Friday, January 25, 2013

Taming Fire: Week 3

If you already read the previous intro to this last night, I'm sorry if I offended you.  Sometimes it's hard to translate my sense of humor into text, and it's even harder to know that you took it wrong. I didn't actually mean that my readers were whiners.  I was referring to the lot of you that sent me tweets and FB messages and emails over the wait time, expressing your excitement for the next installment.  It was merely a joke.  If you took it wrong, again, I'm sorry.  As my personality doesn't seem to come across in a sweet enough manner for my readers, I'm no longer going to post intros to my stories.  

This isn't me being pitiful, dramatic, or asking for you all to comment with sweet nothings.  This is just me being frank in a damn if you do, damn if you don't situation.  It stresses me out to know that I've pissed off my readers.  Furthermore, it makes me feel like absolute shit.  I know you guys love my stories, and I'm sorry for ever expressing my opinion in a manner that upset you or  made you think that I don't value each and every one of you.  Like I said, from now on, I won't be commenting on a personal level unless the post requires it.  Sorry again.


Instead of my usual intro to a story, here is the playlist from this installment.

Kate Boy - Northern Lights (Superhumanoids Remix)
Crystal Castles - Celestica

(Caution:  Turn down your speakers a bit)

Male Model: Marcel Castenmiller as Botis
(Marcell Castenmiller for Calvin Klein)

“Damn,” Emile whispered. 

He didn’t scare easily, but lately everything he knew about himself was kind of turning on end.  Right now, he was a bit freaked out.  The night air was crisp, nipping him through his hoodie.  The steep driveway had him out of breath, and the house itself gave no light to show him the way.  So he winged his way around the walkway, slowly keeping his balance as he carried a bag in each arm and attempted to drag the third.  By the time he made it up the wide, stone stairs of the porch, he felt ready to collapse.

It didn’t help that he felt eyes on him the whole time.  Someone was watching him through the darkened windows.  How he knew for sure was beyond him, but he wished he didn’t. Ignorance was truly bliss, he thought. The wraparound porch was empty, at least that he could see.  No cars were in the drive, but he had noticed the pavement continued around the house.  There could be a garage.  He hoped.  Man, he thought, I hope someone’s here.  He could always call Lim and get a ride, but seeing the hot jock again so soon after, yeah… had him on edge.  Their parting words freaked him out.  The whole Harry Potter bit with the bags still shook him.  This whole situation was fucked.

“Hello?”  He asked the door.  Duh, Emile, he thought, rolling his eyes.  The door isn’t going to just open itself or talk to you.  Setting his stuff down, he stared at the iron door knocker that looked to be… oh, yeah.  Those were fangs.  Seriously, what the fuck?  Pulling up his big boy britches, he tentatively slipped his fingers around the knocker.  Metal hit metal three times and he stepped away quickly.

Something shuffled behind the door.  The lights still didn’t go on.  Maybe they had a dog.  But dogs always barked when someone was at the door, didn’t they?  Fuck.  He took another step back.  “Hello?  I’m… I’m here for the housekeeping position.  My name is…”

The knob rattled and the door swung open a few inches.  “Um… hi?  I’m Emile?”  He swallowed, leaning to the side to get a better look at what was on the other side.  “Hello?”  He whispered.

A hand snapped around the door from inside.  Eyes wide, Emile gasped.  Even in the dark, he concluded that not even a ninety-five year old woman had hands that ghastly or nails that sharp.  He backed away, step by step, until his back hit a post on the porch.  “Hello?”  His voice was strangled.

Nails scratched down the wood, bringing his hands to his ears at the sound.  Run, he thought.  Leave your shit and run, Emile.  Heart racing in his chest, he watched the door fling wide open, completely frozen to the spot.  People always thought they’d run in a situation like this, but Emile found the terror incapacitated him.  He was helpless.   A few seconds went by.  Emile continued to have a staring contest with the darkened doorway.  A breeze blew in, rustling the leaves around the porch. 

He held his breath.  The light from inside flicked on and Emile let out a blood curdling scream.  Screw masculine.  Screw being an adult.  He was going to have a heart attack.  He clutched his chest as a corpse like figure opened its jaws and roared a sickly noise.  Black sockets where eyes should have been made his eyes roll back into his head.  Body going over the railing, Emile felt the wetness on the front of his pants, and scrambled to find his feet.  He was getting the fuck out of here.

“Oh fuck!  Oh my God!”  He shrieked, rolling around like he was on fire until he could grasp the concept of using his hands and feet.  On his knees, he screamed, “help me!  There’s a fucking zombie!”

“Oh, dear.  It’s okay.  You’re going to be okay.”  A voice made him choke on his own breath.  “Are you all right?”  Someone ran down the steps.

“Stay away from me!”  His hand pulled a rock from the border of the hedges, making out a silhouette in the dark.  “I’m armed.”

