Angel's Curse (26 page)

“Grazia, cancel my meetings for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, Mr S,”
screech.

“And, Grazia, please arrange for the guest quarters to be prepared. West wing I think, it has the best
views
.”

“Yes, Mr S,”
screech.

Satan let go of the button and stood up. He held out a hand to help me down from the desk. It would probably be prudent for me to accept it, no matter the pain. My hand sizzled and once my feet were on the ground he let go.

“It gets easier you know,” he said, “the pain.”

I just nodded. What else could I say? He’d been around forever, had probably experienced more pain that I could ever imagine — and dished it out as well.

“I’m curious as to why hell seems very much like an office block,” I said.

“This is just where I conduct my business. Pleasure takes place elsewhere. You’ll see some of it over time, but for now I shall take you on a tour of the family business.”

I laughed at the irony of it. There would be hundreds of thousands of people topside that worked in offices every day of their adult life, thinking their workplace was hell, and usually it was. If they were destined for a ride down in the elevator they’d just end up in another office block.

“Isn’t it supposed to be hot down here? I mean, where I arrived, at the mouth of hell, it was really hot, but in here it’s quite pleasant.”

“Just because I was cast down into the pit doesn’t mean I
enjoy
the constant heat. When I saw what mortals had achieved I replicated it. They have evolved so much, over so little time. Truly amazing considering that
thing
up there had a hand in it.”

“Do you mean G—”

Satan clamped a hand over my mouth before I could get the word
God
out. I felt my lips blistering and burning, and even my nose seemed to bubble. When he thought I’d had enough he took his hand away.

“We do not use
that
word here,” he cautioned. “It is forbidden, even as blasphemy. You’d do well to remember that.”

Being burned to a crisp thing every time he touched me was a real pain, literally. If he demanded
payment
for his blood it was likely I wouldn’t survive to claim the prize.

20.
Business or Pleasure

Satan started off the tour by showing me the twelfth floor, where the board met. There was a very large off-white rectangular table, about twenty metres long, in the centre of a massive boardroom. The sides and centre of the table were intricately carved with the skeletons of all types of creatures, including man.

“What’s the table made out of?” I asked.

“Ivory,” he said, “mammoth ivory to be exact. It’s a pity mammoths are extinct. You can’t get ivory of that quality anymore.”

“Why don’t you just whip it up?” I asked. Surely he could make things out of thin air like I could — like all angels could.

“Ah, it’s not the same. It always comes out black. You have to be
pure
to make some things, and down here, well,” he gave me a sly grin, “we’re not exactly
wholesome
anymore.”

“Why go for white anyway, surely black would give a better impression.”

“The dust,” he said, and laughed, causing the windows to rattle. “If there’s one thing we have in abundance it’s dust, and it does show so on any dark surface. It’s hard to get good cleaning staff these days and I’m quick to lose my patience.”

I walked over to the windows. They didn’t look out on anything. They were just windows set in the walls with solid rock behind them. I heard a noise and the internal coverings for the windows slid closed.

He shrugged his shoulders. “The view is better when a board meeting is on.”

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes. The rock becomes a window to the world above and we can watch man’s slow slide into my domain. The world is becoming corrupt, Helena, and I
like
it!”

I walked back to the table and trailed my finger along its surface, then rubbed my fingers together. Sure enough a thin layer of was dust there.

“Do you have some influence on the world above?” I asked.

He laughed and the windows rattled again. “No. Man is doing my work for me. I have only to sit back, relax, and wait. That
thing
up there will act soon, no doubt, and bring about the second coming. After that it’s just a short bus ride to the apocalypse, and
freedom!
”

I shivered. Were mortals really that bad, of their own accord?
Duh! Haven’t you witnessed it first hand, Helena? Haven’t you been a victim of it?

“So what’s next?” I asked.

I let Satan decide for himself what I was referring to.

“FUCKSASS,” he said. “Come along now.”

I stopped in my tracks and clenched my fists. I didn’t like the sound of that, what it might mean. What the
hell
had I gotten myself into?

What do you expect when you take a walk on the dark side, Helena, hugs and kisses?

“Come, come, Helena,” he laughed, “it’s only the eleventh floor — Food: Urges, Cravings, Killers—Special Advisory Social Services. You’d be surprised by the number of things demons eat that they shouldn’t, or the things they crave.
Ice-cream for fucks sake!
If that isn’t the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen a demon eat I don’t know what is. It’s perverted, even for demons, and that’s saying something.”

This was interesting. I wondered what foods could kill demons, and what else Satan thought was perverted that mortals thought was perfectly acceptable.

“So what other things shouldn’t demons eat?”

The door to the elevator opened and we entered. The same horrid elevator music was playing and I groaned.

Satan gave me a sideways glance. “You don’t like the music, or is it the confined space?”

“Both,” I replied, and instantly regretted giving away too much information, “but the music is really bad.”

“Good,” he said, grinning, “it’s doing what it’s meant to. I don’t even notice it anymore. But what of confined spaces? Tell me more.”

“I don’t like little boxes,” I said.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispered. “Neither do I, at least
not
the inorganic variety.”

