The Demonologia Biblica

by Wilde, Barbie

  I was weeping. I leant across him, opened his door and pushed him from the car onto the street. He sprawled in the snow which lay a few inches deep.

  “Drive!” I ordered and the car pulled away. I didn’t look back.

  “Where too, Commander?”

  “The Fortress.”

  ***

  There was a large crowd of demons and half-breed at the gates of The Fortress.

  “I’m sorry Commander, but I don’t think I can get through,” said my driver.

  “Stop here.”

  I got out of the car and stripped off my coat and uniform. It felt good to stretch my wings and fly.

  A few demons were hovering above the crowd, questioning each other and I heard snatches of conversation as I passed them.

  “... Soul Knife ...”

  “... we can die?”

  Some feared and some hoped.

  The entrance to The Fortress was still guarded by SS Officers. The Watch Commandant had obviously called out the entire garrison. I landed by him.

  “What do we do Commander?”

  “Kill anyone who threatens you, including...no, especially Minions of the Inquisition. Prince Beelzebub is not to enter, nor any of the other Princes. Call for all the reinforcements you need.”

  I looked at him.

  “I assume you’ve been given orders to admit me?”

  “Yes Commander. The Great One is waiting.”

  ***

  I walked to the Grand Audience Hall. The arched ceiling is a couple of hundred feet high, and the distance from the entrance doors to the dais is a minute if you walk at normal pace, as I did. The throne is built for Satan, sculpted as a dragon’s maw and the seat is six feet across. In his aspect of magnificence, he easily fills the seat as he stands twenty feet tall. That’s how I’d last seen him. Towering over the hundred or so demons and half-breed, who were being judged for their part in the rebellion. Satan sat on the throne, chewing idly on one of the Damned.

  The floor is polished obsidian and looking down you can see the reflected paintings on the ceiling above, which show the history of The Great War. I cast my eyes down, wanting to see where I was shown in the story. Near the throne was a depiction of that last rebellion and the sadistic fate of the rebels.

  A naked, and lithe, young man crouched on his haunches on one arm of the throne. As I approached I could hear he was talking to himself. When I got close I saw he had short, spiky, white hair and eyebrows. Even his eyelashes were white. White, against coal black eyes, where traces of red fire coruscated.

  “Can you hear them?” he asked. “I can hear them. They scream. I can hear all of them scream. I can hear them all, feel them all. Shhh!... Listen!”

  He tried to make the sign for silence, but rather than one finger all four on his right hand waggled in front of his face. I stood still.

  He leapt from the throne to the floor, affording me sight of his crotch. Where his cock and balls should be, there was the face of a dark skinned wizened man, silently screaming. When he’d landed, his right arm shot out towards me.

  “You! You are a blasphemer!” He screeched.

  “No, I seek the truth,” I said quietly, as my right fist clenched, ready to strike him, should he utter the lie again.

  He scuttled across the hall to one of the huge windows of the hall. As he did so, he grew in size and assumed his manly aspect. He kept the face, but dressed himself in a dark coat with a Neru collar. His hands still fluttered about him, but his speech became more coherent.

  “Zizuph, old friend come here and tell me what do you see?”

  I joined him and looked down at the land, thousands of feet below us.

  “Hell, my liege. We are in Hell.”

  “I see, feel the Damned. Can’t you see them, crawling like maggots, infesting the rotting corpse of this place? I hear them, you know. Each and every one. I even know their names, their crimes.”

  He suddenly slammed the heels of his hands into the side of head, repeatedly.

  “They are all here. All screaming. All crying the injustice of this damnation, how there is some mistake. It’s part of my punishment you know. My sympathy for them. God didn’t just cast me out, he ensured I retained my compassion, so that I would always know pain. Pain without surcease.”

  He paused and looked at me. He’s Satan, Lord of Lies, The Enemy - the ultimate villain. He could monologue if he wanted, but he just looked at me.

  “You’re leaving us,” I stated.

  “How...?” He smiled at me and relaxed, but his hands and face still twitched, as he walked back to the throne.

