In The Lap Of The Gods

by John B. Hendricks

  The crew held together well until they reached the City of the Beermeisters and lost most of the male contingent to a series of taverns. The Norse Goddesses were very tempted to join them, but they had fallen into the role of designated quest drivers, much to their dismay. Living with these guys over the years, however, had hardened them to this task and they had performed it a goodly number of times.

  Lucifer tied Cerberus’ leash to a lamppost and joined them at the Golden Calf. He laughed at the signs. He had a double vodka martini with three olives, also known as a Punish the Pope, and leaned against the bar to sip on it when the owner tapped him on the shoulder. “Lucifer?”

  “Jethro,” Lucifer nodded.

  “I am quite surprised to see you here,” Jethro said. “I was under the impression that you had vacated the premises for greener pastures.”

  “That was my intention,” Lucifer said, savoring the drink. So marvelous and so dry. “But I’ve had to make a detour to take care of some unfinished business.” He finished off the drink.

  “I see,” said Jethro. “I owe you one ten times over for the use of your name in our advertising, so let me give you some interesting tidbits.” He leaned closer to Lucifer and whispered conspiratorially. “A crew was in here not long ago looking for you.”

  Lucifer’s eyebrows arched in interest.

  “There was a short little demon with them, looked kind of like a rodent with scraggly hair. He had a couple of people with him, a fat guy who couldn’t hold his liquor, an old guy in an authentic Hawaiian shirt, a very attractive blond guy and some regular Joe.” He leaned even closer to Lucifer’s ear. “Something was weird about them. They seemed, I don’t know, real?” Jethro removed his mouth from Lucifer’s ear.

  Lucifer thought for a moment and looked at Jethro. “Was the blond-headed man extremely good-looking, as in ‘I wish I were gay so I could date him’ good-looking?”

  “He had the look and smell of a Greek God.”

  “That’s pretty close. They are pals of mine from my brief run on Earth. Allies. We were trying to hook up down here to make a run at the Queen. Did they say where they were going?”

  “I sent them over to the palace of the Beermeisters,” Jethro said.

  “Good,” Lucifer said. He put a finger to his lips. “Mum is the word on them, okay. Don’t want the Royal Her to get wind of it.”

  “My lips are totally sealed,” Jethro smiled, holding out his hand.

  “I’ll have to catch you on the next one,” Lucifer said, putting his empty martini glass onto Jethro’s outstretched palm. “I’m a little short right now.” He gathered up the belligerent Norseman as quickly as he could and steered them outside to their displeased spouses and significant others.

  The Norsemen were briefly chagrined, but got over it quickly, bursting into drunken banter and shouts. Lucifer clunked a few of them together like Curly and Larry in a Three Stooges short and yelled for them to shut up. They reluctantly acquiesced, not because of their good manners, but mostly from coming down from their beer buzz. Without massive doses of caffeine, chances were 100% for heavy sleep in the next hour.

  “Aesir!” Lucifer said. “I have good news! Baldur has recently been through this very city.”

  The Norse Gods cheered raggedly. Several were leaned over trash barrels, making room for another round or two of ale. They raised their fists in brief celebration before returning to their task.

  “I have a line on where they went,” Lucifer said to them. “We must speak with the Beermeisters.”

  Lucifer led them to the outskirts of town. The Norsemen walked erratically, draped onto their female counterpart’s shoulders, and in Hermoth’s case, riding piggyback on a smiling Valkyrie. The Aesir spread out across the front courtyard of the palace and Lucifer lifted and dropped the beer-tab knocker on the emerald green door.

  Lucifer waited for a few moments, then dropped it again. Still no response. He tried the door handle and it silently swung open. He walked inside.

