by Tim Hawken
“This is our new Lord, Michael,” Mary said to them. “He is sworn to uphold an ideal for freedom in the universe. He pursues truth much like we do and he has a battle that requires our assistance.”
“Whatever you desire, Lord Michael,” they said as one. “We will serve you as long as you hold genuine truth within your soul.”
I nodded my appreciation.
“This is Bishop John Joseph,” I told them. “He helped free you from within Mary’s soul. He is a friend and ally.”
“Hello,” John said weakly next to me.
“Maybe it’s time we all got some rest,” I suggested. “Mary, is there somewhere that John can recoup after his efforts?”
“Yes. Follow me. I’ll show everyone to a private room.”
We filed behind Mary out of the crypt up into the regular levels of the building. After many twists and turns we came to a circular foyer which had multiple doors around the walls.
“Choose whichever one you like,” she said. “They are all comfortable and clean.”
“You remember your promise, don’t you, Michael?” John said to me, holding my arm.
“I do, John, and I will keep it. First let’s rest. I will meet you in the main reception downstairs in eight hours. In the meantime, get some sleep.”
I watched him walk to a door and pass through before I turned to Mary.
“You too Mary,” I said. “Please get some rest. Everything has happened so fast. We need to pause and take stock of where we’re headed before we rush through the gates. Will you also meet me downstairs once you’ve had a chance to recover?”
“Of course,” she replied. “What happened in there? I can’t remember anything between lying on the altar then waking with the jar in my hands.”
“It was… Interesting,” I said, not wanting to go over the horrible details of the exorcism. “What about your friends?” I looked at the Pure Seven who still stood just feet behind her. “What are they going to do?”
“They have had enough rest,” she responded. “They would like a chance to go out into the world of Hell and see how it has evolved in the last thousand or so years. With your permission.”
“You may go at your own will,” I said to them. “Please keep the peace though. We don’t need any more protests out there to distract us from our cause.”
“As you desire,” they answered in chorus.
“Please meet us all up at Casa Diablo, atop Mount Belial within the day,” I requested. “We may need your help.”
I then turned and walked to the closest door and let myself inside. The room was indeed comfortable. Through the dull light I could see a king-sized bed pushed against the far wall. A large plasma T.V. was secured opposite. I flicked what I thought was a light switch and the curtains whirred open. Outside blazed the world of Hell. It never stopped moving, never slept. People bustled down in the streets endlessly. I flicked the switch again. I had to block it all out for at least a few hours. I had a big task ahead. I knew it would take a massive amount of energy to build what Bishop John wanted. I worried that I might not be able to create the whole thing, but hoped I would be able to use the small scrap of liquid he had taken and reproduce it by repeating the formulae. I had to at least try; I had promised John. Otherwise I might face a revolt of souls before our true battle would even begin. It was an unwanted delay, but it was necessary.
I lay down on the bed. What was going to happen when we walked through those gates to Purgatory? What would happen when we tore them down? All I knew was that it meant there would no longer be anything separating Charlotte and me. It was selfish of me. I prayed it wouldn’t end badly. True freedom. Did that really mean order or chaos? By pulling down every barrier there was and letting souls run free, was I setting up the universe for disaster, or would the endless bounty of Heaven spread through the realms and calm our spirits into harmony and peace?
The risk was worth the possible reward.
I closed my eyes and the last thought I had was something The Perceptionist had said to me.
“There is no good or evil, there is only knowledge.”
SEVENTEEN
MY EYES FLICKED OPEN. Someone was tapping at the door.
“Come in,” I yelled.
Rolling myself upward, I got to my feet and shook the depths of sleep from my mind. It had been the rest I needed. I’d slept in my clothes, exhausted from the day’s events.
Mary slipped inside the room. She was wearing a crimson dress, a few shades darker than her hair. Between her breasts sat both sets of keys to the realms of the afterlife.
“It’s almost been eight hours,” she said. “I thought I would come and get you myself. Smithy is downstairs with John, waiting for us. That pilot is a unique man.”
“That he is,” I said, looking at her a little puzzled. “Why? What did he do?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling. “He’s just really obsessed with drinking tea, isn’t he? He forced John to have two cups downstairs just now.”
I shook my head.
“I’m glad he’s here,” I said, “otherwise things would get too serious. Shall we?”
Mary didn’t move. She stood in front of the doorway, looking at me uncertainly with her beautiful emerald eyes.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said slowly. She loosened one set of keys from around her neck. “I have held on to these long enough. I want you to take one for me, Michael. Both sets are too much of a burden for a single soul to bear. Please.”
I lowered my head so that she could place them about my neck. I let our foreheads touch. We stayed there for a few moments, letting the warmth of platonic friendship pass between us.
Mary straightened after a short while. She then turned and led me out into the circular foyer. We veered left and made our way toward the main lift.
“What do you think will happen when we destroy the walls?” I asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” she answered. “But I do know it’s something which needs to be done. The barriers didn’t always exist. We’re merely going back to the original state of life and afterlife. It will be simpler.”
