It’s a dirty job…..
The wave of heat hit him like a toffee tsunami. He blinked and sweat began to run into his eyes.
The glare of the hot tropical sun on the white sand beach made him blink for a second or two, then his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Waves of crystal blue gently lapped against the shore, and in the palm trees multi-coloured birds twittered and sang. A gentle breeze stirred the palms…..all seemed at peace.
Now where was he? Apparently in the Tropics. An island?
Michael looked up and down the empty shore, looking for any sign that Loki was “in the house”. There seemed to be no sign of life at all…..had the charm gone wrong?
Then a peal of raucous laughter and girlish screeches echoed down the beach from the treeline…… ah ha!
Michael looked at himself for a moment, sweating heavily in the tropical sun. Perhaps a change of costume was advisable…..after all Harris Tweed and brogues didn’t really fit with a Caribbean beach. He closed his eyes, and a serene look passed across his face.
Fingers clicked, and in an instant his heavy woollen clothes were transformed into cool tropical white linens. A pair of open toed sandals appeared next to his now bare feet. Ray Bans helped to cut down on the suns glare. The ensemble was topped off by a wide brimmed white fedora and a well thumbed copy of a Lonely Planet guidebook.
“That’s better” he chuckled, and smiling walked barefoot into the shade of the trees.
……………………………….
The noise of celebration and hilarity drew Michael through the cool shade of the trees and to a large pool area next to what appeared to be a Colonial era mansion, pristine white and formal in its neo-paladian majesty. Well manicured gardens surrounded the house, with smooth green lawns like baize. Peacocks wandered like Bowery dandies through the hedges and planters, pecking at insects on the ground. The place stank of old money and excess.
“Good Lord” Michael gasped. It looked like Loki had gone native. Michael followed the sounds of laugher and music.
The poolside was a hive of activity, with what appeared to be a coach load of scantily clad nubile young women running, splashing, stretching, preening and laughing, all accompanied by outbreaks of more hysterical screeching. Most were clad in what appeared to be three butterfly wings….three small butterflies at that. Some abandoned even that and were naked as the day they were born…..if a little better developed. Michael winced. Visiting Loki was always an assault on his sensitivities.
Built into the middle of the pool was a dry bar, manned by what Michael thought was simultaneously the tallest and most sickly looking black man he had ever seen. His skin had a distinctly unhealthy, cadaverous sheen, and blank grey eyes stared unseeing at the scenes of celebration all around him. His movements were stiff and robotic. A zombie barman…..things had got bad.
Heralded by yet another outburst of screeching and splashing Loki drifted into view from around the far side of the bar, spread like some beached whale on a floating lounger.
Muscular and toned his suntanned body was a picture of solid good health, despite the fact he was smoking what appeared to be a paper wrapped drainpipe and was wearing a shirt that hurt the eyes even through sunglasses. In one hand he held an insanely large glass containing bright yellow liquid, sparklers, three paper umbrellas, a crazy straw and half a pineapple.
From behind the matt black wraparound sunglasses a pair of well manicured thin black eyebrows shot skyward as he bolted upright in surprise. The lounger floundered for a second, causing Loki to splash some drink into the pool, then he recovered and re-adjusted to the shift in weight. Paddling like a drunken duck whilst juggling his drink and joint, Loki managed to direct the lounger to the pool kerb.
“Michael! Gods Bollocks! What are you doing here? This is a surprise. Drink? Smoke? Good stuff….grow it myself in the conservatory!” Loki waved the still fuming spliff at Michael optimistically. “What do you think of the new place? Not bad eh? Performance bonus mate….the whole island!” Loki started to do a mad little dance on the lawn. “Who’s the daddy eh? Who?”
Michael sighed in a weary way…..
“We need to have a chat old chum”.
Loki looked downcast for a moment, then picked up.
“Ok mate. Tell you what…. You stay here and Samedi will mix you one of these babys. I’ll get the ladies to go play inside and we can have a nice quiet drink here in the sun and sort things out. Sound like a plan?”
“Not here….. London.”
“Ah well….there goes the neighbourhood” muttered Loki.
Michael clicked his fingers, and the two disappeared in twin puffs of powder blue incense laced smoke.
…………………………………………………..
“I thought you meant your flat you sodding idiot!”
