CHAPTER 8

Sounds of ripping flesh, cracking bones and unseemly slurping echoed through the near-deserted hall. Teeth tore through skin and muscles alike. Powerful jaws snapped spines to get to the marrow inside. Black fingers rent whole carcasses apart. One dead body had not finished disappearing inside the dark beast’s gullet that another was set upon voraciously. Unstable piles of remains already climbed nearly to the ceiling. Splashes of red bestrewed the stone floor and well-worn wooden furniture.

A sense of tension permeated the air. Men and women skulked in the shadows, clinging to the fringes of the room for fear of disturbing the ravenous creature. Conversations were kept to whispers.

“How many has it been?”

“Someone needs to take care of this mess.”

“Are you crazy?! I’m not going. I don’t want to get eaten!”

“Eeep! Don’t say that!”

“Did you hear what she did?”

“Fifty men…”

“I heard it was a hundred.”

“…heavily armed battle mages from the continent…”

“They said it was a dragon. Half the forest was burned down.”

“Idiot! There’s no way there was a dragon here!”

“That’s what Joe told me!”

“Joe wouldn’t know a dragon from a seahorse if it was stuck up his butt crack!”

“What’s going on here?!” The doors to the hall banged open, and everyone turned to the lean, sharp-featured middle-aged woman who barged in. Even the beast glanced up, though never stopping her feast.

The woman’s hawkish glare zeroed in on the whispery group. “You lot! You’re not being paid for gossiping, so get me those empty plates back in the kitchen this instant before I stuck you on peeling duty until your fingers fall off! And someone, clean up that spilt wine! Come on! If you wanted to be fishwives, you should have stayed down in Landing!” She watched the men and women scamper to obey, gathering the towering heaps of empty dishes and running back through the door she had come through.

When they were gone, the woman rolled her eyes and approached the gluttonous eater. “How are you enjoying your meal, love?”

Samael grinned back and raised a half-shredded chicken leg. “Ish ‘a bft foo’ Af ‘ver ‘ten!” she exclaimed. She had not waited to swallow to answer, and bits of roasted poultry scattered all over the table. Far from getting offended, her interlocutor looked amusingly flattered by her enthusiasm.

She cackled wryly and sat down opposite Samael. “It’s great to see a woman with a hearty appetite. You’d swear all these priestesses are two hundred pounds overweight and on the verge of cardiovascular arrest with how little they nibble. I swear to the goddess, the next one who returns half their salad, servant of the divine or not, I’ll have them scouring the pans for a month! That’ll teach them some actual humility better than years meditating on those stuffy old books.”

“Ca’do’cular ‘rest?” Samael sputtered along with more chicken meat.

“What? You think this ol’ cook’s too basic for some fancy words? Well, you’d be right. But you don’t hang around these scholarly medic types without picking up stuff. Hah, but I babble. You don’t care about this old grump’s yammering, and I didn’t come to complain.”

Her weathered face turned serious. She leaned over the table. “I wanted to thank you in person, in the name of all Temple attendants, for saving little Sophia’s life. The girl’s like a daughter to a lot of us. We’d all have been heart-broken had something happened to her.”

Samael tried to answer but instead choked on a chicken bone. She finally got it down with a big swig from a wine bottle. The empty container joined several if its dead siblings. Despite the impressive count, Samael’s amber eyes were as clear as ever.  She broke into a broad grin. “It was no biggy… err… ma’am.” Gabriel had impressed upon her to respect the elderly. “I’m happy I saved her.”

The cook laughed. “Call me Hertha.”

“Sam.”

“Well, you seem like a good lass yourself, Sam. I’m glad I could talk to you.” She stood. “Thank you again, and may the goddess bless you.”

The demon shivered instinctively. “Ah, I’d rather not.”

Hertha’s sharp feature stiffened, and her smile fell a little. “Oh… Well, I shall pray for you still. Have a good meal.” Shaking her head, she walked away just as two men entered the mess hall, carrying a large tray of venison dripping with sauce. Samael’s eyes bore into it almost lustily, and drool pooled inside her mouth. She hurriedly licked the dish that had contained her chicken and picked off the table the bits that had escaped her to make room for the new arrival.

