Glimpsing the Shroud - Part 3

"Okay, no, no way, absolutely not!"

"I would have warned you, but you agreed while I was still shaken up about her seeing you in the first place!" John groaned, leaning against the wall beside the front door and shaking his head.

"It's in my nature to be helpful!" Aria hissed, her voice laced with a frustration he’d never heard from her before. "You told me about the Order, but it's not like I know what they look like! I walked in in the middle of your conversation; I didn’t realize who that was when I made the offer, duh! You should have told her no, or said it wouldn't make you happy!" The incubus' skin was a little too white to tell if she'd gone pale, but the other signs were far easier to read. She'd been pacing anxiously since shortly after the drone left, as soon as John explained to her what she'd just agreed to.

"It was a little late for that. She already saw you; if we don't go now, it's just going to make her suspect that things are worse than whatever she's already thinking." John eyed the doorway, but there was no sign of the drone. It had taken off shortly after the call disconnected, either intentionally giving them some privacy or perhaps returning to an automated routine while Tricia handled whatever Moira threw her way.

"Maybe she doesn't know what I am?" Aria tried to sound optimistic, but her voice wavered on the very first word. "I mean, you said demons like me don't really exist here, or there, or... whatever! Yeah, maybe something else was bothering her! That could be it."

"I wish, but there are still depictions of demons, and you fit the classic mold. It's not like she could miss the horns. Or the tail." John tapped his head against the wall in frustration. "Maybe I should've had you alter your form after all."

"Of course you should have!" The blonde demoness whirled in a full circle while barely breaking her stride, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Who just lets an incubus walk around in their natural state while they're best friends with a bunch of demon hunters?!"

"They're not demon hunters, there aren't even-"

"Priests, clerics, paladins, holy knights, templars, inquisitors, whatever!" Aria huffed as she whirled around to face him again. "I told you before, top twenty-five worst case scenarios, Master! They like killing each other a lot when they get real zealous, trust me, but you know what they all hate more than each other? Demons like me! There's so much danger over there for someone like me, and you just agreed to walk me into it!"

"You're not going to be in any danger, Aria. I-"

"Oh, don't even try to sell me that one," Aria warned, wagging her finger disapprovingly at him. "It's a holy place! I'm going to be in danger the moment we set foot in there. Assuming I don't just, I dunno, burst into flames on the spot, or get stuck in a devil's trap, or whatever, even then, there's no way you can pretend I'm 'not gonna be in any danger'."

"I'll go back first, then. I'll go back, walk outside the grounds of the manor, and talk to Moira first. I won't even bring you over if I think she's going to do anything to you."

"Yeah, and what about when she has you all strung up and is pulling you apart so your insides burst out, until you agree to summon me, huh?" Aria was the only one who winced at the imagined scene, making an overplayed gagging noise as she depicted the ****.

"Our Father would rather die than allow one of us to come to harm." Sophia bristled noticeably, drawing herself up to her full height in response to Aria's words. "I understand that you are frightened, but do not question his loyalty, nor his care for us."

"Easy for you to say," Aria shot back. "You're not the one getting sent up against bald dudes that throw holy water and chant weird stuff at you."

"Is that what you think the Order is...?"

"Look, this is my first time in the mortal realm. I haven't actually seen demon hunters with my own eyes, but I know how bad they are! I've heard the stories from the others. Well, y'know, from the ones that actually survived and made it back." Aria's mannerisms became a little more subdued, but the anxiety and apprehension in her eyes was no weaker as she gently hugged herself and rubbed at her upper arms. "You can promise there's no danger all you want, but we both know that isn't true. And I can feel your emotions, buddy! I know you're not as certain as you say about how she's gonna take this."

John stayed quiet for a moment, his grimace giving away all that was needed for an answer. Moira had come a long way, but even he couldn't hold any real faith about this particular topic. Even if they were some new species that didn't exist naturally, even if Aria was in competition with Farrah for the most sickly-sweet creation he'd ever made, just the word 'demon' was tainted in his own mind after what Lord Brighton had explained to him. He could only imagine what Moira thought of the matter...