The bitter icy wind cut through Loki like cold steel. It whipped around his shoulder length black hair like a harpy, talons tearing at his face. He grasped at the rail around the ledge, snapping his fingers angrily. His hair braided itself into corn plaits.
Shivering and muttering he clicked his fingers, transforming the outrageously loud Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts into a close fitting set of black shirt and leather trousers, a long black leather duster, tall black riding boots and gloves. A long red silk scarf wound itself around his neck, and Loki nuzzled his chin into its soft warm coils.
“You could have sodding warned me or gave me time to change. Most inconsiderate…..You are supposed to be one of the good guys! Remember?”
Michael looked suitably mortified, his attire now reset to heavy, fusty Harris tweeds and brown brogues.
“It’s bloody freezing up here. You know I hate the cold. What the hell did you bring me here for?” …Loki’s eyes flashed red with anger.
He paused, seeing his friend reduced to an admonished schoolboy, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Too far….too far. Calm down. He breathed in. Relax…..Breathe out…….Relax…….he smiled softly, remembering Michael patiently teaching him the technique.
He reached up and, taking off the sunglasses, pocketed them discreetly inside the long coat.
“Look mate, what’s up? You look proper done in”.
Michael turned and looked into Loki’s dark eyes, his own clear blue ones filling with tears that ran like rivers over his care worn face. The reply was short, succinct, and loaded with pain and misery.
“I’m having doubts”.
“Oh knackers!”
……………………………………………………………
“Want one? They help you know…”
Michael looked dejectedly at the slender silver cigarette case, proffered to him with Loki’s trademark lopsided smirk.
“No thank you…you know I don’t smoke. Treat your body as a temple is His way.”
“What? You mean fill it with money lenders and whores like the one in Jerusalem?” Loki sniggered. He saw how the comment stung Michael. “Sorry mate….cheap shot”. He shrugged an apology.
“Tsssk….ah well……your loss bro. Second nature for me…..cant help it…..used to smoke see. Makes me feel …. more at home”. Loki rambled on whilst selecting a cigarette from the case, snapping it shut, and pocketing it all in one smooth motion.
He clicked his fingers repeatedly, looking ever more frustrated. After a minute or so of this he shrugged and held his hands up in dismay.
“See! That’s why I hate being up here. Cant get a damn light for love nor money….got a light?” he smirked.
“Why don’t you carry one of those Zippo things?” asked Michael as he rummaged in his coat pocket. Pulling out a pocket knife he handed it to Loki.
“Embarrassing….sort of lets the side down. Sorry.” He took the preferred pocket knife.
Loki looked at the knife for a moment, selected the largest of the several blades and odd devices on the tool, and opened it out. The blade instantly caught afire, orange and yellow flame playing like a liquid sun along the cutting edge. Gingerly touching it to the end of his cigarette Loki drew in a deep breath, then blew out a long stream of smoke that whipped away in the wind.
“Tidy piece of kit that! Any chance of a lend?”
“Absolutely not…..look what happened last time.”
Loki looked dejected and reluctantly tossed the His Army knife back to Michael. “Ah yes….The Garden”….
“AH YES… THE GARDEN!”
The whole Post Office Tower seemed to shudder, and the echoes of Michaels shout seemed to reverberate through the very essence of reality itself. For a second time itself seemed to halt, and even the wind gave way.
“Whooooaaaaah there boy! Calm the hell down! Less noise mate…..they will see us”.
“Will they? Will they? Good! Ten damned millennia and they still don’t seem to see anything except themselves! The Garden? Garden? What garden? Look what they have done to it!”
Michael grabbed Loki’s collar, and dragged him to the edge of the ledge.
Loki felt the whole world swim in front of him as through screwed up eyes he looked down 400 feet to the streets below. His stomach contents began to rise as the extreme vertigo hit him like a steamtrain.
“JUST LOOK AT THEM!”
Michael froze as he felt the hellish cold chill of steel against skin. Looking down he saw a slender stiletto held by a shaking black gloved hand against his stomach. Unpleasant blue and indigo icy electricity played along its matt black sharpness.
“Final warning. Let me go now or two things will hit that pavement….my puke and your entrails. I’m the bad guy. Remember? Let me go NOW”
Michael gently let go of Loki’s collar.
