Necessarily Evil- Prophecy

by Shad N Freud

  Her noticeably flushed face (from anger or otherwise, Cenere wasn’t fully certain) made her look absolutely adorable.

  “Look, yeh feckin’ lecherous little worm, I was enjoyin’ a particularly nice massage from one o’ the golems, and suddenly I’m all alone in my room because they all went here. Is it too much to ask that yeh don’ hog all o‘em while ye’re engagin’ in water sports?”

  “Look, they come here all by themselves, alright? I don’t control them.” Cenere shrugged sinuously as the soapy water began to clear, giving the irate Scotswoman a better view.

  Camilla glared at the very nude tiefling, as the golems had fled once the yelling started, and did her level best to ignore his rather noticeable…charms. The massage had gotten her all hot and bothered, especially since she’d figured out how to make one of the golems change over to a male form. The fact that the massage was largely internal was none of Cenere’s business, although the blush that was slowly creeping across her face was rather telling.

  So was the fact that one of the golems that had populated Cenere’s bath had been very male for a moment, before switching back to female.

  Cenere’s face broke into a lecherous grin as he leered at the hint of cleavage poking out of Camilla’s bathrobe. “Massage, huh? Decided to see just how ‘detailed’ the golems are? Trust me, I noticed the first night I was here. Carl hates it, as he’s a married man and doesn’t feel like indulging himself. He’s a bit of a prude.”

  Camilla’s blush threatened to go sight-seeing and visit every locale it could on its way to the soles of her feet. “Shut yer hole, pretty boy! I was jus’ getting’ a massage, nothin’ more!”

  Cenere rolled his eyes and made no move to cover himself, just folded his arms behind his head and got comfortable. “Inquisitor, remember? The ‘tat on the back of my hand does kind of act as a lie detector, and I’ve been trained in how to ferret out the truth. Granted,” he muttered as he sank further into the warm water, “I should have been a little better at it when under duress. Almost got me kicked out of the Inquisitor program in disgrace when I got caught banging a Cardinal’s wife. Of course, she neglected to mention that part and I neglected to see if she was married. In my defense, she has an incredible ass that can make you forget your own name if you lose control of your libido.”

  Camilla fought very hard to maintain eye contact. Before her mission to the temple, she hadn’t had time to really satisfy her own libido, nor had she really had an inclination. She wasn’t a prude, per se, but she wasn’t a wanton either. She had just been assigned one mission after another and was too busy to take care of her own needs. That, and the jungle’s humidity had thoroughly ruined the electronics in her vibrator, and she’d been unwilling to ask her predominantly male teammates to fix it.

  Cenere was lying there like a perfectly grilled ribeye, and Camilla felt like she hadn’t eaten in months. She turned on her heel in a huff, stomping her way out of the bathroom.

  “Of course, if you don’t mind waiting about ten minutes, I can give you a massage myself. I’m pretty damned good at it, I might add. Inquisitor of Lust, after all.”

  Cenere smirked when her spine went ram-rod straight as she stood at the door to his room, then gave him the evil-eye over her shoulder to his waggling eyebrows. She muttered a minor hex and slammed the door as she left. Cenere chuckled until the water rapidly chilled as the temperature control runic structure temporarily failed and froze the bath with Cenere in it. “I’d-d c-c-call h-her a fr-frigid b-b-bitch, but that w-would jus-st be s-sup-per-fl-fluous!” Cenere chattered as he channeled Hellfire throughout his body and melted the ice before getting out of his bath.

  Unbeknownst to either party, Sachi was rolling on the floor of her room laughing after watching the entire thing on her surveillance feed. She’d never admit it, of course, but she was a bit of a voyeur. She snickered as she watched Cenere shiver his way over to his wardrobe and pull out a warm robe. Camilla, meanwhile, was already back in her room and rubbing her thighs together furiously as she fought the urge to take the jerk up on his offer. Sachi couldn’t really blame the poor girl; he was pretty, after all. She watched as Jin perused the library and nodded at the zombie as he resumed his duties restocking the shelves.

