· · · · · · ·
Nina woke with her eyes on a bladed metal thing spinning above her. It hung from the ceiling and waved cool air at her. What kind of magic was that?
She lay on a table in some kind of office, with lots of bottles and herbs and weird tools in glass cabinets. On a stand near the door rested a number of very scrappy ravens. Really, the poor things looked so emaciated they might be dead. Wait ... why did their eyes glow?
"Hello."
Nina clutches the blankets closer to herself before she processed the new arrival was just a child.
The girl's expression perpetually drooped, her pale face framed with short cut black hair. She was about 10, maybe, yet wore the eye glass and robes of a doctor.
"What's your name? I'm Rita, by the way, and this is Rocky." She pointed at the figure on a nearby shelf, gathering little pots between its fingers. A hand. Just a hand, moving around like a living being. "I'm the doctor of the slums and ve's my assistant."
Well. This was going to be a very interesting letter to her mother.
Hi mom, a demon saved my life and I think you really weren't honest when you told me zombies didn't exist. Oh, but I guess it's true I don't have to be afraid of them. They're doctors.
Also, the stories about knights killing dragons were actually true. They honed in on me even before I transformed.
It would disappoint her mother so much to get a letter like that. Nina had sworn she would be safe, yet here she was, with trouble that had started without even turning into a dragon. She'd let her mother down.
Well, better not dwell too much on that.
"How did I get here?" Nina asked.
"Azazel dropped you off. Why'd the Orleans Knights attack you anyway?" Rita asked.
"I think they think I work for the rag demon. At least, that's what the blond guy accused me of before. I didn't really do anything, I was up at a tower looking for the rag demon and then they all just started firing at me. It was pretty rude. There was a girl with me too, I hope she got away. I get why everyone's very scared of demons and all, but there were people in the houses, and collapsing a tower was just overkill. I don't know what they were thinking."
Nina was just connecting the dots between the name Rita mentioned and the rag demon when Rita dove right into a sensitive topic.
"And then you shapeshifted. What are you, human mage or dragon in disguise?"
Oh dear. No avoiding this one. She might as well be honest.
"Uh, both? My mother is a human, but my father was a dragon." Nina said shifted her legs over the edge of the table. "I ... uh ... have a little trouble transforming cause of that. Real dragons are not supposed to pass out either, or lose our minds, or any of that."
"I'd like to know more, but right now I'm expecting other patients. If you can confirm nothing is out of the ordinary, do me a favor and move along."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm okay. Do you have a backroom where I can wait till my clothes reappear? We have these magic subspace things that stores them, but they don't work right with me."
Rita gave a quick glance at her headband, but said nothing. "Take the storage room. Don't touch anything."
"Thank you!" Clutching the sheets, Nina hopped into the room Rita pointed out. Behind her, Rita opened the door and released a few of her ravens.
Nina sat down on a little chair in a corner near a weird metal stand thing — who put a wrench like that — and waited. After a while, another door opened. In came a much more rotting zombie. Old even when alive, with chopped off horns. Now he carried two bags of wheat stuff with supernatural ease. It had to have all sorts of extra magic to adapt, like her tribe did.
She poked the zombie in the shoulder. He smelled rather rotten, and did in fact rot, yet didn't fall apart. He also ignored her entirely and turned away, fetching more bags. Nina peaked out the door he left through, seeing the zombie vanish into an alley, leaving a small hall with three doors and a stairway. One of those doors had to be a kitchen, cause a delicious smell came from behind it.
Spirits, was she hungry. She resisted the temptation to slip into the kitchen and gorge herself. She couldn't wait for her clothes to reappear so she could go home and eat.
That took longer than usual. Last night must've been taxing.
Once her clothes were finally back, she leaned out the door. Rita was just finished with a patient, a tired looking demon lady with a sobbing child in her arms. Rita send them away with a concoction and got some rupees and a grateful, hopeless smile. A sting went through Nina.
Rita waved her in once the room was empty and held her arm out for one of her crows. "This is Charro, she will lead your way."
"Hi, Charro!" The raven crowed evenly. "Rita, before I leave, can I ask you something?"
"If you hurry it up."
"That name you mentioned before, Azazel. Is he the rag demon?"
"He is," Rita said.
Nina leaned on a nearby closet. "I don't understand. The rag demon— I mean, Azazel. Bacchus kept saying he's a bad person and everyone says demons are not even real people. They're evil and would terrorize and slaughter humankind otherwise. They're being done a favor cause this way they can be part of civilization. So why'd he bother saving me? He doesn't even like me."
"Azazel is weird," Rita said. "As for the rest of them, I've had anything from shivering kids who only come for the candy to grumpy old guys who insist the cough means nothing. Some donate. Some try to swindle. Some bring in healthy girls and then run off insisting this is logical even as she might turn into a dragon and destroy my home. The only differences with humans I've seen are physiological. Anyway, you're in touch with Bacchus?"
"You know him?"
"You could say we're friends. Does he know you're a dragon?"
"No, nobody outside my village does. At least, until last night."
"Right. Tell Bacchus and Hamsa to get their act together. Being drunk off their asses is no excuse for letting little girls pick fights with Azazel."
Nina pouted. "I'm not a little girl. I'll be 19 soon. Besides, Azazel only hurts the bad people, right?"
Rita narrow her eyes slightly while opening the door. "It seems that way. Lately. Anyway, you're ready to leave."
