He found silly little rituals, spells, and even recipes for everything from prosperity to love potions. He was almost ready to give up when somewhere in the far reaches of his mind he heard the voice again and saw a picture of himself dressed as one of Hell’s warriors. How many times had he used powerful incantations, spells, and magick that would make this book look like a lot of pretentious hogwash?
And then it hit him.
They might have taken his powers, but they hadn’t taken his memory.
Now he was filled with hope.
He looked down at the book written for the novice, for bored housewives, for humans. No wonder it sounded so amateurish to him. The book in the hands of a practicing witch might work, but not on a grand, mind-boggling scale like he was used to. What would happen if he simply searched his memory for the right spell and tried it? Sure he might fail, but there was every chance that he would open Hell’s doors and bring Divinian to him.
He was about to slam the book closed when a picture fell out of it. He gasped when he saw a beautiful image of Sugar as she had looked when he left her. She was so beautiful with a few silky tendrils of her hair blowing across her face. When he saw the hot, sultry gaze she playfully gave the camera, he felt dread tear into his gut. Dear God, how he missed her.
After taking a few moments to drink in her beauty, he took the picture and put it in his pocket, knowing that if all the armies of Hell came against him for it, they would have to snatch it from his dead hands, because he would die before he would give it up.
Now, more determined than ever to find a way back to her, he went to work looking for the items he would need. As if by magic, there lay a feathered quill. He dipped it into his own blood and wrote the angel’s name on a sheet of paper and then cut out each letter and placed them in a container. Now he scrambled around looking for a calendar to see when the next new moon would be. At the witching hour, he had to go to a high, windy spot and throw the cut-out letters into the wind while turning in each direction and reciting the incantation.
Would it work?
Yes!
Again the answer came from inside his head, and somehow he knew it to be true. Without his powers, all he had left to him was the language of the gods, and he spoke that fluently. It was a language more powerful than any witch’s prayer, more commanding than any wizard’s magick, more controlling than even the gods. If it worked the way he expected, he would send a jolt into Hell that couldn’t be ignored.
* * * *
The days dragged by, but the nights were endless.
And then, on the night of the new moon, Judas began his vigil.
He stood high on the peak that was the Devil’s Doorway, where he could feel the sea spray, hear the thunder of the waves below, and feel the darkness of the night hugging him close like an amorous lover. As he threw the pieces of inscribed paper into the wind, Judas turned in each direction, the echo of the message urgent and distant as he lifted his voice.
“Oh, power of the North,
Oh, power of the South,
Oh, power of the East,
Oh, power of the West,
I am searching for Divinian, the mighty archangel of Hell. If he is within your realm, please send him to me now!”
His words echoed mightily, lifting ever upward, and sailed into the four corners of the world along with the tiny pieces of paper that resembled confetti. As they flew all around him, swirling and climbing high into the atmosphere, he repeated the incantation over and over again. Slowly Judas’s voice filled the tunnels of time until early morning.
When it was over, Judas walked back to the mansion, tired and exhausted. He lay on the makeshift pallet, listening to the voice of the high wind speak in shrilling tones as it carried his summons to the four corners of the world. His heavy eyelids slowly closed, the powerful, whipping wind rocking the old house as if it were a cradle.
The next morning spacious solitude met him in every room, and he had three days of it staring him in the face. He had to get out. He drank in taverns, ate in cafés, bought interesting little trinkets on Gypsy Reef that ended up in trash cans, and told lies to women who were interested.
The three days crawled by until finally it was over.
The next morning, while darkness still covered the earth, Judas climbed up to the Devil’s Doorway. A single step up, and then another. Higher and higher still, slipping on rocks and pebbles as he continued to climb. At last at the top, he stood silent and still, watching as the blue velvet of the sky slowly lightened to an orange glow on the horizon. With every passing second, the rays pierced the sky until the sun peeped out in one blinding moment. As usual, Judas had to hide his eyes from the sun’s brightness, but when he finally took his hands away, there stood Divinian.
He was a glorious sight.
His naked body stood against the horizon while bright streaks shot out from behind him as if they radiated from his body. He stood curled and resting, his head bowed and his eyes closed in sleep. This amazing picture reminded Judas of an artist’s rendering he’d seen somewhere of a fallen angel at rest.
“Divinian,” Judas whispered.
Slowly Divinian lifted his head. “Who calls me?”
“I do,” Judas said, stepping forward.
Divinian looked around. “Where am I?”
“At the top of Devil’s Doorway, where the four winds blow. It’s the place you dropped me off a few weeks ago.”
“Why am I here?”
“I summoned you.”
Divinian’s gaze came back and rested on Judas. “What do you want of me?”
“You know what I want, Divinian,” he said angrily. “I want to go back where I belong, not here, not forty years in the future.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I only followed his instructions.”
“They were his instructions, not mine.”
Divinian was silent for a moment and then looked at Judas. “You know I cannot do this.”
