‘It’s time to stop!’ Exclaimed Celeste, who, in the maelstrom had brought through the large mirror, with its velvet cover, to rest flat against a wall of the room before she tore the velvet away, ‘this needs to come to an end. Enough Lucia, ENOUGH.’
‘What are you doing?’ said Lucia, with blood stained teeth, as she glanced at Celeste: her attention divided.
‘I’ve summoned him’ said Celeste shaking, ‘I’ve done it… I’ve called the dark one' she whispered.
Arcangela’s mouth dropped open, and clarity came to the Professors mind. Lucia dropped the Golem from the air, where she tumbled to the ground with a thud, to turn on Celeste, but too late; the temperature then plummeted in the room as the glass of the mirror grew dark. ‘What have you done you fool?’ spat Lucia, her hot breath clouding the air, as the Golem spluttered for breath on the ground.
‘This has to stop, Lucia, all of this has to stop. I’ve had enough, we've all had enough’ said Celeste, shaking from head to foot.
‘You imbecile…’ shouted Lucia, before she moved in Celeste’s direction to hurl more abuse when the long leg of what looked like a man began to step through the mirror.
A sound of crackling static filled the air, and everyone heard ringing in their ears. All present saw their breath rise in front of their eyes, and Arcangela shivered as the temperature dipped below minus. The Professor felt his blood become almost as cold as the air as the figure of a very tall man stepped through the mirror and into the vaulted room. His presence seemed to fill the place from wall to wall with foreboding. ‘How could you invite him here? HERE of all places… you half-wit’ hissed Lucia.
The Professor turned to look behind him, and realised, beyond all doubt, that the towering Priest like figure that stood in the room, was the one he had seen at the Sabbat with his ivory skinned companions.
He stood, his head almost reaching the ceiling, and straightened his long dark robes after stooping through the mirror frame.
‘Diana-Lucia’ he said in a weighty, smooth, and sensuous voice, ‘that’s no way to speak to an invited guest…’ His voice vibrated through all their bodies.
‘I didn’t invoke you, Dark Prince, and you’re not welcome here - you can NEVER be welcome here’ said the wild-haired Lucia, so filled with adrenalin and rage that not a shred of fear inhabited her body. The Devil’s cat's eyes took on a yellow glow. He then squinted before he spoke, his slashed pupils menacing.
‘That’s what most interests me about you Diana-Lucia: not a crumb of fear in front of me. However, your dominion in this place is over - it belongs to me now.'
‘NEVER’ blasted Lucia, but the Devil let out a rumbling laugh,
‘Too late, too late, my dear’ he said, ‘the rites have been performed’ he added before he pointed a long elegant white hand in the direction of Celeste, and the prostrate Golem. ‘They, together, have seen to it, I cannot be removed from here: this is MY house now.’ The Professor shivered in the cold, his silken robe no match for the chill, and his stomach wrenched as he took in the scene. The Devil’s thick black hair fell in waves to his broad shoulders. The Professor studied his angular features, and would have called the bearded entity handsome were it not for his sinister probing eyes, and the unmistakable feeling of evil about him.
The Professor had not pondered God much after his mother died, and even less about the concept of the Devil, but he struggled to control the terror that had begun to rise inside him when he realised that every atom in his body told him what he saw. ‘It’s over’ said Celeste stepping forward, ‘pack your things and get out.' The Devil laughed.
‘Not so fast, Celeste’ said the entity, with a calm gesture that lifted his dark robes, ‘I must ask her if she consents’, Celeste nodded, and dipped her head,
‘As you wish, my Lord and Master’ she said. Lucia’s face trembled with emotion, and Arcangela bit her lip while she looked at the ground unable to maintain eye contact with anyone. Bile rose in Lucia’s throat, but she choked it down before she addressed Celeste.
‘You whore’ she said, ‘damn you for what you’ve done. As long as I draw breath, I’ll never forgive you - never.’ Celeste raised her chin, tears rose in her eyes, but her face looked hard as Stella groaned on the floor.
‘I’ll never need your forgiveness, and I no longer need your love. I no longer need YOU anymore’, said Celeste. A silence fell. Celeste stood firm and resolute.
