Chapter Text
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this new pact mark. The way it stings is unlike any of the others when I received them - a kind of jolt that digs right down to the bone.
The others had recited incantations as they made their pacts, but I didn’t hear Lucifer say anything until the mark had already appeared on my skin. The prickle is erratic and electric - jumping about like a panicked spark. I look up, but before I can say anything, the mist rushes back in.
I find myself reaching forward - whether seeking reassurance or just answers, I don’t know - but the mist renders everything directionless, and it’s practically impossible to navigate. It feels like that strange, liminal place in the Dreamscape; as if that fog where I met Belphegor has seeped into real life. At least, I think that’s what happened - I don’t think I’ve fallen asleep again.
“IK—?” A pair of hands land on my shoulders. “Hey— don’t look down.”
I can’t see Beel, but that’s definitely his voice. “What’s…?”
“We’re high up,” I hear him say - when I blink, for a moment, I see a stretch of blue sky, and his face peering down at me as clear as day. “P–please be careful.”
He pulls back a little, but not by much - his hands remain outstretched, but hesitant, as if afraid of actually touching me again. “What’s going on?”
“We ended up somewhere high before,” He mumbles, still hovering anxiously. “I don’t want…”
“IK!”
When Asmo’s hand lands on my arm, the fog sharpens briefly again - there’s green grass beneath our feet. There’s a breeze beginning to blow. Some kind of awful feeling is building up inside me.
We’re somewhere, and something is here with us, I’m sure of it. Sonno’s eyes seem to be everywhere. He’s— he’s doing this on purpose - with every brother that comes close, each one I have to confront, I have to remember that they didn’t remember, I have to—
Forcing me to relive dying would be too simple. It’s not like Sonno needs to mess with my head for it to happen, so of course he’d be planning something crueller.
Something changed before, twice over - first when the others broke through the barrier, second when I felt the sting of the new pact. Both times, it broke the mist, it dispelled the illusion; it’d be stupid to think Sonno didn’t notice, so no wonder he’s changed tactics.
He knows what I’m afraid of, so he started with the most obvious one; he tried the loudest nightmare first. And then he realised it wasn’t working, because there were things I was more scared of right there in the room with us - why focus on the imaginary monsters when there are real ones growling beneath the bed?
Why did the others have to show up when they did? Now I don’t even know if the ones I’m seeing are real - if they're the same brothers who suddenly, inexplicably, broke through the barrier to me, or if this is another of Sonno’s tricks.
I turn away - but Asmo’s grip only tightens around my arm. And it feels real enough, but— “Get off me!”
“ Please, darling,” He pleads - and when I falter briefly, he pulls me abruptly back towards him. “Come here, let me—”
But I just twist away from him again, and this time he lets go. “Stop it!”
“IK, we— ” Beel starts, “—we know what happened, we just—”
“You just forgot , I— ” I don’t know if they’re real - and, even if they are, I don’t know if anything I say will even matter. “I— I know, alright?! I don’t care anymore, just— stop it, don’t come closer!”
Something zaps through me, like a spark of lightning - both Asmo and Beel freeze on the spot. Asmo looks down in panic, but his feet seem glued to the ground; Beel only looks defeated. His eyes drop briefly down, then back to me as I clutch my left arm, as if the pressure will make the tingling stop.
“It’s just us,” He says softly, sorrowfully. “It’s…”
He can’t seem to finish his sentence. He pauses briefly, closing his eyes and shaking his head as if the fog is getting to him, and then starts again, “I— I know it’s scary, but… we’re here.”
"Are you?” I shoot back. Their faces are beginning to blur again - I can’t make them out.
This is the first time I’ve actually had to use their pact marks - to force them to stop approaching them. And it seemed to have worked, but what if it was just a fluke? If I command them again now, the pact should come into effect if they’re who they seem to be. I need to be sure.
“Tell me the truth,” I order as firmly as I can, taking another step backwards when it looks as if they might try to reach out again - but they stay stuck to the spot. “What do you want?”
“We’re— we’re just trying to help,” Beel mutters feebly. “We just want to… to protect you.”
“We weren’t focusing on the right things.” Asmo’s struggling comes to a halt. Instead, he just holds out his hands, and looks at me beseechingly. “I— I know we don’t deserve it, but… let us do it right this time. We’re still your friends.”
I stare at them. I… don’t know if I believe them. I told them to tell me the truth, but - now that I think about it, it’s not like that’d actually be a good way to tell if they were real.
Are you telling me the truth, or are you just telling me what I want to hear? It’s not like Sonno would be incapable of the latter. If he knows my fears, surely he knows that, too. Besides, after all this time, for this to happen now… it seems too good to be true. It doesn’t sound real.
But I… I do want it to be. I feel myself falter a little. The force that’s been keeping Asmo and Beel stuck in place seems to relent a little - they both shift, and make as if to approach. Beel steps forward - as his foot strikes the ground, a ripple carries through the fog, and our surroundings change shape.
The sky is still there, and so is the grass, but it’s been rearranged. We’re standing by a road. I blink, bewildered. …what?
I’ve been here before. This is my street, that’s my house across the road. And I saw it in a dream, I sat next to someone on the curb—
Levi turns around just as he sharpens into high enough definition to actually make out, stumbling as if pushed forward by something. For a second he just teeters there in apparent shock, then abruptly finds his footing - only to start toppling again as he seems to recognise me, and this time he only just manages to catch himself on a knee.
But he doesn’t bother getting up - just stares up at me in watery-eyed disbelief - “That’s— that’s really you, right?!”
I could ask him the same thing. I glance frantically around myself, wondering whether I’ve just been pulled into a different illusion - but Beel and Asmo are still there. Standing there, two foreign things against this backdrop where they’re not supposed to be. They don’t look as if they can move anymore… the pact still seems to be in effect. Would that have happened if they weren’t real?
“H-hey—” Levi starts getting up again - he’s trembling all over. “—are you okay?”
I blink at him. He seems to panic. “B-because it does matter, you know, you’re my— my— f—”
He splutters for a moment, visibly struggling to find the words - or else to get the words out. After a split second, he shakes his head, and abruptly falls forward into some kind of kowtow.
“Ah—” I skitter backwards. “Levi—”
“I’m sorry!” He wails miserably, and now I’m beginning to feel almost impressively awkward in the most ordinary way possible. “I’m— I’m a rotten fr— fr— please don’t hate me!”
“Levi—” I try again, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. If anything, the sound of my voice only seems to make him more upset. “Can you— please don’t—”
“Get a hold of yourself ,” Asmo says sharply, and that, at least, seems to get through to him. “We’re all idiots, just calm down.”
Levi descends into a hiccuping silence. A moment or so later, he lifts his head and stares, bewildered, at Beel and Asmo. “...you guys are here, too?”
“We were all there,” says Beel with a frown. “When the king… did something. So we must all be here, too.”
Levi blinks, rubbing at his eyes, then looks around himself. The street seems to ripple; our surroundings grow fainter with each moment. “Then where’s— Mammon?”
I don’t bother turning to look in the same direction as him. I’m already sick of this. I can guess what Sonno’s tactic is going to be here - just throwing the others at me, one by one, messing me up in the head and making everything seem unknowable until it all builds up and explodes.
But something about this just now - for a second, I had some kind of clarity. I think it was the pure ordinariness of having to stand there and stew in second-hand embarrassment for a moment, but—
I turn around just in time to look Mammon in the eye. He freezes.
