Chapter 4

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

A roaring shriek rattled the windows of the mansion. A lesser demon servant dared a peek into the master bedroom and received a spiked stone vase to the face for his indiscretion.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING CRUCIFY THAT WHINY OLD SODOMITE FART AND HIS FRIGID SUPERCILIOUS PIGEON!!”

A tall and lanky, pale-skinned girl strode aggressively out of the room, wearing nothing but a translucent nightgown and a furious expression. Broad stag horns protruded from her dark misty purple hair. Her long, bone-white fingers tapered off into needle-like points. Dark, tired circles underlined her eyes that were like windows into a violet night sky speckled with burning stars. Currently, these stars blazed with fury, making the devil appear as if she were about to burst into flames from the inside out.

“I’M GOING TO FLAY THEM ALIVE AND FEED THEM THEIR OWN SKIN!! YEARS OF PLANNING, FUCKED!! UTTERLY FUCKED!!!” Screaming, she grabbed another nearby vase off a pedestal and flung it across the hallway, where it shattered against the wall. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

“M-M-M-Mistress?” A small demon called out fearfully.

“WHAT?!” The devil spun around. Her sharp fingers stabbed the imp through the stomach, coming cleanly out their back. The little creature screamed, whimpered and flailed, but she tightened her grip and lifted them off the floor to glare holes into their beady little black eyes. Their faces were almost touching. “I asked, ‘what?’” she breathed out, her voice dangerously controlled.

“You-You-Your sister is c-c-calling, M-Mistress.”

“My sister?” She shook the imp angrily. “My sister?! Which one, you useless, incompetent, piteous scum?! Do I need to specify every little thing?!”

“El-ri-i-i-i-i-ne-ri-ris!”

“Tsk. That haughty slut.” The incensed she-devil threw the screaming imp through the window. The noise of shattering glass was followed by a long howl as the demon fell to certain death, the manor standing high on an isolated cliff. She did not care. The lesser bugger would be back, for death was but a mild inconvenience in Upper Tartarus. It would not make for a very good pit of eternal suffering otherwise.

Begrudgingly, she made her way to a nearby office. Although she had no desire to speak to Elrinerris, dealing with her siblings was rarely a matter of willingness. “Fucking old ruin. This is all your fault.” She sat on a plush cushioned seat behind a massive but elegant obsidian desk. Opposite her on the wall hung a large mirror. Instead of her reflection, it showed only swirling mist.

The mist dissipated with a gesture from her, revealing another room and another devil.

“Ah! Darling little sister! What took you so long?” The voice echoed loudly through the office, sounding like a posh old aristocrat who had spent a lifetime bathing her vocal cords in tobacco smoke.

The best way to picture Elrinerris was to imagine what a particularly horny and depraved teen tripping on drugs would commit to paper if asked to draw a whore. Her proportions went beyond the obscene; her body dripped with bodily fluids; and her hornet-stung, cock-sucking lips were forever hooked in a pleasant smile that looked fake as shit even by devil standards.

The harness of studded leather she wore only served to emphasise her grotesque curves and nothing else—certainly not to cover her body. She sat on a pile of damned souls, twisted and strapped together in the rough shape of a throne. The younger sister had no opinion on the gaudiness of the spectral furniture, but she privately thought it could not be comfortable to sit on.

“I have my own matters, sister. What do you want?”

Elrinerris’ hollow smile showed more teeth up and down. It was the closest her stiff face could move to a sneer. “I see you’re a rude little shit as always. Someone ought to teach you some manners someday.”

“What do you want?”

The sybaritic devil was pissed to have her taunt so blatantly ignored, but she tried to pass it off with a roll of her dead eyes. “You’re such a bore. Alright. I need another dream delivered to that dear Baron Orswoods, make sure it involves his youngest daughter.”

“I’m sure you could manage that on your own.”

“Oh, of course, darling.” Elrinerris’ perma-smile widened into a condescending rictus. “But I have better uses of my time. Besides, I don’t have your wonderful artistic flair. I suppose it’s in the blood. Anyway, if you’d rather I take my business elsewhere…”

“I’ll do it. Same tariff as usual.”

“Of course, dearie. I’ll have the souls sent your way. That’s a deal then.”

