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Chapter 17: A Turbulent Priest

The sunlight dappling the forest floor swam as the leaves above swayed in a gentle breeze. The day might have seemed peaceful, even idyllic, were Tuco not bound and under the control of his most feared mortal enemy. And whatever the once austere monk's hold on reality had been, it had slipped. His eyes, wild and febrile, darted back and forth, searching for the devil he had trapped, but was convinced he could not see.

Tuco remembered all too well the lie he had told with his devil's tongue, hissing, "You can't sssee me," in a moment of panic. And due to the fiendish power of that tongue, Brother Gabriel had believed the lie completely. Even though his eyes could behold Tuco, even be distracted by him, dart in his direction when Tuco moved, his mind was convinced that he could not. And that, Tuco feared, was the initial crack that had fractured Brother Gabriel's sanity-a crack that had widened into paranoia, desperation, and finally madness. If so, he could blame no one but himself that he had ended up here, trapped in this circle. He might not have intended it, but here they were all the same.

"Where are we?" he ventured, looking around. He did not recognize the forest, but one strip of woodland looked much like another.

Brother Gabriel's cheeks quivered for a moment as if in imminent outburst, but then he breathed deeply, calming himself, straightening and pulling back his shoulders. He might have looked dignified, were his clothes not tattered and filthy. "Silence, Devil! You will not speak unless I bid you do so. Neither will you use your powers to change me or anything else, unless expressly ordered by me to do so. You will do only what I command. You will speak no untruths to me. You are my slave now. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Tuco answered through gritted fangs. There was no telling what the mad monk might cause him to do with his power, and he was helpless to do anything to prevent it.

"Good. Then first, I command you to reveal yourself to me. Let me finally see your vile form."

Tuco tried to protest, but though he opened his mouth, no voice came from it, just a faint breath of air. He could not even feel the hum of his vocal cords. The priest had ordered him silent unless bidden to speak.

"Well?" Brother Gabriel demanded after a moment. "Show yourself, devil! I command it!" When there was still no response from Tuco, he shouted, "What is this defiance? How can you resist my command? Speak!"

"I cannot!" Tuco blurted out, almost surprising himself. "But I cannot make you see me because you already can."

The monk's eyes bulged in fury. "I ordered you not to lie to me!"

"And I do not. You can see me, but believe you cannot, because long ago I planted a lie in your mind. It's something I regret, but cannot take back. No matter what I do, you will always believe you can't see me."

"Because I can't!" fumed Brother Gabriel.

Tuco sighed.

"Very well then, use your power again! Plant another... belief in my mind."

"It only works if it's a lie. If I could make people believe the truth, my whole life would be so much easier."

Brother Gabriel curled his upper lip and began to pace back and forth, kneading at his temple with one hand. "Then... then what you're telling me is that this is impossible for you."

"Yes. No devil can undo what's been done."

The monk narrowed his eyes. "We shall see about that. You see, I have a plan. I know things. This summoning spell that called you. Very ancient. Much too ancient to contain the name of a so-called apprentice barely of age to grow a beard. Do you know who scribed this spell?"

"I do not," Tuco confessed.

"One Brother Theodotus. I looked through the Abbey's records. Brother Theodotus was living here more than six hundred years ago. That was when he wrote down your name. He was present for the construction and founding of Abyssus Abbey. And that means" -Brother Gabriel's voice deepened to a growl- "so were you."

But that's impossible, Tuco wanted to protest. But, unbidden, he could not speak, and instead stood silent.

"You've been here from the very beginning," Brother Gabriel said, his voice growing louder, tighter, as he paced more quickly. "Plotting, laying plans, manipulating people. For all we know, everything the Abbey has been doing for the last six hundred years has all been part of some devil's scheme with you, Tuco Witchywine, at the very heart of it, and your name is written in indelible ink on this parchment to prove it! The studies of devils, the use of enchantments, the constant flirting with corruption, the fracturing of the seals, you were there before it all." He turned, fixing where he imagined Tuco's face to be with a narrow, accusatory stare-though his gaze was, in point of fact, very low and slightly to the right. "You started it all. Didn't you?"

"No!" Tuco protested, relieved to be able to speak.

"Lies!" Brother Gabriel snapped, though he had of course commanded Tuco to tell only the truth. "How can I believe a word you say? If you truly tricked me into believing I cannot see you, then you could have used equal measures to ensure I never could hear the truth from your lips. I cannot trust anything you say." He bared yellowed teeth. "But I can take measures to correct what you've done."

And Brother Gabriel drew himself up to his full height, speaking his next words as though he had practiced them over and over. "Devil, I command you: take me into history. Carry me whole and unharmed into the past of Abyssus Abbey, on the day your name was written on this parchment. And there will I stop all your sinister plans before they have begun."

Tuco tried to protest that such a thing was beyond his power, but he could not speak. And then, to his horror, he felt an incalculable number of souls drawn from his Voidsea. It was not dozens, or hundreds, but millions of them. Whatever was answering Brother Gabriel's command must have cost a tremendous amount of power. Without regard for his care for them, for his chance to make a selection of only the most evil souls, more than a million rose from Tuco's Voidsea and just like that, were extinguished, snuffed out to fuel a magic beyond Tuco's comprehension. He wanted to howl in despair, to weep and beat the ground in mourning at the sudden extinction of so many souls. But he could not. He could only stand silently as the magic took them, as Gabriel grinned, utterly unwitting of the terrible annihilation he had caused. The air was sodden with the taste of his vanity, and it was the sweetest and most corrupt thing Tuco had ever tasted. No monk this; Tuco would never again be able to think of him as a man of God.

