Niki Slobodian 03 - Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

by J. L. Murray

  Sasha muttered something and a flame sprung forth from his hand to light the trail. He grinned. “I learn a few things down here as well.”

  The road was changing. It had gone from smooth, sanded-down stone to jagged jumbles of rocks that caught my feet and threatened to trip.

  “So this Sheol place,” I said to Sasha. “It's part of the Unsung? Like the place in between worlds?”

  “Yes, Unsung,” he said. “Is not a good place for the living.”

  “You've been there?” I said.

  He hesitated. “One time I have been to Sheol. Only one.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  He looked at me, his face glowing by the light of the flame in his hand. “I went to see your mother,” he said.

  “My mother's there?”

  “Everyone from the world that has crossed over is there,” he said. “Is like a graveyard without the dirt. And...” He frowned.

  “And?” I said.

  “There are voices,” he said. “Like the souls are dreaming and you can hear it. Whispers and shouts and laughter. Maybe is what you hear every day. But it makes me feel cold to hear. I don't know how anyone could stay there. They say Lucifer has stayed there for very long time. I think the mind must give way.”

  “You think Lucifer is crazy,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Sasha.

  I looked at Sam. If he was listening, he was doing a good job of ignoring us. Sam had spoken of Lucifer fondly, something he hadn't done with any of his other brothers. I got the feeling they had been close. “I hope you're wrong,” I said.

  The road narrowed, and got worse. The cliffs squeezed tightly to become a narrow canyon and the road itself was broken, the pieces shoved together and rising in peaks. We had to step carefully, avoiding rocks that had rained down from above. Even with my vision it was cloyingly dark. The dim glow of Sasha's magic fire was all that was visible around us now. Sasha had to sweep his hand to see behind the mounds of the treacherous road at our feet.

  I started to feel claustrophobic. We were barely clearing the rock walls on either side of us. It was so dark it was hard to breathe. It felt like we were walking into the mouth of some monstrous beast. The air was hot and had an odd smell to it, like fresh earth and fire and rancid standing water. And then there was a faint glow ahead, pale and golden. I peered towards it. There was a wide, arching doorway that seemed to push against the cliff walls, opening up the path. The glow was a watery, faint light that barely illuminated the crumbled road leading into the arch. There was no door, just a cracked, leaning stone arch, and beyond it, stairs leading down into the earth. Sasha stopped in his tracks.

  “I wait here,” Sasha said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I do not like this place. Too many voices. Makes me twitchy. I wait here, yeah? I will be here when you come out.”

  Sam shrugged.

  “Some protector,” I said.

  Sasha smiled. “You do not need a protector. Still, you must be careful,.”

  Sam turned from the gaping entryway and looked at me and spoke his first words since leaving the city. “Ladies first,” he said with a grim smile.

  The stairs seemed to go down forever. The air grew cold, which was better than the steaming humidity of the road, but the air was still wet and the walls were slimy when I reached out a hand to balance myself. As we descended, even the stairs, carved out of the stone, grew slippery and green and it would be easy to take a wrong step and fall and fall. How far? The stairs didn't seem to bother Sam. He took each step surefooted and lost in thought.

  My legs were like jelly, and my calves were sore by the time we finally reached the thick, rough-wood double doors at the bottom of the stairs. They arched high above us like a grand entrance to a castle. I could hear voices behind them, and a yellow light shone out from under the door and in cracks between the doors. The doors themselves were covered with a layer of mold which obliterated almost all of the carved symbols in the wood. I could see an eye in the center, but I couldn't make out any of the others. Sam pushed the doors open, bracing his arms and using his whole body to push them slowly, creaking as they slowly opened. I covered my ears as the cacophony of voices assaulted us.

  I had to close my eyes. It was like looking into the sun after being in the dark for so long. My eyeballs ached with the brightness. And the noise was loud with a million whispering voices. But after a moment I could look into the arch without pain, and I saw what was making the light.

  As far as I could see, there were rows of flat stone slabs, one after another. And on each slab lay a human form, sleeping. The forms were pale and slightly translucent, each one glowing, the light pale yellow and shining all around them. Spirits. This was, without a doubt, the resting place of the dead. Slowly, I took my hands away from my ears. I stepped past Sam into the cavernous, immense room. I walked to the first slab and leaned toward the young woman lying there. I could hear her voice, whispering all around me. It seemed to be in my head.

  My mother, my mother will never recover. I wish I hadn't gone out that night. I wish I was with her now.

  I looked back at Sam. “Can you hear them?” I said.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. “What's wrong?” I said, seeing his stricken look.

  He realized I was watching him and shook his head. “I just haven't been here in a very, very long time,” he said. “Old memories.”

  “What are the voices?” I said. “Dreams?”

  Sam swallowed. His face looked haunted, pained in the light. “Regrets,” he said. “Things left undone, people left behind, sins, unhappiness. Occasionally, happiness. The stuff of spirits.”

  “Why are they here?” I said. “I don't understand. You said they've crossed over.”

  “Yes,” said Sam. “And now, they wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Judgment.”

  “So they lie in a cave in Hell?” I said. “What about Paradise? Redemption?”