“Deal.” The younger devil cut off the communication before her sister could cast more barely veiled insults at her. “Bitch.”

It infuriated her to bow down to that hateful trollop, but it was the simple truth she could not afford to turn her siblings down. Worse, they knew it too. Most of them solely made use of her services to rub in her face her dependency on their hand-me-downs.

Among them, she really did not want to give that satisfaction to that foppish tart, Elrinerris. Nevertheless, a deal was a deal. She also had her own pride. She would concoct a dream for the baron that would make him incapable to even stand in the same room as his daughter without a painful hard-on. At least, it would bring her the pleasure of a job well done—even if none of the profit.

Ironically, this unpleasant conversation with her sister had helped calm her down. It reminded her why she had risked so much with her plan and what was at stake. She was simply not going to let go of her prize without a fight. She might be one of the weakest of Lust’s offspring, but she had her own means at her disposal.

She decided to start on the baron job right away. As long as no one else called, it would free up the rest of her day, and she had several urgent visits to make.

* * *

This is a bad idea. This is such a bad idea.

The wheels of the overloaded carriage creaked and squealed on the forest road, accompanied by the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. The breeze whistled in the treetops. The morning sun played through the needles of the towering ancient pines and painted the shaded ground with fluttering motes of light. Birds sang in the branches, uncaring about the grim convoy in their midst.

Also uncaring about the corpses in the back of the wagon was the demon blithely napping behind the driver seat. Her faint snoring at times lulled Sophia into a misleading sense of tranquillity and at times grated on her nerves like a blunt saw.

This is such a very, very bad idea. This had been her litany for the past several hours. The priestess really did not want to bring Sam back to the Temple. Sure! Let’s bring the indestructible instrument of sin right into the heart of our faith! What could go wrong? What could go wrong?! Her thoughts flirted dangerously with hysteria. Sigh. What are you doing, Sophia?

But, truly, what choice did she have? The demon was not leaving on her own. Sophia certainly had no way of forcing her; and regardless, allowing the dangerous creature to wander towards Fair Isle Landing was out of the question. The priestess might feel some gratitude to the demon for saving her life and Francis’, but she did not trust her.

This entire situation was too suspicious. Spawns of Tartarus simply did not pop up on a divinely blessed island for no reason. Neither did bandits, for that matter. The goddess’ protection should have prevented all of this. Something sinister was definitely afoot. Sophia could only hope no calamity had befallen her goddess. The mere thought of something happening to her was enough to push the exhausted priestess to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The trip from Fair Isle Landing usually took two days, including a night at a small halfway lodge. It was unmanned, but the Temple attendants kept it stocked with dried food and firewood. Sophia had ignored the cabin entirely and driven right through the night. She was nearing her limit, both mental and physical. Her bloodshot eyes barely dared to blink while surveying the peaceful woods. Her imagination placed burning men in every shadow, just waiting for her to look away to jump out and shoot black flames at her. She had shrieked like a banshee when a doe suddenly leapt across the road. Sam had barely stirred despite the noise.

The closer they got to the temple, the taller the trees became. These giant pines were close to a thousand years old, thick and towering. Their spaced-out trunks shot upwards to the heavens like the pillars of a living cathedral, of which their evergreen canopy would be the vault. This sight usually filled Sophia with comfort and awe. Today, their abnormal size oppressed her. Never before had she felt so small and insignificant.

At long last, the white spires of the temple of Rachiel became visible among the trees. Sophia nearly broke down crying. She whipped the reins, her compassion for the tired and foaming-at-the-mouth draft horse overwhelmed by her urge to reach the safety of her home’s walls.

She yelped when Sam’s head appeared next to her. The demon looked focused on the path ahead. Her amber eyes narrowed as she sniffed the air. “Something’s coming.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Sam tilted her head. “Like what?”

“Like some monster is about to jump out and eat us!”

“Nah… If something attacks, I’m the one who’s eating it.” She said that with such a shit-eating grin, Sophia felt a sudden urge to punch the demon in the face. She might have, too, if not for the fear the action could be suicidal. Sam continued, “It’s something small. I hear hooves. Five… Six horses.”

