by Marie Browne
On his right, carved from glowing alabaster, was the figure of a heavily pregnant sheela-na-gig. Smaller than her male counterpart, she had long hair and heavy breasts. From the exaggerated slit between her legs tumbled fruit, flowers, children and animals; she was depicted as a veritable cornucopia of a woman. Her face was gentle and, unlike her male consort, she seemed to be permanently amused. Both figures appeared to shimmer and warp in the heavily scented smoke from the sensors. As if in a fog, they could be seen only occasionally and never materialised together, solidifying then fading away as the fey breezes decreed. Other items on the table – a dagger, a skull, a horn and a sword – also made brief appearances as the smoke swirled and eddied. I shook my head and tried to look away. There was something disturbingly mesmerising in the interplay of symbols. I felt like a child that could see a biscuit barrel but couldn’t reach it. It was all there for me; all I had to do was find a way to get at it.
I pinched the top of my nose and closed my eyes, but the images continued to throb behind my eyelids: the sword, the skull and the deer-god, then the sword, the horn and the dagger. Each group meant something but I couldn’t work out what it was. Staggering a couple of steps away from the altar I picked at the soft skin under my bicep and pinched – hard. The pulsing images disappeared into the pain and I was left in blessed darkness, with only my rapid heartbeat for company. Opening my eyes, I heaved a sigh of relief and resolutely turned away from the altar.
The smoke, once it had finished gently caressing the devotional items, cascaded in a silent silver grey fall to the cold floor. Moving in tendrils, it crept along the ways and byways of the triskele-shaped labyrinth set into the tiles before the altar. All the paths through the maze seemed to terminate at the centre. Here four trees – roots intertwined and their branches reaching out to honour the quarters – seemed to be the focus of the entire room. It was an eerie and unsettling sight and left me feeling exposed. I backed away until I felt a wall at my back then turned and fled.
Hurrying after the rest of the party I plunged into the gloom of the small side corridor. The smoke tugged at my ankles. Every so often I was sure I could hear laughter. I stopped at the end of the corridor where the sunlight splashed across an open doorway. The scented miasma caught up with me then twisted and writhed in the shadows, rolling and billowing. Just through the door was a garden – all colour and light, warmth and safety. By the open door the smoke twisted and curled back on itself. Individual tendrils would test the light then pull back. Refusing to cross the threshold it sulked on the doorstep. After only a moment’s hesitation I kicked through it. As I stepped out into the rich, sunlit garden full of roses, herbs and other less recognisable varieties of plant life, I realised I’d never been so pleased to see the sun – even if it was the wrong one.
‘Wow!’ Graham was sitting on a wooden bench enjoying the garden. He looked around at me, his mouth open. ‘So what were you saying about this being Hell?’ He shook his head. ‘Hardly fire and brimstone, is it?’ He peered at me. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’ I resisted the urge to turn around and stare back at the smoke. I could feel it watching me from the shadows of the doorway; the hairs on the back of my neck still stood to attention.
‘Zephaniah?’ Belial had taken off down a winding path toward a tiny woman who was sitting on a flat rock, trailing her hand in the shallow pool beside her. She looked up from the book she was reading and shook water droplets from her hand.
As though designed that way, her clothing harmonised and enhanced her surroundings. Her long skirt, woven from a multitude of earthy-coloured threads, was decorated with beads; its home-spun charm matched the beige blouse that she wore. Her only jewellery was a large necklace of a stylised mother holding a child on her lap. This appeared to have been created from molten silver, the rapidly solidified runs of metal giving the piece its abstract detail.
Her long dark hair was striped with strands of grey. She shook it all back and took a long look at the man walking toward her. The blood drained from her face as recognition took hold.
‘Oh no! Belial?’ Jumping up, her book tumbled to the ground and, holding one hand up to keep him away, she stuttered and stammered, ‘Not now. Not after all this time – it’s not fair.’
‘Wait!’ Belial stopped just short of the pink flagstones that ringed the stone edge of the fountain. He reached out toward her.
