"We going Texas Chainsaw on the other blimp, too?" asked Lulu. She pointed off to starboard.

"Spyder…?" said Shrike.

"Another ship's coming out of the clouds," he said. "A burning heart wrapped in thorns. It looks like a Christian sacred heart."

"It's the Seraphic Brotherhood," said Primo, "pledged to the archangel Michael. They're warrior priests."

"Are they approaching us?" asked Shrike.

"No," said Spyder. "They're just hanging parallel a mile or two away."

"There's others out there, too," said Lulu.

"She's right. I can see a half dozen other ships, but they're mostly just dots."

"Get the blade, Spyder," Shrike said.

He ducked back below deck and Lulu followed him.

"Lulu, I want you to stay in here," said Spyder. He stalked around the cabin looking for the silken bundle.

"I'm no cotillion queen, Spyder. I can take care of myself."

"Not when you're coming off junk."

"I wasn't that deep in this time."

On the kitchen counter, he spotted the bundle. "In any case, I'll feel better knowing you're safe." Spyder found a butcher knife on the stove and tossed it to her. "But if anything with more than one head comes through the door, feel free to stick it."

"That's pretty much always my policy."

"That's my girl." Spyder grabbed his leather jacket and headed back onto the deck.

"Hey, Spyder!"

"Yeah, Lulu?"

"Your kamikaze girl outside? She's a sweet slice of honeydew."

"That she is."

When Spyder got back to the bow of the ship, the cable that had been spooling from the scorpion had settled onto the port railing, clamping itself in place with a single golden claw. A rotating disc had flipped open at the top of the claw and there was a grainy image of a young man flickering on a small screen before the wheel. The young man's face was cut through with snowy scan lines. He wore a dark uniform of a severe cut (and marked with numerous medals and campaign ribbons) and a kind of silver ring around his head. To Spyder's relief, he was clearly human. The young man and Primo were speaking rapidly in a language Spyder didn't understand.

"Did I miss anything good?" Spyder asked Shrike.

"We're being offered a bribe," Shrike whispered. "The young pup doing all the talking is Bel, the crown prince of the Erragal clan. One of the powerful houses of the Third Sphere."

"What exactly are we being bribed for?"

"They know where we're going and what we're bringing back. They want the book."

"I'm guessing these aren't the kind of people Madame Cinders would have over to tell her troubles to."

"It's unlikely," said Shrike. "Did you bring the knife?"

"I've got it under my coat."

"Don't do anything until I tell you. For now, we're just playing a diplomacy game. Primo is politely telling the prince thanks, but no thanks."

"What if he gets mad? Last time I looked there was fuck-all but water under us."

"Those other airships should keep him in line. The Erragals are powerful, but they wouldn't want to be seen shooting an unarmed ship from the sky."

"Pardon me," said Primo, "but the young prince is becoming very agitated. I don't think that anyone has every refused an Erragal royal bribe before."

"Tell him we're on Hajj. Religious pilgrims can't accept bribes."

"Yes, ma'am."

Off to the starboard side of the ship, the sky opened like a sunbeam slicing through a cloudbank. A pale, sexless, beatific face appeared between the ship and the Seraphic Brotherhood's floating heart. The face was glowing, like a child's dream of angels, and when it spoke, its voice was like thunder.

"Fuck me," whispered Spyder.

"I know that sound," said Shrike. "God's Army to the rescue."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen."

All Spyder could hear was the echo and rumble of the transparent head hanging in the cold ocean air. The voice and the size of the thing weren't what was most awful about it; it was the utter blissfulness of its expression. Spyder had seen faces like that before-especially the eyes-when being analyzed by court-appointed psychia-trists and being sentenced by compassionate judges who sent him off to juvenile work camps for his own good. They were the understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls. But when Spyder glanced back to the prince, he saw that Primo had dropped out of the conversation completely.

Lulu emerged from the cabin, clutching the butcher knife to her chest. "Are we dead yet?" she asked.

"Not so's you'd notice," said Spyder. He nodded toward Bel's image. The young prince's flickering face was creased with anger. He was clearly no longer addressing Primo, but the Seraphic Brotherhood's ghost representative. The ghostly head nodded and calmly answered the young prince's furious chatter. "The bribers are bitch slapping each other," Spyder said.

"That or arguing over who gets to suck our bones," said Lulu.

"We'll know soon," said Shrike.

"Hey, Spyder?"

"What, Lulu?"

"When you were sixteen, how many times did you picture yourself freezing to death while god and a big scorpion tried to decide who was going to eat you?"

"It's not god, Lulu. It's just some magic trick," said Spyder. "And the answer is once every acid trip."

Lulu hunched her shoulder and went over to lead sit on a bail of rope. She softly began to sing: "Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus going on before…" Spyder laughed at her.

"Quiet!" Shrike yelled. "Primo, before I push these fools overboard, what's happening?"

"I believe, it's over, ma'am."

Spyder looked toward the beatific ghost head. It was fading from the sky. On the bow railing, the prince's spinning disc was folding itself up and retracting into the cable still hooked to the port railing.

"He's right," said Spyder. "Everyone's packing up and backing off."

"We got lucky," said Shrike. "Primo, set the course and come into the cabin with the rest of us."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come on, Lulu," said Spyder.

"I don't think I like that Christian soldiers song anymore," Lulu said. "I loved it when I was little, but I never thought about the words till now. Doesn't seem very Christian singing about how fun war is."

"It's someone's idea of Christian."

"Not mine," said Lulu. "Don't let them play it at my funeral, okay? I want Amazing Grace."

"I don't know that they're going to have Amazing Grace on the jukebox at the strip club."

"What strip club?"

"The one we're going to have your funeral at."

"Cool. Can I come?"

It was warm below decks, but Spyder -shivered. He tucked Apollyon's knife into his belt and pulled his jacket around himself.

Primo was pouring whiskey for everyone from a crystal decanter that looked like it was worth more than everything Spyder had ever owned put together.

"I thought we were on some kind of secret mission," said Lulu. "Not much of a secret if every balloon jockey in NeverNever Land shows up for the run."

"Someone's been ratting us out since day one. We got ambushed on the way to set up this job," Spyder said, downing his whiskey in a gulp.

"Thanks for inviting me along, bro." Lulu, too, swallowed her whiskey and gave an exaggerated shake of her shoulders.

"Primo, did Madame Cinders tell anyone about trying to retrieve her book?" asked Shrike.

"Not that I know of."

"How many people knew she had the book in the first place?"

"A great many. Every truly powerful practitioner of magic in all the Spheres knows about the book of true names."

"Did Bel say why he wanted the book?"

"No, ma'am. In fact, I don't think he knows what it was. He just kept offering more and more gold. I got the distinct impression that he was acting on behalf of someone else. Perhaps behind his family's back."