“Relax, I’m not going to kill you,” Volce whispered in my ear. The needle he touched to my neck told otherwise. “If I really wanted to fuck you up, I’d have invaded your head and overloaded it with my thoughts, then smashed you into a bloody pulp.”

I was speechless, not because of Volce’s threat, but because of the implication that deuces could invade their partners’ thoughts. It wasn’t a lie—it couldn’t be. However, something nagged at the back of my thoughts. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my grip on my knife. Attacking now was pointless. Volce could end me way faster than I could take a swipe at him. And he knew that, hence why he didn’t even bother telling me to drop my knife.

Once I’d got my breathing under control, I asked, “If you’re so strong, why haven’t you been fighting?”

“Because just like you, I’m keeping secrets. Like, for example, the fact that you’ve been sending messages to that crazy bitch hunter.”

Right. Mind reading. That was the reason I’d been avoiding Volce’s power. Unfortunately, I’d panicked when we were running through the lithium pits and paired with the annoying demon. So now he knew that the poems I was leaving behind were messages to Berlin.

“And why’s that a problem? She saved us. We wouldn’t have got through that situation with Wrongtonk if she hadn’t shown up and chewed through the demons. I told her to be there.”

“Oh, quit twisting my horns! We wouldn’t have been in that sticky spot if you weren’t trying to bait out sniper fire. You knew the chances of there being a sniper in that area were high. You wanted to give Berlin a gun!”

Well, there was no harm in trying to fool him. He must have gleaned a lot off me during those couple of minutes. Who knows? Maybe he found out who my first crush was.

“The things men do when they’re in love,” I said sarcastically.

Volce pressed the needle in a little. I could feel warm blood trickle down my neck. “Enough of the human bullshit. Tell me what you’re planning. Now. Don’t make me tap into that squishy brain of yours.”

Tell me what you’re planning. Don’t make me. He put a needle to my neck to threaten me to speak. His threats betrayed the truth he was trying so poorly to hide. Wasn’t threatening me less efficient than just invading my mind? Why would a demon take the path of greater resistance? That was something humans did, fuelled on by their superstitions and assumptions. Could it be…?

A smile split my face. “Go ahead,” I said. “Give my grey matter a stir.”

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“Yes. Very.”

Volce hesitated. “Let me explain something to you. There are very few deuces on the level of a one name. That’s not because we’re weak, but because the way we gain power, by partnering with inconsiderate shits like you, puts us at risk. We usually get stabbed in the back before we make it to three names. In fact, there’s officially only a single one name deuce.”

“Synaesthesia, I know. She’s famous, partly because she’s a one name, partly because she hasn’t paired with anyone in three centuries.”

“But what’s not famous is the full extent of her power. Nobody knows what it is. Not even me. However, as one of Hell’s strongest deuces, let me assure you of something. When a deuce gets strong, it’s in a manner that is beyond understanding.”

“Alright. Then show me.”

Volce said nothing for a while, though I could hear him grind his teeth. As time went on, I grew more confident in my conclusion: Volce couldn’t just invade my thoughts. No, there were conditions.

But even more interesting than that was the realisation that Volce knew how to bluff. He wasn’t lying—nothing like it. Rather, the deuce was just misdirecting. He offered me information and let me draw my own conclusions, then used my own beliefs to fool me into revealing information. It didn’t upset me, actually. Instead, I found it very fortuitous that I’d found a demon that knew how to bluff, and he was bound to me by an airtight contract.

I raised a finger. “One. You can’t do anything to me if we’re not already paired. That condition is unbreakable.” I raised a second finger. “Two. When you do pair with me, it takes you a few seconds to actually break into my thoughts. In other words, you can’t invade my mind unless we stay paired for long enough.”

Volce still didn’t speak, but I could feel his nails biting into my chin. Then, finally, he pulled the needle away and slapped me across the cheek.

“Fuck you, Algier! Why couldn’t I partner with a stupider human?”

I pushed away from Volce then turned and clapped sarcastically. “Brilliant plan, asshole. Just sublime.”

The red demon was thrusting the needle into the trunk of a tree and tearing away at the bark. “Fuck you. Fuck them. Fuck everyone. Fuck this stupid Culling.” He whipped around to me and his face was pulled into a snarl. “A deal! Don’t be a sock puppet and do it.”

I cocked an eyebrow and let him make the first offer.

“Remember that demon you erased? Well, I happened to take their rabdos while you were running around like a chicken in a firestorm.”

My grip tightened around my knife, but I remained silent. Oh, I was mad, but that slight display of aggression was completely intentional. I did it to put Volce on the defence a little. It seemed to work because the deuce glanced down quickly then rose a little higher to create distance from a potential strike.

“Well, I would have given it to you when the time was appropriate since I have no idea what the fuck it does, but given you’ve been such an asshole to me I figured I’ll make you earn it.”

