by Mark Eller
Around her, the humming had stopped. The only sounds left were her sobs. She clutched herself tightly for long moments, crying in the temple’s empty silence. Then the voice of her god whispered.
It is over. I am free..
The lump was back in her throat. She needed a drink, whiskey…she needed an entire bottle, maybe two. What the fuck had she done? What had she just unleashed upon the world? Fox’s gut spasmed, and she knew she was going to be sick.
The lights suddenly popped back on. The hum returned. Fox squeaked and jerked, bumping her head on the altar above her. Looking around, she expected to see body parts and blood sprayed everywhere, the room in total chaos.
But there was nothing.
Taking several steadying breaths, Fox crept from her hiding spot slowly. Standing, she turned in a slow circle and surveyed the room. The poles with the glass balls atop them were once again covered with sheets. Once more, the maps appeared crisp and clean, and the broken gems were now whole. The only difference in the entire room from when she first entered was Dakar’s altar. None of its lights blinked anymore.
“Thank you, Fox.”
Screaming, Fox spun around, her hand flying for her knife. Dakar stood before her, beautiful, seductive, not a shadow. Now in perfect clarity, she saw the closely cropped beard and neatly trimmed mustache framing her god’s face. Hair so black it was blue fell about his shoulders, shining like strands of silk. Full, red lips turned at the corners, becoming a lust filled invitation to come and play. Dropping her eyes lower, Fox saw silk trousers hugging well muscled calves like they were a second skin, showing every detail of what waited between his legs for her. Lowering her knife, Fox’s fear drained away. A stronger emotion pulled at her, drew her forward.
“What a beautiful creature you are, my Fox. Come…receive your promised reward.” Dakar held out his hand, his voice a soft whisper of smooth silk.
Her god’s voice tightened things low in Fox’s stomach and washed over her in pleasurable waves, wiping away the last of her fear and misgivings. Body aching, her heart beating heavily, Fox could think of nothing but her need for his touch. She wanted nothing but to feel him inside her. She fell into his embrace. Running her hands over his muscled chest, Fox played with hardened nipples poking his silk shirt’s fabric.
Dakar stared deep into Fox’s eyes. They were the richest brown she had ever seen, dark and sensuous. He should have been the god of eternal lust instead of the god of thieves. A hand stroked her back while another tangled itself in her hair. Everything felt heavy…hot…needy.
“It’s time for your reward Fox.” Bending his head to hers, the god of the night captured her lips with a kiss she felt all the way to her toes.
In reaction, Fox slid her arms around him and pulled him tight, feeling his member nudging at her sex as she did so, pulling a deep moan from her throat. Slipping a leg around his waist, she tried to climb him. Dakar pulled away from her, leaving her mouth swollen, hungry.
“Your reward first.”
Reward? Fox thought his hot body was her reward. At the moment, it was all she could think of.
Dakar’s grip tightened in her hair as he gently pulled her head to the side. Brushing aside her curls to reveal the mark he had previously placed just below her earlobe, her god bent and set his lips upon the small phallic symbol. It burned for a moment, then tingled, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Moaning, Fox grasped him tighter. She wanted him to fuck her now. Right now! Her nails tore at his shirt’s fabric, pulling, wanting…needing. Her other hand slid to his member and tried to pull it from its confines. Once more, like the first time he had marked her in his temple, her heart raced; her body heated; she felt the building of her orgasm.
Fox moaned. “No. Please no. I want you. Fuck me this time. The real you. Fuck me. Please.”
Dakar’s hands freed her from her pants, pushing them down around her ankles. One finger found her sweet spot, and as soon as he touched her, she fell over the edge of ecstasy, crying out his name.
Exhausted, her legs quivering, her mind numb, Fox slumped against him.
Dakar pulled his lips away from her neck and looked into her eyes. “That was only the first reward Fox.”
She couldn’t think past the desire pooling once more between her legs, didn’t really care what else he had to give her. Raging need tore through her like a hurricane. Fox had to have him inside her, had to feel him grinding into her, again and again.
“The Shadow is now permanent Fox. I have other rewards too. Maps to unknown treasure, and a position in my new army, my Fox. Oh yes, I have so much more to give you than just the sex.”
