_Anthology - Monsters

by _Anthology

  Credits:

  Prey, Copyright © 2004 by Angel. This Heart of Fire, Copyright © 2004 by Michelle Belanger. Crimson Moon, Copyright © 2004 by Sara Bell. Kiss, Copyright © 2003 by Steve Berman; originally appeared in XFactor. Bright Souls, Copyright © 2004 by Erastes. To Please, Copyright © 2004 by Nicholas Alexander Hayes. In Place of Mourning, Copyright © 2004 by M. Jones. Salt Whispers, Copyright © 2004 by S.K. Jovovich. Smoke, Copyright © 2004 by Sean Michael. Silver, Copyright © 2004 by TJ Pennington. The Choices We Make, Copyright © 2004 by AM Riley. Roots, Copyright © 2004 by Jean Roberta. The Black Violin, Copyright © 2004 by Cindy Rosenthal. Take Back the Night, Copyright 1997 Lawrence Schimel; originally appeared in The Drag Queen of Elfland. Love Like Magic, Copyright © 2004 James Souter. Under the Bed, Copyright © 2004 Julia Talbot. Levels of Hunger, Copyright © 2004 BA Tortuga. A Shaft of Moonlight, Copyright © 2004 Angela Weaver. Of Cats and Mice, Copyright © 2004 Owen Wolfe. Stages of Waking, Copyright © 2004 KT Zheng.

  Monsters

  Copyright © 2004 by Torquere Press, edited by Rob Knight

  Illustrations Copyright © Fabiano Fabris, Tammy Lee, Atta Vazzy All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

  ISBN: 0-9749923-7-2 Printed in the United States of America.

  Torquere Press electronic edition / October 2004

  Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502. http://www.torquerepress.com

  Table of Contents

  Foreword By Rob Knight 4

  Illustration by Fabiano Fabris 5

  This Heart of Fire By Michelle Belanger 6

  Kiss By Steve Berman 14

  Take Back the Night By Lawrence Schimel 19 To Please By Nicholas Alexander Hayes 24

  Of Cats and Mice By Owen Wolfe 28

  Illustration by Atta Vazzy 44

  Love Like Magic By James Souter 45

  The Black Violin By Cindy Rosenthal 54 Crimson Moon By Sara Bell 56

  Smoke By Sean Michael 75

  The Choices We Make By AM Riley 79

  Salt Whispers By S.K. Jovovich 96

  Stages of Waking By KT Zheng 101

  Prey By Angel 112 Under the Bed By Julia Talbot 119

  Illustration by Tammy Lee 123

  Silver By T. J. Pennington 124

  Roots By Jean Roberta 128

  Bright Souls By Erastes 132

  Levels of Hunger By BA Tortuga 135 A Shaft of Moonlight By Angela Weaver 140

  In Place of Mourning By M. Jones 161 Contributors 175

  Foreword

  From the rush of adrenaline the creak of the closet door in the dark of the night gives us, to the erotic shiver of the promise of the vampire’s teeth sinking into our skin, monsters penetrate our psyche. The whispers in the dark cause goosebumps much like the ones raised when our lovers slide fingers along the same skin.

  How delicious when the monster and the lover are one and the same. From the ubiquitous monster hiding beneath the bed, to the threat of a beast hiding just beneath what appears to be normal human flesh, we have spent generations distilling our fears, our thrills, our sexual desires into cautionary tales, into dark fantasy. Into visceral, soul-deep shadows that are enjoyed by the light of the moon, of the flashlight hidden under our covers, of the flickering lights in the campfire or the movie theater.

  To wed monsters to the erotic is the marriage of a pair of long-term lovers, two ripe entities born in the night and you, dear readers, are the audience to this set of nuptials.

  So come in, have a seat.

  Just remember, tuck your feet beneath you. You don’t know what could be lurking under your chair.

  Rob Knight October 2004

  This Heart of Fire

  By Michelle Belanger He pounded into me again and again, grunting with the force of his exertions. Beneath him, I struggled to choke back a sob. The cellar stank of his acrid sweat and that horrid incense he burned to keep me weak. He had forced me onto my elbows and knees and I lay beneath him, face pressed against the rough stones. The heavy gold manacles that kept me a prisoner bit into my ankles and wrists. Two of the thick gold chains were criss-crossed beneath me and these seared painfully into my flesh.

