To Reign in Hell: A Novel (8 page)

“Fare quickly, Mephistopheles.”

Mephistopheles turned from the doorway of the Southern Hold, holding his smile with some difficulty.

“Where can he be going, or coming from?” asked Abdiel. Since he was alone, no one answered. He hunched behind the rocks as Mephistopheles passed within fifty feet of him.

“And smiling, too. What has he been up to?” Abdiel watched the retreating figure with some apprehension. He was in the secluded
area, and well-hidden, but he was close to the Southern Hold. It wouldn’t do to be seen at all, and it would be disastrous to be seen while he was about this business.

How long? He had nearly a day’s head start, but Gabriel moved quickly.

He bit his thumb and continued walking.

“Well, well, Gabriel! Good day to you.”

“Good day, Lord Mephistopheles.”

“You don’t need the ‘lord,’ Gabriel; my name is too long as it is.”

“Thank you, Mephistopheles.”

“What brings you out here, Gabriel?”

“An errand, Lo—Mephistopheles.”

“An errand? Out here? Nonsense! Admit it, Gabriel, you’re taking a vacation, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. Really!”

“It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Really, I’m on an errand.”

“Who is there to deliver a message to, out here?”

“Lord Satan. I’ve—oops.”

“What, you weren’t supposed to tell me that? Well, don’t worry. And I suppose you can’t tell what the message is, can you?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Well, that’s all right. I can guess it pretty well. All of this fuss about the Big Plan. But I suppose, even being right there, you aren’t told a lot about it.”

“Well, I’m not exactly
told.
. . .”

“It must be frustrating, after a while.”

“Frustrating?”

“Well, being that close to all of the planning and agitation, and not knowing what is really going on. For instance, I understand that the Lord Satan is angry with Yaweh over some little matter, but I imagine you’d know even less about that than I would.”

“I don’t think that is quite the case, actually.”

“Well, you probably haven’t heard of it.”

“Oh, no. You have it just backwards. I—uh, I shouldn’t say any more.”

“Of course. Well, will it be a while before I see you back at the Palace?”

“Oh, no. We should be returning right away.”

“We? The Lord Satan will accompany you?”

“Yes, he—uh, I must go now, Mephistopheles. My errand is urgent.”

“Certainly, Gabriel. A pleasant day to you.”

“And to you, Mephistopheles.”

Beelzebub padded into the large chamber. Wine and glasses were placed throughout. As he entered, he announced solemnly, “My Lord Lucifer of the Firstborn, Regent of the East. The Lady Lilith. The Lord Asmodai. The Lord Michael of the Firstborn.”

He stepped out of the way as they entered. Satan rose and greeted them, then motioned to the chairs.

This room was done in dark blues, but well lit, so it seemed bright. A painting of Lilith was against one wall. She smiled as she saw it, and exchanged glances with Satan that implied memories.

The other walls were bare, except for a cupboard against one. The total effect was spaciousness, but not enough to make one uncomfortable, and the chairs (soft and white) were close enough together to make conversation easy.

Beelzebub nudged the door closed with his nose, then leapt onto the couch next to Satan.

Satan poured wine and gestured to the others to do the same. Lilith and Asmodai did.

Lucifer said: “This is a continuation of our last discussion.”

“I see.”

Asmodai cleared his throat. “I wasn’t there. Could you fill me in?”

“We didn’t resolve anything,” said Satan. “My feeling was—is— that I’m not sure it’s right to force the hosts to risk themselves in this if they don’t want to.”

“You seem,” said Lilith, “more certain than you were.”

“Hmmmm. I don’t
feel
any more certain.”

“Why not?” shot Asmodai.

“Eh?”

“You have questions. Why, after all this time, haven’t you resolved them? What makes you—if I may—doubt your doubts?”

Satan nodded. “Good question. Why is it,” he asked suddenly, “that I feel as if I’m being judged?”

The others looked at each other. “I don’t know,” said Lilith at last.
“I’m
not judging you.”

Satan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. To answer your question, Asmodai, it’s just what Lucifer told me before: How can we sit here, knowing that we can save thousands or millions of lives, and not do anything about it?”