  “It took me a while,” I said. “It wasn’t until Mesmerath didn’t incorporate that I knew the murder was a lie. I assume he and Wayland are around here somewhere?”

  He nodded.

  “My Lord Prince Beelzebub knows there’s something going on, and I should be able to find out what. That’s why he’s hounding me and tearing my head quarters apart looking for clues. As for the Soul Knife. You’re asking me to believe Mesmerath stumbled across an ancient artefact of such importance in The Great Library. But it doesn’t matter does it? There’s a rumour now and that’s what you wanted. I’m still not sure how you plan to leave.”

  He gave me a slow round of applause, the sound echoed in the great chamber.

  “What do you know of the possession of humans by evil spirits?” He enquired.

  “That it keeps the priests and witch doctors in business. That it’s bloody obvious when we’ve taken control of someone, as we’re hardly subtle...”

  I caught a look in his eyes.

  “And what is the first sign of possession, Zizuph, Genius of Mysteries.”

  “Clairvoyance.”

  “Very good. What if I told you we now know how to be more subtle, as you put it? That the only sign a human is possessed is that they experience a sense of deja vu? At last we have the power they have ascribed to us for so long. We really can possess their leaders and scientists unnoticed. We really can create wars and design disease. They’ve done so very well at these things on their own, but it’s time for the end game.”

  “And the Soul Knife is a way to explain your absence?” I asked.

  “Yes, there are too many of us for it not to be noticed.”

  “Us being some of the Princes of Hell?”

  “Them?” He spat acid at the floor, which etched the stone. “They’d just want to rule humanity, create empires, play their politics on another stage outside Hell. No, just a loyal few; who feel as I do. It is time to end this war.”

  Silence.

  “I’m not one of the loyal few, am I?”

  “No.”

  I heard the spear whistle through the air shortly before it pierced my back, passed through my heart and I could look down to see the head protruding from my chest.

  ***

  I incorporated here, in this mansion of rooms without windows or outside doors.

  I think of Satan, the Devil with many names who fights a God with many more - for the souls of humanity.

  The teachings of one side break on the disbelief of the other. Teachings are like vapour. Sometimes these things feel like empty air, but the winds of belief howl and the cost is human flesh and pain.

  Death is inevitable, so the manner of it, the experience of it matters to them: the tearing of skin, limbs hacked, the choking black smoke of a burning tyre hung around a neck, hopes crucified and loves sprayed with crimson brains against stone walls.

  Many names, and it is the names that matter. All suffering is made and justified in their names. It is a war where the combatants are immortal and the casualties, so eager to take up arms, are civilians. Only humanity could dream such a thing.

  Picture this. All the bones from all the dead humanity, from all the millennia of the war, piled in one charnel mountain. Does it cover Trafalgar Square? England? China? At the base, the bones are grey dust. At the summit, gobs of flesh cling to each ossified crag. The mountain grows, the sup
ply increasing day by pumping minute: push in–push out.

  Two figures scrabble up opposite sides, against the cascade of falling bones. A skull loosened, tumbles and bounces out of sight and they dare not look down.

  If Satan’s plan works, then humanity ends. The war ends. The cascade of bones ends.

  In the dark, each counts their share and it ends.

  Biographies

  Colleen Anderson

  Colleen 's fiction and poetry have appeared in over 100 publications with recent work in “Bibliotheca Fantastica” ,Third Flatiron Publishing's “Over the Brink” and “Heroic Fantasy Quarterly”. She is a 2011 & 2012 Aurora Award finalist, has received several Year's Best honorable mentions for fiction and poetry and been a finalist in the Rannu competition. Colleen works as a freelance editor and proofreader. She edits poetry and fiction for Chizine Publications and is co-editing Tesseracts 17. Watch for Colleen's new work coming out in “Bull Spec”, “Fantastic Frontiers”, “Chilling Tales 2”, “Deep Cuts” and through Zharmae Publishing. Her reprint collection “Embers Amongst the Fallen” is available through SmashWords and Amazon.

