Angel Dust (26 page)

‘Lord save me,' I whispered.

A column of white swept up at us. Kamuel unlaced my fingers from his arm. He took a rope from the folds of his robe. He twisted it into a noose. He handed me the rope; looked at me with a cold clear eye. ‘Jump,' he said, ‘if it's what you want.'

I read his message only too plainly: you think you want to Fall. I know your mind. You wish to become mortal. Go ahead, Fall, sin, reap the joys of temporal existence, reap the kisses and the touch of flesh. Reap the whirlwind. Throw away immortality. Live. Die. Perish!

I couldn't speak. I just stared dumbly up at him.

He waved a wing. A rainbow sprang up over the Abyss, a giant portal.

‘Serafina, perhaps you see into my mind as I see into yours,' he said. ‘I will not stay for the Great Purge. I intend to leave Heaven, soon – perhaps for ever.'

‘Why?' I said, confused. ‘Where will you go?'

‘I will go far,' he said, ‘to that wasteland where the dead await salvation, even as far as Mount Purgatory itself. I will set up our Mission there and work tirelessly to save souls. I will do God's Will in Purgatorium.'

The air around us trembled. I was sure I could hear the distinct tramp of feet. Hard boots on hard stone.

‘You said you wanted to save souls?'

The pounding of feet grew steadily nearer.

‘Come there with me, Serafina?'

God's Army were on the move.

‘Why jump into that Abyss?'

The trumpets sounded and the drum beat began. Maybe they were coming for me.

‘What do you say?' demanded Kamuel. His face was as hard as the granite drop before us. ‘You want to leave Heaven. I need a fellow worker. We can both escape from the madness of this Purge – and I need you there.'

Go to Purgatorium with Kamuel? Work amongst the unsaved souls?

‘Surely this is more important work than anything on Earth?' demanded Kamuel.

‘I suppose it is,' I whispered, but inside I was yelling, NO! NO! NEVER! NEVER!

Kamuel unfurled his dread wings. ‘Surrender yourself to God's Will, relinquish Earth, rise to a higher purpose.'

‘God's Army are coming,' I cried. ‘If we wait here a moment longer, we'll be discovered.'

Kamuel smote his breast with a clenched fist. ‘The work, Serafina, is all that matters.'

‘I can't!'
I cried. And I bent my head, for to refuse an order from an Archangel is a terrible thing.

Over the crest of the Sapphire Mountains lightning flashed.

Kamuel looked as fixed as the rock around us.

I looked from him to the Abyss. A spectre seemed to rise before me, the image of Marcus standing at the River Styx. He'd turned his head and called out to me. My feathers shivered, all the little wisps of down on my under-wings stood on end. The flesh on my bones chilled. My mind was made up. Marcus could not do it alone. I had promised him I'd be there. I would go to Hell with him if he wanted. Who else would?

‘I can't come with you,' I said to Kamuel. ‘I can't.'

The trumpets sounded nearer, the tramp of feet, the smell of boot polish. I heard over the rush of air the sound of Jehudiel. ‘SURRENDER YOURSELF. We know who you are. You have betrayed Heaven.'

‘
You do not want to save souls at all, do you?
' said Kamuel, suddenly understanding.

I shook my head, for I too understood. Gone were my pretences, gone my self-deceit, and in that instant I knew my own heart. Marcus wanted me. I wanted him.

I longed for his touch
,
his skin on my skin.

I wanted to feel his love, surrender to his force. I wanted union with him so that we could truly be one.

Nothing else mattered.

I loved Marcus.

I drew myself proudly up, I spread my fiery wings. I kept my fires ablaze. I was no longer ashamed. I thought of Marcus. I burned for him. I burned and burned and filled the sky with scorching heat.

I kept my eyes smouldering; I swept Kamuel's arm off me, I stepped right to the edge of Paradise where the Cliffs of Fall began. I looked over the rim of the great Abyss. That twisting drop, seething in smoky plumes, falling away into wispy nothingness. The wind moaned up. The boiling clouds churned in the very depths of the void.

I stepped out on to the furthest pinnacle.

I slipped the noose around my wings.

I stood with the bottomless chasm at my feet.

