FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 7: Confession

Footsteps echoed somewhere down the long hallway, the only other sounds the continual howl of drafts and the faint crackle of candlelight. Tuco shifted on the hard bench and looked up at the coarse wooden door next to him. It had black, wrought-iron hinges and looked as heavy as a tombstone. It didn't move, nor did any sound emanate from its other side. He wondered if anyone was truly there.

It had been a long night of worry and anxious conversations with Pike, and in the morning, he'd gone to find Lord Krastor, only to discover that the door to the library tower was not where he remembered it. Where once there had been a staircase and doorway, now there was only a stone wall and a painting so faded he'd couldn't make out its subject. He wasn't sure if he'd lost his way or if the architecture of the abbey had altered itself again. He'd finally sought out Rigby only to be informed by the clockwork man that Lord Krastor was indisposed and anyway not to be bothered without being invited by another monk. Apparently few met the elusive master of the keep more than once.

So Rigby had led him down the hall past the large refectory to another corridor and sat him on a bench near the end, where he was supposed to meet someone named Brother Gabriel, the Master of Apprentices. Rigby had rapped on the door--a faint sound that didn't seem like it could reach the room on the other side--and had left Tuco there to wait. “However long it takes," he had advised.

Tuco squirmed uncomfortably. The bench was making his backside sore. Surely no one was coming; they couldn't even have heard the knock. Absently, he pulled his cap off to tug at the new horns jutting up from his forehead, rubbing powdery dried blood from around their bases. They protruded longer than his fingers now, curving upward and slightly back, and though he'd tried to keep them covered with his cap, they were a bit too long, and made obvious bulges in the fabric. They didn't feel like something attached to him when he pulled on them, but a part of his skull. A part of him. Like the strangely sharp teeth lining his mouth and the long tongue always pressed up against them.

Since yesterday he'd been afraid to speak to anyone. What if he tempted them into changes as he had poor Charo? As Braxus had predicted, the lark-winged boy had been sent back to his family, wrapped in sterile-washed linens so that the taste of them didn't overwhelm his flesh. Tuco was trying not to think about that. Had he truly transformed the boy? Did he have that power now? He hadn't felt anything, any sense of magic, when talking to him, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. And it didn't mean it couldn't happen again. He didn't dare test it to try. All he'd ever wanted was for Charo to find more enjoyment in simple pleasures. By what power had that twisted into growing taste buds all over his body? Perhaps it was only that he had instilled the temptation and hidden demons had done the rest, but that was scarcely better.

He'd had a long and anxious conversation with Pike that night. Pike swore up and down that even now, Tuco was not dangerous, that his ears would be able to hear if he was. “In fact," he'd declared, “to me you sound like the least dangerous thing here, horns and all, sweet thing." He'd begged Tuco not to go to the Brothers and confess when they didn't even truly know what was happening, but Tuco had not been willing to risk another accident, and so Pike had given him a long, sorrowful hug goodbye and let him go.

The wooden door cracked open with a hollow creak. “You may enter," a deep voice said from within. Relieved, Tuco rose from the hard wooden seat and pulled the door open. It was heavy, and groaned in protest.

The room beyond was bare and dismal, all dark grey stone. Books were arranged along one shelf, and in the back corner, beside a narrow, hard-looking cot, a single rug ornamented the floor, but beyond that, there was no decoration. There was a nightstand next to the bed with a plain, porcelain ewer for water, and spare robes hung from several wall hooks. In the center of the room was an austere wooden desk and behind it sat a man, his elbows planted on it, hands folded. His head was shorn, with no signs of stubble, and he was gaunt of frame, his cheeks hollow, his wide mouth drawn into a perpetual frown. Dark eyes glittered under bushy black eyebrows. “Tuco Witchywine, is it?" he asked.

“Yes, sir." Tuco ventured into the room, which was dark, lit only by several candles. There must have been sconces mounted on the walls at one time, but they had been pulled away--violently, it seemed, as deep scars marred the pale spots where the sconces had once hung. In the place of one, from a simple bracket, hung a sword, its silver blade unsheathed, Latin letters inscribed down its blade.

Brother Gabriel caught his gaze. “There are dangers here. Sometimes we cannot hold back the corrupted with prayer. Sometimes a more immediate solution is called for. You are wondering why I hide here in natural candlelight, no doubt. The answer is a simple one. The light of hellfire is a tarnish upon this abbey. The only true and holy light is that which the Lord grants us. I will not imperil my soul by accepting gifts from demons."

“That's very… pious, sir," Tuco said. He shuffled forward.

“And why do you feel it necessary to disturb the Master of Apprentices? I will warn you," he interrupted Tuco's answer, holding up a hand, “that I do not have the faith in this mission that the other Brothers hold. Consorting with demons, even in the belief that they can be thwarted, is at best misguided, and at worst, heresy. One does not save the world by talking to demons. One saves one's soul by entrusting it only to the Almighty, and trusting Him to preserve the rest as He sees fit. These so-called holy men risk their souls, and worse, are willing to sacrifice the souls of you innocent young men in order to pursue knowledge the Good Lord has not granted us. It is blasphemy, and a great evil, and if I had my way I would have every monk imprisoned, burn every tome in the abbey, and then raze it to the ground and call upon the Chantry to sanctify the broken stones." He leaned back in his chair. “Alas, the Pontiff has seen fit to allow this accursed mission to continue, and has thus far declined my petitions to have it terminated, or at least to have me reassigned. So here we are." He gave Tuco a thin, humorless smile. “So then. What is it you wished to see me about?"

