The Demons We See, Page 2

  “Please don’t.”

  Pero gave his husband a side-eye glance. “Why not?”

  “Cardinal Vittorio and his wife are coming to dinner. He’s returned from his pilgrimage to Basina.”

  Pero made a disgusted sound. “What kind of sick man goes to a horror site for his spiritual development? Captain, do you have plans this evening?”

  “I’m heading to Borro Abbey. Why? I don’t know Cardinal Vittorio personally. Is he horrible?”

  Pero gave his husband a disdainful glance. “Anyone who goes to Basina without burning the place to the ground is horrible in my opinion.”

  Francois smiled. “I find Cardinal Vittorio quite passionate.”

  Another disgusted sound escaped Pero. “That’s not passion, my love. That’s senility and cruelty.”

  Stanton smiled politely at Pero before asking, “Any advice before I depart?”

  Francois nibbled on a piece of butter cake. “Allegra is suspicious of most parish priests, most bishops, and all of the cardinals. And she’s convinced anyone who comes from Orsini is a moron.”

  “Just tell her Pero says hi, and she’ll be easy,” Pero grabbed his husband’s wine goblet and finished off the rest of the wine. “Oh, and tell her that the cardinals are wrong about her. That’ll help.”

  “Opinionated and paranoid,” Stanton said. “Wonderful combination.”

  Pope Francois gave Stanton a disapproving glance. “Come now. Look at the world from her perspective. She is a witch—”

  “Mage,” Pero corrected automatically.

  “Mage,” Francois said, giving his husband an annoyed look. “Her rank has been the only thing that’s sheltered her from servitude and slavery. It was only because she is of the blood that she avoided being marked and tagged.”

  Pero snorted. At his husband’s annoyed glance, Pero raised his hands. “Fine. I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

  “That would be a first. But, yes, she’s very political and writes letters, yet she does little more than garden, cook, and attend an annual party or two. She’s become a touch fragile, I think. Be gentle to her.”

  “Oh, please,” Pero said, sarcasm lacing his words. “The Grand Duchess thinks she’s fragile.” He turned to Stanton and said, “Grand Duchess Katherine believes Allegra is a fragile, delicate flower that must be kept from the harsh glare of the sun. The Contessa is a strong woman and knew to get out of court politics before she made enemies.”

  Stanton grimaced at the Grand Duchess’s name. They were well acquainted with each other, as she was once the ambassador to Orsini. In the early days, Stanton was assigned to her personal guard whenever she visited Orsini, until Francois promoted Stanton to his personal staff to create the Consorts.

  “Ah, yes,” Francois said. “You know the Grand Duchess.”

  “Didn’t you used to work for her?” Pero asked, now munching on a tiny pastry he’d stolen from Francois’s plate. “This is stale.”

  “Yes. The Grand Duchess and I are acquainted.” Stanton stood and bowed to both men. “Gentlemen, if there is nothing further, I will take my leave. I shall depart this afternoon to retrieve this delicate lady and ensure she doesn’t wilt in the sun.”

  “Almighty be with you.”

  “Good luck,” Pero murmured.

  Stanton gave both men a final nod before turning on his heel to walk back to the barracks. He was not fond of the idea of traipsing about the countryside escorting some rich, old lady, but there were worse assignments, he’d supposed. Latrine digging was near the top.

  He weaved his way around the various mothers and fathers of the lower clerical orders who bustled about the outer sanctums of the palace proper. The guards along the main entrances acknowledged him and he gave them all a quick nod. His men weren’t going to be pleased with this trip, either. He chuckled to himself, knowing that some of them would be missing tonight’s dancers at one of the back alley brothels that the Cathedral guards allowed to stay open provided the noise wasn’t excessive and the faithful pilgrims never gained admittance inside.

  A lean youth slipped into step next to Stanton and said, “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Good morning, Lex. Your boots are filthy.”

  “It’s your fault.” Lex didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

  Stanton eyed him. His normally pale, pink face was smeared liberally with dusty sweat and there was a cobweb hanging off one lock of hair that served as a sideburn. “Where in the abyss have you been?”

