by Ramy Vance
The centaurs dropped us into the middle of the room, where Daniel stood with his back to us. “Leave us,” he said, and the centaurs snorted before stomping away.
Alone, Jean looked up at the angel. “You know, we’re not really into this. I mean, you’re cute, but we’re both in committed relationships and you’re kind of a dick, so …”
“Always with the jokes,” he said, his voice droning as he spoke. “Jokes used as shields to hide from your fear. But one such as you, Jean-Luc Matthias, should not hide from your fear. You should embrace it.”
The angel turned, and his eyes went solid black. I’m not talking like someone tattooed his eyeballs with black ink. This was more of a let’s-replace-my-eyeballs-with-the-empty-void-of-night kind of black.
Daniel’s eyes widened as he swayed his head between us, staring at Jean and me. It wasn’t so much the way he was looking at us, but the way he wasn’t looking at us that bothered me. It was as if he was looking through us to see what was behind us.
No, that wasn’t right either. It was as if he was using us as a filter to see what he needed to see. Like 3D-movie glasses, we were what brought whatever he was searching for into focus.
But that wasn’t the strangest bit. The truly weird thing was that he was clearly not using magic to do whatever he was doing, but he showed some signs of burning time.
Jean must have noticed that, too, because he looked at his Mickey Mouse watch and counted in his head before whispering, “My watch isn’t speeding up.”
So this angel wasn’t burning time, which mean he was doing his “thing.”
Some Others have a “thing.” An ability that is innate and part of their being. Things can vary, but generally go by time. Take the ly erg as an example. I met one of those fae soldiers a few weeks back and learned that ly ergs can use their dying breath to grant them a single wish (as long as the dying breath was taken on the battlefield).
Not all Others have a thing, but if they do, it tends to be along species’ lines. But angels are different; each angel had their own thing. And that thing was directly associated with whatever purpose they were created to fulfill.
And Daniel was doing his thing. Trouble was, I didn’t know what his thing was.
After a few minutes of him staring at us with two black pits, he smirked before his eyes returned to normal. “Good,” he said with a smile.
Jean, who was rattled like I was, said, “What the hell was that? Did you just black-hole-sun us?”
“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I said. “But whatever he did do is his thing, isn’t it? And given that things are related to purpose, and your purpose for being is clearly to be an asshole, I’m guessing you just created a list of cutting insults to bore us with.”
“Actually,” Daniel began, leaning in close. The void was gone, and normal eyes stared down at me. “I just wanted to make sure you two were a part of it.”
“A part of what?” Jean asked.
“Why, the end, of course. I saw The End of Everything and both of you were there.”
SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD
“When God made me, He imbued my very essence with the ability to see the end, then He asked me to find all who would be there and make sure that those who are a part of the end will be present for the final moments in time. I can look into the hearts and souls of humans and know who will be there at the last moment of all. And I see both of you there,” Daniel said, clapping his hands together. “Oh, happy days. Happy, happy days.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To help usher in the apocalypse? What about worshipping the Three Who Are One?”
“Bah, humbug. Those faithless fools outside run around hoping, praying that the return of Baldr, Quetzalcoatl and Izanami will also mean the return of their immortality.” He spat out the dead gods’ names like he was spitting out sand. “They do not understand what Three Who Are One’s true purpose is. They return to fulfill God’s final wish: to end it all.” Daniel’s eyes lit up as he rose to his feet and began pacing the marquee with rapid, excited steps.
“But I wasn’t sure if they would actually be the end. After all, so much has changed since the gods left and I wasn’t entirely sure the old prophesies would come true. After all, it is by God’s decree that human hands will be instrumental to ending it all. But no humans were on the island, and I grew fearful that I would have to suffer this world even longer.” He wiped away imagined dirt from his left shoulder.
“But when I heard two humans were on the island, my heart swelled with hope.” More light-filled tears swelled in eyes that, only moments ago, had been impossibly dark. “That is why I commanded that you two be unharmed and brought to me. I needed to see you both for myself, see if I could find confirmation in your presence and … and I have. You both shall be part of the end.” He clapped his hands together, raising them to the sky, his once-caught tears painting streams of light down his cheeks. “The end is near. Finally, God’s command will be fulfilled.”
Something didn’t make sense, and as much as I knew not to question the crazed, homicidal killer during the middle of a crying fit, I couldn’t help myself. “Aren’t the Heralds human?” I asked. “I mean, couldn’t you do your whole black, dead-eyed trick on them to see if this was the end?”
Daniel cocked his head to one side as if truly confused by my question. That, or he simply couldn’t believe I was so ignorant. “They are prophets,” he said, like that explained everything.
“So?” I gestured for him to go on.
“Prophets are more human than human. That is the gift of being touched by divinity. It makes them …”—he paused as he searched for the word—“immune to one such as me.”
So that’s why he didn’t kill us. He thinks we’re a part of the apocalypse. Or that the apocalypse needs a couple humans around at the end. Potatoes, po-tah-toes, I suppose. Either way, he believes that humans need to be present at the end.
