Author's Preface
Grimjaw: Well, in this case since you got multiple parties fighting over a child I’d wager that her parentage makes her one of the more powerful types of Cambions. A Nephilim, if I had to guess.
Solana: Which would make her valuable to a devil?
Grimjaw: Very. Nephilim are nearly as powerful as full blown devils without the restrictions the gods have impressed upon them. They are historically notorious for planar travel. Demons and devils also can’t kill each other. Any Cambion could bypass that problem, but especially a Nephilim.
Merkra: Demons and devils can’t kill each other?
Grimjaw: How the story is told depends on your personal theology, but the gist of it is that the gods created the hells as a sort of prison. If the gods didn’t want to, or in some cases couldn’t, kill someone or something, but they didn’t want them running amok, they would place them in a nice little pocket plane they created that was all but impenetrable. The magic used is said to keep the demon’s soul from entering the fields of atonement. So when a soul that is trapped in the Hells is released from it’s vessel…”
Solana: It hasn’t got anywhere to go. So it reincarnates in the Hells.
Grimjaw: Have I taught you before? You’ve got a surprising grasp on these things.
Merkra: Doubt it, she’s just a genius. Why is that different for Cambions?
Grimjaw: That requires a bit of context. Your average demon has the ability to possess a soul in the way that you can possess a piece of jewelry. That ability comes from the fact that its own soul is so damaged that its vessel has room to accept another. When we are referring to a devil, they have the ability to consume a mortal soul. Essentially merging that soul with their own and corrupting it to build on their power. Because a Cambion is a sort of hybrid, that qualifier of being a “mortal” soul does not apply to them.
Fletcher couldn’t remove the sight of the little girl from his mind. The trek from castle to his feet finding the cobblestone streets of Uppercrest was a blur of worry and horror. Penelope’s mention of Reggius’ recent plight felt like his friend’s name had become a weapon.
Children were not his expertise, but he was confident this one was not normal. He’d been around Gifted his entire life and had never seen one with horns. It had to be the same kid. The math there had a problem. Babies don’t sprout horns and grow several feet in a matter of months.
“Mr. Lightfoot.” Bluworth’s nasally voice gave him a shock.
Fletch glanced up and blinked a few times, surprised to find himself at Leonie’s doorway. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but words didn’t come.
Bluworth’s thin eyebrow rose as if he were a caricature of himself. “Are you ill, Mr. Lightfoot?”
“No.” Fletcher shook his head and took in a sharp breath. “No, I’m fine.” He stepped in as Bluworth moved from the doorway. “Thank you for your concern, Bluworth.”
“I wasn’t…” Bluworth started, but Fletcher was already walking toward the sound of music.
Leonie Mulbrook sat behind the piano in their sitting room playing an old folk song called The Ballad of the Faerie Queen . They’d not noticed him until Bluworth rushed in behind to announce his entrance.
“Mx. Mulbrook, a visitor.”
“Oh, Fletcher!” They stood from the piano, leaving the tune unfinished and drawing a frown on Fletch’s face for a moment. “I hadn’t expected you back tonight. How did it go?”
“I’ll be performing early next week.” He said and moved around to collapse onto the overstuffed purple couch.
“That’s wonderful.” They hesitated and moved to sit down near Fletcher’s head and looked down at him while fidgeting with the emerald green sphere on one of their earrings. “Isn’t it?”
Fletcher smiled through pursed lips and shrugged. “I guess so, yes.”
“Bluworth, dear, could you get us some moon blossom tea, please.” They glanced over their shoulder and nodded to the manservant before meeting his gaze again. “Are you alright, Fletcher?”
He closed his eyes as Leonie’s fingers combed through his hair. “I don’t think so.” He whispered. “Have you ever seen a Gifted with horns?”
“Horns?” Their fingers still glided through his hair, gently scratching his scalp with their nails. “I can’t say I have. Like a deer?”
“More like a ram.” He looked up at them, searching their eyes. “I saw one at the castle. A young girl, maybe ten.”
“That’s certainly odd.” Leonie nodded, still looking concerned. “The little girl is what has you upset?”
“Sort of.” Fletcher closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t tell you. It might just implicate you.”
“Thank you, Bluworth.” They said as the manservant placed a steaming pot of tea down. “I’ll have none of that.” Leonie sipped at the tea and didn’t look back down at him. “I’m fully capable of looking after myself. If you don’t want to tell me, that is another matter, but if you’re not telling me under some guise of chivalry or protection, I’ll have none of it.”
Fletcher couldn’t help but grin. He knew it wasn’t malicious, but it was good to have someone call him on his bullshit sometimes. Leonie was already mixed up with Melrhos, and now the king was aware of their connection with him. More knowledge wasn’t going to push them any deeper into that hole.
“You’re right. My apologies.” Fletcher slowly sat up and grabbed his cup and took a sip of the floral tea.
“I always am. Now spill.” They crossed their legs and turned slightly on the couch to face him.
“It’s a long, strange tale.” He whispered into his tea.
“All we have is time.”
Fletcher sighed, but nodded. “That friend in Kelenek? He was more than a friend…”
Leonie remained uncharacteristically silent as Fletcher word vomited the tale of Reggius Sarfiel. From his time at the Ashorian Bardic Institute, where they’d met, to the months long tryst that had set the bar for how deeply Fletcher could fall for a person. He told them of the crushing heartbreak he’d felt when Reggius returned to Etos to be with his family. Finally, he revealed a part of him that only Reggius had ever known.
“So I took the memory away.” Fletcher said quietly. “Now his apparent brain trauma is being investigated, and the baby he delivered months ago is skipping around the castle with that red-headed maniac.”
