Followed by Fire

by McKenzie Austin

  Balvo stopped with her, his eardrums perking at her story. He let out a faint chuckle. “That’s… well, that’s incredibly macabre, my darling, but…” He shrugged. “I get it. I mean, look who you’re talking to.” The demon leaned over, trying to find her hiding eyes. “You’re preaching to the choir, here.”

  “Yes. I am.” Her brows furrowed as she faced him. “I may be a coward around the Brotherhood, Balvo, but I am no fool. Why did you guide me out of there?” She gestured back in the direction of the tavern. “Is that not what you wanted me to see? What you wanted me to feel?”

  Lifting an arm, Balvo unconsciously tugged at his ear. She was right. The realization made him uncomfortable. Esven Greenbriar was the first human he’d spent this much time with, without robbing or killing, in a long while. Much to his surprise, she was not as terrible as he had anticipated.

  It caught him off guard, seeing her so fearful back at the tavern. It wasn’t her terror that surprised him as much as it was his reaction to it. It was unsettling, almost… seeing her like that. A confident woman made vulnerable. Balvo slid his hand down to scratch at the side of his cheek. “Yes, well… I believe you said today wouldn’t count. That you’d give me another day.” He summoned a cool grin to his face and shrugged. “That constitutes a verbal contract. If you want to stretch out the time that we get to enjoy one another’s company, so be it.”

  His admission was a kind one. Esven felt some of the fear leave her bones. She coerced a small smile from somewhere inside her. The reprieve brought by Balvo’s statement was enough to convince her to start walking again.

  The two strode farther into town. Things were quiet. Stealing a glimpse of the fire demon from the corners of her eyes, Esven mulled over the days that they had spent together. Beneath his initial impression, Balvonak seemed… sympathetic. Almost. There was a weird kindness there, Esven thought. It may have been a drop in the ocean that was his personality, but it was there.

  One thing was for certain: he was not like the stories of the demons that her mother had told her about. Unless, of course, he had somehow been pulling the wool over her eyes the entire time.

  Something in her heart made her doubt that that was the case.

  As they treaded into the town square, with canopies throwing shadows over their bodies, Esven turned a curious expression to him. “Balvo… how did you become a—” She paused, surveying their environment to be sure no listening ears were nearby. “A demon?” she finished, her voice a hushed whisper.

  Balvonak smirked, but it was short-lived. A compulsory reaction. He hitched a shoulder, and kicked a small rock out of his way as they walked. It was a long time ago, but he remembered most of the details. More and more pieces became lost the longer that he lived as a demon. Each day brought him one step closer to becoming like those mindless beasts who clawed at the gate. But for now… he knew. “I wasn’t birthed in the Netherworld,” he explained. “Not like most demons.”

  Esven’s head tilted at his confession. “I did not know there was any other way to become a demon.”

  Bringing a hand to his forehead, Balvo rubbed it, remembering. “I was born human. A pretty bad one at that, by everyone’s standards.” His cocky expression faded away the more he recalled. “I… I hurt a lot of people. I could have been a good man, I think, but…” He shrugged and let out a short, breathy laugh. “I didn’t meet any. Hard to emulate something you don’t know exists.”

  The witch walked alongside him, listening in silence.

  Balvo shoved his hands into his pockets. “They didn’t see the potential in me. Marumon did, though.” He lifted his eyes to the sky and inhaled the sweet scent of oxygen. “After I died, he plucked my soul from the afterlife and made me a demon.”

  There was so little she knew about the demon nation. Esven bit her bottom lip, trying to make sense of everything. “So, you used to be a man…” she repeated, her expression twisting. “How is it, then, that you found yourself with a desire to destroy the human race?”

  Balvo double-checked that they hadn’t earned any eavesdroppers before he turned back to her. There was a strange look on his face. “I was a bad man, Esven. I did a lot of things that… things that most people wouldn’t brag about. It’s easy to see the forest for the trees.” The light in his eyes glazed over. He looked somewhere far away in that moment. “Especially when you’re one of the trees.”

