“That’s a lucky cat statue,” Billy says.
“Neko means cat,” Lucifer says. “And don’t be confused. This particular lucky cat statue is unique.”
“What does it do?”
“It waves.”
“Well,” Billy says, “sure.”
“Technically the gesture is supposed to represent a form of beckoning.”
“Huh,” Billy says.
“Ideally, it does not do anything else. Ideally, the Neko sits on a shelf in Hell, doing nothing. Beckoning. This was the state of affairs until two weeks ago, when Ollard saw fit to divest me of it.”
“He … divested you of it?”
“He stole it. He stole the Neko and placed it in his tower. It is crucial that it be retrieved. Part of my function is to retain possession of certain items that would have unfortunate effects if they were used by human beings.”
“Uh. Define unfortunate effects.”
“The Neko beckons,” Lucifer says. “It beckons endlessly. It does not require a source of energy. This makes it”—he pauses to contemplate—“abhorrent to this world’s thermodynamic laws. Once fully in this world the Neko’s surplus energy will be given off as heat. Since the Neko has, effectively, an infinite amount of surplus energy, it has the potential to produce an infinite amount of heat.”
“Infinite heat is bad?” Billy asks.
“Infinite heat means that you are starting a fire which can be neither extinguished nor contained.”
“That sounds bad.”
“Nothing could stop such a fire,” Lucifer says. “It will burn until it has consumed the entire atmosphere. It will burn until it has consumed the combustible matter that constitutes this planet and the life on it.”
“Oh,” Billy says.
He takes a moment and tries to let this sink in. He momentarily reviews all the things in the world that qualify as combustible matter, tries to think about them vanishing into fire. Vietnamese spring rolls. The Black Flag T-shirt he bought fifteen years ago, which is now the most comfortable item of clothing he owns. Anil’s Xbox. Anil himself. Denver. Everyone. And at that point his capacity to imagine the annihilation of all earthly endeavor fails.
“Why would somebody want to do that?” he asks, quietly. “Torch the world?”
“I do not know what he hopes to gain,” Lucifer says. “It could be some sort of necromantic rite, a bid to attain godlike supremacy. The thanatotic power released by murdering a world would be substantial; Ollard may be able to put it to some use. But his ultimate aim is obscure to me.”
“So, wait, why aren’t we dead right now? Like — is Chelsea on fire right this second, or will it take a while to really get going?” Billy asks, hoping that maybe he can add supernatural fire to the list of things that might kill him at some point in the future but that are out of the range of his direct control, like global warming, or the world’s collective failure to develop a superpowered laser to blow up giant earth-threatening asteroids.
“The Neko has a set of protective defenses. When taken out of Hell, a set of six seals sprang into place around it. Until those seals are dispelled the Neko technically has not entered this world; it exists effectively in a sort of limbo. Over the last two weeks Ollard has dispelled four of these six seals.”
“Four?” Billy says. His stoned brain tries to calculate a percentage. “That’s a lot,” is what he ends up with.
“The remaining two are — challenging,” Lucifer says. “They may thwart him. They will, at the very least, slow him down.”
“Slow him down?” Billy says. “Can’t you — stop him?” A pleading note that he isn’t entirely fond of has entered his voice.
“I intend to stop him.”
Billy feels a surge of hope. “You’re going to save the world,” he says.
“There are challenges involved. Ollard knows that I seek the return of the Neko, and he has prepared accordingly. He has thrice-warded the tower against me. I can’t enter it. I can’t get within five hundred feet of it.”
“So—” Billy says. And then he stops. He does not plan to be the one who completes this thought.
“So that’s where I need you,” says Lucifer. He clicks again and a picture of Billy comes up. It’s from earlier that night: Billy standing on the subway platform, with Lucifer’s business card in his hand. Billy jumps a little in his chair, seeing this.
“William Harrison Ridgeway,” Lucifer intones. “I task you with this objective. Enter Timothy Ollard’s tower, retrieve the Neko, and return it to me. At the completion of this objective you will be rewarded. The challenges involved will be minimal.”
“Minimal?” Billy says. “The most powerful warlock in the eastern United States, and the challenges will be minimal? He’s powerful enough to make an ugly tower invisible to eight million New Yorkers? Powerful enough to steal some dealie from out of Hell and do the thrice-ward thing you were talking about? If he can fuck with you then what’s going to stop him from hitting me with a lightning bolt or — you know,” he churns the air with his hands, “killing me in some other wizardly way?”
“Well, he’s not a wizard,” Lucifer says. “He’s a warlock.”
“Yeah,” Billy says, “but the important part is the Me Getting Killed part.”
“He won’t kill you. Ollard has warding powers, but I have ones of my own. I can ward you against him.”
“That would work?”
“It will work,” Lucifer says.
This is crazy, Billy thinks. He does not think about what it would be like to get his book published. He does not think about reconciling with Denver. He thinks This is a good way to die.
“Billy,” Lucifer says. “I care about this world. I do not wish to see it come to harm. I need your help.”
“Man,” Billy says. “Aren’t you supposed to be evil? Why aren’t you asking me to do some evil shit that I could say no to? Why do you care about the world anyway?”
Lucifer looks at Billy for a long second.
“You know what I do?” he says, finally. “I tempt people. I’ve done it for a long time. I like it. I’m good at it. And if the world goes away there will be no people left to tempt. There will be cinders and there will be ash. And looking at cinders and ash for the rest of eternity strikes me, frankly, as no fun at all.”
“I have to think about it,” Billy says.
Lucifer looks at his watch. “How long do you think you’ll need?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. How long do we have?”
“Maybe a week,” Lucifer says, after taking a moment to pause for some kind of calculation.
“Okay, then,” Billy says. “I had a long day. I’m tired and I’m high and even if I weren’t it’d still be a good idea to sleep on it.”
Lucifer watches Billy’s face, reading something in it, then says, “As you wish.”
“Let me do the reading, get that over with, and then after the reading I’ll have a decision for you.”
“After the reading,” Lucifer says.
“Yeah,” Billy says. “But I don’t necessarily mean the second I step down off the stage. I mean, like, a while after.”
“I am reasonable,” says Lucifer. “I agree to these terms.” He closes the laptop and stuffs it back in his messenger bag, swaps it for a manila folder. “I’ll leave you with these for your review.”
Billy takes the folder. Inside is a printout of all the PowerPoint slides. “Uh, thanks,” says Billy.
“Until after the reading,” Lucifer says. As he turns to go, something nags at Billy, some question that Anil raised.