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It doesn’t take long to find a bar. And then spot an officer. What I need is an officer drinking by him- or herself. At the far end of a small, tented joint I see one. A captain. Leaning on the bar with a whole company of shot glasses by his elbow. Perfect. I take out a Malediction and circle around so I come up behind him.

I get close with the cigarette out so he’s looking at it and not me.

“Hey, General, got a light?”

He turns and gives me a bleary look. I must look all right because he glares at me like any other Hellion.

“I’ve got an extra for you if you have some flame,” I say.

He pats himself down and stands when he feels a lighter in his pocket. As he gets up, I clip him on the jaw. Not hard enough to knock him out. Just enough to make his knees wobble like he’s even more loaded than he really is. I get my arm around his shoulder and walk him around the back of the tent, between the market stalls where no one can see us. When I’m sure we’re alone, I grab him by his collar and slap him a couple of times until he comes around.

“What happened?” he says.

“I hit you.”

He looks up at me, trying to put a face and a memory together.

“You did. Didn’t you?”

He reaches for his gun and I let him get it. I want him to feel it in his hand. Then I slam the pommel of Candy’s knife into his temple and down he goes again. Now he knows his weapon isn’t going to help. I put his pistol in my pocket and slap him again. When he comes around this time, he remembers me.

“Helheim,” I say.

“What?”

“Helheim. Do you know where it is?”

“I can read a damned map.”

“Take me there.”

He looks at me like he didn’t understand what I said. I haven’t spoken Hellion in a while. Maybe I’ve gotten rusty.

I say, “Do you know where Helheim is?” while dragging the knife across his cheek. The sight of his black blood wakes him up fast.

“Yes. Of course. Only the lowest damned souls and the worst troops go there. Which are you?” he says. I smack him with the pommel again.

“I’m prepared to beat the brains or the attitude out of you. Which do you think will go first?”

He holds up his hands in front of his face.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you where it is.”

“No. You’re going to take me there.”

He looks up at me.

“It’s days from here.”

“Not for me. And now not for you.”

I put the blade under his chin and stand him up. Move him toward a shadow against the side of the tent and pull him in.

We come out by the garage where I hid the bike.

He looks around. Touches his head, wondering if he’s even drunker than he thought.

“How did you do that?”

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