by Stuart Slade
“I know, but now we must do the work we should have done all along.”
The Ultimate Temple, The Eternal City, Heaven.
“They killed Wuffles!” Yahweh’s voice was a mixture of rage and anguish. The thunder rolled around the throne room, drowning out the eternally-chanting choir. Michael-Lan watched them carefully, was there a hint of malicious satisfaction in their eyes at the sight of Yahweh’s grief over the death of his favorite pet.
Personally, Michael-Lan had never liked the beast. Foul-tempered, cantankerous and ill-disciplined to the point of being antisocial. It was lucky they had humans here to clear up the mess the incontinent beast tended to leave behind him. That was the trouble with a beast that size, its droppings were in proportion and took a long time to shovel away. Still, the Leopard-Beast had served its purpose.
“All-Knowing Father, One Above All, I share your grief at the loss of your beloved Wuffles. But know that he fought bravely and inflicted great damage on the humans before they treacherously brought him down with their bombs and gunfire.”
Yahweh did indeed look proud of his pet for a moment, but then grief and anger swept away the momentary lapse. The thunder cracked viciously and a sheet of lightning lit up the dim room. Still white Michael-Lan noted, Well, we have plenty of time. Let’s get back to milking this situation for all it is worth.
“One Above All, Lord of Heaven.” And not including Earth there is a nice little goad, all of its own. “I regret to report that Wuffles may have died because his mission was betrayed. The humans were waiting for him with all their weapons loaded and ready.” Yeah, right.
“Betrayal?” Yahweh’s voice thundered and the clouds in the room darkened notably. “There is betrayal in Heaven?”
“I fear this is so. Our most skilled and dedicated inquisitors in the League of the Holy Court have detected a conspiracy of threatening dimensions.”
“Threatening? You say this conspiracy threatens me?” The lightning flashed in sheets across the throne room and a bolt spalled fragments of marble from the walls. In the background, the chief mason sighed and shot an accusing glance at Michael.
“Threatens you? Impossible, Lord-of-All.” Michael-Lan mangled the phrasing just enough so it was slightly unclear whether the concept of a threat or Yahweh himself was impossible. Michael had his own opinions on that subject. “But those who are involved may believe that their feeble activities are indeed a threat to Your Omnipotence. Perhaps this snare was prepared for you long ago by the not-so-Eternal Enemy. Perhaps, in his defeat, he arranged for those of his servants who had not declared for him to carry on with his great design.”
Michael-Lan was slightly surprised, he’d expected a cataclysmic burst of thunder and lightning at that idea but instead Yahweh sat silent and thoughtful on his throne. Could Wuffles getting killed have knocked some sense into him. If it had, perhaps it was time to arrange for some more of his pets to be blown away by the humans. The silence stretched on.
“Perhaps this might well be true. How high does this conspiracy go?”
“The League of the Holy Court does not know, Eternal Father of All. So far, they have identified only the lower ranks of the conspiracy but they are concerned at what they see. It is arranged in cells, each independent of the others and those in one know but few of those in others. They work diligently in uncovering the threat but they must take care for who knows who else is involved? It may even be that the League of the Holy Court itself is not unstained by this treason.”
“Arranged in cells. This does seem like the work of the Morningstar. The late Morningstar.”
And that, boys and girls, is why subversion is so much more productive than insurgency. Michael’s thought had a distinctly gleeful note to it. “Indeed so, Eternal Father.”
“Pursue this, Michael, greatest of my generals, pursue this with care. What other news is there? Do the Americans wail under the lash of Uriel?” There was more than a question built in there.
“Well, they would, if they had reason to. Of course, his first attack was a bit disappointing. A city of nearly two million and he only took thirty thousand souls.”
That did it. At last Michael got his display of multi-colored lightning. A barrage of chips flew off the walls and the various strange creatures that danced attendance on Yahweh dived for cover. “Just thirty thousand? Is Uriel playing with them?”
