Heaven is a place on Earth…

Well, kind of. Kaarl is a Demon who changed his ways, left Hell behind him and now works on Earth to save the souls Lucifer had sent him to claim. In Los Angeles he has wealth and power and in Heaven he has the chance for a new start. Being a Demon freshman in a university built exclusively for Angels has its challenges but other than that things are looking promising…

With Kaarl lost to the other side, Lucifer has found another way to prey on Humanity. He sends his daughter, Persephone, along with the terrifying Four Horsemen of Apocalypse to tear the Mortal world apart and bring it to the brink of starvation. While the Horsemen are forcing the Mortals to sin to survive, reaping countless souls in the process, Persephone is forcing her way in to Kaarl’s heart with her sights set firmly on revenge.

Faced with Lucifer’s wrath, Persephone’s schemes and the seemingly unstoppable Horsemen, Kaarl is running out of options and the Mortal realm is running out of time. The past he has been so desperate to bury may hold his only chance at the saving the realm he now calls home…

Also by J L Morris

Selfish Beings

Beautiful Revenge

J L Morris

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Jordan Morris 2014

Jordan Morris asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9781474007542

Version date: 2018-10-30

J L MORRIS

He has worked mainly in sales, marketing and customer relations after discovering he was pretty good at talking and ill-suited to manual labour.

An avid reader, film buff and gamer, he has always loved a good story and decided to finally let his long-suffering creative beast out of its cage. His first paranormal novel, Selfish Beings, is a direct result of feeding said beast and giving it a generous amount of ‘prowling around’ money.

In his free time he enjoys arguing on the Internet, avoiding anything that requires going outside for prolonged periods and preparing for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

I would first like to thank Lucy Gilmore, Victoria Oundjian and the wonderful staff at HQ Digital for their hard work and this opportunity.

I would also like to thank Helen Williams for her patience, insight and guidance throughout the editing process.

Last but not least, I would like to thank my friends and family for their support and encouragement. I don’t deserve such great people in my life but you were obviously all put there for crimes in a past existence. You will just have to come to terms with that and try harder this time around.

For my beautiful niece, Peyton Jade.

Stay classy, P.J., and don’t listen to your Mum; Play-Doh does go in the washing machine. There is a massive difference between what you can’t do and what you’re not supposed to do.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One: Higher Learning

Kaarl watched as L.A. began to brighten in the dawn’s light. From his top-floor office in Synergy’s headquarters he had the best view of the city that money could buy. Even after seven years in the Mortals’ realm the sight of the sun rising and setting had not lost its appeal.

Perdition’s Sky of Fire was a poor substitute, he thought.

Kaarl immediately regretted doing so; it was a shame that memories of that place still wormed their way into his thoughts. They had decreased over the years since his defection but it was hard to put Hell completely behind him. Kaarl had lived in Perdition for five centuries, his entire childhood, and those memories made up the majority of his past. Having a constant reminder of the place burnt into his flesh didn’t help matters either.

The eight-pointed star branded on Kaarl’s forearm made sure he never forgot where he came from. Out of sight, out of mind just didn’t work with the Mark of Lucifer, a “gift” Kaarl had received from the Master of Perdition before his first moments on Earth. Kaarl’s shirt sleeve would brush against it or his hand would drift to it and memories of Perdition and his past would soon follow. It was as if the lines scorched into his skin actively sought to ruin the small moments that made his new life so enjoyable. The Mark reminded Kaarl of the souls he had claimed in Lucifer’s name, the hundreds of thousands that he had made Damned. Those Mortals would never be able to find true peace and their fate was little more than a game to Lucifer.

To Lucifer – the Light Bearer and Son of Morning– it was merely a race to accumulate more of the Mortals than God. His “Game of Souls” was played for one purpose: to prove the Mortals flawed beyond redemption and Lucifer wasn’t above pushing them down the wrong path to win it. The Damned wouldn’t know what they’d lost; Perdition had more than enough distractions to keep them busy and content. Kaarl had seen both sides of the coin though and he knew exactly what he had taken from them before the Demon had been offered his chance at redemption.

As he turned his head to survey the city that had become his home he caught glimpses of Michael King reflected in the glass. The vessel he used in the Mortal world had black hair, deep blue eyes and a face and body crafted to excite and influence. He had used it when he’d worked for Perdition and for a time it had been his face in Paradise as well. Kaarl had shunned his Demonic appearance at first in an attempt to fit in. It had not taken him long to realise though that Paradise was not nearly as callous or shallow as Perdition. Appearances didn’t matter up there, only actions. Kaarl and his friends, the twin sisters Verin and Vetis, had done a lot to make amends for their past.

Synergy, the media giant the trio had originally built in Lucifer’s name, had been created to influence and tempt, to lead the Mortals down to Perdition. It had been so effective, so subversive that Kaarl and the twins had caught Paradise’s attention and that of its greatest guardian, Gabriel: God’s Champion and the Bane of Demons. The Council of Virtues, Paradise’s governing body, had seen something else in Kaarl though; the compassion and understanding that he had suffered for in Perdition. They were the very same traits that allowed him to understand the Mortals when the rest of his realm had lost touch and Lucifer had taken full advantage of Kaarl’s gifts.

Kaarl and the twins had been given a chance to turn things around, to stem the tide of Mortals they were sending to swell Lucifer’s ranks. It had been three years since that defection and the battle for the company that had almost claimed the trio’s lives. Synergy had proven itself an invaluable asset to Paradise and its work in the Mortal realm. With its shows, music and movies Synergy was demonstrating the path that led to Paradise without being preachy about it. If Mortals wanted sermons and scripture they knew where to go for them. Kaarl’s job was to reach the ones that shied away from churches, those who saw no relevance to their lives in tales that were hundreds of years old.

Kaarl gave those Mortals what they wanted: gripping stories, realistic settings and high definition. They craved attractive young stars they could identify with, with no hints of religion or blatant lectures on morality. Kaarl and the twins made sure they delivered. With its vast profits from the entertainment industry Synergy was funding humanitarian projects all over the globe; leading by example on screen and in the real world. The souls taken in ignorance and at Lucifer’s behest still haunted Kaarl but on reflection there was a lot to be proud of as well.

The door to Kaarl’s office flew open and Verin and Vetis stormed in, ruining the small measure of peace he had only just reclaimed. The girls were identical with long blonde hair and striking green eyes. Their clothes, a look the girls referred to as “sexy corporate”, complemented their every curve and left very little to the imagination. Their usually alluring faces were ruined a little by angry looks and furrowed brows.

‘So you know,’ said Kaarl, turning around and walking back towards his desk.

‘Yes we know,’ snapped Verin, slamming the door behind her. ‘When were you going to tell us?’

‘Today, now in fact. Just before we left.’

‘Why would you keep this from us?’

Kaarl folded his arms and leant on the back of his chair.

‘Because I didn’t want to put up with three months of moaning.’

‘You’ve known for that long?’ asked Vetis.

‘It’s not that big a deal. We’re at the age when Angels have to go anyway so it’s sort of lucky if you think about it, good timing really.’

‘It’s school,’ said Verin. ‘There’s nothing “good” about it.’

‘It’s college actually.’

‘We’re running a multinational media empire.’ said Vetis, taking a seat. ‘This isn’t some part-time job flipping burgers to make tuition. We have more than enough work to do here.’

‘I couldn’t imagine you two flipping burgers,’ replied Kaarl. ‘If you had to work your way through college I’d have thought clear heels and silver poles would be more your thing.’

Vetis reached for the closest thing on Kaarl’s desk. A bright yellow stress ball bounced harmlessly off his cheek and rolled along the floor.

‘We have to go,’ Kaarl continued, moving his stapler before Vetis could get her hands on it. ‘Sophie said it’s mandatory for everyone our age and with our…unique background it’s even more important.’

‘You’ll pay for this,’ said Verin. ‘I’m going to complain twice as long and twice as loud now, even if I don’t have anything to complain about.’

Kaarl glanced at his watch.

‘You do that anyway,’ he said. ‘The ceremony will be starting soon. You two better hurry or you might get detention or whatever.’

Kaarl shifted realms before the sisters could say a word in reply.

***

Unlike Perdition, the vast stone city that shared a name with its realm, Paradise’s settlements were spread far and wide. Some were built in and around the tops of trees and others nestled in meadows or sat close to the sun-drenched shores. Far from the forests and mountains, beyond the grasslands, lakes and beaches lay the Sea of Serenity. Kalmore floated above its clear and perpetually calm waters and was considered by many to be the greatest city in Paradise. It was also home to Heaven’s only centre for higher education. The Halls of Knowledge had been there since Humanity’s creation and were the training, testing and proving ground for Angels who wished to work directly with the Mortals on Earth.

It was tradition for the city to turn out in droves and cheer on the new arrivals and Kaarl, Verin and Vetis were the centre of attention as they made their way through the cobbled streets to the orientation ceremony with their fellow students. It was the first occasion in the school’s long and illustrious history where ex-Demons were on the roll. The twins sulked and glared at the crowd as they followed behind Kaarl. The girls’ true forms did not differ much from their vessels on Earth, the only noticeable difference was that their hair was black and their skin tones a deep, rich red. Kaarl was almost eight feet tall, as black as a moonless night with wings even darker. His eyes were soulless white orbs and his teeth belonged on a Great White Shark; better suited to savaging corpses than smiling at crowds. Nevertheless he waved at the well-wishers and warmly returned their grins. To his delight no one screamed or pointed at him in horror. Even though Kaarl had found the courage to be seen in his own skin he still feared that one day the sight of him might send a child running away in tears.

All of Paradise had heard of the trio. They knew of their past exploits and the lengths they had gone to in repairing the damage they’d caused. They were celebrities and more importantly, proof that no one was beyond redemption. Before the Rift, the war that had seen Lucifer and his Fallen cast from Paradise, they had all been one. The sight of the trio gave them hope that even the oldest of wounds had the chance to heal.

