He wraps one weapons belt around his waist and tightens the buckle. “No.”
I sigh and drop my feet off the bed. “That sucks, Belial.”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Too bad, you go back, you die. You leave this room, you die. Have a shower or something,” he says, pointing to the bathroom.
I stand and glare at him. “I have no clean clothes.”
He points to me and nods. “You’re wearing clothes.”
I grab the hem of my tank top. “Pyjamas,” I say annoyed.
He shakes his head and strides toward me, he lowers his voice, “Look I have to go, we’ll talk when I get back. Okay?” Does he care? I wonder. No, he doesn't care about me.
He pulls the weapons belt over his chest. His wings appear and he spreads them, almost as if he’s flexing and preparing to fly. The feathers make a gentle rustling sound, a stark contrast to his rough exterior. They couldn’t have been folded. His wing span is at least eight-foot wide and there are no signs of the injuries from the night before. All that’s left are raised scars on his chest and shoulders that look as though he’s been attacked by a wild animal.
I resist the urge to reach out and touch them by clenching my hands into fists and holding them by my sides. I stare in awe, thinking back to all the times I was told I was wrong, told I was living in a fantasy world. I have so many questions and still, no answers.
I sit on the side of the bed as tears well in my eyes. “I don’t want to stay here, Belial.”
He cocks his head. “You’re getting on my nerves, Lola.”
“Let me go then, and you won't have to listen to me.”
He scratches his chin then nods. “Fine, you want to go?”
I stand and cross my arms. “Yes.” I hope I look, and sound braver than I feel.
Belial shrugs and points to the door. “Go then.”
I get up. It’s a trick, of course it’s a trick. “First, where am I?”
“Where? You’re in my room, Lola. Are you that stupid?” He stands at the door, resting his hand on the handle. He cocks his head and squints a little, as if he’s trying to figure me out. Maybe he is trying to read my mind. Won’t do him any good, I don’t even know what I’m thinking.
I roll my eyes. “Where in the world I mean?”
“Nevermore,” he says simply.
I throw my arms in the air. “Where on earth is that?”
He nods toward the door. “Go, you’ll see.”
I walk to the door, and Belial opens it. I peek out into the darkness where a rush of hot air blows in. I step back. “It’s night?” I ask, confused. I know I’ve been asleep for well over six hours.
He rolls his eyes and sighs. “No.”
“It’s still dark,” I tell him. I'm confused, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. There was never daylight in my dreams. This is where I'll find answers.
“Of course it’s dark, it’s Nevermore.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, peering out the door.
Belial steps outside. “You know, Hell?”
Hell is real? “Yes, well no. It’s not real, right? Wait… of course it’s real.” Of course it is, this is what I’ve been searching for. This is how I am going to find the answers I need.
Belial extends his hand. “This is Nevermore, it’s before Hell. Still on earth, invisible to humans. Go on.”
I step outside and the same rush of hot air blows past, along with the acrid stench of something dead. I can't see anything. I turn back to Belial’s room, it seems to hover, transparent in the middle of nowhere. From the outside, there are no walls and no door, only a hazy grey mist leading into it.
“There’s nothing here,” I say.
“There is. There’s a club, bars, liquor store. You think you can handle it? Off you go.”
I step back inside and cross my arms. “I have no clothes, take me home, please.”
He slams the door. “Lola, you are wasting my time. Are you going or not?”
I pout. “You suck, Belial.”
He nods. “Yep, I’ve heard.”
Stuff him. I open the door again. Surely I’ll find something out there. I’ve seen what demons and angels are capable of, but I don’t want Belial to think I need his help. I walk out, ignoring him and hoping to god I’m not going to be killed by demon hitmen.
EIGHT
Lola
Nevermore
§§§
The moonlight casts an eerie glow as it glistens through the branches of the tall pine trees that line the street. To the left there’s nothing as far as my eyes can see, to the right there are a dozen or so small shop fronts. All of them boarded up with planks of timber and plastered with torn posters that read Stygian in bold red lettering. I walk over, the fine print reads, Club Stygian. Entry Fee 10 tokens.
