by Debra Dunbar
“I also need one of you to go to Eresh to find a sorcerer. His name is Gareth. He’s one of Feille’s runaways, and he’s somehow managed to carve out a place for himself among us.”
Dar blinked in surprise. “Gareth? He’s in Dis. That’s who Ahriman got the elf buttons from. He’s been selling magic items and scrolls to the demons. Got quite a nice little setup.”
“I’ll go,” Leethu announced. “Do you want a meeting with him, or to purchase something in particular?”
“A meeting. I’d go myself, but I’m limited to this human form and it would take me precious days to get to Dis. Can you have him come here in the next day or so?”
Leethu nodded and I turned to the rest of my household. They’d begun smashing various bits of furniture over each other’s heads, some jumping on top of others and choking them. It was like a pay-per-view wrestling free-for-all.
“Hey! Everyone! Pay attention!”
“We’re going to continue celebrating in just a few minutes but first I want to let you all know of an upcoming opportunity to go to battle.”
The demons looked at me blankly, a few of them whispering to each other. Demons hadn’t fought together in an organized group since the wars two-and-a-half-million years ago. I had a sinking feeling they’d become incapable of any kind of organized, team activity. That’s okay. There were other ways to fight.
“We’re gonna go kill some elves,” I said, with a fist pump. The room erupted into cheers.
“This is completely optional. There’s a good bit of danger involved and a chance that you might not make it out alive. If you don’t want to take the risk, it’s fine. You can stay home.”
I faced thirty-seven perplexed faces. Demons love to fight, gladly risking their lives for a good brawl. We were always aware that every moment could be our last, but self-preservation was at the bottom of our priority list.
“There will be some elves we can’t kill.” Groans of disappointment from everyone. “But they’ll be easily identifiable. I’ll let you know—a color or possibly an item they have. Those elves are off limits, but others are fair game.”
The demons cheered again, and I tried to think of a way I could structure this to limit civilian casualties and keep it from turning into a sea of carnage—demons don’t always know when to stop.
“Rules.” More groans. “There will be a certain area where killing is allowed, and a time limit. Stay within the rules of time, killing area, and allowed targets, and the demon with the most kills gets a prize. Break the rules, and face the punishment of my choice.”
There was some grumbling, but it was respectful. Everyone knew how creative I could be in my punishments. More than one demon had been sentenced to spend a week in the muddy swamps, living off bitey fish and rushes while being mercilessly stung and bitten by various insects. The swamps were my favorite place, but few demons shared my love of muck.
“What prize? What prize?” one of the demons squeaked in excitement. I looked and saw it was the little Low I’d taken in after killing Haagenti, the one who couldn’t do much more than change colors. I hoped he stayed behind. I didn’t want to see him dead. I didn’t want to see any of them dead, but for demons, this war would be an especial treat.
I ran though my inventory in my head, trying to find something suitable. “Scroll of invisibility.”
Again the room erupted into cheers, demons bouncing up and down, smacking each other with any available furniture.
“Wow, I want that,” Dar said.
I laughed. “You’ve probably got four of your own already. You’ve got more shit than any demon I know. Plus it’s a bit unfair. You’re the best fighter in a hundred miles.”
Dar puffed out his furry chest in pride. It wasn’t idle flattery—he was the best fighter I knew. Sneaky and strong, with a great sense of strategy. I had no idea why he stuck with me for all these centuries. He could have probably amounted to so much more on his own.
“So, who’s with me?” I asked.
Dar and Leethu shot up their hands, and the room was filled with waving limbs. There was no turning back now. I only hoped I could do what I needed to while keeping them all safe.
18
Gabriel stood on the bridge overlooking the Chicago River, car-clogged streets flanked on both sides by walls of skyscrapers. A promenade full of joggers hugged the riverside below him, the only thing of nature besides the sluggish green-brown water. The river seemed subdued as it made its circuitous route past the buildings on its way to Lake Michigan, but Gabriel knew better. Water. It was persistent, flexible but strong. Given enough time, it would break any opponent, breach all attempts at containment. It was the only thing that made this oppressive city of humans bearable.
“My Sovereign.”
A figure knelt on one knee before him, golden-brown hair sliding across her bent shoulders to curtain her downturned face.
“Rise, Asta, lest the humans wonder why you are on your knees in the middle of a walkway.”
She jumped to her feet, golden skin nearly hiding the blush that flushed her cheeks. In her enthusiasm, the angel had clearly forgotten she was fully visible while Gabriel was not. At least she’d had the presence of mind to hide her wings, he thought as he glanced at them, visible to his eyes—an intricate pattern of shades of brown, the long flight feathers startling white in contrast.
“Sorry. So sorry,” she stuttered breathlessly. “I haven’t seen you in almost a century, Ancient One, and I forgot myself in my excitement.”
She was excited, the white of her wings twitching against the pavement, her eyes, the same color as her hair, lifted to his in respect. A century was nothing to an angel, but time always seemed to slow when one was among the humans. Gabriel could understand her joy in seeing him, the head of her choir. It must have felt like an eternity since she had been in Aaru.
