On A Pale Horse (32 page)

“But you used me—and her!” Zane cried in continuing anguish. “Where is your morality?”

“It is our business to use people,” Fate said. “Have you yourself hesitated to employ your power to change the circumstances of your clients?” Of course she was scoring there, for Zane was in deep trouble for doing just that. He had hardly hesitated to impose his own view of what was right, sparing some clients, taking some, and changing the manner of the dying of others. Holy, Holy, Holy!

“Now, in the hour of crisis, we are using ourselves,” Fate continued. “We have made it possible for you to save the living world by saving the life of the woman you love. You were ready to oppose us, though you knew our power, when we tested you on this just now. Now you can aid us, to your own advantage.”

It was, of course, true. They had spun him into an inextricable commitment. Without Fate's intervention in his life, he would probably have shot himself and—no, of course she had also set up his need to shoot himself by denying him his romance with Angelica—or had she set that up, too? How far back did this go? Probably, left to his own devices, he would have looked at the stones in the Mess o' Pottage shop, been able to afford none, and returned to his dreary former existence. He would at this moment be scrounging for back rent by selling pornographic photographs of unsuspecting women. Instead, he had been launched into a fantastic new realm of death and love...

Nature smiled. “Mars grasped the essentials of the battle between God and Satan,” she said. “Chronos spotted the key episode to come. I defined the qualities of the person who could and would do what had to be done, and Fate arranged to put him—you—in the proper situation. We collaborated, and touched your life as you looked at the Deathstone, and now the matter is in your hands. We can not fight this battle without your acquiescence.”

“But you didn't tell me!”

“Had we set it up openly, Satan would have known,” Fate reminded him. “He would have acted to prevent this encounter, just as he acted to eliminate Luna before her turn. The Prince of Evil has no civilized limits; he seeks only his own aggrandizement, and his craft and power are enormous. But now the deed is done, and even he can not rescind it, though he is surely listening to us now. The time for secrecy is past.”

“What deed?” Zane demanded, exasperated. “I have not saved Luna's life; I have only refused to take her soul.”

“And will you take that soul hereafter if Satan asks you to?” Nature asked cannily.

“No! And not if you ask me to. Green Mother! I love Luna; I don't care by what machinations the rest of you arranged this thing, or whom I might have loved otherwise, or whom she might have loved; I'll not betray her myself.”

“We thought you would feel that way,” Nature said. “We never wished you evil, Thanatos; we always wished you success. We deeply regret having to plot against your predecessor, who was a decent officeholder—but he would not have balked at taking Luna. He was too experienced with the mischief of opposing the status quo and would not try to thwart God or Satan. We had to have a headstrong, emotional Death, new enough and young enough not to be jaded by experience, and alive enough to respond to an attractive and intelligent young woman. We chose you and we used you, and for that we apologize—but we believe we had no choice. We could not do the job ourselves. The brunt must be yours. Satan wants Luna dead, but only you can complete that death. As long as you hold out, Satan is foiled.”

Zane looked at Luna's body, the welling and dripping blood frozen in place. “Much good may it do her or the world,” he muttered. “She is not dead, but neither is she alive.”

Chronos raised his hourglass. “Now I can act.” He turned his hand, reversing the glass without inverting it, so that the sand flowed upward. Outside their circle, time ran backward, as it had on the night of the fire.

The dragoness' mouth opened. Blood welled into Luna's body, rising in swift drops from the ground and coursing in rivulets to closing wounds as the monster's teeth withdrew. The dragoness' head jerked back and Luna sprang out, blind and flayed. She reeled backward—into a coalescing cloud of smoke. She screamed. In a moment the smoke squeezed into the reptile's mouth, and Luna backed away unharmed.

Chronos gestured with the hourglass, and time refroze.

“Now you can take her back, on temporary license. But there are some cautions. Satan can not make you take her soul, but he can make you wish you had. You will have to be brutally steadfast.”

Zane looked at the restored Luna, suddenly so healthy. He blinked. The horror had unhappened! “I shall be.”

“But you can not decline this client without declining all,” Nature said. “On others you could choose before, for you were merely juggling their situations when no other supernatural entity was concerned. But in this case the issue has been joined. Satan will hold you to the technicality of the law, for all that he honors no technicalities himself. You will not be permitted to take any soul without first taking Luna's. You must take none—or all.”

