Chapter 70

As an old man, I’ve had more than my share of knee pain. When I discovered that I basically had no cartilage left during a recent checkup, I didn’t doubt the diagnosis.

After all, I’d spent my whole youth doing dumb stunts like jumping fifteen feet straight down on the regular. I didn’t have time to tend to my screaming joints after I landed, though, as I was worried about an ambush by Fera.

That turned out not to be a problem; after all, who would have guessed I’d try to match her drop without the benefit of demonic strength? They were already on the opposite side of the lobby. She’d propped Dante up against a reception desk and was trying to tend to him.

That gave me pause and I dropped behind an overturned bench to listen in. Why try to treat her pet demonkin when she should be escaping? He was only the help, after all. There were plenty more humans where he came from.

“I think we can get you patched up,” said Fera, looking through a diagnostic spell over his shredded chest.

I wasn’t the only one confused by her compassion. Dante glared at Fera with one angry eye; the other was screwed up with his obvious pain. “The Hell are you doin’, Mistress? I gave ya a perfect chance to escape. I’m just slowin’ you down!”

“Don’t sound so noble,” she chided, probing at his gunshot wounds, which earned her a pained hiss from Dante. “You’re the head of my intel ring. I need you on this side of Hell, or it would set us back years.”

“Don’t be a drongo,” he spat. “They’ve seen me now! Not just Malthus, but the damn king and a half-dozen wizards. I’d be useless even if I could feel my legs. Finish me off and run! You’ll be nicer about it than the League.”

They hadn’t noticed me, and I’ll admit that I was too fascinated by what I was watching to jump straight into action.

“N-no,” said Fera, her voice quavering. “You’ve been so useful to Daddy and I, and I don’t plan to give you up without a fight.”

“That isn’t Our Father’s Law,” he said. “A devil worth all the shit I’ve gone through for you would’ve slit my throat by now.”

“And who are you to question me?” There it was again: a note of actual sorrow in her voice. “Now, be quiet; hopefully you have enough magic for this. Alheln.”

The runes for the familiar spell flowed around her hands, and Dante jerked like she’d hit him with an electric current. I’d been able to heal some bruises to the neck I’d given him in Japan with his pitiful magical reserves, but that was nothing compared to the gunshot wounds Kiyo had left him with.

I got a hint of what Mr. Lahlou had almost unleashed on the world with his compromised healing spell. A sickly yellow aura surrounded Dante’s body as his magic tried to repair his broken body, ‘tried’ being the operative word. I couldn’t see what was happening inside of him, but once his meager magical reserves had burned away, he squeezed both eyes shut and began breathing heavily.

“Dante?” asked Fera.

“Enemy’s damned bones!” he managed, somehow not giving in to Wizard’s Desolation. It seemed like pure agony could do the trick. “F-feels like my guts went through a blender!”

“We can fix this,” said Fera, looking every which way, as though an answer would present itself. “I-I’ll carry you to one of the boats and we’ll get out of here.”

She went to haul him up, but he let out a rather unmanly shriek, startling her so much that she dropped him on his back.

Once he’d gotten command of his faculties again, he cast a hateful glare at Fera. “Good God, woman!” he shouted, reverting to more human modes of speech in his agonized state. “If I fall into their hands, that’s our whole network compromised. Think, ya dumb bint! Finish me off; I can’t anymore after you screwed up that spell!”

She hesitated again. I couldn’t see her face from behind, but she was acting rather fidgety. “But you’re such a useful servant…”

If I’d only been Soren Marlowe, I’d want him alive for that intel. However, I valued my own skin over the humans knowing just how many snakes they had in their midst. If Fera wasn’t willing to put him down, I’d do the demonkin a final favor.

“Bahadour!” I wondered if I’d given myself away somehow, since Fera sprang to the left, out of the way of my attack.

The crippled Dante wasn’t so lucky. I don’t think he even saw it coming, as I simply vaporized him from the neck up.

Fera spun around, and it was damn disconcerting to see Mariko’s eyes filled with killing intent.

“Malthus!” A devil can be shockingly fast when they’re motivated, and Fera was practically a blur as she leapt to her feet and bolted right at me.

