004.021

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Eva wiped a handful of sweat-soaked dirt from her forehead. The sounds of fighting died off. Except for the goblin things. They apparently still needed to be taught at what point to cease tearing the enemy apart.

“All targets down, commander.”

Nodding at her lieutenant, Eva surveyed the battlefield with a small smile on her face. Everything had gone far better than she had hoped. With direct orders, her soldiers were not as bad as she had originally thought.

“Any injuries?”

“One of the dullahan-bears suffered minor injuries before we could defeat the insect. It isn’t a major wound, but it might be a good idea to keep him in the back for the next few engagements.”

All of her headless bears were lumbering towards her position. It didn’t take long to spot the injured one. He had a large red streak running from his shoulder down to his paw. It gave him a slight limp, but he was otherwise unaffected.

“And no one can heal? Or mundane first aid?”

“Not unless you can.”

Eva frowned at her lieutenant, but nodded. Being able to heal most minor cuts in the blink of an eye and larger wounds with some effort and a bloodstone had made learning first aid significantly less attractive to her. And she had no potions.

Which wasn’t so bad, actually. Eva considered herself far from squeamish, but there was something off-putting about the idea of dumping liquid down their headless necks. And that was assuming potions would work on them in the first place.

A moot point, as it did not change the fact that she didn’t have any.

“Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Nothing comes to mind, command–”

Another vampire-cat–the one that was supposed to be on lookout–dropped down between them, giving a rushed salute to Eva. “Enemy force fast approaching from behind.”

“How many and from which direction?”

Her lookout whipped an arm out, pointing towards the street behind the burnt out building they had just fought within. “Coming up the road. At least seven, possibly eight.”

Eva cursed under her breath. Seven wasn’t a huge number. Arachne could certainly have sent more. While they had just taken out six of the bugs, three of those had been in the initial ambush. Four if she was counting the one the goblins took out.

Retreating wasn’t much of an option. Even if they started running now, the only way to go was out along the back road. Running out the front of the building would pinch her between Arachne’s main force and her current attackers. Along the back road, they’d be forced to run and find a hiding place in some other building. And her dullahan-bears were not faster than the bugs out in the open.

“You,” Eva said, pointing towards the scout, “you’re in charge of the goblins.”

The female vampire-cat grimaced, but nodded. That was understandable. The goblins were menaces.

“Gather them up and loop them around the side. Keep them quiet and out of sight until they’re fully engaged with us. Then start taking them out, one by one, starting with the ones furthest in the back. If any go off on their own, take them out.” Eva paused to take a breath. “Can you do all that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a salute. Before her hand touched her forehead, she was already sprinting off towards the goblins.

Eva sighed. The vampires were easily the more intelligent of her soldiers. Yet she had so few.

She turned towards the third vampire-cat. “You get the bears into cover, ready to charge out and intercept the enemy. Once they’re in place, return to my side.”

“Including the injured one, ma’am?”

Hesitating for just a moment, Eva nodded. If there were eight of the things coming for her, she’d need her full force. Even if that meant fighting while injured. “Him as well.”

The third vampire-cat nodded and ran off without so much as a salute.

Eva would berate him if he survived.

“And us, commander?”

Eva glanced around the burnt building. Other than a few tipped over wooden desks on the ground floor–most of which had large holes in them from the acid spitting bug things–there wasn’t much in the way of cover. With a quick thought, she stepped straight to the second floor balcony.

At least, it looked like a balcony. The way the fire ate away some of the wood made it look like it a balcony, but the wall ran right up along the edge of the floor. Another series of desks was piled in one, mostly unburnt corner.

After looking around for a moment, her lieutenant spotted her. He jumped, gripped the side of the pillar, and bounced off straight up and landed on the edge.

Some of the charcoal cracked and fell beneath one of his paws. With feline grace, he caught himself and casually brushed himself off.

“We’ll have to watch out. They might try to collapse the floor.”

“True,” Eva admitted. It wasn’t ideal–nowhere was–but it could be made better. “If we pile up some of those desks along the walls, they’ll be a lot better than anything on the ground floor.”

“I suppose.”

“You’ll be a lot happier with more stuff between us and any globs of acid coming our way,” Eva said as she started moving one of the desks against the wall. “Trust me.”

“You’re the commander,” the lieutenant said in a tone that very clearly implied that he was only following orders.

“Alright then.” Eva finished piling a desk on top of the first before turning to the vampire. “What would you do instead?”

The lieutenant kicked one desk against the opposite side of the burnt-out opening in the wall with a grunt. “I don’t mean to counter your orders,” he hedged, “but between your teleportation and our natural graces, we are highly mobile.”

Eva gave a quick aside glance to the ground floor of the building. The place was a mess. Pockmarks of melted wood and earth dotted the entire landscape. And they had taken out all the acid spitters in the initial ambush. Only one managed to get more than one volley of the corrosive gunk out before one of the vampires managed to shove some fire down its throat.

Her bears were almost assembled by the looks of things. Two were well concealed behind a stack of boxes near the edge of the building. The vampire-cat assigned to the task appeared to be directing a third to a spot.

“That might work for me,” Eva said as she added another desk to her barrier. “I can step straight to their opposite side, but even a cat can’t dodge raindrops.”

“Like I said, you’re the commander. I don’t presume–”

A cry cut-short interrupted their work.

Eva whipped her head down to the source. The vampire-cat directing the bears had routed. He ran at full speed back towards their balcony. In a single jump, he cleared the distance.

Feline instincts did not help his landing. He rolled. Hard. A chunk of floorboard fell away from the more charred area of his landing. As he came to a stop, it quickly became apparent why he failed to land.

His arm was slowly being eaten away from the elbow down. Glowing green acid dripped from his wounds.

“They’re here,” he ground out.

With a quick ‘I told you so’ glance towards the lieutenant, Eva threw herself against her makeshift barrier.

Four of the four-legged two-armed dog-kind-of things charged in. Each one sniffed the air once before charging at the two bears that had yet to make it to cover.

Three of the acid-spitters squirmed around the corner immediately after. The worms spotted Eva and her vampires in a split second. All three opened their flat maws. The dull pink gave way to rapidly brightening green.

Hundreds of droplets splayed out, momentarily bathing the entire building in a bright green glow.

Eva gripped her downed vampire by his good shoulder and yanked him behind cover just as the first drops of acid started landing. A few droplets splattered against the carapace covering her hands, but it fizzled out before penetrating the tough chitin.

The lieutenant took advantage of the brief refractory period of the worms to fire off a handful of thaumaturgical fireballs.

After wasting most of the respite ensuring that the soon-to-be armless vampire was out of the way, Eva only managed to get off a single fireball. It left a nice blackened spot on the segmented skin of her target, but nothing more.

Practicing enough to get her fireballs to act like napalm and actually stick to the target might not be such a bad plan in the future. She was fairly confident in her ability these days to catch clothing on fire, but the bugs didn’t wear any.

The second volley of acid hit; most of it aimed at the wooden wall.

She couldn’t tell how much actually disintegrated. None of it got through the thick wooden desks. As she waited for the last of the droplets to land, Eva started to build up a large amount of fire between her claws.

Eva returned fire. Her first and largest ball of flames went straight down the wide-open gullet of one of the worms.

The worm coughed once, releasing a cloud of green-tinged smoke. It tried to spit, but most of the gunk merely dribbled out of its mouth and down its chest–not that the worms had actual chests.

It tried a second time, achieving the same results. Unfortunately, none of the acid dribbling out onto its chest appeared to do it any damage.

Unable to continue watching, Eva ducked behind cover for the next volley with a loud shout. “Where are my goblins!” It wasn’t a question directed at anyone so much as a simple cry of frustration.

Her lieutenant answered with a shrug.

The world answered her in another manner.

A loud rumbling shook the already decrepit wood of her building. The floor and walls trembled.

An armored beetle the size of a school bus charged down the back road, running straight past the battlefield.

Her goblins were clinging to the back, futilely trying to stab through its armored plating.

They all crashed into an adjacent building, sending even more shockwaves through the floor.

“That thing will collapse our building, commander.”

As she clipped the top of one of the worm’s head with a ball of fire, Eva shouted, “I know! Acid spitters first, then we can be mobile.”

With a grunt of acknowledgment, the lieutenant sent a constant stream of fire out of her raised hand. None of it actually reached the worms, but with it, he completely obstructed the next wave of acid.

Eva used the extra time granted to build up another large ball of fire. Twisting it and condensing it, a basketball sized handful of fire compressed to a baseball.

She took an extra moment aiming.

One worm opened its mouth to release another bucket of green goo. That is when Eva struck.

Her aim was true. The moment the ball of flames disappeared down the worm’s throat, Eva released all control of the fire.

The bits and pieces splattering over its comrades could have been art.

The other worms, unfortunately, shrugged off the scattered acid without the slightest scalding. The dog-type bugs had no such immunity. The bug closest to the exploded worm all but vanished in a cloud of green goop. Unfortunately, the dullahan-bear fighting it was right up in close melee.

It could fight without a head perfectly fine, but losing its upper body was apparently too much.

That extra moment had been a moment too long. A splattering of acid landed square on Eva’s shirt.

Using her claws, Eva tore the damaged garments clean off her body before the acid could eat through enough to cause more than cause bright red spots on her skin.

“One left,” Eva shouted. Technically two, but the one was still coughing up acid rather than spraying it across the battlefield.

As soon as the final splatters of acid from the latest volley hit the ground, Eva’s lieutenant dropped from the second floor down to the ground.

A leg of one of the overturned desks snapped off under his weight. He snatched it up and broke into a full sprint.

Eva leaned around her barrier and started flinging as many fireballs as she could, not caring about aim or fire strength. Just so long as she kept the acid spitting worm’s attention off of her lieutenant. So far, it wasn’t working very well.

The worm opened its mouth, aiming straight at the lieutenant.

The constant pelting of flaming pebbles did have an effect on the remaining bug-dog things. Two of them managed to get distracted long enough for the bears to gain a small advantage. Both bears body checked their opponents. One went splaying across the ground with a loud screech. The other held its ground.

The final dog was fighting her injured bear. Fighting might be too kind of a word. The bear was spread across the ground, being picked apart by the sharp overhead talons of the dog.

At least it was too stupid to run and assist its comrades.

Eva’s lieutenant managed to slide behind one of the more intact desks just as the droplets of acid turned the surroundings into pockmarks. He didn’t wait half as long as he should have before resuming the charge against the worm.

With a few well-placed fireballs. Eva successfully disrupted the worm’s next attack just long enough.

The lieutenant sprung into the air. He brought the long shaft of wood straight down onto the worm’s head.

It went straight down to the ground, still squirming.

With a hard kick to the flat end of the wood, the lieutenant drove the stake down into the ground, pinning the worm’s head.

He wasn’t finished yet.

Even though Eva had been the one to teach them, all of the vampire-cats managed to use far more potent flames than Eva. And the lieutenant put those flames to good use.

After a constant stream of fire, there was nothing left of the worm but charcoal.

The fight wasn’t done. There was one worm left.

It reared up like a cobra and slithered towards its downed comrade.

Eva stepped straight to her lieutenant’s side, interposing herself between the vampire and the coughing worm. It might not be able to spit any longer, but it was coated in the acid.

Using her claws, Eva raked straight from its open jaw to the floor. The worm split open, releasing a pungent, caustic odor.

As her arm dragged through the worm, her back protested. She let out a short cry, accidentally inhaling some of the stench.

Eva stepped away, back behind her line of dullahan-bears, gasping for breath. A pain drew her attention to her fingers. The exoskeleton had warped. Like plastic stuck in an oven set too hot. The shiny black sheen had worn off to a pitted black.

Pitted in the spots where it wasn’t still covered in green acid.

Igniting her hands, Eva burned off the remaining acid. As soon as it was gone, she stepped again.

Breathing in the fumes couldn’t be healthy.

Appearing in the air above one of the dog-bugs, Eva immediately set to work taking it apart.

It was the bug attacking her most healthy bear. Might as well keep the best alive for later.

The sharp nails making up her toes gouged into the bug’s back with her entire weight behind the blow. She felt as well as heard the bones snap. The audible crack filled her with a certain satisfaction. Not wanting to take chances, Eva reached out and broke the upwards arms of the dog with her good hand.

The dullahan-bear used the opportunity to claw off the face of the bug, ending its futile struggles.

Looking around, Eva made a quick gesture to the bear in front of her, sending it to assist the other bear in beating down the one bug that had fallen. How, exactly, it interpreted her commands without a head was something she was going to chalk up to the theater-demon.

The bug that had been mauling the remains of the initially injured bear was missing.

A burst of flame at her back pulled her attention.

There was the missing bug.

Charging right through the steady stream of fire coming from her lieutenant.

The bug barreled over him, interrupting the flames, before Eva could step.

“Lieutenant!” Eva shouted.

Again, she teleported above the bug, landing on it with a crunch.

But not before its arms plunged into the floor–through her lieutenant’s chest.

Eva reached down and snapped the bug’s neck, ignoring any pain in her back. With a kick, she sent the carcass flying off of her lieutenant.

He was a mess. Two arm-sized holes reached clear through his chest. Part vampire or not, that wasn’t something that could be shrugged off. A decent amount of thick blood dribbled out of his mouth.

Kneeling down, Eva picked up his head, cradling him in her lap.

“Sorry, c-commander.” He let out a sputtering cough. “I failed you.”

Eva felt a knot in the back of her throat. “No,” she said. “You took out that worm. You helped organize my troops. I would never have reached as far as I have without you.”

The lieutenant gave a faint smile. He reached up with a bloody hand and dragged a streak down Eva’s cheek.

His smile disappeared with a look of horror. “Behind you,” he said, slumping in her arms. His hand dropped to the ground with a resounding thud.

“Rest well, lieutenant.” Eva gently set him against the ground.

Wiping away the single tear sliding down her cheek, Eva stood and turned.

The giant beetle stood stock still, staring at her. Gray splatters dotted its elytra. Probably the only remnants of the goblin contingent. Somehow, it had managed to move up right behind her without making a sound.

It let out a roar. The sound reverberated through the air, sounding as if a hundred of the beasts were shouting in unison. Spittle flew everywhere, some of it landing on Eva’s cheek.

Eva balled her fists. One hand pressed against her cheek, scraping away the slime.

And then, Eva returned its roar with a shout of her own.

It would pay.

Stepping to its back, Eva tried to slam down her foot with as much force as she could muster. She sent a spiderweb of cracks across the armored plate, but failed to penetrate.

Undaunted by its resilience, Eva ignited her fist. She manipulated the fire, twisting and compressing it as she had for the recently exploded worm. Using her good hand, Eva pried up the elytron covering one of the beetle’s wings. She dropped her fireball inside as soon as she made enough space.

And promptly stepped away.

Eva turned just in time to watch the shell snap clean off the beetle’s back. It spun through the air, end over end like some sort of oblong saw blade.

The spin carried it straight through the pillar holding up the second floor and embedded it into the far wall.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

A loud creak echoed through the building. The creak turned to a groan.

Starting at the pillar, the entire second floor collapsed along with a full half of the roof.

The bug screamed out its multitonal wail again. Its pincers swept through the building, pulping the one bear that had been brave enough to approach.

Eva shouted with it, stepping again. This time, her powerful legs punctured straight through the softer carapace beneath the wing cover. Eva dug into its carapace with her claws and other leg for dear life.

The beetle had started bucking, trying to get her off of its back.

It charged through a wall. Eva pressed herself against its carapace. Wood still scraped along her back.

Running out of time, a thought popped into Eva’s head.

She tried something she had never attempted before.

Eva had always used her hands the primary connection between her magic and the world. But she did not use a focus. Her entire body was a focus thanks to the demonic blood coursing through her veins. So what, exactly, was the difference between hands and feet?

Absolutely nothing.

The creature started thrashing wildly, more so than before. Its multitonal screech hit a crescendo as Eva felt her leg starting to heat up.

It was hard without having it right in front of her face. At the same time, it wasn’t all that different. Eva ignored the scrapes against her back, concentrating on building up the flames deep within the beetle’s back. She compressed them, again turning her fire into a thaumaturgical bomb.

After twice as long as she had spent building up either of her other bombs, Eva decided it was time. She stepped straight out of the beetle’s back to mid-air–she didn’t want to take the risk of teleporting into some debris–landing in an awkward position on top of the rubble of the burnt out house.

If exploding bugs could be considered art, this would win an award.

Viscera splattered against the walls. The entire room was painted over in a rust red. Bits of armor plating cut into the walls and debris, sending even more flying around.

Eva shielded her head with her forearms, letting the tough chitin take the hits rather than her skull. Thankfully, none of it was anything giant. Mostly just small shards. She’d be picking bits out of her arms for weeks, but at least she wouldn’t be picking it out of her brain.

The slopping noises slowly ceased as the last pieces of meat settled.

Eva slowly stood up, wincing. Her back felt like it had gone through a few cheese graters. The small cuts could be healed away, but the larger ones, especially those around her preexisting wound, were more problematic.

Looking around, Eva frowned. There was nothing left. Her last surviving dullahan-bear was nowhere in sight. It was probably among the beetle’s viscera. The acid-wounded vampire had been on the second floor. He was now buried under the rubble Eva was standing upon.

Eva hadn’t seen the vampire that had been in charge of the goblins since she initially took the goblins away. So she was probably dead or perhaps off fleeing.

Given that everyone else was dead, fleeing was probably the wise decision.

“Arachne,” Eva shouted at nowhere in particular. She raised a fist, shaking it at the empty sky. “You’ll pay for wha–”

Eva blinked.

Getting carried away?

“Yeah,” Eva mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. That damn theater-demon. I got all caught up in his nonsense.

Are the others all caught up in that nonsense too?

It doesn’t– Eva shook her head side to side. Get out of my head.

Silence answered her.

Eva looked out to the streets. She needed to get out of this domain. With Arachne, Juliana, and Genoa. If they were all caught up in the theater-demon’s act, she needed to slap them out of it.

Stepping up to a nearby roof, Eva looked around.

First, she needed to find them.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.020

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Eva was absolutely certain that Arachne wasn’t actually attempting to kill her. She was only mostly certain that Genoa wasn’t trying to kill her. Whatever the case, neither of them was messing around.

Not that Eva could blame them. They all had been told in very plain words exactly what would happen to them should they fail to perform.

Putting her back to a wall, Eva took a moment to catch her breath. Pinned between the mass of insects led by Arachne and the few but elite human mages headed by Genoa, her cadre of demihumans were not faring well at all. In fact, her soldiers were being absolutely slaughtered.

“Orders, ma’am?”

Eva glanced to the thing at her side. Some sort of vampire-cat hybrid with the strengths of neither race. He sat on the tips of his toes with his knees spread and his hands touching the ground in front of him. At least he wasn’t licking his hands and brushing them over his bushy ears.

She rolled her eyes. Like the rest of her army, and the armies of Genoa and Arachne, the construct before her was just that; a construct. Built up by the theater-demon to serve as fodder for their little war. Eva had the distinct impression that she was being made the subject of a very poor joke–her army of mutant hybrids was grossly underpowered in comparison to the other two armies.

“We need to get out from between the two of them,” Eva said. “They can whittle down each other while we wait on the sidelines.”

“So, sound the order to retreat?”

Strategic withdrawal.

“Understood, ma’am.” After a sloppy salute, the vampire-cat scampered off to relay her orders.

It moved just in time for the wooden wall to splinter inwards.

Eva dove to the side as one of Arachne’s little monstrosities barreled into the building.

The thing was disgusting. It ran on four legs, though the front two were mostly used for stability. Two extra arms stuck out from the carapace on its back, tipped with sharp claws. Teeth and bone spikes seemed to have been spread around the creature haphazardly. It had more teeth than three Arachne smiles.

It turned to her with all those teeth bared.

Eva snarled. Igniting her own claws with thaumaturgical fire, she closed in immediately with a step.

Landing on its back with a grunt, she gripped both of its claw capped arms and wrenched. Two satisfying snaps preceded a brief yelp of pain.

Early on, Eva had learned that those arms were the main danger of the creatures. They could slash out and strike in the blink of an eye. Without their attacking arms, their teeth became their only real weapon.

Their teeth and their powerful legs.

The thing reared back in an attempt to dislodge its rider, knocking Eva into some of the undamaged wall.

One jagged sliver cut into her side, right near the wound left over from Sawyer’s dagger.

Eva cried out in pain. Her hands lost their grip on the creature’s arms.

Its next buck sent Eva rolling across the ground.

Pushing herself for a few extra rolls, Eva managed to scrape by without being landed on.

It still scraped her arm up with its foreclaws as it landed. Dank breath washed over Eva’s face as it let out a roar. She winced back as slimy spittle splattered over her.

Mid-roar, Eva reached up and thrust both hands into its mouth. She gripped its lower and upper jaw, searing its flesh. With a burst of strength, Eva pulled her hands apart.

The jaw snapped open, sending more spittle everywhere.

Eva withdrew her arms and plunged eight of her fingers into eight of its eyes. Only after wiggling her fingers around did the thing finally slump over.

Right on top of Eva.

With a grunt, she shoved the carcass off of her and pulled herself to her feet.

Another of the things was eating a few of her troops. Eva had half a mind to leave them to their fates. Thus far, they had been entirely worthless in any confrontation with Arachne’s bugs.

Unfortunately, Eva had already lost a sizable portion of her allotted force and was fairly certain that reinforcements were not going to show up.

Her hands already ignited, Eva formed the flames up into balls. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the balls slinging at the monstrosity.

The flames exploded against the side of the creature, doing exactly zero damage.

The poor thing that was the creature’s current target may have taken more damage from Eva’s flames than the creature itself.

But, the flames performed their duty of attracting the creature’s attention most admirably.

It whipped its head towards her. Droplets of slime were flung from its mouth with the motion.

Eva took a brief moment to wipe her own face off before the creature charged.

She readied herself, watching for the right moment to step onto its back.

The moment never came. Eva was forced to jump to one side.

The creature continued on, slamming into the wall and knocking another chunk of it down.

Eva was about to step onto its back when a slight motion at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Four of the little goblin-lizard things that she had already dismissed as completely worthless were rapidly slinking up to the momentarily stunned monstrosity.

She paused, watching to see what their tiny little minds had cooked up this time.

Two jumped on its back and started to use their surprisingly sharp daggers to hack off its claw-arms. One ran in and gave the creature an uppercut with his dagger while the final one gouged out its eyes.

Eva frowned as they continued to hack away at the monster. The last time she had attempted to send them into battle, they had sat around picking their noses while the enemy demolished them. Not literally, but close enough.

“So what,” Eva mumbled to herself, “they learn?”

“Oh yes,” said the cat-vampire that Eva had been using as a lieutenant–Eva hadn’t bothered to learn his name, if he even had one. She almost put her fist through his face at his sudden appearance, but managed to restrain herself. “We all learn. But we haven’t been able to use your blood magic that you used to dispatch the other mongrels.”

Of course they wouldn’t be able to. They had no bloodstones. Even if they had bloodstones, none of the constructs had usable blood. They didn’t count as real or living to haemomancy.

That was part of the reason Eva was no longer using her own dagger. She only had her own blood left, which wasn’t all that high performance. It had worked for the last few monsters she had seen, but she didn’t want to use enough to go faint in the head.

“You want me to lead from the front? To charge in and teach everyone as we go?”

The cat-vampire’s face turned downwards. “We are few in number,” he said, not at all accusatory. “But we are fast. It isn’t my place to make suggestions, but perhaps we might strike from behind, eliminate a few targets, and flee?”

Eva nodded. It might have been a wise idea to speak with them before, but no sense in dwelling on the past. “Very well. Continue with the strategic withdrawal. We need a better view of what is going on before we commit.”

The lieutenant nodded and brought his hand up to his eyebrow. “Yes ma’am.”

Eva followed her lieutenant out the back door of the small tavern. There was no point in sticking around while Arachne’s army was just on the other side.

It didn’t matter how many of the stupid bugs she killed. Eva knew for a fact that Genoa and her squad-mates had killed more than a few times the amount that Eva had dispatched. As far as she could tell, Arachne had endless resources.

Apart from her one run-in with a member of Genoa’s army, the retired mage-knight had been spending almost all of her efforts fighting Arachne’s bugs. Something which Eva was beyond grateful for.

That single encounter had taken out a quarter of Eva’s army before the mage had been ambushed from behind by Arachne’s forces.

