Angels in Hell by Janet Morris

Author:Janet Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baen
Published: 1987-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

4.

Suddenly the office door was kicked open and in strode three men. Two entered first, obviously bodyguards. They surveyed the room with expressionless black eyes. Ryan was not sure they were really human.

But the third man was definitely a person. He was tall, handsome, and elegantly dressed. He swept in behind his bodyguards and stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips.

Gestas leapt to his feet and Origen stood up slowly. Ryan remained seated. I don’t know who this stranger is, he thought—probably some sort of policeman— but I’ve done nothing wrong. The worst thing is to seem guilty.

“Now Fr. Ryan,” the stranger said, “when the Devil comes calling it is customary to stand in greeting.”

Ryan froze. The bodyguards made a move toward him, but Satan held up a hand to stop them. Trembling, Ryan struggled to his feet.

“Why, look,” Satan said happily, “he’s shaking just like a little bunny rabbit. Isnt that nice. Good priest. That makes up for not recognizing me. Now sit, all of you.”

They sat.

Satan walked to Origen’s desk and stood there, staring sadly at the hundreds of forms the Egyptian had been sorting. He took up a handful and began to read. Frightening as it was to look upon the face of Satan, Ryan could not turn away from the Evil One’s deep blue eyes as they examined the hopeless protests of Hell’s malcontents.

Then the Devil threw the papers to the floor. He leaned back and roared. It was the sound of one hundred martyrs being devoured by one hundred lions. Ryan wished he were dead, then remembered he was and wished he were simply invisible.

The Devil looked at Ryan and said softly:

“Why do they long to leave us?”

The Jesuit shook his head. He was red as a beet and dumb as a rock.-

“That’s all right, priest. I know what you think. I know everything about you. I know you’ve filled in a form yourself.”

Ryan knew by now That the pounding of his heart was phantasmal. All is illusion now, he thought; this body is just imagination. It is my soul that suffers. I retain a sense of my earthly form in the way an amputee imagines still possessing a severed arm, but there is no form, only tormented spirit.

Ryan concentrated, but could not control his terror.

“You know, J.J.,” the Devil began, using the nickname Ryan’s mother had favored, “I think your decision to leave the Church makes good sense. The Dope in Rome fooled you, and if you’re a man, you’ll knock the dust from your shoes and say good riddance. You’ll settle in here where you belong.

“Now, I know you were never much of a reader, but I’ll wager one thing you did read, once upon a time, was the Inferno. Yes? I knew it. Well, you remember the sign Dante hung, poetically speaking, over the gates of Hell? Of course you do. Now, you know there’s no such sign here, but did you know I have a paperweight on my desk that’s inscribed with the legend? Well, I do.

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