“Then I'm on strike,” Zane said. “I will take none—until Luna is released from this wrongful schedule of demise.”

“Yet Satan will press his case,” Mars warned. “Never in your life or death have you waged such a campaign against an Eternal. We do not know whether you will be able to prevail.”

“I won't take Luna's soul,” Zane insisted. “No matter what. You conspired to put me into love with her, and I know that and resent it, but I never betrayed one I loved, though my own soul be in peril.”

“Yes, we know,” Nature said. “That was your prime qualification for our purpose. You are intemporately loyal to your loves and your beliefs.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“The fate of humanity depends, however deviously, on your resolve,” Fate said, kissing his other cheek. “Never forget that.”

Mars and Chronos nodded grave agreement. Then there was a swirl of mixed impressions, and the others were gone. Zane was left with Luna and the Hot Smoke dragoness.

Zane touched his watch, and the motion resumed. Luna moved toward the dragoness. But she stopped, for there was already an offering before the monster.

Evidently Nature had procured a sacrificial lamb for the occasion. The poor lamb gave one terrified bleat before getting chomped. For an instant Zane wondered how it could die, if no souls could be collected, then remembered that the collectors of animal souls were not on strike. Only human souls were at issue.

In moments the dragoness consumed the virgin lamb, wool and all. She licked off her chops, burped, and limped over to rescue her precious egg. She picked it up carefully in her mouth, breathed just enough fire to melt a spot on the shell, and stuck it to her back. Then she unfurled her wings, scrambled along the sand runway, headed into the wind, got up velocity, and took off. Soon she was a diminishing speck in the sky.

Zane strode across the sand and intercepted the leader of the Dragoons, who was staring as if at a miracle. “Are you satisfied? Then release the virgin.”

The man nodded. “Did you see that?” he asked raptly. “Suddenly a lamb! It must be an Act of God!”

“The virgin's onus is abated,” Zane said insistently.

“Oh, yes,” the man said absently. “We shall transport her to our base-city to the south of Nevada, Las Vegas, and purchase a carpet ticket to her home. You have my word.”

And the word of this dedicated man was good. Zane turned to the virgin. “When you get home, miss, I suggest you—”

“Oh, yes, sir!” she exclaimed. “I will marry the boy next door immediately!”

Good enough. She would no longer be at risk as dragon bait. Her job was done.

His own, however, was just beginning. Zane walked up to Luna and took her by the arm, leading her toward his horse. Mortis had simply faded out of the picture and faded back in now that he was needed again. Luna seemed dazed. “I was scorched, crushed—” she said, putting her free hand where her wounds had been.

So she remembered! “Time—that's Chronos, another Incarnation—reversed your sacrifice. You have been spared because I refused to take your soul.”

“But you should not have been summoned for me!” she protested. “My sin outweighs my good. I should have gone directly to Hell!”

“So we thought,” he agreed. “But you chose a good way to meet your transformation, seeking and expecting no reward. Your soul is now in balance, as the other Incarnations knew it would be, and you are my direct client. Your life would still have been forfeit, because of Satan's cheating, but I have gone on strike. No one will die until your case is settled.”

“But then what is my status?” she asked, perplexed. She seemed bemused to find herself alive and without physical pain, as well she might be.

“Limbo, I believe.” He considered and realized that the other Incarnations had not told him much. They had simply set the scene, and now he had to play it out. “I think you can go about your normal life, on bail, as it were, until this business with Satan is settled.”

“My normal life!” she exclaimed incredulously. “At least I can take you home, where you will be safe with your griffins and moon moth.”

She formed a wry smile. “I hope you know what you are doing, Zane, because I am not at all sure at the moment where reality lies. I expected to be dead.”

“I'm righting a wrong,” he said. “Satan conspired against you, and I mean to foil him. It would be the proper thing to do, even if I had not been led into this situation like a puppet on a string, and even if I didn't love you.”

“I hardly think I'm worth it, dead or alive,” she murmured as they reached Mortis.

“Worth saving, or worth loving?”

