by Debra Dunbar
The demon’s eyes widened as he glanced back at me. “A Low? Escorting an elven lady?”
We didn’t have time to argue further because the demon travelers were within earshot. I dropped my side of the yoke and stepped away from the shaft, well aware that an elven lady wouldn’t be pulling a wagon. Then I raised my chin and tried to look aloof and imperious. What would a full-elf, one who actually lived in Hel, do in this circumstance? The demons hailed us and Rutter shouted something back. I looked, figuring I’d better at least see what I was up against.
One had wings, but no feathers. He wasn’t the bird-reptile cross as Irix appeared in his demon form. This one looked like a plucked chicken with bumpy tan skin and a long sharp beak. Beady black eyes peered at me and he raised a featherless, narrow wing in my direction.
The other two were…weird, as if a plucked chicken wasn’t weird enough. One was shaped like a hammer with stubby arms out either side of his long, tube-like body. The other resembled a bear with a lion head. They moved forward, crowding our personal space. I was trapped between the bear-lion and the wagon, trying to maintain my aloof elf vibe while acutely aware that these three could disembowel me with one swipe of a claw.
There was a flurry of conversation, then Rutter turned to me, his snout quivering. I got the impression that this wasn’t going well.
“They’re curious why an elf is wandering around outside of Patchine with a Low and a wagon, and they don’t understand why you are dressed as a human.”
“Are they going to hurt us?” I whispered, as if that would mask the fear in my voice.
“The high elves have all left, but they’re not sure how powerful you are or if you have friends nearby. I don’t think they’ll kill us.”
That wasn’t exactly reassuring. Plucked Chicken poked me with a wing, nearly knocking me over.
Fear ran like ice down my back. “Tell them I’m a high elf, returned to…gather a few remaining things. That if they attempt to harm me, I will kill them. If they overpower me, my whole clan will hunt them down and feed them to the hounds.”
Rutter scrunched up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miss Amber. These are war demons. They’re trying to weigh the fun they could have with us versus possible repercussions, but they would see a threat like that as…an invitation. War demons like violence more than they like sex.”
Sex. At the thought of it my demon half rose to the surface, sizing up the three demons and liking what she saw. I’d been trying to conserve my energy since entering Hel, but I was getting ready to do a whole lot of genetic modifications. I’d need more than just what Kirby had given me, and I knew the humans in Libertytown weren’t willing to have sex with a woman who looked just like one of the beings who’d enslaved them.
But demons? Especially demons that looked like…these creatures? I didn’t care what my succubus wanted, that wasn’t going to happen.
Rutter spoke for a moment with Plucked Chicken and Lion Bear, while Hammer circled me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could create lightning, but from what I’d been told all demons could. It wouldn’t give me much advantage against these three, even with Rutter helping.
Sex. Do it. You need them.
Uh, no, I didn’t. Sex with these guys would seem to be edging dangerously close to bestiality. Irix was a demon, but he’d always been in a human form when we’d made love. This was a plucked chicken, and a lion-bear. The only one with something remotely close to a human form was Hammer. While I was trying to determine if I could outrun them or super-grow tumbleweeds to encase them, my traitorous demon half sent out a wave of pheromones.
That got their attention, although I wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Plucked Chicken’s eyes grew big, his beak opening wide. I felt a featherless wing touch my shoulder, and Lion Bear reached out a furry paw to caress my arm. Crap. Maybe I should have just stood still and pretended to be an elf.
“They are amazed and very impressed,” Rutter translated. “They think your elven form is extraordinary. They are conjecturing that you must have killed one and Owned its soul, since imitations are never this realistic. They are asking what household you are affiliated with.”
“Um, the Iblis? I guess?” I thought of claiming to be part of Irix’s, but I wasn’t sure he had a household. Although as she was an imp, affiliation with the Iblis carried its own set of problems.
