by Sating, Paul
We shook our heads simultaneously.
"Not that I'd take a coin from them, of course," Bilba said with a sour expression before looking at us from the corner of his eyes. "When was the last time anyone on the Council reached out to check on us?"
Ralrek grunted. "Lucifer's Council is a little busy for that."
"Zeke? What about you? After all, you're the one who started this. The Council recruited you. Ralrek and I are just your support team, but you're the one they wanted in the first place and you have always had an interesting relationship with them. Have any of them come to you?"
I didn't have to think about it. "No."
Bilba was silent for a few short roller-coaster shuffles forward. A weight pressed heavily, I could tell.
"What is it?" I asked.
He opened his mouth before snapping it shut again and half-spinning to face the front of the line.
Life was better without the Council in it. I guess that comes from wasting away in a prison cell with Ralrek. Bilba would understand if he'd been sitting on that damp floor, chained to a wall, waiting to face fate. He was trying to; I knew that, but because he did not live through it, he would never fully understand what it was like.
"Aren't you guys … don't you feel, I don't know ... rejected … from time to time," he said. His voice was lacking any conviction, and I felt pained for him. His had been a unique experience to ours. And his sense of rejection was coming from some place deep, as deep or worse than the rejection being labeled Hell's Segregate used to have on me. Bilba's pain came in the shape of a middle-aged succubus who owned a flower shop in the Eighth Circle and forgot to love her son.
Mine was just a label that meant far less to me today than it did a year ago, thanks to an angel, the mortal enemy.
Man, I did not want to think about Cassie again.
"I mean, I think about it from time to time," Ralrek said, interrupting my thoughts of the cocoa haired angel, "but I'm not addicted to it. There's enough other stuff to deal with."
"I … I've been having a hard time with finding work and without their assignments, my confidence is sort of shaken. I think that's, in part, why I wonder why the Council is shunning us? To me, what's more important?"
"Torlan," Ralrek said in a way that sounded like a slip.
"Who?" I said, turning fully on him. There was something in his voice and the way he bit the corner of his lip that made me smile. "A boyfriend? You hellhound."
Ralrek smirked as I punched him in the shoulder.
"How long?"
"A few weeks," Ralrek dipped his head toward his raised shoulder.
"And why haven't we met him yet?" I said, narrowing my eyes.
Weird how quickly things change. A year and a half ago, I wouldn't have cared who was involved in Ralrek's lonely life. Now, being the first to learn of his secret, things had changed drastically. Behind that off-putting tall and handsome exterior hid a nice demon who had a personality and was actually vulnerable.
"I'm not sure I'm ready for that," Ralrek said, his eyes flickering at Bilba. "But at least this one is an immortal creature."
Subtle clues rarely get my attention, but this time I noticed Bilba hadn't said anything. He stood in our small circle, unresponsive, his face unreadable. The awkwardness was palpable.
I coughed, drawing Ralrek's whitening face in my direction. "Well, when you are, I'll be excited to meet him."
"Thanks, Zeke," Ralrek said. "That means a lot."
Another cart rattled overhead, reminding me I was standing in line to be voluntarily strapped into a death trap. My rising panic must have been obvious because Ralrek laughed and Bilba snorted through his nose before covering it and trying to play it off like he hadn't. Nothing like having good friends.
Underneath the fading roar of the cart disappearing into the tunnel of light, came the chattering of excited demons all around me, sounding like a cluster of annoying fairies—sorry, they're annoying, the way they flit about, mess with you by putting bugs in your hair and flying away before you can swat them, and the such. The air of excitement changed in seconds, moving away from the light-hearted and carefree feeling to one edged with anxiety. More demons chattered, the noise grew to more than an irritant as they engaged in the mysterious conversation rippling down the line. Incubi slapped each other's shoulders and made dumb faces. Succubi put hands to mouths or rubbed their loved one's arms.
