Wayward Son

By Dabeagle

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Chapter 8

On Wednesday there was still no Gideon, and I'd had enough of letting him 'meditate' and skipped practice to go see him. Seth's mom had launched into her encounter with an angel and she almost led me to believe that Seth was a product of that. Either Seth was Niphilim or she was batshit. Maybe both were true.

My bag bounced off my leg as I walked, and I seriously began thinking about that job and car routine again. Unless Gideon could teach me to use shadows the way he did, it would have to happen. I turned down Burnside Terrace and barely glanced at the other houses and I walked steadily to the end. I rang the bell and waited only a few moments before Woolcott opened the door with a quizzical expression.

“You can understand my confusion, as I didn't order pizza, thus didn't expect the bell to ring.” He shot me a bright smile, “He's still meditating though, so you'll have to,” he grunted as I pushed past him.

“Nope, no more waiting, been patient enough.” I muttered as I left him at the door and headed towards Gideon's room.

“No. Stop. Wait.” He said with no enthusiasm.

I turned the corner and paused briefly before Gideon's door. I was going to knock, for civilities sake, but I figured maybe he would just have to deal with it. I pushed the door open and felt like I stepped into a Wizards workshop. Or at least his bedroom.

Gideon was sitting with his legs crossed, floating in the center of the room. He had on his sweats, but was stripped to the waist. Shadows trailed away from his head, floating gossamer threads that made it look like he had long, flowing hair. There was a loosely defined sphere of darkness around him, but within that shadows danced like nimbus clouds running across a sky. His skin was the background however, and with his back to me I could see two huge grooves slashed into his back.

The furrows melted away, then reformed as deep, burnt gashes in his back. Ever so slowly they faded from view, only to return but not as bad. I slowly approached him, wondering how it was possible he wasn't screaming in agony. He slowly turned in place, beads of sweat clinging atop his brow, running down his face along his neck and finally down his torso. If it wasn't so freaking weird, it would have been hot as hell. As it was weird, I'm almost ashamed to say, it was still hot.

His eyes were open, but not seeing anything. Shadows poured out, forming the ethereal darkness swirling around him. I stood in front of him, where is vacant gaze fell.

“Gideon? It's Daniel.” I looked into his face, into his dark swirling eyes where I could briefly see his dark brown eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination.

“He can't hear you, I wasn't kidding when I said he was meditating. I just didn't think it would take this long. Then again, Moloch hit him very hard.”

I circled around him, tearing my eyes from his chest and going behind, near Woolcott, and I gestured at Gideon's back. “He did that?”

“Oh yes. Moloch has one hand that is a split hoof, and that one dragged down his back as he was starting to travel. If he'd taken a moment longer to use his talent, Moloch would have had his hoof through his chest instead of severely denting his back.”

“Holy shit.” I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. “So what does meditating do for him?”

“The trance allows him to block the pain and perform self healing, a very handy gift from his father.”

“Aila said that too, who are Gideon's parents?” I asked as Woolcott steered me out of the room and back towards the front of the house.

“I never met his mother, but she is rumored to be a proud woman. She intended to raise a warrior, you know, thus Gideons' name.”

“I don't,” I began.

“I expected as much. Don't you google all your boyfriends names to see what they mean?”

“He's not,” I started again.

“If you say so, but back to my point. Well,” he waived a hand in the air, “The point about his name, not your deficiency in research. Gideon means 'hewer' or 'destroyer. His father, thank goodness, wisely spirited him away after discovering her true intentions.”

I gave him a quizzical look and he stepped up to the front door, snagging a few bills at the same time from the money bowl on the hall table.

“You're on time! Are the stars in alignment tonight?” he exclaimed to the poor delivery guy revealed by the open door. I'm pretty sure the guy called Woolcott a smart-ass. Maybe an asshole. Mutters are hard to understand.

“Lets eat while we wait for him shall we? We can chat and then you can go ogle him some more.” Woolcott said with a smirk.

“I wasn't!”

