Demon Singer II (6 page)

              His beautiful face scowled as he contemplated the singer responsible.

              Lyrical Sound of the Evening.  

              What a stupid name.

        It came from a second sight city in Canada, where the boy's grandmother grew up. The whole family had stupid names.

              Trytohn had received regular and increasingly annoying reports concerning the young Soul Singer over the last few months...

              Or was it years?  

              Time was hard to keep track of.  

              Apparently this upstart was "something special"; a handler for the Guild. He had squared off against some of Trytohn’s agents and pulverized them.

              The fact that he was one of the few singers fully committed - mind, body and soul - to the service of the Composer made him immune to the majority of Trytohn's attacks. It also made him forbidden fruit. As long as he maintained his integrity, Trytohn wasn’t allowed to touch him directly.

              It didn't take long for Trytohn to decide the potential payoff wasn't worth the very hefty investment.  By then, Acheron and Lyric had already smoked forty of his favorite dogs.  He still did not understand that.  Acheron loved his hounds.  The fact that she would shred them so willingly for this infant bothered him more than a little.

              Word recently reached him that Race Widoc had managed to sign Lyric to seven contracts. That was encouraging. At least he could be followed, regardless of his protection. Plus, there was always the pleasant possibility that Lyric would renege on one of the contracts, thereby putting him directly into Trytohn’s power.

              Then, the ultimate surprise, Lisian and Legion managed to destroy the Soul Singer's Guild. Trytohn still couldn't believe they succeeded where he himself had not. He suspected the strange Verger that Lisian adopted as a pet may have contributed to their success. He might bear further scrutiny. Still, it was a huge win that caused much celebrating amongst the fallen.

              A stirring at the edge of the River Acheron roused him from his musings.  Trytohn waited quietly. He had a lot of practice waiting. Eventually a small, portly demon in what was once a bright yellow suit clawed his way out of the water.  He flopped onto the mud at Trytohn's feet.

              "Hello, Race, how are you feeling today?" The Prince of Darkness greeted the small demon pleasantly.

              Coughing out scalding water, Race Widoc sat up and looked warily at his master through swollen eyelids. His face looked like one giant blister.

              "I'm much better now, your highness. Just a little wet. The lovely Acheron took some exception to me performing my duties, so I've been indisposed for a time."  The rotund demon chose his words carefully.  

              Trytohn nodded his understanding.

              "I've elected to free her of the burden of her magic for the time being." Trytohn gestured to the tree he leaned against.

              "Thank you, sire, your wisdom is timely as always. I'm sure otherwise I'd still be in there." Race flicked a hand with too many rings at the burning waters from which he'd just emerged.  "Would it be a safe assumption that your presence here indicates you have need of me?"

              "You drew up the contracts we have on the Soul Singer, Lyric"  Race carefully kept his face neutral, but Trytohn could sense his tension.  "I'm curious to know who holds them.”

              “Mistress Bonen Tansyon.”

              “Really? Not Lisian?”

              “No sire.”

              For a demon, Race was terrible at deceit.

              “Now, Race,” Trytohn crooked a finger and Race was suddenly suspended in the air back over the boiling river. “Carefully consider your position before you answer. Is anyone besides Bonen Tansyon involved in these contracts?”

              “The Verger, Varia Tur. I saw him in Sta Catoe when mistress Tansyon summoned me. He caught my eye because Mistress Lisian has been acting oddly since…”

              “Since they got together to plan their little coup?” Trytohn smiled encouragingly.

              Race blanched in terror.

              “I had no idea master. Mistress Tansyon asked for seven blank contracts to be delivered to Lyric's room and promised I'd be promoted after you were deposed so long as I kept my mouth shut. I planned on telling you as soon as I could get away. By the time I discovered the mark was the Singer who tied mistress Acheron, the contracts were on the table and mistress Acheron was pounding on my shield. Once he signed, I came running straight to you. Mistress Lisian threw some ogres between mistress Acheron and me, but she still got to me before I could reach you. Then she beat me up and threw me in there.” Race pointed at the river beneath his dangling feet.

              “So Tansyon is part of the coup?”

              "All I know for sure is both mistress Tansyon and mistress Lisian are connected to the Verger, Varia Tur.”

              “Interesting,” Trytohn considered this new information. “Did Tansyon give you any idea what she planned on using the blank contracts for?”

