TALES OF THE DEMON by Dien Alcyone
Hullo! This is my DC Comics fanfic, written for DC Anthology, which can be found at: http://danthology.cjb.net/ Due to hints from friends and readers, I am diversifying in the places where it's featured at... hence, this! I hope you enjoy.
Summary: Etrigan/Jason Blood fanfiction, in an 'issue' format.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The Demon and certain characters in these pages are owned by DC Comics. I'm just playing.
TALES OF THE DEMON #6 ~ "A Night to Remember, Part Three: Lies and A Light Show"
by Dien
Story notes:
Blood blinked as the strong liquor took effect, shook his head slightly to clear the buzzing, and stared at the irate angel. "You want me to do what?"
Zauriel lost his temper. The day--the spiritual torment of dealing with this man/demon several hours ago--the disgust and pity that had overwhelmed him as he observed Gotham--the shadow attack and the theft of the Fatestone--all of these had built and built and he felt entitled to a little righteous wrath.
He stepped closer, his wings rustling. One arm shot out and grabbed Jason's shirt collar. Zauriel pulled the demonologist close and said in his best Batman imitation, "Don't. Play. Dumb. You know what I'm talking about."
"All right. I've had just about enough of this," Blood snapped, using the hand not holding his glass to sketch an arcane symbol in the air. Glaring at the angel, he said, "In any time or place, it's unwise to threaten me, angel. You, however, may have picked the worst possible time, and I know for a fact you've picked the worst place.
"Kaz heilos atrasan," Blood growled at the same time he spread his fingers wide to finish the casting. The apartment turned into a fair impression of a thunderstorm, and Harry, who had been watching the whole scene with great interest, tried with moderate success to duck behind the couch and get the hell out of the way.
Blood had lived nearly fifteen centuries--and spent most of them studying magic and demons in attempts to free himself from Etrigan. One of the more useful types of sorcery he had picked up over the years was wards. These protective magicks could be used to guard against trespassers, or activated with a word, phrase, or gesture. Every single building or property he owned had at least two wards set on them.
This apartment had thirty-six.
At his words, bolts of magical lightning sprang from the walls, floor, ceiling and thin air to leap with single-minded intensity towards Zauriel. They hit with sizzling intensity. Crying out in pain, he quickly released the demonologist. As the supernatural bolts rebounded concussively through his body, the angel fell to his knees, his face contorted with agony.
Jason straightened his collar and set down his now-empty glass, sticking his hands in his pockets and coolly observing the figure before him. The lightning continued to writhe through the angel's form, but Zauriel was fighting it... and, slowly, with every move an effort and sweat beading on his face... forcing himself to stand. Using the back of the couch to help himself up, he torturously straightened up. Blood watched without alarm and then, when the angel finally stood upright once more, he gestured again and quietly spoke a few more words.
A small jar of non-descript soil on a nearby shelf shook--toppled--spilled open when it hit the floor. The dirt twisted, churned, and grew until a figure took shape from it to stand passively in front of its master. It was formed like a man but stood a good eight or nine feet tall. Men had once called such things golems.
Blood pointed calmly towards the still-struggling Zauriel, saying, "Restrain." The golem obeyed, stepping mindlessly forward to grasp the angel in a grip as strong and untiring as stone--not hurting him, just keeping from effectively attacking--or doing much of anything effectively, for that matter. Zauriel resisted, strained; but weakened as he was from the first attack, he might as well have tried to wrest the stars from the sky.
Harry, peeking from around the corner of the couch, grinned. This was better than the WWF match that had been on, and that had Stone Cold in it! Still, he was betting ready money on Jase, who hadn't even whipped out ol' red-eyes yet.
Jason walked over to the struggling angel and said evenly, "That's two down. I still have thirty-four to go. Now, you can stop fighting, swear you'll not assault me, and I'll have the golem release you. Then we can discuss this like civilized beings.
"Or you can keep fighting, and waste the time of everybody involved. It's really up to you."
Zauriel gave one last titanic effort that accomplished exactly the same things as the others--that is to say, nothing--then fell back exhausted in the golem's unrelenting grip, glaring at Blood. "I should... have known... better than to trust you... the first time. I... won't make... same mistake twice... demon," he gasped.
Jason shook his head. "You break into my home to threaten and accuse me of something I haven't done. I have defended myself, and now, instead of having you thrown out the window like I feel like doing right now, am offering to talk things over with you if you promise not to attack the second I free you. And somehow, this places me in the wrong?"
