A Downright Malevolent Interlude

The summer sky was bright blue. The woods of Albion were green and vibrant and full of life. Happy bunnies and cheerful deer frolicked and did whatever such animals do when humans aren't watching. Cheerful trout swam in the sparkling streams with only a small fear of a human sticking a barbed hook through their cheek and pulling them out into the air to asphyxiate. Flowers bloomed bright and beautiful in the warm, clear air, offering bribes of nectar to any insects that happened to wander past and feel like helping them reproduce.

Within the town of Aebbedon, preparations were beginning for the summer faire. Things were very summery, because there was an extra –e on the end of 'fair'. Brightly coloured tents were being set up, and the sugary scent of honey bread could already be smelt. The people of this area had always been shorter and rounder than most other men, with a tendency towards hirsute feet and while that usually just resulted in increased sales of shaving equipment, it did mean they enjoyed a good party.

All in all, it was nauseatingly bucolic.

Of course, everyone knew the forces of Evil were out and about, and that they were likely to try to ruin this festival. That was why Aebbedon had its strong walls to keep out any foes, and a moat filled with fast-flowing water to ward off the dead. And a strong force of well-trained guardsmen – many of whom were even barely over the retirement age from the army – to deal with more mundane trouble.

Of course, the biggest threat to them at the moment was the elite and highly trained force of tiny adorable well-washed small orphans trying to cross the bridge to visit the fair. And while children were prone to doing things like kicking chickens and carrying out acts of petty theft, a beating usually saw to fix such habits.

"And I want to be a herbyologitht when I grow up," said a little boy who was carrying a basket of flowers and spices with him, demonstrating a devastatingly adorable lisp. "I want to help heal people and make them better!"

The elderly guard grinned, and patted him on the head. "You don't want to do that," he told him jovially. "That's woman's work. Why don't you want to become a guard?"

"I want to become a guard!" a slightly older girl with red hair, freckles, and a crude 'sword' made of tied together twigs announced. She was carrying a long, thin box on her back which really looked too big for her, but she refused to let anyone else help her with it. "Well, maybe! If they'd let me! I really want to be sort of like Karin of the Heavy Wind! I like climbing and I like fighting! Hah! I bet no one ever told Karin she wasn't allowed to use a sword! You know I heard she once went to the Blasted Wastes of Vlaar, and no one has heard from that place since!"

"That's adorable," he told her patronisingly. "But you don't even have a real sword with you, so how about you just let me keep you safe?"

This seemed to somewhat annoy the girl, but a little girl who just radiated innocence and adorableness and sugar and spice and all things nice grabbed her hand before there was an outburst. The tiny blonde had a sling filled with woollen dolls. There were more in the bag on her back, as well as something wrapped in brown paper. "Thank you very much, Mr Guard Person," she told him very seriously. "But we can't wait here! Our friends can't get here and the fun can't start until they're all here!"

The guard smiled paternally. "You have to tell me if you're friend or foe," he said.

"Friend," the children chorused together.

"Then you may pass," the guard said, stepping aside.

He was smiling as he watched them go. Children were so cute. He was going to be a great-grandfather soon. His daughter's eldest was expecting. He really hoped they'd be a boy, and grow up to be big and strong. But he was blessed, really. He'd lived this long and managed to survive all kinds of wars – and the Civil War had mostly passed this town over, thanks to the wise choice of the governor-general who'd declared for Cromwell. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and it was nice and warm. What a day for his last summer faire before he retired, eh?

Yes, everything was good.



Five days later, the peaceful town of Aebbedon resembled hell on earth. The merchants' district had been systematically and thoroughly set on fire, small children had pillaged the faire bare, demons were roaming the streets preying on the righteous – and also the unrighteous, because they were fairly indiscriminate demons – and the governor-general was the focus of a show trial in the market square for crimes against the Dark Queen of the Dark Elves.

