Plague of Angels (26 page)

“I kept going back and forth,” said Nyx, still not moving. “I kept thinking that they weren’t all bad, these humans. That some of them were good, some were decent. That some were trying to raise their children to be more than what they themselves are.”

“Some are,” said Persephone.

“No, they’re not,” said Nyx. “They’re bettering themselves, not their race. They’re making themselves worse than what they are so they can have more.” She stared into the sun. “Did you know Theodora was fucking the pope?”

“Yes,” said Persephone. “Ishtar told me.”

“Did she tell you that she fucks him with her daughter at her side? That they take turns serving his depravities?”

“She did.”

“She finds out her daughter is being ass-fucked by her lover and instead of being enraged, joins them. What sort of mother is that?”

Persephone shrugged but didn’t answer.

“How can they act this way?” demanded Nyx. “How can they be this way, knowing their souls are going to Hell for it? I’ve tortured souls until they were nothing but Hell-stone for far less than that! Then pulled them back out and tortured them again!”

Persephone shrugged. “Most of them don’t believe in Hell. Or Heaven. God’s been gone so long from this world that they don’t feel his presence any more.”

“The morning after I revealed Marozia’s affair to Theodora, I chased down Ishtar. I was planning to torture her for a month and instead, she convinced me to walk with her to see how depraved everyone was. And I did, and they were, and I
still couldn’t find it in me to condemn them all!
”

“Some of them are…”

“None of them are!”
screamed Nyx. “But even so, I had to keep looking for the good in them. I had to weigh each one’s choices before I could condemn them, and then, I could only condemn them individually!”

“Some of them are worth saving,” ventured Persephone.

“Not enough of them!” snarled Nyx. “And I still couldn’t condemn them!” Nyx’s body shook with rage, and when she spoke again her voice was filled with disgust. “So I flew here. I tried to understand why. I sat in the fucking snow for a year to understand why. I fucking
prayed
, Persephone! I actually sat down and prayed, just to see if I could hear Him, just to see if he could hear me so I could tell Him what disgusting, horrible
things
these people are!”

“Did you hear him?” asked Persephone yearning in her voice. “Did He speak to you?”

“Of course not!” raged Nyx, fire lighting in her eyes. Her flesh began heating with the power of her anger, and the frost began melting away from her skin. “He hasn’t spoken to me for an aeon. And now he doesn’t speak to anyone! And that’s when I realized
why
I couldn’t condemn them all out of hand.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have free will!” Nyx’s wings flexed back and forth, sending gusts of wind and snow through the air. “God made me their judge, remember? He made me Queen of Hell and he made me judge them all! So I can’t just condemn them. I have to judge each and every one of them, from the most evil bastard walking on the planet to the purest little virgin that ever lived. He made me like this!”

Nyx stalked back and forth on the mountaintop. “So I started praying again. Only this time I prayed to Tribunal. And every time I pray to him, every time I say his name out loud, it gives me the strength to do what we need to do.”

Persephone’s head titled to one side. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because I needed to think,” said Nyx. “I need to find a way to take control of the church beyond these squabbling, petty little Romans.”

“And did you figure it out?”

“Yes,” said Nyx. “I did. But I’ll need your help. How are the Easterners?”

Persephone shrugged. “The Arabs will keep them busy for a hundred years or so.”

“Good.” Nyx walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. “We’ve been here too long,” she said. “Too long away from where we belong.”

“You want to go back to Hell?” asked Persephone.

“We don’t belong in Hell,” said Nyx. “We belong in Heaven. And since that bastard God won’t let us go back there, then I’ll damn well have His son bring me into Paradise.”

Persephone nodded her agreement. “How can I help?”

Nyx grinned and spread her wings. “Become a virgin, my dear. You’re about to serve an Angel.”

Theodora slapped her screaming daughter. “Shut up, you little slut!”

Marozia, in the midst of a contraction, couldn’t defend herself. Her mother slapped her again. She cried instead, long wails of agony that filled the room and the hallways beyond. Standing at the girl’s side, mopping her brow, Ishtar barely managed to suppress a laugh.

“Do you think Alberic will have you now?” Theodora demanded. “Do you think he’ll want a little slut who lets herself get pregnant instead of saving herself for her husband?”

The contraction receded, and Marozia’s eyes fixed on her mother. “A little slut who got pregnant from her
mother’s
lover, you mean,” she ground out. “A little slut who fucked the Pope!”

“A little slut who should have used a pessary!” Theodora hit her again, just as another contraction hit. “Stupid whore! You should have just given him your ass and left your cunt for your husband!”

Marozia groaned in pain and screamed, “I don’t have a husband!”

“And you never will, now!”

“Yes,” said Nyx, stepping into the room. “She will.”

Theodora spun around and saw Nyx as the matron she had met before. “What in the name of God are you doing here?”

“What is necessary,” said Nyx looking at Ishtar. She crossed the room and took Marozia’s face in her hand. “Is the child Sergius’s?”

“Yes,” gasped Marozia. “It is!”

“Then we now have even more leverage over him,” said Nyx. She touched Marozia’s forehead and her pain diminished to next to nothing. “Push, child. Have your infant. We will ensure you still have a husband.” Her gaze shifted to Ishtar. “Won’t we?”

In Speleto, Ishtar sat at Alberic’s table, disguised as a courtier. “It is a simple matter, my Lord Duke,” she said. “Raise the girl’s son as your own.”

