Page 32

Chapter 32

Mothers

I rubbed at my knuckles, trying to take the sting away; I hadn’t considered that Shame might have made the bones in Tenebris’ nose stronger than human. Then again, back when I’d served as a Glorian Justiciar, my nose had been pretty much unbreakable, so I suppose I should take some satisfaction in the crunching sound when my fist collided with the diabolic’s proboscis.

‘You can change him back now,’ I told Shame.

‘All the way?’ she asked, which was unusual for her. She turned to Alice. ‘A diabolic has no particular need for actual horns when living upon the Mortal plane, do they?’

Alice’s shrug admirably conveyed her utter lack of concern either way. ‘Such powers a diabolic can wield upon this realm will not be affected. However, horns are not mere physical appendages on the Infernal plane. Their growth and unique designs develop with our particular affinities and achievements. The loss of those horns would considerably diminish his status among other Infernals.’

‘Hah!’ Corrigan laughed. ‘Give him little wiggly ones like pig-tails.’

My personal preference would have been for Tenebris to be stuck for the rest of his existence looking like a Glorian, only with significantly less bone density. Unfortunately, I’d made a deal with the Lords Devilish and even I wasn’t reckless enough to go back on it now.

‘Shame, turn Tenebris back the way he was.’

‘Knew you wouldn’t let me down, buddy.’ Somehow, his smirk managed to spoil even the perfection of his Glorian features.

‘Maybe make the horns a teensy bit smaller,’ I suggested.

I went to examine a defaced frieze that had long ago lost whatever magnificence it had once conveyed. The carvings were so obscured that I couldn’t even make out which god or goddess had once graced the curved stone wall. We used to have all sorts of gods in the Mortal realm, but those religions fell out of favour as our native folk magic evolved into a more sophisticated understanding of wonderism and we started encountering actual divine beings.

And may the Void take every one of those pompous, smug arseholes. Why should any of us worship gods who allow a baby to be stolen from its mother before she’s even held it in her arms?

‘It’s a terrible thing, taking a child from her mother,’ Galass said quietly, standing beside me. I had noticed she often did this when I was veering too close to introspection. She was watching my face, looking up at me with that empathy of hers that bordered on cunning, reminding me that one of the reasons blood mages become so dangerous when they lose their minds is that they are so damnably good at sensing the emotions of others.

I’d never understood why she insisted on wearing that silver sublime’s gown of hers. Why cling to the very symbol of perverse servitude into which she’d been born? Anyone else would’ve set the garment on fire– Corrigan had offered to on numerous occasions, although his motives were somewhat suspect. But Galass had never tried to escape her past, or hide from the world who and what she was. Maybe that’s why she was able to hold onto her sanity despite the sanguinalist magic coursing through her veins.

I used to be terrified that one day Galass would lose herself and it would fall to me to end her before she became the mass murderer she worked every day to prove wasn’t the inevitable destiny of all blood mages. Suddenly, a different terror chilled me.

If my time comes, if I lose control of this damned magic I’ve kept hidden from my friends, I hope it’s not you who has to put me down, kid.

‘Cade?’ she asked, detecting the change in me, though thankfully unable to actually read my thoughts.

I tried to form a reassuring smile, but some conjurations are beyond any of us. Fortunately, Corrigan came to my rescue.

‘Let’s not get all judgemental about removing children from the care of their mothers,’ he declared. ‘My own dear mamma tried to murder me in my crib.’ Tempestoral sparks bloomed between the knuckles of his right hand. ‘It’s not like I meant to keep blowing holes in the roof every time I wanted to be fed.’

There was a darker and even sadder story to his childhood, I knew, that he’d never told me, though I’d caught a glimpse of it months ago when I’d had to cast a nightmare bloom to keep him from killing Galass. The spell had forced him to relive the death of his wife when their unborn baby’s attunement to the Tempestoral plane had awakened too soon.

‘My mother also tried to kill me,’ Alice said, then looked away as if embarrassed that she might’ve been on the verge of sharing something personal with the rest of us. ‘That was more recent, however.’

‘Angelics have no parents,’ Shame informed us, her fingertips passing across Tenebris’ face as she finished re-sculpting his features and turned to restoring his skin to its original ivory colour and leathery texture. ‘The social customs arising from such affiliations among Mortals always struck me as awkward. Are your progenitors meant to be your masters or your servants?’

