Caught in the Devils' Hand

by Ruby Duvall

  The witch had gained a great deal of power practically overnight and Shumei was just now discovering it. Her heart was pounding madly in her throat and she had a difficult time looking like nothing was wrong. A villager was approaching on the path, and she tried her hardest to school her face to something resembling normalcy. He passed without comment and she took in a soft but deep gulp of air.

  The miller’s daughter had been found yesterday, her throat slit and hands tied behind her back. Everyone was blaming a sex demon and not a black-haired person for once, but she knew it was no sex demon. That type would have simply taken the girl enough times to last him a month and moved on. He wouldn’t kill a source of energy, and there were signs of a violent rape too.

  Thanks to her experience with Vallen, she knew that sex demons and incubi alike never raped. To do so would kill them. They had to get a real orgasm, one that was desired by the female. It was a way to ensure that the incubus fulfilled his purpose. It was up to other demons to kill humans by violent means. The miller’s daughter had been killed by something else.

  And she was about to enter the murderer’s home.

  She couldn’t be sure that Majo had done it since the witch, as a woman, did not have the right parts to rape another woman, but it was so extremely likely that she would be a big fool not to go in prepared. However, being aware that the witch was dangerous was as prepared as she could get. She had never asked Vallen to tutor her in any sort of defensive magic, with which he claimed to be proficient.

  She never thought she would need it.

  If she were to achieve her goal in the next few minutes, though, what she needed now was courage. Her mind had been feverishly working on a plan that could either be incredibly brave or just plain stupid.

  Now that she had discovered that the witch had upped her magic level, she was thinking that “stupid” was the right word.

  She felt her body trip the alarm spell around Majo’s house and tried to ignore the slimy feeling running down her skin. She stepped forward with a stiff gait, but her spine was straight and tall as she came within a few feet of the door. The door opened, making a small scraping sound as it swung inward, but as she squinted to see inside the dark interior, she gasped to note that the witch stood much farther inside, having opened the door without her hands.

  She hadn’t known that magic could do such a thing.

  “Come inside, child,” the woman said, no longer seducing but commanding, her voice brimming with confidence. Shumei’s guards were up, but as she stepped forward she worried about whether or not they would help her in the slightest.

  The door slowly closed behind her and she confirmed that magic had indeed been the force opening the door when she turned to look behind it. No one stood there. The door scraped against the doorframe as it finally closed completely, shutting them inside the witch’s candlelit world.

  The older woman wore the same robe she had worn a few weeks ago, the one covered with spider webs. She looked very healthy now, her spine straight, her stance graceful and easy, whereas a while ago, she had seemed drawn and sickly.

  The witch smiled slowly, a lust burning in her eyes that Shumei hadn’t been able to see from outside the hut. She tried to not let her fear show, not sure if she was at all successful and her magic shuddered inside her.

  “What did you do?” Shumei fearfully asked the obvious question since it seemed that there would be no pretenses between them. She fought hard not to curl into herself, a physical sign of her fear that she had developed over the last four years. To not do it now required a lot of willpower.

  “Something I have been preparing for nearly fifteen years. It took me that long to find enough information to decipher the writings. I sacrificed a lot to get to this day,” she answered cryptically. Shumei felt her fear congeal inside her chest, a cold weight that stole her breath.

  The witch’s magic, the aura of it, was pressing down on her head, brushing close by her ears as if she were a small animal moving slowly through a field of tall grass. It surrounded her on all sides, touching her, almost as real as drapes hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t soft…it wasn’t like drapes or like grass. It was like a wet, clinging weed, dripping cold, sticky sap onto her skin.

  “Please have a seat, dear. I have some tea you might want to try. It’s made with special tea leaves from the city of Houfu,” she winked knowingly, turning toward the chest in the corner of the room. Shumei didn’t move…couldn’t. She didn’t want to know what it felt like to walk through the hanging, wet vines of the witch’s magic.

