Virgo's Vigilantes (The Zodiac Book 6), page 19
"Bilba," I said in a warning tone, glancing around and hoping I saw nothing that resembled intelligent life.
"I—I…" Bilba struggled.
All the while, Ralrek's gateway ballooned.
Fifty feet wide now. This was becoming a problem.
"Stop him," I urged.
Bilba blinked. "Ralrek. Let go of the vine. Drop it!" Bilba said, panicked enough to snag Ralrek's attention.
The tall incubus twitched, his arms straightened horizontally from their previous position, as if someone had slung sandbags around his fists.
"Let go of the vine!" Bilba shouted.
The park was still empty, the night still quiet. We still had a chance to get away with this.
"Let go!" Bilba was now shouting.
Ralrek's gateway flickered.
Well, I pondered for a hopeless moment, if Ralrek's infant gateway didn't draw attention, my best friend's hysterics would.
With one last fierce jerk, Ralrek's arms dropped to his side. He wobbled, teetering. I raced to him, catching him by the shoulders.
"Are you okay, buddy?" I asked, trying to hold him steady. Demons as tall as Ralrek were difficult to keep upright, especially when you were half a foot shy of six feet tall yourself.
Ralrek cranked his neck in my direction, blinking as if he just woken from a deep sleep. "Zeke… whoa," he said as he stumbled.
I looked at Bilba, whose mouth hung open, and said, "Well, that was fun."
13
Underworld, Fifth Circle
"Well, look at it this way. You didn't kill anyone this time," I teased.
"I didn't kill anyone last time either," Ralrek said.
"Only because we made you open the gateway in the sanctuary," Bilba said.
We had traveled to the Fifth Circle through one of Ralrek's gateways. Since Bilba's frightening training session with the incubus, he made Ralrek practice often, at least once a day. Over that time, they'd trained in smaller and smaller confines until Bilba was convinced Ralrek could contain his spell. He reported Ralrek was getting stronger and more accurate with them.
I wasn't so sure. This gateway was three times larger than required, but Ralrek at least had enough control now that he could open them in the hallway in my apartment. The first few times he tried that, he nearly burned holes in my walls, and that was after hours of practice. Now, he was adept enough to open them sideways so they ran down the length of the hall, and held ample control so it didn't rotate and bring the entire apartment down on our heads.
We'd even traveled through the gate and into Eve's Sanctuary without launching cataclysmic events around Hell.
Being back was surreal. I hadn't seen this garden in a long time. Too long. So much in my life had changed since the last time I stood in this tranquil realm. Now, I couldn't help but soak in everything around me. It felt right being here. Who knew if I would ever get another chance to enjoy it. The Council had left me alone, as Lucifer's laws dictated, since winning my freedom, but I trusted them as much as I trusted Beelzebub to babysit any of my future offspring.
Eve's Sanctuary. Home. My real home, at least to me.
The way the air smelled. The rustling of reeds in the pond. The familiar warmth of the Hellfire. The way a cloud of harpies flitted in the canopy overhead, chirping insults as they flew in the gloriously azure sky. All of it, so familiar, so comfortable. This was my home, but it was also a place where I wondered if I was still welcomed.
We'd find out soon enough.
"Let's get going," Ralrek said, clapping his hands together to close his gateway.
He was getting cocky, too adept at managing the gateways already. Before long he'd have another reason to brag. Lucky us.
"No time like the present," I said. We strolled out of the garden, taking time for me to breathe in as much of Eve's Sanctuary as possible. Then it was through the packed streets that led back to my childhood home.
Everything along the journey to my old stomping grounds looked the same. The Fifth was as loud as ever. Incubi and succubi filled the streets, dragging pouting implings. Chimera carriages, the few that dotted this part of the Circle, rumbled past without regard for anyone. Vendors shouted the benefits of their wares. Imps raced up and down the narrow pathways playing tag, bumping into older demons, oblivious to the nasty looks shot after them.
"Are you ready to see what they've done with the place?" Ralrek asked, showing a rare moment of compassion.