“Do you--do you give that speech to all the apprentices who come to see you, sir?"

Brother Gabriel's smile soured. “I do. I believe it important that all who come to see me understand my position. I will not aid the Brothers of this abbey in their mission. But I will do what I can to protect those souls still innocent from perversion and destruction. I daresay I have some experience in this matter. Twelve years so far my appointment--nay, my sentence--here has lasted, and see you one hint of a change upon me? None. No demon can tempt me nor sway me, for I fortify my mind and soul hourly with prayers to the Almighty. It is the Lord who has preserved me, and you may see the proof of it upon my flesh." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “So what of you, Apprentice Tuco? I see that you are new to us. Have you so far escaped temptation?"

Miserably, Tuco pulled his cap from his head, revealing the horns curling upward.

Brother Gabriel did not gasp. A resigned weariness settled into his expression. “Ah. So soon."

“But Brother Gabriel, something else happened to me. My… my changes started before I was ever tempted. I mean, a demon did call to me in the washroom, but I didn't answer. I think it was the ritual, sir. Surely Lord Krastor told you about it?"

“Lord Krastor…" The man's mouth twisted as though he had tasted something unpleasant. “Lord Krastor has neither the time nor the attention to monitor every single ritual performed at the abbey, much less inform me. But it is of little surprise to me that that is where you fell to the demons."

“But I didn't, sir. Only that's where Brother Melvin—"

Brother Gabriel straightened up sharply, his dark eyes glittering. “What of Brother Melvin? Have you seen him?"

Belatedly, Tuco remembered that he had been instructed by Lord Krastor not to speak of the ritual or what had happened, an edict he'd failed miserably so far, but he'd never thought someone as highly ranked as Brother Gabriel wouldn't know of it. “No sir," he stammered. “But something happened during that ritual. It changed me. There was all this fire everywhere, and then I passed out, and when I woke up, sir, I… my tongue, it… changed, and I could lie to people and they would believe me."

The gaunt monk narrowed his eyes and leaned across his desk on both elbows. “The forked tongue, you say? Let me see." He drew in a sharp hiss of breath when Tuco revealed a short length of black and bifurcated tongue.

“But that isn't all, sir. I saw a devil. He--he called himself Belzebub. He forced me to eat. I couldn't control myself. That's when my teeth changed. And then--then, sir, I think I tempted another apprentice. Not on purpose! But I was just talking about the food and then… then… sir?"

He trailed off, for Brother Gabriel had risen from his chair, the blood draining from his face. “What was that? What name did you say?"

“Belzebub."

The monk's cheeks shook, and he reached for the rosary lying on his cot. “Tell me you are lying about this, boy. Tell me it's all a game." He wrapped the rosary around his rough fingers and held upward the cruximissa, the sign of the tree. He thrust it toward Tuco. “Tell me!" Tuco flinched back, but only because for a moment he thought the man was going to hit him.

Brother Gabriel, however, seemed to take this as a sign. “What's the matter, boy? Don't like the look of it?" There was a strange glint in his eyes, though Tuco could not decide if it was madness or religious fervor.

“No, I-- I'm just fine with it, sir. I respect the tree." And he bowed his head before the rosary to demonstrate. Although, he thought, if I had been murdered painfully on something, I doubt I'd care very much for people waving tiny copies of it in my face all the time. He felt the cool metal of the cruximissa pressed to his forehead, and waited before lifting his head.

Brother Gabriel relaxed, settling back into his chair. “Then you have not been corrupted. You could not have passed beneath the Gasen. And the other Brothers' sin-stones would surely warn them. I, of course, use no such device. Enchantments are wrought by demons and devils, and we pollute ourselves by communing with them. This devil, this thing that called itself Belzebub--you are not lying to me about it?"

“No, sir. He… he called me an imp. That's why I thought--"

“Were it truly a devil, have no doubt it would have lied to you. Perhaps even about its own name. What else did it say to you?"

“I'm certain it will seem a fabrication, sir. It sounds so now upon my recollection."

“Surely you did not wait outside my door not to tell me what happened? Either explain yourself or leave me be and do not interrupt me further."

Tuco noticed that despite the monk's now-calm demeanour, he kept that rosary wrapped so tightly around his fingers that the skin was white. Uneasily, he recounted what had happened in the refectory, taking care to be honest and spare no detail. Brother Gabriel listened, staring to one side with an unreadable expression, but his one hand gripped the rosary more and more tightly.

“And you swear to me that all of this is true?"

“I will swear it on the cruximissa if you like, sir."

“And yet no evidence remains of your tale. The tables, supposedly broken, are now undamaged. No food remains spilt on the floor, no dishes are broken, every trace of this so-called feast vanished. And this prodigious increase in size and fat that you report--that, too, unverifiable. You remain unchanged by this experience."

Tuco grimaced, showing the array of thick, white fangs that felt too huge for his mouth. “But for my teeth, sir."

“Which could have been altered by a demonic temptation. So what should I believe here, boy? That you were tempted and changed, perhaps given visions by a demon during the course? Or this fantastical tale which involves great and terrible transfiguration at the end of which you consumed a fallen angel?"

“Sir, what motive could I have to lie to you about this? I came to you because I feared for the Abbey. If…" Tuco took a deep breath. He could not know the fate that awaited him should the monk believe him. Would he be locked away in the Throat? Or worse, subjected some ritual that would banish his demonic body to the Abyss? Would he ever see Pike again? Or his family? Would he be forever barred from Elysium? “If I have become a demon somehow, then everyone else should be protected from me."

