CH 14 - Ambition

There is no such thing as trust in Hell and true loyalty is rare. There is only mutual gain.

Seralla’s words were a validation of all the suspicions Logan had begun to worry might be true. It cut deep to have his worst fears confirmed.

The Succubus had not hesitated, for even a moment, to betray her Master at the mere possibility of personal gain. He now knew all of Hell was a battleground of ambition and shifting alliances. Exactly as one would expect of a world ruled by demonic creatures.

Creatures just like Beauty.

He glanced over to see her watching him with those alien, golden, cat eyes. As usual, her face was unreadable. Her thoughts, and her motives, remained a mystery.

Trust and loyalty were alien concepts here. Expecting to find either was foolish, even with her. Perhaps especially with Beauty. Worse, it was dangerous.

It all comes back to predator or prey, he thought as they traveled across the broken landscape. And which one I choose to be.

Perhaps it was better this way. Any sense of loyalty he felt toward Beauty, or anyone in this nightmare realm, was an anchor he could not afford if there was to be any hope of finding a way to escape Hell. Self-preservation had to be his priority. Escape had to be his only goal.

No one spoke on the trek back to the cavern. The only sounds were the crunch of their feet in the dirt and the moan of the Hellwind. Thankfully, it was a mild breeze for now, but that could change at any moment into a furious, scouring gale that tore at exposed flesh.

Everything in Hell, from the inhabitants to the weather, was a danger. Logan swallowed against an impotent fury that seemed to always be simmering in his chest these days. I hate this fucking place! There has to be a way out and it can’t happen soon enough.

They reached the cavern without issue. Seralla had to be helped up onto the ledge to reach the entrance. It was awkward because of her broken wing, and Beauty was not happy to assist, but it was that or untie the demon’s hands, which wasn’t an option he was willing to consider.

Once inside, Seralla looked around. “This is where you shelter?” she laughed. “It’s even worse than I thought.”

“No one asked you for decorating advice.” He gave her a gentle push to get moving again. “Sit over there.”

Karen settled in nearby, looking unhappy. Beauty stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“We talk?”

“And leave her unguarded? No.” He brushed her hand away. “Later. Trust me, ok?”

Trust me. Logan wanted to vomit to hear those words from his own mouth. Because I can no longer trust you.

He settled on the other side of the fire pit and started the tedious process of creating a flame. Seralla watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity.

“Ok,” he said as he worked. “You’ve had time to think about it, so let’s talk it through. How do you see this happening?”

“I think it best that I go alone,” the silver Succubus replied. “If I can secure an audience with...”

“No.” Logan paused in his work to stare across the pit at her. “Do I look stupid? I’m not letting you free to play this out to your advantage. We do this together or not at all.”

“So be it.” A ghost of a smile played across her lips. Logan got the impression that his response was not unexpected. “However, we cannot simply walk you into the city. Unmarked as you are and without more wealth and a more impressive harem to show, you would only appear weak and invite attack. We will need to get you to the attention, and protection, of the Prince before that happens.”

“Unmarked?” he asked. “Explain.”

Seralla touched her right cheek. “Every damned soul and lesser demon brought into a Master’s service is branded here with that owner’s insignia. It establishes ownership and acts as a form of protection against other demons making a claim on that servant. For one granted the rare honor of joining the Master’s harem, they receive a similar mark on the left side to indicate their higher status.”

“Branded,” Logan repeated in a flat voice. “Like livestock.”

“I know not what “livestock” is, but yes, they are branded.”

Logan nodded. “You keep using the word “harem”. What exactly does that word mean to you?”

The Succubus looked at him with a strange and curious expression. Inwardly, Logan cursed at himself for revealing the depths of his ignorance but it was the only way to learn what he did not know. A dangerous game to play but necessary nonetheless.

“To me?” the demon considered the question. “It means power and privilege, of course. To judge the relative strength and importance of anyone in Hell, you have only to observe the wealth they carry upon their person and the size and prestige of their harem.”

“How is one marked with a harem brand different from a servant? Both are property of the Master, are they not?”

“Yes and no,” Seralla answered. “Yes, both are taken by and bound by the right of claiming. However, unlike servants, recruiting someone into a harem cannot be forced. That bond can only be created with one willing to join- as you have already experienced for yourself. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Master gains prestige and the one invited gains the protection of one strong enough to keep them safe, secure, and ... satisfied.”

Logan struggled to keep his face unreadable as the implications of her words sank in. As you have already experienced for yourself. He looked over at Beauty and Karen where they sat and watched the exchange with worried expressions.

Is that what she thinks is happening here? he wondered.

Seralla shook her head in mild astonishment. “Though you are taking a very foolish risk by not placing your Master’s mark on your harem. Still, as poor and weak as you are, I suppose it wouldn’t make any difference if someone stronger decided to take them from you.”

He turned his attention back to the captive demon. “Not that weak, sweetheart. I did take you down, and you are not the first.” A strange thought crossed his mind as he said it. “This “right of claiming” you mentioned ... Since I won and you lost, does mean I can now claim you into my service?”

To his astonishment, Seralla scowled at him but offered no protest.

“Interesting,” he said. “Let’s put a pin in that one for now and talk more about getting into the city. If I can’t walk in, then what do you suggest?”

She looked up at him with a gleam in her purple eyes. “The simplest solution would be to mark you as owned.”

“Not happening.”

“Hmm, no I thought not,” she smiled. “Still, it need not be a permanent brand. The mark can be faked as a new brand with a shallow cut and ash from your fire. It won’t pass a close examination but would suffice for a casual look if you know where to go and where to avoid.”

“And if we do not go with a brand? What then?”

The demon shrugged in a way that made it difficult to ignore the way her naked anatomy moved. The knowing look in her eyes was clear evidence that she knew exactly what effect it was intended to have. “Without a brand or sufficient status of your own, you and your females would be considered unclaimed. Another demon could attempt to take you from me. In my wounded state, I could do little to stop them.”

“I could stop them,” he replied.

“Perhaps you could, but what then? A human attacking a demon in the city streets would be inconceivable. The entire city of Gomorrah would rouse to hunt you down, and me as well for allowing it to happen.”

“Noted,” Logan grunted. “Ok, let’s say we get into the city unchallenged. How do we get in to see the Prince?”

“I do not know,” the demon frowned. “But I believe I know one who does. Asmodeus has a servant that, it is said, carries great favor with him. One that I have heard he went to great lengths to acquire for his harem. She is an ancient soul by the name of Cleopatra. According to her reputation, she is nearly as ambitious as her Master. Through her, we may find a way to circumvent the usual barriers for an audience with the Prince.”

Logan blinked at her. “Cleopatra? As in the queen of Egypt?”

“The very same,” the demon nodded.

“Wow,” he muttered. The idea of meeting the most famous Egyptian queen that had ever lived was a wild idea. So too, were the implications of her presence in Hell. Here again was another apparent contradiction. An ancient queen of a people that worshiped ancient gods such as Ra and Anubis long before the birth of Christianity, and yet condemned to Christian Hell. How? Why?

“As I said, she is a prized servant with no small degree of power and privilege of her own, even her own small harem.” Seralla offered a sly smile. “As will you, if Asmodeus accepts you into his service.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re not there yet.” He blew on the fragile flame until it grew and began to prep the latest kill for cooking. “Hungry?”