“But enough about your hedonism, lets talk about fallen angels.”

Woolcott's dining room table was festooned with paper plates and napkins galore. A pair of two liter soda bottles joined the tableau with accompanying glasses. He plopped the pizza boxes on the table, threw himself into a chair and smiled broadly at me.

“Is this,” I pointed at the table, “Another of your visions?”

“Heavens no,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “it's called dinner time.” He smiled and resumed speaking normally, “But once you showed up, ringing the doorbell, it put the thought in my head.”

“Pizza got here awfully quick for that.” I grunted.

“Yes, well, being a Sorcerer does have its advantages.” he sniffed and lifted the top of the first box.

“Like what, a spell to step back in time and order pizza?” I snorted as I took a seat.

“You can think of something more useful?” he peered at me and then bit into a slice without waiting for an answer. “So good,” he moaned, “Eat, while it's hot.”

My stomach grumbled and I realized I was hungry. I glanced at my cell and noted it was close to dinner time. I called home to let them know where I was, and that pizza was being offered. Once the parental units were satisfied, I slipped a piece on to a plate and began to eat, studying Woolcott.

“You don't look like a Sorcerer.” I commented.

“Really?” he stretched his arms out and took an exaggerated look at himself. “What does one look like?”

“You know, robe covered with stars and moons. Tall pointy hat. Wand?” I shrugged and finished my slice, and automatically reached for another.

“Well, that sounds more like a mage or wizard to me, or something you dress up as at Halloween. Sorcerers take a bit more doing.”

“Oh, more arcane crap that makes no sense? Go ahead, lay it on me.”

“Oh no, no. We mustn’t be sidetracked. We must increase your level of knowledge, as I am sure you have done so since we last conversed, and besides...you want to go back and stare at your boyfriend.”

“Okay, look. First off, he's not my boyfriend.” I held a finger up to forestall him.

“I realize he is lacking in social graces, but you do find him attractive, be honest.” He continued to eat like this was normal conversation.

“Because if that were to happen he'd have to, you know, be part of that decision.” He smirked and I blurted out, “And I would too. Being attractive doesn't automatically make you boyfriend material.”

“Ah, you want a relationship. He didn't mention you were a romantic.” He poured a glass of soda and emptied it in one continuous gulp, swallowing loudly. More loudly than I'd ever heard anyone swallow before.

“That was gross, and why do you enjoy needling me about Gideon?”

“Oh,oh now,” He adopted a stricken look, “It's not just you. I enjoy doing it to him too.”

“You're a dick.”

“Please, no insults, I'm feeding you,” He smiled and waved his hand, “besides, we have more to talk about than the trickles of sweat slowly moving down his wet torso.”

An image of Gideon's chest flashed in my head, and I admit I was somewhat loath to let it go. I only pushed it away because Woolcott was pissing me off.

“For instance?” I growled.

“Well, you can see from the damage he's taken, the type of situation he's in. His daily existence is always at risk, not just from the truly demonic, but also from the zealous light wielders.”

“Yeah, light and dark war, I got the Cliff's Notes.” I waved a hand at him.

“Oh, that's just the beginning. Tell me what you have learned so far, young Romeo.”

I snorted as I realized that made Gideon Juliet, but decided not to grin with him about it. Instead I decided to squeeze as much information out of Woolcott as I could and try to figure out what, if anything, I was going to do next. So I filled him in on what I'd learned from Aila and from Seth and Seth's take on the Angels and Demons being interchangeable thing.

“Interesting. Yes, good information you've gotten so far, intriguing. So! Lets see if we can uncover more information here, and the Light and Dark War is a good place to begin. Firstly,” he paused to wipe his mouth and then wave his arms menacingly, “It has been raging for ten thousand years!”

I sat quietly, unimpressed. “Aila said about one hundred thirty five years.”

“Fine, you really know how to ruin a good story, don't you?” He sniffed. “The war isn't so much a current event as it is a series of recurring events, in truth longer than one hundred thirty five years but perhaps well short of ten thousand. Neither side is what you'd call good or evil, more like two sides of the same ass, and once in a while they flare up like hemorrhoids.”