Nina stepped into a world of dull yellow and dying scents. All around were sandstone houses with small windows, disorganized, some built onto others. She could see over the roofs to deeper streets, but was still on the lower side of the gap. Pillars lined the lower end of massive walls all around the town.
"Are we still in the city?" Nina asked.
"Of course." Rita pointed at the edge of the gap a little to the right. A hint of the red roof tops of the city were visible there. "These are the slums. You didn't notice the hole in the city?"
Nina's seen the hole a few times, but had assumed it was a Bahamut crater now used for dumping waste or something. It was so close to the river, if the road broke it might just flood. Who would want to live there?
Rita let Charro fly and said, "Anyway, Azazel wanted to talk to you. Can you come back later, about an hour before the arena fights are announced?"
"Okay," Nina said. "Thanks for ..."
Rita had already gone inside, leaving the door open for the next patient. That one just arrived followed one of her ravens.
Nina followed Charro close to the walls, and arrived at a spiral stairway carved into the rock. Charro left her here.
The small entrance was occupied by a tough looking group of teenage demons, almost like standing guard. They gave her suspicious looks. It was probably better to pass this up, they could cause a problems — two of them were on the pretty side.
A little further was an elevator, if it could be called that. A ramshackle platform with a weak fence around just descended, while another paltform went up in tandem. A huge pale demon spun a wheel to make it move She never saw much of the demons this large around, so she asked a nearby demon in a little box hut what he was.
"A berserker," she said, tight lipped. "Say, what is a human lady such as yourself doing down here?"
"Oh ..." Nina gritted her teeth and tried to think up a non dragon explanation. "Just visiting a friend."
"Really?"
"The doctor," Nina added quickly. "She maybe dead, but she's human, technically, you know?"
"Hmm. Right. So, you want up?"
Looking around, Nina noticed the crude fence before the elevator. The demon at the lever glared at her, but it was hard to find him intimidating when he was almost as meager as Rita's undead ravens.
There was a basket next to the demon in the boot. Some potatoes were in it. Throwing money in there didn't seem like a good idea.
"Yes, I'd like up." Turning dragon in a small stairway was a bad idea. "I don't have potatoes, but I do have coins." Nina opened her pouch and dug out some coins, holding them out. The elevator master didn't take them, just stared with suspicious eyes.
At that moment, the berserker stopped turning the wheel. The second platform had finished the way down. A group of very pretty demon ladies stepped out, and one of them approached with a bag that she emptied in the basket. Potatoes, a bit of bread and an onion.
"I never saw you here before," she said when she spotted Nina. "You here to visit family too?"
"Uh, no ... I'm new."
"Oh, they just brought you in. Have you someone to show you around already?"
"Nivielle, that's a human," the elevator master said.
"Ah." The entire group averted their eyes at once and hurried away.
Nina put her coins on the reception place, stepped on the platform and avoided looking at anyone, even as she felt the eyes of the demons on her. She felt like she'd done something wrong, but couldn't place what it was.
· · · · · · ·
The sound of the ocarina drifted all the way down the broken tower. A far cry from the refined dark throne in the castles he'd once lived, these ruins were degrading ... but good enough. Mugaro was the only one who saw him here and would never care for decrepit states.
Once inside the ruins, the music surrounded him He stretched his wings and flew to the source, high above.
Mugaro stopped playing when he arrived to smile at him. Azazel laid down a bundle next to him before dropping himself flat on the stone surface. He couldn't deny being tired and his leg still hurt, but it was the first time since ages he felt a little at ease. It wouldn't just be him anymore.
The music resumed and he lay listening for a while, sunlight on him and the city before them. In his earliest years, he couldn't stand to watch the city lest it was in flames. Now he didn't mind anymore. Sure, the place was pathetic and fragile, but as he knew now, much of the demons had been too. Once they overthrew Charioce, they would use this city up until they could return to Cocytus. They'd do better then.
Once Mugaro finished the song, he gingerly picked up the bundle and made a round gesture, indicating a solar dial.
"We're going to the slums about an hour before work."
After Mugaro gave a questioning look, he said, "To recruit her, of course. That girl ... if she attacked the knights, then she's not on board with Charioce's people," Azazel said. "If we could have her on our side ..."
Mugaro's smile grew a little wider. Azazel couldn't help but do the same, even as he knew the child didn't share or know half the things this imminent victory would mean.
· · · · · · ·
Rita knocked on the backdoor of the grand white mansion, an elegant place lined with slender trees. The scent of a herb garden surrounded it and neat curtains hung open to reveal many men in the traditional coat of doctors. As a zombie, Rita was an inherent disgrace to it, and she couldn't care less.
Today was yet another symposium for the doctor's guild of Anatae. There were a lot of those since the fall of Cocytus. Most of the place was stern old men, Rita as a young girl stood out like a sour and a sore thumb. The guild understood she was she a walking corpse, of course. People on the street often just assumed she was tired or ill, the rest of the trick done by herd behavior. But a room full of folks staring at corpses regularly, all inclined to say yes, that was a corpse? Rita hadn't even tried hiding it, no point. They just tacitly ignored it. That's what one did when his king introduced a foreign species with all sorts of diseases that humans had no resistance to and a grudge to use all kinds of curses once out of their slave collars. Little details like their only arcane doctor being female and not breathing didn't matter when it came to preventing plagues. She'd never be seen at public events, but the guild depended on her.
