Feature Writer: 5thRing

Feature Title: HALLON SEED DAY 2

Published: 26.08.2017

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A demon is discovered, and Julia wants to help it

Hallon Seed Day 2

Mark’s eyes opened to the morning sun beaming through the window and a hint of a morning-wood lump in the surface of the top sleeping bag. He turned his head to see Julia still asleep. She was on her side, facing him, curled up tight, with the sleeping bag pressed into her chin.

The sun was high enough that he was not in the way of it lighting up her face. Her blonde hair shimmered, and strands hung down across her nose and closed eyes. Not wanting to risk waking her, he moved as delicately as he could to brush the strands aside without touching her.

She looked so different when she was asleep. She’d been hiding behind a facade, of one design or another, since before they’d met, but there were little moments, when she was not thinking about anything that troubled her. Little moments when she didn’t know he saw her facade fall.

This was one of those far too rare moments when she was sincere, and that sincerity amplified her beauty exponentially. This was the face he wanted to touch. Those were the lips he wanted to kiss. Those were the eyes through which he could see how magnificent she could truly be.

He knew that if they opened right now, he would see that magnificence, if only for a moment, before she remembered to put her mask back on. Maybe, just maybe, if he was quick enough, he could capture that sincerity in a kiss, and hold it long enough for the mask to crack and fall apart.

For almost three years, he’d been keeping an eye out for that moment, but he’d always been too far away or just in the middle of some other task.

But right now, he was right in front of her, and he was doing nothing else. He could touch her face and wake her up, and maybe that would be the opportunity. But no. He couldn’t force it. It would surely fail if he tried to fabricate any part of it.

So he carefully eased closer. Positioned himself perfectly to extend his neck. His hand relaxed between them, but ready to move in one smooth motion to wrap around her head, beneath her ear. Press to those lips, before she had a chance to close her eyes, and draw that sincerity out into the light of day.

He waited. Minutes passed. She stirred slightly and let out a quiet, sleepy moan, but did not waken. He became distracted by that moan. It filled his thoughts. He wondered what had the honor of inspiring that moan. What was she dreaming?

He wanted to make her moan like that. He wanted to make her moan in a variety of ways. Every beautiful sound in honor of him, yet in honor of her.

His erection grew. He resisted the urge to move that ready hand under the sheet and slide it down his pants, but soon it became unbearable.

He carefully rolled over, pulled away the blanket, sat on the edge of the bed, and slipped his feet into his shoes. Quietly, but quickly, he went down the stairs and into the kitchen to search for the roll of paper towels they had brought, but he could not find them. He settled for a disposable plastic cup.

He freed his rampant dick, spit in his hand, and rubbed it into the pre-cum already threatening to drip from him onto the floor. More than sufficiently lubricated, he stroked himself vigorously, trying to get it done quickly, and in just a few minutes he was shooting several streams into the cup.

He slowly milked himself and scraped the remaining cum off the tip of his dick using the rim of the cup. After a sigh of relief, he shoved his deflating penis back into his underwear.

How to dispose of the evidence, he wondered. He didn’t want Julia to find it. Just putting it in the garbage bag was too risky. Probably better take it outside and dirt wash it first.

Suddenly there was a sound from the presumed basement. He completely forgot about his objective and walked to that shut door. He listened closely for a moment. There was another sound of stirring, but nothing loud enough to truly distinguish.

He turned the knob. It was unlocked. He slowly pulled the door open, peering through the crack. There didn’t seem to be anything immediately inside. There was not enough ambient sunlight to allow him to see much of anything at all.

He grabbed a small flashlight from the counter and turned it on. It was not a lot of light, but it allowed him to see about seven steps down before darkness enveloped everything.

He listened intently as he took each step as stealthily as he could. As he descended, the flashlight revealed more steps, and then eventually a wooden floor. He swept the area with the inadequate light.

From the last step, a set of rotting shelves came into view; a stark contrast to the floor on which it stood, which showed no signs of decay. He walked to the front of the shelf, finding some of the planks broken. The unbroken ones contained what appeared to be some very old leather straps; maybe a horse’s bridle or any number of a thousand things that were made of leather a century ago.

Before he could react, to a clinking sound of metal to his left, something snatched the cup from his hands and retreated back into the darkness.

“SHIT!” he cried out, stumbling backward and onto the floor, dropping the flashlight, which rolled and pointed away from the direction of… whatever that thing was.

Barely audible over his pounding heartbeat in his ears were sounds of chains clinking and what he could only imagine was a desperate animal eating. No. The vocal noises… a… human?

There was a brief moment of silence, and then the cup came flying towards him from the pitch blackness. It bounced on the wooden floor, echoing its high, hollow sounds, halfway through which was also heard, “More.” The cup was quickly silent and then, “I need more. Give me more.”

The… female?… voice demanded, but it also sounded desperate. In pain.

“Please give me more”, it begged, this time sounding pitiful. “I can help you,” it said quickly. “I know how,” was almost drowned out by the sounds of chains being dragged across the floor, and then a shadowy figure rushed toward him.

He cried out in fear and began scrambling backward, away from hands grasping at his stomach and waist.

“No. I can help,” the voice said, almost pleading for understanding.

“GET BACK!” he shouted. The figure followed him a short distance more and then stopped abruptly, but he continued until a brick wall stopped him.

Julia appeared in the doorway with a lantern.

“Mark?”

“Stay back,” he shouted to her. “Something’s down here.” There were more clanking sounds as the thing retreated.

“What is it,” she asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t see anything. It tried to attack me, but I think it’s chained up.”

“It’s an animal?”

“I…” He hesitated, attempting to wrap his head around what just happened. “I think it’s a person.”

“I will not hurt you,” the voice said. “I want only more food.” It sounded almost on the verge of crying. “Please. I am so hungry.”

“I’m coming down,” Julia said. If there’s genuinely someone starving down here, then she needed to help them, but she was still going to be cautious.

“No. Stay up there,” Mark half commanded, half begged.

“I’m armed,” Julia warned, ignoring Mark’s order, and started down the steps, holding the lantern far out in front of her in one hand, and the medium sized water-boiling pot in the other. As she reached the bottom step, Mark called out to her.

