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‘We are not in Kabul,’ shouted Abaddon, King of Demons, Voice of Lucifer and Chairman of the Board.
In his blood-red robe with gold trim he stood at Lucifer’s right hand, well and truly sick of Mastema’s blatant disregard for protocol. In the centuries since the Board had been formed Mastema had almost never been on time for a meeting, forcing his fellow Lords to wait. The only exceptions had been when he knew the Light Bearer would be in attendance and even then he had cut it perilously close. Mastema had finally slipped and Abaddon almost frothed at the mouth as he prepared to take full advantage of the rare mistake.
Lucifer raised his hand to halt the impending tirade.
‘I know you enjoy making the Board wait, Mastema, and I for one find it hilarious; but not when you do it to me. You are long out of my grace and the next time it happens I shall remove you from your position and imprison you for eternity in the smallest cell I can find.’
A look of concern crept over Lucifer’s face.
‘And what would your poor wife do then?’ he asked. ‘Deumos is a beautiful creature and I find myself short one child. Perhaps I might be able to comfort her, to help her through the grief of her loss.’
‘I’m sure my wife would be honoured by your attentions.’ replied Mastema. ‘And I would not want to see her lonely and untended should I perish. I did however notice a strange burning sensation after my last tryst with her. The ointment for this is in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet if you find yourself with a similar affliction after sampling her womanly wares.’
Abaddon’s rage grew with the grin on the Light Bearer’s face. Mastema had an uncanny ability for avoiding almost certain reprisal; one that never seemed to fail him. The King of Demons, and indeed the rest of the Board, eagerly awaited the day when his excuses and jokes were not enough to dodge punishment.
‘I call this meeting to order then,’ Abaddon said, once his calm had returned and it was clear no immediate punishment was forthcoming. ‘Asteroth, if you would?’
The Treasurer of Perdition, a short, fat Demon-Lord in ink-stained robes, stood to address the Board. There were a few members missing, Mastema noted, most prominently Samael, Bringer of Death and Destruction. The room smelt better for his absence and Mastema assumed the brute would be furious at being left out of something important. He made a mental note to rub the fact in as soon as he saw him.
‘I will not be going over exact figures in any depth during this meeting,’ Asteroth told the Board to their unconcealed delight. ‘But I do have handouts for those who are interested. Our esteemed Master has asked for the most basic of financial rundowns, just enough to give you all some background for today’s meeting.’
The Treasurer flicked through the parchments piled in front of him.
‘Our actual soul count is diminishing; funds have been leaking steadily from it for the past two and a half years. All gains from our last move in the Mortal realm have evaporated and we are cutting heavily into our savings. The projected soul count is abysmal and well short of what we’d need to make up for the losses. In short, our fiscal situation is dire and getting worse with each moment.’
Losing projected souls was bad enough; losing ones that were already in the coffers was unforgiveable. The Lords began eyeing up their peers, looking for a way to escape responsibility for the deficit and the certain punishment that would come with it.
‘Before you all start blaming each other,’ said Lucifer, ‘I want to tell you this is unfortunate but expected. Mastema’s son, who we all know is a hard worker as well as a traitorous dog, has a certain way with the Mortals. It seems Kaarl has a knack for getting them to walk the path of weakness instead of the one to Perdition. I do not know how he can do this whilst still sticking to their pathetic tenets of free will and choice, nor do I care.’
There was a malevolent glint in Lucifer’s eyes as they met Mastema’s.
‘If your little runt wasn’t running Perdition into the ground I could almost admire his accomplishments,’ he said.
Under Perdition’s banner Kaarl had driven the Mortals ever closer to Lucifer’s grip. The Board had lost touch with their prey; they no longer understood the creatures whose souls they were hunting. With Kaarl’s knowledge of them and their new, modern world he had been the perfect choice to lead the charge. He had been young, fresh blood in a battle that had raged since the dawn of Humanity; until he had chosen to defy Lucifer and fight for Paradise instead. The Light Bearer rose from his throne and each Lord struggled in turn to maintain his composure as the Master of Perdition strolled behind him. A few of them even flinched as Lucifer passed their chairs.
‘As for the decrease in the actual soul count,’ Lucifer continued. ‘This is my doing. You have to spend souls to make souls and believe me I am spending them well.
