Wicked Whispers

by Nina Bangs

  Chef George stared at Murmur, his mouth open and his eyes wide and staring. He’d dropped his spatula. He didn’t seem about to say anything anytime soon.

  “See, now this is a big-ass disappointment.” Ganymede looked at Klepoth. “Yo, explain this shit to me.”

  Klepoth shrugged. “I’m the demon of illusions. The Master wants me to convince Murmur to spend some quality time in the loving arms of his demon family so he can rediscover his roots. Hey, just doing my job.”

  “Well, this sucks.” Ganymede narrowed his eyes. “Since you don’t need anyone but Murmur, why don’t you whip up an illusion of a sleazy dive with booze and lots of dancing girls? The rest of us will have a few drinks and wait this out. When you’re done, you can pop us out of your illusion.”

  “And if I don’t?” Klepoth returned Ganymede’s stare.

  “Then I’d be bored just standing around. And when I’m bored, I cause trouble.” Malice filled his feline eyes. “You seem like a powerful guy, so I assume I’d have to break a sweat to escape your illusion. Hey, I’m lazy. I don’t do hard. I’d just hang on the sidelines talking really loud and getting in the way while you tried to deliver your message to Murmur.”

  Murmur felt anger thrumming through Klepoth, but he knew the other demon would have enough sense not to challenge the cat.

  Klepoth nodded. Suddenly, a building popped up behind where he was seated. The sign above the door read Fat Butt’s Bar.

  “I figure that’s not a slam at me, because if I thought it was, I’d have to tear out your throat.” Ganymede hopped off the boulder and padded over to the still-speechless chef. “Let’s get out of this freaking cold for a while, George.” The chef obediently followed him through the door.

  “Why didn’t you just free them?” Ivy still pressed against Murmur.

  Klepoth shrugged. “Once I’ve created an illusion, I can only maintain it if all the characters remain the same. I can change things within the illusion, but no one can leave once they’re in.”

  Murmur pulled away and gave her a gentle shove. “Go with Ganymede and George. I’ll come for you when we’re finished.”

  “No. And don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m not leaving you alone to face this. Whatever this is. So the faster we get it done, the sooner we can leave.”

  “Ivy, you can’t—”

  “I can.”

  Klepoth interrupted. “Let her witness what happens when a demon deserts his calling.”

  Well, hell. Murmur speared her with a hard stare he hoped would convince her to obey. “Don’t try to interfere. This is all an illusion.”

  She nodded, but he saw the fear behind her eyes. “I know it isn’t real.”

  He wished Ganymede had forced her to go with him, because knowing the illusion wasn’t real didn’t matter. Klepoth was a master. His illusions felt real. But Murmur had no more time to worry about Ivy.

  The dead air moved. Not natural. It felt as though the entire Underworld gasped for air—in and out, in and out. A warning that he had come. The Master. First Murmur felt the dread, the animal instinct that said danger was near. Then came the vibration in the earth that signaled legions of demons on the move. And with them would come Ganymede’s big cheese. Okay, maybe not the big cheese. The big cheese didn’t bother himself with demon discipline unless it involved one of his arch demons.

  They flowed across the barren landscape toward him, the thirty legions of demons he commanded—grotesque, powerful, deadly. They moved silently. Part of the horror of the Underworld was the absence of sound. Demons exchanged thoughts, so speech was unnecessary. Those trapped here who couldn’t read thoughts existed in eternal silence. And there were just so many centuries you could spend talking to yourself. This was one of the reasons he clung to his music. If you’d never lived in total silence, you couldn’t truly understand the beauty he found in melodies and rhythms.

  Beside him, Ivy gasped. “There’re so many of them.”

  “Those are my legions. The Master brought them along to remind me of my duty. I’m supposed to use them to visit destruction on earth.” He laughed softly. “Instead of using my music to amuse myself.”

  Murmur felt her shudder. “Klepoth pulled up the most frightening demon images he could think of. We can take whatever form we choose. Personally, I don’t like the clawed hands. It’s tough to play a guitar with them.” He didn’t blame her for not laughing. It was pretty lame.

