Demon Singer II (12 page)

        "No miss, I'm Noale Sabre, acting as Regent until the politics of finding a new ruler have concluded." Sabre lowered his proffered hand.

        "New ruler?" Dread groped Ruby's heart as confirmation of the meaning of the four black drapes hanging from the front of the palace hit home.

        Markhato had four kings.

        Unwilling to stretch the moment, Ruby forced the words out. "Is my grandfather dead?"

        "I'm sorry, Miss Ruby," Noale said gently.  "I'm so, so sorry."

        Ruby cried.

*   *   *   *   *

        “You kicked a hornet’s nest, Man.”

        The voice startled Gar. No small feat,  he hadn't been startled in years. He looked up to see a stocky figure standing before him.

        “I don't mind hornets, they're small and insignificant. Like men. Which I'm not by the way.” Gar replied, scrutinizing his visitor closely. Stocky build, long beard, the tools hanging from his belt, all screamed dwarf in a way that almost felt racist.

        The dwarf shrugged.

        “You used to be a man, you look like a man, you deal with men. My name is Ligny Hefit, I am the future king of the Markhato dwarves.”

        Gar shrugged back.

        “I don't care who or what you are, half pint, be on your way.”

        Ligny vanished, sort of. Gar could tell he was still there, he just couldn't quite see him. The future king reappeared next to Gar with a knife pointed at the zombie boss’ eye.

        “We have business to discuss. You will listen.”

        Gar moved much faster than seemed possible for someone of his considerable size and snatched the dwarf up by his neck, smacking the knife away.

        “You should not have come alone.”

        “I'm not alone,” the dwarf replied, evidencing no concern over his predicament.

        I'm going to break your teeth, rape your face and then eat you.” Gar said conversationally. “I think I'll start at your toes, then work my way up. On the bright side, you're short so it won't be a terribly long meal.”

        Gar found himself startled once again as Ligny vanished and something that felt suspiciously like a sledgehammer smashed into the his nose. He released the invisible dwarf involuntarily and Ligny reappeared a few feet away holding a sledgehammer.

        “Stop acting like a foolish man and pay attention, we have important business to discuss.” The dwarf insisted sternly, no trace of fear or unease on his face.

        Gar chuckled as blood gushed from his ruined nose. The result of an exploded squirrel fell from the tree above them. Ligny raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

        “I like you Ligny Hefit, future king of the Markhato dwarves. What business would you like to discuss?”

        “The time has come for the dwarves to evict men and take control of Markhato ourselves. I can get you inside the city, past the security measures. You will flood the city with more zombies. At the same time you will attack the main gates.”

        “I don't have many zombies with me,  and even if I did, that sounds like a tremendous waste of product. Why would I agree to something like this?”

        “Because if you do, I will provide you with the agent of the zombie maker Bonen Tansyon.”

        “I don't care about Bonen Tansyon or her zombie.”

        “You should.”

        “Why is that?”

        “Because she makes a better product than you. Because you burnt her home in New Orleans to the ground almost two hundred years ago, leaving her for dead. And because she didn't die. She's rebuilt her house and is strong enough that you would be wise to find her before she finds you.”

        “I killed her once,” Gar said, “I'll just kill her again. I don't mind, it was fun the first time.”

        “That won't be so easy. I also know what she really is and how she makes her zombies. I know many things. I will share what else I know after you launch your attack on Markhato.”

        Gar considered smashing the dwarf and being done with it. He found Bonen Tansyon in no way intimidating. Although, if Ligny could supply him with her zombie recipe, that alone could be worth the trip.

        “That's all mildly interesting, Ligny, give me her zombie recipe and we'll talk.”

        “She creates zombies from living humans using their own souls.”

        “Impossible. The zombification process doesn't work on the living. It requires a corpse, which has no soul. That's why it requires a sacrifice.”

        “She is a demoness. The most powerful demoness ever I'm told.”

        Gar rolled his eyes.

        “Funny thing about demons, they all claim to be the most powerful demon ever. She might be able to hold souls long enough to power her zombies, but that does me no good. I'm not a hellion, I can't touch souls.”

