by Tim Hawken
“You have freed my soul, Michael, son of Asmodeus. Just as you will free the rest of those in Hell who seek it. I am Judas Iscariot and I am now your devoted disciple. I am here to bear witness to your greatness and ensure those who oppose you will feel the wrath of my hand.”
Judas spread his body out prostrate below me. Everyone around followed suit and began to bow. The effect rippled out in a circle until everyone was on their knees.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Everybody looked up from their worship.
“You will never bow on your knees to any god again! Follow me on your feet with equality in your hearts and I will deliver the freedoms I have promised.”
PART TWO
PROVIDENCE
ONE
I TURNED AWAY FROM THE CROWD of millions who had come to see the new master of Hell. I had done my part to keep them under control, for the time being. I had delivered what I believed to be a good speech, but now it was time to start working towards delivering my promise. If I could somehow bring down the barriers between Heaven, Limbo and Hell, then not only would I free all of these creatures from their suffering, I would have Charlotte back.
“Please bring Judas, Clytemnestra and the five revenge demons with her to the war room.” I instructed, as I walked past Smithy and Azazel who were still peering out at the mass of people. “Spread word to the rest of the crowd that they are free to go back to their normal lives for now. Is there food and drink in the cellars here?”
“There is always plenty kept on hand, Lord Michael. In fact it is almost endless.”
“Good,” I said. “Once you have brought my guests inside, send out food and drink amongst the pilgrims. If they wish to stay on the grounds to celebrate for the night then they are most welcome. Be generous with the food and frugal with the drink. We don’t want a million intoxicated demons running out of control out there.”
“Very well,” Azazel said. He walked inside and disappeared down the stairs.
I turned to Smithy.
“Well, what did you think?”
“I think you are either brilliant, or insane, or both,” he said. “It is a fine ideal to be working towards. But ideals never come easy if they come at all.”
“I agree,” I replied. “It’s best we get to work. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.” I forced a smile as I pushed past him.
The exertion it had taken to free the suicidal souls from the forest had almost broken me. My legs were shaking as I made my way down to where my bedchambers were. I sat down on the bed, leaning my elbows on my knees. Once again I was working on a wing and a prayer towards my aims. I closed my eyes. Sweat covered the dark suit I was still wearing from Oresteia. I needed to change. I got off the bed and walked to a cupboard on the wall closest to me. Sliding open the doors, I found what I was looking for: clean shirts, pants, jackets and shoes. Ever since we had arrived in Casa Diablo, it seemed Azazel somehow knew instinctively what I would need before I needed it. He had suggested the balcony for the sermon. He had put these clothes here. He had also given me a room with a private bathroom. I picked out some suitable clothes and took them into the ensuite with me. Since I had no time to sleep or rest, I did the next best thing. I showered with hot water to clean myself and then cold to wake myself back up. I scrubbed efficiently and quickly. I had guests arriving.
After I was washed and dressed, I looked myself up and down in the mirror. Only hints of the exhaustion I felt showed in my eyes. I still had a few light scratches from the forest on my face, but otherwise I looked presentable.
“Okay,” I said to myself. “Don’t ask too many questions; let them do most of the talking. They will provide the answers you need. They have been in Hell much longer than you. Surely they will know what to do.”
I opened the door to the large conference room. Smithy was sitting, talking genially with the rest, who either hadn’t offered to speak, or couldn’t get a word in.
“As I was saying,” Smithy said, “It really is a shame to waste more than two spoons of sugar in your tea, since that’s all that will actually dissolve in the water. The rest simply stays at the bottom of the cup!”
I suppressed a smile and cleared my throat.
Those present all looked over to where I stood. Clytemnestra and the demon jurors were assembled on one side of the table. Smithy and Judas were on the other. Someone had given Judas a white robe which hung loosely on his shoulders. His chest was still bare and white beneath; the yellow of the bruises on his neck had faded. I deliberately passed the throne at the head of the table and took an empty seat next to Smithy.
“Thank you all for coming,” I said as I sat down. “No doubt you have many questions for me, but I ask that you please hold them for the moment. I have already explained all I can during the sermon. Essentially, Asmodeus sits in Heaven while we remain in Hell. As much as I despise him and his actions, he has appointed me the new ruler here. Life in Hell needs to move on with as little disruption as possible.”
“But what about war?” one of the red demons across from me snarled.
I looked at him with sharp eyes, but said nothing and pressed on.
“We are now fighting a battle within ourselves. We must contain the evil urges each and all of us have and stop harming each other. It is the only way forward. There is no war to fight with God at this present moment because we cannot reach him in Heaven right now. Our first step is to seek information on how to destroy the barriers between Heaven, Limbo and Hell. Only then will we be able to march on our oppressors. Learn about the force you are against before you attack. It is the first rule of war and until we know more, we cannot be the first ones to strike. In the meantime, there is the more pressing problem of new souls. Every day the dying from Earth are sent here, helpless and unprepared for the afterlife. We now have the added pressure of the souls from The Forest of the Damned. They will need homes and they will need orientation in their new surroundings.