‘They’re all staring at us,’ said Verin. ‘Don’t these people have better things to do?’

‘You two never cared about being in the spotlight before,’ replied Kaarl. ‘If anything you sought it out. Perhaps if you wore clothes they might have less cause to stare.’

‘Don’t try to change us,’ replied Verin.

‘I’m not trying to change you.’ said Kaarl. ‘I was offering a solution to the attention you suddenly don’t want anymore. Clothes might help.’

‘Those Chinos make you look fat.’

‘Really?’ asked Kaarl ‘You’re starting this crap already?’

‘I told you you’d pay.’

Kaarl shook his head.

‘This is childish, Verin, even for you.’

‘Your face is childish.’

Kaarl braced himself for a long and excruciatingly annoying day.

The crowd began to thin out as the procession reached the entranceway to the Halls of Knowledge, a massive pair of gates set between two bronze Angels. The statues’ hands stretched above their heads and they held a large tome between them.

‘That’s so typical,’ said Vetis as they passed under the statues. ‘A girl and a boy so no one feels left out and they’re holding a book because it’s a school.’

‘Not to mention the bronze,’ added her sister. ‘Even red people can’t complain about racism when you use metal.’

‘Yet in a way you still are,’ said Kaarl.

The Halls of Knowledge were large, impressive sandstone buildings. None of them stood higher than four stories but what they lacked in height they more than made up for in width. In front of the arched entranceways stood statues denoting purpose; a globe for Geography, a large clock for History and so on. Kaarl struggled to think of a likely subject for the two statues hugging in front of one of the doorways.

‘Might be Sex Education,’ said Verin, looking over his shoulder. ‘If that’s the case I’ll be teaching that class before the end of the day.’

The quad in the centre of the campus was a lush expanse of perfectly manicured grass. As the trio took their seats on the ground, the twins surveyed their fellow academics. With so many students talking at once the noise was chaotic. While the sisters were rating boys and making snide comments about the other girls Kaarl took his own chance to evaluate their peers. White seemed to be the preferred colour of choice for Angels however there were emerald greens, sapphire blues and even some midnight blacks dotted about. Although the masses were a riot of colour there seemed to be no red beyond the wings of a few Angels, and they certainly weren’t as vibrant as the girls’ shading.

The twins will be happy that they’re still special little snowflakes, Kaarl thought.

The conversations began to die down, starting with those students closest to the stage. It appeared that a heat wave was making its way across the wooden platform but the blue flashes at head height gave away the distortion’s true nature: Sophie, the Angel of Wisdom and member of the Council of Virtues. Her body was crystal, something resembling diamond but with a much higher clarity. It made her transparent and had the effect of distorting everything when one looked at, or rather through her. Her eyes were a fluorescent blue and the only way to tell it was actually Sophie rather than the first signs of a cataract forming.

‘Welcome,’ Sophie said once she had reached the centre. Her voice brought an end to all but one of the conversations amongst the students.

‘He’s a seven at the best,’ said Verin, drawing disapproving glances from the students around her. ‘Unless you’re drunk. Are you drunk? Why aren’t you sharing?’

Kaarl gave Verin a gentle nudge and she scowled at him before turning her attention to the stage.

‘I am Sophie,’ the Angel continued. ‘As many of you know I am a member of the Council but more importantly, for your time here anyway, I am the Chancellor of the Halls of Knowledge.’

‘Another job,’ Vetis whispered, ‘only a single mum would work that hard.’

‘I didn’t think she had kids,’ replied Verin.

‘These Halls have existed for almost as long as we have,’ Sophie told the students, ‘and it is within these walls that you shall learn about everything from the Rift to the Mortal realm as it is today.’

In Perdition, the Rift and the reasons for it had been a closely guarded secret. Kaarl had been given a brief explanation before Lucifer had sent him to Earth but he was under no illusions; most of the things the Light Bearer had told him were probably lies. Learning about the Rift, the war that had seen his parents cast from Paradise, from a more reliable source would be interesting.

‘If you wish to help Paradise and the Mortals then what you learn in this place will be essential,’ said Sophie. ‘There is a fine line between guidance and manipulation, a line that can blur depending on the situation you find yourself in. You will need a solid foundation to recognise the difference between the two and act with integrity.’

‘Been there, done that,’ said Verin.

‘During the next three years we will observe your progress closely. Your learning plans have been individually tailored, focusing on areas we feel you need guidance in. If, after your final exams, we feel you are not ready to represent our realm on Earth you will be forbidden to put a foot down there until you can prove yourself suitable.’

‘You didn’t tell us that,’ hissed Verin.

Kaarl shook his head in disbelief.

‘I didn’t know.’

Kaarl struggled to focus on the rest of Sophie’s speech. No matter how slim it was, there was a chance that he would be banned from returning to the Mortal realm. Paradise may have been his new realm but as far as Kaarl was concerned Earth was his home. He had worked hard to get there and even harder to stay. Kaarl had been under the impression that Angels could come and go as they pleased between Paradise and the Mortal realm. He had even used it as a selling point when convincing the twins to join him in his defection.

‘You said we could live in either realm,’ said Vetis.

‘That’s what I thought,’ replied Kaarl. ‘I mean, everything I was told –’

‘Enough,’ said Verin, cutting him off. ‘Don’t get us wrong, Paradise is OK but if we have to spend all of our time up here we will go nuts. We need Earth; it has just enough grime so we don’t lose the plot and go on a rampage.’

‘I’ll sort it out,’ Kaarl promised.

As the applause for Sophie’s speech tapered off Kaarl launched himself up and headed towards the stage.

‘I thought you would want to see me,’ Sophie said as he landed.

‘And I’m sure you know why.’

The Angel of Wisdom politely waved away a few other students as they approached.

‘We make allowances for essential travel and your task in the Mortals’ realm definitely qualifies,’ said Sophie. ‘You will need supervision but we have given that role to Gabriel so it is not a major change. The only difference is that you cannot live there; when you are not working you will need to be here. Until your studies are completed of course.

‘I was under the impression that when we joined you both realms would be open to us. I told Verin and Vetis as much when I asked them to come with me.’

‘That was not the reason you chose to embrace our cause,’ replied Sophie.

‘No it wasn’t; you showed me what I was doing in a different light and I knew it was wrong. Verin and Vetis saw that as well but freedom was a big factor in their decision to join me. They like it here but they need the chance to cut loose now and then. It’s just not in them to stay cooped up in Paradise.’

‘I am sure the twins will do everything in their power to pass their tests,’ replied Sophie, ‘and when they have done so they may come and go as they wish. I know these new restrictions will be difficult to adjust to but it should be enough to keep them happy. If worse comes to worst they’ll just have to re-sit. It is not like the door will be forever closed to them.’

‘It still feels like we were lied to,’ said Kaarl, crossing his arms. ‘Well, like I was lied to and I passed it on.’

‘It is true that you are free to move between realms, after you pass the tests.’

‘That’s a pretty important detail that was either left out or glossed over.’

‘I have every faith that all three of you will pass the first time around,’ replied Sophie, ‘so it is not that important. There was no attempt to mislead you, Kaarl; this has been our way since Paradise’s first dealings with the Mortals.’

‘That would have been a good thing to know before today.’

‘Would it have affected your decision to join us?’ asked Sophie.

‘No, but it would have been nice to have the full story. It was a big shock finding out like this.’

Sophie’s finger made a faint clinking sound as she tapped her chin.

‘I can offer to tutor the three of you personally if you are struggling,’ she said after a moment. ‘The fact you were born in Lucifer’s realm should be taken into account and compensated for.’

‘That seems fair,’ said Kaarl. ‘Verin and Vetis will probably still complain but it should go some way to smoothing this over.’

‘It will have to do for now,’ the Angel of Wisdom told him. ‘Sorry to rush you off but there are others waiting to see me and I have a lot to do today. If I think of anything else that we should have explained to you in detail I’ll let you know.’

‘That would be nice,’ said Kaarl, flaring his wings and rising up. ‘I’d better go find the twins before they break something.’

One of the benefits of Verin and Vetis’ unusual colouring was that they were easy to spot from above. The sisters were talking to three Angels as Kaarl swooped in beside them. The apparent leader of the girls was stunning; long-legged with skin of polished silver that glittered in the sun.

‘Listen,’ said Verin to the silver Angel. ‘I don’t know who you are or what your problem is but–’

Her sister pulled her aside and whispered in her ear.

‘Oh, you’re that Sasha. You got your boyfriend back when I was done with him so I don’t see what the big deal is. Get over it.’

‘I don’t think you realise who you’re messing with,’ replied Sasha, her delicate hands balling up into fists.

Verin stepped forward and smiled.

‘It’s you that should be careful,’ she told the girl. ‘I was born in Hell, I count Lucifer, Light Bearer and Son of the Morning, amongst my close, personal enemies and I’ve seen Million Dollar Baby like six times. Unless you really like hospital food I’d leave if I were you.’

Sasha gave Verin a long, venomous look before turning on her heels and storming off.

‘Making friends already?’ asked Kaarl.

Verin shrugged.

‘Not my fault she can’t hold onto her stuff.’

‘What did Sophie say?’ asked Vetis.

‘The good news is we still get to go to the Mortal realm for work,’ Kaarl told the twins. ‘The bad news is it’s only for work. The tests, and the ban if we flunk them, apply to us as much as anyone else. Sophie said she is sure we’ll pass though and she is willing to tutor us if we struggle.’

‘I guess that’s something,’ said Verin. ‘If we need a tutor we probably can’t do much better than the Angel of Wisdom.’

‘No moaning or sulking?’ asked Kaarl, unable to mask his surprise.

Verin’s eyes were firmly fixed on Sasha’s back as the Angel walked away.

‘It’s the first day of school and I’m already enemies with the most popular girl here,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got bigger things to worry about.’

