Leviticus and Mestoph were in another one of their hypnomancy meetings, only this time they had included everyone else in their little group.
“Yes, I’m a Demon,” said Mestoph. “I do bad things for a living. Lying is one of them.”
They had gone around in circles for the last ten minutes over what was a very minor detail when it came down to it. No one had any objection to his actions thus far, although only Leviticus knew all of them, but they now questioned his motivations. “They” meaning mostly Marcus. Mestoph now realized that Stephanie had been right to withhold that bit of information. He couldn’t help it that he was the spawn of the greatest demon in Hell short of Satan—a detail he was most definitely not sharing with this group. He did the job he was born into, as much because of expectations as the fact that there wasn’t an alternative. The only reason his father Mephisto had been allowed to retire was because of his eons of top-notch work and the fact that he had a successor in Mestoph. It didn’t matter if the successor was more interested in sipping Mai Tais at a tropical resort.
“What the Hell do Mai Tais have to do with it?” asked Marcus.
Mestoph looked up, startled. He had been lost in thought and didn’t realize he had been talking out loud. He really hoped his propensity for fruity cocktails was the only thing he had let slip. He began mumbling something about life being like a Mai Tai, trying to cover his slip, when Stephanie spoke up.
“What does it matter which side of the tracks he comes from? I’m a barista and you’re a computer nerd; what gives us the right to judge him? Maybe being a demon is what allows him to make the hard decisions. He did what had to be done.”
Marcus opened his mouth to make a counterpoint, but none came to mind. That was about the time the guilt finally hit Mestoph. The demon looked at Leviticus, but the Angel was staring at the ground. He had been noticeably silent, and Mestoph thought he understood why. Leviticus was still an Angel, and everything they had done was against his nature. Even if it was a nature he tried desperately to shrug off. Leviticus hadn’t said anything about it, but this had to have been eating at him from the beginning, the whole using humans for their own gain.
Guilt was a new feeling for Mestoph, and it hit him hard. It was with equal surprise and confusion when he realized he was crying. He wasn’t even sure what it was at first; after all, real demons don’t feel guilt and they certainly didn’t cry. He marveled for a moment at the emotions that washed over him. He observed it like a rare animal in captivity; the way the tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and then when they were heavy and full, the tears hurtled down his face and dripped off the edge of his chin into a blooming splotch on his shirt.
“We used you,” Mestoph sobbed.
This was met with silence, except for the rushing off blood in Mestoph’s head. Leviticus stared wide eyed at him while the humans looked confused. Stephanie looked like she was about to speak, but Marcus held up his hand to keep her silent. He didn’t want the moment to fade; he felt he was about to be vindicated in his anti-Demon argument.
“There was never a conspiracy to kill you. We used you to get something we wanted, and things just went horribly, horribly wrong,” said Mestoph.
Marcus and Stephanie looked at Mestoph and then Leviticus. Leviticus didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t look either of them in the eye and had a guilty grimace on his face. It was as damning as a confession. Finally, Leviticus sighed and spoke up.
“Mestoph, I think it’s time we got some help. It’s gone too far now, it’s time to end it,” he said. “Teleport out of here and summon the cavalry.”
Mestoph flashed a car salesmen smile, but it faded to the look of a kid who had been caught with his finger in the cake. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to say something about that.”
“You can’t teleport,” said Leviticus. “I should have known it all along.”
“Not since Truth or Consequences. I’m pretty sure I winged St. Peter during that shootout at Hitler’s.”
“Well, now I think we’re seriously fucked,” said Sir Regi.
The pounding silence returned. Then, like a cat, Stephanie cleared the distance between her and Mestoph and pounced, knocking him backwards. Mestoph lay on his back with Stephanie on his chest, pinning him in a low wrestling mount and pummeling him with her balled-up fists. Mestoph tried to block the blows to his face but didn’t put up any more of a defense than that. Leviticus was closest and quickest to react; he ran up behind her to tried and pull her off. Without hesitating she punched Leviticus square in the balls.
