by J. L. Murray
I swallowed, a lump in my throat. I didn't dare look at him. At my father. “Why are you telling me this, Sasha?” I said. I focused on my feet. Putting one in front of the other.
“Because you deserve to know. I lose one daughter today. I barely knew her. I didn't know her at all, I think. But you are still here. They whisper in Erebos about you.”
“What do they say?” I said, my voice low and hoarse. I focused on continuing to walk in unison with the demons around us.
“They say you would not die easy,” he said. “They say maybe is impossible to kill you. They say you can do anything. They say that someday you will be Death.”
My stomach turned at his words. I felt cold and somehow more afraid than I had been since Sam brought me back. I felt like ice water had replaced my organs. The heat in my chest died down and was replaced with a feeling of numbness. “That's ridicuous,” I said.
“Is it?” said Sasha. “I do not know. Point is, maybe you will not die on this day. Even if the Scourges come. Maybe they will not take you. But they will take me.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Is okay. I have done everything that needed to be done. We will try to find this god. Maybe it will work. Maybe the Scourges will come anyway. Maybe I will die fighting on these streets. But I feel it. I may be gone by the end of the day. I do not want to go without telling you.”
“Tell me what?” I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to.
“I love you, Nikita.” Sasha glanced at me, but I still couldn't look at him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him nod, as if satisfied. He turned and started to move towards his place near the front of the line.
“Sasha, wait,” I said. He turned, walking backward. “I love you, too,” I said. After a moment I looked away awkwardly. It felt strange to say. Sasha laughed.
“Is a good life, yeah?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it is sometimes.”
Sixteen
Corpses lined the street. A corps of demons had been assigned to clear our path so we didn't have to step over them. Within the first half mile, we had almost caught up with the cleanup crew who, despite their numbers, were having a hard time staying ahead of us. I could see them in the distance, dragging the bodies to the side of the road. I looked over and saw a young boy in jeans and a blue tee shirt, lying dead where the demons dragged him. A human boy, probably an Abby. Angels in their simple pale clothes, demons, and human after human. All dead. I hadn't seen any angels in uniforms or the chain mail that Sam's brothers seemed to favor. Such things might have protected them. All the angels I had seen were in regular clothes. Commoners, probably. Many of them very young.
I could hear the sound of fighting, but it was oddly muted. My world, my city, had become the place of nightmares. The spirits of the dead Abbies wandered, bumping into each other as they passed. Children, women, men. Unable to cross over and forced to fight in a war they couldn't possibly understand. I knew as much as anyone what was going on, and I couldn't even understand it.
“Sam,” I said.
“Don't look,” he said. “Just concentrate on the task at hand.”
But I had to look. It was shocking. Like those old black and white photos of cities that had been invaded in World War II. Only this wasn't some grainy photograph. This was reality. Blood and guts and brains streaked across the road where the bodies were dragged. Silver, red, black. Everyone was dead.
If Sasha had brought his army sooner, could we have stopped it? If Sam had agreed to use his power, and the hell with the consequences? If I had gone out and killed every angel in sight? Every demon, for that matter. But that was no good either. Common angels with no armor, half of them scared to death. And killing demons for no reason was about as fulfilling as killing Eli. It wasn't their fault that they relished battle. It was no use going over the what-ifs. We just had to stop Michael. He was the monster. The Scourges were nothing compared to what he had done. He had started the war and changed people, angels, and demons into killers. You never forgot killing. Even if they deserved it. You never got over it. Not ever. It changed you. It made you colder, harder. Michael convinced people that they were fighting for good. For God. For all that was holy. He didn't care if they died or were scarred for the rest of their lives. He didn't care. Just as he hadn't cared about Natalie. He had as much as created her. Then when he was done with her, he killed her. I wanted to even the score for that. I wanted to make him hurt and bleed and scream.
The hatred surprised me. The heat in my chest bubbled up and I felt sick. I had wanted to kill before, but I had never felt like I wanted to torture, maim, and cause every kind of pain that I could. But when I thought about Michael that was all I could think about.
“Niki?” said Sam.
“I'm okay,” I said. I inhaled deeply and focused on containing myself. I swallowed down the bile and kept walking. “If we find the Creator,” I said, “what will happen? Say we can somehow bring the Creator back. Will he punish Michael? Will he hurt the bastard?”
“I don't know exactly,” said Sam, “but I have heard stories.”
“And?” I said.
“I think that the Creator, if he finds that Michael has done wrong, will wipe him from existence.”
“What does that mean?”
“He will unmake him. Unravel him. Until there is nothing left. It is what happens when Arches break the Sacred Laws.”
“It didn't happen to you,” I said.
