'Tween a Devil and His Hard Place

Emo and I moved off the bottom step cautiously, our senses on high alert, and finally opened our eyes. The room was dimly lit and smelled of age and evil things. My heart was doing a rumba under my ribs, apparently voicing its opinion on the situation my mouth and brain had gotten it into. And Emo was wearing his discomfort like an additional layer to his aura.

However, the would be demon king lounged at the center of the cavernous space in complete ease. Sprawled really, in a large, gawdy looking throne chair that only a pretender to royalty would think was royal-like. He seemed completely unconcerned by our presence.

Either he wasn’t nearly as cautious of us as we were of him or he was pretty sure his disgusting, slathering minions, in the form of both demon and gargoyle, which were spread around the room, could take care of us before we put any holes or burn marks in his not so fair skin.

“Mx. Phelps. At last we meet. I’ve heard many things about you.”

Which of course begged the question, what things had he heard? I moved forward on reluctant legs with a carefully crafted bad ass look on my face. My attempt at bravado may or may not have had any effect on Alcott. Like his deceased brother his monochromatic features were naturally and unavoidably expressionless. His skin color of choice, however, was the shadow version of Abrine’s. He was solid black to his dead brother’s unchanging white.

The yin and yang of nightmares.

“My partner and I are here as representatives for King Dialle the First.”

The demon king sat up a bit straighter at that pronouncement and his featureless, black face tilted as if in question. I remembered the same gesture from his brother. When one didn’t have visible facial expressions apparently one had to use body language to show surprise.

I waited, knowing what would come next.

“You dare come to me as Dialle’s representative.” His face may not have shown any emotion but his voice sure did. “I asked for a neutral party to carry my message. How did you get past the Guard of Dis?”

Knowing I couldn’t really get away with lying, I decided to see how some tweener attitude might work. I merely shrugged my shoulders and tried to look bored. “I really don’t know, Alcott. Perhaps you should take it up with him…it. For now, we have business to discuss. I assure you I will carry your message to King Dialle the First just as you present it to me.”

I stopped talking and waited. My motto is, in this type of negotiation, he who talks first loses. I held my breath and watched. I had just stomped on the exposed baby toe of arguably the second most powerful being in the Dark World. Not a smart thing to do if you are really only a lowly Tweener, illusions of grandeur aside.

I knew I was running the risk of seriously pissing off the bogy man. But I’d had no choice. The only thing demons respect and understand is strength, which in their world is thoroughly mixed up with pure obnoxiousness. Any attempts at discussion or the application of fairness to an issue are construed as weakness.

Alcott’s featureless countenance faced me for a long moment and I held my breath. I hoped my bad ass expression was still firmly in place. My mental drawers shifted and Emo was in, but there was just heavy breathing. Apparently he was just in for support and had nothing to say.

I couldn’t resist, Demon got your tongue, partner?

Very funny Astra. We are a razor sharp demon hair away from becoming gargoyle kibble. I’d appreciate it if you’d pay attention to your work.

I thought a rigid salute at him and said, Yesir!

Alcott chose that second, when I wasn’t exactly paying attention of course, to signal the attack. Emo’s heavy breathing in my mind turned into a mumbled narrative as the first wave of gargoyles and their demon handlers turned toward us. Even as he reached for the set of long knives he kept strapped to his thighs Emo’s mind was on chastising me rather than the work ahead.

You just had to slap at the bad guy and piss him off didn’t you, boss? You can’t just do what you came in here to do and leave can you? Oh no, you want to fight the stinking nasty gargoyles because, in your feeble little mind you think it’s fun don’t you?

I was too busy taking a battle stance and readying my weapons to respond, but trust me, he would get a formerly pointed earful when we were back at the office. Assuming of course that we ever made it back to the office.

“The one on the left is mine.” I told him in a low murmur, even as I turned to look at the demon on the right and his eight foot long, drooling charge on the straining end of a steel chain.

Emo blew out a nervous breath and turned toward the one on the left. “Have I told you I hate gargoyles, Astra?”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “I think you might have.”
Then all hell broke loose and we found it difficult to talk for a while.

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