KatWac

“Well… erm… I’ll admit I stole these clothes,” I say, crossing the room and resting my arms on the back of the chair that sits opposite Raphael’s desk. “And the knives. And some invisibility potions. Although, for what it’s worth, I waited in the boudoir for a while before I left. And I did ask permission- no one was there to answer, though.”

“You did, didn’t you? How adorably juvenile.” Raphael says with a little smile, sensing my honesty there, “But that is not the only crime you’ve committed recently, is it?” “What else could I possibly have done, Raphael?” I ask, trying to sound innocently exasperated, “And anyway, you told me you would give me a chance to talk about Hope. I took your punishment, did I not?”

“You know, you are more of a weasel than a mouse at times.” Raphael says, sounding almost impressed, “I perhaps underestimate your ability to sneak and wriggle out of answering any direct question, but for now, be it: what is your concern with Hope?” He asks, reclining into his chair, suddenly all business.

“She has to be let free! She’s kept like a caged animal and tortured for no reason! It’s sadistic!”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten where you are, my dear…”

“But she’s not a client, is she? Has she ever made a deal with you?”

“No, she has not, though I’ve provided ample opportunities during her residency here. Hope, much like your fine self, is collateral.”

“The deal was with Korilla, wasn’t it? Why is Korilla not locked in chains and surrounded by beholders?”

“Hope has been given the chance to switch roles with Korilla many, many times over the years and always declines. If you do not believe me, we can even pay dear old Hope a visit now if you’d like, to hear it from her own increasingly unhinged lips.” Raphael stands now, offering a hand to me, “In fact, I insist we do, for I have some questions for the pair of you. Such kismet we encounter tonight.”

“Right now? Raphael, I’m not wearing pants…”

“For the stunt you pulled, you should be thankful I’m allowing you any clothing and not forcing you to crawl on your hands and knees like a dog. We go now as we are, or Hope remains just where she is.” Raphael holds his hand out for me to take more insistently. I accept it, and he lets it rest in his palm. The difference in our hand size is considerable, I always feel so much smaller than I really am in his presence.

“The other one too.” He says, nodding toward the arm by my side. Confused, I place both of my hands in his large ones, and as quickly as a hunting trap, he clamps his fingers around my hands. Raphael rifles through a drawer in his desk with the hand not wrapped down around mine, pulls out a silken cord and begins tying my wrists together.

“Oh, come on, is this necessary? Why do you even have rope in there?” I protest, trying to pull my arms back. Raphael smiles to himself as he works quickly and expertly with the rope, looping it around my wrists in pretty, neat little rows and knots.

“It seems I cannot be too careful with you, mouse. I had thought you would listen when you were told to stay. I will not be made a fool of by assuming you will follow without causing chaos as well.” Raphael leaves about a meter’s worth of length to the rope, holding casually to the end, “There. Now we have a leash to go with your collar… though I see you’ve lost that as well,” he notes, looking at my neck, no longer adorned with jewels.

Raphael tugs on the rope, pulling me and heading towards the main exit of the room.

“Wait—are we not going back through the passageway?” I ask, digging my heels in a little. I don’t exactly love the idea of being pulled without my trousers through the labyrinth on the House of Hope like an animal on a makeshift leash.

“Of course not, it’s far too private. I’m sure there’s more than a few guests straggling about, and if you’re going to provide fodder for rumors of me tolerating your disobedience, I have an obligation to sustain my image and provide competitive fodder.” Raphael tugs the rope again, “I will remind you to be grateful that your tunic remains on, and these pretty bracelets I’ve woven for you is not, instead, a noose.”

“But—”

“Another word of protest and you’ll be gagged.” I have to bite my lower lip to keep my mouth shut, and this seems to please Raphael, who tugs lightly on the rope, “Come along now, pup.”

We exit the room, making our way to the main chamber of the House of Hope as I follow closely behind Raphael. It does seem that the majority of the partygoers have left, though there are still about a couple of dozen or so strewn about, preparing their own departures.

There is a moment of interested silence from the remaining crowd when Raphael and I make our entrance before more excited chatter, now clearly all about this new dynamic between the devil and me. We are no longer equals, sharing center stage on a dance floor, but a clear master and prisoner.

“Oh-ho! About time he showed the girl her place!”

“Bet she wishes she went with old Mephi now!”

“See that rump? Looks like he gave her a proper beating!”

The comments are humiliating, but I keep my eyes forward and chin up. I won’t give the guests any more reason to taunt me, nor will I give Raphael any reason to find another way to make this walk even worse. I wonder where Haarlep is…

We are almost to the platform when I feel the back of my shirt rise up, and an unfamiliar hand rubs my still-aching bottom. Instinctively, I kick my leg back, making contact with the creature’s thigh, forcing him to stumble back.

“Oh, oh! Feisty thing, aren’t you?” says a large blue cambion, a man, nearly the size of Raphael, “Seems like your pet still has some manners to learn, Raphael, about how to treat your guests. Mind if I—?”. He does not have the chance to finish his question before Raphael drops the rope holding me and slams him by the throat into a nearby marble pillar, choking him.

“You do not touch her.” Raphael says coldly, fingers closed tightly around the creature's throat. He is sputtering and grabbing uselessly at Raphael’s arm. Just when it seems the cambion is about to lose consciousness, Raphael lets go, and he crumples to the ground. “Now slither off to whatever hole you call home while you still have the chance.”