The fall of the town was a mystery. No one knew how the drawbridge mechanisms had been mysteriously sabotaged, the culprits somehow sneaking through a culvert far too small for any adult to fit through. Likewise, it was a complete mystery how potent diuretic herbs had found their way into the tea of the guards, though it was truly an act of dreadful cunning to poison the one drink that any Albionese worth his salt imbibed. The fact that all the sentries had been stabbed to death by an Evil blade which hungered for human life and left them as drained corpses was pernicious in its mysteriousness. And as for the mystery of why there were demons everywhere eating people – well! It was a most mysterious mystery.

But to spoil the surprise regarding the demons in particular, it was all the fault of one particular gap-toothed little blonde girl. Currently, she was on her hands and knees in what had been a rich man's courtyard, drawing a Vaantic pentagram in red chalk. She'd already placed the dull brown Valencian candles at each of the corners, made from a mix of homemade beeswax and her own blood. The latter component had been obtained from a nosebleed, because she was prone to them in hot weather.

"Hmm," she said pursing her lips. She twisted her head to look at the rag doll which floated in the air next to her surrounded by an abyssal aura of menace, looking over the summoning pentagram with its button eyes. "What do you think, Cuddles?"

The doll coughed in a lawyerly manner, and adjusted its knitted woollen cravat with mitten-like hands. "Most excellent, mistress," he said. "I can see no flaw in your work. As usual."

Magda was the youngest currently practicing demonologist on the Halkeginian continent, following the proud traditions of her family. The dukes and duchesses of Grantebrychge had long consorted with foul and blasphemous infernal powers, helped by their bloodline tendency to be fair-skinned, blond, and innocent-looking. No one ever suspected them. And as a pretty little girl with a sunny nature, Magda was a prodigy in her family's black arts. She had evoked her first familiar at age three, when it usually took them until the age of at least seven to master such things.

Sadly the Reconquista had burned their ancestral home and slain members of the family wherever they found them. This was not as part of an entirely deserved punishment for the way they traded the souls of innocent men and women to the Abyss and engaged in cabalistic rituals, but due to their support of controversial tax legislation the King had proposed which had been the catalyst for the rebellion. Indeed, although the Reconquista had alleged they were demonologists, they had been very surprised to find the open portal to the Abyss in their basement surrounded by the mewling spirits of the damned once they'd butchered the Duke, the Duchess, and all their elder children.

In the words of the commander of the republican forces, "They hadn't seemed like the type. They were quiet, and kept to themselves. Who'd have thought?"

Unfortunately, the destruction of a wicked family second only to the likes of the de la Vallières was thwarted by their second youngest who evoked the demon prince currently bound into her favourite rag doll, burned three squads of infantrymen to death, and fled off into the night on wings of creeping death carrying her little brother. Of course, the capacity to summon and bind a lord of the Abyss does not impart a then-four year old with the capacity to survive on her own, nor care for a rambunctious two year old. Despite the aid of her demonic familiars in stealing milk from cows and carrying off chickens, the two of them were gravely ill and starving by the time they stumbled by pure chance across Tiffania and her rag-tag collection of war orphans.

That was why Magda was here, being helpful. Some of the older boys and girls had been taught dark magic by their families, but none of them were as good as her. And there was no way she was going to let anyone stop her from helping Aunty Tifa! When she helped Tifa kill the people who killed her family, Tifa was happy! And then when they got everyone on Tifa's list, she said she'd help Magda go after the people who killed Mama and Daddy and her brothers and sisters.

That'd be nice. Magda was going to feed them all to demons. Slowly. Feet first. She giggled to herself. And then she could go to the Abyss – because all her family went there when they died – and then find them and bind them back on Earth and everything would go back to how it used to be! But better! Because her mummy and daddy wouldn't be able to make her go to bed when they said anymore, because she'd be in charge!

And she was helping much more than Hannah and her stupid people-eating demon sword! So nyah!

But no thinking of that now! She rose, and dusted off her grazed knees. There was no saving her dress. She always got covered in chalk when she did mass summonings like this. She snatched her demonhost doll out of the air, hugging him close to her chest. "Right! I'm doing it," she announced, and began to chant in the Dark Tongue.

