“Briii... Aaan.. naaaaa...!”

The roar thundered through the caverns; echoing wall to wall. A hot wind sent gusts of searing heat through main tunnels and into smaller passages. Boulders and walls shuddered, cracked and split. Showers of rock and gravel fell to litter Hell’s floors, and billows of dust rose to mingle with smoke, filling the air with noxious fumes.

All the denizens of the chambers of Hell cringed and trembled in fear. Demons retreated into crevices to lurk behind dark smoke, and Harpies vanished, screeching. Black night-dragons paled to the color of gray ash. Hellhounds cowered, whimpering, and imps wet themselves.

“Aaaaarrrrgghh... Child of Hell, get you here!”

The voice behind the booming roars belonged to the strongest and most dread of all. Satan. High Lord of Hell. The Prince of Darkness, Himself. And, from the sound of things, Himself was in a towering rage. It wouldn’t matter that he was angry with only one. Everyone would feel the touch of his ire. Unless, of course, some one of them delivered Brii Anna to his presence. And, even then, it was chancy. No one volunteered. No one moved. None would dare, even if they cared to. Not by one twitch of muscle, flutter of wing, swish of tail, nor scrape of talon, did anyone give away their hidden location.

It took a while, but his raging did eventually calm to random spurts of vile cursing and intermittent grumbling. Still, no one stirred from his, her or its individual place of concealment. Except for one small child.

Laughing and skidding on loose gravel, she ran. From the smaller tunnels and into the larger caves, she ran through the halls of Hell toward Satan, calling, “Here! I am here, Papa Nick!”

Lucan, one of Satan’s younger sons, moved quickly to reach from his crevice through choking smoke and snatched her up. Turning, he faced the inner walls of his currently chosen fissure and spread his wings to fill the narrow opening. Willing the feathers and membranes of his wings to darken to the same hue as the surrounding stone, he concealed the child. He said, “No, Brii. Hush. You don’t want to go to him now, child.”

Brii Anna struggled. “Yes, I do! Put me down, Lucan. Papa wants me.”

“He might want you, sweetheart, but you don’t want him right now. What have you done this time, I wonder, to make him so very angry?”

She looked genuinely surprised. “I’ve done nothing. What makes you think he’s angry?”

Lucan shook with gentle laughter. “Well... perhaps the bellowing and the cursing, and then perhaps the trembling of the earth and the splitting of rock and stone, and then maybe the fact that he called you ‘Child of Hell’ at the very beginning of this current bout of rage.”

Lucan watched her large and unusual eyes narrow in thought, accentuating the natural slant already there. With that tilt to her eyes, lashes of indecent length and irises the color of deep lavender, she looked every bit the fey golden-haired witch that she was. Already, at just ten years of age, there was much she could do. The only reason she bothered to struggle against his hold rather than simply removing herself from his hands was because of her love and respect for him as a part of her adopted family. This child of light did not belong in Hell.

She shook her head, setting silken curls to bouncing, and said, “No, Lucan. I can’t think of anything. I’ve been good.”

"Good?"

"Mmm... hmm..." She smiled. "Very good."

Lucan grinned. He couldn’t help it. “Your idea of ‘good’ is not always the same as Father’s idea of good, imp.”

Her laughter pealed. “I’m not an imp! I’ve got hair and my teeth are white!”

Lucan chuckled. “They have hair, too, sweet kitten. Granted, it’s rather sparse and of a murky gray, but still--“

A cold and gentle tap on his back startled him so thoroughly he jumped, bumping his elbow against rock with a sharp crack. Placing two long fingers over Brii Anna’s lips, he froze and held his breath.

From behind his shoulders, he heard a cold, cold voice say, “Too late, Lucan. Give me the child.”

