The Demon

Having cleaned up the blood from Shyla's apartment and disposed of the evidence of her subversion, I now only had to manufacture a reason for my presence imprinted upon her living space. I called Leigh.

"Hey baby," I said to her, in that low tone I knew always thrilled her.

"Hey!" she squealed in excitement. "I'm so glad to hear from you, sweetie! I'm stuck at the store and I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor? And what might I get in return for this favor?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sure we could come up with some sort of payment that you might find titillating dear. Shyla was in earlier today and she bought this bottle of body wash. My handwriting was on the label, but I don't remember the bottle at all. I was wondering if it was something that you brought in? Do you remember it?"

"That's a little vague Leigh. Can you describe it a little more?" I asked her, smiling fit for the Chesire cat on the inside while keeping my tone bantering and neutral. This was falling into place just as I had planned.

"Um, it was a clear glass bottle, five inches tall, one and a half inches in diameter at the base and half an inch at the neck, the stopper was a bulb of cloudy glass surrounding cork, and the liquid inside appeared to be shell pink liquid soap, filling the bottle to the brim."

My jaw dropped involuntarily. "That's," I licked my lips, "very specific indeed Leigh."

She giggled. "Don't tell me we've been together all these months and you only just found out I have an eidetic memory?"

"Hm, I might have heard that once, but I must have forgotten," I said, forcing a chuckle. The replacement bottle was not exactly the same as the original. It couldn't be. The original was a one-of-a-kind design, specifically blown to contain the exact demon I had bound and no other. The replacement was close, but I didn't know if it would be close enough to fool an eidetic memory. That wasn't part of the plan.

"Well, do you remember the bottle?"

"It sounds like something I might have brought in with that last box from Africa, the one with all the junk in it that we labeled last week together. There were so many geegaws and trinkets, I'd be surprised if even you remember them all."

"Ha! I remember everything Sarai. Everything important anyway. There were a lot of labels to write though. I guess I'm just worried about Shyla. She disappears for weeks at a time and then buys this bottle, and nothing else. It's not like her. And she just gave me a bad feeling when she left, like she was hiding something. I know her better than she thinks I do."

"Oh, hun, I'm sure Shyla is fine. You just miss her being around more often," I told her, adding just a hint of calculated condescension to my tone. Predictably, she bristled.

"I'm not being childish Sarai, I really felt something wrong when Shyla left."

"Do you want me to go check on her?" I asked, allowing more compassion to enter my tone.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Yes. Please?"

"Of course, I'll stop by on my way home and say hi. For you baby."

"Thanks," she said with genuine gratitude. "I'm sure I'll find some way to express my thanks more eloquently when I see you later," she added in an overly dramatic and suggestive tone. I grinned.

"Later," I replied, and we disconnected. Now to wait. If I had been on my way home from where Leigh thought I was, then it would take me five minutes to reach Shyla's. Then another minute to get upstairs and discover the door was unwarded. Upon entering the unwarded door, I would discover nothing out of place, but evidence of recent occupation by Shyla, and I would call Leigh back.

There was only one way to own the store that Leigh owned, and that was by right of blood. She was born to the bloodline that allowed her to operate it through no virtue of her own. Only she, of all alive today, could control its deepest secrets and access its most dangerous vaults. Someday she would have to bear a child to continue the line, lest the magic buried within the shop be lost for all time. Or worse, lest the protections be shattered, leaving the secrets available for the taking.

I knew I couldn't kill her and expect to gain access. It wasn't that easy. I needed more than simply her death, and I meant to get it. I called her again.

"Leigh, Shyla's door was unwarded. I went inside. She was here, but she's not anymore." I let worry color my voice, with a tinge of strain.

"What? Unwarded? Do you know what has to happen to Shyla for her door to be unwarded Sarai?? This is bad. This is very, very bad. Shit. I need to get over there. I'm closing the shop. Stay there Sarai."

She hung up.

I stared at the disconnected phone in my hand. I hadn't expected such a reaction. Most user's wards fell if they were out of range and sometimes even when they were asleep. Leigh made it sound like Shyla's wards being down portended her death. Odd. I would have to wait again.

Sooner than I expected, Leigh burst into Shyla's apartment. I had been waiting in her living room and saw her enter, but even before she came into sight, I could feel the agitated energy she was radiating.

