Goetic Justice

"She's no longer in the immaterium though, is she?"

Azazel grinned, exposing those dull, pearly teeth again.

"You interest me, Ryan Cutter, and I owe you a debt of gratitude. Come to the clearing tonight when the moon is at its highest, and you shall have your reward..."

Azazel laughed heartily, its booming voice shaking the windows in their panes, and then its massive body faded as if it were stepping through the sheer wall behind it. The bulky mass of hair and muscle lost its solidity, fading and becoming transparent, those three burning eyes lingering as its body dissolved into a cloud of ash and smoke.

The light fixtures flickered for a moment as if uncertain, and then came back to life. Whatever haze had been obscuring the sunlight from outside lifted and the golden rays came streaming into the room, all that was left of Azazel were a few floating motes of ash.

What fear he still felt was quickly replaced with excitement, he would be seeing Nahash again soon! That, or Azazel was going to eat him or something, but that was a risk he was willing to take. When the moon is at its highest. The demon must have meant around midnight, it was a full moon, and the forest would be relatively well lit. He might encounter ghost hunters or amateur journalists scouring the woods in search of demons and cultists, but he doubted that a being as powerful as Azazel would allow anyone to stumble upon them.

Now all he had to do was wait for the moon to rise and he could be on his way.

CHAPTER 9: REVELRY OF THE SEIRIM

Ryan made his way between the dense trees, dead leaves and dried twigs cracking underfoot as he trekked through the forest. The moon was high in a cloudless sky and even through what was left of the late autumn canopy he could see well enough that he didn't need his flashlight.

The forest was deserted, he hadn't come across anybody, even on the more accessible trails. Not to say that it was still or quiet. Despite the late season, there was fresh growth everywhere, and the air was full of insects. Clouds of drifting fireflies floated between the trunks of the birch trees, blinking their ghostly lights, each a little nebula in its own right. Bats screeched in the sky above him, and beautiful moths fluttered about on the breeze, their fuzzy bodies as colorful and as ornate as any butterfly. Flowering vines were starting to choke some of the trees, already beginning to bloom in shades of red, pink and yellow. It was as if the presence of the Seirim and their master had invigorated the forest, injecting new life into it.

He started as he heard a stick snap some distance away, stopping in his tracks and attempting to pierce the gloom, seeing what looked like a deer darting away into the undergrowth. Despite the impending winter, even large animals were out and about, as if they were being drawn to the same place that he was.

He continued on his way, hopping over exposed roots and rocky outcrops, wading through waist-high ferns and plants as he searched for the clearing. He had a pretty good sense of direction, and it wasn't too far of a walk, he should start coming across the sigils that he had carved into the trees before long.

As he leaned against one of the trunks to rest for a moment, he noticed one such carving beneath his gloved hand, he was on the right track.

As he neared the clearing, he saw a glow in the distance, the orange blaze of what must have been one of their lauded bonfires was illuminating the forest. To be seen at this distance it must have been huge indeed, and yet there was no plume of smoke that rose above the trees to betray its location. Magick fire maybe, who knew with these demons?

As he got closer, he began to hear faint music, as if a band was playing. There was the twang of stringed instruments, the pulsing beat of drums and the whistle of woodwind that might have come from pipes or flutes. It reminded him of the music that he had heard in his head when he had made love to Nahash, the style was jarring and obviously ancient, songs that had been written thousands of years before his birth.

What he had originally assumed to be the flickering of the flames was revealed to be a dozen figures dancing around the periphery of the bonfire, their dark silhouettes framed against the glow, their bodies gyrating and twisting in a frenzy. They all looked like Nahash, all female, but their height and body type varied a little from what he could make out at that distance. Off to one side, Azazel was sat on the ground, his long arms draped over his knees. His black fur was lit by the fire, casting him in an eerie glow, his three red eyes burning like molten metal as he watched the Seirim cavort. Even sitting, he was so much taller than a human and his mass was immense, like an ogre with spiraling horns.

The licking flames must have been fifteen feet high, the bonfire at least eight or nine feet across as it lay in the center of the summoning circle, piled with heavy logs that would have been beyond human capacity to lift and ringed by the stones that Ryan had placed around it.

