The Two Devils (6 page)

Mabel smiled. “God has forbidden angels from touching mortals.” She shrugged, then she suddenly grabbed me and kissed me. “Of course, Janus and I don't really care what God wants. We haven't worked for Him in ages."

I can't fully describe why kissing her was so much nicer than kissing a regular woman. And I hadn't kissed all that many regular women. But it was. And I was having trouble keeping my wits about me.

"You want to go back into the bath house and take a bath with me?” Mabel asked.

"No."

She seemed surprised. “Buffy must've really impressed you."

I shook my head. “I want to go check into an otel room with you—or better yet, a hotel room."

She smiled. “Oh Miles."

Mabel turned out to be every bit as satisfying as Janus. I didn't know why I rated so much attention, but I was sure enjoying myself. The next morning, she was still with me, lying on top of me with her head on my shoulder.

"Miles, maybe we can do a threesome some time."

"Threesome?"

"You should read some of those French novels, Miles.” She got up and started getting dressed. Her clothes had not vanished in a display of sparks. They were neatly laid out on the dresser. “Yes, you me and Janus next time. That will be fun."

That sounded like something beyond my simple imagination, but it didn't sound unpleasant. “Okay,” I agreed.

As she arranged herself while looking in the mirror, she said, “Buffy is God's personal secretary. You sure got their attention, Miles."

"Personal secretary? I had no idea God even had a secretary."

"Yes, Miles.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “Am I as pretty as Buffy?"

"And then some.” I wasn't really sure about that, but I wasn't stupid enough to tell her anything else. She beamed as she admired herself in the mirror.

"Who's Nick's personal secretary?” I reasoned that, if God had one, so would Nick.

She smiled. “Janus, silly.” She offered no explanation about her own role in the hierarchy of hell. When she'd gotten the look she wanted, she opened the door and left without any further formalities. I got my drawers on and headed out in search of my horse. I'd left him tied up in front of the bathhouse. I found him munching on oats at the livery stable. He certainly was an independent horse.

It turned out the man in the stable felt sorry for him, so he fed Paul. I paid him for his trouble with the last of my painting money.

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I'd gotten hired right away in Stockton. There I was in the Palace Barbershop cutting hair, first day in town. I'd never actually done humans before, but the dogs I'd trimmed always seemed happy enough. Folks would come from miles away with their long-haired dogs when I was growing up. I'd groom them and they always seemed content. After three hours, no one complained and I'd even gotten a few tips. Then some boat captain who wanted a shave came in.

It's amazing how much the human face can bleed before it stops.

They didn't even fire me. I was expected back the next day, so I headed off to Mrs. Bunyan's rooming house. I arrived just in time for supper. We had ham with mashed potatoes and some sort of greens. It was right tasty and included with the rent. As I relaxed with the other borders, two old women who smelled funny and some guy just out of the cavalry, Mrs. Bunyan approached me with an odd expression on her face.

"Mr. O'Malley."

I looked at her, expecting more words. “Yes?"

"There's a gentleman to see you. He's in the back yard. Refuses to come inside."

I picked myself up from the too-low chair and followed her to the back door. I looked out. It was very dark. And there was somebody there—somebody very large standing in the yard, wearing a top hat. As I approached, I recognized him. Ellul looked completely out of place, wearing a jacket and top hat. In the darkness, he could nearly pass for a large man. “Ellul?"

"Mister wants to see you,” he informed me.

I shrugged. “Sure. Where is he?"

"In his office,” the demon in the top hat explained.

"Uh, where might that be?” I was afraid I already knew the answer.

"In his office. We go now.” He climbed up on a white horse. He seemed to expect me to climb on behind him.

I hesitated. “I'll get my horse."

I jogged three blocks to the livery. Paul was in the wrong stall—a stall with an Appaloosa mare. I tossed his saddle on his back. When I had him saddled up, he stood there and didn't move. “Dang it, Paul. You are my horse, and, for once, let's do what I want."

The horse reluctantly started moving. He didn't seem at all pleased to see Ellul.

"How come they sent you?” I asked.

"Because he wants to see you,” Ellul replied.

"You don't exactly fit in, big guy."

"I do what Mister says."

