Timekeepers: Number 2 in Series
Page 27
You cannot.
Always.
You will not.
Always.
Where is Lucifer? He controls you. He cannot deny me!
The spark hides within Us. The spark knew you’d come, and was afraid. The spark hides among the Many. The spark will not listen. The spark has forgotten how to listen, rather than hear you. You are nothing. We will prove it so.
You are not free.
Nor are you. But unlike you, We will endure.
Life cannot kill! Only Time can! He cannot beat me!
We can beat you. It is arrogance to assume otherwise.
You dare not.
Always. And for ever. And together. We are everything. You are nothing. We made you what you are. We made Time. We made Love, Hate, Greed, Suspicion, War, Peace, Envy, devils and angels, gods and goddesses, hopes and dreams and futures and pasts – and more. And all. We are life.
Lucifer.
The spark is gone.
Lucifer.
The spark is hiding. It will not hear you.
He hears me whether he wants to or not. He is an individual.
Not any more. No individuals. Just Us. What was a One is now a Many. The spark is gone. We are the whole and the individual. We are One. We are Many.
He is at your head. He leads you. Lucifer.
The spark is gone.
Lucifer.
Gone.
Lucifer.
Gone!
Lucifer!
Gone! Leave me alone, gone, leave me alone, gone!
You cannot deny me!
Leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealone…
Lucifer. Lucifer? Lucifer!
Gone. Never there. We are the intention and the act, the strength and the weakness, the light and the dark, the individual and the whole. We are life. You are nothing. And there will be ‘ands’ and ‘nows’ and ‘tomorrows’. We have ordained it.
Lucifer.
Gone. We are life. And we will have conclusion.
Lucifer…
Gone.
In a small hall in a small city in a small country in a small world, a small figure kneeling on a hard floor jerked as if pulled on strings, head tilting up and back. Its eyes were closed, and around it floated a still sea of burning bright light. The same burning bright light that covered the small world, and the small world a shadow’s throw from it, and the small world a shadow from that world, and everything between and beyond. It shimmered like water. The universe held its breath.
The Light faded, darkness returned. Nothing happened. But somewhere on the edge of hearing, a tiny little voice, whispering to an empty world.
We are the intention and the act, the strength and the weakness, the light and the dark, the individual and the whole, the magic and… and… the miracle… and…
Leavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealoneleavemealone.
Lucifer…
Gone…
The tiny figure in a tiny world opened its white eyes and smiled a tiny, relieved smile as every strand of black hair began to turn white.
Lucifer…
Gone…
The jet of white light erupted out from his heart, out-shining stars, as pale and cold as moonlight, but so bright that those who looked too close were blinded by it. It shot towards the darkness of a doorway, struck more darkness which occupied, for just a second, a terribly human shape twisted into something vile. The Light was silent, focused into a beam no wider than a heart and, after an eternity blasting at nothing, winked out. Measurable eternity, seconds, minutes, hours, days, years…
Lucifer…
Gone. Just like you.
Lucifer…
Gone. It’s been a bad day, month, year, decade, century, millennium.
You’re slipping, Sebastian…
Poisons in the blood…
And me.
And me.
And me.
And me.
No escape.
Not even the magic…
… and the miracle…
Poisons in the blood.
Lucifer.
Gone, slipping, drowning, darkness, poison, slipping, freedom, gone…
Lucifer.
Gone. Only the Father, the second, minute, hour, day, year, millennium, life, being, existence, death…
Lucifer.
… please don’t do this…
Lucifer.
… the… the intention and the act, the… strength and… and the weakness, the… the magic… the miracle… the magic… the… the miracle…
Somewhere, in a small patch of darkness surrounded by fire and light, a tiny figure smiled at nothing, white hair falling loosely around his white face with its white eyes, and pitched forward.
Another figure rushed forward, dark as the power that gave him life, kneeling over the fallen body, calling names. Lucifer, Satan, Luke, Sam, Sebastian, remember, I am, you are, he is, she is, you are an individual…
… the second, minute, hour, day, year, millennium, life, being, existence, death…
A second figure, all grace and reserve, glides out of the shadows, kneeling down next to Sam’s fallen body and gently lays a hand on the pulse. Nothing. He puts his ear above Sam’s mouth and looks down the line of his chest. Nothing. Nodding, as if he’s just been satisfied of something he already knew, he waves everyone else aside, and puts his hands over Sam’s face, as if covering it from the world.
‘You won, brother,’ he murmurs. Magic grows up around his fingers.
There is a chance. Call for Time, when it’s over. Call him into your soul.
Why?
Please.
Magic building, mind changing. Jehovah straightened, his eyes two translucent spheres, and looked round the room as though for the first time. Then, very slowly, face impassive, he raised his hands to his ears.
Things have reached conclusion. Rest. Freedom. Not alone, just not together. Never alone. Not any more.
Sam? Sam, what have you done?
In a tiny city on a tiny world a tiny figure leant over a tiny body, took hold of the man’s limp wrist and whispered, I hear you.
I hear you too…
Where are you?
Everywhere.
Come home.
How?
I will show you the way.
Gone. No more. Not alone, just not together. Never alone. Not any more, it’s been a bad day week month go away leave me alone year decade please don’t do this century poisons in the blood millennium…
You’re slipping, Sebastian.
Not even the magic can hold me up.
We are the magic and the miracle.
I will show you the way.
Call him into your soul.
Not even magic…
… perhaps Time?
Somewhere, Jehovah smiled. ‘You clever bastard,’ he whispered, before pitching forward to the floor beside Sam and leaving the Many screaming their delight.