“Stop there. She might be able to reach you if you get any closer.”

“She?” Julia stopped. “Are you chained up,” she asked into the darkness.

“Yes,” the voice said, after a pause. It was either honest or just very convincing.

“Come out as far as you can. So I can see you,” Julia calmly ordered.

There was a brief silence, and then the sounds of chains dragging on wood again. A vague figure appeared just out of the lantern’s range. The dragging sound stopped, but the figure moved closer one more step, presumably pulling the chain taut.

“Hold your hands out in front of you, so I can see them,” Julia ordered, as she stepped onto the floor. Hands reached just far enough into the light for Julia to see them, so she moved closer.

The person’s head was turned away from the light, but what Julia saw was about four and a half feet tall, with very messed up, long, dirty hair, wearing a long, baggy outfit of some kind. It seemed to be all one piece, like a long shirt, except it seemed to have an overlap along the upper lengths arms to the neck. The design on the outfit appeared to be purple and black horizontal stripes, about two inches wide.

Barely poking out from the sleeves were a pair of dirty hands, which, upon closer inspection, appeared to be shackled and bound together by a chain approximately one foot long.

Both the finger and toenails were long, discolored, and very jagged .

“I know the light is bright,” Julia said. “Close your eyes and turn your face to me.”

The mass of hair slowly turned, revealing a dirt-smudged face. She couldn’t make out the features very well, but it appeared to be a young girl. A metal collar was around her neck. Julia moved the lantern to look behind the girl, and as expected, the chain that limited her walking distance was attached to the back of the collar.

Julia was not sure what to think. The girl looked like she had been down here far longer than any person could have survived without food, yet she was standing there, with no visible signs of diminished strength.

Mark had been watching intently. After Julia had lit more of the chain, he was able to make a reasonable estimation about what direction it went, and what circular range it offered. He picked himself up off the floor and cautiously walked toward Julia.

The girl turned her head back in Mark’s direction and sniffed the air twice. Mark stopped.

“Hey,” Julia said firmly. “What are you doing,” she demanded of the girl.

“I can smell traces of his seed,” the girl said.

“What,” Julia asked, confused.

“Please give me more. I am so hungry.” The girl dropped to her knees and held her stomach.

“What the hell is she talking about, Mark?”

He certainly didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing while he retrieved his flashlight and joined Julia at the foot of the stairs.

“I had some in a cup, and she snatched it out of my hand. I think she drank it.”

“Drank what,” she asked, not the least bit enlightened by that information.

“My… seed.”

“What seed? What are you talking about?”

Mark could hear the frustration and anger in her voice. He wished she’d just put two and two together, to save him from saying it out loud, but no such luck. No use mincing words anymore.

“I jerked off into a cup this morning and was holding it when I came down here to check on a sound.” There was silence, so he looked over to her. “She stole it from me and drank it,” his voice trailing off.

She had no words. The entire sentence sounded as if it must have been an auditory hallucination. None of those words made any sense in that order. She stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

“What the holy fuck, Mark?”

He shook his head slightly and shrugged a little.

“Why were you doing… ANY of that?”

“Is that really important, right now,” Mark asked, trying to divert that particular line of questioning.

She stared at him a moment more, exhaled a huff, and turned her face forward. She sat down on the last step and set the lantern and the metal pot on the floor so she could rest her head on her fingers to think.

“I’m gonna go get more light,” he said, hurrying back up the steps. It was probably a good idea to not be in the room for at least a little while.

He went back to the bedroom and grabbed the lantern from his side of the bed, went out to the jeep and found the larger flashlight, and then searched some rooms for candles.

He didn’t actually need all of it, but he was trying to keep busy, to give Julia time to settle. He had wanted to look for candles, later, anyway. Constantly carrying a lantern everywhere at night was a bother. He took some thick candles from the rooms they didn’t plan to use, and he set them down in strategic locations in the rooms they were using.

Back in the kitchen, he left his lantern on the counter and brought the box of wooden matches, and the better flashlight, back down with him to the basement. He could barely hear Julia and the girl talking, and when he got halfway down, Julia turned her head and looked up at him.

Mark was relieved that she no longer looked mad, however her new expression was not all that encouraging, either. She looked worried, but more like worried for him. He decided not to pry, just yet. He turned on the flashlight and decided to check out the rest of the basement. At least the area out of reach of that girl.

The walls were brick, and bare, except for a long stone trough that ran almost entirely around the room, about five feet off the ground. It stuck out from the wall about four inches, with the trough itself about one inch deep. The inside glistened with some sort of residue which smelled like it would definitely be flammable.

He lit a match and touched it to the residue. A sizable flame rose up and traveled around the room. By the time it had stopped, the entire room was lit more than enough to no longer need the flashlight or lantern. He found it a bit odd that the flames did not produce any smoke. In fact, neither the walls behind the flames, nor the ceiling above, were coated in soot.

He looked over to Julia, who seemed decidedly unimpressed by the illuminating discovery. She was talking too quietly with the girl for him to hear, and Julia’s hand was now on the girl’s shoulder. She removed her hand, turned off her lantern, and then looked over to him.

“You know that tool shed in the back,” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Would you get that pickaxe thing out of it and bring it down here, please?” That was curiously pleasant of her.

“Sure,” he agreed. As he passed by the two of them, the girl looked down at the floor, obviously trying to avoid looking at him.

“Thanks,” Julia said, as he started up the stairs.

He set the flashlight on the kitchen counter and walked on through to the door leading out the back. About ten feet to the left, was the tool shed. He opened the door, and inspected the variety of now antique tools. The integrity of all of them was questionable, but many seemed to still be in… technically usable condition.

He found a tool that was a pick on one end of the head and a hoe, of sorts, on the other. It fit the description of a “pickaxe thing” better than any of the other tools, many of which he was unable to identify, so he took that and went back to the basement.

He was a little surprised to see the flames still burning strong, given that the fuel was only a thin residue.

Julia stood up as he went down the steps. When he was next to her, she pointed in the direction of the long length of chain and said, “Over there.”

He looked down at the girl who had attacked him before, and within reaching distance of where he would have to put himself in order to go where Julia had directed.

