The Inner Circle: Holy Spirit (18 page)

Ilgrin realised he was glimpsing the
skies of Old World and that the darkness above was not due to bad
weather. Rather, as far as the eye could see, the entire sky was
blotted out by whisp pollution.

‘
What have we done?’
Ilgrin whispered, alarmed by the deathly brooding power hovering
above the world. The damage one whisp could do was unthinkable.
Should these ones all decide to fall at once, there was no telling
what they might be capable of. While Ilgrin stood in respectful
fear of that which stood before him, he also found himself becoming
increasingly excited. Soon he would discover why Gez-reil had
thought his return to Old World so important. And he would learn
the truth about his kind.

‘
You’ve destroyed the
world,’ an elderly voice replied to the question Ilgrin had voiced
aloud to nobody.

Ilgrin’s attention snapped toward
the ground where an old man stood, an arrow pointed up at him. He
pulled back on the bow string. Ilgrin gaped and flared his wings,
blood pumping in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest. He
tensed his knees. An explosion echoed. The arrow flew wide and the
old man hit the earth, a bloody wound blooming from his
chest.

‘
Maker!’ Ilgrin
gasped, leaping from the tree to lean over the man. ‘Are you
okay?’

‘
You . . .’ he
wheezed. ‘You will never replace your father.’

‘
My father?’ Ilgrin
repeated in confusion.

‘
Father!’ a second
voice cried. Ilgrin glanced up to see a slender young man with
curly blond hair racing toward them, a pistol in hand. ‘It’s okay,
Father.’ He pushed Ilgrin aside and leaned over the man, kissing
his forehead softly as his eyes began to close. ‘It’s over
now.’

‘
I don’t understand,’
the man sobbed. ‘My own son . . . why, Jakob?’

‘
It’s better this
way.’ Jakob smiled and moved a hand through his father’s hair. ‘It
had to be done.’

‘
Traitor.’ The old
man gurgled his final word before his head fell back into the
mud.

‘
Quickly.’ Jakob
leapt to his feet. ‘He’s alerted the others. They’ll be
coming.’

‘
You killed your own
father,’ Ilgrin said in horror.

‘
He was a bastard
anyway.’ Jakob shrugged. ‘Come on.’ He began to hurry through the
woods only to stop when Ilgrin didn’t follow. ‘Come on,’ he
repeated, pointing at the sky.

A glance through the canopy revealed
several silts swooping about in search for him. ‘Torrid,’ Ilgrin
growled in frustration as he hurried after the strange man.

Jakob became an occasional glimpse or
flash of movement as shrubs and small trees were pushed this way
and that up ahead. The man was very fast and made good use of feet
designed to run rather than perch.

‘
Quickly,’ he urged
yet again, nervously glancing up at the sky.

Ilgrin bashed through the thick foliage
before, quite without warning, spilling into a small clearing in
which a quaint little cottage sat with soft smoke bubbling from its
chimney. Jakob waved Ilgrin over, barged through the front door,
and disappeared inside. Having been freed from the dense forest,
Ilgrin beat his wings several times and landed at the door a moment
later. Before entering, he caught a glimpse of the sky. A uniformed
silt locked eyes on him and shouted something, but a moment later
Ilgrin was stumbling through a dark and musty home. A trumpet blew
outside. Ilgrin could only assume it was meant to draw attention to
that spot.

‘
Hurry up,’
Jakob
urged from somewhere within the
dark recesses of the cottage. ‘They’ll be coming. One of them has
seen you. They know you’re here.’

‘
Who are you!?’
Ilgrin shouted as he hurried through the dark front room. The home
was scarcely decorated. There was a dusty old lounge against one
wall, and the bedrooms he passed had naught but blankets on the
floor to serve as bedding.

When Ilgrin reached the back room, he
found Jakob rushing about with a large tin can he was using to
splash a pungent smelling liquid across the walls and floor.

‘
Move that
bookshelf,’ the strange man ordered.

‘
Which one?’ Ilgrin
glanced about the room.

‘
The only one in
here,’ Jakob barked. ‘Are you slow or something?’

‘
Um . . . okay.’
Ilgrin moved over to the bookshelf and picked it up, moving it
cautiously so as not to drop any of its contents.

