by Tim Hawken
I clung desperately to Marlowe and Charlotte as we succumbed to the tumult of elements thrusting us down. We span away, back towards Hell. Underneath us I saw the tents of Zoroaster’s followers ripping in the blast, peeling away or being flattened completely. I tried to control our fall, but with the pull of the filter adding to the flight it was all I could do to keep us bundled as one. The forest of palms flashed below us in a sea of green; the lawn with the statues of sapphire; down through the chasm of Purgatory. Like a barrel being flung over Niagara Falls, we hurtled through into a land of grey: spinning, helpless. I could hear Charlotte yelling in fright. I could feel her body next to mine, but couldn’t see properly in the blur. Marlowe pressed on my other side. I tried again to concentrate on steadying us enough to ride the storm with some semblance of control. Slowing our spiraling movement, I managed to stop our tumble so I could see again. Beneath us, the cloud-like rocks I knew Germaine would need to get back to, whipped by. The boulder-strewn meadow we had marched through streaked away. I turned toward the direction we were headed in and watched as the end of Purgatory appeared up ahead. Our impetus was too great; the filter was pulling us in and there was nothing I could do. I whirled my body back again to watch for another sign of movement.
Had Germaine gotten away from Asmodeus? Did he have the power to resist this pull long enough to break through the cloud rocks and plunge the keys into the filter? Could he carry out his plan to create a void? I cursed myself for my blind trust. I should have kept more control. I should never have left something this important in the hands of someone else, no matter how powerful.
The thought was cut off as my mind started to fade. We must have been reentering Hell. Every other time I had been sucked between worlds against my will, I had lost consciousness. This time I fought it. I clenched my teeth and used my resolve to keep my brain alert. A flash of black clouded my eyes, but I blinked to keep them open.
The world fell silent. My touch numbed. Any idea of smell left my body. The only sense I had left was sight. My eyes beheld the elements all over, coming together in regret and guilt. Memories of goodness spun by, only to be lost amongst greed and envy. I somehow registered that I was inside the guilt storm of Hell. It was cutting through my body, making me one with the tempest. In an odd calm I looked for Marlowe and Charlotte, but they weren’t there – at least not in a form I could see. The chaos had meaning to me now. There was method in this madness. It was the construction of a brilliant mind; brilliant, yet evil. Colors of red oceans shimmered below. We were moving; tearing towards a destination we had been to many times. Black desert appeared. The storm swirled and spat its bile into all it touched. Then it faltered. A wheel in the perfect machine slipped. The cogs started to unravel. A howl of wind began in a whisper then the volume turned to full, mid-gasp. It screamed suffering in my ears. As the storm started to fall apart, my body pulled back together. Blonde hair began to flutter next to mine. An African man with white teeth and a beard, burst into life right before my eyes. In a visceral wrenching of sensation, the vivid nightmare of reality came back to life. Before I knew what was truly happening, my body crashed down, striking the hot sand. The consciousness I had clung to so hard wavered again for just a moment, before a glorious noise pierced my ears. It made me look up. The groaning sounds of twisting metal met the cracking of thick ice. I had heard it once before, when Zoroaster and I had blocked the filter of Purgatory. I let out a cry of elation, hoping beyond hope that a cataclysm had started that couldn’t be stopped. I searched around to share my happiness and saw the body of Charlotte face down in the sand twenty feet away. The guilt storm must have released us as it gave way over the desert. The jam in the filter had caused the tempest to die before it could reach the city. Normally it would have flung us back to our allotted destination of rest, but we had been let go as it dispersed prematurely. I rushed to Lotte’s side and rolled her onto her back. She sucked in the scorching air of Hell and her eyes opened wide. Bending down, I smiled at her.
“Look up,” I said to her in excitement. “It’s starting to happen.”