Raphael turns and continues walking toward the passageway without picking up the other end of the rope. I follow Raphael anyway, after making a quick, rude gesture to the guest on the floor, who is still struggling to stand. It’s more difficult and a little less effective when one’s hands are tied, but I believe my point got across.

I see Raphael hide a smile as I catch up and we reach the platform.

“You require an inordinate amount of saving, you know. Thrice throughout this event alone, it has fallen to me to keep you from falling victim to fates worse than even I might provide you.”

“Yeah, who knew the hells were dangerous?” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You are only here because you broke in to steal from me.” Raphael retorts, “There’s no one to blame but yourself, mouse.”

The platform lands back to the rocky prison area. Raphael opens his hand, and the length of rope –my ’leash’ rises to meet his palm like a well-trained viper. We walk through the threshold to find Hope right where she was left. Right where she’s been left for who knows how long?

“Hello, Hope, my sweet.” Raphael purrs at her, giving the rope a sharp tug, so I come stumbling out from behind him.

“Raphael, the great big fox with a little mouse in tow! Here to tell me a story all about her woe!” Hope sing-songs. She seems anxious, pulling back on the chains as if she could slip out of the manacles.

“I would introduce the two of you, but it seems you’ve met already at least once. Dear Hope, I’ve come to ask you, once again, if you would wish to go free? Would you allow me to unleash you from these binding chains?” He asks in a tone that I would only describe as seductive.

“No, Raphael, you know I can’t! I won’t! I can’t! or that is, I can’t and then I won’t? I don’t know which is right, but you know it can’t happen. It won’t-can’t!”

“Do you see, mouse?” Raphael asks, turning his face to me, but remaining close to Hope, running the back of his finger down her cheek, “This is far from our first conversation on the matter, and I am always declined.”

“Hope, what does he want in exchange for your freedom?” I ask Hope directly, ignoring Raphael, “Why say ‘no’?”

“It has to be either Korrilla or I here; we can be exchanged but no one is free. We must either work for Raphael or remain trapped here with no chance at all to flee.”

“So you could switch places with Korilla? Why not do that? She put you in this position!”

Hope shakes her head ferociously, nearly in tears now, “Do not—do NOT talk like Raphael! He says the same thing! I cannot do this, I won’t make a deal with the devil! Please, Miss Mouse, go back to the surface and find the hammer!”

“Among Hope’s many admirable traits is her unwavering dedication to consistently do ‘the right thing’.” Raphael says, standing now and taking a step back, “Perhaps if Hope were even a fraction as depraved as you, she would be free now. She has gotten me to lower my end of the bargain more than any before her.”

Hope begins to rhythmically shake her head back and forth ‘no’, as if reminding herself it’s the only option to her.

“Let her free, Raphael,” I say softly, earnestly to Raphael. I don’t want this to escalate into a fight, and more importantly, I don’t want to scare Hope any more than she seems to be, “You’ve won. She declined you, but you’ve won. You’ve taken too much from her.”

“So long as there is resistance and Hope persists, I cannot consider this a victory,” Raphael replies, cupping Hope’s face and examining her. Almost… lovingly? Certainly, with reverence I have not seen from him often before.

“She’s not yours to claim, though. Hope’s never dealt with you, and to keep her here… like this… it’s greedy. It’s artless.” I choose my words carefully, trying to discern what might affect Raphael. A devil who craves beauty and art even throughout his torture and hellish domain. “…Frankly, it seems more along the lines of what Mephistopheles might do.”

“Careful, mouse. Do not overstep.” Raphael warns me, now coming to stand. I went a little too far there, maybe, but I have his attention. I try another tactic:

“Letting Hope free… consider the benefits to you, Raphael. Lost souls more inclined to make deals with you, with the dim light of imagining they might too go free?”

“Go on…” He prompts, cocking his head.

“I think… I think if I were going to make a devil's deal, I would be more incentivized to do so if there was even the faintest glimmer of a chance I’d make it out one day. It becomes a gamble rather than a sealed fate, and you know how we mortals like our gambles.”

Raphael considers this for a long moment,

“You are, essentially, providing advice to me that might doom countless others, mouse. All for the sake of this one soul. Is that worth it to you?”

“I… I don’t know. But Hope’s time with you is done now. It’s time to let her go.”

“On a condition…” Raphael turns towards me now and stand my ground, ready to hear him out.

“Miss Mouse!” Hope interjects, “Do not make a deal with Raphael! He’ll eat you right alive, and you’ll feel every crunch!” She is straining against her bonds, trying to get to me, to protect me. How much can one creature go through and still feel the instinct to protect without protection in return?

“Name it.” I say to Raphael and give Hope a quick look that I intend to indicate that I’ve ‘got this’.

“Tell me your secret little sin.” He says, “You’ve been naughty during your stay with me, I know this. Rumors of passing messages to the surface have reached my ears, but I sense that is not all. Tell me of every detail I ask, no matter how damning, and I will relinquish my grasp on Hope. However, if you tell me as much as a single lie or bent truth, you shall endure a fate that will make you envious of the one before you now.”

I look at Hope and feel my stomach clench. If Raphael knows I’ve been to the surface- much worse than passing a message- it might mean the end of me. He might even retaliate against my friends… But I can’t leave Hope.

“Please, do not bother, Miss Mouse” Says Hope, “I no longer remember freedom. Let me ask you eternally for the hammer and be kept eternally kept in his House, wishing for a miracle.” Hope says, “No more deals. No more deals.”

