Chasing The Demon

Chasing the Demon

Gateway Book 2

By Louise G. White

Copyright © 2014

by Louise White

All rights reserved. Distributed by Smashwords. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Also by Louise G. White

The Gateway Series:

The Calling (Book 1)

Pledged (Book 3)

For Mum

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

A Personal Note From Louise

Glossary

Acknowledgements

Also by This Author

Prologue

Where now are my strength and my cocky self-assuredness? thought Mario as he shovelled mouthfuls of slop into his mouth. I’m nothing. I’m little more than an animal struggling to survive, hoping somehow that my folly has not ruined the lives of so many others that I’ve come to care about. Thrusting the empty bowl away in disgust, he knew that his ill humour wasn’t just about the food.

Here sits Mario, the only Lilim of his adopted world and the most important being on this world, currently delirious in self-derision believing he cares for others who exist on or around his world.

A harsh, self-mocking noise erupted from Mario’s lips. Thinking of oneself in the third person is sure to be a clue as to how well my mental health is faring. I should congratulate myself.

Nights and days had passed, Mario being haunted by faces that bore eyes of a much missed range of shades but that pierced and tortured him.

The Lilim’s body trembled, and he traced a symbol in the air that shimmered with his residual magic. The small act would ensure the solitude he felt he needed until he gained composure.

The horrible food was a stupid ploy, a way of distracting his thoughts from what was really bothering him. Working under the Protectorate, there had been times when he had made do with worse fare than this. But not every stinking day.

He ate also to try to keep up the strength he had managed to retain. Were it not for what he had learned under Sean’s instruction, he would have been trapped there with nothing but his shield and Lilim guile … Not that the latter did him much good with the Lilim guards, and his skill worked not at all with stronger Lilim like their leader, Arthur. Mario had deemed it not worth the effort to try influencing Peter or Patrick of the Chief’s inner circle, sensing the measure of their strengths. Both could make his life even more difficult than it was now if he challenged them.

Suspecting Peter to be the stronger and more focused of the two, the Lilim was certainly crueller than any other Lilim he had met. At Arthur’s right hand, Peter had access to whatever he wanted – and Mario had to hope that his benefits did not include Carolyn.

Shaking the thought away, a greasy lock of Mario’s hair slapped his face. Irritated, he smoothed it back. If things had gone differently – if life had been fair – then he would have returned to the others and been able to experience life as an adult. But here he sat, trapped, not only by the bars that surrounded him but in the body of his fifteen-year old self. The perpetual pubescent form mocked him, tormenting him much more effectively than anything his captors could envisage.

When he had first met Carolyn, he had been taken with the fact that she was the destroyer, and there had been no clue of her being part-Lilim. In surfing her mind, he had abused his ability, citing his impetuousness as being to blame, and she had been more forgiving than he would have been given the same circumstances.

How could it be that he had been in her mind and not recognised the signs? Even in hindsight, he could not recall anything that would have suggested her heritage. Certainly, she had the good looks of the Lilim, but there had been nothing else. Had the strange mix of everything else she happened to be messed up the markers?

Unlike in many other races, Arthur had become the Lilim Chief not through accident of birth but because of his superior powers, and he was the Lilim to whom Mario owed his inability to age.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time to run off to a life with the humans, and the thought of the first few months with the human beings almost raised a smile. Mario had left trouble in his wake and caught the attention of Sean. Never before had he known such a powerful magic user, and the mage had been harsh with him while accepting the risk of Mario’s apprenticeship. It had seemed strange that the first meaningful relationships on his new world had been with a collection of fellow magic users and enforcers. When the full effects of his punishment had become apparent, he had trusted in Sean’s abilities to reverse the process and re-enable his ageing, but all attempts had been fruitless.

