by Jeff Kirvin
Beelzebub sighed. He’d heard this a million times, but The Prince of Lies loved to talk.
“Now Miss Richardson seems to be undoing what she’s done,” Satan added.
“How so?”
“She’s taken it upon herself to be the voice of reason in the face of Phillips’ tirades. She’s speaking out to anyone who’ll listen about the dangers of paranoia, the evils of fanaticism.”
“A lot of people are saying those things,” Beelzebub observed.
“Yes,” Satan said, stopping at the Pit. A vertical shaft where the missile used to be, it ran the entire depth of the complex. Satan often stopped at a railing at its edge and peered down into the darkness below. “Yes, a lot of people are indeed saying that. But most of those people don’t have the pull Susan Richardson has. She has quickly become one of the most recognized and respected journalists on the planet, largely thanks to us. People are listening to what she has to say.”
“More than they listen to people like Phillips?”
“Not yet, but they will soon. And so I have a job for you.”
“If I eliminate her, it will only make her a martyr.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I doubt her message is strong enough yet to carry on without her. It will be soon, but not yet.
“In two days, Phillips is holding a rally on the Mall. I’m quite sure Richardson will attend. You are to eliminate her, publicly, during the rally. Make it as messy as you like, for the cameras. With any luck, her death at the hands of a very recognizable demon will bolster Phillips’ point, and help spread the chaos we need so badly, if we are to defeat the angels and fulfill our calling.
“Have you any questions?”
Beelzebub bowed his head. “No, my Lord.” He was tempted to ask Satan what to do about the DTF forces that were sure to be in attendance, but the second in command of all the demons was expected to be able to handle himself. Beelzebub turned and walked away, leaving his master standing at the edge of the abyss and staring into the darkness.
An Old Friend
As the sun set on Washington D.C., Daniel wrapped his coat a little tighter. He stood on the broad marble steps of the Jefferson Memorial, one of the city’s smaller, more private monuments. It was his favorite spot in the whole city. In the spring, the trees that lined the tidal basin in front of the domed memorial would be pink with cherry blossoms. Daniel had often spent many of the few hours he wasn’t working as a paramedic reclining on the marble steps or sitting under one of those trees, reading. On the days he actually walked past the great columns and into the monument itself, he never failed to be awed by the Thomas Jefferson’s words on the walls. He dearly missed the quiet, anonymous peace of those days.
“Cold, Daniel?”
Daniel turned and saw the archangel Uriel, looking exactly the same as when they’d first met. Same brown hair, same chiseled, ageless looks, same battered leather jacket and jeans. The angel looked nothing like his legend, that of the angel who stood at the gates of Eden with the flaming sword. He looked like any other human in Washington. Centuries of blending in at work, Daniel thought. “Uriel. It’s good to see you again.”
Uriel slapped Daniel on the back and they began to walk slowly around the tidal basin. “You too, Daniel. You and Susan have both made names for yourselves. I sometimes like to think I had a little part in your success.”
“More than a little. But you could have done more. Why did you and the other angels disappear after the story broke?”
Uriel reached up, broke a small twig off a tree and toyed with it. “We felt it was your time to shine. We didn’t want to get in the way. And we felt that were we to take too prominent a role, you might not have driven the demons underground, so to speak.”
“Why is that?”
Uriel stopped and looked Daniel in the eye. “If we’d been fully present when the news of our and the demons’ existence broke, the demons might have felt so threatened that they would have declared all out war on both of us. As it was, they thought, wrongly perhaps, that they could handle you on their own. By bowing out we may have saved millions of lives.”
Daniel started walking again. “If that’s true, what’s so important to bring you out now?”
“Angels aren’t infallible, Daniel. We’re beginning to wonder if we did the right thing. I’ve kept up with current events. Even as you wipe them out, the demons are winning. Chaos, paranoia and hysteria run rampant in your society, and it’s even worse in the less developed parts of the world. A number of angels, Gabriel chief among them, are concerned that by the time the demons are wiped out, there may not be enough of human civilization left for us to guide. We’re worried that your crusade may already be a lost cause.”
Has he been talking to Marie? Daniel wondered. “Yeah, we’ve been kind of concerned about that, too. We’ve already come to a decision about it.”
“Really? And that would be?”
For a moment Daniel wondered whether or not he should explain his mission to the angel. He really knew next to nothing about Uriel, other than the fact that Uriel had helped him, Susan and Jeff just when they needed it the most. “My team is on special assignment. We’re supposed to locate Hell and kill Satan. With him down, a strike force might be able to take down the demons’ nerve center. You wouldn’t happen to know the location of Hell, would you?”
Uriel laughed. “No, the demons generally make sure we angels aren’t privy to that kind of information. But I could try to find out for you.”
Daniel almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Really?”
“Daniel, it’s the least I can do. For reasons I hope you never know.”
Daniel looked around. Full dark had fallen, and the lights on the memorial made it look more majestic than usual. “Thanks, Uriel. I really—”
As he turned back, he saw the angel walking away. Must be slipping in his old age, Daniel thought. We never used to see him leave.
