I, Lucifer: Finally, the Other Side of the Story (35 page)

Here ends the writing of my brother, Lucifer, and here I begin the
fulfilment of my duty.

Too formal, Raphael. His voice even nou' finds time for
admonishment. Try not to sound like such a tight-arsed ponce.

I can't help smiling. He must be busy, but still he finds the time
to criticize my style. Well, I must try to oblige him.

I interrupted his last sentence. Despite everything he'd said on
Hydra I couldn't let him confront his dilemma alone. I came back
to England on a flight that had to skirt thunderstorms all the way
to Heathrow. Thunderstorms everywhere, according to the co-pilot;
a phenomenon. My fellow passengers' fear of death filled the
cabin like smoke from a smouldering fire. God didn't have His
hand over us, but the pilot was skilful, and brought us down in
safety. I took a taxi straight to the Clerkenwell flat. Sheet lightning flickered.

`Oh,' he said. `Look, I'm busy'

`You have a decision to make,' I said to him. He didn't look well.
His colour was bad, sallow, and his right eye was blackened. A scatter of pimples around the corners of his mouth. `You've been abusing
your host,' I said to him. `You can't get away with that sort of thing
indefinitely, you know, my dear.'

`We're back to the "my dear" are we? Look, Raphael, I know
you mean well but -'

`What are you going to do?'

`What?'

`You heard me,' I said - I know him enough to know the tone he
best responds to. `What are you going to do? Are you going to stay,
or are you going to go?'

He placed his hands together at the base of his spine and straightened his back, the way pregnant women do.

Better, cloth-head. Now you're getting the hang of it.
That smouldering fire simile was lame, though.

`I'm going to run a bath, that's what I'm going to do,' he said.
`A huge, deep, hot bath. Feel free to watch if you like, although this
Gunn 's not much to shout about in the cock and balls department.
Then again, as my dear XXX-Quisite Immaculata says, with the
frequency of a mantra: "Iss wha' joo doo with it. Thass what
counts".'

I waited half an hour, taking stock, meanwhile, of the condition of the flat. His inhabitancy, sporadic though it had been, had devastated the place: litter, broken bottles, dirty laundry, spilled food,
manuscript pages, overloaded ashtrays, the kitchen bin overturned,
not a dish washed ... Who could be in the least surprised? How
art thou fallen from Heaven, 0 Lucifer, Son of the morning -

Er ... Excuse me ...

But I was wasting time. Worse, I was pandering to his wasting
time. In less than f ve hours lie would have to decide. In less than
five hours they'd come for his answer. This was no time for idling in
the bathtub. With a cursory knock, I entered.

'Couldn't keep away, could you? Thought you'd catch me at it,
did you? Having a bit of a bathtime tube?'

He must have just added more hot water, because the tiny room was
filled with steam. `Well, as you can see, here I am chastely bathing
and sensibly reflecting. Close the door will you, for Baal'c sake.'

He was in fact smoking a cigar (not steam, smoke) and cradling
in his palm a huge brandy balloon amply furnished with the golden
liquor. There didn't seem to be any sign of either chaste bathing or
sensible reflection. He looked, as a matter of fact, like he'd just been
woken from a nap.

`There are prostitutes on your gland of an island, I take it?' lie
said, swallowing a large mouthful. 'I mean I would, in theory, be
able to, you know, socialize with members of the opposite sex?'

'Not of the calibre it seems you're used to,' I said. 'But yes, of
course - and if not on Hydra then on Spetses, certainly in Aegina.'

`Certainly in Aegina,' he said. `Sounds like some fucking
Lawrence Durrell poem.'

`I'm to take it from the profanities and the erratic observations
that you're drunk,' I said, feeling, I must confess, desperately angry
with him.

`Liquid sanity,' he said, raising the balloon in a cheers.

'Liquid cowardice,' I said. 'Can't you see that time's running out
for you?'

`Time's overrated,' he said. `Money, on the other hand . .

I sighed and took a precarious seat on the edge of the tub.

`It's generally recommended that one undresses before getting in,'
he said.

