"Oooh, you know what them elves is up to? See, every year, right, there be a secret meetin' of elves and all sorts of other evil creatures, where they be doin' their secret plottin' and the like. And they drink lots of expensive drinkies an' eat those little bits of cheese on sticks. It was in that secret meetin' that they came up with the plan to shoot moi 'erd of 'orses with a burning ray! From space! I don't reckon to know what stuff they be doing or why they be doin' it, though. Who knows what them evil sorts get up to?"
– Ol' Phil, uneducated horse herder
…
The portal was a malignant tumour on the very fabric of the world, sanguine colours swirling within the red-veined rock which surrounded it. Louise rubbed her hands together, making a grating metallic noise, and stamped her feet to keep warm. Beside her, Cattleya stood placidly, holding a parasol and wearing a dark hooded robe and mask. Well, Louise thought her older sister was being placid. It was somewhat hard to tell because of the aforementioned mask.
She tried to ignore the clattering sound from their baggage. She had tried her very best to avoid putting anything breakable in there, knowing that it would pass through the hands of minions, but she wasn't sure that Cattleya had listened to her warnings. And she strongly suspected that Jessica hadn't.
"Oh, ma petit," she heard Scarron's distinctive voice coming closer. There was a honking, as the dethroned prince of the incubi blew his nose. "You must promise to call me as soon as you get there so I know you are safe, and you are not to go walking around any of the dangerous areas of the city! You must promise me that!"
"Dad! You're embarrassing me in front of…"
"I don't care! I'm so proud of you getting a nomination like this! And I'll be proud of you whether you win or not! And I'm sure your mother would…" Scarron fell awkwardly silent. "Well, she'd approve of you winning things in general as long as you didn't mention what it was that you were winning. If she wasn't an unfaithful cheap Heroic hussy who enslaved me before running off and abandoning you, she would support you too!"
There was a silence. "Well, I'll call you as soon as we get to the hotel," Jessica said, a little too brightly. The girl sloped up to the waiting sister, dressed this time in some kind of strange striped black-and-white long-sleeved shirt without a collar. At least she was wearing a skirt this time, even if her boots seemed to be impractically long. "Dads, eh?" she said to them. "They fuss so much about you spending time away from home."
"Father always seemed to be quite happy about me going to the Academy," Louise said. "We all go there… well, uh, present company excluded."
"Quite. Oh, I know the feeling," said Cattleya. "Mother and Father get so antsy when I'm out of the house! Overprotective parents just don't want to let you out of their eyes."
"… yeah, sure," Jessica said, shooting a glance at Cattleya out of the corner of her eye. "Anyway," she dug around in her bag, "… here's your tickets."
Louise stared at the ancient-looking piece of black stone, carven with blasphemous occult sigils. She could feel the malevolence radiating off it. It felt sort of like a newborn kitten in her hand.
Mind you, cats had always liked her. She'd sort of hoped she would summon one. She would have been perfectly fine with a cat. It wouldn't have even needed to have fur as dark as the midnight sky; a bog-standard tabby would have been lovely enough. Alas, it was not to be. And sadly, minions were nowhere near as nice as cats when they tried to jump onto her lap while she was sitting on her chair-which-was-honestly-not-a-throne-because-to-p roclaim-herself-as-a-royal-figure-would-be-treason .
She had been forced to give the Jester such a kicking for doing that. Well, alright, she hadn't been forced, but she had done so anyway.
"Anyway, your minions count as hand luggage," Jessica said cheerfully, "so that's good."
"I hope I don't," Gnarl said, emerging from behind the baggage pile. "I have no intention of travelling in the interstitial vortex for this."
"It does only take seconds," Jessica pointed out, putting her bag back on, and adjusting the straps. "We ready?"
"It is the principle of the thing," the elderly minion said. "And yes. Come on, you scum-suckers," he told the minions laden down with the bags. "Hurry up."
With a series of cheers and the occasional clatter, the bags were carried through. Cattleya drew in a worried breath. "It… looks a lot like fire," she said nervously.
"Oh, it's not real fire. It's just the agonised inflammation of time and space," Jessica said.
"But does it burn?"
"Only if you're made of time and-slash-or space." Jessica tapped her feet. "Come on, we have to check in and I want to look around the stores before we have to get changed for this evening. Let's go!" And with that said, she stepped into the flaming portal.
"I don't think I can do it," Cattleya said, a hint of fang showing as she bit her lip.
"Sure you can, Catt," Louise said soothingly. "Look… I'll hold your hand. And go first. Just close your eyes and don't think too hard about it." Trying to suppress her own nervousness, the overlady stepped through, half-dragging her sister.
The first thing that hit her was the smoke. The second was the cold. Jessica clearly had not been joking when she told them to wrap up warmly. But that was a lesser thing, compared to the way that Louise was now trying to hack out her lungs. She collapsed to her knees, gasping for air, her eyes streaming. The yellow-brown fog around her stunk of tar and steel and other, worse things.
"Founder, I bet it would be horrible if I actually had to breathe!" Cattleya said. "Are you alright?"
