by Michael Todd
Beelzebub walked over to Baal and smiled. “Trust me.”
Baal and Beelzebub sat picking at their food at Baal’s long wooden dining table. There were two expertly plated baby hippos in the center of the table, with ladies’ fingers arrayed around the platters. The two demons were quiet, reflecting on the day they had just had. The battalion was assembled, and the war already planned out and on the books. It had all happened so fast.
Beelzebub sipped his wine. “I want to ask you something. Why are you so cautious? Didn’t you support Moloch and all his mad ideas? I feel as if this would be so much easier to get behind. There is a plan in place. We are using the utmost care, and we are betting on a sure thing here. I do not want to walk in unprepared.”
Baal cleared his throat and patted his lips with his napkin. “You have to understand something, Beelzebub. I was there to support Moloch, but I never went fully in. I counseled caution with every plan he set forth, but he never listened to me. In the end, that was what got him killed—jumping to the mad conclusion that it was a sure bet. Nothing in this war is a sure bet. We are bombarded with something new every time. For fuck’s sake, a Leviathan was pushed into hell not that long ago and threatened Lucifer himself. No plan is ever foolproof, and rushing in is dangerous, so I am cautious.”
Baal took a long drink of his wine and let out a deep breath. He looked at the flames of souls in his fireplace. “Hell is a very dangerous place. It has been for the entire time it has existed. It is the place where the worst of the worst gather in evil. There is no true comradery, but there is always more than enough backstabbing going on. Lucifer is one of the biggest threats to our safety, yet we play with him as if we don’t think we’ll get burned.”
Beelzebub nodded. “I know, but I can’t just sit here and have my honor ruined. I am not jumping the gun here. I did everything by the book.”
Baal smiled. “That’s right, you did. But still, things could easily go wrong. I’ll say it again, this time with a sense of urgency: hell is a dangerous place, and we cannot know what to expect at any given moment. There is no good here, and that makes it both beautiful and deadly.”
Beelzebub agreed. “You are right, it is one of the most dangerous places. Actually, it is the most dangerous place, even for the demons that live here, work here, serve here, and rule here. The layers of hell aren’t full of forgotten souls for no reason. But I am going to change that.”
Baal chuckled, licking his lips. “You are?”
Beelzebub smirked at him. “That I am.”
10
Juntto, big and blue, adjusted the camera just right before hurrying around and excitedly standing by Angie. They were live streaming a cooking show to some of Angie’s fans in hopes of building up Juntto’s fan base as well. He pressed the button to go live and Angie put out her hands. “Welcome to Cooking with Juntto! I’m Angie, his girlfriend and a Twitch gamer, and I am here to lend a helping hand.”
Juntto shuffled in a strange dancing motion, and Angie followed along. “Today, we have some really sweet treats for you. Angie and I pored over recipes and ideas until we found the perfect mix of my culture and your need for dessert every night of the week. This is not a diet show, so don’t expect low-fat, low-carb, or sugar-free in these recipes.”
Angie rubbed her hands together. “That’s what I’m talking about! Just slather it on my hips and I won’t complain.”
Juntto gestured at the counter in front of him, showing off the ingredients. “Today we are going to show you how to make a Scandinavian Almond Cake.”
Angie rubbed her tummy. “For this cake, you are going to need either a Scandinavian almond cake pan or a rectangular tart pan with a removable bottom. Your ingredients are as follows: 1¼ cups of sugar…”
Juntto held up the bowl. “One egg, 1½ teaspoons of pure almond extract, and 2/3 cup of milk…”
Angie held up the dry ingredient bowl. “Also, you are going to need 1¼ cups of flour, ½ teaspoon of baking powder. Aside from those, you’ll want to melt one stick of butter, which is about ½ a cup, and powdered sugar for dusting on hand.”
Juntto walked back to the oven and turned the knob. “The first thing you want to do is preheat the oven to 350 degrees. For those living like my family, that’s a medium fire under the stone.”
Angie pulled out the tub of Crisco and grabbed a paper towel. “You are going to want to generously grease whichever pan you are using before starting. This will keep your delicious cake from sticking.”
