by Richard Hein
“My four to your three,” Kate said from the corner of her mouth. “Getting slow, old man.”
I shot her a look. “Mine had drug-spikes. Did any of yours have drug-spikes? Mine were worth six of yours.”
“Is that so?”
“When you write up the report on this—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Okay,” I said, pitching my voice to carry. “Let’s try the diplomatic option again. I’m looking for Simon. Tallish. Glasses. Moved to Seattle from some shithole adjacent universe.”
The bartender crossed her arms. “Why should we talk to your kind? Look what you’ve done to us. Your weapons give you away, Ordo.”
I threw up my hands. “I tried to be diplomatic as fuck,” I snapped. “Porky attacked me when all I wanted was some damned information.”
“Porky?” Kate whispered.
“He looked particularly porcine,” I said back. “Just coincidental he also had porcupine quills, so it works on—”
“Don’t. Just… don’t.”
The bartender shared a look with one of the other standing patrons, then back at us. We stared across the expanse of the bar in silence for a moment.
“You will speak with Circe,” the creature said at last.
Kate groaned.
“You know Circe?” I asked, confused. I held up an apologetic, pausing finger at the demons and turned to face Kate.
“The Odyssey?” Kate said in an exasperated voice. “Circe? An island of people turned into pigs?”
I stared blankly.
“Read a book!” Kate hissed.
“Well, roll this Circe on out here and let’s get with the gabbing,” I said back to the demons.
The bartender gave a single shake of its head. Heavy jowls swung. “You will see her in her kingdom. The queen sits atop her throne where you will prostrate yourself before—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “There’s always one in every bunch. Going with you to see some queen demon thing is probably not good for my health. We go along, we’re all walking and talking, and then suddenly we’re shitty bar appetizers for your demon dogs. Some sort of neutral middle ground?”
“You want information. Either leave now or come to the queen’s kingdom. Perhaps she will entertain your desire for knowledge.” Another pause. “The queen will grant you protection while in her realm, pending you do not provoke us again.”
“Not my fault,” I muttered and rubbed at my eyes. My lids still felt heavy, but the effects seemed to clear. “Well, this says trap all over it, right?”
“Trap,” Kate agreed.
“A bad idea, yeah?”
“Pretty bad.”
“We’re going to do this, though?”
Kate grinned. “Seems to be the only way to get the information we want. Think they’ll hold to the whole ‘protection’ thing?”
“Maybe,” I said, rubbing my chin. “There’s an infinite number of variations on demon things. Some see the future like Michael and his angels, some grow spikes laced with morphine. Some have weird rituals and are bound to not lie. I’ve run into a few that could be said to be entirely honest in how they dealt with people while still stabbing them in the back with the letter of their supposed law.”
I sighed and turned to stare at the bartender. “Okay, alien creature,” I said, collapsing my baton on the sticky floor. “Take us to your leader.”
Chapter 8
I shivered at the change in temperature, the sudden balmy heat wicking away the Seattle chill in an instant. One moment Kate and I were ushered to a door marked 'supplies' across from the bathroom in The Odyssey, the next we stepped into a demi-universe protruding into our own. It was becoming old hat. Besides Sanctuary, I’d entered a pocket universe half a dozen times by now, which might be some kind of record.
I’d have to ask Daniel to look into it. Maybe give myself a plaque or something.
The crash of surf murmured pleasantly in the background as the group of us stepped onto black sand. A brilliant azure sky, unbroken by cloud or bird, stretched from horizon to horizon. A little path of white stones made a sharp contrast to the dark sand, meandering toward the steep rise of a hill that looked like volcanic stone, looming hundreds of feet into the air.
At the top sprouted a white tree, glimmering in the light. I swallowed at the sight. It towered above the hill, its skeletal fingers clawing a thousand feet or more into the air. Nestled in jutting and jagged branches sat a building of white marble, a dozen fluted pillars supporting a triangular roof, entirely held within the tree’s boughs. I could just make out slabs of stone hovering in mid-air, twining around the bole of the tree larger than anything that had ever grown on Earth, a hovering stairway to the palace.
