Caught in the Devils' Hand

by Ruby Duvall

  Now breathing normally again, she curled closer to the warmth of her demon lover, her mind finally remembering the news she had been wanting to tell him since yesterday morning. She had many questions to ask him, not all of them about his curse, but for now, she enjoyed the orgasm still sitting warm inside of her.

  Vallen tightened his arm around the young woman lying softly against his side, feeling a little saner after a week without her. He had nearly screamed in his need to be thrusting inside her tightness again and the last few minutes of waiting before she came into the clearing had been the most sexually frustrating moments he’d had in too many years to count. He had watched her walking toward him for a few painful heartbeats, his cock rock-hard and his hands fisted. He knew every curve hidden under her dress, but he wanted to see her naked flesh. He knew the flavor of her skin, her lips, but he wanted to taste her.

  He had all but ripped off her clothes when they were inside the tent he had set up, pushing her on a pile of pillows before following her down. After a few minutes of hot foreplay and an intense moment when he had slid his fingers inside her to see if she was ready, he wasted no time or words before plunging inside her. Her legs had been tight around his waist, her heels sitting on his clenching buttocks as he rammed his way to a release.

  He knew he would take her again before she left that day, should she allow it, which he had the feeling she would. He might even take her twice more.

  “Good morning,” she sighed, smoothing her hand across his chest. Her cheek was pressed to his chest, one leg thrown over his thighs. Her black hair was spread out behind her, draped over his arm around her back.

  He smiled, realizing that, except for some whispered or groaned words before, they hadn’t said anything to each other that morning.

  “Now it is,” he answered, gently petting her shoulder.

  “Tell me more about the continent. I’ve now heard of the Black Sands and Stillwood. Where else have you been?” she murmured, her voice muted inside their pocket of privacy.

  He thought for a while with an audible “hmm”, wondering where to begin. He could tell her of the expansive and treacherous northern tundra, all three sections of it, which spanned across the northern part of the continent. Or of the area known to most as The Waste.

  “The Plentiful Plains are perhaps four days away on horseback, but a day closer is the southeastern edge of the Dead Swamps. I avoid them as I avoid the Black Sands. They are extremely uninhabitable to those not native to the area and the natives are dangerous themselves.”

  “Why are they called the Dead Swamps?” she asked, her fingers lightly exploring the bumps of his abdominal muscles.

  “They literally look dead. The light rain seems to never cease. The sky is always overcast, the mud is sometimes waist-deep and the plant life, what little there is, is leafless and sometimes rotting. The swamps stretch on for miles and miles…for days. On top of water traps that might suck you in if you’re not paying attention, the lack of companionship for a single traveler can instill a deep depression, making you feel just as lifeless as the swamp looks.”

  “How can anyone live there?” she asked, thinking of the deep mud.

  “There are spots of land high enough to support buildings. Villages are small, few and far between. The natives do not like visitors, especially ones who seduce the only unattached female,” he winced, remembering a night of escape from a woman’s room into the pitch-black night. Rosuke was on his heels as they tramped through the mud with absolutely no light to show the way. They had been lucky that their horses could hear their whistles and were able to come to their aid.

  “You are speaking from experience,” she said, her voice turning a bitter note. “You and Rosuke must have gone there together, right?”

  “Are you all right? You sound strange,” he asked, turning his head a bit to look down at her, but her face wasn’t at the right angle for him to look at her expression.

  It was strange, but feelings of jealousy were rising up inside her and it wasn’t only from knowing that he had been with countless women before her. She wasn’t supposed to be jealous of such a thing when she didn’t even like him.

  Well…that wasn’t true. She had come to like him. He wasn’t what he had seemed to be and she found that she wanted to help him. He had been human after all. Not only that but he had been one of the highest-ranking humans. One of the differences between him and her was that she had never been high-ranking. She didn’t know what it was like to fall from grace the way he had, or the way any of her ancestors had and he had to live with being exactly what he had fought against.

  So perhaps she was a bit jealous of his previous lovers because she liked him, but her feelings of jealousy sprang mostly from being stuck in this tiny village. She wanted to travel too. She wanted to have adventure. She wanted to see the endless expanses of swamps, dodging unfriendly natives. She wanted to see the city of tree houses in Stillwood. She wanted to see the heat waves rising from the Black Sands, though at a safe distance of course.

  “You’ve been to so many places and the farthest I have been is merely the neighboring village. I wish to see what you have seen, to experience it. The world feels so much bigger when I’m with you and I have this strange urge to embrace it,” she whispered, her eyes staring into space as she imagined the gray, watery swamps, the sizzling black sands and the lush, quiet forest.

  “You can have your wish, Shumei,” he said, tilting her head up to look at him. “End our deal, and I will be glad to take you wherever you wish.”

  Her lips parted at his generous offer, but she knew that she couldn’t leave, at least not yet. She had just learned something extraordinary with her last visit to the witch.

