The Department of Hate - A Love Story

by Anthony O'connor

  “I did, did I?” It seemed vaguely familiar.

  He didn’t know what to say to any of this. He turned to Cassandra who had been listening carefully.

  “What do you think?” Cassandra was still trying to take it all in. She seemed lost in thought. She shook her head, replying only with

  “I don’t know.” Abaddon spoke out loudly, almost fiercely

  “I’ll call for a guard my Lord, to take away the female” But Jarrod looked back at him even more fiercely

  “No. She stays with me. She is not to be harmed.” Abaddon nodded his head

  “Of course, my Lord.” Cassandra finally seemed to have come to some conclusion. Looking at Jarrod she blurted out

  “So, we’re dead and you’re Satan?” It sounded ridiculous – and yet here they were. Jarrod smiled and shook his head slowly

  “No, he says I’m just Beelzebub, second in the hierarchy, Lucifer is Satan.” Cassandra replied with a smile

  “Well that’s ok then.” It still all seemed absurd though. They were still in the park, in the deserted city – well, not quite deserted – standing, talking. Jarrod was thinking that maybe this was some kind of trick. It was best to play along, find out more. And yet, he didn’t really think it was. There was something awfully familiar about Abaddon. He turned back to face him

  “So where’s Lucifer then?” Abaddon couldn’t even hear that name without flinching. He replied carefully

  “He hasn’t been seen in a long time my Lord. He’s been waiting for your return though, we all have. You’re a year later than expected. I’m sure someone has already told him you’re back.” Jarrod listened to all of this carefully. He had no idea what Abaddon meant by ‘a year later’, but clearly being ‘back’ meant being dead. He was in an increasingly strange mood. Looking for more answers he said

  “We had a little trouble on the train.” Abaddon actually smiled at this. He smirked

  “Ah yes, the terrorist bombing. Seven hundred killed. Things are heating up. Wont be long now, my Lord.” Jarrod decided not to ask what wouldn’t be long. He looked straight at him and asked instead

  “So we were killed? We are dead then?” Abaddon seemed surprised by the question

  “Well of course, my Lord.”

  Jarrod ignored Abaddon and moved closer to Cassandra. She’d been standing there listening, but not looking very happy. He reassured her

  “Stick close to me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She seemed uncertain. She spoke quietly

  “You appear to be taking all of this in pretty easily.” Jarrod looked back at her.

  “Well, it’s hard to believe. I know who I am. But let’s just play along. If this is Hell its better to be one of the demons, that’s one thing we can be sure of.” But Cassandra shook her head, exclaiming

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. And what about me?” Jarrod replied earnestly.

  “I will protect you.” He had no doubt that he could. His feelings for her were even stronger than before. He felt certain that their arrival together was no accident – that their destinies were interwoven in some remarkable way.

  Abaddon motioned for them to follow him and set off quickly. They walked through a series of gloomy streets making their way towards what they could begin to make out to be a mighty wall in the distance. Strangely as they walked the city streets seemed to dissolve around them and then fade away completely. Before very long they found themselves in a desert some miles away from the outer walls of a different city. It seemed to be early in the morning. The sky was a harsh yellow in colour. There was no sun to be seen. But it was already fiercely hot and clearly was only going to get worse. Jarrod called out to Abaddon

  "What's going on?" Abaddon stopped and looked around before replying

  "We're now properly in Hell my Lord. These are the Plains of Desolation. The walls ahead are the outer walls of the city of Dis. When a group of the dead get taken in special circumstances - as you were - they go through some kind of shared hallucination – some kind of projection. Details vary. This happened to all of you on the train. We were picking you up - that made it extraordinary enough to affect everyone. But in addition to that Asmodeous was there picking up two of the girls - and the priest of course. The rest got thrown into the pit. Usually the dead just fall straight into it.” Cassandra was starting to be annoyed by Abaddon’s casual arrogance. She glared at him and said

  “Not everyone goes into the pit, surely.” Abaddon seemed annoyed to be even addressed by her then he just shrugged, and with a cynical sneer replied

  “Almost everyone." Jarrod was not reassured by any of this. He was still puzzled. He asked

  "So why is it suddenly morning?" Abaddon was eager to proceed but of course he couldn’t defy the Lord Beelzebub. He forced himself to be patient

