Deicide (Hellbound Trilogy) Read online

  I pulled myself up slowly, resting my elbows on my knees. My wits were frayed. Keeping my eyes down, I paused for a few breaths, letting the silence reassure me that another storm wasn’t coming. Eventually, I straightened and crossed my legs as well, sitting to match my master’s pose.

  Our physical positions made a mockery of the power difference between us. Our postures were the same, but his dominance was evident. I thought I had become strong, but I was still a baby compared to him. I wondered if he was now even more powerful than Asmodeus. My intuition told me yes.

  “Before we begin,” he said in his penetrating whisper, “I must make it clear that I will not join you. And before you protest, I say this is unalterable. Let us not waste energy arguing. By the time you leave me, you will have all you need to complete what you wish, without me at your side.”

  My disappointment sunk through my lungs like a cold mist. I would have felt much more confident going into battle with him among us. I didn’t want to accept it just yet, but it wouldn’t do me any good to argue for now.

  “I need to learn how to make material bodies, so we can be resurrected back to Earth,” I ventured instead.

  His chirping laughter made me feel stupid for stating my intent, which he clearly knew already.

  “For a visionary leader you can be quite short sighted. A solution for that small hurdle will present itself sooner than you imagine, without my help. No, I will show you what you really need: to cloud your future from your enemy.”

  My heart leapt with possibility.

  “I can block Asmodeus from reading my fate?” I asked. “How?”

  The Perceptionist paused, glancing out into The Void with all the eyes on the left side of his body. A single line of white shone from the distance, turning into a solid beam, which moved forward and entered his temple on that side. From his right temple sprang another set of light beams. These were different colors, fractured and splintered, heading off in every direction. They looked like pulsing arteries, or tentacles reaching out into the unknown.

  “I have shown you something similar before,” The Perceptionist said.

  I did indeed recall the roadmap he had shown me when explaining past, present and future.

  “To one side is your past: irrevocable. A single path,” he reminded me. “This has already happened so there is no variation. But the future,” he held out his right hand, indicating the tangle of beams shining from his mind, “still has many options. Your pathway is affected not only by your own decisions, but the decisions of others. There is no certainty here. Destinies collide and clash all the time. This is when new futures are formed.”

  The jumble of options spreading out on The Perceptionist’s right actually made me feel better. They were a mess. There were so many unknowns that no one, not even Asmodeus or The Perceptionist, could guarantee any outcome with one hundred percent accuracy.

  “You are correct,” The Perceptionist nodded, reading my thoughts. “but you are also wrong in a certain respect.”

  Doubt crept into my gut.

  “Watch,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The tentacles that leapt out of his mind started to shrink. One pathway grew thicker and shone brighter. The other lines around it were drawn together to form one, thick cord. Its intensity was so stark that it made the other offshoot tendrils burn away. Where there were forks before, now only one certain route remained.

  “Is that my future?” I asked.

  “No,” The Perceptionist said. “This is just a demonstration.” He paused and let me study the path. I stood up and moved closer, walking around and through the beam he had created. When I concentrated I could see that there were still some other options, but they were so dark and shaded that the glare of this one way simply overshadowed all others.

  “Why is it like this?” I asked.

  “Because you are a powerful being. Your will dominates all the others around you now.”

  As I watched, more of the darker paths surrounding the main one became fused with it, making the centre stronger still.

  “Imagine those other lines were the destinies of other people, all separate lives, sometimes joining for moments, and other times splaying apart. Some lives never meet. However, at certain times throughout history there is a cataclysmic event so large that everyone becomes involved. When it is a person of unparalleled greatness like yourself, others are content to drop their personal projects and join with that leader’s vision. This is an overwhelming strength if you wish to form lasting change in the universe, but it may also be your biggest weakness in defeating Asmodeus. Because the path is so strong, it makes it easier for him to see what will happen.”

  I studied the line again. No matter how bright it was, other minor options still surrounded it.

  “But you say this isn’t my future. This is just a demonstration,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “So how can I stop it from forming like this? How can I make it more unpredictable, but still reach the same end goal?”

  The Perceptionist lifted his right hand and the lights evaporated. He turned his head toward me and I thought maybe, just maybe, his lips turned up in a smile.

  “Now you are starting to ask better questions,” he said, indicating for me to sit once more.

  SEVEN

  “PUT SIMPLY,” THE PERCEPTIONIST SAID, lifting his hand and locking his fingers in the peace sign, “there are two ways to foster uncertainty.” He let one digit fall and pointed to me with his index finger. “The first is to put your trust in others.”

  “I do.” I started, but he cut me off.

  “True trust. Not just a confidence that they follow your plans and do what is right. You must let go. Tell them where you’re headed and ask them to help you get there, without them having to tell you how they will get it done.”

