The Seventh Seal
Johnny set the box of tools he'd borrowed from Charlie on the counter. "Ah," said the old man with a smile. "Get 'er fixed up?"
"As fixed as she'll ever be," Blaze sighed. "Thanks for letting me borrow these. I 'preciate it."
"No problem, son." He turned his eyes to the woman and young man standing behind him. "They with you?"
"Uh. Yeah. This is-" Johnny turned to introduce the two demons. "-uh. This is Blackh-uh. At. Cor. Cory. Cory Black, my uh . . ."
Blackheart crossed his arms and waited.
"My nephew. Girlfriend's nephew."
"Ah." Charlie nodded hesitantly. "Then I guess this pretty lady's yer girl?"
"Yeah, this is Lil. Lily. And uh, you can call me John."
"Well, John, seems to me you folks're lookin' to hightail it outta here, am I right?"
"You could say that," Blackheart murmured, earning him a worried glance from Charlie.
"Speaking of which," Blaze said, "you don't happen to know when the train comes through, do you?"
"You don't mean to hop it, do ya?"
"We don't really have a choice."
"Well. If ya gotta . . . It comes about 1:20 pm durin' the week, and around three in the mornin' on Saturday. Usually stops at the mail depot 'bout a quarter mile down the main road. Package deliveries and things like that. She don't stop for long, so you gotta move fast."
"Won't be a problem. Haven't got much to move." Johnny grasped the old man's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Thanks for all your help, Charlie."
"No problem, son. You kids take care now. I hear we gotta storm movin' this-a-way, so keep yerselves safe."
"We'll try," Blaze muttered. "Believe me."
† † †
The late afternoon sun beat down on the town and steam rose from the pavement. Last night's rainfall had filled the air with humidity, and anyone with an ounce of common sense was indoors, waiting out the heat of the day. Blackheart, though certainly in better condition than yesterday, was still exhausted and frail from his trials in Hell. He was fast asleep now, lying on the disheveled covers of the bed in the motel room.
"Why didn't he say something?" Johnny whispered to Lilith. "I didn't know he was still so run down."
"He still thinks you're the enemy, Johnny," she replied. "He's not going to tell you about his weaknesses. He's stubborn like that."
"Well he needs to stop playing Mr Tough Guy and just act normal. It's making things difficult for all of us. We can't drag his sleepy ass around with us when we leave here."
"He'll be better soon. I'll talk to him when he wakes up. He won't be a burden on us, I promise."
Johnny was quiet for a moment, staring at Blackheart's sleeping form. The pale skin of his lower back peeked out between the hem of his shirt and the top of his jeans, both amusing and oddly human. Blaze found himself hoping that the kid would pull through and go back to his evil ways. He didn't like this helpless new version of Blackheart; he was far too easy to like. And his doting mother wasn't helping sustain Johnny's hatred for the demon one bit. He had to remind himself of Mack and Roxanne to keep the pity from taking over his heart. But even then it was hard to do, because Mack and Roxanne had vanished from his future forever, and Blackheart was now half of all the people left in his life. And when everything was back to normal, when this hellish ordeal was finally ended, Blackheart would be out of Johnny's life, too. Just like everyone else.
Blaze looked away, and was surprised to find himself wishing otherwise.
† † †
It was pitch black outside, the wind having picked up since sundown. The stars above were hidden from view by clouds, and if it weren't for the lamps along the railroad tracks every twenty yards or so, they would all be blind. Well, one-third of them at least. Blackheart and Lilith seemed to see fine in the night, and they watched the Western Pacific train engine come squealing to a slow, heavy halt.
"Okay, move!" Johnny hissed, and the three figures darted behind the last car, coming up around on the other side of the train to avoid notice. They ran along the length of the train, looking for a convenient place to stow themselves.
"Here, this one!" Lilith whispered.
The door to one of the boxcars was open slightly, and Johnny trotted his motorcycle over to it. "Okay, Cory," he muttered, "lower the plank."
