Live and Let Lie

by F. A. Bentley

  A shudder suddenly crawled up my spine. Slow and excruciating. Barely audible over the howling wind I heard something that instilled sheer panic into me. The sound of whimsical humming.

  “Nuhl, the Rusalka’s catching up to us. Goddammit get up!”

  No response. I unceremoniously threw her over my shoulder, and began lurching forward.

  I ran, I jogged, I sprinted, and then I ran some more. No matter how fast my legs took me, the Rusalka’s infernal humming only seemed to draw nearer.

  “Of course,” I muttered, gasping for air, sweat and blood dripping onto my suit. “You were probably waiting for us. You’re Gogol’s favorite Familiar after all. Being immortal, competent, and scary as Hell I don’t blame his preference.”

  Laughter was my only response. Coming from everywhere and nowhere. It was when I made it to a crooked tree at the center of a small clearing that my foot slipped against loose ice. I collapsed face first into the snow, Zophie atop me. The heat of pursuit had been replaced with the chill of slowly freezing sweat.

  Up above, snowy white owls, grim and gaunt, stared down from the branches.

  The crunch of snow, slow and deliberate, marked the coming of the Rusalka. Unearthly tall, almost ethereal, and completely naked, just like I remember. Her wild hair shifted with the wind howling through the trees.

  “Out of curiosity,” spoke a familiar voice. “Which one of them sent you?”

  The Rusalka prowled around me. Her claws, caked in entropy magic, teased my chin. My eyes rose up to the tree before me as I managed to get to my knees.

  Nikita Gogol appeared, perched on a gnarled trunk among the owls.

  “What does it matters?” I asked.

  “Just a theory. I want to confirm something.”

  “Divination officially gave me the orders.”

  “I knew it. I could tell by your response to the Chorts that you’d been chosen by her,” Gogol replied.

  “Was that some kind of test or something then, you fossilized piece of shit?”

  “Not really. I don’t have a mind for tests. The only people a wizard tests are his apprentices and I hate apprentices. Too much power. Too much ambition. And you’ve learned enough about me to know why I have trust issues.”

  Gogol, raised by the Fairies of the forest, had the trust he placed in his fellow man rewarded with betrayal. As far as villains were concerned, I can’t say that I was surprised he ended up the way he did.

  “Sometimes the world gives us a raw deal,” I said.

  “It does,” he said. “But one has more agency than they might think.”

  “Sure we do.”

  “At least, I have no plan on taking agency away from you.”

  “Is this the part where you ask me to join you? You haven’t got enough vodka, ‘Father’.”

  “Of course not. Even if the Oracle sent you it’s not enough of a vouch.”

  “Vouch? What are you talking about? Stop wasting my time and murder me.”

  “Very well. I leave the choice to you then, you thankless no-talent gofer. Who shall be made a hostage, and who shall be interrogated and then killed?” Gogol asked, gesturing to the unconscious Zophie. “No need for two to be tortured for information. And I don’t really need two hostages either. Your pick.”

  Become a corpse, or a high value hostage. It was an easy choice for anyone to make in my position. Especially without Zophie being around to stop me.

  “Take Zophie hostage,” I said. “I could use some practice getting tortured, you enormous liver spot.”

  Gogol smiled. “I knew you’d say something like that. It took longer than most, but I think I’ve finally figured you out. Goodbye, Charles Locke.”

  A gesture of his hand, and the sleepiness brought on by the chill of the unyielding winter was amplified ten fold. I’d failed. Completely.

  I closed my eyes. I collapsed. The snow felt good on my face.

  Chapter 52

  Candles crowded around me in the dark of the warehouse. My short ragged breaths sounded desperate even to my own ears. Just beyond the veil of light, I could make out the contorting shapes of Vicky’s ‘family’ moving their hands and chanting in a low drone.

  Ah. I remember this. My beloved girlfriend had given me the seat of honor for her latest, most daring attempt to contact those from beyond. The ritual, gotten right from the dusty old tome she’d found who knows where, called for some pretty rare ingredients. Chalk of a certain composition, candles not made in any civilized part of the world, and something money couldn’t buy.

