Deicide (Hellbound Trilogy)

by Tim Hawken

  I could feel the swell of confidence return to the room. I wished Mary was there to share it, but she still had not arrived.

  “Now,” I said to the closest of The Pure Seven. “You know better than me what happened out there. Those angels: who were they and how did Asmodeus get them into Hell?”

  “We do not know how they were allowed in this place. They are our divine balance,” the seven replied in their eerie chorus.

  I took a seat again and waited for an explanation, but none was more forthcoming. Clytemnestra cleared her throat.

  “I think I know who they are,” she said in her low growl.

  We waited for her to continue. She looked intently at The Pure Seven, before pressing on.

  “What our sinful friends here are trying to say, is that they were the seven Archangels of Heaven: God’s private guard. They are Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Remiel, Mikail and Saragael.”

  “It is from the book of Enoch,” a groan came from the corner.

  I looked over to see that Germaine had awoken. Marlowe looked down at him, but did not help him up. He watched as the alchemist stumbled to his feet alone and took a seat at the table. He settled himself with deliberate patience. He was groggy, but I could see the clarity in his eyes had returned. He was with us again.

  “I have heard everything you have all just said,” he croaked with a dry throat.

  Smithy brought over a steaming cup of tea for him, pressing it into his hands with a strong nod.

  “Clytemnestra is perfectly right,” Germaine continued, after sipping the reviving liquid. “They are the seven Archangels of God. It is all written down in an ancient religious canon called The Book of Enoch.”

  I turned back to her for more information.

  “That is almost all I can tell you,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “They are the first of the angels. Powerful. Other than that, not much is known in Hell about them.”

  “There is more,” Germaine said. “If I may?”

  “Please,” I said, indicating that he had the floor.

  “If you behold our seven sinful friends here, you will see the exact opposite of the seven Archangels.” He stood, tapping each of them on the wingtip as he walked past them. At his touch, he said their names. “Lust, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Their reflections in Heaven are named after the seven heavenly virtues: Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience, Kindness and Humility.”

  As Germaine voiced each of the virtues, the dark angels hissed in anger.

  “They will always oppose each other. Absolutely,” Germaine went on. “The battle was too fast to notice, but I’m sure they would have been drawn together to fight the one they hate the most.”

  “They live nothing but lies,” The Pure Seven spat venom. Their colored wings snapped tight at their backs. “Those angels reject their true nature of desire, while we are truthful and succumb absolutely to the craving that is built into us.”

  “You are right,” Germaine said to them. “If you have too much charity you neglect your own needs. Too much kindness and people take advantage. Too much temperance and you do not fully experience life’s pleasures. But some might say that neither of you are completely truthful either,” he continued carefully. “Too much lust and, just as with chastity, you cut off the option of a full love. Purity is a strange thing. An abundance of one thing is not necessarily healthy either way. A balance should be struck.”

  “Purity is truth,” they hissed back, “if you let your soul be tainted by one side, you cannot hope to be honest with yourself.”

  “As Michael said before, most of us are not so black and white, or blue, or green, or red, in your case,” Germaine smiled, resting his hand on Wrath’s shoulder. She turned and looked at his hand as though it was unclean. “No matter what you think, it’s certain that you are destined to oppose these angels. You will have your chance again.”

  “We will be more prepared next time,” they chorused.

  “We all will.” I said. “Now, does anyone know how Asmodeus brought them here?”

  No one responded.

  “Perhaps Mary is working on the problem,” I offered, but the thought sounded weak in my ears.

  My gaze was drawn to the earthy bodies, in front of us on the table. In particular, the beautiful corpse with flaming red hair held my attention. I felt warm inside, taking in the perfect structure of her face. We couldn’t sit and wait for another attack on Hell. We had to meet Asmodeus head on. Our defence was a fast response. If we could reach Heaven and bring down the walls, then our armies down here could be prepared. I had promised them three days of celebration, but in the meantime we could pave the way to war. I had made my decision.

  “Marax and The Pure Seven,” I said, rising to my feet. The eight generals of Hell all snapped to attention at my movement. “Start to make your plans for training your legions. You have full powers to nominate other leaders within your group. I’m placing full control in your hands.”

  They each nodded their acceptance with set faces. I knew from their calm reaction that I’d made the right decision in making them leaders of conflict. I turned to the others, who all appeared stunned at my sudden call to action.

  “Germaine, Clytemnestra, Smithy, Charlotte and Marlowe,” I said to them, “prepare to be reborn. I’ll be back in a few hours. We leave for the surface on my return. It’s time to go to Earth.”

  FOUR

  CHARLOTTE HADN’T EVEN QUESTIONED WHERE I WAS GOING as I kissed her goodbye. She knew. I had to see Mary alone and make sure she understood my commitment to our cause. She had been the one who had helped me along this path. Mary and Zoroaster had coaxed me towards Truth. I needed her full support to continue. She was the only one of us who had been to Heaven before. She was our eyes in making sure we took the correct route. There was no replacement for her. There couldn’t be. I didn’t doubt her unshakeable support for what we were doing. My worry was that I would fail her when it mattered most.