Juntto was holding a large mixing bowl with a whisk. “So, while you are waiting for that oven to warm up, you obviously want to have something to put in it. You take your sugar, egg, almond extract, and milk and mix them together until thoroughly beaten.”
Angie smirked. “That’s what she said.” She picked up the different bowls and poured them in as Juntto talked. “Then you add your flour and baking powder, and either hand-mix or mix at low speed in your mixer. When that is thoroughly incorporated, you are going to add that melted butter and mix well again.”
Angie tilted the bowl toward the camera. “As you can see, the batter is nice and smooth, and by the way, it smells yummy. So, now all you have to do is pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake it for thirty to forty-five minutes or until the edges are golden and the cake springs back when you touch it lightly.”
Juntto took the pan back to the oven and set it inside. He pulled another out and brought it to the front. “You probably want to use oven mitts. I have thicker skin than most. Now, this one is ready to come out, but not ready to eat. It has to cool completely before you remove it from the pan.”
Angie patted Juntto’s arm. “That’s right, so what do you do when you have time to kill?”
Juntto slid a platter of food toward her. “We make your recipe.”
Angie clapped her hands excitedly. “We make Kitchen Sink Cookies!!”
They both cheered loudly, and although it was cheesy, her followers were loving it. In fact, more and more people were jumping on to watch. Angie danced her way over to the tray of mix-ins for their cookies. “So, in order to make these, assemble the cookie ingredients first. You are going to preheat your oven to 350, which it is already doing, then line two baking sheets with parchment paper.”
Juntto was sniffing the Scandinavian cake, not paying any attention. Angie laughed. “Looks like someone is struggling to wait it out. So, in a small bowl you are going to combine 1½ cups of all-purpose flour, one teaspoon of baking soda, and a ¼ teaspoon of salt, then set it aside. In a larger bowl, using either a hand mixer or a stand mixer, you are going to beat a ½ cup of slightly softened unsalted butter, ½ cup of packed brown sugar, and ¼ cup of granulated sugar for two minutes. Then you add your egg and vanilla and beat until combined.”
Angie went about assembling the recipe, doing everything she’d just said for the viewers at home. Juntto stood smiling, watching her cook. “Now you want to slowly add the flour mixture, beating until just combined. Using a wooden spoon or a rubber spatula, stir in all but 1/3 of a cup of your mix-ins. You should have two cups of mix-ins to start with. We decided on chocolate chips, potato chips, nuts, peanut butter chips, and Fruit Loops.”
Angie whistled and danced as she dropped the mix-ins into the bowl and folded them into the batter. “Now you are going to drop golf-ball-sized portions of dough a couple of inches apart on the cookie sheets, then take the rest of the mix-ins and put some on each ball of dough. You are going to bake these bad boys for seven to nine minutes until the edges turn a golden brown and the center is still slightly underdone. Then place the baking sheets on wire racks and allow the cookies to cool completely.”
Angie was supposed to be Juntto’s assistant, but she pretty much ended up taking the reins on that one and going for it. She didn’t mind; she had missed baking, and the cookies looked fucking awesome.
Timothy, Sean, Eddie, and Turner were all gathered around a laptop, watching the cooking show at the base. Timothy squealed as Angi
e danced while making the cookies. “She is so damn adorable. Juntto better get in there before one of her followers steals her from him.”
Sean looked at him. “She loves Juntto, though.”
Timothy pursed his lips. “And I loved Keanu Reeves, but he didn’t give me the attention I needed, so I switched to Leo. You go where your heart takes you, my dear.”
Sean laughed, and Eddie jotted down the recipe as Angie made it. When she was done and had the cookies in the oven, Eddie finished typing up the instructions. “This is a beautiful thing right here.”
Sean shrugged. “It’s a really simple but effective recipe. They will probably turn out perfectly.”
Eddie stood up and looked around at the other guys. “We are constantly looking for homemade cookies, and Angie has just given us the tools. We need to make these bitches. See how long it really takes, because that shit always takes me a lot longer than it says.”
Turner chuckled. “Probably because you never remember to turn the oven on.”
Eddie wrinkled his nose. “That is probably true. I do always forget that shit. Anyway, like I was saying, we need to make these bitches right now because I want to eat them ten minutes ago.”
