Orlene remembered her experience with the urgency of the need of the male, and could not condemn him. "Who is she?"
"Another Incarnation. Only Incarnations understand."
"An Incarnation? Which one?"
"Fate."
"But Fate's my grandmother!"
"What?"
He doesn't know your ancestry, Jolie reminded her. He just learned of your immediate parentage, as you did, and has not yet made the connection to Lachesis.
"I'm the daughter of Nature and the granddaughter of Fate," Orlene continued. "That's why they sent Jolie to watch me. I didn't know while I lived, but now I do."
Disgruntled, he gazed at her. "Which Aspect?" he asked after a moment.
"Aspect?"
"Fate has three Aspects: Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, of ascending generations. I believe each originates with a different mortal woman. They share the body, but they are three distinct personalities. Which one is your grandmother—Atropos?"
Lachesis, Jolie prompted.
"Lachesis," Orlene said numbly. She hadn't realized that Fate was so complicated!
"I indulge with Clotho, the youngest," he said, relieved. "Voluptuous, bouncy, midnight-black hair—of course, she can change her form, they all can, but I think that's her rest state."
"What does Lachesis look like?"
"Somewhat like an older edition of Gaea, actually, with light hair—sometimes she buns it up and makes it brown, but, well, it's not far from the shade of yours, really."
"That would be my grandmother," Orlene said, relaxing. She understood how three separate women could share a single body, even when one indulged in sexual relations with a man not of the others' choosing. "It really isn't my business."
He seemed glad enough to let the subject change. "Now, how did you come to encounter Nox?"
"She has Gaw-Two. She took him when he came to Purgatory, and says she will give him to me if I can obtain the items I need to cure his malaise, which remains with him in death because it is of the soul, not the body. From Chronos, one grain of sand, apparently because one soul cannot be transcribed to another without a hitch in time, or something—I don't quite understand it, but am sure that it is so."
"It is so," he agreed. "But you would not be able to use such a grain that way. Time is a tool that only the Incarnation of time can wield. What the sand would actually do is summon me to itself—that is, to its possessor, you—at need, and I would then manage the hitch in time and take back the grain. But this, too, has a complication, At what time do you anticipate this operation?"
Years! Jolie thought, knowing that it well might not be done at all.
"Years hence, I fear."
"Then likely before my tenure. That would explain why the sand is necessary, because I cannot go tangibly beyond my own term of Office. I can go intangibly, and observe certain aspects of reality, but I cannot affect them. If, however, you carry such a grain with you to that time, I will be able to go to it and act in the limited way that relates to its purpose." He paced the floor, considering. "Since I may not commit my predecessor—you would think of him as my successor—to such an action, I think I must give you the grain of sand. I think I would have agreed to do this were you not my lover in life, and the baby not mine, so I can justify it now."
"Thank you, Norton," she said. Again she remembered her brief, horrible experience as a male. Did he expect her to... surely she did owe him that, considering. "Do you wish—"
"Here is the grain," he said abruptly, cutting her off. He touched the Hourglass and the grain appeared on his finger. "Do not lose it. I regret that I have other business now and must ask you to leave."
She took the grain, holding it tightly between thumb and forefinger. It tingled. "I... thank you, Norton."
"Welcome." He ushered her out.
Moments later she stood at the front door, alone, bemused by the suddenness of the conclusion. There is a generous man, Jolie thought.
Yeah, he was really hot for you, but he wouldn't let on, Vita agreed. He just hustled you out before he could give in to it.
"But I would have—if he had let me ask—I owed him so much—"
He didn't want you to buy that grain of sand, or pay for it, Jolie thought. He wanted to give it to you. He did.
"After what I did to him!" she said. "I had no business dying like that! I should have stayed with him and had another baby, but I just—" She choked herself off.
Let's get out of here before we meet you coming in, Jolie thought. She was impressed by Chronos' behavior, but now was not the time to dawdle.
"You do it," Orlene said. "I'm hurting again."