Chapter Two: Better late than never

In Hell, as on Earth, the most memorable lessons are taught more often by failure than success. Lucifer’s son Damon had learnt his in the hardest, most brutal way possible; it had cost the boy his life. In front of the fiery Gates of Perdition, the portal from the Mortal realm to their own, Demons and Damned Mortals alike had watched on as the Lord of their realm incinerated Damon with a flick of his wrist. Those present would never forget the look of indifference on their master’s face, the glint in his violet eyes or the way his enormous black wings stirred the ash that had only moments before been his son.

Lucifer had seen hints that Kaarl was wavering and Damon had been sent to the Mortal realm to take the reins of Synergy. When Kaarl, Verin and Vetis had confirmed the Light Bearer’s suspicions and turned their backs on Perdition it had fallen to Damon to return the trio to Hell to face his father’s justice. The boy had failed spectacularly in both endeavours and paid the ultimate price for his shortcomings. Lucifer had sent a clear message to his realm as his words, and the specks that remained of his first-born child fell on the assembled masses. Failure was not something the Light Bearer would tolerate from anyone.

Three years had passed since Kaarl and the sisters had betrayed the realm, turning from Lucifer’s embrace and taking up Paradise’s cause. Damon had long since been dragged from his lightless cell and punished but the whole affair was still the main topic of conversation in Perdition. In taverns and alehouses across the stone city its residents argued incessantly over the fallout from the betrayal.

‘It’ll be another war,’ said an enormous Demon. His voice boomed across the crowded bar and his red hands dwarfed the tankard they held. ‘He has to make a big move soon and you mark my words, it’ll be war between us and Paradise that comes next.’

‘You’ve been saying that for two years now,’ a grey Demon shouted back from the pool table, ‘and nothing’s changed.’

‘That’s not true at all,’ said one of the Damned.

Dressed in the curry-stained baby-blue bathrobe he had died in, the man had a scraggly, hobo-like beard and was clearly very drunk. He slurred almost every word.

‘We are disappearing,’ the man continued, draining his glass. ‘Almost every day I hear of someone that’s lost a friend and never seen them again. I’m missing a few myself.’

The man pointed to the empty seat beside him and belched before attempting to speak again. The patrons nearest to him pulled the man away from the bar and out of the tavern before he could utter another word. The red Demon’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Damned drag their inebriated companion away.

‘Remind me why we come here, Nicor,’ he growled.

‘It’s close to home,’ the grey Demon told his friend, ‘easier to stumble back from when we’re done for the day. The ale is not half bad either.’

‘It seems like they’ll let anyone in though. Let’s find a tavern where these Mortals are either banned or know their bloody place.’

Humans were second class citizens in Perdition and, much like the elderly, they were expected to be seen and not heard. Mortals were Hell’s currency in the Game of Souls and claiming them was Lucifer’s top priority but once they were dead and Damned they became little more than background noise and a nuisance as far as the Demons were concerned.

Most of the Damned were content with the arrangement. After discovering Hell was filled with brothels and bars rather than fire and brimstone, being ignored or treated like dirt by the Demons seemed a small price to pay. In truth Hell would have been very much like their worst nightmares had Lucifer not seen realm-wide eternal torture as merely a waste of his Demons’ time. Never-ending torment was labour intensive and Lucifer saved that punishment for a special few: the Damned that had killed thousands of their fellow men and women before their descent. Their actions had echoed across history and they had deprived Lucifer forever of the chance to claim those innocent souls caught up in their wars and schemes. For that transgression they suffered far worse a fate than anything a Mortal mind could envisage.

Aside from the constant and still unexplained disappearances of the Damned very little had actually changed in Perdition. Immortal lives of sin and depravity had continued unhindered and most Mortals found new friends to replace the ones that had gone missing without a trace. Rumours and theories about Hell’s “next move” persisted but with each day that passed the rank and file grew more confident that whatever was going to happen didn’t involve them. Demon and Damned alike wanted to see Perdition win the Game of the Souls but no one wanted the duty of making it happen to fall on their shoulders. The lesson learnt from Damon’s demise was still fresh in their minds; with great responsibility came the chance for great punishment in service to the Light Bearer.

The sprawling city was comprised almost entirely of small stone buildings, surrounded on all sides by an endless sea of black sand. Soul Reaper tower however could be seen from anywhere in the realm; it almost touched the majestic burning sky that gave Perdition its heat and light. It was the workplace of the Fallen; the first of the Angels to turn to Lucifer’s cause during the Rift. Inside the immense marble structure, Hell’s highest ranking officials were about to learn they had no such hope of shirking responsibility. Perdition’s Board of Directors and most important employees worked ceaselessly within the Tower to bring Lucifer’s vision to life. While most of them toiled to keep his vast city running and made plans to claim the immortal souls of specific men, women and children, a select few had been ordered to attend a secret meeting. It would be their job to set the stage for the main event.

In his favourite black handmade suit, Mastema, Tempter of Men and Cursed Accuser, arrived at the meeting twenty minutes late; as was his custom. Making sure his jet-black hair was perfectly in place the suave Demon Lord shoved the massive doors open and strode into the boardroom. The glorious and fearsome sight of the Light Bearer and Son of Morning sitting atop his throne at the head of the blackened oak table caused him to misstep slightly. A colossus of white gold and black wings, the sight of Lucifer never failed to inspire and strike fear in equal measure.

‘You think it wise to make me wait?’ asked Lucifer as Mastema took a place at the table.

Although his voice sounded like a whisper it carried clearly to every corner of the room. The contrast of the soft honeyed words coming from the Light Bearer’s massive frame always unnerved even the most fearsome of the Lords. Lucifer’s raven-dark wings flared briefly and his violet eyes held Mastema’s black in a death grip.

‘My sincerest apologies, Master,’ replied the Tempter of Men, bowing before taking his seat. ‘With my new duties and the differences in time zones I made a mistake and it shall not happen again.’

‘My knowledge of the Mortal realm is somewhat limited,’ admitted Lucifer. ‘But I am sure that time zone changes are measured in hours.’

‘For the most part, my Master, you are correct. Some however are in half-hour increments which in fact makes me ten minutes early for this meeting in Kabul.’

‘We are not in Kabul,’ shouted Abaddon, King of Demons, Voice of Lucifer and Chairman of the Board.

In his blood-red robe with gold trim he stood at Lucifer’s right hand, well and truly sick of Mastema’s blatant disregard for protocol. In the centuries since the Board had been formed Mastema had almost never been on time for a meeting, forcing his fellow Lords to wait. The only exceptions had been when he knew the Light Bearer would be in attendance and even then he had cut it perilously close. Mastema had finally slipped and Abaddon almost frothed at the mouth as he prepared to take full advantage of the rare mistake.

Lucifer raised his hand to halt the impending tirade.

‘I know you enjoy making the Board wait, Mastema, and I for one find it hilarious; but not when you do it to me. You are long out of my grace and the next time it happens I shall remove you from your position and imprison you for eternity in the smallest cell I can find.’

A look of concern crept over Lucifer’s face.

‘And what would your poor wife do then?’ he asked. ‘Deumos is a beautiful creature and I find myself short one child. Perhaps I might be able to comfort her, to help her through the grief of her loss.’

‘I’m sure my wife would be honoured by your attentions.’ replied Mastema. ‘And I would not want to see her lonely and untended should I perish. I did however notice a strange burning sensation after my last tryst with her. The ointment for this is in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet if you find yourself with a similar affliction after sampling her womanly wares.’

Abaddon’s rage grew with the grin on the Light Bearer’s face. Mastema had an uncanny ability for avoiding almost certain reprisal; one that never seemed to fail him. The King of Demons, and indeed the rest of the Board, eagerly awaited the day when his excuses and jokes were not enough to dodge punishment.

‘I call this meeting to order then,’ Abaddon said, once his calm had returned and it was clear no immediate punishment was forthcoming. ‘Asteroth, if you would?’

The Treasurer of Perdition, a short, fat Demon-Lord in ink-stained robes, stood to address the Board. There were a few members missing, Mastema noted, most prominently Samael, Bringer of Death and Destruction. The room smelt better for his absence and Mastema assumed the brute would be furious at being left out of something important. He made a mental note to rub the fact in as soon as he saw him.

‘I will not be going over exact figures in any depth during this meeting,’ Asteroth told the Board to their unconcealed delight. ‘But I do have handouts for those who are interested. Our esteemed Master has asked for the most basic of financial rundowns, just enough to give you all some background for today’s meeting.’

The Treasurer flicked through the parchments piled in front of him.

‘Our actual soul count is diminishing; funds have been leaking steadily from it for the past two and a half years. All gains from our last move in the Mortal realm have evaporated and we are cutting heavily into our savings. The projected soul count is abysmal and well short of what we’d need to make up for the losses. In short, our fiscal situation is dire and getting worse with each moment.’

Losing projected souls was bad enough; losing ones that were already in the coffers was unforgiveable. The Lords began eyeing up their peers, looking for a way to escape responsibility for the deficit and the certain punishment that would come with it.

‘Before you all start blaming each other,’ said Lucifer, ‘I want to tell you this is unfortunate but expected. Mastema’s son, who we all know is a hard worker as well as a traitorous dog, has a certain way with the Mortals. It seems Kaarl has a knack for getting them to walk the path of weakness instead of the one to Perdition. I do not know how he can do this whilst still sticking to their pathetic tenets of free will and choice, nor do I care.’

There was a malevolent glint in Lucifer’s eyes as they met Mastema’s.

‘If your little runt wasn’t running Perdition into the ground I could almost admire his accomplishments,’ he said.

Under Perdition’s banner Kaarl had driven the Mortals ever closer to Lucifer’s grip. The Board had lost touch with their prey; they no longer understood the creatures whose souls they were hunting. With Kaarl’s knowledge of them and their new, modern world he had been the perfect choice to lead the charge. He had been young, fresh blood in a battle that had raged since the dawn of Humanity; until he had chosen to defy Lucifer and fight for Paradise instead. The Light Bearer rose from his throne and each Lord struggled in turn to maintain his composure as the Master of Perdition strolled behind him. A few of them even flinched as Lucifer passed their chairs.

