From Hell with Love (7 page)

“Should I bother, little man?  You so rarely say anything worth listening to,” Plague said as they exited the alleyway, turning toward the Death Quarter.

“Why are you so difficult?” he asked, which brought a light chuckle from his mount.

“Didn’t you know?  We take after our riders.  You’ll have to stop being difficult first.”

“That’ll be something.  We’d have to prepare for winter,” Cadmus muttered to Mercy, who broke into a light gallop toward their home.

***

Stop worrying
, Plague’s voice echoed, breaking through the thoughts in Niccolo’s mind.  He shook his head as the wind whipped through his hair, pulling it back enough to expose his face.  The leprosy had turned into an entirely different malady once he had landed in Hell.  It had maimed his skin, pushing the tissue of his brow and cheek together to obscure his left eye and rendering it useless.  Luckily, due to the nature of souls in Hell, Niccolo was able to see without it.  It had surprised him at first, but since his fall, his eyesight was better than it ever had been on Earth.  The Horseman only thought about it for a moment before he drew the hair back to cover the left side of his face and looked toward Buné's spire rising above the horizon.

I can’t help it,
he thought, relying on their telepathic connection.  The Horsemen held a special bond with their mounts, allowing them to speak to each other without having to worry about biting their tongue or not being able to hear the conversation.  As he sank into despair, Niccolo observed the demons walking through the streets of the Death Quarter.  They were gaunt and macabre, dressed in black and grey garments, sadness playing out through their thin, human features which they stubbornly refused to abandon; the only samples of color belonged to visitors to Death’s domain.  It was no wonder that Cadmus spent most of his time outside of the district.

The future is not entirely written, Nico, and if Räum went feral there’s no way to tell if the information is reliable,
Plague thought, his mind unburdened by the exertion of galloping through the streets of Dis.

I just can’t…I can’t lose him, Plague.  I don’t know what I’d do,
Nico despaired as he buried his face against his horse’s mane.

I know, Nico, but it’s not the end of the world.  You have me; you have Cadmus.  Whatever problems lie ahead aren’t entirely insurmountable.  I need you to remember that
, Plague urged as he started to slow down, the gates to Buné's spire in front of them and open to everyone.  The fallen angel, the ruler of the Death Quarter, appreciated visitors.

Funny choice of words.

What?
Plague asked as he stopped at the entrance of the spire, looking back to his rider with a green eye.

“It could actually
be
the end of the world,” Niccolo muttered before raising his leg over his horse and sliding off.

“What did you say?” Cadmus asked as he jumped off of Mercy and approached his friend.  Niccolo just sighed and looked back at Plague before shrugging.

“Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t for you.  Now, try to listen in on this conversation, you bastard.  I don’t want to explain everything to you,” he said as he pointed at Plague, who stiffened at the disciplinary tone.

“Make sure I don’t have to explain everything to
you
,” Plague said as the fog coming from his eyes billowed out in his annoyance shortly before his shape disappeared, leaving behind a cloud of green mist. 
But know that I’m always here for you
.

I know.  I count on it
, Niccolo thought before turning back to his fellow Horseman.  The two of them walked toward the massive double doors, black metal bars interspersed with stained glass.  Neither reacted as Mercy collapsed into dust and the wind scattered his remains.

“Let me do the talking,” Cadmus said as he pushed on the left door, the heavy thing moving slowly.  Niccolo breathed in deeply before looking at his friend.

“You know that’s not going to happen.”

Cadmus rolled his eyes before walking into the waiting area, after which Niccolo followed.  A marvel of gothic architecture, the inside of the spire was built with high, vaulted ceilings and grotesque gargoyles scattered around the pillars supporting the inside of the spire.  Niccolo was looking at one of them before it dropped from its perch and then fluttered away on tiny wings, which caused the Horseman to wonder how it was able to fly at all.  The falling creature drew his gaze down toward the demon sitting at the table on the far end of the hallway. 