Brother Gabriel peered at him. “Yes. Yes, they should. But we mortal sons of the Almighty cannot become demons anymore than we can become angels. We are made of different stuff than they. We have immortal souls, and they do not. Can you offer me any proof of your tale? Any at all, other than the changes you have manifested?"

Tuco thought a moment. “Well, sir, as I mentioned, if I… test the air with my tongue, there are things I can tell about other people. Their desire, sir. If you would not find it impudent, I could try it with you."

Wariness hooded Brother Gabriel's eyes. “I have endeavored my whole life, with the guidance and blessings of the Almighty, to rid myself of desires and temptations. If you taste nothing at all, will it prove or disprove your claims? Still, you may indulge this whim if you think you can detect something. Perhaps you might tell me what you taste of your own desires."

“Never tasted my own, sir," Tuco said, and then recalled what his tongue had been wrapped around earlier. “Uh, literally speaking, I mean." Shyly, he opened his mouth and let his tongue slide out into the open air. It undulated slowly as it extended, dripping. He still couldn't tell where it was coming from, how all of it fit into his mouth. Brother Gabriel leaned back with an expression of disgust.

Breathing in, Tuco tasted the air. For a moment he thought there was nothing--just the scent of a dusty old stone room mixed with the scents of dry paper and ink and filled with the smell of candle flame and lingering incense. He breathed in again, searching for some sign of temptation, of corruption. Everyone had it, everyone. He searched through the scents in the air and then withdrew his tongue.

“You're a remarkable man, Brother Gabriel. I do not know how you do it. How you live in this remote place and never hunger for a taste of home or the embrace of arms around you. You didn't come here for an easy life, and you certainly found no safety in this fell place. You don't… I don't think you fit in here, do you? You talked about how different you are than the other Brothers. But that doesn't trouble you. You don't wish for beauty or power or position. You crave neither wealth nor revenge. I don't understand how you could have banished all these desires from your heart. It is truly admirable."

The monk eased back in his chair, his grip around his rosary softening. Tuco could actually see the pink of blood pulsing back into his fingers. “It is only through the Lord our God that we find--"

“But," Tuco continued, “there is something, sir."

“Go on." Brother Gabriel attempted a smile with his mouth, but his cheeks were frozen.

“Vanity, sir. I taste it on you like rain on spring air. You're proud that you have overcome temptation, and you say the credit belongs to the Almighty, but you're pleased all the same. You want to be a man of virtue, sir. You want it so much. You want the Almighty to smile down on you and think of you as one of his favorites."

The smile slowly melted off the man's face as Tuco spoke. “And to your mind, wishing to be a good person is a temptation?"

“It's the Temptation of Self, isn't it? To become greater than others? Even if that greatness comes through holiness?" Tuco looked down at his hands. “To be honest, I never really understood that one. If the Almighty loves us, can it be wrong to love ourselves? And you, sir, who have denied yourself so much pleasure over your life, you must have something to pull you on, some small personal reward. If doing good deeds and resisting temptation means you can't even feel good about yourself sometimes, why, I don't know that any of us could manage it."

Brother Gabriel stammered, “The--the love of the Almighty is what drives the devout to serve Him."

“That may be, sir, but I taste something more. You long to be a good person, to be seen as a good person. You dream of personally smiting a great blow against evil, I think."

The man rose from his chair and stumbled backward, his whole face going pale. “How can you know these things?"

Tuco sighed. “I told you. I can taste it. But I swear to you that the taste was so faint at first I thought there was nothing. I think it's all right to be a little proud. You are a holy and pious man, and if pleasure at your service to the Almighty drives you on, then I say let it. Let it make you a better warrior against evil. The world will need people like that if the Apocalypse is truly coming. It will need people like you, who have made themselves strong, giants among the others… sir?"

He trailed off, for Brother Gabriel's eyes had begun rolling. The monk held up the rosary again, his arm shaking. “Sanguis Christi," he breathed. “I can actually feel the change. The temptation beginning to alter me! You have corrupted me, you… you… demon!" He shook the cruximissa in the air, but at arm's length, as though Tuco were a serpent who might strike at him. “I knew it would happen one day. How have you deceived us? How have you managed to evade the Gasen?"

“I--I don't know, but I swear I'm not deceiving you. I'm telling you the truth. I'm afraid something might be wrong with me. That's why I'm here. To do the right thing."

Brother Gabriel lurched forward, jamming the cruximissa into Tuco's face, bearing it down against his forehead. Tuco fell backward in his chair as he scrambled to get away. “Vade retro, daemon! Go back to the Abyss that spawned you!"

Tears of terror running down his cheeks, Tuco crawled back along the stones. “I came to you for help! Please, there must be some ritual or prayer that can take this out of me. An exorcism, perhaps! Like the boy in the hall, you can--you can force it out of me." He faltered, remembering the boy's broken arm, but if an exorcism could save him…

“No," Brother Gabriel growled. Trembling, he strode to the bracket where the rune-inscribed sword hung. He hefted it from the wall and spun it, wielding it in two hands. “No, there is only one recourse for creatures like you. You, who would take a man's piety and pervert it, try to turn it into sin! It was me you came here for, wasn't it? Tell the truth, if you can with that serpent's tongue! You came here to destroy God's instrument, his sole bulwark against the forces of evil in this place!"

The weapon held in both hands, point swinging low, he advanced on Tuco. Tuco retreated backward on hands and heels until he found himself up against the wall.

