The World Ends at Five & Other Stories (8 page)

Jezebel ignored him, tugging insistently at the sleeve of Stephen’s robe. “Please! Whatever you want, it’s yours! Just take me with you!”

Stephen surprised himself by laughing; he’d never done that before, and the shock of the realization of it startled him into abrupt silence. Then, quietly, he said, “It isn’t reached by bribery but by true change of heart, and somehow I sincerely doubt yours.” And he started for the door,
Doria
firmly in his grip. He stopped only to wait for Andrew, who waved him on.

“Go!” Andrew roared. “Get out of here!” And before
Stephen could voice a protest, Andrew launched himself at
Lucien.

Stephen
towed
Doria
out
into
the
hallway
and towards the stairwell without looking back.

Once out in front of the Ames Enterprises building,
Doria
pulled herself free of Stephen’s grasp. “That’s it!” she declared suddenly, startling the angel into backing up a
couple of paces. “I’ve had enough for one night! I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain this to me.” And she began to sob uncontrollably.

Stephen
glanced
up
at
the
dark
clouds
above
t
hem,
then
returned his gaze to
Doria
. “We really don’t have
time--”
He
moved
towards
her
again,
but
she skittered away.

“No!
Why
should
I
trade
one
kidnapper
for another? Give me one good reason!”

“I’m not trying to kidnap you. I just need for you to come with me.”

For
a
long
moment,
Doria
only
stared
at
him, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed, everything in her expression
suggesting
to
Stephen
that
he’d
said something foolish or strange. But then, with a huff she only asked, “Why? Where are we going?”

Before Stephen could answer, the glass room at the top of the tower exploded outward, raining glass onto the sidewalk below.
Doria
shrieked and Stephen grabbed hold of her, hurrying her away from the building and back towards the bay.

Thunder continued to rumble as they walked, and lightning licked at the city. They had gone more than halfway before
she dared ask again, this time in a harsh whisper, “Where are you taking me?”

Stephen
glanced
behind
them,
as
if
afraid someone might be following or listening. He could see the Ames building, the top of it gone, with nothing remaining but a great radiance, shining like a misplaced lighthouse beacon in the center of the city. On the far side of the city, small drops of fire had alr
eady begun to fall like strange
rain.

“There is no reason for concern,” Stephen said in his
quiet
way,
although
the
faint
wrinkle
of
his
brow denoted something like worry or maybe
perplexion
. “We must simply make it to the water.”

Doria
turned to loo
k over her shoulder. A far-off,
fiery glow haloed the farthest side of the city. “
What.
. .?” Stephen pulled sharply on
her
arm.
“Don’t look
back.”

She cast a quick glance at him then started to turn
back to the burning metropolis, so he took her head in one strong but gentle hand and twisted it to face forward. “I know you know your scripture. Think of Lot’s wife.”

She raised her eyes to him and gave a little nod to show she understood. A few minutes later, they stood on the shore of the bay.

Out over the water, the clouds were a bruised and sullen violet. The waves were choppy, slate gray, pushed by a brisk and unrelenting wind.
Doria
gazed out at the dark horizon and gave an involuntary shiver. “Now what?”

“We keep walking.”

Her
eyes
searched
for
a
boat,
footprints in
the sand, any clue as to where exactly they were going to be
walking to.
“But--”

“Straight ahead, into the water.”

“Listen, Steve or whatever your name is, I’ve been kidnapped, held in a dark room by a lunatic who thought he was, I don’t know, Satan or something? The whole damned city is burning, and you want me to walk out into the bay, no boat, no life preserver, just out into the storm on what, my faith?”

The silver eyes studied her expression carefully, his own face still and blank. “I understand this is difficult for you. It is a true test of your faith.” Stephen held out his hand. “Either come with me now, or stay with your city.”

Doria
started to turn again for one last glimpse but stopped herself. She looked at the water. She looked at him. She took his hand.

They walked until the water was nearly to her knees before she protested once more. “This is getting ridiculous. Where are we going?”

Stephen’s eyes roamed the horizon restlessly. “It
will be here. Soon.” The last word sounded tacked on, as if it was more to persuade
himself
than her.

“What? The Pearly Gates?”

The angel grimaced. “I’m not sure I would describe them as such exactly.” But the furrow on his brow was deepening. He gave her hand a slight tug. “Come, let’s go a little farther.”

