“There are nine spheres,” I said to Retch as we passed through the false storefront. He and Maurice accompanied me along with Lauder, who conferred with three of his best thugs. Saint Jerome and his goons were ahead of us in the airlock system, at least another room away. “We live in the ninth sphere, and the void beyond is the first.”

He scrunched his nose. “This isn’t a sphere.”

Maurice said, “Dante’s Paradiso has a sphere called The Fixed Stars, so that’s not exactly accurate, either.”

I checked the pistol I had picked up from one of Saint Jerome’s men. It seemed to be in working order. “Understanding of space wasn’t perfect in the fourteenth century.”

“Is that when Nicodemia was built?” asked Retch.

“No.” Maurice and I both snapped.

The first gateway opened, revealing a room filled with the false stars of a Nicodemia night. “This is the fixed stars now, actually,” I said. “It’s the eighth sphere, and this is where faith, hope, and love are supposed to live.”

As one, we stepped in.

“Which one of you is faith and which is love?” Retch asked.

“Demarco!”

I turned to see Charlotte Beck approaching the storefront. She ran across the street, waving a hand at me as the airlock door descended.

It slammed shut seconds before she arrived.

Shit.

I hit the intercom, surprised when the touchscreen worked for me. We were in a liminal space already. “Beck,” I said.

“You can’t be here,” she said. A hint of desperation found its way into her voice. “It’s not safe.”

“Is it safer than being hunted out there?” I tried to keep the hurt from my voice, but judging by the look Retch gave me, I’d failed miserably.

“Things are going to get ugly, and you don’t want to be around for it.”

Frank made a point of rechecking his pistol.

“Is that why you left without saying goodbye?” I asked. Somehow it was easier to talk through the intercom than face-to-face.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Beck’s silence was a noose around my neck.

“This has been great,” said Saint Jerome through the intercom. “But can we please keep this channel clear?”

The next gate opened, and Retch, Maurice and I moved forward along with Lauder’s gang.

“Saturn?” Retch asked.

Maurice grinned. “How could you tell?”

“It has the same picture of the ringed planet that’s on one of the strip clubs downspiral.”

“You go to strip clubs?”

“I’m a pickpocket,” Retch said. “I go a lot of places.”

“Fair enough.”

I pushed the intercom. “We could have worked something out, Beck.”

“But not anymore?” Beck asked. “It’s too late?”

Now it was my turn to pause. I wanted to say it was never too late, but something deep in my gut thought otherwise. “I don’t know,” I said.

The airlock cycled, and we stepped into the next room.

“Jupiter,” Maurice said as the room filled with an orange gas. The moving images of Jupiter’s red storm swirled along the wall as red gas whirled around us.

“It’s a decontaminant gas. Nothing to worry about,” I reassured Lauder and his men. “As long as you aren’t too dependent on having living cells or anything like that.”

When one of them opened his mouth to respond, Lauder waved him back. “Cut the crap and get us inside, Demarco.”

I shushed him. “No talking. If you breathe too much of this stuff in, you’re a goner for sure.”

The gas cleared, and the next lock opened to a view of red Mars. Its dusty waste stretched forever once the airlock doors were closed. Domed buildings dotted its surface.

“This is the heaven for warriors of the faith,” Maurice mumbled. “According to Dante.”

Retch scowled. “Why would warriors of the faith end up in heaven? Aren’t they murderers just like anyone else?”

“They get a special pass,” I said. “The church sells discounts to anyone who kills in their name.”

“That’s messed up.”

The intercom came alive. Saint Jerome said in his gruff voice, “Lauder.”

Lauder had a supremely annoyed look on his face. “Jerome.”

“How about you take out that assassin behind you and I’ll cut you into a big chunk of the business.”

“I’ve heard this story from you before. Nobody who’s worked for you very long can trust a word you say.”

“No, but they trust the dimes I send their way. It’s a good system, Lauder. It’s also your best chance to get out of this alive.”

“Alive? You think trying to kill that woman is my best chance to leave alive? I’d have a better chance stepping into the void for a bit of a drift with nothing but my skivvies and a pair of goggles.”

“You paint quite a picture, Lauder,” said the Saint. “Quite a picture indeed.”

The airlock cycled. The next room we stepped into was the bright one, with walls that glowed searing yellow. As soon as the doors sealed behind us, the glow intensified, brightening to sear off whatever microbes might have been left after the orange gas of Jupiter.

“The sun,” Retch said. “I know this one. Earth people rotate around a big old ball of fire, just like us.”

Maurice said, “This is where the wise go after death.”

“How do you know so much about Dante’s Paradiso?” I asked.

“I wrote a paper about it in college.”

“Must have been a hell of a paper.”

“I have a good memory. It’s part of what makes me a good safe cracker.”

The airlock cycled, and we stepped into a green lit room. The floor hummed with power and a scan passed over each of us in turn.

“Venus,” Maurice whispered to Retch. “Is for lovers.”

The kid smiled.

“Demarco,” Beck said, with an air of long suffering. “You don’t have to turn back, but just wait for me. Don’t step through when the next airlock cycles. We can talk.”

