WALKS AMONG THEE
almost a fairy tale
by Kay Willow
THE TALE OF THE CHANGELING CHILD
Once upon a time, a child was born to a happy and loving young couple. This child seemed to be blessed by the One God: he was gentle in his expressions and mild in his moods, quick to smile at a charmed adult and showing signs of great magical promise. Everyone agreed that when he grew up, this tiny boy would be just as delightful as his older brother.
Perhaps this child sounds familiar.
But there was another couple, neither happy nor loving. This husband and this wife were not exceptionally fond of each other, and the oracles said that their marriage was destined to be childless, and they had discovered that their greatest happiness together came from the suffering of others. So when this second couple learned of the first couple, and their happiness and their love and their three happy and loving sons, the unhappy couple's natural reaction was to want to destroy them.
They kidnapped the newborn child.
The child was raised in a household devoid of affection, where the only attention he received was negative. He was taught values and behaviors that went against all his innately generous nature: sacrifice others to get what you want, trample everyone in your path, never forget a grudge, power is worth the price of heart and soul.
Yet in spite of this harsh environment, the child grew to be a sophisticated and merciful young man. The kind of person who would have made his true parents proud.
Naturally, this displeased his foster parents. They did all that they could to crush his spirit. They refused to allow him any friends, sent him to a school where he would be mocked and isolated because of his kindness, and criticized him for every friendly word. But still, despite their efforts, the child's soul remained both strong and pure.
Frustrated, the unhappy couple realized that perhaps their unwilling son would never lose the wholesomeness that seemed to be ingrained upon his soul. Even as his sole influence, their corruption could only touch him on the surface.
And so eventually, the unhappy couple gave up. What did it matter, anyway?
Their plans for the boy could only be improved by his innocence...
CHAPTER 4
"Master. That girl is looking at you again."
Erts closed his eyes, counted to five slowly, and then turned the page of his book. "Yes, Imp. I know."
"She is watching you with her dark eyes, Master." Tiny claws scrabbled at the heavy cloth covering his shoulders as Imp clambered to a better viewpoint. A thin leathered tail wound nimbly around Erts' neck.
"I know, Imp."
"She is moving, Master." The tip of the tail twitched, tapping Erts' cheek softly. "She's coming here, Master."
"I can see her, Imp." She was smiling and waving at him. In school-issued thick black robes tailored specifically to flow and billow, she was hard to miss.
Imp suggested hopefully, "I could kill her for you, Master."
"No, Imp," Erts replied evenly, standing up and brushing off his own robes. "We're not going to kill Rome."
It was a beautiful morning in the city of Geheim. But it usually was, because the climate of Geheim was controlled by the Higher Council of Magic, and the Count of Geheim used his sorcery to enforce this artificial weather.
That was the standard there. Geheim was a city where everything was carefully crafted and molded into the "correct" form. Nothing was natural there -- not even, nine times out of ten, the people who lived within its walls.
"Hello, Rome," he greeted warmly.
"Have you heard about what happened to Yoshino?" she asked immediately, eyes wide in concern. Erts waved at his shoulder meaningfully, and after a bewildered pause, she added, "Oh. Good morning, Imp."
The little demon hissed, unhappy, and Erts was briefly glad that such minor demons could not be seen or heard by anyone other than the one who had bound it. She probably was expecting him to relay Imp's response, so instead he prompted, "Wasn't he visiting his sister?"
"Yes, in Basik." Attention successfully diverted, Rome's expression softened in sobriety. "There was an accident while he was there. Una told me that he was hit by a car."
"He was what?" The concept was positively surreal. Imp snickered into his ear.
"I know. It's so terribly unlikely, but... well, there it is." She shrugged, helpless. "He was in a clinic in Basik until yesterday, when Dean Reichmann went there and brought him back home. Una said he'll be back in class today."
Imp tugged on the collar of Erts' robes. "Yoshino is that boy, right?" Everyone was 'that boy' or 'that girl' to Imp. "I did not like him, Master. This pleases me."
Erts ignored him. "That's horrible... But he's back in school, so he can't be that badly hurt, right?"
Rome nodded. "The healers in Basik are supposed to be among the best in the world. Una said that he's still got an arm in a sling, but he's otherwise hale and whole."
"Una said Una said Una said," Imp muttered darkly. "Why does Una know so much? I should kill her."