"Do I look alright?" was what Louise tried to say, but its passage from her throat was somewhat obstructed by the coughing. Something was slid over her face, tied up at the back of her helmet, and Louise gratefully drew in a breath through the filtering fabric… no, it was some kind of paper over her mouth and nose. She turned and through her watering eyes looked up at Jessica, who had a similar black piece of paper marked with a demonic sigil on it covering her lower face.
"My wickedness, it's bad this year," Jessica said, wearing one of the paper mask things over her own face. "I mean, I know it usually gets worse in the winter months, but this is horrible." She coughed, her own eyes streaming. "I'm half-demon and it's really unpleasant for me; I can't imagine how it is for you."
"Horrible," Louise managed, pathetically grateful for the paper mask which was all which was protecting her from the all-encompassing smog.
"Ah, can you smell the Evil in the air? Positively vile! I always do like my visits to Los Diablos," Gnarl said, happily, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his robe. "I should be able to meet up with a few contacts once you get to the hotel, even before the ceremony."
"How can you stand this?" Louise asked, staring down at her advisor.
Gnarl sniffed. "Stand what?" he asked, and shrugged. "Behold! Upon yonder hills is the sign of the devils! A sign of the Evil of this place!"
In great fiery letters, a burning brand upon the stark hillside, was written,
PROFANEGLADE
"Pretty Evil sign, right?" said Gnarl.
Louise did have to agree, the giant burning letters written across an entire hillside overlooking the city of demons probably did qualify as an evil sign.
"I will go supervise the little dears as they load the bags into the carriage," he added, hobbling off at an impressive rate.
The overlady tried not to breathe as she looked around. All she could make out through the smog and her own watering eyes of the city itself was the impression of towering, elaborate spires rising over an interminable wasteland of squat structures. The bleating of the demonic races and the constant roar of beasts and blowing of horns was a background refrain which cut its way through even the smog. Blue fire cast mad shadows from the great braziers which lined the streets, drawing in the warmth and leaving the twisted faces she could see cast in a strange light. And everywhere, even through the chill, she could feel the heat of the malevolence of this place.
This city of demons, Los Diablos, dwarfed Bruxelles. Her parents' estate could be lost in its sprawl. The streets screamed in the cold, countless chariots and carriages pulled by all manner of monsters who drooled fire and fumes from their maws clattering over the icy surfaces. She could even hear what could only be a battle, the crackle and snap of musketfire in the distance. She felt very, very small here.
Even smaller than usual.
"I don't like this place," she said softly, mostly to herself.
Jessica patted her on the shoulder. "I know the smoke is pretty bad here," she said failing to read the emotions of someone whose only exposed flesh were the glowing eyes peeking out from over the top of the mask, "but don't worry. It gets pumped away from the rich areas, like the area around Profaneglade. You won't be choking in the ceremony. It's just really bad around the portalplace."
"That's… that's better," Louise said. She looked around again. "Why's it like this, anyway? I mean, it was smoky around the Charming Fairies, but… this is horrible."
"Well, some of the unnatural philosophers in the journals say that the smoke is making the Abyss rise, and with time it will tear through the ground, casting down the overworld and bringing about the ultimate triumph of Evil," Jessica said. "And that therefore it's our duty to burn as many souls as possible and take payment in windstones and burn them and other such things. But I don't think it's true; I mean, there's quite a controversy about that, and there are certainly unnatural philosophers who say that it's just a natural cycle based on… you know, like, volcanos and stuff, and that in time the smoke will clear and we shouldn't ruin the economy by burning lots of souls for something which won't help the cause of Evil in the long run. And I'm pretty sure there's no way we could be making all this smoke, so something else has to be playing a role, right?"
Louise stared at her. "That didn't actually answer…" she began, but was interrupted by a minion-festooned, demon-driven carriage rolling up, pulled by something black and bat-winged and horrible.
"Oh, that's nice," Cattleya said admiringly. "Really long, and… who's a good demon-horse, then? I might just have a sugar lump in my pocket for…"
"We can fuss over the demon-horses later," Louise said firmly. "For now, can we just get out of the smoke?"
"Yes, we're all going to need baths before I'll even think of letting you near the dresses!" Jessica said stridently. "Oh yes, I have a few things I meant to say. Firstly, you need to thank the Cabal if you win. Really, really, don't forget this. It's a big deal. If you don't thank them, they take it as a personal insult. And ever since the King of Abyss was overthrown and bound into my maternal grandfather, the Cabal basically runs the Abyss. Don't get them angry. Really, really, really don't. So, for more minor things…"
…
The hotel itself was a towering pinnacle of black volcanic stone, rising high above the sprawling city. The three girls each had rooms which were the very lap of decadent, demonic luxury. And then they went to bathe together and prepare themselves for the evening, which involved giggling in a state that a hypothetical voyeur – who would of course have needed to be a terrible person – may well have had some interest in observing.
However, the only giggling from Gnarl's room was Fettid's mad titter, as the minion methodically stabbed a piece of fruit. And although the elderly goblinoid's room had started off just as luxurious as the others, it had now contained multiple minions for several minutes and thus would require, at the very least, a very good airing.
