“That’s because he knows,” said Lucifer. “Didn’t I tell you he was playing you? He either knew who you were all along, or he has an inside source feeding him information.”

“Or access to a supernatural ability of his own,” I suggested. “You weren’t there. It was not normal. Maybe he was even a company flunky in disguise checking up on me. If Themis ordered a silent performance review -”

Lucy continued tapping away at his keyboard. “They have rules against that.”

“And since when do we have a monopoly on breaking them?” Not that I knew what all of them were. Providence had a lot of rules, and it didn’t matter how long I kept this job for - there was no task dull enough it could compel me to read through the company policy documents. “I mean, you’d have to be a literal saint not to, and even they can’t keep up with all the stupid requirements.”

“Granted. Add it to the list.”

I fumbled with my swivel chair until the jammed wheel gave out enough to allow it to be pushed backwards before seizing up again. Still seated, I trundled it brokenly around the desk until I could see Lucy’s face. “You know I can’t walk away from this, right?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“Okay,” I said, reaching over and locking his computer before he could react. “What’s bothering you? I’m venting here. I expect venting etiquette applied on the part of the listener.”

He turned to face me. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been planning something big and avoiding my questions.”

“Yes I have,” I said easily. “There’s a good reason for it, and I’m planning on telling you about it when I can. Soon. Give it a couple of days.”

Lucy frowned slightly. “That’s a gamble that might cost us down the line.”

“Cost me, you mean.”

“I’m not so sure,” he said. “Other than poor communication just being a bad idea in general, something came up while you were off on your fool’s errand.” Unlocking the computer, he brought up a ticket and gestured at the monitor.

I peered over his shoulder. A priority task. Request to meet with Lucifer. Meeting requests didn’t normally come through the task system. “So someone found an accurate grimoire,” I commented. “You know if you answer this the summoning ritual will be all over the internet in hours.”

“It won’t. Look at who it’s coming from.”

Squinting at the screen, I made out a familiar-looking appellation. “Well, it’s either the pope, or that bigshot philanthropist who flies around with the drone army making crappy nature documentaries. They have the same name, both of them ride around in vehicles with titles no one can take seriously, and I don’t know why either of them would want to contact you.”

“It’s the pope,” he clarified, looking a little bemused. “About as far from philanthropy as we are from democracy. But you’re right. I can’t imagine why he’d want to meet.”

“Ego big enough to think he can exorcise you? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Not this one.” Lucy liked to keep tabs on the popes, as well as the popes-in-waiting. “He always struck me as being the pragmatic type. More than that, things are starting to happen that ordinarily wouldn’t. I’ve seen this before and I think something big could be brewing.”

And given our line of work, when things went out of the ordinary, it was something we sat up and took notice of.

“It’s a little soon to go that far,” I said, even though the same thought had occurred to me. “These are so far just small blips.”

Lucy shrugged. “But you see why it would help to know what you’re up to,” he said. “The timing is coincidental.”

I frowned. “It is. But whatever’s going on, if there is anything going on, has nothing to do with me.”

“That you know of.”

“You think fate is coming into it? Fate’s dead.”

“It’s one possibility,” he mused. “Worth looking into, in any case. There could be a potential opportunity about to open up. Sheds an interesting light on your encounter with Mr Lien, don’t you think?”

We shared a look just a hair’s breadth on the safe side of conspiratorial.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. There was nothing to be gained by getting ahead of myself, and I had my own schemes to take care of before worrying about getting caught up in Lucy’s.

The pope had access to a vast library of religious and occult texts, I knew, and it was to be expected he’d have access to knowledge detailing methods of summoning the devil. In the old days, Lucy might have found himself forcibly torn across reality on the whims of some would-be sorcerer, with no regard given to his personal schedule. These days, attempted summonings just showed up on the task list. It looked like this one might have bypassed the vetting process, too, because I couldn’t imagine Themis’ team allowing the pope access to Lucy, or vice-versa, without some serious questioning taking place first. I suppressed the urge to reach over and quietly change the priority setting to its lowest option to draw less attention, and a moment later Lucy himself did just that.

“This is impressive,” he said, indicating a few data points further down the description. “Ritual sacrifice, altar desecration, a touch of alchemy. Some very nice sigilwork, and I like what they’ve done with the candles even though it wasn’t necessary. He’s really pulled out all the stops.”

