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Chapter 15: Two Wrongs Don't Make a Rite

The little iron door creaked open and then two long, furred ears appeared from behind it. They belonged to Pike, and were soon followed by the rest of him. He had a bundle of papers stuffed under one arm as he held the door open for Etreon, who sauntered through it as though it were a castle gate.

"Looks like you found something at least," Tuco observed.

Pike looked up at him. "Yes, we--" He broke off as he looked at Braxus. "Well, you had more than just a taste of him, didn't you?"

Braxus shuffled his forepaws, looking embarrassed. He was still enormous, still taller than Tuco even, but only barely, perhaps eight feet in height at the eartips. "We became somewhat... trapped."

"Trapped?" Pike asked with a suspicious expression. "How do you get trapped doing that?"

The wolftaur actually hid his face behind his paws, abashed, but his tail was wagging.

"I'll show you later," Tuco promised Pike.

"And how are you feeling?" Pike asked.

"Mostly relieved," Tuco said, at the same time as Braxus answered, "Well, it's smaller than I wanted, and-- mostly?"

Tuco reddened under the wolf's astonished stare, his tail swaying. "I, er, have a lot of stamina, I suppose."

"I suppose!" Braxus exclaimed. "Ugh, I feel so full in both back ends now, which is an unusual sensation."

Pike's ears perked straight up. "Both?"

Tuco rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to ignore Etreon staring up at his arm and adjusting himself lewdly. "When I was... back there... I suppose Braxus must have been overheard by a demon, and he was Changed again."

"Did you do it?" the rabbit asked, one skeptical brow raised.

"No! I didn't even know what was happening at first. And I heard the demon."

"What do you mean, did he do it?" Braxus asked. His large brown eyes grew larger. "Are you saying it's true? That he--he was the one who Changed Charo? And does that mean that Walstein--"

"We don't know anything," Pike said firmly.

"You must admit he does look like a demon. And he can just... make people smaller. What mortal--even among us Changed--can do something like that?"

"My ears can hear danger. Walstein could knock a hole through solid stone. Many among us have been granted unusual abilities. Besides, if he were a demon, the gazers would scream, wouldn't they? They call out even if a demon is riding in a possessed man. And he can touch holy water."

And besides, Tuco thought, if I were lying, you'd never know it. Not that he could voice such a thought.

You could lie, a low voice inside him suggested. You could use that devil's tongue however you wished. Tell them that they belong to you. That they adore you. That they trusssst you implicitly. How easy it would be to rule them. How easily your tongue could take dominance of this world if you'd only let it.

"Are you all right, Alkeides?" Etreon asked, staring up at him.

"What?" Tuco blinked, pulling his mind away from the odd thought.

"You looked troubled. My hero should never be troubled."

"Did I? Just distracted, I suppose. So what did you find?"

"Oh, yes." Pike took the sheaf of papers from under his arm. "I think we found it. Asmodeus, Knight of Lust. That's who we're looking for, yes?"

"That's him. But why so many pages?"

"Friend, this is all the ritual. It's twenty-four pages of written Latin."

"Was it hard to find?"

"Yes, since I'm not really built for scaling up and down shelves like a giant spider. Etreon could climb them much easier than I, but his Latin isn't good, and he had trouble handling the tomes and scrolls at his size."

"I'm too little," Etreon announced happily.

"But there's something else, Tuco. I don't think Lord Krastor left. I think something happened to him."

The hairs prickled on the back of Tuco's neck and his tail snaked tightly around his left ankle. "Why do you say that?"

Pike sighed. "Well, you saw Lord Krastor more recently than any of us. Was the library... neat, would you say?"

Tuco searched his memory. "I wouldn't say it was tidy, no. Books were stacked up everywhere, and papers too. And there were strands of his webs hanging all over."

"But nothing else unusual?" Pike probed. "Nothing about the floors or walls that seemed strange to you?"

"No, why?"

The rabbit grimaced. "The room we saw looked as though it had recently seen a... well, "scuffle" is likely too mild a word. There were slashes through papers and shelves, as though struck with a sword. There were burns on the walls and on the floor. And pitted marks, eaten through the carpets and into the stone beneath. Like something caustic had been spilled there."

"That... doesn't sound good."