Explaining Una's death-defying, worshipful crush on Yoshino would be utterly futile. Imp was not and had never been human -- it was a spirit-demon created of condensed darkness. Suspicion, hatred, scorn were its lifeblood; trouble and misery and pain its air. Something like love -- even something like puppy love -- could not be taught to it by a mere human.
Noticing Erts' sudden weariness, and rightly guessing its cause, Rome shook her head. "Why do you bring him to class with you? It's not allowed, and seems inconvenient."
"It is inconvenient, but can you imagine what might happen if I left it on its own?" he asked, ignoring Imp's renewed snarling. But she couldn't imagine, couldn't even comprehend the creature as having no gender, so he added, "The death toll would number in the dozens. Besides, you know that the rule is only there to keep people from making trouble, and we all know that I'm not exactly going to be wreaking havoc."
He smiled at her reassuringly as the bell rang and all the myriad students of Astutia Academy began the trek inside. "You have Traditional Witchcraft first, right?"
"Yes," Rome confirmed, rolling her eyes as she fell into step beside him. "With Professor Garland."
"I have Logic in Magic..."
"You poor thing! Such a class so early!"
"That's not the worst part," he laughed. "I have it with Aracd and Force."
"How do you ever get anything done?"
"We don't!"
They came to a halt outside of the entranceway, letting the crowd flow around them and leave them behind, untouched. Their classes were in opposite directions. Rome looked to the ground shyly and brushed a strand of hair that had come loose fro her braid back behind her ear. Erts sighed inwardly and wished, not for the first time, that things hadn't come to this point between them. She was his only real friend -- but that was all she was.
"I suppose I'll see you in Practical Theurgy, then," she began.
Erts frowned. "Rome, I really think you should drop Theurgy."
"No," she said stubbornly.
"Rome! You are failing that course, and miserably," he reminded her. "Professor Perry said that you have almost no chance at passing; it's just bringing down your average--"
"I know I'll summon something this week," she insisted. "I'm really close."
He couldn't help pitying her. It had been months since their class had been assigned their first attempt at summoning, and Rome had then and had since been completely unsuccessful. By now the rest of the class had moved from spirit-demons to elemental and animal forms, and next semester would progress to the true demons; yet Rome couldn't even make the magical circle function correctly, much less summon up an actual demon.
The only reason she remained in the class, despite her lack of aptitude for the subject, was because it was Erts' main area of concentration -- and the only class they shared together.
But it was different for him. He had a natural flare for it (only appropriate, considering that it was a Cocteau family specialty) and had summoned his first demon at the age of ten. By thirteen, he had bound Imp to him by contract, and in truth, the Practical Theurgy class was practically remedial for him.
He shook his head and said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Rome asked hesitantly, "Why don't we meet after Theurgy? We can eat lunch together."
Erts sighed. "I'm sorry, Rome. You know that I have to return home for lunch. My parents will have a fit if I eat at school."
"But I don't understand why," she pressed, ignoring the second bell as it rang and marked them both late for class. "You barely have enough time to get across the city and back, much less to eat, during the lunch break! Why do they make it so difficult for you?"
"Because eating here would allow me to have real friends," he said wryly. "I'm really sorry, Rome -- I have to get to Logic in Magic." He fled before she could ask him for more.
Professor Indalecio wasn't present yet when Erts edged into the classroom. He assumed his seat as quietly as he could, but the subtlety was pointless, because the entire room was drowned in noise and motion. Imp flattened itself against the back of his head and hissed in nervousness.
He could make out Aracd somewhere in the midst of it, and Kyoko on the other side of the room shouting at all the students to ignore her hated adversary and listen to the class president. That didn't have much effect: Bellarcha, the class president, was sitting in a corner reading a book and ignoring everyone.
Carres was sitting in her seat, looking pale and muted. She was alone.
That was rather alarming. Usually, Carres was the queen of the social scene, and had nearly as much of a crowd as Aracd did. And she was always -- without fail -- accompanied by her boyfriend Force.
"Where is Force?" he murmured under his breath.
"I do not know, Master. If I go to look, may I kill him?"
"That was a rhetorical question, Imp."
Then, misfortune of misfortunes, Aracd spotted him.
"Yo! Erts!"
It wasn't that Aracd wasn't likable, Erts told himself at least twice a day, once during Logic in Magic and again during Theurgy. It was that Aracd was the epitome of the very falseness that Geheim so often fostered, and that Erts hated so much. Aracd pretended to be friendly and playful and forgiving, but it was only a pretense. The moment one's back was turned, he would leap at the opportunity to stab it and take one's place. All his good cheer was a mask, hiding maliciousness and predatory intent.