              “No sire, but she seemed nervous, like she didn't want to be seen. Then she smoked out the instant she gave me my instructions.”

              “Is that all?”

              “Yes sire, please forgive me for not getting to you in time.”

              Trytohn gave Race another dazzling smile.

              “Forgiveness really isn't my thing, Race.”

              Trytohn gestured and the little demon fell screaming back into the boiling water.

              Trytohn settled back and admired his handiwork.  The tree was grown out of Acheron's magic and held her power until she was returned to him.  The dead Monks had stopped swaying.  He sent a gust of wind at the monk's bodies, starting them moving again.  He liked watching them sway.

*   *   *   *   *

              Ruby smiled fondly at Joss and Anaya.  The brothers slumbered peacefully on the couch, propped up against one another.  

              Tiptoeing up close to the slumbering Tommyknockers, she held a pot in one handle and metal ladle in the other. This was gonna be awesome. Maintaining a firm grip, she wailed on  the pot like it had said something nasty about her mother.

              The brothers woke up yelling, using words the girl hadn't ever heard.  Not because she was innocent but because they were extremely British, and their vulgarities operated on a completely different level from Americans.

              "Oooiii, what the hell?" Joss clapped his hands to his ears and sprung to his feet. "What'd you want to go and do that for little girl?"

              "Mischief does nobody any good, Ruby." Anaya, at seven feet tall, took longer to stand up than his brother, but was far more impressive when he did. He tried to look severe, but his spectacular wardrobe ensured the failure of that effort.  

              "Hey kettle, this is Anaya," Ruby held an imaginary phone to her ear. "You're black."

              The brothers were Knockers from England. Ruby had encountered them when she tried to stow away on top of their RV, a vehicle she would later learn they lovingly referred to as the barge.  Joss discovered her immediately, but rather than shoo her away, he insisted she ride up front with them.  Meeting them had been one of the highlights of her life so far.  

              Their style was what had attracted her to them in the first place. The brothers both dressed in a steampunk fashion, insisting they invented the look. Joss, barely taller than Ruby, wore brown pants with blue pinstripes, a blue dress shirt and brown leather vest.  A brown trench coat and leather bowler hat completed the ensemble, and of course his ever present walking stick and dark goggles.

              Anaya sported walking stick and dark goggles like his brother, but otherwise he wore sharp looking suits with a ridiculously large fur coat that was the same brilliant hue as his brightly colored ties.  Ruby once asked how he found so many fur coats that were so perfectly matched to his ties.  

              Anaya explained that he only had one furcoat, but that the fur was from a creature called a chromomorph. One of the denizens of the deep earth.  They were enormous, cuddly looking, mole type beasts whose sleek pelts could change color. It was long thought the color changing was involuntary. Anaya discovered differently.

              The big Knocker stumbled across one that had killed a miner in a deep galena mine in Scotland. The monster attacked and Anaya was forced to kill it. Not one to leave an opportunity unseized, Anaya had the skin made into his coat. It was a dull brown and Anaya found himself wishing it matched his lavender tie.  Poof, the coat changed color.  Anaya got excited and immediately expanded his tie collection.

              Knockers have a unique and, in its own way, powerful ability. They are able to foresee danger and death. This gift makes them completely immune to attacks and accidents. It also makes them extremely susceptible to harmless pranks. Their own sense of mischief had led to them dying Ruby's hair a violently bright green. This elicited a reprisal from Ruby that left Joss with a nervous tic every time he got too close to a two liter of diet coke. Thrilled that they had encountered someone who could keep up with them they immediately adopted her as one of their own.

              "No art, whatsoever!" Joss complained loudly. Anaya pulled Joss' hand away from his ear.

              "Stop yelling, Joss." The big Knocker said mildly.

              Anaya turned back to Ruby, his deep voice rumbled with leftover sleep.

              "Is there a reason we should be awake, or was this to make up for the toothpaste?"

              Ruby winced. They had put capsaicin in her toothpaste a few days before.  Both of them felt guilty, none of their pranks had made her cry before.

              "Yes," the beautiful redhead replied. "It makes us officially even until the next prank you pull. Something happened to my brother's school in Boston, and mom and dad aren't answering their phones. I'm sure it's nothing, but I haven't been home in a while and this is a good reason to hit the road.  Get ready, I want to leave soon."