"Leigh, baby, you've got to calm down. I could feel you from a block away."

She rounded on me, still fairly vibrating with energy. "She was here. I can feel it. She came home, and she was here."

"She's not here now," I replied logically. "And her wards were down or I wouldn't have gotten in."

"That's impossible, Sarai. Shyla's wards never go down. Never. Not when she's sleeping; not when she's halfway around the world; not when she's been knocked out by means mundane or magical. Something is very wrong here, and I have to figure it out."

"Whoa, Leigh, wait. Everyone's wards go down now and then with distance or exhaustion," I said, quizzically gazing at her, head tilted and eyebrows raised. This was straying further and further from my plan with every passing moment, but I couldn't afford to panic. I could always calm Leigh down with the carefully laid and inescapable pleasure compulsion I had implanted in her through the months of our affair, but I needed more information first.

"Not hers Sarai," she said, despair tingeing her voice as she came over to me and sat next to me on Shyla's couch. She faced me, and took my hands in hers, placing them over our touching knees. She gazed at me, oozing sincerity. "I haven't told anyone this before. Shyla's mother and my mother were very close. Shyla's mother didn't want Shyla to get a swelled head or be tempted by the darker paths that would have been open to one of her power, so she never told her just how powerful she was. My mother respected her mother's decision but didn't agree with it. As a hedge, she told me what Shyla's mother refused to tell Shyla. She is more powerful than any user has been in more than three generations. She thought it was normal that her wards never went down, and I, forced to secrecy, went along with it. I helped embroider the lie that Shyla has lived. And now her wards have failed, and I can't imagine what might have caused it Sarai. I can feel them, broken, shattered and drained. She didn't take them down."

Inside, I could hardly contain my glee. The most powerful user in three generations, and she was bound to my demon. With the power of both of them under my command, I might be able to simply break into the mysteries of the shop. Still, better safe than sorry. I would continue on my plan.

"Oh, sweetie. Are you sure, absolutely sure, that there is no ordinary explanation for Shyla's wards going down?" I asked her.

"I know it might be hard for you to understand Sarai, but I am certain," she said, her youthful face set in hard lines of stubbornness.

"Okay Leigh. I believe you. What do we do now?" I asked her, trying to sound compassionate and not ecstatic at the worth of the prize passed out in my dungeon.

"Could you leave for a few minutes and let me read the apartment? I need to be calm and collected and alone for it, because I'm not very good at it, you know?"

"Sure hun. I'll be right outside if you need me," I told her. I left the apartment. This would be the biggest risk of the day. I didn't think that Leigh could actually read what had happened in the apartment. I knew her skills at reading the past were shaky at the best of times and with the emotional turmoil she had been displaying there would be little she could get. And if she did read it accurately, there was always the pleasure snare.

I waited for fifteen minutes outside the apartment, exercising the patience that had enabled me to bind a demon. In comparison, waiting for Leigh was nothing, I told myself as my agitation began to grow at how long she was taking. After five more minutes had passed, I almost went inside the apartment. Waiting without purpose was a lot more difficult than holding the complex binding spells in my head for hours at a time.

Leigh emerged, paler than usual, but calm now. I watched her impassively, still waiting, deciding how to respond.

"I don't know what happened. I can't read it. How am I going to help Shyla now Sarai?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch with each statement. I opened my arms to her and she clung to me, weeping. She couldn't see the fierce pleasure in my eyes at her confession of failure. Everything was back on my track.

***

Leigh wanted to trust Sarai. That's why she had told her about Shyla's great potential. But after that, there was just something wrong about Sarai, about her attitude. Leigh was nowhere near as strong in using magic as Shyla, but she had her own strengths and one of those was empathy.

In many ways, Leigh was ideally suited to running the shop. Her strong empathy allowed her to guard the more dangerous secrets with a finesse few could match. Where her strength or skill would not hold up, the shop would bolster her with its own defenses through the bond of heritage. One thing that Leigh and Shyla had in common was a rare ability to sense magic through scent, a trait they shared in equal measure. Combined with Leigh's eidetic memory, this was a powerful tool for her.

After she had convinced Sarai to leave Shyla's apartment, Leigh went to the front door, leaning against it and centering herself. Leigh and Shyla had been raised like sisters, by mothers who were as close. Leigh knew what Shyla's routines were. That made it easier for her to slide into a reading of the past.