"What do you think might have happened?" Braxus asked with an anxious whine.

"We can't know," Tuco said. "It might have been demons, come for him. Perhaps a summoning gone wrong?"

"Or perhaps he changed again, due to some other desire or wish," Pike muttered darkly. "Perhaps he has not gone, but become something else entirely."

"Whatever it was, he must not have seen it coming," Tuco said. "He said his eyes couldn't see the futures of mortals." When the rest of the group looked mystified at this comment, he explained what Lord Krastor had told him about his sextet of eyes, two of which could see the past, and two the future. None of the rest of them had heard this, which surprised him. But then, it seemed few had even met Lord Krastor.

"It certainly doesn't bode well," Pike said with a grimace. "He's not been seen for weeks and now it looks like something happened to him in the library."

"Something the other monks aren't telling us," Etreon put in. "Which means it's probably bad."

Braxus's ears had folded back, his tail tucked. "It doesn't mean that necessarily. You're all just making rash assumptions. The Brothers wouldn't tell us everything that Lord Krastor does. He's a Lord. It's not for us apprentices to know. He might just have gone off to spend time with his family."

"As a half-spider?" Tuco asked incredulously. "He'd not get past the first town without terrifying everyone. Queen Tibera's hunters would be after his head as an escaped monster."

They all looked at each other uncomfortably. Braxus made a low whine and said, "Well then, maybe he's just gone off for prayer and fasting. Or something. He's a holy man, after all." He shuffled a little closer to Tuco, his head lowered. Tuco ruffled his ears a little bit and the wolf's tail gave a slow wag.

Pike shook his head. "Then why not just tell us that? No, I think Tuco's right. Something happened with Lord Krastor and the Brothers are keeping mum about it. That means..." He ticked off the possibilities on his clawed fingers. "One, they don't know. Two, they do know, but aren't telling us because it's private or uninteresting. Three, they know, but aren't telling us because they're afraid of how we'd react. Which means it's alarming, or dangerous knowledge in some way. With what we saw in the library, I'm guessing whatever happened to him is pretty bad. Which means it's either number one or number three."

"There's a fourth possibility," Etreon said. They all looked at him. "They know what happened to him because they did it."

His words echoed down the hallway, leaving behind only a dread silence that fell over all of them.

---

Tuco stood with Pike in the long stone corridor outside Brother Gabriel's room. He tried not to hyperventilate with nervousness, but his breathing still sounded like the panting of some enormous beast in the empty hall.

"Easy there, big fellow," Pike whispered, patting at Tuco's arm. "You sound like a horse that's been run too hard."

"Don't say that," Tuco growled. "For all we know tomorrow I'll have a horse head too."

"It'd look damned odd with those enormous horns. And that tongue," Pike added, prompting Tuco to pull his tongue back in. He never seemed to notice anymore when he let it hang out between his fangs. "But you don't want to wake the Brothers."

Tuco tried to calm himself, slowing his breathing. "I know. But the last time I was in there, he nearly killed me!"

"He can't see you now though, can he?"

"No. I mean. He can, but he thinks he can't. So he thinks I'm a vision or some sort of apparition."

"Well, you don't even have to wake him. Just go in there and use your glamour on him, get the stuff, and get out. You'll probably give him a nice dream and that will be it."

"I suppose," Tuco said doubtfully. "But you know if he comes, I'll take part of his soul, too."

"Well, try to snap it off early. Or whatever you do. I don't really understand how it works."

Tuco slumped. "I don't either. Did you bring the oil?"

Pike held out a small bottle of olive oil. Tuco took it and carefully applied a coating to each of the door hinges to stop them squeaking. "I hope he doesn't notice this tomorrow."

Tuco took another deep breath and, as slowly as he could, depressed the wrought-iron latch and pulled open the heavy, wooden door. It didn't quite open soundlessly, the hinges crunching and grinding a bit as they swiveled, but it didn't have the loud creak from before, either. The room inside was pitch dark, and he could barely see.

