To Reign in Hell: A Novel (6 page)

“And Lucifer, too, eh? And make sure Lilith stays safe?”

“Not likely, I’m afraid. The Firstborn will all do whatever they do, and I’m not going to be able to influence that.”

“But it’s still worthwhile.”

“Oh, yes. But, would I do a good job of it?”

“Piffle! What’s to do? All it takes is the willingness to see that the job gets done, no matter what. And that seems to be the thing that Satan doesn’t have, for all his accomplishments.”

“Why, you’re right! The one angel who shouldn’t have doubts is the one who does! If Yaweh does open his eyes, and tells Satan to step aside, it would be best for the Plan, too.”

“Ah, but what if Yaweh doesn’t open his eyes? He and Satan are the oldest friends in Heaven! Yaweh will probably just keep on, and let the whole Plan suffer for it.”

“Well, is there anything that can be done about that?”

“I don’t see what. Except stay alert, and see what opportunities present themselves.”

“Couldn’t I create an opportunity?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to see what happens.”

“Then why am I walking about here? I think it’s time to look around a bit, and see what’s going on. Maybe there’s a way to push Lord Satan a bit in the right direction. Maybe there is, indeed.”

“Sith! Hold a moment.”

“Hello, Kyriel. Goes all well with you?”

“I’m not sure. Have you heard?”

“Since that question implies that I ought to know what it is about, and since I don’t, I guess I haven’t.”

“I know what the big plan is.”

“Really? What is it, then?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly, but as I hear it, they want to do something to the walls so that nothing can get in anymore, and we don’t have to worry about more Waves.”

“Is that possible?”

“It’s what I’ve heard.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Rachsiel told me. She heard it from Cuniali, who heard it from Tetra, who heard it from Sagsagel, who heard it from Loquel, who lives right in Yaweh’s Palace, you know.”

“Yeah, that makes it pretty definite.”

“It sure does.”

“Well, it’s wonderful, if it’s true.”

“Wonderful? You think so? Well, then, listen to this: to do it, they’re going to have to have
us
do the work, and some of us might be destroyed doing it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“As serious as the flux.”

“Where will they find angels willing to destroy themselves?”

“Where does the ‘willing’ come from?”

“Well, Lord Lucifer? Can you help me?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I don’t see why not, Abdiel. It will be rather lengthy, but—”

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind Abdiel.

He turned around and said, “Greetings, my Lady Lilith.”

She ignored him and spoke directly to Lucifer. “I happened to overhear,”

Abdiel cursed under his breath. Lucifer looked an inquiry at Lilith. She addressed herself to Abdiel directly, then. “Why ask these questions? You’ve never been the curious type before.”

Abdiel smiled, leaned back against a tree, stretched his legs, and pretended he was comfortable.

“Nor am I now,” he said.

“Well then?”

Abdiel shrugged, but Lilith still looked at him closely, as if expecting an answer, and Lucifer was becoming curious as well.

“It’s . . . an idea I had.”

“What kind of idea?” asked Lucifer.

“For the Plan, Lord Lucifer.”

“Then why haven’t I heard about it?”

“It’s my own idea, and, well, it isn’t complete yet.”

“I see. Well, tell me what you have.”

“I’d rather not, until it’s finished. I just want to find out if there is any chance of it working before I present it to Lord Yaweh. And you, of course.”

“Of course,” echoed Lilith.

Lucifer said, “Can you give me some idea, though? If I answer your questions, it’ll take a lot of time. I’d rather not—”

“Of course, Lord Lucifer.” Abdiel swallowed, his mind racing furiously. “It involves . . . drawing on the illiaster of a large group of angels at once and uniting it in a particular way.”

“I see.
What
particular way?”

“To . . . ah . . . create something.”

“To create
what,
Abdiel?”

“Well, I want to see if tools, like Asmodai makes, can be made between waves. I have a few specific ideas, but I’d really rather not speak of them until I’ve done some experimenting.”

“I see.”

“Well, Lord Lucifer? Will you answer my questions?”

Lucifer cocked his head and studied Abdiel for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose. All right. Yes, it is possible to reach one’s il-liaster, even this far between Waves. It is difficult, especially for someone who is not of the Firstborn. For anyone of the Third Wave, it is very difficult, but not impossible. It is also, as we know, dangerous.

