by Alex Bell
Why did I care so much about the answer? What did I want from Stephomi? Reassurance. I wanted him to tell me that Lilith somehow managed to put the misery of the past behind her. That she somehow managed to forgive men and angels for the great wrong they had done her.
Stephomi hesitated a moment before answering me, ‘Yes, I’ve seen her.’
‘Where?’
‘By the sea. She haunts sea-caves. Beaches are places of the In Between - where land meets ocean. When God sent angels to destroy her children . . . she wasn’t able to save them all. There were too many defenceless babies and too many self-righteous, avenging angels with large swords. She’s still haunted by that.’
‘What does she look like?’
‘Why the sudden interest, Gabriel? Yesterday you were quite adamant that she didn’t exist at all, that she was a myth. Because angels do not slaughter children, do they?’
I fell silent, not quite sure myself what it was about Lilith’s story that had so affected me. ‘Is she really a lascivious Temptress who comes in under the cover of night to seduce holy men in their sleep?’
‘Ah, now, Gabriel, you’re asking me questions that I can’t answer. Although, just a passing thought . . . If Lilith did entertain fierce, passionate demonic lovers for so many years in her cave by the sea, don’t you think there’s a very slight possibility that slumbering, elderly monks would be a bit of a disappointment to her? For such an accomplished seductress, it seems doubtful to me that pious priests would be able to satisfy her apparently voracious appetite. In fact, it strikes me that the holy hypocrites were probably just looking for a justification, an explanation, a rather pathetic excuse. After all, if Lilith is to be blamed for every child’s death, why not blame her for some old monk’s wet dream as well, eh? Assuming that’s what it was - monks are a horny bunch, you know.’
The bitterness in his voice surprised me. ‘You’re being vulgar,’ I said shortly.
To my surprise, Stephomi laughed. ‘Pardon me, Gabriel, but you asked a vulgar question, even if it was politely phrased. What is Lilith’s sex life to you anyway?’
‘Nothing!’ I said, suddenly feeling flustered. ‘I mean I . . . it’s none of my business anyway and I . . . look I just wanted to learn more about her, that’s all!’
To my horror, I have started to dream about Lilith. It’s become so bad that I find myself fearing to go to sleep at all. Perhaps the Lilith of my dreams is real. Perhaps she isn’t. How can I know for sure? But real or not, she is so incredibly beautiful. Actually, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s not natural for a woman to be that supernaturally stunning. She has black hair, reaching down to the small of her back. Hair that runs through my fingers like freshly-woven silk. And her white skin is marble perfect . . . cool to the touch. But there is this sadness in her always, in her blue eyes and in the tears that fall silently from them . . . salty tears that drop onto my skin . . .
I forget, when I see her, that she is a demoness, for she looks like nothing if not a goddess. Beauty and eroticism and desire personified. She wears long black gowns that cling to her body, contrasting starkly with the whiteness of her skin. And she brings with her a velvety, soft heaviness that presses in all around with sweet, erotic promises that she refuses to fulfil.
I want to talk to her when I see her. I want to apologise for what Adam tried to do, for the threats the angels made and for the appalling way in which God punished her for not submitting to her selfish, disgusting husband. But her presence always pushes all nobler thoughts from my mind. And all I can think about then is how much I want her . . . how much I want to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her all night. I resent her for having that power over me. What worth is there in lust? I am sure she does it on purpose. She teases; she loves that she can arouse me just by being there, in the same room. She revels in it. But she never delivers, oh no, though she may push it to the brink when she chooses. Always at that crucial moment her eyes will turn cold, her lips will tighten, and she will hiss spitefully in my ear that no mortal man ever again will take satisfaction in her body, for she belongs to the demons now.
I wish to God that Stephomi had never brought her up, for she now haunts and torments my dreams, real or not. In the end, I had to buy some medicine from a pharmacy to aid undisturbed rest; and, to my relief, it seems that Lilith is unable to invade drug-induced sleep.
23rd October
Something very . . . strange . . . is happening. I left my apartment this afternoon and stepped into the corridor straight into this . . . this golden mist, that’s really the only way to describe it. I stopped dead in amazement, for one wild moment thinking I had somehow stepped straight into Heaven itself. I might as well start by saying that the mist was ineffable so I know that no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to describe it adequately here.
It wasn’t just the fact that the mist looked like sunlight made more solid - it was also the feel of it. Like a pure, ethereal beauty gently surrounding me. It felt warm on my skin and was scented - a very faint dusting of vanilla that settled on me softly as I stood there. It started right outside my apartment and trailed all the way down the corridor towards the stairs. Even as I watched, the mist around me was fading and dissipating, and I walked down the corridor quickly, anxious not to lose it.
I don’t know why I followed it. I guess I was just so captivated by it. It never really occurred to me that it would actually lead to anything, or anyone, and it wasn’t until I walked into a coffee house not far from my apartment block and saw Casey that I realised.