When he scooped her into his arms, Fox moaned, hating the loss of his hand on her clitoris. A sinking sensation made her look down, and she gazed in amazement as they sank into a pool of shadows.
“It’s time to rest Fox. You’re exhausted, weary. And I have one other job for you. A small thing. Easy.”
Fox looked into the fading god’s face, her body suddenly needing to sleep.
“I need you to deliver a message, spread a rumor to a queen. Let her know how much she might need me.”
Eyelids heavy, drooping closed, Fox fell into a deep sleep with Dakar’s message imprinted upon her brain. Her destination clear, her target fixed, Fox saw a vision of a woman dressed in fine silks, hair the color of dark copper, staring out over a courtyard of evil, frightening, monsters. Desperation worried the woman’s light green eyes, turned the corners of her mouth downward into deepest sorrow. This one…this Elise…was the intended recipient of Dakar’s message. This was the woman Dakar needed to possess.
This was the queen Dakar would one day own.
Chapter 9-- When the Devil Left Home
On a chill day when the snow fell, Phrandex walked through un-harvested stalks of summer wheat, up a twisted path, and approached the first human habitation he had seen in at least twenty miles. He pushed the cabin’s door open to see a woman and two children sitting at a dining table piled high with too much food. The woman’s eyes grew large when she saw him, but she didn’t scream.
“Are you going to eat another of my children?” she asked in a resigned voice.
“I’ve never eaten a child,” Phrandex protested, affronted by the idea. “I’ve heard their small bones sometimes become caught in teeth or lodged in throats.” He closed the door behind him so the interior heat would not escape. The fireplace, he saw, was large. The dining room was decorated in dust and dirt, and the few pieces of furniture suffered from extensive child abuse. Three doors led off somewhere, to bedrooms, he assumed, though one probably led to a kitchen. He hadn’t been out of Hell for long. Convincing his mother he was finally ready for a bit of independence had been tough, but the last few weeks had been long enough for him to gain some insight into human ways.
“Then why are you here?” the woman asked. Suspicion didn’t leave her eyes.
“I’m cold,” he answered, “and hungry.”
Shaking herself, she nervously bit a lip. “Winter came early this year except when it fucks up and turns into late summer for a few days. Doesn’t matter. We’ve food. Char found some meat a couple weeks ago. Off a boar, I think. We eat a lot of pig.” Faint relief combined with wariness crossed her weary face. Deep lines creased her forehead, the corner of her eyes, and her cheeks. Phrandex thought her fear sweat smelled delicious.
She gestured with a shaking hand at a plate piled high with meat. “Take it. You can have it all if you promise to leave my children alone. Gerd killed them, you know.”
“Gerd?”
“Our neighbor, Harvale, killed Gerd a while back, but Gerd was only doing what his curse demanded. Harvale killed Gerd anyway. Are you going to eat my children? Gerd never ate them after they died.” She gestured toward the plate again. “You can have most of it if you don’t kill them.”
“I can have all of it if I kill you and your children first.” Phrandex said mildly, feeling somewhat confused by the woman’
s silly prattle. “It’s warm in here.” He walked to the table, pulled out a chair set before a cracked wooden dish, and sat down. To his right was a golden girl of about ten as he understood human reckoning. Across from him sat an open-eyed, open-mouthed boy who might be five or six years younger if size was any indication. They, and the woman, were the only ones at the table, though it had been built large enough to seat ten.
The girl shied away from him, but her eyes were bold. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Hallie!” the woman snapped. She rested her washed out eyes on Phrandex. “Please forgive her. She’s never seen a devil before. I’m sure she meant no disrespect.”
“He looks like he got too close to a fire,” Hallie declared. “His face is all soot black and melted looking.”
Phrandex smiled at her, making sure she got a good view of his double row of serrated teeth. “I’m young,” he explained, “and not yet fully formed.”
“Hell,” the boy chanted. “Hell hell hell hell hell.”
“Trent! What have I told you about swearing?” With shaking hands, the woman lifted several slabs of blackened flesh on a flat utensil and placed the meat on his wooden plate. “Can the children leave?” she begged.
