by Paul Sating
"What is he doing there?" I turned to face the Council, finding them more interesting than the Overworld.
"Sneaking away, skirting responsibilities," Apopis spat, his black hair shimmering above his scowling expression.
"We can't be sure about that." Michael drew out each one of his words, measuring each syllable. "What we know at the moment is that Aries disappeared from the Ninth Circle about six months ago."
"And you're just looking for him now?"
"No. And we had," Michael paused, "other considerations and factors at play."
Beelzebub pounded the table with a fist. "It matters not what we do or why we do it, Michael. This isn't his concern."
"That's true, it's not," the Council's leader said, conceding to his peer. "But I'm loath to send him off with anything less than the most information we can share."
"May I?" Seraph offered. When Michael motioned toward me, she continued. "Aries is a difficult demon. He's tired, jaded."
"Bitter," Beelzebub snarled.
"Bitter," Seraph echoed. "Far be it for any of us to judge his feelings, but his discontent grew over the past few centuries and, in all honesty, we were busy with other things, concerned more with them than his well-being or even his perspective. It was our failing."
"For sure," Azazel said.
Seraph sat back, crossing her arms underneath her healthy chest. She curled that eyebrow again. "Eyes up here," she said with a slight smirk, apparently absolving me, for which I was grateful. "As it is," she continued once my eyes found hers, "Aries forwent certain responsibilities for a life up there." Seraph gestured toward the ceiling of the Council chamber as if it were a gateway to the Overworld.
"He deserted us like the bastard he is," Apopis snarled, his last word ringing with a lingering 's' sound that outlasted his lips' movements.
Michael wagged a finger. "We're unsure of his reasons, though he surely had them. You will go in search of Aries in Seattle and, upon finding him, you will notify us and attempt to bring him home. That is your task."
Somewhere in the haze of details and the surreal situation I was in the middle of, I forgot to ask what would happen if I said 'no'.
Beelzebub pushed up and away from the jade table, his massive triceps flexing to ridiculous proportions beneath his robe. "There is no option to say 'no' to us." He leaned forward, making the veins in his neck bulge. "Aries is a danger to all of us. This is no game, boy."
I really needed to stop thinking around these Founders, seeing the irony in the thought only after it occurred. The five faces on the other side of the table confirmed that my self-criticism also registered with them.
"At first light, you will depart for the Overworld," Beelzebub ordered. "It is that simple."
"We've worked out a plan and will share that with you once you're ready," Azazel interjected.
"And … wha—what if I can't? What if I can't survive it without magic?"
"This boy has a thick skull," Beelzebub growled.
"I think he's smarter than he displays." Apopis's eyes narrowed to slits.
Azazel exhaled slowly, casting a sidelong glance at his large peer. "As we mentioned, having no ability to cast makes you impervious to Aries's magic. It makes you perfect for this task."
Well, that had to be the first time someone had ever said that about me, in any capacity, never mind in reference to being the Segregate.
Seraph's lips curled into an unnerving smile. "What makes you think we'd send you to the Overworld without magic?"
I looked between the five major demons, questioning my sanity. They knew I possessed no Abilities. Everyone in the Fifth Circle, and probably beyond, was aware I was the Segregate. I'd be prey for the humans, should they discover my true nature. What in the heaven was she talking about?
The last thing I wanted for my future was an unceremonious death in the Overworld. "I'd basically be helpless up there without it."
The five glanced at each other, Michael watched his peers' reactions, stiffly nodding after a moment and turning. "That's right. You'd be as helpless as a human babe."
"Thank you," I said, but it sounded more like a question.
And that's when the situation improved.
Michael said, "You can't cast magic, but your friends can."
6 - Underworld
"You're shitting me?" Bilba ran a hand through his hair.
Funny, what aspects of the mortal lexicon can make its way to the Underworld and vice versa. I pinched my nose and looked my best friend dead in the eyes. "I'm not."
"They ..." Bilba seemed to struggle to even name the five demons who changed his life less than an hour ago. "They want me to go to the surface with you? The Overworld? To find a Founder? Zeke, don't fuck with me, man. That's not cool."
"I'm not, I promise." My smile couldn't have been wider. I was scared about going to the Overworld, but knowing Bilba would be there helped make the task more acceptable. "Why would I screw around about something like this?"
His eyes narrowed. "Because you're the most paranoid demon I know? Everyone out to screw you all the time? To trust Zeke or no? That is the question."
"I don't remember that being part of our Human Literacy class."
Bilba slapped his knee. "If you'd paid attention back then, you would."
"It was boring, plus you have an unfair advantage," I countered.
"What's that?"
"You have a photographic memory. You look at something, and it sticks. Remember our one-hundred-forty-fourth year exams? I spent weeks holed up in my room, studying, while you were playing games and reading magazines. It comes too easily for your own good."
"And you're too smart for your own good. You just get distracted too easily."
