by Vox Day
Brien was whistling happily and there was a spring in his step as he walked up the steps to Derek’s front door. It opened just as he was about to ring the doorbell, and he was surprised to see Derek standing there with a wickedly sharp knife in his hand.
“Whoa,” he said, placing his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”
“Are you whistling what I think you’re whistling?” Derek asked suspiciously. “Because if you are, I just might have to gut you with this thing.”
What was I whistling? How should I know? It’s not like you whistle something on purpose, you just do it!
Brien tried to think what song the little melody had come from, but when he couldn’t, he licked his lips and whistled a few bars again. A moment later, both he and Derek burst out laughing.
“Spice Girls?” his friend said dubiously. He turned the knife around and offered it to Brien, hilt-first. “Here, I think you’ll be wanting this.”
“No, suicide’s too good for me!”
Brien ran his finger across the edge of the blade. It was a military-style knife with a black, rubber handle, it was a big, evil-looking thing that made you want to strap it to your leg.
“What’s up with this? Couldn’t find the pizza cutter?”
“No, not at all,” Derek had an eager look of anticipation on his face. “But I’m glad you came over, I was hoping you’d make it before dark.”
He pushed Brien backward, and then stepped out of the house himself, closing the door behind him. He led Brien towards the back of the house, where the Wallace’s had their swimming pool, patio and stone fire circle. It was an excellent setup for summer barbeques, unfortunately, he and Derek weren’t popular enough to throw a party, although Derek’s parents were known to throw a massive shindig every now and then. But maybe all that would change now that he was seeing Tessa, in a way. Certainly Mandy and Jennifer had been nicer to him than they’d ever been before. He grinned at the thought of seeing Tessa all tan and oiled up with sunscreen, lounging next to him by the pool.
“What are you so giddy about?” Derek asked suddenly as they walked around the side of the big house.
“Tessa met me at the mall to pick out my tux,” he said, and then he blushed. “She, well, she kissed me afterwards.”
“And you are happy,” Derek said mockingly with his fake German accent. “Like a little girl!”
But he slapped Brien on the shoulder to congratulate him all the same. He knew what a big deal it was to Brien, and it wasn’t necessary for either of them to say anything more. Brien was glad he didn’t; it would have embarrassed him.
As they walked onto the tiled patio by the shallow end of the swimming pool, Brien realized that Derek had set up a bunch of white candles inside the circle of stones. They were actually set up in the shape of a pentagram, he realized, with a small pile of kindling in the middle. There were also two circles of white stuff surrounding the rocks. Sitting on top of one of the big, flat-topped stones that made up the circle was a bottle of cheap Australian Merlot that Brien recognized as coming from Mr. Wallace’s wine cellar.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “What are you trying to do, play magician?”
“Sort of,” Derek admitted. “I got kind of bored when I was messing around on the Web today, so I started digging through that Necronomicon site I told you about before. They actually had a page all about this Shalmaneser guy. There wasn’t anything about the stuff the professor translated for us, but it turns out that his sign is this!”
Derek pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and pointed to the eye in the pyramid.
“The all-seeing eye, the eye of Horus, whatever. Anyhow, I figured, let’s burn the blood and the wine like it says, and see what happens? I mean, we don’t believe in any of this crap for real, but it would be so cool if it was, I just thought we should try it for kicks, you know?”
Don’t even think about it, a small voice protested from somewhere deep inside him, but Brien paid it no attention. Why not give it a whirl. Brien knew better than to believe in black magic, or any other kind of supernatural B.S., but he had to admit that the idea of it did hold a certain fascination for him. He was like Mulder, in a way. He wanted to believe. He wanted to believe in something beyond this everyday life in the suburbs, something better, or at least different. In a way, he wanted the Nottambuli to be real. He wished he could strike fear, not into imaginary vampires, but real assholes who got off on treating everyone like shit.
“Sure, it can’t do any harm,” he concluded aloud. “Except, didn’t you say something about blood?”
Derek only chuckled at him.