“With a rock?  I’ve never been threatened to be Fred Flinstoned to death.”  The female crossed her arms.  “Bo, would you turn on the porch light?  The housekeeper is here and I think he pissed himself.  I can smell it.”

Emile covered his groin in a hopeless attempt to hide his shame as the front light flicked on.  A tall, thin brunette was illuminated a few feet from him.  Gorgeous and harmless looking, Emile whirled around.  “No, no, no.  This is not happening,” he rushed.  Where the fuck did it go?  His nostrils flared and flattened over and over as he searched the bushes, the side of the house, jogged over to the drive, and even back up the porch steps.  “Did you see it, that thing?  It was just here!”

When he turned back to the door, a purple haired man lounged against the frame.  He held up a lit cigarette in surrender, cocking a brow.  “We don’t usually tolerate alcohol on the job, but if you can still manage to sweep the floors and dust, I could a give a rat’s ass what your poison is.  I assume you’re from the college and probably accustomed to a certain lifestyle, but you’ll find we live as adults around here.  Class it up a tad, would you?”  Botis’s eyes traveled down.  “And you might want to change.  Can’t very well have a housekeeper covered in piss, now can we?  It’s not sanitary.”

Emile choked out a girlish noise.  “What… No.  It was here,” he whispered.

“Give him a break, Botis.”  The brunette handed Emile one of his bags.  “It’s dark outside.  You never know what lurks in the night.”  Her cruel smile and light eyes scared him.  The way she said ‘lurks’ scared him even more.

“There was something out here.  I don’t just go around… pissing myself, if you must know.  I swear to God, I just saw a fucking corpse.”  Emile took the bag away from her cautiously.

She looked at Botis seriously, and they both started laughing.  “Well, aren’t you amusing?”  Botis purred.  “See dead people, do you?  There is a cemetery a few blocks down.  Maybe one of them needed a break from their nap.”  He sputtered smoke, chuckling.

“I’m not a liar.  I’m not drunk.  And I just saw a monster.”  Emile studied them both.  “I don’t know if this some new housekeeper hazing ritual, but you can count me out.  This is fucked and I can tell you both really don’t care.  I’ll call a cab.  This ain’t worth the money.”

“It’s not?”  Botis stepped forward.  “Everyone has a price, Emile.  And I would think our offer exceeded your expectations or you would not be on our doorstep, would you?”

Emile barked a laugh.  “What offer?  Room and board?  I’ll take one room and a pot to piss in over this freak show.” He slung one bag over his shoulder, slumping under its weight.

“You didn’t inform him in the email, Mosey?”

The brunette shrugged.  “Might have slipped my mind, it was rather late.”  Her eyes slid to Emile under her thick lashes.  God damn, she looked ready to eat him with her eyes.  “My bad.”

“Yeah, you seem pretty bad to me,” Emile said, no hesitation.  “What offer?”  He flicked his eyes to… “And who are you people?”

“Botis.”  He put a hand to his chest with his version of a warm smile.  It didn’t translate to Emile.  He still had the creeps doing the mambo under his skin.  “And that’s Mosey.”

“And?  What do you do?  You don’t look older than me, and you have this huge house.  You guys into drugs or something?  I don’t do drugs, and I’m not about live in a crack house.”

“Right to the point.”  Mosey wrapped her fingers around her tight hips.  She tapped the toe of her knee length boot on the step.  “The house is a family property.  We just live here.  No drugs.  No whores.  No crack.”

“You guys brother and sister?”  Emile raised his brows, waiting.

Mosey snorted.  “No.  And excuse me if we don’t answer any more of your questions.  Our resume doesn’t concern you, yours concerns us.  Or am I wrong in thinking we’re the employers here?”

“I didn’t agree to anything yet.”  Emile narrowed his eyes.  “What’s the offer? And I’ll warn you, a house this big, and the work that comes with it isn’t cheap.  I’m pretty sure I’ll have to put up with some serious crap too, if I’ve got the gist of things.”  He eyed them both from head to toe.  Oh yeah, they were that type.  Rich, snotty, do as they damn well pleased.

“Mouthy little one, aren’t you?”  Botis met Mosey’s eyes as he descended the stairs.  “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Emile.”

“And how do you know my name?”

“Because you sent it to us?”  Mosey chuckled.  “He’s ridiculous, Bo, a true comedian.”

“And couldn’t we all use a few laughs around here?”  Botis jingled as he walked.  Chains wrapped around his boots.  Spikes jutted from the toe, and his leather trench flickered with metal off the porch light.  “You would work exclusively for Raven House.  Cook, clean, and tend to our needs, and in return, we offer you a full ride to school, the use of a car, and some money in your pocket at the end of the day.  How’s that sound, corpse caller?”