Blackheart sneered at his new nickname but propped the wide wooden board he had been carrying onto the edge of the boxcar. Lilith did the same with the one she carried, and Blaze eased the bike up the makeshift ramp, the bike on one plank and himself on another. Once he got the thing safely inside, he propped it against some feed sacks and went to the door to help Lilith climb in.
The train whistle blew just as he grasped her hand. Slowly the train began to move, the boards clattering down. "Shit!" Johnny cursed. "Hold on, Lilith!"
"Damn it!" she muttered, trotting to keep up with the squealing, clunking boxcar.
"Take my hand, that's it." Blaze gasped her with both hands and pulled. "Watch your legs now watch your legs!"
Lilith scrambled, kicking her legs dangerously close to the wheels, then landed with a bang on the floor of the car. She let out a pain-filled yelp and rolled over onto her back. The train was really beginning to move now, and the whistle screamed loudly through the night.
"Mother!" Blackheart yelled, first jogging then running to keep up. "Wait! Stop this thing!"
"I can't, baby!" she cried, crawling over to the edge of the car. "Johnny, do something!"
Blaze hung onto the side of the door and reached out toward Blackheart. "Grab my arm! Hurry!"
Blackheart's hand touched Johnny's fingertips and slid away. The train was rumbling faster, and the demon was already falling behind, his fatigue overtaking him.
"Try again!" Johnny ordered through clenched teeth. "Come on, you can do it!"
Blackheart lunged but his grasp failed again, sweaty hands slipping against one another. He slowed a little, his shoulders slumping with defeat.
"Don't you give up, you son of a bitch!" Blaze screamed, hoping to incite him with insults. "Now grab my hand or I'll fuck your mother! Come on!"
The demon let out a challenging snarl and broke into a sprint, catching up once more. The train whistle howled as it continued to speed up.
"Come on, grab hold! Don't limp-wrist it, you pussy! GRAB ME LIKE A MAN!"
Blackheart screamed and threw himself forward, wrapping his fingers around Johnny's wrist. The man yanked for all he was worth, and one second later Blackheart came crashing down on top of him, slamming his nose right into Johnny's forehead.
Lilith shouted for joy as the two let out simultaneous groans of pain. Blackheart sat up, both hands clasped to his bleeding nose. "Fucking hell," he moaned, too caught up with his injury to notice he was sitting squarely on Johnny's hips. Blood seeped out from between his pale fingers, running down his knuckles in rivulets.
"Atrocor, what happened? Come here, let me see-"
Blackheart crawled off Blaze, who let out an "oof!" as the demon toed him in the ribs with those damned cowboy boots. Johnny sat up and put a hand to his forehead, which came away with a streak of Blackheart's blood on it. He wiped it on his shirt. That kid had a beak like the Rock of Gibraltar. Johnny was surprised it hadn't done more damage, hard as it was. He looked across the shadows of the rocking boxcar. Lilith was crouched beside her son, wiping the blood from his face. Blackheart looked more annoyed than injured, and resisted her fussing over him. "I'm fine, Mother. It'll stop soon."
"It had better," she huffed. "I can't have you becoming even weaker from blood loss."
"I'll be fine. Just leave it alone, it hurts when you touch it."
Blaze had to grin. A mother's worry seemed universal, and Blackheart was all too aware how ridiculous he looked: a grown demon being fussed over like a child. He at last escaped from her ministrations and retreated to a dark corner of the boxcar to sulk.
Johnny let out a grateful sigh and took off his leather jacket. The breeze blowing in from the door was cool and pleasant, and he folded his jacket against some feed sacks and settled against them comfortably. His body was sore all over from his adventures for the past two days, and his hand still tingled where he had wiped away Blackheart's blood. He hated the feeling of it on his skin, as if it were laced with poisoned chemicals and evil or some other thing that can't be good for you.
But Blaze thought, Fuck it. I'll probably be covered with his blood before this thing is over.
He threaded his fingers together over his belly and closed his eyes, falling asleep to the clacking of the wheels and the rumble of the car.
In the shadows across the way, Blackheart's nose finally stopped bleeding; he wiped the last streak of it on his forearm, and looked down to see every exposed inch of his skin smeared with red. He frowned, twisting the silver ring off of his pinky and cleaning it with the bottom of his shirt. He spat on it to make it shine, rubbed it some more, and slid it back on.