I cracked a smile.

“So they fight, and when it gets bad there are major disruptions in history. Like the Inquisition for example, conducted by the light. The Black Hole of Calcutta had the dark folks behind it. You get the idea.” He sighed, “War is ugly, and this one is no different, but a hell of a lot more dangerous.”

“Are you going to tell me why now?”

“Well, having more or less demigods throwing light and dark around like spit-wads is one thing, and for another...it looks like the Demons are strong enough to join the fray.”

“You said last time that Angels and Demons weren't that far apart.” I pointed out.

“I may have implied that, but the point I was trying to make was the role perception plays. For example, seeing Gideon's eyes probably scared the living daylights out of you. More so because it was dark, as opposed to light. We are conditioned that way because we see better in the day than the night. I was more opening a path for you to realize he's not the bad guy.”

“So who is, the light?” I grumbled.

“No, you silly lump! The light and the dark just are, they are people who fear each other. Their feuding only benefits one group, the one that feeds on fear and pain.”

“Demons?”

“Yes. Moloch was only the first, and things are farther along than anyone thought if he is touching the mortal world again.”

“I don't understand.”

“I know. We still have a lot to cover,” he pulled two slices onto a plate and waved his hand over it quickly. “Here, his meditation is breaking.” He leaned back, dismissing me with his posture.

I contemplated for a minute pushing him, since I hadn't really learned squat. I sighed, realizing I was in this war regardless. For my friends if nothing else. Aila was a bitch, but she was obviously true, and poor Joel maybe had to be protected most of all. I heard Aila telling me, in my head, that if Moloch had found Joel alone we simply wouldn't have seen him again. Of course, the thought occurred to me, what difference would I be able to make in a war?

Of course, there was Gideon too. Having sustained that injury a week and a half ago, it certainly went to why he hadn't shown up for lunch or school. I scooped up the plate and, as an afterthought, the soda and a cup before heading back to Gideon's room. I paused once more at the door, at once eager to see him bare to the waist and so, so afraid of that horrid tear on his back. Steeling myself I opened the door to find the shadows around him dimming, racing, and growing ever more insubstantial.

The tendrils around his head, so like long flowing hair, were whipping around wildly but they too were growing fainter by the heartbeat. The injury showed as a light bruise, and then was gone, reappearing lighter than before, then gone again. His hair was matted to his head, and his chest was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and, once again, I was enthralled and embarrassed. This seemed so forbidden, like spying on someone. His cross legged form slowly settled on the floor, the last few shadows fading to nothingness and his lids slowly closed, and then opened to show his warm brown eyes.

His gaze settled on me and his face gained a curious expression. I felt like I was a caught thief, stealing glances at his exposed flesh, and suavely spoke to hide my nervous state.

“If that's how you dress for a few slices, I wonder what happens if I bring in the whole pie?” I blurted. Oh so not what I wanted to say, so not what was in my head. How did my loins get control of my vocal chords?

He glanced down and frowned lightly, then a shiver ripped through him. It was unbelievably sexy, and I have never felt like such a freak.

“I'm a little cold, toss me a shirt? The dresser is right next to you.” He said without looking up. Oh, I embarrassed him. Stupid, he never said he was interested. Now he feels uncomfortable and of course I completely understand why I felt so creepy staring at him. While he was half naked. And sweaty. Ugh, freak!

“Sure,” I managed to squeak out. I set the plate and soda on his desk, and then went to his dresser. I opened the top drawer only to find socks and underwear, which I quickly closed, but not without noticing the boxer briefs inside. My god, why was I being such a pervert? The second drawer was filled with tee shirts, and I snagged one and backed towards him, holding out the shirt. I decided this was very clever because he couldn't see me blush and I couldn't see his nipples. Er chest, skin...him! Yeah, I couldn't see him.