And for all the fruit to be replaced and the coolbox to be refilled and the walls to be repainted.
"I was going to be eating that," Igni whined, spinning a ball of fire on his finger. "Why you gots to mush it, eh? What is you, stoopider?"
Fettid grinned. "For the noise of stabbiness. Duh."
The violence started shortly afterwards.
After a while, Gnarl released his crystal ball, and looked up to see Maggat holding the red and the green by their heads, slamming the two skulls together. It was widely agreed among minionkind that such a form of punishment was probably the mildest form of reprimand they could give. After all, the skull was the thickest bone in the minion body. Settling down in the high-backed chair by the window, the old minion stroked his goatee and stared out over the smog.
"I have made my calls," he announced, "and made a few arrangements. I therefore will need a small team to engage in a raid on a high value target."
Fettid picked herself off the lush carpet, and rubbed her head resentfully. "Oooh! Ooooh! Me!"
Gnarl stroked his goatee. "This mission," he began, "will require many things. It requires sneakiness!"
There was a cheer from the other minions.
"It will require you to risk your own double-death. It will require total loyalty to the overlady. It will require cunning and brutality in the appropriate amounts."
"We can totes do that," one of the reds chirped up.
"And it will require a basic level of literacy and the ability to write."
Some of the minions got as far as nodding their heads before the words sank in and they recoiled in horror. One or two of the younger ones actually shrieked.
"But Gnarl," breathed a wide-eyed blue, "you is never going on no raidings no more! And without you, how is the knowingness of the tricksy paper words to be known?"
There was a cough from Maxy, who was grinning like… well, like a minion. "Ha!" he crowed. "You so stoopid! You say I waste my time learning to read, but it help us because I read on how vampies are all melon-dramas and that help us save overlady, and now you need me! A ha ha ha! And because you is needing me, I no can be stabbed at all!"
"I can read too!" Scyl said dreamily. "Like the wall there! It says 'C-A-T'. Cat."
Maxy stared at the wall. So did Gnarl. "Nope. It not say anything on the wall," the brown said, glaring. "There are no letters there at all. So I cannot do the putting together of the letters when there is no letters to put together. You can't read letters what are not there, stoopid."
"I can," Scyl pointed out.
"That no is reading! That just is putting letters there and claiming that they is wordies!"
Gnarl cleared his throat. "That is good. In that case," he put one hand into a pocket, and withdrew some strange stone talismans, hanging from red ribbons. "The minions which will go on the mission must wear these. And there will need to be a preliminary pillaging. You will require suits for this, and I do believe suits intended for imps will fit you."
Fettid raised a hand.
"What is it?" Gnarl asked.
"Is dressies okay instead of suities?" the green asked.
"No," Gnarl said promptly. "That is not appropriate."
Fettid's face fell.
"For the disguises to work, you would require a maid's uniform," Gnarl continued.
The green's smile was a thing of terrible malevolence.
…
And it was now dark. Or rather, it was as dark as it ever got in the city of demons. Whatever sun this hellish realm had was no longer above the smogs and fumes, but now those aforementioned clouds caught the light of the fires of the city below and cast it back down. The red and blue of the two kinds of fire mixed in the clouds to produce a nauseating purple, which cast all features in a strange light.
Over the great stone edifice where the Cabal Awards were being held, explosions tore up the sky. Vile demonic spells were hurled with dreadful abandon at the heavens, in a show of profound decadence. Dark sorcerers competed to see who could best impress the onlookers, for to do well at this would guarantee contracts and offers of hire from the dark lords and demon princes who attended such gatherings.
"It's really a wonderful showing for the demonstrations; they've really outdone themselves this year," reported the blonde succubus standing in front of a magic mirror, speaking to the enchanted object. "Of course, the warlocks and rogue mages aren't the only ones who have outdone themselves. Yes, this is the nine hundred and seventh Cabal Awards, and I have to say, the competition is especially fierce this year. Anyone who is, was, and even some who will be anyone has turned out for this! Oh my wickedness, the outfits look gorgeous! The coaches and malevolent riding beasts are stacked as far as the eye can see, but… yes, one of the nominees is apparently nearly here!"
In a clattering of wings, a long, black-scaled serpentine dragon landed at the end of the blood-coloured carpet which led to the main structure. Armoured faceless guards helped the young man in the black robe off his dragon, and, dragon-headed steel staff in hand, he began to walk.
"Yes, it's Emperor Lee himself, and I have to say, he's looking particularly villainous for this, his first Cabal Award. He's burst onto the scene like a necromantic death spell into a helpless village, and in the last year alone murdered the old Cathayan vizier, took his place, murdered the emperor of Cathay, usurped his throne and is now leading his dragon-hordes against Ind. He's the hot favourite for no less than three separate awards, including Best Newcomer – not surprising, really – and up for five more. And I have to say, he really pulls off that robe. A classic example of Vizier-chic, but with imperial overtones which are certainly eye-grabbing. And I am loving that staff! Mmm!