Arachne herself had thus far kept out of sight. Her army was around every corner, but no sign of the spider-demon herself.

Part of Eva was hoping that she was trying to find a way out of the situation. Honestly, Eva doubted that was the case. This was exactly the kind of situation that Arachne would find fun.

A loud crash in the distance pulled Eva out of her thoughts. She needed to focus on the now and not the past.

The lieutenant led her and her few remaining soldiers through the mocked-up western town. They stayed in the backs of buildings, pressing themselves up against the shadows. Eva moved quietly as she kept an ear out for any sign of an enemy.

Not being able to use her blood sense on the constructs was far more inconvenient than she had thought. It was a skill she should have taught herself years ago for use against regular people.

Unfortunately, most of what reached her ears was arguing. Of her own forces. The goblin-lizards were in a fight over who actually dealt the killing blow on the bug-dog-thing.

Idiots.

Eva silenced them with a glare of her glowing red eyes.

Even if they could be useful through learning–and Eva was having strong doubts about that–she would kill them herself if they brought the enemy’s attention to their troupe.

At least the dullahan-bears were quiet. Then again, none of them actually had heads, just the iconic black wisp of smoke pouring out of their necks. They might be quiet out of necessity rather than intelligence.

How intelligent could headless bears be anyway?

“This should be safe enough for now,” Eva’s lieutenant said. His two cat ears twitched in the air. “I don’t hear any skittering nearby and my ears are quite good.”

Eva frowned as she looked at the building. Unlike most of the rest of the town, it wasn’t made of wood. A large shadow of the nearby water tower darkened the heavier gray bricks that made up the building. There was no glass set in the window frames. Just bars. “The town jail? Of course it is, what else would it be?”

Glancing at her lieutenant, Eva noted that the vampire-cat just looked confused. He wouldn’t know about her usual residence. Well, he might if Juliana had told the theater-demon.

In fact, thinking about it more, there was no chance that this was a coincidence. The theater-demon planned this. If not this specific outcome, then to have the lieutenant direct Eva to the prison if she asked for a safe place or a base of some sort.

But, nothing to do about it now.

Eva walked in, checking for any sign of traps around the doorway. There was nothing.

Her forces followed her in as soon as Eva moved out of the way. They settled in with plenty of space left over despite the fact that the entire building was smaller than her women’s ward common room.

Regarding her soldiers with a dour expression, Eva felt herself frown once again.

Six goblin-lizards, four dullahan-bears, and three vampire-cats were all that remained of her initial force of about one hundred. And one demon-human, if Eva counted herself. Absolutely zero of the angel-crabs had survived.

“Your orders, ma’am?”

Eva turned to her lieutenant and considered for just a moment before speaking. “What, exactly, is our objective?”

It was more of a question to herself than to her lieutenant.

First and foremost, she needed to get Juliana and escape from the theater-demon.

Not exactly the most achievable task at the moment. She hadn’t even seen the theater-demon since he dropped her off on one side of the old western town. He had disappeared, leaving only the words ‘try to put on a good show and maybe I won’t keep you here forever. Kill one of the others, and whoever is left gets to go free.’

So, Eva supposed, it might be prudent to properly fight Genoa and Arachne. Though she had no intention of invoking the second aspect, she could put on a fighting show at least.

Her lieutenant opened his mouth and mirrored her thoughts. “To defeat the enemy, of course.”

“Define defeat.”

“To fight until they can’t fight back?” The lieutenant cocked his head to one side. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

Eva nodded. “Which among you would serve as the best scouts?”

Her three vampire-cats all stood slightly straighter than they had been standing. “With our hearing and natural agility, we easily surpass the others.”

Eva nodded again. That was expected, though she had been hoping that the goblin-lizards could camouflage themselves somehow. The vampire-cats was probably for the best anyway as they had shown off a far greater mental ability than the goblins.

Not, however, great enough to avoid three of her initial six from perishing at Genoa’s mages’ hands.

“If I order you to scout, are you going to run off and die? Do I need to teach you how not to die?”

The three glanced at one another before the lieutenant turned back to Eva. “I think we can handle that. What do you need?”

“You two,” Eva said, pointing her long fingers at the non-lieutenants, “go out and scout. You are to keep yourselves alive at all costs. You’re looking for pockets of Arachne’s forces–those are the insect-like creatures–somewhere on the edge of the battlefield. No groups larger than five or six. Return when you’ve found a suitable group.”

Both saluted. Before they could carry out their orders, Eva spoke again.

“And if you find Arachne, return here immediately.”

After nodding, both sprinted out the jailhouse door. Eva watched them scale the side of a building and run along the roof in opposite directions of one another.

“And me, ma’am?”

Eva turned to the sole remaining vampire-cat with a smile. “You and I are going to train up this sorry lot,” Eva said with a wave of her hand towards the goblins. “As much as we can in our limited time, anyway. And we’re going to find out what, if anything, the bear-things can do.”

— — —

Arachne tapped her fingers on the edge of her throne. This was something she could get used to.

Well, she could if it were bigger. The tiny room was cramped beyond reason. Half of her wanted to shrink down into her spider form just to get some arm room.

It would be nice if everything were real, too.

It obviously was not.

If she looked close at the members of her swarm, she could see literal strings attached.

Everything here was a combination of Willie’s natural demonic abilities and his interpretation of reality through his domain. It was a pretty good usage of his domain. Arachne doubted she could come up with anything close to realistic.

It took her a good thousand years to get her domain into the rocky crag that she had it at now. It was far easier to turn it into something she had visited before but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted a place to call her own, some place that was her.

Two red blips vanished from her map. They had been inside the tavern if she was reading the infernal map correctly. Those two blips were supposed to have been scouting, not fighting.

Arachne sighed, wishing that any of her soldiers were at least capable of speech.

Dragging a pointed finger across the map, Arachne directed another soldier to investigate. It would take a few minutes for it to arrive, but the other two had likely died to Eva. Genoa’s entire force of four mages plus the mage-knight herself was already under observation by a few of her eyeball soldiers.

Still, there was always the chance those two had died to something else. Arachne couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another element at play. Something that wasn’t just the three of them.

Of course, that element would be the director of this little farce himself.

Arachne sighed as the observation unit failed to update her map. That meant that there was nothing in the tavern or that the theater-demon simply did not want himself to appear on her map.

Again, her fingers tapped against the side of the throne she had been unceremoniously deposited upon.

Directing a battle was actually somewhat fun. Not as fun as being in the thick of it herself, but fun in a different sort of way. The things similar to human computer monitors gave her a crystal clear view of anything her observational units could see.

But it was missing something. The smells. The sounds. The feel of blood splattering over her carapace. None of it existed within the small command center.

It wasn’t like she was tied to her chair. She could leave. The exit hatch wasn’t locked or anything.

That didn’t change the fact that she was stuck where she was. The map wasn’t the fold up piece of paper type of map. It was a part of the room. A whole table with models of the town and glowing representations of all of her forces. Any time one of her three observational eyeballs passed over an area or her regular soldiers sat around long enough to relay a message, the map would be updated.

Without her at the monitors and maps, her troops sat around doing nothing. Verbally directing them did nothing. Pointing and other gestures did nothing.

Only the map worked.

She had considered leaving it anyway, running out and fighting on her own was more her style. But, frankly, Genoa’s soldiers were almost on par with the woman herself and she had already been told in no uncertain terms that allying with Eva would lead to both of their demises.

Confident though she was, Arachne wasn’t certain she could fight off all of Genoa’s soldiers and the woman herself at the same time. Sure, she might be able to kill Genoa, but she didn’t like the idea that she could die in the process.

Death did not frighten Arachne. More unnerving was the thought of leaving Eva alone inside another demon’s domain.

Arachne sighed for the third time in as many minutes. They should not have left without a plan. She should have objected. Even delayed Genoa for a few minutes while they discussed a few things about demons and their domains.

And then she foolishly carried out Eva’s desire to sever the strings controlling Juliana. It had been almost reactionary. Her Eva called out orders and she moved.

Had she waited, Genoa would have been the one to notice and sever the strings. Given how Genoa was a part of their little war, it might not have changed anything at all, but at least the theater-demon’s ire would have been directed at someone else.

Shaking her head, Arachne turned her attention back to the monitors. Genoa was still pinned down beneath practically her entire army. The building was well fortified. A bank or something of the sort. And Genoa’s crew had reinforced the walls beyond anything remotely reasonable.

The eyeball drones only seemed to be able to observe from a high angle, unfortunately. Without some heavy damage to the building, she was unable to actually see inside. The only way she knew Genoa was still inside was thanks to the occasional volley of attacks clearing out any of Arachne’s swarm that got too close.

There remained a remote possibility that Genoa was tunneling out of the building. An earth mage of her caliber would have little trouble escaping. Arachne guessed that she did not wish to leave behind her few soldiers or run the possibility of being trapped underground with non-earth mages if Arachne decided to charge in.

Two blips vanished from her map at almost the same time. A third one was quick to follow. Not a big deal; they were just some of the fringe of her swarm. She couldn’t be bothered to manage all of them–her army was huge. Still, she directed her spare observation unit over to the area.

It took a few minutes to get eyes on the situation, but when the third monitor finally changed to show the battlefield, it brought a smile to Arachne’s face.

Eva had decided to quit slouching around.

Her master was in the burnt out husk of some building or other, crouched behind a conveniently placed waist-high wall to avoid acid spit–almost too convenient–and tossed fireballs with some decent precision at the eyes of another three members of Arachne’s swarm.

The balls of fire were not doing much damage on their own, but she had a few of those cat-eared monsters at her side. Eva had improved in her fireball casting since her first year, but those things at her side were in another league. They didn’t need to hit the insects’ eyes to do some damage with their fireballs.

Fireblasts, more like.

The headless bears kept Arachne’s swarm from progressing. One was fighting the same snake-like insect that was being pelted with the most fire while two mauled another of the crawling type of insects.

Arachne frowned as she took note of the final bear and final member of her swarm in the area. The rest of the situation was well in hand from an overhead perspective. Both of the other insects were pinned down and would die before long.

But the final member of her swarm was in active pursuit of the final bear. And gaining. Arachne’s little six armed bugs were surprisingly fast. They looked like they should be far slower.

Yet Eva wasn’t even glancing in the final insect’s direction.

Just as Arachne was about to direct the bug over towards Eva to force her master to take notice, Arachne started grinning.

A whole horde of green-skinned lizard things jumped from the second floor of an adjacent building. Only three of them actually made it on the bug’s back, but those three surprised it enough to force it to a stop. All the lizard things started stabbing it with little knives while the bear stopped, turned, and hammered a heavy paw into the bug’s face.

Three blips all disappeared from her map at roughly the same time.

“Oh, my wonderful Eva,” Arachne said. “You want to play?”

She dragged a finger across her map, selected a small group of her swarm. Nothing that was pinning down Genoa, just some idling fringe bugs. With her units selected, she started tracing a line through the map.

The line ended right in Eva’s flank.

“Let’s play.”

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.019

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Catherine glanced back and forth between the two arguing people. She never would have expected Baxter to take her side. The professor had not left her with the impression that she was well liked when she kicked Catherine out of her classroom the last time she got injured.

Few humans would side with a demon in the first place, though the point may have been moot. The sides were between Catherine and Ylva.

“We cannot allow her to leave. She will betray Us the moment she perceives a lack of danger.”

Catherine shook her head side to side hard enough that her currently orange hair flayed wide around her. It wasn’t exactly untrue, but at this point, Catherine didn’t care what she said so long as she got to leave in one piece. It was, however, somewhat offensive that she was viewed as being so weak.

They weren’t the ones who had Zagan breathing hot air on their necks at random points throughout the day.

“If she stays, Zagan might notice her absence. If he comes looking for her…”

That was almost certainly untrue. She was fairly certain that Zagan didn’t care about her in the slightest. The only reason he bothered to drag her around was out of some sadistic desire to toy with her.

The whole situation was his fault. If he hadn’t dragged her off to the nun rally, she wouldn’t have Ylva’s icy breath on her neck.

Eva was right. Being stuck as the bottom feeder even among the few demons in the area was a nightmare. Even the two security guards were uppity towards her.

Well, the morail was. Lucy, Catherine decided, had a tenuous grasp of reality at best. She wasn’t deliberately annoying so much as she was unaware of what she was doing. Besides, Catherine was certain that Lucy would be extremely susceptible to her succubus wiles and charms.

The worst part was Eva herself. Whatever was being done to her was obviously unnatural. When Catherine had first arrived at Brakket, she wasn’t sure what to make of the girl. Catherine could feel her, much like she could feel Zagan or Arachne. But it was faint. Barely there. Weaker than even the weakest of imps.

That weakness had been steadily turning to strength. By the end of summer, weaker imps might have fled from her presence if she had ever decided to project some anger. By the time all the golems attacked Brakket…

Well, the potential was there, but Eva had a long way to go before she wound up giving Catherine real shivers.

When she had finished growing, the little girl–the little human girl was going to walk into a world so much larger than herself. So much larger than this mortal plane.

And she was going to be strong.

Stronger than Catherine at the very least.

Sighing, Catherine leaned back in her chair while the two argued. Not that it was much of an argument. Baxter was more making polite suggestions than outright objecting to anything Ylva said. Still, it didn’t seem like they were going to kill her–permanently or otherwise–so Catherine was losing interest.

Who knew? It might be fun to stick around in Ylva’s domain. Her cellphone had no signal. It was sure to put a stick up Martina’s ass if she couldn’t get a hold of her.

Though she was missing out on virtually murdering slews of foolish humans. She probably needed a break from that anyway.

Just as things were getting a little heated between Ylva and Baxter, a new head popped into the room. Not someone Catherine recognized, though most humans looked the same as one another.

“Nel says that she thinks she found Shalise, Lady Ylva.”

“Thinks? Clarify her words.”

“I’m sorry,” the girl said with a small shudder. “You will have to ask her.”

“Very well. We shall.”

Baxter was, surprisingly enough, the first one out of the room. Ylva left next with the other girl staying just long enough to shoot Catherine a glare before turning to follow.

And then the room was empty.

Except for Catherine.

No guards. They hadn’t tied her down. They had even been so kind as to leave Baxter’s bedroom door open.

Catherine tapped her foot against the floor three times before coming to a decision. After all, if they wanted her to stay then they would have at least said something.

Getting to her feet, Catherine walked out the door. She stopped in her tracks one step out of the room. After glancing left and then right, Catherine sighed. “Damn.”

Of course she would end up in the domain. It would be too easy if the door opened up back to the apartment building. To make matters worse, Catherine was willing to bet that she could check every archway and not find the exit until Ylva was ready to let her go.

Even if the exit was somewhere around, searching every archway sounded exactly the kind of tedious work that Catherine would rather avoid. Ylva and her little entourage disappeared through an archway three arches down. If they hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have been any different from the rest of the place.

Martina had been asking about Baxter as of late–not directly asking Catherine, more of mumbling about it when she remembered that her secretary was off teaching a class. It was intensely irritating. Getting away from Martina was one of the few positives of teaching the human brats.

Maybe telling her about something Baxter had been up to would keep her complaints down, especially because it appeared that Baxter was doing the job Martina should have been doing–cleaning up after Zagan’s mess. She would have to carefully word her revelation to Martina so as to not ruin her carefully cultivated image of being unreliable and unproactive.

Having low expectations for her meant that Martina never bothered her with much of import. And that was exactly how Catherine liked it.

But she was willing to admit to a certain level of curiosity about the whole thing aside from Martina’s interests.

Following Ylva through the archway led her to a very familiar area. The waters of Hell.

And it was full of humans.

Wayne Lurcher, looking much better than when Catherine had last seen him, was standing near another human female. One who was half-standing in the waters. In the actual waters.

On a closer look, she might not have been human after all. Catherine hadn’t seen many humans naked, but she had seen plenty of bare arms and most arms didn’t have eyes all over them.

Still, standing in the water wasn’t safe. If the woman slipped and fell in, even for just a second, she could find herself whisked off to who knew where.

The woman had huge dark circles beneath her eyes. Her face was somewhat gaunt and she looked ready to tip over if a stiff breeze came her way. That only further compounded Catherine’s feeling that she really shouldn’t be in the water.

An innate, succubi sense picked up on something about the woman. She was bothered by something. And not in the simple sense of being disturbed–though she certainly was that as well.

In the end, Catherine simply shrugged it off. What did she care about, well, anyone anyway?

Everyone else walked right up to the edge of the water in front of the woman. Catherine caught up and stopped a few paces behind. She wasn’t trying to hide herself–there was nowhere to hide on the featureless beach–but at the same time, she wasn’t interested in being seen as part of the group.

“You found Shalise?” Baxter asked. “Is she alright?”

“I don’t know. I mean, her hair is the same, but…” The woman in the water brought up a hand to rub just above her eye–her regular, in the right place for humans, eye. “Did Shalise take up weight lifting? And, um, exhibitionism?”

Catherine blinked. Unless she was very much mistaken, they were talking about one of the mortals Zagan had dropped off in Hell. That meant the person was a student and Catherine was quite certain that there were no exhibitionists running around at the school.

She, of all people, would have noticed.

“Exhi–what? What are they doing to her?”

Catherine took a step forward, not wanting to miss out on hearing that explanation.

“Nothing. I mean, no one is around. I searched everywhere I could think of. It is just Shalise. She doesn’t… I mean, she’s just…”

The woman in the water cupped some in her hands and brought it up to slap against her cheeks. Some futile attempt at cooling her body temperature. After a deep breath, she started to explain.

— — —

Prax, Shalise thought to her ‘partner’ in her body. Prax, it isn’t working.

“Silence servant. I am trying to concentrate.”

Shalise couldn’t see anything but the insides of her own eyelids as Prax continued to fail at attempt number thirty-seven.

It was depressing. Sort of. Unless Prax was feeling the same emotion that she felt, she didn’t really feel anything but her thoughts. Upon reflection, that was probably the biggest reason behind her general blasé attitude and lack of constant panic. She knew, in her head, that she should be running around like a chicken with its head cut off about the fact that she was still stuck in her body with Prax in charge.

But it was difficult to care without the proper chemicals fueling her panic.

That said, if there was one thing she wished Prax would do, and that was opening their eyes. While it was an emotion that Prax was not feeling at the moment, boredom was driving her insane. Combined with the sheer irritation and anger projected by Prax, it was a very unpleasant situation.

“Stop thinking!” Prax shouted at her–there was no one else around. “Do you want me stuck inside you for the rest of this pitiful body’s existence? I could end it now and take my chances in the Void.”

I don’t believe you would do it, Shalise thought. You jumped into my body while neither of us had a soul and now it is all messed up. You’re worried about what will happen if I–if we die.

Prax’s silence was telling.

Not that she needed his silence to know she was right. Over the past however long it had been, Shalise was getting much better on picking up Prax’s thoughts. Nothing as clear as speaking, but general nudges in the right direction.

Prax hopped off the over large throne and started marching down through the castle’s corridors. He was in something of a rage. The scorch marks left beneath her feet gave Shalise an odd tingling sensation, but nothing more.

It wasn’t anything new and something Shalise had grown used to. Prax had been temperamental, to say the least, since they arrived in his domain.

So, Shalise thought, decided to change tactics?

“I think,” he said slowly, “that I will be taking a brief intermission from my attempts at escaping your worthless sack of flesh.”

Gee, thanks.

“Something cathartic sounds excellent. I have just the place.”

He turned down a staircase that descended for a short eternity. When the end finally came, Shalise found herself in the dungeonyest dungeon that she could imagine.

The upstairs castle proper had smooth bricks laid in neat, straight lines. All the bricks in the walls and floor were flush with one another. The ceiling had a smooth arch carved into it for some added height.

Ever since their initial trek through the castle, warm torches popped up periodically along hallways to lend their light. It was much better than the drab and uniform lighting arrangement that had seemingly permeated the entire place upon their arrival.

The elegant murals, paintings, and statues just added to the regal atmosphere of the castle.

Though she could definitely get by just fine without seeing the ones of her.

At first, Prax flew into a rage every time he saw one–given that they were everywhere, that ended up being more often than not. He went around smashing a few hundred of the golden statues and tearing down even more paintings. They always returned undamaged the moment he took his eyes off of them.

Eventually, Prax had decided to give up on that fruitless endeavor. He still glared at them–especially the ones of himself–every time he walked past one. Most of his time ended up with his eyes closed, concentrating in an attempt to escape Shalise’s body.

But the dungeon he had taken them to was anything but regal or elegant. The walls were less smooth bricks and more cobblestone and mortar slapped together. Particularly jagged cobblestone at that. Prax actually let out a cough as he walked through strands of white nitre hanging off the ceiling.

And the lighting. It was a good thing Prax knew where he was headed because there was the single torch at the base of the stairs and nothing else. It was probably meant to be carried along to the destination, but Prax had ignored it.

Before long, Shalise couldn’t see anything but vague silhouettes of the walls and floor. And the almost glowing nitre spider-webbing across the ceiling.

Prax’s footfalls steadily tapped against the floor alongside a faint dripping noise at the edges of her sense of hearing. He went left at the first corner, then took a right before stopping in front of a wood door.

The rotten wood of the door leaked light through small holes. Not much light. Barely enough to see that the door was made of wood.

When Prax pushed open the door, she saw the reason for the dim light. The large room was lit by a mere two torches. Both torches looked like they were on their last legs. The flames were small and dim, flickering in the room.

Shalise gave a short mental sigh. It set the perfect atmosphere for what the room was.

“At least this hasn’t changed much.”

I expected it, but of course you would have a torture chamber in your dungeons.

Prax strode through the room, gently caressing various tools and implements that Shalise was trying hard to ignore. It was a bit difficult when he started holding some of the rusted iron in front of his face.

If you don’t mind my asking–

“I do.”

What here is going to help us with our problem?

“Not a damn thing,” he said as he set down one object and picked up another.

Oh. Um. What are we–

“You are noisy for a servant. Cheeky too. I am hoping that something, or somethings, here will curtail that negative trait of your despicable personality.”

With every word he spoke, Shalise felt a sinking feeling in her metaphysical stomach.

Combined with the emotional bleed-over from Prax, Shalise had the odd sensation of being eager and happy about what could only be her own impending torture while still forcing herself to be disgusted, angry, and afraid.

You can’t torture me! Shalise thought as hard as she could. I can barely feel pain from you!

“I know,” he said. “That just means I will have to be creative.”

You’re just going to be torturing yourself!

He pulled out a thick rod from a long box and looked it over once or twice. “Should be fun. Besides, any proper servant knows how to torture their master’s enemies. I have always been a believer in teaching by experience.”

Shalise’s mind went into absolute nope mode. She did not want that rod anywhere near her body. The entire end of it, some sort of magic circle much like the one she had drawn on her chest, was glowing white-hot. Hot enough that she could feel the heat even through her diluted senses.

Something snapped in her mind. Only a vague awareness of her surroundings bled through. There was a crash followed by a shout from Prax.

The shouting turned into a constant stream of anger-speak. Nothing intelligible.

As Shalise’s mind sharpened, it didn’t take long to figure out what he was complaining about this time.

First and foremost, they were wet. A few stones in the far end of the room had come loose. Water filled the room up to their waist and–thankfully–extinguished the iron rod.

The second thing Shalise noticed was the two statues, one of Prax and one of Shalise, standing in front of her. Both of them had two hands on Prax’s arms. Even with all of his muscles, he couldn’t thrash out of their grip.

“Stop changing things! This is my domain.”

Get out of my body!

— — —

“From there, she just started thrashing about in the grip of her statue and the other one.”

Catherine blinked. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “You said she has a familiar brand on her chest?”

Everyone stopped looking at the woman whose name was apparently ‘Nel’ and turned to Catherine.

Big mistake, Catherine thought as she took a step back, half expecting them to attack.

“Who invited the harlot?”

Catherine looked to Wayne Lurcher with a sneer. “Aww, still upset about being rejected by a succubus?”

Her sneer quickly turned into a smirk. He got all flustered and everyone turned to look at him. Double win. It didn’t matter that it was a lie; the seeds were planted. Baxter was already giving him a look with one eyebrow raised.

“Lies,” Lurcher said with a grunt.

“Perhaps not in so many words,” Catherine said. She shook her hips and ran a hand down one side of her body. “Succubi are the premier shape shifters in Hell. All the better to handle what our targets want. And I,” Catherine ever so subtly flicked her eyes to the other professor–who was still giving Lurcher a look, “know exactly what you want.”