I have to test them, somehow. If Sonno wants to use my fears against me, then I’ll do it first. If I voice the nightmares, give them form, give him an opportunity to completely shatter me all over again - he’ll have to use it. And I’ll know whether any of this is real.
“Tell me what happened,” I say, careful to keep my voice low - worded like an order, but determined not to let it sound like one. Sure enough, I don’t feel anything from any of the pact marks. “Tell me what you remember. And then tell me why you forgot.”
For a split second, Mammon only stares. “...h-huh?”
“Tell me why you forgot,” I repeat, only just barely keeping my voice down this time. “I died. Why did you forget that?”
“W…” His voice comes out like a low whimper. “You…”
“Go on. It’s an open question.” I look around at the others. “Do you want me to tell you what it felt like? Do— do you want to know what I remember?”
I raise a trembling hand, and point it to my throat, then to my head. “He got me here first. Then here. He wouldn’t stop. He would’ve split my head open if I didn’t try to call for help. And then he ripped my hand off so that I wouldn’t be able to.
“And it— it hurt a lot. I thought— I thought I might be able to get away, but— he was too fast. And I… broke. And then I couldn’t feel anything anymore.”
Stricken silence. I can’t keep the act up much longer. I don’t why I thought I could say any of this without breaking down; I should’ve known it was stupid idea as soon as I started speaking.
I don’t think this is the test I thought it’d be - not as much as it is a bid for revenge, some kind of feeble attempt to make them feel anything close to what I remember.
What’s the point, though? I just… want my friends back. But I can’t look at them without remembering what they didn’t, and it’s making everything so complicated. I can’t seem to figure out what I want to do - to hold a grudge, or to ask tearfully if everything will be okay now.
“...if I got to them in time,” I start again, trying fruitlessly to steady my voice, “If I called— you’d have come, right?”
Mammon stares. And then he just kind of… caves in.
He lurches forward, and hugs me so tightly that, briefly, it feels like he’s the only solid thing here. For a moment I just freeze, but— oh.
It felt like this when I saw him for the first time after dying, too.
“...what…” I almost want to apologise for crying. It feels like I’m finally letting go of something that’s been building up for a long time now, but that that I am - I just feel a little ridiculous. “...what was I supposed to do? How am I supposed to…”
I can’t finish. Mammon’s hold tightens.
“...listen, I… I don’t have any excuses, I just…” His voice cracks. “...I’m gonna be here. I… I know I should’ve been there, but— from now on, I— I’ll protect ya, alright? Promise.”
He pulls back, taking a deep breath, and hesitates briefly - then holds out a hand, lifting his little finger. I stare uncertainly down at it.
Absently, I reach up and rub at the tears still trickling down my face. “...you mean it, right?”
“I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything ,” He says fervently, “And I-I dunno if you still—”
I link my little finger with his, and he falls silent. I can’t say I believe him, but I just hope…
Something loosens up. There’s a brief scuffle as Asmo loses his footing - the force holding him and Beel in place has disappeared.
There’s quiet for a while. I don’t feel respite so much as I just feel defeated. They’re real, I’m sure of that now, but— it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels more like just… giving up on everything that happened to me.
I should be more bitter, I should be sharp and blazing - axing down the bridge without a thought as to what’s on the other side. Instead, I’ve just caved as soon as someone took a step across it. But it
“What do we do now?” Levi asks finally, voice tiny. “Where’s— where’s Lucifer? And…”
“He’s going to send one of them next,” I mutter blankly. “He’s probably angry none of this has worked yet. If I had to guess…”
It’s not going to be Lucifer. I know that much. The last thing I’d seen before we were caught here was him looking back at me. The look on his face - it had been something reassuring, something sorrowful, a mix of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘ is it okay?’ that made him look the softest I’ve ever seen him.
The fog is beginning to rush in again. When it did that the first time, I’d seen Lucifer’s eyes fade into the mist, and they’d looked more amber than red. I can’t be afraid of him.
Sonno’s clever plan hasn’t worked at all. I look down and find familiar boards beneath my feet. He seems to have gone back to square one.
The others seem to have disappeared. I look up. I think I’d have been more unnerved by the open door if I hadn’t sat in front of it not that long ago.
A phantom claw draws across my throat. I imagine I taste blood for a moment as my surroundings blur around me - there’s a dull burn, a horrible crack, something writhing beneath my skin. It might have hurt if I didn’t still remember what it had really felt like.
“Stop it!” I hear someone scream. “I know it’s not real, it’s not— Lilith’s— STOP IT!”
The shadow is moving like an amateurishly-puppeted marionette, tail lashing and twisting helplessly, as if in the very last throes of its own death. It reaches out with the same hands that struck and struck and wouldn’t stop striking - batting at things that aren’t there, careening as it tries to evade a nightmare I can’t see and don’t understand. Belphegor is terrified - I can hear it in the way he screams.
I stumble slightly. The illusion seems to get further away, as if my senses are detaching; my thoughts themselves feel listless suddenly, and the fog just makes everything disorienting. As I blink, I see the shadow tense and jerk - as if someone else has suddenly taken control of the strings. And then— Belphegor’s figure breaks through the mist.
His arms are already extended, face twisted, mouth still open - maybe in another scream, or maybe in a call for help. I remember, I remember, this has all happened before - there’s anger blossoming on his face, blood blossoming across the floorboard - and I’m afraid once more, of dying and waking up to everything all over again—
He looks me dead in the eyes, and his face contorts. For just another second, he teeters towards me - but suddenly he jolts backwards, hands gripping his head. And I imagine he screams again, but I can’t tell; at that moment the mist shatters, and everything becomes the same, buzzing static.
I can’t see myself, let alone feel myself - but I feel something , like a vague, persistent toothache. I try to reach for something, but there’s no direction to reach in. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what’s happened - but I remember what did happen. They were all here, and now they’re gone, and…
“Please,” I sob to no one. “Come back.”
I’m scared.
And - for what feels like a brief eternity - there is no answer.
But then there’s a rumble like thunder, and the static seems to freeze. Its strange borders seem to grow jagged and sharp, but they’re shaking, shuddering, rattling as if resisting some great force. My vision clears, and I see with the most clarity I’ve had since Sonno first began his show - I look down at my hands, lit by the glow of the brothers’ pact marks.
They almost seem to twinkle in reassurance. And the newest, sixth of the six, Lucifer’s - the blue light intensifies, so much so that I can’t tell if the sting comes from the brightness or the mark itself - and then the static is blown away so entirely that, for a split second, I can see the others perfectly clearly when they break through to me again.
Lucifer’s wings close around me at the same moment as Mammon reaches out to me - reflexively, I outstretch my own hands, and shut my eyes tight. There’s a pattering like falling hailstones; I hear a muffled yell, and a sound like clattering porcelain. It’s all so loud, but—
Just as Lucifer seems to stagger, someone calls something from afar. Everything freezes. And, a split second later—
—we’re back in the ballroom, and it’s as if nothing had happened in the first place.
The silence feels almost comedic after the cacophony of the illusion. Mammon doesn’t let go of me. Lucifer’s wings don’t relax, either - as I look up at him, I see him swiping a streak of black blood from his cheek.
…what happened?
“ What did you just say?”
My gaze snaps to the king. He’s completely ignoring those of us he’d just attacked; his gaze is fixed on Barbatos, who stares back at him with unrepentant and unrelenting eyes.
