Armageddon (42 page)

No, it was time now to take it back.

To wrest control from the Darkstar.

“Are we ready, Milton?” Lucifer Morningstar asked, rising
up from where he sat. The tiny, warm body of the rodent resting in his hand brought the Morningstar great comfort.

And in this comfort he found the strength to do what he must.

Placing the mouse on his shoulder, the Son of the Morning readied himself to take matters into his own hands once more.

As Hell carried on as only Hell could do, Lucifer closed his eyes and saw beyond the pocket of his subconscious where he currently resided and looked out through eyes that had once been his.

Lucifer saw his son, and knew at once that a new and dangerous responsibility had been added on to his already gargantuan burden. Realizing this, he allowed himself the chance to listen to the thoughts of the dark thing that lived within his body, repulsed by the depths of its evil.

Fragments of thought so assailed his every sense that he was almost driven back to the safety of his deep subconscious.

Heaven would fall . . . God driven from the light, into the clutches of darkness . . . a Ladder would be restored, giving a means to breach the pearly gates . . . and this would come from Aaron—the Metatron—who held within him the power of God.

The situation was even more dire than Lucifer could have imagined. His essence surged forward, shattering the black, crystalline barriers that held him at bay.

Regaining mastery over his own form.

*   *   *

Aaron fought to move, but his energy was practically nonexistent; his multiple injuries taking their toll. All he could do was watch the blade fall and pray for the strength to survive the assault.

As the knife approached his chest plate, it stopped. The strangest of expressions passed over the face of his enemy.

It was a look that could only be described as surprise.

Knowing that this might be his only chance, Aaron reacted, focusing every remaining ounce of strength that he had in reserve into one hand igniting a short sword in a rush of divine fire.

The look on Satan’s face was almost comical, wide eyes darting about as he struggled to bring the dagger down, but appeared incapable.

Aaron leaped up from where he lay, bringing the cracking sword around, plunging the blade into the Darkstar’s side.

There came the most horrible of screams, Satan’s ebony wings pounding the air furiously as he attempted to make his escape. Aaron jumped for his injured foe’s leg to keep him on the ground, but Satan evaded his grasp. Aaron fell to his knees and watched as the Darkstar’s huge, flapping wings carried him off to safety.

A shot echoed across the desert, and Satan Darkstar fell from the sky in an explosion of black feathers.

Aaron whirled around to see his mother, cradling a
smoking weapon in her arms as she came closer. Vilma walked beside her, covered in a thick coating of dust, but never looking more beautiful. Gabriel trotted faithfully beside her, shaking the desert dirt from his coat. Levi and the Unforgiven soldiers, having survived the fall of the mammoth object that had crashed down from the sky, walked behind them.

They waved to him, and Gabriel barked raucously, but reunions would need to wait. There were still matters of evil to be contended with. Satan had not been vanquished.

Aaron flew to where the Darkstar lay.

Satan lay on his stomach, perfectly still. One of his wings was smoldering where it had been shot.

Aaron knelt beside his foe.

The power of God, though weakened, still raged within him, and it demanded retribution. He tried to calm it down, but it would not listen. It wanted to see its foe vanquished, destroyed, not caring that his father was not responsible for his actions.

Summoning a dagger of fire in case, he reached out to turn the villain over. He was surprised to find Satan’s eyes wide and focused.

There was something in his enemy’s gaze that touched Aaron’s soul.

“Dad?” Aaron whispered.

It was no longer Satan that was with him, but the Morningstar.

“I . . . I’m not sure how much longer . . . I can hold him at bay,” Lucifer struggled to say.

He reached out, grabbing hold of Aaron’s wrist, pulling the knife of fire toward his chest.

“Do it,” the Morningstar commanded.

Aaron was horrified by what his father was asking of him. He fought God’s power as it urged him to carry out his father’s command.

His father’s eyes slid away from his, growing wider as they fixed on something behind him.

Aaron turned to see his mother standing there, still holding her weapon at the ready. Vilma, Gabriel, and some of the Unforgiven soldiers stood by her.

