The next morning, Gaap checked-in on his pet project. Dantalion’s Water would be hosting their musical ceremony the following night. All Gaap had to do was make sure Lucy kept her plans to join the boy and he will have honored his vow to Sabnock. Reputation was vital in Hell. If he ever hoped to rise in the ranks again, Gaap could afford no enemies; not even relatively insignificant ones like Sabnock. He was not well-respected, but he was well-known, and a very loud complainer.
But it did not seem Gaap had much to worry about on that front. Lucy was clearly obsessed with General Dantalion’s human minions and believed Gaap had miraculously intervened to help her attend their ceremony. In truth, he didn’t know why the boy had chosen Lucy other than her wardrobe that advertised for the band almost daily. But Gaap also understood she held a deep animosity toward the boy. He saw a delicate balance between the forces pulling her toward him and those pushing her away. The internal rage fed him well, but he decided it was best to not push her wrath for the time being and merely observe.
The décor of Lucy’s mindscape was cycling through a series of scenery that echoed her tumultuous mood; sometimes dark, sometimes bright. For the next several hours, no matter what task was at hand, Lucy’s brain kept returning to Bulldog and his insufferable chauvinism. She beat herself up for not telling him off. She beat herself up for her own arousal and wondered if it had really just been excitement about the show. She still clung to the deep conviction that somehow the concert would invoke a supernatural revelation of what had happened to her stepsister. And maybe even reveal how to save her and bring her back.
As the day dragged on, Lucy’s thoughts became repetitive. Gaap was feeling rather proud of his work with the girl, and realized he wasn’t needed for now. She was on the hook. And it was well past time to check-in with Glasya-Labolas on this whole affair. Hell’s shaman had never failed to guide him to success.
Gaap left Lucy’s mind and slowly sank through the crust of the Earth. Deeper and deeper he sank until he started to feel that familiar but strange sucking feeling and popped onto the Threshold of Hell, coming face to face with Naberius, Hell’s porter, and one of Lucifer’s elite Praetorian Guard. Naberius manifested on the aetheric plane as a three-headed dog. His was one of the longest running positions in Hell as he was one of the few old gods who had survived Charlemagne’s reconstruction. He had originally been given his post by Solomon himself by virtue of his parallel incarnations as other porters of the underworld, Cerberus or Kerberos, Garm, Ammit, etc. When Solomon captured the 72 spirits in his brass vessel and reordered the aetheric plane, he had tried to mitigate upheaval as much as possible by putting the newly defined “demons” in roles with which they had been familiar in former divine existences.
“Greetings, Captain!” Gaap said cheerfully as he dutifully scratched each of Naberius’ heads.
“Hail, Lord Gaap. How fares Earth and it’s worms?”
“Oh, bitterly as always, Lord Naberius”.
Naberius sorrowfully shook his third head, yanking on the great studded silver collar around his neck that was chained to the blackened wall. Most all the surfaces in the aetheric manifestation of Hell were of a blackened coal that oozed lava and smoked and reeked of sulfur. Gaap knew well that the leash was part of Naberius' own manifestation and in no way truly encumbered him. Naberius was to be respected on severe risk of destruction.
“Life is forever wasted on the living, it seems.” Naberius was often sober and grim. And so it happened that during lunar rituals it was Naberius who often became the most inebriated and boisterous. But never beyond the ability to perform.
“Quite so, quite so.” And after a pause, “Greetings, Captain Naberius!” Gaap knew that Naberius liked to do the entrance ritual without interruption just to make sure he was properly performing his duties, so he would always start afresh after pleasantries.
“Greetings, Lord Gaap.”
“May I enter please, Captain Naberius?”
“You may, Lord Gaap.”
“Thank you, Captain Naberius.”
“You are quite welcome, Lord Gaap.”
Suddenly the portal to the Threshold popped open and Sabnock hopped between the two compatriots just as they finished the entrance ritual.
“Scrote! What the Hell are you doing in Hell? You’re supposed to be keeping that stupid worm obsessing on my mark!”
Gaap smothered a sigh, slightly annoyed that the jackass hadn’t already forgotten that infantile nickname. Sabnock started to enter after Gaap and received a bloodthirsty snarl from Naberius.
“Hey, hey! Down, boy! Can I come in, pup?”
“Go ahead, Sabnock. In your case, if you ever used proper etiquette, I’d know for sure you were an imposter.”
“Oh ho! Slime! How long have you been working on that cut, Fido?”
