by Shad N Freud
When he felt the ground shake, he screamed for Jin to slam the door to Cold Storage shut, the gnome shutting himself within the room with his people. He then turned back to the door, watching as the Fehu rune flashed brightly for a moment and then fell off the wall next to the door.
He sighed in relief as the door disappeared, then opened the remaining door and stepped out into the warm night air of Paris. He wrapped his coat more securely around himself, then pulled out Jin’s stone and walked over to the warehouse, opening the massive door to the abandoned warehouse they’d scouted out the day before. He slapped the rune stone on the wall, then closed the big door, waited five seconds, then opened it. Inside were Zeke and Krang, performing last minute checks to make sure their reentry time would be five seconds after they’d left to avoid a paradox like the one that had nearly wiped out existence a couple months prior.
Krang was still dour but had stopped being a hermit. He still didn’t speak much to Cenere, but it wasn’t out of malice. He just…didn’t know what to say to him. He felt it was better that they spent as little time around one another as possible, which saddened Cenere, but he understood. He decided not to press the issue, knowing that Krang would open up to him in his own time.
Cenere nodded at the pair as they worked on their equipment. He lit a cigarette and looked over his shoulder at the sound of crunching gravel. Camilla’s baby bump was just starting to show, and she was utterly pissed at how gently Cenere was handling her. She slapped the cigarette out of his hand and handed him a pack of gum. He rolled his eyes as he peeled off a piece and chewed on it instead. “Went off without a hitch. We can head back whenever you gents are ready. Wong should be reaching Hong Kong within an hour or two.”
Zeke wiped his hands off with a shop towel and turned the ignition key. “We can leave right now, if you like.”
Cenere nodded. “I’ll go say our goodbyes to L’Orange, then. Be back in a moment.”
Camilla squeezed his shoulder as she stepped into the car. Zeke carefully wheeled the car out with Krang checking the gauges. Zeke then hopped back out of the car and grabbed the stone, closing the door and shutting off the black mansion. He got back into the driver’s seat as Jin and Cenere came back to the car with L’Orange following behind, holding a camera.
“No way I’m not getting this for posterity,” he said as he held up a tin with the Inquisition’s archive stamp on the face. “Do us a favor when you get to the present. Slug the Pope for me, yeah? For making me put you freeloaders up and monopolizing my mansion,” he said with a smile as he shook hands with Cenere.
Cenere laughed and nodded as L’Orange set up his camera, taking a few snaps of the group using the timer on the camera so that they could all be in the picture. He saluted as they hopped in the car, dialing in the date, time, and GPS coordinates they’d be returning to, the last being a minor upgrade during the repairs to the time car. They waved as the lizard started up the temporal flux drive and drove the car into the space-time tear. After a few long seconds, from their perspective, they emerged with a bright flash of light in the present, and almost crashed the car into a familiar pillar in the same place they’d left from.
The Archduke was standing in the control room and stepped out, making his way over to the car. “Congratulationsss are in order, Cardinal Cenere. Asss well asss to the both of you. When ssshall the ccceremony be? I’d like an invitation, if you don’t mind.”
Cenere looked up into the cowl, and smirked. “It’ll be after this damned mess is over, and sure, you can get an invite. Need a name for the invitation, though…Carl?”
The Archduke laughed uproariously as he cast back his hood and opened his robe. The Archduke of Purgatory was, in fact, Carl fucking Beaumont.
He pulled his arms out of the framework they’d used to hide his true self and he removed his voice-changer as he worked off the stilts he’d been wearing. “I’ve waited sixty bloody years for one of you fuckers to figure it out. Been wearing that damned costume the entire time, too.” Carl Beaumont, Archduke of Purgatory smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a pack of BlackJacks. He lit his smoke with a lighter instead of flames.
“You lot did it! Had the big man downstairs worried for a moment when everything went to pot, but you did it. So, who won the pool?”
Cenere looked over at Camilla, then decked Carl in the face. The Archduke laughed as he spit the blood out of his mouth, then grabbed the tiefling up in a hug. He had gotten taller during his conversion, but not as much as the average Archduke; he was now shoulder-to-shoulder with Zeke.
