by Vox Day
—Amos 5:12-13
Prince Bloodwinter’s court was held, unsurprisingly, at the locus of three major lines of power. The building was a towering mass of white marble that was planted atop a hill like a monumental tomb. Occult symbols were engraved in many places, and Melusine noted approvingly that it had obviously been constructed by masons adept in the dark art of mystic magnification. There was even a pagan statue of a gilded Apollyon driving his four apocalyptic steeds mounted at the base of the grand cupola which was such an blatant symbol of Sathanic authority that Melusine was shocked at its boldness.
The great building radiated a strong sense of dominion and power, and it was not hard to see where all of this awesome power had been derived. Most of the surrounding city was lifeless and dead, its inherent vitality drained to the dregs by the Prince, and even the great river which flowed past the city only a few miles away seemed to lose a small part of its mighty vigor simply due to its neighboring proximity.
The guards at the entrance were unlovely, grim-faced spirits of warding. They were giant, muscular figures with dead eyes, ashy grey skin marked with sigilistic patterns, and they wore crimson cloaks which obscured the fact that they had no wings. As Melusine approached, followed by Bogharael and the messenger imp, two of them stepped forward, and short blades of black fire appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in their hands.
“What is your business here, temptress?” the one on her right asked.
Melusine indicated the imp.
“It is my fortune to have been summoned by the Prince of the Cities.”
The spirit to her left reached past her, and sank his fingers into the messenger imp’s temple. His lifeless eyes did not even blink as the imp let out an agonized screech. A moment later, he released the imp, who collapsed sobbing on the ground, ignored by everyone.
“She speaks the truth.” The guard bowed to her, very slightly, and moved aside. “You may enter,” he told her. “And the other with you.”
Melusine was glad to put the cruel red-cloaked ones behind her as she passed through the great wooden doors that opened directly into the great hall. Bloodwinter’s court, like his guards, was dark and dreary, built on an intimidating scale that made the observer feel small, and Melusine wondered if this was a reflection of the harsh and seemingly unending winters here in this northern land, or if it was simply a consequence of the Prince’s dour personality. Most likely, a bit of both, she figured.
The hall was not crowded; there were at most thirty or forty spirits present, including one who wore a white cloak rimmed with gold, and a circlet of purple flames which indicated his status as the Prince of the Cities. Prince Bloodwinter, if it indeed was him, was speaking quietly with a small group of archdemons at the far end of the hall. I’ve seen him before, Melusine realized to her surprise, as she recognized his tall, regal form. He was at the Lewis house last winter! But what was he doing there?
As she drew closer, she saw that one of the archdemons involved in the conversation, which wasn’t actually all that quiet, but turned out to be more of an intense argument, wasn’t even an archdemon. It was Kaym, in his guise as Balazel, and he was occupied with defending himself against the angry accusations of the others.
“No, Vulkan, I’m not going to create any new problems for you. No, it won’t make the Divine target this city. Don’t you remember that Crusade you were so worked up about? What was it, three years ago?”
“Four,” the archdemon snapped back. “Stop trying to change the point, Balazel. You came into this city without permission, killed three of the Enemy’s preachers, openly attacked one of their churches, and now you’re telling us to sit back and let you try to massacre an entire school? Your Highness, how can you even listen to this lunatic? The Enemy will drop ten legions on our heads if you allow him to go on like this!”
Kaym-Balazel shrugged. “Ten legions, what is that? There were fifty thousand Divine on a Heavenly rampage here during that Crusade a few years back, and what did they steal, something like thirty thousand souls? And can you even detect any signs of that today, only four years later? No, I didn’t think so. So there you go, what is there to fear?”
The dark-faced archdemon folded his arms, refusing to concede the point despite Kaym’s reasoning, but Prince Bloodwinter raised his hand, cutting off any objections. He nodded to Melusine, and although his cold, hawk-like eyes betrayed no signs of friendliness, his voice was smoothly courteous as he drew the others’ attention towards her.