Lucan closed his eyes and sighed. He had no choice whatsoever but to obey his father. Hesitating would only raise his ire again and nothing good would come of that. No. No choice whatsoever. He set the child down and pressed her as far into the corner as he could before turning to face his father. He looked into a face that sent wintry dread to his heart. It shouldn’t have. Satan, the Prince of Darkness, Ruler of Hades, Beelzebub, Lord of Chaos, Diablo, Skratte, Lucifer, Mephistopheles, Old Scratch... Papa Nick or by whatever name anyone chose to call him was not an unsightly creature. He was, in fact, quite beautifully handsome; but he somehow managed to inspire undiluted terror in anyone he chose to bestow that particular look upon. That, and the certain knowledge of what he could do with a mere glance.

In spite of the dust and smoke, Satan was immaculate. He was clothed in a black silk, pinstriped suit-- crisply clean-- and a white silk shirt embossed with raised dragons the color of old vanilla; his hair gleamed a glossy black and his eyes reflected light as would the polished surface of an onyx stone.

Lucan searched his father’s face for signs of the humor often lurking there, but found none. He didn’t look as though he’d be receptive to reason either; but Lucan took a deep breath and tried anyway. “Father, she doesn’t remember doing anything bad. She says she's been good and--“

Red flames flickered deep in Satan’s eyes.. Sculpted lips curled and white teeth gleamed in a sweetly beautiful smile. On him, it was absolutely terrifying. He spoke gently, "Get out of my way, Lucan.”

Lucan heard his own wing membranes rustle, and knew he trembled. He was mortified because he knew his father would recognize the sound and the reason behind it. He raised his chin. “Yes, sir... I will, if you'd but listen to me for a moment. I--“

Satan’s smile widened; his eyes brightened. “So brave...“

Lucan felt a pair of small hands push at his legs. He stiffened and took a small step back, pushing the child farther back with the calf of one leg. The flames in his father's eyes leapt and Lucan stilled.

A small fist hit the back of his leg, and suddenly Lucan couldn't feel the child behind him at all. He blinked when she appeared in front of him, fragile arms with dimpled elbows raised toward Satan. "Oh, handsome, Papa Nick!" she chortled. "Where're you going, dressed so pretty?"

Pretty? Lucan choked.

They were gone so quickly; he was left to blink at drifting smoke. Pretty? Oh, hell. He lunged from the crevice, and turned first one way, then the other, trying to determine which way they'd gone. He heard her silvery voice floating back to him from the corridor on his right. The direction made sense. Satan was taking her to his personal quarters, the place where all the rage of the day had originated. Lucan raced after them, leaping over crumbled boulders, sliding on skittering pebbles. The moment he reached the first of the larger caverns, he spread his wings and lifted, to speed on the air currents; but they were ever far enough ahead to be out of sight.

He arrived outside the door to his father's chambers in time to hear, "You say you've been good? You've not been up to anything? Then, what do you call that?" The volume of Satan's voice was raised, but certainly to a lesser degree than the thunder it had been earlier in the day. So. Good. He had calmed somewhat. Lucan found that encouraging. He hesitated long enough to compose himself before stepping casually through the opening into a cavernous room.

"It's a cat, Papa."

Satan and Brii Anna were facing away from Lucan and staring in the direction of Satan's big chair. The leather one in front of the hearth. Lucan moved closer and to the side so he could see the chair as well. She was correct. It was a cat and the biggest one Lucan had ever seen, as far as domestic cats went. This one must weigh a good forty pounds or more.

"I know very well what it is, Brii Anna. I want you to tell me what it's doing here."

Smiling, Brii Anna silently observed the cat where it lay sprawled on its back in Satan's chair. Its hind legs were propped across one of the carved wood and leather arms and its long tail hung down to rest on the floor. The wide head was tilted back and the forepaws curled outward, leaving the throat and belly turned upward toward the ceiling and fully exposed. If Lucan was any judge of cats-- and he wasn't really, he admitted to himself-- then he would have said the heat from the fire had melted whatever brain cells the cat may have had in its wide skull. Not even an imp at its most mischievous would have dared to sit in that particular chair.

