The Devil's Snare

by Sarah O'Rourke

  "Uday and Qusay? What do you expect?" Gabriel asked with a roll of his eyes. "Evil begets evil."

  "...and don't even get me started on Binny and his brilliant band of infidels," Satan huffed, slashing a hand through the air and raising a low rumble of thunder with his ire.

  Frowning as the bar patrons stared out the glass windows of the pub in confusion, the clear night sky obviously indicating no sign of a storm on the horizon, Gabriel reached a hand out to shove Lucifer's palm back to the table. "Temper, temper," he murmured, "Mortal eyes are watching," he chided.

  "Seriously, Gabe," Lucifer continued in exasperation, "the suicide bombers are blowing my kingdom to hell!" Seeing his old friend's lips twitch in amusement, even the Devil's eyes twinkled as he added, "Pardon the pun."

  "I can't believe you're complaining about gaining Bin Laden's soul," Gabriel chuckled, leaning back in the booth, casually glancing around him.

  "Look, I love an evil spirit as much as the next demon, but that dude has been dragging his waterlogged ass all over my realm, bitching about his soaked turban since he got there while his so-called believers trail after him, whining about where the damned seventy virgins are. I barely restrained my favorite new lieutenant from drying him out over the Lake of Fire and trust me, that was a heady temptation for even me to resist. He takes his duties quite seriously, you know."

  "You realize that neither the Almighty One nor I have any interest in the personnel problems in Hell, I assume. You reap what you sow, Lucifer. At our respective ages, I believed you'd have learned this lesson by now. However, there is another option...simply toss the reins to your...what did you call him? Lieutenant? And simply repent of your sins and return to the fold."

  "You've got a better chance of seeing Michael and I kiss and make nice, Brother. Or watching a unicorn shit a buffalo," the Devil spat, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he eyed the Archangel. "My second in command knows his place...and it's at my right hand. Interestingly enough, he and our Hunter share a common past. Or at least a common interest," Satan informed his former friend easily.

  "Lucifer," Gabriel said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to decipher the doublespeak, "What are you talking about?"

  Smiling widely, the Devil lifted his hands and stretched them above him, linking his long fingers behind his head as he stared back at the Archangel. "Ah, so news of my protégée hasn't reached the other side?"

  "Thoughts of you still cause The One pain, Lucifer," Gabriel confessed softly.

  "Good," Satan snapped coldly, tapping a sharp nail against the table, "I hope it twists around him in a steely vice and..."

  "Enough!" Gabriel barked, his allegiance to the Heavenly Father absolute.

  Snickering, Satan laughed. "You always were an easy mark to goad, Gabriel. You're still a daddy's boy to the core, aren't you?"

  "Get to the point, Lucifer," Gabriel ordered, lifting his square chin and facing the evil across the table.

  "My Lieutenant has a name, my friend, although since he's with me, I'm sure there's a line drawn through it in Saint Peter's Book of Eternal Life. Does the name Ted Bundy ring any bells for you? I believe Bullet Boy over there helped nab him back in the day. Wouldn’t it be a hoot watching them hook up in hell?" he laughed.

  Chapter Nine

  "You're sick, Lucifer," Gabriel spat, his face a mask of disgust as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Seriously deranged and too twisted for words."

  Waving his hands in front of Gabriel's affronted visage, the king of the underworld sarcastically sing-songed, "HELLLOOOO! Devil sitting here, numnuts! What did you think? That Barney would be standing by my right side? That little purple bastard is down in the dungeon with the rest of the pedophiles. Ted has initiative. Drive. Determination. All great markers in a leader."

  Narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward in the booth, Gabriel's words died abruptly in his throat as he caught sight of a familiar face across the bar. "You didn't!" he hissed furiously as the being inclined his head slightly, raising his beer mug in a silent toast. "Of all the low down, deceitful, sneaky tricks..."

  "Well, that sounds like me," Satan acknowledged, shrugging as the Archangel continued to rant.

  "How could you do it? Are you so smug that you thought you'd call in the marker before the bet was even placed?" Gabriel bit out, his hands balling into fists against the scarred table as he faced off with Lucifer before shifting his stare back to the corner of the bar and shaking his head grimly.

