A spear of ice impaled a demon’s torso. Lord Winter flapped his wings once. He sent a storm of ice shards downrange like so many pieces of glass. The giant stomping around shielded its face. Ice tore the demon’s armor to ribbons, revealing thick gray skin underneath. The woman it was trying to eat fled.

“Scott,” Lord Winter roared. “Where are you?”

The giant broke off the largest pieces of ice. It gave up on the rest and rushed Winter, who leapt aloft.

“Take ‘em down,” someone yelled. “Oo-rah?”

“Oo-RAH.” A line of uniformed boys charged out the smoke, screaming bloody murder. They riddled the giant with bullets. He kept moving long after his brain shut down, as his organs refused to die.

Winter saw the extra copies of organs jockeying for position under the giant’s skin. The brain kept trying to heal, but the boys did not stop. Bullets tore through its body. The giant took forever to die. Winter threw a spear. The ice impaled the giant’s ankle and part of the ground behind it. Now tethered, the danger to the boys was lessened.

Winter flapped his wings. He flew over the house to land on the roof. The backyard was a warzone. Behind the house sat a simple patio with a grill, firepit, and some chairs. Beyond it, an overgrown alchemical garden encircled the house on three sides. Behind the garden lay the acres of sweetcorn, enhanced by magic for growth, height, yield, and taste. Now, most of the corn was on fire. Craters pitted the patio like a giant’s pockmarked face, but the garden lay untouched.

Through the smoke, Winter saw the gardener waiting. It was the farmer’s wife, Winter’s estranged sister, Diana. She stood in the middle of her garden, a trowel in one hand and a hoe in the other. Flightless demons approached with poisoned daggers. They trampled the beautiful shrubs. They crushed the mushrooms. They walked under the alien trees, uncaring.

Had they been more experienced, perhaps they would have seen how the garden was less like a manicured paradise and more like a carnivorous, overgrown jungle threatening to swallow the entire house. Perhaps the demons would have noticed how the back side of the house, the most important and direct way to their mark, seemed to be the least defended. Fortunately, Lord Winter had hired the cheapest, lowest-level mercenaries available.

Diana chanted as she twirled her hoe with one hand. The garden came to life. Diana’s smile was wolfish, showing more sharp teeth than any human could have. Trees ripped free of the ground on two legs. Massive branches become bludgeons. Mushrooms released clouds of poisonous spores. Vines and thorny plants dragged the mercenaries into the earth. Armies of ants and insects covered them like a blanket, biting, stinging, or chewing. The demons screamed. Winter’s skin crawled.

Winter saw one of the towering moss giants look in his direction. The giant gestured. Diana’s head turned.

Vines snaked over the roof toward Winter. He leapt aloft before they could grab him. Diana tracked him as he flew back to the front. Winter landed out of sight by some statuary. He transformed into his human form.

“Halt,” a voice ordered. From the tone, Winter knew the man was armed.

“Scott?” Winter tried again. “Where is Scott?”

“Colonel Scott?” One of the boys asked. “Who are you?”

“I’m his brother-in-law. Lord Winter.” Winter adjusted his coat. He was not comfortable wearing a human’s body, but it would have to do. Regardless, the boy looking at him seemed convinced.

“He’s inside, sir.” The boy saluted. “Follow me.”

“Thank you, son.” Winter followed the boy up the long drive. The sudden appearance of a man in black caused some consternation among the boys on duty. Winter used a spell to smooth things. The soldiers went back to standing guard.

He rang the doorbell. Demons littered the front yard. The boys seemed more concerned with taking their gear as trophies than standing guard. Then again, the attack was over. Another marine answered the door. He asked to wait while the sergeant conferred.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Eventually, Lord Winter was allowed inside. The home was spotless. Armored marines stood guard. Winter saw claymores covering the doors and windows. Winter was made to put plastic booties over his shoes first, matching the marines’. Only then was he allowed into the kitchen at the back of the house.

Colonel Scott waited behind the dining room table. His expression was serious. A bodyguard stood to one side and an enforcer on his other. Lord Winter bowed.

“Colonel Scott.”

“Winter.”

Winter swallowed the mortal’s insolence of not using his title. He hated dealing with mortals, and especially humans from Earth. None of them had any respect for rank.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Winter said, his tone polite. “I have had a long journey.”