Loki staggered back from the edge, nervously re-sheathing the boot knife. His eyes still flared with a deep red glow as he grasped at the wall rail.
“Don’t do that again you idiot! You know I hate heights!” Loki looked visibly pale under his normal perma tan. “I need to go inside. Now.”
“I’m sorry brother…..so, so sorry”. Michael looked crestfallen. This wasn’t working out quite how he had anticipated things.
He had forgotten that getting cast down from Heaven had given Loki extreme vertigo.
……………………………………………
Inside the ever rotating Post Office Tower View O London Restaurant the mid morning business crowd were too busy making money, and screwing each other over in the process, to notice the two apparently odd individuals sitting at table 3. Apparently a back room scientist come librarian was having a conversation with a rock musician come assassin. This was London after all though.
The smell of bacon still hung in the air from breakfast, and staccato chatter and power conversation hummed across the room. Pinstripe chattered at chalkstripe. Aquascutum bargained with Muji. Filofax and Palmpilot ruffled and glowed with self importance.
Michael stared down at the coffee before him, the white cream swirl like some ever decreasing whirlpool sucking him down to the black depths. The tears and anger had subsided now, replaced by a dejected emptiness.
The long dark teatime of the soul…..if he’d had one that is. His mental alarm bell rang….not a topic to bring up in Loki’s presence. Last time they had got into that discussion it had ended with The St Bartholemew’s Day Massacres. Loki was known for his temper. That, and his utter disrespect for humanity. Sour Grapes thought Michael.
Still, he thought on, surely even The Fallen should deserve His Mercy? Humans had that right….so why not His servants? “Oh No…..not again. Im loosing my vision.” He thought on and on, like the cream spiralling ever inward.
Ignorant of this philosophical dilemma Loki stared out of the window at the leaden grey skies and drizzle, absent mindedly stubbing out a cigarette on the saucer whilst reaching inside his coat. As he blew out the last of the smoke he effortlessly flipped another cigarette into his mouth.
Pleased with the result of his affected coolness he snapped his fingers. A small blue flame jumped from his thumb. With a satisfied sigh he drew in a long breath of smoke.
“Ahhhhhh…..that’s better. Out of the wind and rain and cold. Really Mike, why do you live here? I mean look at it. Filthy, overcrowded, miserable weather…cold. I wouldn’t keep the boss’ Hounds in a sty like this.”
“It’s alive. You can feel the energy even up here. I like being close to them”.
“Personally they make my skin crawl. As you can see, I’ve only just got past having to wear gloves when I shake hands with them, If I had my way…..”
A polite cough interrupted his flow.
Loki looked round to see a pair of cheap nylon trousers and a fly zip at his eye level. He visibly shuddered. Looking up he saw a pair of watery eyes and a face that needed the urgent attention of an A&E team equipped with two tons of acne cream stat. A weak simper and a shock of bright ginger hair topped off the ensemble.
That so polite yet so annoying cough again.
“May I remind sir this is a non smoking restaurant?” simpered the waiter.
“May I remind you, as Satan’s appointed and authorised representative on Earth, that you are a monkey who had better fuck off before I ROAST YOUR ENTRAILS OVER YOUR MOTHERS BURNING CORPSE?” Loki’s eyes flared an angry red again and he made to rise.
Clamping a firm hand on his shoulder Michael pushed him back into his seat.
“Yes you may young man. Now go in the love and grace of The Lord”. He passed his hand across the waiter’s eyes, which turned glassy. Robotically he turned away and fussed over an empty table.
“Why do you do that? The Star Wars thing? Why do you bother? They never appreciate it…..fucking monkeys.” Loki looked at his empty cup, confused for a moment, then picking it up flung it at the waiter. It bounced off his head and the young man turned robotically. “Now get me some more coffee you stupid fucking ape”.
“Loki Please!”
“Ok ok ok…..Im sorry. Cant help it…sort of built in see. Bad guy? I Is Whats I Is!“ Loki joked. “Its their damn fault I’m in this boat anyway. So sod ‘em. I just don’t understand you at all Mike. Why the hell do you care?”
“That’s just the issue Loki….I’m having doubts”. Michael’s eyes began to look watery again.
