Authors: James Suriano
Lucifer bounded for the water like a gazelle, his feet gliding over the surface at the first gallops into the sea, then disappeared into the swirling currents and waves. A few moments later, he resurfaced in the exact spot where Gavin had watched the girl’s hand being swallowed up. He treaded water and held her body above the salty, roiling, blue sea. He propped her up with his arm, the muscles in his broad back flexing, and swam to shore like an Olympic swimmer before beaching her on the sand. As soon as he flipped her onto her stomach and whacked her back, she sputtered back to life. She lifted her face, which was masked in sand, and rolled to her side. Lucifer looked up at Gavin, who was calling the EMTs to the attention of the girl, and nodded. When he stood up, his white linen pants were nearly transparent, the striations of his legs rippling through.
“The Setai Penthouse. Meet me there in fifteen minutes,” Lucifer told Gavin as he turned and headed toward Ocean Drive.
The Setai wouldn’t garner the attention of the casual tourist. It was just another glimmering tower of glass in the landscape of mega skyscrapers that lined the barrier island. But to locals it housed an elusive penthouse. If it hadn’t been the most expensive piece of real estate in South Beach, or if the buyer had finally come forward, three years after the tower had been constructed and sold, it might have been forgotten in the gossip mill that churned day and night. But this was South Beach, where money poured in from the Middle East and South America, swirling together with a corrupt American culture to fuel a continual party of drugs, sex, and power. Sunrises and sunsets were ignored as mere moving artwork in the sky. The background noise at the Setai was the constant shuttle of helicopter traffic landing on the helipad, which hung over the side of the building, held by an enormous sculpted hand. The rumors surrounding the owner’s motivations for this ostentatious display of art vacillated from the owner taking a great interest in the ancient Greek games to wielding a sign of power over those who landed within the owner’s hand, thus playing on his territory before they even disembarked from their aircraft.
The helicopters came at all hours, all days, some hovering while waiting for another to depart. US Air Traffic Control was silent on the matter, sworn to official secrecy. Anyone who said they knew who was coming and going didn’t, and those who knew said they didn’t.
Gavin made his way to the elevator bank and punched the button marked “PH.” Elevator One opened, and he stepped on. The elevator began to descend, and he looked at the panel to reenter his intended destination. When the elevator stopped, the display indicated he was on Level LL3. “Please make your way to Elevator Eight,” a female voice said. Gavin stepped off and looked around at the elevator lobby, which was identical to the one on which he had entered, except this one had an elevator with an “8” over it. The doors were open, and the walls inside the elevator pulsed turquoise blue. He stepped inside. His name came up on the screen, welcoming him to Lucifer’s home. Within five seconds, the elevator ascended to the thirty-eighth floor, and the doors opened. When he stepped out, he stood on a small patch of terrace outside, staring straight over the Atlantic. He never had viewed the ocean from this vantage point before, and it was breathtaking. He felt like he could step out into the open sky and float above the expanse of topaz ocean. The space was humbling and reached to what looked like the end of the earth, where the ocean and sky met.
Gavin had grown up in Florida City, his father a crooked cop shuttling goods for the local mob boss. His mother was loving and quiet. She didn’t ask questions and poured her affection and attention onto her children and the family’s small house. When Gavin’s sister, Emily, died suddenly from a heart defect, two days before Gavin’s tenth birthday, she fell apart. When Gavin started asking questions about where his sister had gone, his mother, teetering on the thin line between grief and depression, took him to Father Jake’s office. She couldn’t answer her son’s questions and was hoping a man of God could.
“It’s the reason I fell in love with the place.” Lucifer was standing behind Gavin with his hand outstretched, his smile breaking through the intense sun.
“I…” Gavin started to reply then realized he had nothing to say.
“Probably not in the priorities of a minister.”
“I’m a pastor.”
Lucifer shrugged. “Since when are titles important?”
