The Perfect Sun

by Brendan Carroll

  “Oh, yes, of course, I do,” Lucifer assured him. “I fully intend to see him ere long.”

  “Then why not come with us? You could be very helpful,” Armand urged him.

  “I will consider it, but Ashmodel has offered me habitation for a time within Leviathan. I miss young Michael and would care to bide with him for a time.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Armand was truly disappointed. He picked up the gold and silver box and handed it off to his lovely wife when he passed by her on his way upstairs. “See if you can find something worthy of a crown prince to fill that, my sweet,” he told her, and then stumbled on the bottom step. She went at once to offer her arm, and then walked him up the steps.

  “How long will that last?” Lucifer asked the Djinni when Armand had abandoned them. He referred to the strange spectacle in the corner of the great hall. Omar stood stock still, dressed in his gold, white and purple uniform. Ernst knelt on the small wooden stool that had once been Luke Matthew’s favorite seat in the room.

  “I am not sure.” Lemarik frowned and played with a strand of his beard. “These things are beyond my comprehension, but it seems to please my son to listen to him.”

  “So it seems,” Lucifer agreed. The Angel got up and walked toward the two men in the corner. He stopped very near them and leaned forward slightly, gazing into Ernst’s eyes. The general faltered and then stopped.

  “Why do you go on so, my son?” Lucifer asked him earnestly. “What can this poor soul do for you that you cannot do yourself?”

  “He can absolve me of my sins. He is the Prophet,” Schweikert frowned at him. “As humans we are expected to confess our sins to the clergy and ask for forgiveness.”

  “Of whom do you ask this forgiveness? Of Omar? Or of God? Can Omar speak for God?”

  “No… yes!” Schweikert removed Omar’s hand from his head and stood up. “He speaks for God.”

  “You are mistaken, my friend.” Omar startled them as he suddenly became animated. He shook his head and his blue eyes sparkled with innocence. He looked very much like a small child. “I cannot speak for God. None can speak for God.”

  “Then why are you taking my confession?” Ernst turned on him angrily.

  “Because it comforts you, my friend,” Omar told him blandly. “A man must offer comfort to whomever he meets along life’s path. Men find comfort in diverse forms. You wish to speak your sins aloud, and you wish someone to listen.”

  “But they were sins against you!” Ernst backed away from him. “I need to have your forgiveness.”

  “You do not need my forgiveness, my son,” Omar told him. “You need to forgive yourself. You want to hear me say you are forgiven. I do not have to speak for God. If you are penitent, truly, in your heart, then God has already forgiven you.”

  “But the Church teaches…”

  “We are not of the Church, Ernst,” Omar cut him off. “We are of God. God is in us and we are in God. We are the Church. You and I.” Omar stopped and slapped both hands over his ears as if a great noise were upon him.

  Ernst looked at Lucifer momentarily and then frowned at Omar.

  “Then you forgive me?”

  Omar lowered his hands and smiled.

  “Of course, my son. You have done nothing to me. You were a good and loyal servant.” Again, he was stricken as if something had physically assaulted his head. He grabbed his ears again and made a terrible face before speaking again. “I will be with you in hell, my friend. We will all be together in hell. All of us! Leave me alone! Leave us alone! Let us die in peace!”

  Ernst fell on his knees and grasped Omar’s legs, hugging him tightly and weeping loudly.

  Lucifer smiled at Omar and then pressed one hand over Omar’s eyes. He caught the Prophet in time to keep him from falling on the groveling general. Lemarik was on his feet instantly and beside his fallen son. “There, that should do it,” the angel said as he crossed Omar’s feet at the ankles and then folded his hands over his heart.

  “Stand back,” Lucifer said more loudly. He physically dragged the Djinni away from Omar. “We have a bit of exorcism to do here, my friend.”

