He glanced down the rock, pockmarked in shadow. He could climb down if he was slow and careful and waited for his hand to heal after he’d taken the bone case out. Judging from when he was stabbed, healing would be quick. Best leverage the case out of his hand while he was sitting down. Wouldn’t want to fall off the ledge because of pain. Could he mutilate himself? The questions he was asking himself these days!
Below, the ground rumbled. Sweat crept into Carlo’s eyes. He licked salt off his upper lip and a groan escaped him. In this most desolate of places, everything hit him squarely on the jaw. He dropped his hands and allowed himself the luxury of sobbing. His body shook.
When he was done, his situation had not changed. He sat up. He could slog on now a little more. He was no use to anyone if he stayed in despair.
Carlo let out a breath and studied his hands. Better to peel the case away, or rip it? He grabbed one end of the bone, smooth and warm, and levered it upward. His palm tingled with fire. No, he wasn’t going to rip it off.
“Come on”—he mimicked Paolo’s voice—“you’re smart. You don’t want to shame the family. Think your way around the problem.” Carlo stared at his hand. “I’d tell you to go to Hell, Grandpa, but then I’d have to put up with you here.” He opened the case.
Solomon’s Scroll was a humble object given its reputation and all the fuss; thick paper rolled upon itself. When Carlo unfurled it, he recognized the writing as Hebrew, in a strong, firm hand. The ink was dark, not faded. Magical ink. A nauseous feeling in Carlo’s stomach could have been caused by smelling brimstone, fire, and decay, but Carlo thought his demonic nature might not enjoy the Solomon Scroll. Too bad for him. He tucked the scroll into his cloak, the magic chafing his skin through layers of clothing, like an annoying bug bite he could not scratch.
Carlo studied the scroll case, an ancient artifact full of history and power. He should keep it safe, at the very least count it as a treasure, a token from his first magical battle. Or not.
He dashed his hand against the rocky cliff floor, the scroll case at a slight angle. It pried partially off his hand and he shouted―at least he thought he did. The bone case fragmented into tiny bits, flying about him, sparking as magic was released, the resulting explosion drowning out the screams of the damned. Carlo skidded across the rock floor as the magic discharged, slamming back into the recess. Damnation, that hurt. Rocks skidded in a rain to the ground below him. The bone case was still melded to his palm, but he could flex his fingers over the flat fragments left. Blood dripped from his hand and from where fragments sliced his face. Carlo’s heart hammered. He slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and focused beyond the pain. With his eyes closed and his ears numbed, he was in oblivion, which wasn’t bad given his alternatives.
Carlo knew his hearing had come back when he heard the wings whirring like a hummingbird’s might. His eyes popped open and he used the cliff wall to steady himself on the way up to standing. Two demons flew toward him. One of the demons vibrated his wings so fast they blurred behind him. The other one had bat wings, leathery and veined. The bat demon planted itself on the edge and crouched like a building gargoyle, its triangular tongue dangling from its mouth. “I wonder if it is good to eat,” it said to the other demon fluttering above them.
Carlo showed his hand, embedded with the scroll case fragments. “I’d give your digestive system some distress.”
The crouching demon covered its eyes. “What is in your hand?”
“My magic,” said Carlo. “I promise not to burn you with it, if you help me down from this ledge.”
“Why in Dis would we even come near you?” His voice buzzed as fast as his wings, sounding like a beehive.
Carlo shrugged. “Don’t you have to obey me? I’m a magician, and I have the scroll. The scroll.”
The two demons whispered, their susurrus like leaves in a storm. The crouching one stood up. “There is some truth in what you say. I can feel the scroll. But you are no magician, and a brother of ours besides, so what good is the scroll to you? We would help you even if you didn’t have it because we’re family, but you know we want nothing to do with them.”
“Them?”
The bat demon extended his arm as if Carlo could see through the rocky cliffs and the fire pits. “Those ‘demons’ beyond the desert. They live in their golden city and they will want the scroll. They think it can save them.” He hissed, but maybe he was laughing. “When you fall, you fall, regardless of how high you fall from. Once in the Abyss, always in the Abyss.”
