Said the Spider to the Fly by Wrestlr

//Begin Standard Headers//

Author: Wrestlr

Title: Said the Spider to the Fly

Summary: A wizard conjures a devil in his quest to track down the

secret of immortality

Keywords: MC, MM, Magic //End Standard Headers//

Disclaimer: The naked hypnotist strides confidently into your room. His lips curl in what might be a smile as he dangles his shiny crystal pendulum before your eyes and announces, "Listen and obey. If you are not of legal age, or if you offended by sexual situations, you will leave this place immediately. From here on, no matter how realistic it may appear, everything will seem like fiction to you, a pleasant dream where scientific possibilities and laws may change according to my suggestion. Now, if you are willing, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."

Copyright - 2020 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of (and payment to) the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Comments to wrestlr@iname.com

Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:

o http://www.asstr.org/~wrestlr (MC and general M/M stories)

o http://www.mcstories.com/Authors/Wrestlr.html (MC stories)

Said the Spider to the Fly by Wrestlr

From the moment that the shape started to emerge from the smoke that filled the other circle, Nicholas Keter knew this ritual was not going the way summonings of supernatural entities usually went.

At first, held in place by the magical barrier of the summoning circle, the thick vapor obscured everything. Keter caught a glimpse of something shiny and black, like a shard of darkest midnight. He had steeled himself for any manner of hideous forms. The ancient scroll he had taken without authorization--his less tolerant faculty advisors might have said stolen--from the university's Occult Sciences library provided a devil's Name, Xhenorey being the closest equivalent pronounceable by the human tongue. A crude drawing in margin of the scroll--whether by the original mage or some later user, he did not know--suggested a spider-like entity, much like a giant tarantula with a human's head and face. But what was entering this plane of existence and taking shape before him--Well, as Keter mused, trying to remain calm, one never knew what one would get when summoning, anything from a body built from carrion and maggots to a cyclone of blood. Still, as the smoke began to disappear and the body reared up, he was shocked by Xhenorey's actual appearance: Visible now from the waist up, the entity was undoubtedly male, and beautiful, probably the most beautiful man Keter had ever seen. His naked skin was pale white, but not quite so pale as to fall outside the human Caucasian range; his hair was short and dark, his body muscular like a serious athlete's.

And then Xhenorey stood up, and up, and the fog obscuring the lower half of his body continued to recede. His head was now nine feet from the ground. His torso ended in a man's groin, cock, and testicles--and quite a generous cock and testicles, Keter noted, that stopped just shy of the upper human limit. Keter, who normally considered himself unoffended by nudity and on the contrary quite the appreciative connoisseur of the undraped male form, felt somehow discomforted at the display and was in the process of averting his gaze in embarrassment when the lower body caught his attention. The devil's ass--oh, and his legs--Keter realized he had far many legs--Xhenorey's human torso and genitals were borne on the body of a giant spider, blending where his buttocks should have been into a spider's carapace and abdomen, widow-black and shiny-smooth like polished armor. His legs, those of a spider, arched in a way that made them seem more like powerful weapons than limbs of articulated chitin.

Though only a doctoral student and teaching assistant in the Occult Sciences program, Keter was already quite experienced with summonings and was not often overwhelmed in the presence the supernatural; but overwhelmed he was, and his mind recoiled from the beautiful horror before him, retreating into the realm of cold scientific inquiry. "Sir," he said before he could stop himself, retaining enough of his manners to remember that some people found his directness annoying if not mollified by politeness, "forgive me for being so forward, but I'm curious: are you homeothermic like a human, or ectothermic like an arachnid? Your, ah, your metabolism, I mean?"

The sir in question regarded him with an amused half-smile. He did not, however, answer.

"A mix of both, perhaps?" ventured Keter.

But the man-spider ignored him. "Eck ... toh ... ther ... mick," it repeated slowly, divorcing each syllable from its neighbors by a full second of silence. "Eck ... toh ..."

Was this devil a simpleton?--Or merely frivolous? One never knew what one would get when summoning.

"Eck-toh," the devil said, as though savoring the sound. "Eck, eck, eck."

No, Keter thought again, by any measure this was definitely not going the way most of his summonings went. He had both training and practical experience in that direction and knew these spells to involve a great deal of preparation, a precise understanding of the ritual's ontological aspects, and much patience. But this scroll--some sections of its obscure language Keter could not translate, so he had been unsure what sort of entity its incantation would summon. Still, the pronunciation of the words seemed straightforward enough, and Keter was confident that the summoning circle he had carefully inscribed on the floor, plus the separate protective circle in which he himself stood, would be sufficient. The sections of the scroll that he could translate hinted at an entity of great power, and that was what he needed. In this case, however, he had barely begun the ritual before the concentric summoning and warding circles were filled with a great deal of--he was unsure quite what. Smoke, perhaps. Some thick vapor, certainly, magically charged enough to activate the wards that trapped the contents within the circle. Keter had summoned creatures from other planes in the past--lost souls, demons--what student of the mystic sciences had not?--and this was not the first time he had broken university protocols; but this was very much the first time he had broken those protocols by daring to summoned a devil--a higher, more dangerous order of demon with more autonomy than the common herd.

The choice had been forced upon him by circumstance. If he summoned some garden-variety demon, it might feel beholden to report his business to its superiors or, worse yet, his instructors--the news might make its way to Satan himself, which would never do. Satan had a well-established reputation of being entirely unsympathetic to human sorcerers these days, and especially to Keter after that last time, an astral field trip when Keter had led a small class of students almost all the way to the Third Circle of Satan's domain and had barely managed to escape. If Satan ever gave the guards at the doors of Hell an all-access guest list for visiting human sorcerers--an idea Keter decided might was not unlikely as it first seemed--then his name surely was not on it.

Keter needed a devil, then. A reasonably free agent that did its acts of wickedness and subversion on its own recognizance rather than kowtowing to the great Satan and his menagerie of generals in the lowest ring of Hell. Keter had gone through the university's extensive Occult Sciences library--not exactly lying about his authorization, but certainly letting the librarians assume his search had more departmental endorsement than was strictly factual--harvesting the true Names of any such things he could find. Then, by deduction and lot, he discarded most of them--until he had happened across this dusty old scroll, with a Name not on the other lists. This entity, he supposed, must be almost forgotten and therefore rarely summoned; ergo, this entity would likely be more tractable to the wiles of a cunning mortal such as himself.

The disadvantage of such a method was that he had found no indications, other than the implication based on the marginal drawing, as to the nature of the devil whose closest pronounceable name was Xhenorey but whose True Name was riddled with ululations, glottal stops, and--unavoidably--sprays of saliva. Keter had therefore duly ululated, glottal-stopped, and spat his way through the summoning--and been rewarded with the diabolical manifestation that now stood before him, repeating "Eck!"

While advanced doctoral students had leeway to perform a wide range of rituals as part of their researches, Keter had not bothered seeking approval to conduct this one. None of the faculty would give sanction to summoning a devil. And anyway, why should he need to their small-minded approval?--He already had more experience with matters involving the Realms Infernal than most of them. They would have simply rejected his request based on some impressively thick academic policy, and then he would have had to find some way to proceed anyway without their permission. So this way, he reasoned, he saved time by skipping directly to the inevitable.

Keter had chosen to summon this devil in a workroom at the far side of the university; the workrooms were located well away from the classrooms, dorms, fraternity houses, and administrative buildings in case something went awry. This particular one, seldom used or checked by security, was aligned to one of Hell's sundry back doors. Given all the space, Keter had decided to draw a larger-than-usual circle for the summoning, and the serendipity of that action he now appreciated. The candlelight glimmered from the dark armor of Xhenorey's body and legs, and Keter realized this devil was not an exact analogue of a true spider; something weapon-like about the abdomen and limbs made them perhaps even more disconcerting than the appendages of an unfeasibly massive arachnid. Xhenorey's forebody would have made him stand at least as tall as Keter's six feet, had the devil been possessed of more conventional legs. The spider-like aspect of him made the entity stand in total a good three feet taller than Keter, and the tips of Xhenorey's legs circumscribed the inner edge of the broad summoning circle easily.

"Eck," the great man-spider announced one last time, as though finally tiring of the novelty of human language. The devil smiled wider. "Such an amusing sound. I think I like you, mortal," he said. "Wizards are usually such damned serious lot. But you're funny. I don't believe I've met a funny mortal before."

Keter hesitated; he was not accustomed to being considered comedic either. "No, I didn't mean to ..."

The man-spider sighed. "So why have you brought me here, little wizard?"

The devil seemed well-spoken, Keter mused, so it was probably not a simpleton. Perhaps just flighty? Keter decided he could work with this, simply a matter of binding the devil and keeping it--him--whatever--focused on the required task.

The devil, appearing not to notice Keter's frown of concentration, continued, "Do you have some particular whim you want me to fulfill? Or"--Xhenorey stroked one hand sensuously across his bare human chest, and Keter found himself suddenly wondering what that nipple would feel like, taste like, under his tongue, what that finger would be like to suck--"perhaps a young horny stud like you finds my form comely? I tried to choose a form that you would find ... appealing." Keter imagined the rasp of his tongue against that neck--

Keter felt himself blushing as he snapped out of his near-daydream, suddenly aware of his erection constrained in his trousers, hoping it did not show. What had he been doing?--Ah, yes. He needed to regain control of this situation, and quickly. "I abjure thee, O spirit, to be bound by this covenant!" announced Keter in his firmest voice, the one he used to show freshmen in his Intro to Ritual Magic seminar that even a teaching assistant like he brooked no shenanigans. One had to be firm with students, demons, and, he presumed, devils. "By the power of the Great Names, I--"

The devil glared at him in astonishment. "Are you trying to bind me? You are, aren't you? You're trying to bind me!" The expression shifted to a smirk and a flirtatious wink. "You naughty boy."