  "The transition seems to always take a few hours my Lord and then there's the time zone change. We stay on Jerusalem time down here. Two hours ahead for you." Jarrod was surprised by this, he could only say

  "What?” Abaddon knew that the Master would find this amusing

  "Yes my Lord, the holy city on Earth, the centre of the world from a theological point of view - kind of our opposite up there. So holy that all they can do through all of history is slaughter each other over who possesses it. So charmingly human!" Again, he sneered at Cassandra, trying to provoke her. She stared back at him stoically. She had no intention of trying to defend the indefensible. Jarrod didn’t reply either but did give further thought to what Abaddon had said. It was all so perversely coherent. They continued trudging across the desert - covering the required several miles quite slowly - quickly growing weary in the blistering heat.

  Soon they come up to a vast gate which loomed over them – it was open, but with a dozen guards at each side. Fearsome creatures, warrior demons, ten feet tall, with hatchet faces, eyes filled with hatred, battle axes held high and ready. But all of the guards quickly stood to attention as their party approached and remained that way as they proceeded through. Jarrod asked Abaddon

  “What are the walls and the guards for?” Abaddon replied

  “The Plains of Desolation are inhabited by the souls of the insane. They go there rather than into the Pit. There are vast hordes of them. From time to time they get motivated by some crazy idea or other and attack en masse. Usually we beat them off very easily. Sometimes though there are so many, well, it gets a bit tight.” He paused, not sure whether to include the next part. But then decided he should.

  “On the edge of the Plains of Desolation there are the ancient Gods – all of the other Gods, defeated by Yahweh. Sometimes they attack too. That is always hard.” He sighed. Lately the Norse Gods had been attacking almost nightly and he was so sick of it. Jarrod didn’t reply. He was so fascinated by all of this that for a moment he almost forgot where they were.

  They passed through the gate without incident and suddenly found themselves looking out over Hell’s inner city of Dis. Jarrod's face was blank. Cassandra let out a small gasp

  “Oh my ...”

  There were looking down from the outer slopes over a valley six or seven miles wide. In the middle of the valley there was a vast circular pit, and around it a series of buildings. There were eight very large buildings arranged around the central pit. They shared a plain and simple architecture - squat and bureaucratic, grey and ugly, almost normal in appearance but somehow unimaginably vile - places that should never be. Abominations! Jarrod instinctively knew there was no limit to the horrors that took place within them. Further out there were a very large number of smaller buildings, clearly barracks, enough for thousands of troops, millions even. They could see demons moving about - though not too many. But all of this paled into insignificance compared to the pit itself. Falling into it from the yellow sky above there was a vast and never ending stream of lost and failed souls. The damned! They poured down into the pit - their collective and never ending scream of anguish echoing out over the valley. Clearly this continued
without end, day and night, never diminishing. Cassandra eyes filled with tears. Jarrod held her hand, consoling her

  “It will be all right” But they were empty words. He felt it too. It wasn’t all right. It was the end of all things. It surely was true that to enter here was to abandon all hope.

  Abaddon couldn’t see what the fuss was about. He was eager to move on, though of course not at all eager to offend his Lord and Master. A vengeful Master who when he reverted to his true self would remember everything and forgive nothing. This was inevitable and would happen soon.

  “I will take you to your quarters my Lord.” Jarrod nodded. They proceeded down into the valley, reached some outer pathways and continued towards the inner ring of the eight large grey buildings. As they got closer they passed a few demons on the path. They were all seven feet tall, solidly built and of fierce demeanour. Though Jarrod was still in human form they clearly recognised him and were fearful and deferential. Some of the demons were leading one or more naked human females on chain leashes. The young women seem traumatised – lost, eyes downcast. Jarrod pointed them out and asked Abaddon about them. Abaddon smirked.

  “Well my Lord, we keep a few of them - for a while.” Jarrod stared back at him - taking in the implications. He exclaimed cynically

  “Of course you do“ then after a brief pause, he asserted fiercely “no one touches Cassandra! “ Abaddon replied patiently

  “Yes, of course, my Lord.” Jarrod held her hand more tightly. Once again he reassured her.

