Dawn hurried over to Mr. Jay and grabbed his hand. He looked at her: his face torn by grief.
88 – Balg’s Final Deal
Felon’s eyes snapped open. He shuddered-the echo of claws in flesh. A blanket was draped over him. Whipping it aside he swung his legs over the mattress and sat up. Pain made the action arthritic. He lost count of the stitches in his left thigh. The blood was sticky along the sutures. Pain pounded in from all over his body. Raising his left arm was difficult. It was stitched and bandaged. Thin black lines traced the skin past the stained cotton. It had a gangrenous look. He tried to flex the fingers. They moved, but the effort produced beads of sweat on his brow. He was hurting, but not enough. Someone had given him painkillers.
The assassin got to his feet and limped across the room. There was a deep ache in his hips. His neck and shoulder throbbed. He touched rows of punctures there.
His clothes hung in an open closet at the foot of the bed. They were damp and smelled of the sea. He pulled them on. A quick check showed him that his secrets had been plundered. The clothes were purged of hidden weapons. Felon decided that death was coming. He just hoped to take a few people with him.
He pulled his jacket on, pausing to finger the ripped fabric. The door swung open. Passport stood there with Wurn. The troll had an autoshotgun in his over-sized hands. Those weapons fired 12 gauge plugs or pellets from bulky clips at a rate of one per second. The clips held thirty rounds. Properly applied, they could demolish a building.
“Mr. Felon.” The assistant to the Demon fawned. “Master Balg awaits.”
“ You pull me out?” Felon snarled.
“Yes.” Passport grinned. “The Swimmers wouldn’t touch you.”
“You’ll regret it.” The assassin shrugged into his jacket and limped after Passport. Wurn fell in behind; his hands steady on the weapon.
They turned up the twisting stair from a doorway opposite the Games Room. The Watcher’s death scream still rang in Felon’s ears. They crossed the companionway to Balg’s office. Passport held the door aside and gestured for Felon to enter. The Eyesore came after him stinking like shit in the sun.
Balg sat behind the desk, eyes radiating dangerous power. His horns were longer, curling down over his face like a ram’s. He wore a loose navy blue suit. His features had changed, were more bestial. His lower fangs hooked up over his lip. The nose was wide and wet like a bull’s. It gave him a stupid, bovine look.
“Felon, old friend. Sit down.” Balg’s movements were muscle-bound, fake parodies of human. His shoulders had swollen grotesquely, bunching and grinding under his jacket. His hairy hands hung past his cufflinks like apish imitations. “Have a cigar!” Balg knocked over a candle as he grabbed the cigar box with awkward hands.
“How are you?” Balg watched Felon take a one.
The assassin glared at the Demon then lit the cigar with a candle from the desk. A whiff of brimstone was coming from Balg-livestock too. Things were slipping-the show was winding up for the final act. Balg’s voice had changed too. His words echoed with grunts and growls.
“You have done well, Felon.” Long fangs garbled the words. “There is a matter of payment.”
“No,” Felon growled. The Eyesore breathed raggedly a yard behind him. He hadn’t sensed Passport enter the room.
“You fulfilled the contract.” The Demon looked like a gorilla in a suit. “Payment is due.”
Felon stared at the Demon’s glowing eyes-an unsteady fire flickering in them.
“I apologize for any little irregularities that have occurred over the past few days.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But that’s business-market fluctuations, acquisitions and fallout from a change in the board of directors. My partners insisted that I acquire your nun to work a deal with the Prime. Our intention was to set up an Anti-Rome ruled by a coalition of Angels, Demons and some Fallen. Humans were essential, of course, and the Prime was willing.”
“Truth!” Felon’s lips curled back.
“But Felon, I’ll pay you as arranged. I need you.” The Demon smiled weakly. “We can win this thing.”
“You’ve lost.” He drew in on the cigar.
“Hardly.” Balg shook hooked claws. “Minor betrayals have changed the game, but it is still playing out. Now that the treason is understood, we can modify our plans. A war for domination instead of partnerships.” Balg reached for the cigars, accidentally cut one in half with his claws. He growled, lips wrinkling around yellow fangs. “Michael had to be put out of the way. He got too powerful. You understand?”
“He was in on it?” Felon’s senses were on Wurn. The stench gave the troll away.
“It was his idea. He convinced Gabriel. See, Michael defended Heaven in the war against Lucifer, but he was never happy with God’s plan regarding the adoration of man. And after Judgment Day man would be brought up to sit beside Angels.” Balg’s voice quavered and grunted. “Michael told Gabriel he would never sit equal to man. He would rather set up his own business. Since Gabriel had read Revelations too, and saw that Michael was serious, he joined him.”
“A second rebellion.” Felon could tell that the story was drawing Wurn in. The Eyesore had moved six inches closer.
“Yes.” Balg leaned forward. “But they couldn’t do it alone. Other Angels were recruited-Michael and Gabriel had their own gangs, right? Neutrals had to be convinced.”
“And Demons?” The assassin shifted in his chair.
“We got involved right after Michael and Gabriel talked to Lucifer. Nick wasn’t interested. He thinks you can’t beat God in a turf war, and didn’t trust the other Firstborn. Some ambitious Fallen joined up, but most stayed neutral.” Balg summoned up some of his old bravado. “I heard about this and called them up. In the Pit we’re older families with different rules. And Demons were never forced to adore man. Instead, most of us got whacked out by the One God and his boys and stuffed in the Pit in the first place. But, I could see the sense in a coalition. If there was a second rebellion in the works, and rules were loosening up I wanted in. So lots of meetings and meals and we had a deal.”
“The Change?” Felon knew he could reach Wurn with his left hand.
“Michael gave the animals dominion over man, started the rain and stopped the aging process in the living. Gabriel’s the Angel of Death, so he quit calling souls to judgment-and he did something to the biology to keep the bodies from rotting out, since he thought an army of the dead might come in handy. I was stupid and didn’t realize it would be his personal muscle. He’s turned it against you people and now he’s turned it on me.” Balg tried to take another cigar-gave up frustrated.
“We worked in secret because nobody wanted to wake God. But as time passed we took more liberties-started to blur the lines of the Divine and Infernal Compacts. Once the Change came, all the rules loosened up. Look what you do for a living, for Christ’s sake. And that’s how Michael got whacked. He was out of control and mating with humans.” Balg looked longingly at Felon’s cigar. “Michael was the most powerful of the Celestial Choir and if anything was going to wake the One God, it would be him fucking around with humans”
“ You trick me into killing him?” Felon sneered.
“Gabriel’s idea. He knew I employed you from time to time.” Balg’s fangs showed in a smile.
“ You tricked me,” Felon growled. “And now you’ve been betrayed and want help.”
“After Gabriel tricked me. He wanted Michael whacked for his own reasons. When I saw his dead army, I knew he’d come gunning for me so I worked a deal with the Prime. See he’s got dreams of ruling the world-wants to make his own super race. Word on the street, he’s looking for this Cawood broad. The Marquis was from Michael’s group. I arranged through him to snatch her from you. The Marquis would tell you that Gabriel put the finger on her and we hoped you’d go gunning for Gabriel. Since I knew you’d come gunning for someone.” Balg stared back at Felon. “But you caught Passport and the Marquis sang like a canary.” Balg looked momentarily downcast. “The Prime and me are going to war against Gabriel’s boys and the Army of the Dead. The plan is the Prime will lead the human world, and I’ll run the Demon,” he sniggered.