Chapter 34
Baal said: “Michael will return for you. For all of us.”
At this, Satan laughed.
Finally, the devil had returned to Hell, and he sat on his throne, curved forward, as if tired, with the screeches of animal spirits and roars of flames in his ears — all from outside his shivering tower.
Like a starved stomach, Hell rattled and gurgled wetly, masses of flesh dripping down the walls and the ceilings that the Leviathan crept through.
And dozens of demons were gathered, peppered along the steps that led up to the devil’s chair, the few of the thousands that’d tried to rush in to see the rescued Satan.
Some of them were dukes, including Asmodeus, who’d finally gotten hold of his golden walking stick again.
He was out of the demons’ armor already, had left with his horse, whereas Rosier remained in the dark suit.
And all of them watched when Satan, dressed in sheer tunic, in jewels, in a four-horned crown, lifted his golden head, then finally replied, bitterly, “Is that any different than how it always is?” A chuckle trickled along some demons.
“He has hunted me, hunted all of you, since we escaped Heaven.”
The regent of Hell clenched his jaw, but a touch of fond amusement fell over his eyes.
“Don’t take it as surrender, then,” the devil said, “that we must leave this place. We marched from Heaven, and we marched from the Earth, and we’ll continue to march for our freedom from God.
” ‘From a wedding between Jerusalem and her Creator.’ “Do not despair. Remember this not as the day that we abandoned Hell but the day Michael was defeated and the city of angels was sieged.” He set his hands on the armrests, then pushed himself up to stand, all of the devils he’d reared staring up at him — all the devotion that had certainly waned in his absence growing alight again.
“Now, gather the belongings you cherish most and prepare to abandon Hell.” Elegantly dragging a hand through the air, Satan gestured at the trembling underworld around them.
“The fires may rage, but we’ve ruled them for centuries. Don’t be afraid — act.”
At the word, the demons made noises of affirmation, some asking Satan what had happened for him to be caught in Heaven, a few still wanting to know why he’d avoided Hell for so many years, but Baal shouted out, “Didn’t you all hear him?
All questions will be answered later. We need to leave this place.
Get to it! Hurry!” Other dukes soon followed suit, shoving some of the crowd back, toward the exit from the throne room.
Asmodeus sighed gently, gaze flickering to Rosier at the same time the fruit demon looked up at him — their mutual expressions anxious.
Without a second thought, then, the duke of lust took Rosier’s hand firmly, using the other to grip his walking stick and join the other infernal princes in demanding everyone ready for fleeing Hell without panic.
‘Unlike the last two times we had to migrate.’ He lowered his face, brought it to Rosier’s ear, and whispered, “He didn’t explain where we’re going once we leave Hell, did he? ”
Rosier shivered, then whispered back, “I don’t think that he knows.” He squeezed the duke’s talons, and the two joined the crowd hurrying out of the tower, flooding into the largest settlement of demons in the endless sprawl of Hell.
Meanwhile, Baal pushed and snapped at the demons at the end of the lines, trying to usher them all out of the throne room as fast as possible.
And once he’d managed, the regent took the enormous doors with both hands, grunted in exertion pushing them closed — the metallic hinges screamed — before an iron bolt fell into place.
The sounds echoed off the stone walls, filling the room with a reverberating boom that rang quieter and quieter until silence conquered.
Loud, insistent silence, hanging over Baal as he turned his head slowly to face Satan, who was lowering onto his seat again almost weakly.
He slumped, as he’d been earlier, and though Baal had to cross the room, right through the center of it, like a proud beggar approaching a king, he noted a pained twitch on Satan’s mouth and empty, wide eyes. Then, suddenly, an angry grimace.
“He wants to kill himself,” Satan snorted cruelly.
“He wants to kill me, then himself. He wants the Lord to remake Lucifer for the new Eden. Like a new Jerusalem to wed.” His voice took on a hiss, the walls of poise coming down in a way Baal hadn’t heard in centuries, since the days of emperors.
“I’ll kill him first. I’ll harness the fires of Hell to do it.
I’ll cook him and eat him. And I’ll spit him out like he’s shit in my mouth.
