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‘Demands?’ Aradeus asked.

‘Demands, plural. Two, in fact.’

Alice sneered, ‘Even with the freedom of your own realm at stake, you’re still just a filthy mercenary at heart, aren’t you? Looking to take advantage of every situation for your own gain.’

‘Stop flirting with me, girl,’ Corrigan warned. ‘You’re making me hard.’

‘Well, no one wants that,’ I said. ‘So, what exactly are your demands?’ I had a bad feeling about this.

‘First,’ Corrigan said, and promptly dropped his trousers, ‘everyone here has to admit that I have a truly magnificent cock. Aradeus, stop turning away! Come on, Galass, get a good look. I want you all to take as much time as you need, then tell me this is truly the finest instrument ever forged by gods nobler than the Aurorals and perverts fouler than the Infernals for bringing those most deserving to unimaginable ecstasy.’

Corrigan Blight, unhinged thunderer, unrelenting degenerate, and the best friend one could ever hope for in a world like this one, stood there with his dubious manhood on display until each and every one of us had vowed that it was surely the finest in the land.

‘Dare I ask about your second demand?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You said you had two demands.’

‘I did?’ He looked down at his crotch. ‘Was I wanting one of you to—? Oh, no, I remember now! We have to hire another wonderist for our coven.’

Galass looked confused. ‘Why?’

‘Because if I’m going to get myself killed fighting some insane war against the Celestinesandthe Devilishandall their minions, then I damn well want the world to know who we are.’ Corrigan grinned from ear to ear as he declared, ‘And the “Malevolent Six” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.’

Chapter 56

Real Heroes Don’t Name Their Swords

Picture a hero.

Go ahead, close your eyes if you need to.

There he is, see? Broad shoulders, chiselled jaw, the high cheekbones and bright blue eyes that give artists spontaneous wet dreams. Bet he’s holding a gleaming sword up high. Probably calls it ‘Dauntless Light’ or ‘Blade of Valour’– because shiny pointy weapons work better when you give them cool names, obviously. The cloak’s a must, too, right? Long, flowing mantle that’s just perfect for tripping over when you’re attacking, and just the right length for your enemy to grab hold of and choke you to death when you’re trying to run away.

Does he wield magic, this paragon of virtue? Sure, but none of those shitty Infernal spells that everyone knows are bad for the soul. No, our boy hurls balls of brilliant blue flame– because setting fire to your enemies is so much more noble than messing with their heads. Most of all, though, this is the guy you call when your quest is righteous in every possible way. Don’t waste his time if you’re not so nice yourself– if you’re a, you know, regular human being with all the nasty foibles that actually make us human in the first place. Damsels in distress need apply only if they’re virgins.

Behold your valiant hero: a self-important, sermonising poser who’d never stoop to getting down in the mud where the real fight’s about to start because he might have to get his hands dirty and that would make him ‘no better than the bad guys’.

Well, guess what? There’s a whole lot of mud down here, and we’re all neck-deep in it. Maybe it’s time somebody came along who’s ready to beworsethan the bad guys.

So, go ahead, open your eyes.

I’ll show you a fucking hero.