by M. K. Gibson
I closed the letter. I wasn’t ready to re-read it. I wasn’t ready to be related to Cain. I wasn’t ready to think more on Ricky.
And in that dark moment, the words I heard in my head, when the Light of the Tears filled me, came back to mind. His words.
“YOU ARE THAT YOU ARE.”
I didn’t know what it meant. But here, now, with my friends and family, I was OK with that. I had to be. The world really didn’t offer me a choice. So I passed out in a mix of confusion, accomplishment, and self-loathing.
And I slept, blissfully, with no dreams of death and pain.
Only hope.
Epilogue
Now, in Dante’s Bar & Brothel
Ricky sat in his central control room adjacent to his private office deep below Dante’s Bar & Brothel, smoking a large cigar and smiling. Across from Ricky sat Archduchess Lady Bathin. Between them on the table, glowing gold, were The Tears of God.
“As you requested,” Bathin purred.
“Perfect. Just perfect,” Ricky said as he picked up The Tears and felt the warm energy of them flow through him.
“You know I can’t even touch those,” she said, and Ricky nodded.
“You’re a demon, honey. I’m a child of The Light. These are like coming home for me.”
“So I see.”
“So,” Ricky said, setting the Tears down and relighting his cigar with the tip of his finger, puffing it back to life. “You ready to bring this much attention on you when the Trans-Global network opens?”
“I still can’t believe I agreed to that,” Bathin said.
Ricky grinned to himself. Salem had The Ring and was already learning to use it. Good.
“Don’t worry. It will make you a shining example of demonic ingenuity, using humans for your own advancement. You already were a rising star within the nobility. Now you will be that much more powerful.”
“What about the humans? The Brotherhood of Engineers? They already have more power than a human organization should. What if people truly begin to have faith in the angels and it restores their power beyond that of ours?”
“What’s your point?”
“We aren’t like you! The great families only have so much power left to them after The Great Ascension. The humans and their technology, their machines could actually defeat us if there were another war.”
“You knew this when you agreed to work with me,” Ricky said, sounding agitated. “Have I not kept you full of power using the old ways?”
“But, demonic society could collapse!”
Suddenly, with no warning, Bathin was no longer sitting at a conference table. She was once again in Hell. And before her was Lucifer Morningstar, not as the bright light, the beautiful angel, but in the form of Satan. The Adversary. In full fiery fury the King above The Princes, leader of the fallen, towered over her. His rage forced her to drop to the ground in supplication.
“THE DEMONIC FALL IS WHAT I DESIRE, YOU SLAG.”
“Forgive me, my lord and master. I lost sight of the vision,” Bathin pleaded.
And in the blink of an eye, they were once again in the conference room and Lucifer was once again in his form of Ricky. He picked his cigar back up and puffed on it.
“First, stop worrying. Keep your eye on the long-term goals. The Princes need to be brought down if I’m to resume power,” Ricky said with only a slight edge to his voice.
“Of course,” Bathin said.
“You know the Accords. I cannot exert direct interference upon mankind unless they ask for my help. So, we need to set up a world order where the only place for them to turn to is me. And as I succeed, so will you. Stick to the plan.”
“But, sire, I don’t know the full plan.”
“I know,” Ricky said, puffing his cigar.
He then stood and moved to his wet bar. He poured himself a drink and inclined his glass at Bathin in offering and she nodded. He poured a second, then returned to the table. “Besides, I have an in with the angelic host, remember. Their leader is my brother, after all.”
“Michael? I thought he hated you. The battles you’ve fought. Heaven versus hell.”
“All in the past,” a voice said as Michael stepped through the shadows. As Ricky was able to move through the light, Michael was able to step through the dark.
“Brother.” Ricky stood and embraced the towering archangel. “Could you please take on another form? You’ll give me a crick in my neck.”
“As you wish, big brother.” Michael smiled and in a swirl of mist and shadow, his form shrank down to a smaller seven-foot version of himself.
“Showoff,” Ricky said.
Michael helped himself to a drink from the wet bar and sat down at the table. “We took a big risk in getting these,” Michael said, pointing at the Tears of God. “Once I let the Deep Ones in, I was no longer in control. But you were right. Once they were inside me, they only wanted The Tears to be removed.”
“Had to be that way, kid. But I knew they’d heal you.”
“You were in on it the whole time?” Bathin asked.
Michael and Ricky laughed and clinked glasses.
“Do you think I’d leave things to chance? Come on, you know me better than that.”
“And your rivalry?”
“Behind us,” Michael answered, and Ricky grinned. “When Father left us behind, he left all of us. And we few remaining true angels had no guidance. No direction. We had the Tears and a place to use them, thanks to Cain. But little else. Imagine my surprise when Ricky reached out to me and asked if I would like to reshape the world. To reunite the angels and demons. But to do it, we would first need to awaken The Deep Ones and then remove the old guard.”
