The Demon Behind Me

by Christopher Nelson

  “Exactly. It takes more precision, but the principle is the same.”

  Tink shook her head. “What about portals the demons can open themselves? I remember them having ways to Purgatory without needing imps to open them.”

  The Chairman clicked his tongue. “What do you think Purgatory is?”

  “The sea,” I said. “That’s what lies between worlds. That’s why sometimes we travel through it when we go through a portal. But how does it feel solid when we go there if it’s basically nothing?”

  “Some areas of the sea are denser than others.” The Chairman nodded toward me. “And some areas are dense enough we cannot move through it at all. To you, it would feel solid. So, in some places, we tore through the boundary directly to a certain area of extreme density, The Gate of Purgatory. Its density kept the portals from sealing. The density of the region around the Gate kept us from traveling beyond Earth’s nexus, except for one satellite nexus, our home. Think of it as an iceberg large enough to exert gravity. Any path straying too close would strike it or be deflected away.”

  “That’s why you didn’t want us to force the Gate.”

  “If it had been forced open, the iceberg would have exploded.” The Chairman brought his hands together, then pulled them sharply apart. “The resulting tsunami would have struck the nexus for Earth, as well as our own home. Any point of weakness in the boundary would have torn. Wherever the waves touched would have simply become Purgatory. It would have taken years for the boundary to stabilize afterwards. I cannot say if the planet would even have survived.”

  Everything was making more sense now. “So we opened it the correct way and the iceberg melted instead of blowing up. No tsunami, just a gentle ripple.” The Chairman nodded again and kept his eyes on me. “So, new paths opened up. In fact, it opened up a new nexus. Travel between it and Earth became possible. It’s where the Horsemen were locked up. When it was safe to leave, they came to visit.”

  “Why’d they wait almost two years?” Tink asked.

  I looked to the Chairman. “It took time for the paths between Earth and their nexus to become stable.”

  “Then we opened the Gates to Heaven and Hell. Those were blocking the routes to those nexuses,” I finished the story.

  “Very good, Marquis,” the Chairman said. “You have a grasp on the concept. To return to the original point, I believe the humans will learn how to identify the same boundary weaknesses we do. Purgatory does not care who passes through it. The boundary is the same for everyone. You could learn how to discover weaknesses and tear through it. We have always discouraged attempts to do so, of course.”

  “Of course,” Opheran murmured. He tapped his fingers together and looked lost in thought. “So the mages will learn how to come through, given enough time. How much time do you think we have, Chairman?”

  The elder imp shook his head. “Ten years at most.”

  “That’s all?” I felt a sudden chill. Ten years wouldn’t be anywhere near enough time to defend ourselves if the mages came through to Hell. It would barely be enough time to become self-sufficient.

  “At most,” the Chairman repeated.

  We all fell silent. Opheran was still lost in thought at his end of the table. Caleb had leaned back and closed his eyes. Tink was playing around with her knife like usual, but I could tell she was reviewing a list of magic spells in her mind to see if she could figure out how to open portals herself. Becky was looking down at her smartphone. She had checked out midway through the Chairman’s explanation.

  Caleb finally stood up. “Chairman, would you please open a portal to Heaven for me?”

  “Certainly.” The imp fluttered back into the air.

  “I will speak with Bartholomew,” Caleb said as the imp flew toward the back yard. “He is the most likely of the Seraphic Council to listen.”

  Opheran stirred and grinned. “It will be nice to see him again,” he said while cracking his knuckles.

  The angel smiled briefly before turning the corner. A couple of minutes later, the Chairman reappeared. “Is there anything you’d like to ask without the angel present?” he asked.

  “Souls,” I said.

  The imp turned to me and grinned from ear to ear. “Ah, yes. The souls of the deceased. Have you ever wondered if demons and angels have souls? The answer may surprise you.”

  Opheran and I exchanged surprised looks. “I had always assumed so,” I said. “I mean, at worst I have half a soul, right?”