“Admit your allegiance with Sathanus, and I will make your execution swift." Brother Gabriel's eyes were lit with a kind of fever. The silvery edge of the sword seemed to hum, reflecting candlelight, the tip grazing Tuco's throat. “Admit it! In nomine dei, confitere!"

For a moment, Tuco could not speak. His throat was locked, his heart frozen. The lines around Brother Gabriel's mouth hardened. “N--no," Tuco managed. “I don't serve Sathanus! He's terrifying! And besides, he's dead, I--I saw him die."

“Not even a good lie," Brother Gabriel muttered in a disappointed voice, and he raised the sword with both hands. The edge gleamed like holy fire. Then he swung down toward Tuco's throat. Terrified, Tuco flung himself to one side, the sword edge shedding sparks as it scraped across the stones.

“You will not avail yourself, demon!" Brother Gabriel shouted, lifting the blade over his right shoulder. He brought it down in a brutal arc, bellowing, “Vade retro!" His cry echoed down the corridor.

Tuco barely managed to scramble out of the way of the blow. He got to his feet and scurried around the side of the monk's desk, trying to keep the furniture between them. Brother Gabriel advanced, his mouth a hard, determined line, his eyes lit with righteous fire. “In the name of the Almighty, I will destroy you and all those who imperil mortal souls with their wickedness." He feinted to the left and then swept the sword to the right, sweeping books off the desk. An inkwell fell to the floor with a clink and rolled in an arc, drawing a smile of black across the stones.

Tuco tried to seize the moment and run around the table to the left, but Brother Gabriel was too quick for him, the edge of the sword snagging on Tuco's tunic. He threw himself backward, out of the way of the swipe, fell half to his knees and ran to the other side of the room, but there was nowhere for him to go. He climbed up on the monk's hard, rough cot, flattening himself against the wall.

“Now I have you." Brother Gabriel kicked his desk chair out of the way, striding toward Tuco, his sword raised to his shoulder for a lunge. “You filth. You corrupted me. Started to change me. There can be no mercy or grace for creatures such as you. Now, die!"

“You can't sssee me!" Tuco screamed. The sword faltered halfway to his belly.

The monk stumbled back a step, his brow furrowing. “What devilry is this?" He stared at Tuco in naked confusion. “The image of the creature is here, but no, no, you speak truly. I cannot see you. Only this… decoy."

His heart slamming against his chest, Tuco slid along the wall, away from the wicked point of the sword. “Everything I told you today was jussst a… a ssstory. The other boysss, they made me go and tell you. It wasss a dare. I didn't know it would anger you so much." His tongue flicked into the room of its own accord, and now he could taste more desires than before: a new hunger, one for safety above all, and lurking behind that one, a nascent lust for power. Had he awoken those in this holy man?

Brother Gabriel backed away, swinging the sword back and forth as though he hoped to strike an unseen foe. “Yes, of course it was lies. I knew it. But you still came here to tempt me."

“I didn't tempt you. You did it yourssself." Guilt panged at his stomach for that one, but what else was he to say? Brother Gabriel was set on executing him.

“I did," the man moaned. “My vices, so deep that I could not admit them to myself. They shame me. I am shamed that you saw them."

Tuco stepped off the cot and moved toward the door, sliding along the wall, his mind scrambling for anything he could say that would get him all the way out of this situation. “No, I didn't sssee them. I never came to visssit you. I wasss never here."

At that, something broke in Brother Gabriel's face. His shoulders went slack, and he let the sword fall to the floor with a ringing clatter. “No, of course. No one was here. You saw no one. Spoke to no one. Gabriel, you fool. You have been railing at visions... just visions." He muttered, as if to himself. “Perhaps they were were right, what they said about you. Perhaps… perhaps you are truly mad." He cast furtive glances toward Tuco, as if trying to confirm that the vision was still there. “Mad and… and dangerous?" His jaw set. “But… but no. If visions they be, then surely they are sent by the Almighty. Surely it is He who chastises you for your pride, but why? Only to spur you into greater piety. To draw you closer to His eternal bosom. Yes. I will redouble my efforts. Whatever this Tuco vision might have been, I will seek out the evil in this place. I will root it out and destroy it. Does not God himself will it?"

Tuco fled the room while he had his chance. The last thing he saw was Brother Gabriel sinking to his knees by the rude cot, his face beading with sweat, trembling in religious fervor.

---

Moss blanketed the roof of the abbey. Tuco followed Pike across the flat stones that rose from the soft green like little islands. “You're sure we're allowed to be up here?" The wind whipped at his robe, and he pulled it more tightly around his tunic.

The rabbit shrugged lean shoulders. “It's not forbidden. Just ill-advised. The winds up here can be dangerous, and it's often storming." He squinted at the sky. Patches of blue swam through the clouds. “But I come up here sometimes, on nice days like this one."

“Aren't you cold?"

“Fur, remember? I distinctly remember wishing to be warm when this happened to me."

Tuco frowned, thinking. “Temptation of Belonging, maybe? Ease?"

“Probably. And safety. Hence the ears that can hear peril." Pike sauntered up to the edge of the roof next a crenellation and leaned forward on his elbows, staring down the mountainside. “This place sounds no more dangerous than anywhere inside, if you were wondering. A little less so, at least on clear days."

