by Hunter Blain
“Hunter Blain and Shayne Silvers are the best fantasy authors ever to be born.”
Abraham Lincoln (probably)
1
A plume of green hellfire cascaded overhead, erupting from the mouth of my new friend as I slid on my knees over the wet concrete. My head shot backward, lifting my chin to protect the top of my head from the fire. The flames were beyond intense, and I could feel the skin of my nose and cheeks hovering on the edge of the conflagration. The smell of singeing hair from my perfectly Irish red beard pierced my nostrils as the flames bellowed a deafening roar in the alley.
As I slammed into the legs of the flame-spouting demon, I wrapped my arms around his slimy hips while shifting my weight to my left and placing my right foot on the ground. My body connected as I exploded up from my posted right foot, throwing the demon off balance with an—I assumed—look of confusion on its grotesque face. I couldn’t exactly tell what his face looked like while my head was in prom night position at his waist.
As we tumbled to the ground, I moved up his body so my chest would smother his upper torso as we slammed down. I could feel as much as hear the exploding bubble wrap as the demon’s ribs broke under my weight. This skinny bugger was more of a caster than a melee fighter, and I took full advantage of his lack of physical prowess.
I brought my head up for a better view of my prey. He…was…hideous. A layer of slime coated his naked body, making him slippery. His gray skin was loose, like the jowls of a bloodhound, increasing the difficulty of keeping him down. Speaking of keeping things down, “Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up,” I said in a mantra as I wrestled over the loose chicken skin. A…
Twisting in my position, I threw a leg over his abdomen in a full mount maneuver. As I did that, the monster slipped a hand between our torsos and began summoning a green ball of hellfire. With preternatural speed, I willed a blooddagger through my palm and swiped at the demon’s wrist. The green light extinguished as the hand smacked wetly onto the ground next to us. The demon shrieked in pain and surprise as thick, black gore oozed from his nub of a wrist.
I looked into his wide, babyshit green eyes, and was reminded of those ugly jeeps I sometimes saw on the road. Mr. Flabskin took advantage of my momentary lapse in thought and snapped at my face with teeth made from needles. I reacted by putting my left forearm against his throat and pushing down with my body weight. I supposed he didn’t like that because he started squirming with renewed vigor while choking gurgles escaped his mouth.
“Locke’s gone, you skinny fat fuck! Who summoned you?” I demanded through clenched teeth.
A scratchy, high-pitched voice, similar to Sméagol’s, answered with, “Locke was but a puppet, mosquito. The master has many servants to follow his will.”
“Who is your master?” I asked with impatience. In my best Alan Rickman voice, I said, “I’m going to count to three. There will not be a four.”
“One.” I smiled, showing my teeth.
“Two.” My fangs elongated to surgically sharp points.
“Three.” I moved my forearm and placed the palm of my hand against his forehead, keeping him steady. I shifted my head closer to his neck.
“Okay,” I said just before sinking my fangs into his neck and yanking his artery apart. Black sludge erupted in a torrent, hitting the concrete. Some got in my mouth as I pulled away, and I began spitting vigorously. I had already discovered the hard way that demon blood gave me heartburn and daymares. Fun stuff!
I pushed myself up to my knees and then stood, staring down as Babyshit McSkinnyfat writhed in pain. As his sludge blood began to slow, his skin started turning translucent. After a few moments, he had melted into pure ectoplasm and was evaporating before my eyes. I pulled out a pack of gum from my leather duster, which Da had miraculously repaired, and freed an entire row of the minty goodness from their aluminum prison, only to make them fall prey to my mouth. I chewed with gusto to get the taste of shit, piss, and diesel oil that the demon had given me as a parting gift out of my mouth.
“Ugh. No wonder they’re all so surly,” I said with an overly full mouth to the now empty alley.
With the task complete, it was time to return to Father Thomes Philseep with a progress report.
