by Roy Bright
Upon reaching the relative safety of one of the aircraft hangers Charlotte and Gary turn and admire the Archangels as they level the playing field.
Gary beams as he watches the horde abandon the fight, fleeing in terror. He imagines that this was not an outcome Hell’s army had anticipated when they instigated their attack, and he revels in the thought, his mind relishing it, and allows himself a small chuckle.
Charlotte slumps against a Humvee and is about to speak when Judas snaps at her.
“Where are your swords?”
She can do nothing but mouth words, such is her surprise at the way he addresses her.
He paces up and down. “I told you – never be without your weapons, never let them out of your sight. Did I not tell you this?”
She has never seen him this angry, not even in the first days when he had blazed into her life to rescue her.
“Whoa!” Gary says, waving a hand. “Go easy on her. We could not have foreseen this happening.”
“Always prepared, always ready.” He points at Gary. “And you, I gave you one job: to protect her, and you let this happen.” He sweeps an arm over the scene of carnage.
“Hey!” she says, stepping up to him, “I can look after myself and it is not his fault, and where do you get off talking to me like that?”
He stares at her, his eyebrows raised, his mouth open, and he takes a small step back.
The small outburst has left her panting, her heart racing. She hated arguing with him. Following her Awakening, the bond between them had developed into something unshakable, deep, like father and daughter, and even though she had presented him many typical teenager moments during their time in the alternative reality, she had always hated fighting with him. Her body’s reaction was always the same – sweaty palms, palpitations, a hot flush up her neck followed by hurtful words thrown at him as easy as saying ‘good morning’, such was her unwavering desire to win the argument at any cost (in that they were also alike). But then the inevitable guilt followed, and with it sadness, tears, and hug-filled apologies. She sighs and frowns, looking down and rubbing her forehead. Pointing at him and with concern in her voice, she asks, “Why are your wings turning black?”
He takes a deep breath and walks to her, placing his hands upon her shoulders and resting his forehead against hers. He hated fighting with her too. “It’s a long story, honey. I’ll tell you later, I promise.” He smiles. “My meltdown… a bit over-the-top?”
“A bit,” she replies, returning a smile. “But that’s you all over, dad. You’re an over-the-top kinda guy.”
They share a chuckle and then hug one another. A deep and strong embrace, one that causes Gary to smile a little.
The girl, who up to this point had remained quiet as a mouse, steps out from behind Gary’s legs. She points at Judas, smiling. “You’re an angel. I knew angels were real, I just knew it.”
He looks down at her and smiles. The last few minutes have served to push his aggression into overdrive, but the innocent and beautiful child in front of him has helped ease him out of it, back to his usual self. He looks at Charlotte, remembering how she used to be, the scared little girl whose life he had saved and, in turn, she his. He smiles, just a little, apologizing with an expression rather than words.
She nods. She understands everything in that look, at how sorry he is to have vented at her.
He cups the side of the child’s face. “I am an angel my young friend and you are quite right to believe in us. Do you wanna know a secret?”
She offers an eager and over-exaggerated nod.
“While we are here, none of the bad creatures will get you.” He smiles at her and she beams back. Her smile wanes and he frowns then looks at Charlotte. “Her parents?” he asks in a hushed voice.
She says nothing, she just shakes her head.
He closes his eyes and slowly exhales. He turns to face the girl once again. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re safe now.”
She smiles at him, a small amount of uncertainty within her eyes as they dart back and forth.
Gary points at the sword, demon blood still dripping from it. “That’s new.”
Judas glances down to the weapon then back at Gary.
“What’s going on, Judas?” Gary continues, “How did they find us? Charlotte was very careful to mask her Divinity; in fact, she was out and out drained of it following the fight. And why are these demons not turning to dust?”
“That’s a lot of questions and there’s no time for explanations right now. We have to get this situation under control and avoid any further loss of life.” He looks at them both. “Can you fight?”
“Well, we need weapons,” Gary says, nodding, “But yeah.”
“Okay then.” He nods. “Let’s get you armed.” As he prepares to move, he looks up to see Samael approaching. “What’s the word, Sammy?” he says, shaking his hand as he joins them.
Samael nods at Charlotte and Gary.
“Sammy,” she says, smiling.
“Well,” he says, placing his immense war-hammer into the sheath on his back, “It would seem we have them routed. We are mopping up the stragglers so I guess we need a plan to secure the remaining civilians and decide what to do with them.”
Judas nods. “Right then. Charley, let’s get your swords,” he raises his eyebrows at her, “and they don’t leave your side again, understood?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes then. Gary, you go with her and grab whatever weaponry you find. I then want you both to gather up as many people as you can and bring them to this hangar. I’ll take the child with me and find whoever is in charge so we can start moving the people out to a new and safer location.”
“Colonel Taylor,” she says, moving toward him.
“He’s the man in charge?” Judas asks, putting his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, and he’s a good guy, so don’t go full… Judas on him, yeah?”
He curls the left side of his mouth up a little. A smile, or as near as dammit. “Right, I’ll try to remember that.”