Although the Board would not dare to make a sound while their master was speaking a visible wave of relief swept around the table. A few of its members had heard of the disappearances but not of the scale of them. In truth they didn’t care; it was only the Damned after all. Issues in Perdition only became actual problems if Lucifer deemed them so and the fact that he was behind the declining numbers was a welcome revelation.
‘That is in fact the purpose for this meeting,’ said the Light Bearer. ‘To let you all know what I have been spending them on and where we will go from here.’
The Board waited in breathless anticipation as Lucifer returned to his throne.
‘I am sending the Four Horsemen to the Mortal Realm,’ he told them as he took his seat. ‘And the souls spent have been used to feed them.’
The Board were unable to hide their disbelief. Had Lucifer not been present they would have been in an uproar; instead they sat open-mouthed and wide-eyed, awaiting an explanation. Asmodeus, Demon of Wrath, had a reputation as a Lord of few words. He was the first to speak however when no further information seemed forthcoming. The towering and imposing Lord stood and waited for permission to address the Light Bearer.
‘Forgive me, my Master,’ he said once it was granted. ‘I was under the impression that they were a tool of the Hated One.’
‘God may have created them but whose tool they are is a matter of perspective,’ replied Lucifer. ‘When the End Times come they will ride forth, wiping the worst parts of Humanity from that realm and if we have done our jobs they will in fact be filling our coffers, reaping what we have sown. In essence that would make them mine, not God’s.’
‘Again I must beg your forgiveness,’ said Asmodeus. ‘But are we not far from the End Times?’
‘For now at least that works in our favour; were Humanity to be wiped out at this moment we would well and truly lose the Game.’
Lucifer leant forward and flashed his perfect white teeth.
‘Gabriel broke an ancient and almost forgotten law when he came through our gates on Kaarl’s behalf. It’s deliciously ironic really; God’s own champion has given us this chance to rip success from the jaws of failure.’
When Kaarl had turned away from Perdition and started to work for Paradise, Gabriel – God’s Champion and the Bane of Demons – had come to Perdition to threaten Lucifer, to force him into letting the fight between Damon and Kaarl play out by itself. The Angel had thought it only fair that the two face each other in the Mortal realm with no interference from either side. Although Kaarl had switched allegiances he was still making amends at the time and his place in Paradise was far from assured. Nergal, Lucifer’s Enforcer and the leader of Hell’s Secret Police, had been closing in. If Kaarl’s Mortal form had been destroyed he would have been sent back to Perdition and straight into Lucifer’s clutches. By coming to Perdition and threatening to expose Damon Gabriel had got his wish and unknowingly paved the way for the Horsemen at the same time.
‘Thanks to Gabriel’s lapse in judgement I have the opportunity to send the Horsemen to Earth on Perdition’s behalf,’ explained Lucifer. ‘They will not be able to consume nations as they would in the End Times but with the souls sacrificed I’ve ensured they have enough power to leave a mark. If all goes to plan they will start a chain of events that should more than make up for the hefty investment.’
‘So they are like mercenaries?’ asked Mastema, all propriety forgotten in the shock of the revelation.
‘In a way,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Gabriel weakened the barriers between the realms when he passed through my gate and his little tantrum down here made all manner of sub clauses and addendums to the Old Law null and void. We have more than enough lawyers down here so finding a way to profit from his transgression was child’s play. Long story short: the Horsemen have the opportunity to freelance for me before their final ride.’
With a snap of Lucifer’s fingers Nergal appeared beside the Light Bearer. In his true form he was a faint shadow; a wisp of smoke able to stalk through Perdition without notice in the performance of his duties. If the need for physical violence arose, something Nergal revelled and excelled in, he would solidify himself into a grey beast of teeth and fury with four arms ending in vicious scythes. Feared throughout Perdition, stories of his exploits terrified old and young alike. The Lords were no more immune to the unsettling effects of his presence than the rest of their realm.
While the Board considered the reason for his attendance the doors to their meeting room burst open. Persephone, Lucifer’s daughter, entered with a full complement of Nergal’s Demons in tow. All uniformly tall and broad of shoulder, their obsidian armour glistened and the vicious war-hammers normally strapped to their backs were at the ready. Samael, an immense mountain of muscle decked in skulls and a loin cloth, brought up the rear and slammed the doors shut.
