Without giving the details of the exchange that had led up to Dad’s apparent recognition of both of us, I told the elder who was visiting us that afternoon what had happened, using general terms. I privately thought the ‘elder’ part was a bit misleading, since the man who’d knocked on the door and asked to see my father was perhaps in his early forties.
Still, he seemed kind and knowledgeable. He also seemed much more interested in helping Dad than in prying up gossip-worthy details about my background and presence here in Hell. That alone was enough to earn him serious brownie points in my book.
Li Wei was Chinese, and while no one in Hell was in the business of handing out advanced degrees in psychology—or anything else—it was clear from his manner and the questions he asked that he’d made quite a study of the human condition during his life. Or, more specifically, the titheling condition.
“I find it encouraging that he has shown recognition on two separate occasions,” he said. “I think it may be beneficial for you to speak to him as often as possible, asking questions and reminiscing about the past.”
I nodded, since that made sense. I’d heard the same thing about coma patients and people with traumatic brain injuries. “All right. I can do that.”
“Perhaps we could also get him out of the hut for a little while every day,” Li Wei continued. “A change of surroundings may help to draw his focus outward.”
“I can do that, too.” I’d noticed that the people here used the word ‘we’ a lot, when talking about projects or things that needed to be done. It was different enough from my experience living in the human realm that it still tended to throw me.
Li Wei tilted his head, considering me. “With all this focus on your father, may I ask how you are faring here? I may not have lived on Earth in a very long time, but I gather it’s quite a different place than our little corner of Hell.”
The question warmed me. Something about Li Wei just seemed to inspire confidence, so I decided to ask a couple of the questions that had been burning holes in my mind.
“I’m... hanging in there, I guess you’d say,” I told him—mostly truthfully. “I’ve got a couple of questions, though, and I’m not sure if they’re offensive or not.”
Li Wei’s eyebrows went up, and amusement crept into his tone. “Intriguing. Go ahead and ask, in that case. I’ll do my best not to show any affront.”
“Right,” I muttered. “First question. The demon that visited us this morning. She... he? Argh. Succubus pronouns.”
Li Wei snorted at my verbal floundering.
“Anyway,” I went on, “this demon has... a history with my family, as you might have gathered. He offered to try to help Dad by forming a soul-bond with him and pushing healing energy on him, whatever that means.”
At that, Li Wei looked surprised. “Indeed? That’s a rather unusual offer.”
I nodded. “I wondered if it might be. Nigellus said demons didn’t generally bind tithelings. He made it sound, if not taboo, then at least as if it was frowned upon.”
Li Wei made a yes-and-no gesture with one hand. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. It just doesn’t really come up very often. With limited exceptions, the demons mostly let us be. They help us when we need assistance with something, and they provide us some extras like textiles, and metal, and blood wine, but there’s not a lot of contact beyond that.”
I filed that information away. “All right. So—don’t get me wrong. I’ve got no reason to suspect this demon of anything more sinister than wanting to help. But, just so I have a better grasp on what he was offering, could you tell me a bit more about soul-bonds? Specifically, with someone like my father who has some mental... issues, could a random demon just swoop in one day and bind his soul?”
Li Wei laughed softly. “No, no, my dear. It doesn’t work like that. Not at all. A soul-bond requires the genuine consent of a mentally competent human. Now, to be fair, mental competence in this instance is judged magically, rather than by some set of arbitrary tests. But the short answer is that your father would have to agree to the binding and truly mean it, or it couldn’t happen.”
I relaxed marginally. Without meaning to, I found myself thinking back to that hazy, pain-filled day in the Fae Court when Rans had stormed in like an avenging angel and swept me into a life-bond.
If you want to get out of here alive, trust me and swallow, he’d said as he pressed his bleeding hand against my mouth. And... I had. There’d been a choice, of sorts—I could have turned my head away and spat out his blood. But I’d also had no idea what I was agreeing to. As genuine consent went, that seemed pretty iffy to me.
“How sure are you about that?” I asked.
Li Wei looked taken aback, but to his credit he appeared to give his answer serious thought. “I’m... not quite certain how to answer you. It’s the understanding I’ve always had, and I’ve never encountered anything to make me question it.”
I could’ve pressed him further, but it didn’t seem like there would be much point. Besides, I had another question that needed an answer sooner rather than later.
“Okay, let’s leave that for the moment,” I said. “My second potentially offensive question is about sex. Specifically, about the attitudes toward it here.”
The older man raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’re in Hell, so...”
I snorted. “Right, but I’m going to need a more detailed answer than that. I’m guessing everyone here knows what I am by now, since gossip seems to travel at the speed of light in this place.”
I could feel my cheeks heating, but Li Wei gave an ‘ah’ of understanding.
“You are speaking of feeding as incubi and succubi do?” he