Thoughts of the weird woman were already forgotten.

When Samael left the mess hall an hour later, all the cooks sagged in relief. A couple of them fainted, and two more fell into each other’s arms crying. One stood staring at a wall, the sparkle of life extinguished from his eyes. Even Hertha could only swear perplexedly at the carnage that had been wrought upon her stocks.

Oblivious to the traumas she left behind, one happily stuffed demon almost felt like skipping—almost. She was way too full to even move with her usual grace; her distended stomach looked especially ungraceful. Never before had she been exposed to food like this. The taste and texture went beyond anything in her experience. She could not have enough. Only when her insides refused to stretch anymore had she finally surrendered.

It has to be said, neither Lucifer nor Gabriel knew the first thing about cooking. Primordial beings like them did not need physical sustenance, so why would they? They had tried, of course, for Samael’s benefit—but in vain. Lucifer did not have the patience for it, and somehow, everything Gabriel prepared would start glowing. The one time Samael had tried her aunt’s cooking was the time the young demon had come the closest to death.

Gabriel was henceforth banned from touching dinner.

Since Samael’s laziness was comparable to her father’s, raw meat had been on the menu more often than not. Admittedly, the lower reaches of Tartarus were so hot that the meat of its inhabitants was naturally done rare. It still could not compare to the work of a professional cook.

Thus, Sam was currently experiencing an existential bliss that otherwise only ascetic monks could attain after a lifetime of contemplative meditations.

She had reached enlightenment.

“Pfffhihihi…”

Her foray into a higher level of consciousness was, however, interrupted by familiar giggles.

“Shhh! She’ll hear you!”

While lost in food nirvana, Samael had been wandering through the Temple, distractedly observing the sights and people… and generally ignoring the band of children tailing her in a frankly appalling display of stealth. Did their guardians not teach them anything? They wouldn’t last a day in the wilderness… A day could be too generous.

Now, the humanlings were back and hiding behind a wall, a few yards back to her left; and apparently, they were under the impression she had not noticed them. Presumptuous little buggers. A malicious smile lifted the corner of Samael’s mouth.

Then she took off running.

“She’s getting away!”

“Get her!”

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“Catch the monster!”

At the next intersection, the demon veered a sharp left, then another left, and a last left, bringing her behind the pursuing children. Who’s the hunter now, eh, runts? She laughed to herself. She was not being especially quiet, still impeded by her gluttonous feast, but human children seemed as deaf as their adult counterparts.

She caught up to the gang without them noticing.

“GRRAAAAAAAAH!!! I TOLD YOU I’D EAT YOU!!”

“““AAAAAAAAAAH!!”””

The startled kids looked back, saw her, and immediately ran away screaming. At least they’re learning. The merry demon gave chase.

Roaring, she snatched one of the stragglers, picking them right off the ground. She kept her strength in check, of course. Humans were simply too fragile, and she did not want to damage the little ones—even if they did look deliciously tender. Thankfully, the demon was not hungry right now, so that particular dilemma could wait.

“HIIIIIII!! NOOOOOOOO!!”

“AH!! The monster got Rosie!”

“It’s too late! We can’t save her!”

The child in her grasp was shrieking at first, but she quickly stopped when she realised Samael was not hurting her, only to then turn around and point eagerly at her comrades. “Get them! That way! That way!”

Do humans turn on each other that fast? Perplexed at the little turncoat, Samael quickly shrugged it off as another mortal weirdness. She relocated the girl on her shoulders and continued her hunt. With her new diminutive pack mate providing direction, it was easy to round up all the children.

“Behind the hedge! Capture the demons!”

“Waaah! Rosie betrayed us!”

“You left me behind first! By doing so, you’ve revealed your foul nature, demons! Now I have tamed the beast and came back to enact vengeance! I am the Great Paladin-Inquisitor Rosie of Diligence! Fear me and my dragon steed! Yaaah!”

“Raaaaaaawr!” Samael roared helpfully.

“You’ll never get us, Inquisitor! Mwahahahaha!!”

