The Book of Daniel

by Mat Ridley

  “I know now why I was sent here rather than being let straight into Heaven. It’s not because I did anything wrong. It’s because I needed to see for myself first-hand how it is here, how utterly fallen the human race has become. Look at the state of the city around you! It’s hard to believe that this was once a beautiful place, where passage to Heaven was mediated by conversation and prayer rather than violence and misery. But over the centuries, people stopped listening to the word of God and turned away, looking instead to other pleasures to sustain them on their journey through the afterlife. Just like in the Garden of Eden, human nature wasn’t satisfied with what it had been given, and through its greed and selfishness, it ruined this place for everyone.”

  “But it’s not like that. Of course it’s a mess here, but that’s because of the demons, not the humans. Most of the people here are trying their best. Thomas and Harper weren’t acting selfishly when they took us under their wings: they wanted to help us. And I still want to help you, too. Remember what I said to you on that first day we met, about us looking out for each other? I meant it. Come on, give me your hand.”

  I raised one shaky hand towards him, palm up, hoping that some sane part of him would respond. At first I simply thought that he was—understandably—scared to death by what was going on in the city around us. I didn’t realise until too late how wrong I was. As I reached out to him, a sharp look of alarm shot across his face, and he darted forward to administer another blow to my head.

  “No! Get back! You can’t have it. It’s mine!”

  As I fell away from him, I could see his panic subsiding, replaced with a smooth look of pity as cold as if he were observing a beetle stuck on its back with its legs pedalling in the air. My ears rang and I could feel blood coursing down my face.

  “Sorry about that, Dan. That was perhaps too harsh of me. Maybe I’ve got you wrong, and you’re just as much a victim in all this as I was. Let me tell you what else the angel said to me. Then you’ll understand what I’m talking about.

  “You see, on the surface, everything appears just as you describe it. But if you look more closely, you’ll see this place is filled with greed, corruption and lies, rotten to the core. It’s got so bad that the Newborn have scarcely arrived before they’re already being tempted back into selfish ways—ways which lead away from the Lord.” Abraham shot Harper a meaningful look.

  “Up until today, God has tolerated both this and the way His love and generosity have been spurned by the inhabitants of Purgatory; but just like with Sodom and Gomorrah, He has finally run out of patience. It’s time for a fresh start, Dan. What you are witnessing around us is the wrath of God. He has decided to wipe Purgatory out of existence, just like He did with Earth at the time of the Great Flood—only this time it will not be a flood of water, but of demons instead, the embodiment of man’s sinful nature.

  “And it’s not just the humans that are corrupt, either, Dan, no. It’s the angels, too! Why else would they stand by and allow the innocent to perish, or prolong the suffering of those whom they know are destined never to make it into Heaven, saving them repeatedly before finally leaving them to their fate? The angel that rescued me told me that only a few of his brethren are still loyal to God; the rest are only interested in maintaining their position as the rulers of this contaminated place, and that is why they, too, must be made to perish. Don’t you see, Dan? It’s all corrupt. The only way the balance can be restored is for God to start again from scratch, and because He can no longer rely upon the angels to enact His will, He has chosen me to help Him instead! Me!”

  Even around the pain of my beaten head, I recognised the enthusiasm in his voice. It was thick with the taint of religion, and bore the familiar tone of those who wished to evangelise it down other people’s throats. But however odious Abraham’s delivery, it was the words themselves that made my heart sink. “What do you mean?”

  “When the angel saved me, it gave me a gift. A gift directly from God Himself.” He dug around his neck for something, leaving a smear of blood—my blood—on his armour. “Secret words. Words that the angels themselves use to protect them from the demons. Words that allowed me to move freely amongst the instruments of God’s wrath unharmed. He showed me other words, too, written on this amulet, words that no angel or demon can utter, but which when pronounced by a man of faith can tear down walls and strip away the powers that the angels rely on! At the Lord’s command, the corrupt angels are rendered as helpless as the other sinners, and Hell’s soldiers are no longer forced to discriminate. All can be cleansed!”