A deep and sonorous bell pealed out, from nowhere at all. Darkness and fire unfolded from the earth, bound only within a thin layer of chalk. It roared and smashed into the invisible walls of the warding circle, flattening itself against the perimeter, but the circle held.

Madga's only response to the display was to hold her nose to blot out the scent of the sulphur.

"Who would dare summon me?" the dark shape boomed, slowly coalescing into an ever-burning humanoid figure which may or may not have had wings. It was somewhat unclear. Regardless, it was the kind of monster that gave small children nightmares, present company excluded.

"Cuddles!" the little girl ordered. "Talk to him! He's smelly!"

The figure of smoke and flame sniggered. "Cuddles? Ha. Why are you obeying this snot-nosed brat?"

"Ah," said the doll, adjusting its knitted cravat, "yes. I am currently bound to the service of this young lady – who has a clean nose at the moment – who has chosen to confine me to this doll as a host. Unfortunately certain constraints about her nature and how it interacts with mine means I cannot even try to find loopholes in her orders, but must obey the spirit of her commands."

The hulking shape of flame and shadow stared in bafflement. "Wait a moment. Wasn't it that you had to obey the spirit of orders from…"

"Pure-hearted virgins of noble blood, yes. Indeed so. A usefully niche constraint considering the pronounced tendency for Heroic types to consummate their passion with other wretched Heroes, until now."

The looming demon frowns. "I can understand the 'noble blood' and the 'virgin' bits," he said, "but… uh, she's summoning demons. How does she have a pure heart?"

"She has a heart of pure Evil," the doll said, sadly shaking his head. "It is rather aggravating." He cleared his throat. "Now, do you wish to negotiate a contract of servitude, or would you rather contest this summoning?"

"Fuck that!" the demon declared, to a gasp from Magda. "I'm not obeying some brat, regardless of how clean her nose is! I have my pride!"

The demonhost nodded. "My mistress, he wishes to contest the binding," he informed the little girl.

Magda frowned. "You're very bad," she told the giant flaming demon earnestly. "I like that! But you're also naughty and smelly, and that won't do! And you swore. Fluffles!"

A knitted black rag doll shaped like a five-horned kid goat, and which coincidentally was a sanctified and chained host of the endlessly-reincarnating demon god Falufarghlesh floated forwards. "Your wish, mistress," it asked, in voice of screaming infants.

The little girl broke into a gap-toothed smile. "Eat his face," she said happily.

The sound of hellish screams sounded out as a rag doll began to eat the face of a burning spirit of smoke and flame. Turning her back on the atrocity, Magda flipped open her big book of demonology. Humming happily to herself, she began to read the tome written in the Black Tongue with the aid of her index finger and the phonetic method for sounding out hard words. Fortunately the Black Tongue was much easier to read than Albionese. It didn't have complicated, hard-to-work-out-how-to-say letter clusters like '-ough'.

By the time she turned back, the demon was on the ground, unmoving. It was missing its face. And also most of its head.

"Oh," Magda said. "Drat."

"He was very tasty," said the rag doll avatar binding the demon-god Falufarghlesh.

"Well, that's good! You're my friend! But you weren't meant to kill him dead! Only eat his face!"

"It's not my fault. I ate his face and he died."

Magda shook her head sadly as the corpse disintegrated in a cloud of bad-smelling smoke. "Then he wasn't as powerful enough," she said, narrowing her eyes. "That's sad for him." She pouted. "Well, now I need a new toy!"

"Right now?" Dread Kuudeilza asked.

"Now!" Magda declared. "Since that stupid demon died when Fluffles ate his face, I want a new one! This time I'm going to try to summon a sukkybus!"

The demon-god Falufarghlesh and the princeling of the Abyss, Dread Kuudeilza exchanged a glance. Dread Kuudeilza adjusted his knitted cravat. "Why would you… uh, wish that, mistress?" he asked, a trifle nervously.

"Surely there are better breeds for you, mighty one," Falufarghlesh said hastily. "And it's pronounced 'succubus'. Why would you want one of those?"

