A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

NOTICE

IF YOU ARE JUST NOW FINDING THIS "BLOGNOVEL," YOU'RE MISSING OUT ON A REAL TREAT.

A NEW, UPDATED, VERSION OF THIS STORY APPEARS AT MY WEB SITE. TO READ THE COMPLETELY NEW "THE MUNSON CHAPTERS" UNDER ITS NEW TITLE, "AUGUST WINTER," GO TO

WWW.MICHAELRIGG.COM

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank the following people, without whom I would never have even attemtped to write another novel - after 10 years - and online - and exposed as a first draft for the world to see

My loving wife, Melanie
Your support and love for my art moves my soul. You make me want to create. It's a tough job: muse, but you do it so well. I love you!

My friends and fellow bloggers:
Patti Tobin Davis (Circle Everything), Cynthia (View From a Convertible). You are the best first readers I could ever hope for. You keep me inspired.

My friend and "technical encouragement," Kris Julius
Kris introduced me to the ease of Blogger and WordPress. He's also the author of quite a few works himself. Check out KrazyKakeBakers.com for a hint.

My contributor, fellow writer, and "contest winner," Eve Nielsen
Author of the Quest Writer and Creative Explosions 'blogs.
Thank you for suggesting Maggie. I hope I did her justice.

I also want to thank my friends, family, Kris and Amanda, and anyone not mentioned here (I've been typing for a loooong time. Please forgive the oversightage). You can't do something as crazy as publishing a first draft novel online for the world to see without having a dynamite support staff.

I can't wait to unveil the "finished version"
stay tuned for
AUGUST WINTER

45. EPILOGUE (D1)

__ "That's one hell of a story," the man said around a mouth full of sandwich.
__ The woman he arrived with glared at him. "Jim!"
__ The man - Jim - forced a large swallow. "I mean come on! Deer head? God forgiving the devil? What kind of shit is this?"
__ "Jim!"
__ "It's okay," the old man smiled and waved a dismissing hand toward the woman's husband. "Like the truth of the August Winter, it's all down to faith."

__ The couple came in to the roadside novelty store on their way through Indiana toward Colorado. It was their honeymoon and they were playing out an extended cross-country road trip in lieu of the usual cruise or flight. "The way things are these days," the wife had said with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, we can really get to know each other intimately this way."
__ "Yes, you can," the old man had nodded and winked.
__ The couple had told him they were intrigued by the sign: "PSYCHIC" spelled out in unlit glass neon tubes above an eye and the word CHURCH painted on the glass underneath. The shop looked like a run down wild west saloon, the imagery heightened by the vast acres of dead farmland surrounding it - and nothing else. The sign on the door said OPEN, so they stopped.
__ The old man who greeted them at the door smiled with dark yellowed teeth and an old GOD IS MY CO-PILOT baseball cap. He wore a scarf around his neck despite the 90-degree heat. With the assistance of a bamboo cane, the old prospector stepped aside and used a sweeping motion with a papery thin arm to invite the pair in. "I get so few visitors, as you might imagine. Please excuse the dust. It's been a dry summer."
__ "Yup," the man said, unwrapping a subway sandwhich as he crossed the threshold and taking a huge bite of it.
__ The woman playfully smacked his arm and said, "Jimmy!" as she pointed to a NO FOOD OR BEVERAGES sign behind the dusty glass. Both 'Jimmy' and the old man waved it off. The old man saying, "You kiddin'? C'mon in. Can I getcha some lemonade?"
__ "No thank you," said the wife.
__ "Nup," said Jim.
__ The couple eyeballed the strange collection of items scattered about the main room of the PSYCHIC CHURCH and smiled nervously as if they had just found themselves wandering into a psychotic wonderland of the bizarre and unpredictable.
__ An old faded pizza box under glass, barely readable as PIZZA KING, had a price tag of $150. The bench seat from an old car with a hole punched through the passenger seat was listed at $750. A shovel, rope, and satchel bag was selling as a "unique set" for $800. There were crumpled men's suit jackets, salt and pepper shakers, horribly stained - "Was that blood?" - woman's tee shirts, a battered car bumper, and what looked like a large collection of splintered wood and organ pieces in a box. The box was labeled, ARDY'S CRUCIFIX and was listed at $2,000.
__ "Quite a collection ya got here," the man snickered around a chomp of roast beef and lettuce and who-knows-what.
__ "The sign says 'church'," the woman pointed out.
__ And that's when the old man told the story about the day a serial killer stepped into this very room and met a beautiful young psychic girl and how, on that day-turned-night over fifty years ago.
__ The whole time the old man spoke, pointing to different items around the store, the wife stared wide-eyed and the man rolled his eyes as if to say, That's why you want all that money for an old pizza box. Now I get it - forget it!
__ But for a time the husband - Jim - stopped munching on his foot-long and glared, sometimes catching himself in disbelief, other times sneering and glancing at his watch.
__ During the times he was caught up in the story, his wife was completely wrapt, leaning forward with her hand on her chest or fanning her face and muttering, "Oh, my God," and "Really?"