  I lowered my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I could release so much control of this. There was too much at stake. I needed to know we were doing things the right way. The Perceptionist was correct: I had faith in my friends, but not blind faith. That had gotten me into trouble before. It was true that letting multiple people have serious input into the way things were done could help develop alternative paths, but if we acted independently of each other we could very well just be stabbing in the dark. The old adage “united we stand, divided we fall” came to mind. We had a united purpose, but I always thought we needed a united pathway to achieve it as well. I looked back up to my teacher.

  “What is the second way?”

  “Stopping yourself from knowing what you intend to do.”

  What? I knew better than to question The Perceptionist’s meaning, yet it must be impossible to complete a plan that I didn’t know the detail of.

  “Not impossible,” The Perceptionist read my open thoughts. “It has been done before.”

  I stared into The Void again, looking at the expanse of nothing for an answer. The elemental lights of an entire universe spread into the distance. My mind wandered to what I knew about the beginning of Creation, about what my enemy was capable of. The form of Asmodeus filled my mind’s eye.

  I remembered that he could truly deceive anyone: even himself. At the beginning of time, God split his personality into two beings. He blocked a portion of his mind off and trapped that second, evil self in the Underworld. This was the beginning of Asmodeus’ fractured nature and the origins of Hell. For millennia he had fooled himself into thinking Satan was his enemy, when in fact they were the same person. I saw the possibility here, that perhaps I could rearrange my thoughts in a similar way. However, the danger this presented shook me. I didn’t want to risk destroying my true self like he had.

  “My father did it once,” I said. “I can’t end up like him.”

  The Perceptionist nodded at my concern.

  “You do not need two bodies,” he said. “Just two minds.”

  Two sparks zapped upward from his fingers. Twin human outlines shimmered between us and melded back into one before disap
pearing. I let the residue of what had occurred clear from my vision.

  “I don’t understand.” I blinked. “How can one body contain two minds?”

  “I will show you,” he said, raising his arms in the air again and summoning the molecules of life around him. Working with a feline grace, The Perceptionist wove a model of a full-sized man in front of us. The base elements of a physical body encased emotion and reason. Rather than spark the being alive with a soul, he left it dead, but glowing. I could see inside its structure and make out the veins and capillaries coursing through it. The nerve endings pulsed with electrical charges, spreading down from the brain. They were not true thoughts, just an animation; another demonstration The Perceptionist produced for my benefit.

  Raising his finger in the air, my teacher sent golden light into the brain: rationality. The body twitched with the infusion of latent intellect. The light followed the electric pulses around the body.

  “Now,” The Perceptionist began. “Witness an example of the body in true instinctive action.”

  At his words, energy formed, not in the brain, but in the centre of the body. It zapped outwards in a lightning blast. The pseudo-man lifted his arm then dropped it again. A leg rose and then went limp. Each movement spread so fast that the energy forming and the action taking place happened simultaneously.

  “Such action is rarely, if ever, present in humans. You are more measured creatures who require reason and emotion to drive your thoughts. This,” he said, waving his palm, “is normal human action with premeditated thought.”

  The golden light in the man’s brain stormed together with new emotion, which The Perceptionist manipulated with invisible strings. The ideas mixed together slowly. Thin, preliminary vibrations reached from their cortex, out to all of the muscles in the body. These weren’t full beams, more like probing energy lines that looped through the body and then returned to feed back into the brain again, creating a cycle of pathways. As the sequence repeated, a true thought of intent finally formed and brilliant colors of action zapped outward. The man began to dance, like a marionette.

  “The more complex the action, the longer the feedback loop needs to be,” The Perceptionist explained while the man danced. “Human bodies actually send off signals that they are going to move before you are even consciously aware that you’ve made the decision to move it.”

  In awe, I watched the display again as it was repeated from scratch. If this was true, then even trying to strike someone with a fist could be seen full seconds, if not minutes before it happened. It was astonishing. This was why The Perceptionist had been able to counter my strikes before I could get close to him. He could see in plain view what I was going to do.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “And just think how easy it would be if you weren’t working from impulse. If you had meditated thoughtfully on how you might defeat me, if I was watching you closely, you would never be able to even get near me. It’s not just about physical action either. If I watch closely I can see thoughts working inside the mind. I can see plans being made.”

  “And Asmodeus is watching?” I asked.

  “You have the luxury of being in Hell, where he cannot see for now. Remember, he made it originally as a shield to his own abilities. This is why you succeeded in Purgatory; he could not see into that realm through the shroud of the filters. However, he could always come back into Hell to spy. He has done this before.”

  “How?” I asked, hoping my teacher would have the answer that always plagued me.

  “I don’t know. He has shielded himself well. What I can tell you is that, even if he doesn’t come to Hell, as soon as you step foot on Earth in plain view he will have the capability to know your plans. Should he be watching when you enter the material realm, he’ll be able to track your progress and figure out your path. As I have said, any ideas you hold in your head can be divined into future action with strong certainty because of your strength of will and the effect that has on others. I must stress that futures are never completely certain, because of free will, but some futures are much more likely than others based on your thoughtful intent. You can always change your mind at the last moment, but then that would make it impossible to follow a plan and have it work as a long-term goal. Other people near you can distract his focus also. A mixture of intentions can often cloud the certainty of the future, but only if you relinquish your influence over those people. When Asmodeus came to Hell to steal your keys to the gates, the quick actions of your pilot friend helped save some hope. If you put true faith in others, this often pays dividends.”

