The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lemma the Librarian

The Witch and the Warlock

by Jennifer Kohl

“Well,” I said. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Nope,” Iason agreed.

“I mean, you’d think you of all people would, in your line of work.”

“You know, people always think that? But that’s just the bards skipping to the fun parts. Most of monster hunting is just walking from one place to the next, y’know?”

“I hear ya.”

Iason drew his sword. “So, we should probably help her.”

I sighed. “I suppose, if you really must.”

Iason shouted a war cry, something in Sea People I couldn’t quite make out, and charged down the hill toward the two distant, battling figures.

Even from here, it was clear that one of them was small, human, and not attacking much, if at all. The other, though, was very big and very not human. Like “twice Iason’s height” big, and just as wide as it was tall, just this enormous pot-bellied torso of massive green muscle with arms like an ogre’s, legs like a dragon, a crocodile’s head, and massive horns like a bull’s, but way bigger. Definitely Iason’s kind of thing...

...Except that I could feel a whole lot of magic down in that hollow, and it wasn’t the wild energies of a monster. It was controlled, ordered, high magic—which meant there were only a couple of possibilities of what that thing could be.

Shit. I ran after Iason as fast as I could, but he reached the bottom of the hill first and sprang at the creature, waving his sword. The girl it had been menacing screamed as it swiped at him with a massive fist, but Iason brought up his blade to block. There was a sizzling sound and Iason was driven back several feet, but the creature howled in pain and rage as a black mark like frostburn appeared across its knuckles, viscous green fluid oozing from where Iason had actually cut it.

Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. Ichor. “Iason—” I started to shout, but stopped as the creature hunched over.

Closer up, I could see the broad crest of hair that ran from the nape of its neck down the length of its spine. It was hard to miss it now that it was all standing on end like so many needl—shit!

I barely got a wind spell up in time to catch the spray of deadly-sharp spines it fired at us from its crest, but I did it, a broad gust that twisted around us and scattered the no-doubt poisonous needles harmlessly. Sighing, I followed up with a blast of flame straight at the thing’s eyes. It staggered back, more surprised than hurt, allowing me to come up next to Iason.

“Demon,” I said.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Check its knuckles.”

Iason glanced up at the hand it was waving in front of its eyes. “Shit.”

Of course a monster hunter would recognize ichor when he saw it. The blood of gods, angels, and demons, imbued with enough high magic to vaporize mortal flesh and blood. And this clearly wasn’t any god or angel! The big question was what kind of demon it was.

“Get away!” a woman’s voice shouted—the person the demon had been attacking, obviously.

“Don’t worry,” I called to her. “We’re professionals.”

I turned back to the demon and struck at it with fire. It roared and swatted the blast aside. “Petty mortal magics,” it growled in a voice like bubbling pitch. “What can one weak little girl do against me?”

“Why you—” I gathered up more fire, as much as I could muster, concentrating it into a ball the size of my fist. While I did, Iason swung at the demon again, but it dodged back with surprising speed, then swung at him. Iason ducked under the blow, and while the demon was off balance, I struck with my spell.

It swatted at the fire again—and the spell exploded on contact, disintegrating its clawed hand and half its forearm. The demon howled, and I laughed at it. “Take that, you ugly, overgrown—yargh!” I ducked and threw up wind as it fired more spines at me.

But as I did, Iason struck again, his sword slicing along its torso before it got him with its good claw and sent him sprawling.

“Stop it!” the girl screamed. “Leave him alone!”

I clenched my fist as I straightened up. Poor thing was doing all she could, rooting for her rescuers. How dare that demon attack her! It liked preying on little girls, huh? Thought we were just weak little mortals? I’d show it what mortal magic could do! I lashed out with a spray of fireballs, none large enough to hurt it. The thing laughed as they splashed against its skin, like the mocking laugh of every bully that had ever taunted a smaller, weaker kid who couldn’t hurt them. It grated up my spine, but I pushed that aside while I finished my other spell—using a tiny bit of wind to pick up one of the creature’s own spines and throw it right into the demon’s left eye.

I practically snarled in triumph as the damn thing—literally damned!—staggered back, clutching at its face with its remaining hand.

The girl stamped her foot. “Stop it stop it stop it!” she shouted. “You’re ruining everything! I’ll kill you!”

Wait, was she talking to—

“Kill them, Sonneillon! Rip them to pieces!”

“With pleasure, Mistress,” the demon rumbled, and advanced toward me.

Nuh-uh. It was working for her? Then why was it attacking her? This made no sense! It was just stupid, and I wasn’t going to stand for it! In fact—yeah, I would end it there and then, in one move. I reached mentally into the clouds above me and the earth below, wind and water above, earth and water beneath, sky and ground, and me as a channel of fire between them. I felt the power begin to flow, surging through me. Little sparks crackled over my skin as I raised my hand.

It felt good, so good. I couldn’t believe I’d been suckered into fighting a demon to protect someone who turned out to have summoned it in the first place! The only reason to fight it that made sense was to lure us into a trap. She’d probably laughed about it beforehand, laughed at me like the demon laughed, well I’d show them both, they wouldn’t be laughing any more! I stretched out my finger—

“Lemma!” Iason shouted, charging into my field of view as he attacked the demon on its wounded side. It tried to swing at him with its severed hand, which he dodged easily and then stabbed up, slashing a gaping wound in the creature’s chest.

I blinked. My finger was pointed right at the girl, I was about to..! Hastily I shifted targets, just in time as a bolt of lightning flowed through the channel I’d created, striking the demon right in the chest wound. It screamed in hate and agony, then exploded in a puff of green flame and was gone.

“I’ll kill you!” screamed the girl and charged us. I hit her with a gust of wind that knocked her flat on her back.

“Calm your tits,” I told her. I walked over and looked down at her, hands on my hips. “Do you realize what just happened?”

“Yes!” she yelled, slamming her fist down in the mud. “You killed Sonneillon!”

“Banished,” corrected Iason, putting his sword away as he walked up to us. “You can’t kill a demon.”

He was mostly right. A demon’s body is a construct made of mostly magic, with just enough matter to hold it together. All that happens if you destroy it is that the demon goes back to wherever it came from and stays there until someone calls it back into the world and gives it what it needs to make a new body. Even Iason’s sword just disrupted the magic that held the body together—the demon’s true self is pure mu, void, soulstuff, whatever you want to call it, and can’t be destroyed under normal circumstances.

