Estelle Ana Baca

Tag: Sitri

  • Astaroth’s Wager, the Conclusion (Really!)

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part XVI.

    The police were there, and they were asking questions about what had happened. They wanted to know why the stove hadn’t been repaired. They wanted to know why Thomas hadn’t been at the office when they called. They wanted to know why his wife and infant child were still sound asleep in their beds when the fire took hold at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. They wanted to know why the neighbors had said that his deranged sister was always screaming in the night. They wanted to know if she’d started the fire, or if it had been he, who had been fired from work that day for stealing. They wanted to know why one of the items he’d been accused of at work stealing had been recovered at the scene. In fact, it was the only thing that had survived the entire blaze: a gold lighter that seemed untouched by the flames.

    He vociferously denied everything when they carried him away to the police station and booked him.

    He sat in the cell that night. There was a great part of him that didn’t feel as if it had been real. It had been too much to happen in one day. Too much loss. He couldn’t process it. It was simply unbelievable that everyone he loved and everything he had was gone.

    He returned to the thought that he had felt truly ruined at 24, but he was more than ruined. He was irreparably fractured. There would be no healing. He’d had so much, and it was gone. All of it was gone. He collapsed underneath the weight of his grief and wept in his cell all night.

    The next morning, he met with his court appointed lawyer. The police believed that he’d murdered his sister, his wife and his child, and burnt down his home, and all on the day that he’d been caught stealing from work. There was no evidence to prove that he hadn’t been there. As far as the State of California was concerned, he was guilty. He was a dead man walking. The lawyer said it was inevitable.

    And when he lay on the cot in his cell that night, one thought was set to repeat in his mind. “It’s hopeless. It’s completely hopeless.”

    *          *          *

    “You weren’t supposed to win this one, Astaroth. I’m not ceding my Estate,” Sitri said.

    “You will cede your Estate to me. I killed an angel, a Nephil and six primates in this wager. I won. Thomas Carver is a broken man, and Michael isn’t darkening your doorstep to seek revenge for his fallen brother. And if you don’t, remember that I am now Queen of Greece and Anatolia. I will bring down upon you the fury of Asia Minor if you don’t relinquish your lands.” Astaroth said.

    “Svipul?” Sitri asked in desperation.

    “You offered her your Estate for your mistakes. You never should have offered it up if you weren’t willing to part with it. Take what she gives you,” Svipul said.

    Sitri couldn’t afford to wage a war against Astaroth when his own Estate claims were in question, so he relinquished his claims. Astaroth had become Queen of Britannia, too.

    Astaroth was relatively benevolent, and she bestowed upon Sitri the Estate of President of London and the Home Counties. She made Svipul the Princess of Athens, and Caius became an honorary Knight.

    The Gas Chamber at San Quentin Prison, California.
    The very same gas chamber in which Thomas Carver died. He was executed in February 1939.

    *          *          *

    Up until day the State of California executed him for the murders of his wife, his child and his sister, Thomas never knew another shred of hope. But as he prepared to inhale the noxious vapors that would kill him, he discovered a shimmering, lost thing. Because he believed in his innocence, he hoped that after his heart had stopped and his soul had left his body, that he would see Adelaide and Hank and all his other loved ones again.

    Estelle will be taking the reins next week. I need a break after this one. Dominus vobiscum.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part X

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part IX.

    “What will you have me do now, madam?” Caius asked.

    “Well—Stolas should be calming down right about now and on his way to come kill me,” Astaroth said. “I know you’re partial to the body of that Prussian primate, but it’s time to let it go. Leave it, and leave here. You don’t want to be around when at least one angel shows up. I’ll call for you when I’m finished here.”

    “As you wish, madam,” Caius replied. He sat down in a chair in their suite. The body that he had possessed went limp, falling into the deep unconsciousness characteristic of a coma. The essence of his Neku self had departed.

    “Did you have to destroy my Kazuko as well when you destroyed all the other Nekus?” Svipul asked Astaroth. “It’ll take me at least two centuries to develop that kind of loyalty in another Neku.”

    “I can’t argue with that. Nekus don’t really grasp their utter dependence upon their Apokomistai masters for at least half a millennium,” Astaroth said. “But you do realize, my dear Svipul, that you have a better chance at getting an audience with God than you do in extracting even the slightest apology from me.”

    “So—what is your plan now?”

    “I give Stolas not long at all before he’s here to try to take back my ellamadus,” Astaroth said. She migrated to the middle of the suite where there was an open space on the carpet.

    “And then?”

    “There’s the rub, isn’t it?” Astaroth said.

    “You’re not even going to provide a hint as to what to expect?” Svipul asked, joining her in the open space.

    “You can expect fun. Draw your sword. If you would be so kind as to provide me with support, I’ll see to it that you’re rewarded for your bravery.” Astaroth held the Ashera Didilak in her open palm. She muttered a few phrases, and the ellamadus glowed brightly again.

    “Is that the Ashera Didilak?” Svipul asked.

    The ellamadus went dull in her hand. “Break my concentration again and you’ll find out just how much damage the Ashera Didilak really can do. Now—be ready. We don’t know how ready for battle the half-primate will be,” Astaroth ordered.

    Svipul drew her sword.

