The Department of Hate - A Love Story (5 page)

Chapter 5 – The Great Hall

Jarrod and Cassandra were waiting for Abaddon when he returned. They'd tried to sleep through the day but without success. They were still wearing the same clothes that they wore on the train. Cassandra was wearing jeans and a light blue blouse, Jarrod was wearing pants and a casual grey shirt.  Abaddon looked at them uncertainly. He was holding something over his arm.

“My Lord, you can't go like that.”  Jarrod looked back at him impatiently

“What do you mean?”
Abaddon was clearly hesitant, but eventually he said

“Well my Lord, you wouldn’t normally
.” Jarrod didn’t care much but asked anyway

“So what do you suggest?”
Abaddon showed him the suit he'd brought with him – plain black, elegant but not ostentatious.

"This is similar to what you have already my lord, but yours wont fit you yet."
Jarrod grimaced

"Yet!"
Abaddon suggested that they follow him into one of the bedrooms. Opening a large wardrobe he pointed out a range of suits – all of them the same plain black in colour, very expensive looking, and all of them massive in size, far too big for him.

“It's just like these ones, my Lord.”
Then he opened the other side of the wardrobe to show a range of long gowns.

“And perha
ps one of these for the female?” Jarrod was amused

“Why do I have those?”
Abaddon again gave one of his smirks.

“You did like to keep one or two of the human females around my Lord, and you always insisted on a certain level of elegance
.” Jarrod stared back at Abaddon

“Did I now?”
Cassandra looked at Jarrod – her expression ambiguous.

Given where they were the very idea of fashion seemed absurd. But maybe there was a point to it – fit in, play along. He looked over at Cassandra who just shrugged and replied

“Why not?”
  She sorted through the gowns - pulling out a red satin one.

“This
one will do.” She waited patiently, without saying anything. Jarrod finally noticed

“Oh,
yes, of course, we’ll wait in the other room.” He stepped outside. Abaddon followed him, rolling his eyes - he still couldn’t believe how inanely Lord Beelzebub was behaving. But once again he reassured himself

“
It won’t last too much longer.” A few minutes later Cassandra came out wearing the long red, low cut gown. It was a perfect fit. Jarrod caught his breathe.

“You look ... so beautiful”
. Cassandra didn’t reply but looked at him oddly. Jarrod looked back at her. She reminded him of someone – someone in a dream, barely recalled, dancing with him, wearing the same red dress. He tried but he couldn’t remember anything more. He felt an immensely deep sense of loss without knowing why. He went into the other room and came out again wearing the black suit. Cassandra looked him over carefully but made no comment. Abaddon shuffled in place, keen to get going. He said

“Ready, my Lord
?” Jarrod replied

“Yes. Let's go then.”
Cassandra added dryly

“Oh yes, lets”
They were both worrying what they were getting into next.

Abaddon led them out of the building through the side entrance, around to the front and then down a broad promenade towards the Pit. He almost seemed excited. He told them that the Great Hall was also on the edge of the Pit about a third of the way around. They arrived at a circular roadway that ran around the edge. They could see the building they were heading for – about a mile or two away. It was starting to get dark but it was light enough to see clearly. The heat was still almost unbearable. But all of this quickly became irrelevant. Jarrod and Cassandra’s attention was riveted on the pit. It was now just in front of them. Both of them stared at it, too shocked to respond in any other way. It was several miles across and dropped almost vertically. Half a mile down there was the top surface of a seething mass of bodies in constant motion – all shapes and sizes - all naked – arms and legs and heads thrashing about as each of them tried desperately to stay on top and not get sucked under. All of them screaming, biting, snarling, scratching and clawing away at each other - in their endless effort to stay on top where at least the air was a little better. This was now all they had, and all they ever would have. For each of them the final end of a lifetime of striving, a lifetime that had been decreed to be inadequate, earning for them eternal damnation – untold and unlimited suffering and pain now and for ever more - just so many rejects cast forever into the Pit of Despair. Jarrod and Cassandra had to step back as they felt wave after wave of smouldering, blistering heat coming up out of the pit. There was a constant roar of pain and protest from below - even louder than the unending high pitched screeching from above as ever more of the damned poured out of the sky and down into the pit.

Cassandra looked at all of this with great distress and her eyes filled with tears. She exclaimed 

“Well that’s just fucking great
.“  Jarrod nodded his agreement – too stunned at first to say anything. Then he turned to Abaddon asking him bluntly

“So who’s the sadistic asshole who invented that?”
Abaddon was surprised by the question, he answered carefully

“Well, my Lord. Ah, God, Yahweh
.” Jarrod was in a harsh mood, he snapped back

“Yeah, I know that you stupid fuck. It was a rhetorical question.”
Abaddon was relieved. Hostility was something he understood. He answered quickly

“Yes my Lord, of course my Lord.”
Bizarrely Jarrod found himself thinking of how to get out of the Pit if he ever ended up in it. He asked

“How deep is it?”
  Abaddon replied

“I don’t know, my Lord. It’s supposed to be bottomless. But it couldn’t be, could   it? If it was they'd all still be falling.”
Jarrod replied stonily

“I’m hardly in the mood for theology. Can you get out or not?”
  Abaddon replied

“No my Lord, once you're in the Pit you're in there forever. Demons or humans. Makes no difference.”
  Jarrod was deeply disturbed by this, so much for that idea.

"How many of them go in?"
Abaddon sneered

"Most of them these days, my Lord. Almost all of them. Thousands per hour."