Magda threw her arms out extravagantly. "Duh! Because I want a pretty girl to be a pretty girl doll who'll be my friend!"

"Oh, no, you don't want that," Dread Kuudeilza said hastily. "No one wants succubae around. They're frightfully stupid and-"

"Then I'll summon a smart one! I'm doing it and you can't stop me!" Magda said, crossing her arms and glaring. "Anyway, you're demons! You're not trustworthy, so stopping me trying to summon one is clearly a scheme of yours to stop me getting any girl dolls to have tea parties with!"

"It's really not like that," Dread Kuudeilza began.

"Shut up, Cuddles! I'm doing it!"

Again she began to chant, although the ritual was different in several key aspects this time. Sprinkling salt on the ground, she called out a single word in the Dark Tongue and clapped her hands together.

A pillar of red flame erupted from the earth. It somehow managed to be both lavish and decadent despite those not being adjectives usually associated with incursions of demonic flame. "Who calls me to provide my… services?" a lush voice said huskily. A woman with bat wings and ram's horns was lit by the crimson glow, dressed in a delicate negligée with the approximate consistency of mist which left precisely nothing to the imagination. Her artlessly tumbling reddish-blonde curls cascaded down her front, providing considerably more coverage than her alleged and mostly hypothetical clothing.

Putting her hands on her hips, Magda squared up to the demoness. "I did!" she said, tilting her head back. "And put the fire out! If you're cold, then you should be wearing more clothes!"

Crossing her arms across her chest and letting the fire die down, Izah'belya looked down at the little girl. "Aren't you too young to be summoning succubae?" she asked curiously, idly morphing her clothes into a considerably warmer fluffy jumper and pair of trousers. The Albionese night was cool, despite the fact it was summer – especially compared to the heat of Los Diablos at this time of year.

Magda crossed her arms and pouted. "What's that got to do with anything? Why does no one want me to summon a sukky… succubus?"

Izah'belya opened her mouth. Izah'belya closed her mouth. "This is the first time I've ever been summoned by a five year old," she tried. "I'm just a little surprised."

That got her a ferocious glare in return. "I'm not five! I'm six! And two months and fifteen days! Or sixteen days now, because it's now past midnight!"

The succubus sighed. "Oh, that takes me back," she said nostalgically.

"Huh?"

"When you're in your twenties, you'll look back at such innocent days," Izah'belya said. And then she frowned. "Though given that you're summoning demons at the age of six years and two months and sixteen days, I'm not sure you were ever innocent. Like, wow. I mean, seriously, wow. I'm a succubus, granddaughter of the King of Hell, princess of the Abyss, and the fact you're doing this is… like, wow. Seriously, what."

"She really wasn't ever innocent," Dread Kuudeilza provided. "She has a heart of purest Evil. I tried to stop her, but she didn't listen."

"Oh!" Izah'belya's eyes widened in recognition. "Kuudeilza! There you are! I was wondering why you weren't answering my calls! People usually call me back after a date!"

"Do you know Cuddles?" Madga asked curiously.

The doll attempted to narrow its button eyes. "My name," it said in a voice of doom, "is Dread Kuudeilza."

"His name is Cuddles," Magda said, nodding.

"Yeah, you're right," Izah'belya agreed, grinning widely. "His name is Cuddles. Hey there, Cuddles."

Dread Kuudeilza harrumphed. "I hate you," he told Izah'belya. "And I would hate you if the terms of my binding don't preclude me from hating you," he told Magda.

Izah'belya snickered quietly and shook her head in mock sorrow. "He's so mean," she said in a mock whisper to Madga. "You shouldn't trust him."

That earned her another ferocious little girl glare. "I'm not falling for that! You're being just like Emma when she tries to make people not like other people so they'll like her!" Madga stated.

"Gosh," Izah'belya said with a perfectly straight face. "I'm dealing with someone who's immune to my wiles. Oh no. I am defeated and trapped in this summoning circle. Whatever shall I do? I must try to negotiate with you, for I am at your mercy."