  The witch knelt slowly, producing a key from the inside of her black robe, and the lock on the chest opened with a heavy snap. She watched unabashedly as the lid came up, and her eyes widened as she noticed a black object sitting inside. It was sitting on top of the bag of money, and the witch lifted it slightly to free her money pouch.

  The black object was a book and in a flicker of candlelight that flared at just the right angle, at just the right second, she saw half of a huge handprint on the cover, the rest covered up by the witch’s arm as she tried to hide her actions from the room. The color of the handprint was only slightly lighter than the black-on-black of the cover. It had a strange gleam to it, the texture unlike the books on the shelves above the witch’s head, but before she could examine it any further, it was once again sitting inside the chest and Majo’s hand fished into the pouch for Shumei’s payment.

  She had her confirmation, one that she never thought she’d get, but it was true. The witch had the Devil’s Hand. She felt her fear shrink a bit as her desperation rose, knowing that the book secured within that chest held Vallen’s cure. She had to get it.

  Finally taking the witch’s advice, she made her way toward her usual spot and visibly grimaced at the slimy feel of Majo’s magic clinging to her, very much like the wet vines she had earlier described. Sitting on the witch’s sleeping mat with her feet out, she left her shoes on.

  She wasn’t going to take them off today.

  She set out the plants that Majo had ordered and quickly slung her bag back over her head, keeping her hands free. If the witch noticed that she hadn’t removed her shoes, she didn’t say anything, nor did she even look at the younger girl’s feet as she came to sit on her usual cushion.

  Majo didn’t bother to examine the delivery this time and simply held out her hand, which was fisted around the fee. Shumei brought her own hand up as well, glad that it wasn’t shaking, and watched as twice the usual amount was dumped into her hand. She gasped, wondering what game the witch was playing at now.

  She should’ve guessed.

  “You can have all of that…if you kiss me, Shumei,” the older woman bargained, leaning close. She snatched her hand back and couldn’t stop herself from leaning away, maintaining the distance between them.

  “I cannot do that, madam,” she quietly responded, keeping her words and tone polite to avoid upsetting the woman, if she could. Her answer was upsetting enough though. The witch sneered, returning to a straight position.

  “Why? You allowed me two kisses before. You even let me touch those young breasts of yours. Why not now? I am offering you money, just as precious as a bit of information, isn’t it?” she said scathingly. Shumei swallowed heavily, seeing that the witch’s temper was already very short.

  “I will not take your money,” she replied, realizing immediately that it wasn’t a well-thought-out answer. After all, she was still holding the offered payment in her fist.

  “Then information. What do you want to know, Shumei? Ask the question, let me kiss you and I shall answer,” the woman pressed, leaning close again.

  “Why? Why do you desire my kiss, madam? You have already taken a girl younger and much more willing than me to your bed,” she asked. Majo froze, the look of longing on her face falling a bit as the mildest hint of angry surprise flashed onto her features. Shumei felt her gut tense as she watched the older woman’s face slowly morph into a stiff-jawed, angry mask. She
had just baited the woman and there was no going back now.

  It would escalate from here…

  “What did you say?” the witch asked, and Shumei jerked when the invisible magic vines seemed to grow, sliding down past her shoulders and pooling in loops and curls on her lap.

  “The miller’s daughter. I saw her leave your home. I saw you kiss her,” she explained, trying to find some confidence and brace her spine with it. Her magic seemed to react to the other woman’s magic—she wasn’t sure, but she felt the warmth of it spread, filling a larger space inside her tummy. The witch remained silent, probably a bit unsure of what to say next. Shumei decided for her.

  “You’re the one who killed her, aren’t you? You did something to her that gave you the power you have now.” Her magic swelled upward, burning away the fear in her chest, and she felt her heart pound with adrenaline. “The only thing I don’t understand is the rape. You don’t have the equipment to rape her,” she declared, feeling her magic expand even more. Its power gave her courage.

