Lure of Desire
Copyright© 2026 by Voloken
Chapter 4
“Gone as in GONE,” Camilla said as she checked her phone. “Left, disappeared.”
“Interesting,” I said as I looked back down to the laptop. Had to look unfazed.
I could feel the demoness’ presence. I was a hundred percent sure that this was what she’d been laughing about last night. She’d noticed Alyssa’s escape and had decided to allow it. Now she was all giggly about it, quietly enjoying my dismay.
“So, like, are we going to ... do something about that or...?” Camilla wasn’t putting on an act. She really didn’t seem to care one way or the other. After a good night’s sleep and my blunder, she was a lot less worried about me. That had to be corrected.
“No. This is fine, so long as she doesn’t get herself killed.” This was about as not fine as could be, and just as unexpected. The curse should prevent her from freely using her essence, but I didn’t really think she was the sort to muster the courage to bolt after the scare I gave her. That was a massive misread on my part.
Raven looked apprehensive. She might seem the most inoffensive of the three, but if I was right, she’d be ruthless over any perceived mistake. Her devotion was ephemeral, and her loyalty never a sure thing. She was ever a fair-weather friend, and I couldn’t let her notice the boat rocking.
“So, this shopping mall you were talking about,” I said, pointing at the screen. “How far is it from here?”
“Uhm ... about thirty minutes by car,” Raven said.
“Do we have one of those?”
“Yeah,” Camilla responded. “I guess I can drive.”
“Good. Though I think I can drive as well.” I could, but I wasn’t sure how common it was for a demon in a borrowed body to know how to drive, so I hedged.
“We’re not risking my car on ‘I think.’” Camilla rolled her eyes. “If we go now, we can have a late lunch there and then walk around. I’ll show you my favorite stores. If the dead guy has as much money as you say, we’re golden for buying whatever.”
I had seen Camilla’s eyes widen when I mentioned how much money I—or should I say, dearly departed Damien—had in his bank. I was a frugal man, and in hiding, so it wasn’t like I could show off too much. Most of my money was taken by the feds, but I managed to stash a good amount under a less traceable fake name.
Actually, I was fairly sure Damien was a real person before I stole his identity. Isobel always did top-notch work, and I’d paid her enough not to skimp ... Should I contact Isobel? If I was getting back in the business, an expert of her caliber would be invaluable.
“He does,” I said as I returned my attention to Camilla. I’d ‘checked’ my account when Camilla brought me my phone and suggested I make sure I wasn’t reported missing. “Or rather, did. Now we do.”
She was a well-to-do kind of girl, but keeping this house probably ate into her inheritance like a cat five minutes after its last feeding. Even as a high-class escort, she probably couldn’t cover it plus her other living expenses. The question of how the hell she’d even become an escort in the first place was an interesting one, but not one I should ask yet, I didn’t think. Best let it lie for now.
Regardless of that, her current lifestyle didn’t match the one she expected to live. If I managed to bring in money, she’d think twice about letting go of me. Dealing with Camilla was all about leading her on, so her greed served me as well as her pride.
“Our first order of business is upgrading Raven’s wardrobe.” I stood and walked over to my little moth, embracing her from behind. “Three or four dresses will do. A couple for now, and a couple ... aspirational. Plus accessories, of course.”
All apprehension fell away from Raven’s demeanor as I reminded her of all the pretty clothes she’d soon own. Moving forward was key to dealing with her. She hated the past.
As should we all, the demoness chimed in. The past is another country, and everyone hates foreigners.
“A pig in a dress is still a pig,” Camilla spat, still stung after having been made to compete with Raven for my attention, even if I’d reassured her. “You should buy me clothes. I’ll put them to much better use.”
Raven didn’t retaliate with words, but her glare said it all. There was little love between them now, even though a mere day and some change ago Raven had been following Camilla around like a lost puppy.
“Now girls, you can fight later,” I said, sliding a hand under Raven’s shirt, but leaving it on her belly. She shuddered and Camilla glared at me. “You’ll be getting a reward if you’re helpful, little lamp, don’t forget. You have less need, but I am more than willing to feed your bottomless desire, should you prove deserving.”