"Can I eat her face?" the demon-god Falufarghlesh asked, trotting around the circle. "She looks like she has a tasty face."

"… okay, Falufarghlesh, chill," Izah'belya said. "I know you get sick thrills from your faceophilia, but can you be serious for just a moment? If you try to eat my face, I will wreck you. My face is insured for quite a lot of money and has a very nice assassination contract tied to it. Get your jollies some other way. Maybe find some nice girl toy goat to make the Great Beast With Two Backs with, if you know what I'm saying."

Magda didn't know what she was saying, and began to search through her demonologist's tome to see what the nature of this Great Beast was. "I ban you from trying to fuse with another demon!" she ordered the demon-god Falufarghlesh, after failing to find a mention of it in her dark book.

Izah'belya had a mysterious coughing fit, and even when she overcame it she was still grinning widely again. "Oh my dark gods, you're adorable," she said happily. "You're certainly the cutest summoner I've ever had! But… yeah, sorry, I'm sort of busy and I'm not prepared to be your slave. Like, at all. So maybe if you just let me free, I'll give you… this!" Drawing her hand out from behind her back, she pulled out a strange demonic baked good, studded with brightly coloured blobs of a product of the partial hydrolysis of collagen extracted from the skin, bones, and connective tissues of murdered animals.

"What is that?" Magda asked, screwing up her face.

"It's a cookie," Izah'belya said.

"No it isn't! It's a biscuit!"

"Oh dear. It seems you've outsmarted me. Well," she said, pulling out another one, "how about two biscuits?"

"I don't want biscuits! I want your bound service! Stop… stop pat-ron-eyes-ing me!"

Izah'belya laughed, flicking her hair. "Your loss," she said, deliberately and decadently biting into the treat. "Oh, wickedness me! Look at the inside. It's just filled with molten chocolate! Lovely, warm, delicious molten choc-"

"I don't know what that is, but I know you're trying to trick me," Magda said, once again showing the terrifying wisdom which put her ahead of most demonologists in their capacity to detect demonic deceit. "I don't even think it's real. I bet it's just an ill lose sun."

"… it's called an illusion, sweetheart, and yes, that's what it is," Izah'belya admitted, letting the fake biscuits fade away. "But you have to admit, it was a pretty good illusion. Good enough to fool even me, so I could taste it."

"Can't I eat her face a little bit?" the demon-god Falufarghlesh whined.

"Shut up, Fluffles!" Magda jabbed her finger at Izah'belya as she picked up a bell and a rag doll with straw-yellow wool hair. "You're trying to trick me and you're being mean and you're using long words and being tricky! So are you going to work for me or not?"

"I'd love to talk to you about contracted employment – for pay – because I have something wonderful in my summer collection and I'd love to see you model it for the journals," Izah'belya said. "Being your slave? Sorry, it really doesn't do it for me. And asking me to spend time in such an unfashionable doll is just a no-no, you know, no?"

"I'm going to bind you either way," Magda said threateningly.

"No. No, I don't think you are, sweetheart."

"I am! Lots of demons don't think I can bind them! Fluffles laughed at me! He's not laughing now! He was very mean about it!"

"Yes, but… what's your name?"

"I'm not telling you that!"

"Well, okay, cutie, there's one problem with you trying to bind me. One ittie bittie problem." Izah'belya gritted her teeth, and strode towards the edge of the pentagram. Wincing in pain, she stepped over the invisible line. Her clothes smouldered and charred, and her horns flaked away, shrinking down to mere nubs on her head, hidden by her hair.

"Yeouch," she said, shaking her head. Blood trickled from one nostril and she blotted at it with her sleeve as she worked her jaw. "Ow. Ow, ow. Ow. Always stings like heaven when I do that." She grinned, and worked out her shoulders, balling her hands into fists. "So. Your move," she told the littlest demonologist.

"You can't do that!" Magda protested, backing away. "Demons can't leave the circle! That's cheating!"

