Mercury Falls

by Robert Kroese

  “Anyway, I eventually lost my grip on the Hebrews, and things went downhill from there. Meanwhile, Lucifer was growing ever more powerful, and I ended up working for him. The situation for the Hebrews looked hopeless. After a while only two of the twelve tribes were left, stubbornly resisting Roman rule. Prophets hardly ever appeared any more, and when they did, they’d be executed pretty quickly. Lucifer was especially proud of how he handled John the Baptist. Then this Jesus of Nazareth appeared, and Lucifer decided to make a public display of his execution, to let the Hebrews know once and for all who was in charge. Well, as you know, that went horribly wrong.

  “After that debacle, there was a big shakeup of the bureaucracy in Hell. I seized what I thought was my opportunity to take control of all the Fallen, but Lucifer was more stubborn and resourceful than I gave him credit for. He assembled a coalition of demons against me, and I was defeated. Lucifer cast me down to the Mundane Plane, where he’s had me doing petty errands for him ever since. So when Lucifer needed someone to assume the identity of Katie Midford, Los Angeles waitress-turned bestselling author, he came to me. Of course, he didn’t tell me that I’d have to actually work as a waitress for twelve years before he even put the Charlie Nyx part of the plan into motion. And even after the first book was published, he made me wait tables for three more years, just out of spite, the insolent bastard.”

  Christine’s head was reeling. Karl sat in confused silence.

  “So,” Christine said, “Lucifer put you up to writing a series of children’s books?”

  “Young adult fantasy,” corrected Katie.

  “For what purpose?”

  “Well, to promote Satanism, for one thing,” said Katie. “Although its effectiveness in that regard has been limited. But that was just one motivation behind the Charlie Nyx books. Lucifer also needed a distraction from what was going on in the Middle East. Or, should I say, a distraction from the distraction, because the Olive Branch War was a feint as well. He wanted people thinking that the Olive Branch War was the beginning of the Apocalypse, and to do that, he had to frame it as part of a larger context. A skirmish in the Middle East is hardly news any more, but Lucifer saw his opportunity with that Olive Branch incident. He used his agents to manipulate the news media into imparting that little scuffle with symbolic significance. And to cement the illusion, we played our ace in the hole. First, you get the religious folks worked up about the relatively minor threat posed by Charlie Nyx and then, while you have their attention, you introduce Karl Grissom, the Antichrist.”

  Karl smiled, evidently pleased with himself.

  Christine said, “So you get the fundamentalists up in arms about Armageddon in the Middle East and the Antichrist appearing in California…”

  “Not just the fundamentalists. Anyone who spends their time looking for such signs and wonders. That includes most of the angelic bureaucracy. The idea was to convince everyone that things were going according to plan, like clockwork. So the Council releases the four attaché cases, and things predictably escalate.”

  Christine interjected, “And then Lucifer knocks off Karl, blames it on Michael and withdraws from the Accord. While Heaven is still trying to get its boots on, he attacks without warning from his portal in Los Angeles. Humanity is basically wiped out.” Christine thought for a moment. “But why?”

  “Why? Why does Lucifer want to destroy humanity? Beats me. He’s a sore loser, I guess. You’d have to ask him.”

  “So you don’t want to wipe out humanity?”

  “Not at all,” said Katie. “I want to subjugate humanity with an iron fist.”

  “Ah,” said Christine. “That’s actually not, from my point of view, a huge improvement.”

  Katie shrugged. “Your race was destined to exist at the whims of higher beings. The amount of attention that Heaven lavishes on you is absurd. Eventually they will realize that you’re not worth the trouble. And then this whole plane will be mine.”

  “And how does Harry figure into this?”

  “Harry is plugged into Angel Band. At least to some degree. Most prophets are. That’s where he’s been getting his information. He is able to receive fragments of communications between angels. His rather fatalistic outlook seems to have arisen from his contact with this Eddie Pratt, a rather morose cherub.” She added, “All sentient beings have some sensitivity to Angel Band, of course. That’s how demonic corruption works. Lucifer has a whole plane dedicated to demons planting ideas in the minds of other sentient beings.”