For those who have never been kicked in the balls, whether you’ve lived a remarkably sheltered life of non-violence up in Heaven or you lack the appropriate equipment, it’s an excruciating and debilitating thing. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pacifist wimp or a badass mixed martial artists; a swift hit to the cojones will wipe you out. The first time is always the worst, because nothing in life prior to that moment has prepared you for such an intense and sickening pain. It is probably the closest a man can ever come to knowing the pain of child birth. For an Angel who had gone over a thousand years without a cup check or a bean bag to the coin purse, it was a horrific wake up call.
With both Mestoph and Leviticus’s concentration broken, everyone was ejected from the hypnomancy bubble. They were returned to a world where they were plastered to the floor by Odin’s powers, which made the events inside the bubble manifest oddly in reality. Marcus sat staring, as dumbfounded now as he had been in the bubble. Mestoph was on the floor with blood running from his nose. Leviticus was rolling on his side, gagging and guarding his crotch as he moaned incoherently. Stephanie was still enraged, trying her best to fight Odin’s bonds and get to Mestoph again.
“We’re going to fucking die, you asshole!” she screamed.
By this point Odin had been joined in the war council by two more gods, Freyr and Thor, as well as three buxom and brawny Valkyries with large pairs of white wings folded behind. All of them turned at the sudden outburst from the group, which had been remarkably quiet until then. The two ravens on Odin’s shoulders cawed and scattered to the ledge of the window in the dome. Brynhildr the Valkyrie smiled approvingly at the girl’s fire.
“Put some meat on that one and she’d make a fine warrior, don’t you think, Kara?” she said to the Valkyrie next to her. Kara just raised her brows in response, clearly not as impressed as Brynhildr. The third Valkyrie, Mist, looked at Stephanie with more than just admiration of her battle prowess.
Odin looked down at the group with the face of a disappointed father, his hair fluttering from an unseen wind that didn’t seem to affect anyone else. Mestoph wondered if the god was vain enough that he conjured wind to constantly tousle his hair. He smiled at the thought until Odin forcefully gestured at them, sending them all tumbling and rolling around on the ground toward the wall of windows. Odin clenched the hand into a fist and everyone stuck fast to the ground again, their backs to the windows. He then stuck out his index finger and swiped it once from left to right. Their mouths closed, and they found themselves unable to speak.
“Silence,” he commanded.
Odin then sat down and began speaking again to Thor as if nothing had happened. Thor had the look of someone listening intently, though he kept spinning a large, awkward looking hammer in his hand. The legendary Mjolnir, looked like someone had stuck a large, intricately detailed curved anvil on the end of an equally ornate slab of metal for a handle. The base of the handle flared out into another smaller anvil, also curved, giving it an overall circular shape. Whoever had made it seemed to have decided to call it a hammer since it didn’t look like anything else. In reality it shared as much in common with a Frisbee as it did a hammer. The shape did look like it would be a great thrown weapon for someone who had the strength to toss it further than his feet—someone like Thor.
Thor stood tall along with the rest of the gods and was rippling with muscles, though his arms seemed far more defined than the rest of his body. He stood bare-chested, wearing only a long loincloth that looked like a kilt without the tartan pattern. He looked like he had oiled himself up just prior to walking in the room. He also kept tossing his long, free flowing red hair behind his shoulders as he talked. It looked like something straight out of a shampoo commercial. Kara gave Thor the “tall, cool drink of water,” top-to-bottom look.
Standing in stark contrast next to Thor was Freyr, who was easily the shortest and leanest of the gods present, easily outweighed by Brynhildr and possibly even Kara. Freyr wasn’t a weakling by any means; he just didn’t seem to spend as much time at the gym as the other gods. His hair was shorter, coming just below his ears, but it was bushier and less carefully coiffed than any of the others. Freyr was also the only god present who wasn’t armed with anything; not a fancy, legendary weapon nor even an old butter knife.