__ They had looked around, taken pictures, chomped on his sandwich, giggled and huffed for what seemed like an hour or two as the old man recounted the story of Ardy, Doug, Maggie and the killer Munson in mysteriously smart detail for such an old story.
__ When it was over, the old man said, "Care to purchase?"
__ The man laughed. The woman asked, "Do you have a restroom?"
__ The old man pointed to a side door. "Through the bedroom there. Forgive the mess, but the can is clean."
__ As she stepped away, Jim shoved the last bite of his sub into his maw and attempted to to compact it with his teeth. His cheeks inflated and he pushed the drool in with his finger.
__ The old man smiled crookedly, a look that simultaneously called Jim a pig and said 'to each his own.' He turned toward a broken set of antlers hanging on the wall, glazed with some kind of reddish brown stain, and said, "Oh, these are from Deer Head - still intact. I forgot the price tag. Six hundred."
__ Jim thought of something funny, or perhaps he was going to make an observation about the price. Whatever the case, his voice cut as the wad of half-chewed sub was inhaled into his throat and jammed his windpipe.
__ The old man heard the scuffle and turned toward the man. He rushed to him to see if he could help.
__ Jim, rapidly turning purple and making the "I. Am. Chocking." hand gestures, stared at the old man with his eyes bugging out and tears streaming down his cheeks. The old man stood in front of him with his powdering fingertips on Jim's chest and saying, "Eh? You're choking? Are you chocking?"
__ Jim clenched his left fist and wrapped it with his right hand. He attempted weakly and with no success to give himself the Heimlich maneuver five or six times before stumbling backwards and collapsing to the floor.
__ The old man raced to his side and lowered himself slowly with his cane. He leaned over the man who reached up and pulled at the scarf, his dying watery eyes practically screaming, For God's sake, help me! and darting from side to side as if to yell, Where is my wife!?
__ The scarf pulled away from the old man's neck revealing a savage dark brown bruise that looked clearly like a thumb on the left and four fingers on the right. The neck itself looked pinched and weathered.
__ Jim's eyes fluttered with the realization. Then he died.

__ Rose Bloomfield checked her makeup in the splotchy and greasy bathroom mirror after trying to balance herself on one leg while she flushed the toilet with her foot.
__ This was kind of neat. The old man's story went on and on, but it was fascinating to listen to. Wow, the old people in these backwards hole-in-the-wall towns sure could spin a yarn. She loved Jim and was glad he bowed to her whimsies like that.
__ "Oh, wow! Stop there. Stop there!"
__ They had only crossed two states and two camera cards were already filled. Maybe, she thought, they could stop at a Walgreens or something and download what they had so far. Eighty terrabites wasn't that much, was it?
__ She wondered vaguely if Jim would continue to be that way throughout their marriage. Would he still be willing to turn the car around to check out an antique store run by a one-armed farmer, or will he spend their post-nuptuals in a recliner watching the Bears?
__ Rose shrugged and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She smacked her lips and noticed a faded picture stuck to the far right side of the mirror. It was so faded it was almost transleucent and that's why she hadn't noticed it. It was a photograph from a deeply yellowed - almost browned - newspaper. She leaned close to see what she could make out. It looked like a photo in an obituary column. It appeared to be of a woman in her thirties in a baseball cap. Her smile was bright, but the death notice type belied the emotion depicted. The caption was faded and partially obscured by a message in long evaporated ink - maybe a love note? - the type read, "ARDELENE R. JACOBI."
__ "Aww," Rose blinked. "How sad." She didn't know who the old man was. She supposed he could be one of the characters in the story, but he had introduced himself as Gus and said he bought the old Psychic Parlor intending to make it into a gas station.
__ Why isn't Jim calling me to get back on the road? He's probably caught in another long story with old Gus. I better save him.

__ Rose came out and saw Jim sitting on a folding chair near the front door. Old Gus was taking a half glass of water from him. Jim looked like he had been crying.
__ "Honey!?" The doting newlywed, Rose jogged to her husband.
__ Jim waved her off. "I'm okay [sniff]. I'm ready to go."
__ To Gus, "Is he okay? What happened?"
__ Gus smiled and shrugged. "Bit too much o' the sandwich. Down the wrong pipe."
__ Rose patted her husband lightly on the back as he turned for the door. "Honey. What have I told you about that? You're going to choke to death one of these days."
__ Jim looked over his shoulder, past Rose, and gave old Gus a confused but familiar look.
__ In moments they were gone, Gus waving after them.

