Hell, p.32
Hell, page 32
“Are you sure you’re okay Tatiana?” Hod asked.
Was she okay? Pain was little more than an abstract concept to her at the moment, vaguely troubling were the bite marks on her shoulder, otherwise no complaints.
“Yes, I’m fine, a little shaken up…”
“Of course she’s fine,” Malkuth interrupted. “After all, she’s an angel,” she continued in a bitingly sarcastic tone before dropping her voice. “An angel of death…”
Tiphareth loudly cleared her throat and Malkuth grudgingly backed off, joining Chokmah and Geburah’s conversation. She leaned over and whispered in Tat’s ear behind an obscuring hand.
“A lovely creature is she not? A vision of perfection. There are men who would kill to possess her, who have in fact, but she’s all mine. And up until quite recently, I was all hers. She has seen you as one who will plunder all that she has built, all that we have achieved. She feels threatened by you... and with good reason.” As Tat listened with mounting unease, Malkuth kept shooting her glances fraught with hostility, as if knowing she’d already lost.
“I’m so sorry Hod, some angel I turned out to be.” Tat muttered, feeling acutely ashamed by Malkuth’s words, desperate to break the tension and divert Tiphareth’s attention.
“Tatiana stop,” Hod firmly rebuked her. “You did great, you faced her and fought her. In hindsight, it was nearly an optimal outcome, given the situation.”
“But not truly optimal, or the Beast would’ve been banished.” Yesod said from her seat at Malkuth’s right. A solemn mood smothering their end of the table.
Tiphareth sighed, keeping her voice down, “Did we really think it would be so easy? No, the contract must be fulfilled.”
“What contract?” Tat asked, this was the second time she’d heard it mentioned.
All conversation at the table stopped, as if she’d asked the wrong question at the worst time.
“Well, should we tell her?” Tiphareth asked.
Chokmah piped up, “Absolutely not! Kether is too close, she’ll hear.”
“Well, let her hear,” Malkuth harshly whispered. “She already knows the story.”
“I agree, I want the truth to be spoken here. If only for my own conscience.” Yesod seconded, offering nothing further. Here Malkuth again took up the thread.
“Kether is to blame for all of this...”
“Malkuth, stop. I’m the closest to her, if it must be told, let me begin,” Chokmah commanded, addressing Tat for the first time since their first meeting. “First you must understand why she did what she did. Try not to judge her too harshly. Kether is not long for this world… we… found a lump in her breast.” Her piercing, coal-black eyes, clouding with sorrow. An awkward silence descended over them and, as one, they all turned to look to where Kether was directing foot traffic to the last few available seats. “Someone else can tell the rest.” Chokmah said, tears welling up in her eyes.
A fragment of memory surfaced then, interrupting Tat’s immediate reaction to this terrible news.
No matter how bad you think you have it...
“Needless to say, when we found out we all wanted to do whatever we could to find a way to help her defeat death itself, but she went too far,” Geburah spoke up for the first time. “Yetzirah is teeming with all manner of beings, representing the entire spectrum of morality and motivation.”
When she looked up to ascertain that Kether was still occupied, Binah jumped in. “Long story short, she encountered a consciousness that claimed knowledge of how to cure all known human maladies.”
Tat was astounded, “And she believed that?”
Malkuth let out a terse laugh, “Thank you, Seldeen, thank you,” she said, giving a petite clap. “Yes, she believed it. But the Beast had terms, it’s help did not come cheaply.”
With mounting horror, Tat began to understand what was going on here. “So she offered up Netzach…”
“No, you don’t understand, not just Netzach, she offered up us all,” Yesod said, eager to take up the narrative herself, dying to deliver the final piece of evidence to rest the prosecution’s case. “Whoever it was strong enough to take. We all work in Yetzirah everyday, it could’ve been any one of us, even you Chokmah. She entered into the contract willingly, it could have a real body in Assiah, to do with as it pleases, in return for the cure.”
“But, what if Kether dies?” Tat asked.
“Then so dies the Beast, and so dies Netzach.” Malkuth finished.