  “It will come,” said Sam. But he looked unsure.

  “Who does the judging? You?”

  “Certainly not,” he said.

  “Don't tell me it's Michael,” I said.

  “The Creator is the only being that has that kind of power,” said Sam.

  “The Creator's gone. So they could be waiting forever,” I said.

  Sam didn't say anything. I turned and began walking up the rows. I could hear the whispers of each spirit. There were men, women, children. But they were all the same here. All on the same stone slabs, all resting in uniform rows, each glowing with the same luminosity. They spoke in different languages, too.

  “I didn't mean to hurt her.”

  “I remember that house. There was a tire swing in the front. The children loved that swing so much.”

  “I've never seen Daddy cry before.”

  We walked for a long time. There was another arched passageway at the end of the chamber, but when we passed through, it was into another, identical chamber. After passing through the third arch, I could hear a muffled screaming in the distance. I looked at Sam.

  “The deranged,” he said. “The clearly evil are kept away from the rest. Lest they be disturbed.”

  “What would they do if they were disturbed?” I said. “It's not like they're going to wake up.” I looked out over the bodies lying on the slabs, then looked back at Sam. “Are they?” I said.

  “No, they won't wake,” he said. “They're not asleep. They're dead.”

  “They don't sound dead,” I said.

  “Don't they?” He looked past me then, frowning. “We don't have much time, Niki,” he said.

  “What are you talking about? I know we don't have much time.”

  Sam only nodded at a slab behind me. I turned to look and I felt myself sigh.

  She was lying on the stone, glowing slightly, just like the others. But I knew her. It was my mother. The mother I last saw on the night Sasha shot her in the head, just before
we raced through the darkness to board a boat and flee the country. The mother I remembered only from periodic nightmares in which I was splashed with her blood.

  “Mamo,” I heard myself say, the old word coming easily to my lips.

  I went to her as if moving through quicksand. I looked into her face. She had been breathtakingly beautiful. I hadn't remembered that. I hadn't really remembered what she looked like. I stared hard at her, trying to ingrain her face into my mind so I would never forget again. “Mamo,” I said again, my voice a whisper. I reached out to touch her face, but my hand went through, making my breath catch in my throat. Apparently I could only touch the ghosts that had not yet crossed over. I put my hand over hers and it went through to the cold stone underneath. I left it there. There wasn't a chilly clamminess like with the ghosts. There was just...nothing.

  “I miss you,” I whispered, surprised by the emotion I felt. “I don't remember you, not really, but I miss you.” The whispers around her were low, quieter than the others. I bent closer to listen, concentrating on the sound. Would she say my name? Would she worry about leaving me behind?

  I frowned as I put my ear practically on top of her. When I did hear, it was even more puzzling than before. She uttered only one word, over and over and over. So low that it was hard to register. “Pineme,” she said. Over and over. “Pineme, Pineme, Pineme, Pineme.” I racked my brain. I hadn't spoken Ukrainian since I was eight, when I'd asked Sofi to start speaking only English around the house. Since then I'd refused to speak my native language. I couldn't remember the word. And somehow I knew it wasn't a word. Not Ukrainian, anyway. Not in any language. How did I know that? Perhaps it was a name, but what sort of a name?

  I bent low to her again, hoping to hear something else, something that made sense, but she just kept saying the same word over and over. Pineme. It was like a mantra. I looked into her face again. “What does it mean, Mamo?” I whispered. I knew she wouldn't answer, but I was still disappointed. If she were alive I could touch her and know her memories instantly. We could talk. I could ask about my father, ask why she was hunted. I could wrap my arms around her and grab onto her without letting go.

  “Niki,” Sam said softly in my ear. “We must go. I'm sorry.” He put a hand on my back.

  “Right,” I said, wiping at my cheeks. “I'm sorry. I forgot for a minute.” Sam was looking at my mother, and he frowned. “What is it?” I said.

  He looked back to me, confused for a moment. Sam shook his head. “It's nothing,” he said.

  I stared at him. “Sam, do you know something?”

  Sam looked at my mother again. He moved closer, listening, then looked back at me. “We'll talk later,” he said. “Right now, we have to stop a war. That is our only goal right now. Are we agreed?”

  I felt the power in me flare up, but I pushed it down. I wanted to be angry at him, to hit something until I knew everything, but I knew Sam was right. There would be time for questions later. Right now we had to stop the fighting. People were dying while I cried over my mother who had been dead since I was a little girl. I nodded. “Fine,” I said. “Let's go find Lucifer.”

  At the end of the chamber, there were more stairs leading further down. The air felt wet and frigid as we passed through chamber after chamber. My legs throbbed and my feet hurt. We descended yet another set of stairs.

  The voices echoed louder the deeper we got, as if we were immersed in a pool of whispers. I could see why a living person could go mad here. I was going slightly batty and I hadn't even been here that long. A few times I put my hands over my ears to muffle the noise.

  “How far do these go down?” I said.

  “How many people have died in the world?” said Sam.

  “Ever?” I said. “I don't know. Billions, I guess. ”

  “Then that is how far the caverns go.”

