Stuart Slade - Pantheocide

“Then we would have made the transition from Yahweh’s rule to whatever comes next as hard and as messy as possible. We’d have made sure whoever was in charge got all the blame and in the end one of us would have come in as a savior and put everything right.” Michael glanced over his shoulder. “They’re coming, everybody look penitent.”

“Michael-Lan. You say you have an estate out in the countryside?” General Petraeus wasn’t in any doubt about that.

“I do.”

“Take me there. I wish to see this Azrael you mentioned.”

“Would you like me to carry you? It would be no burden.”

“You lead the way, We’ll follow you in the Osprey. Once there, you stay there until we’ve finished sorting your case out.”

“My nightclub.” There was genuine pain and anguish in Michael’s voice. “I have to run my nightclub.”

“Sucks to be you. The same applies to the rest of you. Go to your country estates, stay there. Consider yourselves exiled from The Eternal City until we say otherwise.”

“Sir.” Leilah spoke diffidently, something quite at odds with the costume she was wearing. “I don’t have a country estate.”

“Leilah is only recently raised to the status of Chayot Ha Kodesh,” Michael explained. “She was Erelim before and only Chayot Ha Kodesh have country estates. Because of how fast things have happened, her estate was never awarded to her.”

Petraeus nodded. “Leilah, you run Michael’s nightclub for him. You are allowed to fly to his estate to consult with him on doing that. You may also fly to the others here to meet with them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. And thank you.”

“Is that wise David?” General Ti spoke very quietly.

“Somebody will be carrying messages, we might as well know who.”

Michael’s Palace, Aukumea, Heaven

The palace reminded Petraeus of a Greek temple. It was large of course, scaled to Michael’s size, but it was pristine white. It was unmarred by the displays of precious stones that were already becoming tasteless and jaded to Petraeus’s eyes. Just a large, perfectly-proportioned and perfectly-maintained Greek temple. It was, Patraeus reflected, the first really elegant building he had seen in Heaven. As his V-22 came in to land on the green lawns, he saw the staff running out to welcome Michael home. To his surprise, the humans seemed as enthusiastic as the angels.

“Welcome to Aukumea, General.” The accent was distinctively American.

“And you are?”

“Doctor David Gunn. Michael’s personal physician.”

“That name is familiar.”

“I was killed a few years back. Shot outside a women’s health clinic. My nurses here, Lee-Ann Nichols and Shannon Lowney were also killed in health clinic shootings. Michael rescued us from Hell and brought us here. Michael says you want to see Azrael?”

“Yes, please.” Petraeus hesitated, then spoke awkwardly. “Doctor Gunn, it’s good to know things worked out all right for you three in the end.”

“Thanks to Michael, yes. And not just for us. In the years before the war started, he spent a lot of his time rescuing humans from Hell. Took a lot of risks doing it as well. Anyway, come with me and I’ll show you the patients.”

Damn, that’s just what we needed. Petraeus thought. Michael turning out to be some sort of Heavenly Schindler. The silver-blooded Pimpernel already. “Doctor, what’s the mound over there?”

Gunn laughed. “That is, or rather was, Fluffy. Better known to you as the Scarlet Beast. Disgusting creature, never was properly house-trained. His rider is here as well, very sad case I’m afraid.”

“So it is dead. We didn’t know back on Earth. We knew we’d hurt it, that was all. And we were still waiting for the Lamb Beast and the Dragon.”

Gunn’s laughter redoubled. “You hadn’t worked it out then. The Lamb Beast, speaks with the gentleness of a lamb but fights like a dragon? That’s Michael. And the ultra-powerful Dragon is, or was, Yahweh himself.”

“Doctor, honest question from a soldier to a physician. Where do you stand in all this.”

“I’m a doctor, I fix the wounded and sick. If you have any, feel free to bring them to me. Michael saved me from Hell, saved my nurses and every human I know up here. And he’s a likeable guy, arrogant as they come of course and conceited like only an angel can be. But he has a lot of charisma and he inspires loyalty in people. Don’t know why because the truth is, he doesn’t return it. But, he does inspire it. But for all that, I’m human. A doctor first and then human. That answer your question?”

Petraeus wasn’t sure that he did but he nodded anyway.

Gunn opened a door and led him into a clean, aseptic wing of the palace. On one bed was a figure, one that had a glorious mane of red hair spread out around her. She would have been as stunningly beautiful as the rest of the angels were it not for the vacant expression on her face and the tongue hanging out of her mouth. “This is Dumah, General. She rode the Scarlet Beast. I don’t know what you did to her down there but she has massive brain damage. Vital functions are stable, but her coma is probably irrecoverable. Michael is having me look after her until she either dies or recovers.”

He led Petraeus to another room. “This is Azrael. Massive fragmentation wounds from missile warheads, recovery very slow. He doesn’t know Yahweh is dead yet. Azrael, a human visitor for you.”

“Azrael, the nuclear attacks on our cities.”

The voice from the wounded angel was slow and gasping. “So? We are at war.”

“You organized them? Did Michael know?”

“Know? Him? Of course not. He is a traitor. He refused to push the war home against you. It was left to me. If my plan had worked, I could have replaced him. My human failed me. But Michael betrayed Yahweh and me.” Azrael burst into a fit of coughing. “Leave me human, you tire me.”

Michael’s Palace, Aukumea, Heaven. Six weeks later.

The problem with staging a coup is what does one do afterwards? After centuries of plotting and planning, not to mention the last three years of frantic activity, the work was over. Yahweh was gone, a new leadership was in power, the war with the humans was over and the Angelic Host had survived. More than survived, if the experience of the last few days was anything to go by, it would prosper under its new rulers. The problem was that the situation had left Michael-Lan nothing to do. How much of a problem that was had become obvious when, in the half-aware period between sleep and wakening, he had started to plot against himself.

The humans had made it worse for him. Aukumea might still be described as his palace but the truth was he was imprisoned here. Just as the rest of his inner circle were imprisoned on their estates. Only Leilah had anything like freedom of movement and Michael knew she was being very carefully watched. The truth was, and Michael knew it very well, that the humans hadn’t decided what to do with him. His position as a defeated General was well-established and his links to the more atrocious of his acts had all been carefully severed or buried. Mostly both. If the humans ever found the bottom of the lake by Yahweh’s Palace, they would discover things down there that Michael wanted kept secret. On the other hand, his credentials as a benefactor were well-established and carefully over-elaborated. He had saved humans from torment, well-regarded ones whose reputation back on Earth had survived and rubbed off on the Archangel who had saved them from the flames of Hell. He had treated all his humans well and they had reciprocated by speaking well of him when they had been interviewed. What would happen next was out of his control and Michael suspected the humans would be driven more by their own internal political dynamics than any wishes he might have.