The Department of Hate - A Love Story (4 page)

"You said almost all go into the Pit, so who doesn
’t, who gets into heaven?" Abaddon was again furious at being questioned like this. But Jarrod was looking at him and clearly expected him to reply. He snarled back

"Just the Christians - and not too many of them."
Cassandra was astonished by this.

"That's crazy."
Abaddon sneered at her

"Being in an exclusive club has to have its rewards
." Cassandra replied to him

"But I'm not a Christian."
Abaddon smiled at her smugly and pointed at the Pit

"Well then, one day sooner or later ..."
Cassandra snapped back at him

"Fuck you
." Abaddon replied quickly and cynically

"Any time
darling – and sooner than you might think." Cassandra continued to glare at him. But Abaddon could see that the Master disapproved. He turned away and continued walking on. 

Abaddon led them through the streets to one of the larger buildings and then in through a side entrance. They went down a hallway and then into a large apartment.  Jarrod looked around. It was very plain - a large mostly empty room with just a few pieces of furniture – sofa, chairs, table. There were no decorations, no personal items. The walls were bare. There were no windows. There were a few other rooms leading off from the main one.  Abaddon announced

“This building is
the Department of Hate my Lord and these are your private quarters.” Jarrod looked puzzled.

“We’re like humans then?  We eat? We sleep?”
Abaddon shrugged

“More or less my Lord
.” Cassandra stood by, silently, looking around. Apartments usually said something about their occupants. This place said nothing. She had also noticed how easily Jarrod had used the phrase
‘We’re like humans ’.
  He seemed to be adapting so quickly - even readily.  She liked him. She admired and clearly needed his steadfastness. But there was something increasingly disturbing about his far too easy acceptance of it all.

Jarrod was determined to sort out some basic facts. He continued to question Abaddon.

“Do we have day and night - the same calendar?”
  Abaddon replied

“Yes my Lord
.”  Jarrod thought about this, they were taken Friday night - but then the time of day had changed just outside the gate

“So what time is it? What day, e
xactly?”  Abaddon replied, forcing himself to be patient - as always – though with no real choice in the matter

“It's Saturday, my Lord - nine in the morning. As you can see it gets very hot down here very quickly. The nights are very cold though
." Jarrod really was amazed

“I thought Hell was supposed to be permanently hot?”
Abaddon grimaced

“The pit is hot enough my Lord
.” Jarrod replied soberly

“I'm sure it is. This department ... what do we actually do?”
Abaddon paused before replying.

“It seems strange to be telling you all of this. After all of your previous incarnations you reverted instantly.”
  Then he recovered himself quickly, hiding his sudden flash of fear. He hadn’t used the required honorific. Retaliation could be swift and terrible. "But you will soon be yourself my Lord.”  Jarrod was still waiting, he prompted

“And the department?”
  Abaddon continued quickly

“Yes my Lord, you wrote the
new mission statement yourself - our primary goal is to ferment hatred and discord, to contribute to the misery, wretchedness and ultimate damnation of all mankind. As you have often pointed out it's too easy. They do most of it by themselves.” Jarrod thought about this

“So we’re all out and out bastards then?”
  Abaddon replied to this eagerly

“Yes my Lord we most certainly are. The last thirty three years while you’ve been up there have been spectacular. As you know we’re coming to the end times.”
Jarrod smiled sadly at this all too apt micro summary of recent history. He didn’t know anything explicit about the end times – though of course there was no shortage of apocalyptic and messianic cults, possibly more now than ever before. He was still thinking it through, trying to make sense of it. It was all so strangely and disturbingly familiar. He asked

“Yo
u said something about Lucifer?” Abaddon cringed

“Yes my Lord, His Holiness, the Lord of Darkness hasn’t been seen for twenty years. He’s said to be waiting for your return. I always thought that your last incarnation was part of the plan?”
  His intonation indicated the implied question at the end. But Jarrod was growing tired of him. He decided to assert his authority

“We’ll see about that. All right, you can go now.”
Abaddon moved back and bowed.