As if on cue, Uriel turned around and walked back to Daniel. “I almost forgot,” the angel said. “The other thing I had to say. I received word this morning that Beelzebub is in town.”
“Here?” Daniel asked. “In D.C.?”
“Yes. Phillips’ rally on the Mall is tomorrow afternoon, and if you ask me, Beelzebub’s arrival the day before the demons’ biggest human antagonist speaks to the nation’s media is a little too coincidental. You may want to be there.”
“Understood.”
“Good luck, Daniel. Until we meet again.” The angel turned and walked away. No trick disappearances anymore, Daniel noticed. He merely walked into the night.
With much on his mind, Daniel did the same.
Shortly after Daniel and Uriel departed, a man neither had noticed appeared from behind a tree. He made a few notes in a small spiral notepad, then walked quickly towards downtown.
Point/Counterpoint
When Phillips was ready to speak the next afternoon, Daniel and his team were ready. The podium was set up on a huge metal stage not far from the Washington Monument. Daniel had people set up all around, including Heinrich, his best shooter, in the Monument itself. Daniel was out of sight on the stage, only ten meters from the podium. He began a final check over his radio.
“DTF one to team. Report in.”
“DTF two, all clear,” reported Jack from the other side of the stage.
“DTF three, all clear,” reported Heinrich from his sniper’s position atop the monument.
“DTF four, all clear,” reported Lucy from her position at the base of the monument.
“DTF five, all clear,” reported Paul from behind the stage.
“DTF six, all clear,” reported Roberto from inside the communications van.
By the estimates the Park Service gave Daniel, there were over one hundred thousand people gathered on the hillside at the base of the monument and stretching up the mall nearly to the Capitol Building waiting to hear Phillips speak. Hundreds of them held signs and banners, roughly evenly split in favor of Phil
lips’ policies and opposing them. He still saw no sign of Beelzebub, though.
A limousine pulled up behind the stage. Surrounded by aides and Secret Service agents, Senator Timothy Phillips got out of the car and made his way, smiling and waving, to the podium.
“My fellow Americans and people of the world,” Phillips began, “I want to thank y’all for hearing me today. I need to discuss something that could affect the future of all mankind.
“About eight months ago, we finally learned the demons of our nightmares were real, flesh and blood creatures. In the time since, we’ve tried to wipe out this plague, and we’ve failed. The demons are, if anything, more widespread and dug in now than when this whole thing started. The UN’s Demon Task Force is a failure, and it’s about time we own up to that.
“Worse than that, the demons are everywhere. These godless monsters have had untold centuries experience blending into the human population, and that’s exactly what they’ve done. Despite what they’ve told you, the DTF doesn’t have the slightest idea how many demons there really are. The ones that weren’t named in Zagam’s files probably kept their human identities and even now work against you. They could be anyone. Your boss. A cabdriver. Even your best friend.
“And these are demons that the DTF will never find.
“So I’ve come here today with a Call to Arms. If the DTF and the federal government can’t or won’t track down and destroy these monsters, it’s our duty as Americans to do it for them. We have the right as Americans to bear arms. We have the right, as Americans, to protect our homes and families. If we can’t depend on those elected to protect us, it’s our duty to protect ourselves, and end the demonic threat once and for all!”
The crowed erupted into a cacophony of cheers and boos. The sides were drawing up.
“I call for every American to take up arms and hunt down the demons close to you. I want each and every one of you to consider yourself a demon hunter, and to strike fast and without mercy when you discover one of these monsters. I want—”
“That’s enough!” cried another voice from the side of the stage. Most of the crowd hushed as Susan Richardson forced her way up to the podium. “Don’t listen to this madness!” she yelled.
“Now just hold on there, little lady,” Phillips said, trying to maintain control. “This here’s by invitation only, and I don’t recall inviting you.”
“He’s afraid,” Susan said into the microphone. “He’s afraid a voice of reason will break his spell.”
Someone in the crowd began chanting “Let her speak! Let her speak!” and thousands of people picked up on it. Not wanting to do anything in front of the cameras that worsened his image, Phillips relented.
“Some of what Senator Phillips said is true,” Susan began. “Yes, there are still demons out there. Yes, the DTF is destroying them slower than we hoped.
“But last I checked, vigilantism and public lynchings were still illegal in this country. The witch hunt mentality Phillips proposes merely plays into the demons’ hands. It instills chaos, distrust and fear. We can’t allow fear of the demons to do their work for them. We can’t let it tear us apart!”
Someone in the crowd shouted “Demonlover!” and lobbed a beer bottle at the podium, where it caught Susan in the head. She went down, bleeding.
That was all it took. Within moments, the tensions and divisiveness in the crowd turned violent. As the riot grew, the hopelessly outmatched Park Police tried to quell it and the Secret Service escorted everyone on the stage, including Daniel, Jack and Susan, out the back.
Waiting behind the stage out of the way yet still in view of the television cameras stood a tall figure in a hat and heavy coat. When Susan and Phillips exited the stage and were in full view, Beelzebub threw off the coat and hat, revealing a huge battle-axe, and prepared to make his move.
