When Angels Fall (Demon Lord) (3 page)

Mithran’s worried voice came through the door. “Bane! Something’s happened to Ethra! She can’t speak!”

Bane massaged his temples, muttering, “I know. I know. I know.”

“You have only made it worse. Take it off,” Mirra said.

Mithran shouted, “Bane! You need to come out here. Ethra is…” His voice faded somewhat. “What? Him?” His voice rose to a bellow again. “Bane! Stop this at once!”

“Your father has spoken,” Mirra murmured.

Bane grunted, still rubbing his eyes, and sighed. In the kitchen, Ethra’s banter resumed, along with fresh gales of giggles.

Mithran thumped on the door.
“Bane! Get up!”

Mirra giggled, poking him. He brushed her hand away, hiding his smile behind his other arm.

She murmured, “Come along, Lord Grumpalot, obey your father, like a good son.”

“I should have silenced him, too,” he growled.

She gave a mock gasp. “You would not dare!”

He removed his arm and opened his eyes. “It would not have stopped him banging on the door, unfortunately.”

Mirra rose, slipped her dress on and threw his trousers at him. “Get up.”

He sat up, raking back his hair. “You lot are getting far too bossy. Why must they come here to make noise?”

She splashed her face in the basin. “Because they cannot understand each other unless they are close to you, silly.”

“I will have to curse a stone or something.”

“Will that work?”

“I do not know. I have never tried it.” Bane rose, donned his trousers and went over to the basin to wash his face, then dried it and pulled on his shirt. Mirra tried to open the door and cast him a martyred look.

“Bane…”

Bane glanced at it, and, when she tried again, it opened, and she slipped out. He finished dressing, leaving off his cloak, and when he emerged, Grem, Mithran and Ethra sat around the kitchen table with steaming cups of tea in front of them, while Mirra stirred a pot of porridge on the stove. Ethra grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. Mithran raked him with a disapproving look.

“That was unnecessary, Bane.”

He sat opposite. “She was making too much noise.”

“Even so…”

Grem chuckled, and Ethra giggled.

Bane picked up the cup of tea Mirra set before him. “What are you all doing here so early, anyhow?”

“We’re going to the light realm, remember? And it’s almost noon,” Mithran said.

Bane glanced at the sun streaming in through the window. The world shivered, and moonlight replaced it. The faint chirring of crickets broke the stunned silence. Mithran’s mouth dropped open, Grem grunted, and Ethra giggled. Mirra clicked her tongue.

“You were saying?” Bane asked.

“That is not fair,” Mirra said.

Mithran’s mouth opened and closed a few times, then he swallowed. “Change it back.”

Grem yawned, striving to stifle it.

Mithran shook his head. “Son, if you don’t want to go, you just have to say so.”

“I do. I was just enjoying a lie-in.”

Grem snorted, and Mirra’s cheeks grew pink.

Mithran eyed her, then Bane. “All right, you’ve made your point.”

The world shivered again, and the sunlight returned, along with birdsong. Mithran slurped his tea.

“What were you doing that made so much noise, anyway?” Bane enquired.

Mithran and Grem swapped
a conspiratorial look, and then Mithran reached under the table, drew out a folded strip of cloth and pulled it open with a snap. “We were trying to nail this to a beam, but it’s not wood, so we couldn’t.”

The cloth bore two words painted in red, black and pink, along with many spots and spills. It read: ‘Happy Birthday’.

Bane eyed it. “Whose birthday is it?”

“Yours!”

“No, it is not.”

“It is if I say so.”

Bane looked at Mirra, who leant against the stove, her arms folded, smiling at him. “You knew about this?”

“Yes. But you ruined it.”

“I did not know.”

“It was meant to be a surprise.”

Mithran said, “Ethra worked on this all of yesterday.”

Bane lowered his eyes to his teacup and put it down with a clink. He was at a loss for words, partly because his father had tried to arrange a little birthday party, and partly because his impatience with Ethra’s prattle had ruined their plans. Mirra came over and hugged him, kissing his cheek.

“It is all right. You did not know.”

Mithran folded the banner and put it on the table. “I thought it would be nice for you to have a birthday celebration,
Son. You’ve never had one before, have you?”

“No. Not exactly.”

Mithran raised his eyebrows. “When would the Black Lord have ever celebrated your birthday?”

“It was not exactly a celebration.”

“Your sixteenth,” Mirra guessed.

Bane inclined his head. “It was still not a good idea to do it first thing in the morning, when I was still abed.”

Grem chortled again, and Ethra piped up, “Mirra said it was the only way to surprise you.”

“And it’s not the first thing in the morning,” Grem added.

“This still does not explain the amount of noise you were all making. It was hardly a surprise after that racket.”

“Well, we would have been quiet, if we could have put up the banner and blown up the balloons, but I fell off the chair and
the pump has a leak, it seems.” Grem took a slim white tube from a box under the table and pulled on the handle, then pushed it in, making a farting noise. Ethra shrieked with laughter. He chuckled. “Ethra finds it hilarious.”

The girl said, “It sounds like -”

“Yes,” Mithran interrupted. “We know what it sounds like.”

“That’s why it’s funny
!”

Bane smiled and sipped his tea. “Sorry, Father. You all really thought I would enjoy a party, with a banner, and balloons?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Just because you’re a -”

“Because I am twenty-two years old
.”

Mithran scowled at him. “Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for your benefit. I’ve never been able to celebrate my only son’s birthday.”

Bane lowered his eyes again, cursing himself.

Mithran slurped his tea. “And Ethra would have enjoyed it, too.”