Catherine blinked in confusion. Mentioning something like that often set minds on the subject. However, she was failing to pick up anything resembling lust from the older professor.

Her confusion vanished as he took a threatening step forwards. The tome chained to his waist swung into his hand.

Catherine hopped backwards a few steps, her smile vanishing from her face. That may have been pushing it too far. She had had a brief lapse in judgment regarding the fact that she was essentially surrounded by people–none of whom would be willing to take her side and one of whom was a demon that owned the domain surrounding her.

Lucky for her, Ylva decided to step in.

“Enough.”

Lurcher gave her one death glare before snapping his book shut.

“The succubus was correct.” Ylva turned slightly to give her attentions to Nel. “The designs you described are akin to a bonding brand.”

“You mentioned that a few times,” Baxter said. “What is it?”

“One of the three ways of dealing with demons. Well, four ways, but letting the demon go free doesn’t usually end well for anyone.”

Catherine ticked off one finger of three. “Arachne and, presumably, Ylva are contracted demons. You might liken them to human mercenaries. They retain full free-will, though violating the terms of the contract leads to heavy consequences. For either party.”

After ticking off a second finger, Catherine went on. “I am a familiar. We are bound to our master’s orders. If Martina wished, she could order me never to think the word ‘the’ and I would be entirely unable to until our contract is broken–typically by Martina’s death. There are a handful of topics that can’t be ordered around, such as the ability to willingly break the familiar contract.

“For upsides, I get a long-term vacation in the mortal realm and cannot be banished no matter how many silly words are thrown my way.”

“Not much for upsides,” Lurcher muttered.

“You would be surprised,” Catherine said as she ticked off her last finger. “The bound or bonded familiar is essentially two minds in one body, leaving the human in charge. The demon gets a massive–and I have heard addictive–sense of euphoria from having its powers used, but obviously they have no real body until the human dies.”

“The bond can be broken without the death of the mortal,” Ylva said. “It is not easy.”

“But it leaves the human in charge?” Baxter shook her head. “I can’t see Shalise acting like that. She can be–”

“She doesn’t act like that normally?” Catherine cut in. She paused as something occurred to her. “Here I was considering that I might have to start talking to the human brats if that was common behavior.”

Baxter winced.

Excellent.

Catherine had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. If she could guilt Baxter back into her class, then Catherine could go back to… being Martina’s lapdog. Well, she thought with a mental sigh, at least I can sit around on the computer at the secretary desk all day.

“Are you still standing in for me?”

“I am.” Catherine made a show of pulling out her cellphone. No signal, but the clock still worked. “Speaking of, I’m supposed to be babysitting a handful of the brats while they take a test in a half-hour or so. Not that it matters of course. Just like real life, I am deciding their success by the grace of Chance.”

Baxter’s lips pressed into a thin line. Catherine had the distinct impression that the students would be seeing their old teacher in class come Monday morning.

“So,” Lurcher said, doing his best to avoid glancing at either Catherine or Baxter, “what do we do about Ward?”

“We wait. She doesn’t appear to be in immediate danger, with no one else around. If Nel would be willing to keep an eye on her and warn us if anything happens?”

The poor woman looked about ready to fall over. Her head bobbed in a resigned nod.

“Then, before doing anything reckless, I would like to talk with Ylva and,” she paused, glancing around the room. “Where is Devon anyway?”

“Resting,” Ylva said.

“Ah. He’s–”

“What about me?” Catherine tapped a foot on the sand. “Am I allowed to leave?”

Baxter and Ylva shared a look for just a moment with Baxter giving a small shrug.

Catherine’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly. That’s not good. Ylva had been the one who had wanted her to stick around.

“Zagan’s experiment will end,” Ylva said. “Should he speak of these Void troubles, you will report to Us.”

Blinking, Catherine first frowned then nodded. Zagan had initially thought that Ylva might have something to do with all the trouble, though it seemed as if he had dismissed that thought after the whole nun rally. Thinking about it logically, Ylva was a demon in the same boat as the rest of them. She wouldn’t want her power disappearing any more than Catherine.

“Sure,” Catherine said. “I can do that.”

“Ali,” Ylva said, “show the succubus the way out.”

The attendant–who Catherine had honestly forgotten about–jumped slightly at being addressed. After a moment of hesitation, she bowed to Ylva and started walking towards the exit of the beach.

With a shrug at everyone else, and a flirty wave at Lurcher, Catherine followed after the woman.

From the archway leading to the beach, it wasn’t far to the exit. She used the time considering the woman in front of her.

The mixed signals coming off of this ‘Ali’ were a sight to behold. On one hand, there was a strong yearning and desire for Ylva. On the other, hatred. Like the woman couldn’t decide between punching Ylva in the stomach or kissing her on the lips.

She might be an amusing one to watch in the future, but in the end, it wasn’t any of her business.

Catherine found herself dumped unceremoniously in the hallway leading to Baxter’s apartment without a single word from the woman known as Ali.

The alarm on her phone promptly started warning her that she only had twenty minutes to get to Baxter’s classroom. For a moment, Catherine considered not showing up at all. Baxter could deal with it. In the end, she decided to go mostly because she was in a good enough mood about the high probability of not teaching again.

Besides, she had a number of games on her cellphone that she needed to check up on.

With a thought and a jaunt through the screaming inferno of Hell, Catherine teleported straight into the classroom.

And almost tripped over a little screaming girl.

Catherine blinked. All the mortal brats looked the same. It took a minute to realize who it was.

“The little mousy girl who had her name on the test and nothing else,” Catherine said as the girl got to her feet. “I have to say, you’ve got a work ethic I can admire. I mean, your score is going to be roughly the same as everyone else’s and yet you put in absolutely zero effort. Who is the real winner, hmm? Except you are here so early. You’re not having second thoug–”

“I know what you are.”

Catherine blinked again, this time allowing her eyes to return to their normal bright red, then laughed. “After that lesson on succubi, no one said anything. I was beginning to think all mortals are fools.”

Leaning in close to the girl, Catherine took a deep whiff of the air around her. No desire, at least not for Catherine. Maybe another student? It was muted and difficult to discern who without them present. She could delve into the girl’s mind a bit.

She gave a small shudder. But ugh, mortal teenager minds.

There was surprisingly little fear. Surprising less because Catherine viewed herself as an especially scary demon and more because of how much the girl stiffened up as Catherine leaned in.

“So what do you want?” Catherine said, finally pulling back from the girl. For a moment, she had considered licking the girl’s ear simply to see her reaction. Who knew where that had been. “Bigger boobs? Shapelier hips? You’re still growing kid. You’re going to be drawing plenty of eyes in a few years. Trust me, I can tell.”

The girl’s face turned scarlet from chin to forehead.

“Or maybe you’re wanting to jump some guy’s bones? Who is the lucky guy?” Catherine snapped her fingers. “There, twenty-four hours of irresistibility. Talk to someone with some confidence and they’ll be wrapped around your little finger.”

A lie of course. Watching her scarlet face twist into panic made it all worth it. Maybe she would bring the girl back to her domain–except by the time Martina kicked the bucket, the girl would probably be far too old to be fun to mess with. She would have to settle with messing with her now.

Hooray for finding more hobbies. More things to do that weren’t obeying Martina.

“No!” The girl said. “Take it off!”

“Can’t. It’ll wear off. If you really don’t want to have some fun, just don’t talk to anyone. It works on males, females, and cats, so–”

“Cats? Why cats?”

Catherine shrugged. “Why not?”

“Look,” she said, stamping her foot. “I just want to talk with someone. Eva isn’t here and I don’t know who else I can talk to.”

Catherine rolled her eyes, making it as obvious as was demoniacally possible. “First, I’m not a counselor, kid. Unless you want help pleasuring your lover–or yourself–go talk to someone else. And even then, you mortals have the concept that demons will grant wishes in exchange for souls. That’s the fae; djinn and fairies specifically.

“Any help I give will be by experience. And I can tell you don’t want that. Go find someone else.”

“I can’t.” Her voice went quiet. Enough so that Catherine had to lean in again to catch her words. “It is about demon things.”

With a sigh, Catherine pulled out her cellphone. Fifteen minutes before the testing started. The rest of the class should be showing up soon. “Talk and I might listen, but as soon as someone else shows up, we’re done. What’s your name?”

She looked mildly offended, but nodded. “Irene. It is my friend. Jordan. He…”

Blah, blah, blah. Catherine settled down on the top of her desk for what she knew would be the longest fifteen minutes of her entire existence.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.018

<– Back | Index | Next –>

“I hope this washes out,” Eva said, tossing her sticky hair over her shoulder. No matter how much she tried to strain it out, it was like the gunk multiplied in her hair as her fingers ran through it.

Her fingers were covered in the stuff as well, so she probably was just wiping more through her hair than she was actually cleaning off.

“Better than sand,” Arachne said. She wasn’t even trying to clean herself off. The black ooze added a layer of sheen to her already shiny carapace.

Eva wiggled her fingers. Unlike the annoying grit of sand and large dust particles, the ooze… oozed out of the way as she flexed. Some of the sand left over from Ylva’s beach wound up caught in the gunk and pulled out as the rest of it moved. In that respect, it was somewhat helpful.

A short shout preceded a loud splash into the syrupy liquid to Eva’s side. She glanced over to find Genoa struggling in the liquid.

“Glad you decided to drop in,” Eva said, leaning over the side of the boat.

Arachne moved to the opposite side to keep it from tipping.

Spitting a large wad of the gunk out of her mouth, Genoa let out a sling of curses. “What is this stuff?”

“Something to break the fall,” Arachne answered. “Most civilized demons have something similar. Typically something that the demon has control over but would impede intruders.” A hint of pride entered her voice as she continued. “I use webs, of course. They entrap visitors until I choose to release them. Far superior to this muck,” she said, flinging a small amount of the goop off her arm.

Eva reached her hand over the edge of the boat.

There was a moment of hesitation in Genoa’s eyes before she clasped her hand around Eva’s wrist. An ache jolted through Eva’s back as she started to put weight on her arm. Eva winced, but did not let go.

With Arachne managing to keep the boat steady, Eva pulled Genoa up and into the boat. She lay on her back, ooze dripping off of her as she stared up at the sky.

Eva leaned back against the plank that acted as a bench. She took in a few slow and steady breaths. Zoe might have been more right than she thought. That had been decidedly unpleasant.

After a moment of rest, she followed Genoa’s gaze up to the disturbingly eye-like moon.

“So this is Hell? Not as hot as I expected.”

“That aspect has been grossly exaggerated in mortal culture. Though,” Arachne slid a finger down her own cheek in thought, “I suppose some demons play to that stereotype. Imps and other demons with high affinity towards fire.”

Genoa lurched into a sitting position and spent a moment glancing around. “So what now? This doesn’t look like a theater.”

“It is possible,” Eva said, “that we have ended up in the wrong place.” She licked one of her fingers. “Honey. Or it tastes like it. The color is wrong obviously.” Eva glanced over at Arachne. “Some bee demon’s domain?”

The spider-demon shrugged. “Don’t know of any, though that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

“So what, we jump back in and try again?”

“That,” Arachne said as she dipped a leg over the edge of the boat, “is not part of the waters of Hell.” Her voice dipped into a low growl. “I already said that this was a landing area. Somewhere in the middle of the domain, I’d say.”

“Great. Just great. So where do we go? There’s nothing around but more demon-honey.”

Eva picked up the oar. She almost pushed it through the liquid, but thought better of it and handed it off to Arachne. Best not to agitate her back at the moment. Not until it had healed more.

Arachne looked at the oar like she had never seen such a device. She looked up with the best questioning look Eva had ever seen her wear.

“No sense sitting around,” Eva said, gesturing towards the boat. “Pick a direction and get us moving.”

“I believe I have called you a slave driver in the past.”

“And I’m sure I will keep hearing that for as long as we know each other.” Eva brought a hand to her ear before swinging it straight out over the bow of their little rowboat. “Onwards!”

With a sigh, Arachne dipped the oar into the liquid.

Eva promptly punched a hole through the wooden planks of the seat in her haste to hold onto something–anything. Her other hand gripped something significantly fleshier than the boat. From the loud yelp that came from Genoa, Eva was fairly certain it wasn’t Arachne.

Her long hair was pulled almost perfectly horizontal behind her from the sheer speed of the boat as it twisted and zigzagged across the surface.

Arachne was, of course, laughing. Most of her mad cackles ended up carried off by the rushing wind.

It all came to a stop on the precipice of a hole in the liquid. Eva had just enough time to refill her lungs with fresh, unscreamed-out air before the boat plummeted over the edge.

Not a speck of light was showing inside the liquid tunnel. Had she possessed the ability to stand, her head would have been dragged through the liquid on the other side. It wasn’t that big of a tunnel. How she was managing to avoid falling out could only be explained by magic. Or demon domain cheating–basically the same thing.

Despite what it felt like, the ride didn’t last. Their boat emerged from the end of the tunnel and flattened out, moving much slower. If Eva had her sense of direction working properly, then they should be upside down relative to where they first entered the domain.

For several minutes, no one so much as twitched. Eva carefully pulled her fingers out of Genoa’s shoulder. The older woman didn’t even move a muscle.

The only sound was Arachne’s dying laughs. “Maybe I should replace my webs. That was an interesting ride.”

Ignoring the spider-woman, Eva took a few deep breaths as she glanced around, looking for anything that might ambush them while they were still dizzy.

Apart from a single dilapidated theater, there was nothing on the island. A few bright lights blinked on and off around a ‘NOW PLAYING’ marquee listing a single title.

REUNION

“What,” Genoa said as the boat pulled up next to a little wooden dock, “was that?”

Arachne let out a short laugh. “Something to disorient us. I’ve revised my opinion. The way out of the domain was probably very close to where we started. Now we’re lost and possibly trapped.”

“On the plus side,” Eva said as she raised one of her fingers to point into the distance. “That looks like a theater to me. We’re probably in the right place.”

“Reunion?” Genoa asked, earning a shrug from both Eva and Arachne. “Whatever. If this is the right place, that’s great.” Genoa smiled as she climbed out of the boat.

Arachne and Eva both climbed out after her.

“Let’s find Juliana and,” Genoa paused.

It didn’t take long to figure out why. As soon as Eva’s foot had left the boat, it started drifting off back towards the hole in the liquid.

“How do we get back?”

“Round the world and home again! That’s the sailor’s way!”

As one, Arachne, Genoa, and Eva all turned to face the new voice. All three of them dropped into combat stances.

Eva forced herself to suppress a wince. She had to shift her weight to the opposite foot.

Before them stood a man. He wore a long-tailed tuxedo and one of those theater happy-masks. Most of it was predominantly green. A sort of dark forest green. Both of his arms were spread wide and, as soon as their group was turned fully, he bowed.

A very strange bow. Everything above his hips simply went limp until his body was parallel to the ground. His arms went limp as well. They swung forward to hug some unseen ball in front of his chest. Both dropped to his side as he pulled himself back upright.

“Welcome. I am Willie, host of this domain.”

His voice was light and jovial. It had a cadence to it that almost turned it to song.

Eva didn’t like him. The way he moved and spoke was dipping into the uncanny. Based on her low and constant growl, Arachne wasn’t very fond of him either.

“Miladies dallied far too much. The show will be starting soon. You in particular,” he gestured straight at Genoa, “won’t want to miss it.”

“Reunion,” Genoa whispered. “Juliana?”

There was an almost imperceptible nod from Willie. As slight as it was, he hadn’t even finished it before Genoa took off in a half-run half-blink mad dash towards the theater.

Eva hesitated for just a moment. “You haven’t hurt Juliana, have you?”

“Milady,” one of his hands swung up to grasp his chest. “You wound me. I am a gentledemon. I would never harm my fair guests.”

“Good. Then we won’t have a problem.” Without any further delay, Eva stepped after Genoa, chasing her up the short path to the theater.

Given her head start and general haste, Genoa beat her there by a good deal.

Eva pushed open the theater doors and walked inside with Arachne hot on her heels. Inside the seating hall was nothing but empty seats. So, essentially nothing.

Only one seat contained an occupant. The theater-demon, Willie, sat up at the front. Upon Eva entering, he turned in his seat and pressed a finger across the wide smile on his mask.

Blinking, Eva glanced up towards the stage.

Juliana stood off-set to one side with her back towards the entrance. She wore a relatively simple period dress in a shade of green that matched Willie’s tuxedo.

Genoa stood off-set to the opposite side. Slowly, she stepped forwards and reached out with a hesitant hand. After a moment’s pause, her hand lowered to Juliana’s shoulder.

The younger blond spun around. “Mother,” she said.

“Juli.”

They stared at one another. Both of their eyes watered up.

As their arms wrapped around each other, both equally pulling the other into a tight hug, the theater demon started up a soft applause.

It went completely ignored by the to Rivas women.

“I missed you.”

“I am so happy you are alright.”

Mother and daughter kept pressed against one another. Both of their words started to get somewhat drowned out by the tears.

“…lost and alone…”

“…drove myself insane worrying…”

“Boring.”

Eva glanced over at Arachne who was in the midst of an extremely exaggerated yawn.

“Hush, this is a touching moment for them.”

And it was. Though, Eva had to admit to herself as their tearful discussion droned on, it would be nice if they wrapped it up sometime before Christmas.

“But,” Juliana said loudly. She turned around and moved just out of reach of Genoa’s arms. With her back facing Genoa, Juliana shook her head. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“Why not? Of course I am going to come for you.”

“Shalise and I… we,” Juliana paused and brought both hands to her chest. She turned back to face her mother. “There is something I need to tell you, mother.”

“Anything, Juli.”

“I’m pregnant.”

A heavy silence dammed any further discussion. It stuck around until Genoa broke the dam.

“What.”

“What,” repeated Eva.

“What,” Arachne said, “is the big deal?”

The theater-demon turned. “Quiet!”

“It’s true, mother,” Juliana turned her back on her mother once again. “We wanted to hide it from you. We knew you and father wouldn’t approve of our relationship.”

Genoa stepped forwards and gripped Juliana’s shoulders. Juliana flinched away as if struck.

For a moment, they stood at arm’s length. Genoa then pulled her daughter in for another hug.

“Of course I would accept your relationship. Though, Juli, I might have done a poor job explaining some things. Maybe we’ll get your father to talk to you when we get home.”

After a brief session of tears, again, Juliana pulled out of her mother’s grasp. She moved out on the stage, getting closer to the seats.

Eva’s eyes zoned in on a faint glimmer of light a short way above Juliana’s head. It took some concentration and focus before she realized what it was.

“Arachne,” Eva ordered. “Strings.”

The demon didn’t nod, she simply charged.

“Shalise. She has cancer. It started as a cough. Then blood started coming up. Now she–”

Arachne jumped. All of her spare legs swept through the air above Juliana. The shorter blond crumpled to the floor in a heap of her own limbs.

Stepping forwards, Eva placed herself between Arachne and an angry Genoa. Infighting now could be problematic with Willie standing off to the side.

At least, she expected Genoa to be angry. Eva half expected to be trampled in Genoa’s mad rush to Arachne because of some perceived threat to her daughter.

By the time Eva was on stage, Genoa had her daughter cradled in her arms.

“M-mom?”

“Juli,” Genoa said, squeezing her daughter to her chest.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“I–That’s good, sweetie. And did–”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Willie marched up onto the stage. His mask was shoved off to one side. Age lines cracked on his face as it twisted into a scowl. “It was going so well!”

His arms swept out in a wide gesture towards the two Rivas women.

“Their passionate reunion, so strongly desired.” His hands clasped together. One moved up to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye. “Yet their reunion was marred by strife, illness, and forbidden love. They had to push one another away.

“It was perfect.”

“You didn’t have to stop it. I wasn’t going to keep her. Not with that Damned ring on anyway. She even agreed to it.”

Everyone glanced down at the rapidly reddening face of Juliana. She opened her mouth to speak, but the demon beat her to the punch.

“I thought it would make for an excellent jest. Entertainment for my guests.”

Willie’s body bent at the hips, his arms dangled in front of him as he twisted his torso to face Eva. “And you just had to ruin it. They didn’t even get to the best part! Young Juliana was just about to learn that not only did her lover have cancer, but her father does as well.”

The demon had gone completely limp from the waist up. His head hung, lolling from side to side.

Eva blinked. She couldn’t see his face to even guess if he was being serious. Slowly, she turned her head to glance at Arachne.

The spider-demon had her lips partially parted in a look Eva had long since come to recognize as disgust. Every one of her legs twitched at her back while her hair tendrils jittered lightly.

In other words, murderously irritated.

“I didn’t know they aired bad soaps down here,” Genoa said from her place next to Juliana. “Though, it might make sense if a few of them came from here.”

A small seizure jiggled the theater-demon’s strings as he turned. “And you,” he said, “you were doing so well. Then ‘what.’ It wasn’t even a question! No emotion. And everything you said after that paled in comparison to your earlier, tearful meeting.”

Willie sighed. His white-gloved palm met his face. “I know I am working with amateurs here, but the least you could do is have some real genuine emotion at meeting your daughter for the first time in weeks.”

He gave a quick glance over at Juliana. “Oh, don’t worry milady. You performed admirably.”

Looking down at Juliana, Genoa gave her a tight squeeze. Juliana looked up at her with a small smile. “There are some things that are just too strange to hear. I started suspecting something around then, but did not exactly have a way to disprove it. It wasn’t until I saw the strings–and Arachne is lucky I saw them when I did or she would be short several limbs–that I realized what happened.”

Arachne gave a small scoff along with a few mumbled words.

Genoa ignored her and talked over the noise. “When we get home, there will be several talks. Some will surely be joyous reunions. A few will embarrass Juli beyond belief–”

“Mom. I didn’t think I was pregnant with Shalise’s bab–”

“And one,” Genoa said with her voice as hard as stone. Her grip tightened on Juliana’s shoulder. “Will be all about how we don’t allow demons to control our bodies. Isn’t that right, Juliana Laura Rivas?”

Juliana bit her lip–Eva could see the blood break free from her skin. Slowly, meekly, she nodded.

“I believe I asked you a question, Juliana.”

“Yes, mother. That is correct, mother.”

“Excellent,” Genoa said. She stood up, helping her daughter as she went. “Let’s get out of here and have a party–”

A deep, rumbling laughter echoed through the theater hall. “Out of here?” Willie laughed again. “Who said anything about you being allowed to go?”

Eva tensed. The moment she moved, wires drew taut around her entire body. Without a moment’s hesitation, she stepped.

There was a brief moment of freedom before more wires stretched around her body. A sharp pain shot through her left calf–straight through her hardened carapace–that would have sent her to the floor had the wires not been keeping her up. Within her blood sight, Eva could see a steady stream of her blood dripping out of a needle-thin hole in her leg.

It didn’t just fall to the ground. The blood dripped along a fine line stretching out parallel to the ground.

She had clipped herself on a wire. An idiot mistake. Looking harder, Eva could see the glint of several thin wires stretched haphazardly around the theater room.

Eva didn’t attempt to teleport again. Instead, she tried to pull on her vials of blood.

It wasn’t responding. The blood didn’t even dance around inside the vial. It stayed still and unmoving.

Eva could think of only two possibilities. Either Arachne had forgotten to dip her dagger into the shed blood or Willie was doing something.

Since Arachne had not charged ahead or stopped by to cut her out, Eva could only assume her companion was trapped as well.

Genoa was under no such complications. She charged the short distance between her and the theater-demon. Both of her daggers seemingly teleported from their holsters to her hands with how fast she drew them. An iron pole started to form in mid-air behind her shoulder, but Genoa did not wait.

As soon as she was within range, Genoa let out a flurry of slashes, jabs, cuts, and strikes.

Not a single one found her target.

Willie flopped around. The sharp blade of a dagger would home in on his eye and Willie would simply fall backwards. His back bent beyond the point where even an accomplished contortionist would be able to extend.

As Genoa reaimed her missed attack to swipe down towards his thigh, the demon slid straight to one side.

Not slid. He was dragged by thin strings holding him up. The higher points of his body were dragged first with his feet scraping along the ground to follow after his body.

Genoa’s blade did manage to clip one of the strings. Despite it being severed completely, both sides reconnected before the cut portion could fully succumb to gravity’s grip.

She jumped forward to strike again.

Willie’s head hit the floor and his feet swung up into the air. A polished shoe knocked into Genoa’s hand.

