War in Heaven Read Online Free PDF

that formed veves on his face. Dreadlocks sprouted from his head where they could; the rest of it was either covered by a precariously balanced top hat, or by his military-built and black-market-augmented integral computer.
    Papa Neon wore a long purple leather coat that looked heavy enough to be armoured and was again covered in many colourful symbols. As he stepped out of the coffin he leaned on his glowing neon staff. He looked every part the role of the Voudun priest and gang leader that he played so well.
    He stepped down and we all relaxed somewhat. He nodded at Rannu, who nodded back and courteously stepped away from the bike and the weapon clipped to it.
    ‘Does that ever impress anyone?’ I asked as the smoke was clearing, carried away by the dry wind that blew across the wasteland.
    ‘No, but it is good fun,’ Papa Neon announced in his thick Haitian accent. He looked me up and down. ‘Are you dead?’ he surprised me by asking. Then again hackers tend to see the world differently as a result of their various net-born religious manias.
    ‘I’m as you see, Papa Neon. In no small part thanks to the drugs you supplied.’
    After I was rescued from the Wait I had received medical treatment from the Big Neon Voodoo. This had included a substantial supply of drugs that had enabled me to cope with the symptoms of dying from radiation poisoning. Papa Neon gave this some thought.
    ‘This is good. I think that the Loa have blessed you. I know this because they have told me. They are pleased that Obatala is now among us in the spirit world.’ I think he was talking about God. ‘I danced when he returned.’ I knew he would. ‘But the devil walks around the sun far out in the night,’ he finished. I looked at him blankly.
    ‘I think he means Demiurge,’ Mudge suggested.
    ‘Not my problem,’ I said. Papa Neon regarded me carefully before reaching into the pocket of the threadbare finery that was his waistcoat and producing his UV monocle. He placed it in this eye and looked at me some more.
    I was starting to feel the discomfort I always got when hacker pseudo-religious bullshit was brought up. Particularly when it was applied to me. I realised it was how they understood the world around them. At its heart they just had a different but arguably no less valid way of understanding things. It still always sounded like madness to me.
    ‘Ogun Badagris has had too much fun.’ I glanced at Mudge, who shrugged. ‘Will you not cage his horse?’
    ‘I don’t know what that means,’ I said, ‘but my fighting days are over.’
    He moved in close to me. I tried not to flinch. I could smell rum and stale marijuana smoke. Then something occurred to me.
    ‘Have you been speaking to Pagan?’ I asked.
    ‘The Loa and the dead want to speak to you.’
    ‘Where is he? Where’s …’ I started and then suddenly felt very self-conscious, more about Rannu than Mudge. Though Mudge was reasonably well informed about how pathetic I could be.
    ‘The Mambo walks in the lair of Anansi’s twisted younger brother,’ Papa Neon told me.
    I looked at Mudge again. ‘Anansi’s a spider god, I think.’ It didn’t sound good.
    ‘Look!’ Papa Neon shouted. I turned to look where he was pointing and could just make out a large copter speeding towards us. Its rotors were folded and it was using its jets.
    ‘The spider wants to speak to you,’ Papa Neon began. ‘The dead want to speak to you and the Loa have not done with you.’
    Fuck. I just wanted a drink and a smoke, maybe some peace and quiet.
    ‘Is that a black helicopter?’ Rannu asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. I shaded my eyes with my hands and watched as the copter’s twin rotors unfolded and started to rotate. It was a military cargo model that had indeed been painted black, its windows tinted.
    Mudge started laughing. ‘Fucking spooks, man. One cliché after another.’ He shook his head. ‘They actually think this shit is cool.’
    I turned back to look