Part 21
By Nomdreserv
The Council chamber was awash in noises. The loudest was a report from the one of the most senior and respected Healers, insisting that there was no sign of the magical contagion that Canis had suggested, but nearly as loud were the shouted questions, challenges or demands from members. However, there was also a strong undercurrent of murmuring amongst small groups of members, their speech hurried and sharp despite their low tones, reflecting the somber, tense mood at the emergency session.
Zhukov ignored most of it. Indeed, like many men of action (not to mention anyone who had been without sleep for two days), he took the opportunity of required sitting as an opportunity for rest, and sat back in his chair with his eyes closed, just close enough to consciousness to react if needed.
He heard a voice in his ear, seemingly closer than even his neighbor, and magically amplified.
“Sir!”
His eyes snapped open, and he became alert. It had to be something important if they were using magic to contact him directly, in effect creating a small hole in space between them.
“Yes?” he didn’t need to talk in a specific direction – the spell took care of that. His neighbor looked at him briefly, recognizing a spell-call, but couldn’t hear the other speaker.
“Sir, it’s Uatu.”
Zhukov recognized the voice. Uatu was another Watcher apprentice.
“Yes, Uatu.”
“Sir, I … we … we’ve detected some more chaotic surges.”
Zhukov sat bolt upright, drawing more attention. A few mages surreptitiously waggled fingers, using their own magic in the hopes of listening in, the equivalent of trying to move closer to listen to a cell phone call.
“Where? When? What?” Zhukov asked. “A portal? A desolation?”
“We … I don’t know, sir. There was a very powerful one a few hours ago. And there have been follow-ups. I … I think there was teleportation magic. And something else. Definitely something else. Maybe more than one caster…demon…whatever.”
Zhukov resisted swearing. Watchers varied in their abilities naturally, and all of them were operating under severe pressure in the emergency. To top it off, most had never been exposed to this level of demonic activity. On the other hand, the timeliness of the report was almost criminal.
“Why didn’t you report this before?” he asked trying to hide the anger in his voice.
“Sir, I … I didn’t recognize what it was, sir.”
“Then who did? Why are you reporting it now?”
A long pause.
“Lina helped me, sir.”
Zhukov felt a surge of hope. Lina must have returned early from her required rest. Although also only an apprentice, Lina showed more natural ability than any Watcher in his experience.
“What else does Lina say?” he asked urgently. “Do you have any idea where the magic originated?”
“Sorry, sir. She was able to reinterpret my notes, but she wasn’t here when it happened.”
“Oh. Damn. Yes, of course.” Zhukov rubbed his aching temples. “Very well.”
“Sir, I may not be able to give you an exact location,” Uatu admitted, before adding importantly, “But it was close.”
Fucking useless! Zhukov thought, but thanked the Watcher for the report. At least he could hope for more now that Lina was back on the job. She seemed to have an incredible affinity for chaotic magic. Almost as if …
He shook his head. Fatigue was making him doubt his own staff.
He returned his attention to one of the Council members who had stood up and was speaking very loudly.
“Where is Zauberersohn?” he demanded. “Size magic is his specialty. Where is he? What the hell is he doing during this crisis?”
There was a reactionary murmur, much of it assenting. President Petain answered.
“Councilor Zauberersohn has, in fact, been working on this problem for two days.”
“Well? Where is he? What’s his report?”
She glanced at Zhukov. He had been charged with making sure the available councilors and mages would attend the meeting. He made a slight gesture in reply, to indicate he had been unable to contact Gregor.
“His report is … not yet available.”
Another murmur. “Typical!” one councilor, a friend of Scarabus, commented more loudly, and there was another mumbled assent.
“What about these demon attacks?” an older member shouted. “I heard there’s been another desolation.” He looked a challenge in Zhukov’s direction. “I heard the CSA itself has been successfully spelled. Agents lost and missing. What’s being done to protect us?”
The reactionary murmur this time degenerated into shouts and more questions. While Zhukov tried to explain what they could and couldn’t do under the circumstances, Petain signaled Canis. He walked over immediately.
“See if you can find Zauberersohn,” she said quietly. “I know he’s probably hoping to surprise us all with a dramatic entrance, but we need him here now.”
Canis nodded and hurried from the chamber. No one noticed another figure immediately stand to follow him.
Kei had fallen asleep very, very happy. And very, very small. But that only testified to the extent that she had been enjoying herself. The lovemaking with Callista had been everything she had dreamed of, and her small size had only contributed to it. Kei – famous for being in control, for being dominant, for being undefeated in almost all forms of combat – had been literally swept off her feet, and had experienced the most complete surrender of her sexual life, literally helpless in another woman’s arms.
Though helpless was a relative term as far as their actual lovemaking had gone. Callista’s aggression had continued into the bedroom, and had turned into a gloriously slow, sensual session of kissing and caressing, but she had faltered after that. For as much as Callista had read about sex, she was still completely new to it, and Kei had been forced to act as a tutor without being obvious.
For someone new to both sex in general and sex with another woman in particular, Callista had taken to it expertly and passionately. Any remaining inhibitions – though it was doubtful by this point that any persisted – had been discarded. First, she had pretended to hold Kei down, continuing their pantomime about dominance, her mouth moving from Kei’s small lips, down her neck, and then to her breasts. Callista teased Kei about how much smaller those breasts were from her shrinking, but to be honest, even with Kei half size, they were more than a mouthful. Not that it stopped her from trying to take them all in. She started by licking the tiny, candy-corn nipples, so small but stiff, and still delightful to flick with her tongue. She had then engulfed the nipples and slowly sucked in more and more of Kei's breasts, running her tongue over and all around the nipple, making the pint-sized woman arch her back and moan. To even be close to having her entire breast in Callista’s mouth was an entirely new experience, exciting from its strangeness and intensely pleasurable in its own right.
When Callista had hesitated as to what to do next, Kei had gently guided her hand down towards her already soaking sex. She had gasped to feel that long, strong finger caress her, softly exploring her cleft and just grazing the engorged clit at its crown. She had gasped again when the finger tentatively entered her, and began slowly moving in and out. It seemed to expand and fill her more with each stroke.
In fact, of course, it was doing just that, since Kei’s intense excitement was causing her to shrink even faster. Callista looked on in amazement as Kei shrank before her eyes, her head slipping off the pillow, leaving behind a trail of magnificent red hair like a crimson bridal veil. Her feet slipped up the sheet, her tiny toes curling in her excitement. Those huge breasts contracted like balloons, although they remained proportional (it didn’t take large breasts to make a doll well-endowed), and her excited moans began to sound like squeaks of excitement.
Callista could feel Kei’s vagina contract as well. It became amazingly tight, even as it remained warm and wet. Her finger became too long to fit in, leaving her with shorter and shorter strokes. She felt the walls of Kei’s vagina contract slightly and rhythmically with each movement – the orchestra responding to the conductor’s direction.
