by Sam Cheever
“When my mother discovered she was going to have me, she knew that she would keep me. She was risking much by that decision. Up there...” his head jerked skyward, “they had expectations that any angel spy who found herself in that position would take her own life rather than bring a halfling bastard into the world. My mother loved me even before I pulled my first breath into lungs that were half angel and half devil. Half good and half evil...”
He jerked away from me and started to pace again. I sat on the back of the divan and waited.
“Anyway, shortly after I was born Nerul threatened to have me killed. My father managed to talk him out of it somehow. I’m not sure how or why, but we were allowed to leave the court. For years we were left alone. We lived as outcasts but we somehow never found ourselves in need of anything. I think my mother’s influence was good for my father. He was gentle with me and kind to her.”
Emo turned to me with haunted, angry eyes. Once again, his head jerked upward angrily, “They rejected her. It was the only thing that caused her pain during that time away from the court.”
His gaze was so intense it took my breath away. I didn’t know what to say to him. I just nodded and Emo resumed his angry pacing.
“When I was ten years old, Nerul came to us and demanded that we return to the court. My father resisted but Nerul said something about paying a debt that was owed and we eventually returned. Nothing was ever the same for us after that.”
Emo suddenly sagged with exhaustion. Moving around the divan, he sat down across from me again and, resting his elbows on his knees, covered his face with his hands.
“My mother was taken away from us and given to Nerul’s favorite courtier, who was easily the cruelest member of the court at that time. He wasted no opportunity to torture and abuse her. My father became a recluse. He left his chambers only when Nerul demanded it of him and that was generally to make certain my father had to watch my mother being tortured and degraded.
“I learned to hate Nerul at a very tender age. But as he’d brought me out of my father’s chambers and into his own, I was tied to him in a way that made it impossible for me to escape his attentions. As with my mother, he wasted no opportunity to abuse me.
“But then one day Nerul came to me and announced that I was to begin my training to join the court. I couldn’t believe it. Up until that time he’d only ranted to me about my unsuitability for anything having to do with the court. Despite that, within days I was being schooled in my powers and was learning court history...Nerul’s version of course.”
Emo looked at me and I smiled. His return smile was sad and bitter.
“Nerul knew how to reach the heart of a young devil buck. He introduced me to the carnal delights of the court and, like my father, I relished them. I was golden and long limbed and could choose nearly any woman I wanted, on the court or off. It was heady stuff.
“Over time I began to lose my distaste for Nerul and even started defending him to my father. I never talked of him to my mother though. I was never that far gone. It would have killed her to know how he’d corrupted me. Looking back now, I think that was what he wanted from the first. I believe it is why he allowed us to live quietly and happily for those early years. He knew we would grow close and feel safe. And then he could drag us back and prove to everyone that he was powerful enough to corrupt even a halfling. The fact that my corruption would destroy my mother was an added bonus I think.” Emo sighed and shook his head.
“Eventually, without realizing what a mistake it would turn out to be, Nerul demanded something of me that would remove me permanently from his sphere of influence. It was probably the only thing that he could have done to push me completely away by then, I was so sunk into his terrible universe.”
Emo looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were contemplating something he’d never thought of before. “I don’t think he ever imagined that I would choose another over him at that point.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “What did he do?”
“He demanded that I kill my mother to prove my loyalty to him.”
I gasped and his black gaze sought my face. “He killed them Astra, because I wouldn’t destroy the one person who had shown me love and taught me why I should be good. He slaughtered them both before my eyes and laughed as I cried. I’ve hated him with my soul’s passion since that day.”
I watched him but said nothing, knowing he wasn’t finished.
Emo gave a bitter laugh. “King Nerul made me what you see today, Astra. He made me a monster because I refused to become monstrous like him and give up my soul.”
I gulped audibly. “You were cursed?”
Emo raised his hands, palms up and stood before me. “This handsome package, my sweet Astra, is a gift from my loving king.” As he said it his lips curled with hate. “It is only the memory of my gentle mother that has kept me from tearing him into little pieces for what he did. And her tender cells within this stinking leather carcass.”
I just sat there for a long time after Emo left. I couldn’t believe the story he’d told me, mostly because I hadn’t known that Emo would keep that kind of information about his life secret from me. Obviously he wasn’t proud of his past, but not much of it was actually his fault. I suddenly realized that he’d been right when he’d said that he and I had a lot in common, we’d both grown up with different expectations than those we had now. Our lives had been changed for us. We really hadn’t had much control.
Before I could bury myself too much more deeply in “woe is me” shtick, something shimmered into view on the edge of my vision. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Good or evil? Heaven or Hell? The way my luck had been running, I was pretty sure I’d turn around and find a whole gaggle of gargoyles standing there drooling on my rug. Imagine my relief when the scent of spring flowers engulfed me. I opened my eyes and tried on a weary smile. “Hey, Myra.”
She just sat down on the other end of the divan and stared at me with those impossibly blue eyes. Under the onslaught of her angelic, if a bit angry, gaze I fell apart. I cried like I hadn’t cried since I’d been a tiny little testicle buster. Like I hadn’t done since I’d grown into a slightly larger ball breaking demon hunting super woman.