I’m going to have to take my chances. Tokens or no tokens, I need to get into that club and find someone who can help me.
The paved ground is rough and uneven, and partially covered in a thick black tar like substance. It smells like death. I trip and stumble but manage to regain my balance. In the distance, faint red and white lights flash intermittently.
My body battles against my mind. I want to run back to the relative safety of Belial’s room and beg him for answers. My pride tells me I don’t need him. Pride wins as I continue heading toward the lights.
After a few minutes, another street appears through a haze of cloudy mist where there was nothing before. A huge neon sign glows red with an arrow pointing ahead, it reads, Club Stygian. To the right, a tall brick building with a weathered façade balances precariously on buckled steel beams and looks like it could crumble at any moment.
Steel bars hang off the broken windows, creaking as they move ever so slightly in the hot, stagnant breeze. The double glass doors are open wide, and spray painted with graffiti. A large red circle surrounds an orange flame, with the number six in the centre.
More of the same posters are peeling off the bricks from the lower parts of the walls, and rubbish and debris is strewn across the footpath where a large dump bin has been tipped on its side. Rats scavenge through the trash disappearing, then popping up through torn garbage bags that spill their contents of rotten meat and food waste onto the ground.
I’m wearing shorts and a tank top, no shoes. I’m not even wearing a bra. The weight of my situation sends a wave of nausea over me. I put my hand over my heart to regain my composure. I can do this. I look back over my shoulder. No Belial. Okay the guy’s an ass, but he did keep me alive.
I continue along the deserted street toward the club. There are no cars, no bikes, there's nothing and no one around. The eerie silence is replaced by a howling wind in the distance, or maybe it’s wolves? Whatever it is, I hope it stays far away from me.
As I reach the club, loud rock music blares from inside, and a smoky grey cloud seeps from the bottom of the doorway. A feeling of dread washes over me. I’ve spent years searching, dreaming, and hoping to find answers. Now, as I stand at the doors of Club Stygian, my head and heart are at war. It’s as though the weight of the world is pressing down on my chest, there’s a lump in my throat and tears well in my eyes, threatening to overflow. Somehow, I know this is a mistake, but there’s no turning back.
I tug on the door to pull it open. It weighs a ton, and as soon as there is a gap in the doorway, the music assaults my ears. A chill runs down my spine. I’m afraid I may come face to face with the demons from my dreams, or worse, the one who killed my parents.
I swallow my fear and walk into the club. The first thing I notice is the smell. It's spicy and woody with a hint of cinnamon—it makes my head spin and my heart race.
Almost every pair of eyes turns to me at the same time, as if they sensed my presence before I walked in. I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to stand as tall as possible, without giving away the fact my knees may buckle at any moment.
I’m in. Tokens it seems, were not a requirement.
>
On the dance floor in the centre of Club Stygian, males and females gyrate against one another, their sweat covered bodies glisten under the flashing strobe lights. The females wear tiny leather mini-skirts. Some are topless. Most of them have passed the point of dancing and have gone right to foreplay here in the middle of the club. Their moans and groans almost drown out the music.
My eyes focus on one female in particular, she’s stunning, with long legs and a perfectly tanned, lean body. Her curly red hair falls over her shoulders and down her back like a cascading waterfall of fire. She stops suddenly and catches me staring at her. I want to avert my gaze, but my eyes are drawn to her impeccable beauty, her full, pouty red lips, and her eyes. I blink a few times, she must be wearing contacts because I’ve never seen anyone, in my dreams or reality, with flaming red and orange eyes. I shake my head hard and try to look away. She raises her eyebrows as though she’s daring me to speak and before I avert my gaze, she smiles. Is she a demon? I wonder.
The males all have black hair, or are completely bald. A few have black wings like Belial, though none are as magnificent as his. As I scan the club, I see some of the smaller built males have red horns, two small bone like protrusions jutting out the top of their heads.
