The Book of Doom

NGELO LOOKED PREHISTORIC. Not like a dinosaur, exactly, more like the thing that had killed all the dinosaurs off. And probably without even trying.

He stood seven or eight metres tall, with his horns adding eighty or ninety more centimetres on top. The horns scraped along the ceiling as he lumbered forward, his scaly red knuckles trailing across the floor, each thunderous footstep shaking the room.

“Yes,” cackled Haures. “Yes! What a specimen you are! What a specimen you— Oof!”

The back of Angelo’s hand swatted Haures across the room. The Duke of Hell was laughing with delight as he crunched into the metal barricade Zac was hiding behind. Both Haures and the barricade tumbled on for several metres, before rolling to a stop.

Suddenly exposed, Zac straightened up and locked eyes with the Angelo-demon. Bones grew like tusks from the monster’s neck and jaw. The fire in his eyes burned with such ferocity it looked like the whole top half of his head was ablaze. He snorted like a racehorse after a sprint, and each time he did, rings of black smoke blew from his wide nostrils.

“What did they do to you?” said Zac softly.

“We set him free,” said Haures, limping in Zac’s direction. “Impressive, isn’t he?” He looked the intruder up and down. “How did you get back down here, by the way?”

Zac didn’t answer.

Haures shrugged. “They tried to neuter him,” he continued. “Up there. They tried to smother his dark side, kill it off. But you can’t kill that. How can you kill that? All they did was bottle it up. And all we had to do was take the lid off.”

The Angelo-demon’s fist swung down at them. Zac and Haures leaped in opposite directions and the knuckles shattered the floor where they’d stood.

“And this is what you’re left with!” Zac shouted. “He’s out of control. He’ll tear the whole place apart.”

“We’ll train him,” Haures smirked. “We’ll break him, and we’ll keep breaking him until he does exactly as we say.”

“Then you’re doing just what Heaven did,” Zac said. He ducked as Angelo’s Boa Constrictor-like tail whistled by above his head. “You’re only letting him be one thing – but now you’re bottling up his angel side.”

Haures snorted. “So once in a blue moon he’ll lose control and do some really impressive charity work. I can live with that.”

The demon duke feinted left as Angelo’s tail snapped down at him. “He’s already learned some basic commands,” said Haures, recovering quickly. “Watch this.”

Haures stabbed a clawed finger in Zac’s direction. “Angelo!” he barked. The Angelo-demon’s ears pricked up. It gazed down at the much smaller demon, unblinking. Haures smiled. “Kill.”

Slowly, like a shadow at sunset, Angelo’s gaze went to Zac.

“Don’t,” Zac said. “Don’t do this, Angelo. You know me. Try to rememb—”

A guttural howl drowned out the rest of Zac’s words. The Angelo-demon charged, claws swiping, fire spewing from his cavernous throat. Zac rolled, ducked, turned, ran. All around him was the crackling of the flames and the cackling of demonic laughter and the steady boom boom boom of footsteps chasing him down.

The crumpled jail cell stood just ahead. Zac powered forward. If he could make it there, he could buy himself a few seconds. If he could buy himself a few seconds, he could come up with a plan. And if he could come up with a plan, then maybe this wouldn’t have to go down as the most botched rescue attempt in the history of the human race.

The pointed tip of Angelo’s tail streaked by him. There was a nerve-splitting screeching sound as the tail tore through a metal wall, and then the entire cell was jerked up into the air.

Zac saw the shadow of the metal box grow larger around him. He hurled himself out of the way just as the cell was brought smashing down against the floor.

Clambering back to his feet, Zac swung the large water gun into his hands. “I didn’t want to do this,” he said, taking aim. “But you’re not leaving me any choice.”

He squeezed the trigger. A jet of holy water hit the Angelo-demon square in the chest, but the monster didn’t react.

“Immune to the effects of holy water,” roared Haures. “This just gets better and better!”

Angelo brought a foot stomping down towards Zac’s head. Zac avoided it, but only just, and with each miss he made, Angelo became angrier and more aggressive. If Zac was going to take the demon down, he had to do it now.

He ran from the giant demon, not trying to escape, but trying to make space. As he ran, he dug in his pocket and pulled out the little black bag Argus had given him. He heard the footsteps of the Angelo-demon thudding after him. He stopped. He emptied the bag into his hand. And then he tossed the contents towards the oncoming beast.

The eyes rattled like marbles on the hard floor. They began to roll just as one of Angelo’s feet came down on them. The foot slid sharply forward and the demon became horizontal in the air. All ten circles of Hell shook when he hit the ground.

Zac and Haures exchanged a glance, then they both set off running. Zac reached the fallen Angelo first. He leaped up on to his bare chest and fired a spray of holy water towards Haures, forcing the duke to duck for cover.

