by Sating, Paul
Beelzebub's mouth opened as if he was going to snap a response and then he clamped it shut, deferring to Michael.
The lanky lead Council member's eyes tried to bore into my head. This was their chamber, the one place in Hell where even thoughts were not safe. I needed to be careful but not completely protective; my thoughts would reveal the absolute truth to combat their subjective one.
A warmth against my leg distracted me, the pant leg inside the mortal military uniform where Creed was sewn. The distraction pulled me away from worrying about how deep the Founder's could extend into my mind. I tried to concentrate, feeling Michael rooting around in the folds of gray matter inside my skull—something I felt but never distinguished during my previous visits. The heat coming from the halberd increased. Burning. Like Creed was lit afire. Michael's prying slipped, regained a hold. Creed burned hotter, making me fidget to pull the heated material away from my skin. Michael's grasp slipped again, this time completely.
His squinting eyes widened, and his mustache and beard twitched, but he straightened, covering his loss. Creed had blocked his access to my mind.
"It has come to our attention that during a recent …" he paused, and his eyes flicked, less than pleased, in Seraph's direction. He continued, "A recent discussion you had with a Council member, in which you made blasphemous statements against Lucifer."
My mind scrambled back to that conversation, attempting to decipher the connections between what I said to Seraph in the heat of the moment when she threatened me under a listening ward. What happened then that matched Michael's claims?
Nothing. There was nothing blasphemous—Lucifer, how I hated giving credence to such a ridiculous concept—about what I said. If anything criminal happened, it came from the Founder, not me.
"I wasn't blasphemous," I said, allowing the heat to rise in my voice. "And considering the context of the conversation—"
Before I said another word, I was cut off again, this time by Seraph herself. Her aqua blue eyes as hard as stone. "I have already provided testimony to the Council about your statements and they have been accepted. The contents of our conversation aren't what is being put on trial, Mr. Sunstone. Your blasphemy is."
Convenient, I thought. With an icy tone, I said, "I didn't blaspheme."
"So you plead not guilty?" Apopis said, the 's' remnant of his words elongated. He wore a stupid smirk on his slender, half-tattooed face.
"You still haven't told me what real charges you have against me, so I refuse to enter a plea."
Michael's voice was flat, calm. "Unfortunately, Mr. Sunstone, you cannot refuse to enter a plea. If you don't enter one, the Council will enter one for you. You remember Gemini's trial?"
Was that a threat? Veiled though it seemed, threats were threats no matter how they were dressed.
"How is this justice?" The harsh question came from behind me. Bilba.
Beelzebub sat back, crossing his muscular arms. His thick lips pulled up in a snarl. "Mr. Ravenous, let me remind you that, as a character witness, you are denied from contributing to these proceedings until we call you. If you cannot comply, a silencing spell will be cast to assist you in the matter."
Light shuffling of feet from behind faded. Bilba acquiesced. I loosed a shaking breath; there was no reason for any of my friends to go down with me.
"Then I enter a plea of not guilty, since nothing I said was blasphemous, because we did not even discuss Lucifer. And, as far as the Council is concerned, what I said about you was accurate."
Michael nodded. Apopis and Beelzebub smirked.
"Seraph has already provided her testimony," Michael replied as if it explained everything.
"I wasn't there for it. How do I know what she claimed," I said.
"She is a member of Lucifer's Third Council," Apopis hissed, leaning forward. "It is inappropriate for someone of your station to hear her testimony. Besides, we do not need to recall the things you said about our Lord. Consider yourself cursed to even be given this chance by the Council. It proves His graciousness that He has allowed this, after the words you have spoken against him."
"I didn't say anything!" My voice echoed around the chamber.
"This petulance and disregard for Council proceedings will not be tolerated," Apopis spat.
Five pairs of hard eyes stared down from the large jade table atop the riser. There were no friends in this room beside the four behind me and the two demons relegated to watching from the far corner.
"Call your character witnesses, Mr. Sunstone," Azazel said.
So I did, and the proceedings continued. One after another, starting with Ralrek, then Bilba, with Dialphio following him, and ending with Cancer. The group of demons who rallied to my side each stepped forward and defended my case—defended me—to the Council. Never had I felt valued like this.
The most intriguing was when Cancer stood before the Council. Her eyes, though she spoke to every Founder, firmly locked on Seraph. She defended me and my actions with grace and an air of confidence I would have never found myself. She was courageous in the face of covert hostility from one of the most powerful demons in Hell. And she was here because of that courage and the fact that Bilba pushed me to defend myself and ask for her help.
Everything the four of them said in testimony was the truth, without embellishment or hyperbole. They described me, my attributes, complements, and blemishes, without apology or rationalization. The Council listened. I expected no favors, and they afforded none. There was no sign or reaction, no change of perception after my four character witnesses gave their last testimony.
After that stage, Michael conferred quietly with the other four members before sitting straighter and facing me. "The evidence presented, the defendant has had his character witnesses attest for him. We will now move on to the verdict."
