Alexis Ep. 1 - Deceit

Alexis

Episode One: Deceit

         It was nighttime in the endless planar metropolis of Tome. The sky was artificially dark, and magically generated clouds blotted out the twinkling simulated stars. Many of the windows in the soaring apartment and office buildings still shone with light - candle, electric, and Spellfire - but most people were dreaming, safe in their beds. Some were snoring peacefully, while others tossed in their blankets, reeling from nightmares, terrified of their next days of work.
         But not many people near the legendary Citadel of Light hated their lives. Here were peoples of principle and duty and religion. Humans, elves, dwarves, wolfkin, and the Celestials of Light themselves called this place “home,” and they were very safe there. Set in southern Sanctuary, a northern province of Tome, the Citadel had watched over the innocent and the pure for thousands of years. It was one of the first structures ever built in the city, and the Celestials who lived there were well-deserving of their reputation.
          Under the fake stars and clouds, a lone figure strode up to the commanding gates of the Citadel, her heels clicking on the pavement. She was pale-skinned, and her pale blonde hair fell limp and wavy around her sweet face. She was wearing a long tan coat, white heel-shoes, and a pair of nylons that darkened her legs. She was heartbreakingly beautiful.
          “Halt,” barked one of the four sentries, holding back a yawn. Two others were staring down at her. “What’s a Guardian doing outside the walls?” he demanded.
          The woman looked to him. A flash of nervous fear slid across her sharp green eyes, and she swallowed. “I...” she started. “I had an errand.”
          “What kind?”
          “Um.. woman issues,” the woman mumbled, looking down. Her voice cracked.
          “Alright,” agreed the spokesman, smirking to himself. “Name and rank then, and where you’re planning on going.”
          “Larah Whiterose, Watcher second class, sir. I’m not on active field duty though, I’m serving here instead. And uh.. well, I’m going to talk with Executor Thoroughgood about something. He’s my boss.”
          “Right then. Sleep well, Guardian Whiterose. Light be with you.”
          The woman nodded and smiled nervously but didn’t return his words. The imposing gate rose to admit her, and without another word, she entered the Citadel of Light, her hands in her coat pockets.
          Quickly and followed only by the sound of her heels, she made her way through the Citadel, eyeing the magnificent buildings and soaring architecture with a look of admiration. It wasn’t long before she stopped before a modest house near the north wall. Wrought gilded lettering on the post-box read: “Hammond Thoroughgood, Executor, 99th infantry.” Without a second look, she crossed the tiny front yard to the door and rang the bell.
          It was a few minutes before the sound of an old man’s tired grumbling came from inside.
          The peek-hole squeaked open and in it appeared an eye.
          “Great Light above,” said Thoroughgood, eyeing his guest. “Whiterose?”
          “Executor Thoroughgood,” she said, too shy to meet his gaze. She was fidgeting. “I know this.. is a terrible breach of protocol...”
          “Oh by the Light, not at all!” said Thoroughgood worriedly. In a mild haste he shut the peek-hole and opened the door. He was an aging Celestial, losing both the gold in his hair and his majestic posture, but there was a wise sadness in his eyes. He’d lost many friends in his day. “What can I do for my favorite Guardian angel?”
          “I’m sorry..” the woman stammered. She was looking anywhere but at him. “It’s late, maybe I should..” She looked off, as though wishing she were somewhere else.
          “No no,” said Thoroughgood. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. For a moment he thought she exhaled at his touch. “I’m just worried, what do you need at two in the morning?”
          But still, she seemed unable to speak; she only kept staring off uneasily. “I....”
          Thoroughgood smirked softly. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll put on some coffee.”
          She nodded and let him guide her inside. She refused his offer to take her coat, and several curious minutes later, they were across from each other in the Executor’s sitting room. She still hadn’t met his gaze.
          “So, what’s this pressing thing on your mind that couldn’t have waited till tomorrow? It seems pretty serious. You’re not in any trouble, are you?”
          She sighed. “It’s really nothing. Maybe it was stupid of me to come here.”
          “No,” chuckled Thoroughgood, grinning at her. “You’re many things, but you’re not stupid. Don’t you always have a reason to come to me? Remember Rhudriel, that good-looking Seraph?”
          She nodded.
          “You knew what you were doing, coming to me. Remember what I told you?”
          She smirked a little, as if remembering.
          “I told you the heart of a Seraph is like an autumn wind, always changing his direction. You can never be sure what they want, can you? Well, except for what all guys want from a pretty young thing like you,” he added with a grin.
          She was looking off.
          “And anyway, you know that kind of thing is forbidden before retirement. Romance and letting it cloud your judgment and all that. Wasn’t a good idea to get tangled up in it, the Lady Commander might not have been forgiving. We’re at war.”
          Finally she looked at him. She looked as though her worst fears had been realized.
          “So what do you need, Whiterose?”
          “Larah,” she whispered.
          “Larah,” he repeated, smiling. “First names then? You can call me Hammond. Or Ham if you want, that’s what my mates called me, years ago.”
          “Hammond,” she exhaled. Somewhere in him, he became aware of her chest, rising and falling evenly, just a little too deeply.
         “What is it, Larah?” he said with finality and impatience. He was watching her levelly; there was something in her shyness that worried him.
         “Executor,” she said finally, looking down. An honest confession is never a lie, no matter how unlikely. “Hammond. I’ve been your secretary for six months. You’re an honorable man, and an incredible strategist. I can’t even start remembering all the amazing things you’ve done for the Light’s cause. I can’t count all the times the Infernals have tried to get rid of you, but they all failed. They even sent a succubus to impersonate your wife, but her disguise wasn’t good enough for you.”
         Thoroughgood’s smile grew and his eyes twinkled.
         “You mentioned the Seraph,” she went on.
         “That I did,” he nodded. “Rhudriel, strong will, serves the Light well.”
         She nodded. “Well, he was.. I mean, it was just a girlish dream. He didn’t mean as much to me as..” She hesitated.
         “As what?”
         She met his gaze, her eyes shining with tears. “As you.”
         Speechless, Executor Thoroughgood stared at her, his lips parting. “Me?”
         Silent as a thought, she stood and went over to him, crouched before him, gazing up in his eyes with a wanton, desperate need. Her hand was on his knee.
         Unsure what to do, Thoroughgood stuttered several things. Finally he settled with: “Whiterose... Larah.. I.. I’m not sure I know what you mean-” But he was cut off by her abrupt and passionate kiss, her hand clutching the fabric of his robe at his knee. She exhaled desperately, her heart pounding with the fury of vengeful war drums.
         Too hesitantly, he pulled away. He stared at her madly, searching for the joke. She stared back, a wild desire open and unafraid in her eyes.
         Quickly he stood up and took several steps away. He exhaled, wiped his face with his hands, tried desperately to force out the images blinding his thoughts. Images, scenarios, the things he could do to her if she wanted him like this. It was impossible to resist! He held his head, his breathing taken a few steps quicker. “This is mad, Whiterose! I’m a married man, and way too old for you!”
         “Please,” she whispered behind him. “I need you...”
         Without realizing it he started wondering how it might be to unbutton that coat of hers, slide down the nylons. Light, if she’d come to his house with this in mind, maybe she’d worn nothing underneath. Maybe that was why she hadn’t let him take her coat...
