12.9

After Zyrdicia finished with the newspaper interview, she sent a messenger to fetch Charles and bring him to her at the beach house she owned one Lyr's south coast, near the lagoon. She had not been to the house in over a year. She often forgot she owned it.

"I'm SO glad you rescued me from listening to Magnus, the Guildmaster of Egos, go on about that damned article. I'm ready to smack him."

"Jealous? He looked fabulous, and you know it!" she teased.

"I did the hair," Charles grinned. "Getting him to wear it down wasn't easy. The damned boys-with-pony-tail look is so in right now here. And if you tell him I admitted he looked good, I will claim you are lying, I swear!" He went to work pampering her.

"I need your help," she said as he worked.

"I know you do, honey. That's what I'm doing."

"No. I need to know something from your world."

"What do you need to know?"

"Remember that story, the one about the birth of the dead god whose blood the cult members drink every week?" she prompted.

"That's a weird way to describe it. You are talking about the crucified guy, right?"

"Exactly. I need to know how the magic worked that virgin used to impregnate herself."

Charles looked confused and said, "She didn't do it. God did it."

"Did the god rape her?"

"Some dykes I know would probably say yes, and point to it as an example of breeder politics."

"Whatever. Then I need to know how that magic works then."

"It's all about him saying 'Let there be baby!' and Boom! There it was," Charles explained, punctuating the 'boom' with a loud snap of his fingers.

"Perfect. How did he do it?"

"I stopped going to Sunday school when I was eight. How should I know?"

"I re-read the cult's holy book last night. There is nothing in the story about how the magic works. It is utterly useless. They must have other secret tomes where they keep the spell lore." She thought a while, then said, "We have to go back there. We have to find someone knowledgeable about the cult's magic. A high priest, for example."

"You want to go talk to the Pope? Oh, baby, I can't wait to go tell Anthony. 'Scuse me, Your Holiness! How did God get Mary pregnant?'" Charles giggled. "Why do you care?"

"I need to breed."

Charles looked at her, unsure whether she was joking. The earnestness of her expression told him that she was not. "Can't you just get a puppy?" he asked.

"I wish."

"Honey, if that's what you want, it's more a question for that nasty-old Krankstoff than for me or the Pope. You don't need God - you need a test tube."

They left the beach house and walked to Krankstoff's laboratory, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen by passers-by. She did not want to have to deal with anyone tonight, but the fresh night air felt wonderful. It had rained earlier in the evening and smelled delightful. She did not bother to knock on the door when they arrived. She always let herself in.

Listening, she realized that he was not alone. She heard another voice down in the lab with him. She entered quietly, tugging Charles along behind her. She heard him gasp as he recognized the visitor.

"The toxin was absolutely brilliant. Half a vial in the bath water was enough to kill him. It paralyzed him very quickly. He suffocated in just a few minutes. I've never seen any contact poison like it. You could put the chemists out of business!" Magnus commented.

Krankstoff bowed at the compliment. He remarked, "It's such a simple little organism, botulism. The substance it produces though is one of nature's marvels. Zyrdicia once used it to poison a water supply, killing an entire city. So few people appreciate it. I am pleased it served your purposes."

"I want more."

"Certainly."

Zyrdicia cleared her throat. "Moonlighting, Professor?" she smiled thinly. "I feel so jilted."

"Hardly. I like to see my work go to good use."

Magnus explained, "He overheard me berating Cirus, the chemist, about the lousy formulation of the contact poison he sells now. Dr. Krankstoff suggested that I try a natural alternative. I should have known you were keeping the good stuff to yourself!"

Krankstoff added, "Since you were out of town, I was certain you would not mind, given that the Guildmaster is a friend, no?"

"Of course not," Zyrdicia answered.

Magnus moved to her to kiss her cheek. "What are you doing out?"

"I'm not staying at Philip's. Enough is enough. I can't stand it anymore. I don't need a sanitarium. I need to kill."

"I have to knock off a few businessmen in the Merchant District after I leave here. Come with me and we can see who else is on the way. Maybe take a side trip to Tiny Town?"

"You are sweet. I need to talk to the Professor for a few minutes, though. You are welcome to stay while I do." She turned to the aged scientist. "Charles tells me that you may know a thing or two about human breeding by magical means."

Krankstoff looked at Charles disparagingly.

Charles shook his head, "I did not say that! You have it all mixed up, honey. She wants to know how to have a baby without having sex."