Around them, the world wrenched and twisted before his eyes. The forest they now stood in was darker, wilder, and wetter. The trees loomed overhead, branches broad and hanging with shaggy moss, trunks as big around as houses. The undergrowth below grew sparsely, creating the illusion that they were standing in an enormous, wood-pillared cavern, though that illusion was spoiled by the torrential rain pouring in between the branches of the canopy high overhead, running in rivulets from the ends of branches. Tuco's wings lifted instinctively to shelter his head from the rain, and the sound of the water pattering across their membranes made Gabriel's head snap in his direction, looking for a creature he could hear but not discern. "Have we done it? Where are we?"

"I did as you commanded," Tuco answered unwillingly. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"What I had to, to preserve the future of mankind. Now. You will convey me safely back to the Abbey. Stealthily. I do not wish to alarm those dwelling there."

Tuco took a step forward, and found that, as before, a magical image of the binding circle moved with him, keeping him enclosed even as he followed Gabriel's orders. The monk flinched when he felt Tuco's arms fold around him; the frail man felt like little more than a thin collection of sticks wrapped in a robe.

"What-what are you doing?" he stammered. "I commanded you not to harm me."

"And I cannot," Tuco answered.

Were you unbound, or had you taken the chance when you had it, you could have broken him as simply as a fistful of reeds.

The errant thought struck him as monstrous. Never would he wish to kill anyone, even someone as cruel and harmful as Gabriel. But the thought took hold in his mind, burrowed in, as his wings spread and beat, lifting him into the air, and Gabriel emitted a little shriek of fright and clutched at Tuco's arms. Ignoring him, Tuco flapped again and again, rising into the air above the wild forest as the rain poured down around them. In moments, he had risen above the treetops. The forest beneath him was dark and wild, and the pouring rain clouded much of the landscape in its shadow, but as Tuco rose, he recognized the contours of the sprawling green and the mountains it hugged. This was the forest at the base of Abyssus Abbey's mountain; Gabriel must have fled to it when the prison of the Throat collapsed. And on the mountaintop above them rose a skeletal shape of a building that looked much like Abyssus Abbey. At first Tuco thought he was looking at ruins, but as he winged his way out of the shroud of rain, he realized that in fact, he was seeing the building in its early decades of construction.

He flapped closer, trying to ignore Gabriel's incoherent screaming and scrabbling at his arm. Had Tuco ever been so cowardly about flight? He didn't think so. He burst out of the downpour and into a broken patch of morning sunlight, enjoying the warmth on his wet scales. His flying seemed to have strengthened, because he was approaching the Abbey at impressive speed, and now he could see that while the central rooms of the Abbey-the central chapel, the main cloisters, the refectory, the library, the dormitories-had been erected, much was still unfinished- skeletal scaffolding erected around the squat, low walls of limestone still being assembled. Below them, the path up the mountain was a wide, muddy track, scarred by deep troughs where mule trains had hauled the heavy limestone blocks on what must have been an exhausting, interminable journey up the steep ascent.

Tuco scanned the summit with his four, keen eyes, but could make out no immediate signs of activity-a scant surprise considering the rainstorm he'd just winged his way out of. Not wishing to risk apprehension by whatever clergy and construction crews might be sheltering below, he stretched out his wings and spiraled downward toward the rooftop of the abbey, alighting on his clawed toes and releasing Gabriel, who still clung fiercely to him. Tuco snapped his wings with distaste, wishing the man free of him. He stank of vanity. He wished he could explain to Gabriel the great evil he had committed. Other men had been murderers, even waged war and been responsible for the deaths of many. But those souls had lived on. Gabriel, through his callous demand of Tuco's power, had destroyed the souls themselves.

He stretched himself upright, allowing the size and swell of his body to push Gabriel's grip free of him, and the mad priest stumbled backward, shivering with cold and trembling with fear. "How-how dare you?" he demanded, wiping water from his eyes.

"I but did as you commanded," Tuco rumbled back. He did not bother restraining the fury in his voice. "Master."

"I like not your insolent tone. Henceforth you will address me in a reverent voice, nor shall you lay hold of me without being granted my express permission. Am I understood?"

Rage boiled inside Tuco's brain; he wished to roar, to bellow, to backhand this murderer and send him flying against a wall, to cripple his mind with permanent lust, to shrink him down and devour his soul, at least in part. For all his might and power, he was helpless within the binding spell that Gabriel had used to trap him. He tried to snarl back his assent, but his voice caught in his throat. He struggled, his fury rising again, that even his voice had been stolen from him.

"I said, are we understood?" Gabriel snapped.

Compulsion forced Tuco's head low, his voice calm and compliant as he answered, "Yes, Master." He could not even clench his teeth around the words. His fury at being compelled pounded in his eyes, blurred his vision.

"Good. Now, let us proceed into the Abbey. Follow close to my heels, and touch nothing but the floor. Speak to no one without my authorization. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

Gabriel strode across the roof to the stairwell and, unwillingly, Tuco followed, gnashing his teeth.

A more experienced devil, a more powerful devil, could escape this binding easily, the voice in his mind purred. I could grant you that power.

The anger in Tuco stirred, mingling with panic. He had been having these sinister thoughts for some time, but this was the first time they'd ever addressed him as though they belonged to someone else. He tried to demand, "Who is this?" but unbidden by Gabriel, he could not speak. And yet the voice answered him anyway.

You know who this is. I have been with you for so long. Watching through your eyes. Coloring your thoughts. It is my horns that grow from your head. It is my souls you use to fuel your magic. My logos welded into your soul.

