Posted by: Admin on Tuesday, July 23, 2002 - 03:09 PM 
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Angelique
by Maggie Finson
Part 3
Well, I got the details on the fly, so to speak, as Lorilei and I made a hasty flight toward one of the several gates Mama allows to be open between Home and Elsewhere. Elsewhere being anywhere that isn't Home; ie, the rest of Hell, The Human Realms, and especially Heaven. We stopped long enough to pick up Lorilei's strangely assorted group of so-called family, scooped up Syl along the way, and paused long enough to get my real battle armor.
Now, that was an experience. Getting my battle armor, I mean, the other things get pretty mundane after a few hundred times, if you know what I mean. Anyway, we all flocked, trooped, loped, pranced, and whatever else that bunch does, into an area of Hell I hadn't been to yet. For good reason, it turned out.
The place was kind of gloomy except for the homey, sullen red glow coming from the forge crouched inside a squat stone structure that only Dimona, Lorilei's personal Imp could have gotten into without going into pretzel imitations just to get through the door.
"Hallloooo, THE FORGE! Anybody Home?!!" Syl inquired in a moderate shout that only shook the closed door of thick oaken planks bound in heavy iron. "We're here to pick up a special order!"
"Well, ye don't have to shake the house down now, do ye?" a low, ominous grumble worked its way between the cracks between planks in the massive if diminutive door, soon followed by a figure wider than it was tall. "And which order would that be that ye're lookin' fer, so loudly?"
I could only stare at the creature. I think it was male, but between a tangled mass of thick hair, what was presumably a monstrous mustache, and a beard that was so long I wondered how the poor thing even walked without tripping itself, I was hard pressed to tell for certain, even with my succubus instincts and senses. Three feet of gnarled, stumpy limbs and granite-like skin stumped through the unlikely door and regarded us with beady red and yellow eyes. "Well? I got no time fer visitors, so state yer business and let's be done wit it."
"Quite right, Giruduir, old fellow," Syl nodded cheerfully, while completely ignoring the volcanic rumbling from the creature she was addressing. "We've come to pick up my sister's new battle armor."
"Oh, the runt's?" Giruduir, or whatever it was really named, grumbled with a deep chuckle. "Aye, I have it ready for the final fittin', but why in the name of once blessed Odin did you have me make it with those gods be damned slits in the backside? No decent armor has holes in it, mind you, but I make to order, as advertised. Where's the filly what'll be wearin' it?"
"Right here," Syl grinned, while pushing me forward. I managed not to stumble (too much) from the thunderous pat on the backside that propelled me forward, and got my progress halted within inches of the creature. Barely.
I could have sworn I heard creaks and pops as the dwarf looked me over critically, then broke into what would have been a wide grin on anyone else. On him (it was a he, it turned out) the grin looked more like a display of stained gravestones jutting out of diseased ground in a haunted churchyard. "Well, why din't ye say it was armor fer a Valkyrie? That be explainin' the slits in the backside, now, don't it? Fer her wings!"
He gleefully hopped from one foot to the other while bobbing forward in what I belatedly understood was supposed to be a bow of respect. "Welcome to Giruduir's Forge, Lady! It be an honor to fit this armor special to your lovely body, and it will protect ya...Aw shit."
He dropped the yokel accent all at once, and really bowed to me. "Lady, it is a privilege to serve you. I haven't seen a Valkyrie in over a thousand Human years, and you are a sight to behold, you are!"
"Thanks, I think," was about all I could get out.
"Old Luke stealing Old One Eye's designs now, is he?" The being I now recognized to be the fabled dwarven smith who had forged many of the Norse God's most powerful weapons glared at Syl while waiting for an answer.
"Oh, come on, Giruduir," Lorilei sighed, then chuckled. Two acts that positively delighted the gnarled Dwarf. "You know we got the rights to that basic body design once The Aesir and the Storm Giants beat each other to bloody pulps at Ragnarok."
"Aye." Giruduir gave a sigh every bit as hot as his legendary forge, then gave out a rumbling chuckle in response. "Ahh, but what a battle that one was..."
"Yes it was," my succubus sister nodded with a wide smile, "and I promise to come let you share the story with me once we get this other business finished up. Now, do you think we could get on with what we came for? I really don't mean to be rude, but we're facing our own Ragnarok if something doesn't get done soon. I don't think you'd really enjoy the aftermath of Armageddon any more than we would."