It was intoxicating. She had never touched another woman (or anyone, for that matter) sexually, and found the experience both frightening and liberating. To give another person such pleasure was the greatest joy she had known, not to mention intensely arousing for herself. The extra layer of shrinking only added to that excitement.
In a sense, it was almost easier to be with another woman for her first time – she knew what she herself liked when she masturbated, and found it easier to project what to do to her partner. She added light stroking around Kei’s labia and clit to supplement her finger fucking.
Kei moaned, reveling in the amazing combination of pressure and movement. The sensations from Callista’s stroking combined with her gentle penetration to send her into ecstasy. She wasn’t into cocks, but she recognized the utility of their design (her collection of vibrators was an admission to their eminently practical purposes), and this was like being fucked by the longest, thickest, most carefully directed cock in the world.
Size mattered. So huge, so powerful. And she was so small and so helpless. It was wonderful.
Kei writhed and shook slightly, and at first, Callista was afraid she was hurting her, but a high-pitched moan of pleasure reassured her. She looked at the glistening pink folds of her lover’s slit as she caressed it, so tiny and perfect, and saw the tiniest rosebud of her swelling clit appear at the top.
Instinctively, she leaned down and flicked her tongue across it, getting her first taste of another woman’s sex. The musky dew was intoxicating, and she used her tongue more enthusiastically, drawing it across Kei’s clit and pussy, and actually sucking the tiny, pink nubbin into her mouth.
Kei’s eyes went wide. As if feeling the equivalent of a thick, 12 inch cock moving in and out of her pussy hadn’t been enough (and it was), she now felt what seemed like a two foot long tongue slide across her clit – rougher than normal, but that only magnified the intensity of sensation, sending her right into the first of her orgasms.
She screamed – or squeaked, more accurately – bucked and writhed, each orgasmic wave extracting another inch of her height, and making the sensations of finger and tongue even more powerful. Callista could feel the tiny pussy contract in an alternating series: one squeeze as Kei’s muscles flexed in orgasm, and another as her vagina continued to shrink. The combination seemed perpetual, to the point that Kei’s pussy seemed to be closing dangerously tight around her finger, and she finally pulled the digit free with a soft, sucking pop.
Kei shook and cried a few more times as her orgasms finally wound down. She only slowly seemed to regain her senses, and she opened her eyes and stared about wildly at first as though disoriented.
As well she should be. She couldn’t be much more than a foot tall. Her bedroom looked to be the size of an aircraft hangar. The bed spread out like a soccer field, and Callista loomed over her like a 50 foot goddess.
Callista smiled down at her tiny lover.
“Hi,” Callista said, quietly, almost shyly.
Kei tried to catch her breath, thrashing her head from side to side, and still writhing.
“Oh, God!” she squeaked. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
Callista was afraid she had hurt her, or that Kei regretted what they had done
“Kei, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
Kei’s thoughts snapped back into focus upon hearing the alarm in Callista’s voice.
“I'm … fine.” She trembled a little, as the effort to speak triggered another mini-orgasm aftershock.
Callista sighed, but then looked worried again at the strange reaction.
“Did…did I do all right?”
Kei stared at her as though she were crazy. She collected herself, drew her knees up, then slowly stood up, fixing her eyes on Callista’s gravely. Even standing, she was shorter than the sitting Callista, and it was a comical sight as she came close enough to look her straight in the eye, looking like a Barbie doll confronting its owner. She held the grave expression for a few more seconds, before her face exploded into the most glorious smile Callista had ever seen.
“God yes! You are fan-fucking-tastic!”
She began pushing on Callista’s upper body as though to topple her. It was a ridiculous gesture, and Callista barely felt it, but she obligingly fell down nonetheless, giggling as she did so.
Kei surveyed the cast expanse of woman before her. Callista was magnificent – her long, muscular
body seemed to stretch on forever. Her
breasts rose like hills before her, and her stomach was a plain extending to the
“
Since her orgasms had stopped her shrinking, Kei knew she could take her time. She wanted this to be very special, all the more so because Callista had chosen her for this gift. She started by walking up the bed to where Callista’s head lay against the pillow. She began stroking her hair, playfully wrapping her entire body up in the strands before releasing them. She lightly stroked Callista’s ear, taking time and special attention to caress the pointed end, and drawing the expected sighs of pleasure. This was even more effective than a normal lover’s touch, for not only do pointed ears have very sensitive tips, but as a stigma of her demonic parentage, Callista felt unusually sensitive about them. Kei’s action showed not only a sensual understanding of the pleasure, but served also as a tacit acceptance – an embracing of what made her different.
Kei finally moved on to touch Callista’s lips, drawing her fingers lovingly across them, and noting happily that they parted slightly in response. She repeatedly pressed her own lips against Callista’s, hopelessly mismatched, yet somehow still sensual and intimate. Callista felt each one like a butterfly’s kiss.
Her tiny kisses moved down Callista’s neck, and then to her chest. Kei stood between breasts the size of haystacks, reaching out to touch them both with her outstretched palms. She climbed to the top of one, sitting just above the stiff, bucket-sized nipple and began to rub it, her firm squeezing and stroking feeling like the gentlest caresses to Callista, and drawing the appropriate sighs of pleasure. Kei used her own breasts to engulf it, marveling that her own prodigious breasts just barely managed to cover another woman’s nipple, and performed a modified titty-fuck, sending Callista into her own writhing and moaning.
The result was breast-coitus interruptus. It was like trying to have sex during an earthquake. Kei slipped off the heaving breast, briefly grabbed the nipple as a lifeline, making Callista gasp again, but finally slid off entirely and sprawled onto the bed. Callista’s eyes flew open in alarm for her tiny lover.
“Oh, Kei! Are you all right?”
Kei started laughing at her predicament.
“
Callista blushed and bit her lip.
“Sorry. It … it just felt so good.”
“Just lie back, sweety. You haven’t felt anything yet.”
Callista obeyed, feeling slightly tense as Kei returned to her body. She trembled slightly, her heart racing, when Kei moved past her breasts and started massaging her stomach. She felt like a girl on her first “serious” date. Letting Kei kiss and play with her breasts was one thing, but was she really ready for …
She gasped, feeling Kei’s feather-light touch along her cleft. She shuddered slightly, and nearly had a climax right then. She bit her lip again, desperate to feel that touch return, and automatically opened her legs in invitation.
She was ready.
Kei felt the shudder, saw Callista’s tree-trunk sized legs move apart slightly, and knew her friend was ready. But that first touch was just the appetizer to whet her appetite. Instead of returning to Callista’s pussy, she started caressing and rubbing her thighs and the folds where they joined her body. This drew more moans and sighs, but Kei continued gently massaging the other areas around her pelvis – the crease beneath her slit, the skin above her pubes, the insides of her thighs – everywhere but her pussy itself, until Callista was shaking and whimpering slightly, and her cleft had become overwhelmingly wet and warm. She kissed and sucked the sensitive skin around Callista’s navel, then went back to teasing her pubic area with expert foreplay. She wanted the moment to proceed to be perfect.