‘
Oh, for Maker’s
sake.’ Jakob slapped a hand over the back of the shelf and pushed
it over to reveal a dark brickwork tunnel. ‘Here.’ He passed a
torch to Ilgrin before lighting another for himself and heading
into the tunnel.

‘
This ought to keep
them busy,’ Jakob muttered before he tossed a glass jar across the
room so that it shattered in the fireplace. Ilgrin’s skin burned as
it ignited and flames rushed about the room. ‘This way,’ Jakob
urged, already racing along the passageway.

The tunnel came to completion
some distance away, Ilgrin guessed on the opposite side of the
small hill that the cottage had been backed up against. Despite
having lost their tail, Jakob continued relentlessly at the same
pace as before through the dense forest. Tiny silt shadows swooped
this way and that, but for now they were getting by unnoticed.
Ilgrin took the opportunity to get some answers. He clamped a hand
over Jakob’s shoulder and forced him up against a tree.

‘
Who are you?’ Ilgrin
barked. ‘Why should I trust you?’

‘
Why wouldn’t you?’
Jakob glared angrily. ‘My father was going to kill you and so are
they.’ He pointed wildly at the sky. ‘I’m the only one not sticking
a weapon in your face.

‘
I can’t trust you
anyway!’ Ilgrin cried. ‘You killed your own father. What kind of
monster are you?’

‘
Watch it,’ Jakob
hissed and Ilgrin felt a cold blade touch his throat. ‘Ever heard
of what silver does to flesh.’

‘
No.’ Ilgrin yanked
back his head.

‘
Not even you can
heal damage done by silver.’ Jakob eased away the blade, but
maintained a threatening disposition.

‘
Fine,’ Ilgrin
muttered, allowing the man to stand freely. He put a hand against
his neck and pulled it away to find a smear of dark blue blood. As
he did so, a horn sounded from somewhere close by.

‘
You idiot!’
Jakob spat. ‘T
hey’ve found us again.
Maybe they were right in wanting to kill you off.’ He rolled his
eyes. ‘Quickly. This way.’

Ilgrin hurried after the man, his heart
racing at the thought of being caught. He’d been a prisoner before
and wouldn’t stand to go through it again.

Long shadows and the sound of beating
wings told Ilgrin the silt soldiers were closing in. The air
gushed. Steel talons clamped around Jakob’s arm, but before he
could be lifted more than a stride into the air, the man thrust his
knife into the silt’s leg. The soldier cried out in pain and was
forced to dive back into the sky to avoid an upcoming row of
trees.

A second pursuer hit Ilgrin and the two
tumbled head over heels through the foliage.

‘
What do you want
from me!?’ Ilgrin shouted as the soldier swung his
scythe.

The silt ignored him and continued to
flail his weapon. Ilgrin instinctively raised his arms. The silt’s
eyes rolled back and he fell forward in death. Jakob stood behind
him, his silver knife painted blue with blood.

‘
Do you trust me
yet?’ Jakob asked sarcastically.

Instead of wasting his energy in
replying, Ilgrin chose to focus on escaping.

‘
In here,’ Jakob
hissed after a short period of running. Ilgrin followed the man
behind a mass of boulders and into the dark interior of a musty
cave. The space was lit by lanterns, but Jakob handed Ilgrin a
fresh torch nevertheless.

‘
We’ll be safe for
now,’ he whispered. ‘Silts hate spending time on the ground and
it’s impossible to see this place from above. Anyway--’ The man
bent over, panting for breath. ‘Formally, I’m Jakob Fyne.’ He
reached out to shake Ilgrin’s hand.

He shook it. ‘Ilgrin Geld.’

‘
So that’s what they
decided to call you, is it?’ Jakob chuckled and made his way deeper
into the cave. ‘I’ll stick with your real name, if that’s okay with
you. I’ve gotten used to hearing it.’

‘
My real name?’
Ilgrin followed the man with renewed interest.

‘
Oh, yeah.’ Jakob’s
face split into a broad smile and it occurred to Ilgrin that the
man was thoroughly enjoying teasing him. ‘I forgot that you
probably don’t even know your own name, do you, Enoch?’

‘
Enoch?’ Ilgrin
tested the unfamiliar word. ‘What a strange name. Is that my
surname or given?’

‘
Demons don’t have
surnames.’ Jakob laughed. ‘Well, they sort of do, I suppose, but
it’s the other way around. Your full name is Sa’Enoch. Sa being
what you would call your family name.’

