Angel's Demon

9. The Gift

9. The Gift

Matthias was a gift. Perhaps if the impetus for his change had taken place topside, he would be free of Satan’s hold on him. Yes, he was a gift indeed, and just as one did not send an artisan to do the work of a house painter, Satan could not send Matthias to do the work he had previously planned for him. His old life was gone forever. Better that those whom he had known think that he had died in the plane crash.

Satan held open his arms and beckoned Matthias to step into his embrace. “Come to me, my son.”

Matthias smiled at Satan, and like a child seeking approval from a parent, willingly did as he was told. Satan closed his arms around Matthias, enjoying the coolness of flesh that was not from his realm. Would all earth-bound angels be immune to my touch? he thought to himself. It was an interesting question, though answering it would be a challenge. Unless some catalyst to cause the change occurred, it was impossible to determine if a mortal was part of that thing’s veiled army. How many were out there? Could they be a real threat in the final battle?

Satan kissed Matthias’s forehead, then whispered in his ear, “You need a new name.” He thought for a moment on what name might be suitable. He settled on a name that, when pronounced correctly was exactly what had happened to his old life. “From now on you shall be known as Gahan.”

Tears of joy fell from Gahan’s eyes, only to land on Satan’s chest. Satan shivered. The icy coldness of the salty water mortals found warm was delightful. A rare treat in a sweltering world.

Satan gently pushed Gahan away from him, turning him to face the audience as he did so.

“Can anyone here tell me what this man is?” Satan asked the crowd.

There was murmuring, though no one spoke up. A wrong guess could provoke Satan’s ire, and sour the moment.

“An earth-bound angel,” Asmodeus offered. He walked to where his lord was standing with the new acquisition, sight restored. Inside he was seething. His months of effort had paid off, yet everyone knew what Gahan was.

Those who had gathered fell silent. All knew what one of these creatures was. If this one had the same abilities as Helena, and could be controlled by Satan … was the final journey that would lead them to the appropriation of all that should rightfully be theirs at hand?

Satan turned to look at Asmodeus. “This is what you have been looking for. Why?”

Asmodeus shrugged his shoulders, trying to hide his frustration at the turn of events. “We know they exist. We needed to find out if there was a way to bend them to our will. I got lucky.”

“Your luck, my friend, is our fortune,” Satan replied.

Asmodeus nodded in acknowledgement, before speaking up for what may be the final time, about this man, this gift. “He is soft, and will need to be trained. We already know that your touch no longer burns him. If he can come and go as …” Asmodeus paused. He needed to say her name without any animosity, “… as Helena did, we will need to reinforce his loyalty to you. We need to ascertain what Gahan is capable of … where his talents lie, to hone them, and use them to our advantage.”

The underlying message in what Asmodeus said was, Give him to me Satan, that I might shape a double-edged weapon.

A sly smile spread across Satan’s face. He knew that Asmodeus was up to something. He always knew. Asmodeus’s passion was held in check. Satan was glad that he’d never told Asmodeus how easy he was to read. Let him think that Satan was unaware that he had an ulterior motive.

“Father,” Gahan said, in a voice that suggested a strength and resilience his fleshy body did not possess. His face had fully healed during the final transformation. “Asmodeus is correct that my flesh is weak. If I am to be of service to you, I will need … training. That he questions my loyalty is a great injustice. I will die for you here and now if you should command it.”

“Shall we test your loyalty, Gahan?” Satan asked.

“Father, if I need to prove my loyalty to those in this room, I shall.”

“So be it,” Satan replied. He clicked his fingers and the blade he had used to s***h Asmodeus’s wrist appeared in his right hand. He offered the knife to Gahan, who took it. “Cut off your left hand.”

Even though the blade was sharp, it took Gahan two attempts to completely sever his hand. It landed on the dais with a thud, and the fingers twitched momentarily as if trying to reconcile what had happened.

Gahan fell to his knees, the bloody blade still clutched tightly in his right hand. Though he had complied with Satan’s wishes, the pain was almost unbearable. He had not experienced such a thing before.

“Pick it up,” Satan told him.

The knife slid from his hand to the floor, which was now slick with blood. Gahan reached out to touch his now still hand. It was a surreal experience to touch a part of his body and not have that touch register in his brain. He had felt the same disconnection when dealing with corpses. Gahan wrapped his fingers around the thumb and lifted the lump of flesh from the floor. A trickle of blood dripped to the floor, causing tiny ripples in a larger pool of dark red liquid.

“Stick it back on your arm, before the ends seal,” Satan told him.

Gahan was confused. He was a man, not a gecko. It couldn’t be reattached or grow back, yet he did as Satan bid him to do, and pressed the edge of his severed hand against the stump. His whole arm tingled. A burning pain, as if someone were pulling the raw nerves tightly together, willing them to reconnect, radiated from his wrist.

Satan ran his fingers through Gahan’s hair. A soothing gesture reserved for those who had pleased him. Gahan managed to smile, despite the pain.

The corners of Asmodeus’s mouth curled into the slightest of frowns. He had handed Satan another Helena … what if Satan became as infatuated with Gahan as he was with the w***e? What had he done to deserve this? He was free of pure thoughts and good deeds. Sometimes life simply spat in your face, and since Helena had first appeared he was covered in spittle.

“Asmodeus,” Satan said. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, my lord.” Asmodeus quickly reviewed the conversation that had taken place whilst he’d been inside his own head, bemoaning what had happened. He bowed slightly to Satan, before continuing. “I am humbled by your request.”

“And what exactly is it that you will do?” Satan asked, not convinced that Asmodeus had been paying attention.

“I am to instruct Gahan in all that is unholy, to train his flesh as well as his mind, and to turn him into a raging tempest that will wreak havoc on everything that …” Asmodeus thought carefully about what he should say next. He could not say our father or God. Instead he chose something more generic. “… is love.”

While Asmodeus was blubbering about what he was going to do, a miracle took place. Gahan wiggled the fingers on both his hands, then rotated his hands at the wrists, first in one direction, then the other. Gahan firmly believed it was a miracle, one that Satan has performed. The soft caress of Satan’s hand through his hair. If Jesus could heal, why not Satan?

“Father, you have restored me,” Gahan said in wonder. He looked up at Satan, who smiled at him in return.

“You will be able to heal yourself from now on,” Satan told him. Why disappoint Gahan by telling him the truth. After all, Satan was the father of lies. Let him believe that Satan had gifted him with the ability to repair his body.

Gahan made a fist with his left hand and looked at the whiteness of the knuckles. He could feel the blood coursing through the veins, the pulse of the radial artery. Gahan opened his fist and flexed his fingers. It was a miracle.

Satan held out his hand to Gahan, who took it and stood, head bowed.

“Raise your head, my son,” Satan told him.

Gahan lifted his head and smiled. For the first time in a long time he felt he belonged. He felt he was home.

“I present to you, Gahan — the latest weapon in our arsenal,” Satan said to the those who had gathered to witness the event. The crowd clapped wildly. It had been an occasion of significant importance. The tide was turning, and the balance of power was shifting. Soon it would be time to strike.

Asmodeus clapped along with everyone else. Perhaps he could salvage something. After all, he was going to oversee his training.