"There is no 'trying' about it, sir," said Keter. "You're not leaving that circle until I have guarantees as to your obedience and my safety."

"Well, here's the thing, stud. I know we haven't been properly introduced yet, but you don't mind me calling you 'stud,' do you? If I were a demon, you'd be doing the right thing. They're all tangled up in those confusing castes and fealties and duties to one another. Terribly feudal, I know but, hey, it seems to work for them. So, you call in favors from the higher-ups to gain power over somebody lower in the chain, right? That's what a binding is, right? The problem is, a devil like me, I'm a free agent; at least that's the best analog you mortals can understand. The summary version is that the Great Names can go fuck themselves for all I care--which might be fun to watch, come to think of it. But you can't bind me, stud. Sorry." Xhenorey shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest, and seemed genuinely saddened.

Keter was nonplussed. His plan depended on having a devil as an agent. He could not see how to proceed if such a simple prerequisite as binding turned out to be unavailable to him. "Oh," he said, and sat on the floor in his protection circle. "That ... is disappointing."

Xhenorey again shrugged sympathetically but offered no suggestions.

Keter wondered aloud, "If what you say is true, I don't understand how devils can be bound. If I have no way to bend your obedience to my will, how do I ensure your cooperation and my safety? I've read of devils helping wizards many times."

"Ah!" said the entity, raising his index finger to highlight the important point Keter had inadvertently raised. "That's just it, stud. 'Helping.' This is just a thought, but you could always try asking nicely."

"Asking? Nicely?" Keter shook his head wearily. "Sir, I am tired and dismayed. Do not mock me. I am not in the mood--not at all."

"I'm not mocking you, stud," Xhenorey said, slightly offended. "I'm perfectly serious. Look, you want a guarantee? A devil's word is his bond, just as much as it for demons. We're far more reliable than humans that way, and yet somehow we're the evil ones?" He shrugged again at such injustice.

Keter found his interest piqued. "You mean, a negotiation?"

"Exactly." Xhenorey smiled pleasantly. "Give me what I want, and you can have what you want, which includes my promise that I shall not hurt you, magic you into a toad, or otherwise ruin your day."

Keter rose and stared at the entity. "And what would you want?"

The devil looked off as if in deep thought, his expression that of a child eagerly formulating a wish list for holiday presents. "Well," he said after some moments of consideration, "that spell you used to call me here made certain promises. I'm hungry, but especially I'm bored. I haven't been summoned in a very long time. Whatever you want me to do, make sure it's interesting. Also, it would be great to eat a few people like the spell promised. So ... Yes, those are my demands: fun and food."

Keter looked up at the spider-devil Xhenorey and scratched his head as he considered. "Sir," the wizard said slowly, "I believe we have ourselves a deal."

#

As so many quests do, Keter's began with the search for immortality. His interest was largely academic, a research project which he perhaps hoped to turn into his doctoral thesis or an article for a scholarly journal. Life offered incentives for action precisely because it was brief, in his opinion, and he had studied enough history and folklore to know that the past was too full of cautionary tales of immortality attempts gone horribly wrong: living forever but growing older and frailer by the day, for example, or perhaps being frozen in time while the world went on all around. Keter had decided that life robbed of its brevity was also robbed of its necessity for action, and so he considered immortality to be a type of breathing death.

Still, of course, the failure of great minds before him to find immortality meant the search was difficult and therefore worthy of his intellect.

Historically, people who earned great acclaim by announcing the secret to eternal life tended to disappoint their fans by inevitably dying. Still, in his fine-toothed research, Keter had turned up a few stories that warranted further investigation. One such--as Keter informed Xhenorey, who, upon a nest of folded legs, listened with gratifying patience--was the Egyptian sorcerer, Amun Toth, who lived some four thousand years ago. Toth's reputation had not weathered the storms of history well; most references to him also contained the words charlatan or fraud. He was attached to the court of some Pharaoh or other--which Pharaoh exactly tended to vary in the muddled history--for the express purpose of making contact with supernatural entities that would furnish him, and thus the Pharaoh, with the secret of living forever. During a retreat in which he was to make such contact, Toth was shadowed by a spy of the Pharaoh, who observed the great sorcerer walking alone at a time when he would later claim to have been conferring with the spirits. The Pharaoh was profoundly unamused on hearing this, and Toth was executed horribly for his breach of trust by being sawn in two at the waist.

This the history books told Keter and, so far as the story went, the academicians seemed to make the unspoken assumption that Toth therefore must indeed have been a charlatan, because clearly no such thing as magical immortality existed. But to Keter's mind, such an assumption was fallacious. The only way to be sure, of course, was to ask Amun Toth himself.

Twelve weeks beforehand, Keter had organized a small séance, having first polished his Old Egyptian dialects so he would have a decent chance of being understood by the dead man's spirit. These preliminaries proved unnecessary; he could not find Amun Toth's spirit in order to converse with it. This by itself was not unusual; most dead people enjoy the taciturnity of eternity and do not care to chat. At first Keter assumed this was the case, but subsequent ventures with lot and circle confused him. Calling Amun Toth simply did not result in any connection whatsoever on the other side.

Keter knew that sometimes the dead are entirely unreachable or undetectable in the afterlife, usually in situations where their souls have been consumed by powerful otherworldly entities, but Keter also knew such to be a rare situation. Why this should happen to Amun Toth caught Keter's curiosity, and he proceeded with a series of experiments to find the truth of the affair. As he embarked on these experiments, he noted that small, odd things were befalling him. As a wizard of some skill, he was not unaccustomed to small, odd things befalling him, but these were odd even by his standards.

First, a group of crows attempted to murder him. Keter had been walking home from the university when a parliament of perhaps fifty of the birds had decamped from a pair of yew trees and tried their best to peck him to death before he reached the safety of his apartment. The flock broke off its attack to retreat back to the yew trees, where the birds proceeded to indulge in a great deal of cawing at one another, glowering at his window well into the night.

That was odd, but the next incident was extraordinary. Keter had been running a hot bath and had withdrawn to his bedroom to retrieve fresh clothing. On returning to the bath, his sense of smell told him that something was amiss, and his stinging eyes reinforced this. He closed the taps and stared with dismay at the disintegrating remains of his loofah breaking apart in the bath water. He left the room quickly, coming back only when he was swathed in protective gear, rubber gauntlets, and a military-surplus gasmask. A brief investigation demonstrated that the bath water was no longer anything of the sort, but was now highly acidic. Laboratory testing demonstrated it to be a mix of acids of disturbingly high molarity.

Keter knew that many people and supernatural entities would delight in his death, but he was intrigued to know who had felt the need to visit such an outrage upon his loofah, and thus he began a process of deductive reasoning. While his list of enemies, mostly ex-boyfriends, was extraordinarily long, the majority of them fell into categories characterized by a markedly lack of magical talent in general. Indeed, Keter's devotion to his workings in magic were what earned their anger in the first place--that, and the occasional unauthorized grave-robbing for spell ingredients. So these enemies, he decided, were unlikely to resort to sorcery even if to try to kill him.

Enemies with magical skills were far fewer, mostly fellow teaching assistants, academic rivals, and the occasional former professor. And those capable of penetrating the defensive wards about his apartment brought the short list down to none at all. Deductive logic having failed, Keter was forced to conclude that the perpetrator was some new enemy, and one of great power. He wondered what he might have recently done to aggravate such a person, when the only thing he was currently engaged upon was the hunt for an Egyptian sorcerer dead for approximately four millennia.

The realization dropped upon him like an anvil. "Oh," he had said, "so that's the way it's going to be?"

Xhenorey said, "So you're saying that this dead Egyptian fellow disintegrated your loofah, whatever a loofah is?"

"I am," said Keter, "and he did so with the intention that I would be scrubbing my back with it at the time. If I hadn't taken a moment to fetch my clothes, I would have been in the bath when the water was transmuted into hot acid."

"I see. Well, this Amun Toth certainly has a little creative pizzazz about him."

"I'm not here to award points for originality," said Keter. "I'm trying to find out why he's being so damnably defensive."

"Mysterious, isn't it? Well, stud, it's interesting enough, but what about the feeding?"

"Yes, I was going to ask you about that. Why specifically do you wish to eat people? You don't strike me as especially cruel."

"Oh, I'm not," Xhenorey said, seemingly irked at the accusation. "Demons, imps, and that sort may go in for petty sadism, but we devils have more ... refined tastes. As for the why: to be exact, I'm hungry. I can last a long time on a small snack, but a boy likes to indulge in a buffet now and then."

"You really intend to eat them?"

"Not exactly," Xhenorey replied, and smiled charmingly.

"I cannot promise that there will be opportunities for killing and eating ..."

"Aww ..."

"But there is a good likelihood of souls for the devouring, if that's what your intent truly is?"

"Close enough," said Xhenorey. "I'll trust you. You have an honest face."

"Uh ... Thank you," said Keter, frowning. "I feel so very validated now."

"Super!" said the devil, impervious to sarcasm. "Now if you'll let me out of this circle ...?"