  “You haven’t asked me about the kiss I received yesterday,” she said, changing the topic. He showed no outward reaction to her blatant dodge either. She knew he had felt the kiss on his lips when it happened—that he would know that the witch had not only kissed her this time but had also squeezed her bare breasts with a roaming hand.

  “I was a bit preoccupied with taking off your clothes,” he explained and she wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not.

  “I asked her about the Incubus Curse.” She felt him stiffen underneath her, verifying the name of the spell that had turned him demon.

  “You kissed her and let her touch you…just to ask about my curse?” he asked, his voice a bit hard.

  “Yesterday, I removed what I assume was some sort of spell that the witch had cast on the village leader’s wife,” she began, but he interrupted her.

  “You performed magic in front of the village leader’s wife?” he asked, incredulous. She lifted her head to look at the tight expression on his face. “Why haven’t you been banished from the village yet?”

  “She promised silence in exchange for my own silence. It doesn’t look good if your blondie leaders are being bullied with magic…but that’s not the point. If I could break her spell when I’ve had no training then perhaps I can someday dissolve your curse,” she said with a bit of fervor. “I asked the witch about it and she said there was a counter-ritual to unmake the magic binding you to your sexuality.”

  “She knows about me?” he asked, his voice as incredulous as before. “By the Gods, Shumei, you risked yourself in front of the village leader’s wife and now this…”

  “No, I asked her in the vaguest way I could think of. I would not let our secret be known to anyone I don’t trust and I don’t trust her, but she has knowledge that I need.”

  “You could have asked me, Shumei. I now only have the limited kind of magic granted to a sex demon but I still know everything I learned in the dark court. I do not want you to let that woman near you. She can cast spells on you with a kiss, or even just a touch. She is dangerous,” he said vehemently, sitting up. She was forced to sit up as well.

  “What would I have to trade with you to get answers to my questions?” she asked flippantly. “You already have my body and I have no money
. The last payment you could ask is one I will not give.” She spoke firmly, pulling her dress toward her to cover her nudity. She was tired of being naked during their fights.

  “I would not ask for any payment,” he ground out, his anger obvious. “To be allowed to talk to someone about magic, about my past, is a great relief that I didn’t know I could have until you asked. You didn’t trust me enough to even ask if I would answer your questions. Did I not tell you about the history of the way things used to be before magic was cast to the side? Did I not tell you of my own sordid history, including things that make me sound like the worst sort, whether human or demon?”

  His voice sounded accusatory and hurt. She suddenly realized with contrition that being the only person to whom he had told his story was a rarity she hadn’t even noticed. Probably none of his previous lovers had even known about his human past. He had trusted her with something painful, and she had too readily flaunted his possible existence in front of the witch’s face.

  Vallen couldn’t hide his pain in that moment. By her own admission and even knowing that the witch was practicing the evil side of magic, Shumei had gone to her for information so that she could rid herself of him. The possibility of breaking his curse was merely a lucky side effect.

  He wasn’t sure why he should be bothered by it though. Why wouldn’t she seek the advice of someone she knew to break her bonds with a demon? He should have been gladdened to know that he might be finally free of his curse but to know that she was trying to escape him…that was bothering him.

  “Did you not have such conversations with Rosuke?” She answered his questions with a question, pulling her gaze to his face as it accidentally wandered to his uncovered lap. He didn’t seem to acknowledge her wandering eyes.

  “Losing our magic that night…even now, talking about it is painful,” he said, shaking his head and closing his eyes briefly as his mind was turned to older memories. “That warm weight you feel inside was pulled out of me. I thought I was bleeding from my mouth and eyes. We were all screaming as the most precious piece of us was ripped away. How could I talk about that with Rosuke? How could I dig it up, knowing that the memory would hurt him?” She felt her chest tighten as tears stung the backs of her eyelids. She had a sudden intense desire to take away the pain he was revisiting. It was in his voice and she almost lifted her arms to him.

  After all, she had begun to feel a certain attachment to the solid lump of warmth in her belly. It seemed to react to her moods but in a way that told her it was on her side. She felt a protective urge to wrap her arms around her stomach as she imagined a curse tearing out that part of her.

  “Tell me about him.” Rosuke was definitely the person to whom Vallen was closest. She felt an odd but burning curiosity to know about his friendship with the one who had shared his fate and besides, it would make him feel better to talk about a loved one.

  “Rosuke?” he said softly, his eyes staring at a nearby pillow as if distracted. Then his face seemed to soften. “He’s my best friend. I was an only child and he’s the brother I never had. I trust him with my life.”

  “What was he like?” she asked, clutching her dress closer to her chest.

  “Was?” His voice was soft. She grimaced and was quick to correct herself.

  “I mean, before the curse…I’m sure he changed afterward.” It wouldn’t do to imply that Rosuke had died in the last fifteen years. Vallen had already lost so much.

  “Well…he was always funny. Quick to make a joke. He made me laugh and he was so confident.”

  “What does he look like?” she asked, making sure to use present tense this time.

