Bitter Aries (The Zodiac Book 1)

by Paul Sating

  His mouth opened and his teeth were stained pink with blood mixed with saliva. I could see a long gash down the side of his face and his hair turning to pink.

  "Use it, young one," he croaked through a cough that almost pushed him to his stomach.

  Beelzebub glanced sideways but neither Bilba nor Ralrek seemed to hear the comment.

  Beelzebub's fire wind pushed closer, a gale force that relentlessly nullified Aries's black tar attacks. The Council member's fire wind grew more voluminous, lifting the runaway demon off his feet. With a growl that would have given Lucifer nightmares, Beelzebub put more energy into the spell, flinging Aries into the back wall and pressing him against it. The old demon looked crucified in his own home.

  I whimpered.

  Aries gagged against the force of the wind, his eyes never leaving mine. "Use it! The gift, use it. Hurry!"

  "I don't have a gift!"

  "Gift! Gave you!" Aries choked on his words now.

  Beelzebub growled and pulled his arm back before shooting it forward immediately. Aries was pulled off the wall and slammed back against it. The breaking of bones cracked. Aries screamed.

  Bilba conjured two metal clamps. They shot through the air and wrapped themselves around Aries's wrists, securing him to the wall.

  Ralrek's spells were nothing more than small balls about the size of a donut, but Aries yelped each time one struck him. Then the flames from the constant fire spells licked at his feet, moving up, wrapping both in their fiery grip.

  "Stop!" I demanded.

  Aries's cry weakened.

  Bilba's latest snake dropped from the ceiling and coiled itself around the ancient demon's throat, constricting.

  "Stop it! You're killing him!" I ran to Bilba and grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around. He looked at me dumbly, almost in a daze.

  Ralrek was close, but I didn't bother grabbing him. Instead, I jumped on his back, wrapping my arm around his throat and pulling. We tumbled to the floor, Bilba screaming at me. At me!

  Ralrek grabbed my arm with both of his hands and tried to yank it away, but I wasn't letting go. I clamped tighter, feeling the burn through my shoulder. I held on until he was too weak to even slap my arm.

  "Stop it, Zeke!"

  I ignored him. I wanted to hurt Ralrek now, hurt him as bad as he'd hurt Aries.

  Through the dying chaos, a tiny voice penetrated my rage.

  It was raspy. Weak. "Please ... now, young one …"

  Aries.

  Reluctantly, I released Ralrek and got to my feet. He rolled over, gasping for air. At that point I did not care if he was successful or not. Pulling the stick from my pants pocket, I looked at it.

  Creed.

  I inspected it closely, looking for a sign, symbol, or any hint of what made this stick the most powerful weapon in the Underworld. My eyes scrambled over its length, finding nothing obvious. I ran my forefinger and thumb down its length looking for notches and, again, coming up empty. The stick was blunted on both ends. I could not do more than poke Beelzebub in the eyes with it.

  I panicked. My brain scrambled to find something, anything, useful about this gift. Every second spent looking for a clue was a second closer to death for Aries. I had to find something, but there was nothing on the stupid stick that gave me a clue how to use it. To me, Creed was only a stick. Why had Aries not given me something useful before we were interrupted?

  "It's yours," Aries choked, a thick line of dark red trailing from the corner of his mouth and dropping to his white robe. "Live by its name."

  Aries's chest shook rapidly and then, releasing a wispy breath, he was gone and demonkind lost the last first of his name.

  His voice promised to haunt me for the rest of my life. Most demons live for sixty or seventy thousand years. I'd lost no one close or even seen a tragic accident that brought a life to an early end. Now I knew the sound of death.

  I pulled my eyes away and looked at the stick named Creed.

  Live by its name?

  "Thanks for nothing, Creed. You asshole," I said, my voice coming out in a croak. I was about to put it in my waistband and dropped it. Before it hit the ground, I caught it. Shaking the stick at Beelzebub, his eyes grew wide, locked on the gift from Aries. "You son of a cherub! Why did you do this to him?" My voice shook with adrenaline and rage, but I probably still sounded like a bratty impling to someone like the Prince of Demons. I did not care.