Indeed she was. Jolie resumed control of the body and walked briskly away from the mansion in the direction opposite to the one from which they had approached.
"Tomorrow we can tackle Fate," she said. "But today we had better get established in Satan's residence, so that we have a suitable base for operations."
It was a fair walk, and in this mortal body she was unable to turn a page in the fashion of Gaea to reach her destination instantly, or to fly ghost fashion, so it was afternoon by the time they reached it. Actually, Purgatory did not have days or seasons; time was meaningless here. But they were on Vita's living internal clock, and didn't fight it, thinking of time as they did in the mortal realm.
Satan's domicile, as perceived through their mortal eyes, was impressive, even awesome.
From outside it resembled the most forbidding of castles, with huge stone blocks forming a wall rising to an alarming height, enclosing a cylindrical central turret extending even higher. From the apex extended a pole which branched into a three-tined fork, from which flew a flag with the shape and color of a flame. Outside was a moat on whose surface fire danced, forming fleeting figures of demons who alternately beckoned and made obscene gestures.
Horrible! Orlene thought, though not really shocked.
Great! Vita thought, delighting in naughtiness.
"Isn't it a marvel?" Jolie inquired, pleased. "For centuries Satan's Purgatory residence was unmaintained, and Lucifer's before that, because he had no interest in this region and no undamned souls had interest in contacting him. But when I returned to animation as Gaea's companion, I did not deny my connection to Satan. I couldn't go to Hell on my own, only in her company, because I am not damned, but I wanted to maintain some liaison. So with the permission of the Incarnations of Nature and of Evil, I made a project of renovating the Purgatory Presence in my off moments. I made it a point to include all the classical symbols of the Office. When Satan saw it, he laughed so hard he sank through the ground and disappeared."
They walked the path to the moat. Now the flame figures became quite clear, putting on a show for the visitor. Male flames pursued female flames, caught them, and indulged in vigorous acts of fornication.
Appalling!
I wish Roque were here!
The main entry resembled the mouth of a dragon, gaping wide, as if in expectation of excellent prey. Small flames flickered within its dark maw. "Fresh meat!" Jolie called.
The dragon's mouth opened wider. Smoke billowed out. Then a huge red tongue rolled down to extend across the moat, its tip landing at the brink of the path. The flame figures retreated in alarm, except for one couple still engaged in amour. "Drawbridge," Jolie explained. "I gave it the password."
They crossed the drawbridge and approached the giant, ugly portcullis. It resembled enormous teeth projecting down, syrupy saliva dripping from their polished tips. As they passed under it, the teeth started down—and stopped, well above head height, after giving Orlene and Vita a scare. "Just a little extra fun," Jolie explained. "The mouth can't close without reprogramming, but it can give entrants a bit of a jolt."
Inside, two little demons appeared. One was male, wearing little trousers with a hole in back for his tail to emerge, the other female, with a skirt and a flamelike bow in her hair. "These are Dee and Dee," Jolie said. "Our poster models, for the lascivious recruit
ment campaign. They're not really demons, merely borderline damned souls who elected to work here. They were experienced; they'd been in Gaming before they died."
Oh, I've seen them! Vita thought. I remember the billboard with him peeking under the skirt of a luscious woman, and the legend "You Won't Find THAT in Heaven!"
"Yes, that has been one of our most popular numbers, dating from before my restored time," Jolie agreed. "And quite true too; God doesn't believe in fornication, once a soul has been Saved, so those who are interested in that sort of thing have to see to it as mortals, or in Hell."
I'm not sure I want to go to Heaven, Vita thought. I mean, bad sex is awful, sure enough, but good sex is great, with the right man. I know Roque's going to Heaven, and if I can't join him there and give him ah even better time than as a mortal, what's the point?