"And who's up next? Oh, it's Acedia!" The succubus sniffed, taking in the grey-skinned, washed-out demoness, in a short back cocktail dress. "I have to say, she's looking distinctly tired. Critics have panned her recent efforts… she's very much been sitting back on her laurels, waiting for others to damn themselves. That's not the sort of thing which catches the eye of the Cabal, and though she's up for Best Long-Term Plan, the odds are not looking hopeful for her."
The blonde took the chance while another carriage made its way up to sip from her glass of water. One elaborately plucked eyebrow quirked at the sight of the newest arrivals; a heavily armoured figure in steel plate, a half-masked figure in black and red, a dark-haired woman in a low-cut evening gown, and a goblin in a waistcoat with long tails. The goblin also had a hat shaped slightly like an inverted mushroom.
"And they're coming close together, our new contenders!" the blonde said, a slightly malicious grin sneaking onto her face. "In any other year, we'd be lucky to see these kinds of accomplishments, but I don't envy the Cabal for having to choose. Here we have the Overlady of the North, the Steel Maiden, wearing her signature plate. Although she's added a daring new armoured skirt to the ensemble, which reinforces the paradoxical and hitherto almost unseen mix of femininity and protection. She's the dark horse in this race, and some people say she'd need a dark miracle to win when up against the competition of Emperor Lee or Shafeela, but… well, she has the Gnarl on her side, who's emerged from almost eighty years of silence as her advisor. Yes, the Steel Maiden is an outsider, but she's one to watch!
"Accompanying her is the mysterious Carmine Countess, who there have been all sorts of tales and rumours about in the past few weeks. Some say she feeds only off unicorn blood; others that she is the heir to the dark power of the Bloody Duke, Louis de la Vallière himself. No one knows who's saying that 'some say', but I know what I say and I have to say that she's wearing a gorgeous black number which seems to blend Cathayian styles with Tristainian. She could have been a little more daring, what with that figure, and I wish I could see that face, but… ooh, there's something about a woman who's wearing a mask like that which makes her a challenge."
The succubus licked her lips. "Yes, a challenge indeed. And… okay, yes, I'll move on," she said, to frantic gestures from someone standing behind the magic mirrors, a subtle sneer twisting her lips. "Oh, and there's J'eszika va S'kareryeon with them, who's behind both dresses. Looking sort of podgy there. Could probably do with losing some weight, and looking distinctly masculine. Not very attractive at all. She might be able to design passable dresses, but I have to say, it's the others who are making things work for them. Must be all the human blood in her, and not in a healthy, vampiric way."
Walking down the blood-red carpet, which squelched slightly under foot, Louise tried not to show how terrified she was that the centre of attention of hundreds of demons and other evil beings. The commentary which was coming from… somewhere, she wasn't exactly sure, wasn't helping matters either. Beside her, she could feel Jessica shaking.
"Don't be scared," she breathed, trying not to move her lips.
"I'm not scared," the other girl breathed back. "I'm angry. Really angry. The one doing the commentary… that's Izah'belya. One of my cousins. On Dad's side. I hate her. And am trying to stay calm. She's somehow both vapid and emptyheaded and a treacherous stoat who… she stole Monsieur Saturnine from me!"
Louise blinked. "Your boyfriend?"
"One of my dolls when I was little," Jessica muttered. "Thrice-blessed succubus cousins who take things from you because they know it'll make you upset and… have to stay calm." She took a deep breath. "Can't listen to her. Remember, wave at the audience, but keep on moving. We'll get past her and her not-very-veiled insults."
…
"Dah daran-dah dan dan dan. Dah daran-dah dan dan dan. Do do, do do, do do-oh! Do doroh do, duu-uu-oo! Dah daran-dah, d…"
"Could you shut it?" Maggat hissed at Scyl. "We is sneakin' here."
"An' this is sneakin' music," Scyl countered, calmly.
"Actually, we is not sneaking," Fettid contributed. "If we was sneakin', we would be wearin' our normal stuff an' we would be in the air carrying thingies and stayin' in the shadows and watchin' out for those demony eye thingies which are above doors and watchin' for people who is not meant to be here. We is dissing guys here."
Maxy shot an annoyed glare at Fettid. "And if we is disguised, why you cut the throat of this imp?" he said, pointing down at the blood-soaked imp corpse the five minions had dragged into one of the bathrooms.
"Because I already crush airway, but that not kill and hornys get better afterwards and then he raise the alarm," Fettid said cheerfully. "And I only crush airway because he go 'wait, you is not impies, you is… goblins! Gua… argle argle wheeze wheeze' and then there was a wet bubblin' noise because I cut throat then." The minion patted the front of her apron. "I like this thing!" she said cheerfully. "It stop blood getting on me, and it also let me hide more knifeys under it."
Maggat crossed his arms. "Okay, so maybe we is sneakin' while we hide the body, but then when we hide body, we go back to dissing guys, 'kay?" he said. "We go to some lengths to get these disguises so we is dressed up as fancy backstage butlery stuff or whatever – I is not knowing what the hornies do because they not have minions and so they is worse – and Gnarl might be…" Maggat gulped, "… shark-astic with us if we not do this proper."
"I gots a plan," Scyl said suddenly, "an' it's a doozy."
