Jeffrey Thomas, Voices from Hades (22 page)

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Authors: Jeffrey Thomas

BOOK: Jeffrey Thomas, Voices from Hades
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At last, only Michael, Roger and Mark stood in the doorway, looking back into the Skull—meeting the gaze of all those glittering black eyes, and the more human eyes of the Apsaras.
"I’m immortal," Michael said to the Demons, like troops gathered for his inspection. "You’re not. If you ever touch my boy again…if you ever go near him, or try to take revenge on this man," he nodded toward Roger, "I’ll spend eternity killing every last one of you mother fuckers."
And with that, the two bloody men and the boy between them stepped wearily out of the Skull.
9: The Family
The child slept on the little sofa they had purchased from a shop in the city, where the Damned manufactured crude furniture, and he was covered under a quilt Davina herself had sewn together from scraps of cloth she’d collected. She sat on the very edge of the sofa, lightly caressing his forehead, her brown fingers trailing over the raised U branded there…a wound his body hadn’t been allowed to regenerate. She had told him it stood for "Unbelievably Cute."
Roger sat in a chair opposite, shirtless. The groove in his chest was raw pink with puckered edges, but no longer an entrance to his interior. He watched his lover’s face, the way her uncanny huge eyes glistened. Still weak, he used the chair’s arms to push himself to his feet, crossed to her, took her head against his chest and stroked her thick hair. He heard her sniffle, felt her kiss his healing scar.
"He won’t really stay, will he? He says that now…but don’t you think he’ll change his mind?"
Roger knew the man better than she. "No, my love. I think he means it."
"But he won’t be allowed to, will he? Aren’t they told how much time they can spend here? Isn’t there a limit?"
"I don’t believe there is. I think he can stay here as long as he wants. Forever, if he likes."
"But his wife won’t want to, I’m sure."
"Yes, that’s the only thing. She isn’t the boy’s natural mother." He regretted the words the moment he said them. Davina’s head lifted, as he knew it would.
"Neither am I, his natural mother. But she may love him enough to remain here, too…do you think?"
"I don’t know her, my dear. We haven’t met her. We can’t say."
"I hope she doesn’t love him as I do." Davina looked down at the boy again.
"That isn’t a good thing to wish, Davina."
"But do you want to let him go? After all you went through to get him back?"
"I went through that to take him from the hands of Demons, who meant to torture him. But these are the hands of his father…who loves him enough to leave behind the Paradise most of us down here will yearn for, forever."
"I don’t begrudge him," Davina moaned. "How can I hate the man my son loves? And I thank him, for what he did. But I only wish…I only wish he would go home. Just come back to visit from time to time."
"I know, love." His hand slid down and inside her veil of hair to stroke her wet cheek. "I feel the same way. We just have to wait, and see…"
««—»»
After his experience inside the Skull, Michael and Dawn would not enter into the administrative building of the Demons, with its Art Deco winged baboons flanking the front steps, until a carriage arrived in Apollyon bearing an Angel accompanied by two Celestials—an androgynous heavenly race, almost ghost-like in their silence and with their empty stares, but wearing all-too-solid swords in scabbards.
The Angel had been a priest in life, so in the afterlife had been given a position of some authority. When he and his guardians stepped down from the carriage and the couple moved forward to meet him, he pushed back the hood of his white robe and beamed a smile, extending his hand. Michael felt a kind of disgust for him already. Weren’t the Demons better, in a way? They didn’t hide their hatred for the Damned behind bright grins. Well, except for the Kilcrops…
"So nice to meet you," the man said, next pressing Dawn’s hand between his two. "I’m Reverend Worthy." In life he had been called Father Worthy, but in Heaven there could only be the one great Father. "Shall we go inside to talk?"
Finally, Michael consented to enter the building that he hadn’t been in since Iblis Al-Qadim had taken him here to consult the goat-headed Baphomet. He saw that entity watching them from across the foyer as Worthy led them to a doorway. A corridor beyond, but no Demons waiting to ambush him, no ticks springing from holes in the walls to slash at him. They entered a small office, where Worthy seated himself behind a black marble desk. The Palladinos sat in front of it.
"So…" began Reverend Worthy.
"So," cut in Michael, "my son…Mark. I’d like to take him back to Heaven with me."
The former priest’s smile rippled at the corners. "Ohhh, Mr. Palladino…I’m so sorry, but that is utterly out of the question. It’s impossible—just not allowed."
"Maybe because no one has persisted before. Maybe the Creator could make an exception."
"You must know…
many
 people have persisted before. But the Creator can make no exceptions; it would be against the very reason that Hades, and more importantly Heaven, exist. But I am truly so sorry." He spread his hands, which Michael had found too soft and puffy.
He saw Dawn look over at him, as he lowered his head and nodded. "I understand. I didn’t expect you to say yes…but I had to ask, anyway." He didn’t add that he had promised his wife he would try. That it had been her idea to ask. But he was actually relieved, in a way, by the Angel’s words. How could he think to take his son into Paradise, away from the two people in Hades who adored him? Could all the replica Disney theme parks and replica McDonald’s burger stops and glittering shopping malls in Heaven replace those two Damned souls?
"Well," Reverend Worthy said, "I’m told you were considering remaining in Hades, then."