    Astaroth pronounced a few more phrases in the ancient, forgotten language, and for a few moments, her voice changed, so that the timbre of her voice more closely resembled a percussion instrument than a vocalized sound. The Ashera Didilak’s lavender light grew as unbearably bright as the sun for a fraction of a moment, until its light collapsed in on itself. The ellamadus phased out of sight for a similarly tiny amount of time and reappeared in Astaroth’s palm as it had before she had channelled its magics.

    Rose Nielsen materialized out of thin air, and she fell on her knees onto the floor. She looked as if she had been awakened from a nap. Nonetheless, it appeared that she had sensed that she was being unexpectedly ripped from the comfort of where she had been, and with the one hand she had, she had gripped what was closest to her to anchor her. Much to her horror and Astaroth’s delight, it was a similarly sleepy and disoriented Adelaide Grayson.

    Rose and Adelaide quickly tried to scramble to their feet, but Svipul held her blade at Rose’s throat. Svipul said with a voice filled with unnatural menace, “Keep to the floor and quiet. Both of you.”

    Adelaide’s shock took the better of her. Her entire complexion turned grey, and she fainted again.

    “Look, Svipul! Sitri isn’t the pathetic warrior we thought he was. I’ll go out on a limb here and guess that you’re unarmed, Miss Nielsen. I’d be willing to bet that you’ve forgotten your blade, too,” Astaroth said with an unnervingly giddy expression.  “That primate might be able to lend you a hand in a very literal sense, but unless you brought your own weapon to disarm her, she’s useless to you now in every other meaningful way.” She directed her attention to Svipul and said, “What do you think? One pun too many?”

    “Why do you want Adelaide?” Rose demanded.

    “This has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with a miscarriage of a wager. I might even let the primate go when this is all over,” Astaroth said.

    “My father and Kivati will be here soon,” Rose threatened.

    “I’m counting on that,” Astaroth retorted. She held up the Ashera Didlak again and resumed eliciting its magics. The lavender light flowed out of it in long threads that circled Rose until they formed a faint chamber around her. Rose tried to protest, but the chamber only echoed her own sounds back to her. She looked panicked, and she started pounding on the walls of the chamber.

    “Take the female primate with you and leave,” Astaroth said.

    “I’ll meet you at my flat in Antwerp,” Svipul replied. She lifted Adelaide off the floor, and the two of them vanished.

    Astaroth was alone in the suite with Rose inside her mystical chamber for no longer than a few long moments when Stolas appeared.

    “Astaroth! I want it back!” he cried.

    “I told you I just wanted to borrow it. You’ll have it back before you know it,” Astaroth said.

    Rose was furiously kicking at the walls of the cocoon in a demonstration of futility when the entire character of the room shifted: Itzamná and Kivati had arrived.

    Human eyes would never have caught everything that happened during the few seconds in which it all transpired: Astaroth tossed the Ashera Didilak in the air, drew her blade and vanished; Stolas caught the ellamadus; Kivati struck Stolas down and killed him; Itzamná struggled to break into the chamber to save his daughter; Astaroth rematerialized behind Itzamná, struck him with her blade and killed him. There was a jarring blast of light that burst in the room from Itzamná’s death, like supernova in the supremely miniature, and while Kivati was stunned by the explosion of Itzamná’s Graces, Astaroth seized the Ashera Didilak. She issued one final command to the Ashera Didilak, and the walls of chamber around Rose rapidly drew in to crush her and kill her. Kivati struck out at Astaroth to engage her in battle, but Astaroth’s merely lobbed the Ashera Didilak back at her and vanished.

    The hotel suite went still. Kivati was alone in the silence with Caius’ dying human host and a clump of black material that resembled obsidian where Stolas had met his end. There was a shift in the atmosphere of the room from the detectable metaphysical markers that an angel and a Nephil had perished there.

    Kivati reported back to Heaven that Astaroth had been involved in Itzamná’s death, and she requested permission to pursue, detain and destroy her. The response she received infuriated her: no further action was to be taken, for Itzamná had disobeyed when he left his post once again to save his daughter from an Apokomistis with a reputation like Astaroth’s. Rose hadn’t had much of a chance in the hands of any Apokomistis with an ellamadus. Had they not responded, Itzamná’s lifeforce would have remained in tact, and he wouldn’t have died. Without an ellamadus, Astaroth was no more dangerous than the average Apokomistis, and pursuing her wasn’t of the any immediate importance. Kivati was ordered to return to her post immediately and without complaint.

    Kivati eyed the Ashera Didilak carefully in her palm. Her fingers closed around it, and she smashed it, obliterating one of the most powerful magical objects in ever in existence.

    *          *          *

    Adelaide was still unconscious on the floor of Svipul’s flat when Astaroth joined them. Svipul said, “I have an idea on how to tie up this Thomas Carver loose end. You can use the Ashera Didilak to—”

    Astaroth interrupted, “I gave the Ashera Didilak to Kivati before I left the scene, and I’m sure that by now she’s turned it into a useless pile of metallic powder.”

    “Why?”

    “Stolas is no more. I will lay claim to all his territories and possessions at the soonest, after we’ve taken care of Thomas Carver.”

    “But the ellamadus—your power would be unquestionable with it.”