  Lemarik pulled the sobbing general back to the table, where they both sat down heavily. For the next several hours, they watched in abstract fascination as Lucifer expelled demon after demon from his poor, beautiful son. There seemed to be hundreds of them. They came screaming and cursing amidst clouds of smoke and ashes. The hall filled with the stench of sulfur and brimstone and even more foul odors. The elves awoke one by one and fled into the courtyard as they discerned the nature of the problem, slamming the keep’s great doors behind them. The various spirits and devilish creatures flew about the room, knocking over lamp stands, fruit bowls, wine goblets and furniture before flying into the fire in the hearth and then screaming up the great chimney into the night.

  “Where are they going?!” Lemarik shouted over the wails and moans of the demons.

  “Back to the darkness from whence they came!” Lucifer shouted back to him and smiled his own devilish smile. “Have you not heard this before?”

  The front doors burst open again admitting Michael Ian, Selwig and Ashmodel. The sergeant, who had deserted the keep earlier on, crept in behind them, eyes wide.

  “Stay back!” Lemarik held out one arm to stop them.

  When the spectacle was over, Lemarik picked up his unconscious son and carried him away.

  “Lord Lucifer,” Michael heaved a great sigh of relief and then sat down at the table with Selwig and the terrified sergeant. Ashmodel inspected the fireplace for lingering spirits while Lucifer rounded up mugs of honey mead for all. He sat down across the table from Michael, looking highly pleased with himself.

  “I haven’t done a good exorcism in ages,” he said and turned up the mug. “Thirsty work.”

  “I’m sure,” Michael nodded. “We need to talk, sir. I believe we might need to go in search of Sir Ram… Uriel. I believe he may have met with some accident or problem. He should have been back by now.”

  “So you, too, would go on this foolhardy expedition into perdition?” Lucifer’s eyes sparkled.

  Michael nodded.

  “What do you say, Ashmodai?” Lucifer called to the angel, who had almost completely disappeared up the chimney.

  “I say…” came the muffled voice and then a shower of soot and ash fell into the hearth. Ashmodel came out of the fireplace and joined them at the table. He should have been covered with filth, but his robe was sparkling white as always. “I say…” he began again and then drank heavily of the mead “we should be honored to go on such an adventure. It has been too long for me, my brother. I am bored to the depths of my bones. This place is interesting, but hardly worth a second glance. Nothing is happening here and all may be hanging in the balance even as we speak.”

  “The Djinni thinks we are trapped here.” Lucifer yawned, feigning indifference.

  “We? You and I?” Ashmodel blinked in confusion. “I have never been trapped anywhere…” he paused when Lucifer shot a sour look at him. “Sorry, brother. I do not feel trapped here.”

  “Then perhaps we should make a quick foray into the breach. We might run into some old friends along the way,” Lucifer suggested.

  “To old friends, then and new ones.” Ashmodel raised his tankard to Lucifer and then to Selwig and the others.

  “The Tuathan will stay here,” Lucifer announced. He stood up and adjusted his sword in his belt. “We will take Michael and this golden one, Armand. He seems courageous enough to brave the halls of dust and ashes.”

  Lucifer started for the door.

  “Wait!” Michael ran after him. “How are we going?”

  “In Leviathan, of course,” Lucifer answered over his shoulder. “We can’t leave him here unattended. Now go and wake up your grandfather’s friend, my son, and bring him along. You may have to carry him. Ashmodai and I will go and make our ship ready.”

  Ashmodai began to make known his position as pilot, stati
ng that Lucifer would do well to stay clear of Leviathan’s controlling mechanisms. The messenger of light would restrict himself to role of navigator only, Lucifer argued back with him as they disappeared into the night and Michael bounded up the stairs in search of Armand and Christopher Stewart. They had not included Christopher in their plans, but Christopher would kill them if they left him behind.

  Chapter Sixteen of Sixteen

  Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven?