"But I need to handle this, now that it's out in the open." John knitted his brows at the uneasy resolution. "I have to. I'm not going to be able to work with Moira like this unless it's settled. The training will be off, maybe even the war. But... I didn't even ask if Farrah would be willing to go back, I shut it down immediately. I'd be a real piece of shit if I **** Aria to go while she's actively freaking out about it just to handle my mess..."

"What if you made a duplicate? You know, split yourself off like you did earlier. Then whichever one is the 'real' you could..." John let his words fall away from him as Aria began shaking her head before he'd fully explained his idea.

"No good," Aria said flatly once he was silent. "For one, there's not really a 'real' me when I do that. They're not illusions, I'm just kind of splitting myself into multiple pieces. And losing half of me would be bad enough, but holy magic and demon hunters target the essence, not just the physical body. Maybe if it was, like, one-thousandth of me, the link might be too weak to do much damage, but I can't split myself into nearly that many parts."

John nodded silently, his body tense and his gaze unfocused.

"I want to alter our pact," John said at last, nodding resolutely. "Can you do that?"

Aria's pacing stopped, her eyes lifting to meet John's. She didn't seem particularly surprised by his words, but there was no attempt to conceal the disappointment on her face.

"Yeah, I can. I get it, probably for the best." Aria sighed and lifted up her hand, ready to snap her fingers. "I'll cancel out our pact, Master. Should just take a second. Sorry for whatever happens when-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" John interrupted frantically, stepping forward, though the distance was too much to be crossed casually in any kind of hurry. "I said alter, not cancel!"

"Huh? I just thought you were trying to let me down gently. If you don't wanna end it, then why bring it up now?" Aria asked, hand frozen in place. "What's it got to do with this?"

"I want to make it stronger. More formal. What kind of magic can you weave into it, exactly?" John shifted slightly on his feet, stepping closer as Aria finally lowered her hand, still holding it in front of herself resignedly. "Can you add rules to it?"

"I can, but I'm an incubus, not a devil. I'm not that strong of one, either," Aria admitted with a shrug. "I can't make a deal to give you powers in exchange for stricter rules, or anything. I don't have the power for that, and... well, I'm not very good with that sort of thing anyway."

"I don't want anything in return except a little assurance for you," John explained, reaching up to take Aria's hand. "Alter the terms so that anything Moira does to hurt you happens to me, too."

"Wha-"

"Father, are you-"

"John, think-"

John lifted a hand, and the room fell silent, his gaze still locked with Aria's. There was still a look of apprehension on her face, but his declaration had startled her as much as the others, judging by the awe in her face as she spoke in a more measured tone.

"Y-you wanna do what?" Aria stammered, a slight flush blooming on her cheeks. "That's a nice thought, but, I mean, I'm not just worried about her."

"Then expand it so that you have nothing to fear," John encouraged, gently squeezing and rubbing along the knuckles of Aria's fingers.

"I mean, you have to be careful with these kinds of things. Once something is a part of a pact, it can't be broken without breaking the whole thing. And, for me, that means... well, y'know, Hell," Aria muttered. "You can't be overly broad. It has to be specific!"

"But the more specific I make it, the more worried you're going to be." Aria wriggled nervously rather than answer, which was all the confirmation John needed. "Arryaces bat Melkian, from now on, any harm, physical or mental, inflicted on you by Moira or any other member of the Order of the Golden Rose, will be inflicted on me as well. I accept these new terms of our pact, do you?"

"W-wow," Aria murmured. "You really mean it. And you used my true name and everything... Okay, um, in that case, I agree to these terms. And in exchange, I'll, uh, I'll teach you my summoning ritual!"

"Your summoning ritual? Why would I need that? You're already here," John pointed out with a confused half-smirk.

"Well, I was trying to think of stuff that I could offer you on short notice, but it's kinda already my job to make you as happy as I can," Aria explained with a quick shrug. "I could return the favor, but the Order isn't your enemy, so they're not gonna hurt you. And I can't exactly make the offer in general, that's way too risky. Especially with how often you go out fighting things."

"Point taken."

"And no offense, but we haven't exactly known each other all that long. So the big stuff, like giving up my right to break the pact on my end, would be kind of insane to do right now." Aria hesitated, her expression turning sheepish as she tried to make herself smaller and glimpsed at John out of the side of her eyes. "I mean, not that I think you'd **** it, but it's a big deal for us demons. Basically like marriage, but one-sided and with way worse consequences if things go south. To be completely honest, I didn't expect you to agree to something like what you just did so early on, either. Much less bring it up yourself..."