    Astaroth grinned. “My power is unquestionable without it. The only purpose it could serve in the future would be to deliver my own downfall, just as it did for Stolas. The only reason one ever needs a ladder after one has ascended to a rooftop is if one has the intention of coming down. I have no intention of ever relinquishing my title of Queen, and I no longer require the ladder that allowed me to reach this height. That, Svipul, is power.”

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part XI.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part VIII

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part VII.

    Demons, like angels, have their own system of classification that is remotely similar to the angels’ Orders. Apokomistai and Nekus alike are divided into what demons call Estates. Whereas our Orders are were permanent and were assigned to us by God based upon the gifts we received from our Graces, the Estates are, for the most part, a hierarchy based upon a demon’s abilities in terms of their strength and intelligence, with strength typically tipping the balance whenever there is a dispute. Unlike the Orders, a demon’s Estate can change over time, so that a demon can acquire more power and/or territory over time, and many demon wars have occurred as a result of attempts to ascend to a different Estate. There are thirteen Estates, and they are, from the highest rank to the lowest, Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses, Presidents, Chancellors, Dukes and Duchesses, Margraves and Margravines, Counts and Countesses, Viscounts and Viscountesses, Barons and Baronesses, Knights and Dames, Generals, Devils and Demons. To date, no Neku has ever been able to claim an Estate higher than General, although there have been a few exceptions in which a handful have received the Estate of Knight or Dame as an honorary distinction that isn’t recognized by anyone except their master. All the other ranks are reserved exclusively for the Apokomistai.

    Temple of Athena Nike
    A contemporary postcard of the Temple of Athena Nike.

    Princess Astaroth, as she was styled at the time, went to Athens to seek out the Apokomistis Stolas, who was then the King of Greece and Anatolia. Stolas’ power wasn’t necessarily in the territory he held but in the objects that were within his control. He had obtained his Estate when he rescued all the grimoires, both ellamadi and a shocking number of other magical objects from the destructive fires that consumed the Library of Alexandria. The result was that Stolas was able to wield a profound amount of magical power and he gladly took the credit for having burned the Library to the ground in 48 BC, even though the true source of the blaze that swallowed all that ancient human knowledge came from a drunken dare gone horribly wrong by a few of Julius Caesar’s soldiers. After he left Egypt, the Viscount Stolas went to Athens and made a play for King Dantalion’s territories. Dantalion’s magical knowledge wasn’t enough to compete with Stolas’ dumb luck, and Stolas encased him within a mystical pocket in which he is still trapped at this very moment. King Stolas remained in Athens, minding his treasures and his reputation with a legion of Nekus in his command to help him look after the wares that propelled him upward from his relative obscurity as a Viscount. However, given the method of his claim to King, he often looked after his affairs with a more than adequate measure of paranoia. He consequently steered clear of almost all of the other Apokomistai and had an alarmingly high rate of turnover with his Nekus, usually killing them within a year of their birth. Most Nekus live to be a few hundred years old at the very least.

    Astaroth arrived alone and unannounced on the steps of his opulent palace in the late evening hours of that same day, June 4, 1936. The twenty-nine infant Nekus who were serving as the outdoor sentinels provided some resistance to her confident march into the palace, and they invited a dozen more from inside the palace to join in the struggle until they all understood what she was based upon her strength. They immediately backed off in fear and sent word to their King that a Princess had arrived. She strode unaccompanied into a drawing room in which Stolas was feasting upon a young boy that his Nekus had kidnapped for their master’s enjoyment.

    “I need it,” Astaroth announced.

    “No. But it’s nice to see you again, Asta,” Stolas answered, and he wiped the boy’s blood off his hands with an embroidered handkerchief. “You know I don’t like being interrupted, and I know you wouldn’t come in here asking for such a valuable object. Not really. You have something else in mind, don’t you?”

    “I don’t. I want it. You’ll have it back in a year. Exactly a year from today, if you like. I’ll give you whatever you want as collateral,” Astaroth said.

    Stolas issued an amused chuckle. “It’s not for loaning. It’s not for anything except admiring with genuine awe. It’s mine, and it’s not going anywhere.”

    “Fine. King Sitri wants it,” Astaroth said.

    “Sitri wouldn’t send you on an errand to claim such a thing. He’d come to claim it personally. So let’s not dwell on that non-negotiable,” Stolas said. “Would you like a boy before I throw you out? My Nekus brought me a fresh batch just today. They’re from Crete. You can actually taste the Mediterranean in their flesh. Come on—try one.”

    “I’ve never acquired a taste for primate flesh,” Astaroth replied.

    “You’re missing out if you only dine on their souls,” Stolas said. He turned to a Neku and said, “Bring her a boy and a proper soul-drinking vessel.”

    “I suppose I could stay for a moment. I might be able to convince you to part with it—” Astaroth said.

    “Not a chance. But I’m not having all my Nekus forcefully eject you from the premises until you’ve tried one.”

    Astaroth remained in the palace for an hour, carefully extracting the soul of the boy that Stolas’ Nekus had brought to her and savoring it slowly. She thanked Stolas for his hospitality, made a final plea for it, left without further complaint and went to meet Caius in the hotel suite that he had secured for her barely a couple of hours prior.

    “Was my initial diversion large enough?” Astaroth inquired.

    “It was perfect, madam,” Caius answered.

    “You were able to get in?”

    “Yes, madam.”

