Chapter 4: Training Confrontations and Business Complications.
While Loona was waking up in Imp City, Jericho was wide awake in Stolas's mansion and curled up in his blanket. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been last night! What was he thinking?! Throwing a beer bottle at a total stranger. He hoped he didn't hurt the guy too bad. He didn't have the nerve to go and check. He shouldn't have assumed that he was going to attack that girl or that she couldn't take care of herself. It is Hell, after all. Anyone who couldn't usually didn't last long and he knew that. So, why'd he try to help her? He could blame it on his chivalrous upbringing. His father always told him to stand for those who had fallen. But that kind of thinking was as old as his father was. There were times when Jericho wondered how his father had stayed so honorable since he was a demon of Hell. Maybe he thought it was the right thing to do. He did think some demons needed protection. The girl just didn't happen to be one of them. Also it may have been a small part of himself that hoped he'd get a chance to get to know her. She was very beautiful, after all. Well, he had little chance of ever seeing her again. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door and an imp servant came in. He was a middle aged imp with his white hair tied into a long ponytail, dressed in a dark blue suit and black necktie.
"Good morning, Master Jericho. Breakfast is ready." the imp said with a bow, "Shall I bring it up here or would you like to eat in the dining room?"
Jericho sat up and said, "Thank you. I'll eat in the dining room."
The imp asked, "Coffee, milk, or blood orange juice to drink, sir?"
Standing up, Jericho said, "Blood orange juice with no sinew, please."
"It will be waiting downstairs, sir. Is that all?" The imp said.
Jericho nodded and the imp quickly left, shutting the door behind him. Jericho slowly got out of bed and dressed. He didn't really feel like eating. Normally, he'd have a bowl of Damned Charms and that would be that, but Stolas liked a homemade breakfast.
"I don't like my family eating that technicolor garbage," Stolas had said, "A good, healthy breakfast is the only way to get any day started."
Jericho wandered downstairs to the dining room. He saw Octavia was at the table already eating an omelette, her head bopping to the music she had playing on her earbuds. He also saw his blood orange juice in the seat next to her. He looked over the table and saw it had plates of fresh fruit, biscuits with sides of Raisedberry jam and Wraith Grape jelly, toast with a side of butter, and hot sausages. He sat next to her and pulled out his phone. He looked up the post about the party last night. He was grateful that there was no mention of the fight. Several hell hounds had posted pictures of the party. He wondered if he could find that girl in one of the pictures and see if he could find her to apologize again. He reached over and grabbed a sausage and took a bite. As he ate, he thought, "Maybe this time we could get off on the right foot."
He found an account that had several pictures of the guy he hit. They were taken by the girl who organized the party. He figured they could be dating or siblings. He looked through her posted pictures and saw several of them making out. So, hopefully not siblings. Just then, Stolas walked in from the kitchen with an imp servant. The imp was holding two plates of food.
Stolas smiled wide at his daughter and nephew, "Good morning, Via sweetheart. Good morning, Jeri. I hope you both had a good night's sleep."
Octavia had her mouth full, but she smiled and nodded to her father. Jericho gave a quick, "Good morning" and looked back to his phone. He couldn't see the girl in any pictures from the party. She must've gone home after what happened. Great. Now, he felt bad for ruining her night. He finished his sausage as the imp set Stolas's and Jericho's plate down. Jericho's plate was scrambled eggs with green peppers and onions mixed in with a side of four stripes of bacon. Jericho smiled. He didn't normally like a big meal at breakfast, but he could get used to it. He looked at Stolas plate and saw it was a little more messy than his own. Stolas also had eggs, but they looked like someone's failed attempts at making them sunny side up. Some were too runny, others looked almost burnt, and Jericho could swear he saw an egg shell or two there as well.
Octavia took out her earbuds and asked, "Still having trouble with sunny side up, Dad?"
Stolas shrugged and said, "I'm having trouble figuring out when to flip them. But I'm not giving up."
Jericho asked, "Why are you trying to cook your own eggs?"
"Oh, it's not just my eggs," Stolas said, smiling,"I made Octavia's and yours as well."
Jericho quickly looked back down at his scrambled eggs. He began looking over them to see if anything was wrong with them.
Octavia laughed, "I did the same thing when Dad surprised me with it the other day."