Living apart from the Lilim for so long, Mario had forgotten how they operated. Wearing nothing but filthy combats that covered his legs, he had been left in the cell to rot. Marking time by scraping his nails on the slabs beneath him, he noticed that the scarred slabs bore similar designs from previous occupants, but he sensed that his were the only ones of recent years. This type of treatment of imprisonment was reserved for the worst of high-born Lilim who it was judged could not be controlled or rehabilitated properly.

He scored the seventh scratch through the six faint lines that marked the passing of another week, wondering if his captors were also marking time – the time before they put an end to him. He imagined that he had been incarcerated for three weeks following their most recent attempt to rehabilitate him; it had surely not been more. Some days had been worse than others, and Mario was uncertain of whether he had marked all of the days since their capture.

How had the Lilim known to expect them? He was certain that they had been waiting.

He had learned that Carolyn was not just any interloper on the realm of Empustat; she was Arthur’s daughter by blood. Could Arthur have traced her presence by blood alone? The fact of the blood tie should have given him hope that her lot would be easier, but Mario burned with an unfamiliar emotion – shame – at the thought of what could be happening to her.

Strangely, he felt almost as bad for her Kistatus demon, Note. The pair had indeed been something to behold. Unbelievably, she had Anchored to the snake-demon after two years of being a pure untamed destroyer, policing the gateways without the Protectorate safety net. That net had proved tenuous when her breeder status had emerged, forcing her to accept Note’s Claiming in order to protect her from other demons. Other races would be compelled to do whatever it took to acquire her, in the interests of the furtherance of their species. He still didn’t understand the decision of the pair to mute the more physical effects of the Claiming. Things might have been very different if they hadn’t have watered down the process.

Apart from the obvious advantages – and it was perhaps the hormonal effect on his teen body – Note and she would have been inseparable. The Kistatus should never have let the destroyer out of his sight. And how long ago was it that Note’s claim had become invalid? How long did she have before her father would gift her to some Lilim powerful enough to succeed him and ensure his continuity in the mechanism that ruled the land? And what of Carolyn? All of her skill, passion, and ferocity would be lost – just like Mario’s ability to age.

They had come to Arthur’s realm at Mario’s insistence to steal an artefact from the race to help restore his ageing to Lilim normality, but the Chief had taken charge of both of their lives as forfeit. Didn’t the punishment fail to fit the crime – especially given that Carolyn’s moral code would have led her to return the artefact? Mario clung to the hope that both of them could make it through this. Otherwise, why continue to exist?

He curled his fingers, tangling grubby fists into his dirty hair until the flesh stung furiously. Who I am trying to deceive? He had failed in his responsibility to Carolyn. She had confessed her shield failure when they had come to Empustat, and he had been blasé, telling her that he could adequately protect the pair of them.

Even now, he could make excuses for his egocentrism. If they hadn’t been discovered and hadn’t needed to fight then they could have accomplished their goal and returned to the relative security offered by the Protectorate.

Uncurling his fingers, Mario remembered the look on Carolyn’s face as she had succumbed to the attack. They would have conditioned her by now, taken everything from her mind that they didn’t need her to have. In a similar way to what had happened to Sam, who cared for them back home on Earth, his people would have reduced Carolyn to a shadow of her former self.

Damn it all to hell. Her mind would be mush!

Mario cares. He should make a note of it in his diary.

Chapter 1

Choking sand swirled up from the dry land of Sedert, creating a fog around the enforcers as they struggled against their unexpected adversary. Note felt the Rakshasas’s blade cut the air at his side as he dodged back. Mel scrambled further behind him, presumably to prepare a spell. She would not let him down.

The bulky demon wielded his sword with frightening precision, and Note leapt away from the massive blade again. He believed that if he could focus solely on the Rakshasas, the large demon would be no match for Kistatus’s agility.

Yes, that’s a plan. Simply wear him out by running around.

Sadi’s voice spoke cuttingly in his mind. He didn’t need this right now. Note could feel that the situation was irritating to her. Of course, when the entity had been a part of Carolyn, the superior powers of the destroyer were enough to keep the grumbling parasite happy. Sadi and happy were not words that belonged in the same sentence.

