by Butcher, Jim
I opened my eyes and looked slowly around me. The hot tub was set in the floor of what looked like a natural cave. Low, reddish light came from what looked like some kind of moss growing on the stalactites overhead.
That was odd, because I’d never been in a cave like this, either.
“Hello?” I called. My voice bounced around the empty cavern.
I heard the sound of movement, and a woman stepped into sight from behind a rock formation. She was a little taller than average and had hair that fell in a sheet of golden silk to her shoulders. She was dressed in a silken tunic belted with soft rope, both pure white. The outfit neither displayed any impropriety nor allowed anyone looking to ignore the beauty of the body it clothed. Her eyes were of a deep, deep blue, like a sunny October sky, and her skin glowed with wholesome appeal. She was, quite simply, a stunning creature.
“Hello. I thought it was time we had a talk,” she said. “You’ve had a hard day. I thought pleasant surroundings might suit you.”
I eyed her for a moment. I was naked, which was good. The surface of the pool had enough in the way of bubbles and froth to be opaque, which was also good. It saved me the embarrassment of my response to her. “Who are you?”
She lifted golden brows in a faint smile, and seated herself beside the hot tub, on the floor of the cave, her legs together and to one side, her hands folded on her lap. “Have you not reasoned it yourself by now?”
I stared at her for a long minute and then said, quietly, “Lasciel.”
The woman bowed her head, smiling in acknowledgment. “Indeed.”
“You can’t be here,” I said. “I sealed you into the floor under my lab. I imprisoned you.”
“Indeed you did,” the woman said. “What you see here is not my true self, as such. Think of me as a reflection of the true Lasciel who resides within your mind.”
“As a what?”
“When you chose to touch the coin, you accepted this form of my awareness within you,” Lasciel said. “I am an imprint. A copy.”
I swallowed. “You live in my head. And you can talk to me?”
“I can now,” Lasciel said. “Now that you have chosen to employ what I have offered you.”
I took in a deep breath. “Hellfire. I used Hellfire today to empower my magic.”
“You made the conscious choice to do so,” she said. “And as a result, I can now appear to your conscious mind.” She smiled. “Actually, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. You are a great deal more interesting than most I have been given to.”
“You, uh,” I said, “you don’t look much like a demon.”
“Keep in mind, please, that I was not always a resident of Hell. I relocated there.” She looked at herself. “Shall I add the wings? A harp? A golden halo?”
“Why are you asking me?” I asked.
“Because I am something of a guest,” she said. “It costs me nothing to take on an appearance that pleases my host.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “If you’re my guest, then get out.”
She laughed, and there was nothing alluring or musical about it. It was just laughter, warm and genuine. “That isn’t possible, I’m afraid. By taking the coin, you invited me in. You cannot simply will me away.”
“Fine,” I said. “This is a dream. I’ll wake up. See ya.”
I made the simple effort of will required to wake myself from a dream.
And nothing happened.
“Maybe it’s the painkillers,” Lasciel suggested. “And you were, after all, very tired. It looks like we’ll be spending a little time together.”
I glared for a while. I don’t usually take the time to glower at things in dreams, either. “What do you want?” I said.
“To make you an offer,” she said.
“The answer is no,” I said. “We now return me to my regularly scheduled dream.”
She pursed her lips, then smiled again. “I think you want to hear me out,” she said. “This is your dream, after all. If you truly wished me to begone, don’t you think you could make it so?”
“Maybe it’s the hot tub,” I suggested.
“I saw that you’d never experienced one,” Lasciel said. She dipped a toe into the pool and smiled. “I have, often. Do you like it?”
“It’s okay,” I said, and tried to look like I didn’t think it was just about the nicest thing ever for an aching and tired body. “You know what I know, eh?”
“I exist within your mind,” she said. “I see what you see. Feel what you feel. I learn what you learn—and quite a bit more besides.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I said.
“That I can do you a great deal of good,” she said. “I have the knowledge and memory of two thousand years of life upon this world, and infinite thousands outside it. I know many things that could be of use to you. I can advise you. Teach you secrets of your craft never known to mortalkind. Show you sights no human has ever seen. Share with you memory and image beyond anything you could imagine.”
“By any chance does all of this knowledge and power and good advice come for only three easy installments of nineteen ninety-five plus shipping and handling?”
The fallen angel arched a golden brow at me.
“Or maybe it comes with a bonus set of knives tough enough to saw through a nail, yet still cut tomatoes like this.”
She regarded me steadily and said, “You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are.”
“I had to come up with some kind of response to your offer to corrupt and enslave me. Bad jokes seemed perfectly appropriate, because I can only assume that you’ve got to be kidding.”
Lasciel pursed her lips, a thoughtful expression. It made me start thinking about how soft her mouth looked, for example. “Is that what you think I want? A slave?”
“I got a look at how you guys work,” I said.
“You’re referring to Ursiel’s previous host, yes?”
“Yes. He was insane. Broken. I’m not eager to give it a whirl for myself.”
