To Beat the Devil

by M. K. Gibson

  “My answer is contingent on the knowledge you possess. I cannot tell you what I may or may not do without the full scope of required facts. If you are asking me if I will do my best to ensure the safety of Midheim, then my answer is always ‘yes.’ ”

  Vidar slapped his brother on the shoulder roughly. “Tell them. I am old and tired,” said the silent god. Not really silent, but a god of few words. My favorite kind. Vali gave his brother a stern look. Then his face darkened slightly and he nodded.

  “Swear you will do everything you can to ensure Midheim’s safety.”

  “I swear,” said Grimm.

  “I swear,” I said.

  “Good,” he began, and then paused, mulling over the thought process he wanted to explain. He took a few breaths and began again. “We, the collective we of gods, angels, and demons, do not have souls of our own. Maybe the original primordials did. But from the fourteen on, we were… empty.”

  I lit a smoke, offered another to Vidar, and poured myself another drink. Grimm leaned forward in his chair.

  “Go on.”

  “When God made humans, he infused an infinitesimal piece of himself into you. What you call a soul. It is this spark of the divine that motivates humans to do. To create, to destroy. That well of inspiration you people draw from. That is the echo of God in you all. It’s called ‘divine inspiration’ for a reason.

  “So when the fourteen begat the first new breed of angels, and they in turn were given license to create humans, God ensured each of their humans was born with a soul. What you need to understand is what a soul does for us. When a human worships, has faith, or sells that soul, it carries a power. A power we can draw from. Only the original Primordials have true power ordained by God. The rest of us have abilities, but not the power. A soul gives us that power. For angels, as the gods from the various pantheons, simple belief or faith fueled them. Our demonic cousins, though, have to coerce or barter for a piece of the soul, a gift given freely.”

  “Why are there even demons at all? Aren’t they fallen angels?” I asked. Vidar nodded no and Vali explained.

  “Demons are in a way angels. But a changed race. Each mythology has a place of torment. When God and Lucifer Lightbringer Morningstar fought, Lucifer lost and went off and created Hell. The remaining six sins went with him and their angels that showed allegiance. They became demons.”

  “How do you know all this?” I asked, taking it all in.

  “Odin explained it to me after I completed my birth task and began questioning my existence,” Vali explained. I could see the loss again behind those eyes. He shook his head and took a drink, and then continued.

  “When you live and laugh and cry and redeem and betray and everything you do in your life, your soul swells. Upon your death, the soul returns to the source—God—who is now more because of that soul. An investment, if you will. God allowed the different pantheons to create humans, because human worship gave us power while they lived, and human death returned those souls to God. The fraction given returns to the source, but multiplied by a lifetime.”

  “What does it have to do with the missing souls then?” I asked. Grimm nodded at the question.

  “Everything,” Vali said, frustrated. He reached his hand out, as if grasping for answers. “OK, think of it this way. When God left this plane of existence, he sealed the door. Nothing in, nothing out. Those of us who remained here are now stuck. That includes the gods of days gone by, all remaining true angels and of course the Primordials, on whose sheer presence existence is predicated. Most importantly, it means no more souls coming or going.”

  Vali could see the message was still not getting completely through.

  “You people keep fucking and making babies! There were only a finite number of souls in existence when God left. So, if there are more humans then there are souls, then voilà, soulless humans.”

  “Wouldn’t someone have noticed this before now?” I asked.

  “My question would be why the hell haven’t you noticed before now? Haven’t you wondered why there are no new movies or music or art in the last hundred years or so? Or why you people haven’t tried to rise up against your demonic masters a third time? A bulk of you don’t have the spark of creation or destruction. Just enough to be technically alive. You have nothing in you to make you want to do. So you go about your shitty lives day in and day out.”

  “That explains the music,” I said. “When we came here, I heard new music. Your people live fuller lives and their souls have grown. And it also explains the fight.”

  “What do you mean?” Grimm asked.