I ran a hand over my face. (Mandros's hands are sensitive, and
store the memory of many things.) Tiredness - a deep tiredness of
the hones and nerves - crept up from my feet. His wilful avoidance
was like a separate entity in the room with us, draining my strength.
`Lucifer,' I said. `For love and life please listen to me. You must stay.
Whether with me or alone or with someone else. Don't you see you
can't go back? Haven't you understood that it's so soon going to be
over? That you'll ... That you'll be ...'

`Yes,' he said, slowly, and seemingly with genuine seriousness.
`Yes, my dear, I have understood everything. As always, I have
understood everything. Now perhaps, if you could . . . the Swan
Vest as there . . . I seem to have self-extinguished ...'

`Lucifer!'

`Hmm?'

`Do you want to spend eternity in the Hell of Nothingness?'

`Of course I don't want to spend - Ow! Fuck! Fuck fuck Fuck
FUCK!'

The loss of temper had had him scrabbling to get upright; a slip,
and he had conked his head on the back of the tub. He lost a good
deal of the balloon's brandy, and the cigar altogether. Jesus Christ,
Jesus Christ, Jesus fucking cunting Christ.'

(It pains me, obviously, even to type that - but I promised a
faithful rendering.) I helped him into a better sitting position - but
he wouldn't relinquish his glass. `And don't think you can fool me
by pretending you're fishing for the cigar, either, Mr Mandros,' he
said, squinting from the blow to his head.

`This is utterly absurd,' I said.

He looked at me for a moment in silence before saying, with a
compressed grin: `Yes, I'm afraid it is, my dear.'

It seemed the knock on the head had sobered him. He placed the
stem of the glass on the tubs rim with some care. It was then that I
noticed the razor blades, all but one still in the unwrapped pack, this
one within a little outline of rust.

`Not mine,' he said. 'Gunn's. He was going to slash these.' He
held his wrists up for me to see. `Not an option I'd have all alone
in Nothingness. Not a rope to hang myself with nor a pot to piss in.'

`Quite,' I said. 'I hope this means you're finally beginning to see
sense.'

`What did occur to me,' he said, 'was that if God were to go
ahead and get rid of everything except little old me, I'd be in exactly
the position He was at the beginning. I'd he Him. Rich, don't you
think? Lucifer ends up where God started.'

`It wouldn't be the same and you know it.'

'How not?'

'Because you can't create anything,' I said.

And that, I believe, was the closest the world came. A few
moments in the wake of those words in which - I could feel his
capitulation like a great tilted ghost on the ether - I believe he would
have turned. If the words for which he opened his mouth had ever
been uttered.

But they were not.

It was a measurement of how much of my angelic nature yet
remained, that I felt the approaching presence of one of the Firstborn
seconds before it tore through. Lucifer, too, knew. The walls shuddered and the bathroom's minute window cracked; a peculiar,
dissonant articulation from the building's joists and hinges, a tightening of the room's smoke into a queer little knot - then he was
through, and the material world flowed evenly once more.

'Nelkers!' Lucifer cried, smiling broadly and raising a hand in
welcome. 'By gum lad it's good to see you -'

`My Lord, I must -'

'As a matter of fact I'd like you to take a look at -'

'My Lord please! Listen!'

`Dear God in Hammersmith child what's the matter with you?'

`It's war my Lord.'

The four words nailed a small silence into place. Nelchael and I
hadn't seen each other since the Fall. (Daily, my angelic sight
diminishes, but at that hour the cataracts of human vision were
gauzy still.) His presence wasn't pleasant for ine - but it was horribly fascinating to see the state - carious, putrid, bleeding and
exuding an impossible reek of corruption - of his angelic being. I
could see that even in his state - manifestly come straight from the
din and fire of battle - he was astonished to find another exFirstborn (an unFallen one at that) at his master's side.

Lucifergot to his feet. 'Astaroth,' he said. 'I knew it. What's lie
done?'

'No my Lord, not Astaroth. Astaroth f glits loyally for the preservation of your sovereignty -'

'Then wh-'

'Uriel.'

In the moment of silence that followed, the sink gurgled, jovially.

'Uriel?'

`With renegades from Heaven, my Lord. Fully half of Hell is
now under his command!'

`Lucifer, let it go,' I said. 'Don't you see that this releases you?
Don't you see His will at work?'

