Demons of Desire

by Debra Dunbar

  “Look, if it will make you feel better, I’ll ask Ourson. I’ll find out what their criteria and methods are for turning humans, and I’ll ask about Eloise’s history. Just please don’t offend them. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  That sobered her up. Darci took a few deep breaths and loosed her death grip on the back of the chair. “Thank you; I’d appreciate it. This is my city, and I really want to know if there’s someone preying on children this way.”

  At that time, the front wall of the room transformed from dark, smoky glass to clear, as the room before us lit up. I’d seen these types of windows before. We could see everything, but those inside would only see their own reflections on the walls. I motioned Darci to sit and poured champagne, trying to put myself into the right frame of mind for the show. I needed to do this for Jordan, for her coven, for the trees dying in the bayou south of the city.

  As if sensing my struggle, Darci took her champagne, her eyebrows arching as she nodded toward the room before us. “Now this is more my style. Heck, I might have to give Gavin a booty call after this.”

  I turned and sank into the chair, my legs suddenly unable to support me. The room was staged with a hard wooden chair, an intricate pattern of candles around the floor, and in the middle of it all, a naked man. He knelt, forced into position by manacles that bound his wrists and ankles to metal rings embedded into the floor. His head was rigid as he looked at the floor, a thick collar around his neck studded with silver. We watched him for a few moments in silence, then the music began. It was languorous, like smoke dancing across our senses.

  A door on the far side of the room opened with a snick, and a pirouetting calliope of colored silk scarves entered. The man’s gaze remained on the floor, but as the prancing feet came within his view, he lifted his head. Agony shot across his face, and a drop of blood pooled at the edge of the collar. As a reward, the dancing woman shed a scarf, teasing the silk across his naked back before she discarded it.

  As long as the man kept his eyes on her, the woman continued to shed her gauzy garments. The moment he dropped his head to relieve the spikes digging into his neck, she stopped, dancing around him until he couldn’t bear to keep his gaze from her any more. Blood streaked his neck, and his body shook as he watched the woman dance, entranced by the seductive swaying of her body.

  Finally, she tore the last scarf from her hips, revealing only smooth dark flesh and a few strategically placed piercings. The kneeling man groaned, every muscle straining against the chains that held him to the floor. At this point, he was insensible to the pain at his neck, to the blood that trickled slowly from the lower edge of the collar. The woman dropped to her knees before him, and her pink tongue lapped at the stains of red, her hands busy with the cuffs that bound him. His hands released, she pushed him onto his back and worked at his ankle chains, her teeth nipping up the inside of his thighs.

  Even with his legs free, he held completely still, his eyes riveted on the woman. Her eyes met his with the intensity of an inferno. On his back, the man’s cock rose like an ebony tower between his thighs. It was an impressive erection. I was glad a thick glass wall separated us, because I had a desperate desire to join them.

  “Holy cow,” Darci breathed beside me. I could feel her arousal, sense it as her energy spiraled into me. It was exquisite— the couple, the observers in other rooms, Darci. Their energy filled me, and I stretched like a contented cat.

  Holy cow indeed. The woman crawled over top of the man, keeping eye contact the entire way. Straddling him, she rose up on her knees, hovering above him, teasing, tormenting with the promise of completion.

  With a swift downward movement, she dropped onto him, sheathing his entire length in one thrust. I gasped as the energy flooded into me. The man groaned and raised his hips, trying for an impossible depth of penetration. The woman’s smile was almost cruel as she rode him, leaning back and then dropping forward onto her palms to change the angle. The man’s face was rigid with tension, his eyes never leaving her face. The woman rose to her knees once more, increasing the tempo and driving the rhythm into an erratic frenzy. She tossed back her head, crying out as she slammed down onto him, rotating her pelvis against his.

  Still he remained tense, his eyes on hers. Aftershocks trembled her body and finally she looked down, true affection on her face as she reached a hand forward to caress his cheek and unclasp the collar from his neck.

  “Well done, my love. And now I will allow you to come.”

