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The Demon Ch. 01

By: metis_amarant



You had to know the shop to find it. Not just know the name, or the address, but really know the store by the touch of magic in your soul. Without the grace of magic, the storefront would appear to be nothing but dusty windows and moldering boards. To me, and others like me, it was a worn looking but occupied little store front whose wares were displayed behind windows that fair scintillated with the spells to keep them hidden. 

As I entered, seeming to any mundane observers to turn down the alley next to the shop, a bell tinkled and I was greeted with the scent of linseed oil and dried blood. 

"Shyla!" the young girl behind the counter greeted me. "It's been weeks! Why haven't I seen you around more often lately?"

"You know how it goes sometimes Leigh," I replied noncommittally. "I've been busy is all."

"Well what can I help you with today Miss Busy?" she asked, rather tartly. Leigh looked all of fifteen, but I knew her to be much closer to 30 than 20. She was skinny, too skinny really, her small bones nearly poking through her fair skin. Today her hair was blue, cut close to her head and unkempt. It was different every time I came in, one of her charms. I smiled at her affronted, pouting face, knowing it for a fake. 

"I just wrapped up my busy-ness actually, and I'm here to browse and see what you and your partner have gotten in since I last visited."

"Oh! Excellent!" Leigh hopped up and down in excitement for a few beats before swinging her legs over the counter and leaping into my arms for a hug. I caught her slight frame easily and returned her enthusiastic greeting with interest. I've known Leigh for most of my life, and she has always been a good friend, even when our respective jobs have separated us. 

I released her and she landed lightly on her feet. She took my hand and led me into the back room of the shop. There are levels and levels of customers that visit the shop. You need only to be able to perceive it to purchase what you will from the front, but to gain entry into the back rooms takes a considerable amount of trust earned over time. Or so I heard from those that needed to earn the privilege. I had inherited it, as Leigh had inherited the store. 

While the front of the store had a look of a second-hand store, vaguely defined sections with no predictable locations for any given item, the back room was almost painfully neat. Some of the items in the back would not do well to touch certain others, or even be in near proximity. 

"That's new," I said, pointing to a large cabinet of a dark wood taking up a good portion of the back wall. 

"Oh, that, well, if you'd been in more recently then you'd know."

I waited. Leigh just stared at me, grinning. She knew she'd win. Since I knew too I gave in. 

"What is it?"

"It's a cabinet," she said breezily. "Check out this latest batch of gemsolii, isn't it scandalous? Mother would never have been sent such low quality goods."

"What's in the cabinet?" I asked, a bit more sternly. She ignored my tone, expertly scratching at the surface of my temper without broaching it. 

"Just things, you know?" she replied. 

"Leigh."

She pursed her lips and gave me a sour look. 

"You sound like my mother when you say that."

"Leigh!"

"Oh, alright, fine. The cabinet was a gift from Anton. It is specially made to contain certain of the more, shall we say, energetic objects that I've acquired recently." She licked her lips nervously. "There was a small issue a few weeks ago, just after your last visit, and Anton thought it best that he give it to me."

I chuckled. I knew there was so much more to the story than she had just told me, but goodness willing, I'd never find out the rest. 

I browsed the back room, finding nothing that sparked my fancy and catching up with Leigh. We wandered back to the front room and continued to chat as I ran my fingers along merchandise scattered haphazardly on antique tables. Then they caught. 

I looked down, Leigh's words fading to a buzz in the background as my vision narrowed on a small glass bottle. There was a label on it, but it was Leigh's handwriting. 'Body wash- cleansing' it read. There was a viscous liquid inside, shining like liquid soap does with swirls of color. A pale pink, just like you'd expect from a body wash. I picked it up and brought it over to Leigh, who had retreated again behind the counter. 

"Where did you get this?" I asked her. 

"You haven't been listening to me! You are impossible Shyla!"

I leveled a level one glare at her. "Leigh, where did you get this bottle?"

She finally gave it a look where I had set it on the counter. Her brow furrowed on her young looking face, giving her an incongruous air. She reached for it, and turned the label, tied with yarn to the neck, to read her own handwriting. 

"I don't remember this Shyla. I don't remember writing it or acquiring it. Weird. Sarai might have brought it in and asked me to write a label. I probably wouldn't remember it if she caught me distracted." A lascivious grin bloomed on her face, lending it an entirely new kind of incongruity. "You know how good Sarai is at distracting me."

