Book 6: Chapters 44 and 45 (Wherein There Are Two Fallen Angels)
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Chapter 44

Those of us in the know agreed on a plan quickly. The mundane soldiers knew that we had fabricata communicators they couldn’t listen in on, so it had been easy enough to pretend we’d been called away for another duty.

“What about the magical scans?” asked the friendly fellow who’d gotten me the energy drink. “Our orders are clear; nobody gets in without your say-so.”

Gabriella fished a wand from her pocket and gave it a quick charge, making the runes glow a brief orange. “This isn’t as good as letting Magpie do his magic, but if you wave it over somebody and it glows green, arrest them.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be back soon.”

He took the wooden fabricata and nodded. “Good luck, then.”

Once we were out of earshot, Mariko whispered to Gabriella. “What is that wand really for?”

“Once it’s done, it’ll cast St. Bernard’s Charm any time I feel like,” said Gabriella. “Right now, it’s junk code. They can’t hurt themselves with it.”

“Well played,” I said as we set off in a jog towards the Parliament building. Between jogging at the school and The Gauntlet, even Mariko and Kiyo weren’t complaining anymore.

“What now?” asked Gabriella. “And why are all of us along to confront your uncle? Seems like personal business.”

“You came up with the scam earlier,” I said. “I’d thought you were already on board.”

“Of course I’m going to back you up,” she said. “We’re on the same squad. So, what’s happening?”

“I do know him,” I said. “But he’s no uncle of mine. He’s a suspected demonkin agent.”

“And he’s running around free?” asked Gabriella, a skeptical tone in her voice.

“They’ve never made it stick,” I said.

“Then what’s that about drugging Kiyo?” she demanded.

“He’s good at covering his tracks,” said Kiyo. “Don’t wanna talk about it more than that.”

“Did he—”

“I said, I don’t wanna talk about it more than that,” she said.

Well, that shut it down. Kiyo’s obstinance was paying off, for once.

Once we were near the building, I needed a way to keep Gabriella from overhearing anything untoward. There was also a very real chance that I’d have to do something lethal to Mr. Dante, so I didn’t want Mariko there, staying my hand, either.

“You two stay outside,” I said. “We need my Mimic to track him, but if he sees me, he’s liable to bolt. Come along, Kiyo. We’ll need your skills.”

“Wait, why aren’t we going with you?” said Gabriella.

“‘Cause I can’t keep all four of you invisible at once,” said Kiyo, following me as I strode towards the building.

“We’ll call if we need anything,” I said.

Just before we got out of earshot, Gabriella addressed Mariko.

“Do you ever feel out of the loop?”

“All the time,” replied Mariko. “You will get used to it.”

********************

“Your hand’s sweaty, Magpie,” said Kiyo as we strode through the Parliament building. Thanks to weeks of patrols, nobody gave Kiyo much mind. Though, if they had, they might have noticed her fingers were intertwined with nothing.

She couldn’t be invisible herself, since several of the doors were controlled by key cards, and it would arouse more suspicion if they simply opened themselves after Kiyo’s card was scanned. However, I didn’t want Dante spotting me, so Kiyo projected The Death of Light to hide me from sight.

“Shh,” I said. “I need to concentrate.” He already had a substantial lead on us, though he’d been slowed by the absolute mess of parking near the main Parliament building. My head pounded as I scanned for Dante’s wan magical signature. Thank the Dark Lord the mundane soldier had gotten me that energy drink; the hit of caffeine had given me a second wind and banished my headache.

“I don’t like this,” said Kiyo.

“Yes, I’m sorry you have sully yourself with my touch again,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“What? No, not that,” she said. “I mean it’s the two of us versus God knows what.”

“Yes, and you without Bernadette,” I said.

“Not like they’d let me walk in with her,” she replied.

“You ought to file for a discrimination suit,” I said. “Not letting in your rifle is profiling.”

Kiyo snorted at that. “The UK hasn’t been cool with guns in a long time. Of course she’s going to get the side-eye.”

It occurred to me that this was the longest conversation I’d had with Kiyo in weeks. She’d been weird and evasive since we’d been paired up. Funny how a mutual antipathy got her to open up.