As he lurked at the tree line, unsure of whether he should announce himself or not, the music petered out. Azazel's monstrous head turned in his direction to stare at him with its trio of red eyes. The Seirim stopped their dancing and followed suit, turning their horned heads to watch him, a dozen pairs of yellow eyes shining in the night.

"It seems that our guest has arrived," it boomed, its baritone voice carrying over the trees and echoing through the forest. "You are welcome here, Ryan Cutter, you need not hide in the shadows. Come, join us."

Even when Azazel was being polite, it came off sinister and threatening. Ryan crept out from between the trunks and started to walk across the clearing. Something about Azazel was just off, as if there was some primal instinct deep inside him that was trying to warn him away from the beast. Its stare sent chills down his spine and made the hair on his arms stand on end.

His mood lightened however when he saw one of the Seirim step forward, the reflective glint of her amber eyes somehow familiar, the comely shape of her body visible against the backdrop of flame. His pace increased to a jog, Nahash advancing to meet him on her digitigrade legs, and he flung himself into her waiting arms. She wrapped them around him, cupping her hand around the back of his head to press his face into the soft wool above her ample chest, Ryan squeezing her large body and breathing in a lungful of her sweet scent. His fingers didn't quite meet around her waist, but he did his best to return her embrace. Her smooth skin was warm and inviting, the downy fur that lined her neck and shoulders comforting him as he rubbed his cheek in it. He felt his doubts melt away, not because of her empathic powers but because he was finally able to reach out and touch her again. The plan had worked, she was here, and she was manifest. Azazel and his band of Seirim must have energy enough to spare.

He turned his head up, prying himself away from the luxury of her wooly chest, and saw her golden eyes peering down at him as her pink lips curled into a warm smile.

"I once called you a novice," she whispered, "but you have proven yourself an admirable exorcist."

"A strange specimen indeed," Azazel's voice rumbled, the creature apparently able to hear them even from so far away. "You have ensnared a rare prize here, Nahash. This mortal covets more than just your flesh, and he has proven himself a worthy ally indeed. I have dwelt amongst his kind since the time of the fall, and I have never before seen his like."

Nahash fawned over him, running her clawed fingers through his hair, pulling him tightly against her plush body as if guarding him from the jealous eyes of her sisters who watched them still.

"You know his heart," Azazel continued, rising slowly to its feet and plodding around the circumference of the bonfire on hooves the size of dinner plates. It stood nearly as tall as the flames, the light casting ominous shadows across its shaggy fur, its white teeth flashing as it spoke. "What is it that you desire, my daughter? I have offered this child of Adam a payment for his services, a reward. But your heart is wild, it is not mine to give."

It seemed that these were not merely Azazel's creations as Ryan had initially assumed, but its literal offspring. Judging by how much more bestial their father was, had it conceived them with human women? Were the Seirim hybrids of some kind, could that be the origin of their softer and more human features? That aligned with what some of the ancient texts told of the rebellious Watchers, that their taking of human wives had angered God and it was for that reason that they had been cast out. There were so many burning questions that Ryan longed to ask, but now wasn't the right time.

Nahash turned her head to look up at her father, clinging to Ryan possessively.

"I want him, father. He is kind and charitable, his love for me is pure."

The furred monster grinned widely and then turned its attention towards Ryan.

"And this is your desire also, Ryan Cutter?"

"Yes," he replied adamantly. Azazel laughed uproariously, raising its heavy head to the sky and seeming to bray at the full moon, its powerful voice shaking his bones.

"Then I shall bind her to you, a marriage between spirit and mortal," it bellowed. It turned to the sky again and bleated like a goat, an oddly unnerving sound coming from such a massive creature. "This, the creator loathes above all things," it explained. "An unholy union between man and demon, his creation corrupted and his law betrayed. My kin and I were cast out of paradise for the very same transgression. On top of all that you have risked thus far, you will break this sacred covenant?"

Ryan considered for a moment. Was he really about to go against some holy imperative? There seemed to be a God, and he was about to offend him gravely if he had not done so already. Oh, what did it matter? He had been in over his head from the very moment that he had chalked the summoning circle on the floor of his apartment.