The buzzing demon crackled. “As if damnation were reversible.”
The same thought Sofia had, perhaps. “I’m not interested in the golden city or those others. They aren’t important to me, either. Who’s in charge here?”
The two demons conferred again. “Stay here,” said the buzzing demon. He whirred away.
The bat demon hopped from foot to foot. “You stink of Binder magic.”
“Yes,” said Carlo. “You know how they are with our kind. Always pushing us around.”
“I hear you, brother.”
Carlo sat on the hot stone. He found it soothing and his eyelids drooped. “Do you have a name?”
The demon leered at him. “I’m not telling. Names always get us into trouble.”
“Fair,” said Carlo. “Have you always been like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“The common belief is you are a damned mortal soul or a fallen angel,” said Carlo. “Are you?”
The demon rolled its eyes. “I am not going to dignify your naive question with an answer.”
Another continuing mystery of theology, then. Carlo gazed into the distance, watching the shadows and the creatures slither, float, and crawl.
“Can I ask you a question?” said the bat demon.
Carlo cocked his head in response.
“How can you be a mortal and a demon?”
Carlo paused. “That is the question.”
The other demon hovered back. “I’ve been told we should take him down.”
The bat demon revealed stalagmite needle teeth. He might have been smiling. “You should leave the scroll here.”
“No,” said Carlo.
“Lucifer wants the scroll,” said the buzzing demon.
“At your disposal,” Carlo said. He made a polite bow and clicked his heels like an Austrian.
Each demon grabbed one of Carlo’s arms. The bat demon was fidgety, and the buzzing demon scowled. The scroll bothered them even more than it did Carlo. They lowered him through the hot air to the ground, where stirred-up ash caused him to sneeze.
Waiting for him was the classic woodblock Lucifer, the kind the Church liked to hold up when talking about witches. Lucifer was not as tall as Balthazar, but a full head and a half above Carlo, with goat legs and cloven hooves. Horns curled around his massive head, his face triangular, goatish, with a billy’s beard on his pointed chin.
The demons deposited Carlo on the stone and fluttered away. Lucifer stepped back. “You have it?” he asked. “The Scroll of Solomon?”
Carlo nodded.
“Give it to me!” Lucifer said. “It is not yours.”
“For the moment it is,” said Carlo.
“I will snap your neck and take it.”
“You don’t want to do that,” said Carlo.
“You are wrong, boy. I do want to kill you.”
Carlo saw himself reflected in Lucifer’s eyes. “I’m here because your mistress sent me to you. You are Khun?”
“I am not.”
Carlo smirked. “Believe me, I’ve heard many lies in my life, and you lie poorly. Sorry if I am being disrespectful to your demonic nature. Since you and your mistress woke me up, I can tell which demon is which.”
Lucifer lunged at Carlo.
Carlo sidestepped and placed his open palm, the one full of scroll fragments, on Lucifer’s bare back. Violent burns made the monster jump away. Khun changed into what Carlo was used to, more a Pan than
a Lucifer.
“Sorry,” said Carlo. “The scroll case hurts me. I didn’t realize it would have so much effect on you.”
Khun gasped. “Why did you come?”
“Octavia sent me. I think. I was stealing the scroll to keep it safe from Ra and she told me to crawl into the shadows in the corner. I came out here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“She wanted to keep the scroll away from Ra.”
“Why should I care what Octavia wants? She discarded me.”
“Ra possessed her. She did not discard you. She is still your mistress. You owe her your loyalty.”
Khun bleated. “I owe Octavia nothing.” He moved closer.
Carlo raised his palm and stepped away. “Let’s start from that point. You owe Octavia nothing. Your plan is to stay here in this wasteland and feel sorry for yourself, right?”
“No.”
“It looks like that to me. My transportation down the cliff told me about a golden city. Why didn’t you go back there to your own kind?”