Tuco followed him up to the edge and felt a lurch of vertigo. He'd never much liked heights, but he'd never seen a view like this one. “It's like the whole world is in front of us," he breathed. The dark, silty-grey slopes of the mountainside spread out in every direction, meeting brilliant green partway down and opening up into a wide, flat world of plains interspersed with little copses of forest, cut here and there by the silvery gleam of a river.

“It is," Pike said, and folded his ears back. “But not for us, Tuco. We don't go back down there. For us, it's just a view. A dream."

“But we're allowed to leave whenever we want. We could even be sent home if our hands or our voices change too much."

“Or our minds," Pike said. “Maybe you could get away with it, if you left now. Find a carpenter to saw off those horns you've got there. Try to keep your teeth concealed when you speak. You might get away with it for a while. But I can never go. Trust me. I tried, once. Back after I first Changed." He grimaced. “It's not a kind world for people like us. It doesn't matter that we didn't do anything to earn it, or that most of those grubbers out there wouldn't last five minutes before some demon offered them gold and turned them into something awful. The people down there feel better if there's a them. Folks to make them all feel like they have something important in common. There's always a them, Tuco, and that's us. You and me."

Tuco thought about sawing off his horns and winced. He reached up to tug at them again. The ribbed curves nestled in his grip. They felt a part of his skull, a part of him. And here, sure, people might notice your changes or tease you about them, but everyone had them. “I didn't feel that way when I was Unchanged."

Pike turned to him, smiling. “No, but you're not like anyone else."

“Is that why you wanted me when I was Unchanged so much? Because of--of how you were treated out there?"

“Sweet boy, I wanted you because you were comely and kind and shy and frankly delicious. But… but yes. It felt nice, for once. Like I was still normal."

“Nothing special about being normal," Tuco pointed out.

“True, true. But one can't help longing for what's lost." Pike turned his gaze back out to the horizon, to the glitter of a city huddled against the sky. “So, Brother Gabriel tried to kill you, did he? I've always thought him a bit mad."

“I don't think he's mad. Just… very pious. And afraid. I think his piety makes him lonely."

Pike spat over the edge of the roof. “He was lonely before he was pious, mark my words. Piety is just another word for misanthropy."

“You think he hates mankind? Perhaps he just hates the sin within us."

“It amazes me that you still think there's a difference."

“I tasted almost no desire on him."

Pike winced. “I do wish you would find another way to phrase that. But that's my point. He had almost no desire, and he couldn't see your humanity. He tried to kill you. How can you love people when you don't understand what moves them? It's like saying you love sailboats but you hate the wind."

“I think I might have done something terrible to him. I had to lie to him or he'd have killed me. I told him he couldn't see me, that I hadn't even come to visit. And--and he acted a bit mad after that."

“After that? You mean after he came at you with a sword he acted mad?"

“Well, differently mad, then. I think I damaged his relationship with reality."

Pike snorted at that but said nothing.

“And there were more desires in him after that, too. Pike, I feel so terrible about what I've done. To Charo, to him, to--"

“Stop," Pike said sharply. “Just stop it. The man tried to kill you for your honesty, and you feel bad? These guilts and shames don't belong to you. And if you take them on yourself, you'll twist yourself up. The demons will use that. You'll start wishing you belonged, wishing you were blameless, wishing you were loved, that you were--"

“Holy," Tuco said, suddenly understanding. “Just like Brother Gabriel."

“I think something special is happening with you, Tuco. I don't know what it is, but I'm not afraid of it. Whatever you are, you may look like a demon, you may have strange abilities, but I hear no danger from you. I trust you. And if you start to stray, if you ever begin to sound dangerous, I promise to tell you. But we have to hide this from the monks now. The Brothers don't take corruption lightly. There are worse things than the edge of a blade. I want you to promise me you won't go to talk to them again about any of this."

“But they--they're holy men, and they know so much more about demons and devils than we do. What if I'm risking everyone, what if I'm corrupted by a devil and--"

“Tuco, please. Let the Almighty guide them. They don't need you to do it, especially if you're corrupted by a devil, do they?" He sighed and put his paws on Tuco's shoulders. “Trust me, my friend. Trust the person who cares about you more than he cares about an abbey or an Apocalypse."

Tuco stared into Pike's large, brown eyes. “I do trust you."

The rabbit smiled, whiskers twitching. “No hiss. Guess that means I believe you." He leaned down and pressed his lips to Tuco's, closing his eyes.

Tuco stepped into the warmth of Pike's fur, kissing back. Pike folded arms around him, half-hefting him up, and he wished he weren't quite so much shorter than the rabbit. He parted his lips to gasp for a breath and then kissed back more firmly, sliding his arms around Pike's lean waist. In his robes he felt his erection rise, quick and eager, his tip bumping against the fabric. He kissed hungrily at Pike's upper lip, nipped the lower. He dared a lick, and the taste of the rabbit's desire hit him with the intensity of strong spirits and hot spices. He could taste what Pike wanted, and so gave it to him: he slipped his tongue between Pike's teeth and into the back of his mouth, licking across the other's tongue and teeth… and then it just kept going, wriggling as if to plunge down the rabbit's throat.

Pike made a choking sound and broke away from the kiss, stepping back to leave Tuco's tongue wagging in the air, saliva dripping from the two points. “Whoa, easy there, guy."

Tuco just gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “I can taste you. You want me so much right now. You're full of desire."