“Either. I'm just not that important a person. I know I couldn't stand up to Satan, or even to one of his demons.” She shuddered, remembering the demon she had encountered. “And I doubt that love—”

Mortis leaped into the sky. “Your doubt doesn't matter,” Zane said. “Your soul will remain on Earth.”

She hugged him uncertainly from behind, not speaking again. He delivered her to her home and left her there with the admonition to stay indoors and sleep. He would check on her frequently.

“Home, Mortis,” he said, suddenly very tired. The Death steed plunged into the sky.

The Deathwatch caught his eye. It had clients backlogged. “Sorry—no action today,” Zane murmured. “Or for some time to come.”

They arrived at his mansion in the sky, and Zane dismounted. “I think you'll have a week's good grazing, Mortis,” he said. “You've been a perfect steed, and I wish you the best.”

The gallant stallion nickered appreciation, shook his body to make the saddle vanish, and headed toward the pasture. Zane went to the house.

The household staff took care of him as always. Zane had a good meal, a shower, a change of clothing, and felt much refreshed. He settled down to watch the news on television, knowing it would be brimming over with his latest scandalous behavior. Everything seemed fine, except for two things: he missed Luna, and he was apprehensive about his future. He knew he faced no easy time. It would not take Satan long, if he had not listened in on the Hot Smoke scene, to realize that Luna had not arrived in Hell on schedule.

“Good evening, Death,” the urbane announcer said from the screen. “I dislike intruding on your well deserved privacy, but there seems to be a misunderstanding.”

Zane peered more closely at the face. The man's complexion was dark with a red tinge, and two small horns projected from his temples. “Satan!” he exclaimed.

“At your service,” the Prince of Evil agreed, inclining his head politely. “Do you have a moment?”

Zane sighed. Already the dread encounter was upon him! Satan was affecting politeness, but he would have his say no matter what Death did. “I refuse to send Luna's soul to Hell!” Zane said firmly.

Satan laughed. The sound was mellow and good-humored, as if he were enjoying a joke on himself. “To Hell? My dear associate, she need not come here! I'm sure she will be welcome in Heaven, after her several meritorious acts.”

What was this? “You don't want her?”

“I want only what is due Me, Death. Luna is a good woman, regardless of what the record may indicate. I can personally guarantee she will not come to Hell. I have no use for her kind here.”

“Then why did you slate her for untimely demise?” Zane snapped.

The Devil's lips quirked. “I must confess there is a bit of awkwardness coming up. I see no reason to involve such a lovely and good woman in that matter.”

“So you're killing her early!”

“I merely seek the least painful way to alleviate a difficult situation. I regret that this may cause you personal distress, Death, but I am quite willing to compensate you—”

“How can you compensate me for the loss of the woman I love!”

“My dear sir. My organization specializes in compensations! If it is the delights of the distaff flesh you desire—” Satan gestured off screen, and a truly beautiful brunette joined him. “My dear, show My esteemed colleague your offerings.”

The woman smiled dazzlingly and unzipped her blouse. A phenomenally full and rounded bosom emerged, untethered by a brassiere.

“She's a succubus!” Zane said, catching on.

“Naturally. I could provide you with your choice of the human beauties of history, most of whom now reside in my domain and any of whom would be overjoyed to delight you eternally. But you would have to come to Hell, for they can not return to Earth in their original bodies. I assume you prefer a creature who can cater to you in life. These highly specialized creatures, the succubi, can entertain you anywhere.”

Zane was silent, taken aback by the sheer audacity of the offer. Satan thought he would accept a female demon in lieu of Luna!

“This one, for example,” Satan continued blithely as the woman-shape continued to strip. “Note her fairness efface and fullness of feature. You can't match that on Earth.”

Zane found part of his voice. “But—”

“And that's not all,” Satan said quickly. The succubus was stepping out of her skirt. She turned about as Satan touched her arm, showing her plush buttocks and thoroughly fleshed thighs to the eager close-up camera.

“But that's not—”

“Ah, but it is,” Satan said enthusiastically. “It is eternal. Living women inevitably change and fatten and age, but a she-demon's flesh never atrophies. You need have no concern at all about degradation of form.” He slapped her right flank, and the ripple of flesh proceeded in measured stages across the right buttock, through the left, and down the thighs before reversing like a wave at the edge of a pool and returning to the point of impact. “Eternal,” the Evil One repeated softly.