Lucan’s gaze swept the chamber walls and floor. Everywhere there were signs of the rage that had embattled the region earlier, but for one small area. No debris littered the space where that one chair sat, upon which lay that cat. Lucan shook his head in wondering disbelief and brought his attention back to the other two occupants of the chamber.

Brii Anna was explaining, "--and, you see, I didn't have anyone to play with, so I decided it would be best if I had a cat to keep me company."

Disquiet whispered through the chamber. "No one to play with?" Satan's voice was so very quiet.

Lucan's hands clenched into fists.

"Well, no one nice, you see, and--"

Satan's voice dropped an octave to become slow and sweet as molasses. He asked, "No one nice? Who has been mistreating you, child?" He lifted her chin and stroked a gentle finger along her jaw and then across one flushed cheek. "Tell me, for I would know."

She had the audacity to smile. "Are you using compulsion on me, Papa?"

Lucan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. It wouldn't do to laugh out loud. The child should not have been able to sense the compulsion, much less resist it. He wished he could see his father's face.

"I don't use compulsion on you, moppet. I was trying to be comforting." The disgruntlement in Satan's voice was plainly evident.

Brii Anna laughed up into his face; chortled with mirth.

Lucan tensed. He understood her laughter; could even empathize with it. Lucan had often seen Satan use compulsion on her. His father had had to take certain measures to keep the child safe in such surroundings as theirs. Laughing up into Satan's face while successfully resisting one of his compulsions wasn't a wise thing to do, however.

Satan stiffened and said, "We'll get rid of the cat and you can choose any one of the hellhounds you please."

Her face fell. "But I don't want one of the hellhounds, Papa."

"I don't see why not. What's wrong with them? I should think one of them would be quite adequate."

"They don't make good pets," she said petulantly.

"Okay, then... a dragon. Choose one of them. There now. That's settled." Satan waved his hands in a graceful swirl, layered his voice with charm, and said, "Come on now. Do your thing, little witch, and get rid of that cat."

Brii Anna looked at the feline, then back at Satan, and said sadly, "I see a lot wrong with them, Papa. The hounds drool, for one thing, and they have nasty tempers. They're beyond stupid and not the least bit pretty. But mostly they're stupid. They chew  rocks, forever crunching and grinding. And, as for the dragons, Papa..." She shook her head. "No dragon would be a pet. They wouldn't stand for it and they do not cuddle. I've tried. Besides, I don't want a pet. I want a companion."

The cat moved and three pairs of eyes stared as it stretched, sat up, wrapped its long tail around its forepaws, and leveled cobalt blue eyes on the two. The Lord of Darkness and the Child of Light stared back. Lucan felt every hair on his body come to attention. This was more than a damned cat.

They watched as the eyes of the cat moved slowly over Satan, inspecting, and somehow giving the impression of... surprise?

Satan inhaled sharply. "Well, you need to find something besides a cat." He shifted a bit uneasily as the cat's tall, tufted ears lowered ominously. Cats were unpredictable at the best of times and this one was large enough to do a lot of damage to the unsuspecting.

"Get rid of it," Satan said flatly.

"But, why, Papa?"

"Because we don't have cats down here."

Brii Anna looked puzzled. "But there's nothing to stop us having a cat here, is there?"

"Yes, there is. They don't do well in Hades. The temperature is too irregular and there's not enough sun."

The child smiled in relief. "Oh, but, you already regulate the temperature for me, and you take me into the sun every day. He only needs to stay with me and he'll be fine."

Regulate? The child is only ten. Where's she getting the words she uses? Lucan wondered.

"Please, Papa?" Lucan heard the tears under the words; feel the sadness welling from her small form even from where he sat. How much more powerful must they have been for the one standing within reach of her touch? He watched his father's shoulders slump in the beginnings of defeat. The bend was infinitesimal, but it was there.

Brii Anna continued, "I'm so very lonely sometimes. Everyone else is always busy taking care of dead people and almost dead people and lost souls and all that stuff, and I don't have enough to do. There are no other kids to play with, alive or dead. No one will let me help with all the work they do, and all I do is study so I'll be ready to live in the outside world when you decide it's time for me to go. A cat can be my companion here and go with me when I leave so there'll be someone with me I know, and I won't be so alone." Her golden head tipped forward, and she swiped at her cheeks. Droplets of water arced from her fingertips to splash on the floor.