Of course there are always abnormal circumstances. There were ways to truly kill a demon. Well, one way. A way which, thanks to a certain book we recovered from a vampire nest, I now had access to. I tried not to think about it.

“Killed, banished, whatever!” snapped the girl. “It took me weeks to get together everything I needed to summon him, and now I have to start from scratch! You’ve ruined everything!

“Saved everything, more like,” I countered. “That was a wrath demon, wasn’t it?”

“Well...” she admitted.

“Yeah, I thought so. And you were angry enough to order it to kill. It had its hooks in you! Do you have any idea how much damage an out of control wrath demon that powerful could do?”

“It wouldn’t have got out of control if you hadn’t interfered! I was doing fine keeping my cool while it attacked me, it would’ve given in if you hadn’t gotten in the way!“

Oh, so that’s why she was fighting it—demonstrating dominance so it would obey her! That made sense, sort of.

“Young lady,” Iason said sternly, “demons always get out of control eventually. They’re not to be played with!“

“Hmph,” said the girl, sitting up. “I think I know my demons. I know better than to fall for a wrath demon’s taunts, unlike some people!“

Grr. It’s not like I knew what kind of demon it was! For all I knew, it could be a sloth demon, which meant staying cool was exactly the wrong thing to do! Still, I had to admit, it had been close. Once I started getting angry, the demon had no doubt been pumping up that anger. If I’d killed the girl, it would be free—and I would be lost, my soul surrendered to wrath. I’d become its possession, a soulless shell, my knowledge and power and body perfectly intact, but my will just an extension of its own.

The girl stood up, brushing off the front of her... tunic? Short dress? Whatever it was, it was white, sleeveless, belted at the waist, and ended a third of the way down her thighs. A hooded white cape and a pair of white knee-length boots completed the ensemble, which pretty much screamed “I think I’m the hero of this story.”

“And now thanks to you two, I’m not going to be able to save that village!” She put her hands on her hips. “So what are you going to do about that, huh?“

“Um,” I said. “What? Wait. Let me get this straight. You summoned a wrath demon—a pretty powerful one!—to... to...” I flailed my hands, unable to express the sheer stupidity of what I was hearing.

“To help people?” Iason demanded, equally incredulous.

“Of course!” the girl said. She brushed back her chin-length dark hair, then struck a pose, legs spread, arms akimbo, back straight, head tilted up and looking to the side. “I’m Rhoda the Mighty! It’s what I do!”

“...What.”

“Rhoda,” she repeated. “Rhoda the Mighty?”

I looked down at her. Let me repeat that: I looked down at her. I am not tall—in fact Rhoda was the first adult I’d met since leaving home that was shorter than me! And despite being a bit baby-faced, she definitely was an adult; either that or she had a pair of unusually well-behaved puppies stuffed down the front of her tunic. (Actually, that was possible—those things were big even by Tin Island standards, and judging by how they moved when she stood up or posed, seemed to have wills of their own.)

Iason shrugged. “I’ve never heard of her, have you?” he asked me.

“Nope,” I said.

She huffed. “Well, I guess you don’t get much news down south! I’m a hero, the greatest warlock in Alba! I’ve saved countless villages from bandits, monsters, you name it!”

“Countless, huh?” I said skeptically.

“Well... four,” she admitted. “But that’s a lot for my first year!”

“Right,” I said. “And you use... demons for that?”

“Of course!” she replied cheerily. “Grandpa taught me!”

“Your grandfather... taught you to summon demons?”

She nodded. “Oh yes, he was a master warlock. Well, until the thing happened.”

“The thing?” Iason asked. He gave me a look that said, basically, who is this madwoman? I gave him the same look back.

“Well... he kinda made himself a lord? With the demons, I mean. Before I was born. And I guess he maybe got a bit of a bad reputation for being, you know, a lord that had, um, demons serving him.”

I sighed. “Lemme guess. Was the phrase ‘dark lord’ tossed around?”

She tried to look sly and ended up somewhere around coy. “Maaaybe. So, um, heroes would occasionally show up to try to kill him? And my Aunt Aili sort of fell in love with one, and helped him kill grandpa?”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Aili was his youngest and most beautiful daughter?”

“Yeah...” the girl responded, shifting uncomfortably.

“Ah,” said Iason. “One of those.“

“And I’m guessing you fled your grandfather’s castle while the local peasants burned it, with nothing but the clothes on your back and... I’m betting a book he used to teach you?”

The girl eyed me suspiciously. “How’d you know?”

I sighed. “Lucky guess.” Great. If we were lucky, she was casting spells out of Daemonologie Pro Novitiis, a fantastically dangerous book that meant huge trouble for Iason and me. If we weren’t lucky, it would mean she had the Sepher Shel Agrat, an apocalyptically dangerous book on par with, well, with the book in my pack that I didn’t like thinking about. Either way, we needed to get it back from her.

“Look,” she said. “I don’t have time for this! Brochen’s curse falls on the village tonight! If I don’t stop him before then, they’ll have no choice but to hand over their most beautiful maiden to him. And without Sonneillon to fight him with, I’m going to need to come up with a new plan in a hurry!“

I looked at Iason. Maybe there was a way to get the book out of her without the usual struggle—at least, not against her...

* * *

We traded stories on the way to Rhoda’s camp. I told her about my quest, and she explained this Brochen guy. From the sound of it, he was a witch—a human user of wild magic—and a powerful one, at that. I’d never actually fought a witch, and Iason admitted he never had either, but we’d both heard stories. They tended to be solitary, living in mountains or forests or out on moors, places where wild magic is strongest. Self-taught, mostly, but occasionally one would take an apprentice. And their magic was... different. Instinctive, unpredictable, chaotic. They didn’t weave their spells like I did—they just sort of tossed them out. So less controlled, less refined, but faster.

Anyway, this Brochen guy apparently visited a village to the north, looking to pick up a girl of all things, and when everyone was too creeped out to deal with him, he threatened them: they had one month to offer up their most beautiful maiden to him, or he would curse their fields barren, their wells dry, the usual stuff. Fun guy.

By the time we got to where she’d pitched her tent, we’d hashed out a deal: Iason and I help take down Brochen, and Rhoda gives us the book. “I’ve got the main summons I use memorized anyway,” she said. “And a ton of notes. I don’t really need it anymore.“

“So what’s the plan?” I asked her. “You must’ve been watching this Brochen guy, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He has a house up in the hills. It’s got all kinds of magical traps and things around it, but he’ll be leaving it tonight to head for the village. I know what route he’ll take—he’s been back a couple times to remind them, and he always goes the same way. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect us—he took out a couple of lesser demons I sent after him, so I think he thinks he’s beaten me.”