A pity it had to end; there were too many people around to avoid being overheard. “I think I’ve got him,” I said after a quick scan.

“You lead, then,” she said. “I can’t see if you point.”

It tried my best to look natural as I pulled her in my wake, but I’m sure it looked like some sort of stage show as I changed direction.

I was saved a Mimic Sight scan when a familiar, sulfurous stench hit my nose from the direction I’d tracked Dante. It was exactly like what had flooded the car when Amanda Smythe had assaulted me with her magic. It led us to a door that had been propped open, leading down a narrow hallway. Rather kind of Dante to leave us a trail of breadcrumbs.

The hallway opened into a cubicle farm. Kiyo turned herself invisible before we were spotted by any of the office drones. She almost needn’t have bothered; they wore earbuds and were buried in their phones or computers. These didn’t seem to be the orderlies or anybody with government authority; they were likely filing orders, balancing inventories, and the thousand other tedious tasks that make modern life possible.

Somebody had an office in the back, though, and I guessed that’s who Dante was there to meet.

“You stopped,” whispered Kiyo.

“We’re close,” I said, quietly rapping on the wall to cue Kiyo in. The stench of sulfur was almost overwhelming.

“Then we need to get Mariko and Hernandez,” said Kiyo. “You’re tired and all I’ve got is my sword.”

“It’s not physical tiredness; I just won’t be slinging around many spells,” I said. “It shouldn’t come to that; we’re just here for recon.”

“You’re pretty optimistic, man,” she said.

“Well, Gabby doesn’t know the whole truth, and Mariko…”

“Yeah, useless if there’s a scrap,” she said with a sigh. “Can’t call for help from Hiro, either. Life would be a lot easier if you weren’t… well, you.”

“Ms. Jones, you don’t know how often I’ve thought the same thing,” I said. “Hold on. Use that trick you used back at the Serving Wizards’ House. No sense going in blind.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” I couldn’t see her, but the citrus and vanilla scent of her affinity strengthened as she placed her hand on the wall. The Death of Light made a transparent porthole in the wall the width of a beer bottle at around knee level. “This is just a hallway; should be safe to head on in.”

As soon as we were through the unlocked door, we winked back into view. “Phew,” said Kiyo, wiping a trace of sweat from her forehead. “Haven’t had to make two people invisible for a bit.”

“You did a splendid job,” I said.

“Sure,” she said, clearly not believing a word of my praise. She belatedly released my hand.

It wasn’t much of a hallway; it was wide enough for us both to stand comfortably, but it was just a bit of vanity for A. Whitman, Manager of Maintenance and Groundskeeping, just as much as having his name printed on the door.

“Lemme check again,” whispered Kiyo, bending down to repeat her trick. “Yup, he’s in there. Don’t see who he’s talking to, though. What’s the play?”

“I’m not going to let him out of my grasp this time,” I said, checking my side to confirm that my fabricata rapier was still there. “If Dante’s here, he’s going to tell me why, and damn the consequences.”

“Gonna seem weird if two wizards bust in and he’s talking with a normie, though,” she countered. “What’s our cover?”

I thought it over for a moment before I tapped my earpiece, bringing it back to life. “Mariko, Gabriella, do you read?”

“About time,” said Gabriella.

“Is everything alright?” asked Mariko, the worry obvious in her voice.

“We tracked him down, but we’re going to need your help,” I said. “There’s a problem with the sprinkler system near the Parliament building.”

“There is?” asked Mariko.

“That’s where you come in, my dear,” I said. “Make it happen so I have an excuse to talk with maintenance.”

There was a brief pause before there was a rustle of cloth that I took to be her nodding. “I can make one of the sprinkler heads rust.”

“Splendid. Soren out.” Another tap and we were alone again. “Make sure your earpiece is off, too; there’s bound to be things said we don’t want anybody overhearing.”

“Right,” she said, taking it out and pocketing it. “I-I’ll let you do the talking. My heart’s going, like, a million beats a minute.”

