Episode 4: Blessings of the Patron
Written by: Auraboo
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The great library was dressed in darkness as the doors of the reading hall opened silently. Kae's fingers traced the shape of the arcane rune holding the doors shut after hours, easily following its path with accustomed ease, and he felt a jolt down his arm as the iron came undone. It made no sound as it unlatched itself, but he knew he had to act fast. If he could feel the spell unravel, so could whoever had cast it.
He crept between shelves as fast as he dared, heart hammering in his ears from the thrill of the hunt. These were the jobs he loved the best; high risk, high reward. He felt no longing for the stage, but there was no taking off the performer’s mantle once donned.
Eight shelves to the left, down through the reading area, and the next aisle towards the gallery. Kae came to a halt at the end of the aisle.
Tall, large windows to his left cast columns of burning lantern-light between his shelf and the next section at the far end of the gallery. It didn't matter how fast he was; if anyone at the bottom floor so much as glanced upwards, they would immediately see the trespasser silhouetted against the windows.
Kae took a deep breath and the air around him went dead still. He reached for the ever-present embers at his core – the source of his power, the gift his patron had bestowed upon him – and felt the heat shoot through his limbs once more, letting it envelop him fully before marching on. The curved horns on his head should have gleamed when light caressed them, but the world was moving too slowly to mark his presence in this pocket of omitted time. He left no shadow, and no light touched him.
The seconds felt endless as he crept on, the burning pressure in his lungs increasing with each step. The shelves on the other side didn't seem to be getting any closer. Plunging into the shadows between the shelves was a relief, and the world lurched as he filled his lungs again.
The taste in his mouth was not of fresh air, however, but that of ashes and smoke.
So much like that night long ago, the deity in him, their presence unravelling and making his flesh anew. The feeling was always the same; neither a recollection nor a vision, yet it was with utter clarity that he knew this would go down exactly the way it had started.
He could almost see the patron-god’s smile with his mind’s eye. One did not bargain with devils without the deal ending in flames.
All around him was a distant murmur, rising, falling, sometimes barely discernible over the sound of his own breathing. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he felt them reflexively drawn to the small brass sign. The script was unfamiliar to him, but the characters shifted, then resettled as he stared at them, their meaning suddenly clear to him. Another side effect of his magic, then.
‘The department of the Arcane’, the sign read. Shelves towered behind it, the air ahead thick with magic. It set his hair standing on an end, a metallic tang on his tongue, and he lifted his hand to trace the rune of undoing once more as he stepped into the shroud.
A current like electricity shot right through him, and he knew at once the seal had been tampered with. Kae found himself on his knees before the world righted itself, and a wailing like a hundred tormented souls broke the silence – and something else, judging by sounds of shattering glass. For a split-second he thought the floor was trembling, until he realised it was the magic around him, repelling his presence. He was on his feet at once, sprinting between the aisles without bothering with stealth any more. Something in the courtyard cracked with an ear-shattering noise.
There was so much magic in the air that it sparked and fizzed as it came into contact with his skin. His eyes were drawn to the endless rows of manuscripts, scrolls and grimoires quivering in their shelves. The voices in his head grew louder as he looked at them, the enchantments on their pages reaching for him. Books began to fall from the shelves, their covers opening, magic leaking out, and he shielded his head with his arms as he ran. Fire danced at the edges of his vision, flames leaping into being whenever the books' magic came into contact with his.
“Fucking shitting Hells,” he swore, the words dancing on his tongue leaving a bitter aftertaste. “This was not part of the bloody plan.”
The patron-god’s laughter rang out like bells in his head, drowning out the curses the grimoires spat at him.
Somewhere a bell began to toll, a great reverberating sound that shook the very foundations of the building. To hell with subtlety, then. Kae grimaced and gathered his magic. The resulting blast toppled a bookcase, raining scrolls everywhere. He ran up the shelves like stairs, a hiss escaping his mouth as spellbooks snapped at his tail, and with a great leap jumped in the air.
He was close, close. He felt it in the magic tightening around his windpipe, winding itself around the gallery. It made the air ahead quiver like a desert mirage, and at once he understood what Kajo had meant. Their instructions had been short, cryptic, and to the point; as you are, so is the seal.
Getting sensible information out of gods was always a fucking ordeal, even when they wanted something from you. Especially when they wanted something from you. Kae grinned even as he uttered a curse. Of course. The seal moved sluggishly, repelling light and shadow unless one knew where to look. Removed from time; a pocket dimension that both was and was not.