"I asked Gerald here if he could teach me how to cook," Stolas said, gesturing to the imp servant standing to the side. Jericho noticed it was the same imp who came to wake him up.
"I made sure the eggs were palatable before they were served," Gerald said, "In truth, Master Stolas has gotten quite good at making omelets and scrambled eggs."
Stolas asked, "Speaking of scrambled eggs, how are yours, Jeri?"
Jericho slowly took a bite of his eggs and was pleasantly surprised by how good they were. Not too dry or runny and they had a hint of butter and cheese. He nodded to Stolas who looked very happy with himself and he dug into his own eggs.
After a few more bites, Jericho asked, "But why are you cooking yourself, Uncle Stolas?"
Stolas swallowed his mouthful and said, "Well, just the other day I realized I have more free time than I know what to do with. I always enjoyed watching my Mother cook meals for my Father and I growing up, so I decided to ask Gerald to teach me."
Gerald said, "I felt that eggs were reasonably safe to start with. However, Prince Stolas seems to be determined to prove me wrong. After the seventh fire, I suggested he brush up on his ice spells."
Stolas smiled. He'd known Gerald for several months now. He was the second imp Stolas had met that wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Stolas had hired him for that very reason.
"Well, you know I'm always eager to learn," Stolas said, "By the way, Gerald, has the practice range been finished?"
Gerald nodded, "Finished and ready to use at a moment's notice, sir."
Stolas said, "Wonderful."
Jericho asked, "Are you taking up archery too, Uncle Stolas?"
"Oh, no, Jeri. It's for your magic training. After breakfast, you and I will start practicing ranged magic. We will be focusing on accuracy and concentration," Stolas said, grabbing a sausage for himself, "From what your father has told me, you've been having trouble concentrating on the simplest of spells. We're going to fix that."
"Great," Jericho said with little to no enthusiasm, "I can't wait to get started."
Jericho slowly reached for another sausage and took a bite. He was hoping to hold off on any training for a while longer. He thought, "Damn. If he finds out the truth, he'll send me home. Well, maybe I can fake my way through it? Just enough that Uncle Stolas decides to train me more? It's worth a shot."
Stolas finished his sausage and turned to Gerald. "By the way, Gerald," he said, "I think we should try to find a different butcher. The one we use now adds too much sage and it spoils the flavor of the rat meat."
Jericho's eyes shot open as Gerald answered, "I'll try to find another one, sir, but it's surprisingly hard to find a butcher that's willing to make rat sausage. Even for a prince."
Jericho bolted up from the table and ran to the bathroom. Octavia stifled a laugh as Stolas tilted his head.
"Now, what made him do that?" he asked.
Octavia said, "Maybe the sausages disagreed with him."
"And by now, a screaming argument with them," Gerald said as he walked back towards the kitchen.
After a while, Jericho and Stolas walked to the practice range. There were three targets set up at different lengths, as well as a set of kettlebell weights, and a baseball launcher filled with balls. Jericho looked around at the equipment with confusion.
He asked, "Uncle Stolas, what's the weights and ball shooter for?"
Stolas said, "Well, Jeri, once we're done with target practice, I thought it would be best if we worked on your concentration and spell casting speed."
Stolas walked over to the weights and began to levitate one of the kettlebells, "With these, you'll start at a basic levitation spell and work your way up while I add more weight. We'll see how long you can hold them up."
Setting the weight down, Stolas moved to the baseball launcher, "These balls will be shot at you at a steadily increasing speed. You will put up a new shield for each ball. This launcher is capable of throwing balls at over 100 miles per hour, but we'll start a 10. All of this should give me a sense of how much training you need."
"Okay, but go easy on me. I may be a little rusty," Jericho said with a nod, then he thought,"Okay, okay. I can do this. Just fuck up a little and everything will be fine."
At first Stolas had Jericho shoot minor fireballs at the targets. Jericho casually missed one or two, but made sure to make it look like he was trying. Then Stolas began making the targets move. That made it easier for Jericho to hit just enough. After a while, they moved onto the weights. Jericho held them up easily enough at first, but when Stolas began to add more weights Jericho let a couple of them lower and fall. Finally the part Jericho was dreading most, the baseball launcher. He knew he could easily hold off 100 MPH, but he knew he had to fail just enough. So, when they started, Jericho did excellent. As Stolas raised the speed, Jericho slowed his response time a little bit. When the balls reached 65 MPH, he lowered the strength of the shield just enough that the balls would crack it. The last ball however came at the full 100 MPH speed. Jericho dove out of its way as his shield shattered at the impact. Stolas ran to Jericho's side.
