Shiro was glad to see that the tape had disappeared from his mouth by the time they were done poofing to wherever Mephisto had wanted to take them. He'd been about five minutes away from seriously trying to kill the King of Time. He rubbed his jaw and looked around.
He, Mephisto, and Faust were now standing in a dark corner of a windowless tavern with a low, arched ceiling. The room was filled with drunken men, many of them students. Candles placed in wells along the walls gave off a dim, flickering light. Shiro narrowed his eyes. The light was flickering quite a lot, actually, more than it should without wind. He could see fuzzy shadows flitting around the candles, and something flew past his face. Reflexively, he caught it in his fingers. It was a moth the size of an apple, with a skull pattern on its wings. "Chuchi," he muttered.
"That's right~" Mephisto said. "This place has an infestation problem."
Faust regarded the moth with interest. "Is that a demonic moth? What attracts them here?"
"Dark, dank conditions, candlelight, free-flowing human merriment," Mephisto said, gesturing towards the crowd. "And this species has a particular affinity for red wine. Chuchi are weak demons that possess insects, though they can range in size. I thought it best to start our demonology lessons somewhere small."
Faust looked around with more awe than chuchi probably deserved. "Interesting. Are they dangerous?"
"Oh no, not at all," Mephisto said with a wave of his hand. "Perfectly harmless."
"Unless they lay their eggs under your skin," said Shiro. "And they're bloodsuckers. The really big ones can drain a human body in a minute."
"...Oh." Faust watched a particularly fat chuchi fly by. "There are so many of them. Why does no one else notice?"
Shiro glanced at him. He was surprised how little Faust knew despite claiming to have studied every supernatural text he could get his hands on. From what he remembered of his history classes, exorcism knowledge in Europe had been pretty scattershot before the founding of the Knights of the True Cross. So he must have gone at least five hundred years back in time. Why had the Kamikakushi Key taken him here, of all places? What exactly did it want him to learn? And more importantly, how was he going to get the key back from Mephisto? Shiro knew he needed a vacation but this was not it. There were people in the future who needed him; he had to get back. But unfortunately pick-pocketing the King of Time & Space was probably not a realistic plan of attack.
While he pondered, Mephisto said something to Faust, then sauntered off towards the nearest table of drinkers. Faust turned to Shiro. "Wagner-"
"My name's not Wagner," Shiro said, rolling his eyes. "I don't know why he told you to call me that. It's probably a reference to something only he knows about." He extended his hand. "I'm Shiro Fujimoto."
Faust looked embarrassed as he shook his hand. "Ah, I'm sorry. Shiro…" His brows furrowed. "Fu…tschi… um…"
"Close enough."
"Sorry."
"And I'm not Mephisto's servant, either."
"That I could have guessed," Faust said, with a hint of a self-satisfied smile. Uncanny how familiar it looked. "You don't exactly act like it. So if not his servant, then what are you?"
What was he indeed. Shiro searched in vain for words. Across the room, Mephisto was drilling holes into a table and magicking wine out of them. The demon grinned with amusement as the lurching students scrambled and swarmed around with their cups outstretched. Probably monologuing to himself about the base desires of man or something. All Shiro could think was that they'd never be able to scrape the stickiness off of that table.
In this place, now, Shiro was a … begrudging spectator? In the future, co-conspirator? He'd grown past 'enemies,' and 'co-workers' didn't even begin to cover it. "...A friend," he said at last, "unfortunately."
"Unfortunately."
"Yes. Being friends with him is horrible. You should get out while you still can."
"Now that I won't do. I've hardly learned anything yet. Speaking of…" Faust swatted at another chuchi. "How do you get rid of these things? All those people … it seems dangerous for so many demons to be gathered here."
"Oh, exorcizing chuchi's easy," Shiro said, "they're the lowest of the low. Just saying their death verse is usually enough to do the trick."
"Death verse?"
"Right. Every demon has one. Religious texts get to them. Here in Europe, it's Bible verses. Just say Acts 13:36 and those chuchi will explode like eggs in a microwave."
"Micro…?" Faust shook his head. "Never mind. Is that really all?"
"Sure is. Check this out," Shiro said with a grin. He turned to face the nearest swarm of moths, made the sign of the cross, and began to speak. "Now when David had served God's purpose in his own generation, he fell asleep; he was buried with his ancestors and his body decayed…"
…
The chuchi buzzed, but otherwise seemed unaffected. Shiro blinked. …What?
Faust was looking at him doubtfully. "This works, does it?"