Rita depended on them too. She could brew up all kinds of medicine, but mundane things like sterile bandages, sterile jars and any kind of equipment, acid, or imported herbs were so much easier to get here than in the slums.
Today's meeting was about immunity against diseases, but the side talk was from the doctors who had been called to work late this night. Some for citizens, others in service of the kingdom. The death toll from the rampaging knights and the emergence of the dragon was in the double digits. Word went the rag demon had summoned the latter, so the doctors were content to cater to popular word and talk of it like a dragon incident. But in whispers behind everyone's back, they said the forbidden. The Orleans Knights had provoked this. The Orleans Knights had set up the mecha in the city. The Orleans Knights were part of a pattern : despite the presence of demons, most victims of violence had fallen at human hands. Law enforcers, even.
For a while after realizing Azazel was in the city, Rita wondered whether he still kept true to his old ways. He had once liked to drop magical artifacts to sow chaos, with a sprinkle of bloodshed to move things along. Dark artifacts were scarce nowadays, though, and he had other concerns now.
Azazel wasn't the only one who had changed. As much fingerprints now belonged to Kaisar. He had led the Orleans Knights for nearly seven years, and despite the chivalry he preached, they acted like this.
She expected him today.
As captain, Kaisar couldn't go to the slums just for fun. It wouldn't do for him to be seen there, he might look like he fraternized with the evil wiles of demons — quite illegal in this kingdom. Likewise, it would be strange for him to be seen in town with an unaging little girl. Rita and him exchanged letters to stay in touch, but sometimes they met here. He knew by now to not disturb her during discussions, so he showed up right on cue during lunch break. Anyone looked from the outside would simply consider the captain to retrieve medicine for his men or deliver pay for the services to the kingdom; nobody really thought mister goody two shoes on his shiny white unicorn came for for his own hangovers. Let alone to meet a zombie.
There was a small bench in the herb garden, where she sat with a book and waited.
Kaisar appeared right on time, striding over the pebble path. He had a pouch with him in which coins clinked.
"Rita, good to see you," he said and meant it, but there lay a frown on his face.
"Good to see you too." She let an uncomfortable silence hang as Kaisar sat next to her. He set the bag between them.
Rita let a painful minute pass, where she pretended to read and the open window above let Kaisar hear what two doctors spoke of last night's victims.
Rita honestly didn't care whom he got killed, but she couldn't stand his hypocrisy. Whenever he started about morals and the greater order of the kingdom, Rita started about people she had killed in the last two centuries. She had begun called Nebelville her kind of order and how she'd tried adding people to it before. She usually hadn't bothered with the illusion spell as much as with Kaisar, but she made sure to highlight he wasn't the only one she'd wanted to keep. People had died for her own little order too, right? Over time, Kaisar had stopped talking about justice to her. There was plenty of others thing he spoke of, but today he'd correctly guessed those weren't at order.
When Rita finally closer her book, he seemed to lose some tension. She didn't let him ease for long. "Care to explain what happened last night?"
Out came the rushing steam. "Look, Rita, what happened last night went out of hand. The rag demon knocked me out and my lieutenant got carried away. If everyone just—if he just stopped, we'd stop."
"Really, this again? Your little rampage left a lot of damage."
"Well, the rag demon was the one who unleashed that dragon! It's not like we're starting this."
"Really?" Rita gave him her deadest stare. Maybe it was time for a little test. "Azazel didn't summon the dragon. There were others there who got caught up and defended themselves."
So what would be bite into?
Realization dawned on his face, then a flash of hurt as he understood that for possibly years she had kept the identity of his target a secret, then the doubt and a glimmer of pain. Kaisar had never been one to truly think through things, but after the truth about Favaro had come out, he made a point of trying to question himself before acting on his impulses. A little too much lately, for Rita's preference.
"So it was him. You're in touch with him, aren't you? Rita, why didn't you tell me?"
"Patient doctor confidentiality plus first do no harm. Which is something your knights could care to learn," she said, tapping the bag of coins. "The girl your knights nearly killed last night was a wannabe bounty hunter chasing Azazel. Just a child. Some prick set her up with a fake bracelet, now she came staggering into my place, too terrified to go to a normal doctor cause she thinks she got outlawed."
He gaped in horror, as befit to mister goody two shoes. Rita decided to lay it on thicker. "You know what that means, right? Azazel saved her. Why is the demon who once invaded Anatae and mowed down its knights now protecting its citizens from its knights?"
Kaisar pressed his lips tightly together. Not stubborness, she knew that by now. Doubt. Too bad he didn't do anything with it.
"Why are you telling me about Azazel now?"
"To see what you do with that knowledge. I'm getting pretty worried for my role in this empire that so hates the darkness. If you backstab me, I want to read the book before the spell leads the beasts to my door."
"Rita, I won't betray you."
"Maybe for now, but you once were someone who was quite vocally against abduction of innocent women. Yet last night, I got a scared human girl and the demon women you abducted over my floor. You've been compromising more and more over the years. When will you decide hat Charioce's right about his laws against humans using the dark arts? Can't be darker than a living corpse sustained by the powers of hell."
Kaisar took a knee at her side. "Rita, you are my friend. No matter what happens, I will not let you be killed, or even jailed or otherwise punished."
He looked so disgustingly sincere and noble, Rita kicked his boot.
