by Alex Bell
The Cherubim, second highest choir of angels, were said to have been formed from the tears that Michael shed over human sins. It would seem indeed that he is a powerful force to be reckoned with, and his existence comforts me in the wake of hours spent reading of powerful, reckless devils.
I am glad that I started this journal. It is a focus; it grounds me in some sense of reality, of stability. It is an anchor for my soul, not allowing me to become too detached. I sometimes worry that all my research into angels and their fallen brothers serves only to further distance me from those around me; to further sever the already tenuous link I have to this world and bring me closer to theirs.
12th October
Last night I dreamed I was in Salem in 1692, on trial for witchcraft. The public gallery was full. There was malevolence . . . everywhere. Pummelling me in waves from every person in the courtroom. And ill children sitting on a bench together with their parents, too frightened to look at me. The judge walked in and everyone stood up. The muttering died down into silence as the judge addressed me.
‘Gabriel Antaeus, you stand before the court accused of witchcraft. How do you plead?’
‘Not guilty,’ I said.
The judge stared at that, as if my answer astounded him, and an excited murmur went round the court.
‘But you have already admitted to talking to Satan.’
‘No, no, I haven’t,’ I protested. ‘I’ve never even seen him! It was Mephistopheles! He tricked me! He tricked me into talking to him!’
‘So you admit to talking to demons?’
‘Yes, but I never—’
‘And what about these poor children?’ the judge asked, gesturing to the ones sitting on the front bench. ‘Isn’t it true that you cast a spell over them to cause their illness?’
‘No! That wasn’t me, it was Moloch! Look, where is Zadkiel Stephomi? He will speak for me.’
Even as I spoke I saw Moloch standing beside the kids, touching them with his unnaturally long black fingers, leaning closer towards them to mutter words of sickness in their ears.
‘For God’s sake, get those children out of here!’ I cried.
‘How dare you threaten the children in a court of law!’ the Judge roared, rising from his seat.
‘I’m not! I’m not threatening them!’ I shouted back desperately, raising my voice over the outrage of the public in the gallery. ‘It’s not me! It’s Moloch, I can see him right there! He’s cursing them! He’s the one making them ill! Find Zadkiel Stephomi, I tell you, he’ll speak for me!’
‘Silence,’ the Judge thundered, bringing his mallet down on the anvil until the noise in the room subsided. Then he looked directly at me once again. ‘Everyone here knows that a witch is incapable of reciting the Lord’s Prayer,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘If you truly mean the children no harm, if you truly are not a witch . . . then you will be able to recite it before us now. If you can do so, you will walk free. If not, you will be burned at the stake for witchcraft and communication with the Devil.’
I gazed at the judge, hardly able to believe my ears. ‘If I recite the prayer, I walk free?’
‘That is correct.’
Relief swept over me. I knew the prayer, of course, knew it perfectly by heart. I took a deep breath and began, ‘“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name . . .”’ I got that far before I faltered at the sight of Mephistopheles, standing next to the judge and grinning at me. Unlike Moloch, Mephistopheles looked almost like a man, but I knew him instantly for what he was.
‘Isn’t this madness, Gabriel?’ he asked softly. ‘Nineteen men and women in the grave already because of this hysteria. These hypocrites are about to burn you at the stake. You do realise that, don’t you?’
Hurriedly, I continued with the prayer, very aware of the silent court watching me. ‘“Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven—”’
‘Hell’s not so bad,’ Mephistopheles went on, glancing round the courtroom with a sneer. ‘Better than here, anyway. I expect you’ll prefer it.’
‘“Give us this day our daily bread,”’ I went on, desperately trying to ignore the demon. One slip up, just one tiny inaccuracy in my recital, and I knew these bloodthirsty people would string me up by my neck or tie me to a stake. I could see in their hungry eyes how much they wanted me to fail. They had grown to love the smell of burning flesh. I must not let the demon distract me. ‘“And forgive us our trespasses—”’
‘This judge is a pious, hateful little shit, isn’t he?’ Mephistopheles asked, looking down at the man’s face. ‘You’ll hang whatever you do, you know. One of the sick children is his son. Someone has to pay for that.’
‘“As we forgive those who trespass against us,”’ I went on desperately, closing my eyes to block the demon out. Just three more sentences. Three more and I would walk free! ‘“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the—”’
Suddenly I broke off, choking. Mephistopheles was by my side now, his hands clamped tightly around my throat. The court murmured with pleased excitement at my very evident distress.
‘Don’t be obstinate, Gabriel,’ Mephistopheles said calmly as I clawed frantically at his hands. ‘Your time is up. You’re going to burn out there today, I’m afraid.’
‘“The kingdom‚”’ I wheezed, my lungs burning with the effort. ‘“The power—”’
‘No!’ Mephistopheles snapped coldly. ‘This is it, Gabriel. Time to go. Lucifer has sent for you.’
‘Take him out and burn him!’ the Judge was roaring.
No! I screamed at them in my mind. I can finish it! I could recite it perfectly if only Mephistopheles wasn’t strangling me! How can you not see him? It’s not the prayer that’s choking me to death, it’s the fucking demon!