‘What for?’ The woman stared at him. ‘For you to close us down again, for you to leave again, for you to force people out of their homes and away from what we’ve built here?’ She shook her head, her eyes furious. ‘Why should I be surprised? Have you just been waiting for us to fall? Did you hope that this time we’d come with you and you could lay waste to everything we’ve built just like you tried to last time?’
With every word, she stamped forward until she was chest to stomach with the stuttering Duke of Hell. Belial looked like a man facing an angry cobra.
‘No.’ Belial looked stricken. ‘I’m not here to do any of that.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t do that last time.’ He bent slightly to face the tiny, furious woman. ‘You never knew what was happening over the river – all you ever saw was your little world here. You took care of your children and looked after your followers; you never saw the pain, the misery, the utter degradation of all the people in the lower levels.’
Graham and I wandered a little closer.
‘But you left the very worst here,’ she shouted at him. ‘You left us without protection. You left the worst murderers, the worst conmen, those that used their powers to control others. You left the monsters behind. And you left me.’
Belial turned purple. ‘You wouldn’t leave.’ He bellowed into her face. ‘We had a place for you and your children – a place for your followers– but you just kept banging on about the children and the women down in the city.’ He paused and looked at her. He studied each of her features, blinking only occasionally as if he feared she might disappear. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘I waited to close the gate.’ He reached for her again. ‘I waited for a very long time but you always had just one more person you had to save.’ His arms dropped to his sides. ‘In the end I just couldn’t wait any more and there were some really bad things coming through that gate. I had to close it.’ Stepping around her, he stole her place on the rock and sat down with a thump, his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry.’
Silence fell. Eventually the woman moved her gaze to stare at us. Her eyes widened and she put a hand to her throat as she bowed. ‘Lord,’ she acknowledged.
Graham looked embarrassed and, unsure what to do, gave her a short nod.
At his silence she looked up, confused. Walking over she took a closer look at him. He turned pink and his eyes darted this way and that as he tried to avoid her direct gaze. She turned to Belial. ‘This isn’t right. What’s happened?’
Belial opened his mouth but she held up a hand. ‘We obviously need to talk.’ She looked at me and her eyes widened for a moment before she shook her head.
‘Ma’am.’ I nodded and held my breath. I really didn’t want her piercing gaze resting on me for too long.
‘Where one goes, the other follows.’ She sighed and turned to Belial. ‘Get some sleep.’ She frowned then gave him a grudging smile. ‘I need to do a lot of thinking before I talk to you.’ She paused. ‘I always thought that if I saw you again I could treat you with the contempt that I felt you so very much deserved. I hoped I could walk past and not acknowledge you.’ She sighed. ‘We’ll talk more tomorrow.’
Belial looked up, hopeful for a moment, then he shook his head. ‘We can’t stay. We have to get over the river.’ He stood up with a grunt and straightened the cuffs on his shirt. ‘We may have brought some trouble to your door.’
‘Oh? Now there’s a flaming surprise.’ Zephaniah spoke over her shoulder as she turned away. ‘You’ll be safe here. Sarah will find rooms for you and I’ll see you all in the morning. Just call if you need an
ything.’ As she headed back into the building, at the doorway the smoke parted to let her pass then turned and flowed in her wake like a protective snake.
Carly and I were too tired that night to do more than hold each other and it only seemed a moment before Sarah was once again knocking at our door. She was carrying another tray filled with goodies: teapots and mugs, pastries filled with an unidentifiable spice, small rounds of toast, thick with butter and a type of jam that tasted like a cross between raspberry and quince – all good things that heralded the morning. Looking around the opulent room, with its four-poster bed, heavy rug and crimson curtains, it didn’t take too much effort to imagine myself in a high-class hotel. Dawdling over my second cup of tea and listening to the sounds of running water from the small bathroom, I wondered what it would be like to have a life – a real life. To never know or care anything about gods and demons; to have the choice of what to believe instead of having it chase me around with flaming swords or turn into a fire-breathing lizard once in a while.