“Clytemnestra,” I said, turning to look at her. “Firstly you have my deep thanks for leading the pilgrimage here to Mount Belial. In doing so you have not only earned my trust, you have earned my respect. Only someone very powerful could succeed in such an endeavor.”
She sat more upright in her chair at my positive appraisal.
“Thank you. It was my humble duty and honor to serve someone so powerful,” she replied in her gravelly tone.
“You know more about Hell and the organization of this domain than any other,” I pressed on, “I herby appoint you High Chief of Lost Souls. You are now responsible for every person and demon in Hell, second only to me.” There was an uncomfortable rustling about the room. “It is a job you have already been performing, and now I want you to be recognized for it. Take the main office in The Satanic Tower.”
Clytemnestra beamed, her black gums contrasting with her red lips. It looked more like a sneer than a smile, but I could tell she was incredibly happy with her appointment.
“What else will you need to get the job done properly?” I asked.
“I’ll need assistants,” she replied. “I will need the ability to pay staff and full legislative rights to direct souls to create new buildings and suburbs for recent immigrants.”
“You have it,” I confirmed quickly. The day-to-day running of Hell would only prove a distraction to my main aim of finding Charlotte. “I assume Satan had bank holdings for such things?” I asked. She nodded an affirmative.
“Then you will control those also. Azazel, who keeps this house, will be second signatory, I the third. You only need my third signature should any extraordinary expenses need approval.” I knew that Azazel would protect the money of Satan prudently. If it were to run short, it would affect the upkeep of Casa Diablo. He would come to me immediately if anything was awry.
“There is something else I might need other than money,” she added.
I thought this might be coming. I waited for her to go on.
“The Dark Lor… ah, Asmodeus, would offer
his employees to be spared The Guilt in exchange to work for him. It was one of his lures to make sure he had the best people in Hell in his employ. By offering protection from The Guilt as an incentive, we’ll be able to save on wages as well.”
“No!” Smithy cried next to me. “Without The Guilt, demons will run crazy all over Hell!”
I put my hand on his arm to steady him.
“But you can’t, Michael,” he insisted. “The Guilt not only helps control evil here, it also helps reform souls to give them a chance to go to Heaven.”
“Then why aren’t you in Heaven, old man?” Clytemnestra spat from across the table. “If you enjoy your suffering so much, why aren’t you in Paradise?”
“Silence!” I yelled.
Smithy was right, I couldn’t spare people The Guilt just yet, but not because I wasn’t willing. It was because I didn’t know how. I wasn’t about to admit any weakness in front of these demons, however.
“When we achieve our goal of tearing down the walls of Hell, then we will all be free of Asmodeus’ forced visions. Until then, I would prefer to use The Guilt as a reminder for all that The Creator does not love us, and until we work together to bring down the walls which separate us all, we will remain in Hell. I am aware that some have already been spared The Guilt, and I will not presume to take away something that has already been bestowed. But understand this,” I said, looking around the room. “If any of these privileged few abuse this gift, it will be swiftly removed.”
I turned to the five jurors sitting next to Clytemnestra to steer the conversation away from debate.
“What are your names?” I asked. The demon who had spoken out earlier took the lead quickly.
“Lord Michael. I am Marax, this is Astaroth, Empusa, Barbas and Lamia. We will serve you with the ferocity you deserve.”
“I have no doubt,” I said, despising Marax and his companions for what I had witnessed in The Tenth Circle. I did not need him or the others stirring up wrath in what I hoped to be a new Hell. I realized only too well that they would need a strong hand to hold them. I would have liked to destroy them all then and there, but it wouldn’t be a fitting action with someone who had just espoused freedom and equality to all the souls in Hell. I would have to hold my hand, at least until they did something publicly to deserve it.
“You are now the first of Clytemnestra’s assistants,” I told him.
A low growl rumbled in his throat.
“Unless there is a problem?” I asked, almost hoping he would resist me.
“Of course not, Lord,” he said evenly, while fire burned in his eyes.
“Good.” I looked back toward Clytemnestra and addressed her again.
“You now have five powerful demons to assist you. If there are any issues, let me know. What is your first step from here?”
“Once we leave here,” she said, “I will gather the pilgrims outside and lead them back to the city. All will resume smoothly with Marax and his team behind me. While they may not have the glowing approval of the populace here, they certainly have fearful respect.” She eyed Marax sideways after her comment. “We will find a site for the souls of the forest and commence construction, although I’m at a loss to say where.”
“Why not use the empty space where the trees once were?” I offered. “Build all the way down into the city. I would prefer a road from here to having to walk anyway.”
“Great idea!” she said.
“Anything else?” I asked, looking around the room. Only silence answered me.
“You’re free to go then,” I said to Clytemnestra. “I’m sure you will be kept busy enough. I will come and see you when I can.”
Clytemnestra and her five new assistants stood. They looked from me across to Smithy and then to Judas, who had puzzlingly still not yet offered a single word. Each filed out of the room in silence. I did not trust any of them, but at least they would be too busy with their new jobs to plot anything significant.