I rolled my eyes. 

"I'm going to buy it."

"If you need cleansing, you know better ways to do it than some random bottle Shyla. Why?" she asked. 

I didn't want to tell her how it had caught at me. There was something wrong with the bottle, a trap. I could feel it, a red haze of danger surrounding the bottle if I cared to look deeply. If I told Leigh about that, then she'd insist on helping me spring it. I didn't want to involve her. I knew I could handle it on my own. 

"Maybe I want to try something new," I replied vaguely. "Besides, I like the bottle. I can always dump the soap and use it for something more appropriate."

"Okay," she said. She was looking at me calculatingly, trying to spot some sort of dissemblance. I projected innocence and acquisitiveness for the bottle. "30 gold pieces."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "I don't want it that much! 10 silver is far more than the bottle is worth."

We haggled. I think if I had agreed to her first offer she wouldn't have sold it to me at all. I knew her well enough to know how to lie to her, especially when it was for her own protection. I left after the bargain was completed, hugging and kissing Leigh goodbye. 

My emergence from the shop was heralded by a tinkling bell, and I appeared to walk out of a dark alley to the homeless man across the street. Or not, I thought, as I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes and waved at an old acquaintance of my mother's. 

When I got home, I had had plenty of time to decide how to go about springing the trap. In the end, I chose to act as if I had no idea what I was in for, and simply spring it by using the bottle as labeled. 

I shucked off my clothing and, naked, made for the bathroom, bottle clutched in my hands. I started the water and waited for it to heat up. Placing the bottle on the edge of the tub, I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was of average height, and average weight. The more magic has graced the soul, the less spectacular is the physical form to behold, my grandmother had always told me. If that were true, then my utter averageness of shape and feature would imply a greatness of magic untold. I knew that I was strong, and well trained, but I held no delusions of being anything special among magic users. My brown hair fell to my shoulders when it wasn't held back in a tail, and my eyes were somewhere between a hazel and a pale brown. There was nothing terribly distinctive about my appearance, but neither was I unattractive. I ran my hands down my sides. I was approaching thirty, but my waist was pleasingly small and my breasts were firm and suited to my frame. 

The mirror began to steam, signaling that the water was ready. I loosened the stopper on the bottle before getting my hands wet. Then I tested the heat of the water with my hand. It was hot, and perfect. I steeled myself for a shock and then subjected my body to the intense heat. For a moment it was too much, especially on my more sensitive parts. Then I relaxed into it, and felt only comforted by the heat pounding onto my body in liquid form. 

I grabbed my loufa from the hook on the wall and then proceeded to try to pour some of the body wash onto it. I failed. 

Instead of a few droplets oozing onto the loufa, the entirety of the bottle somehow whooshed out as soon as it turned vertical above it. The smell was familiar, but I couldn't identify it. I knew scents better than sights, I sometimes thought, but these eluded me. Something sweet, something flowery, something delicious, something heavy and... brimstone. 

Unable to help myself, I began to massage the body wash into the loufa, as if everything were normal. Suds began to form. Without volition, I began to anoint myself with them. First my feet, soapy suds slid over and between each toe before sliding up each calf in turn. I admired the toned form of my calves, a result of a strict regimen of running, as I soaped them and then moved up. I did my thighs, but it seemed right to ignore the juncture between them, sliding instead to my belly. I spent what seemed a long time, rubbing and rubbing the soapy loufa around my small belly. I didn't have a flat stomach, but a womanly and rounded soft tummy, so ripe, though it had not yet borne fruit. Then I slid it up around and between and upon my breasts, the suds bringing a tingling sensation to my nipples. 

There must be some mint in the mix, I thought, or perhaps clove. I washed my arms, my back as best as I could and then, though it wasn't a normal part of my washing routine, I washed my face with the loufa, breathing through a veil of suds for a moment before they slid down my hot wet face. My hair got the treatment as well, and then I slid the loufa down my back to my ass. Both cheeks were lovingly caressed with the bubbles, and then I slid it between my cheeks, where again the tingling began. 

I probably shouldn't put it anywhere else sensitive, I thought. But the thought was hardly formed before I had put it between my legs, rubbing it harshly against my slit and clit. The tingling began there too and I reveled in it. I was abandoned to the sensation, wanton and shameless as I felt pleasure build and build. I wanted an orgasm. I needed penetration. The bottle. 

