by Tim Hawken
“No!” came the firm response of feminine voices.
“This woman used to be one of us, but her rash emotion, which has always been her weakness, has shown their true intent. Should she be punished?”
“Yes!” an even more urgent call chorused from all sides.
“Yes,” The Furies hissed as one.
I tensed, as the same Fury who had thrown the dagger to the ground came forward and plucked it from Clytemnestra’s fingers. I held my friend’s arm, so she would not lash out again. Red, lifeless eyes stared into mine as the Fury held up the dagger. A black light of hate became infused inside it, creeping out of this demon’s skin and into the blade. She spoke, in an ugly rasp, pressing the hilt into my hands.
“Take this dagger, Michael. Use it to cut off the life chord of your servant’s soul. If you kill her, we will weep for her. You can take the tears and use them how you wish.”
The whole crowd fell dead silent at the pronouncement. I blinked as Clytemnestra turned to me. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but they were the saltwater tears of humanity. She fell to her knees and started to unbutton her shirt, exposing her chest as she had exposed it to her son during her final moments on Earth. This time it was done with serenity.
“Do it, Michael,” she said. “If it means you will be able to meet Asmodeus on our terms, then I will welcome nothingness.”
I felt both Charlotte and Mary come to my shoulder. My wife’s fingers clutched at my elbow, but I didn’t need her action to spur me on. Holding the dagger, high so all could see, I took my own emotion and pushed it into the steel. The pink of love cancelled out the hate, until it was just a metal instrument in my palm. I then let it crumble into dust. Looking down to Clytemnestra, who still knelt, I took her hands.
“The only thing that dies today is this cycle of revenge within our own fold.”
Raising my head, I spoke to The Furies as I helped my friend rise.
“You know who the real enemy is and it is not Clytemnestra, nor is it anyone who lives in this realm. It is Him. The first He who would subject you to his masculine reign: Asmodeus. Until you can see that, we will all be slaves. Now, let us go in peace and I will promise that if I can find a way to defeat him, I will do everything in my power to preserve all you have built here.”
The blood that usually clouded The Furies’ eyes cleared for a moment. The red pushed away from the middle to reveal the crystal blue of human-looking irises. They stepped forward as one, cupping their hands beneath their chins. Rare smiles touched the three avenging angels’ lips and tears of crimson trailed down their cheeks, turning to jewels as they fell into their open palms.
“Now you have our trust,” they whispered as one.
TWENTY
I TAPPED THE POUCH, which was held securely in my pocket in a shroud of elements. The Jewels of Blood jingled inside. Hope swelled in my chest, not just because we had a key piece of what we needed, but because of the departure the women of the Necropolis had given us. An honor guard of over four hundred thousand people had lined the alleys and rooftops of their slum, as The Furies walked us to the mouth of the tunnel that led to the surface. No one cheered; they just held their hands in a prayer position on their chests – a spiritual salute of solidarity to our cause. As our party left, we each turned and mirrored the salute. Where there had been trepidation and fear on our entry, there was hope and confidence in our departure.
Now I stood on the balcony overlooking The Great Lawn. Clytemnestra walked the grounds below with the lightness of someone who had just been freed of a lifetime of guilt. She was preparing with the keeper of the house, Azazel. The stream of pilgrims had already started the long trek up the mountainside. The first of them would be here in a matter of hours. I watched as the tide of souls rose up slowly from the city. I needed to make final preparations myself.
Back inside the war rooms, Marlowe watched closely over Germaine, who wove elements together to create our bodies. Smithy sat in the far corner, also watching. Rainbow lights spun into flesh. Bones gathered, tendons formed, skin peeled over the muscles of the frame. These were earthly bodies: ones that didn’t belong in Hell. They were for Earth. I could see by their makeup that, if they were left too long down here, they would burn and putrefy in the heat.