  “Black hair, of course, but he likes to keep his very long. Blue eyes like mine, but darker. The women of the court used to say that mine were the color of the summer sky, and his were the color of a deep ocean. His face…even after fifteen years without him, I remember it. He has a very pretty face, I suppose. I was never as good-looking as him,” he sighed.

  She was a bit taken aback at that. Just looking at Vallen made her mouth water. She thought him the handsomest man she had ever seen. This Rosuke was better looking?

  “What is he like now?” she asked.

  “He still makes jokes, but they’re…bitter. Sometimes, when we rested our horses and sat together, I would look at him and see a completely different person. He looked…dead inside,” he finished, the pain evident in his voice.

  “Why did no one cure you? Surely others would know of the counter-ritual?” she asked. He swallowed, his thoughts pulled away from older memories and his voice picked up as the subject changed.

  “The noblewoman had bound herself to one of the demon generals, but no one in the dark court had learned of this. In return for her soul, the demon general gave her incredible powers, including a book that was lost soon after she was killed. The curse and the cure vanished with the disappearance of that book. My father, realizing that he and his men had destroyed the only person who knew the counter-ritual, searched for the Devil’s Hand.”

  “The Devil’s Hand? Is that the spell book’s name?” she asked.

  “Well, no. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t seen or possessed the book knows its real name, but it’s my only clue for identifying it. The book’s black cover is said to have a large handprint pressed into the surface.”

  “So your father never found any trace of it?” she guessed, her shoulders sagging a bit.

  “No.” He looked away, bringing up one knee to lean his arm against it. She looked to the well-displayed cock sitting innocently in the white curls of hair at the tops of his thighs and felt her heart skip a beat.

  Her mind was working furiously though. The witch had known about the curse and the cure, saying that the details were lost to her because the spells were in a language she didn’t know.

  “Vallen…the language we are speaking now, is it different from what was spoken in the dark court?” she asked carefully, fighting to keep her mind from jumping ahead too soon. He turned his head to look at her again, surprise and confusion on his face.

  “Yes. We are now speaking Common. It was the language of the lower classes. Its grammar and writing system is completely different from the court’s language, Mahou. The court language was entirely based upon the first empress, Suzu, who would speak in tongues for days at a time, having been touched by the Divine One during her meditations with Him. It is the language of magic.”

  “If someone who speaks Common—who can barely read or write it—saw a written form of Mahou, would they be able to study it and learn it on their own?”

  “No, it’s impossible. It would never make any sense. They would have to learn it from one who knows Mahou, and that is probably a very few number of people.”

  “Do demons know it?”

  “Demons can speak many tongues, including Mahou. Any of the demon generals know dozens of languages, some of them long-forgotten, even to me,” he slowly explained, not sure where she was going with her line of questions.

  “What if I told you that the Devil’s Hand might be in the witch’s possession?” she whispered, her eyes locked with his. His body stiffened, and his hand fisted as he took in a deep breath. His eyes were unconvinced.

  “I would say that I didn’t believe you. My father spent the rest of his life looking for that book. Rosuke and I searched for it for dozens of years after his passing.” He broke eye contact with her, lightly shaking his head and briefly closing his eyes. “After a while, we began to lose hope and eventually gave up. It wasn’t long before we even forgot why we were traveling. We forgot what questions we were supposed to ask. All we knew was that a woman’s touch could keep us alive.”

  “But did your long search turn up any evidence that the book had been destroyed?” she asked, leaning forward to touch his arm, which flexed under her grip.

  “Like I said, the book disappeared. No one knew anything about it, not even if it was destroyed. Given that, I still wouldn’t believe that the book sits s
o close at hand. The knowledge that the witch gave you is common enough for a woman who passes in secret circles that study magic. It’s highly unlikely that she would have it,” he said, dropping his head and shaking it again.

  He didn’t want to hope. Of all the things he had lost that fateful night…his status in the dark court, his magic, his humanity…the one thing he had lost, long after he had become a demon, was the most painful. He had lost hope.

  To lose it again would be unbearable.

  “That wasn’t all she said about the ritual. She described parts of it, saying that some of the details were unreadable because she couldn’t decipher it. She talked of a complicated, special circle, which is supposed to be the most difficult part of the curse,” she began to explain. His face slowly began to raise, his eyes intense. “At the center of the circle, the man to be cursed is placed on an altar.” His nostrils flared as he took in a sudden, deep breath, but he didn’t interrupt. “The witch didn’t know how it’s used in the ritual, but the main component of the spell is the man’s semen. Once the component has been consumed, though, the focus casts the Incubus Curse by reciting an invocation.”

  Vallen let out a harsh sound, releasing the breath he had been holding. The naked shock on his face confirmed that Majo had known more than anyone should have. His hand lost its fist, his eyes widened and his mouth parted.

  She had it. Majo had the Devil’s Hand.

  It explained why the witch had trouble making her spells work and why she hadn’t actually done more damage by now. She couldn’t read all of it. It also explained why she was using magic powerful enough to kill off dozens of people, to suck the life from another and to perform vain enhancements on others using potions mixed with rice wine. It explained why she always ordered such large amounts of herbs and roots.