Unless of course, Mesmerath had been poisoned, or shot from a great distance or some enemy of his had come up with a really elaborate way of inconveniencing him, without it being face to face. Crimes of passion here are very easy to solve as they’re up close and gruesomely personal. Meticulous planning, takes time to unravel, and Satan knows; we have plenty of time for demons to sit and make plans.
So, Beelzebub showing an interest, meant there was something deeper involved. Something political. Fuck it. I hate politics.
Why in Satan’s name did Beelzebub care about who killed a mere Genius like Mesmerath?
Not that it really mattered who killed him: we’d find someone to punish. Mesmerath would name someone, anyone. Evidence didn’t come into it. It’s not like there would be a trial: only accusation and punishment, ‘innocence’ not being a concept generally understood here. The accused killer would be subjected to some of the more exquisite tortures for a few months – however long Mesmerath wanted to pay for – and then they’d be released. You can guess the number of vendettas, alliances and plots seeking revenge, spawned over the last couple of hundred years alone. But that is nothing to the bad old days.
Soon after the Fall, it was chaos here.
We found ourselves cast from Heaven, in this place and blaming Satan. He’d promised us...I honestly don’t remember what he promised us...I remember that I loved him.
Whatever his promises, we got Hell and the endless boredom of punishing humans. Once you’ve impaled, roasted, fucked, scalded and eaten a few of them - it’s so boring!
It may be better for Satan to rule in Hell, than serve in Heaven; but there were plenty who would like to change that. There were plots and intrigues and Satan decided he’d rest more easily if someone was keeping an eye on everyone else. Enter me: Zizuph, Genius of Mysteries. I created the Security Squadron, the SS, as a personal body guard for him. Then I extended our role and size of organisation to protect the State: in Satan’s mind one and the same thing.
The arrival of the half-breeds brought a whole new dimension to Hell and my work. Originally, there were supposed to be just two races in Hell: the Fallen and the Damned. Guess what happened next? Demons found a new way to torture women. Making them bear the progeny of Demon and Human is a punishment in itself. Ask Rosemary. This being Hell, we soon worked out how men could give birth too and how to extract their seed in burning, painful orgasms.
So we got half-breeds. We put them to use, of course. Many of them work for the Security Squadron. Though they don’t last long. Their lifespan is about seventy to eighty years. Best not to care for these pets too much, as they soon die.
Half-breed begat half-breed and so ad infinitum. Except we cull them. It’s a hunt. Once a year, to celebrate a time which mortals associate with snow and over indulgence - we thin the numbers. Then we roast the carcasses and become bloated and fall asleep. It’s very festive.
It must be terrifying for them. They certainly scream loudly enough. I think that saddens me.
The reason for the culling is simple. Satan realised that if the Fallen could have a half-breed child, they might eventually sire a loyal army. What keeps me awake at night, is the effect of the hunt over the millennia. The weak perish. The strong survive. We’re effectively breeding a stronger race of half-breed. I would pray, if there were any point; that they don’t realise, as even with the cull they outnumber us, three to one.
***
We arrived at the entrance to the mansion. I’d not been here before. Around the door there were cages, large enough to take the Damned and half-breed of all ages. I guessed that three quarters were still alive. Those at the base were covered with the shit of those above. All of them were diseased and many had livid sores on their faces and body. Mesmerath must have had the half-breed replaced every so often, to keep his display fresh.
Hands, claws, fins and stumps reached out, grasping, pleading for release. I smiled at them, then stopped Jezereth before we entered.
“Wait a moment. Anything on those two runaways?”
He checked his phone. “Not yet, no, Commander.”
“I want to know as soon as you hear anything. Stay here.”
Jezereth winced. He’d obviously wanted an opportunity to at least observe Lord Beelzebub up close. Knowing Beelzebub, taking a half-breed like Jezereth inside the mansion and into his presence, wasn’t sensible.
Mesmerath had decorated his mansion in the English Gothic style and entering the main hall, I was glad Jezereth couldn’t see this. There were heads on the walls; the stuffed heads of half-breeds.
