ELARA / KIZAUI GUISEAS

Octavia sighed sadly at the birthday cake on a plate in front of her. It was white with pink-rimmed frosting on the three layers. Two large orange candles on the top made up an “18.” The cake had been made by the imp butlers and the royal family cook. Octavia had her black feathery hair in a ponytail and her eyes glowed pink. She wore a small gold crown on her head and a new bluish-white dress with starry sparkles on it. She wore a black choker collar around her neck.

The princess recalled her previous birthdays: happily blowing out candles on a cake when she turned 13, smiling with Stolas next to her, opening presents with him, her as a little kid with both her parents giving her hugs…

Now she was all alone, a teen entering adulthood. No singing nor acknowledgement from her mother nor uncle. After the imp servants sang to her in the empty dining room, she dismally blew out the candles.

Stolas was still exiled from the Goetia family for the illegal use of his grimoire to help the imps enter the human world, neglecting his astronomy duties and for associating with a lower-class imp. Ever since their last fight during Sinsmas, Octavia had tried to distract herself from any thoughts about her Dad. She would drown out her tears with rock music from her iPad.

She would sing somberly in the privacy of her room with her guitar on her lap.

“No, I am not okay,

No, I am not okay today

If I had the perfect Dad

He’d still be here to ease my fear, ooh

If the imp is who you’d fight to save

If facing court made you feel brave

Do you still feel genuine and kind

After you left me behind?

I need you now more than ever before

But because of you, I shut the door

You and Blitz are distant stars

And I won’t see you anymore

“No, I am not okay,

No, I am not okay today

Where did you go?

Why are you far away?

Mother never cared for me

I’m an asset, something temporary

As they dress me up like a porcelain doll

I wonder where you are after your fall.

Are you happy with him now, Dad?

In a life outside these walls?

I try to reach you, hear you

But Mother blocks the calls

If I could see your face one last time

To give me some hope in this nightmare

Please give me a sign, Dad, that you’re okay

A sign you truly care…”

Stolas had reached out desperately to her, begging for her forgiveness and love.

Now it was too late. Octavia wasn’t sure she could endure Stella’s mocking taunts about her father’s exile and her hideous shrieks of “Hilarious!” much longer.

“I’m better off without him,” she thought. “He nearly gave up his life for that stupid imp lover of his. And maybe I am just an extra burden to him.”

She sadly chewed her piece of cake. It tasted too sweet…like a pathetic attempt to hide the bitter flavor of her day.

Draped in teal robes with white fur, Andrealphus the peacock marquis was bragging about his giant self-portraits in the halls and his ice statues that gleamed and posed in the lifeless garden outside. Without Stolas and his plants around, Octavia’s home no longer felt warm and familial. The castle had become a cavernous cage.

Octavia stared at her empty plate and the imp servant took it away.

“Octavia!”

Octavia snapped up as she stared at Stella. Stella wore a frilly pink dress, a pearl necklace and a golden crown on her head.

“Oh good, you’re finished and now eighteen,” she said with a sway. “Now without that pathetic excuse of a prince, it’s time to begin!”

She clapped her hands and several imp servants led Octavia to her dressing room. There, she sat in front of a large ornate mirror as the female imps did her hair, curled her eyelashes, smoothed her sparkly dress, and tightened her undergarments. Her black high heels felt like knives digging into her feet.

She practiced, posed, and praised for what felt like hours.

“Stand up straight and tall, girl!” Stella called as Octavia practiced her elegant walk. “Straight face, gaze with a hint of sternness and authority. Do not show any weakness or immaturity. Just because you’re a bratty teen doesn’t mean you get to ruin my reputation more than it already is!”

Later, Octavia watched in shock as Stella stormed into her room and began to tear down some of Octavia’s old gothic rock band posters.

“This shit needs to go. And this childish junk! Out with this! And this!”

Globes, telescopes, taxidermized animals and drawings clattered to the bedroom floor.