         He heard her stand up, knew she was coming closer, but as if entranced he couldn’t step away. She pressed against his back, her hand exploring the front of his robe, her generous breasts smashing against his shoulderblades every time she inhaled. She whispered by his ear, her eyes shut against the passion, “I want you inside me... please.. no one needs to know..”
         “What’s.. what’s come over you, Larah?” he stammered, resolved to keep up a firm defense. But even as the seconds fell away, he knew his defenses were weakening.
         “You have. Everything about you; at first it was how great you are, your history, your head for battle strategy.. then it was the way you walk, your smile, the way your eyes almost close when you laugh... Why do you think I transferred from the front lines? I love you...”
         Slowly, as if entranced, he turned and stared down at her. She stared back, her lips parted. There was no resisting her. With a final feeble thought about the consequences, he leaned in and accepted her offer.
         Half an hour later they were laying together in his bed, his seed drying on her thigh. Both were still panting softly. Her eyes were closed, a satisfied, almost smug look on her face. He was facing away from her.
         “This can’t stay a secret for long, Larah,” he said softly. “Even if we try, the Light knows what we’ve done. My wife will learn. We can’t hide it forever. And you know what’ll happen.”
         She smirked.
         “It’ll be our careers. Nuts to that, our very lives! We’ll be run off, cut off from the Light. We’ll have to eke out a living in the city. We’ll be vulnerable to Infernals, the Light will have no power to guard us. Part of me... part of me wishes this never happened.”
         “Mmmm,” she mumbled, and rolled over to spoon against his back. “It’ll be okay.”
         He sighed. “I wish I had your confidence. You don’t know what the Lady Commander can sniff out. She’s an incredible woman, that one.”
         “So am I,” she muttered. She ran her hands through his hair.
         “Light knows, but..”
         “Oh stop whining, you pathetic over-the-hill prune,” she said, grinning. He blinked confusedly. She continued. “You have a gorgeous young blonde pressed against you who wants your dried-up body and loves you, and all you can think about is how you’ll be vulnerable to Infernals?!” Her hand in his hair stopped.
         “I.. I just..”
         “Doesn’t matter,” she whispered slyly, coming close to his ear. “No Infernal can get you, right?”
         Without another word she drove an ivory-handled dagger through his back, her other hand clamped over his mouth, cruelly holding back his scream of pain. Hesitating only long enough to shift for a better grip, she stabbed him again, and again, and again, clutching him to her viciously, a violent sneer and a look of malicious excited pleasure across her face. Within moments, he fell limp in her arms, and she relaxed.
         She yawned and shoved aside the corpse and lay back, her head pillowed on her hands, her ankles crossed. She sneered as she remembered what he’d left on her thigh, and irritably wiped it away. She looked once more at his vacant, terror-struck eyes, sneered, and slipped out of bed.
         Naked, she crossed to a superb painting of Lady Commander Diana Valourcall, leader-in-arms of the entire Celestial nation. Resplendent in a flattering suit of grimly silver plate armor, her hand on a blood-stained lance stuck in the red dirt, she was looking off with a gentle steadfastness toward the edge of the picture. Sun-richened golden hair was tossed behind her in a harsh wind, challenging her resolve and the resolve of the legions of proud Celestial warriors behind her. It was inspiring. Disgust spread across the woman’s face and she remembered just in time that it wasn’t a good idea to wreck the things in the room - that would be more than suspicious.
         She took the picture down, revealing a heavy metallic safe set into the wall. She turned the dial four times and it clicked open. Inside was a fat tan folder, messy and unorganized. She removed it, flipped through it, and nodded to herself before replacing the Lady Commander’s stirring portrait.
         Finally she turned back to the body of Hammond Thoroughgood, Executor. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and dressed herself. Carefully she wiped the ivory-handled dagger on the sheet and deposited it in her pocket, and with that she left the house.
         The night was empty and chilly and windless. The streets of the Citadel of Light, beautifully paved, resembled an earthly heaven. Spellfire-powered streetlights lined the roads, their glows like snoring faeries, pastel and humble, almost evanescent.
         But despite the calm the woman was in a hurry. The clicking of her heels came heavy and quick, not pausing or slowing even for a moment. The risk of the Executor’s body being found prematurely was, while not extremely worrying, a threat to be considered.
         A gaudy sign ahead proudly named the street she was on, Envagus First West. After she turned onto the The Blade of Justice, she had changed into a different woman entirely. Her pale blonde hair had richened to a sun-darkened gold, her sharp green eyes had cooled to a gentle blue, and her cheeks had sunken in, giving her the firm steadfast appearance of a hardened but patient female leader.
         The real Larah Whiterose took longer to answer the door than the Executor had, but she did finally open the door and squint out at the woman, blinded by even the light of the streetlamps. “What..” she grumbled, blinked at her stupidly.
         “Larah Whiterose,” said the woman, her voice now deep and resonant and commanding. “This is a matter of security, I need to talk to you privately.”
         Whiterose blinked uncomprehendingly at her. “Lady Commander...? It’s three in the morning..”
         “The time isn’t important, girl, I need to see you inside. Please.”
         Finally the angel’s eyes seemed to see and she nodded, opening her door wide enough for her Lady Commander to squeeze by.
         “What can I do for the Light, my Lady?” said Larah as she led the woman into the sitting room, sounding a bit overcome.
         “Your boss, Executor Thoroughgood, was found tonight by the Moonstalkers. He was dead in his house.”
         She gasped and stopped dead, whirling around to stare at the woman. “You can’t be serious!” she whispered.
         The woman nodded. “I’m afraid I am.”
         “Well what can I do?!” said Larah, upset tears welling up in her sharp green eyes.
         They talked for a while, sitting in the small living room of Larah’s apartment. Larah couldn’t seem to stop sobbing and raving about how wonderful the man had always been, and how she’d always admired his spirit. When the woman was sure Larah’s eyes were red enough with tears, she paused.
         “You know, there is something you can do.” Besides rolling over and dying, along with the rest of your pathetic kind.
         Larah stopped crying for a moment and looked to her. “Anything, Lady Commander.”
         The woman smirked. “You can be the one who killed him.”
         It wasn’t hard to kill her. Guardian Archons weren’t the strongest caste of Celestials, and this one was taken very much by surprise. The hard part was controlling the flow of blood so that she could be laid naked in her bed, the ivory-handled dagger spilling from her hand, and look exactly as though she’d done it herself right there, torn up inside over what she’d done to the venerable Executor.
         Satisfied with the scene she’d created, the woman produced a small platinum watch from her pocket and pressed one of its many buttons.
         “Operation completed as ordered, Command,” she sighed into it. “It was nowhere near as hard as everyone made it out to be.” With that, she snapped shut the pocket watch, changed to look like a pretty human woman with long black hair, and left the Citadel of Light.

         The Celestials of Tome and the Infernals of Sar Toreikas had been at odds for thousands of years. No creature alive remembered how it had all begun (or even if there were a beginning), nor could anyone piece together a workable chronicle, but many insightful historians agreed that the intensity of their hate had run the gamut - from tentative peace and grudging respect and trust, to open war. Why the two peoples had been constantly at each others’ throats for so long, without any sign that it would ever end, was anyone’s guess.