“Don’t worry. She won’t do anything,” Julia assured. He decided to trust her and walked past the girl, who was again looking at the floor.

Julia lead him around to the other side of the dilapidated shelf. In the corner of the room, on the floor, was a pile… a nest, really, of threads, material fragments, and strands of black hair, apparently serving as a bed. There seemed to be more hair in that pile than the girl had on her head.

Julia pointed to an iron plate bolted into the brick wall. In the center was attached the other end of the long chain which had held the girl at bay.

“See if you can break the brick apart and get that plate off,” Julia instructed, and then stepped back out of the way.

Mark tapped the plate with the point of the pick, as a small test of the tool’s reliability. It seemed stable enough, so he took position and swung at the brick, prepared for the handle to shatter, or for something else to go wrong.

The handle vibrated uncomfortably, but nothing broke. He was sure that he hit the brick, but he saw no damage. He took position for another swing. The impact caused the handle to vibrate even more. It probably was not going to be able to take much more of that.

He looked at the area above the plate. He was certain his aim was dead on, but the brick was left completely intact. There was not even a small plume of brick dust. He looked at Julia.

“It’s not doing anything to it,” he said.

She glanced at him as she turned, taking the pick from him, and walked back over to the girl. Julia stood in front of the girl, who, without a word, placed her dirty hands on the wooden floor, as wide as the shorter chain would allow. Pick end down, Julia raised the tool over her head.

That’s not right, was what went through Mark’s mind, assuming she was going to try to break the chains. She was using the wrong end of the tool, and the chain should have been allowed to lay on the floor. He barely managed to say, “Wait,” before Julia swung downward, planting the tip of the pick right into the middle of the back of the girl’s left hand.

The girl cried out in pain.

“SHIT!” Mark dropped down help the girl, fully expecting the pick to have gone completely through her hand and into the floor below, but when the tool was pulled away, there was only a small, shallow wound that barely bled.

He looked up at Julia, confused. She turned to face the wooden steps, raised the pick high, and landed several heavy blows onto one of them, stopping only when the metal of the tool began to separate from the handle.

She pointed to the spot where she had hit and looked at him, waiting for him to look for himself. He moved to inspect the area, but found absolutely no new damage. He looked up at Julia.

“We need to talk,” she said.

He followed her up the steps and to the bedroom. She paced next to the bed and gestured for him to sit down. He complied and then looked up at her. When she happened to turn and look at him, he said, “What’s going on?”

“How much do you know about your great-whatever grandfather that built this place?”

“Almost nothing. No one ever mentioned him. I mean, why would they, since he was so long ago. The only reason I know anything at all was because I had a family tree project in high school. His wife divorced him, some time when their son was very young, and moved half way across the country with the boy.”

“The lawyer that gave me the deed said that it, and the key, had been passed down through the generations, but that no one ever wanted to do anything with them. Everyone lived too far away to bother. Eventually I got it.”

“The lawyer said there had been an arrangement made with the bank, that upon his death, his fortune would go to the bank, under the condition that they keep the house and property in the family, in perpetuity. Really old bank, I guess”

“So, you don’t know why his wife left him,” Julia asked.

“Nope. Don’t even know his name.”

“Well, apparently his name was Phillip Hallon, and he was not a good man, by any stretch of the imagination.”

“How do you know this,” he asked.

She hesitated. “That girl told me.”

“How does she know?”

“Because,” she paused, apprehensively, “she was there.” Julia stopped pacing and looked him in the eye.

He was silent a moment. “Say what?”

She sat down next to him on the bed.

“Remember how you noticed the unusually good condition of the wood?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

“And what happened just a few minutes ago with the pickaxe thing?”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

“That… girl, and this house, are… cursed… sort of.” She waited for some kind of response.

“Well… I don’t exactly disbelieve you, but I can’t think of a better explanation yet, so let’s hear yours.”

“Phillip Hallon…” she paused. “I know this going to sound ridiculous, but Phillip Hallon made a deal with the Devil.”

Mark remained silent, and willing to hear her out. She proceeded.

“He traded his soul for a… well… a life-long sex slave.”

“Tha-. That kid?” Mark was actually ready to be upset, now. The idea of using a kid as a sex slave was absolutely intolerable to him.

“Not… exactly. I mean, that girl is a… demon.”

He moved his head as if he did not understand, but he remained silent.

“This sounds absurd, I know, but apparently the Devil decided to kill two birds with one stone. That demon started liking humans, and wanted to be one. As punishment, he gave it the form that Phillip wanted his sex slave to have, and then chained it up in the basement.”

“That ‘girl’ is not really a female or male, and was tens of thousands of years old before Phillip made his deal. She only LOOKS like a kid. It’s just a form that fed Phillip’s perversion. She’s not… real, so to speak.”

“Is it just me, or are pressing that point pretty hard?”

“Yeah… I am.” She paused a moment. “Part of the punishment was immortality, so she can’t ever die, but if she doesn’t eat, she will suffer the pain of hunger, which she has been for about a hundred years, but the only food that will ease that hunger is… in her own words, the Hallon seed.”

He gave her that silent head gesture again.

“That’s why she…” Julie mimed drinking from a cup. “And you have… Hallon seed.”

He still had no response to what he was being told.

“So that her punishment would be endless, the entire main structure of the house was made indestructible, as well as her chains. Even her body, except for her skin, is completely indestructible, so she can’t ever escape her chains. Not even by chopping off her hands. But she can still be hurt.”

“Phillip tortured her, Mark. He whipped her and cut her for fun, but she always fully healed in a matter of a day or two, so he could keep doing it in addition to raping her.” Julia started to tear up, and her voice quivered, but she continued. “And in spite of all that, she was made to need him in order to NOT suffer pain.”

Julia fell into Mark’s shoulder, and he held her, letting her cry. He could tell that she was identifying with this demon. There was no exact parallel between them, but she was relating to it on some level.

She lifted her head and wiped her tears, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“I know what this means, but I can’t… I can’t just stand by and do nothing. I can’t just leave here and pretend I’m not leaving someone to suffer, but there is literally nothing I can do except beg YOU to help her.”