“This is my room!” Octavia protested.

“And this is my palace!” Stella replied with her hands on her hips.

Andrealphus cleared his throat from behind her.

“Erm, me and my moronic brother’s. And as the next heir, I will not allow your mind to be steered off the proper track. Ugh, what in the nine circles is this…?”

“HEY! THAT WAS ONE OF MY FIRST COLLECTABLES!” Octavia stormed over to where Stella was holding a taxidermized brown owl.

“Oh, ho, ho! This old thing looks like something Stolas shat out!” Stella guffawed. “Aside from you of course.” She tossed it behind her into a trash can and two servants carried it off.

Stella was about to reach for Octavia’s guitar and some of old drawings…

“No proper princess has need of those…”

“NO!” Octavia cried, darting in front. “No, mother, please!”

Stella smirked at Octavia’s aghast face. “Perhaps I’ll let you keep those things…and maybe even your phone if you follow my instructions!”

Octavia fumed and folded her arms. “Fine!”

“Consider this your inevitable punishment for daring to fight against me!” Andrealphus warned. “Which reminds me…”

Octavia then found herself partially frozen to a chair as Andrealphus instructed her on magic and astronomy.

“You need to bring your magic under control,” he told her.

Octavia broke free of the ice as a purple and black magic burst from her hands. But she relented as Stella tauntingly held Octavia’s guitar over the open outside window.

“Mortal destinies are not always set in stone,” Andrealphus lectured as Octavia studied maps and diagrams. “When Mars conflicts with Uranus, expect rises in battles and technology. And be sure to be extra careful during solar and lunar eclipses as magic can be unpredictable. When you track the infernal comets across the sky…”

He sneered as she began to doze off, “…it points to disaster for those who don’t pay attention!”

Octava would have been relieved to be free of her uncle’s icy grip if not for the most grueling parts of the afternoon.

“Pinky finger raised up as you sip your cup of tea,” Stella instructed. “Let the higher ups speak first, wait for your permission to speak. Do not instigate war or conflict…consider what is best for King Paimon and the majority of the Goetia. You’ll be taking over Stolas’ duties to read the stars and his possessions…”

Greed flashed in Stella’s eyes. “…must be secured in the right hands.”

“And might I add that with Stolas stripped of his powers, someone worthy enough will need to be a suitable new prince?” Andrealphus bragged.

“You’ll always be a mere marquis,” Stella cut in. “The Goetia don’t need any gay Elsas.”

“You’re such an old cow!” Andrealphus mocked his sister. “Without your marriage to Stolas, you’re not even an official Goetia! Your moody daughter’s your best hope at the moment!” He chuckled as Stella fumed.

Stella leaned in close to Octavia and hissed. “And that is why for everyone’s sake, she will not…mess…things…up.”

Octavia gulped.

Law, fashion, magic, diplomacy, meetings, etiquette…it went on and on.

But after all of the instruction was finished, Octavia didn’t think things could get worse.

The rotary phone rang from the kitchen. A butler brought it over to Stella. Stella smiled, thinking it was one of her friends she gossiped with.

“Hello!”

Stella then froze. “Oh, King Paimon, my Lord, you have news.”

Octavia froze as well. Her heart beat in her chest and her gut became heavy with dread.

“Please, please don’t let him be dead…” she muttered.

“Yes, Stolas is still alive, banished, good riddance,” Stella replied. “Oh no, no,” she laughed nervously. “Those rumors about me hiring a hitman to kill him, toss them aside. We may not get along, but I’d never do something like that. In fact…”

Stella froze. “Oh, sorry, sir. Continue. Yes, my daughter is now eighteen. Yes, I’m training her as we speak. She’ll be ready.”

Her face turned pale and for a moment, Octavia saw her hands shake and her voice quiver. “Yes, sir, I know what comes next. I’ll tell her. Preparations will be in order like you say. Okay, thank you, my Lord, I’ll let her know. Good night.”

