Lightbringer - The Patron Saints of the Damned III

Exousia and Roach spent several more hours in the bar. Of course, not all of this was spent together, as the demon left to spend private time with the bartender goat-demon, Baph, in the back room. While they were gone, Exousia sat in a corner by himself to drink. She still felt shame that she was drinking blood so willingly … and even for enjoying it. However, her shame didn’t burn as intensely as it had while she’d been repressing it. It was more like staying in a cold, dirty bath–knowing that it wasn’t an optimal situation but also that it was tolerable for the moment. And though this did not make Exousia happy, it did make her feel … a sense of reprieve from the weight of the world and her own expectations. After years of demanding perfection, the grime of being in a bar with a despicable drink in hand felt cathartic.

“Meet anyone?” Roach asked, looking around sheepishly as he returned from the back room.

Exousia shook her head.

“Well, when you’re ready, Baph has a friend you may like,” Roach said. “We can do a double date!”

Exousia nodded as she changed the topic to one more serious. “I think we need to start making our way to Hades.”

Roach nodded and said to Baph, “We’ve got to go on our deadly mission, now. I’ll see you when we get back!” He shimmied up to her awkwardly, as if waiting for a farewell kiss.

Baph knelt so that they were at eye-level. And she gave an uncharacteristically concerned look. “Please, Roach … try not to get a leg cramp during your brief walk to the palace. I don’t know what I would do if you had to endure that much discomfort.”

“Alright, alright!” Roach said with slight irritation. He began to walk but then called over his shoulder. “Oh, and if any of Ammon’s soldiers come looking for Exousia and her daring sidekick, pretend like you never saw us.”

“Exousia …” Baph said, looking confused until realization dawned and rage began to boil in her eyes. “If any of those morons-”

“Let’s get going,” Roach said, whistling nervously and looking like might have regretted his poor judgment.

Once outside, they began walking toward the outskirts of the city. This wasn’t far because the bar was on the outskirts, far enough out so that they could see a couple of the remote demon houses from earlier scattered in the distance. For several hours, they walked silently in the dim light of the city. Eventually, the it was at their backs, and they were headed into emptiness. The further that the two got from the city, the darker the area around them became. This felt like a more secure way to travel, but each knew that they had to move quickly. Leaving the city meant that Ammon’s soldiers would eventually sense them in the lifeless vacuum. So, they kept up the pace, walking parallel to a distant highway traveled by humans and the giant creatures they’d seen from the top of the mountain. From so close, it was impossible to miss a series of enormous creatures the size of houses lumbering along.

“The Behemoths,” Exousia said, remembering her studies. It finally clicked for her, and she felt a little sick to her stomach.

“Yeah,” Roach said glumly.

The giants had once been demons, another faction who had tried to escape before the Lightbringer had imprisoned themselves in a maze. They had punished the rebels by taking apart their souls and fusing them all back together as colossal monsters–much like the Seers and a few other monstrosities no doubt still suffering in this realm. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done to heal them … and since forced labor had been their only comfort, they continued on with it long after Hades had offered reprieve. The low-strain work was said to keep them distracted from their pain. Now, they lumbered around Hell with their various cargoes, the skin of demons stretched over bulbous muscles and unsymmetrical skeletons.

Exousia wondered if, like with the process of birthing abominations, there was something she could do for them. She imagined a feat of that magnitude would require more experience, time, and probably power than what she had. Most likely, only someone as powerful as the Lightbringer could fix what they had broken. Perhaps a full demon with the power to split souls could do it … Ammon or Dufaii … but it seemed even beyond them. Still, it would be something worth looking into after she resolved things with Ammon.

“You look a little unhappy for being in a cheerful place like this,” Roach said, looking amused with his own wittiness as he said it, but still somehow sincere.

“I’m fine,” Exousia said, not daring to bring her own exhaustion into conversation while witnessing the suffering of the giants.

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Roach said, clearly trying to act like he believed it. “You do the whole psychic block thing like a champ. Better than any of the demons I’ve ever met. Just thought that maybe you were getting a little … lost in your thoughts.”

Exousia didn’t reply immediately. She was, in fact, lost in her thoughts. How could she not be after everything that had happened? But, in the spirit of continuing to try to rely on the demon, she tried to communicate the feelings eating away at her. “I … guess I let a lot of people down.”

“Oh, I know that feeling!” Roach said and tried to look empathetic. “The Godkiller?”

“Ammon as well, strange as it sounds,” Exousia said, her words feeling heavy. “I promised I would save him, and now it might be too late. And the humans who died in the woods did so for nothing. And I’m sure that Kueng, the Archangels, and about everyone else who tried to teach me feel like they wasted their time. I can’t stop feeling like I should have achieved the impossible. Everything demonkind had ever known has been impossible. The whole reason that this place is even here is because of that. But demons stand up and fight anyways; they make the impossible happen.”