Lasciel rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Ursiel is a mindless thug. He doesn’t care what happens to the holder of his coin, provided he gets to taste blood as often as possible. I don’t operate that way.”
“Sure you don’t.”
She shrugged. “Your derision will not unmake the truth. Some of my kindred prefer domination in their relationships with mortals. The wiser among us, though, find a mutual partnership to be much more practical, and beneficial for both parties. You saw something of how Nicodemus functions with Anduriel, did you not?”
“No offense, but I would shove a sharpened length of rebar into one ear and out the other if I thought I was going to turn into anything like Nicodemus.”
Her expression registered surprise. “Why?”
“Because he’s a monster,” I said.
Lasciel shook her head. “Perhaps from your perspective. But you know very little of him and his goals.”
“I know he did his damnedest, literally, to kill me and two of my friends, and God knows how many innocent people with that plague. And he did kill another friend.”
“What is your point?” Lasciel asked. She seemed genuinely confused.
“The point is that he crossed the line, and I’m never going to play on his team. He doesn’t get understanding or sympathy anymore. Not from me. He’s got payback coming.”
“You wish to destroy him?”
“In a perfect world he would vanish off the face of the earth and I would never hear of him again,” I said. “But I’ll take whatever I can get.”
She absorbed that for a few moments, and then nodded slowly. “Very well,” she said. “I will depart. But let me leave you with a thought?”
“As long as you leave.”
She smiled, rising. “I understand your refusal to allow another to control your life. It’s a poisonous, repugnant notion to think of someone who would dictate your every move, impose upon you a code of behavior you could not accept, and refuse
to allow you choice, expression, and the pursuit of your own heart’s purpose.”
“Pretty much,” I said.
The fallen angel smiled. “Then believe me when I say that I know precisely how you feel. All of the Fallen do.”
A little cold spot formed in the pit of my stomach, despite the hot tub. I shifted uncomfortably in the water.
“We have that in common, wizard,” Lasciel said. “You’ve no reason to believe me, but consider for a moment the possibility that I am sincere in my offer. I could do a great deal to help you—and you could continue to live your life on your own terms, and in accordance with your own values. I could help you be ten times the force for good that you already are.”
“With that power, I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly,” I said.
“Gandalf to Frodo,” the demon said, smiling. “But I am not sure the metaphor is applicable. You needn’t actually take up the coin, if it did not suit you to do so. The aid I can offer you in this shadow form is far more limited than if you took up the coin, but it is not inconsiderable.”
“Ring, coin, whatever. The physical object is only a symbol in any case—a symbol for power.”
“I merely offer you the benefit of my knowledge and experience,” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “Power. I’ve already got more than I’m comfortable with.”
“Which is the foremost reason that you, of all people, are capable of wielding it responsibly.”
“Maybe I am,” I said. “Maybe not. I know how it works, Lasciel. The first taste is free. The price goes up down the line.”
She watched me with luminous blue eyes.
“See, if I start leaning on you now, how long is it going to be before I decide that I need more of your help? How long before I start digging up the concrete in my lab because I think I need your coin in order to survive?”
“And?” she asked quietly. “If you do need it to survive?”
I sat in the swirling hot waters and sighed. Then I closed my eyes, made an effort of will, and reshaped the dream we stood within, so that the hot tub was gone and I stood dressed and facing her on a solid cavern floor. “If it comes to that, I hope I die with a little bit of style. Because I’m not going to sign on with Downbelow. Not even in hell’s Foreign Legion.”
“Fascinating,” Lasciel said. She smiled at me.
My God, it was beautiful. It wasn’t merely physical loveliness or the appearance of warmth. It was the whole sense of her, the vibrant, glowing life of the being before me, a life with energy enough to ignite a star. Seeing her smile was like watching the sun rise on the very first morning, like feeling the caress of the first breeze of the first spring. It made me want to laugh and run and spin around in it, like the sunny days of a childhood I could only dimly remember.
But I held myself back. Beauty can be dangerous, and fire, though lovely, can burn and kill when not treated with respect. I faced the fallen angel cautiously, my posture unthreatening but unbowed. I faced her beauty and felt the radiant warmth of her presence and held myself from reaching out for it.
“I’m not fascinating,” I said. “I am what I am. It isn’t perfect, but it’s mine. I’m not making deals with you.”
Lasciel nodded, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve been burned in bargains past, and you have no desire to repeat the experience. You are wary of dealing with me and those like me—and for good reason. I don’t think I would have had any lasting respect for you, had you accepted my offer at face value—even though it is genuine.”
“Gee. I would have felt crushed by your lack of respect.”
She laughed with a lot of belly in it, genuinely pleased. “I admire your will. Your defiance. As something of a defiant being myself, I think we might forge a strong partnership, given time to develop it.”
“That won’t happen,” I said. “I want you to leave.”
“Get thee behind me?” she asked.
“Something like that.”
She bowed her head. “As you wish, my host. I request that you merely consider my offer. Should you wish to converse with me again, you have only to call my name.”