Stella slammed the phone and took a shaking breath. She shoved aside an imp servant. The silence was as icy as Andrealphus’ décor.

Without a word, Stella led Octavia toward a large full-body mirror. Octavia hardly recognized the shaken dolled up princess standing in front of her. Gone was the starry dress and the black worn jacket and the black beanie she always wore. Her crown already felt heavy on her head.

And…was that pity in Stella’s eyes for a moment?!

“Octavia…” she said. “There is still one more thing to know, now that you’re of age. Along with astronomy, magic and duties, you’ll also be going through the same rite of passage that me and Stolas did…”

Octavia’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, fuck, no, it can’t be…marriage?!”

“An arranged, marriage, yes,” Stella couldn’t hide a scowl. “I was arranged to your father when I was your age. You remind me of him at that age: gothic, rebellious, head in your dark clouds. So ridiculous! I produced an heir, which was you. I raised you and saw that Stolas did his work. I followed every rule to the letter…and look where it got me. An abandoned heartbroken wife whose dignity is at risk of being dragged through the mud.”

She smoothed out Octavia’s dress.

“King Paimon has decided that in one week, you will meet your future husband…and move in with him…and make another heir like me…”

“NO, NO, I WON’T DO IT!” Octavia stepped back. She clenched her fists.

Stella raised her hand to slap her but paused. “DON’T YOU GET IT, BRAT? YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CHOICE! To keep Stolas’ grimoire, continue his legacy, to stay a Goetia, you must adhere to the traditions that have kept Hell burning for centuries. Do you want both of us exiled like garbage? Ridiculed and stripped of our powers like that asshole Stolas?”

“DON’T CALL HIM THAT! HE’S MY DAD!”

“NOT ANYMORE, HE’S NOT!”

Octavia shook and Stella gripped her shoulder. “You have to face the hard truth, dear. Royal life was too much for him, so he cheated. He made his choice to run off with the imp and abandon us. Abandon you.”

Stella wiped a tear from Octavia’s eye.

“He was willing to die to live a life without you. I’m your mother. Like me or not, I’m all you have left. There is nowhere else for you to go. No safe place, no friends, nowhere.”

Silence. Octavia knew she was right.

Stella held Octavia’s hand. “I hate this as much as you do. But it is up to you whether you want to follow my lead or bear the burden alone.”

But if she could somehow find a way to escape…

“And don’t think of running away!” Andrealphus mentioned. “I’ve been practicing making ice walls and spells.”

A picture appeared on a table in a flash of golden magic. Paimon’s sigil was on the back. Stella took it and gasped.

Stella sighed, turning back to her daughter. “Don’t delay the inevitable, Octavia. Stolas is gone. He’s never coming back. You are never to interact with those common imps ever again.”

Stella pulled out a picture and Octavia reeled back in disgust.

“Paimon sent me this. This is Balal, son of Prince Gaap. After Stolas’ embarrassing betrayal, perhaps a bonding of families will help keep things stable for a while.”

A young black crow demon stood with a mischievous grin on his face. He wore a black suit and green tie, a gold crown and his eyes glowed red. He held a glass of wine in one hand and a scepter in the other. Next to him were books, but not the astronomy, astrology and plant books Octavia adored. They were books on dark magic, poisonous plants, wealth and pranks.

Stella sighed.

“Best hope that he’ll treat you right and not cheat like your father did. At best, I can help you use your magic for self-defense. As long as you follow the rules…just know I won’t be responsible for your safety much longer…”

A life without Stolas, Stella and Andrealphus? Forced to bear her own child and drown herself in duties until dying forgotten?

 Octavia stared helplessly at Stella, her lips trembling. Stella’s mouth curled up into a grin as she stroked Octavia under her chin.

“You’re going to be a great Queen soon.”