“Well, pup, the Pope should be arriving shortly. Apparently, there’s been a bit of trouble in the States; the SinLand locations have been getting attacked by demonic incursions. Unfortunately for the demons, they decided to attack on Free Gun Day and have been getting utterly murdered. You lot have a few weeks before the Prophecy day, so I’d recommend you rest up a bit. Ah, speak of the devil.”
Impious stormed into the room, holding a note from Lucifer, the envelope that read: “Don’t open until the group leaves.”
“Beaumont! What are you doing…” Impious looked down at the remains of the Archduke costume, then flipped the page to read the rest of the note, his eyes growing as large as saucers. “Wait a minute, you were the Archduke the entire time? Damnit! I lost my bet with Trixie! Oh, that bitch is really going to give it to me now.” Impious looked rather concerned as he held his head in his hands. “Going to make me pick out the strap on she’s going to use, make me take her to the sex shops to figure out which lube…she’ll be insufferable, I tell you!”
Carl looked over at Cenere and leaned in, whispering in his ear.
“Huh. I did say that, didn’t I?” He laughed then walked on up to the Pope and slapped him across the face. “I owed Carl that one when I said I’d slap the Pope for a chance to get one of Jameson’s mansions. And this one is from L’Orange, for saddling him with a bunch of freeloaders.” He laughed as he decked the sputtering Pope right in the teeth. Impious looked up at Graahl and glared at him as he spat out a mouthful of teeth.
“Well? Aren’t you going to do anything?”
Grahl raised a feral eyebrow and then looked up, catching Cenere’s eye. He then smiled and started clapping before laughing gutturally.
“Very funny, Graahl. Now arrest him for assaulting the Pope.” Impious snarled as he muttered a prayer and grit his broken teeth as the healing spell caused excruciating pain while it healed his face.
“Piss off. First of all, he’s a Grand Inquisitor, and unless you plan on retiring him today, I’m not touching him. Besides, a touch of Hellfire and you’ll be right as rain. So, quit your bitching you fat fucker.”
With the exception of Carl and Impious, the entire room spoke as one, the sound deafening as everyone yelled in surprise, “You can talk?”
∞∞∞
Graahl pulled Cenere aside after the others decided to dogpile Zeke when they found out that he’d guessed under all that framework and masking enchantments, it had been Carl all along after all. His scanners had detected that the framework was just that, that Carl had essentially been wearing an exosuit. Then, based on the size of the suit, the length of time the Archduke had been active, and the fact that everything about him had been very hush hush, he was certain within a small margin of error that it had been Carl.
Which was why he now had a shiny pile of treasure. He ameliorated their anger by offering to take everybody to Sinland after all was said and done.
Graahl patted him on the back. “So, kid, welcome to the club. Just between us, I do owe you for laying me out. Pick the time and place, and I’ll pay you a…what’s that word, for when you come over to someone’s house, and-”
“Visit?” Cenere asked hopefully.
“That’s the one. I’ll pay you a beating.” Graahl laughed as he pulled out a cigar and bit off the end. He then handed one over to Cenere, who accepted it with a smile while looking around to see if Camilla was nearby. He
heard a faint whipping sound coming from Graahl as he lit his cigar and flipped the honey badger the finger, eliciting another guttural laugh. “By the way, we tend to get together once a month to play poker. Think the little woman will let you come?”
Cenere looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t there, then turned back to face the Grand Inquisitor of Wrath and Gluttony. “We’ll see. She may insist on tagging along.”
Graahl shook his head, “Sorry friend, Grand Inquisitors only. The Pope doesn’t even get to attend. And Impious is the first Pope in sixty years that wasn’t an Inquisitor first. Part of the reason I never let him know I can talk. It was a running gag for years until I had to get Carl’s attention before the cat almost got let out of the bag.”
“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” Cenere asked, savoring the rich flavor of the Cuban cigar.
Graahl tapped the side of his nose. “I knew the moment I smelled him. Almost blew it because I was so damned surprised. Had to keep a lid on things for a while, and I had a bet going with the other Grand Inquisitors as to who was under the cowl.”