This was absolutely not the moment he had imagined, but not only did he see the sincerity in her eyes, he saw it screaming for escape. He held her head and met her lips, providing a lifeline. Her facade was finally ready to crumble into dust.

When their lips parted, she immediately hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” she said so quietly that he was not entirely certain that she was saying it to him.

He said nothing. He just hugged her back and wished he didn’t have to pee so badly. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, so he waited for her to let go.

She parted from him, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, rubbing the side of her arm.

“What are you going to do,” she asked.

“Pee,” he replied, flatly, thinking to himself that sometimes she needs to just not ask questions. She exhaled a small laugh, and a smile returned to her face. Or maybe it’s fine that she does, he reconsidered. He smiled at her, stood up and headed downstairs again to use the hole he’d dug behind the outhouse.

When he finished, he returned to the bedroom to find her standing and waiting with a plastic disposable cup in hand. So, she really means for me to do this, he thought. As he approached her, he stared at the cup, and then in her eyes that fixated on his.

It was going to feel very awkward for him to masturbate knowing she knew what he was doing, and her standing there with container in hand did not help. Is this what sperm donors feel like after they’ve met the receptionist?

She looked away turned just enough to place the cup on the bed. He stopped right in front of her. He wasn’t expecting to have to provide so soon, but no time like the present, he supposed.

“So, I g-” Her lips stopped his from moving. Her hands held his head still. She backed her head away to read his expression. “What are you-”

“Shh,” she cut him off, gently. “Just be quiet, and let me do this.” He had no desire to argue, and her lips were on his again.

His objective began to fade from his mind as he realized that what he had desperately wanted, in his more vulnerable moments, was now happening. Or was it?

He had wanted her to choose him. He had wanted to be the object of her desire. He wanted her to kiss him exactly like this: Unexpectedly.

But was that really what was happening? Did she want him, or did she just want to help him, so she could feel like she was doing something useful?

Her hands moved to his neck, then his shoulders. He resisted the urge to care less about the question as her palms glided down over his bare chest. Her fingers swiped outward and her thumbs brushed back a forth across his nipples. He had never cared anything about his nipples, the way women give attention to their own, but this… this made his mind tingle.

He breathed between the beats of her kisses.

He dared not move as one of her hands slid down his abdomen, causing him to swell at her destination. Both waist bands allowed her passage. Slowly through his hair, and then the sensation of her fingertips along his length sucked in his breath. He moaned, and as if it were a reward, she kissed him longer.

Her fingers wrapped around him, teasing along the edge of the underside. She slowly moved him up and down, sometimes gripping tightly enough to force his skin. Sometimes loosely enough to slide her palm and let her fingertip caress the head.

Her free hand traveled to the back of his waist and waited. He released pre-cum and she spread it, then lightly teased to coax more from the tip. Another helping was delivered, and that was her signal to begin pushing down the waistband of his underwear along with his gym pants.

When his buttock was free, she took a moment to clutch it and massage, grip it tightly before continuing.

When her hand could go no further, she left his lips, looked him directly in the eyes and began lowering herself, maintaining her gaze as both hands pushed his clothes the rest of the way down his legs. He felt her fingers leave a short, wet trail of his lubricant tapering down his thigh.

On her knees and looking him in the eyes. His mind reeled. One hand returned to his buttock, the other held his base and pointed him directly at her mouth. Was this real?

Her lips opened and sheathed him.

His eyes closed an his head went back. His ability to stand upright left him. He gently held the back of her head with one hand, and found the mattress with the other.

“Oh, god,” he invoked, the security of the bed beneath him, and the security of her mouth around him.

Her tongue pressed and swiped along him and around him. Her hand cupped his balls. He desperately wanted to hold her head firmly and push into her, but the tiny fragment of rational thought that remained stopped him. And yet, somehow he was suddenly deep within her, every inch of him compressed.

“Oh my god. I’m going to cum,” he managed to breath, warning her, as a courtesy. She pulled away, and every corner of his mind screamed, NOOOO!

He desperately grabbed himself and began stroking. His grip felt unfamiliar, but then the muscles in his abdomen and groin tensed and released, repeatedly firing the small sensation of mass through the length of him, and that unfamiliarity stopped mattering.

The intensity of each surge began decreasing, until what remained had to be expelled manually. That unfamiliarity returned to his attention. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes.

For half a second, he was confused. Julia was kneeling with a cup held under the head of his dick, and his hand was wrapped around hers, wrapped around him.

He blinked and then began remembering why he was doing this to begin with. He remembered his purpose. He remembered his doubt.

He released his grip and fell backward onto the bed to recover. He put his hands on his face, his fingers covering his eyes to block out the light, allowing him to think.

Such a bittersweet thing this was. The irony was not lost on him that it was possible that Julia had simply just used him, as she had been used so many times before. He wished he could read her mind, right now.

He felt her finish getting what she could out of him, and let go. He heard her leave the room. She was going to feed his cum to a… He had to keep reminding himself that it was not really a kid, not that it helped him feel that much better.

Another uneasy thought creeped into his mind. If it is a demon, then how can they be sure it’s telling them the truth? So far, he and Julia have been relying solely on its word about what happened in the past.

What if Phillip captured the demon to protect himself? What if he told his wife to leave with their son, to get them far from danger? What if he stayed to ensure the demon could never escape?

Mark had no definitive proof of either case. Maybe there was something in the house. A diary or journal. He even reluctantly entertained the idea of a spell book. He would search the house later. Right now, though, he was very hungry.

He sat up and opened his eyes, looking at his deflated penis. He noticed a fallen drop of the inevitable post-cum on the floor. He looked around for something with which to wipe himself. Finding nothing suitable, he decided to just wipe himself on the side of the century-old mattress sheet.

The thought went through his head that it probably wasn’t generally a good idea to rub your dick hole against unwashed one hundred year old cloth, but he did it anyway. It’s been a rough morning.

He changed into some different clothes and went downstairs. As he looked for that can of stew, from last night, Julia emerged from the basement door carrying the, presumably now empty, cup, and set it on the end of the counter.

“Hungry,” he asked, holding the can up for her to see.