“You don't understand,” Zane said, keeping his voice steady, though his eyes did feel somewhat bugged out. “I don't want a voluptuous succubus. I want Luna.”

“I can provide you the form of Luna,” Satan said. “Form is the least part of a woman.” He gestured, and the demoness misted and re-formed, turning to face the camera in the exact likeness of Luna. It was eerie, for no detail differed. The hair was just as brown and flowing, the eyes just as gray and deep. If Zane didn't know better...

“But her mind—” he said doggedly.

Satan frowned. “There, I confess, is a problem. Intelligent conversation does require a mind. Most men prefer their females without minds of their own.”

“All of which is beside the point,” Zane said, gaining confidence. The Prince of Evil couldn't deceive someone who was alert—he hoped! “I love Luna for herself, not just her form. She has done some very generous things, very brave things, and is a wonderful person—and she is going to stop you from interfering with the world, twenty years hence. That's why I will not remove her soul from life.” Zane was afraid he was saying too much, but couldn't help himself.

“A commendable attitude,” Satan said mildly. “One should always promote the welfare of one's situation and one's friends. That's enlightened self-interest.”

Zane was surprised. “You agree?”

“Of course I agree, Death! I am the Deity of Self-interest, after all. But one does have to be careful how one defines the term.”

“It's not copulating with succubi!” Zane shot back.

“That depends on one's viewpoint. You really should try it before condemning it. Your girlfriend did.”

“That's a lie!” Zane snapped with sudden heat. But he realized as he reacted that he should not; Satan was cleverly pushing his buttons, pushing him around emotionally, getting him off balance. Too much of that, and the Devil would have him reacting exactly as he wanted. Zane reminded himself that the Hot Smoke dragoness would not have started to consume Luna if she had not been physically virginal. He hardly needed to argue the case with the Devil.

“Naturally I am the Father of Lies, a title I carry with pride,” Satan responded equably. “Truth is only as each person sees it; there is no absolute standard of integrity. That is why I often find it necessary to depend on reason to convince skeptics of the validity of my case. Pay attention to My logic, and you will have no need of further verification.”

“Maybe,” Zane said shortly, distrusting this.

“You choose to interpret Luna's physical virginity as the whole of her purity. Are you sure you are not deceiving yourself thereby?”

What a silver tongue the Devil had! He was personable and agreeable, and presented his case in positive terms.

It was hard to resist his charm. Zane had somehow anticipated a glowering, smoky horror-mask issuing terrible threats. Yet, he reminded himself, the evil was the same, regardless of the image it projected.

“I know she was raped by one of your demons,” Zane said. “I know that rape was psychic, not physical. I know it imposed a heavy load of sin on her soul. But I also know she did it to try to learn magic to help her father. On the record she may have much sin, but as a person, she is good.”

“Unquestionably, and very intelligently answered,” Satan said, as if addressing a precocious student. He patted the succubus on her bouncy bare bottom, and she moved off screen. “There is nothing quite as commendable as the sacrifice of one's soul, one's own immortal soul, for the good of another, however that good may be defined. By that measure, you yourself are a much better man than your record indicates. Luna is certainly a rare creature.”

“Then why are you hounding her?” Zane demanded, though this was mostly rhetoric; he knew the answer and had already charged Satan with it. But he had to say something to help himself resist the tide of gratitude that threatened to undermine his cause. Satan had complimented him, as well as Luna, for a matter that was fundamental to Zane's self-image. Satan had justified Zane's treatment of his mother. How much easier it would have been to fight a ravening monster!

Satan laughed again, sounding like the most pleasant of companions. “My dear Incarnation, I am not concerned with good. Evil is My bailiwick! It is My Eternal duty to define and chastise the evil in man. Surely you agree this is a necessary chore?”

“Yes, but—”

“There is an enormous amount of evil in the world,” the urbane figure continued persuasively. “Left to itself, that evil would soon corrupt the entire society, like milk going bad. It has to be disciplined; the evildoers have to be punished, and to know that punishment is inevitable and in strict accordance with their offenses. In fact, the entire society has to be advised of the consequence of evil action. Only that way can man as a species be improved.”

