“'There's a horrible demon in the cabana; he's the evilest thing in Havana," Lucien mumbled to himself. It didn't quite seem to scan.
Lalael continued chivying the mother out of the room. “Your daughter will be fine, just think of it like an extermination, except without the poison –”
“'His name was 'Lael; he was an angel...'” That worked rather well, actually.
“What?!” the woman gasped as Lalael shoved her out, dragged Lucien into the room and shut the door in one smooth movement.
“So what is this?” Lucien stuck his hands in his pockets and surveyed the scene.
“Listen –”
“No, just tell me.”
“It's none of your business, for one thing!” Lalael snapped.
“I think you should tell me anyway,” Lucien said, picking up a small plastic figurine from the vanity and tilting it about in vague curiosity.
“Put that down. Where have you been all day?”
“I would say something along the lines of 'I could ask you the same question', if I didn't already know that you'd been in this room all day, doing who knows what. I was in the library down the street.”
“What for?”
“Just like I said, looking for a way to send you back. Since you want to go."
Lalael's scowl wavered. “Sorry.” He moved to the window, and Lucien noted that they'd have to be careful to stay out of certain lights now, because you could tell Lalael's true nature when the moonlight fell on him like that. It glanced off his skin like it was marble – no, not lit: The angel seemed to shine with his own inner light, a bright star in the shadows of the window: Unnatural, untouchable, and clearly, eerily non-human.
“You should be sorry,” Lucien answered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “I saved your life, after all.”
Lalael winced.
Suddenly the girl gave a shriek and thrashed once more. Lalael was at her side in an instant, into the circle of candlelight cast from the night table. From moonlight to firelight, in one moment distant ivory, shades of blue on white and black, cold and still as a statue as he looked off into the dark; the next moment he was golden, with the fire reflecting strangely in his eyes, and is hair was a fiery red by this light, threaded by pure, shining gold – two more tells. Humans were so very unobservant.
“Why don't you want me to go back there?” Lalael asked. The girl sobbed beneath his hands as he tended her. He didn't meet Lucien's eyes.
Lucien shrugged in reply. “I'm staying here. You're the only other immortal. It'll be lonely after a while.” Even a mortal enemy was better than no one at all. “It's been lonely anyway. You don't really have amicable relationships in the Lower Realm.”
“I didn't have any in Ríel either," Lalael mumbled, and his hands shook as he held the little girl's – or perhaps it was she that was trembling.
Lucien was quiet. He kept his arms crossed. “I'm not going to kill you," he said after a few long moments. He was surprised by how weary he sounded. "I'm not going to try to hurt you, or make you trust me and then cast you out. It wouldn't be right."
Lalael was silent. The only sound in the room was the little girl's choking sobs, and then Lalael nodded – just once, but it was enough.
"A truce then?” Lucien asked as Lalael hushed the girl and bathed her forehead with the cloth.
Lalael paused again. “I guess.”
Lucien nodded. “Good. From now on, I'll trust you not to try to murder me in my sleep. Again.”
Lalael looked away, chagrined. “I was scared.”
“Never mind that now. Doesn't matter. I'm not dead,” Lucien said as the little girl cried out again. “Now, what's all this? Obviously she's possessed, but your set-up here looks like a hodge podge of the most inconsistent witchcraft I've ever seen. Do you have any training in rites?” He didn't notice Lalael's surprise.
“No. I... made it up.”
“And you're trying to get whatever is in her out of her.” Said child arched off the bed, choking and hissing. “Lalael?”
The angel laughed nervously in reply as he tried to hold the girl down to keep her from hurting herself. “I've been working all day.”
Lucien squinted at her, then blinked several times. “That's a soul-eater in her!” One of the girl's arms, seemingly of its own accord, flailed to strike the angel as he held down the other; Lucien had it pinned down in a moment.
“A what?” Lalael asked breathlessly, struggling to hold on.
“Soul-eater! They're vermin and rodents of Rielat – ninth caste, the lowest you can get – they get into the storage buildings a lot. It's a problem, but that's how they got the name.” Lucien made a face. “Horrid, isn't it? Why are you trying so hard to get it out?”
