Deicide (Hellbound Trilogy)

by Tim Hawken

  “Marlowe,” I said with authority. “Put away your sword. We need to go and speak with Mary.”

  THIRTEEN

  MARLOWE, GERMAINE AND I FLEW OVER HELL in a triangle formation. I was the spearhead at the front, holding the other two with a wrap of elements, pushing us through the sky. Germaine had said he could fly on his own, but I needed him to save his strength. I was still wary that letting him tap into his powers would draw him toward the tainted side of his personality. I didn’t want to risk that for mere flight. I would only do so for our attack.

  The darkened buildings of Satan’s Demise faded beneath us and the glow of Smoking Gun shone ahead. The beacon of sin rose up in all its hideous glory. Zipping through the concrete skyscrapers and over casinos, I darted toward Magdalene’s Mansion. Seeing the red glass building up ahead, I began to slow. Far below, people milled like scurrying ants. Cars sped around each other on the lawless roads. It was curious to me that, despite all these souls having eternity to live their lives, they still rushed around in a daily hustle. Old habits died hard.

  Skimming up towards the rooftop of Mary’s, I set us down gently. Two familiar demons stood sentry at the door that led down into Hell’s largest brothel. The first was Forneus, a blue lust demon whose body had weeping sores from head to toe. The other was deep orange with a drooping potbelly and bulbous head as wide as his gargantuan stomach. From even this short distance he looked like a deformed hourglass with legs.

  “It’s good to see you, Wharton,” I raised my hand in greeting. His fat face split into a grin at being addressed by name. “You too, Forneus,” I nodded.

  “Greetings, Lord Michael,” Wharton said in a deep baritone voice. His triple chin wobbled as he spoke. “I assume you’ve come to see Madam Magdalene.”

  “Yes. These are my friends Germaine and Marlowe,” I said, motioning to the men who stood silently at my back. “Is she here?”

  “She has been in The Chamber of Maps all day,” Wharton confirmed. “I can take you down.”

  Forneus turned and opened the door, but stayed at his post as Wharton led us down some stairs, into the cool halls of lust that were Magdalene’s Mansion. This high up, there weren’t any pleasure rooms, just a bright corridor leading to an ornate gold lift. The four of us gathered inside its roomy interior and Wharton pressed a button with an eye symbol on it. Without thinking, I pressed the ground floor as well. I stared at the glowing ‘G’ for a few moments.

  “Marlowe, I need you to please go with Germaine down to reception,” I said finally, turning to my African companion. “There will be a woman on reception called Oba; please ask her to summon the pilot called Smithy, my wife Charlotte, and the demon called Clytemnestra. Once they arrive I’ll ask you to make the proper introductions before coming to find us. You met Smithy with me once before and Charlotte will know who you are already,” I added, remembering that she held my memories. “You’ll have to explain about Germaine, though.”

  Germaine cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, good sir, I will explain myself.”

  “So, you can tell lies?” Marlowe scowled, puffing his chest out to assert his dominance. He was the perfect person to watch over Germaine. He would never let his guard down in trust, as I might.

  “So I can tell my truth,” the powerful alchemist next to me snapped.

  Wharton shuffled his feet with uncertainly, his eyes firmly planted on the ground. I suppressed a thankful sigh and took on the demeanour of leadership.

  “You’ll both do as I say.” I stared them down. “Marlowe, you will introduce Germaine as an ally and he will tell his story. You’ll be there to make sure he doesn’t embellish anything. Understood?”

  They both nodded.

  “Wharton,” I said loudly.

  The glutton demon jumped at the mention of his name. He looked up with fear on his face. The elevator slowed to a halt and opened up into a marble corridor. This was my stop.

  “You’ll go with them too and make sure Oba gives them the help they need.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fat wobbled all over his body as he nodded his head furiously.

  “Good. I want all of this done quickly. Don’t keep me waiting.” I left the elevator and let the doors close behind me without looking back. Hearing the lift starting to descend again, I felt myself relax a little. Being a leader still didn’t sit well with me. I struggled telling people what to do. Yet, this was my duty, and duty was never about doing what you wanted, it was about doing what was needed. Even if I didn’t feel like it inside, I had to project an aura of untold strength and constant certainty. At times I was even beginning to believe myself.

  Turning to the left, I looked up. Ahead was a golden door with a sculpture of the circular eye of the universe above it. Wharton had called this place The Chamber of Maps. I simply knew it as Mary’s map room. Wharton’s name was more fitting for the stunning feat of engineering I knew I was about to walk into. Striding forward I came to the door quickly. To the side of it were the stone steps that Judas, Mary and I had come down the first time I had entered here. The memory sent a pang of pain through me. Judas. He was still frozen in a constant state of sleep for helping me. How many others would suffer a similar fate or worse? Their souls weighed on my shoulders. Soon, I would be able to lift them off and send them to Heaven. But first I needed to know how we would get there.