On Blitzo’s desk, there was a flier that showed a red-faced imp with a white beard and a mohawk of white hair, resembling Bob Ross. He smiled with a thumbs up and held paint brushes in his hand. Behind him was his painting of Hell’s red sky and jagged rocks. The flier read: “Art Classes, all levels, learn the basics.”

“Hei, Stolas, For Teh Riport” was misspelled and scribbled on a piece of paper. Stolas flipped through the pages. Blitzo drew himself using his crystal to go to Earth. In a thought bubble, Blitzo imagined a red horse with a white chef’s hat. He wrote “Me” with an arrow pointing to him on a building roof with a sniper rifle. Another one of his drawn faces smiled and winked. The next page showed Blitzo cheering as he aimed at a frowning human. A horse looked at a “reztorant” sign. The last page showed Blitzo with a hat on his head and a cane in his hand. Two horses kissed while holding menus and Loona was scribbled next to them. The human face looked dead and he held a bowl. He had also scribbled Walley Wackford, Moxxie, Millie and a firecracker rocket.

Stolas frowned with wide eyes as he lowered the pages.

“What is this?” he asked. He took his purple feathered quill and wrote in his fanfiction journal. He crossed out several lines near a drawing of one of his flowers with an eye in the center.

Stolas leaned back and sighed in defeat.

“Your Highness?”

Moxxie came around the corner, holding a drink in his hand. “You doing okay?”

“Uh, hardly,” Stolas replied with another sigh. “Blitz asked me to write a follow-up report for him, but this is all he gave me to work with.” He held out the papers.

He handed them to Moxxie. “I have no idea what these are supposed to mean.”

Moxxie looked them over and smiled. He beamed. “Well, you can just write whatever you want. The truth here is less important than the entertainment value.”

He handed the papers back.

“What? What do you mean?” Stolas asked.

“Truth be told, the only reason we do these reports for the client is so they tell everyone what great assassins we are. So, the better the story, the better we look.” Moxxie finished with a wink.

“Really?”

Moxxie looked at Stolas’ book. “Let me see what you have so far.”

He recited, “Upon entering the human world, Blitz acquired visual confirmation of the first target outside a restaurant…”

Blitzo’s drawings included a smiling white pony standing next to the door, hanging lanterns, a cardboard ramen bowl and “YUM YUM!” on the entrance of the “Restorant.” The target was a guy with blonde hair in a wave.

“…He observed the target eating a bowl of spicy noodles topped with fatty pork, mushrooms, seaweed, green onion, ground nuts, and a seasoned soft-boiled egg. He also had an order of dumplings. He ordered an extra side of sauce. He also ordered…”

“Seriously?” Moxxie asked, puzzled. “What, what is this?”

“I’m just trying to be as accurate and through as possible,” Stolas replied, holding up another page of a cartoon horse with a bowl of ramen.

“Oh, Your Highness, No, no, no. The client doesn’t want to hear about this.” He pointed to his head. “You got to use your imagination. Spice it up a little, like a novel.”

“Oh, oh I see,” Stolas brightened. “Okay, so perhaps he wasn’t eating lunch alone.”

The person next to the drawing of the target switched from a cartoon Vivziepop to a clown, a fish with hairy legs, a dog, a bee, a person with an airplane head, an old lady, a hippo, a lightbulb, and dozens of people.

“Maybe he was eating lunch with…a friend?”

The drawing showed the target next to a smiling guy wearing a black jacket and bangs.

“Um, sure, sure,” said Moxxie, “but let’s take it a little farther, maybe? Like what if this friend had a gun?”

The cartoon man in the leather jacket grinned as he held out his weapon.

“A gun?” asked a Stolas drawing next to a drawing of Moxxie.

“All stories are better with a gun,” Moxxie pointed and snapped his fingers. “He has it because he’s the target’s former partner from his old life of crime.”

“Right, right, I see,” Stolas nodded. “And this partner and him shared more than just a life of crime. They shared a secret passion only they knew about.”

The two men smiled seductively with their faces close-up in anime style, fingers on their cheeks.