“Corpse… what!”  Emile growled.  “I’m not stupid.  No one offers a free ride for playing house.  What do you really want?  Let me guess, this is all some big ass joke on me, right?  That stupid fuck, Bee, did this, didn’t he?   What is up this guy’s ass?  He probably wants to get back at Lim for the other night, and me because I blew smoke up his ass.  Or was it those pricks from the gym?  How did they even orchestrate this?  Ah man, this is so fucked!”

Mosey was now standing next to Botis.  The two of them looked straight out of a magazine.  Glamorous, dark, and sexy, but outside the hypothetical glossy pages, they were freaks.  Botis flicked his cig to the ground.  Mosey toed it out.  Neither of them left Emile’s worried stare.  “What do you know of Bee, Emile?”  Mosey’s eyes did that eat-him-for-supper thing again.  Emile gulped.

“He’s just this prick I ran into last week.  He tried to start some shit with me, but I told him to step off.  Why, do you know him?”

“Step off?  You told Bee to step off?”  Botis grinned.  “Seems you have balls of steel or a missing brain, Emile.  Either will do as long as you can spray a can of Pledge.”

Mosey blindly reached out to take the cig Botis offered.  “And you seem to be acquainted with our dear friend, Lim.  Another bonus point for you, Emile.”  She cocked her head to accept the flame of his lighter.

“This is like the Addams family.”  Emile turned around.  “Look, this sounds too good to be true.  But…”

Botis whipped his hand forward, shutting the top to his flashy Zippo.  “Like I said, we all have a price, Emile.  You need the cash badly.  You need to save money and we offer you a room for free.  You have no transportation.  Your clothing leaves little to be desired.  And we seem to run in the same circles.  Whatever could you have to question?”

“Something tells me you guys are way deeper than I can handle.”  He glanced over his shoulder, startled at how close they were now.

Mosey ran her hand up his shoulder, curling her black nails around it.  “We don’t have to be enemies, Emile.  We can be good friends.”  Her voice was so soft and velvety.  He shut his eyes after the first syllable.

“Yes,” Botis agreed, pressing into his back.  Yes, Emile thought, shivering.  “We can take care of you like you take care of us.  There’s nothing to worry about, Emile.  It’ll be so much fun.  You’ll meet new people.”

“You’ll gain connections,” Mosey added.  The two looked at each other.  She pointed to the cross around Emile’s neck and their hands slid back a few inches.

Botis’s breath was hot on his neck.  “You’ll experience things no one ever gets to see.  Come work for us, Emile.”

“Come inside, Emile.  It’s warm in there, very, very hot.”  He could almost feel the flames of a fire place from the heat of her palm, even over his clothes.  Shit, he felt warm all over.  Tingly too, everything was so tingly.

As much as he wanted to say no, it was too perfect to turn down.  He needed what they offered.  He’d always wanted more friends.  He definitely wanted a car.  How did they know he didn’t have a car?  Oh well, the thought slipped his mind.  He smiled.  “That sounds good,” he murmured.

“Of course it does.”  Mosey pet his shoulder, running her other hand into his hair.  He practically purred as nails gently grazed into his scalp.  “We know exactly what you want,” she whispered.  “Be a good boy and go inside.”

Emile rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had fallen asleep on his own two feet.  He blinked a few times and stepped away.  He faced them.  “Uh, okay, but on a trial basis for now.  I’ll give it a week.”

Botis smiled, and gestured to the house.  “Whatever you like.”

“And what kind of name is Botis?”

“What kind of name is Emile?  You sound like a spray-tanned tour guide.”  Botis lit another cigarette.

Emile smirked.  “Touche, I guess.  And you know smoking is bad for you, right?”

“And I love to do bad things.  Fits me perfectly.”  Botis winked.  “Run along now.  You have lots to do.”

“But I don’t where to put… or where the stuff…”  Emile gathered they wanted a minute by the look he was given.  “Right.  I’ll be inside.”

“Of course you will.”  Mosey smiled all-too-sweetly for him.

This night could not get any weirder.  Saw a creature from the dead lagoon.  Screamed like a girl. Peed his pants.  Met the heads of the Goth society.  Agreed to stay at a haunted house and be their man-bitch.  Now had school paid for… Check, check, and double fucking check. He stopped on the porch, looking at the drive.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” he muttered.  “Where did you come from?”  The porch light bounced off a sleek black sports car with red rims.  Emile’s mouth watered, and if he weren’t half traumatized, his dick would be hard as rock.  Feeling their eyes still on him, he continued on inside to wait for his new employers.  Weird didn’t even cover the last hour of his life.  That car had not been there before.

Botis made sure Emile was inside before setting his eyes on Deumos, aka Mosey.  “Was that walking dead bit necessary?  We could have had him dusting by now and I would have been able to catch the end of Top Model.”

