The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,9

thought inside the minds of every living creature, from the very beginning of time until the very end.” Gabriel paused a moment, to let his words sink in. “It is omniscience. In paperback form.”

“I can see why you’d want that back.”

“Indeed. With the book in the hands of our enemies, there is nothing they could not do. No one they could not corrupt. Nowhere they could not conquer. Knowledge is power, and the Book of Everything contains all the knowledge in existence. In the wrong hands, it is the deadliest weapon in all of creation.”

Zac whistled through his teeth. “So, that’s why they call it the Book of Doom.”

“Correct,” said Gabriel. “In their hands it could indeed doom us all.”

“If the book tells them everything, won’t they know I’m coming?”

“Almost certainly,” Gabriel admitted. “I never said it was going to be easy. There’s every chance you will not make it back.”

“You’re not really selling the idea,” Zac said.

“I am nothing if not honest,” Gabriel said, although Zac seriously doubted that. “And you are dead, remember? Either way you are going to Hell. At least our way there’s a chance, however slim, that you will be able to return.”

Zac found himself thinking about his grandfather, all alone in that big house with only a hyperactive goldfish and the voices in his head for company.

“Right. So, what does it look like, this book?” he asked, forcing himself back to the matter at hand.

“We don’t know.”

Zac frowned. “Well, when was it taken?”

“We don’t know that, either,” Gabriel said, giving a shrug of his slender shoulders. “It’s all rather complicated, I’m afraid.”

“Apparently I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. Uncomplicate it.”

Gabriel gave a single nod. “Of course.” He stood up and rolled his chair into position beneath the table, then rested his hands on the chair’s leather back.

“The Book of Everything can take many forms,” he began. “I, for example, may see it as a small, compact paperback. You may see it as a leather-bound tome. Some may look upon the book and see a carving on a stone tablet, or scribbles in a spiral-bound notebook, or – Lord help us – one of those awful electronic reading devices. Or even something else entirely. The branch of a tree, perhaps. Or a small flan. Nobody knows how they’ll see it until they see it.”

“Then how am I supposed to find it?” Zac asked.

“Because you will know it, when you see it. We shall grant you that ability. There will be no glimmer of doubt in your mind.”

“Fair enough. You said you didn’t know when it was stolen,” Zac prompted.

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I,” said Gabriel. He walked over to the pot plant and cupped one of its leaves in his hands. Another flower burst into bloom further along the stalk. The angel bent, sniffed the flower’s yellow and pink petals, then nodded his approval.

“OK, well, let’s narrow it down,” said Zac, when he realised no more information was forthcoming. “When did you last see it?”

“Yesterday.”

Zac felt himself frown again. It was becoming a habit. “So... obviously someone took it in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Not necessarily,” Gabriel explained, turning back to face him. “The Book of Everything exists outside of time. In many ways, I suppose, you could say that it is time. I saw it yesterday, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t taken a thousand years ago. Or tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand,” admitted Zac.

“No. It’s not an easy one to get your head around, is it? We tried explaining it to Albert Einstein once, shortly after he got here. He’s been having a lie-down in a darkened room ever since. Whimpering into a pillow, by all accounts.” Gabriel flashed his politician-smile again. “So let’s not go into too much detail. Suffice to say the book has been taken at some point and that right now it is in the possession of Hell and all its minions.”

The door opened and Michael strode in. Zac saw a subtle look pass between the angels, and the briefest of nods from the one in the armour.

Gabriel took his seat again, while Michael remained standing behind him. Both angels looked expectantly at Zac.

“Our offer is this,” said Gabriel, clasping his hands together. “You find the book and bring it to us, and we wipe the slate clean. A fresh start. You are returned to life, and all your sins are forgiven.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you will still go to Hell, but as a prisoner of Satan,