I desperately tried to draw enough breath just to say the last few words, but I couldn’t get any air at all now. There were tears running down my face - from the extraordinary pain of being unable to breathe and the awful knowledge of how I was going to die. The demon would never let me finish the Lord’s Prayer. He wouldn’t let me prove my innocence to anyone. I couldn’t prevent my body from twitching, jerking horribly, desperate for oxygen I could not get. The agony of it was unbelievable. People were on their feet now, running towards me, roaring with glee and pious bloodlust.
My vision blurred alarmingly and my head went light, but no sooner had my knees hit the floor than I was being dragged up again by the mob and Mephistopheles’ grip was gone, the air rushing back into my starving lungs, burning like acid. ‘“And the glory,”’ I gasped at last, but it was far too late by then. They were going to tie me to a stake and burn me until there was nothing but dust and ash left. They dragged me out of the courthouse to the stake driven into the ground outside. It had been used before: the blackened body of a man was even now being taken down from it. And although most of his skin was gone so that I could clearly see the skull beneath the flaking flesh, it was quite clear to me that this burned out corpse had once been Zadkiel Stephomi.
‘No!’ I screamed, waking myself up at last. ‘No, no, I can say it! “Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name . . .”’
I wasn’t a witch! I wasn’t a witch! I didn’t talk to demons! I could just see them, that was all. That was all! That didn’t make me something evil, did it? I pushed back the sheets, switched on the lamp and stood before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, still reciting the Lord’s Prayer. I recited it five hundred times, absolutely perfectly. I proved to myself I did not deserve to burn. It was only a nightmare. I could recite the prayer for ever and never make a mistake because I held God close to my heart and was loyal to Him. Indeed, it was only the sun coming up and shining through the windows that made me realise how long I had been standing there repeating the prayer, and then I broke out of the trance. I had already more than proved my point.
16th October
From the snatches of conversation I have had with Casey over
the past week, I’ve learned that she moved to Hungary from America when she was twelve. She claims that she and her brother stayed behind when her parents moved back to America, but I’m not sure that I believe this. What parents would emigrate leaving their children behind? I suspect her parents disowned her when they found out she was pregnant, and perhaps she ran away, taking the brother with her. It’s clear that she dotes on him.
From what I’ve gathered, she has several different jobs, both at night and during the day. I said one day that if she ever needed something to tide her over she could come to me, but she didn’t look very happy so I quickly backed off. Did she think . . . did she actually think that I was suggesting something improper? I was only trying to be kind, but we have to be suspicious of kindness now, don’t we?
Sex complicates everything. I can’t help thinking that there must be an easier way for the human race to continue, generation by generation. Children can be friends with other children of the opposite gender without it mattering at all. Perhaps, to put Casey at ease, I should lie and tell her I’m a eunuch. But I don’t think that would be a very easy thing to slip into a casual conversation. It’s not the kind of thing that normal people just come out and say, is it? Oh, by the way, have I mentioned before that I’m a eunuch? Because I am, you know . . .
I’ve seen Stephomi a couple of times this week, but I didn’t enjoy meeting him as much as usual. It was my fault, for I persisted in asking him questions and didn’t much like the answers he gave. This battle . . . this War, or whatever it is, troubles me greatly; yet Stephomi seems to be almost indifferent to it. Another habit of his which upsets me is his tendency to refer to angels and demons alike as angels, maintaining that demons are simply fallen angels who have lost favour with God. But there should be rules, there should be boundaries. There should be distinct, separate groups. Otherwise the labels become meaningless . . . angel, demon, human . . . different words for the exact same thing . . .
‘I don’t know why you get so upset about it, Gabriel. Why does it matter if we’re all the same? What’s so awful about the idea that demons can sometimes do the right thing and angels can be narrow-minded selfish little shits?’
‘Shut up!’ I said sharply, unable to stop myself from flinching at his words. ‘For God’s sake, listen to yourself! Do you know what goes on in Hell? Do you know what the demons do to people down there?’
I decided it was my duty to enlighten him so I proceeded to explain the tortures of each Circle one by one; but when I got to the Seventh Circle and the centaurs that guarded the rim of the lake of hot blood, shooting any souls who attempted to rise, Stephomi appalled me by throwing back his head and laughing at what I’d said. Really laughing! I stared at him, speechless.
‘I’m sorry, Gabriel . . .’ he said, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. ‘It just sounds like such fun.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Do you think the centaurs keep track of their scores? You know, like target practice. Perhaps on a really good day they even hold tournaments?’
I’d heard enough by this point so I threw up my hands and stood up, intending to leave. But Stephomi caught my arm as I walked by, and when I glared down at him, he was looking at me in an odd way, this strange smile twisting his lips. ‘Do you know what I think would do you good, Gabriel?’ he asked. ‘I think you should reacquaint yourself with Lilith’s story. Look me in the eye and tell me that angels are perfect beings and devils are nothing but monsters after that.’
‘Lilith?’ I repeated with a frown.