"Been there, done that, sweet lassie," Giruduir chuckled, then turned very serious as he looked me over again. "Well now, I can see a few little adjustments will be needed, but that shouldn't take too long. Come inside, and I'll get you fitted in armor fit for a goddess, Lady Angelique."
"Uh, inside..." Giving the extremely short and broad entryway a dubious look, I caught the unkempt Dwarven smith grinning mischievously at me, and giving me a rapid wink of one eye. "Well, why not?"
I followed him inside, expecting to be cramped from the start. Surprise, surprise! I found my stooped posture with wings carefully (and tightly) furled at my back to be completely unnecessary. The entrance was a tall, perfectly formed arch of red and white granite that left feet of space over my head, and was wide enough to accommodate my wings fully spread. That was shock number one. (You'll recall that I did use surprise twice, right?)
Number two was a dandy. Giruduir was no longer a squat, ugly rock-like creature. Inside his carefully maintained and scrupulously clean forge area, the Dwarf was both clean and very well groomed. With an obviously ready welcome showing through his leather pants. Okay, he was still squat, kind of ugly, and still very short. (In height, anyway. The bulge I more than idly noted at his crotch promised to make up for a lot of other potential deficiencies I had noted. My own nether regions tingled and became warm and moist as I noted the fact with some anticipation.)
Shaking out his heavy blonde mane and grinning from ear to ear, he regarded my shocked expression with obvious amusement. "So? You were expecting a real Rock Gnome or something? My kin and I, those of us who survived Ragnarok, have been banished under pain of dissolution by the present Powers in Heaven and Hell, but we still have our uses. So long as we don't flaunt our presence too much in the eyes of Mortals, Demons, or Angels, we can pretty much carry on as we like. Which is how I met that delightful creature, Lorilei -- carrying on. But that's another story for another time, my Lady."
"I suppose it would be." My answer was a bit wistful, but then I caught sight of a glittering set of chain mail so intricately wrought that it was difficult to see the individual links. It looked more like some bright, metallic fabric than true battle armor, but something about it told me in no uncertain terms that it was indeed battle armor. A finer suit of chain than had been forged in thousands of years, in fact.
"Shouldn't we get on with the fitting?" I questioned, barely able to tear my eyes away from the beautiful things. Heaven's Bane grumbled, then actually growled as I was doing that.
"Actually, Lady," Giruduir chuckled, with a quick glance to the entrance, then to my still grumbling sword, "no fitting will be needed at all. This armor will fit itself to you like a second skin on the first try, I promise you." He winked. "No, I brought you in here so your rather remarkable sword could get acquainted with the armor," he finished, quite seriously. "And to discuss the payment required for you to take the product of my efforts out of here."
"Payment?" I knew the legendary Dwarven smith reputedly demanded very high prices for his work, and got what his greedy little soul wanted if the buyer wished to have the results of his work. (Except for the time Loki jogged his elbow as he was forging Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, and the trickster refused to pay because the equipment didn't meet specifications. Giruduir was still pissed off about that one, even after all those intervening years.)
"That's right, Lassie," he replied. Continuing to stare at me with open greed and lust, the stumpy little godling (?) nodded so gleefully his upper torso joined in the motion. "In Payment for the armor I have forged for you, I get visits from your delectable friend, Lorilei, whenever I want to see her, and perpetual connubial rights with you."
"Uh," I mumbled, planting a hand on each hip, an unconsciously feminine gesture that had become so ingrained in me lately I didn't even notice it other than that I was bit put off at the idea. "Isn't that only if the armor fits, and functions as specified?"
"Aye," the dwarf nodded, with another lascivious grin for my benefit. "But my work always meets the standards of the deal. Go ahead and try it all out, sweet one, then we have a deal to consummate."
"So, let me get this straight," I mused. While taking in our surroundings, most notably, the rather large and new looking bed, the now very interesting bulge at my host's crotch, and racks of weapons and armor that warmed my Hell Maid's heart, I went on, "If the armor fits, and doesn't impede any of my actions, plus whatever else it was contracted to do, I live here, with you, when I'm not off on some of Hell's work?"
"Correct, Lassie."