‘As for the decrease in the actual soul count,’ Lucifer continued. ‘This is my doing. You have to spend souls to make souls and believe me I am spending them well.

Although the Board would not dare to make a sound while their master was speaking a visible wave of relief swept around the table. A few of its members had heard of the disappearances but not of the scale of them. In truth they didn’t care; it was only the Damned after all. Issues in Perdition only became actual problems if Lucifer deemed them so and the fact that he was behind the declining numbers was a welcome revelation.

‘That is in fact the purpose for this meeting,’ said the Light Bearer. ‘To let you all know what I have been spending them on and where we will go from here.’

The Board waited in breathless anticipation as Lucifer returned to his throne.

‘I am sending the Four Horsemen to the Mortal Realm,’ he told them as he took his seat. ‘And the souls spent have been used to feed them.’

The Board were unable to hide their disbelief. Had Lucifer not been present they would have been in an uproar; instead they sat open-mouthed and wide-eyed, awaiting an explanation. Asmodeus, Demon of Wrath, had a reputation as a Lord of few words. He was the first to speak however when no further information seemed forthcoming. The towering and imposing Lord stood and waited for permission to address the Light Bearer.

‘Forgive me, my Master,’ he said once it was granted. ‘I was under the impression that they were a tool of the Hated One.’

‘God may have created them but whose tool they are is a matter of perspective,’ replied Lucifer. ‘When the End Times come they will ride forth, wiping the worst parts of Humanity from that realm and if we have done our jobs they will in fact be filling our coffers, reaping what we have sown. In essence that would make them mine, not God’s.’

‘Again I must beg your forgiveness,’ said Asmodeus. ‘But are we not far from the End Times?’

‘For now at least that works in our favour; were Humanity to be wiped out at this moment we would well and truly lose the Game.’

Lucifer leant forward and flashed his perfect white teeth.

‘Gabriel broke an ancient and almost forgotten law when he came through our gates on Kaarl’s behalf. It’s deliciously ironic really; God’s own champion has given us this chance to rip success from the jaws of failure.’

When Kaarl had turned away from Perdition and started to work for Paradise, Gabriel – God’s Champion and the Bane of Demons – had come to Perdition to threaten Lucifer, to force him into letting the fight between Damon and Kaarl play out by itself. The Angel had thought it only fair that the two face each other in the Mortal realm with no interference from either side. Although Kaarl had switched allegiances he was still making amends at the time and his place in Paradise was far from assured. Nergal, Lucifer’s Enforcer and the leader of Hell’s Secret Police, had been closing in. If Kaarl’s Mortal form had been destroyed he would have been sent back to Perdition and straight into Lucifer’s clutches. By coming to Perdition and threatening to expose Damon Gabriel had got his wish and unknowingly paved the way for the Horsemen at the same time.

‘Thanks to Gabriel’s lapse in judgement I have the opportunity to send the Horsemen to Earth on Perdition’s behalf,’ explained Lucifer. ‘They will not be able to consume nations as they would in the End Times but with the souls sacrificed I’ve ensured they have enough power to leave a mark. If all goes to plan they will start a chain of events that should more than make up for the hefty investment.’

‘So they are like mercenaries?’ asked Mastema, all propriety forgotten in the shock of the revelation.

‘In a way,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Gabriel weakened the barriers between the realms when he passed through my gate and his little tantrum down here made all manner of sub clauses and addendums to the Old Law null and void. We have more than enough lawyers down here so finding a way to profit from his transgression was child’s play. Long story short: the Horsemen have the opportunity to freelance for me before their final ride.’

With a snap of Lucifer’s fingers Nergal appeared beside the Light Bearer. In his true form he was a faint shadow; a wisp of smoke able to stalk through Perdition without notice in the performance of his duties. If the need for physical violence arose, something Nergal revelled and excelled in, he would solidify himself into a grey beast of teeth and fury with four arms ending in vicious scythes. Feared throughout Perdition, stories of his exploits terrified old and young alike. The Lords were no more immune to the unsettling effects of his presence than the rest of their realm.

While the Board considered the reason for his attendance the doors to their meeting room burst open. Persephone, Lucifer’s daughter, entered with a full complement of Nergal’s Demons in tow. All uniformly tall and broad of shoulder, their obsidian armour glistened and the vicious war-hammers normally strapped to their backs were at the ready. Samael, an immense mountain of muscle decked in skulls and a loin cloth, brought up the rear and slammed the doors shut.

While the Demonic soldiers took up positions behind the Board, Persephone made her way to her father’s throne. With hair and skin of gold, the girl was a sight to behold. Beautiful beyond words, she had black eyes, a vicious and inviting white smile and moved across the room with deadly grace. The Princess of Perdition gave her father a kiss on the cheek before taking a seat on his knee.

‘Hi Father, I brought the executioners just like you asked.’ Persephone pointed at Asteroth. ‘Can we start with the fat one? I’d love to watch his belly ripple and rupture under the hammer.’

The Treasurer’s eyes widened and the other Lords looked close to begging for their lives or attempting to escape. Lucifer’s harsh laughter echoed throughout the boardroom.

‘Calm yourselves,’ the Light Bearer told them. ‘My daughter merely jests. Nergal’s men are here to ensure secrecy. My plan is almost ready to be played out and I cannot risk Paradise finding out about it before it is underway. These warriors will be following your every move from now on, to ensure there are no leaks. Guard your tongues outside of this room; one careless word about any of this means death for you and your families.’

Again with the threats to families, thought Mastema. What need did a Lord have for a family if he was dead? The idea of his life ending was sufficient motivation for the Tempter of Men and he was sure the same was true for his fellow Board members. Killing families seemed excessive and highly unnecessary but Mastema held his tongue on the matter. It was something to contemplate in silence on the golf course, not to be questioned out loud.

‘I have asked many of you to take on additional duties,’ the Light Bearer said. ‘You have been working in secret, ignorant of each other and the parts you play. Now that you know our aims we can go forward as a group.

Lucifer snapped his fingers and pointed at the Cursed Accuser.

‘Mastema, you were late so you can go first. Fill the Board in on your assignment but be brief, we have a lot to get through.’

‘Of course, Master,’ the Tempter of Men said as he rose. ‘I have been tasked with unravelling the secrets of the Internet. Kaarl found a way to bring it to our realm but we have lacked an expert amongst our ranks. Therefore I have been studying it intensely to fill that role. Thanks to my diligence and formidable intellect I now have the ability to answer any question we might have about the modern Mortal and its world.’

‘Really?’ scoffed Pyro, the Lord of Deceit. ‘Even for a braggart like you that is a big call.’

‘Any question,’ repeated Mastema, placing his palms on the table. ‘You give it to me, I can answer it. You name a subject and I’ll tell you anything and everything you need to know about it. If you’d like to start wagering against my abilities, I welcome all challengers.’

‘I knew I kept you around for something,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Have you learnt anything important from your studies?’

‘Mortals enjoy kittens that talk, pornography, and giving each other updates on their boring and mundane existences, seemingly in that order. Pictures of food that they are about to eat also rate highly.’

‘He is lying,’ shouted Pyro. ‘No one is that stupid.’

‘It also seems there was a great conflict between pirates and ninjas. Reports were sketchy as to which side won and I recently found evidence that suggests it may be still going on.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Lucifer, as he motioned for Mastema to sit. ‘From now on you shall be working closely with Nergal and Persephone. I understand we lack the knowledge to move this…“Internet” from your mansion to a more secure location so that will have to do as a meeting place.’

As the other Lords began recounting their new duties Mastema quickly put together the pieces. The Horsemen and Persephone were being sent to the Mortal realm to start a war, one that would consume their entire world. Although not mentioned specifically, it was also clear that the majority of the Mortals would need to be forced by fear or frustration into acts of depravity before their deaths. It was often the innocent more than the sinful that suffered and died during wars and Perdition could not allow that to happen. Those souls would be lost to them forever; more tallies against them on a board that was already heavily skewed towards the opposition. The details of how they would do it, the most important part of any plan, had not been finalised but the overall goal was obvious.

It was an ambitious play, one Mastema would have been proud to be a part of had he not been so sure it would eat into his golfing time for the foreseeable future. With his role already discussed and the overall objective clear, the mystery was gone and Mastema soon lost interest in the meeting.

‘Give me some of those budget handouts,’ he whispered to Asteroth as Abaddon outlined the projected timeline for the venture.

‘Of course,’ the Treasurer replied. ‘At least someone besides Lucifer recognises the significance of my work. How many do you need?’

‘I’ll probably need the whole stack,’ said Mastema, patting his stomach. ‘The executive bathroom is out of toilet paper and I had a large breakfast.’

Chapter Three: The quickest way to a man’s heart

Deep in the bowels of Mastema’s grey stone mansion Nergal floated back and forth like a freshly caged tiger with ADD. The leader of Hell’s Secret Police and Bringer of Lucifer’s Divine Justice had been relegated to little more than a babysitter. Nergal knew that sentiment wasn’t entirely fair; the girl had potential, he could see that, and she was far easier to stomach that her brother had been. Damon had been arrogant and ignorant; he had thought himself greater than his father and that hubris had been his downfall.

Nergal decided it was the surroundings that were responsible for his foul mood; being in Kaarl’s old room hours on end every day for three weeks had begun to take its toll. Perdition’s most famous traitor, the boy who had thwarted Nergal’s mission to help Damon, had lived in that very room. The place had become a constant reminder of his failure and the fact that Nergal was stuck with the boy’s father made it even worse. Like almost all of Perdition he hated Mastema; the good-looking, arrogant, quick-witted and lucky fool who somehow had retained his position despite centuries of tardiness, half-assed work and hastily covered mistakes.

While Persephone examined Kaarl’s belongings the Cursed Accuser sat hunched over a glass panel. It served as a monitor and had been Kaarl’s only real link to the Mortal world before he had struck his deal with Lucifer.