The stopper was gone. I grabbed the bottle, and thrust the open end into my cunt. That's when I remembered the trap, as my climax claimed me and the spell began to form around me. I wanted to fall down with the pleasure of it; I wanted to run away from the consequences I could feel building as the spell built itself with my energy, my soul. But the spell held me immobile. I felt a swelling in my middle, a bloatedness building inside me as if portending a terrible birth. Brimstone, I thought. No. 

The bubbles refused to be rinsed off my skin even as I remained under the flow of the hot water pouring from the showerhead. A mist began to build in front of me, forming a human shape, taking on a dusky red color as the outline filled with thick muscles and a horned head. 

How the fuck had a demon gotten trapped in a bottle of soap, I asked myself. There was no answer, or none that mattered to me at the moment. Trapped it had been, and it was using me to free itself, because I had arrogantly walked directly into the trap. 

The mist was thickening, the demon taking on a physical form as close to me as if we were embracing. Then, I felt somewhat more closeness. The bottle clattered to the floor of the tub, bouncing but not breaking. And then, before even the face took on features, I felt a hardness inside me. I wanted to panic and flee even more now, but I couldn't. I was trapped until this was done. Trapped with the demon materializing in my arms, and inside me. I could feel it more with each passing moment, the cock of the demon becoming solid inside me, ridged and hard and huge, stretching me inside as it became more and more physical, more of my plane. 

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl inside my mind. There was nothing I could do with magic. All of my power had been subverted by the spell in the bottle. If the spell required more than I had, I would die. If it didn't, I would live to be raped by a demon. I feared death less, but had no choice. 

An eternal moment later, I was staring into the black hole eyes of a dusky red demon as his cock owned me. I wasn't dead, but I had no strength to resist him. I collapsed into him, and he held me up with ease, remaining buried inside me. The water turned off, and he carried me to my own bedroom. 

Soaking wet, he maneuvered us onto my bed, covering me with his body and using his hands to force my eyes to his. 

"You are weak," he said. His voice was deep, and sounded as if it continued into registers I couldn't physically hear. His tongue was forked, and long. Even at a distance to give good eye contact, he licked my face, a slow mocking caress. "You are mine."

"No," I managed say. "No!"

"You have no choice, mortal. You chose this. You wanted this," and he began to pulsate, deep inside me, pulsate and vibrate and fuck. "You want this."

"No."

But the pleasure that had completed his summoning had not left my body, and it began to respond to the monstrous cock buried inside me. 

Involuntarily my body thrust towards him, and he smiled. A vicious and cruel smile, tinged with the pride of ownership, the arrogance of a battle already won. 

I couldn't look away from his eyes. I couldn't stop the building pleasure that would bind me to him. I knew this trick, this trap, and in other circumstances breaking free would have been easy for me. I had the power to break out of a pleasure compulsion, and the skill, but not right now, not drained nearly to the dregs and being taken by the very being that had drank my power. The power in him was mine, it was familiar and it called to me. I yearned to join it inside him, join it in being his more and more the longer I stared in his eyes, the closer I came to another fatal climax. 

I was lost. I had lost. I began to let go, to lose touch with myself and simply ride the pleasure. Then I felt something poking at my ass. Moments of prodding and then a sudden thrust nearly brought me as his tail penetrated my ass. I was filled to capacity, stuffed in both holes by a supernatural creature not limited to mortal constraints. 

Tears fell from my eyes, not because of pain or sorrow at my fall, but because he would not let me orgasm. I could feel him holding me carefully from falling over the edge, even as he rode me on that edge harder than I thought I could bear. 

"Please," I whispered, my blank gaze taking in only his eyes, the eyes of my Master. 

"You see, how you beg for your defilement? So weak. So easy." His pleasure at my capitulation only increased my own pleasure, almost enough that I snuck an orgasm, but not quite. 

Then his tongue extended once again. It caressed my face, my ears, my neck. Then it slid over my lips, parting them with one deft stroke. It wasn't a kiss, but his tongue did caress mine for one moment before thrusting deeply into my throat. As I choked, he forced me to cum. The orgasm felt eternal, penetrated in all three holes by my demon Master, caught in his eyes with my very life controlled by his tongue down my throat. No air. Yes, I thought, with the last part of me that still fought, kill me. Kill me now. 