“Nice to know I can still have that effect on you,” I said, instantly regretting the joke, even as her pale skin flushed red. “Sorry, it just slipped out. You know teasing is how I relieve stress.”

“Wh-whatever,” she said, quickly turning away. “Let’s g-get your man.”

The trick to going where you aren’t invited is to act like you belong. Mariko and Gabriella were providing me the excuse, so I opened the door like I owned the place.

“Good morning! I’m here to lodge a complaint about…”

My voice trailed off, and I realized just how narrow Kiyo’s view had been. Dante crouched in front of a desk in the stuffy office, and what I assumed to be A. Whitman lay unconscious on the ground next to him. The entire room stank of sulfurous magic.

My damn softer instincts took over and I darted over to the prone man, shoving Dante aside. There weren’t any marks on him, but the heavyset man grimaced and groaned with obvious pain.

I whirled about to face Dante. “What did you do to him?”

Dante scuttled backwards on all fours; for all his bluster, he knew what I could do when I was serious.

Once he was a safe distance away, he held up his hands. “Ain’t my doing, mate! Wait, what’re you doing here to start with?”

“I could ask you the same question,” I said.

“I’ve got an appointment,” he said. “Confirmed with security and everything. Do you?”

Kiyo was being awfully quiet, and a quick glance around the room turned up no sign of her. That was just as well; let her watch from the shadows, undetected, just in case Dante tried something.

I propped the unconscious man into a sitting position, lightly patting the side of his face. He didn’t respond right away. Figuring that everyone there knew I was a demon, I cast a basic spell under his nose. “Fulgeruk!”

The demonic smelling salts did their job, and his bloodshot eyes shot open.

“Our Father Below, Malthus!” he snapped.

I sprang back, whipping out my rapier in a practiced motion. “It seems my sympathy was wasted on you.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” he raved. “Your damn sympathy!”

“You seem to know me well! You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Whitman,” I said, before pressing the blade to his throat. “Well, a rhetorical disadvantage. You’re going to tell me what you and Fera’s lapdog over here are up to, and then I’ll decide how long you’ll both keep breathing.”

“If I don’t report in, Mistress Fera is going to know you had something to do with it,” said Dante, eying my sword warily.

“Will she? If there’s no trace, it could be anything.” I countered, putting enough pressure on the blade to draw blood. “Either way, perhaps I’m just a tad cranky from overwork. Perhaps I’m tired of demonkin dying of a mysterious rot in my presence and spoiling my good time. Perhaps I’m tired of turning around and seeing Dante’s ugly face. Most of all, perhaps I’m willing to roll the dice if I don’t like what I hear.”

Mr. Whitman fixed me with an angry glare a moment before his lips curled back in a feral grin. “There’s the real Malthus; bluff and swagger to cover up your soft underbelly. You don’t have it in you.”

“Let me correct what I said before; you think you know me well,” I said, feeling like he might have hit a little close to home. “You have until the count of three. One…”

“Oh, forget this!” Whitman tensed for a moment before fainting dead away, collapsing onto his back.

I whirled about, pointing my blade at Dante. “I guess I’ll take it out of your hide, then.”

“No need for that, mate,” he said. “Just be patient.”

“What the devil are you…” The stench of sulfur had been obvious before, but I nearly wretched as it assaulted my nose.

Mr. Whitman’s body convulsed a few more times before going still. I hunched over to check his pulse, hoping Kiyo had the presence of mind to cover me. It was still there, though faint.

I risked a glance with Mimic Sight as the stench increased again. It wasn’t Whitman’s doing; he had no magical signature at all. Yet, the air above him was absolutely full of energy, to the point that it was nearly blinding. It had the same distorted, torn look as Wendy and Major Smythe at first, before coalescing into a sphere the size of a basketball. The sphere spun in midair a few times before it began to elongate.

I switched back to my regular vision as my headache returned with interest, but the view didn’t change much. I was still presented with a golden sphere that grew and twisted, reminding me of a child playing with modeling clay.

What to do? I nearly took a swipe at it with my sword, but ruptured spells tend to vent their pent-up energy rather violently. This was an unknown magical phenomenon; not a spell I could copy, or else I’d have felt the familiar click in the back of my mind as Mimic took a snapshot. That implied a hostile affinity.