“Oh, God, Kei! Please!” Callista begged.
Kei smiled. OK, that sounded perfect.
She gingerly reached out to stroke the yard-long, soaking, slick folds of Callista’s engorged labia. Once again, Callista writhed, nearly having an immediate orgasm, and clenching her thighs automatically. But Kei was ready this time, and rode the earthquake out. Indeed, she used it to her advantage, squeezing her entire body into Callista’s cleft as a shelter, and sending waves of pleasure through her lover’s body.
She probed Callista’s vagina gingerly but expertly – a living tunnel that swallowed her entire arm. Callista was bucking more strongly now, both from pleasure and at the knowledge that Kei was inside her – her lover was actually inside her!
A small part of her actually dared that voice inside her head to return. She wanted to scream at it, show it that she could be loved. That she was loved.
But there was no sign of that taunting voice, and to be fair, the desire to prove it wrong was only a very small part of her exultation. Most of her being was caught up in the glories of her released sexuality and the incredible pleasure from Kei’s touch.
Kei used her free hand to part the thick, curtain-like folds of Callista’s labia. She found the plum-sized swelling of her stiff clit, and began to lick it, savoring the strange, exotic musk of Callista’s juices, unlike any woman’s she had ever tasted. There was the familiar sharp musk, but something deeper and more complex. They were almost spicy-sweet and salty, and thicker than normal, like licking the cinnamon filling from a sticky bun.
How much of this was Callista’s natural state, and how much was an effect of her lust spells, didn’t matter to Kei. The scent and taste were intoxicating, and she started sucking on the swollen clit like a popsicle.
Callista’s eyes flew open. She had the strangest feelings deep inside her: intense, hot and rhythmic. Her whole body seemed to contract until every nerve was centered in her sex. Something built up inside her, almost like needing to pee, almost like she was about to explode. This didn’t feel like the mild orgasms she had when masturbating. It felt like … like …
Kei felt Callista’s vagina contract around her arm, and her whole body tensed and began to quiver. She saw her lover’s eyes roll up, the eyelids fluttering wildly, and her head thrash in disbelief. Her back arched, her breasts heaved, and her thighs quivered.
And she screamed.
Not a frightened or baleful scream. No, this was a scream of joy, a scream of release, and a scream of a dream fulfilled. It was a scream so powerful, Kei actually thought she heard it echo outside her door. Callista screamed and cried and thrashed as she coasted from one intense orgasm to another, guided by Kei’s expert touch and perfect appreciation.
And afterwards, she cried. And these were tears of joy as well.
And Kei had kissed those tears away. And after that, they had kissed and loved and cried some more. And they had done things which proved that Callista really didn’t have any inhibitions any more, and Kei had grown very small indeed.
After exchanged promises of love, and jokes about Kei’s size, and Callista’s insatiability, there had been some last kissing, and then very happy cuddling, with Callista tucking Kei into the crook of her arm like a favorite bedtime doll. And Kei had been very, very happy. And she had assumed Callista was very, very happy. And they had fallen asleep in a perfect little world, secret and only for them, an enchanted garden created by the most natural and ancient of magics.
Which is why she was surprised to wake now, hours later, alone against the pillow, to find Callista sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark of the room.
Callista was sobbing very, very quietly, but very, very deeply.
And these were not tears of joy.
And Kei’s heart broke.
Zhukov almost swore as he received the new priority message, after the useless interruption from Uatu before. He gestured, activating a private connection.
“Yes?” he barked. His eyes went wide. “Alive? Where? Where is she now? Of course, I’ll be there as soon as possible. No, no – wait for me.”
He gestured to break the connection. Ignoring the curious eyes that followed him, he pushed his way immediately next to Petain, and whispered in her ear.
Her eyes went equally wide, and she also showed a rush of relief and joy that Zhukov had hidden in his professionalism. She instantly nodded, acquiescing in his departure, and he teleported away.
She let herself enjoy the moment, even as the angry debate, temporarily quelled in the intense curiosity regarding Zhukov’s actions, swelled again and roiled around her. The first good news since the attacks started. Perhaps they were nearing the end of the nightmare.
Canis gratefully heard the murmurs and shouts from the Council chamber recede as he walked down the corridor. He had turned to the office area when he heard a voice call out behind him.
“Councilor! A word.”
“Councilor Scarabus!” Canis said in surprise, turning and recognizing his colleague. Their relationship was professional, but hardly warm, and neither sought the other out for company.
“Good day, Canis,” Scarabus replied with exaggerated good nature. “I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion. I saw you leave, and don’t wish to detain you from your business, but there is a matter of some urgency. And it is in your province.”
He accepted Canis’s outstretched hand readily but briefly. Though he disguised it completely, he was repulsed by the man’s corpulence.
“Of course,” Canis answered earnestly. He felt surprise, since it was well known that Scarabus did not share his own views about the nature of the ifrit, and it was out of character for him to seek advice from any “lesser” sorcerer. “But you didn’t need to follow me, Councilor. I would have been happy to talk in the chamber.”
“Ah,” Scarabus said, hesitating. “Yes, that might have served. But there’s so much confusion and noise in there. I'm afraid Petain and Zhukov may have lost the Institute’s support. The crisis has exposed them. Such a series of unfortunate events. Most horrifying.” He pretended a small shudder. “More importantly, my concerns, while quite grave, might be misconstrued as personal, and I would prefer the utmost discretion. I thought the opportunity to talk to you alone might be the best means to assure that.”
Canis nodded stiffly.
“Of course, Councilor. How can I
help you?”
Scarabus became grave. “I believe I've identified the demon responsible for the attacks.”
“What?” Canis sputtered. “Who is it? Where are they? You’ve alerted the CSA, surely? Do they agree?”
“I have alerted no one,” Canis explained patiently. “Except you, now.”
“But…”
Scarabus cut him off. “I have no proof. And any accusations I would make would be viewed with extreme prejudice. Indeed, I believe they would cause more harm than good since they would drive the threat underground.”
Canis stared at him, almost wondering if this was some kind of joke, but Scarabus seemed completely sincere. But what was he hoping Canis could do to help him?
“Why is that?” he asked warily.
“The ‘why’ may be answered by the ‘who’,” Scarabus clarified. “Callista Albeon.”
Canis almost laughed, but Scarabus’ grim face made that impossible. He relaxed a little nonetheless. “Councilor,” he began warmly. “I can assure you that I know Miss Albeon quite well, and whatever caused you to identify her as the culprit is clearly misguided. I would say she poses no threat whatever. Quite the opposite. I’ve never met a demi-ifrit like her before.”
“Indeed?” Scarabus asked skeptically, his lip curling ever so slightly. “I was unaware that you could judge demons so reliably.”
