Angel of Ruin

by Kim Wilkins

  “But you have never seen the face of Adam; you have never heard Raphael speak …”

  “And yet I have such conviction that what I write is real and living.” He chuckled, perhaps a little nervously. “At least, I did feel that conviction. Until you asked me about it.”

  Deborah leaned forward. “Perhaps there is an alternative to this story. The angels being thrown out of Heaven; Lucifer; Hell.”

  “All my reading points to the accuracy of my story; all my instincts declare it also.” He drew up tall, suddenly remembering his pride. “I have been destined since birth to write this work. That calling alone ensures that what I write must be of truth, albeit poetic truth.”

  “Of course, Father,” she said, sharpening her quill. “Shall we proceed?”

  Anne was combing her hair, Mary stretched out across the bed scratching Max’s belly, when Deborah came upstairs to bed late that evening. Mary watched as Deborah hesitated for a few moments in the threshold of her closet, glancing between her two sisters.

  “What’s the matter, Deborah?” Mary asked.

  Deborah walked across to their bed and sat next to her. “I want to talk to you both very seriously.”

  Anne turned, her comb in her hand. “About what?”

  Deborah patted the bedspread. “Please, come and sit down.”

  Anne, suspicious, laid her comb on the dresser and joined her sisters. “What is this all about, Deborah?” she asked, and Mary could see the vague fear in her eyes. “You sound so serious. Is it something bad?”

  “’Tis serious, but not bad. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Go on, then,” Mary said.

  “I want to call the angel back.”

  Mary gasped loudly. “Lazodeus? You want him back?”

  Anne shook her head. “Deborah, I am so surprised. Why? You wanted to be rid of him.”

  “Only until I could decide for certain what we should do about him. I have thought about it at great length —”

  Mary snorted, and Deborah glanced at her annoyed.

  “I have thought about it at great length, and I have decided that we are in no mortal or spiritual danger from Lazodeus, and there are a great many questions I should like to ask him. I expect that because the three of us sent him away, only the three of us can effect his return.”

  Mary recalled her earlier conversation with Anne. She turned to her older sister. “Anne? Do you want to see Lazodeus again? Or do you find the idea tiresome?”

  Anne’s feigned nonchalance would have convinced nobody. Her fingers practically trembled as she pushed her hair away from her face. “I suppose we could call him again.”

  “Let it be done, then,” said Deborah. “I want to waste no more time, for I am still full of silly fears and may change my mind and disappoint myself.”

  “How do we do it?” Anne asked.

  “The same as the first time. Remember? The triangle and the chant.”

  Mary took a deep breath, certain her pounding heart could be heard by her sisters. “Yes, I remember. It was so long ago, but I still remember.”

  “Bar the door,” Deborah said. “I shall outline the triangle with charcoal.”

  Mary leaped to her feet, trembling from feet to fingers. Tonight she would see the return of her angel.

  12

  Warring Angels Disarrayed

  He arrived as he had the last time, naked inside a cage of light. Without having to be asked, Anne said, “Lazodeus, join us in our world.” The bars disappeared and he tumbled to the ground, in his familiar outfit of layered black. All three of the sisters hurried to help him at once. But, to Mary’s shock and disappointment, it was Deborah’s hand he took, and Deborah upon whom he leaned when he stood.

  “Are you unwell?” Mary asked lamely, her hand brushing his glowing skin as Deborah led him past her to the bed.

  “I shall be well enough in a moment,” he said, sitting down with his head in his long, pale hands.

  Deborah crouched before him, looking at him closely. “I have many questions to ask you.”

  “Deborah, let him catch his breath,” Anne said from behind her.

  Lazodeus looked up, a smile playing at his lips. “Questions, Deborah? Have you decided to trust me?”

  “I’ve decided to listen to you. Tell me about the war in Heaven. Tell me how it is that you and the other fallen angels were expelled.”

  “Deborah, just let him be!” Mary said, stepping in and pulling Deborah away from Lazodeus.