So, I decided on the better part of valor. “Take cover!” I shouted, springing behind Whitman’s desk. Surely Kiyo would take the hint? Surely?

I didn’t have long to worry about Ms. Jones as the brilliant light faded away. Shooting to my feet, I leveled my blade again, ready to face whatever Dante had to throw at me.

Or, so I thought. The rapier nearly slipped from my nerveless fingers at the shock of it all. “What the devil are you doing here?”

The charcoal-skinned beauty flipped long, blonde hair out of her eyes, her casual motions making my heart flutter. “I could ask you the same question.”

Chapter 45

You never forget your first.

Oh, Fera, daughter of Girdan wasn’t the first woman I’d been with; you’ll recall how she made me wait. My first had been a devilmaid prostitute Girdan hired for me at the tender age of thirteen. He’d wanted to give me something to think about besides, and I quote “endlessly pining over your mother”, after I’d been under his care for two weeks. Such a sensitive soul, Girdan was.

However, Fera was the first woman I’d ever been smitten with. She had the sort of natural beauty that only the finest glamour magics could provide, the effect only enhanced by a well-fitted business suit that was open across the chest.

If she hadn’t been blessed with two glorious, curled ram’s horns, she could have graced the cover of any fashion magazine with her near-perfect features. She had also influenced my tastes in other ways, and despite the danger, my eyes drifted downwards instinctively.

“Fera, my dear,” I said. “You’re looking well. Though, it looks like you had more work done.”

“Had work done?” she said, her sultry voice making the harsh syllables of High Demonic sound almost lyrical. “Malthus, you know me better than that! I’m a self-made woman; remember, I’m the one who Fleshcrafted away your little hornlets.”

“As if I’d forget that,” I said, unconsciously scratching at my head. The petty insult was like a splash of cold water across my face, dispelling the fog of seeing my old crush in the flesh.

She giggled coquettishly. “You sound so sore! From where I sit, nothing much lost with that.”

“Perhaps you should have stopped making yourself a little sooner? You look a tad overinflated,” I said, shifting back to my native tongue. After a year of barely speaking High Demonic aloud, I had to choose my words carefully.

She rolled her eyes and let out a harsh bark of a laugh. “I just popped out of that human dolt and you’re asking about my tits. You really haven’t changed.”

“True enough,” I said. “Frankly, seeing you on this side of Our Father Below’s domain at all was the real shock; the rest is just details. Care to share them?”

“Maybe,” she said, baring her teeth in a playful grin. “Though your girlfriend, Mariko Yamada, might complain. You two are rarely apart these days, I hear.”

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” I said. “Your man Dante has been stalking my friends online. Did he share pictures of them with you? Don’t tell my you were jealous of her.”

“Psht,” she said, waving away my theory before tucking her arm under her chest. “It wasn’t for you. When you’ve mastered your form, it’s like trying out a new hair style. I’ll probably go back when I’ve tired of it. Though I can tell you’re enjoying it.”

“If you say so,” I said, my tone light and playful, which only served to irritate her more.

I stood a little straighter and let my sword arm fall to my side. I needed to look calm and collected with her; demons can smell weakness, and with my magical reserves flagging, there was plenty to smell.

However, she didn’t have any way of knowing how much Mimic Sight had sapped me, and she knew what I could do at full strength. Hell, knocking down Big Ben was why she’d invited me to her father’s room. So, it was time to bluff.

My eyes flicked around the room; still no sign of Kiyo, and Dante was keeping his distance now that his mistress was around.

“Now, let’s get back to business,” I said. “As you so artfully put it, you just ‘popped out of that human dolt’. Where did you pick up that trick?”

She tapped her foot and cupped her chin. “Well… I suppose there’s no harm in letting you in on my affinity. After all, you’re leaving this room on my side or in pieces.”

I didn’t reply; it wasn’t good manners to interrupt a lady.

