Accidental Summoning Ch. 03

Father let him take a few more swallows, then cleared his throat. "So. We have a lot to discuss."

"I guess so, sir. I didn't want to piss off Desdemona, but...I was kidnapped, after all."

"Yeah, Des is a bit of a hothead. That's what makes her such a good protector. I am surprised she wants to put her sigil on you, though. For a long time she's been more of a love-em-and-leave-em type." Father took a sip of his soda. "Ah! Anyways, I agree that would have been better for her to go through, heh, 'normal channels', but what's done is done. So I guess it's time for you to make the choice you didn't get to make before. Go or stay."

Paul felt a little lift in his stomach. Might he actually be able to leave?

Father gave him a twinkling look over his half-moon glasses. "However, I would much prefer that you stay. There are larger issues at play here, so let me plead my case. If you don't agree by the end of that explanation, well, we'll figure out something else. And no, that 'something else' will not involve throwing you into lava."

Paul took a shaky drink of his soda. "Why bother explaining? I mean, you can just make the decision. I'm nobody special to you."

"You're right about that. But Des is special to me, and she really is happier than I've seen her in centuries. That's why I want you with her. And if you're here voluntarily, your pairing will work out better in the long run. When you're over ten thousand years old like me, you try to take the long view."

Paul took a deep breath. "Okay, sir. I'm listening."

"How much has Des told you about the whole domesticated-timelines thing?"

The young man shrugged. "She's told me a little bit. She made allusions to the Pax Romana, and that you take over Earth timelines in order to have humans for breeding." A sudden, horrifying thought struck him. "Oh, shit-burgers."

"What is it?"

"Desdemona and I have been screwing like rabbits these last few days. With no protection."

Father smiled. "You're worried you might have knocked her up?"

"Sir, I'm more worried she might have knocked me up."

The demon lord gave another booming laugh. "Don't worry, it turns out that demon-to-human mating isn't particularly fertile. It'll take a lot of screwing to cause a pregnancy. And if there is a child, Des will be the one carrying it."

"Oh. That's a relief."

Father smiled. "It's more accurate to say that demons use humans for sexual purposes, rather than breeding. It does turn out that humans can interbreed with demons. But that's more of a happy accident."

Paul thought back on some of the things Desdemona told him. "Demons have to dominate in order to be sexually satisfied. But they don't like to be dominated. So you use humans as a sort of sexual relief valve."

Father nodded. "And therefore humanity is valuable to demonkind. But it turns out the Earth itself is valuable to other entities. It's one of the few life-bearing planets around. And therefore it's attracted the attention of something we call the Foe."

The young man took another sip. "Is that different from the...what was it...Alkenor that Desdemona mentioned?"

"The Alkenor are one of the client species of the Foe."

"So this Foe, are they super-advanced aliens or something?"

Father's face was very somber. "No. It's much worse than that. Let me show you."

The demon lord raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and they were both suddenly standing in the middle of a frozen city street.

Paul looked around and thought it might be London based on some of the taxicabs, but he wasn't certain. It was night. A thick layer of ice and rime lay over everything. The buildings, the cars, the streetlights...everything was covered in a thick white layer. The sky overhead was dark, utterly dark. There wasn't a single star showing, and only the waning moon gave any light.

The moon looked...wrong. Its surface was unnaturally featureless, as if it had been polished into a billard-ball shape. Then Paul realized it was not waning as he'd thought. There was a huge section of the moon that was simply gone, like an apple with a bite taken out of it.

His heart beat faster as he looked down at the scene around him again. In spite of his lack of clothes, he wasn't freezing. But he did feel a slight chill seeping through whatever protection Father had placed on him, and he could see his expelled breath freeze into ice crystals the moment it left his mouth.

There were odd frost-covered lumps scattered here and there on the street. They didn't seem to have any uniform shape, and Paul couldn't figure out what they were at first. Then he had a heart-freezing realization that those lumps were people. They were stuck in various poses of anguish and shock, similar to the figures frozen in ash that he'd once seen at Pompeii.

"Oh my God," Paul whispered.

