"And you'll help me stop it?"

"Stop it? How on earth do you expect to stop it? And what's the point? If Lucifer fails, the Apocalypse will go on as planned. Either way, this plane is screwed." it? How on earth do you expect to stop it? And what's the point? If Lucifer fails, the Apocalypse will go on as planned. Either way, this plane is screwed."

"I know," said Christine. "But oh for crying out loud." She scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it down the back of the top boy's pants. The boy, a pudgy and unpleasant looking specimen, howled and jumped up.

"Hey!" he yelped. "What's your problem?" He and the other boy, sensing the presence of a common enemy, bent over to sc.r.a.pe up snow to make s...o...b..a.l.l.s.

"A little help, Mercury?" said Christine.

Mercury shrugged. He knelt to make a s...o...b..ll and hurled it at the pudgy boy. It missed by a good two feet.

Both boys began to laugh. "Nice throw," said Pudgy.

"I was kind of hoping," said Christine, "that you would..."

The s...o...b..ll boomeranged in mid-air, coming back to smack Pudgy in the back of the head.

"Hey!" yelled Pudgy, turning around. Snow slid down his neck and back. Then, to the boy's horror, the chunks of snow lifted off his body and began to float in the air in front of him. The remnants of the s...o...b..ll rea.s.semble themselves before his eyes. Pudgy ran, with the s...o...b..ll in pursuit. The other boy, having witnessed these events, ran off as well. Three more miraculous s...o...b..a.l.l.s and the area was deserted except for Christine, Mercury and Timmy. A group of spectators remained on the perimeter of the snow field, but even they had shrunk back. Timmy, who seemed to barely notice the miraculous happenings about him, was happy to be able to get back to his amorphous glob of snow. "This is gunna be the bestest ca.s.shole ever," he murmured.

Mercury nodded. "You have a gift for ca.s.sholes," he said.

"We've got to stop him," Christine said.

A puzzled look crept across Mercury's face. "It's just a ca.s.shole, Christine. Try not to take everything so seriously."

"Lucifer," said Christine through gritted teeth. We can't let him kill Karl."

"Oh," said Mercury. "Right." His brow furrowed. "But as I said, even if we could stop him, all that would mean is that the Apocalypse would go on as originally planned. Is that what you want?"

"No," admitted Christine. "But it seems to me that if Lucifer is betting all his chips on this double-cross with the Antichrist, then he's probably unprepared for the real thing. So if we can stop this plot, or expose it, then he'll be forced to go through with the Apocalypse as originally planned, and he'll get his a.s.s kicked."

"He was always going to get his a.s.s kicked. That was the agreement."

Something about this troubled Christine. "Okay, this is the part I don't get," she said. "This Apocalypse Accord. It's a sort of contract between Heaven and h.e.l.l, right?"

"Right."

"And it was negotiated between the best minds among the angels and the best minds of the demons."

"Oh, no," said Mercury. "Where did you get that idea? It was negotiated by lawyers lawyers."

"Alright, but presumably these lawyers, the lawyers on each side had the best interests of their respective sides in mind."

"Yeah, right. I mean, what?" said Mercury, his attention on Timmy's featureless castle. "Sorry, I'm getting bored."

"My question is, why would Lucifer negotiate a contract that ensures he will lose?"

"Ah," said Mercury. "You're a.s.suming the Apocalypse Accord is a treaty negotiated by equals. The fact is, though, it's more like a plea bargain. You don't get away with rebelling against Heaven. I mean, not long term. It's like those cop shows where they film the bad guy running away from the cops in a stolen car. He's one guy in an old Corolla hatchback, being chased by eighteen cops with automatic weapons in turbo-charged Crown Vics, but he just keeps running."

"Okay, I get it. Lucifer's delusional."

"I mean, the cops have radios. All they have to do is call the cops in the next town."

"Yeah, alright. So he negotiates a deal, trying to make the best of "

"And then they put those nail strips down and blow all his tires, sparks are flying from his wheels, but he still keeps running. He doesn't have a s...o...b..ll's chance in h.e.l.l of getting away, but he just keeps running. It's madness."

