Binding Resolution

Adrian knelt in the barely recognizable mayhem that was his apartment, the summoning circle complete before him. In between him and it, the tome. In a moment of sober clarity, he took a look at what he had done to his home and it struck him how mad he would look to anyone who saw him just then. A gnawing sense of embarrassment clawed its way up out of his gut. He’d been pushing it down all day; longer, ever since he had begun to seriously contemplate this course of action. It was no longer possible to pretend that he was just hedging his bets. Adrian was going to try and contact the supernatural. It seemed absurd, and he desperately wanted to give up, to hide all the evidence that he had ever dared to take such childish delusions seriously.

Adrian steadied his breath. He’d come too far. Besides, the only thing that made him feel more foolish than trying this in the first place was the thought of having walked so far down the path only to give up at the finish line. Maybe nothing would happen and he’d go to bed feeling stupider than he ever had before in his life.

Or maybe not. The book’s presence was undeniable. In his head? Maybe. But undeniable all the same.

Adrian took a breath and steeled himself. This wasn't the time to doubt. He swore to himself that, whatever misgivings he may have, he would choose to believe in this completely, at least until he knew for sure whether or not it would work.

With nerves like a wound-up spring, he reached his right hand out to rest on the book’s leathery, black cover. Immediately his worries evaporated, replaced by pressing fear. As his hand made contact there came a sense of…a presence. One that was impossibly distant but also right there with him in the very room. It was sinfully gleeful, languid yet coiled like a snake.

It was dangerous.

Unwilling, unable, to give up, Adrian pressed on. He began to recite the words of the ritual, which he had practiced ad nauseum in small, out-of-order parts. Unfamiliar syllables burst forth from his lips in a staccato rhythm. The ominous presence began to draw nearer, like a dog stalking toward the gate of its pen. As he neared the end he could have sworn, would have bet his life on it, that there was someone just behind his shoulder. He could feel the breath on his neck. His hair prickled as he felt fingers wind around his arm, holding him tight.

And then he was done. The presence vanished like the slamming of a door. For one brief moment, he was just a silly, sick man alone in his ruined apartment.

Then came the pain.

It felt like his mind was being sandblasted by the sun. Like it had been wrapped up in a towel and wrung out. His thoughts hurt. It was the most surreal and unbearable experience he could have ever dreamt up.

Somehow, he knew that all he would have to do to make it stop would be to give up. All he had to do was relinquish what he had started and he would be allowed to walk away. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that he needed this cure. It wasn’t just that if it didn’t work he’d feel the fool. Adrian couldn’t give up because now this was a challenge. Something was telling him that this was not for him, and Adrian had decided that he’d heard that just one too many times in his life. This time, he was going to take what others would deny him.

As Adrian's resolve strengthened, he began to push back against the vice that had tightened around his mind. Inch by terrible inch the pain gave ground. He realized that he had been practicing for this; his spasms paled in comparison to the war he now fought, but it was only a difference in degree, not kind. Adrian knew how to handle pain. Mentally, he concentrated his will into a cudgel and launched a furious offensive. Then, all at once, like stumbling off a cliff, the **** that assaulted him gave way.

An explosion of bright agony blossomed inside his skull. His eyes screwed shut and his hands pressed against his temples as he collapsed to the ground. Slowly, too slowly, it left him. His breath was short, his sweat-drenched body felt chill, and his muscles ached, but the misery receded. Adrian was embraced in the utter euphoria that is the absence of pain. Gingerly he picked himself up, settling onto his knees, and blinked the stars from his vision.

He wasn’t alone.

There was a woman, or maybe a creature, standing in the center of the room. It stared at him, its chin resting on a six-fingered fist, and evaluated him from behind crimson, serpentine eyes whose irises wavered in an unseen wind. The sharp, elegant lines of its cheekbones lent it an ethereal air of aristocratic authority. Its skin was porcelain white, interrupted here and there by midnight black tattoos, swirling their way up to form a crown on its gleaming, bald pate. A deep red evening gown had been draped off of it, clinging to the impossibly perfect curves of its form. It was like the stars, a beauty best appreciated from afar lest he burn up for the hubris of thinking it was ever for him to behold.