    “And were you able to lift it without any of those incompetent Nekus ever suspecting anything?” Astaroth asked with growing enthusiasm.

    “Yes, madam.”

    “And you’ve got it now?!” Astaroth demanded excitedly.

    “Indeed, madam,” Caius said. He handed her a small, silvery mechanism that looked like a combination of a pocket watch and a tiny globe. It was the same object that Stolas had refused to loan her. It was the most powerful thing he had, for it was a store of the most potent magics available. It was an ellamadus.

    Happy New Year to all of you who mark time using the Gregorian Calendar! Dominus vobiscum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part IX.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part VII

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part VI.

    It’s the solstice! Did you see the eclipse last night? Eclipses are always so beautiful. I watched it with Sidriel and Orifiel, a Cherub who helps me watch the Holloways.

    As the Apokomistis is capable of manipulating his or her appearance, most prefer to assume a human form that resembles a wealthier, idealized version of his or her environment’s common denominator. Astaroth, too, used to shift according to her geographic location, but during the 1920s, she discovered a form from which she doesn’t often vary. Astaroth has ever since fashioned her appearance to resemble that of the Hollywood blonde bombshell in the prime of her youth. Her features are always perfectly proportional, and were it not for the delighted menace that accompanies her smile, she would indeed be beautiful. She most often appears to be wearing light-colored, tailored suit—eggshell is her favorite color—thus indicating that she is a woman who lacks for nothing.

    Lobby of the Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco
    An old postcard of the lobby of the Fairmont.

    Of course, women who dress as such are frequently seen in the most lavish of surroundings, and she doesn’t disappoint. Thus, when Sitri had returned from his misadventure, he found her and Svipul, along with a sampling of their Nekus, in the penthouse suite of the Fairmont. He dismissed the Nekus and explained what had happened, along with expressing concern at remaining in a place so close to the action.

    Astaroth wasn’t pleased. “Are you trying to make this more difficult for me? This could be considered a breach of your terms, and then you’d have to forfeit for the second time today. Your prize would be mine, which, I have to say, would be a lot easier than taking on Itzamná.”

    “And Kivati,” Sitri added.

    “There was no discussion about Kivati in our initial wager. If you want Kivati, you need to go after her yourself. I only agreed to one Watcher,” Astaroth said. “Tell me you weren’t stupid enough to let her identify you.”

    “She grabbed me and transported me. She knows it was me,” Sitri said. “I know that I—”

    “If you don’t keep that pathetic explanation you’ve been rehearsing to yourself, I’ll add your name to my list,” Astaroth threatened.

    “So what’s your plan?” Sitri asked.

    “I should think that you’d be aware that I want to win this wager. That said, what makes you think that I would tell you and give you the chance to spoil everything, just as you’ve done so far?” Astaroth said.

    “Kivati will be looking for you. You should leave, Sitri,” Svipul stated.

    “She’s right. You need to disappear. If you’re here, you’re only going to involve more angels. Why not check in with that Neku in Cyprus you’ve been baiting?” Astaroth said.

    “Will you see that the terms are met?” Sitri asked Svipul.

    “You have my word,” Svipul affirmed.

    Without any further salutation, Sitri was gone.

    Astaroth told Svipul, “There aren’t many options available to us now. Heaven knows that Sitri and I go way back, and they might already know I’m here. The Nephil isn’t likely to leave that primate alone. We’re going to have to recruit an Apokomistis who’s dumb enough not to suspect that he or she is our bait, and use him to draw out the Nephil and then the Watcher after. With them out of the way, I’ll be able to work on that primate.”

    “Rose Nielsen is a talented Nephil. If Sitri’s to be believed, she knew that he was there before she got close to him. We have to believe that she’ll be able to sense us in her proximity. She won’t make the same mistakes that a younger Nephil would make, either,” Svipul said.

    “She’s half-Watcher, yes, but she’s half-primate, too. We just have to appeal to her ‘humanity’ and offer her what she wants most, if only temporarily. What else do we know about Rose Nielsen?” Astaroth said.

    “I’ll send my Neku Kazuko to find out everything on her,” Svipul offered.

    “Svipul! I thought you weren’t supposed to help!”

    “Sitri got two angels after us within half the day. What he doesn’t know…”

    “…will cost him dearly.”

    “And he’ll deserve it,” Svipul added, and she stalked off to converse with her Neku.

    Astaroth called her Neku Caius to her. She said, “Tell the others that we’re leaving, and check us out of this hotel. Do assure them that we appreciated everything and make a reservation for this same suite for this same week next year. I’m coming to appreciate San Francisco in June.”

    Stolas the Apokomistis
    Stolas was an Apokomistis who lived in Athens. He was drawn as such in Collin de Plancy’s Diccionaire Infernal, and was so furious at the depiction that he was solely responsible for de Plancy’s subsequent fervor for Catholicism.

    “Might I tell the others where we’re going?” Caius asked.

    “No. Give them leave for exactly seven days to do as they wish and to await your instructions at their finish. You, however, are coming with me. Send a wire to Athens and make our usual booking there,” Astaroth said.

    “Shall I notify Stolas that we will be at his doorstep?” Caius wondered.

    “If you do, I’ll destroy you,” Astaroth replied with her unnervingly pleasant smile.