“They probably saw us and sent guards.” Sophia squinted, trying to see whatever it was the demon was hearing. Please let it be guards.

“So, to make sure, I’m… not supposed to eat them.”

“NO!! I mean, yes! I mean… don’t eat them!”

“Alright. Alright. Just making sure.” She fell briefly quiet. “What about the horses?”

Sophia slowly turned to glare at Sam; then she spotted the mirth sparkling in the demon’s amber eyes. Is that numbskull joking?! She felt something snap.

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

If anything, her unrealistic threat only made the demon’s grin wider.

Sophia was saved from more ridiculousness by the riders coming into view. Thankfully for sanity, her prayer had been heard and these were the Temple guards, their green and white tabards easily recognisable even at a distance. She urged the horse faster, eager to meet up with the men. Next to her, Sam tensed up.

“Stop that,” Sophia hissed.

“Stop what?”

“You’re tensing up. It’s stressing me out. What? You’re expecting a fight or something? Let me make this clear. I don’t want you fighting or hurting anyone who’s part of the Temple, do you hear me?” Sophia wondered where this sudden bout of courage came from, for her to dare ordering the demon around.

“Sorry. I’ve just never met so many people before. I’m nervous.”

Sophia shot her a weird glance. “There were more bandits yesterday.”

“That was different.”

“How so?” Sophia asked. To her surprise, she felt genuinely curious. What made a group of strangers differ from another group of strangers in the mind of an incarnation of sin?

The answer she got made her wish she had never asked.

“I didn’t really think about it. I just followed the scent of blood… I guess I was too hungry to feel nervous? I hadn’t had a good meal in hours. When do we eat, by the way? I’m starving.” Sam’s stomach rumbled loudly as if in agreement, and Sophia’s face turned an unhealthy shade of curdled milk.

She abruptly turned back forwards, the reality of the situation crashing back on her. She was not making friendly banter with a random acquaintance. This was an infernal being, a servant of Sin, a creature of Evil—the Enemy. Not even a day before, Sophia had witnessed this monster effortlessly butcher more than twenty armed men—including a powerful mage—and then greedily devour their still-warm corpses. Her wagon was full of dead bodies, and she was about to break the news to at least six men that their colleagues and friends had been killed.

She barely had time to compose herself before the guards reached them, stopping in front of her carriage which she slowed to a halt. Sophia exhaled in relief when spotted a large square beard among the riders. “Janik, thank goddess.”

The bearded man was walking his horse closer. “What is going on, my lady? We weren’t expecting you before this evening. Where is your escort?” His piercing brown eyes scanned the surroundings warily even as he spoke, never resting. Janik was the head of the small garrison of the Fair Isle Temple, and he took his job very seriously. He was a stern, often frustratingly uncompromising man, having done a short stint in the mainland army in his youth. However, that made him exactly the kind of pragmatic person Sophia needed right now.

“There was an ambush, Janik. A band of twenty-five men attacked us half a day out of Fair Isle Landing.” That got his immediate undivided attention.

Sophia recounted the attack in succinct words, keeping her voice bland. She had to push down her emotions. Otherwise, she knew she would break down crying. Thankfully, there was not a whole lot to say. The ambush had happened so fast, and she omitted the parts that involved any demon or cursed fire. Soon, she concluded with a wave towards Sam, “They would have taken me if this woman hadn’t stepped in.”

Janik gave the tall black woman a good look. “She defeated twenty men by herself?” A credit to his professionalism, he managed to almost keep the disbelief out of his voice—almost.

Sophia understood his scepticism. Human Sam might still have looked like she could wrestle a bear and win, but that did not necessarily make her impervious to swords and other pointy murder tools. Her timely appearance to save the future high priestess right in the nick of time was highly suspicious as well.

With that said, revealing the demon’s nature to men who would undoubtedly try to slay her on the spot sounded to Sophia like a recipe for total disaster—at least until Sophia could petition her goddess for a solution to this mess. “She’s a powerful fire mage,” she improvised in the way of explanation. It was not even a lie, technically. She had witnessed Sam magically extinguish the bandit’s black flames before they could spread to the rest of the forest.

Janik’s eyebrow raised a notch higher. “Is she, now?” He made a point of again looking Sam up and down.