  “No, no, all is well. I am nearly recovered,” Lazodeus said. “But will you want me to stay by you this time? Or will you be sending me back as soon as I’ve answered these questions?”

  “Stay,” Anne said quickly.

  “Anne, don’t forget we cannot command him any more,” Deborah said prudently.

  “But I would still help in times of trouble,” Lazodeus replied. “If I could.”

  “I should like you to stay,” Mary said, hoping that Lazodeus could read through her pretended casualness to the burning desire at her core.

  He gave her a smile. “Should you, Mary? That is comforting.”

  Mary felt a hot flush seep up through her body.

  “Stay then, for I don’t care,” Deborah said. “But tell me of the war in Heaven. I want to hear it from someone who was there.”

  “All of you sit down, then,” Lazodeus said. “We shall make ourselves comfortable. We won’t be disturbed, will we?”

  Mary glanced to the door. “Nobody can gain entry, and Betty rarely bothers us after supper. But you must speak quietly so she cannot hear us.”

  “Certainly,” he said smoothly. “Now, let me begin.

  “The war was caused by a series of misunderstandings and betrayals. It may be hard for you to comprehend the politics of angels, for you have been raised to believe that angels are good and forgiving, that God has no follies, that all are merciful and peaceful. But all of these ideals are attributable to the Son.”

  “The Son? You mean Jesus?”

  “Yes. For he is mild and merciful, and he is God’s representative on earth. But the truth is that angels are beings who are not all of one mind, just as mortals are not all of one mind, and that means there are as regular and passionate debates in Heaven as there are anywhere else. If you can accept that, then the rest of my story will make more sense.”

  “I have heard that angels are sometimes cruel in their goodness,” Deborah said.

  “It is true, for any zealot can be tempted to protect their cause without mercy. What is also true is that God, or Father Infinite as we call him, has a weakness. His weakness is that he loves to love. And that is how this story truly begins. A million angels were not enough for him. He decided that he wanted a child, a son.

  “This was in a time before your history. The world was not yet created, and beyond Heaven there was only a void, in which strange creatures, which are long since extinct, resided. We lived on Heaven’s plains in five tribes; one belonged to each of the archangels.”

  “Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, Raphael and Lucifer,” Deborah said.

  “That is right. Lucifer was then an archangel. And he was Father Infinite’s favourite. He was second only to the Father in power and influence, and in beauty.”

  “What does God look like?” Anne said.

  Lazodeus considered a moment. “You could not look upon him direct, but even to see the reflection of his glorious countenance is to experience true fulfilment. He is as a blaze of perfect light, but he never takes mortal form as we do, as Lucifer does.”

  “But I thought we were created in his image,” Mary said.

  Lazodeus shook his head. “A misunderstanding. You were created like him in that you love too much, that love is your weakness.

  “Lucifer ruled the northern plains of Heaven with a devoted tribe of angels. We were called to gather around Father Infinite’s throne, which was on a hill in the central lowlands. And there we all arrived, a million angels arrayed with our ensigns and st
andards, shining canvasses and flying flags, camped around the hill waiting for Father Infinite’s arrival. Such a beautiful sight, so much colour. I still see it in my mind’s eye, and a great longing possesses me, for it is all lost to me now.”

  He shook his head. “Once we had assembled, Father Infinite sat upon his throne and spoke in an excited and reverent voice. He had decided to create for himself a Son, an expression of his love and a being for him to adore. I was thrilled, as were we all, for we knew we too would adore the Son. I cheered with the rest of the crowd, a merry joyous cry of happiness.

  “But then Father Infinite said, ‘When the Son comes, he shall be the vice-regent of Heaven, and you shall all bow before him. Those who do not shall feel the edge of my wrath, and may find themselves banished to the outer limits of Heaven.’”

  Lazodeus paused a moment, reaching for words. “You see, Father Infinite feels so fiercely in love, that he sometimes displays an impatience which is difficult to tolerate. And yet, we loved him dearly and so we accepted his stern warning and rejoiced with him. The day was declared an enormous celebration. We raised our pavilions.” He narrowed his eyes as though seeing it again. “For as far as my eyes could see were the coloured banners of the angel tribes and families, bright tents and long tables laid out with angel food. Such a delicious combination of smells and sounds: food, flowers, rain-fresh earth, happy voices and the gentle breeze in treetops. We played music and we danced and we all spoke of the new Son, and when he would come, how he would look, how precious he would be to us.

