The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

“You will be my heir,” Moloch had said once.

  Rico thought about that a lot. It helped him, especially when he was tired. You'll never amount to anything, his father had told him, before he left. Cripples never do.

  He was smarter now, too. Moloch had ways of teaching things quickly, and he now spoke every language imaginable. He knew the demon races, of their home worlds, of their governments and their true alignments. He knew Cibola, too. The entire city was mapped out in his head even though he had yet to set foot on the streets.

  “I have some news for you, if you're interested.”

  Rico didn't jump. Not anymore. He was used to the sudden appearances and disappearances of the pseudo-deity.

  “Yes,” he said without turning. “I would like to hear it.”

  “Your friends are alive for the moment. But they've fallen deep under the influence of the wretched angels.”

  Relief washed over him. “But they're alive.”

  “Yes. All four of them just caused a great commotion within the city. That's all I know for now.”

  “We ... they were supposed to go to some temple. I can't remember the name.”

  “They're beyond that now.” Moloch paused. “Look at me, Rico.”

  He turned.

  “It is time. The angels have almost been defeated, driven out of their own city. I am sending you out on a mission. On your own.”

  His heart leapt. “What do you want me to do?”

  Moloch smiled that toothy grin of his. It had taken him a while to get used to it because it was damn creepy. “It's a tad simple, but I think you'll like it.”

  “Anything you ask of me, I will happily do.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Good.” He walked to the shelf and removed one of the two periscepters. Rico was doing very well with firing them. He could make it stay lit for almost two minutes before the pain in his stomach became unbearable.

  “I want you to seek out your friends. They will be glad to see you return. It is time for their role in all of this to be played out.”

  * * * *

  “I've been dead a long time,” Dave said. He helped remove books from the top human level into the one below. The whole room was to be cleared. Indigo sat nearby, her eyes wide with surprise at what Yehppael had just suggested. “I've been buried already, I'm sure.”

  “We can adjust the Sphere,” Yehppael explained. “Though we can't go too far back, we can easily move it back to a time before your death. It doesn't affect anything here. Not much, at least.”

  “Just like that, huh?” Dave tried to appear nonchalant. He removed the last set of books from the shelf, walking them to the staircase. Christ, he thought. I can go back. I can go back home.

  “What about all the people who've died between now and when you've gone back to? How can they exist here, but suddenly be alive again?” Indigo asked.

  Yehppael sighed. “That's very astute of you. Some of our greatest scholars didn't think of that the first time the Sphere was reversed.”

  Behind him, Ashia laughed bitterly. “I remember that well.”

  Yehppael floated to the top of the shelf and picked up a set of thick, yellow books. It would've taken Dave four trips to get them all. “The answer is, they die,” he said. “It's why this has only been done six or seven times. Those who are here, stay here. Their bodies on their human worlds simply drop dead right there, even if they weren't meant to die for some time. Your human body can't survive without you in it.”

  “Geez,” Dave said. “I don't want to be responsible for any of that.”

  Yehppael shrugged. “This is your decision alone. No one will think any less of you if you decline.”

  “Wouldn't more people end up dying like this? We've been here months now, maybe longer. What if this guy was meant to die at home in three weeks, but because we do this, he ends up dying while driving his truck and plows into a school bus full of kids? I couldn't bear that.”

  “Such a thing is possible, yes. But you will likely never know one way or another. It is unavoidable.”

  Dave's head spun. “How would I know where to go ... afterwards?”

  “You needn't know anything. You will be marked before we even begin.”

  “Before, Ashia said it might not work.” The thought of him floating alone in the ether terrified him.

  “I won't mislead you. There is a great risk. However, it is much, much less with someone who has already been here. That's why I'm asking this of you. You understand the situation much more than a human who has never been here. I am confident it will work. The real danger is once you return, alone.”

  “Alone? Wait a second, I thought you said Ashia was going to help me.”