"Yeah, I understand. You're saying that "

"And then you realize that you're watching the whole thing from a helicopter. A helicopter helicopter, Christine. You can't outrun a helicopter in a beat-up Corolla with four flat tires."

"Mercury, I got it. Lucifer has no choice but to "

"Still, you have to hand it to him," said Mercury thoughtfully.

"What?"

"It makes for good television. Now, what were we talking about?"

"The Apocalypse Accord. You were saying that "

"Right, so Lucifer's got to make the best of a bad situation. He negotiates the best deal he can, which is a b.l.o.o.d.y battle for this plane. He's going to lose, he knows that, but he's going to create some carnage on the way down."

"And how does that work exactly?" asked Christine.

"How does what work?"

"I mean, this battle, it's supposed to happen at Megiddo, right? That's where the portal is. So what's supposed to happen, exactly? Angels and demons pour through the portal and start beating the c.r.a.p out of each other?"

"Not exactly. The fighting is done mainly by your people. Humans, I mean. The angels and demons are just auxiliary support. And of course the actual battle at Megiddo is just part of it. There are signs and wonders, disasters and plagues, et cetera et cetera. That's about as much as I can tell you. Like I said, I've missed a few meetings."

"But things turn out okay in the end, though, right? The good guys win."

"Yeah, I suppose. But if Lucifer is planning on pulling out of the Accord, there's no telling what might happen."

"That's why we have to stop him. If we can stop his attack through the Glendale portal, then he'll have no choice but to go back to plan A. He'll have to send his demons through at Megiddo instead. They'll be disorganized, and Michael will be ready for him. Maybe with that kind of advantage, the good guys can wipe out Lucifer while minimizing the carnage."

"You're pinning a lot to the hope that Michael isn't itching to lay down some serious destruction, regardless of what Lucifer does."

"Yeah," admitted Christine. "I guess I'm still hoping that the good guys will end up being good guys. In any case, I can't help but feel like all this is happening for a reason. That I was meant to overhear this plan so that I can stop it."

"So you think that Michael has already figured out Lucifer's double-cross?"

"I don't know," said Christine. "Maybe somebody above Michael. Or somebody above somebody above Michael. I can't comprehend all the politics, but I can't shake the idea that somebody somewhere has to ultimately be in charge. And if somebody is in charge, then I can't believe that he or she or it has entrusted the fate of the world to some arbitrary bureaucracy. Life can't be all about deciphering puzzles and playing one side against another. Ultimately you just have to do what you feel is right."

An unexpected voice intruded upon their conversation.

"Yes," said the voice, from the edge of the snowstorm. "Let's all decide for ourselves what is right or wrong. What do we need the Divine Plan for? Perhaps we were meant to disregard our orders and spend our last remaining moments building snowmen."

The figure drew closer. It was Uzziel.

"So you found us," said Mercury.

"You don't make it very difficult," said Uzziel. "A snowstorm in Bakersfield is something of a red flag."

"I'm surprised it took you so long," said Mercury.

"My first inclination," said Uzziel, "was to hit you with a Cla.s.s Four, but I have to admit you piqued my curiosity with the snowstorm. I thought maybe you were up to something. I should have known you were just entertaining yourself. It's what you're best at. And you, Christine. I believe I made it very clear that you were to remain..."

"Listen, Uzziel," said Christine. "I know you have your orders, but there are things happening here that you don't understand. I overheard a demon named Malphas...."

"Malphas!" spat Uzziel. "Figures that you'd have gotten mixed up with that troublemaker. I need to take you both into custody before you complicate things even further."

"We're not 'mixed up' with Malphas," said Christine. "I accidentally transported myself to a place called the Floor, where he and a guy by the name of Nybbas were plotting to send a horde of demons through a portal in my condo tonight."

"Nonsense," said Uzziel. The Apocalypse Accord clearly states that Megiddo will be the beachhead for the demonic onslaught. In any case, it would be impossible to create a portal anywhere else, except from the planeport. And I'd like to see Lucifer try to smuggle a horde of armed demons through the planeport. Now I've had enough of your freewheeling nonsense. There are dates that have to be met, plans that need to be seen through. Enough!"

