A Pale Shade of Night

A Pale Shade of Night

Chapter 16: Returning Home

It felt extraordinary to Arcana to toss Muirgheal's clothing in the wardrobe and slip on a loose silk robe. The fine material glided over her unglamoured skin and swirled about her ankles as she walked around her cottage barefoot. She was actually clean again, with her hair freshly braided and charmed to behave, and her peeling skin coated liberally with lotions.

Arcana's small hideaway was simply furnished, but comfortable. There were always enough supplies here for several days, and, during the Dark Lord's first war, she used to retreat here when remaining at his fortress became too much to bear. He would invariably summon her when her absence became aggravating, and she would return to be reprimanded for sneaking off. At some point the solitude had ceased being worth the pain, and since June Arcana had never thought about running off for a few days. The Dark Lord would not be lenient in his punishment.

Things were a mess after she had rifled through the potions in search of anything that would ease the incessant itching, and her raid of the kitchen had not helped matters. Since she was unwilling to tap into her limited magical reserves, the continual use of the glamour in the Library, where she was wary of drawing off of the land, was a strain on her body, making her constantly hungry. The power had to come from somewhere after all.

Having no house-elves to undo the damage, she took the time to put everything back in order, letting the mindless work act as a backdrop while she mentally prepared herself to face the Dark Lord. In an odd way, she was almost relieved to be returning to the Dark Lord's fortress. At least there she faced a known enemy, however terrible he was. In Alexandria she had been constantly surrounded by nameless, faceless threats. The familiar fear of discovery had stung sharper than in the past, like the sting of the Dark Mark when it burned.

Arcana scowled and rubbed her Mark, even as it lay dormant under her skin.

Who was she kidding? Certainly not herself.

By going back to the Dark Lord, she was only returning to her slavery, and that she had left it behind when she went to Alexandria was only an illusion. No praise would await her, despite her success. If she were lucky, her discovery of the demon's name would keep the Dark Lord focused on something other than finding excuses to torture her. Unfortunately she did not tend to be lucky when it came to dealing with the Dark Lord.

Methodically, she donned her heavy black robes, thick leathers, and a few pieces of mithril armor. It really wasn't necessary since she was directly returning to the Dark Lord's fortress, but she felt exposed traveling in anything less than her hunting garb when she wore her natural appearance. The chance of being ambushed was ever-present, despite her efforts to ensure her secrecy. Realistically, this world was hostile territory, and there were few places that she did not feel on edge; it felt like there was always a tainted steel blade poised to strike from behind.

Arcana shut the door of her cottage behind her, and it vanished, leaving only an irregular rocky indentation in the low grassy hill under which the cottage was hidden. She had gotten the idea for the barrow from human folklore, and found it both amusing and effective. The surrounding trees had shaded her hidden home from view for centuries and they had come to know her well in that time. Their roots ran deep, and they were watchful, misdirecting anyone that came too near.

The black unicorn trod over to Arcana, leaving burnt earth in his wake. A red squirrel scurried across a moss-encrusted log, its black eyes fixed on the unicorn, and then darted through the undergrowth and up a tree. Arcana leapt upon the black unicorn's back, and he took to the air with a great bound, his muscles flexing beneath Arcana's knees. She saw through his eyes as well as her own when their minds merged, his raw, visceral power complimenting her honed intellect, yielding a deadly perfection. It was a sensation that Arcana could never properly put into words, even using fae tongues.

The black unicorn's wings beat the air at Arcana's sides, carrying with them the clean scent of dead leaves and moist earth. He furiously whispered in her mind of hunting for lost souls, of bringing death, of basking in the Darkness in which they thrived. Arcana sighed in longing, a sound lost to the cold winds, and her limbs tingled as she remembered the way that the magic coursed through her, but she hardened her will against his, forcing the Dark Lord back to the center of her thoughts. She had to return now.

The black unicorn snorted angrily and tossed his head in refusal, fiery eyes rolling in their sockets. He dove toward the trees, flying so low over the dense forest that cawing birds were startled from their perches.

Come back, come home, was how Arcana translated the fervent expression that he radiated. He knew that she had stayed in the mortal world for too long; he knew her pain and the strain on her magic.

