Qualia Page 22

  I felt a breeze wash past me.

  Melusine stepped around Farr and confronted Michael.

  ‘Don’t bother, lizard.’ The angel laughed as he landed. ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping under a rock, somewhere warm?’

  Melusine said nothing – she just drew a short sword and a wicked-looking knife, then faced him, expressionless.

  I could see the muscles jumping slightly in her throat as she tensed, ready to move.

  ‘Hang on to something.’ Belial warned sidling over to the wall.

  ‘I have no issues with the Fae so just get out of my way.’ Michael stepped lightly toward her, his sword held low and ready.

  Melusine spoke quietly. ‘But this Fae has issue with you,’ she said. Bringing up both weapons, she held the sword out in front of her, the knife above her head. Bending her knees slightly she stilled, waiting.

  Keril picked up the little girl and, holding her tight, hid behind a pillar of rock.

  Michael turned to the tall necromancer and laughed. ‘I remember you little sorcerer,’ he snarled. ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ He raised his sword slightly as he glanced warily at the dragon.

  The wind began to gust: dust and small pebbles lifted and bounced from the floor all rolling toward Farr as he focused on Michael.

  ‘We drowned the wrong sibling it seems.’ Michael laughed as he casually brushed away the dust and debris that was now whirling around the two of them.

  ‘Heads down!’ Belial barked.

  Without question we all obeyed – even Graham. The sound of rushing wind grew, then screamed past us like a panicked herd of cattle: uncaring, unheeding, just blindly intent on simple movement.

  The wind hit Michael like a sledgehammer and, with a look of surprise, he staggered backward.

  ‘Pathetic,’ he screamed into the maelstrom. ‘If that’s the best you can do …’ He frowned as he was, once more, pushed back, his feet slipping on the dust and shale of the tunnel floor.

  Farr took a deep breath. ‘That’s not even a tiny part of what I can do,’ he said quietly. Raising his arms above his head, he rolled his eyes back into his skull and began to chant. The wind dropped for a moment as though it were listening to the strangely hypnotic words.

  I watched the dust and grit swirl silently around Farr, creating set patterns which changed and shifted. As his chant strengthened the swirling dust became more agitated, rising and falling with the cadence of his voice.

  Michael pushed hard against the wind but it held him fast. With a grunt he shrugged and pulled his sword. Sending one carefully aimed ball of fire toward the howling necromancer he waited with a superior smile. His face fell as he watched a hand of dust reach out from the swirling mass; it casually smothered the fire and bore it down to earth. Alarmed now, Michael began to struggle in earnest, his face grim as he finally realised he was held fast.

  Melusine cracked a slight smile.

  Eventually Farr’s chant switched to overdrive. His voice became commanding and impassioned. The dust gathered in a huge ball that twisted and seethed between him and the struggling angel.

  With a sudden movement of his hands Farr sent the whole thing rolling toward Michael. More rushed past us, dragged up from the depths of the tunnels and the wind seemed to be rising from the floor.

  Michael drew his sword again and began slashing at the air around him. Finally the wind grew so strong that he could no longer stand against it. With a scream of rage that echoed around the walls, the archangel was steadily pushed back toward the gate.

  Watching through slit eyes I held on to my rock. I thought I could see hands and faces in the wind – ethereal bodies that wrapped themselves around the silently struggling angel. Gripping the walls, Michael’s face twisted with effort as his fingernails gouged rents in the stone.

  Melusine frowned, then, sheathing her weapons, she carefully removed the wooden spikes from her hair. Loose and uncontained it rose in a dark cloud around her face. She gripped both belled spikes in one hand then, as the wind dropped for a split second, she took aim and, with a deft flick of her wrist, flipped them toward the struggling angel.

  Both spikes entered Michael’s chest with a sound like wet washing falling from a height. He howled and stared down at the tiny bells that still hung from the ends of the wooden spikes; they tinkled as they rolled back and forth across the front of his tunic.

  As though crucified, Farr brought his hands out to his sides. He was now screaming his chant into the howling gale. With a swift, decisive movement he brought both hands together in a single clapping motion then, without pause, extended them toward Michael, palms flat. Around us the air became still and silent as everything – wind, rocks, sticks and dust – headed toward the gasping angel.