Camilla huffed but made her way to the garage without further complaints or barbs. I took Raven’s hand, a gesture which had her beaming, and led her along. We spent the entire ride to the mall talking about the stores we’d be hitting up. Raven was excited, and Camilla hadn’t put any damper on it, instead focusing on her carrot.
Well, the two of them talked while I gave the odd opinion. Now that the immediate fallout of yesterday was put aside, my mind was mostly occupied with Alyssa. How had I fucked up so badly? I knew she was skittish, but between the curse and how scared she’d been ... I refused to believe I’d fucked up that much. Something had changed. Something had to have changed. But what? It had barely been a day, and she’d been knocked out in her room. I had her phone, though she stole it on her way out. What could possibly have changed?
It is adorable that you won’t even give consideration to the possibility that you are wrong, the demoness said with the lightness of a giggle.
Do you really think I was?
I think... The demoness’ presence lay heavy on me now. I could almost feel her arms wrapped around me. ... that you’re thinking in too few dimensions, little jackal. There are more doors in my country than yours, and there are many Paths to travel too. It is not unusual to meet other travelers there.
So you’re saying she got help from ... her dreams?
Something like that.
And you’re suddenly being helpful why?
Why indeed? She chuckled. Think on that. Nothing is truly free, after all.
The coffee shop was busy, but not so busy Alyssa might be kicked out for loitering as long as she was buying. Still, she’d already picked out a few motels, just in case. None in truly hidden places, but she really didn’t want to sleep under a bush in the park again. Hiding out in the slums or the projects was similarly out of the question. Too dangerous without her magic.
The first thing she’d done was raid one of her stashes—a maintenance closet in a dilapidated primary school. Beneath a loose tile on the floor, she recovered a backpack with some more money, a snub-nosed revolver, and an encrypted list. Phone numbers for a few doctors she could trust to take a bribe for some under-the-table prescriptions.
Her memories of the past couple of days had returned in full once she’d managed to sit down and think for a moment, and now she needed to figure out her next steps. The demon was certainly after her, and Camilla would certainly help it, so she was in grave danger. There was also whatever it had done to her ... that ritual or curse or whatever. If it could use the curse to find her, then ... well, then all was lost, so it didn’t even bear thinking about.
She’d already bought some incense and candles to burn overnight. It was no true ritual, but a relaxation aid was all she needed to reach the Crosspaths. Once there, she could find help with the curse. Someone should know something, but as for payment...
She’d only ever exchanged rumors with fellow travelers. For something like this, she’d need to offer knowledge in return. Probably something more valuable, too, since the lore she wanted was so specific. She needed to visit the book dealer sooner or later ... Sophie’s was open on Sundays, the website had said.
Going to a place like that alone, with no magic and only a measly gun for protection, felt ... unwise. But Alyssa saw no other choice. She was surprised at herself for going this route. She never thought ... never thought she’d do something so brave as fight a demon.
She felt like ... a hero from the stories her father had read to her as a child. Maybe she wasn’t a good person, but heroes weren’t supposed to be good; they were supposed to be great. The heroes of old were her true idols, not the drivel that was sold to the cattle nowadays.
She’d almost forgotten ... She’d been so focused on her ... her ‘peers’. Their biting words and brainless attitudes. She wanted to show them ... but that was stupid. They were stupid. She’d almost forgotten that she had much more important to measure up to.
Alyssa alone was the chosen one. She didn’t have forever to keep reaching. To run forever after some unachievable goal. No, she must grasp and hold. She already knew she was better. What she lacked was a great deed of her own. Gilgamesh defeated the Bull of Heaven. Sargon founded the first empire. Alexander conquered the world. Caesar mastered Rome.
She had to do something truly impressive. Of a magnitude that could not be denied. That was what it meant to be a hero. And the first step was to kill a demon. An appropriate start for a legend. And then? Well ... not even the sky could limit her. And if it tried, she would burn it.
Camilla and I sat side by side as Raven modeled her latest choice in fashion. This was the last one that had caught any of our eyes in this store.