  At a signal only the demons could hear, they stopped. The masses parted, opening a path. And something monstrous slithered toward them. Murmur glanced at Klepoth.

  “Give me a break. The Master never took that form.” Slimy and reptilian, it studied him from under hooded lids. Klepoth had nailed the Master’s eyes. Even though Murmur knew the other demon was creating the image, it made him want to back up. He didn’t. “Intimidating, though. Of course, anything more than ten feet tall would do that. But overall, a good job.”

  He started to hum in his mind. He’d keep it there. This was Klepoth’s show, and he’d have to bear it to the bitter end without interfering. The Master had sent Klepoth, and the other demon wasn’t about to shirk his duty when he knew what would happen to him if he failed. So even if Murmur tried to avoid him, Klepoth would just follow him around.

  His master spoke.

  “I am not pleased, Murmur.” He spoke aloud in a wet hiss that revealed rows of sharp teeth. Drool dripped from his thick lips as he watched Murmur.

  Murmur had been absent from the Underworld long enough to find his master’s narrow red eyes with their slit pupils a little disturbing.

  “I gave you power.”

  “Yes, Master.” Not true. Murmur had gained his own power. His master gave no one power if he could help it, because that power could someday be used to overthrow him.

  “I gifted you with legions of demons to do your bidding. How have you used them? I see no human deaths, no destruction on the mortal plane.”

  “I work alone, Master.” He didn’t think the kills he’d made with his music would impress anyone, certainly not someone who thought a death toll in the thousands was only a minimal success. So he didn’t mention them.

  Instead he called for his music—something strong, impenetrable—to form a barrier between himself and the pain. The music didn’t come. Frantic, he tried again. The music had always flowed smoothly, an extension of himself. Now it was gone, as though it had never existed. For the first time in his long existence, he truly felt naked, afraid.

  “You have failed. You don’t deserve your music.”

  Each word cut at him in a very physical sense. Three deep slashes opened in his chest. Pain ripped at him. He gasped. Blood poured from the wounds and dripped onto the gray dirt.

  “No!” Ivy’s voice was a horrified whisper.

  The Master wasn’t finished. “You have killed less and less as the centuries passed. All of your talent wasted. This makes me angry.”

  Invisible claws raked at Murmur’s back. He felt his shirt shred as agony burned through him. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to counter the torture. Blood, warm and sticky, trailed down his chest and back. He would not scream.

  “Stop it. Now.” Ivy’s voice shook, but she stood strong.

  He hadn’t wanted her to see this. The pain in her voice hurt him as much as the Master’s punishment. “It. Isn’t. Real.” He gasped between each word.

  “The pain is real.” Her voice no longer shook. Now anger hardened it.

  He wanted to tell her to go inside with Ganymede, but it took all his strength just to stay on his feet.

  “As I made you, I can destroy you.” The Master rose to his full height, a scaly monster with clawed hands and feet along with a head that resembled a crocodile’s. A long forked tongue darted out, testing the taste of his words. He found them good, because he almost smiled. “You will burn.”

  Murmur panicked for the first time. Not because of the Master’s words, but because Ivy woul
d see it. Real or not, he’d feel the searing agony of the flames, and he would scream.

  He sucked in his breath as fire rose around him, closing off any escape. Heat blistered his skin, smoke choked him, and the first lick of flames touched him with the promise of unending torture.

  Murmur tried to see Ivy through the rising flames, tried to speak words of comfort. But when he opened his mouth, he could only scream.

  Ivy met his gaze, saw the agony in his eyes, and lost it. She forgot that Klepoth was the creator of the illusion, forgot that it was even an illusion. Murmur was suffering. That’s all that mattered.

  Stop! The word was in her mind. It swelled and grew until it filled her, until she knew it would explode from her, and that when it did nothing would ever be the same. Because something else came with it. She didn’t understand the feeling, the knowing. Whatever other thing hid within her word, it pushed against her mind. Pushed and pushed until she opened her mouth and freed it.