"Stop giving me those eyes, you're making me nauseous."
He gave a fond smile at that and stood straight. "Anyway, if should see that bounty hunter girl again, please offer her my apologies."
"Are you kidding me? No. Do it yourself," Rita said. She flipped her book open.
Kaisar didn't take the hint to leave.
"Anything else?"
"Can you tell me where to meet Azazel?"
"He doesn't come around to my place at regular intervals," she said.
"Please, Rita. I have to talk to him. We had five wyverns in the sky, if he took such a risk to protect that girl, then maybe he's different now. Maybe I can reason with him."
Ha. He really didn't see how that would come across after last night, did he? He ought to be talking to those riding those wyverns.
Still, why not humor his imminent failure? See where that got Azazel and Kaisar.
"The mansion of the Resonvuá nobles," she said. "We got some records from the guards, they've been importing an unusual amount of slaves, despite having visible few on their lands. Be there two days from now, during the night. He won't be punctual."
Azazel was a complete klutz when it came to things like nuance, finesse and intel. He got his information on where slaves were mistreated from those who escaped, mostly. Mugaro also had a knack for sniffing out where suffering went on. Then, Rita occassionally sent a zombie bird or rat around. She fed her information to Azazel in doses, so he wasn't all over the place every single night to the point of exhaustion. He wouldn't like that he might save more, but she didn't care. Her interests were strictly based on how close someone was to her.
Kaisar and Azazel would both disagree, nowadays, so why bother talking to either about that? People only ever followed their own sense of justice. Rita had been too young to ever let her own sense grow. It had rotted away along with her village. The best she could do the rest of the filth around her didn't rot away entirely either.
Sometimes the filth needed to sort their problems out for that to happen.
· · · · · · ·
Nina had not been late to work before, so her story about getting knocked out by debris during an every walk was easily taken. She spent the remaining hours working, during which it became clear that last night's events didn't match what people were told by the Orleans Knights. The Rag Demon was the pure villain, blamed for every single death last night. Nina's throat tightened up more and more. Any prior day she would've joined the talks about how wicked he was and promise to take him down. It felt wrong now.
More so as she saw the enslaved demons working so close by. Demons weren't allowed to do anything but hard labor, so they didn't appear in shops or on the streets. Demons were too aggressive for that, which some business owners complained about cause they were cheaper. Laborers were glad for it, cause they couldn't be exchanged for cheaper labor.
How many of these demons were actually kind people? Did it even matter?
All this was strange to Nina; none of this economic stuff was a thing in her poor village. She ought to have asked the men who had and returned, but there hadn't been any when she headed out, and she didn't want to wait much longer. Favaro had said there weren't much bounties anymore, she didn't want to arrive only for there to be none left. Now she didn't want to anymore.
All things considered, she was pretty sure she wanted to talk to Azazel as much as vice versa.
After work was done, she docked her pay and went right for the slums, gorging down some food she bought on the way. She ran down the stairs this time for speed, which didn't serve her in the end : she got completely lost on the way to Rita's place.
Oh well. She'd just run all over till she found it.
That street? Nope.
This street? Nah, it had a plaza at the end.
This one maybe? Almost, but not quite.
"Hey, you!"
She ignored it the first time, assuming it was meant for someone else.
"Dammit, stop already!"
Huh, that was the same voice even though she was five streets further now.
"Will you quit running around?"
She braced to a halt, just to see a man racing at her who now had to veer out of the way. He did that by jumping over her.
"Dammit!" He turned and stood straight, a fierce scowl on his face. "I can't take out my wings in the bright open, you fool! Do you think this funny?"
Wait. Wasn't that ... ? White skin, white hair, asymmetric black horns, same smooth features, very hot, going to turn into a dragon now—
Nina whirled around, facing the lovely and amazingly detailed, thorougly boring sandstone wall. Spirits, look at that sand, being stuck all together in a sandy way.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
He grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her back around. Nina averted her eyes from his dangerously pretty face, landing on a girl behind him.
A child only a little taller than Rita, also with black hair, but a world of difference. Waving hair that ended in curls, fancy coat and a sweet smile. What a weird companion to the sneering demon who was entirely too close.
"Are you deaf or what?"
"Yes. I mean no," she said, not making eye contact. "Sure. Right. Rita said you wanted to talk to me?"
"Join me."
For a mad moment her mind suggested he wanted her to join him on in a very specific way — by the spirits, why did he have to wear a tight shirt like that? She couldn't even pretend to look in his general eye direction.
"Uh ... " And there the rising blush was, with the threat of dragon incoming. You know those button's on the girl's coat were really nice. The rest didn't really look right on her, though. "Join you for what?"
"We need your power to overthrow Charioce."
Oooooh. That was it. Okay. He wasn't leaning in so close for other reasons. He was just very passionate against the king.
"What do you mean? What for?"
"Tch. Fine. Come along and I'll show you."
He walked away. The girl smiled at Nina and tugged at her arm, which was a lot more welcome as an invitation.
"Hi, I'm Nina. Who are you?" she asked.
The girl gave an apologetic smile and just moved away.
Azazel led her down to the very bottom of the slums. The sun barely reached here and it was colder than above. After passing a bridge, he slowed down.
The sides of the streets were lined with emaciated demons in rags. A metal barrel with fire stood on the right, poorly constructed tents to the left. The demons watched them with hollow eyes, curious about her, while others stared at Azazel in particular. She heard his name said in reverence once, but another spat his name under his breath and looked away.