  “I’ve been there,” said Christine. “Not a pleasant place.”

  “I would think not,” said Katie. “We took advantage of this same channel of communication to deliver certain information to Harry. Specifically, we used Eddie to convince him that Karl is the Antichrist, and that it was Harry’s destiny to denounce him. The risk with Lucifer’s plan was that people would see Karl and realize that he couldn’t possibly be the actual Antichrist. Because, you know….”

  She gestured at Karl, who smiled again.

  “Lucifer needed someone easy to control and easy to dispose of when the time came, but we also needed him to be officially denounced by a prominent leader of the faithful. Heaven and Hell keep a rolling list of ten leaders who are eligible to denounce the Antichrist, and most of the ten wouldn’t have lowered themselves to denouncing someone like Karl. The pope, for example. You can’t interest the pope in something like that. It’s beneath him.”

  “Not Harry, though.”

  “No, not Harry. If anybody was going to be taken in by our plan, it was going to have to be Harry. And it had to happen quickly because Lucifer needed things to progress to the point of no return before Heaven got wind of what he was up to. So we whispered in Eddie’s ear, and Eddie whispered in Harry’s ear. You find, after a few thousand years of corrupting mortals, that people with the most rigid religious viewpoints are the most predictable, and, therefore, easiest to manipulate. They’ll do something completely against their better judgment if you can convince them that their doing it fits into some Divine Plan that they can’t understand. Humans are easy. The hardest part of this whole plan was dealing with Lucifer’s incompetent minions. Like that idiot Izbazel. If it were up to him, Karl would have been dead before he was ever officially denounced. I don’t know what Lucifer sees in that knucklehead.”

  “Okay,” said Christine, “But so far it sounds like you and Lucifer are on the same side. Where does your brilliant scheming fit in?”

  Katie said, “Well, you may have noticed that Karl is not, in fact, dead. Izbazel is probably reconstituting right now….”

  “Reconstituting?”

  “Everyone within 500 yards of that anti-bomb was torn to pieces,” Katie said, “including Mercury and Izbazel. Yes, in case you were wondering, I know all about Mercury’s involvement.”

  Christine couldn’t help feeling relieved. “So Mercury isn’t dead?”

  “Angels don’t die,” said Katie. “He’s unincorporated.”

  “Unincorporated?” asked Christine. “Like the Mulholland Corridor?”

  “Lacking a corporeal form. As I said, Mercury and Izbazel will be reconstituting shortly on whatever plane the anti-bomb sucked them into. Izbazel will be called home by Lucifer, who will be hoping for confirmation that Karl has been killed. He’s going to be disappointed. And you do not want to be around Lucifer when he’s been disappointed. Izbazel will be lucky not to spend the next ten thousand years as a crustacean.

  “My plan was originally to contact Heaven and let them know that I have some valuable information about a certain planned sneak attack, and that I might be willing to share it in exchange for certain concessions. I’ve been informed by my contact at the Arbitration Panel of the Subcommittee for Adjudication of Matters of Alleged Violations of the Apocalypse Accord, however, that someone has already tipped them off. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, Christine?”

  Christine said nothing. Inwardly, she was thrilled to realize that not a
bsolutely everything she had done over the past several days had been scripted. She had been able to throw one wrench in the machinery at least.

  “It’s of no importance,” said Katie, waving her hand. “The important thing is that I have Karl. If Lucifer goes ahead with his attack now, he needs my cooperation. Otherwise I can go public with Lucifer’s plans and the fact that Karl is still alive. I’m free! I’m finally free!”

  “So you’re not going to let Lucifer wipe out humanity?” Christine asked.

  “A burnt out shell of a planet is no use to me,” said Katie. “Although a few well-placed anti-bombs could go a long way toward making the human race into an army of thralls.”

  “Okay, well, we’re glad everything worked out for you,” said Christine, getting to her feet. “Karl, I think it’s time for us to go.”