"What's going on?" Bilba said, facing forward and craning to see down the line. He had a better chance of doing that then I did. There were implings who were taller than my sixty-seven inches.
Ralrek stretched to look over the heads in the crowd.
This was more than fairies chattering. This was the intangible nervous excitement that raced through crowds whenever something was happening that fell outside the scope of daily life.
A lump formed in my throat as I risked stepping out of line to catch a clue. "Not sure, but be ready," I said, my hand slipping to Creed's knob as I extended my senses outward. In addition to now being super sensitive to noises and the visual bombardment of life in Hell, the past year, me and the magical halberd bounded more than ever before. Not only could I call it from greater distances, but Creed had somehow hooked me into my surroundings. Now, everything was brighter, louder, and more aromatic than ever before. It was a wonderful skill to have picked up and developed, at home, in the relative silence of my Old Towne apartment. But here, surrounded by thousands of Fivers—my Fifth Circle neighbors—it was a little much. Whatever energy surged through the crowd, it irritated my senses, sort of like the fizzle of a firework, just without the bang, boom, awww.
Suddenly, I wasn't as confident about my level of control, which rivaled adolescent implings and their nocturnal emissions when dreaming of pleasurable things.
"Is something happening, Zeke?" Ralrek moved closer to whisper. Proximity was another outcome of our shared challenge with the Council last year, reluctant as it still was. At least he appreciated my talents for a change.
I shook my head. "No one's conjuring."
"Then what's going on? Everyone is jittery. I'm jittery," Bilba asked, his eyes growing wider, the tips of his big ears turning pink.
"You're always jittery," Ralrek quipped, but his expression was lax, unfocused on picking on our friend and more on picking up clues to the pockets of conversation that were swelling amongst the waiting ride-goers.
I put my finger to my lips. "Listen, instead of blabbing over top of everyone and we might just learn."
Slow but undeterred, the ripple of excitement waved from group to group, carrying the ominousness typical of big news. As the news traveled back, the roller coaster became less interesting.
"Humans," an old demon said, shaking his balding head.
"Overworld." A young succubus with a bad complexion cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting the message back, filling the role of the informed expert.
"I'm not shocked." This irritated response came from a short, stout mother who placed her hand on the top of the young red-headed impling clinging to her leg. "What do you expect from them?"
"Full-blown?" A thin incubus, brown skin cracking with age, grimaced.
"That's what they're saying," the know-it-all with the bad complexion nodded her head aggressively.
"When?" a succubus who appeared too young to be an adult but too old to be an impling held her hand to her mouth.
Word of whatever event everyone was talking about was getting closer, but I didn't feel like waiting. The group in front of us was making me nervous with their fidgeting to hear. Leaning closer to the incubus in front of me, I asked, "What's everyone talking about?"
"I don't know," he said with a sneer, pulling away from me. "Talk about minding your own business." He finished with a laugh to his friends, who looked at me as if I was the oddball.
Further ahead, someone shouted, "Oh, my Lucifer! Not again!"
"When will they learn? You'd think they'd be tired of fighting after the last one
." The old, gray-haired demon shook his head again, like it was his own children making awful decisions.
"Wasn't the last one supposed to be the end of it?" another asked.
"The war to end all wars?" The gray-haired demon's wife laughed bitterly.
"Nah, there was another big one after that, remember?"
"Can't keep 'em straight. Dumb humans."
"Best hope we don't get involved," gray-hair said.
I couldn't take it anymore. Stepping out of line, ignoring Ralrek's tug on my sleeve and Bilba's questioning look, I walked a few groupings forward to where gray-hair was holding council.
"What's everyone talking about?" I said, interrupting the small group who looked me up and down in yo-yoing flicks of eyes. Patience was for those who had the privilege of peaceful lives.
Noone answered immediately.
"The humans," know-it-all said, leaning into the conversation.
I welcomed her desire to be the center of attention. "What about them?"
"Supposedly they've started another war," she replied in a prideful tone. Her eyes widened as if she expected me to understand some implied message.