“So whose?”
“Ours.”
Brien nodded slowly, then sighed as he glanced at the knife’s wicked edge again.
“I knew you were going to say that. So, what do we do, just set the stuff on fire?”
Derek shook his head.
“No, I think the thing to do is to combine the instructions from the translation with this Conjuration of the Beholder deal.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “See, it says the Beholder comes from a race that isn’t human, but he doesn’t seem to be a god either. I’m figuring if it works for this Beholder, it should work for our Assyrian dude, as long as we put the right stuff in the bowl.”
“What bowl?
“Oh shit, I left it in the kitchen. Here!”
He handed the creased piece of paper to Brien.
“Why don’t you take a look at this while I’m getting the bowl.”
Brien shrugged and looked at the paper in his hand as Derek ran back around the house. The sky was red, and the sun was starting to go down, so he had to squint a little bit to make out the words properly. Sure enough, it was a spell, although it was a lot less complicated than he’d feared it would be. There was no nonsense about digging up graveyard bones or slicing up some poor black kittens, thank goodness. There were limits to even his idle curiosity. But this particular exercise didn’t look like it would do anyone any harm.
When thou wilt summon the Beholder, thy heart must be pure and thy faith strong. Thou shalt have no altar save the Wooden Bowl carved with the sacred sign. And thou shalt conjure fire, and when the green flames dance, thou shalt know the time is ripe for the consummation of the sacrifice. And the name of the Bowl shall be GRAKH USSRU MAL.
Thou shalt place GRAKH USSRU MAL inside circles three.
The first circle shall be stone, for BUL, the supreme, father of the gods.
The second circle shall be flour, for BALTES, the great queen, mother of the spirits of the earth.
The third circle shall be salt, for INCU, the prince of the sky, lord of the heavens.
And the Sword shall be placed in the fire.
And the Conjuration of the Beholder must be made, so:
ABBI AMOU NPIC COLO PROB LEMO CONI LPAR
OLIC ONIL DIAVOLOM AIES UCHR ISTI ECAP OCIE
When thou speakest the words ONIL DIAVOLOM thou shalt take the Sword from the flame and thrust it into the flesh of the great queen before the GRAKH USSRU MAL. And so the Beholder shall appear.
All right then, Brien thought as he finished reading. Bake ten minutes and serve when cool. Derek’s army knife was obviously the Sword, and the circles were already prepared. He licked a finger, reached down and touched the third line, then gingerly tasted it. Blech! It was definitely salt.
He folded his arms and watched as Derek came jogging around the side of the house, carrying a largish salad bowl. He couldn’t repress a snigger. Somehow, it was hard to picture the Son of Assur-natsir-pal as a vegetarian.
Melusine sighed as another of Kaym’s messenger imps appeared in front of her as she relaxed on the rooftop of the Lewis house, enjoying the approach of darkness. It wasn’t that she thought that he was wasting her time, but not knowing what the Fallen lord was so busy arranging was starting to get on her nerves. She’d done as he’d commanded and labored hard on convincing the kiddies that there was nothing
else in the works, and it really hadn’t been too hard. Christopher, despite his natural paranoia, was caught up in his new relationship with Rachel, and although neither she nor her unwitting human ally had been successful in convincing him to give in to his naturally sinful desires, at least it kept him out of Kaym’s hair.
Boghorael had taken to his new Tempter’s duties like a tiger released into a petting zoo. He was clumsy, and his inexperienced methods were easily countered by Paulus, but his energetic enthusiasm kept Jami’s Divine guardian too busy to notice what else was going on in the neighborhood. Holli was so preoccupied with her boyfriend and preparations for the prom that Maligor had very little to do, except torment Aliel, whose concerns for Holli’s chastity were starting to show on her thin face.
“The Baron expressed a desire that you leave at once, Mistress….”
At least this imp was more courteous than the last. He didn’t even try to look at her, but kept his eyes averted even as he pestered her again. He must have heard about what she’d done to Balazel’s last messenger.