Germaine had woven a bed of cool air to encase them. There were six in total; the same amount of jewels The Furies had gifted us. Each body was in the likeness of those who would ascend on our mission: Smithy, Charlotte, Clytemnestra, Germaine, Mary and Marlowe. There would to be a body for me too soon enough, but I didn’t need a jewel to have the power to bond with it. That power was innate within my soul. Germaine would teach me how to fuse the power with flesh and I would build my own human shell. Marax and The Pure Seven would stay behind; they were to help carry out the plan I would announce in my latest sermon. I was ready to hand the souls of Hell the purpose they so badly needed.
Germaine looked up from his work and the lights faltered. He sealed off the cool air around them.
“Hello, Lord Michael,” he greeted me. “I hope you like my work. I have come as far as I can without the jewels. Do you have them?”
“Yes, we were successful,” I nodded.
Marlowe’s white grin split his dark features. It was eerie to see him animated in his ethereal form and have another lifeless corpse almost identical on the table next to him. I noticed with some amusement that Germaine’s body was more youthful and handsome than his emaciated spirit that stood before me. I wondered why he hadn’t healed automatically back to his normal state, now that he’d come back to consciousness. Perhaps the body was a reflection of the chaos that he struggled to contain inside him. Smithy nodded wisely at me from across the room, as if he already expected we would have no problem in our task. He may well have heard the tale of our journey already. We had been back for barely a day and word seemed to spread like wildfire within our camp. It was both a blessing that I didn’t have to recount the story to everyone first hand, and a curse that rumors were quickly embellished to become beyond fanciful. Marax had asked me earlier if it was true that I had flattened the entire Necropolis before rebuilding it again. When I said I had not, he thought I was simply being modest.
“Can I have them?” Germaine asked, stepping forward. “I’d like to start adding some preliminary emotion and spirit to prepare these shells for rebirth.”
The wary look on Marlowe’s face made me pause. Smithy shifted in his chair, but remained silent.
“Why can’t you add a small amount of emotion without the jewels?” I queried. “I thought these jewels were to be added right at the final moment, to give the bodies more godly power, not human emotion.”
Germaine nodded eagerly, licking his lips as if he’d anticipated my concern.
“Yes, but I need to use the jewels to have the personal power to do it. In my current state I can only manipulate the base elements. I dare not take any potions to expand my ability. We know how that may end.” He let the pause after his sentence complete the explanation.
I looked to Marlowe to get his thoughts and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. I thought on the dilemma. I would have to give the jewels over to Germaine eventually, if we wanted our souls fused with these bodies with power, but I wanted to hold off longer. I put my hand into my pocket and let my fingers rub over the precious blood crystals.
“You can have one for now,” I said finally. “This one is your jewel. When it’s time for the resurrection, you and I will complete the fusion together with your lead. I’m trusting you with this.”
Plucking one of the tear-shaped jewels from my pocket I held it up. It sparkled, not from the light in the room, but from the power within. Germaine’s eyes widened in anticipation and he once again licked his lips in what seemed to be an almost automatic nervous habit.
“Keep it safe. We don’t need to start the next step until after the sermon. I want you, Marlowe and Smithy to take these bodies and have them on display on the large balcony a
bove the lawn. Make sure they look powerful and prestigious. I want them to be a symbol of our achievement. Stay up there and wait. All our high council must stand behind me while I address the crowd. I’ll go up and get Charlotte.”
Smithy snapped off a rigid salute, worthy of an old soldier. The seriousness of the action was offset by his constant grin.
“I’ll see you on the balcony,” I said, glad that he was on our side.
Walking through the maze of corridors in the mansion, my nerves started to flutter again. In little under an hour I would be standing before millions of souls. I felt as out of place addressing them as their leader as I did in these luxurious surroundings. I was a street kid and a fighter, not a general; certainly not a lord. Charlotte was insistent that we take the largest room in the palace as our bedroom. She said it was to present an image of power, more than to be comfortable. I was learning from her that occasionally outward appearances could be just as important as inward confidence when it came to leadership. Sometimes one bolstered the other. Charlotte surprised even me with her insight. I thought I had known every side of her and yet an assured confidence in how to lead had sprung from somewhere I didn’t know existed inside her.
