Demon's Kiss

by Laura Hawks

  The wolf starred at his retreating back until the door closed with such force it knocked the picture frames off the wall. She gasped for breath, rubbing her neck as she stayed in the crumpled pile she landed in, shifting only slightly to draw into herself more. She hated him. She hated this existence she found herself living day to day and wished he had ended it as he was so wanted to do but just a moment ago. She had never seen anything like him and for once, he actually scared her. Not that he would kill her but of his true demon essence, his true visage, the sound of his voice echoed around the room in his fury.

  She had pushed him hard before but never as much to have caused this kind of a reaction. If nothing else, she realized she was nothing to him. She had not touched any part of him and for some stupid, foolish, unknown reason, this was what hurt worst of all. So she had to harden herself, again. Push out what she foolishly let in, him. Learn what she needed. Get the stone. Get on with what little life she had. Only right now, she did not move from the heaped ball she was in on the mattress

  Chapter Eight

  Azamel flashed to his secret room as soon as he left her. The snarling beast within needed to be free and Mel always retreated to this private place where the demon could lash out without Mel hurting anyone he might truly miss. As soon as he entered the chamber, Mel dropped his guard and allowed his true visage to form. He hated this part of himself. He detested that his parentage took over. The demon always punished Mel for being forced into submission. Mel lay on the floor and let the guttural growling demon take his anger out on him.

  The creature transformed Mel’s body, ripped through his flesh in a way that would inflict the most pain as it was torn apart. While the demon clawed his way out, blood splattered, marring the walls and mixing with older stains. The pain was excruciating and Mel’s screams echoed throughout the realm, the agonized sounds piercing in their intensity. The cries were eventually drowned by the deep, demonic laughter of the creature as he finally tore himself from the body that served as his host. Azamel’s essence remained but as long as the beast was loose Mel could feel but was powerless to do anything other than wait out the storm.

  Lost in her own self-pity, Clarissa did not realize she was hearing anything but her own heartbeat. Then slowly, the sounds of agony and pain, of untold screams of horror pieced through her revelry. She was going to ignore it. After all, how Azamel got his jollies was his concern not hers and he made it perfectly clear she was to stay out of his business. What he ate, what he was, anything and everything about him she was not to know. ‘Then again, the tone, the pitch, was that? No. It could not be, could it? Was that Mel was screaming in such distress?’

  Climbing off the bed, she headed out the door of her room and tried to follow the sound. She soon realized that she needed her alternate form if she was ever going to track down his whereabouts for the sound reverberated too much for her to find him otherwise. She called upon her shifters powers, let her white fur sprout from her skin, her nose elongated, her ears and teeth grew and became pointed.

  She bent over to all fours and swished the tail she now had. The wolf bent down and used her nose to follow his scent. His occasionally loud cries guided her when his odor became too confusing to follow. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming and she had to concentrate on his unique scent to continue. It led her down corridors that were dark and dank, passage ways that seemed to be honed out of the earth itself. The sounds became more prominent, the torment more piercing as she approached a sealed door. The emanations came from inside but she saw no way in. She transformed back to her human visage. She called to him through the wall, wondered if he would even hear her or could answer.

  “Azamel? Azamel! Tell me how to get in. Let me help you!” The answer she received was more shrieking. She took her hands and searched the entrance, looked for a way to open it, pounded her fists against the roughhewn rock.

  Having not been inside she could not flash in, or she might flash into someone or something. She heard the demon voice that had threatened her life, wanted to tear her to shreds. She realized that the demon Mel warned her was inside of him had gotten out. Mel was paying the price. She knelt by the room and softly talked to Azamel doubtful he would even hear her.

  “Mel. Let me help. Let me in. Allow me help you fight this demon of yours. Azamel, tell me what I can do. Please Mel, let me help.”

  *****

  Days passed and Clarissa spent every moment at that spot outside the room Azamel was holed up in. She did not eat, barely slept. Yeah, cause she could really sleep with that horrific sound of agony constantly piercing her eardrums.

  She chatted to Mel, talked to the beast, though in most cases, she felt as if she were just soliloquizing. Clarissa ignored the demon that conversed back to her, threatening to eat her entrails in disgustingly poignant details that churned her stomach, hence the not eating. It knew she was there, wanted her and wanted out. Still she stayed as close to Mel’s side as she could. Even though he might not want her there, to know this part of him existed, to see or in this case, hear him, she refused to leave him alone.

  She could not help but she refused to go, regardless of how long this lasted. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had suffered like this many times in the past. For once, he was not going to go through this alone. She would be here and when he finally emerged, she would help him or he could tell her to go screw herself. Either way, she was not going to leave him until he appeared from the room.

  For days, the beast clamored and tried to break free from the chamber it was imprisoned in. When his anger was finally sated he reluctantly retreated. Azamel was able to obtain control again and healed his shredded body enough to consider leaving the chamber. Yet, it still took two additional days for Mel’s body to knit itself together into some semblance of a human form. Bruises and horrific scars dissected his skin. It would heal eventually as it always did. Azamel was weak more so than he had been in an extremely long time.

