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“How did you find him?”
Samael takes a Malediction from a silver case and offers me one. I take it. I get out Mason’s lighter and spark our cigarettes.
“I’m the bad angel, remember? I hurt people until someone told me where he was,” Samael replies.
“Welcome back, Lord Lucifer,” says Merihim.
I get closer and blow smoke in his face.
“You know, I didn’t like the ‘Lord’ thing when I was Lucifer, but now it’s growing on me. How’s destroying the universe going? It looks like you started with your clothes.”
He closes his eyes for a long few seconds, then opens them again.
“I thought you were better than this one,” says Merihim, glancing at Samael. “But you’re just alike. Naughty children. You once mistook your mischief for rebellion. Now you mistake it for bravery. Stand with this fool and you’re going to die, Stark. The longer you fight us, the worse your death will be.”
“Let’s have a show of hands. Who isn’t chained to the floor?”
Samael and I both raise our hands. Merihim rattles his chains.
“That’s exactly the kind of empty gesture I was talking about. You run off to Earth, fight a ghost here, a demon there, and you think you’ve saved the world. This one tracks me down and thinks he’s saving his dear addled father. Neither of you
can admit that what’s coming cannot be stopped.”
“I’ll stop the Angra,” I say.
“No you won’t and you know it. The game is too far along. Death is coming. We’re all going to die at the hands of the old Gods. The only question is how your death will come. Those of us who brought them home will die quickly and easily. While those who fought on the side of the beast in Heaven will die over aeons in unimaginable pain.”
“You watched The Exorcist a lot when you were a kid, didn’t you? You’ve got the whole spooky ‘hail, Satan’ patter down cold.”
“Don’t talk like a fool,” Merihim shouts, rattling his chains loud enough to get the hellhounds growling. “You sound like Samael, the spoiled son, when you do that. Listen to me, Stark. You don’t have to play the brave soldier anymore. That time is over. You’re more on my side than his. You always have been. I know you have the Mithras hidden away. You could have burned the universe on your own, and you came close a few times, didn’t you? Admit it. You hate this place. This universe that calls you Abomination. But you’re not the Abomination. It’s God. All the pain there ever was he started by exiling the Angra. He invented our doom that day. And he compounded the torment for creatures like you and me and even Samael, the fool, by exiling us in Hell. You owe angels and mad Gods nothing. The Angra will embrace you as a brother.”
“And then they’ll kill me.”
“Death is our only release.”
“I was just thinking about that. You know the one good thing about Mason Faim being back on Earth?”
“What?”
“There’s a vacancy in Tartarus.”
I pull out the Colt and shoot Merihim right between his bloodshot eyes. The Spiritus Dei–coated bullet blows the back of his stupid Hellion head apart. The hellhounds howl and paw the floor with their metal claws, tearing up stone and mortar.
“Did that feel good?” says Samael.
“Yeah. It did. Why don’t you come back to L.A. with me? There’s lots more people to shoot and I could use the help.”
Samael smiles and crushes his cigarette with the toe of his perfect shoe.
“Before tonight I would have said yes. But with Nefesh’s murder and Chaya’s impending breakdown, I need to stay here and protect Father.”
“You mean Muninn, right? ’Cause I think we could get along without the other one.”
Samael lets out a long breath.
“That’s the problem. They’re both my father. And people say stupid things when they’re scared. But I won’t let Ruach or Angra scum win. Do you want my advice on dealing with Mason Faim?”
“Anything you’ve got.”
