CHAPTER 16

“I’m tellin’ ya’ll, that cloud is acting funny!” On a small fishing boat moored in the harbour of Fair Isle Landing, a crew of three was busy offloading the day’s catch. The older one, a skinny fellow, was yammering while he struggled to lift another crateful and had been for some time.

“But yes, of course, Barry.” His youngest colleague replied tiredly and grunted, picking up another crate and heading for the gangplank.

Huffing and puffing, old man Barry followed him onto the pier. “Dun’t sass me, Larry lad! It’s been followin’ us!”

“Yes, Barry. That’s what clouds do,” said a third man. “They move around.”

“Well it ain’t movin’ like it sh’uld! You knows what I’m sayin’, Jerry!”

“No, I truly don’t. It’s the possessed seagulls all over again, Barry!”

“Them damned birds were givin’ me the stink eye!” Barry dropped his burden on the wharf planks and spat on the floor. “Rats of the sky, that’s what they’re! Instruments of Evil! They ain’t natural! I’m tellin’ ya’ll!”

“Yes, Barry. You told us already.” Larry’s youthful voice was laden with irony. “And Mrs Barns turns into a giant sea monster comes the full moon.”

“I seen it! With these two very eyes!”

“And yet,” Jerry interjected, “you’re always first in line to eat up her pies.”

“Ain’t nuthin’ the matter,” Barry retorted defensively, stepping up into Jerry’s face. “Just ‘cause Ol’ Dick married a sea witch, the pies ain’t at fault. The pies are innocent!”

“You’re the innocent,” the other snickered.

“G-G-Guys…” Larry’s sudden stammer interrupted the bickering friends. “The f-fish!” He pointed behind the two.

The fishers turned at once and saw Barry’s latest crate had vanished. All three rushed to the edge of the pier to stare into the water. But the box and its content were nowhere in sight. Yet, they were alone in this section of the docks. At this hour, most local boats were still out at sea, and the merchant ship Beatrice was anchored further up north, near the gambrel-roofed town warehouse.

Larry and Jerry exchanged a worried glanced then looked up at the clouds. Barry signed himself feverishly.

“The devils’ work!” he cursed.

How does he know?

Sitting amongst the seaweed-coated beams underneath the pier, Samael listened curiously to the panicking men above while stuffing her face with cods and haddocks.

A while earlier, when she reached the docks, the demon had belatedly recalled Sophia’s talks of commerce and metal bits. The whole thing still seemed very much absurd to her. But she recognised the people there would likely refuse to give her food since she had none of these shekels and minas, as Sophia called them.

Of course, those little, fish-stunk men could not stop this mighty devil from taking whatever she wanted. Sadly, Samael knew Sophia would disapprove of her creating a scene. And as long as it did not become too much of a bother, she saw no reason to upset her pet priestess.

She had her pride, though. Returning with her tail between her legs to beg the sweet-scented brunette for metal scraps simply would not do. Besides, what Sophia did not know could not upset her, could it?

It worried Samael a little that the skinny human had instantly guessed her identity as the culprit. But the deed was done, and she was not giving up her food. She would think of a way to silence the man and his friends later.

Or she could deal with a pouty priestess for a little while. That seemed funnier and altogether less bothersome.

Besides, was it not Sophia’s fault for failing to provide Samael with the metal bits she needed? Of course it was. Samael was not to blame—not at all. And who was it who insisted on going to places where Samael was forbidden kill anything? Sophia again! As a matter of fact, who forbad Samael from killing things? Sophia, again!

How was a demon supposed to feed herself when she could not hunt? Ridiculous. Of course Samael was blameless.

In a way, it was as if Sophia herself had stolen the fish by preventing Samael from lawfully buying it. What an inconsiderate woman.

Satisfied with her reasoning, the demon consumed her haul without remorse.

The fish was fresh and like nothing she had ever tasted—full of brittle bones and slimy goodness. Any vaguely similar beast in Tartarus would have been tough as rocks and prohibitively tricky to catch. But from what Samael had heard and observed, these Midworld sea creatures simply swam straight into the humans’ nets without realising.