“Bathin,” Ricky said, “it’s simple. Let the ancient adversary of God free in order to drain the power of the high demons. Give the world a common enemy to fight. And when that war is over, when demons have little to no power left, mankind will turn on their masters. Break their yoke. To do this, to whom will humanity turn?”
“The angels,” she said, seeing the plan unfold. “The very ones who had been helping mankind. The ones filling with power due to their faith in them. Brilliant.”
“I know,” Ricky said, leaning back in his chair with his arms interlaced behind his head. “A new war is coming. Unlike anything seen before. When it is over, and we win, those loyal to me will have a seat of honor.”
“And should the angels’ power rival yours? The rest of the Trinity?” Bathin asked.
“That’s a good question. Michael? Where do we stand with Sariel, Gabrielle, and Remiel?” Ricky asked.
“Sariel and Gabrielle are with us, as you predicted. Remiel . . .”
“Remains faithful,” Ricky finished. “She is a loose end we will tie up in time.”
“But, lord, doesn’t Cain control that Well of Souls?” Bathin asked. “He is far from supporting you.”
“For now, for now. If he can’t be swayed, then he will be removed,” Ricky said simply. “His descendants can also take power over the Well. And I know where they all are.”
“That’s why you keep the smuggler?” Bathin asked.
“One of the reasons. Like I kept telling everyone, I needed to make the boy ready. It wasn’t my fault they never knew which boy. Thanks to Salem, the nephilim, the scion of Hope, will be ready when the time comes.” Ricky laughed as he turned to Michael. “Brother, shall we?”
“Yes,” Michael said.
The First and The Second, the Sons of Light, took up a piece of The Tears of God. They felt the warmth and power of the Divine radiate up their arms and fill their power level beyond comprehension.
Then, together, they focused their will, and worldwide, every burning coal fire deep within the earth suddenly went out.
The Deep was no longer afraid of the light, fire, and pain.
********
Now, in Löngutangar
“Come to me, Khurzon,” the voice said.
Khurzon moved through the shadows
of night, on the outskirts of Löngutangar where the surveillance equipment was nonexistent. The wrath demoness knelt before the cloaked figure. “I obey.”
“We are reunited. This pleases me,” the figure said.
“As it does me,” Khurzon agreed. “Your alliance with ‘Rictus’?”
“As strong now as it was the day he bestowed you to me.”
“I am humbly your weapon. When shall I strike?”
“In time, Khurzon, in time.”
“The children, I had to return them here. Forgive me.”
The figure placed a hand on Khurzon’s head. “There is nothing to forgive, my beautiful weapon. The children were a necessity to gain you access here, to me, and to garner trust from them. Rictus is cunning.”
The figure removed the hand and stepped back into the shadows. “When I have need, I will call upon you. Until then, be my eyes and ears in places I cannot go.”
“Of course, master.”
********
The following December in Ars Amadel
Salem parked his borrowed car outside RM’s home, nor far from the railway yard in the Sandy Spring district of Ars Amadel.
Ars Amadel wasn’t laid out like Ars Goetia or Lemegeton, built upwards in vertical slices of technology and station. No, AA was more like how world used to be, with open fields and opens mines.
RM’s home was quite nice—a little two-story brick home with a fence—but a touch retro. But that was RM.
Salem knocked on the door. His stomach was in knots. Inside was his old friend and mentor.
And Cara.
That alone almost made him hop back in the car and peel away at deathly speed.
No. He needed to do this.
Salem knocked again. No answer. Was he late? Early? Wrong day?
Salem closed his eyes and listened. Inside he heard three heartbeats and the muffled sounds of someone trying to scream.
Salem pulled both his blasters and kicked in the door. Salem dove into a roll, avoiding any incoming fire. He popped up with both weapons pointed.
“Hi Dad,” Jensen said.
The cyborg had a new cybernetic arm that gleamed silver in the light from the lamps of the small living room. Jensen stood behind RM and Cara, both of whom were gagged and bound to dining room chairs.
In Jensen’s new metallic hand was a small device. A detonator.
“Jensen,” Salem said calmly, “I don’t know what you’re thinking. But don’t—”
Jensen pressed the trigger.
The two-story brick home exploded.
About the Author
M. K. Gibson is a husband, father, a retired USAF MSgt and a lifetime geek. Ever since he saw the Rankin-Bass The Hobbit movie in 1980, all he ever wanted to do was create and tell fantastical stories.
M. K. Gibson lives in Mt. Airy, MD with his wife, and first-line editor, Valerie, their son Jack, their schnauzer Murphy, newfoundland Sully and their cat Mini.
Follow M. K. Gibson on Twitter at @GibsonMK1, Facebook author page and read updates and insane blogs at MKGibson.com.