Invitation

Amy, Angel of Magic

Pardominion

A fallen angel of darkness hummed in her dour chambers.

“Doo-doo-doodoo-doodoo. Stitches here, stitches there, temple’s blade, and shadow’s fade.”

She worked deftly, knitting the empty familiar demon flesh with her power.

“two stitches, three stitches, four stitches, five, hang all of the snitches, drown all of the witches, something-something and I can’t remember the liiiine… Doo-doo-doodoodoodoo.”

Amy was not an Angel of Song by any means. Her memory of specific songs was one mass jumble of tunes. Where one began and the other ended was a labyrinth mystery.

She spread the demon husk across the table, thumbing through fiber and suture.

“Uh, Amy- Master. Will Revent be- um, uh. Well?”

A grubby lizard eyed her curiously, bracing on two legs against the table. A swift bonk from her mighty gauntleted hand sent him to the floor.

“Yup! Get down!” she chimed in cheerfully.

It had become almost second nature to bash Gup’s skull. It was difficult to tell who was training who. Her demon thief was growing, albeit slowly. He whined, rubbing at his head as he grasped his dragon scale dimensional bag.

She gripped the demon horn, gently fitting it to the socket along the forehead. It clicked in place beautifully. She gently felt its helmet-like skull, admiring her work. Corsairs appeared to be a more modern demon for a modern time; as if battling humans with quantum technology birthed a new breed of demon.

Revent had taken a fatal hit, almost completely destroying him. She had little memory on how that happened exactly, but it was a good test of her abilities to make and remake the Corsair demon. Revent had been one of her personal favorites. She had butchered ten of her other special class demons to repair him, but they were mooks and thus expendable. The demons she could summon were always the building blocks for others.

“The mistress works her craft, witness her brilliance!”

The high-pitched stoney oval demon chanted, positioned at the round table from behind her. She liked Bleph, her demon of Sloth, Morpheous, Oneirist, Indomitable, and Vitality. His was a strange combination of skills. Like a mixture of a sleepy absent prophet and a tank without treads. He as a lump.

Slight ringing rang out at the round table.

“Are we going to work? Slaughter? Butcher, perhaps?” another bassy demon let out a death-rattle chuckle of a dying man, jingling his adorned chains.

Amy grimaced at that one. Lictor, the demon of Execution, Slavery, and the Binding Chain. He was the most brutal of her demons. He also was one she dedicated a lot of work to change. He was on the short-list of demons to use for spare parts. He was a skilled bruiser and all, but she could always get dumb muscle. She needed demons with heart; with that innate untangible capability. This made Gup nearly the most innocent demon she had. Scanning through his past, she found he had stolen only a single soul. Some abandoned egg, which would explain his lizardy heritage. Lictor had taken thousands. Men, women. Children.

And that’s what Revent would be. Something new. She flexed her meager four-foot wings, feeling like warm oil. She and Lucifer had an amazing few nights since her victory on the Skylon.

Lucifer gives the most amazing wing massages! Kehehehe!

She had infiltrated and invaded the capital ship the Skylon, gathering many Thrones as well as new friends. She had been limited from bringing her bonded demons, going it alone as a test from Lucifer. It had been better than she could have ever imagined.

I wonder what Slatey is up to.

She had unintentionally befriended the demon god of Gluttony, Sloth, and Inky fathomless deeps or some such. She even told her true name, which was incredible. She was still trying to decipher it. Apparently it was powerful enough to destroy those too weak, but if you knew it, the boons you got were incredible. All of her statistics, her ‘numbers’ gained a massive boost on top of gaining a bizarre title “Acolyte of Deep Depths”. She was still deciphering its potent power. Although, once you got past the horrific outer layer, Slate was actually kind of fun to hang around with. And someone finally appreciated her cheese! She thought it strange she had more in common with a demon than her own kind.

She gripped the golden thread of hair. Taken from her god’s bed chambers. She imbued it and the demon flesh with angelic magic, joining them together. She clicked its horn free, jamming the thread of hair down its forehead sheathe.

Her white eyes glowed brightly as the room went silent. The other demons watched in awe as she did her work.

She cleared her throat, speaking the old word.

“Te’imashyia, two bonded as one. Ma’lok, a new creation begot. Al’amatraphle, Nephilim rise.”

