Air Apparent (32 page)

“The irony is that neither angels nor demons need to drink,” the demon said.

“Not water, anyway,” the angel said.

“She drinks nectar and eats ambrosia,” he said.

“He drinks strong spirits and eats devilsfood.”

“We had been arguing about lifestyles,” Beauregard said. “Our feet touched the edge of the spring. Then things changed.”

“Now we hardly care where we exist,” Angela said. “So long as we are together.”

“So we’re making ourselves useful while we sort this out,” the demon said.

“While we try to convert each other,” she concluded.

“This interests me,” Sim said. Actually everything interested him, but he didn’t find it necessary to clarify that. “I am not completely conversant with human mythology, but aren’t angels and demons fundamentally incompatible?”

“We thought so,” Beauregard said. He kissed Angela.

“It is our understanding,” Angela agreed, kissing him back.

“But there’s just something so softly feminine about her,” the demon said, stroking a softly feminine curve.

“And something so naughtily masculine about him,” the angel said, pressing herself against a naughtily masculine ridge.

“I am amazed by the variety of things we are finding on these chained worlds,” Sim remarked. “An angel/demon romance. On Motes there were man-shaped coprolites.”

Beauregard looked really interested. Angela swooned.

“Coprolite,” Sim repeated carefully. “Fossilized animal manure. Not copulate.”

“Oh,” the demon said, losing interest. “Of course. I misheard.”

Angela recovered. “Naturally I don’t know either word. Angels would never do anything like that.”

“Not unless they convert and come to H*ll.”

“But if a demon converts and comes to Heaven, he’ll be free of that sort of ugliness.”

It was evidently that neither had succeeded in converting the other yet. “Do you have plans for the future?” Sim asked.

“Oh, yes,” Angela said. “We’ll have a sweet little girl with a gentle song.”

“Or a shapeshifting boy with big ambitions,” Beauregard said.

They were still at odds. Sim wondered how they would work it out. He remembered references to one Demon Beauregard, a friend of Magician Humfrey, who had been around for eons. But of course both angels and demons were pretty much eternal. In that respect, at least, they were a fair match.

“It is time for the tour,” Angela said. She lifted one fair hand, and the pearly gates opened. “Behold: Heaven.” There was a trumpet fanfare.

Beyond was a wonderland of opalescent clouds with nacreous fringes. Or, in ordinary language, opal-colored with pearly edges. Perched on them were winged humans garbed in white robes, holding harps, singing musical hosannahs. It was all quite lovely.

“This is it?” Wira asked.

“Yes,” Angela said. “Isn’t it wonderful? We spend eternity in this perfect delight.”

“There is no stork summoning?” Hugo asked.

“Heavens no! Nothing like that.”

“What about games of nimbi?” Nimbus asked.

“Games are decadent; we don’t play any.”

“Kissing?” Ilene asked.

“Of course not.” Angela glanced regretfully at Beauregard, who remained studiously silent. “It is suggestive of some base design. Not that I am capable of imagining any such thing.”

“It would take me about ten minutes to be thoroughly bored,” the Factor muttered.

“Boredom isn’t allowed. Everyone is simply divinely happy to be in this perfect place.”

“Perhaps it is time for us to tour the other realm,” Sim suggested.

They departed Heaven, whose shining gates clanked shut behind them. Now the demon came to life. “Hell has all the things H*ven lacks,” he said, leading them to a small bridge. “Do not misstep; the River Styx will not let you return if you touch it.”

They were careful. When they were across, a demoness appeared in a puff of smoke. Her scanty red costume barely covered her evocative torso. “Fresh meat, Beau?” she inquired saucily.

“Visitors taking the tour,” Beauregard replied. He turned to face the group. “This is Demoness Lusion, who likes to fascinate visitors. She is about to depart.”

“The hell I am, boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend. We were through—”

“The moment you dipped your toe in that blessed love spring,” Lusion said bitterly. “I don’t accept that. She tricked you.”

“I did not!” Angela protested. “We don’t practice subterfuge.”

“In contrast to your machinations,” Beauregard told Lusion. “That love spring opened my eyes to your nature. Now let me conduct my tour in peace.”

D. Lusion formed a smoky smile. It was plain that she was jealous and unscrupulous. Sim knew that was mischief, but wasn’t sure how to stop it.

