The Devil’s Retreat
Satan sat hunched by the sulphurous hearth, ticked off that Christmas lights and decorations were already being put up in the towns and villages. Halloween hadn’t even been yet. He sucked on a finger, zapping sparks to his tongue, but even that failed to shift his depression. Rain and grey skies didn’t help his mood. “This is my time of the year. How dare they hijack it.”
Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel looked on non-plussed. They were familiar with his sulks, but this particular funk had settled upon Satan with such darkness they decided some divine intervention was required.
"Fancy a bit of soul stealing?” asked Uriel.
Satan zapped a spark at him, but didn’t reply.
“C’mon, it’s expected. You can’t sit and wallow. You gotta get pro-active.”
Satan growled such a deep guttural roar the space around them shuddered. “And become a trick or treater? Give in to commercial manipulation? Never! I’d prefer to sit in and watch re-runs of the Exorcist and the Omen.”
Huge plumes of fire rose from the floor and licked the walls. Gabriel exhaled a cold breath and extinguished them. “We’ve got to do something, guys. He’ll wreck the place otherwise.”
Michael preened his wings with sharp talons and picked off a couple of singed feathers. “Change of scenery?”
The fallen angels looked at each other, variously nodding and shrugging. Satan glowered at them. “Where? Where would accept us at this time of year?”
Raphael exchanged looks with Uriel. “If you can’t beat ‘em, why not join ‘em?”
Satan’s horns stood out with even more prominence as he raised his brows. “Say what?”
“Santa’s grotto, as elves – seriously, just think of the opportunities. No saints or hallowed souls to interfere once midnight chimes – and it usually lasts twelve days.”
“And all the Christmas wishes we could destroy, you could have a ball,” said Gabriel.
Satan huffed. “It wouldn’t be the same. It’s all that Jack O’ Lantern’s fault, hopping around pumpkin patches, sucking up to the witches and the grim reaper. Souls are meant to be mine.” He stood up, flicked back his tail so it thrashed the brimstone floor and sent sparks flying. “Mine! I need rejuvenation. We must settle with the lost souls and wait for Halloween.”
The four angels nodded. “Ol’ red eyes is back,” whispered Michael.
“Where we goin’ Boss?” asked Uriel.
“The one place that never changes, the permanent hell on earth,” Satan bellowed. Each of the angels flapped their wings in agitation. Satan’s eyes glowed. “To Walmart.”
