The Redeemer (26 page)

“Is it true?” Satan asked me.

“No.”

“No?”

“No—sir.”

“Liar,” Reywal yelled.

Satan looked at me, expecting me to speak. I moved my mouth, hoping words would come out.

“Well, you see it was like this, Your Majesty. I was trying to help Reywal prove his work. You know, a quality check, so to speak.”

“Liar, liar,” Reywal interrupted.

“Let him finish,” Satan said.

“Right, so, where was I?” I took a deep, cleansing breath. “I wasn’t convinced Judas could go the distance if he had to betray Jesus face-to-face. Unlike the other disciples, Judas is a social reformer, a community activist if you will, committed to a better world for the poor and all that. In spite of our initial assessment that he would be the best inside man for those reasons, upon closer examination of the candidates my recommendation would have been to go with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Yes, who indeed?” I fumbled for time.

“He’s stalling,” Reywal charged. “He doesn’t know.”

“Peter,” I said.

“The pope?” Satan asked.

“Ridiculous,” Reywal said.

“Not so much.” Satan was listening, so I kept talking. “Peter is emotional, prone to overreact, doesn’t make a quick connection between cause and consequence. He’s boisterous, brags a lot, and doesn’t follow through. He tried to walk on water once; almost drowned. No doubt in my mind—Peter is much more likely to fold under pressure and deny Jesus than Judas. So that’s why I tried to help Reywal by testing Judas’s conviction.”

“None of that is true,” Reywal said.

“Both of you be quiet and let me think,” Satan ordered.

I was much better at being quiet than Reywal. He sidled closer to me, muttered under his breath, and flicked me with his barbed tail when Satan wasn’t looking. I was determined not to yelp in pain. At last, Satan spoke.

“Reywal, you are dismissed.”

“But, sir, surely you don’t believe him.”

“Go, now. I’ll take it from here.”

Reywal bowed and slinked out of the room backward. I never expected to win out over a legal mind like Reywal. I remained very still as Satan stood up, lifted the lid from the dark onyx chest beside his throne, took out a sweeping black cape, and fastened it around his shoulders. It was lined in crimson and draped around his frame, touching the floor. I’d never seen him in formal dress before. He looked more imposing than usual.

He must be planning to go out.

“Are you going somewhere, Your Majesty?”

When he pulled the hood over his head, he seemed to almost disappear into the satin-like shroud. I stood aside to let him pass.

“Come on. Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Am I going with you?”

For a moment I was excited, because I thought maybe he was going to open the locked door beside his throne that led to Hades. He’d taken me there once before. The memory of the river Styx that separated the righteous Jews in Abraham’s Bosom from the side with the condemned humans was etched into my memory forever. My excitement abated quickly, however, when he walked past the door, went behind his throne, and placed his hand on a granite wall. The wall slid away, revealing the blackest black I’d ever seen and the coldest draft I’d ever felt. He stepped through and beckoned me to follow with a wave of his claw hand. The smell of sulfur was so strong my eyes were burning.

I gasped, sputtered, coughed.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Asthma, sir. I’d better wait here; I’ll only slow you down— wherever it is you’re going. And may I say, you look very handsome.”

“You are the bane of my existence,” he grumbled as he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me across the threshold.

I didn’t want to go with him, but if I had to go, I didn’t want to get lost. After a few steps what light there had been from the doorway faded, and I couldn’t see a thing. But I could hear the soft
whoosh
of his cape as it slid over the stone floor, so I reached down and grabbed hold of it. He didn’t seem to notice. I followed along behind him for a long distance, holding on to the cape with both claw hands and keeping my burning eyes tightly shut. When he stopped walking, I ran right into him.

“Idiot!”

“Sorry.”

“Let go of my cape.”

It was still dark, but an eerie glow from some unknown source made it possible to make out our surroundings. We were standing on a ledge over the abyss. Satan raised his arm, and immediately I heard the snorting of six black demon horses charging from out of the darkness. I had no idea we had such animals in the second heaven. The leathery wings on their backs had an enormous span. I ducked down so they wouldn’t accidentally hit me and knock me over the edge. When they came to a stop before Satan, the lead horse tossed his mane and pawed the ground. Then the door of the chariot opened, and Satan climbed in. With a flourish of his cape he waved his claw hand at me.

