“It is not the proper time,” said Satan, recalling God on His Throne, scolding Michael for bringing the devil back to him too soon.
“I know,” Michael replied.‘I’m here to stop the apocalypse.I will break the prophecy.I will destroy you before it was written to do so.’
Satan, his smile saccharine, thought: ‘The sword of God has finally rebelled.’“Come forward and kill me then.”
Elsewhere, Joana hopped off the car and yanked her gun back out of the back of her pants, then began running toward where the invasion was happening, wondering who would follow.Not everyone did — she hadn't expected that — but as the drones’ buzzing grew, as strikes burst certain buildings into flares that collapsed onto themselves soon after —more began to follow her, one after another.The young men, the boys, then the adults, the younger women, as others hurried to hide elders and children.At this, Tadeo lifted his head, but he could hardly see, still thinking of the soldier who’d burnt up into nothing, of the family he could see the remains of nearby.He whispered his friend Joana's name, and he crawled forward, wanting to help.
Satan took slow, calculated steps forward.‘Where did this come from?What has broken you?’He remembered what he’d told Azazel.‘Was it the girl?’Tilting his head, he reached into his robe, drew out a pocketknife, flipping it open, twirling it between his fingers.“Go easy on me, big brother.All I have is this.”
“Liar,” said the saint, sword in both hands as he began to move, and the two fell into circling each other.“Take out your firearm.”
Snorting, Satan said, “You’re finally learning.”Regardless, he didn’t reach for his gun when Michael, impatient, stepped forward and swung his sword.The devil sidestepped, lowered his head when the prince swung high, then jumped back when the sword sliced low.“You’re turning on the hand that feeds you.Aren’t you scared, Michael?Poor little Michael — do you know how to do anything without your Father to tell you how?”
Michael brought one hand to his chain, felt how all the demons tensed, but he gripped it anyway, pulled it off of him, smacked it against the air like a whip.“I defeated you during the war for Heaven.”
“You had an army with you, then,” Satan replied.
“I have something to fight for now,” Michael snarled and finally threw out his chain as Satan laughed.
Elsewhere, Joana took the gun that her brother handed her and ran on ahead, ducking immediately when she heard the boom of what must've been a tank shooting.A second after, there was another harsh boom and the crackle of something exploding, followed by the sirens of a car blaring sharp again, and again.Joana turned her head back, felt herself showered by the blinking, broken lights of a destroyed van at the end of the road.She saw, then, Lupina, shoving some of the men, trying to urge them to help.
‘I need you too,’ Joana wanted to tell the criminals.‘You horrible, awful men.’
“Joana!”First, Lupina shouted it, then it was Joana's brother.“Joana!”Joana twisted and began running, and she heard some of the criminals’ quick footsteps follow.When they came across another tank, turning its head, some of the men shot, some of them hurried for safety.Joana herself skidded to two buildings, hiding in between them and panting for breath.She grumbled, “You sons of bitches.The world is over!”Her voice raised but not much; she was too out of breath.‘Turn on the nation that you served.Turn on the ones who did this to us!All of you!”She didn't know if they could hear her.“Fight back with us!”They wouldn't, as most of the criminals wouldn't, but it wasn't about winning.
She wanted to tell the worst of the worst still in town that they were victims too, of circumstances, of powers much greater.The torturers, the traffickers, the assassins, even those who hadn't been forced into crime, those who'd fallen in to simply impress.The evil of the world is done by people, not demons, and people are made by people.Everyone in the world ought to go to Hell; we are all responsible.
Joana's brother caught up to her, and he said he would throw his grenade into the tank.If he could reach it in time, he would.“Do you think I can do it?”
“Just try it,” Joana said, and he agreed.“Hit the tanks.I'll shoot at the drones.”She patted his arm firmly, then took off running onto the street again, headed for the plaza.As she ran, she noticed others running with her again — mostly young boys and men, but many girls, and fathers, and eldest sisters.They carried military grade weapons — many of them.It must've been the criminals, handing them over or it must've been defectors from their military.‘I remember dreaming of this, of all of us uniting.’It was not what she'd hoped, but it would do.All her life, she’d learned to make do with the little you wrestled out of God's hands.
Turning up her head, Joana looked for the perpetrators of the horrific hissing noise with renewed vigor and a sort of sad joy.Everything was happening now, all that she'd dreamt of.At the end of time, she had done it.In the distance, however, there were winged creatures.At first, Joana felt tempted toward relief, believing it must be Michael and his army, but then she noticed they weren't armored.The Watchers.