What did that mean? That if the box was alive …
oh,
he meant
that
kind of box! What was it with immortals? No, what was it with immortal
males
and sex? Did he think he could make me blush? It would take much more than the suggestion of sex to make me blush. He’d need to be some sort of physical freak down below — maybe a three-headed python — to make
me
blush. Instead I smiled and found myself wondering what sort of package
was
hidden beneath what he wore.

Satan put his hand to his mouth and coughed. The doors had opened and I was standing there with a stupid grin on my face, miles away.

“Sorry, I was on another planet,” I mumbled.

As Satan guided me down the hallway, he asked, “And what were you thinking about on this other planet?”

“Packages,” I said, “Of all sizes, shapes and colours.”

If he knew what I was referring to he didn’t say anything. Maybe all immortals were a bit out of touch with mortals’ sense of humour.

Satan opened a plain-looking door. Inside was a rabbit’s warren of rooms, and a large communal area. A short, plump, matronly-looking lady rushed over, dry washing her hands.

“Satan, to what do we owe the pleasure? I haven’t seen you here for centuries. You haven’t eaten something you shouldn’t, have you?”

“I’m giving a personal tour,” he said, pointing to me. “Helena, this is Grazia. Grazia, this is Helena. Consider her a VIP,” he told Grazia, “and treat her accordingly.”

That was two women named Grazia in the employment of Satan. I guess over the aeons he would have accumulated a lot of souls with the same name. I wondered how many Helena’s he had.

“You were asking about what other things demons shouldn’t eat. Grazia will answer all your questions. I have something I need to attend to. I shall return shortly.”

He turned and strode away, leaving me with Grazia. She smiled at me and pointed to a couple of chairs.

“Shall we take a seat?” After we’d sat down she continued. “You’re interested in learning more about FUCKSASS, I see. A potential employee perhaps?”

“Not exactly. I’m just passing through, but want to learn as much as I can.”

“Oh, I see.” She sounded disappointed.

Was she looking for a replacement, so she could retire?
Did
you retire from hell, and if yes, where exactly did you retire to?

“I’m very curious as to what foods are considered perverted, and what foods can kill,” I said.

“There are many, many foods that Satan considers perverted.” Grazia looked down the hallway to make sure no one else was around, then whispered, “We don’t agree with all of them. I mean chocolate tastes
so
good it has to be bad!”

I suppressed a smile. Even topside some people thought that, and you
could
have some deliciously wicked fun with chocolate.

“Of the foods that can kill a demon, only one still exists today — honey. Any type of honey will do it. We’ve been trying to get rid of bees for thousands of years, but the pesky little buggers are quite resilient. Mind you, most demons know to avoid it, but there are always the odd few who think it’s a load of shit and give it a go.”

“Honey,” I said, “imagine that. Vampires blood
tastes
like honey.”

“It does?” she asked, turning up her nose. “Can’t say I’ve ever tried the stuff.”

“So, tell me more about perverted food. I find it ironic that some food is so perverted demons should avoid it. What about vampires and the like, do they have to watch what they eat as well?”

“Everyone has to watch what they eat, but at FUCKSASS we’re only concerned with demons. What the others do is up to them.”

I giggled. It was so weird hearing a motherly figure use a word that most mortals considered quite sordid.

“Don’t you find the acronyms here rather funny?” I asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, offended.

“I mean
EVIL
and
FUCKSASS
. There’s probably more, but they’re the only two I’ve come across so far.”

“Perfectly legitimate names,” she said, on the defensive, “for very important branches of hell.”

I felt a shadow on my back.

“Ah, Satan,” Grazia started dry washing her hands again, “we were just discussing your business ventures.”

“So I heard,” he laughed, and the doors rattled. “If you’ll forgive me, Grazia, we must keep moving.”

I stood and followed him back to the elevator.

“She’s a bit touchy,” I said.

“Grazia is a very proud woman,” he laughed. For someone stuck in hell he sure found a lot to laugh at. “She doesn’t like anyone making fun of her
position
.”

I thought I detected
him
making fun of her position as we stepped into the elevator, and groaned when I heard the
same
music playing. Satan laughed again.

“Is it only the one tune over and over again? A bit of variety would be nice.” I turned to face him. “And why do you laugh
so
much? I thought this was hell.”

“Admittedly I don’t laugh very often. You’re like, dare I say it, a breath of fresh air. Very refreshing, and it pleases me. Ah, to see things through your eyes …” He leaned forward and down, until his nose almost touched mine, then grinned. I could feel the heat. “I don’t suppose you’d consider
trading eyes?
”

“No,” I said, taken aback.

He stood up straight again, his hands behind his back.

“It was just a whim, though I’d make it worth your while. You could name your price.”

“Can you bring back the dead?” I asked.

“I can’t bring back what you’re asking for,” he replied dryly.

The Angelic Possession Intensive Care Unit was where demons that had been possessed by the spirit of a disembodied angel came to get the proper care — exorcism of the good. There were currently three patients on the floor, and muffled screams echoed throughout the corridors.

“It’s a very painful process,” Satan explained. “We lose more than we save.”

“Do you mean they turn good?”

“No, they die,” he said matter-of-factly.

I’d probably be screaming too if the odds weren’t that good.

“If they know there’s only a slim chance of having the spirit successfully exorcised, why do they come here?” I asked.