“And why have you been expecting us?” I asked. “Has news of the battle at the Jealous Heart preceded us?”
“What? There was a battle? With whom?” Belial asked, looking concerned.
“The Skitterlings.” I sighed. “I am afraid there are considerably less of them to guard the Jealous Heart than there were.”
“Oh dear…” Belial made a tsking noise I remembered well and shook his head. “I’m afraid that is not good news. But this is the first I have heard of it.”
“Well then, why were you expecting us?” I led Kurex a little closer so that I could help Gwendolyn dismount.
“Because of Druaga—I understand you passed a night at the Hotel Infernal?” Belial raised one grizzled gray eyebrow at me.
“Yes, we did,” I said neutrally. “He offered Gwendolyn a grave insult. I was obliged to defend her honor.”
“Most commendable, my Lord,” Belial murmured. “But I’m afraid that now Druaga is bringing a complaint against you to the Council of Elder Demons.”
“Why?” Gwendolyn asked as I helped her down from Kurex’s back. “Because Laish burned his, uh, horn off?”
“Among other things,” I added.
The gray eyebrow went up again.
“Yes, I heard about that,” Belial remarked. “But no, that is not the issue. Druaga claims you have stolen something from him—something incredibly valuable and rare and he wants it back along with recompense for his pain and suffering.”
“Is this about my shoe again?” Gwendolyn asked, putting a hand on her hip. “Because that is just ridiculous!”
Belial shrugged. “He has not said what the item is. Apparently he is reluctant to disclose it until the Council convenes—if they agree to hear his case, that is.”
“This is ridiculous,” I growled. “Druaga is simply upset that I would not allow him to sample some of Gwendolyn’s soul. He has no claim on us—any damages or losses he sustained were a direct result of his own arrogance and rude behavior.”
“Hopefully the Council will see it that way as well.” Belial nodded sagely. “For now, we can only wait and see. But in the meantime, may I show you around the Citadel of Knowledge, young lady?”
He turned to Gwendolyn and offered his arm in a courtly gesture.
She looked at me uncertainly and I nodded reassuringly.
“You are as safe with Belial as you are with me,” I told her. “Go and explore the Citadel if you like. I have a bit of business to attend to while we are here.”
“All right.” She smiled tentatively and took Belial’s arm. “Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome, my dear. Now what part would you like to see first?”
“First I’d like to know how a giant skull got turned into Laish’s penthouse,” Gwendolyn said, with a look at me. “Laish tells me there’s quite a story behind it but that you’re the only one who can tell it just right.”
“Well I have been known to spin a yarn or two in my time.” Belial’s thin chest swelled with pride. “The history of Dis and of the Citadel especially is quite fascinating.”
“Tell me all about it.” She smiled at him and he smiled back.
I could tell my old mentor and Gwendolyn would be great friends—she already had him under her spell. I smothered a smile as I watched them walk away, arm in arm into the jaw of the Citadel. I would catch up to them later—for now let her enjoy a bit of her journey through the Infernal Realm. Gods knew she’d had enough trauma here to last her a lifetime. I wanted her to be able to relax for a time and recuperate. We had a difficult road ahead and she would need all the strength she could gather.
* * * * *
Gwendolyn
“So this whole city is built on the remains of a giant demon?”
“Not just built on the remains,” the old demon said to me. “Dis is actually built of the remains of Beelzebub.”
“I thought that was just another name for the Devil,” I said doubtfully.
“The Father of Lies has many designations but his true name is and always has been Lucifer,” he told me. “Beelzebub was simply one of his followers. His form of power was that of a giant—he went to war in that form quite often.”
“Like Laish’s dragon form,” I said.
“Oh, the Lord Laish has told you of his wyrm form?” Belial looked surprised.
“He didn’t just tell me—he morphed into it right in front of me. Nearly scared me to death,” I confessed.
“I see.” He nodded and I thought for a moment he looked troubled. “So back to the history of Dis: Beelzebub was killed in the second Celestial War about two millennia ago. He was in his giant form when he died and this is where his body fell…” Belial spread his wrinkled hands, indicating the city, which I could still see by looking through the gaps between the massive teeth in the jaw where we stood. It was cool in the shadow of the jaw. I slipped back into my white fur coat which I had taken with me when I dismounted from Kurex.
“So people decided to build a city on—or out of—his body?” I asked, pulling the fur collar close around my neck.
“Well, after a few centuries or so once the carcass had been picked clean by scavengers, yes. His bones make excellent building materials and the Tunnel of Sighs, which you passed through to get here, is actually Beelzebub’s voice box. Some say that is why the voices of the dead can speak there—the ancient demon’s voice magnifies their own until the living can actually hear them.”
“And what happened to Beelzebub himself?” I asked.
Belial frowned and shook his head.
“Well, he died, my dear. Or what passes for death among our kind. Essentially his corporeal frame ceased to exist and his disembodied spirit was cast forever into the Lake of Fire.” He sighed. “Such is our fate when we finally expire.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “But why didn’t Beelzebub just shed the giant form and use another form instead? Like Laish did when he left his dragon form behind after fighting the Skitterlings?”
