Chapter 9 #3
“Not diamonds, no,” he laughed. “You always make these leaps that I don’t understand, doll.” All roads lead the same way if you only know how to build forward. “And that isn’t all, there was another deal in that country you said you’ve been in. With the military.”
“It comes with provisions, I imagine,” mumbled the priest. Almost certainly a promise to keep the migrants from reaching Babylon, almost certainly to capture some expendable criminals and scapegoat them. It’s a delicate balance between pretending to help and pressing hard on the neck.
The man was laughing and ignored the beautiful one’s remark.
“I have a question for you. You know about who.” It’d been ten years since the subject’s death; they didn’t say his name; it was always safer not to, even when they booked a casino, a house, a room privately.
Friends, colleagues, were all talking, drinking, fiddling with slots, and the priest returned to watching the colors whirl.
“I did some private investigating. All this time, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was hiding out in his home country with a new collection of children.
” He’d been a sex trafficker. “I tried to hunt him down. He should know I’m a friend, I thought.
I thought…. he was too powerful to kill, even if he had enemies in every corner.
I mean, all his blackmail, doll — he seemed untouchable.
But then, I spoke to some authorities.” Quiet — “You were never the same after he died.”
“A girl can’t grieve?” ángel chuckled, but he knew he was caught.
It didn’t matter. What was more concerning was the arms deal — further violence in the town he’d started the day in might only cause trouble, not to mention that the strand of survival for Babylon was thinning.
This would not help. He had to send a message to Babylon; he had to do this for reasons beyond petty annoyance with the blood diamond billionaire.
He was laughing again — the man, and he ran his hand up and down the slim back of the demon.
“I missed you, I really did. The other girls aren’t like you.
Not as charming, not as pretty.” It’d been a year since they’d last slept together, and almost a decade since the apex of their relationship, and the priest distinctly remembered how the man had said, ‘You must be an angel,’ as they’d laid together in the aftermath.
The man hadn’t cared for the death of their colleague back then, too glad to be the one fucking the priest now. “But about… our friend.”
“The timing of his death did seem rather convenient, didn’t it?”
“I saw his body; the authorities showed me the pictures.” The man finally, draggingly, removed his hand. “And they lied about his suicide.”
“Can’t a man kill himself with three bullets to the head without conspiracy these days?” Setting down the cocktail, the priest hoped that the doors were locked, though they didn’t have to be; he would be quick. “And God forbid he burn his body to ash after his death too.”
The man, again, snickered, but this time with a touch of disbelief.
“I told you that I missed you. And, listen, if you’re the one behind the untimely demise of our friend, you don’t need to worry.
Whoever you work for — because I know there must be someone — let them know I’ll be their friend too. I’m a reasonable man.”
Finally, the priest lost his patience, and he slapped the hand that the man had tried to set on his waist with nails that seemed just a bit too sharp.
Some wrinkled skin clawed off in gashes of deep, dark red.
“Stupid fucker. I don’t work for anyone.
” And the man hissed and jerked away, stumbling backward.
At the river, Dina flipped through the Bible again, as he’d been instructed to do.
The pages were riddled with holes, and more than a few times, he had to swipe away at insects squashed between pages.
Though it would normally be too dark to read, proximity to the border ensured ample light from posts on both sides of the river.
Regardless, he squinted, and his lips mouthed the words he read silently, fingers tracing the bottom of the letters as he moved along the scripture.
Despite being locked in a room with literature for so long, Metatron had primarily given Dina dictionaries, and when the angel had read the Bible, he had studied it for language, not meaning.
And Uriel, too, had always discouraged Dina from reading it and called it ‘utter fantasy.’ Now, he wondered what it all meant, why it mattered.
Dina whispered, “Then I saw the beast and the kings of the Earth and their armies gathered together to wage war against the rider on the horse and his army. But the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who had performed the signs on its behalf.” He turned some pages, then read some more, “The beast was given a mouth speaking arrogant and blasphemous words, and it was allowed to exercise authority for forty-two months. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority. One of its heads seemed to have received a death blow…” He thought of the hole in Tadeo’s head, and then he blinked in confusion.
Just as the man in the casino snapped, “What the fuck was that? You stupid bitch. You gold-digging bitch. I know you did it.” He cradled his hand to his chest, but just as he opened his mouth—
“Mm, is that…?” The priest looked at the bar, and he noticed the faint music again, the melody and its lyrics.
“Oh, it’s the Harlot.” The gorgeous pop star, who was on hiatus to prioritize her health for some time.
“I’m her biggest fan.” A smile began to curl on pretty painted lips, then a grin bloomed, alongside a flirtatiously raised bare shoulder.
“I’ve been told I look just like her. What do you think?
” The man looked utterly bewildered for a moment, but then he blinked once, twice — either because the realization was sinking in or because the priest had just hopped onto the bar counter, turned over, then disappeared onto the other side.
As Gemory had promised, the weapon — a long, obsidian-colored assault rifle was tucked beneath the counter.
“What are you doing?” the man called.
Humming to the melody, the priest reached for the gun, noticing from the corner of his eye as the bartender hurried away.
“I suppose I could have had a worse time with you,” ángel said, gripping the handle.
“But don’t worry, Babylon will miss you even if I won’t.
” Maybe Gemory had been smart enough to lock the doors on her way out, or to pay off the security guards.
Even if she hadn’t — the priest was guaranteed a good massacre just by virtue of how far the exit was.
Casinos were labyrinths by design. Lifting the weapon, ángel pointed it at the first casualty, and then watched the wicked man’s body thrown backward at the first barrage of bullets.
Those behind him burst into red similarly, bones splintering, muscles bursting.
And then, all those running and shouting followed.
‘The book,’ said the star to Dina, ‘of the end times. Of the anti-Christ.’
‘Is this about… Tadeo?’
‘He doesn’t know what he is. You must guide him into becoming a false prophet. The way I’ve guided you, you must guide him.’
Dina kept, kept, thinking of Uriel, of the old archangel desperate to stop the apocalypse from ever happening. ‘Forgive me.’ It seemed this truly was God’s will. ‘Uriel, I wasn’t sent here to save them or to save us.’ And neither was Tadeo.
In the midst of massacre, the beautiful Satan listened to the agony and fear, drank it all in, as he lifted his stilettos over bodies and walked.
He’d have to leave now; he’d have to tell a story the people would believe.
He had to avoid this much carnage again any time soon.
“Oh Tadeo,” sighed Satan, “what ever will I do with you?”