              "How does that wake up call cancel out the pepper extract?" Joss asked, his groggy mind trying to keep up.

              "It doesn't, but have you been sweating the last three days, waiting for me to retaliate?"

              "Yes!" The brothers chorused together.  They were sleeping sitting up on the couch because they felt safer together but didn't fancy sharing a bed.

              Ruby smiled wide and blew them a kiss as she limped out of the room.

              Joss followed her while Anaya began packing their stuff.

              "Anaya and I saw you talking to a handsome gentleman yesterday. Don't you want to tell him goodbye, maybe give him your number?" The Knocker asked as she began loading the winnebago.

              "Ew, no!" Ruby made a face. "He asked if I had the time.  He lost his phone.  He was old enough to be my father, I thought you said you saw him."

              "We did, but you're a weirdo. Maybe you like older guys."

              "I've got my hands full with a couple Knockers, I have no interest in any guys right now." Ruby stuck her tongue out at Joss.

              The tommyknocker managed to maintain a deadpan expression as he replied.

              "I wasn't talking about breasts, young lady."

              "Joss!!" Ruby's face flushed scarlet.

              "Hey Anaya!" Joss called over his shoulder. "Ruby knows how to blush! Just talk to her about boobs!"

              "Good to know." Anaya's deep voice came floating back.

              "Shut up, you pervert!" Ruby laughed and gave Joss a playful shove. "Go help your brother pack, I want to be in Massachusetts tomorrow.  My parents will love you guys... well... maybe not you.  But they'll love Anaya for sure!"

              Joss clutched his chest in mock despair as he walked into the house.

              "Of course they will," he said sourly.  "Everybody loves Anaya."

              "And make sure you grab that piggy shaped cheese grater!" Ruby called after him. "These people had some truly excellent taste." She said to no one in particular as she loaded the large tv into the Winnebago.

Chapter 4

              ...massive sinkhole that swallowed up a full city block in Boston's South warehouse district. Officials report the area has been abandoned for years, so thankfully there were no casualties. The odd phenomenon is made stranger by the large explosion that coincided with the event. There is no word yet whether the sinkhole triggered the explosion or the explosion led to the sinkhole. The area, once known as 'the Music School', has been condemned for the better part of a decade. Some are saying the disaster may be a blessing in disguise, citing the rundown state of the area. Demolition has now been accomplished without cost to taxpayers and renovations can bring new growth to a run down area. No one has yet stepped forward in any kind of official capacity on the property owner's behalf to speak to this bizarre occurrence. Speculations on the cause of the event are ranging from methane deposits and structural integrity to aliens and the wrath of God.  For now, workers are sifting through the wreckage, seeking anything that might shed light on this strange occurrence.  For all of us here at-

              Lyric jabbed a finger at the power button on his car stereo. The world had no idea about the catastrophic loss of life in what was once the primary bastion of defense between mankind and the powers of darkness. He supposed that on the surface that was a good thing. But there was that very human part of him that wanted people to know: This happened! People died! Good people! And you should be terrified of what it means for you that they are no longer here to stand between you and your nightmares!

              Driving through the streets of Boston was weird.  Always before there had been a sense of excitement as he passed familiar landmarks on the way to the Soul Singer's Guild. Today there was dread.

              He recalled the first day he drove up to the gate.  They arrived at sunset.  Emma had wanted to accompany him but Niq insisted on staying behind.  No surprise there. His father was distant and uninterested in anything outside his own compositions.

              Master Lomong had greeted Lyric's mother with careful civility before turning his imposing demeanor toward Lyric.

              "If you're late to even one of your lessons I'll have your memory wiped and you'll be ejected from the school. Clear?"

              Lyric, just seventeen years old, had nodded, thoroughly intimidated by this mountain of a man. Lomong's fierce expression broke into a friendly smile. He clapped a heavy hand on Lyric's shoulder.

              "Relax son, you'll be fine.  Now say goodbye to your mother, you won't be speaking again until you've completed your first measure."

              Lyric had hugged Emma and told her he loved her. Then he walked into the Guild and did not speak again for a year and a half.