One dagger went flying. It spun end over end before landing, point down, in the wooden floor just in front of Eva.

Undeterred, Genoa gripped the iron rod out of the air and started shaping it into a blade even as she brought it down upon Willie.

Who, once again, jerked to one side as the strings yanked him around. By the time Genoa’s attack had failed, he was back on his feet.

Throughout their fight, Eva was not idle. She struggled against her restraints. Even with Arachne’s sharp claws, she was unable to cut through the wires faster than they could regenerate around her. Given that the spider-demon was still restrained as well, Eva wasn’t feeling too put out by her inability to escape.

Arachne had an extra three sets of limbs and was still trapped.

Fire did not appear to help. Burning her hands as hot as they would go only left her with a few blisters near where her carapace ended and fleshy skin began.

Both of Juliana’s arms were bound to her side. None of her struggling produced anything but small cuts against her bare arms.

A moment of silence brought Eva’s attention back to the ongoing fight.

One combatant was panting and clutching her side. A small trickle of blood leaked between her fingers. The cut was extremely shallow, nothing dangerous. Though it was less of a cut and more of a tear. She must have tried blinking herself and wound up pulling the wire out while fighting.

The demon stood still in contrast. Absolutely and totally still. His arms were crossed in front of his chest.

For just a moment, they stared at one another.

Genoa lurched backwards. Her back struck a pillar near the edge of the stage. The pillar cracked with a loud snap in the silent theater.

She hit the ground, tumbling. Wood splinters scattered around her as she turned her tumble into a lurch to her feet. She blinked.

Gone from near the pillar, Genoa reappeared right in front of the demon. Pinpoint holes appeared in her body, mostly centered around her right side–her arm and chest.

Whatever pain it caused went completely ignored as she thrust forward with her left hand, burying her dagger inside Willie’s chest.

The theater-demon staggered backwards, taking the dagger with him.

Limp and unmoving, he hung in the air.

It didn’t last. He straightened out as the strings attached to him pulled him up.

“Foolish fighting fair maiden. My delightful domain does defy any attempt at defeating me. The very world itself despises the thought of my demise. Now disarmed of your dagger, you find yourself at the villain’s devious dispensation.”

“Don’t hurt my mom!”

“Sorry, milady, but entertainment must be had.” The demon slid his mask back over his face as he turned towards the three strung up women. “A human, a spider, and a…” He turned to Eva. “A whatever walk into a domain. Sounds like the start to a good joke. And the best jokes always have an air of tragedy.

“Unlike dear Juliana, none of you have Rings of the Damned on. That means,” he broke out into a short laugh, “we can have some real fun.”

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.017

<– Back | Index | Next –>

It was no wonder that Zoe Baxter had run off. Human children were menaces. The entire lot of them.

Even the quiet ones.

In fact, they were the worst of all.

The others tended to be more honest with their disinterest. They would twiddle with their phones, or their thumbs, or simply ignore her while talking–loudly, more often than not–with their friends.

The quiet ones sat, taking notes in their notebooks. They waited for dismissal before gathering their supplies and they always turned on their homework on time.

Fools, Catherine thought, as if I would waste my valuable time actually grading their work.

Catherine had found a novel method of paper grading. Rolling a six-sided dice. The students tended to complain if their grades were lower than a seven or so, so Catherine subtracted the dice roll from ten. It kept them happy and far less likely to bother her outside of the classroom hours that she was required to be there for.

Even on occasions where they scored lower than a seven… well, at least they couldn’t get lower than a four.

In that, the students who did not turn in homework to the lowly substitute were actually ahead of the game.

It hadn’t always been like that. She used to have the students wrapped around her little finger. All of them hung off her every word at one point.

All until Mr. Anderson heard about the exciting contents of her lesson.

Catherine shot him a glare.

He just sat there at the back of the room. It was nice that he had the good sense to not pay close attention. Whatever was in that folder and notebook of his was far more interesting than what she had to say.

Which wasn’t hard to accomplish. The principles of esoteric weakening? Boring. It wasn’t even something that applied to everyday magic. If a single one of these children actually thought about esoteric weakening even once in their short lives, it would be a miracle of the universe.

It took Catherine, a magical being several millennia old, the entire first lesson just to remember what it was. That it didn’t apply to demons in the strictest sense and that Catherine knew it by a different name didn’t help.

Simply put, it was the idea that magic of the past was stronger than the magic of the present. The theories on why varied. From more mages meant less magic to go around, less ambient magic in the air over time, the fact that many powerful mages failed to share their secrets, all the way to the laughable idea that electronic technology was ‘stealing’ magic.

Sighing, Catherine flipped through the binder of lesson plans and notes left behind by Zoe Baxter. It wasn’t like she needed to watch the class while they were taking an exam. Catherine found it exceedingly difficult to muster up the energy to watch for cheaters.

Esoteric weakening wasn’t the first thing that left her wondering just what it was. A number of the items listed in the notebook had been lost to her memories.

Some of them, Catherine had never before considered. A theory to create a magical computer? The idea was only briefly outlined in her notes as an example for some older students about how innovation and invention were still perfectly viable career paths. She likely had proper diagrams elsewhere.

It used large blocks of enchanted quartz–the material held the magic intensive enchantments long enough to be useful for a short while. While it wasn’t intended to do anything but add a few numbers and report the outcome, it was only the start. Electronic computers had started somewhere similar and look what they had become.

According to those notes, Baxter had thus far been unable to actually get just her basic adding working, but the idea was novel. What was more, Catherine could see a way to get it working. Well, a possible way to get it working. She would have to test it first.

Being employed by Martina gave Catherine a unique perspective that she doubted many other demons possessed. As such, she could see the potential in a magical computer. Electronic computers could be hooked up to massive machines of destruction. And machines of massive destruction. If a magical computer could be hooked up to large enough reserves and be given the agency to cast spells similar to tome-type foci…

Well, that was a far cry away from what Baxter had outlined in her notes.

Catherine placed the binder back down on her desk. The clock ticked by slower and slower with every second. Even an eternal being could feel the effects of time.

These days, Catherine found herself with plenty of time to think. As busy as the mortal realm was compared to the usual empty state of her domain, almost everything here gave her something to think about. Her domain gave her endless time with peace and quiet, but nothing worth considering.

This, Catherine decided as she rested a hand on the binder, was what Eva was talking about.

She couldn’t see much reason to want the computer, at least not as it was, but there had to be something. With the professor gone, it was the perfect time to snoop around her apartment and go through her belongings. There had to be something worthy of learning in there.

If the professor could come up with something as unique as a magical computer, she would have come up with plenty other fascinating ideas.

The bell ringing startled Catherine out of her thoughts. She didn’t allow it to show on her face, of course.

Slowly, Catherine rose to her feet. She placed one hand on her desk, leaning over slightly. The class had lost interest in her lessons since Mr. Anderson showed up, but ever so slightly leaning brought plenty of attention her way.

It helped that her shirt didn’t cover much even while seated normally.

“Place your essays in a neat and orderly pile on my desk. If you failed to finish, I am required to babysit you for up to one hour on Saturday. That group can pile their essays on the lectern.”

Four blushing boys dropped off their papers on the lectern.

Fools. The test was easy enough that anyone who did not finish absolutely had to have intentionally failed. They knew that she was required to babysit them. Probably hoping for more personal interactions. As if she would lower herself to their levels for anything other than utter domination.

Then again, they looked the masochistic type. They would probably enjoy her presence even if she ignored them entirely.

Catherine’s lips curled as a thought occurred to her. Hiring out a goblin to stand in as her substitute might be good. An especially ugly goblin.

Everyone else dropped off their papers at her desk. They filed out the door, some giving brief farewells while others walked out talking with their peers. All except for one student and one adult.

Catherine glared at both.

Who to address first?

One was a student and, by definition, had nothing important to say. The other was Mr. Anderson. Catherine doubted he would have anything important to say either. Probably more complaints. Likely about how she was dressed.

Again.

It wasn’t like she could help it. Succubi didn’t normally wear clothing. Even wearing the thin scraps of cloth she had on felt chafing.

And he knew it too. He insisted on bothering her about her nature.

He didn’t give Lucy half the crap he gave Catherine. Lucy couldn’t pass for human if Void depended on it. There were already plenty of rumors around about how she was some monster hired on because of budgetary reasons.

The stupid students were closer to the truth on that than they could hope to imagine.

Compared to Lucy, Catherine was Jane Normal the perfect–if immodestly dressed–human.

And yet Anderson had the gall to attack her on a daily basis about every little thing.

“Well?” Catherine growled out far harsher than she had intended.

Now she had gone and made herself angry. She quickly shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her eyes were the hardest part to keep human in appearance. Catherine was fairly certain that she hadn’t ever slipped in front of the students–there were no rumors about her after all–and she had no intention of slipping up in front of a student while Anderson was in the room.

Catherine waited for just a few calming moments before speaking again. “What do you two want?”

Let them figure out who would talk first.

The two glanced at one another. Anderson put on a sickeningly suave smile–one that a few incubi that Catherine knew might be jealous of–and gestured with his hand for her to speak.

She didn’t speak right away, instead fumbling with a sheet of paper in her hands. The back had a distinctive diagram.

The exam.

“Um, I just wanted,” she said. After a few unintelligible words, she started trailing off. With a glance up at Anderson, she shook her short brown hair side to side. “Nevermind.”

She ran up to the front of the room, dropped the exam on the lectern, and sprinted out the door.

As soon as the door swung shut, Anderson gave a look.

“You’re too intimidating,” he said with a shake of his head.

Catherine grit her teeth together. “She left because of you. Obviously,” Catherine injected some sultry vibes into her voice, “she wanted me alone.”

The polite smile on Anderson’s face vanished in the blink of an eye. “I hope you are joking. In case you are not, I will say this once and only once. Insinuate such things about the students again and you will be forcibly removed from this plane of existence.”

Putting on an amorous smile, Catherine slid around her desk and walked up to him with a sway in her hips. She placed a single finger on his shoulder and ran it down his chest. Leaning in close, Catherine whispered in his ear.

“Adults are still on the menu, aren’t they?”

Leaving one light breath on the edge of his ear, she turned with a roll of her eyes and walked away. For a moment there, she had been considering licking his cheek. In the end, the breath of air had probably been the wiser choice. His face had reddened before she turned.

It had the added benefit of not having his disgusting taste on her tongue for the next who-knew-how-long.

He didn’t move a single muscle until after Catherine reached her desk, half-sat half-leaned against it, and blew him a kiss. And then, the only movement he made was to lean his head to one side and back again. As if dodging the imaginary projectile.

Pathetic.

Once he had thoroughly cleared his throat, Anderson said, “I’ll have you know that I am very happily married.”

“Ah,” Catherine said with a false wistful sigh, “a shame. I’m certain that I could have shown you things your wife could never have imagined in a hundred millennia.”

That was true enough, though Catherine didn’t have to imagine much. Such things were mere propensity for succubi. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that seducing a married man could prove to be even the slightest challenge. It couldn’t be that difficult with how he was acting.

Catherine suppressed a shudder. Disgusting thing. Just brushing up against him gave her an irrational desire to stick her hand in a boiling pot of water. As it was, she had to settle for a little jar of hand sanitizer on Baxter’s desk.

“Now,” Catherine said in her regular tone of voice, “if that was all you wanted, get out. I have to grade these foolish children’s exams.”

Rather than walk out the door, he approached her desk. Bringing himself to his full height, he towered over her slight lean against the desk. “Nice try,” he said as shadows darkened in the background. “I’ll not be so easily distracted.”

He wanted to be intimidating? Fine. Two could play that game.

Catherine’s eyes flared bright red and she didn’t care in the slightest. In fact, she allowed herself to go a step further. Her eyes lost the circular human-like pupil as they stretched into the full demonic slit. Two slightly curved horns sprouted from the edge of her hairline. Her wings and tail–

She had to suppress a wince. Stupid human clothing. Horns and eyes would have to suffice. And skin. Catherine smiled with sharp teeth as her skin turned to her beautiful pale violet. It was nice to feel like herself again.

No upstart human with a bound haunter was going to treat her like a fledgling.

“Zagan was here.”

“He was,” Catherine confirmed. “What’s it to you?”

“This school is missing students as you well know.” The lights flickered as he spoke.

Catherine didn’t even blink.

“We have managed to keep it quiet for the most part, but Christmas is fast approaching. Some students will be returning home for a few weeks and they will talk. I have an interest in seeing the missing students return alive and well before the flights leave.”

“So that the children will tell their mommies and daddies that everything is just dandy?” Catherine rolled her eyes. “Please. The brats don’t care. That class that just left? It was the class those missing students were from. Did they look worried or sad or whatever emotions humans are supposed to feel in situations like this?”

Anderson pursed his lips but remained silent.

“No they didn’t. Martina personally came in and told the class that they were simply ‘taking a brief respite after the hectic incident in November’ and something about how they would be back soon. I,” Catherine paused. For dramatic effect, she curled her fingers in front of her face as if she was inspecting her nails.

Actually, Catherine thought, they could use a sharpening. And a painting. A nice midnight black this time I think.

“I,” Catherine repeated, “may have been sowing some of my irresistible charms–”

He scoffed.

Asshole. “–to help keep the more troublesome students from caring.”

“Will they?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Will they what?”

“Be back soon.”

Catherine shrugged. “Zagan said something about an experiment. Martina yelled at him a lot, but the only real responses he gave was that they were alive and that he didn’t intend to interfere with their current situation. She yelled harder after that.”

Mostly at Catherine. Zagan–that bastard–didn’t have the decency to stick around long enough for Martina to get her anger out of her system.

“What is their current situation?”

Again, Catherine shrugged. “How the hell should I know? If you are so interested, go summon him up yourself.”

Anderson stared at her for just a moment. Turning, he started towards the door. “Maybe I will,” he said before disappearing out into the hallway.

Catherine blinked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly. In the end, she shook her head. It didn’t matter to her one way or the other. Maybe if she was lucky, the idiot would actually summon Zagan. If she was really lucky, Zagan would be in a murderous mood for being disturbed.

Without Anderson hanging over her shoulder, she would be free to return to properly educating the ignorant mortals.

Sighing, Catherine turned to the short stack of papers on her desk.

“Now,” she mumbled to herself, “where did I put those dice?”

Sterile.

If there was one word to describe Zoe Baxter’s apartment, Sterile would be it.

The apartment building itself was of the seedier type. Probably the best one in Brakket despite that. There really were no good apartment buildings in Brakket. Most were half-abandoned at best.

But the difference between one step inside Baxter’s room and one step out in the hallway might as well be the difference between a desert and a jungle.

Someone had done a real number on the place. Catherine’s nose couldn’t detect the faintest trace of any sort of remains she had expected to find–from past tenants if not Baxter herself.

Catherine pressed the door shut behind her, cushioning the noise with a small bit of air magic. As much as the apartment was supposed to be empty, Catherine didn’t feel like taking too many chances. At the same time, she wasn’t exactly trying to hide her presence. She could have made a stealthier approach than walking in through the front door.

Still, since Martina had delegated the acquisition of the room to Catherine, getting a second key had been child’s play–human children at that.

Why the school had to buy her an apartment, Catherine never bothered to ask. She had learned enough about the mortal realm to understand that normal employees whose houses had burned down were essentially left to fend for themselves. There might be a community pot to chip in, but rarely more.

Dismissing the tangent, Catherine crept into the apartment proper. It was minimalistic. A table, two chairs, and a couch pressed up against the window were the only pieces of furniture in the room. The kitchen had appliances, though those had come with the apartment. No decorations, paintings, plants, or anything to suggest that the place was actually lived in.

She brushed her fingers across the top of the dining room table. Her fingers came off clean.

Ignoring the main room, Catherine moved into the bedroom–the only other real room in the place.

Much like the rest of the apartment, the bedroom was clear of most personal effects. Her bed had plain sheets–picked up in a hurry no doubt. The only thing that really stood out was the desk and the heavy-looking safe at its side.

Ignoring the safe for now, Catherine pulled out the chair, sat at the desk, and started rifling through. A good deal of the papers were actually students’ work. That would explain the small gap in the grade book between Baxter’s vacation and Catherine taking over.

Catherine tossed the papers to the side. That small gap had already been resolved through repeated application of dice rolls. Whatever was written down was, therefore, worthless.

The next notebook gave Catherine pause. The title was simply Black Metal Ring. It didn’t take much to guess what this was about. Catherine had felt the effects of the ring more than once over the last several months. Baxter didn’t have it on constantly, which defeated the purpose for the most part, but she wore it often enough. Especially after her house burned down.

Sure enough, the first entry was about her initial contact with the ring, how it felt, and other such details. It quickly delved into experiments on the ring itself as well as a few tests involving creatures from the Brakket Academy zoo–all inconclusive or complete failures with regards to fending off some of the more hostile creatures.

From there, Catherine had to widen her eyes. According to the notes, Baxter was attempting to recreate the initial effects that she had felt. The ones that, if Catherine understood correctly, not only ‘keyed’ Baxter to the ring but were the exact thing that caused intense foreboding in demons towards the bearer.

Ambitious. Catherine would give her that. Doomed to failure of course. The magic that powered the rings was Death’s magic. Not just anyone could toss that around.

Sure enough, the next page was riddled with failure notices. Zero successes unless Catherine was going to count her finding out all the ways in which applying Death magic did not work–and Catherine was not about to give her that.

Chilly air caressing her skin broke Catherine out of her thoughts. It was a very unnatural chill.

Catherine snapped the notebook shut, slid it back into the desk, and stood from her seat.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to face possibly the second worst demon in the area.

“Little miss Death herself,” Catherine said, quickly recovering from her shock. “Though you aren’t so little at the moment.”

Ylva frowned down at her.

Condescending bitch.

“You are trespassing.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you? This place isn’t yours.”

“Is it not? We find this information… surprising.”

A sinking feeling hit Catherine’s stomach like a dump truck full of bricks. All the cleanliness and the sudden atmosphere change upon entering. It all made sense.

And sarcasm from a hel? Zagan was right, Void is ending.

Catherine took a step back, almost tripping over the chair she had just vacated. She raised her arms in a placating gesture. “Now let’s not be rash or anything. We’re on the same side right? Fighting the evil necromancers and saving Brakket and all the mortals or whatever?”

“We distinctly recall your presence during the rescue of my servant. We do not recall your assistance.”

Forcing a laugh, Catherine said, “you guys looked like you had that in the bag.”

Ylva tilted her head to one side. “In the bag?”

Catherine bit her lip. “Just slang,” she said. Her voice grew quieter as she continued. “I might have picked it up from some mortals recently.”

She made a small hum noise. “In addition, Zagan was at your side.”

Of course, Catherine thought, it all comes back to that bag of dicks.

Ylva took a step closer. “He has made poor choices in dealing with Our property. Now he hides himself from Us.”

“He had good reason to,” Catherine blurted out before Ylva could move any further. Probably not the best thing to say, in retrospect. Denying all responsibility would have been a better choice. In fact, it still was. “I had nothing to do with any of that. The kids in Hell was not my idea and I didn’t even know about it until after you did.” Probably.

“But,” Catherine said–no, pleaded. “I’ll tell you everything I know about his reasons and you let me go. Right? I wasn’t hurting anything here.”

Ylva stared.

Time dragged on in uncomfortable silence.

Catherine didn’t sweat unless she wanted to. She rarely wanted to. At the moment, she could feel a bead of liquid dripping down her forehead.

It promptly froze and fell past her eye, shattering on the floor.

“We will see,” Ylva said.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.016

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Eva tossed the now slightly damp towel over her shoulder, not caring in the slightest where it actually landed.

She exited the showers completely in the nude. Arachne followed her out at her heels.

Devon still sat, snoring in his chair. For a moment, she considered waking him. After glancing at the large bruise on his forehead, Eva decided he looked tired enough to leave alone. Besides, he managed to sleep through all the noise of the showers.

Never had she felt so alive.

She stopped and stretched in her common room. The jolt of pain in her lower back went completely ignored. She was far too pleased with everything to care.

Well, Eva thought with a brief glance at the ceiling, almost everything.

It was nice being out of that nightmare and back with Arachne in the real world, her injury was healing slowly yet steadily, and Sawyer’s days were numbered.

Zagan just had to put a damper on it.

Prior to taking a shower, Eva got an abridged story from Arachne. Arachne, unfortunately, got it from Zoe. Zoe had experienced some of it first hand, but she got most of the information about Juliana and Shalise from Jordan.

Eva wasn’t about to take Arachne’s word for truth until she spoke to some of the others. Not that she didn’t trust Arachne; she trusted her completely. It was just that Eva had played the telephone game in elementary school. Third and fourth-hand retellings of events tended to become extremely muddled.

She couldn’t begin to guess at Zagan’s game. Whatever he wanted was likely related to what he had told her about investigating Hell back when he was terrorizing the nuns. Shalise and Juliana didn’t matter to that as far as Eva knew.

The thing that most aroused her curiosity was that Jordan and Shelby had gotten themselves involved in this mess. Probably because of her getting Irene involved. But somehow they had managed to spy on Zagan? There was a story there that Eva wanted to hear.

Arching her back in a stretch, half to look upside down at Arachne and half to exercise out her injury, Eva asked, “was Irene alright after all that?”

Arachne stared for a moment before shrugging.

A voice from behind Eva chose to answer the question. “Irene is perfectly fi–why are you naked?”

Eva straightened out to find Zoe Baxter standing at the entrance to the women’s ward with her back facing Eva.

“Just got out of the shower. Besides, I’m in the privacy of my own home.” Eva paused with her hands on her hips just long enough for Zoe to get curious enough to glance over her shoulder.

Her head whipped back hard enough that Eva felt that whiplash. “Are you going to get dressed?”

“If I must,” Eva said. It’s good to be back, Eva thought as she slipped into her room. As much as she would never say it aloud, she had missed everyone.

Which made the lack of Juliana and Shalise all the more depressing.

Someone, likely Arachne, had tidied up her room. Eva’s eyes were immediately drawn to the end table next to her bed. Five vials of pitch-black blood helped to prop up her void metal dagger. She picked it up, gripping it in her hand. It felt… nice to hold it again.

After tossing on the first tee-shirt and skirt she found, Eva attached the vials of blood and her dagger to her belt.

She walked out of her room to rejoin Zoe and Arachne–who never had complaints about her lack of attire–in the common room.

It took three clearings of her throat to get Zoe to turn around. When she finally did turn, she just stared for a moment.

Eva cocked her head to one side while subtly glancing at herself. She hadn’t put on shoes or socks or anything, but she was otherwise decently dressed. “So?”

“I wish we had more time to allow you to rest. You’re looking rather harried.”

Eva frowned. She only just got out of the shower and hadn’t had the time to so much as glance in a mirror. Eva waved Zoe off. “Well I feel great.”

“Indeed. I suppose that will have to suffice.” Zoe gave a weak smile. “Just don’t push yourself too much.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” Eva said with a shrug.

“That’s all I can ask. Nel, at Genoa’s insistence, has started her attempts to locate Shalise and Juliana. I was unsure as to whether you–”

“Of course I’ll come,” Eva said. She gave a brief glance towards Arachne, prompting the spider-demon to approach and place an arm around Eva’s shoulders. Turning back to Zoe, she said, “she’s in Ylva’s domain, right?”

Zoe nodded. “Not the usual room. I’ll take you there.”

Eva followed after Zoe. She used the short walk across the prison compound to ask a handful of questions. Most related to finding out exactly what happened while she was out of the loop from Zoe’s mouth. By the time they arrived, Eva felt she had a decent, if brief, understanding.

The doorway they passed through within Ylva’s domain was on almost the exact opposite side of the throne room from the outside entrance. An endless ocean and a short beach lay on the other side.

It was her first time through that door in Ylva’s domain and yet it felt so familiar. The sand, the water, and the nighttime sky without a star in sight were exactly the same as her little island that she visited after escaping from Sawyer the first time.

A few steps out, Eva slipped out of Arachne’s grip and knelt down. A tingle of nostalgia tickled Eva’s mind as she lifted some of the sand and let it fall through her fingers.

Her island had been a refuge. She had rested there, half in the water, for a few hours. Upon entering, she had felt comfortable enough to slip into sleep for a time.

Considering that had been immediately after her torture session with Sawyer, that might have been more exhaustion than comfort. Still, it was a good memory; the island, not the torture session.