Turner shrugged, looking at the recipe. “I mean, I’m not going to lie. They may not look all pretty like Angie’s, and they may not have all the fancy mix-ins, but I really want some of these things too.”
Eddie slapped him five and put his arms out. “Sean? Timothy? What you think?”
Timothy jumped up, grabbing Sean’s chair. “Please, honey, all you had to say was chocolate. And Sean has no choice, because this wheelchair here is now in my hands, and we don’t want to see him fall out of it because he wants to act a fool, right, Sean?”
He smiled. “No, ma’am. Besides, I’m down for cookies, especially if I get to watch these fools try to use a kitchen. It should be damn entertaining.”
They headed to the new large pantry in the kitchen and opened the doors. Their eyes glistened as they scanned down the snack shelves, looking at all the delicious food. Turner and Eddie jumped in, grabbing things right and left. Turner looked at the others. “Would gummies be good?”
Everyone wrinkled their noses. Turner shrugged. “Hey, I figured I would give it a shot. They are, like, my favorite food group.”
Timothy shook his head. “Maybe I spoke too soon. I feel there might be a fire, an explosion, or all of the above very soon in here. Everybody’s gonna have first degree burns because they’re covered in melted gummy bears.”
One of the soldiers, Carmen, came walking around the corner, fixing her low bun. She stopped in her tracks, looking at the guys rummaging through the cabinets. Lifting an eyebrow, she reached for the bread, keeping her eyes on them. Eddie looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Carmen! Whatcha doing?”
Carmen held up the bread. “I came to make a sandwich, but then I walked into this. What are you guys doing?”
Sean glanced at her with a smile. “We’re gonna make Kitchen Sink Cookies. We saw Juntto and Angie make them on their YouTube cooking show. Wanna help?”
Carmen looked at the bread and tossed it on the counter. “Why the hell not?”
Timothy watched Carmen eyeing Sean, and he smirked and stepped back. “Here you go, baby girl. New guy gets wheelchair duty so Sean doesn’t try to run away.”
Sean looked at Timothy, rolling his eyes. “I am going nowhere, my friend. I am ready to eat these cookies.”
Carmen pushed Sean around the kitchen, handing him bowls and measuring cups as he helped mix the basic ingredients. He had a feeling that they were all going to forget that part and end up eating junk food instead, and he wanted some damn cookies. “You guys got your mix-ins?”
Turner walked up with a couple of things in his hands. “I found chocolate chips and some Pringles. They are plain, so it won’t be like dropping sour cream and onion in there.”
Sean gestured for him to put them down on the counter. Eddie came up and dumped his load next to it. “I found butterscotch pieces, peanuts, and bacon. Will bacon go in these cookies okay, Sean?”
Sean shrugged. “In my mind, there are no wrong answers. But you gotta go cook up about four or five pieces of bacon first. Can’t put it in here uncooked.”
Eddie saluted and ran over to the stove, unwrapping the bacon and grabbing a pan. Timothy pulled himself up on the table and sat there swinging his legs. He smirked and broke out into laughter. “You know what? This is priceless. You boys are supposed to be these big tough fighters with hearts of steel and muscles to match, but all I see are a bunch of boys running around trying to bake cookies for the first time. It’s hilarious.”
Turner turned, frowning. “I’m a badass motherfucker. Don’t you doubt that shit. That doesn’t mean I don’t like cookies. I’m still partly human, after all.”
Eddie stuck his tongue out. “Yeah, Timothy. Don’t stereotype us.”
Timothy rolled his eyes and laughed. “And here comes Eddie from the peanut gallery. Make your cookies. I’ll just sit over here and enjoy the show and wait for the finished product. You know, so I can inspect your bakery skills and teamwork tactics.”
Carmen walked over, giving Timothy a fist-bump. “The smart one over here. If Sean wasn’t rolling dirty in his wheels, I would be right there next to you.”
Beelzebub pulled his jacket closed and buttoned the front buttons. It strained to hold on. Beelzebub sneered. “Time for new clothes and fewer steaks.”
