Ouroboros II | The Wolf

18 | Ira Is Reminded That Nothing Comes Easy

Every breathing thing had desire. From the squirrels in Central Park, scrambling to find discarded pizza crusts just to survive another day, to the Second Prince of Hell who desired his hands on the throat of the world. Ira had desires, too. Maybe more than he was even willing to admit to himself. And so, he knew the Fifth Prince shared in wanting. 

"You won't aid us in our quest, fine." Ira surrendered, spreading his palms in front of his wildly pounding chest. "But how about a deal? I can get what I want and you can get whatever it is you want."

The Fifth Prince paused, her night-colored fingers paused on the handle of the waiting room door. Her claws tapped there, etching a pattern of melodic music into the stiff air. "I don't understand. I tell you now, I tell you later. I am still involving myself in something beyond my position." 

"You're not!" Mayvalt stammered quickly, stumbling forward on herself from the jolt of her words. "We're just asking for a fair trade. What we do with our reward is up to us. That's the rules of a good deal, right? I mean--who could blame a devil for making a devil deal?" 

Her words hung in the air, lyrics to the tune the Fifth Prince knocked into the door. For many moments, the Fifth Prince said nothing. Did nothing. Turning as faithfully statuesque as the Wall Street Bull. 

Ira almost couldn't breath. His lungs had tangled into knots, throbbing as a second heart beneath his rib cage. The Fifth Prince's shoulders sloped under the soft white gauze of her peplos. She exhaled a sharp gust of wind and yanked the waiting room door open on its hinges. The glimmering black glass door whimpered on silver metal joints. The Fifth Prince swished forward into the hall--after swooping to avoid hitting her shoulders on the top of the door's frame. Ira glanced at Mayvalt who shrugged before galloping after the Prince's wake. Having no other choice, Ira followed. 

The waiting room had been chaotic--but the castle revealed from beyond its doors was worse. Ira really needed to shed that pesky habit of expectations. The halls, in a way, resembled the outer layer of the castle. They were cast in that same black volcanic shimmer. All edges sharp and all angles long. The hall extended for as far as Ira could see in every direction he managed to spin. The walls ran up, and up, and up, into a jagged glass ceiling that rippled with a mirrored image of the floor below. A floor that was jam-packed with so much stuff Ira could hardly navigate his way beyond the opened door. The gothic volcanic castle had been turned into a rummage sale--or a junkyard.

Positioned to his immediate left was an old arcade game that still beeped and flashed with red lettering announcing a K.O. defeat. Stacked atop the arcade game were books. Some about history, others about mathematics, and several more about romances and adventures--if Ira could indeed judge a book by its cover. To his right was a rusted tricycle with pink ribbons hanging from the handlebars. A pair of brand new skis had been leaned against the small trike. 

Mayvalt lingered a few inches to his front, wearily eyeing a cracked porcelain doll that had been left slumped amongst the towering mess. Positioned in the crowds of old toys, spare furniture, dusty dishware, and yellowing paper were the guards. Those same black-robed adorned demons who had taken Ira and Mayvalt in. Each one stood stiff with alarm. Their heads, which they had not yet bowed out of that same shock, swung back and forth between the fallen Ely and her guests. Below the black fringes in their robe hoods--Ira could finally make out features he recognized. Wide brown eyes, trembling pink lips, flushed blush-red cheeks. From some, he noticed lumps in the tops of their hoods. The robed demons were He-Goats. 

"My Lord!" One of the guards whimpered, swooping so low his chest ran parallel to the swirling black floors. The glass beneath the length of his ankle-length robe, like the domed glass ceiling stories above, was reflective. Ira could see the He-Goat's confused expression staring back up at him from the palace floors. "Wh-why are the prisoners permitted their sight?"