Angel

by Plum Pascal

  I replace the cork in the vial, then place the vial beside its brethren and tie the black, leather cord around my waist once again. Then, using the shadows to blind my activities, I approach the target. My feet don’t make a sound as the shadows surround me entirely, acting as misty buffers beneath my soles.

  Holding the edge of the blade to the target’s neck, I graze him only slightly. It will feel like he’s been bitten by a pesky insect. As I imagine, he immediately scratches his neck before continuing to grope his acquaintance.

  The target stands a few seconds later. His breath is already slowing; the poison works quickly. He lifts the tiny faerie and she wraps her legs around his waist with a high-pitched giggle. They exit the room, heading to the bedrooms upstairs to further their carnal pleasures. Or so he believes.

  I’m quick behind my target, though I’m uninterested in watching his bedroom antics. But it will be easier to escape unnoticed if I make my exit where there are fewer onlookers. Upstairs provides an empty hallway.

  Once I reach the top of the stairs, I start forward, my Shadow Magic allowing me to walk directly through the brick wall ahead of me. I do so and gently float down to the cobbled street below, my feet making no sound at all when they touch down.

  I hide in the shadows, allowing them to envelop me in their welcoming embrace. And then I simply await my target to empty from the whorehouse. I finger the chain of bones I wear around my neck and wonder how much longer this bastard will be. I’m a busy man.

  The target will not be long. The Spined Devil Venom will see to that.

  I feel a pull from the Death Mark, alerting me that the target is coming closer.

  I know nothing about the half-orc’s identity, other than his species, but neither do I care. All I care about is payment. And that will come soon enough.

  The target walks past me, where I lurk in the shadows of the alley. His gait is already sluggish. I step out from my hiding place and follow him. Using the shadows that pollute me, I weave them around myself until I simply blend into the darkness and no one can detect me, all the while running my fingers over the bones that decorate my neck.

  I watch him unlock his vehicle and take a seat behind the wheel. He starts the car and proceeds forward. No matter. As a vampire, I’m known for my exceptional speed. It’s no feat to keep up with him.

  He pulls into the garage of a well-to-do home in one of the few prestigious areas still remaining. I imagine he works for Variant. Otherwise, he wouldn’t enjoy such blessings. If such is the case, I’ll enjoy finishing this job more than I thought I would.

  He turns his vehicle off and throws the door open, lurching to his feet. He sways before struggling to his front door and, once inside, collapses on the floor. I’m seconds behind him.

  Before entering, I close my eyes and send my shadows out to detect if there’s anyone else here—anyone I haven’t planned for. There isn’t. The place is clear. I proceed after the target.

  He still doesn’t know he’s being followed. He drags himself across the marble floor. Even though we’re bathed in the pitch of night, I possess Darkvision and, thus, can see. And this bastard is loaded. I’m certain his riches are ill-gotten.

  He stops moving once he reaches the center of the room and then just lays there. Then he flips himself over until he’s facing the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with his elevated breathing. No doubt he’s wondering what’s happened to him.

  I stand above him and allow my shadows to melt away. In the guile of night, he won’t be able to decipher the features of his executioner. And even if he does, it won’t matter much longer.

  I untie the leather straps from my waist and glance down at my family of poisons.

  “Who do you work for?” I ask as I lean over him. Of course, he’s too far gone at this point to respond, so I do it for him. “Variant? Blink twice if the answer is yes.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink. Just stares straight ahead.

  I chuckle, a menacing, ugly sound. “We can do this one of two ways. Either way, you’re going to die. But I can make that death a fairly pleasant one or, with the help of Ghoul Oil, I can ensure you suffer a long bout of insanity before the Death Knight finally claims you. Or perhaps you’d prefer to be eaten from the inside out, courtesy of my Lich Dust?” I pause, mainly for dramatic effect. “I don’t advise death by Lich Dust. It’s painful and messy.” Leaning down, I put my mouth right next to his ear and whisper, “so I shall ask you again, do you work for Variant?”

  He blinks twice.

  I stand up with a quick nod. “I thought so.” Then, I shuffle through my menagerie of poisons. Yes, I could simply drain him, but the Spined Devil Venom will have spread through his entire system by now, and it’s not the most pleasant taste.

