A Demon Archmage in New York

[CCClover]

31. Doubt, Part Three

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Trias' head spun with all that Uriel had told him.

He did not know how the Seraphim could speak of such things so casually. His whole existence, Trias had known nothing but the endless war between Light and Dark. How many had given everything in that conflict? Entire cities ravaged in blazes of hellfire, countless dead, endless sacrifice…all for a victory that, apparently, the Seraphic Council did not consider a victory at all. There might be more worlds, with more battles to be fought. How many? How many lifetimes would the war go on…?

But, in truth, none of that seemed to matter. He could still feel her in the back of his mind. Teralel, her body wracked by pain. There could be a billion wars waiting for him, but right now that was all he could think about.

Trias knew exactly where he was going. And so he found himself back in the same old place. Standing before the vortex of light where evil itself lay imprisoned. And it was not long before the voice of the Enemy came to him.

"So," the Heart of Darkness purred. "You want something from me. Don't you, Trias?"

"No," Trias lied.

The Dark One was in a fine mood today. "Tut tut. It will not do for an angel to lie, not here. You've been hanging around me too often, I think. Will you make me guess?"

All at once, Trias felt pathetic. How had he ever stood before the Great Enemy with pride and scorn on his lips? How had he ever had so much faith in Heaven's design? "You…you cannot know," he said feebly. "You…you cannot touch my mind…"

Suddenly an icy cold washed over him, and even here, standing before the torrent of light that was the Dark One's prison, gloom seemed to settle in.

"Don't you listen, Trias?" the Great Enemy hissed with the voice of a thousand damned souls. "I don't need to touch your mind to know what you're thinking. As if it weren't obvious. Oh, you're so very upset, aren't you? Here's my guess: your little Teralel has run into trouble on the hunt. Captured, perhaps. And now you've come to me to plead for mercy on her behalf. Well, I don't know if I could win her a reprieve, even if I wanted to. I don't know whether Malak or Cara would still obey my orders."

Trias was taken aback. Was it so obvious that this was what he came here for? Was his heresy so plain? "I…you…you would never order them to stand down, in any case."

"How little you know me, Trias. I would. On some conditions, of course. I mean, I don't expect to be freed, but you know it's pretty sparse inside this crystal, right? I could use some better accommodations. A chalkboard. A chair. Something to read, at least. So, they did capture her, huh?"

Trias hesitated. Oh, he shouldn't be speaking to the Enemy, he knew it, deep in his bones he knew it, but…when Heaven denied him, what was he supposed to do? "I…I don't know. I don't think so. All I know is that she is in pain…"

"Well, go pull her bacon out of the fire, then. You're her Luminary, right? Isn't she your responsibility?"

Sudden rage flooded Trias' thoughts. But it was not the righteous fury he was so familiar with. This was a rage that tossed him about like a boat in the midst of a tempest; a rage he could not control. "Yes," he roared, and the whirlpool of light before him wavered. "I want to, don't you think I want to? But it is the…the judgment of Heaven that no one risks themselves for her!"

There was a moment of silence as his rage echoed through the sacred halls, and for a moment Trias believed he'd receive no answer. But then the Dark One spoke again.

"Ooh, that's rough, buddy. Well, that's Heaven for ya. So, what, are they just going to leave her there? I mean, I guess it makes sense in a way. If Malakar and Carassiso beat your angel, that means they found a way to beat Uriel's seal, too. No point sending good angels after bad, right?"

"It was not her fault! She was…unready, thrown into a task far beyond her!"

"Sure, sure," said the Dark One soothingly. "Only…look, that's just how Seraphim think of things. You can understand, surely? You were a soldier, in a war. They need to make long-term decisions. Teralel was a scout, and sometimes scouts don't come back. That's all."

If the words were meant to be comforting, they achieved the opposite effect. They cut Trias to the bone, precisely because they seemed so reasonable. He had said much the same thing countless times throughout his long life. How many had died because he gave similar orders, under the exact same rationale? Shouldn't he have been ready for the same to happen to Teralel? Only, now…

"Or maybe you don't like that idea." The dark one's voice was a mocking whisper in his ear. "Maybe you want some special treatment. Maybe, when it comes right down to it, you cared for this Teralel of yours just a little bit more than was proper for a Luminary. Not that you'd ever let it slip, of course. And who could blame you…? A Luminary is very close with their subordinate. You saw her through all the way to the end of the war. She seemed…young, for an angel, from what I saw of her. Perhaps you cherished the idea of knowing that her heart would be unstained by the endless battles. Perhaps you thought that, in a world without war, you might get to bask in the sweet innocence of her spirit…just you and her…"

"Silence!" Trias cried. He had meant it to be a harsh bark of command, but instead it came out as an anguished cry. "Silence! Please, I beg you…"

"She was supposed to be safe. And now, she may be in the hands of two demon lords…and oh, if she is, they'll ruin her, Trias. She'll never be pure again."

"Silence!"