Not yet. Wait. Soon. Arcana tried to reassure him, though she could not hide the jolt of terror that struck with the reminder of her death. After he dies, then we go. Arcana showed the black unicorn the Dark Lord, relaying her loathing, her fear, and her bondage.

The black unicorn's fury scorched the treetops, and Arcana urged him to Apparate. The sooner she went to the Dark Lord, the sooner she would hunt again, and, if they were lucky, the sooner he would die. With a gust of wind, they vanished. The black unicorn reluctantly left Arcana at the edge of the anti-Apparition wards on the cliff above Slytherin's Valley after she promised that they would hunt again soon, taking to the air in a fury of black before Disapparating. She gently spelled the grass to grow back where the unicorn's hooves had singed it, hiding his passing.

The path down into the valley was slick with mud from recent rains, and by the time she had reached the valley floor, darkness had descended over the forest. Arcana let the influence of the black unicorn's mind bleed away as she walked the familiar trail, scowling as she passed a spot that was forever etched in her memory. New growth had sprouted from the tree she had broken while killing one of the Death Eaters, blotting out the stench of death that had pervaded the ground there for several years after the incident.

The forest creatures let her pass unmolested, scuttling away from her boots and slipping into the dense undergrowth. Vines of Devil's Snare reached out to her, but only glanced off the hem of her cloak, somehow sensing that Arcana would not be their next meal. Arcana's Dark Mark tingled as she neared the fortress, and she flexed her left hand automatically to ease the uncomfortable sensation. The Dark Lord's magic pulled at her, commanding her to join him. He was waiting in his rooms. She acknowledged him, but the tingling of her Mark did not stop. She felt his shadow looming over her, urging her onward - crimson eyes in black mist. With the bitter reminder of the beginning of her cursed servitude only meters behind, it was difficult to resist the urge to spitefully hide from the Dark Lord's observation.

A masked Death Eater, Avery, Arcana realized, was speaking quietly with a hooded witch in the shadowy entryway of the fortress. Only a few sconces were lit, casting most of the cavernous place into darkness. The witch's magic was black and rotted, as happened when humans used Dark magic excessively, and Arcana sensed a ravenous craving within her. She would be consumed by it within the year, Arcana estimated coldly, having seen many witches and wizards fall to the same fate - their own idiocy.

The witch glanced toward Arcana with mild curiosity, but Avery drew her attention back to him, keeping her occupied while Arcana passed. Arcana climbed the stairs that led toward the Dark Lord's rooms, her feet silently falling in the slight indentations that had been worn into the stone steps, and then swiftly stepped into the shadows, eager to be unseen. Even in the poorly lit, deserted corridor, she still felt eyes on her back.

The familiar sound of scuttling rat paws and the clink of silver on stone pricked Arcana's ears. It was Wormtail - a wizard she had not missed while in Alexandria. At least he didn't follow her for once, instead turning down a better-lit hallway. A rat shaped shadow bloomed on the wall as Wormtail scurried past a torch. The Dark Mark warmed under Arcana's skin, pulling at her, urging her to walk faster. Impatient red-black magic wove across her vision.

The Dark Lord's door unlocked before Arcana's knuckles struck the wood and locked behind her as soon as she stepped inside. The front room of his quarters would have been somewhat comfortable without the sinister air that permeated it, the sparse furnishings an eclectic mix culled from the fortress. The closest thing to a predominant color, besides the black stone, was a dark red nearly mirroring his magic, which Arcana found vaguely amusing when she was not fighting off his mind games or angling for a way to avoid whichever painful curse he was eager to cast that day. The red accents had faded to the color of dried blood in the low amber light.

The Dark Lord was sitting in front of the imposing hearth in his favorite chair - an ancient leather, wing-backed thing with fanged snakes carved into the age-blackened wood - reeking of magic and surrounded by floating books. He banished the books to one of the many shelves lining the walls with a sharp wave of his hand and set aside his parchment and quill on a table at his side. The shelves were far from full, though there were some books and a smattering of artifacts. A few floating antique lamps cast just enough orange light to ward off the darkest shadows, and the roaring fire in the hearth made the room stifling, especially for Arcana in her heavy hunting garb.

The Dark Lord studied Arcana severely for a moment out of the corner of his eye, and she bowed, feeling the magical weavings of his complex Arithmency fade into the background hum of the fortress's magic. His mind brushed against hers, feeling like heavy hands on her shoulders trying to push her down to her knees. Arcana slipped away from the Dark Lord's influence and the pressure lifted. She kept her expression cold and waited, forcing her fury to fester inside. That was not the greeting she had expected.