Nina walked closer to him, talking in a low voice. "So, you've been killing bad people for a while now. Are these are all people whom you saved?"
"Not all of them, and this isn't nearly enough," he said. "It won't be enough until humankind falls."
"Do you hate humans?" she asked, not sure whether she wanted to ask all humans.
"Haha, yes, I hate them a lot," he said. "It should be clear why, and it's all that man's work."
"Charioce XVII, right?" Nina said. "The people ... the ones up in the city say he brought humankind welfare and prosperity."
"He brought them the power to build their prosperity on our backs," Azazel spat. "Five years ago, Charioce destroyed the capital of hell, Cocytus. He abducted its citizens and enslaved them on earth. I cannot bear all this prosperity built with the sacrifice of the demon clan."
They'd reached the end of the street and he faced her, looked determined, scornful, and terribly hot. She raised her hands, squeezing her eyes shut. Tiny street, bad place to transform.
He just kept watching her with an odd look. Oh no, he thought she was weird, didn't he? He did.
Her eyes fell on the girl with him, who had moved ahead. She approached a tent below which was a large steel pot. Now she had a closer look, Nina recognized the zombie from Rita's place, who stood next to it stoking the fire.
Rita stepped out from behind him and the pot, eyes on the girl. She paused when she saw Nina, then just said, "Hey. Wanna help passing out food?"
The girl opened a package and took out small beige dough like things. She waved at Nina to join her as she carefully laid them in the boiling water.
"What's this?" Nina asked.
"Food gathering, which I plan to use for getting some more people immunized against human diseases," Rita said.
Demons from all around gathered near the pot. Rita explained that in exchange for food, they should get a shot. It drew a lot of displeased murmurs, but nobody made a fuss about it. They lined up while Rita prepared her needles.
Azazel didn't join them. He seemed miffed at Rita for interrupting, but he could wait. He didn't even ask her name, so she didn't feel bad about leaving him hanging.
In the boiling pot, the tiny dough balls glowed in an odd yellow hue as they swelled up to a bread smelling of herbs. Using a scoop, the girl took the first one out and replaced it with another. Nina wrapped it in a little paper towel and handed it to the first demon to pass after getting a shot. "Here you go!"
As the line passed, Nina began to see the differences within them when before, she'd have only described them as having horns and odd skin colors. Long faces, rounded faces, small noses, thick ears, receding hairlines, sagging, bright or sunken eyes. Some missed teeth and other kept their lips pressed in mistrust at Nina. Some had straight hair, curly hair, some rounded backs, slender arms or bent knees. Their expression was often tired and hungry, all faces soon disappearing in the tasty bread. As time went on, they began to respond to her cheer with thanks more often, the unease at her presence ebbing away. They could smile just as beautifully as humans and dragonfolk could. The horns and skin colors now seemed such a silly thin to have given priority to.
There were still people left by the time the package ran out. Having to turn them away tore down Nina's cheer along with theirs. Her village had been poor, but it hadn't been this bad. She apologized once, twice, then slipped away. She did want to do something for them, but just joining Azazel? Just join a revolution? She wasn't sure she was ready — no, she knew she wasn't ready. She couldn't even control her dragon form.
Azazel leaned on a corner, in the shadows. Nina approach from the side, eyes fixed elsewhere, and asked, "Your friend doesn't talk to me. Did I do something wrong?"
"When I found Mugaro, they had scorched shut a collar around his neck. He wasn't one of those demons who regenerate quickly, so he lost his vocal chords. That's not uncommon for slave merchants to botch."
Huh, a boy? That didn't feel right.
"When we restore Cocytus, none of this will matter anymore. We'll have our old magic back and the sages will return his voice. Do you get it now, why I need your power? So we can undo all of this!"
He was almost trembling in rage. Nina took a step aside. "I agree this here is really bad, but—"
"But what? How many slaver houses have you followed me to? Don't you know what's going on inside? They tear off the wings by hanging them on hooks and pulling, then pulling them down by their feet. They kill all but the strongest this way," he said. "They sell for the best price and then they bring in more."
"Huh?"
"They are wiping us out and using the scraps to build their kingdom! Our home, our culture, everything they have destroyed to build their own atop. But not for much longer. I will restore the demon tribe to its rightful place, and for that I need to lay waste to the foundations of our enemy." He grabbed her by the shoulder with his blackened hand. "And you have that power!"
"No I dont!" she squeaked, looking away. Power meant control.
"Liar! I saw you tear down the knights of Charioce!" He started shaking her with both hands.
Nina squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop it, I can't just turn into a dragon! Let me go!"
"Shut! You're clearly a demon, so help us with your power!"
"No! I don't even know how—"
He leaned in now and snapped, "You don't understand?"
Those eyes would be very nice if he wasn't so hateful. She was sure that if he wasn't being such a colossal jerk, she'd have transformed already. "No, I don't! What am I supposed to do as a dragon that you can't? I can't even fly!"
"Don't bullshit me! Just do as I sa—"
A hand launched at him from the left and Azazel sailed away. When he landed he rolled over his head several times, before planting face first into the sand. His legs fell down with a profound plop.
A floating undead arm shot back to its owner.
"Rita!" Nina quickly rushed behind the doctor.
