Chapter Nineteen: Adramelech

We could only go so low. Sachiel had to be acclimated to Hell, much like deep diving into the ocean. If we went too fast, the crushing pressure and gravitational pull of negative energy would deep-fry his brain and nothing would be left of his consciousness. He wanted to see the bottom. He wanted to know how it all worked since he finally could see it where he was once blind. Even though it was painful, it was still a brand new world.

I decided to bring him to Guadalajara, Mexico. The lower levels of Hell there were better established and seemed easy for tourists to visit. Even in the afterlife, people love visiting Mexico. I didn't mind giving him a tour, either. It was actually something I was keen to see myself. Azazel "stepped down" and "quit" being the Prince of Darkness shortly after the time of Christ. Since then, I've "taken over" the mundane doings of Hell and reorganized the function of the dimensional plane. I do things like a corporation, with structure and rank. And I wanted a closer look at Guadalajara to see how it was doing. It was a sort of impulsive choice, like how an executive does a surprise drop-by to a company store.

Traditionally, there are nine choirs of angels. Sachiel was a cherubim, the second highest order after the seraphim. When I inherited this great behemoth mess of a dimension after Azazel fucked off, I structured the management of Hell after the nine choirs. I appointed kings, princes, dukes and marquis to help me organize. I made different demons earls and presidents. I just started handing out titles left and right. I wanted to make some kind of order out of the chaos by giving different entities authority and purpose. So, it didn't seem like having Sachiel as my appointed assistant for right now was too crazy of an idea. Maybe I did need a competent secretary that wasn't a stupid demon. It only added to my identity as a manager, because I did what Azazel never did as Hell's ruler. I took responsibility and some accountability for being the devil.

When we first arrived, I showed Sachiel the city streets on Earth. We watched as traffic buzzed and the stench of hot asphalt filled the atmosphere. I watched the gentle sway of palm trees on every street corner. The points of a great cathedral was peeking out just over the rooftops. I was going to lower the vibration and enter Hell slowly, gradually bringing us to reality's sewer system. We glided through Guadalajara's marketplace, the colored tents and cacophony of sounds passed us by. We could almost feel the radioactive burn of the afternoon sun above. I knew he had never been here so I just wanted to let him take it all in real quick first.

I then lowered our vibration a little so we entered the levels of dream-Guadalajara. It was almost like Guadalajara in reality on Earth, but everything was just sort of twisted a little. The sun was at a constant twilight state and the sinister creeping of negativity were more prominent. I love visiting dream-Guadalajara because it is such a strange place. It is smaller than the Guadalajara on Earth with a population of half a million. It is also at a higher altitude and a little closer to lake Chapala. Like all dream places, dream-Guadalajara is largely shaped by people's perception of it, and then greatly exaggerated.

I wanted to show him everything from the top down. Although Sachiel was now one of us, there was still the pleasure of taking what was left of Heaven from him and destroying it. It was a deed that I alone got to take pleasure in and I certainly did not want to relinquish that experience to anyone else. I knew to start him easy, start him slow. I swiftly cruised through dream-Guadalajara and lowered our vibration just a tad. I wanted to give him just a sample taste of Hell.

I decided to take him to a piece of shit I knew simply because he was conveniently close by-- we were going Miguel Herrera's house. I drove us smoothly to give him a feel as if we were in a bright red sports car. I love sports cars, it is a dream to hear the warm buzz of the motor and the smell of the leather seats. I projected the feel of something like a Maserati convertible. I wanted Sachiel to feel the hot, dry wind in his hair as we dove down city streets. I wanted him to have a good time. We zipped by humans so quickly they were just a blur of energy. They couldn't see or perceive us, but I knew each and every one of them.

On the way to Miguel's house, we passed by Jose, Laura, and Juan. I had all of their files meticulously cataloged. I knew who all of these dirtbags were. I had their contracts in my system. I took Sachiel up and down the alleyways of Guadalajara, partly for nostalgia. There wasn't a mortal that I forgot. However, it was about time I visited Miguel, at least for old time's sake.