While my love gained her bearings, I scanned around us for Marlowe. The African was already on his feet, his eyes glued to the clouds above. I stared up again and knew why he could not look away. The lightning that normally forked obstinately above had stopped. I braced myself in case pieces of the filter began to fall as they had in Purgatory. For a long moment nothing happened. Then a breeze began to flutter. The clouds above started to shift. From the horizon inward, they started to pull up, as if an invisible hand had grabbed the middle of a sheet and was lifting it to reveal us beneath. The folds of black mist crinkled together and zapped through into a throbbing circle of purple energy. Fine veins of the same color spread out to cover the pure blackness that had replaced the clouds. All the way to the edges of sight, a color like that of Germaine’s eyes engulfed that static filter of Hell. I was frozen in awe, seeing a cosmic event start to unfold. The sky itself began to twist and spin. It went from purple, to red, to yellow, to green, to blue and then finally to white. Fine stars of black appeared, twinkling oblivion on a blanket of life. I felt the whole realm of Hell hold its breath. This was the Armageddon we had all wished for. Meteors answered our prayers. The white started to bleed down in a rain of rubble and light. A chunk of the debris slammed down over the dune from where we stood, sending a ripple of black sand our way. I pushed a shield of thick air around Charlotte and me, enveloping Marlowe as well. Safe in our bubble, we watched. I hugged Charlotte, happy in the destruction. Drumming a beat of hail, the meteors dropped. Their trail of descent started to pull inward, focusing on one spot, as a black hole formed in the sky. A vortex of nothingness had opened up on Hell. Purgatory was spewing outward. With one last blast, a new atmosphere cracked into life. The impact sent us sprawling back onto the ground, despite the shield I had built.
I rolled to my feet, leaning back down to pull Charlotte up with me. Any pain that I should have felt was lost in gratitude. The faith I had put in a now vanished friend had paid off, despite my trepidation. The iridescent purple I had come to associate with a beggar alchemist filled the sky. Germaine had done it. He had sacrificed himself for us. It was a bittersweet victory. The world had lost an incomparable mind, but in return it had gained freedom. I hugged Charlotte close to me and wept. The barrier between Heaven and Hell was no more.
THIRTEEN
MARLOWE INTERRUPTED MY EMBRACE WITH CHARLOTTE with a light tap on the shoulder. I looked to him with glassy eyes. A wide smile hung on his face for a moment, acknowledging our victory, but it soon pursed into a serious look.
“We have not finished,” my African friend said in a gruff voice. “You do know that.”
Charlotte caught my eye and nodded as well. She stepped back, out of my arms, but kept her hand on my chest.
“Now that the barrier has fallen, the souls of Hell will be restless to invade,” she said. “We should get back to the city to make sure they don’t do anything too hasty.”
The mention of the armies made me stare back towards the city. From out here in the desert it was nothing but a glow in the distance. My friends were right. Smithy and Marax could only hold the demons’ eagerness for so long. At the same time, we should make the most of the confusion we had caused up in Heaven. There was no better time to strike than now. However, I needed to regroup in my own mind. So much had just happened. The deception I had unknowingly planned with Mary; Germaine’s selfless act of creating a new void; him showing me that to destroy Asmodeus I would have to dismantle his body first. I had felt the strength of his vessel firsthand up there. Any other being would have crumbled into dust at my attacks, yet he had withstood and come back quickly. I feared now that even Zoroaster’s potion of sleep wouldn’t be enough to subdue him in his present form. We had had surprise on our side last time. Asmodeus had been rattled, his focus torn. I doubted he would make the same mistake again. Nor would we be able to manufacture such a perfect series of events to fal
l our way. Without the Trojan deception of Mary and powers of Germaine, I struggled to think how I could defeat Asmodeus in hand-to-hand combat, should he be ready for it. There would be a way. There must be. We had overcome so much already.
“Michael,” Charlotte said, bringing my attention back to the present world. “We should go back. We can debrief with everyone once we return to the city.”
She knew me so well. Lotte only needed to look at me to know what was ticking behind my eyes.
“If everyone is there,” Marlowe said. “Phineus, Mary and Clytemnestra were all ripped away in the storm before us. They could be anywhere out here.”
“And The Pure Seven,” I reminded him. “Mary wasn’t the traitor we thought she was. She saved us.”