"Not so fast, sir. I still need your word and bond before that happens." He produced a notebook and an ink pen from his pocket, selected a fresh page, and proceeded to write. He regretted not having prepared a document earlier, but he had not expected to need one.

Xhenorey wrinkled his nose. "You're not writing up a contract, are you? How boring. Can't I just say I'll help you, I won't harm you, I won't look for any of those annoying loopholes demons are so obsessive about, blah-blah-blah, and then we can just start this adventure?"

Keter's pen paused. He slowly looked up at the devil.

"Guide's honor," Xhenorey added, raising two fingers together in a benediction of sorts.

"You will forgive me, but one should use a long spoon when one dines with the devil." Keter returned his attention to his writing.

The spider-devil considered this for a moment, brow furrowed. "Why?"

The pen paused again. Keter was beginning to believe he would not be getting much peace to write. "'Why what?"

"Why would you use a long spoon when dining with Satan?"

"It's a metaphor--about trust. It means one should be cautious."

"I know it's a metaphor, stud. I'm not an idiot." A theatrical roll of the eyes. "I don't understand it, though. Do your elbows not work properly in this metaphor or something? How does a long spoon keep you away from Satan at this metaphorical dinner party of yours?"

"I think perhaps the idea is that both the devil and the person are dining from the same pot."

"How do you know you're gastronomically compatible? The things Satan eats sometimes would turn your mortal stomach. Would you really sup out of the same pot as he?" said Xhenorey in astonishment.

"No," admitted Keter, "I wouldn't."

"Then this 'long spoon' of yours"--Xhenorey somehow managed to make long spoon sound like sexual innuendo--"isn't going to help."

Keter frowned and assessed this. Then he sighed, ripped the page from his notebook, and discarded it. "Guide's honor?" he asked.

Xhenorey raised two fingers together in a salute. "Guide's honor," he said solemnly. "Swear, swear, swear. That means I claim you and won't let anyone harm you during this adventure."

Not without misgivings, Keter walked to the edge of the protective summoning circle, considered a moment more, and then scrubbed out part of the perimeter with his foot. A bit of wind brushed his clothes as the air pressure inside the circle and outside equalized. "I suppose now is when you leap out, call me a foolish mortal, and eat me?"

Xhenorey glared at him. "I swore," he groused, sounding offended.

"My apologies, sir," said Keter. "You did indeed swear." He rubbed his forehead. "Shall we go?"

"Where exactly are we heading, stud?" asked Xhenorey, using that nickname lightly and without permission. The spider devil paused and sniffed the air. "I smell ..." He inhaled again. "Is that chaos?"

Keter nodded. "It is. You have acute senses."

"Well, I am a devil. Certain things ..." He regarded Keter warily. "Perhaps I should have asked a few more questions before agreeing to this expedition, like: where are we going, and why exactly do you want me along?"

Keter nodded. "Those would have been wise questions to ask."

"I'm impetuous sometimes. Anyway, I shall ask them now."

"Simply put, we're going to Hell, and I need you as my guide and protection."

"That's sensible, given that you're asking to enter Hell, and it's a big place. Lucky for you, I'm somewhat familiar with the Abyss. That's where we're going, isn't it? You've been probing, and little bits of chaos have bled out through your scrying spells. Nowhere else smells like that."

"I require that you guide me into Hell and into the Abyss," confirmed Keter.

"Hell," said Xhenorey, "is an orderly place--rules and regulations; hierarchies and so forth. But the Abyss is a pit of chaos. We don't like it very much because of that. Terrible place for a tourist hike, much less a campsite. My point is, your Amun Toth simply can't be in there. The chaos would have torn him apart long ago."

"Very true, sir. If he were exposed to pure chaos for any length of time, his soul would have been shredded and eventually dispersed. There is, however, one place ..."

"No!" Seeing a devil distressed must be a rare occurrence. "We can't go there! If Satan finds out ..."

"I thought you were a free agent, Xhenorey? Go where you want, do what you want; the infernal embodiment of footloose and fancy-free?"

"That does not give me carte blanche to go larking around in Satan's grandest mistake! It is absolutely forbidden!"

"Is it?" Keter said it lightly.

"Yes! Well, no, not exactly forbidden--he didn't actually say that. But he dumped it in the Abyss, and he made his displeasure very--"

"Hell is an orderly place," quoted Keter. "Rules and regulations. Do any of those rules expressly forbid entrance to the Abyss?"

"No ... But no one would be insane enough--"

"Do any regulations declare Pandemonium off-limits?"

"No. No, they don't." Xhenorey smiled suddenly. "Ah, I see. Really can't complain, then, can he?"

"Assuming he even finds out. I surely won't be telling him."

Xhenorey said, "I've never actually been inside Pandemonium, stud. You realize that, don't you? It was dropped into the Abyss before I was even born."

Keter frowned as he picked up his backpack of useful tools for the field trip and shouldered it. "I admit some familiarity would have been useful, but that's a small matter. I am more curious about the idea of a devil being born. I thought that you and your kind are essentially eternal, since the original creation?"

"Oh, no. For the original fallen angels, yes, and there are a lot of them. But the rest of us were spawned from the sins of the world, and slowly we gained form and personality." He took a deep breath and smiled. "But enough nostalgia. Onward. Pandemonium-ho! Come here, little wizard, so I can carry you." Almost too quickly for Keter to realize what was happening, Xhenorey leaned his nude torso forward and held out his arms to Keter.

"Hold on," Keter yelped, recoiling.

"Is there a problem?" the devil asked.

"Sir," Keter replied, "do you think you could possibly wear clothes first?"

Xhenorey looked at him curiously. "Such as? Mittens? Boots?"

"I was thinking more of the human part of you. Your torso is naked--most indecent."

"Do you not find me comely?" Xhenorey said, back in flirtatious mode. "I chose this form because I thought you might find it handsome."

"Your handsomeness is not in dispute. But it is distracting. Surely no decent--"

"Oh, don't be a prude, stud."

"I am no prude. Far from it, I rather enjoy--"

"Be calm, stud. This is for your own protection."

Something about Xhenorey's voice made Keter feel odd, disoriented, but his fear seemed to drain away. Before he realized what was happening, Xhenorey had seized his shoulders and lifted him with inhumanly strong arms, spinning him rapidly, weaving white webbing around him. Keter had a moment of horror as he wondered what forward organ produced the webbing, and a quick whirling glance confirmed his fears before the threads began to cover his face.

"Take a deep breath and hold it, little wizard," Xhenorey instructed, and Keter did.

Inside his cocoon of webbing, Keter felt the sudden shift across planes as Xhenorey began his descent into the Realms Infernal. Keter's previous journeys to Hell and the nearby areas had involved a more traditional approach, sending his spirit, his soul, out of his body and through the plane of Limbo, and from there to Hell's border crossing, and then sneaking past the gatekeeper. That route was of no use to him now, since going in through the front door would certainly bring him to the attention of Satan and thus was to be avoided. Too, the Abyss was not accessible through the standard Nine Circles of Hell geography. The chaos of the Abyss was dangerous, and Hell was more alert to health and safety than one might expect: after all, one cannot enjoy an eternity of damnation if one were torn to tatters by unbridled chaotic energies.

Thus, the route was obscure and untraveled, which suited Keter very well indeed, and he needed a guide to ensure he did not become lost. And he had not fully expected that Xhenorey would transport him physically, body and all, to hell. Why, the amount of raw supernatural power required--and to expend it so casually--

Xhenorey's voice filtered through the webbing. "We're getting close to the Abyss. Won't be much longer."

They were indeed. Keter could feel the oppressive heat and dry rasp of the wind even through his cocoon. His previous trips had been astral, and his soul-self did not need to breathe, so this first physical experience of the air in Hell shocked him.

The threads around him began to loosen and fall away, and Keter looked around. Around them, the dark gulf of the Abyss boomed and echoed, every sound ricocheting from the steep, rocky walls. The shifting scale and something about the very nature of the place threatened insanity upon him.

"You can breathe again, stud," said Xhenorey, inhaling deeply himself. "Bracing, isn't it? Nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."

"Yes ... I ...," said Keter, speechless, disoriented and overwhelmed, his mind sent reeling into irrationality by the environment. Up, down, distance--even those elementary concepts seemed to mean nothing here.

Xhenorey sighed. "Mortals. You just can't take the slightest collapse in the laws of causality across the planes, can you? Still, shifting your body across into Hell must be more discombobulating than the child's-play astral methods you probably used before. Come along, little wizard; let's get you somewhere more probable."

In the looming shadows, amid forms too chaotic to be merely random, Xhenorey pointed to an edge, straight and true. Keter found gauging any scale impossible--the edge could as easily have been an inch long or a mile--but it was the only regular form within the Abyss. Xhenorey lifted him again, holding Keter like a babe against his muscular chest, and leapt without hesitation toward edge, trailing a silken thread behind them as they fell, the devil a model of concentration, and Keter babbling nonsense in multiple languages.

Through the Abyss they plummeted, or possibly rose. Xhenorey was, Keter realized as his faculties began to acclimate and return, enjoying himself. The very quality of obscurity that Keter had sought in selecting Xhenorey must have rendered the devil's existence boring. Xhenorey seemed too proud to lower himself to prodding the spirits of the damned as they basted in liquid brimstone, but neither was he often summoned. Perhaps the rare occasions when some magus or another called upon him had resulted in few repeat performances. Perhaps--and here Keter remembered the devil's desire to eat people--through the centuries Xhenorey had left a trail of dead magi behind him, more as a matter of his nature rather than from any animosity toward them.

