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  “Put a stop to what?” Big Momma asked.

  Immanuel snapped Her head over to stare at Mom. She said: “From one Mother to another,” She told her, “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know. You are fully aware of how all of your safety and luxury have been paid for.”

  She did. She asked: “What do you intend to do?”

  Immanuel returned to cooing and talking sweet gibberish to the baby girl. “Unfortunately,” She said, holding the child close to Her bosom, “Only this,” and She kissed the baby on her soft spot. She went limp. The baby went to sleep and died right there on the spot.

  This time, all of the women screamed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Not exactly the answer our hapless prophet

  Was looking for:

  “And if I don’t?” Job asked. Ovid returned with something long and metal black and heavy. He stood in front of Jonah, beside his boss.

  “Immanuel says you will lose what is most precious to you. She says that all you hold dear shall be utterly destroyed.”

  “I see,” Job said, staring hate and growing cruelty at Jonah the prophet. “Ovid, you bring the Judge?” he asked. Ovid held up a tire iron for him to see. “Good,” Job replied when seeing the weapon poetic. “Now cave this fool’s head in.”

  And, before Jonah could even get a protective forearm up, Ovid cold-cocked him with the Judge and knocked Jonah unconscious. Then, Ovid continued to beat on Jonah until all that was left of God’s prophet was wet sticky clay

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Getting out of hand:

  “I suggest you text Job,” Immanuel advised. “He’s hurting my prophet.” She placed the dead baby gently betwixt her bare luminescent feet. Another one of the moms moved to get to her baby, sitting peacefully on Immanuel’s lap. Michael put forth his hand, pointing a finger at her. She rose straight up from the carpeted floor, plastering her against the ceiling, suspended and immobile. “Hurry up,” She scolded, irritated, holding the new baby close, “This is getting out of hand.”

  “Okay, okay,” Job’s mother replied. She grabbed a phone and began furiously thumbing away.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jonah looked like a jig-saw puzzle

  With a couple of pieces gone:

  Invisible, Pedro stood nearby, as directed by Immanuel. He’d followed Jonah to the penthouse. Pedro witnessed Jonah get killed with a tire iron and then some.

  “Finish Tacitus and then make six pieces of this guy too,” Job ordered Ovid, who turned back to cutting up Tacitus.

  These poor bastards, thought Pedro as he watched the scene, they all die badly.

  Pedro waited for Job to leave. Immanuel wanted to deal with Job. Satan’s newest Antichrist, She was saving for Herself. He had to do away with the geek before Pedro could get safely and quietly to Jonah.

  Pedro came up from behind and squeezed Ovid’s neck, shutting off the gas. Ovid went dark and slumped back against Pedro. He brought the geek quiet to the floor. He looked all around and found all coasts clear. Then he scooped Jonah up and brought his dead ass back home again.

  Poor Pedro was getting used to saving him. Jonah wasn’t really much, as far as prophets usually go.

  But Jonah was growing on Pedro, despite his best intentions to the contrary.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Harbor’s calling:

  “Gotta say sumpin’,” Ovid croaked, hands on his knees, to Job who was tromping down the stairs. He just rose up from the floor. Tacitus still lay in pieces on the ground beside him, but the dead prophet was long gone.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Job asked Ovid.

  “Sumpin’ choke me,” Ovid tried, “Took the other guy.”

  And he was right, Jonah was gone. Only the bloody tire iron and a coughing Ovid remained.

  “Well, get rid of this shit then,” Job ordered, “with a quick-step.”

  Job walked around, trying to figure it out. He was ready to see if the Pharisees had security cameras pointing down where the dead as nails Tacitus was being gathered and bundled by the new Herod’s cops. But, before he could investigate further what happened to his equally dead prophet, a cop came running up to him. He handed Job the telephone.

  “What is it now?” Job asked.

  “It’s a text from your Mom, Herod,” the cop replied. “It’s a 911 call.”

  Job grabbed it, reading with dread.

  “Oh, no,” he said. Job looked up and locked eyes with his men. “Get strapped,” he said, moving toward the front door, checking his clip. “I wanna be on our way to The Harbor five minutes ago.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  His heart dropped as fast as he did:

  In the playroom they could all hear Job and his cops kick in the front door and run their macho asses hard toward them. Job’s mother put her hands up. She was trying to slow them down, before they come busting ass into the playroom and scare everybody. She couldn’t do it, they just bulled over her. Job had his cops, all five of them, file through the open doorway with their guns out and safeties off.

  Michael glared at them. “Secure,” Immanuel softly commanded and the angel pointed at them as they rushed into the room.

  “Melt,” the angel said. In an instant the gunmetal melted to their gun hands, solidifying with a loud hiss and clicking sounds. They all dropped painful to their collective knees, howling to beat the band. “Silence,” Michael added and their mouths were erased. All of it: the lips, pie-hole, teeth, tongue and all. “Sleep,” he finished and they did.

  Only Job remained standing. He stood and stared silent at the tableau laid out before him. He took in a great big breath to steady himself.

