“Who are you?” he demanded. “Where is Rhiannon? What have you done with her?”
“We meet at last!” said a deep, sultry baritone voice from the fog. “I have long wished it. Forgive the rude awakening. Unfortunately, it is necessary until we’ve talked. You have the advantage of wings, Lord of the Dark, and I, alas, do not.”
“Where is Rhiannon?” Gideon demanded. “What have you done with her?”
“Done with her?” the voice in the fog said. “Curious question. We are not murderers here. Whatever fate those that enter through those gates have earned for themselves, they have done so on their own. We are simply…administrators here.”
“Enforcers, you mean!” Gideon corrected. “They hardly mete out their own torture, Ravelle.”
“You know me then,” the demon said. “I am impressed.”
“I know of you,” Gideon said. “All of Arcus knows of Ravelle, the keeper of Outer Darkness, and his cruelties. You have me. Let Rhiannon go. She has done nothing to earn admittance to the Netherworld. The watchers put her here to punish me.”
“Umm, yes, I know of your…punishments. There are those who would deem perpetual arousal a blessing of the gods. You’ll find no sympathy for that here.”
“Show yourself!” Gideon charged. “And loose me of this tether. I will not go anywhere without Rhiannon. Unchain me!”
“You are lord of your domain, Gideon, but you are at my mercy here,” Ravelle reminded him. “You would do well to take another tack with me.”
The demon’s sugar-coated voice had suddenly turned dark and threatening. Gideon took stock. He needed all his wits about him to best this creature. He thought of the last question the rune caster owed him, and the two feathers. He also remembered the disembodied voices’ words warning that he choose wisely. Desperately, he strained his ears to hear those voices again, but all was still. He was on his own, his focus on one thing only: He needed to find Rhiannon and leave Outer Darkness.
“Very well,” he said. “I would appreciate that you return Rhiannon to me. She is an innocent in this, and—”
“Ahh, but the innocents are the most succulent,” the demon interrupted. “I found her especially so.”
Gideon stiffened, straining at the tether. “What have you done to her?” he seethed.
“Taken better care than you have, Lord of the Dark,” Ravelle chortled. “For one thing, I clothed her, else she be fighting off all my subjects. Take ease, I haven’t touched her…yet. I was referring to observation only. You are quite the stud, my friend, and she…well, there are no words.”
Gideon’s posture clenched again. So they had been watched. It would not be easy having her back from the demon now that he’d seen Rhiannon naked, in the throes of ecstasy. This was to be a battle of wits, and he prayed to the gods that had forsaken him to give him the power to win.
“What do you want of me?” he said, still searching the drifting fog for sight of the creature.
“I want you to remain here, with me,” Ravelle said. “We have much in common, winged one. Just think of the power we would command were we to join forces. I have long dreamed of it. You have nothing left in your world. You are hunted like an animal. Here, you would be like a god, and we could rule together. Thanks to the corruption of humankind, Outer Darkness has grown too vast for one alone to govern. Think of it! Think of the power the two of us could command!”
“And Rhiannon…what of her?” Gideon hedged. The demon still hadn’t shown himself. He needed to see the creature to strategize how to best it.
“We would share in all things equally,” Ravelle said, “even your Rhiannon.”
“Show yourself!” Gideon said, hoping his tone wasn’t as abrasive as it sounded. “I make no bargains with wraiths in the mist.”
There was a long silence before the mist parted and the creature pranced into view. Ravelle was much as he had been described, a horned, cloven-hoofed satyr, goatlike from the waist down, his upper body that of a human, muscular and magnificent, hairless but for an arrow-straight strip of hair that pointed to the bulge below his waist that two airborne sylphs were addressing.
“Have one,” the demon offered, gesturing toward the winged females. “Avail yourself. I offer as a gesture of good faith. Take your pick…or would you rather a catamite? My stables are at your disposal, dark one. There, you will find a bedmate for every taste, a creature for every appetite. I would have thought such a one as these—winged as you are—would be the perfect enticement, which is why I summoned them.”
“I want only Rhiannon,” Gideon said, watching for a reaction.
