the Angelic Host when news of the arrests broke and spread. He had certainly seen that, only it had not been the reaction he had anticipated. He had expected rejoicing, a massive display of exultation that the threat to Yahweh had been eliminated. Instead he sensed only fear, the Host stepping into the light cautiously, peering around them, wondering who would be the next to see the League of Holy Court on their doorstep. Would they be the ones placed in golden shackles and led away for questioning? They were silent, not trusting their neighbors or their friends since any one of them could be the informer that would send them away to the detention centers.
For all that, Lemuel knew that the depression that filled him had little to do with the unexpected reaction to all the arrests. His home situation had continued to deteriorate and there was little there now to give him the peace and tranquility that he so badly needed. His mate, Onniel, refused to speak to him. She had not said a word to him for weeks now. She lived in silence, his attempts to address her ended by her walking away. His home was a cold and lonely place, unwelcoming and hostile. He had tried, he had tried hard. He had even stayed away from the Temple of Ceaseless Compliance for a few days in an effort to reconcile Onniel but the gesture had been ignored. The effort had actually made him ill and his return to the Temple had been the only thing that had calmed his spirit. Almost unconsciously, what had started as random wandering through the streets of the Eternal City was taking him there now.
“Your spirit is deeply troubled Brother?” Perpetiel-Lan-Paschar spoke with concern mixed with pride that he, a lowly Bene-Elohim, should be allowed to address such a distinguished Ophanim as ‘brother’. And the perception that the exalted Ophanim should have a troubled spirit was no surprise to him. A great deal of effort was being made to ensure than Lemuel’s spirit was as troubled as possible. Why, Perpetiel wasn’t quite sure, but there was no doubt that troubling Lemuel’s spirit was one of Michael-Lan’s higher priorities.
“It is, deeply so. The arrests today…. ” Lemuel broke off, his words failing him.
“Ah, yes. Indeed, it is a sad day for the Host. That so many should have turned their faces from the True Path and neglected their duty to The One Above Us All. Truly, the spirit of the Eternal Enemy must have possessed them.” Perpetiel looked as if he was about to weep at the very concept.
Now that was an interesting thought. Lemuel’s mind lifted clear of the clouds of depression that enveloped it. His troubles had started with the death of Satan at the hands of humans. Had his malignant spirit, freed from his body, become more powerful in death than it could ever have been in life? Was it possessing members of the Angelic Host and leading them to perdition?
“It is not the arrests themselves, brother, that trouble me so. Sometimes, even the best-willed are led astray.” Careful, don’t hint that you include the congregation of the Temple of Ceaseless Compliance in that category. “It is the reaction of the Angelic Host itself. I had expected rejoicing and exultation that the threat to Our Almighty Father had been removed. Instead, I see fear and suspicion.”
As they had been speaking, Lemuel and Perpetiel had drifted off the street into the Temple itself. Unnoticed by Lemuel, Perpetiel had glanced around to ensure that the opiate-loaded scent baskets were in place and already filling the air with their sublime odor. “Brother, does this surprise you? The Eternal Enemy always has been sly and devious in his ways. If he is indeed dead and never to return, does it not surprise you that his successor would be of equal qualities? So the Host fear that they too, have been swept up into the net and deceived unknowingly. When they realize how much work the League of Holy Court has placed into hunting down all those afflicted, they will realize they are safe and their joy will become manifest.”
Lemuel felt his heart lifting and tranquility beginning to suffuse his soul. That alone made him doubt his assessment of this place. If it was so misguided, how was it that every time he visited here, his spirit was uplifted and his doubts and depression removed? Could it be that this place was, in fact the true path? He prostrated himself on the floor and started his recitations of adoration for the Great Father Of All.
Behind him Perpetiel left the altar room of the temple with unseemly haste. He didn’t want to breath the atmosphere there any longer than he had to and he seriously wanted to get some clean air into his lungs. Although he didn’t know it, Lemuel was well and truly hooked now and Perpetiel didn’t want to follow his example. Anyway, he had some preparations to make for this was the night that Lemuel would be introduced to the Montmartre Club.