“Good-bye, sir,” I waved back. “Have a nice ride.”

“Get in here this minute!”

“I’m allergic to horses.”

He grabbed me by the neck and slung me to the floor of the chariot, where I was content to stay.

The horses neighed like werewolves howling as they flew faster and faster. I pulled myself up the side of the chariot and peered over the edge to see where we were going. A sea of fire boiled below us.

At least I know where the glow is coming from.

Higher and higher they flew as the wind whipped the chariot to and fro, and lightening cracked the darkness all around us. We were in an upward spiral, and I grew more and more nauseous with every circle. When we finally stopped, the wind had died down, but the lightning still flashed across the great expanse above us. Satan stepped out. I tried to get out as well to find a steady surface to regain my equilibrium. Holding on to the chariot’s wheels, I stuck my leg out the door and tapped my hoof all around, but there was nothing to step on. I pulled my leg in and leaned out, hanging my head upside down so I could see what was underneath the chariot. It rested on a narrow protrusion of a stone mountain that jettisoned to a point in front of the horses, where Satan now stood looking across the inferno below. The boiling waves of fire lapped at the hem of his cape.

Even though my face was burning I was afraid to pull my head back inside, lest the slightest weight shift cause the chariot to rock more than it already was. The wheels groaned and creaked as they rolled back and forth from the rising energy of the fire below. As my eyes adjusted to the stinging, I began to calculate my odds for survival if the chariot rolled off into the burning sea. It was risky, but I had to chance it.

The safest place for me was on the back of the lead stallion. If the chariot fell, it would break free from the horses. I waited as long as I could, but when the tips of my wings began to melt from the heat, I swallowed my fear and climbed slowly across the horses’ backs until I was perched on the neck of the leader. I held on to his mane and hoped he wouldn’t notice me.

I looked past where Satan stood and saw a ledge way on the other side of the inferno. Someone was standing on it. He was clothed in white with a warrior’s sword at his side. His massive arms were crossed, and his wings were golden from the glare of the fire. I recognized him at once.

Michael!

“So it’s you who’s come to greet me,” Satan called out to him.

Michael didn’t answer.

“Look and listen.” Satan pointed to the inferno below.

I’d been so terrified for my own safety; I hadn’t noticed the wailing and screaming coming from the sea of flames. As I forced myself to look down, I saw ghostlike images of distorted creatures gnashing their teeth in desperation, rising up on the waves of heat, only to crash back down into the lapping fire.

“How does Tartaroo look to you, Captain?” Satan sneered.

Tartaroo? The deepest part of hell?

I’d heard of such a place of final damnation for God’s worst enemies, the fallen angels of centuries past, the ones who had raped the human women and spawned the dreaded Nephilim. Were those tortured creatures down there what were left of those rebellious angels?

Maybe my exile hasn’t been so bad after all. At least all of us who fell with Lucifer are still alive—so far. Is that our final destination?

Panic began to overtake me.

I have to get out of here. How can I get Michael’s attention? Perhaps he’ll take me with him if he sees me. He’s sure to have heard of my situation by now.

I tried to stand up on the horse’s back, which was an idiotic thing to do, since he almost threw me off. He lurched forward and snorted, startled by my sudden move. Satan looked over his shoulder and glared at me, then turned his attention back to Michael.

“How do you answer me, angel of the Lord?”

“Hell was created with you in mind,” Michael responded.

“Perhaps I’ll have company,” Satan laughed, but then he growled. “Be warned. This is God’s last chance to save His Son. If Adonai fails, as I promise you He will, this will be His destiny, here with me—along with all His precious Jews.”

Michael was silent, but Satan wasn’t deterred.

“Even if His Father won’t save Him, you still can, warrior prince. What kind of megalomaniac sacrifices His own Son to win a cosmic poker game? You know you’ve thought the same thing.”