“You’re growing soft, Botis.”  Her eyes caved in, leaving black holes in their place.  Two sleek ivory horns grew out of each temple and a silver crown bled into a solid halo around her head.  Skin like rotted leather peaked out from under her leather jacket.  “You used to be so much fun back in the day.”

“Forgive me, beautiful, if I don’t share your tastes.”  The tongue of a snake slithered out from between his lips, black and wet as it tasted the air.  His red eyes narrowed.  “We will keep this one, Deumos.  Promise you won’t eat him.”

“He’s too big, but he does smell good.”  She took his arm.  Purple and black markings appeared over his hands, an exquisite scale pattern that she knew ran over his entire body in demon form.  “And I prefer—”

“Children.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Yes, I know.  It’s such a waste, though.  The souls go straight up there.  No points for our side and all that.”

“Who the fuck cares about points?  They taste like chocolate truffles and brandy.  And their screams sound like an Italian opera while taking a bubble bath.”  She put her head on his shoulder and a piece of flesh flaked away from her face.  “Yummy.”

“You’re absolutely wicked.”  He lifted her hand and kissed it.  “But let’s try to be nice to our new friend.  Who knows, he might just be the ticket for Xavier’s terrible mood.   Emile is the pretty and doesn’t know it type.  Xavier loves pretty coupled with low self-esteem.”

“It’ll take more than one back-talking human with a tender ass to set Xavier right, but I’ll try.  Pity though, you and I both know the boy is part of Bee’s little game.  They always are.”  They stayed just out of the light.  “And when the news of Xavier’s little mishap trickles down the well, I’m sure things will get… mm, ugly?”

“No doubt the game has begun if Erelim’s made himself known to Emile.  Such a risky move, if I do say so myself.  I have to wonder now exactly how much our new friend knows if Erelim is actually involved.  It’s against the rules to interfere with the game personally, but I guess he could have just been persuading.  Funny that Lim has started to use our tricks.  That’ll surely piss Bee right off.”  Botis’s scales faded as the light hit him.  His eyes bled back to a dark chocolate.  When he turned to Mosey, a pretty human face looked back at him.

“And what of Xavier, now that he’s out of commission?”  She looked around, scanning the premises.  Finding nothing out of the norm, she sighed.  “Do you think Lucifer will put him down?”

Botis’s straightened up.  “Whatever happens, Deumos,” he uttered quietly.  “Xavier is ours to protect.”

“You would put yourself between him and…”  She swallowed.  He didn’t move a muscle, even as her phone vibrated in her pocket.  “Understood.”

“Do you, Deumos?”  He leaned in, eyes flashing red.  “They may play their game, but when it comes to Xavier, he is not to be touched.  It is not his fault how he was born.”

“I understand,” she squeaked.

“Good.”  He turned.  “Now that we have that cleared up, I think we have things to do.”

She slumped and walked past him inside.  “You’re no fun, Bo.”

“Oh, darling, but I am.”  He closed the door with a fanged grin on his face.


Xavier gripped the bathroom counter, looking at his reflection with a scowl.  He glanced over at the waste basket, cursing the box of black hair color silently.  Another failed attempt at covering his Cruella-do was setting him up for disaster.  The mismatched eyes were one thing, an easily explainable birth defect to the human who didn’t know shit about him.  But the unnatural split in his hair color, the shit that grew right out of the root, a shocking white on one side, was not so easy to explain away.  One side black and the other side white, he looked exactly what he was.  One eye the lightest grey and the other dark as night, he was now an official freak.

Being part demon had always lent him a certain higher quality of allure, but this was too much.  This wasn’t allure.  This was gawks and stares on the street, and drawing attention when he already felt like he would explode with anger.  He wasn’t ever leaving this house again.  Fuck the world.  He couldn’t go out like this.  He couldn’t let the human see him.  Running his demon hand over his hair, the water steamed from his locks, leaving him with a perfect mop of disheveled sexiness.  Oh, except for the fucking skunk hair, he thought, throwing the towel across the room.  It landed in tub, slinking into the puddle of water lingering at the bottom.

“Fuck my life,” he hissed to his reflection.  “I’m ruined.”

His fingers drifted to the small of his back, rubbing over the jagged scar that stopped just shy of the back of his neck, where his mother’s present had erupted from skin just days before.  Footsteps in the hall outside made him queasy.  He had to face the music.  He had to bite his tongue and stay in line.  He may be part demon, but the pain was too much to face again.  He couldn’t go through it.  He had to be good.  A half-demon who had to be good, he thought, pulling on his tank top.  What a joke.

Uneasy, and still pissed off at the universe, Xavier flicked off the light and cracked the door.  The sweet smell of human perfumed the hall, masking the dank, old scent of the house.  He growled, irritated that he was hiding from the inevitable.  Slipping into the hallway, the thud of his own boots caused his heart to race.