While the Demonic soldiers took up positions behind the Board, Persephone made her way to her father’s throne. With hair and skin of gold, the girl was a sight to behold. Beautiful beyond words, she had black eyes, a vicious and inviting white smile and moved across the room with deadly grace. The Princess of Perdition gave her father a kiss on the cheek before taking a seat on his knee.
‘Hi Father, I brought the executioners just like you asked.’ Persephone pointed at Asteroth. ‘Can we start with the fat one? I’d love to watch his belly ripple and rupture under the hammer.’
The Treasurer’s eyes widened and the other Lords looked close to begging for their lives or attempting to escape. Lucifer’s harsh laughter echoed throughout the boardroom.
‘Calm yourselves,’ the Light Bearer told them. ‘My daughter merely jests. Nergal’s men are here to ensure secrecy. My plan is almost ready to be played out and I cannot risk Paradise finding out about it before it is underway. These warriors will be following your every move from now on, to ensure there are no leaks. Guard your tongues outside of this room; one careless word about any of this means death for you and your families.’
Again with the threats to families, thought Mastema. What need did a Lord have for a family if he was dead? The idea of his life ending was sufficient motivation for the Tempter of Men and he was sure the same was true for his fellow Board members. Killing families seemed excessive and highly unnecessary but Mastema held his tongue on the matter. It was something to contemplate in silence on the golf course, not to be questioned out loud.
‘I have asked many of you to take on additional duties,’ the Light Bearer said. ‘You have been working in secret, ignorant of each other and the parts you play. Now that you know our aims we can go forward as a group.
Lucifer snapped his fingers and pointed at the Cursed Accuser.
‘Mastema, you were late so you can go first. Fill the Board in on your assignment but be brief, we have a lot to get through.’
‘Of course, Master,’ the Tempter of Men said as he rose. ‘I have been tasked with unravelling the secrets of the Internet. Kaarl found a way to bring it to our realm but we have lacked an expert amongst our ranks. Therefore I have been studying it intensely to fill that role. Thanks to my diligence and formidable intellect I now have the ability to answer any question we might have about the modern Mortal and its world.’
‘Really?’ scoffed Pyro, the Lord of Deceit. ‘Even for a braggart like you that is a big call.’
‘Any question,’ repeated Mastema, placing his palms on the table. ‘You give it to me, I can answer it. You name a subject and I’ll tell you anything and everything you need to know about it. If you’d like to start wagering against my abilities, I welcome all challengers.’
‘I knew I kept you around for something,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Have you learnt anything important from your studies?’
‘Mortals enjoy kittens that talk, pornography, and giving each other updates on their boring and mundane existences, seemingly in that order. Pictures of food that they are about to eat also rate highly.’
‘He is lying,’ shouted Pyro. ‘No one is that stupid.’
‘It also seems there was a great conflict between pirates and ninjas. Reports were sketchy as to which side won and I recently found evidence that suggests it may be still going on.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Lucifer, as he motioned for Mastema to sit. ‘From now on you shall be working closely with Nergal and Persephone. I understand we lack the knowledge to move this…“Internet” from your mansion to a more secure location so that will have to do as a meeting place.’
As the other Lords began recounting their new duties Mastema quickly put together the pieces. The Horsemen and Persephone were being sent to the Mortal realm to start a war, one that would consume their entire world. Although not mentioned specifically, it was also clear that the majority of the Mortals would need to be forced by fear or frustration into acts of depravity before their deaths. It was often the innocent more than the sinful that suffered and died during wars and Perdition could not allow that to happen. Those souls would be lost to them forever; more tallies against them on a board that was already heavily skewed towards the opposition. The details of how they would do it, the most important part of any plan, had not been finalised but the overall goal was obvious.
It was an ambitious play, one Mastema would have been proud to be a part of had he not been so sure it would eat into his golfing time for the foreseeable future. With his role already discussed and the overall objective clear, the mystery was gone and Mastema soon lost interest in the meeting.
‘Give me some of those budget handouts,’ he whispered to Asteroth as Abaddon outlined the projected timeline for the venture.