         Within the last few decades, however, the Celestials had become aggressive and militaristic. Spurred by the words of their leaders, they had battled relentlessly, forging deep into the barren red wastelands the Infernals called home, their resolve only growing stronger with each victory they sustained. The Infernals provided challenging sport for the Celestial war machine, but no one could deny that they were steadily losing ground.
         It was a vicious conflict. Hatred and violence were open and very unforgiving; some considered it treason to even begin to think compassionately for the enemy. Both sides were guilty of underhanded tactics, and that was where the shape-changing woman came in.
         Her name was Soulrend. She was a member of the Eclipse Battalion of the Infernal army - a succubus. In her real form she was short and delicately built and blue-skinned, with cunning black eyes and silky black hair. Her vicious kind of beauty was undeniable, but like all succubi and incubi, she could change her physical appearance and voice at will, perfectly mimicking almost any bipedal person she could imagine; a handy tool for espionage, and one that the commanders of the Infernal army didn’t use sparingly.
         The morning following her success with the Executor found her at the office of 2nd Lieutenant Azrol Kraver, her commanding officer.
         “Come in,” was the unconcerned answer to her knock. She sighed and obeyed. She wasn’t looking forward to this.
         Kraver looked up from the innards of the tan folder she’d stolen. “This is great stuff,” he said. “This is really going to help, Eight-three. Good work.”
         “It’s Soulrend. Sir,” she mumbled, eyeing him. She was wearing black military slacks and a black tank top.
         “To you and your friends perhaps,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But to Command, you’re the eighth operative of the third division of the Battalion, so that’s what you are to me.”
         She didn’t respond. You mean, that’s what you’ll settle for.
         “Anyway, sit down.” She obeyed. “Like I was saying, this is some top-notch inside information. Some real disasters we’ll be able to prevent. Did you know the blighters were planning a moonlit party at Div Thazaragon? Well, we’ll be ready for them now. And as an added bonus, one of their best tacticians is on permanent vacation.”
         She nodded. She was vaguely aware of the war on the front lines, and that her successes saved Infernal life. She didn’t care much.
         Kraver continued. “And it’s good you made it back so quick, as we’ve got another little chore for you.”
         “So soon? Don’t I get a day off?”
         “This is a war, bright-eyes. None of us get days off. Plus, Command is very impressed with you.”
         She rolled her eyes, unsurprised he’d missed her sarcasm, but annoyed nevertheless. “Well, who’s the mark then?”
         “Straight to business, good. I’ve always liked that about you. The mark is a tubby trader we think’s been supplying answers to any Celestial who asks, answers we don’t really want the blighters to have.”
         “I see,” she mused. “So this is a straight up hit?”
         “Well, that gets complicated. The guy makes deliveries of certain goods from Tome to here, and even though Command is sure of his guilt, I’m not. And even Command admits his value as an inside non-Infernal, someone who knows what’s going on here and doesn’t mind, or take sides. Officially, anyway.”
         “Lieutenant, the guy’s only out for his three coppers, of course he doesn’t mind. Tome is busting its pants with people like that. He’s disposable.”
         He eyed her for a moment. “Command agrees with you, Eight-three. They want him deader than yesterday’s toilet paper. I told them I’d send you, but I have a different operation in mind.”
         “Which is?”
         “Try and get a confession from him first. I want to make sure he’s selling us out before I go and cut off something valuable.”
         What are you talking about? That part of you has never been valuable. To anyone.
         “Think you can do that, Eight-three?”
         “Not a problem,” she shrugged. “When and where?”
         “Anytime within the next forty hours, and I’ll get you the details shortly. And remember Eight-three, as always, if you’re captured, you don’t exist to us.”
         She nodded to herself; she knew very well. “I want to ask about the double agent I keep hearing about. Are we sure we’re safe here?”
         Unexpectedly, a dark look came over Kraver’s deeply lined face, as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun. “Someone’s drunken mistake, that’s all. Command has reassured me that there’s nothing to fear. Don’t tell me you believe it?”
         “It’s just what I’ve heard, sir,” said Soulrend smoothly. “Someone who looks demonic but answers to angels.”
         “Personally,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I think it might be Celestial fear tactics, meant to disorient and weaken us. Make us scared.”
         “They’re not doing a very good job, are they?” she said.
         “I suppose not. Do you think it’s true?” He looked at her with judging suspicion.
         “That there’s someone inside Belventh getting angelic paychecks?”
         He nodded. She watched him for a moment, putting together a good response. It wasn’t hard.
         “I think it’s not impossible, but I’m not going to let myself get paranoid. They’re not that smart anyway.”
         He smirked, satisfied. “No, they aren’t, are they? Oh, and don’t forget the Officer assembly later tonight in Undergeneral Vessith’s office. You get to attend those now, remember?”
         “I remember. Responsibility coming with the neat new colors, I know. We’ll see you around,” she said. Be sure to continue not bathing, it’s really attractive.
         “Oh, Soulrend?” he said before she could get to the door. She turned to look at him; he was grinning proudly. “You’re doing great things. I hear General Vronin is personally pleased with you. You’re a pile of ambition, and Command likes that. As far as I’m concerned, it’s only a matter of time before you’re Chief of Intelligence and you won’t have to do their bull-headed bidding anymore.”
         She smirked, winked at him, and left his office. She knew.
         Belventh Keep was a fairly secluded stronghold deep in Infernal territory, and it served as an unofficial headquarters for the Information Battalion - a staging point for most of their espionage activity. A magnificent bastion of Infernal power and militaristic influence, it was well-defended and visually intimidating, snugly nestled at the mouth of a fabulously large and winding canyon, guarded on both sides by thousand-foot cliff faces. To tactically bypass it would take an enemy several months of travel in either direction.
         A few hours of relaxation would do nicely before she set off for her next assignment. A hot bath, a steam, a nice meal, and a nap were all really inviting. And maybe some sex I can actually enjoy, too.
         “Hey, Rend!” said a chirpy voice when she got to her locker in the shower room. A big-eyed succubus with wispy black hair and deep blue skin was dressing by Soulrend’s locker - Harvestina, one of Soulrend’s close friends. She was young and enjoyed life, but she’d never achieve what Soulrend would.
         “Hey Harvest,” grinned Soulrend, unbuttoning her blouse. “How’d your date go?”
         “Eh,” she shrugged. “Dinner was decent, but he just wouldn’t shut up about this human he just broke up with! First time I’ve ever felt like the third wheel on a date with two people.”
         Soulrend smirked. “Did you fuck?”
         “Oh hells no,” groaned Harvest. “I was so ridiculously turned off. Plus, I was a little afraid of what I’d find if I went snooping around in his head.”
         “I would be too, men like that tend to be a little...” Pathetic.
         “Dependant.”
         “Yep.”
         They dressed in silence for a few moments, before Harvest spoke up. “Oh, congrats on your job! I was worried about you, that officer Celestial guy was supposed to be tough.”
         “Nah,” said Soulrend, smirking softly. “It wasn’t the ridiculous challenge everyone made it out to be. They kept trying to echo the guy’s wife. He was too old to fuck his wife, I figured he was about the age to be having an affair with a hot young co-worker.”