“I heard you the first time,” she barked imperiously, and the frightened imp leaped back a good ten feet. “Be patient!”
He quivered, silent and motionless, as she glared at him. Then Boghorael appeared, and bowed down low before her. He was looking very well, she thought proudly, and in another year or two, might even make a worthy opponent for Paulus.
“Great Mistress, I am at your service.”
The new Tempter sounded servile enough, but she saw his bark-brown lips twitch and knew he was simply playing the fool in front of the imp. That was fine with her; she needed an ally she could rely upon, not a boy-toy, after all.
“I’m being summoned by an archangel, so I have to leave here. I don’t know how long it will take, but I don’t think I’ll be away for more than a few hours. Can you handle keeping an eye on both Christopher and Jami?”
“Your humble servant is honored by your faith in him, Great Mistress.”
Melusine laughed shortly. He was a wise acre. She liked that, but who would have known?
“Don’t push it, Boghorael. I smoked Dandaela because she couldn’t keep her eye on the ball, and I’ll do the same to you if I have to.”
The handsome demon’s green eyes grew serious and he straightened out his shoulders as he abandoned his pretense at meekness.
“I know, Melusine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll stay on top of things.”
“Good,” she said, and she brushed her lips lightly against his ear as she moved past him. “Because I wouldn’t want to have to,” she told him softly, then took the waiting imp’s hand.
The world boiled away in a melange of color, then reformed itself into a remarkably similar landscape. She was standing on another rooftop, which, judging by the clouds smeared thinly across the reddening sky, wasn’t too far away from where she’d just been. Lord Kaym was there in his guise as Balazel, accompanied by four other fallen angels. Two of them were large, and radiated great power, but she didn’t recognize any of them immediately, not until one turned around and looked at her.
“Mahalidael,” she gasped at the broad, arrogant face of the Zodiac Lord. “L-Lord Mahalidael, is that you?”
She hadn’t seen him in thousands of years, but it would have been impossible for her to have forgotten him, the angry Archon her once-beloved had defeated in the Circle of Fire. She was desperately curious to know what it had been like, beyond the Beyond, but this didn’t seem like the right moment to be asking him about it.
“Do I know you?” he asked contemptuously.
“Her name is Melusine, and you wouldn’t know her,” Kaym answered him impatiently. “But she knows you. Melusine, my dear, you’ve obviously recognized Lord Mahalidael, and this,” he indicated the other powerful angel,“is the Archon Rahdar.”
He said nothing about the other two angels, who seemed content to lurk quietly in the background as she genuflected before the two archons. The other two looked like tempters, if she wasn’t mistaken, most likely of the two young mortals below them in the backyard who seemed to be building a bonfire. As to the Archon Rahdar… yes, she recognized the name. He was a Zodiac Lord as well, of the sign of the Crab, if her memory served her correctly. Two Zodiac Lords, here in the Cities! It was unheard of. What were they doing in this backwater town?
“Why do you honor us with your company, Great Lords?” she bowed again, a little deeper this time.
“I have a score—” Mahalidael started to say, but Lord Kaym cut him off with an upraised fist.
“Quiet!” Kaym’s snapped at the Archon before inclining his massive head to the two nameless angels. “You may leave now. You have done well, it will be noted.”
Both angels bowed respectfully.
“Thank you, Baron,” one said.
“When shall we return, Ar-Balazel?” the other asked.
Lord Kaym shook his head, and a twisted smile creased his bestial face.
“You will not be needed again,” he informed them. “There will be no further tempting required. Return to your captain and tell him that you are available for new assignments.”
The Tempters bowed again, and disappeared immediately.
The disguised angel lord nodded with approval at the Tempters unhesitating obedience, then the air shimmered as Kaym returned to his customary Aspect. He swirled his cloak of stars dramatically, and a cold wind began to blow from the north as he turned his shrouded gaze towards Melusine and the two Zodiac Lords. He grinned faintly, and Melusine wondered what he had in mind for the two boys. They seemed utterly unremarkable, from what she could see.
