As it was, the next twenty hours were going to be rough.
10:02 A.M.
The demon who called herself Isra sighed and stretched her new arms over her head. Great Lucifer, it felt good to be out. She padded barefoot across the hardwood floors and cranked up the air-conditioning. The cool breeze blew across her bare skin, causing goose bumps to rise up and her nipples to tighten. There was nothing on Earth quite like modern air-conditioning. Whatever punishment Hell would hand out if she returned from her quest unsuccessful would be worth it if just to experience AC for a few short hours.
That, of course, was only if she returned.
She had less than twenty-four hours to capture a man’s soul and extend her time on Earth. She had until sunrise the next morning, to be exact. If she failed, it was back to the fiery depths. She’d be assigned some miserable task to teach her a lesson. But if she were to conjure an incubus and pass along the immortal’s essence, when she did return to Hell, perhaps her success would earn her a more glorious place amongst the demonic masses. A man’s soul was simply a token. A day pass to stay on Earth a little longer. But the soul of the oldest immortal warrior was something else entirely.
Isra walked through the small and far too feminine apartment in search of a full-length mirror. She supposed some people might find floral fabrics and glass knickknacks comforting, but even an angel would turn up their nose at this place.
"No one asked your opinion, honey."
Isra smiled as her host, Camille, fought into her consciousness. The real Camille’s soul was buried deep within her. She could feel her pure spirit spiraling in her gut. It frankly made her nauseated. It wouldn’t last long, though. Even a pure spirit would corrupt in time. Once they shared the rush of seducing a man and stealing his soul, they would be addicted to it. The voices in her head would no longer plea for mercy, but urge her on so they could ride the surge they both craved.
Defaming her host was almost as much fun as sucking out a man’s soul. Almost. She scanned the picture frames and lace curtains with distain. Breaking this one would be especially delicious.
"You’re not gonna break me." Camille spoke boldly with a distinctly southern accent. Georgia, maybe. The sassy belle acted as though she had the slightest clue who she was really dealing with.
Isra laughed and kicked a pillow that had slipped onto the floor. It slammed into a shelf and tipped over a cherub statue, breaking off its head. "You have no idea what you’re in for."
"I’m not going to let you hurt anyone."
"You don’t exactly have a choice, darling. What I do, you do. So get used to it. Where’s a damn mirror in this place?"
The responding silence only seemed to fuel Isra’s irritation. Going to pout, was she? Isra walked over to the far wall and pulled an old family portrait off the wall. She held it up, seconds from letting it fall to the ground with a crash of broken glass.
"On the back of the closet door."
That was more like it. She sat the picture down on the kitchen counter and went in search of the mirror. Upon entering the bedroom, she scowled at the pink and yellow patchwork quilt on the bed. There were ivory eyelet pillowcases. It didn’t exactly scream seductress. She had a lot of work to do before Seth arrived.
The mirror caught the corner of her eye.
The mortal’s body that reflected back at her was adequate, although she wasn’t quite certain what was special enough to get Seth’s attention. The blonde strands of her hair were straight and long enough to tickle the middle of her bare back. It framed the almond-shaped eyes that she was certain had been a clear blue at one time. Now they were a deep rose color that would deepen to blood red as her prey’s soul was absorbed into her.
Isra leaned in towards the mirror and cursed. A faint sprinkle of freckles crossed her nose and cheeks. She had fucking freckles. She might as well put her hair in pigtails and dress as a naughty schoolgirl to lure Seth to his death. Freckles. She should’ve done more research before she chose a host, but her source had insisted Camille was the one.
"A lot of men like them, you know."
"Yes, I’m sure you’ve taken a wide survey, Camille. At least, oh, three men?" Isra laughed until she spied a teddy bear propped up in the corner and a thought struck her silent. "You’re not a virgin are you?" She said the words with utter disgust.
"No."