    Happy Solstice! Merry Christmas! Happy Kwanzaa! If you and your family celebrate something different at this time, please accept my warmest wishes for a wonderful holiday. Dominus vobiscum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part VIII.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part VI

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part V.

    Kivati had no time to waste. While Thomas Carver spilled out of the entrance of the Phelan Building, Kivati nabbed the Apokomistis in pursuit and transported the demon to the roof of the building.

    She hadn’t recognized him at first, but as soon as she had him in her grasp, she knew that it was Sitri. She expected him to engage her in a duel, but he fought her just enough to break free and vanish.

    Thomas had ducked into an alley. He hadn’t had a chance to react before the Watcher had materialized next to him, gripped his hand and brought him back to the boarding house.

    Adelaide was flabbergasted. She had been instantly relocated from the kitchen to Rose’s room. Her fiancé gaped stupidly at her sudden appearance.

    “I wish that we could ease you into this, but there’s no time,” Rose said.

    Kivati’s entire form glowed to demonstrate her Grace to the humans. She said, “I am Kivati, and I am an angel of God.”

    Kivati and Rose traded unimpressed looks, for both humans had passed out at the revelation of Kivati’s Grace. After a few long moments of silence, Adelaide had regained consciousness, and she shook Thomas until he blinked his eyes back into proper use. He uttered an impolite phrase as an indication of his disbelief.

    “Are you really an angel?” Adelaide asked.

    “Yes,” Kivati affirmed, and she allowed her form to radiate her Grace again.

    Adelaide smacked Thomas on the arm.

    “What was that for?” Thomas demanded.

    “For cursing in front of an angel, if that’s what the glowing police officer really is. You also shouldn’t curse like that in front of the boarders. Or me, for that matter,” Adelaide said.

    “Thomas, if you would, could you please tell us why a demon assumed your form earlier today, attacked Rose and was chasing you at your workplace?” Kivati asked.

    It took Kivati and Rose much longer than they’d hoped for them to get an answer from Thomas. They had to provide explanations about angels, demons and monsters, as well as rehash what had happened when a demon pretending to be Thomas had showed up at the boarding house. Humans do have the worst time accepting that that which they call the supernatural actually exists. After a quarter of an hour, Thomas provided the details of his day.

    “It has been a strange day. I got up before the sun this morning, and I went to the Western Union to wire some money to my sister in Kansas City. You see, sir, she and her husband have had trouble getting by since our parents passed and left her the family home, and she was worried that the bank was going to take it back. I got a second job at a grocer last month to help her out, in addition to helping Adelaide and I save for our own home after we’re married. My sister was sure that the situation was hopeless and that they’d be out on the street, but as luck would have it, I got a raise at my job at the Phelan. I had enough money to help her out with the debt on the house and still have a little extra for us,” Thomas explained.

    “I’d gotten the day off from my job at the Phelan because I’d received a summons from the court for jury duty. I was selected immediately as an alternate juror, and before we were even called into the courtroom, the civil matter had been settled and we were dismissed.

    “At that point, I felt that everything was going my way. I figured I’d head into work and clock in for the rest of the day. But as I was passing a luncheonette, I realized that I was hungry, so I stopped in for a bowl of soup.”

    “It’s June, and you want soup,” Adelaide remarked.

    “I love warm things on a warm day. Just like I like cool things on cool days,” Thomas said. “Back to my day—I was just enjoying my soup when a gangster came in and accused me of owing his boss seven thousand dollars because of a dice game. I don’t play dice, and I figured there had to be some mistake. It was strange, though. He knew where I lived and he knew all about you, Adelaide—”

    Thomas related the entire conversation he’d unknowingly had with Sitri. “And an hour later, he showed up at the Phelan and threatened me. I ran. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Mr. Leonard about running out in the middle of a workday. He’s been really very kind to me, and I’m indebted to him after giving me the pay raise.” He hung his head. “I’m just a coward, plain and simple.”

    Kivati said, “Don’t worry about your job. I will speak with him in the guise I have now and clear the matter up for you.”

    Rose added, “And you’re not a coward. That demon would have destroyed you if he’d’ve caught you.”

    “So that was a demon—no joshing? Why is he after me?” Thomas asked.

    “We don’t know,” Rose said. “But we’re going to keep an eye on you until we can figure out what’s going on.”

    Rose agreed to stay with Adelaide and watch her for the rest of the day, and Kivati escorted Thomas back to the Phelan and had a word with his employer Mr. Leonard about the gangster. She gave Thomas’s boss a number of assurances that it was a police matter that was being handled. Thomas was permitted to return to work, and Kivati remained close by, albeit in various disguises.

    Itzamná was given half an hour of leave to check on his daughter. He had a few extra moments remaining before he was due back at his post, and so he joined Kivati in the watch over Thomas. Itzamná said, “So it was Sitri?”

    “The one and only,” Kivati answered.

    “You know what it means if he’s making a public appearance, don’t you?” he asked.

    “It means that in all likelihood, Astaroth is around here somewhere,” she said.

    “We’re of one mind, then,” Itzamná said. “We need to figure out what she’s doing here and why, because it’s just a matter of time before she’ll strike hard.”

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part VII.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part V

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part IV.