The island was similar enough that she might not notice the difference had she been able to see only a small slice of it. It was black and white then; her domain compensating for her lack of eyes in an imperfect method, according to Devon and Arachne.

The only real difference was that while her island was about the size of her dorm room, Ylva’s island didn’t even have curvature. As far as Eva could tell, it stretched on forever in either direction.

Other than that, the biggest change was the tiny tree. Eva’s island had one, Ylva’s had a massive black marble structure. It didn’t look anything like what she would have expected from seeing the inside.

For one, it was a whole lot larger. Inside, the space between the rooms’ doorways was the size of the doorway plus a few foot wide pillar. As Eva looked back at the structure, the door they had just come out of was a tiny keyhole in comparison to the main structure.

They hadn’t even walked that far away from it.

The area where the next room would normally be would take a good five minutes to run to from the beach.

The entire thing hurt Eva’s head. Escher himself would have headaches for weeks just trying to wrap his mind around the layout of the place.

Something of a large difference, Eva thought with a grin as she brushed her hands off and got to her feet. The grin fell by the wayside as Eva realized her mistake.

All the gritty sand she had picked up had stuck around, getting in all the joints of her chitinous hands. Her feet were worse by far. She hadn’t worn shoes–it was more comfortable not to under normal circumstances.

The beach was not normal circumstances.

“How can you stand the sand?” Eva asked of Arachne.

“Got used to it. That doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying, but I can ignore it if I have to.”

Eva frowned as she started using the sharp tips of her fingers to dislodge a particularly irritating grain of sand. “How many millennia did that take,” she mumbled more to herself than anyone else.

It didn’t take much longer before their group reached the edge of the water. As in Eva’s domain, the pitch black liquid stretched out to the horizon without a single ripple marring the glassy surface.

That was quite a feat on its own, given that Nel was half-submerged a short way away from the edge. An altar either floated on top of the water or was some sort of pillar sticking out. Floating above an incense burner were two strands of hair. One wavy brown hair and one long blond hair.

Eva wrinkled her nose as the scent of frankincense wafted over. She ignored it as she walked up alongside Genoa.

The older woman didn’t so much as twitch in her direction. She kept her eyes glued firmly on Nel. Her face was calm, but Eva could see her heart beating in a manner very reminiscent of nervousness.

Carlos stood at Genoa’s side. He was far less composed. His hands shook as they constantly fiddled with his glasses.

Ylva and the other nun–Alicia, if Eva caught her name correctly–stood a few paces to the side. Ylva was watching Nel with nearly the same intensity as Genoa, though her heart wasn’t in it quite so much.

The only other person on the beach was Devon. Zoe went and stood by him for whatever reason. He–

Eva frowned. Her master had been back at the women’s ward, sleeping.

It took a double take to realize that the man standing to Zoe’s side was a slightly scragglier looking Wayne Lurcher.

Looking at him again, it was obvious. His hair was far shorter and his beard was less of a beard and more stubble. The dead giveaway was that he was wearing a suit rather than Devon’s ragged trench coat.

Eva moved up next to him. “You’re looking good,” she said.

He turned his head and gave her a look.

Eva gave him a look right back. Surely he wasn’t blaming her for being injured. She was about to open her mouth and say as much when he opened his first.

“You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“Try not to cause so much trouble next time.”

Eva humphed and walked away. “I’ll show you trouble,” she muttered under her breath, prompting a short laugh from Arachne. “Try to be nice to a guy and–”

“I’ve found them,” Nel half shouted. “Or Juliana at least. Shalise isn’t anywhere around her. Something else is though.”

Genoa stepped forwards, sinking her boots into the water. “What is it?”

“I don’t–a demon, I guess,” Nel said while waving an arm.

It was then that Eva noticed her other arm. Or, more accurately, the shriveled husk that was in place of her other arm. Looking through her blood sight, Eva saw the problem immediately.

She had no eyes in that arm.

Nel’s extra eyes did something strange to her body. A full-sized eyeball wouldn’t fit in the palm of her hand even if all the bones were removed. Yet she clearly had one on her good hand. It pushed her meat around like there was more space than actually existed.

Without the eyeballs in her arm, whatever magic there was had broken and left the pushed aside meat… well, pushed aside and useless.

Eva couldn’t begin to guess how her arm wasn’t a rotted husk. The blood was barely making it to her fingers as it was.

Shaking her head, Eva tried to catch up with the conversation.

Genoa jumped into the water, waist deep in it alongside Nel, and gripped one of her shoulders. “They’re doing what?”

— — —

Juliana left the tea in her mouth for a moment, tasting it.

It wasn’t that bad. Sweet, but not overpowering. Unfortunately, it was a familiar sweetness. The black honey that had made it into her mouth tasted the same.

She would have spit it back into the cup, but the demon was watching her closely.

Too close.

Juliana swallowed the tiny mouthful and reset the cup on its tray. Leaning away from the overbearing demon, she said, “I appreciate the hospitality–”

“Oh my dear, you have yet to see the breadth of my hospitality.”

His hand stretched with the strings dragging it along. As soon as his hand touched Juliana’s shoulder, she found herself sitting on a stone bench.

A rather comfortable stone bench.

It was one of many, all seated in a half-circle around a lower central platform. An amphitheater. Almost the same as the one at Brakket.

In fact, Juliana thought as she glanced around, it is the same. He even dropped her off at her usual spot during Zoe’s seminars. The trees of the forest were in the background.

The only real change was the pitch black sky with the eye-like moon.

That and the fact that all the spare seats were occupied by the same statues of golden bees as the ones occupying the theater seats. Every one of them sat in a unique pose. She had a feeling that if she examined them a little closer, each bee would be different from the next.

Juliana jumped to her feet as two people walked out on the stage. “Mom! Arachne? Why–how–”

Juliana’s voice caught in her throat as her mother waved and said, “hello.”

Two lines ran up from her chin to the corners of her lips as her jaw dropped straight down. Her face was like stiff plastic. Five thin strings attached to her fingers glinted off the moonlight. Arachne was similarly strung up, though she looked more normal. Or it was harder to tell the difference between puppet-Arachne and the real thing. The ball joints on her limbs blended in a lot better than the ones on her mother.

‘Genoa’ and ‘Arachne’ turned to face one another. After a brief stare-down, the Arachne-puppet gripped the chin of Genoa and tore off her face. No blood or bone came out, just splinters.

Juliana sunk back into her seat as her mother started sparring with Arachne despite her lack of face.

“Not quite the spectacle of the real thing, is it?”

Giving a small start, Juliana turned to Willie. She had almost forgotten he was there. “You’ve been spying on my mother?”

“I do so enjoy a good show and you were so diligent in carrying around that doll eye. It would have been a crime not to watch. Sandwich?” he asked as a silver plate appeared in his hand. A pile of bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches materialized on top. The bread was a light golden brown, grilled to perfection.

And the smell.

Juliana had to wipe off a small bit of drool before responding. “I don’t think–”

A loud rumbling of her stomach interrupted her. Traitor.

“Nonsense. You must be famished. How long has it been since you last ate?”

Since before I can remember, Juliana did not say. Instead, she meekly took one of the sandwiches with a mumbled, “thanks.”

Her first nibble turned into a bite. A second sandwich found its way into her other hand before the first finished disappearing. A third and fourth followed without delay.

The entire plate was gone before she finally felt full.

“See,” he said, “famished.”

A tremor shook the entire amphitheater. Juliana gripped the edges of her seat to keep from tumbling off as the ground shook beneath her feet.

The two fighting imitations weren’t quite so lucky. ‘Arachne’ collapsed forwards, one arm striking through the wooden doll of her mother’s chest.

As the tremors died off, Juliana glanced to her side. Willie hadn’t budged the entire time. He did have a somewhat concerned look on his face.

“Dreadful things,” he said with undisguised disdain. “Are you alright, milady?”

Juliana narrowed her eyes as she frowned at the demon seated to her side. “Weren’t you trying to kill me the last time we met? Now you are concerned about me and, what, fattening me up?” She gestured towards the empty sandwich platter.

Willie gave an elegant snort. “I am not about to eat you. As I said then, it is a token effort mostly for the sake of tradition. No demon wishes to be beholden to a weak master even if that means a brief respite from this place.”

“And you still tried despite my ring?”

“Truthfully, I failed to notice. King Zagan’s presence overpowers your little token by far. He was a tad distracting.”

Juliana shuffled in her seat, trying her best to ignore the fight between the puppet versions of her mother and Arachne. “I don’t suppose I can leave to find my friend, can I?”

He turned to her with a smile–an Arachne smile. “And miss out on all of my hospitality? My dear, we are just getting started.”

— — —

Genoa shared a quick glance with Arachne at Nel’s recounting of the situation.

The spider-demon gave her half of a shrug in return.

“She knows it isn’t us, right?” Genoa asked as she turned back to Nel.

“You look significantly different from your puppet version. And she didn’t run up and hug you or anything.”

Carlos stumbled forwards, splashing into the water as he moved towards Nel. The augur winced back as one of his bony hands gripped her rotten arm, but he didn’t appear to notice. He put his face a few inches from hers and stared into her eyes.

“That is my daughter,” Carlos said, “not some puppet? The real and true Juliana?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Carlos held on, staring for another few minutes. His knees gave out beneath the water as he stumbled backwards into Genoa’s waiting arms. He turned, held her tight, and immediately started crying. “She’s alright,” he said between sobs. “Our little girl is alright.”

Patting him on the back, Genoa said, “I trained her. Of course she is alright. And now it is time to bring her home.” Over his shoulder, Genoa locked eyes with Nel. “How do I get there?”

“I don’t kn–”

“The waters,” Ylva interrupted, “connect all of Hell.”

Genoa glanced down at her feet. She was already waist deep in the dark water. Her feet looked like nothing more than shadows beneath the surface. “Great,” she said. “How do I use it?”

“Wade out and submerge yourself. You will feel a pressure. As the pressure mounts, think of your destination. Names of the owner will prevent undue wandering.”

“So just think of Juliana? Or a theater hall with an amphitheater? What do you mean by wandering?”

Eva stepped forwards, her black feet parting the water around them. “When I was in Hell, I managed to find my way around a bit. I wasn’t thinking of much of anything before finding myself in the abattoir. Thinking of home brought me back to my–a safe island I found myself on.”

Ylva looked down at Eva with her eyebrows ever so slightly raised. “The abattoir? Truly?”

Eva gave a small shrug. “That’s where she said I was,” she said with a gesture towards a nodding Arachne.

After a moment of silence, Ylva gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. “We do not believe any have accidentally wandered into the domains the Keeper keeps.”

“Fascinating,” Genoa said in a tone that said anything but. “How does it help me get to Juliana?”

Ylva frowned slightly, but turned to address Genoa. “Talkina are few in number. Being theatergoing demons of puppetry, many will have theaters of varying types within their domains. Without knowing his name, you may end up in any of them.”

“So I just think of a theater and if it is the wrong one, jump in some water and try again?”

“That would be exceedingly foolhardy.”

Genoa grit her teeth together. “You just–”

“Bees,” Eva said.

“What?”

“A theater with bees. That is what Nel said, is it not?”

There was a small splash of water behind Genoa as Nel jumped at being addressed. “Y-yeah. Golden bee statues all over the place.”

“That should prove unique enough to find the proper domain,” Ylva said. There was a brief pause before she continued. “Barring any sort of sudden fascination in golden bees among the talkina population.”

“Great,” Genoa said as she started moving around Nel to get deeper in the water. She paused before taking a full step. “We can return here to leave, right?”

“Enter the waters and think of Our glorious name.”

Rolling her eyes, Genoa turned to continue out into the water. She paused as five sharp fingers curled gently around her wrist.

“You’re not going alone,” Eva said. “Juliana is my friend too.”

“You can’t be going yet,” Zoe said, stomping out into the water. “You just woke up.”

“And I feel great!” Eva stretched for emphasis. “Being mostly dead turned out to be a great bout of rest.”

“And you,” Zoe said, ignoring the younger girl. “Charging in without a plan? Wasn’t it you who was always going on about knowing what you’re walking into?”

Genoa frowned and took a deep breath. “The guild lessons I taught you are not law. Besides,” she said with a smile, “you dropped out before I could get to the most important lesson: follow your instincts.”

“So you’re just going to run off and get yourself killed?”

“I am going to run off and get my daughter back.”

Zoe crossed her arms in front of her chest with a small scowl.

“Eva,” Ylva said before Zoe could open her mouth again. “You will be unable to return to the mortal realm through Our domain.”

Eva blinked at the statuesque woman for just a moment before nodding. “I understand. I have a beacon and should be able to return when I need.”

There was an almost imperceptible nod from Ylva while everyone stared at Eva.

Zoe was the first to speak. “Why can’t you come back through here?”

“I can, it is just against the rules for Ylva to help me. I suppose I qualify for them now.”

“What is–”

“Later! Let’s get Juliana and Shalise home and then we can all talk.”

That was something Genoa was perfectly willing to consent to. Eva started leading her off into the water almost as much as she was leading Eva out. Arachne trailed behind with a hand on Eva’s shoulder.

By the time they were in up to their necks, it was easier to simply swim than try to walk along the sand. And there was definitely a pressure there. It was somewhat similar to her limited experience with diving, except that they were on the surface rather than down several meters.

“Alright,” Eva said. “Golden bee statue theater.”

And she dunked her head beneath the surface of the water.

Genoa paused, watching to see what would happen.

A hand shaped shadow reached up out of the depths of the water and gripped Eva. It pulled her under, dragging her for a short distance before it vanished from her sight.

Genoa started. She almost dived in to try to pull her back, but Arachne’s claws gripped her shoulder.

With a silent shake of her head, Arachne calmly allowed herself to sink into the water. A moment later, a hand gripped her and pulled her off into the depths.

So that is supposed to happen, Genoa thought. They could have warned her.

Taking a deep breath, Genoa dove under the water. She repeated the destination in her head over and over again.

It was awkward. Golden bee statue theater. It felt odd in her mind. That awkwardness was probably why she had never been able to teleport like Zoe. It used a similar, very awkward-feeling method of deciding where to go.

She waited. It hadn’t taken long for the hand to grasp either of the other two. Bracing herself as she continued to repeat the destination, Genoa held her breath beneath the heavy water.

The hand never came. One moment she was beneath the water and the next moment she was completely dry.

Dry and falling.

A single moon watched on as she plummeted into an ocean of viscous liquid.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.015

<– Back | Index | Next –>

The long hallway.

Blood red walls with a black hardwood floor. A narrow carpet protected the hardwood from the sharp undersides of Eva’s feet.

There were no doors. No side passages. Nothing at all apart from a way forwards and a way backwards.

It looked exactly as it had every other time.

Eva took off at a run.

And promptly got nowhere.

It didn’t matter which way she ran. Neither direction ever took her anywhere apart from where she was.

Yet Eva ran.

There had to be progress somewhere. Even if she was dead, there had to be more to it than a hallway.

She passed by some scorch marks on the walls. Those were old. She hadn’t tried burning her way out of the hallway in what felt like forever.

It never worked.

On the plus side, if Eva ever managed to escape from the hallway, she was quite confident that her thaumaturgical flames had increased dramatically in temperature and intensity. Attempting to burn down a hallway several times over the past eternity turned out to be decent training.

Who would have guessed.

Eva tripped. Her face became intimately introduced to the carpet. Eva groaned as she pushed herself up to her knees. Rubbing the rug burn off her cheek, Eva glanced around.

She had never fallen before. Not without intending to at least. That change alone welled up excitement in her chest.

A lip of carpet. That was what had caused her to trip.

Frowning, Eva used her sharp claws to tear away at the carpet.

Nothing. No trap door. No secret tunnel. Clawing at the wood did nothing–it never had in the past either.

Sighing, Eva got to her feet. She froze half way there.

Before, it always looked like the hallway continued into eternity. Now there was a white light obscuring one end of the hallway. Turning around, Eva saw black shadows eclipsing the opposite end.

That’s not ominous at all, Eva thought. She stood in indecision, glancing back and forth. Neither had particularly good connotations.

The white light at the end of the tunnel was always where dead people went. But black had its own connections with Death. Namely reaper’s traditional attire.

With a shrug of her shoulders–anywhere was better than the endless hallway–Eva turned and started running.

The carpet beneath her feet bunched up behind her as each step moved the carpet backwards. Like the floor was a giant treadmill.

As soon as the carpet ran out, Eva’s feet hit hardwood. The walls started to bend and sway as the hardwood wrapped up as the cloth carpet had.

No matter how hard she ran, she stayed in the same position. The hallway moved, but she did not.

Even though she was making no progress, the black shadows at the end of the hall moved closer. Her shiny black legs hammered against the floor.

Until the mouth of the hallway opened up around her.

Eva’s foot came down, hitting nothing but air. She fell forward, tumbling end over end into a black emptiness. A white box with an opening into the hallway, not any larger than a single cell within her prison, shrunk into the distance as she fell.

The white box became nothing more than a pinpoint in the sky. A few more tumbles and the tiny star winked out, encompassed by pitch black. Dark enough that Eva couldn’t see her own hand in front of her eyes.

After a thought, Eva looked at herself again using her sense of blood. That was working at the very least, though it wasn’t all that helpful. She was the only thing in range.

There was no wind screaming past her face and no feelings of gravity acting against her. Her hair was straight and flat against her back. The star was her singular point of reference. Without it, she couldn’t even tell if she was still tumbling.

Her first thought was Void.

When demons died, Void snatched them from whatever plane of existence they found themselves on and brought them into Himself. From Arachne, Eva knew that demons then had to ‘claw their way back to their domains or risk insanity and oblivion within Him.’

None of that was particularly helpful now.

Devon would be pleased to know that she was demon enough to be claimed by Void. If she managed to escape before he died of old age.

The time to escape varied depending on power. Eva had a strong suspicion that she was not among the ranks of the more powerful demons.

Waving her claws around did not accomplish anything apparent. The only reason she could tell that her arms were moving was because she could still feel herself. A quick swipe of her index finger told her that yes, pain was very much a thing here.

…oving…strain her…

Eva blinked, for all the good that did. She opened her mouth in an attempt to call out at whatever voice that had been. Though she could feel the vibrations in her throat, not a decibel of sound reached her ears.

Then the pain started.

It started in the small of her back. Ten thousand razor-sharp needles, heated on the surface of the sun. They poked.

They moved up her back, rolling across her arms and neck and head. She could feel them pinging off of her hands, wrists, and legs. It didn’t take long for the pings to pierce her exoskeleton.

Eva writhed. Her own claws joined the needles in raking across her body. Whatever flesh she herself flayed paled in comparison to the needles.

And the entire time, not a peep of her own screams could be heard.

All of it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Though the pain lingered on, no new needles poked in and out of her body.

It took hours for her brain to reboot enough that a thought unrelated to the pain entered her mind.

If this is Void, I am sorry I didn’t pick the white light.

…ucky…ur head…

There was that voice again. It was familiar somehow. Comforting. Something that would wrap around her and keep the needles away.

…ow…truistic…

Another voice. More standoffish, but still familiar.

Good voices.

As the pain further receded, Eva came to her senses enough to take stock of her situation.

It hadn’t changed much. She still couldn’t see. Her voice stayed in her throat.

None of the needles had left any marks in her flesh according to her blood sight. That wasn’t the case with her own claws. She had cuts everywhere, though most centered on her back where she had attempted to reach around and protect herself.

With a thought, Eva set about healing.

As soon as she started, Eva hit something.

Something dug into her back.

Something entered her back exactly in the location Sawyer had stabbed her.

Inaudibly growling, Eva reached back and attempted to remove the offending implement.

Her fingers grasped nothing but empty air. With some exploration, she managed to find the hole.

She had healed that forever ago.

There was a tingle of pain as she set about mending herself, again.

Blinking her eyes, Eva almost yelled out in surprise.

Eight glowing red eyes and a shark-toothed grin filled her vision.

“Arachne?” Her voice came out soft and weak, but it definitely came out.

“Eva. You’re awake.”

For a moment, Eva just stared into the demon’s red eyes. Ensuring to herself that she wasn’t hallucinating. Seeing someone, anyone, was such a welcome relief compared to the isolation within the hallway.

And it was Arachne. Of course it was Arachne. Her first friend probably hadn’t so much as left her side since she first passed out. At least, assuming she wasn’t off in Hell. In that case, Arachne would have been waiting in Eva’s domain.

After drinking in her fill, Eva said the first thing that came to mind. “I think I’d like to kiss you right now.”

Arachne’s grin widened, bringing a small smile to Eva’s face.

“Let’s see how you feel after you see the get well present I’ve got for you.”

Someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

Arachne’s grin slipped slightly. She slid off to one side and wrapped her arms and legs around Eva, being careful not to jolt her.

Eva closed her eyes. She counted to ten. When she opened her eyes, Arachne was still at her side. And, unless she was very much mistaken, the ceiling of her own women’s ward common room was above her head.

Someone moved close, obstructing her view.

“Zoe Baxter,” Eva said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a vampire dropped a road-roller–covered in sewing needles–on my back and then proceeded to punch it a few hundred times.”

Zoe gave a weak smile. “That was probably us removing your curse. We were getting worried. That was almost three hours ago. The rats woke up almost immediately.”

At the mention of others, Eva attempted to lift her head and look around. She didn’t get very far. The pain in her back spiked, though not nearly to the same degree as earlier.

Undaunted, Eva used her blood sense in place of her eyes. Arachne cuddled at her side while Zoe looked down from a few feet away. Carlos, unless Eva was much mistaken, stood alongside Ylva near the entryway. Someone else knelt just behind Ylva. Eva guessed it was a nun based on the eye implanted in her chest.

Not Nel. There was only the one eye. Her circulatory system did not look familiar, though that did not necessarily mean much. Eva hadn’t paid close enough attention to the majority of nuns she had met to be able to identify individuals.

Nel had been in Sawyer’s clutches the last time Eva saw her. That probably didn’t bode well for her. But another nun? Did Ylva go out and pick up a replacement like the girl was some kind of goldfish?

The nun sat with her knees to the ground and her hands in her lap. Every few seconds, her vapid smile would vanish and be replaced with an almost blank expression.

The only other person in range was Devon. He was sitting sideways in a chair with his back and legs on the armrests. Sleeping; his heart rate was low and his head lolled off to one side.

Nuzzling against Arachne, Eva turned her attentions to herself. There were several cuts across her body, especially her back and sides. They all looked to be about the right size and amount to have been self-inflicted. It wasn’t as bad as the dark place. Most were shallow.

Healing them wouldn’t be much trouble.

Then there was the knife hole in her back. It didn’t hurt. Not unless she moved. Breathing too deep caused a good amount of pain as well. Given that one of her lungs had been nicked, that wasn’t too much of a surprise. But there was something odd.

“I’m not bleeding?”

Zoe glanced over her shoulder. “After removing your curse, Ylva stuck her finger into your wound. She said it would hold until you could take care of it.”

“Well, thanks,” Eva said as honestly as she could. Surviving whatever Sawyer had done to her only to die from bleeding out would have been far too embarrassing to stand.

Eva frowned as she attempted weaving her flesh back together. “I’m having trouble healing myself.”

“Lingering Death magic,” Ylva said in a calm voice.

Far calmer than Eva felt, she said, “Death magic?”

“The nuns’ lightning,” Zoe quickly said. Her growing panic must have been evident on Eva’s face. “It eats away at other magic, it is how we cured your curse. Unfortunately, it is probably going to interfere with your healing for a time.”

“Nun lightning is Death magic? With a capital ‘D’ and everything?”

Excitement crept into Zoe’s voice. “Oh yes. All their ‘white’ magic is. Hyper-specialized and tailored for fighting undeath. Would you believ–”

A loud snort from Devon interrupted Zoe as he rustled in his sleep.

“Sorry,” she said, speaking softer. “You probably don’t want all the details before you’re even out of bed.”

Eva closed her eyes and pressed her head up against Arachne. Not being stuck in that hallway was amazing, and talking was a huge thing she had missed. But Zoe had a point. “A little rest might be nice.”

Zoe nodded. She fidgeted for a moment as if unsure of what to do.

“There is something you must know,” Ylva said, stepping forward. “Our subject has been trapped within Hell. Nel will search for her and the other human after a brief respite of her own.”

I guess Nel isn’t with Sawyer after all?

Eva blinked her eyes open as the rest of what was said started to register.