‘
Why are you doing
all this anyway?’ Ilgrin asked suspiciously. ‘You seem to be going
to a lot of trouble for a silt.’

Jakob chuckled. ‘You mean a demon.’

‘
Stop calling me
that,’ Ilgrin snapped, shoving Jakob up against the
wall.

‘
Why not?’ Jakob
frowned. ‘It’s what you are. Oh . . . I see.’ He laughed aloud.
‘You thought that the word was just a defamatory term--an insult,
if you will?’

‘
It is an insult,’
Ilgrin said shakily, without much conviction.

‘
No, it’s not.’ Jakob
cringed. ‘It’s simply what you are. You can ask any silt you want.
Almost all of them will freely admit to being demons.’

‘
It’s not a
derogatory term?’ Ilgrin swallowed, feeling sick to his
stomach.

‘
Well . . . people
north of here probably use it so.’ Jakob shrugged. ‘But no, it’s
not. You’re a demon. Why do you care, anyway? It’s just a
word.’

‘
It’s not just a
word,’ Ilgrin said bitterly. ‘It means that my kind blatantly
accept what the Tome says about us: that we’re
monsters.’

‘
You are monsters.’
Jakob put a hand on Ilgrin’s shoulder and winked at him cheekily in
the firelight.

‘
Wait,’ Ilgrin said
as they resumed their progress through the cave. ‘You said almost
all silts freely identify as demons. So . . . some of us aren’t
demons?’

‘
Smart boy.’ Jakob
laughed. ‘Of course not all silts are demons, but all demons are
silts.’

‘
Enough with the
riddles,’ Ilgrin said through gritted teeth.

‘
There are other
silts,’ Jakob admitted. ‘They’re called angels--horrible creatures
for the most part. You really don’t want to get involved with them.
They’re even worse than your lot.’

The firelight danced in such a way that
Ilgrin caught a glimpse of something he hoped he hadn’t seen on
Jakob’s arm. ‘What’s that?’

‘
Oh, this?’ Jakob
lifted his arm so that the silt wing tattoo could be plainly
seen.

‘
You’re a demon
worshipper,’ Ilgrin choked out, his eyes fixed on the man’s
tattoo.

‘
That’s what they’re
calling us now, are they?’ Jakob laughed. ‘I’m a Sa’Tanist,
yes.’

‘
Sa’Tan,’ Ilgrin said
the name of the very first Devil slowly. ‘I’m Sa’Enoch.’

‘
That’s right,’ Jakob
smiled.

‘
Please don’t say
that . . .’

‘
That name is the
reason why everyone wants you dead. You’re the last in the original
Devil’s lineage.’

‘
I think I have to
sit down,’ Ilgrin said scarcely above a whisper, his mouth having
become dry. He leaned clumsily against the wall and wiped clammy
hands over his pants.

‘
For a Devil, you’re
kind of pathetic.’ Jakob shook his head in disapproval.

‘
I am,’ Ilgrin choked
out, ‘the Devil?’

‘
That’s right,’ the
man confirmed. ‘And I’m going to help you get your throne
back.’

‘
Why?’ Ilgrin asked
slowly, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that he was royalty
by blood.

‘
Let’s keep moving,’
Jakob urged, before continuing. ‘I’ll start at the beginning and
tell you all I know.’

‘
Please,’ Ilgrin
encouraged.

‘
It must be almost
twenty-five years ago by now,’ Jakob began. ‘It would’ve been a few
years before I was born. I know the story through my father and a
few silts I’m associated with. Your father, Devil Sa’Abraham, died
of a mysterious condition. It’d troubled him his entire life and
one day his heart could take no more and gave out. Your mother,
Sa’Sarah the She-Devil, was forced to rule Hel and all of Hades on
her own. It was a difficult task. Seeing as though she was the only
She-Devil to have ever gained the throne, very few people granted
her the respect she deserved.’

‘
Why didn’t she
resurrect Sa’Abraham?’ Ilgrin uttered.

‘
His condition was a
birth defect,’ Jakob replied. ‘Much like old age, it cannot be
healed properly. If he’d been resurrected, he’d have come back to
life with the same condition and died again shortly thereafter.
Resurrection only takes you back to the state you were in before
death. It heals wounds, not scars.’