I hadn’t had nearly enough time to enjoy myself when Farr stepped through the door. His hair was neatly brushed and his jeans pressed into a single crease. Keril, his scales slightly out of skew from an obviously troubled night’s sleep, lounged behind him eating a pastry. ‘Parity says the silver gate has been torn down.’ Farr swallowed, his large Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin throat. ‘I think we need to tell Belial.’
It only took me a moment to process this statement.
‘Where’s Belial?’ I shouted at Sarah. She jumped, her eyes wide and dropped a mug. I watched as it tumbled slowly through the air to smash on the flagstones beneath the small table.
‘With Mother Abbess in the garden.’ The girl looked at the shards of crockery for a moment and then turned and ran. I ran after her, Keril and Farr at my heels.
As I raced after Sarah, I heard the tolling of a bell. There was someone at the door and I could almost guarantee it wasn’t the Avon lady.
Chanting junior acolytes, walking in a long line through the nave, exclaimed as we raced through them. In the distance I could see a shambling figure in blue heading toward the door. Keril had stopped and was screaming at the girls to run, get away. Terrified by his strange appearance they’d scattered like startled chickens.
‘William! No!’ I screamed. The strange acoustics of the cathedral took my voice away, flinging it up into the painted forest that was the ceiling and speeding its descent, splitting it and sending it spiralling away to echo around the nave.
William glanced up as I bore down on him but, fixated on the door, he turned back to the job in hand. ‘Farr!’ I shouted as I ran. ‘Get Belial.’ Farr skidded to a halt and then turned and pelted off in the opposite direction. Watching with a dull fascination I saw William smooth his tunic and reach for the door handle. Keril shouted ‘Shit!’ behind me. I pulled out my knife and put on a turn of speed.
There was no way we could have stopped him. Smiling serenely, William took a deep breath and lifted the heavy latch before stepping back with a clumsy bow to admit those who requested access.
The door swung open and Michael, wings aloft, stepped into the nave. His sword was drawn and behind him I could see small piles of pebbles, stones and smashed concrete. In amongst the rubble, here the head of a dragon or a cat, there a hand with a finger extended. The protective gargoyles had obviously put up a good fight. William glanced up then dropped into an even deeper bow – his smile shaky, his face pale.
His head bounced from his toes and rolled across the floor. The clean cut smoked and blackened.
‘Nooooo!’ I felt my stomach roll.
Michael stepped over the body, fastidiously wiping his blade on the fluttering tunic as he went past. Six minor angels followed him in through the door and also stepped over the body. Fanning out, they moved to surround Keril. One of them laid his sword across the demon’s arm and smiled as Keril gritted his teeth against the burning flame.
‘Stay very still, demon.’ The angel smiled; it wasn’t anywhere near as real or joyful as William’s had been.
I slithered to a halt in front of Michael who was dangerously calm. I sheathed my knife. There was no way I could fight him. All I had was the vague hope that he wasn’t as bright as he looked. I gave him a cheery grin. ‘Michael, about time you got here,’ I said.
‘Joe.’ He lifted a lip at me. ‘You’ve given us somewhat of a run-around. I am so looking forward to cutting you into tiny, tiny pieces.’
I stared at him. ‘Really?’ I shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t think Metatron will be happy about that. I know I wouldn’t be but Metatron’s a better man than me, so maybe he’ll forgive you.’
‘Vlad Tepes was a better man than you.’ Michael took a step toward me, studying his nails. ‘If he’d confessed he’d probably have had his sins forgiven.’ He paused. ‘You on the other hand are unforgivable.’
I shrugged. ‘What is there to forgive?’ I folded my arms and studied him. ‘I just wanted to prove that I could do something right. There were all those comments about me being useless. Now look: Lucifer’s out, Hell’s open and, if you hadn’t been so bloody hell bent on killing me at that gate, you could have had him. I wasn’t going to hang around for you to cut me in two.’
Michael stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder. Bending slightly he gave me a long look. ‘You expect me to believe that all this was done by you to prove yourself?’ He laughed. ‘That is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.’ He drew his sword and yawned. ‘Honestly a child could make up a better story than that.’