Lucan knew the moment Satan folded. He would fight it a bit longer, but the game was already won by the child. Lucan moved silently to a recliner where he could watch unimpeded by other furniture in the room. Eyeing the debris coated cushions, he conjured a sheep's fleece to cover the chair, and then sat back to relax and enjoy his father's defeat. It was such a rare occurrence, after all. He was sure this whole episode should be chronicled in some leather-bound tome and saved for times when his father could be so insufferably superior to all others.

Satan ran his fingers through his hair and grouched, "Oh, very well. But, you'll have to do something about his color. I detest white cats. Make him black."

The cat opened his mouth and issued a token hiss.

Brii Anna giggled.

Satan's eyes narrowed. "And his hair. It's too long. Shorten it."

The cat turned baleful eyes his way, lifted one paw forward to extend saber claws, and then deliberately lowered the sharp points toward the leather cushion of the chair.

Satan growled, "De-clawing would be advisable as well."

Long white fur fluffed as the cat stood and raised its tail. Lucan watched in fascination as the white plume extended to its full height, and quivered.

Satan snarled, "There's a cure for that too, and that little surgery I'd be happy to see to myself!"

The cat sat back down and grinned. There was no other word for it. It was most certainly a grin.

Satan's head turned slowly toward Brii Anna. He spoke quietly, "That is not a cat." He turned back to study the creature. "What have you brought among us, child?"

"Oh, yes, he's a cat alright. He's a Temple Cat, and very smart."

Satan murmured, "Smart ass, no doubt."

"Excuse me, Papa?"

"Nothing, moppet. Temple? As in Holy Temple?"

"Ye-e-ess... Is there a problem with that, sir?"

"Well, this is Hell, little one. Hades. Sheol. There's not much here for those of a godly nature. Of what possible use is he?"

The cat leapt to the floor and strolled over to wrap his length around the girl. She sank her hands into luxuriant fur and pressed her cheek to his forehead. He pressed back and purred a long meowrrrr.

"He pleases me, Papa Nick. And 'cause I love him, he loves me back. I could ask you the same, sir. Of what possible use am I?"

Satan sighed and dropped to one knee. "You are of every possible use, child. You lighten the very depths of Hell and make us all human again." He touched one long blonde curl, and only his lightning reflexes allowed him to escape serious damage by a set of slashing claws. He stared in shocked disbelief at the cat that did not even seem to have paused in his purring.

Satan murmured in dulcet tones, "Have you named him yet? 'Cause I can think of a couple of appropriate ones, myself."

Brii Anna chuckled. It was a deep, richly knowledgeable chuckle and a sound well beyond her years. "He's showing you how fast he can be, Papa. Temple Cats are guardians."

The cat looked up from smoothing his cheek against the child's to stare directly into Satan's eyes. The message was clear. Unmistakable.

Lucan felt the hair rise on his head and forearms once more.

Satan's head turn in his direction, the first indication his father was aware of his presence in the chamber. Their eyes met and Lucan nodded imperceptibly. There was something more here than the need of a child for a pet, and they both now knew it. The girl wasn't telling them everything. Lucan would investigate.

Satan stood, offered a brief bow to the cat, received an abrupt nod in return, and then bent to brush the dust from his knee.

Lucan lifted a snifter of brandy and gulped.

Brii Anna said proudly, "His name's Mephistopheles, but he prefers to be called Meph."

Lucan choked. He covered his mouth as he coughed and wheezed, desperately attempting to recover his strangled breath.

Satan stilled, then drawled, "Oh, I don't doubt." His eyes met those of Mephistopheles and he smirked. "Someone with a diabolical sense of humor?"

The cat scowled and displayed a gleaming fang.

