From Hell with Love (15 page)

“Nico!” Cadmus shouted from the other side of the demon, but the leper ignored his friend.  Niccolo only brought his left hand to his side as Valefor continued to rise, blood pouring down from the wounds the Horsemen had dealt.  Ooze poured out of Niccolo's rotten arm, coalescing into a rigid handle which he gripped tightly.  He brought his arm up above him just in time for Valefor to begin his descent, rushing toward him with a snarl.  With a flourish, Niccolo swung the handle across his body, causing a green fluid to form into a bastard sword which he gripped with two hands.  It almost broke his concentration when he heard Crocell shouting from behind him, somehow having convinced Plague to stop their escape.

“No, you can’t!” Crocell shouted, but Niccolo ignored everything but the enemy flying down to eat him whole.  He did not even hear Cadmus’ cry as he brought up his blade to his side and pointed it forward, time slowing down as imminent death approached.  When Valefor was only seconds away from impact, Niccolo leapt into the lion’s mouth, past its demonic teeth, and forced his cruel blade through the roof of Valefor’s mouth, hoping that he was not a complete idiot.

Valefor crashed into the ground, sending rocks and stones scattering in his wake and his wings sweeping through the street, which knocked Plague and Crocell off of their feet.  Cadmus ran forward, fearing the worst and forgetting he could summon Mercy.  He could only think about Niccolo’s safety; he could only think about what it would be like to lose another friend.

When he arrived at the giant demon’s head, Cadmus fell into despair.  He sank to his knees, staring at the demon who was no longer breathing.  He could not believe it; he could not believe how stupid Niccolo had been.  Two hundred years in Hell and he was still a child.

“The fool…” Crocell said under his breath, staggering toward the reaper drowning in sorrow.  “He should have known-” he began, but they were both surprised when a green blade burst out of the demon’s throat, cutting down and spraying blood across the ground.  The two were stupefied as the blade continued to cut in an arc, withdrawing only to be replaced by a demonic, rotten arm, which pulled away the tough skin of the demon to expose a haggard, moist Niccolo.  The Horseman stepped through the wound and vomited, clearly affected by his ordeal, but then stood to his full height after taking a few breaths.  He noticed Cadmus kneeling on the ground and cocked his head to the side.

“What?” Niccolo asked, the question breaking the reaper out of his daze.  Cadmus pushed himself off the ground and then deliberately walked toward his friend, coming to a stop just a foot away.  He stood there staring at Niccolo for a moment, unnerving the Horseman, but in an instant brought his right hand around and slammed it into Niccolo’s face.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” he shouted, stepping forward and striking him again.  “YOU INCONSIDERATE BASTARD!”

“Stop!” Niccolo protested, which stopped the assault, but Cadmus continued to look at him in fury.

“You could have
died
, Nico.  You could have died.  And you,” he said, turning to Plague who had walked forward.  “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Might surprise you, Rider, but technically he calls the shots,” Plague’s deep voice resonated.

“Oh, bullshit, you argue like a married couple.”

“Look who’s talking,” Plague quipped, but they were interrupted by the soft voice of a fallen angel.

“You killed him,” Crocell said, drawing the attention of all three present.

“So?  Someone had to,” Niccolo said, but Crocell was not in the mood for light conversation.

“I’m sorry, Nico.  I
told
you to get Ronové.  This won’t be pleasant,” the demon said, which made the Horsemen turn to each other before realizing what Crocell was saying.

“Oh no,” Cadmus said just in time for Niccolo’s face to twist in horror.  He turned to Valefor, who was illuminated by red energy.  All four of them looked at the growing aura, the truth dawning on them just before the energy rose into the air and then rushed toward the Horseman of Pestilence.

Niccolo felt like he was getting torn in all directions, feeling the influx of Valefor’s millions of years of life.  Memories assaulted his mind and emotions rushed through him, making him feel like he was going to break.  Fire and pain and misery raged through every muscle fiber, endowing it with a strength he could not contemplate and a potential he could not conceive.  His body rose into the air without his control, absorbing the pure energy of Valefor’s existence.  For that moment, Niccolo thought he was about to die.

