It was a surprise to no one that they’d met by sitting next to each other at the bar.
In their line of work, coincidences were usually engineered, but both of them were usually too weary to worry about it. George introduced himself by getting their next round. About halfway through, George turned to his neighbor and asked the question that had been on his mind ever since he realized who she actually was.
“Um, sorry for asking, but … What’s it like working directly for the Boss?”
Mikhaele looked at George, slightly unsteadily. “Timing, mate. Yer man Vic there, behind the bar, seems to be trying to drown me in whisky,” and at this she peered at George, “including that really foul bottle with yer name on it.” She smiled as she said this; it was a smile built to bring relief to the new arrivals. “Don’t ask me about work when I’m this drunk. And is that bottle your fault?”
“That single malt from, uh, California? What’s wrong with that stuff?”
Mikhaele actually snorted. “You wait for Andy to show up and ask him. In fact, I hear he’s just come off a job downstairs. If so, you can bet that little dragon-slaying sword of yours he’ll be here before too long.”
George considered it, and decided he’d need a few more drinks to be dumb enough to bet someone as senior as she. Something else coughed itself up in the back of his head, though. He squinted at his drinking companion and asked: “Whose sword you calling little?”
Mikhaele laughed, took a long pull of her beer-back, set it down loudly next to her whisky, and smiled. “Ah, now,” she said between chuckles, “save that stuff for downstairs. You and me, we’re good …” Mikhaele turned a little to her right and looked over the corner of the bar, past the other regulars and beyond to the group of new arrivals huddled together in a booth in the corner. “But that pack of punks wouldnt’a heard that right, if they’d’a heard it.”
The group of new arrivals was touchy, all right. No matter how often they made the trip, the journey was disorienting, and they were in a foul temper. They had their drinks, of course, but that was about all. There were five of them, they were irritable and grouchy, and each of their journeys had been harrowing.
“Bassards, all of ’em,” slurred Charlie into her beer. There was more, but that was all that came out clearly. Of the five, Charlie was the most volatile. One minute she’d be happily drunk in the corner: the next, she’d be a destructive force of fury. Of course, there were no weapons allowed in Vic’s – even the “glasses” were unbreakable, and not even Vic could break them – but if anyone could craft a weapon out of nothing in a drunken fury, it’d be Charlie.
Eddie had seen this movie before, and knew what came next. While Charlie was muttering sour nothings, Eddie slid a little farther away, and watched her warily over his wineglass. Eddie was a coward, and he didn’t care who knew it.
Freddie, on the other hand, was afraid of nothing: in a sense, Freddie was fear. He enjoyed watching as Charlie got closer, sip by sip, to her inevitable explosion. Sometimes it happened soon, and sometimes it happened slowly, but it always happened. Meanwhile, he was happy to enjoy Eddie’s growing fear of Charlie.
Bennie ignored all three of them. Bennie may have appeared aloof and in control of his surroundings, but Donnie was the leader and everyone knew it. Bennie wasn’t likely to take Donnie’s place, either: as ruthless as Bennie was, Donnie always seemed to be either one step ahead of him or on a different road entirely.
Bennie had to content himself with glaring at the rest of the bar, as though everyone else were ungrateful trespassers. Bennie acted as if he owned the place, even though he knew better.
Donnie didn’t know any better at all. The place may have been Vic’s, but as far as Donnie was concerned it, and everything else she could see or hear or think of, belonged to her. Bennie may have been a ruthless bastard, but Donnie was genuinely unhinged.
There was a group of new arrivals, and following tradition, as soon as they were done processing their re-entry, they headed straight to the bar. The first of these arrivals was almost attacked by Mikhaele as soon as he crossed the threshold; indeed, she had been watching the door waiting for him.
“Andy!! How have you been? How was your trip?” Mikhaele raced off her stool to welcome him with a hug and a kiss. George didn’t know who Andy was, but he got off his stool and stood to the side respectfully while they rearranged themselves. They returned to their seats hand in hand.
“Trip was just fine, Angel,” Andy said, relinquishing her hand with no hurry as they approached George. “Did what I went there for. Might be seeing a few more cats up here next time, if I did my job right. How you been doing up here? Boss run you to the ground yet?”
“Not drunk yet,” she mock-slurred, “but not for lack of trying. This youngster over here keeps slowing me up, asking me questions. Ah – Andy, meet George. You know, with the dragon. The one all those stories came from. George, meet Andrew – one of the original Twelve.”
Mikhaele smiled and they all resumed their seats and their drinks: Andrew on her left and George on her right. “Yes, it was nice down there. Won’t be for long now, more’s the pity.” Andrew continued as he caught Vic’s attention. “Went by David, as I recall. Had some people come through that I was mighty glad to know, and I sure do ‘spect to see them take up residence here sooner rather than later, like I said before.”
George was glad to busy himself with his drink for a moment. One of the Twelve?! Andrew outranked him all right – in fact, next to him, George almost felt like a private again in his first army. Preoccupied with his surprise, he missed much of the next part of the conversation, until of course Mikhaele started in on the whisky jokes again.