“Uh, you can...look out!” and with a strangled noise, I tripped over him. Oh yeah, very clever Daniel, may as well capitalize that. I disentangled myself from him in a hurry, and then recalled the injury and began apologizing profusely, asking if he was all right.

Gideon burst out laughing, and pulled the tee shirt on, giggling all the while. His arms popped through, and then his head. As he pulled the shirt down over his abs he regarded me with an appraising look.

“So you saw the...uh...” he pointed at his back.

“Yeah, are you all right? I'm so fucking sorry,” I began to babble and he held a hand up. I stopped and felt the blood rushing to my face.

“I'm okay, Daniel. Little sore, kinda tired and very hungry. You said pizza?” he smiled and held a hand out to me. I tried to relax and grabbed his hand, helping him to his feet. He tottered for a second and leaned on me briefly, then righted himself and moved stiffly to his chair and sat. He took three big bites and chewed slowly, glancing at me and holding a finger up. Once he had demolished the first piece he belched loudly and leaned back for a moment, tapping his chest.

“I thought I was coming over for lunch, but to be honest I was kind of nervous about it,”he said, and then reached for his other slice.

I realized, when he said that, he had no idea how much time had passed. I figured we'd get to that, and went for the other half of his comment. “Why would you be nervous?” I sat on the edge of his bed, watching the skin move over his jaws as he ate ravenously. He popped the last bit of crust in his mouth and poured a half glass of soda to wash it down with be fore facing me.

“Well, I've never been asked to anyone's house before.”

“Say what?”

“I told you...talking to people, hanging out? It doesn't happen, so...I was a little nervous. I didn't know what to expect. You coming over with pizza like you read my mind was a big surprise. Wait,” He put a hand on the table and half pointed at me with his other hand, “You can't read minds can you?”

“Nope. All my latent superhero abilities have yet to manifest themselves,” I smiled.

“Doesn't that happen at puberty?” he smirked.

“Are you asking for proof I've gotten there?” I smiled. Inwardly I was cringing and wondering why I was acting like Joel instead of myself.

“Well...” his eyes sparkled for a second, then he shook himself and gave me a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry, whenever I do a healing like that I put out these, um, pheromones that, I guess, ramp up my...sensuality?”

“I hadn't noticed,” I replied as I realized I was now standing right in front of him, looking down into his deep brown eyes, wishing for nothing more than to drown in them.

“Thing,” he coughed as I encroached on his personal space. His hand gently held me in check, “Thing is, it would be a really bad idea to, you know, do anything about it.”

“Why is that?” I asked breathily, but with a tremor of doubt running through my mind.

“Because it's not really us, it's a … a chemical imbalance.” He muttered.

“Like...crazy in l...” I was going to say love. That's what snapped me out of it, or at least shook me severely. Love isn't a word to be used casually, and I hate when it is. I really like baseball, but I don't love it. I love Joel, but not romantically. If I am going to tell someone I love him, it's going to be real. And what I felt right now wasn't love...it was horny. God, it's hard to think with a hard on!

“Um, I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.” he whispered.

“Would...uh, would you like more food?”

“There's more?” his eyes lit up and I laughed, releasing some of the tension. I guess I'd be hungry too after more than a week without food. I got up and headed back out to the living room to find Woolcott still seated at the table, guzzling soda. I lifted the lid of the first box and, finding it empty, lifted the lid to the second, which was untouched.

“The second one was for him anyway, he needs the calories. I'd suggest you take water too, better for him right now than soda.”

I stepped into the kitchen and began opening cupboards to look for a glass, but each one was empty and dusty with disuse. I poked my head out to ask Woolcott and he waved a stack of plastic cups at me before I could ask.

“Pitcher on the counter, fill that and bring it to me.” he said. I shrugged and went back in the kitchen. As I reached for the pitcher, which I hadn't seen ten seconds before, I heard a hissing and a plant lurched out, stopping me from touching the pitcher. One pale pink flower opened to show a stinger and...what looked like teeth.

“Mind the Dragon Snaps, they aren't kind. Audrey! Let him pass!”