"Oh." With a broad grin of my own, I shrugged, giving him a very good look at what he had demanded in payment and amused at his near school boy reactions to my shimmying flesh. "Well, it's warm and very homey in here... All right, let's get on with the fitting. Didn't you say something about letting Heaven's Bane be introduced to the armor?"
"Aye." All business again, Giruduir briskly gestured toward the magnificent armor draped on a stand off to the side. "Since the sword is sentient, as is the armor, both with your own delightful essence, there shouldn't be any conflict, but it would be wise to let them get used to each other before going into combat with them."
"You know, that makes sense to me." With a sigh, I shook my head. Well, I had a sentient sword, uh broadsword, actually. Why not sentient armor to go with it? But HB wasn't all that happy with the proposed meeting. Not at all. She actually pulled away from the waiting armor on its stand, jerking my arm, then me toward the entrance. I yanked back with all the physical force I could muster while chiding the damned jealous thing. "Oh, no you don't, HB. You are going to be at least polite and let Giruduir introduce you to that armor. Clear?"
I got the equivalent of a sigh of resignation from HB, then a grudging agreement. In more sober moments, I still find myself laughing at the image of a silver haired beauty arguing with a sword about meeting a suit of armor. At the time, I just kind of let the flow of things take me wherever the currents wanted to drag me.
"Are you telling me," I carefully looked from Dwarf to the gleaming armor resplendent on its stand, "that this armor is alive, too?"
"That's what I said," the grinning fool of a smith to the old gods replied, barely hiding his mirth at my discomfiture.
"Okay, fine." My voice sounded a little weak, but still game. Why not? After my own transformation and training as both a succubus and Hell Maid, then being presented with a broadsword that had a mind that was definitely its own, I could see no reason at all to balk at the idea of even fully sentient armor. "Now what?"
"Just walk over to the armor stand," he instructed, "and set Heaven's Bane, in her scabbard, mind you, in the loop made for her. Then stand back and watch."
I did. I almost didn't stand far enough back. Whenever I hear the expression 'sparks flew when they met', I think of that particular time. Only, sparks isn't nearly descriptive enough. Try lightning, with rumbles of thunder and a few whirlwinds thrown in for variety, and you might come close. Almost. When Heaven's Bane met Hell's Defenses (the armor and wickedly horned helmet) I was almost knocked right off my feet.
Truthfully, if it hadn't been for my wings, I'd have been bouncing off my shapely butt. As it was, I ended up in Giruduir's brawny arms. "Hmmmm, not such a bad place to be, my good smith. Mind if I stay here awhile?"
"Not at all, Angelique," he grinned and groped, or maybe it was groped and grinned. I should have been really outraged, having been a very long-lived male before getting sent to Hell after I had been foolish enough to die at last. Old, ingrained male sensibilities raised their heads for about thirty seconds, then retreated in abject defeat as my body took control of the situation.
I was right in the middle of wondering if I'd spent several centuries as a repressed transsexual or had been gay without realizing it when ***ZOWIEE! POP! BANG! FIZZZZZZZZZZZ! BOOM!***
"Oh, myyyy............." I trailed off as he kissed me again. Trust me on this one, folks. When a being like Giruduir, even an old, publicly discredited and banished one, kisses a gal, she damn sure knows she's been kissed. Whether she's really quite ready to be a gal or not. My brain went into temporary overload from all the input mixed with the quandary I had been so briefly worried about earlier. I was pretty sure my toes were sizzling from the heat generated in my suddenly warmly wet crotch, and my poor nipples were standing out at attention so stiffly that they felt like getting ready to launch and leave my breasts (heaving, of course) with a shower of sparks bright enough to light up the deepest, darkest pits of Hell.
I wasn't sure which one of us pulled the other toward the huge bed in one corner, but it was pretty well clear that Lorilei had been awhile between visits with the very horny old dwarf I was entangled with. I won't go into gory details just now, but we sent out a storm of our own that must have overawed the armor and my sword, because when our smoke (literally -- I was and am a Hell-spawn, and Giruduir is still master of a powerful magical forge, after all) cleared enough to see, armor and sword were quietly waiting for me.
"Ohhh," I breathed, as we disentangled from each other with pauses for more appreciative stares mutually traded. "I think I'm in love."
"Do I still have it, or do I still have it?" Giruduir chuckled, then gave me a humorously leering grin. "I sure know you have it, and in an abundance that would have kept Asgaard plenty busy through those long winter nights. Where have you been hiding all these long, lonely ages?"
