by Michael Todd
One of the guys, who was pressed against the wall, shook his head. “He’s not one of us. He’s with Friends of the Devil. Besides, I’ve heard about you. You two are the angels who cause so much shit. Don’t use your evil angel abilities on me.”
Pandora raised her eyebrow and looked at Katie. “This is one of the moments I wish I still had demon powers.”
Katie smiled and walked over to him. “Evil angels? Sir, we’re the good guys.”
The guy at the table next to where Pandora was posted put his fist up, trying to be tough. “We don’t want our world taken over by fucking angels or demons for that matter. So… Fuck angels! Fuck angels! Fuck angels!”
He started chanting and tried to get the rest to join in, but they were too scared. Pandora gave him a deadpan look and strolled over to him. She grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his head down into his gyro several times until he passed out, then reached down and picked up the half that wasn’t smushed and took a bite. “This is good.”
She tossed it on top of the unconscious guy’s head and posted herself next to Katie with her arms folded in front of her. Katie put her hands up. “Look, guys. We don’t have any beef with you. Protest all you want. We just want to find the other group, the Friends of the Devil, so we can let them know what happens when they fuck with one of us. You can either give me some information, or I can turn you over to Pandora, here.”
Everyone stayed silent, and Pandora finally cracked her neck and her fingers. “Okay, have it your way. I’m going to give you two seconds to tell me exactly where those assholes hang out, or you can be sure that every single one of you will spend the next week removing your dicks from your assholes. Hell, I might even switch it up and make you have to figure out who they belong to. If you think I’m joking, remember that I used to be a demon.”
They all swallowed hard, looking at each other nervously. Pandora tapped her foot. After several moments she shrugged, grabbed one of the guys by the back of his shirt, lifted him out of his chair, and grabbed his crotch. “Anybody? No? Sorry, bro. Hope you have insurance.”
Another guy stood up, raising his hands. “Hold on. Wait, okay? Shit. You act like we can just give up information on these guys and live to fucking tell about it. None of us knows where they hang out. If we did, we probably would have already told you.”
Pandora blinked at him, squeezing the guy’s nuts harder. He yelled, and the other one nodded. “All right, fuck. Put him down, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Pandora dropped the guy in the chair and patted his head. “Go on.”
The one standing rolled his shoulders, not looking happy about having to talk. “We don’t know where they hang out or who their leader is. We really don’t know much about them besides that they like to fight. But I did find out a little tidbit of information the other day. I know where they get their t-shirts made. I get my purple Fuck Angels shirts from the same dude.”
Pandora rolled her eyes. “Who in the hell is dumb enough to make you numbnuts t-shirts? Seriously, did they not think it wouldn’t come back on them?”
Katie stepped forward and threw the guy a menu and a pen from the front. “Write the name of the place on here. Who is the guy you buy them from?”
The Fuck Angels guy scribbled on the piece of paper and shrugged. “I don’t know. We order online and pick them up at the store.”
Screams could be heard echoing down the hallways from Lucifer’s throne room. Inside he had seven souls chained up, torturing one at a time. First, he whipped them all, just getting them warmed up, then he brought out all the sharp and fun toys to play with. Dancing around the bodies, he slashed them with his sword, cutting through the flesh he had given them for effect and to worsen the pain.
Lucifer sliced a finger off and shook it in front of the person’s nose, laughing loudly. Beside the throne in her normal chair, Mania sat, propping her chin on her hand. She stared at them without emotion, looking more than bored. Lucifer looked over his shoulder as he laughed, his smile fading as she raised her hand and covered her mouth. She let out a long yawn and resituated herself, staring off in the other direction.
Lucifer pursed his lips and tossed the sword down, then walked over and looked at the different torture devices he had to work with. He grabbed the meat cleaver and strolled to the middle of the group. A woman screeched and screamed loudly. Lucifer reared back and smacked her across the face before grabbing her by the wrist and lopping her arm off at the elbow. She tilted her head back and screamed, tears rolling from her eyes and instantly evaporating in the heat.