__ Old Man Testerbird, as he was called - sometimes Gus because that's what he told people, turned and cane-hobbled back inside. Once inside he allowed himself to collapse on the dusty couch where he once held the only love of his life all those years ago.
__ "There's another one for ya, Ardy," Douglas wrinkled his chin and nodded. "Another one."

44. Tricking the Trickster (D1)

__ Doug had stopped outside the side door to St. Paul's the same way R. Lee Munson had with the Archangel Michael perched invisibly on the shoulder of his soul. The only difference with Doug was that he had no archangel support. And he was wrestling with the massive waves of guilt at listening to Maggie's tortured screams and final quiet gurgle.
__ "I could have saved her," Doug whispered in prayer with his forehead on the door. The shadow cast by the security light above gave him a harsh and useless silhouette in the snow between his feet. His faceless self stared up at him not offering anything close to hope. "God, give me strength. I don't understand any of this. I don't know what's going on or what I'm doing. I couldn't save Ardy, but I could have ran back and taken Maggie out of here. I could have...."
__ He let it trail off. He knew God wouldn't answer. All of this was a test of his faith. But there was more to it than that. In Maggie's little otherworldly pep-talk, she had given him some instruction as what to do. She couldn't give him the whole psychic profile - that would defuse the whole "faith thing." All she could say was, "You'll know what to say when you get there, but remember, he's a trickster."
__ Doug had blinked, "W-Who is? Who's a trickster?"
__ "The devil, silly."
__ "But I-"
__ "All you need is your faith. Your trust in Him. It's easy, Mr. Testerbird. Just leave me to die."
__ Doug couldn't argue with her because she wouldn't have it. In fact, he didn't believe it. After all, the diminutive Yuri Gellar had an inside track with the murderous Munson. Doug still didn't know who to trust, why, or when.
__ You couldn't have a greater test of faith.
__ He took three deep breaths, armed with nothing but his faith, and opened the door.
__ Maggie had been wrong. There was no devil here. What Doug saw was a tall, hard-bodied (and naked - let's not forget naked) bronzed blue-eyed male model in the midst of some ranting soliloquy.
____ "...You send me a man distracted by false gods, instead of a redeemer of light.
__ "And they all fell before me. They all fail when you send them. Because they are only human, they fall. All of them."
__ Doug took one more deep breath. "Not all of them."


__ Lucifer was not God, hadn't heard God's whispers in his ears for thousands of years, and hadn't had the gift of precognition since The Fall. So, he jumped at the sound of the scrawny man's voice. The devil jumped and rested his hand on his chest. "Who-?"
__ "I'm Douglas. I'm here to stop you from whatever it is you're doing."
__ It was obvious by the stiff way the intruder held his neck that he was avoiding letting his gaze fall upon the ruin that was Ardelene Jacobi. Perhaps they had something? Lust? Something I can use, Lucifer mused.
__ "Sinner!" the devil accused, pointing dramatically at Douglas's chest with a muscular finger. "Your fate is sealed. You will join me in hell."