Just how stupid are these things? Maybe this was the secret to the humans’ survival, despite their pitiful senses and skills: every creature in the Midworld was as inept at survival as they were! Yes, that makes sense.

Done with her meal, Samael stuck the empty crate between two beams and let herself drop into the calm waves licking at the wharf. The water swallowed her without a sound.

The demon’s powerful limbs propelled her smoothly across the murky bottom of the harbour, through a forest of kelp teeming with small life. Tiny colourful fish circled around her, crustaceans drifted in the currents, and translucent jellyfish tickled her in passing. Forsaking the shortest route, she swam lazily between the shellfish-encrusted pillars that supported the jetty. She savoured the feel of liquid coolness on her skin—so much more pleasant than acid, tar or lava, even despite the coldness.

Truth be told, the cold was more of an annoyance than a real issue. She only had to expend a little more energy to keep herself warm.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She emerged at the far end of the dock, beyond the big ship Sophia had pointed out, and behind a cluster of rocks where she had hidden her clothes.

After Gabriel’s and now Sophia’s incessant lectures, Samael had decided to treat her last few sets with a little more care. Making more outfits was always a possibility, but the process was a real chore for which she had no patience. What’s more, with the creatures of the Midworld being all so small, there was no telling how many she would need for even a simple coat. Their hide did not feel all that sturdy either.

Climbing onto the rocks, she shook the water from her hair—also ejecting a family of stowaway shrimps. She batted a jellyfish off her shoulder and peeled off a starfish that had somehow ended up on her hip. Vines of kelp remained draped around her torso like a vegetal sash. She ripped them away with a frustrated click of the tongue.

“Eeh haw! Eeh haw! Eeh haw!” Slei laughed at her from a nearby boulder.

“Haha. Yes. Very funny,” Samael deadpanned with a glare.

The donkey had followed her out of the healing house as soon as she took off. While his bottomless stomach might lead him astray at times, the infernal beast endured separation even worse than she did. Unlike her, however, he was not a fan of water and chose to remain on shore, where he had been grazing on algae while Samael explored the harbour.

And now, he seemed to find her current predicament hilarious.

He stopped laughing when Samael tossed a crab at his nuzzle. The pinchy critter had been dangling from her ear, and it promptly latched onto Slei’s nostril. “Eeeeeeh HAW!!” The startled donkey kicked the air and whipped his head around. The crab eventually flew off, skipping on the water several times before sinking.

The mischievous devil was still guffawing when she summoned a quick wave of fire to evaporate the water off her body—and, in the process, also flash-cooked a pair of stubborn crustaceans. Once dry, if a little salt-caked, she fetched her clothes. The coarse leathers were uncomfortable to slide back into. Samael was still unused to how restrictive they felt, although she welcomed the extra warmth. Just because keeping herself warm was nigh effortless did not mean she liked having to do it.

She picked the roasted shrimps off her mane and popped them in her mouth. They crunched under her teeth. She licked her lips. “Salty.”

The fish had taken the edge off her hunger, but the pit inside her continued to ache dully. She toyed with the idea of going back to snatch another barrel, but she dismissed it right away. Even Hertha’s cuisine, as bloated as it made her feel, had not fully sated her—not really.

The demon hungered for something else—but was confused as to what. All she had to guide her were vague instincts. Her aunt’s teachings exclusively covered morality and social interactions, and Lucifer’s advice on most subject amounted to a pat on the back and telling his daughter to trust her gut.

Samael loved her father, but he frustrated her sometimes.

So, despite her satisfying snack, the demon had a disgruntled grimace on her face when she peeked from behind her temporary hideout. Slei’s head poked out right beside hers, still mechanically munching on rockweed.

After confirming the coast was clear, they seamlessly reinserted into the scarce pedestrian traffic—as seamless as could be the sudden apparition of a red-haired inky giantess and a deadpan mule. People turned to stare, but the pair ignored them.