But his eyes were alight with aflame that didn't belong in the
human realm. 'Fuck,' he said. 'Double-crossiii'... mother ... He
was supposed to . . . He was supposed to wait until ...'

'He came with half of Heaven under his banner, my Lord.'

'Well, that was all we could get. Jesus Jehosophat Christ.'

'And told us that if we joined him we would have might enough
for a new assault on Paradise.'

'And he told you the truth, Nelkers. Now here's a pretty pickle.'

'Oh no,' I said. 'Olt no, no, no.'

Lucifer turned to inc and ,grimied. He had fished out his cigar
and slotted it, dripping, between his teeth. Bath fitain,glint►nered on
his head and lours.

'Started without rtre,' he said. 'Can you - I mean can you
believe the chutzpah?'

'Lucifer stop. Please, stop and think.'

'He told its, rrry Lord,' Xelchael continued in a lowered voice
(and without rnanvgirrg to conceal a glance at his masters strange
corporeal dress), 'that you had ... that you had . . . forgave ►ne,
Sire, but he told its that you had deserted Hell to lire as a
mortal!'

'Do you know; .Aelkers,' Lucifi'r said, scratching his head and
sucking uselessly on the sodden cigar, 'it did used to be said that
there was honour among thieves.'

He had,c'ot to his feet to receive ?\elchael. Noly, sntiluiE', Its laid
himself ,c ently back in the tub. (I've thouE'llt of this, since, that he
laid the body down as one mil ht the corpse of a beloved friend.)
,ti'elchacl, sccilll' his master apparently readyil~ himself.for sleep,
misunderstood. '.lly Lord, 1 bei' you, you must return and order the
defence of your -'

'Relax, ."v'elks,' he said. 'Go. Depart. I'mish. I'll be at your
heels in less New I'itne than it takes to boil an t,gg. Icll thefaith-fit/ ol'Hell that Lucifer is corning and that I'riel will bow No trees
nunpaign will succeed under him. I'll lead the attack myself. I give
you iiiy ... II;'II, _just tell them that.:v'ow,go.,

It hat else is there to say? ('seless entreaties. I'm air,gel enou.glr yet
to recoiiui'itable motiolrs When I see them.

So-for a_f('n' IIIollit'lits IN(' eyed each other in silence. I could have
been mistaken but I thou,t'ht his hands trembled a little.

'Ybu did consider it, didn't you,' I said. 'You can't deny, now, to
►ny,face, that you considered it. Lucifer?'

'Finish my book,' he said, sn'allon'i►nE' the last mouthful of cognac and smacking his lips. `So that what little of posterity there may be
left ...'

`This is the second time I've lost you -' I began - but he closed
his eyes.

`No time for speeches. Super hols. Had a lovely time. Be seeing
you.,

`God be with you,' I said, reflexively, forgetting. At which the
eyes opened again, for a moment, in glittering accompaniment to the
sudden and ravenous grin.

`Do me a fucking favour,' he said - then went.

I watched the body slacken as his spirit departed. The shoulders
sagged, the bowels released a long and noisome fart, which bubbled
up through the water as if in announcement of the kraken. The
brandy balloon dropped from the lifeless hand; a cheap rug by the
tub; it didn't break. Thunder boomed and rolled

Try `like celestial pianos tumbling down Heaven's stairs .. '

In the quiet that followed, the steady breathing of Gunn's deep
sleep.

I gathered the papers together and added these notes of my own.
Nothing else remains. I shall never see him again.

Except, perhaps, if I'm human enough. Except, perhaps, if
there's world enough and time.

Postscript, 18 October 2001

3.00 p.m.

Simplest if I stay out of it, I think. What is there to say?
You're holding it in your hands, aren't you?

I got four phone messages that day. The first was from Violet.

'Declan for heaven's sake where are you? I've been trying
and trying. Why didn't you tell me lie was going to be there?
For God's sake why'd you dash off with that chap in the suit?
Who is he, by the way? Is he someone? Someone else? I love
Trent. So much ... energy, you know? But is Harriet ...
well ...? She seems ... Anyway the point is both of them
couldn't stop saying how much they loved the script. I don't
know why the fuck you didn't do this years ago. They want
us to go out to LA. You, anyway, but I mean they are going
to screen test me in any case ..