Nagini hissed at the Dark Lord from her place, coiled up on the warm flagstones in front of the fire, and he dismissively turned away from Arcana. She imagined hurling a curse at his back and watching ecstatically as he convulsed and died, though in reality he would have just blocked the spell and then sent Arcana to the floor, screaming in agony. It was a pity how real reality was in this world.

"Can I now?" Nagini asked, sinuously twisting her length and stretching out her coils. Arcana eyed the snake warily, hoping that Nagini was asking to wrap around the Dark Lord now that he'd stopped casting rather than asking if she could eat the fae.

"Not now, Nagini," the Dark Lord replied in Parseltongue. Nagini hissed in disappointment and wound into tight coils again.

The Dark Lord finally fully looked at Arcana, his tightly leashed irritation showing through in the hard lines of his face and the swirling eddies of his magic.

"You are lucky to have my protection, my hunter," he said, switching to English. "It took significant time and effort on my part to convince the Ministry that your appearance at Hogwarts was not worth investigating further. Do not tell me that you have failed again."

Arcana clenched her jaw, holding back a flinch at the whip-crack of his red-black magic, which betrayed far more emotion than his voice. The Death Eaters he had sent after Muirgheal must have reported back, or perhaps something else had gone wrong. He had no reason, no new reason, to be angry with her . . . yet. The Hogwarts incident should not have had that much of an impact. She'd hoped it hadn't been his influence that had halted the Ministry's inquiry, but she could do nothing about it now.

"I have not failed, my lord. I have the demon's name," Arcana said evenly, keeping a watchful eye on the Dark Lord's wand hand. The runic script glowed faintly in her mind for a moment. Magic crackled around the inscription, whispering and taunting in half-formed words she could almost understand.

The Dark Lord's magic settled and some tension left his shoulders. He sinuously twisted his neck, reminding Arcana of the dancing cobras in Alexandria; her vision of that fire-eyed cobra rearing up before her on the pier. His nostrils flared and his eyes gleamed - the only signs of his excitement.

"You are lucky then, my fae. I might not punish you, depending on what you have learned. Given your last theatrical episode, I trust your time away was most . . . inconspicuous," the Dark Lord said.

The mind games were not over yet apparently, and Arcana hid a scowl, surprised that the Dark Lord had not immediately demanded information on the demon.

"I had few problems, my lord, save for the difficulties I knew I would encounter in the Demon Archives," Arcana calmly reported, responding to the Dark Lord's move, making light of what he might consider quite a conspicuous occurrence.

"Difficulties in the Archives? Is that so?" The harsh edge was back in his voice, and his eyes narrowed to red slashes on his pallid face. Arcana shifted her weight ever so slightly, her eyes darting toward the Dark Lord's twitching wand hand.

"You have been keeping secrets from me," the Dark Lord said, making the connection between her and Muirgheal on his own. Arcana could not help the shiver that ran down her spine. His anger had been about the Death Eaters' failure in Alexandria, and now it was directed at her. "Secrets that have led my spies on a fruitless search and have wasted my time."

Arcana remained silent and perfectly still, though her instincts were screaming that she should slip into the shadows and hide. She fought her magic's desire to pool in her hands, and a pins-and-needles feeling jabbed into her skin. The Dark Lord must have spies in the Library, listening to all the odd gossip - spies that Husaline did not know of since he would never allow politics to wield power in his domain.

"Muirgheal was most conspicuous. I would have expected better from you, hunter," the Dark Lord snapped, his magic lashing like a whip stroke again. Arcana did flinch this time. "And here I had thought you were using her as a distraction. Most disappointing."

Fury and humiliation raged within Arcana, and she bowed her head for a moment in conciliation, refusing to ask his forgiveness even as her Dark Mark burned. If the Dark Lord did not understand her methods, it was his problem, not hers. Perhaps Alexandria was not so bad after all, despite the dangers.

"Come here," the Dark Lord ordered, sneering at Arcana's stubborn silence. After a moment's hesitation Arcana complied and joined him, taking her place in the other chair by the fire. The chair creaked as Arcana sat down, equally ancient as the Dark Lord's, but far less imposing and, Arcana suspected, far less comfortable. It was also just high enough that her feet could not rest comfortably on the floor. The fire was too hot on her right cheek, and her skin was already getting clammy with sweat under her robes.