“Nephilim rise.”

“Nephilim rise!”

The magic released, the chanting complete. The empty body suit inflated with demonic viscera, writhing with new life. The angled visor eye glowed red. He began to glow gold, his new heritage kicking in. Revent’s hand twitched. She sat the demon upright and backed away. The glowing stopped as the demon took its first uneasy steps. Amy back up, clapping her fingers together excitedly.

“Do any of you understand what I just did? Do any of you know how awesome I am? I just created a Nephilim! An Angel Demon hybrid! The powers of both and the weakness of none!”

“All hail mistress Amy, Angel of the Goetic Demon!”

Belph’s cries echoed to silence as she gleefully danced to and fro at her creation.

“He’ll be the most powerful of you all! My champion!”

Revent glanced at his hands, then to her. He dropped to his knees, falling to his hands, clapping his horn against the gold-trimmed floor.

“You have given me life, master! I will serve you for-”

“-Yeah, yeah, yeah- I got it! Now, Revent, rise! Do you remember anything?”

The demon halted, getting to his knees.

“All I know is right now, master.”

Amy wiped at her face, a little perturbed her favorite demon was blanked out to a newborn babe.

Ew, babies…

“And please, call me Amy!”

She helped the demon to his feet, gripping him with her massive gauntleted hands.

“Yes, Amy.”

“Kehehehe! I’m the best!”

She glanced at her speechless demons. Even Belph had no words.

“Say I’m the best, you big idiots!”

They all cried out as one.

“Amy is the best!”

“I’m the best”

She heard Gup say it word for word, giving her his big dumb lizard grin. She blanched, flicking his nose with her powerful finger, sending him careening into the table leg.

“And let it be known I’m even better than that! I just created Nephilim! Keheheheh!”

“The Mistress has done the impossible! A binding of Angel and Demon! A Nephilim!”

Amy went deadpan, staring at her slow demon.

“We know. I just said that!”

She grabbed a knickknack, tossing it at the large demon, striking his stoney flesh. It shattered against the unresponsive demon.

“Revent here is special. He’s the de facto leader now! Not you, Lictor!”

Her bruiser rasped a chuckle at her chastisement.

“The Mistress’ wisdom is supreme, the harbinger is flawless!” Belph added.

She did like his poetic words.

“Yes- yes it is! I am the best, after all! Kehehehe!”

She held up her hands, silencing the room of further prattle.

“Now! Revent has rejoined my most holy retinue. We six are now complete!”

She counted out the demons. Gup, her first. Revent, her Nephilim. Belph, her lumpy prophet. Lictor, her wicked bruiser.

And.

She almost forgot her sixth. Her most unique. And her most absent.

“Where’s Breatherman?”

She glanced about, searching for his spectral form.

“Breatherman! Get over here, you big idiot!”

A massive fifteen-foot figure phased through the floor, folding his four arms, robed in billowing smokey shadow and malevolence. Her most powerful of her collection. The one with the most potential. Her prized jewel.

The Breatherman.

She had been blessed to gain him on the Skylon.

The Breatherman, Greater demon of The Mind’s Terror, of Frozen Peaks, of Towering Might, and of the Demoncrystal’s Flow. He had the most synergy with her, capable of manipulating her demon spheres and summons. A child of the Compiler, her tragic lost demon, destroyed by that guy aboard the Skylon. Whatever his name was. He wasn’t important.

Shindow was that AI I couldn’t get… She was clever… for an idiot!

And she had completely decimated the forces of that pirate lady.

The Skylon wasn’t even hers in the first place! She stole it, so it was OK to massacre them! I wonder if Shindow and that guy were involved with the plot! I won’t stand for it- no sir!

If she saw those big idiots again she’d give them such a wallop. They’d be begging her forgiveness!

“Breatherman! Go to the table!”

The hulking specter silently obliged, taking two steps to the round table, between Lictor and Belph. She had enlarged the table to accommodate the bigger demons. Gup scurried to his chair, which was more or less a red plastic folding chair.

“Come here, Revent, we’re just about to start!”

