It’s done. It’s done. I can’t change it… There’s no way of going back and fixing it. For now at least, it’s over. I’m still here in Budapest, for I didn’t make my plane last night. I’m still here. And I, at least, am still alive. I know that my mind is still numb from what happened last night, but at least now I know what I have to do. I’m not mad any more. Madness would be far, far too easy.
I got home in the early hours of this morning and I’m now at this journal, even though my clothes and hands are stained once again with blood — angel, demon and human. One might think that, really, it should not be so very hard to go through life without getting blood on your hands again and again and again. Why don’t I seem to be able to avoid it?
After finishing the entry I made last night, I walked back into the bathroom looking for Michael in the mirror, but he wasn’t there — just my own reflection staring back at me. For some while I gazed into the mirror, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t insane. Eventually, I sighed and raised my hand to massage my temple… and then froze, for although my own hand was halfway to my head, my reflection hadn’t moved an inch. He was still standing there motionless, both arms hanging at his sides. With a growing sense of dread, I lifted my gaze to meet that of my reflection’s. As soon as our eyes met, a slow, nasty grin spread across my reflection’s face.. More of a leer than a grin, really. I screamed at him and he stared back with that horrible grin fixed on his face, mocking me, scorning me, despising me. I stumbled backwards out of the bathroom, tripping over myself in my haste to get out of the apartment.
It was the final straw. I ran out into the streets like a madman. Celebrations were taking place all over the city to welcome in the New Year. As I ran, I saw many people dressed up for the night, and there were good- natured exclamations of dismay when the rain began to fall and thunder was heard in the distance.
I wasn’t looking where I was going. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just had a vague idea of going to St Stephen’s Basilica to get my answers. To find out if God was there or not. But when I got to the edge of the square, I cannoned into someone also heading through the rain towards the cathedral. I staggered back and glanced up straight into the face of Mephistopheles.
‘Ah,’ I cried, grabbing the demon by the shoulder and raising my voice above the rain. ‘Tell me, Mephisto, my friend — are you real or am I dreaming you too?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mephistopheles replied irritably, shaking my hand off and glancing over at the rising towers of the floodlit Basilica.
‘I must know,’ I said, clutching at his coat as I rambled hysterically at him. ‘If any of this is real… if I am real, or if this is all something made up in my head or-’
I was not prepared for the punch in the face, and landed flat on my back on the wet pavement when he hit me.
‘Sorry, Gabriel,’ Mephisto said as he dragged me back up to my feet. ‘But we don’t have time for hysterics.’ He turned slightly and pointed at the Basilica. ‘You see the dome up there? That’s where Casey is at this moment. She was attacked by Lilith on her way to the hospital.’
‘ What? ’ I said, horrified, one hand still pressed to my aching jaw. ‘But you said demons and angels couldn’t intervene! You said that a human agent would be needed if-’
‘Lilith is different. She used to be human, remember? It’s easier for her to interfere in human affairs. Besides, Lucifer cares for her in a way. And her madness prevents her from fearing him as she should.’
‘What is she going to do?’
Mephisto raised an eyebrow. ‘She wants the child, of course. Are you going to help, or would you rather fling yourself from the tower to see if God catches you?’
And with that, Mephistopheles turned from me and ran through the rain across the square to the Basilica. Gilligan Connor retreated to the back of my mind and Gabriel Antaeus came back as I sprinted after Mephistopheles. The floodlit Basilica had been locked up for the night and was deserted. I got there in time to see Mephisto tear the huge wooden door from its hinges in a shower of splinters. It was strange to see Stephomi do that, when mere weeks ago I had thought I had the upper hand when he was pinned to the floor of my kitchen. I had never been in control, I realised. As a demon, his strength had always far outweighed my own.