And as he spoke, a pillar of fire shot through the clouds, striking the ma.s.sive s...o...b..ll. It exploded into great sloppy globs of snow and water. The flakes stopped falling and the snow on the ground suddenly began melting away. As Timmy's castle too began to melt, he once again began to sob uncontrollably.

A circular area of the ground in front of Uzziel began to glow in a strange, intricate pattern.

"All aboard," said Uzziel. It was not a request.

Mercury, Christine and Uzziel filed onto the portal, disappearing into thin air. Timmy, long trails of snot hanging from his nose, sat alone in the mud.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

The Apocalypse Accord is a long and mind-numbingly detailed doc.u.ment, hashed out by seraphic lawyers over the course of several thousand years to cover every conceivable aspect of the Apocalypse. Regarding the Antichrist it reads, in part: .

The Antichrist is to be the official representative of Lucifer on earth. The Antichrist must be a human being of Semitic descent (at least one sixteenth on the father's side), and is to be selected by Lucifer (or his designated representatives) a minimum of forty days prior to the commencement of Phase One of the Apocalypse. Once selected, the Antichrist's name must be submitted to the Seraphic Senate for approval. Upon having his or her name submitted to the Senate, the Antichrist comes under legal protection of the Senate's Committee on Persons of Apocalyptic Interest, and may not be physically harmed or coerced in any way by any parties to this agreement (See "When Are Agents of Heaven Permitted to Attempt to Kill the Antichrist?" in Appendix L). The Senate then has seven days to ratify or veto the selection. If the candidate is vetoed, the Senate must also provide a written rationale for their veto (For a detailed list of Antichrist qualifications, see Appendix F: "So You Think You've Got a Candidate for the Position of Antichrist?"). If the Senate does not veto or ratify the candidate's selection within seven days, the candidate's selection is a.s.sumed to be ratified by default. Once a candidate is ratified, the Side of Heaven has forty days to publicly denounce the candidate as the Antichrist and an agent of Lucifer. Failure to adequately denounce the candidate within forty days of his or her ratification will cause the Hosts of Heaven to be held In Breach of this Accord, and to be ascribed penalties as detailed in Appendix H ("Denunciation: Why It Matters"). Once the candidate is denounced, he or she shall be considered to be the Antichrist and will be accorded various Powers and Princ.i.p.alities (see "Legal and Tax Ramifications of Being Cla.s.sified as the Antichrist" in Appendix P).

The entire doc.u.ment is some seven hundred pages long, and was the work of nearly three hundred angelic lawyers, nearly half of whom work on a plane known as the Courts of the Most High. The Courts of the Most High are the crown jewel of the Heavenly Bureaucracy, employing a bewildering quant.i.ty and variety of civil servants all commissioned with the same task: to prevent anything from happening in the Universe that has not gone through the appropriate channels and had the requisite paperwork signed off by the appropriate authorities, at least one of whom is always at lunch. No actual productive work is done on the Courts of Most High, but the staff of the Courts have the proud distinction of having prevented more work from being done on more planes than any other ent.i.ty outside the United States Congress.

As Christine and Mercury had gotten it into their heads to Do Something, it was inevitable that they would wind up in the Courts of the Most High. Doing Something was frowned on by the Courts, at least if one did not have the appropriate licenses and certifications. The only hope for someone planning to Do Something who ran afoul of the Courts was a phenomenon known as the Bureaucratic Inertia Paradox.

