On A Pale Horse Part 25

"It's strange at first," Molly rea.s.sured him. "But you get used to it in a decade or so. Come on." She drew him toward the open TV set.

They stepped through together without difficulty, for animated souls were highly malleable. Zane did not feel at all thin or translucent, the way the souls he handled were; he seemed quite solid to himself. Now they stood in a kind of furnace room, with open fires burning in a ring around them, smoke billowing up to obscure whatever ceiling there was. The air was hot.

"Welcome to h.e.l.l, Death," Satan said, extending his hand. It was red with fine scales, and the fingernails were talons. Zane hesitated, but then went ahead and accepted the hand. It was best to keep this as polite as possible.

The hand was hot, but not burning. "No place like the present," the Prince of Evil said briskly. His head, too, was more p.r.o.nounced from this close vantage. His horns were larger and brighter than they had seemed before; canine teeth gleamed before his thin lips, and his hair resembled a ripple of flame. "These cursed souls tend the central heating plant of h.e.l.l, performing useful labor while expiating their burdens of sin."

Zane looked at the people. Some had shovels that they used to put coal on the fires. The heat where they worked was terrible, but they wore asbestos ap.r.o.ns to s.h.i.+eld their bodies from the worst of it. Zane knew they were souls with very little physical substance, but since he was in soul form himself at the moment, they seemed substantial. "What is the point?" he asked. "I realize h.e.l.l has to be heated, but you could set up an automatic conveyor belt for the coal "

"These are the souls of people who abused their status in life," Satan explained. "They had responsible positions in industry, overseeing the heating plants of manufacturing companies, apartment buildings, and such. Instead of striving for efficiency and comfort for their clients, they exploited them, refusing to modernize, though they knew people suffered as a result. Now they expiate that sin by laboring under the primitive conditions they forced on others."

Zane studied the laborers. His apartment on Earth, before he became Death, had been intermittently cold in winter because, he suspected, the landlord was fattening his profit margin by skimping on heating fuel. Zane could appreciate Satan's rationale. "How do they expiate their sin?" he asked. "Do they have to shovel a certain number of tons of coal, or what? How long does it take, and what happens to them when they've paid their debt?"

"Excellent questions!" Satan said, glowing with more than human animation. "The term of penance varies with the individual. Roughly, each soul must labor until it has suffered the same amount as it inflicted on others during its life. That can take time; and, of course, some souls are incorrigible. It is not merely the labor, but the att.i.tude, that counts; the soul must sincerely repent its prior evil. Eventually each soul will be purified by suffering, and will at last qualify for release to Heaven."

"So souls aren't condemned to h.e.l.l for Eternity?" Zane asked, surprised.

Satan issued his pleasant laugh again. "Of course not! h.e.l.l is merely the ultimate reform inst.i.tution, where the cases too difficult for Purgatory are handled. A truly evil or indifferent person can not be cured by gentleness. Here in h.e.l.l we have the mechanisms to straighten out even the most crooked souls. I a.s.sure you, by the time any soul qualifies for Heaven, it has become quite gentle. I am a perfectionist; I will free no soul before its time." And Satan's countenance a.s.sumed an infernally n.o.ble aspect. Zane remembered that Satan was reputed to be a fallen angel; maybe some angelic element remained in him.

"But what about the bureaucratic errors?" Zane asked.

"Honest mistakes are possible."

"No. Not when I'm in charge. I can guarantee absolutely that not one defective soul has been sent from h.e.l.l to Heaven."

Molly had been poking around by herself. Now she returned to Zane. "I don't know any of these folk. Let's take a look at the Ireland section."

But already Satan was showing the way to another region. He opened a door in air, and they stepped through to a foggy, gloomy region crowded with people garbed in rags. Men, women, and children of every race plodded along a barren plain. Each was gaunt, and some were emaciated. All stared unwaveringly at the ground.

"These are the wasteful," Satan explained. "They threw out good food unused, knowing that others in the world were starving. Now they are hungry themselves. They squandered money; now they have only what they can find lying in the street, the refuse of others. They destroyed good clothing in the name of frivolous fas.h.i.+on; now they have only bad clothing, which they value more than all the garments of life. They must save in death as much as they wasted in life and their resources are meager here."