  Distorted faces stretched up to scream into Michael’s face, while hands clutched and grasped at every part of him. The wind twined around him, tying him up in a cocoon of movement and shadowy body parts. Without hesitation the whole entity fled toward the light, dragging Michael with it. His scream faded away and all became quiet. The cheerful tinkling of tiny silver bells was the last sound that echoed back down the corridor.

  It was that type of quiet that follows snow – a deep peace in which nobody dared move or even breathe. As Farr crumpled toward the ground we all jumped as Parity screamed his name, her voice breaking into our shocked immobility. She pushed past us, then scrabbled over the fallen rocks to reach her brother.

  ‘Farr!’ She gently lifted his head. ‘Farr, please wake up.’ She shook him slightly. ‘You have to wake up. I need you, I can’t exist without you.’

  Belial moved before the rest of us. But before he could reach them Farr lifted a hand and cuffed his sister gently round the head. ‘Stop screaming at me, Parity,’ he muttered. ‘Even if I’m not dead, I’ll be deaf.’ He coughed and sat up with a groan, his hair bedraggled and grey. Small spots of blood appeared, seeping through the dust that caked his face. Grit and small pebbles rolled from his jacket and coat as he moved.

  Parity sat back on her heels, her head in her hands. ‘Please don’t do that again.’ Her voice, muffled by her palms, sounded creaky and drawn.

  Farr took Belial’s proffered hand and clambered to his feet. After retrieving his glasses from the pocket of his duffle coat he dusted himself off a little then pulled his sister into a cuddle. ‘I’ll try not to.’ He winced. ‘I have got such a headache.’

  His last words sounded so pathetic after what we’d witnessed that I laughed. Melusine, who was standing behind me, hit me across the back of the head. ‘Don’t laugh, you,’ she said. ‘Wow! I thought I was past being impressed by anything these days.’

  I turned to her and rubbed my head; she’d hit me a lot harder than Carly always did. If these women didn’t stop smacking me, I was going to end up with permanent brain damage. ‘You’re impressed by wind,’ I leered at her. ‘Well, I can give you some of that.’

  ‘Don’t be gross.’ Melusine continued to study Farr and Parity. ‘That wasn’t wind, you idiot.’ She shook her head. ‘That was the dead.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The old dead.’ Melusine turned to look at me. ‘And I mean really old – thousands and thousands of years old.’ She was enjoying my obvious confusion. ‘After a time the dead don’t bother with a body, they just sort of exist as a thought or a memory – but they do still exist.’ She shook her head, obviously awed by what Farr had managed to do. ‘He gathered their memories together, made them remember their old forms and gave them a target. Then he dragged them out of their resting places and gave them the desire to head for the light. He told them that Michael was the only thing standing in their way …’ She gave a delighted laugh. ‘Belial always said that boy was a much more talented necromancer than everyone thought.’ She paused. ‘He’s been keeping his light under a bushel. I wonder what else he could do if he wasn’t using most of his power keeping Parity happy.’ She trailed off into thoughtful silence. I wasn’t sure I liked her smile.
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  Carly told me he was a necromancer. ‘Isn’t that someone who makes zombies?’

  Melusine frowned. ‘No, they usually just talk to the dead but they can reanimate, if they had to.’ She tailed off and looked speculatively over at the young man and his sister. ‘Although I can’t see why anyone would want to.’ Getting to her feet she slapped the dust from her trousers. ‘Can you imagine what life would be for all the living if the dead were just allowed to wander aimlessly?’ She took a long look up the passage. ‘We’d better get out of here before old feather fart brushes them off and comes back for us,’ she said. ‘They’ll only be able to hold him for so long.’

  The air still felt very passive as we walked down the tunnel. Graham seemed deep in thought, but I decided that if he had questions he’d ask them and left him alone.

  Eventually another set of gates blocked our path. These huge silver works of art stood floor to ceiling and seemed almost entirely out of place in their dusty cave-like surroundings. Animals, plants, humans and astral bodies climbed or hung from delicate silver chains. The whole thing was welded together to form a complex and chaotic scene. Above the gates, ornamental metal letters spelled out: Relinquite omnem spem, vos qui intratis.

  ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here,’ Carly translated. ‘Well, that’s what it means even if that isn’t entirely what it says.’

  ‘Oh that’s very bloody cheerful.’ Graham stared up at the gates.

  I watched him carefully. He wasn’t showing anywhere near the amount of hysteria I’d expect from someone who found themselves in such an odd situation. I’d had to start thinking of him as Graham again as he was so human, overweight and frightened that there was no way I could think of him as Lucifer.

  ‘I hate to upset your apple cart,’ Carly leant in and gave a loud stage whisper into Graham’s ear, ‘but you put it there.’

  ‘Did I?’ Graham frowned then put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. ‘Why do I remember these gates being created? I was forced to stand and watch. I was on the inside and the angels were out in the passage. They wove the gates from the silver chains that all the fallen had been forced to wear when they were escorted out of Heaven. They decorated them with the animals and other glorious works of God’s creation. Metatron said it was to remind me what I’d lost and what I’d forced so many of the Host to lose.’ He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. ‘I unravelled a swathe of flowers and birds to create those letters.’ He opened his eyes and stared at the gates. ‘I did it to piss Michael off but he just laughed and agreed.’

  ‘Well, some jokes fall on stony ground,’ I intoned. ‘Ow!’ Carly trod on my foot.

  Graham seemed to be able to access certain snippets of Lucifer’s memory and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I turned to say something helpful and supportive but stood with my mouth open. The message above the gates now read: Per libido dei.

  I struggled for a moment. ‘By God’s sex drive?’ My Latin was as rusty as an old can.

  The man beside me shook his head slowly. ‘It’s actually whim. By God’s whim.’ He stared at the gates. ‘Or caprice. It covers both really.’ I noticed that his eyes had become darker, his jaw a little more defined. When he quirked a lip, in what could have been a smile, he looked like a snake hiding in a sleeping bag. ‘Well, at the very least that really will piss Michael off.’ He held up a hand and the gate swung open at his touch. We all passed through in silence.

  Behind us the gates swung closed with a clang. There was a click, a whirr and a dull thud as various locks re-engaged. As silence fell, the man I had only recently stopped thinking of as Lucifer grinned at me. ‘This will piss him off even more,’ he said. He turned and stroked the gates, He had the manner of someone who has found a well-loved toy from childhood hidden in a box of grandma’s old cooking equipment. ‘Stand firm.’ He whispered to them. ‘Give me time. Hold them back for as long as you can.’

  I could have sworn the gates shuddered at his touch.

  I felt a tug on my jeans and, looking down, found our little party crasher staring up at me.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I knelt down on one knee to bring my face in line with hers.

  ‘Hungry.’ She smiled. All four of her top front teeth were missing and her tongue poked through the gap when she spoke, giving her a slight lisp.

  ‘Hmm, I don’t think that’s a suitable name but I might have a magic pocket with something interesting in it.’ I pretended to search through all my pockets.

  She giggled and looked hopeful.

  ‘Aha!’ I produced a chocolate bar from one pocket and an apple from another and held them both high above her head. She jumped toward them – a futile gesture. ‘Now then,’ I mused. ‘I have a chocolate bar to give to someone.’ I studied both apple and chocolate carefully. ‘They both look good.’ I gave her a sad shake of the head. ‘But I can’t give a gift to someone I don’t know – that would be rude.’ I scratched my head. ‘Now, if I just knew that person’s name then I’d know them well enough to call them back if I found anything else that was nice.’ I waved the food just above her head.

  The little girl stared at me for a moment, her lower lip caught between tiny white teeth. ‘Una,’ she said eventually.

  ‘That’s your name – Una?’

  She gave a short nod then reached again for the food.

  I offered her the chocolate and the apple. ‘Well, Una, because I know you now, you get the choice – which one would you like?’

  Grabbing the chocolate, she rushed off laughing. I looked at the slightly scrubby apple and sighed. I suppose it was too much to hope for that she’d take the healthy option. ‘Hello, lunch,’ I muttered at it.