Erts hated the feeling of being hunted. If he wanted to be paranoid, he's start listening to Imp.
Now if only he didn't attend the wing of Astutia Academy that dealt with the black magics and dark arts...
"Hello," he said neutrally, thinking, Maybe if I'm boring enough, he'll go away.>
"You heard the latest?"
"Yes."
"No you haven't," Aracd disagreed amiably, sliding into the seat behind him. "Not Yoshino. Force. You hear about Force?"
He could say yes again and make Aracd leave, but on the other hand, Aracd seemed to be borderline psychic in his ability to know where he had opportunity to plague him. And he did want to know, so he shook his head mutely and waited for the uncontrolled outpouring of information.
"Well, he was in the basement of his place, and you know his family's old magick, like yours. He finds this book, called Rituals of Assuming and Honoring the Greater Spirit or something--"
Erts knew the book well. It was in his family's library, as well, and he'd had the whole thing memorized by the time he turned fifteen.
"--and in the back there's this section on how to summon the prince of Hell," Aracd added with audible delight.
It seemed to Erts that everything stopped at those words. "The prince..." he echoed weakly. Imp whimpered.
"Yep. Prince of Hell. They call him Dragonchild, because legend says that his natural full-blown demon form is a huge nasty dragon, but of course we don't get dragons here in the mortal world, so he takes on this half-form." Aracd settled back comfortably in his chosen seat. "I've seen pictures. All big leather wings, and big pointed ears, and claws and fangs... Fucking gorgeous. You can feel his power burning right through the scrolls."
Another unnerving thing about Aracd was his ambition; power, and the promise of personal power, was the only thing he found attractive. That sort of mercenary attitude was extremely off-putting for Erts, although he dared not show it -- and although he didn't entirely disagree.
"So. Force decides to summon the Dragonchild." Aracd paused dramatically.
Imp was nearly incoherent with horror at the very concept of one of the random humans its master associated with attempting to call upon one of the most feared demons who had ever lived. It clutched Erts' robes with all the might in its tiny little claws, and buried its face in his hair. Erts himself waited with a tense expectation, as if waiting for Aracd to say...
"And the Dragonchild ate him."
There was a long moment, following that, of sheer, stunned silence. "Force was... eaten by a demon prince?" Erts forced himself to ask, mildly.
"Yeah, that's what his parents told Carres."
Imp exploded into the most hideous cackling laughter Erts had ever heard in his life.
Aracd was shaking his head. "Pathetic, huh? It isn't like we haven't been told a thousand times that the greater summons aren't to be attempted unless you're fucking sure you can do everything right."
"Well... what did he do wrong?" Almost immediately, Erts realized that this had been a strange thing to say; Aracd gave him a curious look, as if to say 'How could it not have been wrong?', and he tried his best to look like he was asking merely in professional curiosity. The truth was something he couldn't afford for anyone to know.
In the end, the upperclassman obliged him. "They say that he drew the circle correctly and the power flow worked, but he was an asshole and decided to hold back in the exchange. The prince decided that he wasn't getting enough power to accurately balance the favor he was doing by deigning to acknowledge the call. With the breach of contract established, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, and he ate Force. I say good riddance..."
At that moment, the door flung open and Professor Indalecio stormed in, furious and shouting at the students to sit down before he rearranged their collective molecular structures into something far less prone to screwing around.
The next time Erts left his concentration mode and started actually thinking for himself, it was Theurgy, and something out of the ordinary had happened.
The woman who stood in place of their usual Theurgy professor was both unexpected and out of place. She wore a simple dress of black with a large white collar, and she looked serene, patient, and understanding. Astutia Academy had professors like that, true -- but not teaching this branch of sorcery. In this branch of sorcery, any moment of softness or mercy was liable to get you a one-way ticket to Hell in the grip of the demon you'd thought you were being easy on.
"Who is that?" Rome asked him immediately upon her arrival, staring wide-eyed and confused. "What happened to Professor Perry? He isn't sick, is he?"
"He didn't say anything," Erts confirmed. In a college of magecraft, where scrying the future was an activity that students did daily to find out whether they should bring rain coverings or not, it was a simple matter for a teacher to know if he was going to be sick the next day so he could cancel the class in advance.
Therefore...
"I am Katri Kanopolous," she introduced herself when the students were settled. "A special guest speaker come from the renowned Violetta's Finishing Academy to speak to you on summoning theory."
Oh, I get it. It's because of Force.> He wondered, disinterestedly, if Rome had heard about it yet.