He stepped forward as quietly as he was able. Once, he had been able to tiptoe through rooms with mouselike subtlety, but now, his enormous body made so much noise, muscle sliding against muscle as he walked, each foot rasping against the floor as the hundreds of pounds of his weight was distributed across them. He'd gone barefoot to avoid the creaking of leather sandals, but that only left the pointed tips of his toe claws to click and scratch against the floor as he walked. He had to duck his head low and twist his body to the side to avoid his shoulders bumping into the doorframe or the tips of his horns scraping against the stone as he entered.

He loomed in the darkness, letting his eyes adjust to the meagre light from the opened door. It took a minute or two, but gradually, the pitch black of the room lightened enough that he could see clearly. Brother Gabriel lay on his back on the hard cot, his head tilted back. He didn't snore, but his breath hissed through his long nose as he breathed the slow steady tempo of the slumbering. He had removed his robe and slept only in thin white undergarments. His chest was narrow and slender, matted with dark hair that grew down his belly. His long limbs twitched as he lay, and occasionally he would turn his head and make muttering sounds in a low, haunted voice.

Tuco dared not touch the man, for fear of waking him, but he only had to step a little closer, close enough for his power to affect Brother Gabriel. He could let it extend out of him, as it had in the rectory earlier, but all of it focused on Brother Gabriel. He could draw bliss out of the sleeping man; some part of him knew how to do it. Hob had told him that incubi often preyed on mortals while they were sleeping, sending lustful thoughts into their dreams. The subconscious mind responded to its desires far more easily than the conscious one. In dreams Brother Gabriel would be aroused, and then Tuco's presence would urge him to a blissful, slumbering climax. Tuco would have to take a little of the man's soul; that was unavoidable, but he was certain he could stop himself quickly. After that, he could carefully gather the monk's spilled seed and escape.

He crouched by the man's cot, aware of his hulking size in the darkness, how threatening he would appear if the man awakened. On the wall, Brother Gabriel's sword glimmered. He ignored it and focused. It took him no time at all to find the arousal within him. Though his activity with Braxus had relieved the intensity of his lust, erection came as easily to him as breathing. His body was made for it. He gritted his teeth as his tender flesh rose rapidly within his coarse tunic, throbbing with sudden need. Some dark part of him wished to awaken Brother Gabriel, to see his eyes widen at the twin prongs above him, wielded by a massive devil. He wanted to see the terror and hunger war in the holy man's eyes. He wanted to crouch over the man and drizzle his preseed in the matted hair of his chest, to let him smell his raw masculinity but not taste. He wanted to hold down his arms and make the monk buck against his own lust, but not touch. He wanted to tease and torment him until he begged Tuco to take him, until he pledged his very soul for the promise of that pleasure.

And then, when he had reduced the holy man to a pleading, aching, desperate wretch begging to be relieved of his abstinence, of his devotion, of his soul, only then would Tuco drive into him and flood him with pleasure that obliterated his every virgin imagining.

The promise of that feast of ecstasy nearly consumed him with lust, and when he leaned forward, he saw that the slumbering monk felt it too: his undergarments lifted with his arousal, the narrow tip of his erection poking up above them. Tuco let his essence mingle with Brother Gabriel's. He crooked two taloned fingers as though beckoning, and with the motion, the monk's erection strained upward as if answering, a bead of his own slippery lust forming at his exposed tip.

"No. No," Brother Gabriel moaned, and twisted in his cot, pulling at the thin sheet. He turned his head back and forth, his face stretched as if in horror.

Tuco stared down at him, and stood upright abruptly. What was he doing? This wasn't who he was, was it? Brother Gabriel was an innocent man. Not kind or generous, perhaps, but innocent. And unwilling. Asleep.

He stumbled a few steps back from the cot, his tail lashing. It hit the monk's desk with a thump that sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet room. He froze in place, not daring to breathe.

Brother Gabriel's eyes snapped open and he drew in a long, terrified breath. "What? What was that?" He leaned up on one elbow, his eyes dilated wide as he scanned the room. "Is someone there?"

The room was surely bright enough to reveal Tuco, but the monk's eyes slid by him vacantly. His lie was still affecting Brother Gabriel; even if he could see Tuco, he believed he could not.

"That shape," the man mumbled. "That shape in the darkness. So very like... but no, a shadow it is. A nightmare, and naught else. A punishment mayhap for these curséd desires. Oh Lord Almighty, forgive thy servant, whose sinful mind turns to vile seduction in his slumber. Grant him chasteness of soul as well as of body, that he may dream only of thy glory." He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then blinked, wide-eyed, at Tuco twice more, and laid back down, covering up his still-jutting erection with a sigh.