Here Xhenorey was, however, on some desperate mission whose particulars Keter had intentionally kept vague, grinning gleefully as he rappelled into the Abyss in the company of somebody who had admitted to being on Satan's voluminous shit-list.

Xhenorey reached a leg to a parapet and hooked the tip around the edge there, drawing himself and his burbling cargo onto the tower top. As he gained a proper footing, Keter became less shattered by degrees until he was able to say, "That was not at all enjoyable."

"That was the most fun I've had in ages," said the devil Xhenorey.

Keter found Pandemonium to be surprisingly ordered. Then again, against the backdrop of the Abyss, he decided that the point of Pandemonium was never chaos, even though its name had become synonymous for it. Back in the early days, when they was full of pep and their Fall was still fresh, Satan and his lieutenants had created Pandemonium in an hour, though Keter supposed time perhaps worked differently here. Back then, Satan regarded himself as something of a laissez-faire captain, a nominal leader, generally to be respected but only turned to for direction during times of crisis. With that egalitarian view, meant to demonstrate that God's notoriously hands-on style of obsessive hierarchy and micro-management was unnecessary, even patronizing, Satan built Pandemonium as a parliament for his devils. Here they would gather, discuss the issues of the day, and enact policies and laws, all intended to be democratic. Just because he and his fallen angels had been a little uppity in the face of God was no reason to doubt that they could govern themselves like sensible, thoughtful entities. Thus, thinking of how university department meetings often likewise degenerated, Keter quite understood how as a prideful entity like Satan must have felt when he realized that he could not fill a large parliamentary building with devils and demons and expect them to behave like a sensible beings. The drinking. The animalistic growling and squawking and endless noise. The vomiting. The flows of excrement. Thus far, Keter mused, this parliament of Hell was probably indistinguishable from most human equivalents, but their refusal to get down to any real work must have galled Satan. Finally he admitted that Pandemonium was a terrible error, strapped the great building to Leviathan's back, and told it to dump the short-lived parliament into the Abyss. This Leviathan did, and that was that. Now Pandemonium, lodged against one wall of the chaotic Abyss, was the great unmentionable error that Keter kept mentioning.

"So, this is Pandemonium," Keter muttered, scratching his head in an unconscious habit. "It's, ah, bigger than I expected." Its full size was difficult to grasp, since distance and perspective seemed to fluctuate in the chaos of the Abyss, but the building seemed at least twice the size he had expected. Still, Keter's gaze was drawn to a great spiked tower on one corner, with empty gibbet-cages hanging from the ends of long iron poles and flailing in the chaos-storm of the Abyss. He watched the cages thrash for some moments, then said, "If I know anything about sorcerers--and I do--Amun Toth will have made himself at home up there."

Xhenorey followed his gaze to the tower with an expression of mild uncertainty. "What makes you so sure?"

"I'm not entirely sure. But I've read plenty of history, and there's a consistent thread there. Before the modern era, sorcerers seemed fascinated by towers, mountaintops, and high places. Give them a tower to hide in and they were up the stairs like a weasel up a drainpipe. Towers exert a strange attraction for sorcerers. Caves too, but only if a tower isn't handy."

"Even for you?"

Keter scowled at Xhenorey. "I have never had an urge to take up residence in a tower."

"But I bet you would if a suitable tower presented itself, though."

Keter suddenly realized that the Department of Occult Sciences at the university was in the topmost floor of a tall building--and his own apartment was on the top level its building. Not exactly towers, but close. He coughed and looked around, and pointed. "I don't see a way to access it directly from this rooftop. If we go down those stairs, perhaps we can search forward from there."

#

Presently Keter and Xhenorey walked down a broad corridor. Inside, the harsh heat was slightly more bearable, but only slightly. Keter in his previous visits to Hell had been spirit-only, and he had not felt the heat or had to breathe the rasping air. The dimness of the high-vaulted passage was illuminated partially by the lightning flashes of uncertain existence outside and by flickering candle-like lights of eternal hellfire in shoulder-high sconces here and there along the way. Above them loomed a deep darkness, the monstrous architecture of the building occasionally revealed during the flashes from outside. Keter found himself thinking that Satan should definitely have hired a better architect. From the large windows, they could see the Abyss below, and the Abyss above. Keter found that looking into the Abyss for more than a few seconds threatened to give him a headache. He had better things to do than sightsee in any case, and they progressed at a brisk pace in the direction of the tower. Keter was walking in the lead, and Xhenorey politely crept along behind him, although Keter suspected the devil could gallop along on his many legs far faster than any running human.

After a long stretch of walking, they reached a corner that surely led to the entrance of the tower. Keter signaled to Xhenorey to wait, while he advanced on tiptoe to peek around the corner and reconnoiter. To his vast satisfaction, he saw the door he sought. To his equally vast irritation, he saw proof of occupancy: the door to the tower was guarded. Oddly, the two guards were human--or appeared so. Either way, the men were heavily built, nearly naked except for loincloth-like wraps about their waists for modesty and what appeared to be light leather-and-chainmail armor around their shoulders and upper chests, the brevity of their garb probably a wise decision in this heat. Both guards stood, and each cradled a huge, ornate sword in his arms.

To be able to stand guard like this for long periods and especially while holding a sword was in itself a great feat, both mentally and physically. Keter wondered whether they were under the influence of some charm that enhanced their ability to stay focused and stave off boredom, potentially their stamina too. He calculated the men's likely strength to be an obstacle in his ongoing mission to locate Amun Toth, find out what he knew of import about immortality, and then chastise him for his little pranks involving murderous crows and hot acid baths. Keter's list of possible chastisements began with kill and ended there too.

"What's going on?" whispered Xhenorey, spooking Keter who jumped back to find that the devil-spider had soundlessly snuck up close behind him. "What's the plan?" Xhenorey was unable to hide his glee at being out and about.

"This is to be an infiltration, followed by an interrogation, and then, in all likelihood, an execution," said Keter, also in a whisper. "If you could please avoid acting like we're a pair of children sneaking off behind Mommy's back to spy on the neighbors, perhaps this would all feel a little more professional."

Xhenorey put on a serious expression. "What's the plan?" he asked again, this time half an octave lower.

Keter sighed. "Discipline doesn't come naturally to you devils, does it?"

Xhenorey slowly lowered himself until his head was more or less at eye level with Keter's, and Keter found himself unnerved at the raw lust in the devil's expression. "You must teach me all about discipline, the very first chance you get." Xhenorey smiled hungrily and licked his lips.

Keter was disconcerted and flushed with bewildering arousal and embarrassment. "Uh--the plan. Ah ..." He peered around the corner again. "We have two guards perhaps a hundred yards away. Beside the one on the far side is a warning gong. In no way do we want him to strike it. I think the best way to--"

Keter looked around for Xhenorey, only to discover that he was gone. Given the devil's size, this was a remarkable disappearance in itself, and Keter wondered if the storming chaos outside were somehow to blame. This theory he discarded quickly, and then feared that perhaps Xhenorey had actually gone to engage the guards instead. The moment that thought struck him, Keter braced himself for the booming of the gong, but the alarm was not sounded. Cautiously, he looked back around the corner.

Xhenorey, hanging upside down from a slender thread of penis-extruded webbing, descended from the ceiling above the guards. Before Keter could react, the guards noticed the motion and looked up. One raised his sword.

Instead of attacking or sounding the alarm, the guards simply froze; they stood and stared at the spider.

"That's it," Xhenorey murmured, descending further. "Come closer, my friends. Closer."

The guards shuffled nearer, making no sound, still staring. Xhenorey shifted the webline. He wrapped an arm around each guard, pulling them both against his chest, swords and all. In a blur of motion, the spider-devil was gone, disappeared into the shadows at the ceiling.

The gong hung unattended and silent.

Keter cautiously poked his head out further. He saw no sign of either the guards or Xhenorey. He tiptoed out quietly, so as not to alert any potential horde of guards on the other side of the door. He progressively heard and saw nothing, and soon he stood in front of door himself.

"Where the blazes are you?" he whisper-hissed into the darkness overhead. A sound in the shadowed rafters gave him something to focus on, off to one side, and there he thought he saw a glistening chitinous form moving. He squinted harder but could not discern what exactly he was seeing, other than that it was comprised of three shapes. "What are you doing up there?"

"Busy!" whispered Xhenorey from above. "Be with you shortly."

Something fluttered down from the shadows and landed on the floor nearby. After a moment, Keter recognized it: the loincloth worn by one of the guards. "What the--?" Keter began to realize and gave a disgusted snort and turned away.

He walked away a few steps, but he could not escape the noises from above. One guard whimpered--the speaker could hardly be anyone except one of the guards--and then the other sounded out too, soft cries at first of fear, then of ecstasy, sometimes of both. They sounded muffled, as though partially cocooned in webbing. Keter recognized the rhythmic, wet sucking sounds; the sounds, along with the discarded loincloth on the floor, left little doubt as to what was happening in the darkness above. Though his mind felt a sort of revulsion, Keter felt his penis respond instinctively to the thought, thickening, hardening, as prickles of arousal ran across his skin.

One guard cried out softly, one last time: a long moan, filled with dark pleasure and release. Then the other guard groaned similarly; his lasted a full minute, far beyond the normal capacity of human lungs to maintain, Keter thought, but the guard was in the process of discovering that perhaps Xhenorey had the ability to extend some human capacities far beyond the norm.