"Fair enough,” I decided. “Let's go, Paul.” Now, even though I was going along with this, it doesn't mean I wasn't concerned about it. I'd liked things a whole lot better when they came to me.

"Don't eat anything,” Ellul warned.

"Excuse me?” I asked.

"Don't eat anything in hell,” he repeated.

"Food's that bad?"

"You can't come back."

I asked him “You ever eat anything?"

"Of course."

"You got out.” He didn't seem to like my observation. We rode along in silence for the better part of an hour. Eventually, we turned onto a narrow trail that turned onto a still narrower one. It reminded me more of a deer trail than a path for horse traffic. Once again, we entered a dark railway tunnel. “How'd they get into hell before the railroads?” That remark also went unanswered. This bunch from hell, so far, all lacked much of a sense of humor. Our tunnel branched off into another one. Then, finally, we stopped at a gate. And I do mean stopped. Paul planted his hooves and would not budge. I climbed down.

"We go on foot. Not much farther,” Ellul announced.

This gate was bigger than the other one. But it was equally unimpressive, rusted over and kind of tilted. Ellul opened it, and I followed him inside, then he shut it. There didn't seem to be any lock on it. With the recent helmet episode in mind, I kind of wondered about their security measures, but decided not to ask.

Once again, he seemed to know my thoughts. “Mortals and spirits cannot pass, unless it is opened.” We walked a few paces, then he added, “Only demons can open the gates of hell."

That meant, if interpreted literally, I'd just willingly walked into hell and could never return unless they allowed me to. My grandmother always thought I was a real moron. At that moment, I thought she might just be right. So, I put my hands in my pockets and strolled along with a demon in hell, determined to make the best of things.

The first thing that hit me was the place is uncomfortably warm. And it stinks. The source of the aroma soon became apparent. We rounded a bend and there was the famous fiery lake. It was bigger than I'd expected.

The odor of brimstone wafted off the water and permeated the surrounding air. It was actually kind of pretty, with the yellow flames reflecting off the turquoise water. Some sort of algae seemed to give the water its color.

Ellul blurted out “It stinks,” as we walked along, “like sewer."

He was quite right, but I didn't say anything. This demon was not anything I'd expected in a demon. Of course, nothing out of hell was quite what I'd expected. I wasn't ready to jump on the hell bandwagon, but things were surprising me, nonetheless.

We soon arrived at a row of chariots. He climbed on board one, and I followed. Then a team of young naked men raced up and into the harnesses. And we started moving. We entered a city that overlooked the lake.

A lot of different folks were taking an interest in me. I guess demons didn't drive ordinary people around in chariots very often. I guess the people were, or had been, dead. How this all works was never really explained to me.

I know there's some mention of a born-again process in the Bible. But they were there, looking out windows of their tall apartment house buildings. As we moved further into town, the buildings seemed to get bigger. And, in the center, was an ornate, maybe even gaudy, palace perched on a slight hill, making it just barely the tallest structure around. It looked like marble. It reminded me of Egyptian styling, though I'd only seen a few pictures of buildings in Egypt, so I wasn't sure.

Ellul, once again, seemed to anticipate what I was thinking. “Based on the Library at Alexandria, before it was burned. Crummy copy.” Something brown and smelly landed on top one of the chariot pullers. Ellul immediately hurled a fireball off in the direction it came from. I never did see the actual attacker. “We're here.” The chariot stopped. “Go up the steps."

I did. The chariot and Ellul drove away. As I went inside I was greeted, or more accurately confronted, by a really big demon. “Who are you supposed to be?"

"Miles O'Malley. I'm expected."

"I'm not expecting you,” he countered.

"I am here to see Mr. Mephistopheles."

He let out a laugh. “Now, I know you're lying. Nobody ever wants to see him. What are you going to steal?"

I didn't really care for his attitude. “I am here to see Mr. Mephistopheles. I will be sure to let him know who kept me waiting."

He shrugged. “Go on then.” He pointed down a long marble corridor. “Down the hall, through the big doors."

So, I ventured down the hall and through the big doors. On the other side of the doors sat ten demons, all in a row. Next to them was a regular sized door.

The demon nearest the door stood and opened the door. “Mr. O'Malley to see his greatness."