Blast it, that gunshot wound wasn’t slowing her down one bit! If only I’d gotten a bit more of Father’s strength…

Seeing that I wouldn’t have time to charge a spell, I drew my borrowed orcish scimitar and prepared for her charge. This proved to be a mistake, as my sword arm reminded me that no matter how much adrenaline had flooded my body, there was still a bullet in my right shoulder, and I found I couldn’t bring the sword to bear. The weapon’s weight strained Mariko’s quick healing job from before. I quickly switched to my off hand and took a swing at Fera as she leapt at me over the bench.

I missed; she did not, and I was trapped beneath her in an instant. The impact sent a jolt of agony through the wounds I’d accumulated through the skirmish, and I nearly blacked out.

However, I didn’t want to let her see that, so I put on my cockiest smirk. “Just like that last night in Pandemonium.”

“You killed him!” Her powerful hands kept my arms pinned to my sides. “How can you joke after that?”

I struggled to break her grip, but it was fruitless. “It takes the edge off,” I said, feeling something wet hit my face. “Hold on; are you crying?”

“N-no!” She sniffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I-it’s something in the air, this place is horribly dusty.”

“Oh, come now,” I said. “That’s my little fib to myself. Get your own material. What’s the sense of lying at this point?”

Fera stuck out her tongue, reminding me of Mariko’s habit when she was deep in thought. “I am crying.” She said it like a patient receiving a terminal diagnosis. “I know this is your fault, Malthus!”

Damn, I’d forgotten just how much a devilmaid’s slap could sting. However, it meant she’d freed my right arm.

“Lechtar!” Electricity flowed through Fera’s body, but it wasn’t enough to throw her off me. She did loosen her grip, though, and a devil isn’t much better at taking a left hook to the nose than an orc. She stayed put, though, and a second slap had me seeing stars.

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

“Punch you in the face?” I managed through a mouthful of blood. I noticed that she’d left one of my hands free, but I’d need a better plan if I was to break free. “It isn’t too gentlemanly, but we’re far past manners.”

“Not that!” The tears were flowing faster now. “All you had to do was kill a few humans, and we’d be on our way home by now!”

“My dear,” I said, “I think I was quite clear about my feelings on the matter.”

She blew a raspberry. “You killed so many of them back when you were a proper devil. I don’t see why a few more should bother you.”

“I think you understand better than you give yourself credit for, my dear,” I said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sobbing over Dante.”

That was a stab in the dark, but the way she’d mentioned him before had seemed like a clue.

“I am not crying over Dante!”

“No shame in it,” I said. “He was a good manservant.”

“Unlike some half-breeds I could mention,” she spat.

“You aren’t so pure yourself,” I said, pointing at her head with my free hand. “I saw to that.”

She reached up and patted her shrunken horns with a wince. “Like I said before, this can be reversed with fifteen minutes with cosmetic magic.”

“Maybe physically,” I said. “But you’re crying over a damn human.”

“I said, I am not crying over Dante!”

I’d anticipated the slap this time, and I managed to block the blow with my intact sleeve. Fera cried out as the fabricata worked into the wool responded to the blow, turning iron hard.

Now, I’m not too proud of what I did next, but like I said, we were well past manners. The superhumanly strong devil had shown she could take a punch to the face, but there were more sensitive targets available.

“Ah!” she cried out, grabbing at her sore right breast. “You barbarian!”

It was effective, though, and it put her off balance enough that I could shove her off me.

I sprang to my feet and leapfrogged back over the bench, trying to put anything I could between Fera and I. It wouldn’t be much cover, but in a point-blank match with a devil, I’d take anything I could get.

Still, her little tantrum had confirmed my suspicions. One doesn’t get so offended unless an accusation is close to the mark.

The thing of it was, I wasn’t sure how much that would help me. I was starting to feel the oncoming exhaustion of the soul that was the prelude of Wizard’s Desolation. It was partly why I hadn’t gone all in on my Electrify spell before. I was down to one shot to take her down; I wasn’t angry enough to charge up a Bloody Lance, since I found myself enjoying her befuddlement.

So, I needed to buy time and see if I could take her off guard.

“Is it too late to talk this out?” I asked.

“What is there possibly left to talk about?”

“Oh, many things,” I said. “It isn’t easy, is it?”

“What is? Speak plainly,” she hissed, rising to her full height. “They’ll be your last words.”

“I mean giving a damn about others,” I said. “You can’t deny it now; losing Dante hurt you. Hell, losing me hurt you.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” she said.