"Places you'd have never thought of looking," I answered coyly, then chuckled as a ludicrous image of my old male self and the dwarf trying to reach the 'inner me' flashed across my mind.
"What?" the old, but definitely not worn out smith questioned.
"Oh, nothing," I grinned, and tickled his nose with part of his beard, which drew a snort out of him that sent sparks flying from the banked coals in the forge. "Just a girl thing. You wouldn't find it funny at all."
"Well, you might be surprised," he responded, then gestured toward the armor. "Best start getting into that. Your companions will be wondering what's going on. Except for Lorilei, probably, but she's a smart lady and won't tell anyone how you paid for your new armor."
"Not that I'd care!" With an internal sigh of loss, I moved away from my lover and neared the armor on its stand. "Now, I'd better start getting into this stuff."
"Not before you put on the padding," he cautioned. "One good strike by an enemy without good cured leather between your delectable flesh and that chain would have you tattooed forever."
"Oh," my chagrined agreement changed to pure pleasure as a sheathing of the strangest leather dyed in an azure tint appeared on my body, covering me from knees to throat, to wrists in supple, luxuriously soft layers of thin leather with small metal disks sandwiched in between. "Ohhhhh, that's nice. What kind of leather is it?"
"Dragon hide, cured and softened with the scales turned inside then covered with a liner of gryphon hide," came the proud answer. "I spent far more time working that leather than the armor itself. About a century on the leather, then fifty Human years on the armor."
"Oh." Thinking of wearing something a smith to gods had spent so much time and effort making was nothing short of awe inspiring, then I wondered who it had originally been intended for.
"You, my love," he smiled, then grinned lasciviously at me in nothing but the skin hugging leather, my wings and tail. "Being akin to gods, even banished ones, still has a few perks. I knew you were coming long before your human shell was even born."
"Are you telling me that you foresaw my coming to you for the armor, and uh, well, everything else?"
"That's right, Hell's Valkyrie," Giruduir nodded soberly. "The weirds showed me my promised beloved well in advance of the first true meeting. Now, to get you into Hell's Defense." Changing the subject without so much as flinching, he gestured to the glittering chain mail. "Just call it, and you'll be ready to go."
"Call it?" Skeptically, I gave the assorted pieces a looking over, then shrugged. "Ah...Hell's Defense, come to me!"
I was stunned by the volume and power in my voice as I called out a summons I'd never thought of using. Then was amazed to discover that the crazy idea had worked! I was clad in glittering chain mail that was as flexible and light as if I was wearing regular clothing. The heavy looking helmet, with its wickedly curved and sharp horns, was firmly on my head, and Heaven's Bane quite comfortably across one hip on a beautifully tooled leather belt and equally lovely scabbard.
"Wow!" My barely breathed reaction was hardly enough to do the event proper justice, but I didn't have a full symphony orchestra in my back pocket at the time. The horned helm sat comfortably over my head while doing nothing at all to impede either sight or hearing. "This is great!"
"Magnificent," my recent lover amended, whether for me in the armor, the armor itself, or something else altogether (Involving me, of course. Sure, I'm vain about that, but you try being sanguine when a being like Giruduir specifically tells you that you are the true love he has been waiting through generations to meet.) "Truly magnificent, my Lady."
"Well," reluctantly I turned back to the doorway, "I suppose it's time to get going, isn't it?"
"You'll do fine," he assured me, then made a shooing gesture that finished in a thrown kiss.
I could have sworn I felt my cheek burning in exactly the pattern a pair of male lips would have made as I left The Forge to rejoin my friends.
* * *
"Very impressive, Angelique!" Lorilei grinned at me as I emerged, and I could tell from the twinkle of mischief in her eyes that she knew all too well I hadn't gone inside for a fitting. At least, not for the armor, anyway.
Helga stalked forward, sniffed at the armor, then gave a low growl. (Hell's Defenses, both of them, with HB thrown in growled back.) The Hellhound drew back with a doggish grin and lolling of her tongue that showed she was laughing. "I like it! That stuff's alive and has an attitude. Old Giruduir must really like you, sweetie!"
Like wasn't quite the word I would have used after that sizzling, mind numbing experience I'd had in the forge itself -- with the dwarf gleefully helping me along -- but I didn't bother to correct the Hell Hound. "I guess so, Helga." She grinned, seemingly quite knowingly.