Then the cry dwindled, and stopped.

Xhenorey emerged from the shadows near two cocooned shapes and clicked lightly down the wall. He smiled slyly at Keter, who glared stonily back. "You're being all judgmental, aren't you?" Xhenorey purred, wiping the former of his mouth. "Well, I told you I was hungry, and transporting you here to Hell took a lot out of me. Plus they were in the way. Two birds, one stone, to borrow another of those human metaphors you love some much. I mean, really, did you have a better plan?"

Beyond the door, no further guards--just another hallway and more stairs.

As they walked, "I thought," said Keter with pointed emphasis, "that you said that you don't eat people."

"I don't," Xhenorey agreed smugly with a half-smile. "Well, only sort of."

"So," said Keter, "you're an incubus?"

"Incubine," Xhenorey corrected him. "It's more of a general category, a method of feeding. Incubi and succubi are the examples you humans always think of, but they're really the same organism, since we devils can assume either male or female form. Many demons and devils eat flesh in addition to souls or have venom and enzymes to suck out liquefied innards." He grimaced. "A bit uncivilized, if you ask me. Lacks the personal touch."

"Your refined sensibilities suit you well, sir."

"You think so? You're such a sweet man, stud. I'm glad I swore. We're having a lot of fun together, and I haven't killed you yet. That's a nice change of pace."

Keter paused on a step and looked back at him. "Against all common sense, I'm think I'm beginning to like you, too," he said.

"Even though I'm a devil, have a lot of legs, and devour pieces of the souls of my prey through orgasms?"

"So far, on this trip, I have yet to see any of those as bad things."

Xhenorey slapped him lightly on the back. "You charmer!"

They continued up the stairs.

"I've met more than a few demons in my time," said Keter. "You're not at all like them. I didn't realize that the difference between a demon and a devil would be so distinct."

"Don't take me as a typical example," said Xhenorey. "Devils are a varied lot, and I'm my own creature."

"But still evil?"

"Oh, yes," he replied absently.

They climbed in silence a little further.

Then Xhenorey said, "Well, I suppose I'm evil, at any rate. We devils don't think of ourselves in terms like 'good' or 'evil'; but I'm a devil, so evil is the safe assumption. I devour people's souls, after all."

"For sustenance."

"Yes, but I don't have to eat them at all if I don't want to. I'm immortal, after all, though I become a weak thing if I don't snack on an obliging young man now and again."

"Obliging?"

"Unresisting, which ends up being much the same thing. I do have my charms, after all."

"And men only? That seems somewhat unfair."

"Oh, I can prey on women, in theory."

"In theory? How does the practice vary?"

"The few times a woman summoned me, we ended up chatting, and after a while eating their souls seemed impolite. Besides, almost all of the mortals who've called on me have been men."

They walked in silence a little further. Then Xhenorey said, "You're wondering how it works, aren't you?"

"How a giant spider-devil can seduce a human, or how you absorb his soul? Yes. Both mechanisms intrigue and perturb me in equal measure."

"'Mechanisms'? Stud, you're such a romantic. What say I let you watch next time?"

"Sir, I'm not a voyeur."

"It's not voyeurism," Xhenorey teased. "It's science! And don't pretend you didn't get aroused back there with the guards. I can sense such things, you know. An erection is a perfectly natural reaction to all the excess sexual energy being unleashed when I feed."

Keter preferred to remain silent as he pondered this.

As they climbed, Keter continued to forego bantering pleasantries--diverting though they would have been--and concentrate on the trial to come. The soul of Amun Toth had gone to considerable trouble to hide in Pandemonium. Why? Why would Toth have gone to such pains to avoid the attentions of Satan? Had Toth's soul simply shown up at the gates of Hell, Satan probably would have welcomed him and perhaps given him a position in middle management. Back then, Satan was very happy to delegate day-to-day matters whenever possible. Even if that didn't happen, recent restructurings in the processes of Hell meant that it simply was not the pit of eternal punishment that it once was. No, Amun Toth seemed to have put in a lot of effort at staying hidden, especially here in Pandemonium, since using it as a hiding spot would certainly earn Satan's wrath should he ever find out.

Yet here they were, inside Pandemonium, and it was most definitely inhabited, almost certainly by somebody of pre-industrial origins, given the loincloths and armor and impressive swords of the guards they had encountered. And the guards themselves--a thought suddenly occurred to Keter.

"Xhenorey, enlighten me. When you have captured your prey, you, ah, feast upon his soul, yes?"

"Yes. And sometimes a few bodily fluids as a consequence of the sex act, but that's more a matter of personal preference than necessity. You humans--almost everything you do with your bodies involves messy fluids of some sort or another."

"Lovely," he said, distracted. "When you devoured those guards, one of them lost his loincloth, and I saw you left two bodies in cocoons of webbing, correct?"

"Yes. Didn't I just explain all that? Is my memory going? So sad, and I'm still so young and handsome, aren't I?"

"Please set aside your vanity and consider the facts. You devoured part of the guards' souls."

Xhenorey sighed. "Yes."

"Leaving behind their bodies."

"Yes, yes. I have done this before, you know." He stopped on the stairs. "Ah. Yes, stud, I see your point, now."

"How, if the guards were true inmates of Hell, souls of the damned, would they have bodies to leave behind? Exactly my concern."

"They were alive. Mortal men physically in hell." Xhenorey looked at Keter as if this were some clever trick of his. "So how are mortal men physically in Hell?"

"It is not," said Keter, "without precedent."

"Yes, but the energy needed for more than one ... And the rules to be bypassed ... For you this is just a day-trip, but they appeared to have been here a while. I can't see Old Man Satan being at all happy about that. So you think your sorcerer brought a retinue with him."

"An even more pertinent question is: Why would a dead sorcerer need living men as his retinue?"

"Well, Amun Toth's clearly not dead, stud. That's obvious. Have you only just now worked that out?"

"I was working up to it," sighed Keter. "I had planned it to be a 'eureka' rhetorical flourish."

"Oh," said Xhenorey. "Sorry to spoil your moment. But hold on--what about his ... What do you humans call it?--Those things mortals have?" He clicked his fingers triumphantly. "Ah, right!--His life span! Wouldn't he be really old for a mortal by now?"

"He would, yes. We will have to find him to determine whether, for first question, he is a living man or merely a spirit; and for the second, assuming he is alive, how old he appears. In any case, he will have demonstrably discovered a path to human immortality. I'm curious to see how much vitality that secret lends him. According to the folklore, many of his predecessors were not very lucky in that regard."

They passed a number of doors on their way toward to the tower top and dutifully checked each of them. All were unlocked, and all were empty of guards or sorcerers. Many rooms showed signs of recent habitation, however, and Keter calculated that Amun Toth must have at least twenty unaccounted-for guards or other servants lurking around the seemingly abandoned structure. "And you know what that suggests?" he said, risking another rhetorical device.

"Lunch!" guessed Xhenorey.

"No--an ambush."

"I don't see those as mutually exclusive, you know."

As they neared the topmost floor of the tower, Keter grew more cautious, while Xhenorey became more enthusiastic. He had agreed not to dine on or kill Amun Toth unless Keter gave permission, but Toth's guards and staff were fair targets. "Just try to be, you know, discreet," said Keter, though he was unsure what discreet meant in this context.

"I will, stud. I will very discreetly suck the souls out of each and every one of them." Then more soberly, Xhenorey added, "But as much as I enjoy the occasional orgy--or feast, depending on your perspective--I'm concerned by the numbers. If this sorcerer has twenty friends with him, I can hardly ask them to take a number and wait patiently until I get to them, can I? My charms have their limits. If they rush us all at once in an ambush, that may present us with a few difficulties."

Keter had been thinking along the same lines. "I know a few spells," he admitted. "I am a sorcerer, after all. I usually specialize in ritual magic, and I haven't had much time or talent to spend beyond learning the basics of off-the-cuff enchantments. Something about them has always struck me as frivolous or unscientific. But I think the proximity of the chaos stream may magnify whatever skills I have in that direction." He reached into a hidden pocket sewn in his trousers and slid out a few inches of ebony wood, thin and gleaming.

Xhenorey smirked. "Is that a wand in your pocket," he said, "or are you just happy to see me?"

Keter sighed and slid the wand back into concealment.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the attack came. The guards--fourteen, Keter quickly noted--charged down the stairs as Keter and the devil were still some twenty yards from the top and therefore at a tactical disadvantage.

Years of reflexive conditioning had Keter fumbling for his wand in its hidden pocket. Xhenorey meanwhile hollered, "Hello, boys!" in undisguised delight as he waded into the attackers. His earlier concerns about being outnumbered had been disingenuous, Keter noted, as Xhenorey was most definitely a fighter as well as a lover of the more soul-sucking sort. Powerful arachnid limbs shot out and caught guards hard enough in the stomach or chest to knock them from their feet.

While Keter was still wrestling his wand out of his pants pocket, Xhenorey was scuttling up a wall, a struggling guard dangling by the scruff of his neck from a hind leg. "No time for that!" shouted Keter, finally clearing the wand from the cloth.

"Hush, stud," came the reply. "I know what I'm doing. Buy us time. Wave your little woody-thing at them."

Keter truly hated wands. Now that the wretched thing was in his hand, he felt as he always had in the very few previous instances when he used one outside of a classroom: foolish. Clearing his mind before using it was a pleasure, as it allowed him to ignore how silly he must look.