‘Well, you did say I was the right man for the job. Guess you weren’t pulling my leg this time.’
Their laughter went through his entire being, warming him from the inside out as surely as hot coals. ‘When have I ever?’
‘Like three times this past year alone.’ Kae rolled his shoulders. ‘Shut up for a moment. Do you want this thing or not?’
He let the shroud envelop himself once more and marched straight into the clouds of iridescent particles surrounding the seal. There was no resistance. It yielded underneath his power like butter melting in sunlight, and the great chains of metal that had snaked around the grimoire withdrew as he reached for the book. It shuddered at the touch, as though protesting, and Kae hugged it against his chest. It would have been so tempting to keep the thing himself – he could feel the power radiating off of it, the promises, the knowledge. He stowed it in his satchel, where it took up most of the space at once.
Stepping out of the seal was much like emerging from water; what had once been muffled came back tenfold, the world, its noises in clearer focus than before. The building itself was still, but the magic coursing within it was screaming.
Two stories below the great doors were thrown open, and the thundering of heavy footfalls set the floors trembling as guards flooded into the building.
“Exit, pursued by all demons in the Below,” Kae muttered to himself.
With a flick of his hand he reached for his magic again, unravelled a single thread of it and brushed his fingers against a grimoire sitting in its shelf as he ran past. He let go, catching a whiff of burning parchment while he rounded the corner towards a spiral staircase. It was with the lightest pang of regret that he saw the aisle go up in flames, the roaring of fire suddenly drowning out the voices of his pursuers. Warlock-fire fed on magic, it was drawn to it. The mundane objects might yet be salvaged, but there would be nothing left of anything of arcane origin once touched by the fire.
The climb was dizzying, up and up in an endless spiral until the fire was just a speck of light in the blackness below. Sweat poured down Kae’s forehead, lungs aching, head pounding. He strained to maintain the shield, even as his blood begged for oxygen, though his pursuers seemed reluctant to use any magic against him lest it harm the grimoire. He reached the top, flung the shield at full force at the chained door waiting for him, and blasted it off its hinges with an almighty bang.
He was panting heavily as he ran to the roof, pausing only to grab the guard rail. The slanted rooftop stretched out on both sides, twin towers guarding the library from the north and the south. He made for the nearest tower, feet slipping on the pitch-black tiles, holding on to the rail for dear life.
He’d never been one to fear heights, but he felt his stomach lurch at the drop that waited below, should his sweaty grip fail him even for a second. The balconies, archways and railings all were wrought iron, their sharp spikes pointing skywards in a silent threat. Fall, fall into our waiting embrace, as tender as a hundred spears, they beckoned. The river that wound around the grounds was not the gleaming black of the night-time rivers in the mortal realm, but a red hot wound glowing its own unpleasant light. He was sky-high, but even up there he thought he could almost feel the heat coming off the flowing lava.
The tower was not locked. He slammed the door shut after himself, placed his palm against it and barricaded it, the spell locking it in place with a searing flash. Not impenetrable, but strong enough to hold until he could make his preparations.
Kae surveyed his surroundings. The room was empty, with only a stone staircase leading upwards. He took the stairs two at a time, swearing inwardly. The landing he arrived on was just as barren as the entrance below. Around him tall ramparts; above, a sky as black as spilled ink. Something made the floor quake, and with a chorus of shattering glass a pillar of acrid smoke towered above the library all of a sudden.
He didn’t wait. He unsheathed the knife hanging from his belt, cut open the back of his hand and wet his fingers with his own blood, tracing a circle large enough for a grown hellning to stand inside on the tiles. Ordinarily, warlock magic did not require rituals or channelling, not in the mortal realm, but the Below obeyed a different set of rules. Patron-gods resided in the Beyond; the magic their warlocks borrowed was only allowed to flow freely in the mortal realm.
With every stroke Kae completed the circle glowed brighter, the air becoming heavier. He’d began tracing the last set of runes when the whistling wind suddenly died, a strong scent of burning flesh entering his nostrils without a warning, and his hand stilled.
“I was wondering what thief was stupid enough to steal from the Hells,” an unfamiliar voice, sweet as sulphur, spoke. “You are a warlock.”
Kae straightened and turned around, dusting himself off. On the ramparts sat a devil in polished black armour, enormous leathery wings tucked behind her back. Her skin was the rich yellow of honey, but the eyes were two black voids without a single speck of light, warm as black holes. She smiled with a mouth of needle-sharp teeth.
“Not stupid, perhaps, but daring,” she went on. “I do not recognise your aura.”