But he didn't. 

He withdrew, abruptly, simultaneously, leaving me achingly empty and craving to be full again. "You are mine," he repeated. "My Mistress will be pleased with my work of this day."

Mistress? I thought. This wasn't chance. This wasn't random. This trap had been for me. Then I passed out. 

The woman entered Shyla's apartment and went straight to the bedroom. Her bound demon bowed at her entrance. 

"She is yours?"

"Yes Mistress," he replied. "It has been done as you instructed. The girl is as bound to me as I am to you."

"Good work Asmodeus. No less than I expected." Her cruel gaze took in the sight of blood on the bed sheets beneath Shyla with a keen delight. "Bring her to my dungeon, put her in a cell and retire until I summon you again."

"I hear and obey," he replied. 

Sarai watched her demon as he gathered Shyla in his arms and disappeared in a subliminal clap of thunder. Then she cleaned up the mess on the bed and took the bottle from the shower, replacing it with a similar one filled with actual soap. Leigh could suspect nothing if her ultimate plan were to come to fruition.

The Demon Ch. 02



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.




The Demon Ch. 02



A continuous moan pouring from between Leigh's lips didn't cover the wet sounds of her cunt wrapping around the demon dildo. With every thrust of her hips onto the ridges of the dildo, the pleasure built and she came closer to cumming. Closer and closer until her body chose pleasure.

Leigh squirted and squeezed the demon dildo, pulling it farther inside as it absorbed the essential energy of her orgasm, becoming an integral part of the pleasure compulsion. When the orgasm finally released her, Leigh fainted, exhausted and soaked in sweat and cunt juice.

***

I sighed with content as I watched Leigh's body finally expel the object of her recent pleasure. With this additional compulsion, there should be no more issues of Leigh trying to figure out what happened to Shyla. Leigh might spend the next week or so fucking herself, but I didn't have a problem with that. It would ripen her for her next phase.

I would need to stay until Leigh woke up, but I wanted to go home and check on Shyla. Once she regained some strength, I could have some real fun.

I unstrapped Leigh's wrists and used a soft cloth to wipe some of the sweat from her body and face. I also put a towel down on the wet spot she had created, moving her to a drier section. All the little caring things a lover would do; all part of the fiction I had created for Leigh. I wouldn't have to keep it up much longer now.



The Demon Ch. 03



The raw ache throbbing between my legs woke me up. It took me a few moments to open my eyes. I didn't want to. I remembered what had caused the ache. Remembered it and longed to feel it again even as I loathed myself for the longing. When I finally opened my eyes, I wished that I hadn't. 

Someone had a taste for clichés. I was in a cell. It practically screamed 'dungeon.' The walls, floor and ceiling were all made of stone. Dark, dank, large cut blocks of stone. The door was made of a dark, heavy-looking wood. There were dark metal bars recessed into the door at eye level, backed by a, presumably hinged, matching piece of dark wood. I could just discern from where I lay a slot by the base where food, probably gruel, could be slid in. I could see all this from light filtering in through a high, and barred, window. The light flickered like firelight. I was willing to bet good money that the 'window' was nothing more than an alcove with a torch. It wouldn't do, after all, to have an actual avenue of escape available. 

I was on a rough straw tick mattress, of course. Ignoring the pain of aching muscles, I levered myself onto my elbows to look into the opposite corner of my cell. Naturally, a sunken privy hole. I began to laugh, despite the soreness. I was in the most stereotypical cell imaginable. How could I not laugh?

My amusement faded when my laughter caused cramps deep inside. I put my hands on my abdomen and sought a picture of the damage. Vaginal tearing and bruising was the worst of it physically. I could easily heal it, if I had the strength, but it was too soon after the Demon's trap. I didn't have the strength to control the energy I would require to heal myself. All I could do was rest and wait and hope that my strength would return. 

Patience was not my virtue, but I had nothing else to do. I tried to meditate in order to lessen my awareness of the pain. It passed the time. 

A series of thuds alerted me to the door opening. It creaked. Of course. 

"You know, you can fix that with some WD-40. It's not that difficult. Don't you know that your dungeon will fall apart if you don't take proper care of it?" I spoke before I had seen anyone enter, almost more for the sake of hearing my own voice than anything else. Then I saw Sarai, and my bravado dissolved. 

