Demon_ A Memoir Part 4

"You would be, too. Maybe you should be."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Come on. It's a lovely day."

THE COMMON WAS ALIVE with the desperate festivity that comes with the last warm day of the season. Couples pushed children in strollers. Brownstone Brahmins walked their dogs, and couples dozed, curled up in quilts. A coed football game was in progress on the lawn, and leaves were everywhere, the trees having thrown their autumnal parade seemingly overnight, leaving behind a slew of red, yellow, and orange confetti.

I hadn't been to the Common since last year's July 4 when we-Dan, Sheila, Aubrey, and I-had decided to camp out on a patch of gra.s.s to get a good view of the fireworks. Aubrey was distant that day, and her moodiness had irritated me. Two days later, I found the e-mail from Richard.

Now here I was again, this time with either a demon or a psychopathic, albeit talented, hypnotist-part of me still clung to the shrinking possibility that an explanation might still be found in this corporeal world-and last year's Fourth of July seemed as surreal a life as my new one had become.

We were walking toward the Soldiers and Sailors Monument, in the direction of the Public Garden, but even now I could see the blackness of Eden, the blaze of light that was Lucifer, the trailing stream of angels that followed him in a fleeing Milky Way of bright bodies. But before I would hear more, I wanted something.

"You said that first night that you came at great risk." "Yes."

"What's the risk?"

Lucian sighed heavily, as though it would take great effort to explain. "Is it not enough that I have a.s.sumed it?"

I was silent.

"I'm sure you would agree that this is highly unconventional," he said at last.

To say the least.

"It would not be looked well upon, my talking with you."

"By whom?"

"By just about any of them. Us. Enough now. This does not serve my purpose."

"Your purpose? What about mine? I've spent an entire night falling from heaven, and you know what? I'm exhausted."

"What do you want, Clay?" He sounded weary, and this aggravated me even more.

"I want to know why! If this is dangerous for you-and I have no idea what kind of ramifications this will have for me-I want at least to know why why you're doing it." you're doing it."

"I told you you were safe. Any 'ramifications,' as you call them, will be those of your own making. As for why I'm doing this, I've already told you that as well. I'm not going to waste our time answering the same question twice."

I had hoped, if he answered it again, that I might glean some small detail more because, although I had heard his reasons, I did not understand them. Why would a demon want his memoirs published? And why by me? He had laughed at my first notion, that he was here to strike a devil's bargain. But despite his irritation at my asking again, I could not help feeling that there was something more.

"I saw Lucifer leading you away, but I didn't see where he took you."

The demon tromped alongside me, his pasty skin and black boots a decided 180 after the stylish redhead, the dignified black man. "We a.s.sumed he would lead us to a place of our own. A place of his making-as though he had truly become, in that short time, a G.o.d. As though he cared for us and would recreate that garden and walk in it among us. But he led us nowhere." He looked up toward the tops of the trees, their branches like the spa.r.s.e scalps of aging men.

"There was no other place to go. We hovered on the edge of the earth in fear-fear and silence. And I longed for Eden, settling even then beneath those murky waters, the beautiful facets of the gems within it reflecting nothing but darkness. I was sick for it, would have given anything-if I had had anything to give-to have it all back as it was."

I remembered the day Aubrey left our apartment.

"But here was the most terrible thing: El went down to Eden and laid himself out over the waters, there to brood in trembling sorrow. And it infused me, this sorrow. It saturated my being. Beside me, seraphim huddled with long faces. Some of them wept. I had never seen such tears before-dark, remorseful, bereft of joy. There was only sadness and dread, that terrible sense that had I been a G.o.d, I would have set it all back. I would have erased everything, returned it all to the way it had been."

"Why couldn't you?" I said. "For that matter, why couldn't G.o.d?"

The kid gave a jolt of laughter that sounded slightly hysterical, and then his lips curled back from his teeth, and spittle flew out with his words. "I'll tell you why: Because we were d.a.m.ned! d.a.m.ned! Oh, not that I knew it then-how could I? There was no precedent for any of it. Wrong had never existed. Lucifer had to manufacture that first aberration himself. Until then, there had been one law dictated by the sole fact of our creation: Wors.h.i.+p the creator. And now, as surely as Lucifer's throne had broken into a thousand splinters, we had violated that order." Oh, not that I knew it then-how could I? There was no precedent for any of it. Wrong had never existed. Lucifer had to manufacture that first aberration himself. Until then, there had been one law dictated by the sole fact of our creation: Wors.h.i.+p the creator. And now, as surely as Lucifer's throne had broken into a thousand splinters, we had violated that order."

"I thought Adam was the original sinner."

"You humans always like to think of yourselves as the first at everything."

I ignored his open sneer. "What if you had apologized?"

