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Chapter 41

Lucifer drummed the talons of one hand on the red lacquer of his desk, and with his other hand, twiddled the antenna of a little copper box sitting in front of him. A worried demon stood at his side, peering nervously at the speakers that still emitted only the total silence of dead air.

"I am not pleased by this, Bilgemire," Lucifer said.

"Agonostis is blocking his thoughts . . . that's all. It isn't a malfunction of the machinery. Although if there is a problem with the soul-scanner, it's Toejam's fault. She designed the main board."

"Toejam told me you did all the circuitry checks and passed this piece of trash." Lucifer glared at the little box and punched in Jezerael's code.

Immediately, Jezerael's thoughts poured out.

". . . and give the little bastard a bath in a few minutes, and when she does, I'll have her alone. Then I'll tell her she was screwed by one of Hell's angels, and that he was using her to win points with Lucifer, and that because of him, she's bound for Hell . . . <crackle, hiss, whistle> . . . sign the contract in a heartbeat . . . <hiss, whine, pop> . . . pleasure torturing Agonostis."

Lucifer smiled. At least Jezerael's thoughtbug was still functioning. He punched in Agonostis' number again, and again he got dead air—the ominous silence of something gone very, very wrong. Even when Agonostis had been blocking his thoughts, the effort it took had emitted a noisy interference that Lucifer had been able to work through with the descrambler. It was only because of the descrambler that Lucifer knew Agonostis was skimming fifteen percent of the daily take off the top of the leccubi earnings, or that he had already set up a Swiss bank account for himself.

"What time did you lose him?"

"He sort of . . . faded out at around oh-seven-hundred."

Lucifer glanced up at Hell's big clock, which showed thirteen hundred twenty-four, Hell Standard Time. "That was a very long time ago," he said in a voice grown cold and quiet. "Why didn't you call me when he began to fade?"

"I didn't think you would want to be bothered—I remembered what happened to Bootlicker. And I thought it was something that could be fixed."

Lucifer vaguely recalled Bootlicker, consigned to a thousand years as the soul in one of Hell's shovels for disturbing him at an inconvenient hour over a major matter. Lucifer loved destroying people who were actually doing their jobs when they crossed him; it kept everyone else on edge.

And here was Bilgemire, afraid to find himself sharing his doomed colleague's fate, failing to notify Lucifer of important information. The Lord of Hell smiled and leaned against his desk, looking down at the demon.

"I might as well be trying to read the thoughts of the Kuttner bitch for all this is doing," he said in conversational tones. "You've failed me, Bilgemire."

Bilgemire's warty olive green skin flushed black, and he backed up a step. He cringed and whispered, "Per-per-perhaps it isn't the technology, your Awfulness. Perhaps you've—er, we've, ah, lost him to the other side."

"And you didn't call me for hours after my second-in-command deserted?" Lucifer shook his head slowly, and let his smile grow bigger. "Oh, dear. What dereliction of duty that is. I'm afraid I'm going to have to demote you. One thousand years as . . . oh, what would be appropriate?" The Master of Evil rubbed his chin with an index finger and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "As the fuel that heats the lower reaches." Lucifer nodded. "Yes. Fully aware, constantly burning, constantly reforming. And when you've served your time, perhaps I'll permit you to work your way up to demon again . . . though I think your promotions will be slow in coming. A few millennia as an imp ought to teach you something."

The demon knelt. "Please, oh . . . please mighty Master . . . I throw myself on your mercy—"

"You missed." Lucifer flicked a finger at Bilgemire and the demon vanished with a scream.

The problem of Agonostis remained, of course. Lucifer conjured up a long-distance spiriscope and searched through the cosmic ether for his second-in-command's soul. Agonostis had always been easy to locate before—the components of his soul were scarred and twisted with rage and anger and hatred, jealousy and greed, ambition and duplicity. That raw red seething energy should have drawn the viewfinder of the spiriscope like a beacon in darkness—but Lucifer, while he found many exemplary fallen souls in the cross hairs of his lens, found none that were his missing lieutenant.

Agonostis wasn't redeemed. Lucifer would have had a message on the Hellex from God, bragging about his latest acquisition. God always sent Lucifer messages when one of the Fallen slipped out of Hell's clutches.

Lucifer frowned. Perhaps Agonostis had simply discovered the mechanism of the soul-scanner and found some ingenious method to block it. If that were the case, Lucifer wasn't going to be able to give Agonostis to Jezerael. He'd have to throw him into Research and Development instead. Set him to the task of mass-producing his invention. With several billion stealth-souls, Lucifer could stage his long-dreamed-of assault on Heaven, and God wouldn't even know Hell's army was coming until it had already overrun the place.

Lucifer nodded. That was the most likely explanation. He paged Pitchblende, and when his executive secretary arrived, told him, "I'm going to need several new demons to run the soul-scanner. I misplaced the last ones. And locate Agonostis for me. I want to know where he is and what he's doing."

Pitchblende nodded and backed out of the office. Lucifer settled into his chair and rested his hooves on his desk. He imagined the stealth-soul device, and amused himself by thinking of the fun he would have with it when it was in his possession.

