Herbie Brennan - Ruler of the Realm

‘It lost them.’

‘I thought that wasn’t possible.’

‘It isn’t, but it happened, deeah.’

‘Where did it lose them?’ Fogarty asked.

‘In the grounds of Hairstreak’s mansion.’

‘He has a vicious security system,’ Pyrgus put in. ‘Trackers that take you down, inject you with stuff that knocks you out.’

‘You think they didn’t get far?’ Fogarty asked him.

‘ We didn’t,’ Pyrgus said.

‘Interesting point,’ Madame Cardui remarked. ‘So you think it’s possible Hairstreak may have them both now?’

Pyrgus licked his lips nervously. ‘No, Henry was definitely up to something. I don’t understand it and I don’t understand how he did it, or why, but he definitely took Blue.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Madame Cardui persisted, ‘but whatever he did, whatever he planned, is it possible that Hairstreak’s security system trapped them when they left the mansion?’

‘It’s possible,’ Pyrgus said reluctantly, ‘but Henry knew about the security system. It got him as well as me and Kitterick.’

Fogarty cut across them both. ‘This follower, Cynthia – could I talk to it?’

‘It’s a demon, Alan – you realise that?’

‘Yes, I know. Presumably there are safeguards you can take…’

‘Oh, yes,’ Madame Cardui said. ‘When…?’

Fogarty shrugged. ‘Now. Can we do it now?’

Pyrgus said, ‘I’ll just go and -’

Fogarty said sharply, ‘I want you with us.’

Pyrgus watched nervously. The last time he’d had anything to do with demons was when a smelly old Faerie of the Night named Brimstone had tried to sacrifice him to one. It had never occurred to him there might be the wherewithal to evoke one in the palace. But Madame Cardui was full of surprises.

They were in a smallish basement library – another room he’d never known existed – packed with an astonishing assortment of rare books. Including several he could have sworn were Analogue World manufacture. His eyes glided over the titles – The Hieroglyphic Monad… Clavis Chymicus… Mysteries of the Rosie Crucis… Illuminations… Liber Visionum… Astral Doorways… Ars Notoria – before coming to rest on the circle/triangle motif inlaid in the tiling of the floor. He’d seen that design before, although Brimstone’s circle and triangle had been picked out in animal parts. Pyrgus shuddered. He loved animals.

The circle here had a five-pointed star inscribed inside it. The whole room smelled faintly of some heavy, cloying incense.

Mr Fogarty was staring at the circle as well. ‘You’d be put away for this stuff in my world,’ he remarked.

‘Put away?’

‘In a lunatic asylum, Cynthia,’ Fogarty said. ‘Nobody believes in it any more.’

‘More fool them,’ said Madame Cardui mildly.

Mr Fogarty followed Pyrgus’s example and looked at the books. He pulled one down from the shelves – Pyrgus noticed it was called Conjuring Spirits – and flicked it open.

‘I thought the portals to Hell were all closed,’ he said.

Madame Cardui was busying herself with an incense burner. ‘They are, deeah,’ she told him absently, ‘but we won’t be calling the follower out of Hael.’

‘Won’t we?’ Pyrgus asked, surprised. ‘I thought all demons came from Hael.’

Madame Cardui finished with the burner and lit the charcoal with a blue flame that emerged from the tip of one long painted fingernail. Perfumed smoke began to climb towards the ceiling.

‘Yes, they do. Of course they do, deeah – ultimately. But this one has been pressed into service. It lives in our Realm now. Quite a few demons were trapped here when the portals closed – most of them in service to the Faeries of the Night, of course. They’re based in limbos when they’re not actually operational, but you control them exactly the same way you would if they were still in Hael.’ She caught Pyrgus’s expression and added, ‘They’re quite comfortable. The limbos are furnished. At least mine are: drawer bed, cushions… there’s even a small entertainment globe. Black and white, of course.’

‘Home from home,’ Fogarty said, and gave one of his feral grins.

‘Check the safeguards, please, Kitterick,’ said Madame Cardui.

‘Yes, Madame.’

As Kitterick scuttled to examine the tiling on the floor, Mr Fogarty said over his shoulder, ‘You ready, Flapwazzle?’

Flapwazzle was draped over the back of a chair. ‘Yup,’ he grunted.

‘No breaks in the circle, Madame,’ Kitterick reported. ‘No breaks in the triangle. All force fields active. Incense supplies sufficient. Asafoetida on standby. Black mirror in place.’ Pyrgus looked around for a mirror, but couldn’t see one. Kitterick went on, ‘Rock crystals aligned. Anointing oil ready. Charged water ready. Fumigations ready. Purification vial ready. Sage bundle ready. Black candles ready. Timer set. Trapped lightning boxed.’

‘Seems a lot of precautions for one little imp,’ Mr Fogarty remarked.

‘Can’t be too careful,’ said Madame Cardui. She looked from one to the other and beamed. ‘All into the circle now, deeahs. You too, Flapwazzle.’

Obediently they trooped into the circle. Pyrgus found himself standing beside Flapwazzle and absently leaned down to tickle the endolg’s ears.

‘Reminds me of my days with the Great Myphisto,’ Madame Cardui remarked. ‘He used demons quite frequently in some of his most puzzling illusions.’ She gave a small, girlish smile. ‘He was a Faerie of the Light, so no one ever suspected.’ The smile disappeared. ‘Are we ready to begin the orison?’

‘We don’t actually have to do anything, do we?’ Fogarty asked.

‘Not a thing, deeah – just make sure not to step outside the circle. When you question it, don’t look into its eyes.’

‘OK,’ Fogarty muttered. ‘Do you need a book?’

‘Oh, no, deeah – I’ve done this so often, I know it by heart.’ She turned to face the triangle and raised both arms. Kitterick produced a fan with a flourish that would have done justice to the Great Myphisto and used it to direct incense smoke towards her. In a pleasant resonant soprano, Madame Cardui began the orison.

It wasn’t at all like the way it happened when Brimstone called up Beleth. No distant orchestra, no gradual appearance. One moment the triangle was empty, the next there was an imp inside it, bouncing violently against the invisible force fields. The creature was little more than four feet tall, covered from head to toe in black fur and with a long, prehensile tail. It had pointed, upright ears, two small horns set in the middle of its forehead, luminously burning eyes and a snarling mouth packed with little needle teeth. For something even smaller than Kitterick, it was the most terrifying thing Pyrgus had seen since Beleth himself.

‘Oh, come on, deeah,’ Madame Cardui told it tiredly. ‘I did say in thy full, fair and pristine form.’

The creature in the triangle changed at once. The fur fell away, the skin colour turned from black to greyish white, horns and tail both vanished and the head began to inflate alarmingly, like some monstrous balloon. In seconds, the change was complete. Pyrgus was staring at one of the frail, large-headed creatures with enormous black eyes that had captured him the time he found himself in Hael. He looked away quickly.

‘This is Black John, Alan,’ Madame Cardui said by way of introduction. ‘Black John, this is Gatekeeper Fogarty. I want you to answer his questions truthfully, on pain of various hideous punishments, eternal torment and so on. You know the legalities as well as I do.’

‘Of course, Madame Cardui,’ Black John said. He had a tiny, pouting little slit of a mouth and nearly no nose at all. His voice was quite high-pitched, but it still managed to resonate inside your head, Pyrgus noticed.