Presently, all the guests were seated and Kether returned to the dais to address the assemblage.
“Friends, family, foci… allow me to begin this solstice invocation with a fervent apology for that shameful display exhibited earlier…”
At this point, as if on cue, the doors were thrown open and a freshly washed and dressed Netzach crept into the room, causing Kether to falter into silence. The crowd began to murmur as the Beast made her way to her seat at the foot of their table, glaring all the while. As the loathsome creature passed behind, Tat shuddered deeply, fearing a renewed offensive, but the attack never came. She claimed her seat and immediately began to eat. Digging into the dishes nearest her with bare hands and a voracious appetite, oblivious to the fact that everyone else was waiting for Kether to finish before commencing the feast.
Kether cleared her throat and continued, “We here at the Tree of Life do not condone such disgusting behavior. At least… not in public.”
There was a ripple of laughter at this. Tat was astonished both by Kether’s ability to employ levity despite the gravity of the situation, and the crowd’s eagerness to laugh off the near-manifestation of a malicious, alien entity. Had she truly seen anything? Or had it been another vision, lacking any grounding in reality?
“I’ve never been any good at these things, those of you who attend year after year can attest to that. So, in the spirit of expedience, since I’m sure your mouths are watering as much as mine, I’ll offer a short prayer and be done with it.”
She paused, during which the only sounds that could be heard was the rattle of plates and the smacking of lips as Netzach continued to wallow in gluttony.
“I hereby invoke the four elements. Violet is the Air of Aries, rising from the raging yellow fires of Leo. Quenched by the blue-green waters of Scorpio, all returning to the Orange band of earth in Taurus.”
Kether was then joined by the rest of the sephirah, chanting in unison, many voices coalescing into one.
“Ol sonuf vaorsagi goho iad balata. Elexarpeh. Co-mananu. Tabitom. Zodekara eku zodekare, od zodameranu. Odo kikle qaa piape piamoel od vaoan.”
Eyes closed, Tat could literally feel the words break over her. Vibrations raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck, leading her nearly to the gates of slumber. Then, far too soon, it was ended. The spell broken, Kether continued on alone.
“I invoke ye angels of the celestial spheres whose dwelling lies within the invisible. Ye are the guardians of the gates of the Universe, be ye also guardians of this mystic sphere. Keep far removed the evil, the unbalanced. Strengthen and inspire us so that we may preserve unsullied this abode of the mysteries of the eternal archetype. Holy art thou, lord of the Universe. Holy art thou whom nature hath not formed. Holy art thou, vast and mighty one. Lord of light, and of darkness. Adonai Elohim Tetragrammaton…”
“Tatiana, wake up.”
She snapped awake as Hod gently shook her shoulder, summoning her away from a dream of falling. After the meal had begun in earnest and the excitement of fighting had faded, she’d found it impossible to remain awake.
“You’re sure you’re not hungry?” Hod asked, brandishing a large gravy boat as she dressed up her second, or third, plate.
“Hod, leave her alone, she’s told you several times now.” Tiphareth scolded as she daintily picked her way through an enormous salad. All through the meal, those two had been vying for her attention, needling each other with verbal jabs of varying wit and malice. It was obvious that they both physically desired her, yet Tat remained repulsed. In fact, even the sheer mechanics of such an act mystified her. She began to fervently wish for a way out of all this...
“Angel is too holy to break bread with lowly mortals such as we…” Malkuth was relentless, never missing an opportunity to vent her venom at being supplanted. It was all so tiresome, Tat wanted none of this. The whole night had been a disaster, and the worst part was that her last shot had been broken in her tussle with Netzach. That meant she had a day’s worth left hidden in her room. She had to talk to Jack…
“If you want, you could go down and sleep in my room.”
“Hod, nobody wants to sleep in your foul nest. We can all smell it, those animals you have imprisoned down there.” Tiphareth saw right through her.
“Oh, and she’d rest much easier in yours? There’s not even any room to lie down amid the squalor and refuse. A sty fit only for pigs.”