Lilith watched her son in the dark, a faint smile on her lips. After a few moments she crawled over to where he sat. "I'm sorry for coddling you," she apologized. "I've always been guilty of that."
Blackheart turned to look at her, and a rare smile — a true smile exuding kindness and compassion — curved his mouth, making him suddenly look handsome and mature. "Don't be sorry. I actually kind of miss it."
Lilith turned her gaze to her lap, not wanting her son to see the sorrow in her eyes. "Why did you challenge your father, Atrocor? You knew it would only make him angry."
"I had to," Blackheart answered, grasping his mother's hand. "I needed the power of San Venganza. How else could I get you back?"
"I was a lost cause, you know that."
"You were only banished. I could have restored your power in Hell and overthrown Father."
"You should have forgotten me," she whispered, unable to dam the tears in her eyes; they spilled over her white cheeks. "You would have never faced Mephisto's wrath if you had forgotten me."
"It was a risk I was willing to take." Blackheart smiled through the darkness. "I love you, Mother."
Lilith shook her head. "Don't say that, Atrocor. You know it's impossible."
"Why? Because we're demons?"
"You know why. Whatever we think we feel is just a twisted form of the real thing."
"So what is real love?" Blackheart demanded.
Lilith reached out and cupped her son's cheek. "Oh baby," she sniffed. "It's what I felt when you first opened your eyes."
† † †
Malinda watched her father speak to a group of five demons, each one approaching his throne in succession with an item wrapped in white cloth. Beside her the Beast lay its crocodilian head, snorting loudly as it breathed, nostrils flaring. Its eyes had become swollen and infected, permanently blinded from the wretched mortal sand that had been thrown into them. The little girl stroked its rough reptilian hide with her small hand, and listened to the words of the demons:
"We bring five of the Seven Seals, my lord," said one, bowing low before Mephistopheles.
"Only five?" came the reply, and Mephisto stared down at his servants with disapproval. "I asked for seven. Where are the rest?"
"We tried valiantly to find all of them, sire," said the demon. "The Heavenly Host has hidden them well, and each seal is guarded by an angel of high order. Many of our forces were destroyed trying to obtain these treasures. That you should receive five instead of fewer is testimony to our perseverance."
Mephisto glared. "Very well. What seals were you able to retrieve?"
The demons one by one lay their parcels at the foot of the throne. "We have taken the Crown of Mercy, my lord, and the Mirror of Wisdom, the Goblet of Benevolence, the Scales of Justice, and the Shield of Faith. And the Sword of Valor is being delivered as we speak."
"And what of the Circle of Fidelity?"
The demons glanced at one another nervously before their leader spoke: "We cannot find it. Not even the angels we defeated knew of its whereabouts, and we tortured them unto death to get their confessions."
"Then look for it," Mephisto snapped, rising from his throne. "Search the Earth. Kill all who stand in your way, and leave no trace. If the Host discovers our plans to bring forth the Apocalypse, they will fight back." He smiled coldly. "And I can't have them distracting my daughter from her work." He turned to regard Malinda, and the demons bowed low before her when the realized who she was.
"Forgive us, my lord. We didn't know the Child was present. She seems quite young — is she powerful enough to challenge the Host?"
Mephisto smiled at his daughter. "Show them your power, my dear."
Malinda nodded and stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt in a very childlike way. But then she went rigid and still, and she stretched her hand before her. There came a deafening crack, like thunder striking directly overhead, and a jagged vein tore across the ice, splitting into two cracks, then four, then eight. The demons cowered in fear as great pillars of black ice rose up from beneath, bringing with them the screaming souls of traitors forever damned. The dragon rose up behind the little girl and spread its black, horn-studded wings wide. The entire realm began to quake, and echoes of screams from the Circles above were heard.
"I think that's enough, Malinda. Thank you."
Abruptly the shaking stopped, and the stalagmites of ice began to retreat into the floor once more, taking their prisoners with them. The beast settled down onto all four legs and purred hideously as the girl began to pet its snout.