  One loved one. Me.

  My eyes darted fearfully around me, the cloaked figures carried on with their ritual, their heavy clothing unable to hide their sharp grins and hollow eyes.

  Big mouths. Hungry for power.

  The clack of heels echoed as a familiar figure stepped onto the raised platform. I didn’t want to look at her, I wanted to pretend I was somewhere far away. Though no matter how hard I tried to focus on the starry night sky just beyond the pockmarked warehouse roof, Vicky had never been one to take no for an answer.

  “Hey, Charles. What’re you looking at?” Vicky said, a cheerful grin on her blood red lips. Her face, twisted into a shape associated with glee. It eclipsed the starry night sky visible through the warehouse’s pockmarked roof. The curved dagger gripped tightly in her hand was slowly, sensuously trailed down my cheek. It was close enough for me to see the stains of dried blood near the hilt.

  I shuddered.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whispered.

  “Aw, they all say that, but just remember, you love me. Said you’d do anything for me. Well, this is anything. Be happy you’re getting a golden opportunity here!” Vicky said.

  Anything. Go to psychiatrist meetings with you. The police station to confess where certain people disappeared to on certain nights. Visit you in jail. They’d go soft on you. You’re still young Vicky. You can still turn back.

  Can’t you?

  “Great! I love that look you’ve got on your face right now. The jot notes say that the more distress in the loved one the better. Keep it up.”

  Were they even people anymore? Did everyone here, just beyond the candle lights, think this was okay? Wasn’t I one of them til just last night? Didn’t I stay silent too?

  Admit it, Charles. Just admit it.

  What?

  That you deserve to die here.

  A tear rolled down my face. The sharp teeth and long snouts of the robed figures just past the wall of candles grew frenzied.

  Help me. Please help me. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I don’t want you to hurt anyone anymore either Vicky. I don’t want to be like this. Please, I’ll do anything. Just…

  Vicky smiled wide. She raised her dagger to the sky for the final blow, and as she did, I noticed it.

  Two moons? High up in the sky?

  My heart skipped a beat. Not moons. Eyes. Wide, watching, with hair like crooked branches blotting out the stars.

  Just as the dagger fell to pierce my heart, I broke a hand free from the chains that bound me like they were made of cardboard. Reaching past the wall of candles, I gripped something small and brittle. I squeezed.

  “Sisters. I can’t, he’s-- it hurts!” whimpered a tiny voice.

  The dark of the warehouse slowly fell away from me. It crumbled and was replaced by something similar yet different. Grimy rusted metal surrounded me. Red stained cement made for the floor of a small room.

  Calling it a room was a compliment though. It was more of a dungeon. Or an interrogation room.

  I turned to see that I had a Kikimora firmly in my grip. Two more in my peripheral vision watched in dismay as I overcame their fabricated nightmare.

  Harmless creatures. As long as I wasn’t asleep.

  A shooting pain pierced the palm of my hand. I let go of the Kikimora I’d caught with a cry and a curse. Mostly harmless. It bit my hand and squirmed free of my grip.

/>   “How did he wake? How could he wake? If he breaks free he’ll kill us all,” cried one of them.

  “The mistress. If she can’t stop him no one can,” suggested another one, panic staining her voice.

  “But then we’d admit failure. We’ll be surely punished,” squeaked the third, coughing from my death grip.

  I was on some kind of metal slab tied to the wall. What kind of torture device was this supposed to be? I tested the rusty shackles I’d been chained up in and shot the trio of Maras a murderous grin.

  They all cried in unison.

  “He killed our nightmare. He’ll kill us too,” cried the first.

  “Run for it,” spoke another.

  “Mistress, mistress!” added the last.

  In a babbling mob, they cracked open the metal door that was the room’s only exit and swiftly disappeared. I was finally alone in the torture chamber.

  Almost alone, at least. I narrowed my eyes.

  “They might not know how I broke free of their nightmare,” I said, “But I sure as hell have a couple of theories.”

  The scent of offensively girly shampoo suddenly reached my nostrils. I became aware of someone leaning lazily against the frame I’d been chained to.

