“Did you know about this?” he said, practically collapsing onto his butt by the fire, folding his legs underneath him, then digging in. “Just like in the movies, where people eat stuff out of cans by the campfire under the stars.” He pointed at the purple bonfire, eyes huge, as if only just realizing it was there. “Just like in the movies!”
I rolled my eyes. Somewhere in the room, I sensed that the witch was rolling her eyes, too.
“You. Pretty boy, with the long hair. Come get yours.”
Grudgingly I picked myself up and trudged to the kitchen. Normally, I had servants to ply me with food, even spoon viands into my mouth if I didn’t feel like moving my limbs. This, of course, wasn’t normal for any of us. I groped about in the half darkness, finding the kitchen as my eyes adjusted. The witch shoved a can into my hands, the spoon already sticking out of it. She thumbed over her shoulder.
“And all the water you can drink, over there.”
“Thank you,” I said, as firmly and politely as I could manage. “You’re very generous.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving her hand. “The least you could do in return is be generous about answering my questions, right?”
“Fine,” I said, sighing, leaning against the counter as I peered into my own can of pork and beans. “What did you want to know?”
“More about you as a mage, for starters.”
I shrugged, stirring the beans, watching them spin in the can in a wet, thick slurry. “I don’t know. I suppose you could call me a sorcerer. I like to think of myself as a magus.”
“One of them dudes who specializes in books? Eldritch knowledge and all that shit? Sure, sure. I get that.”
I took my first ever mouthful of room temperature canned goods, the tang of tomato sauce spreading across my tongue as I bit into a mushy cluster of beans. My eyes widened in amazement. How could something taste so repulsive, so pedestrian, and yet be so delicious at the same time? I chewed quickly before my brain could catch up, before my stomach decided it couldn’t tolerate food that had lived on the inside of a metal coffin, possibly for several years.
“The whole notion of magical education, you know?” I called out. “I mean, I know it sounds tedious and boring, but studying magic, absorbing it bit by bit, building your arsenal of spells? It’s a surefire way to get better at it.” I was technically telling her the complete truth, even with regards to the Inscription.
“Oh, I’m with you, buddy. I never went to school or anything, self-taught. What about you?”
I swallowed some more beans, having decided that they were, in fact, more delicious than disgusting. I licked my spoon, smiling with remembrance. “Madame Grayhaven’s School for Gifted Boys.”
Pierce groaned out loud, then spoke through a mouthful of beans. “Don’t get him started. He jizzes his pants every time he talks about his stupid academy.”
I pointed my spoon at him like it was a wand. “I will not have you slander Madame Catherine Grayhaven’s teachings. That place made me the magus I am today.” I took some pleasure in leaving Dantaleon out of the equation completely. In fact, I hoped that he was listening. “Their library alone was magnificent. The most comprehensive collection I’ve ever seen.”
“Very interesting,” the witch said. “But if you’re some big mucky-muck magus, how come this is the only book you have?”
“No!”
The can of beans and plastic spoon would have left my hands faster if I hadn’t bothered to set them down on the counter first. I knew I still wanted to eat when I was finished wringing the witch’s neck. She was holding Dantaleon. Touching him! I sprinted towards her, wondering whether I’d have the opportunity to rip the tome out of her hands before Dantaleon burned the skin right off her fingers.
Too late.
A torrent of hellish light poured from Dantaleon’s pages as an unearthly shriek and a hideous wind ripped through the building. He spun in an ominous orbit, pages rustling and flapping as he levitated above the witch, above us all, his voice booming.
“Foolish human. Filthy guttersnipe. Mortal wench. You dare lay your hands upon a servant of the great and terrible Asmodeus?”
The cement squeaked against the soles of my shoes as I ground to a halt. Pierce kept shoveling beans in his face, his eyes huge as he took in the spectacle. The witch’s eyes were huge, too, but not in fear. It looked like awe. No. Delight?
“Whoa,” she cooed. “Asmodeus?”
“Asmodeus,” Dantaleon thundered back. “Unholiest of Wombs. Mother Harlot. Demon Prince of Lust.”
“Demon – hold up.” The witch’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she glanced from Dantaleon, to Pierce, then me. “Wait. You guys are demons?”
Oh, shit.
17
Night had fully fallen. The air by the river was cooler, a soothing shroud. More important, though, was the fact that Dantaleon and I could have a little privacy there while I harangued the living daylights out of him. Emphasis on a little, though – both Pierce and the witch were still hovering nosily at the doorway, itching to eavesdrop on our argument.
“Just what the hell were you trying to prove in there?” I hissed. “Why would you go and reveal something so damning about us?”
“I may not have a body, Quilliam, but I am still a master of seduction. Perhaps if you’d paid greater attention to our lessons, you would have grasped what I’ve done. Well and good that you spent all those years at that precious academy your mother sent you to, but to what end?”
“Don’t be disgusting about this,” I said, thrusting my finger at where I guessed his face would be. “And don’t you dare slander Madame Catherine Grayhaven. Half of what I know, I learned at the academy.”
Dantaleon sniffed. “Clearly she didn’t