"And stop trying to hide from me, fae," he warned. Again Arcana did as she was told without comment, removing her hat, glasses, and heavy cloak, doing her best to cool her anger before it got her cursed. It was time to play deferential servant, or at least try.

Nagini slithered up to Arcana, flicked her tongue at the fae, and then returned to her place by the fire, coiling up on the warm stone and fixing Arcana with a blank gaze.

"Tell Lord Voldemort who he must summon, my fae," the Dark Lord commanded. Arcana met his piercing gaze, deciding to ignore his suspicious familiar for the time being. "I will deal with your deception later." Arcana lowered her eyes.

"I dare not speak the name, my lord," Arcana said quietly, bowing her head for a moment. She raised her eyes in time to see a flash of venomous rage cross the Dark Lord's face. "It is one of the Iddimu, my lord," she added hastily. "I can write it for you if you'd like, but the name should not be spoken unless protective spells are cast beforehand."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened for an instant before he resumed his normal, emotionless expression.

"An Iddimu," he said slowly, his gaze distant and calculating. Here it comes, Arcana thought. "That is . . . unexpected."

Arcana held her cold smile inside and waited for the Dark Lord to scowl. Next the grim questions would start, and she could put all of her hard-won knowledge to use and convince him to give up on the demon. There would be other paths, she would say, other paths leading to life and not to death.

The scowl never appeared. Instead he pressed his fingertips together, going very still, and then, after several minutes of contemplation, he nodded.

"It can still be done, but you will need to spend all your time on preparing the summoning ritual with me if we are to perform it on the Solstice."

Arcana opened her mouth, but her words caught in her throat, her mind not believing what her ears had heard.

"My lord, we - you cannot summon that," she blurted out when his words finally sunk in. "If a miniscule mistake in the precise ritual does not kill us - does not kill you, the demon will-" she broke off in mid-thought, shuddering. "The Iddimu are not to be toyed with, my lord. It takes years to develop a ritual of this complexity. The Solstice is less than two months away. It would be suicide."

"A fae ritual would take years, not a Wizarding one," he said tersely, and Arcana grimaced.

"And to date none of those have succeeded, my lord." A sharp glare silenced Arcana's next thought.

"Under the guise of the conspicuously theatrical Muirgheal you spent many hours - enough hours to start very dangerous rumors - with that Guild outcast, Cumanus. She has told you what must be done. Don't try to lie to me, my fae."

The Dark Lord's fingers twitched, his patience wearing thin. Arcana had no need to lie about the Iddimu; attempting to summon one would be deadly. Nagini offered a non-committal hiss, which the Dark Lord pointedly ignored. Arcana had the distinct impression that the snake was amused with them.

"She told me that it was suicide," Arcana insisted. Poisonous fear curled in her stomach as red streaks of rage flared around the Dark Lord's magic, but she held steady. "Isabella was adamant that only a lich could survive the attempt, and if a mistake were made during the ritual that thing could be unleashed," Arcana continued. An unrestrained Iddimu could break the Barrier to the fae realms, opening them up to attack through this world. She would not be responsible for the destruction of her people, even if they had sentenced her to exile.

"Cumanus holds too much faith in the power of the undead." The Dark Lord sneered, but remained motionless other than that twist of his thin lips, his red eyes burning with hatred and perhaps jealousy.

Arcana's Dark Mark tingled.

"The liches lose more than they gain by taking that foolish path," he continued derisively. "She only believes that the demon will not try to take a lich because it has no use for an undead body. My power surpasses theirs, no matter what delusions those Guild fools have woven over their eyes."

Even if the Dark Lord were more powerful than the average lich, of which Arcana was doubtful, Isabella still had a valid point about the undead. Unfortunately refuting the Dark Lord would sound like she questioning his magical power, and that would only lead to pain. Arcana shifted in her chair and it creaked, probably just to spite her. Her dry skin was now itching as well as sweating underneath her heavy robes, and she wished she had been able to put something else on before he had summoned her. This conversation should have been over by now, Arcana grumbled internally.

