I Am Satan (Hellbound Trilogy Book 2)

by Tim Hawken

  The crowd looked confused. They froze and slowly fell silent. The demons all looked around at each other, unsure how to react to my question.

  “Do you have a leader?” Mary repeated beside me.

  An older man pushed his way forward. He looked either Indian or Pakistani, had white hair and wore thick frame, black glasses. He was clothed in black pants and a black shirt with a clerical collar.

  “I can speak for them,” he announced. “My name is Bishop John Joseph.

  A Bishop? I thought, bewildered. I covered my shock and cleared my throat.

  “Please ask them to rest and we can talk about this together inside.”

  “Very well," he said.

  He turned to the crowd, holding up his arms.

  “Please,” he asked. “The Lord is willing to listen to our demands. We will be heard. Wait for me in peace and I will return with answers.”

  Again, the crowd looked around confused. Their momentum had been broken for now. I hoped I could help solve this problem, but I was more curious about this priest before me. Where did he come from and how had he gone unknown until now?

  NINE

  MARAX OPENED THE DOORS for us and we ushered the Bishop inside. The protestors all began to sit down peacefully on the street. The blood from the burst bodies was quickly coagulating in the heat of Hell. A deep stench rose up from the puddles of red and black muck. The doors were sealed behind us, and we were enveloped by the cool air-conditioning of Satan’s Tower.

  “Thank you for coming in to speak to me, Bishop,” I said, as we gathered in the foyer.

  “Thank you, Lord Michael for your time. Please call me John,” he answered softly and politely.

  “Ok, John,” I said wearily, trying to keep my anger at what had happened outside in check. “Would you prefer to speak one on one, or can I bring some advisors with me?”

  He looked around at the group of people gathered about him. If he was overwhelmed, he didn’t show it. He nodded and smiled to each of them in turn before looking back to me.

  “I’m happy for Master Judas to be present,” he said. “And the elderly man in the pilot’s cap. Otherwise, I’d prefer a small audience.”

  “Of course,” I said, and then looked to the others. “Clytemnestra, please send someone to clean up the mess outside. Make sure they’re careful to be cooperative with the people out there. They must be courteous at all costs. Is there somewhere on this level where we can speak with John?”

  “There is a door next to the elevator, which leads to a small conference room,” she told me, pointing to the right.

  Smithy came to my side and whispered in my ear.

  “We should offer him something to drink as well, as a sign of hospitality.”

  I asked the priest what he would like in the way of refreshment and he requested a cup of tea.

  “Bring a pot,” Smithy chimed in, as we made our way toward the meeting room, and Marax went in search of it.

  Once inside, we all sat at a small round table. Settling into a black office chair, I looked over to Bishop John. He sat comfortably, smiling at us all. I tried to sense any kind of unusual emotion from him, but, with my own apprehension and anger boiling inside, I found it hard to focus. I forced myself to stay calm and laid my hands open on the table.

  “John,” I said quietly. “Firstly I have to say I am both shocked and angered at the protest outside. I’ve heard no whispers of unhappiness from anyone since my sermon on Mount Belial. I was under the impression that I made it clear if anyone had any issues, they could approach me on even terms. I am sorry if I get to the point too quickly, but what in Hell is going on out there?”

  John looked at me, nodding and still smiling. His ease of character in such a volatile situation was beginning to get on my nerves.

  “I have tried to approach your office on several occasions this last few days,” he said. “I was told that you were busy with other matters and that I would have to wait. Unfortunately, my comrades outside are tired of waiting. They insisted we march. We thought that a radical display would be the only thing to move you to the action desired.”

  “Which is?” I asked, slapping my hand on the table.

  “We want you to kill us.” He smiled again.

  “What?” I thundered. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Smithy tugged at my arm and I realized that I was on my feet. I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths before sitting back down. When I opened them again I was a touch more subdued.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, pausing again for a moment. “It’s been a tiring week. I don’t quite understand what you mean. You’re already dead. You’re in Hell. I’m working day and night trying to find a way to free you all from this place.”

  “But you already have a way to free us,” he replied. “Everyone in Hell has heard you can tear a soul apart at will. The group outside wishes the same blissful oblivion for themselves. We are sick of being tortured with Guilt and Fire. We are sick of centuries of unfulfilled promises of redemption that will never come. We have waited for what seems an eternity, but we will wait no more.” He placed both of his hands palms down on the table softly. “Even if you can bring down the walls between the realms, Asmodeus will never let us rest until he is destroyed.”

  “But that’s what I want: to kill Asmodeus,” I said in anger. “You don’t understand. If I destroy a soul, it is irreversible. There’s no coming back. The hope of a better life is here. I just need time.”

  “We’ve had nothing but time in this existence,” John replied in the same friendly tone. “But we cannot see an end in sight. For many of us, an eternity of consciousness, no matter how blissful, seems a horror in itself.”

  “He’s right,” Smithy said quietly beside me.

  I turned to him, unable to believe what I’d just heard.