He waited for a reaction from me, but again I said nothing.

The deuce’s eyes darted around nervously. “Er, well, here’s the deal. I’ll trade you that rabdos for full information about your plans.”

I waited before responding, letting Volce sweat it out, or whatever the demon equivalent of was for perspiration. “Show it to me.”

“What? Why?” he stuttered. I was so fortunate to be dealing with the only demon who showed their emotions like a teenager with a crush.

“Because if it’s shit, then it’s a bad deal.”

“But it’s a rabdos. Literally anything is better than that trash knife of yours.”

“Want to put that to the test?” I said, stepping closer.

Volce waved his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. I’ll show you.”

He took a thin cane out of his inventory and presented it to me. The cane was simple in design: a smooth black staff that tapered into a blunt point with a bulbous brass top. It reminded me of one of those fancy Victorian era canes, only far less gaudy.

Admittedly, I paid too much attention in history class, particularly when it came to matters of weapon and war, so I knew that this style of cane wasn’t just a fashion statement. It was far too utilitarian for that, and the heavier, unwieldy head made no sense when used as a walking implement. What it did, however, was weight the top like the pommel of a sword. Or if turned around, became indistinguishable from a shillelagh. During the sixteenth century in England, and the nineteenth in France, canes became fashion items used by anyone who was anyone. They were a status symbol, a mark of one’s wealth, signified by the quality of the design and materials used. And in the seedier parts of Paris and London, where pointy things were outlawed, they were an excellent substitute for a sword. Judging by the design, it would be reasonable to say that this stick was better suited to hitting things than walking. That was a good sign.

“What does the description say?”

Volce muttered something under his breath, then gripped the rabdos in both hands. The cane was longer than he was tall, comically so given that he was sitting cross-legged at my eye level. The deuce’s eyes flicked around as he read in a confused stutter.

“Still night I drag into the daylight’s break; the vault doors fall against my fury’s—”

The moment the word “vault” had left Volce’s cracked lips, I’d paired with him. I lunged forward and swiped a hand upwards, plucking the cane straight from his stubby hands. Once it was in my hands, I deactivated his power.

“—wake. Oh, you fucking conniving sack of piss and shit!” Volce ripped at his bowl of grey hair and let out a long, agonised howl that echoed over the treetops. If the birds hadn’t already fled this land long ago due to the digressers’ presence, they would have scattered.

I twisted a pinkie in my ear while I stuffed the rabdos in my inventory. “You know they’ll hear us.”

“Good! That’s why I’m screaming. I want everyone to know how much I hate you right now. Gah!”

Well, I let him scream as much as he wanted, regardless of the consequences. I just scored an incredible rabdos and got to watch Volce writhe in agony. Needless to say, I was pretty damn happy. I have to admit, luck is a great thing to have. Where had it been all my life? And I wasn’t just talking about Volce’s luck, because I’d just scored a really good item.

Everwant, Class 6. Arguably one of the most mysterious rabdoses to be used in the Culling. Little is known about it other than what was gleaned from footage taken during the fifty-second Culling. A haures managed to accurately identify the location of fifteen demons’ sigils, no matter how well they were hidden. Before each pinpoint strike, that haures had repeated one specific action: he’d struck his foe with the bulky end of Everwant.

Before a rabdos is identified, their classification defaults to Class U, for Undefined. Before the fifty-second Culling, Everwant’s classification was a big U and it was only designated Class 6 after its ability to identify sigils was revealed. The administrators like to leave these things a mystery, letting the Participants experiment with whatever insane junk they tossed into the arena.

Sometimes the rabdos turns out to be a literal pea shooter. I’m not kidding. There’s an actual pea shooter in the Culling called Baby Peppermint. It’s as terrible as you think. But sometimes, they turn out to be cataclysmic devices that can single-handedly win the Culling for the bastard that wields it. I’m thinking of one in particular.

That bastard has a name, as does their rabdos. Jonathan Hodges, an upper class human whose family were all researchers for a major mining company. He landed himself in the Culling after butchering an enepsi escort, one of the kind that made a lot of money off rich men looking to blow their meagre fortunes on something exotic.

I typically wouldn’t feel any pity over the erasure of a demon, but the things he did to her… let’s just say that there are some things that even I wouldn’t wish upon a demon. There are some humans who deserve to be in the Culling, and Jonathan Hodges was one of them.

Unfortunately, a bastard like that ended up finding Babylon. What happened after that? Let’s just say that the eighty-eighth Culling ended on the sixth Ring. At least, that’s what was agreed upon, given what little footage we have.

Despite being the only survivor, Jonathan didn’t win the Culling. That’s not how it works. There’s only one way to win and that’s to fulfill the conditions outlined by the administrators.