  “Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” said Katie. “Those men outside with the guns? My own personal cherubim guard. They’re out there to keep you two from leaving just as much as to keep anyone else from getting in. Of course, Christine, I don’t particularly need you, except insofar as you help me manage… my other asset.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Christine said, sitting back down on the couch. “You know, you can pretty much just speak English. It’s not like he’s going to understand you anyway.”

  “Who’s not going to understand what?” asked Karl.

  THIRTY-SIX

  “So what did you tell Bright Eyes?”

  “Bright Eyes?”

  “It’s my new nickname for Lucifer,” said Mercury. “I’m hoping it catches on.”

  The two angels had materialized in the Temporary Portal Arrivals area of the planeport and were making their way down the concourse.

  Izbazel grunted. “I told him what you said. That there were some complications with the assassination, and that I needed to speak with him in private.”

  “How’d that go over?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. He threatened to turn me into a newt.”

  “No worries,” Mercury said. “I think I’ve figured out a way for everyone to live happily ever after.”

  “Everybody?”

  “Well, almost everybody. And not so much happy as only mildly disgruntled.”

  “And the ‘ever after’ part?”

  “Actually,” said Mercury thoughtfully, “it’s more like ‘for the very short term future.’ So, to modify my original statement slightly, I’ve probably found a way to keep almost everyone from becoming more than mildly disgruntled for the very near future.”

  “That’s fantastically reassuring,” said Izbazel. “I don’t suppose you’re going to let me in on your plan.”

  “Better not,” said Mercury. “Plans on which you’ve been fully briefed have a poor track record. Plans that you’re completely in the dark on, on the other hand, seem to work out pretty well. Your ignorance seems to be a key element of any successful plan.”

  Izbazel asked, “Does this plan end with me being turned into a newt, by any chance?”

  “With any plan, there’s always a small chance of someone being turned into a newt. I can’t make any assurances. The only thing I can tell you is that you have slightly better odds with my plan than with your last one.”

  “Fine. I get it. I have no choice but to go along with whatever it is you’re planning. But you can at least tell me the next step in your plan for near-universal mild disgruntledness.”

  “Sure,” said Mercury. “Go grab that cherub.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the next step in my plan. I need you to go grab that cherub over there. The one that looks like he fell off the cover of Van Halen’s 1984.”

  “Van what?”

  “Just go get him. Tell him Mercury needs a witness. Hurry up, he’s getting away.”

  Izbazel hmphed and set off after Perpetiel, who was buzzing away toward the baggage carousel. After a brief exchange, Izbazel returned with Perpetiel behind him.

  “Mercury, you old salt!” said Perp. “Have I ever told you how to get red wine out of cashmere?”

  “Minor miracle,” said Mercury. “It’s the only way.”

  “I know, it’s a bitch, isn’t it? Poor benighted mortals. Who’s this guy? He looks like somebody just threatened to turn him into a newt.”

  “This is Izbazel,” said Mercury. “He works for Lucifer.”

  Perp cocked his head at Izbazel. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not so great,” said Izbazel.

  “He suckered you in with stock options, didn’t he? I’ve seen it a thousand times.”

  Mercury said, “How’ve you been, Perp? Anything interesting happening in the world of Transport and Communications?”

  “Same old,” said Perp. “Shoulda seen the pack of noobs here earlier. I swear, these tourists get more tiresome every year.”

  “I’m sure you made out well in tips.”

  “You have no idea. So what’s this about you needing my services?”

  “Got a contract for you to witness,” said Mercury. “Your paperwork is in order, I assume?”

  “Of course,” replied Perp. “As an agent of the Bureau of Transport and Communications, it is my duty to retain the proper certifications. My Witnessing License is in good order, sir.”

  “Good. Give me an hour of your time, and I’ll let you tell me all about how to make mock hollandaise sauce some time.”

  “Sure. Who’s the contract with?”

  “Lucifer.”

  “Ha! Always the kidder, eh, Merc? Seriously, I need to know who the contract is with.”

  “Seriously, Perp. It’s Lucifer. I need his help to unkidnap a friend of mine.”

  “A mortal, I can only assume.”

  “You assume correctly.”

  Perp snorted. “These mortals. They are mere prawns, being shoved about by – ”

  “Pawns,” Mercury said.

