Conference Call

Adrian got home and kicked off his shoes. Things were not going well. His plan to remain uninvolved with the squires was a disaster. In one day he’d managed to tell Rhys everything, ruin his relationship with Christine, and allow himself to be talked into seeing a movie with Ivy.

That last one stung. How hard would it have been to just tell her no? Oh, I’m sorry Ivy, but I have work that day. It should have been that easy, but she’d seemed so happy to invite him that he hadn’t had the heart. Now he’d have to find a way to weasel out of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he did, but his being around her wasn’t going to be good for either of them. If things were different he’d have been glad to hang out, but as they were, it couldn’t happen.

That was a problem for another day, though. Tonight, he needed to speak with Araqiel. If there was one thing he’d realized it was that he needed to get his shit together. That meant drawing up a plan of action, and for that, he needed information that only Araqiel could give him.

Unfortunately, he had no idea how to go about that. The spirits seemed to be able to hear his thoughts, at least when he wanted them to, but if Araqiel had the same power it wasn’t choosing to respond. The ritual he’d used to summon it the first time was out too; the full moon had passed.

Adrian kicked a discarded pair of pants across his floor in frustration. Maybe if he had handled Christine better she could have helped him find the answer in the book. Instead, there he was, all on his own.

Not completely, of course. There were the whispers. Always there were the whispers. He worried that it would drive him insane; they never stopped. It was worse when he let them out of the mental cage he kept them locked up in, stored away as far back in his mind as he could manage. Keeping his guard up against them was exhausting, but when he didn’t he could feel them pick at his thoughts as they rummaged around in his brain. It was uncomfortable. Invasive.

Now though, regrettably, was one of the times that bringing them out was justified. He needed to know how to contact Araqiel, and he was willing to bet that they could tell him. Reluctantly, he posed the question.

The spirits were quick to take advantage of their freedom. “On your knees.”

“Light a candle.”

“Say its name thrice, then wait.”

He hated the way they did that, taking turns speaking. It made his skin crawl, like talking to a swarm of piranhas. With his question answered, Adrian shoved the spirits aside, ignoring their protests, and went about doing as they’d instructed.

He felt stupid kneeling there in the middle of his floor. Some part of him still worried that this was all a trick, that he’d look like an idiot for buying into it, but he was in way too deep to have any real doubts left. He spoke Araqiel’s name three times, then waited.

It was some time before anything happened. Adrian’s knees had started to hurt and he began to worry that the spirits had lied to him. He was just moving to stand when Araqiel appeared before him, instantly and without fanfare in that disconcerting way it had.

“Stay kneeling,” it said. “It is the proper etiquette for such things.”

Adrian complied, unwilling to test what would happen if he was rude to a demon. “After all the work it took to get you here the first time, I didn’t think it would be so easy to bring you back.”

“For most, it would not be. You are special now, though. I can hear your summons, and,” it said pointedly, “I deign to answer. Now speak. My time is precious.”

Adrian licked his lips and assembled his thoughts. “I’ve tried to do as you said. I’ve got one of my…squires…on board, but the other turned me down.”

“The spirits are at work,” Araqiel stated dryly. “She will come around. You selected your assistants wisely, incidentally. Your existing camaraderie with them will strengthen the effects of the bond, weak as it currently is.”

Not one to give up unexpected credit, Adrian just nodded. “Alright, well, even Christine does stop hating me, I have no idea what to do next.”

Araqiel cocked an eyebrow. “You think me your advisor? You are meant to take on my burdens, not the other way around.”

“All I'm asking for is a little direction.”

“Do the spirits of our court not offer such direction?”

“I’m trying to avoid them if I can,” he admitted with a wince.

That seemed to amuse Araqiel, but her answer was as stern as a chiding parent. “You do not fully understand your position yet. You are now quite a high-ranking member of this court. Those spirits serve you. It is not wise to leave a weapon unwielded when your options are few.”

“You’re telling me to talk to them?”

“As I said earlier, a knight I need to direct by hand is no useful knight. I am informing you that you are not making full use of your resources.”

Adrian breathed out, just short of a huff. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll ask. Which artifact should I go after?”

The voices perked up at once, many shouting conflicting advice. Araqiel watched Adrian’s displeasure with wry amusement. Eventually, a consensus began to emerge.

“The amulet’s powers are too bold.”

“Difficult to employ with subtlety…”

“And we are a subtle House.”

“The sword is well guarded.”

“You are not yet ready for such a risky plan.”

“Your powers are not yet in bloom.”

“So the cloak then?” Adrian asked.

“The cloak,” they agreed. “Yes.”

“We look forward to your work.”

This time the voices went away easily. He got the impression they were grateful to have been used.

“There,” Araqiel said. “You are sated?”

“Not really,” Adrian replied. “You said you knew roughly where the cloak was?”

“Yes. It is reported to me that the cloak rests near a small village in the Scottish highlands, named Kravisburgh.”

“Scotland,” Adrian said flatly. “How am I supposed to get to Scotland?”

“I thought such journeys were mundane for you humans these days.”

“I can book a flight,” Adrian explained, a little exasperated, “but I don’t have the money to pay for the tickets. Three tickets, if you’re right about Christine. And there’s no way I'm going to be able to convince them to come if they have to pay for their own.”

“Hm.” Araqiel seemed unhappy. “I can solve this problem for you, but do not grow to depend on such largess. My funds are limited, and most are required elsewhere.” It then produced a small, green gemstone, four or five of which could have fit on Adrian’s pinky nail. He took it from her, marveling at the purity of its sheen.

“Thanks,” he said, grateful, but surprised at the form of currency. He supposed it would have been weirder if Araqiel had handed him a stack of bills, though.

“We are done then?” Araqiel asked.

Adrian thought it over. “Yeah, I’ll…go to Scotland, I guess.”

“Do not fail,” Araqiel warned. “We have some time yet to prepare for Kyriakos, but not so much that we can afford to be wasteful. Do your duty. And one thing more, do not disturb me until the task is complete. I have much to do in reestablishing myself. I cannot afford any distractions.”

Adrian nodded. "Understood."

Araqiel disappeared back to wherever it was that it stayed. It had said that hell wasn’t real, but Adrian had a hard time imagining somewhere else that Araqiel might call home.

He stared down at the emerald in his palm. He’d have to sell it somehow. A pawn shop wouldn’t give him full price, but he didn’t know what else to do. Did jewelers buy gemstones?

He was distracted from that train of thought by the sound of his phone vibrating on the counter. His weary knees were relieved as he stood and walked over. The message previewed on his home screen: “I think we should talk.” From Christine. The spirits had come through after all; Adrian worried about how they’d pulled it off.

Possibly stirred by their mention, the spirits chose that moment to begin rising up. It started like a gentle knocking on his mind's door. Perhaps they expected him to let them in since he had just done so earlier, but Adrian wanted nothing to do with them.

Their efforts to breach his mental defenses grew stronger. They pounded now, demanding to be let in. Adrian held firm. His skin began to tingle like pins and needles. The spirits screamed, insisting that he give in. Adrian was worried. The tingling was starting to turn to numbness. He had no idea what this was, but he was not going to let it happen to him.

With a huge mental effort, he pushed back against the spirits. Surprised by his **** of will, they retreated. He took in labored breaths, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and rested his arms on his knees. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up.