light. Four tunnels opened on a concrete platform that edged a body of water about thirty feet on a side. Seven pipes of varied diameter opened on the liquid and dripped or disgorged waste at intervals. The air was horrible. The Marquis pressed his scented hanky over his face and moaned.
At the far side of this pool was a ragged figure beside a shopping cart full of bulging plastic bags. The lantern hung from its handle.
The assassin had his gun out.
“Stay here,” he whispered to Tiny and then paced around the concrete platform. The derelict’s lantern made him a silhouette. The man was humming to himself, but suddenly stiffened. Clutching a plastic bag to his chest he turned.
“No!” he cried. “They’re mine!” He had a great mass of frizzy salt and pepper hair. The giant beard covering his gaunt cheeks was stained with wine and food. The man’s dark eyes crossed on the pistol-barrel, then slid up Felon’s arm to his face. A second of bewilderment followed, and then he lifted his eyebrows.
“Ah! It’s you. I heard about you.” He chuckled and dragged a round metal tin out of the bag, started to work at its plastic lid. “I thought you were going to rob me.” He chuckled as he struggled with the lid. “You’re that Quickdraw McGraw fellow…”
Felon glared.
“Quickdraw? Like a cowboy!” The Devil flicked a dirty hand in the air index finger out like a gun barrel. “Fast on the draw…” His eyes flashed around. Lucifer smiled. “Everybody talks about you.”
“Who?” Felon kept his gun up.
“Friends, Felon. Acquaintances…business people…” He laughed. “Them what’s scared of ya, as your cowpoke friend might say…” The Devil flicked his chin back down the tunnel. Then his eyes went serious. “Don’t let’s play stupid.”
“Why the pretense?” Felon looked Lucifer’s hobo costume over-he even had the fingers cut off his gloves.
“And you brought Kepheral!” He waved at the Marquis who nodded. He dug dirty nails under the lid, opened it and then picked a long flattened cigarette butt from the collection within. Lucifer leaned in close to Felon. “Pissed in his own bathwater this time.” He gestured with the can, offering him one.
The assassin shook his head.
“Yes, pretense-no reason for pomp.” Lucifer pinched the hand-rolled cigarette between his fingertips. “Sorry if I disappoint but things have changed?” He shook his head. “You can’t corrupt these people anymore. Declaration of Independence got things rolling…didn’t need any more than that…uh, I guess science had some impact, and Capitalism… The cult of the individual broke the tribes up… spirituality fell out of favor in the west, the real stuff. Just crystals and mood rings now.” He started coughing. The sound was wet and full of phlegm. He lit his cigarette with a wooden match, smiled around the smoke. “Fads and celebrities…people already put themselves before their brother and god. So…what’s the Devil to do?” He squinted his eyes in the lantern light. “But you didn’t come here for this.”
“Just an act.” Felon’s arm swept at Lucifer’s shabby clothes. He bared his teeth like a dog.
“Your certainty reminds me of faith,” Lucifer took another long drag on his cigarette. The smoke smelled like burning manure. “Would make me proud if I believed in pride any more.” He suddenly stood straighter. His posture slumped and he started laughing. “What do you want?”
Felon gauged the Devil. It was hard to read anything behind the full beard and rags. “Who set me up?”
“You haven’t figured that out?” Lucifer spit out bits of tobacco.
“No, lies.” The assassin shook his head. He gestured to the sewer walls and Lucifer’s shopping cart. “You command legions.”
“Command?” Lucifer smirked.
“Thousands,” Felon growled.
“And where would I lead them?” Lucifer asked with a grin. “My last little outing was not a screaming success.”
“You’re their leader,” Felon hissed.
The Devil looked at him sideways. His dark eyes gleamed. “You don’t get it.” He smiled. “It’s confusing, I know. That fucker John was out of his depth describing the revelation.” Lucifer shuffled over-his feet were wrapped in rope, old shoe and dirty cloth. His body odor was overpowering. “See, it was like a dream I guess, and he mixed the past events with the future.”