"So sorry that my dungeon doesn't please you Shyla. Maybe I should get Leigh to do some decorating. Would you like that?"

I was on my feet despite the pain, running on adrenaline for the moment. "Stay away from Leigh!"

My emotions were in overdrive, leaking magic into my words without my conscious knowledge or intent. Sarai was physically pushed back from me, but I could feel my energy level fall. I had to stay in control or I'd pass out again. 

"There's nothing you can do Shyla," Sarai sneered. "Soon, Leigh won't even remember you. You'll rot here as long as I care to keep you alive."

"Why?" I asked. She laughed. 

"Oh, no, I think not. You'll not get my master plan so easily Shyla. The only thing I'm going to give you is pain."

Her eyes heated with lust as she spoke. She stepped in close to me. I waited, hoping she would get close enough that I could give her some pain, but I had forgotten the Demon. 

"Hold her," she said. 

I couldn't move. I saw the Demon, my Master, standing behind Sarai. He held me with the energy with which I was bound and I tried not to despair as Sarai began to touch me. 

Her hands slid over my skin, a mockery of a lover's caress. She tweaked my nipples playfully, grinning at the loathing in my eyes. Then, casually, she slapped my face twice in quick succession. My eyes filled with tears at the sharp pain, and before I could recover my composure she stuck two fingers in my cunt. Her fingernails were sharp and the fast motion loosened scabs and elicited a scream from my throat. 

"See," she whispered. "There's nothing you can do." She then turned to the Demon. "Either of you."

I was still held in place as she backed away, smiling at my pain contorted visage. 

"Let her go after I leave, and retire until I call you again," she said to the Demon. 

"I hear and obey Mistress," He responded, bowing. 

Once Sarai had re-bolted the door to my cell, my bonds dissolved, allowing me to collapse to my pallet. The Demon disappeared, and I was alone with my thoughts again, though in significantly more pain. 

I had to warn Leigh about what she had been letting into her bed and into her heart. But how?

I began to cry. It was all too much. I had been raped by a Demon, Who now had ultimate control over me. My best friend was sleeping with the woman who had forced the Demon to take me. I was trapped beyond hope of rescue. In time, I cried myself to sleep. And I dreamed. 

In the dream, there was no pain. I reclined on a red velvet couch, no longer naked, but clothed in a red satin nightgown. I couldn't tell where I was, just a room, well-lit. I wondered what I was doing there. Then a man walked into the room and sat on the opposite side of the couch from me. He wore jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and his dark brown hair was long, at least shoulder length, and concealed the rest of his face from my sight as he sat in profile to me. 

"I need your help, Shyla," he said to me in a deep voice. "I think you need mine too."

"Why?" I asked, having nothing better to say. 

"Leigh is in graver danger than you know. Sarai will never tell you, but neither has she forbidden me from doing so, at least not here, and like this." He turned now to face me, and I could see that his eyes glowed red. I squeezed my body as close as I could to my end of the couch and away from the Demon. 

"Go away," I said weakly, knowing I couldn't force Him to do anything. 

"Shyla," He said sharply. "Listen to me. I know that you don't like what I did to you, but I am as bound as you are. I did not choose this. Help me gain my freedom from Mistress and I will be able to release you. You might even be able to save Leigh from a fate worse than death, but you need to pay attention."

I looked at Him. He was facing me now, His torso turned while His legs remained forward. He looked relaxed. One arm was reaching towards me over the back of the couch. Maybe this was just a dream, but if it wasn't this could be the only chance I had to do anything about my situation. 

"Tell me what Sarai is planning to do to Leigh, and I will consider Your offer. Wait. Why don't You just command me to do what You want?" I asked him. 

"Shyla, you know better. Think. I have bound your body using your energies, but I cannot take your mind or soul by such simple means. Here, in this dream to which I have called you, I cannot command you for the simple reason that you are not physically here." He gave me a condescending smile. I wanted to slap it off His face. I moved towards Him, and He simply looked at me. I slapped Him. 

My hand hit the couch. I growled at Him and moved back to my corner. 

"Fine. Then tell me the plan."