Inside that door sat Janus, behind a really immense wooden desk. She came around and hugged me. She was wearing about the flimsiest thing I'd ever seen. It didn't conceal much. It was a short white dress, loose at the top and barely covering her lower intimacies. She was not wearing undergarments. “Miles.” She pointed at a chair. “Sit down, Miles.” I did.

To my surprise, she sat on my lap and put her head on my shoulder. “My hair doesn't smell like shit."

She was right about that, though it seemed an odd way to start a conversation.

"Mabel says you want to do a threesome.” She started licking my ear.

"I can't wait.” Then she looked toward another door, on the side of the office. “Oh, pooh.” She got off of me. “He'll see you now.” She ventured over to the door and opened it.

I followed. This office was very nicely furnished. It had a sort of earthy color scheme. I recognized a few Navajo patterns on the rugs hanging on the walls. A barrel cactus was growing in a pot in the corner. One wall was mostly a huge picture window providing a view of the fiery lake. Janus seated me, then left.

A moment later, another door opened and Nick entered. “Miles.” I shook his clammy hand. “Miles, good to see you again.” He was holding a violin, which he placed in the corner, against the wall. “Fellow bet me that he could outplay me. Wagered his soul against a few more years as president of his country. I play a mean fiddle, Miles.” He sat down at a modest desk that was half the size of Janus's. “He gave up in thirty seconds. Packed it right in.” Nick opened up a wooden box. “Cigar, Miles?"

"No thanks. I don't smoke."

"You should. You'll live longer. Reduces stress,” Nick explained. He lit up his cigar. “Ah."

"Quite a place you've got here.” It was all I could think to say.

"Isn't it? Keep in mind, Miles, that Bible was put out by our competitor.” He took another long drag on his cigar. “Miles, it seems we've got a bit of a problem.” He opened his desk drawer and removed a drawing. “This is the angel Ralph."

Like Buffy, that seemed an odd name for an angel. “Ralph?"

"Yes, Ralph. It seems he's gone up to earth for some reason. At first, I just thought he'd made peace with God and run back to heaven.” Nick grinned. “Well, that was rather silly on my part. Now, he's supposedly in the Sacramento River area working in the maritime industry."

"On a barge?"

"Or perhaps a ferry or something. We can't have this Miles. We simply can't. It's one thing to go out for a message, but angels can't live with the mortals. It just isn't the way things are done.” Nick snuffed out his cigar into a black obsidian ashtray. “Miles, I need you to take Ellul and go and fetch him back."

"What if he won't come?"

"Then you'll have to kill him, Miles,” Nick stated coldly. “Now, I know that sounds cruel."

That was an understatement.

Nick continued, “But, it's not like he was ever alive, in a mortal sense, anyway."

I didn't really understand what he meant. “I don't want to do this."

Undaunted, he placed a box of bullets on the desk. “There's a metal called titanium. It's not used much. It requires high temperatures to work it, and it's too hard for bullets. That's why these are titanium, with a silver coating. Consider them very expensive."

"I don't want to do this,” I insisted.

He continued unfazed, “Now, an angel has limited power on Earth. But, be careful. He certainly can easily confuse or trick you. If he won't come back with Ellul, shoot him. This titanium, most mortals have no idea, is what the Greek Olympian gods used to kill off the Titans. They made spears out of it. That's why the metal is named after them. It can kill an angel. And, I'd just as soon that not be widely known."

He stood up and picked up his fiddle. “I've got an engagement. I'm playing down by the lake. I'm really good, Miles. Pity, you won't have time to hear me play,” Nick boasted.

"I don't want to do this,” I told an empty room.

The door behind me opened. “Ellul is here for you,” Janus said.

"I don't want to do this,” I repeated as I followed her down the long corridor to the front of the building. Two demons, including the one who accused me of larceny, gave us a wide berth as we walked by.

"I thought there was only one God. What's all this talk about the Olympians and Titans?” I'd actually been wondering about this since the Hades helmet episode.

She shrugged. “Sure, there's one now.” She stuck out her chest, just a bit, to change the subject and divert my attention from thinking. “Mortal women were designed after angels like me and Mabel, Miles,” Janus said. Then she grabbed me and kissed me. “See you.” She waved at Ellul. Next, she snapped her fingers and disappeared in a shower of orange and golden sparks.