The plan we came up with was simple. Rhoda needed time to cook up her next demon , enough that it would be cutting it pretty close to wait until she was finished, so she and I would ambush Brochen to slow him down. While we were doing that, she would finish up the summoning here at camp, with Iason staying with her just in case Brochen slipped past us somehow.

Yes, I know. I spotted that small logistical problem too. When I asked Rhoda about it, she answered, “Oh, I’m sending a demon with you. Obviously I won’t be fighting personally. I’m a warlock! I don’t know the first thing about combat magic.“

Is there anything you know the first thing about? I wondered. Not demon summoning, clearly—the first thing you need to know about summoning demons is NEVER SUMMON DEMONS.

But to be honest, I had no idea what to expect from this Brochen guy. Curses are easier with wild magic than the real stuff, for the same reason it’s easier to hurt someone with an explosion than a sword, but still, cursing an entire village at once was pretty hardcore. And while the Tin Islanders had no high magic worth talking about, who knows what kind of wild magic nonsense they might get up to? And on top of that, moors are definitely wild magic country—he’d be stronger and I’d be weaker here, and I greatly doubted he’d be willing to move our battlefield to a crossroads or temple or farm or something.

I mean, I’d be able to take him. No matter what powers or advantages he had, he was just a witch, while I was an elite, highly trained graduate of the greatest school of high magic to ever exist. But it’d be unpleasant. Backup would be nice, and if it had to come from a demon, I guess it had to come from a demon.

“But wait,” asked Iason. “If the demon is helping Lemma, why do we need to stay behind so you can summon it?”

“I know how to summon more than one demon,” Rhoda replied. “The one I’m planning to summon tomorrow is going to take a lot of time and energy because she’s pretty powerful. Not as powerful as Sonneillon, but powerful enough, I hope. Anyway, I can summon a lesser wrath demon easily, to be Lemma’s backup. Speaking of...”

She sprang up from where she’d been sitting, then with quick, practiced motions of one foot, she drew a pentagram in the muck we’d been using to draw maps for our plans. A sweeping motion of that same foot, and she connected the points of the pentagram in a circle. All told, it took her about three seconds.

She drew a nasty-looking bronze knife from somewhere in her robes and passed it through the air over the circle, muttering something I couldn’t make out, but it sounded nasty. She then used the knife to prick the fleshy part of her hand at the base of her thumb, and squeezed out five fat drops of blood into the center of the circle.

The blood sizzled when it hit the mud, which mounded itself up, forming into a statue of a twisted, hideous gargoyle. Rhoda shouted something violent-sounding in a language I didn’t know, and the late-afternoon light seemed to fade away as the world turned itself inside out. There was a roaring noise, a blast of hot air that stank like rotten eggs, and then—

“Oh,” said Iason. “Huh.”

I tried not to laugh. But not very hard, which is probably why I ended up half bent over, clutching my side with one hand and pointing at the demon in the circle.

It was still a twisted, ugly gargoyle, of course. It was just that it was a foot tall and pastel pink.

“Who dares laugh at the mighty Berith!?” it roared. Well, “roared.” More like squeaking, really. Chirrupping, maybe. I’ve never been entirely sure how that’s different from chirping. Point is, it was even funnier when it was trying to yell at me, and I laughed harder. If it had been a humor demon, my soul’d be gone.

(Of course there’s no such thing. It wouldn’t make sense—how would you use someone’s sense of humor to tempt and manipulate them?)

Anyway, the demon snarled and leapt at me, but smacked against the edges of its circle like an invisible wall. It shrieked and beat at the walls of its ethereal prison, but they held.

“Oh, it’s you again,” it said when its eyes fell on Rhoda.

She crossed her arms and looked down at it sternly. “Me again. Planning to challenge my authority, or do you submit?”

It sighed. “Nah, I know where that ends up.” It continued, sounding weary and bored, “I acknowledge you as my Mistress for as long as your will binds me within the circles of this world.”

Rhoda grinned. “Great!” She kicked at the muck, breaking the circle, and the demon flew out. “Everyone,” she continued, “this is Berith, a wrath demon. He’ll be helping attack Brochen. And unlike last time,” she gave Berith a pointed glare, “he won’t fly straight into the first attack spell and get forcibly discorporated.“

“Ha!”

My laugh earned me a glare of my own from Rhoda. “And unlike last time, you won’t forcibly discorporate him the way you did Sonneillon!” she informed me.

I gave her my best “who, me?” expression in reply.

“Hang on,” said Iason. “Are we sure it’s safe having a wrath demon around? I mean, Lemma, you can be a little... testy sometimes?”

“Pfft.” I waved a dismissive hand. “Okay, Sonneillon got a little under my skin, but he got me by surprise, and I still pulled it out. Nothing this little guy can do will break my temper.“

“Okay, so confirmation a pride demon would be worse.” Iason grinned at me.

Why that—! I choked back my first instinctive reply, a fireball to the face, and my second, a remark so cutting he would wish I just gave him a fireball to the face. “See?” I said. “I’m fine.“

“Um, does your eye normally twitch like that?” asked Rhoda.

“Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth while Iason chuckled. Point was, I didn’t act on my annoyance, so there was nothing for Berith to get a grip on. This would be easy, I just had to not do anything out of anger. During a battle. With a guy whose magic would be defined by unpredictability.

Well, maybe I’d get lucky and Berith would get discorporated in Brochen’s first attack.

Heh, like he’d be so pathetic as to get caught that way twice.

* * *

So, Berith was discorporated by Brochen’s first attack.

I can’t say I was that sorry to see him go. He started needling me the moment we left camp: “Hey, Lemma, right? Listen, since we’re allies, I want you to know that I’m not going to try to get you angry so I can claim your soul.”

“Also Rhoda ordered you not to and you bound yourself to her to get out of the circle,” I said.

“Also that,” he agreed. “So to make certain I follow my orders correctly, I need to clearly establish what does and doesn’t make you angry. So, am I annoying you right now?”

“You’re not doing anything,” I answered.

“How about now?” I glanced at him. He was flying upside down.

“Nope,” I said.

“Now?” He made faces at me.

“No!”

“How about now?”

“Argh! Stop—oh dammit, I see what you’re doing.”

