A Heaven and Hell Story
Rebecca’s Tale
By E. E. Nalley
I watched the man in the immaculate
Armani suit wait until I had my skirt settled before he returned to his own
chair behind the cherry wood desk to sit down. A part of me I still shudder
away from was thrilled he was so interested in how the skirt settled over my
knee. There was a feeling I can’t imagine I’ll get used to, even with the
canyon of eternity spreading out before me.
It didn’t help that the Angel was
so good looking.
He wore the form of young and up coming
executive like the deep navy Armani suit that hung, rack like on his trim,
boyish frame. A square jawed, honest face was highlighted by caring, deep blue
eyes under a shaggy, but immaculate mop of yellow blond hair. The office was just
another part of the canvas of this perfect image he affected. The deep cherry
wood, the leather appointments, the computer and the laptop, were just
props to him and there were parts of me that hated him for it.
Indeed, hated everything he stood
for.
I couldn’t help it; I was a
Demoness after all.
My eyes fell on a Dutch Master’s
take of Jesus whipping the money changers from the Temple that held a prominent
place on one wall. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, even his voice was
likeable, soft, rounded and caressing of my ears, but there was a steel under
it. It was a voice of command.
“Interesting choice of eye candy,”
I purred, before a ragged sigh escaped my perfectly formed lips. As a
succubus, my voice always held a provocative tone to it. It was maddening.
He spread his hands in a gesture of
supplication. “The Boss doesn’t take kindly to unscrupulous business
practices. I hung it there to remind me. I am the Arch Angel of
Commerce.”
“Marc, let’s not beat about the
bush,” I told him. “What do you want with me?”
“Quite a bit, actually,” he
drawled. “First, I’d like your story. The rest, well, we have plenty of
time.”
“My story?” I asked, somewhat
shocked, as I tried, and failed to get the snake-like tail that hung behind me
into something like a comfortable position. Doing so caused me to shift
somewhat, and once more I felt his eyes on me. I’d probably given him quite a
show. I re-crossed my long, shapely legs to punish him a bit for looking.
“What does the Arch Angel Marc, Custodian of Fair Commerce know or care of
Rebecca, Daughter of Lilith, Succubus?”
“It isn’t often we get into a
pitched battle saving a Succubus from her own mother, Rebecca. Tom tells me
you handled yourself in a practically righteous manner.”
My stomach rolled in protest at
being called righteous, but the tiny part of me that might still be
human felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe things would go a bit differently
from the last time I’d been in Heaven. “There’s nothing righteous about me,” I
admitted softly. “But just because I’m damned, doesn’t mean I have to help
them damn others.”
Marc chuckled softly. “Now,
there’s a tale worth hearing. If you would be so kind?”
I sighed. This was going to take
some time.
* * *
For the short span of years I
walked Planet Earth, I had been born Ricardo Estabon. My parents were well to
do 1st Generation Castilian Spanish emigrants to the United States.
Papa was a banker and did very well for us. Mama was something of an erudite
modern housewife. She wrote articles for a host of Women’s and Home Magazines
and me, well, I was just spoiled rotten.
I wanted for nothing, I had every
opportunity and maybe that was my problem. To me, suffering was having to give
up something for Lent. I probably don’t have to say this, but both my parents
were rather devote Catholics; they dutifully prayed for the Pope, the President
and the family every night, pretty much in that order.
I went to Mass every Sunday, but I
don’t think I really got what was being offered. Twenty something, dangerously
handsome, well off Spanish men don’t really stop to consider something as big
as Eternity. I certainly didn’t.
There is something about Miami that
enforces that invincible feeling. People talk about the vibrancy of New York
or Los Angeles, but no. Miami is the pulse of America, my friend. If
you want to feel alive, you go there. Success and luck are people you can meet
there. There are no problems, only solutions.
My solution? Well, my solution was
I was popular and I was good in bed. That’s not egocentric, Jefe, it’s
the truth. Having sex was just about the only thing I did in my life once I
discovered it.
I didn’t want for partners,
either.
In a way, maybe, there is a suicidal
nature to Spanish Men. Machismo boils within us to prove just how masculine we
are. We take risks we shouldn’t, we don’t think of the consequences of what we
do.
I didn’t have to have sex with the Mafioso’s
daughter. Part of me knew she was far more dangerous than I. Indeed, when
push came to shove, my mouth fought a better battle than my fists. I could
insult you in three languages using words most people wouldn’t know were in the
dictionary. But there was something about her, something I couldn’t resist.
She was the flame and I her moth.
I didn’t hear her father come in on
us. Not that he said anything. I was snatched off, beaten and taken away.
The last words I heard were him telling her she was grounded for a month.
Grounded.
I was taken out to the swamp and killed.
I found myself in the heaven Father
Cordova kept talking about and I was afraid, Lord, I was so afraid.
My death wasn’t given last rites.
My last real confession was months ago. And my worst fears came true.
That wonderful, terrible voice didn’t know me. There was no reason He should
have. I hadn’t wanted to know Him. He was an obstacle to my Sunday morning.
I don’t know how long I was in
Heaven, but it wasn’t very long. The floor didn’t want to hold me any more.
The weight of how wrong and wasted my life had been pulled me down, through it;
down to that awful place.
“Estabon?” growled the voice. I
looked up from my own misery, a misery that went well beyond not having steak
for 40 days. The voice matched its owner well. It was a nightmare given form
and flesh. It stood with a woman whose cold, cruel beauty in a way made her
more horrific than the thing beside her.
It snatched me up from the crowd of
other new arrivals that scattered from it in terror. “Yes, you, Jefe,”
it laughed in its terrible voice. “Hable Inglés?” It shoved me before
the woman and she smiled, smiled in that place and that made it worse.
“He’ll do,” she purred. “Hello,
Ricardo. How was Maria?”
“Wha..what?” I asked, more than a
little amazed at this particular turn of events.
“How was Maria? Maria Valentina
Celeste Corduca, the woman you were murdered for having sex with. How was
she? Worth it?”
“No!” I exclaimed, ashamed and
terrified.
