Whistling Past the Graveyard (Nicki Styx)

by Terri Garey

  He turned his face away, as though he couldn’t bear to look at me.

  “Your wife is waiting for you at the gates of Sheol,” I told him. “She won’t go into the Light without you.”

  One moment he was across the room, and the next he had me by the shoulders, his eyes burning into mine. “You lie,” he hissed, baring his teeth in a snarl. “My wife would never be in a place like Sheol, never!”

  I was scared, but I didn’t look away. “I’m telling the truth! I saw her myself!”

  He shook me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my upper arms. “Are you a she-demon, sent to torment me? Who has put these words in your mouth, that you should spew such poison in my ears?”

  “I see the spirits of the dead.” I didn’t even try to pull away. “I was taken to Sheol by a demon, to try and talk your wife’s spirit into going into the Light. He said that she doesn’t belong there, but that she wouldn’t leave on her own.”

  Seth released me suddenly, pushing me away as if the touch of me disgusted him. “I trust not in the words of demons, or those who deal with them,” he spat.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing my shoulders. “I’m telling you that she’s there, both she and the baby.”

  He stalked toward the door and tore it open, waving my words away.

  “Your wife has dark hair and blue eyes, and she said that when your daughter was a month old, you were going to name her Gili.”

  He froze, his back very straight.

  “She said it means ‘joy’.” I knew the pain I was causing him, but I couldn’t stop now. “Your wife said that you’d given up Heaven for her, and that she wasn’t going anywhere that you couldn’t go. I’m not sure how, or for how long, but she’s been sitting outside the gates of Sheol, waiting for you, knowing that one day you’ll come, because in the end, you can’t go anywhere else.”

  There was a silence, fraught with tension. “You show up out of nowhere, tell me that you’ve met with demons and see spirits, and speak to me of Hell,” he finally said, turning to face me. Grief was carved in every line of his features. He gestured behind him, toward the row of nightmarish paintings. “I’m already in Hell, every single day of my life.” He shook his head, his gaze turning inward. “Samael the Fallen is a liar, and a trickster, and I will not be drawn into some stupid, wild goose chase for his amusement.” He gestured again toward the door. “Get out, and tell him I said so.”

  I almost went. I actually took one step toward the door, but in my mind’s eye, I saw Seth’s wife, cradling that newborn baby, surrounded by leaping shadows and the eerie wails of lost, maddened souls.

  “You’re right. Samael the Fallen is a liar and a trickster, and it’s entirely possible that he’s playing us both for fools.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “I’m not doing this for him, any more than I’m doing it for you. I’m doing it for her, and for the baby. She believes that if she waits long enough, she’ll see you again, and that belief is keeping her from moving on. Can you go through the rest of eternity knowing that I might have been telling the truth?”

  His voice was ragged, his expression bleak. “Even if you are, what can I possibly do about it?”

  I studied him, searching for a glimmer of hope. “Your wife mentioned something about Samael owing you a favor.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “I was foolish enough to support him once, as I disagreed with the reason for his banishment. When I, too, was banished, he came to me, seeking my support once again, but I refused it.” He stood a bit taller, squaring his shoulders. “I wanted merely to be left in peace, with Mara. He owed me that much.”

  “So he agreed to leave her be?”

  A stiff nod answered me. “Forever. Her soul is her own, to do with as she wills.”

  “So that’s why he needed me,” I mused, more to myself than Seth. “Still… it’s very unlike Sammy to keep his end of a bargain.”

  “I spoke up for him, even when the other angels didn’t. In the end, chose the same path, though I knew full well the cost of loving a mortal woman.” His gaze became distant, turning inward as he remembered. “Samael’s anger toward the One does not extend toward me.”

  “You have to go and get her,” I told him simply.

  “I cannot.” He shook his head. “I have no power in Sheol. I have no way to get there, and no way to return. It is a place for the dead, and I am very much alive.” His expression was bleak. “Everlasting life is part of my punishment.”

  “I’m not dead, and I was there,” I argued. “There has to be a way you can go, too.”