“Whatever do you mean? Am I annoying you somehow? You said I wasn’t.” Berith smirked at me.

He was trying to annoy me. Trying to get control of me. I felt a snarl building up inside me as I remembered I couldn’t resist. Any attempt to control my mind. I had no chance, and that pissed me off even more! I—

No. Think it through, Lemma. He’s not trying to control your mind. He’s trying to take your soul. It’s completely different! The results just look similar. You can fight this. You don’t have to respond.

It was enough, barely. I could convince myself that I didn’t have to give in to every impulse a demon tried to encourage. He still kept trying to piss me off the whole way, constantly asking “Am I annoying you? Am I annoying you?” the entire time we spent walking to the hill Brochen was going to have to pass, and the entire time we spent waiting there for him to show up.

But he finally did. I saw a tall man, younger than I expected—maybe 30. He wore a simple black, belted sleeveless tunic, leaving his arms and legs bare; they were long, toned rather than buff, and tanned. He was bald as an egg, but probably intentionally, given the large, complex, abstract tattoo that covered the top of his head and extended down the back of his neck. It was a good look on him, actually. He reminded me of a lot of the boys at the Academy, or at least the better-looking ones—hot in a slender, intellectual sort of way.

If only he weren’t up to his neck in icky, icky wild magic. Also the whole thing where he cursed an entire village and threatened to steal away its most beautiful maiden. I mean, who did he think he was? That’s just cliche.

Anyway, I decided to open with a classic and tossed a fireball at him. At the same time, Berith charged forward screaming. Brochen turned, saw us, and gestured. Vines suddenly sprang out of the ground, forming a sort of narrow wall between us, just in time for the fireball to splash against it. Then the now-burning vines split into a thrashing tangle that caught Berith.

The whole Berith-vine-fireball tangle vanished in a burst of greenish-purple flame, leaving just me and Brochen.

I am SO having a talk with Rhoda about her ‘backup’ when I get back. Endangering my flippin’ SOUL all morning just to end up doing precisely jack and shit?

On the other hand, thanks to Berith I did have some pent-up aggression to let out. Which I did, directly at Brochen, with a mix of fire and wind magic that created a swirling vortex of leaping flames around him.

Or, well, around where he should have been, if he hadn’t just sunk into the mud! A moment later a surge of mud exploded behind me, and I barely managed to get out of the way as Brochen emerged. Another tangle of vines exploded outward from the hole he’d left in the earth, but I created a wall of fire to hold them back.

Unfortunately that meant I could see Brochen, and sensing him was hard—if he’d been a monster, I’d be able to pinpoint the stench of this much wild magic, but he was human. By nature he was aligned with high magic, which made his wild magic—fuzzy is the best word I can think of. Hard to pinpoint. And now with all the magic around us, it was even harder.

I kept moving and turning, trying to figure out where he was—and then slipped as the mud under my feet turned to slippery-smooth ice. “Fuck!” I landed hard on my ass, then immediately rolled to the side—the last thing you want to be in a fight is prone and stationary! That’s what corpses do, and it’s a great way to become one.

My wall of fire flickered out as I got back to my feet. Now I could see him, gesturing and muttering something. Not fast enough. I struck again with a gale-force wind, strong enough to knock him off his feet. He hit the ground just like I had, but I was ready for him to roll, and already had a fireball ready to go—when fog suddenly boiled outward from him, thick and white and blank.

I released the fireball at where I thought he was. I heard it sizzle, but no screams of pain. A miss.

I turned slowly on the spot, trying to figure out where his attack would come from. What will it be? He seems to favor earth and water, or maybe those things again? The long... stick things. Planty stuff. If he... uh...

Why was it so hard to think all of a sudden? It’s almost like... the thing. Whatsis. Mind magic. It occurred to me, vaguely, that I could see magic. And there was a mass of threads all over my head, tangled up in the anti-glamour charms in my clothes, but still snaking in, getting my thoughts just as tangled. Too complicated to figure out—it was wild magic, so there really wasn’t any pattern to figure out. But it was already fading, my thoughts clearing. I could just grab it and—metaphorically speaking—yank it off, to dissolve in the air.

So, he was switching up tactics to mental magic. I couldn’t see him, but he seemed to know where I was—which made sense, because he’d be able to feel my high magic the same way I would feel a monster’s wild magic. That was a pretty steep disadvantage—but I could feel the surge of wild magic coming toward me, and catch it on its way in, pull the spell apart before it could hit me. Then just fire back in the direction it came from...

“Close!” Brochen called out. Unfortunately there were echoes from the hills around us, so it didn’t help me find him in the fog. “Good guess. And I’m impressed you’re still thinking clearly enough to fire off an attack—you’re much more skilled than that friend of yours that sent the demons after me.“

Another mind spell, which I dissipated. It was strange magic, like a glamour but not. There weren’t supposed to be any kinds of mind magic besides geas, glamours, and illusions, but this wasn’t any of them. It affected my thoughts, not my senses or actions, so it wasn’t any kind of illusion or geas. But it didn’t change my attitudes or feelings, it just... made thinking harder. It was something different.

Stupid wild magic breaking all the rules all the time.

Another confusion spell hurtled at me, and I dissipated it yet again. Stalemate, for now. Which was good, since the goal was to slow him down until Rhoda could bring the big demon, but Maybe I could blow the fog away? I started gathering together wind magic.

“It must be getting very hard to think by now,” Brochen said from somewhere in the fog. “The only clear thing in your head is my words.” He hurled another confusion spell, and I barely countered it in time before it hit.

“Harder and harder to think anything other than what I say,” he continued.

Wait. Is he actually..? He is! He’s trying to use confusion to make me think what he wants me to... oh no. Oh no!

I let the wind magic explode outward, hoping to clear enough fog to see him. No luck, so I just had to guess, fire a spread of weaker fireballs in what I hoped was his general direction.

It wasn’t.

“Wow, you really are something!” he shouted. ”Still fighting back?“

I felt the confusion spell as it approached. I had plenty of time to stop it. It would be easy! Except for the slight problem that it was impossible.

He’s trying to control my mind. I can’t resist. All I can do is... uh... the... thing with the...

Another confusion spell hit my mind before the first could fade. What was I..? Trying to remember... something... about..?

Another spell. Another. Another. I couldn’t count anymore. The world around me was blank and white and nothing made sense, little snippets of thought tumbling around in my head unable to connect to anything. tangling and clogging, stuck. I stopped moving, couldn’t really remember how. I just stared ahead, mouth agape, struggling to make sense of... well, anything. But it was impossible, everything was too jumbled, too confused—

“The only clear thing in your head is my words.”

