He chose this one for who she was. Another tick on the soft flesh of Shanghai, sucking its blood, feeding on the bloated carcass of the city.
But not for much longer.
She was easy to follow when she left the Black Cat; tracking her through the crowds thronging the Shanghai jungle was no problem.
She walked slowly, her shoes obviously biting into her heels. Well, why wouldn’t they, after a night dancing with men for money? How could she shuffle monotonously around the wooden dance floor, allowing them to slaver over and paw her, stealing a fleeting squeeze of her buttocks whenever they felt like it?
The woman had chosen her life and now he would give her a different choice. One that would set her free for ever.
She raised her arm to stop one of the taxis prowling for customers. It drove straight past her, its ‘for hire’ sign shining brightly through the smoke-raddled air of Shanghai.
Nobody was going to pick her up tonight.
Everyone knew she was his.
Yama had selected her and he did not make mistakes.
The god had first spoken to him in those lost nights when he lay in the shell hole between the trenches. Alone, surrounded by his friends and his enemies. Dead, all of them.
He had not listened at first, not understanding the voice and what it was saying. Yama had whispered to him that he was the god’s angel of death, his fierce right arm in the eternal fight against those who had trespassed against the laws of heaven.
None were to be forgiven. All were to be punished.
Only years afterwards, when he finally arrived in Shanghai, did he comprehend the meaning of the words.
Only then had Yama revealed himself in all his glory and power and wisdom.
Only then did he realise the meaning of his life was death.
His prey limped on, turning off the main road into the warren of miserable alleys lying behind the facade of elegance and sophistication.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, becoming skittish in the last few minutes, aware perhaps she was being hunted.
It didn’t matter. He already knew where she lived. Yama had revealed it to him, just as he foretold everything that was going to happen.
Nothing mattered.
He twisted the lead ring he always wore on his little finger. Yama had told him what to do and the god was always right.
There was a plan. All he had to do was execute it, and her, and the others.
They were all going to be taken into the cold embrace of the god. The voice had told him exactly what to do. This human tick was simply the first step.
The girl ahead hurried her steps, glancing backwards over her shoulder.
Don’t worry, my lovely, your time has come. Don’t hurry to your death.
Her death, the first.
His death, the last.
Danilov was going to die. Yama had planned it all in godlike detail. It was just a question of the right execution.
The thought sent an avalanche of pleasure down his spine. He had waited so long for this moment.
Too long.
He was going to be the judge who sent Danilov to his death.
He was the Judge of Souls.