Mephisto turned to give the trembling demons a smug look. "I believe that answers your question."
"Y-yes, my lord. We shall seek out the Circle at once."
"Don't forget our plans for the Sword," he warned, clutching his cane with both hands. "My daughter will need a strong blade to slaughter the Archangels."
† † †
Something woke Blackheart; his eyes opened with a start and he couldn't remember where he was for a moment. It was shadowy all around, except for the dark blue sky just beyond the open door of the boxcar. A silhouette sat on the edge, legs dangling over the side. It was Blaze.
Blackheart crossed his arms over his rebel flag shirt, now spattered with dried blood, and tried to go back to sleep. He was restless, however, and his feet hurt. He sat up and wrenched off the hard, pointy boots.
"You should get a medal."
Blackheart looked up. Johnny had spoken. "Why?" he asked.
"For running to catch a train . . . in cowboy boots." He turned to give the demon a lighthearted smirk. "How's your nose?"
"Fine," Blackheart muttered, mirroring the sly expression. "How's your forehead?"
"I think you gave me a concussion."
"It's not my fault your tiny brain had all that room to bounce around."
"And it's entirely my fault that I didn't leave your ass behind. Boy'm I sorry." Johnny winked so fast that Blackheart almost didn't catch it — a sign that the comment wasn't truly hostile.
The young demon decided that sleep was an impossibility now and crawled over to sit on the edge of the car. He watched the dark blur of dirt and weeds pass swiftly between his socks. Beyond the immediate ground a wasteland of desert and low mountains rolled slowly by. And beyond that, the stars twinkled, unmoving. Beside him, Blaze was eating something that looked like marbles. "What's that?" he asked.
"Blueberries," Johnny answered, and held out the plastic bag toward him. "Got 'em from the diner before we left. Want some?"
Blackheart wrinkled his nose. "What do they taste like?"
"Blueberries, genius. If they tasted like dogshit they'd be called dogshit."
"Don't snap at me, bonehead."
"You want some or not?"
"Yeah."
"Well then shut your trap and get some already."
Blackheart hesitantly reached into the bag and drew out a plump berry. He studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Blaze watched him out of the corner of his eye. He chewed twice and then stopped. His eyes began watering. Johnny turned to look at him, and for one terrible second he thought Blackheart was going to projectile vomit pea soup like that crazy scene from The Exorcist.
But he didn't throw up; his eyes brimmed full with tears that suddenly tumbled down his pale cheeks, and a true, genuine smile fought and struggled its way onto his lips. He chewed a few more times, savoring the sweet tartness, and swallowed. He licked his lips and then looked at Blaze, who said nothing and remained still.
"They're good," Blackheart whispered, blinking rapidly. He cracked a full grin. "They're really good."
Johnny smiled and held out the bag again.
† † †
Metal squealed on metal as the train ground to a halt. Johnny woke up before they had stopped moving. Sunlight streamed in through the door. Beyond it he saw a train yard with its rows of connected cars and flatbeds, crisscrossing tracks and gravel, and in the distance tall buildings stood out against a red sky with grey clouds. He rubbed his eyes, feeling that he knew this skyline.
Across the car Lilith rose and blinked sleepily. "Where are we?" she murmured, stretching her arms above her head.
"I could be wrong, but it looks like Phoenix," Blaze answered, standing up and brushing himself off. "Finally. Some good news." He went to the bike and took it by the handlebars. "We better get off before anyone sees us. Might be a good time to wake up the Kiddo."
Lilith rolled over and shook her son's shoulder gently. "Wake up, sweetie. It's time to get moving."
Blackheart grumbled exactly like a surly teenager being woken for school on Monday morning, but he eventually listened to his mother. He sat up blearily and pulled on his boots.
"I'm gonna need help getting this scrap heap outta here," Blaze said, maneuvering his bike to the door. "Give me a hand, Blackheart."
The demon stood outside and helped Johnny ease the motorcycle onto the ground. It landed with a heavy thunk, and something loose rattled in it, but it remained intact. A few minutes later the trio headed out of the train yard, toward the bustling metropolis.
