Recruitment and Other Hells

Lucifer leaned on the desk and steepled his fingers.

His office was very well organised and richly furnished. The desk was made of dark, highly polished wood and the chairs were high-backed and leather, more suited to lounging than business. That was how Lucifer liked it; he worked best on people who were at their ease.

Nobody needed to know about the anti-anxiety meds rattling around in the top drawer or the half-empty bottle of scotch in the bottom one.

“How?” He tried to keep his tone level. “How did you get fired from being a mall Santa? You literally are Santa.”

Odin shifted in the chair.

“Well, it’s not quite the same. You don’t actually meet people on the night, you know. You’re in and out before they know you’re there – that’s the whole point. Down the chimney, leave the gifts, eat a cookie and off you go. Nobody urinates or cries on you and it’s extremely rare that you get hit in the bollocks by a clumsy child.”

Lucifer sighed and rubbed his temples. Already this was looking like a Bottom Drawer Solution day. There had been too many of those this week. This time of year always brought out the worst in him.

Behind him, through the office windows, the Hollywood hills stood in sunset. Every now and then, a reflection on the glass hinted at a different backdrop. Something distinctly more fiery.

“I don’t know what to tell you, old bean.” He forced the air of nonchalance back into place. “You’re not willing to work in administration, security, hospitality or any of the other industries I suggested. All I could get you was this Santa work in the run up to Christmas.”

“Not real Santa work,” Odin grumbled behind his beard.

Lucifer spread his empty hands to illustrate the lack of options.

“Are you sure you won’t consider events? Bacchus does very well on cruises…”

“Peacocking. It might suit him, but I’m a god of war, of magic and sacrifices, of the glorious dead. And, for the past few centuries, Christmas obviously.”

“One of my better suggestions.” Lucifer grinned. Who could enjoy pride if not the Devil himself? “Your non-Christmas skills are decidedly less marketable unless you’re willing to consider, well, blacker markets. I know some charming warlords in less developed parts of the world who’d pay a lot for a god of war on their side.”

“Get thee behind me.”

“Harsh.”

“Sorry. It’s not that I don’t have the stomach for it anymore, but I don’t think I can be the god who slaughters and the god who brings joy to children.”

“Fair enough. I don’t do judgement – that’s the man upstairs. But, apart from that, I don’t have much to offer right now. Let me know if something changes your mind and I’ll let you know if something else comes up.”

Lucifer waited until after Odin had left before swearing loudly and colourfully. A fired client was the last thing he needed. And fired from being a mall Santa of all things. The humiliation.

Lucifer popped pills from three different bottles and took some meditative breaths before checking his emails. Normally this activity would provide him with the Zen pleasure of viewing a pristinely clean inbox. This time, there was a glaring unread message that furrowed his brow. His heart sank and his stomach tightened as he saw the subject and the sender:

From: The Archangel Raphael

RE: Reckoning

Lucifer froze. With a sudden panicked yelp, he deleted the email, but he knew in his heart that it was too late. They had found him. They’d realised the throne of Hell was empty.

“Calm down,” he told himself. “I can work this out. I just need to think…”

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a blazing winged chariot, which parked right outside the 13th floor window.

“Great. Now, I have to deal with this idiot. Bloody show off. Get a car like a normal person.”

“Boss.” Marie on the intercom. “Mr. Helios is here. He doesn’t have an appointment but-”

“It’s alright, Marie. I expected this. Push Mictlāntēcutli back an hour, will you?”

“Just an hour, boss?”

“If I’m not done with Helios by then, set the building on fire or call in a bomb threat or something.”

Forty-five minutes later, Lucifer was close to praying for the fire alarm.

“Skin cancer, Luce! Skin. Cancer. Unbelievable.”

“Well, if you will bombard humans with radiation…” Lucifer tried to stick with the conversation but couldn’t help refreshing his inbox. No sign of another email. How much time did he have? If Raphael had found him, he’d certainly have the physical address of the office too. It was on his website, after all. If Lucifer bailed out now, he could make the docks in less than half an hour, get on a boat…

“It’s a tanning salon! That’s what they pay me to do! The cheek of it!” Helios spread his arms wide, appealing to a non-existent jury.