“There you go, now you’re getting into it,” Moxxie praised.

Stolas continued. “This is the first time they’ve seen each other since those long-forgotten days. The tension proved to be too much…and they pounced on each other right there on the table in front of everyone!”

The cartoon men intertwined their fingers together and did French kissing as they made out on the table.

“Yes,” Stolas breathed.

“Sex sells,” Moxxie exclaimed. “This is good!”

“The force of their passion cannot be restricted, and an attractive hunk waiter approaches them.”

Moxxie waved his hand back in the present. “Stolas, loving this. But for pacing, we should probably get to the kill.”

“Right,” Stolas paused before straightening himself up. “Right.”

“The partners in crime left to go claim their buried fortune from years ago.”

The two men grinned, held hands and held their shovels.

Back in reality, Moxxie put his fingers to his chin.

“What?” asked Stolas. “You don’t like buried treasure?”

“It’s not that,” he replied. “It’s just that we need some more immediate action to make the boss look good. How about…”

Moxxie narrated, “A gunshot rings out…”

“Another gun?” asked Stolas.

“Trust me. Trust the process,” Moxxie smiled.

“A gunshot rang out and the target’s lover fell over dead.”

“No!” cried the drawing of the target as he sobbed over the man’s bleeding body.

Moxxie continued. “Blitz looked for the source of the shot and found a man with a rifle perched along an adjoining rooftop. ‘Who could that man be?’ Blitz wondered to himself. ‘Why would he shoot that man?’ But the time for wondering was not this time now. Blitz wasn’t about to let someone steal his kill. He leapt across the rooftops toward the gunman. But oh no! The hitman spotted him and turned the rifle his way! Blitz quickly dodged as bullets whizzed by his head and when he saw an opening, he fired at the snipper, hitting him in the shoulder and sending him over the side of the roof! Blitz chuckled to himself, toughly. ‘Heheheheh, that one’s on the house!’

The cartoon Blitz twirled his weapon.

“Oh, Blitz said that?” Stolas asked.

“No, we’re embellishing, remember?” Moxxie mentioned. “Writing Blitz as a cool action star is the only reason we’re still in business.”

“Oh, yes, I see, I see,” said Stolas.

“So then, just then, Blitz heard a yell from below. The target was being kidnapped by masked men! Blitz made his way to the street, using his rippling muscles and ninja-like parkour skills.”

“Ooh nice touch,” Moxxie complimented.

“Just as the target was being pushed into the van, Blitz fired his mighty grappling hook.”

“Good use of gadgets,” said Moxxie.

“Thank you,” said Stolas. He went on. “The hook found purchase on the rear bumper, and as the van speed off, Blitz was dragged after them, he held on courageously.”

“Perilous.”

“Blitz pulled himself slowly but surely up the rope all the while dodging a box, a bowling ball, a traffic cone and various easy to draw obstacles. Finally, he makes it to the car and climbs onto the roof.

‘What’s that?’ one of the men says suspiciously. ‘A problem?’ said the driver. Then the thugs all pulled out two guns each!”

“Yeah, see?” Moxxie smiled. “Guns fucking rock.”

A cartoon Moxxie and Stolas rode on a motorcycle, Stolas in a side car.

“Yes, I feel it,” Stolas grinned. “Anyway…the thugs all fired through the roof. Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew! Forcing Blitz to masterfully dodge once again. Blitz then threw himself onto the hood of the van, brandishing his own gun, and said…”

Stolas lay on the couch with his book on his chest. “Oh, I need a good one-liner for when he shoots them.”

“Oh, oh,” Moxxie piped up. “How about…’You should’ve obeyed the laws of the road, muchacho?!’”

Stolas sat and up smiled.

“Blitz fired into the car, killing the driver and then cartwheeled to safety as the van crashed…and exploded! He reached in and masculinely pulled from the wreckage his target somehow unharmed. Blitz retrieved from his coat his knife to finish the job.”

