Ashmodaen

Author’s Note: Not much to say at this point. Check my profile if you want more of an update, I’ll be editing that once I’ve submitted this.

Tags up front: Demon, magic, succubus, incubus, nonhuman

“Fuck,” I growled emphatically, gently feathering the brakes and merging two lanes to the right in response to the red and blue lights that had lit up right behind my car. It was almost 8 in the morning and my shift had sucked balls; did my busted tail light really demand I get pulled over this morning?

Throwing the gear into park and turning off the radio, I rolled down the window and planted both hands on the steering wheel, slouching back in my seat and sighing heavily. Hopefully this would just be a quick stop and talk, maybe a stern warning, and then I’d be on my way. All I wanted to do was crash in bed and sleep until next week. Violent detoxer patients were just the best, and last night was my third shift in a row sitting with that little shit Ben.

“Good morning, sir.” I looked up sharply at the distinctly feminine voice, which, to be fair, in this day and age shouldn’t be surprising.

The policewoman was a blonde, bombshell beauty, to put it in polite terms. Her hair – which was pulled up into a sensible, tight bun – seemed to almost shimmer in the early-morning sunlight. She was slender, but had luscious curves, matched by the generous swell of her chest. Her face was gorgeous, with high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and a narrow jaw and chin, though her eyes were hidden behind her mirrored shades.

For the briefest moment, I considered asking if she was available, but then two things dissuaded me. First, I remembered that she was a cop and I just got pulled over – not exactly a dealbreaker in all cases, but it’s not a great start. Second, the moment I fully faced her, her carefully cultivated expression of neutrality morphed into a poorly-suppressed scowl. I wasn’t even really checking her out – most of the details came to me in my peripheral view – so that confused me a lot.

“Er, morning, ma’am. Tail light, right? I’ve got an appointment to get that fixed on Thursday.”

“License and insurance, please.” I barely managed not to flinch at the harsh chill in her voice, then muttered an affirmative and pulled out my wallet. She nearly snatched the cards away before returning to her cruiser, and I sighed again. Why the fuck did I feel so on edge? Sure, she seemed to have a bad attitude, and she seemed to actually dislike me (maybe I reminded her of an asshole ex?), but that was no reason to assume the worst.

Then she came back to the door, her stance cautious… and her hand resting on her gun. “Mister Ashmoor, I need you to turn off the engine and step out of the car.”

My heart froze. I swallowed heavily. “I-is something wrong, officer?”

“Do as I say, sir.”

I forced myself to take deep breaths as I twisted the key and opened the door, hoping that controlling my breathing would stop the tremor in my hands. “Turn around and put your hands on the roof of the car,” the policewoman said, her voice still harsh steel. So much for stopping the tremor.

Once my hands were on the car, I felt her start to pat me down. Since I had just come off work, my scrubs were stuffed with things; a book, my Nintendo Switch in its case, and my phone and wallet. She took everything out, but I didn’t dare look or ask where she was putting them.

When she was finished, she pulled my arms back and slapped a set of cuffs around my wrists. Without a word I was ‘escorted’ to her squad car, and none-too-gently pushed into the backseat, and quickly buckled in by the woman, who then got in the driver’s seat and started driving. I opened my mouth to ask what the actual fuck was going on, and then I woke up.

Yeah, one second I was sitting up about to ask a question, the next I was opening my eyes in a slouched position with a tiny bit of drool drying at the corner of my mouth.

Oh, and we were in the middle of a forest, apparently, not a building in sight.

“The fuck?” I breathed, looking around in a panic. When the hell did we get here?

The door opened and the policewoman was glaring at me with confusion, her shades gone and revealing her ice-blue eyes. “How are you awake?” she demanded. It was only then that I saw her nametag: Angela.

“What?” There was so much more I wanted to ask, but that was all that my brain managed in its state of shock.

She snarled. “Nevermind, it won’t matter in a minute.” Then, with absolutely none of her earlier, minimal restraint, Angela reached across my body, unbuckled me, and then all but dragged me out of the car.

“What’s going on?” I yelped as she strongarmed me away from the car, struggling to keep my feet under me while tripping over roots and rocks. After almost falling on my face twice, I started to wonder at Angela’s strength. She was just dragging me along as if I weighed nothing!

We finally reached wherever we were going, and Angela simply tossed me forward. I landed with a grunt, then froze at the sight of an empty, shallow grave right in front of me.

Turning quickly, I watched with wide eyes as Angela leaned down and pulled a slender, long dagger from under her pant leg. “You should have concealed your aura if you really wanted to hide yourself. With such a thin glamour, I’m shocked nobody caught you sooner.”

Her words mostly just went right by me, but some of the odder phrases caught my attention. ‘Aura?’ ‘Glamour?’ What the hell was she talking about?!

I was frozen with fear as she approached, the blade of the dagger glinting in the sunlight. Then, when she paused, standing over me with an expression of disgust and hate, I reacted instinctively. Twisting, I kicked out at her knee, landing the blow hard enough to make her cry out and drop. Scrambling to my feet, I took off away from her and the shallow, unmarked grave I knew was for me. With my hands still cuffed behind me, I had to tuck my chin and shoulder through the undergrowth, and I felt dozens of scratches forming on my exposed face and neck as I whipped by branches and bushes.

I stumbled to a halt suddenly when I found myself in front of a wide, quick-flowing river. Glancing back, my heart leapt into my throat as I caught sight of golden hair coming up behind me.

I glanced left, then right. Seeing no easy path through the forest, I took a few steps back. Then I charged, jumping into the river.