“Fine.” I say to Raphael, “But I get to dictate the terms of Hope’s release. I won’t let you just drop her in the middle of the Chionthar and call that ‘freedom’.”

The look Hope gives me makes my heart ache. Despite her protests, she wants this, she needs this freedom so, so badly—or maybe she just wants someone to fight for her. Raphael looks pleased, for he has another opportunity for a deal.

“It seems then, it is time to enter negotiations.”

With a snap, Hope, Raphael, and I are back in his office. Hope is the projected version of herself, her real body still in chained in deep below the house no doubt. My wrists are no longer bound, and Raphael gestures for Hope and me to take seats in the two chairs opposite him behind his desk.

“Of course, if sitting is less comfortable given your current state, mouse, feel free to stand.” Raphael says with false consideration for my still-aching rear. I glare at him and remain standing, moving to be directly next to Hope, feeling and looking like the least prepared lawyer of all time. She seems nervous but not too surprised to be here, so it’s clear that Raphael does know that some version of her can be projected outside of her body.

Hope looks at me, fear in her eyes, and I try to put a hand on her shoulder, forgetting it goes right through her form. She smiles at my hand and seems to appreciate the gesture anyway.

“How… sweet.” Raphael says, looking nearly nauseated and taking out a roll of parchment and quill, “Let us begin. We each have something the other wants. I, the truth, and the little team of Tav and Hope desire Hope’s freedom. Mouse, you wished to dictate the conditions of Hope’s freedom: state your proposal.”

“Well… Hope, where do you want to go?” I ask her. “If you could go anywhere in Faerun? Where was home?”

Hope thinks for a long time, and I begin to wonder if she even remembers. Quietly, hardly able to even be heard she says,

“The Western Heartlands. That’s home. You can find it by the tower rising to the stars, to the moon.”

My heart pangs again— Hope’s home had become the Shadow-Cursed Lands, only just recently freed from that wretched curse. The curse has been lifted, yes, but that area has been destroyed and gutted for years now. Whatever home Hope left is surely unrecognizable.

“Hope, the Western Heartlands have fallen on some difficult—”

“I KNOW WHAT IT HAS BECOME!” Hope shouts at me, “SHROUDED IN SHADOW AND DARK! AS EMPTY AND TWISTED AS I. I have seen it, it has been shown to me, the progression of rot seeping through everything I’ve loved. THE ROT HAS FOUND ME TOO.”

“I believe it was the very same place I had met your friend Mol, where I had found Hope and Korilla: The one and only Last Light Inn.” Raphael adds.

“Well, have you told Hope that the curse has lifted?” I demand. Hope turns her face to me, incredulous and I add, “Only recently—there’s a lot of damage to the area and a lot of would need to happen for it to be a good home for you again, but the darkness is gone, Hope. There are Harpers there now, working to rebuild it. One day, maybe you could return and start a life over there, but for now, I don’t know if it’s safe. Perhaps Rivington--?”

“I want to go to the Western Heartlands. We can rebuild each other. I can build a home and the Heartlands can build a Hope. We can start from the beginning again.”

“Then the Heartlands it is.” I say, feeling tears prick behind my eyes. I swallow the emotions down and focus on the negotiation, “In addition to returning safety to the Western Heartlands, Hope will be immune to becoming collateral or part of a deal ever again and... Let’s see…” I say, trying to think on my feet, “Hope will be given a sufficient starting pack: food, water, a bedroll, and enough gold for the rest of her life.”

“A year.” Counters Raphael.

“Fifty years.” I reply.

“Six months.”

“Five years.”

“Done. I’d have given you twenty if you had stuck with it.” Raphael says, pleased with himself, and writes this into the contract.

“Ass.” I mutter to myself and Hope, “But the food, water, and shelter are non-negotiable. You’ll give Hope a supply of potions and a starter pack of useful herbs and plants she can use—you’re a cleric, aren’t you, Hope?”

“I was.” She says, “I can be. Selune be with me. Be with us all.” Hope says and she sounds increasingly grounded as if the idea of really getting out is within reach. Raphael seems to twitch at the very idea of a Selunite blessing, and I keep that in mind, in case I want to irk him later.

“Anything else?” Raphael prompts, as he notes the conditions laid out.

“She will never see you or any other creature from the Hells ever again, including Korilla.” I say, “You will not be waiting for her; she will not spend her life looking over her shoulder for you.”

“Hope? Any objection to this?” Raphael asks her patiently, knowingly.

To my surprise, Hope hesitates.

“A world without Raphael is one I cannot know anymore.” She says, “He need not follow me for me to know he is watching. Always watching. If I can watch back, only sometimes, I should like that.”

“A game of chess now and again, perhaps, Hope?” Raphael suggests, “Like our earliest days together… Oh, the fun we had.”

“Only at my request for I do not entertain yours any longer,” Hope says. Raphael smiles and inks it on the parchment.

“So, we have Hope’s preparations and accommodations. We’ve agreed she will not become collateral, nor a bargaining chip, nor part of any deal I make moving forward. We have a location for her to begin anew. We’ve agreed that I shall not interfere with Hope’s new life unless my presence is specifically requested. Is there anything else you would like to add, darling Hope?’

“I would like to age again.” Hope says quickly, “I would like to die when I am old or in too much pain or sick or when I want to. I have wished for death so many times, but I would like to live again first.”

“Ah. Interesting.” Raphael says, standing now, “I can grant you this, Hope, but not without also undoing my ageless blessing upon Korilla as well. Are you willing to take this gift away from your sister?”