“We did, too. Zeke ended up winning, damn that eye of his.” Cenere groused, grinning as he watched the others poke fun at the good-natured lizard man.
“By the by, Graahl, you still owe me ten grand from the poker kitty,” Carl said as he walked up to the pair, lighting his cigarette with a lighter. Cenere raised an eyebrow at the Archduke.
“Just out of curiosity, why don’t you use the Baneflame to light your smokes?”
“Makes them taste like shit. That, and the smoke puts me in a right foul mood.”
Cenere staggered backward melodramatically, clutching his chest in false alarm. “You? Carl Beaumont? In a foul mood? The Hell you say!”
“Piss off, you twat,” Carl said with a smirk as he took a long drag on his cigarette. “Had to give up smoking these a while, as it would have given me away in an instant. So, got her knocked up, hey? That wish must have worked after all, since male tieflings are all mules.”
Carl laughed when he got the bird from Cenere as the three smoked and joked.
At least, they did until Camilla tapped her fiancé on the shoulder. “Cenere, when you get done screwing around with the boys, we need to plan our wedding. I’m thinking black and red lace everywhere.”
Cenere’s shoulders slumped as both his friends chuckled at his misfortune and made quiet whipping noises as he walked away.
Not quietly enough, however. There was a thumping sound as Carl was struck in the face by a rubber training round from Camilla’s 25mm grenade launcher, followed by a second that struck Graahl right in the nose. Both had been shot over the shoulder, using a hand mirror to gauge the shot. Cenere turned around to face the pair as they pulled themselves off the floor.
“Oh, and guys? She’s got some very impressive hearing. Food for thought.”
Carl horse laughed as he lit a fresh cigarette while Graahl grumbled about the social norms that forbid hitting a pregnant woman. They looked at each other and grinned, Carl nodding in Camilla’s direction.
“On second thought, she can come to poker night!” Graahl yelled at Cenere’s back. “If she’s got balls enough to shoot me with rubber bullets, she can play at my table any time!”
∞∞∞
Deep within the Abyss, Malak and Kali smiled as they watched the mayhem taking place in the United States. The death toll for the demons had been astronomically high, with a very short list of civilian casualties. But the deaths of all those demons had served a purpose. It had gotten the rank and file good and riled up for the main event, the day the Prophecy would be tested. It wasn’t a matter of if the parts had been assembled, only if they could get to the spot in time.
Malak clinked his champagne flute with Kali’s. “Well bright eyes, if this plan fails, all well and good. After all, a Prophecy is only one way to skin a cat. And I plan on flaying a lot of felines before I’m done. I wonder what Bast is up to. Might need to prune away a few extra pantheons here and there. Ah well.”
Kali blinked, all six eyes closing simultaneously. “You know, it would be great to actually hear some of these plans, once in a while.”
“Shhh, no need to ruin the moment, my sweet. Let’s just focus on the moment at hand. We throw everything we’ve got at them. Balrogs, vespids, anzu, maybe even a few hives of darkspawn. Then unleash as many layers of the Gray on them as we can. Throw in a few grave yards worth of zombies, enough shades to darken all of New York, and maybe, just maybe…they’ll fail to get there in time.
“As Carl is now a fucking Archduke and has a full squad of Pitties at his disposal, it might make things a bit harder. Oh, and that damnable dragon of theirs, Jin? Miserable lizard that he is, I’m sure he’ll be no end of trouble for us. So, we should expect this Prophecy to fail. It’s perfectly alright though. Cthulhu had the entire situation in hand in the forties, and still choked at the eleventh hour.”
Kali rubbed her six hands in glee. “So much death! So much blood! I just can’t wait!”
∞∞∞
Cenere and Camilla strolled into the mansion after they’d seen an event planner to square away the details of the wedding. They were to be wed a month after the Prophecy was concluded in the very Basilica he’d been exiled from. That was planned, of course, to thumb his nose at Cardinal di Flores, as he technically had seniority over the majority of the sitting Cardinals, having been given the title some sixty-seven years prior. This would come back to bite him in the ass in year to come, but for now it was a great way to piss off the people that groused about him getting the position at such a young age.