“Oh,” she sighed, pursing her
lips. “That’s too bad. You went to Hell over her. Well, her and Jennifer,
and Susan and Virginia, and I can go on and on, Ricardo. You just couldn’t
seem to keep your zipper closed, could you?”
“I didn’t understand…!” I started,
but I didn’t get very far. She slapped me sharply across the face with a strength
I wouldn’t have given her credit for. I staggered right and fell to one knee.
The thing behind me thought it the funniest thing it had ever seen.
“That is lesson one, dear,” she
said calmly. “Never, ever lie to me. You understood full well you
weren’t making the old man upstairs happy. You understood full well what would
happen to you and you didn’t care. I own you, Ricardo. Understand that
just as fully as you understand the rest. I can see the very bottom of your
soul. You can’t lie to me, so don’t try.”
My face stung from her strike, but
the tears wouldn’t come. This perhaps was the worst of it. If I could cry, I
would feel better after. Yes, even machismo personified Ricardo can admit he
feels better after crying. But I couldn’t cry. Not there. Doubtless because
I would feel better after.
“Now then, since I own you,” she
continued. “Let’s have a bit of introduction. I already know you’re Ricardo
Estabon. I am Lilith, your new mother. You’re going to work for me, down
here. So get used to that as well. But, not like you are now. And that name
won’t work either. We’ll think of something. Come with me.” The last was a
command I was powerless to disobey.
She led me through the bowels of a
nightmare to what felt like a deep, beating heart. As soon as we had arrived,
I began to feel weak. Sick really, and the vision of the heart full of
beautiful, but like Lilith, cold women did little to alleviate the feeling.
“Another man?” one of them pouted. “Don’t you like us anymore, Mother?”
“This is my family, dear,” Lilith
told her in her cold voice. “It’s run my way. But since you don’t seem
to approve, you can have the honors. I want him drained and brought in to the
Clan.”
The girl brushed back her thick,
black hair and smiled a smile that made me recoil in horror. Her teeth were a
collection of fangs and the fear that flooded my system let me realize they
were all that way. Beautiful, oh yes, nothing below a ten in the room. But
terrible in a way. Leathery, bat like wings, tails and cloven hooves. “Yes,
Mother. One new sister, coming up.”
She approached me and I turned to
run. Where, I wasn’t sure, but away from this nightmare made real. “Oh, no,”
she purred, and I couldn’t move. “You might belong to Mother Lilith, but for
now, you’re mine.”
She wrapped herself around me and,
I couldn’t help it. One brain stopped thinking, and the other could only think
about what got me here. We coupled and coupled even as they crowded around to
watch.
I shouldn’t have been able to
perform. I should have been embarrassed about having sex like this in front of
them. But I could only rut like an animal and when it was done there was a
feeling that something important to me was gone. I rolled off her and realized
I was no longer a man in any sense of the word.
“My God!” I gasped as awareness
left me, my voice now high and soft and feral. A woman’s voice.
* * *
“Mother, I think you’ve made a
mistake with this one,” said a voice as I slowly clawed my way back to
consciousness. Clawed was right, my oh so delicate hands ended in hard, lethal
nails. If you didn’t look hard, they looked like just well manicured, feminine
nails that were polished a blood red. But wearing them, I knew better.
“Did I ask for your opinion, Delilah?”
purred the Bitch’s voice. I’m not sure when I had started thinking of her that
way, but it seemed appropriate. “Rebecca, darling, get up and let’s have a
look at you.”
It had been my intention to feign
sleep for a bit, hopefully to eavesdrop on their argument, but at her command,
I dutifully stood before her.
The shifting of breasts I
heretofore had not had brought my attention to my body at once. Only it wasn’t
my body anymore. From this side, these new breasts seemed huge, high, proud
and firm. Her laugh brought my attention back to her. “Oh, would we like a
mirror?” she cooed. “That’s usually first.” Suddenly, the bordello I had
awoken in had a full length mirror. I saw another of those demon women staring
at me, thick, dark hair framing a child like face with bottomless dark eyes
over full bee stung lips that arched and curved perfectly. She was rather well
endowed in the chest department, but they weren’t as large as they felt,
and were in good proportion to the rest of her. Her torso slimed to a waist a
wasp would be envious of to flare back out to generous, toned hips that cried
out to give birth.
Her legs would have been more
perfect if they hadn’t had an extra curve in them and the cloven hooves with
the stiletto-like spur of bone didn’t help either. The barbed tail that
danced from behind her heart shaped rear and the bat’s wings that flexed
spastically behind her repelled as surely as those killer curves attracted.
“There, that’s no so bad, is it?”
Lilith purred, draping her arms around my shoulders. “My little Rebecca turned
out quite well.”
“What have you done to me, puta?”
I shrieked. Her face didn’t change expressions as she collected a handful of
my now much longer hair and jerked my face into hers.
“Rebecca, I’m inclined to be a tad
lenient with new arrivals. But don’t mistake my patience for mercy. Push me
again, my little slut, and I can find far worse torments for your time
here. Entienda?” My body reacted strangely. The portions I began to
mentally label as human were terrified by what she could come up with. I was
in Hell after all. Nothing was sacrosanct here. But, a new, nearly as
frightening portion of me I had no name for was filled with rage. Rage at her
power over me, rage at my subservience of her and rage that lacked focus but
seemed to encompass all creation. I nodded, painfully as her grip on my hair
was quite strong.
Lilith was all cruel smiles again.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” She released me to the less than subtle
snickers of Delilah. “You have a choice to make, Rebecca,” she went on as if
we had not nearly come to blows. “You can choose to make things easy on
yourself, as you always have done. Or you can choose to defy me and the
endless suffering that will entail. Which is it?”
“What do you want me to do?” I
asked, more than a bit sullenly. She glared at me until I added, “Mother?”
She tisked between her perfect teeth.
“Perhaps, we need a little taste of
what defiance has in store?” I blinked and we were in a different place. This
one was filled with bulging, super masculine man things. Even their muscles
had muscles and each was adorned in some kind of soldier’s uniform, in an odd
mish mash of types and countries. The Nazis were easy to pick out, but most I
didn’t recognize. In the center, looking up from a map of the world laid out
on a table was the biggest, most hideous of the man things I’d seen.