There came then a clack in the otherwise deathly silent room as it stepped, feet hidden by the hem of its dress, towards the edge of the summoning circle. As it slowly drew near, hips swaying hypnotically, Adrian was overcome by the smell of burnt lavender. A single foot slid slowly from beneath the folds of its garb, misshapen and tipped in talons, to gently prod the edge of the chalk that encircled it.

In a flurry of motion that Adrian couldn’t have hoped to follow the creature suddenly raged at that chalk-outlined threshold, fingers gouging furrows in an invisible wall that sprouted from the entrapping circle. Adrian scrambled back, desperately trying to keep his footing. By the time he had succeeded, the onslaught had stopped and the creature appeared as composed as a queen. Its previous burst of fury was only a memory; one that it was hard to imagine had ever even happened.

Over the sound of his beating heart, Adrian listened as it spoke. “Hello,” it said in a lilting singsong. “Excellent work. Very well done. What is your name, candidate?” It favored him with a smile that stretched just a little too far across its face. That smile was hungry, he noticed with a shiver. For what he couldn’t begin to guess. For everything, he imagined.

“My name is Adrian.” His voice was strong, though his mouth was dry. “I want to make a deal.”

It narrowed its eyes. “No formalities? A little rude. Someone will need to teach you manners.” Adrian began a response but was cut off. “I am Araqiel, but then you would have to know that I suppose.” Seeing the confusion on his face, it asked, “Did you not?”

“I…no. I didn’t really know what to expect.”

That seemed to surprise it. Then, it laughed. “Truly? All the more impressive then. You’re putting up a good show so far, candidate.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You really don’t know what you’re playing at, do you? First, tell me about this deal you want to strike.”

Adrian composed himself. This was it, his moment. “I’m sick,” he started. “It’s a genetic disease. Degenerative. My body…it’s going to fail. It’s already started. Over the next few years, I’m going to wither away. I want to stop it.”

Araqiel nodded. “First I will tell you the bad news. I am not a simple spirit of the script. I do not debase myself with the mere exchange of tit for tat. I am not even a soul broker, given to trade in matters of life and ****. I am an Archon of the House Lust, I head a court, and such things are beneath me. You will have no exchange with me.”

Adrian’s heart sank, but he beat back despair. “If that’s the bad news, what's the good news?”

“I have an opening in my court, and as I have already told you, you are an excellent candidate.”

“You want me to…work for you?”

“Yes,” it said simply. “Each of a House's thirteen archons has the privilege of appointing a knight. At this moment, I am without. I’m surprised you didn’t know this. The ritual you performed was your application.”

“And if I accept…you’ll cure me?”

Araqiel gave a nod. “Your body will be proof against such things as mortal illness, yes.”

Adrian thought. He had expected to have to give something up to get what he wanted. This wasn’t so different. “What would I need to do?” he asked.

“You would advance my interests here on Earth. It would be subtle work, mostly. The Houses don’t like to move too openly. Your jobs would be many and varied, but always to work towards expanding my influence.”

“Would I need to hurt people?”

“You would need to pressure people. Manipulate them, **** them perhaps, box them into corners certainly, or perhaps use a lighter touch to nudge them in the right direction. Collateral damage is best kept to a minimum. **** is only a preferred option against those who are already in the game, so to speak.”

Adrian chewed on its words. “In my experience,” he told it, “bosses like to undersell what's expected of you.”

“Do not mistake me,” Araqiel said. “This is a burdensome role to fill. Your life will change. It will be all that you are. But for whatever it is worth, know that all that I tell you is true, for I cannot lie. It is not something that I am capable of.”

Adrian doubted that. Lying seemed like exactly the sort of thing a demon - and it was beginning to be clear that that was what this thing was - would do. Besides, even if it was telling him the truth, that didn’t mean that it was telling him the whole truth. But it wasn’t a point worth pressing. It wasn’t like there was a way to prove that it could lie.