“Hey hey, not here big boy. Can’t have the plebs see you being weak. Here…..have a good blow.” He handed Michael a blood red silk hanky.
Michael sank his face into the folds and sniffled. Folding the hanky again he looked unsure, and then started to hand it back. Loki recoiled.
“No you keep it mate….plenty more where that came from” he blurted, waving his hands. “So…..how’s business……what’s up then? Hard century at the grindstone? Big man not answering his phone any more?”
“Not at all. He speaks to me daily. I am always in His Light and Word”. Michael tried hard to look serene, or at least a little less depressed.
Loki sighed and tried hard not to sound weary. “Y see….there’s some of the issue already. Mike its 2009…..you need to stop using all that flowery impenetrable language. No wonder the dimwit monkeys don’t understand The Message. All those thees and thous, nays and shalts. You need to re-envision your mission statement and get some blue sky thinkers up there working outside the envelope.”
“Pardon?” Michael looked like a whale presented with a life time supply of canned krill and a left handed can opener.
“You need to urgently revisit your product range, realign it to current consumer needs and desires, then use a bit of viral marketing to get the message out.”
Loki looked bewildered by Michael’s very apparent lack of understanding.
“Errrrrm……” the glassy look in his eyes said it all. The krill was still in the can.
Shaking his head Loki resignedly stubbed out his last cigarette. “Look Mike, lets go for a walk in the park and I’ll explain. I need some more smokes anyway”.
…………………………………………………………
It was fair to say that, if smoking had been an Olympic event, Loki would have set all world records. He measured his daily cigarette consumption not in packs smoked, but in how many lighters he used.
Sure he could do the finger thing….but why bother when there were non bio-degradable highly wasteful plastic throwaway lighters to chuck around? Saved on gloves too. Loki liked efficiency. It meant he had more time to laze around in his pool drinking and smoking himself silly. Now he could touch them these chicks were pretty interesting too.
He missed his pool. Wearily he sighed and lit another cigarette. This was turning into a three lighter problem.
Loki was unique in being able to turn the simple smoking of a cigarette into a cross between a ballet and a porn film. Cigarettes and case danced between pockets, hands and mouth. The apparent pleasure he took from it was…well….obscene. Every smoke laden breath exhaled seemed orgasmic.
Michael shuddered. “That’s a unhealthy habit you know” he said, looking despairingly at Loki as he inhaled with glee.
A soft whup of displaced air and smell of sulphur accompanied Loki’s transformation into his true form. For a moment the slim, black leather clad rockstar was replaced by a tall roiling pillar of black smoke, inside which glowed two red barbecue coal eyes. The effect was astounding, if a little spoilt by the fact that the pillar appeared to be smoking a half consumed cigarette butt. A second whump and reality snapped back.
“Oh really?” Smirked Loki with an amused look, aping a “Tah Dah” pose.
Michael softly shook his head and looked at the autumnal trees, stretching upwards like bony claws grasping at the steel grey sky. Around them the world busied itself with existence. Where to begin…..where to begin.
“Anyway. I know we weren’t due to have a formal meeting for another 991 years, but, well, I thought you could help. Its just I work every hour He sends trying to keep things on track, saving souls, guiding the lost…..but I just never seem to get anywhere. I don’t know….after the last century we thought that things would get better.” The dejected look again, like a lost boy on the bus. “They haven’t though….they just keep getting worse.”
“Gotta say mate, we downstairs are just as surprised as you.” Loki looked genuinely bewildered. “100 years of almost constant war and atrocity, and things still carry on as is. We thought they’d have had enough. Chuffed as hell mind……busier than ever we are. Got that busy we had to get rid of the bronze gates and fit a set of turnstiles in there.” Loki absent mindedly mimed a twirling gate. “And of course…looks great on my personnel record. Employee of the Millennia ten times running!”
Michael looked peeved. “That doesn’t exactly help me does it? All I get is The Metrotron banging my door down at 3am shouting about the need to save more souls to reinforce the The Army of The Righteous and how faith is falling. You know how loud he shouts. Wakes my entire neighbourhood up. ”
“Oh dear oh dear…I can see that being a pain. Still appearing in clouds of light and trumpets blaring? Long beard, flowing robes, eight wings and eyes burning with righteousness I suppose?”
