From Hell with Love (12 page)

“Calm down, Nico, you’re bad at dealing with stress.  That’s why I’m here.  Now,” Marco said as he walked past his friend toward the far table, which held a small skin of wine.  Niccolo looked at Marco with disgust before he saw the drunk extend his hand toward him, offering the skin to his young friend.  “Drink some of this and then tell me what has occurred in your perfect world.”

“No, Marco, I don’t want to get drunk in the morning like you!”

“I’m only offering one more time before I drink it.  One of us needs to be intoxicated for this conversation,” Marco said with a coy smile, but Niccolo’s expression remained serious.

“It’ll have to be you, then, I’m already well on my way,” the merchant’s son stated, his eyes looking out of Marco’s only window.  This caused the drunk to glare at Niccolo, finally realizing this was not just some petty drama.  He lowered the skin and then dropped it on his bed, determined to focus on his young friend.

“You’re going to have to tell me what this is about, Nico, because I’m not sure I can handle all of this excitement,” he said, trying to inject some levity into the situation.  The merchant’s son looked back at him, sorrow in his eyes, but eventually he sighed and then took off his shirt.

“Whoa, whoa!” Marco shouted, but then he saw the bandages wrapped around Niccolo’s arm.  The older man instantly sobered up and looked at his friend with worry.  “Um, what the
hell
is that?”

“This,” Niccolo said, grimacing in pain, “is the reason I’m so
excited.
”  He took hold of the trailing end of bandages and then began to gingerly remove the wrapping.  Marco watched, a knot turning in his stomach, but once Niccolo was able to show the extent of his injury, Marco threw up what was left in his stomach.  He looked back at his friend, but the sight of Niccolo’s rotting arm was enough to cause Marco’s stomach to churn.

“Nico…” he said, trying not to look at the mess that he had made of the floor, “please tell me I’m drunk and this is a dream.”

“If it is, it’s a nightmare, Marco,” his young friend muttered, despair coloring every word.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“How…” Marco said as he tried to regain his senses, “how did this happen?”

“How should
I
know, Marco?  All I know is that everything I’ve done hasn’t worked.”  Niccolo sat down on his bed, causing Marco to flinch.  He would have to burn those sheets after his friend left.

“Well, what have you done?” he asked, pacing around his bedroom.

“Last night I…I tried to use snake venom to stop the spread.  It didn’t work,” Niccolo explained, burying his face in his hands.

“Didn’t work?” Marco asked, not comprehending that such a barbaric practice was actually considered a cure.  Niccolo jumped up and shook his maimed arm toward Marco in his anger.

“No!  It made it worse!  I thought I was going to die, I still feel the shadow of death on me, but my arm is worse!  It was just between the shoulder and the elbow before.  Now, now you see what has happened,” he trailed off, the fight leaking out of him.

“Marco…I’m going…it’s over,” Niccolo said, sniffing at the end of the statement.  Marco looked down at his friend and was filled with so much pity that it overcame his disgust.  He kneeled down and then slapped Niccolo’s thighs.

“It’s not over, Nico, stop it!  Look, we live in an age of medicine!  We know more now than we have in any time of
history
!  Well, I think so, at least,” Marco said, getting distracted by his own line of thinking.  He shook his head before grabbing Niccolo’s chin.  “There’s got to be something out there.”

“I tried.  My father will disown me.  Camilla will…” Niccolo started, but Marco slapped him and then made sure to wear his most stern expression.

“Oh, don’t you start with that, Nico!  That girl loves you to death!  We’re going to find some way to fix this arm of yours.”

“What if we can’t?” Niccolo asked, which brought Marco’s thoughts to the reality of the situation.  There was every possibility that his young friend would end up begging with the other lepers.

“You’re going to be fine, Nico.  We’re going to fix this,” the older man stated, but he could tell that Niccolo was unconvinced.  Marco shook the merchant’s son by his healthy shoulder.  “What are we going to do, Nico?”  The young man looked up at him, but hope was still absent in his gaze.

“We’re going to fix this.”

“That’s right,” Marco said as he continued to boost his friend’s spirits.

Realistically, it was the only thing he could offer.

