David looked down. The leather skirt had fallen off. So had the breastplate. Whatever magic engulfed him decided they weren’t important, apparently, and had replaced them with a thin, red, one-shoulder robe. Silk? It almost looked ancient Roman or Greek, but far more revealing. He could feel the loincloth cradling his balls like he was god damn royalty.
He had sandals. Sandals! Black gladiator sandals, with straps almost reaching his knee. Holy sweet mother of fucking god he finally had something between his feet and the hard ground. Royalty had nothing on a good pair of shoes, or sandals.
He had bracelets, too. Black, metal. And a couple black rings.
“The angel rune. It, uh… It makes clothes for angels. Their armor, too. It’s supposed to be gold and white, I think. Not black and red.”
Jes grinned at him and joined him. “Like a demon.” She plucked at the red fabric draped over one shoulder, at his bracelets, his rings, and squatted and checked his sandals. “You’re an angel?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not an angel. I got no wings, and, uh… yeah, the black and red.”
The Las stared at him, crept up, and plucked at his new skirt. It wasn’t much better than the last skirt, probably even worse protection-wise, but it looked infinitely better, reaching a bit past his knees. But the fabric was very thin and loose, held on by a silk belt.
“This is pretty… slutty,” Caera said, sitting in front of him cat style. Laughing, she gestured at his stomach, and gave the skinny toga a light pull, exposing his abs.
“I was more naked before.”
“Yeah, but now you’re kinda clothed, kinda not, and that’s sexy.”
He smiled, but exhaustion hit him, and he fell forward. Caera was there in a second, and he half collapsed against her back. The rune remained. He checked himself for any missing pieces, but everything was still there, especially the God-given — literally — sandals.
“The rune?” Caera asked.
“No. Using this rune is super easy. I’m just… fuck me, I am… tired.”
“Get on.”
“I… Yeah.” No point in arguing. He climbed, slipped, climbed some more, and straddled Caera’s back. It was wet with angel blood.
Lasca picked up his half breastplate.
“David want?”
“I think I’m good. I’m gonna try and use the other rune later, the one the angels use for their armor and weapons. But… just in case, can you carry it? I’d put it back on, but–”
“But you’re about to pass out,” Caera said, and she nudged Lasca with her tail. “Carry it for him.”
“Okay!” Nodding like she’d been given the most important task in the world, a task only she was suited for, she put the half breastplate on over her own. All it was was a couple pieces of metal for half the chest and half the back, and it didn’t fit over the pieces of armor she already wore. That didn’t matter to Lasca. She nodded firmly, and marched beside Acelina in the back, proud and ready.
The group carried on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daoka walked beside him for a while, occasionally clicking and giggling at him whenever she plucked at the skimpy red toga. But after the jokes no one translated were over, she slid in closer, kissed his shoulder, and clicked up at him; riding Caera gave him some height.
“Don’t say that,” Jes said. “His ego’s probably inflated already, summoning tombstones and wearing angel runes.”
He smiled at Dao, leaned over to her, promptly slid sideways, crashed on her, and groaned as she pushed him back onto Caera.
“David,” Caera said. “Do you need Laoko to carry you?”
“I’m wound and bleeding,” the tetrad said. “No thank you.”
David leaned forward, kept a good grip to keep his suddenly million-pound body from sliding off, and whispered.
“Caera, can you take us up to Laoko?”
“Why?”
“Just wanna talk to her.”
Caera glanced back at him, eyed him with her one eye, but nodded and walked up to Laoko. At this point the Las had drifted back to walk with Acelina again, each of them eyeing and gawking at the angel. Room for Caera to side up to Laoko and walk beside her, a tiger prowling along with a giantess.
“Laoko,” he said. “I wanted to–”
“If you wish to speak of Teleius, don’t.”
“I wasn’t. I wanted to ask about… you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He gestured up at the ten-foot-tall woman on hooves with ridiculous curves and super long dreadlocks. And four arms, with four swords. “Earlier you were talking about angels. You sounded like you knew you were talking about.”
“Did I?”
“Yes,” Caera said, “you did.”
“But I’m just a simple demon. Why would I know of angels?”
Caera growled. On her back, the vibration pulsed up through David’s legs. He would have reached out and combed her hair, but his arms were too damn heavy at the moment. Once he had a night’s sleep and a thousand hearts in his belly, he’d be fine.
“You clearly spoke of angels,” Caera said. “You knew about Azoryev. I’ve wandered half of Hell learning about history, and I never read the names of the Heavenly Islands.”
David knew, from Mia, and he’d mentioned them in passing with the girls. But no need to tell Laoko that yet. Not that they hadn’t already told Laoko way more than they should have, but the fact David could read ancient languages and absorb–
“How did you learn about the angel runes?” Laoko asked, eying him. “How did you know how to use one, as an angel does?”
“I… um…”
She grinned. “Until we reach Timaeus, we’re stuck together. But that doesn’t mean we need to share with each other every secret, does it?”
Caera growled again. “No, it doesn’t. But–”
“I think we should move and move quickly, before the rider finds us. If he expects us to run to the nearest bailiff, Timaeus, it is perhaps a good thing we are taking a detour to feed. And when we reach Timaeus, hopefully we find him intact.” She tapped a horn. “Describe to me the rider’s attack on the spire.”
Okay, she wanted to take charge of the conversation. That was fine. He wanted her help, and she’d proven to be one of the few reasonable demons around.