Asmodeus peeked out from under the table. The bar, now empty, felt eerie. Tomb like. Even the jukebox had fallen silent as if to respect the dead. With his thoughts jumping about like a stone spinning across glassy water, he opened and closed his mouth several times without managing to speak.

‘Let's get out of here’, he heard Pyriel say calmly. Then she added, ‘I’m driving, and I will choose the next spot.’ Asmodeus nodded. Foolish he was, but not stupid.

As they approached the Mustang, he could hear police sirens in the distance getting louder.

He got in. Pyriel waved her hand. The engine started, purring like only a V8 can.

Looking determined, Pyriel thrust the gear selector into drive. Blue smoke billowed from the screeching tyres as she floored the gas pedal. The power of the acceleration forced him into his seat while catapulting the Mustang into the darkness.

‘Yahoo,’ he heard Pyriel shout triumphantly as the fresh night air rushed into the car, brushing against his cheek, and ruffling through his hair. By the time the car reached the intersection, he spotted the speedometer clocking 65mph. Buildings and cars flashed by in a blur.

***

Pyriel loved the night. Even more so in modern days. Night was so much more than the opposite of day to her. Darkness, an enigma of the unknown, would bring out the strange, the weird and of course, the horny. Angels, sworn by oath and conditioning to protect humans from evil and demonic influence never had a chance. Her mind continued to drift, travelling back centuries to Noya who had often pointed out: “How can you protect something from itself?” Noya. during her short existence, had concluded what took Heaven and Hell millennia to admit. Humans had free will. Humans had lit the fire and continued to work tirelessly to keep it going. Of course, Demons were extremely happy to help stoke the fire, but humans had the ultimate power to keep it alive. In her opinion, the last four hundred years could attest to that. The seven deadly sins had become a joke in her mind. Too broad. Dated. Along with the ten commandments which in her opinion needed to be increased to no less than one-hundred-seventy-three and needed to include stupidity, ignorance, and the lack of common sense. Humans referring to themselves as ‘intelligent beings’ often made her chuckle. Believing such statements to be nothing more than an oxymoron. She knew the moron part to be correct.

She loved people watching. Unlike ants, people just appeared to be running around aimlessly. Continuously searching. Wanting more. More power, more wealth, guidance, answers, love, and forever questioning, everything.

Can humans ever be content? She had often wondered.

‘It’s amazing how far humans have come in the past two hundred years.’ Asmodeus piped up while gazing out the window.

Huh? Where did that come from? Pyriel wondered while trying to remember when last, they had shared a meaningful, somewhat intellectual conversation.

‘What you mean?’ she asked.

‘You know, all the advances in technology, science, medicine. It’s like humans are playing a perpetual game of tug-o-war. Two teams. One works tirelessly to improve and extend life while the other works equally hard to find more efficient ways to kill the other. In a way it reminds me of us. And how many millions of years did it take the so-called councils to figure out what will be will be? As I keep saying: Shit will happen. Ready or not.’

Intrigued, Pyriel decided to poke the bear. She knew that philosophy had never been Asmodeus’s strong suit.

‘So, what are your thoughts on the knowledge of all ages then? Do you think it would make a difference?’ she asked.

‘You mean the knowledge that was lost after Adam and Eve were expelled from paradise.’

‘Yup, that one.’

‘I heard about a bunch of whack job angels —, um —, what did I hear they called themselves again? Oh yes, the visionaries of the earthly realm,’ Asmodeus exclaimed, looking pleased with himself. ‘I heard they decided to box up all that knowledge in what they called the ark of the covenant. I heard they presented the ark to some group called The Templars. Word is that the Templars read the scrolls, freaked out and decided that humans weren’t ready for such knowledge. Apparently, they buried it, and as far as I know, it’s still missing. To be honest it all sounded a bit farfetched to me. Why? What do you know about it?’

Smiling to herself, Pyriel wondered if she should lie, saying she knew less than him, or reveal one of her most sacred secrets. After a short deliberation she continued.

‘After we met, and my disciplinaries, I began to question things. I was tired of simply following orders. So, I decided to do some research.’