__ Doug hadn't expected that kind of response (yeah. What kind of response was expected from your first conversation with a fallen angel?) and looked around the floor for something to use as a weapon. A leaky vial of holy water perhaps, a silver bullet and a convenient revolver, mandrake root, a mirror. How do you fight the devil himself?
__ Lucifer stood and stepped around an overturned pew. Doug glanced up before stepping back, surprised to find the dark angel was endowed - actually well endowed. He didn't know why - maybe it was a movie or something - but he always expected that angels were sexless.
__ "You can run from me, earth crawler. Your soul will be mine upon your death and I will sup upon it like I did the entrails of your beloved bitch there."
__ Doug pinched his eyes closed, almost tripped backing around some wreckage from the pipe organ, and stammered, "Y-You can't. I have faith. I believe."
__ Lucifer continued stalking Doug. With a powerful arm, he uprighted a statue pedastal and tossed it aside. He took another stride toward the shivering store owner as Doug arched his way around the other side of the church. The devil sneered, "You believe in aliens. You believe in reality TV. You believe in Star Trek. You don't even know God."
__ Doug stopped. Stood firm. "You're right."
__ Lucifer stopped pursuing, but he didn't look surprised at Doug's response. Instead, he lowered his head slightly and gazed out from under a malevolent brow, his grin of perfect white teeth almost a ferrel expectation of flesh.
__ Doug said, "I'm a sinner."
__ "You confess to me?"
__ "I confess to God. Though I'm not worthy of His redemption." Where were these words coming from? Doug was silently thankful for all the years of churchgoing. The various memorized and rote-induced creeds were coming back to him though he never expected to recite them like this.
__ "A shame. But you are worthy of mine," Lucifer leered.
__ "I don't want - or need - yours," Doug said and continued backpedaling.
__ The devil pursued. Doug was walking backwards, glancing over his shoulder more rapidly, watching his step. Lucifer was closing the distance.
__ Doug was now almost to the crook of the makeshift cross that held Ardy's ruined body. That's where Lucifer would trap him. What now, Lord? What do I do now? I could have saved the girl and now the dark angel is going to strangle the life out of me and eat my soul like candy. What am I supposed to do to stop this?
__ God answered by allowing Doug's heel to catch a step up to the podium across from the pulpit. He stumbled back, his arms pinwheeling uselessly. He landed on his rear with a thump and reflexively held his arms up to protect his face.
__ Lucifer closed the gap growling. "When I am through with you, meat, you will pray with all your heart to a darkness that never answers." He lunged for Doug and lifted him by the shirt collars. He slammed him back against the cross-bar of the cross.
__ The altar wreckage-converted-to-crucifix was hard and heavy. The air was knocked out of Doug's lungs as Lucifer slammed his back against the bar. He winced and glanced right to see Ardy's upturned impaled palm. He closed his eyes against it as Lucifer lifted him and pushed the back of his head against Ardy's ruined ribcage.
__ The devil's hands closed around Doug's throat and began to crush his esophagus like an old tin can. And that's when it occurred to him.
__ Doug's eyes widened with the realization. He's one of us! He's human!
__ His mind raced marathons at the speed of light. Crazy thoughts (like anything today could be crazy by comparison to this day itself) darted from ear to ear. Doug thought this wasn't really Lucifer but an impersonator, maybe an alterling possessing a man as with the cop.
__ But in those ice blue eyes Doug saw an eternity. And in that eternity, regret and suffering. Thousands of ears of suffering. As Christ walked the earth as a human being so that God could taste of mankind's guilt and sin, suffering and cruelty; Lucifer was now walking the earth to taste of love and regret, fear and forgiveness.
__ Just before the vertebrae in his neck snapped, Doug managed a harsh whisper, "I forgive you."
__ Lucifer relaxed his grip and leaned closer as if he could see the truth of Doug's words in the soon-to-be-dead man's eyes. As with the killer before, there was Truth here, a deep and impenetrable light. God was present in this soul after all. He dropped the store owner who landed on the floor in a heap with his hands clawing at his collar, gasping for air.
__ "I DON'T WANT YOUR FORGIVENESS!" Lucifer roared. "I WANT HIS!"

__ And with that, the prince of darkness glanced up into Ardy Jacobi's dead eyes which were now very much alive. He saw the girl's throat move as she swallowed against the stiffness and waves of renewed pain. He saw her eyes blink. He saw the tears well in them. He saw her ruined limbs twitch and her face scrunch up against the agony.
__ In a language he hadn't heard in centuries, Ardy said, "You have it, Lucifer. You are forgiven."

43. The Testerbird of Faith (D1-end change)

__ "Test of faith. Test of faith. Test of faith."
__ Doug kept repeating the mantra as he left Maggie alone in the dark behind him. He kept picturing her standing their, the tall black shadows of winter-laden trees surrounding her. No light. Coldness. Silence. But he had to.
__ Doug didn't know exactly what God's plan was, why he chose him, or how he was going to carry out the mission. All he knew was that he would confront the devil.
__ And the devil would gloat over Maggie's corpse. Something that could easily be prevented if Doug just turned and went back to the little girl. Lucifer would spare her - and Doug - if he just went back, snatched up the child, and ran until there was no more darkness and no more frozen summer.
__ The voice came from behind him. It was a tone he had heard as a teenager. It was vile and cruel. It was the voice that hurt.
__ "Testerbird!"
__ Doug stopped, but didn't turn around. In his mind, he felt Maggie prod him on, "Don't stop. Go!" But he held fast. The moment, the test of his faith, was at hand.
__ "Testerbird, I'm talkin' to you!"
__ It was Munson's voice - or was it the Pizza King kid's? He couldn't be sure. He wanted to turn and see who it was, but -
__ Doug continued walking, hands in his pockets, head down, tears burning his eyes.
__ "We're going to rip her to pieces, you coward! Don't you care!?"
__ Maggie screamed. The sound of a brief scuffle found his retreating ears.
__ Doug stopped again. "No," he muttered. It was a silent command to them to stop though he felt he possessed no such power. It was a command to himself to not stop but to follow his course though he couldn't in good conscious.... But I can't leave the child like that? I can't -
__ "Here comes an arm, Dougie," the voice called. More screaming. Maggie's cries were like knives flying into his ears. The muffled cracking sound -
__ "No! No! No!" Doug broke into a run, away from the shrieks of Maggie's torture and the tormenting laugh of her otherworldly attackers.
__ "Come back, coward!" They cried, a little farther back now. Something thrown tumbled through the air to Doug's right and kicked some snow off tree limbs. It was only a couple feet long, swaddled in a wrinkled man's suit sleeve, and had five fingers.
__ "No! Damn you! No!"
__ Maggie's screams continued like a shrill siren announcing the end of the world.