The gods and Valkyries resumed their discussion in earnest. Persephone and the shepherd whispered quietly but emphatically to each other, while Stephanie burned Mestoph and Leviticus with hateful looks. The moments dragged by slowly as they all waited for something to happen.
When it finally did, things happened too fast for anyone to take it all in. The only warning, a second before chaos ensued, was when Mim, the head that had been hovering there quietly on the pedestal next to Odin, spoke.
“The sun and moon have been swallowed,” Mim announced.
The elevator platform burst into the air and shot through the window of the dome. It flew into the distance, never to be seen again. Rising through the hole left in its absence was an enormous snake. It burst into the room, ramming head first into Thor and then out the nearest window of the tower, taking the thunder god with it. Loki and Fenrir, riding the giant snake, jumped off Jormundgar’s back just in time to avoid sharing Thor’s fate. Although he arrived in human form, Fenrir immediately transformed into a large wolf and lunged at Odin. The All-Father jumped up from his throne and over the charging wolf, conjuring a spear in midair and cutting a twist flip to land on his feet.
“Do as you must. Fulfill your prophecies,” he commanded the other gods, and then he turned back to face the wolf.
Tyr conjured a new spear and then he and Freyr, who was still unarmed, ran at the windows behind them and jumped through the glass, diving down like they were about to land in a pool. The three Valkyries jumped after them, spreading their wings like diving falcons. Brynhildr and Mist caught the two gods while the Kara swooped to the ground where there was a waiting host of hundreds of Valkyrie and thousands of human warriors. Her curly read hair streamed behind her wildly, and she wore the face of an enraged animal.
Mestoph and the others had no choice but to sit quietly and watch everything that was going on, but Persephone screamed. Even the comforting embrace of her beloved shepherd couldn’t seem to calm her. Odin and Heimdall fought bitterly, but they were remarkably evenly matched. Despite outweighing the All-Father and having four sets of claws and ferocious jaws, Fenrir found himself in a stalemate against Odin’s spear. Fenrir would slash at Odin with a claw and Odin would jump back, over or even roll under the swiping paw. When Fenrir would snap at Odin, he would find himself blocked or smacked by Odin’s spear.
Heimdall and Loki were in the middle of an old-fashioned sword fight that had them dancing around the gaping hole the missing elevator had left behind. They both wielded beautiful, though mythologically insignificant, swords that looked similar to Roman spathae. Heimdall fought one-handed without a shield, while Loki used a small, round, wooden shield a little less than three feet across, painted black with a gold rune that looked like a pointy letter B. It already had several slashes and a few chunks missing from the edges. Loki managed to turn a blow wildly to the side with the shield and spun in around to land a slice on Heimdall’s right side. It cut through Heimdall’s leather overcoat and tunic to reveal a chainmail shirt that went down to mid-thigh. Several rings split and bounced onto the hard floor.
Mestoph wondered if Ragnarok took years because the fights never ended. As soon as he had settled in to what was likely to be a long wait, it became apparent that something was happening outside the tower that was more than just the warriors of Valhalla fighting the warriors of Hel. At first the vibrations were subtle, but with repetition they became closer and more jarring. Just when it seemed the pounding would topple the tower, a figure climbed up the chain that had previously held the elevator platform aloft. It appeared to be another god, though not one they had seen before. The god kicked out his legs to make the chain swing closer to the lip of the hole, which is when everyone noticed that one of the god’s legs was encased in an iron platform shoe, as if it was shorter than the other leg.
The god swung over far enough and let go of the chain, jumping onto the floor with a loud clank from his iron shoe. Mestoph and Leviticus braced themselves, but nothing happened. The god looked down at the group of humans with a confused and amused look. Then there was a shaking so violent that the remaining unbroken windows instantly shattered. The short-legged god put his arms out to keep his balance, the metal shoe clanking as he stumbled. There was another earthquake, and then a giant flaming head that looked like it was made of charred wood appeared outside the window behind Metal Shoe.
“Jötunn!” shouted Metal Shoe.
“Titan!” shouted Persephone.
“Fuck!” shouted the shepherd.