Asmodeus shouted. ‘Research?’ His face was bathed in astonishment, his mouth gaping as he turned to Pyriel. ‘Pyriel, the scholar? Does anybody know about this?’

‘No, and I will cut you into tiny pieces if you ever utter a word to anyone about it.’ Pyriel’s thunderous expression and icy tone left little doubt about her seriousness.

‘Fair enough. Not that I have anybody to tell it to,’ Asmodeus said solemnly but quickly reverted his attention. ‘So, tell me more about your – research.’

Believing that Asmodeus would keep her secret and ignoring his sarcastic undertone, Pyriel continued.

‘I began studying heavens lore and found evidence of the existence of the knowledge of the ages. Apparently, it’s like an encyclopaedia of answers, including science, art, engineering, cosmetology, origin, and the works. I also found references that forbids, punishable by eternal damnation, the knowledge to be passed down to humans. I couldn’t find any evidence that it had already been passed down, but I did find various mentioning’s of secret societies like the Templars, Free-masons, and Illuminati being in possession of heavenly artefacts that could be used to conspire against heaven and the church itself. I never found any details. Some pages mentioned that if the information were to come out, it could shift the balance between good and evil.’

‘Really? More than drugs and money already do?’ asked Asmodeus in a gloomy tone.

‘Not sure, but I do agree that drugs and money have corrupted humans more in the last hundred years than the army of hell ever did, — ok, maybe apart from the dark ages.’ Pyriel shuddered. ‘Let’s not talk about that.’

She continued for several blocks without a word being spoken. Asmodeus appeared deep in thought.

‘What the hell?’ Pyriel cursed as their riveting, and somewhat intellectual discussion was brought to an abrupt halt. A police cruiser, it’s lights flashing, and siren honking was motioning her to move over.

Pyriel shouted in frustration. ‘Really? Now? Can this night get any worse…? I wasn’t even speeding. ‘And I hate cops. They have no sense of humour. They’re like overgrown schoolyard bullies with guns. I’m seriously not in the mood for this.’

Pyriel slammed on the brakes and pulled the Mustang to the curb. Cursing under her breath she yanked the gear selector lever into Park. The engine died after she clouted the steering wheel. Mumbling more obscenities, she watched the officer get out of the car. Having donned and adjusted his cap, he approached. His right hand rested firmly on the grip of his service weapon while his left waved the beam of his torch over the Mustang.

Pyriel wound down the window.

‘Good evening ma'am.’ The cop shone the torch directly into Pyriel’s face, bathing the Mustangs interior in bright, dazzling light.

‘Hello officer, how can I help you?’ asked Pyriel in an overly sweet flirtatious voice.

‘Your licence tags appear to have expired. I need to see your licence and vehicle registration,’ the officer demanded.

Pyriel was dumbstruck. After they had both driven recklessly, thundered through red light intersections, and been involved in an accident, she would be the one to get stopped for an expired licence? There truly is no justice in this or any world anymore, she thought. Pyriel stared incredulously at the officer.

‘Ma’am, I smell alcohol on your breath.’ The officer leaned in closer, sniffing. ‘Have you been drinking?’

Pyriel huffed. She had no idea if the stuff they drank was even worthy of being called whiskey, not that she cared.

‘Please officer, can’t you just let us go. I will sort out the tags tomorrow. I promise.’

‘Ma’am I need you to step out of the car, now.’ Pyriel turned to Asmodeus.

‘A little help here please.’

Grinning from ear to ear, he gave her a phlegmatic look.

‘You’d better comply with the officer's request my dear. I’m sure you’ll be OK.’ Asmodeus gave her a patronising wink before he added in a sardonic tone. ‘I mean you’ve only had about eight or nine drinks and I’ve seen you drive far more drunk than you are now.’

Fantasising in gory detail how she would wipe that smirk off his face, Pyriel gave Asmodeus her best drop dead and rot look.

‘Ma’am, I need you to get out of the car now,’ repeated the officer. His tone more official, less tolerant.

Cursing Asmodeus and all demons under her breath, convinced that Heaven and Hell were conspiring against her getting a decent drink tonight, Pyriel got out of the car. Asmodeus, ever the opportunist, changed the radio station. She knew he hated the Blues, which she loved.