I back myself up against the wall, and cautiously make my way toward the bar where a young guy is serving drinks. Compared to everyone else here, he looks relatively normal. With a glance to my left, I’m reminded how far from normal this place is.
I’m lost for words as I watch two females with a male demon. The demon’s hands are all over them, groping at their bare breasts while they fervidly kiss and lick his neck and face. They both moan loudly between the breaks of silence in the music. The demon’s hand slides up the skirt of one of the females and lifts it over the swell of her hip to her waist, revealing her perfectly round ass, and lack of underwear.
She throws her head back, her auburn curls spill down her back and her cheeks visibly turn scarlet as he fingers her roughly. His force and urgency don’t seem to bother her, in fact it’s as though she’s been overcome with a frenzied type of lust. Her back arches, and her half naked body rocks against his hand as she steadies herself on the edge of the table beside the other female whose hand is now down the pants of the demon.
The three of them move as one, rhythmically pushing and pulling, sucking, and licking one another provocatively until the auburn-haired female drops to her knees. The demon holds her head in his hands and grasps a fistful of curls as he thrusts into her. He rocks his hips in time with the beat of the drums that now sound like crashes of thunder, rather than music.
I’ve been with a guy—only one—and although I haven’t had actual intercourse, I’m not a prude by any means. But what’s happening here, is far beyond anything I could ever imagine. Clearly nothing is off limits, and as my eyes continue to scan the club, I see chains and handcuffs hanging from the walls, and thick ropes hanging from the metal rafters.
The booths I saw when I walked in, are being used as voyeuristic tables where demons sit and watch one another fornicate right before their eyes. Reality hits me. This is not a dance club at all. It’s not a bar where people come to meet after work and talk about their day. This is a clandestine demonic sex club full of bondage, sin, and debauchery. What I thought was dancing and foreplay is raucous, vigorous sex.
The auburn-haired female stands, her eyes meet mine and glaze over with a golden haze as she raises her hand and motions for me to come to her. I shake my head but can’t take my eyes off her. She takes a step toward me, and I press myself against the wall wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I should never have come here. There’s a sense of urgency, I need to find a way out before I become involved in a shameful—painful—and degrading sex act.
Suddenly, the female is in front of me. She takes my hands and leans in close to my cheek. “You’re too pretty to be all alone,” she whispers. “Come have some fun.” She places her hands against the wall beside my head, blocking my escape.
“I have to go,” I say, trying to duck under her arm. She grabs both my wrists and holds me in place. On the verge of tears, I beg, “Please, let me go.”
She cups my cheek. “Oh sweetness… don’t cry now. We’ll take good care of you.” The female takes my hand and leads me toward the demon and the other female.
The demon now sits on a low barstool with the female straddled over his legs. As I get closer, it’s obvious they’re having sex. Her long dark hair falls over her shoulders and her large, bare breasts that bounce up and down. She’s riding the demon as though he’s a prized stallion. On her shoulder I see a tattoo, the same image as the one I saw in the street—an orange flame surrounded by a red circle with the number six in the centre.
He lifts her skirt higher as his hands grip her ass and he pulls her closer. I can’t take my eyes off them, and for a split second I’m mesmerised by the scene that plays out before my eyes. My mouth is agape and my eyes are wide as I stare in disbelief. There’s a roughness and urgency about the way the demon moves as though the female is nothing more than a body to be used for his pleasure. Yet, at the same time he kisses her with a passion I’ve never witnessed, nor experienced. As I watch, I find myself curiously fascinated. I wonder how it would feel to have someone so enthralled with my body, and how I would feel to be possessed by such uninhibited passion.
My mind drifts briefly to Belial and his godlike body, strong muscular arms, and perfect abs, but I’m distracted by the female who tightens her grip on my arm. She pushes me toward the demon.
“Look what I found,” she says.
The demon raises his head, then turns to the female on his lap. “Off,” he says. She stands and pulls on the hem of her skirt.