Shiro said the verse again just to be sure. The chuchi just stared multifaceted-ly back at him and left to flit around Mephisto's magic wine table. The students had fumbled the corks and now wine was spilling freely out onto the floor. Shiro scratched his head. "It worked until just now. I don't know what the problem is. Maybe it's because I'm from—" He paused. "...not from around here."
"You're half right ~ " Mephisto poofed into existence behind Shiro's right shoulder. "Right verse, wrong edition, I'm afraid."
Shiro stared at him. He hated when Mephisto did that. The demon had no concept of personal space. "Are you suggesting that these bugs are KJV elitists? Since when?"
Mephisto lowered his voice so only Shiro could hear. "You're reciting from a version of the Good Book that doesn't exist yet. And things that don't exist can't affect things that do. That's how you get paradoxes. So for those chuchi's purposes, you've just gotten the phrasing wrong."
Shiro narrowed his eyes a little, trying to work that one out. "So what version of the Bible does exist now?"
"I hear a young man named Gutenberg is cooking up something exciting using movable type," Mephisto said. "I hope you know your Latin."
Shiro swore and turned to Faust. "I think you have to say it," he said. "I'm using the wrong book, apparently."
Faust looked towards the ceiling and 'erm'-ed. "I haven't exactly kept up with my reading on that one," he said.
"You pay attention in church?"
"I get two hours of sleep a week and they're during church."
"Well shit."
The chuchi swarming around the wine-table seemed to be multiplying exponentially, even as the students crowded around without noticing a thing. There were so many moths now that they formed a solid black sphere in the air, vibrating with insect anticipation. The wooden floor under the wine-table creaked under the weight of so many bodies.
Faust turned to Mephisto. "Alright, I'm invoking our deal. What's the correct verse?"
"Should be Acts 13:36," Mephisto said.
A chuchi smacked Faust in the face on its way to join the swarm. The wood floor was straining and groaning loudly now. "The words!" Faust said, waving his hands around his face. "What are the words?!"
Mephisto shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you there."
"What?!" Faust's fingers were making strangling motions. "Are you breaking our wager already?!"
"Oh no, of course not!" Mephisto said. "I promised I'd share with you everything I could. The issue is that I'm a demon too, remember?" He adjusted his feathered hat after a chuchi knocked into it. "Quoting scripture hurts, and I have to take care of myself right now."
"Take care of yourself? What—"
Before Faust could finish, there was a loud splintering noise from the floor beneath the wine-table. Shiro turned his gaze towards the ever-growing swarm. Mephisto had made a comment earlier … This species has an affinity for red wine. A lot of wine had come out of that table. Enough to attract something… big.
As soon as Shiro reached that thought, the floorboards exploded upwards. And, amidst the screaming of panicked students, a ten-foot-tall chuchi burst into the crowded cellar.
It had arrived on cue, at least.
Faust stared up into the huge insectoid eyes of the giant moth and felt his mind and heart racing. 'The big ones can drain a human body in a minute,' Shiro had said. The chuchi unfurled a long proboscis from its mouth, waving it in the air, searching for a victim, no doubt. Christ… He didn't want to die as bug food…!
He watched the chuchi pick up a hapless student with its proboscis and lift him, screaming, into the air. He racked his brain, trying desperately to excavate Acts 13:36 from the depths of his memory, but coming up empty. This was happening too fast. There was no way he'd be able to guess the correct phrasing before that thing slurped him up like a warm beer.
His thoughts were becoming scattered. He didn't do well in high-stress situations. He had no idea what to do. They were in the back of the cellar, that thing was between them and the stairs. There was nowhere to run…
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Shiro having a heated whispered argument at Mephisto, who looked nonplussed. Faust's eye twitched. Considering he'd sold his body for knowledge, he was getting tired of not being told things. "Care to share?!"
Shiro turned away from Mephisto with a roll of his eyes. He knelt down and pulled something from his boot. "Don't worry, egghead, I got this." He straightened and brandished the largest hunting knife Faust had ever seen. "If you don't know your verses there's always the old-fashioned way." Then he leapt towards the giant chuchi.
All Faust could do was stare in amazement. The priest moved like lightning, dodging the big moth's flailing, fuzzy legs until he was right underneath it. Then he jumped up, grabbed onto the proboscis with one hand, and used the other to slash at the chuchi's throat. Black blood sprayed and the creature let out an ear-rending scream that shook the room. It swayed from side to side and began to topple backwards, yet Shiro kept his grip. He swung his legs forward to push against the monster's thorax, then severed the proboscis from its face with a single swipe of the knife. The chuchi screeched, and Shiro, the appendage, and the unlucky student fell onto the wine-soaked floorboards with a thump.