"God's not here," said Father. "And if there is a creator of the cosmos, they're a strictly hands-off kind of deity." He looked around with sadness. "There's no God, just us. The Foe got to this timeline before we could. You know something about entropy? Well, life is about one of the most anti-entropic things around. The Foe is a...god? Entity? Something that spans many timelines and feeds on highly anti-entropic worlds like the Earth."

"And so you fight to stop it." Paul looked down and realized with a little bit of manic humor that he was still holding his can of soda in the middle of this frozen apocalypse.

Father snapped his fingers again, and they were now back in the shop. Paul set down his soda on the central table and rubbed his face with both hands for a while. "My timeline," he said finally. "Is it in danger too?"

"Not right now," replied Father. "How should I explain it? Your brain can't comprehend n-space timeline geometry. Sometimes, I'm not sure if even I fully get it. But you can think of the domesticated timelines as 'closer' to those currently drained by the Foe. The Foe can't move that far in n-space; it's is too big to make more than little 'hops'."

Paul felt a little relief in that. "So in order to get to my timeline, the Foe would need to set up a 'beachhead' in those that you control."

"And Des is a big part of keeping that 'beachhead' from forming," said Father. "So we've come back around to your choice. If you stay, Des will be happy. A happy Desdemona will fight that much more forcefully for humanity. You will be, indirectly, helping every human in your own timeline plus hundreds of others."

"That's if I stay," mused Paul.

"If you stay. And it's not that bad here. You've already had a taste of what it would be like. It may be different from Earth, but you know that you will be well taken care of."

Paul shrugged. "I know. That's actually something I'm worried about. I don't want to just be kept as a pet. It would be nice to have some real work to do."

Father tilted his head. "Well, I know about your facility for ancient languages and sorting through old texts. And, as a happy coincidence, I have a head librarian who's always bitching that he can't get any decent assistants."

Paul couldn't help but mentally salivate at the notion of getting a chance to go through the library in this place. Who knows how many timelines had their greatest works archived here?

Father gave him a grin. He must have picked up on Paul's interest. "Anyway, we should get back. Des is going to be getting anxious."

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Sure enough, when they reappeared in the throne room Desdemona's prehensile tail was lashing around like that of a nervous cat. She gave Paul a worried look that spoke volumes. The demon must have intuited that Paul had been given the choice to stay or go.

"Father?" she said. "I hope all is...well." Her face was drawn with worry. "I sense you have given him a choice."

The demon lord also looked serious. "Des, you know it will be better for both of you in the long run if he is here voluntarily." He looked over at Paul over his half-moon glasses. "Well, my boy?"

Now that he knew the true stakes, Paul was at a loss. Before Father's presentation of frozen London, Paul would have leaped at the chance to leave. But now, if he left, he would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. It seemed unlikely for the Foe to reach his Earth, but if it did...and he could have, however indirectly, done something to stop it...no, he couldn't take that chance.

As he drew breath to speak, Desdemona's eyes flickered up to his and then back down. He saw the sadness behind that glance, and realized that she must think he was going to opt for leaving. That last look decided him for sure. Desdemona could be infuriating. And she had kidnapped him, but that kidnapping had been due to a puppy-like enthusiasm that he couldn't help but love. And Paul wasn't about to go around kicking puppies.

"I'm staying," Paul said. Then his world went dark and his head was surrounded by the firm softness of Desdemona's tits as she hugged him. He felt her cock-tail wrap itself around the both of them in an almost rib-creaking embrace.

She was actually babbling."OhPaulyouwon'tregretthis! Iwillmakeyousosohappy!OhPaulthankyouthankyouthankyou..."

"Let him breathe, Des," said Father with a chuckle.

She let go of her fierce embrace, only to give him a kiss that was equally fierce. Paul surprised himself by returning it just as ardently. For once, she didn't choke him with her tongue.

Father was the one who actually did the 'spell', or whatever it was, that set up Paul's sigil. The demon lord's hand traced in the air over Paul's head while both he and Desdemona chanted in their guttural native tongue. When it was over, Paul didn't feel any different. He knew it was probably a silly thing to do, but when they had finished he felt around with his hand at the air above his head. There was nothing that he could feel, of course.