"Well," he replied, "what's he done for me lately?"

Azazel clapped its massive hands together, a sound like thunder ringing out across the forest, and again it laughed heartily at the situation. It seemed to take great pleasure in the fact that Ryan was about to commit a grave sin. Azazel was the original rebel, after all, perhaps it would take any opportunity to spite its heavenly enemy.

"A spirit can be bound to an object," it elaborated, "which serves to anchor it to this material plane. It will forever be a beacon, drawing that spirit to it, calling to it across the gulfs of time and space."

Nahash took a step away from Ryan, raising her hand into the air, her palm facing her. Through its maniacal laughter, Azazel waved its gigantic arm, Ryan watching in awe as a ring of black smoke began to form around one of her digits. The vapors coalesced, becoming a solid object, forming a wedding band around her clawed finger that was as black as coal. She flashed her golden eyes at him, blinking her long lashes, and he felt something in his own hand.

He raised it to his face, watching the dark vapors circle his ring finger, becoming tight as it manifested a matching band. It was heavy, made from something like tungsten no doubt, circled with almost imperceptible runes and sigils of undeterminable purpose that were etched into its shiny surface.

These were wedding rings. Perhaps in an attempt to further pervert the laws that had seen him banished from heaven, Azazel had given the object of binding this shape. Ryan couldn't be sure if this was a parody of marriage designed only to offend or if the fallen angel was showing signs of sentiment, but it nevertheless filled Ryan's heart with love for his betrothed. This binding ritual was even more permanent and lasting than a marriage, her spirit would be drawn to him now, like a moth to a lantern in a dark forest.

"It is done..." Azazel announced as the pair looked between one another and their new adornments. "Her spirit is bound to that ring, like a Jinn in its bottle, a cursed item. Because of your actions, mortal, we are gorged on energy. She will be able to appear whenever and wherever you wish, and as long as you carry that ring, you will have no need of circles or wards. This is my gift to you."

So as long as Ryan wore this ring, she would be able to home in on him wherever he might be, appearing at his side as if he had gone through all of the motions and steps necessary to summon a demon? No need for nine-foot wide, intricately detailed summoning circles, no need for incantations and wards. It was perfect.

"Thank you," Ryan said, not sure how else to express his gratitude to the creature. Azazel chuckled, turning away and lumbering back over to its place beside the bonfire. It sat heavily, the ground shaking beneath Ryan's feet, and directed its three ruby eyes towards him.

"The debt has been repaid. Now, we celebrate!"

The flames exploded into activity, burning brighter and more violently, roaring into the night sky as the bonfire spat sparks and glowing embers into the air. The music resumed, although nobody seemed to be playing any of the instruments that Ryan could so distinctly hear, the Seirim continuing their hypnotic dancing as they circled the fire.

Their movements were graceful and fluid, unearthly, moving in ways that no human dancer could have approximated. There was a sexual energy to their dance, the thrusting of their wide hips undulating and sensuous as their pulsing motions drew attention to their womanly figures. They pranced on their long, goat-like legs, leaping and spinning as if they weighed nothing. They drew shapes in the air with their balletic arm movements, tossing their horned heads, an infinite variety of complex and textured movements syncing with the beat of the unseen drums.

Nahash turned and led Ryan by the hand towards the circle of dancing figures, he could feel the heat on his face as they got closer, her tall frame casting a flickering shadow over him as he followed behind her. He hoped that she wasn't intending for them to dance together. Even with a fellow human, he wouldn't have fared too well, keeping up with the Seirim would be physically impossible.

"You need not dance," she laughed, obviously sensing his apprehension. "I was trapped in the immaterium for a time. After you completed your contract with Orobas, he had no more use of me, and so I was stowed away in that soup of thought and emotion until Azazel came for me."

She stopped and turned to face him, the fire raging not three feet behind her. Despite her proximity, her delicate wool did not singe, and she did not seem uncomfortable in the least. She took his hands in hers, her skin cool and soft, and gazed down at him with those amber eyes.

