I found a mask made of flesh in my grandpa's attic. Now the devil and I are waging war on a pantheon of eldritch gods.

Just joining us? I recommend starting at the beginning.

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“What’s this obsession with the apocalypse?” I shouted over the chaos of the pool. The water sizzled and hissed and I realized it wasn’t bubbling. It was boiling. “After all of this concern over eldritch monsters attacking us, why end our world?”

“Oh,” Lucifer grinned, showing a row of jagged teeth. “I don’t plan on ending our world at all.” His eyes blazed with a searing intensity, their flames licking the corners of his face. “On the contrary, Andrew. We’re going to end theirs.”

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"End theirs?" I bellowed, spitting blood from my mouth. “How?” The pool was everywhere now, wet and horrible and its force threatened to unseat me from my horse. 

"You and I," Lucifer called out, as great bat-like wings sprouted from his back, "Are going to wage war." He said the last word with a heavy helping of theatrical flair, doing the fiery-eye thing again. 

“Hang on, this is my hallucination and I want answers!” 

He afforded me a wink, and then launched himself out of the pool and into the void above, generating a shockwave that sent a tsunami of blood rolling toward me. Panicking, I pulled at the horse's reins, as if it could outrun the wave of death descending upon us. It gave a neigh of defiance, and before I could curse the beast, the blood swallowed us both.  

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I opened my eyes to a spider spinning a web. I blinked, recognizing the rotting wood on the ceiling above and the smell of rat droppings. According to two of my five senses, I was back in my grandpa’s attic. I let loose a sigh of relief. The attic wasn’t my favorite place on earth (probably not even top ten), but it sure beat the boiling pool of blood. 

I sat up with a groan and rubbed the side of my head. My brain felt like it’d just been mugged by an elephant and run through a blender, and my arms and legs didn’t feel much better. I was alive though, so that was pretty neat. 

“What a trip,” I muttered, hoping grandpa had some tylenol in his medicine cabinet. I took a moment to gather my bearings and make sure I was 100% hallucination-free. It seemed the responsible thing to do before moving priceless artifacts down flights of stairs.

Thankfully the attic appeared much the same as before: plain and boring. No left-over puddles of blood. No conspicuous hoof prints. And best of all, no charismatic goat-legged monsters recruiting me to join Hell’s rendition of Seal Team 6. 

There was, however, still the mask. 

It lay beside me, looking every bit as fleshy and crusty as I remembered. I picked it up and gave it a good glare. I really couldn’t be certain, but I had my suspicions that whatever toxins had taken root in this house originated from within it. The mask looked to be a thousand years old. Maybe more. It probably was covered in a bunch of crazy, ancient bacteria. 

“Andrew?” my dad’s voice called from downstairs. 

Damn. Knowing my father, he was probably wondering why I hadn't yet managed to move a single box. I really didn’t feel like explaining it was because I just spent the better part of two hours on an acid trip, courtesy of an ancient skin mask. 

"One second," I called back. Lord, my throat felt dry as a bone. What I really needed right now was a cold glass of water and a nice long nap. Maybe a plate of pizza.

Still, I signed up to pack this room and I wasn't gonna eschew my duties this late in the game. 

"Andrew!" my dad snapped. 

"Heard you the first time," I said, rolling my eyes. I crawled my way to the stairs with some difficulty, managing to get my hands and jeans just as dusty as everything else in the attic.

When I reached the hatch, I peered down at my father who was dressed in a blazing orange autumn sweater, staring up through a mop of grey hair, arms tightly folded to his chest. He looked halfway between pissed and confused. Not exactly a new look for him. 

“What’s up?” I said. 

“Were you expecting company?"

“Company?” I rubbed my eyes with the bottom of my hand. God, I felt like a sack of bricks. “Is Aunt Muriel here?” I hoped not. 

“No.” He glanced down the hallway, as though somebody there were coaxing him along. “There is, however, a rather large horse in the yard.”

That seemed a bit odd. “Whose is it?” 

“That’s just it. The gentleman says it’s yours.”

My heart slammed against my chest. “Which gentleman?”

A figure strode into view, with slicked black hair, a fine white suit and two astonishingly blue eyes. I’d never seen him before in my life, and somehow I already hated everything about him. 

“That’d be me,” the gentleman said with a voice of velvet. “Long time no see, Andrew.” He shot me a wink. “You’d be surprised at how long it took me to find this place. Usually I’m quite good with directions but this neighborhood is such a maze. It doesn't help that every house looks identical."

“Y-you,” I stammered, my body and mind strangely feeling whole and well again. I pushed off of my hands and knees and got to my feet, staring down at the man and desperately wishing I was somebody else, somewhere far away. “What’s your name?” I said with a level of panic in my voice. Please, I prayed, let it be Bob, or Frank, or John. 

