Jack had become numb to his endless job. He felt robotic, but if he let his emotions fall away to ease the non-stop headaches, the auras around the incoming humans faded and the fear of more punishment brought him back. He hadn’t been punished at all in what he was certain had been years since his first catch, but he also had not been rewarded further. And the fact that so much time had passed meant that Buriel had yet to be found despite the victims they had discovered.
Just as he was starting to slip into his robotic, emotionless state for the billionth time, Gasyaxe burst in and shouted, “Halt! Stop everything immediately.”
For a moment, Jack thought perhaps Buriel had finally been located and everything would be back to normal. But there was no elation in Gasyaxe’s expression. It was frustration, annoyance. Every servant and human went silent, watching him.
Gasyaxe sighed before speaking again. “On Lucifer’s orders, all Soul Reachers are to return to their houses and the entrance line will return to its original state. I’m happy I’ll have my smooth process once again, but the Dark Lord has no interest in how much of a pain in the ass that is.” Gasyaxe approached Jack and spoke quietly. “You’re to go with them.” He nodded to two guards waiting near the transportation seal. “Beelzebub wants you.”
Jack blinked. Those were words he never imagined hearing. “Do you know why?”
“Do you think they actually tell me anything? I follow orders just like you. Only difference is I get a fancy title and a castle.”
As the knight walked off to begin rearranging his entrance lines, Jack approached the guards waiting for him. They stood side by side, each in nicely pressed pants and vests and a spear in one hand; they were clearly some of Beelzebub’s top guards. They said nothing to him as they took him by the arms, stood in the middle of the seal, and pulled him through a vacuum without having to touch any of the seal pillars.
Lucifer’s castle was in the center of Hell, and only appointed guards had the ability to travel to and from there. Anyone else had to be escorted. The castle was more massive than Paimon’s, Amenadiel’s, and Andromalius’s castles combined three fold. Jack thought it was a bit overkill as it only housed two demons, but one did not simply question the needs and desires of the topmost rulers of the realm.
The guards continued to hold his arms at his sides as if to prevent him from running away. Jack tried to swallow his fear as thoughts of trying to figure out why he was there flew through his mind. Was he being punished? He had been unable to count the years that had passed, but had all of that counted for nothing because he hadn’t found enough victims? He didn’t dare entertain the thought that Buriel had been found and he was to be rewarded.
Inside the castle was a wide, round room with large openings to hallways on each side. In the center was another transportation seal with two pillars with sigils on them. On the right was Beelzebub, on the left was one he so rarely saw that he almost didn’t recognize it. The upside down triangle had an extended bottom tip that curled over a V and was crossed with an X. No doubt it was the sigil of Lucifer, and no doubt few people had the privilege of using it. One of Jack’s escorts handed his spear to the other and placed his hand on Beelzebub’s sigil, bringing all three of them up to the next floor.
The hall they appeared in seemed to stretch for miles both ways. The guards, both with their spears once again, led Jack toward the giant gold doors that loomed in front of them. The doors had the sigil of the Dark Lord’s second in command and were flanked by more guards who opened the doors for them.
Jack could hardly hold back a gasp. He had never seen Beelzebub in person, only hearing rumors of what the Lord of the Flies looked like. He sat on a throne, one leg crossed over the other, a leg shaped like a human’s other than black, scaley skin that showed from under his red velvet robe. His equally scaley human-shaped arms ended in hands with long fingers and additional spikes that stuck out from his wrists and knuckles. His torso was that of a fly, the ribbed abdomen of the insect sticking out from where a human’s stomach would be, and a fly’s thorax making up the chest. His shoulders were ordained with silver ropes that also hung over his massive translucent wings that were folded up neatly behind him. But his head was the most shocking, both sides made up of giant eyes, his nose and mouth coming together like a pipe flanked by sharp pincers. His antennae were very short in the center of his head.
“Stop staring, Soul Reacher,” came the hoarse voice from an invisible mouth. “Be respectful and kneel with your fellow servants here. You should know that by now.”