"Now what?" I questioned a vastly amused Lorilei, while shifting the straps of my too-sentient armor to relieve the breasts it seemed determined to caress until I started moaning and cumming all over again. Then added quietly, "You and I need to talk."
"About what?" she questioned innocently, which was actually a pretty good trick, considering what she was.
"About the price for this stuff!" Gesturing at the armor and shield, I grimaced, then gave her my best gimlet stare.
"What, you didn't enjoy the first installment?"
"That doesn't matter, but yes, I did!" With an internal sigh of satisfaction, I had to force myself into a more belligerent mood. "You could have at least warned me!"
"Oh, don't worry so much," Lorilei grinned. "Giruduir is expecting some kind of double dealing out of us over all this. Just stick to the bargain, and he'll soon discover that living with a Hell Maid who is also a Succubus is a bit more strenuous than even that randy old misfit can handle."
"I don't know about that," I responded doubtfully. "He seemed quite pleased with the first payment."
"Of course he was, dear," my smaller sister grinned wickedly, "but future installments will show him what a handful he's taken on with you, along with some pretty frequent visits from yours truly to spice up the action and leaven the connubial bliss."
"Ahh," I giggled in understanding. (I will never, never, never get used to giggling like some school girl, but that's part of the Succubus schtick that I'm stuck with.) "We're going to suck the old dear dry, aren't we?"
"Sucking that old reprobate dry isn't possible," Lorilei answered, with a giggle of her own. "But we sure can wear him out, if you know what I mean."
I did, and had to laugh at the thought of that randy, greedy old dwarf begging the light of his life to leave him alone so he could get some much needed rest.
"I see that you do get it," Lorilei responded, with an evil little grin.
"I sure do!"
"Now we go to the Human Realms, to meet the others involved with this idiotic scheme," the tiny, but very powerful Succubus responded with something less than enthusiasm, but more aplomb than acknowledging a death sentence. "Ready?"
"Nope," I replied in perfect honesty. Not that it helped, since the little tart had already turned away, waved her slender arms around a bit (theatrics, but Lor always has been one to draw out the show if she can) and muttering in a sing-song voice, and had opened a portal right in front of the assembled group.
"No sense in delaying the inevitable," she grumped once that was finished, and gestured toward the yawning black hole in the air with a wicked, and nervous grin. "Let's go."
* * *
I won't bother describing where we came out in The Human Realms. That has already been done. All I'll say is, the only one of our party who liked it was the Hell Hound. Got the picture? If not, don't expect me to elaborate. It was smelly, nasty, and very, very dirty.
I sat on a dead rat (very dead, and indescribably noxious), swore, and threw it violently away from myself. The noisome missile landed right in front of Helga's nose, so I made a permanent friend right away even if it had been by accident. Seeing (mostly hearing, it was really dark down there) the Hell Hound chew, slurp, and snort while consuming that morsel nearly made me ill. If I'd had anything resembling solid food in my stomach, I would have thrown up all over my feet. Happily, I didn't have the first, so I didn't do the second. But it was a close one.
Helga protested mightily when we had to literally haul her out of that horrible sewer. But those protests were nothing compared to the howls of indignation she let out when caught in the general cleaning spell Lorilei cast on the group.
"Oh, quit it, Helga!" the Succubus chided in a small fit of pique, while the Hell Hound whimpered as if bereft of her favorite chew toy. (Its name was Girard -- which pleased me to no end, by the way.) "There is no way either we or our allies in this venture in pure stupidity will put up with you smelling like the bottom of some sewer."
"I happen to like smelling that way!" a still miffed Helga retorted, sniffing hopefully for anything the cleaning spell might have left behind while grumbling, "You could have left at least a little whiff for me to enjoy."
"Just stick your nose in that garbage can over there," I suggested helpfully. "That should hold you over for awhile."
"Hey, yeah!" The morose Hell Hound brightened immediately, then bounded over to investigate a whole collection of noxious items beside the back door of a Chinese Restaurant. "Oh, yum! Fish and cat guts! Oh glory, oh glorious, lovely scents..."
Any further comments from her were lost in a series of sickening slurps, chomps, and disgustingly ecstatic sighs echoing from inside one garbage can or another. The others exchanged long suffering glances, then glared at me.
