After a long nap against the llama’s warm body, Lawrence’s spirits rose. A hot shower and air conditioning would have been nice. But the school, well, it was a slum. Scratch that, it made slums look like resorts. The school was awful.

Wind coming off the mountains blew through the curtain wall’s gates. Today, the temperature was blistering hot. Lawrence left the British vest in his room with most of his layers. Cosmic Creepers drank a double portion of water. Breakfast was bread and old, dried vegetables imported from an estate with greenhouses on the Third.

Lawrence attended class. Lucrezia taught the binding lesson. She loved getting to know the students. After about five minutes it was apparent she had little interest in teaching. She appeared more interested in whether any of the students were sleeping together. When they confessed they were not, she encouraged them to do so. Sex could strengthen bonds between people, or so she claimed. Lawrence got up and left.

“Excuse me, young man,” the middle-aged Renaissance woman called. “Do you not know it is the height of rudeness to walk away from a lesson? Your uncle will be informed.”

Lawrence ignored her. He returned to the library. He browsed the shelves. The most powerful sorceries contained therein required fifteen levels in one’s Faustian Sorcery Skill. Said rituals were Binding 4 and Warding 5. Lawrence found a few books of the dead; damned souls turned into books via soulshaping. Lawrence knew the basic ritual that would allow him to soulshape.

He put the books back. They whispered things when he read them. Most of the whispers were inane comments on Hellish history. From an educational standpoint, it would make sense for Lawrence to attend the classes on Hellish history and Infernal Theology. It would be invaluable to know all about the angels, Lucifer, the Luciferine Heresy, and the nature of Contracts.

Lawrence knew all these things and more. Mom’s homeschooling was thorough.

Down at the base of the tower he found a trapdoor. Under the trapdoor he found a small room with three brass heads. They were shaped like the heads of cows. They sat in plaques on the wall. They were not alive, but they seemed possessed.

“I know about you guys,” Lawrence told them. “Mom told me. Living computers.”

“We are encyclopedias of knowledge,” the leftmost one bragged.

“You should summon a level fifteen giant,” the middle one advised.

“Weatherly wears pink socks,” the right one whispered, as if telling a secret. “He dyes his hair.”

“Fascinating.” Lawrence looked around the vault. The three enormous heads occupied the space. “Tell me, do you know any sorceries above level fifteen?”

“No, no, those were all lost,” wailed the left head.

“You should get them back,” the middle one ordered. “The sorcerer-demons took them. Infernal Innovations.”

“Their corporation is in a golden age. After the Great Separation and the Storm’s arrival, they discovered crystal-driven levitation and invented airships. Sorcery is dying,” the right head complained. “Everyone wants to study computers now. And engineering. Few want to become mystics or soothsayers.”

“I wonder why.” Lawrence sighed. Not all the information was garbage. History was important. But the heads knew little that would help him right now. Lawrence left the tower. He didn’t bother closing the door. If an apprentice summoned something too strong, well, he didn’t think they’d survive long anyway.

On his way back to the quad a damned came running.

“Letter for you,” the ghost said, breathless. “It’s from the Bloody. They said: ‘Come at once.’”

“Tell them I’m on my way.” Lawrence went back to his dorm. He grabbed his robes and armor. Cosmic Creepers stood but Lawrence waved him down. “Not this time, boy. I need you to stay safe.”

Lawrence went to Uncle Winter’s house. He knocked on the door. He didn’t wait long. Uncle Winter opened it.

“Lawrence? What are you doing here?”

“The Bloody sent a message.” Lawrence avoided looking at him. “They said there’s a crisis. I need to help.”

“I’ll meet you at the gate in five.” Winter rushed out of the house. He flew across the lawn for a hovel situated at the perimeter of the school.

Lawrence went to the gate. He still did not have the items Winter had promised. The ghost waited for him. It was androgynous. It could have been male or female. It looked like a manikin given life. White mist emanated from its eyes, as if it was a shell inhabited by a cloud.

