Running Wild

by Lucinda Betts

  “Are we far from the library?”

  “It’s just around that corner,” she whispered, pointing to an intersection not three steps away. The door to the chamber was painted blue for learning. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “Something feels…not right.”

  Tahir knew what she meant. The atmosphere felt ominous, like the hallway waited for something. He’d felt this before…in the desert, when the red-haired woman let the demon capture her. He knew exactly what this feeling was. Suddenly a voice burned through his mind. The magician, the bitch. Keep her safe. He heard Badra’s sultry voice as clear as if she stood directly behind him. The demons wait for you here.

  “Shitani,” he whispered to Shahrazad. “They’re here. Badra just…told me.”

  Shahrazad stepped backward on silent feet, her shoulders rigid with fear. Slipping his arm over her shoulder, he could feel her heart pounding, but her expression remained implacable.

  Tahir’s own pulse raced. He had only one small dagger and the element of surprise with which to protect the princess.

  “Run!” he whispered. When they came after her, he’d go after them. “Just get through that door!”

  And she did, not questioning him. She flew over the flagstone like her life depended on it, and he stayed right behind her, ready to leap on the demons if they attacked her.

  “Here!” she screamed. “It’s here!”

  Her hand was on the knob when he saw a shitani. Its skin was a patchwork of visibility. He saw the floor, the walls, through mottled green pieces, like a child’s puzzle—and the pieces were scuttling quickly toward the princess. The creature was losing its invisibility, but its haunches gathered beneath it as it prepared to jump.

  The princess opened the door. Tahir raced toward the shitani and punted it, kicking it hard in its face. The solid feel of it beneath the naked ball of his foot told him more than his eye, which saw a confused jumble of patchwork fly down the hall. The shitani slammed against the brick wall and landed on the floor with a catlike mewl.

  “Are you safe?” the princess asked, pausing in the doorframe.

  But he didn’t answer. He shoved her into the chamber and slammed the door behind them.

  “No one comes in here,” a soldier said, stepping in front of the princess. In the small foyer, a second soldier stood taciturn next to the inner door.

  “If I deigned to speak to a man,” she said, “I would point out that this is merely a library, and I am the princess.”

  “The Sultan said—” the first soldier began, breaking the rule Tahir knew to be sacred to the royal women of this land.

  “Soldier,” Tahir commanded, opening the only door standing between them and the shitani. “You have something more important to worry about than the Sultan.” Tahir shoved the soldier into the hall, hoping he’d see the shitani before it regained its senses and saw him.

  The soldier wildly looked around for the speaker, for the source of the push. “Who—”

  “Soldier,” Tahir interrupted, maximizing the effect of his invisibility. “A shitani is catching its breath seven steps from you. Kill it now. I must keep the Princess Shahrazad safe. You must keep the palace safe.”

  “Who’s speaking?” The first soldier’s deep voice sounded commanding, but it quavered, belying his fear, and he’d drawn his dagger.

  “It is I, Prince Tahir of House Kulwanti from the Land of the Sun, who speaks. Now go! The demon must be stopped.”

  “I know of no such prince,” the soldier said, but already the princess was moving away from the blue door, fear etched on her face, her arms crossed.

  “You’d better kill that shitani quickly,” Tahir said.

  “I’ll kill you,” the man said, but Tahir ignored him. The princess had opened the inner door and was already walking toward the interior chamber. He walked after her, seeing the wall of books ahead of them.

  “God’s balls,” Tahir heard the first soldier curse, the cry echoing through the sanctum walls. “Lutfi, get your ass this way.”

  Snarling and squealing filled the air, but when Tahir went to protect the princess he saw she’d vanished. Looking around, he saw a flash of orange from her oraz. She was already at the end of the hall.

  “Where are you going?” he asked her. She only shook her head in reply.

  He stood undecided, halfway between the princess and the fighting soldiers. She needed to read books, and she was willing to do it on her own—even if he couldn’t protect her.

  “God’s holy mother!” one of the soldiers swore, his voice pitched high with fear. And then the man called, “God’s eyes, Lutfi, help me now!”

