Fallen Pride - 10. Chapter 10

Jahke purred as Sitka ran a hand down his spine. Shindae growled in an appreciative manner at the effect this had on their kiss. The horned demon whispered something dirty in his lover’s ear, and Jahke chuckled into Shindae’s mouth before taking Shindae’s clawed hand and pressing it firmly into his own crotch. Shindae’s fire-marked skin glowed.

“Mmmm...”

“Happy there little boy?” Sitka rubbed against his lover.

“I always like doing this.” Jahke could have been referring to any number of things. He reached for both demons, and palmed their very different erections appreciatively.

“Is that right?”

“It reminds me of our first time.” Jahke twisted in their hands and kissed Sitka’s jaw, holding him by one spiral horn. “In the library.”

“Oh it was a lucky day when we found you alright.” Shindae grinned, and began to lick down the column of Jahke’s pale throat in between words. “I’m so glad I let Sitka keep you.”

“Like you had any choice.” Sitka began to efficiently strip his nubile lover out of his meagre clothes. “All the wraiths in the outer circles couldn’t drag me away from you.”

“Awww...” Jahke turned, blushing attractively, to kiss his lover.

Shindae was about to object to their romantic interlude, when the front door slammed open and stood empty for a moment before the Prince of hell strode through in a whirl of feathers and palpable rage. Normally an unexpected visit from the Prince would be welcome. There would be food, sometimes palace gossip they wouldn’t otherwise be privy to, and usually excellent sex, but Nassau did not look in the mood. The three demons paused in their movements to watch the Prince stride across the hall and storm up the stairs.

“That can’t be good.” Sitka managed to tear his eyes away from his lover to glance up at the ceiling.

“Uh-uh.”

“How long until the sound of breaking things?” Jahke asked.

There was a crash and the sound of splintering wood.

“Ouch.”

“Let’s go hide in the den,” Shindae suggested. “I do not want to be here when they come back down.”

*

“And what exactly did you think you were doing?” Nassau thundered. He strode up and down Kiorl’s room, his wings held half open and tense behind him. “I asked you, nicely I might add, to show the new demon the ropes and teach him how things are done. The next news I get is that you’re Upstairs, wreaking havoc, laying waste to whole populations, and getting drunk!” Nassau whirled on his friend, who was half hiding behind the ruins of what had once been his sofa. “Explain yourself!”

“Nas...”

“Don’t you dare!” Nassau glowered at him. “You might be my oldest friend, but believe me when I say I am disappointed in you.”

Kiorl dared to meet his friend’s eyes. Nassau’s inner storm rolled and raged, and more than the pressure in the back of his head from using too much magic too fast, the pounding pain of his hangover, and the dread shame in the pit of his stomach from having to be fetched by his house mates, knowing his oldest and greatest friend was upset with him was the worst feeling Kiorl had ever known.

“I can’t do it!”

“Why not?”

“Nas?” Kiorl hid his face in his hands and groaned. “How can you ask me to teach him? He hates me.”

“He doesn’t even know you.” Nassau sighed and sent a quick swirl of magic around the room, picking up the throws and cushions his anger had sent flying. The sofa was not beyond saving, but Nassau knew his friend preferred his furniture a certain way, and left it in pieces. “You’ve hardly spent any time making a good first impression.”

“And how is this for a first impression?” Kiorl’s anger pushed through his misery. He strode across to his mirror and glowered at his reflection. The white four fingered hand print on his cheek stood out starkly against his fur. “Nassau look at me!”

“It’s not nearly as bad as you think it is.”

“Nassau!” Kiorl stroked his fingers over the mark, trying to blend his fur with his hand. “You really think he’s going to want anything to do with me. Every time he looks at me, this is all he’s going to see.”

“Don’t make opinions for him,” Nassau said unhappily. “You’re always so good at that.”

“Don’t make me do this Nassau.”

The Prince of hell turned to his friend, and folded his wings. Power flowed through him, and suddenly he looked every inch of his title.

“Would you rather I had someone else train him, and he never thought of you again? I am your Prince, this is my order. Do it. Take him Upstairs tonight and teach him how to collect souls.”