” He remembered the massacre at the casino.
He remembered singing for human masses. Sometimes Satan looked in mirrors and saw her.
Sometimes, he saw every harlot he’d been throughout history, every man, every woman.
Words in their voices were all rushing to him now — praises, teases, songs.
Baal quietly asked, “Is it over? Tell me the truth. Are we all going to burn in a lake of fire?”
Satan shut his eyes.
Outside the tower, chaos reigned. Demons scattered in every direction, some hauling dearest possessions and others running empty-handed, a few heading right for the stolen winged horses, a couple others fighting over them.
Asmodeus trekked along, grunting, his walking stick clicking against the stone, occasionally squelching when it landed over patches of Hell’s flowering flesh.
It was everywhere — handfuls of meat on walls, on the distant ceiling.
The pyramid of mangled bodies that Asmodeus had stood on as he met Dante had crept here, now hovering over the devil’s tower.
And the duke furrowed his brow as he said, “We should get home quickly — get what we can.” But whether they arrived promptly or whether they arrived at all depended on Hell’s body leading them there.
Rosier still held Asmodeus’ hand, and he shakily said, “The chest of rings is heavy.” All of their wedding bands that the younger demon had painstakingly maintained and polished, particularly fond of those that had a motif, however small, of fruits.
But wherever it was that they were going — could they carry the chest so far?
‘What we leave behind might be gone forever. Like the tiles of our kitchen in Heaven, like the mosaics of the bathhouses. Like the ceramic pots in our old house, Asmodeus. Our trees, our beds.’ As they hurried down the path, he briefly remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep with Asmodeus pressed to him, the first time they shared a bed.
‘I hoped we could have stayed like that forever. I hoped that we could be friends for the rest of eternity.’ But now that house was gone; they’d seen a stranger of a building in its place.
Over the grave of their love, the angels had made a temple for worship.
Abruptly, Asmodeus stopped, and Rosier stumbled but saw, up ahead, what’d made his husband freeze.
Moloch with a few others behind him, many of his followers, the demon Ara, and the Watcher Armoni, holding the chain leash of a winged horse.
“Asmodeus,” Moloch called, now in full armor, stepping up, closer to the duke with a charming smile.
“I’d be careful heading that way. There’s a lot of fire. ”
Asmodeus grunted. “What do you want now, Moloch? Satan is back, and he doesn’t care about your war for his hand.”
Moloch laughed simply and said, “Now, now, Asmodeus. Don’t be difficult.
I just wanted to ask again whose side you’re on.
Mine or Baal’s. After we leave this place, start anew in whatever new home we make for the demons — I’m going to approach the devil and offer to be his new regent.
I want your support when I do it.” When Asmodeus, again, glowered, Moloch’s expression began to darken.
“Baal hasn’t been your friend for a long time, has he?
Why do you hesitate to support me, then? ”
“Fuck the both of you,” Asmodeus snapped, twisting around, determined to see if Hell would bring him and Rosier home if they just went in any other direction, but when he turned, he saw Moloch there, and again, Ara, Armoni, others. ‘This is where you’re meant to be,’ Hell was saying. ‘Do not run.’
“What happened between the two of you?” Moloch asked, faux sympathetically.
Asmodeus thought the better question was, ‘What happened to Baal?’ In the past two or so thousand years. What had happened to the amusing, simple-minded demon who’d once hung on Asmodeus’ words? Who was this stranger?
In the tower, the regent in question had just kneeled before Satan, staring up at him with a set jaw as the devil said: “And what if this was goodbye, Baal? Goodbye to life as much as Hell.”
Baal took Satan’s hand, tenderly. “It had to end sometime. You always told me that. You told me that all the centuries of work would mean nothing one day, that God will be victorious, and that we will burn.” Satan scowled, deeply, like he’d been slashed.
“I suppose the apocalypse is here now, but I don’t believe it all meant nothing.
” The burly demon, tilted his head, then quietly added, “I wish I could make you believe that. But no, I know you’re too logical, too strategic.
A king can’t feel, you told me. He must not have mercy. He must scheme and assassinate.”