by Peter Roman
“He is,” I said, and left it at that.
Edwards nodded. “Well, I suppose we should thank you for reducing their side somewhat. But the truth is we need to weaken them much more. Too many of the seraphim still refuse to see the light.”
“What light?” I asked.
Now Edwards turned to look at me again. “The new light,” he said. “The Risen.”
I nodded. “Of course,” I said. “That light.”
“The war could go on for eternity,” Edwards said. “We are too evenly matched. There are others who haven’t joined sides, of course. Who don’t care about the war. Who don’t care about anything.”
“Cassiel,” I said.
“Among others,” Edwards said.
“You want them on your side,” I said.
“We care about them as much as they care about us,” he said. “They are too few in number. What we need is a secret weapon. Mona Lisa is that weapon. But apparently not so secret if even our enemies know about it.”
I added that to all the information I already had. I re-evaluated things and came to the conclusion I still didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“I see,” I lied.
“I doubt you do,” Edwards said without changing expression. He walked over to stand in front of me. He gazed into my eyes for a moment, then said, “Of course, our side would be bolstered even more if Christ himself were to join the cause of the righteous. Imagine. The Second Coming at long last.”
“I’m not Christ,” I said. “Remember?”
“That is an unfortunate fact,” he said. “But you do wield his power.”
“And doesn’t the Second Coming involve God?” I asked.
“He has abandoned us,” Edwards said, “so the Risen have forsaken him.” He said it with about as much passion as when he’d told Gabriel to use my face for a speed bag.
“But we can have heaven again, only this time on earth,” Edwards went on. “All we need is you.”
“I’m done with your kind and your battles,” I said. “Live and let die, that’s my motto. Or maybe just live and die.”
“How poetic,” Edwards said. “But perhaps we could sway you from your position.”
“I’ve heard all the arguments,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m just not a believer.”
“I know,” Edwards said. “That’s why I was thinking more of a straightforward reward.”
Now it was my turn to study him. It was kind of like studying a wax figure. “What kind of reward?” I asked.
“Join us and I will deliver you Judas,” Edwards said. “Once the battle is finished, of course.”
“You know where Judas is?” I asked.
“Of course,” Edwards said. “It is my business to know such things.”
Damn it—did everybody but me know where Judas was?
“The real Judas?” I asked. “Or, you know—you?”
“Join us and you will have Judas,” Edwards said. “Refuse and you’ll spend the rest of your lives in this painting.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” I said.
“You have always been more human than the rest of us,” Edwards said. I had no idea if that was a compliment or an insult. No matter.
“I have only one condition,” I said. “You let me talk to Mona Lisa first. So I know this is indeed a worthy cause.” I smiled. “Fair exchange.”
Edwards thought that over for a moment. Then he nodded. “I will bring her to you,” he said. He walked past me and Gabriel followed him with a sad look, as if he’d hoped I wouldn’t be quite so cooperative. They disappeared on the road again but this time I didn’t bother following them. I just went back to decorating the place with some more literary quotes.
In a little while we shall all be dead. Therefore let us behave as though we were dead already, I wrote on a section of wall. Raymond Chandler.
AMELIA
I don’t want to tell you about the baby Morgana had, but I suppose I must.
It was a girl.
Stillborn.
But that’s not why I screamed.
She was older than a baby when she came out. She was more a toddler. Probably old enough to walk, maybe even to say a few words.
But that’s not why I screamed either.
She looked like Penelope.
And I knew, somehow, that Morgana had reached out and found Penelope’s child. Our daughter. And somehow, Morgana had taken her from Penelope’s long-dead womb.
But that’s not why I screamed either.
Amelia, my daughter, who wasn’t breathing, and who was as grey as ash, opened her eyes and looked at me.
And that’s why I screamed.
A PICNIC IN THE RUINS
Edwards and Gabriel came back a few hours later. Or maybe it was a few days. Or a few weeks. Who knows? I’d covered most of the ruins in passages from books and poems now—I was just finishing up a bit from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein when they arrived. My carving was definitely improving—if I ever got out of here, I had a bright future as a stone mason waiting for me.
This time they brought company. A couple more angels and the faerie I’d seen dozing in the bedroom of Edwards’s place. And, of course, Mona Lisa.
They were wearing period costume—the faerie was in the same breeches and jerkin I’d seen him in while he was sleeping, and the other men were wearing similar outfits. Mona Lisa wore a crimson renaissance gown with a gold, diamond-patterned brocade. Her hair was up in some sort of elaborate structure, but her face looked the same as it did in Da Vinci’s painting. When she looked at me I felt my skin heat up. Not out of passion or desire or anything like that—her gaze actually raised the temperature a little. And I noticed the air around her shimmering, like she was giving off heat. Gorgons. They were all special in their own way.
Edwards was Judas once more, of course. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, inspecting my handiwork with the ruins. Only now they weren’t ruins. The walls were intact again, the castle restored to what was presumably its former glory, although my writing was still everywhere. I looked around some more and saw the clouds overhead fade away to a blue sky. I looked down at myself and saw my clothes replaced with the same period garb as them. It was like we were a little court. This was more than some minor sleight.