“And this is the attic stairwell.”  Botis stopped in front of a door, tapping the wood.  “The third floor is all yours.”

“A whole floor?”  A deep voice asked.  Xavier groaned.  Yes, the whole floor, you idiot.  It’s an attic.

“Indeed.  You’ll have to forgive the draft up there.  It’s an old house, and what it lacks in restoration, it makes up for in charm.”  Botis’s eyes slid to Xavier.  His lip curled up.  “Ah, Emile, I’d like you to meet the last resident of our little home.”

Xavier waved his hands, eyes wide with panic.  “No,” he hissed.

A tall, young man with the shoulders of a linebacker walked into the hall from the stairwell.  He turned his light eyes on Xavier and dropped his beat-up bag slowly.  A nervous hand combed through his coppery hair.  “Hi.  I’m Emile, the new housekeeper.”

Xavier scanned the human up and down.  His breathing came louder.  His hands began to sweat.  He had so many things he wanted to say in that moment, but whether he was fearful of the consequences or whether he was actually speechless, he didn’t know.   The taste of his own lust coated his tongue.  His lids became hooded.

“Do come say hello, Xavier.  It’s rude to just stand there.  Don’t you agree?”  Botis’s twisted smile was etched deep into his face.  His eyes flared red behind the human.

“I, uh… cool hair.”  Emile swallowed, obviously unsure if the compliment would be well received.  The guy just stood there, looking crazy and… okay, slightly sexy.

“Thank you,” Xavier grit.  He could feel the mad contortion on his face, still human-like, but rightly pissed off.  “I like your…”  Stain?  Xavier eyed the man’s groin, “sweatshirt.”

Emile looked down at his well-worn college hoodie and averted his eyes.  “Hand-me-down from an old roommate.  No big deal.”

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”  Xavier vibrated with the need to coax the man into his bedroom or slap him shitless for being the catalyst to his oncoming breakdown.  A bolt of pain zipped up his spine.

“I’m sorry, thanks.  Um, are you all right?  You don’t look all right.”  Emile leaned to the left a bit, watching Xavier bend over.

“No shit!”  Xavier fell to his knees.  His knees buckled under the excruciating pain.

“Bad Indian food, I’m afraid.”  Botis turned Emile away from Xavier.  “He’ll be fine.  You have plenty to do and not a lot of time to do it.”  He pulled a roll from his trench coat, letting it unravel to the floor.  But Emile didn’t even look. His eyes were glued to Xavier over his shoulder.  Xavier palmed his way up the wall until he was on his feet again.  The pain was now a dull throb once he’d gone through his list of happy things; puppies, kitties, cupcakes, roses, and… sweet, young human cock.  Their eyes locked.  A strange heat radiated between them.

“Uh, Botis, he looks pretty bad.  I know how to…”

“No, you don’t.”  Botis snapped his fingers, disengaging the mistake before it happened.  “Earth to Emile.   I was informing you of your duties?”

Emile whirled around, regaining his senses.  A twinge of pink flushed his cheeks as he eyed Botis.  “Sorry.  I’m listening.”

Botis opened the attic door and flicked on a light.  “Listening will get you everywhere, Emile.  You’d do well to remember that.”

“Right.”  He eyed Xavier one more time before he slipped past the door and up the stairs behind Botis.

Xavier breathed through the fading moment of sexual tension.  No, that wasn’t lust, that was a ‘wanna tap that until you scream my future children’s name’ kind of moment.  Up until this point, he’d never had a moment like that, but now that he did, that’s what he was going to call it.  “What the fuck was that?”


Mosey slipped out the back door, closing it behind her.  Walking away from the house, she kept going until the back hedges shadowed her in darkness.  From between the shed, and the fence of greenery, appeared Bee.  Smoke curled from the end of his cigarette, lighting the tip a fiery red.

“Spill it, Deumos.”  His yellow eyes glowed.  “Well, I’m waiting.  I know Botis is holding out on me.”

Deumos bit her lip.  Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t be afraid of another demon, but this was Beelzebub, the fucking Prince of Demons, son to Lucifer.  “I, well…”

“You, well, uh…” Bee spat, lolling his tongue out his mouth, mocking her.  “Spit it out, you fool.”

“Erelim is involved now.”  She held her hands behind her back.

“Oh, what the?  Come on, Deumos.  It wouldn’t take a mere flea an ounce of brain to figure that out!”  He flicked his eyes to the house.  “Don’t make me throttle it out of you,” he growled.  “Why is the boy special to Erelim?  And what the hell is going on with Xavier?  Healing?  That’s a crock of shit, spoon fed to me straight from Botis and we both know it.”

