The Pleasures of Hell
Copyright© 2023 by Novus Animus
Chapter 55
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 55 - An epic fantasy adventure through Hell, with demons and angels, and a couple humans with targets painted on their back. David and Mia didn’t want to be a part of this, but their unexpected first deaths land them in the middle of events grand and beyond knowing. Why are they in Hell in the first place? Why don’t they have the mark of the Beast, like other souls do? And why does everyone either want them, or want them dead?
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Reluctant Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Horror Paranormal Demons DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Lactation Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Size
~~David~~
The issue was punching through the silencing weight of the alien presence, like trying to play the guitar when someone else was muting the strings with a blanket. He had to hit the strings hard. Beyond hard. Agony coursed through his limbs, but the vibration reached Hell, and Hell listened. If she hadn’t, he couldn’t have done shit.
It didn’t happen quickly. Hell struggled, fought against the muting weight of the alien shrieks, but as Ezekiel sliced more tentacles apart, Hell pushed the song through, and the canyon closed. A couple tentacles still stuck up from the void below, but the ravine closed regardless, and the two remaining tentacles were snipped off. The alien shriek shifted from the muting void, to physical alien screams, something everyone could hear, but no longer blocked the music as much.
Canyon closed, David and the girls stared down from the base of the Scar’s left mountain, and watched the aliens scream. Maybe they’d melt, like severed tentacles did, now that their connection with whatever was in the canyon was gone?
Nope, the aliens shrieked, more alien screams that echoed through Vasil’s Mouth. And David couldn’t do anything about it. He reached for the strings again, but it was like before. The aliens muted them, not as heavy anymore, but they were closer now, and David was wrecked. His inner fingers ached. He was beyond drained. Stars danced in his vision, white spots that turned black.
Batlam vanished. Staff gone, he grabbed Caera’s spikes and held on as exhaustion tore through him. Sweat dripped down his body. His legs shook. He hyperventilated, desperate to get some air in his system, but it didn’t help. Aches grabbed his bones and joints, and hunger followed, deep hunger that reached out from his stomach to his skin and skull.
“David?” Caera asked.
“I ... I can’t ... do anything more.”
“Shit,” Jes said. “They’re coming.”
The girls turned and faced the tide. It was only a fraction of what’d been there before, but it came at them over the corpses of angels and a few demons. Saar was dead. The angels were dead. Timaeus was dead. David was drained. Laoko had to be drained, after all that hellfire. Moriah could still fight, but she wasn’t at a hundred percent, either. And there had to be at least a few hundred of the creatures remaining.
The reaper tore through the sky like a homing missile, and crashed into a flying alien. A few remained, and he cut each of them down in melee. They shot their strange orbs at him, but he dodged each one, closed the distance, and cut them down.
Some angels remained. The gabriem. Maybe fifty, they hovered high above the battlefield, so distant David couldn’t see any details. But he could see glowing yellow dots streak through the air like tracer bullets, hundreds of them, and they rained on the remaining aliens.
But some broke through the chaos of gold explosions and came for David. He had enough energy to get off Caera, but the moment he stood on the ground, his legs betrayed him and he sat down. No point in running anymore, anyway. The aliens were too fast.
Laoko, panting and exhausted, drew her four swords and stood in front of him, but Caera got ahead of her, Dao and Jes at her sides, and they cut down the first of the alien horde.
Hands grabbed David, and he snapped his head.
“David!” Lasca said. “Come. We protect.” With a big smile, the little lady pulled on his hand, and Laara joined her. Latia and Laria got in front of him, held their axes at the ready, and slowly backed up with him as David slid along the ground.
Five meters away on the increasingly steep slope, his girls cut down a half dozen of the creatures. Acelina joined them, brought down her huge axe, and split one creature on all-fours apart. Moriah moved in, too, covering the other side, and she unleashed a gold arc of energy that cut a line through several of the creatures. But there were too many, and they dashed around the sides of the girls and came for him.
Lasca and Laara let him go, and the two impas and two gremlas shrieked death cries and cut at the much larger creatures. The aliens weren’t huge, maybe as big as Jeskura, but there were many of them, and they wore their strange black and purple armor that belonged on nautilus shells. Lasca’s sword bounce off its armor at the shoulder, but Latia dove past her and chopped it in the throat. It gargled, fell over, and clawed at the ground with its too-human hands.