"You're supposed to be the rag demon, not the perv demon," Rita said.
"Stupid zombie girl," Azazel muttered from below the sand.
"Get to work already," Rita said. "If you're acting like this, I don't need you here."
Azazel got up and wiped the sand from his mouth. "I'm not giving up."
Still, he did as Rita said and marched off. Mugaro threw Nina a smile before following him.
Only now Nina relaxed.
What a jerk. He might be eye candy, but the attitude really put a damper on it.
"You okay?" Rita asked.
"Yeah, I'm a little shaken, literary, but ... " Not a dragon. For those few moments from behind Rita, she'd been able to look at him without the pulse of transformation.
Wow. That really sucked. The only way she could be around pretty guys was if they were such colossal jerks it overrode her attraction? So much for ever getting married.
Rita whistled for one of her ravens to lead Nina back out.
When Nina arrived at the final stairway up, the large demon at the elevator barked out. "Hey, you, get over here."
Before she got a question out, the woman from from the box stepped out and pushed the coins from before in her hands. "Take these back."
"Why? What's wrong with them?"
"I can't exchange gold coins for food, they'll think I stole it! Demons are only allowed copper coins."
"Oh ... I'm sorry. Not silver either?" The elevator master shook her head. "I don't have others types. What can I give you instead?"
"Humans ride for free," she said, and it didn't sound like a favor. It sounded like she wanted her to take the stairs and leave.
"I'm not ... " But she was close enough, right? Even if she hadn't been half human, she could walk around and be accepted. Be paid and buy whatever food she wanted. "I'll bring you some food next time to pay for my former, okay? What would you like?"
The demon stared baffled at her, opening her mouth once before looking back at the other.
"Could be a trick," he said.
She seemed to consider that, but finally said. "I uh ... we always wanted to try those sweet smelling spiral things from the ... what's it called, bakers?"
"A bag of cinnamon rolls for you and your friend coming next time I drop by!"
She took the stairs.
· · · · · · ·
El bent over the book at the heavy table, straining his eyes in the half dark to read the orders. He wasn't really good at reading, having had only about four years practice with sand and sticks, but it was better than Azazel. He flat out refused to even learn to read human language.
Words were better to focus on than the rest of this room anyway. It was a dank place filled with the scent of blood and fire, countless jars with oils and vinegar, and too much price tags. Outside were the hollers and cheers of the crowds, drowning out the death fights that would soon fill the funerary chambers with bodies. There were no doctors here, nobody cared for a defeated demon to survive. Everyone only had one chance.
Azazel finally came in with the cart, four bodies on it. Two of them still lived. El ached to release them of their misery, but knew he wasn't allowed yet. The notebook's had extra instructions today.
The demon funerary business was a messy deal. Sometimes rich people wanted trophies of a long running favorite who had finally been defeated, other times a seller of bogus medicine wanted material. The manager of the arena was happy to oblige. Today the order was for a liver, a skull and all femurs they could get their hands on. The fangs were to be removed from the other skulls, and the eyes dropped in jars.
El had a crudely drawn chart to point what Azazel was to harvest. He held it up, but his eyes were fixed on the suffering demons.
"All femurs. Damn that filth," Azazel spat. "Mugaro, get in position."
They had a system for orders like this. Since El's power evaporated the body and dulled pain in the final moment, Azazel could amputate limbs without too much suffering, which detached it from the field.
El kept his hood low and bent forward.
His kiss brought the death of gods, something he had discovered long ago in the forests when consoling a dying deer. It was not the power he wished to have, but it was what he had. Given a choice, any demon felled in the arena would be released of their misery this way.
A clang sounded in the hallway. El tensed up, hoping none of the guards came in.
"It's okay," Azazel said, snapping his fingers to set the oven alight. Then he his back towards El, concealing the work as he defleshed the legs.
El sat on the cart with the other survivor and gently strokes his head, offering what little comfort he could. He wanted his voice back, so he could promise it would end soon and that one day their people would be freed. Oh, if only he could talk to Azazel and they could make a plan ... maybe they could take on Charioce even here. Maybe. It was only wishful thinking. El knew his limits, and Azazel's.
Maybe Nina could help, though. Maybe he would tell her about his full power. She had a kind heart, he was never wrong about that.
"Ready?" Two of Azazel's arcane serpents manifested. El changed position to end things, then turned away as the sound of scraping flesh renewed.
He went back to the notebook and recorded, focusing on the strokes of the brush and endlessly wishing for things to change. Azazel occasionally cursed under his breath. This time though, it wasn't just about Charioce. Nina had vexed him with her apparent refusal.
El didn't take it as hard. He understood all too well the dangers of revealing unusual powers to the human kingdom, especially untested ones. His own had been hidden carefully ever since he'd lost his mother, even the kiss of death. While most humans and demons had no idea what a dying god looked like, Charioce and his soldiers probably did. They had hunted gods after all. It would be dangerous to see El do this. For all the guards knew, they burned the corpses with dark fire here.
Granted, it would be a huge stretch for anyone to find out. Azazel sure hadn't figured it out, and would never get the idea that Nina might have similar fears.
Azazel was dear to El, but he had to admit, also just a little bit on the stupid side. He'd been one of the gods and yet it never really clicked concerning El's kiss of death, no matter how much golden shine he saw. He thought El just had a special talent. He also looked at a weredragon and assumed there must be demon blood, as opposed to the obvious answer of weredragon. He might just do something stupid if he knew of El's powers, but if El was honest, the real reason he hadn't told him was that he couldn't control it enough. Something was missing.