"Satan Below, Jericho, are you alright?!" he said, starting to help Jericho up, "I don't understand how that happened. I must've bumped against the control."
Jericho brushed himself off. He said, "I'm fine, Uncle. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."
Stolas gave a sigh of relief, "Oh, good. I don't know what I would've told your father if you'd had an accident on your first day back in training."
Jericho chuckled, "Yeah, Dad probably wouldn't want to hear I had my head nearly taken off by a baseball."
Stolas looked around the field and said, "Well, I can tell you're more than a little out of practice. That will do for today. I'll start working on a training course to get you caught up."
Jericho nodded and gave Stolas a sad smile, but inside he was cartwheeling. He did it! He fooled his uncle! Now, he'd get to stay for months, maybe a year. Stolas began to walk back towards the mansion. Jericho slowly followed behind. He looked back at the training field and thought, "I hope Gerald and the others won't have trouble cleaning this up."
He turned back to follow Stolas. He planned on asking if he could help clean up, but he didn't get the chance. A gigantic fireball was rocketing toward him! Thinking quickly, Jericho raised a shield and braced for the impact. The fireball struck the shield, sending Jericho back several feet. Then, a second came and a third! Jericho held out against the blasts. He saw a larger fourth fireball coming. He moved quickly and doubled his shields, again bracing for the impact. The blast from the fireballs knocked Jericho off his feet and he landed on his back. He groaned and sat up. He didn't have long to rest as he noticed a portal open above him. An enormous boulder fell out of it! Jericho raised his hands and cast a levitation spell, giving himself time to move out of it's way before it came smashing to the ground! Jericho tried to catch his breath, but he was nearly hit by a smaller, faster moving fireball. He dodged and rolled as best he could from a new wave of smaller fireballs. He raised his shields again, trying to move them fast enough to block all of them. They began moving faster and faster, swirling around Jericho like a tornado. Suddenly, the boulder was lifted up and moved to fall on Jericho again. As it fell, Jericho cast another levitation spell, trying to hold it off while the fireballs continued to strike his shield. He strained as the pressure of the spells began to get to him. He used all his strength to push the boulder away, but it would budge! Thinking quickly, he cast another shield and used it to hold the boulder up. He rolled out from underneath and cast his own fireball and shot it at the boulder, blowing it to bits. The debris fell and landed on the fireballs, causing them to explode. Jericho laid on the ground and panted. After a moment, Jericho steadied himself, sat up, and looked up at his attacker. It was Stolas! And he looked furious.
Jericho panted out, "Uncle Stolas? Why did-?"
"A baseball," Stolas said coldly, "is a piece of rubber wrapped in yarn and held together by leather. The launcher was throwing them at you at a mere 65 MPH with the last ball at 100 MPH. A normal shielding spell can withstand blows and shots coming close to bomb explosions and greater fireballs."
Stolas slowly walked past Jericho and back to the practice field, "And yet one not only cracked, but shattered your shield?"
Stolas lifted a kettle weight with his magic. Without turning to Jericho, he said, "These weights are ten pounds each. There are fifteen of them. All together their weight would be 150 pounds. A basic levitation spell will allow one to hold significantly more."
He turned to Jericho and dropped the weight, "And yet you couldn't hold all of them at once?"
Jericho lowered his ears in shame. He'd gone too far. He'd been caught red handed. He said, "Uncle Stolas, I-"
"These targets!" Stolas shouted, interrupting Jericho and walking toward the targets, "The targets were only 5, 10 and 20 yards from you. At those ranges, a simple fireball would have no trouble hitting its target. And yet, you were missing them all, even the target at five yards, before I started moving them!"
Jericho cringed under his uncle's anger. Stolas walked to him and stood over him. "A novice magic user could've aced this course. And yet you seemed to struggle, Jericho," he said, still sounding very angry.
He reached his hand down for Jericho to get up. Reluctantly, Jericho took it and pulled himself to his feet. He looked away in shame as Stolas continued.
He said, "You were one of my most amazing students, Jericho. I watched as you mastered spells and conjurations that would take others decades to accomplish. When your father told me about your recent difficulties, I was worried. I immediately suspected a curse or an illness was the cause. Or maybe you were still grieving like your father."