There was a groan from the student. Shiro pushed himself up to a crouch. "Get out of here!" he said, then grabbed the student by the collar and tossed him off towards the stairs. The student ran away screaming. Shiro straightened, reached into his jacket, and withdrew a small white cylinder, which he placed between his teeth.
Behind him, the chuchi continued to shriek, its huge legs knocking plaster from the ceiling. It reared back and then began to fall forward, poised to flatten the priest. Faust was frozen with fear; all he could do was call out. "Shiro!"
Shiro glanced over at him and grinned. Just before the towering chuchi would have crushed him, he dodged towards the wall, lit the cylinder in his mouth using one of the candles, and, using the wall as a springboard, jumped into the air to land on the chuchi's back. "See?" he said to Faust, and plunged his knife into the base of the creature's head. Blood sprayed into the air and splattered on the ceiling as the chuchi let out a gurgling screech, then finally fell silent, its legs still twitching. Its smaller brethren buzzed and shrieked, then began to dissipate, fleeing the cellar. Shiro withdrew his knife, wiped the blood off his forehead, and jumped down to the floor. He drew in a breath through the cylinder and let it out in a puff of gray smoke. "Easy," he said.
Faust could only stare. His legs felt … wobbly. His shoulders trembled. "Ah… good," he said. He felt strangely light-headed. "Mephisto … catch one of the smaller moths for me, I want to… study it… later…"
His vision went fuzzy around the edges, and he felt himself falling forward. He just barely heard Shiro say "Geez, what a wimp" before he hit the floor and blacked out.
Some time later, as the sun began to rise, the three of them were back in Faust's study. Faust himself lay stretched out on a threadbare sofa, a damp cloth laid across his forehead. Mephisto sat next to him, waving a garishly pink fan over his face. Shiro leaned against the edge of Faust's desk, smoking another of the cylinders which Faust had since learned were called 'cigarettes.' "C'mon, you're fine," the priest said. "It was just a big moth. And it didn't even touch you."
Faust pouted. His nose was red and stung sharply from its recent contact with the floor. "I'm an academic," he said, a little bit sullenly. "I have a delicate constitution. And I've no stomach for-" He reflexively closed his eyes. "-that amount of blood."
"Poor thing," Mephisto cooed. He paused his fanning to fluff the pillow under Faust's head. "It must have been quite a shock for you."
Shiro rolled his eyes. "You two princesses are perfect for each other," he muttered.
Mephisto gently brushed stray strands of hair away from Faust's eyes. "That's the idea."
Faust decided at that point that it would be good to sit up. He looked past Shiro, towards the sphere of pink crystal that Mephisto had created to house one of the regular-moth-sized chuchi. Its wings had been frozen mid-flight.
Now that it was harmless, he found himself fascinated by it. He lifted the cloth from his head and staggered over to the desk. Absent-mindedly, he pushed past Shiro and reached for the loosely-bound sheaf of paper that was his current working notes, then licked the tip of his quill pen and started to write.
Chuchi. Demons possessing Insects. Average Specimen 10cm longe, 5cm cross-ways. Unusually Bigge One 3m, 1.5m.
Fatal Vers is Acts 13:36. "David enim sua generatione cum administrasset voluntati Dei dormivit et adpositus est ad patres suos et vidit corruptionem."
Blessed blades / Knifes also apparently Quite Effective.
"Hey."
Faust looked up with a start. Shiro was standing over his shoulder. "Ah, sorry."
Shiro nodded towards the notes. "Just curious. You writing a grimoire or something?"
"Sort of." Faust smoothed down the paper. "This will be far more comprehensive. I plan to create the ultimate authority on the topic of demons. I'm calling it Höllenzwang; my great work on Hell and all of its inhabitants."
Mephisto got up and sauntered over to stand by his other shoulder. "That's quite the ambition," he said. "And quite a lot of spelling errors."
"I'll have one of the undergrads edit it." Faust frowned up at him. "I'm serious, you know. This will be my magnum opus. I'll be a modern-day Prometheus, and this book will be the light of knowledge to mankind. Mark my words; someday everyone who knows anything about demons will know the name 'Johann Faust.'"
This declaration didn't have the effect he'd hoped it would. Shiro avoided his gaze, and Mephisto started laughing. Faust scowled. "I already told you I'm not joking!"
