To Reign in Hell: A Novel Read online

  “Did you hear what he was yelling?”

  Abdiel shook his head. “Not clearly. I think it was something about finding me, but I’m not sure.”

  “He said he’d find you?”

  “I think so. That’s why I came to you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I think, Abdiel, that you ought to go to the Lord Yaweh and tell him what you’ve told me.”

  “Do you . . . do you think so, Lord Michael?”

  “Why not? Shouldn’t he know?”

  “I’m afraid Lord Yaweh will take it hard.”

  “That may be true, Abdiel, but he should hear of it.”

  Abdiel sighed. “All right. I’ll go to him now.”

  “The morning will do. You should rest first.”

  “No,” said Abdiel, shaking his head. “By morning I’ll have lost my courage.”

  “Lilith, my love?”

  “Mmmmm.”

  “What did you think of the trip?”

  She pulled her head up from the crook of his arm, turned over, and pulled his cloak up around them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know. Never mind.”

  “If you want me to say that Satan has me half convinced, I won’t.”

  “No, I—”

  “Not until you do.”

  Lucifer lifted his head up to look at her. Then he smiled and dropped it again.

  “All right,” he said to the sky above them, “he has me half convinced.”

  “Me, too.”

  He sighed. “So what do we do?”

  “We go see Yaweh.”

  He raised his head again. “You sound pretty certain of that.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I heard you whispering to Asmodai to set up an appointment with him.”

  He dropped his head back and laughed quietly. Then there was stillness in the glade.

  They covered the leagues without effort. They didn’t stay quite on the path, but always varied their journey just a bit, to admire a meadow they hadn’t noticed before, or a brook that had carved a new trail.

  The path had long ago petered out, and, after several days, they had found the one going toward the center. They stayed close to it as it grew into a stronger path that would soon become a trail.

  “It’s been a while since we’ve been here, Beelzebub.”

  “Verily. ’Tis much changed.”

  “I wonder if Yaweh will have changed.”

  “Milord? In a hundred days?”

  “Well, I’ve changed, haven’t I?”

  “Thy meaning escapeth me, milord.”

  “I was thinking of what Michael said, about the Third Wave. It seems as if I can’t make that kind of quick decision any more. Everything seems—I don’t know—more important, or something. It’s as if I have to watch every step, or I’ll hurt someone. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I . . . perchance ’tis true, milord. This conversation likes me not.”

  “Never mind, then.”

  They walked another league or three. Beelzebub said, “An the Lord Yaweh be changed, what then?”

  “Then, maybe, I won’t be able to convince him, or he won’t be able to convince me.”

  The path did, indeed, turn into a trail. They found themselves on it again and continued, looking for a place to spend the night.

  “Tomorrow, methinks, or the next day should see us to the Palace.”

  “The next day, more likely.”

  “Thou wilt speak unto Yaweh, then wilt thy questions have answers.”

  “In other words, I worry too much, right?”

  Beelzebub chuckled. “ ’Twas not my meaning, milord, but ’tis true nevertheless.”

  Satan shrugged. “I hope you’re right. About my questions being answered, I mean. You know, don’t you, that at first it was only the two of us?”

  “Milord?”

  “Yaweh and I, I mean. At the beginning.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “It was our battle that created the other Firstborn, or so Lucifer tells me.”

  “Aye.”

  “And the rest of the Firstborn, in the Second Wave, created you and the other archangels.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “And so on in the Third Wave. So, one could say, all of Heaven is the product of Yaweh and me.”

  “By the selfsame logic, milord, art thou the product of Yaweh.”

  Satan stopped in the middle of the trail and looked down at his friend. “You know, I never thought of that.”

  “Methinks, milord, that yon clearing will do well for us this night.”

  “I never thought of it that way at all.”

  “Shall we stop, then, and rest?”

  “It never crossed—what? Oh, this’ll do fine, I think.”

  “Then let us rest, milord, an it please thee.”

  “All right.”

  They moved off to the side. “Will he listen to me, do you think?”

  “Aye, milord. Yaweh hath no small measure of love for thee.”

  “I hope so. Rest well.”

  “And thou, milord.”

  Abdiel found a door at the rear of Yaweh’s Palace and made his way inside as quietly as he could. He removed his sandals and crept down the narrow hall.

  He came at last to an arched doorway with a plain brown curtain across it. He moved the curtain and slipped inside.

  The only sound was even breathing from the bed as he set his sandals down. He moved to the head of the bed and tapped the form sharply on the shoulder.

  “Who’s th—”

  “Shhhh!”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Abdiel.”

  “What is it, Lord? Why are we whispering?”

  “It’s the right time and place, Gabriel.”

  “For what . . . oh. . . .”

  “Report.”

  In a steady, whispering voice, Gabriel told how Yaweh had taken his news.

  “What will happen tomorrow? Limit your speech to things concerning the Plan.”

  Abdiel endured a seemingly endless stream of small doings, until—

  “Wait! Repeat that last!”

  “The Lord Lucifer has asked for an audience with the Lord Yaweh, to be held early in the morning.”