“You would know, farm girl, you’ve probably lain with them all your life. Pigs, I mean.” Continued wine consumption displaying startling prowess at loosening tongues...
Amidst Malkuth’s derisive laughter, Hod drained her glass, wiping her lips on the back of her sleeve.
“At least I don’t fuck my brother.” She muttered...
“What did you say?” Tiphareth’s voice was calm and collected, but the threat it held was unfathomably deep.
“I think you heard me.” Hod practically whispered, appearing to instantly regret her actions.
Tat, astonished, looked at Tiphareth, wondering at the truth of such a statement. Their eyes met, and for a split second she saw past the veneer of womanly confidence to the mortified girl within. But, just as quickly, the moment passed, and her unrepentant attitude joined the battle.
“He’s my half brother, we came from different wombs.” She admitted.
“But of common seed…” Hod spat, doubling down on her judgmental stance.
Tat couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she looked to the others for help. Kether’s end of the table was embroiled in a deep philosophical debate, while Yesod busied herself cleaning her sister’s filthy face with a napkin in a tender gesture. Meanwhile, Malkuth looked on, wearing a hateful grin.
Surprisingly, Tiphareth took the high ground, a tactic of which Tat did not think her capable. “It’s true. I’ve never sought to hide it, and for you to bring it out now and throw it in my face is truly despicable, Hod. The Auric I receive from him is unique in its potency. The Auric of unconditional love. Since we were children, he’s always been there for me. We’ve only ever had each other. Our parents died, Emily. We lived on the streets... for years. He kept me alive, cared for me, put me through school. Together we clawed our way out of utter destitution. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, or him for me. As long as there are no children, I see nothing wrong. It hurts no one, least of all you.”
Something about Tiphareth’s confession sounded familiar, then she made the connection. Jack had told a remarkably similar tale of him and his sister, and while Tat had been spying on the two of them, he’d called her by a certain name…
“You’re Susan!” Tat interrupted.
Tiphareth sighed, extending her hand in mock greeting. “Susannah Cabbot, a pleasure to meet you, miss Seldeen.”
No sooner had their hands touched than the air was broken by an explosion, accompanied by an enormous shattering that shook the building, stunning the gathering into shocked and expectant silence. The sound of falling glass that followed was deafening in scope. Tat was wrenched from the bosom of languorous torpor into a state of supreme agitation. A single thought leapt to the forefront of her mind, and it instantly terrified her…
Yurgis.
One and all looked to Kether, who was already on her feet, signaling for attention.
“Everyone, remain calm, nobody move. Arthyr and Grayson are well-equipped to handle the situation. Any interference on our part will only obstruct them.”
She made her way towards the doors quickly yet carefully, fear plainly showing in her constrained movements. Several burly men were conscripted to assist her in lowering the thick wooden planks into their brackets, barring any entrance.
“What’s happened?” Hod asked no one in particular.
“Sounds like the skylight in the Atrium shattered.” Geburah replied.
“But how? Why?” Tiphareth, seeking to understand this tragedy without knowing that the real tragedy was still to come; practically upon them.
“Papa…” was all Tat said.
That was when the knock came at the door. The now-familiar pattern...
Three short, three long, three short.
Kether visibly relaxed, while Tat experienced a diametrically opposed effect, each impact winding her tighter and tighter as her worst fears were realized. Yurgis’ secret knock was not one well kept, not here at least. It made sense when she realized it most likely originated with Esion and was in common practice among his circle.
If she could’ve cried out, she would’ve. As was always the case, her father’s presence, even imagined, rendered her effectively mute as Kether raised the bar and peeked her head out. She immediately recoiled, screaming as she was jerked out of the room. Before those nearest could even rise, she appeared again, this time with a pistol held to her throat.
“Nobody move! I come for what’s mine!”
Yurgis Stannek lurched into view, his hostage’s delicate, white hair gathered in a granite fist as he jerked her head back and drove her before him. “Anybody obstructs me will die! I did not come here tonight to kill, but stand ready. Sit down all of you!”