“Why? Because Satan won’t like it? What about me? I’m stranded here. Back there I have a life. Friends I want to be with again. I feel incomplete, empty. I also have a woman, Divinian, a woman I…” He was going to say love, but couldn’t, so he turned away, tears filling his eyes. “She died only days before I arrived here.” He turned back, the tears in his eyes glittering in the early morning light. “Satan knew this! He wanted to hurt me, Divinian. He thought it would make me return.”
“Then do it. Come back to Hell. Satan will forgive you.”
“And what makes you think I would forgive him? No, Divinian, I’ll never go back there. Look around. Isn’t the air just a little sweeter here? Can’t you breathe just a little deeper? Isn’t the terrain beautiful? Look at that sparkling ocean. What do you have back there but searing heat, lava lakes, soot storms, and crimson rain? Is it any wonder that I don’t want to go back?”
Divinian looked around at the beautiful earth. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stay.”
“Why?”
“Do you have to ask? Look at me, Judas. Back in Hell I’m the highest-ranking angel in the order, but here I’m only a freak. My wings don’t strap on as yours did, they’re permanent, and my height…” He paused for a moment, regret showing on his face, and then continued. “No, I’m afraid I couldn’t even consider it. Hell is my domain. It’s the only place I fit in.”
“Well, I don’t. I belong to this world, and I’m staying even if I have to remain in this time. If you refuse to take me back, you can tell Satan for me that it didn’t work. This is my home, and here is where I intend to stay.”
“You’re never going back, you say?”
Judas looked at Divinian curiously. “No, why?”
“Satan is your enemy. You’ll never see him or speak to him again?”
“Never.”
“Your woman…does she let you love her well? Is she warm, beautiful, and does her hair glisten as if the stars are hidden within her tresses?”
Judas cut his eyes toward D
ivinian. “Do you have a woman, Divinian?”
“Me? No…I mean, once, but,” his sad eyes moved toward Judas, “it was a long time ago. I probably shouldn’t do this, but if it’s true that you have severed all ties to Satan, then maybe I could take you back to her without him knowing.”
Judas’s eyes widened. “I swear by all that is holy—”
“Holy?” Divinian repeated, an eyebrow raised.
“Yes, holy.”
“I see,” Divinian said softly. “If that’s the way it is, I’m sure you won’t be seeing Satan again.” An easy smile lit up Divinian’s face as he said, “Come. I will see you safely home.”
“No tricks? I mean, I won’t wind up in Hell again, will I?”
“No, of course not. Now, if you will climb on, I believe the headwind into 2018 is just about right.”
Before taking off, Judas looked back, and in the far-off distance he could see Halfmoon Landing in the solemn early morning mist. The church bells had begun tolling out the hour, and although he couldn’t see them from where he was, he knew that in the graveyard beside the church two graves lay silent and still. Knowing that brought an ache to his heart. Age had crept upon the distressingly beautiful mansion and the old church, and he was thankful to be leaving. There was nothing left for him here.
He was going back to Sugar.
* * * *
The winds swirled with fury as Divinian shot upwards into the stratosphere to begin his search for the murky mists of the past. When he found them, he leveled off and headed into the mists of time that were riddled by bolts of lightning. Surging ahead, he finally approached the Time Tunnel, where his body zoomed so fast it could only be discerned as a streak of color to the naked eye. They immediately began to hear voices rise and fall from one year to the next. Divinian was flying along just fine when he looked up ahead and saw something blocking his way, and felt fear such as he’d never known rise up in him. Rainstorms, wind, and thunder began buffeting them about, almost shaking them out of the sky. He tried to slow down, to find a path around what he saw, but he was traveling so fast, and his massive wingspread was so wide, he couldn’t make a sharp turn without putting both him and Judas in danger. His huge wings caused a roiling in the atmosphere so powerful that he had no choice but to hurtle into the Time Tunnel and take his chances.
Chapter 30
2045…40…35…30…20…15…
The years hurtled by, one upon another, until he looked ahead and saw a solid wall of flame. There was no way through it or around it, and Divinian was forced to reduce his speed. While they kept their eyes on this fiery furnace, both saw Satan step forth from the midst of it. Fissures of lightning splintered the skies, blasts of thunder split the clouds, fireballs and waves of heat burst forth, caressing Satan’s body with tongues of flame.
“This is as far as you go, my wayward angel.”
“Oh no, he found out!” Divinian shouted.
“Of course I found out. You must think I’m an imbecile. I know everything that goes on in my realm and much beyond it. And now, you will both pay for your disobedience with your lives.” Satan lifted a hand that sizzled and popped. He pointed it toward Divinian, and his wings were ripped from his back.
“Argh!” the angel yelled as his body began to fall, spinning them haphazardly through the time stream.
While Judas held on to him desperately, he yelled, “God! If you are truly the God of this earth as I’ve been told, and if my soul, and others are sheltered in Your care, help us! We are falling…falli…fa…”
Judas’s voice faded as they fell toward the Earth, downward, downward, ever downward, mile after mile, plunging toward Earth as the furnace of flames from the skies above leapt hungrily out at them. Whipping in the wind was the sound of Satan’s evil laugh. Just when Judas began to think all was lost, their screaming minds were swamped with peace, and they were met with a clear sky and a large bird that sailed toward them. It quickly flew beneath them and carried them to the earth and set them down. As soon as his cargo was safe on the ground, the mighty bird flew swiftly upward until he was high enough to change from a bird to that of a large white angel.
