Gods of Death

9 : Entering the Garden

"Tell me you f****d up, I really want to hear you f****d up!" Three leaned forward and waggled his fingers at Victor.

Victor shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint," he muttered.

One stared at him. Victor could feel the God's eyes bore through his very skull.

"Something is wrong," One said, "but I don't really care. Chamuel is dead, yes?"

Victor nodded.

"Good." One walked around Victor in a long circle, his slow clacking of the staff on the flagstones the only sound to be heard.

"You want to kill us, don't you?" he said once he was back in his starting position. "Thoughts are changing, morality shifting, desire fighting with righteousness."

"Something like that," Victor agreed.

"You've lost your edge already. Where're the retorts? The snappy sarcasm? Where have your balls gone, little boy?"

"I'm no little boy." Victor stood up straight and looked right into the face of the wrinkled and bearded old man.

"Good," said One.

"f**k you," said Victor.

"Too forced," said One. "Don't just spit at us because we prodded your belly. Do it when you really feel it, and right now, you don't feel it."

"Chamuel got to you, didn't he?" Two said. He had been silent the whole time and if it hadn't been for his massive bulk crowding the view, Victor could have forgotten he was there. Victor said nothing.

"No point hiding the fact, s**t-face," said Three, "We spoke to Simon."

"So what now, Victor?" One asked him, their eyes locking, "Are you wanting to turn? Take your chances with the Archangels? They are not going to be happy you killed one of them; that's not happened in a very long while."

"Or are you still our little b***h?" Three smiled broadly.

"I'm no one's little b***h," said Victor, "and I hold to my word. I said I'd kill them for you and I will."

"Jophiel," Two said. "If you return unscathed, then perhaps you will have a chance at a new life."

Three laughed, "It's too early, he isn't ready. May as well send him to Michael and be done."

"No," Two was firm. "Jophiel." He smiled broadly, showing teeth yellowed by nicotine and damaged by decay. He reached out his hand and gestured casually. Victor felt the lurch of transportation and was gone.

"Urgh!" he said, his knees buckling. Bright sunlight glared in his eyes as his body adjusted to a new, calmer, warmth. "Emma?"

"I'm here." The imp landed in front of his face. "Just don't be f*****g sick on me."

Victor crouched on the grass. Wildflowers sprouted through the blades of verdant green. "Where are we?"

"If I had to guess?"

"I thought you'd be sure. You recognised Sweden."

"This isn't Sweden."

"Well?"

"It's the Garden."

"How very poetic."

"No, you d**k; not some poetic title: The Garden of Eden."

Victor lifted up his head to look around him. It was stunningly beautiful. Flowers grew in delicate groups, but not in a way that suggested landscaping; rather in a way that rejected the very idea of uniformity. Roses entwined with tulips which in turn swayed alongside clumps of firm lavender. Bushes of rhododendrons mixed with curling ivy and fruiting raspberries to form a backdrop of almost-ridiculous nonsense. It was delightful, playful and vibrant. Victor loved it.

"Do you think there's an apple tree?" he asked with a grin.

"I think if there is you should leave it the f**k alone." Emma chided. "This isn't a peaceful playground, this is dangerous."

"Eden?"

"A place where no human has been allowed since the dawn of time? Yeah, I'm thinking we're trespassing."

"You're not human, and honestly I don't even know if I am any more."

"Not the point, Victor, we are not welcome here."

"Worried about the hand of God?"

Emma looked down at him, her face serious. "Are you telling me you are not?"

Victor pulled himself to his feet. "At this point," he said, "God turning up would be a f*****g relief. At least it would all be done."

"You don't know that."

"Emma, what the f**k is going on?"

"I can't tell you. Now don't you think we should be finding Jophiel?"

"What's he the Archangel of?"

"Look around you. Jophiel is tied in to the concept of beauty."

"Well, that's hardly threatening."

"Maybe." Emma sounded worried.

Victor adjusted his clothes, drew his sword and readied himself. "OK. This time we hit first and ask questions later."

"That was the plan the first time."

"Then let's execute it slightly better."

Emma laughed. "This way," she said a moment later, "I can feel him."

Walking through the Garden of Eden took all of Victor's concentration. At every step he saw new beauty in the flowers, a degree of fascination with every twist of vine, or growth of bark on a tree. He ducked under willow leaves, and passed through groves of olives with equal wonder, stepped over tiny brooks and gazed into the shimmering reflections of puddles created from perfect gaps in the rocks.

"Emma, this place is incredible," he said. He leaned his sword gently against a tree and splashed his face with dew-dripped water that had pooled on a giant leaf.

"I know," the little imp whispered, her own awe showing in her voice.

"Why don't we stop?"

"Stop?"

"We are in the Garden of Eden and what, I'm planning on killing Archangels for some stupid deal to win back my soul? They don't even have my soul, right now. They don't have anything. We should stop now, throw this mission away and just stay here. Do you really think going back to my old life would be better than years spent in the Garden of Eden? Wiping out all the credit card debt in the world isn't enough."

"We can't."

"You keep acting like that's the case, but why? Why can't we?"

"For f**k's sake, Victor, we're the f*****g bad guys. Don't you get it? If Jophiel finds us here, do you think he's going to say 'Sure, guys, stay. Camp a while. Would you like some fruit?'? He's going to f*****g s*******r us both."

"Chamuel didn't."

"You think he would have protected you from them?"

"He was a f*****g Archangel!" Victor screamed.

"Yes, and you f*****g killed him!" Emma screamed back. "I think you blew your chances of redemption with the good guys right then."

Victor grabbed the sword from the side and swung it at the imp. Emma darted to one side, her wing flicked under the arc of the blade and was within millimetres of being cut. She shrieked and tucked into a ball, landing on the soft grass and rolling down a slope.

Taking a step forward, Victor cut his blade through the air once more. There was a deep ringing as his sword met resistance. It was parried by another sword, hilt to tip engulfed in tongues of orange flame. Jophiel pushed forward with his hand, sending Victor stumbling backwards.

The archangel stood there. Flaming sword held before him in a strong grip. His armour mirrored Chamuel's, his wings similarly impressive, only he stood in a battle stance, and there was no chance of his being taken unaware. Victor looked up at his face, perfect features framed with strands of long dark hair and a halo as incandescent as his sword.

"Yield, interloper!" the Archangel ordered.