  “I see. Bide a moment.”

  Abdiel made a quick decision.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Yes, Abdiel.”

  “The meeting is canceled.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Lord Yaweh will notify him when he has time to speak to him.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Lord Yaweh understands how urgent it is, but has no time just now.”

  “Yes.”

  “When the Lord Lucifer leaves, you will tell the Lord Yaweh that the Lord Lucifer has changed his mind, and no longer has any need to see him. The Lord Lucifer was no more specific than that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Continue your report.”

  Gabriel did so for another few minutes, but Abdiel found nothing else of interest. When the page finished at last, Abdiel said: “I wasn’t here tonight. You didn’t see or speak with me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  Abdiel took his sandals, slipped out of Gabriel’s room, and made his way out of the palace. He went to the top of the hill and into a small wooded area. There he put his sandals on and headed back toward the Palace, this time circling around to come in the front way.

  Satan stretched hello to the morning, relieved himself off from the clearing a ways, and nudged Beelzebub.

  “Time to set off,” he said.

  Beelzebub rose. “Ready, milord.”

  As they walked, Satan remarked, “Another day until we get there, I think.”

  “Aye.”

  “Not more. We’ll be on the road in another hour.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “I’m beginning to despise traveling.”
r />   “Aye.”

  “And there’s still the trip back.”

  “ ’Twill seem shorter, milord.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Art thou better . . . content today, milord?”

  Satan chuckled. “Yes and no. I’m still worried about how Yaweh will react to me. We only spoke about the Plan once, you know, and before that I hadn’t seen him for a long time.”

  “All will be well, milord.”

  “I hope so. By the flux! Sleeping on the ground makes one stiff!”

  “Forsooth? To me, it seemeth not so.”

  “Thou dog, Beelzebub.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  Yaweh came down the wide sweeping stairs at almost the same moment that Gabriel appeared from the back of the hall, having emerged from the small doorway that connected to his chamber.

  They saw Abdiel at the same instant. Abdiel ignored Yaweh and spoke to Gabriel. “Please tell the Lord Yaweh that I wish to speak with him, if it is convenient.”

  Yaweh smiled, nodded at Gabriel, and entered his throne room. Gabriel motioned Abdiel in, then returned to his post outside the door.

  Presently, Lucifer arrived, and Gabriel was forced to turn him away, regretfully. It was then that Yaweh’s voice came from the other side of the door.

  Gabriel rushed to open it, and Yaweh said, “Ask Michael to come and see me at once. And send in Lucifer as soon as he gets here.”

  “Lord Yaweh, the Lord Lucifer has been here.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Lord, he said that he changed his mind, and no longer needed to speak with you.”

  “I see,” said Yaweh. “Well, bring Michael. Hurry.”

  “Yes, Lord,” said Gabriel, and he rushed off to do so.

  “What is it, Yaweh? Is it about Abdiel’s story?”

  Yaweh nodded. “He said you sent him to me, is that right?” Michael nodded.

  “I’m glad you did. He waited all night in my hall, rather than waking me up with bad news.” Yaweh smiled at Abdiel as he said this. Abdiel blushed and lowered his eyes.

  “But it is bad news, Michael,” Yaweh continued.

  “I know, Yaweh. I don’t know what to think.”

  “It’s worse than you suppose,” said Yaweh. “I have some indications that Lucifer has turned against me as well.”

  “Lucifer?”

  “It seems that way. I’m not certain yet.”

  “It’s hard to believe.”

  “I know,” said Yaweh. “What should we do?”

  Yaweh, who had been standing next to the throne, sat down on one of the chairs before it. Michael took another one and, after some urging, so did Abdiel.

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t know what to do, Yaweh.”

  “Have you turned against me also?”

  Michael’s nostrils flared, then his brows furrowed and he seemed more doubtful than angry.

  “I—don’t think so,” he said.

  “Good. I’m running out of angels I can trust.”

  “I understand,” said Michael. “When Satan gets here, if you’ll speak to him—”

  “Gets here!” cried Yaweh. “Where?”

  “Here. To the Palace. To see you. If you speak to him about—”

  “What makes you think he’s coming here? He told me he wasn’t.”

  “He told you? But he told us—”

  “When?”

  “When we saw him, twenty-some days ago.”

  “My page was there, to ask him to see me.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “That’s right.”

  “We saw him on the way back, just after we left. But why would Satan have lied to us when he knows we’d find out in just a few days, when he failed to arrive?”

  “To gain time, perhaps,” suggested Abdiel.

  Michael nodded. “Then he did fool us.”

  “It seems he did,” said Yaweh. “What can we do?”

  “I don’t know. Leave me for a while. I want to think about this. But please, stay around the Palace—both of you.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “All right.”

  “That’s the story, Raphael.

  “It’s hard to believe.”

  “So everyone has told me.”

  Yaweh was still in the small chair next to the throne. Raphael was seated beside him, her arms folded. She was frowning.

  “I’d like to speak with Satan myself,” she said.