Canis chuckled. “I can’t,” he admitted. “But I like to think I can evaluate people, and on that basis, I have no qualms about her. And it’s not just me. Why, the Council itself endorsed her entry into the Institute. She impressed several members very much.”
Scarabus didn’t bother to hide his antipathy this time. “One member, you mean.”
“Really, Councilor, I don’t think Zauberersohn’s feelings entered into it at all. After all, she was voted in before he got his Council seat. And before their … relationship even started.”
“Are you sure of that?” Scarabus asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Well, I can’t be sure of what they did or didn’t do,” Canis admitted. “But I see no reason to doubt either of them.” He was feeling more skeptical and confrontational about Scarabus’s worries now, and realized why Scarabus had refrained from a more public accusation. Not only would his well known antipathy to Gregor make his motives suspect, but Gregor himself would have roared to her defense, maybe even to the extreme of a full Wizard’s Duel.
“I do. Indeed, in my opinion, there can be no doubt as to her guilt.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Canis seemed to bristle at the continued innuendo.
“As you know,” Scarabus continued unperturbed. “I maintain my own supplemental agents for intelligence and defense.” Canis nodded. Many particularly powerful mages kept their own entourage, a sometimes useful or at least convenient vestige of the medieval model wherein sorcerers kept their own houses, just as the barons and princes had armies in service to a king. “And they have recently provided me with some disturbing accounts regarding Ms. Albeon.”
Canis was still skeptical. “Such as?”
“You are aware of her recent trans-planar journey? A visit to Daemon itself?”
“Naturally. In fact, I helped her make a full report of it. But that was in service to the Institute. In fact, it saved us from…”
“Yes, yes,” Scarabus interrupted, waving impatiently. “No need to go into that business. And a very convenient pretense, I’ll admit.”
“Really, Councilor,” Canis snorted impatiently. “I see no reason to…”
“And she no doubt included in the report her continued communications with the arch-demon, Belisarius, she contacted there?” Scarabus cut him off, delivering the killing strike. “Communications which continue to this day. What do you make of that?”
Canis opened his mouth, closed it, then repeated the act several times in shock. “What communications?” he finally demanded suspiciously. “She’s had no contact whatever since…”
“On the contrary,” Scarabus replied smoothly. “I have it on good authority that she’s using her dreams as a portal. Indeed, that she has already brought this demon across for a limited incursion preparatory to full incarnation. You’ve seen the recent spikes in chaotic flux?”
Canis nodded reluctantly. “We suspected a portal. But we’ve been unable to trace…”
“She is the portal.”
Canis was struggling with his thoughts. This accusation was certainly theoretically possible. Callista had the power to connect to Daemon, and had already done so, but he still couldn’t accept that she would do so willingly. He fixed on the other name almost desperately.
“This Belisarius you mentioned…?”
“Belisarius is an arch-demon of the 25th order. Albeon has received him in her dreams on at least three occasions. Received him willingly, I must emphasize. Full transplanar communication. They are undoubtedly connected.”
Canis had lost his air of confidence, and his face was slack from shock, but he asked questions grimly, still trying to make sense of the revelation. “Tainted?” he asked in disbelief. “She’s tainted?”
“Corrupted more likely,” Scarabus said with assurance. “That would be necessary to allow him to act through her.”
Canis shook his head stubbornly. “Acting through her? I can’t believe…”
“Isn’t it true that she was responsible for infecting that man, Rhodes, with a chaotic virus?” Scarabus demanded. “The very size magic that’s causing such a disaster?”
“Yes,” Canis admitted. “But that was an accident.”
“Was it?” Scarabus smiled without humor. “Or was it another attempt to ravage the Institute ranks? The same mutagenic virus that nearly claimed us all in that regression curse, but coupled with unending shrinking. Only the fact that she mistakenly infected a null kept the virus from spreading. Otherwise, we would all be ankle high by now.”
Canis said nothing. There were insufficient facts to argue the point either way. Scarabus paused long enough to make sure the suspicion had been planted, then pressed on.
“And the curses placed on those agents she pretends such friendship with - so very conveniently giving her an inside connection to the CSA - weren’t those also human-chaotic magical hybrids?”
“Yes.” Canis was looking more worried, though still unconvinced.
“Agent Yuri was undoubtedly the greater threat to her,” Canis continued as though revealing the solution to a drawing room mystery. “That’s why she attacked her intelligence. Kei’s curse was probably just for humiliation – you know how demons are. She’d feed off that. Or perhaps the spells were just side effects: diversions. The important point was to neutralize the agents after they’d learned too much.”
“Now, really, Scarabus,” Canis felt he was being pushed too far, too fast. “There’s no reason to suspect that those spells had any such…”
But Scarabus interrupted yet again, building inexorably and keeping Canis off balance. “Of course not. I’m sure the agents made full reports about Albeon’s dreams before they became distracted from her spells.”
“Yuri and Kei knew about the dreams?” Canis looked defeated. Potential unsecured demonic portals had to be reported immediately.
“Yes. In fact, I believe you’ll find the curses were placed immediately after they discovered her secret, virtually proving my inference. Luckily, my own agents were unrevealed, and were able to report the facts back to me. The information is all here.” He gestured in the air, and a disc appeared in his hand. “Their depositions. The evidence for the chaotic spikes.” He paused. “The evidence is overwhelming anyway, but we have her own behavior to guide us. I assume from your reaction that you knew nothing about the dreams?”
Canis’ mouth was set. “No.”
“Did she allow you or any other high level mage to examine her after the curses were discovered in the others?”
“No. Just the Healers.”
“Of course not. She couldn’t. She can disguise chaotic magic from a Healer, but not an archmage. Your divination spell would have revealed the sympathetic pattern of the magic tainting her, and probably matched it to the magic cursing Yuri and Kei, revealing her as the author.” Again, a pause to let the poison sink in, and then another killing stroke. “Are you aware that she’s begun making threats, physical and magical, without provocation?”
“Certainly not! I’ve heard no such…”
“She has been assaulting CSA agents. Without any cause whatsoever. She was interrupted before doing any real damage, but the other agents who witnessed the attack will tell you how frightened they were. I have their names should you wish to interrogate them. Conner was the primary victim, and is ready to testify as to her nature. She’s turned, Canis, I’m sure of it.”
“But why would she stay here if she had?” Canis protested. “No ifrit who had turned would willingly show herself here. Surrounded by mages and the CSA establishment, she’d be risking instant banishment, or worse.”
“Because she doesn’t know that we’ve discovered her,” Scarabus explained, smoothly switching to the plural to imply a theory worked out together. “And because of the opportunity for superior targets.”
“Targets?” Canis asked warily.
“She’ll need power if she’s fully ascending, or even if she’s planning major magic like a permanent portal. She could get that power from anonymous humans, of course, but the payoff is a full order of magnitude greater if she desolates a mage, and yet another level if the target is someone she knows. Taking a high-level sorcerer would be the greatest prize of all. And, of course, the personal pleasure demons take from betraying those close to them. You know how often demi-ifrits attack friends and family when they turn.”