The rabbit's eyes went a little wider, and his cock slid from its sheath into the cold mountain air as if summoned. “Well then, you'd better deliver me from evil." He took Tuco's robe and pulled it open. The breeze made Tuco shiver, and so the rabbit led him to a softer place in the moss, covered it with the robe, and drew Tuco down on it and pulled him into his warm fur. Tuco held tightly, arms around Pike's chest, nestling into that softness and warmth as closely as he could and kissing Pike again, across the mouth, the jaw, down his neck and into the thick fur of his chest. His hips ground as if of their own, running his needy tip through the exquisite softness carpeting Pike's belly, and he shuddered, feeling already ready to release.

“Yes," Pike growled into one ear, his long whiskers dancing across Tuco's bare skin. “I know I'm soft, but let's do something else with that, hmm?" He pulled the robe around Tuco to keep him warm and then slid down, his breath hot and damp against Tuco's chest, then his belly, and then he found Tuco's erection and panted softly against it, his eartips grazing Tuco's shoulder.

“What do we have here?" he whispered, and the brush of his lips and the softness of his fur made Tuco's cock ache and strain. “A droplet." A hot tongue dabbed at Tuco's tip, making him groan between his teeth. He tried to push his hips toward Pike; his tongue curled in the air and he knew Pike desired the taste of him… but also the pleasure of teasing, and the rabbit dragged clawed fingers lightly down Tuco's sides, making him squirm before holding him in place. “Let us see if we cannot coax more out of you."

Warmth engulfed Tuco's cock. Pleasure exploded in his hips and he let out a little fluttery, overwhelmed cry, his back arching. He found the rabbit's head and gripped into the fur behind his ears with both hands. Pike made a little grunt of surprise and swallowed repeatedly around Tuco's erection. Then he drew back with a satisfied lick of his lips and said, “We can."

Tuco wanted more, ached to have his erection plunged from the chill air back into Pike's soft mouth again, but he wanted something else, too. “Pike?" he panted.

“Yes, sweet demon boy?"

He felt the heat of a flush at that, but steeled up his courage. “Can--can I try, too?"

The rabbit was quiet against his belly for a moment, but Tuco could taste his excitement in the air. He then got up quickly and turned so that he lay with his own slick tip near Tuco's nose. “Show me what you can do with that tongue of yours." His fingertips grazed over Tuco's sac with the lightest of touches, making Tuco shiver and groan. He curled his paw around Tuco's shaft and planted suckling kisses on the end of it, licking across the tip as though it were a sweet.

Tuco tried to ignore the overwhelming sensations enough to focus on Pike. The rabbit's erection was enormous, nearly a foot in length, veined and bulging toward the middle. Tuco's tongue slid out and settled against the hot flesh where it met the furred sheath. Pike tasted of musk and salt and unmitigated lust. Tuco dragged his tongue up the length, running the shaft between his forked tips, and Pike's lean side tensed hard under his fingertips. Then he kissed the tip, imitating the teasing kisses on his own cock, the slippery flavor of Pike's arousal smearing his lips. His tongue extended again, but this time he curled it in a loop, encircling Pike's cock, and kept sliding forward, coiling around and around the organ like a serpent around a tree limb.

Pike let out a loud, startled moan, his hips giving a little spasm, his tip wetting with pre again, but Tuco wasn't finished. His devil's tongue could taste just when Pike desired him to use more pressure, just when to pause, just when to squeeze with it or kiss again to hold him in moments of ecstasy. His tongue entwined all the way around Pike's shaft to the very base, and then encircled the rabbit's soft-furred sac. Pike twitched in his arms and made small kicks, gasping around Tuco's cock. He was riding the edge of climax, but he didn't desire to climax yet, and Tuco didn't want to let him, so he held still, letting Pike ride out the wave of ecstasy.

“Oh no you don't, you won't make me come before you," Pike growled, and he gripped Tuco's hips in both paws, swallowing Tuco's length into the back of his throat and rocking him with an almost blinding wave of pleasure. Tuco almost released in that instant, but he staved off the climax by turning his attention back to Pike--if that was how it was going to go, he could taste just how to spur the rabbit to completion. His tongue slid around and around Pike's shaft, over his sac, wriggling between his thighs to lick up the cleft of his rump, over the quivering flesh there.

Pike's entire body convulsed. He let out three ragged, somewhat muffled cries, and then his cock flexed hard within Tuco's lingual grip, his hips jerking as his seed made hot, thick splashes across Tuco's cheek, his chin, into his open mouth.

It was the thrill of giving Pike pleasure that tipped Tuco into his own orgasm; he felt the hot syrup of it flood around his cock in Pike's mouth, and for a moment the two of them lay there, clinging to each other's twitching bodies, tasting each other's pleasure.

And then it was over, and they were lying in each other's arms, breathing in the lingering scents of each other as their body heat was gradually stolen away by the cooling evening.

“That was incredible," Pike told him between panting breaths. “I mean, nearly all sex is good, but I've never… I mean no one has ever… it was like you know just what to do."

“I did," Tuco said, licking his lips meaningfully. “I could… I could always tell just what you wanted."

Pike stared at him with new appreciation. “Forget devils, that tongue of yours is a gift of the Almighty. Nothing evil could bring anyone that much joy." He looked down at his still jutting erection. “I don't suppose you could do it again?"

“I would enjoy that, but, uh, not just now. I'm a little spent… I think," Tuco admitted.

“Well, we can't all have a rabbit's stamina, I suppose." Pike helped Tuco shrug back into his robes and then peered at his forehead. “Did your horns… get longer?"