It was clinging to her, surrounding her, moving with her every time she moved. Clearly no one else could see this but I was mesmerised, for I had never seen anything so beautiful. Perhaps this was an aura all pregnant women carried with them and it was just that no one else could see it, but I hadn’t noticed it around her before.
She was stood at the till, four credit cards before her on the counter and a queue of people fidgeting impatiently at her back. I could see Toby nearby holding a tall glass of hot chocolate in one hand and a plate with a slice of cake on it in the other. He was stood unmoving at Casey’s side, head bowed in silent misery.
‘That one’s been rejected also, Miss,’ the waiter behind the till said, handing her back another credit card.
‘Are you sure?’ Casey asked, staring at the card he’d just given her. ‘Look, would you mind trying it again?’
‘Come on, lady!’ someone called impatiently from behind her.
Casey ignored him. ‘Please,’ she said to the waiter, ‘can you just try the card one more time?’
‘Casey,’ Toby muttered, putting his cake and drink back on the counter, ‘don’t worry about it. Let’s just go.’
‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ the waiter said, ‘but the cards have all been rejected so unless you have some cash—’
‘Some of us have places to be, you know,’ came another disgruntled comment from behind her.
‘Shut up and wait your turn,’ Casey snapped, turning her head to glare back at the sullen queue behind her. ‘Fine. Please take these back,’ Casey said, pushing the hot chocolate and cake back over the counter towards the waiter, ‘and instead give us . . .’ She paused for a second, running her fingers through the change in her purse. ‘One small low fat yoghurt drink, please.’
‘Wait,’ I called, pushing my way through the groaning queue to the front, my wallet already in my hand. ‘Don’t touch that,’ I said, indicating the cake and drink on the counter. ‘We’ll take it.’
‘Gabriel? What are you doing?’ she asked, switching to English with that soft American drawl.
‘Hi, Casey. What do you want?’
‘What?’
‘To drink. What would you like?’
‘Oh, you really don’t have to—’
‘You might not have noticed but that queue behind you is starting to get a little irate, so why don’t you choose something now and we can argue about it later? I’m su
re Toby isn’t the only one here who likes cake.’
When there were at last three cakes and three drinks on a tray, I carried it to a table at the back of the shop, aware of the less than good-natured clapping coming from the queue behind us as we left it. Casey’s cheeks were burning as she helped me move everything from the tray onto the table.
‘Well - they’re an impatient lot, these Hungarians, aren’t they?’ I said, rolling my eyes and smiling in an effort to lighten the mood.
To my relief, she grinned at me then, shrugging off the humiliation with a graceful laugh. ‘I guess they are,’ she replied, fishing the lemon slice out of her coke and handing it to Toby, who gleefully put it straight in his mouth. ‘It’s awesome to finally be able to talk to someone in English. Thanks a lot for helping us out back there.’
‘No problem,’ I replied.
I looked at her, puzzled that I’d never really noticed before how attractive she was. There was nothing at all sexual about it. Her beauty was not the seductive, dark, velvetiness of Lilith with her black hair and lace . . . The golden aura that surrounded Casey tinted the coffee brownness of her skin and glinted in golden flashes from the many gold hoops in her ears and the silver nose stud, collecting in pools in the liquid brown of her eyes. The electric pink and blue streaks through her dark hair seemed all the more colourful for the aura, and I had never seen a person look so healthy - so radiant with a delicate innocence that took on a golden physical existence of its own, reflecting down the lengths of her eyelashes and clinging in golden droplets to her dark skin.
When I glanced at Toby, I was disappointed to see him looking distinctly uneasy in my company, so I made an effort to talk to him, to try and draw him out of himself; but he just looked doubtful and uncertain and only answered my questions with a brief word or two.
‘What’s got into you, Toby? You’re not usually this shy,’ Casey said, matter-of-factly wiping away a smudge of dirt on her squirming brother’s face.
A couple of old ladies on the table next to ours caught my eye and gave me encouraging smiles. I smiled back, feeling puzzled. And then . . . it struck me. They actually thought that Casey and Toby were my children! I glanced at the two of them. Yes, they had brown skin but it was of such a colour that I suspected one of their parents was white. And I was probably about sixteen or seventeen years older than Casey so I was just about old enough to be her father.
I was aware that when strangers looked at her, they probably looked no further than the many piercings, the tattoos, the dyed hair, and the painfully obvious fact that she was pregnant. She did, in fact, scream ‘troubled teen’ and anyone looking at her was bound to assume that she was a troublemaker. Believing me to be her father, the people around us liked me for taking her out to lunch, but they pitied me too for having such a troublesome child. How very ignorant of them. But I could be a friend even if not a father. I wanted something more than this fragile, cautious friendship that we had right now. But that kind of thing took time - I couldn’t grab at it for she had to trust me first. And then a flash of inspiration struck:
‘I don’t usually eat desserts,’ I remarked casually as I sank my fork into the marzipan gateau before me. ‘But my partner has a very sweet tooth.’