Canis nodded. Such targets were irresistible to newly transformed and eerily hungry demons. They fed directly off the psychic distress, even if they didn’t literally drain the person’s life force in a full-scale desolation.
“You can see the danger we’re in,” Scarabus continued. “I think it best to alert the CSA, but of course, it would be much better received if it came from you. I would also like a Council edict for extraordinary measures. I have agents in place who could stop her.”
“Then we should alert the Council to your suspicions immediately,” Canis said, seeing a way to avoid the problem by shifting responsibility. “They should know, and they’ll act…”
“No, no,” Scarabus shook his head. “You’ve seen the chaos in there. The utter collapse of authority in the face of a real challenge. Petain has lost control, and no has stepped into the void. They’d argue and yell for days before making a decision.”
“Then Raithe,” Canis named the Institute’s cabinet-level security chief, a notoriously deep and dangerous hunter against black magic.
Canis suppressed a grimace and kept his face neutral. “I find Raithe very difficult to deal with.”
“We should at least notify Zhukov.”
“Have you seen Zhukov?” Canis asked impatiently. “The man is completely overwhelmed. No, this is your area of specialty. I assumed you could handle it. At least give me that edict, so I can act on my own.”
Canis said nothing, sitting deep in thought, and Scarabus tried to hide his impatience and exasperation. If the man always moved this slowly, there was no surprise he was so disgustingly fat.
“I think it best if we acted immediately. There’s no telling when she’ll choose to attack again.”
Canis roused himself. To Scarabus’s dismay, the demonologist shook his head, desperately resurrecting his scientific principles.
“No, not yet. You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought, and I’ll admit you raise very troubling questions, but we are still short of facts. Your hypothesis could explain much, but it’s still just that – a hypothesis. And a very serious accusation at the same time, Councilor. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof, not conjecture. Certainly, I’ll ask Callista to see me immediately.”
Scarabus laughed. “She won’t come.”
“Which would be more evidence for you,” Canis admitted. “But she deserves a chance to hear these charges. And face her accuser. You can interview her with me.”
Scarabus looked uncomfortable. “I fear my presence would prejudice certain individuals as to the intent. It would be better if you pursued this alone.” His eyes glinted. “Unless you’re afraid to face her alone, of course.”
Canis bristled. Not only was he confident that Callista wasn’t responsible, but the implication that he was afraid was clearly meant as an insult.
“Of course not, Councilor.” He nodded an end to the discussion. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.
Scarabus hid his disappointment, the more easily because he had one more ace to play. He had hoped for secret authorization to keep his hand hidden as long as possible – there were many other members of Council sympathetic to Zauberersohn and Petain - but with the crisis imminent, he couldn’t afford to wait. He gestured, sending a magical signal and simultaneously playing that ace.
Chira swayed uncertainly, barely staving off the dizziness that marked utter exhaustion. The magic she had used to keep herself awake and alert had worn off again, and she hastily renewed the spell. She knew she couldn’t use the magic much longer - artificial stimulants always exacted their price, whether chemical or magical – but decided she needed to stay on the job just a few hours longer.
Of course, if she had to waste much more time dealing with idiots like Conner, collapsing might be a nice excuse to get away. She rubbed her head.
“For the last time, Agent Conner, you seem perfectly fine.”
Conner just sat there, agitated and unhappy.
“Are you sure? Can’t you just, you know, give me some kind of general antimagic in case someone cursed me?”
She stared at him.
“Cursed you? Do you have any symptoms or not?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and shook his head. Chira noticed he kept nervously adjusting his crotch as well.
Men! It was like it was some kind of security blanket for them.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that Conner’s security blanket was now about the same size as a cotton swab, and he was far too embarrassed to admit it. Callista had said the change was temporary – if you could trust the burz-kunta’s word, which he doubted. Still, if there was any chance of getting through this without anyone knowing about his intimate downsizing, he wanted to try it.
“Then please stop wasting my time,” Chira finally snapped. “I'm certainly not going to use broad-spectrum magic just in case you got cursed without knowing it.”
He still didn’t get up. He cleared his throat.
“Um, so tell me, Doc. Do you have any spells that, you know, can make guys a little bigger?” He nodded towards his groin.
She stared open-mouthed.
“Do you mean to tell me that’s what all this is about? You’re looking for male enhancement spells? For chrissakes!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Get out of here! They’re available everywhere, Agent.”
She referred to the nearly ubiquitous low-level magic available for sale, safely making men larger and longer-lasting. Of course, they were temporary, and designed to at most double penis length, which would have made Conner the proud owner of a skinny two-incher under his current circumstances.
“But, Doc…”
Any further pleading and scolding were interrupted by a woman rushing into the clinic, holding something in her hands.
“Size victim!” she called. “Over 75% reduction. And he’s hurt. Charge the triage table.”
She gingerly placed her cargo onto the table. Immediately, a glow sprang up around it, as the imbedded magic in the table worked automatically to stabilize injuries and relieve pain. Chira, as chief Healer present, came over to supervise. She stopped in shock at the sight of the doll-sized, naked man on the table, his body bruised and broken.
“Javert!” she exclaimed.
The investigator opened his eyes and moaned.
“Rest quietly, sir. We’ll do what we can to ease your injuries.”
He shook his head impatiently and tried to speak, his voice a cracking chirp.
“Albeon did it! Albeon! Demon bitch! She did it … she...”
He slipped back into unconsciousness.
Chira shook her head sadly. What a brave man. And what a contrast with the despicable Conner.
So, he had discovered their predator. She felt only slight surprise that it had turned out to be Callista – many of the mages and agents had been whispering it anyway. She also felt a surge of rage and some savage satisfaction at the realization that they had their culprit through the self-sacrifice of the noble Javert. Albeon would pay for her depredations, and quickly if she knew Zhukov. She gestured angrily into the air to initiate a communication portal. The Council needed to hear about this immediately.
Callista’s tears tore at Kei’s heart and turned her world upside down. The joy of mere hours before had become dust.
Kei had personally faced these tears a few times, but that didn’t help. Indeed, since they were Callista’s, they only stung more. Sometimes the crying came immediately afterwards, sometimes the next day, sometimes reproachful (“I had too much too drink. How could you?”) and sometimes apologetic (“It didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to experiment. I could never like you … that way.”), but they always meant the same thing: regret.
She sat silently a few seconds, automatically gauging the
time and her size. It was dark, probably
still before
She finally decided she had to let Callista know she was awake.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
Callista froze, and then turned slowly, her face lost in the shadows except for the glint of light from her wet cheeks.
“Oh, Kei. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll…I’ll leave.”
She started to pick up some clothing from the floor, but Kei stopped her.