  “It’s going to be all right.“ She looked around glumly

  “I don’t see how.” Abaddon watched the interaction, trying to conceal his distaste. How could the Master be so taken in by such odious and obvious sentimentality? She was cute though. When the Master tired of her and discarded her then he would get the chance to have some fun. She would look good nude and leashed, he would enjoy breaking her and when he was done with her – the pit. He would cast her into it personally. He stole a few glances at her. She saw him looking and clearly understood his intentions. She seemed to react with something like disgust. Abaddon looked back at her, thinking to himself

  ‘Ah, you will pay for that, so dearly’. Cassandra was not afraid of him at all. She asked him another question, knowing it would annoy him

  "You said almost all go into the Pit, so who doesn’t, who gets into heaven?" Abaddon was again furious at being questioned like this. But Jarrod was looking at him and clearly expected him to reply. He snarled back

  "Just the Christians - and not too many of them." Cassandra was astonished by this.

  "That's crazy." Abaddon sneered at her

  "Being in an exclusive club has to have its rewards." Cassandra replied to him

  "But I'm not a Christian." Abaddon smiled at her smugly and pointed at the Pit

  "Well then, one day sooner or later ..." Cassandra snapped back at him

  "Fuck you." Abaddon replied quickly and cynically

  "Any time darling – and sooner than you might think." Cassandra continued to glare at him. But Abaddon could see that the Master disapproved. He turned away and continued walking on.

  Abaddon led them through the streets to one of the larger buildings and then in through a side entrance. They went down a hallway and then into a large apartment. Jarrod looked around. It was very plain - a large mostly empty room with just a few pieces of furniture – sofa, chairs, table. There were no decorations, no personal items. The walls were bare. There were no windows. There were a few other rooms leading off from the main one. Abaddon announced

  “This building is the Department of Hate my Lord and these are your private quarters.” Jarrod looked puzzled.

  “We’re like humans then? We eat? We sleep?” Abaddon shrugged

  “More or less my Lord.” Cassandra stood by, silently, looking around. Apartments usually said something about their occupants. This place said nothing. She had also noticed how easily Jarrod had used the phrase ‘We’re like humans ’. He seemed to be adapting so quickly - even readily. She liked him. She admired and clearly needed his steadfastness. But there was something increasingly disturbing about his far too easy acceptance of it all.

  Jarrod was determined to sort out some basic facts. He continued to question Abaddon.

  “Do we have day and night - the same calendar?” Abaddon replied

  “Yes my Lord.” Jarrod thought about this, they were taken Friday night - but then the time of day had changed just outside the gate

  “So what time is it? What day, exactly?” Abaddon replied, forcing himself to be patient - as always – though with no real choice in the matter

  “It's Saturday, my Lord - nine in the morning. As you can see it gets very hot down here very quickly. The nights are very cold though." Jarrod really was amazed

  “I thought Hell was supposed to be permanently hot?” Abaddon grimaced

  “The pit is hot enough my Lord.” Jarrod replied soberly

  “I'm sure it is. This department ... what do we actually do?” Abaddon paused before replying.

  “It seems strange to be telling you all of this. After all of your previous incarnations you reverted instantly.” Then he recovered himself quickly, hiding his sudden flash of fear. He hadn’t used the required honorific. Retaliation could be swift and terrible. "But you will soon be yourself my Lord.” Jarrod was still waiting, he prompted

  “And the department?” Abaddon continued quickly

  “Yes my Lord, you wrote the new mission statement yourself - our primary goal is to ferment hatred and discord, to contribute to the misery, wretchedness and ultimate damnation of all mankind. As you have often pointed out it's too easy. They do most of it by themselves.” Jarrod thought about this

  “So we’re all out and out bastards then?” Abaddon replied to this eagerly

  “Yes my Lord we most certainly are. The last thirty three years while you’ve been up there have been spectacular. As you know we’re coming to the end times.” Jarrod smiled sadly at this all too apt micro summary of recent history. He didn’t know anything explicit about the end times – though of course there was no shortage of apocalyptic and messianic cults, possibly more now than ever before. He was still thinking it through, trying to make sense of it. It was all so strangely and disturbingly familiar. He asked

  “You said something about Lucifer?” Abaddon cringed

  “Yes my Lord, His Holiness, the Lord of Darkness hasn’t been seen for twenty years. He’s said to be waiting for your return. I always thought that your last incarnation was part of the plan?” His intonation indicated the implied question at the end. But Jarrod was growing tired of him. He decided to assert his authority

  “We’ll see about that. All right, you can go now.” Abaddon moved back and bowed.