‘Adam’s first wife.’
‘There’s no truth to that legend,’ I said dismissively.
‘What makes you say so?’
‘There is no mention of her in Genesis.’
‘Ah. Perhaps, after all, there are some elements of our history that God would rather not have recorded?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I snapped.
Stephomi sighed as he released my arm. ‘Lately I seem to offend you whenever we see each other, Gabriel. I’m sorry about that. But take my word for it - Adam did have another wife before Eve. She does exist. And her name is Lilith.’
I felt a little guilty after that, for I realised I’d been blaming Stephomi for a situation that was not his doing. He’s just a messenger in all this. . . I have decided that Stephomi’s occasional outbursts - like this issue over the Seventh Circle - are nothing but a defence mechanism. He is scared too, but he does not wish to show his fear to me. So he covers it with highly inappropriate jokes. But I forgive him, for he cannot help it. I did some reading on the theories of Freud and Jung and I realise now that his behaviour is not his fault. He is a textbook example of a man who cannot cope with his fear; cannot meet it head on, as I can.
At Stephomi’s suggestion, I returned home and read of Lilith’s story. I think I might have been vaguely familiar with the myth before I lost my memory, but I’m sure that I didn’t know the story in detail. Maybe I never bothered to look into it in any great depth because the Bible certainly doesn’t acknowledge that Adam ever had a wife before Eve, and Genesis makes it quite clear that Adam and Eve were the first humans to be created.
Lilith’s story is a dark, twisted, vulgar tale. I find the whole thing most distasteful and don’t wish to believe in its authenticity. The Bible should be the last word on all such things. But Stephomi’s words have been ringing in my ears . . . She does exist. And her name is Lilith. And after all, he should know, shouldn’t he? He who openly admits to having assisted demons when they’ve asked him to. For the legend goes that Lilith became a demon after rejecting Adam and leaving the Garden of Eden - an idea that clearly parallels Lucifer’s rejection of God and flight from Heaven.
In the beginning, Adam was the only human within the Garden of Eden. After some time he tired of coupling with animals and asked God if he might have a female companion of his own. And God sent Lilith, and she and Adam were married that very day. How very nice. But then Lilith refused to take up the subservient position for Adam at his demand during sexual intercourse . . . Yes, how very awful of her. So, naturally, Adam responded by trying to rape his wife.
But Lilith managed to throw her husband off and ran from Paradise, making her home instead in a cave by the Red Sea where she entertained hordes of demons, finding them kinder and gentler lovers than her estranged husband. She proceeded to bear hundreds of demon babies that went on to plague mankind for centuries before Satan’s fall from grace. The story reminds me of the tale of the angelic Watchers, procreating with mortal women who gave birth to a race of giants, thereby bringing a terrible Apocalypse upon the world.
God was incensed by the First Woman’s behaviour. How dare she be such a disobedient wife and refuse to submit to rape? The horror of it! Three angels named Sanvi, Sansanvi and Semangelaf were sent to order her back to Adam. Lilith refused, preferring the company of the demons to her human husband. As a result, God sent angels to murder many of her demonic children, causing Lilith great grief and pain, but still she would not return to the Garden.
God created a new woman for Adam, this time fashioning her from Adam’s rib to ensure that she would be a passive and subservient wife. And for some time, they did indeed live together in peace and happiness within the paradise God had created for them. And Lilith sat alone in her sea-washed cave, surrounded by the twisted corpses of her hideous demon-babies, grieving and weeping for them. And in her forsaken isolation and misery, she swore vengeance on all the helpless newborn children to be born to mankind in the years to come.
The vile wickedness of her vow transformed her into a powerful demoness, flying through the winds of the world for all eternity, looking for innocent, defenceless babies to devour and consume. Jewish folklore maintains that the only way to protect babies from Lilith is to hang amulets in the four corners of the baby’s room, each inscribed with the names of the three angels who first confronted Lilith in her cave beside the sea.
An extension of the myth is tha
t Lilith is also a powerful Temptress, tempting mortal men to father demons upon her. Or, alternatively, seducing them in their sleep - the unacknowledged cause of embarrassing nocturnal emissions. She was said to take particularly malicious delight in having her way with pious, celibate Christian monks and virgins during their sleep. It became such a problem that, in the end, the unfortunate monks were forced to take crucifixes to bed, covering their groins with them, so that Lilith wouldn’t dare approach while they slept. I think it would be unwise to repeat this grand solution to Stephomi, for I know that he would laugh, and it’s really not funny at all.
Anyway, I can’t believe Lilith’s story is true. I’m sure God would never have allowed it. I mean, God would never condone a crime as disgusting as rape, would He? He would have punished Adam for what he’d tried to do, if the story really were true. It’s just an unfounded and unsubstantiated myth, that’s all. Adam was not a rapist and he did not have sex with animals . . . And yet this story troubles me, picking at my mind and tugging at my faith in a most unpleasant way. Unable to get the story out of my head, I telephoned Stephomi to ask him about Adam’s abandoned wife. ‘Have you ever seen her?’ I asked.