Voices of Hell

by Catherine Stovall

  “That, my little painter boy, you will have to find out on your own.” With a wink, she stood to walk away, but he stopped her with a warm hand laid gently on her arm.

  “For you, I’m sorry if you don’t like the paintings, but this one, it’s just… I don’t know.” He shoved the small package he had hidden in his coat at her. “I dreamed of you, over and over again. This sounds crazy, but you just said you’re evil, so maybe not. Anyway, this one, it’s just for you. I hope you like it.”

  She refused the velvet wrapped gift with a smile and turned away without a word. Glancing back over her shoulder when she reached the door, Izzy blew him a kiss.

  Stepping into the hallway, leaving him alone with his paintings and her words, she felt her composure slipping. With wobbling knees and a spinning head, she moved as quickly as she could, fingers trailing down the royal blue satin walls to help keep her steady. She couldn’t hold the driving need to feed at bay any longer. Had she stayed, she would have devoured his essence and licked her fingers afterward.

  “Iyzebel!” Ashur’s voice boomed out of the main study, where he and several of his generals were gathered around a large mahogany desk.

  She spun, a hiss pressing between her teeth and a desperate need burning in her eyes. His name was a growl, “Ashurrr.”

  Reading the deadliness on her face, he leapt up from his high back leather chair and bounded over the desk in one easy motion. The others followed suit, closing the short distance faster than any human could.

  “Izzy? Iyzebel? What has happened?” His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arms like vices as he tried to force her to look into his eyes.

  Teeth literally gnashing, she growled, “I’m fine, Ashur. Let me go.”

  “No, Iyzebel. No. If I let you go, you will harm someone. We are too close. We can’t risk the lives of one of these spoiled animals, just because you neglected to care for your needs.” Rational and cold, his voice was soothing to the woman in her, but not to the beast.

  The power to use her words was gone. The demon spirit that dwelled deep within the recesses of her form had taken over. Mouth stretching impossibly wide, the shadows surfaced, swimming in the back of her throat and making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. As if trying to swallow past a lump of living eels, Izzy gagged on her screams.

  Her vision grew dark as the shadow creatures swarmed over her open eyes and entwined around her limbs. Extending their fat bodies outward, they twisted around Ashur’s arms and made their way up to snuggle around his neck as he fought to hold her. The metallic taste of hate filled her mouth as she battled against the fury boiling its way to the surface in hot waves. Thrashing wildly she struck out with teeth, nails, and fists in an attempt to escape his iron grip.

  As Ashur struggled to subdue the demon, the door opened. Iyzebel’s head whipped around, the smell of fear and sweat filling her senses as her eyes locked on a fair-haired waiter carrying a tray of drinks. At the same moment she ceased her fight, Ash released her, allowing her to turn toward the young man.

  In a voice full of duality, she commanded, “Come here, boy.”

  With shaky uneven steps, he moved forward, eyes wide and dreamy as if he were in a trance. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and the crystal snifters of brandy chimed with each trembling step.

  Iyzebel moved in, as steady as any predator in the jungle, she approached her prey. Circling around behind the boy and gently skimming his neck with the tip of her nose, she breathed in his scent. Her hand, long and delicate, wrapped around to stroke the shadow of stubble on his cheek. The boy shivered, the contents of the tray splashing onto the silver surface as the room’s occupant’s watched in mild amusement.

  Locking eyes with Ashur, she toyed with her victim like a cat with a mouse. “Do you believe in evil?” her lips brushed the waiter’s earlobe. “Do you believe that demons walk this world?”

  The boy’s mouth opened and shut in a silent attempt to respond, and the tray slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground.

  Undisturbed, Izzy moved in front of him, hands on the sides of his face as her heels crushed the shattered crystal into the carpet. “Come closer, little fly, I’d like to taste you.”

  The waiter, utterly under her control, leaned in. His now empty hands hung at his sides and his body stiffened, the desire rising in him became painfully obvious to all those in the room. The skin on his exposed neck prickled, and the bottom of his lip quivered as tears welled up in his eyes.