“Because it's hurting her! You think we should just leave her here to get eaten?" he demanded. “I saw the house in my dream,” he continued. “And then this girl lying sick in bed, and her mother. That was the nightmare.”
“Wasn't a nightmare at all, eh?" Lucien looked down at her, stroking her hair as she fell still once more. “But you've been here all day trying to get a ninth-caste demon out of her?” Lucien patted the girl's head again, but snatched his hand away when she roared and bit at him.
“It's difficult!”
“No, no, that's just the demon's influence on her body.” Lucien said, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “But it's the infernal equivalent of a small mouse, not even a decent demon...”
“It's not easy!”
Lucien burst out laughing.
“They never taught us how.” Lalael glowered. “Stop.”
Lucien straightened his face quickly. “Sorry. Sorry, it's just that the thought of you, here, all day, doing everything you could possibly think of to get the demon out, short of doing a funny little dance... And it's a soul-eater. Hilarious."
A long silence fell between them once again; even the child had stopped thrashing for the moment.
Lucien looked at his companion slyly. “You did dance, didn't you.”
The continued silence was answer enough for Lucien, who burst into fresh gales of laughter.
“Shut up.”
Lucien wiped a tear away and barely managed to stifle his mirth again. “No, really, just watch.” He took a breath and suddenly plunged his hand into the girl's chest; she hissed, her bloodshot eyes rolling back in her head.
Lalael cried out and grasped at Lucien's arm, trying with all his strength to pull it out.
“Back off,” Lucien said calmly.
Lalael did as he was told. Reality crinkled around Lucien's wrist like water; he ripped something out that shrilled and squeaked, and the girl fell limp and unconscious.
“And that's it. Poor kid,” Lucien said. With his free hand, he mussed the girl's hair. “Demonic possession takes a lot out of them.” Seeing Lalael's expression, he grinned and ruffled the angel's hair too. Lalael batted his hand away and glowered. Right, boundaries. He drew back a little. “She'll be fine, don't worry.
“But now,” he continued, “We have to deal with this. I'm terrible at rituals, so a banishment is right out of the question, and it'd be excessive for something this small. We should try it one day if we find a really big demon!” He waved his arms expansively, and the tiny demon shrilled again. “So we'll just feed him to Antichrist. Unless...” Lucien thought for a moment, then shifted his grip on the soul-eater. “Speak.”
The demon shrilled again and wriggled.
“Speak.”
It clawed at his hand and sank its tiny fangs into Lucien's hand. He didn't flinch.
“Speak.”
The soul-eater screamed again, writhing and rolling its yellow eyes wildly. In a voice of a thousand voices, all hissing-whispering-growling at once, it said, “Commanded by rank and the rule, we speak.”
“Who are you?” Lucien asked.
The soul-eater gave a low, snickering growl. “We are none.”
“Who are you?” he repeated. The d
emon hissed.
“No!”
“Who are you?” Lucien said again.
It writhed, growled. "We are the hive of the Red Stone, of South of the Seventh Circle, where our overlord is Sitri-zaka, Prince, who answers to none but the Highest of High, Prince Lucifer-zaka, called Lightbringer and First Felled, to whom we are loyal.”
“This is the fun bit, Lalael,” Lucien said, turning and falling into a chair. “And who is your queen, hive?”
“Our queen is our queen,” the demon said in its thousand voices. Lucien smiled.
“While I'm at this, Lalael, come over here. You might learn something about the difference between demons and Fallen Angels.” Lalael, who had been gaping and looking vaguely sickened by the proceedings, sidled closer and knelt. “This is a demon of mischief. Soul-eaters, imps, and the like, you see. Ninth caste, the lowest. Directly above them, you have the demons of temptations. The ninth-caste have hive minds, but hives are often queened by a tempter. These little ones bring food to it, obey all its orders... And it controls them, because it doesn't have enough consciousness to get confused by the million minds that it rules. Now, the higher you go through the nine castes, the more complex the creatures' psyches get, until we arrive at the first caste, the Fallen. And then, of course you have –”
“Yes, yes, the ranking,” Lalael said sullenly. “I know it. Like the back of my hand,” he added under his breath.