The verdict? Was this done now, so quickly? Was this the end of it? The Council moved so slowly on other matters, yet they were dispensing with this case within a lunch meal?
I looked over to my parents. My mother wrang her hands, her lips pressed together but her jaw moving as if she was speaking to herself. My father leaned against the wall, his hands clasped in front of him. He was as unreadable as ever.
"Lucifer's First Council established the punishment for blasphemy," Michael announced in solid formality to the nearly empty room. "And that punishment is Abandonment in the Overworld."
I could have heard a fairy drop across the chamber as still as the room was at the announcement.
They were moving forward with this charge of blasphemy, set to determine my fate for a crime I did not commit. How could justice come by taking the word of Seraph over my testimony and that of four other demons—two of whom who had served this very Council's mission numerous times? It was as if the words of my four friends did not matter, as if I'd wasted their time, so unheard was their testimony. As if the Council had decided my fate before we stepped into Hell.
A yelp, like a small animal crying, sounded from the side of the room. My mother.
Abandonment in the Overworld.
"We will now vote on the verdict," Michael continued as if reading instructions on how to assemble a desk. "The verdict will be determined by a simple majority. Members, you will vote with either an aye or nay. Ayes for Abandonment. Nays against Abandonment." Michael's eyes fell from mine to my hip where I hid Creed. Something flashed in his eyes. Fear? Desire? "My vote is nay."
I nodded, not sure if the gesture was appropriate or not, and not caring. I was just grateful for it.
"Beelzebub?"
"Aye," he said simply, too simply, like he'd put no thought into my condemnation. I wasn't shocked, not from someone who still held a grudge because I didn't help him kill an innocent demon trying to bring joy and happiness to mortals.
One to one.
The room got hotter, and not from Creed burning in my pocket.
"Apopis?"
Shock is not something I expected or experienced when Apopis said, "Aye."
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One to two.
I was losing my fight to stay in Hell, losing my right to be a demon. Thankfully, two votes remained, and I was confident Azazel would come through. Azazel was levelheaded. Seraph was a mystery. She was protecting her family. This all started because of her selfish desires. But she was also the Founder who made sure I had a few moments with Cassie before the angel disappeared back to wherever angels go when they're not in Heaven. If not for Seraph's efforts, I would not have had angelic confirmation about the nature of Creed and One.
Still, she had pushed for this. She had provided testimony in secret to the rest of the Council that pushed proceedings forward. Friend or foe?
Abandonment in the Overworld was as serious an issue for a demon as any. When was the last time anyone was Abandoned? It was a tale of terror parents used to straighten out wayward imps. Abandonment had been my father's soapbox, not a legitimate punishment. It was something Beelzebub said in frustration during my first mission, not a reality.
"Azazel, how do you vote?"
The oldest scowled. I couldn't swallow until he answered. "This is a travesty. I vote nay."
I released a deep, trembling breath.
Tied again. Two to two.
"Come on," Dialphio growled just loud enough for me to hear.
The vote, my fate, came down to Seraph. Would she put fairness before this outlandish rivalry and mutual hatred between the Vicus and Nijals? Would she see that I'd been trying to help the situation, not instigate anything or even act as the aggressor? Seraph worked with us during the Taurus mission; she knew I had a low flash point at times, but I would have never hurt her nephew unless it was in self-defense, or to defend an innocent. Recent evidence aside, wasn't she rational enough to see past her emotional bias? I was about to find out.
Michael leaned forward to look down the length of the table. "And last, Seraph. Your vote will break the tie. A reminder to everyone; a simple majority dictates the Council's decision. We will not tolerate displays of mortification or outrage. With that being said, your vote, please."
Seraph folded her hands atop the jade table. She leaned in my direction even though five body lengths separated us. The air was sucked from my lungs. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Her mouth opened, and a single word echoed around the chamber for eternity.
18 - Underworld/Overworld
Bilba sat at the foot of my bed. Ralrek at the head. Out in my kitchen, dishes clanked, a haunting, solitary background ambience.
"This isn't the end, Zeke," Bilba pounded a fist into my innocent mattress. "I promise you, everything I do, from now on, will be aimed at fighting this."
"It's not like we can go back to the Army and get distracted by all those hunks," Ralrek said with a wink.
"Being expunged makes you a figment of their imagination," Bilba said. I think it was supposed to be a joke, but it was too level to sound like one. Maybe now that the Overworld was destined to be my future home, forcing these two together, they would work out this issue of Ralrek's attraction to mortals.
I nodded, my head dipped toward my suitcase to hide my shame. I shoved another shirt into its open gullet. How many was I going to need in the Overworld? How was I going to get new clothes up there? A job. I would have to work for a living in the Overworld—which I wasn't afraid of—but how did I start? The money I'd made in the mortal Army wouldn't last long—did I even still have my bank account back in Tacoma now that the Council expunged my existence from that realm?
"This isn't right," Ralrek growled. "But I'm with Bilba. Whatever you need, we'll do it. Even if you don't hear from us for a while, know that we're working on it. I don't quit on friends."