‘Partner?’ Casey asked. ‘Are you married?’
I saw her glance down at my hands, distinctly devoid of any wedding ring.
‘No, she doesn’t believe in marriage. We live in Italy but my brother lives in Budapest and he’s had some family problems that I’ve been helping him with. Still, I’m hoping to be able to return home in a month or two.’
I could see straightaway that this was a good thing to have told her, for Casey relaxed visibly, reassured that my intentions weren’t inappropriate and that I was just a normal person with a family of my own.
‘Do you have children?’ Casey asked.
‘Two daughters,’ I said.
‘You must really miss them.’
‘You have no idea.’
Already I was almost believing the story myself. I wished it were true. I thought of Nicky and Luke and felt that familiar longing rise up sharply. Hastily, I stuffed it back down again. I did not feel guilty for lying to Casey. All I wanted was to reassure her that I wasn’t dangerous. That she had nothing to fear from me . . .
‘Is there something wrong with your cake?’ I asked, noticing that she had been eating it very slowly and thinking that perhaps she didn’t like it.
To my surprise, she laughed. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with it at all. In fact, I think it’s just the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.’
I raised my eyebrows at her, puzzled by the enthusiasm in her voice. She gave me an embarrassed grin and indicated the banana cake on her plate with her fork. ‘Cravings. I couldn’t get them for some cheap, commonplace thing like rice, right? It had to be scarce, expensive banana cake. I’ve been lying awake at night just obsessing about banana cake the past few nights, so this really hits the spot, you know? I just want to enjoy it as much as I can. Thanks again.’
So why didn’t you buy yourself a slice to begin with, I thought, watching her scrape carefully at a stray bit of icing on the edge of the plate. When I’d walked into the coffee shop, Casey had been trying to buy Toby a drink and a slice of cake, but she hadn’t had anything for herself. She hadn’t offered me any excuse or explanation as to why all her cards had been rejected, but I suppose the fact rather spoke for itself.
‘When is your baby due?’ I asked
‘Oh . . . around December, I think. I can’t remember the exact day.’
‘Where’s the father?’ I asked tentatively.
‘I wish I knew,’ Casey said with a wry smile.
‘Sorry,’ I said, feeling low for even asking her.
‘Don’t be. It isn’t your problem.’
I wanted to discuss the matter further, to help her come up with some sort of practical survival plan, but I didn’t want to mar the occasion by upsetting her. After we’d finished, I walked with them back to the apartment block. Casey was working in a few hours and just wanted to give Toby some fish fingers before dropping him at a childminder’s and going on to her job as a barmaid. In the corridor outside the doors to our apartments, Casey paused and thanked me, urging Toby to do the same. I replied that it had been my pleasure to have some company other than my whiny, problem-riddled brother and then, after a brief hesitation, I spoke to her about the matter that was most pressing on my mind, ‘Casey, look, I know it’s none of my business but . . . when the baby comes . . . are you planning on keeping it?’
‘Of course I will be keeping the baby! It’s mine!’ Casey said sharply. ‘And you’re right, it’s none of your business!’
‘I’m not trying to change your mind. I just wanted to say that . . . if you want me to do anything . . . If you ever want any help—’
‘I thought you were going back home to Italy soon?’
‘Oh. Well, yes, I am but until then . . . And anyway, financially speaking you must have some kind of rights against the father. He must be under some obligation to you to pay maintenance or—’
Casey sighed and smiled gently at me. ‘The truth is, Gabriel . . . there is no father.’
I shook my head, confused. ‘What do you mean there’s no . . . ?’ I trailed off, looking again at the golden aura that surrounded her and noticing for the first time how very like the golden halo around the Virgin Mary it was. Forgetting myself, I grabbed at her upper arms in my excitement. ‘Is it a virgin birth?’ I blurted out. I think I may have been grinning like a lunatic as I spoke.
But then I saw the alarmed way she was looking at me and I hastily let her go and wiped the insane grin off my face, horrified to realise that I was probably undoing all the good will I had painstakingly built up that afternoon. And I had been doing so well at appearing normal up until then too.
‘Why would you assume that?’ she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
‘Just . . . just a joke
,’ I said with a forced laugh. ‘Sorry. So, er . . . artificial insemination, was it?’
I held my breath, desperately hoping that she would accept my clumsy attempt to explain myself. But as I looked at her hopefully, my mouth dropped open in horror. Ever since seeing her in the coffee shop, Casey had continued to be surrounded by that breathlessly stunning, shimmering golden aura, glinting with flecks of liquid light, bathing her in an exquisite beauty.
But as we stood there, in the corridor of our shabby apartment block, the aura abruptly changed, turning to a thick, sticky black; clinging about her like tar, moving and swirling in the most sinister clouds of pure evil that I have ever seen. There was a faint burning smell too, and for all the world it smelled to me like human flesh. The hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stood up as I gazed at her. She was clearly quite unaware of this depraved, undiluted malevolence that hovered over her and clung to her body.