“And most of the time it lands us on our asses,” Roach said. He gave her a warm clap on the shoulder. “Welcome to being a demon!”

Exousia blinked a few times, not having expected that.

Roach gestured at the space around them and said, “Look at where we are. Think we would be here if we had a history of winning?”

Exousia rubbed her temple. The demon’s words made sense to her. In fact, they seemed downright familiar. All the major influences in her life had at one point or another tried to make her see how difficult the path ahead would be.

Roach continued. “Nah, girl. You joined up with the loser squad. And it sucks. But to be one of us, you kind of have to learn to be a loser.”

Exousia wondered how it had taken her this long to realize this point. All her life, she had taken the warnings as challenges–as if people had been communicating that the odds were against her and that she would lose if she didn’t give it her all. But no … that had never been what they’d said. They’d said that the Challenge would be impossible. That it had been even felt within the realm of possibility of winnable had been part of Ammon’s strategy all along, because he had been absolutely sure of his victory the entire time. He never would have gambled with the fate of his people otherwise.

Exousia realized that she had simply not been willing to lose. And now that she had anyways, she didn’t know how to handle the unexpected bruise to her ego … her sense of self. But if she really meant to be a demon, then Roach was right. Loss was part of what it all meant. Reluctantly, Exousia forced herself to nod in agreement.

Unexpectedly, Roach turned to face the city. Then, he extended both fists towards it and extended the middle finger on either hand. “A human custom–the response for anyone who expects you to be more than any other demon, am I right?”

Exousia paused for a moment before she asked, “And if I’m the one that expects it out of me?”

Roach looked down at his fingers, then up at her, then back down at his hand. Then, with a widening smile, he redirected his middle fingers so that they were pointed at her. Roach gave off his loudest cackle yet, dropped his hand, and smiled warmly. “We’ve got to get over ourselves at some point.”

Exousia glared for a moment, creating a tense silence. Then–almost to her own sense of surprise–she lifted her hand, aimed it at her own head, and also extended her middle finger. The gesture, like the drink at the bar, felt surprisingly liberating … so much so that one of the corners of her mouth raised a little. She wasn’t berating herself or dismissing what the pain she’d endured. Rather, she was responding to that inner voice that demanded nothing short of perfection, making light of that … thing … placed inside of her in a time before she could even remember.

The moment became short-lived as they reached the top of a small hill to see the nearing outline of an enormous castle. It was the dwelling of Hades, which they had earlier seen from the city.

Roach then spoke up with a little trepidation, “Though the whole serious thing you have going on may be for the best when we get in there. I do at least have a small sense of self-preservation.”

Exousia nodded, clenched her fists, stood tall, and marched towards the palace.

-O-

Megan and the Archangel Michael made their way up the mountain by foot. She knew that her presence was slowing him down, but also that she had to be there. Her own personal investment aside, she knew that she had persuaded the angel to at least speak to Dufaii. If she had that power, then maybe she could convince him to help them find Exousia. Still, she hoped it was worth the extra hours it had taken to walk her to this point instead of letting the angel fly by himself.

An angel met them once they had walked a couple miles. She wore impressive armor, carried a giant hammer, and had red wings that matched her short red hair. Standing in front of a metal door that was fastened directly into the stone mountain, she saluted and said, “Archangel!”

“General Paya, I’m here to see the prisoner,” Michael said, looking none too pleased about it. But even in his displeasure, he addressed her with a respectful tone.

Paya nodded, returned to the gate, slid a heavy bolt-lock, opened the door, and waited for them to pass through. When they had, she followed them into a room with four heavily armored angels who looked like they were probably guards. The walls were bare stone, as was the floor, indicating that the place had not seen much use.

In the center of the room was an angel with blue robes, olive skin, and black hair. She had golden wings and wrinkles under tired but sharp-looking eyes.

“Archangel Raphael, I need to speak with the prisoner,” Michael said to her.

Raphael gave him a harsh look. “You’ve already let your emotions get the better of you in ripping him to shreds. And you knew full well that he was only here because he was desperate to find his child. You will not commit any more of your acts of brutality under my watch.” Her voice was earnest and … familiar.

Megan’s eyes widened in alarm as she realized that this was the same voice she had heard speaking to Gabriel. She tried to think whether she should shout a warning or else try to subtly get Michael’s attention to tell him. But she never had the chance to decide.

Raphael drew her sword and aimed it at them. “You have been deemed too emotionally unstable to continue in your position.”

Michael’s eyes grew in surprise as well. He reached for his sword, only for the other angels to point their weapons at his throat. So, he dropped his hand and shouted, “Stand down, all of you! This is an act of treason; she has no right to challenge my leadership of the military outside a public hearing.”

Raphael ignored him, however, and gave her orders to soldiers who clearly only were interested in her words. “During this state of emergency, Paya will undertake the burden of the Archangel’s responsibilities. Keep the girl safe and comfortable, but do not allow her to spread what she has seen to angels or demons. We cannot let anybody use this vulnerable period against us. I will speak to Gabriel to determine our next course of action.” With that, she exited the cave with one of the guards.