"It's not that big of a deal." John gave a modest wave of his hand, ignoring the pointed glares from around the room. "The Order isn't going to hurt you. Even if they tried, I wouldn't let them. But I understand why you can't just take my word for it, so... this seemed like a good way to reassure you."

"Well, um, thanks." Aria stood there for a moment, twirling a few strands of hair with one finger. It was the most off-balance he'd seen her since she’d first formed, and there was something in the demoness' mannerisms that struck him as almost impressed. "Anyway, this was the best I could come up with on short notice. A ritual is still pretty personal, since knowing it means that even if I do break the pact, you'd be able to summon me back anyway. There's ways to work around it, but... it's still a pretty big step. More like a promise ring than a marriage, maybe?"

"Trust for trust," John agreed, nodding.

"Yeah, exactly!" Aria nodded, her shaky smile returning to its usual glory as her golden locks bounced enthusiastically around her. "Plus, if I maybe get a little panicky and break the pact and, y'know, disappear, you can just summon me back that way!"

"Wait, you want to teach me right now?" John fought back a grimace, half-expecting the Warden to call him at any moment and ask what the delay was.

"Not teach. Maybe give a few pointers, answer some questions if you think it's complicated?" Aria said noncommittally, adding a shrug for good measure. "Mostly it's just writing it down and making sure you have a clear list of all the steps. I'm just an incubus, it's not like you have to go crazy precise on any of the little parts. No binding circles, no anti-possession runes, no wards to prevent soul tampering, none of that. Really, as long as you can paint in a kinda-sorta-straight line and don't cheap out on ingredients, it's no big deal. Two-day project if you know a good witch to source the materials."

"Not so sure about witches, but I'm sure I can figure something out. But, like I said-"

"You won't let it come to that. Right." Despite cutting him off, Aria didn't look nearly as skeptical as before, and some of her nerves even seemed to be easing up. "I think I even believe you this time. So... do we have a deal?"

"It's a deal."

Sealing their pact had been anything but a grand affair. If it weren't for Aria dissolving at the time and suddenly re-solidifying, he wouldn't have been sure anything had happened at all. This time, there was... something. John wasn't even sure exactly what it was. A glimpse of emerald, a flash of crimson, a spark that passed between their bodies in an instant. Something tangible, but too unfamiliar and too fleeting to recognize. Then Aria released him, flexing her fingers gently as she turned to the others.

"Okay. Well, that's that. So, right, uh, ritual time. Anyone got a pen and paper?" Aria chuckled nervously as she glanced around, meeting a mixture of disapproving, worried, and amused faces. Only Sophia seemed mostly unbothered, though her gaze lingered protectively over John, particularly his palm.

"That's the easy part done. Now for the real challenge."

---

The transition between his world and the old was smooth, as always. One moment, he was standing in his foyer; the next, he was back in the darkness of the small shed on the manor's front lawn. Silence hung in the air, and even the sound of the workers outside was absent, despite the fact he'd scarcely been gone longer than fifteen minutes.

"Everyone must have been pulled inside the manor. Fuck, I hope she hasn't got the whole place on lockdown or something," John mumbled, heaving a little sigh. "Does she think I'm a danger now? She looked furious. Why can't I just... not fuck things up for five minutes?"

"Yet when I ask you the same question, you always look so offended."

John physically jolted at the words, the unexpectedly soft voice of Moira coming from his side. In the darkness, John could just make out the shape of the Warden when he turned, seated on the grass and leaning up against the tin siding of the little garden shed. She didn't look happy, but she offered him a mimicry of a smile as she patted the spot beside her.

"Don't look so startled. I haven't barricaded myself inside the manor," Moira mused, her face so devoid of amusement it was difficult to say if that had truly been a joke. "Sit with me. We need to have a conversation."

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose we do," John agreed, forcing himself not to hesitate as he strode over to join her. Moira was in her full battle gear, but her shield and her hammer were stowed, still shrunken and dangling from the necklace she always wore.