  In a sing-song voice, forced full of cheer, Lex said, “Why, I’ve been in the stables looking for your missing button, sir. Don’t you remember?”

  “Did you find it?”

  “No, sir.”

  Stanton grunted. “Maybe it fell off in my bedchamber.”

  “You didn’t think to look there first, sir?”

  Stanton stifled a grin. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What is the punishment for hitting a superior officer, sir?”

  “Looking for my button in horse shit.”

  “I’ve already done that,” Lex grumbled.

  The two headed up the staircase to the main barracks and Stanton filled his second-in-command in about the Holy Father's plan.

  Chapter 2

  Lieutenant Lex sat on the long wooden bench and leaned their elbows against their knees. Shit-encrusted boot in one hand, brush in the other, Lex brushed their only good set of boots as the Captain described the details of the new mission. The others were still eating luncheon in the dining hall, so Rainier was taking the opportunity to fill Lex in now.

  It also gave Lex the opportunity to clean their disgusting boots. Fucking cow shit. Fucking Rainier for the order to search the fucking cow shit.

  Rainier went on about some prissy noble they’d have to pick up from Borro Abbey and then drag back to the palace. Rainier didn’t seem overly pleased about the mission, but in his usual form didn’t add much personal commentary. Lex both liked that about Rainier and found it vastly irritating, depending upon the situation. But after seven years of working with the Captain, Lex was used to him.

  “So do you know anything about this fop we’ll be fetching?” Lex asked. Flecks of debris flew in the air and landed on the Captain’s shiny boots. Lex gave him an apologetic smile. “Like, what do you know about her?”

  Rainier returned the smile with a dirty look. “She’s the Contessa of Marsina. I don’t know much about her, to be honest.”

  This time, some of the dried shit hit Rainier in the face.

  He scowled. “Could you not do that right now?”

  Lex looked up at Captain Rainier and gave the boot two aggressive brushes before offering up a wide grin of apology. “Sorry, m’lord. Happy to stop, m’lord. Anything for you, m’lord.”

  Rainier crossed his broad arms across his chest. In a stern voice, he said, “Lex, no one likes a smart mouth, and you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m funny, sir,” Lex said with a grin. However, they put the boot down on the wooden floorboards and dropped the brush next to it. “But who is she? I’ve never heard of her.”

  Rainier shrugged. He crossed the floor and grabbed one of the wooden chairs from the card table. He dragged it over near Lex and sat down. “I’ve told you everything I know. She’s some recluse witch who lives out in Borro Abbey. We’re to escort her to the palace. One assumes we’ll be escorting her back once her business is concluded.”

  Lex considered that. They also looked down and considered the state of their boot laces. Lex really had to go into the market soon, or risk having to tie up the boots with a belt. “Is she an older woman then? Is that why we’re escorting her?”

  The door flung open before Rainier could answer them. The loud, vulgar new arrivals were some of the Consorts, the Cathedral’s elite branch of guards. Well, in theory that’s what they were. That was the deal Lex had been sold when they came to work for Rainier. However, a
s the years went on, Lex came to realize that they weren’t a part of the real papal guards posted at the Cathedral. Instead, they were Francois’s personal soldiers, to dispense as he saw fit. It made sense, considering Rainier’s military career.

  Lex wasn’t overly religious or anything, though they believed in the Almighty and the Guardians and the stories of the martyrdoms. Lex didn’t actually believe the Guardians died sealing an actual tear in reality between the demon abyss and this world, but they believed the core of the story that selfless people did great acts to protect others.

  So Lex didn’t mind working for the papal robes. And Rainier was a good captain, and an honest-to-Almighty war hero. Rainier didn’t care who or what Lex was. He didn’t care why they were at Orsini, or who Lex’s parents were. Rainier wanted a strong arm and a stronger brain, and Lex could offer both.

  “Hey, Lex! You missed it, man. They had creamed celery,” Dodd shouted. He glanced at Rainier and said, “Hey, Captain. Creamed celery. You missed out, sir.”