  Behind me, he grunted his climax and I felt his thin seed spill into me. Eyes shut tight, I bit my lower lip. At least that would be all for tonight. Thomas was getting old and had lost much of the stamina of his younger years. If a being such as myself could believe in gods, I would have thanked them for that.

  Exhausted and spent, he collapsed on top of me. I could feel the muscles in his legs trembling against my thighs. He fought to catch his breath and, as his mouth was nearly on top of my ear, it was impossible to miss the faint wheeze that accompanied each labored inhalation. Although I hated him with every fiber of my being, I lived in horror of his mortality. Once he passed on, would anyone ever find me down here? How long could I linger in this existence, bound and alone? The thoughts made me choke back another desperate cry.

  And then came the whispering. This was the part that I hated the most. One wizened hand stroked the flesh of my cheek, brushing back the loose strands of my long flame-colored hair.

  "Such a beautiful boy," he murmured. "So perfect." I clenched my teeth, waiting for it to end. Apparently he was feeling exceptionally amorous this night, for he continued to stroke me, one hand on my face and the other now running down my side, then my thigh, then reaching around to my own flaccid sex. He seemed disappointed by the state of my member.

  "You are a creature of passion," he rasped into my ear. "Called and bound for my pleasure. Tell me you love me. Tell me you find me desirable."

  The lower hand gave an encouraging squeeze and then began to fumblingly stroke me, attempting to force a reaction.

  "You know I desire you, my darling little incubus," he cooed. "I called you. I command you. You must respond in kind." I allowed myself to grow hard beneath his clumsy grasp. There was no other way to get him to cease his ministrations. He purred his pleasure and pawed at the smooth length of me. For a while, he continued to stroke me up and down, his fingers teasing back the tender foreskin. His ragged nails would have been agony had I been a mortal man.

  "Ah, so you do love me after all, my Sephiriel," he sighed. "So say it to me, and I will bid you good night."

  Mercifully, he stopped his vain attempts at masturbating me, although he kept my testes cupped possessively in his hand.

  "Say it," he demanded, squeezing down. "I will hurt you if you do not obey me. You've made me hurt you before with this stubborn disobedience."

  I'd never told him that my testes weren't as vulnerable as those of a mortal man, just as I'd never told him that the putrid incense he burned didn't really make me weak. I was always afraid he'd find something worse. "Tell me that you love me," he growled into my ear.

  The hand that had been on my cheek was now twined in my hair. He tugged at my hair while pressing down with the palm of his hand, grinding my face into the floor.

  I bit my lip and refused to respond. With a sure, swift movement that belied his age, he snapped my head back and slammed it down hard into the cellar stones. The noise alone set my head to ringing. Then he lurched off me and started kicking me repeatedly.

  "Demon! Tempter!" he spat. "Whore of the abyss!" I hardly felt the blows as they landed. At some point, he picked up his scourge and lashed at my flesh. The metal studs that weighted the ends had been coated in gold. These laid me open, burning with an agony I couldn't ignore. And then even that pain was too much to acknowledge. I sim
ply curled up around myself in the middle of the circle, oblivious to the sting of even the manacles and chains.

  "I called you here. I command you! Why do you make me hurt you?"

  The blows rained down on me and I tried to be anywhere except in that flesh. But the golden manacles held me fast. "You are mine, don't you understand that? My art summoned you! My power keeps you bound to me!" And then in a deeper, less strident voice, he intoned the evocation: "I conjure thee, Sephiriel, demon of fiery lust. Appear before me in the form of a youth, crimson-haired and pleasing to mine eye!"

  The words vibrated through me, and my True Name struck deeper than any blow ever could. I pressed my hands against my ears, as if that could block any of it out. Thomas just kept hitting me. When he'd worn himself out, he spat at me and kicked me once more for good measure. I heard him tramp up the stairs and slam the heavy wooden door that led from the cellar to the rest of his home. The scrape of metal against stone as he threw the deadbolt resounded through my prison.