"What are a doozy?" Igni asked.
"Something what this plan is," the blue said. "Right. We is trying to get to the special room of one of the suckybuses, right? And we got a body here. So all we gots to do is prettify this body and then we can say he's all sleepy and he's there for her and it's a present from someone who wants to get kissy with her and then we can be tricksy like that."
There was silence.
"That are a very stupid plan," Maggat said, eventually. "Look, let's just go in through the air things up there. We is almost there anyway."
And indeed, within minutes, the ventilation shaft in the roof of the target room was being pried up, and the minions were dropping down into the boudoir of the succubus with cat-like stealth.
"Ooh, string!" declared Igni, grabbing a ball of cord made from the hair of bloodily sacrificed human virgins, and stuffing it into his rucksack. "This are going to be real useful for funsies, and also… uh, what else, uh, tying stuff up!"
Maxy cleared his throat. "Ahem. We no is meant to be looting here. Gnarl was very clear 'bout that. We no can loot in the room. We gotta get in and out, sneaky like." He looked around the lush room, taking in the extravagant tapestries of groups of demons, many of whom were holding things which were either torture devices, or strange and arcane musical instruments. Eventually, his eyes eyes settled on a mirror surrounded by tiny screaming glowing humanoids in jars. Carefully, he clambered up onto the chair. "And look! Here are the letters we is meant to find for Gnarl."
"That are nice and wicked," Maggat said thankfully. "I not like idea that they might be in safey or something. Okay, Maxy, do what you is needing to be done, and then we can be going. Don't try to explain it to me, because it are scary reading things. I wants us to be done in maybe three hand-hand seconds."
"Says you, who is counting things all the time," Igni grumbled. "And Maggat! Fettid is stealing things too!"
"Is not," Fettid countered, quickly stuffing the strange garment made out of loops of black string out of sight.
The minions froze as someone groaned. As one, their heads swivelled to stare at the luxurious and rather mussed bed, where an emaciated, shrivelled man was lying, wearing only a loincloth, a domino mask and the remnants of a cravat. Even if he had been strong enough to stand, the chains would have stopped him.
"Help," he managed, huskily. "Please. No more. I can't… she… too much…"
There was an awkward pause. "Oh, there is no worries," Maxy said brightly, from up on the chair. He continued to read the letters in the black envelope, tracing the characters with one finger. "We is just a figment of your imagin-a-shun. You is going crazy because you is dying," he sniffed, "from the snu-snu of the sucky-bus, and so you is seeing a bunch of things what look like goblins, but are clearly and obviously better in any way you is caring to mention."
"Oh," groaned the man. "I had thought… someone might have… release me please."
"Nope," Igni said. "Because, like Maxy said, we is just thinky stuff in your head and so we no can let you go, or Gnarl get very angry at us for leaving place not like how we finds it. Also you is looking like a Hero of some sort, and so we no can let you go because it are against the Minion code. Because… uh we is Evil nightmares of you."
"Yeah, that is makin' sense," Scyl agreed. "Because we is Evil nightmares of things which are clearly better than goblins, we is not letting you go. If we was Good nightmares, we would want to let you go, but we no want to so we don't."
There was a scratching of a pen from Maxy. "I think I is done, and I has done what Gnarl say I must do with letters which will be read out by announcy peoples," he said. "I think we is needing to go now, because suckybus will come back here to get letters."
"I hear there is once a sucky-bus who is falling for the Karin. Then she take it into room and when she come out, it go and become a nun," Scyl said dreamily.
There was silence from the minions.
"This are the Karin we is talking about. And you know how the overlady get when she angry and how kissyness make her angry," Maggat said firmly. "The Karin probably tell it, 'I catch you acting in kissy ways again, I cut your head off'. And sucky-buses need their heads. How else they do kissyness? We is also needing our heads, though, so… goodbye, Mr Chained Up Hero. We is goin' to be goin' now."
The emaciated man groaned. "Fairwell, nightmares. At least unlike the other forces of darkness who have visited me in my captivity, you have not touched me or…" he shuddered, "other things. Your presence was a relief in that way, at least."
Igni tilted his head, staring at the man on the bed. "Hey, you know what'd be real fun?" he said, slowly. "Hey, Mr Chained Up Hero, we think we can be doin' something for you, too, but you needs to be doing something for us. Speakin' as nightmares, of course."
…
From the darkness of the rafters, something gleamed. Slowly, torturously, a great flaming eye opened, joined by a second, then a third and a fourth. Burning with unholy light, they sought out what they longed for, hungered for. Across the lightless stage they cast pools of illuminated blasphemy, searching, seeking.
Something moved on the right of the stage. The burning gazes tracked them, seeking out the release which was eternally denied to them. But no! There was another stolen wonder on the other side of the stage, and the demonic horror flicked two eyes over to track them too. It would be free! It would!
Illuminated by the spotlights, the two presenters made their way onto the stage. And sitting down at one of the tables in the audience, Louise felt Jessica stiffen in anger. She took in the female one of the pair. Louise glanced to her right, and noticed that Jessica was glaring at the woman in a particularly attractive – and manly – way. She came to a conclusion. "Another cousin?" she asked. "There seem to be a lot of them."
