Free For A Few Souls More (Heaven's Gate Book 3) by Guy Adams

buildings felt as if they were choking him. He had sunk low in his saddle, flinching from things that weren’t there, sick to his stomach by the smells of cooking, sweat and death.
    “You look just about done in,” said a voice to his left. “Not used to the city life?”
    It was a young girl, though he knew better than to take such things on face value. He was about to tell her to begone when common sense kicked in.
    “I’m heading for The Exchange,” he said. “Lead me there and I’ll see you well paid.”
    “How about I see some proof of your worth first?” she said. “I’m not stupid.”
    He took off his hat and scarf, the latter stiff with dust and spittle. He turned his face towards her. “You can take me at my word or not at all.”
    She gave a small laugh. “Maybe I can at that. You the man they’re all talking about? You don’t smell familiar.”
    “Maybe. What are they saying?”
    “That they want you dead, for the most part. Reckon I could be set up just fine if I took you there. Bet there’s a reward.”
    “Then it’s your considerable good fortune that I want to go. Hop on and lead me there.”
    “And I can get whatever they’re paying for you?”
    “As long as they pay upfront, and don’t make no stipulations about my being dead first. I don’t think you want to take on a deal that risky.”
    “I don’t want to kill you, what would be the point these days?” She climbed up onto the rakh. “Now cover your face back up. I don’t want someone else trying to take you off me.”
    “I’m all yours.”
    As they moved through the streets he tried to blank out the ceaseless assault on his senses. The crowds moved like a storm raging around the buildings, flowing in and out of every available space. While some appeared human, other species loomed on either side of them that could not be so easily placed, absurd, grotesque shapes that he didn’t even try to process. Monstrousness was not something you judged from the outside, it lay at the heart of you. How could he not know that with a heart as black as his?
    Shadows passed over them, cast by unseen behemoths in the sky. If the beasts wished to hunt they’d need to do so on open ground, there was no way that creatures of such size could pass between these buildings.
    “We’re here,” said the kid, halting the rakh opposite a tower of grey brick that reared up in front of them. It stood at the heart of a paved, circular space, the stones winding in a screw towards the building, making it look like it was a long, brick shaft that had been forced into the earth, perhaps to stab the world in its corrupted heart.
    “You need to announce yourself before they let you in,” the kid said. “They like their privacy, turn up unwanted and you’ll be a stain on the sidewalk begging for a bucket to pour yourself into.”
    “You do it,” he said, “it’s your bounty.”
    Her confidence wavered slightly as she made her way towards the entrance to the building, a large revolving door of stained glass. “I’ve found him for you!” she shouted. “And wish to claim my reward.”
    For a moment there was silence then the revolving doors began to spin, a low whisper of cushioned metal sliding through its groove.
    “You’ve found who?” asked a voice so barely audible it sounded like its speaker was some distance away, possibly underground.
    The creature that spoke was a corpulent thing, dressed immaculately in a concierge’s uniform complete with gold braid and the woven hair of innocents.
    The rider stepped off his rakh and walked forward, unwrapping the scarf from his face as he did so.
    “You want to keep back, boy?” said the concierge. “You don’t want to get me on the defensive, I can be unsettling when riled.”
    “I’m no boy,” the rider replied, tucking the scarf in his pocket and lifting his face up to be seen. “I’m Henry Jones, and I’m the man who shot God in the head, so forgive me if I’m slow to