He walked around the apartment checking the other rooms - two bedrooms, a bathroom and a study. The study was full of old books and scrolls, stacked loosely, floor to ceiling. Somehow his attention was drawn to several books on one of the middle shelves. They didn’t stand out in any obvious way – but there was something about them. He seemed to recall them as if from some kind of dream. He took them from the shelf and spread them out on the large desk in the centre of the room. The books were histories. ‘A history of the revolt against the heavens’ by Lord Beelzebub, ‘A history of earliest times’ by Lord Belial and ‘A history of the great battle – or how we were betrayed’ by His Holiness, Lord Lucifer, the Satan. They referred of course to the great battle at the dawn of time when Lucifer led his forces against the Creator in an attempt to destroy him and replace him. Jarrod shuddered to think that if he was Beelzebub then he himself had taken part in this primordial assault – and, being defeated, had been cast down here for all of eternity. He glanced through the histories. There was a fourth book, very ancient – he couldn’t make out the name of the author. In it there were many underlined sentences and marginal notes which must have been his own. He noticed several heavily underlined references to something called the Reflectant device or the Reflectant principle - something defensive and very powerful. There was a marginal note where he referred to it as God’s fist. It tickled his memory. It was something important! Part of some plan! Flipping through the papers he stopped suddenly. One of the papers had a picture – or a drawing – of the same ugly little gnome he’d seen at Waterloo station. The figure was smirking at him - asking to be remembered. For the first time since all of this started Jarrod felt a harsh stab of fear. He really had no idea what was going on and it might not end at all well. The concept of God’s fist was not a particularly encouraging one.
Chapter 4 – I need a man
Cassandra was in the spa bath with another young woman, Adrienne. They were lying together naked, relaxing after many long and luxurious hours of love making. Adrienne was experienced and skilful but Cassandra’s raw energy and spontaneity sometimes overwhelmed her. Adrienne was slightly taller than Cassandra, very fit, and sleekly muscled, with short black hair. She was a kickboxing instructor, and at twenty-five had gone back to University to study for a law degree which she had now almost completed. She and Cassandra met just over a year ago and hit it off immediately. Cassandra loved Adrienne’s quiet intensity along with her sometimes barely suppressed rage, she loved her ambition and her drive - but was also beginning to find it all a bit too much. Nevertheless she cuddled into her as Adrienne kissed her softly and caressed her gently. Adrienne tried to smile as she asked
“Do you really have to go to London tonight?” Cassandra was weary of the question
“Yes I do. I want to.“ Adrienne knew she shouldn’t but pressed on
“Why?” Cassandra could hardly bother answering
“I’ve told you before. I want to see my cousin in Brighton. And ... I just want to get away for a while.” Adrienne responded more harshly than she intended
“Away from me?” Cassandra hugged her
“No darling, it’s not that.” But they both knew that that was exactly what it was.
They got out of the bath, helped dry each other off, dressed quickly in some loose fitting robes and moved on into the living room. They sat on the couch. Their thirteenth floor apartment was in a building on Walker Street in North Sydney – with a wonderful view of Sydney harbour. It was very early in the evening on a Monday, still light. Far below, across the harbour, they could see the one of the ferries pulling out of Circular Quay and starting to make its way across to Manly. They sat slightly apart – almost awkwardly, given the intimacies just shared. Adrienne stared at Cassandra – forlornly – which wasn’t like her. She said
“I don’t know why you’re leaving. I love you. You know that.” Cassandra replied quietly
“I’m not leaving, it’s just a holiday.” But Adrienne stared at her bleakly
“Yes you are.” Cassandra didn’t really know what she intended and couldn’t give an honest answer. So she didn’t reply at all. Adrienne reached for her but Cassandra stood up.
“I better get dressed. I need to get going. The flight leaves at eleven tonight.” Adrienne tried one last time
“Why not stay a bit longer?” But Cassandra had gone into the bedroom and was getting dressed. When she came out she was dressed in jeans and a jumper. It was quite cold out. It was July, middle of winter. She was looking forward to landing in London in the middle of summer – a pleasant transition. She intended to spend a few days looking around before she headed down to Brighton. She looked at Adrienne
“I have to get there early; you know what it’s like now.” Adrienne knew when to stop.
“All right, sure. Wait a moment, and I’ll walk you down to the station.” Cassandra waited while this time Adrienne went into the bedroom to dress, emerging moments later in jeans and a jacket. She looked quite formidable as always - but she certainly didn’t feel that way. She would be lost without Cassandra.