Naberius snapped at Sabnock, narrowly missing a piece of his hide as he slipped out of the Threshold with Gaap into Hell’s Main Hall.
He looked at Gaap questioningly.
Gaap was visibly confused.
“The worm?”
“Oh, the girl. I have the matter well in hand. I am, after all, a demon of my word.”
“I’m just busting your balls, Scrote. Don’t get tense!” Sabnock said in between fits of laughter.
“I’m quite calm, sir.”
With a suddenly dark and bullying tone, Sabnock asked, “Then why are you still avoiding my question?”
In fact, Gaap had already forgotten there was a question. Among the denizens of Hell, Gaap was widely considered a bit dim-witted for one of the 72, and he could see that Sabnock was well aware he’d forgotten and was prolonging the moment with no small amount of sadistic delight.
Sabnock poked a finger in Gaap’s chest, “Why are you here ‘Lord’ Gaap?”
“Oh! I am off to counsel with Glasya-Labolas.”
Infinitely amused, Sabnock broke character, rolling on the black floor and laughing hysterically. As his fit subsided, Sabnock wiped his eyes and looked up at Gaap. “Seriously? You really believe in that pocus pocus crap?”
“I believe the human phrase is ‘hocus pocus’. Regardless, it’s not so much a matter of belief as… well… focus. Analysis maybe? Glasya shows me what things I need to be thinking about in order to succeed. I am always a bit confused as to tactics before his consultations.”
Gaap stopped when he noticed Sabnock was mocking him, pretending to speak eruditely with overacted hand motions but uttering no sound.
“Well, somehow he always knows when I’m coming.”
“Ha, ha! He can see you through those stupid hippie beads on his door, dummy!” Sabnock chuckled as he clambered to his claw feet. Sabnock also wore a gargoyle glamour, though much thinner and a brighter red than Gaap’s own muscular form and deep burgundy skin.
“Oh. Well, you may jibe all you like, but I am in good company. General Leraje. General Dantalion. Both consult with him regularly, not to mention Lucifer himself.”
“Pfff. Lucifer. Maybe he used to. Now that loony of yours just goes and rants into Lou’s hollow head every week whether he wants him to or not. Lucifer will never tell us.”
“I’ve heard Lucifer speak.”
“When? Fifty years ago? And another fifty before that? He’s gone, thank slime. Someone’s gonna nab the pitchfork and I’m betting it will be General Gremaje. Sex sells, baby. And business is banging!” Sabnock ended with a cackle.
This idea made Gaap nervous. Time was another confusing concept to Gaap. Had it been fifty years since Lucifer went mute? What would happen to all his efforts if things suddenly changed? Surely Forneus had a better shot at the throne than Gremaje? He’d always seen the General as successful but hardly ambitious. “Her ‘sin’ is a necessity for procreation. It’s a given. She never had to work for it like her sister, General Leraje”, he mused to himself. Then said to Sabnock, “Well, I’d better go see if Glasya-Labolas is free.”
“Yeah, yeah. You do that, Scrote. And then get back to that weepy worm of ours. I don’t need you famously screwing this up, man.”
As he moved deeper into Hell’s Main Hall, Gaap cringed at Sabnock’s rebuke. Would he never escape the epic failure that cost him a treasured spot in General Leraje’s Legion? It weighed on him like an angel on his back. Maybe if Forneus claimed the throne, he would be relieved of his position and could rejoin Leraje if he has proven himself? All the more reason to consult the seer. He needed all the information he could get so he didn’t “screw this up”.
In the Eastern corner of The Den of Hell was the antechamber of Glasya-Labolas. Generously referred to by the shaman himself as, Satan’s Temple. As Gaap approached, he could already smell the incense and burning sage seeping through the beads that hung across the entry. It was an understandable attempt to drown out the sulfuric stench that only Lucifer seemed to adore.
As always, Glasya greeted him through the beads. “Welcome brother Gaap” said a voice that clearly came from Glasya’s owl head. “Do enter and replenish yourself.”
Gaap brushed the strings of beads aside and entered reverently. “Thank you, Master Glasya”.
