Fire and Brimstone and Cookies [The Misadventures of Theodosius - Book II]

Chapter IV

THE DEVIL STARED AT THEODOSIUS FOR A MOMENT. Then, he sighed.

"Are you certain you don't want a pony?" he asked.

Theo shook his head. "Nope. I mean, no, I don't want a pony—yes, yes I'm certain."

The Devil frowned. "Ugh. That usually gets them. Very well. Let me make some calls."

Bihatra looked at Theo, raising a perfect brow. Her expression said, You are a great inconvenience.

Theo rather agreed; he hoped that his being inconvenient would hurry him on his way out of Hell, rather than hinder him. He looked back at her with an expression that said, Wouldn't it be great to be rid of me?

As Bihatra and Theo exchanged these unfriendly looks, the Devil reached into a desk drawer and produced a sparkly rotary telephone. The telephone had no cord, but Theo, having never seen such an object before, did not mind.

As Theo watched, the Devil picked up the receiver, put it to his perfectly normal-looking and unpointed ear, reached out with a slim, well-manicured finger, and began to dial it. The rattle of the dial was the only sound in the office for a moment. Then, a sonorous and ethereal voice came from the receiver. It was loud enough that Theo could clearly hear it.

"Michelangelo's Pizza, how may I help you?"

The Devil frowned. "What?"

"... Michelangelo's Pizza? Gerald, is this you? There is no way I'm covering your shift again, man, this is the third time this month—"

"This is a pizzeria? What number have I called?"

"Uh, yeah, dude." The voice rattled off the phone number.

The Devil squinted at the rotary phone, appearing to mentally retrace the numbers he had dialed. "Dagnabbit," he muttered. "Thank you very much, I dialed the wrong—oh, on second though, how far do you deliver, and do you have pineapple?"

"Boss?" interjected Bihatra.

The Devil hung up, sliding an irritated glance at the demoness. He dialed again. The rattle of the dial was—again—the only sound in the office for a moment. Then, another sonorous and ethereal voice came from the receiver.

"Heaven. This is Murphy speaking."

"Murphy!" said the Devil cheerfully. "Murph! My man!"

There was a brief silence from the party on the other line. It was an irritated silence with narrowed eyes, a silence that indicated its owner had been interrupted in the course of doing Very Important Things that did not involve speaking to the Devil by glittery multi-dimension-o-phone. In a crisp, unamused voice, Murphy said, "Stan, you are well aware that angels are genderless, as you once were one yourself. You are not supposed to call any more."

"C'mon, Murphy, it's been several millennia since all that. How have you been?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait—wait!" the Devil cried. "Wait."

The silence narrowed its eyes even further. It now could barely see.

"Okay, I need something. But it's a mutually-beneficial something. Hear me out?"

The silence was now suspicious, but its interest was piqued. A little.

"So, here's the thing," the Devil said. "You have someone up there who belongs down here."

"What?" Murphy sounded annoyed.

"Yes. Her name is Paula Wolfe."

"Oh, no ..."

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Listen, Stan—"

"No, you listen, Murphy," said the Devil, and now his playful, wheedling tone had dissolved. When he spoke again, he bit the words out with precision. As Theo watched with trepidation, a curl of smoke snaked from the corner of the Devil's mouth. "She's mine. She and I had a deal—and she will give the Devil his due."

The silence on the other end of the line was reluctant now, and maybe a little scared.

The Devil smiled. It was a painfully handsome smile. "You know I'm right, Murphy. Consult your rule books. Consult your angelic peers. Consult the Big Guy Himself. She's mine. Now, you owe it to me: why did you let her in?"

Murphy sighed. "How am I supposed to know? I'm not a Gatekeeper, and I'm certainly not the Judge. But I heard about this. It's just a bit of a mix-up, Stan. Paula is typical Heaven material: kind, compassionate, spent her life rescuing abandoned animals; no one had a bad word to say about her. I can understand why the Judge let her in."

"Overlooking the fact that she made a deal with the Devil."

"I'm sure it wasn't overlooked so much as, um...outweighed?" 

"Well," said the Devil, "that's all very fine, very fine indeed, but if Ol' Kick-'Em-Outta-Eden were to find out, what do you think He would say?"

"As if you'd tell Him. You wouldn't get a word in—He'd have plenty to say to you about all this havoc you've been wreaking from down there!"

"Try me. I have time to sit through an eon of lecturing, and when He's done, I'll put a little bug in His ear about this infraction of the rules."

Murphy made an irritated sound of defeat. "Fine, fine—what do you want?"

"It's simple. You needn't worry about Paula. Keep her up there—for now. Keep her happy—for now. I'll care for securing her soul; I have a professional in my employ—" and here the Devil glanced at Theo— "who will clear matters up pretty quickly. However, he requires payment, and it's the payment I'll be wanting from you."

Theo was beginning to get a very bad feeling about all this, but he was far too deep into the arrangement to back out now; besides, the Devil seemed to have a way to get Tansy back, and Tansy was all Theo wanted. Love of her had driven him into the foolish decision of making a deal with Bihatra. Love of her had driven him into the black arts of necromancy. Love of her could get him through this trial ahead, and maybe things would turn out positively for a change.

"Payment? From us!" Murphy was indignant.

"Yes. You have a soul up there, a certain Mrs. Tansy ..." the Devil glanced down at Theo's visitor's badge, and when a last name was not readily apparent, he looked up at Theo's face, raising his eyebrows.

"Pemberton. Of Barenn," supplied Theo. "She will have died about—" and he paused to do a mental calculation— "twenty-five years ago."

"... Pemberton of Barenn. She died about twenty-five years ago. You'll release that soul into the care of—"

"Alright, hold on, stop there. You're asking me not for one soul, but two souls?"

"First, Paula's soul has been mine from the beginning; you stole her from me. And, as I said, you'll keep her there for now—we'll handle the retrieval. Second, I am not asking you to release Tansy's soul into my keeping, my sanctimonious friend; no, you shall release it into the keeping of one Theodosius of Barenn—once Paula has been reclaimed. Consider it your payment to him for a job well done and a mess neatly tidied up. Understood?"

"I don't like this, Stan."

"You do not have to, Murphy. You'll do it, though, or you will find yourself working in much warmer climes than you're used to."