  Adrian Chamberlin

  Adrian hails from the seventh level of Hell (Cardiff) and lives in Oxfordshire. He has had stories published in anthologies around the world, and his debut novel “The Caretakers” was released in 2011 to considerable critical acclaim. A co-founder of Dark Continents Publishing, he has also put his editing skills to use on anthologies from Wicked East Press (“Read the End First”, co-edited with Suzanne Robb) and Hersham Horror Books (“Alt-Zombie” and “Alt-Dead”), but the demon Titivullus still tries to catch him unawares...It's a trade secret, but Titivillus is kept at bay by imbibing huge quantities of dark rum whilst on the PC. That's his excuse, anyway, and he's sticking to it. Further information can be found on http://www.archivesofpain.com

  Lily Childs

  Lily writes dark fiction, horror and chilling mysteries. She has a novel or three on the way - all set in the south of England where she lives, a stone's throw from the sea. Her short story collection “Cabaret of Dread: a Horror Compendium” contains eleven terrifying tales studded and sewn together with thirty-two flash frighteners. The ebook will be joined in early 2013 by the second volume in the collection. Author of the “Magenta Shaman” short urban fantasy novellas Lily is working on the third episode in the series. Many of her poems were published in “Courting Demons - A Collection Of Dark Verse” in 2011. Lily's psychological crime thriller “Carpaccio” was nominated for a Spinetingler Award for Best Short Story on the Web in 2011. Over three dozen of her short gothic horrors, ghost stories and nerve-janglers have appeared online, with several more published in print and ebook anthologies. Lily is Horror Editor at Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers e-zine http://thrillskillsnchills.blogspot.com and regularly blogs at The Feardom http://lilychildsfeardom.blogspot.com. She can be followed on Twitter @LilyChilds and Facebook.com/LilyChildsFeardom.

  Magen Cubed

  Magen is a horror fiction and comic book writer from Fort Worth, Texas. She loves dinosaurs and black holes, and also watches a lot of “Star Trek”. When she grows up she wants to play the tambourine in a psychedelic revival band. You will likely find her watching bad television, reading comics, and arguing the artistic merits of Cartoon Network programming.

  Raven Dane

  Raven is an Irish/Welsh author currently living in the Chiltern Hills region of Buckinghamshire, UK. Her first novel, “Blood Tears” was published in 2006 to great critical acclaim and was the start of the “Legend of the Dark Kind” series, dark fantasy with a science fiction twist. Two more novels in the series followed; “Blood Lament” and “Blood Alliance”. In 2010, Ms Dane’s first funny fantasy novel came out, entitled “The Unwise Woman of Fuggis Mire”, followed by another genre first, her steampunk novel “Cyrus Darian and the Technomicron” in 2011. This book was recently voted Novel of the Year by the international steampunk community in a new award organised by the Victorian Steampunk Society. She has many short stories published in anthologies including one in “Full Fathom Forty”, a celebration of forty years of the British Fantasy Society and poetry in an anthology of pagan verse. Her latest novel, “Cyrus Darian and the Ghastly Horde” was launched in September 2012. Raven is currently working on her first collection of short stories, “Absinthe and Arsenic”, macabre tales with a Victorian/steampunk setting and the third in the Cyrus Darian series.

  Nerine Dorman

  An editor and multi-published author, Nerine currently resides in Cape Town, South Africa, with her visual artist husband. Some of the publishers with whom she works include Dark Continents Publishing and eKhaya (an imprint of Random House Struik). She has been involved in the media industry for more than a decade, with a background in magazine and newspaper publishing, commercial fiction, and print production management within a below-the-line marketing environment. Her book reviews, as well as travel, entertainment and lifestyle editorial regularly appear in national newspapers. A few of her interests include music travel, history (with emphasis on Egypt), psychology, philosophy, magic and the natural world.

  Christine Dougherty

  Christine got her start writing short stories that were published in The Absent Willow Review, Necrotic Tissue, Fiction at Work, Niteblade, and others. The short stories did well and Christine decided to start writing novels. Since then, she's written ten with more in the works. Christine writes in the horror genre but the stories tend to bleed into thriller, sci-fi, paranormal, and fantasy as the best horror always does. She lives with her husband, dog, and two cats in South Jersey and has no plans to leave. Ever.