              Resurfacing from his memories, the Singer parked a block away and headed to the crater where the Guild used to be. Once again he approached at sunset. That always seemed to be the way of it. This time his shadow didn't fall on a plain gray facade, though. This time it stretched across an enormous hole in the ground. That part of him that tended toward morbid thoughts was uncomfortably fascinated by the sight of his shadow being swallowed by the darker shadows in the crater.

              Stop being such a dramatic little bitch.
Acheron's thoughts touched his across their tie. He sighed, supposing he should be grateful she had held her peace as long as she had.
Damn right,
she thought at him.  

              He listened to the Score, trying to find some clue to what happened.  He recognized the theme he heard, he had heard it before in the goblin mines the day he burned them.

              Creation was weeping.

              "How did this happen?" Lyric's voice seemed harsh in this place. The loud silence that followed gave way to quiet footsteps.

              "No one knows, my friend."  The familiar voice of Lyric's friend, Amnia Nit Too, the chief researcher for the Guild, came from behind them. "All of my sources are at a loss. The Guild called all Singers home during the attack on Markhato. No one has heard from any Singers since. From what I've gathered, you were the only Singer absent when this happened.  No one else has appeared since. I can't help but fear the worst."

              Lyric stared bleakly at the rubble below.

              "This is insane, Nit. I prayed so hard that you were wrong. This shouldn't be possible."

              "Not possible?" Acheron scoffed. Her disdain was muted by exhaustion. "Why not? Because it makes you sad? Because it doesn’t mesh with that arrogant esteem you hold for this place? Not that long ago a pack of hellhounds invaded another one of your warded singer sanctuaries and tried to kill you. That shouldn't have been possible either, my foolish lover, and yet we were attacked on that stupid mountain you loved so much."

              Lyric and Acheron had recently spent a night on Da Capo, a mountain protected by powerful wards the Founder of the Soul Singer's Guild himself had set up.  No hellion was even able to find the mountain, let alone set foot on it. Lyric had assumed Acheron could be there because of their soul tie. Yet they had been attacked by a huge pack of hellhounds, Trytohn's favorite weapon for terrorizing and destroying cities. They had even received a message from the architect of the attack in Markhato, psychotic Melody's mistress and Acheron's sister, Lisian. The demoness had carved it into a stone near the foot of the mountain:
You're not safe on Dacapo. You're not safe anywhere.

              "Normvy let them onto the mountain."  He reminded her. That pain was still fresh. One of the masters of the Soul Singer's Guild, the admittedly volatile Keith Normvy, had betrayed them. He could not have done
this
though. He was currently busy being very dead. Acheron had pulled his head off just three days ago.

              "Exactly." Acheron replied. "You were betrayed from inside your precious Guild. Plus, don't forget, that idiot Melody was masquerading as one of your Guild instructors too. You, my gullible lover, were blindsided by both of them."

              "Now it would seem you have yet another traitor in the ranks."  Cadence added. “Was anyone in the Guild not a traitor?”

              "
Had
a traitor," Lyric gestured to the crater.

              "I doubt whoever did this was foolish enough to be caught in the fallout." Cadence noted. "I'm confident whoever did this is still alive."

              Nit handed an envelope to Lyric.  The Singer frowned at it.  It was sealed with a big dollop of wax that had an elegantly carved letter E in the center.  

              "It was given to me years ago by Ervin, shortly before he threw down with Trytohn himself. He said I was to deliver it to the first Singer I saw in the event something catastrophic happened to the Guild and no one contacted me within twenty four hours. You're it, brother."

              Lyric put the envelope in his pocket.

              "You're not going to read it?" Nit tried and failed to conceal the agitation in his voice.

              "I will," Lyric looked steadily into Nit's eyes. "And I'll discuss with you my misgivings about this entire situation if you like, but not now."  He turned his attention back to the giant hole in the ground.  "I need to see to this first."

              Nit’s frown softened and he nodded his understanding.

              "I will stay with you, my friend."

              Acheron turned to leave, apparently her soft spot for Lyric only went so far.

*   *   *   *   *

              Varia Tur stood atop the hill watching his army move across the plain below. Two hundred and fifty thousand supernatural monsters from mankind's blackest nightmares, battle tested and hungry for murder, and they all answered to him.

              Officially it was Lisian's army, the same one that had attacked Markhato recently, minus the weak and cowardly.

              He smiled to himself.  

              The attack on Markhato had been brilliant if he did say so himself.  On its face it had been a pointless war for a stupid cause against the Unbeaten Legion.

