Seraphs

  “Cleanse her,” I said a third time. “Transform her and bind the Darkness.” With my left hand I pressed the cross into her flesh. The crucifix sizzled, popped and almost . . . reached . . . for her. Before my horrified eyes the amber melted and burned into her face. Shocked, I jerked my hand away, trying to pull the cross off her. The crucifix didn’t waver, remaining firmly planted, deep as bone in her flesh. Black smoke rose from her skin and muscle and skull, a brand, like the brands planted by the kirk.

  Jane howled, the sound of a full-grown boar being torn apart by wolves. Her skin rippled, the flesh mottled with Darkness, purpling and blackening like deep bruises. A pustule rose on her forehead and erupted, spilling yellow pus. Instantly, and way too late to do anything about it, I realized what I had in the circle with me, taped to the chair. Not a succubus inside a woman, but a succubus that had possessed, eaten, and replaced a woman. Jane’s skin peeled back in little rips of flesh. Abscesses formed and burst on her chin, jaw, shoulders, and chest. Her clothes stretched as her musculature and skeleton rearranged.

  My stomach turned over with a sickening lurch. “Yuck,” I murmured. I backed away, leaving the gold chain dangling against the ruined skin.

  The succubus’ teeth elongated. Its breasts grew and formed points at the tips like little claws. Wrath of Angels. This wasn’t just any old textbook succubus. This was a big-ass succubus. The mama of all succubi. Seraph stones. If it got loose from the duct tape, I was worse than toast. I was fried, fricasseed, and served up as an entrée. A laugh tittered in my throat. I was betting my life on duct tape.

  “My master will come,” it said, spitting acid. A droplet landed on the arm of my dobok and burned, the leather melting around it before hardening to protect my skin. It smiled at me through pointed teeth, incisors and canines like those of a small carnivore, which, of course, it was, if you consider that the flesh it ate was human male, starting with the private parts.

  The succubus’ head was still changing, forming a blunt snout. Its hands were clawed, talons tipped with bright red and orange striped nail polish that had been applied while in human form. The polish cracked and rippled as the beast changed. Red polish on the long, razor-sharp nails of her toes followed suit, drawing to the pointed tips. Tres chic, in a ruination of Darkness kind of way, I thought, still near hysteria. Its skin, where it showed through the torn clothing, was scaled and mottled. Jane was literally enough to scare a man to death, should it transform in the act of sex. “My master will come,” it hissed again, writhing its head as if to get away from the cross that still burned into its flesh. “He will take me back.”

  That stopped me. Take it back? From what? From me? I stared at the cross charred into its cheek. Melted in. Branded. I remembered the words I had used asking the Most High and his servant Mutuol to lend a hand. Cleanse her. Transform her and bind the Darkness. This thing couldn’t be cleansed. It wasn’t human, and only humans could be redeemed. But it could be cleansed of its human guise, transformed to its natural structure. And it could be bound. And I hadn’t said what I wanted it bound to.

  Feathers and fire. Had I bound the succubus to me? Oh, seraph stones. Somebody up there had a weird sense of humor.

  That single thought brought me up short. Someone had heard my prayer. Mutuol? The Most High? And he—whoever he was—had done as I asked.

  A shiver of fear slithered under my skin. The succubus laughed, thinking I was afraid of it. But I was a whole lot more afraid of holy things than of evil. To wipe the smirk off its face, I hit Jane with the hilt of the knife again. This time, black blood flew, sizzling when it splatted against the charmed circle. I had bound a succubus to me. Crack the Stone of Ages.

  The succubus’ eyes changed slowly as understanding came to it. “You aren’t afraid of me,” it said. When I didn’t answer, it said, “You aren’t afraid of my master.” It cocked its head, looking particularly reptilian. “What do you want?”

  The question thawed me from where I was standing, frozen at the sight of what I had done. What did I want, now that I couldn’t have what I had intended? Ciana safe. The Stanhopes safe. The town safe. Me safe and able to stay in Mineral City. For starters. I had intended to dis-possess Jane and then question her about what she knew of Forcas’ plans. Could I still question this thing? Being bound, it had to speak the truth, or as much of the truth as it had. Some said pride was the first weakness of any Darkness. Pride had caused the fall of Lucifer and his followers. Pride could be used against them. What came out of my mouth had nothing to do with my thoughts. “I’ve never seen or heard of one like you.”