There’s a reason that featherweight and heavyweight boxers don’t fight in the ring together.

Note had lived with the humans long enough to get the reference, and his lips thinned in concentration as he tried to ignore her.

The Rakshasas was swinging again, and Mel shrieked, piercing the air behind him. He turned mid-leap and saw Mel scrambling back on the loose terrain, about to topple over the edge of the sand dune behind him. He lunged far forward and made a grab for her. He was too late. With a loud expletive, she spit out a nasty sand-and-saliva mix, tumbling back to slide unceremoniously down the length of the sand dune. The streaming cloud of particles caused her to choke and wretch.

Their gateway call to the Mow realm had surprised them. They no longer had the advantage of the speedy hotline that Carolyn had to the gateways, and, as a result, response times sometimes meant that their quarry had disappeared before the arrival of the team. Carolyn was the destroyer, magically drawn to the gateways, where the team relied on a combination of their lesser abilities and technology to carry out their mission of policing the gateways.

Certainly, the large, jelly-like Mow demons with their loathsome stinging attack weapons were to be found on their arrival. But with the added difficulty of a Rakshasas guard aiding and abetting within the realm, it had been impossible for the Protectorate team to simply remove their targets and run.

Last year, Carolyn had thwarted the Mow race during a call, and for many months it had seemed that the demons had learned their lesson. Note could think of no reason that the Rakshasas would join forces with Mow. The Rakshasas’s High mage, Roland, had posed a problem with Carolyn for a time, and Note’s fellow enforcer, Mel, had been rescued from the Rakshasas home realm of Rask. Mel had joined their ranks against the trafficking of humans through the gateways to the demon worlds.

Note tried to at least feel comforted that today he didn’t have to go against the dark magic for which Roland was renowned. The fact that they faced an ordinary foot soldier here was a bonus, although it was hard to focus on the positive now as the Rakshasas drove him back to the edge of another sand dune.

The best plan to get away from these demons was always to run. The build of the Rakshasas was the mountainous kind, and they had, in addition, impenetrable skin and tough, bull-like heads from which protruded two tusks from thick lower jaws. Although not fast, nothing short of an earthquake or lightning strike would incapacitate them for any significant length of time. With a little warning, the team could have brought the stun batons that the Protectorate had supplied after Carolyn’s dealings with them.

The Rakshasas was only doing his job, carrying out orders that had been assigned to him. Note had been raised to think of the demons as merely large lumps of unthinking rubble that would persist in their actions until death. In a way, he thought it noble to have such unswerving loyalty. When the Rakshasas’s guards killed, there was nothing personal behind the act. Seemingly, their race suffered no emotion that could complicate their lives.

He could not be sure, and the Rakshasas seemed capable enough, but Note could’ve sworn that the demon missed a couple of good openings. If he hadn’t have known better, then he would be under the impression that the Rakshasas was holding back. Note could make no guess as to why that may be the case, as the demons didn’t tend to play with their opponents or show mercy. It was more comfortable to think that the demon was merely draining, same as Note.

As he wielded a simple dagger, Note cursed its unsuitability for the task. He dodged another low swipe of the Rakshasas’s sword, but his attention was divided as he kept his eyes searching for Mel reappearing from her fall. He could not entertain the fact that she may be hurt to such a degree that she could not return. Note harboured no illusions about his abilities; he knew that it would take the pair of them to take the demon down. The slate gaze of the Rakshasas never left Note’s face as he bore down on him, its tusked mouth set in purpose. Come on Mel.

Bailing your arse out again, snake boy. God. No. Note would sooner take his chances alone with the Rakshasas than have Ethan lend his help. The arrogant leader had backtracked from the Mow traders to join Note and Mel. Any relief that Note might have felt at his sight was naturally crushed by the mage’s smirking comment.