“Get away from him! What are you doing?” Haures demanded, but Zac was no longer listening to him. He scrambled along Angelo’s chest until he could look him in the eye.

“Angelo, it’s me. It’s Zac,” he said. “I know you’re in there. I hope you can hear me.”

He paused to scoosh more holy water at Haures, keeping him at bay.

“This isn’t you, Angelo,” he said. “Not really. This is what they made you, up there and down here. This is what they turned you into.”

A low growl rumbled from Angelo’s throat, but he wasn’t yet moving to attack.

“Up there they tried to make you an angel, and down here all they want you to be is a demon, but the real you is somewhere in the middle.” He shot more holy water backwards over his shoulder. Haures gave a yelp of panic and leaped out of harm’s way.

“Don’t listen to him, boy! Listen to your Uncle Haures.”

“I thought we were nothing alike, but I was wrong, Angelo,” Zac said. “You’re exactly like me – not perfect, but you’re not a demon, either. You’re exactly like everyone.” He stared deep into the fireballs that were Angelo’s eyes. “The one good thing they did for you up there was give you those Hulk comics. Everyone thinks the Hulk’s a monster, but he isn’t. That’s what you said. All he wants is for people to stop trying to hurt him. All he wants is a friend. Right? Just like you, Angelo. Just like you. That’s why you love the Hulk, Angelo. You are the Hulk.”

Angelo’s breaths were coming more slowly now. The angry scowl on his face had relaxed just a fraction.

“Enough!” boomed Haures from down by the fallen giant’s knees. The demon duke raised both hands and fire flew from his fingertips. Pain contorted Angelo’s face again, and as the pain faded it was replaced by something savage. His eyes fixed on Zac. His mouth pulled into a snarl. A voice like a tropical storm roared out from within him.

“Angelo smash!”

He began to sit up, and Zac was forced to grab on to one of his tusks to stop himself tumbling to the floor.

“Yes!” bellowed Haures, dancing backwards. “Kill him. Kill the human! Kill him now!”

Zac had one chance. He gave the water gun a shake and listened to the liquid sloshing around inside it. There was a litre of the stuff left, possibly less. Even if it did work, would it be enough?

Angelo began to stand. Dangling from his tusk, Zac fired every last drop of the holy water into the demon’s mouth. There was a sizzle, but a faint one. Angelo stopped rising. He looked past his nose to where Zac hung. He raised his eyebrows. And then he licked his lips.

“M-more,” slurred Angelo, and the breath felt to Zac as if an oven door had been opened right in front of his face. He remembered the pistols in his waistband, thought about emptying the water into the mouth, then decided just to toss the guns in themselves. They cracked between Angelo’s teeth, then he gave a low moan of satisfaction as the blessed liquid trickled down his throat.

“Y-yuummeeee...”

“That’s it,” Zac said. “Remember. Remember who you are, Angelo. Remember who you are.”

“S-s-scrummeee...”

Zac finished the sentence for him. “In your tummy.”

“What are you doing?” Haures roared. He raised his hands again and his fingers glowed white-hot. “Whatever it is, stop or I’ll—”

CRUNCH!

Angelo’s tail sent him hurtling through the air again. This time Haures didn’t laugh as he thudded against the far wall and slid down on to the floor.

“Z-zaaac,” mumbled Angelo, his brow creasing as he struggled to form the word. Zac almost cheered.

“Yes! It’s me!” he said. “Can you... can you understand me?”

Quaking with the effort, Angelo nodded his head. The jerky movement almost made Zac lose his grip, but he wrapped his other arm round the tusk and swung himself up on to Angelo’s scaly shoulder.

He glanced down at what was left of the room. Over in the far corner, Haures was getting shakily back to his feet. “Want to get out of here?” Zac asked.

Angelo nodded again. He stood up, then squatted down low. “Yssss,” he said, and then his legs straightened and his hands reached up and together they tore through the ceiling of the tenth circle of Hell.





AC TUCKED HIMSELF in behind the Angelo-demon’s head as a chunk of the ceiling collapsed around them. The clanging of the alarm bell and the yelps of panic from the demons above rushed down to meet them, and Zac felt Angelo’s muscles tense in panic.

“Ignore it,” he said. “They can’t hurt you. Just get us out of here.”

Angelo pulled himself through the hole he had created and they emerged on to the zigzag carpet beside the fountain of blood. The nine circles of Hell stretched up above them. From down there, the first circle seemed an impossible distance away.