It wasn't until the demon melted out of the wall behind their guest speaker that Erts suspected that perhaps this warning lesson was more important than he had initially assumed.
"Katri Kanopolous? Not the same Katri Kanopolous who married Charon..."
Erts shrugged out of his ceremonial outer robe. It clunked to the floor, weighted down by the spellcast-lead sewn into the hem. "I'm pretty sure there's only one Katri Kanopolous," he said wryly. "The fact that she has an extremely powerful demon husband would support the theory that she is the same Katri Kanopolous who married the Gatekeeper of Hell, wouldn't you say?"
The sound of powerful tail meeting heavy wood desk was accompanied by a sickening crack. "Greater men than you have died for addressing a demon prince so disrespectfully," Zero intoned darkly.
Being a theurgist tended to dull one's receptivity to threats (not to mention normal human survival instincts) rather quickly. Ignoring that comment with the ease of long practice, Erts stepped closer to examine the desk. "Look at this," he mourned. "You've cracked it. Must I remind you how valuable all the artifacts in this room are? Again?"
Zero hunkered down and ran clawed fingers over the scarred surface. "Do your crackpot parents really think this is impressing anyone?" he asked doubtfully.
Erts shook his head and said nothing. They did, as a matter of fact -- they insisted that the wealth would make their summoned demons think of them as wiser and superior than poorer sorcerers. Erts had always privately believed that if anything, it was the opposite. Anyone with the money to buy the correct supplies could summon a demon; the only people who needed ingenuity to summon were those without substantial income.
"All these stupid rituals," Zero continued. He leapt off the table and rocketed across the room on carefully-controlled wings. He grabbed onto a wall fixture and hung there, dangling. "Like this channel. What sort of spell would you be casting to require an iron channeling rod? Only a spell affecting weather, like storm-calling. And every idiot knows that you do that outside."
With no small amount of amusement, Erts watched him swing distractedly. It never failed to hold his attention, how very odd a creature Zero was. His narrowly-pointed face was nearly drowned by a mane of unruly black hair -- once, in a fit of boredom, he had asked Erts to brush it; the strands were stiff and coarse, more like hemp than anything else -- and his gray skin and gray eyes gave him an oddly monochromatic appearance, like a monster lost in cement or conjured directly from a pencil sketch.
Yet everything about him was alive. He was always moving, always talking, always thinking.
"As a matter of fact," the demon observed shrewdly, dropping suddenly to the floor, "the possession of such a rod might even be considered illegal. Climate control is restricted to Council members according to Converan City Provision 68 Section D. There might be trouble if word of this gets out, you know."
Ah,> Erts thought, barely hiding his delight. He's moving fast this evening.> Unhurriedly, Erts moved into the center of the hexagram that he had lain for the summoning. The simple sandals and drawstring pants he wore now that he had shed the ceremonial robes did not smudge the delicate design. Very picture of glowing confidence, he countered, "It's not functional. Master Liuh of the Third Seat tried to buy it from Hiram a while back, to repair it, but Dora wouldn't part with it. She thinks it adds atmosphere."
Zero harrumphed. "I think a slumbering snake god would be much better at casting this whole basement into despair than a gothic outcropping," he volunteered, and wandered away. "What about this?" He kicked the ceremonial robe. The fabric caught on one long, curving talon. "What possible purpose could this have, as opposed to normal and more functional clothes?"
"The metal," Erts admitted. "There's metal in the hems, with magical enhancements. They lend to the mage's aura and he can borrow their power to perform the summoning without exhausting his own energies. It's generally considered a requirement, because they make him feel stronger than he really is, so that the summoned demon thinks twice before trying to attack him."
"You think a few strips of lead are going to keep you safe from me?" Zero bared his fangs.
"Certainly not, O Eminent One," Erts answered, inserting just the right amount of good humor into his voice. He liked to think that he knew Zero well enough to know exactly where his limits were. "But it's part of the tradition, and I wouldn't want to insult you by slighting the honorifics."
A quick bark of laughter was his response. "You play the supplicant real well, but I don't buy that respectful crap for a minute." Zero assured him. "So, where were we? I believe you were telling me about Kanopolous?"
"Have you met her?"
"Sure, sure. Smart chick, brown hair, no-nonsense attitude. Takes everything in stride, can't ruffle a feather on her. This sound like your new prof?"
"Quite similar," Erts agreed. "This must be the same woman."
