“You never talk to me anymore.”
“Tell me where he is.”
“Do you talk to anyone?I hear that you don’t.You speak in God’s voice.You are the angel of God.Do you remember what it feels like to speak for yourself?”Then, Satan grinned wildly.“Why were you over the bridge?”
“If you don’t answer me with your next words, I’ll set your head atop a spear.The rest of your damned body will fall into the lake of fire.You will be tormented for the rest of eternity in the flames, devil.”
“Hell is my home,” said Satan, snickering, serpentine.“The fires can’t hurt me anymore, Michael.”His hand trailed, slowly.“And when Heaven falls, maybe you’ll all learn how much better it feels to burn.”The monstrance’s base was cold around his fingers as he took it, and it was heavy as Satan lifted it over his head, brought it down onto Michael’s helmet.No piercing of the silver armor — but the gold shattered, the glass-embraced Eucharist, round and the size of a palm, cracking in half and falling, made the saint shift backward.However, Michael didn’t let go, his grip deadly, unrelenting.“Fucker,” the devil hissed, smashing at Michael’s helmet a second time, each piece of the gorgeous ornament that had so tenderly cradled God’s body clanking to the floor.
“Tell me,” grunted Michael, “where he is.”
“You’re a faggot.You’re a sinner.You’ll go to Hell to be tortured no matter how much you kneel for your precious little God.You remember, don’t you?I was granted Hell because of you.”Another wheezing laugh.“Because you failed your Father.Because you could not resist me.God’s chief prince couldn’t keep his hands to himself.He couldn’t help but touch the devil and rut on him like a bitch in heat.”
“Don’t try to provoke me,” said Michael; he must’ve prepared for Satan to jab at his wounds.“Tell me where the anti-Christ is.”
“You will never find him.”
“I will destroy him as I will you.God will be victorious over evil.”
Satan huffed, bored now.“You were watching men massacre innocent people before I shot you.Is that victory over evil to you?”Though the saint’s face was hidden, the devil felt the tensing of his muscles like they were attached to his own bones.“The Lord has always been behind the worst of mankind.He has been in their mouths as they slaughter non-believers, but I have hardly ever seen it so clear—” He breathed in, shakily, body beginning to ache and burn inside beneath the prince.“How far gone you must be to not recognize it even now, even after all of humanity has shown you the depths of God’s cruelty.”
“I told you to answer me.”
“Maybe I am like you — too dense, too stupid, to answer.”Satan shut his eyes for a moment, listened to the noise outside the church, every distant man and woman, child and elder, as well as the birds, the sound of cars.“You will never find him,” he echoed.“You will succumb to me like you did when your lovely Father flooded the world.You will burn up in the hellfire that you are responsible for.”Finally, he reached into his pocket.
“You will not lead me astray.”
“How can I lead astray someone so far gone?”Satan yanked out his revolver, pressed the barrel against Michael’s helmet, held it there.“Release me.”
Michael, still, did not.“Is the anti-Christ in this church?”
“Maybe he’s buried beneath it.”
“Why do you disguise yourself as a man of God?”
“A woman of God was more difficult to be.Why have you come to the Earth?”Satan felt the cold around his neck ease up, and he heard the drag of Michael’s foot shifting backwards, surrendering.“Why were you over the river?Don’t tell me the world is ending.Is it real this time?You should have warned me.I would have dressed for the occasion.”
“The other archangels have come to the Earth,” he replied, steady, “and they are stationed in the Babylon you so love.At my word, they’ll have it destroyed.”After Satan had shot him, Michael returned to the archangels — the other princes.‘They were doing nothing, standing together over what they, the three archangels, had come to the reasonable assumption was Babylon.On the top of a skyscraper, on horseback, staring down at opulence and modernity.’They looked at Michael, and Uriel had said that he and Gabriel were not going to remain here.
‘I’m sorry,’ Raphael had said instantly, his eyes pained and lowered.There was a scattering of other angels far behind him, peppered on other high buildings, staring down in wonder, fascination, at the world they had been sent here to destroy.‘I tried to convince them to stay, Michael?—’
‘I’m going to find Dina,’ Uriel had interjected coldly.‘And Gabriel will return to Heaven.’The messenger angel had turned his shameful gaze away.‘We will not partake in this, Michael.’
‘The devil has found the anti-Christ,’ Michael had said, though he wasn’t certain, and he saw Gabriel and Raphael lift their heads swiftly while Uriel remained expressionless, stone.‘He works as a false holy man among the anti-Christ’s people.If you want to stop the apocalypse, it is too late.The devil already wields the Beast.’In the present, the prince was removing himself from Satan, looking down at him, and he said: “The angel Dina is here, too, isn’t he?Are you working with him?”
“Dina,” Satan echoed, as if he’d never heard the name.
“Uriel looks for him.”
“I see,” the devil chuckled.“What should I answer?You won’t believe my words, no matter what I say.”He tilted his face up, almost coyly.“But why would an angel work with me?Is there havoc in Heaven?”
‘You will,’ Michael had snapped at the other princes, ‘come to the anti-Christ’s stronghold when the sun grows dark.We will capture the devil and the anti-Christ, and then we will move forward with the saving of the pure.’
‘Who are the pure?’Uriel had asked.‘Who are the pure, Michael?Do you know?’
Now, Michael dismissed, “He’s nothing more than an interference, trying to do good for Uriel and for God, but he is easily manipulated.And because Babylon is the nation of sin, and you are its whore — you might have tempted him, as you tempt everyone.”
Giggling — “Thewhoreof Babylon?”He reeled his body off the altar, stood over the remains of Eucharist, and drew in breath after breath.“But we aren’t in Babylon, Michael.Look behind you.There’s a pretty statue of you there.This is a place of faith, therightfaith.”Careful, the chief prince turned his head, to the right, as if he knew instinctively.And, yes, there was a figure on a podium there, named San Miguel, beautiful and blonde and pale-skinned, one hand lifting a sword and one foot over the coiling of a dragon.“But I’m sure you already know this nation, this town, is not Babylon, and so then I wonder what you’re doing standing here?Why are you looking for the anti-Christ?If you want to fulfill the prophecy, then Babylon must fall before the anti-Christ is killed.”