The older male piped in. "Bet the Council will be convening to recruit soldiers."
"Soldiers?"
Know-it-all's eyes scrunched and her head jerked back. "Yes, soldiers," she cackled, like I was the idiot here. "Just like every time. To join the mortal armies?"
I knew that. Everyone did. Just a few decades ago we went through something similar when it seemed like the entire mortal realm wanted to destroy itself. When the dung hit the fan up there, we got called to arms. But I refused to intensify these localized conversations. When I didn't revel in her drama-weaving she turned her back. I returned to Bilba and Ralrek, neither of whom looked calm.
"War, Zeke," Bilba said. "Can you believe it?"
"How did you know?"
"We told him," the incubus who told me to bugger off said without making eye contact. "Wasn't as nosy as you. Seems like a nice lad."
Of course.
"They said there might be a draft. The old incubus up there said there's already talk of recruiting demons for the human armies," Ralrek said.
"I wonder what they pay," Bilba said.
I noticed he was wringing his hands. "The human army?"
He nodded. "Guys," he paused, looking around, "I'm short on coin. Like, bad. If the humans are at war and the Council needs volunteers … well, would you volunteer if we could?"
"Volunteer? You're serious?" Ralrek said with a scoffing laugh, looking around at the groups in line around us as if he couldn't believe the question. His smile dropped when he faced Bilba again. "You are, aren't you?"
Bilba didn't look humored. He squared on me. "Zeke?"
My love and respect for him drove the truth; well, that and the fact we didn't have anything to worry about because we were speaking in the hypothetical. "You bet, bud. Plus, I could use the coin too."
"You're not getting enough hours at Dialphio's shop?" Ralrek asked. "You're always there, or at least, that's what you claim when we've invited you out to the clubs for some dancing."
I shook my head. Ralrek knew I hated clubs. And dancing. And dancing in clubs. But that wasn't it. "No, she's been great. But I'm still renting the Old Towne apartment and, with the hours I'm getting, I'm saving up to get my own place. I can't rent forever."
"Don't tell me you burned through everything the Council gave you?" Ralrek's eyes narrowed.
"First, don't forget, they didn't pay me for the Aries mission," I said with the wag of a finger. "And they don't 'give' us anything. We earn it."
Ralrek threw his head back. "Don't start. I know. I know. Yield. I yield already. That's not what I meant."
"Are you sure? A prison term might not have been enough for you to see the light. You're pretty thick sometimes," I said with a grin and wink.
"I'm confident you're not as dumb as I used to think you were." Ralrek shrugged. "If it wasn't for them giving us the assignments they have, I wouldn't have what I do. My situation isn't like yours. I don't have a family; well, not in the sense you both do. Your mother is an issue, Bilba, but at least you have your father. And Zeke, yours is a dick, but your mother is awesome. Until Torlan, the only hope I had for a different tomorrow came because of what the Council gave me."
"So he's got potential to be a serious thing?" Bilba asked.
"Yes, if I keep him around," Ralrek answered nonchalantly. "We aren't even close to thinking about that type of stuff yet. Heavens, we're not even exclusive yet."
I blew a huge exhale out, letting my lips flap as I looked up at the next coaster cart about to plummet toward the surface. "Well, it doesn't matter what any of us would do, because it's not going to happen. We don't even know if there is a war in the Overworld. It's all just hearsay from a bunch of carnival goers."
"Hey, I'm more than a 'goer,' I'm a carnival lover," Bilba protested good-naturedly. "And, why would so many demons be talking about it if it wasn't true?"
I gestured at know-it-all, who was still reveling in the Hellfire-light of attention. "Because demons feed off gossip." I put my hands up in playful surrender. "Look, let's just enjoy this death trap and get in enough rides so you break even. Tomorrow, we'll see what the news says. But tonight, let's have fun." I paused as another cart rocketed overhead, shooting into the open mouth of the tunnel at irresponsible speeds. I swallowed that stupid lump in my throat again. "As much as we can."