  I sat back and pondered what I was being told. If I wanted to defeat Asmodeus, it could not be on a whim. It must be carefully considered. I couldn’t see how just letting others do the work for me could ever succeed. They might assist, but I had to help guide them. The brute force inside me dictated that I had to know where to focus my energies. Could I somehow take control, but without knowing it? At the moment we were able to plot against him because we were in the relative safety of Hell. Still, the only conceivable way to Heaven was through Earth, and there I would be exposed. The answer to the problem was still out in The Void somewhere. I was confused. If I was to separate my thoughts into two separate places, how could I follow a plan?

  “You leave your day-to-day self intact,” The Perceptionist followed my train of thought. “Your short term plans, your individual nature – they all remain the same. What you understand as your conscious self stays as it is. However, your forward thought formation, the element of your brain that will create an ultimate solution, can be locked away. This part of you will plan on its own without being inhibited by immediate problems, or letting the rest of your conscious mind know.”

  The idea was baffling, but as I let the theory settle inside me I knew it could work. It was like Freud’s idea of the “unconscious mind”, which affects how we act without us really knowing why. However, this version was smarter and would only drive action when I let it.

  “Very good,” The Perceptionist clasped his hands together. “You can create a separate intellect, which is a force hidden to everything else. Then prying eyes cannot penetrate it. Not even yours. When you are ready for this part of yourself to become known, you slide the division away and let it take hold of your body, like instinct. If it is constructed well, some portions of your intent can be leaked through to your frontal thought to help you move in the right direction, without you completely understanding why. When the time is ready for attack, you let the thoughts spread instantly to your limbs from the centre, not from your brain. They will then be instantaneous and harder to combat.”

  The idea now seemed not just plausible, but credible. I was to keep most of my brain as normal, but split the other, scheming side away. In a sense it would be like an extra kind of “gut instinct” that could help guide my actions.

  “But how do I lock away potent thoughts like that?” I wondered.

  “With emotion.”

  I looked to my master. The golden glow of rationality was bursting inside him. It was not muddied with the color of emotions like a normal being. He had no love, no hate, no anger and no joy within. He was all intellect, but only because he had made himself that way. It hadn’t always been the case. Between our first and second encounters, The Perceptionist had changed his body at will. He had separated emotion from himself and grown other senses which he didn’t have before. He had thought that by stripping the disruptive force of emotion away he would be able to interpret the universe more clearly. It had always horrified me that he had destroyed that part of his nature. All my happiness and motivation to find Charlotte had come from emotion. I refused to think of it as a disruptive force. Emotion made me human. I could never give that away.

  “I haven’t let emotion go forever,” The Perceptionist stared at me. “I simply find it useful to have peace to think. It’s the struggle between the two opposing natures of rationality and emotion that makes most people unhappy. Take the struggle away and you fin
d peace.”

  “Struggle is all I have to keep me going,” I whispered.

  We lapsed into silence and watched each other. I looked at the atoms of my teacher. It was quite beautiful seeing a being so complex, yet so simple in its direction. Perhaps my attachment to emotion was misguided, but how could I ever give my love for Charlotte away in a puff of smoke? It was unthinkable. Looking at his physiology, an epiphany hit me like a bolt. Of course! Emotion clouded intellect! If I were to build a barrier of pure emotion around a separated nerve centre of ideas, it would be hidden from anyone hoping to peer in, including myself. That was how I could separate my two minds. Perhaps that’s why Asmodeus could not see through the barriers of the realms either; the weave of emotion through the centre was too strong to penetrate. It certainly made sense.

  “You didn’t even need me to show you the way,” The Perceptionist said softly. “Your past experiences are helping you find new ideas. This is what I have wanted all along, not for me to tell you, but for you to recognise the answers. I hope you will unfold more ideas, and that one day you will show me perfection. I pray you can think of something I haven’t been able to conceive.”

  Perfection. I remembered his quest. So, he had still not found it.

  “I have not.” My master closed every one of his eyes and stood quietly for a moment. Elements of light vibrated around him in a shudder. “This is why I choose not to interfere directly with the outside world. I am hoping perfection will come to me. It is nowhere I can see within myself, as I had once hoped. Please bring it to me.”

  “What if it doesn’t exist?” I asked sadly, wishing I could somehow repay all that he had given me.

  “Perfection exists,” he said with certainty. “If it doesn’t exist, then it is not perfect.”

  I shook my head. Perhaps so much intelligence was a form of insanity all its own.

  “Obsession is not insanity,” The Perceptionist whispered. “Not when you know your goal is out there somewhere and you can have it if you are simply persistent enough.”