At least, it did to Zac. Angelo was already on the move. He crouched down low again and his legs fired like pistons, propelling them upwards. His huge hands reached out, smashed through the frosted-glass barrier, then caught hold of the edge of the seventh circle. The demons on that floor screamed and scurried for safety as Angelo reached a hand up to the sixth circle and began to climb.

“Stop them!” commanded a voice over the Tannoy system. Zac recognised the tones of the Dark Lord himself. He did not sound impressed. “The specimen must not be permitted to escape. Whoever stops them will be given the human to do with as they see fit.”

Zac saw several hundred dark eyes turn to him and gleam. “Keep climbing, Angelo,” he urged as the demon stretched an arm up to the next floor.

One of the larger and braver demons on the fourth circle hurled himself towards Zac, claws bared, teeth gnashing. But his leap was woefully misjudged. Zac watched the creature begin frantically flapping his arms as he fell past, then heard the distant whumpf as his face was introduced to the carpet.

The fourth circle was heaving with demons, all undeterred by the fate of their fallen colleague. They gathered near the edge, ready to hurl themselves on to Angelo’s shoulders as he drew level with them.

“On three, lads!” one of them shouted. “One... two...”

Angelo opened his mouth and an inferno rolled across the corridor. The demons retreated, throwing up their arms to shield their eyes. They lowered them in time to see a foot passing by the corridor as Angelo stretched up to a higher floor.

His claws scraped against the edge of the third circle. He gritted his razor-sharp teeth and stretched further, until his fingertips found purchase on the edge of the floor.

Zac felt the muscles on the Angelo-demon’s back contract, even as he felt the first stirrings of panic fluttering in his own stomach. He looked at Angelo’s horns. They were several centimetres shorter than they had been just a few seconds ago. His neck and shoulders now seemed significantly less broad too, and his hard scales felt considerably softer.

“You’re shrinking! Why are you shrinking?” Zac groaned. “Not now. Don’t change back now!”

“S-sorry,” Angelo groaned. He was looking more and more like his old self with each moment that passed – an enormous version, granted, but his old self all the same.

His skin was going from red to a flushed pink. His horns had all but retreated into his skull. When he reached for the next floor, his arm fell a metre short. He was barely twice the size of Zac now, and he was shrinking fast.

Demons swarmed along the floors above and below them, fighting each other to be the one who stopped the escape.

Zac searched desperately for a way out, for a way past the squawking, chittering hordes, but there was no time to plan, no time for anything as Angelo returned to normal size. Clinging to each other, they fell. Down through the circles of Hell. Down past the braying demons. Down towards the broken floor and the shadowy embrace of the tenth circle beyond.

A sound, like a ripple of applause, filled the air around them. Hands caught Zac firmly beneath the arms and their descent began to slow. He tightened his grip round Angelo and looked up. A pair of feathery white wings filled his field of view.

An angel, he thought, until he saw the bloody wound on one of the wings and instead thought: a Valkyrie.

“Stop squirming,” Herya hissed, her face contorted in pain as she beat both wings as hard as she could.

“I wasn’t squirming.”

“Well, stop talking then!” she spat.

“Is that Herya?” Angelo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hooray! Hello, Herya! You came back for us!”

The Valkyrie hissed again. “Regretting it already.”

Zac felt his toes brush against the carpet. He caught a glimpse of Haures’s fiery eyes blazing in the darkness of the tenth circle, and then they were rising again, climbing, soaring up towards the upper floors of Hell.

As they passed the third floor, a chubby demon with a Mohican haircut took aim with something that looked worryingly like a bazooka. A door flew open behind him and another demon in red pyjamas emerged. The new arrival raised a particularly heavy hardback copy of Jekyll & Hyde above his head, then brought it smashing down on the back of the other demon’s Mohican.

The demon stumbled forward and crashed through the frosted-glass barrier. His eyes went wide. “Ooh, bugger,” he mumbled, and then he and the bazooka went down as Herya and her cargo went up.

“Go on, son!” cheered Murmur, punching the air in triumph.

“Thanks, Dad!” Angelo shouted back. He waved enthusiastically as they passed the third circle and carried on all the way up to the first.

A squadron of uniformed demons were ready and waiting for them. “Halt!” commanded the leader. “In the name of the Dark Lord, Satan, I command you to—”

He stopped talking as Herya’s forehead met his nose. The rest of his platoon stood gaping in surprise. Many of them had dreamed of the day their commanding officer would be cut down to size, but now it had come they weren’t quite sure how they felt about it.

Zac didn’t hesitate. He cut through them, all fists and feet and elbows and knees. Herya mopped up what was left, and in moments the three of them were surrounded by little mounds of unconscious monsters.

Angelo gave a low whistle, then smiled. “Crumbs. That was exciting, wasn’t it?”