Lusion oriented first on the men. “So did they show you anything like this in H*ven?” She struck a pose that threatened to burst a button in front and a zipper in back.

The eyeballs of the adult males began to sweat, and those of young Nimbus warmed. Even Sim’s avian eyeballs widened in guilty appreciation. It was some pose.

“Talk of overstuffed sausages,” Angela murmured.

“Nothing like that, Lusion,” Beauregard said. He faced the group. “Her point being that Hell is much more into temptation than H*ven is.”

“I have not yet begun to tempt,” Lusion said. “Ladies, look at this.” There was a groan behind her. It was from a table so overloaded with pastries and drinks that its legs were paining it. “Every cake is sinfully sweeter than the others, and every drink will send you rapturously floating. Here in Hell you can feast continuously.”

Now it was the eyeballs of Wira and Debra that sweated, while those of the children had entirely locked into place. Sim moved between them and the table, spreading his wings to interrupt their gazes. They recovered their vision, somewhat guiltily.

“And horribly fattening,” Angela said.

Meanwhile the smoky gaze of the demoness oriented on Sim. “So you think you’re immune, featherbrain?” She became the most beautiful bird-of-paradise. Sim was stunned.

“How come that bird can show up in Hell?” Ilene demanded querulously.

“It’s a delusion,” Angela explained. “She’s faking it.”

“You stay out of this, angel face!” Lusion snapped. “Or I’ll give Beau what you can’t, like this.” She resumed the form of the supremely sexy woman, this time with translucent clothing. “And that will be no fake.” She advanced on him, jiggling dangerously.

“Forget it, Lusion,” Beauregard said. “I love her, and you can’t change that.”

“Well, I don’t see her joining you in Hell.” Lusion turned to Angela. “How about it, frigid virgin? Care to show your heavenly undies here?”

Angela quailed. “You uncouth, horrible creature!”

Lusion formed a smile that threatened to burn her teeth. “It’s a fair question, Beau. If you really want to have a family, you will have to summon the stork with her. She’s going to have to bare her pristine panties sometime. It’s not going to happen in H*ven. You know that.”

That shut Beauregard up. He did know it.

“I’ll even put it to the visitors,” the demoness continued. “Am I right?”

“This is Hell,” Wira said. “We don’t want to side with the evil-spirited demoness.”

“But we have to,” Debra said. “She’s hellishly correct.”

The two men reluctantly nodded.

“It is true,” Sim said. “By your human conventions, the route to the storks passes through the panties.” That, unfortunately, was all he knew about it. He was still technically a child, and bound to ignorance by the dread Adult Conspiracy. That really annoyed him. What supreme secret did those human panties conceal?

Angela burst into tears. They sparkled like blessed little stars.

“You utter—” Beauregard started.

“Female dog?” Lusion inquired, becoming one. “Better that, than a sterile doll.”

Beauregard focused on her. Two jags of lightning stabbed out of his eyes. They struck the demoness on the face and chest. She puffed into a noxious cloud, her shapely legs dissolving last. Sim knew that Lusion wasn’t really hurt; the demon had simply banished her for the moment.

Beauregard turned to embrace Angela. “I’m sorry, beloved. She’s a creature of Hell. You can’t silence her.”

“Yes I can,” Angela said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll bare my—my—”

“Don’t let her taunting get to you,” he said. “She’s just jealous of your heavenly status, and wants to bring you down.”

“But she’s right,” Angela said. “I love you, and I know your nature. I can never satisfy you as an angel.”

“I love you regardless.”

“And I love you. Now I’m going to prove it.” She reached for her skirt.

“Are we satisfied that neither realm is suitable for us?” Sim asked quickly.

“Yes,” the four adults said in chorus.

“Farewell, Angela, Beauregard,” Ilene called. “Thank you for the tour.”

The angel and the demon didn’t notice. They were embarking on the next level of their relationship, and had tuned out the rest of the universe. Sim hoped it worked out well, but wasn’t sure how it felt to be a fallen angel. Yet at least she had the courage to do what she had to do, and that might augur well for the future.

They formed their formation of eight and transferred out.

“Aww,” Nimbus said. “They were going to make a scene.”