  "What in the name of your God are you talking about?" Satan asked curiously as he glanced over his shoulder and followed Gabriel's gaze. "Are you kidding me?" the Devil snorted as he watched the third mystical being in the bar walk toward their table.

  Looking quickly back to Lucifer as he recognized the truly surprised tone, Gabriel relaxed slightly. "You didn't call him?"

  "Alas, no. I did not call in any marks. I choose not to deal with the Soul Collector," Lucifer replied archly. "I let Charon handle our transactions with him," he explained, almost needlessly. He'd learned long ago that the Grim Reaper had no preference regarding Hell or Providence. Death was neither good, nor evil. He simply was. And as such, no amount of bribing or temptation could entice him into bringing Satan souls that weren't his to collect. As far as the being was concerned, he was simply a concierge for souls departing the mortal realm. He either delivered them to St Peter at the Holy Gates or Charon on the River Styx. He could really have cared less which way the soul was heading as long as it got where his summons indicated.

  "Well, boys," Death said smoothly as he reached their table, "fancy seeing you two here. And together, no less," he commented with a smile, a row of perfect white teeth gleaming in the dim light.

  "Soul Collector." Gabriel nodded stiffly, his tone formal as he addressed the Grim Reaper.

  "Nice to see you, Gabriel," Death greeted the Archangel, equally as formal. "I hope all is well in your realm."

  Snorting, the Devil glanced at the Soul Collector. Tonight it appeared as if the being had taken the form of a football quarterback, his sandy hair falling in waves around his face. "Not going to ask me about mine?" he asked snidely, glancing up at the seeming man. "No sympathy for the devil?" Satan grinned.

  "And disabuse you of my status as mere deliveryman?" Death replied coldly, barely canting his eyes in the direction of the evil one. "I wouldn't dream of it."

  "Hey, everybody hates the mailman," the Devil replied with alacrity.

  Rolling his eyes at the evil in front of him, the Soul Collector shook his head. "I really see why you got thrown out," he muttered. "Nobody cares for a smartass," he growled under his breath, impatiently tapping his foot as he checked his beeper.

  "Waiting for someone?" The Devil raised a brow. "Naughty or nice?" he asked, propping his chin on his hand as his gaze lingered on Hunter, his greedy heart already conspiring of ways to gain the illustrious man's soul.

  "None of your business," the Collector muttered as his beeper went off. Nodding to Gabriel as the bell above the pub's door tinkled, the Grim Reaper said quickly, "Duty calls."

  Seconds later, they watched as Death followed a drunk frat boy from the bar, his stride purposeful as his target was acquired.

  "Even odds say that one's mine," the Devil sighed, watching as the Soul Collector hurried after the staggering mortal outside the window.

  "I don't take a sucker's bet," Gabriel replied piously, relieved to be rid of the Soul Collector's presence. He knew the man was truly ambivalent, choosing neither good nor evil, that he performed a service for both sides of Heaven's door, but none of that changed the fact that the being always put a chill in his bones. "Let's just get back to our conversation, shall we?"

  Wagging a finger at Gabriel, the Devil grinned. "That's right. Where were we? Oh yes, I think you were needlessly reminding me of what a vile, disgusting creature I am and I was reminding you that, Duh! I'm the Devil," he said, slowly enunciating the last word.

  "You've put a man that
slaughtered innocent women in your air space… at your right hand, Lucifer." Gabriel shook his head sadly. "How can you...the evil he did...the lives he stole...and you..." Gabriel muttered, unable to comprehend his former brother's decisions at all.

  "Yeah, my boy has initiative," Satan said happily as he smiled, two sharpened teeth easing out onto his lower lip. "You ought to see him gut a demon. It's a sight to behold."

  "Thanks, I'll pass," Gabriel grumbled. "What I will have from you, however, is your word that you'll leave Matthew Hunter's soul to the light," the Archangel ordered. "Lucifer, The One doesn't want to go to war over this, but he will," he informed the Devil softly, his voice hushed.

  Raising one inky eyebrow, Satan lifted his chin. "That important, is he?"