Phrandex shook his head. “I might want desert. It’s better if we keep them close at hand.”
The woman’s face became paler. “This food is all we have. The pigs keep walking away and our desert glowed purple last week.”
Phrandex pierced a chunk of flesh on his eating claw and wondered why he never seemed to get the knack of understanding humans and their confusing ways. He stuck the meat in his mouth. Serrated teeth bit into it, sliced it to a smaller size, and the greasy flesh slid down his throat in solid chunks. It tasted of unpleasant coals more than it did of delicious blood.
Grimacing, he pointed to a bowl with orange fluff in it. The concoction looked something like whipped liver and blood. “Give me that.”
She handed him the bowl and only gasped a little when he delicately cut the back of her hand with a needle sharp claw. Experimentally, he dipped his claw into the paste, brought it to his mouth, tasted, and spat the foul stuff out.
“This tastes like pulped wood! Are you trying to poison me?”
“It’s only sweet potatoes,” she protested. “They’re old. I’m the only one who eats them because they spend so much time courting.”
Phrandex threw the bowl toward the fire where it landed in the flames and broke. “Devils can’t taste sweet. Do you have a name?”
“Yolanda,” she said. “Please, kill me instead of the children. I couldn’t stand it if another of them died.”
“Athos Damn It!” Phrandex pounded the table with his clenched hand. Dishes jumped; the table’s wood cracked, and Hallie released a thin, surprised scream.
“Do it again,” Trent crowed. “Do it again.”
“Not all of Hell’s creatures are capricious,” Phrandex told her. “I promise. I won’t kill the children.” He tried to keep his tone even, but knew he failed to hide an inner growl. Irritated, he pointed at the meat. “I’m going to eat this. I’m going to get warm before I rape you, and then I’ll leave in the morning.”
“Oh.” Relief whispered out of her mouth. “Is that all? Thank you.”
Phrandex swallowed another chunk of the unpalatable meat. “How many of your children have died?”
“Four,” Yolanda answered, “and also a husband— I think. Char’s out looking for Told now. I doubt he’ll find anything but a few chewed bones. That’s all the wolves normally leave behind. Are you going to eat my children?”
Phrandex realized she might not exactly be sane. “I said I wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure you didn’t eat any of the others?”
“Reasonably,” he answered and frowned at the food spread across the table. “I suppose you cooked most of this for Char.”
She nodded. “And for the children if they return.I cooked everything special, with Hallie’s help, of course. It’s cold out. Char works hard, and the children are so young; I just couldn‘t bear thinking of them going hungry.” She stared out the open window. “It’s late. Char might not come in until tomorrow. Grinda hasn‘t been home for two weeks, and the others for— longer— but they might find their way home, and then they can eat courting potatoes.”
Rising from his chair, Phrandex flexed his claws. “I’m full,” he said, “and warm.” Glancing at Hallie, he smiled. “Do something with the food, and take care of little Trent. Your mommy will be busy for a few hours.”
His smile grew larger. One thing he had learned from Carrid Brewer, playing with humans was fun. He suspected rape was even more so. Who knew, he might even add to his list of possible human colors. Perhaps black and blue.
* * * *
Phrandex woke to the unpleasant sensation of sunshine on his eyelids and the soft tickle of a knife stabbing into his chest. He opened his eyes to see Hallie standing over him with a butcher knife clenched in both her hands. Eyes serene, her face wore a gentle smile when she slammed the knife into him once more.
“Aim for my stomach,” Phrandex told her. “There’s less bone there. You’ll get much better penetration.”
“Thank you,” Hallie said, and her point of aim changed. “I’m just testing out something one of my mommies told me. She said mortal weapons can’t kill devils.” She stabbed him once more, and then again. “You murdered her,” she said evenly.
“I murdered who?”
“My mommy.”
Phrandex grabbed the girl’s wrist. She released her hold on the knife, allowing it to fall. “I did no such thing,” he said, affronted by the thought he would kill somebody he might want to rape again.
“She isn’t moving,” Hallie pointed out.