The chaos outside the walls provided a constant background hum of magical energies, the least ability of which was to cause blinding headaches. The trick was to let the rolling static of creation flow through his consciousness without letting it catch on any of his thoughts along the way. Chaos was impressionable and easily picked up on the mind's desires, but like a feral thing it tended not to interpret those desires the way the channeling mind intended. While one might desire to see one's enemies knocked backward, for example, chaos might accomplish that desire by making one's cerebellum explode with the force of a grenade. No, Keter knew, the best plan was just to push the stuff in the direction where it could cause the most trouble and then leave it to its own devices.

Chaos spurted from the tip of his wand like a lazily drawn line, curving gently in long sinuous waves as it snaked up the stairs and struck a guard squarely in the chest. The guard must have been thinking that he did not want to trip and bounce head-first down the stairway, because his feet zipped out from under him as though the steps had become greased, and he skated down the stairs on his ass like a child on a playground slide. This would have been a tactical coup if the guard had been to the rear of the attackers, in which case his cascade might have knocked several off their feet. Instead, the guard was in the lead, and so only Keter had to dodge the sliding man and hold his position until the guard passed.

The guards, all identically dressed and equipped, came on, swords slashing at Keter, and he retaliated by slashing the air with his wand, all the time keeping his mind clear of any violent thoughts. Twenty or thirty black blobs of chaos in varying sizes spat from the wand, to ricochet harmlessly off the guards' armor--which was probably enchanted against chaos as a precaution--although at least the spray brought the charge to a premature halt.

A guard raised his sword, probably thinking to run Keter through with it, and stepped on a chaos-blob; immediately a longsword sprang up through his foot. The guard's cry was cut short as he tripped forward and the tip of his own blade caught in the flesh of his throat and then drove through with the force of his tumble. The body clattered toward Keter, who reflexively stepped back, tripped, and himself fell.

As he turned his attention to the possibility of being killed by bouncing down several stone steps and revised his defensive options accordingly, Keter caught a glimpse of something multi-limbed and almost gleeful descending from the dark upper reaches of the ceiling on a silken cable. Xhenorey plucked one of the soldiers off his feet with a foreleg and threw him offhandedly up into the shadows from whence the devil had come. The guard did not come down again.

Xhenorey's further actions were lost as Keter continued his fall. Happily, he went sliding down only a few steps before he caught himself to a halt. He clambered awkwardly to his feet, bruised but unbroken. The guards, except for four who had stepped on fatal chaos blobs and now stood or lay impaled, were all gone.

Keter blinked, confused. He walked painfully up a little way, recovered his dropped wand, and then continued to the top landing, cautiously avoiding the remaining blobs. Once satisfied that he was clear of immediate danger, he looked up into the shadows and braced himself for what he might see there.

Xhenorey descended the wall, leaving behind him a large and ragged web, clearly assembled in great haste. Scattered about it were multiple cocooned forms. A guard's foot stuck out of one.

"Won't they suffocate?" asked Keter, out of curiosity rather than concern.

"Never have in the past. Anyway, they tend to breathe deeply and slowly once I've given them a taste of my special charms."

"'Special'?"

"Special," Xhenorey confirmed. "I've entranced them into comas, with pleasant, priapic dreams to charge their souls to the brim with sexual energy. Useful if I want a snack later. Now, stud, shall we proceed?"

The great double doors of the topmost chamber were unlocked, a lack of precaution that Keter ascribed to their quarry's overweening arrogance. The doors slammed open with a satisfying crash when Xhenorey shoved his forelegs against them. Keter advanced, the wand tucked back into its pocket, held ready for a rapid draw by the guise of him strolling in nonchalantly with both hands in his trouser pockets. "Amun Toth," said Keter in his best Old Egyptian, "we have come to talk with you. Please stop sending your men to attack us. We have better ways to spend our time."

A swirl of smoke, and Amun Toth stood before them, dressed in the style of a noble of his dynasty. He seemed to be in his forties, sleek and smooth in a manner that troubled Keter. Toth seemed too confident. A memory nagged at Keter; something about Toth disturbed him, but he could not quite remember what.

"You," said Amun Toth in a surprisingly high-pitched and youthful tone--perhaps a side-effect of his longevity, thought Keter, though he was more impressed that Toth had replied in unaccented modern speech. "You speak the language of my people"--he folded his arms--"as if your mouth were an asshole with lips."

Keter was not sure how to respond to that.

"That's a bit harsh," said Xhenorey in perfect Old Egyptian. "I thought it was a good try, for a beginner. Well, a decent try, anyway."

"Could we discuss my linguistic shortcomings later, please?" grumbled Keter, lapsing into modern speech himself. To Toth, he said, "Sir, our journey here has been one of much trouble and many difficulties. I come to you simply as a fellow occult scholar and seeker of deep secrets. I would greatly appreciate if you would stop trying to kill me."

"You are both a child and a fool," said Amun Toth. "You came here to steal my secrets, but you will find only your death."

Keter sighed. "Just once, I would like to meet a fellow traveler upon the same paths of mystic research who doesn't wish me dead on sight."

"You get a lot of this, then?" asked Xhenorey.

Keter sighed. "You have no idea." He addressed Amun Toth once more. "I can understand your prior attempts to kill me. The crows and the acid bath. You simply wished to be left alone. I sympathize with that. I might have done similar things myself. I understand and forgive them. Now, however, I am here, and we can perhaps help one another."

Amun Toth glared at Keter, and in Egyptian said many hurtful things, proposing a long run of bestiality in Keter's ancestors, along with some enthusiastically sexual career choices for his mother that Keter knew to be untrue. Only when Keter's family tree dating back four generations was thoroughly doused with vitriol was Toth convinced that Keter had been sufficiently insulted.

Keter pursed his lips. "And," he said, "that is your final answer?"

Toth's mouth curled into a curved and sleek sneer.

"Very well. I see you have your laboratory here. Your writings shall have to suffice. I am more than done with you. Xhenorey, be so kind as to suck the soul from this ... shit in human form."

"Sounds so appetizing when you put it like that, but a boy has to eat." Then to Amun Toth, he said, "Look into my eyes, lover. You're about to get the sex of your life."

Toth's sneer not only failed to vanish, but instead deepened. "I know what you are, monster. An incubine demon. A poor sort of parasite."

Xhenorey was astonished. He looked at Keter. "Did you hear that? He called me a demon--to my face! I'm about to off him in any number of interesting ways, and he insults me!" Xhenorey looked back at the wizard, eyes narrowing and a snarl growing on his face. "I was going to make it quick and pleasant, but you are going to linger, little man. I am going to drag the life from you, a nibble at a time, and you will beg me to finish you. And when you have pleaded for the thousandth time, you will still have nine thousand more to go before I first say 'no' the first time."

It was an impressive threat, although the terrors it promised seemed a bit time-consuming for Keter's schedule. Amun Toth, however, seemed splendidly unconcerned. Somehow, he managed to deepen the sneer still further. Good thing that Toth's complexion was so very sleek, thought Keter, or he would have torn his face by now.

Then Keter remembered where he had seen somebody that plump and smooth before.

"Your charms cannot harm me, demon," said Amun Toth. "Behold!" And, unexpectedly, he drew up his robes to expose himself. "The energies that you feed upon were sacrificed long ago to give me my magic!"

Xhenorey's anger turned to surprise. "Well, that's just rude."

Keter found himself beholding that which he would much rather not have been beholding. "A eunuch," he said. Of course Amun Toth was a eunuch; many priests of the Pharaoh were--it was written right there in the histories. Keter had read it and disregarded it as irrelevant.

Amun Toth mercifully dropped the edge of his robe, and snapped an incantation, the high tone of his voice now making perfect sense. Everything grew dark.

"Well, this is just embarrassing," said Xhenorey as sudden dark energies swirled around them, "and I say that as somebody who once gang-banged the Macedonian army."

#

Xhenorey and Keter were prisoners. Whatever incantation Amun Toth had cast at them had laid them both out, and Keter had awoken to find himself and the devil in a great cage, his pack taken from him and his wrists in manacles. Xhenorey too was manacled and his legs hobbled in a series of ensorcelled chains until they formed a cage of their own. He lay on his side in what looked like a very uncomfortable position and even Keter, unused to sympathy, felt a little sorry for the devil. This, he decided, was thoroughly discourteous of their host.

Keter had just finished comparing Xhenorey's embarrassment against his own when the door to the dungeon opened and, preceded by guards, Amun Toth entered. At first he pretended not to notice his prisoners and instead walked to a table in the corner where the contents of Keter's pack had been dumped and arranged. Toth sneered his way along the display of surgical instruments, syringes, notebook, binoculars, and other useful apparatus for a student sorcerer-at-large.

"Ridiculous," said the Egyptian wizard. "You came here thinking to destroy me with such things?"

"I came here to ask you to stop trying to destroy me, and perhaps to share our researches. I see now both errands were a waste of time. You have no great power other than what you have learned to focus from the Abyss. The historical records are incorrect. You may have been sentenced to be sawn in half, but it was never carried out. Instead, you somehow escaped to this place; they were never able to find you, and so they claimed to have executed you to save the Pharaoh a bit of embarrassment. This is an ingenious hideout, I grant you. I don't underestimate the difficulty of purifying its energies to a state where you can focus and use them, and I applaud you on your success. But it is a useless discipline outside the Abyss. You are trapped here, because if you were ever to leave, your powers would dwindle away. Am I correct?"