Chapter 5: Chasing Shadows

 “I’ve never liked this place,” Niccolo grumbled as they neared the Infernal Archives.  The building was massive from the outside, taking up a huge chunk out of the Famine Quarter, but that was nothing compared to what lay beneath the surface.  The archives continued to expand downward as the years passed and the history of the world built on itself.

“It’s like you don’t realize how many times you’ve said that to me,” Cadmus muttered before dismissing Mercy, letting the dust cascade to the scattered bricks and using the remains of his horse to lower himself.  Niccolo shook his head at the reaper before swinging his leg around and dismounting from Plague, taking in a deep breath before looking at the sprawling complex.

“I guess I think it’s just
that
important,” he needled his companion, reading the demonic letters scrawled across the entrance.  Though he had never had the patience to become fluent, Niccolo could, at the very least, translate the phrase in front of him.  “
Though in darkness, we are never blind.
  They do have a way with words.”

“Buer does, at the very least,” Cadmus said before passing an impish demon exiting the building.  He gave an awkward smile as the former human passed, clearly it was not one of the Fallen, and looked back to his friend.  “Do I have to drag you inside?”  Niccolo sneered at the remark, but walked up the steps to the black doors, Plague dissolving into the green mist once more and trailing behind his master.

It took twenty minutes to find Buer organizing scrolls in one of the lowest levels.  The centaur had virtually lived in the Archives since its construction, rarely sleeping in order to continue his work, although that was not a unique quality among the Fallen; it seemed only former humans seemed to require rest.  In any case, the centaur’s insomnia was beneficial for his post, as the Archives were constantly in flux.  Since the building could shift at a moment’s notice, it was difficult for anyone to keep up with organization.

So it was not surprising that they found Buer with his left arm loaded with scrolls, pacing along one of the far walls.  There had been a time when angels and demons feared the old centaur, his armor fitted with spikes and twisted barbs which would impale opponents as he ran past.  That was not the worst of it, as the powerful demon would also use spears and swords in conjunction with those tactics, creating a whirlwind of destruction.  It was no wonder that he had been a champion in the fighting pits for centuries.

Now the scholar looked old and haggard.  While his horse half still rippled with powerful muscles, his coat was drab and barely groomed.  The humanoid half was dressed in a loose tunic cinched around where his belly button would be, his chest was not as broad and his arms seemed almost spindly in comparison to his former self.  Grey was mixed in with his wavy black hair, the bones of his face were more pronounced and he even wore thin spectacles.

However, as old as he looked, the fallen’s mind was as sharp as ever.

“Ah, Cadmus, how good to see a respected Horseman in my Archives.  Niccolo,” Buer greeted them, his voice lowering as he turned to look at the leper, “somewhat less good to see you.”

“Just because I tried to ride you once,” Niccolo joked, rolling his eyes, but Buer did not look amused.

“That was actually almost endearing, archer.  I’m just a tad more offended by the mess you made of levels two hundred and thirty through two hundred and forty five,” the centaur said with a clear grudge, placing scrolls into the correct slots without paying attention.  It had all become routine for the fallen angel.

“Buer, that was thirty years ago,” Niccolo explained while walking over to the demon’s side, but Buer snarled at the excuse.

“And it took twenty to fix it, child,” Buer almost shouted, but then regained his composure.  “You broke the bindings on those levels with your little temper tantrum, burned an entire wall of scrolls which I had to write again
from memory
and all because Ipos wouldn’t give you some records about Firenze.”

“He had them for a
year
, Buer!  And you like fixing stuff up around here.  You’d get bored otherwise,” Niccolo said, which made the centaur’s eyes narrow.  As he was almost double the size of the leper, it was somewhat intimidating.

“While you have a point, Horseman, forgive me for not taking kindly to your presence.  You left me with a colossal burden and did not even bother to apologize,” he said, lowering his aged face down to Niccolo’s level.  The Horseman of Pestilence glared for a moment before a realization came over him.

“This is because I never
apologized
?” he asked, seeing the centaur’s features contort a little in confusion, drawing back in reaction.  “Well, umm, is it too late to say that I’m sorry?”  The fallen angel stood to his full height, his mouth opening and closing.  He raised his hand to make a point, but eventually let it fall to his side.