“I like the yellow one,” Raven said. “It’s bright and summery.”
The sundress was quite pretty. I wasn’t much of a fashionista myself, but Camilla seemed to be taking it seriously, so I figured the end result would be at least decent. The fact that she’d toned down the barbs to the odd muttered slur or demur while Raven was away changing did wonders for group cohesion.
“It’s good,” Camilla said with a serious nod. “This sort of dress accentuates innocence and naivety since you’re so—your frame is so slight.” She quickly glanced at me then back at Raven. “Mustard looks ... fine on you. But your skin tone is very cool. Muted, soft reds, blues and the odd aquamarine bring out your ... best features.”
“You did look quite fetching in the light purple one,” I said, nodding along with Camilla.
“Lavender,” Camilla corrected perhaps a bit too sharply, then looked away, sheepish.
“Lavender, yes.” I shot a wry smile at Camilla, who seemed less than amused.
Raven looked a bit discouraged. It seemed like she wasn’t a fan of our choice. Made sense, all things considered. Her dislike of what was, and her longing for what she thought should be, showed in everything she did.
“We’ll get both,” I decided. “Go tell the clerk we’re ready to check out. And keep that dress on for now.”
Raven’s face lit up as she flitted away with my card to get everything squared away.
I figured the bank might intervene and block my card at any moment for unusual spending, which would be annoying, but necessary. I wondered if I could call them beforehand so they wouldn’t block it. Did anyone do that? Which would be more suspicious? Probably calling ahead. I’d just roll the dice on it.
“I wonder why I’m here if you won’t listen to me,” Camilla complained. It hadn’t been the first time I’d granted Raven’s less-than-educated wishes, so Camilla was feeling a bit ignored, even though this time we got both.
“I am listening to you, little lamp,” I soothed her, snaking an arm over her shoulders. “Your knowledge is fundamental to my decision-making. You merely do not understand my design. If you wish to feel more appropriately appreciated, know that you are indeed close to your reward. Just keep going as you have been and think well on what wish you’d have from me.”
She muttered something under her breath but looked satisfied, if her slight smile was anything to go by. It seemed like Camilla loved gifts of all kinds. I should’ve figured. he was just the type to stay her wrath when given offerings.
Before she could say more, there was a commotion at the register. Raven was berating another poor cashier. This trip had been elucidating when it came to her behavior. She hated mistakes of all kinds. She thought them unacceptable and she wasn’t shy about pointing them out when she could.
Her requests were often worded confusingly, and as such were easy to get wrong or misunderstand. Even asking for clarification was enough to displease Raven, which was the mistake the last cashier had made.
A curious sort, my little moth. So painfully aware of hierarchy and her place in it, yet tyrannical given half an opportunity. She certainly expected no quarter if she made a mistake herself, but conveniently, nothing was ever her fault
We are all of us masters and slaves, little jackal. One ought to act as one’s current company dictates.
So you too are a slave, demon?
Of course. As are you, little jackal.
And is your master my master too?
Only in practice. I could almost see her sharp smile out of the corner of my eye.
“Should we go help?” Camilla asked. She looked exasperated. “Last time, it was twenty minutes before we could leave what should’ve been a five-minute interaction. Raven is such a fucking drama queen. She should just call the manager and threaten the wagie’s employment.”
“I suppose we should.” I got up and led Camilla over to a screaming Raven.
From the street, the bookstore looked ... normal. The entrance was a small nook between an office supply store and a Starbucks on the corner. A paper sign taped to the inside of the glass on the metal door, reading ‘Sophie’s Books and Antiques,’ was all that marked it as anything other than the entrance to a residential apartment.
It was as generic a name as one could possibly come up with, and so subtly advertised that one would think its mysterious owner was deliberately trying to ward off potential customers. Alyssa hadn’t seen a single person go in during her five-hour stakeout from the roof of a nearby building, whose fire escape she’d checked weeks earlier to make sure she could reach it.
Alyssa felt she should wait and watch the bookstore for at least one night, but at the same time she was restless. There was an energy inside her, unlike anything she’d felt before, that wanted to burst outward and seize the initiative.
