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White Iris Breeze
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"If I am to take you," I say, "how would I justify a hellspawn following me?"
She can take care of herself. Can't you, Layla?
"Yes, Revenant," she says. Her voice is long nails scratching silk. "I can will myself into cloaked invisibility upon command. Until you have need of my skills, I am air."
"And will you cease with your succubus aura?"
"My what now?"
"I cannot spend all my time beating my male adherents off you with a stick."
"Oh." She laughs, low and syrupy, and raises one eyebrow. "I'm not a succubus, Revenant. A succubus would be useless to you. I am a warmage." She grabs her chest. I look away. "And there isn't really a way to shut off the Twins. I'm, uh, glad you approve, though. I... could throw on a sweater? Or a habit?"
"I cannot condone a servant with no will of her own," I say, attempting to change the subject of conversation.
"My will is to save creation, kill the mage Ansirous, and earn glory, astonishing bragging rights, and a place of power in the kingdom of Hell," says Layla. "My Lord the Southern Dragon and Great Foe tells me the only way to do that is to serve you. Your will, therefore, is mine."
"You are a demon."
"And you're a Revenant," she laughs. "My place is to punish souls. Yours is to destroy them. In the eyes of God, you are ten times more wicked, and ten times again. What does it matter, what we are? What matters is what we do. And I will do," she says, her marshfire eyes narrowing, "whatever you would have me do."
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