I couldn’t help but grin; she looked so damn cute when she tried to hide her feelings. Call it a spot of weakness for my old fame. “Mariko outed you before, remember? I understand why; you got one taste of Malthus and couldn’t be without me again…”

I’d taken it too far; she leapt right at me, and only long hours of training with Hiro gave me the reflexes to weave out of the way. “You called me a possession before. Well, that makes an underlying like Dante a tool to be cast aside once he’s broken. Why the devil is he worth your tears?”

“One grows attached to a favorite trinket,” she said, whirling around to face me. “Losing Dante was like breaking a favorite hairbrush. That’s all.”

“If he was a hairbrush, then what am I?” I asked.

“A damn annoyance! Liktfeil!” She thrust her finger out at me, sending a beam of red energy right at me. The one-handed spell was designed to slice through flesh like a steak knife, but it was poorly suited against armored targets. It was usually a waste of energy against a wizard, which is why I’d never committed it to memory.

Unfortunately, with my uniform in tatters, I might as well have been unarmored. Light Blade burrowed deep into my side, cauterizing flesh in its wake.

I kept my footing even as my flesh burned, ready to respond with a spell of my own. Sympathy momentarily stayed my hand, though, as I didn’t see the devil who’d threatened me and my friends for weeks. Instead, I saw a beautiful young woman in emotional distress, which had always been my weakness.

I got over it soon enough as the stink of my own cooked flesh hit my nose. “Liktfeil!” Fera’s blouse proved to be even less protection than my tattered uniform. My aim was off, though, as my hands were quaking with exhaustion; I’d intended to catch her square between the eyes with the Mimicked spell, but it hit her left shoulder instead. She cried out like it hurt, at least, but that had been my last bit of offensive magic.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over me and I fell to my knees, running on only the barest fumes of my magical reserve.

Fera cursed in rather low-class Demonic and rushed at me, her hand open wide to finish me off. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the final blow never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around me. “Malthus, you idiot!” If she’d had a few tears to spare for Dante, she looked positively distraught by my state.

“What the devil is going on in your head?” I demanded, managing to sound commanding.

“I’m going to heal you, you boob!”

I barked a disturbingly wet laugh. “After your botch job on Dante? Nothing doing! Unless you’re so sore at me you want to kill slowly?”

“I didn’t want to do it at all! This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said. “You were supposed to see sense and come back home as a hero of the Horde. I was… I was looking forward to having you back with Daddy and I, like the old times.”

“Oh, so you could go back to ignoring me and rebuffing me?” I said. “You’re just upset someone else stole your toy.”

My word, Fera was quick with the slaps. She thrust her hand at me again, and this time a few half-formed runes filled the air before vanishing.

“Damn you to the pits of Hell!” she screamed. “You obnoxious twit! You filthy traitor! Why can’t I just put you out of my misery?”

Some snide comments came to mind, but one never wants to interrupt an enemy in the middle of making a mistake, and Fera was wasting time that could bring me reinforcements. So, I let her rant.

“By all rights, I should have killed you the second you tried to drive me out of Yamada this morning,” she said. “I knew you’d dig your heels in then. But I didn’t end you, because I thought there might be a brain in your half-breed skull!”

I don’t know where you got that idea, I didn’t say. “I laid it all out, Fera. There is something that these humans provide me that you never could.”

I was convinced I’d gone too far; there was murder in those eyes.

“Like what?” she demanded. “You were saying some nonsense about love before. You can’t be so far gone. What’s really going on? What’s your angle?”

I shrugged, immediately regretting it as my wounds protested. “I was being plain with you. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have some love for humanity in the abstract; leave agape for lesser beings.” I chuckled to myself. “You identified Mariko and Kiyo as the perfect levers to manipulate me. Your mistake was underestimating just how much I would risk for them.”

Fera glared down at me. “Mariko believed in you. I could feel it every moment I possessed her. Even Kiyo thought you were trying, though she was closer to despair. I suppose you rewarded their faith.” She craned her head, and I realized the wail of sirens was getting closer. She thrust her hand at me again. “Shame there’s nobody here to rescue you. Good night, Malthus.”

Well, I’d given it my best shot. No shame in that, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of watching me flinch.

She stood there for a small eternity, her hand wavering as she tried again to vaporize my head. Nothing came out.