I pulled the rope tight.

‘
Please,
' cried Kamuel.

‘Marcus!' I shouted.

And I threw myself down.

Marcus.

My choice.

Air dashed against me, bruised my face, tore at my raiment. Gasping, guttering, sinking, I gulped and found only the void. Vainly I strained with my wings to fly. Vainly I crushed my feathers: but the rope held tight. Down, down into the ever-darkening Abyss, twisting, turning, straining.

On and on, I fell.

Sometimes upright.

Sometimes spun in strange vertigo.

Down. Ever Down.

‘Oh help me, Lord,'
I cried. But barely had the words left my lips when tornadoes of air ripped them apart and scattered them behind me. There was none to hear. My head swam. Clouds blasted against me. I closed up my eyes.
‘Oh God forgive me,'
I whispered. And with a cry of despair I remembered something terrible: they said Satan fell for nine days.
Nine days?
Surely not?
I should have checked.
I would never get there. The 31st was the day after tomorrow.

A hurricane howled. I pulled at my wings. The noose held firm. I remembered my purpose. I remembered the kit and Larry's words: ‘
You find a crossroads, you blow the whistle
.'

I was at a crossroads. Above me lay Heaven – below me surely Hell.

Between Heaven and Hell, between Good and Evil, between angel and mortal, what greater crossroads?

So I twisted in my fall. I threw aside my raiment until it tangled with my limbs. I drew from around my neck the whistle.

And I blew it.

Far way through the firmament I heard them. Cruel voices singing. No, not really singing – chanting maybe, intoning, howling. I rode the air. I set my fires to burn brightly. But even as I did so, a gale howled up out of the Abyss.

‘We are the hounds from Hell

We come when you ring the bell.'

‘Whistle,' said one very loud flat voice. ‘Not bell. Whistle.'

‘Doesn't rhyme,' said another voice.

The song continued:

‘We are the hounds from Hell,

We come because you Fell.'

And through the mists I saw something. At first it looked like a huge fireball bowling straight at me, but as it drew closer I saw that it was a giant wheel the colour of beryl, tinted by impurities; green, blue, yellow, red, and white – and all along its circumference flames raged. It was being rolled through the air – half pushed, half dragged by two gigantic dogs.

As they drew closer I saw my mistake. Neither were dogs. The larger was definitely a wolf. The smaller was a being with a jackal's head. From the oily blackness slipping all around them I knew at once they were both demons.

‘You called, madam?' said the first demon. ‘Allow us to introduce ourselves. This is Marchosias, and I'm Anupu, King of the Abyss.'

‘You're not King of the Abyss,' said Marchosias.

Anupu opened his jaws, lunged at Marchosias and cracked his teeth together with a ghastly snapping sound. All around us the elements writhed.

‘Missed,' remarked Marchosias. ‘Get her to the eye of the storm.'

The two hounds suddenly pounced at me. Desperately trying to escape their deadly teeth, I spun sideways.

The wind dropped.

They dragged the wheel closer. They flipped it on to its side. Marchosias slavered and sent up an eerie howl. ‘Come on,' he said. ‘Hurry up and get on it – we're not doing overtime.'

‘
Get on the wheel?
' I gasped.

‘We are the hounds from Hell

We're here to perform the spell,'
chanted Anupu.

‘Ritual,' said Marchosias. ‘Not spell.'

‘Doesn't rhyme,' said Anupu.

Then without warning the two animals jumped on me. Legs, arms, head, shoulders. Their teeth clicked too, imprisoning me. I screamed. They stretched me out. I kicked at them, fought as best I could. I tried to escape.

‘Hey you,' snarled Marchosias. He slashed me with a razor paw. ‘D'you want to become human or not?'

‘Yes,' I whispered, terrified.

‘Then let us get on with the job,' he growled.

Without further notice they tied me down, spreadeagled me on the burning wheel: north, south, east, west, until my body made a five-pointed star. I opened my throat and screamed. Then with one mighty heave they spun the wheel.

The vacuum twisted. The flames leapt. A vast spiral of air – and I was spinning at the centre of a thin whirlwind.

‘OK,' barked Marchosias, ‘this is your cue, Anupu. Give it your best.'