“The demons are waiting outside.” The soul bounced from foot to foot. A demon had branded Blood Well’s signature fist into the soul’s chest. It stood out like an angry welt against the milky skin.

“Why don’t you run?” Lawrence asked.

“What?”

“Why don’t you run? What’s keeping you here?”

“Whuh?” the soul stopped bouncing. “I am my master’s slave. As long as I obey, he makes the pain go away.”

“He’s just going to torture you again. Sooner or later. He’s a demon. He feeds on your soul stuff to survive.”

“I know this.” The soul grew somber. “If I leave, another will hunt me down and take his place. If I disobey, I’ll go to a torture palace. Have you ever seen a torture palace, master?”

Lawrence shook his head.

“They grind us up in giant drums lined with blades. We’re rendered down into wastrels. Little wisps of nothing drifting in the wind. They squeeze out all of our iliaster. They drain it into a trough for the demons to feed on like horses. Serving? It keeps the pain away. For a day.”

“There must be tribes of mortals.” Lawrence leaned forward, intent. “Places out in the wastes where damned can escape.”

“There are, but getting there from here is impossible. I’d have to leave Tempest, cross to Emptiness. There’s a wall around the ring to prevent souls from doing just that. They built it before the Storm came. It used to be nobles traveled by train or carriage. Now everyone needs an airship to travel.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I… I don’t know.” The soul shook its head. “Long enough to remember when Maelstrom was called Infernum. Long enough… too long. I wish I could die. I wish I could die and end this torment. But this death is better than the agony of being a wastrel. Endless suffering.” The soul shuddered.

“What is your name?”

“I… I…” the soul’s brow creased. “I don’t remember. The Lethe clouds erase all memory. All I know is pain. All I’ve ever known is service and hurt.”

The soul’s eyes changed. Actual eyeballs appeared in its sockets. Their irises were the warmest shade of brown.

“Once, a child told me it’s okay to have hope. That just because we’re in Hell, it’s okay to be happy. For a second, I almost believed her.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Did she have a name?”

“If she did, she doesn’t now. No one does. Names don’t matter here. Not really. Nothing does.”

Lawrence glanced around. The area was empty. He made a split-second decision.

“Come ‘ere.” He muttered the soulshape ritual. Using his knife, he flayed the brand off the soul. The soul gasped but remained silent. Its eyes widened. A bit of color came back to its face. Lawrence pocketed the flesh. “I’ll get rid of it later. Hurry. Run and hide before my uncle gets here. I’ll draw the demons away. You can escape later.”

The soul gaped.

“Get going.” Lawrence pushed his shoulder. After a moment, realization dawned and the soul took off running. It ran smack into a wall and went right through like, well, a ghost. It couldn’t pass the wardings, but the wardings only covered the curtain wall. The mountain was another matter. Lawrence stood around waiting another five or ten minutes. Then Uncle Winter and Lily approached.

“Nephew.”

“Uncle.”

“I am sending Lily to guard you. Lily, you are responsible for ensuring Lawrence makes it back in one piece. If he dies, I will flay you myself. If he is injured, I will kill you. This time, ensure he is able to enter the walls; do not leave him outside to suffer or die.”

“Yes master.”

Winter glared at her with both heads. Lily ducked her head.

“Good luck, Lawrence. Watch yourself.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Lawrence couldn’t help feeling Uncle Winter had said something more vulgar. It was as if he wanted Lily to kill him.

“The two of you have some things to work out. Get to it.” Winter shoved Lily forward. She stumbled, almost falling. She shot Lawrence a glare. Her cheeks pink, she unlocked the gate. She marched through. Lawrence followed. He heard both gates close and lock.

“Where is my slave soul?” the drone asked. He had an iron fist branded on his chest.

“I told it to watch my pet llama until I get back.”

“What is a llama?”

“It’s a type of spawn,” Lily snapped. “You’ll get it back when we return. Lawrence, you should not have done that. You fool.”