This was a compelling rationale! “But Luna, you admit, is not fundamentally evil! Why should she be punished?”

“My dear associate,” Satan said with another warm and tolerant smile, as a benign father might address a bright but errant child. “We agree she is not evil, and of course she is not to be punished! She is to be sent directly to Heaven, where she belongs. Surely you do not object to that!”

“To Heaven?” Zane asked blankly. “You agree to—?”

“I only want what is Mine. Luna belongs to God.” Zane scrambled for mental footing. “But it is not her turn! Why schedule her to die prematurely?” Again he was pushing Satan to confess the truth; would he do it? “If one must go early in order that a hundred be fairly treated—would you do right by the one and wrong by the hundred?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Death, I have analyzed the future course of man in some detail. I comprehend trends that might be considered too subtle for mortal minds. Not for your mind, of course; you are a perceptive person. But a detailed narration would become tedious. In essence, I perceive a nexus approximately twenty years hence that is crucial to the fate of the human species. By taking advantage of that particular situation, I can change the course of human history. I will be able to purge an enormous amount of evil with a minimum of disruption. Unfortunately, one well-intentioned but misguided person obstructs that opportunity. It grieves Me to deal firmly with that person, who is perfectly justified in her stand, according to her more limited comprehension; but the justice of the many must take precedence over the justice of the one. The equation may seem cruel in the particular instance, and unfair in the specific case—but in the larger context, the values reverse. This is the reality it is My eternal duty to honor.”

And Luna was that one. Were it not for that, Zane might have found himself persuaded. “Father of Lies, I don't believe you.”

Still Satan took no offense. “You are correct to be cautious. I like your independent thinking. I am sure a person of your perspective will come to the appropriate conclusion.”

“I doubt you can convince me to send the woman I love to Eternity before her time.”

Satan shrugged. “Timing can be a matter of convenience, Death. Do you feel privileged to have had your own situation cynically manipulated by others, including the time and manner of your departure from your original life?”

The Evil One was bearing down harder! “I'm not really pleased about that,” Zane admitted, knowing that honesty was by far the best course. He could hardly match Satan's proficiency in lying, even if he wanted to. Any lie, even a mild self-deception, would play into Satan's hands. “But I think that, in this circumstance, it was the necessary—” He paused, realizing the implication. The welfare of the one, sacrificed for the benefit of the many! He was playing into the Devil's hands anyway!

“Circumstance makes puppets of us all,” Satan said sympathetically. “You function excellently in your office; I can tell you that sincerely, though perhaps God would not. It has been decades, perhaps centuries, since a Death has placed conscience above convenience, and the role is overdue for reinterpretation.”

Zane tried to resist his pleasure at this flattery, mistrusting its source. “I dare say it is bringing me rapidly closer to you.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Satan laughed, like a jolly Santa Claus. “Isn't that the irony! The rules are so fixed that those few who do the right thing must pay for it with their souls! God would jet green flame if He knew! But frankly. He is not paying attention.”

Zane was taken aback by this open denigration of God. But what else should he have expected from God's archenemy? “You say you're getting good souls in Hell?” he asked, amazed.

“And losing evil ones to Heaven,” Satan agreed, slapping his knee. “Gums up the works something awful. But that's the way of bureaucracy and classified standards; some poor souls always slip through the cracks.”

This was the Father of Lies, Zane reminded himself. All or nothing or any ratio between could be falsity. It was dangerous even talking to Satan, for soon the boundaries of good and evil became fuzzed by eloquent misleading.

“I see you remain in doubt,” Satan said, leaning forward with apparent sincerity. “That is quite understandable. Your associates have maneuvered to put you in an awkward position. You have problems in your office, and are inhibited by rules that have lost their relevance to the contemporary scene. Likewise I, in My office. It behooves us to cooperate where our offices overlap. This can greatly facilitate our respective duties and benefit us both.”

“I see no benefit!”

“Oh, but you have not given yourself the chance to see it,” Satan said smoothly. “Let Me give you a tour of My demesnes.”

“A tour of Hell? I don't—”

“It can be arranged, Death. You have merely to depart your physical host for a time. You have My personal assurance that you will return in good order.”