Kae returned the smile, though it did not quite reach his eyes. “I doubt we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before, miss.”
She jumped down, heels clicking against the stone. “There are more devils in the Hells than stars in the expanse your ilk call the sky. How would you tell one from another?”
“Please. I never forget a pretty face.”
The devil’s expression did not even shift as the light of the circle winked out, its power extinguished and his way out gone in the blink of an eye. She raised a finger, the blood flaking off as if peeled. It spun like a liquid ribbon around her hand, glowing faintly.
“This magic,” she hissed. The blood splattered back on the tiles, discarded. “Why does it not repel mine? Who do you serve, warlock? Tell me, so that I may return your corpse to them as a reminder of what we think of meddlers?”
Kae’s smile widened. “What, can’t you tell? And here I thought our propagators were omniscient. A most bitter revelation, that.”
The devil’s expression soured. “I’ll force their name from your lips with your dying breath, if you won’t tell me willingly!”
“Oh, please. You’re going to kill me anyway, so what does it matter?” Discreetly, Kae pulled back his sleeve to scratch as the underside of his wrist, gathering his force as he did so. Fucking Hells, he had not wanted to resort to this. Kajo was going to murder him. “I’d rather this little thing stay between you and I, sweetheart. I’m not much for threesomes.”
With a snarl the devil launched herself at him, conjuring a black steel javelin out of thin air. Kae stared her down and pressed two fingers against the burn mark on his wrist, a single tongue of flame piercing it. He winked and let nothingness engulf him, stealing all air out of his lungs.
He inhaled sharply as the pressure withdrew, and nearly fell to his knees. Gone were the smoke and the wind; the air was heavy with the scent of fresh rain and blooming lilies-of-the-valley, and between the purple clouds the night sky stretched on a brilliant midnight blue.
Ahead stood a small house, lit lanterns hanging from its eaves, long, sheer curtains covering the doorways and windows. Kae stepped towards it, the waves he walked on rippling but not breaking beneath him. Each step let out a gentle sound like that of wind chimes.
All around the house and the stairs leading up to it there was life, plants growing lush, tall and wild. Enormous leaves resembling water lily pads floated in the water around the dock. Moss covered the walkways and railings, and despite the seemingly late hour it was not very dark. There was bioluminescent life everywhere, below the waves, in the flowers, even in the insects buzzing through the air. Only the moon was missing, the night basked in a much gentler light.
Kae brushed off the dried blood on his hand, the wound already healed. There was a hollow feeling in his head, a reminder of what the spell had cost him. He felt worn beyond physical exhaustion, stretched thin without the magic that usually heeded his every call. To cross the borders of the Realms was a feat that even gods could not do willy-nilly; it disturbed the natural order of things, ripped open seams between dimensions that were not meant to be touched. The ability was intended as a fail-safe, only to be used when all else went to hell, and he could not pull it off again anytime soon.
Kae let out a sigh as he brushed aside the curtains fluttering in front of the doorway. The satisfaction of his grand escape was dimmed by just one thing, and it was the knowledge that no magic he used escaped the notice of his god.
The house was deceptively small on the inside. One large drawing room, with a doorway leading to a smaller bedroom at the back. The winding staircase lead to a study upstairs, but he knew that was only what the house wanted him to see. Its physical constraints were just the surface; the upstairs became whatever its master needed it to be, and Kae was willing to bet several years of his lifespan that the true size of the house rivalled even the richest of castles in the mortal lands.
In many ways it was achingly familiar, a place of respite and memory, but currently seeing it vexed him, though nothing seemed out of place. Cushions on every chair and sofa, houseplants on every surface and hanging from the ceiling, candles that never burned out, neatly organised shelves, glass cabinets filled with objects both enticing and unsettling.
That was just the thing. It was too neat, like a trap waiting to spring.
Kae rolled his eyes and called, “let’s not play games. I know you’re home, and you know I’m here.”
For a full minute he was met with stony silence. He leaned against the doorframe, polishing his nails idly until the barest of tremors set the candles swaying in their holders.
The air grew oppressive and the walls burst at once with burning, undulating flesh. Had it had a mouth it would have howled in fury; it pulsated angrily, a hundred humanoid eyes larger than Kae’s fist squinting scathingly at him between the folds, then winking out of existence as they blinked. The flesh contracted then withdrew, forming the shape of a devil with a long tail much like Kae’s own, tall, curved horns that were just a touch asymmetrical, and a pair of leathery wings.
