31.4

 

“Something must have changed.” Roisin looks up at Astaroth. “Could you have stopped him from taking it?”

“Maybe.” Astaroth shrugs. “It was an interesting twist I didn’t see coming at all.”

The rooms erupts into a cacophony of voices, with all of them shouting questions and accusations at him. Roisin feels a deep pit in her belly. She has been betrayed by the only angel she had trusted. Paul is asking him why he didn’t save her; Steve is asking about the twist – if there’s a twist Astaroth hadn’t foreseen, that implies there was a plot in place to be twisted. The assistant seems to be praying and Steve is staring at Astaroth with such venom in his eyes that she’s surprised it doesn’t exude from his pores. The Nephilim, Namaan, has gone so silent it feels deafening. He has retreated from Roisin’s consciousness and seems to be gathering himself together.

Astaroth waits until they have all finished yelling and shouting and then, when there is final a lull in which to interject, holds both hands palm outwards, as if in compliance in an old Western movie. He seems neither pleased with himself, nor defensive, just calm. Only then does Roisin notice there is a change in him, though she can’t quite identify what it might be. He seems… more sure of himself than he did previously.

Roisin speaks first, incredulous at the manipulation she has been subjected to. “You… let Hasmed take it?”

Astaroth meets her eyes. “In a way. I promise I didn’t expect that to happen. Some things really can’t be planned for, it seems. I honestly thought you would dismantle his grasp of the logic of creation. One of those ‘if… then’ loops your people are so generally subject to.”

Steve steps forward, puzzlement replacing the anger, at least momentarily. “If… then loops? You mean in computer programming?”

Astaroth waves on hand dismissively. “If you say so. I was actually referring to the way you people react with very predictable answers to and set value of decision. ‘If I buy Janet a mean, then she’ll feel obliged to have sex with me,’ or ‘If I put a brick through this window I can take that telly home with me.’”

“I’m not sure that’s something we all do.” Roisin stood, her jeans now cold and clammy where she’d soiled herself. “Some people, yes, I’ll grant you that. What did you expect to happen when Hasmed confronted me?”

“I expected you to kill him. That’s why I gave you the mantle of knowledge in the first place. You should have been able to anticipate every action and counter action he would make. I did not expect you to be compassionate. That was something I hadn’t considered at all.” He shakes his head. More at his own thoughts that at any of them. “You think you know mortals and suddenly they go the wrong way through the slaughterhouse.”

The Nephilim’s awareness flares in horror. “You used her. You manipulated and used her.”

Astaroth raises and lowers his hands in imitation of a set of balance scales. “I used the moment. Not her specifically. As I said, I expected Roisin to win.” He nods in her direction, a smile playing across his lips. “As indeed you did, or would have done, had you followed the architecture as predicted.”

“How could I have defeated the Angel if Annihilation? How did I defeat him?”

Astaroth takes a seat again. There is still no chair, but his knees bend, his waist bends and he shifts his weight back exactly as though there was a seat and back rest to support him. “Have you ever played ‘Mancala?’”

Roisin’s brow furrows. She knows the name, but she’s never been one for playing games. It comes from being an only child and having no-one to compete with. She shakes her head but Paul pipes up. “The one with the cups and the beans? I’ve played it. There’s a third century board carved into the city walls in Gedera, where the Roman legionnaires would have had sentry duty.” He looks at Roisin. “Basically, there are five cups on each side of the board and you place beans clockwise, one in each cup. If the last bean lands in a cup that already has beans, you have another go. You get to keep the contents of any cup that finishes with exactly five beans.”

Astaroth’s brow has furrowed during this recitation. And he holds one hand up like a policeman directing traffic when Paul pauses. “More or less. There are hundreds of variants and house rules. Nevertheless, it serves to illustrate my point. Imagine the beans are souls, and that’s roughly what has happened with the power balance. I created a void in the echelons of Elohim and used it to lever myself into a more favourable position. I didn’t anticipate Hasmed recovering from his meltdown so fast that he could feel the vacuum and take advantage of it.”