Buné had maintained his human form like Lucifer, but the fallen angel had a healthy amount of blonde hair on his head and his face was perpetually stern, the hard lines of his cheekbones giving no chance for levity.  His head was the only part of him that was exposed, however, as he was dressed in dark grey plate mail.  The pauldrons were the only decorated parts of his armor, one shaped like a griffin’s head and the other a lion.  Any other visitor to his home would be intimidated by the former angel, but the Horsemen had known him for too long.

“Boys, how are you doing today?” he asked without looking up from the scrolls on his desk.  Whenever Cadmus returned from a reaping, the two of them would go through the lists of demons to account for their loss.  Buné usually prepared the scrolls for when his student returned.

“We have a problem, Buné,” Niccolo said as he walked toward the angel, purpose leading his steps.  This caused the older demon to look up from the scrolls and stare hard into Niccolo’s face.  If Buné had not already spent a couple of centuries doing just the same thing, Niccolo might have felt a chill.

“Is there any hope that you could learn some tact, Nico?  Things are not so urgent in Hell, after all.  We could catch up; we could even talk about Fafnir.”

“Fafnir’s…dead,” Niccolo said softly, his voice darker at the thought.

“Oh, I…probably should have known that.  Here I go talking about tact and then…” Buné said as he brought his hands together and pursed his lips.  “I’m…sorry,” he said awkwardly, any appearance of intimidation now destroyed.

“Not your fault,” Niccolo said with a note of sadness, but he soon abandoned his grief and walked up to the table, setting his hands on the dark wood.  “But that’s not why we’re here.”

“I had a reaping,” Cadmus said as he approached the table, coming to stand at the other end and using his scythe to prop himself up.

“That’s somewhat expected from your position, Cadmus,” Buné said, leaning back in his plain, wooden chair.  The old demon had no use for excess.

“Not exactly a normal one,” Niccolo said as he picked up a scroll, reading through the demonic text and finding it indecipherable.  He had tried to learn the corrupted dialect back when he had first gotten to Hell, but he had never tried to become fluent.  Everyone spoke Common, anyway, which could have been described as Hell’s version of Latin.  It tended to evolve as more souls fell to the Inferno.

“It was Räum, Buné.  He went feral,” Cadmus said as he scratched the side of his face and looked back up to his mentor, whose eyes were filled with alarm.

“R-Räum?  Are you sure?” the demon said as he leaned forward and set his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“Crocell had to kill him.  I’m sorry,” the Pale Rider said, knowing what this meant to the old demon.  The Fallen held a common bond; the loss of one was like losing family.

“Damn this sickness.  Damn it,” the armored demon said as he looked up and set his elbows on the table, supporting his chin with his overlapped hands.  “It must be chaos in your head right now.  Did you see Heaven, boy?  Might be the only time you have the chance.”

“No…I think I almost did, but…no,” the reaper said, gripping his scythe tightly as memories started to resurface.  His voice faltered as he made eye contact with his mentor.  “What I saw was not good, Buné.”

“Tell me,” the old demon urged, his voice low and serious.  Cadmus’ mentor was not the type to be shaken easily.

“How reliable were Räum's prophecies?” Niccolo asked, trying to take some of the burden from his friend.  The fallen angel’s eyes narrowed, but he kept eye contact with his student.

“Some came to pass.  The problem with looking into the future is that it is unreliable.  It’s like trying to write the history of what might happen.  You inherited his sight, Cadmus?” he asked, breathing deliberately and trying to keep his head clear.  The reaper nodded, only just maintaining his poise.

“Possibly.  I know that I can inherit thoughts or desires just as easily as a demon’s powers and Räum's been around for just as long as you and the others…”

“Enough.  Tell me what you saw,” Buné commanded, rising to his feet and staring down at his, relatively, young apprentice.  Cadmus breathed in deeply and stood to his full height.

“I saw someone murder Lucifer.”

“How?”  Cadmus flinched at the question.

“He…stabbed in the back.  Some person in a…dark cloak,” he said, hesitating at the word, “the palace was on fire…”  When the visions came back to him, a splitting headache raged through his mind, causing the Horseman to grimace in pain.  Buné walked around the table and set his gauntlet on the rider’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t you.  I know that’s what you’re thinking, but you wouldn’t do that.  And, honestly,” he said before breathing deeply and looking at the floor, “Lucifer would destroy you easily.  You’re just human.”