  The scream that followed decided it for Tahir. If the shitani defeated the soldiers, keeping the princess safe would be that much more difficult. After a quick glance at the retreating princess, he grabbed a torch from a sconce near the door and ran back toward the darkened hallway.

  The first sight greeting him was confusing. One of the soldiers appeared to be sleeping, curled up in a small ball on the floor. Even while Tahir realized that couldn’t be right, he saw the second soldier grappling desperately with something on his back.

  The soldier twisted his arms behind him, and he slammed his back as hard as he could into the brick wall. Each time he did it, a wretched squeal erupted from behind him.

  And then Tahir saw a flash of teeth and the small brass hook embedded in the soldier’s nose. The small hook curled into a nostril and poked out the other side. Blood dripped off the man’s face and onto the floor, forming a copious puddle. More blood from the man’s scalp made the puddle bigger.

  Tahir squinted and saw the shitani on the soldier’s back—the odd patchwork of visible demon flesh. Spurred talons as large as any fighting cock’s jabbed into the man’s neck, and the creature sank teeth into the man’s head while it jerked the ropes connected to the hooks.

  After slamming the torch into a sconce, Tahir raced toward the sleeping soldier. Planning on slitting the demon’s throat, he ran toward the beleaguered soldier who’d nearly given up his attempt at pulling the shitani from his back. The man stood in a stupor, staring blankly ahead as the demon buried another hook in the opposite nostril.

  With a murderous cry, Tahir threw back his dagger hand to strike the demon, to bury the blade in its neck, but as his weight shifted he slipped in the blood and landed hard on his knees. As pain raced to his brain, the dagger skittered across the slick floor.

  He lunged madly for the weapon, but the thing skidded off his fingertips. A crazed chuckle filled the air, but Tahir paid it no attention. Instead, he lunged again for the dagger, smearing his chest with blood with his effort.

  But this time, he grabbed it, its warm handle fitting perfectly into his palm. “Ha!” he roared.

  As he scrambled to his feet the demon looked down at him—the demon saw him. Tahir realized this even as he knew it was impossible, even as he looked at his arms and thighs and saw his invisibility firmly in place. He shut his mouth and vowed to keep it that way—no more warrior cries.

  But it was too late.

  One orange shitani eye was only half visible—the soldier’s gray-clad back showed through the other half. The demon’s second eye was completely missing, shielded from view by a layer of demon spit. But still, Tahir felt its heavy gaze weighing on his face. The goat-shaped pupil met his eye and refused to yield.

  Even as Tahir silently moved toward the wall, the demon licked its mottled lips. Tahir could see the slate wall through most of the tongue, but he could feel the gaze completely.

  Somehow, Tahir had lost his ability to remain invisible to the demon; he’d lost his element of surprise.

  Come get us if you can, Tahir heard in his head.

  Or was it his imagination?

  Oh, we’re very real, Tahir heard as if in response. Your imagination isn’t as wild as we are.

  I’ll kill you, Tahir thought, perhaps to himself.

  We repeat, he heard in reply, come
get us if you can.

  Tahir jumped to his feet and lunged toward the stunned soldier. The man reeled, but the demon on his back cackled like a mad hen. Then it leaped—right toward Tahir’s face.

  How was the abortion of God seeing him, he wondered as he ducked.

  But he didn’t have time to think as the demon leaped toward him a second time. It launched itself through the air, giving Tahir a glance at razor-sharp fangs behind a half-formed grin. We’ll get you, it said in his mind.

  Try, Tahir replied as he ducked, slashing with his dagger as the creature flew toward him.

  He whooshed the blade through the air just as the demon tried to land on his back. His arm jerked, and the thing’s warm blood sprayed over him, over his hands and arms and face.

  You’ll kill! it screamed. You’ll kill those you love the most! You’ll kill the princess and your sister and your mother. You’ll wish you were dead!

  Ignoring its hysteria, Tahir whirled around looking for his prey. And just as his eyes found the shitani, it leaped again—but this time not at him. This time it jumped toward the torch.

  Before Tahir could stop it, the demon extinguished the flame—the only source of light in the dark hall—with the flesh of its inhuman hands. The scent of burned meat filled the hall as the shitani screamed again.