“IT IS NOT A GIFT. IT IS A CURSE. A CURSE. A CURSE. TAKE IT.” Hope says anxiously, “She will be mad, so mad, but she will be free! She only doesn’t know how much freedom there is in finding an end!”

“As you wish. You and your sister will become mortal, once again.” Raphael says, noting it. Hope exhales and looks at me,

“Thank you, Miss Mouse. Korilla will hate you so dearly for this.”

“With any luck, she won’t even notice she’s aging for a few years, I’m not that worried.” I say with a shrug. And honestly, I'd love to fight a mortal Korilla, but Hope is kinder than I so I don't say it.

“Hope, I would hold off on the gratitude until ‘Miss Mouse’ agrees to my end of the bargain as well.” Raphael interrupts, “We are not yet done.."

“You asked for a confession, Raphael. You’ll get it.”

“Ah yes, but then you decided to play advocate and promised Hope so many lovely specifics. It seems only fair that I am allowed to adjust my price as well, no? Besides, I mean you no offense, Mouse, but Hope has become rather like family during her tenure here. She is exceptionally dear to me and letting her go is no easy feat.”

I exhale, feeling a sense of dread about the new price,

“Alright, what are your new stipulations?”

“In addition to your confession, I want three years of your life dedicated to me here by my side.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, pick something else.”

“Three years is more than fair, mouse. Consider the five hundred Hope has spent by my side. Three years is the blink of an eye.”

“How about an hour?” I try a low-balling technique

“One year and a favor.”

“What sort of favor?” I ask, eyebrow arched

“To will be determined by me when the moment is right.”

“Six months, no favor.” I counter.

“One year, one favor, one confession. That is my final offer. Take it or leave it, but our friend Hope’s freedom depends on this. Depends on you.” Raphael says and sits back again in his chair. I take a deep breath and consider this proposal.

“The favor cannot involve any harm or murder of innocents, nor my friends; no torturing others or anything else of the like.” I specify

“Darling, please, torture is rather my domain anyway. Agreed.” Raphael adds this in his neat handwriting, glowing red on the page.

“And the year has to be in surface-Faerun time, and unmanipulated by you or your awful rooms or magic in any way.”

“Oh, very good catch, mouse!” Raphael says, sounding genuinely impressed, “You’ve become quite the critical thinker at times, I must admit. Alright, agreed: One unaltered surface year and no favor that compromises your precious integrity.”

Gods, I wish I didn’t care for his approval. What the fuck is that about?

Raphael finishes his signature with a flourish and sends the paper, floating over to Hope and I. Before I can talk myself out of it, I sign as well.

The first thing I see properly is Yurgir being what I believe is called ‘fisted’ by another orthon on the balcony. I maneuver my way around, afraid to bump into anyone- though I doubt I’d be noticed. The balcony is lined with onlookers to a crowd that is cheering and booing below. What was the ballroom dance floor, now seems to be a kind of fighting ring, and two devils are wrestling with what appears to be no rules when one pokes the other in the eye, causing a scream. The one whose eye was hurt bites the other in the neck and a spray of blood rains down on the closest members of the audience who seem thrilled by this.

It seems there are bets being made as to who the winner will be as Korilla is walking around taking notes of who is gambling what.

It is absolute chaos in a way I’ve never seen. A fireball from the fight shoots over the crowd and hits an onlooker on the stairs, who falls over, landing in the crowd below. For some reason, two of the onlookers who weren't hit by the fireball begin to brawl on the stairs, trying to push each other over the railing. I’ve been in plenty of battles and even more fights. Hell, I’ve seen unsanctioned fighting rings before in the lower city of Baulder’s Gate, but nothing compares to this. It is like a festival of violence, and I wonder if this is getting out of hand or a typical final act for such events.

I scan the crowd for Raphael and Haarlep. Haarlep is nowhere to be seen—though it stands to reason, as a shapeshifter, they could be anyone in here. Raphael is observing the fight from another balcony with a small glass of liquor, chatting casually with Mizora, each taking dainty sips from their little glasses as they watch the fight. They seem to be getting along well now, whispering and laughing conspiratorially. They look as if they are watching some kind of immersive opera or theater performance while blood, fire, and curses are thrown about.

I feel my pockets; I have a couple of weapons if need be, and three more invisibility potions available to me. Plenty of time and resources to snoop around a bit. I’ll do a lap and head back to the boudoir. I really don’t want any trouble here, but it is a sight to behold. One day soon, when I get back to the surface, this will be a good story to swap with Karlach, I think.

The rooms that were previously closed or locked earlier in the party are mostly open now, with different beasts fucking and/or fighting while others watch and/or fight also. I walk around the main room slowly, picking up snippets of conversation,

“…Zariel’s mad if she thinks she’ll win this next battle. Dawn is coming and she is underprepared…”

“…If you can break Yugir’s skull, I’ll give you 100 of my own troops in the morning!”

“…Raphael’s a pretentious fucking fop, but he can throw a good party, I’ll give him that...”

The last one makes me smile a little until I hear something that demands all my attention.

“Hey! We found where he’s keeping Hope! Let’s go pay her a visit, shall we?”

A group of about six cambions laughs and makes their way down a mostly unattended hallway, away from the party. Several more follow, but not all get onto the platform the first six are on.

“He hates when we find her, but we always do!” they laugh. They sound as if they’re youths talking about finding a special bottle of whiskey, not devils with power at their fingertips, about to find an innocent person, a prisoner. I temper my anger, though. If I can find where Hope is kept, this will make breaking her out far easier when we get the hammer back.