Watching the full cart of screamers disappear into that frightening white tunnel, I wondered if it was possible for any of us to do that now, for different reasons.
2 - Underworld, Fifth Circle
The final night of Samhain would be spent the way it always was: with a family dinner. As an impling, I used to enjoy the occasion. Back then, it was all about great food—unless Mother and Father hosted—and fun. Whichever house hosted was filled with Mother and Father, grandparents, aunts and uncles and associated cousins. There were board games, yard games, stories, terrible jokes and everything that made the annual gathering the type of event created by unfiltered trust and love. Now, it wasn't the same. Everyone was a few thousand years older. Many in the family moved across the Fifth, too far away to make it practical to travel, or had families of their own, leaving the fun feeling scripted.
I let out a long, slow breath.
"What's wrong?" Dialphio said, not taking her eyes from the report on her desk. A hand in her auburn hair, my boss looked exhausted, though her robust liveliness still sparkled in her emerald eyes.
We had closed the store, and she set about doing the administrative things she did every night while I cleaned and straightened up for the next day. Heading to my desk to collect my jacket and Creed, the thought of going to my parents' instead of my own home hit me, causing the reaction that drew her somewhat-dedicated attention.
"I'm headed to my parents' tonight for Samhain dinner," I said, trying to blot out the scratching of her quill.
Dialphio's mouth moved as she crunched numbers from the sales receipts. Her daily penance—sitting there, each day at the close of business, in front of piles of curled paper and coppers—some silvers, but not many—ensuring everything was accounted for. Not only boring and tedious, but confusing, if you asked me. Math and accounting never made friends with me.
Disrupting her nightly duties was a crappy thing to do, not that she seemed bothered. The Book Abyss was her only family and thinking about spending the last night of Samhain alone probably wasn't something she wanted to have on her mind.
I fixed that. "I'm sorry, Dialphio. I wasn't thinking. But I have an idea. Would you like to come to dinner with me? My mother … cooks." I couldn't call Mother a 'cook,' not with a straight face, I respected Dialphio too much for that.
She set her quill down, pulling the red-rimmed glasses she started using over the past year for reading from her eyes and taking me in. "That's very sweet of you Zeke, but I couldn't intrude on your family like
that. Plus," she said, waving her glasses at the chaotic pile of receipts, "I've got to get through the rest of these."
"They'll be there after dinner, I promise," I said with a friendly smile. My heart twitched at the thought of her spending tonight in the bookstore. "Come on, I need backup."
She laughed. It sounded like a small bird's chirp. "So you want me to get wrapped up in your family drama? No thanks, I've got enough of my own."
My boss knew so much about my personal life. Maybe too much. I shrugged. "Not to wrap you in my family drama, but because you love me?" I offered, my voice rising with each word.
"Not that much," she said with a smile that evaporated instantly. "No family is free of drama, mine included. I … I don't do well around it. Can't keep my trap shut."
"That's why you never talk about yours?"
Dialphio bit the end of her glasses' arm. "It's not any fun when a family gets to that point. Not healthy. The thing is, Lucifer may have His plan, but it's not etched in brimstone. We get to choose the demons we spend our time with, Ezekial. We're not immortal, not truly, regardless of what the humans think, so we should carefully consider how we live during the time we have. My family? That's one reason I work so hard, to be sure that I never have to return to what I was. You have that choice too."
"It doesn't feel like it." I cast my eyes down at Creed, rubbing the knob of the hilt.
There was a tunk as she dropped her glasses on the pile of receipts and stood, approaching me. Grabbing my hand—Dialphio was a hand holder—she said, "It rarely does until you decide that it is so. I'll tell you what," she followed up when I flinched, "I'll go with you. I don't need to stay here all night staring at numbers. I can get that done tomorrow if you'll take care of the front of the store for me."
"Are you sure?" I asked. If her going meant she would have a late night, I wouldn't ask that of her.