  “God’s balls,” Tahir said as darkness pervaded the space. Only faint light from a torch around the corner made it to this corridor.

  You’ll suffer! it screamed in Tahir’s mind. You’ll bleed and kill everything you love! And it jumped toward him, leaping with all the strength of a horse jumping a nest of snakes.

  Tahir slashed again, but the move was too defensive, and the blood-covered dagger slipped from his hand. It clanged to the floor and skittered across the flagstones into the shadows. In the nearly complete darkness, he couldn’t see the weapon or the shitani—but he could see himself.

  The blood from the floor and the demon coated large portions of his skin. He was now as much of a patchwork as was the demon, and no artful lunge would save him this time.

  With the stealth of a cat, the shitani slunk along the wall. Its mélange of visibility worked with the wan, flickering light to trick his eye.

  Still, Tahir moved toward the soldier who stood in a trance. He wouldn’t let it escape now. It would attack the princess if he did. And she would be helpless—just as the magician craved.

  He moved slowly, hoping his blood-splattered self was as difficult to see in this light as was the partially visible demon. Never had he wanted a weapon as badly as he wanted one now.

  His hand, coated in a glove of blood, reached toward the enchanted soldier’s dagger. His fingertips slid over the hilt, then the handle. The demon leaped—but too soon for Tahir, coming at his head with the speed of a crossbow bolt.

  He didn’t have time to dodge. He shot out his fist and slammed the thing as it flew toward his face. But the creature didn’t fly across the room as Tahir desired. Instead, the demon slithered down his arm. It landed on his bare foot and looked up at him, almost beseechingly.

  Tahir stepped back, ready to punt it again, kick it off the walls until it died. As he drew his foot back, the diamond-shaped pupils of the demon met his. A small mewling sound came from the shitani’s mouth. You’re ours, it said. You’re ours. You belong to us.

  “No,” Tahir roared, pulling his foot back to kick. But the demon smiled, its orange eyes boring into him as its fingers wrapped around his calf. Instead of kicking, an overwhelming lethargy filled him. He wanted to curl into a ball next to the soldier on the floor. His blood pumped through him like sludge.

  You’re ours, the demon said again.

  Tahir put his foot down on the solid flagstones. He didn’t need to kick anything. The Sultan could take care of the demon. This wasn’t even his palace. It wasn’t even his land. The Princess Shahrazad—

  The Princess Shahrazad! he thought, his mind locking on the memory of her face, the curve of her smile, the intelligence of her expression. He had to kill the demon!

  Squeezing the last bit of energy from his body, Tahir reached down for the creature.

  Still, he fought. He had to save the princess. Tahir mustered all his will to close his palm around the shitani’s throat, to strangle the thing.

  But his grip refused to tighten. His fingers didn’t want to close.

  You’ll be ours, Tahir heard in his head as his fingers stroked the slimy skin of the shitani. His traitorous hand stroked the thing like it was a cherished pet, a hawk just returned with a prized hare. You’ll be ours, the demon said. All ours.

  “I…won’t.”

  We’ll have so much fun…especially with the Princess Shahrazad. She’s going to bear the next shitani queen.

  “No,” he managed to gasp. “No. She won’t.”

  Come, our little prince, the demon said, slithering up his naked thigh. Froglike fingers began to stroke his cock. Let me climb upon your back, and we’ll go find the darling girl.

  “Not…her.”

  But her cunt is waiting for our seed—our royal seed! Our old queen is tired. We can’t hear her voice. And our land is waiting for its new queen, the child that will come from her loins.

  “Abom…in…ation.” His voice croaked.

  Or perhaps you’d like to be our new king. You can fuck us. Your child will be ours.

  “Never.”

  The princess will like us! She’ll love us. The demon chuckled, climbing higher up Tahir’s thigh to balance on his hip. Do you smell her desire, little prince? Do you smell how she loves to fuck?

  “No.”

  She will spawn a royal hybrid, a demon suited to rule human and shitani alike.

  As the demon crawled up his arm, Tahir waited for the truth of those words to give rise to horror and horror to give rise to action.