"Hey," I defended myself, "at least she isn't howling like a puppy that just lost its mother any longer."
"Got a point there," Dimona agreed with a giggle, while the others grudgingly agreed with the imp.
"All right, then." Lorilei gave me a halfway amused glance that shifted to the happy Hell Hound. "You can drag her out of those cans, since it was your idea to get her interested in them."
It finally took both myself and a laughing Syl to detach Helga from her gustatory treasures, and we both ended up carrying one end of a very indignant Hell Hound. (Guess which end I got? I'll think carefully about suggesting anything regarding garbage or trash to that demonic canine again, I can tell you that much.)
"Bite me, and I'll pull that forked tongue out far enough to tie your mouth shut with it," Syl warned, as Helga gave her arm a thoughtful, still hungry and slightly vengeful look.
"And don't even think about...Aack!" I found that dodging the products of a Hell Hound's nether regions while carrying that end of said Hell Hound is not possible without being a better contortionist than I am. If you think the stuff was nasty going in, I won't go into how it was coming out. (Use your imaginations, okay?) Brushing the disgusting deposit off myself with my free arm, I grumbled in halfway amused chagrin, "Someone find me a cork. A big one, please."
That time I did throw up. There was ectoplasmic goo spread all over Helga's hindquarters. So I suppose I got my little bit of revenge, didn't I?
Lorilei took my end on the way up while I finished cleaning up and searched in vain for a large cork.
* * *
Once outside, and cleaned up, we found the ones we were supposed to meet. Helga's hackles raised at the sight, and if you've never seen a Hell Hound with raised hackles -- all sharp scales and looking like some insanely deadly flower with a canine pistil, I wouldn't advise going out of your way to see it. Trust me, that sight was truly daunting, even to me, Syl, and the Angels that had caused the reaction.
One of those Angelic personages nodded in our direction with a scowl while muttering something about 'the princess finally showing up' while not bothering to hide his distaste at associating with minions of Hell.
Lorilei smiled very sweetly, (a danger signal clear as a red flag going up a flagpole in the middle of a flat plain to those of us who knew her at all) and replied with her usual flippant panache. Then she vanished. To be replaced with a vision of Angelic feminine beauty blatantly mooning the offending Angel. Who then had the effrontery to become even more offensive: so much so that he went to the point of drawing his impressively flaming sword and moving toward my shape changed friend with clearly bad intent.
Hell's Defenses hummed like some kind of dynamo, and I was suddenly flooded with energy, while I found Heaven's Bane, complete with icily glittering blue flames to counterpoint the Heavenly Fire of the Angel's weapon, firmly in my grasp and myself instinctively moving to place myself between the boorish Angel and Lorilei.
Syl was ranged at Lorilei's other side while Helga, hackles still impressively rampant, bounded to stand defiantly in front of her mistress. I thought Dimona had simply departed for less troubled climes, until I caught a brief glimpse of a stealthy little figure brandishing a wicked looking wavy bladed weapon directly behind one of the other Angels. (Remind me to never, ever piss off an imp. Those little suckers are not only sneaky, they can fight if they have to, and fight very effectively. It's really hard to hit something you can't see.)
Lorilei defused the brewing brawl with what I was to learn to be her usual aplomb in tight situations by grinning cheerfully at the angry Angel and telling him, "Oh, chill out. You were thinking the very same thing that I just showed you. How would your wife feel about you having those kind of fantasies about her?"
"She wouldn't mind at all," the Angel grated out grudgingly, then took a wary step back when he noticed the not inconsiderable force arrayed against his intended assault on our diminutive leader.
"Then what harm was done?" I swear, Lorilei had to have been absolutely insane. She never even flinched when that one was moving in her direction with clear intent to skewer her delectable little ass, and other parts of her anatomy, and even seemed amused by all of it. "The rest of you calm down, too. Nothing is going to happen here, right?"
"Uh, right," the Angel responded, with a sheepish expression on his rugged face, while carefully sheathing his sword.
All of that gathering gave out a chorused sigh of relief as the snick and rasp of weapons being returned to their resting places filled the area. I noted a powerful, but fading glow around Lorilei and idly wondered how she managed to gather that much power in such a short time, let alone dissipate it without catastrophic results for the surrounding real estate. Or the people inhabiting it. Not that I was complaining, neither was anyone else who had noticed the phenomenon. That little thing is irreverent, saucy, attracts trouble like a bowl of raw meat draws the neighborhood dogs, and also happens to be scary as all Hell let loose for a holiday rampage without any limits being set on the mayhem that would result in.