Tuco waited several minutes until the man's breathing slowed and then, slowly as he dared, he crept out of the room and closed the door, only barely remembering to yank his damned tail out of the way in time.

The torchlight in the hallway was so bright after the darkness of the room, he had to shield his eyes with one hand.

"Did you get it?" Pike whispered.

Tuco shook his head. "I couldn't do it."

"Why not? Did he wake up? I thought I heard him speak."

"Yes, but that's not why. It's wrong, Pike. I couldn't do it. He's innocent."

Pike snorted. "I'd hardly call him innocent."

"Of this, anyway. And besides, he's unwilling. And asleep."

The rabbit-man stared back at the door and rubbed at his chin. "Yes, all right. I see the vice in it, when you frame it so. But you realize this doesn't help us with our problem. If you don't acquire the seed of a virgin, we've no way to stop your curse. And that means, willing or no, you're like to feed on one or all of us before a fortnight is out."

"I know," Tuco sighed and leaned against a wall, slumping down into a crouch. "But I can't do it like that. I'm sorry, Pike."

"Sorry?" Pike turned toward him. "Tuco, don't apologize for not falling into vice. Don't you see that that is why you don't sound dangerous to me? Because you've got a good heart underneath all the enormous muscle and the horns and the... the..." He trailed off, staring at Tuco.

"Pike?"

"Your--your eyes," Pike whispered. "They're... well, you'd better go and take a look."

An uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Tuco hurried to the washroom, empty at this time of night, and bright as day even with just a few candles flickering on the walls. He gripped a basin in both hands and hunched down so he could see himself in the looking-glass. Below the large horns jutting from his brow, his face looked the same as it always had--but for his eyes. Once brown, they had turned a brilliant ruby red, the irises widening to take up most of the space, the whites barely visible. They seemed almost to glow with an inner light of their own. But most disturbing of all, his pupils had changed. No longer round, they cut through the blood-red field of his gaze like black sickles, curved and slitted like a serpent's.

---

Sleep came less easily that night than any previous. Even with his candle extinguished and the door tightly closed to permit no light from the hallway, Tuco's room seemed as brightly lit as during the day. There was no visible source of light; he could just see it, but only in shades of grey, as though at night there was no darkness, but all colors fled the world. When he peered out the tiny window on the far side of his cell-like room, he could see the landscape below spread out in ethereal grey, a ghost mountainside extending into a grey forest, looking almost luminescent in a night that bore no illumination but starlight. The absence of shadows was the eeriest thing; he'd never looked upon a room, much less a landscape, and not seen shadows cast by the source of light. It was not something he'd have expected, but it was unsettling to see, as though the world floated in some constructed vision. Before his new eyes, the night was a spirit world.

And he noticed, too, that he could more easily discern the distance of everything in front of him; the slits of his pupils brought everything directly before him into an unparalleled focus. In the night, a gnat floated before his vision, and his eyes focused on it, twin windows of attention intersecting in his vision, an X with a humming gnat at its crux. He could see every beat of its tiny wings, and before he even realized what he was doing, he shot out a hand and caught it--not crushed it, caught it by its wings. It dangled, its six legs flailing, its wings pinched lightly between his thumb and forefinger. He carried it to the window and set it free into the night air. He'd wondered often why cats and serpents had slitted pupils, but the question had been answered directly for him: to enable them to pounce, to strike upon prey more accurately.

And what was his prey then? What the intent of these devil eyes?

He sighed and lay down, but with no darkness, he found it impossible to sleep. Even with his eyes closed tightly there was no black, only pink: the color of his eyelids reflecting the dim glow he now was certain lit his pupils. He took up a pallet and held it over his eyes, but of course it didn't help. Darkness didn't exist for him anymore.

He thought back to when he was a child, running home from an errand at night, the world around him pitch black, full of imagined terrors. If you couldn't see, you couldn't know, and so your imagination filled in the black spaces with all of your worst fears. Impossible to dispel with no light. Fear of darkness was normal for a child, but rational even for an adult. Now it was just gone.