My throat constricted so tight I was surprised air passed through. It took every ounce of energy I had to not cry out. But if there was one thing Kanthor Sunstone taught me, it was that incubi didn't cry. Yet, that's all I wanted to do.
Deciding to test Kanthor's theory, I opened my mouth, hoping to not make a fool of myself. "I appreciate it, guys. But there's nothing you can do. The Council made their decision. The only thing I can do is hope that, after a while at least, they'll reverse it. But I do know one thing," I said, turning and finally facing them. "I don't want you two getting involved and making trouble for yourselves. This isn't your fight. It's mine. And the last thing either of you need, the last thing I need when I'm up there and can't help, is for you to start a fight you'll never win. Please promise me you won't do that."
Bilba and Ralrek shared a look.
"I can't," Bilba announced.
Ralrek was nodding before Bilba finished. "Me either, Zeke. This isn't just your fight."
I gave him a quizzical look.
"Gemini?" Ralrek said in a harsh bark. "I rotted in that prison cell alongside you. I was shamed publicly, standing right by your side. That doesn't sit right with me, it hasn't. How many others have they treated like that over the last thousand years, never mind the last fifty thousand? Do you think we're the first to be used by the Council? We weren't the first and we won't be the last. You're naïve if you think that."
"I don't," I said in a croaking response.
Bilba was off the bed and by my side in an instant. "You're not alone. We can't do anything right now, but we will figure what we can do. Be strong. Be focused. And, I mean this, do not give up hope. We're not abandoning you."
Ralrek slid to my other side, tapping my suitcase. "Did you pack all the demonic notebooks?"
I snorted through the sobs threatening to burst out of my chest. "Yeah. Tons of them."
"Good," he nodded. "You'll need them. We're staying in touch throughout this, so make sure you keep one with you at all times." I smiled and didn't need to be a clairvoyant to know that he recognized it as fake. He rubbed my shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Zeke."
I closed my suitcase lid and latched it. Maybe I was being too sentimental, but closing it was a significant gesture, the severing of a tie.
The three of us looked at it as if it could give insightful guidance. After a long and awkward silence, I said, "You guys want to walk me out?"
"We're walking you to the rift," Ralrek said.
Bilba nodded.
I shook my head. "You don't have to do that. There is no sense in putting yourself in front of the Council if they're there, which wouldn't surprise me."
Ralrek opened my door and headed out, speaking to Bilba. "Can you believe this guy? Thinking he's got a choice in the matter?"
Bilba hefted the suitcase as if showing me some secret prize he'd just won. A comical light in his eyes, he said, "You coming?" And then he left too.
I shook my head, looking around my bedroom one last time. The rush to get rid of me deprived me from seeing my landlord, and that brought a smile to my face. Someone from the Council having to deal with Manes Mezess about my broken lease would be the only form of justice I could ask for.
I joined Bilba and Ralrek at the front entryway. They were trying to be strong, their jaws set. "Let me say goodbye," I said, and they gestured with head tilts that they would wait outside.
"Hey, Mother," I said as I walked into the kitchen. She stood at the sink, her back to the door, washing my dishes. "You don't have to do that."
Without turning, she said, "You can't leave the apartment like this, Ezekial. Let me help."
"The guys are going to take care of everything."
My mother clutched the dishtowel. She spun, and I saw the toll this was taking on her. Red-rimmed eyes, strained veins protruding along her temple, the quivering lips. She looked like the ghost of the demon I knew before I began my service to the Council.
"Please let me do this for you," she said in a voice so frail it was as if she'd aged three millennia overnight. "It's a mother's duty to care for her child. I need to do this. Please let me."
"Okay," I said in a soft voice and held her.
She collapsed against me, sobbing. We stood there as time stood still, mother and son, saying goodbye without speaking a word.
She held on to me. Clutched. Gripped. I moved my hands to hers, and gently, but firmly removed them. "Mother, I have to go."
"I know," she said in a weak voice, those two words trembling so severely they were almost unrecognizable. "I had hoped you would have made peace with your father. We can't change that now, but it is something I will struggle with forever. I love you, Ezekial."
"I love you too," I spun, not wanting to think about my father, and definitely not wanting to see my mother break down. I scrambled for the front door, my throat almost exploding in pain.
There was a thump and the rattling of dishes behind me. I paused long enough to look back into the kitchen to see my mother collapsed against the sink, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. At least she'd waited for me to walk away before revealing the true state of the pain I'd caused.
Bilba and Ralrek waited for me at the street, just as they did outside the one stop I had to make before heading for the rift. I had to say goodbye to the demon who always believed in me, without question or fault; the succubus who never wavered and who helped me see the potential I had.
"Closed?" I asked Dialphio.
She nodded, her hair unkempt, her cheeks flushed, which was easier to see now that she wasn't wearing her typical rose-colored blush. "Call me crazy, but I'm not in the mood to deal with customers today."
"Even book lovers?"
"Even book lovers," she answered without offering at least a sad smile.
"I need to go. If they haven't already, I imagine the Council will send patrols if I'm not at the rift soon. They can be like that."