I looked at Charlotte as I said it, but she turned her head away. Some things weren’t accepted so readily. So much had happened. It would be better to let explanations wait until we had been able to reunite with the rest of our companions, if they had made it back safely. I peered into the sky again, seeing the stunning new vista above. A fine atmosphere of Germaine’s doing was all that separated his void and us. Above that, Heaven was waiting for the taking. We had to get moving.
I started to summon elements of air around us, when Charlotte touched me lightly again.
“May I try?” she said softly, coming back to my side. She had a strong look of certainty on her face, as though she could do anything if she put her mind to it.
This was yet another surprise I had almost let slip from my mind in the tumult of ideas and events that were spinning through it: Charlotte had used the elements to destroy Moloch.
“How…?” I began to ask.
“I know what you know, remember?” she smiled, tapping my temple with her finger. “I have been trained by The Perceptionist just like you have. I have your knowledge inside me. I simply never had the power to use that knowledge before.”
I looked at her eyes closely again and saw behind them the strength of the Jewels of Blood infused with her spirit. She was indeed now a force to be reckoned with: perhaps still not as physically strong as I but certainly smarter. She had my knowledge and hers combined. Even without my memories, she had always been more intelligent than me. In many ways Lotte was now far superior to most beings in the universe. The realization made me want to kiss and hug her tight. I stood back, inviting her with a sweep of my arm to weave her newfound magic.
With a wriggle of each of her fingers, elements sparked around Lotte. They came together to form thicker and thicker strands of air. Marlowe came close to us, ensuring it would be easier to hold us in a tight formation. Blue and greens shimmered at our feet and we began to take off. It was slow at first, but as Charlotte gained confidence our speed increased. I thought I would have to give her some extra pointers, but I didn’t. Lotte simply needed to become used to doing physically what she already knew how to execute mentally. She took us high up so we overlooked the rolling sands of the desert. I was able to make out Mount Belial in the far distance, which marked the beginning of the city from this approach. Over to the left the Chinvar Bridge arched with its intense light into the sky, still holding its integrity to meet the void. Not far across from the bridge, the mouth of the black hole Germaine had created continued to rain rocks and other material down into the desert below. Seeing a strange shape fall from the phenomenon I pointed over to it.
“Can you take us closer?” I asked Lotte.
In response she veered towards it, whipping further winds at our feet to accelerate. I peered up into the black hole and another of the shapes fell through. Then another. I couldn’t yet see exactly what they were, but the things were moving, not only down but also within themselves, as if they were wriggling. We finally came close enough to make out more detail and I realized with shock why the objects were acting that way: they were human bodies.
FOURTEEN
FEAR LEAPT INTO MY THROAT. This might already be an attack. I started to warn Charlotte but, emboldened by her newfound powers, she didn’t slow our approach. Instead she sped up, sweeping lower to the ground to see the carnage. A steady deluge of people poured into Hell, plummeting into the desert sand. Other debris came with them, including white and grey silk tents. There was no order to their descent; they were simply scattered and broken, flailing in the air. This was no attack. It was Zoroaster’s followers being cast down from Heaven. I gazed up, to see if I could make out anything behind the black hole, but there was nothing beyond the hundreds of bodies twisting downward in freefall.
Our feet rushed down onto the ground and the three of us kept going at a run. Up close, seeing the faces torn and bloody, it was clearly apparent they had been sent down with brutal force. Some of the people were still conscious. Their ethereal bodies were healing. Others were out cold. They were heaped in a pyramid, looking like a pile of living corpses from a warzone. Marlowe reached the base of the pile first, kneeling down next to a child. He picked up the little girl up in his arms and carried her backwards, away from the still falling wreckage from above. The single action made me understand we had to help restore some kind of order for these people as quickly as possible. As it was now, they were thrown together in a mash of confusion and agony.
“Charlotte,” I yelled to my wife, who was also dragging a young boy clear of the wreckage. “I’ll catch the ones still coming down. You pull everyone else away from each other gently. Use elements of air to separate and water to cool. They’ll be feeling the heat as much as any of their other wounds!”
