Chapter I: Taming the Beast

Setting: a remote desert in the kingdom of Jordan, 2016 A.D.

More quiet than the wind whispering over the desert tides, the Beast stalked its hunted prey. Scorching and unforgiving beneath the unrelenting sun of daytime, the shifting sands of these ancient dunes turned silent and mysterious once night fell. A waxing gibbous moon, only a few nights away from bursting full with light, shone brightly from above with no artificial illumination within a hundred miles to dull its strange lunar power. The lizards and venomous snakes of day had since been cooped by the more craven predators of evening. The usual spiders, scorpions, and wild dogs hunted along these night sands along with an infernal presence that lent a disquieting sense of wrongness to this natural desert habitat.

A desert warrior kicked his camel in the belly to urge the recalcitrant beast to more urgent speed. He wore long, clean robes of purest white that swayed around his sand-crusted boots as he rode the reluctant ungulate hard on the heels of his target. He carried a pathetic gun and an ineffective sword at his sides with the proud bearing of a doomed man. The bearded Bedouin mistakenly thought himself the hunter tonight but he would discover tragically too late that he was the Beast’s intended quarry for this evening. The Beast revealed her presence to the holy warrior from a distance before concealing herself and masking her scent. She led the brave but foolhardy warrior on a futile chase across miles of desert all while she slyly doubled back around and flanked him from the south.

The hardened warrior wore his black beard and hair long and unkempt to conceal handsome, almost feminine features that proved a constant and unwelcome distraction before he converted and became a religious man. His face and skin were tanned dark brown after years spent beneath a harsh desert sun surviving in sparse, unforgiving conditions. Despite the wear and tear of the arduous life he’d chosen, the warrior’s eyes were so dark and beautiful and his facial structure so delicate he sometimes appeared to be wearing the makeup of a painted woman.

The holy man belonged to an ancient religious order that with the blessing of several generations of Jordanian monarchy had claimed this desert as their home for centuries upon centuries. The sect spent all their hours working and praying day after scorching day in one of the most inhospitable environments known to mankind, fervent in their belief that suffering and hardship would lead to ultimate salvation. This warrior had been sent by his mullah to investigate dread rumors of a fell beast that stalked the sands of their ancestral homeland during the night.

Recently, livestock owned by peasants living in the impoverished villages nearby had been slaughtered indiscriminately but strangely they were never consumed. Not even the many scavengers of the desert dared to pick at the desiccated corpses of these shredded goats and sheep. The strewn-apart bodies left behind deep, claw-like gashes and bite marks that originated from some creature unknown. Innocents had disappeared from their homes without a trace as well and anyone caught alone in the desert after dark was never seen again. Despite his strict religious beliefs, Abdalrahman al-Saqit was not a superstitious man. Normally he would have dismissed these stories as the baseless fears of a poor, primitive people but this case aroused his suspicion for reasons he couldn’t quite express to the other peers in his sect.

Abdalrahman hopped gingerly off his camel and tucked the pleats of his robe back while he spent a moment of rest. He gulped a long drink of water from the bladder hanging at the pommel of his beast of burden’s saddle before replacing the stopper. While he drank, al-Saqit’s sharp eyes scanned across the endless hills of sand with sight aided by the blessed moonlight.

Abdalrahman was certain he saw something moving out there earlier, prowling obliviously among the still dunes. The shape he glimpsed hiding in the shadows was dark and monstrous yet still vaguely human in appearance. Al-Saqit was renowned among his order for being able to track a hare across miles of desert but whatever this thing was, it had thrown Abdalrahman off its trail.

When he heard a noise from behind, Al-Saqit spun around quick as a desert cat and lifted his aged AK-47 from his hip with his finger the merest twitch away from depressing the trigger. The sighing voice he heard was little more than a whisper on the wind but it almost sounded like a woman plaintively calling his name. But when he turned and aimed his weapon, Abdalrahman found nothing there. No sound except the pounding of his heart against his chest. Despite the day’s lingering, oppressive heat which still refused to surrender to the relief of night’s chill, Abdalrahman shivered.

Abdalrahman hated the camel that he rode in on so much that he named it Osama after that idiotic and faithless mass murderer. The hatred must therefore be mutual since Osama started stomping its hooves and bleating fearfully before trotting off into the desert like a coward. Abdalrahman cried out in alarm and began to give chase but the stupid beast easily outran his futile attempts to keep pace with it. The foolish animal had never behaved in such a way before despite its idiocy. Now Abdalrahman had a dangerous, miles-long water-less trek through the desert to look forward to. What could have provoked such a sudden and unexpected reaction from the well-trained beast?

Al-Saqit cursed the stupidity of animals as he whipped back around in a fury only to find the answer to the question of his mount’s desertion. Standing only a few paces away, the Ifrit possessed a distinctively feminine figure with large, shapely twin bulges growing from its chest, wide, flaring hips meant for bearing children, and throat-clenchingly perfect curves narrowing and widening from the monster’s torso on down to its slim waist and thighs. The prominent vee between the creature’s legs strongly resembled a woman’s vagina if female organs were instead drooling maws of sharp needle-like teeth that leaked thick black mucous from their slimy opening.

A chill passed through Abdalrahman as he quickly raised his weapon up to his sight. Abdalrahman considered himself a brave man but the terrifying sight of this demonic creature slowly approaching him as the moon illuminated its horrific profile from behind and its heavy claws pounding the sand beneath its taloned feet caused Abdalrahman’s knees to quake and his spine to shiver. Even more distressing for the chaste warrior-priest was the fact that Abdalrahman had never seen a woman naked before and now he was viewing a feminine monster that wore no covering over its private areas. Even as his bowels turned to ice, al-Saqit experienced an unfamiliar tugging sensation in his crotch as blood flowed unbidden to his flaccid genitals.