‘This is another fine example,’ said Mastema. ‘Not quite related to our mission but –’

‘It’s a picture of a cat wearing shoes,’ said Nergal. ‘It is in no way whatsoever related to our mission.’

‘Well you haven’t asked me to look for new information for awhile,’ replied Mastema. ‘Seeing as we had some downtime I thought I might try and brighten our day a little. He does look rather dashing in his little shoes.’

‘That’s another thing,’ said Nergal. ‘You haven’t unravelled anything, all of your talk about hours of study and a formidable intellect was hot air. You just type whatever we ask into that “Google” thing and then click on the blue words. A monkey could do your job.’

‘I make it look that easy. You can’t do what I do.’

‘What was he like?’ asked Persephone. The question out of the blue stopped Nergal from solidifying and lacerating Mastema’s disgustingly handsome face.

‘I can’t say rightly,’ replied Mastema. ‘As far as cats go he is one of the better examples I’ve seen. It might just be the shoes though; I’ve developed a bit of a bias towards felines with good fashion sense.’

‘I meant Kaarl,’ said Persephone, putting a book back on its shelf. ‘We’ve spent a lot of time in this room but I’m still not getting a sense of the Demon he was.’

‘My favourite expression for him was “worthless waste of my seed”,’ said Mastema, ‘although “pansy” and “lily-livered Mortal lover” are close to the top spot.’

‘I didn’t ask what you thought of him,’ Persephone replied. ‘I asked what he was like. You hold your son in low regard yet he got the best of my father, my brother, Nergal and every other Demon sent up there to stop him.’

‘He had help in all that,’ said Mastema. ‘He had Gabriel and as if that weren’t enough, the Angel of Death and Destruction as well.’

‘Father believes most of it was because of Kaarl,’ replied Persephone. ‘He said Gabriel and Samkiel were little more than the muscle. I think he admires your son.’

‘That’s ridiculous, the boy is a traitor.’

‘Kaarl turned against the only master he had ever known and walked his own path. In spite of everything else that happened I’m sure my father can appreciate that, if only for the irony.’

Distractions and sidetracking during the meetings had worn thin with Nergal. Normally it was Mastema who was the cause of the delays; clicking on the myriad of colourful things that popped up as they were meant to be researching. The fool had spent hours trying to order erectile dysfunction pills for Abaddon. Persephone had often stayed silent; besides the odd comment or question she had spent an inordinate amount of time studying Kaarl’s personal effects. It was unusual for her to veer off-topic and it was something that needed to be corrected before it became a habit.

‘If I may, Princess,’ said Nergal. ‘Our task is to find away to incite violence across the Mortal realm, not learn more about Kaarl. I’m sure your father’s patience wears thin at our lack of progress.’

‘Fine,’ replied Persephone, taking a seat on the bed. ‘What do you think our best options are so far?’

‘Religion is one,’ said Nergal. ‘Mortals have been fighting for hundreds of years over which God or Gods are the correct ones. Some even fight over facets of the same deity.’

‘They are still doing it,’ added Mastema. ‘Perhaps with a little encouragement–’

‘Like you’ve said, they have been doing it for hundreds of years,’ replied Persephone, ‘and we aren’t exactly getting record numbers out of it anymore. Next.’

‘Racism,’ said Nergal, glancing at his list. ‘Some Mortals hate each other based on skin colour or ethnicity. Others fight to the death merely because they were born on different sides of the same country. Perhaps we could foster that animosity?’

‘It’s not all of them,’ replied Persephone. ‘And from what we’ve seen most of it boils down to stereotyping, derogatory jokes and snide comments between like-minded people. Racism is a lifestyle choice if anything and it very rarely results in enough deaths these days to be considered profitable. Next.’

As each option was discussed Persephone shot it down. Strategic political assassinations were a waste of the Horsemen’s talents and there was no guarantee they would work. Murderous riots weren’t a given and the next person to fill the power void might not be the right fit. Dictators tended to settle down after achieving the top spot, concentrating on maintaining their power rather than expanding beyond their borders. Surrounded by solid gold toilets, sex slaves and high definition TVs they often lost their appetite for war and that would not suit Perdition’s purposes.

Nergal felt a twist in the place where the pit of his stomach would have been with each idea dismissed. Three weeks’ worth of Mastema was more than enough for the enforcer and he was in danger of losing his sanity. He had already lost his temper on a few occasions and Nergal prized his self-control. The Tempter of Men and Cursed Accuser had seriously damaged his calm.

‘Perhaps we could look elsewhere for answers or ideas?’ said Mastema. ‘We have Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot and all of their kind right here, maybe we could learn something from them. I’m sure they’d appreciate a short break from the torture.’

‘A singularly stupid idea.’ said Persephone. ‘There is a reason why they suffer while the rest of the Mortals get to drink themselves stupid down here; they killed more innocents than Damned with their shenanigans and inadvertently helped the Hated One. Following in their footsteps is the fast path to failure.’

‘I didn’t mean our whole plan should come from them verbatim,’ replied Mastema. ‘But perhaps we might get some inspiration. Whatever we come up with will no doubt be cobbled together from many ideas. It seems the only way to address the bigger issue underlying all of this.’

‘What bigger issue?’ asked Nergal.

Mastema stood and arched his back. Hours spent over the glass panel had begun to take its toll and he didn’t want to suffer any permanent damage. Nothing ruined the effect of a good suit like bad posture.

‘The way the Mortals fight these days is the bigger issue,’ replied Mastema, shooting his cuffs. ‘In the good old days it was all sword on sword. Two Mortals, one death, and either the loser or the victor was ours nine times out of ten. Now they have these nuclear weapons and flying murder robots. A small room of Mortals can be responsible for the death of hundreds or even millions of their own kind. It may be a more efficient way for them to do things but all those souls will count against us if we haven’t secured them first. We’ll be shooting ourselves in the foot if we go about this the wrong way.’

Mastema grinned at the silence that followed his explanation.

These idiots had not even considered the implications of innocents dying by our hands, he thought.

Insulting Lucifer’s daughter would not have been wise but someone needed their face rubbed in the obvious.

‘I realised this before our first meeting with the Board drew to a close,’ said Mastema. ‘Foresight is one of the many benefits of a formidable intellect.’

He turned to Nergal.

‘Do you mean to tell me the leader of Hell’s Secret Police, a Demon whose job apparently revolves around intelligence, didn’t take this rather important detail into account? Who is the monkey now, Nergal? ’

The smoke began to flicker and take shape.

‘That’s enough,’ said Persephone before things escalated further.

‘I agree,’ said Mastema with a nod. ‘I think I’ve contributed more than enough today to warrant a break. I could kill for a sandwich right about now.’

Persephone snapped her fingers.

‘That’s it!’

‘What’s “it”?’ asked Nergal.

‘Food,’ replied Persephone. ‘An army marches on its stomach and the common folk riot when theirs are empty. We’ll make the powerful “haves” trade places with the developing “have nots” and sit back and watch the fun. One side will have all the guns and the other will have all the food. Mortals will sin to fill their bellies and die in droves soon after.’

‘A fine plan,’ said Mastema. ‘A veritable recipe for disaster, if you’ll pardon the pun. If we do this right, people will be beating their neighbours to death over a loaf of bread and countries will be fighting wars over fields of wheat.’

‘Pestilence, Famine, War then Death,’ said Persephone, her pointed teeth glinting as she smirked. ‘Someone was even kind enough to name the Horsemen after the steps. You two can take a break, Nergal needs to cool off and I want you to send Deumos in here. When you get back we’ll figure out how to make this happen.’

‘What does my wife have to do with anything?’ asked Mastema, ‘and who will make my sandwich if she’s in here?’

‘You don’t question my father’s orders,’ replied Persephone, her black eyes narrowing. ‘If you want to keep breathing I suggest you extend me that same courtesy. Now go.’

While Mastema walked off to find something to eat and his better half, Nergal wavered in the doorway.

‘What is it now?’ asked Persephone, taking a seat at Kaarl’s desk.

‘Your brother made it his mission to make the traitors suffer,’ Nergal told her. ‘He ignored the bigger picture and it proved to be his undoing. If he had he focused on the task at hand he might still be alive.’

‘And I would still be stuck down here in my room.’ said Persephone. ‘Instead Damon is ash and I get to go to the Mortal realm and fight on the front lines. I can find a way to use Kaarl for our purposes and break him when I’m done, the twins too. I’m not my brother.’

You’re just worried about being outclassed by a girl, thought Persephone, leaning back in the chair as Nergal drifted out of the room.

Kaarl had proven himself too much for even the best of Lucifer’s forces to handle and it was a realm-wide embarrassment. Using him to further Perdition’s goals would be a master stroke and hurting him in the process would be icing on the cake. Because the trio had been accepted into Paradise killing either Kaarl or the twins was impossible, at least with any permanence, but there were other ways to do damage.

It was common knowledge that Kaarl had never been in a relationship; although not much could be learnt from his old room it was clear that the boy was no romantic. To most this would have signified another dead end but to Persephone it was an opportunity. If she could find a way to make him want her, to lift him up before breaking him down, it would leave a mark in a place not easily healed. The idea of Kaarl’s first taste of true love turning sour and choking him sent a chill down Persephone’s spine.

Deumos knocked on the doorway. With her long black hair, delicate features and svelte red figure she was proof to all young Demonettes that ageing could be accomplished gracefully.

‘You asked to see me?’

‘I did,’ replied Persephone with her warmest smile. ‘Please come in, sit.’

And while you’re at it, give me an opening so I can get inside your son and tear him apart.

***

A week after Persephone had unveiled her plan Lucifer looked down on the body of his daughter. The other Lords in the dimly lit chamber kept their distance, unsure of what their Master would make of the scene. The sheets around Persephone were drenched in her golden blood and the runes and symbols used in the rites were still glowing on her flesh.

‘And you say she didn’t scream?’ Lucifer asked Uphir.

