by Darcy Town
Tokala yipped in response.
Belial ripped a door off its hinges. She sashayed into the stadium, still invisible to those around her. The field spread out in front of her. She soaked it in. The first inning started, and the team took to the field.
Belial glanced over at Tokala. “I’ve seen this game before!”
The pitcher threw the first ball. The bat cracked and the baseball soared into the crowd. The batter ran for first base. Belial dropped her invisibility and leapt on him like a cat. She pinned the batter to the ground. She grinned, hopped up, and stepped on his back, keeping him down. The team gaped.
A security guard rushed her, his gun drawn. “Let him—”
Belial eviscerated him with a swipe of her claws. She held the dead security guard upright by holding on to his neck. The stadium went silent, frozen in shock. She splattered blood and guts across the ground, forming in an elaborate symbol. She turned to the stands. “I claim this field for Lucifer Morningstar!”
The team on the field backed away. Security guards poured onto the field, but Belial did not give them a second glance. They aimed their weapons. Tokala leapt at the nearest group. They took one look at the giant fox and turned, running away. Celeste dove into the second group coming in from right field. Men went flying, hitting the ground unconscious and bleeding. She took punches and shots, unaffected. She worked her way back to the doors they had come in through, compelled by a rage that would not allow her to stop. Tokala barked and followed her.
Belial dropped the corpse of the eviscerated man. She picked up the man she had stood on and shook him. He screamed. The crowd, jolted out of their initial shock, got up from their seats, and ran for the exits. Belial amplified her voice so that it filled the stadium, “Sit.” The command forced the people back into their seats.
The cameras cut away from her. She looked at the various camera crews around the stadium. “Continue to broadcast or I start killing lots of people.” Her face reappeared up on the jumbo screens. She grinned and hopped from foot to foot. “So cool!”
She gestured towards Jacob. “Make sure this is going out on the TV.”
Jacob ran into a dugout to check a screen. He walked back on the field, gave Belial a thumbs up, and took up a spot next to Tracy. Tracy looked at everything nervously. The men in the stands were torn between staring at Belial with fear or leering at Tracy with lust.
The manager of the home team walked out on the field, his movements slow and cautious. “What are you? What do you want? Cash?”
Belial grinned. “I’m here to challenge your gods to a fight.”
The man looked confused. “What?”
“Which one do you believe in?”
The man frowned. “I’m an atheist.”
Belial pouted. “It’s appreciated I guess, but boring.” She looked at the batter who was petrified in her embrace. “Which one do you believe in?”
“God.”
“Yes, they’re generally all called that. Which one specifically?”
“The Ch—Christian God.” He held up the cross that was around his neck.
Belial pulled it off. “I hate humans using our symbols as your own.” She slipped the cross over her neck and looked at the sky. “Christian God, I challenge you. If you’re real, smite me!”
Belial held her hands out, embracing what would come, but nothing happened. She shrugged. “I guess he doesn’t care for you much.” She smiled and threw the man towards the dugout. “I win! Next?”
An angry man in the crowd shouted, “Thou shall not test God!”
“Why not?” Belial whirled around. “It’s so damn funny to watch your expressions as nothing happens!”
The man went red faced. “It’s a sin!”
“I am sin.”
No one else volunteered any gods. Belial sighed. “Okay I’m challenging Yahweh, Brahma, Ahura Mazda, and Confucius! Four against one!”
Jacob shook his head. “Confucius isn’t a god.”
“Shut up!” Belial smiled as nothing happened. She jumped up and down. “More wins for me! All right, I challenge Jehovah, Siva, and the Kool-Aid guy, god of neon beverages!”
“Oh yeah!” Tracy burst out in hysterical laughter.
Jacob glanced over at his friend. “What about Odin? Can’t forget the Norse gods.”
Belial didn’t spare them a look. “He’s busy in the City I’m sure.”
“Uh-huh.” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you just challenge Jesus and get it over with.”
Belial stuck her tongue out. “Say that in front of Tokala, please, I want to see what happens.”