Besides its face and that one soft, moist location between its legs, a red-and-black shell-like carapace armored the entirety of the creature’s skin. A long, lashing red tail waved back and forth playfully between the Ifrit’s slim, muscular thighs. This prehensile appendage was lined with barbs that gradually increased in size and keenness before finally resolving into a long, wicked curved spike that grew from the end of the Beast’s tail. Sharp black horns curled out of either side of the Beast’s scalp and twisted their way down to highlight eyes which were as black and depthless as the creature’s hell-spawned soul. The Beast’s hands and feet were enormous, razor-sharp claws with deep, sinuous black lines running along where its veins and tendons should be. Hard, spindly yellow hairs grew from the Ifrit’s scalp like wires that fell down the creature’s back to its waist. A disturbingly gorgeous red visage with smooth, dimpled cheeks and full black lips hinted at the striking beauty the demon possessed beneath its evil, twisted form.

Abdalrahman brandished his AK and prepared to fire upon the nightmare horror advancing toward him. The Ifrit lifted its claw in his direction and as its fingers curled tightly together the metal of the gun al-Sadir held instantly heated to such a degree that the weapon glowed bright red. Abdalrahman screamed and dropped the gun as his fingers and palms blistered instantly. As the demon continued its methodical approach, the desert warrior wrapped his ruined hands in cloth and drew his scimitar in desperation. The Beast seemed amused by this gesture.

Abdalrahman screamed a prayer to Allah as he rushed toward the demon with his sword readied in an offensive stance. Of the members of his sect, al-Saqit was by far the deadliest and most skilled in the use of a blade. It was like he had been chosen precisely for this sort of test. But when Abdalrahman attacked the demon she used the unnatural shielding of her arms to easily block aside every slash and thrust of his sword. Blow after blow shot off sparks as each of his attempts to penetrate the Ifrit’s impenetrable skin glanced harmlessly off her armor. She screamed and laughed like an insane girl-child as she toyed with Abdalrahman for awhile but eventually once she grew weary of his senseless and ineffective violence her claw reached out to snatch al-Saqit by his throat.

Abdalrahman lifted his weapon high to strike one final blow before the claw around his neck could squeeze his life away or simply rend his throat apart. But his strength failed him during his downward slice and the edge of the scimitar barely cut through the armor of the Beast’s shoulder before she grabbed the blade of his weapon and tore it painfully from Abdalrahman’s scorched hands. Without even scratching her claw the demon wrapped its palm around the edged portion of the sword and then flung it far and high through the air so the sword spun and then fell point-first and became buried nearly to the hilt in the soft sand.

Abdalrahman thrashed helplessly and struck futilely at the demon’s arms as she pulled him so near that he could smell rank breath scented by the taste of countless human corpses. He stared straight into the demon’s eyes and became lost within the fathomless abyss of those twin pools of darkness. The warrior’s eyes turned blank and drool dripped from his mouth to his chin as all conscious thought evaporated from his mind. The Beast’s mouth widened into a horrifying razor-toothed grin as al-Saqit ceased to resist her. The same black slime of corruption that leaked from every opening of the demon’s body seeped between the creature’s pointed teeth and poured down from its mouth in rivulets as the Ifrit smiled maliciously at its conquered foe.

The Ifrit stunned Abdalrahman next by pulling his mouth to her plump, surprisingly soft lips. The demon forced Abdalrahman’s lips apart and spat her black corruption into his mouth, using her long tongue to spread her slime liberally over every surface inside his orifice. Against his will, Abdalrahman felt his tongue moving against the Beast’s and happily partaking in the corruption of his own body. The mouth of the demon held no flavor except for the taste of sweet surrender.

The Beast broke away from its sloppy, lingering kiss and relinquished the crushing grip around the warrior’s throat. Abdalrahman dropped immediately to his knees and gasped for air as the demon spoke to him for the first time. She possessed the chiming, melodious lilt of an attractive young woman but the very edge of her voice held a deep underlying growl that lent an air of menace to her speech.

“You are one of the Protectors of the Holy Desert,” the multitudinous voice spoke in perfect Arabic. “I wondered when your brethren would send one of their order to challenge me. I suppose you must be the strongest and bravest warrior the sect has to offer. Just as I desired.”

The demon grabbed the long locks of Abdalrahman’s hair roughly in its claw and pulled back on his scalp so his head tilted upward. Even if he tried, the proud warrior couldn’t possibly avert his eyes from those pure midnight pools that drew him in like quicksand. If he had Abdalrahman might have noticed the sopping, diseased flow of darkness leaking from the creature’s spindly genitals down past its armor-plated thighs.

“Your sect of warrior-priests swear a vow of celibacy, do they not?” the Ifrit wondered aloud using the voice of a sweet and lovely young girl. “That will be the first of your order’s scriptures that you and I shall vanquish together.”

The Beast gripped its claws in the tangles of Abdalrahman’s dark hair and shoved the hapless warrior face first into her putrescent crotch. She held his screaming, protesting mouth against her vile sex until Abdalrahman’s lips and tongue weaved their way past hard-ridged labia into the demon’s sticky, slime-ridden cunt.

“Lick, you pathetic human!” the Ifrit commanded as its song like voice assumed a deeper and more vicious growl. “Lick me with haste before I decide that limp tongue of yours is not worth keeping!”

The Beast exhaled the moan of a satisfied harlot and worked her spiny hips and pelvis against her captive male’s mouth as he unfurled his tongue and used its length to lap at the thick black fluids seeping continuously from the demon’s foul cunt. The liquid focus of the demon’s corruption and filth drained into the warrior’s mouth in such a prodigious quantity that the slime overflowed and left dark spillage permeating his cheeks and beard. The Ifrit wrapped her tail around Abdalrahman’s midsection possessively, the barbed whip scoring shallow puncture wounds all along his back as she claimed him.