__ Lucifer spat out the chunk of Ardy's heart he was chewing like gum. He cocked his head, studied her ruined body torn open by his own fury, the beautiful blacks, purples, reds, and browns of her entrails spilled out onto the floor. Her heart had no flavor. It was gone. She had been taken up and would not be his.
__ The light bearer looked over his shoulder to the hanging Pizza King boy. Legad, formerly known as Todd, had failed miserably.
__ He knew how this happened. It was his own fault.
__ For centuries, Lucifer had been waiting for this day, the Second Coming. He knew it would be at such a time when God would harken back to the Great Flood. "Your second failure," the dark lord sneered. The first, Lucifer maintained, was creating man in the first place.
__ "We had paradise." The bitterest three words the fallen angel had ever known.
__ "Now we have nothing. Well," he allowed a smile. "You have nothing. I have hell."
__ The return of the Son was supposed to be heralded by the Great Conversion. All souls pointing heavenward with the shocking realization: The Christians Were Right.
__ "Doomed to failure," Lucifer whispered turning away from the crucified psychic. He sat next to the altar, on the step leading up to the bashed-in pulpit, and rested his head in his hands. The devil wept. "If you had kept me with you. If you had forgiven me, instructed me. I would have been there to warn you of your mistake, the lapse. Your damn pride!
__ "Not mine! Yours!"
__ Now God's world had changed. The great teams of society were split even more than in His time. Even if more than the pathetic third of humanity were Christian, there are still less than one percent who claim themselves as God. Colleges teach existentialism. War in the holy land paints an even darker picture. Patriotism is the new Christianity, and that makes for strange and prideful bedfellows. "Science is the new Christ," the devil sneered.
__ Lucifer scratched his eyebrow.
__ "Media. Entertainment. Movies, television, the internet - the Almighty Internet." He looked toward the ceiling, scowled as if he was making direct eye contact with God. "These golden idols your Moses cannot cast down for you."
__ Lucifer's victory would be bittersweet. He had planned for this day, saw it coming. He saw the rise of distraction. He saw the numbers of human souls as they fell into his hands increase thousands fold. He even held the beating hearts of so-called Christians in his hands. They confirm their religion, they may even speak kindly of Christ, then they lust in church over the kneeling skirts at communion. They covet the neighbor's new car in the church parking lot. They hate the pastor for not allowing their marriage. "It is decay, as this flesh," Lucifer sniffed as he plucked a piece of Clye Morrow from his bronze forearm.
__ All of this.
__ All the world's distractions, the absence of love for God, enabled the fallen angel to rise again. Lucifer was walking God's earth because, as he figured, it wasn't God's earth at all. It now belonged to these worms, the two-legged imps. The mockery of creation itself.
__ He was made whole. The irony was that he was made whole in a house of God. His Son returns, and the devil walks among those who will crucify him a second time.
__ "What then? The promised fire?"
__ Lucifer stood and stretched. "Only too happy to oblige."
__ He shouted to the ceiling, "You sent me one who peddles lies for a living instead of your legions of angels. You sent me a murderer, a sinful lamb, instead of your archangel assassin. You send me a man distracted by false gods, instead of a redeemer of light.
__ "And they all fell before me. They all fail when you send them. Because they are only human, they fall. All of them."


__ "Not all of them," Doug said from the doorway.

42. Lucifer (D1.5)

__ Doug finally stopped crying and rested his hands on Maggie's shoulders. What she had said, what she told him he had to do - to save Ardy - to save everyone - was too much to comprehend. But, then again, this whole day was too much to comprehend.
__ "I'll try," he nodded.
__ "You have to do more than try, Mr. Testerbird," Maggie said doubtfully. "If you don't do it, so many people will suffer at the end."
__ Doug took a couple stumbling steps backward and turned, his head tilted back toward the black sky. More tears threatened to come, but he was dry. All he could do was sniff and shudder.
__ "It's so much to ask."
__ He looked at the little girl. "That's what I was just thinking."
__ She smiled and rolled her eyes as if to say, "Duh."
__ He nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right."
__ "You can do this," she prompted.
__ Doug clapped his palms against his sides. "Oh. I can do this? I can hand over a sweet little girl to the devil himself?"
__ She nodded. He could tell she would be able to tell him how all of it will play out, but a higher power, a super secret something between God and the child prohibited that.
__ Because it's all on my faith, Doug figured.
__ Maggie, reading those thoughts, nodded again. Her smile carried the glint of a happy tear in one corner of her eye.
__ "This is crazy."
__ "We have to go now," Maggie said with the seriousness of a guard shouting, "Dead man walkin'!"
__ And that's exactly how Doug felt when he swallowed that lump and held his hand out to take Maggie's. He smiled sourly but surely, "Okay. Let's go."