· · · · · · ·
Charioce watched the captain of the Onyx Knights move out, but didn't get up as soon as he was out. For the first time in years, he was not as in control as he had to be.
The appearance of the dragon changed everything.
Beforehand, Charioce had been content to let Kaisar chase the rag demon without catching him. A little fear in the hearts of the population was good for maintaining why his reign was needed. He was mortal, despite everything. A poisoned dish, a collapsing economy, a rebellion where humans and demons joined ... there were enough factors to humankind that he had to be cautious. Now caution required something else.
He always suspected Kaisar would fail to capture the rag demon. That wasn't the point. Now he wanted to provoke something, because it stood out more than a little over the years that the rag demon spared Kaisar. So hence forth, his truly loyal Onyx Knights would trail Kaisar.
His thoughts shifted back to Jeanne and how much easier things would be with her at his side. She was the glimmer of one thing he could not truly control, a power he himself could never wield or control by sheer force. Faith, that which she represented. If she could sway the faith of the people to him, he might have acted sooner against the rag demon, and the rag demon would have summoned that thing earlier. Now, so close to the walls breaking, he could not afford problems like this.
· · · · · · ·
Belphegor hadn't had much choices in her life. Humankind gave her even less options than hell had, and now those options were in the trash.
Literary. Half of it broken. With dog hairs on it.
The renowned Cerberus and her dubious power abalance with the pimp had seemed an assurance at first she'd be in a decent place, but that was shot to heaven now.
She searched everything she could out of the trash. Whole, separate, broken to pieces. Didn't matter. There'd be way to get it all back together. She'd have to make several trips, still, if she didn't want to break anything further by throwing it all in a single sack. Super strength didn't do much for glass.
Mimi peaked out of the door. "Oh, ruff, we thought you weren't coming back!"
"I'm just here for my things," she sneered. "Thanks so much for not making me walk up there."
This was embarrassing, but Belphegor knew plenty of that from hell too, and she was pissed enough to stop caring for her pride.
· · · · · · ·
Rita's sources were on point, as always. Azazel raced for the mansion, ghosted through the walls and traced the scent of demon blood.
There were no servants anywhere, they'd been sent clear for the human's playtime.
Drunk laughter echoed through the upper level. He ghosted into the room without being noticed. Three men stood with their backs to him, talking of the quality of the wine of all things. Another man wandered into an adjacent, where a circle of four chairs stood. Within this circle were four demon women on their knees, covered in fresh cuts and with ball chains on their legs. The scene was sickeningly familiar. Some humans considered themselves above carnal desires and had convoluted explanations for how their slave driven circle jerk was more sophisticated. Some likes to combine it with bloodshed. Either way, torture. Tonight, he would draw out the deaths.
One of the women noticed him. He laid a finger over his mouth. Quiet now. It'd be over soon, but he wanted to be in control of how exactly they went down.
He ghosted right behind the middle man and pulled him back, spine right into his knife. The other two turned with screams. Azazel tipped his prey's mask off, and let them see the death come to his eyes.
The fourth man staggered out of the other room and launched for the door, only to be caught by Azazel and dragged back. Running his blade horizontal over this one's stomach, gutting him.
Two left. The next one he stabbed over and over, not yet where it would kill him. Low in the lungs, next in the liver, to the side of the intestines. The last one had to watch and know what came.
When he finally dropped the corpse, he let the last one beg for his life before shifting behind him. Just as he was about to drive his blade into his shoulder, the servant door burst open.
"Stop!"
What? Kaisar?
How on earth had he gotten here in time? ... didn't matter.
While Kaisar caught his breath, Azazel's prey begged for his worthless life. Azazel let him have it for now, more interested in Kaisar now.
Kaisar didn't draw his sword, instead said, "I know you. I'm not here to fight, but to stop you. Summoning that dragon snapped Charioce's patience, he took me off the charge of finding you and passed it to the Onyx Knights. Hurry up and get out of the city!"
"You're worried for my life?" Azazel asked, slow and a little amused. "What a splendid person you've become."
Kaisar stood straight and gave a sideway glance at the corpses, before saying, "Will the humans you just killed help what you demons want?"
Azazel slowly drove the knife into his prey's neck, letting them cringe and gurgle before dropping him. All along, he kept his eye fixed on Kaisar.
"Y-you ... damn you!" Oh, this is who Kaisar felt for? Not so splendid.
"Seeing this situation, you dare tell me to leave?"
Only now did Kaisar have a look around. Jars with fetuses ripped from wombs, books made from demon skin, displays of petrified, skinned corpses. On the table in the room lay blood covered torture tools, along with the skinned remnants of their latest victim.
"This ... " Kaisar approached, but stopped when he heard the sounds from the other room. The women there looked up at him, fear in their eyes. It dawned on him what they were, because now Kaisar froze in horror.
"Between the filth I just gutted and these harmless demons, who deserved to be killed?"
Kaisar struggled to get his bearing back, and didn't put it to good use. "You could have just set the demons free. I know how powerful you are, it would be no problem for you."
"And then these humans would have bought new demons to abuse, just as they bought new ones when those died." He tapped a glass on the shelf, in which eyeballs drifted. "Your knightly chivalry does not count the lives of demons?"
