Beyond Redemption by Michael R. Fletcher Page A

years from now. If I start again I doubt I’ll survive to see its completion. You want to control the god yourselves. Well, my sneaky little Doppels, that will not happen. I will raise this god. I will harness his power. I will bottle the three of you forever.” He pointed at Trepidation. “Out of my chair.”
    â€œWe’ve just been keeping it warm with our imaginary asses,” said Acceptance, sketching a quick bow. Once Konig sat in the now-vacated chair, Acceptance added, “We shall never overthrow you.”
    Konig frowned at the Doppel. “But you shall try.”
    Acceptance shrugged. “Possibly. But you shall always be the real ass.”
    Konig saw Acceptance’s quickly hidden grin and the covert look the three Doppels shared. Had they tricked him, or did they now seek to confuse the matter by making him think they’d tricked him? It didn’t matter.
    Morgen would be his salvation . . . and their doom.

CHAPTER 5
    A sane man is simply a man afraid to unleash his inner demons.
    â€”H ALBER T OD , C OTARDIST P OET
    S tehlen examined the temple from her place in an alley not nearly as dark and narrow as she would have liked. The church, a run-down building with stone walls, looked like it had undergone recent repairs. The Geborene must have fixed this place up when their diseased religion spread here. Whoever ran this filthy little city-state was a fool for allowing them in. Priests were vermin; they spread ideas like rats spread plague, and once they’d infected the hearts and minds of the people, it was hard to get them out.
    While that self-aggrandizing twit, Wichtig, was off trying to kill the local Greatest Pigsticker, Stehlen had work to do. Were there justice in the world, Wichtig would be slaughtered and life could go on without him. Not to say she wouldn’t miss him; the idiot never seemed to notice when she borrowed money. Sure, he might claim he’d noticed, but she knew he lied. Bedeckt was moredangerous to borrow from. And sometimes she felt a little guilty. That’s why she always lent him money if he asked and never asked for it back.
    Stehlen leaned against a rickety wood wall, pretending not to be there. A gaggle of whores, gossiping among themselves, passed by, darting suspicious glances in her direction.
    â€œYou only see me because I don’t care,” she called to the whores, who hastened their pace.
    Gods, this is boring .
    Bedeckt’s plan was shite anyway. As always. How could she casually loiter outside a church in such a small city in the middle of the day?
    After half an hour of trying to look inconspicuous standing alone on a mostly empty street, she gave up and decided to come back later.
    Plans were for people too stupid to think on their feet. Better to deal with things as they happened instead of plotting for hours only to have everything go tits up the moment you tried to put your plan into action. That was Bedeckt’s thing. The grizzled old bastard would spend days planning something Stehlen could finish in minutes.
    Stehlen spat in the dust and tried to run a hand through her hair. Her fingers got caught up in something crusty and she gave up. Snarling, she went in search of a tavern. It would have to be one Bedeckt wasn’t sitting in, as he had told her to watch the church and get a feel for the movements of the priests.
    â€œUseless.”
    FOUR HOURS LATER and under cover of darkness she returned to the Geborene Damonen church. The city died the moment the sun dropped below the horizon. The streets became sullen and empty; or maybe that was her. Only brothels and taverns showedsigns of life. The stained light of lanterns and candles shone mutedly through grubby windows, creating odd patches of street lit dirty gold. Stehlen avoided the light and crept along the walls, alert for piles of refuse. Though her night vision was excellent, more often than not her nose told her first when she was about to step in