Prince Beelzebub stood amongst a mess of pus, blood, bones and gore spread around the whole of the hall, which must be the deceased Mesmerath. Whoever had done this had spent some time at his or their task. I suspected there was more than one assailant, as Mesmerath was all over the place. The effect was the aftermath of an explosion. I couldn’t see who would have persuaded him to swallow a bomb. Unless he was unconscious or held, and they’d used a long stick a la foie gras.
Beelzebub was dressed in a black coat, which touched the floor. His blue black hair swept back from a widow’s peak, above a dark face with bulging multi-faceted eyes.
“Ah, Commander Zizzuph,” he said. “Do you have any ideazz?”
Pretentious bastard, everyone knows he’s ‘Lord of the Flies.’ I swear he could speak properly if he tried.
“I’m the Genius of Mysteries, my Prince; not omnipotent. I’ve also only just arrived.”
“Indeed. Zzo, you have no leadzz?” he asked, turning from me to examine the heads on the wall. “Quite a collection. I’m sure they were deliciouzz.”
“There are a couple of half-breeds we’d like to question. They’re being tracked now. May I ask the interest of the Council for the Inquisition? Are there signs of blasphemy here?”
He looked at me sharply, I think frowning, though with those eyes taking up most of his face, expressions are not clear.
“I have a gift for you Zizzuph. Zzomething to make your life eazzier.” He gestured to a Minion who’d been standing in the shadows of the room.
“Bring out the culprit we found.”
After nodding an acknowledgement, the Minion disappeared for a moment and returned with another. Between them they carried a small demon, about five feet tall. He’d been badly beaten and his wings torn. He had a cat’s face and one eye dangled by the nerve from the socket. I recognised Neraphus.
“Me no kill Mesmerath! Me no kill!”
“You were found eating his entrailzz.”
“I was hungry! Me no eat in days.”
That was likely. Neraphus wasn’t the brightest of us at the Fall. He could have had a house or mansion, as we all did. It just took a bit of scheming, but Neraphus wasn’t that sort of demon. Eventually, he’d chosen to live amongst the half-breed scavenging what food he could. That usually meant he fed on their corpses. They tolerated him like some humans encourage vultures, as he provided a similar service.
Neraphus smiled at Beelzebub.
“Me miss lunch. Besides him no mind. He back soon. He tell you then, not Neraphus, not sort of guy to do that. He was a real mess when me found him.”
“According to the arrezzting offizzer, you asked if anyone could zzee hizz other eyeball.”
“Me like the eyeballs. They go pop in mouth.”
“My Prince, may I ask Neraphus a question?”
“Of courzz Commander.”
“Neraphus, have you ever eaten a demon before?”
“No! Me never quick enough. Besides, they usually in big mansions.”
“That’s right, so how did you get in here tonight?”
He appeared confused.
“Me no remember. Door was open, I think.”
“And you know that for a demon to incorporate fully – without permanent wounds – all his...parts need to be ‘available’?”
“Yes, me know...” He looked down at his swollen belly, thought about this, and threw up. Some splashed
Beelezebub’s shoes and coat. I turned my face so he couldn’t see me smile.
“My Lord Prince,” I said. “The Security Squadron thank you for your interest and so quickly apprehending the culprit. I think we can take it from here. After all, it’s just a matter of waiting for Mesmerath to return to us.”
Beelezebub smiled at me, slightly.
“Indeed Commander. You will report to me the moment Mesmerath awakezz.”
He obviously saw the surprise in my face. His smile broadened. Beelzebub had no direct link with the SS, or hadn’t. He’d arrived in one of our cars, so perhaps things had changed and I’d missed the memo. I seldom reported anything to anyone, unless it directly affected Satan himself. The last plot of rebellion had been three hundred years ago. We hadn’t spoken since he’d congratulated me.
