The smoke from the hookah filled my lungs, and I continued to inhale even after I’d passed the mouthpiece back to Mona until at last, I needed to breathe. I felt like a dragon as the smoke billowed from my mouth, joining the cloud we’d formed on the ceiling.
I’d raised an eyebrow when Mona had led me to the elevator and pushed the button marked Hall of Pleasures, not knowing what she intended. When we’d arrived, I had seen that demon again, Creech, who had harassed Mona at the feast. This time he’d refused to make eye contact with us as he meekly showed us to a private room in the far back of the lounge.
He’d offered to have the rest of the floor cleared, and for several priestesses from the bordello to join us. But I had shaken my head to both of those offers.
Through the wall, I heard distant vibrations, muffled conversations, and frequent laughter. It was much more relaxing than dead quiet.
Mona had been right. I had begun to feel better. Part of me wondered what, exactly, was even in the hookah. Whatever it was, my head had started to feel lighter, and all my problems—the worry of being caught, of the war, of escape—grew ever more distant with every breath.
“If I was more cynical, Mona, I might think you brought me here to make me more pliable.”
She laughed, smoke flowing from her nostrils as she passed the hookah. “I brought you here to enjoy yourself, Master. The rest is entirely up to you.”
Mona had been seated next to me on the couch, but now she moved onto my lap, her thighs squeezing against me as I felt myself stiffen. It was hard to ignore the feelings of desire, but there was something I still needed to ask her. An answer I was still afraid of hearing. So I delayed once more.
“Teach me another spell, Mona,” I said. “I feel like we’ve spent all our time reacting to everything that’s been happening. I haven’t had a chance to get another lesson.”
As if to demonstrate my commitment to learning, I placed my hands on her waist and lifted her gently, moving her next to me on the couch again. I was surprised by my strength, at how effortless it felt. She was looking at me in a funny way, and I thought I saw a hint of respect and the same hunger as earlier in her eyes.
“Or is it too late for you to teach me?” I asked.
Mona tossed her head as if trying to shake herself from a dream. I wondered if I should pinch her, but then her eyes focused on me, and she smiled. “Not at all, Master,” she said. “In truth, you already know a few spells.”
“I do?” I thought about it for a moment. “Oh!” I smiled at her. “I think I understand. The poem—I mean, the incantation—can be rearranged for different effects?”
“Close,” she said. “Fragments of the incantation can be used to cast simpler spells.” She reached out and covered the burning herb in the hookah with a glass cover, suffocating the fire. Then she uncovered it, and her voice sounded out in the Old Tongue, “My Will in service to this flame.” Her eyes glowed for a moment in the dim light of the booth. With a flick of her wrist, an ember floated from her fingertip and landed in the hookah bowl, re-igniting it. She took a pull and smirked at me as she blew another cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.
“Now, you try,” she said and put out the flame again.
I felt a rush of excitement. This is what I had wanted all along. But could I do it? The only time I’d used magic was in a life or death situation. Now, sitting here, utterly relaxed, how could I capture my desire? I reached out, trying to mimic Mona’s gesture, and took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to do that, by the way,” she said. “Just do whatever feels right, however you wish to conceive of the spell. That’s the most important part.”
“My Will. Right.” It was maddening how little rules magic seemed to have here. You had to know the incantation, but nothing needed to be said as long as you knew the feeling of the spell. You could make a gesture or not, but if you cast a spell in a way that was in accord with your Will, in a way that felt right, it would increase your chances of success.
It seemed so arbitrary. Frustratingly so. Magic was supposed to have rules, damn it. But in this world, it seemed more art than science. Pyromancy was, at least. I wondered about the other schools.
I took a deep breath, then reached out with my hand in a way that felt natural. I closed my eyes, envisioning the energy of my Will flowing into my fingers, of the fire conjured there, of igniting the hookah. With my desires in mind, I chanted, “My Will in service to this flame.”
But I felt barely the faintest trembling in my soul, nothing like the energy from the previous night. In the temple, it had felt as if my body was filled with pure energy. My hand fell to my lap, and I sighed.
“Keep trying,” Mona said. I looked at her and blinked, surprised to hear genuine encouragement from her. I’d expected her to call me a fool again.
I left my eyes open this time but still envisioned the flame in my hand, and the path I hoped it would follow.
“My Will,” I began, speaking slowly and carefully, focusing on what I wanted, on my desire for the hookah bowl to ignite. It wasn’t the same level of motivation as saving Mona’s life, but there was something there, a desire to prove myself and to forget our problems together. “In service to this flame!” I finished, and this time I felt an energy building in my chest, something rising within me.
In my hand, a mote of fire appeared from nowhere. It danced through the air, flying in a gentle arc, graceful and magnificent, before missing the hookah bowl by at least four inches and sizzling into nothing against the metal table.
Still, despite my poor aim, I’d cast the spell. I’d done it. My face broke into a grin, and I looked over at Mona.
Her eyes glinted. “You’ll become more controlled with practice. But you got the idea.”