The one non-Angelic member of the other group vented his own sigh while covered with sparks from a very subtle, but dangerous spell he had been preparing being harmlessly dissipated into the pavement. That one, I immediately recognized without knowing exactly how I did it, was one of our opposite numbers in Hell's Legions, an Incubus. He wasn't as flamboyant as the female version, but subtlety has its good points. That one, by the way, was powerful enough to cause the trio of Angels more than a little unease in his presence.
"My apologies, Lady." The one time belligerent Angel offered a low bow to Lorilei. "And my compliments to your companions. A very formidable group you have traveling with you. I am called, by the way, Septham."
"Well, I see you haven't lost your touch, Lor." Another Angel, larger and more regal than the other two, bowed almost formally to our leader, then grinned irrepressibly. "You manage to draw more emotion out of beings who should know better in mere moments than others have managed in centuries of trying."
"Nice to see you again, too, Ariel." Lorilei nodded at the Angel with a smirk, then returned her attention to the Angel who had called himself Septham. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
"Septham, and Tiand here, were both prisoners of Girard," Ariel informed her with a chuckle. "Both were among the surly lot of Angels you so kindly, and generously, handed over to me after you killed the mage."
"Oh, Hell!" Lorilei laughed at the further dispirited expressions on the other two Angels' faces, then softened that with a genuine smile that would have warmed the reaches of the deepest darkest void in Hell, or anywhere else. "I couldn't figure out what to do with over a dozen Angels, anyway. I literally caught hell for that one, by the way. Seems that Hell did have use for them, until I so blithely gave them away. But they had been a long time away from home, and I just couldn't haul them down to the pits, you know?"
"For which Heaven is duly, if reluctantly, grateful, my dear," Ariel replied. "The Hosts aren't used to being in the debt of a Hell Spawn, but we're slowly getting used to the idea."
"Stranger things have happened," the ebullient little Succubus replied as she shrugged, causing no small amount of muffled groans and drooling from the male members of the party.
"Mostly around you." Ariel gave the undulating flesh that shrug caused an appreciative look, then shrugged himself. "But some of us are not destined for a quiet existence, and you seem to be one of the noisier ones among that company, milady."
"Oh, you noticed?"
"Everyone in Heaven, Hell, and other realms have noticed, my dear," the Angel responded with a mild chuckle. "You do not go anywhere quietly."
"Quiet doesn't seem to be one of my talents," Lorilei grumbled, then drew herself up to her full (unimpressive in the company of Angels and Hell Maids) height to give the trio of Angels a long, calculating look. "And I sense a change of plans here, don't I? One I'm going to like even less than the idiotic idea of playing worm to our Rogue's fish, unless I'm wrong."
"Perceptive, as usual," Ariel agreed with her assessment, without really agreeing. "Please come over here, and I'll outline the new game plan."
The rest of us were left sizing each other up from our various positions, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when a rich baritone quietly reached my ear, from close enough to let me feel the heat of the breath that drove it. "You must be Angelique."
I turned to see the Incubus giving me the usual male once over, and nodded once. "That's me. Now, who might you be?"
"Forgive me." Slightly abashed, he drew back a pace and gave me a deep, formal bow with his glorious spread of leathery wings adding gravity to the gesture. "I am Richard, Lorilei's former lover when we were mortals."
"That either means Lor was gay as a male, or..." I trailed off with the sour thought that changing sex was becoming a common denominator among my new acquaintances and associates in Hell.
"I was a woman," Richard finished for me. "Which was the case."
"I'm not surprised." My response sounded a bit weary. "Given everything that has happened to me since I had the poor judgment to let myself get killed, not much surprises me lately. By the way, that was a fine piece of spell weaving you did earlier."
"Thanks," he acknowledged my praise with a small, endearingly quick smile. "You didn't do so badly yourself. I thought His Honor was going to piss his Heavenly Pants when you jumped out with that sword glittering like ice."
"Thanks, yourself." I returned the smile, liking this one for reasons I couldn't really describe to myself, and it wasn't the usual Incubae power over females. Succubae were immune to that, as he was to the more subtle blandishments of my kind. "That's the kind of reaction a Hell Maid is supposed to engender when she is ready for a fight."