Kiorl inclined his head, knowing there was no argument when Nassau pulled rank.

“Yes sire.”

After Nassau left, Kiorl had spent a little while reconstructing his sofa, changing the formation slightly until it was practically the size of his bed, and covered it with a few extra furs and throws. Then he went to his extensive wardrobe to get dressed. Kiorl was as eclectic with his taste in clothes as he was with his decorating, and he rifled through the wardrobe for a long time before settling on something practical, stylish, and outlandish. A knee length black leather kilt with a series of studded belts to hold pouches for a portal stone, soul tokens, anything useful Kiorl wanted to bring back with him, and a scabbard for a long straight bladed dagger. An assortment of amour pieces in steel and hard leather were added, each held in place by it’s own strap, and a not quite floor length cloak with a deep hood. Kiorl regarded himself in the mirror as he fixed his hair into it’s complicated many-layered braid, then took an empty Reliquary from the long shelf and stowed it away before leaving the room.

He knocked on the white wooden door.

You’re hoping he’ll answer it naked. Kiorl’s inner voice smirked at him. Or you’re hoping he’ll answer it in the sort of see through garments Jahke is fond of and ask you to rip them off.

You’re not helping, Kiorl growled. I’m just gonna teach him like Nassau wants.

He’s never done a bad thing in his whole life, and you think he’s going to start with you?”

He must have done something bad, the panther reflected, or he wouldn’t be here.

The door opened. As soon as he saw Kiorl, the angel’s pupils narrowed to slits.

“What do you want?”

“Nassau sent me to take you Upstairs and show you the ropes.”

“He sent you?” The boy glared at him.

“Yes. Get dressed and come on.”

The door slammed in his face. Kiorl snarled.

Maybe now would be a good time to use some of that charm you’re so famous for? The voice sounded so much like Nassau that Kiorl couldn’t be sure if the Prince was listening in, or if his internal monologue was just really good at playing tricks on him.

Kiorl sighed, and rapped on the door with his knuckles.

“I’d like it very much,” he spoke through the door, “if you’d come Upstairs with me.”

There was a very long pause, and then the pale young man reappeared.

“If you try and touch me again, I will hurt you.”

“Alright. I would advise some more robust clothes. It tends to be a bit messy Upstairs.” Kiorl tried out his least overwhelming smile.

Lahja glanced down at himself; a small frown appeared between his eyebrows. Kiorl was gripped by the temptation to soothe it away, but he stopped himself.

“Apparently everything I own is white.” For a moment, the young demon looked up and their eyes, so similar, met as he smiled. Then Lahja turned to wrap Nassau’s thick cloak over his shoulders, and Kiorl felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of him.

He finds out you’re feeling like that, I think a slap will be the least of our problems.

Lahja walked with him through the house and out into the world Kiorl lovingly called home. It was a nice day in hell. There was a hot swirling breeze, carrying with it the burnt taste of the distant mountainous fires and the tang of new rocks being born, and above them, the camp-fires burned brightly.

“Has anyone given you the tour yet?” Kiorl asked genially.

“Kiaza told me stuff on our way to the garden.” Lahja shrugged like it was nothing, and for a moment the gesture seemed somehow magnified. Kiorl couldn’t help but stare at the space above the boy which had moved, but the angel misinterpreted his look. “I know all about those. Jahke lent me a book from his office. Damn silly legend really.”

“Sorry?”

“You can’t really believe the souls of dead demons live up there. It’s ridiculous.”

Kiorl gazed skywards. Few people made studies of the camp-fires, but Kiorl knew, and could pick out, one that had appeared above the palace at the moment Mattias had died.

I’m counting on it. He turned to the man who walked with him.

“But believing the person you call ‘god’ created heaven and earth in seven days is totally rational?”

“I have never seen any evidence it isn’t so.”

Pious bastard. Kiorl growled in his throat, and resisted the temptation to wipe the confident smirk off Lahja’s beautiful face.

“Only because he never lets you guys do anything. And he did create heaven, though I’m going to guess it took him a lot longer than seven days, the same as Sathriel made this place, but earth is a totally different thing.”