  “Stop!” The sound and power of her voice shocked her.

  It was a silent explosion, silent like everything else in this damn place. She rocked with the pulse of expanding released energy. The sudden white flash of light blinded her. She flung her hand over her eyes.

  And when she took her hand away, they were all back in the castle’s hallway. She looked for Murmur first. He leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in quiet gasps. There were no wounds, no burns, not even any rips in his shirt. But his face looked drawn and strained.

  Ganymede stood staring at her, a speculative look in his cat eyes. The chef sat on the floor wearing a glazed expression. His spatula rested on the floor beside him.

  Finally, she looked at Klepoth. He lay on the floor, unmoving.

  “You knocked him out when you tore through his illusion.” Murmur sounded as weary as he looked.

  Tore through his illusion? What was that about? She didn’t have a clue what had happened.

  “Perfect timing, babe.” Ganymede wasn’t using subtle sarcasm. “The dancing girls had just come onstage, and I had this giant dish of ice cream in front of me. The cute waitress even poured some Amaretto on it. The Amaretto was so that I could drown my sorrows over Sparkle and her freaking faery. I didn’t even get a chance to taste it.”

  The old Ivy would’ve tried to keep the peace by apologizing. The new Ivy decided that Ganymede could suck it up. “That giant slimeball was hurting Murmur.” She took a deep breath and asked the tough question. “What happened?”

  “I think we just saw what Mab’s side of your family tree can do.” Murmur pushed away from the wall to walk over to her. He didn’t touch her.

  Ganymede sat down while he continued to offer her his unblinking cat stare. “You’ve got magic, lady.”

  Ivy shook her head as she started to back away from them. “No. I didn’t do anything. All I did was yell.”

  “And that yell had faery magic attached. I could smell it.” Ganymede shifted his attention away from her as George shuddered and then clambered to his feet.

  “But why now?” It was all too much. She wasn’t ready.

  Ganymede stood and moved closer to the chef. “Because this was the first time you called it.”

  “No, no, I didn’t.” She was in full-throttle denial.

  “You wanted something tonight, and you couldn’t get it without help. So the help came.” Ganymede seemed to feel he’d explained things sufficiently, because he turned his full attention to George.

  Just in time. The chef took a frantic look around and then bolted.

  “Shit. I have to catch him and erase his memory of this crap. If he quits, Sparkle will try to cook. She did it before. Food poisoning sort of sticks in your mind for a long time.” Ganymede leaped after the chef.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen the cat move that fast since I’ve been here.” Murmur sounded a little more normal.

  Ivy’s hand shook as she pushed strands of hair from her face. “What now?” Someone tell me what’s happening to me.

  “Now we get Klepoth out of the hallway.” Murmur walked over to look down at the other demon.

  Ivy couldn’t work up any sympathy for Klepoth. “Why did he use that illusion? And how did he make it feel so real?”

  “His job is to scare me back to the Underworld. Pain is a great motivator. He can make his illusions feel real because he can manipulate areas of the brain that perceive and control pain, just as he can control all of our senses. This is his power. I couldn’t keep him out.”

  “He’s evil.”

  Murmur looked pained. “We do what we were created to do. Klepoth wants to survive. We all have that instinct. So he does what needs doing.”

  Left unsaid was that he was no better than Klepoth. She didn’t believe that. Maybe you don’t want to believe it.

  She had no chance to answer before Holgarth swept down the hallway—robe swirling, pointed hat tilting, snark cocked and ready to fire.

  “We will never maintain our five-star rating if you insist on littering the castle with unconscious demons.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not your friendly demon-removal service. I have other, more important duties.”

  “How did you know?” Ivy was learning to ignore Holgarth’s rants.

  “I felt the disturbance and correctly assumed you were responsible.”

  He was talking about “you” in the plural sense, because he swept both of them with an accusing glare.

  “What will you do with him?” She glanced at Klepoth. He’d be ticked when he finally came to.

  The wizard stared down his nose at the unconscious demon. “I do wish we had a garbage chute or an incinerator.”