And he realized that now he was one of the things in the dark, something huge enough to carry a grown man off into the forest. Something horned and clawed, with bestial fangs and a tail. Something lurking in the darkness, able to see everyone staring wild-eyed into the blinding night. Able to, so easily, pounce.

And he was still changing. No demon had heard a wish to grant him his night-piercing eyes or his flesh-piercing talons. The devils' curses had changed him too, assuredly, but he was sure that whatever that ritual of Brother Melvin's had done, it was not finished with him yet. He had no idea how to stop it. Perhaps Hob would have some idea, he considered.

He lay back and tried to sleep again. His father had always told him to count sheep in order to fall asleep, but he could never see how that was supposed to help. He would always count up to somewhere around one hundred before his mind wandered to other topics. Now, instead of counting sheep, he found himself counting apprentices, going through them one by one and imagining which of them might be a virgin and able to contribute seed to the ritual. Surely none of them, as they'd reportedly all been to see Elf, and while climaxing at the sight of the most beautiful man in the world might not technically be a loss of virginity, the activities that invariably followed between the initiated apprentice and his host certainly would be. Besides, what apprentice could get through a week here, much less his entire tenure, without finding some lovely man with whom to ease temptation?

Among the monks it might be more likely, but surely any of those who was still a virgin did not remain one through lack of opportunity. No, it would be through solemn vow and devotion to a life of chastity.

Tuco found his mind lingering on thoughts of Brother Sandford, the monk with a back of floral tendrils who'd seemingly had a fondness for large and powerful men. He'd seemed susceptible to temptation; perhaps he'd never been with another. And Tuco had certainly made an impression on him. Did he lie on his back now, relaxing on a literal bed of roses, stroking himself while he thought of Tuco?

The satiation Tuco had received from Braxus had begun to ebb, and Tuco's twin shafts crept up his naked body, one splaying to each side of his belly as they extended. Drowsily, Tuco cupped one in each hand. The twin sensation was still just as delightful, the intense throb of rising pleasure doubled in his loins. Idly, he stroked at himself, moving both hands at the same time and then abruptly deciding to alternate, sliding one hand down as he tugged up with the other, and the contrasting sensation on each cock confused his mind enough to send it into a whorl of pleasure. His left shaft abruptly flexed, sending preseed splashing across his chest--surprisingly hot--and he leaned up and licked his pectorals clean with his flat, forked tongue. He'd tasted lust on the air many times now, but the taste of his own fluids on his chest was the difference between smelling cool water on a hot day and being plunged into a river of it. He was a being of pure lust now--he oozed it, and with a groan he pushed his hips up to press his lips to his right tip just as it, too, released male nectar into his jaws.

His satisfied growl was hungry and deep. He hadn't known he could make a sound like that. He wanted to grow bigger, and so he did, his twin shafts bowing toward him with more and more weight as they expanded in size, turning pointed at their tips as they became more like the twin canine shafts he'd fucked Braxus with. They extended in his hands, filling his palms and still swelling, his pulse pounding through the thickening veins that entwined them. He wrapped his tongue around the right shaft and stuffed the tip into his mouth, suckling at it as it grew, larger and larger, pushing his jaws open. His tail found his other shaft and joined his hands in stroking it, spreading his fountaining syrups over it. He moaned, arching his back as he rocked into his self-pleasure, his hips shifting uncomfortably as they widened to make way for the impossible girth of two thigh-thick cocks. He felt his balls swelling, pushing against each other as they fought for room between them, each growing bigger than his head, their surfaces turning soft as they sprouted grey wolf fur that extended up into two fuzzy sheaths stretching to contain the bases of his oversized shafts. He nearly choked on the flow of preseed down his throat, but he could not stop.

He imagined himself growing larger and larger, extending until his tips pressed against the ceiling of the room, smearing his lust there, and then traveling through the walls like the demons, finding every corner of the Abbey. In his mind, he found the apprentices in their quarters, some sleeping in their beds, their sheets rising higher, some half-awake and toying with themselves dreamily, others awake and surprised to find themselves filled with sudden need. He found the monks in their rooms, most asleep, but some kneeling in prayer, suddenly losing focus as needs more physical than spiritual made themselves known. He thought of the agonizing ecstasy they'd feel, responding to the devil of lust among them, reminding them that they were male, that they could feel pleasure as easily as wishing it, that their desire could show itself and not be hidden.