Bilba and Ralrek had warned me about my parent's improved lot in life. For long before I was a twinkle in Kanthor Sunstone's eyes, my parents lived in a massive angel oak that was degrading by the year. Far from dilapidated, the home had needed major TLC since I could remember. My father's Construction Ability was weak—the Sunstone's aren't a very magical family in more ways than one—so he couldn't rely on them for anything more than the most minor repairs. Angel oak trees had been converted to more modern homes, resembling mortal abodes, all around the neighborhood. The last of the conversion projects happened so long ago I barely had a memory of it. Conversions were a sign of status. For one's home to no longer hold its natural appearance was to signal to your neighbors that you'd "made it." My parents were the last one in the neighborhood still living inside a tree.
Well, until recently.
Somehow, someway, they found themselves the proud owners of a massive conversion process, where a new home was sprouting up from the ground near the tree that birthed it. My friends were kind enough to paint the picture for me to save me the shock.
"It's going to be strange, I can't lie," I said. And it was.
When we rounded the corner to the block they lived on, my eyes fell on the house my parents now called home. Scaffolding surrounded it. The new version of their home was a quaint, two–story dwelling painted a brash yellow. Who paints anything they appreciate that color of yellow?
My steps stuttered. "Wow. I thought I was ready. But that…"
"Welcome to trying to keep up with the Fireborns," Ralrek said with a tight chuckle. Even for immortals, status matters.
"Look at it this way, at least you get to see them again," Bilba said in his ever–cheerful tone.
"Right," I said, wondering if this was still a good idea, doubting it was, but feeling the tug of a mother's love for her son. A love that I returned in equal measure. Sometimes, you have to let your heart lead you. My mother deserved to see her son more than any mother in the history of Hell.
A thigh–high picket fence edged the patch of yard around the house. A latched gate guarded the entrance. I opened it and stepped onto my parent's property for the first time since I spent the Samhain feast with them, my aunt, uncle, and niece before leaving to fight for the mortal army.
When I knocked on their front door, it was like thunder rolling through the entirety of Hell.
Suddenly nervous, I swallowed. My heart skipped as footsteps approached from the other side.
Lilith Sunstone opened the door, her face going from confusion to elation in the batting of a faerie's wings. "Ezekial!" She fell into my arms.
"Hello, Mother," I said as I hugged her.
She squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed. "What… How? Oh, my Lucifer, I'm so happy to see you!" It was only then that she blinked in recognition that I wasn't alone. Craning her neck to look around me, she said, "Oh, Bilba. Ralrek. How are you two?"
I interrupted, not wanting to have this conversation out in the open. "Can we come in? I was hoping I caught you cooking. I'm starving and miss your meals." I didn't, but since when did a white lie hurt anyone?
She shuffled back in short strides like an impling excited for Samhain presents. Her square jaw framed glowing cheeks. Mother was happy. That made me happy. "Come in. Come in. Your father isn't home yet, but he should be soon. He ran to the store. Come in. Sit down. I'll throw something together."
We kicked off our shoes once inside, and I took in the new place. As my friends went into the dining area along with my mother, I stood in the entryway and soaked in these strange surroundings. The succubus who greeted us was my mother. The home she resided in was definitely not our home. Not mine, at least. Everything here was square and nondescript, so unlike the inside of the angel oak with its curved walls and persistent damp wood smell. In that home, my parents creatively decorated around the curved rooms and piles of Mother's pyramid scheme—I'm not allowed to call it that to her face—boxes of product. In this new construct, everything was square and bland. The rooms. The ceiling. The door frame itself.
I walked into the dining area. The small table had a knitted runner down the center. Four chairs, two on either side, lined it. Hardly the setting for feasts. This could have fallen straight out of any department store catalog. The table in the old home sat twice as many.
My mother was busy in the kitchen, calling out when I paused too long at the unfamiliar set up. "Ezekial, we're in here."
"Coming," I called back, my eyes lingering on a parents' home that felt like a stranger's.
The kitchen was enormous, too large for my mother's questionable culinary skills. A marble counter wrapped around three of the four walls, separated only by a door. Jade was expensive. The only time I'd ever seen counters like these was during our mission to the Eighth Circle to rob Taurus of the Horn he illegally acquired. Demons at income levels shared by my parents didn't have jade—except that they did.