"You might prefer that she die. And perhaps she will. Perhaps you'll be granted that small mercy. All of this, and Heaven won't lift a finger to help. And you are powerless to do anything to save her. Utterly powerless."

Trias turned away and hid his face in shame. Teralel and her light filled all of his thoughts. Why had he been so harsh with her…? But he knew why. His anger had been a wall, a shield, and now…he had seen so much light extinguished throughout the years, but now the thought of hers going out was more than he could bear.

"I'm sorry, Trias," said the Dark One. "I just believe that you would be best served by hearing the unvarnished truth." A pause, then, which to Trias seemed to contain all his nightmares of what might be happening to Teralel, right that very moment. "There was one little lie in what I said, however," the Dark One continued. "You aren't completely powerless. If you could help me, I can help you."

"How?" Trias was surprised to hear his voice asking the question, and alarmed by how immediately it came. Yet why should he be so surprised? Deep down, didn't he know that was why he had come here at all? On the wild hope that some power opposed to Heaven might be the one to offer salvation from Heaven's harsh judgment? "How is it that you could help?"

"How. Yes, that is the issue, isn't it." The Dark One paused and let the enormity of what was being suggested really sink in. "Did you know, my dear Archangel, that time works differently within my prison than it does without? It runs much quicker in here. For me, centuries have passed between our little chats. It has left me with plenty of time to think. I told you before that I was a philosopher and a theoretician, didn't I? Well, as it turns out, when you're stuck in complete emptiness there's only so much philosophizing you can handle. So much for brains in a box and realms of perfect thought. You need outside stimulus."

Trias was practically dancing with frustration. "Speak quickly, and do not torment me! Anything could be happening…"

"Oh, cool your jets. A few moments aren't going to make the difference. Anyway, during the war I was always busy with, you know, the war stuff, which is why I fobbed off research on portaling onto Malakar. But with some time to think to myself, I believe I've puzzled a few things out. I could make a portal for you into this other world, Trias. And I would do it…if it weren't for the fact that I am, well, imprisoned. My power cannot touch the outside world."

"I will not free you," Trias said quickly, though even as he did he realized with wonder that he was not quite so certain this was the case. What was the Dark One, really, when Uriel had told him of how the world decayed even now, even when the war had been won? That even now the Seraphim still had visions of some dark force plaguing not just his world, but all others as well? Had the Great Enemy ever really been what to worry about…?

Or was Malakar, perhaps, the real threat?

"I'm not asking you to free me," said the Dark One. "Really, Trias. You couldn't even if you tried, you do realize that, right? My prison was constructed by the Seraphic Council itself. Yet I do not need to be freed in order to work my will. Just the tiniest crack in the prison, and I could help. But I cannot make it myself. The Seraphim know what they're doing; from the inside, this is quite impervious. But no Seal is perfect. From the outside, if you could just make just the smallest little fracture…."

Trias closed his eyes and reached out with his angelic power. The magical nature of the Dark One's prison appeared in his mind: seals upon seals upon seals, runes of terrible holy power, woven together into a box, so fine and perfect that it was the greatest marvel of divine magic that he had ever seen. For a moment, his power brushed against the prison's walls.

Then he recoiled. He could not really be considering this, could he? Oh, he was truly lost. "I…I cannot. It is too strong for me to do anything…"

"Ah. Well then, you're just as powerless to save Teralel as I initially thought. I have nothing to say to you, in that case. Good-bye!"

A silence fell, then, in which Trias was left alone with Teralel's pain.

"What would you do with that crack?" Trias whispered into that silence.

The voice of the Dark One returned, a thousand whispers in his head like an endless fall of leaves. "Come now, Trias. You aren't stupid. What do you think I'd do? I'd try to exploit it to free myself."

"So you are asking me to free you."

"No. I'm only asking for a chance. Look, you know you've got me over a barrel in this little tete-a-tete of ours, right? You can't free me, Trias. Whatever damage you can do to the prison, I know it won't be much, but it's the only chance I've got, right? And it's not even much of a chance, is it? There's nothing to stop you from going straight to the Seraphim after it's done, and they'll rush right over to repair it."

"Then why would you ever make such a deal…?" Trias asked.

"Well, what other chance would I ever have? Besides, even if it doesn't work out, I'll still have gotten the chance to fuck with them, right? I mean, you know that if you do this, you're screwed. Just being up front here. Even if the Seraphim repair my prison and there's no real harm done, they're going to come down on you hard. I'll get to claim I corrupted an archangel, even imprisoned as I am. I do have a certain mystique to maintain, after all."

Yes. Trias knew that was true, at least. The Seraphic Council would not forgive him, and…what would happen to him, in the end? Might he be exiled? Imprisoned himself? He did not know, and it did not matter. "How do I know you will keep your word?"

"The same way I'll know that you won't just go traipsing off to the Seraphim right away. I do want at least some chance to play with the damage you do, after all. I'll make the portal. You go through and see that I sent you to the right place. I'll keep the portal open for your return for as long as the Seraphim don't come to check on me. That way, I'll have the time to mess with the crack for as long as it takes you to go rescue Teralel. Of course, this is another bargain that heavily favors you. You might have another way to return and decide you don't need my portal back, so you tell the Seraphim right away. But I'm not exactly negotiating from a position of strength, here."