Desdemona kissed his forehead. "Now you look even more fetching. And I think we've taken up enough of Father's time."

Father waved a hand and gave a booming laugh. "Believe me, this is a nice change of pace from all of the dreary political crap I usually have to deal with. Go have fun, you crazy kids."

They left the way they'd come, although this time Paul was ready for the one-hundred-eighty degree gravity flip. Unfortunately, it wasn't until they were back ashore that he realized he'd forgotten to ask Father about getting some pants.

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Paul wound up going by himself to Hastur's market. Once ashore, Desdemona had pointed him in the right direction and said she had 'a few things to organize'. She didn't elaborate further. He was able to find it without problem, and mercifully most everybody there spoke English. He was proficient in multiple languages, but English was what he was most comfortable with.

The place reminded him of a European market, with many little booths laid out in a grid pattern. Most of the booths had humans behind the counter, and the few that had demons were selling things that were completely alien and baffling to him.

Fortunately, it turned out he didn't need any cash. He wasn't sure exactly how the money system here worked. Given that magic was in use, they might be closer to some kind of post-scarcity economy. It seemed that the sigil over his head was all that he needed here; anything he bought was apparently put on Desdemona's 'tab'. He did catch a glimpse of himself in a sheet of glass, and saw his sigil for the first time. It was red, of course, and looked a little like an abstract dagger floating point-up over his head. At least it wasn't point-down, he mused. That would look like he was forever in danger of getting stabbed in the skull.

He 'bought' some pens, paper, and ink. Then he also got some silverware as well as a few other odds and ends, plus a bag to carry it all in. The next part wasn't so great. He had to go up to one of the 'xemites', the big beasts that looked kind of like skinned spiders, and ask it for a ride back up to Desdemona's dwelling. Getting picked up in those red mandibles was bad enough, but getting carried up the side of that impossibly huge building to the penthouse was even worse. This time, he kept his eyes shut until they were up on the ledge. Paul gave the big animal the required fare of a good scratching on its head and then went inside. Apparently his sigil now also acted as a door key, since the doors to Desdemona's dwelling opened without incident.

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Paul tapped the quill pen absently against his mouth while he read over what he'd written to Liselle.

Dear Leesy-Butt. You know I'm the only one who calls you that. Do you remember the hole in the wall of the garage that we successfully hid behind Dad's toolbox? Nobody ever found out about that. Hopefully that's enough to convince you that this is really from me. I know you're frantic about my disappearance, so the main reason I'm writing is to let you know that I am safe and well.

The young man looked to his side and the big picture window that overlooked the sea of flame. Well, 'safe and well' might be relative terms here. He turned back to the letter.

I can't say much about where I am right now. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And it's safer if you don't know. How's that for some mysterious spy-drama bullshit? Drama aside, I think it is important for me to stay here. And that is another thing I want you to know. I could have left here, but I chose to stay. Just know that I love you, and I'm thinking of you. I will write you as often as possible. Your brother, Paul-Pooper.

That last part was something that Desdemona had offered in her rush of excitement over Paul's staying. It wouldn't be often, maybe every year or so, but it would sure be better than nothing. He wondered if it might be possible to somehow let Liselle get letters back to him. Desdemona was, for obvious reasons, not going to meet his sister face-to-face when dropping the letter off. He'd asked the demon how she was going to do it, but Des had just smiled and told him not to worry.

He read through it one last time, then folded the paper neatly and used a little kit he'd purchased to put a wax seal on it.

The main door opened, and Desdemona came almost bouncing in. "It's all set," she said brightly as she walked towards him.

Paul smiled at her. "Are you going to tell me what 'it' is, or is it a surprise?"

She gave him a sharp-toothed smile back. "We have to do something special to celebrate. I think surprises are more fun." She looked at the note in his hand. "Is it ready?"

He nodded. "As ready as it can be. Thanks again for doing this."

She took the note from him while leaning forward to lick the end of his nose. "It is my pleasure, dearest Consort." The demon pointed a thumb back towards the bedroom. "I've just had the bath drawn for you. Make sure you scrub well before I get back."

