A Meeting in the Library

The brass plaque on the door informed me this was the library. I hadn’t been down to this level before, didn’t even realise hell had a library, but this seemed to be the place. I double-checked the note in my pocket. ‘Things can’t go on like this. Meet me in the library, 1pm Tuesday.’ Yes, this was right. I turned the handle and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The room looked as you would expect – much like the rest of hell. Whoever had decorated had gone a bundle on spikes, fire and mahogany. Satan had chosen an aesthetic and stuck to it. While I was waiting for whoever had sent the mysterious note, I scanned the shelves that lined the room. Again, no real surprises: the Necronomicon, The Confessions of Aleistor Crowley, Demonology for Dummies, The Complete Works of Jeffrey Archer.

The door swung open and in strode Mephistopheles. Of course it was him who had called this meeting. Anytime something went wrong in hell, Mephistopheles would be the one in the corner, grumbling and rolling his eyes.

‘Hullo, Meph. Thanks for the note.’

‘Yes, yes. Sorry about the cloak-and-dagger bit. I couldn’t reveal too much in writing.’

‘I guessed. Nice touch, writing it in blood.’

‘Well, I’d run out of ink. And it wasn’t my own blood, you understand.’

‘Obviously. So, er… why are we here?’

‘Patience, Azrael. All will be revealed.’

‘No, I mean, why are we HERE? Why the library, of all places?’

‘Ah. I see. We needed somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed and this seemed like a good choice. After all, how many of the damned would ever come down to the eighth circle for a spot of reading?’

‘True.’

The door opened again and Belial’s sharp features peered around it.

‘Is this the right place for the meeting?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Mephistopheles replied. ‘Come on in.’

Belial entered with Asmodeus scuttling behind him. Asmodeus was glancing around him as if he expected to be attacked and devoured at any moment, but that was just normal behaviour for him.

Mephistopheles gestured towards the imposing mahogany table which dominated the room. We took our seats dutifully. Mephistopheles leaned forward from the chair at the head of the table and steepled his fingers.

‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I’ve invited you all here today because things cannot be allowed to continue as they are. It can hardly have escaped your notice that our esteemed Prince of Darkness takes us for granted. He ignores the valuable service we provide in torturing the wretched and depraved, he gives us no feedback at all, he takes credit for absolutely everything that goes well and has no regard for employment legislation. We must have change.’

There were murmurs of agreement.

‘We must have change and we are the ones who can make those changes happen.’

More harrumphing.

‘I couldn’t agree more, Meph,’ said Belial. ‘Everything we say and do around here has to begin and end with “Hail Satan”. The guy’s ego is out of control.’

‘Yes,’ Mephistopheles jabbed a horny finger at Belial. ‘Exactly. We have to show Mr Bigshot he can’t have it all his own way. It’s time for us to organise. The four of us are going to form the first ever demons’ union. Satan might ignore one of us…’

‘Or incinerate one of us…’ Belial muttered.

‘Thank you, Belial,’ Mephistopheles went on. ‘But Satan can’t oppose us if we stand together.’ He thumped his fist on the table for emphasis, apparently forgetting the table was covered in spikes. His eyes began to water.

Something was nagging me. I raised my hand. ‘Er… Meph?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You said, “the four of us”. Wouldn’t we be more likely to succeed if we had Lucifer with us?’

In response, there was a collective groan. It seemed I’d said the wrong thing.

‘Azrael,’ said Mephistopheles. ‘Azrael, Azrael. You’ve not been here long…’

‘I’ve been here 87 years…’

‘Quite, quite. You’re the new boy, so you can’t be expected to know that Lucifer is not to be trusted. He’s well known in demonic circles for ruthless self-promotion.’

‘It’s not an accident that so many mortals think Lucifer and Satan are the same being,’ Belial put in. ‘Let’s just say Lucifer hasn’t done much to clear up that misunderstanding.’

‘Yes,’ said Mephistopheles. ‘If Lucifer was given a taste of real power, he’d be insufferable. He’d be every bit as bad as Satan, if not more so. So it’s the four of us. We are the reformers. We unionise, we make a list of demands to take to Satan and, if he won’t meet those demands, we vote on strike action.’

‘Strike action?’ Asmodeus looked flustered. ‘Isn’t… isn’t there another way? I mean, has anyone spoken to Satan about this? Maybe he just doesn’t realise how bad things are and he’d make some changes if he knew we were unhappy…’

‘You want to appeal to Satan’s… decency?’ Mephistopheles raised an eyebrow. There was an uncomfortable silence.

‘Well… it’s always an option,’ Belial smiled unconvincingly.

‘Demands then,’ said Mephistopheles. ‘First of all, pay. When did we last have a pay rise?’

‘1794,’ Asmodeus replied. ‘Satan agreed to a pay rise when things got busy during the French Revolution…’

‘1794,’ Mephistopheles intoned. ‘And how much has the cost of living increased in that time?’

Asmodeus punched at a few buttons on his calculator. ‘517%.’

‘Good then. So we demand a pay rise of 517%, which is perfectly reasonable in line with the cost of living. What else?’

‘What about a pension plan?’ I replied. ‘It’s all very well promising the damned eternal conscious torment, but Satan can’t expect us to go on forever, can he?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Annual leave allowance,’ said Belial. ‘I know we’re supposed to get 25 days a year but Satan never leaves us alone. Last year, I was going to Bali but we were short-staffed on the morning – something about a crush at a Barry Manilow concert – and Satan wheedled at me until I gave up and came in to work.’

‘And what about workplace safety?’ Mephistopheles asked, opening his arms dramatically. ‘Hell is riddled with iron spikes, lakes of burning sulphur and ravenous serpents, and where are the guardrails? The warning signs? Has Satan even carried out a risk assessment? I think not.’

The rest of us nodded and grunted.

‘So then,’ Mephistopheles was coming in to land. ‘We put all that in writing and we take it to Satan. Azrael, old boy, tidy that up and take it to the boss, will you?’

‘What? Me?’ My stomach churned. Tell Satan we were going on strike? He’d crucify me, if I was lucky.

Mephistopheles strolled around behind my seat and clapped his hands on my shoulders. ‘Azrael, I like you. I like you because you are a doer. That nasty business with the attempted break-out last month? You handled that like a master. We need doers, Azrael, and you can be the one to strike the first blow for the good of demonkind.’

I’d wondered why Mephistopheles wanted a demon as young and inexperienced as me to be part of this. Now I knew. He was going to let me go to Satan with our demands, so he didn’t have to risk his own hide. I’d been set up.

‘In the meantime, we need sign-ups. Let’s put the word out that the demons’ union is open to new members. Now for a name. I’m quite keen on the Demons’ United Malevolent Blasphemous Order.’

‘Um… Mephistopheles?’ Asmodeus hesitated.

‘What?’

‘That spells DUMBO.’

‘Oh.’