He stood somewhere between seven
and eight feet tall, ruddy skin showing through the bazaar uniform he wore,
bedecked with braid and awards. The beret he wore was canted to one side to
allow for the massive pair of horns that jutted from his fore head. He didn’t
need to stoop, the room had no roof, indeed, and the entire area seemed to be a
ruinous castle of some sort. “What’s this, Lilith?” he rumbled in a voice that
threatened to destroy more of the castle.
She glared at him for a moment
before he bowed stiffly. “I beg your pardon, Princess Lilith.”
“I have a gift for you, Lord Baal,”
she told the creature. The other demons had left their work and were all
staring at my nude form and I suddenly felt very afraid. Even the rage filled
portion of me that was like them was afraid. “I wonder if you might teach my
new one a lesson in obedience? Say, a week’s worth?”
The grin he wore would have given a
mass murderer pause. “With pleasure, My Lady.” His massive hands began to
unfasten his belt.
“Mother, no! I’m sorry, I’ll obey
you, I swear!” I cried out, terrified at this new horror to be inflicted on
me. Her smile was as empty and cruel as always.
“Yes, Rebecca, you will. And after
a week here, I think your attitude will improve greatly.” She looked back at
the now naked Baal, who was advancing on me, a cock as obscenely large as the
rest of him leading the way. “Enjoy, Baal. I’ll be back in a week to collect
her. Nothing permanent, mind you.” He nodded as his massive hand closed over
my wrist.
* * *
Humiliation, as a word, falls fall
short of its task. I’m ashamed to admit I laughed at the old joke about the
rape victim just lying back and enjoying it.
I’m sorry.
* * *
I won’t talk about that terrible
week. You can imagine what was done to me. The worst of it was, somehow, I
fed off it. My new body didn’t seem to need food, but the raw, male energy
that they possessed sustained me, even as I was repulsed by how I had to take
it from them.
As I lay in a pile of my own filth
and their remnants, without the strength to moan or seek any kind of solace, I
swore to myself that, some how, in some manner, I would make amends for my
thoughtlessness. I had lost the picture in my mind of cleanliness. I knew the
word, and understood it’s meaning, but I couldn’t imagine myself ever being
that way again.
So I lay there, wondering when the
next time one of them would decide they needed a bit of ‘R&R’ when she
was back, and I could picture cleanliness again. To call Lilith beautiful
doesn’t really do her justice. She was violently female, with her
translucent skin, the size one dresses that molded to her perfect body with an
odd mix of come hither and armor of protection to hold one at arms length.
I envied her the beauty she held,
velvet over steel and, that small and growing smaller human part of me pitied
her. And that shocked me out of the stupor that had clouded my mind for the
last several days.
But I did. I pitied her.
She smiled at me as I lay there,
staring in wonder of my new found emotion towards her. “Well, it looks like
someone had a good time. But, that’s all over now, my sweet. Baal, I’ve come
for my daughter.”
“What do you want for her?” he
rumbled. “I can offer a legion of my finest warriors to your beck and call.”
Lilith rolled her eyes. “What use
have I of your so-called finest warriors, Baal?”
“I’m certain a Princess of your
intelligence can think of something?” he fished. I couldn’t stand, but crawled
beside her determined to do what ever I had to to get out of that place.
“I have too much invested in
Rebecca to sell her, Baal.” She bent and actually helped me to my feet as I
clutched the edge of the table to steady myself. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
“A moment, my lady,” rumbled the
demon. “I have need of one of your girls.”
“I’m not a madam for your
amusement, Baal,” she started before Baal drew himself to his full, rather
impressive height. I couldn’t help but shrink away from him.
“You are a pimp and a whore, and
this project has need of both. Further, you are commanded by The Prince
himself to comply.” He tossed a manila folder on the table next to her. Yes,
Virginia, even Hell uses office supplies. I could see the folder; it had
landed near me as well. It was labeled Merovingian Project. Lilith picked it
up, intrigued sufficiently to let his insult slide.
“How long has this being going on?
Corruption of blood lines is specifically my dominion.”
“And you have the project, now that
it’s reached that phase,” laughed Baal. “Have one of your girls see to this
Edvaard, and be quick about it. He’s supposed to be getting married in three
weeks.”
“I’m not sure I like your tone,
Baal,” she hissed.
“I’m not sure I care, your
highness. Get one of your sluts on the job or you’ll be answering to
Lucifer, not me.” He chuckled as he turned, then paused. “Oh, and thanks for
the little whore. If something comes of it, we’ll take it.”
Lilith spat something in a language
I didn’t speak. Before my tormentor could respond, we were back in the heart
and I collapsed.
* * *
When I came to this time, I was
clean of the remaining filth from my tormentors and actually felt a bit
rested. I had dreamed odd dreams of flight and sex with a succession of
handsome, wholesome men that I was somehow spoiling. As I sat up, I found
myself evidently in Lilith’s office as she was speaking with one of the others
I didn’t recognize. “It’s a simple assignment, Ursula,” she was saying.
“Corrupt him, feed from him, but don’t drain him completely. Once he’s ready,
call me and I’ll finish the corruption. Be sure to wear this guise.”
“Yes mother,” the girl replied.
Lilith noticed me and smiled.
“Ah, and our Rebecca is awake.
Pleasant dreams, my sweet?”
I shuddered as I subconsciously
sought some way to cover myself. “You left me there,” I whispered, more out of
shock than anything else. Had I been thinking, I would never have challenged
her temper once more. But, strangely, her temper didn’t flare, indeed she
seemed puzzled.
“Yes, and I took you away again.
You’re not still upset, are you?”
Finally my brain caught up with my
mouth. “No mother, just trying to wake up.”
Her smile returned. “Of course.
Now, I imagine you’re hungry. Ursula, why don’t you take Rebecca with you?
Let her feed on the way and she can see what’s expected of her.” It seemed
obvious Ursula didn’t think that was a good idea, but she only nodded and
turned to me.