  “I’ve been where John and the people outside are,” he said looking at me. “I know how they’re feeling. For them it seems like their pain will never end. Sometimes it starts to get better, but then life plummets back down. I was in that frightful space for a long time. It is only recently that my thirst for life has been renewed.”

  I blinked, trying to let what Smithy was saying sink in.

  “Why do you want to live now?” Judas asked him curiously.

  “Because I have a purpose,” Smithy said, looking at me. “I have friends who talk to me. I am no longer a lonely old man wallowing in his guilt each moment I breathe. I can see a chance at making things right. But this isn’t about me. My point is, these people do not feel that. They can see no way to crawl out of the darkness, and so they simply want it to end. Nothingness would be a mercy to them.”

  “But it’s not right,” I repeated. “It’s too final.”

  “Maybe there is something else we can do,” Judas said.

  “What?” I asked, exasperated. “We can’t just let them stand outside, throwing themselves off buildings forever.”

  “Oh, they won’t do that,” John said, his voice barely audible, as if he were really talking to himself.

  “What then?” I asked.

  “If they don’t get what they want, they will attack you. If you don’t kill them in peace, then they will force you to do it in violence. They are desperate, and for them this is the final play.”

  Marax clattered into the room with a large teapot in one hand, several cups in the other. He placed them on the table in front of us with a rattle. Smithy smiled a thank you at him as he picked up the teapot and poured hot liquid into the cups. He pushed it over to John, who accepted it with a nod. John started heaping sugar into his teacup. I stood and started to pace around the room while the others sat in silence. I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to think of some way to avoid having to murder more than a thousand souls. I neither wanted to do it, nor was I sure how long it would take or the toll on my energies it would require. What if more souls saw the opportunity and embraced nothingness? It seemed wrong to me, but was I wrong to take that choice away
from them?

  “What if we can give them something to look forward to?” Judas finally asked. “What if we can ask them to give us a reasonable timeframe for coming up with a solution?”

  “I’m happy to hear any suggestions you may have,” John said, stirring his tea easily. Smithy was watching him with intense interest.

  Judas looked up at me. I nodded. I was just as eager to know what he was thinking.

  “War,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” I snapped. “We’re not ready to go to war with Asmodeus.”

  “We’re close though,” said Judas. “Closer than many realize.” He looked at Bishop John sitting across from us.

  “Bishop John, are you a Catholic?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he answered.

  “And are you human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you in Hell?” I asked.

  “I committed suicide,” he said. “It was a protest against the cruel treatment of Christians in Pakistan. God sent me here. Even after my sacrifice I was condemned. I am angry about how I was treated, maybe enough to hold me here, but not enough to turn me into a demon. I don’t really know. I was only freed from the Forest of the Damned a few days ago, so I’m new to this place.”

  I drew in my breath sharply at his words. He paused to look at me quizzically before continuing.

  “I have since then heard the story that God and Satan have united into a being called Asmodeus. I hold doubt in my heart that I want to go to Heaven to be with such a creature. That’s when I joined the group who were talking about petitioning for a true death. I just want it to all end,” he finished, with tears in his eyes.

  Judas looked over to me. I knew what he was thinking because the same possibility had entered my mind as soon as I saw the bishop.

  “Have you ever performed an exorcism?” I asked.

  “What? No.”

  Smithy looked up from his tea, confused at the strange turn of conversation.

  “Do you know how to?” Judas pressed.

  “Well,” John said slowly, looking from Judas to me then back to me again. “It’s all a matter of procedure. I suppose if I had a copy of the Vatican Rites at my disposal and some holy water, then I could do it. But what does this have to do with freeing our troubled souls?”

  “There may be a way that we can bring down the walls that separate Hell, Purgatory and Heaven soon,” I replied carefully. “It may only take weeks to pull the necessary elements together. I would need your help, however. Do you think your fellow protestors outside could be persuaded to wait just two more weeks for the walls to come down? Would they wait two more weeks for freedom?”

  “It certainly would be worth staying around to watch,” John mused, rubbing his chin. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked.

  “Then I will concede to your request to assist in euthanizing any soul who truly wants it.”

  “And if we succeed?” John continued. “What if people still want to die?”

  “Then they can be the first to attack Asmodeus and their wish will be granted either way,” I answered.

  The bishop sat pondering the option while he sipped his tea.

  “Alright,” he said finally. “I think I will be able to convince them to wait two weeks, but no more.” He looked up at me. “If you think you can deliver what you are promising, then I’ll do whatever else you require.”

  “Good,” I said, suddenly energized with the thrill of possibility this priest presented. “There is a silver lining to any situation.”

  “Indeed,” John said. “I will go and tell my comrades the good news.”

  I stood up to leave with him, but Smithy touched me on the arm again.

  “May I have a word?” he asked. I could tell by the look in his eyes that it wouldn’t wait.

  I turned to Judas. “Can you please escort John outside and be my representative?” I asked. He nodded and the pair left Smithy and me alone.