I take another invisibility potion just for safety and follow them. The platform lowers into a kind of basement chamber. Some kind of infernal prison or torture chamber. Chains are bolted into the rock walls, and blood splatters the ground in a pattern indicating bodies being dragged from one location to another.

One of the cambions pulls a lever and the door lowers. I can hear Hope’s voice right away;

“Please! Not again! Please!” Hope’s voice is heard, but I cannot see her, for the group of laughing cambions blocks my view. On either side, I see two gigantic spectators, far too large to be obscured, gigantic eyeballs and gruesome maws open and ready to attack at a moment's notice. Of all the creatures in the hells, spectators are especially heinous to me.

“Take a break, lads! We’ll keep an eye on ‘er for a while.” The apparent leader of this little group says to the spectators. They fly away obediently, and I shudder.

This is where they’re keeping her?

“Hello, hello, hello, Hope! ‘Member us, love?” says one of the cambions who sounds drunk, as they all jump across the floating rocks to surround her.

I see Hope now, she is chained by her wrists, connected to rocks. The chains are thick and golden, a cruel visual. She is so small and harmless, kept like a feral beast for no apparent reason. My hand flies to the knife strapped to my hip, but I don’t quite know my move here. I can’t just fight them… Maybe there is some way to release her- there has to be…

“Go! Enjoy your party!” Hope pleads, “You don’t need to be here! You don’t want to be here!”

“Oh, but we do!” says another cambion. A woman, already with some blood splatter across her face, “The party can’t truly end until we’ve had our fun with you. You know that, Hope.”

As quietly as I can, I jump and climb across the rocks, looking for some kind of lever or button to let Hope go free. I cannot fight six cambions alone, but maybe if I could get Hope out and give her the knife…? With the spectators gone, it could be possible, if only just.

“A party is a party is a party! I have no fun left in me! Go, go, go, go, go, GO!” Hope shouts, directing a ‘go’ at each of them. I scramble silently across the rocks to the other side. No lever, no buttons on the first side.

“You know, Hope,” a different cambion from behind her says, pulling a long, thin blade out, feeling the weight of it as he swishes it, “You might not be our only plaything for much longer. Have you heard? Raphael has a new little friend.”

“You’re being replaced, poor thing. Poor, forgotten Hope.” Says another devil. One of the women, “Does it make you jealous? Or relieved? Maybe Raphael will finally let you die, if you’re lucky.”

“Miss Mouse is here to help! Miss Mouse WILL WILL WILL help us!” Hope says, causing uproarious laughter from the others, who repeat “Miss Mouse! Miss Mouse!” in a mocking soprano while they each get out a weapon. Blades, waiting balls of flames, and one even simply picks up a heavy rock from the ground, tossing it like a ball up and down in their hand. They have her surrounded, and she is positively helpless.

Fuck-- there is no lever, no button, no way to release the chains. I can’t fight six armed cambions by myself! Even invisible- it’s just not possible!

“Please, no.” Whimpers Hope as the one with the long, thin blade flourishes it around, taunting her. One cambion places an apple they’ve pulled from their pocket and balances it on Hope’s head. The other with the long, thin blade- the leader, I think, backs up as if he is performing some kind of target practice.

“Stay still, Hope. We don’t want this to hurt. But I’ll admit, we’ve been drinking and our aim ain’t so good!” Another teases as they all step back, leaving Hope defenseless, chained, and a perfect target. A sob from Hope makes the apple fall, and the devils all laugh. The leader raises his arm, ready to throw his blade, but never quite gets the chance.

My throwing knife lands perfectly in the middle of his chest, and he falls over the rocks and down into the depths of the hells. La’zel would’ve been proud of that aim, I think.

“What the--?” Six heads all twist around to see what happened. The five cambions left, plus Hope, who looks relieved and confused, searches for the source of whatever knocked over the leader but I am still invisible. Now would be a very opportune time to say something about being “Miss Mouse” and something about “saving the day” but I am not Wyll, who is much better at having a title and thinking of little heroic quips than I am.

Instead, I remain silent and invisible. Five cambions are slightly more manageable, but not an easy fight by any means.

“What the fuck did you do?” One of the cambions says, rounding on Hope and brandishing his blade with accusation, “How did you do that?”

“I don’t KNOW! Go BACK to the party or you’ll be next! Whoooooosh- into the fire with you!!” Hope says, still sounding scared then laughing suddenly. I have my next target. One of the cambions raises a hand engulfed in flame, ready to strike. I leap over the rocks, drag her away from Hope, and toss her over the edge. I don’t want to use all my throwing stars right away, and a push over the edge of a rock into the fire and lava below works as well as any weapon.

The invisibility advantage is incredibly helpful but short-lived as a spell cast from another washes the effects of the potion from me. Even if I took another potion right now, it would be ineffective.

“Shit.” I say as I’m revealed, reaching for my knife.

“Well, well! Little ‘Miss Mouse’ has come out to play!” Says one of the male cambions, pulling out a much larger knife than my own, “How terribly fun. Come to see your future? Chained to a rock in your master’s basement and forgotten about?”

“Hope is not forgotten.” I snarl. One of the cambions, closest to the door, moves quickly over the rocks and back through the exit. My stomach clenches- are they gathering more allies? Running away?