Always appreciated, Note answered through his clenched jaw. Their chances with the Rakshasas had improved, but his heart sank with the realisation that if Ethan was here then Morgan would be on her own with the Mow, too far from easy reach.

The younger mage could hardly be seen in the distance; she was a tiny dark blur of a shape, having followed the Mow with no fewer than three children in their custody.

Note cast a frustrated look towards Ethan, an arsenal of spells at his fingertips, but none that could penetrate the hide or tusked skull of the Rakshasas. They had to incapacitate the demon and get to Morgan; if they extended beyond reach of the gateway limits then it would make their return considerably more difficult.

The Rakshasas’s pursuit of Note and Mel had been unhurriedly tenacious, but there was nothing they could do about tackling the little band of Mow traders, disappearing slowly into the horizon, until the demon was dispatched.

Ethan, now distracting the Rakshasas with an ineffective thrust of his blade – the mage was at least equipped with a sword – caused the demon to turn, and Note felt a sudden rush of power. Mel! Her torso was now visible over the sand dune, her arms stretched towards him. He hesitated. He heard Sadi’s toxic whispers.

Damn your pride. Take it, you fool.

Restrain it! Now! barked Ethan. The mage backed off enough to sheath his blade and prepare a cast.

Note’s resistance had melted under the rush of power that Mel had sent to him. As he jumped to land on the Rakshasas, his change flooded painfully – not helped by the clothing that split across his frame. Note’s face stretched to its triangular form and his legs thickened. His torso extending to full potential, a thick strong tail balanced his new form. Note heard the Rakshasas’s sword swipe against Ethan’s a final time before the cold metal grazed across Note’s side to land behind him. Note stretched his frame around the demon’s body and legs, squeezing the unyielding flesh for all he was worth.

Pain seized again as the Rakshasas tried to remove him. Note’s face, directly over the Rakshasas’s heart, was vulnerable, and he braced himself as a large, toughened hand wedged itself under his chin in an attempt to press his head away from the armoured torso. For the first time Note experienced one of the benefits afforded the Rakshasas in hand-to-hand combat by having backward-facing hands.

"Privare aeris," Ethan called, and Note felt the air stir above him.

The demon’s forward movements slowed as he stumbled. The armoured chest no longer followed a pattern of breathing against him. Note allowed only a modicum of relief to enter as his yellow gaze focused on the wavering bubble that encircled the demon’s head above him. The Rakshasas abandoned all effort of removing Note. Stumbling forward, his hands tore at the air-depriving bubble that Ethan had fashioned. Note’s flesh stretched grotesquely during the frantic struggle for air, before the pair went down with dizzying slow motion.

This was going to hurt. Down. Down. Down.

Rolling backwards, with the sides of the quarry finding new and sensitive areas to pummel against, Note managed to keep hold as the Rakshasas thrashed and rolled, sliding to a halt at the foot of the very sand dune to which Mel had fallen victim.

That’ll do fine! Ethan shouted down to him, and Note carefully unwrapped from the Rakshasas, sliding his Kistatus form from under the demon. If it hadn’t been for the sandy terrain, he doubted he would have had the strength. With the Rakshasas out of commission meantime, Note took no chances and recovered the demon’s weapon that had landed blade up at a wicked angle nearby. It was heavy – certainly too heavy for his human form, but the Kistatus were a strong race, and Note carried it easily.

Mel stood at Ethan’s side, exhaustion causing her frame to droop. Her dark hair had frizzed out, making her look very much like the Hollywood portrayal of a witch. Ethan gave a two-fingered salute to complement his smug expression and then sped in the direction of Morgan with the Mow.

Note, in his reptilian form, easily scrambled up the sand in order to join Mel, and his tail erased the evidence of his passing. The aches of his body faded as the sun bathed him in transit. Mel was still breathing heavily from the ordeal and the added strain of lending Note her strength.