  I lay trembling on the stones, a miserable keening rising up from my throat. My skin was raw all over, but even as I lay there, the wounds slid closed and healed. There was no blood. There was never any blood. Because of my nature, I could neither bleed nor weep. But I could certainly feel pain. It seemed that pain was all I would ever feel again.

  From the other side of my existence, I had yearned to be given form and flesh. We all did. And yet I had no notion that the fleshly world could be so cruel. I was a creature who fed on love and pleasure, and yet here I was, tortured and bound, eating only misery and pain.

  When I could move again, I gathered up my chains and tried to find a comfortable position within the circle. I moved gingerly, struggling to keep the chains from grating against the hard stone floor. I had grown to hate that sound. These days, it pained me nearly as much as the weight of the chains themselves.

  The circle stretched around me, scribed upon the floor with painstaking care. My manacles, cast in purest gold, were also scribed all over with sigils and signs. The heavy chains that led from them were bolted to the floor in the very center. These allowed me enough space to stand and take one step. The edge of the circle was still a good three feet away. Not that it mattered; it was the gold that kept me bound more than any magical formulae. The sigil, combined with my True Name, had only succeeded in calling me here. It served as a beacon on the other side, and my True Name drew me like a magnet.

  The gold was another matter entirely. That metal, through some property I did not comprehend, was what grounded me here. It sapped me of my strength and prevented me from using any of my more subtle powers. In addition to this, it burned -- but it was a cold fire, something that chilled even my searing soul.

  I crouched on the floor and wished that I could weep. Soon the few tallow candles that Thomas allowed himself down here would burn out and I would be bereft of even that small comfort.

  Angrily, I pulled at my bonds, but like a thousand other times, they held firm. I nearly screamed in frustration.

  There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. I couldn't just relinquish my form -- the gold held me fast. And even after all of the pain and suffering this flesh had endured, I would be loath to give it up. It was a glorious thing to have eyes to see and hands to touch. When next would I have the opportunity to cross into the world of fleshly sensation? I could not come on my own.

  So that was not an option. Without the bonds, I could just reach into Thomas and shape how he felt. I could inspire love and pleasure. I could make him mad with lust. I could even kill him. But those parts of me that could reach out beyond my flesh were hindered by the gold as well. As long as one manacle encircled my flesh, everything was locked within this smooth, tawny skin. It even made it hard for me to feed. The taste of passion

  -- even Thomas', as bitter as it was, -- strengthened and sustained me. But how I longed for sweeter fare!

  Tiny flames still danced unsteadily atop the melted candlestubs. I stared listlessly at them, the hated sound of Thomas' voice playing over and over again in my head. He thought that he could break me, own me like some toy. Was he so foolish to think that he had bound my spirit as firmly as he had bound the body I now wore?

  And yet, wasn't that the answer? Hadn't I seen his hubris, has paltry understanding of what I actually was? He didn't even know where I came from. He thought it was a place, some kingdom he called Hell. And yet I and my kind were all around him, separated only by our lack of physical form. His books had taught him something -- he had my Name. Its syllables were a part of me, vibrations tuned to my very core. But all the rest of it -- no, he didn't understand.

  But I understood what he thought I was. Incubus. Tempter. Seducer. These words were spat at me again and again. There was truth to them, but not as he understood it. But if I played the role he'd cast me in, what then?

  As the candles winked out one by one, I felt the first kindling of hope since the dizzying night he had called me here. The next night, when Thomas descended the stairs, I greeted him like a lover who had been gone far too long. He peered at me with suspicion, holding his candle aloft. The unstable light played across his gaunt features, making his deeply lined skin look more like a mask. His flesh was pale, nearly ashen, and a day's worth of stubble stood out on his sunken cheeks. I could smell his rank sweat from where I stood, but I smiled and regarded him as if he were the most beauteous creature I could possibly behold.

  "Eh? What's this now? Are you up to some trick?"

  He paused on the bottom step, shifting his feet as if he were afraid to descend. I beamed at him and then looked hurt. But as I turned partly away, I made certain to keep a coy gleam in my eyes.