__ The devil stood over R. Lee Munson's body, fuming.
__ He wished he had the power to urinate - or at least spit - on the corpse, but he was in the form of a corpse himself. All he could do was clack his dry teeth and gurgle angrily.
__ Munson's last two words before the devil took him damaged him, stabbed him. "Forgive you."
__ "How could he? He was mine." Lucifer, as The Fallen Angel was once known, looked to the alterlings standing about obediently but uselessly. "I promised him an eternal pardon!"
__ The alterlings didn't have to answer. Whenever he was angry at himself for becoming angry with God, Lucifer always spoke all the parts of the dialog.
__ "Oh, sure, he's got Jehovah pulling his soul strings now - the Greater Pardon. The pardon I never got!" Whirling around, Lucifer extended the bony fingers of Clye Morrow's animated corpse and put them through the shadowy neck of an alterling. The creature cried out in a wet gulping yelp before exploding into a cloud of soot.
__ The other alterlings didn't shrink away. Instead, they came closer - slowly - to their master's will.
__ "He only said that so He would take him back! He was mine!" Another alterling collapsed at Lucifer's vengeful touch. Then another. A fourth. "Damn him!"
__ Then the brittle, battered, decaying and ripe-smelling body of Clye Morrow locked its limbs and jolted to attention. The rictus grin cracked and snapped, peeling back to reveal a fresh new glistening pink tongue.
__ The brittle fingernails snicked off and fluttered to the floor. Rotted skin and clothes peeled off the body like a reptilian shed revealing the smooth lines and tanned muscles of a perfect being beneath.
__ In Lucifer's frustration, he sucked himself into the earth's surface from the darkest reaches of The Pit. He needed his own strength, the eons of power and bloodlust, and centuries - the eternity - of pent up anger and regret, vengeance and fury.
__ Enough was enough. Let Him send his son back. He didn't fall to my temptations. Let's see how he falls to my revenge.
__ And if I can't take His son, I will take His sons and all of the earth.
__ Lucifer's rage subsided when the last of the alterlings had fallen and the last strip of dead skin had fallen from the corpse. Now he stood in the ruined church, in his personal glory, a specimen of perfect wingless angel. Lucifer's skin was bronzed and rippled with the muscles of a soldier. The tight curls around the crown of his head reflected copper in the flickering candlelight. His jaw was stern and square, his eyes blue but piercing with coldness.
__ He twitched his angular nose toward the side door where Michael - his former comrade - had sent the mortal forgiver. Here two more alterlings rose up and faced him.
__ In a calm voice, the lyrical sing-song voice of an angel, edged only slightly from the Fall, Lucifer instructed, "There is another coming. The resurrector. I must armor myself for the coming storm. You must keep him from my sight until the Son proclaims himself with the first of the seven signs."
__ The alterlings bowed their shadowy bodies and turned to leave.
__ "But leave him untouched," Lucifer commanded. "I want back the power God took from me. I want to drink it from his soul when all else lies in ruin."
__ The two shadows departed and left the devil to prepare his long awaited attack.
__ The drift of snow through the opened door of the church carried with it the fine sent of ash. Lucifer closed his eyes and drank it in. It was the smell of the first moments of war.

