Cancer's Curse (The Zodiac Book 4)

by Sating, Paul

  "Yes, I'm sure or I wouldn't do it, Ezekial." Her tone was light. "Let me clean this up and I'll be ready."

  I hugged her. "Thank you, Dialphio. I'm glad you're coming."

  She squeezed. "You're welcome. Now, let me finish. I'm starving. I cannot wait to try your mother's cooking."

  "Don't count your curses too early," I smirked.

  ***

  "There it is," I said, pointing at the massive Angel Oak tree that my parents owned.

  Dialphio whistled. "Who knew you came from money."

  "Money? Hardly," I laughed. "They're old and bought it when the market was good, I guess."

  "Aren't they about my age?" She gave me a sidelong glance.

  I answered carefully because she was right. "Well, it's not like it was that long ago. But you get my point. Things are more expensive now. They had to rent out the top half of it to an incubus who works somewhere in the Fifth's tech department. He told me once, but I don't remember. He's not the most social incubus in Hell, that's for sure. A bachelor."

  "Oh, is he attractive?"

  "He's my age," I answered flatly, which only made Dialphio's chirping laugh raise an octave.

  "But he's in tech, so he's got money," she said, batting her eyelids that were touched with green eye shadow.

  I pulled up short, crossing my arms. "I didn't realize you were so fixated with coin."

  "Business owners have to be or we aren't business owners for long. Especially bookstores. It's not easy, surviving, that is. Not in a world where most demons seem allergic to reading. A young incubus with coin sounds like an interesting way for me to spend the Samhain feast."

  I barked a laugh. "Ulseil won't be joining us. Father put that stairwell in before they even rented out the top half so he wouldn't have to interact with renters. After twenty years of him renting from my parents, I think I've seen him a handful of times."

  "Techies," she said with a playful smirk.

  "Techies," I chuckled.

  "Such a shame," she said. "Very well. I guess I'll just enjoy the dinner with your family and save my romantic interests for another time."

  "Thanks for your sacrifice."

  I held the gate open for Dialphio and took my time walking to the door and ringing the bell. It was weird, after spending thousands of years in the tree house to not walk straight into the home. But acting as if it was still my home was equally weird. How many years would pass before this awkward transitory period ended? Or was home a place you simply could never return to?

  "Ezekial! Why didn't you just come in?" My mother shouted with joy after pulling the door open. She threw her arms open and hugged me before pulling back and forming her intimidating square jaw into a smiling one. "And who is this?"

  Strong jawline aside, my mother was a warm succubus who covered her caring nature with hard eyes and a no-frills haircut that made her look five thousand years younger.

  I wanted to tell her that she wouldn't have to ask if she'd bothered to stop by the bookstore in the year and a half I'd worked there, but I'd already heard their excuses and wasn't buying any of them.

  "Mother, this is Dialphio, my boss. Dialphio, my mother, Lilith."

  They exchanged polite introductions, each almost racing the other to their obligatory hug. Formalities out of the way, we stepped inside—but only after I drew a deep breath before facing my father. I stripped my shoes off as my cousin ran over and hugged my leg. I reached down and rubbed her blond hair, tussling it. "Hey Ursela, how are you? How's school?"

  Ursela was barely over a thousand years old and in elementary school. But my aunt, Xarpa, and her husband Lal were professionals, focused on their careers for as long as I could remember, delaying any desire for children well past their due date.

  "It's great!" she exclaimed, still squeezing my leg. "We have been working on cellular structure this month. It's so interesting! Inside the cytoplasm are hundreds, maybe even thousands of things called organelles? They—"

  "Wow, that's awesome! They've got you working on cells already?" The last time I saw Ursela she was taking humanology and learning about the entire history of humankind, which she dutifully recounted in its entirety for me at a family gathering. No one rescued me, my aunt and uncle preferring to dump parental responsibilities on me so they could get a break during the visit. After that incident, I understood why they needed a break, and I'd also learned how to counteract Ursela's adorable but exhausting passion for learning. "We need to talk about that during dinner."