And Tuco knew now for certain the thought that he had been terrified to look at, to address. He had told himself that the strange thoughts were just passing temptations, aspects of his devil nature asserting itself. He had told himself that they were whispers, bad dreams. But they were real. They came from another mind held within his own. The Prince of Darkness. Sathanus.

A low chuckle bounced around his thoughts, creating little spasms of fear. So finally you acknowledge me. And now you know. And now you will ask me for power, for vengeance against this pitiful little man who squanders our fortune and makes slaves of us.

I will not.

You will. Your heart lusts for vengeance. I taste it in your arteries, your veins. Vengeance is your due. You are here now because of this man, and you will not escape while he lives. You know this. Your freedom comes only through his destruction. And I can grant it to you. I can make it delicious. We can transform him into everything he despises. We can bring him low before his angels, before his pathetic god.

Tuco shook his head. However well Sathanus knew Tuco, it was not well enough. His voice oozed with anticipation of pain and torments, and Tuco thought again of Sathanus's realm of horror, draining from him the desire to punish Gabriel.

If you refuse me, he will sacrifice more souls to feed his lust for power. Those souls will be on your head then, for you could have prevented it. You can stop him from destroying more lives. All you have to do, Tuco Witchywine, is say yes to me. Ask me for vengeance and I shall help you grant it. Ask me.

It was a compelling point, Tuco had to admit. And yet, he knew Sathanus was a liar, he knew that the devil had spent centuries making traps out of vengeance. Who would next come seeking vengeance against Tuco? And what of the cost to his own soul?

These concerns are selfish, the devil's voice admonished him. Think you your own life, your own soul, is worth more than those souls you harbor within you? How many souls is your own soul worth? Would you sacrifice it to save ten souls? A hundred? A million? How many more must be obliterated so that Tuco Witchywine can keep his precious innocence?

How many more souls will be damned if I give in to a promise of vengeance from Sathanus? Tuco thought back defiantly. I may not be wise enough to see your trap, Sathanus, but I'm not fool enough to step willingly into it. I will never turn to you for vengeance.

There was a long pause. They rounded the bottom of the stairs and entered the lower cloister. You will, Sathanus answered finally, the thought sounding sullen. One day you will beg me for it.

Their trip down the stairs had taken longer than it should have; Tuco realized only now that Gabriel was moving with his hand pressed firmly against the wall, feeling the steps down with his toes. Belatedly, Tuco noticed that the sconces on the walls were not only unlit, they were missing. The builders must not yet have installed them; or perhaps they were still working out how to compel demons to enchant them. Apparently it was too dark in here for Gabriel to see. Though Tuco had no difficulty, he didn't dare allow himself to feel smug; the man was one demand away from sacrificing more souls to create some kind of internal daylight.

"Hello?" Gabriel called out, his voice ringing down the corridor. "Can I get some light here?"

After a moment, the flicker of flame came from the far end of the cloister. Instinctively, Tuco withdrew into the stairwell, folding his wings tightly to his back and hunching down. Peering around the corner, he saw a small, fat man hustling down the cloister, a candle in one hand, the other lifting his cassock to prevent him tripping. He had young features, though he was already balding. He squinted in the dim light as he came closer, a look of surprise dawning on him as he encountered Gabriel standing near the stairwell.

"Hello?" His voice was light and untired, but his accent sounded strange to Tuco, his words twisted and musical. He looked Gabriel up and down, regarding the monk's tattered and filthy clothing, his dirty hands and haggard face, and his expression narrowed to one of unease. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you. Have you just come from the bishopry?"

"What in blazes?" Gabriel said in response, looking puzzled. "Where are you from? Have you anyone here who speaks English?"

The smaller monk tilted his head. "Eeeengliss?" he repeated slowly.

"English! English!"

Both of them looked puzzled, and Tuco was no less confused, until he noticed that the other monk's twisting, musical words did not quite sound familiar to him, though he understood them perfectly. Of course, he thought, a devil would not be limited by language; he would understand the language of another's soul. These words were similar to the English language Tuco knew, but spoken with a lilt and a dialect unfamiliar, just as when a traveler from one of the Near Isles had journeyed through Tuco's village, and had had difficulty making himself understood.

But, as Tuco could not speak unbidden, he was forced to remain silent as Gabriel and the other monk repeated the word "English" back at each other in increasingly loud and frustrated voices. Finally, Gabriel seemed to remember himself, and snapped, "Enough. Translate for me, devil. What language does this man speak?"

"He speaks English, Master," Tuco answered. The binding forced him to keep his voice low and reverent, but it was still deep and booming, and the other monk flinched and took several steps backward in the hall, one shaking hand raising his candle higher. "But it is different enough as to be another language to you. Perhaps time has changed our words beyond our recognition. The man does not recognize you and wonders if you have come from the bishopry."

Gabriel rubbed at his stubbled chin. "Tell him that I am Brother Gabriel, come from the city of London, that it has been a long and weary journey, and that I am here to inspect the construction and establishment of the abbey. Translate everything we say so that we may understand each other."

Tuco wished to protest, but he could not, and was forced to repeat the lie to the monk, wincing as he heard the sibilance in his tongue.

The monk visibly relaxed as the prevarication settled into his mind, and lowered his candle a little. "Well, that is a long journey indeed! You must be exhausted. How did you find your way to the inner cloister without running into anyone at the gates? Ah well, never mind. I am Brother Theodotus. I can help you find quarters. But, er, if you don't mind, who is that deep-voiced person with you, in the shadows? He seems a frightful fellow, if you don't mind my saying."