"I must admit, I did not compose myself well during our call," Moira said when John finally settled into place. "My father has always told me that my temper was inherited from my mother... but that is no excuse for my lack of control."

"It's alright," John began softly, a little unsteadiness seeping into his voice. "I understand why you're upset."

"I know you do. That's precisely why I should have kept myself in check," Moira stated. Her voice was flat, but when she saw the twinge of confusion on John's face, her eyes solemnly shifted to the ground below. "My father told me some time ago that he had divulged the nature of my mother's **** to you. That he had explained the existence and nature of demons to you. Of... of infernals."

An involuntary shiver ran up John's spine, accompanied by a chill that lingered in his whole chest. John had never heard Moira speak with such hatred before, not even about the worst of their enemies. Moira noticed his reaction, even with her gaze angled downward. Her jaw clenched down hard, loosening only slightly as she gave a nod.

"I have made great strides in many ways since meeting you, but some things are ingrained too deeply for me to simply overlook them." Moira tilted her head back up to meet John's eyes, a steely **** present there, bereft of any emotion that he could discern. "John, I need to ask. Did you summon a demon?"

"Well, by summon-"

"Did you find a ritual, offer a sacrifice, and call her forth?" Moira asked, her voice stern and unyielding.

"What? No, I didn't do any of that! I just Purified a dungeon monster, that's all. And I wasn't even intending to…" John's protests and all his prepared defenses drifted wistfully away from him, until the last words were hardly even a whisper. As soon as she'd heard the word Purify, the tension in Moira's shoulders seemed to vanish in a single, shuddering exhale. But the relief was too sudden, too sharp. It didn't bring calm; it shattered her control.

"Of course you did," Moira whispered shakily, nodding once more. "I never doubted you. I know you wouldn't do something so sinister. No, of course she's not one of them. Just another of your creations." Her voice cracked on the last word, and a strange, sharp giggle escaped her lips. "Another silly, provocative harlot."

"Moira, that's..." John's eyes were beginning to adjust to the faint light creeping through the shed's imperfect doors. He fell silent when he caught sight of the glistening pools growing and wavering at the corners of her eyes... right as she began to laugh.

"Another fantastically gorgeous whore." The words began to tumble out of her, each one punctuated by a quiet, high-pitched giggle that sounded nothing like her usual, measured laugh. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at something over John's shoulder as if she were reciting a memorized, darkly comic list to distract herself. "Some new, impeccably beautiful trollop crafted to your tastes. Once more, a freshly crafted slut, fawning for your attention. Just one more breathtaking strumpet. That's all she is."

Her whole body began to shake uncontrollably, the laughter warring with choked-back sobs. The hardness in her eyes, the steel in her gaze, all of it crumbled away little by little, and behind those iron walls John saw a version of Moira he wasn't sure he'd ever faced before. One that more resembled a scared little child than any Warden of the Golden Rose. Moira's laughter became heart-wrenching as it blended with her sobs, accompanied by a quivering smile.

"Forgive me. I thought I could compose myself better through all this," Moira groaned, making an attempt to wipe away some of her tears that only smeared them across her cheeks. "I already knew what your answer would be. Yet for some reason, hearing it aloud still makes this so much easier."

"Moira, I'm sorry if-"

"John, I never truly doubted you. But it all happened so suddenly. I-I've never seen one of those things before, and all those memories just-" Moira took a shuddering breath, her chest rattling as her spasms continued through it all. "I needed to hear you say it. I know that it's stupid. I know about your abilities, and the creature that killed my mother looked human in his final moments, not like her. But for some reason, even knowing all that, when I looked at her, all I could hear in my head was that awful sound, that explosion that rang through the manor. And all I could think was... 'this is what she saw, right before'-"

The Warden's words had begun to break apart by that point, and the soft impact of the Gamer against her breastplate finished what little coherency she had left. Metal rattled slightly as John's arms wrapped ferociously around her torso, and Moira's own hands were clasped behind his back before she'd even realized what she was doing. In spite of the steadiness of their grips, Moira only shook more achingly as they held each other, grabbing **** fistfuls of his shirt as she sobbed into its collar.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." John gave the apology as Moira began to recover, as her shivers grew less heart-wrenching and the air rang less with the sound of each sob. "I was trying to avoid this, but I just made it worse."