“I will rip your arm off and beat you to a pulp with it.” Khun stepped toward him and Carlo backed away.
“Ra pushed you out, not Octavia.”
“She chose Ra.”
“She chose nothing. Ra used her to kill Lucy. Would Octavia kill Lucy?”
“Liar!”
“Lucy is dead!” Carlo lowered his hand. “My grandfather did it. He freed Ra, and Lucy is dead. You asked me why I’m here. I’m responsible for taking Lucy to him. I guess I’m responsible for Ra taking Octavia as well.” Carlo’s voice grew quiet. “Lucy would want me to save Octavia. Octavia needs you. She’s counting on you.”
Khun stopped. “You can’t be telling me the truth. Killing a Binder violates the sacred conditions of the Solomon Scroll at its most basic level. We do not kill Binders. They are our only hope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The sole way my people are redeemed from the Abyss is through our relationship with the Binders. I thought I had solved the riddle of redemption. If I didn’t let Octavia Bind me, or I didn’t Demon Bind her, if we were equals, we would both be free from this wretched agreement.”
Carlo laughed, a hollow laugh, which rang off the rocks. “Octavia wanted Lucy to have her Trial and was prepared to kill her if she did not, and you tell me this?”
“I should have claimed Octavia. She wanted me to. I should have. This would never have happened if I had Bound her.” Khun deflated. “I thought if I loved her, it would suffice.”
“If you love her, you won’t leave her to Ra.”
Khun threw his hands up and gripped air. “This is where I belong.”
“More self-pity?” Carlo was weary and wanted to sink down to the rock, into the rock. “Ra’s burning thorough Octavia, killing her, and you say you can’t be bothered to help.”
Khun picked up Carlo by his collar. “I can’t leave here. I chose Octavia, and she discarded me. The Egyptians know I have failed. I can’t return to the golden city.”
“You said it yourself, Khun. There was no Trial. Nothing has been decided between you and Octavia. As far as I can tell, you are the only demon who can leave the Abyss, because you are still connected to her. You can find your way back to Octavia.”
Khun narrowed his eyes. “No. She has Ra now.”
“Ra is not Bound to Octavia. You are. Since your situation is unprecedented, I’m not surprised you’ve lost track of the thread which joins you. Who can help us find it?”
Khun dropped Carlo to the ground. “We are not without our own magicians. They hate Ra; Isis in particular.”
“Ra’s chief rival for power,” said Carlo.
Khun stared.
“I read, you know.”
Khun smiled, and Carlo shuddered. He hated the demon’s smile. “You feel about Lucy the same way I feel about Octavia?”
“No,” said Carlo, his voice flat. “I feel responsible for Lucy. That’s all there is.”
“It’s the same. The rest, it depends on what they want, what they ask for.”
“Take me to the city,” said Carlo. “We’re wasting time here.”
Time dilated to the whims of the gods. Crossing the desert with Paolo Borgia was like walking across a tableau pretending to be the desert, like a painter trying to capture the essence of the desert as a backdrop. The heat glared ahead where the tableau ended in darkness. Apparently the Egyptian gods needed the desert to go only so far. No one would wander into this space. The gap between the Egyptian magic and the true Abyss was all the more palpable here. Lucy looked into the dark gray shadows. What creatures would they find beyond the desert? Would there be other creatures in between, neither Egyptian nor demonic?
Lucy read the papyrus again.
Paolo leaned over her shoulder, mopping his forehead.
“You’re warm?” Lucy asked, studying the map.
“The desert is nothing, but I am old and you move at quite a clip.” He looked over her head. “The darkness ahead of us is the Abyss. Why don’t the Abyss demons come to the city, attack the gods?”
Lucy folded the papyrus again. “Light scatters the shadows. The Egyptians built this rim around their city to protect themselves. At least, to give them an advantage should they be attacked. They use magic to keep themselves separate.”
“Over there,” said Paolo, looking into the distance. “Can you see them?”
Lucy shielded her eyes with a hand. Others crossing the desert, heading toward the golden city. “I can’t make out what they are.”
