by Lili Detlev
Claimed by Her Demon
By: Lili Detlev
Copyright 2014 by Lili Detlev
Kindle Edition
Cover Art by Michelle Cary
All rights reserved. This publication is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This publication may not be reproduced, re-sold or given away to another person or people without written permission from the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, events, places and names are all products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any event or location is entirely coincidental. This is also a work of erotic fiction, and is not intended for minors. All characters depicted as engaging in sexual activity are consenting adults of legal age.
Melinda loved being a Goth girl.
She loved gaming and cosplay, movies and books, studying and learning.
What she didn’t love was being grabbed from behind. Especially not after a late night at the university’s library. Most especially not when a cloth bag was thrown over her head and she was tossed roughly into the trunk of a vehicle.
She had plenty of time to assess her situation. Her hands had been tied behind her back, and her feet were also bound. It looked grim on the surface. But the sound of the other voices in the car reassured her, at least a bit.
They were all male, and they sounded young and cocky. Based on the bits of conversation she’d heard, they were members of a fraternity, and this was apparently a hazing ritual. So she wasn’t going to scream. Even if they decided to do things to her, she would give them no satisfaction.
As it turned out, the men just dumped her onto a hard wooden floor. Most of them left immediately, but one stayed behind.
“I just want to make sure we’ve got time to bail,” he said to the others.
“Make it quick,” a voice answered.
“Use a rubber,” another one said. “Unless you want babies with black eyeliner.”
She listened to the sounds of footsteps retreating.
The first voice whispered close to her ear. “I’m really sorry about all this. If I’d known they were going to kidnap someone, I never would have driven them out here.” She heard something “thunk” into the wooden floor. Then she felt the knots at her wrists loosen.
“C’mon, dude! Finish up and let’s go.”
“I’m sorry.” The voice said again. “I got the knots loose, and there’s an open pocket knife stuck into the wood by your feet. You’re only a few miles out of town. Good luck.”
Then she heard the sound of footsteps rushing away, and a car engine start up. As the vehicle sped off and the sound of its engine faded away, Melinda sat up and scooted around until she found the pocketknife. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
#
Melinda was free from her bonds, but for the time being she was stuck in some kind of old country house. Heavy rain lashed down, driven by howling wind, punctuated by claps of thunder and flashes of lightning. She had no desire to explore her dark shelter, but leaks in the roof had water cascading into the room where she’d been dropped, so she scooted back further into the house. She used lightning to guide her steps, until she rested her back against the side of a stone fireplace. Here, at least, it was relatively dry. She sank to the floor, resigned to riding out the storm, curing the fact that the assholes who’d kidnapped her still had her backpack in their car. In addition to her books, phone and Student ID, there was an extra shawl in the bag, which would have come in handy at the time. She hoped she got her stuff back.
The thunder receded, but the rain beat steadily down. And the next flash of lightning revealed a problem far more pressing than her missing items.
Something was in the house with her.
Melinda’s heart humped wildly. She’d never been one to be afraid of the dark. In fact, given her taste in music and clothes, she embraced it and felt comfortable there. But that was when she was alone or with people she knew. Whatever this thing was, it didn’t look like any human she’d ever met, even the ones in costume.
Please let that be a statue.
Another flicker of lightning revealed that it had moved closer.
Her breath sped up, and she fished for the pocketknife she’d kept after cutting herself free. It suddenly seemed pathetically small.
Whatever happens, I will not scream.
She didn’t know if she could keep that promise though.
Then there was a sudden blaze of light. She shielded her eyes, dropping her ad hoc weapon in the process. Before she could open her eyes and adjust to the brightness, she heard a low, rumbling growl. And then there was a voice.
“What are you doing here?”
#
She blinked several times. It sounded like the fireplace beside her was crackling, and sconces along the walls were suddenly glowing with flame. A dark shape loomed in front of her. She could only discern that it was big, and seemed to have some kind of cape. As her vision cleared further, she saw luminous green eyes set closely over a snout full of long fangs. And what she’d thought was a cape spread out into a pair of leathery black wings.
Melinda gasped. Her stomach clenched and roiled, and she tried to squeeze herself into the wall behind her.
The monster spoke again. “I asked you a question. I do not like repeating myself.”
She worked her mouth, trying to get a sound out. “Who-what are you?”
The monster roared.
Melinda couldn’t help shrieking as she cover her ears. Her body shook so badly that, if she’d been standing upright, she surely would have collapsed. As it was, she was teetering on the edge of passing out.
“Puny human. How dare you question me? I should flay your skin from your bones and feast on you organs!”
As quickly as it’d risen up, the fear washed away, replaced instead by indignation that swelled into anger and threatened to explode into rage. Melinda pulled herself upright and stared into those wicked eyes.
