Fate's Design

Decorating for the Antichrist

Another week went by. Bast had been in and out of the manor almost daily with updates on which of the ancient gods would stand with Hell when the time came. By the end of the month, Lucifer revealed what else had been planned before Abaddon had gone on vacation.

“My son is about to come to us.”

“Your son? As in the antichrist, destroyer of worlds and all of that?”

“The very same. He was born five years ago. The child was born of both demon and human. His mother, a devout follower of the same God we have deemed necessary to destroy, did not survive the birth. The pregnancy was hard for her and the strictest instructions that, should the worst happen, it was her child who needed to be saved. Her doctor was none other than the demon Marzan. He switched out my son for a mundane child to give to the grieving husband. He will be bringing my son to me within the week and together we shall destroy all that God has created for his own greedy purposes!”

This news surprised Abaddon. He, of course, knew that the apocalypse would begin with the child of Lucifer, but he'd imagined that the child hadn't even been conceived yet. Now he was learning that the child was, in fact, almost six years old and the apocalypse was hurtling toward them at breakneck speed. It was happening much faster than he'd anticipated and his excitement far outweighed his irritation at being kept out of the loop on the antichrist front.

“We have little time to waste then. We have captured the angels Gabriel, Michael, Rafael, and Yial. We know that Azrael, being the Angel of Death is on no side but her own and she cares only about cleaning up afterward. She does, however enjoy keeping a balance of souls. We have brought her over to our side with the promise of a forbidden love and she is willing to abandon her desire for balance for that promise.”

“All good news. Any luck corrupting the captured angels? I know that Michael is a lost cause, loyal to God to a fault, but perhaps the others might be persuaded?”

“I was getting to that. Gabriel was persuaded quite easily. You see, he spent a brief time as a trickster God and enjoyed it immensely. He simply asked that he be able to resume that role and play on our side. Rafael is remaining sullen and standoffish as usual, and Yial simply joined because she doesn't wish to die.”

“And what have you done with Michael?”

“He has been tortured. He remains imprisoned for you to do as you please.”

Lucifer smiled. The old battle flashed in his eyes. It had been Michael who threw him from Heaven on God’s command and Lucifer could taste revenge close at hand.

“I shall go give our brother a visit in a moment. This is something I want to do before my son comes to join us. I have a delivery coming today.”

“What weapons are we getting in today?”

“Hellhounds. We're getting a breeding pair along with a dozen others. I have set up an area in the back for them. All of the necessary precautions have been taken. You will get them loaded in their kennels and get them fed once they arrive.”

“Of course! It's been centuries since I've worked with a Hellhound. It'll be good to bond with the new shipment of the brutes.”

“I thought this would please you. Under your command they will serve us well in the war.”

Lucifer left then. Abaddon went upstairs and changed out of his suit. A suit was not the proper attire for dealing with Hellhounds. When you worked with these creatures you wanted to be able to move and be protected in case one nips or grabs at you. Jeans, work boots, and a t-shirt with a canvas or denim jacket would work nicely. He hopped in the shower to remove any non-demonic scent from his body and changed into the work clothes. The moment he stepped off the bottom stair in the foyer, the doorbell gonged. When he answered, he was surprised to see Marzan with a small, dark haired boy with darker eyes standing glumly beside him.

“You're early Marzan. That's just as bad as being late. He isn't here now and I'm expecting a delivery of the canine variety shortly and cannot keep track of a boy too. You'll have to bring him back at the correct time.”

Abaddon was whispering menacingly into Marzan’s ear as a large truck hauling an iron and lead trailer. The heavy trailer was rocking precariously. The boy looked slightly more interested as he turned toward the trailer. Abaddon grabbed him and shoved him into Marzan.

“Unfortunately kiddo, your dad isn't here right now and you'll have to come back when he gets home.”

The boy looked up at Abaddon. There was no emotion in his eyes.

“Fine. Let's go Kyle. Your father won't want you around the beasts just yet.”

Marzan grabbed Kyle by shoulder and ushered him into the town car at the foot of the stairs. Abaddon strolled straight down to the truck and trailer to oversee Castor with the Hellhounds. Castor was stout, built like the foundation to a brick house. His legs were like ancient oak stumps, his torso matched. His arms were short and wide to the point they almost seemed to not have an elbow joint. His fingers were gnarled and stumpy. His voice was that of a man who smoked a pack a day since birth.

“These damn things nearly escaped on that s**t country road. You have a kennel for the fuckers?”

“Yea. We have a kennel Castor. Let's get them out of here.”

