The Wish List Read Free Page A

here, anyway?”
    â€œThey were . . . blended together. One heaven of an accident,” stammered his aide-de-camp, consulting a clipboard. “The boy is a true disciple. Very impressive human cycle. Bullying, torturing animals, theft, murder. A rap sheet as long as your tail. And the dog, a real hound of Satan. Tetanus injection sales have risen by fifteen percent in the first quarter.”
    The Lord of Darkness was not impressed. “He’s a cretin.”
    â€œThe dog?”
    â€œNo, you halfwit! The boy! Unimaginative, brutal.”
    Beelzebub shrugged. “Evil is evil, Master.”
    Satan wagged a fine-boned finger. “No, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s why you’re a minion, and I am the undisputed Lord of the Underworld. You have no vision, Bub, no flair.”
    Beelzebub’s fangs quivered in his mouth. He hated being called Bub. There wasn’t another being in the universe who would dare to use that condescending abbreviation . . . well, perhaps just one—a certain saint named Peter.
    â€œThese impulse sinners have no staying power. Their life expectancy is too short for them to wreak any real havoc. One major sin and they’re gone. No planning, you see. No thought of getting away with it.”
    Beelzebub nodded dutifully, as though he didn’t get treated to this lecture at least a dozen times a millennium.
    â€œBut you give me one creative sinner and he’ll be spreading the gospel of misery for decades before anyone catches him. If ever.”
    â€œTrue, Master. Very true.”
    Satan’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t be patronizing me, would you, Bub?”
    â€œNo,” croaked a very nervous senior demon. “Of course not, Master.”
    â€œGlad to hear it. Because if I thought for one second that I didn’t have your undivided attention, I might move you from that apartment overlooking the Plain of Fire, and into the Dung Pit.”
    Beelzebub flicked a forked tongue over suddenly dry lips. Dung was all very well at work, but you had to switch off sometime.
    â€œHonestly, Master. The new boy is exceptional. Especially in his new . . . state. A bit rough around the edges, certainly. But I’m sure he’ll make a fine spit turner.”
    â€œSpit turner! We’re up to our wings in spit turners. I need an arch demon, someone with a sense of humor.” The Devil smoothed his jet-black goatee. “The other one. That girl I was planning to greet personally. Where is she?”
    Beelzebub flicked a page on his clipboard. “Actually . . .”
    â€œDon’t tell me.”
    â€œWe had her all the way through the tunnel . . .”
    â€œYou lost her.”
    Beelzebub nodded miserably.
    â€œThe one soul I tell you to look out for and you lose her. I think you’re getting a bit old for the job, Bub.”
    â€œNo, Master, no,” stammered hell’s Number Two, well aware what happened to demons past their prime. “The closed-circuit cameras are down and we have to rely on tunnel mites for information. You know how unreliable they are, especially if they’ve been chewing soul residue.”
    Satan sighed. “Excuses, Bub. That’s all I’m hearing. Excuses. We have all the technology. Limbo surveillance, the ectonet. And here we are relying on the gibberings of some inebriated tunnel mites.”
    â€œMyishi assures me the system will be back online shortly.”
    Satan scowled. “Do you know how much that technophile’s soul cost me? A fortune. And he can’t even fix a few monitors.”
    â€œSoon, Master—”
    â€œNow! I want that errant soul found. It could just be snagged on a stalactite in the tunnel. If it’s up for grabs, I want it grabbed.”
    â€œBut, Master,” protested Beelzebub. “A lawyers’ convention bus goes over the edge of the Grand Canyon this afternoon. We’re expecting a bit of a