by Ryan Attard
The man had his eyes closed and stood with a stillness that could only be defined as dead.
Greede tapped him on the shoulder. “This is my latest masterpiece,” he said. “Do you recognize the material?”
“Vensir bones,” I said, anger slowly welling up inside me.
“Exactly,” Greede hollered, like a deranged game show host. “I had you all fooled, didn’t I? I wanted you to think that the only reason I had to harvest Vensir bones was to make weapons. But this, this is the weapon. An indestructible golem, a perfect soldier, never tiring, never broken. I call him Omega. Well, technically, Omega Mark IV — took me a while to get the shaping just right. And you know the effort it takes to get all those Vensir bones-”
I yelled and threw my fist against the barrier. The space in front of me cracked like a mirror. Snakes of energy spewed all over us, before reverting back to the spot I struck with my fist and disappearing. The barrier remained as strong as ever.
“Touchy, touchy,” Greede said.
“You’ll never get away with it,” Gil said.
“I think you’ll find I can get away with plenty,” Greede retorted.
“No,” she said. “You’re bluffing, Greede. Do you think you’re the first to ever try something like this? Please. History is riddled with deranged morons who believe they can create their own armies. They all start like you did — one prototype. And do you know what happens one hundred percent of the time? They fail.”
“I read those same history books, Miss Ashendale,” Greede said. “Hell, I even lived through some of the events in them. I’ve been around a while. And you’re right. Which is where the succubus comes in.”
Abi and Ishtar both raised their heads, momentarily looking at each other.
“Did you know succubi can tap into the mental realm?” Greede said. “Not just for the naughty bits, mind you. They can actually, for a split second, mentally tap into a whole new realm. And when I got my hands on my own succubus — well, I just had to find out more.”
“You didn’t,” Akasha said. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, but I would.”
“What is it?” I asked. “What did he do?”
“He tapped into the mental realm,” Akasha said, “in order to create a new consciousness. It’s forbidden. The Grigori forbade it centuries ago.”
“Not to mention impossible,” Gil said. “Even if he could manufacture a consciousness, and even if he did put it inside that thing, this is a sentient being we are talking about. It has free will. It will not blindly follow you. Not unless… not unless…” Her face contorted into pure horror.
“Unless what?” Abi demanded.
“Wait for it,” Greede said. “Oh, I love this part. The part where you figure out you could have stopped me all along but you didn’t. You didn’t see the full picture, and now you realize just how badly you screwed up.”
“Shut the fuck up, Greede,” I snapped, before turning to my sister. “Unless what, Gil?”
“Not unless he had within his possession some means to make creatures with free will do what he wants,” she said. “Like the gas he used to bend us to the succubus’ will at the auction.”
“There it is!” Greede hollered. “There’s the look. Yes, Miss Ashendale is indeed correct. The compound in the gas was a derivation from the gland of little peculiar demon that can implant suggestions in the mind of travelers, way back when people actually waded through forests to get to where they wanted to go. Add to it the suggestion of a succubus and voila! — instant mind control. And I personally want to thank you for your participation: if the compound works on three of the most powerful magic users on the planet, as well as the famed Ashendale siblings — one who defeated not one, but two, of the Seven Deadly Sins — well, it is sure to work on a blank slate of a mind that was quite literally manufactured last week.” Greede sighed contentedly. “Oh, how I love being a daddy.”
All of us were stunned to silence. However, I think I can sum up the general feeling:
Fuck.
Amaymon chuckled, then began laughing. I gave him a look of ‘what the hell is so funny?’ but he kept laughing until he stepped forwards towards Greede.
“Alright then,” he said. “You got yourself a big bad new toy. Whip it out then.”
Greede cocked his head. Clearly, the demon had confused him. “Excuse me?”
“Pop it out,” Amaymon challenged. “Bitch.”