“Since this difference of opinion will most likely last until our friends with the notorious equestrian enthusiasm mount their steeds and usher in the unveiled reign of our Great Prince, I see no reason to continue the discussion. Ar-Balazel, I believe this is the temptress whose presence you requested?”
The Prince’s frosty politeness did not put Melusine at her ease. He hid it well, but underneath that icy demeanor was a volcanic temper just waiting to explode. Kaym, what are you doing to me, you arrogant charlatan?
She eyed him, hoping for a hint, but he gave her no clues.
“I am here, Great Lords, as you have commanded.”
“As the Prince of these Cities has commanded,” Kaym corrected her. “I have no authority here, it was merely my suggestion that you should join us, a suggestion which the Prince kindly accepted in his wisdom.”
Melusine kept a straight face, but it was hard. When did Kaym become a world-class brown-noser? No, he wasn’t sucking up after all, Melusine decided, he was allowing Prince Bloodwinter to save face before his court. Bloodwinter must already know that it was Kaym, but he could not dare to let every ambitious archdemon in the Cities know that he wasn’t calling the shots in his own town.
The Prince didn’t respond, except to nod slightly, and his face did not change expression. No doubt he was throwing up inside too.
“Melusine,” Kaym addressed her. “You alone have been permitted to know I am not the archdemon Balazel. I ask you now to reveal my true identity, that these loyal servants of the Great Prince we all serve may know me as I am.”
He was laying it on pretty heavily, Melusine thought, but she obediently reached out with her mind and stripped the obscuring image of the large, ugly archdemon away from Kaym’s slim and handsome figure. More than one monstrous jaw dropped open with dismay and surprise as the gathered archdemons took in the fallen angel’s haughty blue eyes, his silver robes, and above all, his starry cape which, impossibly, seemed to contain within its dark folds all the vast depth of the night sky. Although the Fallen warriors towered over him, he radiated so much power that he stood out like a god among men, or, perhaps more accurately, a hero amidst monsters. He stood there calmly, unafraid and overtly aware of his mastery.
Vulkan was the first to acknowledge Kaym, and the other demons were quick to follow. Prince Bloodwinter, understandably, was the last. The Prince of the Cities was reluctantly beginning to kneel before the revealed demonlord when Melusine heard Bogharael speaking unexpectedly.
“I know you!” he hissed. “I remember you!”
Melusine turned around, alarmed by the hate-filled tone in her protégé’s voice. The apprentice tempter’s green eyes were blazing with anger, and glowed with an intensity that took her by surprise. Bogharael’s malevolent stare was directly at Kaym, and Melusine felt her stomach turning over when she saw that the former dryad’s incautious words had arrested the fallen angel’s attention.
“You remember me?” Kaym smiled contemptuously, and then, as he looked closer, he raised his haughty eyebrows, not in disdain, but in surprise. “Don’t tell me….”
Melusine stuck out her arm as Bogharael moved forward, but the demon shoved her aside roughly and pushed past her to confront Kaym, face to face.
“How long has it been?” he imperiously demanded of the fallen angel. “Tell me how long it has been? I remember nothing since you sent me on that fool’s mission, you lying, back-stabbing traitor!”
Vulkan reacted before Kaym could respond, grabbing
Bogharael’s throat in one great, black-nailed hand and effortlessly lifting him off his feet. Melusine winced as her protégé scrabbled frantically at the archdemon’s scaled fist, but Vulkan’s powerful grip was unbreakable, much stronger than iron. What was the matter with Boggie? He couldn’t hope to stand up to an archdemon, much less a Great Lord like Kaym!
“Respect!” Vulkan roared, his yellowed teeth only inches from Bogharael’s bulging eyes. “You will fear your masters!”
“My, my,” Melusine heard the Prince comment idly to no one in particular. “When did he become such a stickler for propriety?”
“Put him down, Vulkan.” Kaym’s smile was even broader now. “No, I mean it, put him down!”
The big archdemon was reluctant to obey the fallen angel’s order, but after one last, vicious squeeze of his hand that almost caused Bogharael’s eyes to pop out of his head, he released his victim. Bogharael immediately dropped to the marble floor, and only an outstretched hand kept him from sprawling completely flat on the floor.
