Chapter 23 The Devil
The angel’s been bitten. I grin as I pace the ruins of Hell. We’re rising. He broke the second to last seal. An angel committing blasphemy. Not just fucking Charlie like she belongs to him, but perverting God and holy items.
Those white feathers would have burned if he still had them.
I take a long drink of Fireball and savor the spice. The whole world will burn. The blood drained in Hell will fill the sky and what’s mine will be returned to me. The sins have done their job, perhaps in an unexpected way, but perfectly nonetheless.
All we needed was a horny, repressed angel tainted with everything he’s pushed down and fought. An angel already tempted and curious despite being devout and obedient. Then one moment when he realized he could have everything.
Because none of us angels are perfect.
All are a mere tap from rebellion.
And that corruptible little human isn’t thinking about the end of the world, the reality crumbling around her until it’s in ruins; the lattice work for something new, better, stronger, more honest coming to the world she’s known.
If she’d thrown herself in front of him or loved him enough to be his shield, it would have saved them both.
Well … for a few more hours, maybe days.
Technically, I have seven years to work on what the Bible calls the Great Tribulation, where I get free rein until God heaves himself down from Heaven.
But how often does an angel practically offer himself up to be ruined?
Whether he knew it was a seal or not, he practically demanded it, welcomed it. All I did was give him what he was so eager for.
Suriel’s once bitten and twice damned.
And I’m not one to ignore an opportunity for a deal, an opportunity to strike when the iron is hot.
Because I know exactly how this will go.
I’ve lived it.
When I tempted Eve, I thought that was the end.
Then I rebelled and assumed being cast out to a newly formed Hell would be the worst. I would do anything to regain my feathers rather than settle for festering, ever-burning wings.
So, when he told me to punish those who defied him, who refused to believe, and to test the humans to ensure blind faith, I obeyed.
Obedience is a fickle bitch.
Doing what you’re told isn’t the same as following God’s plan.
Perhaps we simply have a confused father who changes his mind without warning.
I’ll make him regret it all.
He wanted me to worship the humans, then punish them. Now I’ll enjoy them. I’ll unlock their potential. Any assigned angel will be ruined. Any angel that comes to fight me will be too late. All the pieces have come together in one beautiful, cohesive moment that I’m happy to drink to.
I raise the bottle of Fireball to the crumbling ceiling of hell as the legions of restless demons start climbing the walls, eager to help our ascension.
“I’m coming,” I say. “A new father for a fatherless world. A new leader for the lost. Earth is ours, the humans our play things.”
Demons cheer and trumpet in the waking silence from Heaven.
God believes he’s immovable, always atop his throne where he’s safe.
If he wants to stay there, so be it. He can witness the downfall of humanity as a whole.
I hope he replays every horrific scream.
I hope he drinks in what his creations are truly capable of, the harm they want to cause, the sex they want to have, and every horrific moment of their flawed nature.
He lost his power long ago and has been limping along, reliving the golden years when people obeyed, when they upheld love and didn’t twist his message by focusing on the words. I hope he dissolves under the weight of his own irrelevance.
While he saved the devout, the devoted, the innocent, he abandoned those that were good, yet imperfect.
They’ll forget him. They’ll curse his name if they do remember, and all I have to do is offer another option, to feed their depravity – the same curiosity that went unchecked since Adam refused to tell Eve of the one rule and took the bite after she did.
Children test limits.
God forgot that a strong hand and involvement matters.
Now he’ll reap the rewards of his own ignorance, even if he calls it ‘free will.’ I’ll show him real freedom. It isn’t anything holy. It isn’t anything divine. It’s the dull, broken blade that will thrust between ribs and take its time finding the heart. He’ll get what he gave ten-fold.
All starting with Charlie.