The two women walked down Walker Street and around the corner into Blue Street and then into North Sydney railway station. They held hands. Cassandra was wheeling a small suitcase. Adrienne was determined to end this as brightly and as happily as she could. She wanted for Cassandra nothing but happiness. She joked with her
“I know what you want to do in London. You want to find a man.” Cassandra raised her eyebrows and with a smile replied
“Well, I just might.” Adrienne laughed back at her
“Ugh, why would you want to do that, stupid vile creatures, sordid and pathetic.” Cassandra replied quickly
“No they’re not, well, not all of them.” But she was thinking to herself
‘Maybe I do, I want something .... It’s not such a crazy idea’. Adrienne wouldn’t let it go, continuing playfully
“Show me a man who is more than just a walking penis!” Cassandra considered it then laughed
“That’s not completely fair.” Adrienne laughed back.
“See what I mean. You hesitated. You know it’s true.” They reached the station. They hugged each other. They kissed for a short time. Cassandra turned to go into the station.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Adrienne watched her intently, and said quietly
“Sure, see you then.” Then Cassandra was gone, around the corner into the station. Somehow Adrienne knew that she would never see her again – and her eyes filled with tears.
Adrienne turned back into Blue Street and started back to her apartment. It was a long uphill walk. She thought of the many months of happiness she’d had with Cassandra. She smiled remembering the circumstances of their first meeting. Cassandra and her friend Marianne had arrived at her kick boxing club in the city, wanting to start training. Adrienne was teaching the beginners class that night. She watched them both carefully. Marianne was the sweetest person Adrienne had ever come across – smiling all the time, friendly, bubbling over with happiness. Adrienne didn’t think she’d keep on with the kick boxing – why would she even want to? Sure enough Marianne didn’t come back again. Cassandra though was altogether different. She had no idea what she was doing and was quite clumsy but Adrienne could sense in her an underlying drive, determination and ferocity that was almost frightening. Cassandra kept coming back, they became friends. After only a month she went with Cassandra and Marianne on a trip to Europe including a rather strange stopover in Amsterdam. Not long after that she and Cassandra moved in together. Almost a year ago now! It had all passed so quickly. And how could she forget their experiences together at Madame Zelda’s House of Pain. That was something else. She finally made it to her building, made her way up the elevator and on into her apartment slamming the door behind her. She poured a glass of wine and sank onto her couch – closing her eyes, feeling very sad.
She jumped up when she heard a sound just in front of her, and dropped into a combat st
ance. Standing in the middle of the room there was a short ugly gnome like man with a permanent sneer plastered across his face. He was between her and the door. She had no idea where he had come from or how he had got in. He leered at her
“Hi’ya sweet cheeks. How about a blow job?” She was simply astonished, replying only
“What?” The gnome continued to leer at her
“Oh come on, you might even enjoy it, I know I will.” Coming to her senses she stared back at him harshly
“Fuck off you little turd!” The gnome was not surprised by this. With an evil smile he continued
“Ah, playing hard to get, I like that.” She lowered further into her fighting stance, centring herself, getting ready to fight. But the gnome closed in on her with supernatural speed, punching her hard in the stomach. As she doubled over he smashed her in the side of her head with his closed fist, knocking her to the ground. He jumped on top of her and started repeatedly bashing her on one side of her head and then the other. Barely conscious she tried to struggle as much as she could, but he was impossibly strong and he just kept smashing into her again and again. Even when she was unconscious the gnome kept hitting her. He enjoyed it. This continued for some time. Finally the gnome went into the kitchen and returned with a large carving knife. He killed her by cutting her throat with it.
Standing up, he threw away the knife and wiped the blood off his shirt. He stared down at her, saying out loud
“We can’t have you going off to London after our girl. And you would have.” After that he looked around anxiously. Normally they weren’t allowed to intervene so directly. He waited. But nothing happened. The gnome gloated, saying to himself
“Well, the master is right as always, no-one is watching any more. The old rules no longer apply.” He jumped up and out through the closed window – passing through the glass without breaking it, mumbling to himself
“So much to do, so little time.”
Chapter 5 – The Great Hall
Jarrod and Cassandra were waiting for Abaddon when he returned. They'd tried to sleep through the day but without success. They were still wearing the same clothes that they wore on the train. Cassandra was wearing jeans and a light blue blouse, Jarrod was wearing pants and a casual grey shirt. Abaddon looked at them uncertainly. He was holding something over his arm.
“My Lord, you can't go like that.” Jarrod looked back at him impatiently
“What do you mean?” Abaddon was clearly hesitant, but eventually he said
“Well my Lord, you wouldn’t normally.” Jarrod didn’t care much but asked anyway
“So what do you suggest?” Abaddon showed him the suit he'd brought with him – plain black, elegant but not ostentatious.
"This is similar to what you have already my lord, but yours wont fit you yet." Jarrod grimaced
"Yet!" Abaddon suggested that they follow him into one of the bedrooms. Opening a large wardrobe he pointed out a range of suits – all of them the same plain black in colour, very expensive looking, and all of them massive in size, far too big for him.