  I pointed Creed at him, gripping it tightly enough to crack my knuckles as my fingers pinched down. I shook Creed at the massive demon, who had now squared on me, his chest rising and falling as he panted. A subtle clinking sound, like the unlatching of a door at the end of a long, quiet hall, sounded from inside Creed. I was about to threaten to beat the internal life out of the major demon with it when the stick was no longer a stick.

  The short piece of wood extended in both directions, growing to six feet long. A metallic chunk sound came from both ends once it stopped extending. Two blue ax heads, one half-moon, the other an asymmetrical head featuring single metal spikes on the top and bottom, jutted from the top end. At the bottom of the stick, a wavy eight-inch blade pointed to the floor. The blades looked sharp enough to slice a mosquito in mid-flight. I almost dropped the halberd—I would never call this weapon a stick again.

  Power surged through me.

  Something foreign. Something untapped.

  I trembled with a new fire, deep within me. My calfs felt fuller, thighs knotted with muscle, and my biceps twitched to be released.

  I held violence in my hands.

  And I no longer feared Beelzebub.

  The halberd pulsed with an energy that warmed the wood.

  The fight was over, and so was our mission.

  Aries was dead.

  His adversary felled, Beelzebub's hulking form dominated the room chilled by death. His nose flared like a bull. I watched his hands for any hint of ill intentions on his part. If they even twitched, I was going to test Creed's capabilities.

  Beelzebub's eyes never left the halberd.

  "Well, well, well," he said with a snarl. "This changes everything."

  ***

  The Founder snapped his fingers and the rift closed behind us.

  We were standing in the Council chamber, Bilba and Ralrek to one side of the Council member, and me on the other. None of us spoke. The other four Council members sat at the large jade table. Each was dressed in comfortable, casual clothing that betrayed the urgency of this impromptu welcome.

  Beelzebub walked straight to the water jug and filled a large glass.

  "Come forward," Michael's smooth voice echoed in the stark room. "I think we all want to get this over with as quickly as possible."

  The two minor demons stepped forward, I lagged but moved closer. Inside the waistband of my pants, Creed pulsated. Between it and the tingling sensation in my skull, I could barely focus on my steps.

  "Let's get this over with quickly," Apopis hissed. "I don't appreciate being interrupted by a traitor. Let's dispense his judgment and be done with him."

  "Mmm, not so quickly," Azazel said, stroking his goatee. "The mission was ... accomplished, though not on our agreed-by terms."

  "It was accomplished. That's all that matters," Beelzebub said from the water jug.

  "Come, sit," Michael pulled out the chair next to him. "Join us so we can proceed."

  Beelzebub waved away the offer. "I'd rather stand. The old bastard put up a fight."

  Seraph slapped her hand on the table. "Don't be so flippant, Beelzebub. Aries was a first of his name. Have a little decency for his memory, if nothing else."

  A grunt was the only reply she received.

  Michael cleared his throat, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward across the table. "You two," he said to Bilba and Ralrek, "may go. We'll send a message in the morning about how you can see the Financier to finalize your payment."

  "Thank you," Bilba said, his voice cracking.

  Ralrek pushe
d his chest out. "Thank you, sirs and ma'am. It was an honor to serve you."

  The pair stood still until Seraph arched her eyebrow. "Why are you still here? Go rest. You'll be paid tomorrow."

  Bilba jumped slightly as if an insect had pinched his toe. "Yes, sorry. Come on."

  He and Ralrek turned to go, but not before he shot a curious, almost worried glance my way.

  I swallowed, partially fearing the moment he walked out of the chamber. It came soon enough. Facing the silent Founders, I shuddered when the chamber door banged closed.

  "So, Mr. Sunstone, what are we to do with you?" Michael sat back and tapped his finger on the table. "Your actions have put us in a predicament. By refusing to capture Aries, as you were tasked to do, you forced us to take extreme measures, unfortunate ones. This situation has become complicated."

  "How so?" Creed's warmth reminded me of its presence. I almost put my hand on it.

  "Oh, please do," Apopis hissed. "Remove the halberd. At least have the decency to allow us to see the evidence of your crime of conspiring with the runaway."