  I listened to what Abraham was saying, and thought about what I had seen during my frantic rush across the city. I remembered the gruesome sight of the angels skewered on the demon’s hook like rosary beads. I remembered the Last Chance, now nothing more than a pile of blasted rubble, and wondered if it had been wiped clean by the wrath of God just as Abraham said. I thought about the whole of New Jerusalem. Was it possible that the reason it was in such a state of disrepair was because God had been trying to eradicate it all along—and that the only reason any of it still stood at all was because of the protection afforded by a ruling elite of corrupt angels? But Abraham couldn’t be telling the truth, surely? It all seemed so crazy. My head spun, and not just because of the beating it had taken.

  “Here, see for yourself. Behold the words of the Lord!” he said, thrusting a battered amulet into my face.

  At first, I thought I must be hallucinating through the tears that streamed around the remains of my nose, already dutifully crackling back into its usual shape. But as my eyes cleared, it became apparent that I wasn’t imagining it. Impossible as it seemed, the amulet Abraham held was in fact my mother’s old medallion, somehow recovered from the battlefield after it had been torn from Harper’s neck.

  There was no mistaking the old scars that marred Saint George’s image; but now there were other, fresher marks there too—unintelligible symbols scored into the metal, symbols which changed shape as I watched. The medallion danced at the end of its tarnished chain, a mockery of what it had once stood for, and my confusion lifted. I knew then that Abraham wasn’t telling the truth about Purgatory, although no doubt he believed that he was. No, instead, he was being jerked around just as helplessly as the medallion, and had been similarly warped so that only a facsimile of his former self remained. Despite his beliefs, Abraham wasn’t an instrument of God’s will at all. Instead, Satan was playing him like a piano, and Abraham was so entranced by the power of his precious words that he hadn’t paused to consider the consequences of what he was doing.

  Harper obviously agreed with my assessment of the situation. “Abraham, you fool! Haven’t you stopped for a moment to think that this might all just be a trick? God doesn’t judge the wicked like that anymore. I know that in the Old Testament He did, but have you forgotten the message of mercy and forgiveness that comes from the New Testament, that comes from the fact that Purgatory even exists in the first place? You’re so worried about following false prophets, but haven’t you considered the possibility that this angel who told you so much might really have been a demon instead?”

  For a moment, Abraham seemed to boil with as much anger and hate as the very demons that I could hear devouring the city around us. Then suddenly he lashed out, striking Harper in the face and knocking her out cold. Even as she slumped to the ground, Abraham lectured her. “And who are you to say that it wasn’t an angel? What proof do I have that you or anyone else here is exactly what they appear to be? Of course you would try to deflect me from my purpose with your words. Harlot! I have more faith in the angel than I do in you or your friends. He saved me from death, and everything so far has transpired exactly as he said it would!”

  Abraham’s treatment of Harper was the last straw, as far as I was concerned. His crazy words and misguided actions to bring about the downfall of Purgatory were bad enough, but I wasn’t about to sit idly by while he battered my friend around. That at least was an injustice I c
ould do something about. I shook my head to clear it, and even though each shake was accompanied by a fresh wave of pain, I thought that with the element of surprise on my side, I might just be able to hold myself together long enough to take care of this madman.

  As if to endorse my plan, one of the Fallen suddenly ricocheted off of the Temple’s shield and crashed into a nearby building, the spectacle of its arrival providing exactly the distraction I needed—as well as finally verifying that the Temple would indeed provide a safe haven, if any of us ever made it in there. In the instant that Abraham’s attention was diverted, I used all the energy I could muster to shrug off my grogginess and lunge towards him—but unfortunately, he was not as off guard as I had thought. He easily sidestepped my assault, those gauntlets of his finding my head again with uncanny—some might say fiendish—precision. I landed, sprawling, in the dust, my vision doubling.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Dan. I thought you might understand, might even help, but I can see now that you’re just as lost as the rest of them. A pity. Now, lie still and wait your turn. I can only pray for you one at a time before I send your corrupt souls to Hell.”

