by Cori Vidae
“Please, Celeste,” Erina said. “Just cooperate. Alesto says that if he does this, the Superiors will have no choice but to promote him. They’ll let us be together!”
Unseen by Erina, Alesto rolled his eyes. Celeste stared at her roommate. “Do you really believe him?”
Alesto entwined his fingers with Erina’s. “I’m doing this for us.” Celeste knew the cold smile he showed wasn’t meant for Erina.
The gentufen strolled forward, his heavy white robes trailing behind him on the lab’s stone floor. He stopped in front of Celeste and bent low so his face hovered over hers. His long dark hair spilled around his handsome face. His gaze flicked down at Celeste’s body, peering through the gaps in her robe.
“Perhaps,” he whispered, “I chose the wrong acolyte. I always thought you were too plain, but there’s something different about you now.”
Celeste spat in his face. Erina gasped.
“Touch me and die,” Celeste hissed.
Alesto wiped her spit away. “I will take the demon from you, and then I will take you.”
He grabbed her necklace.
A smile curled at the edge of Celeste’s mouth.
From the moment she’d woken, a realization dawned within her. In those first moments of waking to Erina’s scream, Celeste’s mind raced to make sense of what happened during the night. In order to save Santorava, she’d allowed him to bring forth her true nature.
She’d become a devana.
Now, as Alesto grabbed her necklace, she embraced that change. She could still feel the moonlight in the sky. Dawn had not arrived yet. Even without a window nearby, she knew there were still a few minutes before the sun rose. And until that happened, she still retained her power.
“You will never take him from me!” she snarled, and ignited her skin.
Blue flame erupted across her, beginning above her heart and searing outward. The thin sheen of flame painted her flesh, gently flowing along the currents of her body. She felt no pain, only immense power given to her by her lover.
The iron chains melted away. She seized Alesto’s hand in her fiery grip.
Alesto howled, falling to his knees. His arm caught fire, and soon his whole body became a towering inferno. Erina screamed and fled the lab. Celeste let her go.
The gentufen’s cry abruptly stopped as his life burned away. Throwing his charred corpse to the side, Celeste ran to the pit in the center of the lab. As she passed tables and bookshelves, flames leaped from her body to catch on whatever they could. Heat radiated from her, distorting the air. Within moments the room was ablaze. Bookshelves collapsed as their shelves smoked.
Celeste stumbled to a halt in the center of the pit. The runes she’d painted weeks ago for the summoning ritual flared to life. “Santorava!”
The air shimmered before her, waving with heat until it solidified into Santorava’s large body. “I am here, Celeste,” the demon lord said. “The dawn comes.”
Despite the chaos and fear swirling around her, an ache roiled in her heart and body. By all the graces of this world, he was beautiful. Celeste longed to reach for him, to wrap her arms around him and let him fill her again.
But as much as she hungered for that, she knew they had little time.
“The portal is open!” she said. “Return to Kraal. I will escape somehow and find you again. I’ve heard of rebel Servicers who live in the mountains. Perhaps I can find them and—”
“No,” Santorava said. “You are devana now. Without the moon, you will die.”
Celeste’s heart twisted. “Then take me with you to Kraal.”
Santorava’s golden eyes locked with hers. “For a thousand years I have searched for the lost soul of my limeni. If she were to return to Kraal, she would bring the moon, and new life to our realm.”
Celeste’s heart fluttered. “Wh-what are you saying?”
Santorava held out his hand. “I have missed you, Cheveyna. Only you could have shared your sacravella with me. It is possible for no other. Come with me. Return to where you have always belonged.”
Celeste accepted his hand, and in that moment, as their fingers touched directly for the first time, flesh to flesh, the sun rose outside of the Glandel. Night and day hovered in perfect balance for an infinitesimal moment. And in that brief flare of time—a heartbeat to others, but an eternal moment of glory to Celeste—memory flooded back to her. Her mind expanded, recalling her immortal life before she’d become trapped in this world. A life cut short by betrayal, but rectified now. Celeste, as she once knew herself, smiled and faded away, replaced by the aura of her true self, the Lady Cheveyna, queen of Kraal, and first of the devanas.