After a silent minute, I realized I’d already won. That last application of All Heal on the Bermuda had tipped her over the edge to having something like a conscience, rather than a slight hesitation.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Oh, this was rich. I didn’t blink this time, but I did suppress a satisfied grin. It was difficult, since it was so amusing watching somebody else deal with human sympathy, especially human sympathy inherited from two women who carried a torch for me. It hadn’t stopped Fera from throwing magic my way when I had a chance to defend myself, but I knew I looked rather pitiful just then, and that was setting off her borrowed empathy.

“I shouldn’t care!” she screeched, beginning to pace before me. “I shouldn’t care about snuffing you out, but I can’t do it!”

Watching Fera deal with this new dimension to her morality was rather like watching a blind man seeing for the first time. I could sympathize; my weaker impulses were constantly getting me in trouble, and I had two decades of experience with them. I couldn’t imagine having them just pop up one day.

There were limits, of course. The orcs couldn’t trigger those softer feelings, nor could the strangers Dante had brought as backup. But, slaying somebody who was ‘hers’ was different. The ones who ‘belonged’ to her, as she’d claimed I did before. The Dark Lord knew that personal attachments had been my downfall.

It was time to turn the emotional thumbscrews, then. I didn’t want her to work up the courage to finish me off, and I was buying time at this point.

“Then I suppose you’d best be going,” I said.

Fera glared down at me. “What do you mean?”

“Fera,” I said, “I’m clearly in no position to fight you. If you promise to leave me alone, I suppose I can remember that you were the first girl I ever loved.”

She scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. “Oh, you did not! You were a sensible young devil, back then!”

“Oh?” I said. “How many of the young devils who courted you kept coming back? How many tried after you rebuffed them? I didn’t have the words for it back then, but you were my everything.”

I will fully admit that I was exaggerating a tad, but not by much. Dark Lord, in retrospect I’d been a simpering little puppy for her. A proper devilmaid would have found me utterly pathetic.

A compromised one, though? Her charcoal skin could only hide so much of her blush.

“It didn’t keep you from hitting up the red-light district whenever you had a few coins to rub together!” she spat. Did she sound jealous?

“By the standards of devils, I was practically monogamous,” I said, waving her away. “Why should have you been the only one having fun? Regardless, that’s all past. Be on your way, and tell Girdan I said ‘hi’.”

Fera hesitated. “You…”

Fera looked over her shoulder, clearly hearing something I couldn’t and threw up her hands. “Teifenshold!”

She wasn’t a moment too soon, as a hail of bullets slammed into the golden shield.

“I was wondering when you two would arrive,” I muttered.

It was no surprise when Mariko and Kiyo emerged from the stairways, and absolutely predictable that Kiyo unloaded on her with her borrowed rifle.

I was rather more startled when Mariko threw a Celestial Arrow at her. When the golden shaft hit, the armor piercing magic cracked off a piece of the magical construct, sending a spray of golden residuum in all directions.

“You two!” she spat, switching to English. “This is all your fault! You ruined him, and me too!”

My bemusement vanished in an instant. Whatever tender feelings she might have towards me, there’d be none spared for those two.

“Mariko, defense!” I shouted.

“Right! Svalinn’s Mercy!” She ended up with a taller shape much like Fera’s, though slightly irregular on account of her persistent, trembling fingers.

It was enough, though, and Kiyo ducked behind the red barrier just as the carnage began.

“Bahadour! Bahadour! Bahadour!” Fera tossed aside her own shield and began slinging Bloody Lances like there was no tomorrow. Wizards don’t usually chain so many spells back to back, since it creates an awful mental and magical strain, and leaves one a sitting duck. Technically, though, once one had the finger position right, it just required the words and the visualization to cast it again.

She certainly had the anger to power the barrage of Bloody Lances. Mariko quickly had to rebuild the magical shield, and Kiyo holstered her gun to desperately add her own spells to their defense. The withering barrage was driving them back up the stairway. That cover might prove to be more dangerous, though, since Fera had proven how well her Bloody Lances could punch through the office building’s walls, and Mariko and Kiyo wouldn’t be able to see the angle of attack.

Oh, Hell. I had hoped that for once, I could let somebody else swoop in and play the hero, but Fera wasn’t giving me much choice.

Wizard’s Desolation is an odd phenomenon. When one doesn’t faint outright, it leaves one feeling like they’ve replaced the inside of their skull with steel wool after tying lead weights to every limb. Yet, if a doctor had inspected me without being able to hear my complaints of fatigue and a splitting headache, he’d declare me in perfect health. (Well, aside from the bullet and magical wounds).