Rising to an elbow, Phrandex leaned to the side to see Yolanda piled on the floor beside the bed. Her naked flesh was coated in congealed blood. Talon gouges ran down her side and across her belly. Her right shoulder was raw, gnawed flesh.
Phrandex smiled at the visual reminder of a very pleasant experience. “I felt a touch playful last night. Your mother enjoyed it, and now she’s sleeping.”
“She screamed,” Hallie pointed out. “ She screamed a lot.”
“To me,” Phrandex explained, “screaming is a sign of pleasure. She’ll heal.”
“Damn right she will. It’s always better when me and Trent have a mommy.” Hallie looked down on her mother. Her eyelids opened wide, and they continued opening until she appeared to have no eyelids at all. Her orbs shone violet and blue.
“By the Two gods and Seven,” she intoned with a voice both gravel harsh and ice cold. “I abjure you to leave this woman be.” She pointed an accusing finger at the bloody wounds. “May you fear day’s light and air’s touch. May you shrink like a dead worm caught beneath a blazing sun, and may you become as dry as the tongue in a dead man’s mouth. May you grow as small as the hair on a rat’s leg and as thin as a spider’s silk, and finally, may you become so tiny you are nothing but a memory lost long ago.”
Amused, Phrandex listened to her small spell. His amusement changed to mild surprise when he saw Yolanda's wounds grow smaller and then disappear.
Defiant, Hallie stood before him, glaring at his naked form. “Are you going to fuck me now?”
“No,” Phrandex answered, once again feeling somewhat bemused by the behavioral complexities of humans. None of his nursery charges had ever been this complicated. “I suspect raping you wouldn’t be much fun.” Smiling, he showed her his double row of teeth. “Your mother will be surprised to discover she bears no wounds. She’s covered with half dry blood.”
“Trent will take care of the matter,” said Hallie. When she nodded toward the door, Phrandex turned his head to see Trent walk into the bedroom, a full sized and completely filled water bucket clenched easily in his tiny arms. His face showed not one trace of strain from the heavy burden. Setting the bucket down, he pulled a rag from the water and began to wipe the congea
led blood from Yolanda's body.
“This place,” Phrandex mused, “is becoming increasingly like home. I’m guessing Yolanda didn’t give birth to you?”
“Trent and I adopted her and the other children a year ago,” Hallie said distractedly, her attention mostly focused on Trent. “My real mommy was a harpy. My father was a witch.”
“I bet he was a good witch,” Phrandex said.
Hallie shook her head. “Most people thought he was a really bad witch. That’s why they cut his head off.” She walked calmly to the bedroom door, paused, and looked back at him. Sunlight reflected off gold sparkles in her hair. “I’ll get you breakfast. We have lots of meat, though some of it is a little rancid.”
“I like that kind best,” Phrandex assured her. “Please don’t cook it.”
“I’m just a little girl,” she cooed. “My mommy does all the cooking, but she’s not feeling well right now.”
* * * *
The outdoors was cold and the cabin warm, so Phrandex decided to stay a few days longer. Athos, he knew, would be unhappy with this delay if he’d known Phrandex had joined the hunt. Since, so far as Phrandex knew, Athos barely acknowledged he existed, it was unlikely he would ever discover his servant’s dereliction. Besides, the escaped spawn couldn’t still be alive, not in this cold weather. The creature was, after all, only spawn, and spawn were notoriously stupid. No, the spawn was dead, and this cabin held the delightful presence of a madwoman and two children who were puzzles waiting to be opened.
He spent the first half day sitting in a chair set before the table, his elbows on the table’s dry, cracked wood and his chin resting in the palms of his hands. The fire danced before him, inviting him to join in, but this flame, he knew, was different from the fiery blazes of Hell. This flame was created to burn more than just mortal bodies and insubstantial souls. This fire seemed to burn wood, metal, and sometimes even rock, so it could destroy Hell’s own if Phrandex wasn’t careful.
Fascinating, really.
At noon, when the fire was nearly burned out, Hallie dropped a raw chunk of flesh before him. Without being asked, Trent went outside and carried in fresh logs which weighed nearly as much as he did. Phrandex moved closer to the building flames to better absorb their heat.