I Am Satan (Hellbound Trilogy Book 2)

by Tim Hawken

  “I am ready to die,” I said with conviction.

  “That wasn’t my question. I asked if you are ready for others to die. Are you ready for Mary to die? Judas to die? Smithy to die? Your wife to be ripped apart before your eyes? Truly?”

  “That’s not a decision for him to make,” Mary cut in. “I am ready. We will only lead those to battle who are willing!”

  “Will you?” he asked. “Most of the wars I have seen have been waged with a mentality that you are either with us or you are against us. That is false logic. You can be neutral. How will you treat those who are neutral?”

  “How will Asmodeus treat them?” I replied hotly. “He won’t let souls in Heaven sit idly by. He will make them take up arms.”

  “He won’t have to force them, Michael,” Zoroaster said, adjusting his legs on his cushion. “Every soul in Heaven is obedient to His will over everything else. They believe in him, in his goodness. By attacking the gates of their realm you are forcing them to fight you. They will not remain passive. Every last soul in Paradise will fight to defend what they have. That brings a ferocity you cannot anticipate. However, yet again you have diverted from answering the real question. Will the people in your new joined realm of Hell and Purgatory have a choice when it comes to battle?”

  “I will give them the freedom to choose,” I answered truthfully. “I will do all I can to persuade them, but in the end, the choice is theirs to fight or not.”

  “You give them a bitter choice,” he said softly. “If you pull down the barrier which separates Purgatory from Hell, then the Fires of Guilt will rise up into this realm. The dominant characteristics of Damnation will envelope this place. The landscape may remain mostly intact, but in essence all that constricts those in Hell will constrict the souls here as well. You would invite them to feel the same torment as you, and then ask them if they would like to stay, or go to a better place? That is not a truthful choice at all.”

  “Then what would you have me do?” I snapped at him, frustration bursting from me. I got to my feet. Zoroaster remained calm and seated.

  “Sit down, Michael, please,” Mary pleaded.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked Zoroaster, still standing.

  “I told you from the beginning. I want the truth. I think you are basically heading in the right direction, but may be heading there for the wrong reasons. I have looked inside both you and Mary and seen secrets inside. You must both reveal exactly what it is you’re hiding before we can come to the correct action.”

  I was shaking with rage. I looked down at Mary, but she avoided my eyes. Zoroaster stared up at me from his crossed legged position.

  “Tell me, Michael,” he said slowly. “Why are you really here?”

  “I’ve told you why I’m here,” I seethed through gritted teeth, doing my best to remain calm.

  “Please. I can see you hold a lot of anger inside you. Sit.”

  I forced myself to sit down. The action helped to settle me a touch.

  “Please,” Zoroaster said again. “I am no enemy of yours. I am simply trying to locate the honest truth. Now look inside yourself and ask, what are my motivations? Why do I truly want to bring down this wall of Purgatory? As great as all of the effects are - stepping towards freedom, equality, justice, truth – what is the thing you look forward to most once the walls come down?”

  Guilt smothered my anger. If I asked myself that question, truly, I was ashamed at how selfish the response was. I wasn’t the leader I wanted to be. I wasn’t a fighter for freedom.

  “I will get to see my wife, Charlotte,” I said, hanging my head.

  Zoroaster tipped his head in acceptance. My stomach churned with emotion.

  “That is not an evil motivation,” he said. “It is all I wanted to hear: the truth. You are human after all, and it makes me want to help you more, not less. That is the real issue I have with Asmodeus. He can sit behind his ideals and justify the greatness of his actions, which are indeed great. However, in the end he does not admit his imperfections. He lies to himself and so he lies to others. It is a hypocrisy, which I cannot reconcile. I promise to help you, Michael.”

  I looked up to him in disbelief.

  “But,” he continued, “only after you go to see your wife here in Purgatory. Knowing that once your first motivation has been fulfilled, you must come back to me and honestly say you’re still willing to risk your happiness and the happiness of others to pursue an ideal you say you hold. Her name is Charlotte? I know of one particularly fine young woman who has said her husband’s name was Michael. She has been helping at my school. She should be at Veritas Splendor right now, teaching the children’s class.”

  The cloud of shame that swirled in me lifted into hope.

  “Charlotte St. Claire?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  My spirits soared. I couldn’t believe it. In admitting my hidden motivation to Zoroaster I hadn’t been condemned. I had been rewarded. I was to see Charlotte! I jumped to my feet, ready to rush from the room to see my wife.

  “Wait!” Zoroaster commanded. “First we must hear Mary’s confessions.”

  I looked to Mary, torn. I wanted to run out of the door then and there. The look on her face made me freeze in my tracks. She seemed terrified and wouldn’t look either of us in the eye.

  “The chaos inside her is darker than even yours,” Zoroaster said grimly. “It’s better she tell two people what she is hiding, rather than just one. The greater the lie inside, the more people who should bear the truth of it.”

  A brick of doubt formed in my chest. Had she betrayed us somehow? Was she helping Asmodeus? Had she delivered us into his evil hands?

  “Mary?” I said. “What have you done?”