"Yes." Michael raised his head, but was afraid to meet the eyes of the woman seated beside him. "It’s my choice to do so."
"It’s…something you are
allowed
 to do. But do you know how very awful it is in this place?"
"I believe that’s been well illustrated for me," Michael said ominously.
"Yes…of course. Well, as I say, it is permissible. An uncommon request, but not without precedent. And you…Mrs. Palladino?"
At last, Michael summoned the strength to look over at her, but now it was she who lowered her head and murmured, "I won’t be staying."
The former priest nodded slowly, looking suitably pained by their dilemma. "I see. But you know you can visit your husband here any time you wish…and he can visit you, without his son, as often as he likes."
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Will you be returning with me, then, to the palace?" It was the palace where the governor Iblis Al-Qadim had resided, also housing the portal through which these Angels had entered into Hades.
"Yes, Reverend. I just…I just need to talk to my husband alone, first."
"Of course, of course." Worthy floated to his feet, out from behind the desk. Michael hated the perfumed proximity of him. "I will leave you two alone to talk for as long as you wish. In the meantime I will be speaking with the Baphomet, Mr. Palladino…to instruct him that you are not to be interfered with."
"And my son. And those two Damned."
"I cannot guarantee that any Damned soul will not be punished…all I can guarantee is that you will not be opposed, if you step in to protect them."
"However you want to phrase it," Michael said darkly.
"A devoted parent, to be sure. You are to be admired."
"If only the Father of all children were as devoted…eh, Reverend?"
"Michael," Dawn whispered.
The former priest’s smile faltered more than before. "I know your pain makes you…unaware of what you say, Mr. Palladino."
"I am only too aware of what I say. And maybe now you think Hades is the place I should have been sent to all along."
"I would not think that. The Father, in His great love for you, judged that you should be in Paradise."
"I’m sorry to disappoint Him, in not wanting to be there any longer. Then again…He’s been a disappointment to me, too."
For several moments Reverend Worthy looked horrified, as if afraid to be consumed along with Michael should a lightning bolt crash through the ceiling just then. But there was no sign at all that the Creator was even in attendance, and now it was Michael who reached to shake hands, squeezing the other man’s filmy silk handkerchief of a hand in his own firm grip.
"Goodbye, Reverend."
««—»»
There was a knock on their door, and Roger went to it with his shotgun ready. He let it droop when Michael crossed the threshold.
"You won’t need that anymore," he said, gesturing at the weapon.
"I’ll still feel better to keep it." Roger tilted his head toward the sofa behind him. "He’s sleeping."
Michael stepped close to the sofa to gaze down at Mark’s gentle profile, his mouth open against a pillow. The room’s stinging blue light made it appear as though the boy had fallen asleep in the glow from a TV, as when he had been alive. "Let him sleep," he whispered, then he looked up at Davina—who had risen to her bare feet. "Thank you, for taking care of my boy."
She nodded, but crossed her arms tightly.
"Back at the Demon outpost, there, I acquired a lot of the money you people use here, when I told them I’d be staying in Hades."
"I don’t want your money," Davina told him.
"I didn’t mean it the way you think, Davina. What I was going to say is, I paid your next door neighbors, over here, to move to another apartment…so I can have that one." He turned to study one of the room’s walls, rubbing his goateed chin. "We could put a door right there, don’t you think? So Mark can go through it, any time he wants?" He shifted his eyes to meet Roger’s. "So that one house is no more his house than the other?"
Roger’s eyes began to fill. "Thank you," he managed.
"Well, I’m not as unselfish as all that," the Angel replied. "It’s for this guy." He smiled down at his child, but a half-stifled sob made him look up at Davina. She came to him, put her arms around him. He laughed uncomfortably, patted her back, "Hey, you can share my son, but you can’t share me…sorry." He flicked his chin at Roger. "This guy is pretty bad-ass…I wouldn’t want to mess with him."
"What about your wife?" Davina asked huskily.
He slid out of her embrace, his smile strained. "No," was all he could answer.
««—»»
Another knocking at the door, and this time Michael rose to answer it. Despite what he’d told Roger earlier, he brought his M16 with him. Mark was awake now, and watched his father with concern.
Michael unlocked and opened the door to see Dawn standing in the hallway beyond, escorted by the two eerie Celestials.
"Honey…" Michael said.
He saw that her eyes were red, but she smiled and told him, "I’m staying, too."
Michael pulled her through the door, into his arms. The ethereal Celestials looked on without feeling. After they had held each other for a good minute, Dawn peered over her husband’s shoulder and said, "Hi, baby…"
Mark approached them uneasily, but Dawn gathered him into their embrace.
"I’m sorry, Dawn," he mumbled.
"Shhh. I love you, baby," she said, her lips moving against the top of his head.
Roger slipped his arm around Davina, should she become troubled by the sight of the reunited family, but she was content and whispered to him, "What about Mark’s real mother, when she dies? She was an atheist; she’ll be here. But we Damned can’t see our loved ones from when we were alive—we’re kept impossible distances apart. So do you think Michael can make them bring Mark’s mother here, too?"
"I don’t know if that’s possible," he told her. "But this man is…rather determined. And there’s always the apartment of our neighbors, on the other side." He indicated the opposite wall.

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