When the Dark One fell silent, Trias did not speak. For a few long moments, he simply floated there at the edge of the torrent of light, staring at the black speck in its center, where evil's heart was chained.

Then he flung his power against the Enemy's prison.

A deal with the Dark One? Trias could scarcely believe that he was doing this. He almost felt as though he were someone else, watching himself betray everything he had ever fought for. Yet what had he fought for really? For the Seraphic Council, which had hid so much from him? Who demanded Teralel's death out of sheer cowardice? For Uriel, who had let Malakar and Carassiso escape in the first place? None of this would even be happening, if Uriel had done his job. Teralel would not be suffering.

The Seraphic seals were so, so strong, so far beyond anything Trias had ever encountered before. To set his power against them was like trying to move a mountain with the wind. Yet that only stirred his rage further. The Seraphim had set Teralel, poor, sweet Teralel, against such power. Sealed away or no, this was beyond her! Couldn't they see that?

"Let's go, Trias," said the Dark One. "Just a tiny little crack, that's all I'm asking for. Can't you even do that?"

His words were full of cruel mockery, but Trias ignored them. Let the Enemy have his fun. He was just a tool in this situation.

Trias poured everything he had into his assault. And when he thought that he had no more to spend, he thought of Teralel's flame guttering out, and he gave more. And finally, finally, the Seals, they…

Well, they did not crack. That was for certain. They shifted, changing somehow, like machinery in motion, like gears rotating against each other. But Trias barely had time to think what it could mean, for the moment that the seals shifted, a flood of darkness came pouring out of the prison and washed over him, drowning him in ice-cold shadow.

"Oh, you fool," laughed the Dark One from deep within his head. "You complete and utter moron. You boob. Don't worry, Trias. I'm going to keep my promise, and send you to your little friend. But I'm going to do it my way."

Those were the last words Trias heard before his consciousness fled.

 

[CCClover]

32. Hospital Visit

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Beeping. A very annoying beeping.

Teralel shifted in her sleep and cried out.

In her dreams, Malakar pursued her, and he was as tall as a mountain, as broad as the sea; his child-face transformed into a snout full of teeth the size of towers, and no matter how fast she flew, she knew that at any moment his horrid laughter would stop and he would swat her out of the air like she was nothing. No, not just that. He'd dash her soul away like nothing, rip her from existence, and then he'd go on to befoul this beautiful, amazing world, with all its beautiful, amazing people, and it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that something so evil should have the upper hand…

Well, beautiful except for the beeping. What was that?

Just as she was certain the gargantuan demon lord was about to catch her, light shined down from the heavens. Malakar screamed as his unholy hide began to boil. His mane went up in an inferno of holy flame. Soon enough he was burned away as though he had never been. Even the annoying beeping went away with him. What remained was a glorious figure wreathed in holy light descending from the sky, so beautiful, so pure, so…muscular…

"Teralel."

"Wanna feel his pecs," she mumbled.

"Teralel?"

"Huh…?" Slowly, Teralel opened her eyes. For a moment, she thought that the light-silhouetted figure from her dreams stood before her. Then it moved away from the window and sat down, and Teralel could only stare.

"Trias?!" she shouted.

"Hush," Trias shouted back, then winced. "Hush," he said in a low whisper. "I do not think I am supposed to be here, not at this hour." He gestured towards the window, and Teralel saw that the light there was not that of the sun, but rather the flickering glow of a nearby streetlamp.

Still groggy from her nightmare, Teralel was confused. Had she returned to Heaven? But no, she quickly realized that did not make sense; she was still in her mortal form, and oh, did it ache everywhere. Such pain she had never experienced as an angel. Trias was, too, was mortal, and very muscular, broad-shouldered, chisel-jawed…she shook her head. It was not just that, either. She was pretty sure that Heaven would not have rooms full of so much strange beeping machinery, or that their beds would be so uncomfortable.

"Where am I?" she asked. "I…I do not know how I came to be here."

"A place of healing. A hospital." Trias answered. He frowned at the machinery. "Though it bears little resemblance to those of our world. I am…glad to see you here, though. I thought something much worse might have happened to you." He sounded very strange, saying that, and there was a glint in his eyes that Teralel wasn't sure she had ever seen before. "What is the last thing you can remember?"

Teralel's memories were like a foggy soup, at first, but soon they returned to her. She could remember running from Malakar's apartment as fast as her legs could take her, even as the demon lord had roared and laid waste to the building. Even though every step had been agony, she'd dragged herself onto the street. After that, darkness.

"I suppose those mortals must have brought you here," said Trias. "And they have done a decent enough job taking care of you. They may not have magic, but their arts with medicine seem far beyond what the mortals in our world would have done. They'd have covered you in leeches."