  She looked up at me and burst into tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Michael. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Knots of tension gripped my body. I looked to Zoroaster, who sat there, calm as ever. I braced myself to hear the most horrible acts of evil.

  Mary looked to Zoroaster in despair.

  “Please, Mary,” he said. “Let out your secret.”

  “What have you done Mary?” I shouted.

  She looked up as me with glassy eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  TEN

  I WAS ROCKED. The brick of doubt that had hung in my chest grew into a heavier boulder of tension. My stomach felt hollow. My fingers twitched.

  “What?” I managed to say softly.

  “I love you, Michael. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. That was the real reason I fell at the Chinvar Bridge. My mind wasn’t just on Judas, it was on you.”

  I slowly sat back down, staring into space, trying to make my mind work. This was completely unexpected. Mary was my friend. She was a fellow fighter. This couldn’t be happening. Mary cried softly next to me, but said nothing more. Zoroaster adjusted his legs.

  I reached out and took Mary by the hand. She hung her head, looking down into her lap.

  “Mary,” I said, still not able to look at her directly. “You’re like a sister to me. I’m in love with Charlotte, and only Charlotte. I love you too, but not in a way that could ever see us together.”

  “I know. I know,” she said softly, cutting back her tears. She raised her head and met my eyes. “I don’t expect you to change anything for me. I know your soul is for another. That is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want this. It just happened.”

  “How?” was all I could ask, looking at her.

  “I don’t know.” She let my hand drop out of hers and stared away again. “Maybe it was you saving Judas. Maybe it’s the conviction I see you have for Charlotte. I want someone to feel the same for me and I know you have that inside you. You’re kind. You work towards what you believe. I know that none of this is reasonable, but love isn’t reasonable sometimes. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Yes you should,” Zoroaster interrupted quietly. “G
ood people hold onto lies because they think if they tell the truth it will cause chaos. Like now, the truth can create disorder for a short while, but the outward chaos only matches the struggle you held within yourself. As realities are revealed a balance is met and things settle. You have released that uncertainly from within you, Mary. Things will find a balance, I promise. You have met the truth, and all that can come from this is eventual harmony.”

  I heard Zoroaster’s words, but I couldn’t agree with them. I wished Mary had kept this truth to herself. I wasn’t angry at her; I couldn’t be. I was upset that Zoroaster had forced her to say something when she knew better. I couldn’t see how good could come of this. I wanted to get up and leave to go to Charlotte. I wanted to run away, but I knew I couldn’t. Mary deserved more than for me to up and desert her when she had just poured her heart out. She was still a friend, after all.

  I looked into Mary’s tearful eyes and took her hand again.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mary. What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s enough that you know the truth. I want you to be happy and I know you’re happy with Charlotte. Go to her, please. You deserve her love. Just don’t forget us when you see her. Don’t forget our cause, our fight. There is more to this than just love. This is about freedom for every soul that suffers in the world. We have to continue, regardless of our personal struggles. I believe that, and I hope you do too.”

  Her emerald eyes blazed with passion as she said the last words. I nodded. I squeezed her hand one last time and got up. It was time to see my wife.

  ELEVEN

  I EMERGED FROM ZOROASTER’S HOUSE onto the street. Before I rushed headlong down to Veritas Splendor, I was careful to take note on exactly where I was: three houses downhill from a daffodil colored shack on 8th Avenue.

  Moving down the street, I half walked, half jogged. I didn’t want to fall over myself to get there. I was excited, but nervous at the same time. Mary’s revelation had also tempered my enthusiasm. She was back there, sitting in tears and confusion with Zoroaster. I hoped he might be able to talk some sense into her. It seemed to me that all he spoke were theoretical philosophies, not things that would work in the real world. A knot still clutched at my chest. Whether it was apprehension at seeing Charlotte or worry for Mary, I wasn’t sure.

  I pulled my hair back and tucked it into my shirt, but then remembered my ears. I pulled it back out again and let the black curls spill around my shoulders. Dare I smile when I see her and reveal my wolf teeth? I needed her to love me. If she rejected me for some reason, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

  There were still a lot of people walking along the pavement, but I didn’t register their presence. I pressed ahead, through the blur of bystanders. I almost knocked someone down and realized I was running. I forced myself to slow down. I didn’t want to explode into the classroom, puffing and panting. The school appeared in sight down the street. I could see souls standing and talking out front. Searching their faces, I saw none of them were Lotte. Without pausing I pushed past, up the path toward the building. My heart was hammering so hard in my chest I thought it might bruise my ribs. My hands were trembling uncontrollably. I came to the entrance of the school where the wide windows lined the front.

  Peering through the window, I saw her. An angel. It really was my perfect Charlotte. I stood there transfixed, watching her through the glass. She was laughing and smiling, talking to a group of children who sat on the ground crossed legged in front of her. She wore a white cotton dress with black buttons that went from the neck of her dress down to the hem at her knees. Her stunning blue eyes shone like sapphires. Lotte tucked her blonde hair over her ears then started clapping her hands, singing a song. I knew the tune. It was called Baby Bumble Bee. She used to sing it to the kids at the hospital she worked at. I mouthed the words as she sung.