“Are you fucking serious? I mean really? Are you fucking kidding me? If you live here, you know damn well I was brought against my will. If you want to feast on someone’s organs, go hunt down the shitbags that kidnapped me. Hell, I’ll be happy to hold those fuckers down while you gut them. Give me something bigger than the pocketknife lying around her somewhere, and I might even help.”
She saw the eyes blink, and then the creature roared again, lunging at her. Melinda didn’t even have time to scream. Her throat was grabbed in a crushing grip, her body pushed hard into the wall behind her. She gagged under the force of it.
The creature snarled, it’s fangs dripping mere inches from her nose. She drew in a gasping breath, trying to push the air down into her lungs. Her head swam again. She clenched her teeth. “Fuck… you,” she hissed. With the last of her strength, she drove her fist up into the creature’s snout. Darkness crept into the edge of her vision as the thing bellowed in response. She waited for the crack of her throat being crushed, or the searing pain of teeth ripping into her. Maybe the claws on those devastating hands would puncture her neck, severing arteries and veins. But before the blackness swamped her, the pressure at her throat released. Melinda exhaled, coughing, and finally took in a lungful of air.
The creature studied her as she blinked the stars out of her eyes. She tried to focus enough to stare defiantly back. It’s lip curled in a snarl that spread into a wicked smile.
“Most people in your position would be begging for their lives,” it said. “I can feel you trembling. I can feel your fear. Yet you do not cower. Very curious.”
She tried to stop her legs from shaking, but it was no use. Melinda sniffed and forced herself to answer. “I was kidnapped. I had a bag thrown over my head; I was tied up and tossed into the trunk of a car. For all I knew, I was going to be raped and murdered. For all I know, I actually was, and now I’m dead. So you tell me: why should I bother cowering?”
It loosened its hold further; but as it did so, thick chains rattled out of the wall and floor, fastening around her wrists and ankles. The creature stepped back. “I assure you, my lovely, that you are not dead.”
“Then what are you, and what do you want with me?”
It didn’t answer. Instead, it walked out to the porch of the house. When it came back in, she recognized her backpack clutched in its claws.
“While you were freeing yourself from their ropes, I dealt with your kidnappers. I found this in the trunk of their car. You have some interesting things in it.”
It opened the bag and pulled out her books, her tablet computer, her phone and wallet. He stacked each item on the floor.
“Did you kill them?” she asked.
“No. They’ll wake up with concussions and some broken bones, and think they went off the road. Their car is crumpled against a tree. But they had seatbelts and airbags, so they’ll live.” It opened the front pouch of her backpack and pulled out a simple cloth bag that was closed with a drawstring. “Well, well. What have we here?”
Melinda swallowed hard.
Her backpack dropped to the floor with a soft plop, and the creature worked open the bag. It chuckled as it pulled out a thick deck of tarot cards. “Beautiful,” it said, stepping closer to her. It held the deck up in front of her face. “There is much wisdom to be found in these pretty pictures. Tell me, my sweet, do you spend your time summoning creatures like me to do your dark bidding?”
“I don’t even know what you are.”
“Some of your kind would call me a demon.”
“I don’t believe in summoning such things.”
“Nevertheless, here I stand.”
“If you’re here, it’s because you chose to come. I try to follow the Wiccan path. But I don’t believe in deities.”
“Yet you consult an oracle like the tarot.”
“It helps me to think and focus. And you said it yourself: the artwork is beautiful.”
“And the spells you cast?”
“I’m not a witch. I just like the simple spirituality of that belief system. I’m not perfect, and yeah, when I was a kid I played with Ouija boards and other silly games. I like wearing black and listening to Goth music. People make fun of my hair colors and my clothes. But these things make me happy. Nothing more, nothing less.”
It stared at her for a bit more, and then seemed to come to some kind of a decision. It nodded once, and the chains dropped away from her limbs. But Melinda didn’t move a muscle.
It held the deck out to her. “Will you read them for me?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“A reading. You know how to do a reading, yes?”
“I, er, guess so. I mean, yes, I know how to do a reading. But….”
“But?”
She reached for the cards, taking comfort in their worn familiarity.
“But I don’t even know your name.”
“You may call me Ramael.”
She sounded the name out slowly. “Rah-may-el? I’m Melinda. So, um, is there a table I can use?”
“Follow me.”
The house looked much less dilapidated now that it was lit with torchlight. There had to be some serious magic at work here. Melinda decided that she was still probably dead, or maybe dreaming, and wouldn’t believe otherwise until she was back on campus and talking to other people who could tell her that she was alive and whole. In the meantime, at least she wasn’t tied up or bound by chains. Whatever else happened, she was pretty sure she’d never be turned on by bondage again.
The entered a small but elegant dining room. Or at least it was turning elegant. She caught a glimpse of it just as Ramael entered, and it seemed abandoned and crumbling. But by the time she stepped over the threshold, lights shone off of gleaming hardwood floors, and an elegant table appeared, surrounded by four high-backed chairs.
“How did you do that?”