“I apologize for receiving you in this condition.” Scott placed his hands on the table. “This attack came out of nowhere. It is fortunate you were here to assist.”

“Indeed,” was all Winter said. Silence stretched. He knew what Scott was implying. To deflect responsibility, he added, “I hope you are not implying that I had anything to do with this. There are many companies in Hell who would do us harm, and many more nations in this world. I only came when I learned your son will be turning sixteen soon; I have a letter for him.”

Scott looked at his enforcer.

“I sense the truth of what he says.”

“Very well. Thank you for your assistance.” Scott raised his arm. “Doc is in his room. Down the hall, to the left.”

“You’re welcome.” Lord Winter inclined his head. He left without another word. He found his nephew’s room and knocked. He heard the marines moving around outside, cleaning up. Perhaps his nephew hadn’t heard? He knocked again. “Doctor?”

No answer. Perhaps the boy was cowering under his bed. No, the bed was the first place an attacker would look. A wiser boy would hide in his closet.

“Doctor?” Winter knocked a third time. His patience exhausted, he turned the knob. “I’m coming in.”

Doctor’s room was a mess. Clothes covered the floor. The bed was unmade. His fake wood desk bore rings where cups had sat on it. An old-fashioned type writer sat in a nest of scattered papers, all numberless. A homemade bookcase sat against one wall. Its shelves were crammed with books, with more stacked on top. Posters of video game characters covered the walls. He even had several limited edition statues from pre-order bonuses.

Winter looked under the bed. He saw several short plastic containers for storage, all jam-packed with magazines and books. “Doctor? It’s Uncle Winter. Everything’s all right.” He opened the closet. Under the hanging clothes sat a hamper with an odor. Winter gagged and shut the door. He used a smell resistance charm before opening it again. He moved the hamper aside. Boxes filled with more books. Boxes of keepsakes. But no nephew. Winter cast a powerful cleaning spell on the offending rags and another on the air. He closed the door.

He cast [True Sight]. Invisible objects revealed themselves. Delicate, enchanted strings covered the window screen from outside. Diana’s defenses, no doubt. But nothing else. Winter cast another cleaning spell on, well, everything. Hopefully it would eliminate the stink. He left the room and shut the door, more to keep the smell from coming out than anything.

“He’s not here,” Winter said upon returning to the kitchen. He caught sight of several yellow skulls on the counter, which all had fresh dirt in them and several flowers. “What are those?”

“He’s not in his room?” Diana looked up. For a moment, Winter saw a flash of amber in her eyes. Then it was gone. Diana did not smile. She did not greet him like a long-lost sister happy to see her brother. He could almost see the gears turning in her head. Her expression was borderline hostile.

“He’s out with a friend,” Scott interjected, looking between them. “He just texted me. He’s safe. He’ll be home soon.”

“Where is he?” Winter asked, not looking away from Diana. “And what are you doing with those skulls?”

“Out with a friend,” Scott repeated.

“Turning them into flower pots,” Diana said at almost the same time.

“Would you like something to drink?” Scott said. “We have coffee, water, pop, tea. You like tea, don’t you?” he added with the faint air of an American offering a drink one kept on hand for international guests; as if he could not understand why someone would prefer tea over coffee.

“Tea is fine.” Winter waited while Diana made a pitcher. It wasn’t even real tea. It came out of a plastic bottle as a disgusting ground-up ‘instant’ mix. Diana combined it with sugar and water to make it. She filled the glass to the top with ice, as if to ensure he got as little tea as possible. Winter took the glass without comment. He lifted it to his lips and pretended to drink.

“What’s new in the world of Hell?” Scott asked. He could have cut the awkward silence with a knife. “You people still call it the Pit? Or… gah. What was it called?”

“Infernum.” Winter took an actual sip. It was even worse than he thought. “And no, we don’t. It’s the Maelstrom, now. There was… a bit of a shake-up.”

An earthquake, multiple wars, and a world-shattering ka-boom. Winter did not wish to get into it.

“Would you like to sit?” Scott gestured to the straightest, hardest chair available.

“Thank you,” Winter said. He set his drink down and crossed his arms. “But I’d prefer to stand.”