Jericho tensed up, but didn't look at Stolas.
"But if that had been the case, you could never have defended yourself against my attacks. No, after that little display, I can see that you were trying at all." Stolas said, "I expected more from you, Jericho, not this laziness."
Jericho turned to Stolas and shouted, "It's not laziness!"
"Then what is it, Jericho?!" Stolas shouted back.
Jericho didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell him the truth, could he? Had Quentin and Xavier fooled him too? Would he tell Evelyn and Diane he was faking? Would he tell his Dad?
"I don't know," he said.
"I would expect such an answer from a child who has broken a vase, Jericho," Stolas said, "You have great responsibilities that require total focus."
"I'm sorry," Jericho said.
"'Sorry' is not going to help the people who you've endangered!" Stolas shouted.
Jericho bit his lip as Stolas continued, "People are depending on you to protect them! The protection spell surrounding the palace is not something that can be taken lightly. Your home and family needs yo-"
"IT'S NOT MINE ANYMORE!" Jericho screamed.
Stolas was taken aback by his nephew's sudden outburst. Jericho looked away as frustrated tears fell from his eyes.
"It's not my home anymore," he said, sadly, "It's not my family anymore."
Jericho slowly began to cry as Stolas watched him. Stolas frowned and pulled Jericho into a hug. Jericho hugged back and said, "They don't need me. They don't want me. No one does."
Stolas conjured a bench for them to sit on. He guided Jericho to it and sat them both down. After a moment, Jericho moved away from Stolas feeling a little calmer. He wiped his eyes and looked at the grass in front of him.
"Jericho," Stolas said, gently, "Please tell me what this is all about."
Jericho sighed and said, "Xavier and Quentin. Diane and Evelyn. It's their house now and they don't want me to be a part of it."
"What do you mean?" Stolas asked.
"Before Mom died, living there was tough. But it was bearable because Mom and Dad were there for me," Jericho said, "And now that she's gone and Dad's overcome with grief, I wouldn't wish my life on the most vile sinner."
Jericho leaned back and looked into the sky. He continued, "Quentin attacks me all the time. Those scratches and bruises I had when I arrived? Those were from him dropping me into one of Xavier's rose bushes. And that's nothing compared to what he's done to me in the past. Then there's Xavier. He's always spreading rumors about me, in the castle and to the public. I've had total strangers insult me for things I didn't do or say. Servants have quit because he told them I liked mauling imps when I'm bored. And then there's the things he says to my face, calling me a mutt or stray. Trying to undermine everything I think or do. Making me second guess myself. He knows exactly what to say to get to me. And because of all his lies about me, everyone thinks I'm a mence and they're practically untouchable. They have everyone fooled with their 'perfect' soldier and 'noble' scholar acts. And through it all, my dear step-mothers enjoy every second. But the worst thing is…"
Jericho leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, "The worst thing is Dad has almost shut everything and everyone out. Including me. All he does is sit and stare at Mom's tomb or sit in their bedroom. I've tried to help him grieve, but it's no use. He just can't… move on, I guess."
He lowered his hands and looked at Stolas. "Not that I blame him. I miss her too."
Stolas asked, "Have you grieved for her?"
Jericho took a deep breath and fought back the urge to cry more. "Not really," he simply said, turning away from Stolas.
He wiped his eyes and said, "I've been mainly watching my back since she was killed. I… I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to get away. Somehow. So, I asked Octavia for some ideas. Please don't be mad at her, Uncle. She gave me the idea to start weakening my casting of the protection spells. Not enough for anyone to be hurt, but enough that it would draw attention. I knew Dad would notice and ask you to see what was wrong with me. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I just had to get away."
Jericho looked at Stolas and said, "I'm sorry for lying to you, Uncle, and wasting your time. I'll start packing to go home."
Jericho stood and started making his way back toward the mansion.
"Oh, no, you don't, Jeri," Stolas said, catching up to his nephew, "We're not done here."
Jericho stopped and thought, "Oh right. He probably wants to yell at me some more."
Stolas summoned a handkerchief and gave it to Jericho, "Dry your eyes now Jeri, and listen to what I have to say."
Jericho took it and wiped his eyes. He didn't even notice when he'd started crying. He took a deep breath and looked to Stolas. He was surprised to see him smiling.
