“How do we do it?” she asked. “How can we destroy God?”
Tribunal smiled at her use of the word we. “You are with me, then?”
“I am always with you, my love,” said Nyx, the last of her fears and misgivings fading with the strength of his touch. “Until the stars die and time ends, and beyond.”
Tribunal kissed her again, shade lips bringing together the pure energies of their beings.
“But how?” asked Nyx, when they broke apart. “How will You kill him?”
“I can only tell you the next two tasks.”
“You’re asking me to help you kill God and you won’t trust me with the details?” said Nyx.
“It is not that I don’t trust you,” said Tribunal.
“Then what is it?”
“To tell you everything would put you in too much danger.”
“How much danger can I be in?” asked Nyx. “God is gone from the Earth, my Angels wander the Earth, not His. He does not see anything that occurs there.”
“When the next two tasks are complete, the world shall open again,” said Tribunal. “The Angels of Heaven and Hell will once more be able to walk the earth, and He will once more be able to see all that transpires. Once He does, he will know all your thoughts. It is better you only know the next steps.”
“All right,” said Nyx, though she wasn’t sure she believed him. Where is this doubt coming from? “What are the next steps?”
Tribunal looked carefully at her for a few moments, His gaze piercing beyond the features of her shade and deep into the soul beneath. Her soul was conflicted, He could see, and there was a seed of mistrust there that was slowly growing. It doesn’t matter, He decided. If she does what is needed, then I will ensure that all else happens.
“Before God can be killed, there are certain things that must occur,” Tribunal said. “The first of them you have done. We now have more followers than God, and Jerusalem is in their hands. The second is a far greater task, the third greater still.” He smiled at her, letting all of his strength radiate out to her. “For your first task, you must create an Angel.”
Nyx stared at Tribunal in complete disbelief. “Only God can create an Angel.”
Tribunal smiled wide. “Not so. All that’s needed is the Word is needed.”
Nyx tilted her head. “The Word?” She repeated. “You mean the Word?”
“‘In the beginning was the Word,’ ” quoted Tribunal. “‘And the Word was with God. And the Word was God. ”
“The Word is God’s alone,” argued Nyx. “Only He knows the Word. Only he can use it.”
“But you forget,” said Tribunal. “I am God.”
Nyx found herself backing away, “You…you are not God…You’re Tribunal.”
“But I am,” said Tribunal. “When God went to my mother and told her to bring me into being on the Earth, He didn’t mount her like a bull with a cow. He took part of himself, and poured that into her. He created Himself inside her, and in doing so, created me.” The strength of Him was radiating out, stronger than it ever had before. It was a strength far, far greater than Nyx’s own. And now she realized that it stemmed from the Godhead inside Him. “He created me as Himself, and in doing so, He poured into me all things, including the Word.”
Tribunal turned the full force of his presence upon Nyx, and for a moment it was all she could do not to kneel before Him. It was only for a moment, though. She had stood before God himself, stained with the ichor of his Angels, defiantly waiting for his hand to smite her, and she had not knelt. She would not kneel now. I will be his equal, or I will not stand with him at all.
“You asked me,” said Tribunal, “What I would trust you with. I will trust you with more power than you have ever held in your life. I will trust you with the Word.”
If Nyx had been breathing in this space, the breath would have left her. As it was, the realization of what he was giving her overwhelmed ever Tribunal’s presence. The Word is power, she thought. And with such power I could…
“Do not abuse it,” warned Tribunal. “The Word is powerful beyond imagining. To create the Angel is enough. Once it is created, the gates of Heaven and Hell will be open, and using the word again on this world will bring all of God’s wrath down upon you.”
“I won’t,” said Nyx, knowing as she said it that the words might well be a lie. Such power…
“The Angel shall be created from your own body. It will be pulled together from the stuff of Angels.”
“Of course, that will mean there are four Angels walking the Earth,” said Nyx.