  It only took minutes for me to jet down over Smoking Gun and come to rest on the street at the front of Magdalene’s Mansion. The footpaths were jammed full of people – intoxicated, celebrating the impending war. They were lost in their revelry, drunk on hope and possibility. Music was beating from every shop front and casino on the strip. Traffic had stopped. People and demons alike were dancing on the roofs of their cars, passing drinks between each other. It was the first time I had been here in this suburb and not seen overt hostility and violence. Everyone seemed happy. The effect of turning the focus on an outside enemy was incredible. Within, there was only support. Bickering and internal prejudice had fallen away, but only in favor of a stronger hate for someone else outside. Perhaps one day humanity could find a better way to get along indefinitely. Perhaps. I had to believe that was true or we were fighting for nothing.

  I deflected any attention away from me with a shroud of elements. I didn’t want to be delayed. Pushing the front doors of Magdalene’s Mansion open, I swept inside. The foyer was also full of revelers. The lusty Oba was at the front desk, frantically taking orders, checking customers in and giving directions to rooms upstairs. Other demons were helping her as well. They were all run off their feet with requests. Impending war proved to be a powerful aphrodisiac. There were as many women in line as men. It looked like some people weren’t waiting until they got upstairs for the party to begin either. Couples, trios and foursomes were sprawled on couches and even the plush carpet, taking their pleasure on the floor. The ground was a mat of heaving, sweating skin. Hands groped upward for any willing body they could find. This house of lust looked every inch its name. Without pausing, I picked my way past the elevators and towards a long, red corridor. I knew where I was going and it wasn’t up. There was only one place Mary would be: The Crypt.

  Winding down the polished stairs, I readied myself to enter Mary’s underground shrine for Judas. This was the first time I had visited here since we had exorcised the souls of The Pure
Seven from Mary’s body, releasing the keys to the gates of Heaven. Those keys were now lost to Asmodeus. In our search for the keys to Purgatory, Judas had stumbled upon an ancient trap set to guard them. He had been flooded by a liquid, which caused anyone who came within its touch to fall into a coma. His sleep would last a thousand years and there was nothing I, or anyone else, had been able to do to lift it. The fact had been a source of Mary’s sorrow since then. Her focus on our mission and subsequent love for me had helped her get past some of that pain, but that had been shaken as well. She would always return here when the outlook seemed impossible, perhaps to remind herself that there was more to what she was fighting for: there was family.

  The interior of The Crypt remained mostly unchanged. Seven empty coffins lay in a formation around a crucifix-shaped altar. At the head of the altar, an eighth coffin sat. Mary was kneeling over it. Above, a suspended sculpture of a dove emerging from a sunburst shone a white light onto them. I cleared my throat, but Mary didn’t look back. She stayed intent on her brother, who lay still in the coffin, breathing almost imperceptibly. I walked to her side, looking down as well. Judas’ face was so serene. There was some consolation in the fact that in his state there was no suffering. He was removed from the world and all its pains.

  I stood together with them for a moment, reflecting on how far we had come. My initial mission had indeed been selfish: to save my love. But then I had met Judas and Mary. After hearing their story I realized there was much more to be done: there was greater meaning than my own desires and needs. No matter how pure my own battles seemed to me, they were still small compared with everyone else’s collective struggle. I became lost in my thoughts, trying to think how I could end all this. How could I defeat the undefeatable? Mary’s voice brought me back.

  “Judas would tell me that I am being silly,” she said, looking at me with a sad smile on her face. “He would say that personal feelings are nothing compared with the greater good.”

  It seemed uncanny that Mary had just echoed my own interior thoughts. It made me pause, wondering if there was more to her than I knew, but I pushed that aside for the moment.

  “He’s the perfect example of someone who sacrificed everything they had for what they thought was right,” I said, coming to Mary’s side.

  Judas had betrayed his best friend, Jesus. But it was Jesus who had asked Judas to give him up to the Romans. He had only done as God had wanted.

  “And look what he got for it,” Mary said. “He’s the most despised figure in history. In the end it was God who betrayed him, leaving him trapped in Hell. I wish there was a way to end all this suffering.”

  I reached down and touched Judas’ chest.

  “You know there’s a way,” I said. “It’s the path we’re on already. By the time Judas wakes from his slumber it will be the dawn of a new age.”

  “Or will he awake to greater darkness?” she said, turning to me for the first time. “Is this really a fight you think you can win, Michael? Are you willing to turn your back on everything you love?”

  I took my hand away from Judas, staring at Mary. I’d already proven I could make hard decisions. I had torn down the walls of Purgatory and Heaven, thinking I was leaving Charlotte behind. What more did she want? I took a deep breath.

  “I would give anything to bring Asmodeus down. You know that. Don’t let his words get in your head. Having us doubt each other is exactly what he wants.”

  Her eyes turned hard.

  “Perhaps I’m just being realistic,” she said. “I think about what I could lose in this as well. Look at what I’ve already lost and it all might be for nothing. What if we don’t win?”