Zauriel opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and hung his head. After a moment, he spoke in a low voice, "Forgive me. I... I've... judged and I didn't think... I was hasty and... forgive me."
Jason closed his eyes wearily, suddenly feeling an uncommon pang of pity for the fallen angel. Must things always... must Etrigan always... lead to fighting...?
"Release him," he said to the golem, "and return to the earth." Immediately, the golem did so and collapsed into a small pile of dirt on the carpet. Now bereft of the supporting arms, Zauriel collapsed to the floor. He raised a hand to pull himself back up... and found it met by Jason's own.
The occultist silently helped the angel to his feet, their gazes locking for a second in wordless understanding--apology on Zauriel's part and simple acknowledgment on Jason's.
The moment passed and Blood turned, gesturing for the Leaguer to take a seat as he fetched his guest a glass of water. Harry, now that the excitement was over, sighed and turned his attention back to the TV and the wrestling match.
Zauriel accepted the water gratefully as Jason seated himself, gazing speculatively at the angel. "So," the human said dryly, "I take it the Fatestone is missing."
"Yeah," Zauriel sighed, back to his usual self after the anger had passed. "Stolen."
"From you?" Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Something attacked me--a shadow or... I don't know. It just came... over me, and I think I passed out. When I woke, the sapphire was gone. Just like that."
Jason's investigative instincts kicked in. "Where were you when this happened?"
"Ah... I don't know the name. It's a big tower in the center of downtown Gotham--"
"The Clock Tower. How long ago did this happen?" Blood asked, rising and heading towards one of the room's locked cabinets.
"I guess about an hour ago. Afterwards... well, you were the only person who even knew I had the gem, so I just assumed... Sorry about the window, by the way," Zauriel mumbled in apology. So the guy made pacts with devils. That was his problem, not Zauriel's; and it still didn't justify his breaking into the man's home and assaulting him...
Blood nodded, waving away the angel's explanation. "If you'll allow me, I can cast a small divination spell on you... hopefully, it will let me sense, at least a little, what happened. May I?"
Zauriel shrugged. "I guess. If you think it'll help. Do I need to do anything?"
"No. Just hold still."
As Zauriel held, Jason took a small round mirror and a crystalline flask from the cabinet. The mirror he placed on the floor in front of the angel, sitting himself cross-legged in front of it. Then he let a few drops of the flask's water trickle onto the mirror's surface, murmuring under his breath in a very old language as he did so. Finally he closed his eyes and concentrated on the desired image.
The angel Zauriel was the target. The time was an hour past. Jason let his mind focus on the scene to the exclusion of all else, filling in the other details as he needed them: the Tower, the darkness, the sapphire... One of his hands reached out to touch the mirror, which began to glow.
Softly at first, then more brightly, until the light shone redly through Jason's outstretched fingers. Heat accompanied light, the droplets of water on the mirror beginning to hiss and then to steam as magical energies played out beneath them. The angel watched in interest as Jason continued to chant softly, seemingly unaffected by the heat which boiled away the water and super-heated the glass.
Something in the apartment shifted. To any observer that might have watched, the sound of the words, though barely audible, seemed to fill the ear and mind... The noises of the TV faded and died; the sounds of the street and city below vanished into nothing. The only realities were the rising, falling, quiet words... and the mirror.
It glowed white-hot by the time Jason trailed off into silence, bending all his will into retrieving the image from the ethereal world. His eyes slowly opened and fixed on the glass, observing the scene that played out on the brilliant surface.
Here is the fallen angel, sitting pensive on the creation of stone and steel. Here are the stars above, singing of distant shores and symphonies. Here is the city, damned and beautiful, that great city, Babylon...
Here is the darkness--a thing alive. Jason seized that, forcing the mirror to follow it and trace it back, back, backwards. Behind it. Behind... here is the stone of the tower. Here is the darkness. Here is its master, familiar by his side.
Here is the child.
Jason blinked, startled and angry, and concentration broke. So did the mirror, without the demonologist focusing his will on channeling the mystical energies. The heated glass burst into shards and fragments, the glow quickly dying.
It didn't matter. Jason knew who they were dealing with now.
"Hello again, Klarion," he sighed grimly.
Zauriel opened his eyes. "Say what?"
"Klarion. Bad news. Kid with magic powers and a cat. Crazy psycho little brat," Harry called helpfully from the couch.
"Yes, that's... essentially correct. Klarion the Witch-Boy is a child from another dimension with powerful spells and a dangerous familiar, the werecat Teekl," Jason said to clarify Harry's words.