  The look he gave me was so full of pain that it hurt my heart. “I would gladly lay down my life for Mara,” he said quietly. “But it is not an option. I am immortal.”

  I stared at him, thinking furiously. “Maybe it’s time to ask your old friend Sammy for a favor of your own.”

  “How?” he asked harshly, turning away to pace in frustration. “We’re hardly on a first name basis these days.”

  I looked out the window, noticing that it was still dark outside. It seemed like days had gone by since Nyx had surprised me in the hallway of my house, but it had apparently been less than a few hours.

  “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.” My head still hurt, and I was tired, so I lowered myself to a seat on Seth’s couch. “Do you, by any chance, know how to summon demons?”

  He made a noise of disgust. “Of course I do, but it’s both dangerous and foolish. When one opens a portal to evil, one never knows what may step through.” He set his jaw. “I may have fallen, but I have not forgotten that I was once a guardian. I won’t dishonor myself, or Mara’s memory, by seeking my own happiness through the suffering of others.”

  I rubbed my eyes, suffering a little bit myself. “Ok, let me rephrase that. Do you know how to call forth a specific demon?”

  “If I knew the demon’s name, yes. To know their name is to have power over them.”

  I gave him a grim smile, thinking about how a certain stone-faced gargoyle jerk was going to be very sorry for dropping me off in a bad neighborhood in the middle of the night, hundreds of miles from home.

  Chapter 4

  It took some persuading, but once Seth heard me out, he finally agreed.

  “We’re fortunate that it’s Sunday,” he said, “and even more fortunate to still be in the fourth hour.”

  I didn’t feel particularly fortunate, as I was usually sound asleep at 4:30 a.m. on a Sunday (and liked it that way), but I didn’t argue with him.

  “The hours and the days are very important when it comes to the summoning of spirits.” He gestured toward an inner door. “I have preparations to make, and I must do them in private. It’s best if you stay in the other room.”

  I got up off the couch. “I’ll give you privacy during your preparations, but no way am I missing this.” I couldn’t wait to see Nyx’s face when he got ordered around by an avenging angel. “Could I borrow your phone?”

  Seth shook his head. “I have no phone.”

  My face must’ve shown my surprise, for he stated, rather abruptly, “I have no one to call, and no need for others to call me.”

  I sighed, my wish to call Joe overridden, yet again, by events beyond my control. In all honesty, I knew he wouldn’t have missed me yet, but I could’ve used hearing a friendly voice; I’d been to Hell and back, almost mugged, and was currently stranded in Philadelphia with a heartbroken, angry angel who was about to summon a demon.

  Weirdly, things like this didn’t shake me up as much as they once would have—once you start seeing dead people, unusual events kind of come with the territory.

  I went through the inner door to find myself in a small bathroom, which at the moment, suited me just fine. A look in the mirror revealed a smudged face, messy hair, and a small bandage on my forehead. Taking my time, I cleaned up as best I could, washing my face and fingering my hair into place, sweeping my bangs to hide the bandage. My face
looked pretty bare with no makeup, but my normal eyeliner and mascara would’ve been a mess by now anyway, and at least my short hair had been recently cut and colored. Even after the night I’d had, I took a moment to admire the sheen of Black Cherry gloss with dark pink streaks.

  When I heard Seth call me from the living room, I eased the door open carefully to see that he was ready to start the summoning.

  He stood by the window, surrounded by his paintings, arms raised to the heavens. He’d set a row of candles on the floor in a straight line, and they flickered and glowed. When he saw me, he gestured for me to come and stand behind him and the candles, which I did.

  Then he started talking. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but his tone was forceful, demanding. He spoke to the air, to the night, to the shadows. Whatever language he was using, I’d never heard it before, and was pretty well certain that I never would again.

  Then I heard him use Nyx’s name, and the sound of it raised goose bumps on my arms. He said it again and again, interspersed with other words that I wouldn’t be able to repeat if I tried. Though the lights were on and the candles were lit, the room got darker and darker, until I could no longer see the couch where I’d been sitting earlier. Then, in the very center of the darkness itself, I saw two bright spots of red, and recognized them for what they were: Nyx’s eyes, glowing red with rage.

