Behind the Bitmask Read online

  “Edgar is a fine specimen of humanity. Never met him myself, but his name is well regarded around these parts, since he singlehandedly slew a dread titan who once ruled over a realm of big iron some distance from here,” Agnus explained. He paused to cough and then informed me, “I forget the titan’s name. It wasn’t really anything a human could pronounce without tearing themselves to shreds though; I think it translated to something like ‘Floating Point.’”

  “How’d he manage to do it?” I asked. To say I wanted an explanation was an understatement.

  “That’s the glory of it! Apparently, he discovered a way to escalate his local privilege and channel magical resources humans usually aren’t allowed to handle. We were glad he did it, too. That titan probably would’ve attacked my lands if he hadn’t been stopped.” Agnus coughed again, and this time a few driblets of blood came out, but he kept on talking as if it hadn’t happened.

  “He’s still alive. I can inform him you’d like to meet, if you want,” he continued, this time sounding a little hoarse.

  “Sure, do that. That’s not the reason I came here, though.”

  “If not Edgar, than what brings you here?”

  I steeled myself as much as I could before I spoke. It was going to be a tough bargain.

  “When I checked out of the hospital, I was informed that you had confiscated my personal sword. I need it in order to protect myself from future assassins, so I am humbly requesting that you return it to me,” I said. Usually I’m not so obsequious, but it’s proven to be quite helpful around certain types of titans. Perhaps not Agnus, though; he immediately burst out laughing.

  “Everyone wants their swords back! But this is a civilized place in the midst of a civilized age, so you shouldn’t actually need a sword to defend yourself!” he ranted, gesticulating wildly with his flabby hands as he spoke.

  “Agnus, if I didn’t have any weapons in the first place, that assassin would have killed me without a second thought, and your ability to prevent violence in your territory would come into question,” I responded. It was a long shot, but maybe he’d listen? To my surprise, he nodded in what I hoped was agreement.

  “You have a point. But now that you’re formally in my protection, there should be no need for you to keep such a barbaric weapon around.” I wasn’t yet confident of Agnus’s ability to defend his territory given that Nicholas had nearly managed to kill me. I also worried that Sigmar would send some more competent to finish the job. I had yet to see any soldiers or policemen or really any show of force in this place beyond the catastrophic duel.

  After Agnus had gone on at some length about how his security was top notch – and started bleeding from his nose in addition to apparently his lungs – I asked him if he could actually show me any of his security personnel. He paused for a while. Utter silence, but for a droplet of blood pinging against the floor.

  “Hold on, I need to adjust my dosage,” he explained after a while. He turned around, rolled up his sleeves, and jammed his hands down his throat. I thought he was about to puke his guts out, but he didn’t. After making a series of horrible choking and retching noises, he slowly, gently pulled out of his mouth the largest brick of cocaine that I had ever seen because despite all evidence to the contrary, film producers have admirable restraint. I also had to wonder why it was literally a brick – wasn’t cocaine supposed to be powdered? What the hell were the Colombian cartels doing these days? After peering at the brick for a few moments, he broke it into two pieces, crammed the larger one back down his throat with even more terrifying sounds, and then whistled while waving the smaller one in the air. An emaciated daemon with silvery, metallic skin walked in from another room and took the remaining chunk from his hand.

  “Put this in the fridge so I can save it for later,” Agnus said to the daemon, who silently nodded and trotted off. When Agnus turned to me, he’d stopped bleeding, but seemed as energetic as ever.

  “So, is my request reasonable? I would feel a lot better if I knew what to look for in terms of your security retinue,” I told Agnus. I was hoping I could ignore what just happened.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Let me just make a call.” He pulled out a cell phone and sent a text to someone. After a minute, a well-armored human (or at least, a chthon that passed for it) marched into the room, stopped exactly ten paces away from Agnus, and threw a stiff salute.

  “Master Sergeant Marisa Robinson reporting for duty, Sir!” At least now, she looked like a model of military discipline, with the sort of ramrod posture that comes from years of intensive physical conditioning and never even considering high heeled shoes. Her plain face was devoid of emotion, but something about it made me think she’d gladly kill everyone in the room if she was ordered to.

  “My guest here wants reassurance that my security is top notch and that she needn’t fear external threats while she’s here. Can you do that?” Agnus explained.

  “You have my reassurance, ma’am, that not only will you be safe from rogue actors seeking to disrupt the stability of Agnus’s court, but that the consequences of attempting to launch a concerted attack upon this realm would far outweigh any possible level of operational success,” she told me. “Permission to return to my normal duties, sir?” she said to Agnus.

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Marisa threw a salute and marched off.

  “They’re not all that uptight, but it helps to have a few squares to keep everything running smoothly,” Agnus snarked. “Also, they don’t want to get in the way too much, so you probably won’t see them too often unless you go actively looking for trouble.”

  “Well, I’m not planning to do that,” I responded. “But can you prevent Sigmar’s assassins from even getting to the point where they attempt to kill me?”

  “I can certainly try! As damaging as it probably was to our local reputation, your fight with the one guy...you said his name was Nicholas? That was pretty cool. I might commission a painting of it-”

  “Please don’t. It was not my finest moment.”