Paolo zigzagged off the path, moving toward them.
Lucy weighed her options. To talk with these travelers presented no apparent problems. If a problem presented itself, she would use her Julii magic to make a good showing. She followed.
Paolo started running, tumbling down a dune. Lucy pursed her lips. He wasn’t trying to escape her, was he? One of the other travelers started running toward him. Gangly, thin, dirty. Carlo Borgia. She moved toward them.
Carlo dragged behind Khun as they left behind the Abyss. “Stop,” he said.
Khun glanced over his shoulder, but kept going. “Mortals are weak.”
“No.” Carlo tried to straighten. “It’s carrying this scroll. It feels wrong.”
Khun stopped, but stayed at a distance. “The scroll is why I’m walking ahead. Have you thought about what you’re going to do with it?”
“Another problem you can solve if things turn out well with Octavia.”
“I wondered if you’d keep it yourself.”
Carlo shook his head. “Too much demon in me to entertain that prospect. Just enough to make things uncomfortable.”
They trudged on. For his next magical adventure, Carlo wanted to have to travel through Firenze. An epic quest, and then they could stop for coffee.
Carlo ran into Khun. “Why have we stopped?”
Khun pointed a long nail. Two people were walking toward them, one small, in shimmering red, and the other taller, grayer.
Carlo squinted. “I can’t make them out.”
The tall one took off at a run.
“It can’t be,” said Carlo.
“Go on,” said Khun. “See what the old man wants.”
“I thought you’d want revenge.” Carlo knew he’d given revenge some thought himself.
“I do,” said Khun.
Carlo ran toward his grandfather, scrutinizing the second figure. He stopped.
“Lucy,” he said.
Lucy watched Carlo as he stared at her. “Lucy?”
“Yes.”
Paolo ran past her, toward his grandson. “Carlo! I knew you had it in you! Did you come to find your old grandfather?”
Carlo voice cracked like a whip. “Stop.”
Paolo stopped. “You are not happy to see me?”
“How could I possibly be? How could you have done what you did? You have betrayed our family’s name in the worst way! You have betrayed our honor!”
“Do not
exaggerate,” said Paolo. “Our honor was lost long ago.”
“Not mine.” Carlo stormed forward. “You should have let my mother take me away after Father died. You manipulative bastard!”
“What is so bad about what I have done?”
Carlo clenched his fists. “Ra killed Lucy! You are responsible for her death. Ra’s taken Octavia. Khun wants to tear you limb from limb.”
“I admit I didn’t calculate Ra’s violence. I thought Ra might have some affection for Miss Lucia, that he would spare her. But”—Paolo gestured toward Lucy—“never let it be said I don’t try to at least repair my errors.”
Carlo stared at Lucy. “You were ripped to bits. Are you a ghost? Is this your soul?”
“No,” said Lucy. “This is me, my body. I am mostly myself.”
“She’s alive.” Carlo swiveled to Paolo. “You couldn’t have done this. I saw her torn to bits.”
“Isis restored Osiris,” said Lucy. “I assume I was a much easier task.”
“You sound different. You look different.”
“Taller?”
“No,” said Carlo. Finally, something to lift his heart. He wanted to hold her close, but for the impropriety.
“More stoic?” Lucy said.
“Your skin. You have color.”
“Ra is gone. I am a Binder no longer.”
“Death would change you.”
“It is not death,” said Paolo.
Lucy shook her head. “I remember nothing about death at all. I remember Ra attacking me. Then I woke up.”
Khun stepped behind Carlo. “What’s the verdict, demon boy? Do we need the old man or not?”
“I’m not sure yet. Is something wrong with Lucy?”
“Isis did not find Lucy’s ba.” When Carlo looked blank, Paolo rolled his eyes. “The soul in ancient Egypt has three parts, and when we are in the golden city, we follow Egyptian theology. The ba is most similar to the Christian concept of soul, essence, what makes Lucia Lucy, her feelings and personality.”
The Vessel of Ra Page 21