“They are, they are,” Kaym agreed aloud with her unarticulated thoughts. “Almost completely beyond notice, even by their own kind.”
Don’t do that! She dared to glare peevishly at him, but he didn’t deign to notice.
“Unlovely and unloved, and for the most part, uninteresting,” the fallen angel continued. “Which is why they are integral to my plan. You see, I have chosen them to be my warriors, warriors of destruction, these two, who can pass unnoticed in places where even Archons might rightly fear to tread.”
Melusine glanced at Mahalidael and Rahdar. Neither of them appeared to be paying much attention to Kaym’s words, although Mahalidael rolled his eyes at that last remark. Then the implications of what Kaym was saying struck her, and she clapped her hands.
“You’re setting them up for a blood-offering,” she guessed, but with conviction. “You’ll take out the Lewis children after they’ve consecrated a Temple of Blood!”
She didn’t mind it, really. The decision was obviously coming from a very high level, perhaps even the Prince himself, and no blame for Christopher’s soul would attach to her in these circumstances. His death wouldn’t be accidental, in fact, it would be quite the opposite!
Kaym stroked her cheek affectionately.
“Perhaps you would be so bold, my little crimson wildcat, but my designs are a little less lofty. No, that may well be an unexpected benefit, but the elimination of the former Baal Phaoton is not the center of my intentions. No, I would rather seek the death of his heart. My main purpose is to simply let him know that I am still his master, and I am not to be trifled with! Slaying a few dozen of his friends and acquaintances before his eyes and in his very backyard should underline my point most eloquently, I should think.”
“Not exactly subtle, is it?” Lord Rahdar said drily. “As long as you’re out to butcher children, Chemosh, why not simply wipe out that kindergarten down the street? It seems that would be more your style.”
Melusine held her breath as Kaym’s dark glasses were aimed at the Zodiac Lord for an uncomfortably long time. But then the dark-haired angel shrugged indifferently, and the momentary tension evaporated as he tapped a finger against the white skin of his temple.
“Perhaps you are mistaking me for my good friend Baal Moloch, Archon Rahdar, and in this place you will call me Balazel. You will never name me as anyone else, not ev
en for a moment!”
Kaym sounded coldly furious. Melusine wondered if he was really concerned that the Divine might learn of his presence here through Rahdar, or if he was simply taking the opportunity to remind the Crab of his place.
Kaym wasn’t finished. Glaring at the Archon, he continued:
“In answer to your foolish question, it is extremely difficult to instruct a five year-old to intentionally mow down a room full of his classmates. Such action is contrary to the child’s fundamental instincts. Take that same child, throw him to the lions for ten years, and he’ll willingly pull the trigger without requiring much in the way of guidance at all. The child still knows how to love; the teenager only knows hate.”
“Your soliloquy grows tiresome,” Lord Mahalidael complained, yawning.
Melusine closed her eyes and reached out into the hearts of the two boys, who were now busy placing different objects into their fire. Neither seemed to be carrying an unusually heavy load of sin, and although both were clearly sensitive souls, she didn’t detect any spectacular capacity for violence or rage. There was a fair amount of hate and pain scarring the hearts of both youths, but it was nothing remarkable. She’d certainly seen far worse. Had Kaym made a mistake, perhaps?
“Are you sure these are the two you want?” she raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Unless you take them over completely, I don’t see them following through on what you’re contemplating.”
“That’s because you lack the vision. Their minds may look healthy enough now, but they are both like the tree which has rotted from the interior, its heart devoured by insects. One well-struck blow, and the tree will fall at once.”
He cracked his knuckles, and she could just see the red tongue of one of his tattoos snaking its way out of his silvery robe sleeve and up the back of his hand. He held his hand up before her, and as the sleeve fell away, the whole of the serpentine tattoo was revealed in all of its beautiful, venomous glory.
“The blow will be well-struck. I have gone to some lengths to prepare these two particular trees, Melusine. And I assure you, when I strike, they will fall!”
