The Weapon - Resurrection - part 13
By Diana the Valkyrie
An afternoon in another church
Update: 01/06/2003 to valkyrie05


I got onto the net, and googled. If you want to know about heaven, you ask a
churchman. So, if you want to know about hell, maybe you ask a
devil-worshipper. I found four devil-worshipping churches in Central London,
and I worked out which one was nearest to St Hildas, got the GPS coordinates,
and told my PDA to work out a route. It only took me half an hour to get
there.

I was expecting something dramatic. Maybe a burning inverted cross, or the
stench of sulphur. Actually, it was a very ordinary-looking house. I parked
the car on a yellow line, trusting to the fact that it was Sunday to protect
me from the wrath of traffic wardens, and went up to the front door. I pushed
the obvious button, and something went "ding dong".

I waited. Nothing happened. Then there was a blood-curdling squawk from inside
the house, as if a thousand banshees were wailing. I pounded with my fist on
the door; the door ignored me. I shouted, "Wendy!" Oh my god, what's she doing
in there! If she is in there, which of course was only a hypothesis ... until
the door opened, and there she was, in full costume, but dripping with blood.

"Hi, David," she said.

"Wendy! What the hell have you been doing? You're covered in ..." I gasped.

She looked down at herself. "Oh. Chicken blood. Come in, David, don't just
stand there."

Chicken blood?

Oh.

I followed her in. "What's been going on, Wendy?" I asked her, but she didn't
answer. She led me into a room lit by flickering candles, heavy with the scent
of incense, and with various mystical symbols woven into the wall-hangings and
on the floor. I grabbed her hand. "Wendy", I hissed. It's difficult to hiss
words without sibilants, but my voice wasn't up to more than a whisper, "what
the hell are you playing at?" She turned to look at me. "That's right, David."
"What?" "Hell."

She turned away from me, and lit another candle. Then she knelt down and
started to pray. "Please look after Duncan and please don't hurt him, it's all
my fault that he sinned, and I'll get there as soon as I can so you can hurt
me instead. Please tell him I'll be with him as soon as I can, and I'm sorry
it took me so long, but I was looking in the wrong place. I've met this nice
man who is going to try to help me find Hell, and I've made him a Korma, which
I think he liked, and I've also introduced him to Marmite. I've left the
restaurant now, I'm staying with David, because he worked out who I was, and
he's asking me loads of questions about everything, he's really interested. He
wants me to go back to being the Guardian of Humanity, but I still can't fly,
so there's no chance of that, even if I wanted to, which I don't think I do.
What do you think I should do? I wish you could tell me."

I suppose it makes sense. She'd sent her message to the wrong place, so now
she was repeating it. I couldn't see what was going on very well; the candles
didn't give much light and were flickering. Plus there was all this water in
my eyes. Why do we do this stuff to each other? And why, especially, do we
inflict it on innocents who don't really have the experience and knowledge to
see what nonsense it all is? For thousands of years, we've been pumping this
stuff into children who are entirely capable of believing in Santa Claus, let
alone God and the Devil. And now we've sucked the Guardian of Humanity into
the swamp of religion.

If Duncan was in Hell, then that's where Wendy wanted to be. This mess was
getting worse and worse. A shiver went up the back of my spine. Wendy engaged
in the Black Arts? Wendy in alliance with the Devil? I tugged on her hand.
"Wendy ..." "Shhh..." she hissed, "quiet. Have some respect, this is a place
of worship." She knelt down. I thought for a second, and then she pushed at
the back of my knees, and I didn't have any choice; I knelt next to her, and
found that she'd already put a hassock down for my knees. Some sort of wizard
was standing on a raised platform, speaking in a language that sounded vaguely
like Latin. Or was it Greek?

For the next three hours I was bored out of my gourd. Again. There's something
about listening to a religious service in a language that you don't
understand, that has very little appeal to me. What's going on? Only the
wizard really knew. So I went back to contemplating Wendy's flight problem,
and I had a couple of ideas that I thought would be worth trying out. Except
with Duncan stuck in Hell, she really wasn't interested in anything else.

Then they came round with the Host, which is a sort of biscuit and some red
liquid, and "eat of the body and blood of Lucifer", so we ate the body and
blood of Lucifer, and the wizard told us we were blessed. The blood tasted
like blood, and I remembered the chicken Wendy had mentioned.

Then at last, the Black Mass was over, and I said to Wendy, "Come on girl,
let's have a chat with the wizard." She followed me up to the lectern where
he'd stood for the service, and I asked him if he could spare half an hour to
talk with us. He gave us a smile, and said "But of course, that's what I'm
here for. Just give me five minutes to get out of these vestments, so I can
look a bit more sensible."

He shooed us into a little office, and we sat in the chairs while we waited.
"What happened with McPherson after I left?" she asked. "You don't want to
know," I replied. "Yes, I do want to know." "Wendy, I'll tell you after we get
home, OK?" She nodded.

The wizard came back, wearing a sweater and jeans, and carrying three steaming
cups. "Let me tempt you?" he said. "Mmm, tea," I said, and Wendy also took a
cup. "Milk?" he offered. "Sugar? And would you like to be really wicked and
have one of these chocolate biscuits?"

We got the tea ceremony out of the way, and we got down to business. "I'm
James Humbold, how can I help you?" he asked. "Well, Wizard ..." I started.
"Call me Jim." A devil worshipping wizard called Jim. Right. OK.

"I'm David. She's the important one here, do you know who she is?" "Er, Wendy,
wasn't it? Wendy Mc, er. " "Rae" "Wendy Ray." "No, Wendy McRae." "Oh, OK."
"But do you know who she is?" "Wendy McRae". I shook my head. "Who's on
first?" said Jim, helpfully. I sighed. "Stand up, Wendy." She stood there,
wearing a slightly bloodstained white-and-gold costume. "She's The Weapon, the
Guardian of Humanity." Jim nodded. "And I'm the Grand Wizard of Satan." "No,
really," I said. "Yes, really," he replied. I sighed. "Now the big question,"
he continued, "is what's on second." "I don't know," I said, with a straight
face.

"Let's start again, and this time let's leave out Abbott and Costello. Wendy
is The Weapon, the Guardian of Humanity. You've heard of that, I guess?" He
nodded. "She's been hiding for the last twenty-three years, because she
couldn't face people after Duncan died. She tried to find comfort in religion,
but that got her into "Duncan is in heaven", and she's spent the last 23 years
desperate to be able to protect him, like she's supposed to, and I need hardly
tell you how much success she had with that. She isn't even sure whether she
has a soul or not."

He nodded again. "So I spotted her where she worked, and realised who she was.
And when I found out about the soul and heaven problem, I got her together
with McPherson and tried to get him to back down on the stuff he's been
telling her. But as soon as he heard they weren't married, he told her that
Duncan was a sinner and must be in hell, and her reaction to that was
absolutely terrible, as you'd expect. He's in hell and it's her fault? And you
know the rest. So now you tell me what happened then."

"McPherson at St Hilda's?" "Yes," I replied, "you heard of him?" "Sure, he's a
friend of mine, we go golfing together."