  Esven clutched at her arm. Their life experiences had differed greatly, but they shared spikes of similarities. Circumstances had guided them to embrace varying sets of ethics. She wondered if the unreadable flicker she saw in Balvonak’s eyes was regret. “If you’re not proud of the things you’ve done,” she started, unsure if his belief system allowed him to do so, “could you not repent? To save your soul?”

  Balvo laughed. “Save it from what?” He shook his head, his boots scraping along the dirt beneath his feet as he walked. “Marumon’s no saint, but He’s the only one who ever saw something redeemable in me. I owe Him a big favor for what He did. Besides…” He paused long enough to hitch a shoulder. “Even if I had something to repent… which I don’t… you saw what happened when the priest touched me.”

  Esven stopped beside him, sliding her hair from her face. “From what little I understand of it, you needn’t touch a priest to be cleansed. You only need a holy man’s blessing from inside the light of the church.”

  Her statement made his laugh grow louder. “Do you really believe in that bullshit?”

  “It’s…” The witch paused, making a face. “I mean, I’m not a religious woman. But it must work for some people, if nearly all of Brigovia believes in it.”

  “Ah.” Balvo snorted, finding amusement in something Esven didn’t fully understand. “If you thought what your friend did to my chest was bad, you would shudder to see what happened if I actually stepped foot in a church.” His enjoyment fell away as he looked at her, his expression hardening. “Demons aren’t redeemable, Esven. We’re made to serve Marumon. The lucky ones find their way out of serving their time in the Netherworld, but at the end of the day, we’re all tied to the Demon Lord. There is no repentance. I don’t know if that’s because Marumon doesn’t want us to leave the Netherworld, or because His Brother doesn’t want us in His ‘holy paradise’, or both, but… that’s where I went when I died as a man…” He broke eye contact, glancing away. “And that’s where I’ll go when I die as a demon.”

  An unexpected wave of empathy filled her chest. “You found your way out once though,” Esven observed, noting that he’d somehow managed to free himself from the Netherworld. “Could you not just do it again?”

  Balvo cringed. He tilted his chin down and frowned. “No. There is no afterlife for demons. The end is just that. The end.”

  The witch’s chest tightened at the confession. Esven had much to learn about demons. Much to learn about humans, too. “If I knew more about the demon nation,” she started, “and the Twin gods… and all the things that my mother must have known…” Esven rubbed her arm and blew out her cheeks. “I would bet that I could conjure a way to redeem your soul.”

  “No.” Balvo dismissed her with the sharp, single word. “It would be a waste of time.”

  “It might not be. My magic isn’t at my mother’s skill level, but it could—”

  “It’s nothing to do with magical ability, Esven.” Balvonak faced her, his tone softening from the last words he spoke to her. His gaze darted back and forth between her eyes. “The universe doesn’t care whether you feel guilt following a sin or not. It only cares that you committed it.”

  She lost herself in his stare just then. When she looked at him before, she saw only the demon who wanted to punish mankind. There was so much more now. So many intricacies to dissect. Countless variables. In between all the malice he held for humans, hiding behind the sense of duty he felt to the Demon Lord, Marumon… there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Thank you,” she said, tugging absentminded
ly at her sleeve, “for what you did back there. With that man from the Brotherhood.”

  Balvo bowed his head, and when he lifted it back up, he wore one of his traditional, charming smiles. All the heaviness from their conversation had vanished. “Don’t mention it.”

  It was hard to look away from her. Each second that followed the last only made the act of breaking their eye contact more impossible. She was… tolerable. Better, even. Likeable. If Esven Greenbriar was anything like her mother, Balvo knew then why the demon nation favored Amadeia so highly.

  A stabbing realization followed his last thought.

  No. Esven was not a companion. She was a tool. A key. The very thing he needed to open the Netherworld’s gate, and earn his prize from Marumon. Her companionship was temporary.

  He needed to remember that.