“Yes my Lord.” Then after a brief
pause he said.  “My Lord, We’re having a feast tonight, in your honour - in the Great Hall. Lord Belial has organised a few dog fights for your entertainment. Would you care to attend?  We’ll start about nine.”  Jarrod replied

“Yes certainly
.” He needed to find out everything he could. He wondered briefly what kind of fights they would be, but then thought that he probably didn’t want to know.  Abaddon bowed deeply

“I’ll come by and pick you up my Lord.”
  He couldn’t stop himself from briefly glaring at Cassandra, and then he turned and left the apartment. He looked like he couldn’t get out quickly enough.

Jarrod turned to Cassandra. He was wondering how she felt about all this, what her thoughts were. He said to her

“What a grovelling little weasel
.” They both laughed. Jarrod intoned

“My Lord this, my Lord that – for fucks sake, he should give it a rest.”
They continued laughing for a while but then stopped.  Jarrod was shaking his head.

“This is a truly horrible place. How can we possibly be here?”
There was no immediate answer to that. Cassandra said

“And they’re all shit scared of you.”
Jarrod laughed again

“So it would seem. The ninth incarnation of Beelzebub! The second biggest bastard in all of creation
!”  He found it hilarious - he started laughing. But Cassandra stopped him, her mood suddenly more sombre

“It's not funny. Soon you’ll be like them.”
Jarrod was instantly serious

“No. I won't. Not ever. Whatever I was then – now, I am who I am. I’m not changing into someone or something else. They are mistaken about that.  Who I am does not include fermenting hatred and discord and lording it over the lost and the damned – and never will. We’re going to leave this place. Somehow!  And while we’re stuck here I will protect you.”
Cassandra seemed reassured. She replied simply

“Thank you".

She leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Jarrod was clearly a good man. How could he also be Beelzebub? They all seemed to think he was but it was impossible to understand. She could see that his infatuation with her had only increased.  She did not really have any great feeling for him beyond that initial favourable impression. This already seemed to be from a lifetime ago. She smiled sadly. Strictly speaking it was. But in any case from a purely practical point of view if you had to be in this terrible place it couldn’t hurt to be under the protection of one of its major lords. But then if he reverted she wouldn’t be. She was not happy with herself for making such obviously utilitarian calculations. This was not the kind of person she wanted to be. Jarrod was all right, she had no desire to use him or deceive him.  Finally she faded into a shallow sleep. Her mind kept replaying recent scenes and events – over and over - but none more often than the terrible image of the pit and the unending stream of the damned pouring down into it. She twisted and turned. She knew beyond all doubt that down here sooner or later she would encounter the gnome. She cried out in her sleep.

Jarrod watched her sleeping. He’d met her only a fe
w hours ago really. His love at first sight had only grown deeper. He could see even more clearly now that she had in abundance those essential though hard to define qualities of grace under fire and courage along with an all too rare basic kindness and empathy. He could also see a fiery determination and combativeness that would no doubt be very useful especially now.  She was tough and she was sharp. And of course as she lay there sleeping she was still and always would be breathtakingly beautiful. It raised the obvious question though. What was she doing here?  He was beginning to suspect you didn’t have to do much to be damned. Perhaps she had not bowed and scraped deeply enough. Jarrod had never believed in God or an afterlife – well, not since he was seven years old and Father Menzies had run away screaming from his own church. Though of course from where they were now it was very difficult to continue with those particular denials. So maybe there was an all powerful creator – a vain and tedious little thing – demanding obedience and servitude, craving worship and devotion. Absolutely intolerant of dissent!  The slightest whiff of non-compliance and wham, bam - burn forever. So the afterlife like life itself had nothing to do with justice but was all about raw power – here at least without the deep all pervading layers of deception and hypocrisy. But why this place at all? Why weren’t the demons also simply cast into the pit? Why the Pit? Why not simply erase or delete completely those found unworthy – or did this unknown and sadistic God simply enjoy watching them suffer, and suffer forever at that? He looked at Cassandra and sighed. None of it mattered. Somehow he would save her from all of this, and save himself. They would find a life. He would lay low, find out the rules and come up with a plan. Was it possible they could both get back to Earth?  It must be, and if it was nothing would stop him.