  I was just about to take a bite when Carly appeared and, with one swift move, stole my apple and bit into it. ‘What’s going on with, Graham?’ She chewed thoughtfully as she stared at the man still admiring his gates.

  ‘Do you know, I’m not sure that is Graham any more’ I pinched the apple back and took a bite then shook my head as I watched the man trip over a rock and stagger into the wall. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t Graham – now it seems he’s back again.’

  ‘Oi!’ She’d stolen the apple from me again.

  ‘What do you mean it wasn’t Graham?’

  I couldn’t explain, but just for a moment, there at the gates, I was positive I was looking into the eyes of something far older, far deadlier than a middle-aged insurance salesman. I shrugged and made a swipe for the apple, laughing as she snatched it out of reach. ‘I don’t know.’ I patted my pockets hoping there was something else lurking in a corner. ‘Maybe I’m just starving and it’s beginning to unbalance me.’

  Graham wandered over to us with a cautious smile. Sitting down on a large rock he sighed. ‘I feel quite out of sorts,’ he said. He took his boots off and emptied out a small stream of stones and dust.

  I sat next to him. ‘Was it that thing with the gates and changing personalities?’ I asked. ‘I can see how that would freak you out a little.’

  Graham looked up at me and frowned. ‘What?’ He looked surprised. ‘No no, I’ve spent 20 years in a suit and now, well, this really isn’t me.’ He looked down at the black jeans and leather jacket that someone had donated. ‘I think this may be the first time I’ve ever worn jeans.’ He shuffled around on the rock. ‘Why are they so popular? They’re really not that comfortable.’ He frowned and hesitated. ‘What thing with the gates and the personality?’ He had a completely blank look on his podgy pale face; his watery blue eyes just looked puzzled.

  ‘Never mind.’ I stood up. ‘We’d better get moving.’ I watched as he shrugged and wandered away. He seemed completely and genuinely oblivious. I found it impossible to believe that he had no idea of the changes he’d just experienced. ‘Hey,’ I put a hand on his shoulder and looked carefully into his face. ‘Are you OK now?’

  Graham blinked and then shrugged. ‘I should be screaming and running and terrified.’ He frowned, his express
ion blanking slightly as he obviously explored his emotions. ‘But I’m not.’ He brushed dust from his knees in a slow, careful motion. ‘All the panic is still there if I go looking for it hard enough.’ He looked up at me with a smile ‘But if I don’t look very hard it just sort of evaporates.’

  Well, that didn’t sound good. I watched his face for some hint of a lie or deeply controlled panic but there really was nothing there.

  ‘Maybe I’m going mad.’ He brushed the dirt from his hands. ‘Nobody’s happier than he that fools himself, eh?’

  I nodded and resolved to keep a much closer eye on him.

  Belial stepped elegantly up onto a rock and gave a shrill whistle. As we fell silent he coughed his throat clear. ‘When we closed these levels nearly 2,000 years ago, we only left those that either refused to move, believing themselves deserving of the suffering they were dealt, or those whose crimes and attitudes were so terrible that we just couldn’t let them out.’ He looked around, making sure he had our full attention. ‘I honestly don’t know what’s here now, so when we go through those doors, I’m as clueless as you.

  ‘Hopefully,’ he looked meaningfully at Parity, ‘we’ll get some forewarning before something happens.’ He paused again. ‘Of course it could be completely deserted and all of the occupants have decided to just let go.’ He turned and stared at the double wooden doors that barred our way. ‘I, however, find that extremely unlikely so let’s be careful. Even here life is worth hanging on to.’ He paused again to let all that sink in. ‘We’re going to have Michael and company chasing us. They will do whatever they can to stop us before we get to the river because they can’t cross it. Whatever happens we have to get there before them.

  ‘Don’t leave the path, don’t fall behind and don’t get caught on your own. All the old myths are true here. With the gates charged to keep out all comers we should be OK until we cross the river, but that is really just a hopeful guess.’ Turning away from the silver gates he took a deep breath and stared down a small incline toward another door set within huge stone pillars that supported what looked like the main wall of a church. ‘I haven’t been here for a very long time,’ he muttered to Melusine who nodded and rolled her shoulders, her face set.