Soul Guardian

They said that the Devil could be tricked and God might change his mind, but Father Time never faltered. Of course that wasn’t going to stop Bael from trying. He woke up early while Maharet and Six were still sleeping to inspect the door to the summoning chamber.

Evidently Mike had wanted something to intimidate his followers because it was easily three inches thick and made of solid oak and reinforced with iron. It was the kind of door someone didn’t pass through lightly, even with a halberd. Bael could have removed the door entirely and burned it but there was no saying that whoever had sealed it in the future wouldn’t replace the door with something even harder to break through.

It was like trying to play a game of chess blindfolded, only he didn’t know who his opponent was or what they were planning. Bael sat down on the cold stone of the summoning room floor and closed his eyes in concentration. There had to be some way that he could weaken the door without his opponent realizing, something subtle that would be hard to spot.

Sawing the door in half and then gluing it back together was tempting but much too obvious, as was tampering with the locks, of which it had several. Besides there was no knowing what spell his future foil would use to reinforce them. Bael got up and ran his fingers over the door from top to bottom looking for a weakness that he could exploit. There had to be something, some little detail that he had overlooked.

His eyes settled on the hinges. Something about them stood out, and it wasn’t the fact that they were over an inch thick and made from solid steel. Bael had never been the handiest of demons but living on his own had required that he learn certain basics of home maintenance. With a plan starting to form in his head Bael went to the kitchen and hunted around until he found a screwdriver.

***

“What were you up to this morning?” Maharet asked as they ate breakfast. Bael had attempted to make toast and the subsequent smoke and flames had woken her up. She had banished him to the library while she made something fit for demonic consumption. “I could swear I heard power tools.”

“I was watching a TV show on home improvement.” Bael lied. He had gone to the hardware store to pick up some tools and supplies. The nice man with the tool belt had sold him something called a “Milwaukee drill”.

“The main character was attempting to improve his wife’s dishwasher, it was quite humorous.” Bael continued. “Apparently human men are expected to own tools and fix things around the house so I went out and bought some of my own.”

“Well don’t let that TV show give you any ideas.” Maharet warned, her voice only slightly warmer than the polar ice caps. “The book I was reading warned about the dangers of do it yourself repairs. At least when men do them.”

Bael sipped his coffee while he chose his next words. Apparently she was still angry with him. “Are we going to talk about last night?” He asked.

“What’s there to talk about? If your dream really was a premonition then there’s nothing we can do about it. Or were you talking about how you told me you wanted me out of your head?” Maharet raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny it.

“Look, it’s nothing personal but nobody deserves to be stuck in my head with me. It’s not a nice place to be, and I should know. You’re better off if we get this all sorted out as soon as possible and go our separate ways.” Bael felt the sense that something else was needed. “Look, if I had to have someone in my head there could be worse demons than you, but I’d rather keep to myself. So I’m sorry if I was a little harsh last night.”

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Maharet nodded. “Alright, but in the future try and think before you speak. We’re connected now, that makes it harder for me to brush you off when you say something mean.”

Bael hadn’t thought about that. As long as he had known her Maharet had been a firestorm, a force of nature that destroyed everything in her way. Of course there was a demon underneath all that hellfire but he felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Or was that just the bond talking?

“Hurry up and finish your breakfast.” Maharet said. “I made us an appointment to meet with that angel and I don’t want to be late.”

Bael let out a groan feeling like Indiana Jones about to crawl into a snake pit. Why did it have to be angels? Why did it always have to be angels?

***

“Don’t you think that name is just a little bit too on point?” Bael asked, gesturing towards a sign that read “Arms of the Angels Adoption Agency” in elaborate flowing script.

“Angels aren’t know for their subtlety.” Maharet said with a shrug. “They’re a lot more Sulphur and brimstone than guile and wit. Of course that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with, to them it’s their way or the highway.”

That fit with what Bael could remember from his few dealings with them. They were also terrifying to encounter on the battlefield. Going toe to toe with an angel was like trying to take out a tank with a fly swatter, an angry holier than thou tank with perfect hair and teeth. They were death with wings.

(The humans had created a similar weapon that against all odds had survived both the battlefield and budget cuts. They called it the A-10 Warthog. However, it was the enemy that prayed when they saw it coming.)

A human secretary led them to an office where the angel in charge was patiently waiting for them. Bael looked him over, he didn’t know what he had been expecting but it wasn’t bleached blond dreadlocks and Birkenstocks. There was a crucifix around the angel’s neck but it was carved from a coconut shell and hanging from a hand braided hemp cord.

“Hey, I’m Zaphiel but people around here call me Zephyr.” The angel introduced himself to Bael. “Of course Maharet and I go way back.” He said with a wink that made Bael feel strangely jealous. “Now, I understand you are trying to find a home for a little girl that is in your care. How exactly did that come about.”

Keeping his cards close to his chest Bael decided to tell the truth, but not all of it. “Maharet bet me I couldn’t find Six a loving human family by the end of the year. I was able to appeal to Maharet’s self interest and she agreed to stay and help, so that’s why we’re here.”

Zephyr gave her a look. “How did that happen?”

“He tricked me.” Maharet explained. “If he doesn’t complete his task in time we’re both stuck here. I decided that I would rather lose than be trapped in the mortal realm.”

“Ah,” the angel said, pressing together his long thin fingers. “I was worried that it might be a Damien type situation.” When he saw their lack of comprehension he explained. “Damien was the son of the Devil in the movie The Omen.”

Bael looked to Maharet. “We don’t really watch many movies. But I assure you Josh, the boss’s son is safe and sound in hell where he belongs.”

“Josh?” Zephyr asked incredulously. “The anti-christ is named Josh?”

“He’s quite a disappointment really.” Bael continued. “Josh has made it clear in no uncertain terms that he has no intention of following in his mother’s hoof prints. All he wants to do is paint and smoke pot.” Bael wrinkled his nose. “You two would probably get along swimmingly.”

A guilty look of surprise crossed the angel’s face. “It’s medicinal.” He sputtered. “I have anxiety.”

“What, nervous flyer?” Bael asked. After letting the angel roast in his own paranoia for a bit he continued. “Anyways, we’re not here to talk about how you unwind after a long day. We’re here to help find a little girl a home so both Maharet and I can get back to hell where we belong.”

“And you’re absolutely sure she isn’t the spawn of Satan?” Zephyr pressed.

“Reasonably sure.” Bael said.