He walked around the apartment checking the other rooms - two bedrooms, a bathroom and a study. The study was full of old books and scrolls, stacked loosely, floor to ceiling.  Somehow his attention was drawn to several books on one of the middle shelves. They didn’t stand out in any obvious way – but there was something about them. He seemed to recall them as if from some kind of dream. He took them from the shelf and spread them out on the large desk in the centre of the room. The books were histories.
‘A history of the revolt against the heavens’
by Lord Beelzebub
,  ‘A history of earliest times’
by Lord Belial and 
‘A history of the great battle – or how we were betrayed’
by His Holiness, Lord Lucifer,  the Satan. They referred of course to the great battle at the dawn of time when Lucifer led his forces against the Creator in an attempt to destroy him and replace him. Jarrod shuddered to think that if he was Beelzebub then he himself had taken part in this primordial assault – and, being defeated, had been cast down here for all of eternity. He glanced through the histories. There was a fourth book, very ancient – he couldn’t make out the name of the author. In it there were many underlined sentences and marginal notes which must have been his own. He noticed several heavily underlined references to something called the Reflectant device or the Reflectant principle - something defensive and very powerful. There was a marginal note where he referred to it as God’s fist.  It tickled his memory. It was something important!  Part of some plan! Flipping through the papers he stopped suddenly. One of the papers had a picture – or a drawing – of the same ugly little gnome he’d seen at Waterloo station.  The figure was smirking at him - asking to be remembered. For the first time since all of this started Jarrod felt a harsh stab of fear.  He really had no idea what was going on and it might not end at all well. The concept of God’s fist was not a particularly encouraging one.

Chapter 4 – I need a man

Cassandra was in the spa bath with another young woman, Adrienne. They were lying together naked, relaxing after many long and luxurious hours of love making. Adrienne was experienced and skilful but Cassandra’s raw energy and spontaneity sometimes overwhelmed her. Adrienne was slightly taller than Cassandra, very fit, and sleekly muscled, with short black hair. She was a kickboxing instructor, and at twenty-five had gone back to University to study for a law degree which she had now almost completed. She and Cassandra met just over a year ago and hit it off immediately. Cassandra loved Adrienne’s quiet intensity along with her sometimes barely suppressed rage, she loved her ambition and her drive - but was also beginning to find it all a bit too much. Nevertheless she cuddled into her as Adrienne kissed her softly and caressed her gently.  Adrienne tried to smile as she asked

“Do you really have to go to London tonight?
”  Cassandra was weary of the question

“Yes I do. I want to.“ 
Adrienne knew she shouldn’t but pressed on

“Why?”
Cassandra could hardly bother answering

“I’ve told you before. I want to see my cousin in Brighton. And  ... I just want to get away for a while
.” Adrienne responded more harshly than she intended

“Away from me?”
Cassandra hugged her

“No darling, it’s not that.”
But they both knew that that was exactly what it was.

They got out of the bath, helped dry each other off, dressed quickly in some loose fitting robes and moved on into the living room.  They sat on the couch. Their thirteenth floor apartment was in a building on Walker Street in North Sydney – with a wonderful view of Sydney harbour. It was very early in the evening on a Monday, still light. Far below, across the harbour, they could see the one of the ferries pulling out of Circular Quay and starting to make its way across to Manly. They sat slightly apart – almost awkwardly, given the intimacies just shared.  Adrienne stared at Cassandra – forlornly – which wasn’t like her. She said

“I don’t know why you’re leaving.  I love you. You know that
.” Cassandra replied quietly

“I’m not leaving, it’s just a holiday.”
But Adrienne stared at her bleakly

“Yes you are.”
Cassandra didn’t really know what she intended and couldn’t give an honest answer. So she didn’t reply at all.   Adrienne reached for her but Cassandra stood up.

“I better get dressed. I need to get going. The flight leaves at eleven tonight.”
Adrienne tried one last time

“Why not stay a bit longer?”
But Cassandra had gone into the bedroom and was getting dressed. When she came out she was dressed in jeans and a jumper. It was quite cold out. It was July, middle of winter. She was looking forward to landing in London in the middle of summer – a pleasant transition. She intended to spend a few days looking around before she headed down to Brighton. She looked at Adrienne

“I have to get there early; you know what it’s like now.”
Adrienne knew when to stop.

“All right, sure.  Wait a moment, and I’ll walk you down to the station.”
Cassandra waited while this time Adrienne went into the bedroom to dress, emerging moments later in jeans and a jacket. She looked quite formidable as always - but she certainly didn’t feel that way. She would be lost without Cassandra.