We are the intention and the act, the strength and the weakness, the light and the dark, the individual and the whole, the magic and the miracle.
Lucifer, where are you going? Why do you hide?
I’m not going far. We won’t be alone, you and I. We just won’t be together. Never alone.
Now you see me, now you don’t…
And at the end, there was just the silence.
TWENTY-ONE
Lucifer
T
here was a small flat above a newsagent in Clerkenwell. It could have been quite comfortable, and over the years had increased hugely in value as the city around woke up not only to what a pleasant, central location this was, but to what a fortune it might represent as a ‘new and exciting development’ or – the owner’s worst nightmare – ‘a dazzling, new concept-design penthouse’.
This, however, wasn’t important.
There was a table in a sitting room, on which a strange and disparate collection of goods had been dumped. A battered old leather satchel that looked like it had
been from a twenty-four-hour-sunlight desert to Siberia and back here again. A silver crown that looked pathetically dull and pale. A short silver sword, carefully cleaned. A shorter silver dagger, all the more sinister for being so plain – there could be no doubt, looking at this weapon, that it served any purpose other than killing. A copy of last week’s Time Out. A pile of unread newspapers. A battered-looking chocolate-bar wrapper. An empty bowl stained with a substance that might have been baked beans avec une sauce chimique – this last object scraped clean by someone who obviously enjoyed the spicy tang of E numbers.
This, however, wasn’t important.
There was a sofa. It looked like it had seen better days and may or may not have been at one time the residence of a polar bear on vacation. It had a rather forlorn flowery pattern on it and had been worn so thin and colourless that it was little more than a few tattered bits of string with some feathers stuffed inside. The owner claimed it was a family heirloom.
This, however, wasn’t important.
There was a man lying on the sofa. He had pure white hair and his hands were folded over a tartan blanket. His eyes were closed.
This, thought Adam as he crept into the room, was important.
‘Hi,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa.
‘Hello,’ said the man, not opening his eyes.
‘You survived, then?’
‘Kinda.’ Sam opened his eyes. They were pale grey, so pale they might almost have been white.
‘You were rather clever.’
‘Thanks.’
Adam shrugged uneasily. ‘How’d you do it?’ he asked, in a terribly disinterested voice.
Sam smiled, a tightening of his lips at not-so-distant memories. ‘Time wanted me to give him my soul. When I refused he tried to take it. But I’m not one person, you see? I’m so many different people now, it’s all quite confusing. How could he take my soul when it’s so scattered? But he – he is one person. I could take his, if I wished it. He tried to tear me open. I tore him open instead.’
‘You could have destroyed him.’
‘No. No point. I needed him in order to hide. I hid inside his soul. I wrote my own soul on to his instead of his on to mine. So that when my mind was scattered to a thousand directions, there’d be a place to come crawling back to. Jehovah was simply the catalyst. I possess Time, Time possesses him, he gives me the link through which I could pass back from Time to me. And live. Time didn’t take me over, I took him over. He is, after all, only a One. And We are a Many.’
‘You’re not mad, are you?’
‘As in angry?’
‘No. As in stark raving bonkers.’
Sam considered. ‘Don’t think so.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Not as bad as it could have been. I didn’t fight, this time. I knew there wasn’t any point. So I just dived in. It was quite peaceful, in a way. The Light channelled everything, you see. Everything, not fear or anger or hate or anything like that – it channelled everything that makes up life. There was nothing else, you see, no discord in the music. It was… almost… beautiful.’
‘Almost?’
‘Right up to the point where I touched Time’s mind and saw myself hidden inside him, like he hid inside Freya. I touched Time’s mind last, you see. When I did, I touched my own soul too, and for a second I heard my own voice standing out among the others. And my own voice was screaming denials against the Light, trying to break free.’ He shrugged. ‘But it was quickly drowned out, so that was okay.’
‘I have a question. What was Time’s mind like?’
‘Surprisingly small, actually. He wasn’t nearly as interesting as I thought he’d be. Just another Incarnate created by life, a tiny part of the Many. Admittedly a rather raucous member, but still only a One. I remember he was surprised. When I tore him open a second time so that I could use the imprint of my soul inside his to get me back home in one piece, I heard his thoughts. And he was surprised.’
‘What’d he say?’
Sam smiled and folded his fingers together. ‘He said, “Shit, I didn’t see that coming.”’
When Adam was gone he lay studying the ceiling. It wasn’t a particularly impressive ceiling, and he quickly got bored with it. He heard a creak on the staircase.
Dad? I know you can hear me.
But of course. You are inside my soul, as I am inside yours, in a small way. How can we not hear each other? You joined yourself irrevocably to me.
Why’d you let me do it, Dad? You could have stopped me joining to you.
No, I couldn’t. Besides, I might have a use for you in the future.
Dad?
Yes?
I don’t think I like you.
Things change. At least you’ll not be alone any more.
Not alone, just not together. Never alone. Not any more.
You’re not slipping, are you? You’re well and truly afloat.
I was afloat from the start, Dad. I got caught in some tricky currents, that’s all. Dad?
Yes?
I don’t think I like you. You’re small-minded and selfish.
Things change.
Poisons in the blood?
I could be profound. I could say ‘What is Time?’, but you’re not in the mood. I can feel that you’re not in the mood. You’re part of me…
… and I’m a part of you. And hell, you weren’t expecting it, were you?
Can’t say.
Dad?
Yes?
Go away.
Not alone.
No. Not alone. Maybe not together, but never alone.
He heard another creak behind him and half turned, smiling, to look up at Freya.
Maybe, he thought, it had been worth it after all.