“Yes, but I expect they were after a healthy glow and not to be riddled with tumours.”

“Do you have any idea how much the lawsuits could cost me?”

Would Raphael show up here? Burst in through the windows, wings and sword ablaze to drag him back to Hell? He could set a trap to buy himself more time. He still had some Semtex leftover from that thing in Ecuador…

“Hm? Sorry?”

“I need a new line of work, Luce. A new income-stream. You set Apollo up nicely.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. Apollo was one of my first clients. I’m hardly going to set you up as a rival to his business, now am I?”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

“Are you suggesting I lie?” Lucifer paused his paranoia to allow himself a little grin.

“Businesses face competition all the time. Surely there’s enough room for another solar energy company in the region?”

“I’m telling you, Helios, I won’t back it. If you want to set that up, you’ll have to do it yourself. That means working out the mortal paperwork, dealing with the mortal bankers and all the rest.”

Behind the sunglasses of the god, a glow of irritation bloomed but then relented. No-one wanted to deal with tax forms and business loans. That was fiendish work.

“Well…call me if you get one of your ideas.”

Helios left disgruntled but defeated, while Lucifer silently cursed himself. The reality was that he needed Helios in business. It was in his own interests to set the truculent sun god up with something new ASAP but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. He kept thinking about the email. Visions of flaming swords and chains of radiance made it difficult to focus on anything else.

Reckoning.

It had been a long time coming but that didn’t mean he was happy about it and just bowing his head and letting it happen wasn’t his style. Time was of the essence if he was going to avoid Raphael. On the other hand, running off without thinking was a sure way to get caught. He needed to plan. He needed to scheme. He needed to keep his damn business running in the meantime.

The meeting with Mictlāntēcutli was mercifully short but stressful all the same. Lucifer made a mental note to track down whoever had badly explained the paleo diet to the cannibal god and flay them. Mictlāntēcutli was woefully ignorant about modern food standards and absolutely set on his idea for a new restaurant.

“It’s called ‘Eat Yourself! Get it?” he kept saying.

By the time Lucifer stepped out into the sleek reception area, his hands were shaking. It had been a physical effort to keep his composure and that bottom drawer closed.

He checked his phone and found eighteen missed calls from a private number. The word “Reckoning” tolled in his mind like a bell at the hour of execution.

“Idle Hands Recruitment.” Marie answered the phone before its first ring had finished. “We make work for you…I’m sorry? Did you say ‘Archangel Uriel’?”

Lucifer clicked his fingers and the phone spluttered and died.

“Boss?” Marie looked reproachful.

“Sorry, Marie.” He plastered a sheepish grin on his face and hoped it stuck. “I only meant to end the call, not fry the handset. I guess I’m a bit frazzled. Anyway, you should be clocking off. You work hard enough as it is without staying past time. I’m not Ebenezer Scrooge. And can you-?”

“I’ll order a new phone first thing, boss.”

“You’re an angel. Well, not literally. They’re a bunch of bastards. Trust me, I know.”

Vicious bastards. With great big swords and a lot of righteous fury.

“Boss, I know it’s not my business but...maybe try reaching out to someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“I manage your calendar, boss. You don’t have any personal contacts. You don’t take days off. It’s all business, all the time. No wonder you’re ‘frazzled’. You should try making some friends. Someone to talk to.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to protest and found that he had no counterpoint.

“Just something to think about. Try to get some rest.”

“Ha! Haven’t you heard? There’s none of that for me.”

The elevator to the private parking garage opened with a cheerful ding and Lucifer shot it a look that made it reconsider its life choices. Raphael and Uriel. Both of them were on his trail, it seemed, and two archangels were infinitely more deadly than one. His chances of escape had narrowed considerably. His mood darkened further as he descended, and he was potently aware of what a metaphor that was for his whole existence.