“What?” Alberic looked shocked. “You think I would let the bastard of that slut and that old man into my house?”

“That slut,” said Ishtar, “controls the pope. And her son is proof of the pope’s broken vows. Keep them both alive and well, and you’ll be able to control the pope yourself.”

Alberic I, Duke of Speleto, leaned back in his chair and thought about it.

“Besides,” said Ishtar. “Now you know the girl is fertile, and can bear you sons. Surely that is worth the inconvenience of a bastard running around. And of course, there is the other thing…”

Alberic’s eyes narrowed. “And what is the other thing?”

“Theophylact,” said Ishtar. “And Theodora. They’ll both hate it immensely.”

Alberic, Duke of Speleto, grinned.

906 A.D.

Pope Sergius III rose in the middle of the night, and wondered why. His bed was empty, for a change, and he’d wanted nothing more that night than to sleep until morning came. It had been a long, trying day. Alberic of Speleto and Aldabart of Tuscany had blocked Berengar I from coming to him and receiving the crown of the Emperor. It was all about politics, of course, but it made no
sense.
The West needed a strong leader to bring back the Holy Empire. Berengar was perfect, save that Alberic and Aldabart didn’t like him and wanted the crown for themselves, even though they had nowhere near the power it needed.

He sighed and thought of Marozia. She had grown into the same beauty her mother had, and when the two woman came to him together…. A shudder went through Sergius, and he thought of summoning a maid to relax him when he saw a small candle burning in an alcove on the far wall of his room.

There was no alcove there,
Sergius thought.
There’s never been an alcove there.

Yet, there was one there now, and a candle was burning in it, in the hands of a woman dressed in white. Sergius rolled to his feet, looking around the room. There was no one there, save himself and the young woman. Cautiously, he advanced on her. “Who are you?”

“I am one that has waited for you,” said Persephone, her voice ethereal and gentle. The long white robe covered her body, and the wimple covered her hair, making her look almost like a novice of any of the holy orders, save that the robe was just tight enough to give hints of the young, pretty body that she wore underneath it. She saw Sergius notice and tried not to smile. “I am the one who serves. And I have come for you.”

“For me?” Sergius was confused. “For what?”

Persephone turned and the wall behind her slid open to show a small spiral staircase.

“This wasn’t here before,” said Sergius. “None of it.”

“Of course it was,” said Persephone. “God was just not ready for you to see it. Now, follow.”

Sergius was scared. And he would have stayed in his room, had not Persephone looked over her shoulder and said in the voice of an Angel,
“Come.”

Persephone descended the staircase, wiggling just enough on each step to keep his attention locked on her body. Sergius, unable to do anything else, followed. The staircase wound down far below the Papal Palace, to a large, empty chamber that could not exist. It was huge and vaulted with thick, fluted white pillars that rose to support the ceiling. In the middle of the room, rising up three steps high, was a large, round white marble dais. In the middle of the dais sat a square block, three feet high and ten feet to a side, with a single white marble chair, cut in the ancient Roman style set in the middle of it.

“What… what is this place,” said Sergius. “Why have you brought me here?”

The girl didn’t answer. She stepped up onto the dais and stood beside the chair. Sergius took two tentative steps up onto the dais, but did not go all the way. The girl smiled, then looked up.

From above, shining from a bright light within, a black-winged Angel in white robes floated slowly down to the chair and sat. She smiled at Sergius. “Welcome, Pope Sergius III.”

Sergius’s eyes went wide. “You… are you… can you be…?”

“I am an Angel of God,” said Nyx
. Descended, but you don’t need to know that.
“I have been sent here by our Lord and Savior, to guide the leaders of his most holy Roman church forward as they spread his word.” Sergius knelt and in an instant, Nyx was there to raise him up. “I am not God, Sergius, you have no need to kneel before me. I am an advisor. Sent here to help you when times become difficult. And to guide you forward on the path of righteousness.” Her smile turned sad. “It is a path from which you have most grievously strayed, Sergius.”

Sergius hung his head. “I know. I am a weak man, with a weak man’s failings of the flesh.”

“You are indeed,” said Nyx. “And worse, you have allowed your failings to bring you under the sway of one who holds the church as neither holy nor divine, but only a tool to use to gain wealth and privilege for her family. And despite her young age, she is working against our divine plan, unlike her mother.”

“I will… I will break off my relations with her,” said Sergius. “At once.”

“Very good,” said Nyx. “Know that God forgives us of our failings, if we balance them with good works in his name. And that is why I have summoned you here. It is time for the Roman Catholic Church to assert its authority over the churches of the East and the West. The Nicene Creed must be defended against their apostate beliefs.”
Not that either of you are right. The holy spirit doesn’t even exist.
“I charge you, Sergius to defend that belief, and further, to work ceaselessly to bring together Christians under one banner, no matter what the leaders of the church of the East may say. It is time for the true Christians, the Christians of the North, to lead Christianity forward.”

“Yes, my lady…”

“I am not your lady,” she said. “I am Nyx, messenger of God. And if you ever have need of my guidance, call and I will answer.”

“Yes, my… Yes, Nyx.”

“Go back to your rest, Sergius, and know that I will be here, when I am needed.”

Sergius, not sure what to do, bowed. Persephone handed him the candle, and he made his slow way up the steps to his room in the papal palace. When he stepped into it, the door in the back of the alcove closed behind him, and he knew that it would only open again when he was summoned.