  “You little bitch,” Majo hissed, her hands tightening into something like claws. “I should have bewitched you the last time I kissed you.” The witch began to lean forward, and Shumei felt every slimy vine in the room swing toward her, as if she was the center of gravity in the room.

  They were targeting her.

  “Who did it then?” she said, ignoring the imminent signs of violence. “Who raped the miller’s daughter if it wasn’t you?”

  “It was me, you ignorant brat,” the witch spat, pausing in mid-lean. Her face was no longer the calm, confident beauty from just a few moments ago. It was a mask of anger and spite, contorting the older woman’s features into the face of hate. “The one I called upon has honored me by using my body. He sits within me even now!” she boasted, obviously proud. “When it came time to perform the ritual, he entered me and took the offered sacrifice as was his right as the King of Oblivion!”

  The witch began to move forward again and Shumei hastily stood up, somehow feeling lighter than usual. Her magic had begun to spread to her four limbs and she felt strangely buoyant.

  “I am, as you say madam, ignorant. I still do not understand how he hurt the miller’s daughter in such a way if he were using your body.” Seeing that Shumei had moved away, the witch put one foot under herself and began to stand.

  “The Dark One, in his generosity, gave me so much more than I could ever give him. He gave me ten times the magic I had before, fluency in a language I couldn’t learn from anyone living and the ability to be whatever gender suited me, for he knew of my very open sexuality. He now knows me better than anyone ever has or ever will!” she cried out, pulling at the belt of her gown, half-ripping it in her maddened frenzy.

  Shumei would have watched with horror before as the witch flung open her dress, but the press of her magic from within pushed out any fear she might have felt. It was like sunshine trying to burst from her skin, like the roar of a bonfire raging through her veins. She felt safe, calm and even confident. She watched the witch with pity rather than with fear. A whoosh of air passed by her ears, but it was more than that this time. Her hair was lifted off her shoulders, her treasured dress billowed around her ankles and the buoyancy from before was lifting her onto her toes.

  The witch shrugged her dress from her shoulders, and Shumei heard the faint clink of the key within the older woman’s dress as it hit the wooden floor too. Majo then widened her stance, cupped one hand around her own breast and used the other to spread her sex. She watched, almost expecting it, as a male organ pushed out from the witch’s spread lips. The penis was black, befitting the typical imagery of the Dark One’s genitalia, thicker and longer than a human female could possibly handle.

  “So you see, dear child,” the witch said softly, “I can satisfy you. I can do more than that sex demon you’ve been lying with. Oh yes,” she smiled, seeing the widening of the younger woman’s eyes, “I knew about him. From the way you scream, he must be very good, indeed.”

  “Why me? Why me, Madam Majo?” she asked in an even tone, being polite in order to stall just a bit longer. She felt her toes come off the floor, just an inch or two.

  “You are far, far more important to the world than you know, Shumei,” the witch said, her voice sounding bitter. “I am jealous of your luck. If I can’t be in your place, then I’ll take the opposite place.”

  Her eyebrows slanted down in confusion. She knew the witch was being vague on purpose.

  “Now that I have done so, the Dark One commands me to make you ours, to bring you to his side. There is far more pleasure and power within the arms of the Dark One than within the arms of the Divine One. Far more,” she purred, touching the new limb she had just sprouted.

  Shumei’s body was pouring out heat, but she didn’t feel sweaty or uncomfortable. The heat pushed back the vines of Majo’s magic, repelling them, and the air was clear and breezy around her.

  “And what is my place, madam? What are we to each other?”

  “Don’t think of what we are now. Think of what we can be to each other. Lovers, powerful on our own and unstoppable as a pair,” the witch supplicated. Shumei felt anger for the first time since she had entered the witch’s hut. This was the woman who had killed dozens of her fellow villagers, including her mother. She was the one who had framed Vallen, who had killed the miller’s daughter in such a painful, cruel way, and now she wouldn’t even give Shumei a straight answer.