  Dean M. Drinkel

  Dean’s short stories have appeared in diverse publications such as “Literal Translations”, “Estronomicon”, “Theaker’s Quarterly”, “Morpheus Tales”, ”M is for Monster”, “Monk Punk” and “The Unnatural Tales Of The Jackalope”. His short films “The Crumps”, “Fou”, “Ruby”, “The Imp Of The Perverse” have screened at the Cannes Film Festival. His theatre productions have been staged in various theatres throughout England. He was runner up for the 2001 Sir Peter Ustinov Screenwriting Award with his feature script “Ghosts” (as part of the International Emmy Awards). In December 2012, his short script “Bright Yellow Gun” won the Best Action Screenplay award at the Monaco International Film Festival. He is currently working on a horror novel set in the South of France and a supernatural film set in Paris. More about him can be found at: http://deanmdrinkelauthor.blogspot.co.uk/

  Jan Edwards

  Jan Edwards lives in the Staffordshire Moorlands, on the very edge of the Peak District National Park, with her husband, Peter, three cats and a selection of chickens. Jan has a BA (Hons.) Lit. She was short-listed for the 2011 BFS Award for Best Short Story; nominated for the same award in 2012; and won the Winchester Writers’ Festival ‘Slim Volume’ prize. To date she has had more than thirty short stories published in various anthologies and magazines, both in print and digitally, most of these are inspired by her passion for folklore and mythology. Other work includes scriptwriting for TV spin-offs, reviews, interviews, poetry and articles. Full details at: www.janedwards-writer.blogspot.co.uk

  She has edited various publications for the CHWG, the BFS and the award-winning Alchemy Press - most recently co-editing an anthology with Jenny Barber, http://alchemypress.blogspot.co.uk/

  Jonathan Green

  Jonathan is a writer of speculative fiction, with more than forty books to his name. Well known for his contributions to the “Fighting Fantasy” range of adventure gamebooks, and numerous Black Library publications, he has also written fiction for such diverse properties as “Doctor Who”, “Star Wars: The Clone Wars”, “Sonic the Hedgehog”, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles”, and “Moshi Monsters”. He is the creator of the “Pax Britannia” series for Abaddon Books and, to date, has written eight novels set within this steampunk universe. He lives in West London with his wife and their two children. To find out more about hi
s current projects visit: www.jonathangreenauthor.com

  D.T. Griffith

  Born and raised in the Connecticut suburbs of New York City and fascinated by all things twisted, diabolical, and macabre, D.T. Griffith is not your typical fiction writer. Educated in fine arts and creative writing, and a professional in the corporate communication field, he enjoys a keen passion for writing dark fiction, noir, and horror where his brain is permitted to explore its deviant side without retribution. In regular life, he and his wife are proud parents sitting rink side cheering on their accomplished figure skating daughter.

  Dave Jeffery

  Dave is perhaps best known for his zombie novel “Necropolis Rising” which has gone on to be a UK #1 Bestseller. His Young Adult work includes the critically acclaimed “Beatrice Beecham” Series, BBC: Headroom endorsed “Finding Jericho” and the 2012 Edge Hill Prize Long-listed “Campfire Chillers” short story collection. Dave has contributed to several anthologies from a variety of publishers including Dark Continents Publishing, Inc., Wild Wolf Publishing, Imprint Phoenix, Hersham Horror Books, Wicked East Press and Hidden Thoughts Press. His work has featured alongside many zombie impresarios including John Russo (“Night of the Living Dead”), Tony Burgess (“Pontypool”) and Joe McKinney (“Flesh Eaters”). His short story “Daddy Dearest” features in the award-winning “Holiday of the Dead” anthology (This is Horror Awards, Best Anthology, 2012. “Necromancer: Necropolis Rising II” is slated for release through Dark Continents Publishing, Inc. in March, 2013. Dave has been commissioned to produce two books and subsequent screenplays to be filmed by Silent Studios in 2014. His short story ”Ascension” (featured in “ALT-ZOMBIE”, Hersham Horror)is currently being filmed by Venomous Little Man Productions/RedRybbon Films and will be released in 2013.