I stepped past a marble bust of the artist William Blake and rounded the corner to our door. Opening it inward, I almost fell backward at the vision that greeted me. Charlotte was just zipping up a black dress, which clung tightly to her elegant figure. The length of its silken folds reached down to her ankles, but splits up each side revealed her legs to the upper thigh. Red roses were embroidered in fine detail along the neckline, which swept dramatically down in a deep vee to the base of her sternum. The fabric covered each of her breasts just enough to avoid exposing too much, but the effect was scandalous to me. My innocent Lotte looked anything but. She looked like a sophisticated queen of desire, comfortable in her own skin; she looked utterly captivating. My eyes must have been bugging out of my head, because she gave me a demure smile and spun around in her red high heels.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” she purred. “Clytemnestra had it made for me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat wouldn’t produce any words. I just stood there, staring. Eventually, I worked up enough saliva to gulp.
“Good,” she laughed. “Speechless is exactly what I was going for. It’s important to get that out of the way now, before you have to address the entire population of this world.”
She stepped to the side to indicate a suit lying on the bed.
“I had Azazel tailor this to your size. It’s something fitting for one who needs to present the ability to control the universe.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but my eyes went wider still. There was no way I could wear something like that. It was a black, military dress suit. Silver trim lined the collar. Down the centre length of each sleeve, a long row of colorful eyes were sewn into the fabric, right down to the cuff. They looked utterly lifelike, but were only two dimensional, as flat and thin as the cloth they were a part of. On the breast was pinned a row of circular medals, also each an eye. Four of them were held by ribbons, each a color of the base elements: Fire, Earth, Water, Air. On the other breast was a single badge: The Universal Eye. It was the same symbol as above the door of Mary’s Chamber of Maps, the iris of the Earth framed above by Heaven and below by Hell. There were two perfect circles around it: one white, one black, touching without a gap between. I understood the meaning: a united existence, for every shade of soul. On the lapels were set two silver pins: The silver sickle of death on the left; the tree of life on the right.
I walked over and placed my hand on it. At my touch, the eyes on the sleeves blinked and roamed around the room, as if searching for hidden enemies. The effect was disturbing.
“I…” I began.
“You’ll look every bit the Lord of Hell in it. I know it’s not your normal style, but you being comfortable is much less important right now than you looking strong. Everyone will understand the elemental symbolism of this. They know the source of your power and what you hold control over.”
“Is it really necessary?” I said, knowing inside that I wasn’t going to win this argument.
“Do you think kings and generals enjoyed wearing what they did?” Charlotte said, putting her hands on her hips.
Her fingers were touching the skin at the top of the fabric slits on her thighs. Her appearance, and the effect it had on me, was more than enough of a message to realize aesthetics were incredibly potent.
“Napoleon understood the need for pomp and he was one of the greatest military leaders in history,” Charlotte continued. “Hitler built a whole movement behind a manufactured image of might. Despite his message of hate, he was able to enthrall the masses through grouping around art and symbolism. Think how much of an impact this could have when the message is good and just.”
I sighed. Hitler. Napoleon. They would probably be out in the crowd somewhere today. Those men who did evil things would not have entered Heaven easily. Every other warmonger, tribal chief, soldier and bloodthirsty warrior in history, famous or not, were likely out there as well. I had to get them behind me. Despite their past, we had to move to the future together. There was no other way. I had the tired and the poor, but I also had the evil and strong; the tempest-tossed, huddled masses ready to rise up and be free. I couldn’t pretend everyone on our side had perfect intentions. Our goal was salvation, though, and I would do everything in my power to ensure it was achieved the right way.
Picking up the jacket, I swung it over my shoulders.