"What are succubae famous for?" Jessica muttered. "I wonder why on earth I would have a lot of insufferable, beautiful, bitchy cousins on the demonic side?"
"Stealing the life force of their victims? But why does that mean you have a lot of cousins?" Cattleya asked, sounding rather confused.
Jessica stared at her, and shook her head. "But with Dad and my grandfather bound, my aunt's basically the queen in all but name," she said, choosing to ignore Cattleya. "She doesn't like me. Well, she doesn't like Dad. And she puts her children in all the best jobs."
"Excuse me," said the dark-haired woman who, along with her blond male companion, were sharing the table with them. The blank mask covering half her face was mutely intimidating, as was the weapon kept close at hand. "It's starting, and could you please not chatter?"
A black-dressed demon, half-bowed, made their way up to the table, and passed a note to Gnarl. The minion unfolded it, read it, and then nodded once, stuffing it into a pocket. "Your evilness," he said, "I must take my leave. I am needed for a minor technicality." He departed as drums, vast drums in unseen depths sounded.
"Welcome, welcome!" the red-haired, green eyed man standing on the stage said, his eyes dancing over the audience. "This is the nine hundred and seventh Cabal Awards, and I'm your host for this evening. I am one of the nameless lords of the expanses beyond the Abyss, from realms beyond even your comprehension. All I gaze down upon, I control." He paused. "And last time I was here, I was picking up an award for Most Handsome Demon Lord, though of course, that was eight hundred years ago."
"Ooh, oh, and I'm his co-host," said the purple-haired woman with great ram's horns. "I'm just a lucky little girl who's getting her first major break, so I hope you'll begentle with me, your villainousness. And I have to say, this is a very close-fought Cabal Awards. The tension is really hotting up, which is just as well given the weather outside. From what I've heard, all the records have been broken for the bets on the winner. Certainly, this looks to be one of the most promising ones in as long as I can remember."
"Well, yes," said the man, "but you're only twenty-three."
"Technicalities, technicalities," the woman said, to laughter. "I may not have been born aeons ago in the uncounted depths of inchoate chaos, before linear time itself was hewn from the fabric of meaningless atemporality…"
"Don't put it like that," the man said, his voice deadpan. "You'll make me sound old."
The woman giggled, and Jessica growled. "I hate her so much. Hate. So much hate," the dark-haired girl muttered. "That was a terrible joke."
Cattleya nudged her. "Shhh," she said, "I'm trying to listen here."
…
"And I'd like to thank the Cabal so much for this Lifetime Achievement Award," grated the red-skinned, horned demon through its mouth of needle-like teeth. "I remember back in the bad old days… why, those knights used to scream when I sliced them up. Modern knights, who've stopped wearing all the armour and started carrying pistols… those blessed demi-lancers aren't real knights, like there used to be. The Dark Hermetic Empress never had to put up with those sorts and the sanctified blackpowder which is all the craze these days! And another thing! Let me tell you about what this holy new generation of overlords are doing! Why don't they use proper dungeons like…"
The full details of this 'another thing' was not heard, as the music started playing and the magical amplification to the demon's voice was cut.
"Quite shocking!" Louise distinctively heard a demon sitting at the next table along say. "Using language like that… there's going to be complaints! There are children scrying in on this! I know he's an industry veteran, but acting like this at the awards? Using sanctimonies like that? He must be drunk!"
Jessica sighed softly. "He hasn't done anything in years," she muttered to Louise, "and look at that belly. He never had that back when he was wreaking havoc on the lands of men. The journals say he has a drinking problem and fell off the chicken wagon again publically a few months ago. And that brass-and-scythe get-up? Very gauche and dated. But of course you can't say that his work is just dated where people can hear you. His fanbase is fanatical and vocal; of course he was going to get that award this year."
Louise had very little idea what Jessica was talking about, so nodded and said, "That's dreadful," so the other girl would think she understood.
Well, things were going… tediously. She had been trying to keep track of all the Evil deeds done and remember the faces of the malefactors so she could – when she could be Good again – provide useful information to the forces of righteousness, but… yeesh.
No wonder her armour had drawn so much attention in the journals of the Abyss. She'd lost track of all the identical tall, statuesque busty women who had paraded themselves in front of her on the stage. Were they printed out of some sort of mould, she wondered? Indeed, the only way to tell them apart was by their weapon, their haircut and just how little flesh their 'clothing' covered. She'd had to close her eyes at some points, because it had been so utterly indecent that she simply couldn't look. It had almost been a relief when the winner of Best Economic Domination Strategy – busty, red-headed and almost-looking a bit like a paler Kirche – had actually been wearing a dress, because that had been more fabric than the rest of the women up for that award had been wearing combined.
And the men! The men were often just as bad! Although at least they seemed to have two physiques, rather than one. Grizzled, unshaven muscular meatheads with pectoral muscles larger than her… head, or effeminate, pretty boys who… uh, reminded her of slightly older Guiche de Gramonts. The latter tended to come more from the Mystic East.