As one, everyone obeyed his command, including the sephirah, though she could see Yesod having trouble restraining Netzach, whose eyes were wide in Terror. He was heading for their table. Tat, terrified beyond the capacity for words, slumped down in her chair, drawing her knees up against her chest. This feeling was familiar to her, she was being hunted…
“Sir, I don’t know who you are, but we have nothing of yours, I can assure…” Kether argued before being silenced by a jab to the throat from the gun barrel. Captor and captive as one mounted the dais and approached the head of the table where he released Kether back into her seat, keeping his pistol cocked and ready. Then his horrible gaze fell upon where she cowered.
“Tatiana, come.”
To her surprise, Tiphareth leapt to her defense. “You say you come for that which is yours. You don’t own her, she doesn’t belong to you.” Tat couldn’t help recall her tender words from earlier; she couldn’t belong to Yurgis, for she already belonged to her…
In lieu of an answer Yurgis took aim and fired, shattering Tiphareth’s full glass, spraying them all with wine and fine glass shards, eliciting startled screams.
“I take what’s mine, now, or this one dies.” The pistol again took Kether into its sights.
“Do it, she’s as good as dead already!”
Yesod spoke up before Malkuth seized her, forcing her back into her seat. This meant that she was no longer restraining the frenzied Netzach who bounded onto the massive table, sprinting full speed towards Yurgis with murder in her eye and an inhuman cry upon her lips.
Yurgis watched her rapid approach, chuckling in genuine amusement, as ever unperturbed. At the table’s head she leapt to attack. Yurgis caught her with a crippling left cross to the face that sounded like an axe felling a tree, knocking her out of the air and into a pitiful pile, unmoving on the floor.
“Anybody else?” Yurgis gleefully asked.
Tat felt Tiphareth tug at her sleeve. She gestured over her shoulder with a nod and Tat looked to see Jack, as yet unnoticed by Yurgis, taking aim with his own pistol, waiting for the signal. Evidently waiting for her to give the signal. In response to Tiphareth’s questioning eyes, Tat shook her head an emphatic no, that would only lead to much more death. She’d had enough.
She found her voice, “Okay… Father, I’m coming.”
She rose from her seat, clutching her tiny handbag as the sephirah around her muttered in astonishment at this familial reveal. Tiphareth caught her hand as she left her chair.
“I’ll come for you, be prepared.”
“Please don’t.” Tat rebuked, reclaiming her hand and marching out of the room without a backwards glance, Yurgis trailing close behind.
The Atrium had again been transformed, though still eerily conforming with her present state of mind. He had indeed circumvented the building’s formidable security by shattering the skylight. Any lingering atmosphere of wonder now lay in ruins, the beautiful streamers and decorations, sodden by the driving rain. Lethal shards of glass lay in wait amidst the carpet of trampled rose petals; this dismal metamorphosis presided over by the sputtering steam of a thousand dead candles. Her eyes chanced to fall upon the crumpled form of Arthyr, luckily still breathing, who had obviously come in when he heard Yurgis’ entrance and paid the price for it.
As they passed through the great iron door they practically had to step over the body of Grayson. Unlike his compatriot, he wasn’t breathing, mainly due to the fact that his throat was cut so deeply his head was nearly severed. What was her father thinking? Did he think he could get away with this? Openly invading an occult institution recognized by the crown? This was audacious even by his standards. Either due to shock or desensitization, The corpse held no fear as she saw the hilt of her knife sticking out of the inner jacket pocket.
As Yurgis poked his head out to ascertain the clarity of the coast, she retrieved the blade, tucking it into her handbag. Four whispered words were Grayson’s only requiem...
“I’ll have this back.”
For the previous two weeks, her father had been, for all intents and purposes, absent from her life, off on mysterious errands. Her mother offered no explanation, and Tat hadn’t asked, content to bask in a blissful reality in which he didn’t exist; just Mother and her and lovely heroin. Now, with the heavy actuality of his presence again at her back as they galloped into the rain soaked night, the crushing weight of his encroachment into that reality was too much to bear.