  I caught a baby bumble bee, won’t my mommy be so proud of me.

  Once the song was finished, the children all laughed. I wanted to walk inside but I was glued to the spot. I couldn’t make my feet work. With tears clouding my vision, I brought a shaking hand up and tapped lightly on the window. I was crying so hard I couldn’t see. I wiped the tears from my face to see if she’d noticed. Everyone in the room was looking up to me. I didn’t see any of the children’s faces; all I saw was Charlotte. Her mouth was open in shock.

  “Michael?”

  The words didn’t reach me, but I could see them on her lips.

  She looked down at the children and then back up at me. I waved at her foolishly. I didn’t know what else to do.

  Lotte held her hands out to the children, motioning for them to stay seated then, almost tripping, she ran around them towards the doors. I moved quickly to greet her. We collided into a fierce embrace. Her momentum was so much that I fell backward to the ground. She was crying. Lotte buried her face in my chest as I held her tight against me. There were no words to express the flood of emotion pouring out of me; I simply wrapped her in my arms tightly and squeezed.

  “I knew you’d come, I knew you’d find me,” she cried into me over and over again. “I knew you’d come.”

  I held her in silence, my heart smiling. I rested my chin on top of her head while I hugged her. It was as though the sun had risen over my world again. I could have stayed like that forever, basking in her warmth. She loosened her hug and I pulled back to look in her crystal eyes. They were filled with love and relief. She buried her head back into my chest with renewed sobs.

  “I was so worried, Michael. Oh, Michael!”

  Holding her tight, I cried with her. Right now, nothing needed to be said. It was just enough that we were together again.

  “Miss Charlotte?” a child’s voice said next to me. “Are you okay?”

  I looked up to see that the whole class had come out of the door and was standing in a circle around us. One taller boy had stepped forward.

  “Is this man hurting you, Miss Charlotte?” he said bravely.

  Lotte pushed away from me softly at the noise. Brushing the tears from her face frantically, she looked to the children. She was straddled on top of me, her knees either side of my stomach. She looked from the children to me and then back to the children again.

  “No, David,” she said, smiling at him with tear-glazed eyes. “This is my husband, Michael. We thought we had lost each other, and I’m happy to see him again.”

  “But you’re crying.” he said, in an Irish accent.

  “My mum said it’s okay to cry if you’re sad or if you’re happy,” a girl said to him.

  The boy looked down to me with some doubt, but stepped back.

  “It’s okay, David, really.” Charlotte said.

  She looked back down at me and beamed. She leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. I tried to pull her back in to a hug but she resisted gracefully. Pushing my chest down playfully, she climbed off me back to her feet. I got up quickly, not wanting to move even an inch from her side. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it lightly.

  “Now, children,” she said. “Please go back inside and play sleeping lions. I’m going to talk with my husband, but I will be watching from out here. Remember you have to keep as still as you can and keep your eyes closed. No cheating!”

  With grins on their faces, the children obeyed Charlotte and skipped back inside. Some were whispering to each other, sneaking looks back at us as they started to lie on the floor and pretend to be asleep.

  Charlotte watched as they went inside, but reached out and took my other hand without looking. We stood hands clasped. She watched the children, but I only had eyes for her. I studied her skin, her hair, her eyelashes. This was no illusion. It was my love.

  Once she was satisfied the children were settled, Lotte turned her head back to mine. She leaned in and kissed me deeply. The Perceptionist had taught me that thought and emotion were elemental twins. I understood now that my wife and I were also twins. We were two souls that found context in each
other. Without the other at our side we were just fragments of a greater whole. She pulled out of the kiss.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” she said with wide eyes, looking me up and down. “What happened? Your hair? What…”

  “It’s a long and complicated story,” I said, rubbing my head.

  “I was so scared. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, in Heaven, or Hell, or…”

  “That can wait,” I said, stopping her short. “What about you? Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened when you died? What happened when you came here?”

  Her eyes flickered in pain. She held my hands again and looked me deep in the eyes.

  “It was horrible, Michael.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “You were there; you saw what they did to me. Those monsters. I couldn’t stop them. That is the last memory of my life, that brutality.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and continued. “I woke up here in Purgatory, that final memory of my life still lingering in my brain. It wasn’t what had happened to me that hurt me most though, Michael. It was not knowing what had happened to you; not knowing why. I was alone in the grey fields away from the city. I could see it far in the distance. I walked and Zoroaster was there to greet me, at the edge of the city in the wood where people come out of The Far Reaches. He helped calm me. He explained to me that I was indeed dead and that there was an afterlife. I was in Purgatory. I had so many questions, Michael, but he couldn’t answer them. He told me as much truth as he could, but all I wanted to know was about what happened to you. Zoroaster explained that just as Earth has no real knowledge of the afterlife, Purgatory is blocked off from the other realms.”

  “You cannot see Earth like we can in Hell?” I asked, shocked. I had never taken up the option because I had no interest in a world without Charlotte, but souls in Hell were able to watch the drama of the living unfold if they so desired.