"If a miracle happened and we did manage to summon the Iddimu, there is no guarantee that it would be willing to impart to you the knowledge you seek, my lord," Arcana said, trying another tactic and forcing the frustration out of her voice. "There is no telling what form that knowledge is in either. And the demon will demand steep payment. Blood and death and names."

"It will be-- What happened to your neck, my fae?" Arcana self-consciously brought her hand up to cover the one half-healed wound on her neck that showed above her collar. The Dark Lord leaned forward, and his gaze locked with hers.

"Show your lord."

Arcana had hoped that he wouldn't notice so soon, but there was nothing for it, so she pulled down her high collar and turned her head so he could see that she had been bitten several times. A wicked smile threatened to break through her cold demeanor as she displayed the physical evidence of her independence.

"A vampire?" the Dark Lord asked incredulously. Arcana nodded, hoping that he did not see the ferocious challenge that was so desperately wanting to show in her eyes. "That is not inconspicuous," he hissed.

"Your spies obviously did not know, my lord." Arcana sat back and readjusted her collar to hide the bites. "The marks were invisible under my glamour." She was pushing the bounds of respectful behavior as the Dark Lord defined it, but she didn't care. The last lingering effects of riding the black unicorn were spinning her frustration into fury. Her time in Alexandria was supposed to have been unmonitored. He was not supposed to know that she was Muirgheal. She wanted pry her freedom back from his grasp, to tear away from the bonds of the Dark Mark, and then slip unseen into the shady forest.

The Dark Lord's thin lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed in warning. Arcana sighed and looked away, knowing what that glare meant and not wanting to suffer the Cruciatus Curse that he would cast if she spoke further. She loosed the tendrils of madness and watched them float away. The scent of burnt earth touched her nose.

The Dark Lord's gaze became distant for a moment.

"I felt the curse," he said thoughtfully. She remembered how her Dark Mark had tingled when she'd cursed Xerusk. "Is the attacker dead?"

Arcana blinked for a moment, surprised. He should know that no vampire could get close enough to bite her unless she wished it. "It was consensual, my lord." She could not quite keep the satisfaction out of her voice, or the smile off of her face. Her body remembered the sensations of that night, and she held a sated sigh within.

Arcana's words were met with silence and the strangest expression she had ever seen on the Dark Lord's face. If he'd had eyebrows, one would have been quirked upward. "You owe me two secrets now, my fae," he said emotionlessly, the strength of command bleeding into his words from his magic.

That was one step too far.

"I owe you nothing, my lord. I fulfilled your request for the demon's name. I am not contract-bound in this matter." Arcana seethed with an anger that was all her own. He had no right to pry into her private affairs, especially when she had known Xerusk for far longer than he had been alive.

The room tilted unpleasantly when the Dark Lord caught Arcana with a piercing look. His Legilimency glided along the edges of her mental barriers, and she glared back as he probed deeper into the fog of her surface thoughts. She easily slipped away from the grasping tendrils of his magic, regaining her physical bearings. His Legilimency returned like an electric shock, quickly finding the edge of her mental defenses again. Arcana banished all emotion, preparing to draw on her High magic, but the Dark Lord only smiled coldly and pulled back from her mind. He was getting better, and he wanted her to know.

"Be mindful, Arcana, that I only tolerate your stubbornness as long as I find it entertaining." The Dark Lord's chill smile faded. "If it ceases to be so, my patience will be short, and if you become irritating, you will learn how kind I have been thus far." A muscle in Arcana's cheek twitched as the old phantom pain sparked through her limbs.

"I enjoy this game - bending you to my will slowly, gently." He regarded her for a moment, the half-smile on his face and the angle of his head lending him a cruel, reptilian cast. "You feign strength so often, but would you really be willing to endure ceaseless torture? It is not very inventive, but I could break you that way."

Arcana shivered despite the warm room, the old chair creaking with her small movements. He had tried that once, but he had not been wholly successful, only coercing her to submit as she did now. Arcana did not know if she could hold out again. Shame, anger, and fear warred for domination, but reason prevailed.

"The contract prevents--"

"Oh yes, it does keep me from hurting you much, unless I have 'just cause.' That part of our original negotiation was quite amusing. You threatened to walk away when I insisted that it be included, but I knew you were far too bored with the monotony of your life and far too curious about me to do so. And ever since you tried to run from me, I have had much more leeway to interpret the wording as I see fit."

