Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

climbed the shelves, kicking aside scrolls and tracts. He wedged himself against the topmost shelf and began to poke and prod at the ceiling. Nothing moved… not an inch, not a hair. Damn! He brushed away cobwebs, hoping to see some mark or clue, but the stones were unmarked. Nor, however, were they even, which struck Melizander as odd for such an otherwise well-executed construction.
    He pulled the lamp nearer and that was when he noticed the shadow. The oblique illumination cast the shape of the numeral 3 against the adjacent stones. Three? What could that possibly mean? There were three sides to a triangle; three states of matter: solid, liquid, and gas; three primary colors: red, green, and blue; all sorts of triads. He needed some— any— context.
    Melizander panned the light to the left and found nothing. Moving to the right, the light revealed a 1 and a 4 . 314? Or… 3 plus 1 equaled 4! What type a clue was that? He still needed more.
    Further along his lamp revealed another 1 , a 5 , followed by a 9 , then nothing more. So… what did he have? 3… 1… 4… 1… 5… 9. Could they mean 314,159? That did not appear to be meaningful. A series maybe? 3 plus 1 did equal 4, but 1 plus 4 equaled 5, not 1. So, not a series. Although the next group did make sense since 4 plus 1 equaled 5. And 4 plus 5 would equal 9. But how did any of that relate?
    Maybe… 31, 41, 59? Again, nonsense. 314, 159? Close— if it were 314, 157.
    Melizander racked his brain. Something about the group of numerals was familiar. Then it hit him. Pi! The ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter! 3 point 1 4 1 5 9! He needed a decimal point!
    Quickly Melizander repositioned the lamp and looked for a shadow dot. There was none. But that had to be the clue— he was sure of it. Proceeding in a regular fashion, the artificer firmly pressed each tiled piece between the 3 and the 1 . Finally, with a soft snick , one stone gave way, sliding upward as part of a larger panel. The section of ceiling swiveled to the side to reveal a compartment above the closet. Melizander shook his head. Secrets hidden within riddles wrapped in mysteries.
    ****
    The thick oily waters of Acheron lay behind them as Ashtariel and Decimius passed over the countless, black metal tombs of the heretics. Before them stretched the Iron City of Dis, sprawled across the fiery landscape like an ancient whore upon a rocky couch. An ebony phallus pierced the blood-red horizon; the Archduke's Iron Tower, dominating the skyline, was visible from every corner of this plane. The daemons' goal lay not there but at the white marble palace of Lord Nox. Ashtariel laughed to himself as they landed before the mausoleum-like structure: Humans associated the color white with purity. They should see this place . Ashe's ancestral home was the pasty white of maggots, the bloodless, pale hue of dead flesh.
    Unquestioned, Ashtariel and his escort strode through the corridors to Nox' war room, the most likely place to find his sire. Passing between great oak doors, they found Nox seated at a large granite table surrounded by his lieutenants. While Decimius stopped and saluted, Ashtariel strode forward.
    "Greetings, Father! How have you decided to interfere in my life now?"
    The general glanced at his officers and nodded toward the doors. "Leave us!" Nox rose from his chair and walked to the window that overlooked the ash-colored city. "Discourteous and headstrong, as usual. You are such your mother's child."
    "How is Mother by the by?"
    "The whore has taken up with Asmodeus! May she gag on his gigantic black prick! Which, given her more than adequate skills, is unlikely. Hah!"
    Ashtariel was accustomed to his parents' volatile and ever-changing relationship. Rarely were their words to or of each other kind. "So she is well." The younger daemon joined his sire at the window. Dis spread before them; in the distance Ashtariel discerned Charon's ferry plying its way along the slow-moving, fetid Styx. The vista depressed him.
    Nox clasped his hands behind his back and addressed the landscape. "I have decided that it is time for you to advance your training. You have dallied enough amongst the hu—"
    "Dallied?" Ashe interrupted. "I am an incubus! It is my purview to incite lust and perversion!"
    "You are a Prince of Hell and should make your mark upon the world!" The general turned to glare at his quarrelsome progeny. "Not simply fuck your way through the mortal populace!"
    Ashtariel met