"Okay, I guess you've run into him before. And he would take the Fatestone... why?" questioned Zauriel.
"I believe Harry said 'crazy psycho little brat.' In other words, God alone knows why he took it, but it would be wise to get it back from him as soon as possible--before he can cause damage with it," Blood said with a sigh, moving from the floor to one of the chairs.
"Wait up. I thought this Fatestone's not supposed to be a weapon? What could he do with it?"
"The problem with Klarion," Jason explained ruefully, "is that things around him have a habit of doing what they're not supposed to. I don't know what he could do with it... and I'd prefer we didn't find out the hard way. Remember that the purpose of the gem is, essentially, to rewrite reality."
"Uh... good point," Zauriel said uncomfortably. "So what do you suggest?"
Blood leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes to think better. Klarion was such an unpredictable quantity... and now he had his hands on a powerful magical relic. Though he didn't mention it to the angel, he thought of Etrigan's earlier words that the third birth was going to be the most important one of all, and he shuddered.
Like the situation had needed to be made worse.
As if thinking of his yellow-skinned companion had conjured him, Etrigan was there, speaking in his thoughts.
So, I hear the dear child returns.
I teach and teach, but he never learns.
Very well. The Witch-boy (and pet) I'll train
And instruct again in the meaning of pain...
You desire them caught? You desire them found?
Then let me out, Jason, and I'll play the hound.
I'll hunt the thieves who take the stone.
As a bonus, I'll leave the angel alone.
You have my oath. It's now your call.
Decide quickly... or not at all.
Jason mused silently on Etrigan's offer. He trusted the demon's word as he trusted a life-raft full of holes... but still, Etrigan was likely to go after Klarion, whom he was not fond of. And the demon's skills were sufficient to find the child. Jason made his decision, then opened his eyes.
Zauriel was still waiting for an answer. Blood wondered how the angel would react but that took second priority, after getting the Fatestone out of Klarion's grubby little paws.
"All right, Zauriel. I think I know how to get the jewel back. Now, I'm going to... change. Try not to overreact." Jason took a breath and began.
"Gone, gone, the form of man
"And rise the demon Etrigan!"
Smoke and sulphur swirled as the transformation took place. Zauriel, who hadn't quite realized what Blood was talking about, pulled away from the shifting form in front of him, throwing an arm up to shield his face.
"Dear angel, bright herald, why hide your fair face?
"In starry Heaven you've caroled, but here you're out of place.
"Amidst bracken and ruin--the human condition--
"You're all indignation... while I'm full of contrition.
"Irony, don't you agree?"
Zauriel's eyes shot open. Great God above... a rhymer. He stared uneasily at the figure in front of him.
The demon was casually crouched on the back of one of the sofas, taloned claws sinking deeply into the leather upholstery. He was powerfully muscled, the tendons and sinews visible on his yellow-hued skin and under his blood-red garments. A tattered, indigo blue cloak hung over the side of the sofa. His needle-sharp teeth were bared in an unnerving grin, matched only by the unholy gleam in the fiery red eyes.
Zauriel tensed involuntarily, his hands clenching into fists as he faced a visible incarnation of the evil he and his brethren had fought for millennia untold. Etrigan saw it and laughed.
"Oh sweet cherub! Relax your halo, fallen son
"We're not to fight, though 'twould be fun.
"For to the man who has with demons trucked
"I swore I'd leave your wings unplucked.
"And, while I'd love to roast you, or cave in your skull--
"That was not what dear Jason and I planned.
"Circumstances require that I show control.
"For foes more worthy of my ire are at hand.
"I go to hunt--that most delightful of chores.
"Aye, I go to battle, to settle old scores
"With foes both young and stupid."
Without further warning, Etrigan leaped up and headed for the window in one fluid bound, startling the angel. Ignoring the broken shards of glass and the gently blowing curtains, the Demon threw himself bodily out into the night.
Zauriel blinked and cautiously approached to peek over the edge of the balcony, fully expecting to see a little red, yellow, and blue spot on the pavement thirteen stories down. He slowly stuck his head over the edge... looking over to see...
...Etrigan grinning at him as he hung upside down by his knees from the balcony's supports. "Well? Coming, Cupid?"
With that, Etrigan unhooked his legs and swung free of the balcony to drop like a stone towards the buildings below. He landed on a roof with concussive force, but didn't seem to care. The rhymer immediately set off along the rooftops in the direction of the Clock Tower, never even glancing back.