Abdalrahman’s face turned ashen and then pale with terror as the minuscule awareness still remaining to him perceived with horror his ultimate downfall as he plunged into darkness. Yet despite his revulsion al-Saqit’s mouth never ceased its exertions and his slurping only increased in noise and ferocity as he loudly swallowed all of the demon’s corrupt offering.

“On your back, weakling,” the Beast growled as she tore the disoriented man away from her crotch with enough force to pull his hairs out at the root before pushing him backward onto sands still warm from the fleeting radiance of daylight. Dark, evil fluids were smeared across Abdalrahman’s face and the trickles rolled down his chin to drip about his neck.

The Beast ripped through the layers of Abdalrahman’s robes, covering the pure white cloth in smears of black demonic fluids as she sought feverishly for his manhood. When she discovered the firmness of his prick she whipped his penis out and let the cool night air wash over a fleshy rod that glistened wet with precum. The Beast laughed to find his cock already rock-hard from partaking of her vile communion but she decided she would do her new thrall one better before they consummated their unholy union.

The demon sank to the ground and slithered between Abdalrahman’s legs to lick from the wrinkled bottom of his hairy testicles all the way up his firm shaft to the slit indentation of his meatus using a wagging tongue as long, thick and wild as that of a canine’s. The Beast kept lapping at Abdalrahman’s prick over and over until she’d completely bathed it in her slimy drool while the holy man writhed uncomfortably before her. She wrapped her forked snakelike tongue around the head of his shaft and opened her mouth to consume the warrior’s towering prick in one swift swallow. Abdalrahman groaned and shuddered uncontrollably as the hideous creature’s burning wet mouth slobbered and sucked wantonly upon his virgin penis. His hands hung limply at his sides, as adamant as his cock in their refusal to obey the call to action by their owner.

With a coughed-up gush of acrid slime spewing messily from her throat, the Beast spat out a cock that throbbed so ardently its every quaking pulse pained Abdalrahman in his scrotum and prostate. She straddled the hapless warrior’s aching crotch and used the fell strength of her claws wrapped around Abdalrahman’s wrists to pin his burnt, blistered hands against the sand as she climbed up and mounted him. The Beast bobbed her hips and thighs up and down in search for the jutting spearhead of his aroused heat. She quickly located the point of his cock using the sensitive nerves of her wandering cunt.

Once her black weeping hole had been positioned just above the tip of Abdalrahman’s prick, the Ifrit swiftly dropped her pelvis so his entire cock disappeared instantly inside her like her cunny had consumed him whole. The outside of the Beast’s skin was all hard shells and sharp edges that made the subservient warrior cry out in pain as his blood-hard shaft was gashed and scored by his labored entry. But as soon as he entered the blessed center inside the Beast, Abdalrahman’s virgin cock was encompassed by a tunnel of the most incredible wetness and softness though the heat within the Ifrit burned him like fire. Abdalrahman’s rapturous cries split the still night air as he experienced the most wondrous sensation of his entire life.

Al-Saqit grunted like a beast as his new master slowly lifted her wondrous center off his prick before sinking him back within her slimy depths. The demon’s insides clenched a hold of his cock in a vice-like grip like an animal’s jaws closing around the throat of its prey. The Beast panted and wagged her forked tongue back and forth as she held Abdalrahman down and happily bounced her cunt up and down a staff of flesh that surged mightily with arousal. The tightening grip of the Beast’s cunt tugged and pulled at the skin of Abdalrahman’s untested prick and delivered to him forbidden sensations that could only be described as either heavenly or hellish.

Al-Saqit moaned helplessly as his virgin cock became soaked in gushing black fluids that seeped through the slit of his penis and entered his body. He had never known such power, such exquisite sensation, such utter bliss. The Beast stole more of his innocence and purity every time she lifted herself from his penis and then drove herself back down upon him. All the while Abdalrahman stared transfixed up at the alien eyes of the demon looming above him.

“Your mullah is a fool,” the Beast growled as she rode his puny, frail human body hard. She quite enjoyed Abdalrahman’s utter submission contrasted with the way his aroused saber penetrated her so deeply. Her mask slipped so her snarling voice resembled that of a rabid beast more than any woman’s. “Aiding those foreigners in their genocidal war upon your true brothers of Islam? That faithless dotard must be removed before your people are all destroyed.”

Abdalrahman nodded his head in agreement with the truths this Ifrit spoke of. Slowly, subtly his bouncing hips began to thrust his prick up inside of her in time with the Ifrit’s regular up-and-down rhythms. She bared her teeth in a terrible, triumphant smile as Abdalrahman became a more active participant in their coupling.

Why does my order waste their time fighting other Muslims instead of waging holy war against the Western devils who have invaded our sacred homeland? Abdalrahman wondered. Who is the true enemy?

“The other tribes who live in this desert,” the Beast continued. “They do not respect you. They beg and squeal for your protection and are happy enough allowing your warriors to die in service to them but what have they ever given you for tribute? You must take the rewards that rightfully belong to you for ensuring their safety. Torture and behead their men before enslaving their women and children. Take a dozen wives for your own so you will have many slaves to please a great, important man such as yourself. Do it in the name of Allah.”

Abdalrahman couldn’t agree more. How many of his brothers in the order died rescuing ungrateful villagers from bandits and terrorists? A stringy old goat and a ladleful of fouled water. That was all the reward they received for their sacrifices. No extra coin to spend, no women to please them, and no slaves to ease their daily burdens. Al-Saqit must break all the stupid and senseless vows held by his sect so his brothers might finally enjoy the fruits of their labors and make the dangers they were constantly subjected to worth the risk.

The Beast heaved with increasingly satisfied grunts as Abdalrahman used his entire lower body to thrust hard up into her every time the open grave of her cunt plunged back down the entirely of his cock. Her tongue extended from her mouth long and loosely as she panted and the way she wagged her tongue lasciviously back and forth made it clear she derived sick pleasure from subjugating this weaker male. Her eyes burned with fiery intensity as her hips, pelvis, and cunt worked in concert to deliver Abdalrahman to his climactic destiny.