Swallowing hard, Adrian mulled his options over one final time. This was what he had wanted, he reminded himself. He could hardly believe it was happening. If anything the situation was too surreal to grapple with. He felt overwhelmed. A fish doesn’t wonder about aerodynamics when it finds itself piloting a jet. He should be freaking out, but he was so dumbfounded by the creature's otherworldly presence that it was difficult to stay focused on the task at hand.

“What about…I don’t know, my soul? Is that a thing?” It felt ridiculous to ask, but given the proof before his eyes that there was more to the world than he had ever known it felt even more ridiculous not to worry about it.

Araqiel laughed lightly. “In a manner of speaking, yes, there is something like that. After the end of your mortal time, you will join me. The experience won’t be anything like life. It isn’t something you can understand. But you won’t suffer if that is your concern. Hell as you imagine it is not real. You will be quite privileged, actually, as far as such things go. As a reward for your service. Assuming, of course, that you do not somehow make the grave mistake of displeasing me.”

Adrian knew he should have a million questions, but it was difficult to bring anything specific to mind. The revelation he found himself experiencing left him completely unmoored.

In a moment of honesty, Adrian admitted to himself that his mind was already made up. He had worries, but no doubts. He was never going to walk away, back to an all-to-short life filled with misery; he was always going to say yes.

“Ok,” he said at last. “I’ll do it.”

Araqiel smiled. “Good. Then take my hand.” It extended its arm, fingers never crossing the threshold of the circle.

A thought niggled at the corners of Adrian’s mind. “Wait. If I cross the line, can you go free?” Memories of that brief moment of Araqiel raging, tearing at the edges of her cell, played in his vision. Adrian suppressed a shudder.

“Good instincts,” it lauded. “Yes. I will no longer be restrained if you break the seal. I would be free, if I wished, to tear you apart. It is lucky for you then that I instead wish for you to work for me.”

That was a hell of a thing to admit, Adrian had to concede. Maybe it really couldn’t lie.

The danger merited some consideration, but again, Adrian had to acknowledge that he was going to go through with it anyway. To back away now would be an unbearable act of cowardice. Besides, his life was on a clock. What would be the point of acting scared?

Stepping forward, Adrian reached across the narrow line on his linoleum floor which was all that separated him from a monster. He clasped its hand, pale skin so hot to the touch that it felt like ice. He tensed, waiting for the creature to strike, but the moment never came. Instead, a sensation like being skewered on a fish hook punctured through the center of his chest. He gasped as it wormed its way deeper and embedded itself into his very center. Molten steel fired through his veins, suffusing him with an energy and a drive to do something, anything. Then came the whispers. A choir of raspy voices made demands of him that were too overcrowded to distinguish individually. Here and there words broke through, but no complete thoughts.

Araqiel’s demeanor changed. Gone was the bemused specter of a being too powerful to know fear. In its place came a serious countenance. Araqiel's eyebrows pushed down in a way that let him know that it had something important to say. “It is done. There is no backing out. Now you must learn what we face.”

That didn’t sound good.

Araqiel continued, “I have been trapped by the Archon Kyriakos of the House Patience for three hundred years. That was its will you breached to summon me here. Now that I am no longer bound it will seek me out. Before long you will find yourself confronted by the Enduring Knight. Kyriakos is too bitter an enemy to let my newfound freedom go unmolested.”

The bitch had tricked him then. Had he just signed on to a sinking ship? “You’re going to have to go slow for me here,” he told Araqiel. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

“The Enduring Knight, whoever it may be at this time, serves Kyriakos the same way you now serve me. Our rivalry extends back a long time. He will come for you, to limit my power.”

“So we have an enemy. What should I expect?”

“It’s hard to say. We will need to move fast to prepare ourselves for when their plan unveils itself. I will try to find allies for you. Fortunately, the House Patience is not known for rash behavior. We will have time enough to build you up to your potential. The first step will be to finish your knighting.”

“Isn’t that what we just did?”

