by RJ Blain
“Thank you, Gabriel. That’s kind of you. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. It is but a small matter, and acts of kindness such as this please Him. You are also keeping my brother amused, which means things are a little more peaceful than usual. For the moment. Things may become less than peaceful in the near future, but only a fool would expect any other result from this situation.”
Any other day, I believed the cops would have been thrilled to question me for hours, but I figured the presence of three divines unnerved them. The CDC representatives packed up the flowers and my envelope, hauling them outside in layered plastic bags. After Gabriel’s comment, I wondered how many would be poisoned before it was studied and contained.
No, I already knew the answer: too many. For the sake of my revenge, I didn’t give a shit I’d been poisoned.
Anyone other than me was too many people, and the archangel’s warning implied someone else would be sickened from the toxin. For all I knew, the Devil could be poisoned, although I doubted anything as mundane as mere poison would do anything other than annoy him.
No, I wouldn’t worry much for the Devil. He could take care of himself. Unlike me, I doubted anything could actually hurt him.
“You would be surprised,” Gabriel said, and it unnerved me I could feel the archangel staring at me despite his lack of a head.
“Has anyone ever told you that reading someone’s mind is creepy at absolute best?” I complained.
“Yes. It is amusing how unsettled humans become when they realize their thoughts are no longer private.”
I pointed at the Devil. “Why isn’t he listening in, then? Well, at least it doesn’t seem like he’s listening in.”
“He is not, unless he deems it to be important. Who knows what he deems to be important? My brother enjoys playing games, and your thoughts would bereave him of his enjoyment of the games he plays. He particularly finds satisfaction in the mystery you are, and he does not wish to ruin that. He is monitoring you for evidence of the toxin, but he is only listening whenever you attempt to remember someone’s name.”
“You’re an asshole,” the Devil announced.
Gabriel laughed. “You are annoyed because I speak the truth, and you do not wish her to know the truth for you think you are sly when you are, in actuality, rather pathetic.”
“Gabriel.” While Lucifer’s growl promised violent retribution, he continued to rub my back.
The cops, rather than try to ask me any more questions, fled from my home and closed the door behind them.
“Mortals,” the archangel muttered. “One little complaint out of you, and they flee.”
Michael sighed. “Limit the bickering for later, if you please—and even if you do not please.”
“Is it bad I know I can’t remember that one cop’s name?”
As one, the archangels shrugged.
“Let me rephrase that. Is the toxin progressing faster than you anticipated?”
“It progresses as anticipated,” Michael replied. “Within a few hours, you will remember only those who have had close ties to you. Your brother’s name will be the one you cling to the longest, but within the next eight hours, even his name shall be gone from your memories. Once that occurs, you will begin experiencing significant discomfort, and your general awareness of your surroundings will diminish.”
“Which is when I’d be most pliable so this Gallo asshole can take advantage of me.”
“Correct.”
The Devil growled.
“Lucifer, please try to contain yourself at least a little.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of my life. “That’s rich. An archangel is asking the Devil for a miracle.”
“It happens from time to time.” According to Michael’s tone, the Devil performing miracles annoyed the hell out of him. I couldn’t blame him for that, although I found the dichotomy of their relationship intriguing.
The Devil liked his brothers, and they seemed to like him, too.
Someone had lied to me as a child. What had happened to the eternal struggle between good and evil? Why were representatives of both sides of their conflict in my living room acting like long-lost friends? I couldn’t ask how the hell I’d gotten dragged into it; I’d thought it’d been a good idea to participate in a hostile takeover of the Devil and everything he owned. The fault went to me on that one.
I appreciated the perks of having lost my mind, though.
“Essentially, what you’re saying is that I have no longer than eight hours to complete my revenge before I’ll forget the details on why I’m seeking revenge in the first place. Is that correct, Michael?”
“Not precisely. You will still have your memories, but your ability to access them will be severely hampered. You will be aware of some elements of your situation, including your determination to indulge in revenge. Your brother’s name will be no longer accessible, but you will remember you have a brother and you care for him deeply enough you would storm the gates of my brother’s many hells for his sake.”
“Yeah, about that. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. What’s the deal with that?”
“My brother is a glutton for punishment, he has an enjoyment of soft things, and he loves beautiful things. That you are beautiful and soft pleases him greatly, especially as you make him work to get his hands on your soft beauty. Doling out rewards in spot-sized pieces was quite wise of you. I recommend you use this as a primary weapon in your arsenal against him.”
“Don’t give her such a terrible idea,” the Devil complained.
“I am not giving her a terrible idea. I am giving her a wise idea, one she should use ruthlessly, for you are a ruthless menace upon this Earth.”
I giggled. “No apocalypses in my living room. Gabriel, tell them they’re not allowed to start any apocalypses in my living room, please.”
Gabriel sighed. “If you wish to start any apocalypses, please do so outside. We are guests.”