"Oh, you young little things," Stolas said, shaking his head, "Always so melodramatic. You and my Octavia have a great deal to learn about the Ars Goetia bloodlines."
"What do you mean?" Jericho asked.
Stolas smiled, "I mean if you think those two little shits have fooled anyone, you're sorely mistaken."
"Huh?" Jericho said, sounding more confused.
Stolas led Jericho back to the bench and sat down. He said, "Most of the Goetia families know about Xavier and Quentin and the problems they're causing, including myself."
"You know?" Jericho asked, "Then, why isn't anyone doing anything to stop it?"
Stolas shook his head and said, "Because it's not our place to do anything. You see, one of the guidelines all Demons of the Ars Goetia follow is that we do not interfere with the affairs of the other houses unless asked first. Each house is responsible for cleaning up it's own messes."
Stolas frowned, "This is the first I've heard of their abuses toward you, Jeri. Had I known about that, I would've urged Niberius to do something to stop them. However, with poor Nibby neglecting his house in his grief, it's fallen into disarray."
Jericho said, "So, what can we do?"
"We can't do anything, I'm afraid," Stolas said, "It falls to Niberius to fix things."
Jericho sighed and looked at the ground. Then, Stolas put his hand on Jericho's shoulder and said, "Him or one of sons."
Jericho looked up to Stolas in shock. "Me?" he said, "What can I do?"
Stolas smiled and said, "You can put those two in their place and settle things in the house of your father."
Jericho asked, "How? I can't fight them."
"Have you tried?" Stolas asked.
Jericho thought about it. He'd fought back at first. He'd tried to stop the beatings and untangle the lies. The more he tried though, the worse it seemed to get. He sighed and said, "Not in a long time."
Stolas said, "I thought not. Jeri, let me ask you this. Why do your stepmothers and step siblings hate you?"
Jericho said, "I'm different from them. An outsider. They hated Mom for the same reason."
"Perhaps, but that's not the only reason," Stolas said, "Do you remember why you are here?"
Jericho was very confused now. He slowly shook his head.
Stolas laughed, "To train. To get better at using your magic."
Jericho said, "But I'm already trained."
"Exactly my point. Oh, Jeri, don't you see? They're afraid of you," Stolas said.
"Afraid? Of me?" Jericho asked.
Stolas said, "Yes. As you said, you represent something different. You are a Hell Hound. Someone who is one of the lowest beings in Hell and below their standards, but your magical ability is far beyond anything they can do. They can't believe that and can't accept that."
Stolas put his hand on Jericho's shoulder and continued, "You have your father's noble heart, so you would never use your magic against your family, no matter what they have done to you. But they, again, can't believe or accept that someone wouldn't use such power for his own gain."
Stolas stood up and turned towards the training ground, "They know they cannot defeat you, so they have been constantly trying to force you to see yourself as they see you. Weak and powerless to do anything to stop them. And until now, they have been successful."
Jericho began thinking about what Stolas was telling him. He slowly realized that Stolas was right. With the amount of power he had, he could easily overpower Quentin or shut Xavier up for good. Why hadn't he thought about this before? He could make them pay. He could make them suffer! He could…! He could… He couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Stolas was right when he said he couldn't use his magic against his family. Even with everything they've done to him, it still felt… wrong.
Jericho looked up to Stolas, "So, what can I do? I'll never have the guts to fight back."
"And that, my young man, is why I'm going to train you," Stolas said.
Jericho was stunned. "Train me?" he asked, "In what? Why? I thought…"
"Look at how you defended yourself against my spells, Jeri," Stolas said, waving his hand towards the damaged training ground, "You used an impressive variety of spells to counter mine. You have your father's battle instincts, the ability to think on your feet. You just need training to bring out your full potential. And hopefully, you will regain something that has been stolen from you."
"My home?" Jericho asked almost hopefully.
Stolas nodded and said, "And something just as important."
He turned to Jericho, "Your confidence. In yourself, in your decisions, and in your magic."
Stolas moved to get eye level with Jericho, who was crying again.
"Build confidence in yourself and your powers, and I'm sure those two won't even be a challenge for you," Stolas said.
Jericho nodded and dried his eyes again. He said, "I feel like it's implied, but I still have to ask. Does this mean I can stay?"
Stolas laughed and said, "Of course you can stay."