“Wait a second, Cal. We need to talk.”
Callista dropped her head.
“Kei, I'm so sorry.”
Kei nodded, feeling empty inside. Yes, that was what she had expected. She drew her knees up and hugged them. She might as well try to make this easy for Callista.
“It was my fault,
Callista’s eyes went wide. To Kei’s surprise, she reached down and enveloped her in a loving embrace, Kei’s small body completely disappearing in her arms.
“Oh no, Kei! Not that! That was wonderful. You were wonderful. It was special, and wonderful, and everything I could have dreamed.” A smile broke through. “OK, well not exactly what I had dreamed. There tended to be a man at least somehow involved in my dreams before.”
Kei felt a glimmer of returning hope. She struggled enough that Callista loosed her grip, and Kei settled against her.
“Then what…?”
Callista shook her head. “Don’t you see? I'm the one who took advantage of you.”
“
Callista wiped her face, laughing.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Kei said a little sharply, feeling frustrated and tense. It was only her heart on the line here. She took a deep breath. “Talk to me, Cal.”
Callista took about a minute to speak. She held Kei’s tiny hand in hers and squeezed it tenderly.
“Everything was wonderful. Everything was perfect. Should have been perfect. But…it wasn’t. I woke about an hour ago, and … and I was happy. But I wasn’t.”
Kei felt that glimmer of hope extinguish again, but she tried to make a joke about it.
“Makes total sense so far.”
Callista took a deep breath.
“I was wrong. I’ve been lying to myself, and far worse, to you.”
That was clear. And sharp. And right to the heart. Kei tried to laugh anyway.
“OK, that part I get.”
Callista fell on her knees in front of Kei, and clasped her hands between hers.
“I wanted you, Kei. Desperately, longingly. I needed you. And you were there for me, just like I hoped you would be. And I'm glad we had tonight. And I do love you. But…” She took a long, deep breath. “I still love him.” She chanced one, hopeful glance into Kei’s eyes, before dropping her head in regret. “And I used you, because I couldn’t have him. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
Now it was Kei’s turn to take several long, deep breaths. She already knew what was coming.
“So, what we had…” she began.
Callista squeezed her hands more tightly.
“It was glorious, and wonderful, and perfect. I’ll treasure it, Kei. And I hope you will too. As a friend and a lover.”
Kei wasn’t even sure her heart was still beating. “But…” she prompted.
Callista nodded slowly. “But…” she echoed.
“But it will only be a memory, right?” Kei finished, glad the darkness hid her own wet eyes.
Callista nodded again.
“It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Maybe you should let me decide what’s fair for me!”
“For me, then. Or him. I keep remembering what I said to him – what I tried to do to him.” Her head dropped in shame, and Kei felt her hands twitch. Finally, her head came back up. “I need to go see him, Kei.”
Kei tried her best to keep her feelings hidden. She had known the risks when she accepted Callista’s proposal, and, frankly, from the time she had fallen in love.
The line was back.
She stroked Callista’s hair again, and was pleased when her friend leaned into it, sighing. She had half expected her to pull away. Callista’s hair almost felt warm and alive beneath her fingers, and Kei remembered the way it would stir when she was excited. She tried to memorize every strand.
“Don’t expect me to be all fucking noble about this or anything,” Kei warned her. “ I think I’m good for you.”
“You are. You were.”
“And I think we’d be fucking wonderful together.”
Callista sighed as Kei continued to stroke her hair.
“I think we are.”
“Damn it!” Kei snapped, pretending irritation. “Stop agreeing with me!”
“OK,” Callista agreed.
They both laughed at the unintentional irony, and both chuckles drifted off, weighted by regret. Kei at last released Callista’s hair.
“You know I was only using you for the sex, right?” she asked. “Hot, sweaty demon sex.”
“Absolutely,” Callista nodded in mock assent.
“Gregor doesn’t deserve you.”
“And I don’t deserve you.”
Kei put on a show of her usual irascibility.
“Damn it,
Callista laughed, and hugged her small friend again.
“I do love you. And never, ever like a sister. Not after tonight.” She sighed, feeling Kei’s hand on her breast. “But if you don’t stop touching my breast, like the naughty, little girl you are, then I’ll have to spank that perfect little bottom of yours, and then we’ll be right back where we started.”
Kei remained silent. Was that supposed to dissuade her?
Callista sighed once more and stood up.
And the spell, as it were, was broken, and the enchanted garden was no more.
The air next to Canis began to shimmer, indicating someone trying to contact him magically. He gestured to complete the connection, and they saw Zhukov and Petain, as clearly as if the two were really standing next to them. Zhukov looked as though he were having difficulty in controlling his emotions, while Petain simply looked stunned.
“Marcus,” Petain began, addressing Canis. Her eyes went wide when she saw Scarabus standing next to him, and she inclined her head to him before continuing. “Councilor. We have grim and vital new information. Please come to my office immediately.”
The connection disappeared, and both Canis and Scarabus hurried to Petain’s room next to the Council chamber. They found her, Zhukov, and a few other senior councilors deep in conversation, and there were two CSA guards standing alertly nearby, but even more astounding was the last person in the room: a doll-sized woman standing in the middle of the desk, ringed by the gesticulating and murmuring councilors. She was dressed in a scarf, wrapped around her sarong-style, and appeared otherwise naked, and yet she stood with as much dignity and control as the other two guards. Canis gasped when he recognized her.
“Xena!” he exclaimed. “Thank God! What happened? Where have you been?”
He was surprised by her small size, of course, but that was hardly astonishing under the current circumstances of size chaos. While he was eager to learn of her ordeal, far more important loomed the information about who had done it, since everyone assumed she knew the fiend responsible for attacking Carol Anne Geist.
Petain and Zhukov turned to face him, their faces solemn.
“Her full report must wait until later. Agent Xena, are you sure about this?”
Xena drew herself up even more rigidly. She almost seemed to be compensating for something, as though some powerful distraction or compulsion tugged at her attention. Even more strangely, however, Canis noticed that her eyes kept darting down towards the men’s crotches, and she almost bit her lip to maintain her control. But maintain it she did, successfully fighting (or at least postponing) her new and very powerful addiction, courtesy of Richard’s tainted candy.
“Absolutely, Madame President. I recognized her immediately, and she made no secret about her identity. I think she enjoyed taunting me with it.”
“Who?” Canis asked, already guessing the worst.
“Callista Albeon, sir.”
Canis stumbled, as if physically broken. Although still desperate to rouse some last hope, he decided it was his duty to recount Scarabus’ accusations as well. And just as Scarabus had hoped, the allegations and half-logic sounded even more convincing coming from one of Callista’s supporters.
When Canis finished, there was an answering murmur of anger and satisfied nodding. At least one Councilor could be heard repeating “I told you. I knew it.”
Petain sighed unhappily, hardly believing the news but unable to avoid acting on it. She turned to Zhukov.