Deep breaths brought the scent of Shyla to Leigh. Not just the scent of soap and shampoo from her skin and hair, but the comforting and inexpressible scent of her being, her essence, her soul. Something as intimate to Leigh as her own center. Leigh closed her eyes breathing out, and as she opened them, she reached within and delicately sought the path of past sight. Releasing her breath and opening her eyes, she saw Shyla.

Not the actual physical Shyla, but a shadowy ghost, an impression of the last time Shyla had entered her apartment. She walked inside and began taking her clothing off. Leigh forced herself to watch impassively, not allowing emotion to interfere with the sight. She followed the image of Shyla into the bathroom.

Leigh saw the bottle set onto the edge of the tub, and Shyla waiting for the water to heat before entering the shower. Leigh could see her hand grab the bottle, but once she pulled off the stopper, all she could see was a cloud of darkness filling the shower. Darkness that smelled of brimstone.

It moved from the shower, and Leigh had to scramble to get out of its way. A sighting of the past it may have been, but she did not want it touching her nonetheless. It went to the bedroom, and then disappeared. Shyla was gone.

But Sarai was there. There and on the phone. Leigh could not hear the words being exchanged, but the call lasted too long to be the one when she had alerted Leigh to Shyla's disappearance. Which meant that Sarai had been there earlier.

Leigh's heart turned to stone as she realized that Sarai was more involved than she had let on. Whatever she did, she could not afford to let Sarai know what she now knew. She must be strong. Leigh left the apartment, outwardly calm, hoping to find some clue in Sarai's visage and seeing nothing. Time to perform.

"I don't know what happened. I can't read it. How am I going to help Shyla now Sarai?" Leigh allowed her panic and over stimulated emotions come through in her voice and aura, hiding her anger and confusion at Sarai's as yet unknown role in Shyla's disappearance. Falling into Sarai's arms, she began to sob in earnest, straining not to respond to the spike of glee she felt from Sarai at her admission of ignorance.

"Let's go back to the shop first. You need to relax darling. Let me make you a cup of tea," Sarai crooned into Leigh's ear as her sobs began to lose energy. "We need to think this through and figure out the most logical explanation."

"Of course," Leigh replied. "You're right. Let's go."

"I'll drive us. You're in no shape to." Leigh nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

In the car, both Sarai and Leigh were quiet. The silence was broken only by an occasional sniffle on Leigh's part. This was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Leigh had believed herself to be in love with Sarai, thought that Sarai was in love with her. Knowing that she had something to do with Shyla's disappearance was breaking that bond faster even than finding out about infidelity would have. Shyla was Leigh's sister in spirit, closer than blood, closer than lovers.

Sarai parked in the rear of the shop, where the back entrance also gave access to the apartment above the shop where Leigh made her home.

"Come on," Sarai said once she parked the car. "Inside. We'll figure this out Leigh."

Leigh sighed and followed her up the outside stairs. The door was unlocked, but well warded. No one uninvited would be able to enter. Sarai, of course, had an open invitation and went in before Leigh, immediately heading to the stove to start the kettle boiling.

Leigh sat at the kitchen table, watching Sarai bustle about the small kitchen as if nothing were wrong or out of the ordinary, and wondering how she could ever have thought she loved this woman.

The kettle whistled and Sarai began to steep two cups, setting one before Leigh and taking a seat across from her with the other.

"This will set you right Leigh and we'll be able to start thinking about this logically."

Leigh nodded, and smiled tightly in response. The steam from the cup before her began to swirl around her face. The smell was sweet and tart, rose hips, raspberry, licorice powder, a hint of cardamom, chamomile and cinnamon. Leigh felt her body relax, breathing in the steam.

Sarai took the tea balls out of each cup and began to sip at hers. Leigh followed suit, finding the flavor and the heat comforting. Comforting and something more. She felt the heat begin to pool between her legs. It felt good. Another sip, more heat. Leigh let herself sink into the pleasure of it, relaxing more with each passing moment. She was focused on the tea, breathing in the steam and sipping and savoring the sweet and tart heat of it.