"Yes. Yes, it is," Izah'belya said happily. She bent down and picked up a discarded sword, dropped by a guard who'd been eaten by Falufarghlesh.

Magda looked up at the smirking succubus, her eyes wide and her lips wobbling. "Y-you wouldn't hurt a little girl, would you?" she tried.



The town square was lit by the flames consuming the town. Demons gibbered in the corners and flapped overhead. The wailing of the captured inhabitants of the town was a constant refrain in the background.

Queen Tiffania the Malevolent, Dark Queen of the Dark Elves – despite their efforts to get her to change her name to something more fitting, like 'Malevola' – listened gravely to the offer. "I see," she told Izah'belya, leaning back slightly awkwardly on her ornate chair set up in the plaza. Until two hours ago it had been sitting in the governor-general's office. That state of affairs had changed when a nine year old girl hyped up on souls consumed by her sword had kicked down the door and dragged the man out from behind his desk. And then had gone back to get a nice chair for her Aunty Tifa to sit in. "So you're offering your courtor… curto… clothes-making services?"

"Tifa!" whined Magda, holding an ice pack to her black eye while she clutched two heavily tattered, scorched, and soggy rag dolls. Tifa hugged her closer, bouncing her up and down on her knee. "She hit me. Make her say sorry for hitting me! And also for stabbing my dollies! And then setting them on fire! And then stabbing them again. And then throwing them in the river."

"Hey!" Izah'belya objected, sword held by her side in case any of the demons got ideas. "I will consider an apology for the initial blow as part of our negotiations, but I'm not saying sorry for the dollies. They started it!"

"Because you hit me!"

"You were trying to distract me so they could get behind me and eat my face."

"That's not fair!"

"How is it not fair?"

"Fluffles really likes faces! It's mean to not let him eat them!"

"Shh, Magda," Tifa said, hugging the grumpy little girl on her lap. "She didn't mean it."

"Actually, I did," Izah'belya corrected her. "I hit people who try to bind me. It's a reflex from my human blood, I think. It's a very useful one."

"Well…" Tifa reconsidered, "I'm sure she didn't mean it very hard."

"Let's go with that for now, sure," Izah'belya agreed. She reached behind her back and pulled out a brochure. "Here's my catalogue, although this is just off-the-shelf prices. And since I'm trying to move into the aboveworld market I'm willing to negotiate a generous discount." She snapped her fingers. "In fact, I'll be more than generous if you'd be willing to model for me and we can get you in the journals. Think of it as win-win for both of us. It raises your profile and gets me publicity in the right sectors." She meshed her fingers together. "Perfect brand synergy, yeah?"

Tiffania stared at her blankly. "Huh?"

"… okay, let's try that again. I'll sell you things cheaper if you let people paint portraits of you wearing it." Izah'belya paused. "I'll keep the IP rights to the images and all associated merchandising, while you can wear the pretty dresses and even keep some of them, which I feel is more than generous."

"Don't… do… it," Dread Kuudeilza wheezed up from Magda's lap, fluff escaping from a sucking chest wound. "Mis…tress. I… can… negotiate. Something better for. You. You shouldn't. Give away your image rights like that. Not without. More recompense."

Magda glared at Izah'belya. "Cuddles says she's trying to cheat! Which she probably is because she's a dirty dirty cheat who cheats like a cheater and cheatingly cheats! And he's hurt! Tifa! Tifa! You need to fix him and sew him up so he can help us not be cheated by the cheating cheater there!"

"I think that would be a very good idea," Tifa said after some consideration.

"Darn," said Izah'belya, though without much heat. "Well, malignant anyway. I'll call my lawyers, and they can discuss it with Cuddles," she smirked as she said that, "over there. Let's do lunch some time."

"Do you mean 'have lunch' when you say 'do lunch'?" Tifa checked, frowning. "And when we 'do lunch' does that mean we're eating it together?"

"Yeah. I know some great restaurants we can go to while my demon-lawyers talk to your demon-lawyer."