  “You do have souls,” the imp confirmed. “But your expressions were well worth the question. Death ejects the soul through the boundary, into Purgatory. A nexus is a beacon of life which draws souls to it, but a soul by itself does not have the metaphorical weight to pierce the boundary.”

  “Project Purgatory,” Opheran said. He sat straight upright. “Is it possible to use it now?”

  The imp shook his head. “Your entire race focusing their collective will and magic could not pull a single soul through. Nor could the angels.”

  Opheran slumped back. “It would have won the entire war for us.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tink said. “Souls from Earth head toward Heaven or Hell, right? So those worlds have rings of souls just hanging around?”

  The Chairman nodded. “They travel Purgatory and orbit the nexus they desire. Sometimes, a soul may finally grow heavy enough to fall through the boundary of the living world and live again. The Gates of Purgatory and Ascension held back millions, perhaps billions of souls.”

  “So we could theoretically reincarnate as an angel or demon?” Tink glared at me and I threw my hands up. “That’s kind of a sick idea.”

  “Or as any other living creature,” the Chairman said.

  “You could be the most beautiful butterfly in Heaven,” I said to Tink.

  “Don’t piss me off right now.”

  “How is that pissing you off? You love butterflies!”

  “Just shut up.”

  Before we could really get into a good fight, an archon phased into sight next to the Chairman. “I bear a message from Dominion Caleb DeMarco,” it announced cheerfully. “The Most Honorable Seraph Bartholomew has agreed to meet with High Prince Opheran. He will arrive shortly.” The archon’s blue glow dimmed and its voice lowered an octave. “Caleb also said he agreed far more quickly than expected.”

  “Great,” I said. “My trap sense is tingling.”

  Opheran shook his head. “I trust Caleb would be more explicit if something was wrong. Please be on your best behavior.”

  “When am I not?”

  I heard the back door open before anyone could make too many comments about my behavior. Caleb led the way, Bartholomew following him, another archon floating over his shoulder. Opheran rose to greet him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, Seraph.”

  Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed as he sat down opposite Opheran. “What do you want, High Prince?” he asked. Caleb sat down next to him. “Let’s dispense with all the pleasantries and get to the point. I have duties to attend to.” His bluntness was a little alarming. Angels usually insisted on tradition and ceremony wherever they could find an excuse.

  Opheran sat down before answering. “I’m sure Caleb gave you a summary.”

  “Yes. You want to arrange a summit meeting to amend the Pact, and you require the agreement of one of our signatories to reach the needed majority.” Bartholomew folded his hands and leaned forward. “What do you want to amend, why do you want to amend it, and what is the benefit for the Choir?”

  Opheran mirrored his posture. “We want to remove the clause about keeping secrets from humanity. It’s no longer necessary and it causes unnecessary difficulty for all of us, especially the Consortium and Syndicate.”

  The Seraph glanced at the archon floating with him. I assumed it was the Chairman of the Syndicate. “Why? They don’t enforce the clause. What good would striking it do now?”

  “It would me
an they can’t decide to selectively enforce it and fuck us over if they chose to.”

  The archon flickered red for a moment. Bartholomew laughed. “Don’t be absurd. Your imps might, but the Syndicate would not. This amendment does not benefit the Choir in the least and you know it. What else is there?”

  Opheran smiled. “A clause acknowledging our shared heritage would be added. It’s time both our people openly accept the fact.”

  “We already know it. Putting it in writing doesn’t mean much. Don’t waste my time. What’s your real goal?”

  “A clause calling upon our shared heritage to stand together against any external existential threat to both our people.”

  Bartholomew smiled back across the table. “I see. You are going to lose to the humans and want us to save you. Let me save you time: no.”

  “We have information that may change your response. Chairman, if you would?” Opheran asked.

  The Chairman summarized why he believed humans would be able to create their own portals within a decade. As he spoke, Bartholomew’s smile faded into a tight line. When the imp was done, he looked to the archon. “Do you agree with the Consortium?”

  “We agree with the assessment of our colleagues.” The archon’s response came immediately. Either they could do the math on the fly, or they had already considered the scenario. “Furthermore, we have calculated probability estimates. The tenth percentile is six months from now. The fiftieth percentile is six years from now. Ten years is the ninety-fifth percentile. It is an optimistic figure.”

