CH 13 - Interrogation

Beauty was gone again by the time Logan woke. It was still early morning, judging by the weak rays of light spilling through the ceiling crack. She could not have been gone for long. The shape of her body could still be seen where she had been lying on the moss.

Hunting, he assumed. Or just avoiding me.

On the other side of the now cold, dead fire, Karen still lay in an uneasy sleep. Seeing her lying there, naked and dirty, on the cave floor reminded Logan of his first night in Hell. It made his back hurt to remember, and he resolved to do whatever he could for her. What that might be was, as of yet, unknown. They were all in uncharted territory now.

He yawned and rubbed at the dull ache behind his eyes. The idea that his mother’s God, the Christian God, could allow such a horribly unjust place as Hell to exist had kept him awake most of the night. It burned still in his gut. He looked up at the ceiling of the cavern.

“God, if you do exist, then you are one sick son-of-bitch.”

Karen squeaked, jumped where she lay, and slowly rolled over to face him.

“Sorry,” he grimaced. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Karen shook her head, then sat up and tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. “I was awake. Just trying to ... remember.” Her eyes were wide and troubled as she gazed at him in the ruddy light. “You say that word so easily.”

“What? God?” He watched her flinch, then reluctantly nodded. “It’s not a magic word, Karen. It isn’t even a real name. According to Jewish tradition, it’s actually...”

“Don’t say it!” she cried.

He held up a hand in a peace gesture. “Alright, I won’t, but there is nothing to be frightened of. You could say it too, you know. Words only have power over you if you let them.”

“We cannot.” Karen shook her head, sending her bangs to fall around her face like a curtain.

“Why not?”

“Because ... we are the damned. We are not worthy.”

“Not worthy?” Logan struggled to keep his voice calm and conversational. “Says who?”

“It just is,” she muttered at the ground.

“We are going to have to work on that,” Logan sighed. “But one step at a time. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think,” Karen replied. “Stronger.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned. “That’s excellent news.”

Her face softened. It was almost a smile. “Thank you.” She tucked her hair back again. “For everything.”

“You are very welcome, but I cannot take much credit. Beauty did far more than I did.”

Karen nodded. “So you said but ... I don’t understand it.”

“Honestly?” Logan shrugged. “I don’t know that I understand it either. There is a lot that I don’t get about this place, at least not yet. For now, let it be enough that she is my friend, and that makes her your friend too. Can you do that?”

Karen hesitated, then nodded. “I think so.”

They heard movement at the entrance to the cavern. Beauty emerged out of the shadow with their spear in hand and nothing else. She did not look happy about it and pointed up at the ceiling, making a wide circle with her finger. “Flyer.”

“Really?” Logan scratched thoughtfully at his chin scruff. “That is not good. If he discovers our location...”

“She,” Beauty corrected.

Logan nodded, then gave Karen an appraising look. “You said it was impossible to fight back against the Masters. I can show you that it isn’t true. Especially if you are willing to help.”

She blinked at him and frowned. “I don’t know anything about fighting.”

“That’s ok.” Logan bared his teeth in a feral grin. “How are you at playing wounded bird?”

The Succubus stretched her wings out to feel hot wind tickling over the delicate membranes. She soared and swooped on the shifting currents in lazy spirals. A long, sinuous tail trailed behind. From up here, the broken landscape could hide little from her raptor’s gaze.

Movement on the ground caught her eye. She banked hard but saw only a small, furry animal scampering into cover and gave it no further thought. Hunger demanded a different sort of prey.

She soared and glided, climbed toward the boiling clouds, and turned into the moaning wind, but always her attention was below. The demon scanned rock and dirt, hill and valley, with a hunter’s patience. Suddenly, off to her right, there was a flash of white against the rust-colored ground. She looked, and a slow smile of anticipation crawled across her lovely face.

A human female was moving awkwardly through broken rocks. Only a short distance away, a younger demon, white-haired, lavender skinned and wingless, was in pursuit. The human was limping and moving slow. The young Succubus was being overconfident, playing with her food, and letting the chase continue for the sake of amusement. That mistake would earn her an empty belly this day.

