Attic Clowns: Volume Four (4 page)

For hours, the imp weeps, refusing food, drink and conversation. It was my intention to allow the first lesson to persist until tomorrow morning. However, I do not see the necessity for such a prolonged session of despair. He has despaired deeply enough, and in truth, I have despaired alongside him. Ordinarily, it is a simple enough task to maintain a sense of detachment from those I work with, but somehow, this imp has weakened my defenses. Perhaps I pity him too powerfully for what he suffered in his past. Or perhaps I respect him too heartily for how he has overcome adversity. Whatever the truth may be, I must not allow compassion to threaten the success of my mission. I will allow the first lesson to end now, but I will not be so lenient in the future.

With a thought, I dematerialize the horse.

My imp turns to me, sniffling. “Where you put horsey corpse?”

“It is somewhere safe. I will return it to you if you stop your crying and make an effort to concentrate on what I am saying. Can you do this for me?” 

The demon wipes his enormous eyes. “Yes, yes.”

“Firstly, I want you to know that I understand how you are feeling. As an angel, I have experienced loss time and time again. When you become an angel, you will lose much more than horses. At times, you will be asked to give up your hope, your dignity, even your love. There will be moments when you feel used, manipulated, cheated. During these instances, you must remind yourself that you are not being punished or tested or played with. The Maker is not cruel. The reason for your suffering is simply that a life of service is arduous. I am not telling you this to frighten you or disheartened you. I merely want you to prepare your mind and heart for what is to come. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“Globcow think so.”

“Good. Now, before you start believing that an angel’s life is all misery and sacrifice, I should tell you that the job comes with certain privileges and immunities. First and foremost, you will be made roughly immortal. You will be given your own reality to mold and shape as you please. You will take solace in the knowledge that your actions will keep the Universe from descending into chaos. And every once in a while, the Maker will express gratitude by blessing you with an unexpected gift.”

Presently, I remanifest the small mustard-colored pony.

The demon wraps his scrawny arms around the beast and says, “You not kill horsey again please. Please not kill her. Please.”

“I will not harm her,” I say. “At this time, I relinquish my control of the beast to you. She is now your manifestation and your responsibility. All that I ask is that you please prevent her from inflicting any damage to my office.”

“Globcow promise. Thank you very much, Zabareth.”

 I smile. “We have had a strenuous day, and tomorrow will be no different. For now, let us treat ourselves with a full three hours of sleep.”

“Where Globcow sleep?”

“Until you become an angel and earn your own reality, you will be lodging here in my Attic.”

The demon glances around. “Where Globcow’s sleep bucket?”

“Am I to presume that you are accustomed to sleeping in a bucket? No wonder your posture is so atrocious.” I sigh. “No, you will not be sleeping in any bucket. While you are residing with me, you will slumber in the cot that I manifested for you.”

When I drew up the plans for my Attic redesign this morning, I positioned the demon’s bed on the opposite side of the room as my own. But perhaps I should err on the side of safety and reposition the demon’s bed to my side of the room. This way, if the demon exits his bed during the night, there will be a greater chance that I will wake up. Who knows what variety of mayhem the hellion might inflict on my reality if I am not awake to stop him?

Ordinarily, upon entering into bed, I fall asleep immediately by willing my mind into unconsciousness.  But tonight, I lie on my side and gaze at the imp who snores only a few feet away from me. When I notice him shivering, I place another blanket over his little body. When he whimpers, I say, “Fear not, little one. You are safe.”

I have not shared my room with another being for eons. Therefore, the sense of fellowship I feel is all but alien to me. If I am not careful, my affection for the imp might end up clouding my judgment. I must not get too attached, for his sake and for my own. If I am unsuccessful in my mission, he will return to hell and I will not see him until, perhaps, the Second Celestial War. If I that occurs, there is a chance that I will be the one assigned to kill him.