“C’mon, Andrew." He laughed, looking from me to my father (who was looking positively lost), then he spread his arms wide and declared jubilantly. "It’s me, Lu!” 

I nearly fainted.

Lu gave the stairs a pat. “Why don’t you come on down and we can finish sorting out the deed for your horse?”

My father took a big breath and puffed out his chest. “Sir,” he said in a voice dripping with counterfeit authority. “I think now is neither the time nor the place for you to be selling horses. We’re cleaning--”

“Yes, yes. Cleaning out an old man’s belongings,” Lucier waved a hand at him dismissively. It was an action my father was familiar with, and also one I knew he wouldn’t take well. He'd slugged men for less.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” my dad insisted. He rolled up his sleeves, as though preparing to wrestle the devil out of the house. Of course, he thought Lu was just a greasy horse salesman and not the lord of Hell. 

“Dad!” I sprang down the steps, three at a time. “It’s fine! Honestly. I’ll deal with this.”

“Let's hope that you do,” Lucifer said darkly. "I don't have the luxury of loafing around. Really, none of us do. It's high time we got a move on."

“Thank you, sir," my father said triumphantly. "I’m glad you’ve finally acknowledged how busy we are. Now, please leave a number where you can be reached and be on your way.”

Lucifer peered at my father through narrowed eyes. It was the sort of look one reserves for gazing at things they find ridiculous in some way or another. “When’s the last time you looked outside?” Lu said. 

My father narrowed his eyes back at Lu. “When you arrived with that bloody big horse. You've made enough racket that half the street is out on their doorsteps!"

“Right,” Lucifer said, strolling to the far end of the hallway where a window sat behind floral curtains. He gripped the curtains and pulled them wide. “Tell me what you see.”

My father looked at me, his face a mixture of uncertainty and agitation. I gave him a nod of encouragement, since apparently my whole family was getting in on this insanity. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

My father approached the window like the thing was a bomb ready to go off. He stepped gingerly, walking up next to Lucifer and giving him a glance of suspicion before peering down into the yard. “I see a big horse,” he said flatly. 

I heard a whinny and a clop of hoofs. His assessment checked out. 

Lucifer shook his head. "We all see a big horse. Try looking at the sky." He reached out a hand and gently tipped my father’s chin up.

My dad scowled, no doubt off-put by a stranger so brazenly touching him. To his credit though, he didn't swing at Lu. Instead, he squinted.

Then, his eyes grew wide. "Good lord," he muttered, slack-jawed.

Lucifer gave me a crestfallen look. "Yes," he said to my father. "It's quite bad, isn't it?"

I took a step forward. "What's quite bad? What's out there?"

“Well," my father began, running a horrified hand over his face. "There's some awfully dark clouds coming in. Bit stormy out there, isn’t it?” He looked back at me, moving Lu's finger from his chin. “Best get a move on with that packing, Andy, don’t want to be moving priceless artifacts in the rain.”

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah, dad. Of course.” I gazed at Lucifer, feeling more than a little lost. Was my father supposed to have seen something? 

Lucifer, not at all helping my confusion, now looked positively elated. “Yes,” he sighed. “Bit stormy. Many clouds. Such a shame. Listen, give me and Andrew here a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

My father glanced between the two of us, then back out the window at the horse below. I heard another whinny. “Alright,” my father said. “Sounds fair. Nice meeting you, uh, Lu.”

“Likewise.”

When my father had vanished down the steps, Lucifer rubbed his hands together hungrily. “Alright, looks like we’re in the clear.”

“The clear?” I said, excitement in my voice.

“The clear!”

I beamed. “Thank God!” My entire morning had been nothing but horrible event after horrible event and it was a relief to get some good news for once. I let out a sigh of relief. For the first time in hours my body wasn't buzzing with stress and panic. It felt good.

“Wait,” Lucier said, taken aback. "You seem too enthusiastic about this."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

He scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "A deep question. There are plenty of reasons."

“You said we’re in the clear.” My smile faded. “So no… apocalypse, right?”

"What?' Lucifer laughed, eyes darting from me to the window. He ran a hand over his slicked hair. “Oh, Andrew. Unfortunately, the apocalypse isn't really a choice anymore. It's that or death."

"But you said--"

"What I meant by 'in the clear' was that we'll be able to proceed without distraction."

"Distraction?" Fudge.

"As in, the average person will have no idea what's going on!" He strode over, wrapped an arm around me and steered me to the window. He drew the curtains back, and I looked down at the green lawn below. Upon it were a variety of moving boxes, an apple tree, and a horse colored black and blue, with a swishy tail of stardust.

It was my horse, so I waved at it. In response, it whinnied, shook its mane, and clapped its hooves. I wondered if it liked carrots.

"Do I get to name it?" I said, looking for a silver lining in all of this.

"Unfortunately no," Lucifer said. "It does, however, get to name you."