  “But as night fell, and we found our places around fires and inside the pavilions to converse and to sing quietly in groups, a rumour went about that delegations from Michael’s tribe and Raphael’s tribe had come to see Lucifer. Although I was not a Throne or a Duke or a Principality, I knew Lucifer well, as he had been my mentor when I approached guardian class. A few close friends and I decided to go up to his pavilion to see what was happening. Lucifer’s pavilion was very grand, warm compared to the evening chill outside, and suffused with the light and scent of burning candles. There I saw four Dukes, two of Michael and two of Raphael, along with various Seraphim and other important angels from our tribe. They sat upon the thick fur rugs which lined the floor, and spoke — and not in hushed voices or furtive whispers, but openly — about how they felt about the Son being declared vice-regent. It was an innocent conversation, I swear to you, an exchange of feelings and thoughts. One of Michael’s Dukes asked Lucifer if he felt particularly affronted.

  “‘And why should I be so?’ said Lucifer.

  “‘Because you were our vice-regent in Heaven,’ the Duke replied.

  “‘Unofficially,’ added a delegate from Raphael’s tribe.

  “‘Yes, unofficially,’ Lucifer ceded, ‘but Father Infinite never led me to believe anything greater awaited me.’

  “‘It is a great loss of power for all the archangels,’ the first Duke said. ‘Though I suppose there is nothing we can do about it.’

  “Soon after, goodnights were bade and the delegation left. Lucifer invited us to stay for more food and song, and the rest of the evening passed uneventfully. My friends and I lay down to sleep in Lucifer’s pavilion. After a few hours, I woke for some reason — perhaps the noise of more revellers close by — and saw that Lucifer sat awake still in his throne. I rose and went to sit with him.

  “‘Are you troubled, Majesty?’ I asked him.

  “‘I feel that I have been given a monumental problem to consider, and no time or space in which to consider it.’

  “‘You speak of the new Son?’

  “He nodded.

  “‘It is not for a lowly guardian such as I to offer advice. Should I wake some of the Seraphim?’

  “‘Yes,’ he said, ‘fetch Belial and Asmodeus. I would feel better if I could speak with them.’

  “I found the two Seraphim that he spoke of, sleeping outside under the glorious stars. They woke a number of other retainers and high-ranked angels, so that all in all there were seven of us who returned to the pavilion. We sat on the floor around our troubled majesty and listened.

  “‘Should I be worried about the coming of the Son?’ he asked us, when we were all assembled.

  “Belial seemed bursting to speak. ‘Does it not strike you as strange that he should name a vice-regent and it should not be you, Majesty? Have you not always been the one who sits closest to Father Infinite, there at his left hand? It should have been either you or Michael, but everyone knows you are the Father’s favourite.’

  “‘I am proud,’ Lucifer said, leaning forward with his perfect hands cupping his chin. ‘I know I am proud and I must guard against pride, but I have been sitting here for hours thinking the same thing. If Father Infinite decided he wanted a vice-regent, he should have given us a chance to argue our case for the role. And then, if he still chose to create a Son and name him so, I would feel more content. But I have not even been given a chance.’

  “‘What can we do, Highness?’ Asmodeus asked.

  “‘We can do nothing, not surrounded by the other tribes and with Father Infinite still so excited by his new plan. I think we should withdraw back to the North to think upon it further. Perhaps we can arrange a delegation to visit Father Infinite in the coming weeks, while he prepares to create the Son. When the first flush of his excitement has worn off, and he is more like to listen to reason.’