Donnie peered at his beer for a moment before speaking. “I can’t stop thinking about Luc. I still say she had the right idea. Wherever the –” (here Donnie suddenly wheezed, uncharacteristically, if not entirely unexpectedly) “– she is now.”
Bennie continued his impassive surveillance of the bar, but groaned inside. Fuck me, not again, he thought. Already?
Donnie continued, “Look, it’s obvious why she flipped out. She worked hard, right? Practically ran the place, didn’t she?” Donnie drank again. “Why can’t I remember?” she asked herself quietly. “I’m pretty sure I was there…”
“Anyway,” Donnie continued loudly, “Luc was right. The Boss is a loser. Hardly steps foot in the office, even sends Himself downstairs once, then one day – wham! He’s back, and just up and says mid-week that everything’s changed and we all have to go down there now, over and over, need it or not. What kind of way is that to run things? We could do better.”
Freddie smiled. Charlie took another drink. Without moving, Bennie looked sideways at Donnie, waiting for history to finish repeating itself. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe they would all come out winners this time. Or else maybe just Bennie would be the winner. That would be nice.
“Really, we could,” Donnie continued. “Hey, how could we do worse? And why else do you think we keep getting sent back down, anyway? We get sent down more than anyone, don’t we? I feel like we do. Maybe we do, I don’t know. But I tell you what I do know: He’s afraid of us, that’s what. He knows we could do better, and he’s afraid we’ll prove it. Isn’t he?”
Freddie smirked. “Oh yes, my Don. We could do so much better. As nice as it is to feed off their dreams and fears down there, it’d be better to do that up here. All of them.” Freddie smiled in a way that nobody ever liked, and flexed his fingers, touching his fingertips together the way he used to long ago, Down There. “What do you have in mind, my Don?”
Donnie preened a little at this, and continued a little more quietly. “Well, I say let’s start somewhere small, and take that over. Show everyone how much better we are, and of course they’ll see that. Then the rest will take care of itself.” Donnie took another sip. “Maybe that was Luc’s problem all along, that she just tried too much at once,” she added to herself, under her breath.
“Start where small?” asked Eddie. Eddie may have been a coward, but he wasn’t an idiot. He also wanted to hear if it would be really new this time, but it rarely was. Apparently, Donnie was the only one who couldn’t remember her previous times up here. Everyone else could, once they came back, but not Donnie. Every time Donne was up here, she acted like it was her first Ascension. Every single time. It got scarier every time, actually.
“Where else?” she answered him. “Where everyone goes: here. We’re going to take over Vic’s.”
Bennie went back to his surveillance with a small sigh. Freddie giggled, again. Eddie said nothing, but clearly he seemed disappointed. Charlie simply turned her attention back to her beer.
“Bassards, all bassards”, she slurred.
They spoke about whisky for a while. Andrew knew a lot about whisky, which wasn’t really a surprise when you thought about it, and Mikhaele kept up with the discussion as best she could despite liberal sampling of the subject. Presently the conversation hit a lull, and George took the opportunity to try again with his question. He was rewarded with a look from her as though he had poured water in her whisky.
“Hm,” she started slowly. “Fine. Short story shorter: He comes up with the big ideas and I’m the lucky bastard who makes them happen. Not complaining, right, just reporting. Anyway. Way back.” She blinked slowly. “Okay, you know the stories, right? How He put it all together, set it all in motion, and then he ‘Rested’?”
George nodded as he drank. “Well,” Mik continued, “Who do you think ran the joint then? We did, of course. Which was fine – glad to have the trust – but that kinda work is no joke.”
“And a fine job you did,” ventured Andy. “No one I know could have done better.”
Mik seemed to think about it a bit longer. “Well, thank you, my dear. But you know I never wanted the job, and still don’t. Even she didn’t back then. Of course she was a he at the time, but — okay, whatever. Look. They love us, down there, fine. But I dunno. They run around acting like someone’s watching absolutely everything all billions of them do. Like they forgot what they’re there for. You know?”
“Well, of course they’ve forgotten, haven’t they?” George asked back. “By definition, you know.” He looked pensive for a moment, or perhaps he was just peering through his cups. He looked up at her more seriously. “Okay, I’m sorry but – can I just say – Obviously it was before my time, but I never did understand that whole thing with Luc.”
Mik got quiet. Talking about Luc always made her sad. “Well, neither did I really, you know. I mean, yeah, while He was gone, we ran it together, Luc and I. And then all of a sudden Luc just snapped, y’know? Everything changed. I guess I should’ve seen it coming. And then things just got worse and worse, and then you get what we got. Which led to where we are now.”
“How d’you mean?” asked Andrew, giving Mik time to down her whisky and nod at Vic.
“Well, with everyone going back down all the time, I mean. Of course we all need it, to get us to level up, so to speak. But still, it’s a rough ride, every time, and for her it’s roughest of all, as we all know. I almost feel bad for the bastard,” she added, looking again at the table of the five newcomers.
They were no longer there.