The two women walked down Walker Street and around the corner into Blue Street and then into North Sydney railway station. They held hands. Cassandra was wheeling a small suitcase. Adrienne was determined to end this as brightly and as happily as she could.  She wanted for Cassandra nothing but happiness.  She joked with her

“I know what you want to do in London. You want to find a man.”
Cassandra raised her eyebrows and with a smile replied

“Well, I just might.”
  Adrienne laughed back at her

“Ugh, why would you want to do that, stupid vile creatures, sordid and pathetic.”
Cassandra replied quickly

“No they’re not, well, not all of them.”
But she was thinking to herself

‘Maybe I do, I want something .... It’s not such a crazy idea’
. Adrienne wouldn’t let it go, continuing playfully

“Show m
e a man who is more than just a walking penis!” Cassandra considered it then laughed

“That’s not completely fair.”
  Adrienne laughed back.

“See what I mean. You hesitated. You know it’s true.”
They reached the station.  They hugged each other.  They kissed for a short time. Cassandra turned to go into the station.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks
.” Adrienne watched her intently, and said quietly

“Sure, see you then
.” Then Cassandra was gone, around the corner into the station.  Somehow Adrienne knew that she would never see her again – and her eyes filled with tears.

Adrienne turned back into Blue Street and started back to her apartment.  It was a long uphill walk. She thought of the many months of happiness she’d had with Cassandra. She smiled remembering the circumstances of their first meeting. Cassandra and her friend Marianne had arrived at her kick boxing club in the city, wanting to start training. Adrienne was teaching the beginners class that night. She watched them both carefully. Marianne was the sweetest person Adrienne had ever come across – smiling all the time, friendly, bubbling over with happiness. Adrienne didn’t think she’d keep on with the kick boxing – why would she even want to? Sure enough Marianne didn’t come back again. Cassandra though was altogether different.  She had no idea what she was doing and was quite clumsy but Adrienne could sense in her an underlying drive, determination and ferocity that was almost frightening.  Cassandra kept coming back, they became friends. After only a month she went with Cassandra and Marianne on a trip to Europe including a rather strange stopover in Amsterdam. Not long after that she and Cassandra moved in together. Almost a year ago now! It had all passed so quickly.  And how could she forget their experiences together at Madame Zelda’s House of Pain. That was something else. She finally made it to her building, made her way up the elevator and on into her apartment slamming the door behind her.  She poured a glass of wine and sank onto her couch – closing her eyes, feeling very sad.

She jumped up when she heard a sound just in front of her, and dropped into a combat stance.  Standing in the middle of the room there was a short ugly gnome like man with a permanent sneer plastered across his face.  He was between her and the door. She had no idea where he had come from or how he had got in. He leered at her

“Hi’ya sweet cheeks. How about a blow job?”
  She was simply astonished, replying only

“What?”
  The gnome continued to leer at her

“Oh come on, you might even enjoy it, I know I will.”
Coming to her senses she stared back at him harshly

“Fuck off you little turd!”
The gnome was not surprised by this. With an evil smile he continued

“Ah, playing hard to get, I like that
.” She lowered further into her fighting stance, centring herself, getting ready to fight.  But the gnome closed in on her with supernatural speed, punching her hard in the stomach.  As she doubled over he smashed her in the side of her head with his closed fist, knocking her to the ground.  He jumped on top of her and started repeatedly bashing her on one side of her head and then the other.  Barely conscious she tried to struggle as much as she could, but he was impossibly strong and he just kept smashing into her again and again. Even when she was unconscious the gnome kept hitting her. He enjoyed it. This continued for some time. Finally the gnome went into the kitchen and returned with a large carving knife. He killed her by cutting her throat with it.

Standing up, he threw away the knife and wiped the blood off his shirt. He stared down at her, saying out loud

“We can’t have you going off to London after our girl. And you would have.”
After that he looked around anxiously. Normally they weren’t allowed to intervene so directly. He waited.  But nothing happened.  The gnome gloated, saying to himself

“Well, the master is right as always, no-one is watching any more. The old rules no longer apply
.” He jumped up and out through the closed window – passing through the glass without breaking it, mumbling to himself

“So much to do, so little time.”