“I won’t,” I said.
“As it pleases you,” she said.
Then she was gone, and the dream cavern was darker and lonelier for her absence. I relaxed and went back to my sleep and my solitary dreams.
I was too tired to remember if any of them had a hot tub.
Chapter
Twenty-six
I slept hard and didn’t wake up until well after sunrise. I heard voices, and after a minute I identified the sharp, crackling edges of tone that told me they were coming out of a radio. I got up and gave myself a washcloth bath at the bathroom sink. It wasn’t as nice as a hot tub, and not even as nice as a shower, but I didn’t feel like sticking my aching leg into a trash bag and taping it shut so that I could get one without getting my bandages wet.
I couldn’t find my clothes anywhere, so I wandered out into the house in my bare feet and mangled pants. The hospital staff had cut the pant leg mostly off of my wounded leg, and the edges were rough and uneven. I passed a mirror in the hallway of the house and stopped to examine myself.
I looked like a joke. A bad joke.
“…mysterious power outage continues,” the radio announcer was saying. “In fact, it’s difficult to estimate how long we’ll be able to stay on the air, or even how many people are actually receiving this broadcast. Gasoline-powered generators have been encountering odd trouble throughout the city, batteries seem unreliable, and other gasoline-powered engines, including those of vehicles, are behaving unpredictably. The telephone lines have been having all kinds of problems, and cell phones seem to be all but useless. O’Hare is completely shut down, and as you can imagine, it’s playing havoc with airline traffic throughout the nation.”
Thomas was standing in the kitchen, at the gas stove. He was making pancakes and listening to an old battery-powered radio sitting on Murphy’s counter. He nodded to me, put a finger against his lips, and flicked a glance at the radio. I nodded, folded my arms, and leaned against the doorway to listen to the announcer continue.
“National authorities have declined to comment on the matter, though the mayor’s office has given a statement blaming the problems on unusual sunspot activity.”
Thomas snorted.
The radio prattled on. “That answer doesn’t seem to hold much water, given that in cities as near as the south side of Joliet all systems are behaving normally. Other sources have suggested everything from an elaborate Halloween hoax to the detonation of some kind of electromagnetic pulse device, which has disrupted the city’s electrical utilities. A press conference has reportedly been scheduled for later this evening. We’ll be on the air all through the current crisis, giving you up-to-date information as quickly as we…”
The announcer’s voice broke up into wild static and sound. Thomas reached over and flicked the radio off. “Had it on for twenty minutes,” he said. “Got a clear signal for maybe five of them.”
I grunted.
“Do you know what’s happened?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Where’s Butters?”
Thomas tilted his head toward the back door. “Walking Mouse.”
I took a seat at the little kitchen table, getting my weight off of my injured leg. “Today’s going to be pretty intense,” I said.
Thomas flipped a pancake. “Because of the heirs of Kemmler?”
“Yeah,” I said. “If Mab is right about what they’re trying to do, someone has to stop them before tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because after that I’m not sure anyone will be able to stop them,” I said.
My brother nodded. “Think you can take them?”
“They’re fighting among themselves,” I said. “They’re all going to be more worried about their fellow necromancers than they are about me.”
“Uh-huh
,” Thomas said. “But do you think you can take them?”
“No.”
“Then what you’re talking about isn’t heroism, man. It’s suicide.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need to kill them. I only need to stop them. If I play this right, I won’t need to fight anybody.”
Thomas flipped another pancake. The cooked side was a uniform shade of perfect light brown. “How are you going to manage that?”
“They need two things to make this godhood thing go,” I said. “The Erlking and the knowledge in The Word of Kemmler. If I can deny them either, the whole shebang is canceled.”
“You figure out those numbers yet?” Thomas asked.
“No.”
“So…what? You going to put a hit on the Erlking to keep him from showing up?”
I shook my head. “Mab gave me the impression that the Erlking was in the same weight class as her.”
“She tough?” Thomas asked.
“Beyond the pale,” I said.
“So you can’t kill the Erlking. What, then?”
“I summon him myself.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Look, no matter how mighty he is, he can’t be in two places at once. If I call him up and keep him busy, then the heirs can’t summon him to their ceremony.”
He nodded. “How are you going to call him?”
“The book,” I said. “It’s almost got to be one of those poems or songs. One of them must be an incantation to attract the Erlking’s attention.”
“But you don’t have the book,” Thomas said.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s the kink I haven’t worked out yet.”
Thomas nodded, scraping the last of the batter out of a bowl and onto the griddle. “Even if you do figure out how to call the Erlking, it sounds like he might be kinda dangerous.”
“Probably. But impersonal. That means not as dangerous as one of the heirs going godly and showing up to give me some payback for annoying them.” I shrugged. “And the only one in danger will be me.”
“Wrong,” Thomas said. “I’ll be with you.”
I had been sure he would say something like that, but hearing it still felt pretty good. Thomas had a truckload of baggage, and he wasn’t always the most pleasant person in the world—but he was my brother. Family. He’d stand with me.