  Without further hesitation I pushed open the doors and entered a micro-universe. A perfect replica of the Earth revolved in front of me. Its green and blue surface, shadowed by swirling white clouds, curved upward ten feet into the air. The southern hemisphere sunk below into the clear glass floor. Above, the Heavens shone in their infinite beauty; stars and rainbow nebulae twinkled right up beyond sight. Bridges of silver light spread through the expanse that represented our eternal goal, like spirit laneways holding the answer to existence. Hell was at my feet as I walked inside. With each step, it churned below in its black and red anger. Mary sat cross-legged at the base of Earth, where the equator fed into the floor. She had her head buried in a large bible and was reading intently.

  “It’s nice to see you have removed the grey of Purgatory here as well,” I called, to let her know that I had arrived.

  Paying me little attention, she held up her hand for silence. I walked to her side and stood above her, waiting, a little annoyed at her dismissal of me. Without looking up from the book, she read aloud to me:

  “And Jesus said unto them, ‘It is not for you to know times or seasons, which the Father has set within His own authority. But ye shall receive power, when the Holy Spirit is come upon you: and ye shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea and Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.’ And when he had said these things, as they were looking, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight. And while they were looking steadfastly into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; who also said, ‘Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was received up from you into heaven shall so come in like manner as ye beheld him going into heaven.’ Then the disciples returned they unto Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is nigh unto Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey off.”

  “The Ascension of Jesus?” I asked her, knowing from my schooling that this was a passage from the bible that told of how Jesus rose from his grave after his crucifixion and went up to Heaven forty days later.

  “I was there.” She looked up, her emerald eyes full of certainty. “It’s exactly how it says. We were at the Mount of Olives and Jesus was taken to Heaven in human form. He was still flesh, Michael. This was after he’d resurrected himself back into human form.”

  “And you think we might be able to follow in his footsteps? Go to Heaven from Earth in our bodies?” I asked, with hope rising inside me.

  “I think so. The ‘men in white’ who appeared after he left were angels. They said when he returned to Earth he would come the same way. Why else would he have to return in th
e same spot unless it was a dedicated pathway between realms?”

  I sat down next her, gripping her arm excitedly. “Are you sure? If you were there, why did you need a bible to remind you?”

  “Because of this,” she said flipping the pages toward the beginning of the book in her lap. “I thought I had read about another reference of a ladder to Paradise. I was right. Listen: ‘Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haran. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it.’” Mary looked up with fervor in her eyes, then read on.

  There above it stood the Lord, and he said: “I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth. You will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” When Jacob awoke, he thought, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.” He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of Heaven!”

  Mary snapped the book shut as an exclamation point to the sentence. She raised her hand and touched the giant globe next to us with her fingertips. It twisted on its axis with a rush of wind. Land masses spun before us. Clouds parted and the Middle East came into view. The Earth expanded to rise before us, revealing an aerial view of modern day Jerusalem. Our vision swept down even further, to a circular courtyard with tall, brick walls of grey and white blocks. In the middle was an octagonal building made of the same stone. It had a domed roof and, on each of the eight walls, was an archway. Each arch was filled in with stone, except for one.

  “This is the Aedicule of The Ascension,” Mary said. “It marks the bottom of Jacob’s Ladder. Our pathway to the gates of Heaven.”

  I stared at the globe in awe. Our future was mapped out right in front of me. This was our destiny. My mind spiraled into thoughts and possibilities, but I wrested it back to the moment. We had to take this one step at a time. Germaine would help resurrect us to Earth and we would climb up further on this ladder to meet Asmodeus.

  “And where would we rise up to Earth?” I questioned.

  Mary flipped her fingers in the air and the globe shifted again slightly. It came to the very bottom of Greece, on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea.

  “The closest Hellmouth is in a cave at Taenarum. It’s at the bottom of Cape Matapan. From there it’s a short journey across the sea to where we can land on the shores of Israel. It won’t be easy entering what is basically a perennial war zone, but it won’t be the hardest part of our journey.”

  My eyes were drawn back to the point of the Aedicule of Ascension and then to the glowing Mary. She had found our path and I had found a way get to it. I wanted to spill out our plan to her, but instead I just took her hand and squeezed it in solemn appreciation. A smile split her face at the touch. Her fingers wrapped around mine and held my hand in her lap. Wavy curls of red hair draped around her alabaster skin. She was a vision. In another world we might have been more than friends, but in this life that could never be. I was content with that; Charlotte was all the love I could ever desire, but I could see in Mary’s eyes that she ached for more. Her eyes – her bottomless, green eyes – I lost myself inside them. They were oceans of jade passion, her pupils black like obsidian. She smelt of jasmine flowers; the scent was intoxicating.

  “Michael!”

  Charlotte’s voice jerked me back into the moment. Mary’s grip on my palm loosened and she leant back, smiling as my wife entered to room. Smithy, Germaine, Marlowe and Clytemnestra followed her.

  “Lotte,” I said, looking up, momentarily confused.

  “I’m so glad you’re all here,” Mary said, standing. “I was just telling Michael that I’ve found a way we can move from Earth to Heaven in bodily form.”

  Lotte’s eyes narrowed for a moment on Mary, before Smithy moved between them and came to shake my hand.