"Apologized." He spit onto the edge of the path. "Let me tell you something: Apologies are a funny thing. Half the time they're insincere. And even when they aren't, there's nothing a person can do to undo whatever he did. Oops, I ran over your cat. So sorry. Meanwhile, the cat's dead, entrails oozing out of its mouth. Now I can buy you a new cat, but it hasn't changed anything except that I now have an opportunity to run over your new cat as well. If Aubrey had apologized, would it have made it all better?" He spit onto the edge of the path. "Let me tell you something: Apologies are a funny thing. Half the time they're insincere. And even when they aren't, there's nothing a person can do to undo whatever he did. Oops, I ran over your cat. So sorry. Meanwhile, the cat's dead, entrails oozing out of its mouth. Now I can buy you a new cat, but it hasn't changed anything except that I now have an opportunity to run over your new cat as well. If Aubrey had apologized, would it have made it all better?"

I didn't answer that.

"Besides, even though we knew we had committed some thing, thing, we had no idea how irrevocable our actions were. Not yet. So there was only remorse-black, clinging like tar, eating like acid. we had no idea how irrevocable our actions were. Not yet. So there was only remorse-black, clinging like tar, eating like acid.

"Meanwhile, there was the shaking of El's spirit like the keening of a banshee, as though the whole world had died. And I suppose it had. It was unbearable, that sound-a pain without end or even the hope of death to escape it. I could not watch, was unable to stand the sight of that spirit hovering over the darkness, though I couldn't block out the sound of it.

"But this was the most terrible thing of all: El had turned away." He tried to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind his ear. When it wouldn't stay put but teased along the edge of his cheek, he yanked it out with a savage pull. I stared as the patch along the side of his temple sprouted angry red dots against the white of his scalp.

"I didn't know why." He seemed not to notice the deviance of his own actions as he flicked the hair off his fingers. "I didn't understand that we had opened an unbridgeable chasm between us. All I knew was that he couldn't stand to look at us. Oh, but to know that everything is wrong with the universe, and to know that you had a part in that irrevocable drama, is just about too much for any mind to take. I had lived always for the moment-that was, after all, all there had been-and now I could see no end to it. Regret ate at me like a ravenous worm. Had I been human, I would have gone insane."

Are you sure you didn't? I remembered his strange laughter but said only, "Obviously it did end." I remembered his strange laughter but said only, "Obviously it did end."

He shrugged. "Eventually. And I might have spent only an epoch like that. But it felt like an eternity."

We walked in silence. What did one say to something like that-I'm sorry?

I had almost forgotten who I was talking to.

The demon pointed down the hill. "Look! The Frog Pond. When winter sets in, we should go ice skating there."

DESPITE MY LIMITED KNOWLEDGE of Lucifer, I couldn't picture him-her, it, whatever the devil was-sitting idle after that. When I asked Lucian about it, he shook his youthful head.

"He kept to himself and wouldn't even look at Eden. He was like a child who abandons a toy after he's broken it. What was Eden to him now? Even if it had still been perfect, it might as well have been ruined; he had set his eyes on heaven. As for us, we no more existed to him than Eden did in those days . . . those nights. It was all one night to me, those hours like years, as Lucifer raised his head to heaven and narrowed his eyes at G.o.d."

The demon squinted at the sun. "We huddled on the fringes of Lucifer's light-all the rest of the world was darkness but for him-never venturing any closer for fear of his anger or any farther away for fear of the darkness. And all the while there was that terrible, shuddering spirit of El.

"Meanwhile, Lucifer grew bolder by the day. He blasted El with sharp, serrated words. I thought for sure the Host would come for us, that El would send us away or worse, scatter us like salt over a field."

"Did you think he would obliterate you?"

The kid shrugged. "I had no concept of death, though I will say I expected something terrible. And I even thought by then that I might welcome it. But El was absorbed by grief, which only seemed to incense Lucifer."

"Why wasn't he afraid? He had been the favorite; he had the most to lose."

"Exactly. El had never ignored the voice of his favorite before. And as his silence continued, Lucifer grew more venomous. I had never seen this kind of resentment. The violence of our uprising seemed like children's quarrels by comparison."

Children's quarrels? The horrible face of the seraph in my dream hovered before me. The horrible face of the seraph in my dream hovered before me.

"Lucifer ranted and stalked. And we trailed him like ermine on the train of a king. Then, just when I thought he had forgotten us, El broke his silence."

We were nearing Charles Street. What happened next was something I would replay over and over in my mind for weeks. A woman jogger was running toward us. She was all blonde hair and black running pants, a hot pink iPod strapped to her arm. I thought with some irony that this was the extent of my social life of late: appreciation of women going the other way.

a.s.suming, of course, that they were not demons in bookstores.

Just as she was about to pa.s.s us, Lucian tripped, his hand grabbing at my shoulder as he practically fell into the woman's path. It was such a queer incident; I had never seen him anything other than fully composed. The startled jogger, for her part, managed to skirt him just in time to avoid a collision that might have kneecapped her, and Lucian escaped the fall, thanks to his pulling at my shoulder which nearly took me down with him. As I stumbled, shoving the demon's hand away, I saw alarm and confusion on the woman's face. But, as we more or less righted ourselves, she seemed to decide that Lucian was neither an attacker nor injured, and she ran on.