  The look in his eyes came closer to worship than anything I’d ever seen. “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Her tempo increased once more, purposeful and steady. It only took a dozen strokes before the tremors shook his body and he cried out his pleasure. I watched her caress his side with a firm hand, and the window closed.

  “Good?” Darci’s voice was hoarse, as if she’d smoked a pack of unfiltered cigarettes.

  “Good.” I wasn’t surprised to hear my voice sounded the same.

  The sultry heat outside felt almost chill after the intimate warmth of the peep room. Darci drew a ragged breath, rubbing her face with both palms as I looked for Jordan’s car.

  “Do you need a lift?” I asked, waving at Jordan in her Honda across the street.

  “Uh, no. I think I need to walk that one off a bit. Then take a really long shower. Then go visit Gavin. Don’t expect me home tonight, okay?”

  I laughed, giving her a quick hug. “Glad it wasn’t a total bust for you. Thanks again for coming with me.”

  Darci tugged a lock of my blond hair. “Yeah, just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  * * *

  15

  The city lights shone bright behind us in contrast with the dark shapes lining the road. Headlights only did so much to illuminate our way, and the sporadic flickering street lamps added to the spooky atmosphere. Clouds had moved back in with the setting of the sun. In the blackness, trees seemed like menacing creatures, waiting for us to turn our back on them before they attacked. Even Jordan sensed it, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel.

  “It’s not a good night for magic,” she said ominously. “I feel … something. It’s like another force is pressing down upon the ground — something dark and foul.”

  What the heck was I supposed to say to that? If I was uneasy before, Jordan’s doom–and–gloom speech did nothing to shore up my confidence. Yeah, I had enough energy from Bliss to heal a few acres of trees, but would it be enough? Something prickled like nettles along my skin, and I worried. Bev and her motives weren’t my only concern. There was something very wrong in the air tonight.

  The lights of the coven participants were a welcome glow, holding at bay the menacing shadows of trees draped with Spanish moss. Jordan parked, and we made our way, lit by her cell phone app, to the circle. Bev welcomed Jordan warmly, and me with a more frosty tone, then did a quick count.

  “Places everyone. Let’s begin.”

  We had thirty minutes to raise as much energy as possible then direct it toward our target at midnight. I doubted I could use any of their energy, but I figured between us all, we should have some results. Although I’d attended Wiccan ceremonies before, and my sex magic seemed to work well with their Beltane celebration, I wasn’t sure how compatible our spells would be. I only hoped that it augmented mine, or perhaps healed some of the trees that were beyond the grove I was targeting.

  Speaking of which — I couldn’t physically reach any of the trees, and it worried me. I’d never done this before. Not only couldn’t I touch them, I couldn’t even see them in the pitch black of the moonless night. The enhanced vision of my elf heritage was negated by the candles flickering around the edges of the circle, and the fire just behind the altar in the center.

  I took my place beside Darci and watched with respectful silence as a man sprinkled a line of salt around the circle, murmuring an incantation as he went. As he completed the clockwise round, voices lifted in invocation, locking the perimeter
as tight as a steel fence. A woman dressed in darkest green stepped forward and hailed the north quarter, lighting a candle the same color as her robe. Another came forward to summon the east, praising the element of air as she lit the candle. I could feel their energy, sharp and smooth, hot and cool against the part of me that dwelled beneath my skin. I couldn’t absorb it, but I appreciated the power and beauty it carried.

  Each direction and their complementing element was called to the quarter, honored and summoned to tighten the bonds of the circle. The ladies stepped back as Jason and Bev approached the altar. When I’d seen them earlier, I’d envisioned a sort of business partnership, but now the spiritual nature of their connection became clear. Short and tall, round and thin, young and old — it all balanced into a perfect equilibrium of energies as they lifted the goblet with joined hands.

  “The deep well of our Lady I hold in my hands,” Bev intoned, her voice ringing with power. “Life and death, comfort and pain, the pang of desertion, the embrace of the Mother. She surrounds us, the circle of seasons, the chaotic nature of the eternal cycle.”