  Seth kept talking, more and more forcefully. Very slowly, the rest of Nyx took shape, black wings spread high and wide. He brought with him a rush of heat, the rotten-egg stench of sulphur, and a malevolence that was so pervasive you could almost touch it.

  The Chief Servant of Darkness had arrived, and he was pissed.

  “Who dares summon me from the void?” he roared, and if I hadn’t already spent some time in his rather cranky company, I would’ve been scared to death. As it was, I just kept quiet and let Seth handle him.

  “My name is not important, demon.” Seth stood tall, letting his own wings unfurl. They were white, reaching nearly to the ceiling, and from my vantage point behind him, I could see every feather, each one as pale and perfect as to be nearly translucent. “What is important is that I know thy name, and by all that is holy, thou shall obey me in word and deed.”

  “Speak to me not of things holy,” growled Nyx, “and I obey no one save my master.”

  “Your master isn’t here, Nyx,” Seth said, spreading his hands, “and I know the words of power as well as he, for we learned them together, in the time before time. I command you to speak only truth in answer to my questions, and deal with me with all mildness and civility.”

  Nyx glared, wings quivering, but came no closer. “Ask your questions,” he spat, “but keep your mildness and civility to yourself.”

  Seth shouted an unpronounceable word, startling me with the suddenness of it, and I watched as Nyx flinched, turning his head away from Seth’s voice.

  The big meanie hadn’t looked at me once, and I was glad, content to remain in the relative shadow of Seth’s wings.

  “I’m told that the spirit of a woman once known as Mara waits by the gates of Sheol,” Seth said to Nyx, getting right to the point. “Is this true?”

  “Many spirits pass through the gates of Sheol,” Nyx replied sullenly. “I do not keep track of their names.”

  I had to give him credit for answering truthfully, even though he was dodging the question.

  “Answer me plainly, demon! Does the spirit of a woman once known as Mara wait at the gates of Sheol?”

  The question of whether or not Nyx had noticed me was answered when he shot me a dirty, red-eyed look. “Yes,” he grated.

  “Does she carry with her the spirit of an infant child?”

  “She does.”

  “Did you take this person—” he gestured toward me, “—into the Abyss to retrieve them?”

  “I did.” Nyx gave me a really, good solid glare this time. “And a poor job she made of it, too.”

  Tempted as I was to speak up in my own defense, I contented myself with a return glare of my own. No way was I going to say or do anything to mess things up for Seth, as he seemed to have everything under control.

  “Take me to her,” Seth demanded, taking a step closer to the candles, still burning in a line on the floor. “Take me to the gates of Sheol.”

  “I cannot,” Nyx said, crossing his blackened arms over his chest. “Despite your fall from grace, you are still a creature of Light, and such light will not penetrate the Void.” He managed to insert a sneer into his tone. “I believe the rules were set by your own master, long ago, in the time before time.”

  “If Samael the Fallen can do it, then so can I,” Seth argued, but Nyx shook his head.

  “Samael the Fallen is a creature of darkness,” he stated with finality. “You may have defied your Creator and lost your access to the heavens, but your heart remains pure. The Abyss is closed to you, and ever shall be.”

  Seth’s shoulders slumped, just a fraction, and though he kept his head high, I could sense his frustration and disappointment.

  “Then bring Mara and her child here,” I blurted, stepping out from behind Seth’s wings. “You can do it, I know you can.”

  Nyx said nothing.

  “Is this true?” demanded Seth. “Can you bring them here, to me?”

  “The Abyss is ruled by Samael the Fallen, the High Lord Prince of Darkness,” Nyx replied stonily. “It is not within my power to breach the line between Darkness and Light unless he wills it so.” He jerked his chin contemptuously toward me. “In all the eons, she has been the only one for whom he has made the exception.”

  “He’ll make an exception for me,” Seth stated grimly, “if I so ask it.”