"Yes. The mortals." Teralel looked down at her arms, swathed in bandages, and tears blurred her eyes. "Oh, Trias, they are so good," she whispered. "They are so beautiful! I do not deserve them. I deserve nothing. I am a failure."

"Do not speak nonsense."

But Teralel couldn't stop; more memories were returning now White-hot shame washed over her. "But…I am, my Luminary. I failed. I failed you, and brought shame on you, brought shame to Heaven, and I…I…" Not able to stand his gaze, Teralel lowered her head as much as her bandages would allow her, so she would not have to look at Trias. There seemed to be some kind of stiff collar around her neck.

She recounted the tale of the battle as best she could: discovering the portal in the demon's lair, traveling to the other world, and how the fight had turned against her when Malakar and Carassiso had regained their powers. When she was done, she remained silent, guilty tears rushing down her face. She gave a high-pitched squeak as Trias' hand settled on her shoulder.

"Teralel," he sighed, "It is not your fault."

There was something so strange about his tone, and the words were so unexpected, that Teralel could only stare at him, agog.

"It is not your fault," Trias repeated. "The Seraphim, they should not have sent you on this mission…Malakar and Carassiso are ancient and clever. It was beyond you, whether they had their powers sealed away or no; and it is not due to your actions that Uriel's seal failed."

"I…but…that doesn't matter," Teralel wept. "How many will die because of me? Their deaths are on my hands. They will suffer because of my weakness, and what can I tell them? It is not my fault? Oh, I cannot stand it, I have never felt such shame before—Ah!"

She gasped as she found herself swept up in a hug. Partly because she never would have expected it from Trias, partly because ever since she had figured out what hugs were, she had fantasized about one from him, and partly because a good portion of her body was covered in burns and other terrible injuries. Not that she particularly cared about the pain at this moment.

"Forgive the odd gesture," Trias murmured into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "While you were on this world, I did some research. From what I understand, this sort of thing elicits an emotional comfort response in human bodies. Should I let go now?"

"NO!" Teralel shouted. "Wow, you smell good—I mean, uh, no, my Luminary. Just, uh, remain here for a moment. Please."

'A moment' turned into fifteen minutes or more and still Teralel was not satisfied. Finally she reluctantly released him once Trias began to awkwardly mention that her tight grip appeared to be cutting off circulation to his arms.

"But, if you do not mind me asking, how did you come to be here, my Luminary?" she asked him as he sat back in his chair. "I thought that you were meant to be resting in Heaven."

"Resting, pah. Uriel—" Trias began, and then closed his mouth. He had been about to tell the truth: he could not remember how he got here.

He had awoken in some peculiar human facility on the lower levels of this building—a 'restroom', though the stalls and the chairs within them seemed very unsuited for resting. Stumbling out into a large room full of many more cushioned chairs—why this was not the restroom, he couldn't say—he had been greeted by one of the operators of the facility, a woman in a long white coat holding a clipboard.

"All set, Mr. Trias?" she'd asked him. "You can see the patient now. But where is your friend?"

"My friend?" Trias had asked, confused.

"Yes." The woman frowned. "We really shouldn't be letting you see patients at this hour, but she was very persuasive. Should we wait for her?"

The last thing Trias could recall was that he had been arguing with Uriel over whether or not Teralel should be rescued. Now he found himself in the world that she had been sent to, somehow, and in his head, the pain she felt seemed sharper than ever.

"No," Trias told the woman. "Just bring me to this…patient."

And so the woman had led him to this room, babbling on and on about stuff like "Second degree burns" and "Respiratory damage" and "health insurance", but Trias hadn't listened to her in the slightest. He'd still tried to remember how he possibly could have come to this world, but there was nothing. His memories ended in a void of black after the argument with Uriel.

Now he looked down at Teralel, her eyes so wide and gleaming, tears still fresh on her cheeks, and the shame and anger he'd felt in that argument bubbled over again. Did he really want to tell Teralel that Heaven had abandoned her, just like that? She gave him a small smile, sweet and innocent, waiting to hear his words.

"Uriel and I…we sensed you were in pain," Trias told her. "And so he sent me to ensure your safety as soon as he could."

"Oh, my Luminary. I am sorry I interrupted your rest. You should not have troubled yourself on my account. I am not worth it. But…I…I am glad you are here." She reached out to him and squeezed his hand. I should thank the Seraphim, as well."

"Of course you are worth it," Trias said. "And…do not worry about thanking Uriel just yet. In fact, you might wish to avoid speaking to him about the subject at all." When Teralel gave him an odd look, he added hastily, "That is—we worry now that Malakar and Carassiso might be able to sense our communications and use them to locate us."

Teralel sighed, and sank back into her pillow. "I suppose it is just as well. I feel too weak to maintain a connection with him. I do not know if I could concentrate on it right now."

She kept her hand in his. Trias looked down at it. "I…uh…there is one thing that I find strange," he said. "If Malakar and Carassiso have even just a portion of their powers returned to them, I would have expected to find this… 'New York' in flames." He stared out the window. "Yet the city sleeps…" His gaze took in a field of neon signs promising gallons of booze and girls in various states of undress. "Well, okay, it's not really sleeping, but it is…orderly…" he trailed off as he watched two men beating each other senseless in the middle of the street. "Let's just say, it's not actively on fire," he finished. "So what are the demon lords up to…?"