Michael stirred, then spoke for the first time. “I remember hearing about you during the Third Wave, friend Satan. You were holding things along your eastern border when there was a breakthrough far to the west.”

“I remember.”

“As the story goes, you decided, no matter how hard pressed you were, that the western area was in more peril because there were few defenders.”

“I remember.”

“It turned out you were right. Those you abandoned, survived. And you arrived at the western area in time to—”

“What is your point, Michael?”

“That there are times when you have to decide. You’ve shown that you can do so in battle, but—” He fanned the air, as if he could churn the right words from it.

“He is saying,” said Lucifer slowly, “that you must be able to make hard decisions even if there doesn’t seem to be any urgency. Sometimes there is an urgency that you can’t see.”

Satan looked away. “Acting on impulse is fine for some things,” he said. “But there are times. . . .”

Lilith bit her lip.

“Word of your doubt has spread,” said Asmodai. “There is growing
unease, Lord Satan. Yaweh is worried. The rest of us are worried. I—”

He stopped. Satan looked at him. “Yes?”

Asmodai sighed. “I’ve been wondering about these things myself.”

Satan chuckled wryly.

“It isn’t funny,” said Lucifer.

“No, it’s sad. So sad I have to laugh at it. Well, what do you want from me?”

“A decision,” said Lucifer.

Asmodai nodded. “Either put aside your doubts and do your task, or declare yourself opposed.”

Satan chewed his lower lip for a while. “It sounds so easy. But it isn’t that easy, it’s—” He stopped. The others remained silent. At last, Satan said, “I realize what you mean, Asmodai. Yesterday, Mephi-stopheles came by to worm some information from us, and in doing so he spoke of talk that we were plotting rebellion.”

Next to him, Beelzebub growled softly.

“There is no truth in it, but it is interesting that he chose that approach. Now, I’ve known him since long before the Third Wave—I know him as well as I know any angel in Heaven. I’m not worried about Mephistopheles, but I recognize that, though he made up that story, there are seeds there that I can’t ignore.”

Asmodai nodded. “That’s what I meant.”

“I know. But what you four are doing to me is what I’m afraid of doing to the hosts. Now that I see it, I like it even less than I did when I was just imagining it.”

Asmodai shrugged. “Is that your decision, then?”

“I’m not sure.”

Asmodai slammed his palm against the arm of the chair. Then he poured himself a glass full of wine and tossed it down.

“Lord Satan?” said Lilith.

“Yes.”

“It isn’t by our desires that we are doing this—forcing you to decide.”

“I know.”

“We are being forced as much as we are forcing you. By the Plan, yes—but more: by the flux itself.”

Satan turned to Beelzebub. “Sound familiar?” he asked wryly.

Beelzebub nodded without speaking,

“All of this is beside the point,” said Asmodai, his lips tight with anger. “You must decide
now.
You must—”

“Why all the heat, Asmodai?”

“Because—” he stopped, looked away, and shrugged.

“Methinks,” said Beelzebub, “that Asmodai doth fear his own doubts, and would have thee as target that he need not have himself.”

“I see,” said Satan.

“Whatever Asmodai’s reason,” said Michael, “he is right.”

Satan shrugged. “Telling me ‘decide’ doesn’t help me do it. Which way? Why? What are the effects? Can you answer these questions? Can you answer them for yourselves, if not for me?”

No one spoke.

“I thought not. Then here is my decision: I will leave tomorrow, and travel to the center, and speak with Yaweh. If he can’t give me the answers I want I’ll . . . do whatever I do. Does that satisfy you?”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. Lilith said, “Yes.” Lucifer nodded once, abruptly. Asmodai remained silent and unmoving.

“Perhaps,” Lucifer told Asmodai, “you should go along and get your answers at the same time.”

“No,” he said. “I’ll get my own answers, in my own way, or live without them.”

“An thou canst live without them, thou art better than I.”

“Good day to you, Kyriel.”

“And to you, Sith.”

“I’ve been hearing things.”

“It’s as I told you, isn’t it?”

“Worse, if anything. They don’t care about us, it seems. They need angels to work on the walls, and whatever happens to them doesn’t matter.”

“It isn’t the walls.”