He walked up to one of the buildings in the center of Hell City, opening the carved stone door. Inside, a demon was sitting at a desk with his legs crossed, filing his nails. “Can I help you?”
Beelzebub cleared his throat. “I am here for the demonic sculptor. My name is Beelzebub, and I have an appointment with him.”
The secretary flipped daintily through the pages and then pressed the comm with one finger. “Beelzebub is here to see you.”
The light over the door to the right turned green, and the secretary swished the stringy black hair on his head. “Go on in.”
Beelzebub forced a smiled and walked back, opening the door carefully and ducking into the sculptor’s workshop. There were pieces everywhere, some as tall as the domed ceilings and others small and detailed, sitting on pedestals. This was the best sculptor in hell. Long ago he had gone Earthside, stolen a few of Michelangelo’s assistants, and tortured them until he was able to learn his techniques and talents. He tried for the artist himself, but there was some sort of God protection on him while he worked on pieces for the Pope.
Nonetheless, there was no one who could match his skills, and the project in hand was one that needed to be completed with the utmost care and beauty. It was, after all, going to be seen and revered by the world, even if he had to force the humans to kneel.
The demonic sculptor sighed as he strutted out of the back, wiping his hands off. He was a tall, slim demon wearing a blue Armani suit, wing-tip shoes, a crisp white shirt, and a coordinating blue tie. On his head, he had a white fedora tipped forward. “Beelzebub, darling. Long time no see.”
He took both of Beelzebub’s paws and blew kisses to each side of his cheeks. “What can I do for you?”
Beelzebub looked around for a moment. “I need a gigantic fucking statue of Lucifer to replace the Christ the Redeemer statue on Earth. It has to be even bigger than that one. Able to be seen from space and from miles and miles away.”
The demonic sculptor sat down on the stool and crossed his legs. He lit a cigarette and took a puff, blowing out a ring. “This sounds amazing. Do tell me more. What do you plan to name this gigantic beauty of a statue?”
Beelzebub smirked. “Well, we did some brainstorming last night. There were quite a few really good options, but none rang truer than the name that surprisingly came from one of the slave servants when we asked their opinion.”
The demonic sculptor gasped. “Who knew they had brains? Well, tell me. I’m peeing my pants with anticipation.”
; Beelzebub cleared his throat uncomfortably from the visual he’d just given him. “Lucifer the Defiler.”
The demonic sculptor clapped his hands vigorously. “I love it. It has the perfect ring to it.”
Beelzebub smiled. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
The artist smashed his cigarette out in an ashtray made from a human skull. “Well, it just so happens that I got a visit from a little birdy of a friend of yours—an old man with a terrible cigar habit. He told me you were going to be coming, and that I should get started if I wanted to be on your good side.”
Beelzebub was excited. “Really? So you’ve already started on it?”
The sculptor nodded, his eyes closed. “Already on our way to the most beautiful sculpture ever created. I laid out all the plans that night—the one he came to see me. I couldn’t get the image out of my head, so I had to put it on paper. Once it was all drawn out, I had my minions go and cut me the largest section of lava rock they could find. It took four large demons and over thirty small ones to get it to me. Of course, I couldn’t fit it here, so I took it to my private residence to work on.”
Beelzebub sat down, his attention locked. “That is fantastic.”
The sculptor pulled out a jar of lip balm and applied it to his lips. “I know, and as of right now I have a bunch of souls doing some of the carving with their teeth. They are following my design, and adding that flare to it. I’m just so excited. So, picture this: one hundred and fifty feet tall, horns for days, a long and gorgeous but evil tail, and one huge motherfucking wang, because we all know Lucifer is packin’, okay? All of that. It’s very imposing. I can’t imagine what it will be like to stand at the feet of it.”
Beelzebub shivered. “It will be your greatest work, and not only will demons flock to it, but humans. The smart ones that don’t want to die will feel its deadly stare everywhere they go.”
The both laughed evilly and stopped abruptly. Beelzebub took an envelope of money from his inner pocket and handed it to the sculptor. “I want you to keep this under wraps for now. We’ll just say that it will be a very big surprise for him. We don’t want to spoil the gratitude we’ll receive for such a gift.”