Stolas pulled Jericho into a hug, "But I will tolerate no more tricks. The next time you need help, simply ask for it."
Jericho hugged Stolas back and breathed a sigh of relief.
"I promise I won't trick you again, Uncle Stolas," he said.
They both stood there for a moment longer. A gentlemanly cough got their attention and they turned to see Gerald standing close by.
"Did the training go well, sir?" Gerald asked, looking around at the destroyed grounds.
Stolas said, "Not as I planned, but progress has been made, Gerald. Thank you for preparing everything for us. You and the others may begin cleaning up."
Jericho asked, "Shouldn't we stay and help? It's our mess."
"That won't be necessary, sir," Gerald said, "After all, it is our duty to keep the house and grounds tidy."
Gerald looked over his shoulder and waved his hand and ten imps of various sizes came and began picking up the equipment.
"We should have everything back in its original order before the Pentagram sets, sir," Gerald said with a bow.
Stolas smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Gerald. Come along, Jeri. I'll fix us some lunch."
Gerald said, "I've set the fire department's direct number to your speed dial, sir. Just hit 9 and send."
Stolas rolled his eyes and continued towards the house with Jericho close behind. As they walked, one imp in the group of cleaners was watching them.
He spoke quietly into the microphone in his watch, "Subjects heading back to the place."
"Confirmed and will continue surveillance," a voice said in his ear bud.
He quickly looked around and saw no one had noticed and continued cleaning.
When Jericho and Stolas walked into the kitchen, Stolas went to the fridge and began to look inside.
"We should have plenty of leftovers to have for lunch," he said and turned to Jericho, "What are you in the mood for, Jeti? Hmm? We have sandwiches, leftover meat and veggies stew, lots of things. I even saved a few of the sausages from breakfast."
Jericho sat at the table and said, "Uh, that's okay, Uncle. I'll just-"
Suddenly, Stolas's phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He gave a quick happy squeal.
"It's Blitzy!" he said excitedly, "He's never called me this early before."
Jericho laughed to himself as he watched Stolas practically bouncing in anticipation for his phone to ring four times. Oddly, it did on the first set of rings. Stolas was surprised, but quickly answered the call.
"Good morning, dear Blitzy," he said, "What a welcome surprise, hearing from you this… What?"
Suddenly, Stolas shouted, "WHAT?!"
Jericho was stunned by his uncle's outburst that seemed to shake the whole kitchen. Stolas looked terrified. He frantically said, "Are you all alright?! What happened?! Is he still there?!"
Stolad breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto a chair. "Oh, Thank you Satan."
"Uncle, what's going on? Is he okay?" Jericho asked.
Stolas looked at Jericho. He stood up and headed for the door, saying "He's fine, but there's a bit of an emergency. Wait here, Jericho."
Jericho nodded as Stolas walked out the door and into the hallway. Stolas looked around to make sure he was alone. When he was sure, he spoke to Blitzø again.
"Alright," he said, "Tell me exactly what happened, Blitzy."
Back in Imp City, Blitzø was pacing in his office, trying to think about how to start. He rubbed his head and said, "Well, I had just come up from the alley with my jar of bugs. Then I-"
"Jar of bugs?" Stolas said on the phone, "What did you need a jar-"
"More important shit to deal with, Stolas!" Blitzø shouted.
"Yes, yes, you're right. Continue, please," Stolas said.
Blitzø said, "Well, then I walked back to the front and there he was! The Motherfucking Radio Demon! He says he wants to talk to all of us and we head into our conference room. And when we got there, he threatened my Loona! So, we all… well, we pull our guns on him."
"Blitzø!" Stolas shouted, "Are you insane?! He could've killed you all!"
"Hey, I don't care if it's God or Lucifer or whoever the fuck else! No one threatens my family!" Blitzø shouted back.
After a few moments of silence, Stolas finally said, "I know, Blitzy, and I'm sorry for yelling at you."
Blitzø sat in his desk chair and said, "It's fine, Stolas."
"It's just… upsetting to hear that all of you were in such danger," Stolas said, "So, what happened after that?"
Blitzø said, "Well, the next thing we know, we're all up in the air and tangled up in black tentacle things!"
Back at Stolas's mansion, Stolas was pacing the hallway. He was so distracted and worried, he almost tripped over one of his maids. She gave a quick apology and ran off.