The Bureaucratic Inertia Paradox occurs when one arm of the bureaucracy charged with preventing someone from Doing Something cannot prevent that thing without running afoul of another arm of the bureaucracy. Getting around this other arm of the bureaucracy requires the first arm to Do Something, which it is const.i.tutionally incapable of doing. The bureaucracy is therefore faced with an impossible choice: Either (1) Let Someone Do Something, or (2) Do Something to prevent Someone from Doing Something. Either way, Something happens, which the bureaucracy cannot tolerate. The machinery of the bureaucracy grinds to a halt, spewing forth a noxious cloud of smoke, and is unable to function again until the foreign object in this case, the party attempting to Do Something is removed. Observe: After a brief stopover at the planeport, Christine and Mercury found themselves in a ma.s.sive glittering metropolis that seemed to be nestled in a bank of clouds. Angels darted to and fro over their heads. Uzziel was leading them down a path that appeared to be paved with gold bricks. Two humorless cherubim bearing flaming swords followed behind.

"Is this... Heaven?" Christine whispered to Mercury.

"Yes," said Mercury. "Er, no. That is, this plane is part of the Heavenly sphere of influence. It's known as the Courts of the Most High. This is where most of the business of Heaven gets done. Or is prevented from being done, rather."

"Uzziel told me that Heaven is where G.o.d is."

"Well, yes, technically that's true. On the other hand, G.o.d is not limited by time and s.p.a.ce and therefore is everywhere. Or nowhere. The point is, calling Heaven the presence of G.o.d is like defining the Universe as the place where all the stuff is."

"Huh?"

"It's not a very useful definition, practically speaking. If you're an angel on the side of Good, you've got to draw a line somewhere, so you know where we we end and end and they they begin." begin."

"So Heaven and h.e.l.l are just arbitrary, meaningless terms," said Christine.

"I wouldn't go quite that that far...." far...."

"But you said yourself that you angels define Heaven and h.e.l.l using criteria that have nothing to do with the actual meaning of the terms."

"True," admitted Mercury. "We've essentially redefined the terms to make them more useful."

"But you can't do do that. You can't take a word, strip it of its meaning, smuggle in some other meaning, and then keep using the word as if nothing had happened. It's like North Korea calling itself the Democratic People's Republic of Korea." that. You can't take a word, strip it of its meaning, smuggle in some other meaning, and then keep using the word as if nothing had happened. It's like North Korea calling itself the Democratic People's Republic of Korea."

"What's wrong with the 'Democratic People's Republic of Korea?'"

"Other than the fact that the only accurate word in that name is 'Korea?'"

"What about 'of'?'" said Mercury. "I think 'of' is okay."

"Quiet!" snapped Uzziel. "We're entering the court."

"What are we doing here?" Christine whispered. "What's going to happen to us?"

"Uzziel's taking us to his bosses," Mercury said. "Some of his bosses, anyway. One of the panels he reports to. Uzziel has a lot of bosses. He actually has a whole staff of people dedicated to keeping track of who his bosses are."

"Are we in trouble?" asked Christine.

"Well, I don't think we're getting medals," replied Mercury. "Are we, Uzziel?"

Uzziel shot him a murderous look.

"No medals," whispered Mercury.

Uzziel led them into a building that would have been unremarkable had it not been plated with gold and encrusted with rubies. They made their way through a maze of marble hallways, eventually ending up in a semicircular room with a definite judicial feel to it. At the front of the room, facing the three of them, sat seven angels wearing white robes. They did not look pleased.

"Behold!" exclaimed Uzziel. "The Arbitration Panel of the Subcommittee for Adjudication of Matters of Alleged Violations of the Apocalypse Accord, the honorable seraph Cravutius presiding!"

He turned to the seven angels. "Your Holinesses, I present to you the renegade cherub Ophiel A.K.A Mercury and his accomplice Christine Temetri. These two have been the ones causing all of the trouble of late."

"All of the trouble!" exclaimed Mercury. "That's overstating it a bit. Sure, we were tangentially involved in some some of the trouble...." of the trouble...."

"Silence!" proclaimed the seraph in the middle of the table, who was evidently named Cravutius. He wore a crimson sash that Christine a.s.sumed was meant to indicate his position as the head of the court. Either that or he was the only angel who hadn't gotten the "no sashes" memo.

The crimson-sashed angel went on, "You are in serious trouble, Ophiel. You had better start offering some explanations for your behavior if you expect any leniency at all. Now what exactly is your involvement with the renegade faction?"