by Paul Sating
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From Book 2 of the Zodiac Series
"The Horn of Taurus"
(Available August 2020. Pre-order available now.)
Chapter 1
1 - Underworld, Fifth Circle
Six Months After Aries
You'd think being part of the plan to bring an ancient demon back from the Overworld would earn you some favors. Apparently that isn't the case.
Not for me, at least.
Of course, I'm not one to catch breaks in life, am I? As the Segregate, the only demon in the history of the Underworld—I prefer to call it Hell—to not possess a single flicker of magic, I was set up from the beginning for massive underachievement, crappy luck, and uphill fights.
One of the few positives that outweighs my short stature and negative label is the fact that, at least in some circles, I'm supposedly a celebrity. Who knew the Segregate could be one, right? But that happened after I returned from my mission in the Overworld and the subsequent at-home prison sentence I served.
The rumor was that secreted meetings were held in pubs, where groups whispered adulations about me standing up to the Council. Supposedly, a few demons were pissed. Invisible though they were, I guess I had fans in the dark corners of the Underworld, even a few succubi who wanted merlin falcons to carry notes requesting clandestine meetings—I refused those, as difficult as it was. Plus, me and succubi speak different languages. Even if the trained messengers brought these supposed notes, the need to avoid further punishment would have outweighed the very demanding urge to see what these unknown succubi had in mind.
If I was a rebel hero to some, I definitely was further outcast by the rest of the Fifth. Having been one of the three demons from our sector of the Fifth Circle to have gone to the Overworld, along with my best—only—friend Bilba and an asshole named Ralrek, I expected more from my neighbors.
Bilba told me demons still made a big deal about me when they we were out at the bar, but none besides him came to visit. I guess I'm not so fascinating.
Not that I wanted to be. I didn't want Lucifer's Third Council to yank me away from my life and send me to the Overworld to bring back Aries the First. I didn't want to see the mortal realm, yet I did. Invading Aries's home and disrupting his life of service to underprivileged humans wasn't on the agenda either. And I definitely never thought I would see the day I refused an order by Beelzebub, the Prince of Demons, and a member of Lucifer's Third Council. But that day came—with a side order of shame.
News of Aries's demise reached home, spreading throughout the Circles before we stepped through the rift between the worlds. The Underworld made my two partners instant heroes, and what did I get? I was humiliated for going against the Council's demands by being paraded home strapped to the back of a donkey. The five years of hard labor was for their entertainment, I swear.
"You're getting lazy, Zeke," Bilba said between pants. Even across the small clearing in the local garden named Eve's Sanctuary, his pink cheeks betrayed the mental exertion of conjuring.
He scratched one with his hand, his black fingernails leaving three distinct lines as evidence of their assault. I wondered at what age a demon would stop painting his nails black in an effort to look cool or rebellious, neither of which Bilba was. But it was his thing and if it made him happy, more power to him. We all have our things, don't we, and his is harmless. As harmless as I was making him look now.
I blinked to clear my head. "Yeah, uh, sorry. Got stuff on my mind."
"Like what?"
I took a step back and my focus increased. He should have never pulled me away from my thoughts if he wanted to win this sparring session. Holding Creed, my halberd, in front of me, I rotated it.
"Oh, man," Bilba groaned. "Be careful. Remember last time?"
In fact, I did. I remembered most of our sparring sessions because opponents routinely took advantage of my lack of magical Abilities to kick my ass. But that changed after we came home. My memory of the kind-hearted demon named Aries wasn't the only thing I took away from the Overworld. I now carried the most awesome halberd in creation and, supposedly, the most powerful weapon in Hell, gifted to me by the very demon the Council had killed.
To this day, I still have no clear idea why he gave it to me, but one thing I and all my sparring partners knew was that the weapon was true to Aries's claim. Like, scary effective. Creed was feared, making me ten times the fighter I was.
That's why Bilba backed up. He trusted me with it less than I trusted myself.
"I'm not going to hurt you." I made a promise I wasn't sure I could keep. "Plus, it's about time I got to practice too. For some reason, I never enjoyed you kicking my ass for the past few thousand years. Control feels good."
"Control," Bilba huffed. "Tell my elbow that. It was wrapped in an ice pack for a week! Do you know how expense it is to treat an injury with ice?"
"You'll be fine," I smiled, taking a step closer, spinning the halberd end over end, easily rotating it between my hands. I'd been practicing this specific move for the past few weeks, but it was the first time I showed it off to Bilba.