“You must destroy these foreigners who dare to defile the sovereignty of your sacred homeland,” the demon preached with a deep, bestial snarl now that she had forgone any pretense of womanly seduction. She rode Abdalrahman hard enough to make his cock ache while she spoke poison into his vulnerable mind.

“The white devils will always return to exploit your resources no matter what deals you make or treaties you sign. They are safe in their rich lands sitting atop the highest towers, well-insulated from the destruction they wreak upon your people. You must take this fight to them rather than allow them to choose the battleground. You must recruit and train true believers willing to die so they can attack your enemy where they feel the most comfortable. Someplace populated and public, where their families are made as vulnerable to bullets and bombs as yours have been. Only once they’ve held their dead children in their arms will they know what true faith and devotion looks like. Then they will have no choice but to capitulate.”

Abdalrahman saw the truth now. The order must cleanse this land and make it pure again for the kingdom of Allah. Christians, Jews, Yazidis, Kurds, and any other trespassers must be swept away until all foreign influences were eliminated.

Al-Saqit gasped as the Beast’s already constrictive tunnel clenched tighter around his penis and pulled at his prick as if the suction were trying to draw the seed from him. He whimpered at the unfamiliar sensations of pulsing and trembling inside his penis until with a loud cry he fired a thick load of years-repressed ejaculate straight into the womb of the Ifrit, the sweet desert angel who had shown him the light of true faith. Abdalrahman thought he might cum forever as his body kept pumping unending streams of ropy sperm until the flow receded as his male organs became totally drained. He never broke eye contact with the pure black orbs of the creature’s gaze throughout their copulation. With a final spurt of creamy-white semen into the Beast’s foul, slime-ridden snatch Abdalrahman’s tense body relaxed and he threw his head back with a satisfied groan.

The Beast smiled its black, razor-toothed grin as she held the warrior down and used her cunt to steal more than just his seed. The holy man’s purity, innocence, and even his very soul belonged to the demon now to use as she saw fit. The Ifrit cackled like a witch as she tore open the front of Abdalrahman’s robe to expose his hairy chest whereupon she marked him with deep scratches using the tips of her clawed talons. Thin bloody lines across Abdalrahman’s pectorals composed a demonic rune of ownership that permanently tagged this hapless human male as her own. Underneath the thick carapace covering the Beast’s chest and abdomen, the exact same marking had been seared onto the breasts of the human host possessed by this demon.

“Mine,” the Beast purred triumphantly.

Abdalrahman climbed to his feet in a daze, his erect penis still black with the demon’s fluids and his chest howling with pain as his blood soaked through the front of his tainted white clothing. With his stupid, cowardly mount probably still running in terror the warrior would have to begin the long, arduous journey home on foot. Abdalrahman didn’t even glance in the Ifrit’s direction as he limped away. As far as he was concerned, no such creatures existed. True evil walked among the faithful during the brightest hours of day, it did not prowl unseen in the dead of night.

Abdalrahman al-Saqit, Venerated Protector of the Holy Desert, had already devised so many plans to cull the many evildoers in his midst. All the infidels and unbelievers must pay in blood for their insolence and blasphemy. Abdalrahman yanked his sword out of the sand as he walked by and rested the blade across his shoulder as he began his long journey home, totally uncaring of the flaring pain in his red, blistered hands as his palms gripped the hilt of his scimitar. He left the machine gun behind. Abdalrahman’s sword of fire would cleanse and purify this land of every foreigner until their corpses piled higher than the tallest dune. And if any of his brethren disagreed with his methods… well, then their hearts were obviously impure and must be cut from their chests while still beating so their corrupt souls might be cleansed. Abdalrahman trekked through the desert back to his order with wild eyes that showed the mad glare of a fanatic.

The Beast stood perfectly still, her long blonde hair waving in the wind as she tracked Abdalrahman’s departure until his shrinking profile disappeared behind the farthest dune. She turned and looked out at the vast, moonlit emptiness that stretched in every direction while she searched and sniffed with her nose. Finally the Beast spoke.

“I smell you hiding out there, Queen of Darkness!” the demon hissed. “Your pathetic spells of concealment might fool these idiotic humans but they are ineffective against my kind. I scented your stench of death from miles away.”

A woman suddenly materialized out of thin air a few paces behind the Beast. The newcomer was strikingly beautiful with long, dark hair falling in waves down past her waist and a face as pale as the moonlight which only further emphasized her full, blood-red lips. Her brown eyes and sharp nose were in perfect proportion to the rest of her slim-cheeked face and not a single blemish marred her smooth, creamy-white skin.

The moonlit woman wore a flowing black dress hardly suited to this wilderness environment though at least her heavy lace-up boots provided some protection from the elements. While her cup was only modest in size, the dress drew attention to the woman’s bosom by splitting open in a wide swath from her collarbone right down the middle of her chest so her nipples were barely covered. The lycra material narrowed together just above her bellybutton to display a most generous quantity of bare skin. The tight cut of the bust pushed the woman’s breasts together and adhered skin-tight to her chest to emphasize her cleavage and prove she had some figure to boast of. Her breasts were comparable in size to two large, succulent oranges and the tight fabric clinging to her waist, hips, and thighs showed off an arse and legs worth dying for.

“So you’ve finally come to retrieve your sister?” the demon taunted with a most bestial and unpleasant voice as it turned to meet this unexpected interloper. “I’ve been waiting for this day. How did you locate me? You must have been searching for an era by now.”

“Longer even,” the witch answered in an imperious tone that signaled she was used to commanding others. “Fortunately, rumors of strange phenomena and unspeakable acts of violence and murder always follow in your wake.”

“Do you truly believe you can rescue her?” the demon asked with mocking incredulity. “I’ve inhabited this body longer than any other and will not part with it so easily. Your sister is mine and I will do with her whatever I please.”