Before I knew what was happening Anupu jumped on to my chest and in fierce biting motions snapped his teeth together over me, crooning:

‘I am a hound from Hell

And this is the bit I do well

I'm making the sign of the cross . . .'

He snapped again in a ghastly parody of the Kabbalistic cross. His spittle dripped down on me and the stench of sulphur overcame me.

‘
You summoned me up from my lair

Spirit, water, fire, earth and air . . .
'

‘Give it some proper poetry,' yowled Marchosias.

I tightened my lips, praying I wouldn't faint.

‘Whatever – it'll have to do –' snarled Anupu. ‘Get the kit; I've got the whistle.' He ripped it from around my neck.

Marchosias jerked the D.I.Y. kit out of my grasp. He swept the contents into his grip. The instruction sheet flailed beneath his paw, flapped in his muzzle.

I struggled, but all the bands held good.

In that gloomy light, in that rush of vile air, he read: ‘
Guidelines for casting extreme Black Magic. Once you have performed the Supreme Invoking Ritual of the Pentagram
(“I'm not doing it again,” growled Anupu)
it's time to Summon the Devil
.'

‘Check everything's there,' yelped Anupu. ‘One black candle, a packet of dust, a handful of bones, a blade, a bottle of water, a rock of salt.'

‘Yep,' said Marchosias.

‘Right, you can do this bit,' said Anupu. He threw the whistle at him. ‘Blow the whistle at Raphael. Pour the water over Gabriel. Extinguish the candle for Michael. Throw the salt at Ariel.'

With what seemed like one smooth, practised motion Marchosias did it all. In some kind of twisted irony I thought how easily – thus – is the power of the Senior Team dismissed by the gyrations of a devil dog.

‘Place the bones in her right hand. Sprinkle the corpse dust over them. Slice her palm. Let the blood water it. Chant the conjuration:
Power of Death, Power of Life, Let the Devil Live and Rise Again.
'

Marchosias jumped to my side, slit the palm of my left hand open, crushed the bones in, sprinkled the dust on, squeezed my hand into a fist until the blood trickled through. And then he chanted the summoning spell, the words of power:

‘Right, we're done,' said Marchosias.

And just like that they turned and trotted off, leaving me still tied to the wheel.

‘Come back,'
I yelled. But they didn't even twitch their tails.

I let out a deep groan. They crooned as they disappeared into the void:

‘We are the hounds from Hell

And this is our dog-ger-el.'

‘Rhyme,' said Marchosias.

‘Doesn't,' said Anupu.

And they were gone.

A howling sounded out of the Abyss. I waited, heart beating. The chasm swirled with choking sulphur.
My wrists. My ankles.
A fog of brimstone ascended. Oily shadows slithered and seeped into the air around me.
Help me
, I screamed.

But no help in the form of either devil dogs or demons came.

Instead ice formed on the wind. From far away came the sound of screaming. Invisible hands plucked at my raiment. The vortex shattered. The sulphur contracted into a dense column. It swirled as if a thousand snakes had been enchanted to writhe in it. Thicker and thicker, bubbling and howling.

Then silence.

Pale as a corpse, a face materialised. White like death, it turned towards me. Two eyes stared out of its shadowy depths.

Beads of sweat broke out on my brow. My teeth rattled. A shivering took hold of me. This was it.

I'd summoned Satan.

‘What do you want?' echoed a booming voice. I'm not sure now if anyone really spoke or the words just sounded in my head.

My throat dried up. I quaked at the thing I was about to do. I remembered Marcus, his eyes, his crooked smile, my promise, remembered that Halloween was only two days away.

So I took courage. ‘I want to become human,' I said, teeth chattering, ‘and I wish to live on Earth. And please take me to Curlston Heights by 30th October,' I squeaked, for I remembered that the Devil is tricky and unless you are very clear about what and when and where, he will twist your wish until it becomes your curse.

The column of sulphur seethed.

This was it. I was really doing it.

And so I should be.

Marcus had tried to change for me. And he deserved no less. And if only he'd succeeded everything might have been different. If only the Crow hadn't found out about his statement. Suddenly that seemed odd. How exactly
had
the Crow found out?