  "Thomas," I pouted. "My master. Night after night, you ask for my love. Yet now when you win it, you turn me away?"

  He narrowed his eyes, but couldn't keep them from straying down my naked form. I knew the language that he spoke and so I had made myself ready for him. Turning my hips just a little, I revealed a glorious erection. "And why should I trust you, demon?" he continued warily, but his eyes lingered on my tumescent cock. I thought of every pleasure, every comfort I had ever desired and I allowed my yearning for these things to suffuse my face. Languidly, I ran my hands over my own flesh. I rolled my nipples between my fingers until they clenched like two tiny fists. Sighing, I dragged my nails down my hairless chest and belly. This was the form he had commanded that I take. This was a form that he greatly desired. And I could acknowledge that it was beautiful.

  I followed the course of my hands with my eyes and I was certain his eyes followed as well. When we arrived together at my swollen member, I stroked it gently, rolling back the soft foreskin and running one finger around the exposed tip. My ordinarily golden-toned skin flushed a deeper hue as the fire within me built.

  "I've never seen you like this before," Thomas said wonderingly. His voice seemed closer. I glanced up and with triumph realized that he had descended the final stair. Now he stood just outside the circle, nearly panting as he gazed at me. A whitish crust of dried spittle edged his lips. I looked quickly back down and focused on myself.

  "I've never let myself want you," I whispered. Out of desperation, I sounded sincere.

  "What's changed you?" he asked, although now arousal vied with suspicion in his face and in his tone. "Don't you want me to love you?" I asked, looking up and focusing my eyes on a point beyond him, just next to his head. I stared at this point with all my longing for freedom and knew that he thought I was staring at him.

  His eyes were bright and two spots of color stood out upon his cheeks. "What can I do except love you?" I asked pleadingly. "It's what you want, isn't it? And you won't hurt me anymore? You have me bound, Thomas. I can't hurt you." I laid down on the cold stone floor and presented myself to him. "I'll take you willingly," I whispered. "You know I can't hurt you."

  He dropped the candle in his fervor and everything was plunged into darkness. And then he was upon me and I kissed him eagerly in r
eturn. We passed two hours in fervent lovemaking. The darkness made it easier to bear. Many nights came and went after that. Each time the charade was the same. Each night, he grew less and less suspicious of it. Eventually, he started coming down with gifts. He would spread a woolen blanket upon the stones and we would pretend to have a picnic. He fed me bread and cheese and wine, chattering on all the while as if we were mortal lovers.

  I had no need for such fare, but I ate it. I hadn't tasted food since he had summoned me, so there was even some small pleasure in it. And when we ate and chatted, there was less time for fornicating, which was also a relief.

  One night, he came down and I did not jump up to greet him as on previous nights. Instead, I sat listlessly at one end of the circle, worrying the manacles at my wrists. The flesh beneath them had become permanently burned by then, but I had worked at this with my nails all that day until it had grown even worse.

  Thomas approached the circle cautiously, a basket of pastries and sweetmeats tucked beneath one arm.

  "What's the matter, my pet?" he asked -- and there was genuine concern in his cracked, gravelly voice.

  At first, I didn't answer and then I even tried to hide the ruin of my wrists from his sight. "Sephiriel?" he persisted.

  I shivered as the Name vibrated to my core. It took some moments to compose myself.

  Eventually, I said, "It's nothing," and offered him a weak smile. I held my hand out invitingly to him. "Let me be with you."

  "You're hurt," he said.

  He crossed into the circle, grabbing my hand and inspecting my wrist. "What have you done to yourself?" he demanded.

  "It's just the gold," I said. "You know it burns me. With time, it gets worse. But it's nothing. Come and kiss me."

  I reached my arms out to him, but as the chains dragged on the floor, I made certain I winced in pain. He pulled me close against him and clumsily stroked my hair. "Oh, my beautiful one," he cooed. "I don't want to hurt you. I've never wanted to hurt you. But I must keep you bound. It's for our protection, you know. How do I know you won't run away? And where in this world would you go, hmm? It's such a wide, wide place beyond these walls. And the Church would destroy a creature like yourself."