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The face that greets Zeinys at the door is a familiar one - the first face he ever saw in the Neath, the golden eyes carrying a gleam that is both a tantalizing reminder of what he left behind and a perpetual warning that in the Neath, life and death are very, very different.
Generally, Zeinys does not deal (lowercase) with devils, not the way his paramour does, certainly. Perhaps it is some remnant of his faith's superstition to not meddle with dybbuks, but Zeinys attributes it to his scientific mind. Devils deal in emotions, in impulse and desperation. Science deals in what can be proven through observation, repetition, and rationale.
This particular devil was unlucky when he landed in New Newgate Prison all that time ago, and yet very lucky indeed to have met a man who took him with when he broke out. Zeinys had expected that the Unlucky Devil might one day return. As he looks at the creature on his doorstep, dressed sharply, he knows his choice is the asme as before — he could leave the devil behind, close the door.
But the same mercy still lives in him, has not been stamped out by the Neath.
"Come in off the street, then, heymish." Zeinys says, stepping aside and gesturing for the Unlucky Devil to come in.
"Much obliged, my lord." The devil returns politely as he comes over the threshold.
The Unlucky Devil takes a seat and Zeinys puts the kettle on, posthaste. When the tea is in front of them, Zeinys sits and listens to the Unlucky Devil's sob story. He is, as so many are and by design, finding himself ont he wrong side of the Brass Embassy. Another would have to pay a much higher price to rectify that, but the Unlucky Devil merely needs a meeting with the right middle managers. A meeting he himself cannot arrange, unfortunately, as he is currently unwelcome on Moloch Street.
"I know I owe you already." The Unlucky Devil admits. "But as you helped me before, I thought perhaps you would again."
"I have never met a devil so eager to become indebted." Zeinys muses. It did not matter that he largely only met devils in passing, and his experience was miminal.
"I find myself in unfavorable circumstances. Desperate times call for desperate measures." The devil's smile is more of a grimace.
"I see." Zeinys twirls one of his red curls around his finger, lets it sprin free, then twists it again. "Our acquaintance aside, I do not often mingle with devils. It will take time for me to accumulate contacts and favors in the right places."
Despite it being somewhat poor news, the Unlucky Devil perks up like Lady Locke's particular plant after eating a sack full of rats. "But you'll help?"
"I will. And I will not even ask for your soul in return."
The devil laughs, but it is a nervous thing.
Zeinys invites the Unlucky Devil to remain in his flat for the time being while Zeinys works on organizing the promised meeting. At his writing desk, Zeinys scribbles out three quick notes.
My sweet Locke,
I have found myself engaged with a job, of sorts — a favor, truly — for a devil, of all things. I am aware you have much greater experience with matters of Hell than I, but I am seeking inroads now. Might you have a contact you recommend? I shall not trouble you, my dear, to spend all your goodwill on my behalf, but should you be able to give me any assistance, it would be most appreciated.
Yours,
Zeinys
Captain Remarke,
I hope this message finds you well and returned whole from your latest voyage. I am seeking to make a contact at the Brass Embassy. Any door opened would aid me greatly, should you have a favor to spare.
Also, perhaps Dante's next week?
Sincerely,
Zeinys Cain
K. Levelock,
I find myself engaged in a matter requiring a network of underworld contacts I do not currently possess, and in need of skills I know you have. Might you find yourself free and willing to assist me? I would most certainly be in your debt.
M. Zeinys
Zeinys steps out onto the street with the three sealed envelopes and whistles an alert to an urchin on a nearby rooftoop. The boy shimmies and scrambles down the building's facade and sidles up next to Zeinys, looking up at him.
"Sumthing I can help with?" He asks cheerily.
Zeinys gives the boy a coin and the notes. "Keep the change, thank you."
"Right away, milord!" The boy checks the address scrawled on the first envelope, then shoves letters and coin away into his grubby coat before promptly vanishing into the nearest alleyway. Zeinys turns back and goes inside just long enough to grab a few things, putting on his kippah, top hat, and coat, and leaving a note for where he'll be should return missives come.
"I'll be back later." He informs his temporary guest. "Do not disturb the rat traps."
Mrs Plenty's Carnival is perhaps Zeinys' least favorite place in the Neath. It is not out of any malice towards the woman herself or some puritan view towards amusement, but there are mirror-shards perpetually rooted in Zeinys' heart that cannot be removed. He has avoided the carnival rounds ever since. But there is no other place in London where it is so easy to rub shoulders with those from all walks of life, and make introductions that can turn to favors, that can turn into being known in social circles. It is what Zeinys needs, even if it not what he wants.
It takes the better part of a week running around half of London with the various help of Locke, Rita Remarke, and K. Levelock to do what he sets out to. Zeinys gets his metaphorical claws into every devil he can find at Mrs Plenty's and strings them along through salons, honey dens, university lectures, religious services, and more. He keeps copious amounts of notes, the papers falling from his coat at all times, lists of engagements and to remember just who and what each devil is and does. Some are higher up than others; all want his soul, the one thing Zeinys is steadfast he will not part with. No devil shall convince him otherwise, but he does not let them know that too soon. They must first be made curious, a litle impressed, and have been pulled alon just long enough that walking away without asking why would be unfilling at best and shameful at worst.
Some are more intrigued by what Zeinys speaks of than others. He does not mention the Unlucky Devil by name lest the man's troubles rub off on Zeinys himself. But while Zeinys is a momentary novel delight, he is far from the first Londoner to try and work his way up the chain of command. They help him, answer questions, tell him where to find another of their kind. More often than not, they leave with a smile and a word to find them if there is ever something he needs that they can provide.