Samael raises a hand before they dart off to carry out their assigned tasks. “Here’s a quick one. I don’t think they are here for her,” he says, pointing at Charlotte.
“What?” Judas says. “How could they not be?”
“Well, despite their numbers it just seems a relatively small force to take down The Light, don’t ya think? I mean, if they actually knew she was here, I would’ve expected to see more… a lot more.”
“He’s right.” Charlotte says, moving toward them. “I mean normally there are loads more and most are bloody huge too, bigger even than the ape things. I’m with Sammy on this, something doesn’t feel right.”
Judas muses for a second. “Well, whatever it is we don’t have time to dick about here and try to figure it out. Let’s just count our blessings that this didn’t go south and get an exit strategy together sharpish, yeah?”
They nod at him and are about to set off to their respective goals when a sudden wind rips up around them, drawing air toward the center of the ramp. It is so strong that Judas and Samael have to extend their wings and crouch down low to prevent it drawing them into its vortex. The pressure gets the better of Gary and pulls him toward it, and Samael quickly grabs him to prevent him sliding further.
Judas takes hold of the child and draws her close to him, then casts his attention to Charlotte, concern biting into him. He is relieved to see that her Divinity has auto-enabled, cocooning her in a protective bubble.
Since the event within the church in Jersey City where the understanding was garnered that it is their connection to one another that amplifies both of their abilities, Charlotte has always received a boost to her Divinity whenever they are near one another, even more so since Judas became angelic, and it is that physical presence that has refueled her, enabling her to once again use her power.
The wind rushes to a focal point on the runway and peaks, dragging debris toward it,
lifting it into the air as it nears its center. Detritus circles anti-clockwise within – a cyclonic event gathering momentum.
Those people caught on the ramp are dragged toward it, slow at first and then gathering speed as the pressure builds and the intense vacuum sucks up all around it. The unfortunates are dragged screaming into its heart and disintegrate as they slip into the center of the invisible entity. Then, as swiftly as it arrived, the force stops, and everything that was about to be sucked into the vortex hangs in the air in suspended animation.
Samael looks up at an area of the runway where Raphael is hunkered down with two civilians under the shelter of his wings.
Raphael lifts his wings a little, checking that the cowering people are safe and unhurt and then glances at Sammy. He is about to ask him what in Heaven’s name is going on, when the vortex reverses and a portal of incredible size and power explodes open. Everything remaining within the center liquefies into molten lava and is jettisoned outward.
Closest to the eruption, Michael and Jophiel turn their backs and spread out their wings, using them as shields for their civilian wards underneath. They wince as the lava splats across them although the injury is mild.
Darkness floods over the area and the air turns hot and acrid with a powerful stench of sulfur upon it. From out of the portal, a red beam bursts upward into the sky, turning the atmosphere crimson as churning and lightning-flecked clouds erupt outward from its maw.
Charlotte closes her shield and drops to the floor, landing cat-like. She stares at the immense anomaly and casts her mind back to the nightmare she had in the classroom within the alternative reality and a horrific sense of foreboding grips her. She looks at Judas. “I’ve seen this in my dreams, I have seen this before.” She says, forced to raise her voice over the noise of the portal opening, such is its volume.
“When?” he asks, releasing his grip on the little girl and yanking his sword out of the ground where he had embedded it to anchor himself.
“A few days back. I saw a darkness flooding over the land as I was hovering above it. But then it changed to something else.” She stares at the ground as though looking for a meaning, an answer. “There was something, no somewhere, else but I can’t remem—”
An enormous horn blares out of the portal. Charlotte flinches, and everyone including the angels shield their ears from the terrible noise.
The blood-red portal changes shape, cascading down to the ground and forming a huge door. An enormous clawed hand grabs the left side of the doorway followed by another on the right and, dragging itself out, the grotesque head of the Destructor appears, its right eye still damaged at the hands of Judas during the fight in Jersey City, although the ugly wound has closed and healed over. It roars as it pulls the rest of its gigantic frame through the opening. Underneath it, hundreds of demons of all shapes and sizes pour out, taking up positions at the edge of the east ramp, howling and screaming at the Archangels and humans in front of them, terrifying the civilians and enraging the Hellwatch.
The Archangels command those around them to move, ushering them toward the hangar where others are gathered in relative safety.
People scream as each Earth-shattering footfall of the Destructor smashes into the concrete around them, causing the surface to crack and break open. Some fleeing humans stumble and fall from the shockwave, forcing those near them to stop and scoop them up, vocal in their efforts to get them back on their feet and underway again.
Another horn thunders out of the portal and this time a smaller being emerges – the figure of a cloaked and hooded man, stabbing a staff into the ground with each alternate step. He stops as he clears the pulsating energy field, easing back his hood. He smiles.
“Malphas,” Michael says, his tone venomous. He beckons his soldiers over, instructing them to form a barrier between the civilians and the demonic horde.
“What do we have here?” Malphas says, his voice sounding in their ears as though he were next to them, breathing down their necks and not the apparent 50 foot distance that separates them.