"Then, thank you very much, I believe that would be for the best," Tifa said gravely, leaning forwards in her chair. "I am just in the middle of overseeing the execution of one of the forty-six men involved in the murder of my parents."

"Neat. I'm sure you're very busy. In fact, I can see you are," Izah'belya said, looking over at the bloodstained headman's block and the skinny black-clad elf standing by it carrying an axe. He looked familiar, but she couldn't remember exactly where she knew him from. There was a line of prisoners waiting, eyes filled with fear. Several people had already undergone the attentions of the headman, as could be seen by the stacked up bodies and the heads in a basket. Tifa's adorable little scamps had already borrowed one and were using it to play headball.

The govenor-general looked at Izah'bleya, shaking like a leaf. His rich gold chains clanked and clattered as he trembled. She gave him a thumbs up. "Which one is he?" she asked casually.

"He's number seventeen." Tifa tilted her head slightly. "At the start of today, I was only on number twelve. Today has been a good… um, sorry, I mean 'bad' day." She smiled awkwardly. "I'm still working on my evil vocabulary! I haven't been doing this very long!"

"I'll leave you to it, then! Beckon me when you want to talk. Madga knows how!"

And with that said, Izah'belya strolled off, thumbs hooked into her pockets. Behind her, she heard the sound of metal hitting meat, something dropping to the ground, and the sound of prepubescent voices cheering. Followed shortly by the sound of prepubescent voices arguing over who got to keep the shiny chain.

Ah, the innocence of youth. She wished her mother had taken her to more public executions, but she'd mostly been raised by governesses and tutors. Life as a succubus-princess of the Abyss wasn't all fun and games. Wasn't really many games at all when you were young. You only really got to relax once you'd managed to claw out a bit of status and could do things you wanted to do without Mum being passive-aggressive at how you were wasting your time. Dark gods, she was so glad she'd managed to pull herself up to a place where she could carry out the family trade for fun, not profit. Corporate mergers and acquisitions were just so much more intellectually stimulating than stealing life energy through intercourse. And didn't leave a bad taste in your mouth from some of the things you had to do.

Izah'belya frowned. That was what had been ringing a bell. That looked like Apostrophe up on the platform, and where you found Apostrophe, you usually found Lillysuffering. Izah'belya was pretty surprised at that. This operation was entirely too… uh, well, competent for Lillysuffering to be involved. She hadn't seen even one earnest poster condemning the goods of the nobility and trying to persuade people to eat less meat.

Man, she hoped Lilly wasn't ill.



She found Lillysuffering Crim'somdoomblood sitting at a table outside a pillaged and plundered tavern, a clay jug and an earthenware mug in front of her. The red firelight played over the scene. Lilly's scanty dress was even more tattered and revealing than usual, and her pet spiders had covered her in cobwebs. Several appeared to be trying to stage an intervention by webbing over the mouth of her mug.

"Oh. Oh dear," said Izah'belya, shaking her head. She sat down opposite to the elven girl slumped down over the table, taking her hands. "Lilly? Lilly? Wake up."

"Mmm?"

"Lilly?"

"Mmm? Oh, hi there, Izah-'postrophe-belya. When… when did you get here?"

"Oh, Lilly," Izah'belya said sadly. She picked up the glass and sniffed it. "Cider? Really? How many have you had?"

"Uh… half?"

"Half a mug?"

"… mo' like half a jug."

Izah'belya paled. "Lilly! That's dangerous. You know you can't handle alcohol!" Bending down, she scooped Lilly up, carrying her over one shoulder. "You should've stuck to slightly fermented fruit juice!"

"… couldn't. Had… had to make the… it stop." Lilly let out a muffled sob-hiccup. "So… so many people. All dead. C-couldn't stop them. C-c-couldn't even heal them. They… they bled all over me and I c-c-couldn't do a thing," she wailed. "I… I wanted to heal them because they were hurt but… but they were Good and… and…"

"There, there," Izah'belya said, patting her on the shoulder as she heaved her along through the burning streets littered with bodies. Lilly's spiders trailed behind the pair of women, forming an arachnid honour guard. A few demons tried to hassle them, but Izah'belya had kept the sword and it didn't take long for most of them to get the point and leave the mortal coil. "Come on. Let's get you to bed, eh? It'll feel worse in the morning."