The skeletal Demon physician finished drying his hands and removed his mask.

‘Not once, Master; she didn’t make a sound. You would have been proud.’

The Light Bearer and Son of Morning brushed a stray strand of hair from his daughter’s face.

‘How long will she be out for?’

‘An hour or two,’ Uphir replied, washing his tools. ‘No more. Recovery will take a few days though.’

‘And you’re sure these runes will work against Laylah?’

Asmoday the Deceiver stepped forward. A serpent in human form, his fangs dripped with venom and his tongue flickered as he spoke.

‘Persephone’s memories will match her story, Master,’ he said. ‘If the Hated One’s seer goes looking she will find nothing but what we want her to. The sigils will keep the rest hidden from her powers; pushing down anything we want to hide.’

Mastema managed to suppress a snigger. Asmoday’s lisp was a constant source of amusement to the Cursed Accuser.

‘Will Laylah be able to tell that the girl’s mind has been tampered with?’ asked Lucifer.

‘Some of the larger lies will be…fuzzy when she views them, Master. That is unavoidable.’

‘It was a tremendous undertaking,’ added Uphir. ‘Keeping the “old” Persephone but building entirely new memories in case she is examined in depth; nothing like this has been attempted before. There was a very real chance she could have died in the process.’

‘Then count yourselves lucky that wasn’t the case,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Clear this mess up and get my daughter back to her chambers. We begin as soon as she is ready to travel.’

Chapter Four: All work and no play

Gabriel, God’s Champion and the Bane of Demons, grimaced as he struggled with the portal. He was a giant etched from white granite and the work was better suited to smaller, more delicate hands. His eyes, balls of golden fire, flared briefly in frustration as the portal shimmered and closed for a fourth time. Most Angels would have been able to perform the weave on their first attempt but he had honed himself for battle rather than such mundane tasks.

The sound of young Angels laughing and fooling around drifted in as the door opened behind Gabriel.

‘How is it going?’ asked Kaarl, dropping his bag on the coffee table.

‘I’ve moved my stuff in,’ replied Gabriel, ‘not that there was much to move. Now there is just this to sort out.’

Gabriel pointed at the blank space in front of the sofas.

The student accommodations were plain but comfortable enough. Like the campus they were carved from sandstone and they had a magnificent view of the ocean. Normally the students were mixed; taken from their old social groups and housed with strangers so new bonds could be formed and new experiences had. The trio had been kept together, again because of their unique past. The last bed in their apartment had remained empty for almost week.

Verin and Vetis had hoped it would stay that way. They had assumed the Hall was waiting until another social outcast popped up to round out their quartet. Kaarl had taken offence at being put in that category; unlike the girls he was actually making a few friends. When the trio found it would be Gabriel taking the bed the twins relaxed. Not only did they know him but it would make things easier. He was their assigned observer in the Mortal realm so it saved time. Having to hunt him down whenever they needed to get to work would have been added hassle.

‘What’s it like being back here?’ asked Kaarl.

‘Strange,’ replied Gabriel. ‘It’s been centuries but the place hasn’t changed. It also makes me feel old, being around all these kids.’

Gabriel tried the weave again and again it shimmered and closed.

‘Is that a viewing portal?’ asked Kaarl. ‘We’ve just started learning about those.’

‘Supposed to be, it’s been so long since I’ve made one.’

Kaarl watched in silence as the massive Angel went through the motions. On the next attempt the portal held; a perfect rectangle. The image on the other side of it began to come into focus.

‘Hey, that’s our penthouse.’

Gabriel said nothing in reply. He flicked his hand to the left and the image panned. When he had it positioned just right, the Angel made a fist and the portal zoomed in.

‘That’s great,’ said Kaarl. ‘Now we can watch TV from here. Can you put the news on?’

‘Later,’ replied Gabriel. ‘I didn’t spend an hour on this thing so you could watch the news. This is more important.’

Gabriel vanished and reappeared in front of the TV in the Mortal realm.

‘I’ll have to do that each time we want to change the channel,’ he said when he returned, ‘but it’s better than nothing.’

‘The Arnold Schwarzenegger Marathon,’ said Kaarl as he read the screen.

God’s Champion dropped onto the sofa.

‘Like I said, important.’

The twins walked in and slammed the door behind them. Verin dumped her bag on the floor and Vetis made her way into the kitchen.

‘We found out what the hugging statues are for,’ said Verin. ‘It’s sensitivity training, as if we needed that. Worse still, Sasha is in that class. She’s in almost all of our classes.’

‘Hey, sweet,’ said Vetis as she walked back into the room. ‘We have TV.’

‘It’s our TV in the penthouse,’ Kaarl told them. ‘Gabriel set it up.’

‘He did set it up,’ the Angel said from the sofa. ‘He set it up so he could watch his action movies in peace. Your girly whinging is ruining said peace.’

‘Well why don’t you just go there and watch it?’ snapped Verin. ‘You’re not stuck here.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Gabriel replied. ‘I’ll see you three when you’re ready for work.’

‘Seriously, Sasha is everywhere,’ Verin said once Gabriel had left. ‘Every time we turn around her and her little gang of sycophants are there.’

‘It’s annoying more than anything,’ added Vetis. ‘She makes some snide comment, which isn’t really that hurtful, then her stupid friends snigger and we just have to take it. It’s not like we can just punch them.’

‘No you can’t,’ replied Kaarl, ‘at least not without conforming to the “Demon” stereotype. You probably aren’t doing yourselves any favours though by coming across as hostile and not making friends.’

‘We are making friends.’ said Verin. ‘But they’re all guys so it just makes things worse. Sasha keeps spreading rumours that we steal people’s boyfriends so when we’re seen talking to them it’s like proof or something.’

‘You two do steal people’s boyfriends, you did it all the time in Perdition. You’re relationship looters; you take anything shiny that isn’t nailed down.’

‘You’re supposed to be on our side,’ said Vetis, jumping onto one of the sofas.

‘And I am,’ replied Kaarl, ‘but you can’t call something a rumour if it’s the truth.’

‘I just don’t know if I can take three years of this,’ said Verin, joining her sister in the lounge. ‘It’s only been a week and I’m already in massacre mode. I hate girls.’

‘You’ll just have to ignore them,’ Kaarl told the sisters. ‘Best thing for everyone.’

The twins turned and glared at him.

‘I know that’s not what you want to hear but I don’t see another way around it.’

Kaarl left the girls to their sulking and started unpacking his text books. Unlike Verin and Vetis he was thoroughly enjoying his time in the Halls. Kaarl had studied the Mortals in his own time in Perdition, much to the disappointment of his father. Like all Demons, Mastema had seen the humans as mere chips in the poker game between God and Lucifer; unworthy of understanding and almost below contempt.

It had been their freedom that had initially intrigued Kaarl. Demons were expected to act a certain way, to be a certain way, and it just wasn’t in Kaarl’s nature to comply. The Mortals had no such restraints and it made them and their world diverse and interesting. It made it a place Kaarl wanted to live in. Lucifer had a stranglehold on Perdition and all were required to conform to his plan, to his way of thinking. The closest thing the Mortals had to those shackles were the expectations of their parents and society. By comparison they were easy enough to cast off.

Kaarl’s classes in the Halls delved deeper into the Mortal’s and their history; further than he would ever have got with just the Internet and conversations with the Damned he had been forced to rely on Perdition. The Mortals’ history on Earth was often written by the victor; opinions became fact and the truth was changed and diluted with time. In Paradise it had been penned by neutral observers. There were no politics to obscure it or agendas to alter it. Some of it was brutal, far worse than Kaarl could have imagined and other parts were beautiful beyond words. If there was one thing Kaarl craved it was knowledge and the Halls and its libraries did not disappoint.

It was a shame the sisters were having such a hard time but in truth it was mostly their fault. Petty vendettas aside, the important thing was that all of them graduated when the time came. Kaarl did not want to be separated from the twins; Synergy was as much theirs as his. They had started the journey together and it seemed only right that they took each step together as well.

‘Besides the whole “All the other girls hate us” scenario how are things going?’ Kaarl asked.

‘It’s all right I guess,’ replied Verin. ‘Like I said, the boys still talk to us and some of them are pretty hot.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘She knows what you meant,’ said Vetis, elbowing her sister. ‘We just have to think in exactly the opposite way to how we were raised. That makes most of the classes a bit easier.’

‘That’s something at least,’ said Kaarl. ‘Just remember, if things change we have to tell Sophie straight away. I don’t want you two falling behind and I don’t want this business with Sasha to affect your studies.’

‘Don’t worry,’ replied Verin. ‘Those finals are our ticket out of this mess. We’ve got our eyes on the prize.’

‘Glad to hear it. Let’s go check on our “other” lives.’

‘About time,’ said Vetis, ‘we need to get something to eat while we’re down there as well. Gabriel went to town on our fridge.’

***

Kaarl hit the white-oak panelled floor of the trio’s penthouse in L.A. His first ever experience with a realm change, the one from Perdition to Earth on Lucifer’s behalf, had been jolting. He no longer experienced the loss of vision, coordination or muscle control. A mild headache for a few minutes was the only side-effect of shifting realms for a frequent-flyer.

God’s Champion was sprawled on one of the sofas, his leg dangling off the edge. Tall, powerfully built and apparently in his mid-forties, Gabriel’s Mortal form bore a strong resemblance to George Clooney. Had Mr. Clooney been blessed with a forehead-to-chin facial scar and a physique capable of lifting mid-sized sedans they could have been brothers.

‘You’re in the way,’ said Gabriel, craning his neck to look around the Demon.

Kaarl stumbled out from in front on the TV and made his way to the bedrooms. The twins appeared in the same spot he had vacated just moments later.

‘Just great,’ said Gabriel. ‘It’s like you three are deliberately trying to annoy me.’

‘Shut up,’ replied Verin, shaking her head to clear it. ‘You ate all our food.’