“Taylor,” Lucifer whispered.

His mother stood rigid, but then her grip relaxed, the rifle falling to the ground.

“Sam?” she asked, her voice quivering.

Sam?
Aaron wondered, but the question was swept aside as his mother ran to the Morningstar, throwing her arms around him in an unbridled display of emotion.

L
ucifer Morningstar had never believed he would hold her in his arms again.

He’d always considered losing Taylor part of his punishment—his penance for the crimes he’d committed against his Holy Father and Heaven. Never had he imagined—especially in a moment such as this—that he would be reunited with his love.

“You look awful,” she said to him as he stood up from where he lay.

“I haven’t been myself,” he told her, reaching to wipe away some of the tears that streamed down her filthy face.

He could not help himself. He brought his mouth to hers. His kiss was eagerly accepted, and it renewed his strength to battle the ancient force that possessed him.

But for how long?

Lucifer knew that his time was limited.

“The beasts of nightmare will be here momentarily,” the Morningstar said, pulling away from Taylor and turning his attention to his son.

From a distance, Lucifer saw the legions of monsters who still survived making their way across the desert, as if they were drawn to the lingering malevolence of their master.

Aaron knelt upon the ground, and Lucifer could see that he was struggling with the power that now possessed him.

“What did you do?” Lucifer asked him.

“What I could,” Aaron answered, lifting his pain-racked gaze. “I tried to assume the mantle of the Metatron, but I don’t think the power of God likes me.”

“That extreme power was not meant for you,” he said. “It’s fighting you . . . eating you alive from within.”

“There wasn’t any other way,” Aaron said. “I had to try and stop the Darkstar.”

With a mention of the Lord of Shadow’s moniker, Lucifer felt the creature trapped inside him resume its fight. He gasped, using the strength of his love for Taylor and Aaron to keep the monster restrained.

“What can we do?” Taylor asked, coming to stand beside him.

Lucifer smiled, aroused by her selflessness. “You can do what you’ve obviously been doing since I broke your heart,” he told her.

He could see that she was about to protest but stopped her with a glance. “I never believed that I would ever get the chance to say how sorry I am,” Lucifer told her. “Leaving you was one of the hardest things I have ever done.”

She placed the most tender of kisses upon his lips, and Lucifer thought that if he were to die right then, he would be satisfied.

But there were things that still needed to be done, monster forces to be lessened.

A sword of fire ignited in Vilma’s hand as she looked out over the desert. Gabriel had positioned himself at her side, wisps of divine fire leaping from the ends of his hackled coat.

“It won’t be long now,” she said, turning to look back to them.

Aaron managed to create a sword, despite his weakened condition.

Taylor picked up her weapon from where she’d dropped it.

“Once more into the breach,” she said, flicking a switch, causing it to hum loudly as it charged.

Lucifer was amazed by their bravery, proud that he had known them and fought alongside them.

But it was his time.

And his time alone.

The Morningstar strode past them, allowing his wings to emerge. The left wing was still a bit tender, but it had pretty much healed. It would suffice enough to carry him aloft.

“Where are you going?” Taylor asked.

Lucifer didn’t want to turn around, knowing how hard it would be to look away, but her voice compelled him.

“There is a task I need to perform,” he said.

“We’ll back you up,” Vilma said. Her wings appeared, and she held her blazing weapon eagerly by her side.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you going to do?” Aaron asked.

Lucifer looked to his son and felt nothing but pride.

“What needs to be done,” he said. Lucifer pointed to the approaching beasts. “Their numbers must be whittled down,” he said. “And I believe I have a way.”

His eyes moved past them to the giant crack in the desert. A pulsing orange glow emanated up from the fissure, followed by a thick, noxious cloud.

“Most are simple beasts,” Lucifer said, again turning away from them, “and are easily swayed to obey.”

“Sam,” Taylor tentatively called.

He hesitated, turning back one last time.

“I love you,” she told him.

“And I you,” he answered. Lucifer took to the sky, feeling stronger at that moment then he had in eons.

