Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

unacceptable. Milos' voice, cool and clipped, played in his memory, "No such effect is possible, because there is limited potential. Stronger powers cannot be employed as there is no manner by which to harness their essences."
    Mechanists were all so purely scientific and narrow. Melizander believed— no, knew— it was possible to create larger, more complex machines, machines that would accomplish marvelous things. If he could make use of highly developed daemonic essences. To obtain those he needed to resort to daemonology— for what had once been black magic was now commonplace and would be his guide to proving his father wrong. But only if he found the book.
    ****
    Ashtariel held William close as the young man screamed, releasing his pent-up need. The nobleman had been resistant and had determinedly withheld his surrender, believing his silence proved his strength. But Ashe had known better; employing skills and powers, both physical and supernatural, strove to provide William true liberation. Ultimately the young man let go his repressed desires and actually submitted, gave in to what he required of himself. Now the lordling's cries subsided to hiccoughy moans, and Ashe stroked William's brow. "Good boy, but such resistance is not necessary." As a reward he would allow William to— Ashe felt a sudden tingling along his spine.
    A whiff of brimstone preceded the draft of air that fluttered the candles, as someone— or something— materialized in the room. The daemon quickly pressed a hand to William's head, urging him to sleep. A dark mass of shadows grew in the corner, stealing the light of the candles, and coalesced, taking on form and substance. Ashtariel recognized the armorial insignia of Decimius, his father's adjutant.
    " Ave, Domine Ashtariel! " The daemon lieutenant saluted then leered at the naked youth asleep beside Ashe. " Video esse occupatus ."
    "Of course, I'm busy, you great oaf!" Ashe hissed at the interloper, who in his mortal life had been a Roman general responsible for one or two small incidents of genocide. "What's the meaning of simply appearing unannounced like that?"
    "Your father sent me. He wishes to see you."
    Ashe let out a very human sigh. He did not wish to meet with Lord Nox; his father was always demanding and his demands could be so… well… so infernal. But putting him off would only exacerbate the difficulty of the eventual conversation. "Very well." He rose from the bed. "I shall make a brief appearance in Dis."
    Decimius continued to eye William. "If you would like, I can keep your pet occupied while you are away."
    "He is not a pet, and I would like that he remain alive, so I will most certainly not leave you with him!" Ashe flicked a hand and a blanket appeared, covering William.
    Decimius snorted in disgust. "It is abhorrent how you care for these mortals. You—"
    "Enough!" Ashtariel held up a hand that now sported long talons, hard and shiny like chips of obsidian. "Do not begin to presume, Decimius." Ashe stepped away from the young human and rolled his shoulders, stretching as the air about him began to shimmer, and revealed large wings, glossy-dark and raven-like. He unfurled them, reveling in the almost forgotten, yet oddly comforting, feel of his true physical form. "Let's get this over with."
    The two daemons disappeared with a soft pop , as William slumbered unaware of his brush with Hades.
    ****
    Frustration and disappointment pounded at the artificer's brain. With a groan Melizander lay back, the rough stone tiles poking at his shoulder blades. Resting his head on a forearm, he reconsidered his thought process. Something is amiss . But what? There were no other rooms; he had been through all of them. The book room had been the most heavily warded, which served no purpose if the book was not here. There had been no evidence of tampering— the locks had been pristine— so no one had stolen it before him. So, the logical conclusion was that it was here— and he had simply not found it… yet.
    From his position on the floor, Melizander ran his gaze over the small space, finally taking a long look at the ceiling. The stones were oddly shaped and strangely arranged, seemingly pieced together from random bits rather than the uniform pieces which characterized the rest of the construction. Rolling to his knees, Melizander grabbed the lantern and crawled out into the passage to examine its roofing. Yes! The closet's was different!
    Reenergized, the artificer