Satan laughed. "Very well, Brii. Take 'Muff' and show him around. Keep him with you at all times. You might want to see about some food for him, as well. Looks like he's a heavy eater."

The cat stalked past Satan and, on the way by, stumbled into his leg, ripping a long gash in the black silk of his new trousers. Regaining his balance, the cat continued to the door, and sat down to wait, ears flicking and white tail tip tapping the floor.

Brii Anna fell to her knees and checked Satan's leg for damage. "It's Meph, Papa. Call him Meph." Shortly, she sat back on her heels and said in relief, "Oh good. Nothing's hurt but your pretty trousers." She reached for his waistline. "Here, take them off, and I'll sew them up for you."

Satan dodged her hands, stumbling backward to fall into his chair. "No, Brii. No! They're fine. I'll have housekeeping take care of them. That's their job, after all. Stop!"

Lucan went to his father's aid. There was nothing else he could do. The sight of Satan scrambling backward from a child's innocent hands was more than he could bear, and his throat was already sore from strangling on his father's brandy.

***

Twelve and a half hours later, Lucan strode into his father's quarters and made straight for the side table and the brandy that was always there. He poured a snifter full, drank it down and poured two more. These he carried to the leather chair in front of Satan's desk. He sat down and pushed one across the desk to his father.

"That bad, is it?" Satan asked quietly.

"Someone's trying to kill her." The temperature in the chamber plummeted by twenty degrees. Lucan shivered. "Near as I can figure, there've been three attempts already." The chamber cooled by another ten degrees, and Lucan wrapped his wings around his own body. "The first two attempts were poison. In the first, her platter was knocked from the table by accident and one of the hellhounds gobbled the contents. He began yelping shrilly and died violently within moments. We were away at the time. The second was in a bowl of fruit placed in her room. A member of housekeeping found two dead imps on the table with the bowl. We were away then, as well. Cook is feeding portions of Brii's food to someone different every day before she allows the child to eat. The third attempt was a near tumble down a viper pit. She was shoved from behind but did not see who or what. Her own quick reflexes and witchcraft saved her then, along with the fact that one of the guardian dragons happened by before she lost her grip on the outcropping of rock she clung to. Once again, we were away. What I have found interesting about the whole thing is that all the information I have gathered has come from the lesser members of housekeeping and from dragon-kind."

Satan placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. He asked quietly, "And why is that so very interesting to you?"

Lucan tilted his snifter to gaze into the contents as he shifted the glass to send the brandy in a slow swirl, releasing its scent into the air. "Well, the fact that none of them confided in any of us."

"And this means what to you?"

"That they suspect some one of us is trying to 'do her in', I believe is how it was put." Lucan raised his eyes to meet those of his father. What he saw there in those black depths was death. Whoever was behind this would most certainly die and die horribly.

Satan said, "You know she's not ready to move to the outside world."

"Yes, I know that. She's developing into a powerful witch and must learn to control all that she will be capable of. Nothing but luck brought her to us before someone was able to kill her off like they slaughtered her parents. I know that much."

Satan drained his snifter and waved the decanter to his side. Grasping the floating vessel, he refilled both snifters and placed the decanter near to hand. "Well, what you may not know, is that her father, himself, entrusted her to my care. He tried to sell his soul to me in exchange for her safety. Once I saw her; once she gurgled up into my face and he wailed in grief, I gave him back his soul. He had lost far too much for me to keep his soul as well. I promised him I'd keep her safe, and she'd never want for a single thing. I told him when the time was right, and she was fully prepared, I'd return her to the living world, and then I sent him on to a better place to join his wife."

Lucan leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk edge. "So... are you thinking the ones who destroyed her parents have now found her here?"

Satan rested his head against the leather of his chair back. "No, I don't really think so. I tracked them down, you see; them and those that sponsored them. And, then there're the wards I set up to guard against that very possibility. Anyone of their ilk would find it more than difficult to infiltrate our domain. No. If housekeeping feels it's coming from inside, then inside is the most likely source. Servants always know."

"Well, then, I hope you do not mind the changes I've set in motion."

