"What's that?"

"The mortals are p.a.w.ns p.a.w.ns. I actually thought it was prawns prawns too, but it turns out that it's too, but it turns out that it's p.a.w.ns p.a.w.ns."

"Are you sure? I've been saying 'prawns' for... must be seven hundred years now."

"Yeah, I've got a friend who knows this kind of stuff. Trust me, it's p.a.w.ns p.a.w.ns."

"p.a.w.ns," said Perp, trying out the word. "You're absolutely certain it's not prawns prawns?"

"Quite," said Mercury. "My friend is a writer. I have total faith in her judgment."

"Well then," said Perp. "p.a.w.ns. Such a strange word. I suppose I'll get used to it though. As I was saying, these mortals are mere p.a.w.ns in a vast ocean, being shoved about by currents beyond the meager understanding of their tiny crustacean brains."

"Indeed," said Mercury. "So will you help me out?"

"You know what happened to the last guy to make a pact with Lucifer, right?"

"I thought he was still hosting American Idol American Idol."

"Exactly," said Perp. "A fate worse than death. Between you and me, I'd rather be a p.a.w.n, scuttling about on my tiny crustacean legs. An unkidnapping, eh? Not sure I have a standard contract for that."

"We'll draw something up. Nothing fancy. You ready to go?"

"I'm ready if you are," said Perp. "Fresh air is the best remedy for clothes that smell like smoke."

"Good to know," said Mercury. "That one may actually come in handy where we're going."

THIRTY-SEVEN.

Other than the fact that there exists no physical plane known as "h.e.l.l," the Mundane conception of Lucifer as presiding over an infernal realm of smoke and magma is largely accurate, if somewhat outdated.

When Lucifer fell from Heaven, his original intention was to stay on the Mundane plane, but the meddling of the angels, not to mention the ever-present irritant that was humanity, forced him to establish his primary base of operations on another plane. Lucifer, who is well-known for his pride, could not bear to share a plane with any demonic ent.i.ties other than his own minions, however. As empty planes are difficult to come by as well as ridiculously expensive, Lucifer found himself with few desirable real estate options. Thus it was that nearly three thousand years ago he put a non-refundable deposit down on a plane that was previously thought to be uninhabitable, even by demons. Plane 3774d was renamed "The Infernal Plane," and Lucifer set about to make it marginally habitable.

At first he attempted to capitalize on the forbidding nature of the plane, building a city of jagged rock palaces surrounded by a moat of magma. The problem was that cable TV and central air notwithstanding, Diabolopolis was so uninviting not to mention difficult to p.r.o.nounce that not even demons particularly wanted to live there. For many centuries, Lucifer's iron grip on his minions ensured that they would remain on the Infernal Plane if they wanted to remain employed, but the proliferation of a dynamic interplanar economy in the late 20th century made it increasingly difficult to keep Diabolopolis populated. And even Lucifer had to admit that living in a mile-high monstrosity of magmite had its downsides. For one thing, he kept getting lost down pa.s.sageways that the contractors had been instructed to make as frightening as possible an instruction which, he later realized, negated the possibility of helpful maps with arrows labeled "YOU ARE HERE." For another, upkeep was a b.i.t.c.h. century made it increasingly difficult to keep Diabolopolis populated. And even Lucifer had to admit that living in a mile-high monstrosity of magmite had its downsides. For one thing, he kept getting lost down pa.s.sageways that the contractors had been instructed to make as frightening as possible an instruction which, he later realized, negated the possibility of helpful maps with arrows labeled "YOU ARE HERE." For another, upkeep was a b.i.t.c.h.

Lucifer decided to sc.r.a.p Diabolopolis and construct a ma.s.sive new complex using the latest principles in Mundane domestic engineering. To entice other demons to move into the new complex, Lucifer himself took occupancy in one of its more prominent dwellings.

So it happened that Lucifer, the Light-Bearer, the First of the Fallen, the Father of Lies, lived in a substantial but surprisingly una.s.suming pink stucco house nestled within a housing development called Hidden Oakes, which backed up against the Hidden Oakes Country Club and Golf Course.

Mercury, who was strolling down Lucifer Lane with Izbazel and Perpetiel, noted that there seemed to be no oakes nor even oaks in the vicinity. In fact, there were very few trees of any kind. Of the few there were, most were dead or dying, and the rest were plastic. Even the hills were apparently artificial, as they were covered in Astroturf and surrounded by a seemingly endless and unforgiving desert landscape, broken only by razor-sharp rocks and the occasional stream of lava. If there was a sun, it was blocked out by a foreboding ma.s.s of reddish-brown clouds hanging low in the sky. The air was hot and oppressive.

"Nice, huh?" said Izbazel, as they strolled toward 666 Lucifer Lane.

"The oak-ees are evidently well-hidden," said Perpetiel, tagging along behind.

"Still, you have to admit he's improved it."

"I don't know," said Mercury. "Why bother to live on the Infernal Plane if you're going to spoil its natural charm?"