“Asta, you have been Grigori for nearly two centuries now. I have some questions to ask you, and a task to request of you, but I must first know if your loyalty is primarily with me, or with my brother?”
She caught her breath, her eyes wide. “With you, Ancient One. As always.”
Gabriel couldn’t help a rare smile. Her voice rang with truth, her aura a clean, shining white. Asta was one of the youngest angels, created barely before the wars began. It wasn’t unheard of for angels to petition to change choirs, to shift their allegiance to another. Knowing that she’d remained one of his even after reporting to his brother filled his heart with gladness. Loyalty was a highly prized virtue.
“Then what can you tell me about Vaol’s murder? I was informed you found the body.”
Asta bit her lip, pausing before she responded. “He was devoured, his corpse left in a park near some children’s playground equipment. Thankfully, the Eldest One managed to catch and kill the abomination before he was able to do additional damage.”
“How did you know he was there, Asta?” he asked gently. “Who informed you of his death?”
She looked at him in surprise. “No one. I was told there was a demon there. A plague demon. I flew to the town—that’s how concerned I was. When I arrived, I found him.” Asta clenched her hands, her eyes filled with horror. “He… the extraction wasn’t a clean one. There were bits of him remaining in his corporeal form. That’s how I knew who he was.”
Gabriel winced. “You knew him? Were you friends?”
She hesitated then seemed to come to some sort of decision. “In Aaru, he was merely a passing acquaintance, but over the last decade he was often here among the humans. Vaol frequented the Seattle area, although he traveled to the east coast of the continent. I’m assigned to the mid-west but had been asked to cover the west coast in addition to my usual territory. That’s where I met him. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we did see each other on occasion.”
“He was not authorized to be out of Aaru among the humans. Why was he here?”
Asta looked at him, her eyes filled with guilt. “I do not know, Ancient One. I
don’t want to speculate on his motives, or slander the dead without adequate proof of misdeed.”
“Very noble, but his being here without permission is also a sin. A minor one, but, still, it should have warranted a report. Did you let your superior know of his infractions?”
Asta shook her head, crimson once again staining her golden cheeks. “I’m sorry. There is so much sin here along with an overload of tempting sensation. The small things begin to seem acceptable. That is no excuse for my lapse in judgment. I beg your forgiveness.”
Gabriel placed a hand on her hair, sending a soothing tendril of blue out to calm her distress. “Stronger, older angels than you have done far worse. All will be forgiven.”
She breathed a sigh and relaxed slightly. “I only have another year of service before I return to Aaru. I’m afraid I need the cleansing only my home can offer.”
Gabriel smiled once again. “We will welcome you back, Asta, and honor the work you’ve done here. In the meantime, I ask that you serve me as well as my brother by facilitating the transfer of some objects between the gates and Aaru.”
Her expression grew wary. “The gates? Whatever comes from Hel has no place in our sacred home.”
Should he trust her? If she was going to be a liaison for Tura, she should be aware of what was happening.
“I tell you this in the strictest confidence. A group of angels has found a way to create without unholy contact or violation of the treaty. Demon essence will be delivered through the gate to you, and you will deliver it to a contact in Aaru.” He watched her stunned expression turn thoughtful. “I’m sure you understand how sensitive this whole matter is. If it becomes general knowledge that creation is once again possible, all of Aaru will dissolve into riots.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I will gladly serve you in this capacity, my Sovereign. And I will maintain the highest level of secrecy.”
“You’ll be meeting Tura or one of his staff in Parral at sundown—the same place as you found the deceased angel.” Sorrow flashed across her eyes, and Gabriel remembered one question that she’d not yet answered. “Who was it that informed you about the presence of a plague demon in Parral?”
Asta took a deep breath, releasing it as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Furlac. An angel of the third choir.”
19
Dar went with me to meet Taullian. We were each allowed to bring one other to the meeting. I wasn’t surprised to see the elf lord with a sorcerer by his side. The gathering was at a clearing in the Western Red Forest, the buffer lands between the elven kingdom of Cyelle and the demon grasslands that surrounded the Maugan Swamp. Taullian had prepped the site with a large table—gently constructed to retain the look of wild growth. Two seats were at either end, and on top was a spread of food. It was a good strategy. Demons enjoyed food almost as much as they loved gifts.
Dar kept glancing over at me. He’d been doing this since he’d seen me this morning. The party had run into the wee hours without either Dar or Leethu, who had headed out to arrange the two meetings for me. Leethu wasn’t back yet, but Dar had shown up bleary-eyed in the morning, letting me know that Taullian wanted to meet right away. I hoped that was a good sign.
“You look good,” Dar whispered.
I knew it was more than a compliment on my attractive features. Somehow my human form had managed to fix itself overnight. All the blisters had disappeared to be replaced with smooth, tanned skin. The chewed up part of my arm with Ahriman’s mark was likewise unblemished, save for the dark smudge, like a smear of charcoal on my flesh. Even my burned hair had been replaced with thick, glossy, brown locks. I felt strong, a small store of energy within me, available as long as I didn’t try to hold on too tight. It churned through my spirit being, shining out through my eyes with an unholy light. I might have looked like a demon, but I didn’t feel quite like one. I felt… different.
