Necessary Evil

by Donald Hanley

  I felt my tension ratchet up as I made my way across town to Milton Street. Not only was I getting closer to my final confrontation with Lilixandriel, but Dad was still out there somewhere. The rest of the department wouldn’t have any reason to pull me over as long as I obeyed the speed limits but Dad expected me to be at home with Mom and Susie. If he spotted me, it was all over.

  The lights were out in the library as I approached but it looked otherwise normal. Of course, all of the damage Bellaxragor inflicted on it was in the back and I wondered if I was supposed to drive into the alley. The entire parking lot was barricaded off, though, making that impossible.

  I pulled over to the curb and my two travelling companions hopped up onto the dash, peering around. Three more cats showed themselves on the steps leading up to the front doors and a couple of suspicious-looking shadows lingered across the street. My phone rang again and Lilixandriel spoke before I could say anything.

  “Thou hast done well, Peter Simon Collins,” she told me. “My minions report none have followed thee and no magical bond marks thee.”

  “I told you that,” I said tersely.

  “I have not survived this long upon thy world by being incautious,” she chided me, “but I am now satisfied. Let us meet, thee and I, and consummate our accord.”

  “Where?”

  “Upon the bridge that spans the river to the north.”

  “On the highway? Isn’t that a bit ... public?”

  “Fret not, Peter Simon Collins,” she chuckled, “we shall remain undisturbed. I shall see thee there anon, but make haste,” she warned. “The hours unfold swiftly and even I cannot slow their progress.” The call dropped, leaving me wondering what she was talking about. It sounded ominous.

  I rolled down the passenger window and tried to shoo the imps out but they refused to be evicted. I finally put the window back up and headed north. This is it, I told myself grimly. Just a few more minutes and it’ll all be over.

  Highway 174 was hardly a major thoroughfare but it did carry its share of traffic between the Metroplex and the smaller communities in central Texas. Even this late at night, a semi or a gas truck would barrel through every few minutes, but the road was eerily empty as I headed towards the river. Even the side streets looked deserted.

  I slowed as I approached the bridge, wondering exactly where I was supposed to meet Lilixandriel. Kimball Bend Park, just on this side of the river, made the most sense. The area was almost pitch black and there weren’t likely to be any couples making out there on a Wednesday night. I was about to call Lilixandriel and ask her when my headlights picked up something bright in the middle of the road ahead.

  For a startled moment, I thought it was a ghost floating in mid-air, but it resolved into a woman wearing a white blouse and black skirt, just standing there in the center of the bridge. I came to a stop about a hundred feet away, staring at her as I tried to swallow the huge lump in my throat.

  Lilixandriel looked almost exactly like she did when I first met her just a few days ago, like a corporate executive magically transported from a demonic board meeting somewhere. Her spiky silver hair and curving horns glittered in the headlights as she smiled at me, revealing her fangs, and she toyed with the collar of her blouse as she waited for me. The buttons were undone all the way down to her navel.

  I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself and then turned the car off, leaving my headlights on so I could still see what was going on. I opened my door and the imps immediately leapt for the opening and scurried away, but they didn’t join Lilixandriel. Instead, they disappeared in the opposite direction, which didn’t do a thing for my composure. I was sorely tempted to do the same thing.

  It was too late now, though, so I got out and walked towards her, coming to a halt about twenty feet away. We eyed each other, me anxiously and her with a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

  “Well met, Peter Simon Collins,” she greeted me. “Dost thou have thy soulstone upon thee?” I didn’t trust my voice so I pulled it out from under my shirt and let it lie against my chest at the end of its chain. The ruby gleamed brightly in the darkness. “Excellent,” she nodded, holding out her hand. “Surrender it to me.”

  I gripped the Stone tightly, feeling it pulse in time with my heartbeat, but I didn’t remove it. “You promised to leave everyone else alone,” I reminded her.

  “Certes,” she agreed easily. “Once the soulstone is bound to me, I will depart this wretched place and ne’er return.” That would only happen after I was dead, of course.