  They knew about Creed? Of course they did. We were in the chamber and I was thinking about it. Slowly, my hand slipped to my waistband. Without pulling my eyes from the Council members, I pulled the side of my shirt up enough to grab the top knob of the stick.

  Energy, unadulterated and pure, rushed through my hand, up my arm, filling my chest, head. Filling my soul. I feared nothing.

  Snagging Creed, I pulled it free.

  Apopis hissed. Michael rocked in his chair. Seraph bit her lip, and Azazel nodded while stroking his long goatee.

  "Told you," Beelzebub said nonchalantly while refilling his water.

  Michael's eyes narrowed. "So it is true. You hold Creed."

  "Yes," I said. Though I no longer feared the Council, not with this halberd-in-stick form, I had no idea where this conversation was going, and I did not plan on giving up information quickly or easily.

  Michael rubbed a hand over his face as the other Council members shot glances at each other.

  "Put your stick away, boy," Beelzebub said. "You're not impressing anyone. Now that you've seen it, can we sentence him so I can get some sleep? I'm exhausted."

  I tucked Creed away.

  "Yes, yes," Michael said, signaling to the guard standing beside a side door. "Bring her out."

  The guard moved to the door with a snap. In a single, fluid motion, he swung the door open and swiveled to stand at attention on the other side while the demon inside stepped out. My mother. She stood to the side of the room, head cast down. Silent.

  "Per the ruling of the Underworld versus Bartholemew Wisdom, circa 41,867," Michael continued as if something significant was not happening, "we charge you with dereliction of duty. You—"

  "And as a traitor?" Beelzebub questioned from the other side of the room. "We're not letting him get away with that, are we?"

  My mother's head snapped up at the accusation. Her head swiveled between the Council members as they silently pondered.

  Traitor? Me? For what?

  "I'm not a—"

  "Silence!" Apopis jabbed a finger at me.

  "Is this what you want?" Michael directed his question to Beelzebub.

  Beelzebub sat back against the table holding the water jug and glass and crossed his arms. "It's no less than my family deserves for what he did."

  Azazel sighed. "Will you never let this go? You were elected."

  "For this Third Council! What about the Second?" Beelzebub pushed himself off the table without using his hands, making me—awkwardly—wonder if his glutes were as muscular as the rest of him. "And at what cost, Azazel? The time. The expense. The shame my family suffered because he wouldn't endorse my bid for the Third Council? You find that acceptable?" Beelzebub's nostrils flared. "You have no right to pass judgment on me. Charge this impling with treason, Michael, or I'll take justice in my own hands."

  Azazel slammed his mug on the table, about to shout a response, but was cut off by Seraph, who shot to her feet. "You will do no such thing!"

  "I most certainly will," Beelzebub roared.

  Michael slammed the gavel down on the jade table. The wood handle cracked. "Enough!" His word echoed into the corners of the chamber. No one moved. I did not even want to breathe and take the chance of drawing their attention. Drawing a deep breath, Michael said, "What happens to Mr. Sunstone is a Council's decision. We stay unified on this. In light of the history between Beelzebub and Aries over the endorsement issue, and Mr. Sunstone's support of the first of his name, I fear not charging the young demon with treason might set a precedent. Anyone disagree?"

  "No," Apopis answered before my gaze slid to him.

  "You know it's the right thing to do," Beelzebub said.

  "Seraph? Azazel?" Michael prompted.

  My mother fidgeted with her hands as the Council decided my fate. Creed pulsed at my side.

  Seraph looked the incubi in the eyes, one after another. "Where do you stand, Michael?"

  My heart pounded in my chest. Seraph was entertaining the proposition!

  A corner of Michael's mouth pulled up. "You know mine is the deciding vote."

  She shrugged. "I'm asking for your opinion."

  "Well," Azazel interrupted. "I am absolutely against this. Precedent or not."

  "You would be," Beelzebub said with a sniff.

  "The audacity—" Azazel started, but Michael interrupted, assuming control once again.

  "I would like to side with caution and charge him," the Council's leader said.

  Azazel threw his hands up in the air. "Preposterous!"