  Dodd was shorter than most men, but not by much. Lex had a couple of inches on him, a point the two old friends often bantered back and forth about. Dodd’s uniform was in need of laundering, the dark green of his jacket now a dingy gray-green. There was a line of mud splatter up the ass of his dark trousers and up the spine of his jacket. He was missing two of the round buttons, meaning he’d lost two of the magical defenses that were woven into the garment by mothers of the faith.

  Well, Lex knew one thing. Dodd could sift through the shit for his own buttons. Lex was finished.

  “Why do you two look so serious? Oh, good! Laundry came.” He hauled off his jacket and tossed it on his bunk. He did the same with his white tunic.

  Lex winced. “Dodd, I can smell you from here.”

  Stanton waved a hand in the air, making a big show of coughing and gagging.

  “The maid lost all my shirts, so I’ve been wearing the same damn one for four days now.” Bare-chested, he turned to the communal basin on a dresser between the two bunked beds. He poured in water and began to splash water on himself. “I was tempted to start wearing lavender oil.”

  “Lavender oil can’t work miracles,” Lex said. “So, everyone, we got new orders. Some of us will be riding out this afternoon.”

  The new arrivals who’d entered with Dodd all groaned and protested their disappointment, but they shuffled over to the wooden bench and collapsed alongside Lex.

  Dodd spoke first, as he was Lex’s equal in terms of rank and seniority. “What dark abyss are we being sent into this time?”

  “Borro Abbey,” Captain Rainier supplied.

  “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,” Dodd said, dragging the word out. He scrubbed his face with his wet towel. “Why are we going there? Oh! Are we invading it?”

  “The roads still aren’t safe and we have to bring back an important contessa. I got the impression she was an older woman. His Holiness believes she can help with the rebellion, so off we go to fetch her.” A corner of Rainier’s mouth quirked up. “In two hours.”

  Dodd groaned. “How am I supposed to get the mud out of my jacket in two hours?”

  “Let Lex handle that,” Rainier said. “He’s very good at cleaning today.”

  Lex made a rude gesture.

  “So, is the whole gang going?” Dodd asked, now scrubbing his armpits with the towel. Dodd didn’t have a chiseled physique, but his broad shoulders flexed well-formed muscles as he scrubbed. When Dodd caught Lex looking, Lex wrinkled their nose. “What?”

  “You better be planning to burn that towel when you’re done,” Lex said, eyeing the communal towel. “To answer your question, no. Maybe me, Dodd, Rainier…Martin? Rahna? You two wanna come? Anyone else?”

  “Rahna, you should come for sure. Get more experience,” Dodd said to their newest recruit.

  Rainier and Lex both nodded in agreement. The Consorts didn’t have many women—three, counting Rahna—and she hadn’t had much experience outside of running errands around Orsini’s countryside.

  Rainier said, “I think that’s a good idea. Martin, you should come, too. Give Rahna some tips.”

  “Of course,” Rahna said. She barely came up to Lex’s shoulders, but she was as solid as Dodd. Her skin was almost as pale as Dodd’s, with high, round cheeks that were always a touch rosy. She could also kick the consciousness out of a man twice her size in ten seconds flat.

  “Sure,” Martin said. Martin had joined the Consorts only a year after Rainier had formed them and had grown up working for the Cathedral guards as a runner when he was a kid.

  Lex nodded. “Good. All right then, everyone get your shit together. Kingsley, you’re in charge of the group while the adults are away.”

  Kingsley, a handsome, muscular man with a goofy smile, said, “You can count on me, Lieutenant Lex.”

  Lex rolled their eyes. “Suck ass.”

  “Always,” Kingsley said.

  With that, Rainier nodded and headed into his office, which was connected to the main hall where the guard spent their free time. At one point, it had been some cardinal’s bedchamber, built back when people had receiving rooms attached to their bedrooms. Now the room was in the administration wing of the palace, where the secretaries, stewards, and housekeepers all busied themselves with the important task of running the palace, while the cardinals all sat in the glitzy new addition to worship the Almighty.

  Lex had never been through the entire palace, nor had they visited the Holy Father’s residence. They wondered how pompously gilded it would be.