  “That’s brilliant, just brilliant!” he said with glee. “And we will have bodies, thanks to our new friends here! We should have some tea to celebrate.”

  “Germaine told you already?” I asked, letting go of Smithy’s hand and sweeping in to hug my wife.

  I kissed her on the lips and held her tight. Any accusation she held in her eyes melted at our touch. I held her close to me with one arm and nodded my hellos to the others. Clytemnestra had a concerned look on her face. Stress lines crowed out from the corners of her eyes and her mouth was pursed tightly. I looked at her questioningly, but Mary interrupted me before I could ask what was wrong.

  “How are you going to make the bodies?” she asked.

  Germaine stepped forward. His scraggly appearance made him look unhinged, but his gaze was clear. He reached out a bony hand to Mary. She offered hers and Germaine bowed to touch his lips gently to her skin.

  “Miss Magdalene,” he said in a honeyed tone. “I apologize for my state of dress. I haven’t had time to gather proper attire. My name is Germaine and I am a fellow pupil of The Perceptionist’s. I am at Michael’s service and yours.”

  “He will build our earthly vessels for us,” I offered.

  “Yes, but first we must find the secret ingredient,” Germaine added.

  Mary raised her eyebrow at me, seemingly unsure what to make of all this, yet keeping her cool composure.

  “And what is that?”

  I explained the details of why we needed the Jewels of Blood. Mary listened quietly. Lotte still clung to my side while the others gathered close to listen to the story again. Smithy smiled along with the details as if I was telling a bedtime story.

  “We just need to figure out how to find them,” I finished. “Germaine knows where The Furies live.”

  “Actually, I’m not sure that information is still current,” Germaine said, looking sheepish.

  “I know.” Clytemnestra stepped forward. The look of worry in her face had fallen away and was now replaced with a fierce determination. “They live in the underground Necropolis. If it means we will destroy that liar Asmodeus, then I will face them again.”

  “Again?” Smithy and I asked at the same time.

  The others looked on, waiting for the response. Clytemnestra’s face dropped momentarily, but she regained her steely look and reached up to the tight bun of hair at the back of her head. In one swift movement, she pulled the dagger that held it together and slid it free. Black waves of shiny hair swished down around her neck and face. Through the curly mess she peered out and held the dagger forward, hilt first.

  “They are the reason I am in Hell. This is the weapon they gave me to murder my son.”

  FOURTEEN

  Lotte gasped next to me at Clytemnestra’s macabre pronouncement. She had murdered her own son? There was silence in the Chamber of Maps as the Earth revolved slowly next to us.

  “Don’t you all look at me with judgment in your eyes,” Clytemnestra said in her low growl. “You’re all in Hell for a reason. I am no worse than you.”

  “But your son?” I asked horrified. “How? Why?”

  Regret dimmed Clytemnestra’s glare, but she clenched her jaw.

  “I killed my husband as well.”

  This time I let out a gasp. This was someone in my council from whom I took advice. I had given her control of Hell. She must have seen scorn in my face, because she suddenly looked afraid.

  “My Lord, please. You of all people cannot condemn me. You’re the only man who has given me trust in all my days. Will you at least try to understand?”

  I thought for a moment, frozen. How could I justify a cri
me like that? There was only one way. I had to live her memories. No. If all of us were to trust her, then we must all see what she’d done. Only with perfect understanding could you look beyond good and evil and see acts without judgment.

  “Very well,” I said stepping forward. “Will you open up your mind to us? Will you let us know what you have known?”

  She looked tentative. The dagger hung loosely in her grasp. Staring down at it, her knuckles turned to white, she was holding it so hard. Drops of blood escaped from beneath her fingers. She looked me in the eyes and nodded.

  “Everyone,” I said, looking around, “stand back. We are about to enter Clytemnestra’s world.”

  As our companions stepped back to form a loose circle around me and Clytemnestra, I held the hilt of the dagger with one hand and put my other over her bleeding fist. Channeling the correct elements in a blast of light into us, I delved into her mind. Spinning downward, I was drawn into a lucid scene. It was as if I was an omniscient presence, seeing all as a third person, but knowing and feeling all of Clytemnestra’s senses. I projected the vision out of me, so it became real for everyone else to see too.

  With blood thumping in her ears, Clytemnestra lay in wait, hidden behind a marble column. She could barely hear the splashing water of the bathhouse, or the giggles of her husband’s whore as they echoed off the marble walls. Throbbing hatred pounded through her body.

  Inching around so she could see them, Clytemnestra pushed her black hair out of her eyes. The chamber was empty aside from the two lovers, who were careless in their lust. The sight of the pair almost made her lose control. They gasped in a writhing embrace, clutching at each other in the rose-petal water, their slick skin glistening in the candlelight. Both were smiling, while all Clytemnestra felt was pain. It wasn’t that they were naked together. Jealousy played no part in this. An older and deeper wound ached inside her. The need for revenge was hotter now than it had been, even ten years after it had happened. The sore had now festered to be an all-consuming fever.