So, it took a monumental effort to get back on my feet, glancing about for anything that resembled a weapon. The orcish scimitar was out of easy reach, and there wasn’t time to search the receptionist’s desk for something better.

Fine. I’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

It wasn’t a challenge to sneak up on the devilmaid, since she was quite occupied with sending a withering barrage of hate at Kiyo and Mariko. I’d worried that I’d be too slow in that state to reach them, but the two managed to erect new defensive spells just a hair faster than Fera could knock them down. However, Kiyo was bound to run out of magic soon, and Mariko wouldn’t be too far behind her.

There was no time for a sarcastic barb, and Fera had tossed away my ceasefire offer the second she unloaded on the two women I’d sacrificed so much for. No mercy.

I raised both hands and interlaced the fingers together before bringing them down on the back of her head as hard as I could. Enhanced strength or no, the surprise and leverage sent her sprawling, though my hands protested the abuse.

“Malthus!” she shouted, whirling about. “What are you…”

My only response was to lurch forward and drive my elbow into her stomach. Fera’s eyes bulged as I connected, and she wheezed helplessly. I was grateful for the reprieve, as my head swam and my vision blurred.

“Soren, get out of the way!” Kiyo and Mariko rushed up, and Kiyo held Dorothy at the ready.

If I hadn’t been fighting to keep from passing out, I’d have complied. Unfortunately, I was quivering on hands and knees right over Fera.

Fera recovered first, naturally. “I know a better way to deal with you two.” Fera’s whole body began to glow as her physical form melted away.

Time seemed to slow as the horror of the situation hit me. It was obvious what she meant to do: leave one or both as an empty husk. Visions of Wendy’s emaciated corpse danced through my mind.

I went with the first solution that came to mind: I listened to my protesting limbs and flopped to the ground on top of her just as she finished activating her affinity.

The familiar pins and needles flowed through my limbs Fera’s essence flowed into me.

“What is wrong with you?” demanded my voice in a rather feminine High Demonic. “Enemy’s Eyes, what the Hell is wrong with you? You feel half dead!”

“Soren!” cried Mariko, looking about as helpless as I felt while I wrestled my own limbs.

Fera was bound to leap out of me at any moment, but that’s where the second part of my trap came in. It had occurred to me that when Fera rode somebody, she matched their sleep cycles. Otherwise, there was the risk that Kiyo or Mariko could have awoken by themselves and gone for help.

Now, Fera and I weren’t compatible roommates, but when she’d fully invaded my body, she’d left more out of frustration than any forcing I’d done. Which meant that with any luck, if I passed out, then so would she.

And I had a simple way to force the issue.

It was a struggle to force control of my fingers, but I managed it. Seizing control of my mouth, I shouted, “Be ready to do whatever you must! Lovely Fireworks!”

I’d chosen that spell deliberately; it was a byproduct of magical research and was what happened when one simply forced magic out of the body without proper shaping it. I surrendered control of my mouth to focus on keeping my hands in the right casting position. Even if Fera was able to bump a few fingers out of alignment, she’d only change the size and color of the sparks.

“Stop it!” shouted Fera in my own voice. “Stop it stop it stop—”

It was too late, though, as the air all around us filled with a brilliant shower of residuum sparks. My body fell further into Wizard’s Desolation, consuming the last fumes of magical energy and switching over to convert my fat and other tissues to power the spell.

This was always a losing bet, though, and my lids grew yet heavier. With a foreign power still hurling invectives at me with my own lips, my hands fell to my sides.

My last vision before my eyes fell shut were looks of concern from Kiyo and Mariko. It seemed to me that if this failed, there were worse sights to go out on.

Chapter 71

I opened an eye, regretting it as my head pounded. Either I was alive and in full Wizard’s Desolation, or Our Father Below had decided to add it to my eternal punishment.

My heart raced as I realized I couldn’t move my right arm, and I worried that I still had my unwanted roommate. I sat upright, though I regretted it as my vision swam. “Fera!”

“Oh sure, it’s her name on his lips,” said Kiyo.

When my vision cleared again, I saw that we were still at the shipyards, though I’d been moved outside at some point. My right arm was bound in a sling, and the exposed parts of my body were nearly covered in bandages. Regular military mixed with the local police and emergency services, and I even saw a few military wizards milling about. Nobody I knew, but then, I suspected that they wouldn’t have redeployed Sergeant Lakhdar and the rest of the Nineteenth Platoon during a mysterious crisis. There was still Parliament to protect, after all.