The Dark Lord's eyes burned into Arcana.

"Do not try me," he warned, his magic flaring along their bond.

Arcana's Dark Mark seared, and she gasped in pain.

"You will tell me what I want to know, my fae, and you will do so respectfully." The burning gnawed into the bones of Arcana's arm. Fire danced over her skin and she doubled over in agony, pressing her left arm against her chest and splaying her fingers over her robes to keep herself from gouging her palm with her claws. "I knew that time away from me would make you rebellious. It always does."

Arcana snarled at her knees, furious and unrepentant. A white-hot wave of pain tore over her skin, and a groan escaped.

"I trust that this is a suitable reminder of your station, my fae." The sibilant voice was hovering above her. A cold hand grasped the back of Arcana's neck tightly, and she flinched, but he held her still, her head against her knees. She had not noticed the Dark Lord get up.

His fingers dug into Xerusk's bite marks painfully, and it took all of her restraint not to swipe at the Dark Lord with her claws, but she dared not attack him. She had only done so once, and would have disemboweled him if her limbs had not been so sluggish then. He had sworn that he would bind her magic and throw her to the whims of his Death Eaters if she ever dared assail him again.

"Answer me," the Dark Lord hissed, his fingers biting harder into her bruised neck.

Arcana closed her eyes and shoved away the shame. Practice was making that easier and easier.

"Yes, my lord, a most suitable reminder," she managed to say with only a little disdain.

The Dark Lord released Arcana, and her Dark Mark quieted, leaving twitching muscles and painful spasms in its wake. She straightened and forced her hands to stay away from the tender bruises on her neck. Arcana wished that she could slink back to the forest to seek shelter beneath the wings of the black unicorn, but instead she just sat there, tracing a crack in the floor with her eyes until it ran under a dark red rug. She hated him so much that it burned.

The Dark Lord returned to his chair seeming quite satisfied, and Nagini raised her head hopefully. The Dark Lord shook his head, and the snake hissed in disappointment.

"Now, my fae, tell me about this demon and what you know of summoning. We will start planning the ritual immediately, and I need to know how to best make use of you," the Dark Lord said, perfectly calm again, as if torturing Arcana were nothing more than a dull, daily routine. His flippancy toward her made Arcana want to tear his throat out, but her fury was weak, and it died out quickly as her Dark Mark continued to ache.

"I'll have nothing to do with summoning this thing, my lord," Arcana said quietly, shaken and unable to meet the Dark Lord's gaze. The Mark was bleeding underneath her glove, and she carefully cradled her left arm with her right. "It should not be summoned," Arcana said more resolutely. She was far more afraid of the Iddimu than of the Dark Lord, and if she had to die, she would much prefer it be by his hands than by a demon's. She so detested thinking about death, but the thoughts were coming often and unbidden these days.

"I will summon it, my fae," the Dark Lord proclaimed with such certainty that Arcana was left with no doubt of his conviction, or his madness. "In the end, you will be much safer if you aid me. If I must do this all on my own, I might just make a mistake - doubtful, yes, but possible - and then you would be defenseless against it when it came for you, for it will have surely killed me."

Arcana repressed a bitter laugh. The armchair creaked as she shifted to gently lay her left arm on the armrest. It still felt like hot needles were pricking her skin. Arrogant wizard that he was, the Dark Lord clearly did not think he would fail on his own, but he knew that, alone, he would never be able to complete preparations by the Winter Solstice and would then have to wait a whole year until the darkest night came again. Not even he would be brazen enough to summon the Iddimu on any other night.

"I would hope that you'd be dead that quickly, my lord. Being taken is not a fate I would wish on anyone, not even you," Arcana said. A memory that was not her own played in Arcana's mind, awakening a terror unlike what the Dark Lord could inflict upon her. It had been given to her long ago as a warning of why to never toy with demons, and it was very effective.

"Help me then, Arcana," the Dark Lord implored, almost making the request sound sincere. His magic was reaching out for her again, Dark and corrupted, yet powerful and familiar, comforting in its own perverted way. Arcana slipped away from the magical embrace and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. The red-black magic hovered at the edge of her perception. "If we summon it together, I can protect you," he assured her.