  “Aw.” Luckily, Agnus didn’t seem too dented by my rejection and was back to pacing maniacally in seconds. I still hoped he wouldn’t hold this against me.

  “Either way, it was probably for the greater good. Sigmar’s conquests aren’t going to end any time soon; even with you out of the picture, he still has enough leadership to handle his ever-growing armies. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to ever invade my lands, but pretty much everyone else in a 200 mile radius is in immediate danger.” Agnus stood entirely still for a moment.

  “We still need to stay extra vigilant and secure around here just in case Sigmar gets any dangerous ideas! If you want to make yourself useful, you could help by supporting the local security. It’ll get you the cash you need for your insurance co-pay. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

  I wasn’t expecting a job offer so early in. After my experiences with Aux and Sigmar, I didn’t really know how I felt about pledging myself to the servitude of a titan. Then I realized that Agnus was offering me money. That on its own wouldn’t be enough to convince me, but it definitely piqued my interest.

  “It does sound tempting. I do have to make myself useful somehow,” I ended up responding.

  “Yes, you do.”

  So, Agnus set me up with a comfortable apartment near the center of his city; it was close to all the amenities the city had to offer, and only a five minute walk away from his throne rooms. As I dropped my backpack on the carpeted floor, one of the movers informed me that for a fee, I could have some of my belongings magically summoned to this location.

  “How are you going to do that at all, much less without drawing unwanted attention from Earth’s government?” I asked.

  “It’s not nearly as conspicuous as you think,” the mover explained. “First, you get someone you trust to go through your home and box up whatever you want transferred. Then, w
e send one of our guys over to move those boxes to one of our faculties, and then we just carry it through a portal and rely on FedEx’s hell division for the last mile or so.”

  “FedEx ships to hell now?”

  “We also use DHL sometimes. It’s ten dollars per pound of materials to be shipped, so if you’re interested, give us a call and we’ll set something up.”

  That was enormously tempting. There was only one problem, though – the only other people who had a key to my apartment on Earth were my parents. I’d given them a spare on the condition that they were only to use it for welfare checks (i.e, if their darling Charlotte goes off the grid for more than a few days, they can go in to make sure I haven’t been murdered in my bed). Luckily, they were exceedingly trustworthy people, and at the time, I didn’t think they’d ever end up using this privilege. Then I’d literally gone to hell. For the most part, I’d been able to keep them in the dark on my occult lifestyle, but they’d definitely noticed when I’d made my call from Agnus’s hospital. To say they were elated is an understatement.

  I made another call once I’d set up the phone service in my new apartment – this time, I told them about how I’d gotten myself in servitude to the forces of hell. Apparently, the Greek Orthodox Church does not look kindly upon witches and sorceresses. When they heard about what Nicholas had done to me, they completely lost control. They’d yelled at me for at least half an hour, but I couldn’t bear to hang up on them. I begrudgingly waited through their screaming and raving and occasionally asked them if they were done yet. I know, disrespectful – but I had newfound debts and was worried that Agnus might treat me the same way Aux had – or Sigmar. After my parents had vented for a while, they cooled down. My mother offered some bland platitudes about the redeeming power of the word of God, and my father told us he was donating some of his salary to a local missionary organization that was preaching to chthons in hell and earning converts. There was even talk at the local congregation of co-opting some of the new converts into the priesthood.

  If you’d told me as a girl that when I grew up, we would be preaching Christianity to demons and succeeding, I would’ve labeled you as insane and asked for some ice cream. This just seems to be how it is, though. I have a vague feeling that things are going to get much worse as humanity tries to utilize more and more magic, but I don’t know for sure. Maybe we’ll pull through and build a better society? Now that I’m not actively leading a double life of depravity, that might actually be a good thing to aim for.

  It’s become clear that we live in an exceedingly strange world, and it’s our own damn fault.

  “Hello, Mom? Remember how I gave you the keys to my apartment? I need you to do me a favor.”

  I kept rehearsing this intro in my head. Even if the previous conversation had ended with some sort of detente, I’d still almost certainly opened up a source of conflict with my parents, and I wanted to be exceedingly careful in my head. Finally, at around 7:00 in the evening (both local and in Minnesota because in another sign of human interference, hell has time zones, too), I called my mother, hoping she’d be finished with supper and not off at a party or something. Luckily, she picked up before I had to think about what I’d say in a voicemail. We exchanged some pleasantries before I decided to focus in on the reason I’d called.

  “Are you saying that you’ve managed to find a new place?” said Mom. “You have to make sure you get a job as soon as possible, otherwise you’ll run out of money to pay the rent with, and then you’ll be back out on the streets again.” She was right, but that wasn’t very helpful. When I was a child, such simple advice may have probably saved me from a thousand hardships, but as an adult, I craved solutions more than strategies. I reminded myself I didn’t want to sit through another meltdown and let her continue for a while.

  “I have an interview on Monday. If I get the job, I won’t have any problems with budgeting. If I don’t, I need to have something professional to wear for the next interview,” I explained when she was done; almost immediately, I heard my mother relax.