“Very,” she replied. She took a package of small paper plates out of the provisions box and tore open the plastic wrapping, removed two plates and set them out.

Mark, thankful for small modern conveniences, pulled the tab on the top of the can, and peeled away the lid. Julia handed him a spoon, and he shoveled equal portions onto the plates. It came out thick with bits of congealed grease that looked almost like debris.

“I think you’re supposed to add water,” he said, evidently not caring enough to go through the effort.

“It’s fine as it is,” said Julia, completely understanding, and sharing, his apathy. They took their plates, sat in their chairs, and began eating.

They were both quiet in thought for a time, but then Julia brought him out of his contemplation.

“Would there happen to be scissors packed with the camping equipment,” she inquired.

“Yeah,” he answered through a mouthful.

“I’d like to clean her up. Somehow give her a bath and cut her hair.”

“Hm,” Mark acknowledged. The house had no indoor plumbing, and… it… was unable to leave the basement, Mark assessed. There was an old water pump behind the house, but he had no idea if it worked. He started thinking of the things they had that could be used as some sort of tub, but nothing came to mind.

“We should really take inventory of this house,” he said. With any luck, they would find some useful clues as to what really did happen between Phillip and the demon.

“Yeah,” Julia agreed. “I mean, there should be one of those tubs that they did laundry in, right? You know, with the washboard.” She moved her fork hand to mime pushing and pulling soiled clothes across the metal ribs.

He nodded. He wanted to express his doubts about the demon to Julia, but something inside was telling him to keep it to himself, for the moment, at least. It just seemed like nothing good would come of it without something tangible to offer.

“I’ll see if that water pump in back is any good. A bath does sound nice.”

“Yeah,” Julia agreed in short laugh. Especially in a few days. Oh, please tell me you have one of those camping shower bags that heats the water in the sun.”

Mark smiled and nodded.

“Awesome.”

They finished eating, and then went about their individual objectives.

The metal water pump was stubborn, but with some effort and a lot of pumping, he managed to get a halfway decent flow of smelly rust colored water going. He continued pumping to see if would clear up, and after a few minutes it started looking and smelling like something he wouldn’t be afraid to touch.

He felt it wise to boil it before attempting to consume any of it, but at least they had a free water source.

In the kitchen, he found a large pot they could use for boiling, a few rags that had managed to remain in usable condition, and a pail. He went ahead and lit the stove, and then collected some well water to boil. This particular water was not for consuming, but why take the risk?

Eventually, Julia entered the kitchen with a smile, holding up a laundry tub for him to see, and the boxed camping shower at her side.

“Bingo,” she said, excited. She set the shower on the floor, out of the way, and headed through the open door to the basement. “Guess what, kiddo,” she said, descending, and a wave of discomfort hit Mark.

He was trying to do everything he could to see that demon as something other than a young girl. That may have been an entertaining moment of suspension of disbelief for Julia, but it was definitely not helping him.

He set the large pot on the stove, poured in the water, and went back out for a second pail full. He dumped that in, and it was just a matter of time. He decided to use that time searching for some useful information, and he figured a good place to start was the study.

He searched shelves and drawers, and while there seemed to be more than a few sinister looking books, none of them supported the case for or against Phillip. Whether he was summoning or entrapping, he would still need demonic knowledge.

Mark found it odd that there was no journal of any kind. If the man was evil, then he would undoubtedly be expressing his self-importance somewhere. If he was good, then it seemed reasonable that he would write down important information for anyone who might discover the demon after his death.

He would search the rest of the house another time. The water should be boiling by now.

He returned to the kitchen, and indeed the water was bubbling quite a bit. He used a couple of the old rags as potholders and carefully hefted the pot off of the stove and onto the marble counter top.

“Hey, Julia,” he called out. In a moment she poked her head through the door.

“Yeah?”

“I have some water ready,” he informed. Her face lit up.

“Awesome. Thank you.” She practically bounced the rest of the way through the door.

He began pouring some of the water back into the pail, for easier carrying down the steps.

“It’ll need to cool off quite a bit. It was just boiling, but it’ll be a warm bath.”

“Okay.” Julia hefted the pail off the counter. “It’ll have time to cool while we cut her hair.” She started back toward the door.

“We?”

She stopped and looked him in the eye, with peaceful compassion on her face.

“I know how you see her, but that’s not what she is. Avoiding her won’t help you.”

He tried to think of a counter-argument, but he knew she was right.

“Bring down the rest of the water. Let’s do this together.” She turned and went through the door. After a moment, he lifted the pot and followed her.

Julia had already brought down scissors, her comb and hairbrush, and a new bar of soap, as well as her manicure kit. She finished dumping her water into the laundry tub, and then he emptied the pot into it. He set the pot down and was suddenly feeling rather useless, standing there watching Julia pick at the demon’s mass of tangled, filthy hair.

“What’s… her… name?” He felt it would be rude to call the demon an it. Julia shot him a glance that told him to ask the demon, instead of Julia.

“I’m sorry.” The demon turned its head enough to look at Mark without hindering Julia’s efforts. “What is your name?”

“I do not remember my name. Many of my memories were removed when I was put into this body. I have little knowledge of my previous self.”

The contrast between the demon’s eloquence and the voice with which it spoke was jarring to Mark. Julia picked up the scissors and began cutting fistfuls of hair away. Mark turned over the pail and used it as a stool.

“Tell me more about why you were being punished,” Mark asked, making an effort to avoid making this feel like an interrogation. The demon faced forward again, pausing in contemplation.

“It was once my purpose to create misery. I was an unseen, unheard whisper that guided humans toward atrocity, and I did so very well, but there were many who were able to resist. At first I was angry, believing it insolence, but then I saw that it was strength.”

“My eternal single-mindedness became split by my curiosity. I became fascinated by what love could achieve. The only joy I had ever experienced, if it was even indeed joy, was in the pain of others. I was no longer blind to true joy, and I longed for it.”

“I stopped whispering and began simply observing. Learning. I noticed the greatest joy humans felt was in the aid of their fellow humans, and so I became a whisper guiding humans toward compassion. When I experienced that joy for myself, my betrayal was discovered.”