“Well who made it then?” Lahja clearly wasn’t expecting an answer.

“It made itself, just like every other planet in the multi-verse. I hate to shatter your world view kid, but there are a lot of places we can go that have nothing to do with the earth you think is the only source of life in the cosmos. We bring stuff back from different worlds all the time. After all, where did you think those apple-peaches you’re so fond of came from?”

Lahja was silent for a long moment, and gaped at him. Then the fallen angel’s innocent expression snapped down into one of annoyance.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’.”

And they walked on.

They didn’t meet many people on the way to the portal, but everyone they did meet paused briefly to bend their heads, or whatever appendage passed for a head, and stepped aside as Kiorl swept past. After the fourth such event, Lahja deemed that he could speak to the panther again.

“What are you? Important or something?”

Kiorl knew that though he was physically strong, he was by no means more visually impressive than many other demons. Many were larger, had more obvious weaponry than his sheathed claws and short fangs, and were physically terrifying to those who weren’t expecting them. But apart from Nassau and Sathriel, no one outranked Kiorl. He turned to Lahja.

“I am a major demon, and a member of the Royal Court. If the Archangel Gabriel walked past, you’d bow too.” Kiorl felt rather pleased with himself and smiled.

Lahja glared.

“Heretic.”

“Demon,” Kiorl countered readily. Trading insults was something he could do all day. “We’re here.”

The West portal was by far the most impressive, and the busiest, being positioned between the scavenger stores and the most numerous group of houses out of direct sight of the palace. The portal was a doorway twelve feet high and eight feet wide, looking out into utter and total blackness. It was as though someone had cut a hole out of the fabric of reality and framed it in an arch of rough black basalt. There were always guards on the West portal, and they were usually of a better caliber than the type Shindae could pull away from their posts.

“Evening sire.” The Minotaur inclined his head slightly, then stopped dead and stared at Lahja. Most people had largely ignored Kiorl’s cloaked companion. As the big bovine elbowed the other guard, recognition passed across his features. “Hey look.”

“Hello Kiorl.” Shax bowed deeply, but smirked. “Interestin’ company you’re keeping today.”

“And I understand we’re still not trusting you to go Upstairs.” Kiorl glared at the lesser demon. “You’ve always been a useless excuse for a demon Shax. Pull yourself together boy, or I’ll see to it you end your days harvesting the reaping fields, and you won’t be able to take your horn-polish with you.”

Shax looked angry, but stared hard at the floor.

“Where to sire?” Graccas grinned at his companion’s dressing down.

Kiorl tilted his head and considered his numerous options. Tempting as it was to destroy everything Lahja had ever known by dumping him unceremoniously in the middle of a world so far removed from earth he wouldn’t recognize a thing in it, Kiorl knew it wouldn’t help the good impression he was trying to make on the boy. He reached past Graccas to the dial, and began to turn the concentric rings with a few simple flicks.

“Oh, nowhere special.” He held out his hand to Lahja. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not touching you.”

The former angel stared at his outstretched palm like it might be somehow toxic, and swept past him without even the hem of his borrowed cloak brushing Kiorl’s fur. It seemed the boy could be as haughty as Nassau when the mood struck him.

“Lahja,” Kiorl sighed. Turning to his charge, his exasperation melted into mounting fear as he saw Lahja had one hand on the edge of the portal, a breath away from stepping through. “Wait!”

He snatched the back of the heavy wool cloak, and the bright light of Lahja’s anger was instantly snapped shut as the movement pitched them both through the gateway between worlds.

Lahja’s half scream and Kiorl’s shout reverberated off the stone of the West Portal, and Graccas looked faintly worried under his horns and deep brows.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself,” Shax sneered. “Probably.”

“He’d better not hear you.” The minotaur replied, settling himself once again into is on-duty stance. He wondered how long it would be until the shade got himself bumped back Upstairs. Graccas resolved to try and wheedle a new partner or at least a change in schedule, back at the office. He hoped nothing too awful happened to Kiorl. The last thing any of them wanted was the Prince in another of his moods.