I stopped the car in front of his house and immediately got out of the car I manifested, slamming the door. We were in Hell, not on Earth, and everything was run down, dirty, and coated in a layer of filth. We were out of the sight of God and thus nothing was nice or good. Sachiel attempted to get out of the car. It was funny to watch him, as if the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He wobbled on his legs and supported his head in his palm. I took him by surprise by not telling him where we were going or that we were going by manifested muscle car. I am sure he felt jerked around. Yet, since he drank my coffee/blood, I had a certain amount of control over Sachiel. All I had to do was wear him down.

"What's this?" he asked, motioning to Miguel's house. It reminded me of a scene from a Dickens novel, as if we were the ghosts of Christmas past paying a visit.

"I thought I'd take you out to lunch," I responded casually. "This piece of shit has several contracts with me and owes me plenty of negative energy, not that I'm hurting."

Miguel's house was squashed in between a tight row of houses. The sun was distant and nothing but shadows and cold air pushed through the streets. Children were playing outside, and I could hear and smell chickens from a nearby street vendor. It looked like an average day in an average Mexican city to the untrained eye. Yet, we were in the upper crust layers Hell and I was going to introduce Sachiel to the dark side.

"Nice car," said Sachiel, motioning to the convertible behind us, but I ignored him. I didn't need his approval, because he was a pray animal I would soon devour. I also didn't need to knock or ring the bell, since I wasn't going to transubstantiate into flesh. I got Miguel's contract back when he was a police officer, and sold himself for bribe money. I walked in, up the stone steps right through the front door.

These days, it appears he was forced into retirement early. His house stank of his brand of cigarettes and he and his family were in the kitchen. I didn't need to be invited in by permission, since I knew Miguel's entire family tree quite intimately and for a long time. I knew more than half of the human souls on Earth very, very well. Anyone who called on, prayed to, would trade anything for, or simply wanted money. Money is my system's bread and butter. I wanted Sachiel to get accustomed to the magic of money, since it was the key to my success as the Devil.

I immediately felt the vibration. I was growing hungrier and more irritable by the minute. If I had a body to salivate, I would have been salivating like a dog. I just didn't want Sachiel to see. I didn't want my gluttony to be obvious to screw my chances in devouring him, but I had to eat. I had to eat even though there is a constant machine in the deeper levels of Hell constantly feeding my consciousness. I was going to show him. I was going to show him my feeding machine, because he was soon going to be absorbed and become a part of it. It just had to happen in stages. However, I could never be sated. I still wanted to drop by and feed off of Miguel and his misery in person. It was time.

I wasn't wearing a flesh suit to see Miguel with eyes, so all I could perceive was his energy. I couldn't see what he looked like or if he gained some weight. I couldn't see his wife's tears or the miserable faces of his children.

I could feel the low vibrations in the atmosphere. It was like the barometric pressure dropped dramatically and the energy had been sucked from the room to form a hurricane. Miguel was on another of his tirades. He had his family huddled in the kitchen, terrified of him. I took Sachiel with me in the corner to watch. For the sake of my new fallen brother, I tried to control my appearance. Sachiel was still looking mostly like a good-guy angel, except his hair was now noticeably redder. He would have to actively expend his energy if he wanted to look toe-headed blonde again. The good Lord made it so we always had a visible 'tell' of whose side we were on. I myself decided to wear a sharp, crisp white suit jacket and pants. I kept my collared shirt unbuttoned to the middle. I kept my beastly appearance to a bare minimum to look presentable. I had my hair a fire engine red and sat down in a rickety wooden chair. The family wasn't able to see us or perceive our presences in any way, not that it mattered. They were in my domain where, as long as Azazel wasn't around-- I remained king.

"You're stupid!" Miguel screamed at his wife. "a stupid, fat, idiotic cow who can't cook-- you call this food?" he screamed. I absorbed it. I absorbed his negative energy and quietly encouraged him to do more. It wasn't my ideas, I was just amplifying what was already there in his head. Miguel was an easy engine to crank. I barely had to do anything. Miguel took a plastic plate from the table and threw it threateningly towards his wife. It was a warped, uneven plate and Miguel couldn't aim so it just bounced off the wall and clattered pathetically on the cement floor.