Their skin was the blush pink of a garden rose at dawn, deceptively sweet for something so deadly. He might have found the contradiction amusing had the eyes that bore into his not been angrier than he’d ever seen them.
“What,” Kajo hissed between gritted teeth, “, in the Hells is your problem, worm?”
Kae regarded his patron-god serenely, which only served to annoy them further. Their bare feet left hardly a sound as they strode closer, the hem of their white gown swishing between their legs with every step. The slits on each side left their legs bare to the hips, and what hips they were. Even in towering temper Kajo was a sight to behold. Tall even for a devil, with a shapely body and curves that drew the eye, their face a perfect, lovely oval.
That was where the loveliness ended, however. Kajo grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him closer none too gently. “Well? Have you nothing to say in your defence?”
“I got it,” Kae said lightly, conjuring the grimoire out of his bag. He held it out like a prize, smiling lazily. Kajo gave him a shove and let go, tearing the book out of his grip instead.
Their expression did not soften as they flipped through it, lips moving silently. They snapped the book shut. “Thank your luck it’s the right one, or I’d dispatch you myself.”
“Of course it’s the right one. What do you take me for, an amateur?”
It was the wrong thing to say, though, in Kae’s experience, everything was the wrong thing to say when they were like this. Kajo drew to their considerable height, sparks practically shooting out of their eyes as they bore straight into Kae once more.
“Forget amateur. A traitor, that’s what I ought to be calling you! Have you forgotten the terms of our pact, idiot?” With a flick of their hand the red flesh reappeared and enveloped the book with a disgusting wet sound. The unspeakable thing vanished as quickly as it had come, the book with it. “I thought I’d made it very clear to you: I will not be involved in the matters of devils!”
Kae rolled his eyes, brushing flecks of soot off his coat. “I’d hardly call a chance encounter involvement. So I piss off a demon once, big deal. She didn’t even recognise your magic.”
“What you do reflects on me,” Kajo replied, voice dropping dangerously. Their rosebud lips bore a very ugly look indeed. “Make enemies for us once more and I’m not only undoing our bond, I will be undoing your flesh on the cellular level so that there won’t be anything left to bury.”
“I make no promises I can’t keep,” he said, shrugging. “What can I do? I tend to annoy people as soon as they see my face.”
The blow came so suddenly that Kae hardly saw his god move. Searing pain erupted across his face and he staggered backwards, hissing as he brought a hand to his jaw and felt at it gingerly. The slap had been harsh; he could tell it had immediately raised a welt across his cheek.
“Well, that stung,” Kae managed. He tasted a tang of iron on his tongue.
“Start listening to me and wipe that grin off your fucking face, asshole. I warned you. I’ve warned you a million times before.” Kajo clicked their tongue. “How many more times does it have to be before something goes through that skull of yours?”
Kae winked, wiping a trail of blood off the corner of his mouth. “Always at least once more.”
He did not get the chance to cry out before a jolt of energy shot through him like a bolt of lightning, limbs seizing up involuntarily. Kajo’s mouth moved, forming a single syllable that clutched at his throat and forced all oxygen out of his lungs. He didn’t need to hear it spoken to feel it taking hold of his being, the air reverberating with the sheer force of the command, and it was a command, there was no mistaking it.
It felt the same as it had before; like a shockwave from within.
That had been their pact, the same as any warlock’s pact with his patron-god. A soul for magic, for power that otherwise eluded mortals. Kajo had remade his flesh and bound him, the name they’d gifted him the seal. It was a blessing and a shackle all at once, and the hand pulling the leash was never too far away.
He felt himself being lifted in the air and thrown across the room. Something warm tangled around his limbs and caught him before he could slam against the wall.
“Serves me right, I suppose,” he grumbled, voice raspy. “Should have picked a less volatile patron.”
The fleshy growth that had wrapped itself around him withdrew, dropping him unceremoniously. What he landed on was the bed, but the impact was still hard enough that he grimaced. Several plush cushions rolled on the floor following his fall.
“I prefer ‘operator’,” Kajo corrected in sour tones. “I’m not your sponsor.”
The doors and windows all snapped shut in unison, the candlelight turning purple. Kae quirked an eyebrow as he sat up. Kajo glided across the room with one shift beating of their wings, landing smoothly by the bed. They planted a knee on the edge of the bed, which made Kae smirk. The dress clinging to their skin left very little to imagination.
“Roughing me up gets you hot now, does it?”
He fell silent as Kajo grabbed his chin rather roughly and brought their lips together, kissing him with feverish abandon while their other hand worked on his belt. Kae shuddered into the touch, at the nails scraping at his skin, and grunted when they brushed against the sore welt on his face.
