Chapter 68: The Escher Tent Fiasco

Setting up their campsite went fine, until it came time to deal with their tent. Bael had read the instructions, seen the collapsible poles for the menace they were, and decided to do things his own way. It didn’t end well.

The demon furiously scribbled reminders in his notebook as he worked to erect the tent. Somehow, even though he was creating the poles and stakes using his own magic, parts were missing. By the time he finished putting it up, the tent was leaning to one side and half the stakes had seemingly evaporated.

Six thought this was the funniest thing she had ever seen. The young witch sat at the picnic table, laughing at him as she ate a sandwich. Bael let out a sigh and decided to cut his losses. He could always reinforce the tent from the inside with magic later.

Titan watched with amusement as Bael stepped away, only for the tent to collapse behind him. The hellhound tried his best to hide a laugh, but his sides were shaking. Bael’s thoughts wandered to his wife. He hoped Maharet was having a better time.

***

Lucy looked around Maharet’s kitchen, it was as painfully domestic as the last time she saw it.

The devil leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. “When did we get so boring?”

“Speak for yourself,” Maharet said as she pulled a batch of chocolate croissants out of the oven, “I like my life here.”

Lucy shook her head and went to grab one of the pastries. “I’m still processing the idea of you playing homemaker.”

Maharet slapped her hand away. “I’m not playing anything, and don’t think I’m not onto you. You always do this, Lucy. You try to make people question their lives so they will go along with whatever hairbrained scheme you’re planning.”

“At least I’m consistent,” Lucy said, “You were all fire and passion the last time we met. You wanted to kick down the doors of Bael’s department and toast his ass for blocking your projects.”

She got the sense that coasting on her power and reputation might have had unforeseen consequences. Now that Lucy was just another fallen angel instead of the supreme leader of hell, nobody cared what she had to say anymore. Lucy felt like a rich aunt that had bought affection with expensive toys every Christmas, only to find out that the smiles stopped when the gifts did.

Lucy knew that she had fucked up. There was no other way of putting it. Not if she was being honest with herself. And there was more to it than her recent attempt to kickstart the apocalypse. Her whole life had been a never ending string of failures ever since she left heaven.

She tucked the empty paper bag in her pocket (she was the Devil, not a litter bug) and started her motorcycle. Lucy needed to clear her head, and a long ride out to the coast would be a good start.

***

Gabriel knew that his time to act was limited. Heaven’s bureaucracy moved slowly, but it got there eventually. He needed a win before they stuck him behind a desk. An eternity of putting faces on potato chips or arranging minor miracles was his idea of hell.

So far his forces were barely at half strength. He would need enough angels to overwhelm Bael completely, preventing the Baron from organizing a counter attack. Zephyr was obviously compromised, which left him short handed.

The Archangel weighed his options. If he moved now, there was a chance that Bael would slip away. If he waited for all his troops to show up there was a strong chance Heaven would approve the Baron’s job application before Gabriel could move.

Hell would not come to the Barron’s aid if Gabriel attacked. However, they would respond violently to his demise. The cycle of retribution would escalate. Good and evil would finally clash once more, and Gabriel would have the chance to prove himself to the rest of heaven.

They wouldn't have the courage to mock Gabriel when he was all that stood between them and the hordes of hell. The Archangel nodded to himself. It was settled. They would attack tomorrow, as soon as the majority of his troops were ready.

Attacking at less than full force would increase the risk, and casualties. But that was to be expected in war. A few dead angels was a price Gabriel was more than willing to pay for a chance at glory.