She’d spent so long thinking, and now all she wanted was to act. The brush with the demon had awakened something in her. It had been her first push toward greatness, and now she didn’t want to lose the momentum.
A hero wouldn’t hesitate. A hero would charge in and conquer any challenge. Five hours of observation were more than enough to show that there couldn’t be many people inside. Probably just the owner. And even if she had some manner of magic, Alyssa had a gun. She might not be able to kill the owner outright, but even Raven couldn’t tank a bullet unscathed.
Decision made, Alyssa briefly toyed with jumping off the parapet to reach the shop faster. It was just excess excitement and anxiety, though, and she was five stories up. Her wings were clipped by the demon’s curse, but one day...
Alyssa left the rooftop, made sure she didn’t look disheveled from being out in the wind for so long, and calmly made her way to the store. The door opened easily and rang a bell as she came in.
Frowning at the noise, Alyssa analyzed her surroundings. She stood at the end of a short corridor that led to a switchback staircase. The floor looked like linoleum, and the windowless walls were a drab beige. The only light, other than the red evening sun leaking through the door’s glass, came from a weak incandescent bulb dangling from a precarious wire. There was a paper sign taped to a wall. It was just an arrow pointing up to the first landing of the staircase.
It was creepier than the outside made it look, but Alyssa was committed. Step by step, she climbed, but the first door appeared only on the third and last landing. The first two held no paths but up and down, and no windows. Each was lit like the ground floor, with a single incandescent bulb.
The door at the third landing was dark wood, clearly thick and heavy. Carved at eye level was an elaborate rendition of the store’s name. The ‘i’ in ‘Sophie’ was dotted with a little heart. The knob was big and old-looking. Brass, maybe, and shaped like a ... a bird’s talon grabbing an ... orange? Some kind of roundish fruit. Maybe an apple.
By the door was one last paper sign. It read, in large, bold print: ‘Enter at your pleasure: Sophie is always expecting guests.’
Alyssa dry-swallowed. Then she slapped both hands onto her cheeks. A hero does not hesitate. Hesitation is defeat. She placed a hand on the knob and turned. She eased the door open and peeked inside.
After we managed to pull Raven away and properly exit the situation, we ended up at a purse store. I had no idea those things were so damn expensive. What sort of insane prices were these? Camilla assured me that she’d picked one of the cheaper stores, since we didn’t want to waste that much money. I’d thought she was just being penny-pinching, but God, was I wrong.
Luckily, Camilla didn’t want anything from this place. Even so, we left much poorer, though with a nice, expensive bag for Raven. It was beige and dark red with metallic gold accents. I didn’t want to think about how much it cost ever again.
We stopped by the food court again for dinner, since it was already dark. We’d spent the last god only knew how long walking around the mall, hitting clothing stores. Raven a full wardrobe now, which included several dresses as well as more stylish practical clothing.
There was just one more thing to do before we moved on to the next step, but that would have to wait. I needed outside help for that part, and it was getting dark. That was enough for today.
“You’ve done very well, little lamp,” I said as Camilla picked at her Caesar salad. Raven had chosen a large burger that would look too big for her to anyone unaware of her eating habits. It was frankly strange that she was so thin, given how much she ate. “You’ve earned a reward. What is your wish?”
Camilla slowly put down her fork, licking her lips clean of sauce. Raven stared, clearly interested.
“I want ... the Knife.” She looked at me, stone-faced.
The Knife ... the ritual dagger she’d stabbed me with. The one I’d berated her about taking. An interesting choice. I figured she’d want me to buy her something, but ... Well, this was easy enough to grant. But did I want to?
Did she expect me to say no? And perhaps press for something else I otherwise might balk at? Or did she expect me to accept, and stood to gain more from it than I realized? Did she want to see if I hesitated? I had, if so. I had yet to answer. What did that tell her? What could I tell her instead? And how?
Many questions, and only one way to attain answers... the demoness teased. You’re running awfully low. Perhaps lending the little crow a third of your power only to let her slip away was a foolish choice?