“My punishment was to suffer inescapable misery. The atrocities I was meant to inspire were to be set upon me. And what good is being punished if you don’t know why it is happening? I was allowed to remember my original purpose, as well as how I betrayed it. My punishment was meant to drive me back to that purpose. To make me hate humanity once more.”

Julia turned the demon around to attend to the back of its hair. The demon was utterly compliant.

“I was intended to be passed down through generations of Hallon descendants, trapped in endless torture and degradation, but Lady Hallon provided a bittersweet respite when she fled this place with the Hallon heir.”

“There were many times when I was not certain if constant starvation was the lesser pain to suffer, but her choice may be the only reason I am not currently overwhelmed by a seething hatred for all of humankind. It was often a struggle, but I chose to count myself fortunate.”

Mark needed a moment to process all of that. Julia sniffed, turned the demon back around, and wrapped her arms around the demon in hug. The demon was motionless for a moment, but then slowly raised its right hand, and placed a hand on Julia’s arm. It was as if the demon was returning the hug, but was not sure how to do it properly, not that the chain that connected its hands would have allowed for a proper hug.

Julia let go and wiped her eyes.

“These scissors weren’t meant for haircuts, and I’m certainly not a stylist, but I think that will do for the moment.” She set the scissors down, lifted the demon’s arms out front and began unfastening buttons hidden beneath the overlap that ran from the sleeve to the neck.

Mark looked at how it was made, and deduced that the sleeves being split along their length was the only way to actually remove the single garment.

“Could you get those,” Julia gestured with her head, indicating the buttons along the right arm. He reached up, hesitantly, but began pushing buttons through their holes.

The only button left was one at the shoulder near Mark. “Wait,” he said. He was still very uncomfortable about this. Julia looked at him, expectantly, but there was only a silence which Mark’s thoughts had failed to fill with words.

“Mark.” Julia started to say something, but stopped.

The demon turned toward him, held his face in its hands and looked Mark directly in the eye.

“This form is as a statue hewn from stone. Pottery molded from clay. I have witnessed and created more death, carnage, and depravity than you can imagine, and have delighted in all of it.” It paused for a second. “I am not a child.”

It waited a moment more, then released Mark’s face and proceeded to unfasten the remaining button itself. Mark resisted the urge to look away, knowing that he must face this reality head-on.

The garment dropped to reveal the naked body. It was completely hairless, but had small, yet distinct breasts. Mark felt like he was staring at a fourteen year old girl. This is not a child, he repeated in his mind. The body was noticeably dirty, but still far cleaner than the hands and feet.

“How’s the water,” Julia asked.

Mark observed that steam was no longer rising from the water. He dipped a finger in and out quickly. It did not burn him. He put is hand in and moved it around.

“It’s still kinda hot, but it’s not going to scald you.”

“Go ahead and see if it’s alright for you,” Julia said to the demon. It stepped out of the fallen garment and over to the tub. It dipped a toe and winced a little, but slowly eased in its whole foot, then the other. “Okay, then?”

“Yes,” said the demon. “Thank you.”

Julia picked up a rag and the bar of soap and walked over. She wet and lathered the rag, and began wiping down the small body. When the demon had acclimated to the temperature of the water, it sat down in the tub.

Mark watched Julia smiling and offering little instructions. Soon, even the demon began to enjoy the bath. It apparently had not been cleaned in over a century. Even a demon in human skin might appreciate the feeling.

“Close your eyes,” Julia instructed, and when the demon complied, she squeezed the soaked rag out over the demon’s head. “This might take some time,” Julia laughed. “Get us something to dip water with,” she said to Mark.

He stood and went up to the kitchen. The disposable cup was still on the counter, and he was reminded of what he would invariably have to do again, at some point. He took the cup and returned. Julia’s smile waned just for a second, when she saw what he had chosen, but she took it and repeatedly scooped up soapy water and dumped it over the demon’s head.

Julia lathered her hands and ran the bar over the shorter, much more manageable head of black hair, set the bar aside, and then dug in with her fingers to massage the demon’s scalp thoroughly.

“Oh,” Julia said, surprised. She ran her thumbs over two spots on the demon’s head. She moved hair aside and looked closer. “Are you kidding me,” she said, overjoyed by whatever it was she saw. “Do you seriously have little horns?”

“Yes,” the demon replied, with less excitement.

“Look at this,” she looked to Mark. “She actually has little nubbly horns.” She looked back at the object of her joy. “That’s so freakin’ adorable.”

Mark leaned over for a better view and, even though they were hard to make out clearly, being the same color as the hair, he did see little bumps about one inch high and about one and a half inches in diameter at the base.

Julia began pouring cupfuls of the brown soapy water over the demon’s lathered hair.

“You’re going to need more clean water and a towel,” Mark realized.

“Yes we will,” Julia continuing to enjoy herself. Mark stood, picked up the large pot and the pail, and left to gather what they needed.

He decided to only warm the water, instead of boiling it, and he found a towel of his own in the jeep. He dipped the pail into the heating pot, and brought it and the towel down, and then returned for the pot itself.

Julia instructed the demon to sit on its knees and hang its head over the pot of clean water, and then she used the cup to collect and pour it over the demon’s soapy head. When the hair was as rinsed as that water was going to get it, she collected from the pail and rinsed it further.

“Stand up and let’s scrub those feet,” Julia said, happily. The demon obeyed. “We’ll take care of those nails when your dried off,” she added.

“Okay,” the demon said, sounding just like a happy little girl, momentarily set Mark on edge, but he pushed it out of his mind.

“Oh, hey, Mark,” Julia said. “Bring down one of the camping chairs for her to sit in while I do her nails.”

Mark ascended the stairs, yet again, unsure about Julia’s behavior in all of this. She seemed to be more successfully accepting the demon’s non-human status than he was, and yet she was treating it like she was having a fun time babysitting a child. Maybe she was just doing a better job of compartmentalizing, at the moment.

He folded up her chair, brought it down, and unfolded it again in a convenient spot.

Satisfied that the demon had been adequately washed, she had it step one foot at a time into the remaining pail water to rinse its feet. She dried its hair enough to keep it from dripping and then wrapped the towel around the demon’s body, and instructed it to sit in the chair.