“You think
now
is the time for that?  Damn it all, why are you here?” the centaur asked, giving up on whatever had just taken place.  He looked over at Cadmus, who had remained silent throughout the interaction.  The reaper knew enough to stay in the background as Niccolo antagonized demons who could rip him apart at a moment’s notice.

“Why do people come to Infernal Archives, Buer?” Cadmus said as he walked up to Niccolo’s side, slapping the back of his head and glaring at him in disapproval.  “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“There are a few thousand rooms of information, Cadmus; you don’t need me to interpret them for you.  Think clearly on your questions and wish upon a star, as it were,” Buer said as he placed his withered right hand into one of the scroll alcoves, supporting his human half.

“We’re not particularly looking for history,” Niccolo interrupted, which caused the centaur to look at him with interest.

“You are aware that this building was created to
house
our knowledge of history?”

“We’re actually following up on rumors, old one,” Cadmus said before sighing.  “I had to reap a fallen angel today.  Räum,” he explained, waiting for Buer to react to the news.  It was a few awkward seconds before the centaur raised an eyebrow and turned to face him.

“Oh, you expected me to care that the crow is dead.  Let me tell you now, Horsemen, but not all demons hold each other in high regard.  Räum and I were not the best of friends, as we were responsible for the opposite ends of time.  He had little respect for my record keeping, and I,” Buer said before crossing his arms, “had no respect for his vague notions of playing at foreknowledge.  I wouldn’t go around sharing this knowledge, but I’m quite ambivalent he’s gone.”

The two Horsemen looked at each other in shock before turning back to the fallen.  Niccolo opened his mouth to speak, but he could not find the words to respond.  Instead, Cadmus continued his explanation.

“Well, I guess that’s…understandable.  The issue that we have encountered is with the reaping.  I gained some memories and, well, visions from Räum,” Cadmus said, which caused the centaur to lift his right hand to rub at the scraggly beard on his chin, clearly more interested.

“That is much more like it, Cadmus.  This is a first, a human reaping a fallen angel, and now you have my attention.  Tell me, what did you experience?  Two million years of memories would be daunting even for one of us,” Buer asked, brightening at this new source of knowledge.

“Do you even care how he died?” Niccolo asked, which caused Buer to wave away the question with his hand.

“Doesn’t much matter.  Go on, Horseman,” he urged.

“Well, yes, it was quite the experience,” Cadmus continued, shifting his weight from foot to foot and to the scythe propped up against the floor.  “I did pass out from the flood of memories.”

“No shame in that,” the centaur interjected.

“Actually, at one point I think I saw Heaven, but that was only a flash.  What was most disturbing was a possible vision he had.”

“And?” Buer asked, caution seeping into his voice.

“What we’ve heard is that while they’re pretty vague, Räum’s visions tended to come true,” Niccolo added, which caused Buer to grimace.

“Well, if you make things vague enough you can claim all kinds of things.  I bet Amon told you that,” the centaur said in a snide tone, but his complaint was punctuated with Cadmus slamming the end of his scythe against the floor, drawing their attention.

“I saw Lucifer die, Buer. 
That
part wasn’t vague.  While the rest of it was blurry, I clearly saw Lucifer get stabbed in the back and bleed out,” the reaper said, his voice serious and deep.  Buer furrowed his brow at that and then backed away from the Horsemen, stroking his beard and looking into empty space.

“You’ve talked to Buné, Lucifer and Azazel, I’m guessing.  They told you not to focus on it because of the council…” he mumbled, using his powerful mind to realize their recent interactions.  Niccolo cocked his head to the side and looked amazed.

“How?”

“Though you’re unpredictable at times, Niccolo, I’m aware of your tactics.  Buné would know the most about reaping besides me, and you would want to warn Lucifer even though
his
mentor,” he explained, nodding toward Cadmus, “would advise against it.  You’re here with me now because you’ve gone rogue.”  He punctuated the statement by turning to the Horsemen.  “It is a good thing you did, because Lucifer’s clearly in danger.”

“So there is merit to Räum’s visions?” Cadmus asked, horror spreading across his face.  Buer nodded solemnly.