“The hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Don’t you guys see?” Amaymon said. “It’s a dud. Dumbass over there went through all that trouble, did all them crazy mad scientist experiments, and all he got was a statue. A statue of a man with no dick, literally and metaphorically. There ain’t no magic in that thing. Otherwise, it won’t be standing over there like a coat hanger. He’d have thrown it at us the second we invaded, just to test it out.” He grinned at the now-no-longer-smiling Greede. “Ain’t that right, dumbass?”
Greede pursed his lips. A flicker of annoyance passed through his expression and the facade of the nice, polite guy slipped for a split second.
“The extraordinarily crude demon is right,” he finally said. “Omega Mark IV is inactive.” Greede glared at Amaymon. “I want you especially to watch this next part. Because after I’m done with your master I shall enslave you.”
“Eat a bag of dicks,” Amaymon respond, flipping him off.
The barrier shimmered and light exploded, momentarily blinding us. I felt space warp and saw a figure — one of us — being sucked out of the barrier and in front of Greede. I thought it was Amaymon, having incurred the psychopath’s ire.
When the glow died down, I saw Ezekiel stand on the other side of the barrier.
“It’s been a while since I used my Sin powers,” Greede said. “But it was the quickest way to get the final ingredient: an angel.”
Ezekiel’s form did not change or shimmer. Power exploded off of him, emanating in waves. I felt it heavy on my shoulders, like a desert heat making breathing twice as hard and pinpricks of fire stabbing at my skin.
“I shall never surrender to you, Sin of Greed,” the angel said. “You will face your demise at my hands. In the name of Heaven.”
Greede waved him off. “It’s not fun if you surrender, silly. And besides, I may have given you the wrong impression. The last ingredient isn’t you.” His lips widened, and he looked very much akin to a crocodile zeroing in on its prey. “I just need your still-beating heart.”
Chapter 23
Ezekiel stepped forwards. Light flared from him. His body began shifting. Gone was the scruffy, bearded, homeless person wearing a tattered green jacket and jeans with a plethora of stains on them.
In his place now stood a majestic creature of light, a proper emissary from Heaven.
Golden hair flowed from his head, his chiseled features beyond description. Three pairs of wings flared from his back — six iridescent wings of light.
Gold and silver armor adorned his body, adding more bulk to his already impressive frame. A staff materialized in his right hand. Two snakes crisscrossed each other at the tip, making the weapon a caduceus, the traditional symbol of healers. In his left hand, he held a massive round shield which pulsated with light from within.
“In the name of Heaven,” Ezekiel declared, every syllable resonating with power, “I declare your demise. Prepare yourself, Sin of Greed.”
Alan Greede beamed and held up his right hand to his chest. A thick book manifested into reality. I recognized the cover, along with the ominous power pulsating from it: the Necronomicon, one of the most powerful magical artefacts on the planet.
An artifact I nearly died to protect and keep out of the hands of crazy psychopaths.
Yet another thing I failed at.
Greede flipped the book open and muttered a guttural word. The air popped, before filling up with Anima Particles, little charged molecules of magic that precluded a summoning.
Out of thin air, three of them appear
ed.
Hunched over, with their arms disproportionately longer than the rest of their body, Nightgaunts were the stuff of nightmares. They had a giant vertical slit where their mouth should have been. They opened wide, revealing a spiralling maw of teeth, and screeched. It was like metal being torn apart. I pressed my hands to my ears and wrenched my eyes shut.
Ezekiel stood stalwart in front of them, seemingly unaffected.
The Nightgaunts flared their chiropteran wings, tails swishing to and fro, before they crouched slightly.
All three of them were suddenly upon the angel, claws slashing. Ezekiel moved with unnatural grace. He thrust his shield in between them, while swinging his staff with such power that every time it made contact, there was a loud snapping noise, like leather cracking.
Seconds later, the Nightgaunts were on the ground, bones broken, breathing erratically.
Greede made a throaty noise, like a cat purring, and flipped a page on the Necronomicon. The Nightgaunts melted into puddles of inky ooze, before slithering around.
