Angel's Demon

8. Cardinal Coup

8. Cardinal Coup

Three gongs sounded, announcing to all that the great dining hall was locked. No one could enter, and no one could leave. An eerie silence descended upon the enormous room. All heads turned towards the now-closed doors, to watch their lord and master as he made the long trek to the front of the room, where the stage was set.

Satan was dressed for the occasion, wearing a full-length robe as black as a starless night — a dark pope in a dark world. The hundreds of demons, Satan-created monsters, and lesser, demon-created monsters that were lucky enough to be in attendance, stood and applauded. Satan walked slowly down the black carpet that had been laid out in his honour, nodding at a demon here, and a monster there. To many he was a hero, to others he was God-like and worshipped as such. A demon-created monster prostrated himself in front of Satan, and kissed his bare feet, trying not to flinch as his lips burned from touching the dark one’s flesh. Satan sidestepped the monster and continued his journey.

When Satan was standing in front of the dais he turned and bowed, with a flourish, to his adoring minions. The applause continued, louder than before. After a few moments, Satan raised his hands in a gesture that indicated they should be seated and cease their applause.

“My friends,” he began, “thank you for joining me to celebrate this momentous occasion. Today, the conversion of a cardinal takes place. Whilst I will be responsible for the final desecration that will complete the conversion, I cannot claim the credit for having found one so close to that thing’s representative topside. One that was worked on in a record amount of time — the constant whispering and voices, the noises, the ghostly apparitions of the dearly departed, the torture. All those things, and more, drove this man — this mortal — towards us, where we could embrace him and provide him with the succour he required. Even now, he hears the whispering.

“I present to you, my loyal followers, the archdemon Asmodeus — the demon who is pushing us to bigger and better things.” Satan extended his arm and Asmodeus stepped down from the dais to stand by his side. “The rate of his personal conversions has increased ten-fold over the last two months alone.”

Satan clapped his hands together and the audience followed his lead, the applause loud and strong. Asmodeus bowed to Satan, then turned and bowed to those who had gathered to witness the event. Satan let the applause continue as he extended open arms towards Asmodeus. Asmodeus acknowledged the welcoming gesture by stepping into Satan’s embrace. His clothing was well and truly smouldering by the time the applause subsided and they disengaged.

In an unusual display of humility, Satan decided to walk up the few stairs rather than float to the top of the dais. He carefully lifted his robes away from his feet, so as not to trip, as he slowly and deliberately walked up each step. Ever the showman, he considered every move he made to ensure it had an impact. Even the tiniest details of tonight’s event would be indelibly etched on the minds of those who watched.

Matthias was sitting exactly where Asmodeus had left him — in the middle of the bench. His lips moved soundlessly. His eyes were glazed over. He saw and heard nothing of what was going on around him.

Satan took in everything in a single glance. The sheen of sweat, the horned-bull brand, the holy cloth, stained with blood and s**t that was wrapped about the man’s waist. Wounds that had healed and wounds that were fresh, on chest, arms and hands.

Asmodeus waited for Satan to be seated, unsure of which side he would choose. Ah, Asmodeus thought to himself, as Satan sat down, he sits to the left of the dog. He will make this one believe he is to become Satan’s right-hand man. Asmodeus sat on Matthias’s right side.

“Let us begin,” Satan said.

Asmodeus took his cue and picked up Matthias’s right hand. The man didn’t react. Satan firmly took hold of the mortal’s left hand. This time Matthias did react, though it was not what any of them had expected. He did not cry out in pain, as those who were being converted usually did. His hand burned, of that there was no doubt, and the smell of searing flesh reached those closest to the stage. The man turned his head towards Satan, leaned in and kissed his cheek. His lips burned. Again, he did not cry out.

The gathered crowd was silent, spellbound by the proceedings on the stage. This was history in the making. For someone to not utter a sound when burned through contact with Satan was a rare thing. Only one other, until this point in time, had not screamed in pain when first touched by Satan … she had not been mortal though. This one was.

“Who am I?” Satan asked the man to his right.

“You are my saviour,” Matthias replied.

“And what of my trinity?”

The mortal looked into Satan’s eyes, his face a picture of reverence for the omnipotent being who was gently caressing his left hand with fire from hell. The burning mattered not. Flesh was weak, but what was beyond it was eternally strong.

“Satan, the Antichrist and the False Prophet. So be it forever more.”

Satan smiled. What a triumph this was. To be able to send a cardinal back into the mortal world, insinuating himself into everything good and despoiling it for the betterment of evil. Eventually even the Pope may succumb.