  “You’re telling us there’s a ten percent chance they could figure it out within a year?” Opheran’s surprise was evident in his voice.

  Bartholomew leaned back in the chair, his earlier smile completely gone. “Do you believe this, Caleb?”

  “Yes, sir. Knowing what I do of humans, I might even call the Syndicate’s estimates conservative. Kane is a dangerous, driven man. He could order the Conclave to focus on that goal to the exclusion of all other considerations.”

  The Seraph leaned forward again. “I will be candid with you. A decade would not be enough for our people. We will not be recovered from the Second War for at least twenty years, and even recovery would be no guarantee of victory.”

  “I will be equally candid with you. A hundred years of preparation would not guarantee victory,” Opheran said. “We both know it, Seraph. They can lose a dozen mages for each one of us, and until the raid on their Antarctic base, they were far exceeding that rate. The Host is uniting at last, but the turning point is already behind us. We will lose, slowly and surely. Even if your people hold the line, once we’re gone, the entire Conclave comes down on you. Game over for both of our races.”

  “There are many among our people who would call it a victory.”

  “Are you among them?”

  “No.” I grinned. Bartholomew was an ass, but he wasn’t an idiot. The Seraph tapped on the table. “I will agree to this summit, but my conditions must be met first.”

  “Name them.”

  “The Choir will host the summit in Heaven. Your Host will come as petitioners to our people.”

  Opheran shrugged. “As long as you grant our people safe conduct for the event, I see no problem.”

  “You will make a concession to the Choir of your choice.” The Seraph held a second finger in the air. “Your Host must placate our people in some manner, or your third amendment will not pass. This I can guarantee.”

  “I will discuss it with the other Houses, but I believe we can come up with something. Anything else?”

  The Seraph’s gaze turned to me, then to Tink. “The mage girl will chair the summit. While she is closer to your people than mine, Caleb trusts her, and his trust will carry weight with the Choir. She is as close to a neutral party as we can get.”

  “What the fuck?” Tink spluttered. “Me?”

  Opheran glanced at her. “If she’s acceptable to the Choir, she’s acceptable to the Host.”

  “Do I get a choice in this?” she demanded.

  “Caleb and Isaiah will co-chair,” Bartholomew added. “It would be a strong symbol for the Gatekeepers to stand together.”

  “Of course.”

  “The Choir will precede the Host in all formalities.”

  “As you have agreed to host this summit, of course.”

  Bartholomew’s smile slowly returned. “You will compensate the Choir for the time and cost of hosting this summit on such short notice.”

  Opheran showed his first crack. “We can negotiate acceptable compensation.”

  “You will provide hostages for your people’s good behavior.”

  “The Consortium and Syndicate will guarantee good behavior.” Opheran’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t get too carried away. You’re moving from conditions to demands.”

  “Very well.” The Seraph stood up abruptly. “I agree to the request for a summit meeting between our people. We shall host it twenty-four hours from now. The Consortium and Syndicate will handle the logistics of bringing the Host through, under a flag of safe conduct, of course.”

  Opheran stood as well. “Very well. Do the Consortium and Syndicate acknowledge this as valid under the Pact?”

  “We do,” the imp and archon said in unison.

  “Then I shall be returning to Heaven to begin preparations. Dominion, you will assist me.” Bartholomew swept from the room, angel and archon following him without a backwards glance.

  I looked to Opheran. “We’re heading to Hell ourselves,” he said. “Chairman, I need to get all the High Princes together in a sequestered session. I’ll talk to House Lucifer myself, but could you collect the rest?”

  “Certainly, High Prince. I will send another one of my people to open the portal for you at your convenience.” The Chairman flicked out of sight.

  I still had some unanswered questions about how they could travel freely. Becky still looked bored, but I could sense Tink’s inner turmoil. “You all right?” I asked.

  “I never agreed to this!” she protested.