  Balvo sucked in a quick gulp of air, unaware that he had been holding his breath, and cleared his throat. “We’re here,” he said, lifting an arm and gesturing forward.

  Struggling over the act of having to look away from him, Esven took a moment to follow his arm’s direction. Sitting on the opposite side of the road, the identifiable towers of the Pinesguard cathedral sat. The gray stone looked ethereal in the light of day. “The church?” she turned toward him, surprise on her face. “I know you told that man that we were going here back at the tavern, but honestly, this is the last place I thought you’d actually take me.”

  Balvonak shrugged, slicking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well… just don’t tell the priest that you’re about to help me open the Netherworld door.” He crossed his arms over his chest and winked. “Holy men aren’t too keen on that.”

  In the face of everything, Esven found herself laughing. “And what makes you think I’ll do that?”

  “Because…” Balvo spread his arms out at his sides and struck a charismatic pose. “You find me far too charming to resist.”

  The witch rolled her eyes and headed toward the building, ascending the steps up to the entrance. She gazed down at him, knowing full well he could not follow her inside. “Shall I meet you back at the Slumbering Rabbit, then?”

  Stretching his limbs up over his head, Balvo glanced at her with one open eye. “Come on.” He lowered himself into a sitting position near the steps. “I may be a demon, but I’m not a prick. I’ll wait for you here, as gentlemen do.”

  Esven couldn’t hide the smile that formed. She laid a hand over her stomach, hoping to settle the strange bundle of nerves that pulsed at his words. Reaching over to the knocker on the door, she seized it, letting it fall several times to summon whoever was inside.

  She had hoped, as Balvo hoped as well, that De’Savaria didn’t remain in the priest’s company. The only solace that she took was that she stood very near to the church. If trouble did arise, she knew she’d be safe in Elias’ temple.

  Relief washed over her when a familiar face filled the open door. Elias’ eyes widened at the sight of her and he reached out, grasping her arm in excitement. “Esven—you’re—” He halted, realizing the inappropriateness of his actions. Elias withdrew his hand immediately, curling his fingers into his palm. “It’s a great relief to see you unharmed.”

  “And you, my friend.” Esven smiled, reaching out to squeeze his forearm; a gesture that she hoped would ease him. “Is De’Savaria still inside?”

  “No.” Elias shook his head, glancing over her shoulders to see if he spied the man in the corners of the town square. “But he left not too long ago. You should come inside, where you’ll be safe.”

  Esven nodded, sneaking a final glimpse of Balvo, before she slipped inside the church’s doors. Elias tracked her gaze, finding the fire demon sitting at the bottom of the steps. The priest seemed to monitor Balvo, his eyes lingering particularly long on the spot where he’d touched his chest. Without a word, Elias offered the demon a nod of acknowledgement before he closed the door.

  Waiting. It was the bane of any living creature’s existence. Balvonak rested his chin in his palm, tapping a finger on his cheek. At least, if he was cursed to wait, he got to do so on the surface world. Things were much less suffocating up here. Less pressure constricting his ribs.

  Or was there?

  Balvo’s stomach spun. Favorable thoughts of Esven trickled into his brain. The longer he shared her company, the harder it was to keep her out of his head.

  The idea of manipulating her into sharing the same misanthropy that he had… of using her for her abilities and throwing her to the way-side after… it came with the same discomfort that dwelling in the Netherworld did. That same asphyxia. That familiar pressure.

  He tried to shake the thoughts away. Balvonak blew out a long-held breath, squeezing his hands around his ears. He couldn’t turn his back on Marumon. He owed the Demon Lord everything. The Netherworld’s god had wanted this for a long, long time, and for good reason. Balvonak shared Marumon’s disdain for men. They deserved everything that awaited them.

  But Esven… she wasn’t like the rest of them.

  A black specter captured the fire demon’s attention. Lifting his conflicted gaze from the dirt, he saw the creature, sitting at the bottom of the church’s steps. Balvo’s appearance shifted to one of greeting. “Long time no see,” he uttered to Maritimus. “What have you been up to?”