Secret Viewing Gallery, Interrogation Chambers, Headquarters, League of Holy Court.
Salaphael ‘s screams rang through the heavy rock of the chambers, shaking them and causing a steady trickle of dust to fall on those picked up in the great purge. It filled the air, causing the torches that lit the chambers to become misted, their light diffuse and dispersed. There was even a slight red tinge to it. To Michael-Lan and his companion watching the scene below, it was unpleasantly reminiscent of Hell.
Qaphsiel-Lan-Shekinah watched the sight with horror. Salaphael had been pinned down to a table, his feet raised over his head, a cloth over his face and buckets of water poured over him. That had just been the start of a long process, now the interrogators were moving to more destructive and agonizing methods. Ominously, a long metal rod had been placed in a brazier and was already beginning to glow red hot.
“We call this the Edward The Second treatment. A human king once upset his nobles so they killed him that way. We don’t think it will kill an Archangel but we’re not quite sure. Nobody has ever tried it up here – at least up there – before.”
Qaphiel realized what was intended and was suddenly, violently sick all over the stone floor. Michael-Lan rather envied him for that, he would like to do the same but would have to wait until later. Qaphiel wiped his mouth and stared at the mess disfiguring the flawless stone slabs.
“You’ll have to clean that up Qaphiel. One of the Ishim will get you a bucket of water and a mop.” Michael’s offhand comment underlined Qaphiel’s position more clearly than any threat could have done. Normally, such menial tasks would have been the lot of a human servant. Getting the job put Qaphiel on a lower level even than them. “By the way, has it occurred to you that, since this is the fate of a Chayot-ha-Kodesh who dared to be part of this conspiracy, how much worse that awaiting a Hashmallim must be?”
The comment produced another burst of vomiting, causing Michael to move his feet clear in case they got splashed. Qaphiel stared at Michael-Lan, his eyes filled with terror. “No, I beg you. I, we, were mislead.”
“You’ll be trying ‘we were only obeying orders next’. Didn’t work for them, won’t work for you.” Michael looked at Qaphiel and sighed. The allusion had been missed completely. Well, that was the problem that destroyed Hell he thought. They didn’t watch humans closely enough. Pay attention to humans, they really are worth the effort. And not doing so is lethally dangerous. “There is only one thing that can save you from this fate Qaphiel-Lan-Shekinah. You, your cell in this ridiculous insurgency and a few others have been spared from arrest – temporarily. I have tasks for you, tasks that fit in well with what Salaphael had planned. Tasks that only you can perform. Do them well, do exactly as I order you and the files that condemn you will be mislaid, never to be found again. Believe that and you’ll believe anything sucker.
Below them, Salaphael ‘s screams reached a wildly demented climax that cracked the stone slab floor in the viewing chamber. Damn, that will make cleaning this place up so much harder. Still that’s Qaphiel’s problem. Michael-Lan stole a quick glance at the Hashmallim standing beside him. Qaphiel caught the look and nodded urgently.
“I am your servant Michael-Lan. I will do as you command.”
Chapter Forty Six
Michael’s Lodge, Aukumea, Heaven
“Well, we managed the fire falling from the heavens bit. Without your assistance.” Michael-Lan kept his voice casual and friendly but the result stirred Belial into fury anyway.
“Then why do you keep me here? I have work to do and there is an eternity of suffering awaiting those who have betrayed me.” The voice rolled and thundered around the bronze-plated lodge.
“Well, I had thought of putting you on a treadmill in my palace. Generating electricity to run my human toys is quite a problem you know. I use humans down there at the moment but they tire so easily. You’d have been very useful down there. Of course, I’d have to get a bigger treadmill made.” Belial roared in anger at the concept. Michael-Lan ignored it and carried on in the same pseudo-friendly manner. “I’ve got a film you might like to see by the way.”
He produced a DVD player and set it up. The film was of some nuclear test shots that had taken place many