Strong enough to hold back the Devil, and the legions of Hell itself.

*   *   *

“I have to go with him,” Taylor said.

Vilma reached out to grab her arm, stopping her.

“We need you with us,” she said, shifting her eyes to Aaron, who looked worse than he had mere moments ago. “Aaron needs you too.”

Taylor gazed after Lucifer’s dwindling shape as new tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Okay,” she said, hefting her weapon and regaining control over her emotions. “What now?”

Vilma placed an arm around Aaron to keep him from falling. She saw the strain on his face and knew that God’s power was killing him.

And that was killing her.

“We have to protect that,” he said, slowly turning to point out the stone structure that had been revealed from deep beneath the desert sands. “If my father doesn’t make it . . . if the Darkstar regains control . . . we need to keep him from that.”

“Beth-El,” Levi whispered in reverence, his shaded gaze locked upon the temple. The fallen angel dropped to his knees on the sand. “We stand before the House of God.”

The other Unforgiven followed their leader, heads bowed in a deep-residing respect.

Vilma noticed tiny gouts of flame appearing on Aaron’s golden armor, flames that seemed to be eating away the divine metal, and she looked at him with concern on her face.

“I’ll be all right,” he said, forcing a smile.

Gabriel whined pitifully.

“I think this power,” Aaron touched his chest with a large, armored hand. “I think that this power is the key to that.” He again pointed toward the temple.

“And it’s killing you,” Gabriel barked.

Aaron didn’t argue with the dog; he just pulled himself taller, reaching out a trembling hand to lay it upon the faithful dog’s blocky head.

Vilma wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him tight, but she knew that it wasn’t the time for such emotional displays.

She needed to be strong for him, for all of them really.

They all seemed to sense it at once, a strange tickling sensation that caused the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. Vilma spun toward the disturbance, a welcome distraction from the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

The Unforgiven reacted too, their guns aimed at the strange being that seemed to have stepped out of the air.

Gabriel began to cautiously move toward the strange figure who stood before them, his body seemingly made of metal.

“Gabriel, no,” Vilma said, but the dog did not listen.

The Labrador tilted his head back, sniffing the air about the strange metal man. “Dusty?”

The man turned his gray eyes to the dog, his mouth twitching in confirmation.

Vilma lowered her sword, taking in the young man’s features.

“Dusty, is that you?” Her mind raced with questions, but
they were quickly forgotten as their friend’s stomach began to pulsate and bubble, somehow changing to liquid.

Once more Vilma raised her sword, and the Unforgiven aimed their weapons.

Something coated in a liquid metal fell from Dusty’s core. It was small, childlike, and the figure writhed on the ground before finally climbing to its feet.

The metal fluid flowed off the child, returning to Dusty.

They were stunned. The little boy spat liquid metal on the ground, brushing away residue from his bare arms.

“Well, that was disgusting,” he said in a voice far more mature than that of a four-year-old.

Gabriel approached the child, giving him a careful sniff.

“Oh dear,” the child said, rearing back. “Good doggy.” He was obviously afraid. “That’s it, be off.” He shooed the dog away with his hands.

“Who . . . ?” Vilma began, stunned by this latest bit of insanity. “Where . . . ?”

The child carefully walked around Gabriel, not wanting to get too close, and approached the Metatron.

“I’m Enoch,” the child said. He then looked past Aaron, to the Beth-El temple in the distance.

Vilma gasped as Aaron dropped weakly to his knees before the child.

Enoch stood eye to eye with him then.

“I think I can help,” the child said, leaning in close, looking
deep into Aaron’s eyes. “The power that’s killing you belongs to me.”

*   *   *

Lucifer kept the abominable legions at bay, flying above their heads in a grandiose display.

He circled their diminished number, though there were still quite a few that had managed to survive. Lucifer could see the fear in their eyes as they watched him. None of the beasts wanted to offend their Dark Master in any way.

The ancient evil shrieked and wailed inside him.

“Scream all you like, loathsome thing,” Lucifer said. “You are my prisoner now.”