Satan sat forward and said softly, "You want to maybe get my approval before you do something?"

"I don't think you'll mind these, Father. But, if you do, let me know, and I'll change them. The thing is I don't want to leave her in her current quarters, as it's well known where she sleeps, and it's a bit isolated there. I've set housekeeping to moving her belongings into the room next to this one, and I'm moving into the one on the other side of that."

Satan nodded. "That seems sound. There're connecting doors from both our rooms into that chamber." With one long finger, he tapped his chin thoughtfully, and then asked, "The guardian dragon that pulled her from the pit?"

Lucan said, "Ssnerkectidy."

Satan smiled fondly. "Ah, yes. Old Ssnerk. Place him in this corridor. She's to go nowhere without one of the three of us until this is solved. I've been considering motivations, and I can see no real motivation for one of my offspring to wish to eliminate her."

A strange and unexpected voice spoke from the doorway, jolting them both to their feet. The force of which sent the decanter onto its side, soaking Satan's white silk shirt with a heavy spray of dark brandy.

Meph sat in the doorway and smirked. No one else was visible. Satan cursed and swiped at his shirtfront while Lucan sniffed at the air, searching for the owner of the voice. Finding no one else near, he came to an inescapable conclusion, and turned his eyes on the cat.

Lucan tilted his head and asked, "What did you say?"

The white tufted ears flicked and the cat replied, "I said that it doesn't have to be a real motivation. It can be a conceived motivation."

"What the devil do you mean by that and why the hell did no one tell us you could talk?" Satan snarled.

"To answer your last question first; no one told you I could talk because you did not ask. And, as to your second question: a conceived motivation is a motivation that someone thinks is real and, therefore, they believe is reason enough to act. Jealously is usually behind that type of motivation, or the need to remove an obstacle, or revenge for some real or imagined wrong."

Satan said through clenched teeth, "Thank you for your insight, Muff; but Brii Anna is not an obstacle."

The cat moved so quickly, he was nothing more than a blur, and then he was on the desk directly in front of Satan.

"The name is Mephistopheles. I shortened it, for those who have short-term memory problems, to Meph. Only someone with the brains of a rock would have a problem remembering the sequence of four little letters. That wouldn't be a problem for you, would it?"

Satan's fingers stilled on his shirtfront and smoke began to form at the edges of the chamber.

Lucan bit his lips and moved quickly to step between them. He asked Meph, "Where's Brii now?"

Meph smiled. "She's in the chamber next door, directing those moving her belongings in. She's overjoyed with the change in the rooms. It puts her closer to her two favorite people, and she feels honored to move out of what she seems to think of as the 'nursery wing' and into a young lady's boudoir."

Lucan returned to his chair and chuckled. "She likes the furniture in there, does she?"

"Very much so. That bed alone will be so much more comfortable and--"

Satan interrupted by clearing his throat and then said icily, "Never mind that bed. You will stay out of her bed. I'll have no fleas left where my wife used to sleep. You--"

Long white whiskers twitched. "Which wife?"

"What?"

"I said: Which wife?"

Satan's eyes gleamed red. "My wives are none of your business. I've lived a long time. Thousands of years. When one lives that long, there are bound to be a number of wives unless one chooses celibacy. I don't know what you think you mean by--"

Meph interrupted, "Well, that means I'm wondering which of your wives-- er, ex-wives, deceased wives, 'no longer here' wives-- you've been preserving that bed for. Is there one in particular?"

Lucan had time to say, "Ah, Hell," before the temperature of the chamber dropped to below freezing.

Meph sat and calmly wrapped his tail around his paws. "I only ask because I wonder which one would have the most reason to be jealous of a young girl."

Satan dropped into his chair suddenly, and the temperature in the chamber normalized. His head dropped forward onto his hands, and he laughed weakly. Then louder. Laughed until the laughter became giggles while his audience of two watched and waited.

Eventually, Lucan turned his head toward Meph and raised his voice to speak over the laughter. "So, judging by your questions, I'm assuming you don't feel the attempts involved any of my father's offspring?"