Their training had paid off, and Note recalled his reluctance during practice trials. There was just something horribly intimate about sharing power. The act could leave one vulnerable to less welcome side effects, such as being aware of each other’s thought processes. It wasn’t a problem for the likes of Sean or Ethan, who could shield their thoughts without effort, but Morgan and Mel either didn’t have such ability, or they trusted him enough to share.

The process bothered him for other reasons, too. He didn’t like them to share their power when he had nothing to return – although, in this case, the use of his body to restrain the Rakshasas had made the process more of a mutual trade between the two. Note’s train of thought caused him to shake his head. Carolyn was the only one who he craved would use him in any way that could be regarded as intimate.

In taking Mel’s power, Note felt that he had sacrificed something indefinable, and he didn’t want to ponder for long on how it had felt in the heat of the moment. Apparently, in the safety of Protectorate complexes, it was easy to stand on principle, but out in the field, he had leapt at Mel’s offer. The sliver of doubt he had acknowledged burned away under Sadi’s influence – not that the parasite’s assistance had been terribly forthcoming these past few months.

Note indicated the still form of the Rakshasas below. Isss he … ? he hissed, unable to do anything about the sibilant hiss he emitted in this form. Hearing himself he felt glad that at least Carolyn wasn’t witness to it. Carolyn. His insides twisted at the thought of her again. What would she say about my involvement in all this? It had been so long ago that Sadi had whispered her assurances about his mate – that he still saw Carolyn as – and a year since Sadi had bound to him in the promise of their return to her.

Dead? No. Mel’s amber gaze focused strangely on him, as though worried.

It took Note a moment to remember that he had begun to ask Mel a question. He centred as she continued. Ethan said to wait; he wants us to hold on to make sure that he doesn’t get up. I can reinstate the air-deprivation spell if I need to.

Becoming aware that only shreds of his clothing were clinging to him, Note cursed the fact that Mel’s news meant that he would not be able to return to human form anytime soon. The remnants of his trousers were still holding the pocket device that he needed for the gateways, but it seemed to be little compensation for how awkward it was to remain in this form with the humans.

Mel had no such cares apparently; she caught his large form in an embrace that would have choked a smaller being. Note didn’t flinch against her assault, but he returned it in a looser way, the triple projections on his upper limbs curling comfortably around her. The hug must have been weird for Mel, but her weirdness-tolerance level had always been remarkably high. Her life had been different from the others prior to becoming an enforcer. She had dealt with demons on a variety of levels while growing up under the direction of her grandfather.

With regards to Note, her generosity knew no bounds. She had willingly given and exhausted her resources making sure that they had disabled the Rakshasas. He chose to ignore how her feelings for him had filtered into and become inseparable from her shared magic like marshmallow swirls in his favourite ice cream. She was wasting her time with hopes for anything beyond friendship, but she could not seem to help herself where the Kistatus was concerned – and in the heat of the action, he thought for a moment that her thoughts had been more welcome than he could ever let her know.

Note had never and would never, however, allow Mel to think that there was more between them than friendship. Leading her on was of no interest to him. What he often felt was gratitude, or possibly sometimes something more, but he knew that it was nothing like what he had felt with Carolyn.

Mel slowly withdrew and turned her amber eyes up to meet his. He returned her smile, which wasn’t easy in his Kistatus form. All was good between them. Now he would join the others and deal with the Mow.

~***~

Ethan flew swiftly through the air between them in only a few seconds. He felt that he could have done with an hour or two of sheer unrestricted freedom, however pathetic he thought the seagull form to be in comparison with other mages’ transformations. As ever, it was with reluctance that he forced the change to return to human. Feeling every ounce of his body mass and every layer of clothing return, he dropped onto two feet, landing by Morgan’s side.

