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It feels strange to enter the woods again, to see with my own eyes the extent of the devastation. But among the charred, blackened remains of the forest that holds the memories of my childhood, signs of new life are emerging even as snowflakes drift between the trees. At their bases, green whispers from beneath the snow, and animals reclaiming their home scamper at our approach. Death has shed its skin, as Lobelia shed his.
He is unusually quiet as we navigate the woods. The broom could have taken us all the way to the house, but I wanted to make this last part of the journey on foot. Although my staff makes for a good walking stick, Lobelia offers an arm, and when felled trees make the paths impenetrable, he lifts me in his arms and uses his wings. While it's obvious he’s showing off by the way he smiles at me each time, these bursts of flight make the journey easier, so I am content to be carried and kissed before he returns me to the ground.
“You’re shaking, Lucil,” he observes as we near the place where my grandfather’s house stood. Any minute now, what remains will be visible through the trees. Lobelia mistakes my nerves for fear. “With me here, nothing can harm you.”
I shake my head. “I’m afraid to see what’s left.”
Sometimes he can be unbelievably tender, such as the way he would cling to my back as we flew here from the castle. He takes my face in his warm hands. His eyes are brown, the demon fire hidden for my sake along with his pointed ears. The wings he tucks away. My grandfather will know what Lobelia is on sight, but even so, I appreciate the gesture.
“I’ll remake your home for you,” Lobelia vows. “If you like, I will make it a hundred times grander.”
Being a demon, he doesn’t quite understand that it’s not the house itself I’m worried about. I could remake it myself with my new powers. It’s the memory of the fire that haunts me, of what the humans did to us. I don’t know that I’m ready to deal with those feelings, but I have to see my grandfather, to let him know I’m alright. I’m sure he knows. His seeking abilities far surpass mine. He probably knows about Lobelia already. I blush thinking what he might have seen while we were in the castle, but I can’t worry about that right now. I place my hands on top of Lobelia’s over my cheeks.
“Maybe twice as big,” I mumble. “It will be cramped with three of us.”
From his place inside of Lobelia’s robe, Carbo meows to remind me of his presence. I can’t believe my own familiar has chosen this demon over me, but I suppose that I’ve also chosen this demon. I raise on my toes to kiss him.
“Thank you for coming here with me.”
Lobelia pulls me against him and lifts me off of the ground, not with his arms beneath my legs like the last few times, but held flush against him so that he can kiss me as we walk. This way, I’m not able to see what lies in front of us, but maybe that’s better. I’ll look when we reach it.
I wrap my arms and legs around him, careful not to squish Carbo, who peeks out from Lobelia’s collar and jumps down onto the snow, scampering ahead of us. Resting my chin on Lobelia’s shoulder, I close my eyes. He held me tight the day he rescued me from the fire. It’s fitting he holds me as we return.
I breathe in his scent and let my worries go. I still don’t trust humans, but Lobelia is right: nothing will happen to me with him here, and if it had not been for the fire, it’s unlikely we would have met. He would have sought out another sorcerer’s power to sustain him until his rebirth, and that sorcerer would be the one with him now, the one he calls his own. It’s foolish to feel jealous over a hypothetical but I tighten my arms around his neck, just a bit.
“We’re almost there,” Lobelia says and lengthens his stride.
After another minute, he stops walking, but his arms remain firmly wrapped around me.
“Shall I put you down?” he asks.
I bury my face against his neck and nod. His arms loosen and I slide down his front. My stomach is in knots. For as much as I wanted to leave it, I long for the safety of his castle. I don’t want to look. I don’t want to, but I know I must. Clutching his robes in my fists, I summon the nerve to turn around.
The house is exactly as I remember it, down to the knot in the wood beside the rusty door handle. As a child, I thought the knot resembled a face, the spirit of the house. I approach slowly, extending a hand, expecting my fingertips to push through the illusion, but the door is solid. My grandfather has remade our home. Of course he has. I feel foolish for expecting a ruin.
I can sense Lobelia behind me as I push on the door and swing it inward. Carbo strolls inside. Before I can call out, my grandfather appears and has me in his embrace.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Lucil.”