  Jason removed his hands from the chalice and picked up the double–edge knife — the athame. “The Lord of the cycle, the one who is born each year and dies by its end. Child of the Lady, lover of the Lady, the one who dies by Her hand. He brings us balance and order, a promise of life eternal.”

  Slowly he plunged the athame into the goblet, holding it in the depths as he spoke. “Thus we are joined. Only through the union of order and chaos are balance and bliss achieved.”

  “So mote it be,” Bev intoned.

  “So mote it be,” we all replied.

  Jordan motioned me forward, and I stepped toward the altar. Both priest and priestess turned to face me. Jason removed the athame, and Bev extended the goblet toward me.

  “May the blessing of our Lord and Lady aid you in your task. May the power we raise aid the earth to heal. Amber Lowry, you are the right hand of our energy. Harm none, and let the Lady guide you.”

  I nodded, unsure what to say and took the proffered goblet, sipping the spiced wine. The Bon Nuit coven had good taste and deep pockets when it came to ceremonial beverages. I was momentarily tempted to take the goblet and run, but reluctantly surrendered it back into Bev’s hands. She and Jason made a circuit to each member, giving them the blessings and charging them with the task at hand. The air grew thick and heavy with purpose. I felt the confines of the circle like a snug blanket tucked too tight under the mattress — warm and safe, but restrictive. The succubus in me was uneasy, and I hoped she’d soon get with the program.

  Jason pulled a small flute from his pocket, and a haunting melody in a minor chord filled the air. Bev began the chant, and after the first line, everyone else’s voices joined hers. Swaying and dancing in tempo, the entire coven moved in a clockwise direction, circling the altar.

  Oh Sun, invigorate us with your light

  Moon, bring us strength through the night

  Wind carry truth

  River bring youth

  Your power from us unloose

  I felt the energy of the group like an increasing amp of electricity, swirling in a vortex within the circle. My own power rose to the surface, my fingers tingling. How to get it to the cypress grove almost twenty feet away in standing water without leaving the circle? I had to hope that what I’d been planning would work. Slowly I absorbed the coven’s energy, feeling slightly ill and off balance from its unusual signature. Thankfully, it began to mesh with my own, forming something that felt like heat on soft fur — just this side of discomfort.

  Bev nodded, giving me the sign that the group had reached maximum potential, and I focused my mind on the cypress grove in front of me, visualizing it as healthy and strong — and about two feet taller with a complimentary increase in width. Unbidden, a word came to my lips, and I made the sign of the horns with my left hand — index and little finger pointed toward the ground.

  Fecundity.

  An orange light shot from me to the circle, halting at the edge of the salt line and spinning around it with a fiery blaze. A few of the coven shrieked, jumping forward to avoid being set alight. Bev said something that sounded like “Dratted demons.” Then nudged her foot into the salt line to break the containment.

  Like a burst of orange lightning, the energy streamed outward and lit up the cypress grove in an explosion of sparks before vanishing and leaving all once more shadowed in the dark black of night.

  My eyesight took a while to adjust, and I held my breath, terrified that I’d set the trees on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d done that, although, given the complete absence of light, I assumed there was no on–going damage. Slowly my eyes adjusted, and Bev turned on a flashlight. When the circle had been broken, everything had gone out in a rush of air. The fire, the candles — all reacted as though there were a sudden, airless vacuum. The humans gasped, and Bev weakly gave the intonation to break the circle and close the ritual.

  Unsure of what to do, and feeling as though I’d been running for two days straight, I staggered back to Jordan at the edge of the now–open circle. Others milled about, chatting.

  “How did I do?” I was half afraid to ask.

  Jordan shook her head. “I don’t know. I felt something, but I can’t see the tree grove enough to tell what happened and if we had any success.”

