Gods of Death

10 : Jophiel

Victor didn't yield.

His eyes stinging from anger, he swung his sword at the Archangel's shins. A low cut like that exposed him slightly, but if Jophiel wasn't anticipating it then the advantage of the surprise would more than mitigate the extended stance. Jophiel parried and then counter-attacked, his flaming sword coming too close to Victor's chin.

"I have no desire to crush you, servant of Evil, but I will see you subdued," the angel called out. "Relinquish your weapon and bow to me."

Victor laughed. "And they said I was arrogant," he said, successfully parrying and riposting each blow.

From behind Jophiel came a woman. She walked slowly over the hill, a shimmering vision that distracted Victor from the combat. Jophiel's sword crossed into Victor's chest and he couldn't jump back fast enough. The thin cut was immediately cauterised, leaving a vicious stinging welt across his stomach.

With the pain, the woman disappeared, replaced by Emma, her wings flapping their familiar beat as she approached.

Victor changed tactic, slamming his sword directly into Jophiel's own and using the slight hesitation from the resultant shock to rush forward and crash his shoulder into the Archangel's midriff. Jophiel beat his wings hard, forcing air forward like a wave and Victor was pushed back.

"Yield!" the glowing figure commanded again. He was unhurt, rising now above the ground with the strength of his wings buffetting Victor with his own personal wind.

Victor dropped his sword and sighed. Jophiel kicked him hard in the face and then, when he was laying splayed back on the luscious grass, the angel placed a foot firmly in his chest.

"Who are you and what are you doing in Eden?" Jophiel demanded.

Emma flew down to rest next to Victor's head. "Oops!" she said with a little laugh.

"Human!" Jophiel roared.

Victor wiggled under the Archangels foot until Jophiel relinquished. Careful not to move his hand near to his sword, he propped himself up into a sitting position before shuffling backward to find a tree to lean against.

Around him grasses grew and lengthened, flowers bloomed, twisting into each other to form decorated vines, and branches grew out of the trees to work their way across the area. Victor looked at Jophiel who was sheathing his own sword, flame now diminished to a subtle glow. Jophiel's halo seemed to brighten, becoming too much for Victor to look at and he closed his eyes to protect them from the light.

When he opened them again, Jophiel was wearing a light white dress and had become female. Her hair cascaded in waves to shoulders that were bare but for the thin straps of the cotton dress, her wings were much smaller now and were folded neatly at her back. The plants had come together to form a table and two benches, and Jophiel indicated that he should sit.

"I think," she said in a voice that was immediately calming, "that we should talk." She looked over at the imp crouched on the grass. "You too, creature; you are welcome while you remain respectful."

Emma jumped into the air, spread her wings and descended to land at the far side of the small table. Victor saw, once again, that image of a beautiful woman somehow superimposed over his irritating companion. He wondered if he saw her as she truly was, or as she once had been.

"Your name? I am Jophiel."

"Victor." Victor did his best to keep his tone level.

"An irony, of sorts. After all, you didn't win."

"Not this time," Victor countered.

Jophiel nodded. "You are very angry," she noted.

Victor relaxed his muscles, dropped his shoulders a little. "I'm sorry," he said. "There's been a lot going on."

Jophiel smiled; an expression which would have caused artists, sculptors and poets to drop to their knees in furious worship, scrabbling for their tools in order to immortalise the moment. Victor merely stared in unbidden adoration.

"Shall we see if we can find a more equitable solution to your situation?" Jophiel said. "Why don't you tell me everything?”

Victor resisted. His mind was a tangle of conflicting thoughts. Somewhere there was a perverse loyalty to the Gods of Death, a tie to the three old men that he couldn't explain. The mystical magics of the past few weeks made him question his own feelings - after all, was this thread of honour to them of his making or something that had been placed upon him?

Elsewhere in his mind, he knew without doubt that this war against the Archangels was wrong. Killing Chamuel had been a mistake, forced upon him in a moment of chaos. It wasn't completely his fault. Surely, it wasn't his fault.

"Chamuel," he said quietly.

"Knowledge has already reached us all, Victor," Jophiel said. "Perhaps it was that which drove my initial reaction to you, perhaps not. It is a problem, a regret for sure, but it has happened and what happens next does not necessarily have to be tainted by it. Chamuel himself would not have condoned that."

"You forgive me for it?"

"Forgiveness is in our nature, but no, I have not reached it yet. Perhaps I am waiting for you to forgive yourself."

Victor shook his head. He glanced at Emma who was strange in her silence. Again the pretty women; he wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

"Tell me of your sponsors," Jophiel requested. "Of them I would know much more."

Victor spoke openly of the three Gods of Death. He found it easy, the words pouring from him like water from a cracked pipe. Here in the Garden of Eden, he swallowed his usual colourful flair with obscene language and worked instead with more descriptive terms more suited to his audience. One became an embittered and hunched fool, desperate for validation; Two was to be pitied, his physical obesity shielding him from rejection he had no doubt regularly suffered; while Three was stuck forever in his own pre-pubescent childhood, spitting hatred because he had never known love.

Victor considered the Gods of Death and found compassion in himself where he had previously nurtured hatred and fear.

"They are new," Jophiel said once Victor finished his explanation. "We cannot see them, nor did we know of their coming."

The Archangel stood and put her hands on the table. She leaned forward.

"Victor, will you help me?"