  “Lisistrathiel,” I said.

  “Charlie,” came her reply.

  Chapter 53

  “Just what I need. Another session of Olympic level linguistic acrobatics,” I groaned. “Untie me at least.”

  “Sorry Charlie but you’re my prisoner for the moment and so it would be counterproductive for me to release you from your restraints,” Lis replied.

  As she hovered into view, I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing a nurse outfit. A tiny domed cap with a big red plus on top. Also a white miniskirt with matching leggings that squeezed into her thighs just enough to bring their thickness to bear.

  I turned my head and coughed.

  “I’m surprised you’re not in full dominatrix gear,” I said.

  The she-devil’s eyebrows perked high. “Well, I mean, if that’s what you want…”

  She made to snap her fingers, but I shook my head furiously.

  “A joke dammit. That was a joke.”

  “You sure?” Lis teased. “I was half expecting you to be all ‘my tastes are… unconventional’ or something equally cheesy.”

  Of course she said the line in my exact voice just to amplify my embarrassment. I tried the chains latched onto my wrists again to no avail. I heaved a sigh.

  “I’m your prisoner then. Fine. What do I need to do to make you let me go,” I asked.

  “Take a wild guess.”

  “Strange that you’d be the first to bring up the deception game,” I said.

  “That’s because I’m going for a slightly more avant-garde attempt to deceive you. We haven’t tried a straightforward lie yet so now’s the perfect time,” she said.

  A straightforward lie sounded like an oxymoron to me, but knowing that she-devil I was certain she’d make it work somehow.

  “Do your worst,” I said. “And before you ask, yes, that is a challenge.”

  Lisistrathiel held up two fingers ending in razor sharp fingernails. “It’s a double parter since I’m not a very nice person. Ready? Fact one: Nine Towers is right to have ordered the--”

  “Trick question,” I replied.

  Lisistrathiel narrowed her eyes, “Oh, is it?”

  “Wordplay this time. The deception was crammed into the instructions, not the actual supposed test. That’s part one of the deception. Part two is identifying the lie itself. Which is of course, that you’re not a nice person.”

  “Charlie, are you really going to argue that the same girl you make weirdo fetish jokes with is a sweet innocent butterfly that loves nothing more than to frolic in meadows while wearing white sundresses and great big hats?”

  “Strangely specific, but yes.”

  “You sound really sure of yourself. You’re not even hesitating. Why?” she asked.

  I smiled. “The Kikimoras had me reliving that one ‘warehouse party’ I met you at.”

  Lis frowned.

  “Because of them I was reminded that you chose to save me at the ritual, sparing me eternal damnation,” I said. “That’s how I know for sure you’re not evil.”

  A long slow chuckle rumbled from within Lis, her eyes shone with wicked glee. “How naive can you get? Me? Save you out of the kindness of my heart? You’re a million percent wrong.”

  Shit. I knew this was going too smoothly. “What do you mean? I’m right, I have to be,” I demanded.

  “Let me make this official then: I, Lisistrathiel, swear to God that I saved your hide for purely cynical self serving reasons.”

  I waited, but no lightning bolt hit her. She couldn’t be telling the truth though, could she? I shook my head.

  “No.”

  Lis perked a jagged brow. Her voice was low, her usual tone of amusement absent. “No? You should get glasses if you’re having trouble facing the facts, Charlie. Or at least trade in those rose tinted goggles for proper spectacles.”

  “No matter how I look at it you’re wrong.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser.”

  “Let me ask you this then: Who is the better person? A guy praising God while burning an orphanage? Or a guy screaming ‘Hail Satan’ while saving kids from a burning orphanage?”

  Lis paused, “The guy saying ‘Hail Satan’ while saving orphans. Duh. Point?”

  “Point is even though your reasoning behind doing a good deed might have been completely vile, it doesn’t change the fact that you still did a good deed. Therefore not evil. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Lis’ eyes trembled with a strange emotion before softening. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. “What a bogus argument. Total sophistry. I really need to stop letting you butter me up like this. Fine, you win. Any one question you ask me shall be honestly answered. Go for it.”