The elevator was shut down at the top so there was no alternative but to take the hundreds of steps to the observation level. By the time we were halfway up, I knew I couldn’t go any further without my heart bursting from my body. But I kept running anyway, my lungs burning and head swimming, sure that I was going to throw up at any moment. I think I would have thrown up had it not been that, having spent most of the afternoon with my head down a toilet, there was simply nothing left inside my stomach. I tripped over several times, splinters from the wooden steps tearing at my hands, before scrambling to my feet in a desperate attempt to keep up with Mephistopheles.
At last we burst through the wooden doors out into the fresh air of the floodlit, snow covered observation dome. The loud rain had turned to hushed snow and was falling thickly, even as strange thunder rumbled in the distance. It was not far from midnight and celebratory fireworks banged and sparkled over the city below us. And there was Lilith, dressed in a velvet black ball gown, dancing dreamily on the low wall, just as beautiful and seductive as she had seemed in my dreams. Her long black hair was loose and blowing around about her as she danced, black silk scarves fluttering in her hands.
‘Lilith,’ Mephistopheles said quietly from the doorway.
He had spoken so softly that I didn’t think Lilith would have heard him, but she spun round at his voice, jumped off the wall and ran over to him, her hair and skirts flying out behind her. She threw her arms round the demon’s neck when she reached him, kissing him passionately, and I was unsettled to feel a stab of jealousy at the sight. There she was, the most stunning woman I’d ever seen… and she was kissing a devil as if he was the only lover she’d ever wanted, when she hadn’t so much as acknowledged my presence, and to my shame I couldn’t help but feel jilted.
‘I’m going to save them, Mephisto,’ Lilith said breathlessly, eyes shining with a kind of mad joy. ‘I won’t let the angels get them this time. Not this time. I’m going to love the children as if they were my own.’
‘Lilith,’ Mephistopheles said again, his voice soft with an uncharacteristic gentleness. ‘You must listen to me. Lucifer doesn’t want this. He’s angry with you already. The child could bring destruction on all of us.’
‘They want to kill them! I won’t let them! I won’t let them kill any more babies!’
As Mephistopheles took Lilith by the hand and continued in his attempts to reason with her, I kneeled down on the cold stone beside Casey. When she realised it was me, she gave a dry sob and clung to me as I put my arms around her, thanking me over and over again for not leaving her alone.
Mephistopheles tried to restrain Lilith; he tried to calm her, but she lashed out at him and soon the two demons were savagely fighting each other, and Lilith’s fine dress became dirtied and torn as she sought to escape Mephisto’s grip and reach us. They only stopped when Michael appeared on the tower in a blaze of white light that burned my eyes with its brightness. Mephisto placed himself protectively in front of Lilith, and the angel and the demon each stood motionless at the top of the tower, glaring at one another bitterly.
Michael looked much the same as when I’d previously seen him, but for one small difference — this time he had wings. And with that addition I could clearly see the angel instead of the fiery demon. The wings were folded behind his back with an air of barely restrained movement. Each feather was snow white, flawless, perfect, and I could tell just by looking that the huge wings were powerful. These were not the tiny, just-for-show wings you saw in paintings on the backs of cherubs. These were great, feathered, muscled things that were clearly more than strong enough to take Michael’s weight if he needed them to.
‘You always did have a flare for the melodramatic,’ Mephistopheles sneered, indicating the brightness of Michael’s light.
‘You are interfering in the forbidden!’ Michael replied angrily, radiating with righteous hate the way only an angel could.
‘Yes I know. It’s a bad habit of mine.’ Mephisto glanced over at me. ‘Gabriel, I think you know everyone here? I am the madman and these,’ he waved his arm to encompass everyone else, ‘are my fellow inmates in Bedlam.’
‘What is that foul whore doing here?’ Michael asked, pointing over Mephistopheles’ shoulder to Lilith.
Lilith didn’t seem to be offended by what Michael had said. In fact, she hardly seemed to have heard him. She was staring at Casey hungrily. Then her gaze lifted to mine, and I could have sworn she winked at me. But if Lilith didn’t care about the names Michael was calling her, Mephisto had more than enough anger for both of them. All traces of amusement had gone from his face, to be replaced with the most bitter loathing.