  Mark Andrew turned onto his back on the bed and lay staring up at the underside of Meredith’s canopy bed. The red-haired cherubim danced slowly around the Maypole in the painting, wrapping it with pink and blue ribbons and festoons of white roses. The wine was gone, the chocolates were gone, the red roses were wilting on the dresser and the haunting strands of Mozart’s violin concerto number 5 were fading from his head. The room seemed unbearably hot even though the windows were open, and a breeze whispered through the lace panels.

  He closed his eyes and heard the sound of children playing in the pool below, splashing and shouting the usual insults at each other. The smell of bar-be-que made his mouth water and he could also smell Merry’s vanilla bath oil as she set about drawing a hot bath for them. Sweat ran into his eye and he wiped it away with the edge of the sheet. Too hot. It was too hot for Scotland and this kind of behavior. They should have been down in the pool with the children. Probably any number of Simon’s sons were down there along with a few dozen others he could not name.

  “Mark?” Merry’s voice reached him, muffled, from the bathroom. “What would you rather have a boy or a girl?”

  “I’d prefer smoked salmon or a rack of ribs. Damn me, it’s hot, Meredith! What are you doing in there? Are you cookin’ up a mulligan in th’ tub?” He did not open his eyes, but chuckled at his own joke before realizing the serious tone of her voice and the nature of her question. He pushed himself up and stared at the open door of the bathroom. “Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?”

  “The baby,” she answered without the least bit of concern in her voice.

  He frowned and then rubbed his hands over his face. This had never happened. This memory was not real. He’d never had such a conversation with Meredith. Not before John Paul’s birth certainly, and not before Nicole and Luke were born. She’d kept her pregnancy with John Paul secret from him and he’d foolishly not even realized what was wrong with her until a few days before the twins had come. The memory of that horrible event brought a rush of pain behind his eyes. Fear clutched his stomach as he thought perhaps this was some bizarre memory of Sophia and his son, Mark.

  “Meredith? Come out here,” he called to her and dragged the sheet up over his chest. “If you have something to tell me, you’d best get it over with now. I told you already, no more children. No. Absolutely not.” He would not have it. He would not go back. If Sophia stepped out of that door, he would leave this place… the planet and never return. It was too much.

  “You didn’t tell me that.” Ruth stepped out of the bathroom and leaned against the door jamb. “Besides, it is not your decision to make, Lord Adar. You are too late.”

  The illusory sounds that had been only in his imagination faded, along with the open windows, the non-existent breeze and smell of barbeque. The room was almost airless, dark, lit only by one guttering stump of a candle on the dresser next to the withered roses. Thoughts of Sophia and the possibility of even leaving the room faded as reality returned and the fear in his stomach increased when he remembered fully where the images and sounds had come from. He had invented them in his own mind in order to do what he had to do. Protecting Merry Ramsay, Luke Andrew and the others from this grotesque creature from the Beyond. The wine and the chocolate threaten to make an encore appearance.

  “Your little world has many interesting creatures in it,” she commented as she sauntered across the room, unabashedly stark naked, and sat on the edge of the bed. Her false, alabaster skin gleamed with sweat, repulsing him even further. “I made a study of them while I waited on Sabaoth’s whims in Babylon. I believe some of them might have even been my descendents. I saw some very apt varieties living in the very heart of the palace. Hardy examples of what might be your world’s more endearing fellows. Of course, the males did not fare well in the nests I observed. But such is the way of things, Lord Adar. What puny creatures they were. The females did all the work, building the nests, catching the prey, feeding her mate until he was no longer useful, and then, making him useful one last time by feeding on him herself, but I would not do such a thing. You may have more uses than I first suspected.”

  Buying time was one thing, spawning a new race was something all together different.

  Mark stared at her, stricken with horror as vague memories of ancient days before the moon cast shadows on the surface of the earth played through his mind. He remembered when the earth had been shrouded in clouds and the sun’s rays did not pierce the suffocating atmosphere filled with methane, sulfuric acid and various other gases poisonous to the life now flourishing on its surface. He would not participate. He had fought them then, and he would fight them now or be destroyed utterly. He focused his attention on her as he realized she was still talking.