The fire wasn’t his fault, but I understand what he means. He wishes he’d been able to protect me the way he has my whole life. He wishes I would not have needed a demon’s help to survive. I speak against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come home sooner.”
Grandfather’s clothes are heavy with the scent of his tobacco. I inhale it and hold my breath. He’s alive. My grandfather is alive. The two people I care about are together in this place.
Lobelia has remained at the threshold, watching. With my magic, I can see his eyes on me. I release my grandfather and turn around to offer a hand.
“Grandfather, this is Lobelia,” I say. “He saved me from the fire.”
Lobelia’s human-like appearance cannot disguise the dark miasma that follows him. I’ve grown used to it, but my grandfather’s eyes are narrowed. It’s a moment before he reacts, bringing his pipe to his lips and taking a long drag.
“Well, come in, both of you. You’re letting out the warm air.”
Lobelia strides inside and closes the door behind him. We remove our outer robes that are damp from the snow and hang them near the fire. Lobelia makes himself at home on one of the two stuffed chairs and holds out his arms as if he expects me to sit on his lap. I put my back to the fire and make a show of warming myself. Lobelia, looking a bit put out, shrugs but doesn’t complain.
True to his word, he’s letting me be the one to speak. I don’t think my grandfather will order us away. If he’d wanted to do that, he would’ve turned Lobelia away at the door. But that doesn’t mean he’ll approve of his grandson forging a soul bond with a demon.
My grandfather puts a kettle on the fire and prepares three cups of tea in silence. Carbo twines between his legs, then presents his head to Lobelia to be petted. Once he has had enough, he disappears into my bedroom. It’s so quiet in the house I can hear myself swallow. I want to reach out for Lobelia. Touching him will calm me, I think, but I don’t dare. The silence is broken by the kettle’s wail. When we each have a mug in our hands, that’s when my grandfather speaks.
“I suppose I ought to let you explain first.”
He settles into his chair with a guarded expression that borders on a scowl. It’s aimed at Lobelia, not at me, but the demon merely smiles and makes a grand gesture in my direction. I shouldn’t have told him to watch his mouth. We could use some of his hubris to breach the awkwardness. But this is my responsibility, my family. If I want my grandfather’s blessing, I have to be the one to ask for it.
“I thought that you were dead,” I hear myself say. “If I had known you were alive, I wouldn’t have left the forest.”
I pause for a drink, uncertain what I should say next, and roll the tea around and around my mouth. Grandpa always uses too many leaves and the taste is bitter.
“With his help, I was able to find you.”
Grandpa tilts his head. “Oh? It doesn’t seem like you would need help to do that, not anymore.”
My power. A sorcerer of his caliber can tell that it’s unlocked, just like Lobelia can. Embarrassed from recalling everything that led up to the unlocking, I blush and rub my neck.
“Some things happened.”
I sound like a child. Instinctively, I glance at Lobelia for support. He’s resting his cheek against an elegantly poised hand and lightly nods to encourage me.
“... a soul covenant,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Grandpa says and makes a show of cupping his left ear. “My hearing hasn’t been the same since the fire.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying to give me a chance to correct what I was about to reveal. Nothing on his face gives him away. If he heard me and I take it back, I’d be breaking faith with both of them. Lobelia doesn’t deserve that, not after coming with me all this way. If Grandpa can’t accept me for what I’ve done, I’ll have to find a way to re-earn his trust. There’s simply no way around it.
A deep sip of tea soothes my throat and makes my next words clearer:
“We forged a soul covenant. That’s what unlocked my magic.”
The line of Grandpa’s mouth hardens and the sight of it sends my stomach plummeting. Please, I plead to the universe. Please, I just got him back. Don’t take him from me again.
“Lucil, why don’t you sit?” Lobelia asks, suddenly at my side.
He’s holding onto my arm and takes the tea I nearly dropped. Laying it aside, he helps me to the chair he’d been sitting in and kneels down in front of it. With both hands, he captures one of mine and brings it to his lips.
“Better, my little sorcerer?”
His scent is calming me and I realize my legs—no, my whole body is quaking. In one movement he stands, the fine silk of his robes rustling, and turns to face my grandfather.