‘Well said’ the Devil purred, and clapped his applause with his long white hands. ‘Diana-Lucia’ he said, and turned his attention to the bedraggled sorceress, ‘do you accept me as your master?’ The Professor risked a glance at Lucia, her bottom lip trembling as she scanned her room as if to absorb every detail. She closed her eyes for a moment, and threw her head back to take a deep breath,
‘As I said to you, Dark Prince, at the Sabbat and I repeat: “I may have come here for business, but I don’t do deals with the Devil.”’ Lucia then pointed to Celeste and Stella, ‘so you can take those two bitches with you when you go back to hell.’ The Devil’s eyes flashed an amber gold at her defiant words. He crossed his long arms and inspected Lucia for a long time. Then he then lunged forward with his hands outstretched and sharp teeth bared, and the Professor caught his breath. But Lucia did not flinch, even when her matted hair lifted with the onrush in the chilled air, as the Devil towered over her like a dark phantom with his blue-white skin. His eyes burned brighter than the candles as he glared at her, arms out wide as if to strike.
Lucia, implacable, stared him down. The Devil paused, and then folded his arms like delicate wings before he laughed again, longer and deeper than before: the Professor felt the laughter ripple through his diaphragm. ‘It’s a great loss, we could have done much together, Diana-Lucia, but there’s no place for you here - time to pack your things and go.’
‘That’s right’ spat Celeste, ‘get out, GET OUT!’ Her voice rent the cold air, and Lucia stiffened, she had never once heard the plain witch raise her voice so loud. Celeste’s eyes began to take on a yellow glow like the Devil’s.
The Professor looked around the room to remind himself where the doors were before the Devil fixed him with a penetrating stare till the slit pupils of his eyes rounded to circles of empty black, his yellow iris’ gave off a neon glow: ‘and what of you, Atheist?’ He said, and turned to Celeste with an aside, ‘some of my favourites by the way: no faith, no protection, and so easily swayed. They don’t even think I exist.’ Celeste smiled and nodded, as her eyes glowed brighter than before. Lucia did not recognise the woman that stood some way from her. The Devil addressed the Professor again: ‘Atheist-Professor, do you wish to stay here with us?’ Lucia spun to look at him. The Professor shook his head with violence,
‘I've no wish to stay’ he said the with all the courage he could muster.
‘Then LEAVE us’ bellowed the Devil in a mighty voice that shook the furnishings, ‘and thank your stars for the silver touch given to you; without it, I would have had you: mind, body, and soul.’
The Professor stood, snatching glances at a forlorn Lucia, a Celeste in possession and a troubled Arcangela as the Golem struggled upward from the floor. With shallow breaths the Professor changed out of his silken robe with haste to pull on his civilian clothes that were left on the bed, not caring who saw his brief moment of nakedness. He was mindful to keep his illustration of the Soul-lantern and tucked the folded image into his pocket before he checked himself for money and essentials. He made to leave. Lucia turned her face to the Professor, her eyes welling up, as he neared the door before she mouthed: ‘forgive me.’ The Professor understood her words and gave a slow blink of acknowledgement. The Devil and Celeste laughed out loud as he pulled open the door. Winston paused before looking back, and turned to address the Devil:
‘A man, or woman, may not believe in God, or Gods, but they can still do the right things - I've seen and believed more than I could ever imagine, but in my opinion, you're overrated’ scoffed the Professo
r, before he walked out the door. The Devil and Celeste growled in unison. When Winston reached the quiet street outside, his heart pounded. After exiting the front gate, he walked up the hill as fast as he could.
‘So your friend has left you Diana-Lucia, and it’s time you went too’ said the Devil with relish. Lucia looked to Arcangela, her face bereft,
‘Come with me' she said. The little witch hesitated, as Celeste widened her glowing eyes at her. Arcangela looked up to the Devil, his lips curled into a half smile, and then over to Stella, who struggled to the shoulder of Celeste, and weighed her options as her expression clouded. ‘Please’ said Lucia stepping forward, ‘please Arcangela, I beg you.’ The little witch’s eyes welled with tears in her shrunken face, and she made a half step towards Lucia. But the Devil blocked her progress with his long arm and touched Arcangela’s shoulder in the freezing air. In that instant, the wood in the hearth sprang back to life, and any unlit candles ignited in their holders. The Devil used his hand to guide the little witch to the mirror where she saw a reflection of her young self: bathed in candle light.
She caught her breath and walked closer to the large mirror to inspect her image.
Looking at her reflection the old woman raised youthful hands to her pretty round face, that looked even better than when she was in the full flower of her youth. Arcangela drew off her wimple and ran her fingers through her tousled long hair, which bounced again around her shoulders. Arcangela, without hesitation, then tugged off her clothes. Lucia saw a withered crone, with grey balding hair, her flesh in a state of collapse, gazing, awestruck at the young reflection of herself - admiring her extra loveliness in the long mirror. Lucia’s mouth trembled when Arcangela looked up to the Devil with questioning eyes. ‘Youth is not everything’ yelled Lucia, ‘we all grow old – there’s no shame in it’ gasped Lucia, desperate not to lose whom she considered her ally and friend. Arcangela glanced back to Lucia and then the Devil again.