Flanking the path to the hill lay a score of crystalline statues a hundred feet tall, each depicting an alien beauty with six arms and sharp, angular features. Their gazes were piercing, diamond eyes seeming to stare through to my soul.
I gave a low whistle. “This might beat what the Twins have,” I said.
“This is sweet,” Kate agreed, “but they’ve got that whole ‘alien planet’ vibe going on. Bonus point for something tropical though.”
“You will stay silent,” the bartender rasped. I glanced at the creature. Patrons from the bar flanked us, and all of them kept their eyes stoically fixated on the building ahead of us. “Speak only when spoken to in this holy place. If you are lucky, Queen Circe will not harvest your impertinent tongues.”
“Well, you promised us protection,” I pointed out with a shrug. “Not speaking wasn’t part of that deal.”
The creature stared, muscles twitching in its face. Without a word it turned and stormed across the sand.
We marched in silence, broken only by the crunch of sand beneath our feet and the hypnotic whispering of the surf. I could see the ocean to either side of us, a vast blanket of blue that rivaled the sky, gentle waves cresting to little whitecaps before dashing against the shore. The wind kicked up, warm and pleasant, and I found myself sweating beneath my jacket.
I needed to talk to Sanctuary about the choice of locale. The OFC was getting shown up by all the creepy alien creatures.
Distances were deceptive. The hill had looked close, but it took our little group a good quarter hour to approach the base, where it soared above us to the enormous tree. We ascended a series of zigzagging stairs, each inscribed with flowing runes, and by the top I was breathing harder than I liked. From there we clambered over roots the thickness of cars, and began an ascent by stepping from one apparently unsupported stone to another, twisting around the trunk. My chest ached with the exertion, and my mind tried not to ponder a plunge from such a height.
My breathing, however, stopped when we crested the final step and entered the open-walled building.
The building was deceptive in size. From the ground, it had looked large, given it was a quarter mile up in the air and still massive. Here at the top, however, it dwarfed most stadiums. Probably even small cities. The pillars holding the roof stood a hundred feet or more high. Braziers of brass burned with a sickly green flame around the perimeter. At the far side, beyond the edge of the building, the fingers of the tree poked up, somehow supporting the massive weight of the marble building.
It was the throne and its occupant that stole my breath, though. Circe, I presumed, sat upon a throne of bones. It was crafted of a few dozen human-sized skeletons. I wondered if it was a construction of this place or if those were actual human bones lashed together into the foul seat. It rose above the marble floor by a good two meters, allowing the alien creature a sweeping view of all its subjects.
And subjects Circe had.
Two dozen figures knelt around the periphery, knees to smooth stone, heads bowed and eyes averted. None looked human. Most looked like anthropomorphic pigs like Porky had, though skinnier. Far more armed than any pigs I’d ever run into. Each carried a sheath at one hip sporting the hilt of a sword. Their hands, I noted with sick
fascination, were human-looking. A few of the other creatures looked alien, few having two legs or arms, most covered in carapaces and with far too many eyes.
“Your majesty,” the bartender said, stopping far short of the grisly throne and prostrating before Circe. “These two humans seek your wisdom.” The others escorting us adopted a similar pose.
I crossed my arms and stared.
The bartender stole a glance at me filled with scorn. I shrugged.
Circe regarded us, one elbow of many balanced on some poor sap’s skull where it formed the end of the throne’s arm. The Entity was too tall, too lithe, with a pale skin that had a hint of blue in it. Six long arms grew from the elongated torso. Its face was beautiful and alien, narrow and angular with deep emerald eyes that watched with keen attention. The creature wore soft, flowing robes, bound about the waist with a golden sash. A circlet of silver rested atop luxurious black hair that cascaded down like a waterfall across its shoulders.