  The succubus’ pupils were slit, goat-eye irises a coppery yellow, like stained sheets flecked with the brown of old blood. “I am the result of a triple mating between a Power, an unwilling mage, and a blood-demon drunk on Stanhope blood and your blood.”

  As a child, I had been underground, alone and afraid. Later, I had seen unwilling female mages, rescued from the Trine. If mages had been kept captive long enough to birth a litter, their minds might—would—be gone. And then I caught the timeline. Made of my blood? With that, I calculated its age at less than a month. How fast did these things mature? It acted like a spoiled, rotten child, bragging and testing me. Great. I was stuck in a conjuring circle with a teenaged, power-drunk Darkness. “What is your master?”

  “I am a new being,” it said, “created by a Power. A Principality. He desires you.” It smiled. It was a really nasty smile. I couldn’t help my reaction. Seeing me shudder, the beast slit its eyes, baring its teeth. “You fear. This is good that you fear me. I am unique, one not seen since the fall of man. I am a succubus queen.”

  I remembered my research into the obscure words uttered by Malashe-el when I had him trapped at my spring. And last night he reappeared with an incubus and this thing. And now I had it captured. No big guess that I was being led by the nose. “What else are you?”

  “I am the mother of those you killed.” When I didn’t react, it lifted its chin. It licked its lips, tongue tar black and mucoid. “I am the mother of many larvae,” it bragged. “Of thousands of eggs. My children will begin to hatch at dawn, and this batch will be even more powerful than I. My children will destroy your world and I will sit beside my master in a Realm of the Dark.” Yep. Teenaged hubris. Just my luck.

  But, even still, that sounded bad. Seraphs lived at Realms of Light. Sounded as if this Darkness’ daddy had visions of grandeur. “What sins have you committed?”

  “Sins are for humans and their children. We do what we will.”

  Okay. Big help there. How could I use this accidental bonding without being used by whatever sent it? More importantly, how could I survive an encounter with a beast that was a whole lot more powerful and a whole lot less mature than anticipated? Duct tape. Could I be any more stupid? I watched as it sat there, waiting. And then I realized that I hadn’t asked a specific question. It couldn’t lie to a direct question, but if it could find a way to misdirect, it would. So sue me. I had never cross-examined a big bad evil before. I was flying by the seat of my pants again. Which was not smart, no way. “What have you willed?”

  It smiled at me, settling deeper into the chair. The motion was slow and languorous. Had it still been in human form, it would have been a sensual flex. “Much. I have seduced humans, including the female whose likeness I chose. And I ate them. They were tasty.”

  “I thought succubi were only interested in males.” How could I use this? How? I had a strip of cloth marked with the blood of the daywalker. In the jar beside it was the blood of another being, a spelled human warrior for Darkness. Could I use them?

  “The females were interesting. I liked the form of one of them. Men liked her form. It was pleasurable and necessary.”

  “Can you transmogrify?” I asked, surprised. Only seraphs should be able to do that, to actually alter shape and appearance at will. But this was a queen. She, not it.

  “One form only,” she said sullenly, her moods whip-fast. “The res
t is illusion. But through my children we will regain our lost gifts.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What have you willed in regards to me?”

  Her eyes narrowed and I knew she didn’t want to answer. The cross in her cheek quivered as she tried to contract the cheek muscle away from it. A long moment passed and I said nothing, waiting. If she were truly bound to me, she had to answer. But a better question might hurry things along. “What did your master tell you to do about me?”

  Her lips peeled back, exposing teeth designed for tearing meat. “To search for you, as once we searched for the wheels. They were close. My master could smell them but not see them, sense them, but not touch them. Now they are gone, and you reek of their scent. When your scent came on the wind, he set traps for you.”

  When your scent came on the wind. When I broke the prime? Was that the first time the evil on the Trine had sensed me? “You have other mages. Why do you want me?”