"It's centrally located," said Izbazel. "Easy planeport access. And you can't beat the price."

A fork-tailed demon standing in his front yard with hedge clippers eyed them suspiciously.

Perp waved at the demon. "Soapy water will deter aphids on rose bushes," he offered.

"Most of Lucifer's lieutenants live here," Izbazel said. "He promised me that faux Tudor over there for killing Karl."

"Nice," said Mercury. "Of course, they'll nail you on the property taxes."

They were stopped at the gate to Lucifer's house by a ma.s.sive horned demon.

"It's okay, Azrael," said Izbazel. "He's expecting us."

Azrael patted them down and then escorted them inside.

The oversized living room of the house was taken up mostly by a semi-circle of flat panel monitors that stretched across the far wall. Sitting in a wheeled leather office chair in the middle of the monitor bank was a tall man wearing a light blue jumpsuit with flared cuffs and trimmed with rhinestones. His unnaturally thick blonde hair stood at least six inches off his head in an impressive pompadour.

Each monitor was itself split into four screens, each of which was displaying some sort of activity. The screens were too small and distant for them to make out the subjects clearly, but Mercury surmised that they allowed Lucifer to keep up with his machinations across several different planes. Many of them showed settings from Earth shopping malls, bus stations and the like, and that one... was that the New York Stock Exchange? It was an overwhelming amount of input; Mercury wondered how Lucifer could possibly keep up with it all.

The tall blond demon spun in his chair to face his visitors. He did not look happy. To be fair, though, it was clear that he had not been truly happy for quite some time. To say that he was disgruntled would have been misleading, as it implied that there was a time within memory that he had been fully gruntled. He had the look of someone who had let what had originally seemed like a really good idea get well out of hand.

Lucifer appeared to take no notice of Mercury or Perpetiel, focusing all of his rage on Izbazel. "I charged you with one simple task," he fumed. "Kill the Antichrist. Karl Grissom. He's a thirty-seven year old man with the brain of a squirrel and the const.i.tution of a seventy-year old. This is a man who was hand-picked from tens of thousands of people for the precise reason that he would be the easiest to kill easiest to kill. The man's resting heart rate is a hundred and twenty. You could probably give him a heart attack by telling him that professional wrestling isn't real. And yet you couldn't kill him with an implosion that wiped out half of Anaheim. How is that even possible possible?"

"My partner, Gamaliel "

"The one that you hand picked. The one that you a.s.sured me was completely under control. That Gamaliel, correct? Do go on."

"If I may, Your Luminosity," interjected Mercury. "It's clear that Izbazel here is a moron. I don't think there's any reason to tap-dance around that issue any longer."

Lucifer turned his icy glare to Mercury. "Who the h.e.l.l are you? Some friend of this fool, I take it."

"My name's Mercury. I'm going to help you get your Antichrist back."

"Mercury, eh? You have some gall showing up here with only Mr. Ingrown Horns here to vouch for you. What do you know of the Antichrist?"

"I know where he is, for starters," said Mercury. "Which fact, I believe, gives me a leg up on you you."

Lucifer was not amused. "Listen, Mercury, is it? Tell me, why should I not turn you into a newt, right here and now?"

Perp chimed in, "Newts lay their eggs one at a time, unlike frogs."

Lucifer turned his hateful gaze to the fluttering cherub, and Perp shrank into a corner.

"Because I'm the only one who knows where the Antichrist is," explained Mercury. "On the other hand, maybe you have a backup plan I don't know about. Like putting up signs around town, 'Have you seen this Antichrist?' That sort of thing. 'Five foot eight, two hundred ten pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, enjoys fries with ketchup and answers to the name Karl Karl.'"

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Who do you work for, Mercury?"

"I don't exactly work for anyone," said Mercury. "But I do represent the Antichrist."

"You represent represent him?" him?"

"Correct," said Mercury. "I'm his agent."

"The Antichrist doesn't get an agent," Lucifer said. "That's not part of the "

"Yes, yes," said Mercury. "The important thing is that we all work together to find a resolution to our current impa.s.se that is, at worst, only mildly disgruntling to all involved parties. And that's something that I believe I'm in a position to arrange."

"I tire of this," said Lucifer. "I'm inclined to turn the three of you into newts. Mercury, you have thirty seconds to offer me something of value."

"I can get you your Antichrist. He's being held against his will by the agents of another faction in this conflict."

"What faction?"

"Please," chided Mercury, "you're cutting into my thirty seconds." He went on, "I believe that you're planning to withdraw from the Apocalypse Accord on the grounds that agents of Heaven unfairly a.s.sa.s.sinated the Antichrist. Karl being alive and in the hands of a faction outside of your control throws a wrench into your plans. If you cry foul, and then Karl shows up alive and well... or even worse, if this other faction is prepared to produce evidence that you were behind the attempted a.s.sa.s.sination... well, that could get embarra.s.sing for you. An interplanar commission is appointed to investigate your misdeeds, sanctions are imposed.... Feel free to correct me if you feel like I've misrepresented the situation."

