Gods of Death

11 : Night in Eden; Rivers in Hell

Jophiel gently passed Victor his sword.

"Kill me," she said.

"What?" Victor was incredulous. Emma, too, jumped from the table in shock, flicking her wings out to hover in the air.

"There is always an alternative answer to any problem, Victor, and this is what is needed here. I want you to kill me."

"You said you wanted me to help you."

"Precisely. Killing myself would be..." she paused, "difficult. And pointless. You have to do it."

"No."

Jophiel smiled and her halo flared once more. Victor watched in awe as cotton twisted into strands of silver, as wings billowed, as facial features morphed. There was a flash of flame as Jophiel drew his sword.

"Do it!" he commanded, his voice thundering across the tranquillity of Eden.

Victor swung his sword, gripping tightly to the hilt as it met the Archangel's neck unparried. Like Chamuel before him, Jophiel's head came free. It turned to dust before it hit the ground.

There was a sudden darkness as simultaneously the angel's halo vanished and day became a moonless night. Jophiel's lifeless body pitched forward and fell to the ground with a solid thump. Victor watched in silence as the corpse of the Archangel decayed and broke apart in the dim light.

"Victor," Emma said, her tiny hand on his shoulder and her wings beating in his ear. "We have to go."

"Do we?" Victor sat back down on the vine-woven bench that hadn't been there an hour before. "Why do we? Do we need to rush back to do their bidding? Do we need to run away to make sure we're not caught here? Do we have another f*****g Archangel to kill?"

"All of that." Emma's voice was thick with sadness.

"None of this makes any sense, Emma. Why did she do that?"

"Jophiel?"

Victor nodded.

"I haven't got a f*****g clue."

Victor looked up at the little imp and smiled. It was dark and she was barely more than a silhouette in the night, but he knew he could see the beautiful woman hovering there.

"Who were you Emma? Who are you?"

Her eyes turned sharp. "Why are you asking me that?" she snapped. "Time to go, Victor, killer of angels."

She began the dance that Victor was coming to recognise as the portal spell. He wanted to stay there, to rest for longer in the Garden. The darkness would go, he could sense it, it was little more than a temporary moment of respect for its groundskeeper.

"We don't have to go," he argued as the shining light of the mystical doorway illuminated the grass.

"We do, and we have to go now," Emma said. "You first."

She whipped her tail before him a couple of times, but seemed careful not to connect the sharp barb with his skin. Victor grunted, stood, snatched up his sword and walked back to Hell.

Blistering heat assaulted his face as soon as he stepped through. Blind in a haze of orange light, Victor stumbled and fell, his free hand naturally reaching out to grab at something. It connected with a firm length of wood; a staff. He blinked a couple of times to get his eyes used to the light and looked up at One's face, gazing down at him.

The platform they were on was moving; slipping. Victor craned his neck to see past the old man and saw that they rode a slab of sharp black rock on a flowing river of lava. He gasped and the air burned his throat.

"f*****g look at him!" Three's voice was complete with his incessant cackle. "Can't take the heat."

Three continued as Victor stood:

"What's wrong, little boy, can't breathe? Can't see? I thought you would have enjoyed a little ride on the rapids of Hell!"

"I'm fine," Victor croaked.

"You are a piss-poor liar!" countered Three.

Victor coughed and stood, letting go of One's staff and doing his best to stand firm on the moving rock. His balance was vastly improved through the earlier training, and once his brain caught up to the situation, he maintained an impressively casual stance.

"You have dispatched Jophiel," said Two. The fat God stood next to Three and smiled. "Congratulations; there were some of us who believed it couldn't be done."

Victor nodded. He had nothing to say on the subject.

"This is going well," continued Two. "you are proving the right choice for the task, Victor, definitely my favourite of the candidates."

"Candidates?"

"We tell you this out of some respect, Victor." One took over the narrative. "You are not the only warrior-assassin we have working for us."

Victor stared at him.

"You have already met Marzena, have you not? I believe she helped you regain your concentration when Chamuel held you under thrall."

Victor nodded.

"We do not want to have to send her, or any of the others, to clean up your messes." One paused for a long moment. "But then, so far, you have done well enough."

The platform lurched and Victor staggered. Alone of the four men on the jagged raft, he fought to regain his balance - for the others it was as if the incident had never happened.

"Imp!" Two commanded Emma's presence. Victor looked up and smiled; he could still see her true nature ghosting her flapping form.

Emma was obviously having as much trouble with the extreme heat from the flow of lava as Victor. She nodded a response rather than speaking. Two smiled.

"You have your instructions; follow them," he said.

Emma nodded again. She performed her dance, struggling to make the movements in the air while maintaining pace with the river. Twice she failed to complete the incantation, dropping like a stone towards the flow of fire before discarding the ritual in favour of her life. Seemingly bored, One stabbed his staff on the surface of the rock and all movement stopped.

Victor looked over the side at the lava, no longer moving at all but held in place like a paused video. Emma shot into the air and danced the routine one more time. The portal opened and she flicked her tail around Victor's wrist, dragging him in behind her.