Zac looked the skinny boy up and down. “What I want to know,” he said, “is how have you still managed to keep those trousers on?”

Herya was staring down at the senseless demons. She drew in a deep breath. “A fight. My gods. I was in a real fight.”

Zac laid a hand on her shoulder. “You OK?”

“Are you kidding? That was brilliant!” she giggled. “Let’s find more of them and do it again.”

“Let’s not,” suggested Zac.

“Cretins,” crackled the voice of the Dark Lord. “Stop them! Stop them now! Do not let them get to the main door. Do not let them escape!”

“Main door’s this way,” said Zac, leading them towards the exit he knew led to the reception area. He yanked it open and they tumbled inside. “Now, out here and we’re home and dry.”

A small figure in a large suit sat on the other side of the reception desk, his hands behind his head, his feet resting on the table. He gave a vague wave of his hand and the double doors that led out of Hell melted away and were replaced with solid rock.

“Surprise,” said Satan. There was a sound like inrushing air, and Haures appeared in the doorway behind them. The Dark Lord leaned in towards the intercom again. “Oh, don’t let them get to the main doors,” he said in a falsetto voice. “Whatever will we do if they reach the main doors?”

Zac heard Angelo gasp. “This was a trap,” the half-angel whispered.

“You think?”

“Who are you?” demanded Herya, eyeballing the Dark Lord.

Zac did the introductions. “Herya, Satan. Satan, Herya.”

Herya dialled the eyeballing back a few notches. “Oh,” she said, then said nothing more.

“And the gentleman behind you is Haures,” Satan said. “He’s one of the Dukes of—”

“Hazzard,” said Zac and Angelo together, then they exchanged a quick high five.

The Dark Lord swung his feet down and emerged from behind the desk. “Very amusing,” he said. He regarded Zac. “So you came back for your colleague.”

“No,” said Zac. “I came back for my friend.”

“Ker-ching!” cheered Angelo. “Back of the net!” He tried to hug Zac, but was nudged away.

“Not now,” Zac told him.

Grinning broadly, Angelo began body-popping. “He likes me. He likes me. He really, really likes me,” he sang in a robotic voice.

The demons watched him in bemused silence. After several seconds, Angelo stopped dancing. He coughed quietly. “Carry on.”

Satan hesitated. “Right...” he said a little uncertainly. “Angelo will be taken back down and restored to his true form, while you two are given to some of my more... creative staff to have fun with.” He smiled thinly. “Fun for them, you understand? Not for you.”

The Dark Lord returned to the Tannoy and began calling for reinforcements. Zac, Angelo and Herya stood back to back, allowing them to keep an eye on both demons at once.

“What do we do?” whispered the Valkyrie.

Zac’s mind raced. “I... I don’t know.”

“Why did I come back for you?” Herya groaned. “I could’ve been in Vegas by now.”

“Shut up and let me think.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Angelo said, “but you won’t like it.”

“Right now, I’m prepared to try almost anything,” Zac replied. Satan looked up from the Tannoy microphone, a vague expression of amusement on his face. From out in the corridor, Zac could hear the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. “What’s the idea?”

Angelo took a deep breath. “We pray.”

“Pray? That’s your idea? We pray?”

“Have you got a better one?”

“I told you, I’m not praying,” Zac said.

Satan took a step closer. “What are you whispering about, little ones?” he asked them, and his forked tongue flicked across his lips.

“Come on, what harm can it do?” Angelo asked.

“Whatever you’re planning, just do it,” Herya urged. She had her fists raised, but it was clear from the way her shoulders sagged that she didn’t fancy their chances.

“You said you’d try anything,” Angelo reminded him.

“I said almost anything.”

“Just do something!” Herya yelped.

“Oh, all right,” Zac snapped. He pressed his hands together. “Dear God, please save us,” he said. He turned to Angelo. “Happy now?”

“You didn’t say Amen.”

Zac sighed. “Oh, well I’m sorry,” he said. “Amen.”

And as the word left his lips, the air was filled with blinding light and a joyous chorus of Hallelujahs.

Zac rubbed his eyes.

Angelo and Herya and Satan and Haures all rubbed their eyes too. As did the little old man who was suddenly just there, sitting in his favourite armchair in the corner of his living room.

Zac looked around at the familiar wallpaper, the familiar carpet, the familiar everything. He looked at his grandfather, who was staring open-mouthed at the five figures who had suddenly appeared in his front room out of the blue.

“Granddad?” Zac muttered. Phillip turned towards him and an expression of relief crossed the old man’s face.

“Oh, Zac, there you are,” he said. His fingers squashed his globe-patterned stress ball over and over. “I heard you, Zac. In my head. I heard you calling for help. Please save us, that’s what you said. I heard you.”