“Welcome home, Cenere, Camilla. I don’t suppose you’d like to release your, ahem, guests any time soon?”
“Guests? Oh, shit! Yes, by all means, release them, Jeeves. I can’t believe we forgot about them.”
∞∞∞
The skies above Berlin at sunset were a sight to see that evening. A massive dragon with mirror scales set aloft in the red, orange, and purple sky, the sunset reflected off his hide. He was quickly joined by a silver streak leading a huge golden cloud that resolved into hundreds of bodies, the Gold dragons that had been at the temple, attending to their god. Dragons the world over paused in their evening routines, many looking up from the zoos they worked in as attractions, hearing a song not sung in almost seventy years. They joined in on the song, most alighting and leaving short notes about their impromptu sabbatical.
The Allfather had come back to them. Nothing else mattered.
∞∞∞
Back in the Abyss, Malak’s champagne flute was crushed to a fine powder. His black eyes glistened malevolently as he glared at the veritable cloud of dragons on pilgrimage to the holy shrine at Nagasaki. He turned, directing his hateful gaze upon Kali. She shook her head. “Wheels within wheels. This plan may have failed, but you have others. Don’t lose sight of the prize. I do believe now would be a good time for us to discuss these plans of yours. To present a united front.”
Malak took a deep breath, and compartmentalized his anger, locking it away for a better moment. He then smiled at Kali and grabbed a fresh champagne flute. “Correct as always, my sweet. I suppose there’s nothing left but to watch the slaughter.
Kali smiled, then grabbed a passing demon, gesturing at the abattoir the room had been reduced to by Malak in his rage, blood, limbs, and withered husks of demons everywhere.
“Clean this up. We’ll be retiring to our private chambers.” Kali said with a slight tone of need in her voice. “Come along, Malak. I know what will cheer you up.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The television in the room came back from commercial, the news filling the group in on the horrific death toll in the states. Millions of summoned demons had been wiped out by way of the American citizenry, as many Americans held to their second amendment like a religious sacrament, allowing them to pull their weapons on the intrusive demons that had the temerity to attack ‘Murica.
Ce
nere scratched his head as he wondered why the demons were attacking every Sinland in the U.S. After all, the automatic response to attacking a Sinland was to remove the safeties on Chaotic beings and let the folks inside the park go nuts on the demonic horde. In three days of constant attacks, only five people had died within the parks…wait.
Cenere glared at the screen, still showing the fact that five people died in five different parks, and no one questioned the fact that the demons had stopped after only a single civilian casualty at each park? Cenere cursed sulfurously as he ran to the “war room,” as the residents of the mansion had taken to calling it. Carl and Graahl were taking the Pope to the cleaners while smoking cigars and guzzling cheap hooch.
Cenere ground to a halt. “Are you fuckers serious right now? The Sinland locations are about to get hit hard.”
Carl tossed a few high value chips into the pot. “What the bloody Hell are you on about? Two cards.”
The Pope grumbled as he called Carl’s bet, dealing him two cards. Graahl rolled his eyes, checked the bet, and raised three fingers. Cenere’s teeth started to grind as he pressed his hand against the wall and a big screen TV appeared, set to the news with commentators laughing at the idiocy of demons. Carl stared for a moment, then rubbed the bridge of his nose as he caught on to what Cenere was trying to say. “Shit.”
“What?” Impious asked as he stared at the screen. “So, five people died while in a Sinland. Big deal.”
“No, you smarmy git, it is a big deal,” Carl said as he and Graahl both nodded at Cenere. “They stopped attacking the moment they killed someone. It means they figured out the threshold. And, as Sinland locations are at every bloody Satanic stronghold…”
“They’ve been testing the waters to see how many demons they’ll need to overcome the barriers,” Cenere finished as he lit a cigarette. “So that when they figure out which church we decide to use as our base of ops, they can cut us off from reinforcements, and set up ambush points every step of the way to-”