The demon’s reptilian eyes narrowed. The look in them chilled Gideon to the marrow. “How mundane,” the creature said. “Denial of a good will offering is not an option. Even here there is such a thing as hospitality. You would do well to observe it.”
“Another time,” Gideon said steadily. “Rhiannon is my mate, Ravelle. It is she whom I hunger for. That is not to say that at another time one of these lovelies mightn’t suit…” he quickly added. It would not do to anger the creature.
“In due time,” the demon said. “Once we have settled our…business.”
Gideon nodded. “Then let us get on with it, eh?”
Despite his refusal, one of the sylphs left Ravelle and descended upon Gideon. She wore no garment, only a fine silver chain about her waist. Her breasts, perfect and firm, grazed his shoulder, the nipples steely hard scraping against his moist skin. She touched his wings and they unfurled, nearly knocking her over.
“Do not touch my wings!” he warned, twisting away A cold light flared in the demon’s eyes, and a smile creased his sensuous lips that did not reach that lecherous gaze. He waved his hand. “Away!” he commanded the sylphs. Cowering, they faded into the mist, and Ravelle jerked the chain attached to Gideon’s collar leading him away from the bog, to a clearing not far distant. On his guard, Gideon let the demon lead him, fully aware that no move the creature made could be trusted.
“I see you are still skeptical,” Ravelle purred. He cocked his head, a sly glimmer in his snakelike eyes. He flicked a crooked finger toward Gideon’s wings, then recoiled it slowly, resting the knuckle on his lower lip. “Must be a ghastly nuisance that,” he said. “Even the touch of the wind ruffling your feathers gets you hard, um?”
Ravelle had made no move to touch them, but Gideon furled his wings regardless, and made no reply.
The demon laughed outright. “Don’t worry, dark one,” he said. “I’m not going to torture you, quite the contrary…if you will allow a little demonstration?”
“What kind of demonstration?” Gideon said, skeptically. He’d lived too long to trust a demon lord of Outer Darkness.
“This kind,” said Ravelle, blowing upon Gideon’s wings.
The issue from the demon’s puffed out cheeks was blue, like the volcanic gasses that issued from the Fire Isle that warmed the bathing pools throughout the archipelago. It stung Gideon’s eyes and rushed up his nostrils, making him grimace. Gideon shrank from it, but it clung stubbornly like a blue halo about his furled wings.
“What is that?” he choked.
“My demonstration,” Ravelle said. “Unfurl your wings.”
Gideon hesitated.
“Oh, come, come, dark one!” Ravelle snapped. “If I wanted you dead, you’d have been so long since. It is a nuisance ending the life of an immortal, too tedious. Besides, you are of more use to me alive, but you are stubborn, and a skeptic. You are of a sort that must be shown, and so I am showing you, plain and simple. Now, unfurl those wings!”
Gideon did as Ravelle bade him, and the demon came closer, his cloven hooves hidden in the mist, though their clopping chilled Gideon to the bone.
The demon reached toward him. “May I?” he said, his intent to stroke Gideon’s feathers.
Gideon backpedaled pulling the chain taut. Clearly out of patience, Ravelle gave the chain a sharp tug, jerking Gideon to a standstill, and stroked the feathers on
his left wing. To Gideon’s great surprise, there was no arousal, no crippling surge of libidinous lust that always riddled him with unstoppable waves of carnal desire. He reached with his own hands and ran them over his wings. Nothing. No feeling at all. Could it be? His wings had been sexually charged since his fall from grace. How could this be? Slack-jawed, he stared at the smug-faced demon watching, arms akimbo.
“Well?” Ravelle said. “How long has it been, um?”
“I…I don’t understand…” Gideon said.
The demon laughed. “How would you like your wings to stay thus? How would you like to soar through the sky like the sylphs do? How would you like to glide again with the cool wind soothing your feathers, not igniting the perpetual lust of the gods you still champion so—despite that they have condemned you to suffer such cruel torments? I can do that for you, just as I’ve done it now. Remain here with me. Rule with me, Prince of the Night. You belong here—in the dark. Together, what a team we would make. But I see you need more convincing…”
Inhaling, the demon sucked back the blue aura that had clung to Gideon’s wings. The sudden drainage left Gideon weak and he swayed, wings shuddering as the lust returned a thousand-fold, and he groaned for the pressure of his hard cock swelling against the seam of his eel-skin suit, drawing his hand there, and dropped to his knees.