  ∞∞∞

  Jin’s eyes ran over the volumes of lore as he looked for one specific book he’d read days before. This was their free time, after all, as they’d opted to take a trip by way of Aircarrier that was headed in the same direction, aboard the Satanic Forces Ship Crowley across the Atlantic. He found the tome written in the same language as the schematics he’d been shown, one that was only partially translated into English, and slid it out of the shelf delicately, the book extremely fragile.

  The zombie moaned as it pointed at the book. “Thaaat one staaaays. Reference book. Or not. Jussst donnn’t let l’Orannnge catch you with iiiit. He’ssss beeeen working on that transssslation for a little while now.”

  “L’Orange? Wait, that was the previous owner. Carl owns this place now.”

  “Oh. Welllll, crap. That explainnnns why L’Orannnnnge hassssn’t been by in a while.”

  Jin stared at the zombie incredulously. “Don’t you ever leave this place?”

  “Noooo. I get paid by the hour,” it groaned as it took one laborious step, then another. Jin face palmed as he placed the ancient text onto a floating platform he’d conjured and pulled it by the silken cord it was attached to. He made his way back to his workshop and placed the book carefully onto the table.

  “Greggory, could you please do me a huge favor, and translate this for me?”

  Greggory shifted in his orb as he sighed, and the purple light flowed from it once more, scanning the entire book without opening it. “If you must know, it’s a book on fundamental arcanomancy called ‘The Joy of Enchanting,’ published by McG Press. It’s required reading for the R&D department at various adaptation centers in McG Prime. Or, at least, it was. Do you have a diamond handy? I can inscribe the book on one if you have a Crystalline Matrix Reader. Although, I’m not sure how useful it’ll be to you. This is only the first edition, after all.”

  “Crystalline Matrix Reader?”

  “This is going to be my whole day, isn’t it?” Greggory vibrated in irritation.

  ∞∞∞

  Carl sat in his room, staring at a small photograph of him holding his wife and daughter with a smile, his tusks having been removed once again by an Alterist. He rubbed the picture as he lost himself in his memories of the little tyke. A knock at the door roused him from his wool gathering, and he carefully put away his picture as Jeeves strode in with a steaming towel, a shaving kit, and a bowl of warm water. Carl moved to the barber’s chair that rose from the floor in the middle of the room and lay his head back as Jeeves honed the razor with a strop.

  “Quite a crew you’ve assembled, Carl.” Jeeves smirked as he placed the towel on Carl’s face to prepare him for a shave. “A pervert, a voyeur, a career gun-bunny, a misanthropic Oracle with a superiority complex, and a gluttonous murder-lizard.”

  “Mmhmm,” Carl murmured as Jeeves lathered his face. “And all of this to fulfill a Prophecy. At least they mostly get along. You swept the room for surveillance devices, right?”

  “Of course. Sachi may be inventive in her placement, but I’m tapped into the mansion. I left the ones in everyone else’s rooms and am now copying the data stream.”

  “Stones and glass houses, Jeeves.”

  “It’s for security purposes!”

  “Jeeves. It’s just me. Come on now.”

  Jeeves sighed as he rested the edge of the blade on Carl’s jugular for an instant before slowly, efficiently, and painlessly giving Carl a very close shave with the straight razor. “I just get so bored, Carl. I haven’t had a vacation in twenty years and could really use the time off. Especially since I’ve had to work double time to keep that bipedal crocodile with the metabolism of a shrew fed. I don’t begrudge him the food, obviously, and he eats with such
…gusto. I can tell he enjoys every bite, which is high praise…but it gets tedious. And, what with the end of days coming…”

  “Jeeves. I’ve told you to go ahead and take time off. Regularly. So, go. Do it. Enjoy yourself. Hell, take a couple million from petty cash and go paint the town red for all I care.”

  Jeeves leaned his head back as he finished cleaning Carl’s face before applying aftershave, staring at the ceiling. He tilted his head back downward before shaking it. “Perhaps after your little cadre has accomplished their mission. Until then, I’m needed here. Also, your wife wrote to ask if you’d be coming for Sophie’s birthday. Shall I send the usual form letter with your regrets?”

  Carl glared at the copper man before grabbing the open letter out of Jeeves’ hand. He read through the letter and looked at the picture enclosed, seeing his daughter’s smiling thirteen-year-old face as she stood with her lacrosse team holding up a trophy for the state championship. “No need, mate. I’ll give Tryst a call meself. Later.”