“Lucil was so excited to get here that we forgot to stop for lunch. It was neglectful of me.” Lobelia bows his head.
“You’re older than him,” Grandpa says.
In my state, I only half register the words. He is speaking in a clipped tone I’ve only heard him use with humans who didn’t want to pay what they owed after benefitting from our magic.
“Yes,” Lobelia says graciously, without any of his usual airs.
“I reckon you’re older than me, older than this whole forest—the one that burned. What does a being with your power want with a fledgling sorcerer like Lucil? He can’t be any use to you.”
Huh? Grandpa doesn’t think I’m good enough for Lobelia? Isn’t this way of thinking backwards? Lobelia doesn’t appear thrown off by it, though, and brandishes a pale hand in the air.
“On the contrary. He’s a marvelous help to me. Only a few days ago, he helped me prevent widespread devastation. Without him, it’s impossible to predict how far a plague would have spread.”
An elegant way of saying he fucked me often enough that he didn’t die before his rebirth as an archdemon and release his toxins on the world. Even though Lobelia’s words by themselves reveal nothing, I wonder if Grandpa knows about our relationship anyway. While Lobelia’s wards were down, Grandpa could’ve easily found me in that castle. I shudder to think he might have been watching while Lobelia and I were...
“Is that so?” Grandpa replies.
He sets his untouched tea aside and takes up his pipe, spending a long time to ignite a flame and hold it to the bowl. The familiar, comforting scent of his tobacco fills the room again and he exhales a cloud of smoke in Lobelia’s direction.
I brace for the reaction but Lobelia only smiles. It isn’t the smile he wore to show off whenever that angel would visit us, but it isn’t innocent either. What am I saying? He’s a demon. Nothing he does is innocent. My legs have mostly stopped shaking but I don’t feel strong enough to stand. Instead I reach out and clutch a handful of Lobelia’s robes—a reversal of our behavior these past three months. It’s always been him clinging to me, but now I’m the one who needs strength.
“And just how did he come to release those stuck powers of his?” Grandpa asks.
“I was incapacitated,” Lobelia continues. “Lucil fought off an intruder single handedly.”
Grandpa doesn’t look convinced. “Lucil, fight someone?”
“Perhaps I should have said persuade. He was quite convincing.”
“I don’t see with that has to do with his powers.”
“It was an angel,” I manage to say, as though that explains anything, but I’m desperate to change the subject.
“Ahh, that one,” Grandpa says. “I sensed him out this way sniffing around and figured he’d come after you. So this foolish grandson of mine tried taking on an angel all by himself for the sake of a demon? Hmph. I’m surprised he made it out in one piece.”
“Oi!” I protest and Lobelia strokes the top of my head, probably remembering the blow from the angel’s sword that nearly split me in half. Grandpa has no idea how close he is to the truth and I fear his reaction if he finds out, what he might try to do to Lobelia even if he can’t really harm him. Please, I ask the spirits. Please don’t make me choose between them.
Unruffled by my grandfather’s callousness, Lobelia smiles down at me as he continues to weave an embellished version of events. The look in his eyes is warm like sunlight.
“The angel was surprised as well,” he says.
“But not you, eh?”
“I knew he was powerful when I chose him. I was so charmed by his performance that I gave him my true name.”
With the back of his hand, Lobelia strokes my cheek.
“So that’s it. You seduced my boy into revealing his own true name, eh?”
“He gave it willingly.”
Grandpa blew another cloud of smoke our way. “And what do you plan on doing with him now that your catastrophe has been avoided? If you’re thinking of devouring us, you’ve got another thing coming. You may be powerful, but I’ve got the forest behind me. You won’t get my name.”
“He would be delicious,” Lobelia says. “But it would be a shame to eat someone I’ve grown so fond of.”
Grandpa snorts. “Fond. What does that even mean to your kind? You demons are all about instinct.”
I struggle to my feet. I won’t listen to this anymore. Grandpa doesn’t know Lobelia, so of course he’s right to be wary of his intentions. Any good sorcerer would be. But Grandpa knows me. It’s his lack of faith in my decisions that hurts more than anything. Between the tea and smoke and the exhaustion from a long journey, my head is spinning.