“You will dispossess her body immediately,” the night-haired woman sternly ordered. “Or else prepare thyself for an eternity of pain.”

“An eternity of pain like what you’ve inflicted upon this world, Mirela Turenau?” the Beast asked as it used the voice of Mirela’s departed sister exclusively. The demon grinned with delight at the discomfort expressed in the narrowing of Mirela’s eyebrows and the tightening of her lips as she was reminded of her dear sister Bianca’s voice. “For as many atrocities as I’ve committed, they pale in comparison to your misdeeds.”

“Be that as it may,” Mirela admitted. “I’m not leaving here without that body.”

“But I’ve enjoyed inhabiting her husk so very much these last four-hundred years,” the Beast sighed plaintively while mimicking Bianca’s voice.

The demon reached down to fondle one of her shelled breasts while her other claw spread her thick, seeping black fluid all around her thighs and loins. The Beast forced her dagger-like fingernails into her cunt and savaged her own genitals.

“I’d never possessed a woman before until this perfect female specimen became my host and I must tell you that controlling Bianca has been the most delightful experience of all my long existence,” the Beast grunted with pleasure as it forced most of its claw inside itself. “So many men have sold their souls just for a sniff of this cunt. I adore being absolutely ravaged by cock while using your whore sister’s body.”

“Release her,” an enraged Mirela demanded. “Now. Or else suffer the consequences.”

The Beast sneered impudently at Mirela before suddenly throwing its claws up, the one limb recently embedded in its demonic cunt flinging dark fluids in Mirela’s direction. Mirela had readied herself for such an attack and she immediately lifted her arms and threw her hands forward to counter the infernal spell directed at her.

To any passing observer the sight would have been ludicrous: Two figures standing several feet apart and holding their arms up as they waved and gestured their hands back and forth through the air. But onlookers sensitive to the undercurrents of power invisible to most humans would have been horrified to observe such evil sorcery being tossed about so carelessly. If Mirela faltered for even a second the demonic magic employed by the Beast would flay all the skin from her body while still managing to keep her alive.

Mirela launched her own spells of attack at the Beast though their effectiveness was dulled by Mirela’s intent on subduing the creature rather than destroying it. The demon barely blocked these gales of force aside and the monster growled with frustration when it realized that Mirela’s power had increased substantially since the last time they faced each other centuries ago. Mirela barely survived that previous encounter, weakened as she was after winning her duel with the rival witch Vivianna. The destruction of the former Countess Turenau liberated the demon possessing Bianca’s body from Vivianna’s spell of binding and left the infernal creature free to visit torment and corruption upon this world.

Eventually the witch and the demon relented from the unleashing of sorcery when it became evident that neither could out duel the other with torrents of spell-casting. Both their chests heaved dramatically as they recovered from their exertions and neither wanted to be the first to make the next aggressive move. The Beast was the first to speak up.

“Do you still remember the times we made love, sweet Queen of mine?” the demon slyly wondered, no longer even trying to mimic the voice of her host. “Back when you stupidly thought I was still your sister? Or perhaps you simply enjoyed pretending. We fucked until the break of dawn with the blood and gore of innocents soaking our entire bodies red as we thrashed together and climaxed all over each other’s bodies.”

“An illusion I will fall prey to no longer,” Mirela countered. “I have no wish to consort with demon-kind ever again.”

“Ah, but you were always so deliciously creative and enthusiastic,” the Beast lamented. “So very eager to have a spine tail squirming deep in your cunt or to kneel in worship before my unholy temple and imbibe the fouled emissions of an infernal being. Shall we not lay in this sand and take pleasure from each other as we once did? I can even pretend to be your sister if you like.”

“Bianca,” Mirela demanded. “I want her back. Relinquish your control and return to the foul pit that spawned you at once or else face punishment unlike any you’ve experienced. Your choice.”

Without warning, the demon rushed toward Mirela on all fours and lunged at her. Mirela was not the only dark creature to level up during the previous centuries. She was momentarily stunned by the speed and strength exhibited by the ferocious Beast as it loped toward her with long, rapid strides of its muscled arms and legs. But Mirela’s reflexes had become so quick and controlled during her long life that time moved in slow-motion whenever she fought an enemy. She threw herself to the side to dodge the Beast as it leapt for her chest and she quickly swung back around to avoid the first of the demon’s strikes. Mirela lifted her arms in a martial stance and blocked aside the next several blows using her forearms. The strength of the Beast would have shattered the bones of mere humans but Mirela threw her wrists and elbows into the path of these frenzied attacks without breaking.

Even the formidable Queen of Darkness was not strong enough to emerge from such a convergence of fell powers unscathed. She couldn’t dodge or block the savage demon’s every attack and eventually its slashing claws circumvented her defenses. Razor-tipped talons tore at Mirela’s arms, thighs and stomach when her evasions failed, ripping open deep gashes and wounds. Fortunately for Mirela, her blood flowed differently from humans so bleeding out wasn’t an immediate concern.

The Beast rumbled with laughter as it observed the nearly incapacitating damage it had inflicted. Mirela gritted her teeth through the pain of her flesh being rent asunder and patiently waited for her next opportunity to strike. Arrogant in the certainty of its imminent victory, the Beast drew too near and Mirela immediately lashed out in a blur of speed to snatch her hands around both the demon’s wrists and hold them in an unbreakable grip. Demons were ancient, powerful beings but not necessarily the most intelligent.

“I know something, foul creature,” Mirela teased her opponent with an insolent smile.

“And what is that, Queen of decay?” the Beast growled before snapping its sharp jaws at Mirela mere inches away from biting her face off. The demon’s black spittle flew all over Mirela’s face and clothing as it struggled to free itself unsuccessfully from Mirela’s powerful grasp but Mirela stood her ground unyieldingly.

“Your true name,” Mirela spoke softly. “And with that, Zzazzazzural, I bind you. You should have listened and obeyed when I gave you the chance.”