  “We can build a new world here, in this place.” She waved one hand about the darkened room. “The world is melting above us. I have heard this in the depths. Your world is gone, Lord Adar. Here we can make a new start. There is an abundance of food sources in these caves and caverns. When our brood has reached the second feeding cycle, we will move to a higher level. By the time they reach the last stage, we will have transformed this entire complex into our own playground. We can then unleash them in the underworld. When they have cleaned out those wretched creatures living there, it will be time to return to the surface. The air will be purified and the ground bare of the slime of life. We can reach out to the naked stars for sustenance. Nothing can stop us, Lord Adar. The system will be ours. Yours and mine.”

  “You asked if I wanted a boy or a girl,” he asked her in a hoarse whisper.

  “You misunderstood me, my love,” she said and laid down beside him. “I asked if you would rather rule or serve?”

  “Rule or serve. Oh.”

  “You were the one who brought up the children. Our children will be neither male, nor female. They will be perfect in and of themselves as will we.”

  “What about your other children? The ones who were going to eat me for lunch?”

  “We’ll find something else for them.”

  “Now these children of ours,” he swallowed hard and tried to clear his mind “they would be… what would they… would they look like me? Or you?”

  “Oh, no they would look like both of us,” she told him.

  “And these other children… would they not be jealous?”

  “They might be, but it is of no consequence. I will kill them if they cause trouble.”

  “And might I ask whose children they were… are?”

  “They belonged to your servant, the dark angel. The one Sabaoth called General. Do not concern yourself, Lord Adar. They are far inferior to our children. They will be servants to our children. I will see to it.”

  “How many children will we have?” He asked and felt a new round of cold sweat pop out on his forehead.

  “I have never counted a brood before.” She frowned up at him. “Why would you want to know?”

  “I’d like to name them, of course,” he told her and was then appalled when she burst out laughing.

  “That is ridiculous,” she said when she calmed down. “If we name them, they will become independent and think they are important. No, it is better to leave them unnamed.”

  “When can I… when will they come?”

  “Soon.”

  “And if I refuse to join you in your project?” He asked and looked desperately about the room for anything that might be used as a weapon. Only the Djinni’s violin lay within easy reach on the bedside table.

  “Then I will feed you
to the General’s children,” she said without the slightest emotion. “Or,” she touched his chin with one fingernail “I might take you myself.”

  “How long do I have to decide?” He tried to match her tone as if the thought of such an end did not bother him.

  “I will allow you to live until our children are brought to light,” she told him and then raised up again. “Do you have any more wine?”

  “No, we drank it all.”

  “Is there more downstairs?”

  “Perhaps. I’m not sure.”

  “Then won’t you go down and get more for us and if you don’t mind, I would like more music when you return. I have never had music played for my ears alone. I rather liked that, but I did not care for the candy, nor did the flowers seem to add anything significant to the moment. When you return, I would like to hear of the Lords of Undal. I never saw that place.”

  “Undal? In Atlantis?” He was surprised again to learn that she knew of Atlantis.

  “Is there another?”

  “What do you want to know of Undal?” He asked as he climbed out of the bed and searched for his clothes on the floor.

  “I want to know if the Lords of Undal still sit in their chamber.” She eyed him carefully.

  “Atlantis sank beneath the waves eons ago, my pet,” he said. “The Lords sank with her.”

  “You would lie to me?” She asked. “I want to know where the Flower burns, and I want you to take me there. I want to make sure we eliminate the souls in transition. Your dark Lord of Death will relinquish his sanctum or be destroyed.”

  “I’m afraid that is impossible, but we can talk more when I come back.” He zipped his pants and hurried out the door, happy to be free of her presence. He didn’t bother to check the upstairs rooms. She would not have allowed him to go from her sight if she had not secured the entire area to prevent him escaping. And he doubted there was any sort of weapon in the house that might be used against her.