He showed Gavin through a set of glass walls that were parted to make an entrance. The living area was swathed in white leather and fur, and Gavin imagined his mother’s bichon frise being mistaken for a throw pillow here. The woman from the restroom was lounging on one of the couches, fully occupied by the thick Tiffany catalog she was slowly flipping through.
“My good friend, Carmen,” Lucifer said as he walked by her.
“Nice to meet you,” Gavin said.
She didn’t look up or take any notice that they were there.
“Drink?” Lucifer waved his hand in front of the full bar.
“Scotch.”
“A preacher who drinks. I like that.”
“Pastor,” Gavin corrected him.
“P-a-s-t-o-r.” Lucifer mouthed it out slowly and silently as he dropped the ice cubes into the glass and poured the dark, rich, amber-colored Scotch over them. “Enjoy,” he said, as he handed him the glass.
Gavin took a sip. It tasted like liquid love.
“Where did you get this?”
“France. The prime minister brings it to me when he visits. Nothing like it, eh?”
He led Gavin through the master suite to the side of the building where the sun was blocked and the humid air was washed away by the ocean currents circling through the buildings.
“I prefer the cold inside, but I thought this might be more comfortable for you.” Lucifer took a seat on the long chaise and stretched out his legs. He had changed into a tuxedo, minus the jacket. His black patent-leather shoes looked out of place in the casual surroundings of white sand and tanned bodies. “Oh, these, you’re wondering? The opera is in a few hours, and I have a particularly boring cocktail party to attend first.”
Gavin looked away from his shoes as though he hadn’t been thinking the question that had just been answered.
“But why are you here, Gavin? And why stalk me with such brash, unencumbered enthusiasm?” He raised his cocktail glass in the air. “Cheers.”
Carmen sauntered onto the terrace and sat down next to Gavin. “I hope you don’t mind. This is where I think it’s going to get really good.”
“My son,” Gavin said matter-of-factly.
“Could you be more specific?”
“He’s tormented. He tells me he sees demons and hears voices. I’m not sure how much longer he can continue like this.”
“And you think I have something to do with this?” Lucifer looked skeptical and annoyed.
“You’re the head honcho down there, right?” Gavin asked.
“Down there,” Lucifer repeated, chuckling to himself. “I think there’s somewhat of a misunderstanding here. I have nothing to do with your son. And the fashionable notion that I command a legion of wicked demons set out to torture the human race is as fanciful as Santa Claus sliding down the chimney on Christmas Eve. Really, Gavin, what are they teaching in seminary these days? I’d written those schools off as a lot of uneducated mystics searching for certainty in a lie. But it seems it goes much further.” He sighed, stood up, and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
“So what’s your boy’s name? How old is he?” Carmen was twirling her blond hair. Her see-through gown revealed black lace lingerie beneath and a body made for seduction.
“Joshua. He’s seventeen.”
“Has he been to a doctor?”
“Yes, my wife, Noila, and I have been through all that. For years, in and out of hospitals and treatment centers. Medications make him sleepy, but nothing dulls the voices.”
Carmen shook her head. “Sorry to hear that. It’s hard for me to sympathize, though, since I’m not a mother myself.”
“It’s okay.” Gavin took another sip of his drink. A drop of Scotch dripped onto his pants.
Before she could reply, Lucifer walked back on to the balcony and dropped a small spiral-bound book on Gavin’s lap. On the cover, black letters in Times New Roman read,
The Gospel of Thomas
.
“Ever heard of it?” Lucifer asked.
“Of course. But it’s a heretical gospel. There’s no point in reading it.”
“It might help if you looked it over before we meet next. I suspect you’ll find it more revealing than you might imagine.” Lucifer sat down on the chaise and picked up his drink.
Gavin stared at him, not breaking his gaze. “I wasn’t planning on coming back.”
