Soul Traffic

He sits in the biggest office in the tallest building in the grandest city in the world. His desk has no nameplate and to most of the world outside, he isn't even real. Outside the giant office windows is a city he watches eat, kill, and destroy itself. There is no computer on his desk and while the office looks modern and is well kept, its decorations and furniture look more like ancient artifacts than current living quarters. And he sits, looking from file to file, from book to book, outside and then back to his work. He works with purpose and is driven by his desire and focus. The room is quiet and very hot and the setting sun turns everything red, orange, and pink. He is dressed like lawyer for GQ, who lives with a staff of professional stylists and artists. Needless to say he looks good. He always looks good. In fact, he is the most handsome man you will every meet. His eyes are soft blue and grey, and they invite your soul to wish for more. His skin is smooth, golden, radiant, and often looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine. His teeth and smile make women melt and gives men confidence they have never known and when he speaks, you confuse his voice for a choir of angels. He is powerful, rich and kind and will give you anything and everything you could ever want. He only asks for one simple thing in return, your soul.

A young man walks into the office without knocking and carries paperwork in folders under his arm. As he approaches, the seated man looks up but makes no reaction and offers no greeting. Without speaking the young man hands over the files and the man seated immediately begins to go through them.

“Do you think this is it? Do you think this will work?” The young man asks with a genuine curiosity in his voice.

The seated man looks upwards without moving his head, “Lets hope so… my patience is wearing thin and we are running out of time,” he says, looking back towards the files.

“Is this all of it, is this everything?”

“Yes… will there be anything else?”

“There is Malachi. The girl, see what you can find on the girl.”

Malachi nods and asks, “anything else?”

“No Malachi. That will be all.”

The young man turns and walks out.

The seated man puts down the files and picks up his cell phone off the desk and dials a number. Even the devil has to keep in touch with his friends and family. The phone rings a few times and a voice with lots of noise in the background answers, “Hey brother.”

“Are you at a strip club? Are you at another fucking strip club? When you are done with your lap dance, or whatever it is you are in the middle of doing, it would be great if you could come by the office. There is something I need to show you.”

“I’m not at a strip club, I’m at a… I’m not at a strip club. What do you want to show me?”

“This would be better done in person.”

“Lou, I’m right in the middle of something here. Can it wait?”

The voice on the line says to somebody else, “I paid for a full song, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Lou sighs, “No Vasilios, it can't, so... get your ass over here."

"Fine, I’ll be there in 30 minutes."

"V... Malachi was just here."

The other line is quiet except for the loud thump of the bass, the squeal of girls, the clanking of glass bottles, a girls’ voice yelling “HEY?!?” and finally Vasilios saying, “I’m on my way.”

…

Vasilios sits across from Lou with his elbows on the desk and his hands crossed in front of him. He raises his eyebrows and says, “Well…out with it.”

“I have received some top secret intelligence that would appear to have some very valuable information about our dear friends upstairs that could very well alter the course of their so well planed out Armageddon.”

“You have the blue prints for the Apocalypse?”

“Maybe.”

“You pulled me out of Sweet Tips for maybe. Do I need to beat it out of you?”

Lou, obviously annoyed at his brothers’ lack of desire to draw out his big news, tosses the folder over and says, “Read it.”

V opens the folders and starts to flip through what looks like ancient text, old sketches of some sort of horn and more transcripts written in Aramaic and Hebrew. “What is all this? We starting a family band?” He puts the folder down.

“Such a child. No dick. That horn is our key to finally getting back at those assholes who kicked us out of our home."

“You got us kicked out. Lets not get mixed up here. I didn't leave under my own will. I was forced out of paradise because you have an issue with our creator. I didn’t want to get kicked out.”

“Whatever. This is our chance to even the score.”

“Well I’m all for that, but what is all this text and what’s with the horn? Can’t you just give me cliff notes? You know I hate reading that ancient script shit, it is so confusing. It’s like trying to read Shakespeare.”

“Would a little culture kill you? Shakespeare is art, not a fitness magazine.”


”I get plenty of culture. Trixie was just telling me about how she thinks her baby daddy could either be Mexican or Chinese, but either way he ain’t gonna be no gang banger. Now that’s culture.”