“Well, come on, little sister.”
Lilith nodded at me as I looked at her so I rose and shakily followed Ursula.
Once we were clear of the office, she offered her hand that I weakly took.
“First rule, I’m in charge.” She told me, her eyes narrow. “You do what I
say, when I say. Got it?” I nodded. There was a flash and we where in a back
alley, somewhere. It reeked of urine, vomit and stale beer.
I became aware of wearing clothes
once more. I looked down to find myself wearing a tight, black leather
mini-dress that played well with my olive complexion and dark hair. It showed
an obscene amount of leg and chest, but at least I wasn’t naked anymore. And
my feet were normal!
They were encased in black leather
boots that reached my thighs and heels only a street walker would be seen in,
but they were feet! Not hooves. I looked at her to find her similarly
attired, hers dangerously strappy pumps whose straps came up her claves to just
below her knees. She had evidently conjured up a leather belt to pose as a
skirt and a tee shirt top that wouldn’t have fit a three year old and only just
covered her ample bosom. Her navel was pierced and ringed in a tattoo of
fire.
“Welcome to the joys of teleport,
Rebecca,” she told me with an almost friendly lopsided grin as we carefully
picked our way out of the ally and its trash.
“Couldn’t you have picked a better
place for us to arrive?” I demanded as I followed her, wondering what had
happened to my tail and wings.
“No,” she replied. “That’s part of
the rules. When we return to the world of men, we can not do so anywhere
pleasant.”
“Who made that rule?”
“The old man upstairs. It’s part
of the truce.” She looked back at me to see the question on my face as we
reached the mouth of the alley to resettle ourselves. She sighed in
frustration. “We are at war with them,” she said, pointing up. “You went to
church enough to learn that, didn’t you?” I nodded, flushing a bit under her
sarcasm. “So, now we’re in a truce. We don’t attack them, they don’t attack
us and we’re both trying to get as many of these pathetic mortals to choose a
side, preferably ours,” she said with a wave at the passersby who found their
eyes glued to us as they passed. Ursula turned back to me, a coy smile on her
face. “Who ever gets the most, wins.”
“Wins what?” I demanded. “A chance
to languish in that horrible place? What mad man would pick that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You did,
honey. Or your laziness did, which ever makes you feel better. And that’s our
big asset, they’re lazy and we get a number of them by default. So, I don’t
have all night, I have a Prince to corrupt. Pick one and let’s be about it.”
“I don’t understand…” I started
before she sighed in frustration once more.
“You are a succubus, Rebecca. You
feed on male energy. Pick one that calls out to you and feed. Drain him dry
if you like. That’s always fun. Just be quick about it.”
“You want me to help you damn
them?”
“You prefer the alternative?” she
demanded, a hit of anger in her voice.
“No,” I said meekly.
“Don’t think about it; just open
yourself to finding one calling to you.”
I turned away from both
understanding and not what she had meant. Immediately, I became aware of a
strange scent teasing at my nostrils. Actually, there were two scents. One
was absolutely delicious, like the aroma of Thanksgiving Dinner shortly before
it’s ready to sit down to and enjoy. I followed it up the street to a clean
cut young man who was talking to a pair of hookers who were obviously deeply
amused by whatever he was saying.
He had a bible tucked under one arm
and was trying to get them to take a pamphlet from a stack he had with him. As
I stared, I became aware that his name was George Conner, a third year seminary
student who somehow managed to maintain a 3.8 average at the local Theological University
and ministering to the lost souls on the street at the same time. His purity
sang to that part of me that I was aware was the Demonic Corruption I’d been
infected with.
I wanted him in the worst way.
Closer was another scent, not
nearly so welcome, but also food. It was attached to a large, bruiser of a man
who was the pimp of the two girls George was talking to. And he had had enough
of the street preacher cutting into his profit margin. I suddenly realized
what Ursula expected of me and there was no way I was going to harm George.
I walked from the Demoness with a
purpose, careful to make her think the young student was my target. It also
brought me close to the thug, who I learned somehow was known as Cutter, for
his fondness of knives. He wasn’t as evil as his job might make him out to be,
and he had no real intention beyond putting the fear of God into the preacher,
but he lived off the sin of those women and between the two, he was the better
choice.
I reached Cutter before he reached
George. “Hey there, tough guy,” I purred, somehow aware I was projecting a
part of myself into his subconscious, grabbing him by the primitive brain and
tickling every rutting emotion from lust to love to make myself irresistible to
him. “Care to scratch an itch for a girl?”
I saw his girls and George gaping
in wonder at me as Cutter let his libido do his thinking for him. I caught
their eyes and let them see the real me, in all my horrific glory. George did
me proud. He collected an elbow of each and drug them quickly around the
corner and out of sight. I returned my attention to Cutter, working my mental
claws deeper into him.
I was delirious with hunger and I’d
passed up the banquet for a hog dog and fries. In a handy alley my dress was
over my hips as he took me with a rough, intense urgency. As he took me, I
took him. I fastened my lips to his as my body sang in the joy of the rutting
and sucked the manhood from him.
Ok, it was a really nice hot
dog and fries.
And George would live to preach
another day and that was what was important. I wasn’t sure how long I fed on
Cutter, but finally our coupling was done and small girl with elfin features
was trembling in my arms. “What did you do to me?” she asked, real terror in
her eyes.
To my immense surprise, she wasn’t
a Succubus, but a young woman stepping from girlhood to womanhood. I extended
my wings and held her against me. “What you did to those girls,” I told her as
her eyes became even wider as she saw me. “I’m what’s waiting for you,
Cutter. Think about that in this new life of yours.”
I opened my wings and she fled, her
clothing far too large for her form, but her terror gave her speed. In short
order she was out of sight as well. “What, the heaven, did you do that for?”
demanded a very irate Ursula. “Why didn’t you take the preacher?”
I licked the essence of Cutter from
my lips with my considerably longer tongue. “I was starving, and he was
closer.”