She guided her new favored champion to the chair just off to her right. She thought through her angelic inventory, grabbing the item she desired. She placed the hat atop Revent’s head, his horn punching through the red beret. Magic flashed, and within seconds, everyone was adorned with their own hats. Amy adjusted her large, red, floppy sunhat, keeping it steady atop her cowled head. All but one position was filled at the table.

Amy glanced slyly around the room, waiting for her queue.

A teapot hissed off in the kitchen, announcing it was time.

“Let the tea party begin!” she jingled her teaspoon against her cup.

The table sat motionless. She snapped to the Breatherman, pointing to the kettle.

“Butler, do us the honors, please? And thank you!”

The large specter melted into the floor, appearing in the kitchen to collect the shrieking pot. He floated to the table, pouring everyone a drink, including Gup. Amy smacked at her lizard demon, keeping him from scalding himself again. Her grubby thief adjusted his fez, his bug-eyes appeared to recalibrate from the blow as they swiveled around the room.

She smelled at her tea, appreciating the new vanilla black. She gathered the sugar cup and began to unceremoniously pour it all into her cup.

“There! Tea is no good at all without sweetness, no deary!”

She had taken on her faux posh accent.

“Hem-hem! Mr. Gup Dumble, I do say this is a remarkable blend- yes?” she glanced at Gup who simply nodded like a bobble toy.

She turned to her Nephilim, eying him with pride.

“Revent, darling, how is the tea?”

The Nephilim glanced down at his tea, as if pondering on what to do before grasping it. He gripped his visor, pulling it down as he dumped the scalding contents within.

“Master. It is good. May I ask. What are we doing?”

“Ah yes, Sir Fleetlebeet, we are having a delightful soiree, with a dual purpose.”

“And that would be?”

“Why to enjoy fine dining and discuss the matters at hand- On the topic of why Madame Amy Amazingous is amazing!”

“The Mistress is the light of reality! All hail Amy!” Belph interjected.

She looked at her lump, seeing him sporting a bowler and a massive glass monocle over his rich, yellow, bladed eyes.

“Thank you Mr. Belph Rumplestrumpet. I am amazing, aren’t I?”

A death rattle laugh emanated from her bruiser. He wore a cocked top hat.

“These times are always so illuminating. First we feast and then we butcher.”

She tutted her ancy bruiser, “Mr Lictor Dumpingstuff, no talk of violence, butchering or, otherwise violence at the table! No more- no sir!”

His large grin and disquieting eyes blinked absently as he slowly raised the tiny teacup to his flat-toothed maw, spilling the contents into his mouth and dribbling it down his chin.

“Of course, master.”

This guy is no good!

She glanced to The Breatherman who sported a ten gallon hat atop his cowled head.

“And Mr. Shepherdman, how is the tea?”

“Delightful.”

His wretched voice could cauterize wounds and spoil milk in a single stroke.

“Mm- hem-hem! Wonderful- simply wonderful! Now onto business!”

She cracked her fingers, looking through today’s agenda.

“Since we have a spare moment of free time, we’re going on holiday! To Magara, of all systems. Isn’t that wonderful? It is breathtaking this time of year!”

Gup dumped the tea down his throat and began grasping for the pot. Amy sent a wide backhand to the rude guest, sending him careening into her pillow town. Fourth street and main would suffer a two hour delay due to Gup’s clumsiness.

CRUNCH.

Amy blinked, instantly aware of her eighth guest. She looked to the empty seat, spotting the missing teacup and strumpets.

“Slatey?”

And there she appeared, garbed in a dark green hoodie and blue pajama bottoms. She had a silver tiara atop her head for the occasion. Inky black hair covered most of her mono-featured face. The other demons look on in horror with Gup instantly hiding in his dragon bag for safety among the ruins of Fourth and Main street.

The demon god glanced to the others, Amy felt nothing from her usual dominating presence.

She was being sneaky for once.

“Slatey!” Amy crowed before going back into character, “hem-hem, have a seat, have a seat, my queen! Everyone, bow to the queen- she has arrived!”

All of the demons obliged, with Belph having to rock forward to complete the gesture.

“Hey.”

Slate sat down, folding her arms. She brushed back the flowing oil-for-hair, revealing her large red eye.

“The Tea was yummy. I’ve got some place to be soon. Wanna come with- bestie?”

