Reunited and it's Just Awful

​3. Reunited and it's Just Awful

Malakar was in the Black Palace, kneeling on the cold soulstone. The floor wept and groaned beneath him. Before him the Heart of Darkness and King of the World, the Great Dread Lord, sat on his cruelly spiked soulstone throne. Well, sitting was a bit much. The Great Dread Lord was a mass of shadow deeper than midnight, in which red flame flickered and boiled like flashes of heat lightning. His true form, it was said, was enough to drive even other demon lords mad.

"Malakar, I'd like to congratulate you on your incredible advances into the study of the arcane," his liege lord said, with a voice like the howl of a thousand tormented souls. "Creation trembles at your intellect, and frankly I have underfunded you."

"Yes, that's very true," said Malakar. "Thank you, my lord."

"As a reward for your service, I am hereby declaring that the entire arcane research wing is now under your total control, and I am doubling your budget. Also, we've thrown Carassiso out a window." A thin wail echoed in the distance.

"Wow, that's great," said Malakar.

"There's really only one problem." The shadows surrounding the Great Dread Lord roiled and bubbled like black smoke. "We're running out of it."

Malakar raised his head. "Running out of what, my lord?"

"Time," said Uriel.

The Seraphim descended from above like a bolt of golden lightning. Malakar screamed as Uriel's spear drove through his chest and pinned him to the floor. Uriel leaned in, the one golden eye in the center of his forehead full of raging light like that of a dying star.

"You're out of time, Malakar," Uriel murmured. "Wake up."

Malakar awoke with a gasp.

He was in a dimly-lit room, lying down on a sofa upholstered in some unidentifiable scratchy material. He looked around in confusion, not recognizing where he was. The furnishings here were sparse, nothing more than a desk, a chair toppled over onto its side, and a bookcase in one corner. He squinted. On the floor were scattered what looked to be miniature versions of the strange horseless carriages the people of this world used for transport. Cars, the slaves of the burger-king had called them. Suddenly he felt a flash of outrage. He must have fallen asleep in front of those two. Had their whoppers been drugged? Had he been betrayed?

Then he noticed a small crouching figure hidden in the shadows, holding something long and sharp.

Malakar shouted and rolled out of the way just as a little girl rushed forward and plunged a sharpened stick into the couch where his chest had been only moments before. She shrieked with frustration and tried to free it, scattering stuffing everywhere.

Malakar rolled across the floor and sprang to his feet. "Carassiso," he snarled.

"Stupid thing!" Carassiso finally yanked her weapon out of the couch—it looked to be one of the legs of the toppled chair, broken off and tapering to a fine splintered point—and turned to face him, breathing heavily.

Malakar took a good look at her. Like him, she had been trapped in the form of a human child. Bronze-skinned, she had long, ghostly white hair, and at her temples there was just the slightest hint of chitinous black horns. Her dress was pitch-black, and she wore a veil that looked as though it were made of spiderweb. The most startling part of her appearance, however, was her eyes. In her true demonic form, Carassiso's eyes had been unreadable, insectile. Now they glared at him, an unsettling yellow, the anger and hatred in them clear as day.

"You couldn't just be dead, could you," she spat, advancing with the point of the chair leg held out in front of her. "Well, Malakar, now that it's just us and the Great Dread Lord is gone, I'm going to do what I've wanted to do from the moment I first saw you. I'm going to kill you and eat your skin."

Malakar groped to his side and, with some struggle, broke off one of the legs of the chair for himself. "You're welcome to try. I'll make your head into my alarm clock. A little necromancy would do the trick! It will be a joy to wake up to your screams!"

With a wordless yell Carassiso charged at him, then yelped as she slipped on one of the toy cars. She went down with a hard thud. Malakar leapt, holding his chair leg high like a club, ready to break in her skull.

"Hey, you two!"

The lights flicked on. Malakar looked to the doorway and froze. Standing there was a very large, dark-skinned man wearing a crisp blue uniform. And it was a uniform; though it looked like none Malakar had ever seen, he could recognize the aesthetics of authority. A badge gleamed on his breast, just below his left shoulder, and beneath that was a nameplate that read Denton.

"No roughhousing!" the man shouted. He crossed the room in two steps and plucked the chair legs out of their hands. He frowned at these, and his frown deepened into a scowl as he took in the torn upholstery of the couch. "You did this," he said flatly. It was not a question.

"Um…yes." If Malakar had his wits about him, he might have tried cracking the man's skull, but his human body was betraying him again. Something about the man's tone, the stern snap of his voice, made Malakar very aware that, if he wanted, this man could easily pick him up and throw him out the window.