“It's just like these ones, my Lord.” Then he opened the other side of the wardrobe to show a range of long gowns.
“And perhaps one of these for the female?” Jarrod was amused
“Why do I have those?” Abaddon again gave one of his smirks.
“You did like to keep one or two of the human females around my Lord, and you always insisted on a certain level of elegance.” Jarrod stared back at Abaddon
“Did I now?” Cassandra looked at Jarrod – her expression ambiguous.
Given where they were the very idea of fashion seemed absurd. But maybe there was a point to it – fit in, play along. He looked over at Cassandra who just shrugged and replied
“Why not?” She sorted through the gowns - pulling out a red satin one.
“This one will do.” She waited patiently, without saying anything. Jarrod finally noticed
“Oh, yes, of course, we’ll wait in the other room.” He stepped outside. Abaddon followed him, rolling his eyes - he still couldn’t believe how inanely Lord Beelzebub was behaving. But once again he reassured himself
“It won’t last too much longer.” A few minutes later Cassandra came out wearing the long red, low cut gown. It was a perfect fit. Jarrod caught his breathe.
“You look ... so beautiful”. Cassandra didn’t reply but looked at him oddly. Jarrod looked back at her. She reminded him of someone – someone in a dream, barely recalled, dancing with him, wearing the same red dress. He tried but he couldn’t remember anything more. He felt an immensely deep sense of loss without knowing why. He went into the other room and came out again wearing the black suit. Cassandra looked him over carefully but made no comment. Abaddon shuffled in place, keen to get going. He said
“Ready, my Lord?” Jarrod replied
“Yes. Let's go then.” Cassandra added dryly
“Oh yes, lets” They were both worrying what they were getting into next.
Abaddon led them out of the building through the side entrance, around to the front and then down a broad promenade towards the Pit. He almost seemed excited. He told them that the Great Hall was also on the edge of the Pit about a third of the way around. They arrived at a circular roadway that ran around the edge. They could see the building they were heading for – about a mile or two away. It was starting to get dark but it was light enough to see clearly. The heat was still almost unbearable. But all of this quickly became irrelevant. Jarrod and Cassandra’s attention was riveted on the pit. It was now just in front of them. Both of them stared at it, too shocked to respond in any other way. It was several miles across and dropped almost vertically. Half a mile down there was the top surface of a seething mass of bodies in constant motion – all shapes and sizes - all naked – arms and legs and heads thrashing about as each of them tried desperately to stay on top and not get sucked under. All of them screaming, biting, snarling, scratching and clawing away at each other - in their endless effort to stay on top where at least the air was a little better. This was now all they had, and all they ever would have. For each of them the final end of a lifetime of striving, a lifetime that had been decreed to be inadequate, earning for them eternal damnation – untold and unlimited suffering and pain now and for ever more - just so many rejects cast forever into the Pit of Despair. Jarrod and Cassandra had to step back as they felt wave after wave of smouldering, blistering heat coming up out of the pit. There was a constant roar of pain and protest from below - even louder than the unending high pitched screeching from above as ever more of the damned poured out of the sky and down into the pit.
Cassandra looked at all of this with great distress and her eyes filled with tears. She exclaimed
“Well that’s just fucking great .“ Jarrod nodded his agreement – too stunned at first to say anything. Then he turned to Abaddon asking him bluntly
“So who’s the sadistic asshole who invented that?” Abaddon was surprised by the question, he answered carefully
“Well, my Lord. Ah, God, Yahweh.” Jarrod was in a harsh mood, he snapped back
“Yeah, I know that you stupid fuck. It was a rhetorical question.” Abaddon was relieved. Hostility was something he understood. He answered quickly
“Yes my Lord, of course my Lord.” Bizarrely Jarrod found himself thinking of how to get out of the Pit if he ever ended up in it. He asked
“How deep is it?” Abaddon replied
“I don’t know, my Lord. It’s supposed to be bottomless. But it couldn’t be, could it? If it was they'd all still be falling.” Jarrod replied stonily
“I’m hardly in the mood for theology. Can you get out or not?” Abaddon replied
“No my Lord, once you're in the Pit you're in there forever. Demons or humans. Makes no difference.” Jarrod was deeply disturbed by this, so much for that idea.
"How many of them go in?" Abaddon sneered
"Most of them these days, my Lord. Almost all of them. Thousands
per hour."
Jarrod and Cassandra continued to stare at it for some time, caught up in its unbearable misery, unable to turn away. Abaddon waited impatiently but careful as always not to show it. Finally they did turn away and proceeded along the roadway - trying without any success to ignore the thundering roar from below and the endless screeching from above. Abaddon wasn’t concerned about it at all and didn’t understand the fuss. He was just keen to get them to the celebrations on time.
The Department of Hate - A Love Story Page 4