I whistled. "You and Father are pulling out all the stops."
Mother blew a stray hair out of her face. "Oh, that's your father's doing. He said I deserve the best since I waited so long for this conversion. Very romantic incubus, that one."
Bilba glanced at me in the silence that followed then filled it. "Well, I think it looks great, Mrs. Sunstone. It's a stunning place. Mr. Sunstone was right; you do deserve it. I'm so happy for you two. I know you've waited a long time for this."
"We have," Mother said, her back still to us. "I was sad that we lost our tenant. He was a quiet renter, and the income was nice. But with this smaller home, and what we sold the excess wood from the angel oak for, it made sense. We don't have to worry about upkeep anymore. We're enjoying it."
"Well, I'm happy," I said to her back just as the front door clicked open. Boots stomped in the entryway. The drums of war. Father had come home.
Shit.
We planned the visit for a time when he was supposed to be at work for hours still. The plan was to have a few-hour buffer so I could avoid coming across him, for a multitude of reasons. This was going to be a big problem.
Kanthor Sunstone had been halfway through greeting my mother when he walked into the kitchen. Upon seeing the three of us, he cut it off.
Father is a tall demon, enough so that I'd received thousands of trite insults throughout my life that I couldn't possibly be his son—short demon jokes are always in favor in Hell. Even at forty-thousand years old, he was fit, mostly due to his job at the Grand Chamber, where he worked on the maintenance crew tending to the contraption that sustains the Hellfire. His long jaw rocked to the side when he saw me in his kitchen. His stern expression didn't evaporate.
"What are you doing here?" he said. It wasn't a question.
"Hello, Father," I said, instead of sharing the greeting that was on my mind.
Bilba and Ralrek greeted him uneasily, while my mother said "Hello," with her back still turned. He crossed the room and stood in front, over, me. An untold score of messages and meanings were shared in that moment between the father and the son—too bad the holy ghost wasn't around or it would have been a real party—with a history of tension between them.
"How are you here?" he asked.
"A gateway," I said.
Mother's clinking cooking utensils ceased. "The Council opened a gateway for you to visit?"
"Not really," I said.
"How did you get here?" Kanthor's questions, now and throughout my life, were like a sledgehammer.
I didn't want to tell him how I was traveling nowadays. I didn't have to, even if he demanded it. As consistent as the Hellfire signaled the start and end of every day, Bilba blurted. "Ralrek opened one."
There was a clang in the sink.
My father spun on Ralrek, who shrugged. "How in Lucifer's Underworld can you open gateways?"
"I've had some training," Ralrek said.
In my most encouraging dreams, I would have hoped the fact their son was standing in their home would be the focus of the conversation. The mechanics weren't as important as the presence. Not to me. That seemed lost on Kanthor.
"I was missing you guys, and missing home," I said, hoping to draw the attention back to me. "That's why I asked Ralrek to open one. For me."
"You knew he could do this?" my father asked, staying on the topic that didn't need attention.
"Does it matter?" I asked. "I'm here for a visit. If I'm intruding, I'm sorry. But don't worry, I can't stay very long."
"Why not?" The question came out of Kanthor right on the heels of my statement, and over top a small sniff from my mother.
"I have things to do," I said with a shrug. "If this is a bad time, maybe I can come back later. Another day."
My father's gaze bore into me. I wasn't selling him on any of this. "I'm very happy that you were successful in your trial, Ezekial, but I don't remember the Council waiving travel restrictions for you. Unless you're telling me you're a special case. Is that what this is?"
I stared at my mother's back. The last time she had seen me, I was walking off the floor of the fighting pit, having taken a good incubus's life to save my own. The fact I was still alive should have overridden the illegal mode of transportation. I had to remind myself, Kanthor's world was one of black-and-white.
"Trust me, the Council still considers me a special case," I said with a fair bit of snark, I'll admit.
The tension in the room grew thick. My mother hadn't resumed her work at the sink.
