Cerberus ran along the empty streets, dodging packs of party goers and the odd passed out person. The huge hellhound stopped to sniff the air, he was near. The right head turned to go right, the left wanted to go left, and the middle wanted to go straight ahead.
On the corner of a street populated by young party goers a young woman stood on a wooden box, waving her hands and shouting: “You’re all going to hell in a handbasket—” The street prophet fell silent as a cold blade touched her throat.
The closet door opened, the sudden flash of light assaulting Edwin and Lucifer’s eyes. Rowan stepped into the opening, his arms crossed across his chest. “If you allow the damned a holiday once every decade—”
After minutes of growling, biting and snarling, Cerberus raced onwards. Petty squabbling would have to wait. The grey asphalt flew beneath the hellhound as it closed in on the target.
A tall form, wrapped in a black cloak turned to face the hound. Cerberus stopped before him, scaly tail wagging.
“What is it lad… lads?” The Grim Reaper knelt down before the hound. “Did little Timmy fall into a well again?”
The middle and left head growled while the right head slapped its paw into its forehead.
“Come to think of it, Timmy never did fall into a well.” Grim patted the middle head of the hellhound. “What is it lads, tell me.”
Cerberus lifted its paws to the side of its head, forming makeshift horns.
“Lucifer, something’s up with him. Is he in trouble again?”
The three heads nodded up and down in unison. The hound stopped to think for a moment, then drew its legs against itself and laid down on the pavement.
“Lucifer is dead?” The bony jaw dropped.
“Arf!” The three heads bared their teeth.
Grim’s bony hand jammed his jaw back up. “Not dead, I take it. Hell would be in an uproar without its leader… bound?”
“Woof!” The scaly tail thumped up and down, sending up a puff of dust.
“Bound, probably in a confined place like a closet. But why?” Grim fell silent for a moment. He lifted a finger up towards the dark sky. “Did God try to order Lucifer to be kinder to the damned?”
“Woof!”
“Reapers are neutral, we don’t mess with God or Lucifer.” The black hood fell off as Grim shook his head. He lifted his hands up in protest. “It’s their issue, find someone else.”
Cerberus pointed at itself, lifted his paws into horns again, then patted the pavement. The hellhound’s faces looked around confused, one head barked at the other as if asking for direction. The shoulders of the hound lifted up, then down.
“Minion of the devil, up here, lost and confused… Edwin?” His jaw dropped to the ground this time. Grim picked it up, brushed the dust of and jammed it back. “The young sod’s got himself mixed up in all of this? He can’t even make his way through hell, what’s he doing down there?”
Cerberus merely shrugged. Three pairs of ears lifted up and three pairs of eyes lit up. “Woof?”
“I rather like that bloke, shame if something’s happened to him.” Grim lifted his hand to his brow and shook his head. “I’m going to make a dog’s dinner out of this, but I have to do something.”
“Woof?”
“No, not food. It means I’m likely going to make things worse by intervening. Follow me, I know what to do.”
On the corner of a street populated by young party goers a young woman stood on a wooden box, waving her hands and shouting: “You’re all going to hell in a handbasket—” The street prophet fell silent as a cold blade touched her throat.
“God, I’ve got a scythe on your favourite prophet’s throat!” The Grim Reaper gritted the teeth he still had. HQ would be furious again. “Call off the oddball angel and let Lucifer do his job. I’m sure you’ve made your point.”
“I’m a favourite?” The prophet’s face brightened. “Woo hoo!”
Clad in an orange and red outfit, the angel Rowan appeared out of thin air. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists!”
One of the party goers turned his head towards the scene, but saw only the street preacher standing silent, her head oddly bent back.
“Do I get a say in this?” The street preacher looked up at The Reaper’s skeletal face. The hollow eye sockets revealed nothing of his intent.
If Grim had had flesh and muscles to move them he would have frowned. “I recall that you hijacked Hell.”
“Lucifer didn’t follow orders!” Wings unfurled behind Rowan, filling the air with a warm light.
“You can’t order a fallen angel, especially the Devil.” The Grim Reaper waved his free arm in the air. “You coerce and threaten, but you don’t hit him over the head with a holy book and shove him in a closet. That’s just wrong, man… angel.”
Rowan crossed his arms and lifted his wings higher in attempt of intimidation.
Grim stood still; he’d seen angels before while taking souls to heaven. “If Lucifer agrees to give the damned a break every century, will you leave?”
Rowan looked up, then nodded. “Upstairs agrees.” He snorted. “If the old goat bottom agrees, all’s fine.”
“Blimey, God agrees?” The scythe fell from the street preacher’s throat. Grim took a step back. “You deal with Lucifer. I have a football riot to attend to.”
The closet door opened, the sudden flash of light assaulting Edwin and Lucifer’s eyes. Rowan stepped into the opening, his arms crossed across his chest. “If you allow the damned a holiday once every decade—”
“Hundred years.” Lucifer spat the words.
“Alrighty, every hundred years, I’ll leave and not come back unless ordered to.” The angel cocked his head and lifted his brow, waiting for an answer.
“If you ever show your face here again, I will have the demons chop off your wings and use them to clean the soot of the walls,” Lucifer’s dark eyes glittered as he imagined the scene, “and play basketball with that pretty little head of yours.”
“Fine.” Rowan pulled out a small knife and sliced through the ropes binding Edwin. He gave the youngster a dark look. “Shove me against a wall again and you will have no business knocking on heaven’s door.”
“I work for him.” Edwin glanced at the fuming Lucifer. “I think I lost the chance for eternal life in the clouds when I signed.”
“Ever heard of repenting? God forgives.” Rowan placed the knife in Edwin’s hand. “I’m off.”
Edwin cut Lucifer’s ropes and got up to leave, when the Boss’s cold voice made him turn around. “Edwin, what were you doing down here?”
“Oh, nothing, just stopping by.” He swallowed hard; now was not the time to point out the fact that he didn’t get paid enough.
“I doubt that.” The Devil flexed his sore arms, clawed fingers extended towards the roof. “Now, Edwin I have a job for you. Find a way to make that angel pay for what he did.”
All colour fled Edwin’s face and his jaw dropped. He’d do it, it was his job and Lucifer had gotten him out of the Loony Bin. Even Hell was better than that.