“No. The pact is bound but you are not yet knighted. To do so I must bestow upon you an artifact of power. Before my imprisonment, I had such an artifact. It has since been claimed by another. We will need to find a replacement before you can access your powers.”

“So I just sold you my soul," Adrian growled, "and you can't even hold up your end of the bargain?”

“If you are worthy of being my knight this hurdle will pose little difficulty. I will uphold my promise to you, rest assured.”

“You had better,” he grimaced, though he didn’t have a clue what he would do if it didn’t. “So I need to get an artifact then.”

“Yes. My court reports three good options to me. First is a sword, wielded in battle by a Knight Templar. It is kept in the collection of a museum some distance north of here. With it, I could raise your physical prowess beyond that of normal men. You would be stronger, faster, more dangerous.

“Second is a necklace, worn by a witch of Salem while she was burnt at the stake. It is currently in the collection of an oil mogul's wife. The gemstones are quite impressive. With it, I could grant you dominion over those elements of nature that fall under my purview. Fire, lightning, wind.

“Third and final is a cloak worn on the night of the Gunpowder Plot. It has been forgotten, but I know the region in which it lies. With it, I could bestow upon you honeyed words with which to stoke or smother the passions of men, as well as bind you to shadow to obscure your deeds.

“If you need assistance in your decision you may consult the members of my court. Our court, now. You will surely hear them already.” Araqiel smiled slyly. “Their advice is often offered unbidden.”

The whispers in Adrian’s head picked up at their mention. Sword. Amulet. Cloak. These words cut through the cacophony as the spirits bid for his attention. “Is that what this is?” Adrian asked. “When do they go away?”

“They do not. You are tied to them now. It will become easier to bear. Trust me on this, I hear them also.”

Adrian didn’t know about that. It was maddening the way they closed in on him, insisting on one choice or another. Something else Araqiel hadn’t mentioned in the deal.

“You should gather your squires,” Araqiel continued. “To assist you.”

“My squires?” Adrian asked. The voices rose to answer him. Lareina. Faith. Amira. Names that he didn’t recognize. Then more. Christine. Rhys. Ivy. A cold feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach.

“Your squires, yes, of course,” Araqiel said. “Where are they now?”

“There was nothing in the book about squires,” Adrian insisted, growing worried. “Do you mean the people I collected the offerings from?”

Araqiel frowned. “My text was quite clear. You were to choose six squires to assist you in your knightly duties.”

“It was definitely not clear," he said pointedly. "I had no idea that was what I was doing. I barely even know these people!”

“That will need to change. They are yours now,” Araqiel said bleakly, “and through you, they are as bound to me as you are yourself. Your strength lies in them and vice versa.”

Fantastic. Just great. Adrian was now going to have to explain to a bunch of people he had almost nothing to do with that he’d sold their souls to a demon to save his own life. He could have laughed. That was sure to go down easy. Where the hell do you even start with something like that?

Seeming to follow his thoughts, Araqiel offered some advice. “Begin small. One or two squires should suffice for this first task. Once you are properly knighted it will be easier for them to see the order of things. Certain evidence will be…difficult for them to deny.”

“You feel like clarifying?”

“They will inherit powers from you, weakly at first but they will grow alongside your own. There will also be…changes.”

“Stop beating around the bush,” Adrian said, beginning to grow frustrated. “I’m in this. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“You’re right of course. I apologize, withholding information comes easily to a creature that can’t lie, you understand. The same energies that give you and your squires your newfound abilities will also work to reshape you into the image of our House.”

“The House of Lust,” Adrian clarified, recalling what Araqiel had mentioned earlier.

“Yes,” it confirmed. “That will mean something different for each of you. I have a rather unconventional arrangement within my court. I allow the spirits who serve me to have some manner of control over this process; most Archons either assume control directly or leave it to chance. This privilege endears my servants to me. I suspect it is no small part of why so many have chosen to remain in my court despite my long absence. They delight in it.” Araqiel trailed off. “Still, I am much depleted.”

Adrian’s heart raced. “What kinds of changes are we talking about here?” he asked. He could make out lurid suggestions from the crowd of whispers.