***

Sitting in the car, Asmodeus beamed with glee as he continued to watch with great interest.

‘Ma’am look at me’, the officer ordered, ‘I need you to follow my instructions.’ He pointed the beam of the flashlight along a straight line between the pavement slabs. ‘I need you to walk along this line.’

What’s she doing? Asmodeus stared in confusion as Pyriel began to shuffle forward, wiggling her bum to an out of tune rhythm only she seemed to hear. She’s walking like that orangutan I managed to get drunk by giving him oranges filled with Whiskey. Oh man, that’s just nasty. She’s scarring me. I should be looking away. I can’t. It’s got me hypnotised. Oh Shit. Some things can’t be unseen. Now I am scarred for life. Thank goodness I made her wear underwear. Hehe, he’s not looking happy. This could get uglier. If that’s even possible.

Thoughts of Pyriel’s theory that all police officers, who successfully completed their training, would be forced to undergo surgery to remove their sense of humour flooded Asmodeus’s mind. This one certainly gave her theory merit, he thought.

‘Ma’am, what are you doing?’ the officer shouted at an uncooperative Pyriel who was now standing on one leg shaking her torso from side to side while giggling. ‘Just walk, and only walk, in a straight line,’

What the hell is she doing now? Just walk. Are you trying to skip? Seriously, what’s that hopping on one leg about? You’re going to hurt somebody.

Asmodeus watched with growing discomfort as Pyriel continued her jocular display of walking, skipping, hopping, and finally attempting what looked like a pirouette to him.

That’s not going to end well. Oh shit!

Asmodeus gasped as Pyriel lost her balance. Her legs twisted and knotted. She let out a loud screech and fell. Coming to rest on the pavement in a starfish position while laughing uncontrollably.

The officer, looking irate, came over bellowing. ‘That’s it, I’m taking you in.’

He grabbed Pyriel by the arm and tried to pick up the squirming and giggling heap she had collapsed into. On the third attempt, without any help from Pyriel, he got her to her feet. Red-faced, thunderous expression with blue, throbbing, veins protruding on his forehead, the officer manhandled Pyriel back to the cruiser.

‘Get in,’ he commanded as he opened the rear door.

‘Oh baby.’ Pyriel turned to face the officer. ‘I love it when you take control and become all bossy,’ she said playfully. Then winked and puckered her lips.

‘Ma’am, if you do not get into the car right now, I will use my taser.’ With his lips tightly pressed together, the policeman grabbed his taser.

‘Seriously, you’re no fun.’ Pyriel stared at the officer with contempt. He, in turn, pointed the Taser at her forehead. Sighing loudly, Pyriel snapped her fingers.

The officer's body dropped lifelessly to the floor. Straining his neck, Asmodeus glanced across to where the cop lay in a foetal position. He appeared content and peaceful, with a small trickle of drool running down his chin.

With a thunderous expression, Pyriel slammed the cruiser's door shut and stomped back to the Mustang. The engine started with a wave of her hand. Forcefully she thrust the selector into drive, punching her foot hard onto the gas pedal. Asmodeus said nothing. He knew when to shut up. Afterall, she had threatened to shove her sword up certain inconvenient places before and after what he saw tonight, he preferred not to call her bluff.

With the tyres squealing in protest, spinning as they fought for grip, Pyriel swung the steering wheel around. The rear of the Mustang weaved violently. Thick blue smoke bellowed into the air as Pyriel, without indicating or checking, merged the rocketing car into the traffic. Smiling contently, Asmodeus heard loud shouts, tires screeching, and curses emanate from startled drivers who honked their horns as the Mustang shot out in front of them, narrowly missing several vehicles.

With a baleful expression, Pyriel sped through a busy intersection. Asmodeus glanced back as he heard more cursing and shouting as several people dropped their grocery bags and ran for safety.

Smiling to himself Asmodeus pondered: Let’s hope our next watering hole has decent whiskey and is less adventurous. Ah shit, who am I trying to kid. I live for these nights out. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so they say. So, c’mon bring it on…