Well, by the time Jonathan started using… he couldn’t even think straight. He just kept yelling, “The Divine blesses the wicked with His light!” Over and over and over. At least, that’s what he was doing in the third Ring. Beyond that? I think he…

Nobody knows what Babylon does, because there’s no footage past the third Ring of the eighty-eighth Culling. The administrators have openly denied that they tampered with the footage. As far as they were aware, everything was going smoothly. They received no complaints, and all footage of side-shows and host commentary is perfectly intact, though a little frantic. Hell, I watched the eighty-eighth Culling live when I was still a teen. I don’t recall any problems. Well, other than feeling an overwhelming sense of terror, like, This is it. This is the end. Our time has come. We all deserve this.

But I can’t remember what it was we deserved, or why.

Then, by some unknown design, the Culling was over. Jonathan Hodges was gone and has never been seen or heard from since. Footage and images were released to the media showing the aftermath: the site of the eighty-eighth Culling is now a barren land whose surface glitters like diamonds. At least, that’s what the edges look like; any human or demon that walks into that waste never returns, any drones that are sent in disappear from all sensors, and all satellite and aerial footage of the inner reaches…

That place had a name, but everyone forgot it. Each time someone names it, the name is forgotten again. Even referring to it as something innocuous like “That Place” will get you a nod of understanding one day, and a stare of confusion the next.

What was I saying? Right, Volce and his gloriously furious face. I smiled smugly right back at him.

“Listen,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m in a good mood right now, so I’ll tell you a little about the plan.”

Volce stopped stabbing his needle into the tree and whirled around to meet my eyes. “Huh?”

“It’s not that complicated. I’m just keeping Berlin informed of our movements. We need a little extra firepower to deal with the others, and Berlin is like railgun that’s short circuiting.”

“Er, isn’t that a problem for us as well?”

“Yes, but a bigger problem for the other demons. And I’ll be honest with you: I don’t trust any of them one bit.”

Volce give me an exaggerated doubtful look.

“Yes, even Enzi,” I sighed.

Volce’s eyebrow cocked up a centimetre higher.

I waved a hand. “Look. The reason I haven’t kept you in the loop is because every time you get caught, you squeal. Yes, I understand what happened with Berlin. You made the right call and got her off our backs. However, you’re too noisy and that means I can’t trust you to keep your mouth sealed.”

“Oh, okay. So if I was quieter you wouldn’t have stolen the Rabdos from me and, Lucifer’s nipples, you might even be nicer to me. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck you, you lying ass bucket.”

I chuckled, then trudged out of the thicket.

“Volce, the reason you’re not a one name,” I said over my shoulder, “is because you’re an idiot. And idiots need smart people watching out for them so that they don’t land themselves in trouble.”

“I hope you shit out a tumour! I’ll name it Markus just for your sake.”

“That’s not how the human body works.”

As I climbed to the top of the hill, I was greeted with a burst of smoke and flames funnelling into the sky. Cursing under my breath, I ran the last few steps over the crest to see a circle of ash lying atop browned and burnt grass, in the same spot where the captive had once been. Markus stood in front of it grinning. Enzi had her face buried in her hands out of pure frustration while Toll glared at the circle of ash with their crest raised to the sky.

“Did you—” I caught myself before I asked a question. Toll’s gaze snapped sideways onto me. I took a breath and started again. “At least tell me you got the information from him.”

“About that,” Markus began. If I had Erasure still, I would have shot him on the spot. “See, our good old bunè was being highly uncooperative so I felt it was necessary to persuade him.”

I stared at him deadpan. Markus’ grin widened.

“With a good removal from existence.”

Enzi face brightened at the sight of me and she came running over. I half expected she’d pop out of her flimsy yellow dress like usual but, surprisingly, she wasn’t all that bouncy today. She stopped before me.

“Oh, I was worried about you,” she cried. “When I saw that both you and Volce were gone, I’d thought he was trying to do something mean to you.”

Volce rolled his eyes. “Well I’m sorry I can’t get ahead by giving head.”

“Everything was fine. We were chasing after a demon that had escaped, but we couldn’t find them,” I said, still fixated on Markus. “More importantly, I need to take a break.” I omitted saying, From all of you.

Enzi folded her arms under her breasts and fixed me with a cold stare. “About that: you stole my rabdos.”

Sighing, I took Speakeasy out of my inventory. “I wasn’t going to leave it lying around, and Volce was rushing me. It made sense to put it in my inventory.”

“And if I hadn’t demanded it back, I’m sure you would have kept it.”

It was tempting, but I had no intention to. Doing so would have upset Enzi, causing me to lose her trust. As frustrating as she could be, Enzi did help me. That was more than I could say of the other three demons.

“You’ll get it back,” I told her, then settled down atop a boulder to continue where I’d left off.

With everything going so smoothly, I wasn’t even concerned about whether I could steal it or not. We were close to the agreed ambush site, and my plans were coming together perfectly. Too perfectly.