That seemed a bit backwards to me, but I'd also never adopted a horse born in the pits of Hell so I wasn't about to argue protocol. 

“Look at the sky,” Lucifer instructed. 

I did. Then, I screamed.

I then continued to scream. In fact, I screamed longer and harder than I've screamed in probably my entire life. I'm not ashamed to admit that it took me a full ten seconds to stop screaming. 

"Andrew?" my mother called with concern. "Everything alright up there?" I heard her footsteps on the creaky landing below.

"Just peachy," Lucifer called back. For a moment his eyes blazed with fire, and he uttered another word that scraped along my bones. "No need to come upstairs. Keep packing."

"Okay, will do!" she shouted back cheerily. Her footsteps retreated from the landing, returning to the room she was working in.  

I shuddered. “What in the name of fucking Christ is that thing?”

"Language, Andy!" my father roared from downstairs. "Have some respect for the house you're in!"

“That,” Lucifer said, ignoring my father. “Is Gos’sloth.”

I blinked, my breath coming in panicked heaves. “Gos’sloth?” Timidly, I approached the window again, drawing the curtain and looking skyward. A black shape swam amidst the storm clouds. “That girl you mentioned?”

“No, that was Bartrise. This is that guy I mentioned.”

Two eyes the size of moons opened in the swirling black cloud of doom. They were pure white, and they were peering down at me. “Nobody else can see him?”

Lucifer leaned against the window sill, looking at the rows of townhouses on the street. Some of the people stood on their doorsteps, but they weren’t concerned with the massive void above. Rather, they were gossiping about my horse. 

“Nope,” Lucifer said. “Which makes our job easier. Less panic. Less wacky conspiracy theories.”

Looking at the eldritch creature sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed. “So what's…  Gos’sloth doing here?”

“Oh," Lucifer said lazily. "I suspect he’s come to devour the memory of this reality.” He looked down at his well-manicured nails and wrinkled his nose. “That way, once his sister Batrice finishes annihilating us all there’ll be no spell in existence to reverse the process. No memory, no magic, no resurrection. It's a thorough extinction. Much better than what I had planned.” 

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Like I said,” Lucifer smiled. “We’re going to wage war. Well, more specifically, you’re going to wage War, being said horseman of the apocalypse. I’ll be directing from HQ.”

“HQ?” I immediately realized what a silly question it was. Headquarters was obviously Hell. 

Lucifer nodded. “A McDonalds down the street. It’s been a long time since I’ve come topside, and Abbadon -- an employee of mine -- has been raving about something called a Big Mac for almost a century. I think I’d like to try one.”

“I actually prefer Quarter Pounders,” I said, taking another look up at Gos’sloth.  My stomach twisted into a knot. "Any chance you could push that Big Mac back until we're done with this guy? I'm not sure I'm quite up for this."

"Up for what?'

"You know, waging war on a cosmic being devouring the memories of our reality. I mean, I've only just started the job today, and I think I'd feel more confident if you weren't at McDonalds."

"Ah. Well, luckily you won't be waging war alone. If you were, that'd really be more of a duel which is much less exciting." Lucifer tapped the glass of the window, and I noticed three horses of various color schemes trotting down the road. Atop them were three riders, all dressed in various sets of plate armor.  “That'll be your soldiers.”

One of them was waving at me. I waved back. The rider then made a lift-y gesture with his hands, and I shook my head unsure of what he was asking. 

Lucifer cleared his throat. "Allow me." He reached over and unlatched the window, then pushed it up. He stuck his head out. "Go on, War can hear you now!"

The rider gave Lucifer a thumbs up, and Lucifer pulled his head back in so I could stick mine out. "Hullo," I called awkwardly.

"Salutations!" one of the other riders shouted. She was atop a red horse that looked much too large for her, and wore a helm with a tall feather at the tip. Her voice was harsher than rocks in a woodchipper. "I'm Conquest!"

"Nice to meet you!" I shouted back.

The rider beside Conquest waved her arms in an airy sort of motion, her eyes closed and expression content. She didn't bother with a helmet, and her white hair was happy for it: wild and billowy, it danced in the air about her as though caught in some localized wind. If her face didn't look two centuries old, she might have actually been quite pretty. "Beautiful day for a bloodbath," she grumbled. "You can call me Death."

"Lovely name!" I called back, blushing.

The last rider I recognized as the first to have waved at me. They were dressed in a offensively puke-green set of armor, and sat atop a horse equally pukey. As the rider moved down the street, the lookie-loos on the doorsteps all plugged their noses and returned inside, taking care to shut their own windows in the process.

“Andrew!” the pukey rider called. His voice was obscured by the helm, but I thought it sounded familiar. Uncomfortably so. 

“Yes?” I hollered back.

“Have you finished packing my things?”

Oh. 

“Not yet,” I said with a half-hearted wave. 

Oh no.

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