"You know that there are levels to the shop which Leigh owns which are not meant to be penetrated, by anyone, for any reason, yes?" He asked. I nodded. I knew as much about the shop as anyone not of Leigh's lineage could. 

"Only Leigh, or someone of her bloodline, can access those rooms, or allow anyone else access. It is a deep trust that has been placed upon them, and one that comes with certain protections. Killing Leigh would not allow anyone else entrance, for example. That would be a worthless endeavor. What Sarai plans is to steal Leigh's bloodline."

I laughed. 

"That's impossible. You can't steal someone's bloodline. It's absurd."

"To do so, one would need several difficult to obtain ingredients Shyla. One of them is a powerful demon, which Sarai already has. She has also created an emotional and physical bond with Leigh, another key ingredient. In fact, the main issue Sarai had was you. In order to take Leigh's bloodline upon herself, she needs to be the only emotional bond that Leigh has. As long as you were in the picture, Leigh would retain her bond to you."

"Sarai's going to kill her," I said flatly. 

"The ritual will end with Leigh's physical death, yes, but her soul will be bound to Sarai. Leigh's death will only be the beginning of her torment."

"If I free You from Sarai, then she won't be able to complete the ritual?" I looked at Him, trying to read in His glowing red eyes whether He told truth or not. 

"Without a demon, she cannot strip Leigh's bloodline," He said. 

Fuck. I believed Him. 

"How-" I began, when the dream faded. 

I woke up, still in my clichéd cell. There were more thuds at the door, but it didn't open. Instead, the food slot opened, and a tray was pushed inside timidly. As the slot began to close, I acted out of instinct. 

"Wait," I said, my voice still clogged with sleep. The slot hesitated mid-closure before being hurriedly shut and thuddingly re-bolted. So much for that idea. 

I got up and grabbed the tray, taking it back to my itchy pallet. One bowl of gruel, how I hated being right, and a larger vessel filled with water. There was no point in Sarai poisoning me, but I still tried to use my magic to check for contaminants. I had just enough energy to do it, and that pleased me, a minor victory. 

It was clean, though tasteless. The gruel as icy cold, and the water was fustily warm. I considered to myself that Sarai had devoted far too much time and effort into her cliché. Why? She didn't care to follow it to the letter, or she would have bragged to me about her evil plot to herself. Why then the uber-clichéd dungeon? 

Having eaten my gruel and drunk some of the water, I laid back on my pallet. I needed to dream again. I began to meditate, trying not to force it, but also hoping the Demon would call me back. 

He did. 

"You needed the food," He said to me from His end of the couch. I narrowed my eyes at Him. He sounded almost compassionate. 

"How can I help You?" I asked, as I had been meaning to before He had thrust me out of the dream. 

"Sarai has done a very thorough binding on me. I cannot break it without outside assistance. However, for whatever reason, she has neglected to forbid me strictly enough to prevent me from enlisting your aid Shyla." He shook His head, a baffled little gesture that made Him seem more human than demon to me. "She is curiously blind in some ways, following her tunnel vision to the only conclusion she allows herself to see.

"What I need from you, Shyla, is simple, though I fear it will be difficult for you. One thrust of power at a vulnerable place in the web she has woven about my powers, from the outside, will weaken the structure enough for me to break it. The difficult part is that you will have to touch me, physically, willingly and intimately."

His head had been down as He spoke, but with that last word He looked up and caught my eyes. Despite the red glow, I could see He was in pain at His entrapment, no less than I was. I tried to harden my heart against His pain. I couldn't exactly afford sympathy for the Demon, no matter His pain. He had raped me, trapped me. He had done it, not Sarai, though it was at her command. Or so He said. 

"Where is the vulnerable place?" I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible, as if I were asking where to find eggs in a grocery store. 

His body language grew agitated. His muscles tensed and He ran His hands down His legs before turning to face me again and then dropping His eyes. 

"Where's the last place you would want to touch me Shyla?" He asked, defeat coloring the trace of hope in His voice. 

"No," I said. "No, no, no, no... You can't be fucking serious!" I yelled. I jumped off the couch and tried to run away. It was too much for me to handle or think about; I just wanted to get away. 

But the misty edges of the room wouldn't let me. I turned to the Demon, fire in my eyes. 

"Let. Me. Out. Of. Here," I told Him. He eyed me coolly. 

"As you wish," he replied, his voice tight. 