  But nothing happened. His fingers continued to caress the shitani’s neck as if he were stroking Shahrazad’s silky stomach, her breasts, her neck. Even as the shitani shimmied up his side, he stroked the creature.

  Maybe you’ll be ours instead, the creature cackled. The belly of your demon consort will swell with your cum. That hybrid will rule instead of the princess’s.

  Dragging Tahir’s palm with it, the creature scampered back down to his hip. It flashed him a sharp-toothed grin and again stroked his cock, which hardened, filling him with hatred for the weakness of his desires.

  “Stop.” He tried to pull his hand off the shitani’s skull but could not. He tried to wrap his thumb and fingers more tightly around its throat and couldn’t do that either.

  You’re ours now! the creature said, and Tahir knew it was true.

  “Release…me.”

  Not today, the thing laughed, flicking its tongue over Tahir’s cock. The traitorous organ throbbed—and became invisible. He hated himself even as he longed for the demon to wrap its entire tongue around his cock. Even as he longed to fuck the creature.

  A sudden urge to rage against the creatures roared through him. Now! Now, was the time to lose that control and kill that demon. But no matter how he struggled against the hold they had on his mind, he couldn’t move. His fingers wouldn’t obey. His hands remained in the demon’s control. Even his feet refused to kick.

  Violent thoughts had no effect. His mother was right, he told himself as the demon stroked his thigh—men are nothing but violent apes, a hair’s breadth away from losing all self-control.

  But the ridiculousness of that thought hit him. He was fighting for his life. He was fighting for the life of the princess. As the shitani sucked his cock his fingers refused to tighten. He had no control to lose.

  In desperation, Tahir embraced his innate violent nature, the nature he constantly coated in civility. It occurred to him that death should be dealt coldly, rationally—not in red-eyed anger.

  Human flesh, the shitani said. It’s so salty and tasty.

  Tahir tried a different tactic. He put violence and anger aside and concentrated on specifics. He t
hought of his fingers. He thought of his bones and his knuckles, and his fingernails and the dusting of hairs. He imagined those fingers closing around the creature’s neck. And—

  Nothing happened.

  Then he imagined taking Shahrazad’s hand in his own. He envisioned his fingers opening to accept her outstretched hand. He remembered the heat of her palm in his, the warmth in her gaze when she looked at him. And—

  And his grip incrementally tightened.

  Ignoring the welling hope, he honed his focus; he imagined his index finger curling toward hers. He saw the thick silver ring he wore there moving closer to her palm. He envisioned his entire hand around Shahrazad’s delicate hand.

  Only the flesh in his palm didn’t belong to the princess—it belonged to the demon. It was the demon’s neck.

  No, my princeling, the shitani said in his grip. That’s no way to behave. You love us. You want to obey us. It sucked harder on Tahir’s cock to make its point.

  For a heartbeat his hand relaxed, falling out of his control. His knees began to buckle, to lower him to the floor.

  But Tahir’s mind rebelled. He wanted to kill this thing! But, no. He ignored the words, words he’d heard from the women of his land, words he heard now from this demon. He didn’t want death; he wanted control of his own body…of his own destiny. Once again, he brought a picture of his fingers to mind.

  And his hand began to obey his brain with more assurance. It obeyed his heart—not his mother’s, not the demon’s. His fingers squeezed the demon’s neck.

  Stop that, the creature said. Stop that now. You’re hurting us.

  “Which is the point,” Tahir growled, struggling to regain his own control. “I will hurt you. I will—”

  Suddenly, the blue door banged open. Tahir hadn’t realized it had closed in the melee.

  The creature took advantage, leaping from his grip toward the door.

  “Tahir!” Shahrazad called. “Where are you?”

  “No!” he shouted, racing toward her, fully free of the creature’s thrall now.

  “What—”

  But he grabbed the thing’s neck just as it scurried up her ankle. Slippery with blood, it squirmed out of his grasp, scuttling toward the darkened hall as it cackled. Tahir couldn’t let this thing escape, not this time. With a warrior’s cry, he launched himself after it, throwing himself on top of it and flattening it beneath his chest.