  Having dispatched me so decisively, he turned his attention back towards Harper. The look of hateful glee on his face reminded me of the cruelty that she had suffered at the hands of her deranged lover back on Earth, and I shuddered at the thought of her having to go through anything like that again. But I was powerless to stop it; I was barely conscious, let alone able to fight Abraham off of her. The best I could hope for was to try to focus his attention back on me once more, and so, with the last of my strength, I wheezed out a single word at his back.

  “Traitor!”

  Even over the noise of the sacking of New Jerusalem he somehow managed to hear me, and spun around, spitting furiously. “No, Dan. No! You don’t understand! I’m no traitor. When the angel first told me what I had to do, that’s exactly what I thought, too, but then he explained it to me. I am not the first person in history who has been asked to do great, seemingly impossible things for the Lord. By helping to destroy Purgatory, I will not be condemned; I will be saved! In Heaven, my name will be held up next to that of Judas Iscariot as one of the great heroes of the faith, not its betrayer. Yes, that’s right: Judas. Like everyone else, you probably think of him as evil, deceitful, the man who sold Jesus to His enemies for a handful of coins. But someone had to hand Jesus over to the Romans, otherwise He would never have been crucified and wouldn’t have died for your sins. In Heaven, Judas is held up as the greatest of the disciples, not the least. God told him what he had to do, and he did it, knowing that it would be more than his human frame could bear and that it would mean his own death; knowing that the other disciples—and all of history—would hate him, but nonetheless prepared to make that sacrifice for the good of mankind. This is what the Lord is calling me to do, too, Dan, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to stop His will from being done!”

  I lay there, Abraham’s words hammering into my frail consciousness, and the last of my urge to fight ebbed away. The situation looked hopeless. There was nothing I could do to help Harper now. The noise of the demons grew louder and closer, so much so that I was afraid to look up for fear of what I might see—had I even had the strength to do so. Abraham had unwittingly sold out the whole of creation, and there seemed to be no way to undo his actions. The apparent ease with which he had sidestepped my best effort to bring him down sapped the last of my energy, and unconsciousness now seemed more welcoming than perilous. Purgatory was beyond redemption, and hope was futile. Even the sanctuary of the Temple was an empty promise, since it might just as well have been on the other side of the city as far as my power to reach it was concerned. All that remained for me was to lay in the dirt, despairing, and await damnation.

  And then suddenly I heard a voice.

  Her voice.

  Jo.

  “Dan. Stand up, Dan. You have always been my protector. Now God is calling on you to be a protector once again. Stand up. Stand up, my love. Have faith and fight.”

  Her words were like the water of life. I had no idea where my strength came from, but suddenly I felt invigorated. I snapped my head up, Jo’s name already forming on my lips and my heart racing… but rather than Jo’s eyes, mine only met with Abraham’s instead. Nevertheless, her communication, even as brief as it had been, galvanised me into action. I knew what I had to do, what she wanted me to do, what God wanted me to do. The fact that Purgatory was lost didn’t alter the fact that at that moment, Harper—my friend—was in danger, and I was suddenly back in some kind of position to help her out. To Hell with the rest of Purgatory; that wasn’t my mess to fix, and Jo’s words had not given me that much power. But if I could save Harper, even if we were overrun by demons within seconds of my freeing her from Abraham’s clutches, I could at least die knowing I had done the right thing. WWJD.

  At the sight of me struggling to my feet, Abraham turned his attention away from Harper. “It’s no good trying to stop me, Dan. Just give up. The words of power might not work against you, but I know that the Lord will not allow you to defeat His purpose! I am strong. I must not allow the unworthy to enter the Temple. I must stand guard at the gates of Heaven and use the power I have been given to ward off the demons and the sinners. You cannot enter!”