That was doubtful, and Arcana silenced a derisive snort, having already had her fill of pain for the day. The Dark Lord could not defeat one of the Iddimu if it came to that. Why he even pretended such things was beyond her. Still, it would not do to question his power.

"Even so, demons know the rules governing their magic much better than either of us, my lord," Arcana said cautiously, attempting to appeal to the Dark Lord's reason. "They always get the better end of the deal. Always. The payment will be more than you expect - that is another certainty. And . . ." Arcana trailed off, worried about voicing her fears.

"What, my fae? You may tell your lord." The cruel gleam was back in the Dark Lord's red eyes.

Arcana scowled at the Dark Lord's nearly skeletal wand hand. It was relaxed on the arm of his chair, his long fingers dangling over the head of a wooden snake. She looked up, unsure how she had come to this of all problems with the summoning ritual. Arcana's mind had betrayed her fear.

"I do not trust you, my lord." He could sell her to the Iddimu, and the demon could block the backlash of the broken contract - the original soul hunting contract between her and the Dark Lord - if it decided it was worth it to keep the Dark Lord alive. Arcana had insisted several clauses regarding her protection be included during contract negotiations, and the Dark Lord had ceded without argument.

Cruel glee all but danced in the Dark Lord's eyes. "You will have to trust me, my fae. Be assured that even once I hold the demon's knowledge in my hands, I will require your services for some time, unless the secrets of immortality come in potion form."

Arcana felt the truth of the Dark Lord's words - both about summoning the demon with or without her help, and about needing her. If she refused, she would put her people in great danger of her own free will, but if she accepted, a slow and terrible death likely awaited her. It boiled down to those two possibilities no matter what dressing she put on the situation. The burnt shadow of the demon's name hovered in her mind, mocking her.

"It seems easy now, my lord," Arcana said, holding his gaze, trying to turn the conversation away from her weakness, "but once the demon is standing before you it will slip into your mind no matter your mastery of Occlumency. It will mock your weaknesses and your fears, and promise to fulfill your wildest ambitions. It will twist your reason against you until you forget what you really wanted. It will turn us against each other, and if either of us falters, our magic, our lives, and our souls will be forfeit."

"I have summoned demons before, Arcana," the Dark Lord said, unconcerned. "They have never come close to bending my will. I know myself far too well. I have made myself into something they cannot touch."

"Perhaps, my lord, but the Iddimu are different." Arcana fought to keep the doubt out of her voice, hating how he maneuvered her so easily back to explaining her weakness. "And they can touch me."

Arcana shivered, her mind modifying the memory that she had been given, putting her in the place of the unfortunate and long dead fae.

"Fae are endowed with greater magical ability than humans," Arcana said, and the Dark Lord glowered. "It is true, my lord," Arcana continued before he could interrupt. "There is no use in arguing that point, and while I don't know what biased texts you have read on the subject, they are most likely very wrong."

"Just make your point, fae." The Dark Lord's posture shifted ever so slightly, and his magic loomed above him like great black wings. Arcana took a calming breath and held her emotions at bay.

"We may have greater power, but we are sensitive to demons," Arcana continued. "We are simply too magical for our own good, and demons find us far more appetizing than wizards or Muggles." She paused and looked away, uncomfortable with telling the Dark Lord so much, but feeling that it needed to be said. "Demons prefer fae to humans. We produce far superior offspring, or so they say," she whispered, shuddering to contemplate her possible hellish future. Demons were the reason that fae bore no true names. The risk was simply too great.

"Are you incapable of taking part in the ritual?" the Dark Lord asked coldly.

"I don't know." Arcana shook her head, not understanding how she could even consider doing such a thing. She felt strangely lonely, missing the company of her own kind - she would not need to convince them that summoning an Iddimu was pure and deadly folly. Full of his overconfidence and power, the Dark Lord just did not understand. She doubted any human could understand the fear that she felt.

"The Archives affected me badly, as you surely know, but that is different than dealing with a live demon under the controls of a summoning ritual." She had successfully handled herself during a summoning of a lesser demon in the past, and she could probably do so again with sufficient preparation time, even if the ritual did not contain all of the safeguards the fae normally used. "A lesser demon would not pose great difficulty, but I fear that summoning one of the Iddimu is beyond my power, my lord."