"That's not for the Bride of Satan to say," Jolie said, smiling. They followed Dee and Dee through the castle, getting the introductory tour. There was a central court with a garden of bloodsucking flowers and a pit of fire, with erotic statuary strategically placed. There was an excellent kitchen in which all manner of delicious foods were being prepared. There was a chamber for the storage of wealth, with gold and silver coins piled high, and buckets of gems: faceted diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires of many colors nested in beds of garnets. Pearl necklaces hung on racks, and iridescent opals sat on shelves. "Symbolic of the vices of man," Jolie said. "Gluttony, and greed for money."
But like the stuff in Mock Hell! Vita thought.
"No, actually these jewels are real. But their threat to man's virtue is the same. Wealth is perhaps Satan's most potent tool for the evocation of the evil that lies in mortals. But they cannot take it with them to the Afterlife, while the evil on their souls does indeed go with them. That is the disastrous nature of the choice they make."
You mean the food here isn't garbage?
"It isn't garbage—but it won't sustain your body, either. However, your body can exist for an indefinite time here in Purgatory, in much the way the souls here do; we don't need to eat."
I don't get it. What happens if we do eat here? ' "The danger, if we were going back and forth between Purgatory and the mortal realm, and only ate here, would be in thinking that it was pointless to eat there when all this excellent free food is available here. The body might feel satisfied, but it would be illusion; it would be running out of sustenance while in the mortal realm. So it is better to eschew the food here and eat only when in the mortal realm: that way natural hunger is a good guide." Too bad. Vita thought sadly.
They settled in the family room. "You should find Purgatory video interesting," Jolie remarked as the screen came on. "But it can be disquieting too."
A neutral announcer appeared. "Two ghosts and a mortal woman have taken up temporary residence in Hell's Acres," he said. "One ghost is Jolie, the former wife of the man who later assumed the Office of the Incarnation of Evil: she is unable to visit him in Hell, though it is rumored that she has found a way to get around that restriction. The other is Orlene, who committed the sin of suicide after losing her baby. Her history is becoming more interesting. She seems to be seeking out each Incarnation in turn, beginning with the nebulous Nox, who may have played an unkind prank on her."
What is this? Orlene demanded.
"The Purgatory News Service is always current and personal," Jolie explained. "It relates to whoever is watching it. So when Thanatos relaxes, he gets news of his doings, and when Gaea watches, she receives news others. I have never quite understood its mode of operation, but its targeting is always perfect."
But it didn't mention me. Vita fussed. "As for the mortal, she is Vita," the announcer said immediately. "She is the fifteen-year-old daughter of Vera, a leading researcher for Luna, the central figure in the approaching confrontation between Good and Evil. Raped by her father, she fled home and was driven to prostitution. Her mother was too upset by her unexplained absence to concentrate, so Luna arranged to have the visiting ghosts animate Vita's body and extricate her from a developing drug habit and life of sin. This was only partially successful: she instead became the mistress of a leading local judge, encouraging him to walk in the path of the unrighteous." That's a lie! Vita thought, furious. Roque's a good man! "The threat of scandal caused the judge to expel her from his residence," the announcer continued, unperturbed. "But her hold on him was too great, and the affair continued. It is difficult to tell at this stage how much harm will be done to the judge's reputation, let alone the balance of evil on his soul."
Damn! Damn! Vita thought, rage and pain mixing. I wouldn't hurt Roque for anything! They make it seem so—so sordid!
"Of course, the encouragement of such behavior might have been expected from the Bride of Satan," the announcer said smugly. "But it is a mystery why Orlene, a relatively chaste woman at the time of her death, should—"
Turn it off! Orlene thought.
"You mustn't take it too seriously," Jolie said as the screen went blank. "It speaks from a very moralistic view, because Purgatory is the place of moralism, where borderline souls are sorted for destination. Some of us disagree with this attitude, but it is best to be aware of it."
You're right, Orlene thought after a moment. We should hear it through.
Yeah, Vita thought. We shouldn't let it get to us. It's just twisting things.
Jolie turned the screen on again. "...support such mischief," the announcer continued, picking up precisely where cut off. "Now the three of them have taken the extremely unusual step of coming physically to Purgatory and staying at Hell's Acres. It will be interesting to see what activity they indulge in on the morrow."