‘Forever’ he said, with a graceful gesture and jaunty smile. Arcangela looked back at the ragged Lucia, and then looked back at herself: the smoothest, and prettiest she had ever been in her long life. The little witch made a prodding gesture upwards with her finger. The Devil smirked, turned his wrist above Arcangela and her reflection grew four inches taller.
Arcangela turned away from her stunning reflection to give Lucia a long look. She cast her eyes down before she shook her head. Tears then tumbled down Lucia's face before Arcangela turned, and pressed forward to kiss her reflection. In that instant, the witch matched her image, and her eyes took on an amber glow as she stared at herself. Lucia tore the air with a howl of anguish: ‘NO, how could you? How could you betray me like this? After all that I've done for you,’ Lucia sobbed. 'The nuns' she added, 'what about the nuns?’ But Arcangela said nothing, admiring her reflection, and ran her hands over her new flawless body: caressing and idolising herself. Then Arcangela, turning herself around, once satisfied in all that she saw, sauntered to the side of Celeste who grinned like someone who had lost their mind: her eyes glittering with gleeful spite and revenge.
Lucia sobbed as Stella then limped to the side of the Devil before addressing her: ‘get out’ she said in a hoarse voice, ‘it’s over: I’m the Abbess here now. Make a swag and take your leave.’
Lucia looked around herself in desperation, but the troupe presented a united front. Crestfallen, Lucia moved like a ghost through her own bedchamber. She, ignoring all present, then picked up the velvet that had fallen from the mirror and drifted into the side room as the Devil and the others looked on. She then changed into warmer clothes. Lucia went to the shelf in the corner and took up the wooden box there wrapped in starry fabric, and placed it, with care, in the centre of the velvet. She then picked up her crystal ball, wrapping it in its fabric, a deck of her favourite tarot cards, and a leather bag of money she kept on the side and put them all in the velvet too.
Lucia wafted back into the room with her possessions where all three demonesses: Stella, Celeste, and Arcangela glared at her. Lucia rejected them all as she laid her swag on the table and reached up for the book of Hekate, which leapt into her hands, and accepted the prophecy the Goddess had given her. Lucia took up a comb before she opened the chest with iron trappings to take out her witch’s unguent: the others would have no need for it anymore. She then packed her silver scythe, and dagger and tried to tie her ungainly swag with a knot.
'Just take it all' said Celeste conjuring wheels and a handle onto the box with iron trappings with a waft of her hand: delighting in her new powers. Lucia obeyed and placed all her belongings inside and wheeled the chest to the door. Celeste then let fly with a triumphant laugh, cackling at the top of her voice until she held her ribs with her efforts.
Lucia paused to look at the crazed demoness, ‘you’re a fool' she said, 'take your poor substitute for me but know that the Golem and I are the same in another aspect: she’ll never love you, but you can both rot in hell together.’
Lucia ignored the laughter that erupted from the demonic foursome, cursing the stupidity of Arcangela and Celeste under her breath. Lucia left slamming the door behind her to silence the noise. She dreaded what would happen to the nuns now they were under the Devil's influence, but she didn’t dwell long on the idea: a few would embrace it, some would not notice, but most of the pious would fight with all their faith. 'Let the angels keep them' he whispered under her breath. Lucia could rebuild and begin a new life - she had done so once before - and she would do so again. She would find the Professor and the others later: and she could find the Hermeporta for herself.
Lucia: battered, beaten, and defeated exited the convent that night, slipping out into the dark, with her body pained but her spirit defiant.
As she limped away, she formed her plan to begin her journey north - north to renewal, north to freedom, north to Venice.
END OF BOOK 1
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hogarth is an artist as well as an author and still paints commissioned portraits when he has the time, and has had many art exhibitions. He studied Graphic Design at Camberwell College of Art after completing his Foundation course at the same art school. The author is particularly fond of illuminated manuscripts and has ambitions to develop his writing in this creative direction. Hogarth, before and during his years of writing his first book, has had a very close association with Kings Place, an arts and concert venue based in London’s vibrant King’s Cross area, which has provided significant inspiration for his creative work: where music and live performance has influenced his writing in particular.
Hogarth is based in London, and has begun the development of the next book in the Hermeporta series. The second book in the series is complete and will be available soon.
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Thank you so much for taking the time to read The Hermeporta Beyond the Gates of Hermes, Hogarth would love to hear from you.
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