Jack was nudged forward and it was only then that he saw three other demon servants kneeling there. The one he knelt directly next to was Miles, and Jack couldn’t hold back a gasp and smile. Miles didn’t return it, but his eyes shone with happiness.
“Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you,” Beelzebub growled. “Normally I wouldn’t even give a warning, but I don’t have time to wait for Osé to fix you. Lucifer has an urgent assignment for all of you, a quest if you will. It is utterly ridiculous, the most outrageous thing the Dark Lord has ever devised. But when he has his mind set on something, not even I can convince him otherwise.
“What I am about to tell you is confidential. If you tell anyone who is not part of the plan, you will be punished. For nearly a week, Lucifer has been working with the Great Kings, asking them to find the four best candidates for this quest. You are the results.”
Jack looked at Miles again, then past him at the other two servants who looked at him equally as curious. They were both dressed identically to him, though the shorts of the one directly next to Miles seemed a little less dingy. He had short, spiky brown hair and a goatee, his curious look laced with disdain. The farthest demon had long blond hair and appeared much younger than any of them.
Beelzebub pointed at the latter. “This is 1301 from the 33rd legion of President Zagan in the north.” He pointed at the other stranger. “This is 0192 from the 5th legion of Great King Asmoday in the south.” When 0192 held his chin high, Jack could take a guess where the disdain toward him was stemming from. Gesturing to Miles, Beelzebub said, “This is 0497 in the 8th legion of Duke Valefor in the east. And this is 197 from the first legion of Earl Andromalius in the west. The Soul Reacher who will be leading the rest of you on this mission.”
Those last words repeated in Jack’s mind. Leading the rest of you on this mission. It was one thing to lead Miles in stealing human souls, but it was something else entirely to lead a team to do something even bigger, likely something to do with Buriel.
“As you know,” Beelzebub continued, “it has been a long time since Prince Buriel escaped, and despite all efforts he remains at large. However, there is a new threat. I think the Dark Lord has been in denial for fifteen years about how this would eventually escalate as it has, but he doesn’t always listen to reason. Buriel copulated with a human, who somehow survived long enough to birth a cambion.”
0192 gasped while the others simply stared. Jack had never heard of such a thing, but it sounded bad.
“This cambion, this boy, is powerful in ways we are not entirely sure of, but he presents a great threat to the Dark Lord’s eternal goals, and there is concern that he might discover his father and we’ll have quite the mess on Earth. Unfortunately he is just as sneaky as his father and can’t be easily tracked. And it seems he hasn’t had any victims yet. But Lucifer feels he can be easily baited and trapped. Which is where you come in.”
Jack held his breath, expecting to be told he would need to fight a war against a vicious serpent demon that could destroy him with the flick of his tail.
“Supposedly, the cambion is tempted by music, so Lucifer wants…” Beelzebub sighed, shaking his insect head as he rested it on one clawed hand. “He wants the four of you to go to Earth as a heavy metal band.”
Miles audibly laughed while Jack raised one eyebrow, 0192 stared at Beelzebub in disgust, and 1301 looked excited. Beelzebub swiftly reached for a sword that was propped against his throne and pointed it at Miles, a quick flash of light shooting forward into his gut, silencing him as he doubled over.
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“Though I agree it is ridiculous and laughable, you will not show disrespectful amusement at your Dark Lord. Understood?”
Miles nodded, holding his stomach.
“Lucifer has also worked with many of the other leaders to begin putting things in place for your success. This will take time. The cambion is still young and has likely not discovered all of his powers just yet. Since you obviously have no experience in writing and performing music, you will be given those abilities and knowledge by Duke Amdusias. There are many things that must take place for this preposterous plan to work, and while those details are being sorted out, your focus is to become musicians. You will go to Amdusias immediately and he will give you further details.”
Raising his hand, 0192 said, “Sir, if I may…”
“What?”
“You said earlier that the Soul Reacher is leading this mission. I’m wondering if perhaps someone of a higher”—he looked at Jack—“house stature should be leading this.”
