Loose Ends II

A golden glow bathed Brunhilde's body as gilded chains made of ethereal steel bound her wrists, ankles, and neck. Her torso glowed with a bright light when an extremely complex set of sigils engraved itself upon her chest and half completed the oath.

All Irwin had to do was burn his other half of the contract and receive a metaphorical 'key' that would physically allow him to command-and-control Brunhilde's every action. He completed the ritual and felt the branding on his right wrist become overshadowed by an ethereal mark.

Unlike Will Domination, her feelings for him will never magically change, but, like Will Domination, she could never willingly betray him or his interests. She could curse him, want him dead, or even make petty rumors about him, yet that was the extent of her capabilities.

Since she was now under his command, Irwin let Brunhilde rest for a while and let her mind realize the gravity of her situation. He even took out a 70-credit talisman that could regenerate any broken skin, destroyed organs, and stitch up her sliced off forearm at a rapid rate as a sign of his generosity.

She, however, showed not much gratitude to the gift, an act that amused Irwin.

While she was healing herself and mourning her friends, Irwin watched with interest as the angels piled up corpses into a mountain of limbs and carcasses. To his surprise, they were extremely efficient with the lesser angels being designated as the carriers for the corpses while the Seraphim were the exterminators.

That surprise, however, turned into annoyance when Balthazar appeared next to him and sat down, a bottle of merlot in his hands. The angel was still stealing his liquor and, although he does not drink, it still irked him to be a repository for the angel's alcoholism.

"How many does that make?" He asked, with a sneer.

"Seven." Balthazar smirked. "So, how's your body feeling right now? Any side-effects?"

"Mitigated it with a talisman–an expensive one, at that." Irwin showed the necklaces he wore. One was Ereshkigal's amulet, and the other was called Over-morrow Talisman.

The moment the fifteen minutes were up, Angel's Grace left his body and it left it wrecked and destroyed like a superstore after Black Friday. His organs pushed aside, rotted, blood curdled like milk, and his brain spasmed like an exhausted muscle.

It was terrible. He, however, had already expected the aftermath when he read the item's warning message. Before he and Hadriel teleported to Dagon, he scoured and bought the 129-credit necklace that, as the name stated, would delay any negative effects to the next day.

"So… how are they?" Irwin asked.

Balthazar let out a hearty chuckle, "Your cook tried to kill me. I didn't even count how many times she threw a plate at me."

"That's good. That's just like her." Irwin smiled, one full of relief and sorrow before changing the topic of the conversation. "How's Heaven at the moment?"

"You know I can't tell you that. The only reason I'm hanging out with you is because you promised me safety during the war." Balthazar said, shaking his head. "What I can tell you though, is that he's coming."

Irwin was perplexed. "Who is coming–"

"I am." Barchiel appeared in front of him.

Unlike his filthy, bedraggling appearance when they fought a couple of months ago, Barchiel was now wearing an intricately carved metal breastplate over his white robes. His long blonde hair and piercing brown eyes paled in comparison to the warm smile he had on his face.

"You have my utmost gratitude, Irwin." Barchiel bowed his head lightly, the highest a mortal could receive from the warrior-servant of the Lord.

"Glad you're alive, Barchiel." Irwin said, not minding the light bow.

While it may have been offending to some, as Irwin had basically offered salvation from eternal slavery, both of them knew that they had used each other to their personal quest. In fact, it was a wonder to Irwin as to why Barchiel was still thanking him.

Balthazar snapped his fingers and conjured a chair for Barchiel to sit upon, which the latter took with little regard for personal safety. Who knows where that chair came from and why it was reeking of infernal energy?

Barchiel took in the surroundings before turning his attention towards Irwin, "I sense something about you since we last spoke."

"A lot of shit happened. Most of which I don't remember." Irwin replied honestly.

Balthazar tilted his head in curiosity and could not help but ask."Is that something humans do in front of pain or just something you do?"

Irwin shrugged his shoulders, "Eh. Sometimes we do, but, honestly, I only remember the length of the torture. I black out after that."