Myra produced a beautiful, lace-edged silver square of cloth from a hidden niche in her wispy robes and handed it to me. I took it gladly and promptly drenched it. “Thanks.”
“Emo’s story hurt you.” She said it simply, without the usual window dressing of an understanding expression and a comforting shoulder. She knew that was how I wanted it. It wasn’t often that tough little me broke down and I was trying really hard to pull it together. Any gentle comfort from her would have destroyed my hard-won composure again.
When it appeared that I had it under control she asked, “What scares you the most, Astra?”
I shrugged, refusing to look at her. “He’s my friend, I can’t believe what he’s been through that’s all.”
Myra continued to drill me with those eyes. “Uhm hmm.”
I risked an angry glance in her direction. “It’s true.”
“I guess the fact that you’re having dreams about Prince Dialle and discovering that, somehow, you’ve got royal powers has nothing to do with your current state?”
While I silently wondered how much she knew and how she knew it, I chose to view the question as rhetorical and didn’t respond.
After a moment she rose to her feet and looked down at me. “At least now you understand what kind of evil you’re up against. Nerul must be stopped.”
I looked up in surprise as her words sank in. “Are you telling me the Angel Council is on Dialle’s side in this war?”
Myra made a dismissive gesture. “We don’t take sides in that quarter, Astra, you know that.”
“Yes, but in this you are. Why?”
Myra narrowed those beautiful blues at me and started to shimmer. Her voice floated toward me as her body dissolved from view. “I think you know why, Astra.”
>
And then she was...just...gone. Leaving me feeling more confused and lost than I’d been before she’d come. And I realized, not for the first time, that my life was becoming a really bad one act play, filled with really bad actors. And I was standing up on the stage, the Lone Ranger, wearing my goofy white hat and some funny looking leather things on my legs. And the bad guys had eaten my horse Tonto. And the Indians had long fangs and big claws and they would have eaten me too, except that they thought I was one of them. But I wasn’t. I was supposed to conquer them and save the good guy. But I didn’t know where the good guy was. Or even who he was. Where the hell was I s’posed to go with that plot? I mean, I’m good. Damn good. But nobody’s that good are they? Don’t answer that. Shit.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Now, About that Prince?
When one is thought to have no soul, how does his soul distress?
With slings and arrows fit for kings, young princes can be pressed.
When I got to my office the next morning, Emo wasn’t there. I was a little concerned about that, but not overly anxious. I knew my partner well enough to know he would deal with his pain in his own way and in his own time. He would come to me when he was ready.
I flung my coat onto its usual resting place and sat down behind an overflowing desk. Basically, because of all of my comings and goings with devils, demons and angel councils, I hadn’t had time to go through my paper correspondence for several days. I gave a self-pitying sigh and started plowing through it with vengeance. A few hours later, I uncovered a large package from a dead guy. Deaver had evidently requested something to be sent to me upon his death.
I opened the fat, yellow envelope and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. On the top was a letter.
Dear Mx. Phelps,
If you are reading this letter I am dead. I am sure you have figured out that I did not die of natural causes. For the last several weeks, my life has not been my own. I am caught up in a galactic mess of a situation that has the extreme possibility of changing the course and future of the human race. I am at a loss, which is why I’ve called on you. Nothing in my experience has prepared me for the predicament I have found myself in.
First of all, let me tell you that there is no Advocate. I told you that to get you to help me. I have been stung instead by my inclinations toward making an unholy alliance. The devil I mentioned to you when we spoke does exist. He and his kind have allowed me to live in the Church if I would help them when they required it. At first their needs were small. They asked for particular pieces of personal information about my cult members and I, admittedly knowing the black marks against my soul this cooperation would cause, gave it to them because I lusted for the power they allowed me through their support.
But now, they have asked me for more than I can provide. They have brought a young man here and imprisoned him in the church tower. He is very young and frightened and I fear for his life. We have spent time talking when his captors were not around. He has told me that he was betrayed and that the royal court plans to destroy his soul in retaliation for something of which he is only dimly aware. Either he is genuinely unaware or reluctant to tell me. I am planning to find a way to release him at the earliest opportunity, but he is imprisoned inside a circle of crosses that have been touched by royal powers. His prison is secure.
I have been studying their ways and powers in an attempt to learn how to breach the prison and I think I’ve made a breakthrough. But lately I have felt an evil aura in the air around me and the one who brought the young prince to me has looked at me with a new coldness in his terrifying eyes. I begin to fear for my life. I need your help.
If I have been killed, you must find the young prince and release him for me. You are his last hope. Save him, and maybe my soul will rest, despite my godless treacheries.
I have enclosed the name of my personal assistant. She has probably gone underground and you will have trouble finding her because she will be spooked by my death. She can help you. You must find her.
Also, enclosed in this packet is a check for your services. It is everything I have and is nothing compared to what my deeds have cost others. But I am trusting your good reputation as an honest creature to take the funds and perform the task I have requested. Please don’t fail me, I beg you.