Lou drops his head; clearly the dramatic affect he was going for is now lost. “Ok, enough of this… just shut up and listen. This is big, so just follow along and don’t say anything. I have found a major loophole in the plan of salvation in direct correlation to the second coming of Jesus. It has forever been believed that on the day that Gabriel blows the final horn, all the saved will leave their worldly bodies and ascend to the heavens. All those left behind would be left for us to do with what we please. What I am proposing is that what if Gabriel never blows his horn? And better yet, what if somebody else blows it for him? Say… one of us?”

V, with intent in his eyes, is captivated by Lou, “but you and I both know those are sacred and blessed horns and no demon, on earth or in hell, can lay a finger on those horns without instant cremation.”

“Exactly brother, no demon, but instead a man, especially a man with royal blood, a man with royal lineage to those who sit on the thrown of the underworld. For as far back as I can remember I have had some sort of child of mine living here on earth for this very purpose. I just needed the right tools for the job. A human with the same blood that flows through me flows through him. If I can get my son to blow that seventh horn, the final horn, every saved soul will be up for grabs. It will unleash hell on earth and it will be every man for himself. Those mother fuckers will have to fight for what’s theirs, no soul is safe and you better believe they won’t be ready for this kind of battle.”


”Battle? This is war. This will be a holy war. It will be every angel versus every demon for every living soul on earth. You’re fucking insane Lou, absolutely insane, and if you are right, than you maybe be the craftiest motherfucker alive.”

“Well I wouldn’t say alive really, but I get what you’re saying.”

“But wait I second, you aren’t talking about using Lark are you? You do have somebody a little older than him, somebody with a little more hands on experience doing these kinds of jobs? Someone with a little more mayhem experience?”

“Well I did... but he died a couple years back in that zoo fire. Marcus was his name. Marcus Acario.”

“No, no way man, not Lark. He’s so young; he’s barely a man, if even. This would be way too much for him. You can't send a boy to do a man’s job, and this is way to important to risk having some kid fuck it up. Opportunities like this just don't come along every year.”

“What other choice do we have? He is the only living family we have and it would take years to get another and you know we don’t have time. The wheels here are in motion and going full speed. Our plan is working perfectly, we just need the right tool for the job.”

“He’s not a fucking tool Lou, he’s a kid, and he’s my nephew and your son, not just a name on a list. I am telling you right now you are asking too much. I want this just as badly as you do, but...I don't know man... I just don't think it's fair.”

“Fair? Was it fair that we got banished from our home for questioning our creator? Was it fair that we have to live a life without his love just for trying to help? They sold us out V. They threw us under the bus because they needed to make an example of us. How many other angels are down here with us? And a son? A nephew? He has no clue who or what he is, and I guarantee that if he knew he was related to us he would just kill himself. What am I supposed to do, send him a birthday card saying ‘Happy 21st son, love your dad the devil’? He is our only option and you know it.”

Vasilios sits quietly for a few minutes while he contemplates what is happening. It is obvious he isn't in love with the idea of using Lark, but he also understands the weight of their situation and the lack of options they have.

“... how do we get him to blow the horn? I mean, unless we tell him it will never cross his mind. And if we tell him, don’t you think he will want to know why? We are asking him to sacrifice his life and essentially everyone else’s for our personal gain. I'm not sure he'll be so willing to participate."

Lou looks away from Vasilios and outside to where the city is bright with lights from pulsing living life below. “Leave that to me, I think we may be able to work out a deal of sorts. I think there may be something of his that he would rather not loose. I just have to convince him that this small favor will be worth the trade.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound when you try to talk tough like you have a secret. Just fucking tell me what you think you can trade him for.”

Lou turns back around and points to another folder on the desk but says nothing. V picks it up and turns it long ways. “She’s cute…is this your plan? Trade the girl for the horn? You think it will work, I mean, you think she’s worth it to him?”

“Yea, I think she is.”

“So we are resting the fate of our eternity on a girl and how much Lark likes her?”

“You got a better plan?”

V looks back down at the file for a little longer, “Well Lucy Stellar, lets hope you’re worth it.”