Paul was a little surprised. "You're going now?"

"Of course. There's no reason to wait. Now go get nice and clean, so we can get good and dirty later on."

VWAP.

Paul was alone in the room. He shook his head. "I am never going to get used to that," he muttered, and went off to take a bath.

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The tub had been automatically filled with water, and there was something added to it that gave off a subtle cedar-like scent. Paul took his time as he scrubbed himself clean everywhere. He wondered with a little bit of excitement what Desdemona had planned for later on. And, to be honest, he felt a little bit of trepidation as well. Whatever 'it' turned out to be, he could hardly complain. He had signed up for it, after all.

Paul's thoughts turned to the thought of getting a chance to work in Hastur's library. If there wasn't such a thing as a demon-to-human dictionary, maybe he could write the first one. Hell, maybe he could find clues for some sort of super-spell to kill the Foe once and for all.

He stepped out of the tub and wished there was some way to towel off. In the arid climate of this place, he was dry quickly. But it still didn't feel like a proper bath without a towel. Paul stretched his arms over his head as he strolled out into the main room and felt a nice little crackle in his spine. He began to walk over to the main window, but then caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun.

There was a slender green demon lounging on one of the low Roman-style couches in the center of the room. She was lying in the classic 'centerfold' pose, and her amused yellow gaze flicked up and down his body as he stared in surprise at her.

"Well, hello there," she said. Her voice was familiar, and he realized he'd seen her before, in the plaza when he'd first arrived here.

"Um, hello. You're...Alichino? I'm Paul."

She gave a graceful nod. "A pleasure."

He remembered there was some kind of water-sharing ritual that Desdemona had done with him when he'd first arrived at her dwelling. He walked over to the basin in the room's center and scooped up a mug of water. Alichino smoothly rolled off of the couch and stalked over to him. He held out the mug and tried to remember the words. "I give you the gift of water in a dry place, guest of my, er, Desdemona's house."

Alichino drank a little from the mug. "I accept your gift gratefully, and give my thanks to those of this house. I see that Desdemona has scored herself a polite one."

When talking with a beautiful but as-yet-unfamiliar woman, Paul's normal tendency was to put his hands in his pockets. That wouldn't work in his current pants-less condition, so he nervously drummed his fingers on his thighs instead. "I'm sorry you were waiting around. Desdemona's not here right now, and I didn't hear you come in. I was taking a bath." His mind began working furiously. Was she supposed to be in here? Surely demons had 'magic' locks or something to prevent people from just barging in?

Alichino leaned forward and sniffed. "I can tell. You smell nice." She tilted her head. "But much less...spicy than before. How exactly did you meet Desdemona?"

Crap. He was pretty sure that, whoever this person was, they shouldn't know about his true origin. "Oh, you know, the usual way."

"Mmm hmm. And what way is that?"

"The usual." Paul figured that elaborating on the lie would just get him into trouble. "I don't want to speak out of turn, in case Desdemona wanted to tell you herself."

She smiled and her eyes narrowed. "I see." Alichino was a little shorter than Paul, and had the lean form of a long-distance runner. Her skin was a deep green and she had pale gray nipples and hair. Her face was more rounded and friendly than Desdemona's angular features, but Paul was not fooled for a moment by that apparent friendliness. She reached out a hand and traced a sharp nail along one of Paul's arms. The touch made him twitch a little. "So what errand is she running?" she asked.

Paul definitely knew he shouldn't tell her about Desdemona's trip to his timeline. "Um, she didn't say. Something about a surprise."

Alichino stepped closer. He could smell a faint floral scent from her, different than Desdemona's earthy smell. "I'm sure it will be a nice one," she purred. Her eyes stared deep into his.

Paul cleared his throat. "Would you like some more water?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Please, let us sit. And talk."

She seated herself primly on a couch. He sat on one of the couches next to hers, but then she just smiled and re-seated herself next to him. Alichino's body heat was less obvious than Desdemona's, but she was close enough for him to definitely feel it.

"So, Paul, what is your profession?"