“Said by a true servant of Asmoday. The high intelligence your leader gifted you will allow you to advise only. Contrary to popular belief, Soul Reachers are of higher status than you.”
“But he works for an earl. King Asmoday has Soul Reachers, all the kings do.”
“And one of your house’s Soul Reachers failed to catch one of Buriel’s victims, but this one found it. He may work for an earl, but he’s more powerful than you three combined. Besides, you all work for Lucifer now.”
Part of Jack was offended by 0192’s remarks, but he also felt nothing like a leader. He raised his hand.
“What now, you?” Beelzebub shouted.
“I—I think he’s actually got a good point, I’m not much of a leader and—”
“Shut up!” Beelzebub grabbed his sword and leaned forward on his throne. “If any of you dare to argue with the Dark Lord’s plans further, I’ll have your heads cut off and thrown in fire. Understood?”
They all nodded. Jack wondered if such punishment would be better than what he was being asked to do, but it was likely he would still have to do it after a beheading. The four demons stood and were led from the castle and to the seal.
Duke Amdusias resided on the west side of Hell, a place Jack knew 0192 in particular despised. Though all of the other regions looked down upon the west, anyone in the entire hierarchy under Great King Asmoday had great disdain for the region Jack called home. Many of the other rulers in other hierarchies hated them in return, annoyed by their boasting of having incredible intelligence of various subjects. The more he thought about it, the more Jack wondered if working with 0192 might be the worst part of the whole mission.
The castle they arrived at was not much different on the outside than others, but the inside was adorned with various musical instruments, from harps to violins to guitars to pianos and more. Soft music played, much easier to endure than that in Paimon’s castle. The guards led them to an office at the top of a set of wide stairs where they were greeted by a black unicorn.
Amdusias was sitting at a desk as a human would, his hind legs below the desk, his forelegs bending at human-like elbows but ending in hooves as he leaned over a piece of parchment. His skin was shiny and soft like a stallion, his black mane with silver highlights flowing over one shoulder, and his black horn glittered in the firelight. His head was no different than a horse, forcing him to tilt it so at least one of his eyes could read the parchment. When the four demons knelt in front of his desk, Amdusias said in a gruff voice, “Never mind that, stand. I don’t care about all that kneeling shit around here.”
It felt strange to stand before a ruler, especially since it made Jack taller than the seated duke. Amdusias looked up from his parchment and eyed each of the four demons in turn. “Not what I expected.” He pointed at 1301. “Only you look the part, but you’re all the chosen ones so who am I to argue.”
Wrinkling his nose, 0192 said, “Do we all need to have long hair?”
“No, Lucifer says he wants you to look the same as always. I suggested a change in look if needed but he declined. You and you”—he pointed to 0192 and Jack—“at least have some scruff on your face, it’ll do.”
Jack rubbed his cheek, the same level of stubble he’d always had, never having to shave and it never grew more.
“Anyway, you all have Earth names, which Lucifer also wants you to keep. While you’re with me I’ll allow you to use them. I’m not one for rules if you haven’t noticed.” With his hoof he motioned for a pen to come to him from one side of the desk and it hovered in front of it as he went to his parchment again. “Jack Harper, who’s that?”
Jack raised his hand.
“You’re gonna sing and play guitar. Double duty. Don’t worry, it’ll be easy once I’m done with you.”
The mental image of himself singing and playing a guitar seemed like the craziest thing he’d ever imagined. Amdusias had the pen put a checkmark on the parchment.
“Miles Fischer. You’re playing keyboards.”
“What’s that?” Miles asked.
“Have you never seen Buriel’s gang tormenting around? A couple of his dukes play them. Makes different tones and shit. It’s a thing in certain genres of metal and Lucifer wants that.” Amdusias studied Miles while putting a checkmark. “You look the part, too.”
Miles raised an eyebrow and looked at Jack as if wanting reassurance. His clean-cut black hair and clean-shaven face made him look more like an office worker than a heavy metal musician. Jack shrugged.
“Will I still wear my glasses?” Miles asked.
Amdusias looked up and studied Miles’s face again. “You wear glasses on Earth? Why the fuck do you wear glasses?”