“I,” the creature said, “am Circe, queen of this place.”
I gave a slight nod, not used to addressing creatures from alternate dimensions in any fashion other than as detritus to sweep up. Kate followed my lead and gave a similar gesture. Our escort group tensed, and the kneeling figures all lifted their faces to regard us with naked hatred.
Circe styled herself a queen, and apparently expected certain formalities. Well, two could play that game.
“I am Chancellor Samuel Walker,” I intoned, straightening, “Leader of the Ordo Felix Culpa.”
An angry murmur flickered through the subjects arrayed around us. I grinned and nodded to them.
“Yes, yes,” I said. “A celebrity in your midst. No autographs or flash photography, please. I’d also like to introduce the Intern Kate White, Beater of Ass and Taker of Names.”
“That’s going on the business cards,” Kate whispered. “No take-backs.”
Circe’s eyes narrowed at my announcement. The creature rose from the throne, all agile grace, and strode down to the level of us mere mortals and service alien creatures. The elfin creature walked barefoot to us, the servants falling silent at her passing.
“Walker,” Circe said, making a slow circuit around us with cold, appraising eyes. “So. You are the successor to the toppled throne of Sanctuary.”
This time I gave a deep and mocking bow. “In the flesh.”
“Yes,” Circe said, drawing out the word. The creature paused, eyes flicking down to the furrow torn across my stomach and through my shirt, matted with blood.
“I apologize for how I look,” I said with a hapless, exaggerated shrug. “I got into a tussle with the three little pigs and wasn’t given time to dress for the occasion.”
Circe’s eyes lifted to mine. “As well you should apologize,” the thing said, smiling, “but I believe the fault rests with your parents.”
I blinked.
Lauren cackled in my mind. Beside me, Kate snickered. I pressed my eyes closed and sighed.
“Let’s cut the shit,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets and staring down the queen of this realm. Well, staring up given Circe was nearly twice my height. “I’m told you might have information that’s useful.”
“My queen,” the bartender breathed, never glancing up. “These two assaulted members of your court. Some were exiled from Earth.”
“Is this true?” Circe asked me. “Why should I answer anything when destruction wreathes you so?”
“We beat them up only a little,” Kate said, holding up thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“I was there asking questions,” I snapped, feeling a heated flush surge through my veins. I took a step forward. Two dozen servants rose and took a similar step forward, hands flashing to swords. “Your goons attacked me first. I’m here to help one of your kind.”
“My kind,” Circe echoed, resuming the slow pacing, describing a circle around Kate and me. “As long as you keep insisting you are separate and holy, Walker, you’ll continue creating problems.”
I swept a thumb at Kate and me. “Humans with souls. We create. We build. We crafted wonderful works of art, breathtaking literature, and Hair Metal.”
I jerked the thumb at Circe. “Alien demon creatures that have to be called up by one of us poor humans. You consume, you feed, you corrupt.”
You corrupted yourself, Lauren said in my mind. The voice sounded sad and worn down. You worked magic to end my life, Samuel. Your consequences are from your choices, and your actions alone.
My jaw snapped shut with an audible crack as Lauren’s words rocked me.
“All creatures have a right to exist,” Circe said with a chiding shake of a pointed chin.
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Just not on Earth. Here, in this place, Kate and I are the outsiders, the Extra-Dimensional Entities. You don’t see me pissing in a glass and calling it lemonade here, do you?”
“Perhaps I should keep you here,” Circe said, smile fading. “An eternity trapped, a jester for my court, a trained monkey to dance for my whims. If I cannot have him, then the Chancellor of the Ordo would make a fine trophy.”
Him? I thought. Someone was already on Circe’s list. “I have two left feet. I’d be a shit show and you know it.”
“Instead of arguing all day,” Kate said, exasperated, “let’s work out a deal. We’re looking for information on a… non-human visitor to our universe. We were told you may have information you were reticent to share with associates of ours — Stefan and Dieter.”