  “Is that your desire?” The faint gleam of satisfaction in Nyx’s eyes warned me, just in time. “Shall I return to my master and ask this boon on your behalf?”

  “No!” I put a hand on Seth’s arm, stopping him before he could reply. My mind raced, going over all that had happened that night, and I realized suddenly why Sammy had involved me in this tragic situation. It hadn’t had anything to do with how the baby’s crying “disturbed the revenants”, and nothing to do with sending two lost souls into the Light. It had been a set-up, plain and simple, one in which Seth would be indebted to Sammy, instead of the other way around.

  “Don’t make any bargains with him,” I said urgently. “That’s what Sammy wanted all along, don’t you see? He wants you to work for him, on his behalf… he wants your soul!”

  Seth laughed, low and bitter. “My soul is useless to me, Nicki Styx. If it will help my wife and child to find peace, then Samael is welcome to it.”

  “Excellent,” Nyx said, in a smarmy, self-satisfied sort of way. “Say the words of power to release me, and I shall relay your offer to my master.”

  “Don’t let him go,” I urged Seth. “Make him bring Mara and the baby here.”

  Seth hesitated. “I’m not sure I can,” he said, in a lowered voice. “He is an extremely powerful demon, the personal servant of the Lord of the Abyss.”

  My hand was still on Seth’s arm, and I squeezed it, hard. “And you are Seth, husband of Mara, father of Gili, former Servant of the Light,” I insisted. “Concentrate, and make the Devil’s personal demon your bitch.”

  His jaw set, the muscles of his arm tensing beneath my hand.

  “Mara put her faith in you because of who you are,” I reminded him, “not because of who you were. Don’t let her down by becoming a pawn of someone else. Don’t let the Darkness win.”

  He took a deep breath, and I could see in his eyes that his decision had been made. “You must go,” he said tersely. “I cannot guarantee your safety otherwise.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t guarantee my safety any way you look at it,” I said. “Evil finds us no matter where we hide.” Releasing the death grip I had on his arm, I gave it a final, gentle pat. “I’m staying.”

  He hesitated, then nodded abruptly, turning his full attention t
o Nyx. “There will be no bargain, demon. I have used the words of binding, and will not release you from them until you do as I say. Bring the spirits of Mara and the child here, to me.”

  Nyx drew himself up, chest swelling, the tips of his wings quivering dangerously. “Fool,” he hissed. His eyes, lit from within like fiery coals, turned nearly incandescent with rage. “You’re nothing but a weakling, dressed in feathers! I do not answer to you!”

  Seth wasted no time arguing, and started using angel-speak again. This time, instead of a lot of different words I didn’t understand, he uttered just one short phrase, over and over. It was a tongue-twister, for sure, something like, “Sal-mani-ag-palal-talal”.

  “You’re nothing but a shadow of the creature you once were,” shouted Nyx, trying to drown him out. “An angel? Bah! My master knew that true power must be taken, and wielded, without mercy!”

  I was beginning to get the rhythm of whatever it was that Seth was saying. After all, I didn’t need to understand it to pronounce it, now did I?

  “I do not accept your authority,” Nyx bellowed, his wings beginning to flap. The resulting breeze was downright noxious, and blew out all the candles on the floor. “I am a creature of darkness, formed from the Void itself! A creature as frail and ethereal as a fallen seraphim shall have no power over me!”

  I looked over at Seth, and started to get nervous. His face was red, the muscles of his neck corded with effort as he repeated the same phrase, over and over.

  Figuring I had nothing whatsoever to lose, I joined my voice to Seth’s, and started shouting the same phrase he was shouting.

  “Sal-mani-ag-palal-talal! Sal-mani-ag-palal-talal!”

  Over and over we shouted it, until my throat started to hurt and my voice became hoarse. All the while, Nyx bellowed and roared and flapped his ugly black wings, scattering paintings and furniture all over Seth’s loft. It was so loud that I actually worried that the police might come, until I remembered the neighborhood, and let that worry go.

  Then, with an audible pop that actually hurt my ears, Nyx disappeared.