The Book of Daniel

by Mat Ridley

  For a few moments, the demon and I remained locked in this stalemate, and then suddenly there was a crushing sensation across my chest. I looked down, already knowing what I would see, and there it was: the demon’s other hand, squeezing the breath from my lungs and pulling me away from my sword. The strength of its grip was phenomenal. I heard a cracking sound that at first I thought must have been my ribcage giving way, but which I realised later was my armour, buckling like an empty tin can. The tighter it squeezed, the more difficult it became for me to breathe—not that I particularly wanted to, for the stench of the demon was almost as oppressive as its fist.

  I desperately tried to struggle free, but without any kind of leverage, it was impossible. With one last tug, the demon ensured that the sword’s handle was no longer in my grasp, and with it disappeared also my hope. As I was lifted upwards, I was dimly aware of Harper nearby, flailing at the hand that clutched me, yelling something that I couldn’t make out over the sound of the blood in my ears. She hacked at the hand like a lumberjack, flinging bits of demon everywhere, but the twin suns of the monster’s glare remained fixed on me, oblivious to any pain other than that of its unfulfilled desire to devour me. The ineffectiveness of Harper’s rescue attempts became irrelevant when, within seconds, I was hoisted out of her reach and towards the gaping maw that leered at me triumphantly.

  The panorama that met my eyes as I was raised into the air was enough to take away the last of my breath. From my imposed vantage point high above the battlefield, I got a new perspective on the sheer scale of the war raging around me. Countless other people were either ensnared in struggles akin to my own, fighting for their lives or those of their friends, or else ran helter-skelter amongst the insanity, pursued by the stuff of nightmares. The blood-red sky, heavy with soot, was streaked with the trails of the Fallen, all converging on New Jerusalem. One of the three trident-wielding giants I had noticed earlier strode across the battlefield a few hundred metres away, terrifyingly gargantuan even at such distance, kicking its way through friend and foe alike. Given my predicament, I almost envied those at the end of its cloven hoof.

  Beneath me, I could see Harper racing towards the demon’s legs, sword raised, but as I moved closer and closer to its mouth, so my hope of salvation withered. I was now near enough that I could feel the furnace of its breath wash over me, distorting the air with each exhalation. A slavering tongue, like the tentacle of a black octopus, whipped across its jagged teeth, dislodging the bent blade of some unlucky Purgatorian’s sword and sending it tumbling to the distant ground. Echoing dimly over the noise of the battle were the cries of the poor unfortunates already ensnared in the demon’s belly, like children trapped in the bottom of a well; children that very soon I would be joining. Right on cue, the demon raised its hand above its head, dangling me upside down over its mouth like the exquisite morsel it no doubt considered me to be.

  The blood rushed to my head, and for a moment I wavered at the edge of unconsciousness. Considering the fate that awaited me, such nothingness would have been a blessing, but of course, it was a blessing that was denied me. I clearly remember my disgusted resignation that it should have come to this, that God should seemingly have given me a chance at redemption here in Purgatory, only to pull the rug out from under my feet and have me sent to Hell after all. I supposed that I should have been praying for salvation at that point, poised as I was on the cusp of oblivion, but Thomas’s advice was the last thing on my mind; all I could think about was the fact that I would never see Jo again. With that thought, I summoned up the last of my courage, determined that I was not going to go out with a whimper. I wanted Jo, wherever she was, to be proud of me.

  “Come on then, you bastard! Let’s get this over with!”

  The demon was only too happy to oblige. It raised me up higher over the pit of its mouth, and then, suddenly, released its grip.

  I fell.

  Chapter 16

  My head entered into the demon’s mouth, and I thought it was all over. But just at that moment, there was a sharp tug on my ankle, almost dislocating it, and I suddenly felt myself being raised up again. The demon’s teeth slammed shut in front of my nose, close enough that I could see the cracks and chips that undoubtedly came from grinding up countless other less-fortunate souls. I twisted around to look up, and there above me soared an angel, a bright halo of cold blue light blazing from its head, sword held aloft in one hand, my ankle clasped in the other. For a moment, the terrifying thought skittered through my mind that perhaps God was only interested in prolonging my suffering, and that this stay of execution was only momentary, designed to make me pay for all the years I had spent railing against Him. Then, the angel spoke five simple words.