“Well, One-Above-All, the humans took a pot-shot at him and he left rather hastily. I really don’t think is heart is quite in this you know. Perhaps he has spent too long on Earth and has become fond of the humans.” Michael managed to get the words out without choking with laughter on them.
“I will tear out his heart and eat it!” For a second, Yahweh sounded just like Satan. Then, he got control of himself and the family relationship wasn’t so obvious. “Perhaps he should be brought here to explain himself.”
Not a chance. “Your slightest wish is our most urgent command, One Above All. But Uriel is preparing another attack, this one on the city of San Diego. It also is a city of millions and perhaps he will summon enough courage to make a better job of it this time.” Michael-Lan sighed theatrically. “If only Uriel showed the loyalty and dedication of Wuffles. Still, I would counsel that we allow Uriel to make this new attack and judge him on his success there.”
“Perhaps it is Uriel himself who is at the head of this conspiracy?” Yahweh’s voice was thoughtful.
“Surely not, One Above All, Highest of the High, Ruler of All. Uriel’s loyalty had never been questioned until now. I would swear that his fealty remains untarnished.”
“Nevertheless, instruct the League of the Holy Court to investigate him thoroughly.” Yahweh’s voice dropped and he sounded tired. “These are strange days, Michael, greatest of my generals. The Eternal Enemy, killed by humans. Those same humans defy my commands and reject the answers I give them. They kill my servants and destroy my pets. Are the Bowls of Wrath poured on them?”
“They are, O Highest of the High. The first three have already been poured and caused much grief and lamentation. Soon, the fourth shall be poured,” as soon as I think of a way to do it “And then their anguish shall be multiplied many times over.”
“Is it time for our Legions to overwhelm them?”
Are you out of your tiny little mind? Michael-Lan almost blurted the question out allowed before he managed to stop himself. In any case, he reminded himself that’s a foolish question to which the only reasonable answer is ‘of course’. “Lord of All, the time will surely come and when it does, perhaps your own son should lead them in the victorious march against the humans. The power and the glory shall forever more add lustre to your Holy Name.”
Yahweh settled back and contemplated the prospect of final victory and a triumphant procession through the conquered cities of Earth. Then, he remembered that his beloved Wuffles would not be there to share it with him and grief once more clouded his mind.
Michael looked at him and quietly slipped away. As he left the Throne Room, the Head Mason spoke quietly to him. “Michael-Lan, you’re slipping. We won’t have to replace all the wall surfaces this time. What was that you said about job security?”
“You just wait, the best is yet to come. Once the League of the Holy Court find out who is behind this stupid plot, He’ll go ballistic. Until then, drop down to the club for a drinkie, we’ve got a new angel working there. Name’s Maion, give her a try.”
“Maion eh? I’ll do that.” The mason looked grateful. “What would we do without you Michael-Lan? You’ve made Heaven worth living in.”
DIMO(N) Conference Room, The Pentagon
“So what part did the Succubae play in the Great Celestial War?”
Colonel John Baylor forked up some mushrooms from his plate and savored them. Good portobellos, sauteed with garlic, an excellent accompaniment to lunch. The trouble with being at war was that rationing was slowly creeping across the whole spread of the U.S. economy. First fuel, then vehicles, then anything
that needed steel or aluminum. Then food had started to be affected, fish stocks were low and the ration of eight ounces per serving was onerous. It was lucky Indonesia and Vietnam had donated some of the product of their fish farms to the United States or shrimp would be in even shorter supply. Of course, post-war, they’d be using their generosity to lever better trade terms for themselves.
Lugasharmanaska’s teeth ripped at the raw horse’s leg with relish. As an obligate carnivore, she would have been hard-hit by meat rationing so it was fortunate that Succubus taste ran to the toughest, stringiest meat that was available. ‘Unfit for human consumption’ had acquired a whole new meaning, ‘preferred diet for Succubae’. It was an odd thing, as she’d started eating other meat, her craving for human flesh had faded. Now, it was mostly just a memory, except for the odd treat of course.