Doria
groaned but relented. She was rewarded for her patience only by another frown and the rather worrisome words, “Could it be that we are--”

And then the water parted and a tall man with a mane of dark hair appeared. He wore armor that flashed even in that darkness and held a great golden key. Stephen’s eyes grew wide at the sight of him.

“Michael,” Stephen said, unable to completely disguise his surprise.

“The
angel
Michael?”
Doria
asked him lowly. “Archangel,” Stephen
corrected just as quietly. And
his grip on her hand tightened somewhat.

Michael smiled, but instead of being an altogether pleasant sight, it was more like a flash of lightning during a
particularly damaging storm--a
flash
that
promised only more of the same, if not worse.

“Congratulations,
Stephen,”
he
said,
“
you
’ve proven yourself.”

Stephen only blinked.

“This was as much a test of your own faith as well as
hers.
. . and Andrew’s.
It was thought by some that you would not be able to go through with
it. And that Andrew might be tempted away as well.”

“Andrew hated,” Stephen reported sadly.

“And it was his hate that saved him. Your compassion
is
your
weakness,
Stephen.
Many
of
us thought you would have too much of a heart to let the city
fall.”

“But Andrew--”

“Had to steel himself against the temptation of an old friend. Lucifer’s betrayal angered him as it angers
me and also our God
. But it is ended for now.” Michael waved them on. “Go, get her to the Gate.”

“For now?”
Doria
asked as Stephen ushered her on. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lucifer
will
be
locked
in
the
Abyss
for
one thousand years,” Stephen replied absently, his mind elsewhere.

“And then?”

The angel sighed. “And then he will be released. But you know this; it was made known to John of Patmos in the Revelation.”

“Yeah, but I just never thought I’d be some major
part of it, you know?”

“Nor did I,” the angel admitted.

“It
doesn’t
seem
fair
that
after
all
this,
they’re going to let him out again,”
Doria
went on.

“It is not a question of fair. It—” But he broke off
when he caught sight of what they’d been looking for.

Doria
gasped. “Is that--?”

Stephen
nodded.
For
a
long
moment
they
just stood there.

“I guess we
should.
. .”
Doria
began.

Stephen
nodded
again.
Neither
one
of
them
moved.

Finally,
with
a
deep
breath
Stephen
collected
himself. “Come,” he said, starting forward.

Doria
hesitated. “Does this mean I’m dead?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not at all. On the contrary, you have eternal life in
Heaven.”

“Oh, well, in that
case.
. .” She started after him.

It was like glass, she
saw
as they got closer, only you couldn’t see through it. It shone with a blue and silver light and was taller than any building she’d ever seen. When they were a few paces away, the Gates swung open and spewed forth even more light.
Doria
thought that it should have
been bright enough to
blind her,
but
somehow it didn’t bother her at all.

When they reached the threshold, he stopped. “Go inside; they will be waiting for you,” he told her.

“But aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet. I told the whore that
Heaven could only be reached by a sincere heart
. No
w I must make sure mine is so.”

“You mean you’re having second thoughts,”
Doria
deduced.

“Doubts,” Stephen said with a small nod. His expression was tightly drawn, as if he was in physical pain.

Doria
fought back a sudden urge to touch him on
the shoulder or draw him near for comfort. “Where are you going to go?”

“Back to the city. I must make sure that I have no
. .
.”
he
searched for a word. “Regrets?” The word tasted bitter on his tongue. He studied her for a moment. “You don’t, do you?”

Doria
smiled
and
looked
up
at
the
great
open
Gates before her. “No.”

“You sound surprised.”

"
I am. But then, not really.” She sighed and turned back to him. “Sorry; I’m not explaining it very well.”

Something passed along his lips that might have
been a smile. “Go on in.”

Doria
stepped forward into the light.

Stephen found Michael standing on top of a building that had not yet been reached by the flames, surveying the smoldering city below. “Where is he?” Stephen asked.

Michael gave a slight shrug. “He’ll be along soon enough. The Lord’s plans are steadfast.”

Stephen’s eyes roved what was left of the far half of the city. The fire moved steadily towards them, smoke and ash swirling with the gusts of hot wind. But there were no people; the city was deserted.

“Fallen is Babylon the Great,” Stephen whispered. “You
are
concerned
about
what
I
said
about
Andrew,” Michael said without turning. “About hate.”

“It is wrong to hate,” Stephen said. “Not evil. We are to hate evil.”

Stephen considered this. “But can we not have pity on it, too?”

Michael shook his head. “No mercy. Only wrath.”