The burning Angel hurtling past the Prime’s office window was his first indication that events had jumped dramatically past him.
The second was the sudden appearance of his Demon Ally.
“The First-mother was taken,” the thing sniveled. “ All the delicious children were taken by her Guardian, and poor Lillake was killed!”
“WHAT?” the Prime screamed, whipping around. The Angels were smashing his F-55 jetfighters to pieces. It was obvious that the Army of God had called in their own powerful allies. “Nursie?” He knew the ancient Demon was getting a trifle dotty in her old age, but she was powerful.
“Dead!” the Ally wept. “The Principal too… And worse. Consumed by Divine fire.”
“Divine fire?” the Prime asked. “You said Angels couldn’t get past my defenses!” And then a cold chill ran up his spine as he thought of his captive. If that thing was loose!
“We’re not sure what her guardian is.” The Demon’s forehead bulged and wrinkled between ram’s horns. Its leathery batwings fluttered. It stank of urine and brimstone. “Burned hundreds of us.”
“And my captive?” the Prime shouted.
“He is imprisoned yet.” The Ally cringed.
“The First-mother?” The Prime’s hands formed rakes.
“We are in pursuit,” the Ally moaned.
What was happening? The Prime had only stepped into his office moments ago from his meeting with Tiny. And now this?
“We have been betrayed.” The creature’s oversized eyes blinked.
“By who?” The Prime glared at the creature.
“Balg’s allies in Heaven have betrayed him!” the Demon yelped. “Angels attack the City, when they had agreed to assist Balg against the Army of the Dead.”
“Nobody told me about allies in Heaven!” The Prime felt the pit of his stomach drop. Betrayal. The Demon’s Assistant, Passport, said nothing about a three-way split. It was supposed to be humans and Demons running the world. What would cause a betrayal now? Unless betrayal had been the plan all along. “What about the deal? We have a deal!”
“Balg struggles to keep his promise. Even now a Demon army has joined with the City Defenders! The Angels are fewer in number and should be repelled.” A wisp of smoke curled out of the creature’s nostrils.
“And you? What kind of an ally are you?” the Prime bellowed.
“Our Union was to help you bind the captive, give you Powers and defend your tower!” the Ally said bitterly.
“Defend the Tower then!” The leader of Westprime spat on the floor. “Find the First-mother!” Don’t panic! The Demons said they could handle the relatively small force of Angels out there. Damn! He would have told the same lie. The Prime was sick of assurances. He hated overconfidence. Time to take charge.
He peered out the windows to the west, watched fiery flying shapes, hurtling up to meet the Angelic threat.
“We can overcome the Angels.” The Demon sniffed and then froze. The Prime watched its head arch back on a long neck. Its eyes disappeared into its skull. Finally it said, “Our seekers have the First-mother’s trail. I must go.”
“Well, get her!” the Prime bellowed as the Ally shimmered, became translucent and disappeared. Steadying himself with thoughts of hate, he marched over to the phone. His Demon organ twitched and squirmed like an eel. Betrayed by the incompetence of superiors! Betrayed by bargains. Betrayed by Powers!
“Get me General Topp!” His voice was sharp iron. A minute passed. He pondered the depths of betrayal. He’d show the two-faced fuckers.
The General picked up the phone. “Yes, Sir!” His tone was as stiff as a salute.
“Topp,” the Prime began. “I want to initiate the Final Solution.”
“Prime, sir.” Topp’s voice cracked. “I understand our troops have engaged the enemy on the southern and western flanks of the City.”
“Yes, General.” He paused looking at the dirt under his fingernails. “So what?”
“Sir, I wondered,” Topp started. “Is it possible that the war can be decided in our favor using conventional means?”
Fucker! “Conventional?” He ground his teeth. Ignore the fool. “It is 3 a.m. Topp.” He cleared his throat, holding back a tirade. “I want those birds in the air in one hour and fifteen minutes.”
“But sir!” Topp’s voice broke.
“But sir what?” the Prime asked, keeping his voice soft.
“I can’t fire on my own people,” Topp blurted. There were a couple of hollow rushing pops, and then a thud. The telephone receiver bumped and squeaked.
“Hello Prime?” a new voice said.
“Hello Carter,” the Prime chortled. Topp’s soft spot just cost him a pair of bullets in the brain. “Good work.”
“Looks like you were right about him,” Carter continued.
“The missiles are ready?” the Prime asked.
“Affirmative,” Carter said. “On your command.”
“A minor change in plan,” the Prime said. “I want you to launch at targets in both “A” and “B” groups in one hour and fifteen minutes.” The leader of Westprime had long ago traded out the duplicate key launch method, and replaced it with loyalty and hidden Demonic assassins.
“And I get to keep Carter’s body,” Carter’s possessing Demon said.
“Drive it in good health.” The Prime was pleased this much of his plan was working. Now the nun! His captive said he had to know the God-wife before him. Sick fuck! The mere thought got his Demon organ rising. Then he’d rule the world.
“In one hour fifteen minutes the missiles launch,” Carter said.
“Unless I say otherwise.” The Prime started laughing and slammed the phone down. Do an end run on me! You’re about to experience the Mother of all betrayals! He would be safe underground when the birds started flying, if he had to go through with it. “I’ll show you fuckers Apocalypse!”