Ursula considered this for a
moment. She hadn’t seen me reveal myself to the others, and, thankfully,
hadn’t heard what I told Cutter. She had no real evidence against me and my
story was just as probable as hers. “Next time, don’t fuck with someone we
already have corrupted.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
I asked languidly. So soon from feeding, my Demoness side was far stronger
than my human. I felt very good.
“He was marked!” Ursula hissed.
“That funky thing on his forehead?
You didn’t tell me what that was for,” I told her. A bit of guilt to spread
would keep the story quiet. Truth be told, I had seen the clan mark of Baal on
Cutter and that made things a bit sweeter. With any luck, I’d saved two birds
with one screw. “I’ll do better next time, Big Sister.” She stared at me and
sighed.
“See that you do. Come on, we need
to get to Scotland.”
* * *
We flew to Scotland, but not how
you’d think. We went British Air. I hadn’t done any great traveling in life,
but I have to admit, first class is nice. On the way, Ursula filled me
on a number of the finer points of my new abilities. It was rather surreal
discussing paranormal abilities of the Damned while sipping Johnny Walker in a
very comfortable leather seat.
The array of powers at my command
was impressive.
I could assume any form, so long as
it was female, usually I would do this subconsciously, making myself more
irresistible to what ever prey I had picked out. But I could control it as
well. Because I was male before I had been made a Succubus, I evidently would
be an accomplished sorceress, or so the theory went. Ursula had always been
female and had no magical power to speak of and so could not instruct me.
It wasn’t necessary for me to feed
to the point of changing the sex of my victim. I could take only small amounts
that would weaken his spirit and make it easier to corrupt him until his
journey down on the elevator of the here after was assured. The rest, she
assured me, I would pick up in time.
She removed a pack of cigarettes,
rather long ones, from her purse and lit one to the glaring eyes of the
Stewardess. “Or,” she continued, “you may be sent out on special assignments
like this one, to corrupt a specific target that meets some goal of the Lower
Downs.”
“Excuse me, Miss,” the Stewardess,
an attractive woman past her prime, interrupted. “This is a non-smoking
flight.”
“Fuck off, bitch,” growled Ursula.
The Stewardess left in a huff forward. “This would be one of the down sides of
our abilities,” Ursula told me. “Unless they’re homosexual, we have no power
over women.”
“So, what are we going to Scotland
for?” I asked cautiously, watching the Stewardess having an angry conversation
with someone on the intercom.
“You should feel privileged,” the
Demoness said. “I’m to corrupt the Male descendant of the Merovingian Line.
And you’ll be there to watch a pro at work.”
“The what?” I asked. “What are you
talking about?”
She didn’t answer as the Stewardess
had returned, this time with the Pilot, a distinguished, if somewhat older
gentleman who looked like he’d stepped off a poster for the Airline. Even
though I was not particularly hungry, his smell, wonderfully innocent and pure
made my stomach roll.
Oh, he wasn’t as pure as George had
been, but he was a real straight arrow, just the same. Jaywalking was probably
the worst thing he’d done in his life. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he greeted, “You’ll
have to put that out. This is a non-smoking flight.”
Ursula pulled up her skirt to
reveal her lack of foundational garments to the horror of the Stewardess and
rubbed herself while blowing a smoke ring at the Pilot. “Cut a girl a break,
Dave,” she purred. “I just need it so bad.”
Dave began to sweat and I could
feel him struggle against her wiles. He was very aware of the wedding ring on
his finger. Before Ursula could get her claws any deeper into him, I carefully
touched her arm. “Ursula, we do need to get ready for this meeting.”
Anger flashed across her face,
before the logic of my argument won out. “Fine,” she spat, rubbing out the
cigarette and pulling her skirt down. “You win, fly boy. Now get lost.” Dave
rubbed his face, as if waking from a bad dream.
“Thank you, Miss. And enjoy your
flight.”
“You’re going to let that little
bitch get away with that?” demanded the Stewardess as the two went forward once
more. I felt Ursula’s eyes on me so I turned back to her, forcing my worry
about the two away.
“Where were we?” she asked with a
bit of an edge to her tone. I cleared my throat cautiously.
“You were going to tell me what
this Merovingian thing was all about.”
“Oh, that,” she said, and I could
feel the annoyance in her tone. “Ever hear of the so-called Devine Right of
Kings?”
“What, that a King was king because
God wanted him to be, so everyone had to respect that?” I asked. I hadn’t
skipped all of school, after all. But Ursula just rolled her eyes.
“Light weight. No, the Devine
Right of Kings works like this. The Christ married the whore Magdalene
and got from her children.” I stared, open mouthed. “Oh yeah, not what that
former Catholic brain of yours was expecting, was it?” There was nothing nice
about her grin. “So, the little Holy terrors run off to what will be France
with Mommy dearest and Uncle James and start interbreeding with the high mucky
mucks there. Bingo! Suddenly the Crowded Heads of Europe can say they have
the Blood of the Savior running through their veins so we all get to bow and
scrape.”
“But, after a lot of work by
our side, we get some of those Crowned Heads separated from their shoulders.
Hitler was such a Lucifer send. Most of them aren’t even in power any more.
But, the problem is a couple have ambitions. This kid Edvaard Plantard
de Saint Clair we’re going to go have fun with? He’s about to get himself
married to some little cunt of the House of Stewart, also one of those
aforementioned Lines, thus giving our darling Edvaard a shot at a newly vacated
Throne of Scotland. IF he does that without some major tinkering with, we’re fucked.”
“What does a king of Scotland have
to do with…?” I started before she cut me off with an angry gesture.
“Shut up and listen. If all this
comes to pass, you have a union that could produce a legitimate heir to the
Throne of David. You remember David, right, daddy to Solomon? That throne,
the physical seat of it, is in Scotland, brought back from the Crusades
and made a part of English/Scott Ceremony. An independent Scotland, with a
King from the Merovingian Line could usher in a new age of nobility that will
set us back centuries. But, if our boy is corrupted….?”
“Then the true royal Blood Line
creates a new Hell on Earth,” I whispered.
“Bingo! Go to the head of the
class, Rebecca.” She looked up and became aware of something. “Let’s go, this
is our stop.”