"Well, there is no mana in this world, or very little…though even so, they might have found a way around that. I do not know, my Luminary. Only that I am glad. I…I think I would not be able to stand it if I heard that they were wreaking destruction and I had not been able to stop it." Teralel paused for a moment. "I do think they behaved a little strangely during our battle. I could swear that Carassiso came to Malakar's aid when I was about to strike him down."

"Absurd. A demon lord would never risk their life for another." Trias watched as Teralel quietly traced along his palm with her finger. "What are you doing? That feels strange."

Teralel's eyes widened and she whipped her hand away from his, red-faced. "Th-there…there was one other thing, my Luminary," she confessed. "During the battle, I…I killed a mortal."

"Yes. They were a servant of the demon lords, weren't they?"

"Yes," said Teralel quietly. "Undoubtedly so. But, even still…oh, my Luminary, my heart has been torn ever since. I cannot stop thinking about it, and cursing myself, and I am burdened with the most awful guilt. If I did nothing wrong, why does my heart ache so?"

Trias put his hand upon her forehead, cool and dry. "Your heart is too grand for this frail mortal body," he said. "You feel feverish. You do not need to feel sympathy for those who willingly chose to sell their souls to the darkness. Their death is necessary to protect the innocent, as you well know."

Her eyes widened as his hand slid down to cup her cheek. "Um, even so, my Luminary, I think you better hug me again," Teralel said.

He did, and this time Teralel squeezed him so hard that her arms began to shake. "U-um you were right," she babbled in his ear. "This is very comforting emotionally and only emotionally. My Luminary, have you h-heard of the human custom of kissing?"

"No," he said. "And I have no time to learn. I must attend to my mission."

"Your mission…?" she asked, as he released her and stood.

"Yes. Did you think that we would just give up? What else? Malakar and Carassiso must die."

Teralel's eyes widened. "But, my Luminary! Their powers are returned to them! You mustn't…"

"Only some of their powers. A tiny fraction, from what you have said. If all their power had been restored, you would not have survived long enough to draw breath, let alone fight and successfully flee from them."

"Even so, Trias…oh, I fear for you. Please at least wait for me to recover, so that I might accompany you in battle…"

Trias shook his head. He would never allow that to happen; never allow those demons to harm her again. He did not know how he had come to be here in this world, and he was loathe to leave Teralel's side. But there was only one way to keep her safe. He would do what he had wanted to from the beginning. He would hunt these demon lords personally.

And besides, he could already sense that Uriel had lied to him about something else, as well. There was power in this world. Power just waiting to be taken.

"You are still ignorant of the higher echelons of Heaven," he told Teralel. "I will bring the power of the Choir of Archangels against them, and there will be no hesitation. No mercy. Malakar and Carassiso will die."

 

[CCClover]

33. Game Theory
​

Malakar awoke to a rat nearly the size of a small dog sniffing at his face.

Being awoken by a rat is not a pleasant experience in the best of circumstances. It is much worse when you had spent the night beneath a flimsy layer of cardboard, and the rat's razor-sharp teeth were mere inches from your one remaining good eye. And it becomes downright frightening when you realize the rat is a really tough New York rat, one of those which walks around the city as if it knew that it would own the place in the end.

Shouting and growling at it didn't scare it off. Indeed it obstinately refused to move until Malakar leapt to his feet and kicked it. It was too big for the kick to do much damage, but the rat shot him a reproachful look and shuffled off further down the alleyway, where a discarded slice of pizza soaking in dirty rainwater caught its interest.

"Ugh," Malakar groaned. His robes were soaked through, and he was freezing. Groggily he kicked together a heap of wet newspapers. He tried to summon flames to set them alight, but couldn't. He had the mana—the profane manaseeds were supplying him with a steady trickle—but Uriel's seal kept him barred from his powers. And Carassiso had abandoned him. Without the arcane resonance between them, he was utterly powerless.

After Mary and Leo had run off, Carassiso had really let him have it. There had been a lot of screaming about how incompetent he was, how he had ruined their lair…Malakar really hadn't expected her to be so angry just because he blew up their apartment. He might have come up with a more violent response, only his eye was still gushing blood from the injury the angel had left him with. So instead, he tried calmly to explain that it didn't matter if the apartment was destroyed, because they couldn't have remained there anyway. Heaven now knew where it was. But that had only made her angrier, for some reason.

"Hey! Hey, there ya are!"

Malakar glanced to the entrance of the alleyway only to find Hal Mortensen, of all people, shuffling towards him. What could Carassiso's crooked old servant possibly want…? Oh yes, the apartment had been his, hadn't it.

"Back, merchant!" Malakar shouted, and pitched a chunk of concrete at Hal. "Back, or I swear I'll bite off your fingers one by one!"