I woke up in my cell. My body still ached with the pain of His penetration, and I curled up and hugged myself. I tried to control myself. If what He had said was true, if I weren't just hallucinating the dreams... I had to save Leigh. What was a moment of emotional pain and disgusting physical intimacy to her life and her soul? 

I began to cry. How could I have been so stupid as to be caught by Sarai's trap? What had possessed me to just spring the trap as if I were invincible? Because of my hubris, I was confined in a cell, recovering from a rape, while my soul-sister unknowingly took a dangerous woman into her bed and her heart. 

This was my fault. I had to fix it. 

First, I wanted to consider my options. Sure, the Demon was offering an alliance, and that might be the best thing for me, but I didn't want to just accept it. I had no way of knowing if it weren't just another piece of Sarai's plot, for Him to gain my trust and prevent me from exploring actual avenues of stopping her. In fact, I couldn't even trust that He was telling me the truth about her plans. For all I knew, she had what she wanted in capturing me and wasn't planning anything for Leigh. 

I was resolved. I wiped my eyes and nose and sat up on my pallet. I let myself fall into a light trance state and looked around my cell through eyes attuned to arcane energy. I was shocked at the lack I saw. 

My tendency would have been to reinforce each wall with a magical ward that would prevent escape, if I were the type to hold captives in such a manner. Sarai either didn't have energy to spare on such measures or was totally confident in the ability of stone and wood to keep me confined. Again, I was struck by how the entire set-up felt like a bad joke. 

Using my hands to examine the stone walls of my cell with physical and magical senses, I determined that Sarai had good reason to believe that these walls would confine me. I couldn't determine how thick the stone walls were, because my energy was too low to push through past six feet. The high ceiling was out as an escape route, and I was just able to sense that the barred window through which firelight seemed to shine was a dead end, as I had suspected. 

Next I examined the door. It was cool under my fingers, and hard as stone. Not as thick as the walls, but still a substantial barrier. There was no way to open the door from the inside, no latch that I could see or sense. I closed my eyes, trying to see what secured the door through the pitted wood. A bar of iron, simple and effective prevented the door from turning on its hinges. 

Given time, I might be able to enlist the silent person who had brought me food, but if the Demon were telling the truth, I didn't have the time that would take. I had been captured before and imprisoned, and I knew that time was my ally, waiting, watching, and learning before striking. I needed to know what was really happening with Leigh. Unfortunately my only conduit of fast information was unreliable and repugnant. 

I kicked the door in frustration, regretting it immediately when my toes began to add pain signals to my already stressed body. I examined the privy hole for escape possibilities, but it, too, was lined in thick stone. I emptied my bladder into it before going back to the pallet. 

I had to know what was happening to Leigh. I began to meditate, calling out to the Demon, asking for another dream. He granted it to me. 

"I don't trust you," I told Him. "I can't."

"But?" He prompted when I allowed the silence to stretch between us. "You are here. You called me."

"You lied to me," I accused Him, changing the subject abruptly. "If the bonds that You put on me were only physical, then I wouldn't be forced to think of You as Master. But I am. You have bound my mind as well and You lied about it. Why?"

He looked at me, perplexed, even aghast. He closed His eyes, and I recognized that He was using a light trance to trace energies as I had in my cell earlier. He opened His eyes shortly and began to shake His head. 

"I did not intend this Shyla. The only explanation I can offer is that I must have been overcome by pleasure when I was binding you, leading to a deeper bond that was required or meant. Since this was not mandated by Sarai, I can release it. To prove to you my sincere intentions of helping you help me, I shall."

Even in the dream world, my body reacted when He spoke of the binding. I felt disgust as I felt myself grow wet remembering His huge cock stretching me beyond myself. Yes it hurt, but it had also felt so good. Even if it was only the magic of the spell, still it was pleasure that my body remembered with an intensity that scared me. 

He closed His eyes again, and I fell out of the dream. 

Back in my cell, my aching body continued to express arousal even as my mind reeled. Maybe I could believe Him if He did as He said and released my mind. I lay on my pallet, waiting for Him to finish and then take me back to the dream. The aches receded from my awareness on a wave of sexual pleasure. My torn body became moist and my hips began to thrust unconsciously, filled with desire for penetration despite how painful that would be. 

The pain didn't matter, only the pleasure overtaking my sense and my senses. The pleasure built until my every nerve was alight with it. The orgasm was merely the highest point of pleasure, flowing over me in a gentle wave, cresting and engulfing my mind in blackness. 

I looked at the demon sitting on the other side of the couch in the misty-edged dream world. I no longer felt the mental chains that had so angered me. He was no master to me. And he was the only hope that I had to escape in a timely fashion. Now I had to find out what was happening to Leigh. 

"Thank you," I said. "Can you tell me what is happening to Leigh?"

"I can do better than that," he replied. He gestured at the mist in front of the couch. It parted like a theater curtain, giving us a view of Leigh's apartment above the shop. Leigh was pacing and drenched in sweat. 

"I need to find Shyla. I need. I need to. Shyla. What happened to Shyla? Sarai did something. Did Sarai do something? I need to find Shyla. She'll know what to do. Sarai will know."

Agitation was writ in every line of her body. Her voice was strained and raw. Tears began to fall down my face, but I didn't let myself break down. I had to see this. I had to determine if it was real. As if we were watching a movie, our view followed Leigh as she paced from the kitchen into the bedroom. 

Everything that I saw looked authentic. I could see the cobwebs in the corners and on the ceiling. Leigh never dusted her apartment unless someone made her. The books that she walked by, the knick-knacks on the side table, everything was as familiar to me as my own apartment. 

In the bedroom, Leigh continued to pace and talk to herself. 

"Where could Shyla have gone? Why was the bottle different? I know it was different in Shyla's apartment than in the shop. I went there. Where did I go? Shyla's. I need to find her."

Leigh stopped beside her nightstand and hugged herself fiercely for a moment before falling to the bed and reaching blindly for an object on the nightstand. She tore off her pants and panties mechanically before beginning to tease herself with what I saw was a giant dildo. 

She rubbed it up and down her slit, gathering juices that caused it to glisten. Turning it in her hand, she used the tip to rub the root of her clit, shuddering through a quick orgasm that nonetheless caused her to squirt. Leigh was moaning, but her eyes remained closed, and her motions seemed automatic, or possessed. 

She began to press the dildo inside herself, letting out a long low moan as it penetrated. A slow slide brought it halfway inside her. Then she began to fuck herself. 




The Demon Ch. 03



Her skinny arm was nearly a blur as she thrust it hard and again and again. I thought that it had to be hurting her, but the only sounds she made were of pleasure until she began to speak in a monotone. 

"I will forget Shyla more and more with every orgasm. Forgetting Shyla brings me pleasure. I need the pleasure of forgetting Shyla. I must cum and forget her."

She repeated that and a few variations before succumbing to a massive orgasm and passing out. The mist reclaimed the wall, and I turned my attention back to the demon, wiping the tears from my cheeks. 

"Say that I believe you, that I believe what you've just shown me is real. In that case, what would you have me do?" I asked him. 

"When Sarai summons me to control you, I would ask that you prepare a small, hidden, bolt of energy and use it to break her binds on me. I have thought long and hard about this Shyla, and the only way to conceal the energy bolt from Sarai is in your mouth. The only place where her binds are weak enough on me to break with what strength you have available to you is my cock. Knowing Sarai, it will not be difficult to convince her that having you suck my cock would be more painful than any physical torment she could inflict. Once you break the binds, I will take care of Sarai, and you can go provide succor to Leigh."

I could see the sneering anger in his face when he spoke of 'taking care' of Sarai. I did not envy her, having experienced what he could do to a woman. But my body did. My damned body twitched again at the thought of what he could do. I ignored it, suppressed it. 

"Is there enough time? When will Sarai even come visit me next?"

"Sarai has some curious quirks that I have observed in the months of my captivity Shyla. I believe she will be unable to resist visiting you again and again, every day." He shrugged. He knew more than he was telling me. But did it matter?

I decided that for now, it didn't. 

"Do you know where this dungeon is in relation to the shop?" I asked. I would need to get to Leigh as soon as possible to try and counteract what Sarai had done to her before it was too late. 

"It isn't far," he replied. "Do you know the abandoned factory on 14th and State?"

"Yes, I know the area. I'd appreciate it if you can give me Sarai's car keys before you take care of her."

"I can do that." He smiled at me. Despite his red eyes, I found myself smiling back. We had a plan.