“Ha ha!” Lucifer laughed, then turned to face Mania.
He wanted to show her the large portions he could remove and impress her with his skills. She glanced at him and sat up, obviously faking a smile and giving him a thumbs-up. Lucifer turned, dropping both his smile and the arm on the floor. It was obvious that Mania was still upset about her scars and her beloved crows. Lucifer couldn’t bring back the crows, and he couldn’t do any more for her scars than she had already done herself.
Believe it or not, demons could heal themselves, but unless they were inside a body, they weren’t very good at healing others. Their job was destruction, not construction; that was the angels’ responsibility. Lucifer walked down the line of souls, sighing as he dropped the cleaver back on the table. He motioned for the servants, who ran over with a bowl of water and a towel.
After dipping his hands in and washing the blood off, Lucifer glanced at Mania. “Did you hear about Kabbus?”
Mania looked up, slightly curious. “What about him?”
Lucifer chuckled. “He thought he could bring his power to hell. He thought wrongly that he was stronger and better than me, the King of the Damned. Silly little Leviathan. For that mistake, he will forever be burning to a crisp in the fires of hell. I can only imagine what the souls around him think. It made everything more terrifying for them, I’m sure. It’s absolutely fantastic.”
Mania tilted her head to the side. “He attacked you?”
Lucifer shook his hands, taking the towel from the servant and wiping it over his face. “Of course he did. He’s always thought more of himself then he should. We knew that when he first went to Earth. The beast had no concept of fear because that was what he fed on. He plopped around with those nasty tentacles and finally picked on the wrong demon. What is funniest to me is that when I threw him in, his fears turned on him. He is now going to spend the rest of eternity being tortured by his own mind. I think it’s the most fabulous thing I’ve done in a long time.”
Mania had the hint of a smile on her lips, and her eyes shone for the first time in weeks. “How did you kill him?”
Lucifer picked up the pitchfork. “With this beauty, which is why I then turned it on Beelzebub for allowing that beast to get here to hell in the first place.”
Mania giggled, putting her head down and covering her mouth. “The look on Beelzebub’s face was a mixture of terror and confusion. And that armor he was wearing! What was he thinking?”
Lucifer laughed. “I know. I hadn’t seen that in centuries. Time to clean out the closet, old friend. You are not doing yourself any favors.”
Mania thought for a moment and then cleared her throat. “So, did you fear anything when you confronted Kabbus? Did you have any nightmares?”
Lucifer finished cleaning up and walked toward the throne. He climbed the three steps and got down on one knee, then reached out and took Mania’s hand in his. “The one and only fear I have had in centuries was strongly on my mind. I feared that you would be upset for another thousand years. I couldn’t stand to watch you like this for that long. It would rip me apart from the inside out. I care for you, and I don’t want you to be upset. In front of Kabbus, though, I bottled it up and used my strength to conceal it. I didn’t need a waking nightmare about it when I had so many on my own.”
Mania cracked a half-smile and raised an eyebrow, sitting back in her chair. Lucifer looked at her with a cocky gr
in, waiting for her reply. All of the servants bowed their heads, not wanting to witness the king down on one knee. It rarely happened, and always had something to do with a woman.
She tilted her chin up and stared down at her hand in his, giggling slightly. “You really are the Father of Lies, aren’t you?”
Lucifer burst into a grin and began to chuckle from deep in his chest. “The beauty about being Lucifer is that no one ever knows if it is genuine or bullshit. You be the judge.”
By the time Katie and Pandora made it to Kwan’s Kustomizable Klothing, the sun was beginning to set and the evening chill was setting in. They didn’t want to go when it would be the busiest to avoid any contact with innocent people. The problem was bad enough as it was; they didn’t need the general public to get word of it. That would do nothing but breed hate and cause panic that someone was trying to kill Katie, the angel and savior of the city. At least, that was how they referred to her. Pandora loved it; it made her feel like a queen. But Katie still hated the attention. She very much disliked being the center of everyone’s conversations.
