“This is what happens when you don’t discipline earthly trash regularly. That was supposed to be your job. Wasn’t it, Muninn? But you hid in your cave, playing with your toys while mortal vermin ran wild over the world.”
“Calm down,” says Muninn.
“I won’t. Nefesh is dead because of you. You doted on humans and coddled an Abomination. Nefesh is dead and Ruach will finish us all.”
Muninn gets up. I’ve seen this kind of family square dance before. One parent tries to talk the other one down and it just makes the batshit one even crazier.
Muninn says, “Let’s talk this over in private.”
“Look at you. Taking this monster’s side over your own brother’s. Maybe I should have stayed with Ruach. Maybe I should go back. He’d gladly accept me as an ally against you, the family traitor.”
Light flares up in the room. I have to cover my eyes, and when I take my hand away, Samael is standing in front of Chaya with his Gladius blazing.
“Do you recognize this, old man?” he says. “It almost laid you low once. You’re not half the power you were in the old days. Should we test that with a rematch?”
“Samael,” says Muninn. “Stop it.”
Samael keeps the Gladius blazing for a few seconds before letting it go out. Chaya leaves without saying a word.
“You should go and apologize,” says Muninn.
“Among the many things I should do, that’s at the bottom of the list.”
Muninn runs a hand through his hair.
“The two of you are making me old faster than Ruach and Chaya combined.”
“Listen,” I say. “I’m sorry to stomp into the middle of this Hatfields and McCoys thing you have going with yourself, but you were saying something about how I could play the game with Mason.”
Muninn looks at me like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I can’t tell if he’s distracted by the fight or getting slow as he gets weak. Then his eyes focus and he nods.
“You can’t beat Mason, but maybe you can play him to a draw. Win a few small victories here and there. With that, you might get enough information that you won’t need it all. Bring me whatever you find and we’ll see what we can do with it.”
“And how am I supposed to win these small victories?”
“Don’t fight him. Play with him, not at him. When you don’t understand what’s happening—”
“That’s all the time.”
“Mimic him. Move the way he does. Move for move, if you like. He’ll catch on but he won’t be able to stop you because to get you to play badly he’ll have to play badly himself and risk losing.”
“That’s not exactly the plans for D-Day.”
Muninn looks at the kitchen door like he’s expecting Chaya to come back and apologize.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “As you can see, there are a few things going on here too. I’ve given you all I can for now.”
“Thanks. It’s more than I had when I got here.”
“Now I really think it would be a good idea if you left. I’m going to see if I can calm Chaya down.”
“I’ll see you around, Mr. Muninn. Sorry again about Nefesh.”
He walks out like he didn’t even hear me.
“Let him go,” says Samael. “Neither one of us can help him fight himself. I hate all this talk about brothers. It just covers up the fact that Father is slowly killing himself.”
“You think he’s going to make it?”
“I don’t know. I just hope that a piece survives and that it’s not Chaya.”
“Maybe I should get out of here before he changes his mind and reincarnates me as a tapeworm or something.”
“Don’t be so glum.”
“What should I be? Candy’s in jail. Muninn is coming apart. The Shonin is poisoning himself. Wells is busy corralling chop-shop corpses. And Mason has me thumb-wrestling scorpions. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m losing. We’re all losing. Muninn and you and all the good little angels in Hell and Heaven.”
“Take a walk with me,” says Samael. “You haven’t seen much of the palace since you gave up the throne. The hellhounds miss you.”
He goes to the elevator and I follow him.
“I think I could use some hellhounds in L.A. before all this is over.”
The elevator doors open and we get in. He touches the brass plate and we start down.
“Take a few,” Samael says. “Take them all. You taught them to love you. They’ll follow you anywhere.”
The elevator shudders to a halt underground. The door opens to the unmistakable machine-lube-and-raw-meat smell of the kennels. But there’s a faint trace of something else too.
Hellhounds are clockwork dire-wolf-size war dogs, run by a brain suspended in a glass globe where their heads should be. They’re smart and deadly and, like all dogs, loyal to their master, which they still think is me. I roofied them a few months back when some of Hell’s legions were seriously contemplating my demise. The addled dogs imprinted on me and even those hard-core Hellion soldiers backed off when I strolled out of the palace surrounded by my mechanical hounds. It looks like the imprinting stayed strong. When the hounds smell me they move to the front of their cages and press their heads to the bars so I can pet them as we walk past.
Samael would never admit it, but I know he’s eating his heart out seeing his hounds so loyal to me. It’s his fault for leaving me in Hell on my own way back when. How long ago was it? Just a few months. This year, ever since I escaped from Hell, time has been like a carnival midway. Loud, twisting, and confusing. Full of dead ends and dark, empty places. I look at Samael for a second. Does he know what I’m thinking? Maybe. Not much I can do about it, off kilter like this. Anyway, pride isn’t the issue here. But I don’t think it’s hounds either.
“What are we doing here? It’s nice to see the pups, but I don’t have time to skip down memory lane.”
Samael says, “Of course you do. It just depends on what you’re skipping to.”
He leads me around a corner of the kennel to where a man is shackled to the floor. The slave collar around his neck is attached to chains with links as large as a man’s arm. They’re so heavy, the man is slumped on the floor. Samael walks over and kicks him in the ass. The man’s head jerks up like maybe he was asleep.
“Up, pest. You have company.”
The man slowly rises to his feet, the heavy chains clanging against each other. He staggers a bit when he’s up, trying to get his balance. His clothes are shredded and he’s filthy, but I’d never forget that face. It’s Merihim.
“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.”