Satan, easily, evaded the chain whip, by jumping aside and allowing it to strike at the tips of his hair.But Michael threw it out again, then again.The third time, it struck at Satan's leg, hard enough to twist it and send him down onto one knee with a hiss.Hissing, gritting his teeth.In between, Michael's heavy steps neared, and Baal shouted the devil's name.‘How terribly do you have something to fight for, Michael?How terribly do you want to save the world?’
Michael wound his chain around his hand again, and he said — “You forget.Everything you know, I taught you.”
Satan knew he was powerless against a full suit of armor; Michael had learned indeed.Even still, the devil laughed, touching his pounding, bleeding leg.“I know.”He had wrestled in Heaven.He had beat Michael, once.‘I remember how.’“I know better than anyone what it's like to lose and die for it, Michael.”He slumped a little.“And I know exhaustion.”Michael was not swayed, yet, and Lucifer looked into Michael’s mask.“You said you would kill us both.Is that still true?”
Michael gripped his sword, lifted it.
“I dreamt, once,” Satan said, “that God created us together at the beginning of time.Then, He killed seven of you, and he killed forty of me.This time, He wants us to kill each other.”Then, Michael faltered, and he began stammering that only Satan would die now, but the devil yanked out his revolver, aimed.He shot at the sword’s handle, watched as it flew out of Michael's hand before Lucifer, with his gunless hand, threw his pocket knife at Michael's knee.It was armored, of course, but Michael still jolted away to dodge, and Satan took the chance.He stepped forward, bit down a cry in pain over his leg, grabbed Michael's helmet, then ripped it off, threw it in the direction of the sword.Slow, it rolled.
Michael tackled Satan, forward, wings striking everywhere, as the devil kicked and growled.
Joana watched the winged destroyers approach, saw their scanning eyes, and she breathed out a great sigh.She thought, ‘They’re looking for someone.Tadeo?Dina?’It didn’t matter.She saw makeshift spears in their hands, and she began marching toward them, then toward a pole, where an angel statue was perched at the top.She’d once climbed trees with her father.‘Before you worked for them.’She remembered his laugh, and his body, his hands, helping her up as a child to reach a branch, but — even in this memory — his face was blown open by the bullet she’d shot through his head.“Angels!”Of course, they wouldn’t hear her.She latched onto the pole, grabbed it tight, wrapped her legs around it, then began climbing.“Angels!Angels!”Now, they were turning toward her, and she saw their leader ahead of them, the one with the white face paint.
At this same time, Tadeo finally twitched, and he tilted his massive head to the side.He almost hadn’t felt it, but there was a person there, pulling at a wing of his.A woman, beautiful, coated in ash and blood, her hair falsely blonde, her roots dark, her face streaked with tears that kept pouring out from her.She panted: “Tadeo— Please help!Help Joana!She was running north!”He trembled.He could see his grandfather’s face, his uncle’s face.His father.‘Joana.’He had to see her too.He inched forward, but his stomach lurched, and so did his skin.He took another step, and when he heard the voices of others urging him, he forced himself to take another.‘Father.’And grandfather.Uncle.Cousins.Dante.Mother.Half a child again, dreaming of being put to sleep.
Joana climbed up to the top, grabbed onto the angel statue’s neck, then she called out: “Whoever you’re looking for, it’s me!”All around her, the war raged, and the clash continued.Some criminals and soldiers defecting together to fight alongside the civilians.At the end of time — everything she'd ever wanted.
Azazel saw her, and he breathed out slow, thinking of his child, remembering all the fury of the infant's death that Satan and Michael were responsible.Twirling his spear, he felt anger boil over his heart, and he lifted his weapon high over his head, and he clenched his teeth.‘Revenge.’So cold that he was numbing.‘Finally.’At last.But before he could throw it, Samyaza suddenly lunged at him.“Agh—!”he cried out, twisting, looking wildly at Samyaza, grappling his arms.“What are you doing?!”
“Stop!”Samyaza rasped weakly, then hiccuped.“Stop.Please stop.”
“What?”Azazel panted.Then, more frantic: “No.”
“Child,” Samyaza forced out, raw voice scraping up his throat.“Not children.Enough.Please.”And then he whispered, “My children.Yours.Naamah.”