“She was going to show her panties,” Fray said. “You know you’re not allowed to see that.”

“Mice!” he swore rebelliously. Sim saw Wira and Debra exchanging a glance. Nimbus was a typical boy.

Meanwhile the others were gazing at the new world. This one seemed to be in the form of a giant tree, and was covered with forests. “Obviously the World of Tree,” Sim said. “This may be a prospect.”

“I wonder what the demons of Hell will think of a collection of small trees,” the Factor remarked. “Or perhaps acorns.” Because that was what they must have exchanged with.

They explored the local environment. There seemed to be no animals, but there were insects, especially bees. Flowering trees liked bees, so that made sense.

“This is really nice,” Ilene breathed. “Don’t you think so, Sim?”

She was engaging him in dialogue, making him constantly aware of her. He recognized the syndrome, and was powerless against it. Had they both been older, she would have conquered him on Cone, the crossbreed planet, except that one of them was not a sea creature.

“I wonder,” Hugo said. “If we are locked into an endless journey from which we can never return, we might be foolish to give up a world like this. It would be a gamble to seek a better one farther along.”

“And we might find one like Hell, with nasty demonesses to fascinate you,” Wira said. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“Of course we wouldn’t,” he agreed, the pupils of his eyes forming momentarily into evocative demoness shapes.

“So we need to do some serious thinking,” Debra said. “I believe I could accept this world, if it is as it seems.”

There, of course, was the question. Was this world really as peaceful and pleasant as it appeared?

“I’m hungry,” Nimbus said. “I want a pie tree.”

The Factor conjured a luscious chocolate cherry. “Try this.”

The boy eyed it. “Will it explode in my face?”

“No. This is an edible cherry.”

“Mice!” he said, disappointed. But he accepted the cherry, which looked absolutely delicious.

“Conjure me an air potato, please,” Fray said.

The Factor did. She took it and joined the boy under a giant acorn tree, chewing on its vapory substance.

“I believe we could all use a rest,” Wira said. “It has been a challenging excursion.”

The others agreed. They went to join the children under the tree. Hugo sat down and leaned his back against the trunk, and Wira sat on his lap and kissed him. Debra folded her four legs under her so that her human portion was no higher than the Factor stood, and soon was giving him a double-breasted braless smooch. They might all be tired, but they had special ways of resting in mind.

“I will look around,” Sim said, feeling slightly awkward.

“I will join you,” Ilene said.

Sim saw another of those subtle glances pass between Wira and Debra. They were well aware of the girl’s quest, and perhaps approved.

“Of course,” he agreed, not at all loath.

He took her on his back and spread his wings, flying around and up. Then he remembered: “You didn’t get lightened.”

“I have the illusion of lightness,” she said.

So she had made the illusion real. “You have more of a talent than I judged,” he said appreciatively.

“I am still learning to use it.” She was back in her semblance of maturity. He could feel the shapeliness of her body in contact with his.

A daring idea occurred to him. “When you make your illusion of being older real, does that include the Adult Conspiracy?”

“Why, I hadn’t thought about it,” she said, surprised. Then, after a startled pause: “Oh, my! So that’s how they signal the stork! I never would have thought of doing that particular thing.”

“What thing is that?”

“Well, a man and a woman get together, and—you’re twelve, aren’t you? I can’t tell you.”

Bleep. Sim had learned an extraordinary amount about Xanth and the universe, but not that particular thing. He was most curious, but it seemed she had inherited the Conspiracy along with the adulthood. Still, maybe he could gain peripheral information. “Is it feasible between a bird and a human?”

“Oh, yes. In fact you don’t even need an accommodation spell. It’s just a matter of—” She kicked his side with a well-fleshed leg. “You tried to trick me! That wasn’t nice.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, though in truth he was more frustrated than sorry.

“However,” she murmured, “if you ever achieve the illusion of maturity, I might make that real and then show you some interesting things.”

How he wished he could achieve that illusion, if only long enough to learn the secret! But he saw no way. The Conspiracy was immutable.

They were now high above the forest. The trees extended everywhere. They had landed on the crown of the planetary tree, and its furry surface was solid forest. Except for one spot, or line. “What is that?” he asked.

She peered down. “It looks like a cultivated path leading to a special glade with a domed hothouse.”