Someone comes.
In Him,
Alexis Deaver, Cultist
I dropped the letter on top of the other papers and put my weary head in my hands. Could things get any more complicated? On top of everything else, I was being hired by a dead guy to find some devil prince who was presumably Nerul’s son and who had apparently been imprisoned at the church by Dialle. I now had several parties who were expecting me to find answers. But so far all I had were questions.
Where was the young prince now? Had he escaped? Was he still in his prison in the tower at the Church of the Twined Hands? Or had he been sprung from there the night Deaver was killed?
More importantly, why hadn’t I pursued a career as a hair stylist?
I had three clients on the current case, all wanting me to represent their individual interests, all opposing in nature. How in Hades was I gonna pull that off? The short answer was, I wasn’t. There was no frunkin’ way.
“Okay,” I said to myself as I felt desperation taking over, “I need a plan.” I placed my palm over the Identi-pad on my information unit and it hissed to life. Standing up to pace, I started dictating. When I was done about thirty minutes later I had something to start with and felt better.
My first task was to try to locate the assistant. With that goal in mind I turned to my televisual and said, “Transmission. DD Raoul.” A few seconds later, his dark, exhausted face swam into view on the screen.
“Pretty Astra. You’re sure a crashin’ lot better to look at than these holograms of last night’s victims I’ve been starin’ at all day.”
I smiled and, as usual, my heart went out to him. He was a good man with a really terrible job and he did it with as much class and passion as he could muster up. “Please tell me you haven’t had any more trouble with the you-know-whats that you and I discussed at the Church of the Twined Hands last week.”
His face crumpled into a frown. “Unfortunately, yes. I have.”
I allowed an eyebrow to peak in surprise. “You want to meet?”
His frown smoothed into a smile. “Always. Where and when?”
“How about midnight, at Darla’s?”
“Darla’s it is. I’m lookin’ forward to it, Astra. You’ll never know how much.”
He faded away on a sad smile. I walked away from the blank screen and grabbed my coat. If I was going to meet Raoul at Darla’s at midnight, I had plenty of time to visit the church before going home to change. I figured I had to at least check out the prison in the tower Deaver had written about. I was pretty sure Prince Nille wouldn’t be there, but maybe I’d find something that would lead me to him.
I had the door open but didn’t quite make it out before Myra shimmered into the room. Biting back my impatience, I closed the door again. “Hey, angel. What’s flyin’?”
Myra lifted an eyebrow and turned away. “Coffee. Your office.”
I bit back a snarl and moved into the tiny food service area that I had installed in a windowless corner of the office. Moving quickly, I punched in an order for one cup of strong, black coffee and carried it to her. To show her that I was in a hurry I didn’t sit down behind my desk. I hovered near the door and watched her sip the coffee and then close her eyes on a satisfied sigh. “I’d almost go to hell for coffee.” Her eyes flew open as she realized what she’d said. She raised her blue orbs toward the sky and murmured quickly, “Just a figure of speech of course, no blasphemy intended.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and scowled at her. “I was just heading out, Myra. What did you need?”
She ignored me as she took another sip. Finally she looked up and smiled. I felt my skin crawl. “I know I don’t want to hear thi
s.”
She laughed. “You’re always so cynical, it isn’t one of your more attractive traits.”
“Bite me.”
Myra’s smile faded a bit but her eyes sparkled. She loved to irritate me and she was so good at it.
“Well?” I tapped my foot and glared at her. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, what?”
“Dammit, Myra!”
She stood and reluctantly set the coffee cup down. Then she moved toward me with a smile. “I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
I felt my blood turn cold. “Fetch me?”
“Yes.” She reached for me and I jumped away. “I don’t want to be fetched right now, I have work to do.”
Myra stood glaring at me with her hands on her hips. She reminded me of my mother. I half expected her to use my full name in that way that told me I was in deep shit. “I see. Well in that case.” She shimmered away.
I stood there staring into space for a minute. If I was completely honest with myself I’d have to admit I felt a bit guilty about being so obstinate. Then I realized that was probably exactly the reaction she’d been going for and I cursed her for being devious.
With my annoyance restored, I turned toward the door...and ran smack into my angel. She giggled and placed her hand on my head. The distant pinprick of light reared up before my eyes as the world shimmered around me. The worst part was that, since I couldn’t move, I spent the entire time it took to shimmer into council chambers staring in stupid surprise at my sneaky damn angel.
When we met the light and I could speak again, I let loose a string of foul curses that would have embarrassed even the tacky, degenerate company I usually found myself keeping. After one particularly unfortunate string of obscenities, Myra, scowling, asked me if I was finished.
“I’ll tell you when I’m finished, you sneaky, damnable, slithering demon from the wrong side of the spiritual tracks...” I stopped when my angel cast her eyes meaningfully toward the front of the room, where I finally realized the entire council waited, with celestial mouths hanging open, to provide me audience. I swallowed the rest of my dialogue and tried a weak smile. “Hey.”