It was apparently affecting Carassiso as well, because she added, from the ground, "We're sorry."

"Your parents are going to have to pay for this," the man snapped. "Do you think they're going to be happy about that? Do I have to tie the two of you up? No? Then behave!" He pointed to the cars on the ground. "Play with the toys we gave you, and be quiet!"

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

After the man departed, Malakar and Carassiso just stared at each other for a moment. Neither of them wanted to give voice to the fact that a human had just cowed them so badly.

"Um," Malakar said awkwardly, "that…that uniform…"

"That's officer Denton," Carassiso sighed. She got up and straightened out her dress, then folded her arms and looked away from him. "One of the guard. We're in their barracks."

Malakar ground his teeth. He had been betrayed. Oh, once he got his magic back… "I suppose you've got a seal too."

Carassiso shot him a withering glance. "Of course. Do you think I'd still be in this wretched form if I could use my magic?" She stamped her foot. "Oh, I hate it, I hate it. This body is awful. Only two legs?! The hands are articulate enough, I suppose, but they hardly make up for that." She wiggled her fingers. Malakar was pretty sure they were bending ways they weren't meant to go. "Why did we end up in these forms anyway? Why human children?"

Malakar gave her a condescending smile. "It's very obvious, when you think about it. I don't suppose you've noticed, but despite its appearances, this world seems to have very little available mana. I think almost nothing I've seen is magical."

"Of course I've noticed that!" said Carassiso in a manner that made it obvious that she hadn't.

Malakar shrugged. "We demons are inherently magical creatures. Without the mana to sustain our forms, I think this world forced us into…suitable shapes. Perhaps if Uriel hadn't locked away our magic, we'd look like full-grown humans. But since we're so weak, we appear as children."

"That sounds like nonsense to me."

Malakar felt his face heating. "Well then, what's your explanation?"

"I think Uriel did it," said Carassiso. "I think Heaven wanted to…to humiliate us! Humiliate me!"

"You did a fine job of that all on your own," Malakar said acidly. "You went and got captured by the humans."

"You got captured too, you arrogant…" Carassiso stalked towards him with her hands outstretched like claws. Then, to Malakar's shock, she stopped, her shoulders hitching, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. "We're going to die, aren't we? We're stuck here without our magic, and eventually the angels are going to find us…"

Something about her tears was making Malakar's body want to cry as well. He blinked rapidly and looked at a wall. "We're not going to die," he said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Well, you might, but it won't be Heaven doing it. When we went through the portal, I blew up the portal-caster before I passed out. They won't be able to follow us."

"But what if Heaven already knew how to make portals?"

Malakar scoffed and scrubbed his face on a sleeve. Leave it to Carassiso to be so paranoid. It was true that if they knew how, making a portal was easy enough. But Heaven didn't value research; they were always labeling all the real interesting stuff 'forbidden' or 'profane'. No, if the angels wanted to follow after them, they would have had to reverse-engineer his research, and he had destroyed it. "I'm sure they don't," he said. "None of them have my brilliant mind. Besides, they wouldn't know where we went, anyway. Look, if they could follow us, they would have already."

Carassiso was upset enough to let that remark about his genius slide. "Well, what now?"

"What now? Well, I'm going to find some way out of here. You can…do whatever you please, I suppose. It would be too much trouble to kill you."

"You haven't noticed, have you?" Carassiso stepped closer, a smug smile growing across her face. "You and that brilliant mind of yours."

"Noticed what?" Malakar stepped back. "Stay away from me."

"The seal, you idiot. Haven't you felt it yet? Look what happens when we get closer."

Carassiso took another step closer. Curious, Malakar reached down through the inner darkness where his magic lay locked away. The seal was still there, and yet there was…something different about it. It seemed to hum, and the complex runes scattered across its surface wobbled slightly. It was weaker, he realized. And it grew weaker still with every step Carassiso took toward him. Not nearly enough to break it, of course, especially in his current state; but enough…just enough…that he might be able to squeak out the barest bit of magic.

"It must be some form of arcane resonance," Carassiso whispered, and Malakar nearly jumped out of his skin. She had gotten frightfully close without him noticing. "Perhaps because the seal was applied to both of us at once? Either way, this is the first time I've been able to even consider using magic."

Malakar pushed her away. Immediately the seal within settled back into place with all the heaviness of a mountain, and he was cut off entirely from his magic again. "Oh, this cannot be real," he groaned. "You're telling me the only way we can use magic is if we stay by each other's side?"

"It would appear so. At least for now."

Malakar fell to his knees and pounded the floor. "Curse the fates!" he cried. "Curse them for this cruel joke! I will have my revenge!"

"Hey! Quiet in there!" Officer Denton shouted outside the door.