Pulling my shoulder from under his hand I glared straight into his cold lilac eyes. ‘I really don’t care what you believe, but Metatron said if I could find Lucifer this would be the last job I ever had to do.’ I pushed my hands into my pockets and then turned to Keril. ‘Bring Graham here.’
Keril rocked backward. ‘What?’ He winced as the gently smiling angel applied pressure with the sword. There was the smell of burning metal as the flame licked over the scales on his arm.
I glanced at Michael. ‘I’m not taking you to him because I don’t want you anywhere near Carly – I don’t trust you – but I will bring him to you. Just let Keril go and get him.’
‘Fuck off!’ Keril struggled in the firm grip. ‘Just have them kill me here and now – I’m not getting anyone.’
‘Well, that’s no fun.’ I stared at Keril. ‘But having you watch your sister and nephew die would be fairly amusing.’ I shrugged. ‘You will get him or I’ll tell Michael where he can find Alice and Arden.’ I stared at the struggling demon. ‘I heard which worlds they were heading for and I’m sure that two less Drekavak around would please the Host greatly. They already consider you vermin. But you bring Graham here and they stay safe.’
‘You bastard.’ Keril slumped.
My heart ached at the defeated tone in his voice. We’d come so close to being friends.
‘Yeah,’ I shrugged. ‘I think we already ascertained that.’ I turned away from him and faced Michael. ‘Right, first they were heading for Karonet …’
Michael frowned. His sword dimmed and the flame went out. He didn’t believe me – that much was obvious – but he glanced up to watch Keril’s reaction.
‘No!’ Keril shouted as he struggled against the angel’s arm. ‘I’ll get him – just wait a minute.’ He faced me, his scales lifting and dropping – a sure sign of deep distress. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
‘You don’t, no one can trust me. I’m completely self-centred and only interested in me. I’d give you my word but you know what that would be worth.’ I laughed. ‘You can have it though, if it makes you feel better.’
Michael stood back with a look of deep disgust. ‘You really are a traitor through and through, aren’t you? You have no loyalties whatsoever.’
I swung round and poked Michael in the chest. Gritting my teeth I screamed up at him. ‘I’ve had enough! I want what Metatron promised me.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ve had eno
ugh of you, the demons, the intrigue … I’m done with it all. Metatron promised that finding Lucifer would be my last job – that’s all I want. As soon as the boss has what he wants I’m out of here and I hope to never lay eyes on any of you ever again.’ I rubbed a hand over my face, surprised by my stinging eyes and the lump in my throat. ‘I don’t care if the world’s ending – I just want a lifetime where I don’t know any of you.’ There are times when the truth just leaks out all over.
Raphael walked through the door. After taking a long look at the headless body still smoking on the floor he studied the situation that was playing out between Michael and I. Silent, he leant on the wall beside the door, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. He was far more intelligent than Michael could ever hope to be. I didn’t make eye contact with him.
Michael chewed his lip then shrugged. ‘Now that I can almost believe.’ He waved a hand and the angel stepped away from the distraught Drekavak, who edged back across the floor toward the altar.
‘Keril?’ I looked over my shoulder at him. ‘You’ve got about a minute to get him back here before I start drawing maps.’
Keril gave me one long mutinous look and then turned to leave.
Fumbling in my pocket, I watched him walk away. Although it sounded as though I was harrying Keril, in my head I directed my next comment toward my knuckle-dusters. ‘Faster, please!’ I called.
Michael watched with a big grin. ‘Joe, you just ooze with all the best human qualities, don’t you.’ He turned to look down at me. ‘However, I’m mortally insulted that you’d think I’d fall for this crap but it’s been a real joy watching you try and fool me.’ His sword appeared in his hand once more. ‘I’ve always promised myself that I would get rid of you.’ He shook his head and gave a small hitch of his wings. ‘I’ll apologise to Metatron, of course – he had other plans for you and I may have to apologise a lot, but I’m sure he’ll understand.’