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.

Night

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

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

and
(Caution:  Turn down your speakers a bit)

Male Model: Marcel Castenmiller as Botis

(Marcell Castenmiller for Calvin Klein)

TAMING FIRE: WEEK 3

“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.

TO BE CONTINUED…