"What's all this?" Sachiel asked at the scene unfolding, mildly horrified. "are we in Hell already?" he asked. I didn't answer immediately because his naivety amused me and I had to keep myself from laughing audibly. How could an entity just as old as I am know so little? It had been a long time since I had been in Heaven, of course, and nowhere was entirely static. Heaven was a high vibrational dimension where all of time was existing in a single moment. Sachiel was likely in the lower rings of Heaven and living with a happy little family, and literally wasn't seeing or feeding off of assholes like Miguel. I had to remind myself that Sachiel was basically a very stupid immortal, timeless, all powerful entity and I must be very patient with him.

"What's he doing?" Sachiel asked. It was obvious what Miguel was doing. He had done this a million times before, just as his father did. He was repeating the cycle of abuse, as they say. I didn't want to explain it all to him-- he knew exactly what was going on, it was just his first day. He had never experienced it in person before. We were going to feed off of the explosive energy Miguel was detonating. I promised him lunch.

I reached out and gently patted the back of Sachiel's hand. With my other hand, I reached into a small rip in reality. I manifested a yellow manila folder filled with paper. Reams and reams of paper, documented perfectly with exact accounting of everything. I stood up from my chair and casually tossed the file over my shoulder. The 'papers' scattered everywhere, splashing onto the ground as Miguel continued to loudly abuse his family. He was screaming so loud that his neighbors above him could hear. I could feel the neighbor's feeling of helplessness, since Miguel was a cop. I was amused as Sachiel was forced to crouch down and scramble to collect the papers so he could absorb the information.

The information I was offering Sachiel was Miguel Herrera-Lopez's soul file-- not to be confused with his father, though I had his, too. Their family had a long history with me. I take great pride in being efficient and organized.

"This is Miguel's file, take a look at it," I said casually as Sachiel hilariously continued picking it up. It wasn't confidential or anything, not if I decide it isn't. In Miguel's file, I had precisely accounted every discrepancy he had. Long, long ago his family decided that money and prestige was more important than love or family. This was expressed in Miguel's decision to become a cop, just like his dad. He wasn't doing it for the love of his community and keeping people safe. He joined the forces because Miguel felt like he needed to control his environment. Everything scared him, especially his inner urges. I had laid out every detail in his file for Sachiel to read.

Miguel unrepentantly chose negative actions to avoid his life's lesson. He was ashamed of himself and who he was, and every day that passed he strayed further and further away. I could feel Sachiel read it all, including the parts where Miguel knew he was at least partially attracted to people with masculine appearances. To avoid that feeling, he hunted down those like him with those urges and specifically beat them while acting as police. On one occasion, he took sexual favors and then killed the man. No one ever uncovered Miguel's crime.

To make matters more complicated, Miguel and his linage were devout Catholics. He went to church every Sunday, and donated much of his money and protection services to the church. I know, because I followed and documented every peso. Money made everything easy and straight forward to follow and record. Miguel figured that if he abused his free will and did as he wanted, that he could just easily repent at the confessional and continue to annihilate all sense of love and God around him. It made a system of a revolving door of evil and I just kept the tally on the record. Sachiel finished reading, but by no means even made a dent in the file. He looked up to me and then to Miguel.

Miguel was resorting to physical abuse. I knew that it had very little to do with his wife, Violetta, or his children. He was upset because his department was forcing him into early retirement over a bribe. He was upset because he had feelings for one of his coworkers, who wasn't someone who was female presenting. He was upset because he was out of money due to his gambling and drinking habits. For every time he lifted his hand and struck Violetta was yet another reason he hated himself.

I fed off of the explosive dust of his energies and allowed whatever scraps were left to Sachiel. I was now no longer crazy with hunger and I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to go somewhere lower. I wanted to eventually show Sachiel my brilliant food machine. I wanted to change our names to Dante and Virgil and have kind of an adventure.