“Where is Ms. Albeon, Commander?”
Zhukov frowned. He hated admitting limitations or failures.
“Her chaotic aura makes it difficult for my Watchers to locate her. She is … somewhere on the Institute grounds.”
Several Councilors snorted. There were murmurs of “Useless!” “Part of her plan” and knowing nods. One turned to another.
“I told you we should have tagged her,” he said, talking about Callista as though she were a dangerous animal on their game preserve. “We’ve been fools.”
“If you would authorize active scrying, Madame President, I'm sure we could find her,” Zhukov suggested, meaning a release for the Watchers to use potent magic allowing access inside homes or even people’s minds.
Petain hesitated. This would represent an unprecedented invasion of privacy.
A priority viewing portal opened. Chira’s grim face appeared, demanding to speak with Petain. The Council President indicated the others in the room, and Chira nodded.
“It may be best they all see this. Special Agent Javert has just been brought in.”
The viewing pane shifted, and several Councilors gasped to see the tiny, doll-sized figure almost lost in the infirmary bed.
“Another demon attack?” Petain asked, assuming the same havoc they had witnessed worldwide.
Chira hesitated. “Yes and no, Madame President. Agent Javert identified his attacker.”
The name, when spoken, all but echoed in the otherwise grim chamber. There was less of a vocal reaction this time, the Councilors simply nodding grimly to each other. Canis actually sat down as though physically broken.
“Thank you, Chira,” Petain said, her voice shaky. “Your information is much appreciated.”
She signed off and sat in stunned silence for several long seconds.
“Madame President?” Zhukov asked, breaking the silence, his tone implying far more than the words.
She nodded unhappily. “Of course. You have full Council warrant and special authority. You may use any force necessary, and have permission for invasive scrying.” A pause, and then even more grimly. “Any measures, Commander. Find her.”
He bowed, and then saluted Xena before leaving. He used his teleportation belt to jump to the CSA building, briefly saluted the agent on duty there, and then started briskly to the command center.
His mind was awhirl. On the one hand, they finally had their ravager’s identity, and more importantly, a target. He knew how to hunt and stop demons once he had their scent. Even now, they might be in time to save Sorcerer Geist. He knew he couldn’t allow his agents to kill Callista for that reason, but other than that, he wanted to make sure they knew they had a free hand. He hoped they would use it before actually bringing her in.
On the other hand…well, he hated to admit it, but his instincts had been wrong. He had been against Callista’s being admitted to the Institute in the first place, and had been openly suspicious and hostile to her even afterwards. Until, that is, he had come to know her, and seen her risk herself to save others – something no demon would have done. Although he still felt uncomfortable around her (years of deadly personal warfare against demons prevented anything else), he had come to accept Canis’ judgment that her humanity was dominant.
He hated being wrong, and the discrepancy of facts with his judgment left him slightly uneasy. He tried to take satisfaction in the remarkable success of yet another cursed agent. First Yuri, and now Xena, triumphing despite such devastating magic directed against them. Xena’s escape was particularly remarkable. Callista’s male ally must have been very careless or very stupid to let her get away like that.
He slowed in mid stride, his inner judgment again warring against the inspirational and tidy way the evidence was coming together, and then shook it off. They simply owed the apparent good fortune to the bravery and resourcefulness of his agents.
Thinking of Xena reminded him of her unfortunate partner, Gabrielle. Immediately after hearing Xena’s story, he had asked for volunteers to search the Wilds underneath the dungeon. It would have been dangerous under any circumstances, but with the agents exhausted, and with so few available, and without magical support to top it off (the support mages were all consumed by damage control from the epidemic of size changing out in the world), he doubted any would return unharmed.
Needless to say, every available agent had volunteered.
He resumed his walk back to the command center, prouder than ever for his team. He even maintained some slight hope that they might find Gabrielle.
Back in Petain’s office, the Councilors were discussing what action to take.
“She should be banished immediately,” one said, invoking several answering nods.
Petain raised her hand.
“Banishment as punishment is actually problematic in this case,” she said, referring to the practice of sending demons back permanently to their native world by obliterating their physical bodies, preventing their return. “She is not from Daemon. She is earth-born and half human.”
“Nonsense! Could her demonic nature be any more obvious after this?”
“And she forfeited her humanity when she went to Daemon,” another pointed out.
Petain felt compelled to point out that her visit had been to save the Institute – and the very Councilors demanding her virtual execution - from the regression curse.
“So we assumed. Obviously, in retrospect, that was simply to disguise the real motive for her visit.”
“Banishment on sight!”
Canis tried to rally his demolished hopes.
“No, no. She must be allowed to speak. To explain…”
“Explain?” the other spat in disgust. “Perhaps you’d like her to apologize to Geist’s corpse as well. I'm sure that will make her feel better.”
To Canis’ surprise, Scarabus actually intervened.
“Councilors, be reasonable. Even criminals and traitors have rights. And one of those is to face the Council before sentence is cast. Furthermore, we should demand to know her allies in this matter.” He shook his head sadly. “I suspect there may even be some in the CSA, or the Council itself.”
Quiet assent.
“While we wait for Zhukov to find her, we should do what we can. Might I suggest that we at least alert some of her potential victims? If my suspicions are correct, she’ll target someone close to her, someone she’s connected to. And while any such attempts would certainly confirm my theory, I’d hate to feel responsible for such a tragic way of being proved correct. We should alert her male acquaintances most particularly. After all, she’ll almost certainly use sexual predation. Male and female energies are synergistic, and she’d be able to disguise the attack until the last moment. Sex can leave even the most adept sorcerers helpless.” He chuckled. “Not that we’re likely to just walk in on her when she’s seducing someone.”
Canis had frozen, and now turned very pale. Scarabus feigned concern. “What is it, Councilor?”
Canis looked very uncomfortable, and very worried. “I, um, well as a matter of fact, I interrupted her earlier today when … well, it did seem a little unusual. I assumed I must be misreading her intentions.”
Scarabus looked equally concerned. “Not with Zauberersohn, surely? I had assumed he’d be her target.”
“No,” Canis admitted, but didn’t look any less
worried. “It was with Bob…er,
“A very close connection to her indeed, then,” Scarabus murmured, looking solemn at the implication. “I suspect that only your unexpected intervention saved him. And us.” Another pause. “But if you managed to stop her there, and she was forced to choose another target, desperation might drive her to…”
Canis nodded. “We should at least apprise him of the possibility. If nothing else, he can find out what’s really happening.”
“I hesitate to mention it,” Scarabus said as though suddenly putting another piece in place. “But Zauberersohn wasn’t in the Council chambers. I looked for him in the hope that we could put personal differences aside for the good of the Institute.”
Petain had heard enough and walked out of the office to the front hall, stopping in front of an ornate mirror. “Council priority,” she barked into the glass, as the other councilors followed.
