by Tim Hawken
One of the larger beasts barked a high-pitched noise, which sounded like an animal being slaughtered. As if it was a signal, they all crouched in unison, preparing to attack. I acted quickly. Using the elements, I shot a ball of flame at the one who had made the noise. Impossibly, the flame passed right through it.
The creature howled and all the demon dogs joined in. I shuddered at the noise. Fire had been like air to it. How was I supposed to defend myself?
The first of the creatures leapt at me. Desperately I formed a wall of air about myself, expanding it quickly into a solid barrier. The dog smashed into it head first, snarling and snapping. It fell to the ground, but quickly scrambled back to its feet. The others rushed forward as well, barking. I pushed my cocoon outward, to give me some room. The diabolical things endlessly clawed and howled; some of them jumped onto the roof of my barrier, scraping, trying to find a way in. I was surrounded. All around and above me the dogs prowled. I tried to think quickly what I could do next. I couldn’t sit there forever. I needed to get through and find The Perceptionist.
Despite my power, these wicked things terrified me. Any one of them looked as though it could rip me to pieces given the chance.
Tear me apart?
It was then that I remembered. It had been something I had tried to forget: the true murder of Gideon’s soul in revenge for his part in Charlotte’s death. In the end it had been impossible to block out. I could still see myself controlled by rage, ripping his being to shreds with my hatred, extinguishing his light. I’d literally torn apart the elements that made up his soul. I could do the same to these creatures. I looked at them, reluctant. Hideous as they were, it was still hard to kill something, knowing with certainty that there would be no second life for them. But what did that matter to me? They were just animals. This is survival, I reasoned.
I pulled anger around me. The black molecules of death surrounded my being. Looking at the closest dog, I unleashed malice upon it, trying to force myself within its life force. The torrent collided with its soul and exploded in a dazzling shower of sparks. I closed my eyes to shield them from the searing light. Opening them again, I looked: the dog was still there. It was unmoved, still snarling at the barrier of air around me. This was unthinkable. Why had it not been destroyed?
The pack leader howled again, a long and putrid wail. Abruptly, all of the dogs fell silent. The alpha male stalked around my circle, sniffing at the cocoon of air. It stopped in front of me and began scratching. Suddenly, one of its claws pricked through inside. I was aghast. I changed my perception to view the elements. The dog had moved them! It kept scratching frantically and the hole grew bigger. I threw more elements to replace it. The dog howled again and the pack joined in, hundreds of them scratching, above my head, all around. I rebuilt the holes as quickly as I could, but there were too many. They were breaking through!
One of the creatures snarled in triumph as its head wiggled inside my safety zone. It snapped at me, barely missing my arm. Their howls filled my ears. Was this how it would end: mauled to pieces by a pack of savage demons in the depths of Hell? Another head broke through, then another. The howls grew to a fever pitch.
I closed my eyes and prepared to be consumed bite by bite. No bite came. I opened my eyes to see the animals writhing on the ground and buildings around me, squealing in apparent agony. Then I saw it: the fires of guilt rumbling over the sky towards us. The maelstrom hit me like a wall.
THREE
“WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? Why did you leave me to Satan?” Charlotte implored with sadness in her eyes. Her glorious beauty was tempered by her suffering.
“I tried to save you.” I sobbed. “I’m sorry!”
The guilt of not being good enough to save my wife crushed me. I couldn’t bear to exist. I was worthless.
“Yes, you are worthless,” Charlotte hissed at me. Her loving blue eyes turned cold. “You love yourself more than me. You love your anger and your hate and your revenge too much to save me.”
“No,” I cried. How could my Lotte say those things?
She was right though. I was nothing.
She turned and walked into burning flames.
Flames. Flames consumed me. Heat boiled and churned around me. Smoke filled my lungs. I was in Hell.
I was in Hell! I opened my eyes to behold the streets of Satan’s Demise. The fires of a guilty sky churned, smothering everything. Satan had made me immune to The Guilt, which was visited upon the souls of Hell six times each day, to remind them what they had done to be damned. Now that he had left me, The Guilt was beginning to affect me again. I looked to the devil dogs scattered about me, yelping in pain. The Guilt hadn’t taken as strong of a hold on me as it had these creatures, yet. I took my chance: I began to quickly pick my way through their squirming bodies, trying to get clear of the pack. There were so many of them. As I got closer to the edge of them I started to run. I could see the spell of the Guilty Fires beginning to wear off. I heard a bark behind me as one rolled onto its talon-feet, shaking its head. It looked up at me and howled. They all began to howl again. I was about to take to the air and leave Satan’s Demise, when a black figure stepped out from the shadows in front of me.
“Get behind me,” it commanded.
“Marlowe?” I yelled, skidding to a stop. I was confused, but relieved to see The Perceptionist’s bodyguard.
“Get behind me, Michael!” Marlowe repeated as he walked backward down an alley, eyeing the grouping hellhounds. I moved in behind my old friend and realized that we were in The Perceptionist’s alley with the yellow door at the end. The dogs scraped towards us, but all stopped at the foot of the laneway we had entered.
“What are those things?” I asked.