“Your name,” He says with deliberate care. “I know your true name.”
“How—” Sonno seems to lose his composure, but only for a split second. He draws back, hands settling in front of him, and simply glares. “...and how do you plan on using that against me?”
Barbatos lowers his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “That would be up to the prince.”
“You called my name for all to hear." Sonno's expression is dark - malevolent. "That was foolish.”
“Was it?” Barbatos folds his hands neatly in front of him and continues to smile back at him. “I don’t believe it was.”
“With that knowledge in mind - with that sort of power over the king—” He extends a hand and quirks a brow. “Why not keep it to yourself? In fact— it’d give you leverage over your own master.”
Barbatos remains steady. “I wouldn’t want it. The thing you forget is that your son does not rule by fear, Your Majesty - that, you will find, creates far more allies.”
“Allies?” Sonno chuckles a little. “You seem to be the only one by his side now.”
“That is still one more than you have beside you.”
Silence.
Diavolo steps forward. He takes a deep breath. “I… think you should leave.”
“Oh?”
“We… can take things from here.” His gaze flickers to me, and he looks sorrowful. Then he closes his eyes. takes a deep breath, and turns back to his father. “I’ve made several mistakes. But I don’t need you to fix them for me.”
“And what makes you think you’re capable of that?” Sonno makes a gesture in my direction, barely even a little flick of his wrist. “This little one - the crux of your errors - couldn’t even bear the weight of what you inflicted on her alone. Your servant’s timely intervention was the only thing that has spared that ragtag little family of victims.”
“I don’t deny that I’ve been foolish. I don’t deny that I’ve been mostly helpless, either.” Diavolo’s gaze drops for a moment, but then he lifts his head again, looking more resolute this time. For the first time, he speaks as if he’s in charge. “But it isn’t up to you to fix that anymore. I’ve been an acting ruler for long enough to be capable of that on my own.”
“And why do you think you deserve the opportunity?”
“I… don’t.” He doesn’t bother hiding the shame that crosses his face. “No one here owes me forgiveness. But I want to make things right.”
“I swore loyalty to your son a long time ago,” says Lucifer suddenly, and the king’s eyes - seemingly despite himself - turn to him. “Until now, I have felt no need to question it.”
He looks briefly at Diavolo. “...perhaps he is the lesser of two evils for the moment. But Diavolo has proven to be capable of being a good ruler. I have reason to hope that he will step back up to the title now - but all you have done is harm one of our own. You have fixed nothing. And I do not believe that you will fix anything if you are allowed to remain.”
Diavolo looks infinitely touched, but there’s another part of his expression that seems melancholy. He seems to realise it himself, but I don’t think Lucifer’s words are coming from a place of high esteem or admiration right now. Only of necessity.
Diavolo turns back to his father. He takes another deep breath.
“Rather than focusing on my mistakes, you should remember the failures of your own reign,” He says quietly. “I have to account and repent for my own shortcomings, but I don’t need you for that.”
Sonno is silent for a moment. There’s an infinitely dangerous look on his face - but then there’s a shift, and something emerges that almost looks like… pride.
“I see you’ve finally grown a backbone.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “...very well, then. I won’t haunt your mirrors any longer.”
Diavolo opens his mouth to say something, looking disbelieving - but, before he can, Sonno disappears. There’s a long pause as we hold our breaths - surely it can’t be that easy - and then a loud bang.
I jump, but it’s just the door opening. Solomon nearly falls in, but catches himself just in time; Mephisto follows much more slowly behind him.
He stops and looks briefly at the mirror. Then he turns to Barbatos. “Nice one.”
“I couldn’t have done it without assistance from you both,” Barbatos says, inclining his head. “Thank you for that.”
“It wasn’t for you,” Solomon snaps. “What’s happened? Is he gone?”
“He… seems to be.” Diavolo looks nervous. “But… we still have to be careful. He didn’t say he was going back to sleep, so if he still wants to appear… he said he wouldn’t use the castle’s mirrors, but…”
“He might try to use your eyes again,” Barbatos agrees.
“Perhaps we should blindfold you, then,” Lucifer says - Diavolo flinches at the coldness in his voice. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.”
“...I… I know.” He dips his head. “But - first—”
“Hold on,” interrupts Satan - still knelt on the floor, clearly dishevelled. “I want to know what just happened. Barbatos— how the hell did you know the king’s name?”
“We knew it, at some point.” Barbatos frowns a little. “Sonno buried the memory when he took the throne. But…”
“I still have a pact with him,” Solomon says, though the look on his face says that he doesn’t find it a very palatable thing. “I used it to command him to recall the name. It wouldn’t have worked, but…”
“Chronodae share a special connection,” Mephisto finishes with a flat nod. “I helped. But that’s not important…”
He trails off. He’s giving me a slightly incredulous look - I realise after a moment that it’s probably because of the brothers still standing so closely around me.
I pause for a moment, and glance up at them, skimming over but not quite seeing their faces. After a moment, I silently push Lucifer’s wings away from myself, and begin moving away.
They let me go. Solomon places a hand on my shoulder for a moment as I pass him, asking a silent question. I just shrug, then carry on over to Satan, and offer him a hand.
He takes it, but seems to take it mostly upon himself to actually get back to his feet. He still looks half-distressed, but he does seem to be taking a little comfort in Sonno’s absence. He pauses to send an unreadable look over at his brothers, then looks back at me.
He holds out his arms silently. For a moment I worry about how worn out he looks, but I don’t think my weight would be enough to fell him just yet. At least, I hope not.
“...I’m tired,” I mumble finally, slumping against him. “Can we… can we go?”
“It might not be wise to do that just yet,” says Solomon a little apologetically. “We can’t prove that Sonno’s really gone back into complete sleep, or if he’s still lingering. For safety, we should give it a little longer."
“There are spare rooms in both the towers,” Diavolo says hesitantly, then stops. When no one immediately fires something hostile his way, he continues, “You— you can use those, if you like.”
“I’ll tell the club the good news,” Mephisto snorts, and turns back to the door. “So we’re done here, yeah?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before leaving. I look after him a little worriedly. I’d wanted to talk to him first, but…
“We’ll find you a room, then,” Satan says to me, squeezing my hand. “Just leave the rest to us.”
“You can ask any of the Little Ds around the castle if you need assistance,” Barbatos murmurs, but it sounds mostly like he’s talking to the air. No one acknowledges him.
Neither prince nor butler looks surprised by the lukewarm reception they’re being given, despite their almost heroic role in getting the king to take his leave. Mostly they just seem grateful that the others haven’t turned on them.
“I’ll handle Belphegor, then,” says Solomon abruptly, and for the first time I turn to look at him. He’s backed all the way to the wall and is supporting himself against it, breaths laboured.
When Diavolo opens his mouth, Solomon interrupts, “I won’t harm him. I’m just moving him. And I’d like a few words with him, personally.”
Belphegor doesn’t resist as something invisible seems to prompt him forwards. He just stumbles after it. Solomon regards him with a mix of pity and derision, then glances to me. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll come find you once we’ve cleared things up.”
I nod quietly. Solomon makes an odd motion with his hands, then sweeps out, with Belphegor shambling slowly after him. The way he moves is almost zombie-like. I’d find it unsettling, but I’m just glad that things finally seem to be under control again. It kind of feels like it shouldn’t be this simple.
Beel looks after his brother mournfully. Then he turns to look at me.