  Instead, I reach down into my reticule and produce the vial of Unknowing Death. To the ignorant onlooker, it appears as though the vial is empty—but therein is the Unkowing Death’s beauty. Quite the contrary, it’s full of an invisible agent that, once inhaled, provides death almost immediately.

  Owing to the fact that I have no respiratory system, I’m safe when handling airborne poisons.

  I uncork the vial, then bring it just below the target’s nose. Gripping his jaw with my free hand, I press his mouth shut. It’s a matter of seconds before he’s forced to breathe through his nose. As soon as he inhales the Unknowing Death, I recork the vial and place it back in my armory, then stand to watch the poison take action.

  The Unknowing Death kills by evaporating all liquid from a target’s body, reducing him to a pile of bones. And it does so within perhaps two minutes.

  The paymaster who hired me for this job requires proof of the target’s death. Thus, I must take the extra step of securing what’s left of the half-orc’s body. Releasing the clasp, I pull the chain of bones from around my neck. Each one is hollow, open on one end, and two to three inches long. I select one of the bones and hold it up, willing my shadows to blow into it since I’m unable. Rather than the sound of air coming from the other end, the bone plays a note, deep and doleful.

  My shadows begin to swirl around what was once the half-orc and is now merely a pile of bones and bodily debris, shrinking everything into a mass that is perhaps a centimeter in length and width. Then, the mess is summarily whisked into the hollow recess of the bone. When there’s nothing left on the floor, I stand and replace the chain around my neck where it belongs. Soon, I will deliver the remains of the half-orc to the paymaster. Once the remains are freed from the bone, they will return to their original size.

  The target will be identified by his teeth.

  SEVEN

  Flumph

  The Infinite Forest

  Fae Realm

  I’m startin’ ta wonder if I’m drugged outta my damn mind jist as bad as that angel is.

  ‘Cause one minute, we’re in the shadow forest an’ I’m tryin’ to convince big, pissed off Goliath that I ain’t lyin’ when I said the angel’s got ‘er wings. An’ the next thing I knows, we be headin’ through another time-travelin’ hole full o’ mist an’ now I finds myself in the middle o’ another forest. Only this one ain’t so fuckin’ scary. Thank my goddamn balls. It’s still dark, though.

  “Thoradin, you will travel with us,” Dragan announce to his main squeeze. Then, he look back at the equivalent to a gargoyle stepson. “Tell Gurdis to travel back to the Gorge. Variant will be coming for me. If the battalion must scatter to survive, so be it.”

  Thoradin nods and then goes to talk to the gargoyle runner-up.

  “Where we goin’?” I ask Dragan.

  “To find Cambion.”

  “What the fuck’s that mean?”

  “Don’t ask questions if you won’t understand the answers,” he say real rude like an’ frown down at me.

  Dick.

  ###

  Flumph

  We walk for, like, three hours—well… Dragan an’ Thoradin do. Dragan’s carryin’ the angel an’ I’m ridin’ o
n her back real comfortable like.

  “You know’s what I hate ‘bout the other realms?” I say to Dragan, but he don’t turn ‘round to look at me soze I just continue talkin’. “I hate that there ain’t none o’ the modern conveniences like we got in the Mortal Realm.”

  “What are you on about?” Dragan grumbles.

  “Look at us,” I answer. “We been walkin’ nonstop for ways too long when we coulda been drivin’ us a sweet ass ride if we was in the Mortal Realm.”

  “Every realm has its benefits and hindrances,” Dragan say.

  “This faerie realm make it feel like we back in the medieval times,” I complain. “An’ name me one good thing ‘bout yer realm.”

  He finally glance back at me, an’ he wearin’ a smirk. “No sprites.”

  “Ha ha, real damn funny, anus face,” I mutter. “Why it be that way, anyways?”

  “Why is what what way?” Dragan ask me back.

  “The realms? Why there be modern conveniences in the Mortal Realm but not here?”

  “Because Variant wants it that way.”

  “Why he want it that way?”

  “You never stop asking questions, do you?”

  “Not ‘til I get me some answers.”

  Dragan sigh like he real frustrated, but he answer all the same. “Because Cambion was banished to the Fae Realm and I was banished to the Shadow Realm, Variant disallowed us both the benefits of technology that evolved in the Mortal Realm. It’s part and parcel of our punishment.”