  “Be calm,” his mother advised. Job nodded his agreement.

  “There’s no play here,” Immanuel warned, “So quit trying to think of a way out. You will only lose another one of your children.”

  Job hesitated. He wanted Jorgie here so he could advise Job; tell him what he should do. By wishing Job was inadvertently calling out for his Hellish father. She had warned him. Too bad Job didn’t heed Her fair warning. Cold began coalescing in the room from Satan being summoned.

  Immanuel’s smile turned upside down. She held the baby close. She kissed this one’s soft spot in the same place as the last one. The little boy closed his eyes and stopped breathing. He was gone before you knew it.

  Job’s heart dropped as fast as he did.

  “I giveth,” She told him, bringing the dead baby from her chest down to her lap, “And I can taketh away.”

  A third toddler came happily up to Immanuel as she reverently placed the second dead baby beside the first.

  “No,” Job cried, “Please stop this,” he pleaded.

  “And that’s the exact same thing I want from you,” Immanuel told him. She held the new little one close to Her. The baby was giggling. Immanuel gazed up at Job. “Dismantle this atrocity,” She commanded him, “And do it right now.”

  Job, with tears rolling river fast down his quaking face, nodded his assent.

  “Anything,” he promised Her, “I’ll do anything.”

  Immanuel nodded and handed the unharmed baby back to its grateful mother, the one mother who wisely hugged a quiet corner during the whole ordeal.

  Chapter Forty

  All but the shouting:

  Jonah came to abruptly at home, again in his bed. Jonah’s head splintered when he tried to move it and his jaw would not budge at all.

  Jonah remembered everything up until the Judge knocked him the fuck out. He remembered giving the Herod Immanuel’s mandate and failing utterly to convince him, to get through to him. Jonah felt he had failed and did it in grand style.

  Jonah slowly opened his eyes and there was Pedro sitting on a chair beside the bed, dwarfing it with his bulk.

  “I fucked up,” Jonah told him, “I know I gotta go back and do it right.” Jonah made an attempt to heave himself up. He immediately felt faint and nauseous, the room whirling like a de
rvish.

  Pedro put his huge mitt on Jonah’s chest and gently pushed him back to a laying position. “No,” he said. “You did well, prophet, and Immanuel is pleased.”

  “But he obviously didn’t listen to me,” Jonah replied, indicating his tar-beaten face.

  “It was only your job to tell him,” Pedro informed him, “not for him to comply.” Pedro shrugged his massive shoulders, “Some people need an eternal influence.”

  “She went to see Job?”

  “Yes,” Pedro told him, “She made him see the light.”

  “So,” Jonah asked, “It’s over?”

  “All but the shouting,” Pedro said. Then he actually smiled at Jonah. The fucking little blasphemer was definitely growing on Pedro.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust:

  All three of the young mothers stood before a seated Immanuel. Job’s mother stood herself near him. They held on to each other just as tight as they could.

  Immanuel placed a flat palm on the young mother’s lower back and the other one just above her pubis bone. The mom smiled at Her through the tears. Heat from Her magus filled the room. Everyone could feel it, some began sweating. Immanuel smiled back at her.

  “We can choose who we want to be,” She told her. “And even when we want to return to this earth.” She looked up with Love to the mom. She said: “Yours, dear one, wishes to come back right away.” She paused for a moment then added: “And she shall have a womb mate.”

  The mom hugged Immanuel, thanking Her with all her heart. Her dead baby dissolved then, dissolved right into the dust from which she came, right there on the floor before them all.

  The second young mother approached Immanuel, hoping for the same blessings. Job cried throughout all this. He was unimpeded and unashamed. The tears flowed like rain down glass. It shall be twins for them both, her baby also evaporating into a fine pile of dust.

  From across the room from where she held court, Immanuel looked at the window and it opened wide. A small conical funnel swirled near the two piles. Twirling, it scooped them easily up and transported the dust in the sirocco toward the window and out into eternity, as free as the dust in the wind.

  As soon as Job could gather his composure, he asked for a phone.

  “We are done,” Job assured all of them, “This ends now.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Despite the fear, her need to protect the baby

  From the boy was nearly overwhelming:

  The door opened and Salome recognized one of her handlers as the nurse entered. She came with Salome’s shot and she put out her arm to receive it. The nurse shot her full and then she did something completely new, she spoke to Salome. She said: “My Benefactor has asked me to convey his best wishes to you.”

  “Tacitus, that shit,” Salome spat through her collapsed mouth, “Fuck that turd.”

  “It’s not Tacitus,” the handler informed her, “He’s dead. Job is in charge now. My Benefactor has a message for you.”

  “What happened,” she asked, then changed her mind, “I don’t really care, as long as Tacitus got his. Job is a capable fellow and we have no bad blood between us.”

  “That’s pretty much what he said, but also,” she added, “he wanted me to tell you that he is giving you, if you desire, your freedom.”

  “I can go?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Saul?” Salome asked, “What about my baby?”

  “Both Job and my Benefactor agree with you keeping the baby,” she replied, “But he needed to let you know that Job is out. You can go or stay, but very soon there will be no one around to take care of either of you.”