“Yes….as is proper and right” mumbled Michael with a lack of commitment. He had left out the bit about the council fines and warning letters about the noise and fumes. Spending all night mind wiping the poor frightened neighbours at 67 was becoming wearing too.
“Fucking dinosaur” Loki spat sourly.
“Do you mind? That’s His Mouthpiece you are speaking of”….
“Blah blah blah….what a gobshite!” smirked Loki, shrugging and holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey…I am what I am!”
“So what am I going to do? How do I save people who don’t want to go to Heaven?”
“Good question mate….good question. Hang on a sec….” Loki flipped another cigarette into his mouth, lit it, drew a long breath, and looked contemplative.
“Well, as I see it the real problem is all this free will the man upstairs gave them We all pointed out that it would end in tears. “Don’t do it” we said….”They will only disobey you!” we said……and what happened?”
“Your boss sabotaged the Eden Project and now we are stuck here…..that’s what happened.” Michael looked bitter. “Lend me the burning sword you say….I’ll bring it back”. I had to come get it, and while I’m away your boss tempts them into breaking His Will. Now look at the mess!”
“Hang on….hang on. Who put the apple tree there in the first place? I’ll tell you who… God The Merry Prankster that’s who!” Loki shrugged and waved his arms in an arc taking in the park before them. “For Abbadon’s sake…they are monkeys. Stick a clock in front of one and in half an hour you have a broken clock and a pile of parts. That’s what they do….take things apart, smash things up, and do what they are told not to. That’s not Original Sin…..that’s a sodding design fault. He should have done a product recall. Shoddy workmanship.”
Loki was in full flow now…..like a horse on a home straight. “Does He? Does he hell! No! First he shoots the messengers….throws us all out of Heaven for being proved right, like a petulant child. Then he sets the monkeys loose all over creation to wreck things and disobey him on a grand scale. Really…you do have to wonder what He’s thinking sometimes….I ask you.”
“Hmmmmm….yes….I do.” Michael looked worried……very, very worried. “I know He’s ineffable and moves in mysterious ways, but even I’m getting confused of late. I mean…..human organ trafficking. They’ve reduced themselves to spare parts.” A look of despair and horror clouded his face. “Spare parts for sale”.
Loki appeared to share his disgust. “Hey that’s NOT us OK? NOT one of ours. See what they get up to all by themselves?” It was at this point the lowering sky chose to let loose with a rumble of thunder. The clouds, ugly and dark, signalled a storm coming.
Loki prayed it was just that, and not a sign of divine surveillance. He stifled a choked cough, failed and spat his half smoked cigarette out.
“Whoaaaa there tiger! Talk like that is dangerous!” Loki glanced skywards nervously and eyed a passing pigeon suspiciously for signs of divine intervention. Dispelling his paranoia as just that, he lit another cigarette to comfort his nerves.
“Keep it down…you never know who is listening!” He shushed, urgently mugging hand signals pointing at sky and earth simultaneously. “Like I said, it’s a matter of marketing”.
“What do you mean?”
“Well…lets face it. Your product just isn’t being bought any more is it? Nobody is interested in spending all eternity singing His praises and adoring Him. I mean…what is He? So insecure He needs praise from this shower of monkeys?” Loki laughed softly. “Really….you have to engage your audience…sell them what they want. And what they don’t want is all eternity telling someone bigger than them how wonderful and great and powerful they are.”
“Hmmm…..yes. I see that. Good point…but he is The Creator….The Father”.
“Look there…see that family?” Loki said, pointing across the green at a father playing football with three kids while his wife sat on a bench nearby, apparently immersed in a book. “See….that’s what a father is supposed to do with his children….keep them safe, amused and happy”.
Loki smiled in a unpleasant way, reached into his pocket, and drew out a thin black metallic phone that glittered with a cutting edge hi-tech aura. Poking at it with a pinky nail he grinned anew.
Michael seemed entranced by the picture of familial happiness. “Yes….yes…I see now. And the wife sits dutifully by watching her flock!” He smiled at the biscuit tin picture of a happy family day out.
“Actually mate she’s quietly checking his mobile for text messages from his mistress. Sorry….he’s one of mine.” Loki looked embarrassed in a bemused way, and showed Michael the glowing screen. “Look…..got him way back when he stole some cash from his mothers purse to buy a computer game.” Satisfaction dripped from every word.