"No, I don't. I've shared mind-thought with Brii, and I've only found much love and respect in all her memories involving your family members. No, the two attempts with poison, the snakes, and the taint of jealousy all have a feminine feel to them." He was silent for a moment, and then turned his blue eyes on the now silent and attentive Satan. Abruptly, he asked, "Did you spawn any daughters?"

Satan's jaw muscles bunched, loosened, and then bunched again; but he did respond. "Not as of yet."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Meph sighed. "Any affairs with housekeeping staff? Servants?"

"Never."

"Well, then, that pretty much narrows it down to wives and such."

Satan stood suddenly. "Lucan, I want her removed from that chamber. Now."

"Why ever for?" Lucan rebelled. "I'm not going in there to tell her she has to leave a room she's excited about. I'll not be the one to hurt her feelings like that. You do it if you want it done."

"It's better that than what the alternative might be. If a female is jealous of a girl child's very existence, what's she going to feel to have that girl placed in her vacant room?"

"Oh!" Lucan leapt to his feet and raced for the connecting door, but already it was too late. An anguished scream rattled the knick-knacks on the shelves, and something crashed in the chamber next door. Shrieks and screams escalated in volume.

They ceased abruptly as Lucan attempted to open the door. The latch wouldn't budge so he simply ripped the door from its frame. He surged through with Satan directly behind him. Lucan had no idea how the cat did it, but somehow Meph got past them both and now stood over a still form lying on the floor. Blood was everywhere. On every surface. And body parts. The cat looked more than double its size and squalled deafeningly. His eyes were turned upward a bit, and aimed at a spot over their heads.

Satan pressed against Lucan's hand gently. They separated to move away from each other, slowly circling until they were positioned to either side of Meph and looking up at what he was seeing.

"Helena..." Satan breathed her name.

She was beautiful. Even in death. Even as a harpy. Lucan's throat closed and he struggled to get a breath past the blockage there. Even though already technically dead; if it was she who had harmed the child, then she would be made to suffer more than what she was coping with now, living as a harpy. He didn't know if he could bear it. She'd been such a good and loving mother.

She tilted her head and a black curtain of hair spilled over her shoulder. She smiled at Satan and said in a voice of crystal clarity, "Hello, Nicky, my love. I've missed you so." She looked at Lucan. Love fairly glowed on her face. "And Lucan, my son. So grown. You've done well by him, Nicky. Thank you."

Listening to Satan's harsh breathing, Lucan tore his gaze from his mother's face to glance around at the evidence of the recent slaughter that had taken place in the chamber. He felt like weeping. He was very close to doing so. Could she have done such wanton viciousness? His mind spun, making him dizzy. Yes. Yes, she very well could have, if she'd felt the need. His mother was born a warrior. A defender of the weak and innocent. At least she had been.

Satan asked in tender tones, "Who is this splattered all over your chamber, Helena?" He asked it as though he were asking about spilled nail polish.

She made a moue of distaste. "It's hard to kill using talons without making a mess. I apologize for that." She glanced around. "This was such a lovely room." She dipped her head toward first one location and then another. "Those various pieces there were Agnes, your Head of Housekeeping, and those over there belong to her daughter. The daughter is the one you rebuffed over and over during our marriage, and finally had to threaten to send her away. I always did want to take her apart. They thought to carve up your adopted daughter and so cause you the greatest amount of pain they felt they could cause you.” She raised her chin and sniffed. “They planned for the blame to fall on me." She looked at Meph where he stood over the still form of Brii Anna, his nose sniffing, searching the child, and she smiled, "She fought bravely, your little witchling; but she took a blow to the back of her head. The imp hiding under the bed is the one that coshed her--"

Meph snarled and dove under the bed to come out the other side with a struggling and screeching imp clamped in his jaws. Lucan jumped to help restrain the teeth and claws ripping and tearing at the cat's soft nose and muzzle. Finally, Lucan simply dumped the jewels from a small trinket box and locked the imp inside it.