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Framed

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Contents

Chapter 41

Lucifer drummed the talons of one hand on the red lacquer of his desk, and with his other hand, twiddled the antenna of a little copper box sitting in front of him. A worried demon stood at his side, peering nervously at the speakers that still emitted only the total silence of dead air.

"I am not pleased by this, Bilgemire," Lucifer said.

"Agonostis is blocking his thoughts . . . that's all. It isn't a malfunction of the machinery. Although if there is a problem with the soul-scanner, it's Toejam's fault. She designed the main board."

"Toejam told me you did all the circuitry checks and passed this piece of trash." Lucifer glared at the little box and punched in Jezerael's code.

Immediately, Jezerael's thoughts poured out.

". . . and give the little bastard a bath in a few minutes, and when she does, I'll have her alone. Then I'll tell her she was screwed by one of Hell's angels, and that he was using her to win points with Lucifer, and that because of him, she's bound for Hell . . . <crackle, hiss, whistle> . . . sign the contract in a heartbeat . . . <hiss, whine, pop> . . . pleasure torturing Agonostis."

Lucifer smiled. At least Jezerael's thoughtbug was still functioning. He punched in Agonostis' number again, and again he got dead air—the ominous silence of something gone very, very wrong. Even when Agonostis had been blocking his thoughts, the effort it took had emitted a noisy interference that Lucifer had been able to work through with the descrambler. It was only because of the descrambler that Lucifer knew Agonostis was skimming fifteen percent of the daily take off the top of the leccubi earnings, or that he had already set up a Swiss bank account for himself.

"What time did you lose him?"

"He sort of . . . faded out at around oh-seven-hundred."

Lucifer glanced up at Hell's big clock, which showed thirteen hundred twenty-four, Hell Standard Time. "That was a very long time ago," he said in a voice grown cold and quiet. "Why didn't you call me when he began to fade?"

"I didn't think you would want to be bothered—I remembered what happened to Bootlicker. And I thought it was something that could be fixed."

Lucifer vaguely recalled Bootlicker, consigned to a thousand years as the soul in one of Hell's shovels for disturbing him at an inconvenient hour over a major matter. Lucifer loved destroying people who were actually doing their jobs when they crossed him; it kept everyone else on edge.

And here was Bilgemire, afraid to find himself sharing his doomed colleague's fate, failing to notify Lucifer of important information. The Lord of Hell smiled and leaned against his desk, looking down at the demon.

"I might as well be trying to read the thoughts of the Kuttner bitch for all this is doing," he said in conversational tones. "You've failed me, Bilgemire."

Bilgemire's warty olive green skin flushed black, and he backed up a step. He cringed and whispered, "Per-per-perhaps it isn't the technology, your Awfulness. Perhaps you've—er, we've, ah, lost him to the other side."

"And you didn't call me for hours after my second-in-command deserted?" Lucifer shook his head slowly, and let his smile grow bigger. "Oh, dear. What dereliction of duty that is. I'm afraid I'm going to have to demote you. One thousand years as . . . oh, what would be appropriate?" The Master of Evil rubbed his chin with an index finger and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "As the fuel that heats the lower reaches." Lucifer nodded. "Yes. Fully aware, constantly burning, constantly reforming. And when you've served your time, perhaps I'll permit you to work your way up to demon again . . . though I think your promotions will be slow in coming. A few millennia as an imp ought to teach you something."

The demon knelt. "Please, oh . . . please mighty Master . . . I throw myself on your mercy—"

"You missed." Lucifer flicked a finger at Bilgemire and the demon vanished with a scream.

The problem of Agonostis remained, of course. Lucifer conjured up a long-distance spiriscope and searched through the cosmic ether for his second-in-command's soul. Agonostis had always been easy to locate before—the components of his soul were scarred and twisted with rage and anger and hatred, jealousy and greed, ambition and duplicity. That raw red seething energy should have drawn the viewfinder of the spiriscope like a beacon in darkness—but Lucifer, while he found many exemplary fallen souls in the cross hairs of his lens, found none that were his missing lieutenant.

Agonostis wasn't redeemed. Lucifer would have had a message on the Hellex from God, bragging about his latest acquisition. God always sent Lucifer messages when one of the Fallen slipped out of Hell's clutches.

Lucifer frowned. Perhaps Agonostis had simply discovered the mechanism of the soul-scanner and found some ingenious method to block it. If that were the case, Lucifer wasn't going to be able to give Agonostis to Jezerael. He'd have to throw him into Research and Development instead. Set him to the task of mass-producing his invention. With several billion stealth-souls, Lucifer could stage his long-dreamed-of assault on Heaven, and God wouldn't even know Hell's army was coming until it had already overrun the place.

Lucifer nodded. That was the most likely explanation. He paged Pitchblende, and when his executive secretary arrived, told him, "I'm going to need several new demons to run the soul-scanner. I misplaced the last ones. And locate Agonostis for me. I want to know where he is and what he's doing."

Pitchblende nodded and backed out of the office. Lucifer settled into his chair and rested his hooves on his desk. He imagined the stealth-soul device, and amused himself by thinking of the fun he would have with it when it was in his possession.

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Contents
Framed