“It isn’t?”

“What I’ve heard is that. . . .”

“Why did you shudder, Kyriel?”

“I’ve heard that . . . that we’re to go out there and—build something. I don’t know what.”

“Go out there?”

“You know,
outside,
“

“Oh.”

“Now
you’re
shuddering, Kyriel.”

“I know. It’s hard to believe. I’ve heard the stories.”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember your creation, Kyriel?”

“Somewhat.”

“I also, somewhat. Would you go back to that?”

“Not if I didn’t have to!”

“Is there nothing we can do, Kyriel?”

“Well, I suppose we could do nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well . . . look, Sith: We’re going to hear about this before it happens, aren’t we?”

“Well, yes. I suppose.”

“They have to gather us together, somehow or other, to go marching out into it.”

“Yes.”

“Well . . . what if we’re not there?”

“Huh? Where would we be?”

“Somewhere else.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hide! We go off somewhere—to the north maybe—”

“Where Belial is?”

“Not that far north. Just somewhere that we can hide.”

“Then what?”

“We wait until it’s over, then come back. They’ll never miss us, two out of the thousands.”

“Three.”

“Three?”

“Bath Kol.”

“Oh! So it’s true about—”

“Shut up, Kyriel.”

“Right. Three.”

Yaweh walked alone in the throne room. He walked around the perimeter, or back and forth across the middle. Sometimes he walked slowly, lost in reflection; other times he moved quickly, as if he actually had somewhere to go. He wondered whether Satan would return with the page. He thought so, but then he thought not.

Yaweh remembered the beginning—how the two of them had perceived each other, almost before each had perceived himself. During the first battle, they fought on and on, side by side, striving for their lives without understanding that that was what they were doing. Then suddenly discovering by accident that perhaps there could be more to existence than this struggle. He remembered how they had shared the joy when he who would later be called Michael was born of their battles with the flux, and then others.

He remembered the time, brief as it seemed now, after the First Wave, when they knew peace. He shook his head. Satan remembered these things too, didn’t he?

Yaweh walked about the large room. He wondered whether Satan would return with the page. He thought so, but then he thought not.

“ ’Twas painful, was it not, milord?”

“It was painful, Beelzebub. But they’re only doing what they think is right.”

“As art thou, milord.”

“I suppose. What about you?”

“Milord?”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

They stood at the door of the Southern Hold, watching the vanishing figures of their friends. Beelzebub was silent.

“Well?” inquired Satan after a suitable time had elapsed.

“Methinks to speak to Yaweh is good, milord. Yet methinks ’twill not solve what thou hopeth to solve. ’Tis thyself thou must answer to, and none can do it for thee.”

“I’m afraid you may be right.”

The four figures before them dwindled into nothingness.

It was just a few minutes after Michael, Lucifer, Lilith, and Asmodai had passed by where Abdiel hid that he saw a lone figure walking toward him. About the right size, from the right direction—yes.

He concentrated on feeling a ball of white fire in his stomach.

“Gabriel!”

“What—? Lord Abdiel!”

“Ah! You recognize me.”

“Of course, Lord Abdiel.”

“I am pleased, Gabriel. What brings you here?”

“An errand, Lord.”

“Yes, of course. To the Southern Hold, no doubt. But I meant, what errand?”

“I’m afraid I can’t speak of it, Lord.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, Lord.”

“That’s quite all right, Gabriel. I understand.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“And please call me Abdiel.”

“Why, thank you—Abdiel.”

“And, as to your message, you don’t have to tell me. I can guess it.”

“You can?”

“Certainly. You are going to summon the Lord Satan.”

“How did you know?”

“I guessed. But I can save you the rest of the trip.”

“Lo—Abdiel? You can?”

“Yes. By giving you the answer. The Lord Satan will not return with you.”

“How—?”

“He feels he cannot be bothered just now. Lord Yaweh will have
to wait. Perhaps in twenty or thirty days something could be arranged.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand, Gabriel? You spoke to the Lord Satan, and that was the answer he gave you. Should I repeat it?”

“No, but—”

“Then where’s the problem?”

“But I haven’t spoken to him, so how—”

“Gabriel.”