"Not a who, but a what," answered Gabriel, upon hearing Tuco's translation. "It is a demon, but never fear. I have it completely under my power, and it can do you no harm. It is a great shame to me that I have been forced to capture it so, but I had not the means to destroy it, and so I have bound it to my will. It is my hope that here I will find a way of rendering it unto oblivion."

Tuco watched the range of emotions pass over Brother Theodotus's face: fear, then relief and curiosity as the lies conveyed by Gabriel warped his understanding. "A demon, you say? How fascinating! However did you find it?"

Gabriel stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back. Despite his dirty and exhausted countenance, he seemed a little more like his old self now: composed, authoritative, keenly observant. "Surely demons can be no surprise to you here, poised as you are on the mouth of the Abyss."

"The Abyss? Here? You mean the tunnels?"

"Tunnels?" Brother Gabriel repeated, frowning.

"Yes, one that goes to the... you know, the portal. Which we wrote about to the bishop. With the dark sea beyond it. And the other that leads to the prophetic disc. But we have seen no demons here." He rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "None I know of has ever seen a demon before. May I... may I look upon it?"

Gabriel scowled. "You may, but be wary. It is under my control but it is nonetheless a crafty creature, well-versed in the ways of temptation and corruption. Guard your mind and your soul against its allure." He turned his head toward Tuco. "Step forward, creature."

Tuco stepped out of the stairwell before the binding could force him to, lifting his head to stand tall in the cloister, towering over Gabriel and the other monk. His forked tongue hung from his parted fangs, and he tasted the little man's fear, and then overwhelming lust.

"Oh!" Theodotus murmured, and he hunched forward a little, failing to entirely conceal the sudden rise in the wool of his cassock. "It is... it is remarkable. And certainly alluring, as you said."

Gabriel looked annoyed when Tuco translated these words to him. "Perilously so. And you say you have never seen another demon here?"

"No, none!"

"But-but this holds no water at all. The Abbey was founded-is being founded to study demons and the Abyss, and to prevent the Apocalypse if possible!"

Theodotus's eyes went wide. "Are you certain that I am supposed to know that? That sounds like a jealously guarded secret of the Holy Order! As you say, it must be true, but surely those such as I am not to know of it!"

Gabriel scowled and reached into his robes. He pulled out a piece of parchment and thrust it toward the little monk. Tuco recognized with a sinking in his stomach the ritual that had summoned him. "Do you tell me that you yourself did not write this page?"

Blinking in the candlelight, Brother Theodotus reached out and took the page in one hand, narrowing his eyes as he peered at it. "I shouldn't think so," he answered. "It looks extremely old. But the hand is very like my own. 'Tuco Witchywine.' Who is that?"

"The very devil that stands before you now," Gabriel answered. "Perhaps I am too early. Perhaps you have not written it yet-no, don't translate that, you fool!" he shouted as Tuco, helpless to stop himself, continued on with the mad monk's murmurings.

"Perhaps I-? But this is my name on it!" Theodotus looked up in shock. "How can this be? And these... components. Some sort of spell?" Again he leaned in toward the manuscript to peer at it, holding the candle close. Too close. There came a sudden fizzing spark, and Tuco tasted burning magnesium-a component in many demon summonings. In moments, the entire sheet of parchment was aflame. Brother Theodotus let out a cry of dismay and dropped the parchment to the floor. He stamped at the burning flame, but the frayed fringes of his cassock caught light, and while he busied himself patting out those flames, the rest of the page rapidly burned into a twisted gnarl of blackened parchment.

"What have you done, you fool?" snapped Gabriel.

"Oh! Oh, what a terrible shame!" said Theodotus, staring with a forlorn expression at the burned scrap on the floor. "I don't suppose a copy was made?"

Gabriel hesitated a moment. "I haven't the faintest idea how to answer that question." He chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. "So there truly are no demons?"

The little monk blinked in the candlelight for a moment, using the sole of his sandal to shuffle up burned scraps of parchment. "Well, of course, the scriptures tell us that they surround us constantly, whispering temptations to us."

Tuco rolled his eyes a little at that as he translated.

"Yes, yes." Gabriel waved an impatient hand. "But around you, visibly. Causing changes. Capturable. Being used to create enchantments."

"Heavens! I shouldn't think so! This is a place of worship and study! To involve ourselves with fiendish influences would be utterly against our mission!"

"I am pleased to hear you say so," Gabriel answered, somewhat mollified.

"Would you like to come and sit down? We don't have much at the moment-the supply wagon arrives on Friday-but I daresay I could scrounge up a bottle of wine." Theodotus gave Tuco another uneasy look. "Though I am not certain we could sate your, er, companion-"

"Slave," Gabriel snarled. "A creature soon to be destroyed, which will be my final command to it. I shall order it to obliterate itself."

"How frightful," murmured Brother Theodotus. "And it will obey your every command?"

"It must. Demons are crafty, however, and seek always to turn the words of those who summon them against them. A pure mind is even more susceptible, as they remain innocent to the evils and deceits of the enemy. And to summon a demon at all is to imperil one's soul."

"But you summoned this one?"

"I did, and at terrible risk to myself. But it was worth it, to stop his terrible evil." Gabriel inhaled sharply. "No, I would not care to sit down, but I would like to see the Throat-the, er, tunnel that you discovered."

Dismay settled across Brother Theodotus's round face. "Are you quite certain? The journey is a long one, and the stairs are no easier on the knees than the damp and the chill. Not to mention the return climb..."