  The demon was slumbering once more, his fury spent. The room was eerily still, like a tomb that had been forgotten over the years. The air musty and thick, condensation clung to any inanimate objects it found. The yearning was a constant and palpable ache deep within Mel’s being. It was a need unfulfilled, which was maddening since for ages all his desires had been achieved with a mere thought. All except the need to be free of this beast and what would happen if he ever became too weak to control him. For centuries that was all Mel desired and focused on, controlling the beast and finding the sustenance he needed to achieve that control. However, after practically an eternity of near omnipotence, Azamel finally felt something else missing in his existence.

  It was once long, long ago that he did have needs and wants, though these lessened with the passage of time. His family’s lineage was the guardians of these creatures whose original, primitive, physical forms were despised more than any others. A creature so vile, none would speak of them or their true nature. The creature Mel was required to host as a result, was Azamel’s curse which he had to bear. Mel’s passions and lasciviousness were quelled over the centuries of control and he became immune to the suffering as well as the cares of others by closing his heart to anything other than his job. However as he laid on the floor trying to mend himself enough to actually leave the chamber, he could not help but think, once, just once in his entire existence someone would be waiting for him. That someone had blond hair and eyes so fantastically green that they sparkled with an inner light.

  Mel threw the last thought aside with revulsion. The memory of his origin was a source of repulsion that he would have expelled long ago if it were not for the fact that the demon would never let him forget that he was there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the chance to break free. Mel was not usually given to emotion but he felt a wave of annoyance, curiosity and then even nostalgia. He mulled over what could possibly be amiss in his place through eternity. Surely he could find some inner peace? Surely he deserved someone to care for him afte
r all the centuries of his servitude? The judge shook his head to dispel the image and got up. His broken body protested at the effort to move. With weakened knees, he made his way out of the enclosure only to almost fall over the still form outside the door.

  Moving with the swiftness of her werewolf linage, Clarissa caught him as he almost fell over her. “Mel!”

  She wrapped an arm about him gently and teleported him to the quarters he had assigned her.

  Gently, she laid him onto the bed. Holding her hands out, she closed her eyes and let a soft blue light emit from them, ameliorating him. He was too strong, too powerful and far too wounded to heal him completely. She was much too young to harness the intensity it would take to wholly meliorate him but she could help ease the worse of his condition. The wolf desired desperately to inquire as to what happened, what occurred behind those doors, why he looked as bad as he did but she knew he would not tell her and probably only get upset that she asked, so she remained quiet. Once she rehabilitated him as much as she could, she obtained a bowl of warm water and a towel to gently wash him.

  “Are you hungry? I can call Shara or whatever her name is to get you what you need to eat.”

  Images flickered through Mel’s mind as memories of the past and the present ran through his head. He tried to examine his emotions, realize that it was the driving force for most of his actions of late. When he got angry, he warred against those who infuriated him. Love, affection and nurturing were nuances he did not understand. Her gentle care of his wounds both confused and scared him. How could a creature such as he ever expect any affection such as that which she now bestowed on him?

  Mel’s everyday life was filled with conflict. Disputes were settled with violence. Adversity was omnipresent in his world. He saw creatures who embraced the joys of life when times were good. Although ardor drove much of this positive behavior, there was something else that lay at its foundation. It was the need to give, an act of unselfish charity. Some called it love.

  Azamel had omnipotence and infinite knowledge but he could not share his life with anybody. He could not help or guide anyone when it came to love. What was missing in his life went beyond mere loneliness. He was used to being lonely, used to walking solitarily. He sometimes had the need to give of himself but there was no one to give to. He turned his head to hers, his eyes barely opened. He was weak like he had not been in centuries.

  “Call Shara, I need sustenance.” He turned his head back and closed his eyes to rest while he waited.

  She heard his request and immediately called for Shara. As soon as the woman appeared, Clarissa told her to bring Mel’s nutritional requirement for him. Once the servant retreated to procure the necessary comestibles, Clarissa gently propped up Mel with pillows so he would be able to take what he needed without hindrance and then continued to wash him gently.

  “I am sorry I cannot heal you more but when I regain some of my powers again, I will give you another healing boost. Shara is on her way with your food.”

  She wiped the cool towel across his brow but paused as Shara came back. Knowing this was something else he considered private, performed without her hanging around, she put the towel and water aside. “I will be right outside while you eat.” Nodding towards the other woman, Clarissa slipped out the door and leaned against the wall, her arms folded. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts and emotions.

  She was doing it again. She felt compassion for him, concern. Why did he continue to worm his way into her soul when she should care nothing for him and all his secrets? Still, he was a creature who suffered and she never would turn her back on that. This time it was more than that. He had done a lot for her and she cared about him. Hell, if she were truthful, she knew she was in love with him. Banging her head against the wall, she frowned as she realized she was a glutton for punishment and heartache.

  Mel followed Clarissa with his eyes as she left the room, puzzled as to why she retired so easily. He was so weak that she could have exploited any desire to remain and retrieve the answers he knew she was curious to secure. He allowed Shara to raise the goblet to his lips and let the sustenance he so desperately needed flow into his mouth. With each drop that slipped past his throat, he felt some of his strength return but only after the third helping did he feel a semblance of the humanity he desperately wished to have. With a curt nod, he dismissed the servant.