An expression of fear was cast over the face of the Beast for the first time since engaging in combat with the vampire queen. The Beast tried wrestling free from Mirela’s grip but her efforts were to no avail as the vampire’s powerful grip held true. The demon’s claws fell slack and the creature began convulsing wildly before Mirela released its wrists and allowed the demon to collapse heavily to the ground.

The Beast, Zzazzazzural, Hell-spawn and Denizen of the Fiery Pit, laid on its back with all four misshapen limbs splayed out wide. Mirela knelt beside the creature and caressed the smooth portion of its face while the demon’s chest rumbled heavily in peaceful slumber. Even with her features twisted by the evilest kind of corruption, Mirela still recognized the beautiful woman imprisoned beneath that bestial visage.

“Oh, Bianca,” Mirela murmured sadly. “My sister, what have we done to you?”

xxxxx

Mirela worked her incantation slowly and carefully, waving her arms in rhythmic motions while trying to keep undistracted by the fearsome growls and thrashings of the Beast as it laid pinned to the altar by Mirela’s warding spells. Mirela spent weeks in the attempt to capture this awful creature after flying from her castle in Romania to Cairo, Egypt. If Eduard or Loredana had an inkling of what Mirela intended, they wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate her. She left her kin with some excuse about leaving Sidexes to inspect their many safe houses spread throughout Europe and to embark on a few blood hunts in foreign lands but Mirela could tell her subterfuge didn’t fool any of them. Lies came to Mirela as easily as breathing any more.

For over a century Mirela had searched fruitlessly for this escaped demon. Wherever the Beast appeared, discord and atrocities always followed in its wake. After a long, hidden absence, the Beast resurfaced during the Great War in Europe a hundred years before. The Beast continued from that war-ravaged continent to Russia and then on to the Far East before going dormant for decades once the creature realized something was tracking it. The trail went cold. But Mirela recently intercepted rumors of a creature in the Middle East whom locals had named ‘The Ifrit’. Bedouins living in the deserts bordering Israel and Jordan claimed that a demon living there was corrupting good men and turning them into religious fanatics who committed terrible acts in the name of Islam.

Hunting and then capturing the Beast had been difficult enough but transporting the heavy, unconscious creature to this sanctum proved more arduous than Mirela expected. Mirela had to drag the paralyzed demon for hours across miles of shifting sand until they reached this ancient Christian church. With as spent as she was from injury and exertion Mirela’s journey went slowly and laboriously.

The black stone chapel had been buried beneath the sand of this great desert for almost two millennia until recently a slow erosion unpacked the gathered dust and detritus of time to reveal the existence of this hallowed sanctuary. Several feet of sand were still piled up against the outside walls of the church and even after a complete excavation of the interior a thin film of coarse grain permeated the floors and furniture of the religious hall.

This church originated from the earliest era of Christianity when adherents to that faith still practiced monotheistic forms of mysticism and shamanism. Those early adopters to the burgeoning religion once possessed the wherewithal to deal with creatures such as the one Mirela delivered here and she planned to utilize the inherited knowledge and sanctity of this church. Mirela took care to cover every single cross and religious symbol visible within the chapel though it burned her fingertips and retinas to do so. She felt nervous almost to the point of hyperventilation being here. This was after all the first time Mirela had stepped inside any kind of church or holy place in nearly four hundred years.

The Beast roared angrily at Mirela and fought against the invisible bonds holding it fast to the altar. How did this pathetic witch, this vampiric bitch, learn my Hellname? Zzazzazural ranted in Mirela’s mind. Names, especially true ones, were powerful things in the demonic realms and to share your eponym with another was tantamount to relinquishing all control to them. The ferocious demon snarled in frustration and thrashed harder against Mirela’s enchantment but with its name binding it in place the Beast couldn’t break free.

Mirela’s body slicked wet with a nervous sweat that soaked through her spandex dress. Such perspiration was a rarity for her considering her usual unwavering poise plus the chronic chill she always endured during that interminable time between feedings. One momentary lapse in concentration and her binding spells would be interrupted, releasing the monstrous demon who would almost assuredly tear Mirela limb from limb before consuming her flesh while she still lived. Probably smiling the whole time while it did so too.

Mirela breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed her tightly sprung body as she concluded the incantation with a final wave of her hand. She stood back and observed with intense intrigue whether the ritual actually worked. Mirela learned the correctly process for performing an exorcism from ancient Hebrew and Christian texts but since this particular spell was a heavily modified version of that infamous rite she only hoped she had executed the hundreds of steps properly and in the right order. Mirela couldn’t overstate how strange it was for her to be performing a spell based upon white magic rather than black, though the source of Mirela’s power remained infernal in nature.

The Beast ceased its frantic thrashing and stared upward while its chest rose and fell with rapid, heavy breaths. Mirela covered her ears as the creature suddenly bellowed loud enough to shake the walls of the church and rattle the stained-glass windows. The demon rolled and flailed anew but now with a bright red light glowing through the platelets between the sizable mounds of its chest. The Beast lifted into the air by its chest and pelvis while its bound limbs remained pinned to the altar. The red light slowly withdrew from the Beast’s form and floated into the air high above as the demon slumped back down to the altar.

The glowing light flashed on and off faster and faster as it swirled in the air with a thin red mist now surrounding it. The blinking dot shrank progressively smaller and smaller until the glowing diminutive bead could have fit between the palms of Mirela’s hands. Mirela made a motion with her fingers like she was snuffing out a candle and the red light disappeared with only a silent scream that Mirela felt rather than heard announcing her triumph over the Beast. Even plunged into sudden darkness the sanctuary seemed brighter now that the evil spirit had been exorcised though not entirely banished.

“Please let this work,” Mirela prayed for the first time in centuries. “Please, for the love of God.”