  My headlights petered out a short distance behind her and I couldn’t see if there was anyone else on the bridge. The unbroken darkness reminded me uneasily of the Blind Worm’s deadly void. “Where’s your champion, Lilith?” I asked.

  “I do not require the services of a lord of Hell to dispatch thee,” she sneered, her hand still outstretched.

  Oh, really? Then why haven’t you done it already? I surreptitiously cast Clarity on myself, just in case she tried to succubus me. I had to stay in control for this to work.

  “All right, I’ve done my part,” I called out loud, but I wasn’t talking to Lilixandriel. “Take it from here, Amy.”

  23

  They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. I can’t verify that from personal experience – my recent brushes with death didn’t last long enough to let me take a trip down memory lane – but it seems unlikely. If I’m about to draw my last breath, I have to believe that my thoughts would be on what happens next, not reminiscing about my seventh birthday.

  For most Christians, the afterlife boils down to two basic options: Heaven or Hell. There’s some debate whether limbo and purgatory are actual things but nowadays most scholars consider them to be clumsy attempts to cover up the inconsistencies in the rules. Regardless, if you’re good enough, you get to pass through the Pearly Gates and hang out with the angels. If not, you get the express elevator to a brimstone bath and eternal torment. The idea behind all this, of course, is to encourage you to be good.

  Unfortunately, the promise of a reward or the threat of punishment only works if there’s some immediate and obvious causality with your actions. Telling me that I’ll be jabbed with pitchforks in fifty or sixty years because I told a lie or stole a comic book from the store today really isn’t enough of an incentive for me to reconsider my actions. If God really wants us to obey His rules, He needs to give us His feedback a lot faster.

  The only sound I heard was, literally, crickets, scraping their wings at each other somewhere in the distance. I looked around surreptitiously, just in case Amy was behind me, but she was conspicuous by her absence. Lilixandriel lowered her hand with a frown, further proof that the Spawn of Darkness hadn’t made an appearance.

  “What is this foolery?” Lilixandriel asked coldly. “Who is Amy?”

  I cleared my throat nervously. “Amy? Any time now.” The one weak spot in my plan was the fact that I had no way to contact Amy beforehand and let her know what I intended to do. She had to know what was going on, though. This was the perfect opportunity for her to take out Lilixandriel once and for all and gain her father’s gratitude. There wasn’t even a demon lord here to bother with.

  Except Amy wanted you to defeat one or two more demons first, my treacherous mind reminded me, and she told you to make sure Melissa was there to help out.

  “Shit,” I muttered, feeling a prickle of sweat on my forehead. If Amy didn’t think the timing was right to step in and save the day, I was screwed.

  A phone started ringing and I realized it was mine, sitting in the console in my car. I wanted to run back and answer it, hoping it was Amy or Mrs. Kendricks or just about anyone else, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of Lilixandriel. She was looking really pissed now. The ringing stopped and Lilixandriel’s glowing eyes narrowed.

  “Thou hast played me false, Peter Simon Collins,” she said dangerously. “Thou hadst no intention of submitting to me.”

&
nbsp; Wait a minute. A flicker of hope blossomed in my chest. It’s just her and me here. She doesn’t have any magical protection. I can take her out myself. I kept my expression neutral as I carefully targeted her with my right hand and flipped to my damage spells with my left.

  “Thy soulstone and thy life are forfeit,” she went on. heedless of her imminent doom, “and any who side with thee against me shall suffer the same fate.”

  My finger hovered over Lightning Strike but I paused as a niggling doubt wrapped itself around my thoughts. She already had a demon lord ready to go before I called her. She’s not dumb enough to send it away before she has the Stone in her hands, so where is it?

  That question was answered a moment later when Lilixandriel turned slightly and spoke over her shoulder. “Nyx, I have need of thee.”

  What I should have done was immediately teleport out of there. What I actually did was stare into the gloom, trying to discern where the new demon lord was coming from. The darkness behind Lilixandriel was so deep it seemed almost tangible and then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I realized it was tangible, a solid wall of roiling shadows that stretched across the bridge, over the river, and up into the sky.