  She rolled her shoulders, pulling at the duct tape. The chair legs rattled on the floor. “You are different,” she said, the words unwilling.

  That didn’t help. I didn’t know what questions to ask, yet I had to find a way to encourage her to talk. Pride had worked once. “Better?” I asked, raising my head, exposing my throat and the amulets that hung there. “Do you mean that I am better than you?”

  “No female is better than I,” she said, a line of spittle sliding down her jaw.

  Major yucks. This thing had been created to seduce, then eat its prey, but without its glamour or a body to inhabit, it would scare a man to death long before the first bite. “I’m better,” I said. “Much better than you.”

  It spat at me, a sizzling spatter, saying, “My master will take you. You will call the wheels. He will mate with me, and then nothing in heaven or earth shall be denied us.”

  Ahhh. I socked the succubus with the ceremonial hilt. Really hard. Her head rocked back. So I hit her again. Several times. When she was lolling with pain, I rebound her mouth with the gag, taping it in place. With the tape, I wrapped the chair legs and pressed them to the floor, taping her toes to the tile too. By the time I was finished, I was breathing hard and had worked up a sweat. I was nauseated. The stink of sulfur, acid, and dead flowers was really vile. Sitting on the floor at Jane’s feet, I pulled on the duct tape. It held. No wonder the Pre-Aps liked it so much. This stuff could do anything.

  I had put both clean and used salt in the circle with me. With the clean salt, I made a third ring inside the first two, stepped outside the circle, and closed it. I thumbed the amulet that held a charmed circle and one flared into being, a smaller dome, created just for the succubus. She raised her head and tried to focus on me, snarling. I had hoped she would be out longer than that. If she figured out how to get the chair or her feet loose and break the circle, that would be dangerous. Deadly dangerous.

  With a quick finger, I broke the privacy shield and the outer charmed circle with a soft pop. The candle flames flared and went out with the energy surge. Audric was on the couch, blades at his feet, watching me with pursed lips. “What is that thing?” he asked.

  I told him what she had said and that I had accidentally bound her to me. Audric snorted as if that was funny. “Invasion of the body snatchers,” he said. Which made no sense at all. He shook his head, looking down at his hands.

  “Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Will you watch her? I don’t have time to, now.” The next words shocked me, coming from my mouth even as the thought formed. “I have to go to the Trine.” Feathers and fire. Saints’ balls. My breathing sped up. I was going to the Trine?

  He stared at the succubus rather than at me. “The Trine. Alone. Again.”

  Though I was sweating from the confrontation with the succubus, I shivered at his words. I had promised, never again. Never underground. No. Never, never, never. But did I have a choice? Fear and sorrow twisted together in my guts. I didn’t want to do this.

  “The town can gather troops. Or you and this unworthy champard can kill that thing and go together.” His face was blank, and I knew I had hurt him. I was going to war. And I was leaving my champard behind. And he wasn’t unworthy, which he knew when his feelings weren’t all hurt.

  Again, words fell fully formed from my mouth, as if I had thought it all out. As if I had an answer. As if I wasn’t terrified. “They’ll dither around for days before deciding to war, even after the attack on the town. A fast incursion by a small group, or one person working alone, has a better chance. But if we kill this thing, its master might know it and be waiting for us. I need my champard to guard Jane. Or are you going to talk me to death?”

  “Guard,” he said. “Got nothing better to do.”

  As if I stood outside myself, I watched as I tucked the stone jar and strip of cloth with the daywalker’s blood into a canvas bag. Piled in a selection of stones, a tiny silver serving tray, my ceremonial knife, a candle, and slung the bag over my shoulder. “If Thadd comes by, you can tell him what happened. And you can use this if that thing gets loose.” I poured clean salt into the silver bowl and placed it by Audric, the water inside sloshing gently.

  “Salt water? What good will that do?”

  I dropped in a tiny shard of the amethyst. It was even more drained than before, scarcely glowing as it tinked to the bottom and rested on the layer of slowly dissolving salt. “When she gets out, she’ll want to restore the illusion of her beauty, and for that she needs meat. A lot of meat. Throw the salt water on her. Wet her down good. I think it’ll send her screaming away without eating you or the rest of the town for lunch.”