“I’ve told them that you have been in the human world for the last few centuries, which is why they don’t recognize you. They are very intrigued and wonder if you would like to swap stories of conquest and valor over a bowl of roasted beaks.”
And just like that I went from fearing for my life to being asked to…dinner? Or at the very least a sort of demon happy hour. This whole thing gave me an idea – a risky idea, but what the heck.
“I would be glad to join them another time, but I must get this wagon to Libertytown. I am trading some dwarven produce for a chicken wand from the Mage Kirby, and my elf button transported me too far from the city.”
The war demons seemed quite excited as Rutter translated. “They love a good chicken wand, and can sympathize with the unreliability of elf-made magical devices. They hope that you will join them tomorrow night for beaks, and perhaps if you bring the chicken wand, they might also provide equal entertainment.”
A party. I was a socialite in Hel. The demons turned to leave and I reached out with a tendril of pheromone, picking the one who looked most able to pull a wagon. I was probably going to regret this, but Lion Bear it was.
“Can you please ask the one with the lion head if he’ll assist us in pulling the wagon to Libertytown? As a succubus, I am not physically strong, and he looks so powerful, as if he could tow a mountain with his shoulders. I would be very grateful for his assistance.”
Gah. I was so going to regret this. Was my gratitude going to involve sex with something that looked like a Frankenstein animal?
The demon tilted his head, shaking his mane and pawing the ground. The other two slapped him on the back, appearing to congratulate him on his good fortune.
“He would be glad to help such a talented succubus. His name is Harkel, by the way.”
The other two left to head off toward Patchine while Harkel grabbed the yoke and easily turned the wagon around. I’d picked well. The demon was pulling the heavy load through the sand as if it were an empty sled on snow.
It seemed rude to follow behind, so Rutter and I walked apace with the demon. I found myself reaching out a hand to run my fingers through his coarse mane and across the dense fur of his shoulders. Muscles bunched under my palm and Harkel made a low growl noise that seemed to signify pleasure rather than a warning.
Rutter shot me a perceptive look. “Miss Amber, I know you don’t understand lots of things about Hel and demons, so I will tell you as we walk. Sex demons are very selective, so you don’t have to reward Harkel with a sexual encounter. Often admiration, flattery, and caresses such as you are doing suffice.”
That was a relief. “He won’t hurt me if I don’t have sex with him in return for his pulling the wagon?”
“Succubi and incubi usually only have sex with powerful demons and even then with restrictions. Most demons go through their lives never having experienced sex with a succubus or incubus. You can say no to him and he will respect that. Killing you would require him to pay a blood-price to our households. I don’t command a high blood-price, but sex demons do.”
Poor Rutter. And he said it so matter of fact, as if it was acceptable for my life to be more important than his.
The Low nodded encouragingly at me. “Sex demons aren’t particularly strong, but they have specialized skills and nobody wants to push them too far. I doubt Harkel will attempt to rape you, since you’d tie him to you and if you’re really pissed you could reduce him to an insane, masturbating monkey. For a war demon, that’s worse than death. It’s hard to create conflict when you’re whacking off all the time.”
I continued to stroke the demo
n’s shoulder, my fingers twisting a piece of mane and tugging on it gently. I swear the demon purred.
“If I decided I did want to have sex with him, what would I do? How does this sort of thing work in Hel?” I asked Rutter.
The Low shot me a surprised look. “Well, if you’re going for the classic, then he’ll slobber on you, and stick his penis in-“
“I know that part,” I interrupted. “I mean will he hurt me? What would demons consider to be a sexual encounter, and what sort of restrictions are typical for a succubus to require?”
Why was I even conjecturing about this? He was a lion-bear. But his fur was soft, and he clearly liked me. And to be honest, I liked him.
“You can tell him you’ll consider sex only if he can manifest a human form, and no broken skin or bruises allowed. You can specify positions or how much physical contact. Anything.” Rutter smiled encouragingly.