Do I detect a grimace on Michael’s face?

“The angels are at your command. Send them to save Jesus now— or share the guilt of His senseless murder.”

Michael drew his sword, and a lightning bolt struck the chariot. I lost my grip on the horse’s mane. I remember the sensation of falling. I don’t know what happened after that. When I opened my eyes again, I was draped across my perch in the second heaven with no idea how I got there.

C
HAPTER 31

I
SEARCHED THE STREETS
of Jerusalem looking for everybody. It was the night of the Passover, so I knew Jesus and the disciples would be in one of the houses sharing the sacred meal. But I didn’t know which house it was or that the meal would be His last one. When I heard a loud voice booming through an otherwise quiet night, I recognized it as belonging to Peter. I found them in a large room on the upper floor of a merchant’s house.

Peter wasn’t the only one with the loud voice. All of them were planning their political careers and arguing about who would be the greatest in the new government Jesus was sure to set up.

“I’ll make room for most of you in my cabinet,” Peter said.

“Your cabinet?” John replied. “Who put you in charge?”

“Jesus. He said I was the rock.”

“He meant your head is like a rock.”

“Well, one thing is for sure; both James and John can’t be in office at the same time,” said Matthew.

“And why not?” the brothers asked in unison.

“Nepotism. Never works out.”

Jesus watched the squabbling for a while but didn’t seem as amused as He usually did when the disciples behaved like children. When He stood up and took off His outer garment, they were still vying for position and didn’t notice when He filled a basin with water. He picked up a towel and ordered them to all quiet down and line up.

“What are You going to do, Lord?” Peter asked.

“I’m going to wash your feet,” Jesus said as He knelt down in front of him. “Hold your foot over the bowl.”

Peter lurched backward.

“Never, Master. You cannot wash my feet.”

“Peter, if you don’t get over here and put your foot over this bowl, you’re done. I can’t do anything else with you.”

“Never let it be.” Peter stepped nearer to Jesus. “Wash my whole body if You want to.”

“Just your feet.” Jesus poured the water over the toes of the fisherman and dried them with a towel. One by one He did the same with all of the embarrassed disciples.

“What I’ve done for you is now what you must do for one another from this night forward. I have other things to say to you, so sit down, and we’ll talk while we eat.”

“I hope He’s not going to talk about you-know-what again,” whispered James to John.

Each man found a place to recline at the table. John sat on Jesus’ right side and Judas on His left. Peter sat across from John and made a face at him for taking the place next to Jesus, which Peter thought ought to be his. Jesus reclined on His left arm with His back to John so didn’t see the donkey ears hand signal John shot back to Peter. I sat down next to Judas.

“I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you,” Jesus said, “before I suffer.”

“Suffer?”

“What did I tell you?” James said in a low voice as he scrunched in next to John.

“What do You mean, Lord?” Bartholomew asked.

Jesus sighed. “Have none of you heard one word I’ve said about why we’ve come to Jerusalem?”

Eleven blank faces stared back at Him. Judas shifted uncomfortably as he picked at a thread on the tablecloth and made no eye contact with anyone. Jesus sighed again.

“I tell you, I will not eat again until all is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come.”

At first they were stunned. Then they high-fived each other and grinned as if they’d just received the best news ever.

“This must mean a change in plans,” Matthew said excitedly to Peter. “If the kingdom is coming tomorrow, His crucifixion fears must have subsided.”

“He was never afraid,” Peter answered back. “Just willing. It was probably some kind of faith test, and it looks like we passed.”

They slapped hands again in agreement.

Jesus seemed perplexed by their reaction, so I jumped in to help Him understand why the men were so happy.

“Lord, these men have the emotional IQ of a doormat. Unless You lower Your expectations, You’re going to be constantly disappointed. They’ve missed Your point entirely. They take what You said to mean You will have the kingdom You’ve been talking about all set up and ready to occupy before supper tomorrow night.”

Jesus gave no indication He’d heard me. He took the cup of wine, held it up, and gave thanks to His Father, then set it down and spoke again.