    All the while Astaroth, Sitri and Svipul were on their way to Market Street, Rose Nielsen was interrogating Adelaide Grayson about her betrothed. Adelaide, her mother and grandfather were beyond baffled at what had taken place. They were all struggling to accept that Rose was adamant that Thomas hadn’t been Thomas, and that the false Thomas had attacked her. Mrs. Grayson had already called for the doctor to come round and have a look at the gash in her arm, despite Rose’s insistence that she would see her own doctor at the soonest. The bleeding had stopped, but the cursed magics in Sitri’s blade were turning Rose’s wound black and causing pieces of flesh to crumble off her arm like charcoal.

    Rose had called out to her father, and Itzamná answered. He appeared at the boarding house, posing as a doctor. He brought with him another Watcher by the name of Kivati, who had adopted the semblance of a police officer. Kivati gathered as much information as she could on Thomas, Adelaide and her family while Itzamná worked on Rose’s wound. Unfortunately, neither he nor Kivati had the gifts to repair the damage that had been done by the cursed blade. Rose understood the situation very well. She told her father, “There’s no time to argue about this. Either you do it, or I’ll do it myself and make a mess of it. I’ll be able to heal up afterward.”

    Itzamná hesitated for a few moments, but in the end, he applied a quick stroke to her elbow with his steel. Nephilim heal quickly from physical wounds, and by the end of the evening, a human would have assumed that she’d lost her forearm at least a month before.

    Now—please do understand that back in those days, we angels all had very specific roles to fill. Watchers had some of the most thankless roles of all the Orders, and they were made to answer to Dominions, the Order responsible for the management of processes within Heaven and the Universe. Every Watcher found it torturous to watch and not intervene, and every last one of them disobeyed and was reprimanded for his or her actions on more than one occasion. I don’t blame them. It’s torturous being here now as an Archangel and not being able to do much of anything. Most of the time, many Dominions were directly supervising Watchers who hadn’t followed their directives and disobeyed.

    Itzamná had been on a particularly short leash at the time, considering that he had been tasked with extra duties as punishment for partnering with a human and fathering a Nephil. It pained him to have to depart from his wounded daughter after less than an hour with her in order to carry out his duties as a Watcher. He promised his daughter that he would return as soon as he was able and help her hunt down the demon who attacked her, and he left her in Kivati’s care.

    Kivati, however, hadn’t recently been censured by Heaven at that time. She presented what she had learned of the attack to the Dominion who was her supervisor, and she was given permission to follow Rose, determine the reason for the attack and dispatch the demon who had perpetrated it. Kivati made sure that Rose and everyone else at the boarding house were in no imminent danger and went out to find Thomas Carver.

    The Phelan Building
    An old postcard of the Phelan Building. It’s still an impressive architectural feat today.

    Kivati didn’t have much reason to hope for Thomas’ safety. Over the millennia of observing humans, she had learned that, under normal circumstances, an Apokomistis who masqueraded as a human had already executed some evil upon that human and was merely tying up loose ends. Adelaide had supplied the address of Thomas’ employer: he was one the elevator operators for the Phelan Building on Market Street, one of the lovely architectural gems from the reconstructive years following the Great Earthquake of 1906. Maintaining her cover as a police officer, she adeptly materialized within the lobby of the Phelan Building so as not to attract any attention from the many humans in the area.

    She’d arrived just in time. Thomas was being chased out of the elevator and through the lobby by an Apokomistis, and she gave pursuit.

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part VI.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part IV

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part III.

    I hope you can forgive me for not providing a chapter last week. I am thankful that I don’t require planes for transportation. They’re so loud, slow and confining. Anyway—back to business now.

    Astaroth directed the driver of her car to take them to Market Street to placate her frustrated companion. She stared at Sitri with a mockingly pleasant smile on her face for the longest time.

    “Why are you smiling at me like that?” Sitri asked.

    “Because you’re going to lose,” she answered. “And you know it. You haven’t thought this through at all. I must say, this is your poorest effort in at least five hundred years. You’ve admirably demonstrated that the only hopeless one in this entire affair is you.”

    Sitri didn’t suffer insults lightly. He had his steel at the ready, and he drew it from its scabbard with a menacing slowness. He said nothing, but his intentions were clear from his scathing expression.

    “You’re not going to attack me,” Astaroth said. “You’re going to do better than this. Going through his life and systematically eliminating the things that are going well for him isn’t the answer. It didn’t work on Job, and it’s not going to work on him.”

    Sitri remained silent and ready to attack.

    “You want your favorite London property back, and I want that smug little primate to realize that hope is as mortal as he is. Make him suffer, Sitri, or admit defeat now and present me with a wager,” Astaroth said.

    “I’ll do fine without my property on Tottenham Court Road. You won it fairly, and I would appreciate the opportunity to win it back fairly in the future. You were right, Svipul. You can’t make a human lose hope in twenty-four hours without resorting to cliché. And you know as well as I do that the Nephil I injured back there is Itzamná’s daughter. He’ll be looking for me. I’ve got bigger problems than this petty little wager,” Sitri said.

    Itzamná, the Watcher
    Itzamná was a Watcher. He was stationed in Mesoamerica and was spotted by the Mayans. They revered him as one of their gods.

    “So you admit defeat?” Astaroth said.

    “Yes.”

    “What is my wager then?”