Hell was awful. Nobody ever considered that running the place didn’t make it any better. He might be the jailor, but he was still stuck in the jail. Since he left, he’d written a perfect niche for himself in the modern world. Humanity didn’t want sun gods anymore but it was generally in favour of solar power, and if there was one thing gods were desperate for it was continued relevance.

No-one needed to know that it had been the Cruel and Unusual Bureaucracy Department of Hell that came up with the labyrinthine paperwork for business registration, tax accounting and licensing in the first place. Gods couldn’t stand the mortal laws and rules – they’d never cared about such things and would never get their heads around it, no matter how many heads they had. That’s where Lucifer came in, for a fee, to sort it all out for them. Create the problem, sell the solution. Deals at crossroads and fiddle competitions were all well and good, but this was much more satisfying. And lucrative.

He didn’t want to go back below. He might be alone up here, but it was better than being alone down there.

There were several sleek cars lined up in the garage, immaculately polished and gleaming beneath the lights. Each looked like it was going fast even when it wasn’t moving and most of them were the kind of jet black that feasted on photons.

Lucifer had a sudden wild impulse to set them all on fire and the building too. To vanish, to throw it all away and start over somewhere else. To say that such impulses had led him to trouble before was an understatement. He needed to think before he acted, but he needed to vent before he could think.

“Look at me,” he told the empty car park. “I’ve grown.”

Moments later, he hit the streets in one of the sleeker cars, engine roaring and tires screaming. He was tempted to drive until the car burnt out but that wouldn’t help him much. Better to head somewhere he could think for a moment, somewhere the angels would be unlikely to follow. Speed cameras refused to acknowledge his passing and police in the area found themselves otherwise engaged. Lucifer was in no mood to be bothered by the mortal authorities.

He reached Seven Flowers, the most exclusive club in the city, in record time. He ditched the poor tortured vehicle with a valet, who took one look at the smoke rising from the engine and slumped his shoulders. He made no complaint, though, he wouldn’t dare; the staff here were aware of the nature of the clientele at Seven Flowers. Some of them were even believers, actual full-on faithful. A rare commodity in the modern age. Lucifer curled his lip at the thought. Normally, the people who believed in him were either total weirdos or definitely not fans of his work.

Janus was working the door, as usual. Technically, he was working all doors all the time, but some he was paid for and they were usually important ones. If Janus decided your bank vault was staying closed, you couldn’t convince it to open with any amount of hacking or lasers or whatever people open bank vaults with. He didn’t even have to be there. Annoyingly, Janus was savvy enough to be self-employed. Lucifer would have killed to have him on the books.

“You’re supposed to wait in line,” Janus grunted.

“Are you really expecting me to follow rules?”

“Who are you with?”

“Excuse me?”

“People normally book as a group.”

“Well, I’m not ‘people’.” It came out snappier than Lucifer intended.

Janus gave Lucifer an unimpressed look, but he opened the door anyway. Not only were deities, devils and divinities always welcome at Seven Flowers, other than the few trusted mortals on staff, the place was exclusive to them. A haven from the pressures of the mortal world. Seven Flowers promised to never turn them away.

Music thumped from within as soon as the door was opened; even sound couldn’t cross a threshold that Janus had declared closed. Lucifer felt a slight sigh of relief. Raging archangels wouldn’t be allowed to storm in and take him. Seven Flowers was neutral ground, outside of their jurisdiction. He could buy a few hours of time here to think up a plan.

“I’ll come up with something. I’m the Devil.”

“I’m the Devil!” Lucifer slammed the empty glass down and the barmaid reflexively poured another. “Why should I go back? I don’t follow rules! That’s the point!”

“Bunch of bastards. Just like the Aesir!” Loki slurred a little and grumbled away to himself. Lucifer ignored him.