  “Do not be afraid, Daniel.”

  I was surprised to find that that was exactly the effect its words had on me. I had no idea how I was suddenly able to feel so calm, especially in view of the fact that the demon beneath us was already making it very clear that it was not going to give up its meal without a fight. But even as it swatted at us with its hands, I knew I was safe. The ease with which the angel avoided its clumsy blows left me in no doubt, and for every attack the demon made, the angel’s sword made a graceful and precise counterattack. Within moments, flesh hung off of the demon’s arms in bloody rags, and, realising that the tables had turned, the monster panicked and tried to flee. But it was too late. The second that its back was turned, the angel landed on its shoulder, raised its sword high in the air, and thrust it one-handed into the demon’s neck, burying it up to the hilt. The monster collapsed to its knees midstride, with a sound that started out as a roar of pain and finished up a wet gurgle, as a gout of thick black liquid came shooting out of its mouth. With one last effort, it tried to grab at us, and then its hand, my sword still speared through it, collapsed to the ground. The demon was dead.

  There was no opportunity to express my gratitude. The instant the demon died, the angel soared upwards, dragging me with it, still dangling by my ankle. If I’d had a chance to catch my breath, I would have protested against leaving Harper behind. I did the best I could to twist around in the angel’s grasp, trying to look back to see if she was safe, but it was no good; by the time I could do so, we were too far up in the air.

  Higher and higher we flew, weaving between the infrequent blue lights of those undergoing transition, gradually heading towards the battlements on top of New Jerusalem’s walls. Beneath us, other angels swooped to and fro, and beneath them, the tide of battle ebbed and flowed. With the angels’ help, it wasn’t turning into quite the massacre I had first supposed, but Hell’s army stretched as far as the eye could see, even from such a great height. I wondered if, given enough time, the angels would eventually succumb to their ranks. Surely even God Himself wasn’t powerful enough to resist such an overwhelming force.

  “It would be a shame if I had to drop you.”

  I looked up in alarm at the angel, guilt flushing through my system. In all the excitement, I had forgotten that they could read my thoughts.

  The angel’s path took us over the top of the walls, passing right alongside one of the Fallen. It was close enough to touch, if I had been foolish enough to want to do so. The angel easily dodged the demon and began to descend into the city, plunging downwards in a dizzying spiral and coming to an elegant stop just inside the gates, right next to the Forge. I felt momentarily disoriented by the emptiness of the streets, but of course I knew where everybody had gone. Even through the immense thickness of the gates, I could still hear the unsettling sounds of the fray from which I had just been rescued. The angel pointed to the Forge.

  “Go and get yourself another sword, Daniel. Your work is not yet through.”

  “What about Harper? Is she okay?”

  The angel paused for a moment. “She is still here in Purgatory, for now. If you wish to seek her out, you will find it much easier if you are properly armed. Go now.”

  The angel gave me a firm but gentle push towards the
Forge, but I wasn’t quite ready to go yet. “Thanks for rescuing me, by the way.”

  “You do not need to thank me, Daniel. You need to thank God. It was by His will that you were saved.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s for you to figure out. But mercy might have something to do with it.”

  There was something familiar about the angel’s voice, but until that mention of mercy, I hadn’t quite been able to put my finger on it. It all suddenly snapped into place as I remembered his curious toast back at the Last Chance. “Thomas? Is that you?”

  The angel sighed and dropped its lofty pretence. “Yes, it is. But I don’t have time to stand here chatting with you now, however nice that would be,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall the torrent of questions he could sense were coming. “I have to get back to the battle. There are plenty of other people out there who need saving just as badly as you did. And some of them won’t get rescued by the angels anymore, so you need to get back out there, too, Dan. Maybe you can help them instead.”