  “She will. She will infuse you with enough information to know where to go once you return. She will mark you so your soul will find the correct beacon upon your death.”

  Already, this wasn't sounding good. “I might live to be an old man, though. What if I forget all this stuff? What if I'm too late?”

  “No,” Yehppael said. “You will need to come back immediately.”

  Whoa. “But ... but...”

  The angel put a hand on his shoulder. “It is a great sacrifice. A bigger one than any one of us has ever been faced with. This decision is yours.”

  “I'm not strong enough.” He looked at Indigo, and he envied her. She'd do it.

  “No,” Indigo said. “Don't let that factor into your decision at all. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met.”

  It was absurd she would think that. The room was almost empty now. The shelves stood bare, skeletons. They were going to be removed, too. They had a dubious plan that involved blowing out half the ceiling. The whole tower was going to come crashing down on their heads probably. Then none of this would matter.

  “Okay,” Dave said. “Okay.” Beside him, Indigo smiled sadly. His hands quavered.

  Still on his shoulder, Yehppael's hand shook as well.

  * * * *

  Tamael stood nearby. Unseen, but listening. She closed her eyes, breathing deep. She tried to find a prayer appropriate for this moment, but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

  Bitter Reunions

  Alaska. A cold, beautiful day.

  Jessica sat in Earl's cramped office. With the door shut, the hiss of the grill, the clink-clank of plates, and the late-afternoon chatter of patrons—mostly loggers done for the day—was almost drowned out. Earl's oak desk dominated the tiny room, giving her barely enough space to put her feet down. They'd had to cut a bigger door hole just to get it in. Pushed up against the back wall, her head rested against the coil of a meat distributor's calendar that should've been switched over two weeks ago. But April's girl was a blonde, and Jessica knew all-too-well of her boss's affinity for blondes.

  “Waitresses don't get raises,” Earl said. His paw reached around his overextended belly, scratching his used-to-be white shirt through the grime. His gold bracelets chinked, clashing obscenely with his unkempt clothes and tousled gray and black hair. She hated it when he did that. She never knew how his shirt got so filthy. All he did was sit on his fat ass all day and stare at his calendar. “Hell, you don't even get minimum wage, and you still make more than the freakin’ cooks.”

  Sitting at home was a bill from Dr. Metcalf for almost $1,000. Jessica had no idea how she was going to pay even half of it. They said Dave wasn't gonna be able to come back until it was paid off.

  Jessica loved her son dearly. The Lord knew, she tried everything to make him happy. But the insurance only covered the visits to Dr. Metcalf so much; the rest had to come out of her own pocket.

  That damn dog sure helped. She had thought it pretty inappropriate for the shrink to recommend her son have a dog, a wolf hybrid at that. Ridiculous. Or so she thought at first. Dave grew attached to the little critter from the first day anyway. His daddy was like that. Passionate about things.

  Even though she didn't get it, Dr. Metcalf was on to something with this dog. He still had those awfu
l dreams, but Carumba was right there with him through it. It seemed to help him when he woke up.

  “Look, Earl, I really like working here and all, but I got these bills.”

  He shrugged. “If you want to try to find something else, be my guest. I'll keep you on until you do. Either that, or maybe you can take off one more of those buttons when you're serving. I bet your tips would go up exponentially for each one you undo.” He laughed, in a sickening donkey-like hee-haw.

  She tried to stand, but her hair got caught in the calendar coil. “You're something else,” she said as she struggled to free herself. “A real asshole.”

  He stared back at her impassively. “Business is business.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but decided not to waste her breath. The phone rang. He snatched it up, waving at her dismissively. She scuffled with the greasy doorknob. She suddenly felt claustrophobic, and she had to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “Oh my God,” he said on the phone. The way his eyes shot up to hers made her pause. “He's at Bartlett? Jesus fucking Christ.” He motioned for her to stop. “No, I'll take her there myself.” He hung up.

  “Get your coat. I need to take you to the hospital right now. There's been an accident.”

