I unlock the door to my campus house. I figured I would have been booted after giving my resignation, but apparently The Chamber has told them that I am to remain on the premises on “Government Business”. Not like it will matter, anyway. We are going to be hitting the road soon, and I have no certainty on ever coming back.
“So, Simon. I saw you shaking in your holster in the presence of Gold Verse.” I was referring to Alziz. “Any particular reason why?”
Shut up, Hunter. That man was way more than he seemed. He could very well have been Jesus-f*cking-Christ! Water to wine! A ‘friend’ of his owns my soul! He very well was the Son of God, you dumbass!
“I have my suspicion of that too. And he made no attempt to hide it either. He wasn’t afraid to allude to it. The fact that if he is Jesus, then we couldn’t have touched him if we wanted to. If he wanted us dead, he would have done it himself. If we were any threat, he could call a legion of Angels to protect him. But he didn’t do any of that. Any ideas why?”
Playing right into the Son of God’s hand?
And for f*ck sake, why did you leave your number on his desk?!
“Old habits die hard. Six months ago, I was an Episcopalian, and I am still well versed in the lore and laws of God. Meeting the savior of my past religion was a hard thing to stop myself from going giddy teen fangirl over.” I pause. “I’m also certain that working for him would be very rewarding, and it would be nice to have a side job after the possibility of diverting Nightmare Green.”
And you’d better keep your word. I swear, if you ever bring me in the presence of him again, I will kill you and stay a gun forever if I have to!
“Don’t worry. I don’t think we will speak with him again. He spoke as though we wouldn’t, and if he wills it, we can’t stop him.”
Right, then. I’m true to my word if you are, Hunter.
I sit down on my couch and observe the stack of six months of unopened mail. Packages and letters piled about two feet high. I think I’ll open and sort them all before I leave. They could very well be the last mail I ever open.
I start flipping through the letters, tearing through a few with a pen knife on the table next to me. Most of them were junk mail, like credit card offers and Extenze advertisements. I continued to talk with Lark to ease the tedium.
“I thought Satanism was about screwing over as many people as you can, Simon.”
I am not a Satanist, I am a Diabolist. Satanism is the mainstream pose of what I do. I didn’t chop up and bleed out cats on graves, go to the fashion show babble track they call Black Masses, and I never broke my word. Diabolists are not without honor, and Lucifer committed no crime.
“What do you think Lucifer’s crime was supposedly?”
I don’t think he was dumb enough to tell God he could do his job better, but you’d laugh at my theory. I could hear the chuckling in his voice.
“Well, I’m all ears.” I fumble with the knife as it falls into an open letter from Allstate.
As cheesy as it sounds, he loved God the most. When God told the Angels to bow down to mankind, he refused, saying he could only bow down to God. God grew angry of his disobedience, and cast him out. Now, does that sound like the actions of a loving father, or an overgrown, all-powerful egotistical four year old?
“I’ve heard that reason before. The other one that I heard was that he was actually dumb enough to say that he could do God’s job better and raise his throne higher.”
If that theory was true, then that just makes Lucifer the first suicidal idiot.
“Emo?” I quip. I pick up a rather thick letter, with the return address scraped up to hell.
I guess you’d put it that way. Either way, that sounds very ill-thought out for an angel of any stripe. I’ve only seen small children dumb enough to tell their ten-times bigger and stronger father to go f*ck himself and think they can run the house better. Wouldn’t you agree, Hunter?
I couldn’t reply. Looking at the letter in my hand made my heart jump.
I think you’re right. You talked of the belief that there was magic in the world, and I think that I’ve found it. And it scares me. A package should be coming for you soon. Inside is a book and a CD. The book is what scares me. It’s written in Latin, and I can’t understand it very much, but the images and just the feeling that it gives me frightens me. I think it’s evil, and I really only can think of you to have it, because I think you know how to properly dispose of it. The CD on the other hand, is a stranger one. It’s from a band called Seraphim And NightWing, a metal band from Seattle. The only member of this band who has a pseudonym is the lead guitarist, who is only listed in the credits as “The Angel”. The music is impressive, and theme seems to allude to a dark view of Christianity, not sacrilegious but cynical. The album artwork would interest you, and I’ll leave it at that.
Best wishes, Timothy Eustace
I sit bolt upright. Simon was repeating my name, trying to get my attention, but this was an important problem. I immediately start sifting through the packages, and chop them open with the pen knife, wielding it like a dagger. Two of the packages had crucial lore books, which was well and good, but not of primary concern. Another had an iron brazier, also not important at the second. Then I found it, and the book made me flinch when I saw it. The Veiled Power Awakened . A very dark text, indeed. No wonder This gave Timothy the heebie-jeebies.
I scoop up Simon and show him the book. I recognize this! This is a copy of my preferred means of magic! It’s a great read, Hunter, I think you would find it insightful.
“Uh, no. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with this, but reading it is not on the list of what to do.”
I pick up the CD next, and it was definitely more refreshing. The title of it was Burning Away Hell. Also refreshing, I suppose. I walked to the CD player in the kitchen, and took out whatever Ward left in the player, stuck it in, and hit play. I set Simon on the kitchen table, and walked to the fridge to pour myself a little wine. Something I definitely needed after that jolt.
I heard a riff soar into the air from the guitar line, and not a moment after, I heard Simon yowl in agony.
I rush in to see Simon, burning bright crimson and smoke emanating off of him.
SHUT THAT OFF! SHUT THAT THE F*CK OFF!
I unplug the player from the outlet near me, and he goes silent, smoke trailing from his form on the table. I could already see the ring he scorched onto the table.
He was panting and gasping, like he actually had lungs to pant and gasp with.
“Simon? Would you like to go to the room?”
Hunter. Just shut up and take me there. Switch it to HBO, and don’t say another word to me.
I did exactly as he said. He was hurt, and he wanted to rest it off.
My head was swimming with thought. I was concerned about the stuff that Timothy had sent me, the magical CD only the least among the worries. The book, the CD, and all the other contents of the packages were going to my study. The CD would be some good listening as I skimmed the lore books.
I soldiered back into the living room and began picking up the books, and winced as I felt the cold hide of the dark book. I was curious, I will admit.