  While Lex pondered the expensive nature of the palace, Dodd mimed putting his head into a noose and hanging himself.

  Lex picked up the brush and went back to brushing their boot. “What’s your problem?”

  “Some of the boys and I were going into town to play cards tonight,” he whined.

  “Why didn’t you invite me? What, I’m not good enough for you anymore?”

  “First, the last time we played cards I had to wash your clothes for a week.”

  “That was lovely, wasn’t it?” Lex said dreamingly. Looking down at the disgusting boot in their hand, Lex said, “We could play cards right now for boot cleaning.”

  Dodd rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I didn’t invite you because they have those dancers you hate.”

  Lex groaned. “Figures. Dodd, what in the abyss happened to your hair?”

  Dodd grabbed a particularly greasy section of his dark blond hair and pulled it out in front of his face. He studied in suspiciously before looking over at the others. “Beatrix?”

  Beatrix Galindo grinned even as her pale skin glowed with a rising blush. “I’m sorry, sir. The others put me up to it last night, when you were…” She coughed. “Passed out.”

  Lex laughed and leaned over to sniff Dodd’s head. “What did you use? Lard?”

  “Hey!” Dodd protested, pushing Lex away. “Personal space, man!”

  Lex ignored him and continued sniffing until Dodd puckered up his pale, pink lips. It was Lex’s turn to push. “Ugh, I know where that mouth has been. Get it away from me.”

  “I’m glad someone knows where it’s been because I sure don’t,” Dodd said, and the group laughed heartily.

  Lex rolled their eyes and tried bringing the conversation back on course. “Anyone here know about this Contessa of Marsina? Martin, aren’t you from around there?”

  Martin nodded. He was a short, thin man, with black hair that made his light skin seem paler somehow. Martin seemed like a poor choice for the guard when Rainier brought him on board, but soon proved Lex’s preconceptions wrong. What Martin lacked in size, he made up for in speed and agility. The man could run for days and not get winded.

  “Yeah, I was born up Amadore way. I got a cousin who still lives there. He’s a tenant farmer for her estate and he’s never said a bad word against the family. They don’t have slaves and don’t hire them for seasonal work, either. They just pay the local
s to come and do it.” Martin snorted. “My cousin keeps trying to get me to move back to work on the farm.”

  “You can leave us,” Lex said.

  Eyeing Lex’s boots, Martin said, “There might be less cow shit up there.”

  “So, she’s an abolitionist?” Dodd asked.

  Martin shrugged. “I don’t know that, but not using slaves is a big statement, isn’t it?”

  “Rainier says she’s a mage. Interesting that they think she can help with the peace,” Lex said, but then answered their own unspoken question. “Well, maybe this is the cardinals’ way of appeasing the factions, right? Bring in some high and mighty noble who is an abolitionist, but isn’t going to make any real changes.”

  Dodd looked down at Lex’s boots. “Seriously, dude, where in the abyss did you go to get so dirty?”

  “Cow shed,” Lex said, wrinkling their nose.

  “Why in the world were you there?”

  “Rainier’s fault,” Lex replied. “Borro Abbey? Where is that?”

  “Four day’s ride from here,” Dodd answered. “It’s up in the hills, near the base of the Borro Mountains.”

  “Up there? What in Almighty’s name is she doing there?” Martin asked. “Isn’t the season happening in Cartossa’s capital right now? Shouldn’t she be dancing with the Queen or doing something useless like that?”

  “Don’t women give up dancing after they hit a certain age? My mother did,” Lex said.

  “Those are the boring women,” Dodd said.

  Lex eyed him. “Are you saying my mother is boring?”

  Dodd winked by way of a reply.

  Lex went back to boot scrubbing. Contessas were the worst, even worse than duchesses. At least a duchess knew their place in society; just below that of the royal family. A grand duchess was a member of the royal family. A contessa was a woman of rank, used to rubbing elbows with royalty, but never quite able to get any further. Lex could imagine the attitude this one would have, if she was important enough to be personally known to the papal throne.