“IK—” He starts, “We—”
“Stop it.” I cut him off loudly before I’ve really thought about what to say. “Not now. I… I need time to think.”
He seems deflated, but nods. “...okay.”
I look at them for a moment longer, then offer them a little wave as Satan begins to lead me out. At the door, he pauses briefly, and says without looking back, “Mammon. I want to talk to you. Come with us.”
There’s a brief silence. Mammon seems surprised, but then nods and hurries over, almost tripping over his feet as he comes.
He follows us down the corridor, hands twisting anxiously together like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. Satan doesn’t say anything for a while - just keeps striding forwards with a grim kind of determination. Eventually, we get to one of the towers, and he checks in several rooms before finally ushering me into one.
I head straight to the bed and collapse onto it with a long sigh. Satan remains standing by the door, eyes fixed on Mammon as he shuffles in and awkwardly perches himself on the end of the bed. He keeps glancing at me, but doesn’t say anything.
“...so you remember now, do you?” Satan asks finally.
Mammon’s hands curl into fists. He grits his teeth. “It… it was comin’ on for a while.”
“I figured.” Satan folds his arms. “Why didn’t you remember in the first place?”
“I…” Mammon reaches up and rubs aggressively at his face. “...I was scared, alright? You don’t need to tell me, I know it was dumb, but I—”
“—that’s not my point,” Satan interrupts. “Would I be wrong if I said you never forgot entirely?”
“...” Mammon sighs. “I reckon that’d be givin’ me too much credit.”
“You definitely forgot in a different way to the others. That much was clear.” At that, Mammon seems a little comforted. “...what were you scared of?”
“I— I dunno, just—” He makes a weird gesture, then sighs. He already sounds a little choked-up. “When— when we found— when I realised— I…couldn’t handle it. And I just got way too messed up in the head…”
“You took your time figuring it out. But…” Satan’s face softens a little. “...guess I can’t blame you. I didn’t remember straight away, either.”
“You still remembered a hell of a lot sooner than I did.” Mammon stands up. “And— you did a good job. Of takin’ care of our kid when— when we didn’t.”
Satan inclines his head. “Well, I couldn’t have done anything else.”
They look at each other. Mammon hovers for a second, then pulls him into a rough sort of hug.
“...house hasn’t been the same without the two of ya,” He says gruffly after a moment, pulling away again. “Listen, I know everything’s a mess, but we’ll— we’ll talk, and we’ll work it out, yeah?”
“...right. Thanks.” Satan looks a little embarrassed. He clears his throat. “We’ll work it out. Somehow.”
He doesn’t look as if he quite believes his own words. He pats Mammon awkwardly on the arm, then turns back to me. “...how do you feel?”
I shrug a little sluggishly. Part of me wants to question why Satan had this conversation with Mammon in front of me - but another part of me is almost relieved to have heard it. “Tired.”
“Of course.” He glances around the room, then comes a little further in to untuck the bed’s blankets from the mattress. “I’ll let the others know not to bother you. Do you need me to stay with you?"
I think it over, then shake my head. “Just wanna sleep.”
“Alright. Let me know if that changes, alright?” He reaches over and ruffles my hair. “Or if you need anything. You know where the library is, don’t you? I’ll probably be there if you need me.”
I’m not sure I could ever express how grateful I am to him for… everything, really. “Thanks. You should… get some rest, too.”
“I’ll try.” He smiles, and stands back to leave. At the door, he pauses, and looks to Mammon. “Come on.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, just—” He glances at me again. “—give me a sec, alright?”
Satan raises an eyebrow at him. Then he nods and sidles out, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him.
Mammon doesn’t do anything for a second, seemingly steeling himself. Then he comes back over to me, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. I look at him a little cautiously.
“We…” He struggles for the right words for a moment. “...we’ve messed up, huh?”
I shrug at him. He laughs a little despite himself. “Hey, don’t give me that. We all know we did.”
He pauses. When he speaks again, he’s a lot quieter. “I’m… I’m sorry, kid. We all are. And I know it’s probably not gonna be alright any time soon, but— if you’re willin’ to give us a chance— we wanna make it alright.”
“...okay.” I fiddle with the embroidery on the blanket. “I… want it to be alright, too.”
Mammon blinks at me, then grins in palpable relief. “That’s… that’s great!”
He gets back to his feet, smile still lingering. “R-right then, I’ll, uh, let ya rest, then. If you need me— wherever, whenever— just let me know, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” I repeat. “Thanks, Mammon.”
He pauses briefly. “...least I can do. Love ya, kid.”
The door closes behind him. I stare at it for a moment, feeling something distant and confusing, then shake my head and start gathering the blankets around myself.
—
I can’t really say whether or not the sleep I get is restful. It keeps coming in bursts, and even once I’m pretty sure it’s the next day already, I still feel so weary that I just turn over and doze off again. So much has happened and so much is still happening… but I really don’t want to focus on it.
Satan pokes his head in to check on me, and Solomon comes to offer me something to eat a few times, but other than that, no one disturbs me. I hear footsteps approach the door every now and then, but they always leave after a minute or so. And that’s just how I’d like it.
Meanwhile, I only leave the room briefly to wash my face and freshen up a little. Then I return, and just sit there listlessly, forcing myself to focus on the wallpaper instead of whatever’s going on in the back of my head. At some point I’m refusing to think so determinedly that the hours just kind of melt into a disassociated blob.
I’m pretty sure I spend most of the day doing absolutely nothing. It’s the most well-rested I’ve felt in a long time.
And then, some time in the evening - there’s a knock at the door. I fully intend on ignoring it, only responding by shuffling slightly to readjust myself - but then there’s a twinge of the pact mark on my wrist, and I realise exactly who’s there.
For a moment, it just makes me want to open the door even less. But then I remember something - so I sit up, and say (miraculously steadily), “Come in.”
There’s a brief silence. I get the feeling that the person at the door wasn’t actually expecting to get an answer.
Soon enough, it opens. Lucifer enters slowly, almost creeping, as if still unsure whether or not he has permission to be here. It’s completely unlike him - but, then again, a lot of what he’s done so far has been very unlike him as well. It’s some sort of trend, it seems.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
Lucifer takes a long while to answer. He’s holding something. “...hello, IK.”
He sets the something down on the table. It’s a plate of neatly sliced apples.
For a moment, he just stands there, looking at it, then turns to me. “Do you need anything?”
I just shake my head. He takes in a long breath, only just noticeable, then asks, “Would you mind if I sat down?”
I shake my head again. And then I contemplate telling him I’ve changed my mind when he decides to sit down next to me - but I just keep my mouth shut, and stare firmly down at the bedsheets.
“...is the pact mark painful?” He asks after a moment, but doesn’t give me time to reply before continuing. “It should settle down soon. I… didn’t quite realise I’d given it to you until after everything ended. It was a spur of the moment thing. I suppose that’s why I did such a clumsy job with the ritual.”
I raise my arm, pushing the sleeve back to look at the mark a little more closely. The shape reminds me of an open folding fan - or maybe it’s mimicking the way a peacock’s tail fans out. In the middle of the middle feather, where a peacock’s plume’s eye would be, there’s a star - it’s such a deep blue that the colour itself seems to pulse. It looks like a little gem.
“Your favourite colour’s blue, isn’t it?” I mumble vaguely, bringing my arm closer to my face. “I thought it’d be red, but…”
Lucifer stiffens slightly. He doesn’t respond, and I’m mostly grateful that he doesn’t. I don’t actually remember why I know that.