Laara did the same for another of the aliens. The Las were tiny, but plenty stronger than a regular human, and she swung her sword hard. She got the alien in the arm, it fell over, and she and Laria chopped it up.
“Don’t!” David yelled. “Get out of here! Run!”
Latia, littlest of the Las, shook her head and got between David and another alien.
“David! We protect! We—”
Blood splattered across David’s face, warm. Latia fell over, landed on her side facing him, eyes wide. She stared at him.
Her arm fell beside her and rolled a couple meters down the hill.
David stared at her, at the blood gushing from her shoulder socket, and froze. Sitting on his ass, he just stared, blinking. Part of him reached for the strings, but the aliens were too close, and no matter how hard he plucked, he couldn’t make anything happen.
Latia’s blood trickled down the steep rock. She was so small. A tiny, dainty little thing, in the middle of battle. She pushed herself up with her one arm, got back up to her hooves, grabbed her axe, and turned toward the battle again. Blood flowed down her side, sometimes squirting from the wound, sometimes flowing straight down. It leaked down her leg, down her hoof, and flowed down the mountain.
David reached out for the alien who cut her. It’d used its trident. Latia’s blood dripped from the sharp, spear-like tips.
The strings didn’t respond. No music. This close to the alien, even if his inner fingers had felt fine, he wouldn’t have been able to move the strings. Its presence, only a few meters away, muted the strings around it, and everything became static. It all looked the same, but it felt like nothing.
Latia stood there, hissed up at the monster, and with her single arm, swung at it. It hissed down at her and knocked her aside with its trident. She blocked, barely, but the impact sent her to her side, and she whined as her body trembled. More blood flowed from the wound, but it grew slower, and slower. Latia went still, and lay there, wings unmoving, hooves shifting only inches.
David stared at her, but as the alien approached, he set his eyes on the creature, and aimed his hand at it. He couldn’t play the music. He couldn’t so much as vibrate a single string. The presence of Hell was beyond his reach, and he couldn’t even create an aura.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t fucking matter. He aimed his hand at the parasite, and let the rage inside him boil. His veins burned. His eyes burned. His heart burned. It was a strange sensation, to completely let go, to stop trying to control emotions and simply let them come out as much and as quickly as they wanted. It poured over his body, his mind, blinded him to everything. All he felt was heat, and rage.
His hand changed. Bone moved. Fingers merged.
The alien’s head exploded in a gold flash, and a breeze washed over David’s body. It felt infinitely cool against the fire scalding his guts, and the inner flame disappeared as a gabriem landed beside the alien.
David spared a glance for his hand. Back to normal. He snapped his gaze around and winced as more gold explosions destroyed the creatures on the hill. Several dozen angel wings descended on them, unleashed arrows, and what invaders had gotten close to David and the girls were wiped out in seconds.
He looked past them down the hill. Ezekiel. The reaper, far slower than before and on his feet, put himself in the middle of what remained of the creatures, and fought in melee. The aliens on all fours tore at him, ripped out feathers, and drew blood. The aliens with tridents stabbed him, pierced armor in thin places, and drew blood. The reaper fought on.
“Unmarked,” a gabriem said. “Are you injured?”
“Help her.”
The angel tilted his head. “Are you—”
David glared up at the angel and pointed at Latia. “I said help her!”
“A gremla?”
David got up and glared up at the man as new waves of agony and heat coursed through his limbs.
“Help. Her. Now!”
The angel blinked down at him, nodded, and knelt beside Latia’s body.
“Fetch her arm.” Thank god for the angels. Once they listened, they listened. No arguing, just doing.
David stumbled down the hill, grabbed her arm, and ran back to the gabriem. It was an arm. He was holding an arm.
His brain shut off. Just go. Don’t let the reality affect you. Just go.
He got on his knees beside Latia. The gabriem had her on her back, and her eyes were half open. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing.
David put the arm against the shoulder socket as best he could. Bone against bone, flesh against flesh.
“David?” Lasca’s voice. “David. Latia!”
Within seconds, Lasca, Laara, and Laria stood around Latia and David, each whining and whimpering. The battle was over. They didn’t have to fight anymore. The distant sound of the reaper’s sword cutting through the remaining creatures didn’t matter. All that mattered was the little lady on the bloody ground. Her blood.
“I told you to run,” David said. “I told you to run. If ... If things got bad, you were supposed to run.”