His self-assured smirk quickly shifted when he saw that she had been injured. The red-haired mage clearly hadn’t listened when he had cautioned her to wait for him. Damn it, Mel was usually the impetuous one. Morgan must have had no other choice than to act without me. His annoyance quickly fled to be replaced by a surge of guilt. He knew that she must have acted out of necessity when Ethan had decided to split his talents between the components of the team.

It was with a small measure of comfort that he caught her insolent expression. Good. Her injury could not be too bad. He offered her a scowl in return as only Ethan could perfect.

Morgan wiped Mow slime from the dagger blade against the sole of her shoe. It was an oddly girlie gesture given that she had just relieved a Mow from his internal stinger, the corpse still at her feet. The remains, being bubbling jelly flesh, bearing the mark of the fresh slice, were being reclaimed by the sandy realm. Morgan wiped the dagger once again, she clearly wanted to keep on Sam’s good side by keeping mess to a minimum for the next laundry run.

Three children huddled behind the remaining Mow’s opaque bulk. The demon was tall for a Mow, being about five feet and five inches of wide gelatinous mass. The four shifting blobs that were his eyes somehow conveyed that the creature would rather be anywhere than at his present location. Ethan could not blame him, as he knew that going up against Protectorate forces didn’t usually end well for the demons involved.

Morgan looked to Ethan expectantly, and he was quick to quash the rising pride in her that filled his chest. What part of, ‘Don’t engage,’ did you miss? he grumbled.

A ghost of a smile surfaced on her pale face. You think I had an option?

There are always options. Ethan’s eyes roamed over the Mow with the children, and then they shot back to Morgan. He shrugged and rolled his shoulders, ready for a change of tone. I don’t like it when you start without me, he said with reproach, but his eyes glinted wickedly.

I never get the chance usually. Morgan pouted and flicked her bright red hair away from her face. Your macho ways overwhelm me to submission. Ethan’s negativity fled. Man, but it was good getting into the easy banter. Morgan had been different since they had lost the destroyer last year. Hell. They had only had Carolyn for a few short weeks, but because of what she was, they all felt the weight of her loss crushing the core from the team. Were they ready to move on properly with their destroyer and Mario lost to the Lilim? Morgan had been fond of the latter, brat that he was.

Morgan rolled her eyes and turned her face pointedly up to the sun. She was right. Time was wasting, and Ethan was way too easy to distract. He turned to the Mow, thinking that a satisfying conclusion to the job was now in their sights. Morgan adopted a casually ready stance by Ethan’s side, weighing the weapon in her hand.

The remaining Mow’s eyes swivelled to Note, fast approaching over the dunes towards them. Black orbs suddenly stilled. K, Kistatus, spluttered the Mow.

Ethan saw that the demon was careful to ensure that his tentacles didn’t raise high enough to threaten the enforcers. He had always thought it unfortunate that the site of the Mow’s main weapon resided on its underside with his mouthparts.

The Mow’s gaze returned to Morgan and Ethan. I’ll not fight you. I didn’t want to come here in the first place. His gurgling speech surprisingly clear for his species, he continued, I’m not going to stop you. Ethan drew his brows together in disbelief. The Mow were renowned for their loyalty to Mow Chief, and capitulation, even though they were outnumbered, was unexpected.

Morgan took a step forward on the sand, her face darkening in anger. Suddenly the fiery colour of her hair properly reflected her demeanour. You think you can trick us after trading in human children? Ethan was in agreement. How could they listen to the ramblings of a demon clearly trying to keep from the same fate as his cohort?

The Mow’s eyes turned down as he slid aside to reveal the children. They’re not human, he argued. You can see for yourself. Ethan started in surprise, seeing that the Mow was right. Of one male and two female figures, the male looked defiant with bright eyes shining in his fine-featured face. Were the females his sisters? They turned their identical reptilian eyes towards their rescuers. They looked like pre-pubescent humans, the females seemingly less bold than the male, but they were definitely demons. Ethan watched as their faces turned back to one another as though in silent communication.