  For her part, Seraph was much cooler. "Well, that settles it then. That's a majority vote. Nothing I say matters."

  Michael nodded slowly. I sensed all this was highly unconventional for Hell's leaders. "Then it is decided." Michael tapped the broken gavel on the table. "Mr. Sunstone, you are hereby charged, sentenced, and convicted of dereliction of duty and treason."

  My mother made a sound like she was being forced to choke down air.

  "Don't I get a plea or something?" I asked, amazed at how calm I felt.

  "It wouldn't change anything, boy." Beelzebub snarled, his crossed arms making his biceps look larger.

  Azazel sighed. "Sadly, that is true. A majority vote is all it takes, and it appears there is a majority for conviction."

  "There is," said Apopis.

  "Then shall we be fair in his sentencing at least?" Seraph making the request for leniency was encouraging. At least, with her and Azazel, maybe I have a fair shot at not having my entire life ruined. The extent of my knowledge of the penal code was as limited as a demon's chances of getting into Heaven, but I could not imagine that the penalty for treason was anything except for stiff.

  "I was about to get to that, but the Council seems to be too full of opinions to let me explain my rationale," Michael said. "Mr. Sunstone will be convicted, and we'll sentence him now. Beelzebub, you will get your justice."

  The large Founder growled in satisfaction.

  "What about mine? What about justice for Aries?"

  All heads turned in my direction. Even the guard by the door looked at me before snapping his head straight forward again. Beelzebub made for me, but a stiff order from Michael stopped him.

  "No," the leader snapped and quickly composed himself, his voice level once again. "This is how it will be. Now, before this spins out of control again and distracts us from other business, let's announce the sentencing. Mr. Sunstone, you are hereby sentenced to six months of confinement and five years of hard labor."

  My mouth fell open as my hand went to Creed—not that I had any idea what I was going to do with it. My mother put her face in her hands, crying behind her meat-shield. Beelzebub and Apopis smiled at me like I was slathered in barbecue sauce.

  "But," Michael's tone demanded my focus. It was light, too light for my predicament. "You'll serve the sentences in your home."

  "What?" Beelzebub ro
ared.

  "That's scandalous, Michael," Apopis warned.

  "Yet, it's a fair decision that satisfies both sides," he replied. "Maybe not fully, but the matter is resolved and I think most of us will rest well with the decision." His eyes swiveled to Beelzebub. "Once they've slept on it."

  Arms still crossed, Beelzebub grumbled. "Fine."

  "So it is done," Michael blurted, knocking the gavel again. "Sentence to be served immediately. An administrative clerk will be by your house in the morning," he said to my mother. "And with that, our business is—"

  "What about the Cleansing?" Apopis asked. "It's a standard punishment for the treasonous."

  The what?

  Michael's shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. "Fine."

  I raised my hand. "Uh, what's that?"

  Seraph rolled her eyes. "You're to ride to your place of punishment, usually a prison, but your home in this instance, strapped to the back of a donkey."

  "You're kidding?"

  Turns out. They weren't.

  21 - Underworld

  One Week Later

  "You'll be fine, son," my mother said, walking close enough to wrap her hand in mine.

  We had taken a walk—yes, the Administrator approved it—to get me out of the tree house and into the familiar, acrid air of the Underworld.

  "I'm not so sure about that."

  Half a block of quiet passed, normal life happening all around, before my mother touched on the subject I did not want to explore. "You miss him, don't you?"

  Bilba. The most recent name added to the list of demons who had shunned me now that I was a criminal. A life of living as the Segregate wasn't ostracizing enough, apparently, because everyone seemed more than happy to hang the albatross of 'traitor' around my neck. Not once in the past week had my supposedly best friend stopped by to check on me. Beside my parents, only one of which was talking to me, I had no one.

  That was the true punishment meted out by the Council.

  "Yeah," I said, gripping her hand tighter—I guess some never get too old for that. "Mother?"

  "Yes?"

  "How do I fix this?"

  She dipped her head. The front corner of her haircut flopped loose from behind her ear and obscured her face. We walked in silence. I welcomed any answer. What she didn't know, what I couldn't tell her, was her response would go a long way in determining what I did next.