  Thomas prepared to take off again, but swivelled his shiny new head to look back over his shoulder before he did so. “Say hello to Harper for me. And don’t forget to keep praying. I know you think it didn’t make a blind bit of difference, but it’s good that you’re trying.”

  He sprang into the air and flew gracefully towards the top of the city walls.

  “Wait! Thomas! Don’t go!”

  “Take care, Dan,” he called back. “Try to make sure that the next time I see you it’s up in Heaven, rather than with another demon about to eat you, eh? It would be a shame if we never got to reminisce with each other about our time in Purgatory over a drink one day.”

  And with a salute, he was gone.

  I ran into the Forge and quickly obtained a replacement sword. It wasn’t that I was in any desperate rush to put my immortal soul on the line again, but like Thomas said, I wasn’t going to be much use to anyone unarmed, including myself. The hand that picked up the sword was surprisingly steady considering what I had just gone through. I guess that was partly because I was trying to focus more on Harper’s wellbeing than on the horrors that waited for me outside New Jerusalem. But it wasn’t only Harper that occupied my mind; I was also mulling over what my rescue actually meant in the grand scheme of things. The fact that God had sent Thomas to rescue me was quite something. It was the first time I had actually experienced first-hand what Jo would constantly say: that God did care for me, even in spite of the way I felt towards Him. On the other hand, if it wasn’t for God’s doing, I wouldn’t have been dangling over a demon’s mouth in the first place. What was I supposed to make of it all?

  My feelings towards God in light of my rescue warred against each other as vigorously as the two armies that clashed outside the city. Only about one thing was I crystal clear, and that was that I had to get back out there and find Harper. But as soon as I stepped out of the Forge, I came to a sudden halt as I was struck by a new challenge: how exactly was I supposed to join the battle again if the city gates were closed? As if to answer my question, the gates suddenly rumbled into life. For an instant, I thought they were opening purely for my benefit, but the piercing sound of the angels’ trumpets once again filled the air, and I realised—not without a certain degree of relief—that curfew was about to come into effect.

  As soon as the gap between the gates was large enough, the Purgatorians came flooding back into the city again. I focussed my attention on the thousands of faces that streamed past, searching for Harper amongst them. After what seemed like an age, I eventually saw her, marching purposefully through the crowd almost as if it wasn’t there. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but she quickly turned her head towards me when I called out to her. For a moment, there was a flicker of a smile on her face, but by the time she had made her way over to me, she had regained her cool composure.

  “There you are,” she said. “I turn my back for five seconds and you run off. Where’d you go?”

  “There was a lunch engagement I wanted to avoid.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. It’s a good thing that angel came along when it did.”

  “Not just any old angel, either. That was Thomas.”

  She laughed with delight. “Damn! They didn’t waste any time polishing him up, did they? Did he say anything?”

  “Not much. He didn’t seem much like his old self… but that’s not entirely surprising, I suppose. He told me not to forget to say my prayers. Oh, and he said to say hello to you, too.”

  “Well, I’m glad he was able to pass such great insights on to us. We’ll be out of here in no time with his help.” There was no malice behind her sarcasm, and it was a great relief to see her getting back to what I assumed was her usual self. She sighed. “But I’m glad he’s okay. Good old Thomas.”

  We were silent for a moment, watching the seemingly never-ending throng of people heading back into the safety of the city. I thought Harper was reflecting on Thomas’s fate, so I was caught off guard when next she spoke.

  “Sorry I lost your medallion, Dan.”

  “That’s okay. You saved my life out there. Fair exchange.”

  “Nonetheless, I know it meant a lot to you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She must have been very special, Dan. Your mother, I mean.”

  “You’re right, she was. Look, it’s a long story, and I sure as hell could use a drink after all that’s just happened. How about we get back to the pub and I’ll tell you all about it?” A dark look crossed her face, and I held up my hands. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking you out on a date or anything like that. I’m a happily married man, or at least will be as soon as I can find my wife again.”

