“Get ready to bow to your new king,” he said. “Let’s make this quick.” He closed his eyes and started reciting something in Latin. With a sense of dread, Jon realized it was a demon summoning. He couldn’t believe it. Fabien was trying to get a demon to do his bidding, and he didn’t even bother with a proper summoning circle or any of the props. He just called the demon. Jon looked at his Grann, who was watching Fabien with narrowed eyes.
The voodoo priest finally got to the last line, “Ego ut ad te oriuntur, Corriwyn!” and Jon wasn’t sure if the relieved sigh that wanted to leave his mouth was already called for. He was pretty sure Fabien had no real power over the demon he had just summoned, but one could never know. Jon watched as a rip in the fabric of space appeared and a demon with light gray scales and bronze markings stepped between the two rings. He looked positively scary. His claws were fully out, his impressive wings spread and his fangs were glistening in the sunlight. He towered over the assembled humans like the giant mammoth trees over their own saplings.
Fabien looked around the massive form at Grann, no doubt expecting her to be cowering in fear. “As I said, bouzen, let’s make this quick. I have a city to get under my rule.”
Grann just shrugged. “Wi, let’s make this quick, debutan.” She winked at Jon. “Barion, cherie, would you please come help your Grann out?”
At the name ‘Barion’, Corriwyn turned toward Grann, looking at her with interest before taking a step backward when another rip in the fabric of space appeared. Barion pushed through, grinning at the other demon.
“Uncle Corriwyn, so nice to meet you here!” Barion had his fangs in and his wings folded at his back. That didn’t make him look any less threatening, though. Corriwyn obviously didn’t mind. He smiled broadly, his fangs retreating as well while he opened his arms to hug Barion.
“Barion, I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing here?”
“Corriwyn, ego ut te occidere haec mulier!” Fabien sounded a bit out of breath, probably due to the fact that he was realizing things were getting out of hand and not in his favor. He could as well have been one of those ridiculously small dogs that fit in a teacup, yapping at two Great Danes. The demons ignored him.
“Uh, you see, I’ve found my mate and the human you’re playing with wants to kill his Grann.”
“What? Congratulations. I haven’t heard.”
“It’s very new, happened only two days ago. There will, of course, be an official announcement and party. Anyway, I can’t let you kill Jon’s Grann, seeing as she’s my Grann now as well.”
“Oh, that. It’s fine. I wasn’t planning on doing it, anyway. That idiot”—Corriwyn gestured at Fabien, who was getting quite red in the face—“has started summoning me about a month ago and he’s been fun so far. But you know I draw the line at killing.” He turned to Grann and bowed gracefully. “I’m truly sorry about the inconvenience, bel leve. If I had known this man was going to bother a woman of your beauty and grace, I would have never let him believe he could control me.”
“It is fine, bote nob. You couldn’t know. Let’s put the blame where it belongs, won’t we?” Grann patted her hair. She actually patted her hair, which she had adorned with two bird skulls and several feathers to mark the occasion, and now she was adjusting her breasts under her bright red silken tunic in a none-too-subtle way. Corriwyn was following her movements like a lion ready to pounce on the antelope. The very willing antelope, if Grann’s blinding smile had anything to say.
“I told you to kill that freaking bitch, move lespri!” Fabien was shouting at the top of his lungs, waving around his stick with pearl beads, a small, hollowed pumpkin and three rat skulls attached to it. Jon was pretty sure that the man would blow a vessel any moment. Both Corriwyn and Barion slowly turned toward the enraged man, their eyes glowing deep red. It was Corriwyn who spoke.
“Bel leve, what do you want to happen to this worm?”
Grann stepped out of the circle and between the two demons, who towered over her like the world’s most frightening bodyguards. “Well, he wanted me dead to take over my city and no doubt rule my people with fear and hate and disregard. He threatened my family. What does one do to such a person?” She tapped her chin with her right index finger.
Fabien seemed to have finally realized that he wouldn’t win this fight, and he raised his stick, opening his mouth to start some recitation or other. Almost absent-mindedly, Barion grabbed the magical item and broke it in half. Fabien screeched and doubled over in pain. Jon didn’t know much about the making of these kinds of sticks, because they were another thing Grann was strictly against, one of the reasons being that too much of the wielder flowed into the vessel, something Barion had just proven nicely with the unwilling help of Fabien. Corriwyn bent forward, grabbing Fabien at the collar of his silken—and no doubt expensive—tunic, lifting him into the air like the cockroach he was. The man started screaming, demanding to be let down, which Corriwyn ignored.
“I’m not sure how I want to deal with you,” Corriwyn admitted. “Part of me wants to rip you apart and present the pieces to this lovely woman. The problem with that is, she’d be drenched in your blood, and while there are some who might find that hot, I’m not one of them.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Grann said. “I’ve yet to find something that really gets those pesky stains out.”
Corriwyn smiled down at her. It was easy to see he was smitten. He had that same glazed-over look that Dre got every time Sammy’s name was mentioned.
“Then what would you suggest?” he asked.
Grann grinned. “Well, he is a cockroach. Maybe, if he had to live life as one for, say, a year, he might learn manners. Ooh, or he could be a dung beetle. Imagine the fun he’d have in rolling balls of poo for a whole year!” She cackled.
Corriwyn chuckled. “You have an evil soul, my dear. I think you and I could have so much fun together.”
Jon couldn’t believe it. They were openly flirting. His Grann didn’t flirt. She was his Grann! One look at Calixte, who made a face like she’d bitten into a lemon, told him she was as horrified as he was…or sick. She did look a bit green around the gills.
“Let me down, move lespri!” Fabien screeched, squirming in Corriwyn’s grip like a worm on a hook. Corriwyn and Barion shared a look. Then Corriwyn turned to Grann.
“Bel leve, would you mind terribly if I dumped this rude piece of crap in another dimension? I know just the place. The rats there are huge.” He winked.
“Then he should feel right at home, even though I’m afraid I’m insulting rats as a whole here.” Grann did a courtesy…a freaking courtesy. “Do with him as you see fit, but return swiftly to my home so I can thank you properly, bote nob.”
“It will be my pleasure, bel leve.”
With his free hand, Corriwyn opened a rift and stepped through it. Barion stared at Grann. “I helped too, you know.”
“I do, and you were great.” Grann was looking at the two mind slaves who were still standing beneath the branches of the oak tree. She sighed. “Calixte, cherie, would you hand me my purse, please?”