Indecipherable glyphs appeared to crawl across the screen in a rolling stream. “Account due for collection in two weeks. She stabs him in a fit of rage. Goes to prison for life. Kids go into care. Eldest son dies of a drug overdose age 18. Sister ends up a cheap street tom, three bad abortions, last one kills her.” Loki had the dignity to look a little embarrassed
“God, is there no hope? So from this picture of perfection you reap them all. There really is no winning is there?”
“Hang on….its not all bad. That youngest lad there becomes a monk!” Loki tried hard to sound chirpy and upbeat.
“Really? Really? A real monk?” Hallelujah!” Michael visibly glowed.
“Ahhh…..hang on a sec……yes. He definitely becomes a monk. Says here.” Loki hastily made to put the phone away inside his coat.
“Let me see…” Michael said breathlessly like a child at Christmas.
Reluctantly Loki showed Michael the screen. His face fell again.
“A Buddhist monk. He becomes a Buddhist monk.”
“’Fraid so old bean. See? I told you. The Message is stale. Time for a change.”
Michael shook his head again. “I give up”.
As Loki lit another cigarette thunder rolled across the sky again.
He winced.
……………………………………….
“……so you see, after the Renaissance we downstairs decided it was time to rethink things and remarket ourselves. After all, with science emerging and the Age of Reason blossoming nicely we worked out all that brimstone and sulphur stuff was old hat. Time for a change.”
“So we ripped out the old place and refitted. Condo’s and marinas round the lake of fire, skateparks and slaughterdomes instead of pits of damnation. Get rid of the big fiery stairway and bronze gates, throw in an escalator and turnstiles…..make it more of a themepark experience.” Loki had taken on the sound of a silkily slick management consultant selling a downsizing plan as re-invigoration.
“Instead of all that resource intensive red hot toasting forks up the backside for all malarkey we brought in two tier damnation. Most of the “chaff”, the no name sinners, get separated out from the “wheat”….the real star names, the ones who were always expected. The big lads then get all eternity raping, pillaging and plundering the “chaff”. We keep a skeleton staff of The Fallen on hand to make sure things stay within bounds. Really most of them fail to see any difference from being up here…” He looked up at the sickly sky…”apart from the fact we have better weather”. He grinned smugly.
“Simple, see, and self regulating. Minimum work, maximum damnation. The smaller sinners spend all eternity as victims, but we spice things up a bit now….we give them damnation breaks. They get two weeks off being slaughtered every year for a holiday break. Hanging ten on the lake of fire, catching some gigs by The Real Damned. Everyone’s a winner!”
“The Fallen now are more like your infernal Civil Service, allowing us much more time to come up with new recruiting campaigns. Which is where yours truly here comes in….”
Loki, caught up in his sales pitch mode, counted off fingers as he spoke. “Foreign call centres where the person on the other end doesn’t speak good English and has no idea how to fix your problems? Traffic lights that fail in the rain? Internet Service Providers? Utility companies? Toys supplied without batteries and Chinese instruction manuals? Disposable razors that slice your face up when you use them? Ballpoint pens that run out especially just when you need one? Windows Operating Systems? Useless security checks at airports? Lost luggage? Public telephone boxes that are always full and wont take your coins? Signalling/track fault delays and cancelled trains?” Loki chuckled….
”The list is endless…….what have you got? Good deeds ……. Gimmie a break! Good luck I say! Keep up with the competition, or fall behind. And let’s face it …. what new innovations have you lot brought in lately? None!” Loki seemed empowered, positively enthused for now they had come to his pet topic…..Damnation Management.
“Take my latest one. It’s a simple adaptation of the call centre idea. I just employ a team of people in China to randomly call landline phone numbers in the UK during their daytime and say Hello repeatedly. Of course, here in the UK its 3am and you have some guy on the phone saying “Harooow” repeatedly…..drives ‘em nuts. You should see the returns I’m getting in! Amazing results.” Loki looked around conspiratorially. “And the best part? Double whammy as well…the ones who keep doing the job know its wrong but carry on for the money! Double bubble! Damned at both ends! Classic mate. Technology….you just have to love it.”