  The sight of his fear laced lust and sweet vulnerability became more than Izzy could resist. The smell of him filled the small space between them, coupling with the thrumming of his life force. Her vision locked on to his face, but it was not the stranger’s blond hair and fair skin that she saw. Instead, she saw the painter’s face, filled with want and surrender rather than panicked confusion.

  He opened his mouth without instruction, eyes closing as he leaned in for her kiss, but her lips did not touch his. Instead, she halted millimeters away, slipping her hands under his shirt to feel the hotness of bare skin. Lips parted, Izzy drew in a deep breath, an unconscious moan escaping as she tasted the first tendrils of the unnamed man’s soul. Butterscotch and fire, it burned her throat like expensive whiskey.

  Life filled her in electric sparks as she drew harder, coaxing the energy out of him gently, so as to not kill the host. With a victorious cry, the demon within her fed itself into a frenzy, draining all but the last flicker of life.

  Iyzebel raised her head, her blue eyes struggling to focus on the faces surrounding her, and realized that she was on the floor. The boy was in her arms, his human body so near to death that his heart had stopped, and the last synapses of his brain were firing in weak blips.

  Ash’s first general, Galia, kicked the boy’s leg, “Are you done with this, Izzy, or did you wish to bring him over?”

  Snarling at the olive skinned Egyptian, Izzy shoved the body from her lap and stood. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Well, he is a rather attractive thing. Perhaps, I might take him. That’s only if you’re not interested, Iz.” Sydonay, the only female general under Ashur’s command, liked to turn her victims into half-demons and play with them for a short time before feeding them to her pair of hellhounds, Muffin and Tootsie.

  Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, Izzy avoided the harsh gaze of Ashur’s oldest generals, Focalor and Flurety. The twin demons, which possessed ancient and nearly transparent skin even when appearing as human, glowered at her as she dotted her lips with a tissue. “Do whatever you like with it, Syd, I have no use for him now.”

  In his usual cavalier manner, Ashur cleared his throat and tried to hide the smile of amusement, “It is nearing midnight, my friends, we should probably return to our guests now. Sydonay, once you’ve prepped your toy and removed him, do see to it that a maid cleans that mess out of my carpet.”

  Slipping back into the party, as if they had never left, Ashur introduced the newcomers as extended members of the family. The extensive cover story the demons used had always involved a large, old family who made their money dabbling in all things. If they acted a bit too familiar with each other from time to time, if one of the uncles seemed frightening, or if one of the aunts made an appearance wearing little more than a slip, it was excused.

  People said that they were eccentric, as all old money families were. Izzy had even once heard someone explain her pretend family to another partygoer as, “There are bound to be a few nuts in the basket when you live in such excess.” The guise served them well, and the quick acceptance because of their financial standing only helped hide their secrets.

  Standing across the room, the endless glass of champagne in her hand, Iyzebel wished for something stronger. The young waiter had sated the hunger, but he hadn’t done a thing for the burning thirst. Her eyes rested on the true focus of her desire as he flirted and charmed the women and befriended the men. Stars danced in his eyes as he flashed a cocky smile, but she could see that
he was more dazzled by his company than he let on. Rafael was the perfect actor, playing to the ego-maniacs as they played to him.

  Before she could be drawn into the group surrounding the young man, Ashur’s voice rang out over the crowd once more, “Ladies and Gentleman, it is time!”

  A chorus of “here, here” went up, and the human herd turned like obedient animals to file into the ballroom. The lights had been dimmed except for small footlights, which were focused strategically onto the covered paintings, and soft music played from hidden speakers. The champagne trays passed through the crowd as they gathered in hushed anticipation of Ashur and Izzy’s newfound protégé.

  In the back of the room, where the shadows were the darkest, another spotlight flashed on. Rafael stood blinking nervously for a moment, the light illuminating him as if it were straight from Heaven. A mixture of repulsion and lust filled Izzy, until his voice flowed forward. Once the lyrical tone reached her ears, there was nothing left in her to feel as she was transported into his world.