  Salome only half listened to that last part, her ears kept ringing on that one word: freedom. And all that pertained to it.

  Salome stood up from the divan and, carrying baby Saul, went poking around to see what she would need to pack.

  “I’ll need some money,” stated the former Herod. She stopped and turned to the nurse, “How much Plata,” Salome wanted to know, “can we take with us?”

  The nurse stood to leave. With a smile, but without another word, she removed a small, ornate injection kit. She opened it up and showed Salome everything she would need to stay happy and high. A multi-gram container with ready to shoot Plata and a second vial with her TPN mixture of nutritional supplements, growth hormone, and a lactation-producing enzyme sat next to it. Snug as a bug.

  “Perfect,” Salome replied. The handler made it to the door. “Do I get to meet your Benefactor?” she asked.

  The nurse left the door unlocked as she stood in the doorway. “Of course you get to meet him,” she replied. “He’s your Benefactor now.”

  Salome was packing for her and baby Saul when she noticed the boy standing beside her. The fear she instantly felt cut straight through the Plata cocoon she was enveloped in. The boy went over to where Saul lay in a bassinet, dozing peacefully. He knelt over the rail, but did not touch him.

  “Handsome lad,” Jorgie porgie complimented Salome.

  “Thank you, young man,” she responded and moved to get between the boy and her baby. Despite the fear, her need to protect the baby from the boy was nearly overwhelming.

  “You do not need to fear me,” Jorgie said, “I mean you and Saul no harm.”

  Salome scooped the baby up and stepped a few quick feet away from Jorgie. She did feel better, though, after he stated those intentions.

  “Who are you and what do you want from us then?” Salome asked, thinking of a weapon, just in case. Salome was afraid because there was none.

  “I have many names, of course,” Jorgie said and began to grow slowly out of Jorgie’s child-like disguise and into the eight foot tall Lucifer. “Call me what you will,” he told her, “and what I want is easy, Salome,” he said.

  She stared, gasping and fearful as he grew into the one she just knew made the dents in the cement floor. The rug beneath his feet buckled as the cement cracked under his abominable weight. He knelt before her, floor snapping and crushing. The devil smiled at Salome.

  “I won’t let you harm him in any way,” the scared Salome promised.

  “Please do not let his safety concern you,” he told her, “For I am your Benefactor. I have come to pave the way for your son to become a most powerful man. I will have the Pharisees, in their current form as sentient spirits protect and advise both you and Saul. We shall have you and the baby moved into their LakeShore penthouse, as is befitting a protégé of mine and his mother. Job has disappointed me, but Saul and you, I am certain, will not.”

  “What will you need from me?” Salome asked him.

  “For the time being, I shall need you only to rest and heal. Strive to reduce your dependence on Plata; the baby needs you. Then, soon enough, I will give back to you your crown, Salome. You will, in time, become Caesar and rebuild the Plata Empire the Pharisees had wrought and Job has dismantled. With this as our power base, together you, Saul and I will bring this Earth to its knees.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Lucifer’s grand design:

  Salome hugged baby Saul closer, feeling his wee talons scratched open her partly healed wounds on her chest and bruised breasts. She knew this was the Devil in the flesh and she should be dead of fright, but she was not. Lucifer smiled at her, attempting to put her fear in check. He placed whole in her mind what was in his. Salome appeared rigid and slightly convulsive from the outside; but in an instant fear left forevermore as Satan filled her head with the sugarplums of his future designs. She saw what the Dark God had planned for her and Saul.

  Salome now saw past the drugs and money that will be part of their new future, past the palatial home that she and Saul will share. Satan showed to her the blood and how it shall spill in thick streams as sacrifices to her son, her vampire baby, the devil’s new protégé, Humankind’s truly born Antichrist. She smiled. She was pleased.

  “The Minister Saul Sinister,” Salome said with that h
uge and growing smile. “That’s what the baby will become?”

  “Yes,” he said, “but it shall be President Minister,” Satan corrected.

  Salome’s empty mouth smiled her crone’s smile and she cackled with a witch’s glee.

  “President?” she asked. It was the Devil’s turn to smile.

  Salome held baby Saul tight to her sore bosom. She kissed him on the head, glad she did not follow her first instinct to kill the son of Tacitus.

  “What happened to Tacitus, his father? Something bad, I hope.”

  “Not to worry,” Lucifer assured, “It was.”

  Demons appeared and began to pack up Salome and Saul’s things in a hurry. They all left together for much more comfortable environs, to where all of Salome’s dreams were made manifest, and Saul shall grow tall and strong on the tutelage of Hell’s Own and to dream of the day when he will sup from the pure flowing blood of Christians everywhere.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Stick a fork in him, he’s done:

  Job had his helmet light switched on and it scanned the smooth cement walls all around him. He pushed the forward lever and the speed increased on the small rail train, traveling underground between the two silos. Job was deep inside the de-commissioned missile silo in the icy wind-swept plains of the Black Hills state. Job and his family were settling in to their new home.