Loki lectured on now in full steam mode: “Then there’s the stuff your lot do….like the church banning contraception. Wow! Who thought that one over eh? Loads of unwanted children, most of whom then have nasty unpleasant lives…” Loki grinned now. “….and end up with us down there! Not to mention occasional schisms, heretics, persecution, witch hunts….etc, etc. Man….your lot do most of our work for us!”
He came to an abrupt stop, realising what he had said. “Oops…..too far again. Sorry. You did ask.”
The crestfallen look on Michaels face said more than any words. He looked utterly defeated.
“There’s just no hope is there? How can we fight against that?”
Loki drew in a long breath and patted him on the back in a brotherly way. This was a biggie…..
“Faith Mike….pure and simple. Faith. Have it, or be me. If you believe, try to get them to change. If you don’t…….well……I needn’t give you my card”. He winked in a suggestive way. “We always keep a warm place by our hearthside for the wanderer.” Somehow Loki could make eternal damnation sound like a soup advert.
A brief ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and played over the duckpond, flitting across the surface, coming to rest over Michael. A white dove, so pure and white it seemed to glow in the stormlight, fluttered down to rest on his shoulder.
Loki cringed and rapidly slid to the more shadowed end of the park bench. In his pocket his telephone began to chirp, increasing in urgency. He sighed….it always ended like this when they met.
“Look mate, that’s The Boss….” A sour look crossed his face. He pointed at the dove on Michaels shoulder. “And by the look of it your boss is calling too. You know they don’t like us meeting like this. Sorry …. I have to take this call.”
The two stood, faced each other, and for a moment a pillar of black smoke seemed to shake hands with a cloud of bright light.
“PAX”.
As Michael walked away into the hum of the city, Loki sat back down and answered the phone.
“Heeeeeeeyyyyyy Big Man! How’s it going downstairs? Keeping the home fires burning? Cool!”
A sibilant hissing was the reply, suggestive of dark places in deeps unfathomed.
“Hey can the paranoia Chief. I wasn’t colluding with the enemy! Who has been whispering lies in your ear again? Belial? That old fart! C’mon Chief….he’s the Prince of Lies….what do you expect? This is Loki….I’m your main man with the millennial tan!”
More hissing, accompanied by rumbles from the sky. Rain began to patter down. It smouldered, hissed and spat as it hit Loki’s coat.
“Whoa there Chief! Hear me out!” Loki changed tone from cool to to explanatory. “Remember the fun I had writing all those different versions of the Bible? Yeah…that’s it….Project Babel. Well…..imagine that being done on a grand scale. Yeah….Getting it yet? Yeah! Imagine how I feel boss. Charged! I may have just thrown a big old spanner in the machine! If nothing else planting the seed of doubt in an archangel must get some results!”
Deep, rumbling laughter from the phone.
“Well its still early days yet boss…..the seeds have just been planted…lets see if we gets a beanstalk. If it comes off I want that Sabbatical you promised me. You know I always fancied being Pope.” Loki chuckled unhealthily.
Hisses and steam….
“Ok chief…..I’ll keep you updated. Ok …..Ok….will do. Bye now. “
Loki looked smug and dialled a number into the phone. A short number…three figures long.
“Hi! Central Switchboard? Put me through to personnel could you? My name?….Loki, Damnation Division…..catch you later.” He leered to himself unpleasantly, mentally lampooning the company recruiting poster.
Looking up he saw a young boy staring at him intently. Loki flipped him the finger. “Sod off kid. I’m not due to see you for another 13 years. So piss off. Big boy stuff”.
The kid pulled out his tongue, blew a ripper raspberry at Loki and ran away. Loki sighed paternally. “That’s m’boy. “ he smirked.
A long drawn out hiss echoed from the phone. Loki started.
“Hi…… Inhuman Resources? Good. This is Loki topside. Get me a recruiting and training pack up here pronto…..I may just have found us a new recruit.”
Loki felt bad about tricking Michael. Eternity on earth together as immortals had ensured that both had ended up as friends, if ones on opposite sides of the divide. Still….it would be better to have him as a work colleague.
Damnation was a dirty job…..but someone had to do it.
And Loki had always loved that burning sword.
“Tidy! Now, where was I? Ah yes…..coming girls”. Loki grinned, snapped his fingers, and a whiff of sulphur rode the cold autumn wind.