Then, in one instant, it was over.  His body fell to the ground and Niccolo gasped for air.  He tried to hold onto the stones beneath, trying to feel something concrete, but his mind was racing.  Niccolo did not know what reality was anymore; he did not know what
existence
was anymore.  It was only after a few moments that he was able to turn his gaze to the three entities around him.  Cadmus looked concerned and wary, but Crocell seemed to regard him with suspicion.  Niccolo tried to consider what that meant as he turned to Plague, who seemed to be shaking. 

Did you feel that?
he thought.  Plague looked at him and nodded.

A little.  I only felt a fraction of it, but…are you alright?
Plague’s voice resonated in his mind, weak in comparison to his usual tone.  Niccolo picked himself up, shaking from the effort.

“Are you alright?” Cadmus repeated verbally, drawing his attention.  Niccolo tried to steady himself and breathed in deeply.

“I don’t know,” he said with all honesty, turning to the fallen angel still looking him over.  “What?”

“Congratulations.”

“For what?” Niccolo asked, annoyed by Crocell’s cryptic nature.  The demon shook his head and looked toward his fallen brother.

“Due to your absolutely
insane
amount of idiocy,” he said before turning back to gaze into Niccolo’s good eye, the black orbs regarding him with disdain, “you are on even footing with the Fallen.”

“Really?” Cadmus asked, which brought Crocell’s attention to him.  The blue demon stood up, the wounds on his side already starting to heal.

“And there is every possibility you’re about to join him.  It is time for you to do your job, reaper,” Crocell said, bringing Cadmus back to his senses.  The Horseman, still in shock from the recent events, walked over to the demon’s face and withdrew his scythe.  He looked over the blade with worry but brought it back behind his hip, ready to strike.  Just before his swing, however, Crocell interrupted him and shook his head.

“Too late for that, Horseman, over here,” he said, nodding toward the underside of the demon.  Cadmus furrowed his brow at the cryptic statement and began to walk around the massive face, seeing Niccolo staring at something in shock.  When he was finally able to see what could do that to his friend, Cadmus understood.

To his amazement, crawling out of the lion’s underside was a blue wisp of a demon.  While they watched, the ghostly form rose up and started to walk toward them, its features vague and changing with the wind.  When it came within a foot of Niccolo, the wisp stopped, almost seeming to reach a solid state.  Niccolo could only stare as the ethereal, humanoid face looked at him, but what shocked him was the smile that spread across its features.  After a moment, the ghastly apparition continued on its path and stopped between Crocell and the Pale Rider.

“I’m sorry, my brother,” Crocell said to the ghost, which made the form flicker to look at him with sadness.

I’m sorry that it fell to you
, a whisper came from the ether, causing Crocell to sniff back tears.  He failed, letting a single, bright tear fall down his cheek, and the ghost raised its hand to wipe it away, but the mist broke against Crocell’s face, failing in its mission.  Valefor’s form looked down in sadness, but then flickered to look over at Cadmus. 
I’m ready.

Cadmus hated when it came down to this.  Reapings were difficult when it was just a corpse; when the ghost could stare him in the eye, it was almost impossible.  He shook his head, mustering his nerve, and tried to remind himself that this was his duty.  As he swung his scythe through the ghostly form, he tried to prepare himself for the onslaught of energy that would come with reaping a fallen angel.

Cadmus was almost disappointed by the effect; it was only a moment before the flood of memories and the surge of power settled.  When he found the flow of power to be manageable, he became curious as to why Valefor’s reaping would not have the same effect.  He looked at his hands, questions raging through his mind, but Crocell seemed to know what he was thinking.

“You have already reaped one fallen, Horseman.  Räum was vastly more powerful than you and so the gulf between your souls was a huge distance to cover.  Now that his power is yours, it will be easier to absorb the souls of the Fallen.  You have much less potential to make up for,” the blue demon said, crossing his arms slightly.  “And I fear this will become necessary for you.”

“What do you mean?” Cadmus asked, shaking slightly from his experience.  He looked over to Niccolo, who was still breathing heavily, but he was much more concerned with Crocell, who was staring at him with black eyes.

“I’ll take you to speak with Ronové.  It’s not safe here.”