The Hellhounds needed to be intensively secured during transportation because otherwise they would simply go after every available human soul within a twenty-five mile radius. Hellhounds needed authority and no demon controlled them better than Abaddon. He'd always found a way to bond with them. It was part of his powers of charm and manipulation. Castor, on the other hand, had no real talent with the beasts. He simply used force as he did with everything else. He was an immensely angry demon who took out his frustrations on everything else around him. He reminded Abaddon of a gruff, grumbly, profane rock troll or evil dwarf. Castor wrenched open the trailer and began laying about the Hellhounds with his burly fists.

“There’ll be no need for that. Sit!”

Abaddon’s voice rang out perfectly calm and stern. It was loud enough to be heard over the din of growls and snarls, yelps and thuds. Twenty-eight ears stood at attention as fourteen canine rumps landed on the floor of the trailer. Castor stopped swinging and jumped back out of the trailer, looking up at the calm face of his counterpart.

“Should I just leave this to you then?”

“Sure. Go ahead and get yourself a beer to cool you down. There's a cooler on the porch.”

Castor grumbled something unintelligible as he skulked up toward the porch, leaving Abaddon to deal with the Hellhounds.

“Alright troops! Let's keep it organized and orderly. Everyone follow me to the kennels.”

Abaddon began walking, sensing the padding of the Hellhounds behind him. There was no growling, no snarling or biting. He led the hounds to the kennels in the pasture behind the manor. In turn, he instructed each hound to enter an individual kennel until they were all safely locked away. He double checked each lock and made his way back to the manor. Castor was sitting on the top step of the porch, downing a fourth can of Bud. Abaddon had only been gone a few minutes. Castor got up when he saw Abaddon. “Things are too easy for you. One day a Hellhound is gonna bite you in the ass and you'll learn that my way is better. They need to fear pain!”

“I'm sorry you feel that way. Not everything needs to be forced. Controlling an animal, really controlling it, is not a matter of force. It is a matter of authority. You have to convince the animal that you know what it needs more than it does. Simple as that.”

Castor scoffed and drained his beer, crushing the can with emphasis. “I'll leave you to your master manipulation then.”

"Watch your own back, Castor. You don't want me to start using force on you do you? You remember the torture chambers of Hell, don't you?” A smirk vanished off Castor’s face. He stomped back down the stairs and into the truck. He gunned the truck off the manor property and was gone.

Abaddon went back into the manor. He changed into a pair of shorts and running shoes. He went down to the manor’s home gym and spent the next two hours there. He put his frustration toward Castor and his snide comments into each exercise. He was a damn greater demon. The second in command to Lucifer himself; he didn't dare punish Castor for his impertinence because of how useful the demon could be, but he was unused to being spoken to in that manner. He was a dangerous enemy. He was the brother of War and Death was his mistress. He would remember the way Castor had spoken to him and make the other demon pay for his stupidity. Castor may not survive this war and Abaddon would not grieve his loss.

Lucifer was gone for another week. He had business with the gods that required his personal attention. He called Abaddon the third day he was gone. “Marzan will be bringing my son to stay at the manor tomorrow morning. It is not safe for him to be where the minions of God could get to him. Keep an eye on him. Maybe have him help with the Hellhounds.”

“Sure thing. The boy seems calm enough to have good control over a Hellhound. I'll have him help me train one of the younger ones. We've got a good group of them her.”

“Good. Thank you my friend. I had hoped I'd be back in time to meet the boy but these gods need some more persuasion.”

“No problem. I'll spend some time with your kid.”   

Lucifer hung up, satisfied with Abaddon’s response. Abaddon got to work setting up a room for the antichrist. He wasn't sure what a five-year-old boy, let alone the destroyer of worlds, was into. He decided on dinosaurs and space. The ceiling was a map of the Milky Way while the walls were a prehistoric jungle filled with hidden Velociraptors, Compies, Pterodactyls, and other extinct reptilian monsters. He decided the kid would want a big comfy bed with lots of jumping potential. The bedspread was navy blue while the sheets were forest green. All Abaddon had to do was imagine what he wanted the room to look like and there it was. After living as a human as long as he had, Abaddon had nearly forgotten this aspect of his demonic powers. In the past month with Lucifer, he'd once again perfected it.

He finished with the boy's bedroom and went downstairs for lunch. He was on a greens and proteins kick, so he had a large chicken breast and huge pile of mixed greens salad topped with avocado and heirloom tomatoes and tossed with a lemon and garlic dressing. He fixed his salad, mixing everything together in a bowl, grabbed a giant glass of ice water, and brought it all out into the living room to enjoy his meal. He'd barely eaten half his meal when there was a soft knock on the door. Abaddon hadn't been expecting company, so he was surprised to see a familiar face when he answered the door.