Again Zane was impressed. He had once approached a paper towel dispenser in a nonmagic public lavatory he had distrusted magic sanitary facilities, as some used the refuse to fas.h.i.+on voodoo dolls, and that could be a literal pain in the posterior only to see the man ahead of him s.n.a.t.c.h the last three sheets and throw them away almost unused. He had been furious at that callous anonymous waster, but had not spoken up because the man had been large and aggressive. Now Zane felt a kind of vindication. Such people certainly needed to be punished!

"You see. h.e.l.l performs a necessary service," Satan said smoothly. "We would not want wasteful louts littering Heaven."

"I don't know anybody here, either," Molly muttered. "I think this is a showcase section, not the real inferno."

"Why don't you go seek out someone you do know?" Satan suggested. "I had understood you were along to guide Death, but if you insist on mixing in your personal business "

"Let's go next to the Irish showcase," the ghost said rebelliously.

"I have many more enlightened sets," Satan said. "There is little point in subjecting ourselves to the abuse of the unmitigated tempers of Ireland."

"Oh, is that so!" Molly exclaimed, showing her own unmitigated temper.

Satan glanced about as if seeing something invisible to the others. "For example. h.e.l.l's Kitchen." He opened a door on a huge room filled with fat chefs who were baking and cooking and mixing drinks. The odors of fresh foods were almost overpoweringly strong, making Zane hungry, though he had recently eaten.

"Try an aperitif," the Prince of Evil said, lifting a sparkling gla.s.s from a tray an elegant waiter brought and proffering the drink to Zane.

"Don't touch it!" Molly cried. "Anyone who eats or drinks anything in h.e.l.l can never escape it!"

Satan's mouth stretched down in affected sadness. "I had thought such superst.i.tion was beneath you, fishwife. I have no need to trap people in h.e.l.l! They come to Me because their souls are burdened with sin."

"What about Persephone and the six pomegranate seeds?" Molly demanded.

"I will thank you to leave My private life out of this!" Satan snapped, and small sparks radiated from the tips of his horns. "She wanted to stay; the seeds were merely a pretext to satisfy her image for her domineering mother."

"Then what's all this fancy food for?" Molly asked, showing her Irish stubbornness. "You never feed it to any of my friends who are imprisoned here, I'm sure! I've visited here before, you know."

"You have visited limited regions before, snippit," Satan told her. "You have not seen the complete h.e.l.l or comprehended any part of its purpose."

"That's my complaint!" she said. "You're hiding something, Foul Fiend! You refuse to tell what the food is for."

Curls of smoke rose from Satan's reddening hide. "For the cadre, of course, s.l.u.t! They receive privileged treatment. The finest gourmet food, beverages, entertainment " He gestured, and a chorus line appeared: shapely nude girls kicking their legs in unison. "I would be happy to provide this service for you in Purgatory, Death; My cooks and girls are able to go that far."

"I already have a staff at the Deathmansion," Zane said.

"Ah, but not a staff like this! You have never experienced the delicacies these cooks generate; not Bacchus himself ever feasted like this. And My personal tailor will create for you a suit that Solomon in all his evanescent glory could not match. And for your nocturnal entertainment, the Queen of Love and s.e.x, Isis herself, shall attend"

"The Old Serpent proffers a bribe!" Molly snapped. "Who needs Isis, that slattern, when he has a woman like Luna?"

That brought Zane forcefully back to reality. He had been somewhat dazzled by the movements of the dancing girls, but of course Luna was all he desired. How fortunate that Molly was along!

"True," Satan said mildly, though the heat of his body now clothed him in steam. "Still, there are other forms of entertainment for the discriminating person. h.e.l.l has the finest library of Eternity, completely unexpurgated. Many of its collected works have been written after the authors' deaths and are available only in the Infernal Literary Annex. The same for paintings and music here, listen to Chopin's latest on the piano."

Beautiful piano music flooded the chamber, its exquisite touch lifting Zane's spirit.

"Come down from there," Molly said, catching Zane's leg.

Startled, he looked down. He was floating toward the ceiling! Since he was currently in spirit form, with no material body to weight him down, he had been literally lifted by the lovely music.

"Why offer me this?" Zane asked as his feet returned to the floor. "I'm only here to hear your presentation."

"Merely a gesture of amity," Satan said. "I happen to enjoy doing things for My friends."

"Death is no friend of yours. Old Nick!" Molly said. Again Satan smiled; it seemed to be his protective reaction. "Death is a business a.s.sociate, of course. That is no reason for negative relations."

