‘I don’t think we should continue to see each other,’ I said stiffly. ‘It’s quite clear to me that you have a compulsive lying disorder. It probably relates to some kind of repressed childhood trauma. I’ve read about these things, you know. It’s all psychological. I would advise you to seek help. All you’ve ever done is lie to me. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard about this so-called religious War or the Antichrist from anyone but you; I’m half inclined to believe that you were making it all up to impress me.’
‘That would be a very dangerous thing to do,’ Stephomi warned, quietly.
‘You’re jealous of her, aren’t you?’ I said, realisation dawning.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Stephomi asked, watching me with a strange look on his face.
‘You’re jealous of Casey.’
‘Why should I be jealous of her?’ he asked me patiently, like someone humouring a madman.
‘Because of me!’ I said gleefully. The thought gave me this happy, selfish little glow inside. ‘I really needed you before I met her, didn’t I? You just loved it, didn’t you? All that attention. I relied solely on you for companionship, advice, answers about my past
… And then I started spending more time with Casey and less with you, and you decided you’d come round here and tell me another story about my past to get me interested again. It’s not a dead family this time, it’s a lonely orphan. How stupid do you think I am? You need me far more than I need you now. I’m not interested in the past any more, Stephomi. I know that my family were real. I can feel it. I don’t need anyone to prove it to me. And there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me doubt that.’
‘Have it your own way,’ Stephomi said, shrugging easily. ‘But don’t be too quick to dismiss me, my friend, for you might need me in what’s to come, and then you might regret what you’ve said.’
‘What’s to come!’ I repeated derisively. ‘Assuming that there is anything to come, I will just pray to God if I need help.’
‘ Prayer! ’ Stephomi practically spat the word. It was the first time this evening that I had seen him show annoyance. ‘Christ, Gabriel, how can you be so naive? When has prayer ever worked? Do you know what happens to people when they pray? They draw attention to their own sins and God punishes them. He sends plagues, He sends floods — ’
‘You’re still doing it! You’re still lying!’
‘I don’t need to lie about God to make Him sound like a cruel, selfish bastard!’ Stephomi snapped. ‘People suffer and die pointlessly every day, Gabriel, every day! I tell you it would be a relief to go to Hell after this; it would be a relief! What about Noah’s Ark? The whole world had been praying for salvation and how did God reward their prayers? By drowning them all. Apart from Noah, of course, but then he had to live with what he’d seen and done for the rest of his life, and he ended up wishing he’d died with the rest of them. It’s the same tired old story — you pray to God, you get kicked in the fucking teeth. Anyone who can pledge allegiance to a God like that disgusts me! You’re just a lot of fucking brainless sheep! You can’t even conceive of the possibility that God’s a sick, selfish bastard, can you?’
‘Shut up!’ I said angrily, finding my tongue at last. ‘Shut up, shut up! ’
To my surprise, Stephomi fell silent — breathing deeply, collecting himself, as if he’d said more than he’d meant to. I’d never seen his control waver like that before. It unsettled me. What kind of a person could talk about God in such a way anyway? Just hearing it made me feel like twisting his damn head off.
‘I’m… I’m sorry, Gabriel’ he said with an effort. ‘I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to your faith. I’ll go if you want. But I’m telling you the truth about yourself, however much you might have preferred the lies. Nicky and Luke were a beautiful dream, but that’s all they ever were.’
‘All right, all right,’ I said, waving my hand dismissively, just wanting to be rid of him. ‘Look, you were there for me when I needed you and I won’t forget that. So I’ll help you with this, okay? This lying disorder you have. We’ll go and see a psychiatrist or something. Together we can… we can…’ I faltered, my attention caught by the large mirror on the wall across from me. The burning man was there, staring out at me, his blue eyes blazing as fire rained down about him. And then, in another moment, he was gone and a name appeared written in fiery gold on the mirror’s surface: Stephomi. Unable to help myself, I glanced at my friend, who turned his own gaze sharply towards the mirror; but it seemed that Stephomi was not a party to this particular mirror vision for he turned back to me with an exasperated, ‘What is it now?’
I forced my gaze back to the mirror and, as I watched, the letters of my friend’s name rearranged themselves until at last there was an altogether different name burning like fire on the mirror before me: Mephisto.
I turned back to the man standing in front of me, horror written all over my face, determined to speak, to question, to demand an explanation as to why the letters of his surname were an anagram of the name of one of the most notorious demons of all time: one of the Seven Princes of Hell, and the Devil’s second in command himself. But the expression on my face must have given me away, for it was Mephistopheles who spoke first.
‘Oh dear. I believe Michael might have just taken matters into his own hands and exposed me. I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that, Gabriel, as if you hardly knew me at all.’
‘Why?’ I managed, staring at the demon with revulsion. ‘Why the pretence and the lies and the deceiving? Why pretend to be my friend like that?’
‘What deception?’ Mephistopheles asked pleasantly. ‘There has been no pretence or lies from me.’
‘Get away from me, you filthy… you disgusting creature!’ I spat, instinctively staggering back a few steps.
I saw the demon’s mouth tighten angrily. ‘Now, Gabriel, let’s not react too childishly about all this,’ Mephisto said coldly. ‘I’m the same person I was before. I like you, you know — even if you can be a self-righteous, pompous pain-in-the-fucking-arse at times — always whining about morality or Godly virtues or Lucifer or anything else you can fucking think of. But to my surprise, I have enjoyed keeping you company. I kept Captain Hosenfeld company too — you remember him, don’t you? Szpilman’s brave rescuer. Do you know how God rewarded his bravery, Gabriel? By sending Russians to capture him and torture him for years and years after the war ended, until at last he died in a cold, miserable little cell, broken, alone and unwept for. That’s hardly fair, is it? The only kind words he ever heard during those seven years were spoken by me.
‘As for this imminent apocalyptic problem we’ll soon have, I’m sure you’ll do the right thing when the time comes. I’ve never known a person so constantly inwardly preoccupied with morality. I will just remind you, though, that the disgust you feel for me now didn’t exist before you found out I was one of Lucifer’s angels. I had nurtured a faint hope that if you came to know me with no prejudices clouding your mind from the outset, you might come to feel a little differently about the angel/demon divide. After all, if my kind really were so vile, you would think you would have seen through me, whatever form I happened to be in.
‘You were forsaken by God and his army. When you were here in Budapest, friendless and alone, did any of God’s angels come to your aid? Did they make any effort to take the edge from the loneliness that was tearing at you from the inside? Like it or not, Gabriel, it was Lucifer, not God, who sent an angel to you to pull you back from the brink of madness. You owe the Devil your sanity, my friend. How does that feel?’
I stared at him, feeling like I was going to be sick. How had this happened? How had this happened? How had I let myself be tricked by him? The idea that I had eaten and drunk with a demon; that I had welcomed a demon into my home as a friend… The very idea sickened me and my stomach shrivelled nauseatingly at the horror of it.