“But, we’re still in the air…” I
managed before she took hold of my arm and we passed, incorporeally through the
airplane, high over Scotland.
As our wings brought us invisibly
to the ground, my worry went into high gear. What we were about to do would be
a disaster for everyone on Earth. What was promised in this new crop of
royalty, like the true Nobility of young Prince William, would be smeared by
excess and evil of truly epic proportions.
No matter the cost, I had to stop
it.
* * *
It was night in Edinburgh. A night
of grave consequence for far too many I was certain. I knew that if I
interfered with this, the jig, as they say, would be up. My senses took in the
sights and sounds of a country I’d never been in before and, doubtless would be
my last recollections of life on Earth.
At least this time around it would
be for something worth while.
I followed her lead as she strode
through the city, guided by some line of Fate I was unaware of. I was too
young and too Damned to be going through this kind of thing. Up until a few
short weeks ago, my greatest ambition was to get through my freshman year of
College with as much nice female company as I could.
Now I was psyching myself up for
saving the world and well and truly Damning myself.
Ursula led us to an extremely nice
home. Not really an estate, and not really just a house, but somewhere in
between. She walked through the closed gates as if they weren’t there. Or we
weren’t. Still, I hopped over them, to her somewhat annoyed glance.
At the front door, she stopped,
somewhat puzzled. “What?” I asked, getting a vague feeling of not being
welcome.
“The ground is consecrated,” she
growled, becoming visible even as I did. Then she did the least supernatural
thing she could. She rang the bell.
An elderly gentleman’s gentleman
opened the door, his lip curling ever so slightly in distaste at the two
hussies on his Master’s door step. I felt Ursula reach into him, hard,
even as she pulled her top up and bared her breasts to him. “Won’t you invite
us in?” she asked sweetly.
The butler fought a battle within
himself he ultimately lost. “Please come in, Miss. And you as well young
lady,” he said in a sing song voice. The feeling of being unwelcome lifted and
we could step across the threshold. Ursula kissed his cheek.
“Why don’t you go jerk off into the
supper?” she asked with sour sweetness. The butler closed the door and ambled
off. Ursula cracked her knuckles and shimmered, becoming a lovely young woman
with deep blonde hair in a conservative, but well tailored skirt suit and
sufficient jewelry to make a fair-sized down payment on the National Debt. “Don’t
look at me,” she said; her voice melodic and colored by a soft, educated
Scott’s bur. “This is evidently Princess Charming. Let’s go see about getting
Eddie good and Damned.” She wiggled her eyebrows and it was obvious she was
looking forward to what she was contemplating.
“Lorraine,” called a voice from the
top of the lovely, banistered staircase in the back of the entry hall where we
still stood. The voice was attached to a boyishly handsome young man with
somewhat long, chestnut hair framing a kind face. He wore an expensive silk
suit that had a crest of some kind sewn into the pockets. “When did you get
here, my love? And why didn’t Reginald announce you?” He stopped a few feet
away, somewhat confused. “Who is your friend?”
Once more I felt Ursula reach out
with her powers and I knew my moment was at hand. Looking about, I saw a heavy
looking wooden box by the entryway. I picked it up, wondering as I did so why
it burned my fingertips, but I ignored the pain as I struck Ursula as hard as I
could across the back of the head.
She didn’t make a sound, but folded
to the floor, out cold and the box burned me so much I had to drop it. It fell
beside her, opening to spill out a Bible, which explained the pain in my hands
and its instant effectiveness on Ursula. “What will you do, now?” asked a
terrible voice.
He stood beside the young Prince,
who was himself evidently frozen in horror. The Angel was too bright
too look at directly, so I had no clear picture of his face. Only the palpable
aura of power that wrapped around him and the massive, tendril like wings of
light behind him. He wore a judge’s robes and did not appear to be armed, but
I was still sorely afraid. “What?” I whispered hoarsely, backing away from the
creature into the corner of the door and the wall.
“I said, what will you do, now,
Rebecca?” The Angel took a step forward and still Edvaard didn’t move. I
realized then we were frozen, in that long space between one heart beat and the
next.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Arch Angel Uriel, Guardian
of Judgment, Emergency and Change, little Succubus.” I hung my head.
“Are you here to take me back to
Hell?”
It was then he surprised me intensely.
“No.” My head shot up.
“No?”
“No,” he repeated patiently. “This
is a nexus. A turning point between Edvaard’s Destiny and his Dark Fate. I am
forbidden to interfere.”
“His who and what?” The Angel
chuckled.
“All of humanity posses both a
Destiny, the brightest promise of their choices through Free Will and a Dark
Fate, the turning away from that light to the dark, bases of their own nature.
This is Edvaard’s nexus and, oddly enough, yours.”
“But…but…” I stammered. “I’m not
human any more. And I’m already Damned. How can this be my nexus?”
Uriel sighed with a saint’s
patience. “Demoness or no, Rebecca you have Free Will. You have taken a step
in that Nexus. Will you assist your Mistress and corrupt this innocent? Or
will you take a different path?”
“What? What other path?” I
demanded.
“Will you keep Edvaard protected so
that he may fulfill his Destiny?”
“How can I do that?” I pointed at
the unconscious form of Ursula. “Even if I stop her, they’ll send someone
else. Can’t you help me?” The Angel shook his head. “But, they’ll keep
coming so they can corrupt some child he hasn’t even sired yet…” I trailed
off. There was a third alternative here.
If Edvaard couldn’t sire a child,
then he would be useless to Hell, right? So the solution here seemed painfully
obvious. At least it did at the time. I crossed over to him, more than a bit
unsettled about doing this in front of the Arch Angel. But, it was all I could
think of.
Uriel wasn’t exactly forthcoming
with the options.
As I gathered the Prince into my
arms and kissed him I felt him respond to me. My power reached into him and he
responded to me. Suddenly we were one on the floor of the hall, our lips never
separating. He was so sweet and pure.
I fed, even as he filled me but
there was something different about this coupling. There was feeling, as if
some nagging worry was gone and I could actually enjoy this wonderful moment.