There’s only one other pact mark on this wrist - Satan’s, the one that looks like a pair of horns split by two stars, one in vivid emerald green. I think back to the expression on his face when he looked at the pact mark before; even now, the way the green star glints seems scornful of the blue star it shares a space with.
This mark in particular - I don’t think I could ever forget what it looked like. As I died - for a split second, I’d thought I might have a chance, if only I could call on it. And then I’d realised I was only fooling myself, because anyone I’d call would come too late.
I wonder now if I gave up too early. What even is the point of these pacts if I’m not going to use them when it counts? I didn’t even think to activate them the way I did back in Sonno’s illusion. It’s a miracle that they somehow did, anyway.
“Perhaps I should’ve given you my pact sooner,” Lucifer says quietly, as if he’s thinking something along the same lines as me. “If I’d known— I’d have come. You have to know that.”
“Do I?”
He’s silent. I tap my fingers restlessly on the blanket , then add, feeling a sudden jab of irritation, “What do you know, anyway?”
A pause.
“...I…” He breathes in. “...I know we came too late. And I’m sorry for that.”
I look briefly up at him. I don’t feel anything.
“My own fault for not using these stupid things,” I mutter finally, looking down again and abruptly pulling my sleeve back over the pact marks. “It’s fine. You didn’t know it was happening in the first place.”
There’s a long silence. Lucifer doesn’t seem to know what to say. “...that’s not…”
He trails off, shrinking back just the littlest bit - then seems to steel himself, and starts again, this time sounding firmer, “That’s not what I meant. We took too long to remember. We were… late.”
He pauses, then adds, quietly, “...are you… angry with me for that?”
He sounds tentative - almost child-like. I glance at him, but don’t offer much other than a non-committal shrug.
I’m not… angry at him right now. I’m glad he’s here. But I think I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t angry about him not being here before.
That’s the thing, though. Does it cancel out? He’s… still my friend. I don’t hate him or the others. But I don’t really know how I feel about any of them right now.
I bring my hands up to my face and press my eyes into my palms. I’ve never really questioned how I thought about this sort of thing, but it occurs to me now that it’s not the first time I’ve had this sort of dilemma. This is why I’ve been trying to ignore it so far.
A good while ago now, I was in the human world for the first time in months. I sat on a bench with Satan, and we talked. Something about what he said… at the time, I didn’t really listen, but there has to be a reason I can still remember it so clearly. Hey. You’re allowed to be angry at him too.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew what I was thinking right now. Something similar, probably. He’d probably give me a knock on the head for being dumb, too. (Or not. He’s too nice to me to do that, even if I’d deserve it.)
It really doesn’t make sense to try to figure things out like this. Looking at it logically - like Satan probably would - I can’t just cancel things out. I’m not doing a sum here.
It’s just that… this is how I’ve always processed it. I’d be angry at my dad for never being at home when I lost my keys and couldn’t get into the house, or for always being busy when I just wanted to see him - and then I’d just ignore it, because sometimes he was home, and anyway he was only so busy because he was trying to keep us alive.
I guess that’s why I couldn’t really make myself angry at the others before. I was cancelling things out again - telling myself the anger didn’t matter anymore, because at least they were still… taking care of me. Even if they didn’t know why I wasn’t sleeping, or why anything after that happened the way it did.
I pull my hands away from my eyes. I think I just need to remind myself that being angry at someone isn’t the same thing as hating them.
Lucifer hasn’t said anything else, but he doesn’t look as if he’s waiting for an answer - he seems more like he already knows what it is.
“...I’m not mad at you right now,” I say finally. “I just… wish you’d been there.”
“...” He takes a deep breath, then slowly inclines his head. “I… wish I’d been there as well.”
I wonder briefly what else he might try to say, but all he does is sit there quietly. I’d say I prefer it, but the silence is a little unnerving. With everything that’s been happening, it’s just kind of exhausting for things to get all tense again.
I re-situate myself, closing my eyes and coaxing myself into relaxing. It’s fine. Well, it’s not exactly, it’s all a bit of a giant problem, but… I can’t exactly try fixing it all at once. Especially not by myself. That’s not my job, anyway.
“...is there anything you’d have us do?” Lucifer asks suddenly. I open my eyes, but don’t look at him just yet. “If there is - then tell me.”
I consider it for a brief moment. Nothing comes. I shake my head. “I don’t know . Just— don’t do it again, I guess.”
He looks a little disbelieving. I add quickly, “I mean, not just that. But I don’t know what else yet.”
“...I see.” His expression clears a little. “Then I suppose we’ll have to figure it out ourselves. If you’re… willing to let us.”
He seems a little hopeful.
“I do want to forgive you, if that’s what you mean.” I finally look back up at him, just in time to see relief cross his face briefly. “So just let me figure it out.”
“Of course,” He says softly. He hesitates for a moment, then offers, “...for what it’s worth - you will always have a place with us. And— I’m sorry, as well, that we made you feel otherwise.”
I feel an odd little explosion of warmth, but don’t offer any reply other than a nod.
I imagine that he has to have something better to do with his time, but when he said he was here - apparently he’s proving it. I’m not sure how long passes, but as long as I don’t tell him to leave, he seems determined to stay.
The plate of apples he’s brought is beginning to brown, but I don’t think either of us feel like eating. It was nice of him to bring them anyway, though.
When Simeon comes knocking with a hot drink for me before bed, he only stops for a split second before greeting Lucifer as if everything here is perfectly normal, and setting the mug on the table, beside the plate of apples. He offers me a warm smile, and reminds me that he and Luke are in the room just down the corridor if I need them.
Lucifer stands up silently. He hesitates, lifting a hand - then drops it, only inclining his head to me when he says goodnight, and leaves first.
Simeon watches him go with a furrowed brow. He stays for long enough to usher me into bed properly, tucking the blankets around me, and leans down to press a brief kiss to the top of my head. After he steps out, closing the door behind him. I hear voices - one stern, one grave.
They disappear down the corridor soon enough. I think about it for a moment, then shrug and reach towards the table. Not my business. I might as well try to get something down before I go to bed. Even though I’ve spent most of my time so far sleeping, I think I want to sleep some more again.
Once I drift off - there’s that strange blank space where a dream would normally go once more, but that’s just what I was hoping for, so I’m not complaining. I have no idea how long I spend asleep - no one wakes me up, but the remaining apple slices and empty mug have been removed from the table, replaced by a glass of juice, and a pastry wrapped in tissue. Sitting next to them…
I squint at the little golden thing, then reach out to take it. Even holding it, it takes me a moment to realise what it is.
I have to resist the urge to throw it across the room as soon as I do. I’m not even sure what the point of leaving this here was. If it’s meant to be a gesture of peace… it’s a really bad one.
It’s the badge Barbatos gave me, just before he sent me through the door into the past - the one that made the attic door open. And practically everything that’s happened since then has been awful.
When he’d pinned it to my jumper before, I’d felt some kind of pulse from it. I guess that was whatever magic Diavolo infused into it. Now, though, it sits completely cold and still in the palm of my hand; I don’t feel anything from it.
So either Diavolo or Barbatos left these things here. How did they get the badge back again?
Well - I guess I don’t remember what happened to it. I’m not sure whether or not I was still wearing it when I died, or if it fell off. One of them could have just picked it up and kept it.
