Samael arrived at Luc’s table, pulled out a chair, and plopped down across from him. He signaled to the bartender to bring another beer. “So, my friend, what’s this — a royal summons?” he said, indicating the missive still sitting unfolded in front of Luc.
“It’s a birthday card from my mother.”
Samael snorted as he reached for the beer that had just been deposited in front of him. “Yeah, I might buy that if you had a birthday…or a mother for that matter. Nothing says “I love you” like a message dripping in blood.”
Luc gave Samael a wry look and slowly folded up the letter. No matter how many times they went through this song and dance, they always tried to make light of it, as though these little summons and nightmarish assignments weren’t hellish for all of them.
“Well, we’re going through a rough patch in our relationship right now. Having some mommy issues and she’s paying me back for my teenage years.”
Samael laughed again then gave Luc a quizzical look. “What’s he after this time? You look like you’d have more fun climbing the tallest building in the city and taking a header just for shits and giggles.”
“That’s just the problem, Sam, it’s pretty vague this time, which has me freaking the fuck out. You know how he is. Normally he just comes out and says what he wants and demands our presence to give the specifics. This time he’s just saying: Your presence is required. There is an important assignment that cannot be delayed. Arrive within six hours of receipt of this request. Be late or absent at your own peril. Of course, he did sign off with the usual, ‘Love Always,’ the sick fuck.
Sam leaned back, propped his feet up on the seat of the chair kitty corner to him, and tilted his chair onto its two back legs. He looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Luc looked back down into his mug of beer as though he could divine the answer to the question at the bottom of the glass. A few minutes ticked by in silence — both men lost to their musings, trying to figure out how bad this could be or what it could mean. Sam suddenly righted his chair, dropping back down onto all four legs with a loud thud; Luc’s head snapped to attention.
“Have you heard any rumblings through the grapevine? Anything that might interest our erstwhile employer? I mean, if it were a standard soul-snatching, he would have just said it. Unless…you haven’t turned down another one of his fucking requests, have you?”
Luc frowned in thought and slowly shook his head. “Nope, I haven’t heard anything new or interesting through my contacts, and I haven’t turned down any of his recent requests…not since he asked me to kidnap that kid to use as leverage. I had to draw the line somewhere.” Luc shuddered at the memory.
He had brought Satan the thirty-nine-year-old lawyer who had sold his soul in exchange for winning a high-profile case defending a serial killer and Luc had had no qualms doing it; the guy was slime. But when he’d been asked to kidnap the man’s son; that had been the outside of enough. That little instance of rebellion had earned him twenty-four hours of torture.
Luc now had an intimate knowledge of how it felt to have the skin peeled from his back with a dull bone knife. He also knew exactly how long it took to regenerate said skin in order to have it peeled off again. In total the process was repeated six times over the twenty-four hour period. In his many centuries of life, Luc had experienced different kinds of torture and had come to learn that there are several levels of pain: tolerable, agonizing, excruciating, and finally, the stage at which all the pain receptors in the body have ceased to register. That final stage comes directly before one passes out. Luc had reached that particular level of pain all six times. It was a relief when he finally got there because he knew he would be unconscious soon, and he would have at least thirty minutes during which time he could float in blissful darkness.
He shook his head, clearing the horrific memories and bringing himself back to the present. “Heard anything on your end?”
Sam shook his head and twisted in his seat, waving Baal over from the bar where he’d joined the others. “Let’s see if B knows anything. He was at Halja last. Maybe he heard something while he was there.”
Baal strolled over, grabbed a chair, flipped it around, and sat down crossing his arms over the chair-back in front of him. “What’s up?”
“We wanted to see if you’d heard anything new and interesting last time you were visiting The Supreme Douchebag? Oh, and you owe me fifty bucks from the pool game. One of these days you’ll stop putting money on it. I just keep handing you your ass on a silver platter.”
“Sam, first of all, you know I don’t have fifty bucks on me. Second, when have I ever actually paid up on a bet?” Luc and Sam looked at each other and started laughing. Baal smiled, reached across the table, grabbed Luc’s beer, and took a big gulp. “You know I’m always broke as shit. By the way, thanks for the beer.”
Luc rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Remind me why we’re still friends with him?” he asked sarcastically.
“Because you can’t live without all my awesomeness.” Baal smiled. “As for your other issue, what type of new and interesting