Pandora and Katie walked into the shop, and the guy at the counter’s eyes opened wide. “We want no trouble here. No trouble.”
Pandora leaned against the counter, smiling at the small Korean man. “Then I suppose you should either talk to us about the Friends of the Devil or get someone who will.”
He put his hands up and disappeared behind a curtain to the back. Pandora turned around and looked at the pictures on the walls. Everything looked like it was from the early nineties; new then, but now just outdated. Katie pursed her lips, picking up one of the price sheets and reading down the list.
The curtain moved, and a middle-aged Korean woman in tan capris, a blue tucked-in t-shirt, socks, and strappy leather sandals came from the back. She was wearing a visor that pushed down her dark brown bob and fluffed bangs. “You come here and harass my worker? What you want? Say it.”
Katie chuckled, putting down the list. “Is this how you treat all the patrons of your store? What’s your name?”
The woman sneered. “I am Diane Kwan, owner and operator. You are angels. Katie and Pandora.”
Katie smiled. “That’s right. And we came to talk to you about an order, or several different orders, that have come out of your shop.”
Diane looked at them for a moment, then shook her head. “You leave. I don’t answer questions to you. I have no time for this. Hundreds of orders backing up; no time to discuss some order I know nothing about. We make t-shirts, that’s it. No funny business.”
Katie pursed her lips and leaned forward, letting Diane know she was for real. “Some of the Friends of the Devil tried to stab civilians at a train station in Paris. They tried to shoot me in my own home, and then set off a grenade on the top of a crowded building. So, let me tell you how this is going to go. If I leave here, I’m coming back with the police and a warrant. We will turn this place upside down looking for any clues as to who these people are. Or…you can tell me about the fucking t-shirts and stop jerking me around.”
Diane looked at Katie and Pandora and let out a deep breath. She hurried around the counter and went over to the door, locking it, looking out at the street and flipping the Open sign over. She walked back around and stared at Katie. “I been here twenty years. No problems ever. We do work for police sometimes. Now you think I do something wrong? Ridiculous. I take orders, make shirts, and people pick them up. I don’t care what shirt says. That’s their problem, and money in my bank.”
Katie forced a smile. “We don’t think you did anything wrong, but we know that these shirts are printed and picked up here.”
Diane nodded, letting out a sigh. “Yes. But the people only pick the shirts up at my store. Somebody else orders them. I don’t even get the recipient’s name when they pick it up. They give me a code number, and I check to make sure they got the right one. Then I hand them out.”
Katie nodded. “So who are the people ordering these shirts? And how do they order?”
Diane shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not people that order them. It’s one person that orders all three kinds. Fuck Angels, Halos, and Friends of the Devil. He order over the phone with me. Sometime he send email. He is not very friendly, but he pay top dollar, so I rush them. Usually twenty-four-hour turnaround, and he always order more than the minimum. Then he fax me list of codes to hand them out when people pick them up.”
Katie furrowed her brow and looked at Pandora as she walked back to the counter. Pandora looked at her, confused. “I’m sorry, what’s up? I got distracted.”
Katie sighed. “One person orders all three types of shirts. There isn’t any separation. They are creating three central groups, pitting them against each other, and acting like there is more than one mastermind behind all of it.”
Pandora’s mouth dropped slightly open. “What?”
Katie nodded her head. “Yeah, that was my reaction.”
Pandora shook her head and looked at Diane. “Who is this asshole?”
Diane seemed to be slightly intimidated by Pandora, which made Katie hide a smirk. The woman sighed as if it were the biggest inconvenience ever and took out a piece of paper. She typed in her computer and wrote down a name, sliding it across to them. “There. That’s all I know. Leave us alone.”
Katie took the paper and gave her a small salute before walking out of the place. Pandora laughed, coming up beside her and looking at the name. “You should have let me talk to her in the first place.”
Katie chuckled. Pandora shook her finger. “You should start another team. One out here.”