“Bringing people back is against our own agreements. There are consequences, but they are among ourselves. Michael could have chosen to overlook this if it had suited his purposes. But the Sacred Laws are abuse of the Creator's powers. If Lucifer unjustly unleashes the Scourges while the Creator is still alive, he will become undone. Only the Creator is meant to judge. Michael has used his authority to try to take the place of the Creator. Surely, when the Creator returns, Michael will become unmade. I would be unmade if I used His power to stop time. That is not my power to use. Not for any reason other than the ushering of souls.”
“Haven't you used it before?” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “For my duties. Back when every soul needed help crossing over. Otherwise it would have been impossible to help everyone cross. But that is all I am permitted to use it for. Think of it like this: this power is not mine. I am borrowing it from the Creator. And if I use it for something, anything other than what it was intended for, even the Creator would not even be able to stop my unmaking. It is simply the way of things.”
I looked at him dubiously. “He wouldn't allow you to stop existing,” I said. “Not for saving Him, right?”
“He would have no say in it,” said Sam. “The Sacred Laws just exist. There is no arguing with them. Not even the Creator can change them.”
“Will the Creator bring back all the people that have died because of Michael?”
Sam hesitated. “No.”
“Then what's the damn point?” I said. “We should be figuring out a way to get into Briah. To stop Michael. To kill him.”
“Would you want the Creator to bring them back?” said Sam. “Imagine hundreds of humans running around going through the same thing you're going through.” I didn't answer. “It's not right, Niki. I know that. But if we restore Him, the Creator can let them cross over again. They can find peace. Isn't that enough?”
“It'll have to be, won't it?” I said.
“Wouldn't you do anything for a little peace?” Sam said. “To just be able to go to sleep. To finally rest. To really rest.”
“Well, I can't,” I snapped. “I'm stuck here, aren't I? Did you hear what the demons are saying about me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Is it true? Am I some kind of freaky immortal now?”
“I'm sorry, Niki. I just don't know. It shouldn't have happened that way. No one has ever reacted that way.”
“It's been done before?” I said. “I thought you said you'd never done it.�
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“Not by me,” he said.
I remembered something that Sam had said to Lucifer.
“Lucifer?” I said.
“Yes,” said Sam. “It did not end well.”
“She died,” I said.
“She was killed,” said Sam.
“Who killed her?” I said. “Lucifer?”
“No,” said Sam. “Petty Hellion politics. It was tragic. Even by Erebian standards. That poor girl died for no reason.”
I looked around at the dead piled onto the side of the road like sandbags. These people had died for no reason as well. Petty politics, as Sam had said. “You might say Erebos is Hell, Sam, but you're wrong. This is Hell right now. Right here on Earth.”
Sam didn't respond for a long time. When he did his voice sounded weak, strangled. “Yes,” he said. “It most certainly is.”
We marched. Most of the demons didn't wear shoes, but our footsteps echoed in the empty streets all the same. When we came to chasms in the street, we switched to single file. The first in line would break ranks to help clear the streets of the dead, and then fall back into step at the back. I tried not to look at the decimated buildings, tried not to think about all the people crushed in their sleep. Or worse. Sofi had gotten out, but maybe I should have tried to save more. I could have packed that building full of people. It wouldn't have taken long. Bobby could have moved them all. Why didn't I think of that before?
A rag-tag group of demons ran out from a side street and stopped short when they saw the army in formation. Sasha stepped out of the lines.
“Move along,” he said. “We have no wish to fight you. But we will if necessary.” The newcomers backed away and ran down the street. The fighting seemed closer now.
Several blocks from where I had seen the Creator, Sasha held up a hand and the army stopped. I couldn't hear the orders he was giving, but smaller bands of demons began fanning off left and right. I saw a group of five start searching buildings that hadn't fallen down yet. The demons that had been moving the bodies were no longer ahead of us. Sam and I were left with Sasha and about fifty demons.
“They know what to look for?” I said to Sasha.
“We have been over this, Nikita,” said Sasha, sounding exasperated. “Confused black man in a sweater vest. Singing that seems to come from nowhere. Yes?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. He was right. I did need to let go of control. But how could I when the stakes were so high?
“Now,” he said, “we go to where you see him last. Then we track him, if we can.”
“You have a tracker?” I said.
“Mastema,” Sasha called. The big demon in the uniform that I'd seen in Erebos stepped forward. “Niki, this is Mastema. He is an excellent tracker.”
“If He can be tracked,” said Mastema, “I will find him. We all want the balance back. Even in Erebos.”
We walked, the area quieter than the last time I had been here. I wished Bobby was with me. I'd never tell him to his face, but I missed the hell out of the guy. He was also a damn good Caster. I needed someone to have my back. After Abaddon I was having a hard time trusting demons. Sasha was trying, but he was also grieving. I could see the empty heat behind his eyes, threatening to come out. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but I knew grief. I could spot it in a crowd. And he was full to the brim.
Every other step was over a body. I felt my ribs grow a little tighter and my chest grow a little hotter and more dangerous with every step. I pushed the sensation down.