  Jason left the group and drove his truck toward us, flicking on the high beams in the direction of the cypress grove. There stood a thick group of trees, dark green and noticeably thicker and taller. They’d multiplied, and there were twice as many trees spreading through the swamp as before, the nursery logs all showing significant growth. A cheer went up, and everyone hugged — well, everyone but me. Jordan, noticing my exclusion, gave me a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

  “You know, we couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you, Amber.”

  It didn’t matter if no one else thanked me. Jordan had, and I felt a deep sense of satisfaction through my exhaustion. I’d never done anything like this before.

  “We’re going to Maxwell’s to celebrate,” Jason said, giving me a warm smile. “Join us?”

  “No thanks.” I appreciated his offer, but I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was go back to Darci’s and sleep, but my deadline from Irix was long overdue. No rest for the wicked. I planned to change clothes and head back to Bliss, where I’d hopefully not doze off while watching people have sex. With some luck, I’d have enough energy by the time Irix tracked me down to buy myself another day or two.

  * * *

  16

  Luck is clearly not my friend. No sooner had Jordan dropped me off at Darci’s apartment than there was a knock at the door. Not only did I refuse to answer it, but I frantically dove behind a chair and covered my head with a cushion from the sofa. Darci had her key, and I didn’t expect her home from Gavin’s until morning. It sure as heck wasn’t the pizza delivery guy at the door.

  “Amber, I know you’re in there. Answer the damned door.”

  Nope. I cowered under the cushion and held my breath. He sounded really pissed, as if he knew that I’d failed yet again. A pissed Irix was a sexy Irix, and my willpower was shot to hell as far as he was concerned. I was not answering that door.

  I heard a faint sigh, then some muttering about angels and stupid elf girls. Then I heard the click of the deadbolt and the whisper of a door opening.

  Shit. Oh, shit. Damned demons and their supernatural lock–picking abilities. I should have taken other precautions — asked Jordan and her coven for a can of demon repellant or something.

  The floor creaked over by the kitchen. I held absolutely still, praying the huge, ugly second–hand chair was concealing me from view. Footsteps by the bedroom. Two more doors open and shut, and the sound of the closet door opening. The footsteps came closer, and I heard him do a quick tour of the room. And then, like a miracle, I heard the front door open and close. The deadbolt secured. I let out a careful breath and w
aited.

  Mississippi one, Mississippi two. One whole minute I counted out in my head. Demons were notoriously impatient. There was no way one of them would have stood motionless in an apartment for that long. He was gone. But just in case, I lowered the sofa cushion to the floor and peeked around the edge of the purple chair.

  And looked right into a set of golden eyes. Furious golden eyes.

  The scream I let out could have woken the dead. It didn’t phase Irix one bit. As I tried to scramble backwards, his hand shot out to grab my arm, and he dragged me from behind the chair. Literally dragged. I was going to have some serious rug burn from this encounter — if I survived, that is.

  “Ow. Stop. You’re bruising my arm.”

  I should have held my breath. Irix’s grip tightened, and he lifted me up, tossing me onto the sofa like a bag of groceries. I bounced and sprawled in a very unladylike posture while he loomed over me, caging me in with his arms.

  “I will do far more than bruise you, half–breed. When I tell you to meet me somewhere, you will be there promptly. When I call or text, you are to immediately respond.”

  When had he called? Oh shit — I’d turned my phone off at Bliss and had forgotten to turn it back on. Not that he gave me the slightest chance to explain.

  “You are to answer me when I call. I won’t have you ignoring me while I race all over the damned city looking for you. You are to do as I say without hesitation, without question. Do you understand?”

  Having him so close was wrecking my concentration, but his fury over what had been a simple mistake, plus the ridiculous demands for obedience cut through the fog of desire.

  “Should I be wearing a French maid costume and crawl around on the floor after you, too?”

  I was positive the sarcasm conveyed, but the unholy light in his eyes seemed to indicate he thought I was making a valid suggestion. He leaned closer, and one hand left the sofa for my pants. My breath lodged in my throat at the thought of what he might do, but instead of popping the snap at the waistband, he dug into my pocket and pulled out my phone.