  My headlights couldn’t penetrate the darkness but it started flickering in places, like lightning in a storm cloud, and the surface bulged towards us as if something was pushing through it. A moment later, Lilixandriel’s new champion stepped out onto the bridge and stopped.

  Nyx was a succubus, but one as different from Daraxandriel and her sister as day was from night. She was taller than Lilixandriel, even in her bare feet, and her horns were smooth and recurved. Her flawless skin was pale alabaster, her eyes were the icy blue of a glacier, and her hair spilled down her back like diamond threads. If she had a tail I couldn’t see it beneath the long wrap-around skirt she wore low on her hips, but her torso was bare, exposing her full breasts. She was absolutely, unquestionably, and indisputably the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, a Rembrandt portrait compared to a toddler’s crayon scribble.

  I had just enough presence of mind remaining to cast Clarity on myself again, trying to cancel out the effect she was having on me, but nothing changed. Either my spell wasn’t strong enough to overcome her influence or she actually was that perfect. I licked my suddenly dry lips.

  Nyx’s gaze passed right through me as she looked around, as if I didn’t impinge on her awareness at all. “What wouldst thou have of me, Lilixandriel?” She spoke with the voice of an angelic choir, soft and smooth and resonant.

  “Peter Simon Collins holds the soulstone we seek.” Lilixandriel pointed right at me and this time Nyx focused on me. There was no emotion at all in her features. I was of no consequence to her whatsoever, less interesting than some crawling insect. “Seize it and kill him.”

  Nyx’s eyes dropped to the Philosopher’s Stone and I clutched it reflexively, feeling its warmth against my sweaty palm. “That is our Dread Lord’s stone, taken from his trove,” she said, as if she was commenting on the weather. “How didst he come to possess it?”

  “Daraxandriel stole it,” Lilixandriel said dismissively.

  “Daraxandriel.” Nyx frowned ever so slightly, the first expression I’d seen cross her face, as if she was trying to recall where she’d heard that name before.

  “It matters not,” Lilixandriel insisted impatiently. “Slay him and reclaim the stone from his corpse.”

  She’s just a succubus, I told myself, she can’t hurt me. I didn’t believe that for an instant, though, and I hastily cast Arcane Shield and Iron Hide on myself. Nyx didn’t notice, or maybe didn’t care, as she reached out her hand in a graceful motion and grasped a long staff that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  It looked like a piece of scrap iron from a wrecking yard, as if someone had taken an rusted length of square metal tubing, cut it into random pieces, scrambled them up, and then welded them back together with their eyes closed. There wasn’t a single place along its entire length that didn’t look painful to hold, although Nyx seemed to manage it just fine.

  The top was bent around into a crude angular loop that held a fist-sized lump of black stone. It looked like a broken shard of coal but it began to glow with a greenish-blue inner light when Nyx lifted the staff a few inches off the ground. Something about the movement implied that the thing was incredibly heavy.

  A fiery white pentagram flashed on the ground right beside me and Susie stepped through the portal opening in her oversized pink-and-white robe. She gave me a cursory once-over and then glanced around, eyeing Nyx and Lilixandriel.

  “I found him,” she said into her cellphone. “Yeah, he’s on the bridge.”

  “What you are doing here?” I hissed at her in dismay. “Get out of here!”

  She ignored me. “Lilith is here with another succubus.” She listened for a moment. “I don’t know. Let me check.” She gestured with her free hand and the jewels on her rings flared in unison. A pentagram appeared under Nyx’s feet and sputtered out immediately. Another one tried to form around her neck but faded out as well. “Yeah, she’s pretty tough. Okay.” She pressed her phone against her almost-non-existent chest. “Mrs. Kendricks says we should get out of here.”

  “You think?” I couldn’t keep a rising note of panic out of my voice.

  Nyx hadn’t moved at all during all of this, although Lilixandriel looked taken aback. She recovered quickly, though, and jabbed her finger at us. “Stop them,” she snapped, “ere others follow!”

