Demon Singer

by Nichols, Benjamin

  Acheron knew exactly how to deal with Fair Folk. Every single one of the horny bastards would give his left arm for a few seconds with a demoness like her. Gracefully Acheron twirled to her feet, exchanging her jeans and T-shirt for the leather ensemble she favored. Swinging her hips and putting on her most dazzling smile, she spoke to the air.

  “I hear the only thing better than a night with a Fair Folk lad is a night with a Fair Folk lass. Why are you hiding from me sweetie? We could be having a good time!”

  A hazy outline formed in front of her and coalesced into a voluptuous fairy woman with a mischievous grin and a body like an amusement park. Two more outlines formed and became well built Fair Folk men. The three of them grinned at the demoness hungrily.

  “The coup de gras is both, my lovely” said one of the men, his clear blue eyes sparkling happily. He stepped forward as though to embrace her. Acheron smiled wickedly and as soon as he was within reach, she wrapped an arm around his neck, spun over his back and twisted his head completely off his shoulders. She landed back on her feet still holding his head in her arm as his body slumped to the ground behind her. The two remaining fairies stared at her in stunned silence. Acheron kissed the dead fairy on the cheek then drop kicked his head into the distance.

  “Let’s not stop now; I’m looking forward to this.” Acheron stepped toward the two Fair Folk who immediately faded from view. A powerful blow hit the side of her head, but she was expecting it. As soon as contact was made, she grabbed the wrist of her attacker and squeezed it until it crunched. A grunt sounded nearby and the demoness spun a kick in its direction. The grunt became a shriek and the second male fairy materialized as her stiletto boot heel found his left eye. He was pulled backward violently and the girl fairy materialized as well, yanking her partner away from Acheron. “You two are screwed, aren’t you?” Acheron sauntered toward them as they continued backing away. “Why are you here?”

  “None of your business, Demoness.” The girl shoved the man behind her. “You’re going to be very sorry you killed Bulerto.”

  “Not likely, you have no magic that can harm me and even when you go invisible I know how to handle you.” She gestured to the man behind the girl holding his eye socket. "You know what I am, but do you know who I am?" The fairy woman met her eyes defiantly.

  "I don't care who you are. Soon enough you'll be dead."

  Acheron's smile widened.

  "I believe your people call me Thosmere Rift."

  The fairy paled at the name.

  "Oh, you've heard of me, good! I haven't visited the Fair Folk Kingdom in..." Acheron made a show of doing some mental arithmetic. "Gosh, it's been more than a hundred years! It's nice to know I'm remembered.” Acheron walked toward the fairy, who to her credit, held her ground. Getting close enough the fairy could feel her breath on her face Acheron spoke softly. “You’re quite lovely, and I don’t care much to destroy lovely things. You may choose to remain stubborn and die horribly or you may choose to tell me what I want to know. Why are you here?”

  “We were ordered to stay and slow down anyone who might come looking for Rondeaux or his new soldier.”

  “Okay, so now where have they gone?”

  “West, toward California.”

  Acheron considered the tracks she saw heading east.

  “Are you willing to stake your friend’s other eye on that information?”

  The fairy swallowed and looked over at her remaining partner who was curled up on the ground, pitifully moaning and holding his destroyed eye socket while his other wrist lay at an unnatural angle. Acheron, to make her point stepped over him and rested one boot heel on his cheek just below his good eye.

  “They went East,” the fairy said hurriedly. “I don’t know where they’re ending up. Rondeaux said we’d find them easily enough if we head East."

  The demoness playfully ground her heel lightly into the male fairies cheek as he froze in terror.

  “Are you sure this time?”

  “Yes, Yes I’m sure. Leave him alone!”

  Acheron stepped away from the damaged fairy and back to the girl.

  “Why is it important to slow me down? He's surrounded by his army, who does he expect to come looking for him?"

  "We don't know," the fairy woman squeaked, trying to force words out past the lump of terror Acheron put in her throat. "Please don't kill us!" The poor fairy was close to hysterical. Acheron smiled and put her arms around the pretty fairy’s waist. Pulling the trembling woman forward she held her close, stroking her silky hair and running her hands down her body, whispering comforting nonsense into her ear and waiting patiently. Fairies were narcissistic nymphos that would jump anyone who made them feel good. Acheron's grin widened as she felt the woman's trembles cease and turn to the beginnings of arousal. The demoness gave the fairy a few more minutes of holding her perfect body. As soon as the fairies arousal turned from hesitant to excited, Acheron's roaming hands found the joints where the woman's gossamer wings grew from her shoulder blades.

  "I'm not going to kill you, beautiful, but you'll wish I had."

  The fairy shrieked in agony as the demoness mercilessly ripped the wings from her body. The pain was too much and the lovely creature passed out. Acheron tossed the wings in the dirt and crouched down next to the male fairy whimpering on the ground.

  “What’s your name, my pretty?”

  “Logi Condeve.”

  "Logi, what happens when a fairy loses its wings?”

  “We become outcasts and can no longer be seen by our own kind. We lose our magic and any possibility of hearing the Song of Creation. Slowly we go mad.”