         “I heard you threw in a bonus,” grinned Harvest, watching her. She did up one button on her dress shirt and let the rest hang open.
         “Well, I doubt it’ll make any difference, but maybe when they find the murder weapon in the secretary’s blood, they’ll start wondering. ‘Hey guys, maybe we aren’t as prudish as we thought!’”
         Harvest grinned. “So, you echoed his secretary, then framed her?”
         Soulrend nodded, a proud twinkle in her eyes.
         “Godsdamn, you are good!”
         “I know.”
         “I also heard you got a new assignment already, gonna tell me about it?”
         “Why not?”

         Fifty miles or so northwest of the Citadel of Light, in the province of Evergreen, was a decent-sized store complex amidst a modest community of middle-class families. One such store was called Barter This, and was little more than a weapons thrift store. The panel above the door proudly hinted about “Much More,” but Soulrend got the feeling it was a few pieces of crumbling furniture or something.
         The owner was as tubby as Kraver had reported. What little greasy hair he had left stuck to his head as if clinging for dear life. He had only two chins, but the bottom one was fatter than the real one. His eyes were small but vicious, and there was a dishonesty in his smile. Soulrend hoped she wouldn’t have to see any more of him than that. His name was Drustin Peling.
         She mimcked a pretty elf to visit his store first, to make a simple investigation. Inside it was just as filthy as its owner, a layer of dust having settled over everything. Rat droppings huddled in corners as though gathering up and waiting for an invasion.
         She could feel his gaze on her as she sauntered from shelf to shelf. She met his gaze twice, the first time making it seem like an accident and shyly looking away, and the next when he asked her if there was anything he could help her with. She was surprised for a moment to note that his voice was smooth and calm and intelligent.
         “Is this all you do?” she asked in a sweet voice, acting modest. Maybe you could help me pick what to wear to my Avoiding Fat Men meeting.
         He only peered in her eyes for a moment. “I have several contracts with outside sources,” he said coolly. “It helps keep the place on its feet.”
         She nodded. She knew he wouldn’t say any more to a customer, so she decided not to go any further until later, in case he was the paranoid kind and sensed a pattern. A business associate was much more likely to get secrets from him, anyway. Still, even though she was used to being stared at, she wasn’t completely comfortable with his stare. Something about his eyes. Too clever for his face, like a frog with the eyes of a fox.
         She left without buying anything and did some field research, but found nothing helpful the entire day beyond abandoned and vacant houses and businesses, and was forced to rent out a room for the night at a smelly motel. The next morning she sent a short message to Peling’s shop:

Hello, Mr. Peling. You don’t know me, but I’ve heard of you and the business you do, and I believe we can mutually benefit from an arrangement. I’d like to get together to strike up a dialogue and, if all goes well, work out the details. I hope to increase my profit by at least V6200/mo., and I suspect your own books will show a similar increase. Forgive the vagueness, I feel it’s best to discuss the deal in person. Meet me at noon in the Lilishna Fye lunch court. I have brown hair, and I’ll be wearing a white skirt-suit. Absence will denote disinterest, and I’ll take my business elsewhere. Hope to see you soon,
                    Brendaleth Orey
                    Public Relations Ex.,
                    Starlit Victories

         Starlit Victories, she knew, was a manufacturer of sports equipment. Of course, she didn’t know anything about his business or what they could offer him, but for V6,200 a month, he couldn’t afford not to show up.
         The lunch court to which she’d referred was stately and clean and seemed to attract businessmen, much like its namesake. The real Miss Fye was famous for introducing real plantlife to Evergreen, something which was widely considered to be an extremely positive change for the community. The relaxed and quiet feel of the commons named for her drew visitors from all over the city, and it was there that Soulrend waited, silently begging the hands on the overlarge clock to move faster. As she’d promised, she was wearing a white business suit and had brown hair, along with, of course, an extremely attractive face and build.
         He was ten minutes late, but he did arrive, that dishonest smile spreading happily across his puffy face. She smiled and stood as he approached, offering her hand. “Mr. Peling?” she said with confidence.
         He nodded smoothly. His hand closed over hers like a whale swallowing a rowboat, and bowed his head respectfully. “Miss Orey,” he said, his voice even more pensive than before. “It’s an honor.”
         “Likewise,” she smiled, bored already with the pleasantries.
         They sat down, Peling’s chair groaning beneath his bulk.
         “I’ll be frank,” she said. “I’m not altogether sure that my information is accurate.”
         He eyed her for a moment. “Which information would that be?”
         “About you. Certain rumors have interested me but I want to make sure they’re more than that.”
         “I assure you,” he smirked. “Anything negative is completely false.”
         Except where it counts, of course. She grinned at him, shrugged. “I’ve heard you do business with the Infernals of Sar Toreikas.”
         “Ah yes,” he said, nodding. “I do some trafficking work for them, mostly importing weapons wholesale. It’s nothing exciting.”
         “The hells it isn’t!” she said, smiling widely. “You do business with the Infernals, that’s hardly routine. Tell me about it.” Show a man with a low self-esteem interest in his accomplishments, and he’s half seduced already.
         But despite her intrigued gaze, he smirked slyly. “I’m afraid it’s confidential. I don’t betray the trust of my clients. Unless..” he paused. A dark lust slid over his eyes like a snake. “Unless there’s something in it for me.”
         Damnit. One corner of her lips smirked, but she said nothing.
         “Well then, should we get to your proposal?” he said calmly. There was something in the way he was looking at her that put her off. Something wasn’t right. No! There would definitely be something in it for him to sell us out, but that’s not enough for me to move on...
         “Well, I also heard you’ve traded with the Celestials over in Sanctuary. That’s really what attracted me, your apparent commerce savvy. A businessman who can successfully trade with both sides of a conflict? I couldn’t resist.”
         “Yes, I’ve also done some trade with the angels, though usually they buy information from me, rather than swords. They make their own weapons, you know.”
         Damnit! He’s giving me just enough to not give me anything at all! She nodded. “What kind of information?”
         “Like I said,” he grinned darkly. “I don’t betray a partner’s confidence without some kind of.. compensation.”
         “You’re very bold, Mr. Peling,” she said, remembering to sound scandalized but playful. Something wasn’t right about the lust she could feel in him. His cold gaze reminded her of the look of an aiming sniper. She dreaded getting naked for this man, even as she started to realize there was no avoiding it. “That’s another thing I liked about you.” She gave him a devious wink, doing her best not to seem put off.
         “I was under the impression we were here to talk about business, Miss Orey, not flatter each other.”
         She almost snarled. He was very clever, this man, and she began to feel like a mouse running from an amused cat. There was a prickly feeling in her gut and a dim voice in her head that she stubbornly ignored. He’d as much as offered her the confession she was after. All she had to do was accept his arms, and once he’d spilled his guts, she’d spill his blood. She grimly wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to murder the creepy bastard even if he turned out to be an honest man, which seemed less and less likely every minute.
         But how to accept his offer without seeming suspicious? She somehow got the feeling he was clever enough to know that she’d have an agenda.
         She grinned, let her toe run up his calf lightly. Few men can resist a slut. “Whatever gave you that impression?”