“You were going to give up? Your son is at his end, and you thought to research me and then…what? Track me down and convince me to cast a demon out of him? Did I disappoint you? I’m not some evil, lurking man hell-bent on the wholesale destruction of human souls.” Lucifer leaned forward and took one of Gavin’s hands in his. “Humor me, will you? Imagine for one second that it isn’t your son who’s in danger, but you, and your son is only a symptom of your great peril. Then think about everything you know about how problems are solved, problems that twist a spirit, wrench a family apart, and grab hold of your son at his inner core and shake him until he cracks and falls into tiny pieces before your eyes. Imagine these lies—the ones you’ve come to bet your eternal existence on—are nothing more than a cosmic blip.” His breath was sweet like lilies, his hands strong and commanding. Gavin wanted to inhale his essence forever.
“I think it was a mistake to come here.” He stood up, pulling his hand away from Lucifer’s and breaking the trance. He stepped inside the master bedroom, noticing the walls appeared icy and metallic. He moved quicker, feeling a cold pulsing vibe move through his body. His stomach turned, and by the time he made his way to the elevator, the Scotch was tumbling around in his gut. Lucifer had followed him and was holding out two antacid pills. “You might need these. I’ll be here tomorrow. Same time? Remember, you promised to hear what I had to say.” He pushed the elevator button for him.
Gavin pushed his glasses up on his nose and held his hand up in protest. “Not interested.”
The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside. Lucifer maintained eye contact as a trickle of urine ran down Gavin’s leg.
“Your son doesn’t have long,” he said. “If he did, you wouldn’t have come here. Do it for him, won’t you?”
Gavin reached Joshua’s school as the digital clock on his dashboard flipped from 3:59 to 4:00. He looked up at the car’s ceiling. “Thank you for no traffic,” he said under his breath. He spotted Joshua scanning the parade of cars edging up against the curb at Fort Lauderdale High School. His hand hovered over the horn, but he knew it would embarrass him, so he waited silently until his son’s eyes spotted the silver Camry. Joshua bounded to the car, his small frame and corkscrew hair bouncing in different directions, giving him the look of a perky, enthusiastic teenager. Gavin looked over to the passenger seat to make sure it was clear before Joshua opened the door. The spiral-bound notebook Lucifer had pitched into his lap was sitting there. He was sure he had left it at Lucifer’s penthouse. Quickly he stashed it under the seat.
“Dad, hey, thanks for picking me up. Can you bring me back here after dinner? There’s another exam practice I’d like to go to.” He bounced into the car and threw his backpack in the rear seat.
“Sure. You sure you’re feeling up to it? This morning seemed a bit rough for you.” Gavin looked at him and ruffled his hair.
“I can still hear the voices, but I’ve been trying really hard to ignore what they say. There’s a new one now…a woman.” He looked at his father for a reaction.
Gavin felt sick. Joshua’s condition was getting worse, not better. He had prayed for his son during every free moment his mind gave him. He worried that his visit with Lucifer today had brought Joshua closer to his demons and that God was now backing away from him since he had entertained God’s archenemy for help.
“It’s not bad. She told me to ignore them. And then I heard her quieting them. Telling them to shut the F up. She has a gutter mouth.” He laughed.
“She’s funny?”
Joshua nodded. “Yeah, she’s pretty funny.”
As they drove toward the house, the sun was just starting to edge behind the tall buildings of downtown.
“Did you go to the beach today?” Joshua said, pointing at the sand on the floorboard.
“Yeah, and I met someone. I mean, I went there to meet someone who might be able to help you. Eventually I think he’ll want to see you.”
“Another minister?” Joshua said with a sigh.
“No.”
“Another shrink?”
“Nope.” Gavin tightened his hands on the wheel and stared straight forward.
“Someone you met on a mission trip?”
“Let’s not play the guessing game. He’s just…well, he can probably help you,” Gavin said, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road.
An elderly driver zoomed out of her driveway without looking, and Gavin slammed on the brakes. “My gosh. What is she thinking?” he said, exasperated.
The notebook slid from under the seat, and Joshua picked it up.