“Could you wait to start any apocalypses until after I’ve died and gone to hell, please?”
Both archangels snorted.
Damn. I’d met my fair share of assholes over the year, but the archangels took the cake. “If I swipe my hand over your shoulders, will I hit your neck?”
Once again, both archangels snorted. The Devil halted his massaging duties, rose, and waved his hand where his brothers’ heads should have been. “Pretty cool parlor trick, isn’t it?”
“It is disconcerting and strange,” I replied.
“To look upon the face of an angel is to look upon the face of God, and no mortal may see His face and live to tell the tale. It is not a sight for mortal eyes, although divine blood can make such a vision survivable.” The Devil strode into my kitchen and returned a few minutes later with one of my mother’s clear glass vases. “You’ll find this useful, along with the other six or so of these things you have in your cabinet.”
I resented the loss of my massage, but rather than voice my opinion over its conclusion, I got up, stretched, took the vase out of the Devil’s hands and set it next to my brother’s cage. “Those things are vases. Mom liked fresh flowers. Why will my mother’s vases be useful?”
“You’re going fishing.”
Great. The Devil had lost his mind. “I don’t fish.”
According to the Devil’s expression, I had struck him with a cruel, low blow. “You don’t fish?”
I pointed at my rodent brother, who beat on the glass of his cage, probably trying to prevent me from doing something he wouldn’t like. “When I want fish, I make him get it for me. He’s lazy and goes to the grocery store. Most times, he gets a can of tuna and tells me to cope.” When I ran as a snow leopard, I hunted for fish as often as possible, but I never called it fishing. “Do I look like I fish to you?”
“You’re a cat. Cats like fish.”
“Yes, I do like fish. I like fish when someone provides fish for me. Why would I fish when I can have someone else fish for
me? I prefer my hunts to be where the water is frozen and unsuitable for fishing.”
“Ice fishing is a thing.”
Was the Devil serious? “You live in a fiery hell hole. Where, precisely, would you go ice fishing?”
“I could make it work.”
Men. Why was I plagued with men? I resented the Devil’s general manliness and his ability to annoy me with a single sentence. “You’d probably have an easier time creating fish capable of surviving in lava than making a place suitable for ice fishing in your home.” Shaking my head, I picked up the vase, turning it over in my hands and examining it for damage. “Why would I need a vase to go fishing? You use fishing rods and bait to go fishing.” I thought about that for a moment. “You can use a net, too, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t use the vase to go fishing with. You’d use it to keep your new pet fish. The vases are clear, the fish will be small, and you can amuse yourself with admiring your new prizes this way. One of the perks of running my oh-so-many hells is to tour the various dungeons and admire my prisoners. It’s satisfying. Using the vases prevents you from having to do additional investments.”
I considered the vase in a new light. “Don’t fish need special water?”
The Devil shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. It would just speed up the process of getting them into my hands if they do need special water and you fail to provide it to them.”
“Fish need to live in treated water,” Gabriel announced.
“And what happens if I don’t treat the water?”
“Death is probable. The treatments remove chemicals unhealthy for them from their water.”
“So, you’re saying if I put a fish into tap water, I’ll be slowly poisoning them?”
“It might not be slowly, but yes. You would be poisoning them. Some fish are more sensitive to the water than others.”
“I guess I need to get whatever it is fish need to make the water safe. I guess it’ll be another trip to the pet store, then.” At least I had enough money to handle it. “Can you do me a small favor, Gabriel?”
“What do you need?”
“I need someone to pay the CDC to handle a certain issue, and I’ve already imposed on your brother enough.”
Michael chuckled. “She will not be satisfied until that matter is properly addressed. But you are not imposing upon me to ask for such a small thing. I will handle it on your behalf, as that issue is more of my responsibility than his.”
“Thank you. Do either one of you know what I would need to best care for these fish?” I spent a moment wondering, then it occurred to me the only fish I would care for would be the ones responsible for my brother’s current shape. “While they may deserve to be slowly poisoned, I should care for them properly.”
“Stop being good. Being good involves extra work,” the Devil complained.
“Why would I want to kill one of my prizes?” I asked, and however much I disliked the loan sharks who’d hurt my little family so much, it seemed like a waste of effort to kill something I went through effort to transform and catch.
“Because they would end up in my hands faster, of course. I want them, Darlene.”
Right. I dealt with a sadist, one with a reputation of greed with a significant dose of sin splashed in. “Why would I want my pet fish to end up in your hands?”
“I’ll do an excellent job of torturing them.”
“While I don’t doubt your general torture skills, that does not answer why I would go through the hassle of fishing only to give you my prizes.”
“Do I get to count extra spots if I demonstrate I have a base understanding of what it means to be patient?”
“No.”
“You’re a most cruel creature. Why would you deny me your spots?”