"Thank the Dark Lord," she sighed. Oh well. Freckles aside, she still had plenty to work with. Her gaze was drawn down her flat belly to the curve of her hips that tapered into shapely legs. Even without heels, her legs were great. Stockings and a garter belt might be pointless. They looked even better bare. Isra turned to eye the curve of her ass. Her host was either very lucky or spent a great deal of time working out.
"I live on the elliptical machines at the gym."
"Ah, we have those in Hell. Right next to the Iron Maiden and the Rack."
Isra turned back to the mirror, watching the gentle sway of her breasts as she moved. They were high and full. She cupped them in her hands and admired their weight before crushing the nipples between her thumb and forefinger. The pleasure-pain shot through her and sent a throb straight to her sex.
Her host squirmed uncomfortably inside her, but Isra could tell Camille enjoyed it, even if she wouldn’t admit to it. "Soon enough," she assured her aching body. Seth would come soon. She’d already tempted him with an erotic dream. Tapping into his mind had been easier than she’d thought. Michael’s immortals were arrogant and lazy. They believed they were untouchable and therefore didn’t take the proper precautions to keep their minds secure. He was near enough to feel the sexual pull luring him to her like a magnet. If he was any good at his job, he would know that he was walking into a trap. But she had no doubt he would arrive any moment, nonetheless.
And when he did, the new and improved Camille would be ready for him with a scenario designed to throw him off his game.
10:53 A.M.
Seth didn’t bother to knock. The door was ajar when he approached, so he gently pushed it open and slipped silently into Camille’s apartment. As he closed the door behind him, he was almost tempted to check and make sure he had the right place. Although he’d never made it over the threshold, last night the space had been open and cheerful. Lace curtains and floral fabrics. Feminine. Very much Camille, his Southern belle.
Now, it wouldn’t take an appearance from Michael to alert him that something was terribly wrong.
He urged his eyes to quickly adjust to the darkness. The windows were covered in red fabric, giving an eerie cast to the candlelit room. There were a hundred candles scattered over every flat surface. The floor was covered with rose petals. The trail led through the living room and to the bedroom door, which was shut.
The air was scented with Camille’s perfume. Seth wasn’t sure what she wore, exactly, but it suited her well, and he could recognize it in an instant. He took a deep whiff of the spicy scent as it tickled his nose and noticed it was intermingled with another smell. He took another breath to confirm his suspicions —— pumpkin pie.
Modern research had only recently discovered what female demons had always known —— men were aroused by certain smells, and it wasn’t any of the ones you’d find at a department store cologne counter. Pumpkin, lavender, licorice...all scents that aroused men and indicated a succubus was close by.
He sat still against the wall, scanning for movement, but found only illusions of motion from the flickering flames. Not wanting to wait, he reached into his holster and pulled out a syringe with a cocktail of Lorazepam and Haldol. Whatever happened over the next few hours, it couldn’t happen here. If the succubus realized she couldn’t seduce her victim, she would turn on him, screaming for help until someone else rescued her. She would fall, traumatized, into her savior’s arms and in turn, they would become her next victim.
Camille needed to be taken someplace where no one could hear her screams. Sedation was absolutely necessary for that to happen smoothly.
> Seth slipped the syringe into his coat pocket and slowly made his way along the rose petal path to the bedroom door. Unlike some demons that would attack or assault their prey, a succubus had no reason to threaten their victims. They wanted them to feel safe and aroused, like putty in their hands.
On the other side of the door would not be a winged, cloven-hoofed demon, but an intoxicating woman ready to let him do anything he wanted to her. She might be nude or dressed in some enticing lingerie. Her hair would be down, her cheeks flushed with sexual excitement. She might even be touching herself in anticipation of his arrival.
An unprepared man wouldn’t stand a chance.
Seth pressed his ear to the door as his hand gripped the knob. He could hear music inside. It was a low, slow, erotic sort of song with a pulsating beat that mimicked a natural sexual rhythm. She was good. Even he had to admit to the slightest stirring of longing within him, and he hadn’t even opened the door yet.