Nobody was paying us any mind, which I was grateful for. The concrete wasn’t the softest hospital bed I’d ever awoken on, but the way my head was threatening to split open, I was beyond comfort.

Or, so I thought. “Don’t be mean to Kasasagi,” chided Mariko, leaning over to lovingly pat my cheek. I instantly felt better. “He’s been through a lot.”

“And we haven’t?” countered Kiyo.

“I assure you,” I said, “you have no reason to be jealous of Fera. Speaking of which, where is she? I take it she’s been dispatched.”

Mariko frowned. “In a sense…”

“You picked a crap time to nap,” said Kiyo. “A couple minutes after you passed out, Fera’s body just appeared next to you.”

“And you shot her, right?” I asked.

Kiyo frowned before looking away.

I whirled around, nearly passing out as white-hot pain crossed my head. That momentary weakness was all that saved my girlfriend from a death glare.

“Careful, Soren,” said Mariko as she steadied me. “You’re still weak.”

“You didn’t talk Kiyo out of ending things, did you?” I demanded. “If Fera escaped…”

I took a deep sniff, finding no trace of sulfur in the air. She wasn’t in either of them, as far as I could tell.

“Whoa, now,” said Kiyo. “Mariko isn’t, like, my supervisor or anything. After what that bitch did to us? I’d have totally emptied a clip between the eyes if I could’ve.”

“I don’t like the hypothetical way you phrased that,” I said. “Is she dead or not?”

Kiyo’s eyebrow twitched. “I was trying to say, but you guys interrupted me. Soon as Fera solidified, a bunch of military guys showed up. They started asking questions, wanted to know what happened.”

Mariko shifted awkwardly where she sat. “I might have let slip that she was the mastermind of the attack.”

My stomach sank as put the pieces together. “They can’t possibly think they can hold her!” Overriding the protestations of my entire battered body, I levered up with my unbandaged arm and rose onto shaky legs. “Who’s in charge here? They have to know!”

Mariko gestured for me to simmer down. “It was a wizard attached to one of the local garrisons. I think his name was Arima? He was leading some non-wizard soldiers while they were sweeping the area. Thankfully, he had some magical bonds on him, so we put her in irons.”

“Bloody brilliant,” I said, unable to keep the frustration from my voice. “Now she’ll be inconvenienced for a few moments before her body turns to energy and they slip right off!”

Mariko frowned at me. “What should I have done? Pump a Magic Bolt into her head after I had been ordered not to?”

Wouldn’t have been a bad start…

“Besides,” said Mariko, “the only reason she broke the last set of bonds was because she had access to my Lovely Alchemy.”

“I was able to get off a quick look with Mimic Sight while I was in them,” I said. “Hurt like the dickens, a few seconds might be enough time to slip out.”

“It was out of our hands,” said Kiyo, gesturing at the borrowed rifle slung across her back. “Trust me, if it was just me and Mariko? Dorothy would have sent that witch back to Oz.”

I wondered how long she’d been working on that line.

I scanned the crowd, but none of the wizards around us looked Japanese. “Where is this Arima? He needs to know what he’s dealing with!”

“Kasasagi.” Mariko’s voice allowed for no argument. “Calm down. Why do you think we did not tell them?”

That gave me pause. “I suppose I should hear the whole story before I panic.”

“You should not panic at all,” said Mariko. “They had a medic with them. Even if they did not have the bonds, she injected her with some sort of sedative. I doubt she will awaken until they want her to.”

Which, if Fera woke up in a human prison and felt trapped… well, she’d be screaming that Soren Marlowe was a devil named Malthus until she passed out. “How long was I out?”

Kiyo put her hand sideways and waggled it. “‘Bout twenty minutes or so?”

“She’s… long gone, isn’t she?”

“I am afraid so,” said Mariko, looking downcast. “I… I am sorry we were not able to carry out your last instruction.”

Kiyo sighed. “Yeah, it’s… pretty shit luck.”

If it had been anybody else but those two, I’d have given them a piece of my mind. However, they’d only had that demoness in their heads because of me, and I knew they’d done their best. Mariko was no executioner, but I believed Kiyo that she’d been prevented from emptying Dorothy into her prone form. Besides, from their long faces, they’d already foreseen what had me so riled up.