‘Of course,’ the Treasurer replied. ‘At least someone besides Lucifer recognises the significance of my work. How many do you need?’
‘I’ll probably need the whole stack,’ said Mastema, patting his stomach. ‘The executive bathroom is out of toilet paper and I had a large breakfast.’
Chapter Three: The quickest way to a man’s heart (#ulink_d9d9dd0f-da06-56dc-8acb-35729c99c90c)
Deep in the bowels of Mastema’s grey stone mansion Nergal floated back and forth like a freshly caged tiger with ADD. The leader of Hell’s Secret Police and Bringer of Lucifer’s Divine Justice had been relegated to little more than a babysitter. Nergal knew that sentiment wasn’t entirely fair; the girl had potential, he could see that, and she was far easier to stomach that her brother had been. Damon had been arrogant and ignorant; he had thought himself greater than his father and that hubris had been his downfall.
Nergal decided it was the surroundings that were responsible for his foul mood; being in Kaarl’s old room hours on end every day for three weeks had begun to take its toll. Perdition’s most famous traitor, the boy who had thwarted Nergal’s mission to help Damon, had lived in that very room. The place had become a constant reminder of his failure and the fact that Nergal was stuck with the boy’s father made it even worse. Like almost all of Perdition he hated Mastema; the good-looking, arrogant, quick-witted and lucky fool who somehow had retained his position despite centuries of tardiness, half-assed work and hastily covered mistakes.
While Persephone examined Kaarl’s belongings the Cursed Accuser sat hunched over a glass panel. It served as a monitor and had been Kaarl’s only real link to the Mortal world before he had struck his deal with Lucifer.
‘This is another fine example,’ said Mastema. ‘Not quite related to our mission but –’
‘It’s a picture of a cat wearing shoes,’ said Nergal. ‘It is in no way whatsoever related to our mission.’
‘Well you haven’t asked me to look for new information for awhile,’ replied Mastema. ‘Seeing as we had some downtime I thought I might try and brighten our day a little. He does look rather dashing in his little shoes.’
‘That’s another thing,’ said Nergal. ‘You haven’t unravelled anything, all of your talk about hours of study and a formidable intellect was hot air. You just type whatever we ask into that “Google” thing and then click on the blue words. A monkey could do your job.’
‘I make it look that easy. You can’t do what I do.’
‘What was he like?’ asked Persephone. The question out of the blue stopped Nergal from solidifying and lacerating Mastema’s disgustingly handsome face.
‘I can’t say rightly,’ replied Mastema. ‘As far as cats go he is one of the better examples I’ve seen. It might just be the shoes though; I’ve developed a bit of a bias towards felines with good fashion sense.’
‘I meant Kaarl,’ said Persephone, putting a book back on its shelf. ‘We’ve spent a lot of time in this room but I’m still not getting a sense of the Demon he was.’
‘My favourite expression for him was “worthless waste of my seed”,’ said Mastema, ‘although “pansy” and “lily-livered Mortal lover” are close to the top spot.’
‘I didn’t ask what you thought of him,’ Persephone replied. ‘I asked what he was like. You hold your son in low regard yet he got the best of my father, my brother, Nergal and every other Demon sent up there to stop him.’
‘He had help in all that,’ said Mastema. ‘He had Gabriel and as if that weren’t enough, the Angel of Death and Destruction as well.’
‘Father believes most of it was because of Kaarl,’ replied Persephone. ‘He said Gabriel and Samkiel were little more than the muscle. I think he admires your son.’
‘That’s ridiculous, the boy is a traitor.’
‘Kaarl turned against the only master he had ever known and walked his own path. In spite of everything else that happened I’m sure my father can appreciate that, if only for the irony.’
Distractions and sidetracking during the meetings had worn thin with Nergal. Normally it was Mastema who was the cause of the delays; clicking on the myriad of colourful things that popped up as they were meant to be researching. The fool had spent hours trying to order erectile dysfunction pills for Abaddon. Persephone had often stayed silent; besides the odd comment or question she had spent an inordinate amount of time studying Kaarl’s personal effects. It was unusual for her to veer off-topic and it was something that needed to be corrected before it became a habit.