  Ungrateful looks snapped in my direction from the table around which the older demons gathered and chatted. I smiled at them. There was no way in Heaven I was going through that alone.

  "Ezekial." My father's lukewarm welcome broke up Ursela's latest debrief on her progressing education.

  I straightened to my full height, still far short of his, and plastered on a fake smile, acutely aware that Dialphio had moved closer. "Hi," I said, my throat tightening around the word as if it wanted to prevent me from giving him any more than he deserved.

  "I'm glad you were able to make it," he said, his face unreadable until his eyes moved to his new guest. Reaching to extend his hand to Dialphio, he introduced himself with a warmness I hadn't felt since the first time I left for the Overworld. The prick. "I'm Kanthor, Ezekial's father. Nice to meet you and welcome."

  Dialphio grasped has hand in her chubby pair, but only after checking me with a glance. "So nice to meet you, Kanthor. I'm Dialphio. Ezekial has told me so much about you. It's nice to put a face to those stories."

  "Has he?" my father answered, arcing his back just a little straight.

  I tucked away the joy rising at Dialphio's double entendre. Father didn't appear to pick up on it, making this even more enjoyable. Heavens, he wouldn't think anything negative could be said about him or that his perspective on anything wasn't the perspective. Mother almost always agreed with him, and when she disagreed, he conceded. But she was the only one I had ever seen get that allowance from him. Four or five hundred years ago, Kanthor had a drinking buddy, Maximus Truse, who was experiencing one of those personal growth moments you secretly hope all demons with outdated perspectives go through. Intolerant to a fault, Father accepted his friend and even agreed with him on a lot of things I found repulsive, like personal freedoms—or the lack thereof—the Council should restrict. But during a poker night out at our house, Maximus told the small gathering of incubi he had changed his mind on a few things, and one of those things was the restrictions on inter-Circle travel. Temperatures rose as the debate continued until Maximus stood, slapped his cards on the table, and ranted for five minutes about the restrictions being a totalitarian measure by a government with something to hide. Father did not take that well, they shouted, they screamed, they had to be pulled apart, and they probably would have come to blows if it hadn't been for Mother stomping into the room and giving my father 'the look,' which calmed the beast. The night ruined, the poker gathering ended, the incubi went home, Maximus and father never spoke again, and my eyes were opened about inter-Circle traveling. Father never conceded, never reached out to his old friend, and never entertained the possibility that he might not be absolutely correct. Maximus aside, I don't know if Father ever met someone who outright told him he was wrong about something and accepted that alternate opinion. Dialphio wouldn't be that individual because of her allegiance to me, not out of fear of making him angry, but it was fun to imagine.

  "Yep." I lifted my chin. "All the quality stuff."

  "Glad to hear it," he said carefully, before replacing his placid expression with something warmer, only reserved for her. "I'm so glad you could join us for the Samhain feast. Let's finish introducing you to everybody."

  Dialphio let herself be dragged away to the table where introductions were made. I followed. It was pleasant, and a side-bar conversation between my parents and my boss gave me a chance to catch up with my aunt and uncle in peace, without Father's influence or disapproving comments.

 
; Peace was not something that existed in this home for me recently. Besides the atrocity where hundreds of demons were killed at the failed execution of the angel Gemini, a cloud that still hung over Hell, that fateful day left small, less significant but still impactful personal ramifications lingering. Namely, the increased tensions between myself and my father. Throughout my life, they had suffered the indignity of my status as the Segregate—Hell's only demon to never have magic. The status disqualified me for academic and job opportunities, caused me to be bullied throughout my childhood, and even cost my parents a number of friends. The cost of having a freak for a son. A label that had every succubi rejecting my advances, and every incubus wanting to fight me. I was not one of the tribe. It was a label many insisted I still wear. If they only knew what I could do now. How things had changed, right under the noses of the Fivers who shunned and ostracized me for thousands of years.