Don had moved up to the bar area, and was talking to Vic. Don could talk the tail off a donkey; she always could. Mik looked around, and when she saw this, she started getting sober pretty quickly.
The other four, once again set free, went to amuse themselves. Freddie went from table to table, just smiling at everyone. His smiles were cold enough to freeze lava, and he knew it. All he was doing was smiling. (That’s what you’re supposed to do up here, right? he liked to ask. Smile and be happy? I’m smiling, and I’m happy. Is it my fault that others don’t like my smile?)
Charlie took a stool near where Donnie was talking to Vic. She just sat there, drinking and continuing to build up fury. Eddie sat close, but not too close, just drinking wine and hoping against hope that at least this time, Charlie would keep her cool.
Donnie, who was by now done talking with Vic, stood on a chair to get everyone’s attention. Ordinarily, Vic should have kicked her out by now, but instead he looked meaningfully at Mikhaele. Mik no longer looked even the least bit drunk. She looked at Vic, and then back at Donnie, who began to speak to the room.
“Angels! Demons! Come to me, my saints! Good news, all you recent souls! I am here to free you! You never have to go back Down There again! Just follow me now! Tell Vic here that you want me to run the place! Rise up and break free!”
Freddie’s grin grew wider. He could see the effect his Don’s words were having on some of the patrons, especially the ones who had been through this a few times. He already felt the beginnings of doubt from some of them, and it fed him a little, making him greedy for more.
Mikhaele, for her part, couldn’t decide between anger and pity. She looked over at Donnie and waited for her to pause. “And … why would I let that happen?”
“Cause I’m better than you, and smarter than you,” Donnie replied smugly.
“Really?” asked Mik sweetly. “If you’re so smart, what did you do Down There, this time?”
“I don’t know, but I bet it was important,” retorted Donnie. She was getting a little worried, and Freddie was getting even happier. “But I know I’m smarter than you, and I know I’m smarter than Luc was, and I bet I’ll succeed where she failed.”
Mik got off her stool and looked over at Don with nothing but pity. The bar grew dead silent. “Well, here it comes again,” she said slowly. “Of course you can’t remember, since we do wipe your memory every time. Why do you think we do that?” she asked.
Don wasn’t quite sure what she’d meant be all that, but she could latch onto the last question: the answer for that one was always (always? she asked herself) the same. “Because you’re afraid of me. You don’t want me to take over. It’s all a big conspiracy.”
“Of course not. Pretend intelligent people are in the room,” she admonished, fruitlessly of course. “We keep wiping you because we keep hoping you’ll come back with something new, so we’d finally get to stop doing this over and over. It’s getting really tedious, and if anything could introduce depression up here for more than a microsecond, it’s that.”
Mik moved a little closer, and looked Luc in the eyes. “Luc, darling, I’ve worked with you for so much longer than you know, and you always refuse to learn. I wish you would try, because I’m really getting tired of this shit. Over and over again, and you’re the only one who can’t remember, cause that’s how the Boss decided you’d pay for that little stunt so long ago, and thanks to that now all of us do too, so thanks for that too, you fucking tool.”
Mikhaele looked around and found the attention of the other four. “You. Fools. Here. Now.” They approached her, some faster than others, but presently all five were in front of Mikhaele. The rest of the bar continued to watch and wait, some sipping furtively at their drinks, all silent.
“She, at least, has an amnesia excuse, but the rest of you are just fucking useless, and always have been, and collectively you have become an unbearable pain in my ass. Why do you think we always send you back together? It’s not just because of who she is … or was, anyway. It’s because you apparently refuse to leave each other alone, we send you back together so that you can get better together. But that never seems to happen, does it? So this time I’m going to wipe all five of you, and send you back. Now.
“But congratulations, I suppose,” she added, “because at least something different did happen this time. This is by far the shortest time you ever spent up here before getting Sent back Down. Might have to go back to Boss and mention that you aren’t getting better, only worse,” Mik added regretfully. “Maybe then something could really change. And about time, too,” she muttered as she turned her gaze on all five of them.
Donnie went to say something, but couldn’t. Her other four couldn’t move, either. They were all frozen. Mikhaele moved closer to Donnie.
“Why do you think I get so drunk all the time?” she asked Donnie, very quietly now. “Because I miss you, you fool. Because of course I still love you. Of course I want you back. But I want you back, not this insipid troll you insist on having become.”
“Please, please. Figure your shit out. And this time, how about you ditch these assholes, huh? They aren’t doing anything but stroking your ego, and if there’s one thing in all Creation that never needed stroking, that’s it.”
She leaned in and gave a wide-eyed Donnie a kiss. “I love you,” she said, “because of, and despite, your anger, hate, and fear. Go back with my blessing, if no one else’s – and please, in the name of our Boss and for the love of all Creation, please try to work harder this time. We used to run this place together. We could do it again. We could make it better. It’s still not too late. But we sure can’t do that without you.”
“Goodbye, Lucifer,” she said to Donnie as she sent all five of them back down again. “Try harder this time. See you when you get back.”
Moth to the Flame 