“…Yes?” Sophia felt sweat start to pearl on her face. Ah, yes. Certainly, the three-hundred-pound black woman clad in a fur coat and leathers so roughly tanned they might as well have been pelts somewhat lacked the scholarly air that came with a life of studying magic to the level of proficiency needed to take out a party of twenty-five highwaymen. Honestly, she looks more the type to hit a man on the head with a club, drag his unconscious body in a cave, and consider that a wedding.

Feeling like the situation was slipping away from her, Sophia shot a pleading glance at the demon. “Throw me a bone here, you cavewoman! Do you think it’ll be easier for you to infiltrate the Temple if you slaughter the guards here?!” her eyes seemed to say. At least, she had to assume that was the demon’s game. Otherwise, this whole situation would be a vast, very implausible coincidence, and Sophia had never been a betting woman.

The priestess’ current plan was to minimise casualties until they entered the Temple. Once inside the goddess’ stronghold, it would be a simple matter for Her Gloriousness Rachiel to smite the demon back to Tartarus—probably. Hopefully, that works out.

Sam had been silent the entire conversation, her stare moving between Sophia and Janik with almost unsettling intensity. She acted startled when she was suddenly included in the exchange. At Sophia’s insistent nodding, the demon turned to Janik. She licked her lips, rubbed her forehead, clearly nervous, and hesitantly said, “Ah, yes… I’m good with fire.”

She looked back to Sophia, as if seeking the priestess’ approval—only to be met with the wide-eyed, bloodshot glare of a tea kettle nearing its boiling point. She switched back to the guard. “Ah… err… like this?” She raised a hand, and everyone jerked in surprise when her entire forearm suddenly burst ablaze. The wild orange flames radiated more heat than seemed possible, and Sophia could almost feel the moisture evaporating from her face.

Self-conscious about the stares, Sam extinguished her arm and shuffled back deeper into her fur coat. Needless to say, her attempt at making herself smaller worked as well as expected. Janik, now looking intrigued, stroked his beard pensively. “Mmmh… I’ve heard of a race of ogres in the East of Koatia who have a natural ability with fire. Do you perhaps have some ancestry with them?”

“Janik! That’s just not something you ask!” Recovering from her surprise, Sophia leapt at the chance to cut that line of questioning short.

The guard blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my lady. That was out of line, I deeply apologise,” he added towards Sam.

“No. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” The demon grinned at the man, but then she frowned and turned to Sophia. “Do I not look human?”

The priestess returned a strained smile. “You’re a bit on the big side, and your skin is darker than most. But you’re fine, don’t worry,” she tried to fast defuse the subject. Before Sam could add anything else, she addressed Janik. “Francis survived thanks to her intervention. He was grievously wounded, but I managed to stabilise him. He’s resting in the back of the carriage.” She hesitated then continued in a softer voice, “We brought back the bodies of the others.”

That brought the sombre mood right back.

“I see. Thank you for them,” Janik said solemnly. His lips were drawn in a thin line, and his beard quivered, the only signs he was affected at all. His eyes flickered back to Sam, who stared back at him guilelessly. Sophia could see the man still had questions, but he held them in. Instead, he bowed his head to the demon. “And thank you, ma’am, for saving our Lady Sophia. Every one of us would have been devastated had something happen to her. I must again apologise for my appalling behaviour just now.”

“It was no big deal.” The demon shrugged. “I would have been sad too, if she died. Sophia’s a nice woman.”

Janik’s eyebrow arched up. “Indeed…” He turned away and gave short, sharp orders to the five other guards who sat aghast in their saddles. At his words, they snapped out of it. One spun his horse around and headed back for the temple at full gallop. The others fanned protectively around the wagon. Sophia whipped the reins, and the draft horse neighed tiredly before the carriage started forwards at a crawl.

As if sensing the animal’s distress, Sam suddenly decided to disembark and walk, taking her huge backpack with her. A few of the guards looked uncomfortable, seeing as she stood at shoulder height with them even while they sat on horseback. But the wagon immediately picked up speed.

Like this, the last stretch of this disastrous trip passed in tensed and gloomy silence—only occasionally broken by the growls of Sam’s stomach.

* * * * *