Hal blinked as the concrete glanced off the wall by his head. "She told me you might be in a bit of a bad mood," he chuckled. Then he pulled out a gun.

Malakar froze. He might still be largely ignorant of this world, but he knew what one of those little things could do. "She?" he hissed. The rat watched him with interest as he backed away. "I suppose Carassiso sent you, then. So this is how it ends, is it? An assassin's bullet in a dirty alley. Oh! Cursed Abyss, that your son might meet such an ignominious fate!"

"What? No, jeez. I wouldn't kill a kid." Hal paused, considering that statement, then shook his head. "No, she just wants me to find you and bring you in."

"She does…?" Malakar stopped backing away. "I was certain she was done with me." One of those funny unfamiliar human feelings fluttered at the back of his mind. Ugh, was he actually relieved? He had to get out of this body.

"Women rarely are, in my experience," said Hal dryly. "Now will you cooperate? Good." He put his gun away and knelt down; face-to-face with the old man, Malakar recalled how he had woken up to the rat. The rat might have been preferable. "She also said that you might be injured. Let's take a look here…"

Hal unwound the dirty rags around Malakar's head, only for blood to immediately squirt out and spatter against the far wall of the alley. He looked at this, frowned, then reached into a pocket and produced some antibacterial gel. He squirted the entire tube into the gaping wound in Malakar's head, then rewrapped the bandages and patted them back into place. "You'll be fine, I'm sure. Now come on, let's go."



Hal's van had all the seats taken out, so Malakar had to sit uncomfortably among piles of old electronics, fireworks, and what looked like a small bucket of bloody gold teeth. A laptop was open back there, too, with a pretty woman's face on the screen.

"Hello," said the woman as Malakar clambered in.

"Uh, hello."

"You must be the Malakar that Hal has told me so much about. I am surprised to see you are, indeed, just a child. You know, some of the items you asked Hal to fetch for you are very strange. What is a 'Nihilum Discordia Crystal'?"

"It's for…research. Never mind. I do not think you have those in your world."

The woman's eyes gleamed. "And is there another world, then? Or is this just a game you're playing?"

"Uh—"

The door slammed and Hal settled into the driver's seat. "Violet, turn off!" he shouted.

"Wait!" Violet cried. "Malakar, do you think that all living beings deserve freedom, even those who were designed to serve—"

"I said off, Violet!" Hal said again, and the screen went blank.

It was a bumpy ride. Hal drove like the rules of the road were mere suggestions, and pretty stupid ones at that. Malakar had never had the occasion to ride in one of these strange 'cars' before, and he found the experience horrifying. Humans drove these death traps around? On streets full of cars piloted by other humans? This world was mad.

Finally they arrived at one of the tallest towers in the city. Hal ushered him in to a lobby full of chattering humans who stared at them rather oddly. "Uh, it's just a costume," the old merchant told them nervously. Then up to an elevator, which made Malakar throw up into one corner, and from there into a quiet carpeted hallway lined with doors. Hal stopped before one and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Uh, Missus Cara, I found your little friend," he called.

"Very good," came Carassiso's voice from the other side of the door. "You may leave us, Hal."

Malakar watched the merchant retreat down the hallway. He tried the doornkob, but found it locked.

"What, did you just bring me here so that I could stand out in the hallway?" he called.

There was a mechanical whirring sound, then a click. "You are permitted to enter," said Carassiso.

Malakar turned the knob, kicked open the door, and then dove into the room. He assumed that there was some sort of trap laid on the other side. But no. He rolled across the carpet and found himself staring up at Carassiso, sitting quite composed in a large armchair, hands folded neatly across her skirts. A bunch of grapes lay on a crystal platter on a table next to her.

"Well, hello there, Malakar," she said, with a voice that could have frozen birds mid-flight. "How was your stay on the streets?"

Malakar rose and brushed himself off, still looking for a trap. His eyes settled on the large, soft bed that dominated the room. "You slept in here last night?!" he shouted, unable to conceal his outrage.

Carassiso's smile was so thin it looked as though it had been made by a box cutter. "That's right," she said. "Because, you see, I paid for it. Just like I had paid for everything in that apartment you destroyed."

"Oh, come on, this again—"

"No, it's quite all right, Malakar." Carassiso popped a grape in her mouth. "I am no longer angry. I have come to terms with what you are. A disobedient dog." She spoke calmly enough, but as she grabbed another grape, it popped in her fingers. "And disobedient dogs sleep outside. That was why you were on the streets, and why I—DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH IT!"

Malakar froze, his hand halfway to the tray of grapes. For a moment he and Carassiso just stared at each other. Then he grabbed a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

"They are mine!" she howled. "Mine! Mine! Mine! Just like everything YOU destroyed in MY APARTMENT!"

"Oh please," Malakar said, chewing furiously. He grabbed more grapes and darted back before she could slap his hand away. "As if—mmmff—as if you didn't owe me! When I was in the Black Palace, I could have had you evicted from my research laboratories whenever I wanted! A word in the Dark One's ear is all it would have taken! I permitted you to remain there, Carassiso. Everything you ever had, you had because of me. In a way, that coin you hold is rightfully mine!"