Damn it all to hell. The fact that they were demons was enough to set Ethan’s teeth on edge, but the golden bright eyes that blazed in their young faces … There could be no doubt what race they belonged to.

Kistatus. Just like Note.

Note joined them, whispering something under his breath. Did he know these children? Ethan caught the snake-demon’s eye. The Burtarro tripletss.

It was a name, but Note wasn’t giving any more away. Clearly, the children were of some magical value, although Ethan could not discern the particular type. There was no true aura of magic or signature defining any of the three. Ethan’s brow furrowed in thought before directing his next question to the Mow. They still need to be sent home. Unless you want to tell me that they’re yours?

The Mow scoffed indignantly. Of course they aren’t, but they’re not yours either.

Morgan sent Ethan a meaningful look. Her ire had vanished, and she looked tired – and more than a little ticked off. She wasn’t sure about the situation. Well, hell. Neither am I. He wondered if they had acted unlawfully by interfering with inter-realm trade that had nothing to do with humans. He dismissed the thought. Protector forces had sent them, and there were no signs of a simultaneous deal going down. There had been no choice but to become involved.

Although Note had affected Ethan’s opinions of the Kistatus, the mage wasn’t about to see the young ones sent into Mow territory to serve another race.

Ethan moved a hand over his face, scrubbing, as though he could erase the picture before him. Did the Protectorate think that they weren’t stretched enough that they could deal with inter-realm issues as well? He was going to have to be creative in implementing the Protectorate rules, not to mention how he was going to have to apply flexibility with decisions over what exactly came under their jurisdiction. What his team were about to do could be considered unlawful in an effort to counter deeds previously uncovered by their laws.

In his fully Kistatus form, Note began, Thiss sshouldn’t be. His eyes flickered over the children, expression unreadable on his rigid triangular face. The children began to whisper softly between themselves. One of the girls cast admiring glances at Note before her brother noticed and pulled her roughly behind him.

Explain, said Ethan. Great, he’s the Kistatus version of Harry Styles – irresistible. The sooner that the snake harnesses his magic to keep clothing intact for his change the better it would be for all concerned.

Kistatuss, don’t do thiss, Note continued with his void expression. His broad webbed feet shifted in the sand. They don’t trade between the realmss, and, if they did, they would never usse children ass currenssy.

I was against this from the start; I am not loyal to Mow Chief, the Mow said abruptly. Take me with you; I can be of help to the cause.

Seriously? Morgan seemed taken aback; her mouth gaped in shock.

Please listen to me, the Mow continued. "I’ve never been like the other drones. I don’t belong here. Do you think that this is what I want from life?" Ethan wasn’t sure if the demon was referring to his job or the desert land.

It seems to work for the majority of your people, Mow, so forgive me if I’m not feeling the sincerity here.

In case you haven’t noticed, Enforcer, things have been changing in the realms.

You got that right. Ethan’s gaze settled over the children, children quite alien to Sedert. What did it mean? Rakshasas working with Mow had been enough of a shock already. With their destroyer out of commission, had the balance been altered so radically that this was the result?

The Mow continued quietly and intently from his truncated mouth. I’ve been dissenting for months. There’s no more I can do here. I can hardly believe I’m asking you, but I know it’s right. I don’t belong here and neither does Rak. The Mow shifted uncomfortably on the sand, his eyes straying back to where they had incapacitated the Rakshasas. Rak came to us months ago for punishment. You didn’t kill him, did you? Did Ethan hear concern in the lisping, wet tones of the Mow?

Rak? Morgan said slowly, following the Mow’s direction. The Rakshasas?

Nice as it was to know that Morgan shared his struggle with developments, it caused Ethan to pause. Was this what the Protectorate wanted – inter-realm collaboration in an effort to break down the barriers, gather intelligence, and work for the greater good of the realms? Out of his depth already, Ethan didn’t want to consider further than what was in front of him already.