Ramael gave her what appeared to be a smile. “The magic is not in the beauty, but in the illusion of ugliness.”
“So this is what it normally looks like?”
“It is.”
“Whoa.”
He motioned to a chair at one end of the table. “Please.”
She sat. The demon took the chair to her right. She felt a thrill of fear and excitement as it opened the massive wings on its back, then refolded them over the back of the seat. “Can you fly with those?”
“I can.”
“Neat.”
She shuffled her cards from hand to hand, then split the deck and bridge-shuffled them a few times. The demon studied her movements. Melinda took comfort in the riffle and purr of the cards as they mixed and fell into place. Sometimes she shuffled them just for the sound. It calmed her, eased her nerves, made her feel a bit lighter. It didn’t matter if there was magic involved with tarot or not. The motions of shuffling and laying out cards, and the pictures on them, made her happy. Any information she derived from it, whether by fate or subconscious association, was simply a bonus.
“So, what do you want me to read about?”
“I don’t really know. A general reading I guess.”
Melinda snorted a laugh. “Sorry. That’s what everyone says. People are so scared of these cards. Or of me for reading them. No one wants to trust me enough to tell me what they really want to know.”
“Very well. What should I do with you?”
It was hard to keep a tremor out of her voice. “Neither the cards nor I can make your decisions for you. But I can do a spread that will maybe give you an idea of what the options and likely consequences are.”
She finished shuffling the deck. Before laying out the cards, however, she scooted her chair around the table so that she was sitting beside the creature.
“It’s easier for me to read next to the person, so they can see what I’m seeing,” she said. “Do you want to choose the cards, or do you want me to?”
“You’re the reader. You choose. Please.”
She split the deck into three piles, then pulled the top card from each, laying them out in an arrow shape, with the point at the top. She restacked the deck and set it aside. Then, one by one, she turned the cards over.
“Wow,” said, studying the images. The bottom left card showed The Papess. On the right was The Devil. At the top, between them, was the Two of Cups. Melinda pointed at the bottom two cards. “You sure you didn’t make these appear?”
Ramael’s attention was riveted to the spread. He shook his head slowly. “No, I did not. They seem appropriate though.”
“Um, I guess.”
“Tell me, my lovely, what do you see in them?”
She blew out a long breath. “I see mystery and wisdom combining with chaos and fear. They somehow find a balance and manage to work together symbiotically.”
Ramael snorted. “So. What does that mean for the question I posed?”
“I told you. The decision is yours. But based on what I’m seeing here, if you quiet your chaotic side a bit, and accept that some things may remain a mystery, then maybe you’ll find balance within.”
“A very diplomatic reading.”
“I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. What do you see in them?”
“That, I’m afraid, will have to remain a mystery for now.”
“Touché.” She gathered the cards up and shuffled them back into the deck. “Is there anything else you want me to read about?”
“No. Thank you for indulging me.”
“So what happens now?”
“What would you like to happen?”
Her voice was quiet when she answered. “I’d like
to go home.”
“Don’t you first want to take revenge on the men who forced you into their car and brought you to a demon’s lair?”
She shook her head.
“But they deserve it.”
“You crashed their car.”
“I did.”
“And injured them.”
“I’m sure one of them will wake up eventually and be able to call for help.”
“I guess the right thing to do would be to go to their car and call the police. That way they get treated, and I can still report them for what they did to me, so they won’t hurt anyone else. I won’t tell the cops about you though.”
Ramael shrugged a shoulder. “If the police come here, they will only see what I choose to show them.”
“So you’ll let me go?”
“Reluctantly. But yes. You’re far too interesting to hold prisoner.”
“Thanks. I think.”
The creature stood and held a clawed hand out to her. “Come with me. Their car isn’t far away.”
#
It was almost dawn by the time a State Police cruiser returned Melinda to her dorm room. Fortunately, few students were awake to ask why she was being brought back in a squad car.
She’d given a statement and shown then police her cut ropes as well as the pocketknife. The four young men in the car were all unconscious, with multiple fractures and other trauma. She had no way to identify them other than by the sounds of their voices. But given the marks on her wrists and ankles, the extra pieces of rope found in the car, and the prints that would eventually be found on the pocketknife, there was a lot of evidence even without a visual ID.
She trudged the steps up to her door room, swiped her ID to get in, and collapsed on her bed. Her roommate Adrienne stirred awake.
“Damn girl,” Adrienne mumbled. “Where the hell were you? Booty call?”
Melinda sighed. “It’s a really long story.”
“Was he hot?”
Aren’t all demons? “Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Adrienne mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “slut,” and rolled back over.
Melinda smiled. They name didn’t bother her. Not coming from her best friend. They teased each other all the time about hooking up with boys. Mainly because neither of them had much luck with it. Adrienne was considered too bookish and nerdy. And Melinda only seemed to appeal to gamers and guys who thought she’d be an easy lay.