I’d prefer never to set foot in The Fortress – Satan’s palace – again. The politicking of the Princes of Hell bore me. All seven princes have their own private army of Minions and all seven hate or loathe or love each other, depending on the year. Obviously, Beelzebub wanted to control the Security Squadron as well as the Council for the Inquisition. We’d see. Satan had chosen me, precisely because he didn’t trust any of the Seven Princes.
After Beelzebub and his Minions left, I told Neraphus to sit still whilst I examined the remains. I also called Jezereth to enter and bring a couple of officers with him, plus a photographer.
As they entered the room, one officer glanced at the heads on the walls and stopped. Jezereth and the other followed his gaze. That’s when it struck me that they were all half-breed.
“Fine collection,” said Jezereth, without smiling.
The two officers exchanged glances which spoke of their disgust.
“You two, sit with Neraphus here, until Mesmerath returns. He’s the chief suspect of Lord Prince Beelzebub, so please make sure he’s comfortable and that he doesn’t leave this room. Also, I want as many photographs as possible before Mesmerath comes back.”
“Hail Victory, Commander!” They both saluted.
“Jezereth, come with me.”
I led Jezereth through the house, until we found Mesmerath’s study. That was easy as all we had to do was follow the trail of destruction and gore on the walls.
The study showed signs of violence. It was a large room on the first floor. I couldn’t be sure if Beelzebub or his Minions had already disturbed the room. My guess was, it was likely; as they were obviously throwing me Neraphus, to keep me from finding something else.
Mesmerath was the genius of magic circles, the means of summoning one of us to Earth, examples of which decorated most walls in the mansion. A large circle, about six feet across, was drawn in the centre of the floor, in chalk and salt. The circle was broken. It looked like someone had scuffed the lines as they were what? Dragged from it or broke free?
Jezereth carefully skirted the circle to examine the desk. I stood working out the sigils and runes written into the design on the floor. They were very ancient. They were a summoning spell, but I didn’t recognise who would arrive.
“Commander,” said Jezereth, holding up a small book bound in the flesh of a half-breed.
I wondered if Mesmerath’s demise was a lynching and the first sign of a revolt by the half-breed. It would make sense if those in the tenements knew what went on here.
“What is it?”
“His diary, sir.”
“Good. Go and wait downstairs with the others. Bring Mesmerath to me the moment he incorporates. And tell no-one he’s back. Prince Beelzebub can wait until I’ve spoken to him first.”
“But sir...”
“Do as I say Jezereth.”
He left. That’s the trouble with half-breeds. They can die and they’ve all developed a healthy fear of the Inquisition, the organisation which first suggested the culling.
Not that the Inquisition treat demons gently. If we’re found guilty of blasphemy, we can be imprisoned, permanently. We’re drowned in molten lava. There is no end to that punishment. Even when the rock cools and solidifies in our lungs, we’re still live.
Once Jezereth had left, I cast the diary aside, without opening it. It was too easy. Either the Inquisition wanted me to find it or there was nothing useful in it.
I scanned the room, dismissing the desk and the idea of safes hidden behind pictures. A convex mirror stood above the fireplace, giving a distorted view of the room. I pictured Prince Beelzebub admiring himself in it; those bulging eyes filling the frame. It was circular. I used a cushion from one of the chairs to protect my hand and smashed the glass. A notebook fell to the floor.
I flipped through the pages. Mesmerath had been visiting the Great Library and made notes on an artefact called the ‘Soul Knife’. According to his notes, this blade could be used to kill demons. I had to re-read that line a few times before I could comprehend its meaning.
I scanned the pages to the most recent entries. The last entry was undated.
“I’ve found it! The missing element for the Soul Knife is the living blood of a human. The metal for the blade must be quenched in this, as the blade is forged in Hell.
“Today, I shall use a circle to conjure a human to this place, take them to Wayland and we will forge The Soul Knife. Today there will be a new order in Hell!”
It appeared something had gone wrong with Mesmerath’s plan. Whatever he’d summoned must have overpowered him.