  “Very well, sir. Also, you’ve a call coming in from the ship’s Captain. He requests your presence in his cabin to go over drop procedures.”

  “Got it,” Carl said as he stood, his clothes materializing around him in a flash, and made his way out of the mansion. The broom closet door closed with a soft click as he made his way through the sleekly designed passageways. He’d served a short stint aboard an older airship, one with exposed cable runs, pipes, and hard edges everywhere. This ship felt more…organic, with smooth lines, access panels hiding everything, and a certainly more upbeat crew. That said, the deferment he was shown by the crew got old pretty quickly. He’d gone out of his way to hide in the mansion after the first two days, as hearing “attention on deck” every five minutes grew tiresome quickly.

  It was part of the reason Carl hated working with the military; not because of the terrible food, long hours, and the enlisted men’s age-old habit of complaining to help each other alleviate boredom. No, it was the constant recognition. Carl itched to pull out his pack of cigarettes and light one but didn’t out of respect for the ship’s crew. They weren’t allowed to smoke while aboard the airship, so he fought the urge to give the Captain’s rules the finger, and instead pulled out a pack of gum to slide a slice into his mouth. His boots clicked on the deck as he did his best to avoid the sailors going about their daily life while he navigated the massive ship to the Captain’s Cabin. He fought the urge to growl and knocked on the captain’s door.

  “Enter,” the ship’s Captain called through the door.

  Carl stepped into his office and took one of the somewhat uncomfortable seats that sat three inches shorter than the Captain’s. Granted, as the Captain himself was seven feet and change, it wasn’t all that necessary. Captain Dirge Cracktusk’s orcish heritage was quite obvious, especially with his tusks sharpened to needlepoints. He offered Carl a drink from his cabinet, although Carl politely declined as he rarely drank with people he despised.

  “So, Carl, the plan is to drop you with a Zodiac by Normandy Beach. From there, you’ll need to find transport to the train station in Paris. That’ll be the easiest way to get to your next destination without drawing suspicion. Hopefully, you can get to the train station in Paris without any- “

  “Stop. Don’t even say it!” Carl growled as he glared at the Orc across the desk from him. The Captain’s brows rose quizzically. “You’re a ship’s captain. You should bloody well know better! Never tempt fate like that! Especially,” Carl unconsciously pulled out his pack of cigarettes and had it halfway to his mouth before he caught himself, putting the pack back in his pocket with a growl, “when so bloody much is on the line. Look, I still haven’t forgiven you for trying to get me washed out of the Inquisition back when we wore short pants. I’ll admit it, I’ve been petty, and we haven’t spoken much for the last fifty years, but you’re my cousin. I wouldn’t want to risk any harm to your ship or her crew…but we’ve been attacked damn near every bloody step of the way, and I’d rather not borrow any more trouble than I need. I’ll take these plans to my people, and we’ll go over it, even practice in the training room. Anything else?”

  Dirge’s eye gleamed as he stood and walked to the door. “For what it’s worth, I do apologize. I was jealous, and you were the golden boy in me mum’s eye. After you passed me up twice in the rankings at Sinisterem, I felt like you were going to get through the training ahead of me. As it is, when the truth got out, I got washed. So…again, I’m sorry. When this is over, I hope you won’t mind me meeting my niece.”

  Carl looked his cousin in the eye and grudgingly nodded. “We’ll see,” Carl said before he walked out of the cabin, pausing at the door. “Sophie likes chocolate, by the by. Hates black licorice like her mum and plays lacrosse. And she lives in southern California, near the Naval Base at San Diego. I’ll leave you a note in the broom closet when we leave. Don’t,” Carl growled as he glared Dirge right in the eye, “make me regret this, or I swear by Lucy’s left nut that you’ll find out just how badly a body can be broken without dying.”

  Neither man noticed the shadow that had listened in on the entire conversation. It waited until the captain left his quarters, then slid through the ventilation, and continued down ductways and through fan rooms until it reached Officer’s Country. It then slid through the vents of the Auxiliary Systems Officer’s stateroom. Or rather, former AUXO, as the man lay in a congealed pool of his own blood, his throat slashed so deeply his head was barely connected by a small flap of skin.