Tribunal’s smile widened. “And the Gates of Heaven and Hell shall be open once more.”
Nyx nodded. “All right, what’s the second task?”
“Take the Angel you have created to Hell and kill it.”
“Kill it?” repeated Nyx, confused. “Angels can’t die in Hell. Nothing dies in Hell. It’s a place of torment eternal. For something to die there would change the laws of the universe.”
“And when one law changes, they are all open to change,” said Tribunal, “Including the one that says God cannot be destroyed.”
Nyx thought hard about it. It sort of made sense, but not really. If Tribunal said it was right, then it was right. He was God, after all; He should know his own weaknesses.
There’s something…Nyx tried to follow the thought, but it slipped away when Tribunal reached across and put His hand on her. “I’m to bring an Angel into being and then kill it?”
“There is a ritual,” said Tribunal. “One that allows that which cannot die to be destroyed. The Angel will cease to exist. And when it does, when it breaks the laws of existence, then, truly, can we go to work and destroy God Himself.”
“All right,” said Nyx. “When do you want me to do this?”
“As soon as possible,” said Tribunal. “Call forth the Word and then create your Angel.”
“I will,” said Nyx, looking closely at the shade that was Tribunal. She could feel the power that radiated from Him, feel the might, but she could not see His intentions. Are you keeping something from me?
“Soon, my love,” said Tribunal, smiling His shade smile at her, “We shall rule over Heaven and Hell together.”
Tribunal came forward and they embraced once more. Once more she became near-delirious in the warm sea of His power. She drank as much in as she could, and His head leaned closer to hers, and from his mouth, to her ear, came the Word.
He had only whispered it, but it was not a word that could be spoken quietly. The moment the Word passed His lips, it brought light, piercing white light so bright it would have blinded any mortal eyes that saw it. The whispered sound of the Word reverberated, growing louder and louder as the light grew stronger, until the bubble that Tribunal had created could no longer hold the Word’s power, and it split apart, sending the light and the sound of the Word out in a wave that rippled the very fabric of Limbo.
The Word sunk into Nyx, the reverberations of it threatening to shake her very soul apart, even as the white light burned through her, illuminating every thought, every love and hate and jealousy, every act of cruelty and destruction, every moment of pleasure and pain until every single thing that made up the soul of Nyx was bare for all to see.
The Word faded, the ripples in Limbo stopped, and Nyx was once more able to see Tribunal, standing before her.
“You asked me if I trusted you,” He said. “Now you know.” He floated closer, and raised a hand in warning. “The Word is power, Nyx. The greatest power in the universe, and it can destroy anyone who uses it carelessly, or for other than its purpose. Do not use it for more than you have been tasked or you could destroy yourself and do more damage than you would have ever dreamed possible.”
“I understand,” said Nyx, even as she wondered what other purpose the Word might be put to. “I will not.”
For the first time since she had arrived, Nyx heard a sound.
Heard was not the right word, of course. She had no
ears here, no real form except that of the shade that held her soul in this place, but sound was the closest thing she could use to describe what she sensed. It was as if thousands of voices once silent had been raised together. Some were near, some were far, but all cried out.
Tribunal looked into the gray, and nodded. “As I expected.”
Nyx followed his gaze and saw the gray roiling, as if she were beneath the surface of a pond of dirty water, and above, something had stirred it up until it heaved and twisted in on itself.
“They are coming,” said Tribunal. “All of them.”
Nyx saw the souls, then. Thousands had been a poor estimate. Millions would have been closer. Through the grey they came, near-invisible shades, none aware of the others, none knowing anything save WANT. She was about to ask what was happening. Then she understood.
The Word was God.
It was not His incarnation; it was not His person or His consciousness. It was not His presence. But it was His essence, and in unleashing it here, Tribunal had brought God’s essence to a place where God had never been. The hopeless wanderers that searched all eternity without knowing for what they were searching now knew. They knew what it was they desired, and they came to where they had heard it.
