4
Amanda wrapped herself in a wooly blanket and ventured down the stairs to the front door of the apartment building. Snow whipped across the rooftops in sprays of blazing white, and the cold outside cut through her thin pajama pants.
In the middle of all the winter, an oily black obelisk – the size of a phone booth – rose out of the front lawn. The snow was melting in a wide circle around it, exposing the brown grass underneath. A wrapped bouquet sat at its foot.
Narrowing her eyes, Amanda slowly rounded the rock. She gasped. Carved into the side of the obelisk, the face of a horned skull glared at her. It reminded her a bit of Han Solo frozen in carbonite, only much more sinister.
Frowning, she reached for the bouquet and unwrapped it, immediately dropping it to the ground again. Eyes wide, she watched as golden flames licked the clusters of pink flowers that dotted the emerald leaves, without consuming them. A letter fell out and landed in the snow.
Dear Amanda,
These are the Flowers of Adonai, handpicked from God’s burning bush. I hope you like the color – they only come in pink.
In case you’re wondering about the monument; it is a replica of you without the skin and flesh. I added the horns because… well, I think you’d look adorable in horns.
You always say that beauty is on the inside, and I couldn’t agree more. Not that you’re not beautiful on the outside too!
I hope you can forgive me and that I hear from you soon.
Yours truly,
Marc
Amanda bit her lip and looked at the flowers again. They didn’t burn her when she prodded them with her finger. They were a nice gesture. The obelisk on the other hand. She sighed. Marc had always had an annoying sense of humor. He’d tease and joke with her, but she’d always believed he had a big heart – at least until she learned he was a demon. And if nothing else, the obelisk would probably scare off any door-to-door salesmen and Jehovah’s Witnesses.
She plodded back inside and called Sarah.
***
Roaring fireplaces and lava lamps lit up Marc’s strategy room. The King of Hell rounded the table crisscrossed by orange rivers and dotted by miniature volcanos. Smaller still were the baby-imps that nervously represented the legions of Hell.
“Well, well,” Marc said, glancing at the empty chairs. “Hard times really do reveal who your true friends are.”
“Alliances shift like the streams of Styx…” Asmodeus rumbled, his eye-clusters unblinking and his scaled limbs twisting. “And sometimes they spread their legs like any common harlot…”
“Listen, you big ball of anatomical incorrectness,” Lilith said and rose out of her seat, her leathery wings flapping behind her and her black eyes gleaming with malevolence. “I only do what’s best for me and my sisters, and right now that’s siding with Marcellixis. Also, it’s good that you’re paying attention...”
She snapped her finger on the nose of Asmodeus’s goat head, waking it from its snoring slumber. Marc paced back and forth, ignoring the quibbles of his advisors. He had more important things on his mind – things that required a lot of planning – how to put Lucifer back in the cage and how to win Amanda’s heart, for example.
“What if we march our Noonday Demons right up to Mammon’s gates – he’s weak, and we’ll gain control of the Groaning Grounds,” Baphomet said, fires crackling with every word. “What if we–”
The massive demon was interrupted by the doors to the chamber swinging open. A single corrupted cherub hovered in the air, quietly giggling and drooling in mania.
“Letter for the king,” it sang, and surged forward like a hummingbird.
All the demons in the room sighed except Marc, who rushed up to the tiny winged creature and snatched the letter out of its chubby fingers.
Dear Marc,
I’ve decided to give you a second chance. Not because of the gifts, but for old times’ sake. We’ve been friends for years, and I’m curious to see what could blossom from it.
This isn’t me promising anything, by the way, it’s just an invitation to go bowling with me. It’ll be a double date with a friend of mine and her boyfriend. I know you don’t like that kind of thing, but those are my terms!
See you tomorrow night at the bowling alley at the corner of 5th and Main.
Sincerely,
Amanda
“Sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” Marc said and strode toward the exit. “I have more important affairs to attend to.”
“More important than the war in Hell?” Baphomet grumbled.
“Of course! And besides, you’re all capable demons. You can handle things here for a couple of hours. Just… keep an eye on those.”
Marc pointed at Lilith’s legs, grinning. He heard her snorting as he walked out.