  “Then you ain’t never seen a vehicle before?” I ask.

  He glares at me. “I’ve seen vehicles before because I haven’t stayed trapped in my realm, as you’re already aware.” He take a big breath. “No more questions.”

  Then he an’ Thoradin stop walkin’ an’ jist start starin’ at this big-ass tree, like it’s nekked an’ got titties or somethin’. I guess all trees are nekked but this one definitely don’t got no titties. It do look old an’ dead, though.

  “The Tree of Shadows,” Dragan announce, then he lean down an’ carefully puts the unconscious girl on the ground. She ain’t made a sound this whole time. Not a peep, fart… nothin’. I checked her a couple times ta make sure she ain’t dead, but she still alive. For now, anyways.

  I watch Dragan as he stands in front o’ the tree an’ then close his eyes an’ starts movin’ his hands in front o’ him like he touchin’ a ball. Not like a hairy testicle ball, but like a ball you bounce.

  Anyhows, all o’ a sudden, there’s like dark shadows pourin’ out his hands an’ they’re spreadin’ down his arms, an’ I’m startin’ to get antsy ‘cause I’m a creature o’ the light an’ I dunno ’bout this dark arts crap. An’ Dragan’s like the King o’ the Darkness. I swear, if that tree come to life an’ start talkin’, I’m gonna shit my pants an’ die. Right here.

  Well, that ain’t ‘xactly what happens. Instead, Dragan start speakin’ some crap I don’t understand, an’ then the center o’ the tree get all blurry an’ translucent-like. It’s like, wavin’ with ripples you can see through, but when I look real hard, I don’t see what I figure would be on the other side o’ the tree. ‘stead, I see a totally different place that ain’t got nothin’ to do with this one. Yeah, I know. It don’t make sense to me neithers.

  Dragan stops his ball rubbin’ an’ stops talkin’ his gibberish an’ leans over to pick up the girl, with me still sittin’ on her.

  He frown at me but I smile back ‘cause I’m a happy sprite like that.

  I’m guessin’ the tree’s actually a portal into some other place ‘cause Dragan start walkin’ into the blurry part an’ he don’t get smacked in the face by tree bark or nothin’. Come to think o’ it, I kinda wish he did get smacked in the face, ‘cause he a right twat an’ need to be brought down a peg or two an’ that’d be some funny shit.

  When we comes out the other side o’ the tree, it’s like we’s in dreamland. It ain’t pitch dark no more, but it ain’t bright, neither. ‘stead, the air’s that dark blue like it be right before sunset.

  “How long does the angel have before the withdrawals begin, liege?” Thoradin asks Dragan, who shrugs.

  “Not much longer. The sooner we find Cambion, the better.”

  Thoradin don’t say nothin’ else an’ I’m wonderin’ if maybe he’s as lost as I is ‘bout who this Cambion turd-for-brains is.

  “We don’t have much longer, either,” Thoradin points out an’ Dragan nod real solemn-like.

  “Fifty-seven minutes. I’m keeping track.”

  “An’ then you gonna turn to stone?” I ask, lookin’ at both of ‘em.

  “Yes,” Dragan answer without botherin’ to look at me.

  In front o’ us be a dirt path leadin’ into a town o’ sorts. We be surrounded by big-ass flowers o’ every size an’ color you ever thought. The sound o’ soft music fill the air—like flutes or somethin’—an’ it smell like we jist walked into the middle o’ a rose. The darker it gets, the more I notice lil balls o’ light dancin’ in an’ ‘round the flowers.

  I fly off the girl an’ start buzzin’ ‘round the flowers, an’ they smell even better up close. They so big, I can land on ‘em. Soze I do. Lotsa times. I jist float ‘round an’ land on flowers an’ then fly ta the next one like this was what I was meant ta do all my life.

  An’ them balls of light? Pixies. Smaller than me, even. I’m finally a big ass sprite in a small ass faerie pond. An’ that be sayin’ somethin’.

  “Sprite, stop fucking around,” Dragan grumble at me.

  Dick.

  We keep goin’ down the dirt path into a town. Glowin’ lanterns bob in the gentle breeze an’ light our path. Meanwhiles, these big ol’ fireflies buzz through the fields o’ flowers either side o’ us.