         The heavy clock rang once to signal the quarter hour. Peling’s grin was devious, but his spiteful eyes twinkled happily. “You’re not telling me you want to know about what I do that badly?”
         “Or maybe I don’t give a damn about what you do,” she said, winking.
         His chuckle was ragged and bounced his chins against each other. “Now who’s being bold?”
         She just grinned.
         He shrugged and shifted, smugness like a party mask on his face. “Tell you what. It’s lunch and I’m somewhat hungry. I’ll buy you something and then, if you’re not just poking fun at me, we’ll retire to my store. How’s that?”
         “Sounds great. In the meantime, I can prove I’m not poking fun at you. And I just want some water, thanks.” I’m making way too much of this. He’s just suspicious because being a pervert finally paid off for him. This assignment will be best when it’s over.
         He shrugged and with a little difficulty he stood and went to one of the sloppier food carts. Five minutes later he returned with a tray of deep fried chicken and marinara sauce. Carelessly he dropped it on the table between them and set a wax paper cup of water before her, sat down, and began to eat, almost oblivious she was still there.
         Bah. I’m just being paranoid. I’ve never failed an assignment, ever. I’m Soulrend, damnit!
         As the minutes fell away, she stubbornly went ahead with her plan - she caressed his bulky calf with her toe, watched him sensually, sipped her water, and did her best to suppress her disgust. The man was an extremely sloppy eater.
         After she’d convinced herself that he wasn’t as smart as he seemed, he finished his generous meal and fixed her with such a stare of lust that, in spite of everything, she couldn’t help but be a little turned on. It was only a little though, and it didn’t last long.
         His arm around her waist along the walk to Barter This felt a bit like a scaly tentacle, his fingers sliding under her blouse like greasy sausages, but she played along. He’d said nothing at all since the lunch court, but she took it as either shyness or his sad version of tense, horny silence. Still she could hardly ignore the queasiness in her stomach.
         He took her behind the counter and back into a dingy apartment. Stacks of dirty dishes threatened to spill over onto the counter, and most of the cupboards sat open and empty. The icebox was old and an ugly bright orange. Several springs were poking up through the cushions in the sofa, and besides a stained mattress in the corner, a large pile of blankets, and a heavy metal file cabinet, there was no other furniture. It was very smelly, and her dread increased dramatically as she realized that there were no options for sex where there was neither the foul smell of armpits or sharp metallic objects poking out.
         As it turned out, he preferred the mattress. Almost swimming in his rank stench, she had a very hard time concentrating on keeping down the bile threatening to splatter all over his face, as well as make all the proper moans and noises of pleasure. It was, unsurprisingly, very quick. But that wasn’t the worst part. She got the distinct feeling that she may as well mimic a mannequin, for all the attention he gave her. When he wordlessly painted her stomach with his seed, she was both relieved and very, very unsatisfied. He hadn’t even given her the time to fake an orgasm. The only thing for which to be grateful was that she didn’t even need to look in his head to find what he liked - it wouldn’t have made any difference.
         “So,” she said, panting and trying not to tremble.
         “So?” he grunted. They were lying under the moldy blankets on their backs.
         She closed her eyes. She had to remember why she was here, and why she should keep up this damn charade. Someday, someone’s going to ask me what the worst fuck of my life was like. I’ll probably break down into tears. The fucking Celestial was better than this greasy wide-ass.
         “That,” she said, remembering herself. “Was amazing.”
         His breaths just kept whistling through his nose. Fighting her stomach, she shifted and cuddled against his side.
         “So tell me about the Celestials.”
         Suddenly the man was wracked by a fit of coughing. Subtly she closed her eyes and exhaled in disgust. “What about them?” he said once he could speak.
         “What do you do for them?”
         He smirked but didn’t look at her. “I provide them with what they need most: intelligence. My association with the Infernal nation provides me a certain insider’s view on their comings and goings, and the Celestials pay very, very well for it.”
         Good. You’ll be dead within five minutes. The worlds will call me a heroine. Without a word she sat up and went to her clothes, tossed carelessly over the sofa near the door.
         “It’s a good thing they have no idea though, isn’t it?” he said calmly. She ignored him. “No one enjoys it when their darkest secrets are bartered to their enemies.” Keep talking, you fat moron. I hope dying hurts very much.
         “But what if they found out, hm? What then? They’d probably send out an assassin. Probably a succubus.”
         She stopped.
         “After all,” he went on, a smug amusement in his voice. “How in the hells could a fat lonely trader resist a beautiful woman?”
         She turned to him, her lips parted. Oh gods.
         He met her gaze, his eyes once again dark and cunning. “I’d better be prepared, just in case, shouldn’t I?”
         “What are you talking about?” she said, managing to sound genuinely confused.
         He shrugged. “Just mentioning that it’d be pretty dangerous for me to trust beautiful women who inexplicably swallow their disgust and seduce me.”
         Grab my dagger. Connect his ears with it. Dress. Leave. Now.
         But she didn’t move. Something didn’t add up. He just watched her slyly, waiting to see what she’d do. A few moments passed tensely. Everything inside her screamed at her to finish the job and leave before his trap could be sprung and the Celestials could descend on her, but still she stared at him.
         It was the thought of capture that drove her to action. Sneering, she lunged for the dagger concealed in her discarded blouse and advanced on him. In the back of her mind she knew she was confirming his suspicion if that’s all it was, but she didn’t care. He needed to die. It was her mission.
         But his grin widened and he laughed. He pillowed his head on his hands, his body wiggling with his mirthful laughter. “Stupid demon,” he said. “It’s too late for you, my dear.”
         “Shut up,” she snarled.
         “Or else?” he grinned.
         Suddenly she became aware that she was weakening rapidly. She snarled and steeled her will and begged her body for more power, but it was no use. She fell to her knees, every scant trace of her willpower forcing her to keep her grip on the dagger, to crawl forward and drive it home, but she was failing. Her strength was simply evaporating. She fell to her side, her breathing weak but vicious, only dimly aware of the smug chuckling. The smugness of her target. The man who should be dead.
         This is not the end!
         And everything was blackness.

         The whole world exploded with icy water and cold air. Choking, flailing backwards, she came alert all-too-quickly. She was in a dim, cold brick basement, shackled by long chains from her wrists to the floor. She was shivering violently, naked, and drenched.
         Peling was standing before her holding an empty bucket, wearing a pinstripe suit and a grimace. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said darkly.
         She glared at him, panting, as far from him as her bonds would allow.
         He smirked. “Cold shoulder?” She sneered. He was revolting.
         “You know, it’s funny,” he continued. He calmly set down the bucket upside down and sat on it, eyeing her. “I was genuinely undecided when I thought about having this facility installed. A part of me wondered when I’d ever have a chance to use it, and another suspected it would come in handy one day.”
         You repulsive son of a bitch. You dirty greasy friendless loser.
         “You really should have done your homework. There is no Brendaleth Orey. The P.R. executive for that company is a wolfkin called Frenk. I met him once. He was quite intelligent, for a dog.”
         “So,” she spat, smirking sarcastically. “What’s on your menu for me, hm? Are you going to start telling people you have a girlfriend?”
         He smirked. “Silly creature, I don’t have any such desire. No no, I have a far more noble purpose for you.”
         “You have no idea what that word means. If you did, you’d slash your wrists.”