Or else they took it off my body before any of the others could notice. That’s… worse. A lot worse. But I guess there’s really not much it changes - not after finding out that Barbatos knew what would happen after he sent me through the door.
There really isn’t anything that gives me a reason to keep this. Apart from everything else it reminds me of, the royal coat of arms just isn’t that nice to look at. And I don’t exactly have any reason to feel too good about royals right now.
I sit there in silence for a while, feeling an odd mixture of emotions that I can’t really place. Eventually, though, I decide to just… leave it. I’ve got too many other things to think about right now. Barbatos and Diavolo have been decent enough to not attempt to approach me - this weird little gesture notwithstanding - so they can wait a little longer.
Or a lot longer. I’m not exactly in a rush to talk to them.
I look back down at the pastry, then sigh to myself and pick it up. I’m hungry - it’s not really worth ignoring the food out of pettiness. And it does taste very nice.
Despite already deciding that it has basically zero redeeming qualities, I don’t put the badge down, nor do I throw it away. I’m still holding it when I sidle out of my room, beginning to feel a little restless (that might have been the sugar in that pastry), and I’m just slipping it into my pocket when I hear someone call out to me from down the corridor.
My first instinct is to duck away, but I relax a little when I realise that it’s just Mephisto - being tailed by the other three members of the Newspaper Club.
“Looking fresh as a daisy,” He greets with a wide grin, then pauses, and leans forward a little. “How’re we feeling, scale of one to ten?”
I think about it for a moment. “...um… four.”
“That’s better than before,” He says, still smiling. I glance at the other three demons behind him. None of them seem to be in nearly as good a mood as him. “...something up?"
“Um…” Wiz makes a funny motion at me. She doesn’t have the grimoire with her anymore, I notice - but there are still a few Little Ds hovering around her shoulders. “...what about you? Scale of one to ten?”
For a moment, Mephisto’s expression doesn’t change. Then it seems to falter, just the littlest bit, and he lets out a rueful sigh.
“...dancing somewhere around the negatives, to be level with you,” He admits, but shakes his head and claps his hand on my shoulder. “I just, uh… don’t like this castle much. I’ll be fine once we can leave.”
“I don’t see why we have to stay,” Astaroth says, scowling slightly. His eyes dart to Mephisto, and then he leans back a little, folding his arms. “...the king’s gone, isn’t he? We should get to go home.”
“Well, you never know with him. You have to learn to account for it.” Mephisto’s still smiling valiantly. When he catches me glancing a little worriedly at Wiz and Alecto, he drops his voice and tells me, “They wouldn’t stop bothering me ‘til I told them how I knew the guy. I mean, it wasn’t the coolest story, but…”
“We’re all in the know here,” Alecto says with a shrug.
“O… oh.” I glance about, wondering if I should change the subject. Then my eyes fall back to the Little Ds still hanging around Wiz. “Um… where’s the grimoire?”
“I gave it back to Satan,” She says, shrugging a little. “It’s not mine, after all. I suppose it’ll be up to him whether or not he returns it to its old hiding place.”
“Where is he?”
“Out in the gardens, I think.” She pulls a face. “Heard him yelling at Beelzebub earlier. He’s in a bit of a nasty mood.”
At Beel?
“He told us to let you know not to go looking for him,” chirps one of the Little Ds by her shoulder. “Unless there’s something you need from him specifically.”
“Ah. Okay.” I look at it a little puzzledly. “So, if you don’t have the grimoire…”
“We can assist whoever we like,” Another Little D chimes. “I mean, there’s plenty of us around. The Lord isn’t going to miss just a few of us for a couple of days.”
“I had to say sorry for using the grimoire on them,” says Wiz a little ruefully. “But, you know, they’ve been very sweet since then. They’re unionised, did you know that?”
“They’re…?” I look back at the Little Ds. They nod at me enthusiastically.
“We’re not just mindless servants of the Lord,” one says. “We do get to choose. If we don’t like the ruler, we leave.”
“Tell you what, a lot of us were thinkin’ of skedaddling after this whole thing started,” adds another. “But, y’know— the Lord’s not a bad guy. He just doesn’t handle things great sometimes. We would’ve tried to talk to him, but His Highness is real scary…”
“We heard about you giving him a tell-off!” The first one exclaims with a wide three-fanged grin. “Good on you, miss! There are loads of us old enough to remember when he was in charge, and he stunk! Mind you, he’s still technically the BIG boss, so we have to be careful…”
“He’s not getting any younger,” says Mephisto with a quirk of his brow. “Let’s hope he kicks the bucket soon. It’d make things easier on all of us.”
“Gee, if only,” says a Little D fervently. “Let’s cross our fingers together, Master Mephisto. Well, I’ll cross my claws…”
“Mm.” Mephisto’s expression shifts slightly. “...I thought I told you to stop with the ‘master’ thing.”
“Aw, right…” The Little D looks repentant. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“It’s fine.” Mephisto clears his throat, then begins turning around. “ Any way, I’m due to meet with the magic man right about now, so… you all stay here and have fun, alright? Gotta go put a few bees in his bonnet…”
I half-expect the others to follow him anyway - or for Astaroth to, at the very least - but they just nod and wave. Mephisto vanishes quickly, almost as if he’s eager to get away from us. Or from the Little Ds, maybe.
“...he said he wasn’t going when Solomon texted him,” Alecto observes. “Guess something changed his mind.”
I look down the corridor a little anxiously. “Is he… alright?”
“Not quite,” Wiz sighs. “But leave him to us - we’ve got his back. You take care of yourself.”
I nod a little awkwardly, then glance towards Astaroth. He looks pensive; he seems to be dithering slightly, as if in two minds about something.
“...well, Mephisto’s busy,” Alecto says after a moment. “You can go do whatever it is you were fussing about last night now.”
“Uh…” Astaroth just looks uncomfortable. “...I guess, yeah…”
I look at him for a moment, then remember exactly why he’s even here in the castle. I have a feeling I know what he seems so conflicted about.
“Are you going to see Belphegor?” I ask quietly, and Astaroth tenses nearly immediately, bracing himself as if expecting a scolding. I barely even raise my voice at him, though. “Why did you bring him here in the first place?”
“...it’s, uh… complicated.” He rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. “What Satan said about him, before you all left for the castle - it didn’t make much sense. I mean, I’m not saying I know him better than his brother, but… it was weird. It was weird how he was acting before, too, when I was hanging out with him— before I knew what happened, I mean.”
“So you decided to get him to come to the castle?” Wiz frowns at him. “You know, I wasn’t going to question it, but that’s kind of stupid.”
“Yeah…” Astaroth winces a little. “...didn’t really think it through. I dunno, I guess I thought it’d help… didn’t know everything was gonna go south.”
Alecto pulls a face. “And you wanna go talk to him now?”
“I just want to clear something up,” He says defensively. “I don’t like him too much right now. And I don’t like what he did, or what he’s been doing, but…”
He lowers his voice a little. “...Mephisto wasn’t that great a guy before, either. He told me himself when I found him, actually— uh, once he was conscious again. And… I mean, you can’t tell me it wasn’t worth stopping for him then.”
There’s a pause. Wiz and Alecto both look a little appeased.
“...but—” Astaroth coughs, then abruptly turns to me. “Listen, I can just— ignore him, if you want me to. I’m not really, uh, part of this. You’re the one he hurt, so… whatever you want me to do…”
He trails off, making a weird gesture with his hands, then just grimaces a little and drops them. There’s a long pause.