              ‘The veil will fall.’

              What an idiotic rally cry.

              Varia had no desire to tear down the second veil, the one that allowed the supernatural to hide from the natural. He could not care less about a city so bloated and arrogant it required four kings to rule it. Lisian had agreed. Destroying Markhato would have been pleasant, but in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter. The true point of the war was to distract the city from what was happening inside the mountain where the Light of Markhato dwelt. While the Milleytes Lux,  Markhato's famous unbeaten Legion, had their hands full with Lisian's pet, the wannabe goddess Melody, Varia's Verger, Blink, was able to sneak into the dwarf warrens at the base of the mountain.  

              Very few people knew that fifteen hundred years ago, the same time the Light of Markhato appeared, a door was opened to the Verge in a huge cavern deep inside the Mountain of Light.  One that was unguarded by anything other than complacent dwarves and a giant beam of light.

              Varia had visited the Light of Markhato before. It had the feeling of enormous power about it, but it didn't do anything other than shine. He was unimpressed.

              The dwarves discovered it when they were crafting the machinery used to power Markhato.  They were extremely careful to keep their secret.  They planted devious traps, fake stories and various magical wards to protect it.  Varia was patient though, and without remorse.  It was only a matter of time and slaughtered families before he secured the information he needed.

              All that was left then was to send Blink in to see the door.  That was one annoying  drawback to Blink’s excellent ability. He could not teleport someplace he had never seen in person. Once he found the door, he teleported back out to Varia and together with Lisian they left Melody to wage her war.  

              Varia never intended to win that war, his plans were
much
bigger.

              Throwing Lisian's army against Markhato served to weed out the weak and cowardly. And while General Rondeaux's death was unfortunate, losing him resulted in the lifting of the mind control thrall he had the army under. That resulted in everyone not psychologically suited to Varia's purposes going home. So what he had left was an army a quarter million strong of blood thirsty killers eager to follow him as long as he gave them something to murder.  

              Looking down on his slow moving army, Varia found himself annoyed once again that he was forced to forego the convenience and speed of modern transportation to move his army to the encampment out east.  The majority of his soldiers were unfit to be seen by humans, and too many were unable to fit in vehicles anyway.  The ogres and trolls were too big, the wights and poltergeist were too ethereal and the gremlins kept shorting out the electricity everywhere they went. The only notably human portion of his force was Company Thirteen.

              Varia did not like their commander, Connor Lot, but he accepted the young man's skill as a leader. Though human, Company Thirteen was just as deadly and perhaps even more horrifying than the rest of Lisian's soldiers. No supernatural creature in the entire army approached the level of depravity and evil of Connor Lot and Company Thirteen. Oddly enough, there was a camaraderie among the men that extended to the non human balance of the army. They just seemed to really hate their fellow men.

              So the army walked.  

              As long as he could keep them from killing each other on the way, he would have a force to take to the Verge that would rival even the Milleytes Lux.

              Trytohn expected Lisian to lead them to the gates of hell, but that wasn’t the plan. The army couldn’t even make it to the Verge until Varia could secure a safe passage large enough to accomodate them.

              He had sent a message to Oberon, seeking an opportunity to woo the fairy king to his cause.  Oberon himself had the largest army on the Verge. If he was more ambitious and less childish, he could rule the Verge in place of the reluctant queen, Cadence. But of even greater interest to Varia was Oberon’s ability to open passage to the Verge. Unfortunately, The Fairy King had refused to join Varia’s initiative… so far. Varia prefered to view the refusal as the first step in changing Oberon’s mind.

              He had already made great strides with the Djinn, and was cautiously optimistic they would join his endeavor or stay out of the way. Add to them the demons he would collect after binding Trytohn and the Vergers he had already collected from the Soul Singer's Guild, he was confident the Verge would fall quickly.  Especially since their soldier queen was stuck on this plane with Lyric and his demoness.   

              Lisian would likely need to be dealt with, but Varia was certain she would remain faithful until Trytohn was no longer a threat. The only thing she loved more than the Prince of Lies was herself. Naturally, that's what he appealed to when he struck this bargain. If Lisian helped him overthrow Trytohn, she would get the throne. It was a low cost deal for him, he didn’t care about the throne, he just wanted the army.