His Deception magic was strong, the reason he'd been assigned to accompany me to the Overworld on our wayward Aries adventure. Though we were best friends, Bilba did not spare my feelings when it came to sparring. In fact, I'm convinced he enjoyed the times his stupid boa constrictors caught me and squeezed the air from my lungs, or the times he practiced making lassos, tripping me whenever he could. Bloodying my nose with a wall he formed was a recent go-to spell. One specific session, when we had too much testosterone flowing, I pissed him off. He reciprocated by breaking one of my fingers by conjuring a skull-sized ball and dropping it on my hand. That's the only time I remember Mother being upset with him.
Basically, Bilba had a ton of payback coming his way and, armed with this ancient weapon, I was cashing in. Fivers—residents of the Fifth Circle—had been walking on me, looking down their noses at me, for far too long. Far be it for me to hurt him—I didn't—but making someone else feel defeat was satisfying, though I would never push him toward shame like I had been my entire life.
My lips curled in a snarl as I pushed forward, the undesired moniker grating, intensified by surging brain chemicals. I felt the sticky sensation of Bilba's next spell coating my skin, I stayed on the balls of my feet in case I needed to dodge if I did not make it to him in time. He knew I could sense spells, so he constructed the spell as quickly as he could. That should have worked to my advantage, but there was too much space between us, putting me at the disadvantage.
The arrows popped into existence as he conjured, first one at a time and then, as he gained momentum, by the pairs.
Deception magic is tough to predict. If he'd been a Construction user, I could have guessed at his next move because he would have had to use the natural materials around us. But Deception users can weave any temporary weapon their hearts desired and their skills matched. We were only young adults, so his spells left a lot to be desired, especially after seeing what Beelzebub and Aries were capable of, but Bilba's thousands of years of practice still made him a formidable foe.
The arrows zipped across the clearing at speedy intervals. I introduced them to a spinning Creed. They became slivers as my halberd spun, deflecting some, slicing most. The blue, double-headed ax end sliced through Bilba's arrows as the bottom-end blade rotated up, carving more as they fell—just to add insult to injury.
Too bad for Bilba, who was breathing heavily now.
"Is th
at the best you've got?"
While I set the wavy dagger bladed end of Creed into the soft ground, my hands felt covered in a goo, like sweat that layered on itself. My friend still had fight in him. I moved away from Creed, ready to test my power to call the weapon. Only days after Aries gifted the halberd did I learn the expensive lesson that it did not like being left behind. I was mowing the lawn and had left it on the doorstep. When I rounded the corner of the tree to mow the side yard, I got a nasty surprise when the weapon flew toward me. I had only turned because I thought I recognized a smoking hot succubus across the street. Had I not, Creed would have smashed into my back. As it was, I let go of the mower bar—a bad story in itself—and raised my hands to block my face. The weapon hit me so hard it knocked my hands back into my forehead, bloodying my nose. The unknown succubus laughed at me before disappearing around the street corner.
Admittedly, I tested it one more time and got the same reaction. I even tried to dodge the speeding halberd at the last second and that did not work either. I had a welt on my forehead for three days. Call me a slow learner, but after that I only started testing how far I could move away before Creed reconnected with me—the furthest was twenty feet, for those of you keeping score at home.
That's when I started testing if I could call it to me. Much to my surprise—after more practice than should have been necessary if I had other things to do with my prison time—Creed began responding. The tests started at short distances, but over the past few months my skill improved and I could move farther away and still have it come at my call. Now, my best friend was going to find out about my secret skill.
Bilba conjured a pile of small rocks, each small enough that three could fit into my palm. Thirty of them hovered to both sides of my best friend and I realized I might be in trouble. I really needed to stop antagonizing a demon with developing Abilities.
I extended my arm, calling to Creed. Wiggling free on its own, the halberd jumped out of the dirt and hopped into my hand just as Bilba's face changed to a satisfied grin. With a thrust of his arm, Bilba sent the rocks flying in my direction. I held the weapon horizontally at chest level and batted away each stone. I don't consider myself a badass, there were a few close calls, but not a rock touched me. In fact, as the last two came within striking distance, I swatted them back in Bilba's direction. Watching him tumble behind a boulder to avoid being struck by his own spell was the definition of hilarious.