I smirked. "At least I have that going for me. If you want to know the truth, they didn't explain much to me because, I guess we're supposed to have some sort of meeting later. But the Council had it in their plans all along. They say I have to go because I'm the Segregate, that it will give me an advantage against Aries because he won't be able to sense me. Not having magic has some advantages, apparently. But going alone isn't something they trusted me with either. I will need magic at some point in all of this, especially to protect me against anyone protecting Aries, and that's where you come in."
"Why us? Two minor demons? And why wasn't I called to their chambers?"
"We won't draw suspicion from the angels," I said with a flick of my hand. "Heavens, they probably wouldn't notice if they tripped over us. And, they didn't call you because they didn't need to. They know all about you and your Ability. Because I'm …"
"Special?" he prodded with a smartass smirk.
I slugged him in the arm. "Yes, asshole. Because I'm special, they called me. I guess to confirm their suspicions or something."
We were in Bilba's bedroom. His father was returning from a demon free-for-all that bachelor fathers went on from time to time. The fact Bilba still hadn't found his path out of the house at his age just encouraged Akimon to get away for some peace. My parents would too, I'm sure, if they could afford it.
Bilba decorated his walls with a variety of fictional heroes of demonology, from ancient history up to and including our popular fiction. Bilba and I were different in many ways; he had Abilities, I could only think about casting; he liked the more trendy demonic music, while I had edgier tastes, preferring songs that included lyrics sung forward—something we fought about from time to time; but one thing we had in common was that we loved covering our walls with demons who didn't exist in the mundane. Like we have for our entire existence.
"Well then," he said, "how will I know it's official?"
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the parchment I was told to deliver to my friend.
It shook in his hands. His eyes widened and thick eyebrows fluttered. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Your official notification."
Bilba slapped the parchment against his leg. "Thanks for ruining the buildup, Zeke."
I chuckled. "Sorry about that."
But depriving him of the big reveal moment didn't stop his hands shaking as he unfolded the note and read it. I watched his eyes move back and forth across the lines. When he finished, he re-read it and looked at me, a hint of trepidation in his eyes. "Chosen. I've really been chosen. Wait until Dad hears about this."
"Congrats, bud," I said, faking enthusiasm the best I could.
Bilba fell backward on his bed, staring up at the poster on the ceiling, displaying arguably the greatest caster of Constructive magic in the history of our kind, Jelroi Raxu. Locking his hands behind his head, staring up at his role model, he sighed. "Do you realize, both of us being sent to the Overworld will change our lives forever? You get that, right?"
"I guess so."
He sat up on his elbows, hiding the white patches of dried skin. "What do you mean, you 'guess so'? It's the truth, man. You. Me. In the Overworld! When we come back, we'll live like kings, I swear."
"You mean, if we come back." Look, I don't enjoy raining on a demon's parade, but I couldn't let Bilba get away with unhelpful and unrealistic expectations.
My best friend looked at me as if I'd grown a third eye. "If? It's a fact. We're going, and we will have fun and return home after kicking ass. Do you know how easy it'll be to pick up succubi after this? And, trust me, you need all the help you can get in that department."
"You seem to have forgotten the entire reason we're going to the Overworld is to capture a Founder, right? A freaking Founder. How in the world are we supposed to do that?" The question was a routine one for me, but Bilba looked taken by surprise. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed into slits. When he stuttered to find an answer, he confirmed to me he had invested no clear thought into this. To be fair, I'd just told him about my meeting with the Council, and he had just seen his official notification. I didn't want to remind him that examining the possibilities of existence wasn't exactly Bilba's strong suit, photographic memory or not.
A massive smile creased his face. "You've got me, Zeke. The Council will definitely have a plan. You'll see. We'll go up there, I'll cast a few spells to trap him, and then we'll come back heroes. It'll be great!"
I loved his confidence, but I questioned his analytical skills. Bilba was a great caster, one of the best for his age on the Fifth Circle, but the Overworld would not care about that. He, like me, was still a minor demon going up against a Founder. An overabundance of confidence didn't justify overlooking that fact. Whatever the reason Aries had for running away, he was still a highly regarded and powerful demon. I wasn't convinced Bilba understood that.
"This will be dangerous," I said, hoping a bit of rationality would seep through Bilba's thick head.
Bilba stared dreamingly up at the image of his hero, Jelroi Raxu. "So what? This is an opportunity most demons would kill to have. And you and I are doing it, Zeke. We're really doing it!"
"Yeah."
He sat up suddenly and puffed, pulling himself out of bed. Bilba wasn't quick. In fact, he was the clumsiest demon in the neighborhood. Love him to death, but he couldn't out-grace a turtle. "Oh man, Dad needs to get home. I've got to tell him. He will be so proud."
I got up too. There was no sense in hanging out in his room by myself. My thoughts would just haunt me until I went mad.
Bilba bounced toward the kitchen to grab a snack, his excitement excruciating, while I saw myself out. Best friends for thousands of years, we knew each other as well as we knew ourselves and I had to get away before I dampened his mood. He was not seeing the bigger picture, that this was a dangerous mission, even if everything went well. It was all I could think about, all I had been thinking about.