The sun lifted into the sky, and Santorava’s sacravella ignited. Her own fire waned away, but the demon lord took her into his arms.
With a soft flicker of light, they merged, and returned to Kraal, bringing with them the balance of sun and moon.
* * *
Mark Greenmill is a writer of various sorts. He lives in California.
Dromtsiirin at the Tiki Lounge
Nicole Blackwood
CHAPTER ONE
Benjiishnael turned off the last lava lamp in the dining room of Kiki’s Tiki Lounge. He missed the warm, fiery glow immediately. The harsh overhead lights—only ever used after hours—stole the charm from the shag carpeting and velvet paintings of hula girls.
Hawaiian lounge music abruptly gave way to 90s dance beats. Kiki shimmied out with the vacuum cleaner, hips gyrating as if she were a teenager instead of 43. Her flowery shirt and green capris matched the Lounge’s theme flawlessly. She wore her red hair up in an artful bun. An herbal cigarette hung from ruby lips.
“You get the bathrooms cleaned, Benji?” Kiki glanced at him over her shoulder. “I know you hate it, but if I do that and balance the books, we’ll be here all night. Sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave.”
Benjiishnael—Benji to the fireless boors he called co-workers—lifted his lip when Kiki turned away. He did hate cleaning the bathrooms. The smells were bad enough. But wiping away drips and smears—he ground his teeth. He’d never understand how humans could stand themselves. Steeling himself, he headed for the supply closet.
He stopped short, eyes drawn to the sidewalk in front of the diner. A man wove toward the glass doors drunkenly, pale hair straggling in a nighttime breeze. One hand was stuffed deep in his coat pocket. The other gripped a bright red gas can.
Keeping his back to Kiki, Benji lowered his inner eyelids. The world darkened immediately. Glittering orange lines of varying widths crisscrossed the ground like crazy patchwork. They glowed brighter wherever they met. A massive tangle converged beneath the Tiki Lounge, almost sun-bright.
He let his vision blur, searching for spells. The telltale bluish fog of enthrallment shrouded the approaching man. His eyes shone green, then orange, like a cat’s reflecting a beam of light in the dark. Yellow spell marks flashed around his head.
Benji retracted his inner lids. “Kiki, we’ve got trouble. Get out of sight and call 9-1-1.”
“But—”
“Now.”
He didn’t wait to see if she’d obey. He grabbed a baseball bat from behind the bar and darted out the front doors. The enthralled man was halfway up the walk. He looked right through Benji. He didn’t slow, but bared his teeth. The lack of emotion in his glassy eyes as he did it sent a shiver down Benji’s spine.
Benji didn’t bother speaking to the man; when they got this close to their mark, thralls stopped hearing or seeing anything else. Instead, he gave a mental command, accompanied by a wave of heat. :Leave.:
He wasn’t as good at psychically controlling humans as his master, Azrulbey, but simple commands were easy enough. The thrall shivered violently and staggered forward, eyes slitted. His grizzled face shone with sweat. Benji growled, and gave another mental push. :LEAVE.:
The thrall’s movements slowed, but the spell forced him through the command. Blood rushed from one nostril. Benji swung the bat. Bone
broke with a sickening crack. The thrall’s arm flopped uselessly, but he didn’t stop. Benji swung at the other shoulder.
The thrall lurched out of the way with a speed that belied his seeming drunkenness. That was the spell’s work. Cursing, Benji tackled him. They tumbled into the bushes. The thrall howled, fighting without skill but with inhuman strength.
Benji tried to pry the gas can away, but couldn’t wrench the man’s fingers loose. He snarled when teeth sank into his shoulder. If only Kiki weren’t there to see, he’d just kill the thrall and be done with it. But her presence meant he had to play by human rules, and that meant fighting like one… and taking damage like one. His vision wavered momentarily when his head slammed into the ground.