“Us? We had to find the portals. Remember, most of the fighting that took place in the Great Celestial War was here on Earth. It’s carried in your folk-memories and earliest myths. How many of your stories have scenes of towns besieged by armies of monsters? They’re us.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Baylor looked at Luga ripping her meal apart, droplets of blood staining some of the papers in front of her. The stenographer in the corner of the room looked positively ill at the display. Then again, it was lucky that the floor ventilation ducts were working at full blast or one of the humans in the room would have offered Luga a bite out of their arms if she’d asked for one. It was rumored that more than one of Luga’s lovers had left with bite-sized pieces removed from their anatomy. Hence one of the new proverbs that were spreading through the human race. ‘Never have oral sex with a Succubus.’
“It’s near impossible to create a portal from Heaven to Hell. But, it’s easy to create portals from Heaven to Earth and Hell to Earth. So, to get from Hell to Heaven, we have to go by Earth. Or its equivalent. But, it’s quite hard to create a useful portal from Earth to Hell or Earth to Heaven. So, say, Michaellan would create a Heaven-Earth portal for one of his armies and we’d try and capture it. Or we’d create a Hell-Earth portal and he’d try to capture that. Just like you did with the portal in Iraq. That’s what all the fighting and campaigning was about.
“Our job was to find where Heaven had its portals, seduce those who were tasked with closing them and persuade them to keep them open. Heaven tended to use humans to find out where our portals were. If you read your folk myths with that in mind, you can see how the stories survived. The Garden of Eden, that was a portal and the snake who seduced its guards was one of us. That’s why Yahweh was so annoyed.”
“So, did you ever capture a portal and get to heaven?”
“Me? No.” Luga thought quickly about suggesting she had but lying to humans was dangerous. She’d learned that lesson to her bitter cost. “But we did capture portals now and then. We’d storm through them and enter Heaven, killing and looting whatever we could find. They would capture ours sometimes and they’d do the same, stealing and robbing us of what was ours, sometimes taking away slaves. That was how armies fought until you changed the rules.”
“”Wait a minute, you say Heaven took slaves from Hell?” Baylor couldn’t quite get his mind around the concept.
“Of course, they would use them to build things like fortresses and kill them when they were done. Unless they were valuable of course. We would do the same, only we had more fun killing the useless ones. Was your warfare then so different?”
“I guess not. What’s Heaven like?”
“Much like Hell except the air is clean there, and the light is white not red. Heaven’s a bit bigger than Hell. There are those who think Hell is much older than heaven but why they think that I do not know.”
Baylor leaned back in his seat and wondered what the scientists would make of all this. “Right, now about the fighting on earth……”
Chapter Twenty
Human Slums, Eternal City, Heaven
Another name crossed off a list, another contact dismissed as a meaningless acquaintance. More time wasted, more effort unproductive. Lemuel-Lan-Michael had heard that on Earth, human police were sometimes called “flat-feet” and now he understood why. His feet ached and his wings were stiff, all for nothing. And it was all the responsibility of the bottle of elixir that he’d found during the arrest of Ishmael. If he hadn’t been so attentive to his duty, he could have avoided all this. Perhaps his instincts had been wrong, perhaps the bottle was associated with the First Conspiracy. That’s what he had decided to call the network that was split up into cells.
He shook his head, every instinct he had said that the bottle wasn’t part of that group. The first few discrete arrests had confirmed his initial impressions, the First Conspiracy was all about doctrine and beliefs. After adequate ‘persuasion’, the detainees had confessed to spreading heresy and blasphemy. They had maintained their loyalty to The One Above All though, claiming that He had been led astray by misguided and corrupt advisors and if those advisors could be swept away, The Eternal Father would see how he had been mislead and everything would be made right. Lemuel was prepared to bet that the leaders intentions were quite different but that’s what the lower ranks thought and a bottle of elixir just didn’t fit with that pattern. There had to be a Second Conspiracy.