Almost immediately, her reflection became slightly distorted and misty, and then became alive in its own right. “At your service,” the deep voice answered from the glass, using Petain’s reflection for his own face.
“Find Councilor Zauberersohn.”
The reflection shimmered, and Petain, or at least her imperfect reflection, frowned.
“I cannot locate sorcerer Zauberersohn. He is not in any of the Council or Institute buildings.”
“Emergency clearance. You have leave to check his home on my authority as Council president. Councilor Scarabus as senior Councilor present will confirm the mandate.”
The mirror’s image looked past Petain to note Scarabus, who had come into the hall and now nodded. Interestingly, the reflection cocked an eyebrow skeptically at his presence, but then shimmered as it concentrated.
“He is not in his primary residence,” the mirror announced, the face coming in and out of focus as it strained to stretch its senses. “And his home on the Institute grounds…” The face all but disappeared, swirling in and out of the frame so rapidly that it looked as though the glass itself was liquid. Finally it solidified, looking dismayed. “I regret to inform you that the ether-continuum there has been disrupted.”
“And the mirror cracked,” Scarabus murmured, as though quoting.
Petain and Canis barely breathed. It took a lot of energy to break a magic mirror, usually through very violent or uncontrolled bursts, or else very deliberate sabotage. The mirror demon seemed to anticipate him.
“The disruption appears violent, most likely a magical overload. The ether has been crystallized.” It hesitated. “I might be able to retrieve the last reflection.”
Canis nodded. A ghost image, the last reflection that had been caught in the mirror’s magic. The portal glass was so sensitive to magic that traces always remained from any magic used in its vicinity.
Petain’s reflection disappeared, the mirror swirling into formless mist. Slowly, the mists congealed and separated, finally forming a distorted face. A woman’s face, leering into the mirror, her lips parted in a sardonic laugh.
“God, no,” Canis whispered.
But as the expression goes, the mirror doesn’t lie. Even distorted and cracked, there could be no doubt that the face was Callista’s.
Absynthe flew quickly along the dungeon corridor, hugging the wall and shadows for protection, and painfully wary for danger. These deepest, oldest catacombs were extremely perilous, even to a creature as quick and powerful as a fairy, and more than once she had to dart away from some living shadow or snarling horror, saved only by her supernatural speed and extrasensory perception. Her natural bioluminescence worked against her, for it served to attract predators and made her a constant target. Nothing could have kept her searching so long except for her desire to rescue Karrrenndalisa and seal her bargain with the Robertrodes.
Unfortunately, the chance to do that seemed increasingly remote. The creatures down here were simply too savage and deadly. Even the terrestrial ones, twisted and enhanced by generations of exposure to the magic that seeped between dimensions, had changed into literal nightmares.
As if to prove the point, some kind of flying serpent took that moment to target her, swooping from its upside-down perch on the ceiling with a chilling shriek. Its ancestors might have been reptilian or mammalian – it had a snake’s body, but with two legs which extended from its upper body and were tipped with razor-sharp nails for catching prey. Its head was triangular, consisting mostly of a jaw which opened impossibly wide as though unhinged and ringed by concentric needles for teeth. It was blind, and based on prominent ears, seemed to navigate by radar, making it perfectly adapted to the near total darkness. The wings were membranous and large, providing great force and speed, and sending it on a blurring intercept with the apparently helpless fairy.
Only apparently helpless, however. As noted, the Viridians’ small size and diaphanous female form belied an unexpected strength, bravery, and aggressive nature. There was a reason the Green Fairies were the only one of the fairy races to maintain a permanent residence in our hostile world.
With impossible speed, she actually darted towards the creature at the last moment, closing and using her momentum to spin it off course and send it crashing into the wall. A split second later, she blasted it with small, green bursts of magical flame, and was already flying away before it could recover. She left it flapping angrily but uselessly against the rough stone wall.
She zipped down the corridor, confident in her speed but still eager to put distance from her attacker. Once again she felt a wave of anxiety about her mission and the increasingly small chance for fulfilling it. Even a Viridian was hard pressed to survive down here. There was no way a human …
She stopped short, unable to believe her eyes. A nearly naked woman, only five inches in height, stood atop a dead basilisk three times her size. She wore a wraith-rat skull as a helmet, and had a hide wrapped around her arm for a shield. She was panting, dirty and wounded, but somehow radiated confidence that transformed her appearance. She had clearly just dispatched the creature, and was retrieving her makeshift blade, fashioned from the double-edged fang of some other subterranean horror, from its heart.
Gabrielle looked up as Absynthe appeared, instantly ready and wary, but obviously relieved to find only a fairy invading her domain. When Absynthe simply hovered a few feet away and stared, she cleaned her blade, then unwrapped the hide from her arm and arranged it in a ragged tunic over her upper body.
“Show’s over, Viridian.”
Absynthe gasped.
“You … you are hu-man?” she asked in disbelief.
“I think I still qualify, yeah.”
“But you …” Absynthe’s mind was racing. “You...”
“First conversation in two days, this is what I get,” Gabrielle laughed. “Don’t suppose I can offer you a basilisk fang to show me the way out of here? Or are you lost, too?” She knew the Viridians had no use for humans except as mates – indeed, they were considered dangerous by the CSA and treated accordingly - and she held little hope of gaining real help.
Absynthe simply stared in awe. This human woman had killed a basilisk, and who knew what else, in hand to hand combat, something no fairy could have done without magic. And she was only five inches tall - even smaller than a Green Fairy! She was … beautiful. Clearly as much one of “we-the-beautiful-us” as any Viridian, but a true warrior as well. Despite her grime, wounds, and ragged, makeshift armor, Absynthe saw her as truly gorgeous.
No wonder the Robertrodes loved her.
She shook her head, stubbornly scattering that awe. The Robertrodes might love this human woman, but he would still be bound by his word when Absynthe rescued her.
“You are Karrrenndalisa?” she asked, intimidated but determined.
“What?” Gabrielle asked. She didn’t know the fairy languages, and had no idea what a ‘karendalisa’ was.
“The Karrrenndalisa. Robertrodes’s Karrrenndalisa.”
“Robertrodes?” Gabrielle echoed. That didn’t sound Viridian – more like a name, and a familiar one at that. Why did that name strike a chord? She remembered something in the last briefing, a report she had dismissed after the news about Carol Anne Geist’s desolation had shocked them. “Oh! Robert Rhodes? The shrinking guy?”
“Yes!” Absynthe glowed brightly, illuminating the dungeon and making Gabrielle shield her dark-adapted eyes. “The Robertrodes! You are his Karrrenndalisa, yes?”
“Well, I don’t know that I'm his anything,” Gabrielle replied cautiously, still not knowing what the heck a karendalisa was. “I mean, I don’t even know …”
Absynthe was getting impatient.
“You are Karrrenndalisa, yes? I rescue you, no?”
Gabrielle stopped short.
“Rescue?”
Absynthe floated down to her level. Gabrie