I glanced in the direction of Woolcott's voice, and then at the plant, presumably Audrey. The flower wilted just a touch, almost as if sulking. Plants don't sulk! I snatched the pitcher and filled it from the sink, then returned to Woolcott.

He waved his hand over the water, mumbled a little and the water flashed with a light of its own. It almost looked like the water was glowing.

“It's more nutritious now, more useful to him that plain water. He'll drink it all. Try to moderate his intake; we don't want him throwing up. Pizza and glowing water are hell to get out of the carpet.” He smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I simply picked up the pitcher, pizza box and a cup before carrying them back to Gideon's room. I wanted to knock this time, but with my hands full, just nudged the door open. He was picking up toppings that had fallen onto his plate and eating them as if starving. Well, I guess he kind of was.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the box and he was already prying it open as I placed it on the table. I set the pitcher down and the cup while he tore into the next slice.

“Woolcott said to take it easy or you'd throw it all up,” I told him as I sat on the bed. “He said something about glowing water and pizza being hard to get out of the carpet.” Gideon snorted, swallowed and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, he has the weirdest priorities sometimes.”

“Well, he did get you food. Looks like you needed it.”

“Yeah, true.” He belched loudly and shot me an embarrassed look, then devoured the rest of the slice. Snagging another piece, he bit, and took his time chewing. Watching him eat I was drawn to his skin again, a healthy glow flushing his cheeks. It just looked so smooth, I had to sit on my hands to remind myself it wasn't really real. I mean, it was, he was hot, but not the rest of it. Oh wait, I'm ridiculously horny, that's definitely real.

“It's not your fault, you know,” he said swallowing and setting his slice down. “I can't turn it off.”

“Huh?”

“You're a little, ah, keyed up. Again.” He smiled and I wished I could just die. This was not like me at all!

“Um,” I stuttered. “It's just your skin is..” I slapped a hand over my face and closed my eyes. “When it stops we will never speak of it again.”

He burst out laughing, a belly laugh that was contagious and I was smiling and soon after giggling along with his laugh. Tears formed in his eyes and, as he came close to gathering control of himself, he'd glance at me and start laughing again.

“Stop laughing,” I giggled at him, “ It's not that funny!” He only laughed harder, unable to catch his breath. He alternated between coughing and laughing, his face turning red. He looked away from me and slowly brought himself under control, stifling a giggle here and a snort there. I also worked at mastering myself, but I felt a grin threatening to split my barely controlled facade. He slowly turned around and smiled again when he faced me.

“I'm not surprised Woolcott didn't warn you, he's such an ass.”

“Yes,” I agreed without hesitation.

“I, ah, don't really know where to start here,” Gideon hesitated, then picked up his pizza again. “So...the pizza tells me we're not going to lunch at your house. I am kind of wondering why?”

“Gideon,” I sighed, “Don't be mad. It all made sense when I was thinking it, and looking back...well it doesn't. In light of actual events.” I sighed and he gave me a curious look, and then his face fell a bit. He rebounded nicely, schooling back to neutral, but I'd seen it.

“This is too much for you.” He said with certainty. “I understand,” he held a hand up to stifle my speech, “I do. You don't have to get technical or long winded. I guess I sort of...expected it.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” I frowned at him. His eyes opened a touch wider, but that was the limit of his response. “When you didn't show up for lunch I was pissed. Moody I think is what Joel said, or something equally trivial. I actually,” I pointed at him, “Don't laugh. I was actually thinking you'd just appear in the darkness of my closet to tell me whatever went wrong. But I was not about to chase you like I was desperate. I waited to talk to you on Monday.”

“I missed lunch?” He said.

“Then,” I nodded at him, “When you didn't show up on Monday, or Tuesday, I thought maybe you'd pulled up supernatural stakes and moved on. I still wasn't going to chase you. Aila changed that and, I guess, made me see that...I was really dumb to not call and find out why you didn't show. Although Woolcott didn't help.”

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” I replied.

“Wow, five days? He hit me hard,” Gideon grunted.