‘It’s more complicated than that,’ I replied, although given my own mother had quite happily abandoned me when I was still a boy, I didn’t have much experience on which to base that assertion either.

‘Well, I had a wonderful mother,’ Aradeus chimed in enthusiastically. ‘An absolute delight.’ He was twirling his whiskers, but then paused. ‘Ironically, she was a rat-catcher by profession.’ His fiddling with his facial hair resumed in earnest. ‘A wonderful woman, nonetheless!’

‘How so?’ Galass asked, adding, ‘I was born in the abbey. I never knew my mother.’

‘A pity,’ Aradeus said, drawing his rapier to cut and thrust at an imaginary opponent, all performed with a great many graceful flourishes. ‘Mine taught me to fence, to dance, and– most vital of all– how to comport myself in the company of a lady.’

I was desperately trying to come up with something rude to say about that, but Temper beat me to it. The kangaroo poked his head down through the hole in the ceiling and declared, ‘Motherfuckers.’

‘Okay, that was pretty funny,’ I admitted to Corrigan. ‘Maybe he really does have a sense of — What’s wrong?’

I’d expected him to start roaring with laughter, but he was dead silent save for the sparks erupting with even greater force from his fists.

‘Ah, I understand,’ Shame said, finishing the last of the four horns before turning to point at Aradeus. ‘The kangaroo chose to interpret the rat mage’s statement regarding his mother training him on how to behave around women in a sexual context, thus insinuating that Aradeus practised his erotic skills on his own moth — ’

‘Shut the hells up!’ Corrigan shouted, heading for the archway that led out of the temple. ‘Are you all deaf or something? Temper wasn’t saying “motherfuckers” as in, “I’d like a nice bowl of paella” or “I need to take a shit, can I use Cade’s tent again?” or even “Aradeus had carnal relations with his mummy”. He said motherfuckers as in “There are motherfuckers sneaking up on us!”’

Whatever doubts I’d had about Corrigan’s special relationship with the kangaroo were banished when Galass’ hair started doing its excellent imitation of dancing scarlet snakes. ‘Corrigan’s right. There are several beings approaching this temple. The flow of life within them is intermixed with the otherworldly qualities of wonderists.’

I spun on Tenebris, fully prepared to re-sculpt his face again without the benefit of Shame’s transfiguration magic. ‘If you’ve screwed us agai — ’

The diabolic was admiring his reflection in the glass shard again. ‘Relax, Cade. These are our guys.’

‘We’re not on the same side, arsehole,’ I reminded him. ‘There’s no such thing as our guys. There’s only my guys or your guys, and if your guys come any closer, there’s going to be a lot fewer of them.’

My crew were already in position for a fight. Alice had her whip-sword drawn and a nasty demoniac curse on her lips; Corrigan was one wrong move or an accidental sneeze from blowing up half the countryside; Aradeus was kissing the blade of his rapier, which. . . Well, I had no idea what that was supposed to do, but let’s assume it would be devastatingly effective in battle because the alternative was weirder than his story about his mother. Shame was in the midst of transforming herself into something that looked like a four-hundred-pound wrestler with three otter heads sprouting from her neck and shoulders. One day I’ll have to ask her why angelics apparently think otters are the most frightening creatures on the Mortal plane. As for Temper, I wasn’t sure what his preparations had involved, but the droplet of drool that fell through the hole in the ceiling to land on my cheek suggested he was anticipating a tasty meal.

‘Seriously,’ Tenebris said, retrieving the Glorian Banner before stepping past me to the open archway, ‘you got your crew wound way too tight, Cade.’

Outside, eight figures had assembled. Though none were yet casting any spells, I knew every one of the bastards was a wonderist.

Aradeus, his keen eyes darting from one mage to the next, enumerated our potential opponents. ‘Two totemists. The slender beauty with the cat ears is a felinist; the hefty youth with the curved tusks implanted either side of his lower jaw is likely a borinist. The tall fellow with the mahogany bark skin is obviously a florinist, and that delightful blossom of womanliness with the bandolier of keys across her chest is surely a practitioner of portalist magic. Her long-haired companion with the poor sense of personal hygiene and those dozens of shackles dangling from his scrawny arms is clearly an incarcerationist. Equally obvious is the androgynous one who looks like a walking void and must therefore be a cosmist. This leaves only the unassuming chap whose attunement I can’t yet discer — ’

‘Infernalist,’ I told him. Those who follow my former vocation prefer to remain inconspicuous: it helps make sure your comrades are the ones who get shot first.