As I casually walked down the alley to the road, I pondered the influx of summonings since I had killed my archnemesis, Locke. Locke, the bastard who had killed my parents under the name Godwin centuries ago. I still enjoyed thinking about his decapitated head, about how I had laughed into his blinking and twitching face as he’d died. Revenge was hollow, and I found myself glorifying the brutality in which he had died to fill the vacant hole in my chest. I had lost my parents and had been given a mentor in return—Ulric. During the most helpless moment of my entire mortal life, he had promised to give me the ability to avenge my father and my mother. In exchange, I had given my word that I would walk this mortal plane with him, teaching him the ways of the modern world. Apparently, Ulric had been asleep for some time and had needed a guide and companion. Eternity could be boring without the right company. And misery loved company.
My hand absentmindedly stroked my singed beard, burnt hair beginning to grow back like a turtle poking its head out of its shell after the perceived danger had dissipated. At least my gray beanie was okay. I loved that thing almost as much as the patched-up trench coat I had stolen off the body of a Nazi officer back in Germany.
“Hello, Jonathan,” a silken voice purred from above.
My eyes lazily slinked up, almost in an eye roll, to find Lily of the Fae Court sitting on the edge of a two-story industrial building. Her toned legs were shiny in the pale light of the full moon.
“It’s just—” I started.
“Whatever I want it to be,” she interrupted, displaying her authority over me.
After she saved my unlife by spilling her ancient blood over my decimated body, I was forever locked into a life debt with her, powerless to refuse her commands until the debt is repaid. The thing is, she’s lived for countless millennia and hasn’t died yet. I’m pretty much her immortal plaything. It’s only been a few months since she saved my sexy ass, and already I’m growing tired of doing her bidding. It seems she has something for me to do at least once a week. I’ve even painted her damn toenails and detailed her car with my tongue. She insisted it was a lesson for trying to fight her commands by “interpreting her meaning” in my own way.
Whatever that means.
“Now, I need you to do an itsy-bitsy favor for me,” she said with a devilish smile as she pushed off from where she was perched and landed gracefully next to me. She was wearing black spandex shorts and a neon-green sports bra with matching tennis shoes. Long, curly blonde hair flowed out the back of a black baseball hat and into a ponytail. She…looked…ravenous. Ravishing! I meant that one.
As she closed the distance between us, her flowery scent wafted into my nose and paralyzed me. A part of me even exhibited symptoms of rigor mortis. Lily reveled in my longing for her soft, succulent flesh.
Standing next to me she only came up to my shoulders, so she had to stand on tiptoes to kiss my mouth. I immediately gave in and returned the enthusiasm. My eager hands roamed barely covered flesh as hers went up to my face and then the back of my head. She pulled on my long hair while pulling away from my lips with a mischievous grin. My head jerked back and my chin faced skyward yet again; but this time, I was all for it as long as she held on to the strands of my mane. She slipped her tongue from between her lips and ran it up my throat in a carnal gesture of dominance. Her other hand slipped down the front of my jeans and found my buried treasure.
There was something magical about the way she touched me. Literally. I was confident she had infused her Fae magic into every sensual movement.
Right as we started getting heavy into the action and I was removing my trench coat, she pulled away and said, “This isn’t the favor, lover.” She let her scent fall away from me, clearing my mind but leaving my body wanting.
I had already pulled one hand out of my patchwork of a coat before she broke our connection, which left me stunned in place. I fought my Predatory Self for control over the wheel, but he was insistent that we finish what had been started. I reminded him that I was the one in control and that she wouldn’t let us finish unless it was her idea. PS relented, albeit reluctantly, like a child giving up on getting a toy while at the store.
After my mental struggle with PS, I was able to grasp the wheel at ten and two and take control of my body. I commanded the blood in my member to retreat in a show of control and defiance.
“I don’t think so, lover,” Lily said. “Fill it,” she commanded with a coy grin, authoritative pleasure showing at the corners of her eyes.
“That’s not how this wor—WHOA NOW!” I gulped as my own blood revolted against my will and raced to try to rip my pants.