As always, Glasya had a scrying fire burning in the center of a short black and white marble table just inside the entrance to the small chamber. The table was low to the ground, adorned with various idols, stones, skulls and feathers with a clear space before Glasya, where sat his tarot deck. Surrounding the table and across the entire room upon the floor were rings upon intersecting rings of sparkling red and white dust that created an intricate circuitry of lines connecting the fire and table to Glasya’s seat (a pile of chicken feathers) and every other item in the chamber. The dust sparkled and danced under the firelight. Gaap seated himself inside the empty circle across from Hell’s shaman. Glasya-Labolas gestured to the flagon of goat’s blood before him and Gaap partook. It had a strangely intoxicating effect on most all demons but was in limited supply as the veins of Furfur, Hell’s General of Sloth, was the sole source of goat’s blood on the aetheric plane. The intoxicating ceremonial libation made the lunar orgies extremely popular with the demons.
“Everywhere you want to be.” Said Glasya’s fish head after Gaap was seated. The hoary monstrosity sat between the head of an owl on Glasya’s right side and a calf’s head on his left. Gaap was always confused by the advice of the fish, though it often proved crucial eventually. The appearance Glasya wore was in the style of the old gods, from a time when Solomon and magicians before him bound their gods to animal spirits to better understand and control them. But most modern demons preferred the newer and sleeker leathery winged gargoyle look of Christian lore that Gaap and Sabnock sported. This was Gaap’s preference as it relieved him of any requirements of creativity or individuality. He only bore the bare minimum of sigils burned into his body required by Forneus for his army as well. They were mostly just useful protections against treachery of other demons, and perhaps naively, Gaap preferred to trust his compatriots until their actions proved them unworthy.
“Is it good?” asked the calf head.
“Sir? Oh, the… yes, yes, it is. The blood is quite potent today, Master Glasya-Labolas.”
“Slime! My very own brew.” Said the calf with a pleased grin.
“The spices certainly add to the meditative aspects of… oh, I’m dizzy…” Gaap feigned slipping off his seat, but he was sitting in a pile of feathers, so he just sort of leaned. He knew Glasya liked it when he hammed it up a bit and often obliged.
“Easy does it” announced the fish.
Glasya gave a hearty laugh with all heads. “Then it is time to begin! What is your query, festering spirit? How may I be of service?” spoke the calf head again as two hooves emerged from beneath Glasya’s tunic and began deftly shuffling the tarot deck on the round table that encircled the fire.
Gaap leaned his head way back as he struggled to speak through what felt like a mouth full of dried leaves. The blood was indeed potent, it seemed.
“I have a human mark I am struggling to guide into wrathful thoughts and action. But I’m uncertain how best to proceed. I have been coordinating with Lord Sabnock…” Glasya’s calf head gave an abrupt snort at the name and Gaap sobered a bit.
“Well, yes. That’s one thing. I’m not sure he has the best interests of my mark in mind. And although General Leraje advocates coordination, she also says not to be a sucker.”
“Shhhh…” Glasya-Labolas was swaying back and forth as he shuffled the cards, shooting them in spinning arcs into the air with one hoof and catching them with the other.
“Now just the name and picture her face.”
Gaap swayed along and let the intoxication gently roll over his consciousness. “Lucy. Her name is Lucy, she’s…”
“Shh… picture her in your mindscape” said the calf head.
“Maybe she’s born that way,” quipped the fish.
“FATE!” the Owl head screeched as it snapped a card out of the air with his beak and caught another with an owl’s talon from a third arm that darted from inside his cloak and nailed the card to the table. The rest of the cards flowed into Glasya’s left hoof while with his right hoof he pulled the card from his beak and laid it down beside the first. Finally, Glasya fanned the rest of the cards down in a wide sweep and waited as Gaap chose the final card and set it in place, face-down like the others.
“Maybe it’s Maybelline” concluded the fish head.
With a sideways glance at the fish head, Glasya spoke from the Owl’s mouth, “This is the life card.” Gesturing to the first. “It represents your current dilemma or conflict. You may or may not be aware of it already. This is the war card. It represents the act of struggling with your dilemma and the means of overcoming. This is the death card. It represents what must change or die in order for you to emerge victorious. Now we will turn the cards. Are you ready?”
“Yes sir.”
“No, he’s not” said the calf with a chuckle.
“Betcha can’t eat just one!” said the fish.
Glasya’s owl head sighed and gestured to the flagon.
“Once more.” Gaap drank.
“Breathe slowly”. Glasya watched Gaap closely and finally reached out and turned the first card. It was the Hermit. “Well. That’s somewhat helpful, but not particularly. The Hermit is about unseen mysteries. Hiding things from sight. It means that some crucial part of your problem remains as yet unknown. And that’s all it tells us, thank you very much!” Glasya sniped at the cards with his cow head leaning over the spread.