“We could talk now.”

“Not with everyone listening. Look, I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right, but I was wrong.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sorry about what?”

“About leaving. About cutting you out when I needed your help. I couldn’t let you get close because—”

“Because you’re leaving.”

“It’s what I do. Violet hired me to collect her paintings. Part of the payment is that I never have to go anywhere near Earth again, and I can travel the colonies with her. She needs me, and I belong in the stars.”

“Forget that anyone else might need you. Nobody would ever want to settle down in a slum like Nicodemia.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you mean.” My mouth had the consistency of damp cotton. “You’re leaving because you can’t imagine being happy here. That’s all I needed to know, and when this is done you’re welcome to be on your way.”

Lauder stepped up to the intercom. “Jerome, how about this? Have your men lay down their guns and I’ll let you have a healthy chunk of my new empire.”

I took a step back.

“You gotta be kidding,” Saint Jerome said over the intercom. “By the time you step out of that airlock it’ll all be over.”

Lauder looked at me, then at Maurice and Retch. I didn’t like the cold, calculating malice in his eyes. “Sam,” he said. “It’s time to earn that payment.”

Gunshots. The heavy airlock door muffled the noise, but it was unmistakable. I lunged at Lauder, but drew up short as his thugs—ready for me—leveled their weapons. One of them pointed a pistol at Maurice and Retch.

The airlock cycled. As one, we moved forward into Mercury. The searing heat of the room cooked us right down to the bone. A body lay on the floor, crumpled against the wall in a mess of black clothes.

I walked to it, careful not to move quickly so as to avoid spooking Lauder’s men. With my toe, I nudged the corpse, and it rolled onto its back.

It wasn’t Jerome. Nor was it Sam. One of Sam’s gang lay with a still-smoking pulse wound in his chest. The only guy I knew who owned one of those was the Saint himself.

“Seems your plan didn’t go off so well,” I said to Lauder. “Was that it?”

“Care to join him?” Lauder said.

“Sam doesn’t work for you, Lauder,” I said.

“Sure, he does. He’s been on my payroll since he was a kid. I’ve helped him work up through Saint Jerome’s ranks all his life, feeding him ideas of triumph over the guy who kept him and his friends in squalor. I taught him that the only way to get ahead was to fight Saint Jerome’s organization from the inside. Now, it’s finally time to turn things around in this damn city.” He turned to Retch. “Kids like Sam are going to have a better chance to move ahead in this world.”

“Under your organization?”

“That’s right. Because I’m not a greedy bastard like the Saint.”

Retch said, “You’re a different kind of greedy bastard?”

Lauder let his cold gaze linger on the boy. “I know you’ve had it rough, but things are going to get better. Sam is on our side. Even if he didn’t outright kill the Saint, he’s got him on the run. We’ll chase him down together, grab the painting, and leave.”

“What about Violet Ruiz and her security detail?” I asked.

“She’ll stay out of the way. She doesn’t need the painting like we do, and she doesn’t rightfully own it. Why shouldn’t we take it?”

I stepped backward, pressing against the wall as hidden from the door as I could manage, gesturing to Maurice and Retch to do the same. “Because Sam’s only goal is the big score. He’s a damn fool trying to buy his way out, but you can’t buy your way out of this kind of debt. This hole only digs deeper. You’re going to need to watch your back. You’re building your castle on sand, Lauder. You think that betrayal and disloyalty are foundations to construct an empire, but they’re not. That’s one thing Saint Jerome had right. He built his criminal enterprise atop one of the greatest criminal enterprises ever in the history of man: The Catholic Church.”

“Fuck the Catholic Church,” said Lauder. “It can burn, as far as I care.”

“Fair enough, but there’s some good that comes from it, too. It’s a cultural touchpoint. Sure there are other religions in the area, but everyone here knows the church. Everyone has experiences with it, whether good or bad, and there’s one thing I know, and Trinity can back me up on this: the one thing that draws a people together is a central organization about which to complain. That’s the real service the Catholic Church provides to Nicodemia. Body, soul, community. The church provides for all three, and that’s not too terribly bad. No matter what you do, you’re never going to beat that.”

“People complain about Saint Jerome and his organized crime.”

“They do, but Jerome’s gang is nothing compared to a good, fully functioning, Catholic Church.”

Lauder studied me, as if discovering an unknown alien specimen for the first time. “I could use you, Demarco. Are you sure you won’t join?”

“It’s an interesting proposal,” I said. “Do I want to be a part of a corrupt organization? I’ve considered my options, and I don’t know that it seems all that bad. Luxury and ease with the occasional terrifying takeover attempt? That might let me live longer and happier than my current gig. I mean, there would be food every single day.”

“That sounds nice,” said Retch.

“But there’s something I need to know before I join.”

“What’s that?” asked Lauder.

I swallowed the dry cotton in my throat. “What I need to know is, are you the kind of guy who knows when a person is just stalling for time?”

“What?”

Right then, the final airlock door opened, and bullets started to fly.