“Gideon, it's been a week and a half.” I said softly. He stopped chewing for a moment, then began again, thoughtfully.

“Well, he almost killed me then,” he whispered. He picked up a paper towel roll and pulled a sheet off, wiping his lips. Then he leaned over suddenly, grabbing his trash bin and emptied all the food he'd just eaten. He heaved noisily, neck muscles taut and his coloring going red. I guess it's not every day you wake up to find out you almost died.

I pulled a paper towel from the roll, folded it and had it ready when he was done. The smell hit me then, and my own stomach protested and I had to make a conscious effort not to join him in throwing up. On the plus side, I was not even remotely horny any more.

I headed out to the kitchen again to find a new garbage bag. Woolcott was finishing off the second bottle of soda, holding the two liter to his mouth and drinking in noisy gulps. He broke off to look at me questioningly.

“Strange, I'd have thought the two of you would be futilely attempting to create new life by now.”

I stared daggers at him.

“You know, making the beast with two backs? Planting your seed? Screwing like bunnies? Laying pipe? De...”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shut the fuck up, I'll deal with you later. I need a new garbage bag.”

“A spine? When did you get that?” he smiled at me. “Under the sink, I believe.”

I nodded and went into the kitchen. Audrey hissed at me and leaned precariously in my direction. I just wasn't in the mood for any more magical bullshit, so I pulled two bags out from under the sink and threw one over Audrey who snapped and snarled under the plastic. I yanked on the straps of the bag and hoisted her upside down and tied the handles together. I looked around for a garbage can, not finding one I just dropped her in the sink, gnashing teeth and all.

I stalked back to Gideon's room and changed the bag. I cinched the top of the bag and threw it out in the hallway. Let Woolcott deal with it. I closed the door and resumed my seat on Gideon's bed. He was looking a bit pale, worn out. I had a flippant remark on my tongue to break the mood, but thought better of it. There was a time to break the mood, and a time to deal with it.

“So...Moloch?” I asked, and sat on his bed.

“You know?” he glanced at me and I nodded in response. “Aila?” he asked.

“Yes, she's okay. She said you saved her life.”

“She's tough, she'd have been fine.” Gideon's voice was laced with doubt and worry.

“She told me some,” I reached out and put a hand on Gideon's shoulder, “Why don't you tell me what you remember?”

He barked out a humorless laugh, something that sounded more like a cough. “In every cheesy disaster movie I've ever seen, someone who survives a catastrophe with their life always says, 'it happened so fast'.” He glanced at me, “Woolcott loves disaster movies.”

He leaned back in his chair and glanced at the ceiling for a long moment. I tried to be patient, and just when I felt as if I couldn't wait one moment longer I would mentally shake myself, reminding my impatience of how difficult this must be for him. Finally he began speaking.

“Aila came over early; she is always early, but for once I was awake and ready when she got here. I had been thinking about the lunch visit, trying to figure out what to say around your parents or your friends. I was unfocused, but for once she wasn't hard on me about that. She and I had a long talk on the way to the practice field about interacting with people who...aren't like she and I.” He lowered his gaze from the ceiling and looked at me for a long considering moment.

“I'm kind of jealous of her, you know? She fits in here so well. She has friends.” He shrugged, “She and I talked about that before, but this was different. So we got to the field and started our routine. We have markers so we can define the sparring area; we have certain items we lay out to mitigate both of our talents from leaking into the area around us.”

“They must not be great; she mentioned imps have found you before,” I remarked.

“Yeah, they aren't perfect. Far from it actually, but for us they have been pretty effective. An imp was the worst we had to consider, previously, because there wasn't enough out there for the higher order of demons to manifest.”

“Okay, wait, before you get too far...what does that mean?”

“Demons can't just show up, it's not a simple act of will. There are preexisting conditions that make it possible for them to move into this world.” He hesitated, gathering his words together. “There has to be something that calls to them, something on this side that matches their hate, or comes close enough.”

“Seems kind of a stretch that people could hate as strongly as a demon,” I frowned.