“Could use an update,” I sniffed. Not even the pope had access to more modern occult secrets, it seemed. Such was the tyrant’s success at stamping out competition in the field. The use of alchemy in particular was annoying, because it was clearly trying to be less ancient, but had really only ever been the fax machine of the scientific world; inefficient and outclassed by basic chemistry. But you couldn’t really expect anything progressive from an institution whose main brand angle was overbearing tradition.

“Smart, though. And… a little concerning. He’s had the Call. He knows how to reach us via official channels. But this shows he’s trying to bypass them. As moves go, it’s risky.”

As the tyrant’s most infamous public representative, incumbent popes were entitled to a single one-on-one phone call with the chief executive, just to clear up any longstanding queries and handover notes the previous pope might have neglected to pass on, which was usually the case since the title of pope tended to end at death. The Call had a strict duration of three hours, ever since Pope Boniface VIII had abused the undeclared time limit to keep it going for forty-nine hours while a team of cardinals presumably poked him with the pointy ends of their crucifixes whenever he started to fall asleep. A lot had changed since those days, but the Call was a tradition that, like the popes, had somehow survived the ages and several major corporate restructures.

This particular pope, Pope Grace I, had been in the job for about four years and wasn’t known for making waves. Because of that, I hadn’t paid him much attention.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Turn up with a coatful of live grenades?”

“Hmm. Tempting, but I was thinking more along the lines of going armed with blackmail material. Better for building trust. Besides, multiple grenades are hard to come by at short notice.”

I didn’t believe that last part for a second. Our travel cards had limits, one of which was lack of access to military stockpiles and gun shops. If I knew Lucy, though, he would have a mental shortlist of unofficial suppliers on hand for every imaginable good or service.

“How short a notice are we talking? I’ve only got half an hour before my shift ends and I still want your opinion on Yun-Qi.”

“You don’t need my opinion, you need a lead. And you already have one of those.”

“I don’t want to see Eris,” I complained, making a face. “Last time I ran into her she punctured my eardrum with a paperclip, and it’s at least in my top ten most painful experiences.” Far from being punished, all that had happened was that management banned paperclips from the office and everyone had to receive their task lists on loose sheaves of paper until computers came in. Infighting, as a general rule, wasn’t much discouraged in Providence, as long as it wasn’t aimed at management or resulted in long-term injuries. Nobody was at risk of being fired, after all. It resulted in some interesting indirect effects.

There were stories. Every few hundred years, the bubbling pit of communal resentment normally kept at bay by the catharsis obtained from leaving passive-aggressive notes in whatever passed for the kitchen boiled over completely, and Providence would closer resemble a warzone than an office. I’d only been around for one of them, a three-month affair that had seemed like utter insanity at the time and which I now looked back on with a fond sense of nostalgia. I’d never been a big fan of war, which the Vikings hadn’t appreciated very much, but if there was anything that made you want to pick up a battle axe, it was being trapped in red tape purgatory.

Lucy grinned. “I do remember that. It wasn’t entirely undeserved.”

“Yes, well, incompetence is only funny when it isn’t on our side,” I grumbled, resisting the reflex to cup my ear at the memory of the incident.

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny,” said Lucy. It seemed to shake him out of the remnants of his bad mood. “How about a deal? I’ll go with you to see Eris if you provide backup with the pope.”

I gave him a sideways glance. That was exactly the kind of thing which could push me over the edge into a demotion. “Sounds like a pretty lousy deal.”

“Well, I can’t let the reputation go to waste. I can promise it’ll be fun.”

It was tempting. “How long can the pope wait?” I asked. “Just my luck, he picked the one day Themis discovers the concept of consequences.”

Lucy checked his monitor. “There’s a nominal time limit of twenty-four hours, but we can invoke the new moon loophole –“

I gave him a look.

“- theoretically indefinitely,” he concluded. “But he is in the middle of a kneeling vigil, so his mood’s probably going to get worse the longer we wait.”

“Not as bad as his knees will,” I said. “Sure. Make it tomorrow, and I’m in.”

“On the caveat you tell me what you’re up to.”

Tez’s test was tonight, and with luck our infiltration would be as well. At which point the risks I would be subject to would have largely changed. I did want a chance to mess with the pope. “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I conceded. “Before the pope visit.”

“It’ll do,” he agreed, and locked his monitor. “Now let’s catch Eris before end of shift.”