  “People lost faith in Vidar, if only for a few minutes, during the fight. That was when his strength was the lowest and he was tired. You two need the people of Midheim. They are literally feeding you.”

  “Yes. They are. Most of them do not know our true nature. Only a select few warriors. To the rest of them we are just ‘Vic’ and ‘Val,’ two brothers, descendants of the original Scandinavians who founded Midheim. But their belief in us gives us strength. Not like the glory days of old Viking worship, but enough that we can protect them.”

  “Everything you have said concerning the souls seems to follow logic,” said Grimm. “My question is, what about the ones I found catatonic? It would appear being born with only a spark of a soul leaves the body and mind functioning—dull, but alive. The ones I have come across are not.”

  “That I do not know,” Vali said honestly.

  “Is it possible to remove a soul?” I asked.

  “What? Why?” Vali replied. He looked like I just asked him to shave his balls with fire ants. I could see the thought was revolting to him.

  “Because that is the only real logical conclusion,” I said, speaking aloud my thoughts. “Grimm, you said that in the Whitechapel killings, the prostitutes were attempting dark rites. What if they were literally stealing souls?”

  Father Grimm stroked his short beard for a moment, and nodded. “Yes. The logic is sound. That would mean the issue was demonic. The rites they were performing were Denochian.”

  “So this means we have to dig into some dark places to get further answers?” I asked.

  “I already told you, dark places is where I operate,” Grimm said back. I would have rolled my eyes if that didn’t sound so badass.

  The blare of a horn cut the moment. It was deep and resounding, like a warning klaxon. It felt like trouble. I turned to Vali and Vidar. “Early warning horn?” I asked.

  Vidar nodded. “We are under attack.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lightning Mixed with a Steroid Orgasm

  The people of Midheim scrambled into military precision. Those who had been drinking heavily were now dunking their heads in water. Everyone was grabbing and putting on available body armor. It was a mix of the latest ARCtech Personnel Response Suits, ancient breastplates, and homemade leather. The weapons were of the same blend. Plasma weapons, old gen military rounds, axes, swords, and pole arms could be seen in the swarm of people.

  Everyone was moving to predetermined spots along the outer wall, sniper points, and sanctuaries to guard the young and old. It was obvious to me they had done this before. Grimm and I followed Vali and Vidar to the lookout tower behind the mead hall. The four of us climbed to the top as fast as we could. From the vantage point I could see the entire region. And what I saw was not good.

  Demons. A shitload of demons.

  A force of about six thousand different hellspawn and humans was coming. A horrid blend of full demons in armored transport, hellion ground troops, kudjas, and a few other nasty mutations I was not familiar with. With the demons were human militia to operate the tech and various battle-built cyborgs. Conscripts and mercs. They were about twenty miles off and coming fast. We had maybe ten minutes before they were at Midheim’s gates.

  “Why now?” Vali asked to no one in particular. Not waiting for any response, Vali snapped into General mode. He placed a hand on Vidar’s shoulder. “Brother,
take the berserks to the front. Nothing gets in. Lunar if you must, but only if you must!” Vidar nodded and vaulted the rail of the lookout tower, dropping the forty or so feet to the ground, and sprinted off.

  “Lunar?” I asked, but Vali ignored the question and grabbed an old walkie-talkie from a waterproof box along the rail of the tower. He squelched it in a 2-1-2 pattern.

  “Erik here,” came a voice from the walkie-talkie.

  “Erik, Val. Orders to follow: Activate outer defenses. Maintain perimeter. Await my order to engage. Vic en route. Upon arrival withdraw your men and support the berserks with precision fire. Orders understood?”

  “Val, Erik. Orders received. We will give them hell.”

  “They are already from hell. Give them a Midheim welcome.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Erik replied, and the voice was then silent.

