Daystar (8 page)

“Oh these will do more than injure I think.”
 
Uriel pulled out a second blade and lunged.

Andy dove and kicked Uriel.
 
Uriel slashed at him slicing open his foot.
 
Andy hit the ground and rolled away, his blood streaked the snow.
 
He sucked in air.
 
“It doesn’t matter.”

Uriel paused.
 
“What does not matter?”

“What you do to me, here.”

“Oh I think it matters to you, Andrealphus.”
 
Uriel dove and swiped at him, scoring his hand.

Andy limped.
 
“You cannot break me like you have broken others.”

Uriel smirked.
 
“Doubtful.”

Berith plowed into Uriel, knocking him back.
 
He grinned.
 
“Baby brother, I have missed you!”

Uriel flipped to his feet and glared at both Fallen.
 
He saw Apple on Berith’s back.
 
“Ah, a present!”

Andy looked to Berith.
 
“Those blades, they pierce and do not heal.
 
They are as the spear is!”

Berith nodded.
 
“Noted.”
 
He stepped between Andy and Uriel.
 

Andy backed away, heading for Belial.
 
He could no longer run, but he could move fast enough to cut off an attack on her.
 
He clenched his teeth; he could at least do that for her.

Belial flipped over his head and landed behind him with her swords drawn.
 
She glanced over her shoulder.
 
“Go back to Dahlia, you’re hurt.”

Andy turned and reached for her.
 
“I am not letting you fight Uriel!”

“Not
letting
me?”
 
Belial smirked.
 
“This is
my
fight.”
 
She planted a foot in his chest, sending him towards the crater.
 
She turned and faced Uriel as he charged Berith.

Andy landed at the lip of the crater.
 
Lucifer helped him to his feet.
 
“I need your help.”

Andy nodded and held his morning star like a bat.
 
He concentrated and ignored the pain from his cuts.
 
The two circled the crater.
 
He leapt over Dahlia’s head and smashed the morning star into a pair of diving angels.

Dahlia was coated in blood, stabbed in numerous places.
 
The spear cuts were small, but draining.
 
The wounds would not heal.
 
Her blood ran in rivulets into the ooze at her feet.
 
Her movements slowed.
 
She blinked against fatigue and sent another wall of liquid at Michael.

Lucifer watched her.
 
Concern and worry made his movements erratic.
 
He ached over Furcas, but could not let that cloud his thinking either.
 
They just had to wait until Paimon returned then they could retreat.
 

Lucifer locked his emotions away; he had one task, Dahlia’s protection.
 
He made it all consuming.
 
Lucifer readied his bat.

***

Gabriel flew on fire, unthinking, but in the cold of space, he slowly regained himself.
 
He hit the moon and stopped.
 
Gabriel shut out the thoughts and images that plagued him.
 
He gasped; he remembered his responsibilities and tasks.
 
He put the uncertain thoughts and fragments of memory out of his mind as he had done for ages.

Gabriel turned and looked back at Earth.
 
He saw his machine, damaged, near irreparable.
 
He jumped and flew towards it, calculating the functionality it would have remaining.
 
He landed on its surface in a crouch.
 
He touched the spots Paimon had damaged.
 
He let the name slip from his mind and the fallen angel became a faceless enemy again.
 
Just another long forgotten thought.

Gabriel moved broken pieces aside.
 
Scrawled in the material was the name.
 
His lips twisted.
 
“Paimon.”
 
He’d signed the damage, seared his name into the panels.
 
Gabriel’s hands twitched.
 
His body shook.
 
His skin lit on fire as he sobbed.

Gabriel threw himself at the machine.
 
He shoved his arms and legs into it, interfacing with it directly.
 
He poured his anger, fear, and confusion into the weapon.
 
It churned, fueled with the souls of countless dead humans.
 
The surface glowed and a beam of red light shot at Earth.

***

Barachiel directed the flight that he and Paimon took, a meandering freefall.
 
He wanted time to enjoy Paimon’s pain before he killed him.
 
He let Paimon squeeze his neck; it could not hurt him while he wore his pendant and he liked seeing how much Paimon wanted to kill him.
 
He was not worried.
 
His guardian angels flew around him in circles, waiting to jump in if he gave the order.
 

Barachiel smiled.
 
“I have the blade.
 
Do you want to see it, Paimon?”

Paimon stared into space, his eyes devoid of emotion.
 
Furcas’ loss was a gaping wound that sucked out all the feeling he had.
 
He became an empty vessel, no purpose, no love, no life.

The words and battle around him were inconsequential.
 
He did not care if Barachiel were to drive the blade into his chest.
 
In fact, he welcomed it.
 
He did not want to exist anymore; he wanted to follow Furcas.
 
He shuddered as tears blinded him.

Red light shot past them.
 
Barachiel screeched and swerved to take them out of its course.
 
Angels unlucky enough to be caught in the blast were vaporized instantly.
 
Barachiel grabbed Paimon and flew him up against the light.
 
He shoved Paimon’s face towards it, trying to illicit a reaction.

Paimon met his gaze.
 
“Just do it.”

Barachiel frowned.
 