        “I have a way around that.”

        Gar gave Ligny Hefit his most skeptical look. That was a bold claim.

        “I still don't have enough zombies with me to do what you're asking. The nearest sources to make more are the cemeteries inside the city.”

        “I can get you to those.”

        Gar considered carefully. Typically he would not even consider any venture that wasn't a sure thing. The prospect of learning Tansyon's secrets, though, that was appealing. He had few regrets, but that was one; killing her before torturing her secrets out of her.

        “Okay, let's give you the benefit of the doubt, here's my counter offer. Give me access to those graveyards as well as
proof
you can make Tansyon's formula work for me and I'll introduce Markhato to horrors they have never imagined. But if you want me to withdraw afterwards, I want her agent and something more.”

        “What?”

        “You're well-informed, I want the location of a thieving swordsman named Fugue. He's the bastard who-”

        “Who sold your product to Markhato.” Ligny cut in. “Why? He's nothing.”

        “He's the reason I'm here in the first place. A message needs to be sent. Those are my terms, what do you say?”

        “Done.” Ligny turned abruptly and walked away. Suddenly better than a hundred dwarves materialized just past Gar's campsite and followed their leader away.

        “Guess he really wasn't alone,” Gar grunted.

Chapter 9

        Lyric had traveled extensively for the Guild and had seen numerous supernatural creatures; some looked human, some strange, some downright horrifying. Even among the supernatural, the blue men were unique. Their skin was brilliant blue and smooth. They had no body hair and the hair on their heads and faces was all manner of colors. Upon closer inspection, there was a depth to their skin, a translucency that seemed to allow you to see beneath the surface.  This gave their tattoos, which were many, an appearance of floating above their flesh. Their alien appearance seemed to be magnified by the very mundane detail that they all wore everyday clothes like cargo shorts and t shirts.

        The captain spoke in his lilting Scottish brogue.

        "Where is young Ervin?"

        Lyric blinked at that.  Even before knowing the man had lived for more than a thousand years, he wouldn't have called Ervin young.

        "Ervin is missing," the Singer replied.  "He sent us a... message, telling us to find you. We need passage to Ireland."

        Glas glowered at Lyric.

        "How did the lad send you a message if he's missing?" Glas asked suspiciously.

        "It was prepared before hand." Lyric shrugged.  "Can you help us?"

        "Not so fast," Glas held up a hand with unusually long fingers.  "If young Ervin sent you, he certainly told you something of our ways:

       A thousand fathoms deep the night

        We chanced upon Blackbeard's Delight.

        A noxious stench, the blue men cried

        We would rather smell low tide

        Think careful now on your reply

        Be quick and clever, lest you die

        Can your mind, a rhyme devise

        That brings the tears into my eyes?

              What can you offer as reply?"

        Acheron laughed loudly drawing the eyes of all the Blue Men to the fascinating effect it had on her chest.

        "I've seen that movie." She whispered loudly to Lyric.  "You should try to come up with a rhyme about sex panther cologne."

        Lyric puzzled over Acheron's reaction picking up flashes of a mustached man in a three piece suit.  No help there.  He focused on a valid reply. Something clever and unexpected to make the captain laugh.

        "Night will pass, and passions too

        When sunlight shows the ugly truth.

        Last night she seemed so sleek and fair

        But now you see her facial hair.

        So the warning to this tale

        For every lad, hearty and hale:

        Too much drink might get you screwed

        Maybe by a hairy dude."

        Now it was the captain who guffawed.  

        "Well done! But what do you know of regret in the daylight, lad?  Look to the company you keep!  I think there'd be no regrets in a morning with these lovelies." He gestured to Acheron and Cadence. Acheron winked and Cadence smiled politely.

        "Will you take us to Ireland?" The Singer asked loudly, trying to be heard over the loud approval of the ship's crew at their captain's ribald comment.

        "Ireland? Why do you want to go to that bedamned place? Scotland is your destination.  Everything you might need can be found in the land of the lads of the mountain and the mist."