“The boy made it sound as if Erelim had warned him about us.  He wears a cross, Bee.  Not just any cross, a cross.”  Deumos squeaked, shoved up against the shed.  Bee’s eyes burned bright.  His stubby horns bubbled to each side of forehead before sharp points of gleaming silver pierced through his skull.  Razor sharp teeth in the same silver snapped open.

“Tell me of Xavier.”  He dragged his claws down the rotting wood.  Her eyes shifted back and forth.

“He’s been punished by the Archangels, forced to bear pain if he mistreats a human. He can’t… he is unable to… he has to be good!”  She slapped her hands to her face.

Sharp claws delicately plucked her fingers from her eyes.  Yellow orbs of anger were mere inches away.  “He what?”  Bee’s voice came like the wind which made hair everywhere stand on end, a ghostly chill that only the Prince of Demons was capable of.

Mosey’s eyes bled black, hollowing into empty sockets.  “He’s… they broke him.”

“Botis said she’d punished him,” Bee spat.  “But this is worthy of revenge.  She oversteps her boundaries!”  His silver teeth chattered together in rage.

“It isn’t his fault,” Mosey argued.

Beelzebub pushed off the shed and paced, casting his yellow eyes to her every few seconds.  “No.  It isn’t.  But…”

“You won’t kill him then?  You will protect him from them?”  Her lips twitched with the need to be free of her human form.

“You will inform me of everything that happens from now on.  I want hour to hour details about that human, of everything he does, and of Xavier.  I need to pay a visit to my father.”

“But you’re won’t kill Xavier?”

He licked his lips.  “If he is truly one of us, he’ll show it.  Or else… he sides with them.”

“But he’s half and half!”  A hand locked around her throat, pushing her up the side of the shed.

“I will decide which half he is loyal to.  No demon of mine walks around being… good.”  He threatened her, opening his jaws to reveal the hell within his mouth.  The screams of hundreds of thousands of souls echoed from his throat.  “You will find out what I need to know, and we’ll see if Xavier is worthy of keeping his place among us. Until then, you get to know the human.  Something stinks here.  This is no longer a game.  This is a war.”

He let her go.  Her backside thudded to the ground.  Mosey scrambled to standing, rubbing her neck of ashes left behind from his palm.  “My prince?”

“What now?”  He whirled around.

“Can I have him when you’re done?”

“Who?”  He cocked his head.

A slimy black tongue licked her lips.  Erelim.”

He smiled, a laugh bubbling behind his lips.  “When he falls, you may have my leftovers and then some.”

Staring at her prince, Mosey watched the flames engulf him.  He vanished into thin air, leaving only a wisp of ash on the night wind.  She looked up to the attic where a light flicked on.

“Oh, Emile, you have no idea what lurks in the dark.”  She grinned and went into the house.



  1. There were so many points in this where I cracked up that I lost count. Great chapter.

  2. I'm loving this! Wish you the best with finishing Cade. :)

  3. My my my look at the things that go bump in the dark. Hehe such a good chapter

  4. Sweetheart, why do you insist on calling your die hard fans whiners all the time? It's a little bizarre to tell you the truth. After all, why do you write these stories? Just for yourself or because you have loyal followers who love your work.

    I have yet to see anyone demand anything from you, just people expressing their love for your stories and their eagerness to read more asap. It's human nature to want more of something you like.

    Anyway, I was just extremely bothered by your intro message. If you dont want people expressing their love for your work and their sometimes fanatical hope for more... why have a blog? Geez, just stop complaining and soak up the complements. If you keep bitching about your fans, you might lose some. Sorry, just calling it like I see it.

    1. Well, unfortunately you saw it wrong. That was sarcasm. A little ha ha. 90 percent of my intros are supposed to be funny or snarky, but if you were offended I'm sorry. This comment upset me quite a bit. And from now in, this will be my last comment. In the comments sections or in the intro. Sorry.

    2. I am sorry my comment upset you. Please don't let what I said change your blog. Now that I know you were just being sarcastic, I feel bad about what I said.

    3. Night, please remember that some of us LOVE your snark and sarcasm, and we take it for what it is...friendly banter.
      I started reading your work on Lit, not knowing you from any other author. I followed to your blog because I enjoyed your work. I continue to follow because I like the author as a person, not just the stories. So if some people make it so you don't share your friendship as well as your stories, then I think people will miss out on a great deal of happiness, and i think you may miss out on making a few friends as well. I really enjoy getting to know you a little (just like your post of the homophobe in the coffee shop, and your response). I would miss you if you stop putting a bit of yourself out there for us.
      Love ya Night!