The only clear thing in my head is his words. A thought. A whole thought, solid and real. Something made sense! The only clear thing in my head is his words. Clear, comprehendible, and obviously true.

“Can’t think of anything but what I say.”

Can’t think of anything but what he says. Another thought! True and real. The only clear thing in my head is his words. Can’t think of anything but what he says. An island of stability in a sea of chaos, and I clung to it desperately.

“My words echo in your head, over and over again.”

His words echo in my head, over and over again. The island was a little bigger! The only clear thing in my head is his words. Can’t think of anything but what he says. His words echo in my head, over and over again. Three clear, solid thoughts bouncing around in the empty fog that filled my head, back and forth, echoing off the walls, becoming a chorus, a fugue.

“No thoughts but what I tell you.”

No thoughts but what he tells me. Echoing through my head. And it was true, the fog was lifting. I... I can think ag—no thoughts but what he tells me. But I can—the only clear thing in my head is his words. I’m not confused anym—can’t think of anything but what he says.

“Relax.”

The fog was lifting from around me as well as inside me. I could see him now. Now’s my chance, I can—relax. To—relax. Have to—relax.

“Relax.”

It echoed through my head, doubled now, building on itself, getting louder than the other words.

“Relax.”

Maybe there was a reason not to relax, but I couldn’t think of it. The only voice in my head was his, telling me to relax.

“Obey me. Obey me. Obey me. Obey me.”

The words echoed in my relaxed, empty head. Simple, clear, everywhere. Obey him. Obey him. Obey him. Obey him.

“And now you can feel your own thoughts returning, but my words still echo.”

I furrowed my brow. That was complicated. I can feel my own thoughts returning, but his words still echo. Obey him. It’s true obey him. I’m able to think obey him again. But obey him it’s hard obey him and confusing obey him.

“Hard to think thoughts that go against my echoing words, but so easy to think thoughts that go along with them...”

That makes sense. I can think about obeying him. I can imagine what he’ll make me do. But I can’t think about disob—obey him obey him obey him obey him. Yes, I’ll just think about obeying him, it’s much easier...

Brochen smiled. “That’s better. Now, what’s your name?”

“Lemma,” I answered automatically. Obey him obey him obey him obey him.

“You fought well,” he said. “Oh, and you like it when I praise you.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. I fought him obey him fought obey him I... I won’t fight him anymore. I obey him. I want him to praise me. “I can help you.“

“I bet you can,” he said. “I’ve never seen magic like yours. Can you teach it to me?”

No, I can’t—obey him. But he uses the wrong kind of obey him the wrong obey him different magic, he can’t obey him can’t learn mine! “N-no...” I managed. “Impossible...“

“That’s okay,” he said. “It’s good that you told me.”

I relaxed, beaming. Much better.

“You can still help me,” he continued. “Help me take down any more demons and allies that girl has, so I can finally finish this job.”

Oh no, I don’t want to fight Iasobey him don’t want to fight obey him dobey him obey him—Wait, job? What does he mean by obey him no what job is he talking obey him what jobey him obey him...

“My friend Iason,” I said. “And one other demon. I don’t know anything about it except that it’s more powerful than the one you killed today and less powerful than the one Iason and I killed yesterday.”

“Interesting,” he said. “What—” He froze, then cocked his head as if listening. Then he whirled around. “Who’s there?”

A woman stepped out of the last remnants of fog. She was tall and bronze-skinned and long-legged, with curly, hip-length hair that started dark red at the roots and slowly darkened to black as it descended. She wore a filmy white dress, sleeveless and low-cut, with a long skirt slit almost to her waist on the left side. With every swaying step, her perfectly toned, smooth brown leg flashed in and out of view, while the upper part of the dress clung close to her, shifting as she moved, her body a tantalizing shadow beneath that seemed always on the verge of being revealed.

There was basically no way she was anything other than a succubus. So that’s what Rhoda needed Iason for, I thought as I unleashed fiery death in her direction.

It’s all about fluids, you see. Even I know that much—every demonic House has a certain bodily fluid you need to summon that kind of demon. They’re pretty much the obvious ones—blood for wrath, phlegm for sloth, sweat for fear, and so on. For lust demons... well, you could use the obvious fluid from either set of equipment, but the best results came from mixing both.

Anyway, the succubus sprang into the air, a pair of wings that hadn’t been there a moment ago unfurling and beating the air slowly. Help him take down any more demons, I thought. Obey him. I had to destroy her, but she wasn’t making it easy swooping around like that.

I fired another blast, and she dodged down, dropping almost to the ground before climbing back up. Or trying to—vines exploded out of the earth and wrapped around her, binding her arms, legs, wings, and pulling her down to our level.

“Looks like you got me,” she said in a low, throaty purr that raised the temperature at least ten degrees. She tried to wiggle free, but succeeded only in squirming enticingly, which I’m sure wasn’t at all her goal in the first place. “I’m completely under your power...”

“She’s a—” I began.

“I know what she is,” Brochen said. “I’m not falling for her tricks.”

The succubus pouted. “Ah, that’s too bad. After what you did to Lemma there, I thought being under your power would be fun...”

“Are you implying I controlled her for sex?” Brochen asked. “Do I look like I need to do that?”

“Need to?” she purred. “No. But want to? That’s another story. Come on, you must have at least thought about it...”

“I don’t need to,” Brochen repeated.

“No?” the succubus asked.

“We should destroy her,” I interrupted. “She’s dangerous!”

“Trust me, Lemma,” Brochen replied sharply, almost a snap.

But the longer he lets her talk the more trust him obey him trust him. But she could be obey him trust him obey him. But—! Trust him obey him trust him obey him trust him... I guess it might be okay... I should just trust him... it’ll be fine.

“If you don’t need magic,” the succubus asked smirking, “why are you using it to force a village to give you their most beautiful maiden?”

Brochen laughed. “As if it would get that far! For the past week, every of-age maiden in that village has been in a scramble to stop being one as soon as possible. There’ve been a dozen weddings just in the last day! Nope, it’ll be just like the last five villages. By the time I get there, if there are any maidens left they’ll be ancient or hideous. I’ll pretend to throw a tantrum, the town matchmaker will offer to pay me off, give me half the fees they’ve collected in the past week, and then it’s off to ‘curse’ the next town.”