I thought about the army of Others battling on the beaches of this Okinawan island. They were fighting for a new beginning. Granted, that new beginning included three egotistical, evil gods, but given all they’d endured these last four years, could you blame them? If these gods turned out to be a mistake, then they were simply trading one shitty life for another. I was pretty sure that was the definition of “nothing to lose.”
But they were fighting for life. Fighting for a better tomorrow. None of them knew that this asshole of an angel was using them to fight for no tomorrow at all. It was never about finding new gods or regaining his immortality.
It was about fulfilling what Daniel believed to be God’s final wish: to end everything.
To end everything, I mused. It must be strange to want to destroy everything you’ve built, even for a god. But if that’s what you wanted, you’d think you’d want to do it yourself, right? Build it with your hands, end it with your hands—that kind of thing. I just don’t get it. If God really wanted this to all go away, and He’s all powerful, then why not end it all when He left? I thought, and from the way both Jean and Daniel turned to look at me, it had been out loud.
“He, in His divine wisdom, ordained that you humans have a chance to get your eternal souls in order before the end. His mercy has given you all one last chance at salvation. One last chance to prove yourself worthy before the end of all.”
“And how exactly did He do that?”
“Those who faithfully, unwaveringly worshipped Him after His departure will be rewarded with life eternal,” Daniel said.
“Like you?” Jean cut in.
“Like me,” Daniel said, his face glowing with the fervor of one who truly believed he was saved.
↔
“SO”—JEAN turned to me—“seems like we’re a part of the end.”
“Well, my mother always said I would be the death of her. I guess what she meant to say was that I’d be the death of everyone, including her.”
Jean chuckled before shaking his head. “I don’t know. I mean,
this guy talks a big game, but somehow I just don’t know. If God wanted to end everything, He would have ended everything. Why get three second-rate gods to do His dirty work for Him? Why go through all this drama of leaving, but not really leaving, just to see who will remain faithful? A lot of wishful thinking …”
I nodded in agreement. “If wishes were horses and all that jazz,” I said, looking Daniel straight in the eye. “And have you considered that your first concern might have been the right one? You weren’t sure if old prophesies still held. Maybe ‘old angel things’ don’t hold, either. Two wrongs don’t make a right; two wrongs just make you more wrong.”
I didn’t know if this was us goading him into making a mistake, or just letting off some steam, but either way, if felt good to kick this guy in the ribs … metaphorically speaking.
“And what’s more, I spoke to those three gods,” I said. “When I was in the museum, I spoke to them. And other than being total jerks, do you know what they have in common? None of them believe that they’re ending anything. They all believe that once they resurrect themselves, they will rule over this world unchallenged. Forever. I’ve been hearing a lot of apocalypse chatter—and not just from you, Daniel—and I find it all hard to believe. Vague prophesies aside, what do you know that they don’t? Dead or not, they are, after all, gods. And you’re just an angel.”
Daniel was rattled, his joy replaced by a slow, simmering anger. “God made me in the beginning and the first words He spoke to me were to tell me that I would be present at the end. That I, of all the angels, would be instrumental in ushering in His will. Then He kissed my forehead and I felt a divine love unlike—”
“—anything you’ve felt before or since,” I said. “Or maybe you were going for, ‘unlike anything you humans are capable of feeling.’ We get it. But herein lies the rub, dear Daniel: He left. That was the ‘end’ He was talking about … His departure. And guess what? You were here to witness it. You are here witnessing it right now.”
I tried to get to my feet as I drilled my words into the angel, soaking them with as much anger as I felt in my still soul-less body. I knew I was pushing him to the edge, going beyond the point of angering him so he’d make a mistake and we could escape.
I was pushing him to kill me. And I didn’t care.
“But the end isn’t some dramatic event with trumpeting horns and broken seals,” I spat. “No, this end is the slow-burning, perpetual dying that comes with mortality. That’s how He’s ending it. Ended it. He kept His promise to you when He left you behind. Tell me, did He say anything about you surviving the end? I don’t think so. If He did, you would still be in Heaven—”
“Enough!” Daniel screamed, pulling out his sword and grabbing me by my neck. He placed his blade against my throat; he only needed to apply a bit of pressure and slice to one side and I’d be done. Then, so much for me being a part of the end. Would my death be enough to ruin the apocalypse? Probably not, but if there was a one-percent chance of stopping it if I stopped breathing, then I had to take it.
But Daniel didn’t slit my throat. Instead he rubbed a grubby, sweat-filled hand over my face before dropping me to the ground. “Enough,” he whispered. “Enough. This is the end. I have faith that it is, and I will not allow one such as you to fill my heart with doubt. I cannot—”
There was a bray at the tent’s entrance. “Hosea, he is speaking.”
“Oh good,” Daniel said, not breaking his furious eye contact with me. “Let’s go see what our gods have to say, shall we?”
THEY DON’T MAKE PROPHETS LIKE THEY USED TO
We were dragged out of the tent and put in front of Hosea, who swayed back and forth just like he had when I’d first seen him in the izakaya. He was murmuring something in a low tone as Gomer sat next to him, eyes closed, not saying or doing anything. Made me wonder why they kept Gomer around, if all he did was … nothing.