The bubble around them re-appeared, and the first of the shades pushed up against it, then another, then a hundred. They came from all sides and all directions. Shades of hands and faces pressed against the bubble, shades of mouths open and pleading, shades of desire and need palpable in the small space.
“They will crush you,” said Tribunal. “The bubble will not hold against all of them and they will find your Angelic flesh and cling to it until your essence disappears. You must go.” He touched her arm, and though the power flowed through her, it was nothing compared to the power of the Word he had unleashed. “Do not use the Word except as I have told you.”
He kissed her forehead, and with that kiss sent the rest of the information she needed to know. He released her, and watched her fade from Limbo.
Tribunal looked at the souls clamoring against the bubble and laughed. “Don’t bother,” he said. “God isn’t here.”
He let the bubble collapse and watched the souls spin frantically about him. They could not touch him, or anything else for that matter. They could not have touched Nyx, had she stayed, but Tribunal had wanted her gone. She had a task to fulfill, and the longer she stayed here, the more questions she would ask, and that would never do.
The bond between an Angel and its creator was one of the strongest in creation. It was why God rarely destroyed his Angels, even those who betrayed Him and rebelled against Him. It was the true reason why He had offered Nyx and Lucifer Hell, rather than ending their existence. It was the reason He had stood back in the battle, and wept as each Angel’s essence was scattered to the winds of Heaven.
It was the reason that Nyx, for all her raw power, would find it nearly impossible to destroy the Angel she was going to make.
I will destroy God, thought Tribunal. I will destroy Him and I will destroy Mankind and I will rule Heaven and Hell in his place.
And no one will stop me.
*
In a monastery near Carcassonne, Nyx and Persephone watched the sun rise.
Tribunal’s touch had always aroused passion in Nyx. Together, they had driven each other to levels of ecstasy that no mortal could have survived. To have Him inside her was one of the greatest pleasures that she had experienced, greater even than that pleasure she and Lucifer used to give each other. This time, though, there had been no touch of His hand, no pressing of flesh to flesh. The energy that filled her soul had only made her more aware of the emptiness in her body. She had been left a purely physical craving that had demanded satisfaction.
She had flown to her Angels first. And when Persephone’s and Ishtar’s pleasure-giving proved not enough, she had come here.
It was easy to change their appearance and appear as three young girls, lost and alone. Easier still to corrupt the younger monks, whose flesh was the first that Nyx used. Over the course of a week they had worked their way through the monastery, from the youngest novice to the old Abbot, taking them for pleasure, singly, in twos or in threes. Some of the monks were worldly men, who had retired to retreat. Others were virgins, who had no idea how to give pleasure to women. But they had learned, all of them, not only to give pleasure to the three young-seeming girls in their midst, but to take pleasure from each other’s bodies, whether the other was a willing participant or not.
The morning before, Nyx had laid her young-seeming body on the main table of the hall, and let all those who wished take their pleasure on her. It had lasted the day and night, and at the end of it she was, if not satisfied, at least satiated. And when the last of the fifty monks had finished his third turn on her, she had risen off the table smiled, and let her true form show.
The monks had ran, horrified, at the sight of her white skin and horned crown and snake’s eyes. They screamed when she spread her wings and laughed at them all. She and Ishtar and Persephone drove them to their cells and locked them in. Through the walls she could hear them wailing and praying as they realized how far they had fallen.
It was delightful. But it was not Tribunal.
And now she sat, a glass of the very fine wine that the monks made in her hand, and watched the sunset. Persephone sat beside her, drinking slowly from her own glass.
“So,” said Persephone. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
Nyx shook her head. “When Ishtar is done.”
She tuned her hearing to the monks’ cells, isolating their voices one by one until she heard the one that Ishtar had dragged from the hall that morning, whipping him as he went. The man was gasping in pain and pleasure simultaneously, and Ishtar was moaning louder and louder until she cried out in pleasure. The man’s gasps stopped suddenly, then Ishtar’s whip slashed into flesh a half-dozen times, and the gasps turned to screams.