Lucian stared after her with slatted eyes. He murmured something under his breath.

"What was that about?" I demanded. It was bad enough that he looked like a punk. Did he have to act like one, too?

"You wanted her."

It was close enough to the truth to shut me up.

I would come back again and again to this interchange, would remember that narrowed look on Lucian's face for weeks and months to come.

OUTSIDE THE GATE OF the Garden, a bearded man played an electric guitar. It was plugged into an amp, and now I realized the source of the music we had heard from the Commons softball field. As we crossed Charles Street, I asked, "What kind of special curse does one reserve for someone who has ruined everything?"

"We're talking about Lucifer, not Aubrey. And El didn't curse Lucifer." He pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket.

It was bizarre, seeing him light up. It was the first time I had actually seen him ingest anything.

"He didn't strike us down, either."

"So what did he do?"

"He drew breath." He exhaled a stream of smoke that drifted before and then over us, diffusing like ectoplasm. "And with that inaugural sound we, with keen immortal perception, knew that something was about to happen. Something different. different."

"How could you tell?"

"How can I explain this?" He kicked a Dunkin' Donuts cup, an escapee from a nearby trash bin. "It was a pregnant sound. Expectant, like a hesitation on the verge of speech. It vibrated throughout the universe like the tight pulse of a tuning fork." He flicked his fingers, sending a ripple of invisible energy into the air and a spatter of ash toward the ground.

We veered down a small path toward roped-off flowerbeds and domed shrubs. I thought back to my nightmare, to the vision of the newly fallen drifting away, fading into the residue of sleep. I didn't know what happened next. I had to know. I was jonesing, pure and simple. I stopped. "Show me."

His brows rose, as though he were waiting for a punch line.

"Show me," I said again.

He pulled the cigarette from between his lips and flicked it away. "I will never understand humans," he said and then grabbed me by the upper arm.

My experience the night before had been birthed into the warm vessel of sleep. But this was an electrifying jolt, like the first chug of a roller coaster on a track. Just as I felt I had reached the apex of that first hill, the universe unfurled before me, as though I were standing in the narrow part of a funnel looking out toward the opening of everything. everything. I was aware of the vastness of it, the infinite amplifications of s.p.a.ce before me, the stars. And I knew, somehow, that each of them had a name known to El. I was aware of the vastness of it, the infinite amplifications of s.p.a.ce before me, the stars. And I knew, somehow, that each of them had a name known to El.

There was Eden. When I dreamed it-no, when I saw saw it-the darkness had been a moving thing, a living tar creeping across the rocks and flas.h.i.+ng stones. It was as black now as a shroud, vacant as an eye in a corpse's head. I heard a sound like a sob and recognized my own voice. Eden, infused with sorrow, stood ruined, a monument of grief covered by a dark and terrible presence trembling on the water. it-the darkness had been a moving thing, a living tar creeping across the rocks and flas.h.i.+ng stones. It was as black now as a shroud, vacant as an eye in a corpse's head. I heard a sound like a sob and recognized my own voice. Eden, infused with sorrow, stood ruined, a monument of grief covered by a dark and terrible presence trembling on the water.

The spirit of El himself.

I pulled away, unable to endure another moment of it, and doubled over on the lawn, sucking breath.

"Did you hear it? The keening?" the demon asked from above me.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Human ears," he said, the way a debutante might dismiss a bottle blonde.

"What did I miss?"

"Didn't you see the s.h.i.+fting over the water?"

I shook my head.

"Did you see anything?"

"Dark Eden. And s.p.a.ce."

He rolled his eyes. "What you missed, my dear"-the words were thoroughly odd coming from him in this getup- "was the sense of his hands. El's. Covering the vast wreck of the world the way a sculptor's fingers roam a block of marble, carving with the inner eye before touching the chisel. You missed that sense of him moving over the surface of the deep, as though there was no memory of Lucifer's cherished garden, ruined beneath the chaos of violence like an insect trapped in amber. You missed that this was no longer a ruined Eden but an Eden roiling with the potential for a new thing. And you missed when he spoke."

I regretted having pulled away so quickly from the vision, though I knew he would not have allowed me to see this far.

"Spoke?"

"He called for light."

"As in, 'Let there be light'?"

"As in."

"'Let there be light.' You're telling me it actually started that way," I said, my hands on my knees.

"Actually, we weren't sure what was happening. All I knew then was that upon hearing that voice-that beloved and awesome timbre-I wanted to weep. Only then did I realize how much I had longed for it, how strong and rea.s.suring it was to the fibers of my heart. And, because of what we had done, how foreboding."

"I thought you said there had already been light. That Lucifer gave off light."

"This was new light-different from that of my master," he said, gazing past the footbridge toward the statue of Was.h.i.+ngton. High-rises jutted up like teeth into the sky beyond the statue. "And light, as you know, is many things. Energy, for one."