“Where did you pick up this one,” Kaym said, and Melusine started when she realized he was talking to her.
“This? Oh, well, he was a petty spirit of the woods, he possessed a tree not far from where my mortal charge lives. I needed help with the other mortals after you… after Pandaema was destroyed, and Dandaela was worse than useless. He seemed promising, and so I allowed him to take Dandaela’s place.”
“Possessed a tree?” Kaym was staring at Bogharael, looking vastly amused despite the other’s furious glare. “That is about all you are suited to rule, you know.”
Prince Bloodwinter raised his hand. He seemed to know that there was something going on here about which he knew nothing, and he obviously wanted to change the situation to one that was under his control.
“Under whose authority did you replace this Dandaela, Melusine. Why was I not informed?”
Melusine might have laughed had she not been surrounded by powerful spirits on every side of her, any of whom could easily blast her beyond the Beyond with the merest word or gesture. Not informed? In fifty years as a temptress in these cities, she’d never once so much as spoken to their Prince. She tried to imagine his reaction if she’d come to him with tales of her fellow temptresses malfeasance—he’d probably have blasted her simply for trying to waste his time.
“She did it under my authority,” Kaym lied, obviously uninterested in the minor politics. “But, my dear Prince, perhaps it might interest you to know that this disrespectful little tree demon was once known as the Lord of the Sword.”
Kaym smiled cruelly and nodded to Bogharael.
“Did you enjoy the last six millennia, old friend? That’s how long it has been, in answer to your question. Quite a few things have changed, naturally, but our great crusade continues. Some would even have it that we are winning, but then again, that is a thought which has been wrongly thought before.”
Melusine stared at her protégé, who had eyes only for Kaym. Now it made sense, both his dawning arrogance and his strange, instinctual hatred for Kaym. Her little Boggie was truly Jehuel, the princely angel who had once been Prince Lucere’s viceroy and Leviathan’s keeper. She shivered, remembering how strong Jehuel had been that day, effortlessly hurling her across that vast, fiery chamber during his desperate struggle with Phaoton fought leagues below the surface of Rahab, that accursed, shattered planet. And to think that he had shrunk so, that whatever lay Beyond had reduced him to the puny state in which she’d first encountered him, without memory and almost without mind!
“Give me my power back, and meet me in the Circle,” Bogharael’s voice was low, and his emerald eyes never left Kaym’s as he pleaded for an opportunity to seek his vengeance. “Would you deny me the chance to repay you this debt?”
“How the mighty have fallen,” Kaym sighed theatrically. “Of course I will, and I’ll deny you more than that if you happen to stick your leafy head anywhere it doesn’t belong over the next several days. Unless you want to return to the dark fire of Sinyata, obey your mistress and stay out of my way.”
The fallen angel’s tone was cold and inflexible, so that even Bogharael recognized the futility of protest. He bowed, meekly enough, and retreated, although Melusine saw that his shoulders were still shaking with repressed rage.
Kaym nodded, apparently satisfied that his old enemy had backed down. Melusine watched as he spread his hands and turned to address Prince Bloodwinter and the archdemons, most of whom had backed well away from him. They had not achieved their positions of power by carelessly rushing into dangerous situations, and the appearance here of a Great Lord of the Fallen, combined with the return of a legendary name from the Beyond, promised nothing but peril. The Lord of the Sword! What could his presence, even in this much-reduced form, possibly mean? Was he an omen of good fortune, or was he an untimely reminder of how their triumphs were so often rendered empty by the Enemy?
The shattered gates of Heaven turned into impenetrable opalescent walls. The criminal’s grave transformed into the empty tomb. The weapon treacherously turning on its wielder. Melusine shook her head. There had been so many disappointments. But then, she reminded herself, there had been successes too. Surely in this particular instant, events had progressed too far to be stopped. The chosen ones were prepared and ready, and the ravenous spirits were in their place, awaiting only the proper time.