        "That's very poetic, sir," Lyric agreed readily. "But Ireland is where we need to go."  The Singer tried to focus on his conversation with Glas, but Cadence's distress was growing by the second.  His heart started racing, his mouth went dry and his lips and fingertips went numb. He realized he was dangerously close to a full on panic attack.  He struggled to send a sense of peace and comfort to his friend.  

        The tall Blue Man gave Lyric a measuring look.

        "You Singers are arrogant. You and young Ervin think you know better than I do, child, so I'll take you where you ask. And when you find heartache and brokenness there, you'll wish for this moment back. You'll wish you had let me take you to a tiny island south of the Minch."

        Lyric was mystified by the captain’s words, but rather than contest them, he broached the topic of payment.

        "Tell us how you like to be paid, sir.  I haven't much, but perhaps I can satisfy your price."

        "Bah!" The Blue Man scoffed.  "You sang the song, you answered my rhyme.  Your payment is complete.  Besides which, I'm in debt to your master a good piece.  No talk of payment, we're already on our way.  She may be made of ice, but you should find the Gaoithe Mhín comfortable enough. We use warm ice." He stabbed a large finger at Cadence's pale face. "That one needs to settle down though, my men are sensitive to tension and she's worse than a reality show star about to get voted off the island."

        "How much tv do you
watch
?" Acheron wondered.

        "We like American television. There's a giant flat screen being built in the mess hall as we speak. If you want to change the channel you'll have to wrestle Lachlan for the remote."  Glas said seriously. "Otherwise plan on watching a lot of Gilligan's Island."

        
Cadence, I can help you relax if you let me
. Lyric thought at his friend.

        
NO!
 Cadence protested.  
I'll be fine.  Just let me acclimate.

        I'd be happy to play doctor with you.
Acheron's less than helpful thoughts chimed in.  
I guarantee you'll be relaxed by the time I'm done with you.

        Acheron offered some distracting mental images of herself and the Verger that made Lyric blush and Cadence growl in annoyance.

        
I don't intend to ever be that bad off, Acheron.
Cadence managed to convey her contempt clearly.
If I am, you have my permission to kill me.... a lot.

        
The exchange took only a moment, but Glas noticed.

        "Whatever nonsense is going on between you three, take it to quarters. I don't need Days of Our Lives on my deck."

        He beckoned to a deck hand with unusual red skin and ordered him to show them their quarters.  The young man led them astern to an enormous suite of rooms.  Lyric was impressed at the tremendous amount of technology the Blue Men were capable of harnessing with their ice magic.

        "These are Ervin's regular quarters. A bit cramped, but hopefully they'll serve until we make port." Green braids sounded apologetic. Lyric barely registered the young man's words as he pondered the distinct lack of blue pigment in his skin.

        
Stop staring, it's creepy.
Cadence managed to think at him in the midst of her terror.
He's a Quiet Man. He still has his heart.
 Lyric quickly looked around the room.

        "I think this is more than fine, thank you.  I don't know what to tip you. Do you use money?"

        "No," the Quiet Man smiled kindly. His friendly expression was so completely at odds with the demeanor of the rest of the crew it caught Lyric by surprise.  "There's no need to tip, but if you know a small song..."

        "A song? I can sing you a song. What would you like?"

        "I'd like a flashlight."

        Lyric stared at the man blankly.  The affable grin on the other's handsome face said he wasn't making a joke.

        "Um, perhaps there's a language barrier here. A flashlight isn't actually a song."

        Green braids looked at him like he was simple.

        "No it's not, you are correct. It is a simple battery-powered device that emits light from a small bulb attached to a mirror." he smiled in a manner Lyric could only interpret as encouragingly.  "But you're a Soul Singer, you can make a flashlight with a song.  Ervin taught Angus a flashlight song, Angus won't teach us.  And he'll only make them for people he likes, or whoever the captain commands."

        "Ervin taught you Soul Singing?" Lyric was beginning to accept his default reaction for the time being would be surprise.