  “So you say. But for all I know, maybe the reason you’re stuck here in Purgatory is because you cheated on your wife.” She waved her hand disdainfully at the other soldiers around us. “You’d be surprised at just how many of this lot are here for exactly that reason.”

  “It’s nothing like that, Harper, believe me. I just thought you might like to make a friend, that’s all, because unless I miss my guess, Thomas was your last one in this damned place. If you want to go it alone, feel free.” I started to walk off, pushing my way into the crowd. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”

  There was a slight pause, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d been too hard. Even though I barely knew her, I felt a connection with Harper, just like I had with Thomas, and I didn’t want to lose contact with her. If I had, things would have turned out a lot differently, that’s for sure… or maybe they wouldn’t. I don’t know. Either way, I was hugely relieved when she called out after me a couple of seconds later.

  “Dan, wait! I’m sorry. I… I’m not a very trusting person. Especially when it comes to men.”

  “It’s alright. I understand. Come on, let’s go. You can tell me about it on the way. If you like.”

  She didn’t that day, and I didn’t press her. But our return to the Last Chance completed the pattern that was to describe my days in Purgatory from then on: switching between the pub and the battlefield, either fighting for my life—or someone else’s—or else reflecting on my fortunes. Without sleep, I quickly lost track of time, the alternating sessions of combat and contemplation blurring together like the windows of a rapidly accelerating train.

  For my first few forays out of the city, I was hopelessly out of my depth, despite all the expert swordsmanship I had apparently been blessed with. A demon I stabbed would lope off with my sword sticking out of it, leaving me to face its peers unarmed, or I would be so busy fending off one demon that I wouldn’t notice another looming behind me until it was too late. Every time, I was saved by an angel, and usually at the last possible moment, meaning that I had plenty to think about when I was safe once again. And at first, it worked; there’s nothing like having a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth removed from around your head to make you grateful you’re alive, and I even managed to force out the occasional prayer of tha
nks. But as I lost count of how many times I had been rescued, the novelty wore off, and, incredibly, I almost began to feel blasé about my time on the battlefield. The feeling of near invulnerability that came from frequent rescue made me bolder, reckless even, until one day, I actually managed to kill a demon for the first time. Granted, it was only a small one, and by the time I had finished it off, I was already in need of rescuing from its comrades, but nonetheless, it marked a significant turning point in my time in Purgatory.

  It wasn’t long after this minor victory that I killed another demon, and then another. I began to keep score, scratching a mark into the armour on my left arm for each one that I killed. Tradition would have it that I keep score on the handle of my sword instead, but I was still losing swords fairly regularly; I was hoping that I would find it a little easier to keep hold of my arm. With each kill, my confidence grew, and as it did, the initial recovery that my faith had undergone began to fade a little. Every time my sword and I proved that we were able to cope with whatever Hell had to throw against us, the feeling of dependence on God to bail me out weakened. Don’t get me wrong, the angels were still saving my arse on a regular basis, but they were doing so less and less frequently. And on top of that, it was difficult to maintain a grateful attitude towards something that had become a part of daily life. It was like I had often said to Jo: I understood that Christians were grateful to God for sending Jesus to save them from their sins, but exactly how many times did they have to say ‘thank you’ for that single act?

  Yet even as my battlefield reliance on God waned, so my mental struggle with Him increased. I knew that, logically, the only way out of Purgatory was to repair my relationship with Him—but there were too many obstacles between that logic and a genuine change of heart. No matter how often I was saved, or which way I turned things over in my mind, I simply couldn’t feel the love that I was supposed to feel towards this distant entity that had been a source of hurt for so long. There was no sign of communication from On High, either. Despite Thomas’s advice, prayer didn’t seem to help, even though I continued to try; after all, if praying was one of the tools at my disposal to try to patch things up with God and get back to Jo, I was certainly going to persevere with it. I tried to talk it through with Harper over a beer at the Last Chance one day, but she was just as stuck as I was.