  The chilling sound of thousands of whispering voices suddenly rose. There was a flickering of the golden light, and I saw that the souls themselves were flickering like electric lights in a power surge. The voices filled my head and even with my hands over my ears the noise was deafening. I staggered back. Sam looked over the slabs, his eyes sharp and his lips tight. He reached out and steadied me with a firm grasp on my arm.

  “What is it?” I shouted. “What's doing this?”

  Sam didn't answer, just kept searching the room with his eyes. He began walking forward, pulling me gently by the arm. The whispers grew still louder. Just when I thought I would burst an eardrum from the frightening murmurings, the room went silent. It was a thick silence, like when I had traveled with Sam to Limbo and could feel the darkness invading my mind. The bodies lying on the slabs grew brighter. They were no longer flickering, but they glowed with an intensity that made my eyes feel as though they were being stabbed with needles. I took my hands from my ears and shielded my eyes.

  A figure entered the arch at the other end of the chamber. As he passed each slab, the souls flickered, and then resumed their whispering. It seemed a low volume now compared to the explosion of sound we had just witnessed. I looked at Sam. He released my arm and was staring hard at the man walking toward us.

  “It's him, isn't it?” I said. “It's Lucifer.”

  “Yes,” said Sam.

  I felt a shiver as I watched him walk toward us. An intense feeling of foreboding. He was large and dirty, his face and legs smeared with dirt. His golden skin matched his hair, which hung in matted ropes around his face, little bits of debris stuck in it. He was wearing what was once a light-colored tunic, but it now hung from his body in filthy shreds. I could see his eyes when he was almost upon us. Sam's eyes.

  “How did you find me?” Lucifer said, glaring at Sam.

  “It wasn't easy,” said Sam. He didn't seem at all intimidated by his brother, who was taller and wider than him. “I've been looking for you for a very long time.”

  “I didn't want to be found,” growled Lucifer. He looked from Sam to me. “You should be dead,” he said. “You reek of death.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Lucifer looked back at Sam. “You broke your oath, brother.” Lucifer looked back at me. “For a human.” He narrowed his eyes. “No, you're not a human, are you?”

  “Neither are you,” I said.

  “You're familiar, though,” he said. “What are you exactly? It's as though I can't quite place it.”

  “I'm Niki Slobodian,” I said. “And we need your help.”

  “Tell me, Niki Slobodian,” said Lucifer, stepping toward me, his black eyes looming in front of my own. “Are you a good person?”

  I looked at Sam, then back at Lucifer. I raised an eyebrow. “A good person?” I said. “What is this, a Girl Scout interview?”

  “You've lived in the world, I can smell it on you,” said Lucifer. “It's as sure as you smell of death. The stench of the city, of blood and sin and mediocrity. You might not be human, but I know you've lived as one. Are you good? ”

  “I've never had the chance to be good,” I said. “But I don't know that I'd pick it even if I could.”

  “You see?” said Lucifer. “That is how it is these days. Humans expect things. They want and want and take and take. And in the end, in the very end, they don't see their action as good or sinful. They only think of what they didn't take. What they didn't have. You've killed before, haven't you? You've taken life.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Does that make you evil?”

  “No,” I said. “The people I've killed have been evil men.”

  “And that is for you to judge?”

  “Who else is going to?” I said with more venom than I meant to. “When someone you love is in danger, it would be evil not to protect them. And if it weren't for your brother, I wouldn't have been in the position where I had to kill them.”

  “Samael?” he said, the scowl turning to surprise.

  “Not Sam,” I said. “Michael.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh yes. Michael will have to pay, no do
ubt about that.”

  “Why are you here, Lucifer?” said Sam. “Are you hiding here from Michael?”

  Lucifer snorted, turning away. “Michael can't trouble me,” he said. “He's like a jealous child. Still angry that the Creator loved me. I could swat him down if I wanted to.”

  “Then why don't you?” I said.

  Lucifer turned and looked at me with interest. “Why should I?”

  “He's killing people,” I said. “Started a war for no reason. He has pitted Heaven and Hell against each other.”

  “Maybe those people should die,” said Lucifer.

  “They're innocent, brother,” said Sam.

  “No one is innocent!” screamed Lucifer. He closed his eyes and seemed to be getting control of his emotions. He was trembling. Sam frowned at him. “No one is innocent,” Lucifer said again, this time in a calmer voice. “Not anymore. Not in the world. There is no innocence, no sin, no beauty. No Creator. Only dirt and grime and blood. Humans have ruined their gift.”

  “Gift?” I said.

  “The world,” said Sam. “What's happened to you, Lucifer?”

  “To me?” he said. “To everything. Have you lived in the world for so long that you can no longer see it? The decay. It sickens me. If the Creator were Himself, He would wash it all away again. Cleanse the world of His mistake.” Lucifer bowed his head. “Leave me, brother. I do not wish to save a world that I hate.” He began to walk away.

  “What did you say?” said Sam. There was realization on his face. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared, like he was excited about something.

  Lucifer turned with a dejected sigh. “Did you not hear me?”

  “You said 'if the Creator were Himself,'” said Sam, his voice taut. “What did you mean by that? What do you know?”