He—that’s... it’s a scam!? I mean, I guess that’s... not as evil as blackmailing a village into handing over a girl to be his slave or a sacrifice or whatever. But it’s still pretty ev—trust him. It’s—trust him. Well, it’s not like he’s forcing anyone to do anything... and it is pretty clever...

“Oh, cunning as well as handsome and powerful,” the succubus cooed. “Just my type.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” asked Brochen. “I’m not going to fuck a succubus!”

“But you want to,” she said. “I can feel it. Your blood pumping as you lengthen, thicken, harden...” Her full, ruby lips carressed every word she said, melting them so that they dripped off her tongue like dark honey. “Your body knows the pleasure it could take from me. You would not regret it.” Her dark eyes were wide and deep, inviting, windows onto the darkness into which she was urging him to fall.

Brochen shook his head, firmly.

“You cannot lie to me,” the succubus said. “Not about this. I feel your lust. I smell it. I already know how hard you are, how big... and I want you. The lust you feel for me is nothing compared to the lust that burns within me every moment since my apodiabolosis. For me as for you, the only release is found in each other... please... help me... let me show you pleasure beyond what any mortal woman could provide...”

Brochen shook his head again. “Yeah, I’m hard for you. You’re a succubus, that’s how it goes. But you forgot, you’re not the only woman here.” He turned to me.

Wait! (trust him) It’s not as bad as fucking her, but obey him any act of lust will trust him give her power over obey him—

“Come here, Lemma,” he ordered, and of course I did.

You idiot, this—

“Kneel.”

—is such a stupid obey him obey him obey obey.

At Brochen’s orders, I pulled his cock out. It was as big and hard as the succubus said, and ramrod straight. Knowing what was coming, my mouth watered at the sight of it.

And sure enough, he had suck him off, his eyes fixed defiantly on the succubus the whole time.

That’s even worse! I thought as I trailed kisses up and down his shaft, my tongue darting out here and there to tease sensitive spots. He’ll be thinking about her when—

“Ohhh, that is good,” he said, burying his hands in my long red hair.

I shivered in pleasure at his praise. I had a job to focus on. I had to obey him, and suck him off, and trust that he knew what he was doing. Even though I know he doesn’trust him obey him trust him obey him.

My fingers danced up his thighs while I took him into my mouth, sucking his bulb gently. I began to bob my head, taking him a little deeper each time, while I moved my fingers to his balls. They were hot, heavy, full—this wasn’t going to take long.

My lips touched his base while his tip touched the back of my throat. I didn’t gag; like I keep telling you, I’m a multitalented girl, and the Academy stuffed a couple thousand horny teens in a small space and then taught any that wanted to learn all about mind magic, potions, enchantments, transformations, not to mention enough illusions and cosmetic magic to ensure that any student who cares even a little is going to be hot by their fourth year. Let’s just say my contract as a Librarian wasn’t my first encounter with mind magic, and melting a building wasn’t the only thing I was known for among the students.

“Holy fuck, Lemma!” Brochen groaned. “Where did you learn—fuuuuck!“

I pulled back, rapidly stroking his shaft with one hand while the other played with his balls. I sealed my lips around him a little way below his bulb and sucked, flicking the tip of my tongue lightly back and forth against the little groove where the underside of his shaft met the lip of his bulb.

With a groan, he came, clutching the back of my head while he pumped my mouth full of spunk. When he was done, I smiled and opened wide, showing him his cum covering my tongue. Then, still smiling, I curled it backwards and swallowed, before opening my mouth again to show it was all gone.

He stared down at me, panting slightly. “Fuck,” he said again. “Well that settles it, this is a way better use for you than fighting that warlock bitch.”

Gee, what a surprise, someone got into my mind and now they want me to be their sex slave. At least he’s someone I can trust. And hot, that definitely helps.

I stood and dusted myself off, then looked back over my shoulder. The succubus smirked at me, the bitch. She knew I knew what she was trying to do, and she knew I knew she knew. She thought she was going to succeed, too, but I trusted Brochen.

The worst part was, that smirk was the hottest damn thing I’d seen since the Queen of the Faeries.

* * *

“Lemma!” Rhoda shouted as I walked back into camp. “You’re back! Is it done?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Brochen took out Berith and that succubus you sent, but I nailed him right after he beat the succubus.”

“That’s great!”

“Yep.” I looked around. “Where’s Iason?”

Rhoda blushed slightly. “Um, summoning Ardatlili was a bit, uh... strenuous. He kinda passed out after. He’s fine!” she added hastily. “Just worn out. I gave him plenty of water, just a few hours rest and he’ll be as good as ever.”

“Good,” I said vaguely. And it was good. Fighting Iason would be a pain. Much better if I just didn’t have to. I shot a fireball straight up, and it exploded.

“What was that!?” demanded Rhoda.

I could warn her—obey him. Tell her—obey him. Honestly, I don’t really like her. It’s her fault that succubus, Ardatlili I guess, is going to—trust him. It’s her fault—trust him. I don’t like her. Screw her. “That was the signal,” I said.

“Signal? What sigggghhhuhh?” She staggered, clutching her head. “Wha...?” She shook again as another confusion spell hit her, and Brochen walked into the camp, dragging a vine-wrapped Ardatlili behind him.

“Iason’s asleep,” I told him. “I can make sure he stays that way for as long as we need.”

Brochen nodded and cast another confusion spell. I nipped back into Iason’s tent to put him under with a quick sleeping spell and then returned to Brochen’s side. I watched Rhoda as his magic struck her again and again. Seeing it from the outside, I couldn’t believe Brochen hadn’t thought to make me a sex slave from the start. Rhoda got hotter with every spell! The way her eyes got wider and blanker with every casting? Her mouth drooping open as her face slackened and her posture relaxed? She used to have a mind of her own, but now she was a puppet with her strings cut, and Brochen was going to tie her to him instead...

When a slow trickle of drool started to appear at the corner of her mouth, Brochen stopped his spells. Then he handed the vine serving as Ardatlili’s leash to me. “Watch the succubus,” he told me. “Don’t let her escape or tempt you.” Then he walked closer to Rhoda and bent down to talk quietly to her.

It took effort, but I tore my gaze from the handsome man mindfucking a sexy girl the same way he’d minfucked me just a few hours earlier. “I know what you’re doing,” I whispered to Ardatlili.