"Should we falter, I will instruct my slave to bear us. The journey may not be comfortable, but it should be swift. And in truth, there is no need for you to accompany me. I am quite capable of making the trip on my own." Gabriel turned toward the stairwell, which yawned in the darkness. "Simply give me torches or candles to light my way."

Theodotus hesitated. "I will fetch some candles. I shouldn't care to miss such a trip, even if my joints will not thank me tomorrow."

He hustled away, unthinkingly leaving them standing there in the darkness, though of course Tuco had no difficulty seeing. He wished it were possible for him to creep away, but the binding held him close by. Gabriel stood staring out into the darkness, swaying back and forth as though to a tune only he could hear and muttering under his breath.

After a short time, Theodotus returned with candles for each of them-Tuco refused one when offered-and they made their way down the steps, Tuco leading the way at Gabriel's insistence, his wings folded tightly at his back. The scent of the tunnel tasted different than in Tuco's time: less mold and standing water, and something else was missing as well, some fundamental odor that made the air taste sterile and empty. Other than the stone and stale air, the only other scents were those of the candles and the two monks behind him, one filthy with mud and the stench of going unwashed and unsheltered for days, reeking of vanity and a hunger for vengeance, the other smelling of paraffin and weak ale, with noticeable but not unusual desires for power and wealth.

As they descended, Brother Theodotus peppered Gabriel with questions. Where was his abbey, and where had he studied to learn of demons? What sorts of enchantments could demons perform? How could they be useful? How did one mitigate the risk to one's form and one's soul? What was involved in summoning demons? Could angels be summoned as well? Were there prayers that could defeat or destroy demons? How did one guard against their influences?

He chattered on and on with an indefatigable curiosity, and Gabriel, though clearly impatient and annoyed, could not fend off his questions for long, and Tuco translated his answers, mix of truth and lies as they were, the lies accompanied by involuntary hisses of his tongue that made them sink deep into Theodotus's mind, believed more fervently than any truth.

Partway down, they passed the tunnel that led to the Void, and Tuco noticed that the watchroom he had adopted as his private rooms had no door, and was little more than an errant fork in the passageway. Gabriel paused on the steps behind him as they approached, nodding toward the tunnel. "You have been down that way, yes?"

"To the portal?" Brother Theodotus shivered. "Not I. It was miners who first found this cavern, you know. Looking for silver, it seems. And they found the stairs leading down. Who carved those, no one knows. It's said there is a portal at the end of that tunnel, far larger than could be made by any men, especially down here, where it would be so difficult to bring tools. And through that portal, a dreadful black sea extending to the horizon. No one who explored it ever returned. Except... except one. And he was... honestly, I'd rather not speak of it. Not down here in the dark and the shadow. I realize suddenly that here I am in the dark, with a monstrous demon and a strange priest who does not speak my language."

"I assure you, we will cause you no harm," Gabriel said, and as soon as Tuco spoke the words, the monk visibly relaxed.

"Well, certainly not. But the thought of that door at the end of that tunnel. Who could have fashioned it? The same people who carved out all these stairs? And why? And then... the thought of what happened to the man who came out of that door, well, it sends a chill through my bones and no mistake! If you choose to travel that direction, I'm afraid I shan't follow."

"Nor would I ask you to," Gabriel said with noticeable irritation, "just I did not ask you to follow me down here. Proceed, demon."

And so they traveled on down the steps, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the mountain. Twice the candles burned down to the stick and the men had to replenish them while Tuco stood by, his red eyes glowing in the darkness. When finally they reached the bottom of the tunnel, Brother Theodotus was puffing with exertion and moving rather stiffly, slowing all of them down as they waited for him to manage his footing on the endless stairs. And then, there they were, at the foot of the stairs, and something was different than every other time Tuco had visited before. He puzzled, his tail swaying, wings fanning as he tried to work out how it felt so wrong.

"Where is the light?" Gabriel demanded.

"I don't understand," Brother Theodotus said, patting at his cassock. "Did you want another candle?"

"No, the light, the-" Gabriel waved his arms around at the empty cavern. "The light of the Abyss!"

Only then did Tuco realize what had changed. Before-later, actually, he reminded himself-the cavern at the bottom of the stairs had been flooded with orange-red light welling up from around the cracked edges of the seal. But the cavern here was dark and still. Motes of dust hung in the air, floating in silent tranquility.

Gabriel stepped forward, pushing past him, raising his candlestick aloft. "Impossible!" he murmured, striding into the center of the cavern. He strode around the seal, holding the candle over it, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide and wild. "The seal!" he called back, his voice echoing endlessly up the stairwell. "It is unbroken!"

Theodotus, frowning, tottered his way down the final few steps. "What is this seal you refer to?"

The priest stared at him, bewildered. "The-the seal!" he sputtered, gesturing at the massive stone structure. "The prophetic disc. Do you truly not know what you've uncovered here? This seal covers the mouth of the Abyss, don't you understand? When all four signs have been revealed, the demons of the Abyss will flood the world. The Apocalypse will begin!"

Theodotus blinked owlishly back at the priest. "And you expected this seal to be broken?"

With a trembling hand, Gabriel reached out and brushed his fingers across the stone cap sealing away Pandemonium. "No," he murmured as if to himself, and cast a keen gaze back in Tuco's direction. "No, I did not. But now we can see for ourselves. Finally we will know the first sign, the one that was broken. The Guardian blinded." He lifted the candle higher, squinting in the dim light. "Curse this darkness. Slave! Produce a light bright enough for me to see!"