He had expected more of a fight, more to play with.
 
He veered away from the red light.
 
“Not yet.”

Paimon lowered his head.
 
He let his hands go limp around Barachiel’s neck.
 
He shut everything out.
 
The light grew dim in his world.
 
He knew Barachiel would kill him soon so he closed his eyes.
 
He pictured Furcas, the first time he had seen him.
 
The young boy with the long hair, enraptured with beauty.
 
He had been a stunning creature, bewitching.

Tears slid down Paimon’s cheeks.
 
He wanted to touch him again, hold him.
 
Barachiel saw and laughed, but Paimon was in another place.

Paimon remembered Furcas singing to his flowers, innocent and sweet.
 
Furcas had no cares then, no worries, just an overabundance of emotion.
 
Instead of startling Furcas as he had done in the memory, Paimon let him sing.
 
The song warped, no longer what Furcas had created.
 
The song grew louder, pervasive.
 
Paimon hummed along.

Barachiel frowned.
 

The destruction song trapped in Paimon’s chest stirred.
 
It fed on pain; it was despair, death, and longing.
 
The song played for his heart and in it, Paimon was welcomed.
 
A companion in despair, the song was born from loss; it could only bring about loss.
 
It nurtured the feelings in him; it enfolded him in a dark embrace.

Paimon accepted the melody.
 
It curled around his limbs like a cold vapor, numbing as it killed.
 
He breathed it in and out as a dark mist.
 
The song played inside him a dirge for his beloved and his unborn child.
 
Paimon put his hand to his heart; he would join Furcas through this melody.
 
He gave himself over and he was Paimon no more.
 
He was death.

Barachiel watched Paimon’s expression grow peaceful.
 
He gripped Paimon’s chin and pulled him closer until they were nose to nose.
 
“Paimon!
 
Paimon!
 
Do you want to know what his last words were?”

Paimon’s eyes opened, his irises turned quicksilver.
 
Blackness slipped past his lips.
 
“No.
 
I want to know yours.”

Barachiel pulled back, but Paimon had strength that was not his own.
 
He kissed Barachiel.
 
He wrapped his arms around Barachiel’s chest and head like a vise.
 
The melody inside his heart surged into Barachiel.

Barachiel screamed into Paimon’s mouth, but he could not pull back.
 
The destruction song flowed through him, infecting his limbs and cells; it entered his mind and twisted and tore.
 
The song turned his light dark, aging him in seconds.
 
Barachiel’s hair went white then began to fall out.
 
His skin drew back over his skull and hands; his armor cracked and fell to pieces.
 
Barachiel’s wings and halos flickered, failed, and the pair fell without control.

Paimon did not care.

He let them fall as his hair turned silver.
 
His jetpack rusted and his clothes fell apart.
 
He opened his eyes once and saw his world grow dark; his eyes clouded over as he went blind.
 
He lifted his lips from Barachiel and thought of Furcas.

The song irradiated outwards, a dark, bruised symphony.
 
A black requiem of dying stars, grief, and the end of everything.
 
The song touched Barachiel’s guardian angels and they died together.
 
Their bodies plummeted with his.
 
The radius of death spread out from Paimon, growing as the song played on.
 
Thousands plunged alongside them.

Paimon held Barachiel close as the Archangel wailed and shook in death throes.

He whispered in his ear, “Never without consequences can you sever what was one.
 
In this I make that right.”

***

The song echoed across the battlefield.

Lilliam and angel alike held their heads, protecting themselves from the sound.
 
Lucifer’s eyes trailed upwards.
 
He shuddered.
 
Darkness fell towards them, death incarnate, the unwinding song of all.
 
He cupped his hands to his mouth.
 
“Paimon,
stop!
”

Andrealphus squinted.
 
“He is no longer conscious!
 
It plays on its own!”

Paimon fell through the shield the Lilliam maintained against Gabriel’s weapon.
 
The barrier faltered and began to fail.
 
The red light pressed against it, continuing its path towards them.

Lucifer grabbed Dahlia and dove out of the crater as the first shafts of light sliced through the shield to the ground below.

Michael tore through the ooze that held him and jumped in the other direction.
 
He looked at Lucifer.
 
“Unleashed it cannot be leashed.
 
It is the end of us all.”

Lucifer shook his head.
 
“Paimon wields it.
 
He
can stop it.”

Dahlia looked up.
 
“If he dies it goes loose and cannot be reclaimed.”

Uriel snarled from where he held his head.
 
“You were Primangel, Lucifer!
 
It is your song, collect it!”

Lucifer refused to look at him.
 
“We have that power no longer!
 
The song is its own.”

Dahlia gripped Lucifer’s hands.
 
“Throw me.”

“What?”

“Throw me!”
 
Dahlia pointed as Paimon fell closer towards the beam of red light.
 
“If he enters the light the song is free and we all die!”

***

Archangel Raphael cried out as the song neared.
 
He boxed his ears until he could no longer hear.
 
He gasped and flew downwards, just outside of the radius of death.
 
He searched the legion of angels.
 
He spotted Archangel Selaphiel and Jegudiel below him.
 
They were frozen in pain, unable to flee.