"So, I figure this is it, right?" Blitzø said, "We're dead and buried. And then, I see him start flipping through your book!"
Stolas was stunned, "He what?! How did he get my grimoire?!"
"Fuck if I know, Stolas!" Blitzø said.
"Does he still have it?!" Stolas asked quickly.
"That's the real fucked up thing, Stolas. After flipping through the it, he let us go and tossed it back to me," Blitzø said.
"He… he tossed it back?" Stolas asked.
"Yeah. Tossed it like it was an old T.V. guide," Blitzø said, "Why the fuck would he do that? I thought you warned me that if someone like him found the book, shit would go from bad to fucked."
Blitzø wasn't far off. Stolas had been watching Alastor since his arrival in Hell. He was, like most, shocked by the amount of power Alastor seemed to have at his disposal. Stolas had watched powerful Overlords come and go, either killed by the Exterminators or defeated and driven into exile. But even as old as Stolas was, he had never seen a sinner demon as powerful as Alastor. He couldn't match the powers of the Ars Goetia, but his strength was enough to garner attention. Like all of Hell, Stolas watched and listened as the Radio Demon carved his way through several powerful Overlords and their associates. But what scared Stolas was the fact that Alastor never claimed the territories of the Overlords he killed. He only took small bits and pieces of property and left the rest alone. In fact, Stolas had mapped out Alastor's path of slaughter and if he held onto those areas, he'd rule over ¾ of the Pride ring.
Stolas knew that if something as powerful as his grimoire fell into Alastor's hands, its power and knowledge would make him a formidable enemy. Possibly gaining enough strength to challenge Stolas himself… and maybe win. That was why he told Blitzø to contact him if there was any sign of the Radio Demon. To have him show up out of the blue was a shock. But to hear that he just abandoned such a powerful magical item. It made no sense.
"Just what is he planning?" Stolas thought.
"Hey, Stolas. You still there?" Blitzø asked.
Stolas snapped out of his thoughts and said, "Yes, I'm sorry, Blitzy. I was just trying to think of what kind of game Alastor is playing. What did he do after that?"
"That's the other fucked up thing. He hired us for a hit," Blitzø said.
"He is a client? But whom could he want dead? He's been down here for ages," Stolas said.
Blitzø said, "Some random asshole who found this really powerful amulet that belonged to him when he was alive."
"How powerful is this amulet?" Stolas asked.
"According to Millie, it could kill us if we get too close," Blitzø said, "that's the other reason I called you. Alastor said we need a magic caster to protect us while we kill the poor fucker. So, do you know anyone who's got a death wish?"
Stolas thought for a while. He knew of a few people who might do the job, but he didn't think they could be discreet about Blitzø using his grimoire. He could go himself and simply hide the murder within his paperwork, but he had already filled out his allotted deaths for the foreseeable future. Then, Jericho came out of the kitchen and looked around for Stolas.
When he saw him, he asked, "Is everything alright, Uncle?"
Stolas was about to answer Jericho when a strange idea popped into his head. Could he? He certainly was a powerful enough magic user. But wouldn't he? He was fairly sure he'd keep their little secret. Yes, that just may be the right medicine for him. Stolas nodded and smiled at Jericho.
He said, "I just happened to have just the right demon in mind. Give me an hour and I will be at I.M.P. with your man."
"Thank fuck," Blitzø said, "Okay, I'll tell the others. See ya in an hour."
With that, Stolas hung up and turned to Jericho.
"Go shower and put on some good clothes, Jeri," Stolas said with a smile, "We're going out."
Jericho said, "Okay, but what's going on?"
Stolas started walking down the hall and said, "I'll tell you on our way to your new job."
After Jericho and Stolas left the hallway, the maid slipped down from her hiding place on the ceiling. She was panting in fear.
A voice from her ear bud said, "Uh, we need confirmation. Did you just say-"
"Yes, yes!" she nearly shrieked into her mike, "I heard him say, 'Alastor' plain as day! If he's involved I'm this, I want out! I'm not working for that psycho!"
"Calm the hell down!" the voice said, "He's not in charge. We're as upset as you are. As sensitive as things are right now, we don't need that kind of trouble. For now, follow your orders. Keep watching the subjects and report anything to us. Confirm?"
The maid took a deep breath and said, "Acknowledged."
End of Part 4.