I sprung across the divide separating us and was on top of him before he could roll over, pinning him to the ground by pushing Creed against the blubber of the back of his neck.
"Yield! Yield!" He whined and winced underneath me.
"Are you sure? I haven't even broken a sweat yet."
He struggled to break free, so I pushed down, reminding him I hadn't agreed to his yielding. Previously, best friend or not, he tricked me into letting him up, only for him to restart an attack. I would not fall for that again. Acquiescing, he lay limp, drawing the breath of defeat.
"You've become almost as much of an asshole as you claim Ralrek is ever since you got that blessed thing."
"That's because Ralrek is an asshole," I said with a smile he could not see, removing Creed and standing. It was awkward straddling my best friend's ass in the middle of the local garden. If someone had come upon us at that moment, we would have had explaining to do. Best to accept his defeat and keep my winning streak going.
Bilba rolled over, drawing deep breaths, two hands pressed against his chest. "He can be, but you are too. When did you see him last?"
Continuing a discussion about Ralrek, a demon I had managed to avoid for half a year, made my good mood slip. "Not since that shit went down with the Council."
Even now, a dose of regret mixed with a bucket load of shame still tugged at me every time I thought about what happened. I didn't need reminders, and mentioning Ralrek's name was exactly that.
"Well, trust me, he hasn't changed. I can't say the same for you."
I eyed Bilba warily. "I hope that's a good thing?"
He grunted as he stood and began collecting items left off to the side, where we had relaxed and caught up before the sparring session. He threw his jacket over his shoulder and tucked his book under his arm. When he turned to face me, I could see there was a comment at his lips.
His chest rose with a deep-drawn breath. "Did you ever think you don't do yourself any favors?"
"What do you mean?"
He gestured with his one free hand. "Look at our sparring sessions. Ever since you got that halberd, you've been different."
"What? Because you can't hand me my ass any longer?"
Bilba dipped his head in ambiguity. "That's not what I'm talking about. You just … carry yourself differently. It's like … you just aren't the same Zeke."
I sank the double-ax head in Bilba's direction. He stepped back, even though twenty feet separated us.
I smiled. "If you were in my shoes you'd see this hasn't been easy. My change, would be easier to understand if you spent your entire life not fitting in, ostracized, and then getting your ass kicked by any imp who wanted to screw with you. If I'm being honest, you've always been rough with me in our sessions. That stuff builds up. Add in the mix of embarrassed parents. Remember, I didn't want to go to the Overworld. I wasn't the one who helped Beelzebub kill Aries." Bilba winced at that. Good. "And I don't even know why the heaven he gave me Creed or what I'm supposed to do with it. I'm still trying to figure out why he said 'it has to be' me. But I'll tell you what …"
I bent down and picked up a rock Bilba had thrust my way. I tossed it in the air, swinging the dagger end of Creed in a sharp arc, striking the rock and sending it flying over the treetops. We watched it disappear before I returned my focus to him.
"I don't trust the Council as far as I can fight them. Aries did nothing wrong, and Beelzebub killed him. The Council, much to their discredit, did nothing. They punished me because I refused to help kill one of the Founders, and I've been blacklisted since. I can't get a blessed job to save my soul."
Bilba shook his head and walked past. "I'm not having this discussion again. It's all we've talked about since you were allowed visitors and these special passes."
"What discussion?"
He spun, his pink cheeks deepening. "About Aries, Zeke! He's dead. You can't fix or change it. The Council had their reasons. Me. You. No one on the Fifth Circle can know why they do what they do. It's shit, Zeke, it really is shit. It might not seem right to us, but you can't keep wasting time trying to figure them out. For Lucifer's sake, it's been a half year now." He huffed. "You will never understand their motivations. None of us can. So stop trying to make me feel like shit over what went down. You're not the only one who has regrets about that day."
He stomped away toward the gateway leading to the common level of the Fifth Circle.
"Come on, don't be like that," I called, maybe because I was lonely, had been lonely, and did not want to be alone again so soon.
Without turning around, he thrust his free hand in the air, middle finger extended, something we picked up from a human child back in Seattle. Give the mortals credit, they can effectively communicate when they need to.
I jerked Creed, the silent command to deactivate the magical halberd. It collapsed into stick form, a foot of petrified dark cherry, even before Bilba walked through the gateway, leaving me standing alone in the Eve's Sanctuary with my stupid thoughts and a healthy dose of remorse.