  “And the murmur went around that it was an excellent plan, and so on. And we began to pack up right then, for dawn was only a breath away and we had the furthest to travel of all the tribes. But when we started to leave in the early light, angels from other tribes came by to ask us what was wrong. And through ignorance more than design, the rumour arose that we were leaving because Lucifer was angry with Father Infinite, and we were withdrawing to the North in order to cut ourselves off from the rest of the tribes and make it known our outrage. Before long, we found that other angels from other tribes wanted to join us, because they too were unhappy with the idea of an unknown vice-regent. They threw their lot in with us and angered their archangels. Consequently, Michael, Uriel, Gabriel and Raphael sent a messenger to Lucifer: he should return immediately and swear allegiance to the new Son. Their hypocrisy was not lost on Lucifer, for it was the archangels who had originally encouraged him to express his dissatisfaction.

  “Lucifer declared his hand would not be forced, that he intended to return home and think about the new developments and would speak with Father Infinite soon. He would not deign to speak with other archangels when the matter did not concern them. With this, he made four powerful enemies. The other archangels, whether they admitted it or not, had always been jealous of Lucifer: his beauty, his intimacy with Father Infinite, the loyal devotion of his tribe. Now they had an opportunity for their resentment to grow into something real.

  “Long before we reached our homeland, we realised that fully one third of all angels were now in Lucifer’s train. I was amazed to see them, mighty and beautiful, following us to the North. With this large group of supporters, I began to imagine that Lucifer’s case would be heard and perhaps even that Father Infinite would agree to make him vice-regent.” Lazodeus paused momentarily, as though struggling with an uncomfortable thought. “In all truth, perhaps Lucifer’s pride did become too unwieldy at this point. Perhaps he could imagine all too easily what shape his own vice-regency in Heaven would take, and that fantasy robbed him of his undivided reason. We camped on the plains, a day’s journey from our homeland, and Lucifer decided to address his followers. He decided to speak out about liberty. This was his fatal error.”

  “Why?” asked Deborah.

  “Because liberty is a word that rebels and radicals use. To justify pride, excess, even cruelty. This dispute was not about liberty, and Lucifer knew it. We all knew it. This was about wounded dignity.

  “He had spirits erect him a glittering throne on a hilltop, and all of us waited, gathered around for miles, to hear him speak. He appeared, a vi
sion of great beauty in dazzling white, proud and tall. The love I felt for him, the admiration and longing we all knew, made the air thick around us. I would have followed him to … well, in the event, I did follow him to the end of Heaven.” Lazodeus let his head hang forward.

  “Does it make you sad?” Mary asked.

  “I cannot express to you the grief which comes from being separated from Heaven — my homeland, the place where I know I belong. I know not if I shall ever see it again, but I would wait beyond eternity for just one more glimpse of those hills and valleys.”

  Mary considered how much more beautiful he appeared in his distress. She could not remember ever having felt so twisted up inside. Her helpless hands clutched each other in her lap.

  “Lucifer waited until we had all fallen hushed. And then he said, ‘Fellow angels, we have this day been threatened by the four other archangels, told that we must answer to them, respond to their questions as though we were inferior to them. As though they were our betters. All this follows on from Father Infinite’s announcement of his intention to name a vice-regent of Heaven. This vice-regent will not come from among the ranks of the angels, but will be his newly created Son.’

  “From the front of the crowd, somebody called, ‘You should be vice-regent, Majesty.’ And a great cry went up, for that was the love that we bore Lucifer. I wanted to see great honours heaped upon him; I wanted him to be the King of Heaven, because Father Infinite was remote and unknowable, but Lucifer knew me and bore me great love. In those moments, those delicious dangerous moments on the edge of the northern plains, it began to seem possible. I imagined Lucifer replacing Father Infinite, an active, dynamic leader rather than a vague source of passive love. To be in that crowd at that time was to feel as though history, the very history of the infinite universe, was being shaped in my hands.

  “Lucifer must have felt it too, for I was close enough to see his beloved face, and doubt suddenly shadowed his eyes. Despite his early strong words, he began to resist the tide that wished to sweep him to power. He said, ‘No, my friends. We must open a dialogue with Father Infinite and tell him our concerns reasonably and with love, and he will listen as he always does. My quarrel is with Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel, not with the Father.’