My eyes, betraying every moral fibre in my body, go straight to his cock—my god he’s freaking huge. I clamp my eyes shut, it’s too late. The image of his engorged, glistening wet, pulsating shaft, has been burned into my mind. I swallow hard, wishing I wasn’t overcome with the sudden surge of desire and an innate need to see more of the demon’s throbbing cock. Don’t look. Don’t look. I tell myself.
I don’t open my eyes, but I feel his hot breath whisper against my ear, “Like what you see?” I shake my head, hoping he’ll get bored and just leave me alone. “Open your eyes, take a closer look.” I don’t want to, but his voice is intoxicating, and his scent lingers. When he strokes my cheek, my stomach does somersaults. I open my eyes and keep them firmly focused on his. I don’t want to know just how close his huge, throbbing cock is to touching me.
The two females are right beside me. They run their long fingernails down my arms, giving me goose bumps in all wrong places. This club is messing with my head. I need to get out.
“She’s so sweet, so pure,” one of the females says to the demon.
The other female asks, “Can we keep her?”
I turn to her and say, “No.”
The demon waves his hand, dismissing the females. “Leave us,” he says, and before I can react, the two females are walking away.
I’m back against the wall with the demon standing in front of me. His hands are splayed on the wall on either side of my shoulders. My momentary lapse of fear has now returned tenfold, and shiver runs down my spine as I notice the other demons in the club are now staring. Like the demons in my dreams, their lustful gazes burn into my flesh.
They cock their heads and speak in a language I’ve never heard. I’m sweating, nauseous, and about to faint when he speaks, “Who brought you here?”
Heat radiates off his body as his black eyes stare into mine. He has thick black hair and the face of a god. Like Belial, he is magnificent, and try as I might, I can’t keep my eyes off him.
I clamp my eyes shut then open them. It’s real, he’s still in front of me. “Um, how do I get out of here?”
He smiles, raises his eyebrows and whispers in my ear, “Baby, you don’t leave Nevermore, not without a Lord.”
What? “
A Lord?” I’m so confused and so, so dead.
He leans forward and sniffs my neck. “Who brought you here?”
I swallow hard. “Ah… Belial.”
He takes a quick step back and drops his hands. “Bullshit. Don’t fucking lie to me, human. The Great Lord would never bring a human here, so who?” he demands.
Belial’s a Lord? Holy shit. What have I done? I press myself against the wall. “It was Belial,” I say again, hoping he’ll believe me.
He grabs my arm and drags me toward the door, I struggle and beg him to let me go. He’s too strong and he’s got me outside the club and down a dark alley before I can blink.
I try to pull away. “Please, let me go.”
He grabs both my wrists and holds them above my head, pinning me against the brick wall. His breath is so hot it feels like he’s burning my flesh. I turn my face into my arm and try to breathe. I try to knee him but he doesn’t budge. Self-defence classes never taught me to fight demons, and my dreams pale in comparison to what is my new reality.
He pushes his body hard against mine and licks my neck with a revolting hissing sound. The thoughts of desire and longing I had inside the club are well and truly gone.
“Get off me!” I scream. He’s overpowering me and I realise what a fool I’ve been. I should have listened to Belial and stayed in his room. I attempt to knee him again, hoping a second impact will loosen his grip. “Let me go!”
He laughs. “I’ll earn a hundred tokens for your mortal soul,” he hisses. “Stop resisting, sweetness, you’re making it hard for yourself.”
I clamp my eyes shut and continue to struggle. I’m blubbering and begging like a coward and can’t string two words together. What have I done? I’m certain he’s going to rape me, and among fellow demons, who would help? They’d probably all watch, maybe applaud, and then god help me, take turns.
It takes all the strength I can muster to lift my arm and grab his wrist. I push it down hard and manage to get my knee up, this time I get him right in the nuts. He groans in pain and steps back with one hand still tight around my throat.
Untamed: Demon Soul Page 7