  "Leave him alone," Gabriel breathed. "Please."

  Now, that cast him adrift. It almost sounded as if God's right hand was begging. "What would my oath mean to one such as you, Brother? I am, after all, the Great Deceiver."

  "You're a lot of things, Samael," Gabriel intoned quietly, leaning forward to grasp Satan's wrist, enduring the pain that touching something so unholy brought, but endeavoring to show that he still loved the Fallen Angel, "but, you aren't a liar. You allow people to believe what they choose, you spin a deception, but you don't outright lie. And even if you did lie, you wouldn't lie to me." Gabriel finally withdrew his fingers, wafts of smoke emanating from his skin.

  Feeling a pain in his chest as Gabriel's words washed over him, Satan schooled his features into a neutral mask and shrugged off the Angel's hand. He wouldn't let this old fool see how his soft spoken words had affected him. "Don't bet on it, Gabriel, for that indeed would be a sucker's bet."

  Chapter Ten

  Meeting his on again, off again nemesis' eyes without blinking, Gabriel merely shrugged as he leaned back in the booth. "A sucker's bet is it? I believe you've been known to take a few of those in your lifetime. Should we talk about those trials of Job again?"

  "Not willingly," Satan countered quickly, shaking his dark head as he cast his eyes around the room. "Besides, why would I willingly put myself in the line of fire? Got too many idiots willing to do that for me. I'll let somebody else take the bullet, if you don't mind. I'm still smarting from the last little God strike the One shot into my ass on the fall," he sneered.

  Gabriel let out a small huff of a chuckle. "Do I sense a bit of bitterness in that acrid tone of yours?" Inhaling dramatically, Gabriel smiled as he added, "And is that the rancid smell of sulfur? You only have that particular aroma when you're severely irritated. I thought your demons were always on such a tightly held leash. Losing some of the control in your advancing years."

  "Screw you, Gabe. I'm not talking about the minions," the devil snarled with a roll of his eyes. Waving one hand in the air, he added, his lips twisting, "It's the sheep. They're bound and determined to credit me with items that are their own invention. Let me let you in on a little secret, O Humber Servant of the one true God! Big Daddy created one dumbass lot. I hope he realizes that. And giving them the power to breed like jackrabbits? Stellar plan!" he added sarcastically.

  "The One thinks His creations are quite intelligent, thank you very much," replied Gabriel with a hint of bristle in his tone, his loyalty to the Creator absolute and all encompassing.

  "Well, tell him that this week alone, his little army of ants have decided that I'm responsible for everything from the gridlock in Tokyo to the monsoons off the coast of Sri Lanka." Flopping back in the booth, Satan asked, exasperatedly, "Do I look like I'm a civil engineer or a meteorologist? And frankly, being blamed for the Bermuda Triangle and Indian customer service representatives and their lack of translation skills has begun to sting a bit," he continued grumpily, crossing his arms over his leather-covered chest.

  "Poor, poor pitiful Devil," Gabriel mocked with twinkling eyes. "It's a tough business being the Lord of the Underworld, isn't it? As I've mentioned before though, a simple apology and repentance of your..."

  "Stuff it, Archangel," Satan snapped waspishly. Leaning forward, he braced his muscular forearms against the scarred table as he stated, "I'm getting some comeuppance tonight, Gabriel. I'm taking Matthew Hunter's soul with me and there doesn't seem to be a single thing you can do about it. Free will and all that, remember?"

  Grimacing as Lucifer turned to begin to exit the booth, he forced himself to say, "The One is willing to make a deal, Lucifer."

  Quickly masking his shock, Satan paused, turning slowly back around to face the angel across from him. Raising an inky brow, his dangerously handsome face schooled to reveal nothing, he said, "Is that so?"

  "The One suspected that reason and compassion wouldn't sway you even before he sent me to seek you out," Gabriel explained gravely, the words weighted. "He authorized me to...negotiate," he admitted reluctantly, despising the self-satisfied smirk now gracing the Prince of Darkness's perfectly formed lips.