"I am not trapped," said Amun Toth. "I may leave at any time, and have done so several times. How do you think I learned your language? My powers are greater than you surmise, barbarian. But you are correct that here I am unassailable. Even the Great Devil that built this palace could do nothing to me if he dared confront me here."

"Why don't you say that to his face?" said Xhenorey from the floor. "I'd like to see how that works out for you. He has a terrible temper, you know, you little ball-less wonder."

"I am invulnerable here, demon," repeated Amun Toth slowly.

"Demon!" snarled Xhenorey, filled with outrage. "Did you hear that, stud? He called me a lowly demon again. Defend my honor!"

Keter looked over his shoulder at the devil, considered for a moment, and turned back to Amun Toth. "You have insulted my friend. I suggest you apologize."

The wizard laughed, a shrill, unlovely sound. "Or what? Even if you were free, you can do nothing to hurt me. In this citadel, no harm may befall me. No weapon may spill my blood. No poison may work on me. No magic may cause me injury or harm. All will be humbled before me."

Amun Toth swept out, tittering unattractively, followed by his guards. The door slammed shut behind them, and Keter and Xhenorey were left alone.

"What an ass," said Keter.

"You were so sweet, defending my honor like that," said Xhenorey. "A demon he called me. So hurtful. Assuming that stony expression of yours means that you're busily thinking up some clever escape plan, I shall have to give you a proper thank you when we're free. I'll try really hard not to kill you with it."

Keter regarded him dryly. "I notice you're not swearing."

Xhenorey held up his wrists. "Manacles. They impede my swearing, as well as my strength and my magic." He lowered them again and looked seriously at Keter. "Do you have a plan, stud? The awful little man was telling the truth; Satan himself would be hard-pressed to harm him here."

"I don't intending to fight him," said Keter. "To the contrary, I came here with the intent of sharing information and helping him." He smiled a cold, hard smile. "And so we see the cost of failing to search somebody properly."

He had needed a little time and a great deal of concentration, but Keter had been making headway with the wand. It had been lying snugly in the special hidden pocket in his trousers throughout their initial encounter with Amun Toth and had remained undiscovered in their subsequent defeat and incarceration.

#

While a useful focus for Keter's spells, the raw chaos around them still made the wand profoundly unpredictable. The first hour of attempts to materialize a key to unlock their cell had produced a stunning array of objects, none of which were useful their purpose. Rubber balls, nesting dolls, unsuitable shoes, and a collection of old newspapers littered the cell, along with other equally useless items.

Xhenorey had been distracted from his supportive early comments first by the appearance of a cashmere scarf that he claimed on sight, as if there was much chance of Keter wanting it. Unhappily, Xhenorey was unable to put it on because of his manacles, and it dangled from a hanger on the bars beside him while he consoled himself by reading ancient advice columns in the newspapers.

Finally, Keter took a break from trying to conjuring a key from chaos, to consider what he was doing wrong. "The power available here is immense," he said, looking ruefully at the wand, "but something is diverting it from my intent. Toth must have developed some ward or charm for this cell that interferes with others' attempts to utilize chaos for their magic. He suggested that his power here is absolute and, if he's managed to channel the energies outside effectively, I fear he is correct. Claiming to be able to defeat Satan here might not be an idle boast."

"These people talk such nonsense," said Xhenorey, ignoring him. "They claim to offer advice in this column, but all they do is make people's lives more complicated. And their attitudes to sex are so repressive--they talk about it like it's a bad thing."

"Sex with you is a bad thing."

"Not for me, it isn't. And anyway, I'm a special case. I swear, next time I'm on the mortal plane with some free time, perhaps I'll start a campaign to change people's minds about sex." He threw the newspaper aside and looked disconsolately at Keter. "Haven't you made anything useful, yet? I thought we'd be out of here in a flash, possibly with a puff of smoke for dramatic effect."

Keter regarded Xhenorey icily. "I am working on it."

"While you're working on it, could you whip up a wooden hanger for my scarf? Which is lovely, by the way; thank you so much. The wire one it appeared with will play havoc with drape of the fibers, though. A soft material like that needs to hang from a smooth, rounded surface. My muscular shoulders ideally, but that's a problem until we get these manacles off."

"Sir," began Keter, "don't bother me with such trivia. Anyway, in this infernal heat--pardon the phrase--why would you want to wear a scarf? It's not the most masculine of ..." He paused, and looked at the item where it hung. "Wire, you say?"

Shortly thereafter, the scarf carefully folded to Xhenorey's specifications, and its wire hangar liberated and unwound and bent to form an impromptu lock pick, Keter grunted with satisfaction as he freed his own wrists from their manacles.

"I like the way you grunt; you sound so ... sated," said Xhenorey seductively.

Keter ignored him.

Presently, they were freed of their manacles, shackles, and of their cell, the locks being of a uniformly unchallenging archaic design. "It pays to invest in updates," Keter had commented as the cell door swung open.

Now they stood, resolute, liberated, and--in Xhenorey's case--wearing a cashmere scarf. "I presume the plan is to run away quickly and quietly?" he said in vain hope.

Keter shook his head. "No. Amun Toth will continue to badger me with assorted curses until one of them sticks; I have no choice but to deal with him now, once and for all."

"We're talking about a powerful wizard who feels quite confident that even Satan can't hurt him here. I think that bears repeating."

"Yes." Keter looked around him, deep in thought. "His defensive wards and barriers are near impervious. My spells will have little effect, and he has proven he can resist your 'charms.' We cannot harm him." He paused as a new thought struck him. "Ah." He grinned savagely. "Come along, Xhenorey. We have a wizard to defeat."

The doors of Amun Toth's sanctum once more crashed open under the impact of large spider legs. "Hello!" Xhenorey announced to the surprised sorcerer. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

"Impossible!" yelled Toth, which struck Keter as an odd thing for an immortal eunuch living in Hell's abandoned parliament building to say.

"Only highly improbable, as it happens," said Keter, walking past the Xhenorey to confront Toth. "But if you will insist on living in a boiling cauldron of chaos, you have only yourself to blame."

Amun Toth recovered his confidence. "So you escaped. It will do you no good. I will simply return you to your confinement. Guards!" No clatter of armed men came in response, only the distant groaning of chaos in the eaves. "Guards!" called Toth once more.

"They're indisposed," said Xhenorey. "Meaning, they're all in a deep coma and won't be waking up any time soon."

"No matter," Amun Toth. "I will deal with you myself."

"Actually, I was thinking perhaps we could have an old-fashioned duel," said Keter. "My magic versus yours."

Amun Toth laughed, as uncharismatic a sound as ever. "You? Your feeble skills are no match for mine, barbarian! Even the Great Devil can't--"

"Yes, yes," said Keter dismissively. "We heard you brag about that before. Personally, I doubt you will survive long after my first volley."

"My defenses are perfect," Toth said with one of his complicated sneers. "You can cause me no hurt. No man nor any demon," and here he pointedly looked at Xhenorey, "can bring me harm. Your words are empty, fool."

"Well, then." Keter drew his wand. "Defend yourself."

Amun Toth smirked, an unpleasant expression on that buttery face. With a few short syllables of power, the air around him thickened as wards and barriers gathered to protect him from any conceivable source of violence. Even as that was happening, Keter looked at the wand in his hand, hoped he had judged things correctly, aligned his thoughts, and cast his spell at Toth.

The results seemed disappointing. A barely visible golden light glowed around the tip of the wand and sputtered out after a few seconds. Keter glared at the wand once more, pursing his lips. "Ah ...," he said.

"Ha!" shouted Toth. "That was your best? Now, prepare for an agony of slow death, fools!"

Keter put away his wand and crossed his arms, awaiting certain annihilation patiently.

Toth waved an arm theatrically. "I call upon the powers of the Abyss! I summon the forces that were old when the Earth was formed! I--" He coughed. "I call upon--" He coughed again. "I--" He touched his throat, plainly concerned.

"Don't worry," said Keter. "It's perfectly normal."

"Impossible ...," Amun Toth croaked. "What have you done to me, barbarian?" Around him, the air flexed and the distortions of his defenses faded slowly.

"Well, I haven't done you any harm, if that's what you're concerned about. You were quite right. Those were impressive defenses. I certainly have couldn't hurt you through them. So instead, I did quite the opposite--something your defenses were never intended to stop."

"I ... feel strange ..." Toth suffered another coughing fit. "What is happening to me?"

"Oh, your throat? That will pass soon. It's just your voice breaking. It happens to all the boys. Time works differently here. You're just going through roughly ten years of puberty all at once."

Toth froze. His eyes widened. "No ..."

"Yes. I didn't even try to hurt you, Amun Toth. I healed you. You should be grateful. Oh," Keter feigned exasperation, "I am so forgetful. Of course, your magic depended on you being a eunuch, didn't it? Silly me. Never mind. I meant well."

Amun Toth looked around frantically, suddenly becoming all too aware of an unfamiliar weight between his legs. "A knife! There must be a knife somewhere! I can--" He stopped, glaring wildly at Keter. "The demon! Where is it?"

Some prickling premonition made him look up.

"Hello, lover," said Xhenorey as he descended on a silken cable, an unsmiling monster in cashmere. "That's it. Look into my eyes. All of puberty and four thousand years of denied sexual energy crashing into you all at once? You're going to be a delicious banquet. Oh, and just so you know, you really should have apologized when my human friend here asked you to."