Actually, the person who had beaten her for the Best Newcomer award, Emperor Lee of Cathay… he had been fairly cute, in an exotic way. Not too tall, saturnine, and with clever eyes. And he was an emperor, too… an emperor of a barbaric, non-Brimiric nation and a traitor, usurper, and evil sorcerer admittedly, but… well, maybe she could have a dance with him after the awards were handed out, and see what he was like as a person. She even had to admit that it was probably fair enough that he had beaten her for that, and by congratulating him and saying he was the better man… or possibly the worse man, she'd need to check with Gnarl on the proper phrasing… anyway, by saying that, she'd look good – or possibly bad – in his eyes.
She was also getting rather hungry. And there was a little thought at the back of her head that at some time this night, she'd need to go to the toilet and she really wasn't looking forwards to that bit. She had a nasty premonition that her feet would be aching by the end of the night, too.
Gnarl clambered back into his seat, and cleared his throat. "I am sorry, your wickedness," he said to Louise softly, "but certain bits took longer than I expected. But everything should be arranged now."
"That's good," Louise whispered. "Uh… what 'everything'."
"Nothing very important," Gnarl said, smiling to himself. "Just a few irrelevancies which should help us in the long run. And I made sure to make it back in time for your big moment."
"My big… I lost out on the Best Newcomer," she said.
"Oh, your evilness, that was to be expected," Gnarl said calmly. "With what that Cathayan emperor has done in just one year, it would have been suspicious for you to win. There would have been questions raised about it, and the Cabal does not like having to ask such questions."
A horrible suspicion began to dawn over Louise and she glared at Gnarl from underneath her helmet. Before she could say anything, however, music began to play.
"Ladies, gentlemen, both and neither," announced the faceless, bodiless, manifest voice which had been making such statements throughout the entire evening, to present the award for Best Halkeginian Villain, "may I present Lillysuffering Crim'sondoomblood, leader of the Dark Elves (North West Halkeginian Reformed Contraorthodox branch)."
Louise detected a certain lack of enthusiasm from the onlookers. For her part, she was rather more worried about the fact that there was going to be an elf, on stage, possibly even giving her an award. She… really didn't know if she wanted to win or not, now. Elves were terrible, malevolent forces of wrongness opposed to the Church and mankind in every way possible! And whatever a Dark Elf was, it was probably worse.
… actually, thinking about it, that was probably why it would be giving out an award for evil deeds.
But the elf was not what she was expecting. Not that she exactly knew what she was expecting, but whatever it had been, it had not been… this. Every individual bit of the elf was suitably wicked. Her dress, such as it was, was black and had about as many holes in it as your average spiderweb. The spider theme continued with her earrings and other silver arachnid piercings, and the various strategically placed spidery tattoos. She wore a spikey collar, and spikey bracelets, and a single pauldron which was, yes, spiked. She had a pair of scimitars at her waist, and a whip, all of which were elaborately jewelled. And the ears which poked out of her hair were suitably pointy, in case there was doubt to the elven nature of the woman.
It was just rather let down by the girl at the centre of all these adornments, who reminded Louise rather strongly of one of her classmates, Marie de Bruxelles and who could really do with a bit more height and a diet to pull off such a dress. There probably were people who could make it suit them, but she was not one of them. And from the faint blush when she walked on stage and the occasional nervous fidget, she knew it.
Louise felt a sudden pang of sympathy, and then a wave of intense smugness that she had been confident enough to not pander to the dreadful and improper fashion sense which seemed to dominate in the Evil community. Or at least in the female parts of it.
"Oh, Lilly, Lilly, Lilly," Jessica muttered sadly, incidentally confirming Louise's beliefs, "you didn't listen to me when I said you can't wear arachnochique like that. I told you, you should have gone for something more post-Alexian sorceress, but no, you didn't listen."
"Hello!" the girl said on stage. "Before I get st-started on the awards, I'd like to spend… um… just a moment of your time to talk about the n-need to cast down civilisation and return all men and elves to living in the forests with nature! Which… um, well, it'll kill lots of people because they'll be eaten by wolves and wild cats and spiders and things like that! We're d-doing our best in the Dark Elves to do this, and we're searching for the last remnant of the elven royal line who… well, we made a pr-prophecy that when the elven kings return, who were, after all, overthrown by the Senate who said they were evil because they were making them pay taxes… well, we made a prophecy that when we find the True King… or True Queen, as the case may be, we're not sure… but when we find them, that'll certainly overthrow all the nasty Goodness of the elves!"
Jessica leant back in her chair, and folded her arms in front of her. "She's a bit… pathetic," she said, softly, "but Lilly tries so hard and you can't bring yourself to look down on her. It's a bit sad, really. I went out drinking with her once… well, rather more than once… you know elves can't hold their booze, right? Like, at all? She gets totally shitfaced after a single shot of Rusean spirits. I'm talking fucking hammered, here."
