“Your walls are very odd. How can this material protect you from the elements?” It appears to be a dark, spongy material, hardly fit for a domain. I begin to poke at one of the walls, and my claw sinks right in. She doesn’t seem to notice, so I retrieve my hand and clasp them both behind my back, lest I destroy anything else.
Now that the thrill of the hunt and the bloodlust have subsided, I realize I may have gone a bit far. I do not want to harm or scare her.Maybe a little. Only because her fear smells so good that it’s dizzying. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think shelikesbeing afraid, and that’s why it smells so godsdamn sweet.Maybe she craves the hunt, too.
“Oh. It doesn’t, it’s just an extra layer. It makes for good acoustics,” at my quizzical look, she clarifies, “keeps the sound clear and makes it so my neighbors can’t hear me.” Her lovely, soft cheeks fill with blood again, and I fear I’m missing something of great importance. Looking closer at the contents of the shelving, I’m appalled by what I find. Countless depictions of nude men and women in positions of copulation, even more of shirtless males, both decidedly human and some only vaguely humanoid.
She catches me staring, my jaw nearly to the floor, and her blush deepens to the sweetest red. Stammering out apologies, she explains she obviously wasn’t expecting company.
“A young lady should not have such… artwork.” I try to say, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “It is distasteful. What is it that you do here? I do not see this tome of witchcraft that you speak of.”
“Well basically, I read books out loud and that,” she points to the cylinder, “records my voice. Then people who enjoy books but prefer to listen to them, or have trouble reading, can still partake of the joys of it.”
“That is a spectacular innovation!” Humans are ingenious when they aren’t too busy fighting wars and killing innocents, “But it does not explain the crude artwork.”
“Oh. Well… I specialize in narrating books that have… sex in them,” she eeks out, trying to hide behind the sheets of scarlet cascading down from her head.
I had heard of books containing romance, but it was only spoken of in whispers among the filthiest of mortals. It appears much has changed in my time away. I grab a book from her shelf and thumb through the pages. The words within are so crass I cannot look away. I stumble upon a passage containing the phraseher hungry cunt,and despite myself, a warmth begins to grow low in my belly.
I slam the book back into its space, unable to bear more, turning to face her again. With barely restrained laughter, I tell her, “This is filth. You read filth aloud so others may consume it.”
At this, her face lights up with fury, “Okay, asshole, you do not get to come into my home, create a maelstrom of corpses, stuff them into my freezer, and then lecture me aboutfilth.” She shoves a handful of loose pages into my chest and spouts, “Here’s your fucking spell. Take it and get the Hell out of my home.”
As much as I’d love to punish her for her crude language, her boldness actually has me holding back a smile. No one else would dare speak to me that way, and I find her bravery refreshing. My mind wars between drawing her fear and her ire, both equally enthralling.Perhaps I can have both.
With one hand holding the papers to my chest, I reach my free hand out and gently rake a claw down her jawline, down the middle of her flushed throat, and pause it just above her thundering heart, “Make no mistake, Little Dove. I may not be able to harm you, but I’ve already mentioned once how thoroughly I’d love to make you suffer, so I suggest you watch,” I tap her with my clawed finger to punctuate my words, “your,” tap, “tone.” Tap.
If I’m being honest with myself, the only suffering I’d want to put her through is the kind where she’d be very,verynaked and begging for the mercy of release. She’d be so stunning, strapped to an altar for my own personal unholy rite, praying to me for the rapture just out of reach.
Fortunately for her, she’s stunned into silence for the moment and I can now focus on the task at hand. Flipping through the loose sheets, I see a superfluous amount of steps for summoning a demon, followed byPrinceps inferorum— prince of hell.There are a few more meaningless honorifics and poorly written Latin, thenAdiuro nos ad tuam tutelam— I bind us together for your protection.
Oh, my poor little sacrifice.She has bound us formyprotection?The most wicked laughter escapes me as I turn to her. It doesn’t explain why I can’t harm her or why a non-virgin could free me, but it’s clear she did, in fact, accidentally summon a prince of Vankhala.What could I possibly need protecting from that she could provide?Such a tiny mortal does not stand a chance against anything that would be a threat to me.
Why should I care that I can’t kill her? Ishouldjust leave and never have to hear her utter another vulgar, inviting word. It is wholly uncomfortable that the idea of never seeing her again has me clutching the spell in my hand hard enough to wrinkle all the paper.
My laughter slows as I watch her pick at the skin around her nail beds. “Goodbye, Bel.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. She will never be rid of me now. But if I do not put some distance between us, I’m going to have this human screaming for a different reason, and I’m not sure she’d survive it. The pages in my hand catch flame and turn to ashes, and I make my way down the hallway toward the main entrance to her home.
“That’s it? You’re leaving?” She chases behind me, and the relief in her voice has me considering staying if only to vex her as she does me. She must feel this strange pull, too, or she would be far more fearful of me. I am a monster, for the Gods’ sake. She must be two feet shorter than me, yet now that I’ve ceased killing those intruders, her terror has all but vanished, replaced by wicked curiosity.
“Yes. This spell is completely vague so I may do whatever I please,” she doesn’t need to know the details in the wording; it wouldn’t mean anything to her.
“Except kill me. Why? Can you not harm your summoners?”Stop asking questions I do not have answers for.I can practically feel her adventurous nature fighting against her need to be rid of me.
“I have killed every mortal who has dared to summon me. I do not enjoy being at the mercy of another,” I answer without meaning to.
A flash of sorrow crosses her face before she responds, “I can understand that. I- I’m sorry you were brought here against your will like this.”Sorry? She’s feeling sorry for me? What an odd little mortal girl.
Before I can contemplate that, she rants,“You can’t go out there like that, you know. Everyone here carries guns and even though mine barely made a scratch, I don’t think it would feel super great to be hit with 100 of those at a time. Plus my gun is really small, some have way bigger bullets and can make, like, atonof shots in just a few seconds. If you walk out there right now, looking like that, you’re going to be torn to shreds before you can smoke yourself or whatever.”
“Are youconcernedabout me?” I ask, chuckling. Apologies and warnings no more than five minutes after calling me names and ordering me out of her home.She wants me gone but not harmed. How adorable.
Looking down, I surmise she’s right. This form will draw too much attention, even though the other one is such a drag to wear. I absolutely have no desire to find out how many of those projectiles it would take to put me on the ground. I’d recover, of course, but it would be terribly painful.
As I force myself to shrink to my smaller, far less powerful size, she spins around to shield herself from looking at me.
“Most mortals find this version of me far more appealing, and yet this is the first time you’ve looked away since I’ve arrived.” Riling her up is the most entertainment I’ve had in centuries, and I can’t resist pushing her a bit farther. Sneaking up until my breath tickles her hair, I ask, “Do you prefer the monster, my little sacrifice, like those in your novels?”
The overwhelming scent of her fear fills my nostrils, accompanied by the unmistakable sweetness of something else altogether. The combination of terror and arousal has me groaning, burying my nose in her hair.She smells so divine.I barely resist the urge to grab her scarlet locks, wrap them around my fist, and yank her head back so I may witness the expression that matches her scent.
“I just-” she begins, “I just wanted to give you a little privacy while you… changed.”