After I close my eyes, I find myself sitting before the desk in Geltharidge’s office. Generally, I detest the scent of cigarettes, but this is not so today. I glance around in search of Geltharidge, but she is nowhere to be found.  Standing, I am struck by the feeling that Geltharidge is hiding beyond these walls in the Maker’s Womb. I do not know why she would hide herself at a time like this, but the thought causes me to squeeze my hands into fists.

I attempt to gaze outside. However, the window has been replaced by a gilded mirror with the carving of a female bust that mightily resembles Geltharidge herself.

In the mirror, I do not exist.  Why Geltharidge would manifest a mirror that refuses to reflect me, I do not know.

While gazing at the empty space where I should exist, I glimpse a blur of movement behind me. I whisk my body around and spot Geltharidge’s fedora-topped silhouette in the frosted glass of the Everydoor. In a moment, she disappears. I would attempt to follow her if not for the wave of exhaustion sweeping over me.

There is nothing left for me to do than to sit at the Archangel’s desk and wait for the fatigue to pass. Once sitting, I spot a luminous letter hovering above the wooden table. Handwritten on the paper are the words “Can’t see you today. Emergency situation. Sorry, Zab.”

Geltharidge gave me her word that she would meet me here, but once again, she has broken her promise to me. I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no “emergency situation” to be handled. Geltharidge simply tossed me aside so that she might spend more time with him. Of course she did.

Presently, a fire blazes behind my eyes, which rejuvenates my body. Of course, once I am able to move again, I smash the gilded mirror with my fists. I tear apart the luminous letter. I inflict every variety of mayhem on this reality that I can imagine.

After my tasks are complete, I am plagued by a powerful urge to undo what I have done. With my thoughts, I restore the objects that I have damaged. However, I do not erase the crimson splatters on the floor and walls. I will let her clean up my blood.

As soon as my three hours of rest is over, I sit at the edge of my cot and I realize that my hands are clenched into fists. I uncurl my fingers, although the muscles in my hands feel as tense as before. Before standing, I draw a number of deep breaths.

“Wake up, little one,” I say. “We have much to accomplish this day.”

The little imp sits up, squinting at me. “Light hurt Globcow’s eyes very much. Put light away please.”

I hand the demon his sunglasses.

“Thank you,” the demon says. “Globcow forget about magic eye coverings.”

“They are not magic, little one,” I say. “However, I can show you real magic, if you wish.”

“Yes, yes! Globcow like magic very much. Sometimes Overdemon Grogotelk pull rabbit out of human skull.”

“Charming. Come join me by the window and you will see the most powerful magic in the Universe.”

The imp hops onto his horse and rides over the window. He stares outside.

“Flying food,” he whispers, grinning.

“Remember, little one, in the Attics we do not devour human souls. These souls might appear to be little more than trifling wisps of light. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Souls give meaning to our existence, and to the existence of the Universe itself. If that is not true magic, I do not know what is.” I gaze at the waltzing lights. “As angels, our purpose is to guide as many souls as possible to the Maker’s Womb. Do you want to know what is funny?”

“Globcow like jokes very much.”

“It is not a joke exactly, but once you hear the truth about the Universe, you might laugh. The truth, little one, is that once we succeed in our great mission, once we return a sufficient amount of souls to the Womb, the Maker will simply send them out into the mortal realm again so that we might gather them again.”

“Angels play soul game with Maker?”

“I have never thought of our great mission in those terms, but yes, it is very much like a game. Without human souls, there would be no reason to play the game. No reason to exist. For that, we must treat our mortal brothers and sisters with the respect they deserve. We must do everything in our power to guide them into paradise. Do you understand?”

“Globcow think so.”

“Good. Now let us move on to the next lesson, shall we?”

My little imp learns the lesson, and the next, and the next.

At last, the day arrives when I feel that he is ready.

“Are you sure about this, Zab?” Gethlaridge says, peeking through the open blinds of her window. “We don’t want to field test a demon before all his kinks are worked out.”

I interlace my fingers. “I am unequivocally positive that he is fit for service, Madam.”

The Archangel turns to me, smoke trickling up her lips. “In that case, I’ll be happy to sign off on this. I’ll find him a suitable case and you can take him to the realm tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Madam.” I stand.