Zac frowned. “What? I mean... you did?”

“Hey, look. It’s like the song,” chirped Angelo. He nudged Zac in the ribs and pointed at Phillip’s stress ball. “Your granddad. He’s got the whole world in his hands!”

Zac stared at the globe. Then he stared at the old man’s brilliant blue eyes. All those voices his granddad had heard for all those years. Asking him for help.

No, not asking.

Praying for help.

He had heard their prayers, and as far as Zac had ever been told, there was only one being who could hear people’s prayers. One supreme being.

“Oh,” said Zac. He swallowed. “My God.”





HE DARK LORD Satan, Father of All Lies, cleared his throat politely.

“Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?”

Philip turned to look at Satan. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and just then, just for a moment, it wasn’t Zac’s granddad sitting in the chair. It was someone older. Much older. As old, in fact, as time itself.

The air around him crackled in a blaze of light so blinding that Zac was forced to shield his eyes. Phillip spoke, and when he did, his voice seemed to roll in from every direction at once.

“You,” he said, and the whole world shook with the power of it. “Don’t I know you?”

Satan licked his lips, which had suddenly become very dry. “What, me?” he said, brushing his fingers through his hair and hiding the stumps of his horns. “Um... nope. Don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

The light stuttered and faded, and Phillip became his old self again. Zac glanced at the others. Only himself and Satan seemed to have noticed the change that had come over his grandfather.

He quit. That’s what Angelo had said. Almost one hundred years ago, he’d quit. And nobody knew where he went.

Phillip gazed across the group. “Zac, who are these people?” he asked. “Why’s that one got wings? And why’s he in fancy dress?”

“Fancy dress?” growled Haures. He lunged at Phillip. “I’ll show you fancy dress, you old—”

As his hand touched the old man, the demon popped like a bubble and disappeared. Silence fell. Satan shuffled his feet.

“Well, this is awkward,” he mumbled.

There was a faint whoosh from the back of the room. They all turned to see Gabriel and Michael step out of thin air.

“Who’s this pair now?” Phillip frowned. “Where did they come from?”

“Good afternoon,” said Gabriel, his smile as false as ever. He nodded in Satan’s direction. “And look here, if it isn’t the Prince of Darkness himself. We were informed you were on Earth, but we didn’t believe it. And yet here you are.”

“Gabriel. Michael,” acknowledged Satan. “How’s tricks?”

“Oh, can’t complain,” Gabriel shrugged. “Can’t complain. Do you have the book?”

“What book?”

Michael growled and took a step towards the Dark Lord, but Gabriel blocked his path. “You know very well which book,” Gabriel smiled. “Our book. The Book of Everything.”

“Oh, the Book of Doom, you mean.” Satan breathed on his black fingernails and brushed them against his suit jacket. “We never had it. It was all just a trick. We only wanted the boy, and you fell for it. Too trusting, that’s your problem. Well, one of them, anyway.”

Gabriel’s eye twitched. He glanced across at Angelo, who immediately took cover behind Zac and Herya.

“Quite,” the archangel said. “But of course you realise that if that’s the case, then the deal is off. You did not give us the book, and so you do not get the boy. He shall return with us.”

“No, he won’t.”

Satan and the archangels turned at the sound of Zac’s voice.

“I beg your pardon?” said Gabriel.

“He’s not going with you, and he’s not going with him, either.”

Angelo tugged him by the sleeve. “What are you doing?” he whispered. “You’re going to get into trouble!”

Zac pointed at Gabriel. “You tried to make him an angel.” He pointed at Satan. “You tried to make him a demon. But he doesn’t belong in Heaven, and he doesn’t belong in Hell. He belongs here.”

Gabriel laughed falsely. “Here? Among humans? Don’t be ludicrous.”

“He’s halfway between angel and demon. Halfway between good and evil. That sounds pretty much human to me.”

Satan gave a low chuckle. “He’s got you there, Gabe,” he smirked.

“Oh, I think not,” Gabriel sighed. He gestured to Michael. “Seize the boy.”

Zac stood his ground. “You’ll have to get through me.”

“And me,” added Herya. “Although I don’t actually have any idea what’s going on here,” she admitted. “But I really enjoyed punching people in the face earlier, and I’d like to do it again.”

“Twice the fun,” said Michael, drawing his sword. His eyes shone as he lunged with the blade straight towards Zac’s chest.

“Don’t you dare hurt my grandson!” Phillip cried in that voice that boomed from everywhere. Michael’s attack faltered.

The angel stared down at the object he was holding in his hand. It had been a sword. He was absolutely certain that it had been a sword.

“Michael,” began Gabriel quietly, “why are you brandishing an ice-cream cone?”