They had no idea that they were being watched from a nearby rooftop. And then, with the passing wind, the dark figure had vanished.
† † †
"She's pretty beat up," the mechanic confirmed, wiping his greasy hands on his coveralls.
"I know," Blaze said, trying not to be short with the man. "I just need an estimate."
The fat little man who looked an awful lot like a toad pursed his lips, staring at Johnny's bike. "New cylinder, new rear wheel, new brake pads and discs, new tank, new friction plate for the clutch, full oil and lube, back tire replacement . . . Yer lookin' at about six to nine hundred."
Johnny turned with a grim face to Lilith. "I've got seven bucks. Any ideas?"
"Let me talk to him," she said, an eerie spark burning in her eyes as she looked over Blaze's shoulder at the chubby mechanic, who smiled bashfully. "I'll see if we can work out a deal."
"Lilith," Johnny said warningly.
"I'm not going to kill him," she whispered chidingly. "We need him to fix the bike, after all. Give me fifteen minutes." She smiled broadly and pushed past Blaze, approaching the toady man. "Randy," she said, reading his nametag, "I'm Lily Black. This bike belonged to my father, may he rest in peace, and we came all the way from Texas . . ." Her voice faded as she and Randy disappeared into the noisy garage.
Blackheart stepped to Johnny's side. "I hate it when she does that," he muttered, hands in his pockets.
"She's pretty good at convincing men to do stupid things," Blaze replied, giving Blackheart a smirk. "She got me to go to Hell, after all."
The demon arched his eyebrow at Johnny and let out a single chuckle. "She likes taking advantage of morons."
"Ouch. Your wit cuts me like a saber, Blackheart."
"You should see me when I'm actually trying. I'm deadly."
"You talk a big game, kiddo. I think you did that right before I kicked your ass in San Venganza."
"You got lucky," Blackheart muttered, his shame emerging.
"I'm not lucky."
"Then what do you call it?"
"Reckless endangerment. Complete disregard for self-preservation."
"Big words, Blaze."
"I read."
They wandered out of the garage and stared at the bright Arizona morning. Blackheart grimaced and shielded his eyes. "You got any more of those blueberries?"
"No." Blaze paused. "Why, do you like 'em?"
"Yeah. Mortal food never really did it for me, but those things . . ." Blackheart trailed off, watching a man — who he didn't remember seeing there a moment ago — approach from across the street, carrying something wrapped tightly in a white cloth. "Heads up, Blaze," he breathed. "Something's not right."
The man stopped on the sidewalk in front of Johnny and Blackheart. He was young, mid-thirties, and his skin was a deep bronze. His goatee was short, neatly trimmed, and his brown hair was tied behind his head in a ponytail. He wore a strange suit: loose-fitting pants and a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, with a vest that seemed foreign. He looked from Blackheart to Blaze before settling his piercing gaze upon the former.
"Atrocor daemon," the stranger addressed, "princeps Haides?"
Blackheart straightened, his face pale with worry. "Etiam, sum," he answered in Latin. "I am he. Who are you?"
The man stood back and pulled the cloth from the object he was carrying. A long, gleaming sword emerged, blade catching the light of the sun and blinding both Johnny and Blackheart. Reflections danced off of the brick buildings nearby, and time seemed to cease passing.
"I am the Angel Rizfadael," the stranger stated, taking a menacing step forward. Man and demon recoiled in awe as a pair of brilliant white wings unfolded from the angel's back. "And I have come to deliver Death."
Something painful shot through Johnny's arm, and when he looked down he saw that Blackheart was holding onto it with both hands. The demon was wide-eyed, legs shaking and utterly terrified. "No," he stammered. "Please, mercy!"
With fluid movements the angel sank down upon one knee and bowed his head, holding the sword horizontally as an offering to the demon.
Blackheart's grip loosened on Blaze's arm. "What is this?" he demanded. "Some kind of trick?"
"The Host is aware of the situation that faces you," Rizfadael said, lifting his head. "We are prepared to ally with you to halt the untimely Armageddon."
"Halt it? You mean it's already begun?"