The demon turned into the high currents of air and positioned herself behind them both where neither hunter nor prey would see her coming until it was far too late. Her gaze narrowed against the driving, dust-choked wind. Her wings pulled in close as she dived.

The ground hurtled up at her. She leveled out on spreading wings. The startled face of the lavender Succubus flashed by. The flying hunter reached out to seize the human soul by her dark hair, already anticipating the rich taste of fear and lust.

Something moved out of cover just ahead of her prey. Another human stepped out from behind a tall rock. A male, armed with a spear! The demon beat the air frantically with her wings to gain altitude, to escape and counter-attack.

The spear hurtled through the air. Agony bloomed like a poison flower as it tore through the delicate membrane of one wing. The shaft tangled into her wing, robbed her of flight, and sent her hurtling toward the ground.

Logan heard the impact as the demon crashed and tumbled across the dirt and the snap of bone as one wing twisted and broke against an outcropping of rock. He rushed over and pointed his sword at her.

“Surrender and live,” he demanded.

Despite oily, black smoke pouring from a half dozen wounds and a broken wing, the Succubus roared and surged to her bird-like, clawed feet. Both hands blurred and, as if by magic, a curved, wickedly sharp knife appeared in each hand from the twin sheaths at her sides. A long tail coiled behind her like an angry python. Pain and fury twisted lovely features into something savage. She settled onto the balls of her feet, low and ready.

He stopped his charge just short of melee range and cursed. “Or not apparently.”

The two combatants began to circle, each weighing and measuring the other. Logan suspected that he had the advantage of height, reach, and probably greater strength. Judging by the demon’s moves, he suspected she was far quicker and was no stranger to knife fighting.

That was bad news. Combat with short blades was a brutal, ugly business under the best of circumstances, which this was not. Anyone with training or experience understood one simple, ugly truth about knife fights. The loser bleeds out then and the winner bleeds out later.

“Worm! Maggot! You dare attack me?” She snarled as Logan began to circle, dagger in his right hand, short sword in his left. “You will suffer a thousand deaths for this! The winds will carry your screams for eternity.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he quipped. “Do demons even have mothers?”

Logan kept circling, forcing the Succubus to drag her broken wing and turn with him. Her wounds put time on his side. It allowed him the opportunity to better assess his opponent.

She was, he had to admit, a magnificent example of savage, female perfection. This Succubus was tall and lean, where Beauty was slightly shorter and more generously curved. Her skin tone was a light gray, almost silver. Blue hair spilled across her shoulders. Cupid bow lips, a pert nose, and large, purple eyes would have looked angelic if not for the curling ram’s horns in her forehead, the savage snarl on her lips, and the promise of murder in her violet glare.

Her luscious body was protected by the first true example of armor Logan had yet seen. Leather greaves and vambraces protected her lower arms and legs. A one-piece corset of banded black leather shielded her breasts and belly. A slim triangle of leather covered her sex. Stamped over the swell of her left breast was familiar design, a snake coiled to strike.

The demon was evaluating him in a similar manner. Her eyes went wide as they focused on the same emblem on his shoulder. “You!” she snarled. “You defeated Chort! How is this possible?”

“Friend of yours?” Logan taunted. “Not anymore, sweetheart.”

The Succubus roared and moved with blinding speed, hoping to catch him off guard. Twin knives cut at him high and low. Blades rang together. Logan side-stepped, blocked, and jumped away.

“How are you so strong? Too strong for a typical mortal soul,” the Succubus hissed. “What are you?”

Logan shrugged. “At the moment, I would have to say ... a distraction.”

Understanding dawned on her pretty face too late. Logan watched Beauty rise out of the rocks behind the other Succubus without a sound, a large rock gripped in one hand. The rock crashed down on the back of the target’s blue-hued head of hair. Lovely purple eyes fluttered and closed as she fell to the dirt.