  All Nyx did was set the staff down, a drop of maybe two inches, but the impact rocked the bridge with a hollow boom that echoed all around us. Susie, Lilixandriel, and I all stumbled about as the pavement rippled under our feet. Susie’s portal was snuffed out like a candle and the silvery aura of my Arcane Shield vanished. The Mustang’s panic alarm went off, whooping in the darkness as the lights flashed on and off.

  Susie recovered first and held her phone to her ear. “You might want to – Hello?” She looked at the display and then shoved her phone into her robe pocket with an annoyed scowl.

  “Let’s go!” I grabbed Susie’s arm and tapped Teleportal, envisioning our kitchen, but it stubbornly refused to appear around us. The spell icon was grayed out, as were most of my other spells. “Oh, shit, she’s blocking my powers!”

  Susie didn’t seem to be having the same problems, though. Her portal reappeared behind us and Daraxandriel immediately jumped through, brandishing her sword. A moment later, Olivia joined us, looking around fearfully before she hid behind me. Unlike Susie, both of them were fully dressed.

  “Peter Simon Collins!” Daraxandriel exclaimed. “Art thou well? We did fear –” Her words cut off when she caught sight of the two demons facing us and her mouth fell open. “Lady Nyx?” she gasped in a strangled voice. She looked like she was about to prostrate herself on the ground.

  “Daraxandriel.” Nyx perfect features remained neutral but an edge of contempt crept into her voice. “I recall thee now.”

  “What do you mean, Lady Nyx?” I asked Daraxandriel. “Who is she?”

  “She’s a 9, isn’t she?” Susie asked, holding her hand over her head.

  “She is the Dread Lord’s handmaiden,” Daraxandriel whispered. “She stands at His side by the Burning Throne and bears the Crooked Staff until He has need of it.”

  “That’s bad, right?” I asked uneasily. The staff didn’t look like much but it was obviously a very powerful weapon.

  “It is dire, Peter Simon Collins,” she said grimly. “We are surely doomed.” The tip of her sword wavered in her white-knuckled grip.

  “Everyone out of here!” I ordered.

  I tried to push Susie and Olivia through the portal but Nyx raised and lowered the Crooked Staff again. The shockwave was stronger this time, sending us to our hands and knees, and the portal evaporated like fog in sunlight. The Mustang’s alarm sputtered and died as its lights dimmed.

  “We’re going to need some help with this one,” Su
sie groused, getting to her feet.

  All of her rings flashed and suddenly Mrs. Kendricks was there. She wore her long nightgown and her hair was down, as if she’d just gotten out of bed. She had a cellphone in her hand but she immediately dropped it and raised her hands. Her multicolored pentagram appeared under our feet and we jumped into the smaller circles as a silvery dome snapped into place above us.

  “Susie, what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly. “You were supposed to leave with Peter!”

  “They’ll just follow us,” Susie shrugged. “Incoming.”

  I shot an anxious look at Nyx but she seemed to be content to just stand there watching us. Instead, more portals started flashing around us, each one depositing a young woman on the ground before vanishing. The first one was Stacy, wearing a t-shirt and panties and trying to pull on a pair of athletic pants. She took one look around and immediately kicked them aside as she formed her own copy of her mother’s pentagram. “What’s going on?” she demanded angrily.

  The other newcomers were similarly clad in pajamas and nightgowns, as if Susie had snatched them all from their beds. I recognized Tara Kingsley, also holding a phone, and a few of the other faces were familiar, so I guessed these were all of the members of the coven, except for Melissa.

  The witches gaped at their new surroundings in astonishment but they jumped at Mrs. Kendricks’ urgent orders and formed two groups of five within their own protective pentagrams. Stacy remained alone in hers, squinting at Nyx without her glasses. Nobody had a wand and I wondered how much of a problem that was going to be.

  “Where’s Agent Prescott?” I asked Susie. We were going to need everyone we could find if we were going to have any hope of beating Nyx.