  “It’s just standing up in front of both Councils and making sure everyone follows the agenda.”

  “I don’t like public speaking!”

  “Don’t be such a coward.” I grinned at her as she whirled at me, knife in hand.

  Before she could stab me, another imp phased into sight over the table. I gasped. “Kibs?”

  “Christ, Zay, what the hell happened to me?” He gestured at his lower half. The imp’s legs were still missing just above where his knees were, but he could still fly, float, and bitch. “I get a few good peeks at Sweetcheeks here and there, a couple handfuls of ass, and all of a sudden I’m trying to save her life? Was I drunk? Please tell me I was drunk.”

  “Kibs!” Becky’s shout of pure happiness was something I’d never heard before. She reached out to the floating imp and grabbed him, pulling him directly into her chest and hugging him tight. “I’m so glad. I’m so glad.”

  “Holy shit, I’m gonna suffocate here!” The imp’s voice was muffled, but happy. “God damn, did your tits get bigger again?”

  “Again?” Tink and I asked at the same time.

  Becky finally released the imp. “No one would tell me how you were doing. I didn’t know if you survived. I’m happy to see you’re all right.”

  He floated around unsteadily in midair. “Yeah, I could tell.”

  “This is a touching reunion,” Opheran said. “But, forgive me for asking duty of you at a time like this.”

  “Yeah, yeah, portal to Hell, I got you all covered.” Kibs fluttered toward the back yard. “Come on. I’ll be back once I’m done, Becks. We’ll catch up.”

  “Becks?” Tink and I echoed each other again.

  “Unless you would like to visit Hell,” Opheran said. Becky’s eyes widened. “You’ve done enough favors for my House. If you’d like to come with us, you are certainly welcome.”

  “The tourist at
tractions are not great,” I said.

  “It’s not every day a girl can say she’s actually been to Hell and back,” Becky said. “I accept the invite.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Unprecedented,” Caleb said for what seemed like the eightieth time since we had pulled this together. I stood next to him, both of us decked out in full regalia. House Asmodeus didn’t really have a dress uniform, or any uniform at all, but I managed to get a nice suit and tie to fit me. “I can’t believe you talked anyone into this.”

  I grinned and tugged at my collar. “Let’s just get this over with before anyone kills anyone else.”

  “No one’s killing anyone,” Tink said firmly. She grabbed both of our arms and gave mine a squeeze. Her dress was rose pink and her hair was up, both courtesy of my mother showing up at our doorstep this morning. Trust a succubus to know fashion. “This is a nice, peaceful summit meeting. Never mind the fact you’ve been at war for thousands and thousands of years. We’re giving peace a chance today, right?”

  We stood outdoors in what looked like a hastily thrown together amphitheater. In the center, two semi-circles of tables faced each other. The seats of the amphitheater were filling, with half of the seats reserved for demons, the other half for angels. “I’m glad we did this in Heaven,” I said. “Hell’s weather wouldn’t cooperate. Besides, your people are a little better at aesthetics. The gardens on the way were a nice touch.”

  “Thank you.” Caleb stiffened as a trumpet sounded. He stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat. “Please rise for the entrance of the Seraphic Council of the Angelic Choir,” he intoned.

  As one, the angels rose. I imagined I could hear their heels click together. I was the only demon who stood. Seven angels in dress uniform filed through the entrance and stood behind their chairs. I caught Bartholomew’s eyes and nodded to him, a gesture he barely returned. When they were all in place, I replaced Caleb at the podium. “Please welcome the High Princes of the Infernal Host.”

  Angels sat and a few demons rose, some clapped, most did nothing. The High Princes of each House mirrored the Seraphic Council and stood behind their chairs. Once each of them were in place, I stepped back and let Tink take her place at the podium, nudging a step into place so she could actually see over it. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, clear and bright. “Signatories of the Pact. Under the auspices of the Celestial Syndicate and Malefic Consortium, as an agreed upon neutral party, I hereby declare myself as chair for this summit meeting. I thank the Angelic Choir for their generosity in hosting this historic summit on such short notice. Please, let’s all be seated.”