I looked back at them and saw a look of concentration on the faerie’s face. Now I understood his role in our little drama. We were in some sort of glamour he was maintaining. I guessed it was different from the one Morgana and her merry crew inhabited because of the obvious effort he was putting into it. Interesting. I had always thought faeries just lived in the glamour—I didn’t realize they created it too. File it away under Things to Consider Later.
Edwards escorted Mona Lisa forward with his arm. “My lady,” he said to her, “may I present to you Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.”
I couldn’t stop from rolling my eyes, so I bowed to hide it.
“We have heard many a great thing about you,” she said. Her voice had a crackle to it, like a fire. “We are honoured.”
“I am the honoured one,” I said, straightening up. “I have also heard many a great thing about you.”
“Who would speak of us?” she asked with a smile. She spoke in the plural, just like Victory, even though I knew she was cut off from the others. I guess old habits die hard even for gorgons.
“Your sisters have told me much of you, and they send their greetings,” I said, and her smile faded away. She looked, well, confused.
Edwards stepped forward, between us. “We have brought a picnic,” he said and clapped his hands together. One of the other angels stepped forward with a picnic basket I hadn’t noticed before. I glanced at the faerie again and saw him practically sweating with concentration. When I looked back at Mona Lisa, I saw her face take on the same dazed look as the people back in Morgana’s pub. Then sh
e smiled once again. “We do like a picnic,” she said.
You didn’t need my centuries of experience to see the faerie was keeping her mind clouded. Why, I didn’t know. Except that it appeared Mona Lisa was about as much a guest of Edwards as I was.
Edwards guided us to the highest spot on the hill and we took in the view while Gabriel and the other angels—I decided to call them Grumpy and Dopey—set up the picnic.
“Such a lovely place,” Mona Lisa said, looking down at the Thames. “Judas, my love, why have we never come here before?” She took his hand in hers.
I tried not to react at the words “Judas” and “love” in the same sentence. I looked up at the sky, at the castle, at the river in the distance, anywhere but at the happy lovers. I stared at Gabriel, who stared blankly back at me. Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough credit. I’d probably have lost my wits in this scenario too.
“It is a long and complicated journey,” Edwards answered, and from the tone of his voice I suspected he was telling the truth.
The three of us sat on a blanket while the others stood off to the side. I noticed the faerie stayed in Edwards’s line of sight. No doubt to pick up on his cues for setting the scene and controlling Mona Lisa. We ate grapes and tore chunks off a bread loaf and drank wine, while a warm breeze caressed us.
“So, how long have you known Edwards?” I asked Mona Lisa. I used his name deliberately.
“Who?” she asked, looking around.
“He means me, my love,” Edwards said, putting his hand over hers on the blanket. “Christ likes to grace us with the names of particularly strong believers, as a gesture of respect.”
I looked at those hands entwined together, then looked away again. The fact they were lovers changed everything. Now I just needed to figure out how it changed everything.
Edwards simply smiled at me, but Gabriel had shifted a little closer since I’d used Edwards’s real name. Like he thought I was going to spoil the party or something. I winked at him, but he didn’t wink back. Angels. They never know how to have fun.
“Oh, of course,” Mona Lisa said. She smiled at Edwards, then at me. “We’ve been with Judas for decades,” she said. “He has been most faithful to us. He did not abandon us when Da Vinci captured us and turned us over to the rebel angels, who would have locked us away forever. Instead, he worked cleverly to free us.”
She talked in the plural like Victory, but she didn’t sound anything like her sister. Victory spoke like a gorgon, like the world had once been hers, which it had been. Mona Lisa spoke like a smitten school girl. I doubted it was her natural state. That faerie worked powerful magic.
I nodded at her and forced another smile. “Rebel angels?” I said.
“The ones who kept us hidden away in the pub,” she said. “The ones who wanted to dance and sing the world away.”
Now I nodded at the faerie. “Well done,” I said.
“Those who would destroy the world and its myriad miracles,” Edwards quickly added, with a straight face. “Those who took her sisters away.”
I considered his words. Either he was lying about what the Risen did with creatures like the gorgon or Aigra was. Oh, which one to believe?
“We thought ourselves forever lost,” Mona Lisa said. “But then Judas tricked the angels into sending us to the human queen’s prison, where he helped us escape.”
I poured myself some more wine. “I’ve known Judas a long time and I know just what a gentleman he is,” I said.
“He has been trying to enlist us to join his crusade against the angels still loyal to their god,” Mona Lisa went on. “But we have been hesitant to involve ourselves in their affairs until now.” She batted her lashes at Edwards, and I successfully managed not to crush the wine glass into a thousand shards. She was clearly in love with Edwards, who she thought was Judas. But how could anyone—or anything, for that matter—love Judas?
“What changed?” I asked instead of becoming homicidal. Well, outwardly homicidal.
