“Fine,” the rat demon said, “They caught her years ago. The dark coven found out how to work the Eye of Malachi gates. Lured her in. The Dark Master gathered the lords and they spelled her. Put her under their control. Powerful magic. Subtle, too. Lady Alexandrite never suspected.”
“Demons aren’t supposed to serve non elementals,” Hilario said.
Queezleyan grinned, showing off a mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth. “Who says I’m not,” it said, “I didn’t spell her. I’m just doing what she says.”
Hilario ground his teeth. Demon logic. Always slippery.
He sat back on his haunches. Glanced up to the front of the van where Larry–Lord Igidbon sat. Through the windshield he caught the deep purple pulse from the tower. There wasn’t time for unraveling the dark lord’s machinations.
He turned his attention back to the little six-tailed rat demon. “If the Sapphire Witch is returned to her self, are you bound to obey her?”
The rat demon squirmed. The beady yellow eyes darted about.
“Are you?” Hilario said.
“Yes, damn you clown,” Queezleyan said, “The Great Demon Mother bound me to the Gem Witches. I must obey them.”
“Good to know,” Hilario said.
He stuffed Queezleyan in the bloodwood box and slammed the lid shut. He slid it over to Detective Marco.
“Keep hold of that,” he said.
He turned his attention back to the Sapphire Witch. Dare he try this? Who was he to try and break the dark lord’s spell?
The Sapphire Witch moaned. Her head rolled back and forth. Her skin was shiny with sweat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She was fighting it.
And the spell was fighting back.
It had to be incredibly powerful to be holding her. And all he had was a shrinking reserve of light energy. The distilled joy of children.
He took a deep breath. There was only one way.
Oh, this was another bad idea. Why was he going with so many bad ideas?
What choice did he have?
Chills ran over his skin as he dropped his mental shields.
He reached out with trembling fingers. Put them on the skin below her goggles.
It was like getting hit between the eyes with a sledgehammer.
Somehow he held on.
He unlocked his reserve of light energy. Sent it up to his eyes.
The windows of the soul.
He pushed up the Sapphire Witch’s brass-rimmed goggles.
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The Sapphire Witch was beautiful.
And naked.
Gloriously naked.
Suspended in the air, arms outstretched. Dark hair flowed out from her finely shaped skull.
There was nothing around her but light. Light of every color streamed toward her. Blended to an aurora of pure white around her (very, very, very naked) body.
Her eyes were squeezed closed. Her delicate features strained.
There was a sound in the space they were in. A pounding.
Not a heartbeat.
Drums. Being furiously beat upon. A rain of violent noise.
A sharp contrast to the beautiful light around her.
And there was a distant odor, too. A taint. Like rotting carrion. Like burning garbage. It soured the air, but wasn’t bad enough to make anyone gag.
Not yet.
The Lady Sapphire’s wrists and ankles were circled with black bands of iron. Another band sat around her delicate throat. As he watched, her muscles twitched and flexed as she strained against the bonds.
Oh dear.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though.
No, the worst part was the depressing realization that he was naked, too.
Apparently the inside of Lady Sapphire’s mind was a clothes free zone. How embarrassing. His five hundred pounds of flab probably made him look like the universe’s most lumpy and misshapen planetoid ever.
What a poopity poopington pooptabulous situation.
He didn’t even have his makeup any more. All his armor was gone. His gloves. His clown uniform. His wig.
All he had was acres of exposed, blotchy skin.
There wasn’t even a towel to hide his tiny shame.
And if the Sapphire Witch were to suddenly wake, what would she think of this most intimate of intrusions?
She certainly wasn’t going to think: Hey big boy…
He pushed the thoughts aside with vicious force. It was more than just the lonely shreds of his dignity now. More than just his personal space.
A city of (sort of) innocent souls depended on him to pull a miracle out of his massive posterior. So quit being afraid and do something, silly clown.
He reached out for the Sapphire Witch with his thick, sausage fingered hands.
Paused.
Maybe he should take a moment to alter his appearance? Lose a few hundred pounds? Grow a leonine mane of hair? Transfer some of his girth elsewhere?
He snarled to himself.
Idiot. Focus.
The spell was working on him. Trying to twist him. Trying to snare him.
Honesty. All he had was the purity of his own self. Cottage cheese thighs and all.
He focused himself down again.
Reached out for her. Braced himself for the kickback.
Fingertips lightly touched her face.
Relief flowed into him.
Relief and joy.
Her mind connected with his. Not a harsh, bitter presence. Not the haughty royalty he expected.
But a kind, loving, welcoming soul.
He felt her distant anger. Her rage and despair. But they weren’t directed at him.
And the realization almost made him weep. For once someone wasn’t angry at him. Wasn’t disappointed in him.
Wasn’t disgusted by him.
Her voice, gentle, but tinged with desperation, came to him…
Break the iron…it binds me…the spell…
He bent his head to look at the band of iron around her neck. The metal was etched with ancient runes. Words of power. Some he could make out. Others were…different. Almost a corruption of certain symbols.
The dark lords had help in their diabolical spell.
How was he going to break it? He wasn’t a wizard, a mage or even a lower class apprentice.
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