You are indeed a talented tempter. It is with no doubt that you were born with an eye for spotting weaknesses. Though, a compliment does not come without criticism with me. Sadly, you lack intelligence in devising successful plans, and you should be grateful for my help. I sense you are probably in denial, but what I say is true, so read me well and thorough.
At the sight of loneliness, your patient is now weak and will be willing to have the company of any sort. You desire to make her feel more isolated, and that may seem like a good plan if she was indeed alone. But from what you have mentioned, her loneliness is a state of mind and in order to use that to your advantage, I believe it is time for you to be her matchmaker.
The boy she is so fond of will now come in handy. Convince his tempter that now is the time to act, and with the right seeds, you and the boy’s tempter would have planted lust in fertile soil. Act now, or act soon, lust can be your best friend. It could also be a child of your own, to raise for future biddings.
This loneliness is a free ride. She may soon redraw from those around her and find refuge in only one person. I believe you have been taught on what two people could do, when no one else is around, or existent in the universe of ‘just you and me’.
Do not mess this up Vilefire. I may be an old fart, as some may call me behind my back, but I know what I am speaking of, unlike Makallous and his callous tongue.
Do believe me also, when I say that I only want the best for you. You may remember me as the absent Godfather for most of your life, but I never failed at birthday gifts, even when your father was swaggering in the human world in his glory days.
This leads me to the part where you made no mention of your father and his claims of a messenger. You may have over read the ending of my last letter, but I hope you do not misread this one. It is of grave importance for you to share whatever information your father might have told you, as I have mentioned, I can help him.
I hope to hear from you soon Vilefire.
Your willing Godfather,
Mrs. Gregious was probably getting tired of being the mail lady that she had to grunt and mutter extremely loud as she left Slubgob’s office that evening.
But even as her mutters carried on down the hallway, Slubgob paid no attention but to his own disappointment. He had hoped that the boy had some information, or that Bledbrush would have told him something. Though there was a possibility that Vilefire might be hiding something, but he sensed the lack of trust in the young tempter towards him.
When Vilefire was born, and when Slubgob was made Godfather, he swore that he would do good by the child. Since he had no sons of his own, Vilefire was a child he might actually have the ability to beget some affection for. But as the years went by, Slubgob and Bledbrush had drifted in their relationship. Bledbrush was parading his successes, while Slubgob was hoping to create apprentices while he was still the principle of Tempters’ Training College for Young Demons. The poor boy was raised by a maid like Mrs. Gregious, and saw his father as often as a wolf would see a full moon. Slubgob was even more non-existent as he was merely a name on greeting cards that Vilefire was probably not interested in. Vilefire never wrote back, nor did Bledbrush. And after Bledbrush’s fall, Vilefire disappeared from his thoughts all together.
Slubgob would have never spoken to the boy if not for Bledbrush’s ugly scribbled letter. May our father below have mercy on him, Slubgob thought. Whatever Bledbrush got into would lead to a punishment far worse than exile, and Slubgob had to admit that there was no way in saving him. All Slubgob wanted was to know why and what.
Yes, he lied to Vilefire in almost every letter he had written so far, but even the boy must know that his father was beyond help. If Vilefire was ever to share whatever he knew, it was because he wanted to know why and what as well.
Let me do the digging boy, and I will do my best to be the father you never had, Slubgob thought. Though, he doubted that Vilefire would want him to be any more of a father to him than Bledbrush.
After Slubgob had gotten through his internal thoughts and rants, a knock came from his office door. Mrs. Gregious did not wait for an approval as she stormed in, muttering louder than before. She trusted a package in Slubgobs arms before storming out with, “Get a mailman. I have other things to do like cook your revolting dinner.”
“I will have my dinner in here Mrs. Gregious,” Slubgob shouted his reply. What he did was very much on purpose. There was a certain joy he got from the annoyance Mrs. Gregious was going through.
Once his smile resided, Slubgob examined the package. Could it be from Grayfoul? He had not heard from him in a while. But why would he send him a package? The man was never generous, and he would have preferred to send him a letter with as little words as possible.
Slowly unwrapping the package, Slubgob expected to find something more interesting, like a hand or a head, but instead, he found a book. It was a soft brown leather covered book, with pages barely hanging on to the spine. Flipping it open, Slubgob found familiar handwriting.
It was readable this time and the black ink flowed in neat curves. This was Bledbrush’s handwriting before he lost his hands. The first page was dated 18 years ago, where he mentioned of how Vilefire was bursting with cries and shrieks like a perfect baby. Gently flipping to the last few pages, the handwriting had changed into scribbles and drawings no better than a child’s.
The last entry was dated a year ago, barely readable but heavily laden with a secret. Slubgob could just feel the weight of the journal’s contents in his hands. This was what he was looking for, and someone had sent it to him. But who?
Could it be Vilefire? Or could it be someone else, hoping to use him and his intelligence. Slubgob was certain he could name a few who would do exactly that.
Staring down at the journal, Slubgob could only wonder.
(For the chapter list, visit here.)