#

Keter observed the first stages of Xhenorey's feeding process out of scientific interest--the tearing away of Toth's clothes, the initial engagement with Toth's resurging erection, so like oral sex between humans and so not at the same time--and made a few notes. The excess sexual energy Xhenorey had mentioned proved distracting; Keter's penis stayed distressingly, distractingly stiff the entire time, and he repeatedly entertained a fantasy of tearing open his trousers and presenting his own cock to the devil for snacking--but, no, he had to stay disciplined. Xhenorey really did appear intent on dragging out Amun Toth's sexual quietus to great length, so Keter pulled himself away from the sight and wandered off to do what he usually did when he found himself in the home of a rival sorcerer: he looted it.

The guards they had fought earlier still hung from the web above the staircase. Toth had made no attempt to rescue them. Perhaps Toth had an inflexible attitude toward failure, and Keter imagined the wizard had meant to leave the sluggishly writhing bodies up there as a warning to the new intake of guards when he recruited them.

Keter's search took several hours and netted him several useful chaos-focused items, yet Xhenorey was still nowhere near done with Amun Toth when he got back. Keter might have felt some pity for the Egyptian, but the memory of his disintegrating loofah prevented any such sympathy. Rather than disturb Xhenorey's meal, Keter gave in to his exhaustion, went off to find a suitable bed, and slept for a while.

He awakened when a giant spider leg prodded him. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" said Xhenorey.

"Amun Toth?"

"Dealt with. Permanently." The spider-devil smiled a smile that was not in the least nice. "Grab your pack and we'll be on our way. I'm bored with this place."

#

The departure from Pandemonium was leisurely. The thread they had used earlier to reach the parliament building was still in place, and Xhenorey climbed along it with astonishing agility, with Keter clinging to his back, hugging him around the waist and enduring Xhenorey's commentary the whole way about why all of Hell prized cashmere wool. At least Keter had developed the mental skills necessary to avoid the disorienting effects of the raw chaos, which he found to be a relief.

The shift back to the earthly plane of existence was likewise uneventful, and then they were back where they first met. The candles around the summoning circle had burned less than an inch in their absence, as though they had been gone only a half-hour, earth time.

Xhenorey said, "That was fun, stud. I haven't had that much excitement in centuries. I'm so glad I didn't jump out of that summoning circle--I could have, you know--and eat you the moment I arrived." He regarded Keter fondly, as one might a stalwart companion or perhaps an amusing pet. "I'm sorry you didn't find what you were looking for."

Keter smiled wanly. "Yes, well, Amun Toth's 'secret' of immortality was a disappointment. Living forever castrated in chaos isn't really a helpful avenue for my research. Still, it was a useful investigation, and maybe someday I can turn it into an article for a scholarly journal." He felt awkward and uncertain, and he cleared his throat. "I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance, Xhenorey, but it appears we are at a parting of the ways," he said.

"You're trying to send me away?" the spider-devil replied. "But we still have the rest of our agreement to fulfill. You can't renege now."

Keter looked up at Xhenorey. "The rest?" he echoed. "What more ...?"

And he found he could not look away.

"That's it, little wizard. Gaze into my eyes." Xhenorey's tone was smooth as honey, and his was a predator's smile.

"Promised ..." Keter struggled to speak as his mind filled with a pleasant torpor that made any thought or movement difficult. He was very much aware of his cock hardening, pressing its neediness against his trousers. "Not ... hurt me ..."

"Hurt you? Don't be silly, stud. I'm not going to hurt you. After all we've been through together? Of course I remember my promise; a devil's word is its bond, and all that. I even swore, didn't I? A little nibble on your soul won't hurt a bit, and all that repressed sexual energy inside you should be quite tasty. Just think of this as another kind of bonding experience, or perhaps immersive research. Plus, I think you'll enjoy the ... clarity it can bring." Xhenorey moved closer and grinned wider. "Now, enough foreplay. Admit it, stud--you do find me attractive, don't you. I have a sense for that sort of thing, you know."

"Yes ..."

"Well, then, just relax and let me take care of everything." Xhenorey's hands grasped Keter and lifted him easily into the air.

Keter felt as through some other web was being woven around his mind, too fine for his thoughts to grasp, too intricate for him to unravel. His will had disappeared, and he could do nothing except lie cradled in Xhenorey's grasp, every limb limp except for his stiff cock.

"Don't worry," Xhenorey chuckled as Keter found his shirt and trousers in the process of being deftly unfastened by hands and forelegs, "I'm only taking enough to enthrall you. An agreement is an agreement, but I need to ensure you won't use that clever mind of yours to try to send me away before I've eaten my fill, don't I?" Keter's shirt and shoes fell away. "You really should make sure you understand every single word of a summoning spell before you cast it, little wizard. In this one, you promised I could dine until I've had my fill; it isn't a loophole if it's written right there in the language." Keter's pants and socks followed. "Didn't you think to ask questions about quantity?--Even after I mentioned the Macedonian army? Sometimes you do fail to notice the important details." Keter's underwear, his last garment, slipped away. "You can't expect a hungry devil like me to be satisfied with just Amun Toth and his henchmen, can you?--Though I admit Toth was particularly tasty." The spider-devil lifted Keter's naked body, bringing his erection closer to Xhenorey's mouth. "Here's one detail even you can't miss, stud: you are about to be very, very glad that you're not a eunuch."

That mouth opened, and Keter felt a cool, wet tongue--too cool to be human--glide across his erection. Definitely ectothermic, some tiny part of him decided, before that mouth engulfed his member and began to suck, and he lost all remaining capacity for scientific thought.

He felt as though he were bobbing on ocean waves of pleasure. Keter had received blow-jobs before, of course, but Xhenorey was doing things no partner, no matter how skilled or enthusiastic, had ever done to him before.

Images came unbidden to his mind. Gymnasiums. The public baths. Military barracks. The monastery outside of the city. Dormitories. Places where men congregated. Xhenorey was searching through his memories, Keter understood, looking for the best hunting places where prey would be plentiful and he could feast. Fraternity houses. Dorms again. One dorm in particular, the one nearest this building. Yes, Keter understood, Xhenorey had made his selection: a nearby place filled with hormone-packed, horny undergraduates, young men who would be particularly vulnerable to the spider's eroto-based charms.

And suddenly Keter felt his back arch. His balls and cock seemed to be--yes, were experiencing that familiar climactic fire and more--every muscle tensing--every nerve burning--pleasure building, building, spiraling--

His orgasm detonated, obliterating everything except the ecstasy blazing through his body.

Soaring, soaring, peaking, holding, holding, then slowly descending, fading, slipping back down to reality.

The web clicked shut around his thoughts.

Keter felt himself deposited on the ground again, and he steadied himself to stand naked before Xhenorey.

"Yummy," the spider said. "You human sorcerers are always so tasty. I trust you enjoyed it too."

Xhenorey's statement did not seem to be a question, but Keter replied, "Yes, sir."

Xhenorey beamed. "Always so polite. I liked you well enough before, but I think I'll like you much better this way. Much more tractable, and none of that peevish arrogance you human sorcerers all seem to have. And it didn't hurt you a bit--don't you agree?"

Keter considered this. Xhenorey had said it, so it must true. He didn't feel hurt in any way. He felt like himself, only ... happy? Was that what he felt? Yes, but not exactly. He felt post-orgasm blissful, yes, but also--he searched for the word--devoted, perhaps?--respectful?--obedient?--all of those? Yes, but something more. Some willful and rebellious part of him had been quieted or taken away, and in its place was a new feeling. Expectant. Yes, that was what he felt: anticipation, eagerness. Would Xhenorey feed on him again? He very much hoped so and would do anything his new friend asked, obey any instruction, in order to win Xhenorey's favor and prove himself worthy of being fed on again, even just a little snack. He felt such adoration for Xhenorey, who deserved his awe and obedience and worship and more. Was this the feeling that led ancient peoples to construct temples for their gods? Would Xhenorey ask him to build such a temple? Keter considered the idea of a temple devoted to the spider-devil and smiled as he imagined what it would look like, how he would design it, how he would labor with his own two hands to construct it. But for now, the barely noticeable web around his thoughts tugged at him, urging. Xhenorey had asked him a question and expected his answer. "Yes ...," Keter managed. When Xhenorey smiled at him in return, Keter felt a warm satisfaction fill his mind and body, and he was pleased to have pleased his master.

"Excellent. Now, get dressed, little wizard. It's dinnertime, and my first courses await. I'm famished--positively insatiable!"

Xhenorey's instructions must be obeyed; so Keter began to reach for his discarded clothing.

"How do I look?" Xhenorey asked. He had discarded the scarf and changed his shape. The spider portion of his body had receded, becoming a human ass and two human legs. The black carapace armor had flowed over Xhenorey's form, becoming a dapper suit of the current fashion, the design likely pulled from Keter's mind too.

"Beautiful," Keter said, because indeed Xhenorey looked like his ideal man, wearing a suit that flattered everything about him. Keter felt a fresh flush of enthusiastic arousal run through him, as though he were an always-randy teenager again. Yes, he very much wanted Xhenorey to lift him again, right now, and put that mouth around his cock again and--

"You're still a charmer, stud," Xhenorey purred, smiling, which made Keter flush with happiness to have pleased him. "Now, if you would be so kind, escort me to this dormitory and let's get the feasting underway. I haven't had a wizard caught in my web in a very long, long time, especially not one as strong as you. Think of the mischief we'll cause! Oh, stud, you and I are going to have so much fun!"