Julia held the demon’s feet, looking at the awful toenails. “My goodness, the state of these.” She shook her head and sighed, before resolving to clean them up as well.

Mark took the opportunity to go ahead and start disposing of the bath water. He filled the pail and started back toward the stairs.

“You may dispose of it on the floor in the center of the room, if you wish,” the demon said, pointing that direction.

Mark paused and looked. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” That seemed odd.

“That is where Phillip always disposed of the water,” the demon added.

So, Phillip used to bathe her, then? That lent some credibility to the demon’s claims. It could also be a lie to serve that very purpose. Mark dumped the water there, regardless, and it all drained between the floorboards, splattering onto the dirt below.

Mark sat back down near the demon, and decided to get more information.

“How often do you need to be… fed?”

“Once a day is sufficient, when I am not starving. That is why I wanted more from you.” The demon looked him in the eye. “I… apologize for my behavior.”

Mark just nodded his acceptance. He wanted to ask some good questions. He needed questions that might potentially allow him to catch the demon in a lie. How arrogant is that, he laughed, internally. Hoping to outsmart a demon who may well be older than all of humankind.

How many intricate plans can someone develop during a century of solitude, just waiting for a foolish mortal to happen by?

“Do you sleep?”

“I CAN sleep. My body does not require it. My mind…” The demon’s eyes wandered a moment and then returned to Mark’s. “It is better if I do sleep, although my dreams are often… unpleasant.”

Marked looked over to the nest in the corner. “What did that used to be? Your bed, I mean.”

“That was once a mattress. When Phillip never returned, and I was left in darkness, in both anger at him, and in order to keep myself occupied, I dragged that mattress from its place, and proceeded to tear it to pieces. I then tore those pieces into smaller pieces. And then picked apart those smaller pieces, thread by thread.”

“When there were no more pieces, I plucked the hairs from my head. I counted them. I have 149,763. I had hoped that the number would be different the second time, but it was not. I had hoped that I might eventually forget how many there were, but I later discovered that I do not forget anything.”

“I will forever remember everything that I have, and will ever, experience in this form, Mark.” A tear rolled down the demon’s face, but its flat expression did not change.

“How can you bear that,” Julia asked, somberly.

“One learns.” The demon looked down at the freshly manicured toes on its right foot. “To focus on the good. However little of it there may be.”

Mark was finding it more difficult to doubt this creature. Difficult, but not impossible. He decided to try a more direct approach, to see what would happen.

“Are you lying to us?”

“Mark,” Julia disapproved.

“I understand your doubt.” The demon looked at him again. “I also suspect that you know that is a foolish question. I will not insult you with an answer.”

Yeah, that didn’t help at all. Back to basic knowledge.

“Do you know why knowledge of your name was erased from your memory?”

“I do not know that either, but it does seem that there would be no reason to do that unless it was of some importance. Phillip had mentioned having books of demonology. Perhaps they might be of assistance.”

“I saw some in the study,” Mark said. “I’ll look them over, tomorrow. See if I can find anything.”

The demon turned its blank expression to Julia working on its fingernails.

“I’m going to be done with this pretty soon,” Julia informed. “I would love to have a shower, later.”

“Wouldn’t mind one myself,” replied Mark. There was a silence, and then Julia kicked his foot. “Oh, right.” Mark stood up, grabbed the pot and pail, and trudged once more up the stairs, hearing Julia ask a question of her own.

“So, do you ever need to piss or shit?”

“I do not.”

“You’re lucky on that.”

“I suppose that is true.”

Mark shook his head and laughed quietly, walking out of earshot. She really is something, he thought. As he left the back door and headed to the water pump, he also thought, I’m going to be doing this a lot more, aren’t I?

He set more water to boil, and Julia poked her head through the door again.

“You didn’t happen to bring a tank top that you don’t mind sacrificing, did you?”

“No. I don’t wear tank tops.”

“Hmm,” she replied and headed toward the front door.

Marked picked up the camping shower box up off the floor and looked it over for instructions. They looked pretty simple, so he went back out to find a good spot to hang it up. As luck would have it, there was a large hook bolted into the house’s overhang, which was part of the main structure, so he felt confident that it would easily bear the weight of the water bag.

It was right outside the back door, so he would not have to carry it far, and was above some paving stones, so there was no concern about standing in mud.

Mark did other little preparatory things, occasionally seeing Julia rush by, one direction or another, apparently trying to make the demon feel more comfortable.

He filled the shower bag, happy in the knowledge that he would get to use it later.

“Come help me move this shelf,” Julia said, suddenly behind him.

Mark turned around, confused and curious. She was already headed back down to the basement, so he just followed.

“I want to either move it to the other side of the room or just break it down completely and haul it out,” Julia said, looking at the dilapidated unit from various angles.

The demon was still sitting in the canvas camping chair, but was now dressed in a pair of small shorts and a shirt that had been cut open along the top and reaffixed with ties of material strips cut from the bottom of the shirt. The demon’s nails were cut short and filed, and looked good, apart from some slight discoloration.

The demon sat with a blank expression, just watching Mark and Julia. Mark, half amused, half disturbed, noted that the creature looked even more like a normal young teenager.

“What was on this shelf, anyway,” Mark asked the demon.

“Various instruments of torture,” it replied, flatly.

Mark and Julia were silent and motionless for a moment, a bit shocked by the revelation, and perhaps a little by the tone in which it was delivered.

“Okay, this is going out,” Julia decided. “Break it, take it out, and use it for firewood.” Mark offered no disagreement.

After some time and effort, it was cleared away, along with the disgusting nest of hair and thread. Julia swept the floor. The fire in the trough, inexplicably continued to burn bright. Marked stepped away, on occasion, to attend to the boiling water.

“Now comes the hard part,” Julia said, with hands on hips, looking at him.

“Say what?” That sounded terribly ominous to Mark, considering everything he’d done already.

“We need to get the mattress from the bedroom and bring it down here.” Emphasized the two locations by pointing.

Mark’s shoulder’s dropped with his jaw. “Wha…?”