  But even owning the awesome halberd did not bring that sense of peace. When the Council saw fit to hand me more assignments, the tension between me and my father started evaporating. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. We were on the road to recovery until Gemini and my imprisonment. Attending the execution in chains shamed my father, and that was the final straw in his humiliation. Our relationship had not been the same since, and a year later, it was still difficult to have cordial conversations. Whenever we were together, we pretended that was all. Pretended to get along. Pretended to be father and son.

  Tonight was destined to be an uneasy event. For weeks I struggled with how to decline the invitation to the feast. Never finding a believable excuse, I'd accepted the invite and faced the doom of disapproving parents. Not until Dialphio accepted to come along did I see this as something I could survive. Now that she had my father distracted, I could at least get a little enjoyment out of the evening.

  "Zeke, you must tell us about your adventures," Uncle Lal said. "Your mother talks about you all the time. Says you're doing incredible things for the Council."

  I looked away because lying is hard. "Did she now? Well, I have done a few things for them, but I haven't worked for them in almost a year, so I don't have anything new to talk about."

  From the corner of my eyes, I noticed my parents and Dialphio halt in mid-conversation. I did my best to ignore them.

  "Is it true that you've actually gone to the Overworld?" Aunt Xarpa asked.

  "Of course, it's true. Why would anyone lie about that?" Uncle Lal said, refilling his wine.

  Wine was a favorite drink of the Samhain feast. Bottles would fill trash cans by the morning all around the neighborhood. A recipe for disaster anytime family got together. Especially families with unresolved tension. Demons under the influence of Lucifer's rich wines didn't always make for the best conversations, sending millions of Samhain feasts spirally in dangerous directions over the course of our history, I'm sure.

  "Oh, because demons lie all the time?" Aunt Xarpa replied with a sideways wink at me. I think she sometimes forgets how old I am, though I may always be an impling in her eyes.

  Uncle Lal nodded. "Demons lie, yes. But the Council doesn't. That's why I asked him. No harm in that."

  I drew a deep breath, trying to keep it hidden by dipping my head and tucking my chin against my chest. It sounded like Uncle Lal was drinking from the same batch of Council–infused wine as my father. Encouraged that my aunt didn't take things like my donkey ride humiliation after I refused to help fight Aries at face value, I answered. "Yes, I did. Twice, in fact."

  Aunt Xarpa sucked in a breath, excited. "What was it like? Is it as horrible as rumors say? Are the mortals truly as foul as I've heard? Tell me everything."

  I shook my head. "No, in fact they're quite a lot like us, believe it or not. Pretty diverse too. They have towering structures and motorized vehicles and their skies are filled with flying vehicles called planes. You've probably seen them in mortal movies, but they're bigger in real life. Mortals have a terrible reputation amongst us, I'd say. They have struggles, they screw things up; they're fallible. But aren't we all?"

  "Listen to him, a demon of the world," Uncle Lal slapped his leg. In my head, the sound was more like a pop of a rifle. "Never, in a million years would I have thought the Council would select a Sunstone to do anything, but especially to be lifted up. You've made us proud, boy."

  "Thanks, Uncle Lal," I said with a smile. And then the smart ass in me slipped out. "It's nice to know some demons understand and appreciate what they have made me do."

  Both my aunt and uncle cast glances in my father's direction. I didn't bother to gauge his thoughts on the matter. Those were already firmly established. In my time working for Hell's rulers my father had excused away my humiliation, accepted my lack of autonomy, and ignored my frustrations at being forced into morally grotesque events.

  My aunt lifted her head, a smile splitting her face. "Well, I for one am very proud of everything you've done, for Lucifer, the Council, and us. The Sunstone's, a family that has served the Council." She shook her head. "I can't believe it's true, even now."

  "When are you going back?" Uncle Lal said.

  "No idea."

  "The boy isn't getting any more work from them after what happened last year," said father, taking a long drink of his wine while eyeing me.

  From the kitchen, my mother tsk'ed. "We're not going to talk about that, remember?" Her tone was light, but anyone who knew her could pick out the hidden threat buried in her message.