Even, he imagined finding the twisted creatures in the Throat, their desires and manifestations thereof warped and enhanced by unknowable changes. They too would feel him and respond. He sent them all the pleasure he felt, the pleasure of knowing just how to enjoy oneself, and not just doubled, but echoed, amplified, by the pleasure of everyone around them. He arched his back in lust and fancied that the whole Abbey arched with him. It was incredible to him that lust could be thought a vice, its indulgence a sin. They were beautiful, all of them, united in their pleasure and their need, in the throes that made them moan, clench their toes, thrust upward. They, all of them, were his kin, his mates, joined together in pleasure and desire. He wanted to touch every one of them, enter every one, be entered by them, embrace them, taste them, taste their delicious--

He came. His cocks bucked hard, first the left, yanking itself out of his hand, and then his right, nearly pulling itself free of his mouth. He spluttered in surprise at the incredible gout of liquid that flooded his throat, and nearly choked again, but he swallowed his own thick, hot seed, so fast it made his stomach hurt. His other shaft bounced with his climax, geysering against the wall above him and sending come splashing down over him like someone had emptied a bucket.

And as he came, above the sound of his own muffled gulps and the splattering of his seed, he heard a sound from all through the Abbey: many, many groans and moans echoing in unison, eerie as they echoed down the corridor. It hadn't been merely his erotic fantasy. He'd connected to all of them, every living person in the Abbey. They were all climaxing with him, sharing his pleasure.

And then, streaming toward him through the air, hundreds of strands of light. His eyes went wide as they filled with soullight. It poured into him, filling him, the essence of everyone here. Hundreds right now would be bucking on their beds in infernal pleasure, spilling out their seed, shrinking little by little as they gave themselves to him.

You could take it all. Feed on all of them at once. Shrink them down to a few feet high, a few inches. Take not one soul, but more than a hundred, and face Asmodeus with the dread abilities of a young incubus entering his prime.

No, he shouted back in his mind. Why would you think such a thing?

Because you want it. You want all the temptations and the freedom to indulge them as only a devil can. Complete your change and become the devil you were meant to be. Devour your friends. Leave a few the size of insects to toy with, should it amuse you.

You're a trick, he thought back. The voice of Asmodeus deceiving me. Or some demon in the walls.

No. I am you. See how eagerly you feed.

Abruptly he realized that while he had been lost amidst the pleasure of climax and then arguing with his own mind, the threads had been streaming into him, souls of everyone around him disappearing by the second. He tore himself away from the sensation, clenching his eyes closed as though he could sever the soul-strands with his eyelids. The threads of light pulled away from him and retreated, disappearing from the room.

He lay panting, soaked in his own fluids, still erupting, still wracked with pleasure, but the connection to the other souls was gone for now. He felt as though he were vibrating with life. His body felt potent, his skin prickling, as though he were a thunderstorm about to strike a waiting valley. It felt wondrous.

He had done it again. He'd fed on everyone, just as Hob had warned. And worst was, the next time it happened, Tuco wasn't certain he would be able to stop.

---

Pike pushed the door open and peered into Tuco's room, his gaze blank. "Tuco? You in here?"

Tuco frowned at him. "Of course I am," he said, and suppressed a laugh as Pike jumped straight up about two feet.

The rabbit reached both paws in front of him, feeling at the air. "You, uh, mind a little light in here, glowy-eyes?"

"What? Oh, of course." Tuco reached up and swiveled the sconce on the wall right-side up. It spit and crackled into life, flooding the room with brilliant color. "I'm sorry. I just--"

"You can see in the dark, can't you?" Pike asked. "I knew it. When I saw your eyes flash, I--I know I've never actually been a real rabbit, but for a moment I felt like a frightened thing crouching in the grass, afraid you'd seen me."

Without waiting for Tuco to answer, he sauntered into the room, looking around. "Well, this is... suspiciously clean."

Tuco gave a sheepish shrug. "Hob is surprisingly efficient at cleaning up."

"I'll bet. That was you last night, wasn't it?"

"How much did I--? I mean, how much did everyone lose?"