“Get them! Get them!”

Each time Samael captured a kid, she brought them to a rectangular lawn which Rosie had declared a Holy Prison. There was no fence of any kind to keep them there. It was just a random patch of grass framed by low box hedges. But as if through a tacit mind hive understanding, the children seemed to have agreed to certain complicated conditions to allow their escape or not. Samael still ended up having to catch the whole gang three times over.

Eventually, older humans came over to pick up the children. They thanked a rather confused Samael for playing with their kids and apologised profusely for the trouble. The demon was not sure what trouble they were talking about. There was no trouble. She had been having tremendous fun. She had never had playmates before.

She said as much, which oddly prompted several women to hug the baffled young demon. A couple of them even shed tears.

Humans are weird.

Many parents also took the opportunity to thank her for saving Sophia’s life, or “Lady” Sophia, as they called her. It seemed the young priestess as universally loved by the people there.

“Noooooo! Onyxa! Don’t let them take me!” Rosie’s father was among the last to arrive. He struggled to take away the girl, who had attached herself to Samael’s thick leg like a sticky koala. She finally relented when the exasperated man threatened her with snack withholding—a tactic even the demon found cruel to the extreme. Rachiel was right. Humans should not be underestimated! She had thought most were kind and cute, like Sophia, but already they had proven to be both vicious and opportunistic.

When Rosie’s father finished apologising for no reason and dragged the pouting girl away, Samael was again alone and aimless. The exercise had helped her digestion, and she did not feel so bloated anymore. Her earlier bliss had dissipated, leaving once more full range to her curiosity. The sun was still high above the horizon. Based on her previous day’s observations, it would be some time before it set and she finally got to see what a funeral was all about.

Samael found herself in a vast, artfully designed garden surrounded by beautiful attached cottages—all built in the same white stone omnipresent in the Temple. Smartly trimmed shrubs, clean lawns, wicker arches, budding flowerbeds and a couple of fountains formed at landscaped tapestry centred around the colossal sculpture of a woman.

She knelt on a pedestal, facing up to the sky with her hands spread out and raised in supplication. This statue was truly tall, almost twice as big as Samael’s human form. Its face reminded her of someone, but from this angle, it was challenging to make sure. Samael decided to climb and get a better look. Walking up to the foot of the statue, she leapt on the pedestal, then grabbed the statue’s hand to pull herself up.

Crack!

With a sharp breaking noise, the demon dropped back to the ground. Stunned, she stared down at the large white thumb standing out in her pitch-black palm, then up at the stone hand to which it used to be attached.

“……woops…”

Approaching loud footsteps sounded out of a nearby street. Panicked, Samael looked around, considering the shrubs and flowerbeds. Finally, she just picked up the pedestal, lifted the statue off the ground, shoved the broken thumb underneath and dropped the everything back on it. “No evidence, no crime,” that’s what Dee always says. Of course, the statue was still missing a thumb… but that could have been the handiwork of any other passing clumsy demons. Yep. Got nothing to do with me. Could have been those kids. They were mischievous, the kind who’d steal a thumb. It was definitely not me. I’m a demon. Do demons usually cause trouble? …Well, I don’t know. But I’m innocent.

The statue dropping back down was not quiet, but hopefully, nobody would notice.

She was not a second too soon, either, because the steps revealed themselves as Janik, still in his uniform. The man looked haggard, a ghastly pallor to his face which even his large beard failed to cover. Nevertheless, he smiled and waved when his tired eyes found Samael.

“Ah, Lady Magus, I was told you might still be here.” He paused and looked around confusedly. “Did something happen? I hear a loud noise of some kind.”

Samael offered her most innocent smile. “Ah, I… tripped.” Discretely, she scattered some dirt with her foot, attempting to hide the traces of the dust blown away by the falling pedestal.

“I see…” Janik’s bushy eyebrow rose a notch as he quietly considered Samael’s height and girth. It certainly made some amount of sense, although his good manners prevented him from agreeing too visibly. No woman would want to be told they weighed as much as a small war mammoth. “Err… ahem… It was… very kind of you, ma’am, to play with the children. Their parents all lost friends today. They needed some time to themselves and to be with the mourning families.”