“David.” Caera’s voice. She came up beside him and nudged her cheek against his shoulder. “David.”
“She should have run. I told her to run. I told all of you to run!” He set his eyes on the other Las, but they met his gaze, and sucker punched him with them. Big, beautiful eyes, filled with tears.
More bodies collected around David, some angel, some demon. David didn’t look at them.
His insides closed. His lungs stopped. His brain froze. It was just like that time at the funeral. Emotions boiled then, but they hadn’t been his, and they’d run him over. Being around all those people swept up in emotions, dominated by them, crying tears or turned zombie by their sadness, had been too much. It’d broken him, then.
This time, it was his emotions.
The gabriem’s hand glowed gold. His eyes, exposed from within the helmet’s wide opening, stared hard at the little lady. Violet eyes set and unmoving, unblinking, the gabriem’s hand glowed brighter. Another gabriem joined them, gently nudged the Las aside with her wings, knelt, and set a hand on Latia’s shoulder.
Nothing happened. She didn’t move.
“David.” Jes’s voice. “I saw what happened. She—”
David snapped his head around and glared up at the gorgala. She stepped back.
The silent music came back. The aliens were dead. What remained of Saar’s forces came and finished off the aliens that’d jumped across the canyon and chased David. If he wanted, he could play the music, push through the pain, and make something happen.
But he couldn’t do anything about Latia.
She didn’t move.
“David.” Caera’s voice again. “David, come on.”
He said nothing, eyes locked on Latia. Please. He couldn’t handle this. Couldn’t deal with this. If she died, if this little lady died because of him, like this, he’d snap, just like that time at the funeral. He couldn’t handle it.
Softness touched his shoulder. Feathers.
“David.” Moriah’s voice. “She lost too much blood.”
He didn’t move.
Daoka squatted beside him. He expected some clicks, but she said nothing. Slowly, she set a hand on the little gremla’s breastplate, and waited with him.
Silence fell on them all. More angels surrounded them, but none said a word. Everyone waited.
Latia’s eyes opened.
Coughing and sputtering, Latia sat up. Her little noises turned into squeaks as her sisters fell on her and hugged her tight. They wrapped her in their wings, and the four ladies disappeared inside walls of thin red wing membrane.
“Latia!”
“Latia!”
“Latia!”
David fell back on his ass and let a thousand muscles finally relax. The rage faded again, and the strange burning sensation it sent into his fingertips left with it.
“Latia,” he said. “You ... You okay?”
All four Las threw themselves at David. He fell back, and the little ladies pinned him, hugged him, with Latia in the middle on his chest. She rubbed her face on his, cheek to cheek, and buried her nose in his neck.
“I’m okay! Went dark. Couldn’t see. Arm hurts.”
“Enough.” Acelina lifted each La up by their horns one at a time and set them aside. But when she got to Latia, she lifted her gently, set her down just as gently, and squatted in front of her. “You are a stupid ... brave little creature.”
David sat up and smiled back at the spire mother. Her words didn’t have as much venom as usual. And adding shock to surprise, Acelina hugged the tiny lady to her breastplate. Expression unreadable on her black canvas face, the spire mother stroked Latia’s dreadlocks, nudged foreheads, and checked the little lady’s wings for damage.
“Latia fine,” Latia said. And she shook her arm for proof.
“So I see. You have angels to thank for that.”
“Angels?”
Acelina gestured to the two nearby gabriem with a wing claw.
Without missing a beat, Latia hopped over to the angels, hooves clopping on rock in the quiet, and she smiled up at them with her big goblin smile.
She hugged the man. He froze, blinked down at the little lady, looked at David, blinked several times, and blinked down at the tiny creature squeezing his legs again. Unsatisfied, Latia did the same for the woman, squeezed her legs and armor, and smiled up at her.
“Humans say thank you, right?” Latia asked. “Latia says thank you.”
She might as well have slapped the two angels with the looks they gave her. They said nothing, just froze, like deer in headlights.
Clicking up a storm, Daoka hopped over to the angels, gave them a similar smile with her much more human mouth, picked up the tiny gremla, hugged and squeezed her, and carried her around. A celebration. The Las followed her, marched around in a circle, and cheered military style, weapons up.
“Impressive,” Moriah said. She joined the two gabriem and gestured back with her one wing. “Third rank?”