“It is difficult to tell,” Araqiel answered. “Small ones at first. Perhaps you will be made taller. Perhaps your squires made more busty. As you come into your full power as a knight the bond between you and I will deepen, and the transformations will become more pronounced. Time will tell.”

Stupid to trust a demon, he cursed himself. Still, better a body twisted by spirits than one withered by disease. He regretted that the people he had taken offerings from might suffer as well...but not enough to try and undo what he had done. Still, he resented that the full terms hadn't been made clear to him before he had struck the bargain. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Some other price I have to pay that you failed to mention.”

To her credit, Araqiel thought it over, placing a finger on her chin in a maddeningly nonchalant gesture. “No. I don’t think so. Your new mortal enemy, the reshaping in our image…oh, and the squires, but you should have known that from the start so it isn’t really something I intended to hide from you. That should be it.”

“Well if that’s it then,” Adrian spat. Araqiel nodded solemnly to confirm that it was, either missing or choosing to ignore his bitterness. A thought occurred to Adrian. “You’ve mentioned the Houses of Lust and Patience. There are others?”

“Yes. You now serve the House Lust. Arrayed on our side of the Great Divide are the Houses Idolatry, Avarice, Discord, Indulgence, Wrath, and Pride. Our often-times opponents are the Houses Patience, Faith, Charity, Concord, Chastity, Temperance, and Humility. Each embodies that for which they are named.”

“There’s an entire House for not having sex? It’s that big of a deal? Seems like maybe they should be our enemies instead of Patience.”

Araqiel pursed its lips. “A better translation might be ‘Purity’. This is my first time conversing in English, so my choice of words might be uncharacteristically imprecise. Understand also that the domain of our own House similarly expands beyond the carnal. Lust is about experiences, it is about life itself and grasping for all that it has to offer.

“As to your second question, yes, we are often in conflict with the House Purity. But nobody holds a grudge like Patience. Rivalries with them do not die, they merely sleep.”

Adrian took a deep breath. “I…have a lot to think about.”

Araqiel nodded. “Rest. Bringing me here has exhausted you. It was no simple thing to breach the seal that bound me. Your will is impressive, but, understandably, you need to recover. In the meantime, plan. Much is required of you. Do not tarry.”

“Right. Because of the knight coming to find me.”

“Yes.”

Adrian looked around at the mess his apartment was in. “Um…do I…do you need a place to stay?”

Araqiel laughed with its whole body. “No, no. I will return now to my court. Thank you, incidentally, for freeing me. I acknowledge this debt.”

Those words sounded weighty. No small thing, he figured, to have a demon owe you a favor. “Don’t suppose you need a cab then?” he asked.

“I’ll see myself out,” it said with a smirk. “You'll hear from me soon.”

Araqiel vanished, there one second gone the next. Adrian couldn’t help but figure that there should have been a puff of smoke or something. The effect was eerie.

Left with the cold reality of all that he had just been through, Adrian found himself in mute disbelief. How was any of this real? How was it happening to him? It was almost too easy to imagine that it had all been in his head.

He had done it though, he realized. He had actually done it. A mad laugh began to bubble out of his chest. Somehow, his unreasonable faith in that stupid book had saved his life. Of course, now he had an entirely new set of problems to deal with, like his new mortal enemy. Or, he thought with a frown, like cleaning up all the chalk and candle wax off of his floor. Whatever. He wasn’t ever getting that security deposit back anyway.

Did being a knight of lust pay? He should have asked.

Adrian marched his weary form over to the wall his mattress rested against and knocked it down to the floor. He was more tired than he’d ever been in his life. Araqiel had been right; whatever he’d done to get it here, whatever that had been that he’d had to push through - Kyriakos’ will, she’d said - it had left him exhausted down to his bones. Beyond even. He didn’t bother to set his bedframe back up, he just collapsed directly onto the mattress.

One last task for the night, he thought. Figuring out how to sleep with all these spirits whispering in his head. It turned out to be easier than he'd expected.