I haven’t given myself time to think about Belphegor since escaping Sonno. There in that illusion, if that was him, just as the others were themselves…
It happened, and between everything else, I just kind of brushed over it in my memory. Setting it beside everything he told me in the Dreamscape, everything he did after we woke up, and then everything that the illusion was based on in the first place - it paints a weird picture.
I don’t have any idea what’s going on with him. He just seems to keep contradicting himself.
But I… still don’t have any sympathy for him. Part of me wishes I did, but I just can’t muster up anything. I’m supposed to be resting, anyway. Like Diavolo and Barbatos - he can wait.
“...you can talk to him if you want to,” I say finally, shrugging. “I don’t really care about him right now.”
“Attagirl,” Alecto nods with something of a smirk. Astaroth still looks a little anxious, though.
“I’ll… go, then.” He mutters, making another funny motion with his hands. “Thanks, twinkle. Shout if you need anything. Or, uh… if you change your mind.”
I nod and watch him turn and start wheeling himself down the corridor. Alecto and Wiz glance at each other.
“...seems like the boys are really going through it,” Alecto comments, then sighs, stretching. “Well, they’ll come to us if they need anything. What’re you thinking of doing, doll?”
“...uh…” I fiddle with my hands. “...do you… know where Mammon is?”
“I heard him yelling about something earlier,” Wiz offers. “I think he’s just been wandering around. We could check one of the wings… tell you what, come with us, we’ll look with you.”
“Oh, it’s fine…” I start, but she’s already trotting off down the corridor. Alecto just gives me a gentle bump in the arm and gestures for me to follow.
“...you know,” She starts after a moment, as Wiz instructs the Little Ds following her to go look for Mammon, “I don’t know if I could handle any of whatever the king was throwing at you.”
I shrug a little. “Just… gotta put up with it. I got lucky.”
“Lucky or not, you’re one tough human - tougher than most demons, actually. You should be pretty proud of that.” She pauses, for a moment. “...listen, I know we don’t know each other too well, but you’re a great kid. I mean, you shouldn’t’ve had to be this tough in the first place - but it’s cool as hell that you did it.”
“...th…thank you.” I’m not sure what else to say. Alecto reaches over and gives me a friendly punch in the shoulder.
“Hang in there, ‘kay?” She grins down at me. “The hard part’s over now.”
“You’ve got a lot of us rooting for you to pull through,” Wiz adds, slowing down to fall into step beside us. “We probably wouldn’t be your first choice, but we’re ready if you need us, too.”
“Thank you,” I repeat, beginning to feel a little embarrassed.
“...we do need to thank you for being so nice to Mephisto, too,” Wiz says thoughtfully as I subside into a sheepish silence. “We knew there were things he wasn’t telling us, we just didn’t want to pry - to let him talk in his own time, you know. I think you’ve played a pretty big part in helping him feel ready to do that.”
I nod, a little relieved that the topic is shifting. Alecto shoves her hands deep into her pockets. “I mean, we probably could’ve been better to him. But we know now. He seems to be getting better now, anyway.”
“It’s good that he’s talking to Solomon,” Wiz agrees. “Hopefully he and Barbatos can… at least communicate a little soon, too.”
I pause. I’m remembering something that confused me before - probably because it’s only now that I’ve thought of Mephisto and Barbatos in conjunction with each other.
“...hey, um— Mephisto said something about chrono…day? Do you know what that is?”
“Chronodae,” Wiz corrects, and now she looks a little more solemn. “Time demons. It’s just what it sounds like, really - demons with some kind of control over time. Chronodae formed the basis of the demon race, but most of us don’t have those powers anymore.”
“You know Professor Magdalene, right?” Alecto asks, and I nod. “She’s a chronodae. The original ones are all long dead now, but their successors are still around.”
I blink at them, then realise what that means. “So… Mephisto’s…”
“A chronodae, yes.” Wiz sighs, dipping her head slightly. “But he lost most of his powers when he fell into the king’s pit. So I suppose you could just call him a regular demon now.”
She sees the look on my face, then shakes her head and smiles again. “Ah, forget about it. Mephisto wouldn’t want you to get too hung up on it, anyway. And it’s all in the past now - we have to keep moving forward, don’t we?”
I nod, but I’m not entirely sure if I can just forget about it. Everything I’m learning about Mephisto makes it apparent that I don’t know him nearly as well as I thought I did - and I get the feeling that there’s still more I haven’t been told. And even more than I’ll never find out.
…ah, well. That kind of applies to all the others, too… considering how drastically different our lifespans are.
“...did you know that already?” I ask. Alecto and Wiz exchange a look, then shrug.
“I mean, it’s not like we ever saw him doing, like, time magic,” says Alecto. “We figured he had something going on, ‘specially since him and Professor Maggie always talked weird to each other - but we never asked.”
“Mephisto himself said it was irrelevant,” Wiz tells me. “By the time any of us met him, he’d already lost those powers. Astaroth didn’t know, either, ‘til he told us last night.”
I look at them. They look remarkably nonchalant about all of this. “...and that’s not… um… weird?”
“Oh, it’s hella weird.” Alecto throws her hands up in the air and pulls an incredulous face. “But we’re all old, we’re ancient , probably went out of date ages ago - it’s pretty easy to forget how much of each other’s lives we don’t know jackshit about."
We stop walking. Alecto drops her hands again and shrugs. “...but, y’know, we’re still us. Me and Wiz, we’d both been around for ages before we met, and then it was even longer before we got together. There’s probably stuff we still don’t know about each other, but it’s not like we’re trying to keep secrets. There’s just some stuff that doesn’t matter, and some stuff that we need a bit longer to talk about.”
“That person you know is the part that matters, we’ve learnt,” Wiz tells me. “And things are always capable of changing. It’s a little strange to think about what he used to be, but Mephisto’s still our Mephisto - one of our best friends. So it’s all alright, really.”
I nod. Honestly… I kind of envy how close the Newspaper Club seems.
“Ma’am!” One of the Little Ds comes fluttering around the corner. “We haven’t found Mr Mammon, but Mistress Helene said she saw him!”
It flaps a wing at us, then leads the way to a painting a little ways down the hall. Helene’s eyes light up as soon as she sees us; leaning forward, she gestures for me to come closer.
“IK,” She says with heavy relief. “That old man didn’t manage to lay a finger on you, did he?”
“Um, no…” She looks oddly tired, I notice. “...how are you?”
“Oh, I’m quite alright,” She says dismissively with a shake of her head. “It’s just that - whatever his royal highness was using to shield the ballroom, it was really quite wearing to try to get in. I have to say, it’s a little impressive, I shouldn’t be able to feel tired, by all accounts… but enough about me - how have you been faring?”
“Bit, um…” I shrug. “...bit rough. So, um— you’ve seen Mammon?”
“I have,” She nods. “Asmodeus came to me - for whatever reason, he wanted me to send him and Leviathan down to the catacombs. Leviathan dragged Mammon along with them.”
“The catacombs?” I repeat, frowning. “Why would they wanna go down there?”
“Bit of a weird spot to pick,” agrees Alecto. “But I guess we’re all looking for stuff to kill time with…”
“It could be something to do with the snake Leviathan mentioned,” Wiz suggests. “It’s down there in the catacombs, isn’t it?”
Henry? “Oh."