They both looked at me. “You did, of course, my lord,” Edwards said, and Mona Lisa nodded.
“He has sung to us the legends of your power,” she said. “And shown us glimpses of the promised land you will deliver.”
“Ah, the promised land,” I said. I finished my glass and hit the wine bottle again. I hoped it was one of those never-ending bottles.
“The rivers of fire,” she said. “The ash winds. The steam pits. Just like the times of old.”
I opened my mouth for a witty comment, but I couldn’t actually come up with one. First time for everything.
“And our sisters, of course,” Mona Lisa added. “Reunited in the time after time.”
“About your sisters,” I said, but Edwards held up his hand.
“We shouldn’t talk about such matters on a fine day like this,” he said, and Gabriel took a couple steps closer.
I nodded. “All right,” I said. “I apologize, my lady,” I said to her.
“We have no need for apologies,” she said. “Only vengeance.”
“It’s just that they’ve been hunting for you,” I said as quickly as I could. “And if I ever get out of here, I’m going to tell them exactly where to find you.”
The wind suddenly turned hot, and she sat up straighter and opened her mouth to say something.
And then she was gone. It was just Edwards and Gabriel and me. The others had vanished. The clouds were back overhead, the castle was reduced to ruins again. Even my dirty, bloodstained clothes were back. Worst of all, the picnic had vanished. I’d been enjoying that wine. Edwards still looked like Judas though.
“She’s in love with the real Judas, isn’t she?” I said. “That’s why you’re pretending to be him.” To recruit a secret weapon to win a meaningless war. A gorgon who was in love with Judas, of all the godforsaken creatures.
He sighed and stood up. “It will take some effort to undo the damage you have caused,” he said, ignoring my question. “Such setbacks, while not surprising, are unnecessary.”
I shrugged. “If I have to choose between being loyal to you or being loyal to the gorgons, I’ll take the gorgons,” I said.
“You have no choice,” he said, and he wore no expression at all on his face now. Or maybe that was just the usual expression on his face. “We have all eternity. Eventually we will break even you. Given time, eventually we would break even God.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “I wouldn’t have thought you the blasphemous type,” I said.
“The only blasphemous type here is you,” he said, and then he turned in the direction of the road and vanished.
“I guess it’s just you and me again,” I said to Gabriel. “Unless you were planning on following him?”
This time he took off his suit jacket and placed it on a nearby rock. Not a good sign at all.
“You know, I’m going to enjoy killing you when all this is done,” I said.
He just nodded and then got down to beating the hell out of me.
ASHES TO ASHES
When I came back to life after Penelope died, I screamed to find myself alone in a grave. Only I wasn’t truly alone. I was entangled in rotting bodies. I’d resurrected in a mass grave. I spat the dirt out of my mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed but there was no one under the earth who could hear me.
I dug my way up out of the dead and found myself in the desolate wasteland that was now Hiroshima. The city was gone, replaced by the skeletons of buildings and trees. The sky was the colour of ash. It was as if I had climbed out of the grave and into hell. I didn’t have to look for Penelope to know what had happened to her. I couldn’t scream any more.
I searched for her in that nightmare and learned what had happened from the people I met as I picked my way through the wreckage. Homeless people who had lost everything and didn’t know where else to go. People like me.
Now I understood why Judas
had taken on all the forms of those burned Japanese people back in the church. He hadn’t been transforming himself into people he’d been in the past. He was transforming himself into people who were going to die in the future. Who were dead or dying now. Or maybe they were forms he was planning on taking in order to move undetected through the wreckage and chaos. To create more havoc. No one knew but him.
But I wasn’t looking for him now.
I found Penelope in another mass grave, a smaller one where they had put women and children. I dug her up and held what was left of her in my arms and wept under the night sky. I wanted to die again to be with her. I wanted to resurrect her. I wanted to burn the entire world.
But I didn’t do any of those things.
Instead, I honoured her request. I kissed her and let the grace flow from my lips into her and turn everything she had been and everything she could have been into ash. I collected the ash in a Coke bottle I found lying on the ground, and then later I poured it from the bottle into a proper urn. I took the urn with me and travelled the world with it. And wherever I went, I gave Penelope back to the world.
I dropped a handful of ash into the sea as I sailed from Tokyo to Hong Kong.
I let a handful of ash blow into the wind from a mountain peak I climbed in the Himalayas.
I worked a handful of ash into the sand of Saudi Arabia.
I dropped a handful of ash into the water over Victoria Falls in Africa.
I scattered ash along the steps of a forgotten temple in a jungle in South America.
I rubbed ash into a pillar of the Parthenon.
I tossed ash into the wind at Auschwitz.
I sprinkled the last of her ashes into the River Seine, and then threw the urn into the water after them. I stood there a moment longer and watched it sink out of sight. I promised her I would track down her father and kill him in honour of her memory.
And when the last sign of her faded from the water, I went and found a wine bar and drank myself to oblivion and lost myself in the remains of the century.