Adversary
Madre de Dios.” Inside the communications van, Roberto couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They had all expected Beelzebub to make his move on Phillips during the speech, for maximum effect. Now Roberto had on camera a perfect shot of the demon behind the stage, getting ready to use one hell of an axe.
Roberto keyed his radio. “DTF six to DTF one. Come in, boss.” He got no response from Daniel, and judging from what he could see on his camera, neither Daniel nor Jack had even heard him.
Roberto wasn’t combat ready, but he couldn’t just sit there and watch this happen. He took a pistol he’d only fired at practice ranges from the console next to him, opened the back door of the van, and stepped into the fray.
On the Washington Mall, chaos reigned. The tensions that had been simmering over the past few months had boiled over with a vengeance. Thousands of people were already battered and bloodied as the riot spilled into the streets of the U.S. capitol.
Inside the White House, President Walter Thomas watched the carnage on television. He looked away when Bill Peterson, his chief of staff, walked into the Oval Office.
“So you’ve seen,” Peterson said.
“Bill, how on earth did we let it come to this?” the president asked.
“I suppose we didn’t see it coming.”
“Bullshit, Bill, a blind man could see this coming. We were just too afraid of standing up to Phillips and his witch-hunters to act on it.”
The President of the United States continued to watch the riot unfold on his television. Before long, he thought, I’ll be able to watch it out the window. “It’s not going to get any better,” he said. “Call in the National Guard.”
Roberto ran, not for his life, but for others. From his vantage point, he was still the only one that could see Beelzebub. His shouted warnings were lost in the din of the riot, and the demon was closing in on the tight knot of people that was Daniel, Jack, Susan, Phillips and a handful of Secret Service agents.
Though Roberto had his pistol out, he dared not fire. The demon was in a direct line between him and the others. If he missed, he might end up doing the demon’s work for him. His only hope was to get close enough to the demon for a shot he couldn’t miss before the demon reached his target.
And it soon became obvious as Roberto lugged his heavy frame across the Mall that he wasn’t going to make it. Ten meters away from Beelzebub and twenty-five from Daniel, Roberto took his shot.
The bullet flew high and wide to the right. The demon kept running.
Roberto couldn’t let this happen. He took off with everything he had, figuring if he gave himself a heart attack, maybe his momentum would let him tackle Beelzebub anyway. Scant meters before Beelzebub would be in striking range of his first target, Roberto let go a primal scream and made contact. He and the demon went down in a tangle of limbs.
Daniel whirled at the commotion and saw Roberto struggling feebly but bravely with the demon. “DTF one to team,” he shouted into his radio. “Beelzebub is behind the stage. ‘Berto’s down! Move it!”
Daniel and Jack moved into position as Beelzebub regained control of the situation. They couldn’t get a clean shot because the demon was using Roberto as a shield. He held Roberto in front of him with one hand and the axe at his side with the other.
“You’ve got nowhere to go, Beelzebub,” Daniel said over the riot. “Put him down and step back and no harm will come to you.”
“Well,” Beelzebub replied in his thundering baritone, “since you put it that way…” Uncurling his arm, he flung Roberto to the side. At the last second, he refused to let go of Roberto’s jaw. Even over the crowd noise the others heard quite clearly the snap of the man’s spine as he heavy body went one way and his head remained in place. Beelzebub dropped Roberto’s corpse.
Daniel couldn’t believe what he just saw. “Take him down!” he screamed.
The bullets flew from the weapons of the DTF and Secret Service, but Beelzebub didn’t seem to mind. Faster than anyone expected, he charged into his group of attackers, bringing them into each other’s line of fire. He then began to swing his axe with reckless abandon, taking o
ut two Secret Service agents before anyone thought to stand back.
And on the Mall, the riot raged on.
Allies
The battle with Beelzebub had quickly devolved into a stalemate. The demon kept moving quickly, weaving his way in front of one person after another, so no one could get a clear shot. On the other hand, the DTF and Secret Service kept everyone else out of range of that axe. And so the game continued, each side playing out little feints that ultimately went nowhere.
Then, over the noise of the riot, over even the noise of the approaching National Guard, they all heard the thunder of rockets, drawing nearer by the second.
“Look!” someone shouted.
Daniel reluctantly took his eyes off the demon and searched the sky. Out of the glare of the afternoon sun, he saw four vaguely man-shaped figures drop from the air. The first landed with a heavy thud, his back-mounted rocket scorching the grass between Daniel and Beelzebub. The other three landed soon after, surrounding the demon.
Stark white suits of armor the likes of which Daniel had never seen covered the four of them from head to toe, shifting metallic plates mimicking in shape and position all the major muscle groups. Folding metal wings swung back from the shoulder blades, each wing including an integral rocket or engine. The armor suits each stood seven feet tall, and nearly five feet wide even with the wings folded. They looked like metal, winged gods.
Beelzebub spoke first, addressing the armored figure between himself and Daniel. “Gabriel. Long time, no see.”
Gabriel answered him, the angel’s voice amplified through the armor. “It’s over, Beelzebub. You and your kind will trouble the humans no longer.”
Beelzebub looked around at the four angels that faced him, then dropped his axe. “Fine. You win. I’ll leave.”