Lucifer glared at Mercury. "Go on."

"I want to get Karl free from his captors. You want to be able to ensure that Karl isn't going to pop up at some point and ruin your plans. I suggest a compromise. Izzy and I will spring Karl and return him to you. For your part, you'll let Karl live. You can sequester him comfortably somewhere on one of your less dismal planes, where no one will ever find him. I'm happy because Karl is safe. You're happy because as far as anyone knows, Karl is dead. Izbazel and I will be sworn to secrecy, and you will guarantee our safety. We'll write up a contract. Perpetiel, as an official Angelic Witness, will notarize it."

"How do I know you can actually deliver Karl?"

"You don't. On the other hand, if I couldn't, I'd have no reason to be here, taking a chance at spending eternity as a newt."

"And what is preventing me from just torturing you until you tell me where the Antichrist is?"

"The constraints of time," said Mercury. "Heaven is going to start looking into that implosion in Anaheim. The longer you wait to withdraw from the Accord, the more time they have to figure out what really happened. I haven't told Izbazel where Karl is, so that means you'll have to torture me to get the information you want. And I once sat through a back-to-back showing of Star Wars Star Wars episodes one through three. Give it your best shot." episodes one through three. Give it your best shot."

"I don't suppose you are in fact an agent of this third faction yourself?"

"I'm not," said Mercury. "Not that it matters. You're too smart to risk losing Karl to make an example of me. I hope."

"I think," said Lucifer, "that you should tell me who the leader of this faction is, as a gesture of good faith."

Mercury shook his head. "You're free to investigate after the fact, but for now the details remain confidential."

"I don't take kindly to being toyed with, Mercury."

"No toying here," said Mercury. "Just a simple business transaction. Do we have a deal?"

Lucifer studied him for a long time. Mercury could only hope that Lucifer didn't know about Christine's discovery of the portal in her condo. If he did, then he would know that his plan had already been compromised, which left Mercury with no leverage. It also gave Lucifer a pretty good incentive to turn him into a newt and kill Christine, if he ever got the chance. This last eventuality bothered him more than he would have cared to admit.

Trying not to think about it, Mercury scanned the monitor bank, his eyes darting from one scene to the next. By chance they alighted on a fish-eye view of a small room that was empty except for a small kitchen table and four chairs. As he watched, the image of a young woman flickered into view in the center of the screen. A sickening sensation came over him as he realized that he knew the ident.i.ty of the woman: He was witnessing Christine's arrival through the linoleum portal earlier that day. Evidently this was either a recording or there was a delay getting video from the Mundane Plane.

Still Lucifer stared at him. Did he have any idea what Mercury was seeing? Neither Izbazel nor Perp made any sign of having noticed. Mercury tried to retain his cool facade, but he was unable to tear his eyes away from Christine standing bewildered in her breakfast nook. Finally she left the screen, and Mercury exhaled a barely perceptible sigh of relief.

Lucifer continued to stare.

Christine re-entered the frame, holding what looked like a crystal duck. She slammed the duck-thing down on the floor once, twice, three times. On the last attempt, the duck shattered, and Christine sat there in the middle of the frame, looking like she was trying to figure out if she had another duck somewhere.

Still Lucifer said nothing.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy," Mercury finally exclaimed in exasperation, "It's going to take more than a crystal duck!"

Lucifer was momentarily taken aback, but this non-sequiter evidently had the effect of pushing him toward a decision.

"Fine," said Lucifer. "Write it up. But if you fail, I will turn you into a newt. Perhaps something even worse. Maybe a prawn."

Perp spoke up. "Actually, it's "

"And Izbazel is getting turned into some sort of insignificant aquatic animal either way. I cannot tolerate this sort of failure."

"No," said Mercury. "I need Izzy's help to spring Karl. You can turn us both into newts if we fail."

Lucifer sighed. "My hopes for your plan are not aided by your insistence on his involvement. But let it be as you say. Do not fail me." He waved his hand and turned back to the wall of monitors.

THIRTY-EIGHT.

"Lodi?" said Izbazel. "The Antichrist is in Lodi?"

"No," said Mercury. "Well, he could be. I doubt it, though."

"So why are we here? Hey, isn't this...?"

"Yes," said Mercury. "This is where you managed to lose a tubby 37-year-old man wearing a black polyester cape and got taken in by a three dollar trick spoon."

"I figured it was a trick spoon," grumbled Izbazel. "But you know how gullible Gamaliel is."

Having returned to the planeport, Mercury and Izbazel had charged a temporary portal to Lucifer's account, and were now back on the Mundane Plane. They walked around to the back of Charlie's Grill.

"After you and Gamaliel left, Uzziel found me. I had to leave without the Case of War."

"You left the Case of War here here?"

"Had to. I stashed it before I started the snowman."

"The snowman?" asked Izbazel, confused.