“Fair enough.” Says the one with the large knife. The other three cambions left form a circle around Hope and I who are standing back to back, “We’re all here after all. Perhaps ‘forgotten’ is the wrong word. Let me try again; Hope is… useless? Hope is… a joke?”

“Miss Mouse! You found me! You have the hammer, yes?! You got from your trip to the surface! You must have!” Hope whispers, making me tense up in a whole new way now.

“How the hells do you know--? No, Hope. I don’t have it yet. I’m sorry.” I say, “It won’t be long, though.”

“Aww, are you two friends?” taunts one of the female cambions, a growing fireball between her hands, “Isn’t that just precious? Isn’t that just—”

“What is going on here?” comes a voice from the door. Korilla is standing at the entrance, looking furious, taking in the scene. “You know this section is off-limits.” She scolds the cambions before finding my eyes. “And you…”

“Sister! My sister, please!” Hope says in a sing-song voice, pulling against her chains, “Sister! Meet my friend! Miss Mouse IS MY FRIEND! Korilla is NOT! NOT a friend!”

“Silence, Hope!” Korilla says with a scowl and exasperated sigh, “Raphael will not be pleased with this. Not at all…”

“You’re her sister? But you’re so awful!” I say in disbelief. Korilla ignores my words but gives me a hateful glare.

“The Master has to be informed of this. I will fetch him and whatever happens in the meantime… well… it’s out of my hands, isn’t it? Don’t be too long, now.” Korilla nods at the cambions, clearly giving them permission to kill me as she turns away, shutting the door behind her. I fucking hate her.

“Bye, darling sister!!!” Hope shouts after her, “May you ROT IN THE FLAMES OF ASMODEUS!”

“What exactly were the stipulations of your contract, rat?” says one of the female cambions left, turning now to me. She has short blue hair and is holding a ball of lightning. “Something about we can’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us? Well, we’re down two now by your hand, so…” The lightning ball misses by a hair as I dodge.

I aim one of my throwing knives at her, and she dodges only by the smallest margin as well. Another cambion- the male that’s left- runs to grab the knife and throw it back at me. I dodge it again- for the most part, though it rips through the sleeve of my shirt and only just nicks me. I spin quickly with my knife and slash as the second female cambion with black hair and a long knife of her own, slicing her in the ribs as she jumps back just a little too sluggishly.

She and I spar, each aiming for vital organs when we can. I’m grateful I’m well rested and fed, and that they all seem to be a little drunk, but I am still outnumbered. The blue-haired female approaches Hope, while the male joins the black-haired female to attack me. Two against one is far better than six, but I can’t help but be distracted by Hope- helpless and chained. I have to keep an eye on her. I have to protect her.

I’m careful of my positioning during the fight, never too close to the edge of the rocks, for falling over is certain death. I’m able to dodge and roll, always staying towards the center of the floating rocks. I get in a few good swipes to these devils and even a good stab into the male’s thigh, forcing him down for a bit, when I see the blue-haired cambion loading up another ball of lightning. Blue-Hair stands in front of Hope with an unrushed smugness,

“You can’t die, right, Hope? No matter how much pain you’re put through? Raphael granted you and Korilla eternal youth, didn’t he?” Blue-Hair says, tilting her head as if asking an academic question.

Hope spits right in her face, and I whoop my approval.

Blue-Hair does not like this and raises her hand, ready to strike Hope with a large ball of lightning—a lethal amount. I cannot stand the idea of Hope being hurt further than she has been for who knows how long. She is chained, forced to survive whatever comes her way, being taunted and tortured for sport. I dive past the two cambions trying to corner me, jump over Hope, and take the lightning bolt right to the chest as I tackle the blue-haired devil to the ground.

The lightning seems to flow directly into my heart and out to all of my limbs, causing me to seize and thrash uncontrollably—the pain is like nothing I’ve felt before, like thousands and thousands of giant needles piercing my repeatedly. My vision is instantly blurred and flashing as if seeing a series of images rapidly rather than watching the world in its real time. Blue-Hair pushes me off of her easily and stands, placing the bottom of her shoe on my neck. I cannot so much as to lift my arm as the lightning continues to ravage me. Distantly, I can hear Hope shouting the words to healing spells over and over, punctuated with “MISS MOUSE!”, but her magic is absorbed into the chains and cannot reach me.

The blue-haired cambion smirks and shoots another ball of lightning casually over the back of her shoulder, striking Hope, who lets out an agonizing shout.

“NO!” I try to choke out, but I cannot breathe. I am teetering on the verge of unconsciousness from the pain or lack of air; it’s difficult to say.

“Stupid girl,” says Blue-Hair, taking her boot off my neck to kick me hard in the ribs. Joke's on her, though, I can barely even feel that, “You know what they say about you, don't you? That you've fucked your way to the bottom." Another kick to the ribs and I feel that one quite a bit more, "And now you're going to die-- and for what? To fail at saving Hope? How pathetic."

Blue-Hair bends down to take my blade and presses the tip of it against my chest over my heart. My vision is clearing now, but I don’t want to see this. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

At least it will be swift. At least Hope knows someone cares about her. At least the pain will stop. At least I tried.

But death doesn’t come. And those are not my final thoughts. I open my eyes to see the Blue-Haired cambion flying overhead. I hear a groan and thud from behind me as her body hits the ground.

Raphael stands in her place in all his hellish glory, fists and jaws clenched. Never, never have I seen him so angry. Little flames come from his very skin as he scans the area.

“Get out.” He says to the three remaining cambions, who freeze at being confronted by the arch-devil master of this house.