Ralrek burst in. "I did it. I talked Zeke into coming here. I thought he'd want to see you guys, and you'd want to see him." I nodded at his well-placed, very-pointed jab. To think, once upon a time, he was Hell's asshole. "Plus, I needed to practice my gateways. This was the best way to do that. If we intruded or upset you, I apologize. It's my fault, not Zeke's."
There's something about fathers with powerful presences. Kanthor Sunstone definitely possessed that. He was so blunt in how he dealt with others, he dominated rooms with his fierceness alone at times. His history was littered with examples of awkward confrontations that ruined social events. Forget Construction magic, alienating demons with his stubborn insistence was his true Ability.
The way he turned his head at an achingly slow speed was a tried-and-true tactic. Kanthor wanted us to fixate on him, to show us how he could hold our attention with a simple turn of his blocky head. Unknown to him, it did nothing for me.
"You boys shouldn't be playing around with illegal things. This could get you in a lot of trouble," Kanthor said. "I expected more of the three of you. I'm greatly disappointed. I'm sure your father would be too, Bilba."
Oh no, he wasn't going to make targets of them. "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me," I said, looking more at my mother's back than my father's narrowed eyes. "Guess I was wrong. Again. We need to go anyway. I just wanted to let you know I'm all settled at the new apartment and doing well for myself. I hope that makes you both a little happier. Guys." I aimed the statement at my friends. "Are you ready?"
Bilba looked to Ralrek and then back at me, unnerved. "Sure, Zeke… no problem."
I gave my father a nod and walked behind my mother, hugging her. "Love you."
A slender hand slipped up to touch my arm. She squeezed, then released. "I love you too, son. Please be careful," she whispered.
I kissed her on the cheek and walked straight out of the kitchen without even acknowledging my father one last time.
As I clicked the gate closed, Bilba exhaled. "Whew, that was awkward."
"You can say that again," Ralrek said.
"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking, coming to see them," I said, a not-so-direct apology. "Sorry for putting you guys through that."
"Don't apologize," Ralrek said, dismissing the house with a swat of his hand. "It's not your fault they twitch every time the Council says boo. That's just how demons are. That's why nothing gets done. Not to sound disrespectful, they're your parents, but they're also a microcosm of every blessed demon. No one is courageous."
"Welllll," Bilba said, "it didn't help that we dropped in on them unannounced. I'm sure it was a shock."
"Yeah, a shock," I said, only partially agreeing.
We had arrived without warning or permission, that much was true. But after everything we had been through as a family, a five minute visit should have been the best five minutes of their day, if not their month. That was far from the truth, though. Had the Council frightened everyone as much as it appeared? I knew demons were as individualistic as lemmings, but to capitulate on everything life offered, at every turn and fortunate opportunity, confounded me. Something had changed. Something I didn't understand, and didn't know if I wanted to root out.
I just don't understand demons.
Mood soured, I needed something to elevate my spirits. "What do you say we make one more stop before you take me home?" I asked.
"I'm not casting a gateway here. We're in the middle of the Circle," Ralrek said.
"We aren't going to use a gateway. We can use these," I said, pointing at my shoes. "I want to go see Dialphio. I need to walk through Old Towne again before we head back. There isn't any place in the Sixth like it, and I miss it."
So we did. The walk to the oldest section in the Fifth was a long one, but with each step I felt peace wash over me after the confrontation with my father. This was a familiar journey, one I could complete with my eyes closed. And it felt good. Really good. The old water bottle stand where I was first asked for an autograph. The cliff walls were tagged with twice as much graffiti now. The narrow streets of Old Towne which seemed to trap the sounds and smells of its restaurants.
The buildings here were older and narrower, reaching high above the street in this condensed space. Pillars blocked off the cobblestone so only pedestrians used the street. Armed guards, too. They also dotted the crowd who filled the path along the main thoroughfare. The restaurants had put tables out since the Public Works Division had given us a sunny day. Vendors with small booths and carts sold trinkets and conveniences along the middle of the pedestrian path. This zone of commerce allowed fantastic businesses like Chilly Willy's to exist. Thank Lucifer for bikini baristas.