Despite Samael’s little escapade, not much time had actually passed since they parted with Sophia. Through their bond, the demon could feel the priestess had not moved much yet; and so she decided to sightsee some more before heading back. The foreignness of the town continued to captivate her inexperienced mind. That held true even as she rapidly discovered she preferred the untamed wilderness over the humans’ claustrophobic deadwood-hives.

Don’t they ever feel oppressed, being so tightly packed against each other?

The dock took up the entirety of the town’s waterfront, which was half the inside of the round bay. Seaward, two prominent rocky ridges closed on the way to the ocean like the pincers of a giant stone beetle. The wide wharf spread out far into the water. Houses had begun creeping onto the well-trodden planks, making it hard to tell where the land ended and the pier began.

The buildings there were in an even worse state than in the deeper belly of the town. Here and there, a fresh coat of paint stood out, but these colourful touches made the rest of the worn-out façades all the bleaker. The shutters and doors had corroded hinges. The chimney pots fell apart. White spots grew on the wood like an ugly skin disease. Even the few elements of stone looked gnawed at.

A few wobbling boats and skiffs hung tightly to the jetty, thickly roped at mooring posts. The bulk of the Beatrice dwarfed them all. However, even the proud vessel appeared tiny to Samael’s sense of scale—which had yet to downsize to the Midworld’s standards. The merchant ship nevertheless remained one of the biggest and most complex artificial structures the demon had ever seen, and she was suitably awed.

In sharp contrast to the dreary harbour, most of the people going about their day looked peacefully happy—as if blind to the state of their surroundings. They don’t know anything else, Samael remembered Sophia’s words. In a sense, neither did she. This was her first time seeing a mortal town.

But the demon had grown up travelling plains of pure obsidian, climbing burning mountains that touched the roaring clouds, sleeping in caves of red crystal and swimming up torrents of molten metal. She knew of beauty, in its strongest, most violent and primal form. Although she could appreciate the ingenuity of them, these flimsy constructions battered by the elements did not appeal to her at all.

With that said, she was still very curious—in a pitying, appalled and bewildered sort of way.

A few notable exceptions to the general blissful attitude were the people assembled around the Beatrice. Not that the sailors looked miserable, but they clearly wished to be elsewhere. There was also a trio of men prostrated near a small fishing boat, fervently praying to the sky. The devil passed them without looking, as she obviously had nothing to do with the situation.

“Hm?” Samael and Slei both stopped as one and turned their nose in the same direction.

A delicious smell was wafting through the air, undeterred by the ubiquitous stench of fish. It was coming from somewhere south-west, away from the harbour. Without much thought, both demons spun around and headed in that direction. Samael was already salivating, and Slei was downright drooling on the ground.

They tracked the smell to a secluded house at the edge of town. An open trapdoor at the bottom of the front wall led into a dark stairwell. The mouth-watering aroma rose from down there. Samael jumped into the hole eagerly, and Slei appeared beside her as soon as she landed at the bottom.

The cellar was dark, with no other light than what streamed in from the outside. It did not matter for the demons, who zeroed in on the source of the smell then stopped dead in their track.

“What the fuck is that?” Samael cursed.

On the ground, dripping blood into weird furrows in the dirt, was a headless chicken.

“……”

“……”

Annoyed, Slei kicked the dead bird, but all it did was limply roll away.

As soon as it did, the smell instantly vanished.

“What the…” Samael started.

Metallic chimes and a flash from above interrupted her curse. She was blinded for half-a-second before her eyes adapted to the sudden brightness. Looking up, she saw glowing white squiggles now covered the ceiling and that a shimmering translucent wall encircled her and Slei. She poked it, and her hand was shoved back in an eruption of white sparks.

“Ow,” she muttered, shaking her hand. “That’s not nice.”

“It’s useless. This sacred barrier cannot be broken by the likes of you, demon!” a voice boomed around them.

At that moment, a figure walked through a door on the other end of the cellar, holding a long staff topped by metal loops that jingled with every step.

“I’ve got you now, demon!”

Samael looked at the newcomer and scratched her cheek.

“Err… Is this about the fish?”

“………no?”

“Oh, good then. Because I definitely had nothing to do with it.”

“……”

“So, what’s this about?”

“……”

* * * * *