The Heavenly Host

Lilith laughed. “Yes, that’s quite likely, I’m afraid. Maybe I should not have invited him to stay with me. Not if he is going to have unexpected visitors.”

“Assuming he comes, which you do say you aren’t sure of. Of course, I do not blame you. If this demon is smart, he won’t accept your hospitality.” Lilith glared at him. “Not that you are a bad host, but that you clearly have ulterior motives. Everyone who has ever met you knows that.” Asmodeus took another sip of wine.

“In any event, I’ve assigned two of my best to secretly follow Antefalken to find out where this Tom’s cave is,” Lilith told him.

“Again, a cave. This must be a safe house, a ruse location to distract us from his true seat of power, the location of which would clue us in as to his background and allies.” Asmodeus paced around the carpet. “But if it is a rendezvous point, still good to know. Your minions will be discreet?”

“I sent Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,” Lilith replied.

Asmodeus nodded. “Excellent. Those two are exceedingly loyal, as I recall. You’ve had them for almost as long as I’ve known you.” The demon prince paused for a moment. “Wait, weren’t they disintegrated a century or so ago in that whole Dark Shibboleth affair on the moon of that gas giant orbiting Tau Ceti in the Alderen universe?”

Lilith thought for a moment. “Yes, that’s right. No mind, I had them re-imprinted on two other demons I decided to repurpose. It is not the first time I have had to do it. None of my Rosencrantzes and Gildensterns have lasted more than a few centuries. Being in my service can be dangerous. I make no secret of it.” She tilted her head back to swallow the last drops from her glass.

“More blood wine?” Lilith asked as she moved back to the wine cart.

“Certainly, my dear. It is an excellent vintage; it has a nice blend of male agnostic virgin and female atheist slut. A very hard combination to blend, but your winemaker is clearly a genius.”

∼

They were finally getting close to home, such as it was. Reggie was a slow flyer. He also kept falling out of the sky, so they had to fly low. This had made the journey much longer once they reached the mountains. Tom did have to admit that Reggie’s first attempt, in which he fell like a stone and landed up to his thighs in rock, had been amusing. That probably would not get old, even though it did cause his legs to ache in sympathy.

Of course, before that he had had to run through the same Q amp; A session that Boggy had provided him on the nature of demons and the Abyss. Not to mention his own story, or at least an exceedingly abbreviated version of it. He really only told Reggie the parts about the Abyss and sort of skipped most of the stuff in Astlan because he wanted to get them moving, figuring once they were back at the cave, there would be time for the rest of the story.

Surprisingly, Reggie initially was not that appalled by the thought of being a demonic sex slave. He did like sex. He had not really gotten much in Harding, which Tom interpreted as being none. Of course, his enthusiasm changed quickly when they got to the part about his body on Earth being dead, like Tom. Reggie had suddenly gone pale, or at least as pale as he could get.

“You mean my folks are going to find me in bed with my pants around my ankles and my hand around my junk, in flagrante, and dead from a pot overdose?” Reggie had asked incredulously.

“You can’t really die from a pot overdose,” Tizzy commented. “It’s the batty wizards slicing your silver cord that kills you.”

“Afraid so,” Tom had replied, ignoring Tizzy.

At that point, Reggie had made a bawling noise, dropped to the ground, curled up into a fetal position and cried. It was definitely embarrassing for the poor incubus, Tom mused. Oddly, he felt bad for Reggie. He had tried to keep thoughts of Reggie out of his head since he had arrived, but he’d been really pissed at the guy for giving him the weed. On occasions, he had had some revenge fantasies very similar to this, but the real thing was a letdown. To be fair, it was a horribly embarrassing way to go, much worse than Tom’s demise.

However, on the other hand, for some reason, Reggie had tear ducts and could cry. Although, where the water was coming from was a mystery, and why it did not evaporate in the super-heated air was also a mystery. How many times had Tom wanted a good cry?

In any event, they, or rather Tom, eventually got him up and convinced him to come back to his cave. Tizzy was not particularly helpful. He did not seem to like Reggie too much. Tom wondered if Tizzy was jealous; it was hard to tell with the octopodal demon. He was rather insane, after all.

They stopped at the top of the last mountaintop before the cave to wait for Reggie to catch up after his latest fall.

“This is spoiled buttah,” Tizzy ranted in his yenta voice.

“What is?” Tom asked. Tizzy pointed to Reggie. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Don’t trust him. I think he is crazy. I think he lies too.”