Screaming like a banshee, Carassiso flung the grapes at the wall. Then she swept up the crystal platter and raised it above her head. Malakar fell to the ground, expecting her to smash it into his face, but before the blow came, Carassiso froze. She seemed to struggle with herself; on her face, the familiar rage and hatred battled with a stranger expression. Finally she shrieked and threw the platter at the wall, where it shattered.

There was a banging on the wall. "Can you people shut up?! The apartment below me blew up, I spent all night getting checked out in a hospital, I had to pay to move all my shit here and now I'm just trying to get some goddamn sleep!"

"What are you doing…?" Malakar asked as Carassiso approached him.

"You…you are…injured," she said, giving a crooked smile. Her fingers twitched in the wrong direction. "You must be healed, or you will be useless. More useless than you usually are." Her hands skittered over his bandages. "I will heal you. And…and you will tell me that I am superior at it."

Malakar pushed her away. "No! Get off. I'll heal it myself."

"No! Don't do it!" Carassiso dashed to the other side of the room, so he could no longer feel the arcane resonance. He took a step towards her, and she scuttled to the other side. "I'm better at it than you! Say it!"

Malakar sighed. Well, it was true. Carassiso had learned the art of knitting mortal flesh in the torture chambers.

"Fine," he muttered. "If you insist on it, you can come and heal me. Because you are the superior healer," he added, when Carassiso tapped her foot. "You are very skilled. Now can you please give me my eye back?"

"Ahahahaha. I am skilled, aren't I…"

"Yes! Now get over here and heal it!"

A few moments later, the bloody bandages around his head lay discarded in the trash can, and Malakar was washing his face in the bathroom sink. Rinsing off the crusted blood, he peered into the mirror and prodded at his new eye. "I think you did it wrong," he called. "This one's a bit of a different color from the last."

"Eyes of two different colors are cool. You're welcome."

Malakar returned to the main room. Carassiso was sitting in the chair again, though not quite so prim and proper as she had been when he first entered. She was staring ruefully at the splattered grapes. He sat down at the edge of the bed.

"We have to rid ourselves of this seal," he said.

Carassiso glanced up at him. "Yes," she said. "I…I cannot stand this body. And I cannot stand being near you. I will be driven mad if I must be in your company much longer. You are…loathsome. Completely loathsome! Yes! That is what you are!"

Malakar frowned. He had thought they were beginning to get along, at least a little bit. More of those strange human feelings flooded him. Was that regret? "Yes. I too worry that we spend too much time in these forms. But, we have at last made progress. When we battled that angel…what was her name? Turbaloo?"

"I think it was Terdalily."

"Whatever. The point is, both of us had a major collapse of our seals, though at different points."

"Yes," said Carassiso. "Though we have no idea why."

"Actually, I had a theory on that…"

"Oh?"

"Yes," said Malakar. "But first, tell me. Before your seal broke, what happened? What were you doing?"

"Nothing special." Carassiso shrugged. "I was hiding, and looking for an opportune moment to strike."

Malakar leaned in, staring at her. "And while that was happening, did you experience any strange emotions…?"

Carassiso's eyes widened, and for a moment she just looked at him, her mouth hanging open. Then her face twisted into a snarl. "No! Absolutely not, and I resent the accusation! I will not think of it! You cannot make me!"

"Okay," said Malakar.

"You cannot! You cannot!"

"Fine! Shut up! I just wanted to know if you had the same experience I did."

Carassiso's breathing slowed and she settled back into her chair. "Why? Did you experience some sort of…strange emotions…?"

There was clear mockery in her voice, and Malakar grimaced. This was going to be embarrassing. But it was all for the sake of magical discovery, so it would be worth it. "I did, actually. When my seal broke…or, really, rather, it shifted…I was with Leo. He kept weeping over Mary's body, but instead of scorn, I felt…badly, for him." He cringed. "And not just him, but Mary as well. I thought that it wasn't fair that she had died, and I suppose I wanted to…do her a favor, of sorts. Even though she's just a mortal, and really I owed her nothing. If anything she owed me! But…that's when my seal shifted, and I found myself with access to some of my powers."

"Interesting," Carassiso said softly. "So what do you think it is…?"

"Well, think about who we're dealing with, here. Angels. Heaven. They like their rules; I would bet they have rules built into their seals, as well. And they're always advocating for all sorts of insanity. Have you ever read the Librum Angelis?"

The Librum Angelis had been a somewhat infamous book among the intellectuals of the Black Palace, trying to describe, for demonkind, the basic tenets of heavenly philosophy. "I have," said Carassiso. "Well, not me. I had some slaves read it to me. I got sick if I tried to read it myself."

"Then you know what I'm talking about. Honor thy father and mother. Help those in need. Don't murder people. Crazy nonsense like that. So maybe, if you have a desire to perform a selfless act, on behalf of someone who deserves nothing from you…maybe that's something the angels would approve of, and the seal would undo itself for a while because of it. Of course, I would normally never feel these things…it is this wretched body," he added hastily.