Loki smiled at the sight of Surtr and then laughed maniacally behind his shield as Odin let out a string of angry-sounding Norse that was likely some kind of vile curse. Heimdall made a grunting noise but never let up on his assault against Loki, who still laughed even as his shield took a beating. None of the fighting gods stopped to do more than acknowledge the giant staring in the window, seeming to know better than Mestoph and the others what his role in Ragnarok would be. Heimdall and Loki did spin out of the way when the Jötunn smashed his hand through a couple of support columns, which made the part of the dome they supported sag and begin to crumble away. The Jötunn shoved his hand into the center of the room, nearly knocking Metal Shoe over, and opened his hand palm up. Standing in Surtr’s burning palm was Hades, nestled away inside his protective bubble and still glimmering with the blue sparks Loki had imbued him with. Hades and his bubble floated up a few feet, and then the Jötunn pulled his hand back out of the throne room, taking another column with it and causing a quarter of the dome to collapse. Most of the debris tumbled down the outside of the tower or into the long elevator shaft. With his package delivered, Surtr appeared to let go of the tower. Seconds later there was a short but violent earthquake.
Hades floated in his bubble above the emptiness of the shaft in the center of the room and smiled as he looked around the top of the tower. He spotted Persephone, who had gone silent with a look of absolute terror on her face. His smile took a sinister turn when he locked eyes with his wife, and then he floated over toward her, the gods still fighting in the background and paying him no attention. He floated the bubble to just a few feet away from Persephone and stopped, looking down at her smugly. The two wolves that guarded her rose to their feet and began to growl.
“You know, I have a three-headed dog named Cerberus that would love to play with you two,” Hades said to the wolves.
The wolves backed down and left Persephone with only the shepherd to protect her. He jumped in front of her and looked up at Hades defiantly.
“Ah, and you must be my darling wife’s lover. I’ll take you both and sort this out later,” said Hades.
Hades waved his hands like a magician showing his audience there were no strings making an item levitate, and a bubble formed around both Persephone and the shepherd. Hades turned and his bubble began floating out of the gaping hole that Surtr had left behind, the smaller bubble containing Persephone and the shepherd following like an obedient dog. Persephone looked back to Mestoph and his group with a pleading look, but they were unable to help. Metal Shoe watched with the kind of interest someone has when visiting the zoo and then shrugged. He looked at the others to see if they were going to do any tricks, but when they didn’t even move, he turned his attention to the battles that had continued uninterrupted.
Odin took a forceful slash from Fenrir’s claws and staggered back. His robes were in ribbons, and the blue fabric was stained red. Odin caught himself with the spear, but he was severely off balance and realized immediately his mistake. Metal Shoe also realized what was about to happen and took off running toward Odin.
“Father!”
Odin turned to Metal Shoe and smiled. “Avenge me, Vidar,” he said as Fenrir lunged, his monstrous mouth open wide, baring all his teeth. Fenrir turned his head sideways and snapped his jaws down on Odin’s midsection, cracking the spear he held himself up with. His teeth sank deep into Odin’s chest, and blood spurted from a dozen wounds. The wolf tossed Odin into the air, opened his mouth wide, and swallowed Odin whole.
As simple as that, Odin was gone. Vidar stopped in his tracks, his metal shoe sliding noisily before coming to a halt. Fenrir let loose a howl so loud that Heimdall stopped with his sword raised high above his head. Both he and Loki momentarily forgot their fight and looked to find the source of the noise. Loki realized that Odin’s absence meant the wolf had finally won his battle, and he began laughing hysterically, jumping up and down in excitement. Heimdall turned to Loki and grunted as he dropped his sword and charged like a linebacker at Loki’s raised shield. The impact took Loki by surprise, and he stumbled backward. The two of them went over the edge of the tower and disappeared.