  One by one, he uncovered the paintings, revealing their name and inspiration. His varied skill demanded attention as the onlookers pressed forward and exclaimed over the realistic image of the farmhouse, the quaintness of the small child in a blue bonnet, the fierce boldness of the abstracts, and the absolute beauty of the tragic woman in tears. All the while, Izzy stood motionless by the door, her eyes never seeing anything but Rafael.

  At last, the grand exhibit was ready to be revealed, and she knew what would come. How jealous will these old biddies be when they see how lovely he has made me? How much envy will they feed into this room when they think of the time I must have spent in his presence while posing for such a thing? Wouldn’t it confuse them to know that he had done it, and done it so perfectly, without ever seeing me before?

  As the cover was gently pulled aside, Raf looked up, catching her eye and giving her a small smile. “This, my friends, is Lady Iyzebel,” he said with a laugh. After pausing for a moment to allow the expected peels of excitement and exclamations at how it looked just like the real girl, he continued. “The subject is one you all know well, and I only hope that I have managed to capture her essence to the lady’s liking.”

  All heads turned in her direction, the expectation clear in the eyes of the people. She could slay his career with one crinkle of her nose or snarl of her lip. She could make him the hottest painter in the city with a simple word or smile. Izzy felt the temptation pull at her. She would love to see the tears in his eyes. The taste of his humiliation would roll off him in waves. If for no other reason than he had disrupted the ironfisted control in which she normally held her emotions, she wanted to destroy him. However, if she broke him in that moment, she would never fulfill Ashur’s command, and she would put their entire plan at risk.

  In salute to his brilliance and talent, she raised her glass of champagne and beamed, “I am honored to have been represented so well. I only hope to continue to be your muse, Mr. Denat.”

  Chapter Four

  Rafael couldn’t decide if he were dizzy from the champagne or the absolute elation coursing through his body. Once the strange Iyzebel Daeza had given her express approval of his work, the elite had truly opened up their arms and their overstuffed wallets.

  Marty was ecstatic, pounding the steering wheel as they careened through the Manhattan streets. “Oh, man, Raf! I can’t believe it. We sold every painting there at asking price. And, oh man, I can’t believe those old guys. When the bidding war over the painting of Iyzebel broke out, I thought they’d literally start punching each other. Did you hear what that went for? Do you even know how that ended? You were so surrounded by those women that I couldn’t even see you for the glare of diamonds.”

  Raf laughed, taking a long swig from the bottle of brandy that had somehow made it out of the house and into the car with him. “Sixty-five-thousand-dollars,” the words slurred together. “Damn, do you really think she liked it, Marty? I think she did. I caught her, you know, before the unveiling. She was staring at it. She said the damndest thing to me, something about her being evil—”

  “Who the hell cares what that rich bitch thinks?”

  Raf sat up straight in his seat, eyes glaring with murderous intent. “Don’t fucking call her that, man. She’s not like that.”

  “Whoa, calm down, Raf! I’m just saying, you did good, and her opinion doesn’t matter now. You’ve made it man. You are in! We have four private showings this week. By the end of the month, you won’t have a painting left to sell. But, man, don’t show those others of Iyzebel—like that one in the robe. That shit is damn near pornographic. She might sue you.”

  “What? Oh, shit. I forgot.” Raf laughed, eyes drooping. “No, man, that one is mine. My dark beauty, my Iyzebel.” Letting his head roll to the side, he closed his eyes, equal amounts of joy and nausea wafting through him. The dream came fast, pummeling into his subconscious like a runaway freight train. As he watched the scene play out, an observer in her world, Raf’s buzzing brain struggled to comprehend.

  He stood on the edge of a cliff, the wind blowing and the salt of the ocean in the air. Below him, the waves crashed onto the shore, and above, the storm clouds grew and swelled in blackened heaps. The heavy gusts felt like the hands of a lover against his bronze skin and feathered wings. The moment was pristine and made him long for the glory of Heaven. To be among his brethren once more was something he had only dreamed of. Earth was, well, Earth, but it lacked the solidity that his other world carried.