“Yes,” the man said. “I ... am drained. She was on the cusp of joining the Great Tower.”
The gabriem beside him rolled her eyes. Maybe she didn’t think demons went to the Great Tower in death, whatever that even meant.
“Thank you,” David said. He got up, ignored the ache in his muscles demanding he sit down, and held out his hand. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, I ... thank you.”
The man blinked down at him again, but shook his hand, armor to skin. David was hopelessly defenseless without his armor at this close. They could kill him instantly.
He shook the woman’s hand, too, and made sure they got to see his eyes. Mia always said when his mental walls got torn down, he wore his emotions on his face. With any luck, they’d only need a single glance to see what kind of man he was.
The woman sighed, nodded, and shook his hand.
“Saar was right.”
“Saar. Fuck.” David ran his fingers through his hair and looked down past the battle. The aliens had all dissolved. Nothing remained of them, not their tentacles, their glistening onyx skin, their strange black and purple armor or robes, their white blood, their tridents, nothing. But down the side of the mountain, past the closed canyon, were blood, guts, and bodies.
Red feathers littered the battlefield.
On the battleground, some wings moved around. Gabriem, looking for anyone still alive. Even from a distance, a squint was enough to show the angels’ posture hanging low. They weren’t finding anyone.
“David?” Tacharius’s voice. David looked back and up. The incubus and the others had gotten mostly out of the way, but they couldn’t climb any higher. The Scar mountainside was not nearly as kind as Death’s Grip’s mountains.
“David.” Ezekiel’s voice.
David clenched his eyes shut, sucked in a breath, stood tall, and faced back down the mountain toward the angels. All the gabriem had landed, and there were less than he thought. Maybe less than forty. And behind them stood Ezekiel, pretty boy, wounded, and covered in blood.
The angel of death slowly walked up the cliff side. The gabriem parted for him, but it wasn’t respect David saw in their eyes. The angels had military strictness, but he could see the subtle apprehension there. Maybe fear. Maybe ... disgust?
“Ezekiel,” David said. He forced himself to stay standing, but god damn, he wanted to sit down and pass out. “Still going to kill me?”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, the two gabriem who’d saved Latia stepped toward David, drew an arrow from their quivers, knocked it, aimed at the ground, and faced the reaper. Like soldiers with weapons down, but safeties off.
Not just them, but the rest of the gabriem flew to David’s side, two enormous lines that stuck out at an angle so it was like Ezekiel was walking down a funnel, two walls of gabriem. Each had an arrow knocked, pointed down, and their hard glares were on the reaper.
Ezekiel didn’t so much as frown as he looked around at the gabriem ready to shoot him down. He looked exhausted, bleeding, and even panting a little. Not the best look for a so-called angel of death.
“Maybe some other time,” he said.
Caera prowled ahead, put herself between David and the reaper, and stood up. Ezekiel was seven feet tall. She was eight, and she growled down at the smaller man who could probably cut her in half with a glance.
“Why don’t you take your power,” she said, “and go deal with the rider? He’s been hunting us for weeks.”
“The rider is not my concern.”
She snorted and hit the ground with her tail. “Or you’re not strong enough to kill him. You can fly, and decimate armies, but not even you can stop him.”
Ezekiel looked up at the tregeera, sighed, and tilted his head enough to look past her at David.
“The matters of Hell are not my concern. The rider is not my concern. But the unmarked is a larger issue than simply Hell alone. That is why I investigated when I saw the battle.” He smiled, a small and weak expression. “For now, I take my leave. We will meet again, David. I will tell my kin of you, and maybe they will agree your life should be spared. Or maybe it will trigger civil war.” He stepped back and turned. “And regardless, I cannot guarantee they will listen, if you reach the Forgotten Place.”
He took off. David got his mouth open to say something, and so did a few other people, Moriah included, but Ezekiel took to the air and didn’t look back.
“Fuck me,” David said. “Caera, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”
She got on all fours and looked back at him, half smiling. “He was weakened from the fight.”
“I mean, still.” He combed his fingers through her short dreadlocks, and she pushed her head into his palm. “And, uh, you guys, and girls.” He nodded to the two rows of gabriem putting their bows and arrows away. “Thank you.”
A gabriem stepped up, another man. “Saar declared you were to live. After seeing the invaders for ourselves, and their ... need to kill you, we have to admit ... the reality.”