The howling shook Vidar from his shock, and he took off running toward the baying wolf. He grabbed the wolf by his substantial head and jerked it down, slamming it into the floor. Fenrir was dazed and his mouth hung open, tongue lolling out to the side. Vidar looked down at the wolf’s open mouth and then at his giant metal shoe with an expression on his face like he had just realized why he’d been put on this world. A giant smile overtook Vidar’s face and the god stomped the metal foot down on the inside of Fenrir’s lower jaw, smashing the teeth. He then grabbed the wolf’s upper jaw and pulled. His muscles strained, as he began to shake with the effort, but at last there was a popping noise like a cork from a champagne bottle and Fenrir’s head split in two. There was an ear-piercing boom and brilliant flash as a bolt of lightning struck the top of the tower, sending a spider web of cracks running along the obsidian dome and causing new chunks to fall off from the damaged portion where Surtr had punched through.
“Sweet baby Jesus!” shouted Marcus, as he reared back.
Marcus then looked astonished at his sudden ability to speak again. Leviticus tried to stand up and found he was no longer restrained. With Odin’s death, his bonds had broken and now they were all free. Mestoph got to his feet and helped Marcus and Stephanie rise as well. In the rush of events, they had temporarily forgotten their anger and didn’t protest. He then walked to the edge of the tower and looked out over the battle below. What he saw was a full-out war. Despite the great height, everything was clearly visible as if they were only a few hundred feet above the plain below. There were still dozens of Jötnar towering over human warriors intermixed with Valkyries, who would slay an opponent on the ground and then launch in a small group to attack a Jötunn. The gloomy warriors of Hel stayed close to the Jötnar, some a bit too close as they were squished by a giant. Hel’s fighters were the old, infirm, or the warriors not deemed glorious enough to enter Valhalla, so they were mostly just fodder anyways.
Spread across the battlefield were also a few pairs of gods fighting each other. Heimdall and Loki had resumed their fight after their fall from the tower, trading blows back and forth in a match that was still brutally even. Meanwhile Freyr, still unarmed, was grappling with Surtr, who couldn’t get a good swing at the agile god as he darted in and around the giant’s legs. Freyr tackled one of Surtr’s legs and with immense strength he managed to pull it out from under him, toppling the fiery Jötunn and taking out dozens of combatants on both sides of the fight in the crash. Thor was locked in a coil of the giant snake’s body and bashing at the sinuous creature with his hammer, sending sparks flying from the metallic scales.
Lightning struck the tower again and the floor cracked. Lightning began striking the battlefield, taking out people and creatures indiscriminately. Then lightning struck Heimdall’s cabin, sending giant splinters of wood shooting in all directions like arrows and impaling anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. There was a loud clanking noise as Bifrost began to extend out across the chasm; the controls of the bridge had been in Heimdall’s cabin, and having been destroyed, the large counterweights in freefall were extending the bridge. The swarm of Nephilim and Seraphim squawked in frenzied excitement as they saw their chance to enter Asgard.
“We better get out of here,” said Mestoph
There was another bolt of lightning that struck the base of the tower, and the entire thing began to sway. Large chunks of debris fell, and the window in the center of the dome shattered. What was left of the dome began to slide to one side. Support columns cracked, and two of them crumpled completely as they took on a disproportionate amount of the dome’s weight.
“We better get out of here now,” said Sir Regi.
The dog walked up to the edge of the tower and looked down. About two hundred feet below them, the bubbles containing Hades and his captives were still slowly descending. The dog reared back, moved forward a few times while growling softly, and then with a yippy bark he stepped off the precipice and soared down. Marcus yelled, trying to stop the dog at the last moment, but it was too late. He ran over to the spot where Sir Regi had been moments before and looked down just as the dog landed on top of the bubble that Hades was riding. The surface wobbled a bit and then the dog sank into the bubble. Hades looked down at him and then up where he had come from, clearly confused.
“Never wanted to live forever anyways,” said Mestoph, and he dropped down as well.
“Got any better ideas?” Marcus asked Leviticus.