  “What’s that?”

  “The mortals are pawns. I actually thought it was prawns too, but it turns out that it’s pawns.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve been saying ‘prawns’ for… must be seven hundred years now.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a friend who knows this kind of stuff. Trust me, it’s pawns.”

  “Pawns,” said Perp, trying out the word. “You’re absolutely certain it’s not prawns?”

  “Quite,” said Mercury. “My friend is a writer. I have total faith in her judgment.”

  “Well then,” said Perp. “Pawns. Such a strange word. I suppose I’ll get used to it though. As I was saying, these mortals are mere pawns in a vast ocean, being shoved about by currents beyond the meager understanding of their tiny crustacean brains.”

  “Indeed,” said Mercury. “So will you help me out?”

  “You know what happened to the last guy to make a pact with Lucifer, right?”

  “I thought he was still hosting American Idol.”

  “Exactly,” said Perp. “A fate worse than death. Between you and me, I’d rather be a pawn, scuttling about on my tiny crustacean legs. An unkidnapping, eh? Not sure I have a standard contract for that.”

  “We’ll draw something up. Nothing fancy. You ready to go?”

  “I’m ready if you are,” said Perp. “Fresh air is the best remedy for clothes that smell like smoke.”

  “Good to know,” said Mercury. “That one may actually come in handy where we’re going.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Other than the fact that there exists no physical plane known as “Hell,” the Mundane conception of Lucifer as presiding over an infernal realm of smoke and magma is largely accurate, if somewhat outdated.

  When Lucifer fell from Heaven, his original intention was to stay on the Mundane plane, but the meddling of the angels, not to mention the ever-present irritant that was humanity, forced him to establish his primary base of operations on another plane. Lucifer, who is well-known for his pride, could not bear to share a plane with any demonic entities other than his own minion
s, however. As empty planes are difficult to come by as well as ridiculously expensive, Lucifer found himself with few desirable real estate options. Thus it was that nearly three thousand years ago he put a non-refundable deposit down on a plane that was previously thought to be uninhabitable, even by demons. Plane 3774d was renamed “The Infernal Plane,” and Lucifer set about to make it marginally habitable.

  At first he attempted to capitalize on the forbidding nature of the plane, building a city of jagged rock palaces surrounded by a moat of magma. The problem was that cable TV and central air notwithstanding, Diabolopolis was so uninviting – not to mention difficult to pronounce – that not even demons particularly wanted to live there. For many centuries, Lucifer’s iron grip on his minions ensured that they would remain on the Infernal Plane if they wanted to remain employed, but the proliferation of a dynamic interplanar economy in the late 20th century made it increasingly difficult to keep Diabolopolis populated. And even Lucifer had to admit that living in a mile-high monstrosity of magmite had its downsides. For one thing, he kept getting lost down passageways that the contractors had been instructed to make as frightening as possible – an instruction which, he later realized, negated the possibility of helpful maps with arrows labeled “YOU ARE HERE.” For another, upkeep was a bitch.

  Lucifer decided to scrap Diabolopolis and construct a massive new complex using the latest principles in Mundane domestic engineering. To entice other demons to move into the new complex, Lucifer himself took occupancy in one of its more prominent dwellings.

  So it happened that Lucifer, the Light-Bearer, the First of the Fallen, the Father of Lies, lived in a substantial but surprisingly unassuming pink stucco house nestled within a housing development called Hidden Oakes, which backed up against the Hidden Oakes Country Club and Golf Course.

  Mercury, who was strolling down Lucifer Lane with Izbazel and Perpetiel, noted that there seemed to be no oakes – nor even oaks – in the vicinity. In fact, there were very few trees of any kind. Of the few there were, most were dead or dying, and the rest were plastic. Even the hills were apparently artificial, as they were covered in Astroturf and surrounded by a seemingly endless and unforgiving desert landscape, broken only by razor-sharp rocks and the occasional stream of lava. If there was a sun, it was blocked out by a foreboding mass of reddish-brown clouds hanging low in the sky. The air was hot and oppressive.