I raised the mouthpiece to my lips and took another drag before steeling myself to what was to come. I’d stalled long enough.
“Mona, I think we should leave soon. Before the Thaw. Every day that passes leaves us one step closer to disaster. After today, I can’t help but think I’ll be found out sooner rather than later.”
She looked at me for a moment, and her face fell, and that’s when I knew that I’d fucked up. Her hand waved towards the hookah. “But you’re doing so well, Master,” she said.
“We’d always talked about running away. I thought we were on the same page, Mona, that there’s no way I could do this forever. Sooner or later, this charade would have to end.”
“I thought that at first. But last night, when I saw you…” She stared into the clouds above us, and I examined her face closely. I wanted to reach out to her, take her in my hands. “I no longer agree, Master. I think you can do this if you set your mind to it. No wonder things are so astray when even our god has lost faith.”
“I’m not your god, Mona, and as for faith, I never had any.”
“You could find some,” she said, and her eyes fixed upon me intently, desperate for me to understand her. But all I was beginning to understand was that I was expected to sacrifice myself for a cause I didn’t even believe in. “Last night, you showed me that you could make them believe. You made me believe, Master. I believe in you.” Her cheeks were flushed red, and she looked embarrassed by her earnestness. But it wasn’t working on me.
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“I never asked you to,” I said. “I never asked to be worshiped by people who don’t even know they’re worshiping a fake.” I sighed and placed my head between my hands. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t have been brought back to life as a farmer or something.”
“Are you a fool?” she asked. “Do you know what life is like on the farm?”
“I suppose we have different ideas of what that word farm means, don’t we?”
“We have different ideas about a lot of things.” She rolled her eyes. “Whether at the farm or the forge, most demons persist through grueling labor and live in abject squalor. Our only way out of misery is through the military or the priesthood. You know which one I chose.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I take your point.”
“And you, against all odds, were born at the top of our society, the very pinnacle of power and privilege, and you want to run?”
“I want to run,” I repeated, nodding. “Sorry, but it’s like I said. You expect me to lie to everyone forever for the rest of my short and tragic life?”
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” she said, and her eyes looked downward. “And to be honest, Master, when I saw you cast that spell, I wondered if perhaps you were Greg-Theryx after all.”
I laughed nervously. “Uh, that obviously can’t be true because I remember my past life, I remember being human, and I don’t remember going on all those crusades to destroy the gate to the aether, or heaven, or whatever you want to call it. And I don’t remember ordering countless people executed, tossing them down a garbage chute into a fucking black hole, Mona. So I don’t understand how that’s even possible.”
I had to admit, the very idea of it made me angry—the thought that I might have been the actual Dark Lord. I don’t know why I rejected it so fiercely. But something about it made my soul scream in fury. I knew I wasn’t him, and I knew I never would be.
I didn’t know how I knew. But I still knew.
“I understand that you don’t remember,” Mona said. “You don’t remember anything. Because you, Greg-Theryx, in your infinite wisdom—you realized that nothing you had done had worked so far. So you wiped your own memories, in order to approach the problem of our liberation from a new angle.”
“Mona, that’s a stretch and you know it.” It sounded like the kind of thing a desperate person might tell themselves, but I couldn’t think of any evidence it was true.
“Well, then how are you here?” she asked.
“You fucked up your spell?”
She glared at me and poked her finger into my chest. “I didn’t make a mistake. I believed in you, you know. I always have. Don’t you understand? Even if you’d tossed me down the chute, I would have forgiven you for it as long as you did your duty.” She paused, took another drag of the hookah, then offered it to me. But I waved it away. I’d had enough now. More than enough. “That’s how it works. That is what makes it fair. You sit atop us all, and we love you for it because we know that in the end, you will sacrifice yourself for our benefit. That is what it means to be a god. So, if you asked me to sacrifice myself for you in return, I would do it without hesitation, knowing that you would offer your life for me in the end. For all of us.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me,” I said. “I don’t want anyone to die, and I don’t want that kind of power.”
She took my hands in her own, clasping them together, and I felt the warmth in her eyes as she pleaded with me, her desire for me to be who she wanted, who she’d prayed for. But I wasn’t, and I never would be.
I thought of our passion the previous night we had spent together. Looking back, I had deluded myself into thinking we had something we did not.
“That’s why you’re perfect,” Mona said. “Because you do try to avoid harm. I’ve seen it firsthand. I saw it today, even in your ill-advised wooing of the dog paladin.”
“It wasn’t wooing. I’m trying to convince her to talk with us. If she starves to death, she’s useless.”
Mona looked at me for a long moment, considering what I had said, as if she were trying to decide whether I wanted to secretly fuck the paladin or not. “Call it what you will. My point is that I admire your restraint. It is not the way of demons. But we have followed our way for centuries, and where has it gotten us? You are my god and master, Greg. I believe you made yourself into who we needed you to be. I wish you’d start to believe that too. I wish you could see yourself as I do.”
“If I ever do, I’ll tell you,” I said. A quiet laugh, full of tension but devoid of humor, escaped my lips. “I’m not your god, Mona. Or at least, I don’t at all feel like one.”