“I’d say she’s done,” said Persephone, smiling.
Ishtar, as naked as the others, joined them on the hill. Persephone handed her a glass of wine as she sat beside them.
“And now what, my Queen?” asked Ishtar. “Do we kill them all and burn down their monastery?”
“No,” said Nyx. “Let them wallow in their guilt. Let the pain of their broken vows haunt them for a time.”
“Then what?” asked Persephone “What do we do, now that Jerusalem is ours?”
Nyx smiled at them. “We make an Angel.”
It was rare that she could surprise either Ishtar or Persephone, and Nyx enjoyed immensely the expressions on their faces. She explained it all, explained her plan and Tribunal’s and how they would do it.
“Make an Angel,” mused Ishtar.
“And kill an Angel,” said Persephone, her voice much more foreboding than Ishtar’s.
“We have destroyed Angels before, all of us,” said Nyx. “This will be no different.”
“And what about Hell?” asked Ishtar. “Lucifer has ruled there for a thousand years. I doubt he’ll wish to hand over the reins just because you return.”
“Don’t worry about Lucifer,” said Nyx. “He’ll fall in line when he learns what’s at stake.”
Persephone looked doubtful, but nodded. “All right, then, how will we make an Angel?”
Nyx smiled. “I’ll let you know when it is time,” she said.
“And when will be time?” asked Ishtar.
Nyx rose and her wings spread out. “Soon.” She lifted her head, reading the weather and the wind, then raised a hand. Fire danced in it momentarily, before she cast it into the valley of grapes below.
They would not be killed, these monks, but some sort of punishment was in order, and what better than to have them emerge from their cells and see their beloved vineyards destroyed?
“Come,” she said as she rose into the sky. “Let’s find our Angel.”
The three flew off into the early morning light, leavin
g wails of sorrow and growing flames behind them.
Chapter 11
Nyx flew high above the Mediterranean. The sea below was the spectacular blue that only the Mediterranean offered. The islands were green and lush or sandy or rocky or all three simultaneously. It was, truly, one of the most beautiful places on God’s Earth.
Tribunal’s Earth soon, thought Nyx. Tribunal’s and mine.
She didn’t know where to land. She didn’t know where she should be to bring an Angel into the world. Should it be somewhere beautiful? Somewhere black and bleak? Should she bring it forth in her cave and watch its horror as it realized it was to be a sacrifice?
Can I sacrifice it? She shook her head. She had no idea where the doubt was coming from. Tribunal told me to do it. He wouldn’t have told me to do it if He didn’t think I could. So I’ll do it and fuck all this self-doubt.
She flew on, looking for a place of power.
Once the Angel is created, then I have to get it down to Hell and sacrifice it, she told herself. Tribunal didn’t tell me what the ritual is, though.
The doors between the worlds would re-open when the Angel was created. She could ask him then – would have to ask him then, if she was to do as he bid. He’ll let me know when the time is come.
First I create the Angel. Everything else follows.
“Oh for fuck’s sake stop dithering and do it!” Nyx shouted at herself, startling both Ishtar and Persephone. She looked around her, picked a small island with only ruins and flew down toward it. I am the Queen of Hell. I can open a portal from anywhere, so I’ll damn well open it from here!
“What are you dithering about?” asked Ishtar. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”
“No!” snapped Nyx, all the while wondering: What is my problem? This is nothing. One birth. One death. No big deal.
It is a big deal, Nyx realized. It’s not a birth; it’s creation.
That was what was scaring her. That was what was taking her so long. Any mammal on the planet could give birth. It was messy, bloody, and half the time the young didn’t survive. Didn’t matter in the slightest. This, though, this was creation. And only God did creation. For her to do so was blasphemy of the highest order.