  He could feel an energy rising up all around him, a darkness that went beyond the oncoming tempest. His hand on the hilt of the heavy sword belted to his side, Rafael turned away from the sea just in time to see the shadow lingering at the edge of the forest that lay just beyond the rocky outcrop where he stood.

  The language he spoke was foreign, unlike any other he had ever heard. Still he understood the words as if he were speaking English. “Come forth, demon. I know you are there. Your wickedness foretold your coming. I could smell the stink of your sin.”

  Laughter echoed back at him, full of feminine power.

  “In the name of the Father, I command you, demon! Come forth!”

  The shadow twirled, spinning its laughter into the first drops of hard rain as they fell in hard splats against the ground. “Come forth, demon,” it mocked him. “In the name of the Father? Who’s father, Rafael. God’s healing hand, the Archangel, Rafael. You, the one most tempted, yet the one who never fell. My father is not in Heaven, and your commands mean nothing to me.”

  Rage at the blasphemous spirit hidden in the woods drove him forward. His sword raised and his mighty ivory wings spreading out to full width, Raf charged forward. “I shall slay you, you vile creature. Your guts will spill upon the Earth this day!”

  Just as he reached the tree line, she stepped forward, and his mighty blade swung in an arc—leaving a trail of Heaven’s light in its wake as it sliced through tender flesh.

  The woman’s face, beautiful blue eyes wide in shock and red lips quivering in pain, stared up at him as her body fell.

  “Iyzebel!” Her name filled the day as the thundering skies opened up and the downpour began, washing the river of blood that flowed from her body under his bare feet.

  ****

  “Well, that went well,” Ashur boasted. “The little human is positively falling over you already. The whole night, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And do you know what he said to me as he left? The balls of the boy, he literally told me that he wanted to marry you. Of course, he was drunk. I swear, Millie went and stole a bottle of my best brandy in hopes she might bed him herself.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Ashur,” Izzy sniffed. “The party was lovely as usual, and the plan is set, I am pleased. I did want to apologize for the waiter. I don’t know what came over me. In fact, I have a suspicious feeling you really are hiding something.” She let the accusation hang in the air as she turned her back to him, “Unzip?”

>   He crossed the room in three easy strides, a predatory look in his eyes. The long fingers of one hand lingering on her shoulder as the other deftly slid the zipper down to the base of her spine. “Do you not trust me, Iyzebel? After all this time, am I still your enemy?” His head dipped low, placing a kiss on the back of her neck as he slipped the shoulder of her dress down.

  Transfixed, Izzy fought against the tingling that awakened in the pit of her stomach. “Ash,” his name was a whisper.

  “Yes?” his lips brushed the naked flesh of her shoulder blade, causing the soft down at the back of her neck to rise.

  “If you are hiding something, tell me now. Don’t let me go into this blind. There’s something different about this human.” She’d meant the words to be a command, but they came out as a breathless plea.

  He turned her to face him, and somehow her dress slipped into a shimmering black puddle at her feet. The passion in his eyes burned away her doubt as she lifted her face to his, ready for the fire to consume her.

  Ashur’s lips touched hers in an explosion of force and need as his hands ground into her hips, lifting her from the floor. In an instant, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself hard against his lean body. Hands locked in his hair and tongue deep inside his mouth, Izzy abandoned herself completely. Ash had always been the dominant force between the two of them, and she knew their union had been a long time coming.

  The force of the change came over him as his own need rose, turning his hands to talons and freeing his wings. The beast unleashed, all gentleness was lost. Her black lace bra soon became shreds of unrecognizable cloth, as he growled and nipped his way along her neck to her breast. Biting and teasing the tip of her nipple until it hardened, Ashur rocked her against his body until she moaned.

  Finding herself in the arms of the fallen angel, instead of the man he so often appeared to be, Izzy allowed the change to take her as well. Being a made-demon, she did not have the giant black wings, but her own nails extended and her teeth sharpened. At the moment the first orgasm raced through her body, she felt the monster inside her roar with pleasure.