Kajo pulled away enough to look at him properly. They sighed irritably, leaned in and licked the raised scrape on his cheek, drawing another shudder from Kae. The soreness was gone in an instant, as though it had never existed, and he knew without asking that there wouldn’t be so much as a scratch the next day.
“You broke the rules. I want compensation,” Kajo murmured in his ear, warm lips already seeking more naked skin. Kae closed his eyes, fully enjoying the kisses they left down his neck, a little too harsh, a little too rough, but the hand that snaked beneath his shirt was surprisingly gentle as it began to ease him out of his trousers.
“This is not much of a punishment, you know.” He bit into his lip, a soft noise almost escaping his throat as Kajo slipped a hand between his legs, feeling the wetness already soaking through his underwear. “Quite, ah, the opposite, if you’re trying to drive a point home.”
“Shut up for once in your life.”
Kae unlaced their dress, breath hitching when Kajo palmed him through his underpants. With a couple of swift movements the dress was discarded on the floor, Kae’s garments joining it one by one. Coat, waistcoat, undershirt, boots, trousers. He pushed Kajo’s underpants down to their knees and took their cock in his hand, unable to hold back the grin when they swore under their breath, precome already oozing from the tip. The next kiss they shared was breathless, a wet mess of tongues and teeth.
“Fuck me already,” Kae muttered against his god’s lips, pumping their cock faster. He let out a soft oomph as he was suddenly pushed down on the bed, hands gripping his wrists firmly. Kajo bent over him, eyes blazing red in the gloom, a pair of soft breasts mere inches from Kae’s face. The thought went straight between his legs and he wanted, oh, how he wanted.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” came Kajo’s reply. Sharp nails left scrapes on his skin as they tore the underpants off him and pushed his legs apart. There would be bruises come morning, Kae knew. He smiled, but obeyed for once and said nothing more.
A sharp hiss escaped his mouth as Kajo pushed inside him, turning into a low, breathless moan when they started to move. There was no point in holding back, there was no one there to hear them, yet Kajo’s lips found his again and kissed him until he forgot where he ended and they began.
It was rough – it always was – but there was a strange tenderness in how Kajo knew how he liked it, in knowing they had memorised these minute details as though it mattered. Their fingers, interlaced with his. Their teeth, pinching at his lip, their tail wound around his. He could not speak, so he repeated their name in his mind like a feverish mantra, a devout man’s prayer, and he was never so faithful as during these moments.
They had both agreed, the first time, that it must never happen again, but gods had once been flesh and blood, too. They desired, they erred. One slip, two, until it was almost a routine. One pushed, the other gave, rinse and repeat. Kae knew they both protested merely out of habit; they were as inevitable as the sunrise.
A cool breeze tickled at Kae’s back later when lay curled in the sheets, red skin gleaming with slowly drying sweat. A hand pushed damp curls off his forehead, rubbing just so at the very base of his horns, which drew an involuntary shiver from him.
“I wish you were this quiet more often,” Kajo said, though there was no real heat behind the words anymore.
Kae let out a noncommittal grunt. He was not quite sure he remembered how to form words yet.
“My, aren’t you docile tonight?”
“You told me to shut up, so I shut up,” Kae managed a tad hoarsely. “Can’t a man enjoy his afterglow in peace, you cold-hearted wretch?”
“As if you ever bother to listen to me.” The mattress shifted. The ghost of a warm breath played across his lips, once more enticing, and he cracked open one eye to find Kajo leaning over him. Their expression was unreadable, but the hand combing through his curls was careful not to pull at any tangles. “You depleted your magic too far, the moron that you are. I can’t send you back until it has regenerated.”
“I know, I know.” Kae waved their hand away and regretted it as soon as their warmth was gone. “What do you want me to do?”
“Be a good boy for once, stay here for a couple of days, and rest. And don’t make this a habit.”
“Always happy to serve.” He yawned. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to that ‘rest’ part.”
Kajo laughed, actually laughed. The mattress shifted again as they got up, and Kae stole one more glance at them while their back was turned towards him. They stretched, all soft, perfect curves in the candlelight. With one flick of their finger the grimoire re-appeared out of thin air, landing in their waiting hands.
“If you need me, too bad. I’ll be enjoying my reading, and I have no intention of getting distracted again,” Kajo said.
Kae rolled over instead of answering. Sleep took longer to come than he cared to admit, even to himself, in the absence of another body beside his.