"A few inches, it seems. It's hard to tell because everyone shrank the same amount. I don't think most even realize that they're smaller. Just mystified that clothes don't fit properly and all the furniture seems a bit higher. No more disorienting than a bad hangover. Except Etreon. Three inches to him is a foot."

"I--I'm sorry, I didn't even know it was happening until--"

Pike put a gentle paw on Tuco's knee. He made a little shiver, and Tuco tasted his arousal rise. "You don't have to apologize. I know you can't help it. Did you get everyone this time?"

"I think I did. Why? Are the Brothers behaving strangely?"

"You could say that. They're not here. That is, they're in the Abbey, but they're all cloistered together in some sort of dire meeting. No one at breakfast, no rituals, no lessons. Even Mass has been cancelled."

Tuco let out a low whistle. "So they know something's happening."

"But they can't know who."

"Not yet, perhaps, but Brother Gabriel has had it out for me since our meeting, and I'm sure he'll want them to pay special attention. If one of the Brothers gets near me like this--"

"Or if they talk to Brother Sandford," Pike reminded him.

Tuco's face fell. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Tuco, if you're right about last night, you made every monk in the Abbey climax simultaneously. That won't escape attention. If they figure out it's you, they might decide that you're dangerous to all of them."

His tail coiled tightly around his left ankle. "What are you saying?"

"Tuco. They could put you in the Throat."

The Throat. Shut away in a hole in the ground forever, surrounded by unspeakable monsters. He slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, trying to control his breathing. "Well. First thing, we've got to cure me of this curse."

"But you didn't get the seed last night, so how can we--"

Tuco picked up a little glass phial from the wall beside his pallet and held it up. "We've got the seed."

Pike stared at him. "But--but how? Did you go back to Brother Gabriel?"

"Not exactly. Hob brought it this morning. It seems Brother Gabriel had intense dreams last night. Hob knew what I'd... what had happened with me and went to collect it on his own."

The rabbit scratched at an ear. "So all your moral fortitude last night was for nothing, it seems."

"It matters," Tuco insisted. "It matters what I choose, regardless of what happens."

The rabbit's brown eyes gazed into his. "It matters to you. And to me, because I care about what kind of person you are. But I doubt Brother Gabriel would see the finer points of the argument."

"That's why we need to use the pearl, the seed, and the rite, and summon Asmodeus as soon as possible. It's just as well the Brothers are too busy in their own rooms to notice and catch us summoning a devil. Would you and Etreon be able to help me?"

"Of course. But what happens when you finally call him? Do you have any plan to defeat him?"

"Well, theoretically a devil that's summoned must obey the commands of the summoner. So we could try just ordering him to lift the curse and trouble us no more."

"Yes, but you've been in the same classes as I have. You know the more powerful devils have a thousand ways to deceive the summoner or twist his commands to undermine him. Not to mention you'd be risking your soul entering into any agreement with him."

Tuco nodded. "But Hob says if I can't get him to lift the curse--or tell me how to do it--there's one other thing I could try. I could challenge him."

"Challenge him to what?"

"Well, with each of the devils it's different. But Hob says among incubi the most usual challenge is one of sexual stamina. Each attempts to draw climax from the other. Whichever climaxes first loses."

"And then?"

"Well, you know what happens if an incubus makes you come."

Pike's ears dropped. "Oh. Tuco, don't you think this plan smacks of insanity? I mean, you're going to summon a... a knight of the Abyss, an incubus who had enough power to turn you into one in the first place, who must have had millennia of practice at tormenting and tempting mortals, who's probably devoured thousands of souls. And you're going to challenge him to a sex competition? Don't mistake me, just looking at you is making me want to grab my ankles for you, and getting to touch you is... I... I..." He trailed off, inhaling and leaning toward Tuco.

Tuco bit his lip and fought down the ocean of passion rising in him. "Focus, Pike."

"Right, okay, so you're a lodestone to which all desire points, but you've only had several days of practice at this. This Asmodeus fellow has had uncountable lifetimes. There's no way you can beat him. And if you don't, he'll devour your soul. It's a losing proposition, friend. You cannot beat him in a fair fight."

"You're right." Tuco gave Pike a wide, fang-filled grin. "Which is why we're going to cheat."