Sarai rose from her seat across from Leigh, her tea mostly untouched, and began to rub Leigh's shoulders lightly. Leigh responded to the touch by relaxing more, her head dropping closer to the still steaming tea. Sarai's hands slid below Leigh's shirt, flesh touching flesh to complete the pleasure compulsion.

Sarai had placed her compulsion well.

Leigh moaned. Her focus was forced to pleasure, to the throbbing heat between her legs and the stimulating scratch of fabric on her nipples. Sarai leaned down, putting her lips near Leigh's left ear.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered, breath tickling Leigh's neck, and eliciting another moan.

"Yes."

Leigh let herself be led to the bed, let Sarai pull of her clothing in a haze of pleasure. Sarai kept her clothes on, pushing Leigh onto the bed and covering Leigh's naked body with her clothed one. Leigh's hips began to pump, seeking something to hump against or something to fill the hot aching void between her legs.

Keeping pressure on Leigh's hips, but not giving her anything solid to hump against, Sarai reached to the corners of the bed where they had taken to keeping sport cuffs. Sarai fastened Leigh's wrists to opposite corners of the bed and lightly scratched her nails down Leigh's arms on the way to grabbing her breasts.

Sarai straddled Leigh's stomach, still allowing nothing to satisfy Leigh's urgent need to hump, letting the ache between Leigh's legs build and build, pushing her deep into her own mind. Sarai mauled Leigh's breasts with her hands, molding, squeezing them and digging her nails into the delicate flesh.

Leigh whimpered, not in pain, but desire as the ache between her legs continued to burn away conscious thought. Sarai leaned down and whispered in Leigh's ear.

"Leigh, can you hear me?"

Leigh moaned in response, her hips twisting in an attempt to find something, anything, to rub against. Her eyes were glazed over, her face contorted with the desire to be fucked. Eidetic memory or no, she was in no shape to be aware of anything going on around her. It was time for Sarai to implement some damage control.

"Look at me Leigh. Look in my eyes and listen to me. Your body will remember my words." Sarai slid her right hand to Leigh's clit and teased it, a promise to Leigh's body of what obedience would bring. Leigh tried to get Sarai's fingers inside her, moving her hips pleadingly. "Be still. You'll get your reward when you have listened, my little slut."

Leigh's body stopped its urgent wiggles, and she relaxed into staring into Sarai's eyes, still feeling the teasing caress of Sarai's nails between her legs.

"Every time you worry about Shyla, you will feel helplessly aroused. The more you worry, the less able you will be able to resist fucking yourself. Once you give in to fucking yourself, just as I'm going to fuck you right now, you will pass out when you climax. Each time you pass out, you will remember Shyla less. If you will not ignore her absence to please me, then you will make yourself forget her. It will feel so good to forget her Leigh. So good to please me."

Sarai grabbed the surprise she had hidden beneath Leigh's pillow without breaking eye contact. She had spent months preparing this dildo for Leigh. Leigh would never see it; her eyes would always glide over it. She would only be aware of its presence when she was caught in this new pleasure compulsion Sarai was creating, and she still wouldn't actually see it. She would just grab it and fuck herself silly. It was matte black, of a glass-like material, slightly larger around than Sarai's wrist, and 12 inches long. The shape was not modeled after a human penis, but a smaller version of the demon cock that had raped Shyla, forged by the demon himself at Sarai's command.

Sarai eased down Leigh's body, spreading Leigh's legs to make room for herself to kneel.

"Feel this; remember this; obey me and this pleasure is yours, always." Sarai told Leigh's unconscious mind.

Leigh wasn't just wet, she was soaked. The sheets beneath her were already discolored with her eager wetness. Sarai used the demon dildo to tease at Leigh's opening, making sure the angle was just right before thrusting it inside her senseless little slut as far as it would go. Eight inches sank immediately into Leigh's hungry cunt.

Leigh screamed with pleasure, but remained still, her mind and body still obedient to Sarai's command.

"You may move, slut. Fuck yourself. When you cum, you will bind yourself to my wishes. It is your choice to cum, your own will that binds you," Sarai crooned. Leigh had begun to hump as soon as permission was granted, her enthusiasm at her task increasing when Sarai commanded her to fuck herself.

Sarai held the dildo firmly, allowing Leigh to be the author of her own destruction, but not aiding her in any other way. It was time to let Leigh choose. Pleasure, or Shyla.