  “So would I. So would Michael.”

  “But perhaps he’ll listen to me. We always got along well.”

  “So did we.” Yaweh sighed and shook his head.

  “Yes,” she said softly, looking at him sympathetically, “you did.”

  Yaweh shook the mood off, forcing himself to think clearly. “But you think it will do some good for you to speak with him?”

  “It might.”

  “Lucifer went with the same idea, and now it seems that he’s been ‘converted’ also. And without the decency to let me know about it. That’s what hurts, Raphael. None of them seems willing to tell me what he doesn’t like.”

  “I know.”

  “Well?”

  She shook her head. “I heal during the Waves. I see those who can only barely be saved, like Ariel, and those who can’t be saved, like Seraphiel. Whenever an angel dies, part of me dies with him. This is our chance to stop that.”

  Yaweh nodded and placed his hand on her shoulder. She leaned a cheek against it.

  Then, abruptly, he sat back, shaking his head. “But is there a plan left?” he asked. “Without Satan, without Lucifer—”

  “So what? Lucifer has done his part, has he not?”

  “Well, yes. . . .”

  “And, as for Satan, it would be good to have him, but he can be replaced. Abdiel could do his job, could he not?”

  “Yes, I suppose he could.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then she spoke softly, almost in a monotone. “Yaweh, do you remember the day you gathered us together, Satan, Abdiel, Michael, and me, and told us of this?”

  “I remember.”

  “Do you know what I did after I left?”

  “What did you do, Raphael?”

  “I returned to my home, Yaweh, and I cried.” As she said it, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, as if the memory were the event. “I remembered how grateful poor Harut—do you remember Harut?”

  “The musician? Somewhat.”

  “I remembered his face when we restored his hearing. And Leviathan. I’m told that she’s as happy as she can be, under the circumstances, but do you remember how beautiful she was, before we even knew what beauty was?”

  “Of course.”

  “I remembered that night, and I cried, because I thought that maybe we had the chance to end that. If you take that hope away from me now, Yaweh, now when we’re almost ready to do it, well—who will heal me?”

  Yaweh bowed his head

  Michael walked up to Raphael. She stood, and they held each other for a moment. Then he turned to Yaweh. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes. Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome, Yaweh.”

  “I’d like you to do something for me, if you would.”

  Michael nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  “Find our friend, Satan. Bring him here if you can; speak to him for me, if you can’t.”

  “Happily!” said Michael. “I’ll find him!”

  “Thank you. If he won’t return with you, tell him—tell him I love him.”

  Michael bowed his head.

  “Raphael, accompany him, if you would. You speak to him, too. Tell him what you told me.”

  “All right.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “There is one thing,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Abdiel. He fears Satan.”

  “I know.”

  “May he stay here? I’d feel better.”

  “Of course.”

&n
bsp; “Then I’m ready to leave at once,” said Michael.

  “And I,” said Raphael.

  “Good luck to you both.”

  When they left, Yaweh sent the page to bring Abdiel.

  He came and bowed low. “You wished to see me, Lord Yaweh?”

  “Yes, Abdiel. You fear Satan, don’t you?”

  Abdiel suddenly turned pale and could only manage a nod.

  “Well, you may stay here until this matter is settled.”

  Abdiel swallowed. “Th-thank you, Lord. But—forgive me, it isn’t safe here.”

  Yaweh furrowed his brow.

  “What?”

  “I fear for you, Lord, as well as myself. There are none to protect you here, and Satan—he will try to harm you.”

  “What, Abdiel? Harm? Me? Nonsense!”

  Abdiel shook his head, but speech seemed beyond him.

  “Why do you say that?” Yaweh asked.

  “I feel it, Lord. And from the way he spoke. He hates you, Lord.”

  Yaweh bowed his head. He had never understood hate, or even dislike. The idea of it was unthinkable, so having it directed at him from one he loved as much as he loved Satan was no more unthinkable.

  A deep anguish filled his heart, and he suddenly wished there were someone who could tell him what to do. He looked up after a moment, and Abdiel was still there, on his knees now, his eyes pleading.

  Yaweh spoke in a whisper. “What do you wish me to do?”

  “Bring in angels, Lord, and have someone make weapons for them, weapons that will make Satan fear them. Station them around you, and in the halls, and outside your palace, so none may get past who you do not know you can trust. Then I’ll be free of fear for you, Lord.”

  Yaweh buried his face in his hands. “Has it come to that?” he asked.

  Abdiel didn’t answer.

  “I’ll think about it,” said Yaweh at last.

  Abdiel nodded, bowed low, and left the room. When he was out, he left the Palace, running as fast he could toward the south.

  So far, everything was working as planned.

  FIVE

  Then Satan first knew pain,

  And writhed him to and fro convolved.

  —Milton, Paradise Lost, vi:327-328

  The owl circled the clearing a few times, looking down. It made wider and wider sweeps and angled out over the sea. Soon a monstrous head broke the water. Spotting it, and seeing himself spotted, the owl returned to the cleft and landed there.