"Oh, get up, you ham." Carassiso pulled Malakar to his feet. "I'm not happy about it either. But it's better than not being able to use magic at all, isn't it?"

As much as he didn't want to, Malakar had to admit it was. The hardest part of undoing seals was getting started, and Uriel had hit them with one doozy of a seal. Really, it was a stroke of luck that this resonance would make the job easier. Still… "All right, fine. Fine! We'll have to stick together until we manage to break it completely."

Carassiso gave him a thin smile. "Good to see you put that genius of yours to use, finally. Now, let's get out of here."

Officer Denton shifted behind his desk, the chair beneath him creaking as he put his legs up. "No," he said into the receiver held in the crook of his shoulder. "No, that doesn't sound like them. Hair colors don't match. Yeah, it must be dyed. Still doesn't match, though. Alright, keep me posted."

He sighed and put the receiver back into its cradle. He had been keeping an ear out for reports of missing children, but none of the ones in the system matched the two that he was keeping in the chief's office.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Denton leaned back in his chair. He was running out of options. He had looked into any ongoing conventions in the city, too. He recognized cosplay when he saw it; he had a daughter who was into that stuff. He had even called her to see if she had heard anything about missing children in any of her friend's circles, but nope. Nothing. Now he was going to have to find some place for the kids to stay. They couldn't sleep in the chief's office, that was for sure. At the rate they were going, there'd be nothing left of it by morning.

He glanced up as the door to the chief's office creaked open. He watched it swing open and shut, then put his feet down and peered over the edge of the desk. Standing there, side by side, were the two kids. Lord, but their costumes were fancy. The makeup for their horns looked movie-grade. Must have been damn expensive. Well, that was good; if their parents could afford fancy costumes, they could afford the repairs for the chief's couch.

"Can I help you two?" he asked them. "Why are you out and about? You need something?"

"We're leaving," said the little girl. Cara, she called herself. Cara Sisso.

An involuntary chill ran down Denton's spine. Both the kids were weird, but at least the boy was simple enough. The girl had caused a scene when they first picked her up; they had found her crawling around a bodega with her limbs bent all the wrong way. A couple of customers had fainted. They had nearly called an ambulance for her before she got up and put herself together, pretty as you please. He still remembered the awful cracking sounds. Multi-jointed, he had told people as he ushered her into his car. Some kids were just born like that.

"Leaving?" he said. "No, sweetie, I don't think so. I still don't know where your parents are—"

Cara leaned forward. Denton's heart leapt into his throat. Her eyes were pitch black. Before he could scream, a wave of dead, mute calm washed over him. All fear drained away, along with all emotion and thought. He sat back in his chair, hands hanging by his sides limply.

"We are leaving," said Cara. "Our parents are right outside. They told you they were coming to pick us up. Don't you remember?"

"Yes," Denton said numbly. As a matter of fact, he didn't remember that at all, but that was okay. It had been a command, and all he knew was that Cara was to be obeyed. His mind dutifully began growing the memory.

The little boy stood on his tiptoes and peered over the desk. "Oh, and one more thing," he said. "I want you to jam that into your skull."

The boy was pointing at the chair leg that Denton had taken from him, propped up against the wall. "Yes," Denton said numbly, grabbing it.

"No! Stop that!" Cara hissed. "Malakar, we can't just kill him!"

"Why not?"

"Because we're hiding, you moron! Don't you think if they come in and find a corpse, and us gone, they'll wonder what happened?"

"Carassiso, it's been such a long day. You have no idea the…the indignities these humans have put me through. I need to see one of them die."

"You don't think I would like that? I'm thinking about killing them constantly. But we need to lie low!"

"Fine! Fine! But you know, you'll never live a full life if you're afraid all the time."

"Shut up and stop distracting me! We barely have enough power for this as it is. It probably wouldn't even have worked if he wasn't so tired. You, Denton! Don't kill yourself. Our parents came and picked us up, you understand? Tell that to anyone who asks!"

Denton blinked. He could have sworn he was just talking to someone, but no, he was alone.

He felt something sharp tickling him beneath the chin. To his shock, he found that he held a broken chair leg with a long, sharp splinter right where his throat met his jaw. Lord, what had he been thinking? He could have really hurt himself like that. He tossed it aside, embarrassed. What was he going to tell the chief? Somehow, he had let Cara and Malak's parents come and pick them up and totally forgot to tell them about all the damage to the chief's office. How had he let that slip his mind? Probably just working too late.

Well, he'd be damned if he was going to let the repairs come out of his paycheck. With a grunt, he tapped at his laptop's keyboard, brought up an accidental damage form, and began filling it out.