Helene peers at me as I grimace a little down at the floor. “...I assume this isn’t about a dislike for the snake.”
I just shrug a little again. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing to ask after Mammon. In hindsight, considering who he’s with… I think I might rather go look for Solomon, or the angels.
I’m not sure if I can handle being in the same place as three of the brothers at once. Mammon is one thing. but if it’s another repeat of last night…
The thing about trying to figure everything out, trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened to me, is that I can’t look at it directly. It’s strange and malevolent, and as soon as I try to confront it head-on, it grows - howling and writhing, like a beast made out of murk.
I have to get closer slowly, and wait for it to lay its twisted head down on its own. Once it’s calm, I can comfort it, and eventually it’ll settle down to sleep quietly in my lap.
I don’t regret talking to Lucifer. I just don’t think I could do that again any time soon. If the others try to ask the same questions he did, I still won’t have an answer. And I have to take my time finding them, if they exist; if I move too fast, the beast will only get angrier. Or sadder. Some combination of the two.
Though… to be honest, I don’t want to strictly avoid the others, either. It’s more a matter of being scared of the awkward parts, but I can’t calm the beast on my own. Even if the beings I need to help me helped create it in the first place.
Well— maybe not need. But I want them to be.
“...could you send me down, too?” I ask finally, linking my hands a little anxiously behind my back and looking back up at Helene. “To wherever they are? I’d, um… like to talk to them.”
There’s a pause. Helene opens her mouth, looking as if she doesn’t consider that a good idea at all, but Wiz clears her throat, and asks first, “Is that what you want to do?”
I nod, albeit a little hesitantly. Wiz nods back, a kind of half-understanding look on her face. “And would you like us to come with you?”
“Um…” I think it over for a few moments. “...no, thank you.”
“Well, take this with you,” Alecto tells me, rummaging in her pocket and pulling out her D.D.D., then holding it out. “You don’t have yours, right? Borrow mine, just call whenever you wanna get out. We’ll find the prince, or whoever else has permission to get stuff out of the catacombs.”
“The boys down there probably have at least one D.D.D. between them,” Wiz says with a quirk of her eyebrow.
Alecto shrugs, shifting her weight to one leg and knocking her in the arm with an affectionate grin. “Just to be safe…”
“They did neglect to discuss plans for getting out before they asked to be put in,” Helene agrees, though she seems a little distracted by something else. Her eyes settle briefly on the way Alecto’s hand remains on Wiz’s arm. “...Alecto, if I’m not mistaken, this is… the Havres you mentioned?”
“Wiz to friends,” Alecto corrects, but nods. “Yup. About time I introduced you, huh?”
“If you have time for a chat…” Helene’s expression seems wistful. Then she seems to catch herself, and turns back to me. “Then, IK, dear - you’re sure about this?”
I nod again, more confidently this time. She still doesn’t seem entirely convinced that this is the right idea, but she does acquiesce. “...alright, then. Whenever you’re ready.”
Her hands lift, already beginning to crackle with that pink lightning. I glance towards Wiz and Alecto, who just nod back to me.
“Let us know if you ever wanna hang,” Alecto says. “We’ve got room in the club for more.”
“And do tell if anyone needs a good dressing-down,” Wiz adds. “Hold your head high, and don’t take any nonsense.”
“...thank you.” I’m not sure how to express myself here, but… “You’re both, um… really cool.”
They both smile at me; Alecto looks a little bashful. I turn back to Helene - she smiles, too, and the pink glow quickly climbs out of the painting.
Unlike the first time it happened, the lightning is almost gentle - rather than yanking me forward into the painting, it seems to kind of… lift me through. Rather than ending up on the floor of the catacombs, my feet settle carefully down on it.
I glance around, then pause as I register the wall of scales to my right. Henry’s body seems to be rippling slightly, but he isn’t moving; he’s just resting quietly on the ground.
I can hear voices from around the corner, too, coming from where I assume his head is. I stay still for a little longer, reaching up and giving myself a firm pat on the face, and take a deep breath. Then, slowly, I walk around to greet the others.
They fall silent as soon as I do - turning to me with wide eyes that soften a moment later. A moment later, Mammon, standing further back from the other two, pushes off the wall he was leaning against and comes up to me.
He already looks as if he’s prepared to say something, but he seems to second-guess just as he stops in front of me. Maybe I was already telegraphing some kind of plea on my face - but then he just grins, sets a hand on my shoulder, and asks, “Where’ve you been, huh?”
“I was asleep…” I can feel myself relaxing a little already. “Um— what are you guys doing?”
“I—” Levi’s voice is high-pitched. His eyes dart to Mammon, then to me, then back to Mammon - and then he goes back on himself. “I mean, um - we were looking for stuff to do, and Asmo said something about Henry, and— he actually does remember me, I think, can you believe that?”
“We did want to invite you,” Asmo tells me, standing on one side of Henry’s head, absently-mindedly swishing his hand over his scales. “But we… figured you wouldn’t wanna be bothered.”
His gaze falls for a moment, but then he clears his throat and smiles, apparently deciding to follow Mammon’s example as well. “Come talk to him, darling. He’s a big old sweetheart.”
Mammon follows me over and remains hovering just behind me as I approach Henry’s head. Levi gestures for me to come stand where he was before, and quietly points out a ridge of scales just beneath his eye. I think it’s the same one that Henry seemed to direct my hand towards back when he guided us out of the catacomb under Asmo’s mesmer.
“...y-you know, I’ve kinda been thinking about introducing him to Gerald,” Levi says after a moment. He sounds almost impressively normal - save for the slightly anxious lilt creeping into his voice. “You remember, the snake you brought back from the human world?”
Mammon snorts. “How’re you plannin’ on getting Henry all the way back to the house?”
“I’d bring Gerald here , obviously,” Levi shoots back, shaking his head exasperatedly. He pauses, then adds to me, “Gerald’s a bit of a weird name, right? But the little guy responds to it and everything. I wanted to call him Shadows or something, but he totally ignored me when I tried it out on him…”
“It’s weirdly smart for a regular human-world snake,” Asmo notes, coming around Henry’s snout to stand with the rest of us. He taps me gently on the shoulder as he comes to a stop, like a sort of silent ‘I’m here’.
“Grisella said he swallowed a magic rock or something,” I say, scratching at the ridge of scales. I still don’t know how Henry feels any of this - I don’t think snakes usually enjoy petting - but, then again, he’s not a regular snake, and he seems relaxed.
There’s a lull in the conversation. I can tell that Levi and Asmo are having some kind of silent exchange, but I can’t really blame them.
Then, abruptly, Levi turns to look at me. “H-hey— um— do you… think you’ll be ready to come back?”
I look blankly up at him, still running my hand absent-mindedly down Henry’s scales. He seems to get nervous quickly. “I— I mean, you don’t have to, it’s just—”
“—it’d be nice to have you back home,” Asmo finishes for him, giving me a hopeful look. “You could come back with us once we can leave.”
I half-expect Mammon to say something as well, but he stays silent. I can feel his gaze on my back, though.
Henry’s tongue flickers as my hand slowly comes to a halt. There’s something oddly soothing about staring into his great yellow eye - the colour’s so harsh that it brings a weird kind of clarity.
What do you think? I ask him silently. You seem like a smart guy.
Of course, Henry doesn’t say anything. But something about his gaze seems sympathetic.
I sigh quietly. “...I’ll think about it.”