“Would you drink from the cup of eternal life?” Satan asked.

Matthias shook his head. “I am unworthy, my lord.”

“And in professing your unworthiness I find you worthy,” Satan replied. He placed both hands gently on either side of the mortal’s face and leaned in to kiss him deeply on the mouth. A moan of pleasure escaped from Matthias’s mouth. He closed his eyes, lost in a moment of ecstasy where there should have been pain.

When Satan pulled back, the lower part of the mortal’s face was an unrecognisable mass of blackened flesh. Satan stood and extended his arms, as if inviting a supplicant to embrace him and accept the darkness he offered.

“Open your mouth, my son, and be reborn in me,” Satan said.

Matthias struggled to open his mouth, the flesh hard as coal. He wrestled his right hand free of Asmodeus’s grip and used both hands to prise his mouth open.

Satan called forth a dagger and nodded to Asmodeus, who stood and raised his left arm above the mortal’s face. A quick s***h to the wrist saw Asmodeus’s blood run freely, down into the open maw that had once been a man’s mouth. Matthias reflexively swallowed.

The ground beneath the dais began to shake. Satan turned his head to the side, as though listening to something no one else could hear. His eyes grew wide, and his smile even wider. Some significant cosmic event was unfolding, here and now. Could it be the beginning — release from this prison? The start of the apocalypse for which he had waited so long? For years he had believed Helena would be the catalyst, but now … could he have been wrong?

A bright, white light began to emanate from every pore of the man who was being converted. It blinded everyone except Satan, who walked around the dais, watching the marvel unfold from every angle. The shaking became more violent, though it posed no problem to Satan — he was as sure-footed as the sturdiest of mountain goats.

A high-pitched keening erupted from within the audience. Satan cast a quick glance in their direction and observed that the light was causing bare flesh to ooze blood. Asmodeus was the only other being not to be affected in such a manner, though the light still blinded him. If the light could not be extinguished there would be some deaths before the day was done. While the idea of watching some of his own die, writhing in puddles of blood, was appealing, the noise of their wailing was not. He turned his attention back to the mortal, who was still seated.

There was warmth in the light. Satan could feel the godliness in it, yet he did not shirk or shrink away. Instead he let it wash over him, bathing in its glory, and then he let it in, to touch the core of his very being. Once Satan had absorbed as much as his body could handle, he ripped open the black robe he was wearing and sent the light back towards the mortal, though it was warped and twisted, as black as his soul.

The light issuing forth from the mortal was quickly extinguished. The ground ceased shaking. A tapping noise could be heard throughout the room. Matthias’s feet had started to jerk uncontrollably and repeatedly stomped on the dais. His body thrashed around violently, in the grip of some seizure or final battle for his eternal soul. His head shook from side to side rapidly, causing the tiny blood vessels in his eyes to burst and his nose to bleed. At last he screamed and fell to the floor.

An eerie silence descended. No one dared to utter a word, take a deep breath or sneeze. This was not normal.

Satan clapped his hands slowly and loudly. He laughed before turning to the audience and saying, “Marvellous. I do believe this was no ordinary conversion.”

Asmodeus scowled quietly. If this was the prize he had been searching for, Satan had snatched it away from him. He needed to think how he could turn this to his advantage. He needed to bide his time and exercise some patience.

A click of the fingers by Satan and the inert body was raised to an upright position, held up by invisible hands.

“Wake, my son.”

As the mortal raised his head, he opened his eyes, revealing an inky blackness devoid of all that makes one human — life, emotion, rational thought, and lastly, a soul free of the taint of evil.

Satan heard the voices of the audience, growing from a murmur to a strangled shout of … fear? Did they fear what was happening here? He laughed.

“Look!” someone behind him yelled.

Satan raised his eyes. He had been so transfixed and full of joy at what he had seen in the man’s eyes that he had not noticed what was happening behind this remarkable mortal. A shadow was slowly rising, darker than a shadow should be. When it had reached the height of the great dining hall, black wings unfurled and touched the walls on either side. Suddenly the shadow swooped, and entered the mortal’s body. Matthias blinked once and smiled, feeling that for the first time in his life he was alive. Power surged through his veins, threatening to unleash itself at any moment.

Satan leaned in and kissed the cardinal on the forehead. He had felt this sensation, the way his lips touched the skin, only once before. He knew that his touch would no longer burn this man, this earth-bound angel. One of Helena’s kin was now his to command. This changed everything.