“So, my Lords, Prince Bloodwinter,” Kaym addressed the spirits of the court. “I stand revealed before you, a Knight of the Golden Sefiroth and the Master of the Star Wheel. Is there any who wish to dispute my right to take the actions I have taken? If so, I ask you to speak now.”
He glanced significantly at Bogharael. The wretched spirit was compelling testimony, and the sight of what had befallen this former member of the Sarim intimidated the great demons of the court into silence; it was obvious that not a single one would dare to openly disagree.
Prince Bloodwinter readjusted his flaming coronet, as if to remind himself that he still ruled in this place, and raised his hand as if to convey a blessing on Kaym. Melusine had no doubt that the proud prince would far rather be laying a curse on the noble fallen angel, but he nevertheless managed to feign a convincing air of dignity as he declaimed before his court.
“Go then, Lord Chemosh, with the full approval of this assembly, in the company of angels and archangels, to serve our great cause and our Great Prince.”
“Hail, Chemosh,” the assembled spirits cried, some with appreciably less enthusiasm than others.
Kaym pretended not to notice, though, and with an elegant flourish of his starry cape, he made a stately exit. Melusine was quick to follow him, although Bogharael was slow to react, and was forced to grab his arm and drag him along with her. But she could feel that his feeble spirit was still engorged with malice, and as she hurried him quickly through the large wooden doors and out into the night, Melusine had the uneasy feeling that another fiasco might be looming upon them.
Jami sat on her bed, dubiously eyeing the prom dress that was hanging down over the front of her closet door. She had been ecstatic when Mom agreed to buy it for her last week, but now, looking at it under the unflattering lights of her bedroom only one night before she was to wear it, she wondered if maybe she’d made the wrong choice after all. There were so many dresses out there, how in the world did anyone possibly expect you to pick the right one?
Hers was a colorful dress, mostly pale pink, but shot through with various blue and yellow pastels. It was one hundred percent silk, and it felt so very wonderful next to her skin, almost as if she was wearing nothing at all. The silk was so delicate that it was almost translucent, and Holli had warned her, once safely out of range of Mom’s hearing, of course, that she’d have to be careful about standing where she’d be backlit. Then again, that was part of the appeal, of course, and she smiled mischievously as she thought about the look on Jason’s face when he saw her in this dress. And if he really behaved himself, he might just catch a gli
mpse of her accidentally standing in front of a spotlight.
Her dress was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Considering what it had cost, it had better be. But it wasn’t really a prom dress, at least, it wasn’t what Jami had always pictured when she’d thought about the prom when she was younger. For her, the whole idea had always conjured up images of big poofy dresses, with bows and chiffon and all those silly things, crinkly satin dresses with crisp folds that hinted at magical things from the past like cotillions and handsome Southern men with slicked-back hair and cigarette lighters.
Of course, she lived in Minnesota, the guys wore their hair too short to slick it back, smoking was bad for you, and she wasn’t exactly sure what a cotillion was. Some kind of ball, she supposed. The thing was, her dress, for all that it was pretty and sexy and cool, lacked magic. That was what was wrong with it.
Her door opened, and Holli stuck her head inside.
“What’s wrong?” her twin asked, closing the door behind her. “Thinking about Jason?”
“No, it’s my dress.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Holli looked genuinely surprised. She’d been delighted when Jami had decided upon the pink silk. “You don’t like it now?”
“It has no magic,” Jami said sadly. “It’s nice, but it’s just a dress.”
Holli nodded sympathetically. She understood, of course, although her dress was even simpler than Jami’s, just a plain red spaghetti-strap gown with clean lines and an understated elegance.
“Sometimes, growing up sucks,” she said with a shrug. “It would be fun to go there wearing one of those gorgeous old-fashioned Gone With The Wind-style dresses, but then everyone would think you were some kind of fashion victim and they’d never let you hear the end of it.”
“Or your grandmother dressed you,” Jami agreed wryly. “I guess it just seems like we always do things because we have to, not because we want to, you know what I mean?”