A little red dot appeared on Belial’s chest. She smiled. The Chulyin squawked, but she waved him away. The sniper fired. The bullet tore through her chest. A few people in the audience cheered. The wound healed.
Belial laughed. “More?”
Five red dots appeared and five bullets followed. The bullets hit her ribcage and passed through her skin and bone. She did not even flinch; she healed and smiled. Another bullet hit her skirt, tearing a hole in the fabric. Belial frowned. “Okay, that’s enough of ruining my new outfit.”
The Chulyin dove and took out the police snipers.
Dozens of Solomon Soldiers gathered up in the stands, massing from the crowd. They stepped out on the third baseline. Belial recognized a few from outside; they no longer carried their signs of plastic and cardboard. She grinned.
“Here we go.” She snapped. Tracy and Jacob stepped in close. Celeste ran out to join them, her clothes torn and bloody, a smile on her face. Tokala followed on her heels, bounding along happily.
Belial let her voice drop as they all drew near, “Look confidant. No fear or they’ll start shooting early.”
The men wore armor of iron and carried an assortment of old fashioned and modern weaponry. Tokala retreated behind Belial, moving towards first base. The Solomon Soldiers stopped at home plate and looked Belial up and down. “Your last stand? Could not escape with the others?”
Belial laughed. “Why would I escape when I have so many more of you to kill?”
The man smirked in response. “Four or five against us? All of these people? You will never make it out alive.”
Belial grinned, feral. “What do you think I am?”
“The Lilliam princess, but even she can be killed. We have iron bullets.”
“You think I’m Apple?” Belial doubled over laughing. The man shot her in the shoulder. Belial ripped out the iron bullet and threw it to the ground. The wound healed. She lost her smile, her voice loud so that all could hear, “I am the fallen Archangel Belial. I represent Lucifer Morningstar and Ladriam Evenstar.” She bowed to the audience. “On behalf of the aforementioned I am here to usher in a new age, their new age.”
The crowd was rapt, looking between the two forces. The leader of the Solomon Soldiers pointed his gun at her. “You work for Satan! You are damned!” He gestured to the crowd. “Anyone who falls in line with the Fallen are damned! You will know only Hell!” He looked to the crowd. “Revelations is upon us! Lucifer returns for the final war, his plan to kill you all!”
Belial grinned. “You bet he is, you are usurpers, this is his home! This place does not belong to you; it is by our leave that you live at all. You have misused our resources and killed the true children. Your existence is an illness! This wrong will be righted, starting now, with you.”
Veins stood out on the man’s neck. “You will be annihilated.” He raised his ring.
Belial threw a knife. The man’s severed finger fell to the ground. She screamed before he could move to retrieve it. The sound hit them like a physical blow, knocking the Solomon Soldiers to the ground. They held their heads as pain ripped through their skulls, but the sound did not stop.
Belial’s eyes turned luminous. Her skin flickered with a spectral light, and her blonde hair turned ice white. She rose off the ground, energy throbbing around her. Her scream shattered windows and burst human eardrums. She called the sound
forth from another plane. The noise came from everywhere at once. The sound was angelic singing perverted, grace turned to frenzy, ecstasy to anger.
The sound hit the humans in the stadium like a wave; it invaded their senses and destroyed the vital parts of the brain that ruled over impulse control. Her scream attacked the same parts of the brain that the Solomon Soldiers did. It warped the design the angels created and distorted the message. Her shriek activated their base instinct to self-destruct.
The scream passed through the audience like fire, awakening their minds to a craving for destruction and the wild abandon to make it so. Their eyes became red, their skin slick with sweat. They panted. The humans slumped in their seats, awash in sensations of the flesh.
The scream died; her mouth closed and she shifted back. She retook her normal appearance. She grinned at the tens of thousands of humans in thrall, in the spell of her madness. She pointed towards the exits. “Destroy this city! Take it to pieces, burn it to ashes. Embrace your true selves! Do this and bring ruin to everything you touch!”
Celeste grabbed her arm. “But not the kids.”
Belial blinked. “What?”
“Children, tell them to leave the children out of it.”