“Help me button it up, would you, darling?” I smirked.
She grinned in triumph and stepped toward me. Her heels were high enough that we stood eye to eye. She grabbed the lapels of my new coat and pulled me into her lips. I let myself succumb to their soft love. I felt a passionate heat for Lotte that had impossibly grown stronger. She pulled back and smiled. Her eyes lit up with the genuine nature that I knew her for. She was still the girl I had met what felt like ten lifetimes ago: that girl and more. Lotte snapped together the jacket up to its collar with deft fingers, then sealed the top with another kiss.
“If you’re lucky I might unbutton it later as well,” she said cheekily.
I looked her up and down and made a show of exhaling, fanning my face.
“You’re lucky I’m letting you out, dressed like that.”
“Like you have a choice in the matter.”
“We all have a choice,” I said in mock seriousness, “that’s what we’re fighting for.”
She slapped my chest playfully.
“Come on, Lord Michael. It’s show time.”
TWENTY-ONE
I STEPPED OUT ONTO THE BALCONY to a deafening roar. The teeming crowd of demons and people below boiled with energy at the sight of me walking into view. At my side, Charlotte stood, waving regally to all, showing that the stories were true: she had been rescued from Purgatory and was now with her love again.
To my left were Clytemnestra, Marax, Smithy, Germaine, Mary and Marlowe: my trusted guard. On the right, the bodies Germaine had created were suspended upright, like impossible mannequins ready to be spurred into action. There was a glowing light around them. I saw Germaine had added the dazzling elements for extra effect. On the roof behind us, The Pure Seven sat: a septet of colorful gargoyles, watching as sentinels over the proceedings. As one, they fanned out their angelic wings and the crowd erupted again. Waves upon waves of people were spread out upon the lawn, flowing down the mountainside. Not a scrap of ground could be seen. The crush of souls all looked up, trying to get a glimpse of their leader. I wondered if there could possibly be more than a handful of people left in the city below: probably not.
I glanced at my watch, making note of the time. There wasn’t long before The Guilt would wash over the gathering, but I had enough time to make my main pronouncement. I held up my hands for silence and the masses obeyed. Their instant response gave me an extra surge of confidence. Amplifying m
y voice with the elements, I spoke to my people.
“Friends, I thank you for making the choice to come here today. It is a show of your collective freewill that cannot be underestimated.”
The crowd yelled their gratitude back up to me and I pressed on.
“We have a journey to take together. No doubt, you have heard that we succeeded in destroying the wall between Purgatory and Heaven. We made a tough decision and freed other struggling souls into the eternity of a bountiful paradise.”
Below, the noise erupted again, but not all of it was encouraging. I could see frustration on some of the faces.
“I know some of you think that we should have brought Purgatory here. That we should have swelled our strength in Hell for the war we know is coming. But ask yourselves, is it justice that those people be forced to live in this Hell? This heat? This guilt? To live in this small space that struggles to contain our numbers now? No!” I answered for them. “We now have allies on the other side. They know what we have done for them and they know what is coming next: salvation for all! When the final walls fall, they will fight with us!”
The din that met my passionate announcement was overwhelming. The feeling of hope coming from those who had known none for so long sunk through my skin. I could feel their expectation growing. The mess of bodies all squirmed and writhed, raising their arms to me in supplication. My stomach churned with disquiet. I did not want to be adored. I wanted them to make hard choices for the betterment of themselves.
“That salvation is closer than you think. You can see my advisors at my side. This is my council of truth.”
I swept my hand across to my left and let a trickle of the elements escape my fingers. The weave spread across my friends and formed new clothing on each of them: uniforms of white to mirror my black shimmered over their bodies like an illusion, before turning solid. Instead of the four medals of the elements I had on own my chest, the Universal Eye was emblazoned on both sides of theirs. I then motioned up to the Pure Seven, turning their hair white, but leaving their bodies the color of their chosen sin.