“Whether you’re a god or not, you certainly have the Will of one. Your hand healed so quickly. You cast the flame binding spell. You have what appears to be a flawless memory even for books you’ve merely skimmed.”
I could sense her frustration with me, and I couldn’t argue with her. Something had changed in me when I arrived here. Even if I wasn’t who Mona thought I was, I wasn’t my old self either, whoever that old self even was. I had gained many things in my transformation, though I couldn’t remember all I’d lost, either.
“I was the fool, this time,” Mona said, after a while, the hookah now lying forgotten, the cloud of smoke thinning around us. “A fool to believe you could be who we needed you to be. When I said I wanted you to be my god last night, I really meant it, but you didn’t seem to understand. I meant that I require you to perform your role if you wish me to perform mine. You can save us, all of us, by being who we need you to be.”
“Or dying in the attempt.”
“If that’s how it goes. After you’re gone, they’ll leave us to our city. The Divine sees no interest in eradicating us as long as you’re gone. No one besides us wants to live here in this desolate place. You’ve already been dead once, Greg. Your life isn’t worth the lives of all the ones who will perish if you flee your duty. If Sun-Domia doesn’t find you, she’ll assume you’re hiding here and raze the city to the ground. It will be much worse than if you die in battle. Greg, maybe I wasn’t clear. For a moment, on that first night, I did consider running away. Not with you, mind you. Just running. I thought you were hopeless.”
“Gee, thanks.” I’d heard enough by now, and stood up as if to leave.
She reached out, her fingers curling around my hand, her eyes pleading with me not to go. And in the look she gave me, I felt weak again. I wanted to please her. But at the expense of myself? I could do no such thing. No one was worth that, no matter how beautiful or how much I desired them.
“But I no longer think that,” she continued, her eyes desperate now, her face pleading for me to listen. “You’re not hopeless at all. I will follow wherever you lead us, Master. I will follow you to my death.”
I shook my head. “That’s my point. I don’t want you to.”
Mona sighed, and her hand fell, releasing me. “Then you don’t truly want me at all. You must not think of me as your companion, Greg. Or your friend. I am a tool, an instrument to be used, and that is all.”
“Is that how you see yourself? I don’t think I could see anyone that way, Mona, and certainly not you.”
“You should,” Mona said through gritted teeth. “It is the only way you will succeed.”
“I don’t think that’s true. And if it is, then fuck it. I’d sooner give up.”
Her anger seemed on the verge of boiling over. “Don’t you understand? If I could take your place, Master, I would in an instant. Don’t you understand how much I envy you? Unlike the rest of us, you have the strength to alter your fate, yet you sit here planning to run from your destiny. A coward, forsaking an oath.”
“I never made any oath, Mona.”
“If you say so. If you insist on running, I can’t stop you. But you’ll have to leave me here.” She had a distant look in her eyes as if she were imagining her end. “When this tower burns, I’ll burn with it.” Judging by the tone of her voice, she didn’t seem to mind. But I found her words unsettling. She didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t know what it meant to die. But I did. It meant the darkness would gnaw at her soul, forever tearing pieces of it away.
At least, that is what death had felt like to me.
“Goodbye, Mona,” I said as I walked away, ducking so I could more easily pass through the silk curtains and out into the dark, empty hallway. My steps were soft against the plush carpet on the floor, and I began to walk back towards the elevator.
Until I felt her hand on my arm and looked back into her trembling face.
“It is late, Master,” she said, and there was a note of panic in her voice. “Perhaps we should put this on hold for the evening and discuss it later? You should know my earlier offer still stands. I will still worship you happily.”
A fantasy of her bent over the bed, ass suggestively in the air, filled my mind. But I blinked my eyes, once, twice, and it was gone. I suppose her overtures had lost some appeal now that I realized more clearly what she expected from me.
I pulled away from her and kept walking, looking down at the floor, my shoulders heavy with regret. This time, she did not follow.
“Ah,” she said, her voice heavy. “I see you’re already running, Greg.”
I had never heard my name said in such a disappointed way. I didn’t answer her. I had nothing else to say. It was clear to me we would not agree.
As I walked out into the hall, past Creech, he stared at me in abject fear, beads of sweat on his forehead. I suppose I must have looked angry or upset—either way, he couldn’t bear the sight of me.
But I paid him little mind as I stepped into the elevator. I considered the buttons for a moment, and I almost returned to my chambers to await my fate in my gilded cell. But then my finger dropped, entirely of its own accord, to the button marked “Archives.” It happened so quickly, almost ahead of my thoughts, as if I were trying to act before I lost my nerve. And so the elevator began to descend, and I left Mona behind.
I had followed everyone else’s lead for long enough. It was time to take some tiny sliver of my fate back into my hands. There was so much work to do and so little time.
I knew I had every right to do as I willed. But if I had never made an oath to Mona, if I had never promised her anything, and if I wasn’t her god anyway, then why did I feel so guilty?