"N-n-no," Moira managed to sniffle out after a few seconds of measured breathing. "I'm the one who should be sorry. You would have told me, but I never gave you a reason to think I could handle it. Because you know what I'm like. What I would have done, if I was still the same girl you met over a year ago. What I would be, if I hadn't met you."

"This isn't like that," John insisted, but Moira stifled the denial with the finger of one gauntlet, pressing the warmed metal firmly into his lips.

"This is exactly like that. You created her in the exact same way as your other creations," Moira cooed, her features still quivering, but her eyes no longer so hardened. "I never viewed them as people. Not until you showed me that they were different from the monsters I saw in my head. And... she's no different, appearance aside. It is only my stigmas that make it seem different. My burdens that still weigh so heavily on me, I have to ask if the man I treasure most in this world has done something unthinkable. Even after realizing that it's all my fault."

"Your fault?" John murmured the words as best as he could with Moira's finger still pressed against his lip. His obstinance actually seemed to amuse her, though there was no room for amusement within the torrent of emotions still flooding her features.

"I have taken the Order's teachings to heart since I was a child. After my mother's passing, I turned myself away from the merciful side of them. I viewed it as weak, as what had stolen my mother away from me. You know all this, and so does Tricia. That's why she kept your secret all this time. Because she knew it was reasonable to be afraid of me," Moira said pointedly. "You asked yourself if I thought you a danger when you arrived just now. You could not keep your eyes away from the shield as you sat next to me. You know that a year ago, I might've tried to have you imprisoned before even allowing you a chance to explain yourself, just as I would have used your abilities to make the Order an army, had they been mine to command."

"You're not that person anymore."

"And yet," Moira whispered, her arms growing weaker, but her hands clutching him as if she thought he might slip away at the slightest chance, "when I saw her, all those feelings came right back to the surface. Anger, hatred beyond measure. I knew I could control them, but when I saw the fear in your eyes, reflected again in Tricia's too, I realized that I was the only one who believed that. You both looked so terrified. I'm still so damaged that you thought I would turn on you, even after all this time. I…"

Moira cleared her throat as best as she could, swallowing down a weeping cry.

"...I thought I was better. I thought those scars had been healed."

"If they healed, we wouldn't call them scars." The admission wasn't something John hadn't thought to himself a dozen times over, but it still rang bitterly when he spoke it aloud. "Some things we have to carry with us forever. I don't blame you for being upset, Moira. And I'm sorry I've been keeping things from you."

"Your secrets aren't mine to steal. If you have more of them, keep them as you wish; I trust that you'll tell me in your own time, if you see fit. I just wish I hadn't caused you to keep this one through my own zealotry," Moira mumbled, her regret seeping into every word.

"It was my selfish fear as much as it was anything." John gave a reassuring nod as Moira finally pulled away, steadying herself against the wall of the shed. "I knew you were different. I told Aria as much—that she was never in any real danger, even once I told her about what the Order was."

"Oh, Lady, she didn't even know?" Moira groaned. "No wonder she was so... bubbly. Thank the Lady she was, though. I have to admit, it's... slightly harder to hold true anger against someone that smiles like that."

"Heh. I wish you could've met Farrah under better circumstances, then." John gave a smile that Moira couldn't quite return yet. "She's just as bad. And with better puppy dog eyes."

"You are truly something." Moira sniffled and rubbed at her reddened eyes, then her lips pulled tight and her expression regained something of its usual stiffness. "And speaking of such matters, my request wasn't a false one, John. I can't promise that I will always have the awareness to compose myself, but I promise you, John Newman, I won't bring harm to you or your creations. Nor will the Order. So, please, would you be able to convince Aria to help us inspect the manor? I must know if some enchantment lies concealed over our home."

"I already talked her into it. I just said that I'd come talk to you first." John leaned back from Moira, leaving one arm to rest on her bicep over the plate armor. "Cooldown should be just about done by now. I’ll bring her over as soon as we’re finished talking."

"You convinced a- a woman like her to willingly come here? After explaining to her what the Order is?" Moira mused, a wry chuckle wheezing its way from her lips. "How on earth did you manage such a feat in a handful of minutes, John?"

John's smile weaved its way into a grimace.