Miles shrugged. “I don’t actually need them. It’s just for show, I guess.”
“It’s fine, it’ll add some spice to the vibe Lucifer wants. I might insist he let you grow a little stubble or get messy hair like these other two.”
Jack ran his fingers through his black hair that indeed did stick up in random places that refused to lay flat.
“Moving on,” Amdusias continued. “Dorian Demaio, you’re playing bass.” 0192 raised his hand. “Don’t worry smarty pants, people will actually highly commend your talent. Don’t let it feed your ego too much, though.”
Dorian shuffled his feet at the comment, trying to stand tall but clearly offended.
“And Cameron Sunderland, you’re on drums. And writing the lyrics. Must have a way with words or something.”
“Wait,” 1301 said, a little half smile appearing. “I get to write lyrics? Lucifer’s gonna let me do that?”
“Crazy, right? Well, you work for Zagan so I guess I’m not surprised. Smarty pants with wit. But Lucifer’s got specific requirements, so don’t get too excited.”
Cameron grinned regardless, Dorian rolling his eyes.
With all the names checked off, Amdusias sent the pen down and leaned back in his leather chair, front legs crossed over his chest. “Here’s the deal. In short, I give you powers, you go write songs according to certain guidelines, and if Lucifer likes it, off you go. Now, I’m sure you all remember having your memories removed when you first became external servants, correct?”
Jack remembered it very well, the earliest memory he now had. It had been like Andromalius’s analyses, the feeling of having his brain pushed through a sieve, but for hours and much deeper. Duke Dantalion of the south was in charge of the procedure, relishing in the extreme pain each new recruit endured. It was considered the external servant’s only truly cruel punishment for whatever they had done on Earth, not only because of the agony, but because they no longer knew of anything that happened prior to that event. Jack had felt so empty inside, like his head had been cleaned out of everything except basic things like speech, reading, writing, and general knowledge of the workings of Earth. He had grown used to it, only occasionally wondering what had brought him there in the first place.
“Well,” Amdusias continued, “what I’m going to do to you is basically like that, just backwards. Putting stuff in instead of taking out. Same beautiful, extensive agony, but pretty cool results.” A smile appeared on the duke’s face, an odd sight on a unicorn.
Jack looked at his comrades. They all shared the same look of dread that he felt.
Amdusias stood from his desk and walked toward his door on his hind legs. “Come, then, let’s get this party started.”
Servants took each of the soon-to-be musicians to separate rooms on the first floor of the castle. Jack was instructed to lay on his back on a slab of stone that stood waist high in the middle of the room. One of the two servants present placed a hand on Jack’s chest, and after a quick flash that shot throughout his body, his limbs went limp and he could no longer move them. He didn’t remember this part of the procedure, being paralyzed yet still able to feel.
The door to the room opened and closed, but Jack could not move his head to look. Amdusias appeared in his view, smiling. “Normally my servants would begin the procedure, but since you’re supposed to receive extra special abilities, I get to do it myself. I’d tell you to just think about how great you’ll be afterwards, but you’ll be in too much pain during this to think about anything. Trust me, it will be worth it.”
Amdusias placed a hoof on Jack’s head, closed his eyes, and in an instant his head filled with agony, like a spear had pierced his forehead and exploded into a million spikes that spread through every nerve in his brain and pulsed with endless fire. The pain was the same as he remembered, but instead of the feeling of his brain being vacuumed, it felt like the fire in the nerves was filling his head, increasing the pressure to a point where he was certain his skull would explode. He saw nothing but darkness and heard nothing but his own screams until little split-second visions and sounds popped up occasionally. Hands holding a guitar, likely his own. A sheet of music. A microphone accompanied by a quick sound of a male singing voice. A stage under lights. A crowd of people and a flash of cheering. A picture of four men, likely him and his new bandmates. Hands playing the guitar, speeding along the frets. But he could not focus on any of it. The pain wiped away any attempt at free thought.
For hours he endured it. Hours of darkness and flashes of what he was gaining. Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped and only black silence remained.