He flung the door of the slum open. Like the one he and his agents had raided earlier, this one was of better quality, made of wood rather than straw-reinforced mud. He looked down at the human female who was cowering against the wall at the opposite end of the entrance. By Inviolable Rule, all structures had to be large enough to allow the entry of Angels and that requirement diminished her apparent size still more.
“You are Almedha?” Lemuel read the name from his list. “Daughter of Brychan?”
“I am, Noble One.” Her voice was quivering, whatever the humans had expected when they were granted access to Heaven, it wasn’t what they had found. ‘Salvation’ consisted of eternal menial servitude to the Angels, a group who regarded the humans as being of little account and even less value. “How may I be of service to you?”
“I wish to discuss with you, some matters of importance. In particular, your relationship with a human called Ishmael.”
That comment struck home. The woman was still frightened of him but now there was something else in her attitude, a guardedness, a determination not to reveal anything. “I know of nobody by that name.”
“Do not lie to me, Almedha, daughter of Brychan. Lying is a sin and one that brings down punishment upon you. Do you want to experience the punishment that the League of the Holy Court deems appropriate for those who lie to it?”
“No peerless one. But I know not of any called Ishmael.”
Lemuel-Lan shook his head sadly. “Your deceit means I must caution you again and in doing so my patience with you grows thin. I must tell you, Ishmael was arrested not so long ago by agents of the League of the Holy Court and he has made a full confession. He has admitted to apostasy, blasphemy, to heresy and sacrilege and to crimes so black that they have no name.”
“No! He … ” Almedha tried to stop herself but it was too late.
“And how would you know if you had never met him?” Lemuel landed the verbal blow quietly and deftly but its effect was still shattering. Almedha slumped back against the wall, her face white. Even so, her jaw was thrust out with her determination not to say anything. Lemuel sighed quietly to himself,why were humans so obstinate? He needed to look around this house but it was obvious he couldn’t leave Almedha free to leave. There really was no choice. He took a golden set of shackles from his belt, fastened a cuff around one of her wrists and another around a convenient post. As he left her to search the house, it never even occurred to him that he’d left her with her feet barely touching the floor.
The house itself was remarkably devoid of interest. Before their deaths, ‘saved’ humans had made much of the alleged virtues of simplicity and abstinence. On reaching Heaven they found out that those ‘virt
ues’ were greatly overrated, especially when they lasted for eternity. The fact that the Angels didn’t share their opinions hadn’t helped much either. The fact was, that while the angels lived in unparalleled luxury, the fate of the ‘saved’ was one of eternal grinding poverty. Again, the irony there never entered Lemuel’s consciousness, nor did any thought that the situation could, in any way, be considered unjust. Lemuel methodically searched the rooms, turning up nothing other than the few paltry possessions he’d expected. Finally he checked out the kitchen and there he found what he had been looking for. A small jar, one labelled ‘McCormick Granulated Garlic’. Another Earth elixir.
“And how do you explain this?”
Almedha shook her head, she couldn’t have answered even if she’d wanted to. Her mind was concentrated on ways of taking the strain off her wrist. Lemuel shook his head sadly and released the cuff from the sconce it had been attached to and dragged her towards him. “It pains me that you should be so obstinate. You leave me no choice but to take you to the League of Holy Court.”
Interrogation Chambers, League of the Holy Court, Eternal City
Lemuel-Lan-Michael pushed Almedha into the room. The two interrogation specialists jumped to their feet as he entered. ” At ease,” he said. “We need some information from this one.”
It took slightly longer than he expected. By the time Almedha broke, the interrogators had run through three buckets of water, her face and hair were saturated and she was choking amid a barrage of deep, racking coughs. It took her some minutes to get the story out, but when she did, it would have been mundane were it not for its significance. Ishmael had brought her the garlic as a gift. She had found the plain, bland food available to humans in Heaven dull to the point of being unpalatable and the garlic had seasoned it to provide a touch of interest. Lemuel shook his head, humans didn’t even have to eat, let alone want anything more than plain gruel. Why would seasoning be so important to them?