It would only get worse from here. Camille would be on the other side of the door. At least, a demon wearing Camille like a suit. The succubus had laid the groundwork for her seduction with that fantastically erotic dream. She’d laid the trap and need only wait for him to walk into it.
He took a deep breath and pulled his Saint Patroclus medal out. He kissed it for luck, then tucked it back into his shirt as he threw open the door. Seth was only slightly surprised to find Camille lying on the bed, although he hadn’t anticipated her to be fully clothed and bound with duct tape. Her arms were pulled behind her, her ankles wrapped together. He’d have to thank the demon for doing some of his work for him.
Her eyes grew wide in surprise when she saw him, and then glassy with tears as she screamed at him through the panties stuffed into her mouth. The succubus had done her homework. She knew an immortal warrior of Michael’s would jump at the chance to save a beautiful, young girl from the clutches of Satan. Seth’s heart ached at the sight of Camille bound up, but fought the urge to rush in and rescue her. That’s just what she wanted him to do.
He compromised, and against his better judgment yanked the underwear from her mouth and tossed it to the bedroom floor.
"Seth, thank goodness you’re here." It was Camille’s voice, her accent, her expressions. She seemed genuinely frightened. "You’ve got to stop her. She’s hiding in the closet."
This was going to be harder than he thought. Camille’s tearful eyes threatened to rip his guts up. He forced himself to take a deep breath and ignore her. It wasn’t Camille crying. It was the demon. Seth should’ve let the panties stay, but he didn’t want the real Camille to suffocate. Instead he reached into his pocket and knelt down beside her.
"Untie me so we can get out of here." Her expression was so genuine. If it wasn’t for the pinkish tint of her irises, he’d question himself. This demon was very, very good. She was playing to his need to be a hero, hoping he’d rescue her, then take her away and ravage her without hesitation. Honestly, he wanted to. She had no idea how badly he wanted to have her. But he knew better. Camille’s life and Seth’s mortality were riding on him being successful.
"We’re getting out of here alright." Without warning, he thrust the needle into her upper arm and injected the sedative. As he withdrew the syringe, the expression on Camille’s face crumbled before his eyes. In a flash, she went from innocent and fearful to devious and amused.
"That won’t stop me," she laughed, her voice morphing from Camille’s to the deep, sexy tones of the succubus.
"No, but it will make it a lot easier for me to dump you in the back of my van."
Camille’s brow furrowed for a moment as she processed his words, but it appeared to be increasingly difficult for her. She opened her mouth to say something, but the sedative started to work its magic. Instead, her head dropped to the bed and the rest of her body went limp. Her seductive spell fell apart as she lost her ability to concentrate —— the music suddenly quieted, the candles and rose petals vanished. In an instant, the apartment was transformed back to the place he’d always known as Camille’s home —— like a layout in an issue of Southern Living magazine.
Within a minute, her eyes closed and her breathing became soft and rhythmic. Seth reached forward and felt her neck for a pulse. It was low and slow, just as it should be. He capped the syringe and tossed it into the wastebasket as he went back out to the hallway and retrieved a large, rolling travel bag for golf clubs.
Without hesitation, he unzipped the bag and carefully placed Camille inside. She was a petite woman. He only had to bend her knees ever so slightly to fit her into the large bag. The zipper remained open a few inches at the top to allow for air.
Seth carried the bag down the flight of stairs with great care, as though his very expensive clubs were inside. He passed a neighbor in the lobby as he went out, and the man smiled at the sight of the bag.
"A beautiful day for golf," he mentioned.
"I only wish I’d gotten an earlier start." Seth returned his smile and slipped past him to the street. His van was parked along the curb halfway up the block. It was the style favored by contractors and only had front and rear windows. Affectionately referred to has his Kidnapping Van, it allowed no one to see what was going on inside.