A woman stepped up. “A cruel reality.”
“Yes,” another gabriem said. “The council wants you dead, unmarked. They want all the unmarked who head toward the False Gate to die. But...”
And another stepped up. “But we saw what happened. As Moriah said, the council gives orders, but has not spoken, has not explained. We have no choice but to doubt them.”
Several angels winced. They might as well have said ‘lose your faith’.
David fell. Exhaustion swamped him, and he collapsed back, straight into Moriah’s arms.
“David?” she asked, looking down at him.
It was so weird seeing her not angry. Her red eyes definitely didn’t have the empathy, softness, or charm of the gabriem, but without the furrowed brow, she almost looked weird. Apparently she noticed, her hard eyes returned, and she helped him stand.
“I’m fine. Just exhausted.” He gestured to the angels. “And I’m really ... really sorry. I didn’t want to fight you. I didn’t. And ... What now?”
The gabriem looked between each other, shared a few words, and settled on the man who spoke up first before.
“Now we go back to Azoryev. We must speak of what we’ve learned.”
“I ... don’t suppose you can just fly me to the Forgotten Place? I mean, you know that’s my goal.”
Each gabriem shook their heads.
“I am sorry,” the first said. “The council may not speak, but they give orders. Several of the islands defend the Forgotten Place at their command, and all the river Styx. Tens of thousands of angels, all hours of day and night, all with one goal. No one approaches the island.”
“Have any landed?” Moriah asked.
“No. The island remains locked in storm as it always has.”
David blinked. The island was locked in a storm that bad? He knew there were black storm clouds over the middle of Hell at all times, but strong enough to stop angels?
Of course, Moriah hadn’t told him that. She’d probably spent every night arguing with herself about if helping David was really the right choice. Until now.
“Moriah,” the gabriem said. “Saar—”
“Told me to stay with the unmarked. I will.”
The gabriem smiled, nodded, and one by one, they turned and took to the sky.
At least until Jes stepped up. “Whoa whoa! You finally gonna stop trying to kill us?”
The first gabriem turned back, hovering several feet in the air. “We will spread the word to spare your life, and your sister’s, but you must understand, Heaven is divided on this. Such a thing has not happened since—”
“Since the First War, I get it. But I mean you bunch, right now. You’re all just gonna leave? We could use some help!”
“Perhaps,” Laoko said. “Perhaps not. More angels would be yet harder to keep hidden. We are trying to sneak across Hell, not battle our way through it.”
The hovering gabriem sighed and gestured to Moriah.
“And you, Moriah. How do you feel? How many demon hearts have you eaten?”
Demon hearts? David looked back at Moriah. All the demons did. And the angel lowered her gaze.
“It affects me, but I am still me.”
The gabriem sighed and nodded. “We will aid all we can, unmarked. But understand our position. We cannot simply stay in Hell and help. How would we feed? Slaughtering demons regularly, and tainting ourselves? And each gabriem who survived must share this tale. I am sorry, but we cannot spare—”
“I will stay.” A gabriem hovered down from the group. A woman, with emerald eyes. The man shook his head, but she raised a hand and shook her head in return. “I will bear the taint. They need someone who can heal their wounds, Jebediah.”
“And who will heal your wounds?”
She smiled and patted the man’s shoulder. “We have lost hundreds of us today alone. What is one more?”
David gulped. Okay, the gabriem were supposed to be the nice angels, but that was some fucking dark resolve.
“That is,” she continued, “if the unmarked will have me.”
“Uh, me? I’m not in charge. I—”
Daoka clicked and thumped his shoulder.
“Agreed,” Laoko said. “Ultimately, we defer to your judgment, young soul. You are in charge, of the journey at least. What do you wish?”
“What do I wish?” He wished he wasn’t in charge. He wished he was back in his room, masturbating to increasingly weird 3D porn. He wished...
He looked back to Latia. She stood with her sisters, all of them smiling up at the hovering angels, their big eyes almost glistening with wonder.
“I would love some help,” he said.
The gabriem hovered down, smiled, and nodded. More than nodded, she bowed, and with a small puff of gold light, her bow and quiver vanished.
“I am Tsila, Gabriem of Azoryev, third rank under Sa...” She stood up straight, and her smile faltered for a moment. “I have witnessed the truth, and I must help.”
Well. Holy shit. David smiled and held out his hand.