  "Oh, this is just too good," Satan laughed, his sinfully handsome grin wide and almost feral as his obsidian eyes shined with true mirth. "Your sainted, Holy of Holiest God wants to make a deal with the Devil! He finally needs something from ME!" he cackled gleefully, rubbing his large hands together as he swung his long legs back under the table. "I just bet Michael's tail feathers are bristling as we speak, aren't they? Does he know? Can I please be the one to tell him?"

  "Don't gloat, Lucifer," Gabriel bit out, unhappy that he hadn't managed to navigate these murky waters without resorting to outright bribery. Of course, he'd allowed himself to briefly forget how demented his old friend had become in the last millennium. Oh, how he wished that The One had chosen Michael for this sacred mission. True, the two deities would have only antagonized each other and nothing would have been resolved. And it was entirely possible that all the secrets of their two celestial worlds would have been revealed in a bar room brawl, but it would have saved him this blisteringly painful headache that now plagued him. Rubbing his temple wearily, the angel pursed his lips. "Let's just simply get down to business, all right, Luce? This really isn't a laughing matter," he admonished.

  "Maybe not to you," Satan choked, reaching for his drink and taking a healthy sip of the amber liquid. "For me, however, this is a moment I shall cherish for at least a thousand years." Resting his chin on his hand as he eyed the beleaguered Gabriel raptly, he ordered, almost happily, "Tell me everything. What did The Son have to say to The Father about this idea? I can't imagine Jesus was too pleased at Big Daddy's latest and greatest idea, was he?"

  "Jesus remains as devoted to The One on this day as that horrid day you slithered around his feet as he hung from the Cross, Lucifer," Gabriel hissed defensively. "Our faith in the Divine One is implicit and unquestioned. At least by those of us that are truly in The Holy Light." No way in Creation that he would confide to the Demon in human form about the horrid row that had taken place between the Father and the Son over this very idea. Heavenly affairs were none of Satan's business. Not anymore. And, sadly, it appeared not ever again.

  "That bad, huh?" Satan offered sagely, a pleased smile gracing his lips as he leaned back against the cracked leather booth. "Music to my ears, Gabriel. Dissention in Heaven. It doesn't get better than that," he said as he nodded with no small amount of satisfaction.

  "Lucifer, for the love of God, FOCUS!" Gabriel all but roared, wincing as he drew stares from the bar patrons to their right. Forcing himself to smile faintly at one of the pretty women still looking in his direction, he added more sedately, "I'd like to return home and resume my heavenly form sometime this century. So pay attention. I'm only going to say this once."

  Chapter Eleven

  In a crowded bar filled with an expected scent of hops and smoke, a whiff of sulfur was not exactly the norm. And yet, that's exactly what Matthew Hunter swore he was smelling. The unmistakable scent of rotting eggs pervaded his nostrils, the scent obnoxious and undeniable.

  Blinking as he raised his eyes from their up-until-then normal position above his half-f
illed glass, he glanced around, wondering if his already crappy day was about to end in an unexpected fiery inferno. Just what he needed – a throng of half-plastered idiots who couldn't find their way out of a burning building without help. He was not exactly in the mood to be anybody's knight in shining armor...or tarnished armor as the case was. Not tonight. That was not at all how he intended for his grand finale to unfold.

  No, his grand plan was already working out in his alcohol laden mind. And it was indeed going to be the final plan he ever executed.

  Returning his gaze once again to the only thing that was capable of bringing him even a semblance of comfort, he took a deep sip of the clear liquid, waiting for the vodka to light the inevitable burn. It was time to end it all. He could still see the flaming, soulless eyes staring back at him. He could still hear his gunshot ringing in his ears. He could still feel the ice cold skin of the final remaining victim…the victim they had been too late to save. Again.

  He wasn't going to repeat that. Not again. He wasn't going to be too late for another victim or take another life.

  No amount of penance was going to clear his mind, no matter what Father Jimmy might decree and believe. There was only one way out. And Matthew Hunter was fully prepared to take it.

  No more dicking around, he thought grimly, lifting his glass and draining it quickly while he motioned for the bartender again with his free hand. "Danny, bring me another, will ya?" he ordered gruffly, catching the eye of the elderly man behind the bar.