  The cat’s ears flattened on his skull. Fur bristled along his blackened tail.

  Balvo arched a brow. “What got into you?” he asked, sitting upright.

  A low hiss followed. The small, white fangs hiding in the animal’s mouth came into view when he peeled back his lips. Balvo narrowed his eyes, trailing after the feline’s gaze. He seemed to be staring at something in the center of town…

  Balvo’s stomach sank when he saw it. The focal point of Maritimus’ warning. There, standing on the opposite side of the street, wearing an unreadable grin on his face, was the last being that Balvonak wanted to see.

  Vahldod.

  The fellow demon lifted a hand, offering Balvo a charismatic wave from the distance that separated them.

  Balvonak clenched his jaw together, his eyes turning to steel. “Well… shit.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Balvonak had little time to prepare. He watched Vahldod weaved through the few people that scattered about the town. The demon’s mind raced, trying to think of proactive ways to remove himself from Vahldod’s presence, but nothing came to mind. Nothing that wouldn’t involve leaving Esven behind.

  With an expression that highlighted his boldness, Vahldod stepped up to Balvonak, stopping only several feet before him. He rocked on his heels, grinning as he shook his head and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Balvonak, Balvonak, Balvonak. You know, we really must stop running into one another like this.”

  In an attempt to suppress his nerves, Balvo matched Vahldod’s smirk. He was immediately skeptical. Something about the way Vahldod muttered his statement left Balvonak to believe his old friend had been trailing him for some time. “I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured.

  Vahldod glanced up, soaking in the sight of the grand towers that sat behind his acquaintance’s back. “Church, Balvo?” He arched a brow, chuckling. “I doubt that even Brigovia’s most talented priest could wipe your soul clean.”

  “What can I say?” Balvonak shrugged, wanting Vahldod to know nothing of the real reason he lingered outside holy doors. “The religious are generous to panhandlers.”

  Vahldod’s chuckle evolved into a short, yet full blown laugh. “Does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth?”

  Balvonak scowled. His lie did little to fool Vahldod. Of course it didn’t; Vahl was no simpleton. “Couldn’t say, old friend,” the fire demon mumbled. “I could bend over and let you ask it for yourself, if you also kiss it while you’re down there.”

  Amused, Vahldod shook his head, his enjoyment remaining in the form of a grin. “I see you found the Greenbriar child.”

  Against his best efforts, Balvonak flinched.
It seemed his apprehensions were true. How did Vahldod know? How long had he been watching them? In a last ditch attempt to recover his chances of getting rid of the unwanted demon, Balvo snorted. “That scrawny thing?” He thumbed behind him, in the direction of the church’s entrance. “You think that’s the progeny of the great witch, Amadeia?”

  Vahldod put on a pathetic, faux pout. “There you go again, trying to deceive me.” He laid a dramatic hand over his chest. “I’m hurt, Balvo. Really, I am.”

  His attempt had failed. Balvo surmised that it would, even before he had uttered it. It was near impossible to fool Vahldod; the demon’s skill set was high. It was those very skills that had helped him crawl out of the prison that was the Netherworld. The very skills that Balvonak had emulated to ensure his own freedom from the heated land beneath Brigovia’s surface.

  The time for bullshit had ended. Balvonak inclined his chin, his expression uncompromising. “I’ve already got a handle on things. Marumon’s wishes will come to fruition soon enough.”

  “Now, now,” Vahldod replied, his voice as smooth as river rocks, “nothing is set in stone yet.”

  His tone. Balvonak knew it well. Vahldod’s relentless thirst for competition made him a threat. Particularly given the value of the prize they vied for. Balvonak tried to think ahead without removing his eyes from Vahldod’s—he did not want to offer the demon any glimpses of weakness.

  He reminded himself that Esven was safe as long as she remained in the church. Not even Vahldod could decipher a way to get in there unharmed. But Esven wouldn’t lie in wait there forever. She couldn’t. Balvo needed her to come out at some point, if he was to get her to break the seal on the Netherworld’s door.