I decided that they didn’t deserve to feel any worse. “Then I suppose there’s no use worrying about what we can’t change. Now come here, you two.”

With one of my wings clipped, I couldn’t embrace them both, so Mariko got the preferential treatment. Kiyo didn’t complain, to my shock, joining our group embrace.

“It’s such a relief seeing you both again, without having to worry about who’s behind your eyes.”

“It’s pretty sweet for us, too,” said Kiyo. “Gotta love full motor control.”

“I never gave up hope,” said Mariko. “I knew you’d save me.”

Kiyo sighed. “Just gotta one up me, huh? Fera kinda outed me for panicking the whole time.”

“Mariko had the unfair advantage of going voluntarily,” I said. “Which was still the action of a madwoman!”

Mariko couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. “As though you didn’t just give up your freedom for us both!”

“A small sacrifice for my favorite humans,” I said.

“Hold on,” said Kiyo. “Favorite humans? Not favorite people? What, are there some devils you like better?”

“Not anymore,” I said, feeling a touch of allergies come on, though I managed to keep control. “Not since I learned better.”

“Hey, is there room in that group hug for the rest of your squad?”

I turned and gawked at who I saw. “Gabriella Hernandez! What are you doing up and around?”

The olive-skinned woman certainly didn’t look like somebody who’d taken an armor-piercing bullet to the chest an hour ago. She had replaced her ruined uniform top for an oversized jacket with British military insignia, likely a gift to maintain her modesty.

“It’s called healing magic,” she said in a condescending tone. I noted that despite her earlier admonishment, she didn’t join the group hug. “Though, I don’t think I’d be here if it wasn’t for you.”

I winced at that, breaking away from Mariko and Kiyo. “And I’m sorry for that. If there’d been any other choice, I’d have never let this happen.”

Gabriella blinked twice, looking perplexed. “You let what happen now?”

It occurred to me that even if my goose was cooked, nobody there but us three realized it. “Wait, what did you mean by that?”

Gabby indicated her chest. “Heaven’s Shield. The whole platoon’s been using it as a magical sports bra since Mariko told us about it.”

Kiyo sniffed. “Not all of us…”

Gabby studiously ignored Kiyo’s envy. “Anyway, Yukiko figured it slowed down the bullet enough so it didn’t penetrate too far.”

I cocked my head. “But it was a dud of a defensive spell, wasn’t it?”

“Turns out it’s pretty good at dealing with armor-piercing fabricata bullets,” she replied. “So, thanks. Now…” Her eyes narrowed. “It sounded like you said you knew that shit was going down today. Explain!”

“I’m afraid that’s classified for the moment,” I said. “You’ll know in due time.”

“Sufficed to say,” piped up Mariko as she gave her squad mate a deep bow, “I am only here because of your efforts. Thank you, Gabriella. I am in your debt.”

“Yeah, same here,” said Kiyo, though she didn’t bow. “You did a pretty good job with that mortar blast.”

It was so convenient having those two on my side.

Gabriella’s olive cheeks turned darker. “Stop that, you’re embarrassing me! Fine, I’ll drop it… for now.”

Good, because I was only partially sure what I’d tell everyone. My original cover stories had relied on Fera being sent to meet Our Father Below. With her ready to contradict me as soon as she could speak, I was better off delaying my report.

It seemed that Gabby hadn’t returned on her own. As always, the Divine Blade had attracted himself a coterie of wizards and mundane troops wanting to hear the tale from the big man himself. From the way he was gesturing, the old braggart was doing his best to talk up his timely rescue.

Hiro’s squad was looking in good spirits as well, even as a pair of paramedics checked them out. Kowalski was getting most of the attention, and Buddy was resisting. He’d sheathed the Polish man’s leg in a sleeve of shadowy energy in an attempt to protect it. A smaller piece of him, roughly approximating his head, was poking over Kowalski’s shoulder. I’d gotten a good sense of the shadowy golem’s expressions in Iceland, and I swore the beast looked worried.

At least the man himself was talking and smiling. Still, he looked paler than normal, and I wished him well. He was another near victim of my secrets. I didn’t care to face him without a convincing answer about what had taken place that day.

There was one face I was especially relieved to see. Excusing myself from the ladies, I staggered over to a jowly figure sitting in a folding chair somebody had scared up. He was being fussed over by a medic as well, and didn’t seem too pleased about it.