41. The Big Game (D1)

__ Ardy had heard the stories.
__ A tunnel of bright light. A voice. Love. Family. The desire to stay though you must go back.
__ This, she thought, is what happens when you are welcomed in and cannot go back.
__ She was dead with no chance to turn around. This was the end.
__ And the beginning.
__ Since Ardy arrived - if 'arrived' is actually an operative word for 'dying,' the kind voice in the light soothed her, eased her fears, loved her, and forgave her.
__ Ardy was aware of her own being, but not of legs or arms or even eyes or ears. She just... was. Afloat in glory, Ardelene Rachel Jacobi was now reborn with the name given to every soul in heaven. She was simply The Returning Child.
__ There were no features that she could make out, but she seemed to be aware of houses upon houses upon mansions upon estates, all glowing white and gold, silver and pearl. She saw no flowers, but she was aware of the freshest bouquet she had ever smelled, an energizing spirit-swelling airy experience. She didn't blink because she didn't have eyes anymore, and her focus seemed to be everywhere at once. In a flash, she absorbed everything. The Truth.
__ And all around her were others. They felt like family and friends but had no distinctive individuality that she could pinpoint as "Uncle Ned," "Kind Old Lady Henderson," or even "Mom" or "Dad." But it was like they were all here, all welcoming her to The One Love.
__ The feeling was an indescribable rush of warm love and forgiveness. She felt large arms enfold her and soft lips kiss her forehead, though there were no arms or lips or foreheads to be found among the light. There was no pain. There was no memory of pain.
__ There had been a sharp sting after Legad sent her home, but it wasn't the feeling of her soul ripping from the earthly body it had been used to for over three decades. The sting was deep and internal.
__ And with the sting came a soul-deep probing question deeper than any accusatory inquisition. The voice whispered, "What have you done with my son. What has my son done for you."
__ Spoken as a statement rather than a question, The Returning Child felt herself suspended over the Great Pit, precariously dangling by a thread of her soul as the answer was pulled from her heart. There was no need to pull out a No. 2 pencil. There were no lines to fill out. There wasn't even time to study or consider the depth and meaning in the words. The Returning Child just pictured what she understood from years of Bible study and church attendance. It was just something she felt: that the being behind the gentle voice gave up his one and only son so that she could be here now. Her eternity had been bought and paid for. She could not express the thanks for His sacrifice. And she cried for the last time in her existence, eternal or otherwise.
__ The question. The answer. Took less than a millionth of a second to register.
__ And the whole time: the sting.
__ "It's your sin burning away," the voice had said. "You are unburdened. You are forgiven."
__ And after the sting it was true. The Returning Child was incapable of even understanding what a sinful thought was. Modesty, anger, greed, lust, any and all desire... were gone. All that was left was love and worship. The 'air' was filled with the most beautiful melodic song and The Returning Child instantly felt herself drawn into the currents of the melody. If she could cry, she would be wracked with tears of absolute joy. The only 'want' was the 'want' to remain in the Glory, to become one with love.
__ This was nothing like the experience in the kitchen before Doug touched her and brought her back to life. This was truly it, no turning back.
__ Heaven.
__ Until something like distant thunder, The Returning Child could feel, rumbled through her spirit.
__ "You cannot stay," He said.
__ The Returning Child couldn't understand. A few seconds into eternity, after passing that proverbial tunnel and bridge to Eden, and she had forgotten all that she once was because so much of what she was came with the sin that had evaporated away. All that was left of her was devotion and love, a forgiven child. A Returning Child. A child being given unconditional and perfect love.
__ And all she could do was obey.
__ It was the least she could do. And the most.
__ Somewhere a small part of her stung again. It was the pinch of loss. She could not bare to leave this place, to leave His Glory.
__ But in time, she did.
__ For he promised she would return again. Very soon.


__ R. Lee Munson found himself standing at the side door to St. Peter's church, his palm resting on the door, his fingers splayed like an awkward star. He was once again alone.
__ After all this time, after burning and branding and having love taken from him in hell, Munson was back on earth where the archangel Michael had led him.
__ The silent spirit of the angel had been inside his body and spoke gently inside his ear. "Do not fear, Robert Lee. You are a soldier with me this day. We will enter into His kingdom and you shall be forgiven.
__ "You have but to ask."
__ Then Michael was gone.
__ Munson cried softly, sniffed, watched his frosty breath float up to the security light above the side door. "I can't. I can't do this alone. I am no soldier."
__ But no answer came. Michael had already filled Munson's mind with what must be done. It was God's final test for him to see if his heart would comply. And then the archangel left.
__ His final words, "You are loved. In that, like me, you will find the strength you need to sacrifice as He had for you."