Zauriel sighed. This was going to be a looong night. Grimly, the angel spread his wings and set out after the quickly-vanishing demon.
He caught up with the Demon a few buildings later as the rhymer paused for dramatic effect on the WGBC station's radio dish. Etrigan smirked as he saw the angel approach, his eyes glowing like twin coals.
"I'm so glad you decided to tag along
"Perhaps you'll regale me with cherubic song.
"No? Then let us talk as we walk
"To the Tower and Clock, tick-tock, tick-tock."
"I don't know that we have a lot to talk about, demon," Zauriel said through gritted teeth as the garishly-clad figure beneath him took off again. Leaping to the next rooftop, Etrigan laughed wildly and threw back over his shoulder,
"Oh, there's much to speak of, and much to discuss
"Heaven, and Hell, and Christmas hogs trussed
"Or, perhaps, our mutual friend...
"What say you of Blood? Do you attack or defend?"
"Attack or defend--?" Zauriel echoed, struggling with Etrigan's mode of speech. "I guess I... if you're asking me what I think of Jason Blood... Look, this is not the sort of conversation I expected to be having. If someone had told me this morning that at 10:00 p.m., a demon would be asking me what I think of his human master, well, I'd have been a little bit-"
Etrigan's unexpected, angry snarl interrupted and startled Zauriel.
"Do you think me a dog, do you think I'm a pet?
"Others have said it. 'Tis a mistake they regret.
"Blood my master? Ha. As the moon rules the Earth.
"If you jest, angel friend, I don't see the mirth."
"Uh... okay. Sorry to offend you. Bad choice of words," Zauriel muttered. "Well, okay. What do I think of your... friend? I... I don't really understand him. I mean, I can't condone what he is--what he's done--but he seems-"
"What Blood is? What Blood's done?
"Elaborate please, heaven's son."
Zauriel grimaced and wondered if he was ever going to get through a complete sentence with the rhymer. "Isn't it kind of obvious?
"We're talking about a human who decided to invite something like you into his body. I don't know what he thought he'd get out of bonding himself with you, but-"
Again the angel was interrupted, this time by laughter.
"Oh, sweet seraph! I'm afraid you've made a mistake.
"Our unwelcome union was not of Blood's choice or make.
"Nor, I confess, does it please me overmuch
"No, this hated cage was forged at another's touch."
Zauriel blinked. "What... what're you saying? Jason didn't summon you and make a covenant with you? Then who did?"
"Accursed Merlin did the deed
"Thinking Camelot stood in need.
"But Morgaine won. That bright castle fell
"With him too weak to send me back to Hell.
"So to spare this world my fiery rage
"He found and bound me in the perfect cage:
"A jail of blood--flesh--muscles--bone.
"Thus this demon could ne'er roam.
"Aye, by blood ties he called me, and in Blood he chained me
"My jailer unwilling, Myrddin's trusting pawn.
"In hatred we've journeyed, and I've never remained free
"Through fifteen long centuries gone."
Etrigan had stopped moving during this recitation, standing motionless and brooding on the narrow window ledge of a fifty-story building. A cold wind had picked up from across the bay and whipped his azure-hued cloak around his figure, shrouding it in shadows except for the smoldering points of crimson light that were his eyes.
Zauriel hovered near for a second or so, his features rigid with displeasure. Finally he snapped out, "I don't believe you," and launched himself once more in the direction of the Clock Tower, much nearer now.
Etrigan started at the words, as if he had temporarily forgotten he had an audience. Then he smiled and leapt after his temporary ally, catching up despite the swift speed the angel maintained.
"You say, seraph, that I lie.
"If this demon may ask, why?" the Demon asked curiously, as he moved rapidly through the concrete jungle, the angel flying just ahead.
"Precisely," Zauriel ground out, never looking at his smiling companion. "Demon. One of Luci--one of Satan's thralls. The Father of Lies. Like ruler, like subject."
"A prejudice most unfair, angel bright!
"Besides, I've never bowed to the Bringer of Light.
"Even in Heaven's holy halls they must tell
"Of Etrigan, temporarily the King of Hell.
"So I repeat. Why do you believe
"That Etrigan seeks to deceive?"
They had reached the Clock Tower, and Zauriel alighted on the ledge he had occupied some hours before, turning to look out over the city. "It's not true," he said quietly, only the tense muscles in his jaw showing how truly upset he was. "It can't be. Jason Blood summoned you himself--he had to--and he made a covenant with you. He's not innocent. He can't be."