“Oh?” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Slavery doesn’t turn me on! You’re taking my attraction to Brochen... okay, to Brochen and Rhoda, she’s cute even if she is annoying. Point is, you’re trying to turn it into me being turned on by that kind of control, to make me easier to manipulate. It won’t work!”

She laughed. “Arrogant mortal! You are fortunate indeed that I am not a pride demon, or I would have you in my grip by now.”

Why do people keep feeling the need to say stuff like that?

She continued, “I have no interest in you. You are bound already in slavery.” Her smile was exactly halfway between a cat and a shark. “Once I have your master, I shall have you, and more importantly my Mistress.”

“Liar.” She had to be lying. I mean, which was more likely, that I had some kind of fetish for mind magic and sex slaves, or that the lust demon four feet away was screwing with me? Plus a demon can only get power over you from your choices. I’m pretty sure that if you’re forced to do something with mind magic, they can’t exploit that. Otherwise they’d all just use mind spells all the time, right?

Although... if Brochen ordered me to hold still while Ardatlili teased me, and they kept it up until I begged... would the begging count?

It was getting a bit warm, and Ardatlili’s mocking smile made me wonder if she could tell what I was thinking. I needed a subject change. “Wait,” I said, realizing something. “How are you able to just sit there and do nothing while Brochen attacks Rhoda? Shouldn’t you be fighting to protect your Mistress or something?”

Ardatlili shrugged. Even wrapped in vines as she was, it caused an impressive series of ripple effects. “Mistress ordered me to defeat Brochen, not to protect her.”

Fuck! I could see her whole plan. Devouring Brochen’s soul and turning him into puppet would certainly count as defeating him. Tricking him into making me blow him was a step in that direction, and now he had the idea of sex slaves in his head. Was he going to pass up the chance to turn Rhoda into one? Another act of lust, more power over him for Ardatlili... which meant standing by and doing nothing right now was a step in her plan to defeat him, so she was technically obeying Rhoda. And if Ardatlili did get complete control over Brochen... and he controlled Rhoda... she could get Rhoda to unleash her completely.

Ardatlili’s smile widened. It was definitely more shark than cat now. “Once I devour your souls, you and your companion will be my protectors, arrogant little mortal. Brochen shall be my hunter, bringing confused little mortals for me to devour. And Mistress,” she licked her lips, savoring the words, “will summon lesser demons of lust and help me bind them into my service, to deliver still more souls unto me. My power will grow without limit! All souls shall me mine to consume, and mortals shall look up to their new goddess-queen and tremble in terror and desire!”

I rolled my eyes. Trust him. “Yeah, but you’re not getting Brochen’s soul,” I told her. He’ll figure out—trust him. He already knows what she’s up to. He’ll have Rhoda banish her or me kill her or something.

I deliberately turned my back on Ardatlili and her smirk, and back to watching Brochen. He had her face in his hands, tilted up to look into his eyes, and I could just make out what he was saying to her.

“Obey me.”

Obey obey obey obey, I thought, remembering him doing the same to me.

“Obey me. Obey me. Obey me.”

Obey obey obey obey obey.

“Desire me.”

That’s new—desire him. I mean, he was already good-looking. And every time he spoke—

“Desire me.”

Desire him. Every time he spoke it was like my thoughts went dead and only his voice mattered, echoing inside me, melting my silenced mind, which dripped down through me until it pooled, hot and slick and wet, between my legs...

“Desire me.”

Desire him. Of course I did! How could I not! I wanted to just rush over there and tear his clothes off and—obey him—I was going to stay here and watch over Ardatlili.

Rhoda’s dark eyes were still blank and big, her face still slack, but it was flushed too, her breathing hard. Desire him. She wanted him too. Of course she did, how could anyone not?

“You’re my slave.”

I’m his slave. Well, duh! I obey him and I’m his slave. I trust him and I’m his slave. It was just logical.

“You love being fucked by your Master.”

I love being fucked by my Master. The pool of melted brain between my legs was hotter than ever, crying out for him to fill it. He hadn’t fucked me yet, but I already knew I would love it when he did.

Master seemed to be hesitating, looking down at Rhoda. Then, suddenly, he kissed her slack, open lips, dropping his hands to her waist to pull her closer to him. Slowly she seemed to sort of half-wake, responding to his kiss and putting her arms around him.

He quickly stripped her out of her clothes, and then his hands went straight to her massive tits, of course. I mean, a handful of me is the same amount as a handful of her, it’s just a handful of me is my whole breast and like a twentieth of hers. So how come guys are so much more excited by girls like her?

Trust Master. Of course, he’d already had a taste of what I could do with a cock. Of course he’d realize right away which of us was better!

Right now, though, Master was fucking her tits, grunting furiously as he plunged between those huge white mounds. Rhoda was still clearly pretty out of it, but also into it, gasping and moaning until he suddenly came all over her face and ti—no, you know what, those things were too big to be tits. He came all over her face and gazongas.

He straightened up, still panting, while Rhoda lay on the ground, her gazongas rising and falling with her heavy breathing. Other than that, she was completely still, staring blankly up at the sky while Master turned to stare at me and Ardatlili. Even though he just came, his cock was still huge and hard and straight, pointing right at me.

“Clothes off and get on your back,” he snapped at me.

I scrambled to obey, shedding everything in record time before I lay back in the mud. My hair’s gonna—obey Master fuck Master obey fuck obey fuck... I groaned and spread my legs for him, trembling in anticipation, unable to think of anything else but his huge cock approaching me.

In me.

Fucking me.

My legs around his waist, my back arching, Master leaning over me while he pounded away, filling the yawning gulf where the melted remains of my brain used to be.

I screamed as I came. Then I gasped for breath as I came a second time. Then I could only hold on and moan while I came a third time.

After the fifth time I came, Master dropped me to the ground. I sprawled like a ragdoll while he stood and glared at Ardatlili.

She just stood there. I’d dropped her leash ages ago, and she hadn’t moved at all, even though her legs had been free since we set out to attack Rhoda. She just watched and said nothing while Master fucked me.

“You,” he said, his voice unsteady and parched-sounding. “You’re doing this to me.”

“You are the Master here...” she purred. “My Mistress belongs to you. I do as well. If mortal slaves cannot satisfy you, simply give the order and I will obey. Whatever you desire shall be yours.”

“...I told you,” Master said with difficulty. “I know what you are. I know better than to f...” he licked his lips. “Than to fuck a succubus.”