“I discovered my magic at a young age. One day, my body lost all cohesion when I was trying to slip behind a cupboard for hide and seek,” she said. “I almost thought I’d died; I drifted around Versailles for an hour before I happened to stumble into one of the goblin scullery maids. That’s when I discovered my true power: possession. I can slip into anybody’s body and seize control.”

It seemed I owed Sergeant Lakhdar an apology, though I was still correct in most cases. She simply had a normal, rational magical affinity.

I gulped. Normal and rational, perhaps, but terrifying in its applications. The gears in my head turned as a lot of details fell into place. “Most anybody; I fought you off when you were inside of Major Smythe.”

“You just had to be so damn difficult. Despite it all, you’re devil enough to give me troubles.” Her scowl was more adorable than terrifying, the downside of perfect features. “I thought you’d figured me out, then. The Dark Lord, may he reign until the moon crumbles to dust, knows I kept dropping enough hints.”

“If that was you, I want the sympathy I wasted on Wendy Bailey back,” I said.

She laughed. “Oh, the look on your face when I ejected from her was exquisite. You looked so worried and gallant when you rushed in to help. You really are one of them, now.”

Fera took a step forward, and I raised my sword reflexively. “Oh, put that away. You wouldn’t get the chance to use it if I really meant you harm.”

“I’ll have to insist, given the circumstances,” I said.

She rolled her eyes as she twisted her fingers. “You always did want to do it the hard way. Eylen.”

Full-blooded demons are superhumanly strong, which Father neglected to pass down to me. Fera wasn’t the most athletic young lady, but I’d give her the edge in a straight fistfight with a man twice her size. However, I was used to the imbalance from years of duels, and I was the only one who was armed, so I was confident if she wanted to go there.

However, this was no straight fistfight. She had cast Haste on herself; to borrow a term from human technology, she overclocked her muscles and reflexes to double her speed.

A pity for her I’d been dealing with Hiro Takehara for the better part of a year, and she was no Hiro Takehara. I still had the desk between us and she chose the shortest path around, giving me just enough time to hurl the wheeled office chair in her path. I could just catch the startled look on her face before she tripped, plowing shoulder-first into a filing cabinet.

Even as I felt a thrill of triumph, I noticed that the metal front of the cabinet had bent, but her exposed charcoal skin only bore a light gash.

She whirled around, her yellow eyes flashing with rage. Her words came out too quickly to make out, but what I could grasp wasn’t very ladylike.

“Mistress!” Dante rushed at me from the side, splitting my attention at just the wrong moment. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the other side of the office with an empty hand, a sore gut, and a spinning head.

“Magpie!”

Kiyo’s distressed call froze us all in place; Fera had risen to her feet and cast a minor healing spell on her wounded shoulder, while Dante was moving to finish the job his mistress had started.

“Oh ho,” said Fera as she dispelled her Haste. Her swivelling head reminded me of a falcon sizing up its prey. “It seems you didn’t come into the lion’s den by yourself.”

My words came out as a wheeze as I struggled to return the breath to my lungs.

“That’s the Sheila you were askin’ about during the call with you and your dad,” said Dante, trying in vain to find her. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”

“Kiyo…” I managed.

“Oh, the invisible one?” asked Fera, tilting her head as she zeroed in on Kiyo’s location. “Good thing I came prepared. Mallensturm!”

Before I could do more than rise to my knees, Fera’s magic filled the air with a hail of glittering sparks that coating everything in a cone in front of her, outlining a familiar form in a spattering of red and orange.

“Got you!” crowed Fera, her dark skin turning a blinding gold again.

“Magic Bolt!” Kiyo’s spell was perfectly cast, flying straight through the brilliant mass of energy that had been Fera’s body and straight through the abused filing cabinet on the other side of the room. She only had time to let out a muffled scream before the cloud surrounded her,  settling onto her like a second skin. The glittering energy faded, flowing into her body like water into a sponge.

I’d only just regained my feet when a triumphant looking Kiyo spun around to face me.

“And now you’re going to behave and listen to my proposal.” The voice was Kiyo’s, but the aristocratic High Demonic left no doubt as to who was speaking.

“You have my undivided attention,” I said, my stomach sinking.


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