There was a moment in my life when I’d felt my succubus needs were a curse. I’d come to terms with that part of myself, but still worried over others’ opinion of me. This was a demon. I was a half-demon. Maybe. But only if he had a human form, otherwise no deal.
The gates of LIbertytown came into view. Harkel pulled the wagon all the way to the granary where several of the town folk met us and began to unload the contents. Harkel shrugged off the yoke and stepped aside as he and Rutter exchanged a few words.
I needed to decide what to do. At the very least I owed this demon my gratitude. “I’ll walk Harkel out,” I told Rutter.
The Low tilted his head to blink at me. “Are you sure, Miss Amber? He seems an honorable sort, but I was told I should protect you.”
“I’ll be fine.” I told him. Then extending a hand I waved for Harkel to come with me. Every few steps he would look over at me, his dark eyes reflecting the lights from the houses. He was huge – bigger than any bear or lion I’d seen in a zoo. His shoulder nearly came to mine, and his head was so large that on all fours he was the same height as I was on two legs.
“I really appreciate your helping me out,” I told him, even though I knew he couldn’t understand. There was something about him I liked. Yes, he was a war demon, but as Rutter had said, he seemed honorable.
“I wish you had a human form.”
He just looked at me with those dark eyes and made that low growl noise deep in his throat. I did wish he had a human form, not to reward him for pulling the cart, but because I felt a connection with him. My succubus wanted him, and I did too. There was something about this war demon that I liked, but I couldn’t get past the fact that he was a bear with a lion’s head.
Once outside the gates I sat, and Harkel lay down beside me, his head in my lap. We sat there in silence, me stroking his fur with a rhythmic motion while looking at the moons and the stars in the dark sky. If this was all I could give him, all that we could share, so be it.
Suddenly my fingers were no longer petting fur, but stroking skin. I looked down in surprise to see a naked man, his head in my lap, my hand caressing down his neck. He turned to look up at me, the same dark eyes meeting mine. My fingers trailed along his shoulder, admiring the bulky muscles of his body, the warm, dark tan of his skin. His face was angular with long black hair tied into a knot and a narrow beard at the end of his chin. And those eyes – those dark almond-shaped eyes that knew stories and legends from long ago. I saw an army ride into battle, small groups raid and burn a city, Harkel holding a king’s head in his upraised fist. I saw the blood and heard the screams, and felt the surge of adrenaline.
I should have been scared. I should have been horrified. But it all seemed right. When I looked into this warmonger’s eyes and saw his proudest moments, I felt a kinship. Yes, he was a demon and he was capable of cruelty, of evil, but he also experienced loneliness and sorrow. He wasn’t immune to hurt – either on the inside or the outside.
His fantasies spooled into me and I saw they weren’t any different from the human fantasies I’d been fulfilling. Elves were cold, aloof. They acted superior, sneered at the demons who shared this world with them. I would be different. I would be the elf that desired him and admired him, that respected him, a willing and enthusiastic partner.
If I said yes. It was very clear to me that I was the one deciding how far this went. And so I decided.
Shifting my weight, I took Harkel’s hand. He stood and tugged me up and into his arms. His lips were firm and demanding, his hands twisting my hair tight, but I knew in my heart that I was the one in control here. This demon could squash me like a bug, but he wouldn’t. And his fantasies had less to do with rough sex and more about sensation.
His grip loosened on my hair and his fingers caressed along the edges of my ears. Then he let go, pulling his mouth away from mine and dropping his hands to his hips. This was his fantasy – a warmonger who strategized every move, planned each attack, and coordinated armies wanted to do nothing at all, to let me have my way with him while he just sat back and enjoyed.
My fingers traced along the muscles of his shoulder, across his chest and along the sides of his waist. Then they followed the rough V of dark hair to hold him in a firm grip. I stroked twice, then backed off, teasing him with my fingers, all the while watching his face. His dark eyes focused above my head off into the distance, his expression impassive. But the muscle that twitched in his jaw as well as the energy filtering into me told me he was far from unmoved.