  “Spread the word, Logi Condeve, Thosmere Rift is alive and well and has declared war against every one of you I come across. You should have turned and ran the moment you knew what I was. The truce I made with your king is over. You and all of your brethren will spend the rest of your lives being very afraid. Tell the story, tell it to everyone, then come back to me.”

  Acheron leaned forward and kissed the fairy’s cheek, her mouth flaring violet flames upon contact and leaving her perfect lips branded on his face. The fairy cried out in pain and the demoness smiled. It was so much simpler to handle things when her Singer wasn’t around to cloud her judgment.

  “You bear my brand, Logi, and belong to me from now on. Go and do as I’ve said.”

  Unable to resist the compulsion of Acheron’s command the fairy forced himself to his feet and started walking toward the Fair Folk Kingdom. Acheron watched him go in satisfaction. It’d been a long time since she’d bothered making a slave; she’d forgotten how much fun it could be. So, East.

  * * *

  Lyric parked his car up the road and approached the Guild on foot. Looking around the city he again marveled at how normal life was outside the walls of the Singer's Guild. An entire population shared living space with the most secret of societies, completely unaware of the constant battles the Soul Singers Guild engaged in to protect them from the forces of evil. The majority of the world’s mysteries could be solved in the fabled secret library of the High Master. Every soul singer knew that you’d never find mention of the Guild in any books, at least not any that could be read by normal people. However, an old and tenacious rumor stated that the Guild's master had a secret library where he chronicled the goings on of the soul singers and their exploits.

  Lyric approached the large, nondescript grey walls that covered an entire city block and housed an elite training school that specialized in producing virtuoso musicians. Its name was the Music School and it was almost as much of a secret as the Guild, though one in plain sight. The Music School didn’t have a school crest, fielded no athletic teams and didn’t compete on any level in any discipline. Yet the truly excellent students of Eastman, U of M, Julliard and the Curtis Institute all learned of the Music School one way or another and vied for acceptance into its fabled halls. The truth was the Music School was an excellent school. Because the instructors were all soul singers
and Masters, none but the truly exceptional could pass the audition process. By the time your studies were finished, not only could you find employment anywhere based purely on the skills and abilities pounded into you, but the average graduate excelled well beyond their peers in whatever field they chose, even if it wasn’t music.

  The Singer watched as people rushed up and down the sidewalk in front of the building, never pausing, never noticing. Never realizing that those who toiled on the other side of the wall defended them repeatedly from death, enslavement and hell on earth. Wondering what he would encounter, Lyric approached the entrance; the setting sun threw his shadow ahead of him onto the gate.

  * * *

  Rondeaux watched as thousands of ships sailed out to sea preparing to approach Markhato from the water. The ocean always called his memories back home.

  He'd had the second sight his entire life, and grew up on the Oregon coast with a reputation for being just a bit crazy. His father, a naturally violent man, had drilled the concepts of honesty and integrity into him from infancy. As far as he knew, his mother didn't exist. Therefore, he became the child with the wild imagination and invisible friends, well beyond the age others left theirs behind.

  Eventually he learned discretion and life leveled out. He joined the military young to escape his tyrannical father and discovered his gift allowed him to see the invisible side of war. Winning engagement after engagement, he shot up through the ranks. Until the day he saw a dragon heading for a small town in enemy territory.

  His unit was supposed to extract enemy soldiers from the town and dispose of them. His superiors didn't care much about collateral damage. Rondeaux knew if he left it alone, the dragon would destroy every man, woman and child, including the enemy soldiers. He could walk away and accept another victory.

  Instead, he led his men straight into the dragon's path and they turned it away. Not because they beat it, but because the deaths of his own men temporarily satisfied its need for bloodshed.

  Rondeaux alone walked back to base. He could have lied and made it out to be an ambush. With tears pouring down his cheeks, the soldier told the truth.

  Starting the day a highly decorated war veteran, Rondeaux finished it disgraced, discharged and declared "mentally ill".

  A beautiful woman met him the next day and took him to meet his goddess. She'd been watching him and now called him to service.

  Shaking his head free of the haze of memories, general Rondeaux watched his army, his army, board ship and prepare for the most important engagement in human history.

  He still rankled at the release of the demon singer, but his goddess had made her wishes clear. He didn't care for subterfuge in battle but understood its necessity. He even left some of his lesser-desired personnel to lead the demon back east if she showed up.

  He was bothered most about Cadence's disappearance. Especially since he learned Giderg had escaped custody and deserted. He found himself hoping the wine was working. He never cared for his ability anyway.

  25 FALLEN

  Lyric’s best friend Philip stood at the inner gate of the giant courtyard that surrounded the Guild. Upon seeing Lyric, he cried out in joy and ran to embrace his friend, ignoring the embarrassed looks of the guards standing at the gate.

  “Lyric! You’re alive! I’d heard you were dead! Thanks be to the Composer!” Philip’s sturdy arms held Lyric at arm's length to look him over, as if to verify it really was his friend. Then he pulled him back into the hug while Lyric tried to breathe.