Ylva had moved close enough to be seen with her regular eyes, but she turned and walked away before Eva could fully process what she had said. The nun got to her feet and followed her out, keeping a distance of about three paces.

Subject? She referred to Nel as a servant. Zoe was in the room, so Juliana must be in Hell unless that was a complete non-sequitur? The other human?

“Why are Juliana and Shalise in Hell?”

Carlos moved up next to Eva’s bed. “Your professor, Rex Zagan, sent them there,” he said softly.

“According to Jordan Anderson,” Zoe added.

Eva pinched her eyes shut. “Why would he send them to Hell? What for?”

When neither of them responded, Eva opened her eyes to find Carlos slowly shaking his head. Zoe had pressed her lips into a thin line.

“You didn’t ask him?”

“He hasn’t been in school since the attack,” Zoe said. “Martina doesn’t know where he is or why he did it either.

“Even if he was in school, I don’t think it would be wise to provoke him. It will be difficult to rescue them if we are trapped as well.”

Eva sighed. Always one thing after another.

“How long?”

“Two weeks. And a few days change.”

Biting her lip, Eva said, “that’s a long time.” A long time to be unconscious as well. That might explain her hunger. It was a rare occasion that Eva ate, but she was still human enough to need mortal sustenance.

“Ylva,” Carlos started. He stopped and pressed his glasses up onto his face before continuing. “Their souls are not in Death’s–with Death… They’re not dead.”

“That’s good,” Eva said slowly. Good unless they were trussed up like the people she had found. She elected not to mention anything about that.

“But we won’t have any plan for what to do until Nel finds them,” Zoe said. “You can rest until then. At the very least. I mean… we’re not forcing you to go to Hell–”

“It’s fine. They’re my friends. I won’t leave them there. But until Nel is ready, I think I’d like to rest.”

Zoe nodded, turned, and left. Carlos lingered for another minute, almost speaking a few times. In the end, he shook his head and followed after Zoe.

Eva shut her eyes and moved her head up against Arachne’s carapace.

It hadn’t felt like two weeks. Longer. A month. Maybe two. All with nothing but the hallway and its blood-red walls, black floor, and carpet. And two endless directions.

No Arachne. No Zoe. No Devon. No Juliana or Shalise.

Eva sighed in contentment as Arachne’s fingers brushed her arm.

Which reminded her of something. “You said you had a gift for me?”

“I think you’ll like it,” Arachne said. She skittered her way out from around Eva and moved to the women’s ward master bedroom.

When she returned, Eva found herself holding onto an actual wrapped present. With a bow and everything. A very silky bow. The wrapping was made of the same silvery material.

Careful to not disturb her back injury, Eva pulled open the wrapping and pulled out the box.

It was a clear plastic container. Inside was a… “mutilated hand?”

“Not just any mutilated hand,” Arachne said, radiating pride. “When we rescued Nel from Sawyer, he managed to escape. But, not before I got my claws into him. With Nel back and part of his hand…”

“We can find him.” Eva stared into Arachne’s wide smile and felt her own face twist into a mirror.

“I thought you might want a little vengeance.”

“Arachne,” Eva said, “I think I will kiss you.”

— — —

An uncontrollable shudder wracked through Nel’s body. It started at the useless lump of flesh her arm had become and worked its way through the rest of her body from her shoulder.

Given all the holes in it, keeping it out of the water would have probably been a good idea.

As it was, Nel did not care.

It was the first bath she had had in over two weeks.

Even better, it was in Lady Ylva’s bath. She never thought she would see this place again. She had been certain that her last sight was going to be whatever Sawyer pointed her chair towards.

Now, chin deep in hot water with her head resting in a perfectly shaped groove in the stone, Nel didn’t even care that the perverted gargoyles were watching her with their beady little eyes.

So enraptured was she in her little oasis of respite that Nel didn’t notice a second person entering the room until they slipped into the water and cozied on up to her.

Far too close for comfort.

Nel slipped a hand over her chest as she inched away from the woman with short and curly black hair. As her neck left the groove in the pool’s edge, the woman continued sliding along the little ledge in the water. Nel stopped, realizing that she wouldn’t have any peace so long as the other woman was here.

And it had been going so well too.

Shooting a glance at the woman’s chest through the crystal clear water, Nel caught sight of the small eyeball placed between her breasts.

An Elysium Nun. As Nel expected after their brief interaction the previous night. She might have even been told as much, but she was somewhat out of it until she woke up this morning. Most of her memories of escaping were hazy to some degree.

Hopefully, her memories of being under Sawyer’s care would go hazy in time.

Nel wasn’t counting on it.

Unlike the eyeballs rapidly darting about–looking hither and thither at every little thing–in Nel’s body, the other nun’s eye sat still in her chest. It stared dead ahead with a look that wouldn’t be out-of-place on Lady Ylva.

Nel let out a soft sigh of relief. The girl had no potential to become an augur. She wasn’t about to be Nel’s replacement. Since she had been rescued, Nel felt safe to assume that Ylva still wanted her.

The frown she had put on as the other nun slipped into the water deepened. Ylva wasn’t the one to rescue her.

“So,” the other nun said.

Nel started. She had been staring–frowning at the other woman’s chest for a few minutes. Clearing her throat, Nel looked up to meet the nun’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Nel said. She cringed at herself. Now it looked like she was apologizing for staring at the other woman. Clearing her throat again, she quickly added on, “I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Alicia, though Lady Ylva calls me Ali.”

“Nel.”

The soft trickle of water from one of the gargoyles was the only sound following her simple statement. Before the situation could get any more awkward, Nel held out her hand for a handshake. So long as they were going to be Lady Ylva’s underlings, she could at least try to be cordial to the–

Nel went stiff as a board as Alicia’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a tight hug. She held on until Nel gave her two very mechanical pats with her good arm on the nun’s back.

“Please,” Nel said quietly as Alicia pulled away, “don’t hug me again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding almost genuine until she giggled. “It’s the eyes, isn’t it? I never interacted with augurs much before. Well,” she giggled again, “except two that I had to terminate. But they don’t count.” She waved her hand off to one side like she was laughing off a joke.

Nel found herself inching away again. Maybe if she went slow enough then the other girl wouldn’t move closer. “Are you… alright?”

“Perfect,” she said with intensity. “In fact, I got to be useful to Lady Ylva today. She had me help that abomination they’ve got locked up in one of the other buildings.”

Nel kept her face as still as she could. Eva scared her more than Ylva did most of the time. She had been trying very hard not to think of her as an abomination even in her own thoughts. For a moment, she wondered what Alicia would do if she knew that Eva practically ran the place.

She thought better of it. Something was very wrong with the other nun. Better to keep her interactions to a minimum.

Her stomach sank like a cannonball in water as a few words made their way through the haze of her memories. Arachne had wanted Nel to fix Eva. There was a sudden dryness in her mouth as she worried she wouldn’t have a spine after her next encounter with the volatile spider-demon.

That creature scared her more than Eva.

Hopefully they would be too happy with Eva being back to pay her much mind.

As she was thinking, Genoa walked into her sight through the door behind Alicia.

She did not look happy.

Genoa marched right up to the edge of the bath, soiling the crystal clear water with dirt and grime that came loose off of her combat boots. She started her glare at Nel. After a moment, it turned to Alicia.

Who had a vapid smile on her face as she waved back.

By the time Genoa returned her attentions to Nel, she had pulled her knees to her chest with her one good arm wrapped around them. Her other arm floated uselessly in the water.

“Are you finished with your bubble-bath, Your Highness?” She spoke with a sneer on her face. A very nasty sneer.

Nel ducked her head down, but couldn’t break eye contact.

“Shall I fetch you a spot of tea and crumpets? Perhaps you would like me to tuck you into bed and read you a nice story.”

Genoa cracked her knuckles one at a time. Each pop sent a tremor up Nel’s spine.

It did more to the nun next to Nel. As Genoa’s knuckles cracked, Alicia flinched and twitched as if each one caused a small seizure.

“Or perhaps you would like to get out of the damn bath and find my daughter. That is why we bothered to rescue your worthless ass.”

“Now, now,” Alicia said with a quiver in her voice. “There’s no need to get–”

For a moment, Nel thought Genoa was going to plant her boot into the other girl’s face. In the end, she only turned her glare on Alicia.

It still caused Alicia to cower back in what was perhaps the first real emotion Nel had seen on her face.

“My daughter has been trapped in literal Hell for the past two weeks.” Genoa spoke in an unnatural calm that was somehow scarier than anything else she had said. “If you are not out of this bath in thirty seconds, I will start breaking things. Whatever that necromancer did to you and your arm will be like a light massage in comparison. Do you understand me?”

That woman has been spending entirely too much time around Arachne, Nel thought with a poorly suppressed shudder. She nodded anyway and rose to her feet. She didn’t even bother moving to the stairs, instead choosing to climb over the edge where she was.

Her mouth came close to betraying her. She couldn’t see across planes of existence and almost told Genoa as much. The only thing that stopped her–aside from the copious pain that would undoubtedly follow such a statement–was that she could see the outside world from Lady Ylva’s domain.

Given that she was relatively certain that they technically were in Hell just by being inside her domain, maybe looking through the rest of Hell wouldn’t be an issue. Unless all the other domains were protected with powerful anti-augur wards.

Nel bit her lip as she followed Genoa out of the room.

This must be what it is like to be handed a shovel and told to dig your own grave.

She just hoped that Lady Ylva would be kind enough to dig her back out.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.014

<– Back | Index | Next –>

The surface of the liquid was so close. Juliana could see the light glinting off the surface.

She stretched high, pulling herself up through the murky liquid with a long sweep of her arm. Her metal was gone, left back at the prison. All that she kept was around her arms. The two bracers barely made up enough to form a dagger or two.

And Juliana was very seriously considering ditching that much.

Her movements were slow and sluggish. Like she was swimming in honey. The water she had entered at the prison hadn’t felt like this. It had been normal water.

Well, normal as far as Juliana could tell.

The fall from way up in the air had been bad enough. She hadn’t even been able to reorient herself to face what she was falling towards. It was the liquid. Had she known, she would have taken a deep breath instead of screaming her lungs out.

Screaming never helped anyone. Her mother always gave the best advice ever and she had gone and ignored it.

Now she was struggling through the liquid with no air and the bracers were at least partly to blame for keeping her down.

The surface was within her grasp yet her fingers hadn’t broken through.

Her lungs burned. She had to force herself to keep her mouth shut and not breathe in any of the sticky liquid.

There were spots forming in her eyes.

That can’t be a good sign.

Juliana thrashed in the muck until she felt the tips of her fingers touch air.

She was so close.

Her hand cupped and crashed into the honey, attempting to pull herself up.

The black spots in her vision grew larger and larger until her face broke the surface.

Juliana wasted no time in sucking in as much air as her lungs could hold. Some of the honey oozing down her face flew into her mouth with the intake.

And Juliana couldn’t bring herself to care.

She went still. The honey was thick enough that she didn’t need to tread it; it just held her up all on its own. Juliana didn’t move a muscle. The honey slowly seeped underneath her, pushing the rest of her body and legs up to the surface.

Juliana waited until her rapid breaths slowed down to a manageable level before even turning her head.

As the spots in her eyes disappeared, she realized that her eyes hadn’t been open at all; whatever she had seen of the liquid had been nothing more than oxygen-deprivation induced hallucination. They were almost glued shut by the honey.

Once she managed to pry them open, a thin film of the gunk spread over her eyes. It didn’t cause any pain, but she flinched back anyway. She had to blink several times before it cleared away enough to properly see.

There wasn’t much to look at.

The sky was pitch black save for a pale white orb. A moon, perhaps? The crater in the center and the lines spreading out from the crater gave it the uncanny appearance of an eye.

Raising her fingers in the air, Juliana allowed some of the liquid to fall between her fingers.

It was black, as the water in the prison had been. But it didn’t move like water. It slipped between her fingers and around the sides of her hand, meeting back up at the back of her hand. From there, it stretched long and thin while some of the greater mass of liquid rose up to touch the drip.

Only when it connected did the stuff clinging to the back of her hand finally fall into the pool.

There was a thin film left coating her hand and arm.

Juliana shuddered. It couldn’t be a good idea to stay sitting in it. Though, she noted as her tongue found some of the stuff inside her mouth, it doesn’t taste bad.

Sweet. Maybe with a slight acidic tang to it. Honey hadn’t been a bad descriptor; it was rather like licking honey off of a nine-volt battery.

Not that she had ever tried that.

Her stomach growled, its hunger reawakened at the taste of something edible. Juliana spat it out. She could go on a while yet.

“If this is some kind of a sick joke Prax,” Juliana said. “I swear, if you dropped me in the hive of a giant bee-demon…” She trailed off as she glanced around her. “Prax? Shalise?”

No one was around. Not even other thrashings in the liquid. Nothing but a small wooden boat with a single oar resting on top.

Juliana started paddling her way over. Despite being unable to sink, it wasn’t easy. The honey continuously sucked her back to where she was, only giving her a few inches with every paddle.

Moving those ten feet was the hardest workout she had ever had. Given who her mother was, that was quite the feat. By the time she made it up and over the edge of the boat, her arms were burning and she was panting as hard as she had been immediately after surfacing.

She laid back against the bottom of the boat and sat, once again recovering. Most of the honey dripped off while she waited. Juliana still felt sticky with a thin film over her body and the less said about her hair, the better.

Juliana couldn’t think of a single thing better than a hot shower at the moment. A hot meal came close.

Finally having had enough, Juliana sat properly within the boat and grasped the oar. With a final look around for any sign of Prax or Shalise–neither of whom were anywhere in sight–she plunged the oar down into the black honey and pushed.

The initial force almost threw her out of her seat.

She had expected to use a lot of effort just to move the boat a few feet.

She had not expected the boat to shoot off like a rocket powered speedboat.

One side of the boat dipped almost into the liquid while the other side rose up into the air as the boat banked around in a tight circle. The raised side and lowered side reversed as it turned again. None of it was her doing. The boat was moving all on its own.

The boat came to a sudden stop, almost throwing Juliana over the bow. If she hadn’t been gripping the seat with all her might, she would have gone over.

As it turns out, she needn’t have bothered. The boat was sitting on the precipice of a sort of circular hole in the liquid. A waterfall–though none of the liquid actually appeared to be flowing. Before Juliana could try paddling backwards or jump from the boat, it tipped forwards.

Juliana’s iron-like grip on her seat was augmented by actual iron from her bracers as the boat sped vertically through the tunnel of honey.

The boat stopped once again before tipping over onto another flat plain.

By all means, she should have been upside-down. Or falling.

She wasn’t. She simply sat in the boat as it lazily drifted into a worn wooden dock. The moon was even still above her.

With rubber legs, Juliana made her way out of the boat. She did not want to stay on that wild ride any longer.

The moment she was safely onto the dock, the boat reversed, spun around, and dove out of sight down the hole in the liquid.

Turning away from the hole, Juliana looked over the rest of the little island attached to the dock. It didn’t look very big. She could probably run a lap around the perimeter in less than ten minutes.

An old single-room theater building sat at the center of the island. It came complete with a ‘NOW PLAYING’ sign, though the ‘Y’ was hanging upside down beneath the rest. Whatever was playing was missing far too many letters to read the title.

The rest of the building was in much the same state of disrepair. Wood panels had warped and broken. Most lightbulbs around the marquee had shattered and none of the whole ones were lit. Cobwebs stretched from corner to corner over the entrance.

Juliana looked around. She considered walking around the building to see if the island continued straight back. Prax had said his domain was a great castle. This was neither great nor a castle. After a moment of thought, she decided against wandering around. May as well start at the start and avoid backtracking later on.

To the haunted theater, she thought with a sigh.

On her way up the splintered wooden steps, Juliana kept a sharp eye out for any metal. She felt naked with only her bracers. Part of that could be that she actually was partially naked; her clothes had been damaged during her unconsciousness back at the prison.

There were nails holding down the steps and in the walls. They could work for extra metal, but individually, they weren’t worth much. Pulling them out would not only take a lot of time, but… well, the building looked unstable enough without her pulling it apart.

She did take the iron handles off the entryway doors, though that barely added enough to cover up her upper arms.

Juliana pushed open the doors.

And promptly froze in an open-mouthed gape.

Red velvet chairs with golden trim filled the theater hall. White marble pillars stretched up the walls to the ceiling. Craning her neck, Juliana stared in awe at the painting on the ceiling.

The chandelier–roughly the size of a car–covered half of it. White winged, halo capped angels wielded golden spears against red skinned, horned and winged demons who used nothing more than their bare hands for weapons. The chandelier obscured the far demon side, but at the back of the angels was a massive winged being, cloaked in golden armor and wielding a sword.

She hovered, observing the battlefield through a thin ‘Y’ slit in her helmet. Both hands were around her chest, holding her sword point down. The sword was big enough to reach below her feet.

The mural was so lifelike. They looked like they were moving.

Or…

Wait…

They were moving. Juliana followed one of the angels’ arms as it reached forward, sending its golden spear through the face of one of the demons. The spear came out, looking as pristine as it had before entering the poor demon.

Juliana gave a light whistle. “Michelangelo has nothing on this.”

When she finally tore her eyes away from the battle overhead to continue her inspection of the theater, Juliana barely had time to duck.

Falling back on the instincts her mother had drilled into her, the golden spear sailed harmlessly over her head.

She moved her hand to grip the spear. The moment her fingers brushed over it, the gold flowed out of the hands of the angel and over her arm.

It was not as heavy as she expected. Gold was supposed to be some of the heaviest stuff out there.

Looking down, Juliana gasped. Her skin was red. Her muscles had bulged out to be as thick as Prax’s had been. Her meaty fingers ended with sharp and black nails.

With her mouth open in a gasp, Juliana could feel her tongue. It reached out of her mouth almost on reflex. She could see it easily and there was still plenty left. She could have probably licked her own forehead if she had the desire.

She sucked it back into her mouth, feeling it as it brushed over a set of razor-sharp teeth.

Wide eyed, Juliana stared back at the angel.

And she gasped again.

The angel got over its shock of losing its weapon far quicker than Juliana got over being a demon. His white eyes brightened as he reached out a glowing hand.

Juliana was spared the touch of the light by another demon flying in from behind her and tearing the angel’s head clean off. White blood splattered over her face.

She almost lost her lunch then and there–not that she had anything to lose, having not had any food in a while.

Turning to block the sight of the corpse, Juliana gasped again.

She was at the head of the army of demons. At the very back, she could see a man-shaped amalgamation of rock and fire. His eyes blazed hatred out at his enemy.

For a single moment, his eyes met her own.

Juliana trembled.

She turned.

A burning vengeance filled her very soul.

Gold formed into a two-handed sword.

Juliana charged her enemy.

— — —

Juliana!

Where are you?

“Servant,” Shalise’s own voice came out of her own mouth, twisted by Prax, “your thoughts are too loud and they serve no purpose. Your mortal friend is not here nor could she hear you were she here.”

Where is she?

Shalise’s shoulders shrugged on their own.

What are you going to do about it?

Rather than answer, Prax directed her body up the carved stone steps leading to the massive castle. He had barely glanced over it when they arrived, but Shalise had a feeling–based on his emotions that she could pick up on–that he was attempting to act far more subdued about being in his own domain than he actually felt.

Prax approached the wooden gate. It was tall enough to fit a couple of elephants all stacked on top of one another.

And he promptly marched right into it, face first.

Prax stumbled backwards, rubbing his nose.

That’s my body. I’d appreciate it if it wasn’t battered and bruised when you get out of it.

He didn’t respond, instead using the next several minutes to look up and down the door.

When he finally decided to start pushing against the door, it took a good ten minutes to open it wide enough for Prax to slip through.

“Might be a little rusty,” he said.

The door?

“Me. Inside my domain, I should have been able to open it with barely a thought.”

Are you sure that we’re in your domain?

“Of course I am,” he grumbled as he started moving through the courtyard.

It wasn’t that impressive of a courtyard. Most of the square area was paved over with flagstone. The corners held small grassy areas, each with a tree. In the center was a large reflecting pool that, from the angle she managed to see as Prax walked, held the entirety of the castle’s tallest spire.

For a moment, she almost asked him to stop and look on for a few moments. She bit her tongue–metaphorically. There would be plenty of time for sightseeing after Juliana arrived.

Prax weaved through the corridors. He had to physically push open several doors on his way, though none were as large and heavy as the main gate.

The hallways weren’t much to look at. Save for the red rug in the center, everything else was gray granite stone. After a few turns, Shalise was completely lost.

Every hall looked exactly the same as the one that had come before it. There were no landmarks, no swords and shields hanging from the walls, no suits of armor or statues, no tapestries or flags. There weren’t even any fiery torches lining the halls.

Thinking about it, there wasn’t any lighting at all. Prax didn’t look down enough, but she was fairly certain that her body wasn’t casting any shadows. There was just some uniform ambient light that gave the place no tasteful atmosphere at all.

Disappointing, really. Prax desperately needed to hire an interior decorator.

Or not…

Prax rounded another corner.

That hallway was everything Shalise had imagined.

Red tapestries with black horns and wings–reminiscent of Prax’s regular body–lined the walls. Flames danced atop torches placed between the tapestries, giving the room a very warm color that moved as the fire moved.

There were no suits of armor, but plenty of statues. All of them depicted Prax in his normal body fighting elves. Utterly dominating them, really. Most had been torn apart violently.

One statue had him holding the head of a fallen enemy over his wide open mouth, letting the blood drip in.

Shalise was beyond happy that the statues were made out of bronze and not something extremely realistic.

It took her a moment to realize that Prax had stopped moving and was staring at the room as much as she was. Showing off for her.

A-a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?

“This is not supposed to be here.”

Where is it supposed to be?

“Nowhere.” He walked up and shoved one of the statues off its pedestal.

Hey! Shalise thought as it fell to the ground with a loud thud. It didn’t break. The floor wasn’t even damaged. With a mental sigh, Shalise thought, they’re better than empty halls. Though they are a little tasteless, I suppose.

Prax blinked, forcing Shalise’s vision dark for an instant. When her vision returned, the statue was back on its pedestal.

And it had changed. All of them had.

Shalise felt her embarrassment shoot through the roof as Prax turned to survey the room.

Gone were the scenes of battle. Half of the statues consisted of a very nude Prax performing muscle-man flexes in different poses.

If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, the other half of the statues were Shalise in similar poses. It wasn’t even her Prax-muscled body. It was her regular body.

“What are you doing, mortal?” Prax said. He had her teeth clenched together hard enough that she was worried they might crack.

Nothing! This is your stupid domain. I don’t want any of this!

As soon as the words came out of her mind, everything vanished. The castle’s hallway returned to the single red carpet and plain gray walls.

Shalise had never been happier.

Prax, Shalise could feel, was the incarnate of rage.

What,” he said, “did you do?”

— — —

Her bloody sword cleaved through another angel. She pressed her foot down on the golden spear laying in its grip and added its metal to her twisted armor.

Nothing had been able to pierce her armor for some time.

The demons rallied behind her unstoppable might.

The enemy was in disarray.

Routed.

All except for the judicator. She stared, unmoving save for the slowly flapping wings.

Juliana snarled. Her earth magic propelled her across the terrain. Her sword swept left and right, cutting down the retreating angels as if they were nothing more than flies.

The judicator finally made her move. With glacial power, she hefted her sword to an upright position.

And she moved.

Juliana brought her sword down to meet the upward swing of the judicator.

A demon dove at the judicator while their blades were locked. It simply exploded. Black blood splattered over Juliana.

Not a drop touched the judicator.

Juliana licked her lips, tasting some of the blood that made it through the holes in her helmet.

With renewed vengeance for her fallen comrade, Juliana kicked off the ground. Earthen spikes pinned down her opponent as Juliana’s blade came down on her head.

The ground shook, breaking down her spikes and sending dust into the air.

That didn’t stop her attack. The judicator couldn’t move in time.

Juliana’s eyes widened as her sword plunged through empty air and buried itself within the ground.

She tried to jump back.

A white-hot pain seared through her chest before she could move.

Looking down, Juliana saw the judicator’s massive blade sticking out of her armor. She hadn’t even felt it go in. It passed through like butter.

She looked back up to the glowing white eyes in the darkness behind the ‘Y’ shaped visor.

They looked… sad.

What was I doing?

Juliana’s sickness returned in full force as whatever possessed her died out. She promptly vomited black blood.