“They’re the evil animal souls of the world, which are now the scavengers of Hell. We call them Barghest.”
“Evil animals?” I asked, confused. “How can animals be evil?”
“God deems them evil because they only follow their instincts and do not create good. That is their only crime. Some smart animals, like cats or dolphins, have the capacity for good and may sometimes go the Heaven. For the most part, though, only sheep are allowed in the hallowed place.”
“Sheep?”
“They follow blindly.” Marlowe smiled grimly. “They’re like angels.”
The Barghest at the head of the alleyway began to wail again.
“How do you stop them?” I asked.
“Cold water,” Marlowe said. “They hate it. But The Perceptionist prefers to leave them alone. Barghests are basically harmless, and they help keep away unwanted guests. Quick, let’s go inside.”
He opened the yellow door and stepped into The Perceptionist’s antechamber. I tore my sight from the evil things which had almost destroyed me, and followed Marlowe inside.
It was time to see the most powerful being in existence, equal to Asmodeus. The Perceptionist would have the answers I needed.
FOUR
MARLOWE LED ME INTO A GREY ROOM with a dining table and chairs set in the center. In the far right hand corner a man sat mumbling to himself. He rocked back and forth holding his knees to his chest.
“You remember Germaine?” Marlowe asked, indicating the man in the corner.
“I do.” I recalled that this man was once an apprentice of The Perceptionist, but had lost his mind. He was a symbol. Power is nothing without control.
“Please, sit down.” Marlowe smiled, pulling out one of the seats for me.
I sat down on the creaky chair.
“You’d think one of the most powerful beings in the universe could manifest himself some better furniture, wouldn’t you?” I said, trying to break the tense mood which had followed us in from the street.
“Always the joker,” Marlowe laughed, “even when you’ve come for serious reasons.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “People don’t come seeking an audience here without good cause. I need to see him. I need to finish what we started.”
“Your training.�
� It wasn’t a question. “I knew you’d be back at some point. I just thought it might be on better terms,” Marlowe said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked slowly.
I had told him nothing, but maybe The Perceptionist knew I was here to further my revenge.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” asked Marlowe, standing up. He walked over to a bench in the corner and picked up a small silver cooking pot. He handed it to me, indicating that I look at myself.
I peered into the grubby silver to behold my distorted reflection. Despite the curves throwing out all proportion, it was clear my face wasn’t exactly as it used to be. My ears were growing into points. With my spare hand I reached up and touched them. Hair was growing from the fine end. I would have looked like an elf, except for the color. They were red. I bared my teeth. I was growing incisors like a wolf. How had I not felt this? Was I so wrapped up in my thoughts that this metamorphosis had escaped my notice?
“What’s happening to me?” I asked, startled.
“You’re becoming a demon. It’s early stages, Michael, but it appears you’re going to be a revenge demon. Is this quest of yours becoming an obsession? Is it consuming your every waking thought?”
Becoming an obsession? I asked myself. The answer was clear. It was all I wanted. All I needed.
“How long will it take?” I asked.
“It depends,” Marlowe replied. “It’s different for everyone. The ears and teeth go first. Then the hands, but it’s still early. Are you thinking of revenge a lot?”
“Yes,” I answered plainly.
“If that is your sole purpose the change could take just months.”
“It’s been a year already,” I said, thinking of my time in the room of Satan’s building, stewing on what I would do to my enemy when I met him next.
“Then it’s not your sole thought. Not yet anyway. What’s your reason for wanting revenge?”
“I want to kill the one who took my love from me,” I answered.
“Ahhh.” He nodded, looking me in the eyes. “So this is why you came last time. And you failed. That’s why you haven’t been consumed quickly. If you’re still thinking of her, and it’s the true reason for your hatred, then the love is counterbalancing. You are more about vengeance than plain revenge. You want justice, not selfish retribution. If love is the driver and you’re trying to right a wrong, then you won’t change quickly, if at all. It’s only when the need to kill to even a score outweighs your thoughts of love for her that you’ll truly be consumed. Where is she? When was the last time you saw her or thought of her?”
I sank my hands into my head. I couldn’t bear to picture that pretty face and innocent soul. Charlotte was sitting in Limbo, held there to spite me.
“She’s in Limbo. I need to save her. That’s my true goal. Revenge will be mine, but her salvation is still my greatest purpose.”
“Better that she waits in the middle realms of Purgatory than suffering in Hell,” Marlowe said sincerely. “Maybe I can help you.”
A noise of chirping birds came from across the room. We both looked over to behold a being covered in eyes. Its head was thrown back in laughter. The sound of birds chirping was The Perceptionist’s way of showing his joy. The tweeting cut short and a thousand eyes bored into me.
“You will not help him Marlowe,” The Perceptionist said in a whisper that filled the room. “It is not our place to interfere. He wants a revenge that he cannot possibly attain. He wants to kill God.”
Marlowe looked at me, bug-eyed, as if I’d fully transformed into a hideous demon right then and there.
“Have you lost your mind?” asked Marlowe, shocked. “Every demon down here toys with the idea of getting revenge against He who has forsaken us. But no one except Satan himself takes it seriously.”