Behind them, the music pounded and the crowd writhed. About the room, the seven coloured lights, immaculate constructions of steel and painted glass made in the shape of flowers, took their turns to light the space. The dancefloor of Seven Flowers was legendary, but Lucifer never partook. He had issues with surrendering control like that.

The reason for that legendary status was Xōchipilli, who moved amongst the crowd like a fish gliding through rainbow water. The ruler of that domain, his presence magnified the effect of the rhythm on the dancers. For all intents and purposes, he was the dancefloor. If you gave yourself willingly, you’d dance all night, and it looked like plenty of people were in a giving mood.

Cernunnos danced with the Morrigan who shifted back and forth across her three selves: Badb, Macha and Nemain, each gesticulating in a wildly different style.

Zeus and Hera looked very close, and Lucifer wondered sardonically how long that would last this time.

Izanami, Anubis and Mictlāntēcutli staggered off back to their booth, where fresh cocktails waited. Corpse Revivers, naturally.

Everyone seemed to have someone. Was Marie right?

“How come we ne’er wen’ inna business together?” Loki made three failed attempts to tap Lucifer on the arm and almost fell off his barstool on the last one.

“How could I trust you? You’re a liar.”

“So’re you!”

“I’m not, actually. That’s a common misconception.”

“Oh. Really?”

“No, that was a lie.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, the ship of his thoughts hopelessly lost in the fog of booze.

“Well, well! What a delightful surprise this is!” Natajara’s booming voice carried easily over the music. Lucifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to the host. “You don’t come here often; we thought you didn’t like us!”

“Not at all. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we’re the only gods who opened a business in this town without your help!” Nataraja gave a booming laugh and clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, rocking him on the bar stool. He was tall, with a dancer’s lithe physique, broad at the shoulders and tapered into a slender waist. Lucifer forced a smile.

“And I wish you every success.”

“It wasn’t even that hard!” Nataraja continued to boom. “Xōchipilli and I handled the paperwork just fine together! You may have everyone else convinced that they can’t thrive in this world without your help, but not us, eh? Teamwork!”

“Alright, alright!” Lucifer hissed through his smile, glancing about. The last thing he needed was a dip in business.

“You seem tense, my friend! Another drink for Lucifer!”

Beside them, Loki attempted to stand, got his legs tangled in the barstool and fell into a heap.

“Bloody Aesir!” He struggled to free himself from the non-trap he was in. “This is their doing, I know it!”

“I think I’ve had enough, thank you.” Lucifer gave Nataraja a polite nod and stepped over the struggling Loki. “Have a lovely evening.”

The night was cold, but Lucifer left his car at the club. He was reasonably sure it wouldn’t run again anyway. Even sports cars weren’t supposed to be pushed past their limits like that. Lucifer wasn’t sorry about it. So far as he was concerned that was the point of sports cars. All things had a purpose.

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day!”

Lucifer swore under his breath. There was no way he could escape. He’d been caught in the open and Raphael was faster than him. There would be no running. He turned to face the archangel.

“That’s funny, I’ve been avoiding you all day.”

Raphael was tall and blonde and handsome in a way that Lucifer would describe as “boring”. He let out a mild sigh of frustration which Lucifer took as a win.

“I had a funny feeling I’d find you here.” Raphael couldn’t keep the slight curl of disgust from his lips.

“Oh good. Start early with the judgements. Shouldn’t you be off curing cancer or tending to the sick or something?”

“How is it that you make it sound like that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s a skill. Where’s Uriel?” He tried to keep his tone casual.

“Not here. He almost found you a few years ago, you know. Moscow.”

“Ha. I was out of there before his feet touched the snow. Made enough money to set myself up here, though. Just one of you then?”

“One will be enough. You got my email?”

“Email? Sorry, no. Didn’t get it. Maybe it went into Junk.”

Lucifer began to draw in as much power as he could. If he could keep Raphael talking and sucker-punch him, there might still be time to escape.

“Wait,” Raphael held up a hand. “What are you doing? I’m not here to fight.”

“Not here to…but your email said ‘Reckoning’.”