  “Yes my Lord.” Then after a brief pause he said. “My Lord, We’re having a feast tonight, in your honour - in the Great Hall. Lord Belial has organised a few dog fights for your entertainment. Would you care to attend? We’ll start about nine.” Jarrod replied

  “Yes certainly.” He needed to find out everything he could. He wondered briefly what kind of fights they would be, but then thought that he probably didn’t want to know. Abaddon bowed deeply

  “I’ll come by and pick you up my Lord.” He couldn’t stop himself from briefly glaring at Cassandra, and then he turned and left the apartment. He looked like he couldn’t get out quickly enough.

  Jarrod turned to Cassandra. He was wondering how she felt about all this, what her thoughts were. He said to her

  “What a grovelling little weasel.” They both laughed. Jarrod intoned

  “My Lord this, my Lord that – for fucks sake, he should give it a rest.” They continued laughing for a while but then stopped. Jarrod was shaking his head.

  “This is a truly horrible place. How can we possibly be here?” There was no immediate answer to that. Cassandra said

  “And they’re all shit scared of you.” Jarrod laughed again


  “So it would seem. The ninth incarnation of Beelzebub! The second biggest bastard in all of creation!” He found it hilarious - he started laughing. But Cassandra stopped him, her mood suddenly more sombre

  “It's not funny. Soon you’ll be like them.” Jarrod was instantly serious

  “No. I won't. Not ever. Whatever I was then – now, I am who I am. I’m not changing into someone or something else. They are mistaken about that. Who I am does not include fermenting hatred and discord and lording it over the lost and the damned – and never will. We’re going to leave this place. Somehow! And while we’re stuck here I will protect you.” Cassandra seemed reassured. She replied simply

  “Thank you".

  She leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Jarrod was clearly a good man. How could he also be Beelzebub? They all seemed to think he was but it was impossible to understand. She could see that his infatuation with her had only increased. She did not really have any great feeling for him beyond that initial favourable impression. This already seemed to be from a lifetime ago. She smiled sadly. Strictly speaking it was. But in any case from a purely practical point of view if you had to be in this terrible place it couldn’t hurt to be under the protection of one of its major lords. But then if he reverted she wouldn’t be. She was not happy with herself for making such obviously utilitarian calculations. This was not the kind of person she wanted to be. Jarrod was all right, she had no desire to use him or deceive him. Finally she faded into a shallow sleep. Her mind kept replaying recent scenes and events – over and over - but none more often than the terrible image of the pit and the unending stream of the damned pouring down into it. She twisted and turned. She knew beyond all doubt that down here sooner or later she would encounter the gnome. She cried out in her sleep.

  Jarrod watched her sleeping. He’d met her only a few hours ago really. His love at first sight had only grown deeper. He could see even more clearly now that she had in abundance those essential though hard to define qualities of grace under fire and courage along with an all too rare basic kindness and empathy. He could also see a fiery determination and combativeness that would no doubt be very useful especially now. She was tough and she was sharp. And of course as she lay there sleeping she was still and always would be breathtakingly beautiful. It raised the obvious question though. What was she doing here? He was beginning to suspect you didn’t have to do much to be damned. Perhaps she had not bowed and scraped deeply enough. Jarrod had never believed in God or an afterlife – well, not since he was seven years old and Father Menzies had run away screaming from his own church. Though of course from where they were now it was very difficult to continue with those particular denials. So maybe there was an all powerful creator – a vain and tedious little thing – demanding obedience and servitude, craving worship and devotion. Absolutely intolerant of dissent! The slightest whiff of non-compliance and wham, bam - burn forever. So the afterlife like life itself had nothing to do with justice but was all about raw power – here at least without the deep all pervading layers of deception and hypocrisy. But why this place at all? Why weren’t the demons also simply cast into the pit? Why the Pit? Why not simply erase or delete completely those found unworthy – or did this unknown and sadistic God simply enjoy watching them suffer, and suffer forever at that? He looked at Cassandra and sighed. None of it mattered. Somehow he would save her from all of this, and save himself. They would find a life. He would lay low, find out the rules and come up with a plan. Was it possible they could both get back to Earth? It must be, and if it was nothing would stop him.