Belial rolled her eyes. “But not the children. Leave them alone!” She turned to Celeste. “Pansy.”
Released, the humans smiled, euphoric. They swarmed over seats; some ran out of the stadium, others ran towards the field. People ripped at chairs and rent their clothes. They gnawed on plastic and steel, breaking their teeth on the material. They pounded at concrete with bare fists and stadium souvenirs. Fires started in the food stands and jumped from place to place. People ran, clothes on fire, laughing as they spread flames and madness.
The lunacy oozed out of stadium like a plague. Fans flipped cars, rammed them into traffic, and set them on fire. Men and women tore at fences, ripped up signs, and punched in glass windows. Insanity travelled with them, infecting other humans, spreading the radius of destruction further. Sane people ran ahead of the riots, escaping before lunacy subsumed them.
Belial looked from her raving minions to the Solomon Soldiers. They stood similarly spellbound. She dismissed them, “If you have killed Lilliam, kill yourselves. If you have not, go out and destroy humanity.” The men did not hesitate. They turned their weapons on themselves, not a one stayed standing.
Belial smiled at the automated cameras that trained on her; she snapped at the closest camera. “Look at that, still no smiting.” She smirked and glanced over at her Lilliam trio, they were unaffected.
Celeste stared at the violence around her, her heart thumping to the beat of it. “What did you do?”
“Just gave them a dose of good old fashioned madness.”
“Can the others do that?”
Belial pointed her thumb at her chest. “Nope, that’s my gift.”
“Why didn’t you do it back at the house?”
A clap of thunder rumbled in the skies. Belial smiled and looked up. The clouds parted. Lightning raced along the sky. She cracked her knuckles. “Because that would have called the angels in. Time for the real show kids.”
“That wasn’t the real show?”
Belial smiled. “Fuck no, boys and girls. I just made myself visible to Heaven. Shoo now.” She stared up at the sky as an armored angel broke the sound barrier. She laughed. “Uriel! I see you! Oh, you brought me a big, sharp sword! But still with the pendant, don’t you want to play with me?”
Uriel unsheathed his long sword and hovered in the air above the stadium, pendant around his neck. He was impermeable. He smiled, anticipation making his body hum with energy. His voice roared across the stadium, “I want to play and we will, together. I will enjoy this, Belial.”
Belial swept her bladed hair back. “Then come and get it.”
***
Paimon sipped on coffee. He reclined on a couch in the café of Powell’s Books, sober and alert. He watched the windows warily. Human patrons walked around oblivious to him. He kept his eyes moving, darting from one entrance to the next. He spared Furcas a glance.
Furcas lay face up on Paimon’s chest, passed out from pain and alcohol. Paimon had one arm around him to keep him from sliding to the floor. He leaned up and checked the stitches on Furcas’ chest. He ran his hands over sutured flesh, a sickly pale color. He hugged Furcas a little tighter.
Furcas mumbled in his sleep. He flashed white and gold. Paimon shifted Furcas and tapped his cheek. Furcas turned away, caught in a nightmare of images. His skin burned. Paimon flicked his hand towards the Chulyin. “More ice.”
The Chulyin hopped over the café counter and grabbed ice behind a barista. He jumped the counter and ran to the couch with ice in hand.
Paimon slipped out from under Furcas and took the ice. He wrapped it in Furcas’ discarded shirt. He kneeled at the edge of the couch. “Furcas?”
He set the ice on Furcas’ chest; the ice melted before it touched him. The shirt steamed, leaving no water behind. Furcas glowed. Paimon swore. “He is getting hotter, sicker. We need to get moving.”
The Chulyin nodded. “There is a Road entrance nearby.”
Paimon shook his head. “He will not last the length of the Old Road.” He wiped Furcas’ forehead. “Furcas, wake up.”
Furcas’ eye opened; it was bloodshot. He gulped, his throat swollen. “Dahlia. Andy is burning!” He threw up on the floor.