  The gift shop was full of the usual bric-a-brac and it gave Lucifer a body-jolting shiver. He saw the exit to the right and quickly ran to it, cold sweat forming on his forehead. He shoved through the door and stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. He looked out into the dimness and saw row after row of wooden beer vats, quietly giving afterlife a slight bit of purpose for the aimless residents. The smell of hops was intense and reminded Lucifer of the first time he met the Beermeisters. The four brothers had come to him with a proposition. Let them make and sell beer to Lucifer’s subjects and they would be his eyes and ears into the lives of the inhabitants of Hell. Lucifer, who had been quietly enjoying his newly found retirement, realized that an information clearinghouse would be very helpful to him in the pursuits he had in mind to occupy him in the coming ages. He had longed to converse with the great minds of humankind, to debate with them, to learn about them, and somehow make this afterlife a little better for them after all the wrong he had done to them. It was the perfect setup.

  He gathered himself and made his way between the beer vats until he reached the back of the brewery where the Beermeisters resided. When he stepped through the arched doorway into their abode, he saw three of the brothers hunched over a table, slapping playing cards on the table with glee.

  “I’m out!” shouted Bird, “1500!” Ring and Pinky threw their cards on the table in disgust. “Bad winners are just as bad as sore losers,” Pinky said.

  “Some loser surely said that,” Bird responded.

  “Same stakes as usual?” Lucifer interjected. “Losers have to play the ‘Is it Piss or is it Pale Amber Game?’”

  “Lucifer!” The three brothers jumped up and ran over to him, slapping his back, and shaking his hand. “We hoped you would stop by,” Pinky said.

  “You always seem to have the right information for me when I need it,” Lucifer said.

  “We’re still true to our pact,” Ring said.

  “Has Lilith been using you for information as well?” Lucifer asked.

  Bird answered. “I don’t even know if she realizes who we are or what we do. She’s so wrapped up in revamping the torture areas that she’s pretty well ignored us out here in the Hub.”

  “But not for much longer,” Ring said. “She’s working on the final masterstroke that she thinks will change the entire structure of the universe.”

  “What’s her plan?”

  “Lilith is like every super-villain. Her ambitions are standard, which is to take over the world and use if for her own nefarious benefit, a female Dr. Fu Manchu,” Ring said.

  “Or, with the benefit of a little electrolysis, a female Auric Goldfinger,” Pinky added.

  “And throw in a little Dr. Evil for a touch of absurdity,” Bird agreed. “Her plan is to use Eve as bait, capture you and bury you somewhere and then proceed to take on Jehovah in a final apocalyptic battle so she can have the entirety of mankind to torment for eternity without any interference.”

  “Is this information solid?”

  “Actually, we read about it on her blog,” Ring said.

  “Do you know where she took Eve?”

  “We’ve heard a few different things, but my understanding is that she has her hidden at your cabana on the ocean. It adds a layer of poetic irony.”

  “And she probably figured that would be the last place you would look,” Pinky said. “Hiding in plain sight kind of thing.”

  Lucifer picked up the cards from the table and shuffled them absently. “What did you tell the guys that came here earlier?”

  Bird looked at his brothers. “They fit the description of those who are destined to fulfill destiny,” he said to Lucifer.

  “Yeah,” Pinky chimed in. “They had the right mix of warrior, everyday guys, and comic relief.”

  “Pointy went with them,” Ring said. “He’s going to take them to the Portal of Fate and get out of the way so they can do whatever it is they are meant to do.”

  “Which is?” Lu
cifer asked.

  “That’s where it gets a bit murky,” Bird said. “We’ve been prepared for a long time to set these wheels in motion, but we don’t actually know how it’s going to end up.”

  “Like Twin Peaks,” Ring said.

  “Which portal is this?” Lucifer asked.

  Bird gave him the coordinates and Lucifer shook his head and looked at them. “For your information, you can actually get pork rinds at this portal.”

  “Then pick us up around ten bags when you get there,” Ring said. “We’re switching to euchre soon and it would be nice to have them to give the game a nice Midwestern feel.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that you know a little more about this than you’re letting on?” Lucifer said.

  The three brothers ignored his comment as they sat back down for another round of three-handed pinochle.

  “A little beef jerky would be nice too,” Ring added, and began dealing.

  Chapter 76[76]

  The sky was the most beautiful one he had ever seen.

  Absalom squinted. He could even see other stars burning hot in the deep blue sky. Around them huge black obelisks, imposing giants, surrounded them.