  I wasn't surprised. She still hadn't come to terms with the fact that I'd been arrested and imprisoned. Being barred from seeing me thanks to that scheming snake of a Founder, Apopis, for months afterward wasn't helpful. And because we weren't able to have an open and honest conversation about the truth, my parents still had no idea of the extent to which the Council went to protect themselves. Even sacrificing two young demons who'd been in their employ. The shame, the confusion and turmoil, and the heightened tense attention from the Council was too much for even her, I guess. We still had so much to talk about and clear up.

  Ursela jumped in the chair next to me. "Father says you did something very, very bad. Is that true?"

  Aunt Xarpa flinched, her cheeks darkening. Uncle Lal gave his daughter an eye roll. "Now, now. Let's not be telling tales. Okay, darling?"

  "But," Ursela protested, "that's what you said. You said that Ezekial was bad, and he had to go to jail." She turned to me, excited in her innocence. "Is that true? What's it like? Is it as scary as it seems?"

  I don't know what made me happier, the unadulterated beauty of honesty—even if it came from the youngest demon at the table—or the absolute discomfort of everyone else seated around me.

  I tussled Ursela's blond mop of hair. She giggled. Before I answered, I reminded myself that she was still an impling, unaware of how deceitful adults could be. It wasn't my role or responsibility to shatter her innocence. Her parents and the Underworld would do that soon enough, just as it had for me. Just as it had for any observant and insightful demon.

  "It is true," I said in a low voice as if she and I shared a conspiracy. "I went to jail."

  Her eyes grew large. "What did you do? Were you as naughty as father said?"

  I looked at my uncle, who distracted himself in the bottom of his wine glass. I couldn't really fault him since the only information he had came from the Council and my parents. His ignorance was only partially his fault. "Actually, no. I wasn't naughty at all."

  "Then what happened?"

  "That's a very long story. A very boring one, I promise."

  Ursela thrust her shoulders up and then down again, tucking her hands into her arms and jutting out her bottom lip. "No one will tell me anything."

  The comment drew a round of uneasy laughter from around the table.

  "That's because it really is like Ezekial said," Mother said. "It is a boring story, one we don't need to discuss."

  "But I want to know."

  "That's enough now," Uncle Lal said in a firm tone, waving his wine
glass around at the attendees of the feast. "We're all here for a wonderful Samhain feast your aunt has been feverishly working on for hours. Let's enjoy the food and the family while we can. We don't have these times often enough."

  "That's true," my father finally contributed.

  "Who would like to say the invocation?" Mother offered.

  "I will," Ursela said excitedly. And she did. She thanked Lucifer for the food—she hadn't eaten my mother's cooking yet or that might have been retracted—for the family, for the family time, that I wasn't in jail for being 'bad' anymore, for her devildog Sparky. She thanked Lucifer for the Hellfire, for her favorite doll Jezabel, that her mommy and daddy loved each other. She thanked Him for more things than a succubus ten times her age should be thankful for as I watched Mother's interesting meal cool on the table. I almost quipped that the youngest demon at the feast should throw in a kind word to the big man that I wasn't Abandoned in the Overworld, stripped of my demonhood, as punishment for my supposed screwups. The occasion did not need anymore tension between me and my father. Plus, Ursela had it right. Being thankful for all life's good things instead of bitching about its bad things, like the tall white-haired incubus across the table from her did, was the healthier way to live life. The last thing I would do would be to contribute to throwing her off-course.

  As the conversation turned back toward less awkward topics, Dialphio stared at me, unwavering. Her head swiveled from demon to demon as everyone transitioned from an awkward assessment of my life to Ursela's innocent rambling chat with the king of Hell. After a moment, she spoke up.

  "Are you really not going to tell them, Zeke?" Dialphio said. My chest clenched. The problem with having good demons on your side is that they want the best for you no matter the circumstances. And the really good ones defend you even when you won't defend yourself.

  "Tell us what?" Mother said with an air of caution, holding a spoonful of mashed—but lumpy—potatoes over her plate.

  Dialphio's emerald eyes widened as she jutted her head forward. "Well?"