  “They use human currency in hell, right? I don’t want you selling your soul just to keep your body alive.”

  It was settled, then – I was never, ever telling my parents about the existence of soul magic, although by making that resolution, I was assuming that I’d never get into another situation like this. Best not to tell them about blood magic, either. In fact, it would probably be best if I didn’t discuss any sort of occult topics with them beyond the bare minimum, but the odds that I could get away with that at this point in my life were nil.

  “So exactly how did you get to the point where you had to have your body regrown in the deepest pits of hell? Every time I say that, I feel like I have to go confess to our priest,” asked Mom.

  “Do you really want me to explain? You’ll hate me if I give you the whole story.” I heard my mother sigh over the phone line. She was tensing up again.

  “Just tell me what happened. I’ll decide what to think of it when you’re done,” she said after a moment. So, I gave her the executive summary, from when I fell into the orbit of Aux to when I picked up the phone to ask if she’d help me move my belongings. It was a lot for me to merely think about...and I wasn’t expecting Mom to understand how much our worldviews had diverged in the last few years. She was silent for a minute when I finished. I heard some rustling and clattering, and someone else spoke into the phone.

  “Did you ever tell this ‘Sigmar’ character that you had a family? From what you’ve said, it sounds like he might try to kill us in order to punish you,” said my father; I guess he had been listening in on our conversation. How else would he insert himself so abruptly?

  “Good lord in Heaven, that would be terrible!” shouted my mother. I had to intervene before they worked themselves into a panic.

  “Mom, Dad, I never told Sigmar about either of you and never even considered it! Most likely, he hasn’t even thought of going after anyone but me...and other titans in hell, but that hardly affects you, right?” I thought this explanation would hold up.

  “But what if he decides to target us? He sounds cruel enough to try,” my mother asked. She had the right idea about Sigmar, for whatever that’s worth.

  “Charlotte, we need to know if we should seek some sort of protection, whether it be from the police, or the diocese, or some other source,” said my father. It was probably good that he was more focused on resolving the problem, since nobody could talk my mother out of a panic attack once it started.

  “I-”

  “And no, we are not selling ourselves to demons. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place!” he interrupted. Dad probably couldn’t hear my scowl. If my mother’s fears that Sigmar would try to retaliate against me by killing my family were true, then I had no time to waste.

  “Don’t go to the police. They aren’t good at dealing with the human underworld, much less the daemonic one,” I finally said. “You guys told me that the church has a presence in hell. They probably would be able to direct you to better resources, so I’d recommend you give them a shot.”

  “Charlotte, is that a yes or a no?” asked my father. He was beginning to sound nervous.

  “If it makes you feel better, it’s a yes.” A gasp, followed by a low thud.

  “Your mother just fainted, Charlotte. I have to admit I’d like to join her, but I need to call our church and get some guidance. Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

  “Well, the reason I called in the first place is that I need to get some stuff transferred from my old apartment, and I was hoping you still had the key I gave you,” I explained. Now that my parents were seriously considering going into hiding, though, the timing could be a major problem.

  “You want us to do that now, of all times?” Dad shouted. I needed to revisit my strategy for requesting things from my parents.

  “What better ti
me is there? As far as I know, the odds of Sigmar actually trying something are only going to rise, so you might as well act before he does.”

  “Exactly how are we going to get your stuff to hell?”

  “There are some movers that serve the Minneapolis area. They charge a bunch, but it’s still cheaper than buying new clothes and furniture. I’m trying to save money, remember?” My father groaned at this.

  “I’m not going to make you pay for the moving service, unless you really want to. Can you help me out with this?” I finally asked.

  “Alright, fine! How does it work?”

  I explained it to him, though at this point I hadn’t worked out all the specifics. Agnus had a portal system – with enough energy and computing power, he could open up portals to Earth in arbitrary places. This would probably cause untold property damage one day (maybe he’d open one at the bottom of the Mariana Trench for epic surfing), but for now, it was exorbitantly expensive to open portals outside a few points where the barrier between worlds was at its weakest. One of these happened to be less than 20 miles from my apartment. If Sigmar ever took control of Agnus’s realm, it’d be a serious problem. If FedEx beat them to it... Well, maybe it’d spur a logistics revolution?

  Either way, my plan to get things delivered to my new apartment succeeded within a few days, after I worked out transactions with the magical movers and figured out what to transfer with the help of my parents. Since I wasn’t going to Earth any time soon, they also did me another solid favor by terminating my lease. I can’t imagine what my landlord must’ve thought – we were on cordial, if distant terms due to my overall reclusiveness and automated rent payments, so having to deal with my nervous parents trying to move me out on my behalf can’t have been exactly pleasant. But it was worth it for the experience of opening up a box and finding it packed to the brim with my own fancy outfits. I imagine some of the small appliances and such that I’d acquired at my old apartment would also come in handy, but that’s hardly relevant. Two large boxes of clothes meant that even if I didn’t have nearly the wardrobe I did on Earth, I had more than enough to get by and dress up or down for various social purposes.