“GET OUT!” Raphael roars now, and the three scramble past him, back towards the exit.

“Out! Out! Out!” Chants Hope, “Let me OUT!”

I try to stand up-- I want to get up, but my body is still thrashing. I manage to get on all fours through the pain and tremors, but, as it turns out, I don’t need to stand on my own. Raphael has grabbed the scruff of the back of my shirt and lifted me as if I were a misbehaving kitten to meet his glowing eyes.

“You… are in a world of trouble, little mouse.” He says so calmly, I feel like I am standing in the eye of a storm raging around me.

“You don’t understand—” I say, still twitching occasionally from the effects of the lightning, though the worst of the pain has receded, “We have to let Hope go—”

“We do not. I do not have to do anything I do not wish. And you need to learn your place before it gets you killed. You are in a most dire need of a re-education and your lessons begin immediately.”

I am tossed over Raphael’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and we begin to walk away.

“Thank you, Miss Mouse!! You are a kinder friend than any sister could be! Come back with the hammer next time!” Hope calls after us. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Raphael stops walking suddenly. His shoulders tense under my belly, and the hand securing the backs of my thighs clenches painfully, claws digging into flesh.

“Next time…” Raphael repeats Hope’s words slowly before a low terrifying chuckle shakes his shoulders, “Oh Miss Mouse, a friend and savior to all…you really do know how to dig yourself out of a ditch, don’t you...”

“You don’t understa—”

“Korilla!” Raphael says over the shoulder I am not on, “See that our guests leave soon and clean up the House. We have had enough merriment for the night, I think.” “Yes, master.” Korilla, who stands by the platform dutifully, says with a bow of her head to Raphael. She meets my eyes when her face comes up with a taunting, knowing smile while I am carried through a passageway I hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey- fuck you!” I shout at Korilla, the last spasms of the effects of the lightning leaving my body. Raphael’s hand clenches again, and this time, I’m confident he’s broken skin on the back of my thigh.

We pass through the hidden door, my shouts falling on deaf ears. Raphael brings us to another platform that goes up, up, up into a small dark room. I try to squirm out of his grasp, hitting his back and protesting variants of “Put me down!” and “I need to talk to you!” but Raphael does not respond. He is so angry, I can feel it radiating from him in waves, though he remains silent. But I’m angry too, and it seems we both have a bone to pick.

We emerge from behind what ends up being a bookshelf in his main office. He drops me unceremoniously onto the floor in front of him, and I land on my feet, only just keeping my balance.

“Raph—”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you are?” He says, stepping toward me suddenly, causing me to jump back, “Even if I were to be so generous as to presume that parasite has eaten the best parts of your brain, surely you can follow an instruction as simple as ”stay put.”

“Raphael, Hope is—” I say, trying to step forward and reclaim some space.

“Ah yes. Hope.” I’m interrupted again, and Raphael stalks forward. A lion cornering prey. “An old friend of yours, apparently. Tell me, how long have you been conspiring with dear, sweet Hope?”

The devil’s jaw tenses, eager and impatient for answers while I wonder if the only reason he saved me from Blue-Hair was to kill me himself.

“It’s not like that—and anyway, what matters is that she has to be let free! I—"

“Does she, now?” Raphael shoots a small burst of fire in front of me, forcing me to jump back to dodge it. “And does she need me to do this, or can she rely on you?” Another burst of flame, just where I was leaping to the side, “It seems you’ve already promised your friend a dashing rescue with my hammer.” A third stream of fire singes the floor as I jump away again.

“Fuck—Stop that!!”

“Or else what, little mouse?” Raphael says, sending a much larger ball of flame towards me—I have to properly roll out of the way this time, behind his desk. I crouch under the top of the desk, hoping he cares too much about the contents of the drawers to destroy the whole thing. “What will you do? Go running to Zariel to be sent to the Blood Wars? Beg Mephistopheles to fill you with his seed so you can die bearing his child? What, really, are your options aside from whatever I deem fit?”

“You’re being ridiculous- you don’t even know the whole story!” I say, gripping onto a throwing knife, just in case.

A hand comes from the side of the desk, fast as anything, grabs my hair and drags me from my hiding spot. I raise the knife, ready to strike, but Raphael’s reflexes are fast. He grabs my wrist so hard I release it, clattering to the ground.

“What’s ‘ridiculous’”, Raphael hisses, clutching my hair and wrist more tightly, “is this sudden sense of entitlement you have. I offer you a mere crumb of respect, a whisper of autonomy and you toss it aside as if you had earned it so easily.”

“Ow!- Raphael, that hurts!”

“Good. It’s supposed to.” He says and releases my wrist anyway. I am confident there will be bruises where his fingers pressed into the very bone, “Haarlep has turned you into a spoiled pup, expecting a treat after causing nothing but mayhem. But they aren’t here to help you now, are they?” Raphael examines my face, his eyes resting on my lips. For an insane moment, I think he might kiss me, and then I am dragged over to the chair where I was spanked the first time, and I am pulled over his lap again.

“Raphael- stop it! We need to talk about Hope!” I say as sternly as I can for someone who is clearly about to be spanked within an inch of her life.

“Oh, yes. We certainly do. Tell me, when did you first meet the lovely Hope?” Raphael asks, tracing a talon along the outline of my ass. It’s so gentle and leaves my nerves on edge in the wake of his finger. I can’t help but squirm a little, undermining my attempt at a stern tone.