“The very least you can expect is some amount of fatigue, until the natural level of illiaster rebuilds itself. This takes from minutes to days, depending on what you have done. Those angels damaged by the Waves have had their natural level damaged, which is why their forms are either physically smaller, as Beelzebub or Ariel, or have some normal ability missing, such as Leviathan or Belial.

“Not only does this level differ depending on the Wave one is from, but it varies a great deal from angel to angel. Michael and Belial, for instance, have the highest levels of the Firstborn. Yaweh and I, while we have lower native levels, have more skill in using it.

“Also, many angels have particular, natural talents. Yaweh, for instance, is able to conjure images of what is taking place throughout Heaven. Raphael is able to repair damaged angels, and so on.

“As to how one uses it, go about it this way: Close your eyes. Now, try to imagine, in the middle of your belly, your free illiaster. Think of it as a ball of white fire. Get as clear an image of it as you can. . . .”

“Lucifer?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Did you get the feeling that Abdiel was making up that plan as he went along?”

“Huh. I’ll say. That’s why I kept asking him about it.”

“Well then, why did you answer his questions?”

“I couldn’t think of a good reason not to.”

“Why do you think he wanted to know all that?”

“I imagine that he wants to use his illiaster, for reasons of his own.”

“Aren’t you worried about that?”

“Not especially. What harm can he do? He’s a mischief-maker, but he would never do anything hurtful.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”

“And if we see signs of someone running around creating snowstorms, or giving us bad dreams, we’ll know where to look. He isn’t ever going to be able to stand up to one of the Firstborn.”

“That’s a relief, anyway.”

“Milord, word hath come to mine ears that doth cause me some measure of unease.”

“What have you heard, Beelzebub?”

“Rumors do fly about the land, milord. These have little truth in them. Whoso they light on taketh the worst o’ the lie and sends that forth; whoso that lights on them doth likewise. ’Tis a most potent distillation of falsehood; milord, it will fall like the dew and make every angel drunk unawares. Many hard words are spoken by those who fear to be sacrificed.”

“Sacrificed?”

“Verily, milord. And yet we dare not enlighten these ill-sayers, for our lips are sealed by Yaweh’s desires.”

“True. Hmmm. This is serious.”

“Aye, milord.”

“All right. We have to make sure Yaweh hears about this.”

“Aye, milord.”

Michael was not the most brilliant angel in Heaven. He was one of the biggest, one of the strongest, one of the most constant and dependable, but he was not one of the brightest.

He had thick, curly brown hair to his shoulders and a broad, clean-shaven face with a well-formed nose. His eyes were brown and

widely spaced. His shoulders were broad. He dressed in light grey, with brown boots, and on his shoulders was the gold cloak of the Firstborn.

The lights from the fires cast strange reflections on his face as he turned toward the doorway. Next to him, standing over the long, low table, Asmodai also looked up at the door.

“Enter,” he called.

The door opened outward, and two figures were silhouetted against the night. They squinted down as Michael and Asmodai squinted up.

A voice called out, “Asmodai?”

“Lucifer! Come on down!”

The two figures walked down to the room where the lights were from fires from the forge, and the heat was unpleasant to everyone except Asmodai, who had gotten used to it.

“Good evening, Lucifer,” said Michael as they approached.

“Michael! This is a surprise.” They embraced each other, Michael being careful not to hurt the other.

“Yes, it is,” he said, as they broke off, held each other at arms’ length and smiled. “A pleasant one.”

“Yes. You know Lilith, do you not?”

“Of course,” said Michael, and smiled broadly at her. “Good evening, Lilith.”

“Good evening, Lord Michael.”

Asmodai coughed. “Let’s go to the other room,” he suggested, “where you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Yes, let’s.”

Asmodai lived a little to the north of the center, in the foothills of the mountains where Belial made his home. He had only two rooms. One was his workshop, with five forges scattered throughout, and the other held a bed, a small kitchen, and a few chairs around a fireplace. It was lit with naked torches and colored dark brown.

The three visitors followed Asmodai into this second room and found seats.