On a Sunday evening, Zeinys informs the Unlucky Devil that the proceedings are set for the following day.
"I understand that you have gone great lengths for me. I will not forget it." The Unlucky Devil says over supper.
"I keep my word. When morning comes, we will go to the Embassy."
When they wake in the morning, the streets of London are brimming with more disarray than usual. They walk towards Moloch Street — or they try, as it soons becomes apparent that something is not right. The word spreads fast: Hell is missing.
London's layout is wrong. The sky is wrong. Hell is gone and the Neath has gone rogue in its absence. Time and space are bent out of shape and by the time (figuratively) Zeinys works it out enough to know when/where he is, he's lost track of the Unlucky Devil. Zeinys chooses to trust that a devil can take care of itself, as he has much larger problems now.
The word is that a messenger from hell is set to arrive on Tuesday. It is unclear how they are coming, but Zeinys is unsure what else they can do but wait. When London wakes up, it is Monday morning again, and Hell is still missing.
Zeinys, Captain Rita Remarke, Lady Locke and K. Levelock stand on the Moloch Street train platform. There are no trains, as there is no Hell from which they can come.
"We will simply have to make it Tuesday." Rita says with resolve, as if this were the simplest thing possible. She has been in the Neath longer than all of them and possibly knows the most of its workings, but that does not mean she knows how to do this thing.
"Easier said than done." K. Levelock returns mildly.
"Order can be restored. It is currently amok in the streets, but these are laws that can be hunted." Locke hums.
The monster-hunting Zee captain smiles a very dangerous smile. It makes a shiver run down Zeinys' spine. "Hunted, pinned down, and made to behave or die." Rita grins.
"And then, perhaps," Zeinys hurries the conversation along. He is exhausted and it is only Monday, again. "The messenger may arrive, and tell us more information with which we can work."
They do not make it to Tuesday all at once, but they do make it. Captain Remarke is invariably first.
A nondescript devil with those same gold eyes walks down the tracks from a tunnel that once led to Hell on Tuesday morning. Though Zeinys is quite tired of devils, he still offers a hand to help the man up onto the platform. He introduces himself as Milton, and announces there is very much to be done.
Three days or something that might pass for it go by, filled with hunting rogue laws and stoking a furnace in the bowels of the Brass Embassy. Something happens with the weather that Zeinys does not quite parse but K. Levelock insists the problem was solved by them eating it. Zeinys does not ask. Captain Remarke comes in off the street from her hunting rarely, and the glow from the furnace reflects in her eyes in a way that Zeinys thinks will serve to be categorized later. Locke plays middleman between Milton, the Bishop, and the interests of London. Zeinys could almost think this is a new form of normal — almost being the operative word — when another day passesand Zeinys wakes up in a cold cell, looking into a familiar face with gold gleaming eyes, the first face he ever saw in the Neath.
Zeinys shoots up, manacles on his arms and legs clattering, grasping at the Unlucky Devil's arm.
"This has already happened." Zeinys tells the devil insistently and immediately.
The Unlucky Devil blinks. "Ah. At least it isn't only me."
They escape (again), made much easier after Zeinys is able to convince himself of the manacles' unreality.
"You've been to the Law Furnace." The Unlucky Devil notes when they are back out on the streets.
"I am trying to aid in fixing things, and averting disaster."
"I thought you weren't a friend to devils." The Unlucky Devil says with a smile.
"I am quite interested in London's survival, and it appears London and Hell do truly need each other." Zeinys answers.
The next day, Zeinys wakes up in a cold cell looking into a familiar face with gold gleaming eyes, the first face he ever saw in the Neath.
"Damn this." Zeinys says first, to the Unlucky Devil's deep confusion. "I do not have time for this, I have work to do."
Zeinys grabs the devil by the lapels and drags him behind as he all but storms out of New Newgate.
It is an odd thing, to stand between two devils as all of it is finally resolved and London is saved.
"Milton," Zeinys remember suddenly. "Might I introduce my … friend." He gestures at the Unlucky Devil, and both golden-eyed devils smile.
Zeinys shares his flask and a prayer with the Bishop before turns to go. The Unlucky Devil calls to him.
"I have not forgotten what I owe you."
"Indeed. Do me one favor, then." Zeinys responds. He can only think of sleep. "Do not come too soon."
The Unlucky Devil offers his hand to shake and Zeinys takes it.
"I can do that, Master Zeinys."
Lady Locke is waiting at the edge of the square. Zeinys takes his hand and gently kisses it as he reaches him.
"I did not think I would see the day where you would truly entangle yourself with Hell." Locke remarks, slipping his arm into Zeinys' as they begin down the street, Zeinys leaning a little more heavily on his cane than usual.
"And for the sake of London, let is not come again." Zeinys sighs.
"You seemed rather friendly with that one."
"I met him before, and now he owes me."
"That is what is good about devils." Locke says with a smile. "They will always make good on their debts, and they will pay well."
"Is that why you are so intimate with Hell, my dear?" Zeinys asks.
"For the benefits? Naturally." On the next street over, Locke pulls away for a moment, saying, "Let me hail a cab." London's clockwork is clearly back to normal, as it is easy enough to do. Stepping up to it, Zeinys asks,
"Would you like to join me?"
Locke smiles. "I do believe my night is free." He offers a steadying hand as Zeinys climbs into the hansom cab, and Zeinys pulls Locke up after. As the horse begins down the busy road, the two of them sit back together beneath the not-stars, in a London that is just as it is meant to be.