“If you must know, we all met her when we first got into the House,” I say. I realize I don’t think Raphael knows she can project herself, and I don’t want to let that information go free. “We stumbled into her cell by accident. But that’s not what’s important--”

“I’ll let you know what’s important, mouse,” Raphael says with a growl and sudden grab of my ass so tight, I wonder if he’s punctured the fabric. I let out a small yelp, and I feel pressure against my side. He’s getting hard. Worse still, I’m getting wet.

“Let’s find a common ground, shall we? I am not unreasonable, after all.” Raphael says, rubbing slow circles across each of my cheeks, “I am going to give you a slice of your punishment. If you can tolerate it without causing a scene, you may be able to plead whatever case regarding whatever business you have with darling Hope.” Raphael takes what might be a letter opener or knife or maybe even uses his claws to rip the pants I’m wearing so my ass is suddenly exposed to the air, pants falling away. Raphael’s hand on my hair pulls my head back so far that it’s difficult to even speak, “You’re going to count them. All the way to ten, and if you stammer or forget your number, or refuse, we will continue until you find success.”

“Raphael—"

SMACK

The first hit is harder than he’s ever done. It’s harder by a wide margin than the first time he spanked me in this very office. If Raphael didn’t have an iron grip across my back the force from the blow might have knocked me right over.

“Ow! Fuck! Stop it!”

SMACK

“Shit—Stop! This—”

SMACK

“This isn’t fair!” I whine, trying to get off of him. The hits sting so badly my eyes tear up instantly. I’m so mad- I have to tell Raphael to let Hope go, and I can’t have this conversation over this stupid devil’s lap! It’s infuriating and humiliating, and the worst of all of it is my body’s lack of cooperation with my angry mind. I feel so alive and alert each time the pain ebbs away. Somehow, I become reinvigorated and sapped of energy at the same time becoming resentfully, irately aroused.

“This ‘isn’t fair’?” Raphael says, frustratedly. He pulls my hair back again so he can growl his words into my ear, “Do you have any idea the leniency I show you, even now? The favor you possess? I could make you count your beatings into the thousands in a language you’ve never heard of before, and I ask you to count to ten. I could pull this pretty hair right out of your skull, strand by strand, yet I only give it a little tug.” Raphael pulls my hair for effect, “Face it, love, if you really wanted this to stop, you’d have started counting at the very onset.”

SMACK!,

“Raphael- st—”

SMACK!

“One!” I shout. There is a small pause, and I can practically feel him smiling in triumph. The pressure from his erection is still present on my side, reminding me that this is all a mere game to him.

SMACK!

“Two…” I say, feeling defeated, deflated.

SMACK!

“Three…” I yelp and jump with each blow and I wonder what part of this turns Raphael on the most. My pain? My submission?

SMACK! This time, right after the hit, I feel two fingers dip between my legs, smoothly entering my pussy and meeting little resistance, for I am more wet than I care to admit.

“Fou- Ooh--what are you doing?” I moan, as I feel his fingers stretch inside of me.

“Poor, distractible, little thing you are. Back to one, darling.” He says slowly with false pity, savoring my error.

“No, please, not back to—”

SMACK!

“One.” I whimper as the fingers inside me leave suddenly,

SMACK!

“Two.” SMACK!

“Three.” Raphael enters me again with his fingers, the pressure in my side increasing as his erection grows. He swirls them inside me before, again,

SMACK!

“Mmm.. four...” I say, in near tears, hovering between too much pain and a little too much pleasure from this humiliation.

SMACK!… and then a few pumps of his fingers

“Five…”

SMACK!… a corkscrew motion in and out of my pussy, causing a moan, my breath heaving

“Mmm…Six.”

SMACK!,SMACK!,SMACK!,SMACK! The last four happen in rapid succession, increasing in hardness.

“Seven, eight, nine, ten!” I say, trying to keep up and praying he won’t make me start again while he begins to finger me in earnest. A rhythmic, consistent motion that is slowly increasing in speed. Raphael’s other hand is lightly wrapped around my throat

“Oh… oh gods, Raphael…”

“It makes you so wet and ready, doesn’t it? Getting punished by me, feeling me take out my frustration on you, fucking you into submission with nothing more than my fingers. You crave it just as much as I do, don’t you?” Raphael alternates between fingering me and rubbing my ass gently. I can feel a warmth building deep in my core as he speaks, “You’re a lucky little thing that I want you like this, that I think of you relentlessly; over my knee and at my disposal. I think of you tied up with pretty bows left for me on my bed like a present waiting to be opened at my leisure. I think of using you in front of all your little friends so they can see how voracious you are for my touch while I make you come over and over and over again on command. How lucky you are that these are the fantasies you inspire from me. You have no idea how much worse it could be.”

I can feel myself getting close to the edge of my orgasm. Raphael’s voice is resonating in my very bones with desire. The pictures he paints with words arrive in my head, and his fantasies become my own. I’m so close…

“But today, you are not so lucky that I will let you come. You don’t deserve it.” Raphael says, removing his hands from my pussy and delivering another great big slap across my ass that leaves me whimpering and aching. Raphael pushes me off of his lap and I land on my knees in front of him. My ass is so raw, so tender that I do not think I’ll be able to sit comfortably for some time. My legs are so weak, as if made from jelly, I hesitate to even stand quite yet.

Raphael stands, now, looking down at me with satisfaction, pants tented with an erection. His face, his horrible, cruel, handsome face, is in a twisted smile. He bends down on one knee to get closer to my level, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear.