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My Best Friend is a Succubus

Book Three: Embrace of Evil

By Amanda Clover

@amandasmut
This book and all its contents are copyright 2017 by Amanda Clover.
All rights are reserved and no portions may be reproduced unless for
the use of brief quotations for review purposes.

All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a
work of parody and any resemblance to real people or situations is
coincidental.
 Reinforcements

Someone has written SUCK SATAN’S DICK in white spray paint

on the grimy wall of the abandoned train tunnel. Underneath that is
a pentacle, only they have painted a Star of David, so I’m not sure if
they were confused or some sort of Jewish Satanists. It all seems a
little too on the nose given recent circumstances.
And what circumstances they are! Chased out of my happy
home by some sort of militant Christian group called the Inquisition
all because I found a magic book and accidentally summoned a
succubus. It could happen to any high school senior. Not. Welcome
to the life of Faith Granger.
Come on, I don’t always make the best choices, but
summoning Morgana has certainly complicated my life. I can’t blame
it on her. The beautiful succubus has turned me on in ways I never
imagined, awakening desires I had repressed, but she has also been
a friend and confidant. Having her around was fun and exciting,
right up until my pervy uncle Patrick showed up looking for my
magic book. Then he brought his friends from the Inquisition and
this creepy guy named Deacon Morning. We barely escaped.
Morgana and I tried to get help hiding from the Inquisition
from a coven of demon-worshippers in Bentley Hills. The cult’s
leader, Anson, was supposed to cast a spell to conceal us from the
Inquisition. He never had a chance. The Inquisition raided the
coven’s sexual ritual and things turned nasty. Real nasty. Like guns
and blood everywhere. Somehow, I got my hands on the cult’s
magic sword. It’s really magic. It even glows when I pick it up.
I escaped with TV weathergirl Qatrina Snow and hunky ex-
college athlete Beau Bradford, but not my new best friend. Morgana
battled the Inquisition and used that weird telepathic voice to tell me
to get out. Despite my magical connection to her, I haven’t heard
anything from her in hours.
I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, trying not cry
again. Runk, the skinny, red-skinned seeker demon who brought us
to this abandoned train tunnel, hops over to me and puts a
comforting claw on my shoulder. It would be a much nicer gesture if
he weren’t naked and standing with his weird little demon dick right
next to my face. Okay, it’s not that little, considering he is less than
three feet tall, but I don’t want to be staring at it right now.
“It be okay,” says Runk. “Worst thing happen she get killed
and goes back to abyss for 99 years.”
“Oh, that’s the worst case?” I laugh miserably. “What’s the
best case?”
“Captured with magic seal and tortured by Inquisition. Also for
99 years.”
“She isn’t dead,” I say, reassuring myself. “I still feel her out
there. Faint and far, but I… she’s there. She’s alive.”
I close my eyes tightly so the beady-eyed little demon won’t
see the tears forming. What I didn’t tell him is that the feeling of
connection to her has been fading by the hour. They’re either doing
terrible things to Morgana or taking her so far away our connection
will be severed.
Once my emotions are under control, I look across the tunnel
at Qatrina and Beau huddled together against the opposite wall.
They were nice to me back at the coven, but it has clearly sunk in
for them that most of their friends are dead and it was sorta my
fault. Well, not my fault, but like 50/50 with me and the Inquisition.
They glare at me. What they don’t know is that the Inquisition
is after the big, stupid magic tome stuffed in my backpack. They
have ways of finding The Septagrammaton Codex, which means
they have ways of finding us even if Runk assured me that this train
tunnel is “cursed” and “hard to see by scrying.” Whatever that
means.
I kick my backpack and it barely budges with the heavy book
inside.
This damned book shouldn’t be my problem. Someone just
dropped it in my school library’s book donation box along with all the
old romance novels and encyclopedias. I got curious and stole the
book. I wish I could dump the stupid thing in a lake. It would make
everything easier. But the Inquisition has Morgana, so trashing my
one source of power, my one advantage, isn’t an option. I can’t
abandon Morgana to be tortured for 99 years.
“We need help,” I say to myself.
“Who help?” Runk asks, massaging my shoulders with his little
claws.
It’s a fair question. My dad is missing, so no help from him.
Mrs. Davenport? Morgana pushed my relationship with the beautiful
librarian to a whole new level of intimacy, but that doesn’t mean I
can trust her. For all I know, she is somehow connected to the
Inquisition. I have some great teachers at school, but the same goes
for them.
No, when I’m down and out, there are only three people I can
really trust: my longtime friends Cody, Brandon, and Amira. I don’t
want to involve them, but I have no other choice.
“We need to go,” I say to Runk.
“We should stay here,” he says and I feel something warm and
hard rubbing against the back of my neck.
“Ew! Are you rubbing your dick on me?”
The seeker demon hops back, covering his cock with his
hands. I shake my head with contempt.
“So gross,” I say. “I can’t believe I let you… well, never mind.
We need to go. Staying here is only endangering them.”
 I glance over at Qatrina and Beau. I feel a pang of regret. I
came so close to losing my virginity to Beau Bradford back at the
coven that I will be haunted by that forever. The moment is gone
between us. He hates me now.
“We’re going,” I say to them, standing up and shouldering my
heavy backpack. “They’re going to be looking for me, not the two of
you.”
“You’re just going to leave us?” Qatrina sobs, looking at me
through teary eyes. “How are we even supposed to get back to the
city? I have a six-AM broadcast!”
“I wouldn’t go back there for a couple days,” I say. “Go on a
vacation or something.”
Beau doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me with this look
on his face like, “I can’t believe I almost had sex with you.” Blurgh.
He totally almost did and he is so hot. I sigh one last time and walk
out of the tunnel. It’s time to call in some backup.
I arrange with my friends to meet me at the parking lot of the
7-12 in that sleazy stripmall by the porno store. It’s close to Cody’s
house, but he’s slow to get moving and takes his bicycle. Amira and
Brandon show up at almost the same time, pulling up in cars near
where I am standing under the fluorescent light and the circling
bugs.
All three of my friends look sleepy. Cody seems annoyed,
Amira seems confused, and Brandon is giving me that same puppy
dog look he always gives me ever since he confessed his crush on
me. I toss them each a bottle of iced coffee from the 7-12 coolers.
That perks Cody up at least.
“So why are we standing in the parking lot of a stripmall at
four in the morning, Faith?” Amira asks.
“Because I need to show you something,” I say, walking over
to my car and opening the back door. Runk is inside, covered in the
emergency blanket from the trunk.
 “That had better be E.T. under there,” says Cody, “or I am
going to—“
I yank the blanket side and Runk rises from his haunches.
They each react to the shock of seeing a real, live three-foot-tall
demon standing in the back of my car in different ways. Cody faints
straight away and Brandon has to catch him. Amira covers her
mouth to keep from screaming. Brandon stares, wide-eyed, as he
holds Cody upright until Cody finally comes around. He looks at
Runk again, seems almost like he is going to faint again, but
steadies himself.
Amira is the first to break the silence.
“What the… what is that?”
“It’s called a seeker demon,” I say. “Don’t get too freaked out
by the demon part. He’s really pretty nice. His name is Runk.”
“Why does he have a bandana tied around him?” Cody asks.
Oh, right. I tied a bandana around him so they weren’t staring
at his dick the whole time. It is sort of distracting and much too big
for his skinny body.
“Uh, modesty,” I say. “Look, don’t worry about the seeker
demon. I need your help with something crazy and I knew I needed
some real proof. All that stuff I was telling you about yesterday is
real. Magic is real. Demons are real. And I am in some real trouble.”
“Demon trouble?” Amira asks, raising one of her dark
eyebrows.
I give them the short version that makes me sound as
innocent as possible. Glossing over the whole lezzing out with Mrs.
Davenport the school librarian part and only referring to my intimacy
with Morgana as her being “super sexy.” I wind the story through
the cult and finish up with Morgana being captured.
“I think I can find her,” I say, trying to read their reactions.
“But we don’t have much time and I need your help.”
 “I’m out,” says Amira. “I love you, Faith, you know I do.
Besties since Brownies. I can’t get mixed up with… with demons.”
I have to respect that, she’s not a strict Muslim, but she takes
her faith pretty seriously. Cody is shaking his head as well. I can’t
imagine my gay atheist friend has a big problem with demons.
“It’s too dangerous. You said these guys were shooting people
with guns.” Cody folds his arms across his chest. “No way, sweetie.
This is bonkers. You need to call the cops or something. Uh-uh, I’m
eighteen, I have a lot of boys I still want to kiss.”
Brandon practically interrupts Cody to say, “I’m in. If you’re in
trouble, I’m there for you, even if it’s dangerous and, uh, involves
demons.”
Somehow, I knew Brandon would be with me. He’s sort of cute
in that shy, nerdy sort of way, a bit overgrown, with glasses and a
mop of hair. We had one kiss, closed-mouthed, and he has been
pining for me ever since.
I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly enough that
I bet he feels my breasts squeezing against him.
“Thank you!” I exclaim.
“What good are friends if they don’t stick with you through
something like, uh, this,” says Brandon, indicating Runk.
“What I do?” Asks the demon with a curious twitch of his ears.
“Not, uh, you,” says Brandon, growing nervous. “Oh, man, it’s
like a puppet coming to life or something. I don’t know if I can get
used to a demon.”
“That’s why I'm out,” says Cody.
“Because of this little muppet?” Says Brandon, showing some
backbone. “Because of demons or guns or something? She is our
best friend. We’ve known her for years. We should just turn our back
on her when she needs us most?”
“If I had a story like hers,” says Cody, “I would not expect—“
 "Is this really life or death?" Amira asks, looking at me with
concern.
"My friend will die," I say. "And then they'll probably come for
me."
“Alright,” sighs Amira. “You win. I’ll help.”
“What?!” Cody looks at her in surprise. “You’re going along
with this?”
“Brandon is a big wuss,” reasons Amira. “Remember when he
would not go in the Halloween haunted house in junior high? If he
can do this, I can do this.”
She walks over and stands with me and Brandon. Cody shakes
his head and curses. He walks over and joins the three of us.
“Well, I’m not going to play into stereotypes about gay
people,” says Cody. Amira rolls her eyes and Cody snaps, “Any more
than I already do.”
Brandon ignores their fighting back and forth and asks me, “So
what do we do? What’s our first move to rescue this succubus friend
of yours?”
I give Runk a knowing look.
“We summon a badass.”
If this were a movie it would cut to me slamming the codex
down onto a picnic table at Bramble Park. Nobody goes to Bramble
Park, definitely not for a picnic at four in the morning, so it’s the
perfect place to summon a demon. Runk scrambles up onto the
table and I pull out a flashlight as I begin to flick through the pages.
“What about this one?” I ask, trying to pronounce the name of
a demon illustrated as being a hulking humanoid covered with
knives. “Tu-te-luv-alus?”
“Very arrogant,” says Runk. “Not help at all. And ruin chairs.”
 Brandon and Amira are cleaning branches from a nearby
clearing in the woods so we can perform the summoning ritual for
whatever it is we are going to summon. Cody is standing a few feet
away, not helping, not even looking at the book, just texting
furiously on his phone to some guy from a dating app.
I continue to page through the codex. Runk vetoes a blob with
a giant mouth called an Icklonoseth, which sounds like a fish disease
anyway, and a sexy looking woman with four arms and a snake for
the lower half of her body called an Echidna Minimus. Finally, I stop
at a brutish looking creature that looks like a cross between a
volcano and a suit of armor come to life. The visor-like eyes are
glowing even in the crude sketch and lava seems to want to escape
around every armored plate.
“This is cursed guard,” says Runk, ignoring the Latin-like actual
name of the demon. “Cowardly demons are put inside prison suit
that makes them fight until burn up. Very, very tough. One cursed
guard destroy entire company of kinjat skirmishers. It have to do
what you say.”
“Are you sure that thing will fit in my car? It looks a little big.”
Runk cranes his slender neck to look at my crappy car. “Yes,
will fit. Do not activate him until time for fighting. Burn out fast.
Maybe set fire to things.”
Remembering the unsavory things I had to do to earn Runk’s
servitude, I scan the fine print of the entry. There is nothing about
having sex with the cursed guard or giving him a blowjob. But there
are a few disconcerting references to a “sacrifice” and “payment in
blood” to the “master of the cursed guard.”
“What does all this stuff about blood mean?” I ask Runk.
“You and friends give blood. One measure says. This like, one
cup blood.”
Doesn’t sound like a lot of blood, right? Yeah, you try
convincing three other teenagers to slice open their palms and
squeeze out a cup of blood.
“Ahhhhh, it stings,” cries Cody, looking away as he squeezes
the slash across the palm of his hand. It takes several minutes
before the bottom of the 7-12 cup is full of dark red blood. Cody
looks pale, Amira looks unhappy, and Brandon is already binding
your wound up with a torn piece of his shirt.
“I prepare offering,” says Runk. “Take time.”
“How long?” I ask, wincing as Brandon finishes tying the cloth
around your hand.
“Before sunrise.” Runk says with annoyance as he gets down
into a cross-legged position next to the cup full of blood. “I tell you
when ready.”
He begins chanting quietly. Cody whispers, “That little thing
isn’t going to eat our blood, is he?”
“Why don’t you guys keep watch on him to make sure he
doesn’t,” I suggest. “I’m going for a walk for a few minutes. I need
to clear my head.”
I walk away from the clearing and into the moonlit woods. I
want to be alone, to close my eyes and reach out to Morgana one
last time before the ritual, but I hear footsteps rushing to catch up
behind me.
“Brandon,” I say. I stop short of telling him to leave. He gives
me those puppy dog eyes and I remember the way he stood up for
me with Cody and Amira. “What’s up?”
“Thought you could use some company,” he says. “This must
be pretty rough for you, losing your, um, friend.”
“Morgana is wonderful,” I say. “She’s beautiful and helps me.
Do you remember when I came into school and I was looking sexy?”
“You always look sexy,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “She gave me this potion that made me, you
know, super hot. Or as hot as I can get, I mean. Not as hot as her.
But the only people who went nuts for it were you and Mrs.
Davenport.”
“The librarian?”
“Yeah,” I say, glad that’s so dark out here he can’t see how red
my face is getting remembering my encounters with Mrs. Davenport.
The first I only watched while Morgana impersonated me, the other
was the real thing, and I still remember the way Mrs. Davenport
smelled, tasted, and the feel of her stockings brushing against my
cheek. The way her fingers and tongue touched me. The look in her
eyes as she made me cum. I realize I haven’t been listening to
Brandon and I clear my throat and come to my senses.
“What, uh, what were you saying?” I ask.
“I was just asking about… nothing, forget it,” he says. “It’s
silly.”
“No, no,” I say. “Tell me.”
“That date we went on a few months ago,” he says. “You
kissed me and then later that night you told me we should just stay
friends. What did I do?”
“Nothing, it was me,” I say.
“But you kissed me,” he says, sounding a little exasperated.
“Then we saw that movie, which sucked, but after that we rode in
the car—“
I kiss him to shut him up. I can’t take the whining. He is so
surprised that he keeps his lips shut tightly. I let the kiss linger, I
want him to really feel it this time. When I finally pull away, I see the
stunned look on his moonlit face.
“There, are you happy now?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I liked
you better when you were sticking up for me with—“
It’s Brandon’s turn to surprise me with a kiss. He presses back
and wraps his arms around me. They feel strong and his body is
warm against mine. My moment of shock melts into understanding
and I part my lips. His tongue explores my mouth and mingles with
his in a swirling embrace. This feels right. I’ve been in a crazy world
the past few days, surrounded by sex and exploring my own
boundaries. I’m still a virgin by some definitions, but I don’t feel like
it anymore.
I feel like, I dunno, a fuck-hungry slut or a cum-craving whore
or some name you might see in the title of a video on XXX Hub. My
hand goes down to the front of Brandon’s jeans before I even think
about what I’m doing. I feel his hardness and squeeze his rigid
length through the denim. He gasps into the kiss.
“Is that what you want?” I moan, kissing him again. “Do you
want me to feel your cock? To wrap my hand around it?”
“Oh, god, Faith, I wasn’t… ohhh…”
I’m ignoring any second thoughts. Unless he shouts “No!” at
me, I intend to keep going. Breathing heavily, I lean my head
against his shoulder and reach down with both hands. I use one to
continue massaging his hard cock through his jeans as I begin to
unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. He’s watching too as I
reach into his jeans, my hand pushing under the elastic waistband of
his tighty-whitie underwear, and I grab hold of his cock.
It feels big in my hand, raging hard for sure, although as I pull
his undies down I’m a little disappointed. Only average. Maybe even
a little shorter than average. But, right now, with everything I’m
feeling, my heart is pounding wildly for average. I kiss him again and
start stroking him standing right there in the moonlit woods.
“Faith,” he gasps, moving his hands up and under my
sweatshirt. I moan against his lips as he cups my breasts through
my bra. My nipples are pressing hard inside the cups and I’m almost
relieved as he bends the bra down and releases my straining buds.
He lifts my sweatshirt up above my breasts and leans his face down,
his lip hot against my chest and his kiss traveling to one of my fat
nipples. He says something I can’t quite make out as he buries his
face against my left breast and sucking at my nipple.
 Brandon’s precum slicks my fingers and my hand on his cock
takes on a raunchy, wet sound. I grip his cock tightly, pumping my
hand along his length as he works his hips and fucks through my
grasp. Brand gasps and moans against my breast. He moves his
mouth to my other nipple, but seems too distracted to suck.
“Oh, Faith, I’m… ahhhh! AHH!”
I hear the splash against my jeans before I feel the throbbing
of his cock. I look down and I can see glistening ropes of Brandon’s
milky cum shooting out of his cock and splashing all over the shins
of my jeans and the front of my right shoe. I milk him diligently,
working my hand up and down his spurting length until the last
pearly drops spill out and into the dark grass below.
“It was just all pent up,” he says. “Give me… give me a few
minutes and we can go again.”
I smile and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s alright, Brandon.
See, we’re more than friends now? I’m sure you’ll have another
chance soon enough.”
He watches with disappointment as I clean my hand and jeans
off with a napkin and then pull my bra and sweatshirt back into
place. He tucks his cock away and zips up. I don’t blame him for
cumming so quickly, he is probably a virgin and it was pretty hot.
That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Brandon doesn’t need to
know this, but I was ready to give it up right then and there. I need
a cock. It could have been his.
We walk together back to the clearing. Brandon is acting all
weirdly nervous, but Runk is done.
“Offering ready,” he reports. “Draw circle now.”
The summoning circle is very simple and the chant, a series of
syllables that sound suspiciously like that In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida song
my dad plays when he smokes weed. We chant it over and over
again, staring at the slightly leaning cup of blood sitting in the
middle of the circle. We complete all ten stanzas of the chant and
the wood-lined clearing falls silent.
“See?” Cody looks around. “Nothing. We should go home
now.”
“Give it time,” I say, although I didn’t have to wait around for
Runk or Morgana to appear when I summoned them. I look back at
the seeker demon sitting on the picnic table licking the inside of a
candy wrapper he found on the ground. It’s not exactly inspiring
confidence to see my chief advisor eating garbage.
I can feel the faint pinging of Morgana in my mind. It is slowly
fading away to nothing and I know if this effort fails, she is lost.
Without Morgana, I might as well hand the codex over to my pervy
uncle and these other lunatics at the Inquisition. Amira and Brandon
look at me expectantly. Cody starts texting one of the guys on his
hookup app.
I’m about to make a snide comment to Cody when I see a red
light above the clearing. An unusual star? A passing airplane? No, it’s
growing larger and it is much lower to the ground. The red begins to
grow brighter and brighter and we all stare at it as the light fills the
clearing. Purple lightning begins to crackle outward from the glowing
orb. The hairs on my neck stand on end. Amira looks she is going to
scream and Cody looks even more scared, but is filming what is
happening with his phone.
There is a flash of light that fades and takes the red glow with
it. The shape of a humanoid remains in the clearing, crouched tightly
where the cup of blood had been moments before. It slowly rises to
a standing position and…
“That’s it?” Cody says, sounding more than a little
disappointed.
The cursed guard looks exactly like the illustration if the light
had been turned out. There is no glow behind its visor or around the
joints of its armor. More importantly, it’s barely four feet tall. It could
be Runk’s bigger brother wearing a child’s knight costume.
 “To be honest, I expected something more,” I say, slowly
approaching the cursed guard. It has that same brimstone smell as
Runk. It tilts its iron helmet to gaze up at me and I finally see a faint
red glow behind its visor.
“What do you command, sorceress?” It asks in an
incongruously loud and booming voice.
Runk said this thing killed an entire company of “kinjat
skirmishers.” Now I’m wondering if a kinjat is another word for a
mouse or something.
“Uh, for now, go sit in the car over there,” I say.
“Yes, sorceress,” thunders the voice. The cursed guard clanks
loudly as he marches over to my car, struggles for several seconds to
figure out how to open the door, and finally climbs into the back
seat.
“Well,” I sigh, looking at my friends. “I suppose we have our
secret weapon. Now I have to find Morgana.”
“Okay,” says Cody. “But I call shotgun. I am not sitting next to
Small Soldier. He stinks.”
 The Rescue

I need to concentrate on the relative strength of my

connection to Morgana, using it like a homing signal, so Brandon is
driving my car and I am riding shotgun. Much to the chagrin of
Cody, who is half of a sandwich with Amira and the cursed guard.
Runk is riding in the trunk of the car, occasionally peeking his head
out through the fold-down back seat to check on everything.
I close my eyes and reach out for Morgana. The connection is
so tenuous that in some moments I feel it is gone, but no, it is
growing subtly stronger as we driver further away from Peach Valley
and deeper into the woods. Only the occasional passing car and road
sign remind us that we aren’t in some post-apocalyptic dreamworld.
This is much more dark country than I am used to.
“Turn… left,” I say. I squeeze my hands around the scabbard
of the magic sword I took from the Bentley Hills coven, as if its
magic can enhance my own.
“Here?” Brandon asks. He slows the car down and looks
uncertainly at an overgrown dirt road into the forest.
“Yes, that’s it,” I say, closing my eyes again and focusing on
Morgana. I am beginning to “hear” sounds in my head. Not a
coherent voice, but moaning and gasping, as if she is in too much
pain to form words. These become louder as Brandon drives my car
down the lonely dirt road.
“There’s some sort of building up ahead,” he warns. “And
cars.”
I open my eyes and see a cabin about a half a mile down the
dirt track. The lights are on and there are two big Bronco off-road
SUVs parked outside.
 “Turn off the headlights,” I hiss. “Pull off the road into the
woods a little bit.”
Tree branches scrape the underside of my rusty car. I sure
hope nothing important falls off as Brandon almost blindly drives my
car a few feet into the forest. Luckily, he does not hit a big rock or a
hidden tree stump.
“This is good,” I whisper, as if the people in the cabin might be
able to hear us talking.
I get out of the car and move with my friends to the edge of
the road for a better look. The curtains are pulled across the cabin’s
windows, but I can make out figures moving inside the cabin. There
are also two men standing outside of it and they have shotguns.
“We need to get them out of there,” I whisper. “I can’t just
send the cursed guardian in. He will destroy everything in his path.”
“All of your enemies!” The cursed guardian shouts.
“Shhhhhhhh!” I cringe at the loud voice, but the two guards
posted outside the cabin don’t seem to notice. “We need them away
from the cabin. Somewhere the cursed guardian can ambush them
without risking collateral damage.”
“There was an all-night Laundromat just before we turned
onto the highway,” suggests Amira. “It was deserted.”
“That’s good,” I say. “I’ll call them and tell them to hand over
the codex and tell them to meet me at that Laundromat. You guys
take the cursed guardian and when they show up, turn him loose.”
“Can we control him?” Cody looks dubious.
“I will obey the commands of any officer to which I am
assigned,” shouts the cursed guardian.
“Okay, thank you,” I say, my heart pounding once again from
his loud voice. “Can you just not talk anymore? Like while we are out
here in the woods please just stop talking.”
He nods his helmet-like head with a grinding of metal.
 Cody asks, “What are you going to do while we’re using a
demon to fight a cult?”
“They won’t all leave the cabin. Morgana is in there
somewhere. I will find her and handle whoever is left.” I wish I felt
as sure about my ability to handle any of the Inquisition people as I
am trying to sound. “Once the cursed guard is done, you come and
find me.”
“I go with you,” says Runk.
“Right, me and Runk,” I say.
“I should stay with you too,” says Brandon, taking my hand
and squeezing it.
“N-no,” I say, feeling an unexpected welling of emotion as I
look into his earnest eyes. “I am giving you command of the cursed
guard. You need to turn him loose on the Inquisition once they show
up.”
I give Brandon my heavy backpack containing the huge
Septagrammaton Codex.
“These Inquisitors have a demon that can sense the book. This
ruse won’t work unless you actually have it.”
“Got it,” he says, sliding the bag over his shoulder.
“It’s not going to be easy, Brandon,” I say, taking his hand and
squeezing it like he squeezed mine. “But I trust you to do it.
Morgana and I are counting on you.”
“Also me,” says Runk.
“Fine,” says Brandon. “But if you get yourself killed, uh, I will
be really disappointed.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I say and give him a flirtatious wink.
Amira chuckles.
“Barf,” says Cody. “Can we just go and get murdered by these
Inquisitor people before I die of sap poisoning?”
 They pile into my car and pull away, leaving me standing in the
dark woods with just Runk by my side. I take a deep breath and
creep closer to the cabin. I close my eyes and reach out to Morgana.
I sense a twinge from her, as if she finally senses me getting closer,
but the sounds are just more moans of pain. I move into a position
overlooking the cabin from concealment.
The sky is just beginning to lighten with dawn as I take out my
phone and dial my uncle’s number.
“Faith,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Faith,
have you finally come to your senses? Ready to give up?”
“I have the Septagrammaton Codex,” I say, picturing the
gruesomely ornate cover. “If you want it back, you can find me at
the Laundromat on Highway 19.”
“Good thinking,” says Uncle Patrick. “Nobody is gonna hurt
you, Faith. We just want the book. We’re coming right over.”
“What about my dad?” I say.
There is a pause before he answers, “You’ll get to see him
soon enough.”
I don’t like the sound of that. I hang up the phone and watch
the cabin from my hidden vantage point. Runk leans against me and
I have a flash of recollection of my unusual intimacy with the little
demon. It was not the sort of thing I would have normally chosen,
but I am glad to have him by my side right now. I stroke his head
between his pointed ears.
“They coming out,” he says. “Can smell their seeker.”
A moment later, the door to the cabin bangs open and a
parade of heavily armed men filed out. There is something off about
every one of these guys. Their eyes are too big, necks too long,
faces asymmetrical; each one has a different minor deformity. My
uncle is among the last to exit the cabin and he is pulling a seeker
demon along by a golden chain around its slender neck. It yips and
hisses, fighting to keep from going into one of the vehicles.
 “Come on, you little biter,” shouts my uncle and I see he has a
bandaged hand. He kicks the creature and it whimpers miserably. “Is
the book out there?”
The seeker seems to scent the air like I have seen Runk do
many times. Its beady eyes look in my direction. My heart pounds
wildly. It seems to look right into my eyes! It must be able to smell
Runk, I realize. But they are not compelling the little demon to tell
them about other seekers. They want him to find the codex.
“Is not far,” says the demon. “I take you to book. Then I am
done?”
“Yeah, we’ll kill you,” chuckles Uncle Patrick, “and send you
back to hell.”
The seeker hops into the nearest Bronco. Engines rev and both
vehicles pull away from the cabin in a clatter of gravel and a cloud of
dust. Do they have my father in addition to Morgana? I haven’t
heard from him or seen him since all this started. There’s no time to
worry about that now. My friends are about to be face-to-face with a
whole bunch of armed lunatics.
I have never been much for praying and I totally get the irony
of praying when I am standing here with a demon and trying to save
another demon, but I say a silent prayer for Brandon, Cody, Amira,
and the cursed guard. I need to make good use of the time they are
buying me.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Runk. We move low to the ground,
heading down the wooded hill to the back of the cabin. I get going a
bit faster than I mean to and sort of slam boobs-first into the wall of
the cabin. I manage to keep that ornate magic sword from smacking
into the wall. The thump wasn’t too loud, but if the Inquisitors left
anybody behind they probably heard a slightly overweight teenage
girl hitting the side of their secret hideout.
Hey, I never claimed to be a commando!
 Runk leaps up onto my shoulders and onto the roof of the
cabin. His claws make a soft clicking sound, like little pebbles against
the roof as he moves over to the quiet chimney and disappears
inside.
I close my eyes and reach out to Morgana again. Even though
I can tell she is very close to me, her presence is weaker than ever.
She is dying. I cry out with my mind, Morgana! Morgana, I am
almost there! Don’t die!
I think there is a slight ripple of recognition in reply. All around
it is darkness and the darkness is growing darker. I realize that
doesn’t make sense, but that’s what it feels like. I grip the handle
and scabbard of the magic sword more tightly and feel the strangely
reassuring pulse of its magic. I don’t know what the point of the
magic is in this sword, but it seems to like me and it makes me feel
confident having it in my hands.
The latch clicks on the back door of the cabin and the door
opens slightly. Runk’s face appears at the gap.
“Come,” he whispers. “Door not locked.”
“You smell like smoke,” I reply, following him into the dark
cabin. The little demon is covered in soot.
“Down there,” he says, pointing to stairs leading down into a
cellar. “Smell a demon. Very sick, Faith. Maybe dead.”
I feel an unexpected swell of anger at the thought. I descend
the staircase cautiously, feeling more than seeing my way down into
the cool, musty darkness of the cellar. I fumble along the wall for a
light switch, so tense that I can hear the beating of my heart. I flip
the switch and there is a seemingly loud *thunk* and pair of
incandescent bulbs flick on.
One light is at the far end of the cellar and shows the long
shelves of dry goods and preserves and a heavy door set awkwardly
in the distant wall. The other light is right above us and illuminates a
summoning circle painted on the slab floor in blood. There is a weird
slimy residue within the circle and trailing back to the shadowy
shelves.
“What is this?” I whisper to Runk.
“Not know what demon,” says Runk. “But careful. Might not be
friendly.”
“Where is it?” I ask, my grip tightening fearfully on the sword.
Runk sniffs the air of the gloomy cellar. “Hiding. Here, but
hiding.”
No time to waste being afraid. I steel myself for some horror
movie monster of a demon to jump out at me and advance into the
rows of stocked shelves. The jars of pickled food are particularly
disgusting, with things like big worms and eyeballs floating in the
pickling liquid. It’s like some serial killer’s collection of trophies. Yeah,
totally going to have a movie monster jump out at me.
To my surprise, I reach the heavy door without being attacked.
I hesitate at the door, but I can feel here there. I don’t need Runk. I
open the heavy latch and swing the door open on its creaky hinges.
The thing that is hanging from the ceiling by chains looks
nothing like the succubus I summoned two days ago. Loose, leprous
flesh dangles from the creature’s skeletal frame. Its curved horns are
broken and its tail is shriveled. Its nudity is disturbing, breasts
collapsed and vagina drooping loosely. Every bare bit of flesh is
tanned and burned with the shapes of crucifixes. Its head dangles
forward, face covered with wispy gray hair.
“M-Morgana?” I whisper.
The thing does not budge. Could it really be her? The smell is
awful.
“Morgana?” I step closer and reach a tentative hand out
toward its face.
The head jerks up suddenly and I see a skeletal face with
sunken eyes that glow with malevolent purple light. It opens its
lipless mouth and hisses at me, baring blackened fangs. I recoil in
shock and its head droops once more as the dying succubus
wheezes.
“We broke her early this morning,” says a calm voice behind
me. The hair stands up on my neck and my heart feels like it is
going to explode out my chest through my boobs.
I turn slowly around and look up into the one good eye of the
giant of a man calling himself Deacon Morning. His other eye is
covered with an eye patch, his long, stringy hair falls past the
shoulders of his dusty black coat. His holy collar seems ridiculous in
contrast to the cruel expression on his face.
“She was spirited, even for a succubus. I believe she liked you
very much. She kept calling your name as we burned the evil out of
her body.”
“You bastard,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“Now, now,” he chuckles. “Her time is almost up and so is
yours, Miss Granger. You have a date with a friend of mine.”
I hear something moving behind Deacon Morning. The shelves
of the cellar begin to shake and shed cans, sacks of grain, and jars
of pickles that smash upon the floor. I gasp in surprise as a mass of
tentacles appears from the shelves. It’s like something out of a
Japanese hentai cartoon. These things aren’t so funny when all
those lurid pink tentacles are headed in my direction. They slither
and slurp and drip with slime; a mass of tentacles as big as a grizzly
bear shoving its way towards the door.
“Faith! Run away! Incubus!”
Runk leaps between me and the doorframe. I do not even
realize Deacon Morning is holding a shotgun until he lets loose with
both barrels. Poor Runk is reduced to a smear of blood on the floor
of the cellar. The boom of the gun rings in my ears and the flash
lingers as an after-image in my eyes. I hear Deacon Morning
laughing as if he is far away.
 That sounds snaps me out of my shock. I think of Morgana
hanging from the chains, tortured nearly to death, and Runk, sent
back to the abyss with a double-barreled blast from Deacon
Morning. My shock turns to anger and my anger becomes fury like I
have never felt before.
The sword is out of its sheath and in my hands before I even
realize what I am doing. It seems to leap faster than I could move
by myself. I lash out with the blade and slice the barrels off of
Deacon Morning’s shotgun. The metal edges glow red as if cut
through by a great heat. I see a moment of terror in his face before
he recoils through the doorway.
The incubus lurches into my path, cock-tipped tentacles
writhing in a bewildering tangle, the stench of bestial arousal strong
in the air. It seems to have no eyes, but there is a single dour mouth
glimpsed within the slithering snakes of its tentacles. The tendrils
lash out at me, wrapping around my shins, my waist, my chest, and
both forearms. It tries to pull the magic blade from my grasp. It
manages to steal the scabbard from my other hand.
“Let go!” I cry, straining against the slime-covered tentacle on
my forearm.
The incubus pushes me against the wall just inside the door.
His many prehensile penises slither around me. There is a certain
rubbery quality to them, as if they are all wrapped in lubricated
latex, sliding and slithering over and around my limbs. One coils
around my neck and I stop scream to keep the dripping tip from
pushing into my mouth. Yeah, this is definitely like a hentai and I am
not enjoying myself. Slimy cock-tentacles push up the legs of my
pants and under my sweatshirt. I feel them against my belly and
coiling into my bra. This is way uncool and definitely crossing all
boundaries.
“Mmmmmmmmm!” I shout, lips sealed. I grow even angrier as
I feel tendrils unbuttoning and unzipping my pants and trying to
slide into my panties. Worse, the slime that the incubus is smearing
on my body seems to be making me feel all hot and aroused. I still
have the will to resist, but I am not certain how long until I get
slimed into submission.
Despite the apparent efforts of the burbling incubus to wrench
the sword out of my grasp, I still have a hold on the blade. Not only
that, but out of my peripheral vision I can see the blade burning
brighter and brighter as if fueled by my anger. The serpentine coils
of the incubus are avoiding contact with the blade. If I just twist my
wrist a little…
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” There is a wail of pain from within the
tentacles and a hiss as the blade parts one of the tentacles as easily
as scissors cutting hair. The detachable penis flops on the ground,
leaking black blood and writhing at my feet. Quickly, I turn the blade
again, severing two more of the tendrils.
The incubus screeches in pain again and begins to retract all of
its tendrils. The tentacles coil very quickly into the rubbery pink body
of the incubus. After a moment, there is no sign of the tendrils and
the demon looks like a large, wet and luridly pink dodge ball with the
air let out to make it flat on one side. Its mouth opens in a pitiful
moan. I raise my sword to kill it. A single dark eye opens and it looks
up at me with a pleading expression.
I hesitate.
“Please,” it speaks aloud. “Please don’t send me back.”
The sword blazes in my grasp, tugging at my hand and urging
me to kill the creature. But I don’t. I can’t.
“Don’t make a move,” I warn the little demon. I turn to
Morgana and cut her down from the rafters with a slice through her
chains. I catch her in my arms, smelling the sickness and death that
clings to her body. Her eyes slowly open, sunken and black, and she
gazes at me with seeming recognition.
I know what I have to do. I get past the fact that she looks
like someone tried to microwave a mummy and I lean my head
down to her and kiss her on her tight, parched lips. My eyes go wide
in shock as I feel the sudden tug of an unearthly current. Lavender
light spills out around my lips and hers as she begins to feed from
my life force. I have given her some before and it is an exquisite
process. Pleasure shudders through my body as my vital energy is
sucked into Morgana’s mouth.
Her stringy hair fills out and fluffs into glossy lavender waves.
Her horns mend their damage and curl back over her head in jet
black health. The lesions recede from her skin, replaced by her
creamy perfection, lightly tinted with a demonically healthy lavender
glow. Her lips blossom beneath mind, her teeth are clean and her
tongue sweet and curling into my mouth.