She nodded her understanding, laying the boy back down. She kissed his forehead tenderly before standing again, focusing her talents forward. I left her to work, spreading a spirit blanket of my own upwards. Stretching it out wide, I created a net to break the fall of those continuing to come down. At first I kept the invisible weave flat, letting the bodies sink down softly. Then I had to create a slight dome to it, so the people would roll gently away from the centre, and slide to the ground clear of the others. Marlowe was busy also, running to those hurt worst, checking them and offering a kind word. No matter what he said it would be small consolation, but at least they knew they were in safe hands. Charlotte did her best to tease people away from the crush, giving them room to breathe. After taking some weight off the top, she then lifted the whole pile as one, spreading the people apart and lowering them down. I could see the effort was taxing for her, but that she didn’t need my assistance.
A flash of color made me turn my head to the right as seven flying objects caught my attention. Again I feared the worst, but very quickly realized they weren’t the Archangels I feared. It was The Pure Seven: they flew forward at high speed, coming to our aid. They must have been close by and seen the skies open up as we had. The red and blue angel-demons already had a person in each of their arms, but the others flew forward, catching the remainder of the morbid precipitation from the sky. We were now making progress. People lay moaning all about us, writhing in pain. As much as the noise sounded like suffering, it heartened me. They would live. The pain they felt now was temporary. I held the net firm, picking up the overflow of those that The Pure Seven were unable to grab. The flood was mercifully slowing. Finally, the last of the bodies plunged into Hell and the rain from above resumed to a regular flow of single elements.
Easing away the weave I held, I searched around to assess the damage. It was like the aftermath of a medieval battlefield. Everywhere I looked, people lay bloodied and battered in the black sand. A few had found the strength to sit or even stand, but they were all shaken from the ordeal. The Pure Seven had landed also, gathering around a single spot. It looked like Mary and Phineus were with them too. They were the two people I had seen red Wrath and blue Lust carrying when I first spotted them. I ran over to where they were, shouting for Charlotte and Marlowe to do the same. My friends came to my side, looking overwhelmed by the scale of what lay around us. Charlotte had tears streaking her face. She was pale from the effort it had taken to separate the bodies.
Marlowe kept his calm demeanor on the outside, but his labored breathing gave his true feelings of horror away. We reached the others, who only had eyes for one figure on the ground. The Pure Seven stood in a semicircle, looking down. Phineus was with them. Mary was kneeling on the ground. It was Zoroaster, or what was left of him. One of his legs had been torn away from the hip, the other severed at the knee. One arm was just a stump of bleeding flesh. A tear in his neck looked like something had taken a bite from him. The most ghastly thing of all was that his eyes were open and he was smiling.
“He got the better of us,” Zoroaster said, with a muck-stained mouth, as I knelt over him, “but I took a part of him as well.”
Opening his good hand, an eye rolled out of his palm. The strength Zoroaster must have gathered to do such a thing was staggering. I had barely been able to make Asmodeus bleed, yet here was a whole eye. Phineus came forward, scooping down to pick it up. He held it in his fingers, as though it was evil to touch.
“That devil did this to me once,” he said, “I hope he feels every shred of pain I had.”
The prophet squeezed it in his fist, as if trying to make it pop. The eye held its shape, not budging under the pressure being exerted on it. I stood up, taking the wretched thing. The vile jelly was warm against my skin. Looking deep into its dilated pupil, I knew with a tingling feeling of hatred that it was watching us right now. Taking the thing in my hands, I held it outwards, showing my father through his decapitated sight all the pain he had caused here. I knew he would feel no sorrow for this, yet I showed him anyway. Finally, I brought it to face me, drawing my finger across my throat, to show that he would pay for his wrongdoing. Closing my fingers over it, I charged every ounce of will I had inside me into my fist. I poured disease into the eye, infecting it with malice. The stew of elements did nothing to damage the structure of the body part, but it was now so hopelessly corrupted I hoped it would never function again. Using my talents to assist, I then threw it away, driving it through the air and out of sight. I pushed enough molecules after it to make sure it carried the missile away to the edges of the desert, where it would roll into the lakes of fire. Asmodeus would feel that burning, no matter where he was in the universe. I prayed it stung him every moment of every day from here forward.