The judicator removed her sword. Again, not a speck of filth touched any part of the angel. She slowly turned from Juliana–who was standing solely through virtue of her ferrokinesis failing and hardening her golden armor around her.

She watched the wings sweep the angel away as her vision darkened.

The pain in her chest vanished as a light clapping noise echoed inside her head.

Juliana blinked. The theater was back. She was on the stage, looking out over the seats.

“Bravo, bravo. Good show, milady.”

Before Juliana could turn her eyes towards the front seat, she collapsed. First to her knees, then her face met the floor.

She gave a light groan as she manipulated as much gold off of her as she could manage. That stuff was heavy after all. Especially now that she was back in her normal body.

“Bit of an overenthusiastic bow, don’t you think?”

Juliana pushed herself up to a kneeling position and looked over at the marionette demon. As she watched, he reached up and slid a featureless mask off his face and over to one side. The strings puppeteering his hands danced around him as he moved.

“You–”

“Willie,” he said, standing from his seat and performing a bow of his own. “I cannot recall whether I introduced myself or not during our first meeting. I was in a bit of a rush before.”

Blinking, Juliana grasped her chest, feeling all around. There was no sign, not even the tiniest mark, of the angel’s spear or the hole it had made.

Juliana bent over and gagged. She could remember every moment of what happened. Cutting down all those angels. The blood. The liking it.

She spat out on the floor in front of her and tried to control her breathing. Juliana didn’t know how long she sat there, but it was a good while. All constantly thinking about what she had done.

It wasn’t real, she thought. Like a video game.

As she finally calmed down, Juliana looked up. Willie hadn’t moved. He just stood there, watching. It had to have been more than an hour, but he didn’t move.

Juliana spat on the ground one more time, trying not to think about tasting anything. “What was that?”

“I provided you with entertainment upon being summoned. As a theatergoing demon, I expect the same of visitors in my domain.”

“Your domain? How–I was supposed to be in Prax’s domain.”

“The gift I gave you marked you–”

“Like this?” Juliana held up her ring finger, wishing Ylva’s ring was on a different finger.

Willie tilted his head with a pained expression. “Not quite that strongly. Just enough that I could tell you had entered the waters of Hell. Quite the surprise. Nearly missed my chance to nudge you over to my humble abode.”

Juliana half rolled her eyes and half glanced around the exorbitant theater. From the stage, she could see a second floor. The place had to be bigger on the inside. Each of the second floor seats were filled by golden statues of half-humanoid bees. None of them were moving; given the honey outside, there had to be a connection.

“What are you doing in Hell, milady?”

Juliana frowned, wishing she had a proper answer.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.013

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Genoa started off with the easy ones. The slow, the sluggish, the immobile. None of them had the ability to move out of the way.

Most of the golems had the same weakness. While the sewn on demon bits had strength and durability, their human parts were just as weak as any other human.

Their creator had learned a few tricks since the attack on Brakket. A good number of the golems had armored plates stapled onto the human body. One, Genoa noted as she stabbed another through the throat, had a shiny black carapace that might have come from one of Arachne’s relatives.

Those ones could be dealt with after the crowd’s numbers had been pruned.

Genoa dropped to the ground. Being unable to blink thanks to whatever wards the nuns had set up was annoying, but not an insurmountable issue.

It just meant she had to move fast enough to dodge the jagged edge of her opponent’s rusty sword.

None of the golems at Brakket had been armed aside from whatever natural demonic attachments they had been fitted with. A sword wasn’t much different from an unusual limb, but if the necromancer gave them guns or figured out how to have them cast magic, she would need to watch her back.

Her dagger, sheathed in brilliant fire, dragged up the man’s chest as she stood. The thin trail of fire left behind spread out from the cut and enveloped him.

Genoa was forced to jump away from the heat, though she couldn’t complain. The hallway would be pitch black without the burning corpses scattered around the floor.

Raising her hand, Genoa ferrokinetically pulled against the golem’s sword. It tore from his weakened grip, spinning through the air as it flew towards her. Genoa took one step to the side, caught the blade by the handle, and used the momentum to swing around and take off the top of another golem’s head.

Sword in hand, Genoa twisted it into a barbed spear. Fire from her dagger leached out and enveloped the head of the spear just before Genoa buried it within the skull of another golem.

Glass from an overhead light shattered. Flecks of reflected fire danced in the shards as a scythe-like arm scraped down at Genoa.

She dashed forward, ignoring the sharp glass, and buried her dagger inside a golem’s chest.

Her companion was proving himself to be marginally useful. While Genoa tended to go straight for the kill–head shots, decapitation, and the like–just knowing that anything cut by her flaming dagger would burst into flames from within gave some peace of mind.

In the slight reprieve, Genoa glanced back at the alchemy professor. He stood at the doorway, barely having moved since the fight started, incinerating anything that came near him. Not much got close aside from the golems that Genoa passed by for more open targets.

His eyes twitched back and forth in the flamelight. They never stopped on any one thing for more than a second before darting to something else. Someone unfamiliar with the mind-acuity that pyrokinetic mages used might think he was on drugs. Or having a stroke.

Even knowing what was happening, it was somewhat unsettling. It was a testament to his ability, both in accelerating his mind and his pyrokinetic skill in general, that he was able to attack and manipulate the fire on her dagger to such a fine degree.

And not burn down the entire hotel.

The fire alarms and sprinklers hadn’t even gone off, though that might have something to do with the power being cut.

One of the armored golems moved to block her view.

Its arm was already swinging towards her.

Readying herself, Genoa used the earthen version of the self empowerment spell. Her skin hardened and her bones turned to steel.

The arm crashed into her, sending her smashing into and partially through a wall.

Cursing her inattentiveness, Genoa pulled herself out of the wall. A few slivers of wood made it past her defenses; most slivers centered on her legs where she struck a beam of wood running along the wall. Nothing deadly. The cuts, along with those she got from the shattered glass, might even make it into her collection.

Genoa smiled at her attacker with a crack of her neck. “My turn.”

She pulled at the spear of metal, yanking it out of the remains of the earlier golem’s face. It formed into a bar mid-air and hammered into the back of the armored golem’s leg.

It teetered but did not fall until the bar returned for a second pass.

Genoa spun out of the way of another sword wielding golem.

With a heavy nudge, the sword arced down on the armored golem’s legs.

Her dagger found its way to the sword-wielder’s throat, half removing his head and igniting him all in one swing.

Free from immediate attack, Genoa took hold of the new sword and the bar of metal. She shaped both into one massive spear.

With a grunt, she brought it down one-handed on the armored golem’s chest. Again and again until the armor cracked. With one final thrust–with the tip ignited from the flames coating her dagger–the spear plunged into the meat within.

Genoa wiped sweat from her brow and flicked it off her wrist, splattering the carcass. This barely qualified as a workout, but that didn’t stop the flames from heating everything up.

For a moment, she considered whether or not she should be worried about the oxygen levels in the room, or lack thereof. If nothing else, the professor seemed to know what he was doing and Genoa had yet to feel lightheaded, so she dismissed the concern.

Zoe should be here soon enough. If it was a problem, she would notice and would be able to provide a breath of fresh air.

Another bunch of flesh golems rounded the corner at the end of the hallway.

“How many of these things does he have? Is this ever going to end?”

“Unless I am much mistaken,” Wayne said in a clipped voice–a side effect of not toning down his processing speed enough, “you asked for this.”

Genoa’s lips curled into a grin.

“That I did.”

— — —

Devon stopped.

The wall looked inviting. Too inviting. Irresistibly inviting.

After incinerating a corpse on the floor that may or may not have been a zombie, Devon stumbled over to the wall and leaned against it.

He couldn’t go on much longer at this pace.

His feet ached. His legs ached. His hip wasn’t doing so well. Worse above all else, he was sweating.

Not for the first time in recent years, Devon started recounting and individually regretting several mistakes in his life choices that had led up to this point. Being born in this age was one of his first and greatest mistakes. It was followed closely by being raised by that deadbeat of a man. It was a wonder he had turned out so well with that being his ideal for most of his childhood.

Of course, those were far in the past. While mistakes, he didn’t have much option and he certainly couldn’t change it now.

More recently, he had beholden himself to Ylva in asking it to save Eva. Temporarily, true, but he was still its slave for the immediate future. It had been oddly generous in giving him only a few months of servitude. That only compounded his suspicion that it was intending to help Eva without his prompting.

Without that little deal, he wouldn’t be in this nightmare.

“Devon,” the professor snapped, “are you going to sit there all night?”

Devon shoved himself off the wall and marched across the landing to the next set of stairs. “Just catching my breath, girly.”

She made a pointed glance at a number painted on the wall. “This is only the ninth floor. I figured you would be in shape from climbing up to your ‘penthouse suite’ at the prison every day.”

“You think I walk up all that?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I suppose not. Regardless, we have been delayed enough as it–”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” He glanced up the stairwell. Only four floors left. And then…

And then back down.

“Maybe I’ll just throw myself out a window,” Devon mumbled to himself as he followed up the stairs after the professor.

“Did you say something?”

“Yeah. Mind your own business.”

At her impolite harrumph, Devon coiled his tentacle around the railing and used it to half drag himself up the staircase.

It had proven useful. For the most part. The lack of opposable thumb and fingers was surprisingly not that big of an issue. The tentacle’s dexterity combined with the suckers made up for that deficiency. For tasks that did require use of his fingers, he still had his other hand.

Tragically, it did not possess the carnivean’s raw strength. That came more from the demon’s innate magic than any musculature in the limb itself. While it worked as a replacement arm, he wouldn’t be tearing the limbs off of Arachne any time soon.

That it did not produce its own mucus made Devon happy. Very happy. That had been his main concern over attaching it in the first place. He might have had to line his trench coats in plastic. And his bed.

And everything, really.

“So,” hedged the professor, “you’ve been broody lately. Broodier.”

“And you’ve been nosy.”

“Just wondering what has been bothering you.”

“Bothering me?” Devon snorted. “My life’s work is mostly dead on her bed; she’s lucky she doesn’t need to eat often. I’ve been conscripted by Ylva to do its dirty work. And I’m here, with you, in this necropolis.” He paused, then added, “several other things as well. The little things do add up over time.”

“Eva is your life’s work?”

“Well,” Devon scratched his beard with his tentacle, “I was planning on finding more test subjects soon. Lady Ylva might keep me busy with her chores for–”

The professor stopped and turned at the landing. She sent a blade of razor wind off to one side, bisecting a zombie, on her way to face Devon. “What do you mean test subjects?”

“I was under the impression that Eva had mentioned our little arrangement to you…”

She shook her head.

“Ah.” Oops. Whatever, Eva can deal with it.. “Ask how well her treatment is going next time she is awake.”

“What treatment?”

“Ask her.”

Devon slipped around the still professor and continued up the next flight of stairs. He had just gotten into a rhythm and wasn’t about to stop for a trifle of inane chatter. Especially if she was just going to repeat back whatever he said as a question.

He froze at the top of the next landing.

A demon leaned against the wall next to the door to floor twelve.

Not a half-corpse half-demon abomination. This thing was an actual, full-bodied demon–full-bodied for an eight year old, perhaps. It was about the size of an eight year old. But still, a real demon.

And one he recognized.

At least, Devon recognized parts of it. The tentacles hanging down from its head matched the green with black cross-marks on his substitute arm. One of the two larger tentacles was shrunk slightly. Still growing back, perhaps.

It turned its head towards him, revealing empty eye sockets surrounded by dark black rings.

Devon slipped his arm behind his back despite the demon’s lack of working eyes. As the demon opened its mouth, Devon tensed.

“I’m sorry,” it said in a low, basso rumble.

He blinked. That was not what he had expected.

It took him a moment to realize that the words were aimed at the professor.

A very ill-looking professor, Devon noted with a glance towards her.

“We couldn’t feel the effects of your ring all that well without you wearing it. Naturally, we didn’t know what it was until afterwards. Our summoner just said that he wanted a ring.

“We were,” the demon paused to shudder, “talked to about that little incident. The jezebeth did not make it.”

It took a moment for the professor to open and shut her mouth enough times to form words. “D-didn’t make it?”

Devon rolled his eyes. She had been competent thus far. Being waylaid by a memory? He shook his head.

“That particular jezebeth no longer exists in any way, shape, or form.”

The professor gave a slow nod, looking fairly relieved as she did so. “And you?”

The carnivean smiled. It didn’t have as many teeth as Arachne, and only a handful were sharp. But demons all had the same smile.

An unnerving smile.

“Well, I can check apologizing off my list of things to do. Still have a debt to Hel, but that is more of a long-term thing.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Devon took note of the professor clenching her fist. If they didn’t have to fight, Devon did not want to fight. He moved to grip her arm in an attempt to defuse her.

“That’s it?” She spoke in a voice almost too low for Devon to hear, and he was right next to her.

“That’s it?” she repeated, louder. “‘I’m sorry?’ You tortured me for what felt like days! And all you have to say is that you’re sorry?”

“You can go on if you want,” the carnivean said with a flip of its tentacle towards the ascending staircase. “That guy summoned me almost as soon as I got out of the void, but nothing in my contract requires me to fight you. Frankly, I’m hoping that bastard fail–”

“What if I want to fight you?”

Devon gripped the professor’s arm, still trying to keep his tentacle arm out of view.

She shoved him off with a glare.

“I’m relatively certain that I can defend myself, ring or not. And I will.” The carnivean scratched its head with its own tentacles. Its more human-like arms sat still at its side. “Look, if it helps, I am genuinely sorry. Really.”

“You’re not sorry that you tortured me. You’re sorry that you got tortured.”

“Even if that was true–”

Which it is, Devon thought.

“I wasn’t torturing you. That was all the jezebeth. I mean, maybe I broke an arm and a leg. That isn’t torture, that’s just part of the fight. And you seem to be climbing the stairs without trouble, so I assume it is all fixed–.”

“Shut up.”

The professor lifted her arm, pointing her dagger at the carnivean.

Devon gripped her arm and yanked it down to her side while whispering in her ear. “Listen girly, if that thing is letting us pass, we pass. I know you didn’t see it because of your injuries, but that thing did a number on Arachne. It had broken and missing limbs as well as its carapace cracked in several places. Think about what it is going to do to us.”

The muscles in her arm did not release their tension in the slightest.

“Let’s get the nun and get out.” Devon grit his teeth together. He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Think of the children.”

The professor blinked and glanced down at Devon.

He released her arm and turned away before she could say a word. Whatever mania had taken her subsided with that statement.

She did not lift her arm again, nor did she strike in any other way.

She simply nodded.

“Now then,” Devon said with a glance towards the carnivean, “if you’ll excuse us, we will–”

“Us?” The carnivean turned its vacant look on Devon. “I don’t believe I mentioned you getting a free pass.”

Devon went very still. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the professor tightening her grip on her dagger. “I’m with her,” he said with a jerk of his head in the professor’s direction.

“You have something of mine.”

“Yeah?” Devon’s arm squirmed beneath his sleeve. “You weren’t using it. Cost of battle, if you wanted to keep it, you shouldn’t have lost.”

“Oh yes, I am well aware. I can feel her here. If I see that eight-eyed lying sack of meat again… Well, she has as many limbs as I do and four times the eyes. I’m sure I can find a way to repay her.”

Devon leaned over and mumbled in the professor’s ear. “Maybe it is a good thing that Arachne disappeared.”

“But,” the carnivean shouted, taking a step forwards.

Devon and the professor took a step back.

“That is neither here nor there. You may keep that part of myself. You may even freely walk past me.”

Sighing, Devon ran his fingers through his stringy hair. It was getting to the point where a trim wouldn’t be a bad thing. “What do you want?”

“Just one teensy tiny little favor.” The thing held out a hand–or a tentacle–and offered out a small black rectangle.

Devon flared the little ball of fire hovering in front of him, brightening the landing.

“A book?” It barely qualified as such. Almost more of a leather-bound pamphlet. There couldn’t be more than a handful of pages inside. “Probably a beacon as well, right? I’m not touching that.”

“Details for a special ritual, actually. I’ve already got a beacon set up just in case I need it.”

Devon frowned as he snatched the book out of its grip. He was only vaguely aware of the professor leaning over his shoulder while he flipped through the pages. With every page turned, his eyebrows crept up his forehead.

“Is this a joke?” The woman at his side half shouted in his ear.

The book almost slipped from his tentacle’s grasp at her sudden voice. He scrambled for a moment to keep it in his hands. It was far too valuable to let fall.

“You want us to open a portal to the Unseelie Queen?”

“Well, I want someone to open it. They only answer mortals. I was going to have the necromancer do it, but I’ve seen him tear apart demons just to see how they work. He wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to kill the Unseelie Queen.”

“You’re still in one piece,” Devon mumbled.

“He ran out of time, I think. Just wanted extra muscle for fending off nuns. Guy is an amateur at contracts or I might be obligated to fight you.

“But that is off-topic. I have a wish,” the thing said. “And I have a feeling that the unseelie will be far more sympathetic than the seelie bastards.”

Devon frowned. Apart from a few of the lowest tier unseelie–Arthfael the cait si was the only one he could actually name–he didn’t have much interaction with any fae. All of them, seelie and unseelie, were far to chaotic for his tastes.

The professor butted in. “You realize that all deals with the fae go poorly, right?”

“It is all about the phrasing. That and the payment. I just happened to lift a few souls from around the hotel. I should have more than enough to get what I want.”

“You what?” Devon shouted, dropping the book as he took a step backwards. With a thumb aimed at the professor, he said, “do you even know whose ring she’s wearing?”

“Of course I do,” it said with a flippant wave of its tentacles. “Payback is half the reason I am doing this.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed. Permanently. Us too. How do you even have souls? Shouldn’t the reapers have–”

“As incompetent as the necromancer is in diablery, he knows his way around Death. I’d be surprised if a reaper could set foot within this hotel for the next hundred years with the wards he erected.”

“Ylva should be able to destroy the wards. Or find someone who can. Turn the souls over to it and curry favor with Death. He is more powerful than the Unseelie Queen.”

“But is he willing to grant my wish? I think not.”

“What good is your wish when you are dead? There are two goddesses of Death sitting around in Hell. Your domain won’t keep them out. Even if you hide out on Earth, Hades and the Baron freely roam around. Not to mention all the reapers, banshees, dullahan, and everything else in their service. Dullahan specialize in hunting down thin–”

“You sure care a lot about me. Touching. I think I’m tearing up.” It rubbed a tentacle around the darkened edge of one eye.

“I care about me. And you are trying to drag me into this souls business. I’ll open a portal to the damn bitch, but find a different payment for the fae or I may as well cut off my arm right now.”

The carnivean tensed.

Devon gripped both of the professor’s arms and pulled her in front of him, eliciting a yelp from the girl.

Just in time for a tentacle to come to a screeching halt inches from her nose.

“Don’t fight back and don’t move yourself,” he said in her ear. Her actively moving to block the tentacles might justify the carnivean attacking her. Devon doubted he would last long without his shield.

Devon flared his flames, tossing them around the professor’s body while pulling her into the path of each tentacle.

Quite the difficult task. There was only one professor. The carnivean had more than one tentacle.

One found its way over the professor’s shoulder and almost made it around his neck.

Devon had already raised his hand in preparation for another attack. He gripped the tentacle and sparked the flames inside it.

It shrieked, pulling the tentacle out of his hand before he could do more than superficial damage.

“You’re cheating,” it said.

“Think it’s easy to fight while dragging a woman around?” Devon quipped as he tried to incinerate another tentacle.

“This plan isn’t working,” the professor hissed as Devon shoved her into the path of a tentacle.

Her moving left Devon wide open to another tentacle. It coiled around his tentacle arm and yanked, dragging him out from behind the professor and putting him face to face with an angry carnivean.

Had that arm had bones, he would have suffered a dislocation at the very least.

He clasped down on it and started filling the tentacle with fire.

Another tentacle coiled around his hand and spread his arms wide. The carnivean stood just in front of him with plenty extra limbs left to fight with.

Devon gave a half-glance towards the professor. “Well, I’m open to suggestions.”

“How about you open my damn portal before I tear you in two,” the carnivean growled.

Devon leaned back, winding up. With a grunt, he slammed his head down onto the carnivean’s head.

His vision split into double.

Triple.

Quadruple.

“They make it look so easy in the movies…”

The five sets of carniveans turned black as Devon passed out.

— — —

Nel patiently sat in her chair.

She didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The restraints held her down to her chair as tightly as the day she woke up in it. It had become somewhat disgusting; she tried not to think about it too much.

No. Thinking about it didn’t matter. None of her thoughts could affect the world around her at the moment. No matter how hard she tried, she could not access any form of magic. She couldn’t even get a glimpse of whoever had the necromancer all worked up.

He had called them her old comrades. The nuns probably. All hope of being rescued had died with that simple line.

At least they would kill her quickly. She wouldn’t have to suffer through Sawyer’s experiments any longer.

Nel tried to avoid glancing at the blob of flesh in the corner of the room. It wasn’t easy when half of her was trying to analyze what exactly the bag of flesh was doing with a couple of her eyes implanted within.

As far as she understood from Sawyer narrating to himself, that was a failed attempt at replicating her augur abilities. There was another, more successful eye-blob that had been moved somewhere else. Nowhere near her ability, but possibly on par with glimpsing.

Then again, it might be on par with her abilities now. She hadn’t had any chance to actually test it out, but her entire arm was nothing more than a withered husk of its former self.

That… that freak had stolen her eyes. All of them in one arm, up to her shoulder.

She doubted it even needed to be bound to the chair. The magic that kept her arm shape and function mostly normal had vanished along with the eyes. She couldn’t even feel anything from it. No pain. No movement of any muscles. Just a useless lump of flesh.

Not that it mattered. She was going to be nothing more than a lump of flesh and bone soon enough.

Hopefully the nuns will be here soon, Nel thought as she eyed the zombie shambling towards her. As much as she did not wish to die, a lightning bolt to the brain sure beat out being eaten to death.

It was that stupid girl with the stitches. It was all her fault. She left the door open on purpose. Nel being captive was Des’ fault. If she hadn’t started that stupid attack on the school…

Watching the little girl’s torture session under her father had provided a few delightful moments of catharsis.

Until he had stitched up her mouth and turned his attentions to Nel, that is.

With a sigh, Nel shut her eyes. It was the only control still afforded to her. She wasn’t about to watch the zombie start eating her.

Her eyes snapped open at the sucking noise just in front of her–not unlike the sound of boots being pulled free of mud.

The zombie had five black needles poking through its face. The entire body was thrown against one wall. Blood splattered out as the wall cracked from the force of the impact.

A figure stood, shadowed in the darkness where the zombie had been. Limbs twitched and jittered behind it, looking like skeletal wings of an angel. Eight glowing eyes stared down at her.

Arachne.

Relief flooded through Nel. She would have sunk into her chair had the restraints been looser.

Her relief turned sour as Arachne just stood there. She wasn’t moving.

Just staring.

In the blink of an eye, Arachne had her face half an inch away from Nel’s own. Her white teeth stood out in a very unfriendly smile.

“If you do not save my Eva, everything you have experienced here will look like a vacation to paradise. Nothing Ylva says or does will save you. Do you understand?”

That sinking feeling in the pit of Nel’s stomach grew. Other than being stabbed with Sawyer’s dagger, she had no idea what happened to Eva or why Arachne thought she could fix anything. For a moment, Nel almost wished that the necromancer would come back.

She nodded anyway. Or tried to–the restraints were too tight. Hopefully rapid blinks would suffice.

Arachne’s limbs snapped forward, severing her bonds all at once.

Nel tried to stand. Her good arm shook as she tried to pull herself out of the chair.

She made it, only to have her legs give out from under her. Nel collapsed, grasping at Arachne’s knees.

The demon took a step backwards. “You’re disgusting.”

Nel opened her mouth in an attempt to say, ‘I know.’ Nothing but coughs came out.

How long had it been since she had last spoken, or gotten proper food and water. The gruel she had been fed through a tube in her restraints had been nothing but putrid muck.

A week at least. Two? The days blurred together after a while.

And in all that time, she hadn’t once stood on her own two feet.

Sharp claws reached down, uncaring as to whether or not they scraped against one of her eyes. She was hoisted up and over Arachne so that her stomach was on one of the demon’s shoulders.

Arachne turned to leave the room and bumped into Genoa and someone who looked vaguely familiar. The man held a ball of flames in his hand, lighting up the room.

Both of whom took one glance at Nel and wrinkled their noses.