Yeah? Well, you'll just have to wait, gossip monger! Vita thought fiercely.
"But we can tune it in to anyone we wish," Jolie said.
"Ozymandias, for instance."
The dour face of the erstwhile King of Kings appeared. "A greeting, Jolie," he said, recognizing her despite her current host. "Satan is out at the moment. May I take a message?"
"We are borrowing Hell's Acres while interviewing Incarnations," Jolie said. "Our next interview will be with Fate, and it could be awkward, because one of her Aspects is Orlene's grandmother. Is there anyone there who could give us good advice?"
He frowned. "This really is not the locale for good advice. However, evil advice is available. Here is the Magician."
A new face appeared on the screen: that of an aging, worn man, the set of whose jaw suggested a determination that mere death had not eclipsed. "Hello, Jolie; do you know me?"
"You're Luna's father!" Jolie exclaimed. "You spent a lifetime opposing Satan, only to finish in Hell! What an irony!"
"I did what I had to do," the Magician said. "Black magic is less limited than white magic, and the task was great, so I knowingly garnered evil on my soul in order to serve the greater good. I succeeded in guaranteeing the continued life of my daughter, so that she will be able to balk Satan's final ploy of this sequence, and I am satisfied to pay the price."
"But all that you did was for the cause of Good! To have you confined to Hell for that—"
"The end does not justify the means. I used unauthorized means. I do not protest my fate."
"I think I'd better put Orlene on," Jolie said. "She was left as a baby, to be adopted by others, and only after her death did she learn of her natural ancestry." She turned the body over to Orlene.
"So you were left as a baby," he remarked, interested. "So was I. It must run in the family."
"Magician, if you are Luna's father, what are you to me?" Orlene asked, flustered.
"I am in a manner your uncle," he replied. "And Luna is in a manner your cousin, despite the differential in your ages. You see, your mother Orb and I had the same mother Niobe, who is now Lachesis, the central Aspect of Fate. Orb and Luna thought of each other as sisters or cousins, but they were of different generations. Orb's parents were Luna's grandparents: Niobe and Pacian. Certainly we are close kin."
> "Uncle," Orlene said, fastening on that. "Then you will give me apt advice, though you are damned?"
"I will. What is it you intend to ask of Fate?"
"I need a thread of life, so that my baby's Afterlife can be changed and he will no longer have his malaise."
"You ask for a lot!" the Magician said. "She may be your grandmother, but she will not give you that without excellent reason. You will have to persuade her that it is somehow in me interest of the larger framework to do it."
"But it is only in my personal interest!"
He frowned, thinking. "You ask for this, for your baby? I think she will understand that, having had to leave her own baby and then having seen her daughter leave her baby. You represent the third generation in the family with problems with babies. Perhaps she will be moved." But he did not look confident.
"Thank you. Magician," Orlene said.
"I am glad to have seen you, Orlene, however late."
He clicked off.
The announcer reappeared. "There is an interesting development in the case of Orlene, who it seems is unashamed to contact Hell itself to—"
The screen went blank as Jolie took over the body. "Why don't we retire now? We don't need to sleep here, but we can if we choose, and I think it would help. We may have a big day tomorrow."
The other two agreed.
Chapter 8 - FATE
They did sleep, unnecessary as it might be here, and were refreshed in the morning, pointless as that designation might be, here. Then they set out on foot for Fate's Abode.
Jolie was familiar with it, of course, but it was new to the others. It was in the form of a huge spider web, with the residence fashioned like a cocoon of webbing.
"Fate is a triple entity," Jolie reminded them. "I believe that Lachesis would not try to interfere with any person's thread of life for purely personal reasons, and probably neither told the other Aspects which thread yours was nor paid any special attention to it herself. So the chances are that she won't recognize either Orlene or Vita."
So do we make our identities clear at the outset, or wait? Orlene asked.
Incarnations of Immortality Page 216