‘I was going to get more later.’ replied the Angel. ‘I was hungry after the move. You guys normally eat when you’re here anyway so no harm done.’

‘We’re students,’ said Vetis.

‘Down here you’re almost billionaires and everything in Paradise is free so I don’t see how that’s relevant.’

Vetis’ mouth made a small “o” but no words followed.

‘That’s what I thought.’ said Gabriel. ‘Don’t cry poverty to me. Now get out of the way; Matrix is about to drop Sully off the cliff.’

It had been a strange path that had led to Gabriel becoming the trio’s friend. When God’s Champion had first seen Kaarl, the boy had still been working for Perdition and was a clear threat. Gabriel had wanted to destroy him but the Council had forbidden it; Kaarl was in essence still a child and had broken no laws. Once cooler heads had prevailed and Kaarl had defected, Gabriel had been assigned to protect him. It was a great honour and a testament to his skill that the Lord had chosen Gabriel to stand alone against the forces of Hell on Earth. It was also infuriating as Gabriel had dedicated himself to the eradication of Lucifer and his minions. Becoming a bodyguard to one of them had been an embarrassment.

As Kaarl, and later the twins, had worked tirelessly to turn their entertainment giant around and halt the flow of souls to Perdition Gabriel had gained a small measure of respect for them. He had watched Kaarl grow from a smart but naïve young Demon into an active and valuable participant in the Lord’s plan. After the guts he had displayed in the showdown with Damon, Kaarl’s past had become a non-issue. Although he would never admit it, Gabriel saw more than a little of himself in the boy. Verin and Vetis were irritating for the most part but they had done their fair share of work and were on the same side. Allowances could be made.

‘You’re on the dinner run, Gabriel,’ said Verin. ‘Seeing as you cleaned us out. That Thai place on the corner, same order as last time. You know where the money is.’

God’s Champion grumbled as he paused the movie and separated himself from the sofa. It was fair but that didn’t mean he had to like it. As Gabriel left on his errand, Kaarl returned with the trio’s laptops and began setting them up.

‘It’s all going to be the same as it was yesterday,’ said Verin as she slumped into a seat. ‘We should have left idiots to run the company so we had something to do.’

“Jenna’s” email inbox was flooded and Verin was certain her voicemail would be similarly bulging. It was a constant yawn fest of the “we’re going to do this unless you say otherwise and everything else is running smoothly” variety.

‘We have got something to do,’ replied Kaarl. ‘We’re double-checking to make sure they’re making the right moves, taking Synergy where we want it to go.’

Vetis rested her head on one hand and stabbed half-heartedly at her keyboard with the other.

‘Work up there, work down here then sleep. Rinse and repeat.’

‘It might not be all bad,’ said Kaarl. He spun his laptop around so the twins could read his screen.

‘A charity fundraiser,’ said Vetis, looking down. ‘So what?’

‘Attending things like this is a part of our responsibilities here. I could talk to Sophie about letting us go to a few more of them.’

The twins’ faces lit up at the suggestion.

‘Do you think she’d go for it?’ asked Vetis.

‘I do. It would be pretty suspicious if we just went missing for three years, no contact beyond email and phone. It makes sense that we need to be seen out and about on occasion.’

‘This calls for a drink.’ said Verin, pushing herself away from the table. ‘You’d have thought being traitors and having all of Perdition out for our blood would be a bit more exciting. Instead here I am, celebrating because we might have the chance to go out once in awhile.’

‘It’s sad,’ said Vetis. ‘If I had to watch a movie about my life right now I’d shoot myself in the face out of sheer boredom.’

‘Maybe you’ve forgotten what all that was like,’ replied Kaarl. ‘Worrying about Nergal every second of the day, wondering what Lucifer would do to us if we were caught. You two were hostages at one point and Damon had a gun in my face and his finger on the trigger. I’ll take boredom any day.’

‘You have to admit though,’ said Vetis. ‘A little bit of danger would spice things up.’

‘There’s no such thing as a little bit of danger when Lucifer is involved,’ replied Kaarl.

Chapter Five: An indecent proposal

The Demon-Lords filed down the stone steps and into the bowels of Soul Reaper tower. The time for Perdition’s next move in the Game of Souls had arrived. The basement levels were normally off-limits to everyone but the Light Bearer and all manner of rumours had sprung up about their purpose. Some said Lucifer kept his wives there; others claimed it was where his enemies waited to be put out of their misery. Mastema had always imagined a cross between a harem, a bar and a games room; somewhere Lucifer could escape from the burden of leadership for a few hours and get a little “me time” with his concubines and a few cocktails.

As Mastema’s eyes adjusted to darkness the chamber began to come into focus. The more he saw, the more the mystery and intrigue of the place began to slip away. No scantily clad women, no billiards tables or bar; just mould-encrusted stone walls and empty space.

‘It’s just a basement,’ said Mastema, holding a scented handkerchief to his face. ‘A dark, dank, smelly basement.’

‘From here the Fallen will strike a crippling blow against the Hated One,’ said Asmodeus. The Demon of Wrath took a deep breath and surveyed the chamber. ‘This is the place where the fall of Paradise begins.’

‘No,’ replied Mastema. ‘This is the place you rent to people that are down hard on their luck and that you don’t like very much. Immigrant families with tiny children, vegans and poor people; that sort of thing.’

A bright light burst in front of the Demon-Lords, sweeping away the darkness. They held their hands in front of their faces as their eyes fought to accommodate for the sudden change. When Mastema had recovered he dropped his arm. Through the bright spots that still danced across his vision he saw Persephone, glowing and smiling.

Bitch.

‘Welcome,’ said Lucifer, in the half-shout, half-whisper he used when he was feeling theatrical. ‘Welcome to the beginning of the end.’

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse stood behind the Light Bearer and his daughter. Mastema cheered and applauded along with his fellow Lords. He had to admit that the Horsemen looked impressive.

War was a giant encased in rusted red plate metal. Spikes covered his armour and skulls had been skewered onto them. Pieces of rotting flesh were still clinging to some of the remains. Famine’s face was hidden in the recesses of his hood. A flowing grey robe covered all but his skeletal fingers and a pair of balances rested on his shoulders. Pestilence was a decaying, bloated corpse. His skin was taut from trying to contain the mass of lard underneath and it glistened from the puss that covered it. With his sickly green eyes, long filthy finger nails and lack of clothing he was by far the most disturbing to look at of the four. Death was pale, and white-haired. The skin of his lower right jaw was missing and his mouth had been sown shut with thick, black stitches. Despite the exposed teeth and tendons the Horseman was still handsome, impossibly so. Mastema was instantly jealous but took some small comfort in the fact that he was better dressed than the Horseman. Hugo Boss trumped heavy plate everywhere but the battlefields of medieval Europe and renaissance fairs.

‘This is your first and last chance to see the Horsemen,’ Lucifer continued once the clapping had subsided. ‘These brave…things and my daughter will carry the torch of Perdition into the Mortal realm. With any luck they’ll burn the place down and scatter the ashes to the wind.’

‘Luck is not a factor,’ said War. His sonorous voice caused the visor of his helm to rattle. ‘You will get what you paid for, Light Bearer.’

‘Love it,’ replied Lucifer, giving War the gun-finger and a wink. ‘Love you, love the confidence. I have a really good feeling about all of this.’

The Light Bearer put a massive arm around his daughter’s shoulder.

‘And here’s the final little piece of the puzzle,’ he said, dropping a necklace and pendant into Persephone’s hand. ‘Your key to Heaven.’

Persephone looked at the jewellery and grinned. Nergal had taken it from the trio’s penthouse after the twins had been kidnapped by her brother. The Lord’s Tear kept its wearer hidden from Demons and it would be essential to her story’s credibility.

‘I won’t let you down, Father,’ she said.

‘I know you won’t, sweetheart,’ replied Lucifer.

He smiled and patted Persephone gently on her head.

‘On the off-chance that you do though, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands and burn what’s left. No pressure though, the main thing is to just go out there and have fun.’

With a wave of the Light Bearer’s arms Persephone and the Horsemen faded from Perdition.

***

Persephone’s first feeling in the Mortal realm was searing pain. The runes under her skin pulsed with Demonic energy and she collapsed to her knees. With her first ragged breath she realised the Mortal realm stank. Wet dirt, vegetation and pesticides accounted for most of the stench but they were all unfamiliar to the Demonette’s senses. Underneath the immediate odour was the one Demons always complained about: Humanity. The Damned smelt bad enough but in the Mortals’ own realm the reek was pervasive. It hung in the air, even if no Humans were close by, like a thick cloud of filth, shame and sweat.

Persephone struggled to her feet, fighting past the blinding agony that ripped through her body. She wanted to scream but that was conduct unbecoming of the Princess of Perdition so she held it back.

One day Uphir and everyone else will pay tenfold for this, she thought. Father most of all.

The fantasy of that day of vengeance bolstered her resolve and Persephone finally managed to stand up straight. The blackness of the night sky was an impressive first sight. It almost made up for the smell. Had there not been stars to ruin the effect Persephone would have considered it perfect. Her father enjoyed fire; it was why he had chosen to light his realm with an entire sky of it. Persephone had always preferred the darkness that came after everything had burnt.

She had chosen a raven-haired, doe-eyed form for her work on Earth. Gorgeous enough to pull off either demure or wanton with equal ease, she had pieced the vessel together from images she had found on the Internet. It was her perfect answer to any number of situations that could occur in the Mortal realm. From everything she had gleaned on Kaarl he would prefer a shy beauty but the ability to raise pulses and diminish the capacity for higher thought in males was a necessary tool as well.

As the pain subsided a little and her vision cleared, the semi-blurred forms of the Horsemen began to take definition. A tall, buxom redhead in a tightly-clinging crimson dress was making her way towards Lucifer’s daughter.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ the woman said, adjusting her hemline as she approached. ‘But I wanted to try something a little different.’