Paya signaled for the door to be shut behind the Archangel. Then she said, “Take the Archangel and the human to the cell next to the fallen one. She’s living, so retrieve food and water.”

Megan took several steps back, her heart racing as a massive male angel placed a hand on her shoulder and effortlessly pushed her towards the door. She tried to resist, but he gently moved her forward like she was a weightless toddler stopping to throw a tantrum.

The Archangel Michael, however, did not put up nearly so much of a fight. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut and left breathless. He didn’t even move his feet until a sharp prodding at the base of his neck forced him forward just to avoid being impaled. In his stupor, he was just going to let this happen!

Megan felt anger boil inside her. Somehow, in his own way, the angel reminded her of her brother. Idealistic, loyal to a fault, and vulnerable to the unexpected cruelty he now faced. She took several breaths, feeling weak and too afraid to do what she knew she had to. But she wouldn’t allow herself to feel like that again. She would not let these monsters do to her, to the old demon, and to this betrayed angel what they had done to her brother.

This thought burned inside of her, filling her with a rage she’d never known before. It was dizzying and put all else she was doing on autopilot. She felt herself reach into her pocket, draw the massive hand-cannon inside, turn to face the angel behind her, aim at his horror-stricken face, and pulled the trigger. Then, her vision was an explosion of golden blood, flesh, and hair; her ears rang deafeningly as the shot echoed off the nearby walls.

Several moments passed as Megan looked on with horror at what she’d done. Half of the angel’s head was gone, and his body was crumpled on the floor. She vaguely remembered something the demon had said about angels being immortal, but she no longer believed it. Nothing could recover from what she’d just done. As she waited there, she half-expected the other angels to grab her from behind and drag her to the furthest reaches of hell. But after a minute, nothing had happened. So, she turned around to face the other angels.

There were only two angels left standing, Michael staring back at her with wild eyes and a face covered in the same golden blood that had sprayed her. The veins were bulging in his neck and temples, and his face was hot pink. He looked down at the angels he had cut down, seeming a little more awake than he had been before. The only would he had endured was a deep cut along the length of his left arm, which forced him to carry his oversized sword with a single hand. He looked at the only other remaining angel.

Paya stood there, her face just as red and her shield splintered in half from the Archangel’s attack. Her defending arm was black, gold, purple, and mangled from having deflected the force of his strike. Her sword also had blood on it, and she looked like she wanted to add more. But then a sudden calm washed through her eyes, and she dashed towards the door, opened it, and took flight.

“The damn traitor is going for reinforcements!” Michael said, looking out the door like he was going to leave. “We need to get the rest of Guard here to hunt her and Raphael down. Come with me.”

But Megan shook her head, immediately recognizing what was going to happen. These were not the only angels conspiring in the sordid ordeal that they found themselves in. Raphael, Gabriel, Paya, and the other angels had planned this and were much more cunning than the one they had betrayed. She shook her head, more to herself than to him. “They’re going to come and see us covered in blood.”

Michael looked like he was going to say something, but then looked down at himself and then at her. “Gabriel … the Guard … the Creator, they won’t be fooled by this.” He said it defensively though, with the same lost look in his eyes as before.

“I told you that Gabriel is in on it, and so did she!” Megan shouted at him, knowing he could see that truth in her eyes now. There was no way that this was a coincidence. She looked at the door, realizing that everything in this new world was wrong. It was vile, corrupt, and on the verge of collapse. And there was nothing she could do about it, that Exousia could have done about it, that the Archangel Michael could do about it, and possibly even the Creator.

No, the only thing she could do was find Brennan and Exousia if that were even possible. Then she would figure out a way to get as far from all of this as they could get. And there was only one person who could help her find any of them, the demon locked up below them. She began to search the bodies strewn on the ground for some sort of key. This didn’t take long, as they hung on one of the angels’ belts.

“That demon will not help you!” Michael said, stepping in front of the door and shaking his head. “He is a betrayer, a liar, a manipulator, and an assassin. You cannot let him out of that cell.”

“I don’t care about your trust issues!” Megan shouted, aiming her gun at him as fury bathed over her again. “You don’t trust me, you don’t trust him, you don’t trust the Creator who told you to talk to him. About the only people you trust are the ones trying to shove swords in your neck. Well fine, but don’t you fucking get in the way of me finding my friends and my brother!”

The words seemed to hit Michael harder than the bullet would have. The same stunned silence struck his face, and he looked helpless and immobile. But, to her surprise, he recovered enough to nod, turn, and begin walking down towards the cells. And as he walked, he whispered something under his breath about forgiveness for his doubt … and for something else that she could not hear. But from the look in his eyes, it was enough to guess that it had something to do with preparing to release a demon into Heaven.