Kaisar said nothing, and Azazel lost his patience. He grabbed Kaisar by the collar and floated off the ground, just enough to hurt him if he struggled loose. He set the blade at Kaisar's throat.
"Let Charioce be impatient. I will kill as many as I have to, until your people have only regret for what you've done to mine."
"You're making a mistake. Hate always leads to more hate. This isn't the right way to help you people!" Kaisar said.
So disgusting and pathetic.
"Hmm. Tell me, where were you during the invasion of Cocytus?" Azazel said.
"Here. The Orleans Knights defend Anat—"
"And where are you every time a demon is ripped from the refugee villages?"
"Here ... we—"
"Where are you when my people are dissected, tortured, raped and killed in your city?"
There was nothing right Kaisar could say to that and was at least wise enough to know it. Azazel threw him to the ground, at the edge of the other room.
Passing him, grabbed the first chain and crunched it in his claw, then kicked the ball at Kaisar. "Why don't you tell them they're wrong to want their tormentors to die?"
Kaisar still said nothing. Azazel grabbed Kaisar by the neck, digging his fingers in to make him look up, but stay on his knees. "Tell them how they should die here because you don't want more hatred!"
"Please, stop this," one of the women said. "Just let us go."
Azazel stood straight and without another word, removed the rest of the chains.
"Grab some shifts from their closets," Azazel said. "Make sure to cover your collars."
Kaisar kept his eyes down all along. Azazel kicked him to get his attention. "Be a knight for once and lead them to the slums. I'll pass your regards to your onyx friends."
He ghosted out of the room, no longer caring for what that lowlife might say.
· · · · · · ·
El waited on one of the towers central the city, the sense he had no name for keeping track of Azazel's whereabouts. He knew where he'd gone, had an idea when he'd be back, and what to expect. Tonight, for the first time in two years, he sensed other movement too near. Familiar, and dangerous.
The first time he'd encountered them, he hadn't know just how dangerous they were. They presence was almost always within Anatae, centered around the heart in the palace. Now it prickled up his spine to realize they headed towards Azazel.
The shiver wouldn't leave his limbs, but he made himself move. For two years he had not needed to go all out with his power, had remained safe, but always had known it wouldn't last. Now might be the time for risks, and he would step up. Whether it'd be enough, whether he'd even stay awake long enough to make a difference, those concerns he cast aside.
El dropped down the tower and floated to the bottom. Using his legs and lack of weight, he leaped through the streets. Flying didn't really work without wings and going full out with telekinesis made him stand out too much, but he had to be fast. They were closing in.
He heard and sensed the battle before he arrived; the familiar sharp magic of Azazel versus the droning, oppressive radiance of their enemy. The countless streets and buildings didn't pass fast enough. He took a risk and raised his power, throwing himself to the roofs to continue jumping from there.
Just as El arrived at the end of the street, Azazel drove a blade into the eyes of one of the black knights, before ghosting through the remainder of the gather. In the dark they were little more than green lights and a blur of purple below. Azazel took a jump to strike at the captain, only to be caught in a spiked green sphere of magic. His screams echoed through the buildings as they forced him through his knees. He could only curse them out before losing consciousness.
The captain approach his prone form, blade drawn.
All hesitation died, and fear was exiled to the back of his mind. His mother was gone, he didn't even know whether she had survived them. They wouldn't take Azazel too.
El took a leap and let all of his power go. His left eye coursed as if coming alive and golden radiance surrounded him. He could feel everything through it, the stones, the forbidden green power, and Azazel. Those infernal green stone he forced to extinguish, while finding full power allowed him to cancel out weight for Azazel too.
While the knights collapsed on the the weight of the unnatural armors, El lifted Azazel as careful as he could. Azazel didn't wake, but El stayed awake, unlike before. Good. He could take him away yet.
Floating, he crossed several streets before the strain of his power began to creep in. His grip on the armors remained yet, but wouldn't help if he passed out too nearby. He needed help.
Nearby, a demon moved through the streets. Maybe ...
Just a little further. El descended on a roof and watched her slip through the streets under the weight of a stuffed backback. She was strong enough, but more importantly, kind. He was never wrong about this.
He took Azazel to an alley where she would pass and laid him there, then shut down all his power. Just as she passed by, he stepped from the alley and waved at her to come.
Curious and suspicious, she took a few steps in his direction.
El pointed her at the slumped figure.
"The rag demon?" She seemed stunned, but that quickly was replaced with concern. She shot to his side. "What happened?"
El gestured at his throat with an apologetic smile.
"Right. Can you do something for me?" She took the backback off and removed a few heavier things that she hid behind a trash can. "Please take this to the slums. I have to get him out of here as soon as possible. You're not wanted, right? He is."
She sounded like she felt she had to explain why she left him, so he gave her an assuring smile and took the backpack and nodded. He'd be happy to do something for her if she helped Azazel.
She lifted Azazel in her arms, and took a look at El. "I'll take him to the doctor that lives in the slums, do you know where that is?"
El nodded. She took off, fast enough to matter.
At a much slower pace, El started the journey after them, and the fight against blacking out. He'd lasted much longer then before. Maybe one day he'd be strong enough to take them all down.
For now, Azazel would be safe. He just had to make it to Rita's place to be reunited. He was still here, he hadn't failed him, like he had his mother.
· · · · · · ·