“Yes,” the demon crooned, “it had been difficult for you, but it need not remain so. All you need do is join forces with me. You have no idea of the power I command, and of course there is your Rhiannon…”
Gideon’s head was spinning. Just those few moments of relief were like heaven, but only to have it snatched away again was the cruelest kind of torture. Ravelle was a dangerous entity. He had honed in upon Gideon’s greatest weakness and used it against him in the most vicious way, made more so by the syrupy manner in which the proposal was put forth. Gideon had seen through the demon’s clever seduction, but still…oh, but still, that one brief moment of blessed relief…If only it could continue…
All at once a racket of noise hit his brain like cannon fire—raised voices, yelling, arguing, demanding to be heard…
I told you we should have intervened! one was shouting.
It’s too late, the other said.
He cannot succumb! Do something!
He has free will. There is nothing to be done.
Then shout! Shout at the top of your voice and pray he hears you!
A garbled static of ear-splitting noise banged around in Gideon’s brain. Two speakers were causing it. What were they saying? It sounded so urgent. What did it all mean?
Gideon was too dazed to make it out. He couldn’t concentrate upon that. He needed all his wits about him to withstand the demon’s seduction, for it was his greatest test yet. Shaking himself like a dog, he tried to rise. The voices were screaming inside his skull. Who were they? What did they want?
“Rhiannon,” he murmured. “Take me to Rhiannon….”
“Ah, yes, Rhiannon,” the demon said, her name rolling off his tongue with a flourish. It sounded obscene when he spoke it. “You aren’t ready. You need to rest and order yourself. You need time to mull over my little proposition first.” He bent, secured the chain in his hand to something hidden in the ground-creeping fog, then stood and began to strut, preening like a dandy. “You will find this place much more comfortable than the bramble mire where I found you. Stretch out and…relax. Relieve yourself.” He gestured toward the obvious. “That there is crying for attention. I honestly do not know how you’ve stood it all these years, but you needn’t much longer. One word from you and all that will end. Join with me, and you shall have control of your body again…and your Rhiannon. Meanwhile, I shall entertain her. I’ve neglected her shamefully since your arrival, and that won’t do. Innocents are such a rarity here. But have no fear. I shall see to it personally that all her needs are met…while you decide, um?”
“And if I decline your invitation?” Gideon asked.
“I think you know the answer to that, Lord of the Dark. Now then! Take all the time you need. Rest assured that while you wrestle with your answer, your Rhiannon is in good hands, um?”
Gideon got to his feet and staggered to the end of his tether. It jerked him to a standstill, and he grabbed the chain, only to cry out as it seared his hands again. The odor of burnt flesh rushed up his nostrils from his smoking palms, and he threw the chain down.
“Ravelle, wait!” he called out. “Wait, damn you!”
“Too late for that!” the demon twittered. “Think carefully before you decide. It shouldn’t take you long, considering. Meanwhile, I’ll see that our Rhiannon isn’t bored, hm?”
Gideon called out again, but there was no answer from the thick, milling fog. Ravelle was gone.
19
Rhiannon crouched in a dark corner of the chamber where Ravelle had left her. It was well appointed, part of a castle-like complex that she assumed to be his stronghold. Why had she fallen asleep in Gideon’s arms? Why hadn’t she remained vigilant? The demon had taken her captive so easily. What was he doing to Gideon? She had screamed until her throat was hoarse and pounded on the chamber door until she’d scraped her knuckles raw, but there was no answer. She was alone, in a strange, dark, and evil place at the mercy of the keeper of Outer Darkness, and she was terrified.
She fingered the filmy gown the demon had given her. It was coal black like the atmosphere, spun of some anonymous stuff that sparkled like black diamonds and hid none of her charms. Strange little creatures, neither male nor female, like those carved in the stone of the cold hearth holding up the mantel, stripped away the old tattered shift the dryads had spun for her in the astral and helped her into the dusky frock. The winged imps dressed her hair with a wreath of petrified berries and blackened twigs that shot out from its circumference like rain glancing off a spinning wheel. A gauze veil that matched her frock fell from the circlet over the loose plait the creatures had fashioned in her hair that nearly reached the hem of the garment. Rhiannon detested the veil. It reminded her of a macabre bridal headdress. She hadn’t missed the lecherous gleam in the satyr’s reptilian eyes as he took her into his charge. Those eyes had undressed her, lingering expectantly upon her naked breasts. His lascivious gaze had chilled her so severely her nipples had hardened. Could he have taken the reaction as arousal? If he had, he was a fool, for she recoiled from his very presence. It was afterward that he’d summoned the imps, their pudgy arms loaded down with the makings of her present toilette, and she hadn’t missed the lustful look he’d given the rest of her, raking her from head to toe, those glowing eyes lingering upon her pubic mound.
After they’d dressed her, the imps had locked her inside the vast chamber and left her, disappearing into the shadows. That was some time ago, and her terror that something horrible was happening to Gideon had nearly driven her mad.
The rasp of a key turning in the door lock spun her toward it, and she snatched a silver candle branch from the table and held it at the ready, her breath suspended as the door slowly opened.
“Do not throw that,” Ravelle’s velvet voice warned as he entered. “You cannot hurt me, and you will only hurt yourself…in more ways than one.”
“Let me out of here!” Rhiannon demanded. “Where is Gideon? What have you done with him?”
“He is resting,” the demon said, coming nearer, his cloven hooves ringing on the slate floor. “I’ve made him a very enticing proposition, and given him time to mull it over. There’s no question, really, but just in case he doesn’t realize that, I may need you to help me convince him.”
“I won’t help you with anything!” Rhiannon shrilled, brandishing the candle branch. “Come no nearer! I’m warning you, I have true aim!”
The demon breathed a gusty sigh. “How tiresome!” he said. “My lady, I cannot be killed. I cannot even be seriously injured, least of all by that! You look the fool in that ritual toilette wielding a candle branch.” He glanced toward the table she’d snatched it f
rom. Great silver salvers and bowls were set there heaped with food—all sorts of exotic fruit bursting with sweet juices. There were slabs of creamy cheese set out on great dewy leaves, joints of beef and mutton, platters of larded fowl and potted meats, as well as warm, crusty bread and crystal decanters filled with rich, red wine. Rhiannon had touched none of it, and the demon’s eyebrow lifted. “You must be starving,” he said. “Why have you not availed yourself?”
“I…I want none of your food,” Rhiannon said. “Stand back, I say!”
The demon chuckled. “Silly chit,” he warbled. “Eating my food can’t harm you. This isn’t the astral, where the fay capture with food. This is Outer Darkness! The worst has already happened to you, my dear. It doesn’t matter what you eat anymore.”
“I want nothing from you…nothing but Gideon. Take me to him at once!”
Ravelle had come close enough to wrest the candle branch from her, and he did so with flourish, and set it down upon the table. “Have done!” he snapped. “I mean only to tell you what I’ve told him…in case he needs persuading. If convincing is in order that might be best coming from you than me, that’s all.”
Rhiannon gave it thought, but she wasn’t ready to take Ravelle at his word. She’d heard too many tales of Outer Darkness to trust its keeper, despite his syrupy voice and seemingly innocent, albeit frightening, demeanor.
“If Gideon is not convinced of whatever you’ve proposed on his own my opinion won’t sway him, nor should it. He is lord in these matters. You waste your time with me.”
“Well, it’s my time to waste, and you are a captive audience, so you may as well indulge me. I have asked your Gideon to join forces and rule jointly with me here, you, of course, would be part of that equation.”
“And he refused you?” Rhiannon said buoyantly. “I knew he would. He would never consent to rule here with you.”
“One must never say never, my lady. I told you I made him an enticing proposal. I even gave him a little demonstration.”
Lord of the Dark Page 20