  Vali next squelched the walkie-talkie in a 1-1-2 pattern. “Raven squad, Val. Orders to follow: Utilize high points within and tunnels out. Take up sniper points Alpha-2-Alpha. Upon engagement, remove enemy by rank high to low. Orders understood?” A pattern of squelches came back. Raven squad was obviously Midheim’s silent sharpshooters.

  Next, Vali hand cranked the charger for a PA unit. He took up the microphone and steeled himself for a moment before speaking.

  “Midheim!” the god announced. His voice thundered from the tower, amplified by the PA system. “Hell knocks on our door. We have driven away enemies before. We have killed Abominations. And we will do so again today. Do your jobs, fight like bastards, and then drinks are on me.”

  Roars of pride came from the people. Chants of “For Midheim!” and “Val and Vic!” were heard all over. I saw Vali’s eyes roll back for a moment and swear he was brighter and fuller of life. This was what faith did to a god. I could see their faith making him stronger.

  Father Grimm turned to Vali. “There are over three times your number of fighting men and women coming. Mathematically, you will not survive.”

  “I know. They know.” Vali gestured to the people of Midheim. “But we are going to go out gloriously.”

  The look on Grimm’s face said he refused to agree with that assessment. He paced a moment or two, pondering scenarios. I could see he was wrestling with an idea.

  “If you have an alternative to a bloodbath, spit it out, old man,” I said.

  “Do you have any way to stall for time?” Grimm asked Vali.

  The god thought a moment and nodded. “There is an old first-generation domed energy shield under the town. When we began construction, we had plans to use it as a last resort. That was over a hundred years ago and the power cells have basically nothing left. Maybe enough for twenty minutes, but that’s it. And I will not use it to hold out. I will not let my people watch their deaths waiting for them.”

  “Understood. When Salem and I clear the rear gate, activate the energy barrier. Twenty minutes is all we need. Salem, come with me.”

  “Where are you going?” Vali asked as Grimm began descending the ladder. I gave an “I have no idea” shrug.

  “Your graveyard,” said Father Grimm.

  ********

  Grimm and I left through the back gate of Midheim and jogged up a winding trail leading up the small mountain.

  “Graveyard?” I huffed, following Grimm as we ran up the winding path. I know. Winded from a run but not a brawl with a Norse god. Lord, I could have used a smoke.

  “Yes,” Grimm replied as he maintained his pace. “That is what I said.”

  “But why?”

  “Just keep up,” Grimm non-answered. After a few minutes, we came to our destination, Midheim’s graveyard.

  “I thought Vikings did funerals at sea,” I said, taking in the huge gravesite. Well, as best as I could while sucking wind and trying to light a smoke. It was a cleared area, fenced in, with headstones of various design. There were a lot of dead people laid to rest in this area. I guess that was to be expected. Life outside the cities was brutal.

  “Do you see a sea anywhere close?” Grimm said. He was kneeling on the ground, drawing odd symbols with a piece of chalk he produced from his robes.

  “Where did those demons come from? Why are they here?” I asked, feeling useless.

  “We were followed. It is the only logical conclusion. We are on to something that some demon lord does not want us to know about.”

  “But how do they know?” I asked.

  Grimm gave me an odd look, as if I should already know the answer.

  “No. Not Maz. He is my friend,” I said, getting angry at the unspoken accusation.

  Grimm stopped drawing for a moment and looked at me. “He is a demon. They do not care about us.” And he returned to his scribbling.

  “But he is back at your compound, under sedation,” I said, trying to find fault in his logic.

  “Is he?” Grimm asked. “Since arriving here, I have received no updates from Nick. Standard protocol for when either one of us is in the field. I have tried to not worry. But with a brigade of demon militia here, there is no other way. Your friend had to have betrayed us. Now, be quiet for a minute. I need to concentrate.” Grimm laid the palms of his hands flat against the earth and looked down. A slight hum came from deep within his chest.