Samael did not hold in a frustrated sigh. She could not understand why all these people were so intent on thanking her for every little thing. She did those things for her own selfish reasons. It was awkward to receive so much verbal praise for stuff she did on a whim.

Back at home, even when she completed nigh insurmountable tasks set by her father, Lucifer only rewarded her with a pat on the back. And Gabriel was even more avaricious in compliments during her lessons, simply expecting her niece to be excellent as a matter of course. Her way of reward was usually to allow Samael to nap in her fluffy wings, which suited the young demon just fine.

In contrast, humans and their need for constant social yapping felt just plain weird.

She fidgeted, rubbing her forehead vexedly. “I enjoyed it very much. I don’t need thanks.”

Completely misinterpreting her discomfort, Janik nodded his respect for her humility and turned away not to embarrass her. He looked up at the sculpture dominating the garden.

“Hm?” His brows suddenly furrowed, and his beard quivered confusedly. Something’s not quite right here. The veteran’s keen instincts were calling to him. He stared intently at the statue, oblivious to Samael who all but whistled innocently with a bead of sweat on her temple. As the saying went, however, people often failed to see the forest for the tree. Sometimes the most obvious was the most easily overlooked, and the frustrated Janik could not manage to put the finger on what was bothering him.

He eventually brushed it off on account of being on edge from dealing with the family of the deceased guards. He sighed tiredly and focused on the statue’s turned-up face. His back straightened as his expression became one of reverence.

“This is Saintess Tephania Lehtinen, founder and first high priestess of the Fair Isle Temple. She heard Goddess Rachiel’s call and came to this deserted island a thousand years ago to create this sanctuary of healing. She was a great woman. Even on the mainland, there are stories of her virtues that circulates to this day. I sometimes come to this garden when I am unsure. I feel as if by standing here, I can share a little of her ancient wisdom.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “…You must think me an old fool. Seeking wisdom in statues when there is a real goddess I could ask for counsel.”

“Not at all.” The certainty in her soft bass voice brought Janik’s stare to the tall dark woman’s profile. Samael was also looking intently at the praying Tephania. “There is power in places, and there is power in beliefs. Combining the two doesn’t sound foolish at all to me.”

She looked down at the older man. Their gaze met. Staring into her amber eyes, he saw something old in there, something primal and powerful staring back straight to his soul, like a burning hurricane reaching in to gently cup his core. The touch was warm and delicate, but he felt that if he were found wanting, he could be crushed in an instant like an insect and consumed by the fire.

Then the tall woman blinked. “Well, at least, that’s what my aunt would say.” She broke into a wide grin, and just like that, the moment was over, leaving the former soldier in cold sweats and doubting what he had seen. And yet, a feeling of peace lingered with him. He felt lighter, as if the weariness of life weighted less on his shoulders. Over the next weeks, he would come to realise the old guilt from his army days did not burden him anymore. He had been judged and passed the test.

But right now, all he could do was return Samael’s contagious smile.

“Your aunt sounds like a wise woman.”

“The Wisest.” Samael’s grin broadened. Suddenly, she realised whom the statue was reminding her of. She turned back. “Lehtinen… that’s the same as Sophia.”

“Yes, of course it is. The name has been passed down the maternal line. Lady Sophia Lehtinen is the thirty-eighth generation descendant of the Saintess.” Janik said it with a funny sort of paternal pride. Although he quickly deflated when he realised his declaration did not provoke the amazement he was expecting.

“Ehhhh... That’s funny,” was the extent of Samael’s reaction. “Well, if she was Sophia’s ancestor, she must have been a good person.”

The older man nearly tripped while standing still. His beard quivered in indignation. Making the parallel is fine. But people would usually think the other way around!! However, seeing the large barbarian woman bow her head reverently to the statue, his offence on behalf of the ancient Great Saintess rapidly faded. Oh, well… I suppose it’s fine…

Had he been able to hear Samael’s thoughts, he would have spat blood instead.

Sorry about the thumb, Sophia’s grandma.

* * * * *