Hosea’s low hum turned into a high-pitched squeal as his face contorted in pain. He dug his fingers into his forehead, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to dig into his brain. Thin streams of blood ran down, and as if that wasn’t gross enough, he clawed downward, digging eight crimson-colored streams down his face.
Then he stopped moving as if he hadn’t just given himself a Freddy Krueger makeover.
Gomer began to speak. “The time draws near,” he said, his voice distorted and inhuman. “Soon our powers will be great enough to break free of this place and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Really, Daniel—this is what you brought us out to hear? ‘Time draws near …’ ‘Soon, our powers …’ These lines are out of a b-movie, at best. You’d think after millions of years, you’d learn to avoid the clichés and come up with something original—”
My mini-rant was abruptly cut off by Gomer, who opened his eyes and looked at me. Recognition came over his face, but not because he was remembering me from earlier … it was like he actually knew me. Like we were two long-lost friends accidently meeting up in the middle of Times Square.
But any friendliness was short-lived, as Gomer’s face filled with hatred and he cried out, “You brought her here? Fools. Kill her. Now. Now. Now.” Gomer repeated the word over and over again, and from the way he cried out, I knew he wasn’t going to stop until either he was dead, or I was. So it seemed that Gomer did do stuff … like ordering my execution. And given I was hogtied and on my knees, I was guessing me dead was more likely.
One of the centaurs who had tied us up charged forward without hesitation and unsheathed his sword. They were getting ready to run me down and given the position I was in, there was literally nothing I could do.
“No!” cried Daniel. I guessed the apocalypse hadn’t started in earnest and he needed me around a wee bit longer to help usher in the end.
But any power Daniel had was nothing compared to the authority their nutbar of a prophet had, and neither centaur slowed down.
“Oh hell no,” Jean said, before clamping down hard with his teeth. Then he lunged forward, knocking me down just in time for the centaur’s blade to fly over us.
Jean had saved me, but for what? So I could live another minute or so? I waited as I heard the centaur turning for another pass at me, while Gomer’s cries continued to fill the air, accented by the clicking of hooves that sounded more like the ticking of a clock counting down the last seconds of my life.
The centaur stood above us, getting ready to drive his sword through both our bodies.
“No,” Daniel said. “Just the girl.” He spoke like just killing me was the lesser of two evils.
How chivalrous, I thought as the centaur reached down and pulled Jean off me.
“Bastards. God damned bastard,” Jean spat, and given that there was no quip, no ill-timed joke, I knew I was a goner.
To Jean’s credit, he struggled against the beast, but in the end, the half-horse, half-man threw him off me with all the exertion necessary to fling a sack of potatoes. Jean went tumbling away.
So this is how it ends for me, I thought, and readied myself for the nothing that would come after.
↔
WHEN I WAS A YOUNG GIRL, my mother—who was a God fearing, church-going Christian back then—told me that I had a guardian angel watching over me. I believed that until the day I was turned into a vampire. After that, I chalked up concepts like “guardian angels” and “divine intervention” to superstitions held by people too weak to save themselves. In other words, my mother was wrong.
Dead wrong.
But it seemed I was the one who was wrong, because just before the centaur could drive his blade through me, dozens of mokumokuren appeared. And not just mokumokuren … the futakuchi-onna from the plane, the three specter salarymen from the izakaya and dozens of other half-dead, ghostly Others.
Gabriel—my guardian angel—and his half-dead army had shown up to save me.
And save me they did. From the centaur at least, because although the ghosts weren’t corporeal in any meaningful punch
-you-in-the-face-with-a-solid-fist kind of way, they served up one hell of distraction.
The horse part of the centaur took hold; the mythical beast reared up on his hind legs as he tried to swat away the floating eyeballs.
Daniel lunged toward me, but before he could get within striking range, Gabriel manifested. Except it wasn’t him, it was a projection, a hologram (not that magic needs a scientific explanation). The real Gabriel was still nailed to a cross and from the grimaced expression on this hologram, he was still in a hell of a lot of pain.
Seeing the archangel, Daniel dropped to his knees. “Gabriel,” he said. “You’re dead. I saw you die. I—”
Gabriel lifted a silencing hand and spoke six words to Daniel. Six words that stopped the angel dead in his tracks. “Father would not have wanted this.”
Hearing those words from Gabriel must have been like being hit by a truck, because Daniel half-crumpled and shook his head as streams of light fell from his eyes. “I was only doing His will … I was only doing His will.”
Devastated, babbling angels aside, there were other dangers to contend with. Specifically, prophets.
If Hosea and Gomer had noticed the ghostly Others, they made no show of it. Their eyes were intently focused on me as they crossed their arms against their chests.
I heard a familiar rumbling. They were summoning their nio and shisa warriors, but at least this time I understood what was happening, and seeing my chance, I got up on my bound feet and did the only thing I could think of doing: I hopped over to Gomer and head-butted him hard enough to knock him out.
Hosea was backing away from me, his murmuring continuing as the thunderous rampage of the stone guardians grew louder. I saw the first of the approaching army crash through the hotel’s front door as I hobbled toward the summoning prophet. But Hosea kept backing away and I knew that I wasn’t going to make it in time to stop him.