The creature’s black eyes fluttered open and looked about the sanctuary with confusion before they settled upon Mirela standing before the twisted body on the altar. The expression on the Beast’s face softened and almost looked human when it recognized her. Mirela heard it speak with a pure, sweet, chiming voice rather than the snarling rasp it cursed Mirela with earlier. It was a voice Mirela thought she would never hear again.

“Mellie?”

Mirela gasped and her breath caught as Bianca uttered her old childhood nickname. She swallowed the nervous lump that had stuck in her gullet and answered her.

“I’m here, Bianca. Don’t be afraid.”

“Oh, Mellie,” Bianca wept. “It’s so good to hear your voice again.”

Mirela released her binding spell and crouched down to comfort and embrace Bianca while she sobbed inconsolably against Mirela’s shoulder. Feeling Bianca’s strong arms wrapped around her again made Mirela’s blackened, undead heart feel alive for the first time since… well, probably since her and Bianca last embraced all those years ago.

Portions of the demon’s carapace had already begun to flake away, revealing soft, pink skin underneath the cracked, crumbling armor. The majority of the red skin masking Bianca’s visage had already dissolved to reveal a gorgeous young face that looked just like an angel’s. Bianca had used the old Romanian dialect to converse with Mirela, a form of language Mirela hadn’t uttered in several human lifetimes.

Please don’t let this be another foul demon’s trick, Mirela prayed. Please let this be for real.

“Mellie, I feel such terrible pain.”

“I know, Bianca. I promise it will pass soon.”

Bianca disentangled herself from Mirela’s arms and gently pushed her away. She slowly sat up and inspected the interior of the sanctuary, her every movement odd-looking and awkward from exhibiting such human traits while she remained in a shell mostly infernal in composition. Bianca reached up and brushed her fingers against one of the curled horns twisting out of the side of her head before fearfully snatching her hand back down to her side.

“Where are we?” Bianca asked with a shiver. “How did we get here?”

“That is a very long story. Too long to tell in one night. What’s the last thing you can clearly remember?”

Bianca thought for a moment.

“We were in a castle. You, Loredana, Bela, and I. Castle Sidexes was the cursed name. A dark place full of horrors unimaginable. I left in the night to search for Loredana after she disappeared but only found vampires and ghouls instead. I always thought those old stories of the undead were the most idiotic nonsense…”

“Anything else?” Mirela gently prodded.

“I managed to kill that decrepit old Count named Turenau but was captured for my efforts. Oh Mellie, they did such terrible things to me. Things I don’t want to speak of…”

Bianca started to weep again, her thick black tears running down her hybrid human and demon face to stain the hands covering her shame and sorrow.

“You don’t have to speak of anything unpleasant,” Mirela assured her as she massaged the back of Bianca’s neck. “You don’t even have to remember. That’s all in the past now. Let’s leave it there and move on.”

“After that night, I recall nothing,” Bianca hesitated before continuing. “Except… I see these flashes of memory from afterward where I’m committing the most wretched, detestable acts again and again. Violence, murder, rape, cannibalism, corruption. It feels like I watched helplessly while someone else forced my body to perform these horrific misdeeds. I… I don’t think I’ve been myself for a long while, Mellie.”

“Truer than you know,” Mirela said. “Now let’s get you off this altar. You need to rest.”

“Yes,” Bianca agreed sleepily. “Rest…”

Mirela helped lift her weakened sister off the altar and practically carried her to the corner where Mirela had already laid out a sleeping bag, blanket, and pillow just in case her fortune turned this evening. Bianca sighed happily as she laid down in the bag and rested her weary head on the pillow. Mirela tucked her sister inside the sleeping bag then zipped up her covering before throwing the blanket over her.

Mirela felt a twinge in her dead heart as she gazed adoringly at the comforted, content look on Bianca’s gorgeous face. Was this electricity pulsing through her veins and heating her blood the thrill of sexual excitement? The surging emotions of requited love? Mirela couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so affected by the sight of another. Bianca was here! She was truly returned!

“I always thought I would be the one to save you,” Bianca murmured dreamily as she wavered in the struggle between her half-waking and half-sleeping states. “I dreamed of becoming your heroine so you might finally love me the way I loved you. The way I’ve yearned for since I was a child in awe of her beautiful older sister. Instead you were the who saved me, Mellie. I love you so very much. I’ve missed you terribly.”

Bianca started weeping again, her dark tears falling down her face like rivulets of ruined makeup. Mirela couldn’t remember her sister ever being this emotional but then again Mirela struggled to recall any details of her family prior to her turning. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the indescribable trauma Bianca had endured these many years but no matter how fragile Bianca’s state of mind Mirela vowed to use all her means to help Bianca overcome the damage inflicted upon her psyche.

“I love you too, Bianca,” Mirela replied as she soothed her tired sister with gentle strokes over her face and hair. “You have no idea how badly I missed you too. But there’s no need to cry any more, my love. I promise we’ll never again be apart. Forever we shall love and take care of each other. Is that not wonderful?”

The first whisper of a smile formed on Bianca’s cracked lips. The black skin surrounding her mouth was already peeling away to reveal luscious pink buds that enticed Mirela every time they pursed together.

“We will rest here for one day,” Mirela told her sister though she suspected Bianca wasn’t lucid enough to understand anything she said. “Then tomorrow night we are moving on.”

Mirela waited patiently until Bianca was fully asleep before retrieving a pack of syringes from a nearby knapsack. Bianca fidgeted and whimpered when Mirela stuck the needle in her arm but she was too far gone to be stirred awake by its prickled bite. Mirela depressed the plunger until the entire contents of the syringe had been injected into Bianca’s vein. The vial contained a carefully measured sedative with the precise dosage necessary to keep Bianca asleep for fifteen or more hours. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to have Bianca up and wandering around on her own while Mirela slept below. There was too much her sister didn’t understand yet and Mirela had to ensure that Bianca’s acclimation to this new world was carefully controlled.

“Sleep well, my beautiful darling,” Mirela sighed as she caressed Bianca’s hair and hummed a lullaby from their childhood into her ear. “My heart’s one true desire.”