“Lord Taullian.” I bowed as I spoke. “I appreciate the audience, especially on such short notice.”
The high lord sat and gestured for me to do the same. “Az. I am surprised you contacted me. Now that you have your freedom, there is no motivation for you to assist me.”
“Oh, but there is.” I leaned forward in my seat and picked up a spoon, twirling it between my fingers. “I’m still willing to assassinate your enemy for you, and fight on your behalf, but there is a price.”
He’d flinched when I reached forward, but quickly relaxed. A spoon was no weapon, and I was well aware I looked non-threatening in my human form.
“And that price is?”
“I want all the elf gates in the kingdoms under your control to be dismantled. Never again will you trap unsuspecting humans and keep them as slaves.”
He laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Second, there will be no more changeling swaps in any of the kingdoms under your control. No more human babies will be stolen from their parents and brought to Hel.”
“But how are we expected to replace the humans who die? They don’t live very long, you know, and we render all of them infertile upon puberty so there are no issues of loyalty.”
“And no longer will humans be subject to involuntary sterilization. All humans in the kingdoms under your control will be granted their freedom and be given a subset of a kingdom of no less than the value of eight million hecals. They will be considered citizens and given all rights and privileges as such.”
Taullian shook his head, a smile turning up the corner of his lips. “And for this you will make me a god? Grant me eternal life and all the riches of Hel? Really, Az, nothing you offer me could possibly make me consider such a preposterous request.”
With a feeling of déjà vu, I showed him the underside of my arm. He frowned, and his sorcerer leaned in close.
“What happened to your other tattoo? The one from the angel?” he asked.
“My Lord,” the sorcerer murmured. “That is a consort mark. She is Ahriman’s partner.”
Taullian’s eyebrows shot up, practically into his hairline, as he looked from me to his sorcerer. “Ahriman?”
“Yes, Ahriman,” I confirmed. “For one thousand years, we have pledged in contract to each other. I am his consort, and I speak with his authority.”
It was a huge exaggeration, but what Taullian didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Dar, thankfully, kept a composed face. The consort clause did give me status, but my brother was fully aware of its limitations.
“If, and only if, I win and hold all six kingdoms, I’ll grant the humans the peninsula. Only the ones who wish to go will be free. Ones that want to stay will remain under the same restrictions they have now. This excludes any humans in the mage program—they are ours. The freed humans are on their own. They’ll not be considered elven citizens or afforded any rights by us. We keep the gates and all humans who come through them as well as changelings.”
“Humans that stay with the elves always have the option to leave without hindrance. Mages and sorcerers and all others in the training program are included. No sterilization. No traps ever again. No changelings.”
Taullian’s eyes narrowed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his sorcerer watching the back and forth like a tennis match, his face hopeful.
“We have invested significant time and resources into these magic users. I won’t just give that away.”
I shrugged. “If the freed humans remained part of your kingdom, and were given citizen rights, you could tax their magical products and recoup your training costs. Dude, you can’t have things both ways. Either let them go and eat the training costs, or welcome them as part of your kingdom.”
I could hear his teeth grind from across the table. “My elves would never go for it. I’d have a revolution on my hands. It’s going to be hard enough getting them to swallow giving up their servants, let alone forcing them to treat them as equals.”
“Boohoo,” I mocked. “Such a hardship, considering another species to be an equal, worthy of respect. I’m sure
your elves would much rather be under Feille’s thumb. He’s always been so friendly toward Cyelle. He’ll give them big welcoming hugs and everyone will live happily ever after.”
Every muscle in Taullian’s face tensed. He knew there would be mass executions, that once Feille fully shouldered the mantel of his kingdoms, he’d ensure their obedience through fear and death.
“Now, in a time of desperation, elves may agree to this, but once the crisis is over, they’ll rebel and demand their humans back.”
I took the spoon I’d been twirling, and with a burst of speed and energy, slammed it halfway through the table. The handle quivered, the wood surrounding it smoking slightly.
“Then man-up, grow a set, and be a king, for fuck sake. Set the rules and enforce them, you fairy.”
The sorcerer sucked in a breath, but he did nothing to stand between his king and the demon who’d just jammed a spoon through a table and insulted him. Perhaps he was scared, but I was thinking his loyalties might be divided, especially with the fate of his own people in the balance.
Silence stretched between us, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. Dar shifted slightly, coming into view on my right and motioning with his hand as if he were patting the ground. Wait. Let Taullian make the first move. I’d thrown the glove in his face; it was his turn to respond. It would do my position no good to break the silence and either backtrack or push too far forward.
“Any free human practicing magic is subject to a special tax, regardless of where they reside. The humans are on their own with the peninsula as theirs. No sterilization, but any human child born to those serving elves must be bought-out if the parents choose freedom. No on the gates.”
“How the fuck are they supposed to buy out their children?” I erupted. “They’re slaves. They don’t have any wages or possessions. No deal. Fuck you and fuck your little problem. Have fun when Feille has your head on a pike at the edge of the Western Red Forest.”