    “You have a month. Since you set me on this task, you’re now going to deprive that same smug little primate Thomas Carver of all hope—since he seems to be more than just a bee in your bonnet—and you’re going to get rid of Rose Nielsen and Itzamná before they find out what this was all about and come looking for us,” Sitri said. “And I’m going to lay low and let you do all the heavy lifting.”

    “And what will I receive upon success? Getting rid of an angel and his Nephil is likely to provoke an angry response from Heaven, and I’ve worked very hard to keep Michael off my back. I don’t want to end up anywhere near the top of his list again,” Astaroth said.

    The car went silent while Sitri made his offer telepathically.

    Astaroth’s smile was wickedly delicious. She squealed and said, “Are you really prepared to cede that title?”

    “If you can actually accomplish it, and get Itzamná out of the picture? Absolutely. You’ll have earned it,” Sitri said. “But I’ll warn you now: you’re going to fail with Thomas Carver.”

    “Why are you so confident of that?”

    “Because he understands something that you never will, Astaroth,” Sitri said.

    Astaroth rolled her eyes.

    Sitri demanded, “Do you find the terms of our wager to be fair, Svipul?”

    Svipul responded, “A month to get rid of an angel as strong as Itzamná? That’s hardly fair, considering that you fouled up a simple wager, Sitri. You didn’t have to attack a Nephil and bring angels into this. She needs adequate time to put a plan in place. Otherwise, we’re all going to be in for it, and I don’t want Michael or any of the Cherubim or Seraphim on my back, either. Give her at least a year.”

    “A year, then,” Sitri agreed. “I’m still going to Market Street, though. I do rather enjoy making Thomas Carver believe that gangsters are after him. He should be back at work by now. Are we agreed to the terms of this wager, Astaroth?”

    “Agreed,” Astaroth replied.

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part V.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part III

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part II.

    Buena Vista Park, 1937.
    Buena Vista Park, near the Haight, in 1937.

    Allow me to clarify before I proceed: as I mentioned before, there are three different kinds of human hybrids. There are Epiklasmons, the feeble Nekudaimon-human hybrids; Anathemas, the children of Apokomistai and humans; and Nephilim, the children of angels and humans. Full humans have no innate means available to them to detect Anathemas and Nephilim because the hybrids look just like normal humans in every respect. The only way that they might be identified is though their superhuman strength and their extended lifespan. I will be happy to tell you more about Anathemas another time, but for now, please be contented with information on Nephilim. Like angels, Nephilim are filled with Grace, though in much smaller quantities, and that Grace is readily detectable to angels, demons and other Nephilim and one very special Anathema. Unless they are untrained in how to control the expression of their Graces, Nephilim are capable of shielding their thoughts from angels, demons and other Nephilim. They aren’t necessarily very common, for many angels have trouble with their fragility and mortality and thus cannot bear to watch their children die, but Nephilim have been a species that has coexisted among humans for many millennia.

    But now, please let us return to Thomas Carver. Or rather, Sitri in a Thomas Carver suit.

    Adelaide Grayson was an honest and very pretty young woman who lived with her mother and her grandfather at a boarding house that her family ran in the Haight. She was twenty-years-old in the autumn of 1935, when she first made the acquaintance of Thomas Carver. Thomas proposed to her on her twenty-first birthday in March, and they’d had a small wedding planned for September, on their first anniversary.

    Sitri showed up at the Grayson’s boarding house looking very much like Thomas Carver but acting nothing like him. He had to make a quick judgment on how to conduct himself to get Adelaide to break off the engagement and never see him again. He considered a number of scenarios—another woman, another man, striking her in front of her grandfather—and he had an idea in mind to accuse her of infidelity in front of her mother when he met up with her. Sitri as Thomas strode into the boarding house, issued an extremely rude statement to the widow Grayson at the front desk, and proceeded to the back of the house, where there Adelaide was hanging out the laundry in the yard. Adelaide, upon first glance, was ready to greet him with a smile and warm salutation when she saw that he who appeared to be her fiancé was in something of a temper. She inquired, “What’s the matter, Tom?”

    “You know exactly what the matter is,” Sitri replied.

    Adelaide was at a loss for what could be irking Thomas. She floundered to find a response.

    Sitri seized upon the silence, “I just met George Olivero.”

    “Who?”

    “Don’t play stupid, Adelaide. He knows you. In fact, he knows you better than I do, you cheap—” Sitri broke off. Something was very wrong. There was a stirring in the boarding house that was extremely unsettling to him. It was the distinct presence of a Nephil, and it approached with great speed.

    The Nephil descended the steps to from the back porch to the yard. She stared directly at Sitri and said, “Get away from her.”

    Adelaide said, “Rose, if you could please excuse—”

    “Who are you?” Rose ignored Adelaide.

    Sitri knew that he had been caught out. He debated calling Astaroth, but he knew that she would never let him live it down if he complained about a solitary Nephil complicating his plans. He reasoned that he was strong enough to take on the Nephil if it came to that, so he opted to continue with the ruse. “I’m Thomas Carver. Who do you think you are?”

    “You’re not Thomas Carver. Who are you?” Rose demanded. She produced a dagger made of angelic steel. “You know what this is, and you know what it can do to you. Get away from her.”