"Dun' wan' it to feel worse. Wan' it to stop," Lilly whispered.

"Where do you sleep?" Izah'belya asked. "Come on, Lilly. You'll feel better in bed. And your bed is?"

"Ou' in the woods."

Izah'belya made a disgusted noise. "I really don't see what you see in nature. It's so…" she pulled a disgusted expression, "… wet. And organic and… ew. And there aren't any good coffee shops."

There was just a snoring from Lilly.

"You know what? I'm dragging you back to the Abyss," Izah'belya said. "I hope you're grateful. You're not as light as you look, you know."

There wasn't a response. Lilly's feet bumped along the ground as she was half-carried back towards Magda's hellish rift.

"This way, maybe you can sleep somewhere dry for once and… like, I don't know, not have to use hedgehogs for pillows or whatever happens out in nature. I've got plenty of room. And they're taking terrible care of you if no one's noticed that you're drinking cider," Izah'belya said, narrowing her eyes. "I guess I should probably leave them a note. If they even care. I'll leave it by the summoning circle. You can come back if you want, but… I hope you won't. You're not cut out for this kind of life, Lilly."

She paused, and let the dark elf be noisily sick by the edge of the portal.

"That's bad, come on. Get it all out and-"

With a flash of black lighting, the circle opened again. Wreathed in toxic vapours, a tarnished beauty rose from the depths. Face hidden behind a blank mask, a dark angel fallen from grace unfurled her black-feathered wings and drew her sword of hissing fire. "I have come," she whispered in a terrible voice.

"Not now!" Izah'belya snapped, and then her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, Garzeniel! Sorry! Caught me at a bad time! Man, what are you doing here?"

"Izzy!" the dark angel said happily, but also terribly, pushing back her mask to reveal an attractive black-skinned girl with glowing red eyes and dyed neon-blue hair. "Dire to see you! I could say the same! Whatchu doing up here?"

"Summoner," Izah'belya said, shrugging. "She's adorable. Could go far if she has a wicked teacher. Also, she's six."

"Six and already summoning a succubus?"

"I know, wrong? You?"

"Prayer from a cultist," Garzeniel said casually. She frowned. "That one, actually. And…" her face fell. "The prayer was 'God, I feel sick'." She facepalmed. "Man, slow evening or what? Didn't even read it." She shook her head. "Oh, Lilly," she said, sounding disappointed. "What's down with her?"

"Drunk. Half a jug of cider."

The dark angel's eyes widened. "What? Is she crazy? Oh, I am going to give her such a talking to! There's no way she can forward the goal of all evil if she's dead! Elves can't handle their drink at all, and she's a lightweight even by their standards!"

"I know!" Izah'belya shook her head. "She's not coping with actual, like, field work. This new overlady is pretty extreme, if you know what I mean. Lot of raw talent."

"Really?" Garzeniel said, sounding interested. "I mean, I've heard some bad stuff, but…"

"Oh, yeah. Her chief summoner has… oh man, you'll love it when I tell you the whole story, but she's got both Dread Kuudeilza and the demon-god Falufarghlesh bound. But Lilly is… yeah."

"Yeah." That was all that needed to be said. "So what now?"

"I'm taking her back to my place. Let her sleep it off, and… fuck, I don't know. This isn't the wrong place for her. Maybe I'll see if she's interested in doing some PR for me."

The dark angel nodded. "Makes a lot of sense. She does do pretty bad posters. I mean, fuckin' heaven, she makes me feel vaguely guilty about eating raw steak. For, like, half an hour, which is half an hour more than anyone else has managed."

"Wanna come back with me? We can go watch shitty plays on the mirror after I put her to bed. And get pizza."

Garzeniel grinned. "I thought you'd never ask. Just like school, eh?"

Izah'belya grinned as they stepped through the portal. "You got it."