“Yes. The process of summing up or estimating something.”

“Oh. Not ‘avenging or punishing past mistakes’ then?”

“This may have escaped your notice but we’re all about forgiveness for past mistakes.”

“Sure. I’ve been shown a lot of forgiveness.”

“That’s actually part of why I’m here.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Look just tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s Dad. He wants you home for Christmas dinner.”

“Oh. Well. That’s much worse than I thought.”

“I was hoping you’d help me with some of the planning?”

“…hence “reckoning”. You really need to update your understanding of language. Christ.”

“He won’t be there.”

“Small mercies. Probably spends the day washing the feet of the poor or something.

“Again, you make that sound like a bad thing. So, you’ll help?”

“No chance. Are you kidding? I’ve spent the last few decades hiding out on Earth to avoid two things: being stuck in Hell and dealing with you lot. This sounds like both things rolled into one. Why would I help you?”

“You’re my older brother. We’re family.”

“Didn’t do me much good after I got kicked out, did it?”

“I know you and Dad had a…rough patch, but it was his idea you come along. Will you at least show your face?”

“I literally thought you were coming to drag me back down below. With violence. Swords and smiting.”

“Ah. Well, you really should be down there, you know.”

“It’s fine.” Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. “Most of the suffering is self-sustaining. And I left some really smart demons in charge, real up-and-comers, you know?”

“Even so. Dad would want you down there. Michael had…things to say about it when we realised you’d gone AWOL.”

“I’ll just bet he did.”

“I’m supposed to make sure you go back after the dinner…but if you were to come along without a fuss…”

“Why, Raphael, are you trying to make a deal with the Devil?”

“Is it working?”

For a moment, Lucifer pictured Loki, struggling alone in a battle with alcohol and a barstool, blaming everyone for his problems and stuck eternally in a vicious cycle.

“I’m almost proud of you. Alright. One dinner. Then you cover for me with the others. As far as you’re concerned, I’m in Hell where I’m supposed to be.”

“Deal.”

“This is going to be a disaster, you realise?”

“Oh, I think it’ll be fine.”

It was a disaster.

Michael spent the whole meal glaring at Lucifer over the bowl of roast potatoes while Gabriel talked and talked and talked. Lucifer was glad to get out for a smoke break.

As he looked out on the Kingdom of Heaven, he heard Raphael approach.

“Told you,” he said.

“It’s a little…intense,” Raphael admitted. “Sorry about Michael.”

“Ah he was always like that. Thinks that push-ups and fanaticism are the way to be daddy’s favourite. Honestly, who wears armour at the dinner table?”

“Less of a concern to me than Uriel being on his phone the whole time. It’s just rude. The food was nice, at least.”

“Vegan turkey,” grumbled Lucifer. “What’s the point?”

“Well, Gabriel insisted…”

“Of course, he did.”

“It was all Dad’s idea. He wanted to do it like the humans do this time.”

“And of course, He doesn’t lift a finger to help with cooking or plating or cleaning up. You wouldn’t think “no direct involvement” would stretch to include dishes. Anyway, let’s see: cold hard glares, the favourite talking about how great he is the whole way through, one poor sod left doing all the organising, and the black sheep of the family feeling awkward as hell and only present due to obligation. I’d say you nailed it. That is exactly how the humans do it.”

“Really?”

“Yep. This is like the language thing again. You guys spend too much time up here looking down and not enough time down there in person.”

“So, why do they keep going? If it’s as awful as this, what’s the point of the event at all?”

“Oh, they’d give you all sorts of half-thought-out reasons, I’m sure. Really though, it’s loneliness. When they gather together like that, even if they’re hating every moment, they’re still together. It’s a reminder to themselves that they have connections. They’re not alone.”

“Ha.”

“What?”

“Something just occurred to me, that’s all. Mysterious ways.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry. Hey, I know you haven’t enjoyed this, but maybe next time I send an email, answer it?”

Lucifer smiled a little despite himself. “Sure. I will.”

And he meant it.