At the same time, the space around Greede shimmered. Creatures popped into existence, each identical to the others. I’d seen goblins before: short stocky three foot creatures with thick hide for skin, ropey arms and three stubby digits at the end of each hand.
These goblins were brown skinned, as if formed out of wet mud, and wearing black suits, along with bright red ties. They looked like little bankers or politicians, were it not for the glowing red eyes and the fact they were actual goblins.
The diminutive armada launched itself at Ezekiel, who swung the staff in a wide arc. A beam of light, much like my favored attack using Djinn, arced towards the oncoming forces.
Black ooze sprang to life, wrapping around the angel’s limbs. Upon contact it began sizzling, as if the angel’s flesh was smiting it out of existence. Ezekiel stumbled backwards and the first goblin flew towards his face. The punch rattled the angel. Several more grabbed at his wings and bits of his armor. They pulled the shield down, allowing the ooze puddles to whip a multitude of tentacles across his face.
Ezekiel fell to the ground, punching and kicking at the goblins. Power flared from him, igniting the goblins with holy blue fire. The serpents at the end of his staff came to life, biting down on the ooze and dissipating it.
Once again, he stood up, victorious. “Enough trickery,” he boomed. “Show yourself.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Greede said. “And besides, you might wanna pay attention to your surroundings, buddy.”
Something caught my eye. It was the smallest of movements, and had the fighting not paused I would have likely missed it. One of the splashed puddles of ooze — lifeless and broken down — shifted, elongating. The others joined it, merging along with blood, ichor and ectoplasm.
Again, nothing weird about that. This was a battlefield and battlefields are ugly, gory places.
The pattern triggered a memory in my head, one of me fighting an angel much like Greede was doing now. I told the Vensir what to do, gave them a specific set of instructions. They had to draw a symbol on the ground.
“GET OUT OF THERE!” I screamed.
Ezekiel turned, too late.
Greede snapped his fingers. The ooze and goblins melted away and the sigil forming by their remains glowed to life. It covered the entire battleground, enveloping it in magic.
One sigil, designed for one explicit purpose: to cut off otherworldly beings from their source. In this case, to sever the connection between Ezekiel and Heaven, thereby cutting off his divine power.
“No,” the angel gasped. “What is this?”
Greede let out a bark of laughter. “Mr. Ashendale, do you recognize your handiwork? It was genius! I would have never thought of it myself, had I not seen your battle against Raphael. It was just brilliant. Cut the angel off from the source and they are ripe for the killing.”
Foul magic billowed from his person. Greede’s eyes glowed sulfuric yellow.
“Now, the real fight begins.”
Ezekiel slammed the pommel of his staff to the ground. The twin snakes shifted and the staff morphed into a spear. The tip was split into two prongs, each razor sharp at the edge.
And that, more than anything made me realize just how thoroughly fucked we were.
I studied weapons as a kid. It was part of my monster hunting curriculum. Ezekiel’s weapon, despite looking badass, was not designed for killing. It was a restraining weapon, one designed to disarm and control, not deal lethal blows. The shield made sense now.
Not to mention the angel’s overall battle performance.
He never actually killed anything. He beat them, hit them, broke them — but never dealt the finishing blow. Ezekiel was a healer not a warrior, and the only reason he was still alive was because Greede was not a front line fighter either. Anyone who relied on summoning like he did sent a clear signal that they aren’t capable of dishing out the pain themselves. Against a high-speed damage dealer like Amaymon, both of them would be destroyed in a matter of seconds — unless they devised some sort of strategy.
I knew for a fact that Ezekiel had no such thing, unlike Greede, who planned for everything. The guy had schemes on top of his already existing schemes.
Ezekiel readied his lance. “I will not ask you again, demon. Show your true self.”
Greede giggled. “And you think I’m hiding who I really am?” His giggle morphed into full blown laughter. “I’m human, you idiotic creature. I’ve always been human.”