Etrigan shook his head, privately wondering what the angel's problem was. Finally he asked simply, not even bothering to rhyme, "Why not?"
"Because God wouldn't allow it!" the angel shouted. "If... if Blood's innocent... if he truly didn't ask for you... then... great God above, how he must have suffered these centuries... No. The Creator would not--could not--allow you to be inflicted on an innocent person. He just couldn't."
Etrigan smirked. He had expected nothing more than an evening of hunting the Witch-Boy... but fate had thrown in his path an angel in the midst of a crisis of faith. It was delicious.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, my poor spiritual tyke--
"But doesn't the rain 'fall on just and unjust alike?'"
"That's different," the angel snapped. "That's part of living in a sinful world. Normal temptations... normal problems... You are in no way normal. Nobody should have to be cursed with you. How could He have let it happen?"
"Come now. There is historical precedent
"For the sacrifice of the innocent.
"God can, God has, God 'could'
"As long as it's for the greater good--
"As long as it means Jehovah's won.
"Think. Didn't He kill His only Son?
"What does that suggest to you?"
"Gave," Zauriel said helplessly. "Gave. Not killed."
"Aye. And he gave Jason too
"Sacrificed him like the paschal Lamb.
"What a God, hmm? Such compassion for man!
"You have my sympathies. It's not every day
"That you learn One you trusted has led you astray.
"An old cheat, that One-"
"Shut up," Zauriel whispered hoarsely. "Just shut your lying mouth right now."
Etrigan smiled broadly and looked to the pavement far below. That was enough fun for the moment...
"Enough discussion. Now's not the time.
"I have a thief to catch, and speech to rhyme
"Though I do both with greatest of ease...
"I should do it quick, before we freeze."
The demon chuckled to himself and began to literally sniff out Klarion's trail, sticking his yellow nose close to the concrete ledge and grimacing.
"Ah yes, that remembered stench, foul and vile
"Of kitty cat and unwashed child.
"So keep up, angel, if you can
"For Klarion's trailed by Etrigan!"
Snarling fire into the night, Hell's rhymer prince leapt from the tower's ledge and began the hunt in earnest. Silently, his face a mask over conflicting emotions, Zauriel spread his wings and followed.
ELSEWHERE IN GOTHAM...
"Teekl! No! Bad kitty! Bad!"
The dun-colored cat meowed plaintively and rubbed herself up against her young master's legs. He was not fooled.
"Oh no you don't. Don't you dare take that tone with me. You know what you've done, Teekl, and I expect my stone back now. It is not a cat toy." The boy stamped his foot for emphasis.
The cat sniffed and sat down, beginning to wash her face unconcernedly. Klarion sighed.
"Fine. Be that way. But just be warned. I'm not feeding you for the rest of the week. So there."
Teekl mrrowled angrily, the fur on her back standing up. Klarion met her green-eyed gaze stare for stare with all the stubbornness of a pre-adolescent sorcerer. The cat backed down first.
Making a few sounds and motions familiar to anyone who's ever seen a cat hack up a hairball, she quickly turned over her treasure--a large blue stone, beautifully cut and faceted. Under other circumstances, it would gleam with light, but right now all it gleamed with was saliva and cat hair.
Klarion the Witch-Boy made a face. "Ugh. Well, you know what they say: Never look a gift cat in the mouth."
He gingerly picked up the sapphire, muttering something about cooties, and wiped it off on the carpet.
The two were standing in the toy department of Gotham City's largest department store, dark, empty, and locked-up at this time of night. Of course, the security systems bothered neither of them, and Klarion had been having the time of his life until he had set his newest acquisition down to inspect a beautiful train set. Teekl had taken advantage of his distraction, and now he was busy scolding his feline companion.
"I went to a great deal of trouble to take that away from that mean adult-looking angel, and the last thing I need is you swallowing it, Teekl," said the boy. "We would hardly be able to save the poor baby with the Fatestone in your stomach, now would we?
"Now, I know there's a lot of distractions, but let's try and keep our mind on the job, okay? Good girl," said the Witch-Boy, petting his purring familiar.
"Now, back to that train set..."
THE NEXT ISSUE BOX THAT SCREAMED LIKE A GIRL: Woo, that was a long one! I'd had this angel/demon conversation I'd been meaning to have for a while, and it took more room up than I thought. Next issue... uh... um... wait and see. I know that's not exactly original, but I might take a one-issue break from this storyline, and I don't want to commit to something that might not be here. I can promise it'll have Etrigan in it! J