Following in Pierce’s excitable footsteps, I stopped just as he pressed his open palm against an invisible wall of force. He unsheathed one of his daggers, cutting at the air. Something changed in the environment as the barrier between dimensions sighed and fell open, creating a doorway to earth. In one smooth motion, he spun the dagger between his fingers, slipped it back in its sheath, then made a low, mocking bow.
“My Lord,” he said in a husky, trembling voice, holding a hand out towards the doorway. “After you.”
I wanted to kick him in the balls. “Fuck off,” I mumbled, sweeping past him. Pierce always thought he was so funny when he called me that. He chuckled in response.
“We wouldn’t have to do this song and dance if you’d just learn to properly teleport us,” he said in a singsong voice. “No ‘You first’ and ‘After you.’ Just the right incantation and we pop into existence.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“Listen.” I paused at the threshold, turning around to stab a finger just inches from his face. He stared at it, then up into my face defiantly. “You know as well as I do that teleportation magic is difficult, and dangerous.”
“Aww. If even human mages can do it, then surely you can, too, oh great and powerful Lord Quilliam.”
I shoved him in the chest. “Stop calling me that. Everyone’s good at different things. I just happen to be good at burning, okay?”
He bowed again, parting his arms and sweeping them low. “If my Lord insists.”
Pierce could be such an asshole. “I swear, my first act will be to send your sweaty ass to the bottom of the ocean, the very moment I master teleportation.”
He folded his hands behind his head and laughed. “Excellent. Then I should be safe for at least the next hundred years.”
“You’re such a bastard, Pierce. Now, come on. We’ve got work to do.”
The flames and violet energies of the Hexus melted away as we stepped through the doorway and onto the earth plane. Replacing the vortex of chaos was the chirping of crickets and a cool breeze. It was a chilly evening in California, on the outskirts of a little city called Valero.
Not a foot away from me, Pierce was hugging his elbows, his breath coming in rapid stutters. I cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned. He was wearing an open vest, form-fitting jeans, and not much else.
“You always forget to dress sensibly,” I said, tutting and shaking my head. “I know it’s California, but it does get a little cold at night.”
His forehead furrowed as he scowled at me. “Who said I was cold?” he breathed unconvincingly, shuddering.
I pointed at his chest. “Pretty obvious. Your nipples are frozen solid.”
“What?” he looked down at himself. I flicked my finger across his nose as he lowered his head. Pierce yelped, grabbing at his face. “Hey, quit that!”
“Just getting you back for being such an ass.” I looked around, my hands nice and toasty in my pockets, the rest of me comfortable in a light jacket, incubus fashion trends be damned. “So this is the place, huh?”
Pierce rubbed at his upper arms. “It’s a dump. Might as well set it on fire.” He glanced at me, then quickly looked away.
“Oh, wow. You really are cold. Just say it.”
“Never,” he growled.
“Whatever,” I said. “I was going to lend you my jacket, but you’re being such an ass about it. Suppose I’ll just light this shack up and warm us both up that way.”
The Thirteenth Choir’s hideout was a dump. The Hexus had taken us outside the place, an old, presumably abandoned farm a few miles out of the city. Only a few spots looked like they’d been supplied with enough electricity, mainly the farmhouse itself and the nearest barn. I had to assume that we’d find the bulk of the cultists there.
Pierce and I had conveniently arrived in a wooded area, letting us scout the place from a safe distance. Sure, it’s all well and good to go in guns blazing, a style that we were fond of and familiar with. But this assignment had come directly from Mother, someone who was invested in testing us – or at least me.
Why did she want us stopping a cult in the first place? Maybe this Thirteenth Choir really was worshipping one of the other princes. This probably wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill operation. Speaking of mills – they had a grain silo. Excitement tingled up the base of my spine as I caught sight of it.
There were a couple of things I knew about silos. The first is that they’re generally as big as shit. The second is that the particles in the air inside – flour, grains, even plain old dust – meant that they were highly flammable. So, so very flammable. My fingers twitched as I bit my tongue and held back the urge to create a fireworks display with the tiniest bolt of flame.
And yet the littlest bit of me was unnerved by this entire expedition.
It wasn’t the challenge, exactly, that got to me. Not even the danger. I relished in both. Dueling with magic had always been one of the best ways to get my blood pumping, the ironic closeness to death being the thing to make me feel most alive. The stark reality was that Asmodeus had raised me to be a ruthless killer, someone who could rain fire from the heavens and burn towns, cities, nations to cinders. And not to brag, but I knew that I could. The question was whether I wanted to.
Confession time. I’d never truly killed before. Not on purpose, at least.
Fine words from someone groomed and destined to be the Prince of Lust’s general, and magus warlord who was too afraid