“Oh, trust me, they can. Most people don't pray for other people to have peace or to learn to see things the way they do. Most folks are praying for someone else's misfortune, even their death. Even then, it takes a lot of focus, a lot of concentration.” He sighed heavily.

“You think you know what let this one in?”

“I'm afraid I do. I think the Council of Light is close by.”

“Okay, that's one group I don't know. Let's come back to that; what about the fight? How you were a hero and everything?” I smiled at him and he may have blushed ever so slightly.

“I don't know about all that. Like I was saying,” he waved his hand, “We'd set up our perimeter and were starting to spar when we smelled the stink that can only be a demon. This one smelled a thousand times worse, though, than any imp ever hoped to. This was an old rot.”

“Aila told me a little about Moloch. He sounds like he'd smell bad.” I offered.

“Demons are a lot more literal when it comes to 'you are what you eat'. Moloch is most well known as a Carthaginian deity, part of the Phoenician pantheon. There was a lot of debate about how much truth there was to the frequency of human sacrifice to him,” Gideon leaned back in his chair, and began to recite the details he'd studied, presumably from the books that filled his room.

“Rome finally destroyed Carthage in 146 B.C.E. after squaring off repeatedly during the Punic Wars. Archaeologists have excavated some ruins that suggest animal and human sacrificial remains as well as some iconography showing a priest with a small child. That children were sacrificed to Moloch isn't really the question. Modern thinking is that they used animals most of the time, but in times of strife or great trouble they would begin sacrificing children. That's not the real story, though.

“Some have suggested that the Romans vilified the Carthaginians and exaggerated the number and veracity of the sacrifices. I know differently.” Gideon leaned forward and looked down at the floor, clasping his hands between his knees. “In fact there was a lot of hate and fear in the city of Carthage. Long wars, lots of dead or maimed warriors, not to mention the normal issues that plague any large city. Carthage was ripe for the picking, and Moloch played it so skillfully that he managed to destroy a whole city.

“How?” I asked, undeniably curious.

“Moloch is a lot more subtle than he's generally given credit for, but in Carthage he was able to influence his priests. They started preaching the sacrifice of children to appease Moloch and to bring a devastating end to the war, a decisive blow to Rome. The priests advocated taking the poor children first, to appeal to the wealthy. Small children were swept up all over the city, and sacrificed one after the other. Weeping or grieving was forbidden, and trumpets, horns and lyres would be played to mask the wailing of those about to be sacrificed, and the screams of those that died.

“They were burned alive.” Gideon said in a near whisper.

“Holy shit.”

“As the battle turned against Carthage, and Roman troops closed in on the city, the priests claimed that Moloch was displeased with the low quality of the sacrifices and that the 'god' was angry that the wealthy asked of him, but did not give of themselves. They planned to sacrifice more than two hundred children, but in their blood-lust and eagerness to please their god and save themselves, they sacrificed more than five hundred children. All this as the Romans were breaking down the city gates, all this...with Moloch not physically there.”

“So you think...this group, this Council of Light is creating the right...what? Mix of hate and fear for Moloch to come through? How can they do that if sacrificing busloads of kids couldn't?”

“I can't be completely sure but, I know that whenever light and dark have clashed violently, a demon has broken through, even if there isn't enough to sustain them. The fear, the pain, the hate is all sustenance to them, fuel. When the fuel is gone, the people dead, they can't maintain their physical manifestation."

“So you think there is some kind of, what, secret light and dark thing going on locally?”

“No, there are so few dark around, if there were a major fight happening I'd know. I think what happened is...well, an execution. Probably more than one.”

“I'm guessing this isn't a normal execution, so...what's different?”

“The energy. Thirteen light wielders surround a dark and focus their talents on him, literally burning his soul from the inside out. There isn't even dust left behind. On top of that, it takes a great deal of focus to burn someone like that, a lot of hate and of course the person dying is filled with fear, and then pain. Takes a long, long time to die that way. I think that's what happened.”

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