“It’s... it’s a sword,” Michael insisted, refusing to believe what the mounting evidence was telling him. “It’s a big sword with fire on it.”

“It’s a mint-choc-chip ice cream,” said Zac. “And I’d really advise against letting it drip on my granddad’s carpet.”

Michael stepped back. He looked around for somewhere to put the cone. Finding nowhere, he licked it instead, and discovered that he really quite enjoyed mint choc chip.

Gabriel shot Zac a questioning look. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“Trade secret,” Zac lied. “Just a little trick I picked up on my travels.”

The archangel looked at the ice-cream cone, then he looked down at Phillip, still sitting in his armchair. It was a long time before he met Zac’s gaze again. “I see,” he said almost inaudibly. “Very interesting.”

“Angelo stays here,” said Zac. “He stays here and you leave him alone.” He looked over at Satan. “Everyone leaves him alone.”

Gabriel and the Dark Lord exchanged a glance. “Very well,” said Gabriel. “You win. The boy will stay here.”

Angelo leaped out from behind Zac and began body-popping once again. “Oooh yeah, I’m staying, I’m staying, I’m staying here. I’m staying, I’m—”

“You, of course,” continued Gabriel, directing his smile firmly in Zac’s direction, “shall return with Satan to Hell, whereupon your punishment shall commence immediately, and continue for all eternity. I trust the Dark Lord will take a special interest in your case.”

Satan shot Phillip a quick glance, but the old man didn’t appear to be paying much attention. The Father of All Lies’ forked tongue flicked hungrily across his teeth. “Oh, you betcha,” he said, but he kept his voice low so Phillip wouldn’t hear.

Angelo stopped dancing. “Wait... what?”

“You can’t do that,” gasped Herya.

Zac turned and looked at his granddad, but that shadowy confusion was back behind Phillip’s eyes. Whatever had awoken within him had now gone back to sleep.

“They can,” Zac said. “I died. That’s how I got back into Hell in the first place.”

Tears sprang into Angelo’s eyes. “No, but... but...”

“It’s OK, Angelo,” Zac told him. “I knew this would happen.”

“Wait... what’s happening now?” asked Phillip.

Zac knelt beside him. “I’m going away again, Granddad.”

“What, again?” said the old man. “Make up your mind, will you?”

Zac smiled and patted Phillip’s hand. “Angelo’s going to stay here. He’ll look after you. Look after him too, will you?”

He stood up and turned to face the rest of the room. “Right, then,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“It’s not fair,” sobbed Angelo, throwing his arms round Zac and holding on tight. “There has to be something we can do. There has to be.”

“Well, there isn’t,” said Gabriel quickly. “Satan will take you to the underworld. Off you pop.”

“No!” Angelo wailed.

“It’s tragic, I know,” Gabriel agreed, “but there’s nothing that can be done. Our hands are tied.”

“Fair enough,” said Zac. He held out his wrists, ready to be led away. Just as Satan reached for them, though, he pulled back. “Unless...” Zac said, watching Gabriel closely, “What’s the Right of Enosh”

Gabriel’s left eye twitched. Michael paused, mid lick, then lowered the ice-cream cone from his mouth.

“Never heard of it,” said Gabriel. “Now if there are no further delays...”

“Wait!” Angelo cried. “The Right of Enosh! I’ve read about that. The Right of Enosh. The right to challenge Death for your soul. Remember?”

Gabriel’s eye twitched so violently this time it made his whole head shake. Satan let out a low groan.

Zac frowned. “What? You mean you can really challenge Death? I thought that was just in movies.”

“No!” laughed Angelo. “It’s real. It’s real, isn’t it, Gabriel?”

Gabriel glared raw hatred at Angelo. “Why, yes,” he said, through his fixed smile. “The Right of Enosh. How could I have forgotten? Those who request it may be given the opportunity to challenge Death to a game of chess. Win and you will be restored to life.”

“And if I lose?”

“Then you will be cast into Hell.”

Zac shrugged. “Well, I’ll do that, then.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I’m already going to Hell anyway, so yeah. Why not?”

“Well, yes, there is that,” admitted Gabriel. “But if you lose you’ll... go for longer.”

“What, longer than all eternity?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” said Gabriel through gritted teeth. He was trying to hold his smile in place, but it was a losing battle.

“Let’s give it a bash anyway,” said Zac, and he saw what little remained of Gabriel’s grin fall away.

“Right, fine,” Gabriel snapped. He clicked his fingers. There was a soft pop, and a school desk appeared in the middle of the living room. Zac recognised the boy sitting behind it as the one he’d met in the shed in Limbo. Drake looked up from the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Um. Hi,” he said.