She stands straighter and her breasts soften and grow and
press against my torn shirt and slime-soaked mounds. Her freed
arms embrace me and her leathery wings snap open and fold around
us both, trapping me against her. I cannot move. The pleasure is too
intense, like an orgasm in my heart that roils through my entire
body. Her tale wraps around me and slithers into the back of my
jeans. I cry out as I feel the spade-shaped tip squirming into the
crack of my ass, pushing lower, and rubbing against my slick
opening.
I try to push back at her, try to scream or deny her my
essence, but I cannot escape her embrace. I cannot even move. I
surrender myself to pleasure. I know I am going to die this way, that
Morgana is going to unwittingly drain me of my life force, but it’s
okay. I saved her and I sacrificed myself so she could live. Maybe
she can save my dad and protect the codex.
I give myself up to the unholy pleasure, shuddering as I feel
myself fading into her warm embrace.
That’s when the incubus wraps a half dozen cock tentacles
around each of my legs and pulls. I am yanked suddenly off my feet
and land painfully on the hard concrete, gasping and shocked by my
sudden escape from death. I look up at Morgana, nude and
resplendent in her demonic glory, and I see the horror on her face.
 “Faith!” She cries, crouching over me. “Faith! Oh, I almost…
almost killed you. I feel your life inside me! You saved me?”
“Yes,” I croak. She lifts me to my feet and holds me up in her
powerful arms. I want to kiss her again. A part of me craves giving
in to what was happening and demanding she finish me off. I’m
drunk on the pleasure of her embrace and she knows enough to
deny me.
“Where are the Inquisitors?”
“Gone,” says the incubus. “The summoner left and it freed me
from my binding spell.”
“I remember you!” Shouts Morgana. “Don’t pretend like you
did not enjoy the things you did to me! You drained my essence! I
should stomp out your black heart.”
“No,” I whisper. “Saved me. He saved me from your… from the
kiss.”
“Oh,” Morgana’s anger fades. “Very well. He can come with us
and help me tear the head off Deacon Morning. What do they call
you, incubus?”
“Matew,” he says. “For short. My full name is—“
“I don’t care,” interrupts Morgana. “We must go, mistress.
They might return and my power is still not at full.”
I resist the urge to offer her more of my essence and nod
gravely.
“My friends are fighting with the other inquisitors, I summoned
a curse demon with help from Runk and…”
My words trail off as I look at the blood smear on the floor
where Runk was blasted to pieces.
“What is it?” Morgana stands beside me and examines the
splotch of blood.
“Runk. Deacon Morning blasted him with a shotgun.”
Another random document with
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It was no use to run, but they ran anyway. This was what Sam meant
when he said he knew what Jim was going to do. Jim Cochran was
completely blackballed in his own profession. As he said, he couldn't
have gotten a job stirring with a wooden paddle in a soap factory.
Tom Banning and his family went with them. They went as far north
as they could and finally stopped running on the edge of the
Canadian wilderness. They pooled their funds and bought some
wheat land and some cattle stock and tried to stop thinking beyond
the end of each day.
They were grateful for the absence of television, but they kept a
radio. Through it, they learned when the Apollo finally took off with its
three-man crew. They followed its two and a half day journey through
space and heard the voice of Captain Allan Wright announce they
were in lunar orbit.
A few hours later the landing capsule was disengaged from the
spaceship and Captain Wright and William Chambers rode it down.
Their voices were heard in exultation as they announced their first
steps on the surface of the moon.
It was night in northern Canada when the landing was made. Jim and
Sam and Tom and their families were outside watching the full moon,
trying to imagine how it was up there. From the house they heard the
radio relaying the voices of the astronauts. The voices were relayed
to earth through the more powerful transmitter of the orbiting Apollo,
but as the spaceship circled the moon the voices of the men on the
surface were lost. Then they returned once more as the ship came
over their horizon.
For five orbits their voices came and went as they described their
sensations and exulted in the first minutes of their achievement.
Then, on the sixth orbit, there were no voices. There was only the
sudden, shrill cry of the third crewman, Don Anderson, who manned
the orbiting ship.
"Allan! Bill! Apollo to capsule: Come in, please. Bill—where are you—
I can't even see your capsule. I'm passing right over the spot. Apollo
to Base: I can't locate the capsule through the telescope. It looks like
a big crevasse right where the capsule was, but it wasn't there before.
Allan—Bill—Come in! Come in!"
Jim heard the sudden sob that shook Mary. He put his arm about her
shoulders and led her into the house.
Don Anderson remained in lunar orbit for two more days. Then he
was ordered home. He landed safely.
There were expressions of national sorrow over the unexplained loss
of the two astronauts, but plans were renewed for the next voyage.
The President said that sacrifices must be expected if this great goal
were to be achieved, and that it would be a betrayal of those who had
already given their lives if the work were to stop now.
In Canada that winter, Jim was sure the wolves howled on cold,
moonlit nights more than ever before. And something new was
happening to the moon. The silver light was taking on a faint tint of
orange. The radio told of a very learned report by some astronomer
who spoke obscurely of changes in albedo and percentages of
atmospheric dust and angstroms of sunlight. Any fool could see the
moon was changing color.
Jim listened to the wolves howling in the forest, and he thought of
Cramer's Pond when he was a boy, and of a machine tumbling into a
crevasse where a terrible darkness lay, and he wondered how long it
would be.
THE END
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