Lucifer's Lottery - Edward Lee [92]
Across the yard a beautiful girl-next-door type strides toward the congregation, pushing a wheelbarrow full of iced-down bottles of beer.
“Marcie! My very first girlfriend!” you instantly recognize. “We never had sex but . . .”
“Accept the Senary, Mr. Hudson, and you shall be presented with that opportunity forthwith.”
You stare. You’d forgotten all about Marcie. Your first kiss, and in fact the only girl you’d ever made out with. The combination of her beauty, intellect, and demeanor had made her the only person to tempt you not to become a priest.
“We both loved each other but . . . decided we loved God more,” you drone, remembering through a fog of heartbreak. “So we parted. I went to college to prepare for the seminary and she went to a convent . . .”
“Well, the lady’s convent days were short-lived. Convent day, I should rephrase.”
“She quit after only one day?”
“I’m afraid so, whereupon she immediately pursued avenues of life quite sexual. Whenever she was with another man, however, she always pretended he was you . . .”
First you gulp, but then frown. “You’re just saying that, Howard. To get me to accept!”
Howard’s pallid finger rises. “I’ll remind you, Mr. Hudson, that as the Trustee, I am not allowed to lie or to exaggerate. It must be your untainted free will that prompts your ultimate decision.”
You shake your gourd-head and sigh. “So . . . how did Marcie die?”
“I’m told she suffered a calamitous misadventure involving a steamroller, but that’s neither here nor there. What matters is that she’s here, now, in the flesh. She as well as the other Human Damned who mean the most to you.” Howard offers you a stern look. “And you’d be doing them all an immeasurable service by accepting the Senary, Mr. Hudson.”
“How’s that?”
“Because there’s no purpose in Lucifer keeping them here if you chose not to take up residence in the castle. Your friends and family would be redelegated back into Hell’s mainstream, where they wouldn’t fare well at all, I’m afraid.”
Your gaze at him shifts. “So it’s blackmail?”
“Lucifer has no qualms in revealing his motives. He wants something from you very badly, and he will go to great pains to urge you into giving it to him. By offering you the prize of all your dreams and all your fantasies, which you will be able to enjoy forever.”
“Sex, money, and luxury . . .”
“Yes, and let us not forget envy, for you will be envied, by everyone in Hell. The gift Lucifer wishes to bestow upon you—in exchange for the gift you will give to him—represents the distillation of what all Humans desire most.”
Now your eyes drift back to the sky. “I still don’t see what Lucifer gets out of the deal. Another soul? From what I can see, he’s got plenty of those.”
“Plenty, yes, but, lo, not yours. Not the Soul of one who willingly says no to God’s promise of Salvation. For someone so entirely on the plus side of the Fulcrum, to cast God aside in favor of Lucifer—that, Mr. Hudson, is the only satisfaction Lucifer can ever truly enjoy.”
Your vision reels again at the sight of the castle and its spectacular grounds, your friends and family, as well as the sheer carnal pleasures that await.
Carnal pleasure that you’ve never experienced . . .
Like a crack of mental lightning, you know.
You know what you are about to do . . .
CHAPTER NINE
(I)
Master Builder Curwen watched wide-eyed from his observation minaret. Thus far, the Sputum Storm appeared to be confined beyond the official limits of the Mephistopolis, its sickish green clouds leaving no doubt of its existence. From so far away, it looked like a mere phlegm-colored streak along the bottom of the scarlet horizon, but as Hell’s most dangerous type of storm, one could never rest assured. They’d been known to sit still and hang for extended periods, then suddenly move off with no warning at speeds of hundreds of miles per hour. Curwen wasn’t certain, but he believed the storm was sliding over the Outer Sectors, probably the Great Emptiness Quarter.
Pray Satan, let it stay there.
For such a storm to move here, over the Pol Pot District,