"I particularly liked the part where you lifted yourself off the ground with your wings," he continued. (I do not remember doing that!) "Most impressive."
"YOU WANT ME TO WHAT??!" Our conversation was cut very short by Lorilei's screech of absolute, indignant, amazement. "SEDUCE an ANGEL?!! That means getting a whole LOT closer to him than I like!"
That outburst lowered in volume, and we heard the soothing, conciliatory tones of Ariel's beautiful voice murmuring something to her. Not that it calmed her down much, if any, but at least she didn't rattle the nearby windows any longer.
* * *
"Lor," I quietly informed my smaller sister after she and Ariel had briefed us on the new and improved plan, "no wonder you're scary. You are INSANE!"
"Kind of helps in our line of work, hon," she responded with a half-hearted grin. "Besides, if you think I'm in love with the idea of being the entree on Shen'Dai's matrimonial table, you're the one who's out of her mind. Trust me, I'm not happy about this at all. And someone is going to hear about it if I survive. TWO some ones!"
That last was spat out with a glare for Ariel's benefit, who had the grace to appear both embarrassed and upset over the whole thing. The Angel only shrugged in reply, with an unhappy expression on his face.
"So, what are we supposed to do here?" I questioned acidly. "Hide our eyes and count to a million, then shout, 'Ready or not, here we come!'?"
"Just give us an hour's head start," the lovely little Succubus answered. "That should be enough for me to really muddy our trail for you hunters."
"All right." I gave up, ignoring Syl's snicker at my disgusted tone of voice. "So you, the Hell Hound, and the Imp run like Heaven, Hell and some unnamed third party is hot after your pretty tail, and we just hang out with the Angels."
"I'm no Angel," Richard interposed almost mildly.
"We really aren't such bad sorts, you know," Septham added carefully. "Look at it as an interesting exercise in balance, and a new note of cooperation between our two conflicting sides."
"Supernatural Glasnost," I muttered, then, letting out a defeated sigh, I accepted the inevitable with something like good grace. "We see if we can avoid chopping, frying, or otherwise killing each other until you manage to give us a link we can use to either gate in or break through his defenses when He's occupied with cute little you."
"That about covers it."
* * *
Lor and company hightailed it out of there, and those of us remaining behind dutifully argued about what we should do if and when we caught up with them, and who was in charge. Naturally, we Hell Spawns disliked the simple idea of taking orders from an Angel, even if Ariel was a friend of Lorilei's and had seniority on all of us.
The Angels, for their part, absolutely refused to accept one of Lucifer's minions as a commander, and were more than a little vocal about that point. The discussion nearly degenerated into a pitched battle before Syl and Ariel got us sorted out. Mostly with freely delivered slaps, punches, and bellowed commands to get the participant's attention.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" both of then roared at the same time, as Ariel slapped Septham's sword arm down and Syl actually gripped my own with enough force to bruise me through the armor.
"Now," Ariel glared at all of us and lowered his voice, "that's much better. We have to work together here, and neither I nor Sylvanna will tolerate so much as a raised fist from one of you to another. Got it?"
"We're waiting for an answer," Syl grated out, giving us all one of her own very effective hellish glares.
The rest of us, caught between Heavenly Wrath and Hellish Fury, drew in deep breaths and grumbled out acknowledgements.
"I will be in overall command," Ariel informed us while wearing an expression that was both amused and pained all at once. "Sylvanna is to be my second. Anyone, and I mean ANYONE who fails to follow one of her commands without a direct countermand from me is going to be doing gate duty sorting out the new souls for a very long time to come. Understand?"
We did.
"No more arguments, no more fights, and especially," Ariel growled, "No. More. Dissent. From. Any. Of. You. We are a team, and by the Heavenly Hosts, we're going to act like one."
I gave Septham, Tiand, and Richard each a glance accompanied with a small shrug, as they did much the same with the rest of our quartet. "I'll be good, at least as good as someone like me can be."
The others put in their own separate agreements, to Ariel and Syl's satisfaction.
"Now, I think our quarry has had enough of a head start," Ariel grinned, as he waved to the teeming streets that had been oblivious to the near battle in an out of the way alley.
Read Part 4
Note: Read Part 1 or Part 2 |
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