  Ivy’s horror must have showed, because Holgarth shrugged.

  “Since we have neither, I suppose I’ll have to shove him into a plastic bag and toss him into the trash bin. Tomorrow is trash day.” He cast Murmur a calculating glance.

  “No.” Murmur scowled. “I won’t do it.”

  “Why not?” Holgarth seemed sincerely puzzled. “He obviously did something to you. Your pain was strong enough to touch me.”

  Murmur kept his gaze on Holgarth. “He’s not a thing to be thrown out. He did what he was created to do. We all do. He didn’t give the order for my pain.”

  “We have to do something, and quickly. Guests who trip over bodies usually check out, and then they go home to tell their friends. It’s bad for business.”

  The body in question groaned and opened his eyes. “Haven’t had that bad a trip in centuries. I need a drink.”

  Murmur moved to Klepoth’s side and crouched down beside him. “Go to my room. Order a drink. Wait for me. We’ll talk.”

  Klepoth nodded as he looked past Murmur at Ivy. “You pack a punch.”

  “You deserved it.” Ivy wasn’t in the mood to back down from anybody.

  Murmur helped haul Klepoth to his feet. Once upright, the other demon staggered toward the elevators. Holgarth sniffed before walking away, outrage in every stiff stride.

  “Come to my room.” Ivy didn’t plant a question mark at the end. She headed for the stairs.

  He hesitated before following her.

  Once in front of her door, she unlocked it. “Lay on my bed. You still look a little shaky. I have to make sure my brother is okay.” I have to make sure I’m okay.

  She stood there until he closed the door behind him, then she went next door to talk to Kellen. He wasn’t there. Panic was close to the surface as she pulled out her cell and called him.

  Ivy didn’t give her brother time to say anything. “Where are you?”

  “I found someone to give me a tour of the castle.” He sounded excited. “You won’t believe it. I was sitting at the desk, and suddenly this cat appeared. She said her name was Asima and that she was a messenger of the goddess Bast. She freaking talked in my head.”

  Damn. Ivy didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t keep him isolated forever. “Put the cat on the phone.”

  “Huh?”

  “
Put the phone next to her ear.” She waited impatiently for him to do it while she tried to figure out how to speak softly enough so that Kellen couldn’t hear what she said.

  She needn’t have worried.

  “I assume you have important information for me”—pregnant pause—“or you just want to yell at me for being with your brother. Whichever it is, I’ll speak with you mentally.”

  A convenient skill. So, Ivy supposed, she just had to think what she wanted to say.

  “Exactly.” Asima purred her pleasure.

  Okay, here went nothing. “What do you want with Kellen?”

  “I don’t have any friends in the castle, and your brother seems nice. I thought it would be fun to spend some time with him. Oh, and I know you must realize that he looks like Mab.”

  Hey, it worked. “And you plan to do what with that information?” She put all the coldness she could into her mental voice.

  “I have no intention of harming your brother in any way. Consider my lips zipped.”

  Ivy didn’t know how much she believed Asima, but she figured just this once she’d take the risk that he’d be safe. “I don’t mind if you show my brother the castle, but try to keep him away from the faeries. I don’t trust them.” And I don’t trust you.

  Asima’s purr got louder. “And what will you do for me in return?”

  Ivy huffed her frustration. “Name your price.” Maybe she should’ve worded that differently.

  “I have tickets to a chamber music performance here in Galveston. Murmur will be with me. I’d like you to come too. This will be so much fun.” Her purr was a motor revving up before the big race. “No one from the castle ever appreciates true culture.”

  “Fine. I’ll go.” Fun, fun, fun. She’d get more joy from poking herself in the eye. But being with Murmur would help. “Bat the phone back to my brother.”

  Kellen spoke. “No one said anything. What was that about?”

  “We talked mentally.” That sounded so cool.

  “Wow. Do you think Asima could teach me to do that?”

  “I don’t know, Kellen. I really don’t know.” Right now she felt overwhelmed. “Look, I’ll check in with you later. Have fun with Asima.”