Her face was striking with dark green eyes. The putrid tang that emanated from her mouth made it clear that Pestilence had decided to take up cross-dressing on his first ever foray into the Mortal realm. Compared to his breath the stench of Humanity was nothing.

‘Might be a bit of fun too,’ the Horseman added with a wink.

Persephone could tell that the seven-and-a-half-foot tall slab of muscle with the rakish blond hair and surly demeanour was War. The emaciated and lanky form of Famine looked ridiculous standing next to him. Death stood a little away from his brothers and was a cut above them all.

Gone were the pale complexion, black stitching and delicate features of his true form. Now tall, well-built and dark skinned, Death had taken his inherent and ethereal beauty and somehow grafted it directly onto a Mortal form that bore no resemblance to the creature Persephone had first met in her father’s dungeons. Even by her famously high standards the results of the transformation were breath-taking.

‘So why have you brought us here?’ asked Pestilence in his sultry, feminine voice. He glanced around at the seemingly endless rows of crops. ‘And where is “here” while we’re on the subject?’

Persephone took a few steps back from him to avoid concentrated blasts of his breath.

‘We are near a place called Storm Lake in the United States of America,’ she told the Horsemen. Persephone walked to one of the tall plants and ripped an ear off of it. She tossed it to Pestilence.

‘That is called maize, or corn or whatever. I don’t really care. Almost half of the world’s supply comes from this country. I want none of it to.’

The Horseman sniffed at the maize.

‘They have changed this,’ he said after a few moments.

‘They spray it to keep insects and pests away,’ replied Persephone.

‘No, not just that; the very essence of this plant has been changed. My usual methods will not work on this.’

Persephone scowled at Pestilence.

‘So, we are a few minutes into our mission and already you are of no use to me?’

Pestilence tilted his head, brushed a stray strand of his fiery-red hair out of the way and studied the plant.

‘It will just take a little time.’

War stepped forward. His voice had kept the same bone-shaking tenor as in his true form.

‘We should visit an alehouse while our brother solves this problem.’

‘No we shouldn’t,’ replied Lucifer’s daughter. ‘This is not a holiday. You will do the job my father paid you to do.’

War marched over and stood in front of Persephone. She stared back undaunted, even though the Horseman towered above her.

‘We will do the job because we have promised as much, girl. You will not, however, tell us how to approach every minute detail. We know what you want and how you want to achieve it. This we shall deliver. We will not stand in the middle of a field waiting though when the thing you want can be accomplished somewhere with ale.’

Persephone held her ground and kept her eyes locked with War’s. After a few minutes it was obvious the Horseman would not relent. The only way forward seemed to be compromise. Persephone hated that word with a passion.

‘Fine,’ she replied, her voice dripping with contempt. ‘I don’t even know where the nearest bar is so we are in for a hunt and probably a long walk. If that’s what you want then so be it.’

‘It will not be a problem,’ replied War.

He nodded to his brothers and the Horsemen crowded around Death, Pestilence still clutching the maize. Persephone followed suit and smoke-like tendrils began to seep from Death as a shroud enveloped the group. Everything outside of it took on a greyish hue.

With nothing more than a quick lurch in Persephone’s stomach the scenery changed. The fields had been replaced with a parking lot and a wooden building with neon signage stood in front of the group. Death waited until a patron had staggered into the bar before dropping the shroud.

‘Where is this?’ asked Persephone.

‘An alehouse on the outskirts of the town,’ replied War.

‘They are called “bars” or “clubs”. This is the former. And don’t ask for ale in there, you’ll look like an idiot. It’s beer.’ Persephone looked back at Death. ‘How did he do that?’

‘Death finds everyone sooner or later,’ replied Famine. His voice was a sickly as his physique. ‘Hence Death knows all places.’

She studied the Horseman with a new appreciation for his powers.

‘That little trick will come in handy.’

Death tapped War on the shoulder. He made a quick series of hand gestures when he had his brother’s attention.

‘He said he feels “less”.’ said War in translation. ‘We are not supposed to be in this realm at this time. Our power comes from the souls your father sacrificed and it seems using them has a price.’

‘Great,’ replied Persephone. ‘Now you guys have a battery life as well.’

She wrote off War’s look of puzzlement with a wave.

‘Never mind, let’s just get this over with.’

Every eye in the bar was immediately drawn to the Horsemen as they entered. Not only were Persephone and Pestilence the most attractive women in the place but they were accompanied by a ridiculously mismatched trio of men. Though not exactly busy the bar was doing a brisk trade. Being closer to the farming community than the town, it had a distinctly rustic feel. Lucifer’s daughter took a seat at the bar with Pestilence as War waited to be served. While the Horseman was busy examining the plant, one of the locals sidled up beside the “women”. In his best chequered shirt and least greasy John Deere cap, Clint McGregor was on the hunt for love.

‘Is that your boyfriend?’ he said, grinning and nodding down at the maize. ‘Name’s Clint by the way. Can I get you ladies a drink?’

Persephone ignored the man while Pestilence looked up and studied Clint with an air of indifference.

‘Go away,’ he said, before turning his attention back to the maize.

Clint suppressed a gag.

‘Damn, you could kill a bull with that breath. Ah well, can’t have it all I guess. Looking as pretty as that you can probably get away with not brushing your teeth. It’s just one drink, miss, no harm.’

Persephone snapped her finger’s to get Death’s attention. She pointed at him, then at Clint. War would have been the better choice to shoo away the Mortal but he was waiting for the drinks to be poured. Persephone hoped an angry glare from the mute would suffice; Pestilence had work to do.

Clint looked up as Death approached.

‘Go away, Denzel.’ he said ‘Unless she’s your wife this doesn’t concern you, pretty boy.’

At almost the same time a commotion erupted further down the bar. The barmaid was screaming at War about paying for the beers.

Damn, I forgot about that, thought Persephone. Mortals use money.

While War was drinking his beer and ignoring the torrent of abuse, Death walked up to Clint. The Mortal stood his ground and smiled at him, drawing his thumb across his throat. When Death returned the gesture Clint’s lifeless body crashed to the floor. A few people who had been watching the exchange gasped while Persephone shook her head and sighed.

‘That does it.’ she said to the Horsemen, slapping a hand down on the counter. She made a broad, sweeping gesture with the other. ‘You might as well just kill them all now they’ve seen that.’

While Pestilence studied the problem at hand his brothers began ripping into the patrons and staff. War started with the barmaid. Using his fist like a hammer, all complaints about non-payment for drinks were brought to a fast and fatal conclusion. He turned his attention to the surrounding Mortals, bludgeoning anyone unlucky enough to be within range. With Death, a mere nod in the direction of his intended target was enough to get the job done. After the first few he got bored, opting instead to kill them by pointing in time to the music. Famine was stick-thin but still capable of hitting with tremendous force. Persephone was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the scrappy little Horseman could turn a human head into a messy unrecognisable pulp.

Even through the terrified screams of Mortals in their final moments the jukebox was still audible. Although she had never heard the song before, the irony of watching Famine rip into a man’s ribcage during the chorus of “Achy Breaky Heart” was not lost on Persephone. She smiled and tapped her foot in time to the song as the Horsemen finished their work.

In less than two minutes the half-full bar had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Death’s victims were easy enough to recognise amidst the carnage; they were the intact ones whose faces didn’t resemble a thick, flesh-coloured paste.

‘Empty their pockets,’ said Persephone. She walked to the nearest corpse, pulled out its wallet and held up a twenty dollar bill. ‘We want these pieces of paper.’

She ordered War to wait outside and watch for other Mortals while the remaining Horsemen collected up the spoils of victory. Once Death had relieved all the bodies in his area of their valuables he made his way to the cash registers behind the bar. His resourcefulness and foresight had begun to impress Persephone, which was not an easy thing to do. The fact that he was also incredibly easy on the eyes and a mute almost made him the perfect man.

‘Is this what that tavern wench was screaming about?’ asked Famine as he handed over his takings. ‘Bet she feels silly now.’

‘Yes,’ said Persephone. ‘It is quite stupid but this realm runs on these scraps of paper.’

Pestilence was about to join the conversation when Persephone held up her hand.

‘Cover your mouth before you speak.’

‘I was going to say I have figured it out; the maize problem.’

The hand made little difference. His foul breath escaped out from either side of it and headed straight for Persephone’s nostrils.

‘Good,’ replied Persephone, her eyes watering. ‘Let’s finish up here and get started with the real work.’

She led the Horsemen back out into the night to join their brother.

‘No one came,’ said War.

‘Pretty obvious from lack of screaming and battered corpses,’ Persephone replied. ‘Let’s go back to that field.’

‘No need,’ said Pestilence. He held his hand under his lips as if blowing a kiss and a thick green cloud spewed forth and raced off into the darkness.

‘It’s a fungus,’ he said with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Their crops are designed to resist most of them it seems but not one like this. They are as good as gone.’

‘We need it to spread across a very large area,’ replied Persephone, ‘and fast. We’re on a timetable. I want to wipe everything out in this part of the country and move on as quickly as possible.’

She looked at Death but he was busy making hand signals at War. It went on for a full minute before he pointed at a car, down the road outside the parking lot and then stopped. Persephone waited but no translation was forthcoming.

‘And that means…’

‘It means he wants to save his energy,’ replied War. ‘You will need us to jump continents soon and that will be an intensive drain on his reserves. He is not willing to compromise his strength when it might be needed later on.’

‘It took him all that time and hand waving to say that?’

‘No, he said other things but they do not concern you, girl.’

Persephone fought down the urge to slap the Horseman.

‘Well, what about the pointing?’ she asked instead.

‘Ah, that concerns all of us. Apparently our best bet for covering such a large area, whilst still allowing Pestilence to spread his spores, would be to use one of the Mortals’ vehicles. He said if you can drive we can take one of these things. If not, the nearest bus terminal is seventeen miles that way and we’d better start walking.’

Persephone kicked the side of the car, caving its door in and shunting it across the gravel.

‘I guess that means we’re walking,’ said Famine. ‘And what’s a bus?’

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