"Yes. Your father has seeded a mortal's womb with his offspring, and the Child is now poised to overthrow the mortal world."
"Oh fuck," Johnny moaned. "We're too late."
Rizfadael stared at Blackheart. "Take the Sword of Valor, Atrocor."
The demon shook his head. "I have no powers to wield it. I'm not a holy being."
"You may be fallen, but still you are an angel. Take the Sword, Atrocor, and guard it well. Mephistopheles already possesses six of the Seven Seals, and with each seal the Child grows stronger."
Blackheart slowly reached out with both hands and lifted the heavy sword, then held it by its golden hilt. He still looked frightened and confused. "It's impossible," he said as Rizfadael stood to his feet. "I'm trying to escape from my father's forces. Belial himself is after us."
"Now you have something with which to fight him," the angel said sharply. "The Host cannot yet help you — we have larger matters to attend to. All you must do is stay alive, Atrocor, and do not let the Sword fall into the wrong hands. You will have Heaven's allegiance in the end." His wings folded behind his back and disappeared, and time seemed to resume its normal pace.
"What's in it for me?" Blackheart asked, narrowing his eyes doubtfully. "What if I don't agree to keep the Sword?"
Rizfadael grinned thinly. "I am sure you and your mother would enjoy an eternity in the Lake of Fire."
"Nice try," the demon snapped, "but I've already been to Hell."
The angel continued to smile ruthlessly. "True . . . But who do you think shall rule it when your father is overthrown?"
Blackheart shut his mouth and swallowed dryly.
"You will speak of this meeting to no one," Rizfadael warned, beginning to fade into a thin mist. "Stay alive, Atrocor. You and your fiery friend." And then he was gone.
Johnny turned to stare at Blackheart with numb disbelief. "What just happened?"
"We were visited by an angel," the demon murmured, admiring the sword he held. "I never thought . . ."
Blaze crouched down and put his hands over his face, strung out to the max, and it wasn't even 10:00 yet. "God I need some jellybeans."
Blackheart lowered himself onto the sidewalk and cradled the sword on his legs. "I could use some blueberries myself."
Johnny reached out and put a hand on Blackheart's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. "You're gonna be the death of me, kiddo. One way or another."
† † †
Malinda was in the middle of her training, pitted against four gruesome-looking arch-demons, armed with spears and shields. With speed and inhuman agility, the little girl, armed with nothing, avoided their attacks and delivered deadly blows from her tiny hands, sometimes in the form of physical strikes, sometimes with rippling waves of energy. Skulls cracked. Bones broke. Black blood spilled across the floor. Mephisto was watching with amusement when a pale mist materialized beside him.
"Were you successful, Rizfadael?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the sparring.
"Yes, my lord," the traitorous angel replied. "They were easy enough to find."
"And Belial's forces?"
"They are searching for the Seventh Seal now, as you ordered."
"Good. And Belial?"
"He will come upon them within a day. He knows nothing of the Sword, or the deception."
"Hmm." Mephisto murmured to himself. "Tell me, Rizfadael, do you think Blackheart is capable of killing Belial?"
"He seemed weak and mortal, my lord, but with the Sword he should succeed. I believe he has befriended the Ghost Rider, so he has an ally."
"Splendid. It ought to be a fine show."
The last demon fell defeated, and Malinda gave a girlish curtsy toward her father.
Mephisto smiled and applauded. "Excellent, my dear! Very admirable."
She smiled and stepped over the mutilated bodies, skipping off to play with her new pet.
Mephisto leaned close to the angel and muttered, "Are they aware that I have only five of the seals?"
"No, sire. I told them you had six, as you asked."
"Good. Then they'll have no reason to look for the seventh." He smiled evilly. "Things are going well, don't you think? Belial will be destroyed by Blackheart, omitting him from the ranks of my most powerful, and Malinda will take his place. Heaven knows nothing of the impending Apocalypse, and my foolish son has fallen directly into my trap. When he has served his purpose I will destroy him myself." He paused. "Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to pit brother against sister . . ."
He trailed off, his sentence ending with a peal of sadistic laughter.