“Listen, you two, don’t go to Lucifer with this,” he started, but Niccolo slammed the table with his human arm.

“Are you kidding me?  We need to tell him!” he shouted, but Buné gave him an icy glare.

“Do you think this is the first time that Lucifer’s been in danger?  He’s been the ruler of Hell for two million years.  I can think of a hundred plots against his life off the top of my head,” he explained, but Niccolo walked forward and pointed at him with his diseased index finger.

“That doesn’t mean this one couldn’t work,” he said, but the old demon slapped away the Horseman’s hand.

“It’s only a potential outcome, Nico.  Like Cadmus said, this could possibly have just been some fantasy or thought that he inherited from Räum.  It isn’t necessarily out of the question; the crow was never the biggest fan of Lucifer.”

“Still!”

“I’m
not
saying we won’t keep an eye on it.  If the palace manages to burst into flames, I’m going to be there as fast as I can, I guarantee it,” he said as he placed his hands on Niccolo’s shoulders.  “Trust me, I’ve known Lucifer much longer than you; I’m rather invested in his continued existence.”

“He just has too much on his plate right now.  The Council of Kings is tomorrow, I know Paimon has already arrived, and Lucifer needs to focus entirely on that.  Every one of the kings has the potential to oust him from power and I know for a fact that they’re not happy.  This feral demon problem extends beyond Dis, Horsemen,” he said before taking his hands off of Niccolo and glancing back to Cadmus.  “The Reapers in the other provinces are just as, if not more, busy than you.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Cadmus asked, setting his chin on the top of his scythe.  Buné sighed as he sat on the table and ran his gauntlet through his hair.

“Watch.  Just make sure nothing completely out-of-place happens.  I doubt that any demon who could be involved with this would bother talking to you, and you don’t want to offend them by pushing it.  You’re humans in the world of demons.  Being Horsemen offers you some advantages, but if, and I do mean
if
,” he emphasized the word by pointing at each human in turn, “this is a real threat, any investigation is only going to make these conspirators more careful.”

“What about the cloaked man?  If we found out who it was,” Niccolo started, but Buné shook his head.

“Räum’s vision, if it was one, could be entirely wrong.  Amon was always much more reliable when it came down to the details, Räum could just see further and, really, his visions were hunches more than anything.  The cloak could just mean that he didn’t know who was doing it.”  Silence filled the room after that statement, neither Horseman wanting to argue with the demon further.

“Lucifer has Azazel and the Hell Knights watching his back, boys.  Even if a cloaked figure got past them, they would have a hell of a fight on their hands when they got Lucifer’s attention.  And
we
,” Buné said before looking at each former human, “will be paying attention.  If the palace
does
come under attack, we will be ready.  We’ll wait…”

“This is absurd,” Niccolo muttered, but Buné slapped the table with his hand.

“We wait!  When the Council is done, we’ll have plenty of time to bother Lucifer. 
Try
to stay out of trouble.  I know it’s not exactly something the two of you are used to doing, but we don’t want to garner any attention.  Now get going,” the fallen angel said as he stood up.  “I have to make some arrangements for Räum.  The Fallen will be disappointed if we don’t honor our brother.”

“Thank you, master,” Cadmus said as he backed away from the old demon.  “We’ll do what we can,” he promised before turning and heading toward the entrance.  Niccolo grunted, but did not add anything to their departure.  He just grabbed his belt and walked beside the reaper.  When they got outside, Plague’s voice broke into his mind.

That’s just horseshit, and I should know,
the voice echoed, which caused Niccolo’s brow to furrow.

Glad you agree
, he thought before turning to Cadmus, who was looking at him out of his periphery.

“So we’re going to tell Lucifer, right?” the reaper asked, tapping his scythe against the steps to summon Mercy.

“Sometimes I think you can read my mind,” Niccolo said before Plague appeared in a burst of green mist.  Cadmus laughed briefly before leaping onto the solidified dust of his horse.

“You wear your thoughts on the outside, my friend.  Let’s go,” he said as Niccolo jumped onto his horse.  They started galloping through the streets just as he finished the statement.

***