in a death grip.
‘My sincerest apologies, Master,’ replied the Tempter of Men, bowing before taking his seat. ‘With my new duties and the differences in time zones I made a mistake and it shall not happen again.’
‘My knowledge of the Mortal realm is somewhat limited,’ admitted Lucifer. ‘But I am sure that time zone changes are measured in hours.’
‘For the most part, my Master, you are correct. Some however are in half-hour increments which in fact makes me ten minutes early for this meeting in Kabul.’
‘We are not in Kabul,’ shouted Abaddon, King of Demons, Voice of Lucifer and Chairman of the Board.
In his blood-red robe with gold trim he stood at Lucifer’s right hand, well and truly sick of Mastema’s blatant disregard for protocol. In the centuries since the Board had been formed Mastema had almost never been on time for a meeting, forcing his fellow Lords to wait. The only exceptions had been when he knew the Light Bearer would be in attendance and even then he had cut it perilously close. Mastema had finally slipped and Abaddon almost frothed at the mouth as he prepared to take full advantage of the rare mistake.
Lucifer raised his hand to halt the impending tirade.
‘I know you enjoy making the Board wait, Mastema, and I for one find it hilarious; but not when you do it to me. You are long out of my grace and the next time it happens I shall remove you from your position and imprison you for eternity in the smallest cell I can find.’
A look of concern crept over Lucifer’s face.
‘And what would your poor wife do then?’ he asked. ‘Deumos is a beautiful creature and I find myself short one child. Perhaps I might be able to comfort her, to help her through the grief of her loss.’
‘I’m sure my wife would be honoured by your attentions.’ replied Mastema. ‘And I would not want to see her lonely and untended should I perish. I did however notice a strange burning sensation after my last tryst with her. The ointment for this is in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet if you find yourself with a similar affliction after sampling her womanly wares.’
Abaddon’s rage grew with the grin on the Light Bearer’s face. Mastema had an uncanny ability for avoiding almost certain reprisal; one that never seemed to fail him. The King of Demons, and indeed the rest of the Board, eagerly awaited the day when his excuses and jokes were not enough to dodge punishment.
‘I call this meeting to order then,’ Abaddon said, once his calm had returned and it was clear no immediate punishment was forthcoming. ‘Asteroth, if you would?’
The Treasurer of Perdition, a short, fat Demon-Lord in ink-stained robes, stood to address the Board. There were a few members missing, Mastema noted, most prominently Samael, Bringer of Death and Destruction. The room smelt better for his absence and Mastema assumed the brute would be furious at being left out of something important. He made a mental note to rub the fact in as soon as he saw him.
‘I will not be going over exact figures in any depth during this meeting,’ Asteroth told the Board to their unconcealed delight. ‘But I do have handouts for those who are interested. Our esteemed Master has asked for the most basic of financial rundowns, just enough to give you all some background for today’s meeting.’
The Treasurer flicked through the parchments piled in front of him.
‘Our actual soul count is diminishing; funds have been leaking steadily from it for the past two and a half years. All gains from our last move in the Mortal realm have evaporated and we are cutting heavily into our savings. The projected soul count is abysmal and well short of what we’d need to make up for the losses. In short, our fiscal situation is dire and getting worse with each moment.’
Losing projected souls was bad enough; losing ones that were already in the coffers was unforgiveable. The Lords began eyeing up their peers, looking for a way to escape responsibility for the deficit and the certain punishment that would come with it.
‘Before you all start blaming each other,’ said Lucifer, ‘I want to tell you this is unfortunate but expected. Mastema’s son, who we all know is a hard worker as well as a traitorous dog, has a certain way with the Mortals. It seems Kaarl has a knack for getting them to walk the path of weakness instead of the one to Perdition. I do not know how he can do this whilst still sticking to their pathetic tenets of free will and choice, nor do I care.’
There was a malevolent glint in Lucifer’s eyes as they met Mastema’s.
‘If your little runt wasn’t running Perdition into the ground I could almost admire his accomplishments,’ he said.
Under Perdition’s banner Kaarl had driven the Mortals ever closer to Lucifer’s grip. The Board had lost touch with their prey; they no longer understood the creatures whose souls they were hunting. With Kaarl’s knowledge of them and their new, modern world he had been the perfect choice to lead the charge. He had been young, fresh blood in a battle that had raged since the dawn of Humanity; until he had chosen to defy Lucifer and fight for Paradise instead. The Light Bearer rose from his throne and each Lord struggled in turn to maintain his composure as the Master of Perdition strolled behind him. A few of them even flinched as Lucifer passed their chairs.
‘As for the decrease in the actual soul count,’ Lucifer continued. ‘This is my doing. You have to spend souls to make souls and believe me I am spending them well.
Although the Board would not dare to make a sound while their master was speaking a visible wave of relief swept around the table. A few of its members had heard of the disappearances but not of the scale of them. In truth they didn’t care; it was only the Damned after all. Issues in Perdition only became actual problems if Lucifer deemed them so and the fact that he was behind the declining numbers was a welcome revelation.
‘That is in fact the purpose for this meeting,’ said the Light Bearer. ‘To let you all know what I have been spending them on and where we will go from here.’
The Board waited in breathless anticipation as Lucifer returned to his throne.
‘I am sending the Four Horsemen to the Mortal Realm,’ he told them as he took his seat. ‘And the souls spent have been used to feed them.’
The Board were unable to hide their disbelief. Had Lucifer not been present they would have been in an uproar; instead they sat open-mouthed and wide-eyed, awaiting an explanation. Asmodeus, Demon of Wrath, had a reputation as a Lord of few words. He was the first to speak however when no further information seemed forthcoming. The towering and imposing Lord stood and waited for permission to address the Light Bearer.
‘Forgive me, my Master,’ he said once it was granted. ‘I was under the impression that they were a tool of the Hated One.’
‘God may have created them but whose tool they are is a matter of perspective,’ replied Lucifer. ‘When the End Times come they will ride forth, wiping the worst parts of Humanity from that realm and if we have done our jobs they will in fact be filling our coffers, reaping what we have sown. In essence that would make them mine, not God’s.’
‘Again I must beg your forgiveness,’ said Asmodeus. ‘But are we not far from the End Times?’
‘For now at least that works in our favour; were Humanity to be wiped out at this moment we would well and truly lose the Game.’
Lucifer