***

Crocell walked in front of them, his wounds had already disappeared and it was impossible to tell that he had almost died.  Outside of battle, it did not take long for souls to recover and, as long as the person had a strong sense of self, they could come back from almost anything.  Niccolo had seen it firsthand when demons lost arms and legs only to reattach them, but he was currently too distracted by his newfound power to care what happened to Crocell.  Every few moments a surge of energy would shock his system and he would have to concentrate just to stay conscious.  It was difficult for him to focus on the present and not get bogged down in Valefor’s memories, difficult to stay in his own mind.

He did not say a word as they walked toward Ronové’s hut, which seemed like the home of a pauper.  It did not have the grand nature of Buné’s spire or the gratuitous splendor of Eligos’ sprawling pavilion.  Even Barbas, the unassuming ruler of the Pestilence quarter and Niccolo's mentor, lived in luxury compared to Ronové.   The Horsemen kept quiet as they followed Crocell, who reached out his hand to draw aside the drape hanging over the entrance.  All three of them had to stoop down in order to cross the threshold, but, once inside, they were able to stretch out to their full height.

Ronové’s hut looked destitute from the outside, but the inside was a thing of magic and the entrance opened up to a sprawling, dimly-lit field.  They saw the small fire in the pit twenty yards away and continued forward, gaining the attention of the sole presence in the room.

The squat, little demon looked up from the small fire and grabbed the staff that lay across his lap, setting it to his side.  Picking himself up, the fallen grunted and breathed out in resignation when he turned to face his visitors.  Ronové tried to live a simple life, teaching rhetoric to the poor souls of his domain, and certainly looked the part.  His clothes were loose and fell around him, exposing his round belly and giving the appearance of a man without wealth.  In fact, the only remarkable thing about the ruler of the Famine Quarter was his staff, which was covered with gold at both ends.

“You are late, Crocell, but I am glad you are here,” he said, his voice devoid of passion.  Niccolo had to wonder if Ronové could even feel emotions, as he had never seen the fallen angel react to anything.  “I trust that Valefor has been given peace.”

“He has,” Crocell said, coming to a stop at the opposite side of the fire pit.

“A terrible situation, to be sure,” Ronové ventured before waving his free hand toward the fire pit and looking at the Horsemen, offering the dry grass as a seat for his human guests.  “Sit, young ones, I have not had the pleasure of your company for some time.”  The Horsemen walked to the pit but did not sit down; they had no idea what to expect from this conversation.

“Ronové, I did not kill Valefor,” Crocell interrupted, which caused Ronové to slowly turn his head to stare into the slayer’s black eyes.

“You must excuse me, old friend; I must have something in my ears.  My poor hygiene has ruined me, yet again.  Would you repeat that?” he asked, his expression flickering at the slayer’s words. 

“
They
did,” Crocell added, nodding to the Horsemen, who waited for the elder demon to react to Crocell’s statement.  Ronové stood there for a moment, his face stoic, but eventually he sat back down where he had been sitting before, laying his staff across his lap and clasping his hands in front of him.  After a moment, he looked at his guests and nodded toward the fire.

“Would you take a seat?  It makes me uncomfortable when everyone else is standing,” he said before looking back into the fire, bringing his hands up underneath his bulbous nose.  All three of them looked at each other for a moment before kneeling down and eventually taking a seat.  Crocell and Cadmus kept on their knees, but Niccolo crossed his legs out of comfort.  None of them wanted to interrupt the elder’s thoughts and just waited for Ronové to stop staring at the flames.

“Which one of you killed the lion?” he asked, not breaking eye contact with the fire licking at the spare logs in the pit.  Crocell bit his lip at that, since, as he was the slayer responsible for Dis, he had failed spectacularly.  Niccolo was the one to break the silence.

“I did.”

“Really?” he asked before looking at the Horseman of Pestilence, his face still absent emotion.  “That is odd.”

“Why is that?” Niccolo responded, somewhat offended by the elder demon’s surprise.

“You were the weakest one.  Crocell is extremely powerful, he was made that way, and Cadmus has been reaping for several centuries.  I did not mean to offend, young one, but you were not my first guess,” Ronové said, panning his gaze over to Cadmus.  “Though I assume you performed your duty, or did Niccolo become a jack-of-all-trades?”