  “Volcanic,” Belphegor told them. “Shiny and pretty. Some pieces used for coffee tables. Very chic.” He led them through a narrow path that wound its way between the rocks. It was a tight fit in places for Fat Boy, but the amount of sweat he was generating was sufficient lubrication.

  “I need something to drink,” Fat Boy gasped, his tongue hanging out like a Labrador retriever. “Maybe a chai latte.”

  “No get good latte this close to Inferno,” Belphegor said. “Just bad truck stop coffee. Keeps minions pissed off and over-caffeinated.” He shielded his eyes and peered ahead. “We take a side path, go to the city of the Beermeisters. They give you plenty to drink for a price.”

  “I hope they take debit cards,” Absalom said. “Because I’m all tapped out on cash.”

  “Your money no good here,” Belphegor informed him.

  “Does that mean you’re buying then?” Fat Boy asked.

  “No, your money really no good here. They only take Euros here.” Belphegor laughed. “Don’t worry. Me have credit card.” He pulled out a black rectangle of plastic emblazoned with the words “Hell – Purchasing Department” on the front of it. “They never see expenses for years. Auditing department more interested in cooking books to prevent being cooked by Lilith. Plausible deniability. They all worked for Enron.”

  When they emerged from the path, Absalom stared at a giant open plain pockmarked with large boulders. Yucca plants and Joshua trees grew haphazardly across the expanse and a large rock levee jutted out of the landscape to their right.

  “Lucifer’s Fall from Grace,” Belphegor intoned.

  “Literally?” asked Solly.

  “Yes, this is where he landed in his Fall. Giant crater. No tourists allowed. Duck.”

  Belphegor went down on his stomach and motioned the others to do the same. Fat Boy yelped as a hail of arrows swarmed narrowly past his head. He flopped to the rocks. “Injuns!” he bellowed.

  “No, just panicky guard.” Belphegor took off his shiny blue shirt and waved it in the air. “We friends! We friends!”

  “How do I know this is not a Greek ruse?” a voice drifted to them from the distance. “I know he’s coming for me. It’s not my fault. I was tricked.”

  “Listen fellow!” hollered Solly. “We just want to pass by. We’re not going to give you any problems. We’re on our way to find something to drink. Are you thirsty? Can we get you something?”

  A volley of arrows was the quick response.

  “This is not good,” Absalom said.

  “Being the only dead guy, I’ll have to go talk to him,” Baldur said rising. An arrow caught him in the shoulder, knocking him down. “That smarts,” he said, grabbing the shaft and easing it out of his body.

  “Use this,” Fat Boy said. He pulled his Barry Manilow shirt over his head.

  “Bullet proof vest?” Absalom asked, amazed.

  “Made of the finest Kevlar,” Fat Boy said. “The working threads of the truly paranoid.” He handed it to Baldur. “It’s the biggest one they make,” Fat Boy said. “Just use it as a shield.”

  Baldur nodded and opened it all the way up. An arrow flew at him and he successfully deflected it away. “This may actually work,” Baldur said, amused, and he made his way toward the ridge.

  In a few minutes, the remaining trio began hearing the murmur of voices. One seemed calm and even, the other seemed to range from the tentative to shrieking. After what seemed an hour, there was silence. They stood up and Baldur and the mysterious archer skidded down the side of the levee in a mini-avalanche. The threesome ran up toward them. Baldur was shaking the dust from his clothes.

  The archer was a man of outstanding beauty. Fine delicate cheekbones and long sensuous fingers. A perfect physique. Even Solly thought he was hot.

  “Guys, this is Paris.” Baldur introduced his traveling companions. Paris acknowledged them sheepishly. He exuded boyish charm.

  “I’m sorry about the barrage,” Paris said. “I’ve been guarding that stupid hole for so long I was totally terrified when I saw movement down here. I was in a state of total paranoia.”

  “Been there,” Fat Boy said. “One time I beat my stereo to a broken pulp with a broom handle when I heard strange and demented voices coming from it. Turns out it was National Public Radio. That’s what happens when you become fearful of the food you eat and live for a month on radishes only.”