“I told you, I’m perfectly fine!” snapped King George. “Go help somebody who was in the thick of it! Get out before I have you jailed!”

It was an idle threat in a more democratic era, but the medic seemed to take it seriously. I came in and knelt down to meet his eyes.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Your Majesty,” I said. “You did manage to shoot a devil and live to tell the tale. Not a lot of mundane soldiers can claim that.”

“For all the good it did,” he replied. Whatever uppers they had him on had begun to wear off, giving his eyes a tired, sunken appearance. For all of his protestations, he should have been on his way back home, if not to a hospital.

“Oh, I’ll hear nothing of it,” I said.

“I’m still your king,” he countered, his tone oddly playful. “If I want to feel let down, that is my business.”

If he was still willing to claim me, I took it as a good sign. “I’m sorry for the losses we suffered today. If it wasn’t for me, those men would still be with us.”

“They should not weigh on you,” he replied. “I brought those men along, and they were prepared to lay down their lives for their nation. Don’t insult their bravery.”

“It was a near thing,” I said. “Frankly, I’m surprised that devil left you alive.”

“It was confounding,” he said. “It was the Australian who wanted to kill me and the other hostages in that office, but the demoness who made him stop.”

Fascinating. “She likely wanted me to do the deed. Sort of a ritual to reclaim me.”

King George grinned up at me. “You know, I almost wish they had succeeded.”

“Sir?”

“What good am I anymore? Can you imagine the boost to morale?” he said. “I had the press releases ready. 'King George leads from the front, dies heroically on the battlefield! If an old man could face the demons bravely, can we do any less?’ It would have been a perfect rallying cry for the nation.”

“It sounds a bit wordy, but I suppose that’s what second drafts are for.” It seemed to me that the world was lucky he didn’t have higher ambitions than rebuilding his nation. The way he’d brushed off concerns about the dead Yeomen, and even plotted to use his own death to further his aims, were the marks of a Machiavellian. Hell, he’d flown me across the world to knight me and put a deathly ill Wendy on display in an attempt to boost national morale.

I was lucky he seemed to like me. Or, perhaps more accurately, have a use for me.

“Everyone is a critic,” he replied, though his satisfied smile didn’t slide an inch. “I hope you make it through whatever storm is coming.”

“Sir?”

“The demoness was captured alive,” he said. “If she thought you were a confederate, it’s going to be your name on her lips as soon as she realizes escape is impossible.”

He’d divined that much from the half-truths I’d fed him? That settled it; as much as I enjoyed the cut of the king’s jib, I’d rest easier when that schemer was in the Enemy’s simpering host.

“Yes, I’m rather worried about it, too.”

“You understand I’ll be forced to disavow you if the worst happens,” he said.

“Of course,” I said, starting to sweat despite the chill morning. “Will that be a record for the shortest knighthood on record?”

“I’ll have someone look it up for the speech,” he said. “Of course, I hope I won’t have an excuse to give it. Not when you’ve proven yourself like you did today.”

“And here I thought we were closer than that,” I said, the joke tumbling from my lips despite myself.

“Oh, you’re a fine lad,” he said. “But, there is the bigger picture to consider.” He cast his eyes towards the half-sunken Bermuda. “The ship is recoverable, though it will take time. We traded some of my personal guard for something like sixty orcs and goblins, a few demonkin, and a captured devil. We also kept her from possessing and killing two valuable wizards. There will also be the boost to morale by showing that we can still defend ourselves. Whatever happens, you can be proud of what you accomplished today. It’s more than I’ve accomplished since England fell.”

“I couldn’t have laid the trap without you,” I said, daring to put a hand on his shoulder. “And you shouldn’t talk like that; you said it yourself, you’re a symbol. No matter what you think, you’ll be a better standard bearer for the nation alive than as a corpse. Besides,” I said, sparing him a wink, “I can’t wait to hear you browbeat the two Parliaments to sort out their pissing match in the face of a national emergency.”

“That den of vipers,” he said, shuddering slightly. “Is it too late to let that devil take me?”

I clucked my tongue at him. “Now, let’s can that talk, Your Highness, or else I’ll have to tell the Archbishop.”

I like to think that King George’s head rolling back as he fell asleep was him admitting I’d won the argument.

A pity all of my arguments couldn’t be so convivial…