“More,” she cooed, eyes now sparkling mischievously. She was biting her bottom lip.
I moaned in pained panic as I broke all racial stereotypes and unofficially took the world record.
“Lily…please…” I pleaded, but then realized that’s what she wanted, so I added, “…call the Guinness World Records. Do you have a measuring tape? Maybe a yardstick?” The pain was excruciating yet interesting. I constructed a smile onto my face, forcing each muscle in sequence to reverse from the grimace they so desperately wanted to form. My teeth were seconds away from shattering through the facade.
“Relax,” she commanded. At the release of her power over me, I dropped to my knees and hunched over, cradling my shrinking package. With strings of drool slipping from my mouth, I willed my member to heal with a focus of mind that even a monk would be jealous of.
On a side note, I learned a new trick today; I can force blood into limbs and swell them to gargantuan proportions. I can’t immediately fathom a scenario where that would be helpful, but it’s still neat to know.
“Thank you,” I panted as I got back up to my feet. “Now, what can I do for you, m’lady?” My right hand was now shielding my junk from her trunk.
“I need you to lay low for a while. More specifically, don’t go looking for a fight, my dear. I would hate for my favorite plaything to be taken from me,” she said with a dramatic frown complete with pouty lips.
“I’m your favorite?” I asked.
“That’s all you have to say?” she asked dubiously.
“Depweg owes me five bucks!” I exclaimed triumphantly, my free fist shooting above my head in mock celebration.
A perfectly proportioned eyebrow went up for the briefest of moments before descending again, effectively returning Lily’s astonishingly symmetrical face to its supermodel rest state.
Lifting her closed fist in a show of control, I was immediately captivated against my will. Sure wasn’t getting tired of that. Not at all.
“I’m serious, John. Do not directly engage with any supernatural or preternatural. And I mean anyone.” She then hashed out all the fine-print details. The gist of it was that she didn’t want me to continue hunting demons or those that would summon them until further notice. Father T wasn’t going to like this. I could at least continue to hunt mortals and interact with other supernaturals, aka supes, but I was on strict orders to not attack any of them unless they posed an immediate threat to my existence. Not a lot of wiggle room, but I decided to play along. At least for the time being. Then again, what other choice did I have? Oh, right, insanity. Those who refused even the simplest of commands in a Fae life debt ran the certainty of going completely insane.
“Fine. I needed some time to myself, anyway. I have a backlog of games and movies to catch up on,” I said.
“Good,” Lily purred while letting her gaze violate me from toe to beanie. “Now, take off your clothes.”
“Like, right here? In the alley?” I said with a touch of trepidation as I mocked covering my nipples with the index and middle finger of each hand.
“Yes. Right here. Right now.” Her smell invigorated the senses and removed all inhibitions. I had to fight PS for enough control to not rip my clothes off. Hell, I wanted to rip them off myself, but damn it, I loved that trench. Her own attire evaporated off her firm body. It was at this time that I used all my mental capacity to utter the most romantic sentence in the history of romance novels: “Soooo hot. Want to touch the hiney.” Lily giggled in response as her body pushed into mine.
We broke concrete.
Claw marks healed immediately. I used bloodwhips when commanded. It was the only time I didn’t mind being told what to do. A real creep of a passerby stopped dead in his tracks and began gawking at us with a smile that was fit for his own Netflix documentary. That is, until he saw us start levitating while in mid-coitus. I looked over at him and said, “There is no Dana, only Zuul.” We both tittered at the man as he stumbled away, his legs trying to sprint without giving his body time to balance—inebriation at its finest.
After a super impressive four minutes, we were finished—at least I was. I was sure she would have said something if I hadn’t completed my duties. Maybe I should say something.
Say something? Since when did I care about the needs of my capture? It had always been use and use alike between us. Well, she had saved my unlife, but she had already gotten something in the form of a perfectly obedient slave toy out of the ordeal. What’s funny was, I couldn’t convince myself that I didn’t enjoy it to a degree. Lily was something else.