  A small summoning circle with a smudged chalk line showed the cause of his death: improperly summoned demon, doubtless summoned out of youthful foolishness. The demon smiled, her mouth a jagged scar of not-darkness. Her eyes flashed with actinic purple light as she chittered in laughter, dipping its finger into the congealed blood, as it began drawing eldritch runes on the walls. The banishment mandala she was constructing was rather rudimentary but would suffice. The shade chittered with sinister delight as she faded from view, the energies holding her on the plane failing.

  Hopefully, Prince Marduk would be in a mood to reward her for the information she was bringing home with her.

  Chapter Twelve

  The ship’s Combat Systems Officer entered the Combat Information Center, blowing gently on a mug of military grade paint stripper the crew referred to as coffee. He kicked the Weapons Officer’s chair. “Wake up, fucker. I’m taking the watch.”

  The Weapons officer rolled his eyes as he grabbed his empty coffee cup and vacated the Tactical Watch Officer’s seat, then left the CIC. The CSO took a sip of his coffee as he looked around the room. It was changeover, and the other stations were conducting pass down. The Radar System Controller was asking if there were still any hamsters in the mess hall when his relief glanced at the console, and all thoughts of Chicken Cordon Bleu were forgotten as he saw numerous unknown tracks pop up on his screen. He watched, slipping the headphones over his ears as he began mousing over the tracks, his trackball skittering from one to another, each track lacking an Iterrogated Friend or Foe signal. “Aww, shit. Hey OCC, can you give me IFF on the tracks we’ve got popping up?”

  The Operations Control Controller rolled his eyes, and turned back to his console, and pinged IFF as well as sending out a Spectrum Sensor ping. In return, he saw a lot of red dots populate his screen. His console was right next to the RSC, and the petty officer glanced over at OCC’s console and swore colorfully.

  “TAC, RSC. I’ve got a ton of small fliers, and…oh, balls. Vampire vampire vampire! Inbound hostiles, bearing…360!”

  The Combat Systems Control watch looked over at the TAC, who was already calling the bridge. The ship’s #1 Master Comms System crackled to life, alerting the crew to the change in battle conditions. “General Quarters! All hands to battle stations. Secure all decks and report to your designated repair lockers. Proceed along damage control routes, up and forward on your starboard side, down and aft on your port side. General Quarters. This is not a drill
. Reason for General Quarters: Inbound Hostiles.”

  Outside the ship, areas exposed to the elements began retracting into the more protected armor of the outer hull as weapons platforms slid out of the deck. Missile pods began tracking the winged demons that flew as a swarm at the ship, their insectoid buzzing merging together to form a deep, resonant drone at a variable frequency. The energy barriers emitted by the ship began to lose stability as their attackers flew into it like moths to a bug zapper, incinerating the house cat sized wasp-like demons as they pushed forward and darkening the area inside the barrier.

  Weapons ports opened all over the carrier as Lumi-lances bristled across the ship, as well as twelve barreled cyclical mechanized autocannons, also known as Captain It Won’t Shoot or CWIS due to the high failure rate of previous models, which began spinning their barrels in anticipation of unleashing a wall of summoned depleted uranium death upon the abyssal horde. Finally, one particularly resilient demon pushed it’s scythe like forearms through a weak point in the barrier and penetrated the field.

  All weapons systems on board locked onto the breach and the nearest CWIS canon belched out a half second burst, showering the breach with high density rounds and converting the chittering demon into a hazy green mist of blood and viscera. As more breaches began to open in the barrier, more of the weapons began their deadly tango with the Vespidae chaotica, causing horrific casualties for the eldritch bugs.

  In the distance, beyond the crew’s ability to see, one large tear in reality formed, and Mistress Ink re-entered the world astride a Void Dragon, one of the four subspecies of dragon capable of traversing open space or the Abyss. Its glassy eyes belied the charm spell Ink had used to ensnare her steed, and she cackled in glee as she rode the dragon into battle. She’d received information from Marduk about where the gestalts could be found, and she’d be damned if she would pass up such an opportunity. The dragon’s mouth opened, and from its gaping maw and rows of teeth came forth an invisible wave of…nothingness.