  A thousand opportunities spread themselves out before me. All pointless. I might be one hell of a talker, but it didn’t change the fact that my mission was long over. Zophie was now the captive of the Lord Illusionist, the Order was just as likely to attack Nine Towers as much as their Supernaturals at this point, and I’d been little more than a puppet on strings for Nikita Gogol. I couldn’t think of anything. So I decided to ask something that had been on my mind for a long time.

  “Lisistrathiel, why do you always stare at me while I’m asleep?”

  The she-devil’s brows furrowed. She took a defensive step back. “Crud. You noticed. I could have sworn I dialed up the subtle whenever I decided to indulge my morbid fancies,” she said. “And you’re not going to let me get out of this by misdirecting either I bet.”

  I shook my head.

  “Am I really that interesting to you, Charlie?” she demanded. “Do I fascinate you? Am I a point of obsession?”

  Lis sighed, sitting down on an ancient table crammed into a corner of the room. She crossed her legs and pressed her lips together into a tight frown.

  “It’s cause I can’t sleep.”

  I couldn’t have been more surprised by the answer if she’d admitted to me she was actually the alien queen of Venus.

  “Don’t gimme that look Charlie,” Lis said. “I’m serious. It all just creeps me out. Spooks me. Graces me with goosebumps.”

  “What does? What are you talking about?”

  “Watching you Mortals sleep,” she said, eyes glued to mine. “Watching you practice being dead for eight out of every twenty four hours. Doesn’t that terrify you? I haven’t slept a day in my entire existence, and yet you guys waste a third of your entire lives doing it. Again and again. Lying perfectly still? Deep long breaths?”

  Lis shivered. Slowly, the reality of her words crept into my ear like a fat tarantula. This wasn’t a joke. She was being serious. She was completely creeped out.

  “You’re kidding me. Lisistrathiel, Lesser Devil of Temptation, is afraid of sleeping people? That’s why y
ou watch me? Because you’re curious what it’s like to sleep?”

  “Technically I’m morbidly fascinated with what it’s like being dead and sleeping is the closest thing to being dead without actually dying, if you really want to nit pick.”

  “Don’t you just go back to Hell when you get killed or something?” I demanded.

  Lis shook her head. “Nope. Soul gets eradicated if I die here. Forever. Would happen to Abla too if he got offed. Here’s hoping.”

  “That’s. Wow.”

  Lis crossed her arms over her chest. “Happy?”

  Was I? I’d never seen her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. Behind those inhuman bronze eyes Lis was just as tiny and insignificantly Mortal as me. Human. It made me want to cry. It made me want to laugh.

  So I did laugh. Long and hard. Lis’ confession had me in hysterics.

  The she-devil in question however remained unamused. “First the creepy looks, now the laugh? I knew those Dagonians would be a bad influence on your mental well being.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what?”

  I grinned wickedly, “Lisistrathiel, I think I have a deal for you.”

  Chapter 54

  “Stop me if I’m remembering this wrong but isn’t one of the first things they teach you in Sunday school not to make deals with questionable entities?” Lis asked.

  Of course she was right, but I was certain she was secretly intrigued by all this. Who ever heard of a Mortal tempting a Devil with a deal? That’s what made this last, best plan of mine sure to work. It had to work. I had nothing else left.

  “Lisistrathiel, I offer you my soul. All of it. No fight, no tricks,” I said.

  “And in exchange you want me to make you really really good at the guitar or something?” Lis cheekily replied.

  “In exchange, I want you to give up being a Devil.”

  Lis stopped dead in her tracks. Molten bronze eyes, filled with disbelief, settled on me.

  “Don’t look so surprised. My mission is a mess. Not just the one with Gogol either. I, well, I don’t think I’m a good guy anymore,” I shrugged. “I fight, I cut off the heads of Supernaturals and asshole mages alike, and yet I don’t think I’d have done anything different if I was in Gogol’s shoes. Or even the Order or the Fairies for that matter. I’m just a hired thug, gleefully dancing atop the ‘thou shall not kill’ commandment like it’s going out of fashion.”