The cartoon Blitz slammed the tied-up man to the ground and hovered over him.

“’Please,’ the target begged. ‘I’ll do anything you want.’

Blitz just looked at him assassinatingly…”

“Wait, that’s not a word,” Moxxie mentioned.

Stolas shrugged and continued. “…and said, ‘I want you to die, hombre.’ And he dove the knife into his chest.”

“Wait, wait, wait, we can’t just finish there,” Moxxie advised. “What about the dangling plot threads? Why was he being kidnapped?”

Stolas moved his quill. “Hmm, yeah. Okay. Uh…just as Blitz’s knife begins to fall, a gunshot rang out, knocking the knife from his hand. Blitz looks up to find the sniper from earlier, who hadn’t been killed after all. ‘Who are you and why did you kidnap?’ Blitz exclaims curiously.

‘Someone who loves this man very much,’ the man replies. The sniper pulls off their mask to reveal themselves. It was the very man who had had lunch with the target! DUN, DUN, DUN!

‘How can this be?!’ cried Blitz. ‘I saw you get shot by you.’

“The sniper looks back at Blitz with piercing eyes. ‘That man was not me. It was but my evil twin. DUN, DUN, DUN!”

“Really?” Moxxie asked back in the office. He munched on a doughnut as Stolas took a tea bag from a steaming mug.

“What?” Stolas asked. “Evil twins are a classic.”

“Well, there’s a fine line between classic and cliché,” Moxxie explained. “How about a little something less convoluted like…”

“’You can’t kill him,’ the gunman said. ‘We need him to lead us to where he buried the loot from the last job he pulled with the partner we killed who was railing him on that table in front of the Tuesday lunch crowd.’”

“See how it all ties together now?” asked a satisfied Moxxie.

Stolas smirked as he sipped his coffee from Blitzo’s horse mug. “Oh, so you did enjoy the buried treasure?”

He sipped. “So, how do we end it?”

In an anticlimactic twist, as the gunman and Blitzo glared at each other, the cartoon Blitzo fired at him and shot him in the chest. Then he shot the tied-up target and both men were dead. Proud of a job well done, Blitzo rubbed his crystal and headed through the portal back to his office.

Moxxie smiled and flopped onto the couch. “Yeah, sometimes it’s better to not overstay your welcome.”

Stolas finished writing and then closed his book with his hand.

Stolas sighed in relief. “Well, I must say that was more fun than expected. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, I guess we do, don’t we?” Moxxie added. They gave each other friendly smiles.

“Do you have any other reports that need punching up?” asked Moxxie.

“No, but I do have other writings, uh, personal projects that I suppose you could take a look at if you were so inclined,” Stolas responded. “Assuming you don’t mind them slanting a bit more…mature?”

Moxxie smirked and pointed. “Your Highness, you writing porn?”

“Well, I prefer to call it erotica,” Stolas said, “but yes, I’m writing porn.”

“That is so nice,” said Moxxie. “I’d love to help.” He stood up. “Did you know that erotic fiction is the highest growing subgenre of literature on the market today? I always thought of writing something myself, but I’m really more skilled as an editor.” He sat on Stolas’ desk. “So, if we work together with our natural chemistry, I bet we can make something that really shakes up the space. Let me see what you have.”

Stolas happily handed his book to Moxxie who opened it and began to read. The two of them enjoyed their time on the floor, drawing, writing, scribbling and brainstorming together. Stolas felt thankful to have a new friend…it could be quite lonely during his days without his daughter Octavia and his lover Blitzo around. They drew guns, a phantom of the opera mask with horns, a ringed planet, a drawing of Stolas, flowers, leaves, Moxxie, Millie with hearts around her head, a smiling child Octavia, the grimoire, the eel from the “Whacked Off” short, a playbill poster, Moxxie and Millie doing a Titanic love pose, a comet, musical notes, Blitzo’s knife, Octavia with music records, “Millie time” Millie with her ax and many more.