  Paris eyed him. “The parts of your comment that I understand frighten me.”

  “They frighten all of us,” Absalom said.

  “When I was dying after falling victim to an arrow in the war with the Trojans, I continually dreamed of Achilles.” Paris said. “In these dreams, Achilles still has my arrow stuck in his heel. He is yelling at me that there is no way such a lousy archer such as I could have hit him in the only vulnerable spot on his body and that surely it was Apollo himself that guided the arrow. I’m trying to speak and tell him it was my skill as an archer honed over years of practice but a raven is pecking at my tongue, trying to yank it out, all the while squawking ‘Truth, truth, truth.’ “

  “Yuk,” said Fat Boy.

  “At the end of each dream, Achilles would vow that his thirst for revenge would never be sated and that he would track me down to the very Underworld to pierce me full of arrows for eternity.” Paris looked at them. “I died in fear.”

  Paris’s bow was a huge yew strung with a fine cord of nylon. He rubbed it lovingly. “Dead was much different than I envisioned. There was no Chiron ferrying me across the River Styx. Instead, I awakened in a long line of men that were slowly shuffling forward. When I reached the front, a man with a giant book open on a podium smiled grimly at me. ‘Name?’ he asked.”

  “Paris of Troy,” I responded.

  “Paris of Troy,” the man said. “You may call me the Judge. I am the final arbiter of your eternal fate.” He flipped through the book for a few minutes. “Yes, here you are,” he continued. “You’ve been a busy little boy, haven’t you? Rigged a beauty contest, kidnapped a woman under the influence of false gods, and caused a vicious war between two of the greatest societies on Earth, thus destroying countless potential fabulous citizens of the world.” He glanced over the top of the book at me and clucked his tongue. “Let’s see, on the good side, you were kind to animals and you loved your mother and father. Paid all your taxes. Teetotaler.” He closed the book with a decisive clunk. “Let’s consider this for a moment.” Judge moved out from behind the podium and walked over to a solid gold cabinet. He opened it up and picked two objects from it. He turned to me and said. “Hold out your hands.”

  I obeyed and put my hands out palms up. The Judge placed a feather in my left hand. “This is the sum of your positive acts. A little flimsy, isn’t it?” The Judge plopped a chunk of solid stone into my right hand. It was
too heavy and the rock dropped heavily on my right foot. Pain shot up my leg. “The bad side,” Judge said sadly. “And if you think that little crushing pain is bad, you just wait.” He pointed to a gate with a flashing sign. “Inferno. Inferno. Inferno.”

  “No heaven for you!” the Judge shouted, grabbed me by the collar and shoved me through.

  The group clucked sympathetically. Paris’ voice was crackling with emotion and he took a few moments to gather himself. “Inferno was a horrid place. The screaming never stopped and the smell was terrible. A demon named Dominic told me he was our group’s assigned tormenter, and that his specialty was buggering troublemakers, which he did to us over and over again.”

  “How humiliating,” Solly said.

  “Well,” Paris said. “It wasn’t really that bad. Remember, I lived immersed in Greek culture and I had older brothers.”

  “Yewwwwww,” the fellowship groaned.

  “I was musing on the few fond memories I had of Helen when I was grabbed by a different demon and dragged out into the open air. A charming fellow with a tail introduced himself as Lucifer and told me that he had heard that I had been an archer. I told him that was true and he handed me this bow.” Paris continued to rub it lovingly. “I need you to guard this sacred ground,” he told me.

  “For how long?” I asked.

  “It’s short-term,” he said. “The relief help is named Achilles. Have you ever heard of him?” And he walked off chuckling.

  Paris shook his head, his golden locks flipping. “It was okay for awhile, but as I felt the inevitable getting closer and closer I got crazier and crazier, firing arrows at the occasional traveler and hallucinating. The torment crept into my very soul.”

  Belphegor nodded. Paris’ torment won Dominic Demon of the Decade honors and was ranked 57th in the all-time top 100.