It was my turn to laugh, but there was no joy in it.
“So no one takes it seriously,” I spat. “Unless God is thinking about suicide.”
The Perceptionist tweeted again, obviously amused. Marlowe sat looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“I’ll explain later,” The Perceptionist cut in. “For now Michael and I need to discuss some more pressing matters.” He waved his hand and a shimmering blue portal opened in front of him. “Come,” he said in his rasping whisper, and disappeared into the swirling hole.
Nodding a goodbye for now at Marlowe, I stepped into the icy abyss which led to The Void.
FIVE
I PUSHED THROUGH the freezing thickness of the gateway. The cold flowed over my body like liquid ice. Eyes closed tightly, I stumbled through the layer and then, without warning, emerged into nothingness. An unbearable lightness of being enveloped me. I was in The Void, a place The Perceptionist had created for reflection and learning. It was a true vacuum where nothing existed: no space, no time, just what The Perceptionist had brought here.
I opened my eyes and gazed around. Tiny swirling elements floated above my head and below my feet; thousands of lights twinkled their microscopic glow. When I had first come to this place I hadn’t been able to see the elements, only the void that surrounded. The Perceptionist had taught me not only to see, but also to control these molecules of life.
“The Void is still the same.” The Perceptionist’s voice rang out. I could not see him anywhere. It was just me and the elements.
“But we have both changed, Michael,” the whisper continued. “Your soul is transforming into that of a demon, obsessed with revenge. I have also undergone a transmutation.”
Slowly, the points of lights started to take form in front of me and began to manifest into a solid body, arms and legs. The Perceptionist was bringing himself into view with will, knitting each atom together to make his corporeal shell.
I looked closely at The Perceptionist. At first the appeared the same as he always had, but then I began to notice slight differences. Rather than the five eyes he normally had on his face, arranged as you would see them on the side of a dice, he had eight eyes forming a perfect circle of blinking orbs. In the center of his face was his small slit for a mouth, but no nose, no ears, no hair. The rest of his body looked the same as before, covered in eyes every color of the rainbow. All of them moved, looking around at the elements.
“You have three new eyes,” I commented.
“Indeed,” he replied. “I grew them on purpose to enhance my senses. They were my choice, just as your soul changing is your choice.”
“I did not choose to become a demon!”
“All of life is choice,” replied The Perceptionist calmly. “Your thoughts are slowly becoming dominated by the destruction of Asmodeus, instead of the recovery of your Charlotte. The love inside you was a redeemer before, but it is fading.”
“My love for Charlotte has not changed! I love her with all of my heart. I would do anything for her.”
The rage, which I barely kept in check at each waking moment, was hissing to the surface. I hoped I could maintain reason while in the presence of The Perceptionist. If I provoked him, he could easily snuff out my life.
“Yes, you would do anything for her,” he continued. “But you start to think of her less and destroying Him more. If you let that loving part of you go, the demon inside will rule you. When I see your elements, they wrestle with each other. The dirty side is very slowly taking over the joyous side. Of course it’s not too late, Michael, your love is still strong. You need to make the decision to focus on one instead of the other.”
I quelled my fury, picturing my wife’s innocent beauty in my mind’s eye. It was always Charlotte who had been my motivation, ever since we met. There was no way I would forsake her over the murder of Asmodeus.
“We both know your first choice will be always Charlotte,” The Perceptionist whispered softly. “The concern is what you do after you see her. If you’re allowed to rescue her, will you still want to kill Asmodeus out of spite for past wrongs?”
He left the question hanging in the air, like the elements which floated between us.
“Until I kill him, we will have no freedom.”
“That is an interesting thought, Michael. But do you mean freedom for all, or justice for yourselves? Even if killing Asmodeus and freeing the universe from his grip is the right thing to do, you pursue this aim for the wrong reasons. However, I’m talking a philosophy I do not believe in. It’s not my place to interfere in things that do not concern me, and you are not here for a lecture. You are here for your training, for power.”
I started to interrupt, but he held up an eye-covered palm and silenced me.
“Unfortunately we are not the only two things which have changed, Michael. I know that when we parted ways last, I promised that I would teach you the rest of the elemental gifts. I always keep my promises, and in time you will be as strong as me. However, since Asmodeus has reunited his soul and left for Heaven there has been a shift. It is no longer quite as simple to weave the elements of thought, emotion and intellect to create life. It appears he has built another barrier between the life-blocks and the rest of the elements. They are difficult to bond together.”
To illustrate his point The Perceptionist drew two of the more delicate molecules in the air towards himself. He pushed them together, but instead of sticking as they normally would they squashed flat then bounced outward, apart from each other. They sprang away, like two tiny rubber balls.
“It’s genius really.” The Perceptionist tweeted a laugh. “God has reaffirmed his monopoly on creation.”
“But I just saw you bond your own body together a moment ago,” I said.
“You are very observant, Michael,” The Perceptionist replied. “But what you saw wasn’t actual creation from scratch. It was a reconstruction from memory. There is a difference. Just as there is a difference between creating intelligent life and basic life. I can still create a being without intellect, as can you. However, you’re not looking to create, Michael, you are wanting to destroy.”