        "Oh no!" Green braids protested. "He always said that would be like handing a loaded gun to a child.  He said what he teaches us is more like a slingshot.. Still, it's handy.  Everything we can build from your world came from the songs Ervin has taught us."

        "That shouldn't even be possible."  Lyric frowned.  

        Green braids shrugged.

        "And yet, Gilligan's Island is on the flat screen in the mess hall right now."

        Lyric had created all sorts of things in his years as a Soul Singer.  The only issue here was an absence of raw materials.  Just recently he and Acheron had sung into being a house, completely outfitted with plumbing and wiring and modern amenities.  No Singer could create from nothing though, and the only raw materials he had in abundance were water and salt.

        "I can try."

        "Aidan!!"

        Green Braids winced.

        "That'll be the captain.  Perhaps we can pick this up later?"

        Lyric nodded as Aidan - formerly known as Green Braids - hustled out the door.

*   *   *   *   *

        Trytohn strolled leisurely down SW 12th St. in Topeka, Kansas.  He casually shoved a large truck driving by toward a mother walking with her toddler. The man behind the wheel managed to steer his way clear of the mother and child.  Unfortunately his new trajectory took him into the path of an incoming cement truck.  Trytohn smiled happily at the sounds of horrific mutilation and death behind him.

        "Sire," a Keylac appeared at his side.  "You sent for me."

        “I've decided to promote you. Word reached me that your superior was sent to deliver contract instructions from Bonen Tansyon and ended up smashed to bloody bits.”

        “Who would do that?” The Keylac asked, his unflappable demeanor was decidedly flapped.

        Trytohn's love for all things painful, violent and deadly made him tolerant of most of the horrors his subjects visited on one another. The exceptions to the rule were the Keylacs. No one was allowed to touch the Keylacs.

        Trytohn lacked the divine attributes of the Composer.  He could not be everywhere at once.  With his enormously diversified areas of influence, he required a messaging system that was intelligent, resourceful and not reliant on technologies that could fail or magic that could be countered.  Thus, he formed the office of the Keylac's, essentially the couriers of hell. Every hellion could trust them as they were protected by Trytohn himself.

        “Judging by the location and contract involved, I'm going to assume the high master of the Soul Singer's Guild was the one directly responsible.” The prince of Darkness answered. “However, since his demise at the hands of Lisian and Legion, my wrath will have to fall instead on the others present; namely Cadence, Queen of the Verge, Lyric the ‘demon singer’ and my very own Acheron.”

        “Respectfully sir, you don't seem very angry.”

        “I'm not!” Trytohn smiled broadly. “Killing a Keylac constitutes a breach of contract. That effectively removes Lyric's protection from me and makes him fair game. I can kill him!”

        “What would you have me do, sire?” The Keylac asked nervously. “I don't believe I have the strength to best a Soul Singer.”

        “Of course you don't, don't be ridiculous. Take this," Trytohn produced a vial of shimmering liquid and handed it to the courier demon. "It is tears from my scrying bowl. Awaken the beast and give it to him. I want Acheron back and Lyric dead today. This will let him find them faster than the contract tracers."

        "And what of the other? The queen?"

        Trytohn shrugged.

        "I've grown tired of her self-flagellation; wandering the Verge doing penance for whatever crime she regrets. I allowed her to remain queen to keep the Verge under control and out from under the influence of my generals. She was unable to stop Acheron from tying to that foolish Singer and in fact, has left the Verge and joined them. She is of no further use to me. Tell Levi he can do as he likes with her. He should appreciate that, I believe they have a history."

        The Keylac bowed low and vanished with a whine.

*   *   *   *   *

        Lisian quietly left the boardroom of the most corrupt company in Chicago. She had a sheaf of contracts in her briefcase that guaranteed nineteen more souls bound for hell with the potential for countless more.

        Giant corporations tended to be full of low hanging fruit. These idiots would line up to jump into the furnace if it meant wider profit margins.

        “I've sent Blink with Company Thirteen to Markhato.” Varia's voice came from behind her. Lisian whirled to face him. How did he keep managing to sneak up on her? Her demon senses were orders of magnitude sharper than a human's.