“What brings you here this evening, Michael?” began Lucifer, before anyone else could ask questions.

Michael grunted. “Asmodai was showing me where the work would begin on the globe, and how it would expand, so I can arrange the defenses.”

“I see.”

“And you, Lucifer?”

The Regent of the East bit his lip. Apparently liking the flavor, he chewed it for a while.

“I spoke with Satan several days ago,” he said at last. “His talk disturbed me. I wanted your opinion of it.”

“What did he say?”

“He was worried about our need for the cooperation of the hosts, and if we had the ‘right’ to force them to help us.”

Asmodai shrugged. “Do we need to force them? And can we if we do? If we have the need, and the ability, then it seems that we have the right. I don’t see the question.”

“Odd,” said Michael.

“What?” asked Lucifer.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

Lucifer and Lilith exchanged glances that Asmodai found unreadable. He looked from one to the other.

“Yes?”

Lucifer was silent. “We thought as you do,” said Lilith. “But speaking with Satan—well—we aren’t as sure now.”

“I see. Well, maybe we’d better all hie off to see Lord Satan right now and find out about this.”

“Now?” asked Lilith.

“An excellent idea,” boomed Michael.

“And say what to him?” asked Lucifer. “The last time we spoke—”

“I wasn’t there,” said Asmodai. “True.”

“Well?”

“Let us wait a few days, anyway,” said Michael. “Now that I think of it, I must turn these plans over to Yaweh.”

“Very well,” said Asmodai. “Four days from now? In the evening? Meet here?”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Yaweh studied Michael for a moment before saying anything. Michael broke the silence himself: “Is something wrong, Yaweh? You look—I don’t know—unhappy. We did the best we could.”

“No, it isn’t that. Your plans are fine, Michael. It’s—this.” He drew from his robe a scrap of parchment and held it up. “This is a message from Satan. In it, he says that he’s noticed a growing worry among the hosts, and the spreading of rumors about the Plan—false rumors, he says. He recommends that we announce our whole Plan to the hosts at once. What do you think?”

Michael furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “Are the hosts unhappy because the rumors are false? I mean, would the truth make them happier, or less happy?”

“Who can say? I certainly can’t. What does Satan think, do you suppose?”

“Well, he must think that it would be best—”

“There is more.”

“Yes?”

Yaweh relayed Raphael’s mention of Satan’s attitude. Michael nodded. “This echoes my own thoughts,” he said.

“I know,” said Yaweh. “But I happened to overhear something as I was entering here. It was Abdiel’s voice, but I’m not sure to whom he was speaking. I heard him say, ‘Nonsense. These are mere rumors, and not fit to disturb Lord Yaweh. If the Lord Satan
were
to oppose the Plan, as you say, he would certainly speak of them to the Lord Yaweh directly.’ There, Michael—now do you see why this bothers me?”

Michael thought for another while. “No,” he said at last.

Yaweh looked hard at him. “But then, you agree with him, don’t you?”

“I’m not yet sure. We’ll be speaking to him soon, to try to find for good and all what his—”

“We, Michael? Who is this ‘we’?”

“Why, me, and Lucifer, and Lilith, and Asmodai—”

“What? You’re all going to speak to Satan about our Plan? Why is this the first I’ve heard of this?”

Michael furrowed his brow. “I don’t know, Yaweh. I guess it never occurred to anyone to mention it.”

“It never occurred. . . .”

“Would you want to be there? I’m certain you are welcome.”

Grief and anger seemed to compete in Yaweh’s voice, as he said, “I think that if the Lord Satan wanted me there, he would certainly have informed me of it.”

“Oh, but he doesn’t—”

“That will do, Michael. I don’t wish to hear more. Leave me, please, I have to think about this.”

“Of course, Yaweh. Excuse me.”

“The Lord Abdiel!”

“Very well. Send him in.”

Abdiel entered, looking full of doubt and worry. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Lord Yaweh, but—”

“What is it, Abdiel?”

“I have just spoken with Michael, and he related something of what had passed between you.” (This wasn’t far from the truth. Actually, Abdiel had hidden himself in a cloakroom, from where he had heard the conversation.)

“What of it, Abdiel?”