---

The following days passed with little of note. Tuco found his horns had grown at some point by several inches more, but in the coming weeks they didn't change further and he began to hope that whatever the ritual might have done to him, its effects on him had completed. It seemed that the demons in Abyssus Abbey had gone quiet. No apprentices suffered any further changes even though the Brothers called nearly a dozen of them to participate in small rituals. Even Tuco was conscripted into assisting with one, lighting candles and reciting an incantation while the Brother sacrificed several brightly colored birds and called up a creature that spoke in a strange and guttural language from a cloud of black smoke.

Tuco fell into a comfortable routine. He rose at dawn, clad himself in robes or tunic depending on his mood and the chill in the air, ate breakfast with the other apprentices, and attended class. He found, to his surprise, that he was something of a scholar. He enjoyed the reading lessons, and by the end of the fortnight could slowly sound out simple sentences. It was a thrill to see the meanings behind symbols unfold themselves for him, revealing their secrets. Ritual, too, he found fascinating, with a strange kind of dream-logic to it. Of course a demon of lust would respond to an incense made of spring flowers, whereas a demon of wealth would answer to the burning of spices. It seemed intuitive that demons answering a temptation of belonging would be called by the sacrifice of a gift from an enemy, whereas those answering vengeance would demand a gift from a friend. He took less well to writing. Interpreting letters and recreating them were different skills, and try as he might, he could never recreate the symbols on his slate to the satisfaction of the Brothers.

Most of the Brothers had begun to treat Tuco with a wary distrust. He was unsure whether his horns and fangs seemed to them signs of the infernal, or whether perhaps it was just his imagination, but once he caught two of them talking about him. One nodded pointedly in his direction, and he was sure he overheard the name, “Brother Gabriel." He'd convinced the severe monk that he'd never come to see him, but the Master of Apprentices knew his name and now believed their encounter had been a divine vision. Perhaps he'd told the other monks to watch out for Tuco. He did appear at Mass every evening, but never seemed to notice Tuco, eyes sliding right past him as though unable to see him, though often after this happened the monk would make a worried frown and shake his head.

Lord Krastor apparently never came to Mass anyway, wishing to conceal his monstrous figure from everyone, but there were rumors among the other apprentices that he had left the Abbey, perhaps for good. It was Rigby who normally carried Lord Krastor's meals from the large refectory to the library tower, and those familiar with his routine swore up and down that Rigby had been making no such deliveries. When Tuco asked him about it, Rigby only made a controlled swivel of his head and told him that the activities of the Brothers were not of concern to the apprentices.

Afternoons were spent in further study or in socialization with the other apprentices. Tuco had begun to get along with them in general. Three in particular he began to develop a friendship with: Hhalbor, an older apprentice with huge stag's antlers and a back covered with porcupine quills; Etreon, a cheerful lad who shed his skin every morning and emerged a different color and texture each time; and Lazuli, who claimed he had once been a skilled swordfighter, but whose body was now encased in a black carapace like that of a lobster. All of them had grown up in poor villages and all were sending their stipends back home to their families, and so Tuco found a kind of kinship with them. They weren't always receptive to his fascination with the advantages their changes had given them, but neither did they tease him about his goatish horns, even when they poked up out of his hood or got caught and tore his clothes when he was changing, nor his mouthful of fangs, even though these made him speak a bit clumsily. At the very least, they weren't unkind, and he found himself practicing his reading or playing games or sport with them many of the afternoons.

Most days, though, he took at least a break to find a quiet place to be with Pike, and it was a rare afternoon that they didn't share a stolen moment of pleasure. For a few nights, they'd tried sharing the warmth of a bed together, but Tuco's libido could not match Pike's, and after a few nights in a row of the rabbit-man continually waking him up with unconscious but lustful thrusts, they'd reluctantly agreed that sleeping in their own bunks would be preferred. The days were sometimes long and dull, and Tuco missed his home and his family and the sight of the sun. But he began to feel safe and somewhat comfortable, the food was always delicious, and every moment spent with Pike was as warm and rejuvenating as an afternoon sunbeam, and so, with each day, the Abbey began to feel more and more like a home.

Still, many of the apprentices were surly or downright dangerous, especially Walstein, and Tuco took to avoiding them whenever possible. But he and Walstein were both in the early reading class together, and the instructing monks seemed to take an almost pernicious pleasure in giving them assignments together.

One afternoon, Walstein had joined the class already fuming, and when he'd struggled to read the names of several of the higher order devils, Rigby had turned the question to Tuco, who had managed to answer it successfully. In fairness, “Mephastophilis" was a difficult name, and Tuco had been trying to learn more in case he found out something about what had happened to him.

“Of course the devil boy would get that one," Walstein sneered. “Probably the name of his father from the Abyss."

“I'm not a devil!" Tuco shouted back, flushing hotly. He knew it was a mistake to show Walstein any reaction, but he'd been putting up with the apprentice's jeers and jabs for a fortnight, and each time, his patience cracked a little further. “And my father's name is Rodger."

Walstein leered, drool running from around his tusks. “Is that because his devil husband takes him from behind?"

Rigby tapped his lecture baton on his podium. “That will be enough of that, Walstein. We're all here for the same reason: to try to help and stop the Apocalypse. Personal attacks will not advance that goal."

“They might if we're attacking a devil. Haven't the rest of you noticed what's going on with him? He got Charo sent home, you know. You all know it was him."

“I--" Tuco tried to search for words that were safe to speak. If he said he was sorry about what happened, that would sound like an admission of guilt. If he denied he was responsible, that might be a lie. He might hiss, and in its own way that felt worse. Clouding the truth from everyone felt like another step down a path that led into the Abyss. He didn't know how to answer. So instead he just stared down at his slate.