‘Ah, quite right,’ Aradeus agreed. ‘That’s seven, which leaves only the heavy-set bon vivant with the elaborate moustashios and forked beard commonly found among — ’

‘A fucking luminist ?’ Corrigan groaned. ‘I refuse to fight one of those losers. It’s embarrassing .’ He shoved past Aradeus to peer outside. ‘At least this guy’s not wearing one of those ridiculous multi-coloured coats. In fact. . .’ His eyes narrowed in suspicion, quickly becoming a glare which he aimed squarely at me. ‘What. Are. Those. Guys. Wearing?’

All eight wonderists were dressed in tailored black leather calf-length coats over equally tailored and equally black leather trousers. To top them off were half-cloaks, fluttering majestically in the breeze.

‘Those appear to be uniforms,’ I conceded.

One of the totemists– the young borinist with the idiot tusks mounted into his lower jaw– gave a curt bow and in a reedy voice quite at odds with his presumably intentionally brutish appearance said, ‘We find it useful to make an impression now and then.’

Corrigan’s righteous wrath was a wonder to behold, although I would’ve preferred it had it not been directed at me. ‘I told you we needed uniforms, Cade. I fucking told you. But no, you refused. “We’ll look like a theatre troop,” you said. “It’s unprofessional.” Well, now we’re the ones who could pass for rejects from an under-funded carnival, while these pricks look like proper heroes!’

‘You really think this is what we should be focusing on right now?’

Alice interrupted me. ‘It is true.’ She gestured with the tip of her whip-sword. ‘The uniforms do look impressive.’

‘I must side with Brother Cade here,’ Aradeus said.

‘ Thank you. At least some — ’

‘Those leather trousers would be constraining in a duel,’ the rat mage continued. ‘I do like those cloaks, however. Perhaps we could add epaulettes?’

‘Now you’re talking, rat boy!’ Corrigan bellowed.

This is the problem with wonderists: they’re inherently emotionally unstable and utterly incapable of taking imminent death seriously. Well, except me, of course. I’m exceptional at taking death seriously. Despite how hard I’d been working to avoid using spells in front of the others that might give away my attunement, I prepared myself to conjure up a piece of catastrophic nastiness, just in case diplomacy didn’t work. ‘Those capes are a little too short to serve as shrouds,’ I said to the eight wonderists. ‘On the other hand, we’ll be happy to chop your corpses up into little pieces to make everything fit.’

‘Will you fucking relax?’ Tenebris asked, his hands still probing each of his four horns to make sure Shame had put everything back exactly where it was supposed to be. ‘I told you, these guys are working for us.’

‘The Pandoral’s doomsday cult is working for you ?’ I demanded, grabbing Tenebris by the collar of his newly restored brocaded coat. ‘You told us they were the ones who’d captured you and turned you over to the Aurorals!’

He shrugged off my grip and handed the Glorian Banner to the felinist, who, unlike Aradeus, was the sort of totemist who went out of her way to look like her chosen symbol. ‘That was part of the plan. We needed to make the Pandoral believe that these guys were part of his stupid doomsday cult– that way, he wouldn’t suspect that either the Celestines or the Devilish were the ones who’d recruited eight of the toughest and most cunning wonderists in the entire Mortal realm’– he gave me a smarmy sideways glance– ‘present company definitely included.’

‘They don’t look like much to me,’ Corrigan muttered sulkily.

‘Well, unlike your weak-arse crew,’ Tenebris countered, ‘my guys have not only fooled the Pandoral into elevating them to his inner circle, they’ve got a way to destroy that bug swarm piece of shit before he can channel the ecclesiasm of this world into his own fucked-up plane of reality.’ Being an inveterate showman, the diabolic couldn’t help but swing his arm out wide. ‘In other words, boys and girls, the Mortal realm is about to be saved by — ’

‘Don’t say it,’ Corrigan warned. ‘Don’t you dare fucking say it.’

But he was too late, for Tenebris was declaring proudly, ‘ — the Apocalypse Eight!’