Tim Marquitz - Armageddon Bound

I had to give him credit. Weakened by his efforts to control the supercharged Glorius for nearly a week, he had to have known he couldn’t win, yet he still stood his ground. There was a lot of brass still left in his sack. The lines drawn, he got to it. He leapt at the duke. Forcalor met him halfway. They clashed together like two wrecking balls colliding in midair. A resounding boom accompanied their battle, flashes of light and dark exploded intermittently. The chamber rumbled as the two went at it, paintings falling to the floor, Lucifer’s books and personal items falling from their perches. Gusts of wind were whipped up in their wake, their lashing tongues battering everything and everyone in the room.

I looked to Asmoday and saw he’d gathered his courage at last, using Gabriel’s fight as cover. Headed toward Glorius, he fought the gale-force winds that slowed his progress while the angel continued his struggle against the neutralizing manacles. From where I sat, he wouldn’t be free in time to escape Asmoday. That was a shame.

I sighed, though difficult to draw breath through the windstorm, and looked back to the battle content to watch at least one of the bastards die for what they’d done. Covered in yellowish-gold blood, Gabriel was being manhandled, his expended state no match for the duke who’d come to the fight fresh and prepared. It was clear Gabriel had little time left. That didn’t stop him from going all out. He held nothing back as he let loose blast after blast, only to have Forcalor bat each aside and return a dozen of his own, which crashed through the archangel’s defenses.

At last, Gabriel fell beneath the onslaught. As he crumpled to the floor, the hurricane winds died off and the room descended into silence. Much to Asmoday’s obvious relief, the duke ignored him and strode to Gabriel’s side. He lifted the limp archangel, cradling him in his arms, then turned to face me.

“Our deal is done, young Trigg. Make the best of it.” Without waiting for a reply, a shimmering shadow engulfed him. When it faded, both the duke and Gabriel were gone.

With nothing left to do but watch Asmoday bring about the start of Armageddon, I rolled my head his direction. He’d just reached Glorius, still casting furtive glances over his shoulder, the wind no longer Page 284 impeding his progress. The angel growled and hissed at him, the chains still just enough to hold him in place. Asmoday smiled wide in satisfaction of that fact as he turned back to smirk at me, confidence etched on his face.

“Your hand was well played, Triggaltheron, but as you can see, it wasn’t enough. You should have joined me. It would have saved you all this needless grief.” He gestured about the room, to Katon and Scarlett. “You could have been a king in the new world, but you chose to fight the inevitable. So now, there’s nothing left but for you to sit back and watch as it all comes to an end.”

Asmoday clenched his hands together as what power he had left gathered about them, his fists glowing with white hot light. His eyes sparkled with energy and malevolence.

Exhausted in body and spirit, I did as he suggested and leaned back as comfortably as I could. If the world was gonna end, at least I had a backstage pass. What more could I ask for?

“Never were there more ironic words spoken, old friend.”

Asmoday frantically spun about to see Baalth standing behind him. I’m not sure who was more shocked, him or me. I’m gonna have to go with Asmoday as he was the one facing down the deep barrels of my two stolen weapons.

Marcus and Poe stood at Baalth’s side, guns leveled at Asmoday. They didn’t wait for him to recover. Merciless, both guns roared to life, driving Asmoday back under a hail of deadly fire. The demon screeched, the bullets ripping into his flesh as he did his damndest to avoid them. After being pressed back about thirty feet, Poe and Marcus stopped firing just as Asmoday managed to conjure a shield. His face and chest were covered in boiling, black blood that poured from his wounds. He glared at Baalth and his cronies, unable to do more. If looks could kill, Asmoday wouldn’t have needed Glorius to destroy the world. Baalth only smiled in return, his cultured face looking as though this were just another day at the office. To him, I guess it was.

Too battered to do anything else, I watched as Page 286

Baalth strolled forward and stood over Glorius.

“It seems a pity to let all this time and effort go to waste.”

He tinkered with the manacles while Glorius stared up at him in wary rigidness. Asmoday looked much the same. The collective breaths in the room were stilled, silent.

“What’s that saying? Waste not, want not?”

Baalth’s smile grew wider as his hand burst into reddish-orange flame. Without hesitation he drove his burning fist into Glorius’s chest, smashing his way through the angel’s ribs, golden blood spraying up like a busted fountainhead. Glorius bucked against the chains, unable to fight back. His eyes were filled with pain and terror in equal amounts. His voice squawked, unable to do much else, his throat far too ravaged to scream as Baalth dug around inside his chest cavity. After an agonizing moment, he stilled as Baalth must have seized his heart. I saw the muscles of Baalth’s forearm tightened as he bore down. Under the pressure, Glorius twitched his last and died. His head dropped, his sightless eyes gazing up toward Heaven. He wouldn’t find any peace there.

Asmoday went white, his legs wobbling, nearly failing. He inched backward, but Poe waggled a finger at him, pushing his gun out slightly. Marcus reinforced the threat by taking a step forward, making a show of aiming his gun at Asmoday’s head. The demon froze.

He knew the jig was up.

Behind his gun-toting goons, Baalth pulled his dripping hand from Glorius’s chest and looked up at Asmoday. A subtle grin played across his lips. A second later, I saw his eyes roll back and a wave of pleasure washed across his face. He dropped to his knees in the throes of a soul transfer so fierce none of the rest of us could ever hope to fathom its depth. If I’d had the energy to cry, I’d have let loose like a bawling baby. Despite all the suffering and sacrifices we’d endured to stop Asmoday from gathering enough power to bring about Armageddon, I never once imagined Baalth would arrive at the last minute and steal victory out from underneath all of our noses. In but a few seconds, he had altered the status quo of existence. And all in his favor, go figure. Uncertain of what it all meant in the grand scheme of things, Baalth a far cry from the kind of demon Asmoday was, I could only wait and see where things went. It’s not like I could stop him. In the end, I guess it didn’t matter all that much anymore. No matter what happened, I was still bent over the barrel like all the rest of the grunts. I was out of this fight. Resigned to being a helpless voyeur, I turned my focus back to Baalth as the transfer neared its end. Baalth rose to his feet, his tanned face flush with excitement. I didn’t even need to extend my senses to feel the power that emanated from him. It wafted Page 288 off in thick waves. I could feel it almost like a physical presence. I watched his eyes glisten as he glanced around the room, perhaps seeing it in a way none of the rest could. He exuded a confidence I’d never seen in anyone, save for Lucifer. In one fell swoop, Baalth had realized his dreams. There was no doubt he’d become the new Satan. Only now, there was no God to rein him in. We were in for a wild ride.

Baalth smiled at me with surprising warmth before turning to confront Asmoday, his face cold. He stepped past his flunkies and moved to within feet of his once fellow lieutenant.

“I have to hand it to you, Asmoday, this was quite a scheme.” He gestured to the room with his hand still stained in Glorius’s blood. “Did you truly think you’d get away with it?”