“Enough. Let’s go, Lobelia.”
If we stay any longer, I may say something I don’t mean.
To my grandfather I say, “We’re going to take a room in town. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Lobelia gives me a quizzical expression, as if to ask if I’d be comfortable staying so close to the humans that burned this forest. To be honest, I don’t want to be anywhere near those people, but with Lobelia beside me, no harm will come to either of us. And I am going to need a good night of sleep once we leave here.
Grandpa taps his pipe against his lips. “The spirits tell me it’s going to snow heavily in a few hours. Your room should be as it was. Go and rest for a while, the both of you, while I get dinner started.”
I don’t understand. Grandpa doesn’t trust Lobelia, so why would he invite us to stay? Could he be working with the angel, the one that wanted to exorcize Lobelia’s soul? No, that’s impossible. I don’t want to believe my grandfather is capable of that kind of betrayal. If he wanted me to leave Lobelia, he’d say it outright.
Then…is he giving him a chance? A little of my frustration eases and I look at Lobelia directly.
“Is that alright?”
He grants me a magnanimous smile and takes my hand.
“I assume yours is the one where Cari is resting.”
Still a bit confused, I nod and let Lobelia guide me to my own room.
If I hadn’t seen it burn with my own eyes, I would never guess this room has been rebuilt. Everything is the way I remember it: the shelf of crystals and stones I’ve collected since I could toddle through the woods; an uneven, rumpled quilt my mother hand stitched; the squashed pillow against the window that Carbo claims as his bed. It feels strange allowing Lobelia into this space, as though I’m allowing him inside of my head. We can barely fit in the room, the two of us. I’m already undressing so that I can lie down, while Lobelia is standing still, his eyes sweeping over the details of the room.
“It’s nothing special,” I mutter as I pull back the quilt. Lobelia stretches out beside me, though he remains above the covers, and cradles my face with a hand.
“On the contrary.” He kisses my lips and I shiver, aware of my grandfather on the other side of the door, but Lobelia doesn’t push for anything more, only rests his head beside mine and motions around the room. “I would have loved to grow up here.”
The forest is young compared to him. Who knows what this area looked like back when he was a child? It’s easy to forget the difference in our ages, but he spans centuries compared to my two decades. Maybe Grandpa is right to ask what Lobelia gains from our covenant. I try to imagine the weeping child from my dreams in this room, sitting on the bed beside a child version of me, the ugly sorcerer doll between us.
I press my face against Lobelia’s shoulder.
“The bathtub isn’t large enough for you.”
He chuckles and strokes my hair. “I was smaller as a child.”
“If we’d grown up together, I’d be long dead by now.”
I say it matter-of-factly. There’s no point in pretending we don’t have a chasm between us. It doesn’t upset me to think about my own end. My spirit will join others in the realm like the sorcerers before me, like my parents. But it does make me sad to imagine Lobelia left behind. I huddle closer to him, exhaustion chasing me.
He’s still petting my hair when I wake a while later to the scent of Grandpa’s stew. The bed is so cramped with the two of us on it that Lobelia is lying along the edge.
“Your grandfather looked in on us a few minutes ago. Dinner is cooking.”
Lobelia’s robes are warm and rich with the sweet scent he emanates. I hide my face in the folds.
“I don’t want to go back out there.”
“After all those weeks of trying to find your grandfather, you would really avoid him because of his opinion of me? You’re a good boy, Lucil, but I can’t allow that.”
“He’s never spoken to me like that.”
I sigh as he brushes the hair back from my forehead.
“My relationship with my adoptive father was quite different, so I can’t say that I understand, but isn’t he only speaking to you this way because he cares?”
I know he’s right, of course. Grandpa is showing his concern, and why wouldn’t he, when his grandson has brought home a demon? Only three months ago, I was the one who didn’t trust Lobelia. Even if it feels longer, I wasn’t gone half the year. To become so devoted to someone in that time, especially since I have rarely allowed people close to me, must make Grandpa worry about Lobelia’s influence. I know that I don’t have much in terms of worldly experience, but I’m grown. This is my decision. So how do I make my grandfather understand?