  I sat back down and swung the chair to face Smithy. He sat with a serious look on his face.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, with all of these questions about exorcisms,” he said, “but I do not trust that man.”

  “Why not?” I asked, puzzled.

  “I don’t know.” He picked up his tea and sipped it thoughtfully. “An old man’s gut feeling, that’s all.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “We don’t have a whole lot of options here,” I told him. “We need his help badly. It’s time I brought you up to speed with our plan to break down the walls of Heaven and Hell.”

  TEN

  SMITHY LET A LOW WHISTLE ESCAPE FROM HIS TEETH.

  “That’s one heck of a story,” he said. “So once we have the keys, we can go up there and basically blow the place sky high!”

  “Something like that. We’re really not sure what will happen, but it’s our best chance to achieve a true balance between realms.” I paused and sat back in my chair. “So what do you think? Are you still with me?”

  He nodded fiercely.

  “I promised you I would. I would say I’d follow you to Hell and back, but we’re already there.” He smiled. “I still don’t trust this bishop, though.” Smithy’s face turned dark. “He’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something. I just know it.”

  “What can we do?” I asked, wanting my friend’s full support.

  “Maybe we can test him,” he said slowly. “Let’s hunt for Zoroaster’s keys first. We take the priest with us. If he proves loyal, then I’ll eat my words.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “It’s better to play this safe anyway. We’ll go together: you, me, Mary, Judas and the priest. Let’s rest first for the next coming of The Guilt, and then regroup in the foyer in an hour.”

  “You’re a born leader, Michael,” Smithy said.

  “Thanks old timer,” I replied fondly.

  We moved back out into the foyer and briefed the others on the plan. Judas and Bishop John reported that they had managed to sway the crowd to the two-week truce, although there was still some unrest about the circumstances. If nothing happened soon they would gather at Casa Diablo and renew their protest.

  The group split to rest for the impending fires of The Guilt. I went up to Clytemnestra’s office and lay on the couch, trying to get some rest for the journey ahead.

  I tossed and turned. My mind would not sleep, even though my body was drained. Thoughts of Charlotte plagued my consciousness. Would she be happy to see me once we reached Purgatory? Would she see the same man she fell in love with? So much had happened since we had been torn apart. As I slowly fell into a doze, my mind swung to the impending task. If we tore down the walls, what would really happen? Galaxies spiralled through my vision, whipping toward a white nucleus of light. I came close enough to touch the blazing sun, but before I could reach out, it exploded into a shower of blood.

  I jerked awake, sitting up on the couch. Clytemnestra sat at her desk nearby. She looked over.

  “The others are ready downstairs,” she said. “I told them we were having a meeting about building permits first. You were twitching while you rested. My husband used to do that only when he was dead tired.”

  I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I did need the rest.”

  I pushed myself off the couch to my feet. I felt revitalized from my short nap. I was ready for the next step: the hunt for Zoroaster’s keys.

  ELEVEN

  THE FIVE OF US BUZZED THROUGH THE SKY in Smithy’s helicopter. I had decided it was best to keep travel simple and conserve my elemental energies in case I needed them. We soared over Hell, crossing beyond Mount Belial into territory I had never seen. Mary sat in the front, helping navigate the route. We traced the path of a crystal blue river which bubbled through a pestilent jungle. The jungle receded into black-grass plains before they turned to desert. At the far edge of the desert I could see a straight beam of light shooting into the s
ky.

  “That’s it!” Mary exclaimed with excitement. “That’s the Chinvar Bridge which leads up to the gates of Purgatory. At the bottom is the hiding place that Zoroaster created for the keys.”

  As we drew closer, the glow of the bridge became brighter. From a distance it had looked a mile wide; up close it became clear that it was really a fine laser point, razor thin. The intensity of the beam radiated illumination past its actual borders to flood the whole area with pulsing light.

  “That bridge thing is messing with my instruments,” Smithy yelled, tapping a dial on his dash. “I can’t take us too close. This’ll have to do.”

  He set the helicopter down a few miles before the light, at the base of a large sand dune.

  “This is fine,” I said. “You’ve saved us a long journey.”

  “Where to now?” Judas asked as we grouped outside our aircraft.

  “We head to the bridge,” Mary said. “At the bottom is the monastery. There is an outer circle and an inner circle in the building. The outer circle represents the falsehood of chaos. The inner circle is the order of truth. You have to pass through the outer circle to get inside where the keys are stored. Zoroaster warned me that there is a test to be passed on the outer circle. Once inside, the keys are suspended in a liquid which should not be touched.”

  “Or what?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. His exact words were: ‘If you touch it, you will touch nothing else for a thousand years’.”

  I looked around at the group. Everyone seemed ready to press ahead, no matter the consequences. I knew I was.

  “Smithy, you stay with the helicopter,” I told him, “in case there are sandworms or something.”

  “Sandworms?” he asked, suddenly looking at the sand around our feet.

  “Or something. The rest of us will go to the monastery. Please wait, for as long as it takes.”

  Smithy dragged his eyes off the ground and nodded, smiling weakly.