“I give up,” mumbled Phillip, whose already slender grasp on reality was being tested to the limit.

Drake looked at the faces staring down at him. “Hey, you’re that guy with the book,” he said, recognising Zac.

“That’s me,” Zac replied.

Drake smiled weakly. “You all right?”

“Yeah, not bad, not bad,” Zac replied. “Dead, though.”

“What, properly?”

“Yeah.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. Listen, we were wondering, can you play chess?”

Drake shook his head. “Nah.”

Gabriel tutted sharply. “Well, can you learn?” he demanded.

“When for?” Drake asked.

“Now, ideally.”

Drake looked down at the paper in front of him. “Not really,” he said. “I’m doing a maths test. Actually, that’s a point. Does anyone know what the square root of—”

Gabriel clicked his fingers and the desk vanished again. “Right, you win,” he sighed. “Your life is restored, the messy remains you left on the pavement will be disposed of and no one will ever remember finding them.”

“And Angelo stays here,” Zac reminded him.

“Yes, yes,” said Gabriel vaguely. He made a cryptic gesture with his hand, and reality parted a few dozen centimetres. “Come, Michael,” he scowled, “we must return and continue our search for the book.”

“That you off, then?” asked Phillip. He still had no idea what was going on, but he knew where his manners were. “Safe journey home.”

Gabriel paused at the gap in space. He turned and gazed at Phillip. For a long time, he just gazed.

“Indeed,” he said at last, then he stepped through the gap and Michael stepped through after him. There was a sound like a zip being done up, and the hole closed over.

“I suppose I’d best be off as well,” said Satan brightly. “Getting a new kitchen fitted this afternoon. Right bunch of cowboys doing it. Don’t trust them as far as I could throw them. Although I could actually throw them quite a long way if the wind was right.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?” Phillip asked vaguely. Satan gave a throaty chuckle and winked at Zac.

“Never changes, does he? No, I won’t bother. Some other time, maybe.”

He looked Angelo up and down. “Shame,” was all he said, then he clicked his fingers and vanished in a puff of red smoke.

And with that, silence fell on the living room.

“Right, then,” said Phillip, finally breaking the spell. “Let’s have that cuppa.”

Zac, Angelo and Herya stood in the kitchen, their mugs in their hands. Phillip was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Does he know?” Herya asked.

Zac watched his grandfather. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think he’s... forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” asked Angelo.

“How do you forget something like that?” continued the Valkyrie.

Zac shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he forgot on purpose. Maybe he didn’t want to remember.”

“Remember what?” Angelo quizzed. “What are you on about?”

“Can he do that? Can he make people forget?”

“I suppose he can do anything.”

“Don’t be daft,” Angelo said. “Only God can do anything.”

Zac and Herya exchanged a glance. They all sipped their tea.

“So, what now?” Herya asked.

Zac shrugged. “Dunno. Get a job, I suppose.” He jabbed a thumb in Angelo’s direction. “Doubt he’ll let me go back to stealing. Will you?”

“Nope,” said Angelo.

“That’s what I thought,” said Zac. “What about you, Herya?”

“Going to travel a bit,” the Valkyrie said. “Find some adventures. You can come if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

“Good, I didn’t want you to anyway. You’d only hold me back.” She smiled, then gulped down the last of her tea. “Well, see you around,” she said, making for the back door. “Nice to meet you, Mr Corgan.”

Phillip looked up from the table. “You too, dear. And I like your wings.” A flicker of something that might have been recognition shadowed his face as he admired the white feathers.

“Oh, but look,” he said, getting up and shuffling over to her. “You’ve got blood on one.” He licked his thumb and rubbed the wing. Both the dried blood and the wound itself were wiped away. “There,” he said admiringly. “That’s better.”

Herya flexed the newly healed wing. “Thank you,” she said. With a final glance to Zac and Angelo, she opened the back door.

“Herya,” said Zac.

The Valkyrie paused.

“Thanks. You know... for coming back. For saving us.”

She shrugged. “Don’t get used to it,” she said, then stepped through the door. There was the sound of applause as the Valkyrie leaped into the air. It faded as she soared off across the skies.

“Right, then,” said Zac, setting down his mug. “I’ll show you your bedroom.”

“What?” asked Angelo, following behind him as he made for the door leading into the hall. “I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

“Uh, no.”

“But I thought we could get bunk beds. Bunk beds, Zac!”

They walked out into the hall and made for the stairs. “Well, you thought wrong.”

“But bunk beds. Everyone loves bunk beds. Bagsy being on the top bunk!”

“You can’t bagsy the top bunk because there is no top bunk,” Zac said. “You can’t bagsy something that doesn’t exist.”

