The Book of Daniel (34 page)

And then suddenly I heard a voice.

Her
voice.

Jo.

“Dan. Stand up, Dan. You have always been my protector. Now God is calling on you to be a protector once again. Stand up. Stand up, my love. Have faith and
fight
.”

Her words were like the water of life. I had no idea where my strength came from, but suddenly I felt invigorated. I snapped my head up, Jo’s name already forming on my lips and my heart racing… but rather than Jo’s eyes, mine only met with Abraham’s instead. Nevertheless, her communication, even as brief as it had been, galvanised me into action. I knew what I had to do, what she wanted me to do, what God wanted me to do. The fact that Purgatory was lost didn’t alter the fact that at that moment, Harper—my friend—was in danger, and I was suddenly back in some kind of position to help her out. To Hell with the rest of Purgatory; that wasn’t my mess to fix, and Jo’s words had not given me
that
much power. But if I could save Harper, even if we were overrun by demons within seconds of my freeing her from Abraham’s clutches, I could at least die knowing I had done the right thing. WWJD.

At the sight of me struggling to my feet, Abraham turned his attention away from Harper. “It’s no good trying to stop me, Dan. Just give up. The words of power might not work against you, but I know that the Lord will not allow you to defeat His purpose! I am strong. I must not allow the unworthy to enter the Temple. I must stand guard at the gates of Heaven and use the power I have been given to ward off the demons and the sinners. You cannot enter!”

I spat out a tooth and some words. “You just don’t get it, do you, Abraham? I’m not trying to stop you or your damned incineration of Purgatory. That’s God’s job to do, not mine, and good luck to Him. I’m not trying to get past you and into Heaven, either. But I’m not just going to sit here twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the four fucking horsemen to turn up. And do you know why? Because of what you’ve just done to Harper. Quite apart from the fact that I’m not going to let you get away with hitting her like that, you’ve also just deprived her of the last chance she might have had to make her peace with God. She deserves that chance, and I’m going to do my best to give it back to her. I’m going to get her into that Temple, and you’re not going to be able to stop me.”

I finally made it back onto my feet, although whether my ability to do so was down to the revitalising effects of Jo’s words or because of my body’s natural restorative powers, I don’t know. Abraham’s look was half-amused, half-surprised.

“Dan, she’s had all the chances she needed. It’s too late for her now, and too late for you, too. Can’t you see judgement approaching?” He waved his arms towards the demons nearing the edges of the plaza, and I risked a quick look. I wished I hadn’t. “Your chance for salvation has passed, Dan. I can see that, and the look in your eyes tells me that you know it, too. But if you insist, I’d be happy to be the one to send you on your way to eternal damnation.”

Time was running out. It was clear that there was no reasoning with Abraham, and that to try to persuade him to let me take Harper inside in peace was just a waste of what little time did remain. And with that realisation, I knew that the time for talking was through.

I lurched towards Abraham, my bare fists balled up and ready to strike. I wished I still had my sword. Like Jack, I found myself somewhat unsettled without a blade in my hand—although I wasn’t quite so unsettled as to start giving mine a name and talking to it. But if I was beginning to think that much like Jack, maybe it was a good thing that my time in Purgatory was coming to an end. I felt quite calm about the fact that I would likely be dead and damned within the next few minutes. Perhaps that idea had lost its shock value earlier, when I’d been so full of despair that I had tried to take my own life. Whatever it was, the pain that travelled up my arm as my fist connected with Abraham’s chest seemed distant somehow, almost as if the arm belonged to someone else. Which, thinking about it, I suppose it did.

Unsurprisingly, my punch had about as much of an effect as a baseball bat hitting a tank. But the ferocity with which I had launched myself at Abraham carried me forwards, and as I continued to rain the blows down on him, his balance grew less and less steady. One of his knees buckled under my onslaught, and for one crazy moment, I thought that was it. Victory.

Of course, nothing in Purgatory was that easy.

Realising that the fight to maintain his balance was lost, Abraham instead chose to roll with his fall, and both of us tipped over into the dirt. We thrashed about, each of us hoping to regain his footing ahead of his opponent, but it was clear that Abraham had the advantage. His gauntlets pummelled and tore at my armour and body, relentless, raining down on me like the Fallen descending on New Jerusalem, whereas with every blow I landed on him, my bare fists screamed louder and louder in protest, freely weeping blood. I knew I had to get clear of him, not just because I was outclassed, but because time was very much on his side. All he had to do was keep me occupied for a little bit longer, and it would all be over for Harper and me. But how could I break free?