"I want to see the Ireland section," Molly insisted. Zane sighed. He could appreciate Satan's irritation with this single mindedness. "We'd better go there, Lucifer." The Devil seemed like a sensible fellow, but there was no sense getting Molly upset. "We can check in on her friends, then see the rest of h.e.l.l." He had not changed his mind about Luna, but realized it would be nice if he could in some fas.h.i.+on accommodate Satan's worthy purpose.

"Naturally," Satan said with deific grace. He opened a new door in air, and they stepped through to an Irish city slum.

It was chill, cruel winter. Snow swirled in the air, and dirty slush coated the filthy street. Peasants dressed heavy outdoor garb were cleaning rubbish and fish heads from the gutters, using inadequate shovels and brooms.

"These were litterers," Satan said. "Now they labor all year round to recover as much litter as they strewed in life, and to make the street as clean as it was before they desecrated it. Unfortunately, the litter keeps reappearing."

Molly snooped around, looking for her friends. This time she found one. "Sean!" she cried. "I haven't seen you in a hundred years!"

The man paused in his labor. "Sweet Molly Malone! When did you die? I never thought I'd see you here! You don't look a lifetime older!"

"That's because I died early of a fever and took my youth and beauty with me to the grave."

The old man gazed at her appreciatively. "Sure an' you did that, girl! You were just a little bit of a thing, prettiest waif on the street. I thought sure you'd be a grandmother by the time you were sixteen."

Molly smiled. "I tried, but life ended too soon. I thought my soul would be d.a.m.ned to h.e.l.l, after what that honey tongued man did to me "

"Not your soul, dear child! You were the petunia in the onion patch, sure, always ready with a favor to them worse off'n you. Sure an' it's a shame you died before your time."

"How are they treating you, Sean?" she inquired. "Well, it's not fun, as you can see. We clean and clean, but the mess never ends, and at times like this it's so cold "

"Haven't you expiated your burden of sin yet? After all, you've been in h.e.l.l longer than you lived on Earth, Sean, and you were never a really bad man, just a litterer."

Sean scratched his head. "I don't know, la.s.s. They keep the accounts, and somehow I never seem to gain. I must have a really incorrigible nature."

"Here, your glove is torn," Molly said solicitously. "Let me fix it." She reached for the man's hand.

"Oh, no, that's all right, miss," he said quickly, s.n.a.t.c.hing his hand away. "I'll get by. I've got to get back to work anyway." He resumed shoveling ineffectively at the slush.

"If you're sure " Molly said, concerned. "As you can see," Satan said with another smile, "we are tough but fair, here in h.e.l.l. People who refuse to reform in life are hard to reform in death, but persistence and consistency eventually pay off."

"Yes, I can see that," Zane agreed. "It certainly seems reasonable "

He was interrupted, for Molly had stumbled and collided with him, shoving him into one of the Irish workers. Her ghost form was completely solid to his spirit form. Zane's hand slapped bare flesh before he recovered his balance. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, apologizing to the man he had struck. "I lost my footing "

"The guttersnipe was the clumsy one," Satan muttered. "It's all right," the man said gruffly, drawing his patched overcoat around him more tightly. "Just clear out and let me work."

Satan opened a new door in air, and they stepped through to a comfortably furnished living room suite. "So you see, there is no point in disrupting the system," he said.

"I agree," Zane said. "Yet I also don't see why I should take Luna out of turn. I think I'm on the fence about this."

"By all means," Satan said readily. "I am sure when you consider all aspects, you will see it My way." He opened still another door, and Zane and Molly stepped through to Zane's own Deathhouse living room. The door swung closed behind them, becoming the television screen.

Zane walked to his still body, positioned himself, and carefully sat down in his own lap. He sank into his flesh, reuniting with his host. In a moment he opened his eyes, solid again. It was a relief!

"I will send My minions to see to your comforts. Death," Satan said from the screen. Then he winked out, and the regular news program returned.

PARADOX PLOY.

Molly sat down in Zane's lap, put her arms about his shoulders, and touched her lips to his right ear. This close, she smelled slightly of sh.e.l.lfish and she weighed nothing at all.

"Hey, that's not necessary," Zane protested, embarra.s.sed and perplexed.

"But I must thank you for taking me on your trip to h.e.l.l," she said. "I got to meet an old friend."

Zane submitted to her embrace. After all, what could a ghost do to his solid form? "Glad to do it, Molly. Now you can return to "

Her substanceless lips brushed his ear like a faint breeze. "Death I must tell you before Satan takes over this house," she whispered urgently.