I watched her as I dressed. She simply willed her outfit back on. I saw a look of worry cross her face for a nanosecond and then vanish again. I chose not to comment on it and instead took a moment to pause and reflect. Lily had never been one to show all her cards, and I knew that look meant she knew something but wasn’t about to enlighten me. Or hell, maybe she was doing it on purpose. I couldn’t tell.
“Be careful, John,” Lily said with sincerity before winking out of this plane. There was no sonic boom like there normally was.
“She could control it this whole time?” I asked out loud. On one of our last impromptu meetups, she had created a sonic boom in my car by shifting planes, which had caused a vacuum that the air had rushed in to fill. It had shattered all of my windows and put me in an interesting position. I still had over four years left on that tanning membership.
Feeling both physically relieved and mentally concerned, I made my way back toward the street. A featureless black cat darted from behind a dumpster and disappeared into the shadows.
As my foot crested the threshold between alleyway and sidewalk, a blast of wind struck me as if a jet engine had just been turned on full blast directly in front of me.
I shielded my eyes and gradually retreated into the alley, fighting the force pressing against me. After a few beats—because that’s what was causing the wind—the air went still and a voice boomed, “Abomination, I have come for you!”
Opening my eyes, I saw an armor-clad Goliath with a flaming sword and imposing wings that filled the width of the alley. His armor was marble-white with sparkling gold linings, and the flames of his gladius burned with heavenfire. His eyes blazed a white-blue that mirrored the flames of the holy weapon and illuminated the alley almost as much as the magnificent sword.
Reflexively, I pulled out a bloodwhip and…nothing. I froze in place, poised to strike. I couldn’t attack. The angel smiled at me from under an impressive helmet that looked like it belonged in World of Warcraft.
“What do you want?” I asked while tilting my chin up to stare into a face that seemed to be several feet above my own. If my heart could beat, it would have been racing at that moment.
In a reverberating, commanding voice, he said, “I have a message for the cursed one; deception is afoot, and continued involvement will result in swift retribution and a punishment, eternal.” As he spoke, he lifted his flaming gladius to point right at me. PS mentally nudged me and expressed that we both felt that we were in immediate danger. I concurred. Plus, he was celestial, so not super or preternatural, ri
ght? She hadn’t mentioned anything about angels.
I swung the whip around in an obvious telegraph of my intentions. The angel reacted by bringing his flaming sword straight up to try and catch my attack. That would have resulted in quite the predicament, as I was willing to bet that heavenfire would burn my essence just as effectively as hellfire, and that it would have destroyed the energy I had willed into my weapon. At the last moment, I pulled my wrist back and forced the whip to crack by the blade instead of wrap around it. I put in a lot of strength in doing so and created a baby sonic boom that disoriented the angel for a moment, causing him to reflexively bend backward ever so slightly, which was all I needed. I willed my own gladius through the palm of my left hand and gripped it tightly in my fist while dropping into a crouch. Before the angel could recover, I thrust my blade between the armored pieces and into the now exposed stomach, where only cloth offered any defense. The armor allowed for quick maneuvering at the cost of full protection. He was surely regretting his choice of attire as my blade pierced his robe underneath his armor plating and plunged into his angelic liver. I had never imbibed angel blood before, and the thought momentarily froze me.
The angel took advantage and swung widely down at me, forcing me out of my indecision. I tried to step out of the way, but my blade kept me less than mobile. Instead of splitting me right down the middle, my right arm tumbled to the dirt-covered concrete below. The holy weapon had been swung with enough panicked force that it lodged deeply into the ground. A torrent of electrified pain ripped through my body, like being hit by a tidal wave of nearly freezing water.
I was vaguely aware that my trench coat was going to have new stitch scarring where the arm connected to the shoulder.
Note to self, buy Da an iTunes gift card for all the work he puts into my loyal coat.