         “So aggressive,” he chuckled. “The world may be a nobler place without me, but that isn’t my concern.”
         “Anything you do to me will just make you more pathetic.” She didn’t interrupt her glare even for a moment.
         “Oh, I know,” he nodded. “I’m quite aware of my scum. We all have our place, my dear.”
         “Your place is in a shallow grave, pissant.”
         “That’s more merciful than I would have suspected from you, succubus,” he said sarcastically. “Would you really rob me of all the suffering I deserve?”
         “In an instant. Every second you live, you make the worlds uglier.”
         He smirked. “And you make them sluttier.”
         They stared for a few moments at each other. Her eyes carried the deepest, darkest hate, while his were only calm and bored and amused.
         “I know what you’re thinking,” he said after a few minutes.
         “Probably. It’s not exactly a secret.”
         “Indeed. You’re thinking, ‘My gods, this man before me is such a genius to have sniffed me out so quickly!’”
         She snorted loudly. Well, it’s more likely than thinking he was great in bed. “Not really. I was thinking of the different ways I could emasculate you once I get out of here.”
         “Such confidence,” he said smoothly. “But I assure you, there’s no chance of that. I’ll be posting armed guards who won’t succumb to your little tricks. Obviously you’re susceptible to a simple Sleeping draught, which of course makes me wonder how vulnerable you really are to other such maladies.”
         Suddenly something came to her. “Wait.. you poisoned me?”
         “It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?” he said softly.
         She didn’t respond; rather, she was suffering under the full weight of the implications of this. Command would disavow all knowledge of her existence. She was dead to them. She was alone.
         “You knew I was coming, didn’t you?” she sneered. “You knew we were onto you.”
         “Ah, you’re brighter than I assumed. Yes, I can’t deny that I had an insider’s warning. However, I only would have rejected you outright, and missed this delightful opportunity. A beautiful woman interested in carnality with such as I? Please. I know better than that.”
         “What opportunity?” she said. Her eyes were dark slits.
         “Do you have any idea how much the Celestials will pay me for a living, breathing succubus on whom to experiment? My gods, they’ll mark a new holiday. You and your kind are quite hated in the Celestial community. You cause them a lot of trouble, evidently.”
         Her glare darkened several shades and her teeth clenched of their own accord.
         “Well, you enjoy that thought for now,” he smirked, turning to the stairs. “I have an actual meeting to attend.”
         “Good riddance.”

         The next few days were misery for Soulrend. Peling’s dungeon was cold and wet and leaky. There was one cell in the north corner, opposite to where she was manacled to the ground. There were no windows, just a dim electric light hanging from the center of the ceiling which somehow darkened the room even more. The wrought manacles on her wrists were jaggedly forged. By the second night her forearms were bleeding in places, and she had the distinct impression that she would never be warm and comfortable again.
         Again and again she returned to her dark vengeful thoughts, not for Peling, but for the betraying scum who sold her out, the two-timing traitor who could possibly stand to profit from this. But who? The only Infernals who knew Command was sending a succubus were Command themselves, Kraver, and of course, Harvestina. Was she being double-crossed by a rival succubus? By Harvest? It made no sense. She would understand the move as a way to eliminate a competing succubus, if it weren’t for the enormous advantage it handed to the Celestials. Command would certainly never do anything to harm their goals. And Harvest? She was sweet, but she was less ambitious than a turtle was swift. Still, she was the only Infernal outside Command who Soulrend had told. She didn’t know what to think.
         Peling’s guards paid her frequent visits, sometimes to gawk and grin stupidly, sometimes to poke her with words and weapons, sometimes to simply glare. They seemed dumb as rocks, but somehow they resisted every trick she tried. Peling must have been very specific and generous. They never came close enough to her for her to jump one (besides to jab her with a halberd), never let their temper catch them off guard, and never succumbed to her seduction. It was infuriating.
         Peling himself paid her a visit on the second night. He pulled up a chair and sat in it, watching her darkly from just out of arm’s reach.
         “Frightened?” he said softly after a few minutes.
         Oh, simply terrified. She shook her head. “Excited.”
         “I see,” he smirked. “Because any time now, you’ll be free, and you’ll be taking a rusty kitchen knife to my genitals?”
         “Exactly,” she spat.
         “I think you’ll find me immune to threats from a naked, chained female.”
         “That’s no reason not to make them. I’ll get to say ‘I told you so’ while you’re crying for your mother.”
         He just smirked. “Bold words. But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to cut a deal with you.”
         “No thanks,” she said coldly.
         “I want to see your true form,” he said.
         She blinked. “Why?”
         “Because I’ve never seen a succubus without a disguise, and this blonde woman you’ve chosen to mimic is very boring to me.”
         Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s in it for me? I’m guessing it’s too much to hope for that you’d let me go.”
         “Smart girl. I’ve managed to get my hands on a particular poison at very low cost. There is no effect until several hours after you take it, when it will kill you painlessly. If you do me this small favor, I will slip it to you before turning you over to your much hated enemies. I am still paid, and you avoid a lot of pain.”
         “No,” she growled. “No deal.”
         “I think by now we’ve established that you won’t be able to escape under your own power, and don’t insult me by thinking I don’t know that your people have abandoned you. This is all you have to avoid your fate. Show me your true face, Miss Orey.”
         Soulrend said nothing. She only sat against the wall, hugging herself, and glared weakly. She was tired, and cold, and if truth be told, she was frightened. She had a few tricks left up her sleeve, but... I can’t lie to myself. There’s a really good chance I don’t have a leg to stand on here...
         “What’s it going to be, my lovely succubus? Stubbornness and unnecessary pain, or cooperation and a quick death?”
         “No,” she whispered finally, lifting her eyes defiantly to his. “When I see you in the hells, I’ll grin.”
         Peling sighed. “I’d hoped that for your own good, you’d give me this small souvenir.”
         “I don’t need your help,” she hissed, anger giving her strength.
         “Very well,” he said, and got to his feet. “Tomorrow morning, I will return with the Celestials. They’ll be very happy to see you.”

          She hadn’t slept or stopped shivering once. There was a growing pain in her stomach, which was growling constantly. She couldn’t wiggle her toes anymore, and it was a harder and harder chore to rub them. She lost heat every time she moved. And the worst part was that she didn’t see any way to prevent her fate.
         Damn you, Harvest! How could you do this to me! How long have we been friends? Six years? Seven? Ever since I stepped in to pry that creepy human off you! I wonder how much they paid you. Bitch.
         The door opened; her heart stopped for a split second. She grit her teeth behind her lips, her breathing coming erratically. This was it.
         Peling waddled up to her in a rush, followed by two of his guards, armed heavily and on guard. He was carrying a wad of clothing and a dark grimace. “Put this on,” he commanded, and dropped the clothes by her side heedlessly as he bent over to unlock her shackles.
         “Why?” she said. Her voice cracked.
         He glared impatiently. “Because, idiot, Twinblade Lieutenant Gandriel is here to collect you, and he’ll be offended by your lack of clothing. And is he to transport you to the Citadel naked? Don’t you have any dignity?”
         She stared up into Peling’s baby-like face, into his malevolent too-cunning eyes. What if...