Satan sank to his knees beside Brii Anna and lifted her head, fingers searching beneath her hair. Finding nothing more than a lump on the back of her head, he closed his eyes in relief and said, "Thank you, Helena. She's like a daughter to me. I was so afraid you might think--"

Helena laughed, the sound like crystal bells chiming. "I know, darling. I know you didn't realize it, but I was there when she was brought to you. I know very well you received her on the same day of the year as on our own daughter's death and mine the year before. I had come to mourn with you. Instead I saw new life in your eyes, and I knew we had no need to mourn anymore. Do not worry so. With all of us seeing to it, she'll grow into a good and strong witch, and be ready when it's time for her to leave for the living world."

"Thank you, Helena. I would that you would visit more often."

"Very well, husband. But for now you'd best do something before the child awakens and sees all this. I'll see you in a few days. Until then…" Musical laughter lingered when she left. Satan closed his eyes, grief etching his face.

The box in Lucan's hands shifted with the struggles of the imp inside, and he took delight in giving it a good shaking. Meph laughed. Blood dripped from the cat's muzzle.

Satan stood and lifted Brii Anna in his arms. "Where shall we put her, Lucan? She can't stay in this room while this mess is cleaned up."

"Take her to your chamber for now, Father. I'll get someone to clean this up. We'll put her back in here once that’s done. I need to assign a new Head of Housekeeping and get Old Ssnerk up here in the halls. We also need someone to look at Brii's head and Meph's face."

"I can handle healing a small bump and a few scratches, Lucan. You take care of the rest and join me in my chambers. And bring food."

***

Lucan arrived with two platters of food to find Satan and Meph sitting companionably by the hearth. The talk was about Temple Cats and their duties and privileges. There was no sign of injury remaining on the cat's face.

"How is she?" Lucan asked.

Satan replied, "She's fine. I healed the lump and she woke long enough for me to check her vision. She's under a sleep compulsion now so she'll sleep the rest of the night."

The three males consumed the contents of the platters while the chamber next door was cleaned. When it was time, Lucan went to Satan's bedchamber and then came back through, carrying Brii Anna to her new chamber. He returned, smiling. "Looks like new in there. Maybe she won't remember any of it."

Meph said, "She'll remember all of it. She's a witch."

Satan said, "Yes, but surely she doesn't know all of it. The 'why' and all that."

Meph smiled. "She does. She is the one who summoned me to her side." While they digested that, he stood and ambled toward the connecting door to Brii Anna's chamber.

Satan drawled, "Where do you think you're going?"

Meph did not pause. "I'm off to bed. You should go too. You're overtired."

Satan's voice became silky. "Remember what I said about fleas in that bed. That goes for cat hairs too. Stay out of it."

Meph did stop then. He turned and swept Satan with a disapproving glance. "Shame about that blouse, really. You should be more careful of your clothing."

"Blouse?" Satan's eyes gleamed.

Lucan interjected, "Well, that was a short truce."

Meph nodded and said distinctly, "Chemisier."

Satan held up one hand and made a negligent gesture.

Meph lurched. There was a clacking sound. He snarled, "Undo that. Now."

"Or what, Muffy Cat?"

Meph strolled toward a tall cupboard, clacking. Lucan struggled to identify the sound and finally realized it was coming from the cat's backend. Meph snarled and the cupboard door ripped from its hinges to land on the floor. The cat disappeared inside. Lucan heard sounds of ripping and shredding. Satan shifted in his chair a time or two as pieces of clothing floated from the open cupboard. Suddenly he shouted and the ripping stopped.

Meph leapt from the dark recesses to say politely, "Thank you," and then paced calmly and silently into the next room. The new door closed quietly.

Satan mumbled, "Don't mention it."

Lucan waited, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming from his father. He stared pointedly at Satan and waited a bit longer. Finally he asked, "Okay, damn it. What was the clacking?"

Satan's tone was sweetly dulcet. "Well, he was acting as though they were made of brass..."