Jarrod and Cassandra continued to stare at it for some time, caught up in its unbearable misery, unable to turn away. Abaddon waited impatiently but careful as always not to show it. Finally they did turn away and proceeded along the roadway - trying without any success to ignore the thundering roar from below and the endless screeching from above. Abaddon wasn’t concerned about it at all and didn’t understand the fuss. He was just keen to get them to the celebrations on time.

They continued around the side of the pit, along the road, finally approaching the Great Hall.  It was a large building, a dull stony grey monolith like the others but somehow distinctive.  It didn’t have any windows, but it did have a large ornate entrance at the front facing the pit. A number of demons made their way through the entrance, every one of them casting a curious glance at Jarrod and his group as they approached. From the hall there came the sound of loud booming music, loud enough to shake the sides of the building and only growing louder as they got closer. Jarrod managed to ask

“What is this, a rock concert?”
Abaddon replied

“No my Lord. A celebration. We always welcome back one of our own. Of course they have usually reverted to demonic form by now."
Jarrod thought about this, not liking the implications very much.

“So, how is it that everyone recognizes me?”
Abaddon replied quickly

“We see the essence my Lord, not just the outer form
.” Jarrod thought about this. The implications were even more dubious. He said

“Well, that’s hardly encouraging
.” He looked at Cassandra.  She shrugged and didn’t reply.

As they went up the steps towards the main door one of the demons already there turned towards them. He was larger than most of the others and dressed more elaborately. He was leading three naked humans on a chain leash, two females and a male. They looked such small defenceless puny things in comparison to him. They kept their heads down and were obviously completely submissive. It was Asmodeous. He boomed out a greeting

“Beelzebub, welcome back
.” He waited for some response.  Abaddon intervened quickly pointing out

“He does not yet remember, my Lord
.” The large demon looked at them, apparently surprised. Then he said

“Oh yes, so I heard, how peculiar
.” Abaddon continued

“Yes, my lord.”
Then turning to Jarrod he made the introductions

“My Lord, this is Lord Asmodeous. He is the head of
the Department of Lust.” Jarrod surveyed him with some distrust. He seemed sleazy. He was already openly leering at Cassandra. Licking his lips he made the casual remark

“Nice looking female you have there
.” Jarrod replied carefully

“I see that you have two.”
Cassandra was surprised and annoyed by Jarrod’s reply but said nothing. Asmodeous stared back at Jarrod with an evil gleam in his eye.

“They’re gifts; the females are for Lord Belial and the male for Lord Marbas.”
There was already some kind of bristling hostility here. Jarrod didn’t need Abaddon to tell him that he and Asmodeous were not on good terms. Jarrod looked suspiciously at Asmodeous's male slave. He asked

“I thought that the demons here only kept female slaves?”
Asmodeous licked his lips again and sneered

“Mostly we do, but some prefer a little variety. I keep a few of the prettier males. Marbas in particular enjoys breaking them in, introducing them to their feminine side. He finds it amusing. They don’t of course - well, not at first.”
Jarrod could hardly begin to think of a reply to that and said nothing.  Asmodeous continued to stare at him. He stared back. They were sizing each other up.  There was obviously a very great depth of hostility here. Finally Asmodeous relented. With a conspiratorial wink he said quietly

"Come see me, I'll tell you what I'm sure you most want to know
." Jarrod was instantly wary.

"
And what would that be?" Asmodeous raised his eyebrows

“Well I assume you would like to get out of here and back to Earth.”
Before Jarrod could reply he turned back towards the open door and with a tug on the leash led his captives on into the hall.

Jarrod, Cassandra and Abaddon followed him in.  There was an alcove the size of a small room. Asmodeous had already gone through the door on the other side. Jarrod looked about.  The walls seemed to be filled with torture instruments and weapons of various kinds - a rack, a metal cage, whips and floggers, thumbnail devices, saws, hammers, spikes, collars, barbed wire, face masks, chains, knives, axes, studded hoods. Abaddon was amused at his apparent dismay.

“All human devices my Lord. They are so much more inventive than us. Makes you wonder. Cassandra knows what some of these are, don’t you darling. I’ve been checking up on you. That one for instance....”
He said this nastily, mockingly – while pointing to an iron and leather flogging device. Cassandra looked annoyed – but didn’t say anything. Jarrod was curious but decided to ignore him. He would ask Cassandra later, privately. He said out loud

“Enough!  Let’s go in now.”

He pushed open the door and strode in, the others followed. The hall was filled with hundreds of demons.  Large monstrous figures stamping their feet in time with the music. Many of them had naked human slaves on short leashes - mostly female. They turned as one towards him. Then, in time with the music, they began chanting loudly, while continuing to stamp their feet,  

“Beel-za-bub,  Beel-za-bub, Beel-za-bub.” They went on and on, endlessly, with wild and desperate enthusiasm. The effect might have been overwhelming, but somehow Jarrod felt nothing. He stared back at them, catching the eyes of a few of the demons closest to him – who quickly lowered their gaze. He felt for them nothing but contempt. This surprised him at first. They continued chanting for some time - Jarrod stared right back at them, eyes dark and cold, daring them to challenge him. Obviously none of them would ever even consider it.  If what they saw was his true form, his essence, he briefly wondered what it was they were seeing – evidently enough to forestall the wrath of hundreds of the foulest beings from the inner depths of Hell. 
‘A cause for concern’
he thought to himself.  But to them, right now, no other response was possible - contempt, arrogance. He almost enjoyed it - the pure savagery of the moment. If one of them were to move on him he would rip his fucking head off without pausing to even blink.