Then the last of his masculinity entered me as he shuddered in his orgasm and
began to change. Within moments, the handsome Prince was gone and in his
place, a lovely, aristocratic youth stared into my eyes, fear and terror
dancing in her own as I helped her to her feet.
“You bitch,” hissed Ursula.
My head snapped around to see her, wings spread and her mouth a feral
collection of daggers. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Come find out,” I spat at her, my
head giddy with the rush of feeding and some strange feeling of hope within
me. She made to lunge at me and I lashed out by reflex. The power leapt from
my hand and knocked her back, though the door behind her and out onto the lawn
beyond. Her body lay motionless for a moment, then shimmered and sank into the
Scottish loam.
“It is done,” declared Uriel as he
faded away.
Big help he was.
Fire raked down my side as I
lurched away from it, turning to meet this new threat. Edvaard had taken a
sword from the wall and sliced my leg with it. Smokey blood oozed from the
wound as the human form I wore became too much for me to hold onto and my true
self was revealed.
The young woman Edvaard had become
gasped, taking a half step back, but the point of the sword didn’t waiver. I
could see a crucifix had been etched into the blade, along with other symbols I
didn’t recognize, but glowed softly. “What are you?” she demanded steadily,
mastering herself once more.
“I’m a Succubus, a Demoness of
Hell,” I admitted, gritting my teeth against the pain in my leg. “My name is
Rebecca.”
“Why have you done this?”
“I was sent to watch her corrupt
you, to Damn you and pervert the Merovingian Line.” I watched the anger set on
her face as she advanced a step, the sword casually held before her. I backed
away in fear. “But, I couldn’t let her do that! I couldn’t let anyone else
suffer the fate I have, you must believe me!”
“Must I?” she demanded. I kept
backing up, knowing I should flee, but to where? There was obviously no hope
of help from Heaven, and it wouldn’t be long before Lilith, or someone like her
arrived to undo my stop gap and finish the job. My hand settled on the Bible,
still on the floor and burned with new pain.
“Please! I swear I want to help
you!”
The burning left my hand, even as I
felt bathed in a warm, reassuring light. My vision blurred and I became aware
of a new, hot wetness dripping down my face. The sword point wavered and
finally withdrew. “You’re crying,” she told me softly. “What does that mean?”
I brought my hand up to my face
even as the tears became a torrent. “I…I don’t know,” I admitted. It was a
long time before I could speak again as the torment flowed from me.
* * *
“The tears meant you were on your
way to Redemption,” Marc interrupted me softly, rising from his desk to offer
me his silk handkerchief.
I realized I was crying again. I
took the offered silk and dabbed at my eyes, being careful of my makeup as the
feminine side of me demanded I should. It was hard, but I resisted the
temptation to blow my nose into it.
Marc settled on the side of his
desk to watch me. “Absolutely remarkable,” he commented finally. “I don’t
know whether they’re slipping or this is just a fantastic bit of luck for us.”
“There are other forces at work
here, you are ignorant of, Marc,” said the breathtakingly beautiful woman from
the couch near us. She was remarkably tall for a woman, fair skin framed by
ringlets of jet black hair and a lovely business skirt suit that was
professional, but didn’t fail to display her remarkable charms either.
Marc sighed. “That’s usually how
I’m forced to work here, Dominique. Would you care to fill us in?” The woman
smiled her amusement at what I took to be her subordinate’s frustration.
“I might be persuaded to part with
a secret or two,” she told us with a chuckle. “Just for the sake of completeness.
But, first, I think I could use some coffee. Could you see to that, please,
Marc?”
I watched his desire to remain and
hear what ever this Dominique wanted to say to me out of his hearing war with
the respect of submitting to his betters. Respect won out and he excused
himself before leaving. She turned her full attention to me, polite, but
intimidating, as if she had many more eyes than the two dark, mysterious ones
she wore. “Well, Rebecca, it seems you have rather upset things, here and Below.
I already have a formal compliant from Lilith to take before the Throne,
because of you. What do you say to that?”
I swallowed, still terribly
uncomfortable under her unblinking gaze. “I don’t mean to be rude, Ma’am,” I
told her cautiously, “but, who are you?”
Her laugh seemed even a little
forced to her, as if she hadn’t laughed in quite some time and was only just
getting back into the practice of it. She winced a bit and shook her head
ruefully. “I am Dominique, Member of the High Council of Arch Angels, High
Inquisitor of Heaven and Hand Maid to the Throne. Which is a really overly
complicated way of saying I’m number three honcho around here.”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. My
mind’s picture of Heaven didn’t include humor, which was doubtlessly one of my
problems. “Oh. It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Honchoness,” I told her with
a bit of a snicker.
“Charmed,” she told me with a far
more relaxed smile. But her eyes still didn’t blink and that was quite
unsettling. “Now that that’s out of the way, what do you have to say for
yourself?”
I shrugged as I played with the hem
of my skirt like a little girl answering to a parent that was both loved and
feared over some transgression. “It wasn’t my idea to complicate anyone’s
after life. I just couldn’t let happen what they were going to do. I don’t
know what that makes me. I know I don’t disserve to be here, but that doesn’t
change what I had to do.”
“Interesting,” she said softly as
the door was knocked on softly and then opened. A lovely, rubenesque black
woman wrapped in the most obnoxiously colorful sarong of silk I’d ever seen.
Her head was wrapped in a turban of the same material and she wore far too much
jewelry and make up.
Yes, I liked her pretty much on
sight.
“Hey there!” she greeted with a
smile that was every bit as easy and natural as Dominique’s had been forced.
She held the door open for the returning Marc who was laden with a pewter
coffee service on a matching tray. Once he was inside, she invited herself in
and shut the door. “Dom, how was your vacation?” she asked with a grin.
“Welcome and I’m glad to be back to
work,” Dominique told her with a tolerant smile. The new comer helped herself
to the coffee and plopped on the couch beside her with a great sigh of relief.
“Good news!” she said with a toothy
grin before turning to me. “So, this is the Rebecca. How are you
dear?”
I only just managed to take the
coffee from Marc without spilling it under the spiritual onslaught of this new
woman. “Um, fine, thank you. I don’t know if I qualify as the
anything, but I’m here.”