“Oh Hell, why not?” said Leviticus as he and the other two dropped off as well. Mestoph had already sagged into the bubble when Leviticus landed on top. Marcus’s aim was a little off, and he landed on the bubble with Persephone and the shepherd. Stephanie landed on the larger bubble, but it had already started to sag from Leviticus’s weight. She hit at an odd angle and bounced off like it was a trampoline. Marcus reached out for her, even though he wasn’t anywhere near enough to grab her, and watched as she plummeted down.
“Hades!” said Persephone, as much a command as an accusation.
The bald god took a deep breath and sighed. He tapped his index finger in the air like he was pressing an invisible button. A bubble formed around the falling Stephanie, and she bounced around inside it several times like a rubber ball. It shot up and joined with Persephone’s bubble, and then they continued their slow descent.
“You best remember this, woman,” said Hades to Persephone.
“You’re abducting me again and almost letting an innocent girl die? You bet I’ll remember this,” said Persephone.
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and he closed his eyes for a moment. He bowed his head and then looked over to Mestoph and Leviticus.
“Married?” asked Hades.
The two shook their heads.
“Good, don’t,” said Hades.
The ride down was slow and filled with bickering between Persephone and Hades. The shepherd had yet to say a word, while the others stood there in that awkward silence that was inevitable when confined in the midst of someone else’s argument. They did have a remarkable view of the battle below. Bifrost had just reached the other side of the chasm when a blur of black and white wings soared across. They swooped down into the fray. The white Seraphim began attacking the Jötnar. The giants shot sprays of fire at them, sending singed creatures crashing to the ground. Their vast numbers made the casualties nearly inconsequential, and soon Jötnar began falling. Meanwhile the black Nephilim went straight for the Valkyries. Both the Seraphim and Nephilim kept a noticeable distance from the gods and humans. The Vallhallan warriors quickly grouped together and began mowing down Hel’s ragged fighters with ease.
Freyr was again darting between Surtr’s legs when his luck finally ran out. Surtr swept the leg Freyr was trying to tackle out of the way, which left Freyr exposed. Surtr grabbed Freyr in his massive hand, lifted him up to eye level, and began laughing a slow, menacing laugh. Surtr then slammed Freyr down on the ground with so much force the concussion could be felt all the way up in their bubbles. Then Surtr drew the sword that Loki had given him, which grew to match his giant proportions, and drove the point through Freyr and into the ground below him.
Heimdall and Loki were both beginning to tire visibly. Heimdall’s blows weren’t as strong or as frequent, and he had either lost or shed his chainmail shirt, while Loki’s blocks and counterattacks were becoming clumsier and slower. Heimdall made another overhead slice and Loki’s shield finally split in half, straight through the iron cap in the center. Loki’s playful demeanor suddenly turned serious, and he looked around him for something to take cover behind. Heimdall seemed to find renewed strength. Loki blocked the swings, but each one jarred him and drove him backwards. Concern and then fear spread across the trickster god’s face. Heimdall reared back with all his might, and Loki raised his sword with both hands, the blade slicing into his left hand as he gripped it, but then his sword, too, broke in half.
Loki dropped to his knees. He looked at the half-sword in his right hand and then up at Heimdall, standing tall over him with an impassive expression on his face. This wasn’t a victory to gloat over; it was the end of a great adversary and one of the final dominoes in the toppling succession that was Ragnarok. Heimdall thrust his sword into Loki’s chest, directly into his heart and through his back, in an emotionless maneuver that he performed out of duty. Heimdall then put his foot on Loki’s chest and pushed him off the sword. The god’s body flopped back, a spray of blood from the wound shooting up several feet in the air. Heimdall dropped his sword and panted.
Loki raised a hand and motioned to Heimdall. He stepped forward and knelt beside the fallen god. Loki’s lips were moving, but from their bubbles they couldn’t hear the words. Loki beckoned Heimdall closer, and the white god leaned in. The trickster grabbed the broken sword and jammed it several times into Heimdall’s side. Heimdall fell flat onto Loki’s chest. With the last of his strength, Loki rolled them both over and thrust the broken blade into Heimdall’s heart. He fell to one side, and neither of the gods moved again.