"Multicelled organisms require fertilization. Were the organism in question single-celled, it would be another matter," the doctor answered sharply.

"Do you know anything about the process by which the virgin in the story could have gotten pregnant by the god in your world?"

Krankstoff stared at her over his spectacles, his lips pressed together. "I am a scientist, not a theologian. And the god was not worshipped in the place I came from. My home country eliminated that madness decades ago."

"Tell her about how the guys in white coats do it!" Charles prodded.

"I know little about that. I have never practiced medicine in that sense. Female issues were never a specialization I pursued."

"Tell me everything that you do know. Please. It's very important."

Krankstoff sighed in irritation. He found such subjects distasteful. He made a point of describing various methods he had read about in professional literature in considerable procedural detail, hoping to repulse her. Magnus and Charles both looked positively disgusted by his explanation, but Zyrdicia was unperturbed.

"So can you do it?"

"Of course not!" Krankstoff snapped. "I work with disease. I manipulate bacterial and viral DNA. I am not a gynecologist! I do not work to save human patients or cater to their whims!"

Zyrdicia looked at Charles, "I'm going to have Portia take you back to the City of Angels to find out everything you possibly can about this for me. I don't care whether you talk to the High Priest or the scientists or that god himself, but it's vital that you uncover the secret."

"What is this about?" Magnus asked carefully.

"I need to get pregnant in order to kill Zyr and Azriok and take control of Hell, of dark magic, and of the whole fucking cosmos. I have to find a way."

"Darling, let's take a walk back to Philip's house!" Magnus said gently, taking her hand.

"Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm insane and need to go see Philip to have him straighten out my head. I'm tired of listening to him."

"Then let's at least go somewhere and talk about this."

Krankstoff shook his head and rolled his eyes as they departed. He would never understand why the powerful folk of the world were always stark raving mad. He suspected that he was the only sane person on any plane, anywhere.

12.9.1

"You may be able to convince Philip that you are no longer suffering from Baal's influence, but you can't pull that crap on me," Magnus frowned.

"I'm fine!"

"Bullshit. We'll ignore the issue of your plan to get pregnant. We'll even ignore the your suicidal plan to take over the universe and become omnipotent. We will pretend that's all perfectly rational and healthy, for now."

"It is. What's your point?" Zyrdicia asked impatiently.

"You are hearing voices - something or someone is in your head."

"I have telepathic conversations with people all the time. You know that."

"They don't make you tense up and dig your fingernails into the palms of your hands," Magnus said. He turned one of her hands over and gestured to the deep grooves in her skin.

Zyrdicia yanked her hand away and scowled, "It's under control. I don't want to talk about it!"

"What do you hear?" he whispered, staring at her intently.

"Nothing."

"Something has gotten to you. I can see it. Since you've returned, there is no mirth in your eyes when you laugh."

"I'm fine. I keep telling you that. Why won't you believe me?"

"Because I know you," Magnus said gently.

"Then you should know when to leave me the fuck alone."

12.9.2

Baal's psychic attacks became more pronounced with each passing day. What had started as episodic flare-ups of attention from him become a nearly continuous presence in her mind. Nothing she tried succeeded in dislodging him. He whispered to her almost every waking moment, tormenting her with guilt, with pleas, with tales of Azriok's need for her. Her hatred of Zyr and Azriok quickly faded in contrast to her new antipathy for the Sephiroth who plagued her.

Any conversation she had now received only half her attention. The other half had to be devoted to trying to silence the ever-present litany from Baal. She knew that she had to deal with him - soon. Before she could pursue her plan to kill Azriok, she would have to rid herself of Baal's voice in her head. She could not stand it much longer. Confronting him in Tenaebra was out of the question right now - but she suspected she could do it in the Astral Plane. Killing him there would prevent him from extending his influence beyond Hell. The only problem was, unlike Azriok, she expected him to resist. She had seen how easily he disarmed her at the cliffs on Grand Kirilia. She would have to plan his confinement in Hell carefully.

Zyrdicia stopped sleeping. She was far too anxious to rest now. Her nerves were constantly on edge as her tormentor whispered to her. He was relentless.

Her first respite from him in several days came when she went dancing with her dragon in search of distraction. The rhythm of the movement in the air combined with the powerful tactile sensation of the grueling physical workout to overwhelm conscious thought. She did not have to think, or acknowledge the foreign presence in her mind. She could lose herself in her body's motion. That discovery proved pivotal, and gave her a little cause for hope.