“I think she did. Why did you not give her a party, then?”

“It’s not my birthday,” the girl said.

“And besides, I wanted
you
to have a party,” Mithran stated. “It’s high time you did some normal, human things. Mirra agreed. You’ve spent far too long rubbing shoulders with gods, and fighting them, and beasts and demons and all manner of foul creatures, like those… What do you call them?”

“Droges?”

“Yes! Now we have a few days to relax and do some fun things before we venture off into the unknown again.”

Bane sighed, thoroughly chastised. “I am sorry, Father.”

“I know it wasn’t anything special; just a banner and some balloons, and your human family. I’m sure your spirit father could have decked the light realm with gold and jewels and summoned angels to dance for you, but -”

“You resent Kayos?”

“No!” Mithran hesitated. “Well, perhaps a little. How can I compete with a Grey God?”

“You do not have to compete with him. You are my father. And he is your spirit father, too.”

“Yes, well, he’s not proud of me like he is of you. I can’t fight his enemies for him.”

Bane set his teacup down. “Father, I value you more for that very reason. Kayos is only interested in me because of what I am, and what I can do to help him and his kind, while you… You have no ulterior motive. You value me because I am your son.”

“I don’t value you, Son. I love you.”

Bane nodded. “And I love you, Father. Far more than I love Kayos.”

Mithran blinked, then harrumphed and slurped his tea again. “Yes, well, that’s why I wanted to give you a little party for your birthday; a normal, human party, with your human family.”

“I am human too.”

“Sometimes I think you forget just how human you are.”

“But I have you to remind me.”

“And you need reminding!”

Bane bowed his head. Mirra opened a cupboard and took out a bowl, and he looked up. The bowls flew out and settled on the table, then the pot of porridge drifted over to hover above them. Dollops of porridge filled each bowl, and the pot floated back to the stove. Mirra smiled and placed her hands on her hips. A drawer opened and spoons glided out to land beside each bowl. He picked up a spoon, and the empty chair at the table drew out.

“Sit, wife, and eat,” he said.

Ethra spooned her porridge. “So aren’t we going to have a party, now?”

Bane loaded his spoon and blew on the hot gruel. The banner rose, spread and affixed itself to a beam. Soft, multi-coloured balloons drifted from the box, inflated and bobbed about the kitchen. Ethra giggled, her eyes sparkling.

Ban
e smiled at Mirra. “What, no presents?”

She blushed. “I was going to give you one earlier, but…”

Mithran drew a cloth-wrapped object from his pocket and held it out. “Happy birthday, lad.”

Bane raised his eyebrows. “I was joking.”

“A birthday must have presents, no matter how small. It’s hard to find a gift for a god, though.”

Bane took the object and unwrapped it, revealing a tiny, gilt-framed portrait of a smiling raven-haired girl whose face was imprinted indelibly in his memory. He smiled. “Mother.”

“Aye, lad. I thought you’d like a little memento.”

“Thank you, Father. Who made it?”

“I found an artist in the village.”

“It is beautiful, and very thoughtful.”

Mithran nodded. “I’m glad you like it.”

Grem reached under the table,
picked up a sizeable, paper-wrapped item and placed it in front of Bane. He tore the wrapping off a dark bottle whose label proclaimed it to be a vintage wine, not surprisingly. He nodded at the grey-eyed warrior. “Thank you. I shall savour it.”

“I’m sure it’s not as good as ambrosia.”

“You all need to stop trying to compete with gods.”

Ethra held out a
cloth-wrapped object with a flourish, and Bane took it, curious. When he stripped away the silk, he found a gilt timepiece, similar to ones he had seen people in this domain wearing on their wrists. He shot her a surprised look. “Where did you get this?”

Mithran frowned at her. “Did you steal it?”

“No! I earned it!”

“How?”

“Leave it, Father,” Bane said.

“If she stole it…”

“She says she did not.” He smiled at the girl. “Thank you.” He peered at the device’s tiny face. “I shall have to learn how to read it.”

The child jumped up and came around the table. “The man showed me. The hands point to numbers, and those tell the time. See, it says half past eleven.” She leant closer. “But it’s stopped. That little hand is supposed to be moving.” She took it and tapped it. “There, it’s working again.” She handed it back, but the little hand stopped ticking. She frowned.

Bane said, “I do not think it is the timepiece that is at fault. I think it is me.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Apparently I have a strange effect on mechanical devices.” He placed the timepiece on the table, and it started working again. “See? There is nothing wrong with it. It is lovely, Ethra. I tell you what, you hold onto it, and when I need to know the time, I shall ask you.”

The girl looked disappointed, but took the timepiece and returned to her place. Bane spooned his porridge again, which was growing cold. It warmed when he concentrated on it, as did everyone else’s.

“I’d still like to know where she got that,” Mithran muttered.

“A man gave it to me,” Ethra said.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “He said if I answered some questions, he’d give me the shiny watch in the shop. I was looking at it, you see. So I did, and he bought it for me.”

“What questions did he ask you?”

“Mostly about Bane; where he came from, what he is. Stuff like that.”

“And you told him?” Mithran sounded incredulous.

“Sure, why not? It’s not a secret... Is it?” She cast Bane an uncertain look.

He shook his head. “It is all right.”

Mithran said, “They might be trying to find out how to kill you, and now they know where you are.”

“They already did, if a man was asking about me. He was probably one of those people who spread the news.”

“They’re called ‘journalists’, I’ve heard,” Grem said.

“What did you tell him?” Mithran asked Ethra.

“The truth.”

“Which is?”