“And? What else?” I eventually asked as though I’d been waiting for her to continue. “Such a paltry gift would not be enough to display my gratitude, obviously. It is yours, but what else do you desire?”
The dagger meant little enough to me, in truth, and a magnanimous act spoke of power and control. I’d examined it, but unless I wanted to pay a price I couldn’t afford right now, its secrets were locked away. Whatever she wanted it for, I had to make it look like I didn’t consider it worth caring about. Maybe it really was her emotional support knife, who knew?
For a half-second after I’d said my piece, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the look quickly gave way to a thankful smile.
“Thank you! I didn’t really think of a second gift ... but ... I wanted to ask a question, if I may.”
“Perhaps I will answer, perhaps I will not,” I said glibly. “The opportunity to ask is your reward this time.”
‘This time’, I’d said. She was a smart girl and knew what I meant. Probably.
“When can mercy be found?”
The demoness’ presence grew heavy.
A pivotal question, my passenger said. One of the few that matter. Did she truly dream of it? Did she merely hear it somewhere? She cannot be so close; she does not possess the gravitas of one who Knows. There is no ink in your country that could record that question. No tongue that could transmit its meaning. She is a blind beggar, mewling for scraps of light.
“Do you know what you’ve just asked me?” I carefully let my face close off, all mirth draining away. It was clearly an important question, given the demoness’ outburst. I needed to treat it seriously, even if I had no clue what Camilla meant.
The little lamp is a thief or a fool. No, she is both. She does not deserve to Know. Think not of asking me. This is one such price you cannot pay, not with such offerings as you have. Not with power I myself gave you.
Camilla hesitated. She looked queasy, her face scrunched as if she’d bitten into a lemon. She poked out her tongue, trying to escape the bitterness, but couldn’t. Not while her tongue was bleeding dark crimson all over her mouth
Raven watched the interplay with undisguised curiosity. She clearly understood just as little as I did. Probably less, since she didn’t have a demon in her head.
“You do not know,” I said, leaning back on my shitty food court chair as though it was some luxurious throne. “You would not. Who taught you this?”
“I don’t—” Camilla said, tongue thick, mouth filling with blood. She spat into a napkin, staining it nearly black.
Glory is a question, the demoness said, her words burning themselves into my awareness. Its adherents scour the world for the answer. Tell her that you know she is a thief. Tell her that you will not grant her the answer because she does not deserve to Know. And she never will.
“Some things you cannot steal, little lamp, no matter how much your scouring eyes can see,” I said, letting pity drip from my voice like poison. “If you want the answer, you must first earn the question. And I don’t mean earn it by doing measly chores for your betters.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on my entwined knuckles. “No, such a thing can only be earned by right of conquest. I can teach you how.” I smiled, sharp and mean. “Glory is a question. What is your answer?”
The blind lead the blind into the deepest dark. There was some anger in her voice, some disgust, but I could feel her intimate gaze. As when I’d cursed Alyssa, I had the fullness of the demoness’s attention on me.
Camilla was eleven paper napkins deep, and still her tongue was weeping. Less now, and her last few napkins weren’t completely soaked and were recognizably red rather than black. Even Raven was looking a bit concerned. Or maybe that was disgust—it was hard to tell.
She had listened to my spiel, though. I could see the calculations happening behind her eyes, even through the discomfort. The blonde was considering her words carefully. She knew this was a pivotal exchange, even if she didn’t know exactly how. The secret, I found, to keeping your intentions secret was to not exactly know them yourself until the moment of fate arrived.
Camilla dabbed at her tongue one last time. As the bleeding stopped, the wound became visible for the first time: a spiral drilling deeper and deeper, ringed by a wavy halo. I was unsure of what any of that meant.
“Yes,” she finally said. Then her eyes went wide and she froze, as if staring at something that ... was not there.
Glory is a question, the demoness repeated slowly and deliberately. Woe to those who dare answer.
The demoness cackled as light began to pour from Camilla’s eyes, then her gaping mouth. In the middle of the food court. It was a cruel, mocking laugh that I did my best to ignore as I rose from my chair. I did so calmly and slowly, so as not to draw more eyes our way, then draped my jacket over Camilla. It kept her hidden well enough.