There was a rattle from the letterbox and a black envelope fluttered to the floor. Zac grabbed it, then opened the door and looked out. There was no one there, but had he paid more attention, he might have seen something one-eyed and semi-naked lumbering along the street in a decidedly unfeminine way.

Zac closed the door and studied the envelope. His and Angelo’s names were written on the front in silver script. He tore open the top, and two rectangles of plastic slid out into his palm.

“What is it?” asked Angelo, craning his neck to see.

Zac held up the cards. “VIP passes for Eyedol.”

“Aw,” smiled Angelo. “That was nice of him.”

“Want to go?”

“No way,” said Angelo firmly.

“Yeah, nor me,” said Zac, and he slipped the passes back in the envelope, then tossed them in the bin.

“You know the only thing that still bothers me, though?” Angelo asked.

“Steropes being a woman?”

“No!” Angelo shuddered. “Well, yes, but something else too.”

Zac stepped on to the bottom stair. “What?”

“The book. Where’s the book?”

“How should I know? Does it matter?”

“Depends. What if someone dangerous has got it?”

“I doubt they’d be any more dangerous than Gabriel.”

He moved to head up the stairs, but as he did, his eyes fell on the goldfish bowl. The fish inside was swimming around as fast and as frantically as ever, darting through the water in a blur of shimmering orange.

Zac stopped.

He stepped back down into the hall.

“What is it?” asked Angelo. “What’s the matter?”

Zac looked at the fish, and for the very first time, he saw. Properly saw. As it swam it left a shining trail behind it, like someone drawing in the air with a sparkler. Before Zac’s eyes the trails became shapes and the shapes became letters and the letters spelled out words.

“Z-A-C,” he said aloud.

Angelo’s lips moved silently. “Zac,” he said. “That spells Zac! Give me another one.”

Zac shushed him and kept watching. The letters sparkled in the bowl, each one visible for only a tiny fraction of a second, but leaving an indelible imprint on his mind’s eye.

ZAC CORGAN LOOKED IN DISBELIEF AT THE BOOK OF EVERYTHING.

AND IN THAT MOMENT HE UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW THAT HE COULD NEVER TELL

ANOTHER LIVING SOUL WHAT HE HAD SEEN.



“What is it?” asked Angelo. “Why are you staring at the fish?”

“He took the book,” Zac said to himself. “He took the book with him and he hid it.” He glanced through into the kitchen where his grandfather sat. “Just like I’d have done.”

“What? What are you on about?” asked Angelo.

Zac shook his head. “Oh, nothing,” he said, and he turned towards the stairs once more. The thing that looked like a fish continued its endless, eternal swim.

ZAC CORGAN WALKED UP THE STAIRS, FOLLOWED BY THE HALF-BLOOD, ANGELO.

ZAC CORGAN SMILED, AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ZAC CORGAN’S LIFE,

HE CONSIDERED THE POSSIBILITY OF BUNK BEDS.





“ BRING NEWS, sir.”

“Good show, Gabriel. News of the book?”

“The... uh... the book, sir?”

“Yes. You know. The... the book. What’s it called?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“What? Of course you do, man. The missing, uh, the missing... thing. What’s it called?”

“Missing thing, sir?”

“Yes, you know. With the... and the... and whatnot.”

“If you’ve misplaced something, sir, I can have some of the angels look into it.”

“Misplaced something? Who’s misplaced something?”

“I thought you had, sir.”

“Me? No. How could I misplace anything? I’m a disembodied voice, for Heaven’s sake.”

“Quite, sir. Forgive me for asking, sir, but why was it you wanted to see me?”

“I didn’t. I thought you wanted to see me.”

“No, sir.”

“You had news, you said. About... About something or other.”

“I don’t seem to recall having any news, sir.”

“I’m almost certain that you did.”

“Then it must’ve slipped my mind, sir.”

“What did?”

“Uh... I don’t know, sir.”

“What?”

“Sorry, sir?”

“Why are you here, Gabriel?”

“My apologies, sir, I think I may have hit my head on the way in. I am having difficulty recalling my reason for coming.”

“For coming where?”

“To see you, sir.”

“Did you? When?”

“Now, sir.”

“Ah, right. Yes.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, I have some duties to which I must attend. Michael has requested that we try to source him some ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yes, sir. He has rather inexplicably taken a shine to the flavour mint choc chip. We don’t know where he got the taste from.”

“Well, whatever keeps him happy, I suppose. You may go. Good day, Gabriel.”

“Good day, sir. And should I remember what I came in for, rest assured you shall be the very first to know.”

“To know what, Gabriel?”

“...”

“Gabriel?”

“Nothing, sir. But I think perhaps I’d better have something of a lie-down.”