Suddenly, it hit me—literally. There was a searing pain across my cheek as Abraham rammed home another blow, but as he pulled back his fist to punch me again, I noticed the medallion still clutched in his hand, its chain knotted around his fingers. Before he had a chance to stop me, I grabbed for the medallion, ripping it from his hand—but by then my fingers were so crippled that I was unable to hold on to it myself, and the amulet spun away through the air. Abraham’s eyes widened in horror the instant it left his grasp, and he suddenly lost interest in trying to kill me, scrambling after his precious talisman instead.

I was only too happy to let him go. I could feel my body’s repair mechanisms struggling to keep up with Abraham’s attacks, especially after what they had already been put through that day. I knew I couldn’t take much more punishment, but I kept telling myself that all I had to do was get Harper up those stairs and somehow everything would be alright. I clenched my remaining teeth together and somehow managed to get to my feet again. Leaving Abraham preoccupied and scrabbling around in the dust, I staggered over to where Harper was slowly regaining consciousness.

The welt where Abraham had struck her was already fading, but even so, I felt a fresh surge of anger at his treatment of her. Once I had gotten her safely inside, I would take great joy in teaching him a few manners. Business before pleasure, though: the first thing to do was to get Harper back on her feet. I did my best to help her up, but my grip was slick with blood and dirt, and my fingers were weak from hammering against Abraham’s armour. It didn’t help that Harper kept trying to brush me away—though not as forcefully as I’m sure she could have done.

“I’m alright, damn it. You just worry about getting yourself out of here before Judas Junior over there finishes picking up his thirty pieces of silver. I’ll catch up in a moment.”

“No way, Harper. It’s not going to take him long, and then he’ll be back over here again, ready to resume his holy war, twice as mad as before, if that’s possible. I’m not going to let you face that.”

“Don’t be stupid, Dan,” she said, exasperatedly. “Look at the state of you. You don’t stand a chance against him! Get up those stairs. We don’t have time to argue about it. Assuming that any of us make it out of here alive, you’ve got your wife to think about.”

“No. It’s precisely because of what Jo would want that I’m going to stay here and keep this tosser busy while you get to safety. And you’re right, we don’t have time to argue about it, so get moving. Trust me.”

Harper peered at me carefully, torn between arguing further and obeying her survival instincts. I didn’t have time to explain that this wasn’t just some macho gesture I was making, and that there were other reasons behind my stand, but in the end, perhaps the look on my face was enough to convince her. “Alright, Hero, you win,” she said. “But just so you know, the first thing I’m going to do when I get up there is gather up a bunch of soldiers and come straight back down here again to bail you out.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that by the time she did so it would probably already be too late, but I could see from her eyes that I didn’t have to. Instead, I clapped her on the shoulder, partly to reassure her, but at the same time pushing her towards the stairs. “Thanks, Harper. And good luck.”

I turned to face Abraham again, not only before my resolve broke, but also because I’d had my back turned towards him for far too long. He had already begun to stomp his way towards me, the medallion dangling from his grip like a headhunter’s trophy. His smile, wicked and curved like a blade, glittered with both triumph and rage. Behind me, I heard the sweet sound of Harper’s footsteps slowly heading up the stairs.

“Nice try, Dan! Very clever. But you should have taken the opportunity to get yourself to safety instead of wasting your life on empty heroic gestures. Or did you think that perhaps your little act of sacrifice would soften God’s heart? Ha! One corrupt life in return for all the hundreds of others you’ve already delivered into eternal slavery? The scales of justice are not so easily balanced, Dan. You
will
pay for your sins. It’s too late for you now! It’s too late for both of you!”

My heart sank as he strode towards me. His body seemed as perfect as the day it had been Newborn, whereas every part of my own ached for rest. But I wasn’t going to give in, no matter how daunted I felt. Not this time. Even as Abraham slipped the medallion and its poisonous words back around his neck, making sure to tuck them safely inside his armour, I felt curiously unafraid. I knew there would be no second chance for me to separate him from his source of protection, but it didn’t seem to matter. I was armed with words of power of my own now, similarly close to my heart; and I felt that with this blessing of Jo’s—maybe even God’s blessing too, who knows—I could make a stand against this maniac. Like everybody in Purgatory kept telling me, all I had to do was have faith.