The intensity of the sensation is so fierce that it causes Charlotte to shudder, vocalizing it at the same time.
Malphas ambles toward them, the staff clunking as he thrusts it into the ground. “I am surprised to find you here. It’s not every day one gets to encounter all of his enemies in the same place at the same time. This truly must be the work of the fates.”
Judas moves in front of Charlotte protectively, extending his right arm and advising her to hold her position.
Michael drives his fearsome sword into the ground, a visual indication of the line he is drawing in the dust. “What do you want, demon?”
“Me?” Malphas says his eyes wide with mischief. “You know, the usual… death, decay, destruction, Judas’ wings and The Light’s head over my mantel piece.”
He smiles, toothy and demonic.
“But in honesty, that is not why we came here today. We are after a prize much more special than your worthless carcasses. Allow me to take it, and I will spare everybody here. Your precious humans will be allowed to live… briefly, at least.”
Another horrible smile.
Michael shakes his head. “Arrogant beast. I can tell you one thing, whatever it is that you have come for you shall not have it. So allow me to offer a counter proposal.”
There is a moment’s silence, and then Malphas raises an eyebrow. “Yes, well?”
“How’s about you get fucked.”
Judas and Charlotte snort-laugh so fiercely that everybody turns to look at them causing Charlotte to lower her head and look down, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
Malphas shakes his head and tuts three times. “Michael, Michael, Michael. It is not like you to be so rude and petulant. But I am willing to let it slide, if not at least for the comedic relief that it has provided Iscariot and the Jew bitch there.”
Judas ceases his laughing. He grips his sword and thrusts his wings backward, gliding to Michael’s side. “Say that again you prick. Call her that one more time, I dare you.”
Malphas throws his head back and laughs, enjoying the exchange, getting a kick out of winding Judas up. He looks ahead once again, and his laughing ceases as a look of concern flickers over his face. “That’s impossible. Where did you get that?” He points to the sword now resting on Judas’ shoulder.
“I guess this turn of events wasn’t in your plans, demon?” Judas says, his tone growing ever more aggressive.
Malphas sneers and readdresses his posture, attempting to return dominance to his side of the airfield. “No matter, it will do you no good to even hold… that.” He scowls and points. “We are near our endgame and your time has come. You and these pathetic bald monkeys will be removed from existence and this world shall be ours, once and for all.”
As Malphas continues to pontificate, Judas glances at his sword. A blue-green mist issues from the ruby mounted in the pommel. It swirls and circulates around the weapon and as it does, unintelligible whispering chatters out and Judas leans closer toward the sound. He smiles, grabs the weapon, and then throws it to Malphas who takes a step back, fearing that it may strike him.
It does not. It stops mid-air and hangs, the swirling mist continuing to dance all around it, illuminating the ground beneath. The mist then crackles and fizzes, forming a small electrical storm around the weapon as it transforms from steel and leather into flesh and bone, adopting its human form of Azazel. He steps forward, toward Malphas, brushing down his long overcoat with his hands. “Malphas,” he says, smiling with a brief nod of his head and a raise of his eyebrows.
“Azazel,” his reply taut, his body tensing. “Quite a flashy entrance. A bit unnecessary perhaps?”
Azazel chuckles. “Ahh well. It’s been such a long time since we last met, I thought I would put on a show for you and your… lackeys.”
Malphas regards him through narrowed eyes, all too aware of his reputation, his unpredictable nature, his penchant for sudden violence
that is well documented among the inhabitants of Hell that know him, and Malphas knows him very well. He turns toward Judas and huffs, looking him up and down and shaking his head. “Of all the pathetic creatures to control the damn thing, it just had to be you, didn’t it?”
Judas shrugs and grins. He likes this. A lot. His grin turns into a wide smile. “Well, you know, Malphas, someone had to take the initiative in this fight and since none of you fucking useless bastards have it in you to rise up…” he grins again, “…and I mean that quite literally, then I thought I would be the one.” He winks.
Malphas regards Judas with contempt. He turns and walks away, his cloak whipping outward in a circle. “So be it.” He stabs the staff into the ground, hard and using Hellspeak, the language of the Underworld, barks commands to his army. “Bring me the Seal. Kill everything else.”
A jubilant chorus of howls and roars erupts from the demons, rising to a scream, piercing and shrill.
“Don’t think so,” Azazel whispers and he streaks after Malphas, catching him off-guard, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat. He grabs the Demon Lord by the back of his head and pushes him forward, slamming his face into the ground and causing his staff to fly from his hand.
Malphas explodes into a furious rage. He picks himself up and extends his arms outward, sending Azazel skidding backward, coming to a halt further away on the concrete, laughing all the while. Malphas roars, his face contorting with fury. His body pulses and cracks as demon armor molds around him, covering him in thick bone plating. He raises his right hand into the air and his staff obeys his command, rolling across the ground and back into his hand. He thrusts it at Azazel who holds up both hands, palms outward, blocking an invisible force that causes the concrete around him to ripple and bulge under the pressure.