Bianca’s hair gradually felt less rough and wiry as Mirela stroked her sister’s tresses and she was convinced if she worked the strands between her fingers long enough the antennae-like strings would dissolve into the golden locks of radiant hair that Mirela once adored. Bianca’s recovery was progressing faster than Mirela expected. One of the platelets on her left shoulder had crumbled and fallen off completely to reveal pale, pink-tinged skin beneath. Mirela stared down at her slumbering sibling and realized she still had yet to fully contend with the fact that after centuries of the most painful and desperate yearning the greatest love of Mirela’s life had been restored and was now lying naked before her.

Mirela’s reverie was interrupted when a beam of early morning sunlight broke precariously through the blue-shaded shard of the stained-glass window in the east section of the sanctuary. The errant ray expanded outward and filtered through the chapel as Mirela fearfully observed its slow, persistent migration. Before jumping to her feet, Mirela kissed Bianca on the pink skin next to her eyebrow and smiled at the familiar snoring and wheezing coming from her sister. She kept to the edges of the chapel to avoid the sunlight beaming into the sanctuary until she reached the staircase leading down into the crypt.

Mirela felt much more at home down here among the dusty, cobwebbed stones and monoliths and the dessicated skeletons of acolytes who had been dead for millennia. Now that she had privacy, Mirela undid the clasp on the back of her dress and peeled the bloody, skintight fabric down her chest and back before pulling down hard on the hem to rip the rest of her clothing off. She inspected the damage leftover from her battle with the Beast and tut-tutted over the claw marks that left sizable gashes across the middle of one of her favorite dresses.

Mirela wore only her knee-high lace-up boots and a sexy piece of lacey black panties beneath that shredded dress which made it easy for her to inspect the deep scratches across her abdomen right below where the claw marks on her ruined dress had been. Fortunately the lycra fabric soaked up most of the blood from that surface wound but if those claws dug just a little deeper into her gut Mirela would have been dragging her intestines back here along with the Beast. Always such a bother when that happens, those things spill everywhere. There were additional gashes along both her arms and across her right thigh but those wounds weren’t serious enough to warrant more than a mention. Mirela just needed a heavy dose of rejuvenating plasma and she would be fully restored by the time she woke tomorrow evening.

While nowhere close to the largest pair of tits in the world (she had always been woefully undersized compared to her buxom sisters) Mirela’s perky breasts performed healthy lifts and bounces as she went to retrieve the case she left secreted inside one of the ancient coffins. The interior of this custom-made case was preserved with advanced thermal technology but rather than keeping the contents cold, the case was designed instead to maintain the warm temperatures of several IV bags filled with blood as if the nourishing plasma had just recently been drained from the living.

Once Mirela formulated her theory that the Beast’s chosen lair was hidden in one of these Middle Eastern deserts she soon learned of this recently unearthed chapel. The dig site in and around the church was excavated by a company owned by Mirela and another one of her corporations negotiated an agreement with the Jordanian government that ensured all research undertaken at the ancient temple would be conducted by a private team of archaeologists. That team of course consisted of a single individual who only worked by night.

Since then Mirela had been using this remote ruin as her base of operations while she hunted the Beast, only returning here periodically to feed and to sleep in safety during the daytime. With the sparse, treacherous conditions of this vast desert surrounding her for fifty miles in every direction, there was no guarantee Mirela could scrounge up enough fresh food to sustain herself. As was her nature, Mirela undertook all necessary precautions to ensure her own survival.

Fortunate indeed that I finally encountered the Beast on this of all evenings, Mirela thought as she unsealed the stopper on her last bag of blood. I was so close to abandoning this quest out of necessity.

Mirela could last quite a few days without feeding but she would gradually grow weaker over time and doubtless would not have survived combat with the Beast if her strength was depleted. Besides, Mirela had her own reasons for such haste. Her countless plots and machinations were coming to fruition far more quickly than the patient, overly cautious vampire-witch ever planned on.

Mirela raised the stopper to her mouth and tipped the bag back. She sucked greedily from the IV bag until the plastic sack was deflated and empty. A sense of relief and an almost orgasmic release penetrated Mirela’s steely countenance as she lost herself to hunger and bloodlust. She groaned and swallowed with loud, sensual satisfaction as her depleted veins were rejuvenated with an infusion of live-sustaining blood.

This wasn’t exactly the gourmet meal Mirela was used to enjoying. Nothing could compare with the succulent treat of fresh, hot blood drawn directly from her victim’s twitching, ejaculating, barely-living body. These leftovers tasted more like weeks-old stale bread but Mirela hungered powerfully enough that she didn’t mind the slightly stagnant flavor.

After Mirela finished gulping down the entire liquid contents of the bag she leaned back against the stone wall with a loud, relaxed groan and then exhaled a belch and a satisfied sigh. Mirela felt drunk and full but she sobered quickly as an intense sense of shame and revulsion twisted her stomach. She was disgusted at what she’d become and disgraced by how much she came to enjoy this fraudulent immortality trapped within her sick, monstrous form. Mirela closed her eyes and felt so tired… so very tired of everything.

Mirela used her innate sense of direction to gain her bearings then opened her eyes and looked straight up at the arches of the dark stone ceiling. Directly above the spot she fixated upon the sun was shining brightly upon this accursed world. Mirela hadn’t seen true daylight in nearly half a millennia.

“So what, is my faith finally being rewarded?” Mirela asked. She wasn’t sure who she was speaking to at first. “For the first time in my gross abomination of a life? Is this some sort of cruel joke?”

Mirela squinted upward and imagined the sun’s rays shimmering over her undead body, burning her perverted semblance of life all away and leaving nothing but purified ash and dust behind. Probably the fate she deserved after her countless crimes.

“Does this mean that after ignoring me throughout my rape, abuse, and corruption you’re actually answering my prayers now? Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE