“What now, Sugar?” he asked.
She knew what he was thinking. In his mind he saw himself as the helpless male on the simulated street corner. Usually her prey struggled, but this kill was almost effortless. She could take her time, enjoy it, so she moved slowly while her tongue made a languorous lick along every inch of his body. She finally reached his cock and saw that it had grown and was full and pulsing. His blood would be so red it would look black. As black as her soul, as black as the night, and as black as her heart. Then, opening her mouth, she slowly began to suck harder and harder. She became more insistent, even rough, as her sharp teeth grazed along his twitching member.
His hips undulated, pushing in and out, the flames of his lust rising higher and higher.
She knew he was coming closer and closer to the edge, so she moved toward his chest, grazing along his rippling muscles as he swam in a red-hot euphoria from which he would never return. Being very careful, she sank him into herself so deep she could almost feel the tip of his cock touch her very core.
Her blood hunger was at its peak, the pull of the moon irresistible. Her gaze was drawn to its irresistible glow. The silver light and shadow played along her wild nocturnal beauty as she made the final change from Sugar to Spice. She was hungry for everything now, for his blood, his flesh, his very soul.
The mutation complete, she rode him with wild abandon.
She saw his eyes open slightly, but knew the dark room hid her secret with shadows that hung like a sinister curtain and veiled her body in silhouette. With a moan his hands came up and grabbed her hips, his cock thrusting into her so hard, she almost screamed. She could sense the barely controlled power that was coiled in his body. He was a volcano about to erupt. The passion rose so high between them that their senses spun, the hot tides of orgasm just beyond as they both reached upward, scratching for the ultimate, going higher and higher. They rolled and tumbled in the shadows, first one on top, then the other. Finally Spice opened her mouth and sensuously scraped his neck while whispering in his ear, “You’re ready. I’m going to bite you now.”
“Oh, God, Sugar! Your teeth…I can feel them. I’m coming! I can’t wait! I’m coming!” He erupted, and while the sizzling orgasm swirled in his groin, his eyes opened lazily and saw the light of the moon move over the wild-looking creature that sat above him.
He let out a bloodcurdling scream.
The struggle began!
He fought, but she could feel him sinking into death as her teeth began to scratch along his neck, his flesh tearing like ribbons.
Blood flowed!
He was on the brink of death. The raw taste of his flesh made her wild, so she lunged forward, and in one swift motion—sank her teeth deep into his throat.
Weak from the aftereffects of his orgasm, his struggle soon ended. His hands that had been firm on her hips, fell in death. His body lay quiet and unmoving while his blood swelled into her mouth. She tasted not only his blood, but his lust. She gulped over and over, taking more than she should. It was hard to stop since his blood tasted of honeyed liqueur, his flesh like ripe, succulent fruit. It was almost impossible for Spice to draw away from this fountain of blood, but no sooner than his body was drained, her eyelids began to droop until they slowly closed. As she rolled away from him, she lay there in blissful tranquility while the mutation reversed itself, changing her from the wild beauty of the night into a soft and delicate loveliness.
Chapter 7
As she slept, black, threatening clouds slowly began to roil, churn, whip, and toss until, at last, a dark, foreboding figure broke through. Black, glossy wings were widespread as he whirled about against the dark skies. Closer and closer he came, sailing on turbulent winds, veering one way and then another as he descended slowly toward the earth. Stealthily he swooped down, circling nearby until he perched on the balustrade of the old mansion’s veranda, dressed in a brief flying suit with sandaled feet.
Through curls of sensual fog, he stepped down, careful not to make any noise. The moist wind drifted brazenly over him in a movement that felt like gentle foreplay. He was about to enter a bedroom when he saw a bright, glowing, ghost-like figure the color of a tombstone. His appearance was that of a skeletal angel, his wings ribbed with thin, clattering bones. His eye sockets, blazing like red-hot coals taken from the furnaces of Hell, were looking out of a skull that sat atop a thin neck. His deathly appearance seemed almost illusory.
“You will come no further, Judas.”
“You,” Judas hissed. “Let me pass. You have no dominion here.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. She has called for me, opening the door.”
“You’re lying. She called for you weeks ago, not now.”
“She wasn’t ready then. Now she is. Now I can take her with almost no effort.”
“I’m here to prevent such a disaster. It is not time, Death, and I assure you, if you try to take her, you will have me to contend with.”
“Do not interfere,” Death threatened with a deep, penetrating voice.
“Interfere?” Judas said, pushing his way into the bedroom. “I am here at the command of my father, the Demon Lord. You are the trespasser. Retreat, or pay the consequences.”
Death silently stepped closer to him, the moonlight revealing more of his pale, death-like image. “An empty threat, Judas.”
“Oh? Make one more move and see if it is.”
Anger darkened Death’s face. “What makes you think you can order me about?” His blazing eyes raked over Judas. “You, with your beauty of body and face, are an arrogant ass who thinks all should bow down to him. Let me assure you, most holy Son of Darkness, that I am not in that number.” With a sudden movement, Death whipped out a wicked blade that glistened in the cold rays of the moon.
He pointed it at Judas’s heart.
“En garde,” he said softly with a sardonic twist of his mouth. As he glared at Judas, tiny flames of fire licked upward within his eyes.
“What is this?” Judas said, casually knocking the point of blade aside. “Do you seriously think you can kill me with a flimsy piece of metal?”
“If I do nothing more than draw the blood of one so precious to Satan, I will be satisfied.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Judas said as he dodged the thrusting blade. “You cannot harm me—”
“Cease your stupid chatter, my handsome friend, and find a weapon.”
Anger prickled at Judas. “You’re asking for trouble, Death.”
“Am I? And what kind of trouble can you, a mere mortal—”
“Mortal?” Judas chuckled. “You talk crazy.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that since your mother was mortal, you are as well? Yes, Judas, you have a soul, black though it may be, and a free choice. You could even stay here, if you chose, and leave the Dark Heavens behind.”
“That’s ridiculous. You know my reputation. I’ve survived many wars without so much as a scratch. My father wouldn’t have let me take such chances if he knew I was mortal. He would have told me long before now.”
“So the great Judas still lives in darkness. Allow me to enlighten you. Do you see this sword? This ‘flimsy piece of metal,’ as you call it, could pierce your heart, and that would be the end of you. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. I want you to live so you can see me ease her into hell.”
“I don’t believe a word. You can stab me until the end of time, but my wounds will heal before you can get your blade back in its sheath.”
“Then I’ll have to show you,” Death threatened, backing Judas into a corner.
“You’ve always hated me, Death, and I’ve never known why. Tell me, what is it about me that you can’t seem to tolerate?”
“Your beauty is enough to make me hate you,” he rasped. “The way you strut around the Black Heavens, the way the maidens swoon over you. Well, no more. After tonight, when you have met the thrust of my blade, you will be as reviled as I.”
“And how will you do th
at?” Judas asked, bravely facing Death with his hands on his hips. He jumped slightly when one quick movement had the glittering metal hovering in front of his eyes. For the first time, doubt began to creep ever so slightly into him, shattering his confidence. As he looked anxiously at the sharp point, his hands dropped from his hips and his heart raced.
Had Death told the truth? Was he about to learn that truth at the sharp point of a dueling blade? Seeing the scowl of anger on Death’s pale face and the blade waving in front of him, Judas began to sweat. His natural defense began to rise, and he said, “I would advise you to get out now, Death, before things get ugly.” Following up his threat with a defensive move, he lifted one hand, and with a mighty wave, hit his enemy with a warning lightning bolt in his bony shoulder. “Get out now, or I will show you what I can really do.”
“Argh!” Death cried out in desperate agony as he grabbed his shoulder. Whirling back around, he eyed Judas with a killer look. “You stupid fool. Take this!” Faster than the speed of light, he thrust the blade forward.
Before Judas knew what was happening, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain tear through his head. Putting his hand up to his face, he felt a wound, bloody and raw. He lowered his hand and looked at the blood as if he couldn’t believe it.
“You bastard!” he yelled. “What have you done?” Just then he heard the cowardly demon’s insane laugh as he disappeared.
Feeling defeated, Judas sank to his knees, wanting to cry, but instead he lifted his tear-stained face toward the skies and bellowed out, “F-a-a-a-a-ther! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me find out like this?”
With a chill racing down his back, he thought of all the bloody battles he had fought and the stupid chances he had taken. He could see himself standing in the middle of countless battlefields daring his enemy to destroy him. Thinking he was immortal, he had taken chance after chance, never knowing he could die. It would have taken only one arrow, one bullet, or one sword to pierce his mortal body, only one to destroy him where he stood. How had this happened? How—?
And then it came to him.
He remembered his father telling him that he had to make a trade for his position in the House of Lords, and it had to be something very precious to him. Judas didn’t know then what he meant, but now he knew. By all that was evil, he had given his own son! He had literally sacrificed Judas when he was no more than an infant. In return, Satan had made him a lord in his kingdom, and took his mortal son to train as a warrior in Satan’s bloody battlefields as soon as he was old enough.
No one, including his father, bothered to tell him he was mortal.
Judas clutched his stomach as it roiled.
“Father,” he croaked, his voice sore from yelling, “How could you? How could you give your own son over to Satan to gain power and position in Hell? You knew I was mortal, and yet your desire for position eclipsed your love, if indeed you ever had any love for me. Didn’t you think I would find out someday? Did you think I would remain stupid and blind forever?” Anger crept over Judas, slow and dark as he looked up toward the skies. With a growling voice he yelled out, “You may think you have come out of this unscathed, but you will pay for what you’ve done. I don’t know how or when, but it will all come back on you!”
With his wrath spent, and his blood falling down his face, he slowly rose from his knees and searched the room for a cloth to press against his wound. He had only begun looking when he saw something lying close by and narrowed his eyes to see in the darkness. As he watched, slowly the clouds that had covered the moon moved away, and the beauty lying on the pallet was gradually revealed. He hadn’t realized anyone else was there, but as he stared at the blood, and her shredded clothes, he knew this must be Sugar, the woman he had read so much about in her dossier.
She had a wealth of shining white-blonde hair that sparkled as if it were enhanced by stars. Her flawless porcelain skin was marred only by the blood smeared on her face and neck. Her blossom-red lips were lush and inviting. As Judas watched her, he felt a surge of lustful heat stirring inside him.
He pulled his eyes away and looked around the room, seeing it for the first time. It was a typical studio, being filled with large canvasses, some blank, others with ghostly coal-drawn figures. Many were unfinished, but others finished, and at least five deep, leaned against a wall. There were used tubes of paint, palettes, white sheet-like covers thrown haphazardly around the room covering many of the paintings, protecting them from dust motes in the air. Beside the pallet he saw a large tray laden with cheese, fruit, sautéed mushrooms, raw vegetables, and half a bottle of brandy. The thin mattress she lay on was a bit mussed, as if two people had been making love on it. He looked around. Where was the body? He knew immediately that someone must have removed it, but whom?
He shifted his eyes around to see if he was being observed from some dark corner, but saw no one. He then shifted his eyes and looked down at the woman once more. After her kill, her face was sublime, as if she were a sleeping princess in a fairy tale. He longed to touch her softness. Just the idea of what it would be like was enough to make him dizzy. He closed his eyes as he whiffed her enticing fragrance.
His lust grew.
Then he thought of his wound.
His hand flew to his face, finding blood still creeping down his cheek. It felt jagged, as if a taloned hand had swept savagely across his face and scratched it. He looked back down at the sleeping vision and felt another pain, the pain of loss. He couldn’t stay. He’d been wounded in battle and would have to leave.
How can I put her out of my mind? he thought as he gazed down at her. How can I forget about her pale, moon-kissed skin, her lush, begging-to-be-kissed lips?
He shouldn’t feel this way, he couldn’t. She was off-li—and then a thought occurred to him. He was mortal. Only immortals were not allowed to sleep with humans.
No. She was a woman of Earth. She wouldn’t want him, not if she knew his home was deep in the center of the earth, in a black hole called Hell. Regret clutched at his insides. His eyes shifted to her lush lips once more, longing stirring inside him for one kiss before he took his leave, before he left her forever.
He slowly leaned forward, his black, glossy wings embracing them both in an intimate cocoon. His eyes closed in passion as his lips lightly touched hers, giving him a jolt.
They were so cold.
Oh, God, she was dead!
“No!” he cried out. “It can’t be!”
He turned abruptly when hysterical laughter echoed through the rafters.
Death had returned.
“Give her back, you bastard! Release her now, or I will call down all the gods of the black realm upon you!”
A horrible sound like the crackling of ice came out of the night. “Come, Judas. You don’t lust after this one, surely. After all, is she a princess? A goddess? A queen, perhaps? I know you, Judas. You only consort with those of lofty rank. This one may be beautiful, but she is only a human.”
“Give her back, Death, or suffer the consequences.”
“She’s better off dead. This way she will never see your face, never turn away in horror.”
“That doesn’t matter!”
“No? How about when she learns where you come from? Why don’t you have your way with her now? She can’t see you. She’s in the deep sleep of death. I’ll keep her that way until you satisfy the hunger you have in your blood for this one.”
“It’s true I may revile her, but at least I offer her a future. Your best offer is death, a free ticket to a life where her beauty will rot in the ground, along with free passage into a world where there is no redemption.”
“Redemption!” Death said with a harsh laugh. “Redemption is for fools. I do the job I was given to do, and because you are the son of the Demon Lord, there will be no redemption for you either.”
“You are wrong, as usual. No wonder you can’t climb up out of that pit you exist in, Death. My father was good once, and I, through no fault of my own,
am a product of a love that—”
“Love?” Death said with a mocking laugh. “Did you say love? You poor simpleton. Do you think your father loved your mother? He forced her. Just like you will have to do if you ever have this one. Love,” Death scoffed. “Love indeed! Hear this, and hear it well, Son of Darkness. She will be mine. I will—”
“I will hear no more of your stupid arguments!” Judas growled, then lifted his arms toward the sky and began to chant.
“Gods of da—”
“Stop!” Death yelled, remembering the bolt of lightning to his shoulder. After a slight hesitation, his voice dropped to a raspy tone. “All right, I will release her, but I promise you this will be the last time. Nothing in heaven or hell will stop me from taking her when she calls again.” Shifting his eyes toward the dormant figure, he lifted both hands and splayed his skinny, taloned fingers while moving them slowly in front of his face.
“Through time and tide, and thunder roll,
I loose death’s grip upon this soul.
Life comes in where death once reigned
Now death must go and life remain!”
“There,” he said, looking at Judas with contempt. “She’s back.” His eyes narrowed with an evil glitter. “But mark my words, spawn of sin, she will be back within my grasp one day, and when it happens, I will not be so quick to release her again.” With a flamboyant display of magick, Death disappeared, but not before the temperature in the room dropped dramatically, and every surface frosted over with ice.
With life once again flowing through her veins, Sugar stretched lazily on the pallet, a delicate moan escaping her lips. The sound drew Judas, and he walked closer to her, knowing beyond any doubt that there was no way he could leave her now, not with Death hovering so close, looking for an opportunity to take her soul. Reassured that she slept soundly, he backed out of the room, his throbbing head and the blood that covered his face painful reminders of his loss.
As he walked down the stairs, he stopped abruptly and looked around. The air reeked of a stench that smelled like death. Was Death still playing games? No. He knew this smell. It was the foul odor of bestial evil.
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