“Oh, and before you go. I’ll be sending out official announcements later today, but I’m dying to tell somebody. I proposed to Coronorth this morning. We’re getting married next month.”

Coronorth and Geltharidge have been courting for the past three thousand years, and so their engagement should come as no surprise. And yet, a gasp of shock escapes my lips and permeates the room.

“I am delighted to offer you my sincere congratulations, Madam.”

“Thanks, Zab. Me and Coro should’ve tied the knot centuries ago, but you know how these things go. You get used to a certain way of things, and then you’re afraid that if you change anything, you’ll ruin it. Anyway, care for a drink? In honor of the special occasion?”

“I must respectfully decline. I fear I have someplace to be.”

“Well. Thanks again for working so hard on this case. I’m sure it wasn’t easy living with a demon.”

“It was surprisingly painless, Madam.”

“No pitchforks in the bum then?”

“None at all, Madam.”

Upon returning to my Attic, I transmogrify my window into a gilded mirror with an elaborate carving of a female bust, cherubs, and flowering vines.

I turn to my apprentice, who is currently entertaining himself with a game of hide-and-seek with his horse. “Come here, little one.”

He stands next to me in front of the mirror, and makes funny faces at his reflection.

“I know I said you could play for the rest of the evening, but I have important news. Therefore, I need you to concentrate on what I am saying. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes, yes.” The demon looks up at me.

I place a finger on the imp’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, little one, we will descend together to the mortal realm. You will be tested, and if you succeed in your mission, you will be granted angel status.”

The hellion’s grin widens.

“When you descend, it might become necessarily for you to show yourself to a human being. Therefore, it would behoove you to first alter your appearance to a form more agreeable to the human psyche.”

“Globcow wear mask?”

“No, when you are in the Attics, you have the power to change your shape with thought alone. You can take any form that you can image. I know that I promised you more playtime, but for the next thirty minutes, I would like you to practice modifying your appearance in front of the mirror. Do you have any objections to this?”

“No, no. Change shape sound fun.”

I return to my desk to catch up on my paperwork. Thirty minutes later, I turn to the mirror and discover that my ward has transformed himself into a creature more hideous than any demon I have ever laid eyes upon. His nose is a ball of crimson flesh. His thick red lips curve up in an exaggerated grin that stops just below his blackened eyes. As for his clothing, he wears a patchwork jumpsuit, which appears to be constructed out of dyed skin.

“What have you done to yourself?” I say.

“Globcow clown,” the imp says. “Humans like clowns very much.” 

“That…that they do, little one.”

“Globcow have playtime now?”

“Yes. You can practice more tomorrow.”

“Thank you very much!” The demon’s smile grows so that the corners of his mouth actually touch his bottom eyelids.

“For now, you might want to restore your body to its natural state. You do not want to risk straining your faculties.”

Thankfully, the imp heeds my advice.

That night, after I settle into bed, my body quakes as if with fear, and yet I am not afraid. My chest constricts. Tears pour from my eyes. Ordinarily, I am a being of cool head and tranquil heart. Therefore, this puerile display of emotion comes as quite a shock to me. As mortified as I am by my behavior, I cannot seem to find a way to cease my blubbering.

“Why you sad?” my ward says.

“I…I do not know,” I say.

The demon hops up onto my bed. He sits beside me in silence, touching my hand with his frail fingers.

After a few moments, I notice tears streaming down the imp’s cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” I say.

“You cry make Globcow cry,” he says, sniffling.

I cannot recall the last time another being wept for me. It is more than likely that before now, no one in the Universe ever has.

As a warm tingling spreads throughout my chest, I force my mind into unconsciousness.

In time, I find myself sitting before the desk in Geltharidge’s office. The scent of manure and rotting meat caresses my nostrils. I glance around in search of Geltharidge, but she is nowhere to be found. Standing, I am struck by the feeling that Geltharidge is hiding from me in the Maker’s Womb. I do not know why she thinks she can escape me, but the thought causes me to growl.