Ezekiel’s hand quivered. “It can’t be.”
“Oh, but it can,” Greede said. “You see, I’ve been aware of the Seven Deadly Sins for a couple of decades now. You might even say I’m pals with the guy who started all this. And I gotta tell you, when I realized I was just going to sit on the sidelines and watch, I was a little jealous. So I found Mammon, the original receptacle for the Sin of Greed, and I chopped him up into tiny little pieces before integrating him within me.”
“Impossible.”
“Possible!” Greede snapped. “I have made myself the Sin of Greed. I sought ultimate power and I earned it. Unlike you angels. You’re given this power — is that how you think the world works? That we’re handed our power and destiny by some deity? No, sir! I take what I want, when I want. That’s how I earn it.”
“You are an abomination to your kind,” Ezekiel said. “I shall gladly pass judgement on you.”
“And I refuse to accept both it and your false god,” Greede responded.
Remember when I said that angels are super touchy about the whole God thing?
Ezekiel exploded in a supernova of light and power, and lunged at Greede. The two collided in a massive explosion of power, both holy and unholy.
It was over just as quickly as it started. The light faded away, leaving behind a battered and bloodied Ezekiel.
Greede stood unharmed.
Behind him, solid yet phantasmagoric at the same time, loomed a monstrous, multi-armed pot bellied demon. Two of his arms were the size of army trucks, and slammed protectively on either side of Alan Greede. The demon’s head was droopy and hazy, like someone on a drug high. Two horns jutted horizontally from where it’s ears should have been. Multiple arms, thin and frail, long and ropey, thick and stubby, emerged from every available surface on its gargantuan body. It sat on short stubby legs, partially covered by the largest pot belly ever imagined.
All in all, Mammon looked like a bloated mutant centipede that was perpetually stuck in a sit-up position.
“Ah, yes,” Greede cooed affectionately. “It’s been ages since I brought out my pet. What have you got for me, Mammon dear?”
The demon made a rumbling noise. He lifted one of his two giant hands and splayed open wardrobe sized fingers.
Torn and crumpled angel wings fell limp to the floor.
My eyes flew back to Ezekiel.
He was leaning on his lance. His armor was partially gone, along with his shield. The wings on his right side, all three
of them, were viciously ripped out. Golden ichor, the angelic equivalent of blood, pooled at his feet.
“Time to end this,” Greede said.
Mammon swiped his massive hands with lightning speed. Ezekiel tried moving but he faltered and stumbled. Mammon caught him and ripped out the rest of his wings.
Ezekiel’s scream resonated on a deep level. It wasn’t just the scream of someone in pain. Greede was harming the very embodiment of kindness. I could feel despair and helplessness creep into my mind, a black pit of negative emotion gnawing at my soul.
Mammon held Ezekiel in front of Greede. The latter grinned sadistically. He raised his right hand and a sickly aura of black magic covered it.
Greede pressed his glowing hand on the angel’s chest. Immediately, the golden armour shattered like glass. Red welts spread from Ezekiel’s chest, who screamed again and again. Tears fell from his eyes, streaming down his beautiful face and scarred body.
“Yes,” Greede said. “Yes. Yes! Fear me. FEAR ME!”
He plunged his hand inside the angel’s chest, roaring with laughter as the angel’s screams doubled. With a triumphant cry, he wrenched his hand out and held up the golden still-beating heart of the archangel Ezekiel, Virtue of Kindness.
“Told you to be careful what you wished for,” Greede said.
With a lazy grunt of effort, Mammon pulled Ezekiel apart, tearing him in two, before dropping his remains on the ground.
Chapter 24
There are few things in this world — especially after a lifetime of seeing horrors — that can make me turn and vomit my guts out.
Watching an angel getting its heart ripped out and then torn in half was certainly one of them.
But even as I heaved, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Ezekiel’s remains. The angel’s body was already evaporating into light particles but the process was nowhere near fast enough.