The thrall slithered out of Benji’s loosened grip. He set the gas can down and unscrewed the cap. Benji shook himself and lunged forward. The container overturned, splashing gasoline onto the pavement. The thrall struggled with a neon-green lighter. Benji clamped his fist around it. The thrall’s bones broke in his grip.
Sirens split the night; Kiki had made the call. Benji’s heart raced. If the cops showed up while the man was still enthralled, things would get much worse. He risked a glance at the front of the diner. He didn’t see Kiki peeking out. Good; she wouldn’t see this, then.
He flexed his hands, and the skin peeled away. In its place, small red and gold scales steamed in the brisk night air. Golden claws tipped his fingers. He grabbed the thrall’s clammy forehead. At the touch, the enemy spell bit along his hand like electricity. He shoved psychic fire into the enthralled brain too fast for the unknown spell weaver to notice from afar and stop him.
The fire ate away at the knots of compulsion tying the spell to the thrall. One by one they exploded behind Benji’s inner eyelids, threatening to blind him. The first wave of spell-shrapnel carved through his scales so that he bled beneath his human skin. The second wave pummeled his body like sledgehammers.
Growling, Benji held on until the spell fizzled. The thrall screamed, then went limp. A whimper broke from him. His eyes lost their glassiness, and he stared at Benji in horror.
Benji re-skinned his hands quickly and slammed a fist into the man’s face, knocking him unconscious. Tucking the dropped lighter into his back pocket, he staggered upright just as the first sheriff’s car sped into the parking lot.
Twenty minutes later, an ambulance carried away the unconscious would-be fire-starter, followed by the black-and-whites. Benji shut the front door against the renewed wail of the sirens. His head throbbed despite the pain killer the paramedic had given him.
Across the dining room, Kiki gave him a pointed look. “Not that I’m not impressed, but you shouldn’t have fought that guy, Benji. You should have just waited for the cops to deal with him.”
“And let him burn the place down with us inside?”
“You could have been seriously hurt. Or worse. What if he’d had a knife, or a gun?”
Benji shrugged. “He’s homeless. Where would he get a gun?” Before she could reply, he moved past her. “Come on. Let’s lock up and go home.”
“The place isn’t clean yet, and I have to balance the books—”
“You can do that in the morning before opening.” Benji noticed her hand tremble as she swiped a stray lock of hair away from her face. “I’ll come in early with you.”
“What about the gasoline? One stray spark—”
“Fine. Ten minutes, then we’re out of here.”
Keeping an eyelid down for new threats, he worked quickly. He found Kiki leaning against the wall beside the back door when he finished, arms crossed and eyes distant.
“Why would anyone want to burn this place?” Her voice was small and soft.
“He was crazy. It wasn’t personal.”
“Yeah, probably not.” She sighed. “I wish the damned junkies would stay in Vegas.”
He hesitated before responding. “I’ll check out your apartment for you before you go in, if you’d like. Make sure it’s safe.”
She snorted. “What, you think I need a hero, now? That’s sweet, but I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.” Her tired smile broadened mischievously. “You know, if you wanted to come in, all you had to do was ask.”
“What? N-no, that’s not what I—”
Kiki laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I’m kidding, Benji.”
“Oh.”
She clapped his arm and started toward their cars. “Come on, tough guy. Let’s call it a night.”
He followed her with hunched shoulders, grateful for the low light. His cheeks burned almost as hot as the breaking spell had. He frowned at the sensation; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed. What the hell?
Kiki hesitated beside her car. All trace of teasing vanished. “Thank you, Benji. I appreciate you protecting the Lounge.”
“No problem. Sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. “See you in the morning, then? I’m gonna head in around five.”
“You got it. Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Benji texted Beirak before following Kiki out of the parking lot. Thrall outside the Lounge. Took care of it. Have something for you to track the source.
Be at your place in twenty, Beirak promptly texted back. Benji would give him that much; the bastard always followed up quickly, and was damned good at finding things out. It had earned him the role as broker for the upcoming deal that would take place at the Lounge. If the parties involved needed encouragement, he’d know just how to do it.