         “Hurry up,” he growled, and tossed away the second shackle, leaving her free but still under close watch. In a huff he turned and went back up the stairs, followed by the lumbering armored guards.
         Hardly able to accept her good luck, she went swiftly to the door, which, unsuprisingly, was locked. Trying desperately to subdue her rising panic, she made a sweep of the entire room, only to find nothing that could help. Peling may as well not have chained her up.
         Finally as she heard voices approaching, she felt her will collapse, and she slid down the wall, feebly fighting an irrepressible wave of sobbing. Hopelessly she hugged her knees and awaited her fate.
         Distress can be more seductive than lust.
         Very suddenly, she stopped crying. She glanced at the door; the voices were rising steadily. One was deep and masculine and impatient, and sounded a little dull. One was Peling’s, insisting that it was a real succubus, and that there was nothing to worry about.
         Almost panicked that she’d lost her chance, she reached over and grabbed the jeans and T-shirt Peling had offered and covered herself with them, a weak and pathetic effort at modesty. Forcing her pounding heart under control, she shifted, mimicing a lovely young girl of no more than sixteen or seventeen, with messy brown hair and bruises covering her face and neck. She swallowed and exhaled just as the door flew open.
         She sniffed as the men came down into the dungeon, and clutched the clothes to her like covers. Her lip quivered; the tears slid down her cheeks like rainwater.
         Lieutenant Gandriel was a Seraph - heavy infantry and magic-user. He was deeply tanned and thick through the chest and shoulders, and his arms seemed made of bulging veins and muscle tissue. His jaw was bald and broad, and his shoulder-length hair was a light blond. His face was grim but wise, and the moment his stalwart brown eyes rested on Soulrend, it was consumed by shock and concern. Yes!
         A moment passed. Soulrend gazed up into the Celestial’s eyes half in fear, half in hope. Gandriel stared at her as though wondering.
         It was Peling who spoke first. “Damn wily whores,” he chuckled, almost nervously. “They’ll try anything, won’t they?”
         “Mr. Peling,” growled Gandriel deeply, not taking his eyes off the young frightened girl before him. “What is this?”
         But Peling paused uncertainly. “Good Lieutenant,” he continued in a voice dripping with honey. “It’s a succubus. You know, of course, that they can change their appearance at will. She’s playing a trick, and not a very good one.”
         Soulrend sniffed, looked down, clutching her protective coverings closer to her, her lip quivering as though threatened by another of many outbursts of sobbing. It would be no good to defend herself - it would indicate strength your average girl wouldn’t have.
         “Maybe,” said the Celestial pensively. He took a non-threatening step closer; Soulrend drew back, watching him like a cornered kitten.
         A few moments passed as he studied her, a gentle look coming over him. Please be an idiot.. please be an idiot..
         “This is ridiculous,” said Peling impatiently. “You can’t say you believe her? She’s a blazing succubus, Lieutenant! Don’t let her make a fool of you!”
         “Shut your mouth, cur!” he growled, turning back to the fat trader, who was clutching his arm a bit too tightly. “I’ll decide what’s going on here, Mr. Peling.”
         “Oh, gods,” groaned Peling, wiping his sweaty forehead with a pudgy hand.
         Gandriel turned back to Soulrend and crouched down for her with the look of a man coaxing a squirrel to eat from his hand. “Hi, honey,” he said, smiling. She looked to him timidly, her trembling frozen for a moment. “What’s your name?”
         She watched him for several long seconds. Behind the Celestial, Peling was glaring hard at her, his breathing heavy and angry. It was very hard for her not to grin. That’s right. I’m winning.
         She opened her mouth hesitantly, and in a small voice she said, “Kindra.”
         “How old are you, Kindra?”
         “Sixteen,” she sniffed, still wary of him.
         “Do you live around here?”
         She only nodded at this, her eyes slowly opening a floodgate of despair, ready to let in the hope. She gazed at him more attentively.
         “I’m not going to hurt you, Kindra,” he said, extra gently. “Are you a succubus?”
         A terrified and frustrated look came over her face as she let out more tears, shaking her head violently, but decided she wouldn’t be able to answer verbally.
         “If you can prove that to me, I’ll make sure this man is punished for hurting you.”
         That was it, her escape. In a tidal wave of terror and despair and fear and a hundred other phony emotions she knew she would be feeling if she really were a little girl, she launched herself forward and clutched herself to Lieutenant Gandriel, sobbing uproariously.
         “Please!! I don’t know how, I don’t know why this is happening, I just wanna go home!!” And she simply let it go, her hands clutching his dress shirt, her cheek pressed against his chest, her tears running down her face in rivers. From somewhere above she could have sworn she heard an angry growl.
         For a moment the Celestial did nothing, but then his arms went around her protectively. “Shh,” he whispered, his voice deep and comforting. “It’s alright.”
         Peling was beside himself. “You imbecile! She’s playing you like a full house! You let her get away with this and she and all her kind will be laughing-”
         But he didn’t finish. Lieutenant Gandriel had stood in a graceful liquid motion. A wave of creamy white energy had slid down his arm and solidified into a gleaming broadsword as he raised his hand to confront Peling. The guards readied their weapons and Peling, stunned to silence, fell back.
With a grim and vengeful determination in his eyes, the Celestial leveled the magical weapon at the three of them, hardly concerned with their armor or weapons at all.
         “You’ve done a vile thing, Mr. Peling. This is no Infernal. She’s a little girl, and you used her for your own profit. There was deception used today, but it was yours, not hers. There is no evil in her eyes.”
         Peling stared at the angelic creature, his eyes dark, hiding the vicious cunning. Soulrend knew he was wracking his brain for any way to save his deal. “I beg you to reconsider your actions,” he said slowly, dangerously. “Doesn’t it occur to you that succubi are extremely sly creatures?”
         “This is no sly creature, human,” boomed the Lieutenant. Soulrend could have kissed him. This one’s for the record. A Celestial’s bailing me out of a bind, what a pal!
         “Look at her, sir!” growled Peling, thrusting a pudgy finger in Soulrend’s direction. “She’s smirking!!”
         By the time Lieutenant Gandriel had turned to her, she had replaced her smug grin with a frantic shaking of her head.
         He turned back to Peling. “I’m taking her back to her family, human. If you or your guards stand in my way, you will be cut down. You have fair warning.” With that, his sword dissolved into creamy white energy and rejoined his body as he turned to Soulrend. “Get dressed, honey. We’re going.” Smiling shyly, she put on the jeans and T-shirt Peling had given her, remembering to tremble just a little. Once she was dressed, she took his hand, and let herself be led from the dungeon. She couldn’t stop herself from turning back to wink at Peling; it was worth the risk. He growled to the Celestial that she’d winked smugly, but it didn’t help.
         They ascended into Peling’s house. To Soulrend’s shock, the place was nicely organized and clean. The mattress had been dressed and the blankets folded. The dishes had all been done and the cupboards closed. The sofa was covered in a cloth, and all the many knick-knacks had been put away or placed neatly on some new furniture - two end tables and a coffee table. And that was where she found it - her platinum pocket watch. Yes! I can contact Command!
         Smiling gleefully she parted from Gandriel and went to grab it. “It’s my father’s,” she explained, and he nodded.