  5. Ahh Night, don't let some silly dude/dudette who's got a bee in their bonnet get you down! It's your blog, you can write whatever you want! I for one love the anticipation of a new post, the little thrill I get when I see something new is up is something I always look forward to. Delayed gratification is always more enjoyable, than if the whole story was complete in one go... Please don't let some eejit comment stifle your creativity or change how you like to do things, it would be a great loss to us if we couldn't escape to your incredible worlds anymore, or hear from you personally in intros... xxx

    1. I totally agree with anonymous!! I love your intros and totally get your humour. I myself am a very sarcastic person and so I don't take anything anyone says seriously unless it's a serious situation. I enjoy hearing about your life and experiences. Don't deprive your loyal fans by someone who is a little too sensitive! Keep up the great work and wish you the best with finishing up with Cade!

  6. I hope you reconsider, Night. Everyone knows your intros are meant to be funny and sarcastic and they make the whole experience better. It won't be same without your snark. It's not easy to take when someone writes a nasty comment (even though they clearly have no idea what they're talking about), but that person was not speaking for all of us - or even most of us, I'd guess.

  7. Hey Night,
    Great chapter. I am seriously loving this story. It is so unique and I love Emile. He is so cute and relateble. I laughed out loud when he saw the "zombie" it was too funny. I can't wait for more.
    Now, I didn't read the intro last night so I have no idea what the fuss is all about. But in my humble opinion you shouldn't try and change yourself for a few cranky people who don't get sarcasm. You are you and we appreciate your sarcasm and your intros. I hate it when a few people ruin the experience for all of us. Please reconsider. And thanks again for all the great stories.

  8. Hmmm..
    Night , as you know, I'm a blond Norwegian, but I'm pretty sure my English is good enough to read the title of the blog. It's yours, right? And I also know how much you have to do each day to keep such short intervals between posts in addition to actually have a life on the side.
    Night. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I would really like those who doesn't get your humour to understand YOU.
    As far as I can understand, Night has a blog that she updates several times a week, more than thousand words each time. To earn money she works as a nail designer. She writes a book (Cade), edits for and answers stupid mails from a certain Norwegian,lives with her boyfriend, has friends and enjoys reading books when she can find the time. All (well most) these things deserves and needs her attention. Maybe you don't share her humour, but please remember that all uf us aren't the same. Maybe she was tired when she wrote it (the woman actually writes all night at times... crazy woman...) and the pun sounded harsher than it was meant? Maybe she's just a naughty bissom with an evil laugh? All I know is that she's been an angel to me when I've been pestering her for tips and answers even though she doesn't know me.
    And for the final I'm gonna let the bitch out. If you don't like it, don't read it.
    Night: don't you DARE stop giving us all those little jibes and comments that makes you YOU. I might be selfish, but one of the things that makes your blog so much better than anyone else's is your introes cuz they tell us about you. I'll even raid H&M (there r two of them in my crappy little town) for you if you continue being this adoring (fag) hag we love!
    Sloppy smooches

    1. I see I made myself unclear at the end (if you don't like it, don't read it). It was meant for readers in general, not Night Tempest. She is of course more than welcome to disregard me, but the little selfish prick on my shoulder, whispering in my ear right now really hopes she only listens to me. I'm the most important thing after all... (grin)

      I have this thing I tell biggots: If you don't like fat/gay/black people etc, the answer is really simple: Avert your eyes. It will make your day so much better. I think it relates to this issue aswell. If you don't like it, find something you do like.


  9. I really like the freshness of this story.
    I missed your original intro, maybe it was truly awful, but I love your brand of bitchiness. It's tough, and honest, and intimate (in that- only my best friend could talk to me like that- way). So maybe someone gets offended and throws a fit and storms off, but if you leave out the real flavor of you then I think you'd get a lot more just quietly drifting off. Stay beautiful night. Thanks! -kat

  10. Ooh this story is getting good. I was soo thrilled to see you posted it a bit early, it was a great way to start the weekend. I thought it was super hot that Emile and Xavier are attracted to each other. Can't wait to see where that goes. But anyway, I loved tge new chapter and am thankful we got to read it early

    Don't let people's comments get you down, or dictate how you like to do things. You are awesome just the way you are, and if you change how you do things on this blog you are letting the whiner win. You can't please everyone, but I would stick to doing things your way and keep doing what makes you happy... haters be damned. Thanks for all that you do.


  11. Girl, you better tell your critics to kick rocks and move the heck on if they just don't get "it". Honestly, this is preparation for you because there will be others on a much larger stage/scale who will want to clip your wings or curb your tongue or harness your spirit. What are you going to do then? Answer...keep moving, living, laughing, and writing your ass off. Your continued success is not solely defined by your fan base but truly by the belief and love you have for yourself and your craft. As your star gets brighter and brighter, you will learn more life lessons and continue to bounce back from each and every one of them. So don't put your true self and personality in "time out" here on your own freaking blog site because of some negative feedback BUTT(spelling stays) if you feel like keeping some of your specialness just for you and those close to you, then I completely understand....muah! Now back to these sexy vamps, faeries, werewolves, country boys(my favorite) and the cornucopia of delicious madness you bring to my world. P.S.-We got you covered so do you at all times!