  Shara silently moved to the door but paused just before she was about to exit. “Is she worth it? Is she worth what you are doing to yourself?”

  Mel spoke slowly, enunciated every word, his tone deadly, “You forget your place, Shara.”

  Shara knew that inflection, the soft dangerous voice that normally preceded dismemberment and death. “Forgive me, my Lord. I am merely concerned for your well-being.” Keeping her head down, she exited the room.

  Sighing wearily, Mel closed his eyes as he felt the nourishment flow through his body. He hated weakness in any form, especially in front of his servants. But he also realized she had a valid point. Shara had been with him for eons. Her servitude was impeccable. Never had she questioned his orders or what he did until now. Why did Clarissa open his heart? How did she touch a part of him that had been extinct so long he was sure it was dead, buried and turned to dust? His heart ached for her. A muscle he thought only pumped his cold blood through his veins. He found himself wondering what it would be like to have her by his side throughout the otherwise lonely, monotonous days. Was she worth it? He wished to the seven hells he knew.

  Clarissa saw Shara as the woman left the room and gave her an odd look as she passed by the wolf. The guardian shrugged it off. She understood Shara might not appreciate her being here and in truth could not care what the female thought. She did not care much for nosy help who ransacked her personal items earlier either, so the feeling of distrust and disdain were mutual. Clarissa’s concern was not Shara but the man that was lying inside. Slipping in, she shut the door behind her and headed back to one side of the bed. Seeing his eyes were closed, she proceeded quietly to let him rest. Moving a chair near the bed, she curled up into it and rested her head on the protruding corner of the wing-backed chair. She started to take his hand in hers and caught herself. ‘What the devil got into me?’ She folded her arms and shut her eyes, reposed as well. Once rejuvenated, she would be able to mend him a bit more. Opening her eyes again, she made sure he was comfortably tucked in and then settled herself back down by his side. At least this time there was no stone wall between them and no snarling demon threatening to rip her to shreds and play with her innards before he ate them.

  Chapter Nine

  After a long, fitful night, Mel opened his eyes to a cold room. The fire in the hearth had died and the chill was evident. He willed the fire to start again and within minutes the room was warm and comfortable once more. As he turned his head, he spotted her curled up in a chair fast asleep. The executioner laid there for a very long time just watching her. Shame, guilt, remorse and many other unmentionable emotions ran through him.

  She aided him even after what she beheld, who she observed he could become. It was humbling yet frightening. No one other than Shara had ever seen the monster and he knew the fear in her gaze every time he got irate. Mel manifested a blanket and covered her. The movement caused her eyelids to flutter open. Time suspended as they both just stared at each other. Azamel finally managed to speak despite his parched throat, “How did you find me?”

  She heard the dry crackle of his voice and generated a glass of water as she moved over to him. “At first I followed the screams. When I could no long distinguish from which way they came, I shifted to wolf and used my nose to follow your scent.” She tapped the side of her facial protrusion. “Wolves have really, really good sniffers. I feel stronger again today. I can help you heal a bit more.”

  ‘Fuck! I never thought that room would ever be found.’ He laid back and closed his eyes for a moment, his mind whirling with what she must have seen and heard. He shook his head slowly.
“I just need to rest more. I need to get to my chambers.” Mel tried to rise from the mattress.

  “Let me try and improve your health a bit more. Let me help.” She blocked his way and gently pushed him back to the bed. “Sheesh, you make a worse patient than a doctor.” She held her hands out over his bruised and torn body once again, able to improve the majority of bruises and ease the bulk of his pain before she had to pull away. Turning her back to him, she knew he wanted to escape her presence, so she started to busy herself with folding the blanket up that he had covered her with and brought the chair back to its original location.

  Feeling much restored, he slowly got up and moved to stand behind her. His hand hovered over her shoulder, almost touching but not quite. After a long pause, he dropped his hand and turned towards the exit. He had never felt this vulnerable or exposed to anyone in his entire existence and he was lost as how to proceed. “I- I’m sorry,” his words were barely audible as he moved to the door.

  Her head popped up and she looked at his retreating posterior. “Sorry, for what?” Clarissa stepped closer to him, unsure how near to get. Not because she was scared of him but because she was uncertain how far she could push him. Skeptical of what he felt towards her if anything. She was hesitant of everything that consisted of him. He did not scare her. She may not have seen his true visage but she heard it for days on end. She took another hesitant step towards him. “Sorry cause I got a taste of what you really are inside? Okay, I cannot truly say I have seen worse but, so what? I still stood or laid or sat by your side and guess what? I did not care other than you were suffering and I could not help. Or are you sorry because I cannot fully heal you all at once, even though I am using what power I have to do what I can?” She shrugged. “I am sorry I am so young and cannot heal you completely at one sitting. I do what I can and hope it’s enough. Sorry that I have seen you weak for a change? Well guess what? It’s nice to see you are vulnerable and not just an aggressive cocky omnipotent being. So do not be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”