The pillar of fire moved nearer, and the air became warmer. The wind dropped, and we heard a noise like the soft crackle of burning pine needles. The concentrated wrath gathered speed, and a high-pitched whine filled the air. The smite was almost upon us when it abruptly shifted direction and with a sound like a tornado moved rapidly toward the most evil, unjust, debased and sinful person within the immediate vicinity. Not “Mad Axman” McGraw or the “Butcher of Naples” and not even the infamous “Toe Cutter of Southend.” No, the pillar of all-consuming fiery vengeance was seeking to punish the transgressions of just one man: Jack Schitt.

I think Jack might have realized what was happening, as the tiltrotor suddenly dipped toward us and became larger, the noise of the rotor increasing as it tried to outrun the long and blazing arm of punishing redemption. The small craft was almost overhead when the smite caught it, and the machine exploded into a bright ball of fire that evaporated into nothing, leaving only softly cascading specks of glowing embers that fell about us like snow. Almost immediately the pillar of fire vanished like smoke, and the clouds high above closed with a distant rumble, and we heard the applause from the gathered spectators in the far distance. A moment or two later, the sun came out, and I blinked and stared at the righteous man.

“Wow,” I said.

“I never get bored of those,” he said with a smile. “Like a dozen bonfire-night displays all squeezed into one. Well done, Thursday.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He placed a hand on my arm and smiled. “Don’t undersell yourself. I’m moderately righteous, but I can’t divert a twentyfelon smiting, even with someone as bad as Jack nearby. No, the reason it worked was your selfless adherence to what was right and just and true. You were willing to sacrifice yourself and your brother rather than kill an innocent man. With you and me pushing the smite away and Jack pulling, it was a cinch. Teamwork.”

He nodded toward where the murderers were incarcerated. “They won’t thank you, though. Welcome to being righteous.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

He smiled again.

“Let’s just say I’m someone who wouldn’t want to see any harm come to you or your brother. The GSD has a large and committed flock, and we sometimes make . . . plans in the background.”

“You’re not going to tell me who or what you are, are you?”

“No.”

“But I did come to harm,” I said with a falling heart. “I was killed by Jack’s assassin at home. I’ve got about sixteen hours left to live.”