Paimon ignored the vomit of alcohol and blood. “Hey, hey look at me.” He touched Furcas’ cheek and pulled his hand back; his skin blistered. He shook his hand out, pulled his sleeve down, and touched Furcas with his protected hand. “Can you feel anything yet?”
Furcas coughed feebly. “Dahlia is in a cage.”
“I meant you.”
Furcas shook his head. Paimon propped him up and leaned him against the couch. He checked his back. He pulled gauze away and examined the wing scars; the sutures he’d put in a few hours before came away with the gauze. Paimon scowled. “Again!” He pulled out a clean cloth and wiped the blood away from Furcas’ back. The scars oozed slowly; he pulled another red feather out. He stared at the bleeding flesh.
Furcas turned his head. “Are they still open?”
Paimon nodded. “You can’t feel anything?”
Furcas shook his head. “Nothing. Paimon.” He grabbed for Paimon’s hand. “They’re burning Andy.”
“Andy can take care of himself. You’re worse.”
Furcas coughed up blood. “I’m fine.”
“You only think you’re fine because you have no feeling in your body, which by the way means you’re not fine!”
Furcas tried to sit up on his own. “We need to get to the City! We have to tell Lucifer about Dahlia!”
Paimon held Furcas in place. “I’m working on it, but we can’t take you down the Old Road, Furcas. Not in your condition.”
“What about the plan?”
Paimon glared at him. “I am not going to leave your side and get the angels to chase me. Who would take you down to the City?”
Furcas looked over Paimon’s shoulder. “Belial’s on TV.”
“You’re hallucinating. More ice please.”
“No, look.” Furcas pointed.
Paimon turned around. Patrons in the bookstore stopped and stared as a barista turned the volume up. Paimon lifted Furcas off the couch and walked over. They heard Belial scream, heard her send the humans out to rampage. Paimon grinned. “She’s still on plan, good girl!”
Uriel came down into the image and hovered. The camera zoomed in on him, unsure of what he was.
Furcas blinked. “But Uriel.”
Paimon squinted. “Yeah, well, she knew that would happen. This is the distraction we need.” The image shifted to show the city of Phoenix. The skyline blotted by fire and smoke. Helicopter shots showed riots in the city and suburbs. People looted buildings and set things on fire. Bodies clogged the streets along with the wreckage of cars and fences.
The image
switched back to the stadium. An incensed and half-naked Belial squared off with Uriel. The bookstore was silent, unable to understand what they saw. The conversation between Belial and Uriel was audible. The announcers did not know what to say, they switched back to the riot outside the stadium.
Furcas’ head rolled back. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
Paimon smiled. “Or get a pick-up back to the City.” Furcas passed out. Paimon shifted his weight. He looked at the Chulyin. “Get me a badass sound system. You know what that is?” The Chulyin nodded. Paimon smiled. “Bring speakers, anything that you can find.”
The Chulyin looked back at the TV. “Are we going to do that?”
Paimon’s grin increased. “Yeah, but my way.” He looked at Furcas. “We need to get this going fast. I don’t think he can last much longer.”
“But the angels—”
“We’ll deal with them as they come, if they come. We can’t sit in here forever and Belial is drawing their attention currently.” He set Furcas down on the couch. “It’s a calculated risk.”
***
Low-flying helicopters blanketed the stadium in Phoenix. Cameras and guns focused on the scene below. Belial stood on the pitcher’s mound and kept her eyes trained on Uriel. The Archangel circled overhead, his eyes darting from side to side. Lightning raced through the sky above. “Where are the others?”
Belial spat at him. “I am by myself, you shit.”
Uriel swooped lower. “But what have I done to deserve such a present?”
Belial beckoned him. “I owe you.”
Uriel’s feet touched the ground at second base. His body was wreathed in blue light; his wings spread and vibrated. He sheathed his sword and cracked his knuckles. “Come to me, girl.”
Belial eyed his bare hands. “No sword for me? I’m surprised. You so love your implements.”
“Just my hands for you.” His eyes smoldered. He flexed. “Just me.”
Belial’s eyes burned along with his. She spotted the pendant around his neck, flashing in the light. He touched it. “You want this?”
She nodded.