Katie glanced at her. “I already have Katie’s Killers.”
Pandora spread her wings, and they took off. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, that’s a good name, but you need something cooler.”
Katie stared at her with a smirk. “Like what?”
Pandora shrugged. “I don’t know. Slut Girl and The Whores of Avalon.”
5
The moon shone brightly in the clear New York night. Katie and Pandora had gone back to the condo for a bit to take care of the guy fixing the door. When it was done, they had some donuts and sat around trying to get in at least a few minutes of Hygge, planning to head to a penthouse downtown once the sun was completely down.
Landing on the top floor balcony, they walked over to the window and picked the lock. Katie looked at Pandora, confused. “Why not use the door?”
Pandora slid the window up. “Less dramatic.”
She grabbed Katie and they burst through, rolling across the ground and standing up with their hands on their guns. Pandora was giggling and Katie was blinking, trying to get rid of the spins from catching her head on the window when she was coming through. “Next time we use the door.”
Sitting on the couch in front of them was Kyle Style, a dude in his early thirties with tattoos on his skinny chest and his hair pulled back in a ponytail. His place was nice, with stone floors, urban furniture, and eclectic art all over the walls. Sitting next to him on the couch were two prostitutes, who were rubbing his back as he bent over, snorting cocaine through a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill. Neither of the girls was wearing more than a G-string, and he was in a pair of loose shorts, obviously wearing no boxers underneath.
He snorted the cocaine back and closed his eyes, wiping under his nose. Katie glanced at Pandora and whispered, “Did he not see us come in?”
Pandora shrugged. Kyle chuckled, putting his arm around one of the girls. “What did you say, baby?”
She shook her head and pointed at Katie and Pandora. He looked at them and freaked, jumping off the couch and running to a shelf. He pulled his gun out, but as soon as his arm came forward, a heeled boot kicked him across the face. Pandora grabbed him by the ponytail and dragged him across the floor toward the dining room table.
Katie motioned toward the door. “Ladies, get your clothes and get out. We have to discuss some shit with Mr. Style here.”
The gi
rls grabbed their clothes and held them to their chests as they hurried out of the penthouse. Pandora picked Kyle up and slammed him down on the table. “Why are you making all those t-shirts?”
Katie came over to the table and looked down at him. He put his hands up. “Is this what this is about? Fuck, because people buy them!”
Pandora put her finger in his face. “Bullshit. Tell the truth.”
Kyle breathed heavily. “I’m not saying shit until I have a lawyer.”
Pandora sneered and raised her arm to slap him. Katie grabbed her wrist, shaking her head. “He can have a lawyer, but we don’t work for the cops—which means I don’t need a lawyer to go through your fucking shit.”
They went into his office and started going through the boxes lined up against walls. Katie tore open one box and stopped, pulling out a white Halos shirt. She smiled and opened the next one, finding red Friends of the Devil shirts. “I wonder what I’ll find in the next one?”
Sure enough, she opened it to find purple Fuck Angels shirts. The other boxes had hats in them in corresponding colors. She shook her head and stood back, taking pictures of the boxes with the shirts on top of them. Pandora, who had started on the other side of the room, let out a loud laugh.
Katie turned quickly. Pandora stood there waving a red rubber dildo with the words Friends of the Devil written in cursive on the side. Katie covered her mouth and ran over, looking down in the box. “Holy shit. Dildos, shoes, pens, bumper stickers, all labeled with either Halos, Friends of the Devil, or Fuck Angels. This is fucking marketing at its best right here. Create hate, create a market.”
Pandora pulled one of the purple ones out and tilted her head to the side. “I wonder if Barney the Dinosaur was packin’ like this?”
Katie shivered. “That’s so weird. Okay. I’ll take pictures of these boxes too.”
Pandora walked around the room, bouncing a dildo in each hand. “So what do we do about this? I mean, we can’t use this as evidence since we rolled in here without a warrant. And it’s not even a crime. All he does is sell merch.”