Benji sighed. Twenty minutes wasn’t enough time for him feed first. The fight, and breaking the enemy spell, had drained him. Each bruise ached as if he truly were human. He rolled his shoulders and winced. His head pounded. It was going to be a long damned night.
CHAPTER TWO
Benji played sentry for Kiki’s apartment complex every night. He’d chosen the duplex across the street specifically because it allowed him to see her front door and the entry gate to the parking lot; he could take care of any threats before she even knew they were around.
He stood at the window in his kitchen with the lights off. From here, he could see into her living room when the curtains were open. Tonight, they were. She’d changed into pink sweat pants and a loose white t-shirt. He watched her practice Tai Chi, fascinated by the flowing, careful steps. Her brow furrowed with concentration. She frowned whenever she misstepped or her balance faltered.
A knock sounded at the front door. Benji shook himself. He’d lost time watching Kiki. That was clumsy. Dangerous.
Beirak didn’t wait for Benji to open the door completely before shoving past him, and there was a lot of body to shove with. In his human disguise, he had to be at least 300 pounds. His bleached blond hair was carefully styled into a pompadour; that and his wrinkled business suit indicated he’d been in meetings all day.
“What’ve you got?”
Benji handed him the lighter. “The spell was attached to this. If there’s enough of it left, it should lead us to whoever sent the thrall.”
Beirak’s second eyelids slid down, making him appear momentarily blind. He squinted and turned the garish little fire-starter carefully, studying every seam. Finally, he shook his head. “Not much left of the spell. What in the abyss did you do to it?”
Benji curled his lip. “Blazed it. Can you track it, or not?”
Beirak glared at him. “Of course I can, boy. Just won’t be nice and quick, no thanks to you.”
“It wasn’t easy breaking the thrall away. The spell was damned strong.” Benji chewed his lip. “I almost couldn’t do it.”
“So, you’re weaker than you used to be. Azrulbey accepted that risk when he decided to give you another chance. He can send in someone else if you can’t handle things at the diner.”
Benji bristled. “I’m not weak, old wyrm. You think my time here has been easy?” He reeled himself in when Beirak’s blue eyes glittered with malevolent satisfaction. “This spell was
stronger than most. Almost like—”
“Don’t borrow trouble, boy.”
“Az should know. If it’s an Ancient One, we need backup.”
Beirak cursed. “We don’t know that’s what this is.”
“You can’t set up a damned international feeding ground without someone noticing. You really think no one’s gonna try to horn in on that action? You’ve gotta tell Az. It might not be an Ancient One, but if it is and we didn’t say anything, we’ll both be fed to the void. Those bastards don’t let up once they’ve decided to protect a place.”
Beirak nodded grudgingly and headed for the door. “I’ll tell him. Want me send over a prostitute or something? You look like hell.”
“I’m fine.”
“We need you strong, ‘Jiishnael. If another thrall shows up, or worse, and you can’t fight—”
“I’ll be all right. Go.”
Beirak curled his lip, but left without another word. In the silence that followed, Benji leaned his forehead against the window. Exhaustion dragged at him. He needed to feed; Beirak was right.
He watched Kiki until she went to bed. Then he slipped outside and made for the pub at the end of the street. It wasn’t a bad place; most of the regulars were well-to-do and quiet. But a few carefully crafted comments about finances and politics, and he knew they’d get riled up easily enough. He shook his head over Beirak’s offer. Who needed junkies and brawls when niggling stress did the trick just as well, and drew less attention? He’d get the nourishment he needed, and no one would be the wiser.
His head was pounding again by the time he reached the place. He took his usual seat at the bar and ordered a beer he wouldn’t finish. He inserted himself into a conversation about the latest political fiasco, seeding psychic worries into the minds around him. The spirits of the other patrons steadily churned to a soft roil of anxiety. It was potent, sweet.
Benji drew in deep breaths, pulling the life-giving energy into himself. Whenever the topic started to wander, and their quiet fear waned, he expertly guided it back. An hour later, he was healed and felt more sated than he had in months. Everyone else looked haggard. They’d be fine the next day. Their energy would be replenished by the time he needed it again.