  It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her. His voice had undergone a strange dramatic change; he even suddenly looked different. Her heart fell. “What? What're you talking about?”

  He swept up his keys. He put a hand on her arm. “I'm sorry, Jessica. It's your son.”

  No, she thought. This was how it started with John. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  “He broke through the ice of a pond. Someone was nearby and pulled him out, but he wasn't breathing. He was taken to Bartlett. That's all I know.”

  The world spun, her whole body tingling. She didn't remember even getting her coat or being shoved into the passenger seat of Earl's Hummer.

  “There's no brain activity,” the doctor said. Point blank, like a shotgun blast out of the quiet darkness. Jessica took a step back, physically staggered. The woman looked down at her clipboard through spectacles as if double-checking to make sure she had the right patient. “I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Jolson.”

  No, no. She didn't believe it. Tragedy like this only struck a family once in a lifetime. Not more. She looked up at Earl. Helplessness encompassed her. She thought about that morning when they came to tell her about John. He'd fallen off a tree, broken his neck. When they banged on the door she thought it was one of Dave's dreams.

  “Can she see him?” Earl asked.

  The doctor nodded. “Of course.”

  Earl wasn't allowed into the unit, but Jessica followed a quiet male nurse down a hallway and through double doors.

  She'd made this walk before, also. Past the half rooms that were really nothing more than cubicles. Inside each one was a person more dead than alive, all of them elderly. They were hooked up to machines, breathing tubes, various other electrodes, each one looking worse off than the one before it.

  “Take all the time you need,” the nurse said, pulling open a curtain to reveal a boy who had been so full of life just this morning. “The doctor will come to speak with you when you're ready.” He made a quick exit.

  “Oh Dave,” Jessica said, choking on her own words. She ran to him, taking his hand in hers. It was shockingly warm. In his mouth was a tube and a few various IVs dripped. His cheek was stitched up. A machine steadily blipped. Other than the rise and fall of his chest, he was utterly and completely still.

  Brain dead, the doctor said. She wasn't a smart woman, but she knew what that meant. He would never again wake up. What lay before her was nothing more than the shell of her beautiful son.

  “What happened?” she asked no one, falling to her knees. The sobs came to her, pounding at her like the waves of a hurricane. She knew what happened. He went out onto to the ice to get the stupid dog. He had fallen through. With all of her warnings about the ice, he had gone out there anyway. Her beautiful little boy.

  The doctor was suddenly beside her, quietly awaiting her to stop crying.

  “If he has no brain activity, can he still dream?”

  “He is already gone. All that's left is for his body to die.”

  This isn't happening. Tragedy only hits a family once.

  “What ... what happened to his face and hands?”

  The doctor sighed. “They're animal bites. From a dog. According to the man who pulled him from the pond, the dog attacked him.”

  “Carumba attacked him? I don't believe that for a second.”

  The doctor shrugged. “There's something more ... pressing we need to discuss.”

  Shortly thereafter, Jessica Jolson made the most difficult decision of her life. He could live indefinitely with the machines they said, but she knew he wouldn't want that. They had never discussed such a thing—who would with their sixteen-year-old son?—but she knew he'd do the same if the situations were reversed. They were going to unhook him completely, and it would come almost immediately.

  “I'm so sorry, baby,” Jessica said when the time came, stroking his blond hair.

  She cried silently as a small team of nurses and technicians swarmed over him for a few moments, unplugging and unhooking his lifeless body. They dispersed, once again leaving her alone with her son.

  Holding his hand in hers, she returned to her knees and buried her head in his bed. There, she prayed.

  Even after John's death, Jessica was never much of a religious person. Her parents were Episcopalian, but not really. Just at Christmas, sometimes Easter. Though curiosity had led her to a variety of churches for some time in her twenties, none of them ever really stuck. She rarely thought about religion, God, the whole what happens after you die.