  12. NOOO please don't stop with your comments or intros! They are a absolute must. I can only speak for myself but I love your sarcasm and special brand of bitchness. Please don't change people read you for what you write n who you are and how you express it please please don't change. Just cause of one comment

  13. I find it funny that we all love your sarcastic witty characters but heaven forbid your own personality parallel those of your characters. Any true night fan would know that you are not necessarily talking about comments put in the comments section, But rather you've mentioned on several occasions receiving nasty emails. Grow the F up people!

    and finally Night...u stories show a world of acceptance and tolerance. I for one don't want to see u loss who u r because of a few self centered individuals who most likely feel entitled and think ur life resolves around them...

    I'm sending u big hugs. Thanks for everything

  14. Hey Night!:) Im sorry you got such an upsetting comment, but really, please don't stop with all your witty and hilarious comments about stories, people and life in general. This is YOUR blog isn't? You deserve to make your own opinions known on YOUR OWN blog.

    I read your blog not just for your stories but for the bits and pieces of yourself that you share with us with every comment, every intro, every single time you write something. It cracks me up all the time and I always get something to look forward to. To cut all things short, I like you, not just for your stories but for who you are as an author and the person. You are what makes the blog interesting.

    So in my opinion, as you are the author and the one doing all the hard work, people who don't like your humour can simply don't read it.

    Please DO reconsider your decision of not posting your personal comments and opinions! Your humour and snark is what draws readers back time and again! We love you! Author, snark, humour and All:)


  15. I agree with the above comment, please reconsider posting your intro to your stories. I followed you on lit and I was so excited when I found your blog, not just because you're an amazingly talented writer, but because I love the extra bits. You make me laugh, and when i'm having a SHIT day that means alot. I think it helps your readers feel more connected to you. You're down to earth, funny, and I love the snarky sarcasm! It's your blog, if everyone else can post their comments and opinions, why should'nt you? You're not going to make everyone happy all of the time, if they don't like, fuck em (not literally) Love your style, please reconsider.

  16. First off this story is sucking me right in. Not sure how you do it but boy do you do it! Deliciousness :)

    Second I came to reread my lovely bedtime story and I'm like whoa these words look different from last night. Then I had a duh moment and realized you rewrote your intro. I always take your comments as snarky little Nightisms. That's you I get it and love it. I think the problem for some is text can leave a lot to be desired. You can't see expressions or hear tone or inflection. If you are feeling particularly sensitive at that moment you might interpret it the opposite of how it was intend. I must agree with other posters. There's a personal element that draws us in as well. If you take that out, yes your stories will still be amazing but it will definitely diminish part of what makes your blog great. It's not just the stories that keep us coming. We genuinely like the writer too. Take the feedback in but don't take it to heart. Most of us get it. DON'T LEAVE US NIGHT!!!

  17. P.S. Did I mention that I will be seriously bummed out of you stop the intros? SERIOUSLY BUMMED OUT!! Some of us are whiners (like me right now) because I don't want you to change a thing. You're original and great just the way you are, suddenly that song come to mind ( cause your amazing, just the way you are)

  18. Ah, Night... as a long time lurker and only posting once in a blue moon, I must speak up now. I did not get here soon enough to see you original intro, but am apalled at the comment produced from it. I am a silent whiner and proud of it. I have always taken your intros as those of a snarky, confident, assertive and downright entertaining young woman. Your stories are what drew me to your blog, but it's your personality that keeps me here waiting (sometimes impatiently) for your next great work of art. Your passion and creativity are something to be admired, and there will, unfortunately, always be somebody out there that is less than understanding of you and what you give to the world.

    Everybody who has posted here has made so many wonderful comments about how amazing you are and each has told you that they want you to keep up the intros. I'm not going to tell you what to do, just that you shouldn't stop being who you are because somebody doesn't get it. Yes, I most definitely would miss your intros as they make me smile. But, most importanty, they need to make you smile, too. I can picture you laughing in your writing, and losing that would be a shame. Do what makes you happy.

    And, finally, I am so loving this story. Also, since I am posting and not lurking today, the token whine mooooooooooooooooooooore. I now return to my regularly scheduled lurking.


  19. But I love your witty, sarcastic intros. Please continue with them. From what I read, most of your readers love them and would miss them so please don't stop. Besides that, I love this and I really really can't wait for of Taming Fire.

  20. I know that I have never posted a comment before, but I wanted to let you know that I truly enjoy reading your stories. I find your intros very entertaining even when I don't agree with your opinion, I enjoy reading what you have to say. As for the whiners comment, if someone took that too seriously they need to get a backbone. This is your blog and you have the right to write whatever the held you want.

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  23. I loved the mix of humor and darkness. Can't wait to get deeper into this story.