Lobelia kisses my cheek. “You rest for a while longer.”
“Huh? What about you?”
“I’m going to ask if your grandfather would like assistance.”
He rises from the bed and pats Carbo. My familiar stretches from his pillow and hops into Lobelia’s arms. They leave me alone in the bedroom.
I drift in and out for a while. Although I’m exhausted from traveling, I can’t get back to sleep when I remember who is in the next room together. After tossing and turning for most of an hour, I drag myself up and dress in a cloak from my wardrobe, one that isn’t full of holes from the fire. My hat and staff, I leave behind.
Lobelia is sitting beside the fire with Carbo on his lap, stroking his fur. The cat is purring.
“Stir the fire since you’re sitting there,” Grandpa says. He’s setting spoons on our table. Lobelia sends a red flame into the fireplace and the wood crackles in response.
“Is that better?” Lobelia asks.
“Just fine, thank you. Is Lucil up yet?”
Lobelia sees me emerging from the bedroom and faintly smiles. “All rested?”
I nod, averting my eyes for some reason, and cross my arms. “Grandpa, do you need any help?”
“Lobelia’s helping. You just sit down and I’ll bring you a bowl.”
Hesitantly, I sit in my old place against the wall. Grandpa has made my favorite potato stew. I never imagined that I would taste it again. It’s not until Lobelia is at my side and holding a cloth to my eyes that I realize I’m crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “Shall I leave you here with your grandfather for a few days?”
I shake my head. Even though I know nothing will happen, I’m not ready to be apart from him. He must sense it, because he pulls out the chair beside me and settles close enough that I could lay my head on his shoulder if I wanted to.
From the fireplace where he’s stirring the cauldron, Grandpa watches us. He brings two bowls to the table and places them in front of Lobelia and me, then returns with one for himself. We eat for a while in silence. The stew is piping hot, thicker than I remember but just as hearty. Lobelia doesn’t need food but is eating his serving with an open expression. His shoulders are pressed back hard. He doesn’t like the flavor, but he’s pretending for my sake.
When I’ve only got a few chunks of potato left in the bottom of my bowl, Grandpa clears his throat.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter what I have to say. You’ve chosen this one. I wasn’t sure until I saw the way Cari interacts with him. First time he’s warmed up to someone other than you.”
I’m uncertain if I should say anything, so I just nod. Realizing we’re talking about him, Carbo darts toward Lobelia’s legs to parade a serpentine around them. Grandpa watches him with a thoughtful expression.
“Can’t argue with a cat,” he says.
I swallow the stew in my mouth without really tasting it. Did I hear him right? Did Grandpa just accept our relationship because of Carbo?
“Indeed, you can’t,” Lobelia agrees and scoops the cat into his arms. Carbo meows and hides his face.
“Hang on,” I say and lay down my spoon. I look Grandpa dead in the eye. “What was all that earlier?”
In response, Grandpa gives a little shrug and wipes the bottom of his bowl with a crust of bread.
“First time you’ve ever brought someone home. Had to make certain you were serious about it. And he is a demon. You can never be too careful. I’m sure Lobelia understands that.”
As Lobelia nods sagely, I close my eyes and sigh. I have a bad feeling these two are going to gang up on me from now on, but I can’t bring myself to mind. Having them together in this place is already more than I could have asked for.
“You look like you could do with another helping, young man,” Grandpa says to Lobelia, who plays along and offers up his bowl. Since Lobelia never had a family of his own, he seems to be eating up the attention.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” he says but without any of the usual arrogance. The gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, like a child receiving solstice gifts. All this time I’ve been worried I had nothing to offer him when the most important thing was so simple.
Grandpa brings him another bowl. Over stew, he quizzes Lobelia about the extent of my new magic. Beyond the windows, the snow is coming down so thick I’ll be surprised if we can get the door open in the morning, but knowing Grandpa, he’s got enough food stashed in the root cellar to last until the spring thaw. Tucked in Lobelia’s arms, the same arms that will hold me as we huddle in my too-small bed once the fire is down to embers, Carbo is purring.