The demon gnashed its teeth. It stood almost ten feet tall. It had a bald head with two curled horns, and a permanent, angry expression. Its weapon was a barbed cat-o-nine-tails. It stomped after Lawrence and Lily.

“You set me up,” Lily yelled.

“You set yourself up,” Lawrence yelled back. “You tried to get me killed.”

“Only because you’re taking my spot.”

“I don’t even want your spot.” Lawrence shouted, “I want to go home.”

“You’re stuck here, kid. Same as me. You’re Winter’s heir. Like it or not.”

“I never asked to be his heir. That doesn’t sound like a job that interests me. I want to be a mage. I want to go to magic school for wizards.”

“Are you for real?” Lily rounded on him. “Open your eyes. You’re at one now. The best magic school in Hell for faustians. This is it. You got what you wanted.”

“Are you deaf?” Lawrence glared. “I said one for wizards, not faustians. I hate faustian sorcery. It takes forever to cast. There’s a high chance it’ll fail. And you can’t do anything with it. I want to study sorcery. Things like reanimation and fireballs.”

“There are rituals for both of those.”

“Again. They take forever to cast. They usually fail. Most sorcerers don’t do those things. I want to be able to snap my fingers and shoot lightning out of my hands. There’s no ritual that can do that.”

“That’s because people don’t need lightning.”

“You clearly know nothing about magic.” Lawrence walked around her. He kept walking down the path. Lily shoved him. Shocked, Lawrence halted. He turned his head. “Bitch. Don’t push me.”

“Oh you—” she shrieked. Her arms started waving. He was already walking. He flipped her off over his shoulder. Her screaming traveled down the gravel slope.

He found the imp sitting at its post. It fluttered as he approached. Lily still raged.

“Whatsit doo ‘ere?”

“Your captain called me. Said to come.”

“Yeah. That’s right, you go ahead and cum into his pants,” Lily sneered. “You little snot.”

Gnat froze. He was in the act of pulling a chain to open the door. He looked up in fear. His eyes darted from face to face. Lawrence motioned for him to keep moving.

“Lily.” Lawrence looked at her. “If Uncle Winter replaced you, maybe that’s because you’re a whiny little bitch.”

“I’m more than twice the demon you’ll ever be,” she yelled. “You’ll die in a day without me.”

“Statistically unlikely,” Lawrence’s tone went deadpan. “If that was gonna happen it’d have happened yesterday. Besides, being a demon isn’t something to brag about.”

“I’m an [opener]. Criminals come to me, and I sell their stuff.”

“Why? Couldn’t make it as a criminal? Too weak and soft? No—I know. It’s because you’re a girl, right?”

“You—you.” Lily’s eyes blazed. “You asshole! Your face is ugly.”

“I’d rather have an ugly face than your personality. Go piss off and die, you whore. Men have work to do.”

Lawrence turned away. Her fist connected with the back of his head. Pain blossomed; she was stronger than he expected. He turned around. Hot, angry tears filled his eyes. Lily dared him to attack, but her voice was sweet.

“You can’t hurt me, little boy. It’s ungentlemanly. Besides, you’re a—”

Lawrence launched himself at her. He tackled Lily. He rained punches on her pretty face. She grabbed his wrist. She hooked a leg under his and rolled him sideways so she was on top. And then she was raining punch after punch at his head.

Lawrence was aware of the drone’s black boots a few feet away. The imp laughed. Lawrence covered his face with one hand. Lily had his other pinned. Her face was a mask of rage.

A clawed hand yanked her head back. The fiend captain hauled her off him. He picked her up and threw her aside. Lawrence jumped up and over. He punched and kicked. A hand with fingers like giant sausages gripped Lawrence’s collar. The drone lifted and held him in the air.

Lily jumped up, but a body interposed itself between them.

“ENOUGH.” The fiend captain looked between them. He pointed at the drone. “You. Put him down.”

The drone put Lawrence down. Lily charged. The captain held her back.

“NO. ENOUGH.” He restrained her until she stopped.