“Raven, collect the napkins. Shove them into Camilla’s purse,” I ordered as I looked around. Shit. Just as I’d feared. Someone was filming, some teenager with his friends gawking beside him. Fucking phone cameras. At least it was only the one. Hopefully. “Then carry her to the car. I’ll be right with you.”
I had no time to ensure she obeyed. I marched over to the teens. At first they were too transfixed to notice me, but the one filming managed to yank his phone back as I moved to snatch it.
“Hey, fuck off!” the teen shouted, half startled and half filled with the boldness of youth. “You—”
“Cease,” I uttered on instinct alone. My voice reverberated in my own head like a gong. I felt the power leave me, take shape in the immaterial places between, and seize the young man’s heart and squeeze.
As if in slow motion, the teen’s eyes widened, and he gripped his chest. He tried to speak, but his words died in his throat. Something that had been ... was no longer.
I ripped the phone from his weak grip as he fell. His friends shouted in horror, and a few started toward me, but a mean look stopped them. I went through the photos and deleted as much of his gallery as I could, starting with the recent videos and photos. I didn’t know if it would stick. I knew there were ways to recover this sort of thing. I needed a surer way. I needed everyone to...
“Forget.”
Again, my power gripped the world. Again, it took the shape of my ill intent. It struck at the group, and at the phone. Its tendrils spread far and wide besides, reaching places I couldn’t see, seeking everyone who had seen—everyone who remembered.
And then I heard ... no, it wasn’t a sound, not one heard by ears. I felt, through my soul, a keening, then a wrenching, then a forcing together of existence. An existence in which a tree had fallen, but no one had been there to see it. Something that had been ... was no longer.
The world became deathly quiet then. I dropped the phone, confident that not even my fingerprints remained to prove I’d ever handled it, and walked away. As I turned a corner, away from the food court and toward the parking garage, I heard a piercing scream. Then pandemonium. But by then it wasn’t my problem anymore, for I had never been there at all.
Such is the power of the Absolute, the demoness crowed. I felt her, and could nearly, nearly see her. She embraced me from behind, her chin resting on my shoulder, an angelic smile on her lips. I saw through her wiles, however, to the dagger-like teeth gleaming gleefully behind feigned serenity.
By rights I should have felt great. The sheer power flowing through me was immense, and a surge of endorphins flooded my system. But all of that masked a deeper, more insidious void. I really, really needed to figure out how to gain more essence. Time was running out.
The store was brighter than Alyssa had expected. The last of the red sunlight poured through wide, wall-length windows, and warm electric sconces and an elaborate chandelier lit whatever the sun couldn’t reach.
The lobby was small and arranged like an antique tearoom, lush with greenery and flowers, with an intricately carved round table ringed by five or six chairs and a plain hardwood counter. Behind it, a woman sat with a book in hand, seemingly oblivious to Alyssa’s arrival.
The woman was a pale brunette in a brown sweater and thin, black-rimmed glasses. Her long fingers were adorned with plain rings of different metals.
A flicker of envy crossed Alyssa’s face at seeing a prettier, more put-together version of herself, but only for a second. She would take whatever she lacked, by right of strength and deed. This woman, probably Sophie, didn’t matter. Alyssa would rise above. She would take her rightful place astride—
“Alyssa Hawkroft,” the shopkeeper said, her voice languid. She hadn’t bothered to lift her eyes from her book. “I am Sophie, and today is a special day for you.” She set the book down and met Alyssa’s gaze with vivid hazel eyes. “Birth is not always given. Sometimes it is taken, and you’ve taken it today. Taken it from the clutches of a power beyond your grasping.”
The shopkeeper walked to the lone bookshelf behind the counter, on her right. “Don’t let yourself be fooled into thinking this victory was earned. Unlike your birth, this victory was given.” She touched book after book, pulling them forward a bit before rejecting them with a soft hum. Eventually, she pulled one out completely, seemingly satisfied with what she found. It had a velvet-red hardcover, its front cover decorated with a gold-leaf pattern whose details Alyssa couldn’t discern from across the room.