CH 22 - Beauty’s Return

“Master!” the slave tugged on his sleeve. “Master, that’s her!”

De Sade was on the verge of beating the wretch to the ground for having the gall to touch him. Then he realized what the man was saying and forgot all about punishment. He looked where the slave pointed.

Through the milling crowd, he saw a cloaked female slipping between human and demon bodies toward the gates of the city. A suspiciously large pack was strapped to her back. The hood of her cloak had fallen back. Snow-white hair spilled down around either side of a gorgeous lavender face and bright, golden eyes.

“Watch him!” De Sade order the two guards and darted away, ignoring their protests. He rushed through the crowd, desperate to get a better look. He circled around into an intercept path...

“Oh, please excuse me!” he offered as he “accidentally” bumped into Beauty.

She just glared at him and pushed past.

For a moment, de Sade stood in silent astonishment and watched her walk away. Whoever this Succubus was, she was very young. He could see that by the small horns on her head and the lack of either tail or wings. Why then, had he felt such essence and vitality when they touched? It surpassed even that of Baroness Graveek!

Who is that creature? he thought, and immediately after, Who is this human male she has claimed?

Rushing back to his men, de Sade pointed at Boris and then at Beauty’s back. “Follow that demon. If she leaves the city, do not follow but note carefully what direction. I will find you at the gates.”

Boris nodded and pushed off into the crowd.

“Follow me,” he ordered Jimmy. “And bring the slave.”

His destination was a shop in mid-town, a nebulous area where most of the business of the city was conducted. Here the wealthy could buy and the poor could be bought through brokers in various areas of specialty. The broker de Sade sought was located in a dilapidated corner building. The sign over his shop showed a shadowy figure standing over a body. The sign read “Hunters for Hire. We let no one escape.”

He stepped inside as a small bell rang over the door. A servant, collared and branded, started out of a light doze where he lay on a thick book on the counter. The young man sat up straight and blinked at de Sade. “Welcome to Hunters for Hire. Who can we hunt down for you today?”

“Baroness Graveek requires your best hunter, and she needs him now.”

The servant blinked at him.

“Now, boy, now!” de Sade bellowed.

The young man jumped up and ran from the room. A few, long minutes later, a blue-skinned Incubus stepped in from the back room. His forest green eyes glowed malevolently at de Sade. A mohawk of black hair rose like a crest from his otherwise bald head. “I am called Makanta. This is my shop. Why are you barking at my servant, little human?”

De Sade offered a friendly smile. “Apologies, but my Master’s need is urgent. I ... she requires the services of your best hunters ... immediately please, Master Makanta.”

The demon glared at him. De Sade made a supreme effort not to squirm with impatience or to dwell on the fact that every moment wasted allowed the beautiful Succubus to get even farther away. He was acutely aware that, despite being marked on his left cheek with the harem brand of his mistress, disrespect to a demon of Master rank would only complicate and hinder his task.

“How many?” Makanta finally asked.

De Sade thought about Graveek’s missing demons, mighty Chort, and deadly Seralla. He thought back on how empty the skies had been in recent weeks and whispers of lone demons falling prey to some unknown threat out in the Waste. He set the bulging money pouch on the counter and pushed it over.

“All of them,” de Sade replied.

Makanta grinned, then picked up a tiny bell. It tinkled when he shook it. The young servant appeared immediately.

“Summon Tabik and Karl Denke.”

“Pardon, Master.” De Sade said carefully. “If I may ask, the name “Karl Denke” sounds human. Is a human soul your best hunter?”

The demon just smiled, flipped to a specific page in the thick book, and turned it around for de Sade to read.

Karl Denke. Prussian serial killer who preyed on travelers and the homeless from 1903 to 1924. Thirty confirmed kills. Cannibal and seasoned outdoor hunter. Hell Hound trainer.

“My best,” Makanta leered. “As long as he gets to eat.”

“Well then,” the Marquis replied. “Would tender, young Succubus flesh suffice?”

Time passed slowly for Logan. As welcome and valued as Karen’s company was, he worried about Beauty nearly every waking moment. One day became two, and then nearly a week with no sign of the Succubus. More than once he considered going out to look for her but, among all the ravines and broken landscape, he knew the chances of running into her were slim to none. There was nothing to do except wait and hope all was well.

On day five since her departure, a sudden noise from the outside entrance sent Logan bolting to his feet in a state of high alert. He looked up at where the sound had originated, sword and dagger in his hands. A moment later, Beauty stumbled into the light, hand clutched around her left arm.

“Hunters,” she growled and dropped to her knees, a large backpack falling from her shoulders to the cavern floor.

He rushed to her side with Karen only a few steps behind. A quick exam revealed the wound to be shallow. Only a graze but her flesh was not cut clean as if it would be from a blade or arrow. The wound was a blunt tear.

He knew that kind of wound. Shock and disbelief trickled down his spine like cold water. It looked like a bullet wound.

“Beauty, look at me.” Her beautiful, golden eyes turned up toward him. “Listen to me, Beauty. When you were wounded ... just before it happened, did you hear a loud, sharp sound?”

The Succubus nodded, confirming his worst fears. Guns. Logan stared at the sword in his hand. Jesus H. Christ, the enemy has guns!

“How many hunters, Beauty?” he asked. “How far way?”

“Six humans and a Hellhound,” she reported in an exhausted voice. “A day behind.”

Logan felt a dark tide of despair roll over him. Damn near a full squad, armed with modern weapons, and an attack animal versus him, a wounded Succubus, an unskilled civilian, and a handful of medieval, melee weapons!

We are so fucked. Out loud he said to Karen, “Let’s get her comfortable on the moss,” as he lifted Beauty in his arms.

Karen ran ahead to roll up a hide as a pillow and grab the partially completed blanket. Logan carried his lover over and gently lowered her to the moss. Karen tucked her in.

“Logan, what are we going to do?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

Logan smiled with confidence he didn’t feel. “It’s going to be fine, Karen. Your job right now is to look after Beauty. Nothing else. Leave the rest to me, ok?”

“Yes.” Karen took a deep, shaky breath. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good girl.” He smiled and kissed her forehead.

That should distract her from panicking for a while. The last thing he needed at this moment was a civilian with idle hands and an active imagination. Fear was contagious and potentially fatal. The best cure was something else to focus on.