We had been strolling through the dark, rounded space created by the lower jaw of the skull which reminded me a little of a screened in porch—or a Florida room as they call it where I come from. But now Belial stopped short and looked at me, his cloudy yellow eyes going wide.
“Did you say that Lord Laish abandoned his wyrm form? That he was forced to leave it behind after the battle?”
“Well…yes.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “He told me there were just too many Skitterlings. They were everywhere.” I couldn’t repress a shudder at the memory. “I was just glad he got out alive at all! I thought he was dead for a while—it was awful.”
“He was dead—or a good part of him at least.” Belial sounded grim. “That was one of his forms of power. I cannot count the victories he won in that form, charging in front of his regiments of demons as a great wyrm, spraying fire and spreading death and destruction in his wake.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said feeling awkward. “I feel like it’s all my fault. I never meant—”
“No, no, my dear.” Belial patted my hand comfortingly. “It’s quite all right. Lord Laish is one of the Great Demons—a Prince of Night and Shadow. Believe me, he has more than one form of power. His true form for instance, now that is something to behold. He has not…eh, shown you that one, has he?”
“No,” I said candidly. “I, uh, think he’s afraid of what I’ll think of him if I see it. Although I don’t see how anything can be more terrible than his dragon form.”
Belial looked slightly relieved.
“Ah, the Lord Laish’s true form is both terrible and beautiful—that is what makes it so difficult to see,” he murmured. “It is a perversion of what he once was, you know.”
“Which is what?” I asked, burning with curiosity. “What was he? How did he get here? And what does his true form actually look like?”
“I am afraid if Lord Laish has not seen fit to tell you, I cannot either,” the ancient demon said mysteriously. “All that I ca
n say is if you once see him as he truly is, you will not soon forget it.”
Thanks for nothing, I thought but my manners were too good to say it out loud. Instead I said, “Tell me more about Dis. And please show me the rest of the Citadel—I’ve never been inside a giant skull before.”
Belial was happy to do just that. We walked and talked as he showed me through the skull, which looked like a plush office building with a board room where the Council of Elder Demons met on the bottom, and a luxury penthouse on the top. There was a long spiral staircase that connected the two with steps and a banister all made of polished ivory which I now knew was bone.
“And here are Lord Laish’s apartments,” Belial said as we reached the top of the stairs and found a long hallway that branched off in either direction. To the right was a long stretch of highly polished hardwood floor with a single door at the very end. To the left was thick royal blue carpet that looked like you could sink into it over your ankles. It also ended in a door.
Belial led me to the left and opened the massive wooden door—at least not everything was made of bone. “This is his private library.” He made a sweeping motion with one wrinkled hand, bowing me into the room.
“Oh, a library?” I said eagerly. Then I stepped past him into the room and gasped.
I had estimated when we first rode up to the Citadel of Knowledge that the huge skull was about five stories high. Yet the floor below, with the boardroom set up, had seemed like a normal sized space. I had wondered, as we climbed the stairs, why the second story would need to take up so much height. Now I understood.
Bookshelves lined the walls of the entire room—bookshelves as tall as office buildings—and every one of them was absolutely full. I had to crane my neck as I looked up…and up…and up. The ceiling, four stories above me, was rounded, polished ivory—the top of the skull.
“This is amazing!” I exclaimed, walking over to a shelf and running my fingers along the leather bound spines. “Has Laish read all of these?” I wouldn’t have asked it if he’d been human with a human life span. A person could start when they first learned to read and continue without stopping until they died and still never even get through a quarter of the books in this room, I was sure. But I knew how long Laish had been around—he talked in terms of centuries and millennia—he would have time to get through these if he wanted to.
“These are just his favorites,” Belial said, smiling a little. “We have another facility built of Beelzebub’s ribcage at the other end of Dis which houses the rest of Lord Laish’s collection.”
“Wow…” I walked around, looking at some of the titles. The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, Out of the Silent Planet… “These are all by C.S. Lewis,” I said, turning to Belial.
He nodded. “One of Lord Laish’s favorite authors.”
“But, wasn’t he a Christian author?” I asked. “I mean isn’t The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe an allegory about Christ?”
“It is.” Belial nodded again.
I moved a little way down, looking at a different section.
“The Case for a Creator…The Case for Faith…” I looked at Belial. “These are really some of his favorites?”
“Lord Laish always says you must know your enemy’s mind in order to outwit them. To that end, he is very well read.”
“Oh,” I said. “So these are all just for research.”
“Possibly.” Belial made a back and forth motion with his hand. “Though to be honest, I believe Lord Laish reads them for pleasure as well.”
Hmm, so Laish liked to read—there was something I hadn’t known about him. I continued down the shelves. Angels and Demons…After the Fall…Fallen: When Pride Kills Reason… Suddenly Eryn fluttered up from my shoulder and settled on the spine of a book I hadn’t seen. It was so small and thin it was almost lost among the other thick volumes on the shelf. I bent down a little to get a better look at it. “Angels Unawares,” I murmured, watching as my little pet crawled up and down the spine of the book, fluttering her winds eagerly. “Are you excited because this reminds you of Heaven, little girl?”