  The town itself is full o’ little circular hut-like things made outta wood an’ topped with mossy roofs, an’ every one of ‘em has its own enclosed garden overflowin’ with flowers an’ bushes. I’m wonderin’ if Snow White live here ‘cause every woodland animal known to the forest is hangin’ out like they ain’t afraid o’ becomin’ dinner.

  I spot some halflings an’ they’re bigger than me which sucks, but then I figures I’ll jist hang out with them pixies when I move in. It ain’t like the halflings are that much bigger, anyways—they’s maybe three feet tall. A few more walk by an’ that’s when I notice the townfolk noticin’ us, an’ they looks a lil worried. Not that I blames ’em, ‘cause Dragan could pass for Satan any day o’ the week an’ Thoradin ain’t much better. If Dragan’s a ten on the scary-as-fuck meter, Thoradin’s like a seven. Maybe an eight.

  “What business have you here? Your kind isn’t welcome.” I hear a voice an’ look down to see a real fat gnome blockin’ Dragan’s path. I didn’t even see where the gnome came from! I ain’t got no idea if one o’ them flowers jist burped him up, or maybe I jist weren’t payin’ attention an’ he been there the whole time?

  “I ain’t with them,” I start to explain, but then Dragan smack me with the back side o’ his big-ass mitt o’ a hand an’ I go somersaultin’ over all them flowers. It take me a second to recover an’ then I got me a mean headache.

  Dick.

  Meanwhiles, a whole group o’ gnomes have piled theyselves up in front o’ Dragan an’ Thoradin. An’ they all look real pissed-off-like. The gnomes are a lil taller than the halflings, but not by much.

  “We’re here to see Cambion. We wish you no harm,” Dragan say as the pixies start surroundin’ us. There’s, like, a hundred o’ ‘em all at once an’ they buzzin’ ’round our heads an’ I see a few o’ ‘em in the girl’s hair an’ under her blanket, probly tryin’ ta figure out if she got a giant lizard tail under there or somethin’.

  Then, they all buzz off in a wave an’ we’re jist standin’ in the middle o’ this weird town, surrounded by unfriendly munchkins an’ I’m wonderin’ what the hell’s for dinner.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  I hear a deep voice to the right, wh
ere the main road break off intos another one. I whirls ‘round to see a man—er, a faerie elf to be exact. He got a big owl sittin’ on one o’ his shoulders. An’ that owl’s makin’ me a might nervous, ‘cause owls gotta taste for fat, little sprites like me. ‘Course, the owl ain’t made no move ta eat any o’ them pixies so maybe it’s a vegetarianism.

  I glance back at the guy with the owl on his shoulder an’ realize he got other fae standin’ jist behind him. Three of ‘em, an’ by the way’s they dressed an’ the weapons they’s holdin’, I think they’re fae militia. Two men fae with staffs an’ a lady fae with a crossbow. She look the meanest.

  The head fae ain’t armed at all an’ he smilin’ at us—well, more at Dragan. But it’s a smile that be like for good manners. It ain’t a for-real smile ‘cause it’s too tight.

  “Dragan. Welcome to Geldingstock, my barbarian friend,” he say an’ then gesture to the village behind him. “I must admit, I’m surprised to see you.” He pause for a few. “It’s been over a century?”

  This guy be real tall but ain’t so tall as Dragan an’ although he definitively muscular, his muscles ain’t big an’ bulky like Dragan’s. His are more long an’ lean, like he been swimmin’ with the merfolk too much. His hair’s dark gold an’ his skin’s bronze. His eyes are amber an’ he might jist be as beautiful as the angel, but in like a more manly kinda way.

  “Cambion,” Dragan say but he don’t sound too happy.

  An’ I notice neither o’ ‘em offer to shake the others’ hand. Soze maybe they ain’t friends? ‘Course, Dragan came here ta see this guy so I dunno what ta make o’ the whole thing.

  “Dismissed,” Cambion say to the elves behind him, an’ they turn ‘round an’ disappear down the path behind him.

  Dragan an’ Cambion jist stand there, starin’ at each other. The owl look at Dragan with them weird owl eyes that always seems like they know too much. Cambion’s the first ta speak agin.