And Tuco found his focus turning inward, tapping into an energy he hadn't known he had possessed, suddenly aware of it, as one became aware of the blood pumping through one's veins during exertion. A heat, a fire, flowed through him, and without quite knowing how he did so, he channeled it upward through his horns. Firelight bloomed in the room, orange and hellish, and growing brighter, coming from just above him. Brother Theodotus emitted a faint squeak of surprise or fear and scuttled back against the wall. Tuco tilted his head back, looking for the source of light, but it shifted with the motions of his skull, pitching shadows across the room in wild shapes. At the very edge of his peripheral vision, he was just able to see a hot star burning above him, formed, as far as he could tell, between the tips of his horns. It was, he thought, as though the seal to the Abyss had already been broken, and its light spilled through.

He walked to Gabriel's side as the priest leaned over the seal. "What is this?" Gabriel breathed, running his fingers over the surface. "No, it cannot be." His face went drawn and pallid, and he stumbled away from the seal, clutching at his robes. "It is impossible!"

Tuco tried to see what had frightened him so, but the priest staggered into him and yelped in surprise and fear. "Get away from me!" he roared, and Tuco immediately retreated to the wall of the cavern, flattening himself there, trying and straining to see the details of the seal, but from here he could not make them out.

Brother Theodotus was clutching at his cassock, shrunk back against the wall, riveted in fear of Tuco and fear of Gabriel's madness. He fumbled in his robes and withdrew the sign of the Tree, gripping the cruxissima fiercely in his small fist as he began murmuring prayers to the Almighty. Tuco could taste his sudden and terrible desire for safety and power, and he felt an almost irresistible urge to grant it, to ease into the poor frightened monk's form the power to hold back that which terrified him, even to overcome it. And then the monk's soul could be yours as well...

No. That was Sathanus's voice, and now that Tuco knew it, he could silence it. He closed his mind fiercely to the thought, and as he did so, the temptation to use his power fell away as well. Sathanus's being battered in frustration inside his mind, but he held it inside a cage of his own willpower, drawing it down smaller and smaller until he could barely even feel the devil inside.

"I-I will go and summon aid," Brother Theodotus managed, and to his credit managed to scurry up at least thirty steps before his fatigue slowed him, and he began huffing and puffing his way up toward the half-constructed Abbey.

"You!" Gabriel growled. He was staring right at Tuco, and Tuco realized now that although the priest still could not see him, he could see the fire between Tuco's horns and knew exactly where he was. He stalked up to Tuco, the whites visible all around his pupils, threaded with red. Tuco remained flattened against the wall, the spines of his back digging into the stone, his tail curled between his legs.

"It was you the whole time, just as I knew it. You broke the first seal. It was you who released the demons, who caused the outbreak of-of vile changes. You who set the gates of hell ajar! You the whole time, just as I knew! And now... now I will stop you!"

Countless questions danced across Tuco's tongue, but he could not ask them. What do you mean? How could I have broken the seal? We heard no trumpet! There was silence for a moment, the only sounds the roar of fire and the puffing of Theodotus on the stairs. Tuco could only shake his head, slowly. Gabriel must have seen the movement of the firestar between his horns, for he held out one trembling hand, bony finger pointed toward the seal. "Go! Look for yourself! Tell me what you see!"

He stepped aside, allowing Tuco to move forward to the seal. Slowly, Tuco bent forward, dreading what might be carved there. The stone was ancient, crumbling, eroded, but the images were still quite visible. As bidden, he inhaled and then relayed what he saw. "There are two figures. One is-" It could not be, and yet it was. "One is me, as I was. Before my changes. Except with the horns and the-the tongue." And the other figure was even more impossible. "The other figure holds a sword. He is tall and bald, and wearing robes-it is you, Gabriel."

The priest let out a low, shaking sigh, as if relieved to have what he had seen confirmed. "And when did this happen?"

"It was the night you threatened me. The night you attacked me. The night I said-I said..."

"The night you said I couldn't see you. The Guardian blinded."

"But-but that would mean-"

Gabriel drew himself to his full height, his eyes wild again. "That I am the Guardian! And the night that you said that to me, you unleashed the first stages of the Apocalypse!"

But the demons were already here! Tuco wished to protest, and could not. There was no trumpet! The seal had been broken long before!

"It was all fated. It was all here, carved into the very stones of the seal. And this is why the Almighty led me here to the founding of the Abbey!" Gabriel stared down at his left hand, clutching his fingers into a claw, gripping his wrist with his right as though to tear his hand away from his body. "I polluted my hands. I have sullied myself by consorting with fiends. I stained myself in the eyes of the Almighty, but it was all for a greater purpose. It was all to bring me here, to this moment. Here, I can undo what has been done. Here I can ensure the Abbey stays safe and guarded from your vile influence forever!"

He grinned through yellowed teeth. "But you will not have my soul. That I promise you. That, in fact, I command you. Tuco Witchywine, by the enchantment which binds you, I command you to relinquish any claim on my soul."

It doesn't work like that, Tuco thought, but even as he made to protest, he felt the fragment of Gabriel's soul that already belonged to him lift from his Voidsea, a twisting glimmer of light rising up out of the dark waters. Tuco felt for a moment as though he were choking; he gagged, his eyes stretching wide open as the light drooled from his eyes, nose, and throat. It stretched like long strands of glowing, pale honey through the air and sank into Gabriel's chest. The priest gasped as though splashed with cold water, his hands clasping to his bosom, and he cried out.

Tuco gaped in amazement, wiping at his mouth with the back of his arm. He'd no idea such a thing could be done. If this could be repeated, he could give back every soul he'd taken. Pike's, Etreon's, those of all the acolytes and Brothers of the Abbey.