She shook it.
“Come on,” Tacharius said. “There has to be some hearts left. Let’s go—”
“If there are any angel hearts left,” Moriah said, “the gabriem fetched them and returned them to Heaven so their energy can join the great waters. Or they ate them themselves, if necessary.”
“But—”
Moriah, no longer wearing her armor, turned and aimed a finger at the incubus.
“You will never eat angel flesh. Understand me?”
“You eat demon flesh.”
“Not by choice.” She turned and marched along.
Tacharius sighed, slowed down, and rejoined the group in the back. Smaller, without Timaeus, or Koralex.
David held onto Caera’s spikes as the group started down the Vasil’s Mouth entrance into the Scar ravine. Back to the old formation, more or less, David on Caera’s back, Las and Acelina directly behind him, Jes and Daoka ahead of him, and Laoko at the head of the group. Moriah walked at the head, too, different from usual. And Tsila walked with her, also no longer wearing her armor.
Tsila was visually a bit of a surprise. From what David had heard from Moriah, gabriem took care of the souls of Heaven a lot more directly than the rapholem or mikalim. They counselled them, played with them, and had sex with them. A lot. Naturally, that’d put the mental image of ridiculously busty ladies in his head.
Tsila was slim. As tall as Moriah, so a few inches shy of seven feet tall, like Jes, but a petite and slim body and small breasts; her potram clothes were even skimpier than Moriah’s and left nothing to the imagination. She looked Indian, and was absurdly beautiful. All angels seemed to have Earth-based looks, other than the eyes, and Tsila looked Indian with tan skin, and a long braided ponytail of dark hair that reached her butt. Where’d it go when she wore her armor?
“Moriah,” Laoko said. “I would have you explain yourself.”
Uh oh.
Moriah looked up at the tetrad next to her, face heavy. “You heard Saar.”
“I did. I also know I mentioned Galon’s name before, and you did not say you killed him.”
“Why would I have? Would knowing I killed him have changed the journey?”
“It might have.”
Moriah shook her head. “I have nothing left to say, demon. I made a grave mistake, and I wrestle with that guilt every day.” She gestured back to David. “I devote my life to this little boy. He—”
“Hey, I’m not ... that little.” And he was an adult, damn it.
Moriah looked back at him, grunted, and rolled her eyes. Attempt to lighten the mood: failed.
“I dedicate my life to this young soul, demon,” she said. “It belongs to him, as part of my penance.”
Sighing, Laoko let her upper arms droop. “He was my friend, angel, one of the few who thought well of demons.”
Moriah stopped. Everyone stopped on a dime.
“What do you want me from, demon? What else can I do to make up for my errors than give my life?”
Laoko glared down at her. “What could a demon possibly want from someone who did her wrong?”
“I don’t know! You’re a demon. What would I know—”
Tsila leaned in, whispered something to Moriah, and stepped back. A bucket of ice water would have been more gentle, from the way Moriah winced.
“I ... I...” The angel looked down and clenched her eyes. That wasn’t rage. That was painful acceptance. “I am sorry”.
Laoko blinked down at her and snuck a glance David’s way. What could David do? He was just as dumbfounded. Angels probably apologized once in a blue moon, and never to a demon.
“Thank you,” Laoko said.
Several demons gasped.
“Oh shut up,” Jes said, spinning on the crowd following them.
Laoko adjusted her long dreadlocks and gave Moriah a deep nod.
“I have lost much, angel. You may not think that matters to demons, but it does. You mourn for your comrades. I mourn for mine. Do not assume our lust for battle somehow detracts from us. We are different in some ways, but not all.” She gently pat the ground with a hoof, and her usual, sneaky little smiles returned.
“This is adorable,” Tsila said. “Last time I visited Hell, the demons I met were never this wonderful.”
Caera approached, taking David along with her. “You’ve been to Hell before?”
“Oh yes. I wouldn’t have agreed to stay if I didn’t have at least some familiarity with it.”
David raised a hand. The crowd got moving. It wasn’t the reason he’d raised his hand; he’d just wanted to ask a question. But the group kept their eye on him, all the time, and any action he made was met with an action from them. He groaned.
“Where have you been before?” he asked.
Tsila smiled brightly. Oh, there was the gabriem part of her. Her facial features had a softness to them that made him want to relax, and her smile was perfect and disarming.