  “I will never be your lover, no matter how many extra limbs you sprout. You’re still disgusting,” she flung out, hoping that the insult met its target. By the sneer that melted onto Majo’s face, she knew it had. The witch’s hands became fists, and she watched with surprise as the older woman’s extra appendage drew back inside her body.

  “I knew it. I knew that as my opposite, you wouldn’t yield.”

  “For the last time, who am I?!” she commanded. Majo smiled wickedly, her face twisted with evil.

  “My enemy,” she replied.

  The witch sprung at her with a shrill scream, and the slimy vines stabbed at Shumei, slicing through the wall of heat that was keeping them at bay. Several of them were burned away before they could penetrate very far, but the largest and thickest vine was still coming at her full speed, like a great spear. The world slowed down again, as she knew to expect, and there was a low-pitched humming noise, the same noise she had heard before. She felt as if she were moving much too slowly, but her body turned with her punch, her muscles bunched, and she knew she would be hitting hard by the strain in her waist.

  The heat of magic in her right arm was intense and she felt rather like her arm was three times larger than normal. Her eyes watched as the hateful face of the witch came closer, her nudity adding to her frightening appearance, but Shumei’s face was set with determination as she brought her right fist forward.

  It seemed as if the punch connected with Majo’s chest, but she saw that her fist was still at least four inches from any real contact. Pain passed over the older woman’s face along with disbelief and she felt the strongest of the witch’s vines finally reach her, slowly slicing across the top of her shoulder. The pain was slow and burning, but it wasn’t fatal, though she did grimace.

  The world slammed into real time again and the air swished around her in a tight spiral as Majo was punched away. The witch hit the back wall of her home very hard, and she heard the sickening crack of the woman’s skull hitting a beam before she flopped down to the floor.

  She took in a great gulp of air and realized that she had been holding it for those precious seconds that had saved her life. She tenderly reached up to touch the wound on her shoulder, hissing as she came in contact with exposed muscle, and her fingers came back covered in blood.

  A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her. She felt herself swaying and nearly fell down, barely catching herself by putting one foot back. It was so severe that, for a split second, she seriously considered taking a quick nap on the witch’s sleep
ing mat. She shook her head, though, willing herself to stay standing, stay on guard. She wasn’t out of the worst of it yet.

  The witch’s body was very still on the floor, but she could make out the slightest rise and fall of the older woman’s back as she breathed. She was still alive.

  She could end it now. Though she didn’t understand it, she knew somewhere deep inside that she had to kill Majo. It wasn’t just because the woman was dangerous, probably insane…it was somehow her duty, her destiny to kill this woman.

  Her mind rebelled against this feeling though. It wasn’t natural to want to kill someone, or to even rationalize a reason to do so. She would be as evil as Majo if she killed the witch while she was helpless on the ground.

  A choked noise escaped her throat—fear, desperation and mostly confusion. She rushed forward to rummage through the discarded robe on the floor, realizing that she had to hurry. Quickly locating the key, she scrambled over to the chest in the corner, and after a bit of fumbling, she heard the lock snap open and flung back the lid. Her shoulder was starting to sting and her head was swimming, but she pushed aside the amazingly heavy pouch of kols and pulled out the book she had been seeking.

  It was heavier than she would have guessed, and the cover wasn’t just made of leather or any other ordinary material. It was hard and almost glassy. Her fingers came away blackened from just touching it, like it was made of coal. The page edges were dirty and uneven, looking almost as if they had been burnt down to the correct size for a book. She hesitantly fanned out her fingers, fitting her hand to the one on the cover, and her mouth fell open when she saw that her hand was almost half the size of the handprint. Snatching her hand back, she hastily pulled open the flap on her medicine bag and shoved the book inside, securing it there with a grimy string meant to keep the flap closed.