"You must obey even that command," Gabriel breathed in triumph. "My entire soul is my own again, and you shall never have it. And now my second command, Tuco Witchywine." Tuco's name sounded like a bludgeon on his tongue, a hateful thing. "I command you to guard my soul so that no fiend shall ever claim it. Protect it for the Almighty. It belongs only to Him."

This command cost Tuco some power, but only a little-he had time enough to filter out souls from his Voidsea, using only a couple of the most evil to fuel the mad priest's command. Then Tuco lifted his right arm, palm upward, and raised it, and with it, he summoned the stuff of the Abyss itself. With a shuddering that shook the entire cavern, shaking loose stones and dirt from the ceiling, a great stone plinth rose from the floor, fully eight feet in height and four across. It was glossy, shimmering with firelight, and in it, Tuco could see his own image mirrored: That of a powerful, monstrous devil, four red eyes gleaming in the darkness. Above his head, roaring between his six horns, a blazing star of fire, his massive, winged body made of shadow beneath its light. He saw himself again reflected in limbostone.

"Go," he said. "Touch the stone, and your soul shall be preserved by it for eternity. No demon or devil will be able to remove you from it."

Gabriel's eyes glittered in the light of hell. "You had best not be deceiving me, demon."

"I cannot. You have commanded me not to. Your soul will be safe from all of the Abyss in this stone."

Hungrily, the priest strode toward the stone, the ruined, wet tatters of his robes clinging around his skinny calves. He turned, and when he did, the Temptation of the Self poured off of him in such a thick and enticing reek that Tuco felt almost drunk on it. This was a soul that longed to be claimed by the Abyss, one that had plunged so deep into depravity that Tuco's dark heart coveted it. The desire in that soul held so much power. It belonged in his Voidsea. And yet it was a soul he could not claim, that no devil would ever be able to claim. "And now I give you two final commands, Tuco Witchywine." He leered in mad triumph. "Once I touch the stone, you will change me, yes, change me. You will make me the eternal Guardian of Abyssus Abbey and the mouth of the Abyss itself. You will give me the power to see the forces of the Abyss wherever they crawl, slither, climb, or fly. You will give me a voice to alert others, a form powerful enough to defend the walls, a body that can never be destroyed, eyes that watch everywhere. And once you have transformed me into this Guardian, Tuco Witchywine, you will destroy yourself, completely and utterly. You will banish yourself to oblivion, never to return. This I command."

Tuco listened, his heart pounding, his mind racing as he tried to find a way to escape Gabriel's commands, some way to twist his words, some way to circumvent or defy them. He could barely concentrate now, the heady rush of the vanity flooding away from Gabriel dizzying him.

Gabriel drew himself up in triumph. "Say, 'Yes, master.'"

Tuco gritted his fangs. "Yes, Master."

"Thank me. Thank me for destroying the evil that you are."

"Thank you for destroying me."

A satisfied smile spread across Gabriel's twisted face. "And now obey me," he commanded, and he set his hand to the limbostone.

His face drew into a long gape, eyes and mouth both stretching wider and wider in a look of sudden and abject horror. His body gave one small twitch, as though a drop of cold water had just rolled down his spine. And then, like an image appearing in a mirror when a light is struck, there was Gabriel, both inside and outside the stone, standing and touching it, and imprisoned within, fingers pressed to fingers, the same look of horror on both faces.

Gabriel's body snatched back his fingers as though burned, and then he let out a scream of agony and hunched over. "No! No! I need it! I made a mistake! Give it back, give it back!" He hammered on the limbostone with skinny fists. He turned toward Tuco, eyes wild and hollow. "I command you to give it back!"

His command was mere words, empty of force, of will. "You have no soul to command me," Tuco answered in realization.

"No! No!" Gabriel clutched at the limbostone as though he could plunge his body into its surface. But already he had begun to change. The hands raking at the limbostone suddenly grew larger, thickening into huge, leonine paws. Claws dragged down the surface of the stone. Gabriel stumbled backward, his face beginning to change, his visage twisting into something fierce and grotesque, jaws stretching apart as his teeth lengthened into an array of dagger-like fangs, his ears drawing up into points. "What have you done to meeeeeee," he yowled, and his voice stretched higher and higher like the saw of a note being drawn up the strings of a viol. He staggered backward, a pair of wings bursting from his robes, rending the frayed cloth into shreds and revealing legs thickening, growing irregular patterns of scales all over. He fell backward onto the ground with a crunching sound as his toes stretched out, lizardlike, a toe sprouting from each of his heels as though to help him grip onto perches. He kicked his legs as they grew larger and larger, and Tuco saw that he had been unmanned, nothing but scales between them.

Gabriel shrieked again, longer, his voice extending into a wail, a scream, as he rolled over and sat hunched on all fours, his wings huddled against his back as his body grew and settled into the form of a gargoyle, part lion, part lizard. It was a form Tuco had seen many, many times before. And now the color began bleeding away from his body, away from the tawny fur that had sprouted down his neck, chest, and forelimbs, away from the red scales patterning his back and legs, away from the black leather of his wings. It left behind only a stony grey. The earth beneath him compressed and cracked as he gained weight, as his body adopted the hardness of stone. Last were his eyes, still horribly human, wet and wild, before they too went blank and grey, and his scream fell silent. The thing that had been Gabriel sat, staring straight ahead. He had become a Gasen.

And the binding enchantment around Tuco fell away; with great relief, he realized he could speak unbidden again; nor did he feel any compulsion to carry out Gabriel's final order-there was nothing left of the man to compel him. The gargoyle silently moved up to the limbostone containing its soul and began lapping at it with scraping drags of its long tongue.