  I spat out a tooth and some words. “You just don’t get it, do you, Abraham? I’m not trying to stop you or your damned incineration of Purgatory. That’s God’s job to do, not mine, and good luck to Him. I’m not trying to get past you and into Heaven, either. But I’m not just going to sit here twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the four fucking horsemen to turn up. And do you know why? Because of what you’ve just done to Harper. Quite apart from the fact that I’m not going to let you get away with hitting her like that, you’ve also just deprived her of the last chance she might have had to make her peace with God. She deserves that chance, and I’m going to do my best to give it back to her. I’m going to get her into that Temple, and you’re not going to be able to stop me.”

  I finally made it back onto my feet, although whether my ability to do so was down to the revitalising effects of Jo’s words or because of my body’s natural restorative powers, I don’t know. Abraham’s look was half-amused, half-surprised.

  “Dan, she’s had all the chances she needed. It’s too late for her now, and too late for you, too. Can’t you see judgement approaching?” He waved his arms towards the demons nearing the edges of the plaza, and I risked a quick look. I wished I hadn’t. “Your chance for salvation has passed, Dan. I can see that, and the look in your eyes tells me that you know it, too. But if you insist, I’d be happy to be the one to send you on your way to eternal damnation.”

  Time was running out. It was clear that there was no reasoning with Abraham, and that to try to persuade him to let me take Harper inside in peace was just a waste of what little time did remain. And with that realisation, I knew that the time for talking was through.

  I lurched towards Abraham, my bare fists balled up and ready to strike. I wished I still had my sword. Like Jack, I found myself somewhat unsettled without a blade in my hand—although I wasn’t quite so unsettled as to start giving mine a name and talking to it. But if I was beginning to think that much like Jack, maybe it was a good thing that my time in Purgatory was coming to an end. I felt quite calm about the fact that I would likely be dead and damned within the next few minutes. Perhaps that idea had lost its shock value earlier, when I’d been so full of despair that I had tried to take my own life. Whatever it was, the pain that travelled up my arm as my fist connected with Abraham’s chest seemed distant somehow, almost as if the arm belonged to someone else. Which, thinking about it, I suppose it did.

  Unsurprisingly, my punch had about as much of an effect as a baseball bat hitting a tank. But the ferocity with which I had launched myself at Abraham carried me forwards, and as I continued to rain the blows down on him, his balance grew less and less steady
. One of his knees buckled under my onslaught, and for one crazy moment, I thought that was it. Victory.

  Of course, nothing in Purgatory was that easy.

  Realising that the fight to maintain his balance was lost, Abraham instead chose to roll with his fall, and both of us tipped over into the dirt. We thrashed about, each of us hoping to regain his footing ahead of his opponent, but it was clear that Abraham had the advantage. His gauntlets pummelled and tore at my armour and body, relentless, raining down on me like the Fallen descending on New Jerusalem, whereas with every blow I landed on him, my bare fists screamed louder and louder in protest, freely weeping blood. I knew I had to get clear of him, not just because I was outclassed, but because time was very much on his side. All he had to do was keep me occupied for a little bit longer, and it would all be over for Harper and me. But how could I break free?

  Suddenly, it hit me—literally. There was a searing pain across my cheek as Abraham rammed home another blow, but as he pulled back his fist to punch me again, I noticed the medallion still clutched in his hand, its chain knotted around his fingers. Before he had a chance to stop me, I grabbed for the medallion, ripping it from his hand—but by then my fingers were so crippled that I was unable to hold on to it myself, and the amulet spun away through the air. Abraham’s eyes widened in horror the instant it left his grasp, and he suddenly lost interest in trying to kill me, scrambling after his precious talisman instead.

  I was only too happy to let him go. I could feel my body’s repair mechanisms struggling to keep up with Abraham’s attacks, especially after what they had already been put through that day. I knew I couldn’t take much more punishment, but I kept telling myself that all I had to do was get Harper up those stairs and somehow everything would be alright. I clenched my remaining teeth together and somehow managed to get to my feet again. Leaving Abraham preoccupied and scrabbling around in the dust, I staggered over to where Harper was slowly regaining consciousness.