Lucien shrugged. “Have you studied the Rule of Three?”
“The Principles?” Lalael scoffed. “Everyone knows those.”
“No, more than that... It's the most basic rule to the most elementary bond-magic. Please note the trust that I am showing here, telling you this...”
“Duly noted,” Lalael said, looking warily up at him.
“As I was saying, everything that isn't mortal responds to the Rule, the whole world revolves on it. I won't get into the details, but the nine rules that govern the outcome of the Rule – do you know those? Three Restrictions, Three Conditions, and Three Bindings. Restrictions limit the effectiveness, Conditions aid it, and Bindings are the three things the Rule can...well, bind. Work out the math and...”
Lalael interrupted. “If I told you three times sing Canticle Four Thousand, Eight Hundred, Two and Twenty, would you?”
“No. I can't remember how Canticle Four Thousand, Eight Hundred, Two and Twenty goes. Your command would be the Bond of Speech, but it would be Conditioned by Ability – or rather, the lack of." Lucien raised his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully and rattled off more logic: "However, if you had the Restriction of Rank working in your favor – that is, if you were an Archangel, commanding me, a Fallen, then the Restriction of Rank would trump the Condition of Ability and I would know the song and therefore sing it, if I waived the Restriction of Consent, but if I didn't consent – you know, promising or swearing my oath or being generally willing to go along with it – the rank difference between me and an Archangel isn't enough for me to just know it whether or not I wanted to, so the Condition of Ability would hold. On the other hand...”
Lalael began looking panicked.
"On the other hand, if you, Lalael, commanded me and Bound me to Speech, and I consented properly, the Condition of Time would set in and eventually – one day when I did know Canticle Four Thousand whatever it was, once I learned it, I'd have to come sing it.” He blinked and grinned at Lalael. “You see? Makes total sense.”
Lalael stared at him.
"That's okay, you don't have to understand it now. Anyway--"
"I don't remember it either," Lalael mentioned. "Canticle Four Thousand, Eight Hundred, Two and Twenty."
Lucien smiled slightly. “So, now you know the basics – why don't you have a go with it? Ask it the name of its queen.”
“What's the name of your –”
“No no no.” Lucien stopped him. “'Hive of the Red Stone, who is your queen?'” Lalael nodded and repeated it.
“We told you. Our queen is our queen,” the thousand voices growled.
“Its name, please, the True name,” Lucien said amiably.
“No.”
“Tell us the true name,” Lalael said.
“No.”
“But that... was three times. Lucien?” Lalael looked up at him again, irritated. The Fallen was already shaking his head.
“No, it was just once from you. Has to be from the same person. Twice more.”
“Tell us the true name of your queen," Lalael said.
“No!” the demon's voices snickered.
“Tell us the true name of your queen.”
The demon wriggled again, pained, then howled. It paused, then gave a stream of chitters and squeaks to which Lucien listened intently.
“Well?" Lalael asked.
“That's the queen's name in their language."
“You can speak soul-eater?"
Lucien looked surprised. "What? It's not that difficult." He shook his head. "Their queen's name... Roughly translated, it's 'Heart-of-Gold'."
Lalael sat back on his heels. “That's not very demonic.”
Lucien shrugged again. "It's a demon of temptation. They have names pertaining to their sins. In this case, monetary greed. So, hive of Heart-of-Gold,” Lucien said, “Why were you possessing that girl?” The soul-eater sank its tiny teeth into Lucien's hand again; he watched with dry amusement. “I used your true name. Trumped the Rule. You know that, hive.”
“What?” Lalael asked, aghast.
Lucien's attention riveted on him – horrified shock won over mild surprise this time. “First you don't know how to do a simple weakening of the Fabric for exorcism, then you don't know the Rule of Three? And you don't know about Names, either? The Light upon you and the weatherperson, Lalael! Where have you been?”