Walking the wide blackened brimstone path toward home, I watched life in the Fifth Circle pass. The imps and implings playing in front yards under the watchful eyes of their parents; the chimera-drawn carriages transporting those who could afford them to destinations where, most likely, they would spend more of their coin; the annoying fairies, sylphs, and pixies that flitted around in the air, antagonizing each other and the Underworld's wingless residents. This Circle was my home, its citizens, my demons, the same who had often been cruel to me because of my lack of Abilities. They laughed at me behind my back when I passed because I was the anomaly. The Segregate. I was different and always would be. Never like them.
What if the Overworld wasn't as bad as I imagined? Sure, it would be foreign but that didn't mean it would be horrible, did it? I mean, what did I have going for me here? Was Bilba's optimism rubbing off on me? The realm of humans was the one realm where demons are vulnerable. We could get hurt, be injured, even die; something that seemed lost on Bilba. Even considering those inconvenient truths, the Overworld might not be any worse than my current situation, living in a place that refused to accept me because of things beyond my control.
Was I really thinking about this against my staunchest beliefs?
My powerlessness still bothered me. Having no say in the course of my life wasn't cool, causing a deep-rooted cloud to hang over my mood all the way home, past my mother who was filling out paperwork for her in-home business, and up to my room. At least my father was still at work, sparing me a talking-to about something I wasn't interested in talking about.
On my bed, Mother had laid out a suitcase, already stuffed with all the personal items she thought I would need. It would weigh a hundred pounds, crammed as full as it was with everything that was my life. I lightly placed my hand on the vacuum bags suffocating my clothes. Mother had taken so much time and care to ensure I had everything I needed for the trip.
And that's when it hit me hard; my mother cared and always stood up for and by me when the rest of the Underworld rejected me and treated me like a freak. I had to be frustrating for both my parents, because what young adult isn't, especially when their parents are convinced every decision their child makes is a poor one?
But that didn't change the fact that they always stood by me when no one except Bilba had. I couldn't ignore that. Going to the Overworld would bring them a level of respect the nature of my birth had stripped them of while giving them hope that I would be okay after all and would serve a purpose they could be proud of.
On the top of the suitcase lay a family photo, the three of us on the one and only family trip we took. It happened after I graduated from school six hundred years ago, and we went to see the River Styx Canyon, the grandest canyon in all the Underworld. We looked like a happy family. I looked happy. Back then, my eyes still held hope for my future.
My fingers traced the picture as if I could almost feel the memories. In all the years from that day to this, my life hadn't really changed. I was older and arguably slightly wiser, but that was it. Today's Zeke was essentially in the same place as the moment we took that picture. The Zeke in that picture had a purpose. The Zeke holding the picture could not say the same.
I replaced the photograph and zipped up the suitcase with a yank. My cheeks burned with humiliation and I was thankful, once again, that I was alone. No one needed to see this. I'm an ugly pouter.
I stayed in my room until dinner was ready and I went downstairs to join my parents for what might be our last meal together.
7 - Underworld
The thing about living in the Underworld that mortals may find strange, but which cannot be judged as either good or bad, is that we never see the sun. The only understanding of it we have comes from geography textbooks and mortal movies, which make it look glorious but still alien to us demons who have never seen it. The Hellfire is our source of light and, no matter how powerful its blue glow is at its peak, we understand it doesn't rival the mortal's orb.
Without access to natural light, we don't have a cyclical way of waking to a new day—though we do have the Grand Chamber that contains the Hellfire, which is opened and closed daily to give us our circadian rhythm.
That's why the Underworld has Callers.
Massive towers are spread all across the Circle and sig
nal the passage of time for those living close enough to them. But for the thousands who don't, hundreds of Callers operate on synchronized schedules and ensure each stratum, zone, and sector are notified of the official start of a new day.
Magical creatures with little in the way of personalities, Callers are a product of powerful Construction magic. Possessing no Abilities, since they're nothing more than moving, breathing spells, Callers are creepy. Personally, I don't trust them because they're avoidant of demons. I saw one once, its slender body melded into the corners of the evening shadows. About four feet tall, she was one of the few creatures in the Fifth Circle who was smaller than me. Long appendages swayed with a grace that would have made Bilba blush. Her body was a monolith of purple scales, from fingertips to the end of her hair, which was formed from thick, purple strands molded into a single piece that drooped down her back. Even her oval eyes were a consistent sea of purple.
Like I said, Callers are creepy.
I fist pumped the air when she crept along our street, sending her high-pitched call to wake into the early morning. For the first time, I'd beaten a Caller to the start of a new day, though most of the credit went to my father for making enough noise to wake the Abolished, the demons who are no longer with us.
Exhausted from a night of lousy sleep and a passive-aggressive wakening, a weight pressed on my chest. Her duty being executed, the Caller's actions reminded me of what was to come. Change.
That thought lingered with me long after the Caller's creepy screech faded down the street.
"Let's get going!" My father yelled from downstairs.
I sighed and pulled the suitcase behind me, taking in my bedroom, the only private sanctuary I'd ever known. It was like staring at my younger self in the mirror and recognizing all the heartache and pain that awaited that young man.