    Adelaide was extremely disturbed by Rose’s behavior and the presence of a weapon. She didn’t understand why Rose, who had been a boarder for more the previous five months, was threatening her fiancé. As far as Adelaide knew, Rose Nielsen had been a courteous and quiet young woman who worked as a stenographer. Adelaide said, “Rose, please. We were just having a—”

    Rose interrupted, “What have you done with the real Thomas Carver?”

    Sitri appraised the situation and realized that murdering a Nephil in front of Adelaide would better suit his purposes than a feeble accusation of infidelity. He produced a blade made of cursed steel and attacked the Nephil. Rose Nielsen, however, had been trained in martial arts better than Sitri had anticipated. He only succeeded in slashing up her arm with his cursed blade while Adelaide, the widow Grayson, Grayson the eldest and a few of the boarders screamed at the two of them to cease and desist with their violent skirmish.

    The false Thomas Carver ran out of the front door of the boarding house. Astaroth and Svipul were waiting in a car outside the boarding house. Astaroth remarked, “That was silly. You were almost bested by a 135-year-old Nephil. I’d be embarrassed for you if I didn’t think it was so funny. I have to wonder if you’re really trying to win this wager.”

    Sitri morphed back into a more familiar and comfortable form of an older, wealthy gentleman commanding of respect. He answered, “I still have twenty-two hours. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate a lift back to Market Street. It’s about time I visit Thomas Carver’s employer.”

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part IV.

  • Astaroth’s Wager, Part II

    Back to Astaroth’s Wager, Part I.

    San Francisco, Bay Bridge, 1935
    San Francisco, Bay Bridge, 1935, before it was finished. Lovely, wasn’t it?

    Svipul was used to being an adjudicator in Astaroth and Sitri’s wagers. She weighed in, “Astaroth—a task like the one you propose could take a lifetime. Give him at least forty-eight hours to accomplish it.”

    Sitri felt that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain with Astaroth’s wager. As he saw things, he would be allowed to propose a new wager to Astaroth within a day’s time, and he already had in mind something to make her suffer long for her prize. He argued, “No—it’s fine, Svipul. I lost my property fair and square, and here I have the chance to get it back as long as I can urge this young man into, what I’m presuming, is death by his own hand. Is that correct?”

    “That’s not necessary!” Astaroth replied. “In fact, it would be better if he were to die a natural death when he’s a miserable, bitter, old man whose life has been characterized by one disappointment after another. All you need to do is lift from him that obnoxious sense that there is such a thing as hope.”

    “Very well, then. I accept,” Sitri said. He didn’t have much time at all to dwell upon particulars. He raced forward to catch up with Thomas Carver, assuming the form of a large, thuggish man as he weaved his way in and out of the crowd. When he was within a few yards, Sitri lingered behind him to get a closer read of his thoughts. Thomas had been stricken by an impulse to eat, and he stopped at a luncheonette for a cup of coffee and a bowl of soup. Sitri waited until Thomas had been served, and then he entered the luncheonette. The demon didn’t introduce himself or extend any pleasantries to Thomas. He simply sat down opposite Thomas at the young man’s table for two, and he said in his most menacing human tone, “Mr. Lazzeri wants you to know that he’s expecting payment in full by midnight, Mr. Carver.”

    Thomas didn’t know how to react to the thug who had just invited himself to his table, and it was puzzling to him that this thug also knew his name. He responded, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

    Sitri said, “You’re Thomas Carver, yes?”

    Thomas replied, “Yes. And you—?”

    Sitri interrupted, “The Thomas Carver who lives on Pierce Street?”

    Thomas was flabbergasted. Sitri could gauge by his stunted thoughts that he was floundering for an explanation as to why the demon would know where he lived. “Yes, but—”

    “The one who plays dice with Mr. Lazzeri and his associates every Tuesday and Friday nights?”

    “Plays dice? No, I don’t play—”

    “Mr. Lazzeri knows who you are, where you live and just how much you owe him. He also knows about that pretty girl Adelaide Grayson—”

    “What?!” Thomas cried. He had no idea how gangsters could know this much about his life.

    “Yes, Miss Grayson. Your betrothed. He knows about her. So if you don’t have the seven thousand dollars you owe—”

    “Wait! Seven thousand dollars?!” Thomas was the definition of shock. He’d never even made $7,000 in an entire year, and he’d never had anywhere near that amount of cash around to give to dice gangsters. In fact, were you to account for inflation, it would amount to more than $100,000 at present. He lowered his tone and answered, “Mister—”

    “Mr. Olivero,” Sitri answered.

    “Mr. Olivero, there must be some mistake. I don’t play dice. You must have the wrong man,” Thomas insisted.

    “Mr. Lazzeri said you’d say that,” Sitri said, standing up. He took Thomas’s cup of coffee and took a sip. He said, “Good coffee. I’ll see you at midnight. Don’t even think of going to Mr. O’Halloran for protection or trying to weasel your way out of it.”

    Sitri turned his back on Thomas and walked out of the luncheonette, delighting in the flood of panicked thoughts that Thomas had spinning in his head. He stepped out into the throng of foot traffic and slowly morphed so that his appearance matched Thomas Carver. He had to look the part, as his next move was to visit Miss Adelaide Grayson.

    Dominus tecum.

    On to Astaroth’s Wager, Part III.

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