"Don't you have a classmate with history in the lineages?" Zero said distractedly, studying the bookshelves. He'd seen all the titles a dozen times before, but he liked to amuse himself by pretending not to be interesting in what they discussed. "Why not ask him?"
"That's true, Force's family is old magick, but I highly doubt I'll be able to ask him anytime soon..." Which reminded Erts about Force's unfortunate fate.
It was common knowledge that when bargaining with a demon for anything, no matter how insignificant, one should never approach it head-on. Information was no different. But Erts didn't believe in taking circuitous routes when a simpler one would suffice -- and besides, Zero was different.
His foster parents would have had coronaries just hearing them say the words, but he doubted they would approve even of his conversational partner, so he ignored that. "Aracd told me in class today that Force summoned a demon prince."
Unexpectedly, for a single fraction of a shocked second, all Zero's motion stopped. It seemed like an impossibility, like the concept of absolute zero itself, that Zero should simply stop for any period of time.
Before Erts had a chance to be more than taken aback by it, a quick bark of laughter and a feverish flurry of motion ended the stillness. Zero dropped to all fours, launched himself up to the channeling rod and flipped around it, then crouched gargoyle-esque on the top of it. He grinned ferociously as he leaned over the edge to peer down at his human summoner, tail lashing with mischief. "Hiead! It must've been Hiead, because I know it wasn't me, I would've noticed. That's great! He actually got summoned! That hasn't happened in almost nine hundred years -- the spell is really loose, you know, it doesn't guarantee which of us will be called; heck, most humans don't even know there's two Dragonchildren. Hiead usually ignores every call that goes to him, so this Force guy must've had a whole host of power at his disposal."
Or just a robe with lots of enchanted steel.> But Zero was quick to take offense when prior points were turned back against him, so Erts chose not to share that impertinent thought. "Word is that Force was eaten."
Zero's tail smacked into the channel with enough force to rattle it. "Figures. He likes eating when he gets summoned, especially since there's so many convenient humans nearby to feed him. And the theurgist missteps once, and..." He snapped his jaw shut toothily in illustration, and smirked at the blond. Erts utterly ignored the unsubtle hint.
"You're no fun," Zero complained, and swooped down to stand, more normal. He looked grim. "It's a shame, really; if your dumb friend hadn't made enough mistakes that Hiead could kill him, I could've used that against my darling brother."
For a moment, Erts felt a twinge of guilt. Zero desperately needed some kind of advantage on Hiead -- and it was his fault.
Without warning (was there ever any warning, with such an impetuous creature as this?) Zero's attitude shifted back to eagerness. "Hey, did I tell you about this morning?"
"No, not yet." Interest quickly replaced it. He was always the one talking to Zero; the demon prince never talked about his own life in return. "What happened?"
"See, there's this imp--" Zero cut himself off and gave a quick scan around the room. Zero was aware of Erts' familiar demon, although he had never met Imp personally; the little creature was too terrified at the prospect of meeting its ultimate master in the flesh, and usually when Erts returned from their chats, he found his pet hiding under the most voluminous cloak in his possession. Nevertheless, the Dragonchild was aware of, and wary of, this sole other demon in contact with his 'investment'. Restlessly, he lashed his tail, and then picked up the narrative. "A real imp, a damned soul that chose of his own free will to ally with Hell. Not like your thing -- an elemental, a dark-spirit."
"I know the difference between a dark elemental and an imp," Erts snapped, making sure that his voice contained just a hint of outrage. He was honestly insulted at the slight to his intelligence, and even though he was accustomed to hiding his true emotions, it had been his experience that Zero responded best when it was obvious how he really felt. "When I bound Imp to me, I was young, Zero. I was thirteen, and I didn't know how to tell the difference on sight. But I'm not stupid."
One of the most telling characteristics of the Dragonchildren was their ears: extremely long and thin, elven in appearance. Occasionally they would perk into a vague semblance of 'upright', but the muscles and tendons that controlled their movement were not really strong enough to support their own weight, leaving them almost perfectly perpendicular to the demon's skull. When the Dragonchildren were unhappy or vulnerable or otherwise gentled from their usual take-charge behavior, their ears actually sagged.
Zero's ears were bizarrely low, sinking to his jaw line in regret. He muttered under his breath, "It was an uncreative name anyway," and slunk across the room to pretend to study a statuette that Hiram had brought back from New Foundland.
Erts waited patiently for an apology.
"There's this imp," Zero began again, doggedly.