__ When Munson finally opened the side door to the church, armed only with a single word given to him by God's soldier, his strength immediately purged and he dropped to his knees and wept.
__ The inside of the church had been demolished. Splinters of pew wood were scattered amongst broken candle sticks, statuettes of the Virgin Mary, offering and communion plates, and shards of broken stain glass.
__ Around the debris, carefully arranged to offer the best lighting, were fields of candles. The candles became tighter clusters as they were placed closer to the altar. And the altar itself was tipped over and was used to prop up a giant crucifix. Nailed to the cross was not Jesus but Ardy Jacobi. Her left arm and leg had been badly crushed, her left foot twisted grotesquely sideways so the high C flute from the demolished pipe organ could be used to nail her feet to the makeshift sedile. Still hanging from her side was what appeared to be a curtain rod. Blood was congealing down the shaft and puddled darkly on the floor below her. She was pale, her face a frozen mask of pain now released from suffering. The bloodied hair that hung down one side of her face moved slightly from the breeze by the open door. A couple candles blew out. The breeze eased the smell from the feces smeared on the walls, over the broken pews and floor, and on Ardy's face and clothes.
__ Near the entrance to the church, hanging from the balcony, was a teenage boy. Munson recognized the clothes, and what was left of the face. It was the Pizza King delivery boy, his head misshapen and spiked with what looked like antlers that had been shoved into his ears and the back of his head. A curtain cord was snug around his purple neck and tied to the railing above the entrance. He too was dead, but Munson shuddered to think of exactly when that spirit would have departed.
__ He gasped when he saw the nine shadows standing at attention behind the railing. The Alterlings had no facial features, but Munson felt watched, studied.
__ "I expected Michael."
__ Munson reared back, felt his heart hitch in his throat, at the sound of the soft voice.
__ The man was suddenly in front of him, the one who had been so familiar at the beginning of the day, at earlier moments in his life. The stranger. The pervert. The abuser. Clye Morrow.
__ "You are not Michael."
__ Munson stood, brushed at his pants, and glanced around for some explanation for how the dead man was now animated in front of him. Morrow wasn't resurrected as he was, as Ardy had once been. Clye Morrow moved stiffly, his gray eyes locked always forward, never shifting. His mottled gray skin giving off the stench of chilled earth. He couldn't even be called a zombie. There were no words for what this thing was, but two: Munson's nightmare.
__ "I had thought to bring you back, Clye, to beg you forgiveness for me killin' you," Munson mumbled.
__ The Clye-thing didn't blink. It merely stared at him without showing emotion. Maybe it cocked its head slightly as if to say, "I'm listening." But it didn't.
__ "Regardless what you done to me, I was going to ask you to forgive me."
__ "Were you?" The mouth cracked.
__ Munson nodded slowly, suspicious now that he wasn't talking to Clye Morrow at all, animated corpse or not, this was just the shell. Something else - someone else - was in there.
__ "Don't," it said. "Because I won't give you what you seek. Your time in the Pit is not yet done." Munson could swear it smiled. "Hell is eternal, Robbie."
__ The name made Munson's skin crawl and chill numbly. It was the name he was called - was called just before -
__ "Quiet worm," it smiled, "Don't squirm."
__ "No!" The years of memories, the pain, the touching, flooded back and Munson surged forward with fury and a wellspring of anger. "No!"
__ Clye Morrow's corpse stepped aside, with some agility for a stiffened dead man, and allowed Munson to stumble past him. Two alterlings were quickly on him, one on each arm, grabbing him and spinning him to face the rotting abuser. They held him like the lackeys of a bully, arms pinned and ready for the blows to come.
__ The Morrow-corpse stepped up to Munson, rested a cold palm over his heart, and rolled out a crackling dry and rot-smelling tongue from between blackened gums and crooked teeth. It leaned forward and touched the tongue to Munson's ear as the captive redeemed tried to twist and turn away.
__ It whispered, "I am the light bearer, Robert Lee." Then it stepped back and bowed.
__ "Like the song," Munson felt himself sneering. Where the tongue had touched his skin it felt scaly, crawly. He said, "Won't I guess your name?"
__ The corpse smiled. "Call me deceiver, composer of lies, the first traitor. Whatever. Your... cultural reference ...only proves to me that the time is ripe, that the window of the second coming will be our open door to return."
__ So, the devil returns with the Son, seizing the opportunity to take what isn't rightfully his.
__ Munson cleared his throat, tried to stand taller, struggling between the alterlings unearthly grip. "Michael sent me to stop you."
__ Without pause or reflection, the light bearer said, "Why would he send a condemned murderer?"
__ The church around them groaned against the unseasonable chill outside. A candle flickered. Ardy's body remained limp and suspended. The alterlings remained at silent dark vigil for their master.
__ "I remember the taste of your soul, your tears," the devil chuckled. "It was sweet, like candy. How did it feel, by the way, to be so far from His love? How did it feel to be abandoned, lost? How did it feel to know others were raised above you, held in His arms? How did it feel to know you lived a lost and mistaken life, to be constantly reminded that you had taken the wrong path? How did it feel to know his Son was the door you neglected to open....
__ "And thus cost you your eternal soul?"
__ Munson's chin quivered. The devil was right. It hurt. It hurt bad. "It felt like hell," he muttered.
__ "Welcome back," the devil in Clye Morrow's corpse said, and stepped up and embraced R. Lee Munson with a cold crusty hug.
__ "No. Please."
__ The light bearer concluded the embrace by taking Munson's face in his hands and kissing him on the squirming and resisting mouth. "Sssh," he smiled. "Quiet worm. Don't squirm."
__ Feeling the snap coming, Munson's eyes grew wide and welled with tears. As Michael suggested, he said only one thing. "Forgive you."
__ And with that the devil snapped Munson's neck with a twist and let his lifeless body collapse to the floor in a heap.