That’s another thing, said Ethan, how did the Rakshasas come to be here? The Mow had said something about punishment. What greater punishment is there than to be exiled from one’s realm? He looked uncomfortably for a moment towards Note.

What do you think? the Mow answered, his bulky form managing to convey annoyance surprisingly well. He was traded.

Ethan snapped back into focus. With that attitude you’ll be keeping your friend company very shortly.

The Mow blanched, as far as it is possible for the pale demon to do. I apologise, he muttered. His upper mass shifted in what Ethan thought to be consternation. Rak as a friend? he continued. "No. We share some interests, some that we share with you." The Mow shifted his concentration to Ethan in earnest. "That’s all."

His denial was perhaps too strong.

Rak rallied men against Roland, and this was his punishment. They don’t like waste, those ones. Mow’s tone suggested disgust with what the High mage had done to the Rakshasas.

I expect not, but the fact remains that your friend would have taken out my men without hesitation, challenged Ethan.

The compulsion that Roland used for this will now be spent, explained the Mow. He should be himself again. He sounded almost reasonable, and Ethan had to give him points for refraining to use his acid spit. The wheels were turning in Ethan’s head. Clearly this demon, along with a number of Rakshasas, was unhappy in his servitude. Protectorate rules were clear about asylum seekers, but he hadn’t personally dealt with any other than Note. But come on … these weren’t helpless, persecuted victims, and they didn’t come with the benefits of Anchoring to a destroyer. Ethan was acutely aware, however, that if what Mow had said about the Rakshasas was true then Rak could fit the criteria. Fine, forget about me, continued Mow in that same reasonable tone. I’ll return empty-handed to Mow Chief, but Rak should go with you. He doesn’t deserve to labour in the pits for this failure.

The pits of Sedert were legendary; beneath the sandy surface lay deposits of gold stone and marble. Although the Mow were technologically advanced, their physical vulnerabilities meant that they used contractors and beasts of burden for their mining tasks. Ethan imagined that such an individual as Rak would be as valuable as two or three contractors or six or seven of the beasts, and it would cost a whole lot less for the Mow to keep.

Note adjusted his stance slightly, and Ethan saw that the demon had bled, the grey-blue fluid reflecting darkly on a strip of matt black clothing that remained on his side. Presumably caught by the Rakshasas’s blade, he was favouring his left. The reason why he had not changed back? Fine. The Kistatus would heal more quickly in his native form, and they had been spared the spectacle of him losing the scraps of clothing that barely covered the essentials.

Ethan needed to reach a decision before Mow reinforcements arrived. His team had to tend to their injuries, but there was nothing that could not wait.

Mow gestured towards Note with a tentacle. You accepted the Kistatus. Ethan grimaced. There had been no choice, as their destroyer had Anchored to the demon, effectively saving and trapping the girl simultaneously. Mow proved that he indeed had some insight into the mechanisms within the realms. The fate of your Kistatus, Notechis? he began. Not my anything, thought Ethan darkly. Note stiffened at the mention of his proper name, but he made no other indication of any bother. It has been discussed among the Outlanders of Skean, and I’m sure they will be happy to know that their hero has not abandoned their cause.

Was the demon being sarcastic now? The fact of Note’s affiliation had reached Ethan’s ears long ago, but with everything that had happened since, it had lost importance. Note had dedicated his efforts to Protectorate business and to finding their destroyer. Did his people feel abandoned? Or did they imagine that he was helping their cause in a different capacity?

Before Carolyn, Note had garnered a name for himself as sympathetic to the Protectorate, and he had risked much to further the ideal of democracy. At the time, Ethan hadn’t been aware of Note’s parentage. As son of the Kistatus High mage, he had been an unlikely candidate to protest the authoritarian regime, but nevertheless, he had been beautifully placed to accomplish certain goals.

Ethan wished now for the human form that the demon