He opened the back doors and gently loaded the bag inside. For good measure, he unzipped it further to fully expose her face to the air, then slammed the doors shut and climbed into the driver’s seat.
For an exorbitant fee, Seth rented a former military bunker in New Jersey to do his work. Across the river on the outskirts of an industrial complex was a warehouse that sat on a large parcel of property. It was currently owned by some Italian gentleman with questionable business practices, but it was gated and monitored with surveillance equipment. Exactly what he needed, although he didn’t want to know why they had ever needed it.
He had absolutely no reason to need a warehouse of course, but the usefulness of the facility was buried deep underground. Seth pulled up to the gate and entered the seven digit key code. A loud beep preceded the shudder of metal as the gate started sliding open. He drove through the opening and remained until the gate had closed fully behind him.
Satisfied, he drove across the parking lot and around to the back of the warehouse. A garage door opener on his visor triggered the opening of a large industrial roll-up door. He pulled inside and shut it behind him.
Once the engine was killed, he slid out of the van and went around to retrieve Camille. He unzipped the golf bag and slid her body out. She was still out cold, her face relaxed and peaceful, the way he remembered it to be before she’d been possessed.
With her eyes closed, he could pretend they were still the beautiful shade of blue instead of the tainted pink. She looked like she was asleep in his arms. He’d fantasized about waking up to find her just like this in his bed. Of counting the freckles on her nose by the light of dawn.
Man, he was hard up. Either that or he just wanted her because he’d decided she was a woman he couldn’t have. He hadn’t made a point of denying himself over the years. When Michael wasn’t working him day and night, he’d had time to indulge over the centuries. But he hadn’t wanted to taint Camille with the dark cloud the followed him.
Too late, he supposed.
Maybe when all this was over —— and he was just a man —— he could consider it. But that was a big maybe. He had to get through the next twenty hours first. Then Michael had to follow through on his promise to nullify the contract. He’d believe it when it happened.
He slipped his fingertips along the soft curve of her throat and checked her pulse again. Satisfied with the strong, steady beat, he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. There was no longer a need for a golf bag when there were no witnesses to fool.
The warehouse was empty and dark except for a few emergency lights that burned constantly. At one time, the large building had been used to house some secret aircraft operations for the Air Force. Now it was just a hat sitting on top of its re
al purpose. In a corner behind a stack of shipping crates was an elevator. There was a keypad beside it, obscured by an "out of order" plaque. Sometimes Seth wondered why he bothered. No one ever came to this place but him. Even his landlords didn’t have the current code. He paid extra for that luxury. It wasn’t like he could explain what he was doing there.
He slid over the plaque and entered another seven digit key code. The elevator, which appeared rusted and malfunctioning from the outside, suddenly sprang to life. The doors flew open to reveal a thoroughly modern and clean inside crafted with stainless steel and glass. Seth stepped in, careful not to whack Camille’s head as he turned around in the small space. He slid a specially programmed ID card into the slot and activated the inner controls. There was only one destination. The elevator moved on its own, descending the three hundred foot elevator shaft to his underground workroom.
Even if one of his ‘detainees’ were to overpower him, they couldn’t escape. Not without his card and the code. It was his job to contain the evil in any way possible. Today, that would mean making it to dawn without having sex with Camille. He wasn’t sure if he’d been assigned a harder task before.
The doors slammed closed and the elevator lurched down into the depths of the facility.
Let the games begin.
3:57 P.M.
Isra’s head ached like someone had hit her with a hunk of brimstone. She was groggy and far too warm for her own liking. She winced and felt the rough texture of concrete scrape against her cheek. Her eyes pried themselves open to survey the situation she’d managed to get herself into. The first things she saw were metal bars.
Not good.
Last thing she remembered, she was in Camille’s bed and Seth had just arrived. Now she was in a damn cage or cell of some kind. How the hell did this happen?
Sexy As Hell Page 2