Читать книгу Herotica 1 - Kerry Greenwood - Страница 9

I expected the demon Abraxas to be ugly. Demons always were, in my admittedly minor experience. The one we had called up as students was Apophis, an amalgam demon: body of a hippopotamus and head of a crocodile. He was the principal executioner for the God Osiris, with an inexhaustible appetite for the hearts of the sinful. He was contained in a triple circle of salt, mercuric oxide, which we call demon’s blood, and pounded lapis lazuli, so well known for its ability to repel evil that every child has a blue bead strung around its neck from birth. Unless someone scuffed it, not even Apophis could reach out and indulge in his favourite pastime. And not only did he look frightful, but he smelled frightful: stagnant water and old blood.

Abraxas, however, was beautiful. He was an amalgam too, male and female. The Greeks call such people Androgyne. The round breasts, long hair and soft features of a girl, the genitalia of a boy. He was perfectly and splendidly naked. His skin was black; not in the way of the vile Kush, but black as a night sky. If it wasn’t for that and the burning red eyes, which all demons have, I would have thought him human. Also, the fact that he had appeared in the middle of my carefully constructed triple circle was a strong indication.

He blinked, tossed back his black hair, and smiled at me. Then he sketched around himself and conjured a throne, onto which he sank, very gracefully. He waved again and clothed himself in a robe of purple and gold, scowled at it and banished it with a snap of the fingers, waved again and got one of severest black, scowled and banished, then decided on his own beautiful, glossy skin, which no silk could possibly rival. He also smelled beautiful, of honey and incense and something dark and musky. I was astounded and could not speak for a moment. The demon’s gaze fell upon me. His red eyes narrowed.

‘Well,’ he said in a tenor voice of remarkable clarity, ‘you called me. Presumably you have a task for me.’ I still could not speak, so he went on, examining me closely ‘let me see. Young man, pale skin - a student, scarcely sees the sun. Usual number of features and limbs, acceptable standard of beauty, more than basic level of skill at conjuration or you wouldn’t have got me - I’m not anyone’s to just summon, you know.’ I swear he turned his head and preened. ‘Not worn or worried, so it isn’t illness, in any case a student would know there isn’t a lot demons can do about earthly ills, anyway. Even if we wanted to, which we don’t. Not angry, so it isn’t revenge. So, it must be love,’ he pronounced it with an exaggeration which made me blush red as fire. ‘Oh, isn’t that just so human?’ he asked, cooing like a marketplace whore.

And that was enough of that.

‘I am on the outside of this circle, and you are in the middle,’ I reminded him. ‘And you must stay as long as I say.’

He pouted.

‘Doesn’t mean we can’t have a conversation,’ he said. ‘I’ve been so bored lately. You could have a lot of fun with me,’ he slid a long fingered hand down his muscular thigh, and I swallowed the lump which had formed in my throat, which matched the one which was screaming for attention further down. I was halted from action by remembrance of what had happened to another student, Huy, who had released a succubus only to be bitten and shredded and scattered, flesh torn from bone. The room had been splashed in blood to the ceiling. The only part she had actually eaten was his penis, which might have been expected in a succubus. It had taken three of us to encircle and banish her. Then we had gathered Huy together in a rush basket for mummification and burial. I was not, after that, going to be tempted to let any demon, however beautiful, out of containment. Ever. He read my mind, which is disconcerting.

‘She really did spoil it for the rest of us,’ he sighed. ‘Succubi. So impulsive. Well, what have you to offer, and what do you want? The most beautiful woman in the world will cost you your soul, you know.’

‘I am not asking for the most beautiful,’ I told it. ‘And I am not offering my soul. I have here a perfect star sapphire, mounted in silver. Demons value such things, I believe.’

For a moment a flash of sheer greed whipped across his face. I was pleased. He waved an elegant hand dismissively.

‘Can’t do you the second most beautiful either, not for a trinket like that.’

‘I told you, I do not value beauty above other things.’ Now we were bargaining, and I had spent a lot of time in the marketplace, acquiring goods with a very small amount of coins to sell for a larger amount of coins. Romans loved Egyptian ‘antiquities’, and I knew where to buy the very best newly made ancient tomb figures, statuettes, and beaded collars. Since they had decided to conquer Egypt, I saw no reason why they should be able to carry real pieces of our history off to Rome with them, even though tomb-robbed goods carried massive and far reaching curses with them. Even the Romans didn’t deserve the ‘snake be against him by day’ curse. Bargaining was not a new concept for me.

‘Really? That’s unusual. You are beginning to interest me,’ said Abraxas. ‘What do you value?’

‘I want someone whom I can love and who can love me,’ I told him. ‘I want kindness and humour and sweetness of nature. And intelligence. Skilful hands would be good, too.’

‘I will fulfil your desire, but only because to tarry here would be to expire in the web of your sticky emotions,’ said Abraxas disdainfully. ‘Don’t you want a small perversion, desire to be beaten, perhaps, a little blasphemy, prone to blood sacrifice, nothing serious? Just to dilute the goodness a little, so you won’t be bored to death?’

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘Healthy, skilled, intelligent, sweet, funny, loving and loved. That’s all I want. And in return I will give you this fine star sapphire – see the white fire in the centre? – and the expertly made silver mounting, and just for you I will throw in this chain so you can wear it right away. It will look very splendid on your beautiful night-black bosom.’

‘Yes, it will, won’t it,’ he noted, conjuring a mirror. ‘Deal. Throw me the trinket.’

I tossed it through the circle into his hands. He dropped the chain over his neck and the sapphire gleamed between his rounded breasts. He smiled at me, waved a hand, and demon, throne, mirror and star sapphire vanished.

I waited. In his place, a figure was forming. Same height as me, long dark hair, clothed in a Roman tunic, crowned with a wreath of flowers. A strong scent of jasmine flowed across the circle. I caught my breath. The figure turned to me and held out... his arms.

Oh, that Abraxas. A demon with a sense of humour. Had I not mentioned that I wanted a female lover? I racked my brains. No. I hadn’t. Idiot. First rule of demon summoning: never leave even a tiny loophole into which they can wedge the complete destruction of your wishes. Then again, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it might be.

My conjured lover was looking hurt and worried. I could not have that. I banished the circle, swept a bare foot through the triple lines and he walked into my embrace.

Oh, my. He was pliable and strong in my embrace, smelt bewitchingly of jasmine, and his deft hands were running down my back. I drew back a little. Bright eyes, alert, intelligent. A face full of sweetness of character. And a red mouth made for kissing.

So I kissed him and we melted down to the floor of the chamber. I had never felt such a strong response. Our bodies drew together as if magnetised. He clearly felt the same. He murmured something against my neck.

‘Abraxas,’ he said. ‘I should have asked him for a woman, but–’

‘Abraxas?’ I exclaimed, ‘You too? I forgot to specify also. Foolish of us. What did you offer him?’

‘A ruby of Ind,’ he replied. ‘You?’

‘A star sapphire,’ I confessed.

We broke down and began to giggle helplessly, sitting on the floor, entwined with each other. We kissed again until we were dizzy with desire. He felt right in my arms as no one ever had. My lover apparently agreed.

‘But this is better,’ he said. ‘You are worth many rubies of Ind. My name is Marcus.’

‘It is better,’ I agreed, never letting go of him for a second. ‘You are worth a basketful of star sapphires. My name is Khety.’

‘My love,’ he said.

‘My love,’ I replied.

From the bare remains of the circle came the furious voice of the demon Abraxas, screaming curses. Which made us laugh again. And then we made love, to the music of a demon who has, unwittingly and despite his best efforts, done good, and will suffer for it.