Felon turned his nose up, and Lucifer smiled. “Felon, I commanded legions in the Great Rebellion, but we lost. All of my loyal followers were damned for it.” He shrugged. “That kicked the shit out of my approval rating. I won’t lie to you, I have power-but I couldn’t get volunteers for a pussy eating contest.” Lucifer leveled his gaze. “I got them damned, Felon.”
“But you’ve continued your rebellion,” the assassin snarled.
“Here on earth?” the Devil asked. “Sure, in small ways but you know this isn’t Heaven, and tempting you Second-born into evil is too easy for someone of my skills. First thousand years or so, I really took it out on you. But, as your fear of religion faded, so did the fun of fucking with your immortal souls. People stopped talking about God and you can’t fall from grace if you don’t know what grace is… I can’t broke what ain’t fixed!” His eyes did an inward turn and then he smiled. “I had some good times during the Inquisition.”
“This?” Felon gestured to the Devil’s rotten clothing.
“I’m the King of Rebels, remember?” Lucifer said matter-of-factly. “And tempting horny housewives to blow the pool boy is a step or two beneath my station.” He shrugged. “Here’s a bit of that divine awareness, for you: My contempt for you people resulted in a contempt for their tormentor, moi!”
Felon turned away, his mind racing. He whipped back. “You’re not involved?”
“No more than any rat on a sinking ship!” Lucifer smiled and said, “Of course, I can be a spectator and enjoy the irony. Michael always had a taste for you Nodlings.” He shook his head. “He loved bouncing little Nephilim on his knee. I knew it would get him in the end.”
“Nephilim?” Felon stabbed his face at Lucifer. “Michael?”
“Nephilim are human-Angel hybrids. We’re forbidden to create that way.” Lucifer started gathering his bags together. “But that’s what you need to find out: who had the most to gain from the fall of Archangel Michael?” He turned, a puzzled look on his face as he studied Felon’s expression. “Wait.” He pointed a tattered glove. “You didn’t know?” He punched one fist into the other and laughed. “Ah kid you’re in the big leagues and you didn’t even know.”
Felon’s mind traveled back to the scene. He had walked up to Travers’ condominium. He knew something was wrong the moment his mark let him in like he was expected, but it was too late to break off the attack. The big man was well over six feet, with good skin but was otherwise unremarkable. He asked: “What twist of clay dares scold me? Damn them for making me meet you.” The man had stepped up to Felon and whispered, “Love is not for humanity alone.”
Felon drew and fired into his face. The man changed with the first hit. As the bullets struck, his body reformed. An Angel nine feet tall stood there-his wings spanning twenty feet. He was wrapped in golden armor and swinging a flaming sword. The being roared-and the house shook. Felon emptied the clip into his face but the Angel completed his swing. The low roof caught most of the force. Only the tip of the blade pierced the assassin’s shoulder. Felon reloaded and fired into the Angel’s head while drawing a big. 44 magnum. The Angel howled again. Felon’s blood caught fire, and flame shot back down the sword. The Angel burst into a white blaze. After the thing evaporated the assassin checked the kitchen. The woman was dead. A stray bullet took her head off.
“You figure out who wanted Michael dead,” the Devil said, pulling him from reverie, “and you’ve got your man, or Angel, or Demon.
“Balg?” Felon’s spirit burned with anger.
“He’s powerful.” Lucifer nodded. “From the old Pantheon and ambitious enough.”
“Working with the Marquis,” Felon murmured.
“Also ambitious,” the Devil agreed. “And one of Michael’s.”
“Two families,” Felon said with a sigh. “Where’s God in all of this?”
“We don’t keep in touch.” Lucifer finished repacking his shopping cart. He pushed it toward the far tunnel, its wheels rattled.
Felon’s mind was ablaze with betrayal.