Circe stepped away and regarded the bartender. “Do I know them?”
“The curio shop owners, majesty,” the bartender said, eyes averted. “We’ve had dealings with them in the past.”
“Ah,” Circe said. The creature spun and ascended the steps to the throne once more. “Yes. Those two. They allow themselves to work with the Ordo, then? How curious.” Circe’s eyes grew amused. “Perhaps the Ordo has fallen even farther than I suspected. I wonder if you even have the power to police your own city now, let alone the world. Could you stop my children were I to send them out into the Seattle night to suck the marrow from Norman Lockyer’s bones? Tell me, Chancellor. Do you rule from a hollow throne?”
“Lockyer?” I repeated before my mind caught up with my mouth. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
Circe’s smile was all teeth. “He has been quite the thorn in my side for a number of years.”
“Are you telling me you and Lockyer have been playing at some supernatural cold war?”
“We could do little while the Ordo kept vigilant watch,” Circe said. “Nothing overt, anyway. The winds of change blow differently now. If the Ordo is impotent, however, perhaps I should—”
“Oh, no you don’t,” I snapped, pointing a finger at Circe. “You don’t get to—”
Kate put a firm hand on my arm and with effort I let the words die. “A trade, then?” Kate said, stepping forward. “What would information that can help us in this goal cost us?”
Circe seemed to consider this. “Do I have your assurance you don’t intend to harm him? A vow upon your special little souls?”
I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’m being paid to find, not exterminate. Cross my heart, hope to—” I considered the none-too-friendly crowd I was in. “Hope to find his ass and get paid.”
Long, lacquered fingernails drummed upon a hollowed skull. “There is a book I’ve been made aware of. A book in the clutches of the Ordo. Vitae Superno. I want it.”
I frowned and shared a look with Kate. She’d been down in the stacks when time allowed, but apparently had no more idea than I did on what this book entailed. Daniel would know. The kid probably had a pocket card catalog on him at all times.
Supernatural Life by Isaac Day, Lauren said. Not like home life, but energy or spirit. It’s… God, I barely remember. Something like a treatise on the human soul and its uniqueness across the infinite dimensions. An in-depth look at how Entities are willpower made flesh and how that mimic
s, but is not equal to, a human soul. Blah blah blah, something about magic. I don’t know. I didn’t read all of it.
Surprise flashed through me. This was, to my only recollection, the only time the creature pretending to be Lauren had shown any information that might be from Lauren. There was no way an extra-dimensional visitor would have details about a book in our archives. For a moment, I stood there, heart thundering loud in my ears.
Could it be her?
I pushed the thoughts aside. No. There was no way. Demons were tricky. I had to have read a synopsis on the book in the decade of my working there, and while I might not consciously remember it, my brain kept those details locked away and the demon I shared it with was probably watching my old mental home movies.
“I’m aware of it,” I said casually, stepping away from the center of the expansive room. My feet whispered across the stone of white flecked with blues and golds as I made a tour of the assembled creatures. I hated being in the center of a group’s attention like that. This was about control, forcing Kate and me to stand beneath their collective gazes. Moving brought authority back into my hands.
“The question is, why are you interested in it?” Kate asked, following my lead. She broke away to the right, hands clasped behind her back, eyes meeting those of each creature.
I smiled at the question. She knew exactly where I was going. I spun and tilted my chin, staring up at the queen on high.
“How do you even know about it?” I asked. “Our library doesn’t grant day passes. We’re not in the habit of loaning out books to any other-reality being that pops in and asks. Tell me how you come by this knowledge and we have a deal.”
Kate stopped dead, spinning to stare at me, surprise clear on her face. She hadn’t expected me to agree on this.
To be fair, neither had I.
Circe leaned forward, eyes eager. That gave me pause. How could a book be of such interest to an Entity?