“Is she alive?” the man asked.

Nel would have shrunk in on herself had she the energy to care. She couldn’t look that bad, could she?

Genoa took one glance around the room. “Where’s Zoe?”

“We decided splitting up would be prudent given the situation. I showed up just in time too. Dear old Ylva’s slave was about to be a zombie snack,” Arachne said with a gesture towards the splattered remains on the wall. “If you didn’t find her, she’s probably still making her way up here.”

Frowning, Genoa nodded slowly. “Let’s go pick them up and get out of here.”

Nel forced her shaking arm in the direction of the bubbling lump of eye-infested flesh. “My eyes,” she coughed out. “I need them.”

All three turned toward the corner of the room. Everyone winced away.

“I already have one disgusting sack of flesh. Someone else can take the other.”

Genoa and the man shared a glance before the man sighed. He took off his suit jacket and wrapped up Nel’s eyes. Tying the sleeves together, he picked it up and held it as far from his body as he could manage.

As they started hustling down the hallway, jolting Nel up and down, Genoa half turned her head. “Did you find the necromancer?”

“He escaped. Mortals like to go hunting, correct?” Arachne leaned her head to one side–away from Nel. Her hair tendril things brushed against Nel’s skin, some poking her in her eyes.

Probably on purpose.

“I think Eva will enjoy a nice and relaxing hunting trip once she gets back on her feet.”

“My daughter–”

“Yes, yes,” Arachne said as they entered the stairwell. Nel could almost feel her rolling her eyes and Nel wasn’t certain that they could actually roll. As it was, her claws just dug further into Nel’s backside. “I am certain that Eva will want to rescue the mortal children as well.”

“That’s very–”

A deep, rumbling voice interrupted Genoa. “What do we have here?”

The voice came from a little eight-year-old with a head full of tentacles. Zoe Baxter stood across the landing from the tentacle girl with her dagger out in a fighting stance.

Devon Foster lay on the floor, face down.

“I’ve been looking for you, Arachne.”

Again, Arachne cocked her head to one side. Again, Arachne poked her stiff hair tendrils into Nel’s eyes. “Have we met?”

“You stole my eyes. And then killed me. After you said you would let me go, you lying bit–”

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t really keep track of pathetic demons like you. Still, that was what, two or three months ago? You got out of the void quick.”

“Naturally.”

Her voice unnerved Nel. Something about the deep bass coming from what looked like a child sent her hairs on end.

“One such as I,” the tentacle girl continued, “is far more powerfu–”

“How often do you die to be so experienced in escaping the void?”

“Stop interru–”

“I suppose acquiring that experience is laudable, though.” The disdain was absolutely dripping from every word out of Arachne’s grinning mouth. If nothing else, she was enjoying herself. “Get good enough at coming back and you might return before your opponent has a chance to heal. Of course, your eyes are still missing and one of your tentacles is shriveled. Maybe you should work on healing a–”

“I’ll tear out your spine or whatever passes for it.”

The tentacle demon jumped up the stairs at them, flailing her tentacles around her.

Nel tried to scream. Her hoarse voice wouldn’t allow it.

Arachne didn’t even move.

The tentacle demon was struck simultaneously by lightning, fire, and about a hundred silver spikes. The fire and lightning blasted her into a wall while the spikes nailed her down. She struggled for a moment before hanging there, limply.

“I beat you on my own. And now you think to attack me while I’m surrounded by my master’s allies?”

Arachne casually walked up to the pinned demon. Her hand thrust through the demon’s face.

A purple void opened on the wall behind the tentacle demon and she was dragged in by a few dark tendrils.

Before the portal shut, Arachne called out. “Maybe next time you should consider who your betters are. Then again, I could always use a servant of my own.”

Arachne turned to face the rest of the group. Zoe flicked her dagger towards Devon, lifting him up in the air along with a small black book. The other two looked at each other with the man eventually giving a shrug.

“Demons,” he said as if that explained everything.

Genoa returned his shrug. “Any reason to stay?”

“Let’s get the nun back to my Eva,” Arachne said, absolutely bouncing on her heels.

Again, jolting Nel all over the place.

And Nel couldn’t bring herself to care.

They were finally headed home. To Lady Ylva.

And her glorious bath.

<– Back | Index | Next –>

004.012

<– Back | Index | Next –>

Abominations this, sacrifice for the people that. Does Brother Maynard never tire of hearing himself speak?

Standing at attention while listening to speeches about the glory of a combat death in the service of fellow men was possibly one of the most tedious things Ali had ever experienced.

Especially when, despite the necromancer being present, their primary goal was the hunting of one of their own. The rogue augur Nel Stirling would surely be comforted by the false sorrow projected by Brother Maynard in having to terminate her.

“Go, my sisters, and do your best endeavors.”

It took real willpower not to roll her eyes. As it was, Ali still glanced up to the overcast night sky and let out a small sigh through her nose.

There hadn’t been any big speeches prior to assaulting Ylva’s compound. No time.

Apparently, there was time now.

Ali much preferred it without. The speeches might have been intended to motivate, but they had the opposite effect. Brother Maynard had to know how it sent her fellow sisters’ hearts into their boots. There were only so many times one could hear about the heroes of the grave before adopting a fatalistic outlook.

Maybe that was the intention. Maybe not.

Either way, it didn’t matter to Ali. She didn’t have any plans to stick around.

When she turned her eyes back to Brother Maynard, he wasn’t talking. His eyes were locked on Ali.

She licked her lips and swallowed.

After a moment, he finished what he had been saying. “…we’ll sever. But your foes will be fierce and ruthless. Most importantly, they’ll be unknowns. The Source will be analyzing the necromancer’s constructs. We currently believe that they will behave as regular flesh golems, but be prepared to use your own judgment.”

At least it isn’t raining, Ali thought as her mind wandered away from the speech once again.

She felt her before she saw her. A warm, comforting feeling centered around the skull implanted within her chest. Ali started to smile before she caught herself.

Brother Maynard cut off his speech a moment later. As one, he and the nuns turned to look down the street.

A giant stood out, silhouetted against the dark alley.

As one, the inquisitorial squad’s eyes burned white. All of them raised their arms.

All except for Ali. She hadn’t even connected. There was no point. Nothing they did would be able to harm Lady Ylva.

Ylva proved that by raising an open palm. She clenched her grip and tugged.

As one, the burning eyes died out.

Gasps echoed around the assembled inquisitors. Two fell to their knees. One, a certain Sister Beck, actually threw up.

Only two were unaffected. Brother Maynard did not possess the necessary implants to connect. Ali did not connect in the first place.

“Your magic was a gift. A privilege. Privileges can be revoked.”

Ali watched out of the corner of her eye as Brother Maynard’s crystal thaumaturgical focus slipped down his sleeve and into his hand. He twisted the crystal and pointed it at the demon.

Water formed around Ylva, encapsulating her.

He intends to drown her? Ali actually started laughing, drawing a few looks from the nuns. Several of them had pulled out their spare foci, but none moved to attack.

The outside of the water capsule frosted over with ice.

From within the water, Ali could see nothing had changed about Ylva save for a slight quirk of her head.

Brother Maynard was not finished. He conjured several sharpened rods of ice and plunged them into the sphere.

One pierced through Ylva’s arm. Another entered her stomach and exited her back. Both legs were pinned to the ground by two more.

All-the-while, Ylva did nothing. The only movement was at the corners of her mouth. They tipped downwards.

Ali shivered, barely noticing that several of the nuns had followed Brother Maynard’s lead in piercing the snow globe. No fire or lightning, they weren’t taking chances with melting the shell. They stuck with stone and extra ice.

Ylva could escape. Ali knew she could. This was a daughter of Hel for God’s sake! Ali had done her research since returning to the Elysium Order. She knew what those touched by Death could accomplish. If Ylva possessed even a sliver of her mother’s power, she should be able to wade through the assembled chapter of inquisitors without a scratch.

So why didn’t she?

Was she actually that weak?

Or… no. Ylva had turned her eyes to Ali.

They stared. A wordless communication passed between the two.

And Ali realized the truth. That probably wasn’t even the real Ylva. Some effigy in her likeness was trapped in that bubble.

No. This was a test. For her.

Ali broke eye contact with Ylva to look at Brother Maynard.

And she hesitated.

She held no particular love for Brother Maynard. He had all but admitted that there were no plans to rescue her after she was captured. She had been left for dead. Or worse.

But that wasn’t unexpected. Ali held no special position. A new internal affairs inquisitor could be trained as her replacement. They had probably already started before Ali returned; a few others had died in that failed assault and would have needed replacing. What was one more?

Ali’s eyes twitched back to Ylva.

Just in time to watch a rock enter the front of her skull and exit the back of her neck. Her eyes never wavered from their position on Ali.

The nuns and Brother Maynard continued pelting her with projectiles.

The demon–for she was, without a doubt, a demon–had tortured her.

Brother Maynard had never done that. At least not so obviously. Some of the punishments for various transgressions in the order skirted the lines.

If Ali considered for a moment, Ylva hadn’t actually hurt her. Ylva’s presence had always been a comfort. She stopped the turning, and the clicking. So long as Ali remained cordial, Ylva gave her a reprieve from the wheel.

Really, all the torture was her own fault. Ali had to be restrained. She was a danger to others and herself. All the time she spent refusing Ylva or otherwise annoying her–which inadvertently led to the wheel starting up–had been entirely her fault. She was still berating herself about the time she spat in Ylva’s face.

And wasn’t the situation now the exact same thing in reverse? Ylva was taking a beating. Being punished–no, punishing herself for what Ali forced her to do inside the torture chamber.

Within the ice-covered sphere, Ylva smiled. A kind and understanding smile.

Ali smiled back.

Ylva wanted her to be happy. Whatever choice she made.

A few giggles escaped Ali’s smile as she turned her eyes towards Brother Maynard.

With a thought, Ali connected to the source. Power and information flooded through her veins.

There it was. The information about her target. “Subject: Brother Rudolph Maynard,” she said.

Several of the nearby nuns turned her way with wide eyes. A few realized that she had connected and attempted to connect on their own, if their clutching at their chest and falling to their knees was any indication.

Ali paid them no mind as she continued to read aloud from the source. “Crime: Transgressions against the property of Lady Ylva, daughter of Hel. Response: Termination.”

Brother Maynard, so concentrated on attacking Ylva, turned to Ali only after she had finished her announcement. His eyes started narrow. They widened as he raised his focus in her direction.

It was too late.

The holy flames that Ali had conjured were upon the Elysium monk in an instant.

His screams resonated with Ali’s uncontrollable giggles.

Ylva wanted Ali to be happy. She made her choice.

She wanted Ylva to be happy too.

— — —

“So,” Catherine said, breaking the ice.

She allowed herself to smile at her own internal joke.

On the streets beneath them, Ylva’s ice ball shattered. A mostly whole and healthy Ylva joined up with the mad nun in mowing down the inquisition. The show was somewhat fascinating to watch. The way the nun continued to laugh while killing her former comrades… she was beyond broken.

Whatever tricks Ylva had done to avoid having her skull crushed had piqued Catherine’s interest.

She quickly squashed her curiosity. As a succubus–and not even a ‘real’ one at that–there was nothing Catherine could do to match something like Ylva’s power.

Again, her mind wandered back to that question Eva had asked.

What options are available for you gaining ‘power?’

The girl didn’t know what she was talking about. A lesser succubus didn’t just become a real succubus. Learning the paltry magic tricks used by mortals wouldn’t change her into a higher tier of being. Nothing she ever learned could ever compare to something like Zagan and his ridiculous ability to alter reality itself.

The only thing that was within her reach that might surpass Zagan was her being touched by Void himself. And that was so far out of her reach that thinking about it was nothing more than wasted time.

There were rumors that Zagan, along with several others among the royalty, were gods and goddesses of Void, but Catherine did not believe that if only because they weren’t powerful enough.

Shaking the thought from her mind, Catherine realized that she hadn’t followed up on her little icebreaker.

She glanced up at her–ugh–partner. Not a partner partner. The thought of that made her want to vomit. And vomiting was something demons simply did not do.

“Why are we here?”

Golden eyes flicked over, meeting hers.

Catherine went very still until Zagan turned back to the battle below.

As soon as he did, she let out a soft sigh of relief and withdrew her cellphone from her pocket.

She had made the most amazing discovery not five days prior. A most fascinating method of distracting oneself from any ongoing duties–such as being dragged out to some no-name city to watch a few nuns die.

Games had been around in some form or another since ancient times, but nothing from her last visit to the mortal plane could match up to electronic games. She could only hit a hoop with a stick so many times before going insane.

It took only a handful of hours to discover games on her work computer that allowed her to play with real humans in real time. Her demonic nature gave her several advantages in terms of reflexes and dexterity and Catherine ensured those pathetic mortals knew of her superiority at every available moment through liberal use of her computer’s microphone.

“We are here,” Zagan said, startling Catherine enough that she nearly dropped her phone, “because something has been happening down in Hell. Something strange. Violent tremors tear through domains heedless of the owner’s desires. Just the other day, there were about five or so very close to one another.”

Catherine frowned. “You were in Hell the other day?”

“Every day, for two weeks now. I have a sort of experiment that I am running to determine the–”

“You’ve been in Hell? Martina has been flipping her lid!”

Zagan turned to her with one eyebrow raised.

Clearing her throat, Catherine revised her statement. “I mean, she has been concerned about your absence. It is ruining some plans for some new club of hers.”

“Ah yes, the demonology club. Would you believe that she wanted to hire the embryonic girl’s master to teach children a few nuances of diablery? Now she wants me to do it.”

“Sounds like a terrible idea. Or great. Depends on how much you care about mortal children.”

“Oh, I’m not opposed to it in concept. I have no desire to be the instructor. Seems like a waste of my time, yeah?” He paused and turned to Catherine with a golden glint in his eye. With a silver voice, he said, “you might make a good–”

“Suggest me to Martina and I’ll–”

“What? Hurt me?”

He laughed.

Catherine turned away with a bad feeling about the future. In a mad effort to change the subject, she said, “but that doesn’t answer the question. Why are we here, now, watching this massacre?”

He turned back to face the streets. “The hel seems odd to me. Why is she here? Interacting with mortals on a daily basis? Protecting them?”

Frowning, Catherine looked down at the streets herself. Only six of the nuns were alive. It looked like they might stay that way. None of them had a weapon in their hands and all of them were cowering together.

Ylva was holding the half-crying half-laughing nun against her very voluptuous chest. Catherine crushed the flicker of envy with a disgusted shake of her head.

“And then she goes and does that. Kills a good fourteen Death worshipers.”

Catherine frowned as she glanced around. “Probably not very good ones then. Or this is sanctioned. Someone would be hunting her down by now. The Baron himself maybe.”

“Possibly,” Zagan hummed. “I’ve never heard of a rogue Hel. And these were human hunters rather than undead hunters. Despite being part of the same organization, they may not count for much.

“Either way, I’m not certain that Ylva is related in the slightest to what is occurring with Void.”

“Wait… Void? As in, our Power, Void?”

“I said that there were tremors–earthquakes, if you will–in Hell. And Hell…”

“Is Void,” Catherine said softly. Her breath caught in her throat as she made the connection. “Someone is attacking Void Himself?”

Zagan shrugged. “Maybe He just came down with a little illness.” He turned away from the sight of Ylva ordering the six survivors to deliver a message to their superiors. “Come,” he said. “We shall stop by Martina’s office. I’ll check in before returning to hell. And maybe remind her about your upcoming position as head demonologist.”

Catherine sighed, but did not protest. Her mind was too busy racing over what Zagan had said.

— — —

Arachne swung out of the elevator shaft, landing in front of the two humans. Both backed up partially down the hallway they had just come from.

She kept her eyes locked on the widely grinning male, Sawyer.

The little girl with the stitched shut mouth did not even register as a threat.

“Look who we have here, Des.” There was a subtle twitch of his fingers, disguised by waving his hand as he spoke.

Arachne did not miss it. She reacted immediately, jumping to the side. As she jumped, the extra legs jutting from her back swiped through the air she had just vacated.

Ethereal mist scattered. It reformed into an old man at Sawyer’s side. He hovered half a foot off the ground. All of him–clothes, skin, and hair–glowed pale white and semi-translucent. With vacant eyes, he stared into empty space.

Sawyer clicked his tongue without letting his smile slide. “Distasteful beings. Weilks was always better at commanding them. Much faster.”

Again, Arachne was forced to spin to the side. Her legs acted as scythes as they disrupted another ghost.

“But if being possessed is your weakness, well, let’s just say that I have been expecting you.”

A chill penetrated her legs. All of them. Arachne twisted out of her spot and slashed through a whole batch of ghosts.

One of her legs didn’t react in time with the other three. It pulled back before plunging straight through her exoskeleton.

With a growl, Arachne reached behind herself and tore the offending limb from her back at the joint.

Sawyer let out a small chuckle. “Self mutilation? I hope you are prepared to tear the rest off.”

Arachne was moving before Sawyer finished a single word, running straight at him. Whatever he was using to control and tether the ghosts had to be on his person. Nothing big and obvious. He was a slim man wearing slim clothing. There were no bulging pockets on his jacket or his pants.

Something smaller then.

He had a gold ring around his ring finger and a silver necklace with a pendant on the end. Both were possibilities. Unfortunately, the ghosts could be tied to a flat card in his pocket as well.

A wall of ghosts appearing in front of Arachne had her skidding to a stop. While she could disrupt them, charging through that many would be foolish.

“Des, my sweet honey, be a dear and collect that leg for me.”

Through the hazy wall of ghosts, the little girl’s eyes went wide. With slow, jerky movements, she stumbled forwards.

Possessed as well? And fighting it by the looks of things.

She felt a sudden pressure to her left. With a snarl, Arachne jumped to the side.

An expanding gust of air caught her at the edge of its blast, sending her off-balance.

Arachne flailed her limbs around her to disrupt any ghosts that might take the opportunity to invade as she regained her balance.

In the short moment her eyes had wandered to Des, Sawyer had pulled out a… spinal cord? He had it aimed straight at Arachne’s chest.

A glowing ball of electricity crackled on the end.

Normally, Arachne would ignore such a pathetic threat. The nuns’ lightning was far worse and she had been hit by that without much trouble.

Arachne dove out of the way, rolling on the floor before jumping to her feet. Her limbs whirled around her to keep the ghosts at bay.

The lightning thundered past a split second too late.

If her limbs started spasming, it could provide opportunities for the ghosts.

Arachne wasted no time in planning her next move. The wall of ghosts still surrounded Sawyer.

They weren’t around the little girl.

Moving, Arachne gripped her arm and yanked her back.

A light snap came from the girl’s shoulder as Arachne flung her through the wall of ghosts. Whatever had been holding the arm to the rest of her body had broken. Arachne found herself the proud owner of a freshly unstitched arm.

Not what she had intended. Still, it was the perfect thing to swing around without risking any possession.

Following in the wake of the girl, Arachne charged in. She batted away ghosts with the girl’s arm while bobbing and dodging the various air-based attacks Sawyer sent her way.

His smile slipped. It didn’t quite make it to a frown or even a neutral expression, but it definitely lost some of its wideness.

Arachne’s own grin appeared on her face, mirroring his former smile. If there was any contest in their grins, she was beyond certain that her best would beat his. Her teeth were just too perfect.

She clamped down on his ring hand. Her sharp claws shredded the meat and bone. With a tug, the whole hand tore apart.

The ghosts did not stop. Rather, they increased tenfold. They shook and jittered as they lurched towards her.

Taking the scrap of flesh from Sawyer with her in one hand and the girl’s arm in the other, Arachne used her mighty legs to catapult herself to the edge of the elevator landing.

Arachne lowered the makeshift club, assessing the situation. The limbs on her back kept in constant motion to protect from any unseen ghosts from behind.

There were too many. Just too many. Arachne found herself wishing that she had dragged some backup up the elevator shaft. They would have just gotten possessed, but tossing their possessed body at Sawyer might have disrupted the ghosts long enough for her to dive in and tear out the man’s throat.

For a moment, she actually entertained the idea of taking a step backwards and falling thirteen stories to the ground. She had seen the demon-golems and had no desire to become one–even if her actual consciousness was off in the Void.

But she couldn’t do that. Nel was the thing that would save Eva. If she backed off, Sawyer would collect Nel and undoubtedly escape before anyone could catch up to him.

No. She had to hold out long enough for the others to put the pressure on Sawyer. To force him to flee without reclaiming Nel.

Arachne gripped the detached arm in her hand. A thin strand of thread wove itself around the arm’s wrist. Her thread. Thin as it was, Arachne was beyond confident in its durability.

With a swing of her own arm, the arm flew through the air. The strand of her own webbing slid through a gap between her fingers. Her thread would be too thin to disrupt any ghosts it passed through.

The arm, however, was not. It punched through the face of one of the ghosts, scattering it into a puff of mist.

Swinging her arm around sent the arm at the end of the thread moving in a quick arc, scattering another set of ghosts.

Arachne charged forward. Her own arm dispersed a ghost on her way as she yanked the arm back to her.

She was forced into something of a dance as the ghosts circled around her. Her makeshift club swung around on its rope, darting this way and that. She interposed her own body between the thread, catching it on the tips of her limbs to alter the arm’s direction and to keep its momentum moving.

The flurry with which it moved kept the ghosts at bay. The few that did slip past were so infrequent that it was barely a concern to swipe at them with one of her legs.

A lightning bolt crackled past her. Not dodged out of any real intention, it simply missed because of her erratic motions.

All the while, she continued her slow yet inexorable march forwards.

Until Sawyer changed tactics.

A cold tingle spread out through the bottom of her feet.

Arachne jumped off the floor just in time to watch a pale form float up through the tiles. She landed heavily a few feet forward, cracking tiles.

Thanks to her sudden movement, the arm smacked her across the face.

Growling, she tossed the arm again, setting it in motion.

More started to rise through the floor while others descended from the ceiling.

This had to end, and soon. She could feel ever more chills at her back as her limbs lashed out to strike at them.

Lightning crackled across her chest. As expected, it was more like a tickle than any real pain. The distraction was enough to cause the chills to gain a stronger hold.

Arachne tossed the arm straight forward, running behind it. She dropped the thread attached to the arm and stretched–stretched her arms to their limits in order to reach Sawyer that much sooner. Her body went almost horizontal, kept up by her extra legs marching forward, in her attempts to glean a slight extension.

She stretched her fingers to their limit.

The tip of her pointed black finger snapped the necklace from Sawyer’s neck, cracking the gem in the center.

That did the trick. The eyes of the ghosts gained awareness for a split second before all of them turned to fog. Even the little girl was getting to her feet after vomiting out a pale mist.

Arachne knocked the spine-focus out of his other hand as she pulled herself back to her full height. Her maniacal grin widened to touch both sides of her head as she locked eyes with Sawyer.

“I win.”

And she stared. Her eight eyes bathed his face in a faint red glow. The pathetic meat sack would cower before her.

For a moment, Sawyer almost looked like he was going to frown.

The moment didn’t last. A defiant grin spread across his face.

Arachne spun just in time to receive a knife in her stomach. It sunk in right through where her leg had carved a hole earlier.

The little girl stepped backwards, leaving the knife where it was.

Unsheathing the knife from her belly, Arachne took a step forward to return it to its owner.

She faltered. A chill ran through her carapace.

“I’ve been experimenting on demons lately,” Sawyer said.

Arachne tried to reach out, but her arm just wouldn’t move. She tipped forward and hit the ground like a statue toppled over.

“I don’t expect that to hold you for long, but it will be a decent test anyway. Des, we are leaving.”

There was a bit of motion in her peripheral vision as the little girl bent down to pick up her arm.

“Unfortunately, we have been prevented once again from testing out our little toys to their full potential. But I must take care of my hand before I bleed out. Farewell for now, Arachne. I’ll be practicing my ghost control for next time.”

With that said, two sets of footsteps petered off towards the elevator.

All the while, Arachne was thrashing about within her own skin, trying to get herself moving.

As her carapace started to unfreeze, Arachne managed to tilt her head just enough to look back at where Sawyer had been.

If she had the capability to laugh, the deranged bout of laughter she would have erupted into would have landed her in Bedlam.

Now, all she had to do was find Nel alive. For her Eva and for her Eva’s revenge.

Clenched in her off-hand, Sawyer had left behind his fingers and his ring.

<– Back | Index | Next –>