  “That would be nice. I’d like to live long enough for the holy war that’s about to break out here,” he said, softly scornful, and clearly still mad at me. “That would give me a chance to watch all the humans I love die while I’m tied to the side of a winged-warrior.”

  The words dripped with sarcasm, self-pity, and quiet horror. The sarcasm brought me back to myself. I was going up the Trine. I really was. “Yes,” he finished, “that sounds like a fine plan. Your champard is awed.”

  “Master of understatement,” I said, my heart hurting for him. But I wouldn’t offer sympathy. I collected bottles of springwater and raisins. Trail food. “I like that in a man.”

  “I’m not a man.”

  “Nope. Not a human. Not a mage. Have you decided what you will be yet?”

  Audric tilted his head, jaw tight. “I’m not interested in being psychoanalyzed.”

  “Tough. I’m not interested in being a shrink to a pissed-off, whiny mule, either.”

  His eyes blazed, fingers twitching as if reaching for his weapons.

  I laughed, knowing it was cruel, but needing to say this. Maybe say it before I died. “Your life has changed. Okay. Got that. Big deal. You wanted to bind yourself to a free mage; instead you got bound to a battle-seraph, one of the most powerful winged-warriors, a relationship that most of your kind drool over. So you get to draw blood and kick Darkness’ ass. Blood, guts and glory, huzzah. You get to stand at the side of the High Host. You didn’t want it, but that’s what you got. It’s what your kind do. Deal with it.” I thought he might jump up and pound me to a pulp. I was almost disappointed when he didn’t. I picked up the walking stick and twirled it once, hearing the whistle of the motion.

  “While I’m being catty I’ll ask you a couple of questions. Maybe you’re man enough to answer, maybe not.” Audric gripped the hilt of his sword until the knuckles showed beneath his dark skin. I adjusted three throwing knives in the proper loops of my dobok while he struggled with my impertinence. When it looked like he had mastered his reaction and wouldn’t cut me to ribbons, I said, “How long did it take you to find Sugar Grove?”

  Whatever he had expected me to ask, it hadn’t been that. “Four summers.”

  “What brought you the most glory, finding the town or dead-mining it?”

  “Finding it,” he said, half unwillingly.

  “And how many towns are left to be discovered?”


  He looked away when he answered. “According to my Pre-Ap maps, dozens were left empty by the plagues, and are now lost beneath the ice caps. A few others were destroyed by war and buried by landslides.”

  “And how many dead-miners have ever discovered more than one town?”

  Audric’s eyes pierced me, his mouth turned down. “None. It has never been done.”

  “You would be the first.” Audric stared. I double-checked the placement of three vials of baptismal water, tugging to make sure they would stay in place, yet pop off easily as needed, not that I was convinced they would work against Darkness. I had yet to see proof. “A dead-miner with two towns to his credit. Glory, a name for yourself that would survive until the end finally comes. You can’t, however, discover a second town if you’re excavating a hole in the ice. But if you sold your claim you could research all winter and spend the summer months looking. And you would only have to leave Mineral City for three months a year. You could have a home. A real one. It’s just a thought.”

  I walked to the back window and hung a white cloth where it could be seen from outside. “Someone from the EIH will be coming. Maybe Eli. You can tell them where I’ll be. Maybe they’ll feel like helping.”

  My heart in my throat, I said, “If I survive, I’ll be back before dark tomorrow.” With those words, I grabbed up my insulated leather cloak, food, a small bag I had packed for emergencies, and swung out the door and down the stairs to the stockroom for the real supplies. Minutes later, I had Homer saddled and bridled and was leading him out of the stable and up the Trine, my cloak and the bags filled with necessities tied to the saddle skirt.

  My breath came tight in my chest. My body was rigid with cold and fear, my hands too firm on Homer’s reins. Picking up my agitation, he tossed his head and rolled an eye back at me. “Sorry,” I said, patting his big shoulder and easing the pressure on the reins. I was going up the Trine again. I was going into the pit of Darkness. A hellhole. Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t want to do this. I really, really, really didn’t want to do this. Stupid, stupid, stupid, my brain shouted at me.