"I can offer my expertise on that matter." Barchiel cleared his throat. "The blackouts are a signature of Demonic Tortures. It is done to amplify the agony, both mental and physical, caused by the incarceration."

"Really? Tell me more." Irwin motioned for Barchiel to speak up.

"For instance, Irwin gets tortured for one hour. The demons then rob you of your senses, which means you have no way to tell time or even know if they are still there or have left you alone. After, say, six hours, you regain your senses and they continue the torture. By doing so, the demons are able to continually inflict and significantly increase the pain upon their forms because the captives cannot tell if the pain they received was new or old pain." Barchiel said.

"Psychological torture." Irwin muttered.

"What a fascinating technique." Balthazar remarked as he rubbed his chin with his free hand.

"I agree." Said Barchiel. "I believe this technique was derived from an old and lesser torture technique of Hell's Grand torturer. Which, frankly, is still astonishing."

"Oh, yes. It's quite not up to par with our own, but to think that someone was ingenious enough to recreate Alistair's work…" Balthazar whistled in appreciation.

Barchiel was about to say something more, but found himself staring at Irwin's face. He chewed on his words before changing the subject. "But that was not what I was talking about, Irwin."

Irwin noticed that he was being included in the conversation and shook off the thoughts in his head. "Then what do you mean?"

"You reek of fear and dread and sorrow and anticipation…" The angel continued, "When I first met you, however short it was, I felt you reeking of fear and feared that it would slowly consume you. I'm glad it did not."

Irwin shrugged his shoulders. "Well… just had some epiphany, I guess."

Balthazar chuckled, "You know what they say–"

"If you say, 'God works in mysterious ways.' I will banish you from the island." Irwin threatened Balthazar for ruining the moment.

Balthazar snorted in contempt. "Fine. The Garrison's done, anyway."

Sure enough, Malkanthor dropped the last corpse onto the pile before he and the rest of the Garrison teleported next to them. Hadriel sat in exhaustion next to Balthazar, grabbing his liquor bottle and taking a swig.

Jerushah scoffed as he gazed at Barchiel. "It appears that Heaven has allowed you down after all. Even through that shit you put us through."

Barchiel glared at the other angel. "Your concern over me is greatly appreciated."

"Enough." Malkanthor sighed in exasperation before turning towards Irwin. "Our deal is done."

"It is." Irwin nodded, standing up and stretching his body. "I assume you guys can travel through time?"

The question startled most, if not all, of the angels present and their guards immediately raised upon realizing the gravity of the situation. Irwin noticed their tense expressions and chuckled while raising his hands in defeat.

"You seem to have a lot of information about our kind?" Malkanthor asked with a suspicious gaze.

"Relax. It's not like you'll be going to do anything to me." Irwin motioned for them to lower their gazes. "You're going to need to travel to Nazi-occupied France in 1943. There's a doomed submarine called USS Bluefin that sank near the Atlantic. They have a stowaway named Delphine something–I forgot her name–and she has a piece of the Ark of the Covenant which she will use to permanently kill the Thule army that was chasing them."

There was a brief moment of silence as the angels waited for Malkanthor's reply. The angel in question, however, was chewing on Irwin's words, eyes dilating ever so faintly. In his brief time as an angel, Irwin surmised that Malkanthor was tuning on Angel Radio.

Malkanthor returned his attention to Irwin, "How… Do you know all of this?"

Irwin shrugged, "That's not part of our deal."

"I see." The angel said, motioning for his Garrison to get up from their seats. "Our deal is done. We hope to never meet you again, Irwin Bellios."

With that, Malkanthor was gone and so were Hadriel and Jerushah, along with the other nameless angels. All that was left was Balthazar and Barchiel, who were still gazing at Irwin with boundless curiosity.

"I sense a problem with that Hand of God." Balthazar remarked, eyeing Irwin with suspicion.

Irwin grinned, standing from his seat and towards the mountain of corpses. "Telling you would be spoilers. And I don't like spoilers."