“I’ll go clean it off,” Julia said, walking past him and up the steps.

“Fuck me,” Mark said to himself, suddenly feeling much more exhausted.

Julia gone, Mark looked at the demon staring back. All of this was starting to feel like much more trouble than it was worth, given that the demon could still possibly be pure evil.

“And what are your feelings about all this?”

The demon’s eyes wandered in thought for a moment, and then returned to Mark’s. “I greatly appreciate everything that you and Julia are doing for me.”

“You certainly don’t look it,” Mark accused. He wanted to add that it looked like the demon had just considered what would be the most strategic answer as opposed to the honest one, but he chose to keep that to himself.

The demon opened its mouth to speak, but said nothing a moment. “My joy is the reason I am here. I am… afraid.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier,” Mark noted.

“I came very close. I let my guard down,” the demon replied.

Mark offered no response of any kind. He just looked at the demon’s eyes for some change. Seeing nothing, he just walked away. He did not want to judge the creature unfairly, but everything it had offered seemed very convenient. Or just true.

Better to err on the side of hope, he supposed. And Julia seemed to be benefitting greatly from the opportunity to help this thing. He figured that alone made it worthwhile. If it helped her heal, then he didn’t want to stand in the way.

But carrying that giant lumpy mattress down two flights of stairs? For fuck’s sake… Maybe it’ll fall apart and spare him the trouble.

It did neither. It ripped a little, in a few places, but Mark was astonished that it survived the trip. They placed the mattress on the floor, using the wall between the stairs and the corner, where the nest had been, as a headboard.

“Okay, so where are we sleeping, now,” Mark asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Here,” Julia answered, to Mark’s surprise. She stepped over to him and put her hands on his chest. Looking him in the eyes. “We’re not leaving her alone.” She raised herself onto her toes, gave him a kiss, and then headed back upstairs.

He considered the possibility that she had been hypnotized, or something like that, by the creature, but he had to admit, that none of her choices had truly surprised him. This was all exactly what she would have done anyway.

He went up to help her carry down the makeshift bedcovers and put them back in their previous arrangement.

“The shower is ready, by the way,” Mark mentioned, after the bed was made.

“That’s excellent news.” Julia wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know you’ve done so much, today. Do you want first go?”

“No, you go ahead. I just want to sit down a while.” He rubbed up and down her arms.

“Okay.” She gave him another quick kiss. “See you in a bit.” She parted from him and left.

The demon was now laying in the middle of the still-made bed, just staring at the ceiling. Mark sat in the canvas camping chair and relaxed, letting the relief wash over him. His legs and his back thanked him.

After a few minutes, he decided to prepare some food for Julia. He went up to the kitchen and started rummaging through the provisions box. A sound like rain caught his attention, so he looked toward the windowed door outside. Through the time-browned doily curtain he saw the vague shape of Julia in motion.

He was drawn to her. The knowledge that she was just on the other side of that door, naked. He stared as he pushed off his shoes with his toes and pulled his shirt over his head. He unfastened his jeans and left everything on the floor where it landed, then slowly moved toward her.

Every step made his view clearer. Her back was to him. Sound was his nemesis, defeated only by care and time, and then there was all of her. Her fingers in her hair. His hands on her waist startled her, but his lips on her neck calmed her. She froze and wavered for an instant.

She turned her face to him and found his lips. She turned her body to his and pushed her fingertips outward along his ribs to hold him. She inhaled deeply as she found the will to break from him.

She pick up the bar of soap, that waited nearby, and then moved it across the expanse of his chest, his stomach, his arms. He stood motionless as she picked up the soaked rag and walked around behind him and wet his skin. The bar of soap moved over his back.

For a moment he she pulled away, but he waited, and then felt the soapy softness of the rag move across him. She moved slowly, smoothly, almost like a meditation. Across his buttocks, down his legs and back up, diverting just short of his growing erection. Up his stomach and chest from behind, she traveled every inch of him… almost.

Back down to the crease of his thighs. Even the space behind his scrotum. He began to ache for the feel of her where she had not yet been.

She moved to his side, and he raised a hand to the back of her head, holding her face in the frame of his arm. Pressing her forehead to the side of his mouth, he offered a half-kiss and open-mouthed breathes as a plea, and she granted his request.

He moaned against her as the cloth wrapped around and along his rigid length. Back and forth. It felt as if it were trying to steal his breath.

Her palm was suddenly on his buttock, and the length of her index finger wedged along his crevice. A little deeper. I little further under, until she feathered against the base of his scrotum.

“Oh, my god, Julia.” He held her now to steady himself, as the cloth moved faster, bringing him closer to the edge. She moved her head down slightly and bit gently into his flexed bicep.

With perfect timing, her hand beneath gripped, as if she had total control, and perhaps she did. As if rolls of thunder to accompany the sound of rain, his grunts verberated, and were soon followed by streaks of white through the air.

“Julia,” he breathed, at the first opportunity. She guided him forward, into the falling water, and he released her. She pushed the rag up his body to his face and head, and he held his eyes closed for her.

When she had rinsed him, she turn the water off, and stood before him. She looked into his eyes a moment, and then embraced him tightly.

“Thank you, Mark,” her words vibrating against his chest. “Thank you for everything.”

His attention was divided between her words and her lower belly pressed against his still half-erect penis, but he did notice that she said his name. The last time, he was uncertain, but this time he could rest assured that it was truly him to whom she was grateful, and so he returned the embrace fully.

She used the towel, which had dried the demon, to dry them both, and then they went back inside. She hung the wet towel up near the stove, and then he watched her walk naked to the foot of the stairs, presumably to go to the bedroom for some clean clothes.

Once she was out of view, he followed to do the same, and to reacquire the view. Her buttocks alternated up and down with each step. Though mostly hidden in shadow, her mound peeked in and out of view. Mesmerized, he followed.

As she entered the room, she glanced back at him and smiled. Again, she was momentarily out of view, but his patience held. She was squat on her toes, at her duffle bag. His heart twisted at the view of her from behind. Her legs spread wide, exposing her mound with its lips parted. He longed for that morning sun to beam through. Alas, it was nearing dark.