Abraham’s first blow ploughed towards me with the confidence of a foregone conclusion. To him, getting past me was merely a formality. But I was ready for his attack, and instead of collapsing to the ground in defeat, I took advantage of the momentum behind his punch to throw him off balance. His look of gloating victory turned into a snarl as I flung him to the ground and jumped on him.

My triumph didn’t last long. After landing no more than a few glancing blows on my opponent, I suddenly found myself at the receiving end of a kick that sent me flying over his shoulder. Before I had a chance to recover, Abraham rolled on top of me, our positions now the reverse of what they had been a moment earlier. With a feral grin, Abraham began to strike at me with his gauntlets, the wrath of his version of God behind every blow that plummeted towards me. I tried my best to ward off his fury, but with every punch that I deflected, I could feel the bones in my arms shattering.

Even the imminent prospect of an eternity in Hell seemed like a walk in the park in comparison to the pain that flooded through me. I’m sure that if Abraham had focussed his efforts on me for just a few seconds longer than he did, I would have succumbed to the lure of oblivion, with or without Jo’s words and the determination they had infused me with. However, to Abraham, bringing Harper to justice for the imaginary sins she had committed against him was more important, and he struggled to his feet as soon as he thought I was sufficiently subdued, straining at the leash to resume his pursuit of her. But just as he was about to break free, I somehow found the strength to grab hold of one of his legs, and he fell again. He rounded on me, snarling like a rabid dog, clawing in fury at my feeble grasp.

“No! Let go of me! She must not be allowed to escape. She must be punished for her sins!”

“Only God has the right to do that, you prick, and based on what you’ve done to Purgatory, I imagine you’re nearer the top of His list than she is.”

Before Abraham could respond, either verbally or physically, salvation came—and from a most unexpected source. For some time, I had thought I felt an uneven thrum coming from the ground, but I had dismissed it as a side effect of having been repeatedly punched in the head by Abraham. But when a chorus of demonic howls suddenly filled the air, it became clear that the cause of the vibration was shockingly real. With dread in my heart, I risked a look behind me, and what I saw confirmed the worst of my fears: the demons were now approaching the Temple.

Even Abraham was not so intent on his crusade as to ignore such a stark warning. As the air around us throbbed with the demons’ yowling, his head snapped up, and a bright grin of pure joy slid onto his face. Enraptured, his hands reached towards his neck, searching for the comfort and protection of the precious medallion:
his
medallion, not mine, not anymore. He leapt to his feet, leaving my carcass in the dirt. I half-heartedly rolled after him, strangely outraged at being so suddenly neglected, but I needn’t have worried that he was finished with me. Rather than trying to deal with Harper and me himself—especially since by now she was well out of his reach, I was relieved to see—it seemed that Abraham instead intended to enlist the aid of his demonic allies. A feeling of bitter triumph swelled up inside of me. Abraham may have bested me in combat, but I had achieved what I had set out to do: Harper was safe. Abraham obviously didn’t realise that his reinforcements would be completely impotent against the Temple and its divine shield... and maybe while he and his friends were occupied with trying to achieve the impossible, I might even be able to crawl up the stairs and into the Temple myself. At the speed the demons were boiling across the plaza towards us, there wasn’t much time to make it to safety, but I owed it to Jo to try. I offered up as brief a prayer as you can imagine—“please, God”—and began to drag myself towards the steps.

I had barely started the long, painful journey when a new and ominous sound rose above the general cacophony of the approaching horde. It took me a moment to recognise it for what it was: the sound of Abraham chanting. I looked back over my shoulder, knowing full well that to do so could turn what little hope I fostered to despair, but unable to resist. Abraham stood there with his back towards me, arms held wide as if to embrace the fiends. The words radiating from his mouth were in no language that even the gift of tongues could interpret, but it was clearly not one that had ever been intended to come from a human mouth. As I watched, a sickly green aura began to shimmer around Abraham’s body, quickly gaining strength and intensity until it was almost impossible to look directly at it. The demons heading towards him skidded to a halt or began to swerve either side of him, afraid to come into contact with this holy—or unholy—fire. Satisfied that his protective shield was in place, Abraham turned his glowing, green-tinged face back in my direction. A smile of triumph blossomed there like a horrid flower, and if he had not been intent on maintaining his chant, I had no doubt that he would have gladly launched into another sermon reiterating his deluded beliefs and spewing righteous judgement towards Harper and me.