  “Alive, my friend,” the Singer confirmed, clasping his own arms around his friend. The pinpricks at the back of his eyes turned to shameless tears as he rejoiced in the comfort of being in a place he loved with a friend he could trust.

  Eventually the embrace approached that line shied away from by all men and the two friends released one another to regard each other, grinning like idiots.

  “Why are you pulling guard duty?” Lyric asked, hurriedly wiping away the tears from his cheeks. “Singers in their seventh measure don’t have guard duty.”

  Philip was standing in his characteristic beefy arms crossed over his beefy chest pose and looked down at his own chest. Lyric followed the direction of his gaze and saw the pendant of the Blue Eye hanging where his Singer pendant had been and gasped.

  “Philip, you’re a Discerner! I don’t know how I should feel. Is this a happy development or a disappointment?”

  “Absolutely thrilled, Lyric. I am pleased to be of service to the Voice in protection of those who protect the Score of Creation.”

  “So you didn’t tie?”

  Philip’s eyes lost a bit of their glow.

  “No. I sang strong and believe I could have, but after losing you…”

  “You pulled back.” Lyric finished. His friend was an excellent Singer and more than capable of tying to a Verger. After losing his sister to a demon a few years ago, and then apparently losing his best friend to another demon, he could see why Philip would shy away from the tie. Though no one had ever tied a demon before, the precedent had now been set and Lyric knew there was nothing on earth that could convince Philip that was a risk worth taking, no matter how small. “I’m sorry my friend.”

  Philip’s smile returned.

  “Don’t be. My discernment scores have gone through the roof since the casting. Chab thinks it’s because I’m no longer double-minded and now I can concentrate on being useful.”

  "Of course he does." Chab was a notorious elitist in the Guild. He was constantly exhorting singers to be open to other forms of service. "Listen, Philip, I need to talk to the High Master as quickly as possible. Is he in the Guild today?"

  "I think so. Even if he isn't he'll be back soon. I can't wait to tell everyone you're free of the demon."

  "Demoness," Lyric corrected. Putting his hands on his friend's shoulders, he stopped him and turned to face him. "Philip, I'm not free of her. We're still tied.

  The smile froze on Philip's face.

  "What? It's not here though. Where is it?" Philip began looking around in a panic. "Why did you come back if you're still tied to that thing, Lyric?!" Philip the Discerner rounded on his long time friend, all traces of the joy at their reunion had fled from his demeanor. Lyric was taken aback at the abrupt and drastic change. "What gives you the right to put this Guild in danger? Where is the demon?"

  "She's not here, I have her searching for a friend of mine. I'm sorry, Philip, I haven't managed to break the tie yet. I'm here to get information to the Guild Master concerning Melody and the war as well as deliver this letter to him."

  "You have her search..." Philip sputtered in outrage. "Of all the tone deaf... You treat it as if... What's in the letter?" He finally managed.

  "I'm sorry my friend, this envelope can only be opened safely by the High Master himself. It really is imperative I see him right away."

  "How did you come by this information, Lyric?" Philip's eyes accusatory. "A gift from your new friend? Or the one you haven't 'managed' to break free of? Or is it that you haven't tried?"

  Lyric stared at his friend in stunned disbelief.

  "Philip, you can't mean that. You know better than anyone how I feel about Hellions."

  "Hellions?!" Philip's face reddened. "Don't you mean demons, Lyric?" He shouted in Lyric's face, his rage radiating like heat. "Gone for months, no word from you, rumors you had died a hundred different ways! Now here you are, none the worse for wear calling demons by their own titles for themselves, sending one on an errand for you and claiming knowledge for the High Master you're arrogant enough to think he doesn't already have! What should I think, Demon Singer?"

  Lyric didn't remember striking his friend, but there was the proof. Philip was ten yards away, lying on the ground with an amazing goose egg already decorating his jaw. Suddenly rough hands grasped his arms and forced them behind his back. He didn't resist as he worriedly watched his friend stand up, praying to the Voice he was okay.

  "Hold him," Philip said coldly. S
tepping forward he looked Lyric in the eye. "I should not have called you that. I apologize and ask your forgiveness..."

  "Granted." Lyric said immediately. Philip nodded and continued.

  "I retract nothing else. This is how it appears to me. And for me appearances are important." He tapped his pendant.

  "Do it!" Lyric said. "Use your song and discern my nature and intent. See for yourself."

  "I pray I find what I hope and not what I fear."

  Philip's smooth baritone began the discernment song. Lyric felt an odd twinge in his tie, a feeling of warning filled him. Something was wrong. He'd been sincere in his suggestion, certain Philip would find him the same friend he'd known for the last seven years. All at once he wasn't so sure. Anxiety began to eat at him as he remembered what he'd seen of himself in Rondeaux's valley. The black half that caused him so much concern and the General so little. He wondered what the song would reveal. He kept still and watched his friend. Philip was well into the song and his eyes had that glassy faraway look that belongs to those who see things you can't. Lyric used to make fun of Philip when they were learning the song together because whenever he sang it, his eyes had a tendency to be attracted to one another. Lyric saw this was no longer the case. He studied his friend and tried to place what had changed about him besides the obvious.