‘If I may, Princess,’ said Nergal. ‘Our task is to find away to incite violence across the Mortal realm, not learn more about Kaarl. I’m sure your father’s patience wears thin at our lack of progress.’
‘Fine,’ replied Persephone, taking a seat on the bed. ‘What do you think our best options are so far?’
‘Religion is one,’ said Nergal. ‘Mortals have been fighting for hundreds of years over which God or Gods are the correct ones. Some even fight over facets of the same deity.’
‘They are still doing it,’ added Mastema. ‘Perhaps with a little encouragement–’
‘Like you’ve said, they have been doing it for hundreds of years,’ replied Persephone, ‘and we aren’t exactly getting record numbers out of it anymore. Next.’
‘Racism,’ said Nergal, glancing at his list. ‘Some Mortals hate each other based on skin colour or ethnicity. Others fight to the death merely because they were born on different sides of the same country. Perhaps we could foster that animosity?’
‘It’s not all of them,’ replied Persephone. ‘And from what we’ve seen most of it boils down to stereotyping, derogatory jokes and snide comments between like-minded people. Racism is a lifestyle choice if anything and it very rarely results in enough deaths these days to be considered profitable. Next.’
As each option was discussed Persephone shot it down. Strategic political assassinations were a waste of the Horsemen’s talents and there was no guarantee they would work. Murderous riots weren’t a given and the next person to fill the power void might not be the right fit. Dictators tended to settle down after achieving the top spot, concentrating on maintaining their power rather than expanding beyond their borders. Surrounded by solid gold toilets, sex slaves and high definition TVs they often lost their appetite for war and that would not suit Perdition’s purposes.
Nergal felt a twist in the place where the pit of his stomach would have been with each idea dismissed. Three weeks’ worth of Mastema was more than enough for the enforcer and he was in danger of losing his sanity. He had already lost his temper on a few occasions and Nergal prized his self-control. The Tempter of Men and Cursed Accuser had seriously damaged his calm.
‘Perhaps we could look elsewhere for answers or ideas?’ said Mastema. ‘We have Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot and all of their kind right here, maybe we could learn something from them. I’m sure they’d appreciate a short break from the torture.’
‘A singularly stupid idea.’ said Persephone. ‘There is a reason why they suffer while the rest of the Mortals get to drink themselves stupid down here; they killed more innocents than Damned with their shenanigans and inadvertently helped the Hated One. Following in their footsteps is the fast path to failure.’
‘I didn’t mean our whole plan should come from them verbatim,’ replied Mastema. ‘But perhaps we might get some inspiration. Whatever we come up with will no doubt be cobbled together from many ideas. It seems the only way to address the bigger issue underlying all of this.’
‘What bigger issue?’ asked Nergal.
Mastema stood and arched his back. Hours spent over the glass panel had begun to take its toll and he didn’t want to suffer any permanent damage. Nothing ruined the effect of a good suit like bad posture.
‘The way the Mortals fight these days is the bigger issue,’ replied Mastema, shooting his cuffs. ‘In the good old days it was all sword on sword. Two Mortals, one death, and either the loser or the victor was ours nine times out of ten. Now they have these nuclear weapons and flying murder robots. A small room of Mortals can be responsible for the death of hundreds or even millions of their own kind. It may be a more efficient way for them to do things but all those souls will count against us if we haven’t secured them first. We’ll be shooting ourselves in the foot if we go about this the wrong way.’
Mastema grinned at the silence that followed his explanation.
These idiots had not even considered the implications of innocents dying by our hands, he thought.
Insulting Lucifer’s daughter would not have been wise but someone needed their face rubbed in the obvious.
‘I realised this before our first meeting with the Board drew to a close,’ said Mastema. ‘Foresight is one of the many benefits of a formidable intellect.’
He turned to Nergal.
‘Do you mean to tell me the leader of Hell’s Secret Police, a Demon whose job apparently revolves around intelligence, didn’t take this rather important detail into account? Who is the monkey now, Nergal? ’
The smoke began to flicker and take shape.
‘That’s enough,’ said Persephone before things escalated further.
‘I agree,’ said Mastema with a nod. ‘I think I’ve contributed more than enough today to warrant a break. I could kill for a sandwich right about now.’