Mephisto put a hand over his mouth. "Oh, I know," he said between giggles. "So sorry! Humans are just so… interesting, is all."
Faust huffed, turning back to the chuchi. He traced over the skull-like markings on its wings with a finger. "I wish I could study more demons up close like this," he mumbled. "But not if I have to go through all that again just to catch one."
"Didn't know the modern Prometheus was such a whiner," Shiro said. "And let's not forget I did all the work."
Mephisto stroked his purple goatee. "Actually, I think I might know a way to grant your wish."
Faust looked up. "Really?"
"Sure~!" Mephisto grinned down at him. "But we'll have to make one more little trip. You might see some scary things." He raised his eyebrows. "Do you think you'll be able to handle it?"
Faust swallowed. "No."
"At least he's honest," muttered Shiro.
"But I'll go." Faust stood up and held out his hand. "If it'll help me learn more then I'll go. Even if I embarrass myself. I need to know! So let's go!"
Mephisto laughed and took his hand. "That's exactly what we love to hear! Eins, zwei, drei!"
And once again, the study vanished.
Mephisto and Faust poofed out of sight.
However.
This time, for whatever reason, they hadn't brought Shiro along.
Shiro stared at the empty desk chair for a few silent seconds. "Poor bastard," he muttered. "Mephisto's really toying with you. He spilled all that wine as bait, y'know; probably did it just to see how you'd react. And now… who knows."
He stood around in the empty study for a few moments more. Then he grimaced and ground his cigarette out on the floor. "What am I supposed to do in here all by myself?! Read these dusty-ass books? No thanks!"
He headed for the door. "Screw this. I'm gonna go out on the town and find me some good German tits!" A grin started to spread across his face. "Girls here have probably never seen a man who takes a bath more than once a year so I've got an advantage! Ha ha! Yeah!" He opened the door and stepped out onto the cobbled streets of Wittenberg. If he had to stay on this little vacation he might as well have some fun with it. "Big busty medieval peasant women, here I come!"
Faust blinked as the pink smoke around him dissipated. They were now somewhere dark, and the air carried a strong smell. It reminded Faust of the preservatives used by the professors of natural sciences, so their specimens would keep. He blinked again, looking around as his eyes slowly adjusted to the low light.
They were in some kind of thatched hut. Strange-looking plants and mushrooms hung in bunches from the ceiling, and a black cauldron bubbled with a mysterious substance over a low fire. A large magic circle had been drawn in the middle of the earthen floor, using an unsettling amount of blood. Finally, in the deep shadows at the other end of the hut, there were rows of wooden cages, with … things … in them. Things that chattered and slithered and growled. Faust swallowed. "What is this place?"
"This is the home of a witch," Mephisto said. "High in the Harz mountains, where ghouls and goblins and everything in between gather once a year on Walpurgisnacht. The barrier between Earth and Hell is thinner here. This is where to look if you want to find real magic."
Faust sniffed. Something was making his nose run and his eyes water. It was probably his fungus allergy. "So witches really exist…" he muttered. "How exactly will this help me study demons?"
Mephisto pointed to the magic circle in the middle of the room. "This particular witch is very good at summoning them. She's what we call a tamer. And she's working off of knowledge passed down to her through generations of witches. The kind of knowledge that doesn't end up in your books."
Mephisto had to have known that would catch Faust's interest. He forgot all about the oppressive atmosphere and bent down to study the magic circle. "Amazing," he breathed, wiping his nose before copying the lines and symbols into his notes. "What demon does this circle summon, then?"
Mephisto shrugged. "Don't ask me, I'm not a witch." He pointed past the cages, to a shelf filled with rolls of parchment that was just barely visible in the shadows. "But you can take a look at her library. It might teach you the right way to summon demons yourself, and then you can study them as much as you want."
Faust shot up and crossed the hut. The parchments in the box were quite old, and hadn't been taken care of properly. He gingerly unfurled the first one he could grab and squinted at it. The writing was ancient and difficult to make out, but there was a clear illustration of the same magic circle that was on the floor. "'Spill thy… blud upon this Rune,'" he read, "'and speak the words which thou art … shewn. Then shalt thou a Spirit see… alike in nature unto thee.'" He frowned. That was a bit vague. "I'll need some time to study these," he said.
Mephisto glanced towards the cauldron over the fire. "I'd recommend being quick about it. Our witch has left her stove on, so she'll be back soon. And I don't think you'd like to meet her."