She flapped her wings again and only returned to my shoulder when I pulled the book out and tucked it under my arm. Then I had a thought and turned to Belial.
“Um, is this okay? Do you think Laish would mind if I picked a few to borrow for a while?”
“If he has shown you his second most powerful form and given it up for your sake, I doubt he would object to you borrowing from his shelves,” Belial said dryly. “Besides, Lord Laish has always been in favor of learning. Though he draws his power from fire and lust, he has the mind of a knowledge demon, as I have often told him.”
I was still awed by the sheer volume of books in the room but something Belial said bothered me.
“Did you say he draws some of his power from lust?”
“Indeed he does.” Belial’s complexion darkened to a dusty purple and I realized he was blushing. “Ahem…lusty acts for want of better words, have always fed his power nearly as much as the fire does.”
I flashed back to the night before. How Laish had been at the end of his strength. He’d told me that it would take a long time for his powers to return. Yet after we’d…done what we had done together, he had seemed to feel better immediately. He’d even said to me that he felt “much stronger” afterwards.
Maybe he was using you, whispered a little voice at the back of my head. Using your lust to build up his power.
I tried to push the thought away but I couldn’t help finding it disturbing. When Laish had wanted to touch me last night, he’d said it was just because he cared for me. What if that wasn’t true at all? What if he just wanted to use me like a battery, to recharge?
Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself uneasily. Think of all the things he’s done for you, all the times he’s saved you and protected you. He gave up one of his most powerful forms for you! Surely he feels something—it can’t all be pretend, can it?
I was sure it wasn’t. I’d been feeling closer to Laish and he’d treated me so gently…touched me so tenderly the night before. Surely it wasn’t just to build up his own power—was it?
I told myself I was being silly, but in my heart, a tiny seed of doubt had been planted. A seed that took root and began to grow almost at once.
To distract myself from my dark thoughts, I moved to another section of books. There was a whole row of rare spell books and grimoirees I knew Grams would give her eyeteeth to get just a glimpse of, as well as several about the Goddess, the benevolent entity who embodies the spirit of the Earth herself. Witches are especially close to her though I had an uncomfortable feeling she would not approve of what I had been doing lately.
Trying not to think about that, I picked a few of the spell books at random and turned away to examine the rest of the room. There was a massive stone fireplace in one rounded corner with a comfortable looking red leather couch in front of it. The only thing that seemed out of place was an old fashioned oval mirror in a tarnished gold frame standing by one arm of the couch. A quick glance at it showed that it was cracked in several places—I wondered why Laish kept it since it was obviously broken. It gave me a slightly uneasy feeling but I didn’t dwell on it for long—I was too busy looking at the couch.
I could just imagine curling up on that warm red leather with one of the innumerable books and reading comfortably for hours, maybe with a nice cup of hot tea in one hand. It would be the perfect way to unwind after a stressful day and the Goddess knew, I’d had several of those in a row lately.
“Well, this is a cozy set up,” I remarked, walking over to the couch. “All you need is a roaring fire in the fireplace and a cup of hot cinnamon spice tea and you’re good for the evening.”
“Do you like to read then?” Belial sounded pleased. “It is also one of Lord Laish’s favorite ways to pass an evening. He spends most of his time here when he visits Dis.”
“I would too.” I smiled at him and sat on the couch, be
ing careful to pick the side farthest from the strange, cracked mirror. I liked the feeling of being surrounded by books—loved the warm, spicy scent of them that filled the air. That scent calmed me down and made me excited at the same time. It made me think of adventures in far off lands and the comfort and safety of sitting in my mother’s lap when I was little, being read to.
“This reminds me of a fantasy I had as a little girl,” I told Belial. “My Grams used to take us to the library once a week to get new books and I always wished I could get locked in and spend the night. Then I could read as much as I wanted.”
“Were you not allowed enough reading time as a child, then?” Belial asked, raising one gray eyebrow.
“I’m sure I had plenty—I just hated being called away from a good book to do my chores or work on my homework,” I said, smiling. “But my Grams was really strict about that—homework and chores always came first. Anything fun came after. She—”
The words died on my lips as I happened to catch a glimpse of the mirror across from me, at the other end of the couch. Its cracked surface was swirling with color, making a strange kaleidoscope pattern that drew my eyes and held them even when I tried to look away.
After a moment the swirling colors stopped and coalesced into a picture. It was Grams—she was busy locking up her magic lore shop for the day. I watched as she went through the nightly routine, dusting the shelves and wiping down her counter with its old fashioned cash register at one end. I’d tried and tried to get her to replace that thing but she stubbornly refused. It was cash or nothing for her—she didn’t trust credit cards and never had.
Watching her brought a lump to my throat. I’d never been away from her for so long except for that one disastrous summer she tried sending me to camp. I was miserable for the same reason I’d always been miserable in school—the other kids sensed that I was different and picked on me. Grams had ended up coming to get me halfway through the week and I remembered how glad I’d been to see her—how I flew into her arms and hugged her until she laughed and said I was making her old bones creak…