         The chilly Tome sun seemed bright and warm to Soulrend, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes and bathing her face in it as it blanketed over her. Sticking very close to him, she shyly directed Gandriel to a smaller, modest house she knew was inhabited, but empty in the mornings. She stayed close by his side as they went through the white picket fence and up to the heavy crimson door.
         “Where are your parents?” he asked after the door was shut, looking around.
         Suppressing the irony that she was as unfamiliar with the place as he was, she shrugged and said she didn’t know, that they should be back any time.
         She stayed close to him, and he seemed only happy to let her. He sat on the couch in the living room to wait while she cuddled against his side. It’s not over yet. I still have to get rid of him without making him suspect Peling was right.
         After a few minutes, she cleared her throat softly. “Um..”
         “What’s that, Kindra?”
         “I.. have to go.”
         “Go? Go where?”
         “Erm... upstairs, to the washroom.”
         There was a pause. “Heh, alright,” he chuckled. “Will you be alright by yourself?”
         She nodded against his side.
         “Very well, I’ll be here.”
         Only slightly hesitantly, she pried herself off him and headed upstairs, acting like she was acting brave. When she was behind the washroom door, she flipped open the watch.
         “Command, this is Soulrend Eight-three,” she whispered. “I need assistance sent immediately to my location in Evergreen, Tome. I need two agents, one succubus and one incubus. I need a bit of roleplaying; the story is that I’ve been kidnapped and rescued by a Celestial, who’s here with me, downstairs. I need the agents to be my ‘worried parents’ that come home from shopping and find me alive and well. I don’t have time to explain further. This is priority one, and means not only my safe return, but my completed mission as well. Out.”
         Opening the door and peering down the hall to make sure he hadn’t heard, she flushed the toilet and headed out, smiling shyly.
         “Sorry,” she murmured.
         “It’s alright,” he smirked.
         Conversation was limited. She didn’t really feel like talking to a Celestial, and she was fairly tired anyway. He gently stroked her hair and asked her superficial questions here and there until she was “asleep.” This is stupid. I have to put up this act while Peling packs his crap and skips town!
         After about an hour, during which Soulrend was very thankful the real owners of the home didn’t show up uninvited, the front door opened, admitting the racket of two people carrying groceries. Soulrend jumped up and sprinted into the entry hall to meet them, silently praying to the Gods that the visitors were her reinforcements.
         It was Harvestina and an incubus Soulrend had never seen before. Upon seeing her, they shrieked and laughed and hugged her tightly, and shifted into a pair of people who looked somewhat like her.
         Gandriel joined them at a saunter, watching the blissful reunion with a beaming smile. After a moment, the incubus stood and shook hands with the Celestial. Harvest thanked him over and over and over, while he told them over and over that it was his pleasure, and that he was just glad “Kindra” was safe. The incubus added that he’d never really liked the Celestials, but that now that they’d proved their greatness to him, he was an avid follower. Soulrend noticed that the Lieutenant’s chest seemed a size larger than when she’d met him.
         Finally he was gone. Harvest turned to Soulrend even as they both shifted back to the blue-skinned natural forms, and she hugged her tightly, sighing, whispering how glad she was that Soulrend was okay. A bit taken back at first, Soulrend quickly returned the gesture. Stay cool, Soulrend. Maybe she really isn’t a dirty, backstabbing whore. It’s kinda hard to think so when she’s so happy to see me, anyway...
         “Okay, what’s going on, Rend?” she said as she parted and looked to her.
         “I can’t explain yet,” she said, remembering Peling. “I have one last thing to finish. I promise I’ll tell you everything,” she added when Harvest gave her a dubious look.
         “Ahem,” said the incubus, smirking. “Don’t I get a hug?”
         Soulrend eyed him, slid her eyes over him, realizing suddenly that she’d gone half a week with no good sex to speak of. “I think you’re going to get more than that whether you want it or not,” she crooned, grinning and winking hotly. “But not right now. See you both later.”
         Without waiting for their replies, she put on white skin, echoing her human form, and left the house, bound directly for Barter This.
         She was neither surprised nor excited to find the door to the shop standing open. The rusty weapons and impractical armor still lined the dusty aisles, and the furniture still stood, but in the house there was no one. The mattress and sofa cushions had been misplaced, and the door to the dungeon was ajar. No one was there.
         Sighing heavily, she leaned against the wall. She yawned, suddenly aware of just how tired she was. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and her head tipped forward of its own will, and before she passed out on the floor, she called Command for transport back home.

         “Impressively done, Eight-three,” said Lt. Kraver, reviewing the case file. In it was the official documentation, Soulrend’s own report, and the documents Command had been able to scour from Peling’s home. None of it incriminated him or betrayed what he’d told the Celestials, but some of it was helpful nonetheless. That didn’t really matter to Soulrend anyway.
         She was slouching in her chair; it had only been a few hours into her well-deserved rest that she’d been awoken and forced to her post-briefing.
         “Command is upset you let him get away, as you can imagine, but-”
         “I had no choice,” she interrupted, her eyes burning. “I could have gotten away from the Celestial, and convinced him that Peling had been right about me, or I could have stayed with him and sent him back to his buddies with stories about how the guy’s a dirty child molester. Which would you prefer?”
         Kraver said nothing for a moment. “Your way, obviously. No one’s blaming you, Eight-three. But you have to understand something. As far as Command is concerned, this is a failed mission.”
         Soulrend rolled her eyes.
         Kraver continued. “They wanted him dead, no questions asked, if you’ll remember. And the fact that it took you twice as long as they gave you, and you had to bother two other agents-”
         “Didn’t you read my report?” she glared. “I was ratted out. He knew I was coming. There is a double-agent here, sir.”
         Kraver eyed her. “Listen to me carefully, Eight-three,” he said softly. “Command disagrees with you. As far as they’re concerned, there is no double-agent, never was, and never will be. Instead, they’re unhappy with how you made it into an excuse for your piss-poor job.”
         Soulrend blinked. “Tell me you’re messing around, because it’s really not funny.”
         “I’m afraid not, Eight-three. You should have seen General Vronin, he was shocked. He liked you and your potential. Now don’t get me wrong, Eight-three, I’m on your side. I convinced Command that you did effectively stop his business with the Celestials, and that’s effectively what they wanted done anyway, just in a more final way.”
         She sighed, slouched further in her seat. You’re a real friend. Really.
         “We have the Blood team out sniffing the man down to finish the job, and Command can’t deny that you brought some added benefits too.”
         “Whatever,” she mumbled. She just wanted to get some more sleep.
         “Hey, Soulrend,” he said. She looked up at him. “It’s nice to see you back. It must have been a really crappy few days for you.”
         She stared at him for a few moments, then smirked and nodded, too tired to fully appreciate the Kraver-being-nice occasion. “Thanks.”
         “Now go get some sleep and a good pounding. I’m sure you need it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
         She nodded weakly in reply, then stood and headed, half asleep already, to her quarters. Harvest was waiting, sitting cross-legged on Soulrend’s bed, wearing only a mid-thigh length nightgown.
         “Hey, hot stuff,” she said, smiling happily as she looked up. Despite herself, there was little Soulrend could do to staunch the grin. Maybe she did it, maybe she didn’t. I’ll figure it out in the morning.

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