Leonie sat and watched him, the steam from the tea curling between them. The moment lasted just long enough to make an uncomfortable feeling manifest in his gut. They sat their cup down and took his hands, bringing his knuckles to their lips.
“You sweet, stupid boy.” They smiled up at him and shook their head. “I wish I could tell you that your friend will be okay. What I can tell you is, it was his decision to have you clear those memories. We will be circling back around to that, because it’s possibly the most insane thing I’ve ever heard, but…You explained the consequences to him, and he still wanted to go through with it. You can’t take responsibility for that.”
“Why not?” Fletcher fell back against the soft cushion and sighed. “If I had just stuck to my gut and not done it, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Leonie’s eyebrows rose, and they tilted their head slightly. “Were you to do it again, would you deny him the kindness?”
Fletcher picked at a loose string in the lace neck of his tunic. He wanted to say yes. It felt like the right thing to say. Maybe Regg would have had to live with the pain, but it was a question whether he was going to get to live at all now.
“No,” he muttered. “Probably not.”
“I suspected as much.” Leonie leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg against the back, and pulled in to lean against their chest. “Now, tell me about this girl. I know the way the Gifted are treated isn’t common knowledge, but this one seems to have gotten to you.”
Fletch nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest to curl up in their embrace. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because I have Reggius’ memories still fresh in my mind, but I feel like I need to save her.”
One of their arms wrapped around his chest as they played with his hair with the other. “Uhuh. What are you going to do? Kidnap the girl again? Take her back to Ashoria and raise her as your own?”
Fletcher swallowed hard. “If I’m honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He shrugged slightly. “Maybe? I just want her to have a chance to be her own person.”
“I know.” They kissed the top of his head softly and nuzzled into his hair for a moment. “Melrhos is your best shot at helping her. Helping all of them.” Leonie whispered.
Maybe. Was he patient enough for that? He could just play the kid a song. Slip her out of the castle at his next gig. Smuggle them out of Etos on a boat and never set foot on the continent again. Then what about Leonie? Melrhos? Freya and Selene? What about Atania?
“You’re sure this girl is the same one your friend delivered?” Leonie’s head jerked up and turned toward the kitchen. “Seems we’ll have to continue this conversation later. We have visitors.”
The earsplitting sound of rock scraping against rock sounded as the wall receded and opened to the passage below. Bluworth had beaten them to the dining room, already drawing the curtains when Leonie sat him in the seat to the right of hers at the head of the table. She turned to greet their guests as they emerged. Selene ducked through the hole, followed closely by Freya and then a heaving Melrhos.
“Why, Leonie?” Melrhos stumbled into the dining room and flopped himself into a chair. “Why in all of Elysium with all the damned stairs.” His head thumped against the table as he struggled to catch his breath.
“If memory serves, you’re the one who had it built.” Leonie said glancing back at him as they shook hands with Freya and Selene.
Freya sat down beside Melrhos and smiled up at Fletcher. “I see you survived your first excursion.”
“Head still intact so far.” Fletcher grinned out of the corner of his mouth.
Melrhos lifted his head enough to point a hairy finger and look at him. “See. Look at that. You’re a natural kid.” He heaved himself back against the chair, the fast hands of Selene the only thing saving him from going tumbling backwards. “Find out anything interesting? No pressure, obviously. First time in and all, we’re just looking to get a foothold.”
Fletcher shrugged. “I was able to get a partial tour of the place. It wasn’t thorough, but I could draw a map of the base level probably.”
“Hah! An overachiever.” Melrhos slapped the table and looked over at Freya, who was already pulling out the carved stone tablet. “I don’t doubt you’re a great artist, but she can see the exact memory and record it better than you’ll be able to recall it.”
“Oh.” Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.”
Melrhos raised an eyebrow at him, glanced at Leonie, then back to him. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that.” He spoke in a tone laced with suspicion.
“No, it’s fine. I’m a shit artist.” His stomach tightened, but Leonie sat down at the head of the table and patted his hand.
Freya laid her hands on the tablet and gave him a nod. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Lightfoot.”
He looked from the ornate stone slab to her, considered bolting, then nodded and placed his hands between hers.
It was less jarring this time when he landed in the inky ocean staring up at puffy pink and gray memory clouds. He took a few deep breaths and laid back to relax. The centaur he’d seen before formed in the clouds. Lecturing, maybe? He watched through Freya’s eyes as she glanced around. She was in a room full of Gifted. All sat at desks. A school of some kind.
The other Gifted children faded, and she was at the front. An older orcish man was arguing with the centaur. The orc tried to punch him. The vision went blurry. Red. She was looking at the floor, then at a sword in her hand, blade covered in blood. The centaur’s horrified face as the orc’s body collapsed in front of her and his head rolled off in a different direction.
Though he was just watching the events unfold, Fletcher could feel her fear. The blood coursing through her veins. Her fingers trying and failing to keep hold of the sword. The chill in her spine as she watched the head casually roll and knock into the leg of a desk.
Freya pulled him out this time. Did she know what he’d seen? He couldn’t tell what she saw. He didn’t see the anger he’d expected in her, though. Instead, it was something between curiosity and sadness. She finally broke eye contact with him to pull out a wooden pencil and paper.
“The ground floor seems primarily residential. Housing for the Deviltouched and the King’s Guard.” She continued drawing, not looking back up at him.
She hadn’t mentioned anything about the room with the black iron doors, or Penelope, or the kid. Was she hiding it? Did she not see it as relevant to the situation? Whatever brought her to the decision to keep that out calmed him for exactly three seconds.
“I believe we need to have a discussion.”
Freya’s voice sunk into his mind as if her fingers had melted into his skull and took hold of it.
“Don’t worry, it’s just you and I in here. Keep calm and think your replies. Who is the girl?”