I considered my entire situation, and I wondered if forgetting about the Devil and his wicked ways would be a blessing or a curse.
“It would be both,” Gabriel informed me.
“But would it be more of a blessing or a curse? This may become important, especially if he’s angling for more spots. He is greedy, so I will assume he wants more of my spots. I’m not sure he’s appreciated the spots he’s already received.”
“I appreciate the spots I’ve already received very much, and I will not be satisfied until I’ve explored every single one of your spots.”
“Don’t you have a herd of succubi to review for marriage purposes?” I countered. “Go count their spots.”
“They don’t have spots.”
“I’m sure they could apply spots to their persons for you to enjoy.”
“It’s not the same as enjoying naturally occurring spots.”
“You got kicked out of heaven because you’re a pain in the ass.”
“I got kicked out of heaven because I’m disobedient, but me being a pain in the ass was a factor.”
“I’m not sure I have enough spots to teach you even limited obedience,” I muttered.
“You’re probably right,” he agreed with a smirk.
“Should you revoke spot access, you have an infinite number of spots to work with,” Gabriel stated. “It would be prudent of you to revoke spots when he indulges in disobedience and other unwanted behaviors.”
“You’re not helping, Gabriel.”
“I am not supposed to be helping you in this matter.”
“That’s just cruel of you. I’m surrounded by cruel beings. What did I do to deserve such cruelties?”
I couldn’t tell if I loved or hated him for being such an annoyance. “You’re the Devil. Perhaps your very existence is the reason you are deserving of such cruelties. You might also be a masochist in addition to being a sadist.”
“I’m definitely a masochist, especially if it results in access to more of your spots. If no one has told you this, your spots are lovely.”
“Were you dropped on your head as a baby?”
The Devil huffed. “He would never accidentally drop a baby, although He does not tend to keep His angels young long. I was undoubtedly the cutest of the babies in the heavens.”
“Which tells me He dropped you on your head when you were a baby quite on purpose,” I countered.
“Your cruelty knows no bounds, I see.” The Devil sighed. “Michael, why did you encourage her to storm my gates?”
“She needed no encouragement. She decided to without any intervention on my part, and she did not have any interest in being deterred, so I aided her cause for His reasons.”
“That’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard.”
Great. The Devil viewed my invasion of his home for my nefarious purposes as sexy. Then again, I could use that to my advantage, as I’d never had much interest in learning how to flirt with anyone, mostly due to the general belief I was diseased thanks to my prized tail and my ears. “I think you’re confused and possibly desperate for positive female attention.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m confused, but I will not deny my desperation for positive female attention, but only if the positive female attention includes your spots. I can be very focused when I wish to be.”
“Most people call that obsessive.”
“I would be pleased to be appropriately obsessive over your spots.”
Why hadn’t anyone warned me the Devil was in serious need of therapy? “When is it ever appropriate to obsess over my spots?”
“Always. It’s always appropriate for me to obsess over your spots. I want them.”
“You’re like a child but worse.”
The Devil shrugged. “I know what I want, and I want your spots.”
“But they’re my spots. You can’t steal my spots.”
“If I steal you, then your spots become my spots.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m already the owner and operator of what used to be your many hells. You can’t steal me. I already stole you and everything you own.”
The Devil took his time thinking about that. “But does that mean I can have your spots?”
&
nbsp; I considered throwing my mother’s vase at his head, sighed, and thought better of it. Rather than commit an act of assault against the Devil, I regarded the clear fish prison with interest. “Is there a way to make sure those assholes become fish?”
“Yes,” the archangels and the Devil replied.
“Should I be concerned that the pair of archangels seem somewhat enthusiastic about this?”
Michael came to me and patted my shoulder. “You do an act of great good with evil intentions. While we dislike the sin, you do a greater good, and we see what will change because of what you will do. As such, it would not be prudent for us to interfere with your evil ways. We assist for the sake of the greater good, for all your heart quite enjoys its evil ways.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? If I’m going to end up one of the fucking assholes inhabiting that asshole’s hells, I may as well earn it. What kind of fish am I getting?”
“You shall find out soon enough,” the Devil promised.
Ten
You devils are all insane, aren’t you?
Belial showed up at my house with a beautiful box decorated with fish with long, flowing tails. Upon his arrival, the Devil sulked, pretended to ignore the other devil, and spent his time in my kitchen muttering curses. The archangels lingered, and I didn’t need to see their heads to get the feeling they did not possess a cordial relationship with the devil associated with ruin.
Whatever. I didn’t care. I was grateful I still remembered the devil’s name. I took the box out of his hands. “Thank you, Belial.”
“I’ve been asked to continue assisting you, as my true visage will not bring harm to your mortal soul.”
Ah ha. The Devil resented Belial could do something he could not. “Given an hour or so, I’m not going to remember your name, so please accept my thanks for your help now.”