“Think nothing of it, dearie. Oh,
where are my manners? I’m Raphael, Angel of Mercy and Dom’s main foil on the
Council.” Oh.
“I, guess, I’m honored to meet
you,” I told her softly, not sure what else to say. She just chuckled, which
was cut short by Marc softly clearing his throat.
“I believe you were going to part
with a secret or two when I left, Dominique?” he asked with a boyish smile that
probably let him get away with quite a bit. It did in this instance too.
“Ah, yes, secrets,” replied
Dominique. “Well, about the time you were having your heart to heart with
Edvaard, Rebecca, your friend Ursula arrived back in Home, the Principality of
Hell that Lilith has dominion over. As I understand it, your mother flew into
a spectacular example of one of her rages.”
“Ursula is still alive?” I asked,
somehow worried, relieved and amazed all at once.
“No,” replied Dominique. “She died
several hundred years ago, but she still exists as you did not inflict Final
Death on her. She managed to inform Lilith of what you had done before she
passed out and my informant tells me Lilith’s rage was a terrible thing to
behold.”
“And your informant would be?”
asked Raphael after a sip of the coffee. Dominique gave her a playful glare, and
then smiled.
“This cannot leave this room, of
course, but my informant was a Sister of yours, Rebecca. Her name is
Lorelei.” The others seemed to attach some significance to this, but it was
lost on me.
I had no idea who Dominique was
talking about.
“In any event,” continued
Dominique. “Lorelei rather quickly put together what the great Plan Rebecca
had set on its ear was and what the ramifications of that would be. The heart
of the Truce would be at stake. Realizing she had basically nowhere else to
turn, Lorelei promptly went to see the Prince of Darkness himself. And this is
where things get interesting. Lucifer told her to come to me and tell me
everything.”
I watched Marc’s eyebrows ascend
his face in surprise. “Really?”
Dominique nodded. “Armed with this
information was when we began to rally the forces to find you, Rebecca, but I
think we might be a bit ahead of ourselves. What happened after you convinced
Edvaard of your real intentions?”
* * *
I don’t know how long I sat on
the floor and cried. After a moment, I became aware that Edvaard had put the
sword away and holding my shoulders, offering me what comfort she could. It’s
funny, I set her life on its ear, steal her very manhood, and she’s comforting me.
I wish I had been half the man in
life that Edvaard is.
Finally, I was able to pull myself
together enough to use some that energy I’d stolen from him to heal the gash
down my leg. That done, I manifested my human form once more and was finally
able to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I told him with a mighty sniff. “I did
this to you because it was all I could think of to keep you beyond their
reach. If you weren’t a man, you’d be immune to our power and you’d be safe
from their corruption.”
She actually laughed as I laid out
my logic to her. “It rather doesn’t help me sire a new heir, now does it?” she
asked with a smile. I shook my head.
“We have to go,” I told him as I
got to my feet. “It isn’t safe here. They’ll come for you.”
“Let them,” she said with something
of a hint of steel in her voice. “I am Edvaard Plantard Saint-Clare and I run
from nothing and no one.”
I couldn’t quite keep in a chuckle
at her defiance. “Honey, you were Edvaard Plantard Saint-Clare. Now
you’re a young girl with no papers, no ID and all of Hell is coming for you.”
I paused a bit to let that sink in behind her fearful, but still resolved
eyes. “I’ll do what I can, but if they know where to find us, that makes
things much harder.”
“What did you have in mind?” she
asked me.
“For starters, get that sword, it really
hurt. I hope we won’t have need of it, but, better safe than sorry.”
“Shall I fetch one for you?” I
shrugged my shoulders.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter, that’s
kind of how I ended up here. I don’t know swords from shinola.” She nodded as
she took down the sword once more. “How far away does your girl friend live?”
“About twenty minutes, why?”
“She might be next,” I told her
fearfully.
* * *
About nine minutes later her Austin-Martin
screeched to a stop at another of those more than houses but not quite
mansions. At least my ability to drive like a manic wasn’t gone. The girl
Edvaard had become was too small to reach the pedals properly. If I had to
guess, she looked like she was about 16 or so, and, more to the point, I rather
doubted Edvaard had done much in the way of driving any way.
As I killed the engine, she turned
to me, a bit of worry on her face. “I don’t think she’ll believe me, to be
honest. Can you make yourself look like my old self?” I shook my head.
“Females only, your highness.
That’s the way it works. If you get us inside, then I’m certain my morning
face will convince her.” Edvaard sighed and nodded.
“Alright. Let’s go.” We climbed
out as I tugged the super tight jeans I’d conjured up out of the crack of my
ass. Evidently, any clothing I wore could only be of the hottie on the prowl
variety. The lowest heels I could manage were three inches.
The door was answered by another of
these ubiquitous gentleman’s gentlemen. Geez, did everybody in the UK have a
butler? “May I help you, ladies?” he asked with a curl to the lip that I was
beginning to recognize and get pissed about.
“Yes,” interrupted Edvaard.
“Elisabeth Plantard Saint-Clare to speak with Lorraine Gwendolyn Stewart. It
is a matter of great urgency, if you please, Malcolm.”
The butler started a bit, at the
use of his name. Edvaard, who was now calling herself Elisabeth, had changed
before we’d fled his house, making sure to pin his Crest to the sweater she’d
pulled on. The one pair of jeans he owned now made her look like some hip-hop
wannabe; they were ridiculously baggy. Malcolm considered this for a moment
and stepped to one side. “Won’t you come in?”
Yet again the barrier that kept me
on the mat, as it were, lifted and I could enter the house. What a pain. It
figures with me begrudging every second, not knowing when Baal, or Lilith, or
both might show up, I have to grind my teeth and play Miss Manners.
“I’ll see if Miss Steward is still
receiving visitors, Miss Saint-Claire,” started Malcolm. “It is quite late…”
“We don’t have time for this,” I
growled, fearfully. Turning to Malcolm, I turned on the charm. “Malcolm,
love, go and fetch her highness, see that she’s in