"But it is not beyond me, Arcana," the Dark Lord said. Arcana silenced a rude retort and glared at the empty shelf behind the Dark Lord's head. Disquieting memories that had slept for a long time stirred once again.

Arcana knew far too much about the greater demons even if she had no practical experience with them, of which she was most thankful. To satisfy her morbid curiosity an age ago, Arcana had read about the Iddimu when she was studying in the fae realms. Combining that with the little practical experience she had with demon summoning in the realms, and with what Isabella had said, Arcana knew that if she helped the Dark Lord, there might be a chance that they would succeed. Surviving was a different matter though.

"The dangers you faced during your other summonings will turn to ash when compared to the power of an Iddimu, my lord." Arcana put her age-won wisdom in her words and magic, hoping against hope that he would listen.

The Dark Lord did not reply, but instead watched Arcana struggle, his crimson eyes gleaming in the firelight. If she did not help him, he might end up dead. That would be glorious, but would likely lead to the unleashing of the Iddimu. Arcana didn't doubt that he could open a Door to that terrible place to bring the demon to this world. He had the power, the knowledge, and the will. If he did it alone, and if he worked a year to prepare, the ritual would probably only fail once he had to both maintain the protective wards and negotiate with the demon. It was simply too much for one mind to handle, and the Dark Lord's magic would unravel.

The fire crackled, and Nagini continued to watch Arcana with unblinking eyes. Arcana rubbed her throbbing temples. What was she thinking? This was suicide, and she had no wish to die.

"There must be another way, my lord." It sounded like pleading, like weakness, but Arcana continued anyway. "This is madness. Killing yourself is not the path to immortality, and that is all that this will accomplish." Not to mention that he would bring her into death with him.

The Dark Lord remained silent, and Arcana scowled. This was like arguing with a rock - much less painful than when he was angry, but somehow much less satisfying as well. The Dark Lord knew it aggravated her, and she was sure that was why he was doing it.

"Did the Guild witch say whether she thought a living wizard could summon this demon, my fae?" the Dark Lord finally spoke, seeing that Arcana had reached an impasse.

Arcana sighed, wondering how this conversation had turned out so differently than she had imagined and knowing that she could not deny what Isabella had said. It was almost as if he already knew the answer.

"She told me that there was only one living wizard who had the power," she said resignedly. Isabella could have been referring to either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore, the two strongest wizards alive, but Arcana knew how the Dark Lord would interpret that.

As expected, the corners of the Dark Lord's mouth curled upward.

"You see, my fae, even she thinks I could do this on my own, and she doesn't know how powerful I have become." The Guild's spy network was extensive enough that they might well have a very good idea of how strong the Dark Lord had become, but if Isabella was really still an outcast and not a mole, then she could only be guessing. "With my power and our combined knowledge, it can be done. You have the right to refuse of course, my fae, but is it worth the risk?"

Arcana clenched her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. There was no real choice. She could not believe she was going to agree, but the Dark Lord would perform the summoning whether she helped him or not, and the danger of a demon wandering freely outweighed the remote possibility that the Dark Lord would just end up killing himself in this fool's endeavor without further repercussions.

"Swear that you will not let it take me. If you truly want my help, then swear it."

"I knew you would see things my way with the proper encouragement." He smiled triumphantly and leaned back in his chair, as if it were the grand throne in his hall. Arcana clenched her hands around the armrests.

"Swear it, or I will let you kill yourself and risk unleashing hell upon this world and mine."

"Only if you give me your word that you will aid me to the best of your ability, my fae." The authority in his soft voice and the vibrations of their magical bond pulled Arcana's gaze back to his, and she nodded.

"You have my word, my lord," Arcana said steadily, despite the terrified fluttering in her chest. She was going to commit an unforgivable betrayal.

The Dark Lord relaxed and straightened, moving more like a serpent than a man, and his smile widened in his victory.

"Then I swear that I will not let the Iddimu take you." A breath of magic hushed along their bond as the agreement was sealed.

"Kill me if it comes to that," Arcana insisted, forcing herself to maintain eye contact when the Dark Lord tried to pierce her mind again.

"That will not be necessary, my fae," he said. He scowled, as if it was a distasteful topic. Arcana raised her chin, determined to hear him say it. "Fine, I will kill you, if that is what you wish," the Dark Lord hissed. Arcana flinched, but then nodded again. It was spoken so he could not deny it later.