Lawrence glared. Lily glared. The captain glared. Lawrence’s glasses were bent. Bruises covered his face. Lily’s looked the same. Lawrence had ripped out pieces of her hair. She wasn’t quite so pretty anymore, he thought with grim satisfaction.

The fiend looked between them. His mouth moved. He may have said some words, but Lawrence couldn’t hear past the pounding in his ears. He hated Lily with a passion. Just when he thought he’d found a friend, they turn out to be a monster. All the people he’d ever known in school were monsters. Lily was just the same. An evil, malicious, monster.

The knowledge she was worried about her job didn’t factor. Lawrence did not want the job. Did not expect to get the job. Did not care for the job. When the time came, he’d leave and abandon Winter to rule over his patch of dirt at the backend of the universe’s butthole. Why Lily wanted to inherit Winter’s dirt, he couldn’t see. He didn’t care.

He was starting to understand why the adults he knew found women exhausting. It was just like the sexists said: women did not listen, they heard what they wanted to hear.

Lawrence took some deep breaths. That was what the middle school principle had taught in fifth grade. Inhale for five seconds, exhale for five seconds. Lawrence tried it. It didn’t work. Perhaps it was because his tormentor stared him in the face, unrepentant.

“Miss Lily,” the captain said. “Return to the school. This incident will be reported to my superiors and yours. You are not needed.”

“She can’t, captain,” Lawrence said. His spine straightened. Ah, of course, this company thought of themselves as a military. His dad was military. Lawrence’s colony was run by the military. He should fit right in. All this knowledge passed through his subconscious and shoved itself to the forefront of his mind. Military. Rules. Formality. “She has the key to get back in the gates. She has a map to navigate the mountain, and a compass to help me get back. She must stay.”

“Right.” The captain thought for a moment. It shoved its hand out to Lily. “Give me the items. My sorcerer will keep them. You have my word I will not use them to get inside your school-fortress.”

“I can’t give them to you.” Lily did not straighten up. She still looked like she wanted to fight.

“If you don’t, I will take them.”

“If you do—” Lily warned. She reached for the dagger at her belt.

In hindsight, Lawrence realized he was prolly lucky she hadn’t stabbed him during their scuffle. There’s no way he’d survive a stabbing.

The captain seized Lily. The drone pinned her arms. The imp flitted over and put its sharp bit of metal to her throat. She fought as best she could without moving her throat from side to side. She screeched. She behaved as if they were trying to force themselves on her. Instead, the imp and the fiend patted her pockets. They snatched her dagger and rucksack. The fiend tossed the bundle at Lawrence. He kept the dagger. The imp cut her shoelaces, giggling.

“Now get out of here.” The drone shoved her toward the mountain. The captain kicked her butt. Lily tripped. Her foot came out of the shoe. She sprawled into the dirt. The captain jabbed his finger, saying “Don’t come back. If you ever come after my sorcerer again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Crying, Lily slowly stood. Even though her shoe was right there, she abandoned it. She walked back up the mountain with as straight a spine as she could.

Lawrence and the demons watched for a minute.

“What happened?” the fiend demanded.

Lawrence described the events leading up to it.

“Don’t tell me about yesterday. I want to know what happened right now. What gives you the right to hit first?”

“That’s actually not true, sir.” The drone added. “She attacked first. Twice.”

The fiend stopped talking. He glanced at the drone as if trying to gauge whether it was lying. Lawrence felt a twinge of guilt at freeing the demon’s slave. He kept his mouth shut. He waited for the fiend to say what was on his mind.

“A force from the Usurpers, Thug Swarm, is coming to attack us,” the fiend said. “Do you have any experience fighting?”

“In the mortal world? Yes. But I used guns. There aren’t many rituals—”

“Yes, yes, I know all about rituals.” The demon waved its claws. “Forget the rituals. You have a sword. Can you fight with it?”

“A rifle is better. But yes.”

“Good. Follow me. Keep up and keep quiet.”