“Did you see that?” Judas said and looked around to see Divinian staring upward in amazement. Judas’s eyes widened. The man standing before him was absent of wings and stood no taller than himself. He stepped closer and looked Divinian over, turning him one way and then the other.
“Divinian, look at yourself.”
Divinian looked down at his naked figure. He felt around on himself trying to find what was left of his wings. “There’s nothing there. Look at me. I’m no taller than you.”
“Do you realize what this means? Satan did you a favor by stripping you of your wings.”
“But I was tall, large.”
“You were that way because Satan created a race of giants, and you were an offspring. As long as you served Satan, you were deformed, but now that you no longer serve him, you’re normal.”
A wide smile appeared on Divinian’s face. “Then I can stay.” He looked around at the beauty that was Earth and then back at Judas. “I can, can’t I?”
Judas smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. With no wings, you have no way of leaving. But don’t worry. It’ll be a wonderful home for you. Come with me, and I’ll show you around myself.”
“Let’s hurry before Satan gets wise.”
Judas looked down at his nude body, and a small smile twitched along his lips. “I’m afraid not.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re naked.”
Divinian looked down at himself and then at Judas. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“Maybe not,” Judas replied, “but the people here wear clothes. No naked angels on Earth.”
“But I have no clothes. What’ll we do?”
“I’ll think of something,” Judas said as he looked around at the trees and brush, looking for something to cover Divinian. He grabbed at something similar to a string of fig leaves and gave them to Divinian. “Here, wrap this around you.” He then looked down the path toward the church, the only place he knew that might have what they needed. He wasn’t sure how Father Jon would receive him. Would he even remember?
Because of Satan’s interference, he knew they were way off their destination, but he wasn’t sure how many years it was. He looked longingly toward the mansion, not really knowing what kind of welcome he’d get after all this time. Would Sugar have another man in her life, maybe even be married? The thought weighed heavy on his heart. With sadness in his voice, he said to Divinian, “We need to get to the church.” He looked up at the sky. “It’s still early, so no one will be out and about, but to be safe, keep those leaves secure.”
The two men crept along the edge of the woods until Judas saw the old church looming in the distance. “We’re almost there,” he said, anxiety growing within him to see his old friend. “A few more steps and we can…”
He suddenly remembered the gravestone he’d seen and looked curiously toward the cemetery. When he’d seen the stone before, it had looked old even then. He was so overwrought he hadn’t noticed the dates, so he didn’t know when Father Jon had died.
“You stay here,” he said to Divinian and quickly darted out of the woods and ran toward the cemetery. Crouching in the early morning mist, he hurried to the area where he had seen the grave, but nothing was there, nothing but grass and dirt. With a wave of his arm, he signaled for Divinian to follow him.
* * * *
Father Jon looked down at the bottle of Sprite clutched tightly in his hand and thought again of his ordeal five years ago. It was the only thing he allowed himself to drink now. No more wine. He still believed it had been drugged or that he’d simply had too much. His memories of Lupercus were large and vivid, but had he ever known anyone named Judas?
Since he’d returned to the church, to familiar surroundings, the whole experience seemed like a dream. With affection, he recalled the dream of a blond-haired�
��he wasn’t sure what. Was it a demon or an angel who had touched the cross on his Bible and gotten burned, a demon or angel who had entered into the faith one night on a dark beach?
No, it was too ridiculous to be real. All of it, especially his trip to Hell.
He lifted the bottle, looked at it, and took another swig. He should have known that one day the wine he loved so much would send him off on a tangent unlike any he’d ever experienced. Well, it was over now, and he could continue pretending that he was holy while saying evening prayers, lighting candles, and watching over a parish that thought he could walk on water.
He shivered, knowing that if his trip to Hell hadn’t been some imaginary journey from out of a wine bottle, then it must have been real. Not merely a place you go to when you die, but another world, a world as real this one. And if Hell was real, then so was heaven. He’d always seen heaven as some pie-in-the-sky, happy-ever-after place, but now he knew that it, too, was a very real world.
He thought again of Judas.
Even though he professed to be from Hell, he saw in him a certain innocence he wished he still had. He snorted at the memory. That alone should tell him that the whole thing was nothing more than a wisp of smoke. When you think about it, how could a man from Hell appreciate the earth the way he did? It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t forget the look in Judas’s eyes when he talked about this world, and it humbled him to see him appreciate the things he himself had taken for granted.
One thing bothered him.
If Judas hadn’t been real, then why did he keep looking for him in every face he saw? Why did he hope and pray that one day—suddenly a sob escaped his throat and he knew. If he didn’t come back, it was because he was dead.
Just then his head turned sharply at a series of sounds. The scraping of a door, footsteps, whispers, and then a voice calling out.
“Father Jon, where are you?”
He scowled, lifted the Sprite, and looked at the liquid contents as if he thought the voice might be coming from inside the bottle.
Sugar and Spice Page 21