"What?"

"No, no don't react. Just smile and look relaxed. Satan is watching. He'll let me caress you, because he wants you to a.s.sume an interest in any woman other than Luna. Here, I'll make myself more solid so you can feel my flesh." And now she had weight, pressing down on his lap. "You took me along as guide, and now I will guide you. Trust me. Death it's important."

Zane, astonished by this abrupt s.h.i.+ft of character, smiled and forced himself to relax, physically. The truth was, Molly was one fine looking spirit, and it was not hard to tolerate her proximity, though he felt slightly guilty that she wasn't Luna.

"When I touched Sean's hand, there was no glove," Molly whispered, nibbling at his ear.

Zane started to speak, but she touched his lips with a forefinger. "Those people in h.e.l.l aren't wearing anything," she continued. "They are naked in the snow. They aren't being punished they're being tortured."

Now Zane tried to protest, but again she hushed him, simultaneously opening her blouse to expose more of her fine bosom, as if seducing him. Indeed, the perfume of the sea was about her, making him think of a vacation at volcanic isles in the great Pacific Ocean. "Death, believe me! I suspected it before, but was never allowed to touch my friends in h.e.l.l, or even to get close to them. Satan's minions were always watching. This time I touched Sean and now I know. That's why I pushed you into him. His clothing was illusion, wasn't it?"

Startled, Zane recalled how his hand had slapped bare flesh, though the man had seemed to be fully clothed. The notion of souls wearing illusory clothing was odd, but in the context of h.e.l.l, it made grim sense. "Yes "

Molly let her skirt slide away to expose more of her thighs, then opened her blouse another notch. Zane understood why Sean had thought she would be a grandmother at age sixteen; she had died at that age, but had a body that suggested prompt male action. Maidens bloomed early and well in Ireland! "So now you know, too. Death. The Father of Lies is lying to you. He's not reforming souls at all. He's keeping them forever in vile bondage. He'll never let them go. And you can't trust his word on anything."

The implication was stunning. If Satan had lied about the nature of his proceedings in h.e.l.l itself, in what other context would he ever tell the truth? If he was not truly reforming souls, what was it that Luna, later in life, would stop him from doing? If h.e.l.l was no reformatory and Satan was in fact building an empire, then of course his reason for eliminating Luna was suspect. Under no circ.u.mstances should Death cooperate with the Prince of Evil!

"Thanks, Molly," he said. "You have served your office well. I shall remember."

"Get out of here immediately," she said. "Get to Mortis, who can better protect you. I know how Satan operates; his minions are at this moment moving to take over this mansion, to make quite sure you go his way."

"Agreed." Zane stood up, and she slid to her own feet, becoming weightless again. He strode toward the door.

A huge man in a chef's hat met him at the portal. "Your repast is ready, sir."

This was not his regular cook. "I will return for it in due course," Zane said, attempting to squeeze by him. The chef put a ma.s.sive and calloused hand on Zane's shoulder. "But it is ready now, sir."

Molly remained insubstantial here in Purgatory, except when she concentrated, but this man was as solid as a side of beef. Zane squirmed out from beneath the punis.h.i.+ng grip. "Not now, thanks."

"I am sure you will reconsider, sir," the brute chef said, his hand dropping to Zane's forearm.

Angry and somewhat alarmed, Zane turned his gaze directly on the man's face. He knew the other saw the death's head, for he remained in uniform. "Whom do you think you are touching?" he demanded grimly.

The big man blanched, as most people did when confronted by the Deathmask, but stood his ground. "I am already dead. There is no harm you can do me."

Then why had he blanched? Zane lifted his right hand. The gems on his wrist glowed. His fingers caught the man under the chin and lifted him up. The man lifted readily, becoming cellophane thin; he was, in fact, a soul. Zane folded the soul in half, and then in quarters, and finally wadded it into a ball and hurled it downward through the floor toward h.e.l.l.

Then he paused, surprised. He hadn't known Death could do that! But it was obvious, in retrospect, since Death routed souls to their spots in Eternity. When he took deliberate hold of a soul, it moved as he willed it to.

"That was pretty," Molly murmured. Zane had forgotten her presence. "Maybe you had better get out of here, too," he suggested. "Satan's minions could probably manhandle you."

"It's very hard to hold a ghost against her will," she said, and faded from view.