Oh, well. An apology is too much to ask for from the illustrious Prince of Hell.> There was a time to push one's luck, and a time to let things slide, and Erts was too professional not to know where that line was drawn.
When Erts made no objections, Zero's ears drifted back upwards, resuming a more cheered position as he explained with audible relief, "Named Yamagi. He's a pal. We picked him up a short while ago. He's Tukasa's plaything."
"Tukasa...?"
Zero shook his head, like an overgrown dog. "I haven't told you about my followers at all, have I? Tukasa's a siren. Doesn't do much, just sits around and looks pretty and elegant and tall. Hums sometimes, but she can't talk, or I'll tear out her fucking vocal cords, because even when she doesn't meant to she winds up manipulating others with her song. Not her fault, but hey, it's not my fault that I'm her boss, and you don't manipulate your boss. It's worth your life, trying that shit on your superior." He scowled, and his eyes slid to Erts momentarily before flitting away again. Leathery wings wrapped around him and settled like a cloak resting comfortably around his shoulders.
The demon picked up smoothly. "Anyhow. She's the one who picked Yamagi out, shaped him up, polished him, and dragged him to court. Roose and Wrecka -- I know I told you about them, the sluts? -- are the ones he mostly imprinted on, because they had sex with him, but it doesn't matter how frisky they're feeling. An invisible thread binds him to Tukasa. All she has to do is open her mouth and he's hers."
Erts got the feeling from Zero's previous words that it was a given that a siren could have anyone she wanted by merely opening her mouth, but said nothing.
"So, now you know those crackers. The others are Clay -- he's a gorgon, wears glasses so he doesn't kill anybody by accident, takes care of the Book of Life and Death, works in the Hall of the Damned--"
"Book of Life and Death?"
"Yeah, one of the Greater Books." Zero grinned. "Funny story about those books, because three of them are the same book -- Hey, stop distracting me, or I'll never get this story told... Clay's in my camp, and so is Saki. She's youkai: they're these eastern demons, and Saki's got six pointed ears and seven horns in a crown formation. Kinda unusual, really."
"I would imagine," Erts murmured under his breath, amused.
"So, that's my Horde. We were all together this morning for breakfast, and talking about current affairs. Then Clay, who's been telling Yamagi what he should write for his apology to your Guild, says..."
With fascination, Erts listened and took in every detail he could, asking after ones he didn't understand. Zero displayed uncharacteristic amounts of patience and entertained every question he was asked: no, Lucifer and Satan were not the same person, Satan was an administrative officer of almost as much authority as the Dragonchildren, whereas Lucifer was Herself; yes, Zero already did rule half of Hell in actuality and not just name; yes, there really were two different halves of Hell, at least ever since the Collapse.
The actual territory of Hell was a virtual unknown to mere mortals. The only people who had ever been there were the most powerful of sorcerers, not inclined to give away their secrets, and deceased souls, who understandably did not emerge again to share what they saw there. Even though Erts had spoken to Zero about his personal life many times in the past seven months, Zero had never once gone into detail about his own.
Here, all of a sudden, was the demon prince, chattering animatedly about his trusted advisors and friends, laughing, telling about how Satan and Clay had been all but spitting at each other in fury over a discrepancy in their respective Greater Books.
At long last, Erts felt like whatever it was that they had was evening out -- becoming less master-servant, less demon-mortal, and more a meeting of equals.
"And I just thought, how could I ask for anything more? You know what I mean?"
Erts smiled to himself. "I know exactly what you mean," he murmured.
Reference notes!
Sirens are faye who were banished from the mortal plane for cannibalism. It wasn't REALLY cannibalism -- a siren eating a human isn't eating one of her own kind, since she's faye, and sirens don't actually feed on other faye. But the humans felt it was a justified decision anyway, and so to Hell the sirens were condemned.
There are six Greater Books, as Zero says; they defy all logic, the highest orders of magical books, seemingly normal but containing impossible knowledge within them. One of them is in Hell: the Book of Life and Death, which Clay holds. It tells him the distribution and state of all the souls in Hell. There is also a Book of Life and Death in Purgatory, and another one in Heaven; the three books carry the same kind of information, for their respective areas. Purgatory also has the Book of Fate, which contains within it the future of all existence, not to mention mortals and other such life-forms. Heaven has two additional books: the Book of Days, in which is written everything that has ever happened in all of history, and the Book of Space and Time, in which is written all the truths and secrets of the universe. The Book of Space and Time is the most powerful of all the Greater Books.
Now that that trivia is done with... ^^
--Kay