  But at this moment, Jessica prayed. She put every ounce of her energy and her soul in her words.

  “Dear Lord, he is a good boy, such a good boy. I don't know why you're taking him now, but I'm praying to you, begging, that if there is a heaven, bring him there. His heart is good, solid, and I want you to take care of him. Bring him peace. Even if it means sacrificing my own place in your kingdom, give it to him. Please.”

  The rise and fall of his chest ceased.

  Then, a miracle. A terrible miracle.

  * * * *

  Tamael slipped the helmet over her head. Beside her, Yehppael bristled with anticipation. He was excited and scared, she could tell. Sad, too. Very much so.

  She reached up and touched his face. So brave he was.

  “Everything set,” Iopol said over the radio.

  “Very well. On my mark. As always, may He bless your swords.”

  “And may He bless yours,” Yehppael whispered beside her. His wing wrapped around her for a moment.

  “Go,” she roared, unleashing a deafening fire on her pre-marked space. Around her, the others did the same, filling the room with smoke and dust. The ceiling of the human level immediately collapsed in on them, landing in a pile of rubble in the center of the room; followed quickly by the shelves and books, thundering like the anger of God.

  Tamael's heart filled with the now-familiar battle rage. It tore at her chest, as if it wanted to break out and fight. Each of the angel levels all the way up to the main entrance had a center flyway and three more on the sides. Tamael and Yehppael took the center with the others at the sides. They shot upwards as fast as they could fly, strafing the rooms of books as they went.

  The rooms were empty as expected. If there was to be resistance, it would be in the main entranceway and the Sphere room above. Indigo and Dave flew close behind, their periscepters held at the ready for each of them.

  They burst into the main room, filling it with fire. A single Dahhak stood frozen by the exit, astonished at the sudden appearance of forty angels behind him, when he was supposed to be keeping trespassers from the outside coming in. Tamael cut him down before he could even react.

  The great mosaic of the Seraph was surprising
ly kept intact. The occupied forces had systematically destroyed most of the artwork on the exterior of the city. The white dragon sparkled, its ruby eyes polished to a piercing sheen. She could feel and smell the reverence from the other angels around her.

  Tamael led the charge herself, bursting into the room of the Sphere. From behind, more fire rang out. The demons guarding the outside of the Tower were coming in. The shouting of the vociferous demon language rose, but it was quickly quelled.

  Tamael rose into the room, the four pillars the same as she recalled, the mighty Sphere dominating the chamber. It somehow seemed smaller than she remembered, but still mighty indeed. The room appeared to be empty, which was strange. They surely must know what this was, and just a few guards below was a pitiful defense for something so important.

  The wall behind her exploded in chips of fire and marble. Her side burned, the blast almost cutting through her armor. She jumped and rolled, then jumped up into the air, searching for the threat. Another blast came, this time from behind her, blowing apart something hidden up against the pillar. There were automatic defenses. Yehppael had destroyed one of them.

  Other guns were powering up, turning toward them. Tamael's hands were heavy as she began picking them off. About fifty of them littered the ceiling, a few more on tripods cemented to the floor. At first she thought perhaps there was something wrong with the guns, as they had reacted to her entrance too slowly. But they had been aimed for the entrance above the room. Mercifully, the guns seemed to be calibrated so they wouldn't hit the Sphere.

  Despite her speed and Yehppael's accuracy, there were too many of the heavy guns. She dove behind a pillar, screaming for the others not to come into the room yet. Yehppael was beside her, screaming the same. The angels didn't hear or didn't heed the warning. The angels came.

  Ching ching ching ching, the guns rang, like two heavy swords clashing together impossibly fast, cutting the angels down. She cried out as angel after angel was cut down like lengths of grass before a scythe. Both the Powers Yehppael had brought with him burned to grain as she watched hopelessly.

  But some managed to fight back. She cringed every time the soft thunk of an angel blast ricocheted off the Sphere. Soon the guns were destroyed.