He was about to be very moved.
I knelt down before him, tracing along his legs, then up the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Then I took him in my mouth pushing him in deep before pulling back to kiss and nibble along his shaft and inner thighs as my hands worked him. I teased this way, bringing him to the edge, then backing off until I felt sure his knees would give out. All the while his hands stayed on his hips, his face unreadable except for his clenched jaw. Finally, I took pity on him and pulled him deep into the edge of my throat, matching the rhythm of my mouth with that of my hands until he came. The energy that had been winding into me suddenly became a torrent, nearly overwhelming me with its strength. It was beyond anything I’d ever experienced with a human. I felt it humming through me, and knew there was a lasting connection between us, a tie that would feed me energy for both of our lives. And it was completely voluntary on his part.
Only then did his hands leave his hips to caress my hair and ears. He murmured something and I rose, placing a quick kiss on his lower stomach on my way up.
“Thank you,” I told him.
Like quicksilver, he changed back to the lion-bear form, and with a low growl and a nudge of his giant head against mine, he turned to leave. I watched him until the darkness of the night swallowed his form, then reluctantly went back into the city to Kirby’s shop and climbed the stairs to my room. Rutter was already there, in his usual spot curled up on the chair.
“You’re very pretty, Miss Amber. You glow now, all silver and gold.” Rutter smiled at me. Yes, I was glowing, no doubt from the huge infusion of demon energy I’d just received.
“Thank you. I liked that demon quite a lot. I hope I see him again. Although I’m curious, how did you explain my inability to speak demon? Or Elvish?”
Rutter grinned. “Oh that was easy. I told them a sorcerer had summoned you a few centuries back, and although you were able to escape, you lost all of your language ability except for the one human dialect. They were amazed that you’d gotten away. Sorcerer summonings are the bane of every demon’s existence.”
A brain-damaged succubus. Well, if it kept me from being killed or enslaved, I’d play the part.
Chapter 8
After breakfast I locked myself in the bedroom at Kirby’s house, first examining the eight varieties of root vegetables that Oleana Clawhammer had given me. They were very interesting, and I felt certain we were on the right path.
Next I went through the mountain varieties. Taking one of each sample, I modified the genetic structure to provide the best yield for the changing conditions in L
ibertytown. By lunchtime I was satisfied I’d found the perfect modifications. All I needed to do now was alter the rest of the samples, then help the humans here establish irrigation.
Which meant we needed to find the water. Kirby had assured me that they had augers and could extend them for deep drilling. The big question was where. And the answer to that question lay with the elves.
Setting the box aside, I dusted the dirt from my hands and went downstairs to find Kirby. Rutter had gone off to run a mysterious errand, and the mage was copying symbols onto small slips of parchment. I waited respectfully for him to finish. Finally, he looked up at me with a warm smile.
“Do you know which elven kingdom would have geologic surveys of this area? Specifically where the underground streams are as well as depth for any ground water?”
“To make well location and drilling more exact. Good idea.” He thought for a second, tapping the end of the pen against his lips. “This particular portion of land used to be owned by Wythyn, so I’m assuming they would have been the ones to hold the records of any surveys.”
“They wouldn’t have taken the maps of Hel with them when they crossed the gates, would they? I’m assuming we can journey to one of the abandoned cities and find it in some kind of archive room?”
He tapped a finger on his chin in thought. “I’m sure they would have left those behind, but those cities are far from abandoned. There are still hundreds of elves in Hel who intend on remaining here indefinitely, as well as close to twenty thousand who haven’t migrated yet, and they’re mostly clustered in the capitals of the former kingdoms – which is where the archives would have been kept.”
Great. Why couldn’t they have been in an abandoned city? Or in a bunker just outside of Libertytown? “Are you on good terms with anyone there? Could we pay someone to give us the map?” I asked, hoping for an easy solution.