As the last demon exited the room, Clytemnestra closed the door behind her. There was now just Smithy, Judas and I sitting next to each other in a row of three.
“Do not trust her,” Judas said firmly, looking at me with emerald-green eyes.
I stood up and walked around the other side of the table so I could talk to him face to face, instead of looking down the table.
“Why?”
“I can sense betrayal in her soul,” he said with an unwavering stare which unnerved me.
“Coming from you, the person most known for his betrayal, that is a strange thing to say,” I said to Judas, not offering that I still didn’t trust Clytemnestra completely.
“She has murdered all those she loved,” was his cryptic answer. “She only serves herself.”
“Then power should become her,” I answered. “But tell me, Judas, why should I trust you? I have offered you your freedom and you have offered your service before all in Hell in return. We both know that promises are only words until they are delivered. Why should I trust your word?”
“Because you hold within you the ideal that I once followed in a lifetime past. You hold a love for people within your broken shell.”
I was startled by his words.
“Oh yes,” he continued, “I can see within people just as you can see other things. I see truth where others are deceived. It is the painful burden that I bear, for the truth is often uglier than the lie that covers it. Do you want to know the truth of my story?”
Now he had piqued my curiosity. His was the worst story of treachery in human history; Judas Iscariot was the one who delivered Jesus to be crucified by the Romans.
“I always want to know the truth,” I answered honestly.
“Then take my hand,” he said, holding it out across the table, “and I will show you.”
I looked the red haired man opposite me in the eyes, concentrating to see if there was any deception. I could not sense anything. I changed my vision to view his elemental makeup. Around him there shone a white aura of peace. Looking at his hand I could see a surge of elements flowing from his heart and head into his fingertips. There was emotion, memory and thought woven together to create a silver tendril of time. I reached out and took his hand in mine. As his fingers wrapped around my palm, a blinding light flashed about me and I was transported to another place.
TWO
JUDAS WALKED DOWNHILL through rocky countryside towards a white walled city. His red hair swept like unkempt flames down his back. Ahead was a bearded man atop a donkey, following a dusty trail. His saddle was a heap of holed blankets folded across the animal’s back. The air was dry and, with little shade from the scattered trees about us, the midday sun scorched the land. A heat haze led the way into the distance.
“Where are we, Judas?” I tried to ask my companion. No words came out.
He went on without breaking his stride. It was as though I was an unheard angel, looking down on a scene I had no control over. I was confused as to where we were, but it was certain that Judas was showing me this for a reason. I was drawn along with him, walking down the trail at a steady pace.
“Judas!” the man on the donkey called, pulling to a halt. “Is this heat making you so delirious that you fall behind so easily? Come, have a rest. Ride the beast and I shall walk beside you.” The man jumped down from his blanket saddle.
“No thank you, I’m fine, Jesus. It’s but a few miles to Jerusalem. The others aren’t far behind us. Maybe we should wait for them.”
“Do you think word of what happened with Lazarus will have reached the city before we arrive?” Jesus asked, patting the donkey on the neck.
“I’m certain that word of a man being raised from the dead will have flooded down Mount Olive like a flowing river,” Judas said seriously. “My concern is that it either will not be believed, or that you’ll be accused of trickery.”
“Trickery?” Jesus chuckled. “I’ve been accused of worse, my friend. We will receive the welcome of the people in Jerusalem, of that
I am certain, but it is not the people I worry about.”
“The Pharisees?” Judas asked.
“It’s time those faithless men in Jerusalem stood up and took notice of us.”
So, that was where we were! We were hiking down to Jerusalem, just days after Jesus had famously resurrected Lazarus from the dead. It must have only been a few days before Passover and the Last Supper. This was the beginning of the sequence of events that led up to The Passion of Jesus, when he was crucified by the Romans.
Jesus waved his hand, looking back up the hill past Judas. I turned around to see a group of people making their way down from where we’d come. There were twelve of them in total: the Apostles.
“Tonight after we eat,” Jesus said to Judas quietly, “I would like to talk over a serious matter with you. I have a favor to ask that you will not like, but it is one I must ask nonetheless.”
“What is it?” Judas asked.
“Later,” Jesus answered, “they’re almost back with us. Please, get up on this donkey and rest your weary feet.”
“My Lord, you know that I will not. You must be the one riding once we get to Jerusalem. The message of the King of the Jews come in peace must not be spoiled because of my blistered feet. I’ll have no argument.”
Jesus nodded and climbed back onto the donkey, just as the trailing party pulled up to meet us.
“We’re not far from the city,” he said to the group. “Take some water now and walk again, contemplating God rather than your thirst. We shall be there before you realize.”
He handed down a leather water pouch and the group passed it around. Including Jesus and Judas, there were thirteen men, and one woman. She was a breathtaking redhead who, despite wearing the same road-worn robes as the men, oozed unearthly beauty. She was the last to take a drink from the pouch, swigging a healthy gulp before returning it to Jesus. As she passed it back, their fingers brushed and lingered for a few moments.
