‘“ The kingdom‚” ’ I wheezed, my lungs burning with the effort. ‘“ The power — ”’

‘No!’ Mephistopheles snapped coldly. ‘This is it, Gabriel. Time to go. Lucifer has sent for you.’

‘Take him out and burn him!’ the Judge was roaring.

No! I screamed at them in my mind. I can finish it! I could recite it perfectly if only Mephistopheles wasn’t strangling me! How can you not see him? It’s not the prayer that’s choking me to death, it’s the fucking demon!

I desperately tried to draw enough breath just to say the last few words, but I couldn’t get any air at all now. There were tears running down my face — from the extraordinary pain of being unable to breathe and the awful knowledge of how I was going to die. The demon would never let me finish the Lord’s Prayer. He wouldn’t let me prove my innocence to anyone. I couldn’t prevent my body from twitching, jerking horribly, desperate for oxygen I could not get. The agony of it was unbelievable. People were on their feet now, running towards me, roaring with glee and pious bloodlust.

My vision blurred alarmingly and my head went light, but no sooner had my knees hit the floor than I was being dragged up again by the mob and Mephistopheles’ grip was gone, the air rushing back into my starving lungs, burning like acid. ‘“ And the glory, ”’ I gasped at last, but it was far too late by then. They were going to tie me to a stake and burn me until there was nothing but dust and ash left. They dragged me out of the courthouse to the stake driven into the ground outside. It had been used before: the blackened body of a man was even now being taken down from it. And although most of his skin was gone so that I could clearly see the skull beneath the flaking flesh, it was quite clear to me that this burned out corpse had once been Zadkiel Stephomi.

‘ No! ’ I screamed, waking myself up at last. ‘ No, no, I can say it! “ Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by thy name…”’

I wasn’t a witch! I wasn’t a witch! I didn’t talk to demons! I could just see them, that was all. That was all! That didn’t make me something evil, did it? I pushed back the sheets, switched on the lamp and stood before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, still reciting the Lord’s Prayer. I recited it five hundred times, absolutely perfectly. I proved to myself I did not deserve to burn. It was only a nightmare. I could recite the prayer for ever and never make a mistake because I held God close to my heart and was loyal to Him. Indeed, it was only the sun coming up and shining through the windows that made me realise how long I had been standing there repeating the prayer, and then I broke out of the trance. I had already more than proved my point.

16th October

From the snatches of conversation I have had with Casey over the past week, I’ve learned that she moved to Hungary from America when she was twelve. She claims that she and her brother stayed behind when her parents moved back to America, but I’m not sure that I believe this. What parents would emigrate leaving their children behind? I suspect her parents disowned her when they found out she was pregnant, and perhaps she ran away, taking the brother with her. It’s clear that she dotes on him.

From what I’ve gathered, she has several different jobs, both at night and during the day. I said one day that if she ever needed something to tide her over she could come to me, but she didn’t look very happy so I quickly backed off. Did she think… did she actually think that I was suggesting something improper? I was only trying to be kind, but we have to be suspicious of kindness now, don’t we?

Sex complicates everything. I can’t help thinking that there must be an easier way for the human race to continue, generation by generation. Children can be friends with other children of the opposite gender without it mattering at all. Perhaps, to put Casey at ease, I should lie and tell her I’m a eunuch. But I don’t think that would be a very easy thing to slip into a casual conversation. It’s not the kind of thing that normal people just come out and say, is it? Oh, by the way, have I mentioned before that I’m a eunuch? Because I am, you know…

I’ve seen Stephomi a couple of times this week, but I didn’t enjoy meeting him as much as usual. It was my fault, for I persisted in asking him questions and didn’t much like the answers he gave. This battle… this War, or whatever it is, troubles me greatly; yet Stephomi seems to be almost indifferent to it. Another habit of his which upsets me is his tendency to refer to angels and demons alike as angels, maintaining that demons are simply fallen angels who have lost favour with God. But there should be rules, there should be boundaries. There should be distinct, separate groups. Otherwise the labels become meaningless… angel, demon, human… different words for the exact same thing…

‘I don’t know why you get so upset about it, Gabriel. Why does it matter if we’re all the same? What’s so awful about the idea that demons can sometimes do the right thing and angels can be narrow-minded selfish little shits?’

‘Shut up!’ I said sharply, unable to stop myself from flinching at his words. ‘For God’s sake, listen to yourself! Do you know what goes on in Hell? Do you know what the demons do to people down there?’

I decided it was my duty to enlighten him so I proceeded to explain the tortures of each Circle one by one; but when I got to the Seventh Circle and the centaurs that guarded the rim of the lake of hot blood, shooting any souls who attempted to rise, Stephomi appalled me by throwing back his head and laughing at what I’d said. Really laughing! I stared at him, speechless.

‘I’m sorry, Gabriel…’ he said, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. ‘It just sounds like such fun.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do you think the centaurs keep track of their scores? You know, like target practice. Perhaps on a really good day they even hold tournaments?’

I’d heard enough by this point so I threw up my hands and stood up, intending to leave. But Stephomi caught my arm as I walked by, and when I glared down at him, he was looking at me in an odd way, this strange smile twisting his lips. ‘Do you know what I think would do you good, Gabriel?’ he asked. ‘I think you should reacquaint yourself with Lilith’s story. Look me in the eye and tell me that angels are perfect beings and devils are nothing but monsters after that.’

‘Lilith?’ I repeated with a frown.

‘Adam’s first wife.’

‘There’s no truth to that legend,’ I said dismissively.

‘What makes you say so?’

‘There is no mention of her in Genesis.’

‘Ah. Perhaps, after all, there are some elements of our history that God would rather not have recorded?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I snapped.

Stephomi sighed as he released my arm. ‘Lately I seem to offend you whenever we see each other, Gabriel. I’m sorry about that. But take my word for it — Adam did have another wife before Eve. She does exist. And her name is Lilith.’

I felt a little guilty after that, for I realised I’d been blaming Stephomi for a situation that was not his doing. He’s just a messenger in all this… I have decided that Stephomi’s occasional outbursts — like this issue over the Seventh Circle — are nothing but a defence mechanism. He is scared too, but he does not wish to show his fear to me. So he covers it with highly inappropriate jokes. But I forgive him, for he cannot help it. I did some reading on the theories of Freud and Jung and I realise now that his behaviour is not his fault. He is a textbook example of a man who cannot cope with his fear; cannot meet it head on, as I can.

At Stephomi’s suggestion, I returned home and read of Lilith’s story. I think I might have been vaguely familiar with the myth before I lost my memory, but I’m sure that I didn’t know the story in detail. Maybe I never bothered to look into it in any great depth because the Bible certainly doesn’t acknowledge that Adam ever had a wife before Eve, and Genesis makes it quite clear that Adam and Eve were the first humans to be created.

Lilith’s story is a dark, twisted, vulgar tale. I find the whole thing most distasteful and don’t wish to believe in its authenticity. The Bible should be the last word on all such things. But Stephomi’s words have been ringing in my ears… She does exist. And her name is Lilith. And after all, he should know, shouldn’t he? He who openly admits to having assisted demons when they’ve asked him to. For the legend goes that Lilith became a demon after rejecting Adam and leaving the Garden of Eden — an idea that clearly parallels Lucifer’s rejection of God and flight from Heaven.

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