“Let’s try the War card.” Glasya flipped the card into the air with his talon. It jumped up like a grasshopper and landed face up. It was The Magician.
“I must be a magician now? Or I should go see Merlin?”
The owl head frowned. “No, no, no. That’s not what it means.” All the demons knew Glasya-Labolas had a sore spot against Merlin, but Gaap was never good at keeping track of the grudges of others. In actuality it was a one-sided professional jealousy that Merlin did not share in return as he considered Glasya-Labolas a clown. Glasya’s calf head harrumphed. “Of course, there is no right or wrong interpretation as I always say, but we are all magicians. Magic is simply bending reality to your will.” Said the owl head. “It's really almost a non-statement the cards have given us. Again. Rather frustrating. The owl head looked down with wide eyes and screamed “we asked you how to do the job and you tell us by doing a job! Your next word better be more insightful, or I’ll burn you and fashion another deck!”
“Everything happens for a reason” the fish pontificated.
“Indeed, sir.” Gaap concurred.
“And the Death card”, said the owl.
The talon slowly reached beneath the card and twitched. The card seemed to be instantly reversed without moving.
It was The Star.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” exclaimed the owl.
“Is that bad?” asked Gaap.
“It’s useless! The star represents loss of what you desire. The sacrifice of what you desire for your goal is the whole point of the death card! WHAT’S THE SACRIFICE? Another nothing! I’ve had it with you! Many times you’ve set cross purposes with me in the past, foul trickster! You may mock now, but this time will be the last!” Glasya bellowed with his calf head and threw the deck into the fire!
Gaap drew back, feeling utterly confused.
“Nothing runs like a Deere.” The fish head pointed out.
“Master Glasya… “
The calf bawled and the owl began lamenting bitterly until Gaap finally roused him.
“Glasya, look!”
The cards were glowing bright like hot metal in the fire but were not burning nor melting.
“By the old gods!” the owl eyes opened wide.
“Three Major Arcana… in one reading… WORMS! What have I done?”
Glasya threw his clawed arm into the fire and gathered out the scorching hot cards. The sickening smell of his burning flesh and feathers overpowered the sage and incense, as he howled in pain, “Caaaaaah!”
He dashed the glowing cards onto the table and cradled his smoldering arm.
“Glasya!” Gaap exclaimed again and pointed to the blazing brazier. One card remained in the fire. And this one did burn to ash before their gaze.
“Nooo!” Glasya-Labolas wailed sorrowfully holding his owl head between two hoofs. “Well. It is fate. My anger has given this powerful deck a terrible flaw. What a loss. What a fool I’ve been.”
“Can you figure out which card?”
The cow head cocked, eyed Gaap suspiciously and bawled as the owl head shook sadly. “To reveal the mystery of the order would destroy all the magic left in the deck!”
“Quality never goes out of style,” Moaned the fish head.
“Are you certain it was only the one card?”
Glasya’s owl eyes grew wide. “Gods…” He quickly started counting. “68, 69, 70… 71…” He still held a card in his hoof. “of course, I erred.” But he counted 72 again. And again. And drew back from the table aghast. “This deck! By the old gods! We both saw it burn!”
Glasya stared at the deck and briefly lost himself in a trance while it cooled. As the glow faded, the cards shimmered through all the colors of the rainbow. Finally, Gaap stirred and Glasya looked up at him and winced. “I suppose I must tend to my claw.”
“My apologies for being the cause of this accident, Master Glasya-Labolas.”
“When you care enough to send the very best”, advised the fish head.
“Indeed, sir”, Gaap agreed.
Glasya waved a hoof dismissively, “Quite the contrary. You helped me reveal the power of this artifact. I’m in your debt”, said the owl again staring at the pile of cards. They were cool now, but Glasya still sat mesmerized by them.
“Oh, not at all, sir.” Gaap rose from the feathers, “Fester, brother.”
“Yes, yes, fester…” said Glasya absently as he squeezed his smoldering claw.
And so Gaap left, ruminating on his cards.
“Hermit, Magician, Star. Hermit, Magician, Star. Too confusing. Maybe just focus on the Hermit for now. So, what could be hiding in the shadows unrevealed?”
In his confusion and awe at the events he’d witnessed and lost in his thoughts, Gaap passed through the swarm of busy demons crowding the Main Hall and swore, “By the old gods…”
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