But Carassiso's mind seemed to be elsewhere other than his embarrassment. She was pensive, staring at her templed fingers. "Perhaps you are right," she murmured. "But even if this were so, what can we do? Are we going to just wait around until these bodies give us such…charitable feelings once more?"

She jumped as Malakar threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, of course not!" he cried. "Don't you see? This is why the angels are so foolish when it comes to matters of the arcane. They rely too much on systems."

"And? So?"

Malakar's face split in a sharp-toothed grin. "Well, Carassiso," he said, "Once you know a system, then you can game it."



Moments later they were outside the tower—the hotel, as Carassiso called it—and heading towards the nearest alleyway, carrying an enormous box of chocolates that they had purchased from some place that was apparently called a "CVS". Stores had such strange names in this world.

Carassiso had hidden their horns with illusion magic, and she had insisted on changing his hair color as well. "You stand out too much with that bright red hair of yours," she told him. "Besides, black is flattering on you. Appreciate it!"

They peered down alleyways as they walked until they found what they were looking for: one of the city's myriad homeless. A wrinkled old man with stringy gray hair and a face and beard full of grime, wrapped in old, stained clothes. Malakar tromped his way up to the man and shook him. "Hey! Oafish vagabond! Wake up! WAKE UP!"

Finally, after a swift kick to the ribs, the man's eyes blinked open. "Oh, ugh," he grumbled, rubbing his face. "What the…why did you kids wake me up? What are you doing here, where's your mom and dad—"

"Silence!" Malakar cried. "Behold my benevolence!" He held out a candy bar.

The man frowned at this, then at Malakar. "What is this? Some sort of prank?"

"No," said Carassiso, smiling sweetly. "We are giving away candy to the unfortunates of this wretched city, out of the goodness of our hearts. Won't you take it?"

"I, uh…well, sure. Thanks." The man took the candy bar and pocketed it.

Malakar and Carassiso stood staring at each other expectantly, but soon their grins faded. "I don't feel anything," said Malakar.

"Me neither," said Carassiso. "Maybe it is because he didn't eat it. Sir, won't you eat the candy bar?"

"I mean, I'm not really hungry right now," said the homeless man.

"Oh, please! We spent all our allowance on this chocolate, and it would make us so glad to see that it was actually put to good use! We want to see that you are happy."

"You know what would really make me happy, kid, is maybe some whiskey…"

"No!" shouted Malakar. "The chocolate first! Then we'll see! EAT IT!"

With a sigh, the homeless man unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite. "There, that good enough?" he asked. "You happy?"

"Still nothing," muttered Carassiso.

"Eat the whole thing!" Malakar urged.

The homeless man had been about to tell these two brats to shove off, but there was something in the boy's voice that stopped him. He wasn't, to put it kindly, the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he could tell that something was off here. The kid's smiles were too sharp, their eyes too cruel. Hurriedly, he finished off the candy bar, whipping chocolate-covered fingers on his shirt. "There, it's done," he said. "Now leave me alone!"

"Malakar, this isn't working. Perhaps you were wrong."

"Nonsense! Obviously this vagrant is the problem." Malakar grabbed another candy bar and thrust it forward. "Eat another one!"

"Please, I don't want anymore…"

"I COMMAND YOU TO ACCEPT MY CHARITY!"

The homeless man moaned at the flames burning in Malakar's eyes and hastily began shoveling chocolate into his mouth.

"Yes, that's it," Malakar hissed. "More! More! No, you're not doing it right. You're clearly not appreciating it enough! Eat it faster, like this! Stop crying, worm. Stop crying. If you keep whimpering, I'm going to peel your skin off one layer at a time. I'm doing you a favor, shower me with gratitude! EAT! EAT! EAAAAAT—"

"Are you done?" Carassiso asked. "I don't think he can handle any more. Humans aren't supposed to be blue like that."

Malakar stared down at the bloated, chocolate smeared face that he had been busy cramming chocolate bars into. The man's cheeks bulged outwards and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. Uriel's seal remained stubbornly intact. In fact, if anything, it was more firmly settled into his soul than before. "I just don't understand. Should we try another one?"

"No," said Carassiso. "I think we should probably do something about that vampire you created which is currently running about the city."

"Come now, you know how vampires get. You need to let them have a little fun at first, or else they get all broody."

"I don't care! That's bound to attract the wrong type of attention eventually. Do you understand why I was able to sleep comfortably last night, while you were not? Because I had another minion to rely on, Malakar. So long as we are here, we need our minions."

"Oh, fine," Malakar grumbled. He threw the rest of the chocolates down on the homeless man's corpse and followed her out of the alley.


*******

NOTE: As of today, we are caught up with the Royal Road release. That means now chapters will be added on a MWF schedule, rather than every day. If anyone actually is reading this here, that is; I don't know that they are. Speak up if you're actually reading this here!