  I looked around at the shadowy corners of the room. The black shade crept like smoke towards the bright centre of the room. Everywhere there was light, darkness would try to consume it. Or was it the light trying to consume the dark? Perhaps neither could exist without the other and it was a battle that would never ultimately be won. The best we could hope for was balance. I took each of Mary’s arms in my hands.

  “Mary. What would Judas say now? Would he say we should give up?”

  It was the best argument I could give. She looked down again at her brother and I saw her jaw set in determination.

  “I can’t promise you happiness,” I said. “But I can promise that when the time comes, I will sacrifice all I have for this. Are you willing to do the same? I need you.”

  Mary tore her gaze away from Judas and stared back at me with tears fluttering in her eyes. The glassiness made her dazzling green irises even more luminescent. She swept towards me and clung to me in a fierce embrace. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. After a few moments, she went to move back, but I held firm again, squeezing her body into mine. She relaxed into me, clinging to me again with passion. There was nothing more physical than a strong hug, but the emotion arcing between us could have torn down worlds. I held her and it felt as though time slowed. Her scent, the warmth of her body; they all blended into a serene calm. She was with me again. Finally, I let her go. She looked at me sadly, as if she knew that was the last time we would ever hold each other in such a way.

  “We have another problem,” I said, breaking the spell of the moment. “I’m not sure our bodies can contain the power of the Jewels of Blood.”

  Mary nodded; she had already known what I was going to say.

  “I saw Germaine, too,” she confirmed. “He was close to madness after facing Asmodeus.”

  “I don’t understand it,” I said. “We thought the blood was safe. Maybe it’s because his mind has been weakened too much from before.”

  “Will he be affected the same way in a body of flesh?” Mary asked.

  I paused thoughtfully. “I’m not totally sure,” I said slowly. “Body and mind are always intertwined. Our ethereal bodies here are stronger, but they are also more malleable.”

  She looked at me quizzically, so I continued.

  “Think of our forms here like rubber, where those of Earth are more like wood. In Hell, we bend more easily to pressure, but can resist more force. Real flesh is more solid, but can splinter apart under too much strain. I think maybe his body here is too susceptible to the influence of power. It’s giving way too easily, because it’s been loosened. Perhaps a more rigid body would help.”

  “Perhaps, but not definitely,” she countered.

  “It’s a gamble,” I said, turning the idea over in my brain. “I believe it would at least take longer for his earthly body to succumb. However, it might snap eventually. Perhaps all of ours would.”

  I stopped and thought more on the consequence of that happening.

  “If he loses his mind on Earth, it might not destroy his body completely either,” I admitted. “He could run riot there and kill innocent people. The destruction that an insane Elemental would reap on the physical world would be like nothing existence has seen before.”

  “But we need him,” Mary said. “You saw how much he rattled Asmodeus. He took on Moloch. We can’t give that advantage away lightly.”

  “I agree. That’s the problem. How do you use a weapon you might not be able to completely control?”

  I walked over to the altar, placing my hands on the cool stone. I wanted to wholeheartedly trust all of our allies, but there was too much unknown to be able to move forward with confidence. My friends could be our downfall if we weren’t careful. Each of the seven empty coffins in the room stared back at me blankly. They held no answers. I looked up to the room and saw the dove hovering. Its image made me angry. It was supposed to be the representation of the spirit of God. That Mary had put it here infuriated me. Everything I saw reminded me of Asmodeus. I had to close my eyes and forcefully calm myself again. As I composed myself, another thought came to me. I turned to Mary again.

  “Zoroaster can control the elements. How can he do it without the need for jewels or potions?”

  She came over to where I was standing and leaned on the altar, looking up
to the white figure of the dove in thought.

  “You forget he was a prophet of God during his life on Earth,” she said. “That comes with some gifts. It would have been the same when you faced Gideon. Asmodeus has given certain people talents. Zoroaster might not be anywhere near strong as you, but his thousands of years of experience have produced a wisdom and intelligence that give him perfect control over his abilities. You should understand more than anyone that knowledge equates to power.”

  Remembering Zoroaster made me wish we had him down here with us to ask for advice. But maybe he was more use where he was, carefully gathering some support for us there. Either way, it didn’t present a solution to our current problem. I slapped my palm on the altar in frustration.

  “What if,” Mary’s gentle voice sounded next to me, offsetting my anger, “we just delay introducing the jewels into our systems until we reach the gates of Heaven? At least that way we’re giving ourselves time to travel from the Hellmouth to Jacob’s Ladder.”

  “But we’ll be helpless,” I said.

  “Hardly,” she scoffed. “You still have the power to wield the elements. That will make our journey a lot easier. And we are all capable adults. You keep the Jewels of Blood safe and we will fuse them with our bodies just before we need them most: at the gates of Heaven.”

  I let the idea settle in my brain. It sounded reasonable. I would have to be on extra watch to make sure no harm came to our fleshy shells while on Earth, but I would not let my guard down anyway. It would be more a matter of convincing Germaine not to want the powerful blood sooner. I could feel he craved it like a drug. However, this seemed the soundest course of action. If we met resistance along the way, the jewels would still be there to draw on quickly.