Looking at my watch, I frowned. Mesmerath should have incorporated by now, but Jezereth hadn’t returned to tell me. There was a scream of terror, followed by a plea for mercy from downstairs. I put the notebook in my inside coat pocket.
I ran back to the hall to find Prince Beelzebub, feeding on one of the officers guarding Neraphus. He’d spat saliva onto his face, which was reducing his skin to liquid and Beelzebub was using his mouthparts to suck up the solution.
“My Lord Prince!”
Beelzebub swung to face me, dropping the officer, who twitched and groaned. He found that when he touched his face, the solution burned his hands.
“Where izz he?! Where is Mezzmerath!” said Beelzebub, stalking towards me.
“My Lord Prince, I am as mystified as yourself.”
“So, Geniuzz of Mystereezz you are unable to tell me where Mezzmerath hazz incorporated?”
“I think he hasn’t incorporated.”
“What?! It is past his time”’
“I think he summoned something and that thing has the power to kill demons. Perhaps he summoned an angel? Either that, or...this isn’t him.” I indicated the mess in the room.
Beelzebub turned from me and walked towards the entrance to the house. He paused at the officer, still whimpering on the floor.
Without facing me, Beelzebub said: “You will report to me at noon tomorrow Geniuzz of Mystereezz, with Mezzmerath or the truth of what happened here. Failure to do so, will be regarded azz blazzphemy.” He stooped slightly and picked up the officer by the scruff of his neck.
“He izz of no help to you now and I am hungry.”
I motioned to Jezereth and the other officer to remain still as Beelzebub dragged him from the room.
***
I find terror concentrates the mind wonderfully.
Leaving officers at the mansion, Jezereth and I returned to Head Quarters. In the car, I passed him the notebook to read.
“Is it true Commander? A knife which can kill demons?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But think of such a thing in the hands of Beelzebub.”
Or those of a half-breed, I thought.
The cold seeped into the car as we sat in silence.
The HQ building towers over its surroundings and is hewn from grey granite. Long vertical banners with our insignia in black on red, drape the entrance hall. I was only slightly surprised to see Minions of the Inquisition talking in groups. They looked as if they were waiting for orders.
I demanded of the Duty Officer, the whereabouts of the two half-breed who’d run from
the crowd. He directed us to the interrogation cells.
I ignored the red sign indicating an interrogation was in progress, and pushed open the door. I don’t know why we bother with them as the screams are sign enough.
“Stop! What have they said?”
The interrogator was sweating from the beating he was giving the two half-breed. Their heads lolled as they tried to focus on me.
“They insist on lying Commander.”
“What do they say?”
“Rubbish, Commander, but don’t you worry, we’ll drag it out of them.”
I spat fire at his hand and his scream exceeded that of the half-breed.
“I said, ‘What do they say?’”
“They said...” He groaned. “They said they saw a human, not Damned; a real live human, running from the mansion. But that’s not possible.”
“It’s true,” added one of the half-breed, through bloodied and broken teeth. “They were carrying a knife. A big shiny knife.”
“Who have you told this too?”
They looked at each other.
“No-one.”
I didn’t believe them. For form’s sake, I indicated their throats should be slit.
Returning to the entrance hall, I asked the Duty Officer if anyone was in my office.
“The Lord Prince Beelzebub, Commander.”
I turned to Jezereth.
“You’re coming with me.”
We ran from the building to my car. I told the driver to take us to Jezereth’s home. In the car his phone bleeped. He read the message.
“Commander, Wayland is missing.”
“Jezereth, listen to me. I know you have a family and I’m sorry, I’m really sorry...”
I stopped. I was amazed that I’d meant what I said. I actually felt pity for him, for what I thought would happen to him and his family once Beelzebub found out what was really going on.
The car stopped outside his house.
“Jezereth, I’m not sure it will work, but take your family and hide.”
Kissing him on the cheek, I then whispered into his ear: “May Satan...no, may God have mercy on you.”
The Demonologia Biblica Page 38