“You have all the power here,” she replied. “Ardatlili of the Lilim is your slave to use as you will. Why be denied pleasure? Why should anyone with power such as yours not experience everything he desires?” Her voice shifted, from purr to whimper. “Please, Master... I want only to please you. To be yours. Take me!”

With a growl he snapped his fingers. The vines dissolved. I caught a quick glimpse of Ardatlili, her dress shredded by thorns, little slivers of perfect skin showing between ragged strips of cloth that barely clung to her, looking like they were about to reveal everything at any second. I had just enough time to fuzzily remember that the vines didn’t even have thorns, and then Master was on her, bearing her down to the ground and tearing off what was left of her dress.

I half sat up as best I could. Shit, I have to stop—trust Master. But there’s no way he can keep his soul aftrust Master. Trust Master. I didn’t need to interfere while they rolled around in the mud.

Finally Master lay on his back, fucking up into Ardatlili while she straddled him, one hand on his torso and the other on the ground, supporting her while she arched back. Her hair flew while her perfect breasts bounced, every gleaming inch of her perfect body perfectly clean despite rolling in the mud just minutes ago.

Master gazed up at her, his face utterly blissful. She shifted her hips, and he cried out in ecstasy, shuddering as he came and came. I watched in awe. I’d never seen someone cum as long as Master did.

And then...

Ardatlili sighed in pleasure, eyes closed. Then she licked her lips. “It’s been too long,” she purred. “I nearly forgot how delicious a powerful soul can be.” She rose to her feet, cum dribbling down her leg. She stepped aside, and Brochen rose quietly beside her.

“Lemma,” he said. “Obey Ardatlili from now on.”

Obey Master, I thought. Obey Ardat—no! I shook my head, trying to think straight. Obey Master. He said to—but he—obey Master, obey Ar—no! But Master said to obey Ar—no, that’s not—obey Master.

I gazed up at them in horror. I was helpless. I had to obey Master. His will was more important than mine, and now Ardatlili had devoured it.

“Rise,” Ardatlili ordered.

I stood slowly, a smile spreading across my face.

“I will take special pleasure in corrupting you,” Ardatlili said. “I will make it long and slow, until you beg for me to claim your soul as I have your Master’s. Your last act of your own will shall be to kneel before me and plead with me to take you.”

She devoured Master’s will. Which meant Master’s will didn’t exist anymore. Which meant... “Hmm, I’d rather not,” I said, and blasted her with every ounce of fire I could get ahold of.

Mid-tier lust demons turn out to be a lot less sturdily built than semi-major wrath demons. Ardatlili screamed and went up like a torch.

Brochen’s body stepped forward, his eyes blazing. “You little bitch! You think destroying one of my bodies will stop me from breaking you?” he shouted. Or, well, his voice shouted, but it wasn’t his anymore, was it? His body, his mind, his breath, but there was no him anymore to own those things. It was just Ardatlili now.

His will didn’t exist. And if it didn’t exist, that wasn’t his voice, it was hers. Which meant it didn’t echo, didn’t drown my thoughts. I was free. Free to pull down the magic of the sky, free to pull up the magic of the earth. I pointed at Ardatlili in Brochen’s body. “When you get to hell, be sure to tell the other demons my name. Tell them...” I paused, trying to decide exactly what to say. “Tell them that next time one of them comes after me or mine, I won’t stop at banishing them.“

Lightning crashed from the sky, crackled around me, and then leapt from my finger to Brochen. He—I mean Ardatlili!—screamed in agony. “Arrogant mortal!” he—she—shrieked. “I’ll be back, and when I do...!” And then Brochen’s blackened corpse fell to the ground, and she was gone.

* * *

“So by my count,” Iason said, counting on his fingers, “that’s an Old One, the Queen of Summer, probably the King of Winter, and possibly the god-king of Munn?”

“You forgot Red,” I said.

“Oh, right,” he replied. “A cannibal Fair Folk serial killer. And now a demon. Possibly all the demons. Is that everyone?“

“So far!” I chirped cheerily.

“What are you listing?” asked Rhoda, pulling on her pack. She’d decided to strike camp as soon as we were all awake and back in our own heads, so all three of us were getting ready to set out once more.

“Cosmically powerful supernatural entities that Lemma’s pissed off,” Iason answered.

“Ah,” she said. “That’s, um... quite a list.”

I shrugged. “Not my fault they keep getting in my way.”

“The Lords and Ladies were totally your fault,” said Iason.

“Were not!”

Rhoda sighed. “Anyway, our deal stands. Here’s that book.”

She handed me the book solemnly. “So does this mean you’re done with demons?” I asked.

“You kidding? I had that book memorized before I was ten!”

“Rhoda,” Iason said sternly. “The demon you summoned nearly got us!”

Rhoda sighed. “I know. I’ve gotta be more careful. And I’m definitely never summoning her again!” She struck a pose that I think she meant to be looking nobly into the future, but she mostly just seemed constipated. “But so long as there are innocent villagers in need of defense from the evils of the world, I, Rhoda the Mighty, greatest warlock in Alba, shall turn evil against itself to protect them!” She grinned at us. “Whaddaya think? Catchy, right? I’ve been thinking about how you’d never heard of me, and I figured a good slogan would help get people talking.“

I resisted the urge to bury my face in my palms.

“...so,” said Iason after a while. “Where you headed?”

“North,” she replied. “Bandits have been raiding a half dozen villages. You?”

Iason turned to me, and I closed my eyes. “South,” I said. ”Really south.“

“South?” He sounded surprised. “We started in the south and we’ve been working our way north, how can there be a book to the south? Did we miss one?”

I shrugged. “The closest book is far to the south, that’s all I know,” I said. “Breizht maybe, or Kyrno? And I guess it’s possible we missed one. I’m getting better at sensing them. I couldn’t do it at all before we found the first one, and with every one we’ve found since, well... It’s possible someone had it hidden away, but whatever they did to hide it doesn’t work on me now?” I didn’t mention the other possibility—that it wasn’t the nearest lost book until just now. Because if that was true...

Well, we’d worry about that if and when it came to it. I slapped Iason on the back and turned south.

After all, it’s not like I had any shortage of things to worry about. The book Rhoda gave us was Demonology for Beginners, which meant we came this close to disaster with demons students learned to summon. What could happen if whoever had the Book of Agrat decided to actually use it?

Hopefully I wouldn’t find out. But maybe it was time to do what I’d been debating with myself about doing for weeks. Tonight, I was going to start reading The Rite of Uncreation.

* * *