Gup crawled from his sack, curious of the new demon. Amy perked up. Another adventure was afoot. She grinned from underneath her azure cowl.

“Everyone! Hem-hem, we have a new change of plans! We’re going to… Uh- wherever Slate is going!”

Her grubby demon thief took his chair again, donning his thrice crumpled fez. Slate’s eye swept the table, analyzing everyone present.

“Hm. Breatherman. How’s life with Amy?”

The specter tilted its cowl, a sign of submission. He paused, weighing his answer. Amy snapped to her specter demon, eyes narrowing. He was less talkative since she crushed him after leaving the Skylon. To think he did what he did to another angel! She had no idea until afterward and the Breatherman paid dearly for it. It was a shame and all as she wanted to meet another potential friend. Or foe. These days the lines drunkenly swerved together.

“Heavenly.”

Amy nodded at the answer. Breatherman was learning well!

Slate rose from her chair, shuffling to the pillow city.

Amy perked up, unsure what was going on.

“Slatey, what’s up?”

“We’re- going now,” She said between a stifled yawn.

“N-now!? Uh- well. Hm. OK!” Amy did a triple-take, unprepared by the spontaneity.

“Yeah.”

She looked to her demons, each jittery with anticipation to be free once again.

That could mean more Thrones! Oh, dear! But what if Lucifer has another task for me and I’m gone? She’ll be so mad! But I have Thrones to appease her already. But Slatey is soooo coool! Wah! What to do!

“Go with her, Amy my love.”

Amy fell over in her chair, crashing to the floor as she spilled her tea.

“Wah!”

Lucifer!?

“Of course, Amy, my love. I am always with you. Go with her. Go with this demon. Learn from her. I will keep watching and guiding you. Do not stray. Do not forsake me. Do not fail me.”

I won’t, my god, Lucifer!

“Get up. Stop being dramatic.”

A small grubby hand lifted her to her feet as she shook the sudden daze away.

“Ok, Slatey, let’s go!”

If Lucy commands it, I’ll go! I’m the best!

Recall.

Amy stood firm, clasping her hands together, recalling all of her demons. Relief flooded their composure as they flowed into streams of blue light, vanishing in her hand.

She looked to Slate, almost realizing too late she forgot something.

“Oh- Slatey wait, I got something! My own Throne! I got one- Lucy gave it to me! Kehehehe- I’m the best!”

She waddled to her large round bed, knocking stuff toys freely like a kaiju in her pillow city. She reached under and grasped a long wooden case. She clicked it open, revealing a shiny black steel staff. It looked to made of a six-foot spine with a jawless skull adorned.

Bithermaul, Throne of Animus' Guile, her brand new artifact. Synergetic with magic and demons, it was just what she needed.

“I’m ready-”

She drooped at seeing Gup still present, sniffing at Slate with obvious interest.

“Gup! How did you- Gah! Nevermind- come on Slate, we’re ready!”

She waddled close, bracing herself for immediate devouring. She opened her eyes, seeing her bestie gesturing with a grubby hand. She gently grasped it in her own. Gup scurried to her side, gripping her robe.

She looked at her big idiot thief, rolling her eyes at him.

“What am I going to do with you, Gup? Oh- come on, let’s go!”

Slate wiped back her oily hair, sporting a shark’s grin.

“OK, we’re all set here.”

Amy felt something pulling at her, forcing her away from her chambers. Pardominion was left behind, as were the usual security measures against teleportation methods. They should have been swimming in Seraphims by now. She shivered at the prospect of just one.

I will not fail you, Lucifer. I’ll have fun with my bestie and then give Lucifer her Throne!

She clicked Bithermaul down, seeing a new room fade into view. The noise of screaming reached her ears, driving up her defenses as she madly glanced around.

Bodies adorned in emerald robes lined the circle she occupied. Fresh bodies, the smell burnt flesh, and hair still pungent in the air. She couldn’t tell what they were apart from small and numerous. She could feel it, they were on a vessel. The bodies were all arrayed around them. And they were in the center of the ornately drawn shape. She knew right away what it was.

A demon’s summoning circle.

And the forty-some bodies were the fuel.

A raucous laugh rang out, immediately assaulting her ears.

The laugh of a shrieking goat.

She turned, gasping at what she saw.