“You see? He don't even deny it."

“That is enough, Walstein." Rigby frowned at the apprentice until he slumped back into his seat. But throughout the entire lesson, Walstein fixed a mean, piggy glare on Tuco.

When Rigby dismissed the group, Tuco scrambled to get his things together to try and hurry out of the room and avoid Walstein, but the large man was already standing by his desk when he rose. Tuco didn't meet his gaze. “Sorry, I just need to get by," he said toward the floor and tried to step around Walstein, but the apprentice slapped at his hands and sent his slate skittering across the floor to the wall, where it broke into three pieces.

“Maybe next time don't show off how much you know about devils, huh? You trying to make the rest of us look bad? I mean, I mean good? 'Cause that's a wicked thing to know, isn't it? Isn't it, devil boy?"

“I just read the word," Tuco mumbled.

“Remembered, more like. From all your devil friends."

“The horns aren't my fault! Leave me alone, please!"

“Leave you alone, huh? Like you left Charo alone? Everyone knows that was you what done it to him. Didn't like him much so you turned him into a freak and got him sent home, didn't you?"

Walstein planted a hand on Tuco's chest and shoved hard, sending him sprawling across the floor. He hit the heels of his hands, scraping them badly, and his head bounced off the stone once, making his vision blurry. No one in the room was stepping in; everyone else was just standing around, watching. He struggled, trying to get to his feet, but he felt weak and uncoordinated after the blow to his head. And Walstein stepped over him.

“You gonna do me now, devil boy? Gonna turn me into something and get me sent home?"

“Is--is that what you want?" Tuco asked, curiosity lighting through the fog in his mind. He was seized with the urge to taste the air and know what it was that drove Walstein, what he wanted, what mad desire propelled him toward this cruelty and rage. But he didn't dare show a forked tongue in a room full of apprentices who already suspected him of being a devil. And what would he do once he found that out? What if it had truly been his words that had twisted Charo's form? Could he do the same to Walstein? Would he, accidentally?

Walstein dropped to his knees over Tuco, cocking a fist the size of Tuco's head in the air. “What did you say to me?" he growled.

“N-no, I just meant… do you want to go home? You seem unhappy."

Fury broke in Walstein's face like a storm. “You think you know me? You think you know my life? Fuck thee, devil boy, and may the Almighty damn thy family." His fist shook in the air for a moment as though he was trying to hold it back, and then he clubbed it down in one brutal blow at Tuco's face.

And Tuco, unfortunately for Walstein, instinctively squeezed his eyes closed and ducked downward. He felt the blow rattle his head and knock him back against the stones again, but it never collided with his face; instead, it seemed to give, as though someone had hit him with an extremely heavy pillow. Something wet and hot ran down the side of his nose.

He gingerly opened his eyes. His vision was still a bit blurred, but he didn't need eagle eyes to see Walstein's wide with shock, his tusked mouth hanging open. One arm extended toward Tuco's head, unmoving. The entire room was silent. Then Walstein gave a minute tug with his arm and Tuco felt it pull against his left horn. Walstein screamed in agony.

“It went straight through," someone breathed on the other side of the room. “Holy blood, he's right skewered." Walstein shuddered and bellowed again.

A moment later, Rigby dashed into the room. At first he looked irritated, but when he saw Tuco lying on the floor with Walstein's blood running down the side of his face, his eyebrows rose in an exact expression of surprise. “All right. Neither of you move," he snapped.

Walstein moaned. “It hurts. It hurts. I have to pull it out."

“You will do no such thing if you want to keep that hand. Rickles, hurry and fetch Brother Hofstaed. Hallaway, bring linens and hot water from the washroom. None of the rest of you go anywhere. I want to know what happened."

The other apprentices gave mixed accounts of the events. Some were certain that Tuco had been innocent in the affair, but others--a few of whom Tuco knew frequently shared Walstein's company--swore up and down that Tuco had provoked Walstein and gored him on purpose. Despite Tuco's earnest vow that he'd intended no harm at all, Rigby remained skeptical. “Instead of trying to leave or escape, you used a weapon against a fellow apprentice," he said, while wrapping a bellowing Walstein's hand in towels. “Whether you intended to do so or not is of little consequence. All of you apprentices are dangerous in your own ways. It is your responsibility to take every precaution to protect each other from that danger."

“But he struck me!" Tuco protested. “I was only trying to keep my face from being hit."

“Perhaps consciously. But the end result is that you are unhurt, and Walstein could lose his hand. The Almighty alone knows your heart. We mortals can judge only actions. And that is why you will do penance. Rocks at dawn."

“But--" Tuco faltered. There was nothing he could say to convince Rigby of the truth. If only it had been a lie. Then he could make everyone believe him. But his tongue gave him no advantage with honesty.

“What is keeping Brother Hofstaed?" Rigby muttered, and got to his feet. “Neither of you move. I'll go and find him. Walstein, hold tightly onto that towel with the other hand. I don't care how much it hurts." He strode briskly from the room.

When he was gone, Walstein turned back to Tuco and gave him a weak but malevolent grin. “Rocks. You'll never finish, you. Not as small as you are. Serves you right, devil boy. And you better hope I don't stay angry at you for long. You better do everything you can to keep me happy. Or else I might start wishing for vengeance on you. It's a real temptation with me. And some demon might just hear me. Turn me into something that can eat you alive. And I will, devil boy. I won't hesitate. I will eat. You. Up."