"But…" Faust cast a pained glance towards the box full of parchments, then had a thought. "In that case, why don't I just take them with me? If we leave before the witch comes back, she'll never know we were here." He reached out to gather as many of the rolls into his arms as he could.
"Oh, I really wouldn't do that," Mephisto said.
But it was too late; Faust was already lifting the parchments. As he did so, a cloud of dust flew up from the box, along with… something that looked like a white spark. It zipped through the air so fast that Faust's gaze could barely follow it, and flew under the hut's front door.
Mephisto shook his head and sighed. "Of course now you've gone and done it."
"Done what? What was that?"
"A sylph. A spirit that possesses the air. And more importantly, one of the witch's familiars. It's gone to warn her of intruders."
It took Faust too long to realize that they were the intruders. "She won't be angry, will she?" he said nervously. "After all, witches and demons both serve Satan, right? You're on the same side!"
Mephisto rolled his eyes. "You humans and your generalizations. Besides, even if I did know her personally, I don't think she'd be very happy you're trying to steal her spells."
The creatures in the cages were growing louder now, making all kinds of horrible noises.
"Well… maybe she's a forgiving person," Faust said, a little desperately.
"Not likely," Mephisto said, and pointed.
Faust followed his gaze to the shadows at the back of the hut. He couldn't see anything there, but he could hear, very faintly, a voice.
"...Deine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
/ Und wiegen und tanzen und singen mich ein…"
"H- Hello?" Faust held up his hands. "Ah, I'm sorry, this is all a misunderstanding—"
There was a flash of green smoke, and suddenly three of the most beautiful women Faust had ever seen stood, barely clothed, in the center of the hut.
They had pale skin, long, flowing white hair that cascaded over their bodies like veils, and elegant features with high cheekbones and pointed ears. Their bright green eyes stared into Faust's with a beckoning desire. As one, they spoke, in voices as smooth as silk. "Come dance with us…"
Mephisto whistled. "The Erlkönig's Daughters. High-level spirits. Luckily, you're smart enough not to fall for such an obvious—" He looked to his right, but Faust wasn't there.
He was, in fact, already stumbling towards the waiting embrace of the women, a bright red blush all over his face and a dazed look in his eyes. "Of course I'll dance with boobs- you," he mumbled. "Err, you and your boobs are… really beautiful…"
The women giggled, with voices like tinkling bells. They reached out their hands to Faust. "Come with us!"
Mephisto's eye twitched. "Well, I guess we know what his weakness is," he muttered. "Looks like I'll have to intervene."
"Come with us," the women said again. Faust was completely entranced. His desire was driving him into their embrace. He stepped forward, and reached out his hand. Their fingertips were nearly touching now, and his head started to spin. His breathing was getting shallow. All of a sudden, he felt… cold.
"Join us," the women said. The light in their eyes had changed. "Join us in Father's kingdom… forever…!"
"Eins, zwei, drei!"
The women froze, their eyes widening. "You are…!"
Mephisto pointed a finger towards the darkness at the back of the hut, closing one eye to aim. "Sticky Zwetschgenknödel!"
Comically-huge plum dumplings began to fall from the ceiling and pile around a figure at the back of the hut. The figure cried out, and the three women disappeared into green smoke.
Faust blinked, slowly feeling the warmth return to his body. "What… What was…?"
"No time to chat, I'm afraid," Mephisto said. Surprisingly, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. "I can only hold her for so long."
Faust glanced back towards the figure, now struggling neck-deep in doughy dumplings. It was a woman with wild black hair and a dirty, squarish face. She glared at him. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?!"
Faust swallowed. "A- Actually, we were just leaving—"
The witch strained to keep her head free. "And why is the King of Time with you?!"
"Time to go," Mephisto said, and grabbed Faust's hand. His grip this time was forceful. "Eins–"
"Wait!" Faust protested, straining to look back at the witch. "What do you mean by—"
"Zwei—"
"—King of Time?!"
"Drei!"
Mephisto snapped his fingers.
They were back in Faust's study.
Mephisto released his grip, and Faust stumbled away from him. His back pressed against a stack of books, and he stood there, catching his breath for several silent seconds, staring at Mephisto. They held each other's gazes for what felt like a long time. Finally, Faust spoke. "Who… No. What are you, really?"
Mephisto opened his mouth to reply, a faint grin starting to form on his lips.
Then he hacked up a small fountain of blood and collapsed on the floor.
Author's Note: Aaaaand that was chapter two! That's probably the most times I've ever used the word 'proboscis,' lol.
Anyways thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you want to!