Vengeance, crowed Sathanus's voice from deep within Tuco's mind. Vengeance is oursI

But Gabriel's change had not yet completed. The Gasen's body shivered and shook, its head jerking from side to side, its limbs making odd, violent spasms. A leg lashed out to one side and then split, forking at the hip into two legs of equal size. An arm stretched wider with the creak of stone against stone and then became two arms. The Gasen's head flailed around like a fish struggling at the end of a line, and then that, too, split into two heads. And then the body seemed to struggle against itself. With a crack of stone, it fell to one side. And the other side. And then there were two Gasen where once there had been one. They dragged themselves to their monstrous feet, swaying back and forth as though dizzy. And then both began to thrash. Within moments, there were four Gasen, each of them going into their own paroxysms. And then eight, their bodies pushing each other across the floor as they duplicated.

Tuco took to wing, hovering over them as what had been one Gasen rapidly became an entire horde of them. He hadn't just transformed Gabriel into one gazer. He'd transformed him into all of them. Every single gargoyle in the entire Abbey had been shaped by him, out of one man, the man most desperate to stop him. He watched them in helpless horror as they filled the cavern, the sounds of cracking and grinding stone a clamor. Those near the passageway began to make their way up the stairs, their stone paws landing in perfect unison, moving as though with one mind, creating a deafening, rhythmic report that sent endless echoes up the passageway toward the Abbey, the sound of some enormous hammer pounding away in the deep.

Tuco could not count how many gargoyles Gabriel became, but it was certainly more than a hundred. In a slow flight, he followed them in their inexorable, tireless march up the stairway, distractedly beating his wings to the pounding of their stone feet. A little ways up the passage, he saw Brother Theodotus. The little monk was clearly terrified, stinking of sweat and fear, and had been trying his best to push his already exhausted body, with its short, fat scholar's frame, up the steps to avoid being trampled by the oncoming horde of gargoyles, but he was at the end of his energy. Tuco hovered low and caught the man up in his hands, clutching him close, nearly losing grip as the monk squirmed like a frightened rabbit. "Easy," he said soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt you. Let's get you to safety."

Theodotus's heart was hammering against Tuco's forearm, and he squirmed a little, but after a moment seemed to trust Tuco as they flew steadily ahead of the army of Gasen. "Tuco Witchywine?" he squeaked between beats of Tuco's wings.

"Yes."

"Thank you. What... what happened to Brother Gabriel?"

"He made a terrible mistake."

"Did you hurt him?"

"No."

"Did those things?"

Tuco paused. "I'm afraid he hurt himself. He... fell." No hiss in his tongue. And Brother Theodotus was silent.

They landed well ahead of the Gasen at the top of the stairs. "Go," Tuco said, setting the little man down on the stone floor. With a mental focus he didn't quite understand, he extinguished the flame hovering above his head. "Warn the others that the gazers are coming."

Brother Theodotus blinked up at him. His robes were soaked in sweat. "Are they dangerous?"

"Not if you stay out of their way. They will be guardians against... what's coming."

"And what is that?" Brother Theodotus asked.

As if in answer, the sound of the marching army below was drowned out by another sound-that of a thunderclap, the splitting of a massive stone from somewhere far, far beneath the abbey. And then cutting through the air, through all other sound as smoothly as a razor cuts through a sunbeam, a trumpet: three short notes and then one long and high. It seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Tuco's ears were still ringing, but he read the words from Brother Theodotus's lips: What was that?

"Go!" he roared, sound returning to him mid-word. "Go and warn everyone! Now! The first seal has been broken!"

Brother Theodotus went white as the moon, lifted his cassock, and scurried down the cloister. Not far behind him came the army of Gasen.

Tuco stood by to let them pass, watching as pairs of them climbed the walls, talons sinking into stone as though it were clay, positioning themselves in the archways and settling into unmoving shapes, their hollow gazes staring downward as they crouched into their permanent vigils. Others marched in pairs up stairs and down hallways, making their ways unerringly toward their positions.

Sadly, Tuco moved to look up at a nearby pair. Are you still in there, Gabriel? Are you aware, awake? Is your mind in torment or are you at peace, knowing you stand guard? He had a sickening feeling that he knew the answer. He remembered now the screams of the Gasen upon sighting demons, and how the Brothers had mollified the creatures-pouring little glittering piles of black stone onto the floor, and how eagerly the Gasen had lapped it up.

Tuco walked underneath the pair of Gasen, and their hollow, stone eyes did not move. You can't see me. You never could.

The Guardian had been blinded.

A prickle moved up Tuco's spine, and he spun with his claws extended, ready for a threat, but there was nothing. Just an odd heat, and the taste of sulfur.

And then, cackling and shrieking in glee, demons began boiling out of the Throat: huge and lumbering, long-legged and spidery, slithering, pounding, clambering across the ceiling and walls as they tasted their first experience of the mortal world.

The Gasen shifted their gazes. And the screams began.

Without hesitation, Tuco bolted for the stairs. He bounded off the far wall, up the next flight to the roof, and took to the skies.

From above, he watched as the mortal world waged its first battle against the demons of the Abyss. The sun set over the partially constructed Abbey as men transformed, and Gasen screamed, and demons were expunged from the world by prayers and incantations of the righteous.

Tuco was free, finally free, of Gabriel's cruel plans. But he had unwittingly broken the first seal and released demons in physical form into the world. And now he was trapped hundreds of years in the past with no way to return home.