Louise shifted uncomfortably. "Do… do you have to swear quite so…"
"Anyway, when I was helping her into some fresh clothes because… well, she'd thrown up all over herself, she started talking about herself a bit. Her parents are big leaders in the Elven Senate, she's from one of their big rich families… the Leafblossoms or the Merryweathers or the Bushes or something like that. Then she said she realised that elven society and their cities needed to be wiped out and make them go live in forests and stuff… which sounds really pretty horrible to me, she certainly has her heart in the wrong place, so she founded a secret cell of Dark Elves to try to overthrow their government. You know, sort of like you, only you're actually able to do actual Evil things and blight the world with dark magic and kill government figures, rather than just putting up posters, planting trees and painting slogans on buildings."
Under her helmet, Louise blushed. Well… she was better at something than an elf. She just wished it was something she could admit to in polite society. Polite, non-Evil society.
"Of course, the elven government called them a blight and a bunch of long-haired evildoers who should be conscripted into the elven military so they'd learn proper elven values, and she started sobbing onto me when she talked about how they killed quite a few of her friends," Jessica continued. "I think she only barely escaped herself."
"And in the elven land, we bl-blew up the headquarters of several mining and logging companies. We even sent warnings first so they knew how they c-couldn't do a thing to stop us. All h-hail Evil! So everyone, d-do your part and c-cast down the civilisations of men and elves!" Lillysuffering Crim'sondoomblood concluded, up on stage. She looked down, and picked a black envelope. "Now onto the nominations."
There were the same drums in the depths.
"Up for Best Halkeginian Villain are… Graf Vilhelm von N-Nacht, the Count of the Night."
"Vilhelm, with the sacrifice of a hundred virgins, drew a cloud of night which poisoned the crops around Lake Valdermer in south-west Germania. He enjoys torture, beatings, and leaving unsuspecting women pregnant with his bastards and then failing to support them."
"Shafeela, the M-Marked."
"A subtle corrosive force in Albionese politics, this year has seen the plans of Evil for the Albionese monarchy come to full fruition. With the execution of the King and the Prince Wales under her belt, Shafeela is one to watch, though her failure to eliminate the Princess Hibernia before she fled to Germania will cost her in the ranking. The tendency of Heroes to emerge from cast-down bloodlines is a well-known thing."
"The Overlady of the North, the Steel M-Maiden."
"The dark horse in this race, the Steel Maiden surged to prominence this summer with the murder of one of the Council of Tristain, the Comte de Mott, and the arson of the town he was visiting at the time. And in a sudden late entry which will be sure to impress the Cabal, she broke into the de la Vallière estate, home of feared force of Good Karin de la Vallière and stole an artefact of great and ancient Evil which they had been keeping locked away."
"Don Marikos, the Masked Bandit."
"Murderer, thief and vigilante, the Masked Bandit is on a quest for revenge against widely loathed figure of Good Blizhart von Zerbst. The Iberian's flaming hair burns as hot as his fury, and his wicked fire magic has burned down entire villages to try to lure his nemesis to him. Rumours say that he is now turning his focus to eliminating the things in the world Blitzhart most cares about, starting with his shocking destruction of the man's statue in the Plaza of Heroes in Roma itself."
"And Cestiere Vie, the Revitrificatior."
"Practising a unique blend of necromancy, fire and earth magics, this Gallian low-born mage animates his custom glass golems which puppet the minds and bodies of men. At this very present time, he controls almost half of the duchy d'Aquitània without the knowledge of anyone else."
Louise blinked heavily. That… was pretty alarming news. She'd need to find a way to tell someone about that. She smiled to herself. And so evil brought about its own downfall at the hands of the righteous. Like her. She wasn't evil. She crossed her fingers and took a deep breath. Come on, come on, come on. Next to her, Cattleya squeezed one of her hands.
"And the winner of Best Halkeginian Villain is…" there was a drum roll. Louise found herself holding her breath, gripping tightly onto the arms of her chair. It's not that she wanted to win! It wasn't! She wasn't a villain at all; indeed, she was secretly working to thwart the evil, wicked Council who had so treacherously worked against Princess Henrietta! So not winning was a good sign!
She just… wanted to win. Because she had won almost nothing before in her life, and this was something massive that she apparently had a pretty good chance at.
"… Shafeela the Marked!"
Louise let her breath out explosively. Reluctantly, she joined in the applause, as a black-robed, masked – was that a woman under there? She wasn't sure – figure climbed onto the stage. She… this wasn't fair! She should have won!
"As expected. Wonderful," Gnarl said, happily, and made a little note in his book.
With glowing eyes, she glared at the figure with an inverted Brimiric pentagram on the forehead of its mask. Oh, she was going to make sure of this 'Shafeela's' downfall, be sure of it. If they were behind the murder of the Albionese royal lineage, that means they were behind the whole Civil War! Which meant that they were, at heart, behind the situation that Princess Henrietta had been put in! Which meant that it was perfectly in line with her plans to make sure that they were crushed beneath her steel-clad shoe as punishment for their actions!
After all, they had won an award for Best Halkeginian Villain, and that meant they were an irrevocably damned force of Evil, right?
Yes. Yes, it did. Smiling broadly, applauding her foe, Louise de la Vallière began to plot her revenge. In the name of righteousness for the mighty wrongs committed by this foul villain, naturally.
…