"I had a lot of time to think, to ponder my situation and to miss my corporeal form. I pined for sensations, touch and taste, warmth and pleasure. But more than that, I found that I missed you. You are the only mortal and the only entity outside of my tribe who has ever considered what I might have wanted. You didn't think about what I could do for you, what purpose I might serve or what there was to be gained through me. Rather you treated me as a person, a fellow being with thoughts and feelings of their own. You freed me from bondage with no expectation of a reward."

She hooked her arms around him and pulled him close, her clawed fingers delving into his hair, pushing his face into the feathery wool of her chest. He breathed in her earthy aroma, hearing her heart beat beneath her skin, his hands finding their place around her hips.

"I am your reward," she whispered, a shiver running down his spine as she breathed warm air on his ear. "This time it is my choice, I will decide to whom I am bound, and I have chosen you."

She turned his chin up her with her finger, pressing her full lips against his, her dexterous tongue winding its way into his mouth to deliver a slow and powerful kiss that made him weak at the knees. He leaned into her, his hands roaming across her glass-smooth skin, his fingers sinking into yielding flesh. How he had missed her, her taste and smell, the feeling of her inviting body beneath his hands...

He glanced over at Azazel, the giant beast watching them with a toothy grin, then slowed his pace and broke away from Nahash's embrace.

"Maybe we should, uh...isn't he like...your father or something?"

She put a hand to her mouth and chuckled daintily, batting her long eyelashes at him.

"It was he who taught man to sin. I was made for this, you need not worry about offending Azazel."

"Come," Azazel bellowed, "join us in our revelry."

It waved its long arm, and suddenly Ryan noticed a ring of tables that circled the fire between the dancing Seirim and the stones that served as its border. Had those been there before? No, he hadn't seen them, or at least he hadn't noticed them before Azazel had drawn his attention to them. They were carved from wood, polished to a sheen, their legs hewn into elaborate sculptures and their tops decorated with inlaid geometric patterns. They were a dozen of them, each with a subtle curve so that once joined together they formed a perfect, ten-foot ring.

The dancing figures stepped back from them, and Azazel waved its massive hand again, claws the size of meat hooks extending from its furry fingers. Before Ryan's eyes, a smorgasbord of food materialized, popping into reality from thin air. The effect might have been almost comical had he not been in the presence of the demons, their inhuman faces lit by the crackling flames.

There were bowls filled to the brim with ripe fruits, wicker baskets packed with berries and grapes, goblets of sparkling wine and roasted meats glazed with honey that looked as if they had left the oven only moments ago. Had Azazel conjured all of this itself? Was it so powerful that it could will anything that it liked into existence? Ryan had seen Nahash influence his senses in order to create convincing illusions, but they were just that, illusions.

He walked towards the fire, the Seirim parting to grant him access, each as tall and as impressively endowed as Nahash was. They stood to either side of him on their long legs, peering down at him with their reflective eyes, each with a slightly different assortment of twisted horns that sprouted from their heads. He reached across the table and picked up a shiny, red apple from one of the bowls, its skin coated in droplets of dew. It was the most appetizing fruit that he had ever seen, but he hesitated, looking back towards Nahash for confirmation. She nodded and so he sank his teeth into it, the firm flesh cracking and its sweet juice pricking his tongue. He chewed and then swallowed, savoring the taste as it lingered in his mouth. It was delicious, as if all of the qualities of an apple had been concentrated and refined, giving it the perfect taste and texture. If it was an illusion and in reality his hand was empty, then it was a convincing one.

"Eat, drink!" Azazel laughed as it flung its arms into the air. The Seirim crowded around the tables, Nahash sidling up next to Ryan as he helped himself to the huge variety of food, the ever-present music changing tempo to become placating and relaxing. The Seirim were ravenous, putting their new bodies to good use, red wine escaping from their lips to stain their white wool as they drank heartily. They tore strips of glazed turkey and pork from the bone, popping fat grapes between their teeth and chewing mouthfuls of strawberries, washing it all down with tankards of frothing ale.

Ryan lived in a developed country and food was never scarce, but even to him, these delicacies were a rare treat. What might a wandering tribesman have thought of such a display five thousand years ago?