“Yes, but will it be better?” I asked.
“It will be better for two thirds of the realms,” she replied. “Only those who already exist in Heaven may feel that it’s a regression to something they don’t like. I do think it’s for the greater good. It’s more truthful.”
I nodded. We stepped inside the main elevator and descended into the foyer. Smithy and John were there. John had a cup of tea in his hands and Smithy was watching him. He really is a little odd, I thought with fondness.
We approached them and John put down his cup with a look of relief.
“Are you ready?” he asked me.
“I am,” I said. “We’re going to Casa Diablo. I want to make the waterfall there. It will be easier to keep secure.”
“Agreed.” John nodded. “How will we get there?”
“My helicopter,” Smithy said. “I parked it outside.”
“What? On the street?” I asked.
“Why not?” He winked. “If the friends of Lord Michael can’t have a few extra privileges, then why be his friend?”
Shaking my head, I walked for the doors. Mary, John, Smithy and I came out onto the footpath in front of Magdalene’s Mansion. Traffic was backed up on either side of the aircraft, which sat right in the middle of the road. Horns were honking, but silenced once I strode into sight. Smithy waved at the cars with a smile as we climbed up.
“See,” he said. “They don’t mind.”
We took off, floating straight upward into the sky. Around us, the lights of Smoking Gun flashed brightly, drowning out the normal black and red glow, which came from the clouds above. Once we had cleared the tops of the buildings, Smithy took us forward toward what I supposed was my home. I didn’t really know anymore.
Azazel came out to greet us as we touched down on the great lawn. Works for the new subur
b were grinding away down the mountainside, where the Forest of the Damned had once stood.
“These constructions are driving me crazy,” he said as I jumped down from the aircraft. “Dust is blowing into the castle day and night. It’s impossible to keep it all clean.”
“Never mind,” I said calmly, trying to placate him. “They’ll be finished soon. It is something that you know is needed.”
“Very well, master.” He bowed his head as the others grouped behind us.
“I need your help, Azazel,” I said, and he looked up at me again. “I’m going to be doing some other alterations on the other side of the castle today. Is there a secure area that is blocked off from any possible intruders?”
“What kind of alterations?” he asked suspiciously.
“It’s a waterfall. One that needs to be kept from prying eyes.”
“They are your grounds,” Azazel said grudgingly. “At least it will be better than the view of concrete on this side. I can show you a place that may suit.” Azazel turned and marched off, leaving us to follow.
“There is a large space around the very back, toward the sheer side of the mountain,” he said as we walked, catching up to him. “Entry is blocked by a set of gates that Satan designed himself. Only the ruler of Hell and the keeper of the house can open them, meaning you or me.”
We moved around to the far side of Casa Diablo, through the lively garden from which I had freed Azazel. We came to a long set of barbed gates which towered out of the side of the castle and ran all the way over the edge of the mountain. Azazel reached out and touched the silver metal of the fence. An opening hissed away around his hand, spreading out to a hole big enough for each of us to file through one by one. Ducking my head through, I passed inside to see that this part of the mountain overlooked the jungle, which eventually led on to the desert and Chinvar Bridge. The ground in front of the castle was flat, green grass the size of a football field. There was another set of gates on the far side, with a few trees scattered along the perimeter. The field spread outward to the side of the mountain, which cut away sharply at the edge.
“There is a steep overhang of oil-rock which drops thousands of feet down. It is impossible to climb,” Azazel told us. “Gargoyles patrol the rim day and night. No one can get up this side without us knowing.”
I surveyed the area. It seemed to be the ideal spot.
“Thank you, Azazel. That will be all for now. I’ll call you if you’re needed.”
“Yes sir.” He turned and passed back through the gates.
I walked out into the middle of the field, gauging a proper distance to start from the castle. I then looked toward the edge. I would need to be right in the center, to make sure there was enough room.
“I’ll want you by my side for this, Smithy,” I said. “I might need someone to steady me.”
“Smithy is still at the gates,” said Bishop John beside me.
I turned around, confused. I’d assumed the others had all followed me out, but Smithy and Mary were still back at the fence, talking to each other. Smithy was pointing into the sky and then at the ground. He then turned looked up to us and waved happily.
“I can assist,” John said, drawing my attention back to him. “It’s only proper that I help with something I asked to be created.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I’d appreciate it. This is going to take a vast amount of energy to achieve. I’ll need first to create the landscape we need. We’ll have to make a steep rise for the waterfall to cascade off and a cave within so the souls who pass through can sleep inside.”
“After that we’ll need to go to the top of the cliff and pour the liquid down,” John added.
“I’ll have to grow more of the gel from what we already have. It’s a lot simpler to replicate an existing thing, than to create from nothing.”
“I can agree with that,” John said.
“Okay,” I said, steeling myself and planting my feet into the ground. “The others are probably better back there for safety. Let’s get started.”