Lalael's face darkened.
Lucien noted this and shook his head. “Never mind. Hive of Heart-of-Gold. Answer me.”
“The queen left us with orders from the Highest of High!”
“What orders, hive? Tell me.”
“To spread and overwhelm the earth.”
“But why would the possession of mortals help that?” Lucien got up to pace across the room. Suddenly he pivoted sharply towards the door and flung it open. “Your little girl's fine, ma'am, if a bit exhausted,” he said, brisk and cheerful, to the woman sitting in the hall. The imp in his hand shrilled loudly and Lucien shoved it into his pocket.
“Wh-what's that?” said the woman, wide-eyed.
“Oh, nothing!” Lucien said. He gestured for Lalael to precede him out the door. “Just a demon, a soul-eater, and a pretty huge one at that! It's a good thing we made it here in time; I don't even want to think about how badly off the girl would have been if we'd been a few hours later... Whoo!”
“My baby!” The woman shrieked, throwing herself into the room. “She really could've been hurt?”
Lalael's face looked somewhat paler than usual.
“Oh yes,” Lucien said, straight faced, “I've seen the symptoms before. Terrible, quite terrible.” He nodded.
“You're a doctor?”
“Ah. Well, no, not a doctor, per se. You might say I'm more of a... specialist. A professional,” he added.
The woman swallowed. “What do I owe you?”
Lucien glanced at Lalael, who was grinding his teeth. That wasn't very good for his jaw. He probably thought Lucien shouldn't charge for his help because that wasn't right or charitable.
Lalael caught his eye and glared: Clearly he would kill Lucien, truce or no.
“Hmm.” Lucien hummed, looking around while one finger tapped against his chin. “That glass vase should do.”
“Lucien!”
“What?” Lucien widened his eyes as if surprised. "The World just Ended, the government's completely messed up, who knows how many people have died the world over – do you think paper money's going to cut it? In a month, you'll see very clearly that we've regressed to a barter economy. As such, if I want the niceties of life, I
need to lay some valuables in store.”
Lalael stopped abruptly. “Oh.” Lucien watched him work through it, and he could see the exact moment Lalael decided it was acceptably reasonable. They had provided a valuable service, after all. “Yeah," Lalael agreed. "We'll take the vase and a clipping from one of your roses.” Lucien was impressed. He hadn't expected Lalael to catch on so quickly.
“But that was my mother's vase...”
“Your mother's gone above. To Heaven," Lalael said with a truly angelic smile. "So which is more important, that you keep the vase and lose your daughter to a spirit nibbler –”
“Soul-eater.”
“Soul-eater,” Lalael corrected smoothly. “Or that you pay us for saving your daughter's life? Because my colleague has been known to let them loose again if we aren't paid.” Lalael continued smiling, and leveled his gaze at the poor woman.
She shook her head. “Take the vase.”
“And the rose clipping?”
“Take the whole plant, I don't care.”
“Thank you for your business,” Lalael said to the woman.
“If I had a business card, I'd give it to you in case of any more instances in which you need spiritual exterminators.” Lucien smiled cheerfully. “But I don't.” He grabbed the vase and gave a short, sweeping bow. “Adieu!”
Lalael rolled his eyes and followed him out the door.
***
“No, Lalael, you cannot put your dirty bit of plant in my – mine – nice vase!”
“I'm not going to carry the dirt home in my hands! It'll be dead by the time we get back to the apartment!”
“Apparently you are.” Lucien clutched the vase to his chest. It was a pretty thing, the vase, all crystal blue glass with green streaks that spiraled from the narrow bottom and swooped up, graceful and slender, ending at the fluted neck.
“Please?”
“You don't want to put it in here.”
“Why not? I thought that's what I was just asking for,” Lalael growled, holding an end of the long cutting in damp, dark earth that crumbled in his hand.
“Because...” Lucien paused thoughtfully. “The dirt won't stay around it.”
Lalael glowered.
“Lalael. Lalael? Don't. Stop it – Lalael, come on!”
In the End Page 7