  I took in his words, and they hurt. This is why I don’t really keep friends. The inevitable time when they let you down. I was getting madder the more I thought about it. I had to focus on something else. Then it kind of hit me—what the hell were we doing in a graveyard? I heard Grimm chanting in a language that was part song and part acid. I could not make sense of it nor did I want to. Realization dawned on me.

  “Oh no fucking way,” I said.

  The crouched Father Grimm snapped his head up suddenly, his eyes, mouth, and hands now glowing neon green. He slammed his fist into the earth up to his elbow. The green energy flowed through the ground visibly, like blood through veins. The energy spread across the graveyard. A silent scream was on Grimm’s mouth. His face contorted in pain. One word eventually came out.

  “RISE!”

  And the dead did rise.

  The multitude of Midheim dead clawed their way to the surface to walk the earth once more. Bodies in every state of death and decay pulled themselves out of the ground. Many had been buried with a weapon, and the animated dead now clutched those very weapons, preparing themselves for battle once more.

  The green energy that had revived them was binding the more decayed ones together. Like iridescent snot, gluing them whole. Chunks of flesh were partially mended into something resembling a human. A small army, now ready, waited for Grimm’s command. I stared in awe.

  “Follow,” Grimm commanded the undead legion. He began the trek back to Midheim, leading his minions. Grimm turned to me. “Go. Prepare them.” His voice strained from the effort he was displaying. I sprinted ahead, getting back to the town minutes ahead of Grimm’s horde.

  When I got back, the battle was fully underway. The energy dome was up and barely holding. It was flickering unsteadily. I scanned the field. The demons were wearing no distinct livery that I could see. So they were not flying the colors of their ruling archduke. There were four pureblood orange and black Wrath demons leading a different quadrant’s attacks on Midheim. Artillery from vehicles and human mercenaries pounded the shield. All around the outer wall, hellhounds and hellions drooled for their chance to get in. When the shield flickered, a hellion would try to jump through, only to be fried when the shield kicked back on.

  The warriors of Midheim stood ready inside, waiting for their chance. Outside the shield, among the demons, I could make out pockets of battles happening. Vidar and his berserkers had made it out of the town before the shield went up. They were smashing and destroying anything that got in their way. I saw an ARCTech cyborg commando get ripped in half by the enraged silent god. The people could see this and cheered him on. I was very glad he was not as beloved as that during our fight.

  Whenever occasional sniper shots rang out,
an energy shield around the demon lords flared up, protecting them. They were no fools. They had brought the right equipment and the right personnel for the job.

  Complete annihilation.

  That gave me pause. How would Maz have had time to prepare for this assault? Logistically, it made no sense. I stored that piece of information away for another time. Because at that moment, I was just ahead of over a thousand armed zombies coming down the pass.

  I swear I lead one of the most interesting lives. Or fucked up. Depends on how you look at it.

  I ran to Midheim’s rear gate. The energy shield was now flickering more than before. Off for a second or two, then on. There was no pattern, so I had to just hope. I got a running start, and when the shield dropped I jumped and just made it through before it came back on. I sprinted to the lookout tower and scrambled up the ladder. Vali was there calling out orders.

  “Vali, pull your men back to a safe location!” I half shouted, out of breath.

  “Why? What is Grimm doing?”

  “Don’t ask. You will not like the answer. Just do it. And where is the generator for the shield?”

  “Below the mead hall. Take the stairs down, you cannot miss it. Why?”

  “Because I am going to give it the power it needs for what comes next,” I said, sliding down the ladder like you see in the movies.

  “What comes next?!” Vali yelled as I ran into the mead hall.

  “Don’t ask!” I yelled back. “And try not to puke when it does happen!”

  “What?!”

  I ran into the mead hall. Where the hell were the stairs? That would have been a nice chunk of information to have prior to an emergency situation. I mentally kicked myself for not asking. I listened and heard the hum of the machinery. Following the sound, I found the cellar door behind the main table. Lifting it, I saw the stairs Vali mentioned leading down. I headed down quickly into the cellar.