Lucifer's Lottery - Edward Lee [66]
Aldehzor, Curwen knew at once, Lucifer’s Grand Messenger. It was this shadow-shape’s duty to deliver all-important ciphers from the Morning Star himself. Only a precious few of Hell’s Hierarchals were on the list to receive Aldehzor.
The carriage door was opened; the semisolid figure came in and sat down. When the door was closed again, the ranks of bodyguards stepped backward, turned, and readied their weapons, forming a wall of monsters to protect the two occupants.
“Exalted Aldehzor,” Curwen greeted.
The shadow nodded. “Supreme Master Builder.” The eyeless black face peered upward through a window. “Your progress is exceptional. I’m impressed, and I’m sure our lord will be, too, once I’ve reported back to him.” Aldehzor’s voice existed much as his physical being: indeterminate. He came from a pre-Adamic line known as Incorporeals—he was a living shadow who disguised his movements by slipping into the bodies of passersby, wearing them as camouflage. He was simply a silhouette with no discernible details save for his basic outline—a horned, wedge-shaped head atop a Humanlike body. No eyes could be seen within the wedge. If anything his voice bubbled like the ichors of Hell’s deepest trenches. “And as you might suspect, I have a message for you.”
Archlock Curwen struggled not to betray his unease. With Aldehzor, messages were either good or bad. Was a terrorist attack imminent? Had a flaw been discovered in the Demonculus’s cabalistic programming?
Am I being usurped? the Master Builder wondered in restrained dread.
“I am ready for your message, Aldehzor.”
“It has been calculated that there exists a minor chance of a power shortage here.”
Curwen sat stiff. “We’ve always known that. A minor chance.”
“Any chance is unacceptable,” the hideous voice intoned. “However, in his genius, Lucifer has devised a solution.”
“Pray tell . . .”
“Much is astir in the Mephistopolis, Archlock.” The wretched voice burbled on. “Plans and projects that even one as exalted as yourself have no clue . . .”
Curwen stared. Was the Grand Messenger trying to insult him? To belittle his status? Aldehzor’s jealousy of the exalted Human Damned was well-known. He WISHES he could be me, he felt sure, but wasn’t comfortable voicing it.
The ink-blot face looked back at him. “Your own constant sacrifices in the Cauldrons won’t be enough. I’m alarmed that your own engineers weren’t able to verify that.” A protracted pause. “However, my own alarm was apparently not perceived by our lord. For some reason he holds you in the highest favor, higher than any of the Human Damned.”
“Are you trying to intimidate me, Aldehzor?”
A wet, slopping chuckle. “Certainly not, Supreme Master Builder. I honor you. Surely you’ve heard of a crucial endeavor at the Vandermast Reservoir?”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces. Some mode of transposition, perhaps even a Spatial Merge, it’s been guessed.”
“Yes, but a permanent one.”
Astonishment caused Curwen’s guard to fall. “Permanent, you say? But that is . . . impossible.”
“Once upon a time, yes—if time existed. The Bio-Wizards at the De Rais Laboratories cracked the code.”
“But a permanent transposition would require multiple millions of Hellspawn and Humans to die simultaneously.”
The black shadow nodded. “Sixty-six million, to be exact. And a solution has been devised. It’s quite simple, actually. Those millions will die, all in the same instant. This shall bring the amperage of the Hell-Flux to immeasurably high levels. That much occult energy will be more than enough to effect the Merge. And the reserves will be transferred to you and your . . . Demonculus.”
Curwen felt light-headed. True, the possibility of insufficient power had already been cited, but with this?
It’s more power than has ever been generated in Hell, in all of its history . . .
“How,” the Master Builder demanded next. “How can this be, that multiple millions shall die simultaneously?”
Did the warped shadow actually shrug? “The Municipal Mutilation Squads throughout the entire Mephistopolis will do it—”
“But that’s not feasible at all! How could