Two blocks from where Gage fell, I started to hear a noise above the sound of stomping feet. Like an angry crowd. We rounded the corner, the voices growing louder. A group of people, Abbies, were arguing. There were so many of them. It looked like a neighborhood forum. A woman stood atop a pile of rubble and waved her hands trying to silence the crowd. I put a hand on Sasha's arm and he stopped the remaining demons with a hand. We joined the crowd. I could feel Sam close to me. I didn't look around for him, but I knew he was there.
“Let's just try to keep religion out of this for the time being,” the woman at the front was calling to the crowd. “We all heard the voices, so don't be afraid to speak up. None of us really knows what's going on here, so let's just try to work through this, all right?”
“It was the voice of God,” said a man close to me. He was balding, but fairly young. He had a clean-cut look about him, though he had the beginning of a beard on his face. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. If He tells us to kill for him, then we should do it. No question.”
“There were two voices, though,” said a middle-aged woman with short, spiky hair. “One said kill the demons and the other said kill the angels. And then something about Slobodian.”
“Obviously the second voice was the voice of the adversary,” said the first man. “Slobodian is a code for the Devil.”
Sasha sniggered, but put a hand over his mouth and coughed to hide it.
“Do you see Him here?” said Sam into my ear. “In the crowd?”
I looked out. “I don't know,” I said.
“It was the voice of a child,” said an older man. “How do you explain that?”
“If the Lord can work in mysterious ways,” said the first man, “then Satan can work in devious ways.”
An outcry of voices roared up. The man closest to me seemed to sense something and turned quickly to look at me. His face turned to surprise when he saw my eyes and he backed away. He slunk around the crowd to stand on the other side. A boy about seventeen did the same, then an older woman with oval eyeglasses. One by one, the crowd quieted, faces turned toward me and staring. Soon there was no sound at all.
I walked to the front of the crowd, the faces of the people following me the entire way. I climbed easily up the pile of rubble and smiled at the woman leading this impromptu meeting. She backed away fearfully. I looked at the faces. The Creator wasn't here. I shook my head at Sam. But these people. I could save them. I knew I could. I could get them to stop.
“Stop fighting,” I said. “That is all you have to do. Stop fighting. Killing is not making you better people. It's not helping. The only fighting you should be doing is when you're protecting yourselves or the people you love. Why are you out here? Why aren't you making sure your families, your friends are safe? Ignore the voices in your heads. Just stop fighting.”
There was a heavy silence. Finally a blonde woman in her twenties stepped forward. “Who the hell are you?” she said. “Are you one of us?”
There was a clattering and Sasha was standing beside me. “I am Sasha Slobodian,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “This is Nikita Slobodian. She has been fighting for you even before you woke up. She is the only thing between you and the end of the world. You should not be afraid of her, you should be thankful to her. ”
But a new whisper was rising up. Slobodian? Did he say Slobodian?
“Listen to me,” said Sasha. “In this war today, I have lost a daughter. We have all lost neighbors, friends, people that we love. That is all we know. If you think you know anything else about this war, you are wrong. It is war. Both sides hate, and lie, and kill. Nothing you think you know about either side is true. All you can really know is that your friends and families are dying. There is nothing you can do except to stop fighting. Stop killing. Stop hating.” Sasha looked at the man that had suggested the second voice had been Satan. “Every single one of us has the ability to do good, and to do evil. I have done bad things,” he said. “But I am not the Devil. Not completely. There is no Devil, you understand? Not here. Only us. Humans. Angels. Demons.” The crowd whispered among themselves. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were no longer looking at Sasha with suspicion.
Sam was standing beside me. “He should have gone into politics,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I'd vote for him.”
“What were the voices?” said the middle-aged woman with spiky hair that had spoken earlier.
“You are Abbies, yeah?” said
Sasha. Several heads nodded. “You know there is magic in the world. There are powers that you do not understand. There is a man, an angel, that has power. He is using it to take over and he wants you to kill for him. He is outnumbered, he needs you to fight and die for him for his own selfish gain. He is not a good man. He was the first voice.”
“What does he want?” said an older man.
“He wants to take the place of God,” said Sasha.
Several people shouted in derision. “Not this religious nonsense again,” said the woman with spiky hair. “We may as well go back to the Dark Ages.”
“Where do you think you get your abilities?” said Sasha.
“There must be a scientific explanation,” she said.
“Like there is explanation for what you are?” said Sasha. “I am Summoner. I can control powerful demons. You see over there?” He pointed toward the fifty demons waiting patiently for him. “Is no explanation for that. Niki can see spirits. Among other things. Is no explanation. What can you do?”
The woman shrugged, her cheeks reddening. “I can turn things to ice,” she said.
“Is there an explanation for it?” said Sasha.
“There must be,” she said. “We just haven't found it yet.”
“Is not science. There is no balance. And the reason there is no balance is that the Creator is missing.”
“The Creator?” said the religious man. “You mean God?”
“Yes,” said Sasha. “And we are going to find him.”