With John at my side, I focused on the elements of earth at our feet. I tore the ground apart in front of me by wedging gas inside and expanding it. The sounds of cataclysm rent the air as I worked. Building mounds of rock and dirt on top of each other, I grew a steep precipice out of the earth. Using liquid fire I then burrowed a deep cavern inside it, cleaving stone apart to drill a shaft deep into the mountain. Pushing my mind downward, I funnelled a pathway which led right through the earth to an opening near the base of Mount Belial. I pushed elements of water down through the tunnel to wash out the grime and sealed the bottom with a complex sieve of air. The only way through the sieve would be to pass from the inside out. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. Letting the ground settle, I focused my attention back to the lip of the cliff I had made. Sucking in air again and grunting with effort, I formed a wide basin at the top which would feed the waterfall. At the base of the cliff I formed another pool and connected the two together with a linking duct which would recycle the gel of sleep up to the top again. It would be able to fall forever in a perpetual cycle, cleansing tormented souls by sending them into a thousand year slumber. The final finishing touch was a floating stone path I created at the base of the pool so souls could walk over it to get to the waterfall’s curtain. This meant that one person could easily guard the entry.
I stopped my toils and let the dust settle. Gathering my breath, I turned to see Smithy and Mary coming over to join us. They both looked up in awe at what I’d just created. Even I was daunted by the extent of my power. I had never moved so many elements together at one time before. It had drained me, but not so much that I couldn’t continue. It was now time for the hardest part.
I stood for a few moments looking up to the top of the cliff. This Fount of Mercy would be beautiful once it was finished: beautiful and dangerous. Water would fall from above to cover the cave within. Souls would be able to pass through the curtain of water and then sleep inside. The steep floor of the cave meant their bodies would slide down to the bottom of the shaft through the mountain while they slept over the years. When they awoke, they would have the choice to rejoin humanity by passing out of the mountain. Otherwise, they could choose to sleep again by climbing back to the top of the cave and drinking from the waterfall.
The Bishop stood patiently next to me.
“By the saints!” said Smithy, walking closer to us. “I’ve never seen anything like that in all my many days.”
Mary followed behind him.
“It’s not finished yet,” I said. “It’s time to add the most crucial part.”
“Now?” Smithy asked.
“No point in waiting,” I said.
Smithy looked over to John who was gazing up to the peak of the cliff.
“No, I guess not,” he said, eyeing the bishop. “May we come too?”
“I’d prefer it,” I said.
We climbed carefully around the side of the cliff, winding up through a narrow pathway I had created for the purpose. It was a welcome rest to be climbing physically, rather than concentrating my mental energies.
Sweating in the heat, we made it to the overhang. I surveyed the basin. It was just as I had hoped, round and lightly sloped so that the fluid I put inside would flow easily over the cliff edge. I asked Smithy and Mary to stay at the side of the empty bowl while John and I climbed inside.
“Are you sure I can’t do anything?” Smith asked after us.
“We can finish it, my friend.” I smiled back at his offer. “Just stand back and watch the show.”
“I’m sure I can do something!” he said, climbing down.
“No, Smithy,” I said, firmly, knowing he was only trying to help. He reluctantly turned and rejoined Mary on the banks of the basin.
“Are you ready?” I asked John.
He nodded and took from his pocket the small vial which held the green gel of sleep. He handed it to me. I looked inside, viewing the molecules that danced
within. The weave was one I knew I could replicate, but it would take intense concentration to get it right.
“While I pour it out,” I told John, “I will expand it. As the pool fills, lead me backward out of the hole. I’ll be looking at the fluid the whole time, so will have to trust you to be my eyes.”
“You can trust me,” he said quietly.
I pulled the stopper off the vial and gently poured the gel out. The fluid, with its thick consistency, slowly dribbled out. I pulled my attention within its elemental fabric. I became one with it. The spirit and thought mixed inside joined my soul. I could feel how it was made. I could sense it.
Focusing on growing the droplets, I attracted the same elements toward each other. They bonded as each came near to their cosmic twin. As the rush of atoms intensified, they took on a life of their own. I could barely feel the outside world as John guided my steps backward.
The trickle of gel soon became a steady stream from out of the vial. It increased to a spurting fountain and then a flood. It surged forth, away from me, like a fire hose, filling the basin rapidly. I felt myself stumble, but strong hands lifted me up again. I was drawn toward the liquid, which I felt partnered with. I tried to step forward, but John pulled me out, away from the shimmering gel which sprung all around. With a mighty effort I tore myself out of my concentration and snapped the tap shut. I tumbled backwards onto the ground, spent completely from the strain.
Black swirled around my vision as I struggled to maintain consciousness. My heart hammered in my ears. I was close to falling into oblivion, but was jolted to my senses as I felt a boot crush down on my throat.
I opened my eyes to see the face of Asmodeus looking down at me. The Keys of Zoroaster were dangling from his clawed fingers.
“Thank you, son,” he said, as I choked for air. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on these.”
EIGHTEEN
I WRESTLED WITH THE FOOT, which pinned me on the ground by the jugular. Asmodeus laughed malevolently at me, swinging the keys to Purgatory into his palm and placing them in his pocket. He must have taken them from around my neck. But how?