Almost instantly, I floundered. Swimming without the use of your hands is difficult in ideal conditions (re: a calm pool), let alone a wildly-racing river. Struggling to orient myself in the current, I tucked my knees for a moment and got my hands in front of me, giving me a bit more control over my course, at the cost of doing a somersault and a half. But the current and rapids were too strong, and I was dragged under.

It felt like ages, but it was probably only seconds. Regardless, my lungs burned as I struggled futilely towards what I thought was the surface. Then the current threw me against something hard, and I felt my skull impact before blacking out.

When I woke up, Angela was leaning over me, a look of consternation on her face. I saw the glint of her dagger in my peripheral, but a small, logical part of me pointed out that if she still wanted to kill me, she had ample opportunity after I had hit my head.

Wait. I’d hit my head hard enough to get knocked out, but I didn’t even have a headache right now. And I knew that those bits in books and movies about hitting someone over the head to knock them out only for them to wake up fine was a myth. So, how was I fine?

“You are rather stupid for such a powerful Ashmodaen,” Angela muttered, her voice some odd mix of consternation and disgust.

I blinked in confusion. “Ash-what now?”

It was Angela’s turn to blink, and her expression became one of surprise. “You don’t…” Then she frowned, anger burning in her gaze. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you are ignorant of what you are?”

“Look, unless Ash-mood-an,” yeah, I butchered that pronunciation, “is some weird way of saying ‘nurse aid’ or ‘human,’ I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. And the only thing I’d consider ‘powerful’ about myself is my ability to sit in a chair for five hours straight playing computer games.”

Her fiery expression slowly leached away, then she stared at me with intense concentration for a long moment. “You’re not lying…” she murmured eventually, shock blooming across her face as she said it.

I glared at her. “Of course I’m not lying! I’m not…” I broke off as she abruptly stood and turned aside, fishing out her phone, the knife suddenly gone. Now what was she doing? And where did the dagger go?

After a moment, she held the phone up to her ear, and after a moment. “Come on, Arden, pick up.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, little angel,” a strange voice said from the trees, an instant before Angela’s phone literally blew up in her hand.

As both Angela and I turned towards the voice (Angela somehow unharmed by the spontaneous combustion of her phone in her hand and against her cheek), seven shapes burst through the undergrowth, surrounding us. And when I got a look at them, my eyes almost popped out of my head.

There were three males and four females, and they all wore medieval-looking armour and bore similarly primitive weapons. And none of them could possibly be real.

Two of the males were reptilian in appearance, one with gray-green scales, the other with bluish-green. Their faces were long, snouted, almost like overgrown snakes, and they had large ‘beards’ of fins, as well as fins on their shoulders. A frill of bright green fins was raised on each of their spines, and down their long tails. Both wore only leather loincloths and bore large tridents.

One of the males and a female were largely human-looking, aside from their ruddy skin tones and black nails. Oh, and the huge black-feathered wings sprouting from their backs. They were also stunningly attractive, and wore shiny black plate armour. The man held an ornate, broad-bladed spear in both hands, while the woman had a massive shield on one arm and an equally massive sword in her other hand.

Another female was somewhat reptilian, with yellow-green scales, and a large frill of fins around her head, though her face was more human than lizard, with a mixture of skin and scales. Noticeably different from the two reptilian men, however, was the set of four arms she had, and the long tail that replaced her legs. A complicated collection of fabrics adorned her chest, and a long loincloth was wrapped around where her waist would have been had she been human. She held a matching set of four wicked-looking curved swords.

The final two females were twins as far as I could tell, with nearly-white skin and slender, lithe bodies, which they covered with scant amounts of material – one with small gold-trimmed red plates that must’ve been held in place by fucking glue, and the other with bands of ornate violet and gold-trimmed cloth draped from thin golden chains. The ‘armoured’ one had shockingly red hair and held an ornate rapier, while the other was silver-haired and carried a slender glaive. Both had large, black bat wings sprouting from their backs.

“I truly must thank you for causing My Lord’s aura to react to your magics, little angel,” the silver-haired twin said, and I recognized her as the one who spoke from hiding, with her strange voice that seemed almost to trill as she spoke (a lot like the Siren unit from Warcraft III, I realized once I’d thought about it, though her actual voice was different than the voice lines from that game – higher pitch and softer). “It allowed me to finally find Him, after years of fruitless searching. But now, I’m afraid you must die.” She didn’t sound at all upset by that.

She looked at me, and I was momentarily captivated by her bright, violet eyes. “Come, My Lord, step away from that vile angel, and we will take you home.”

I blinked after a moment upon realizing she was talking to me. “Wh-what do you mean? Why are you calling me a lord?” I glanced around at the others, noticing absently that the red-haired twin’s eyes matched her sister’s. “Who are you?”

The silver-haired woman smiled kindly. “Of course, you must be confused, My Lord. I doubt anyone you’ve met until now was aware of the birthright that awaits you. The simple version is that we,” she gestured to her six companions, “are the Sins of the Ashmodaen, sent by Lady Irilith to find you, My Lord, for you are the Inheritor of the Throne of the Ashmodaen.” She bowed slightly, a hand over her heart. “I am terribly sorry that we did not arrive sooner, when this angel,” she spat at Angela, “was threatening your life. We were across the continent in Alaska when your aura became active.”

Straightening, she flourished her glaive, glaring daggers at Angela. “Now please, My Lord, step away from her, and we will eliminate her and take you home.”

My mind whirled. This couldn’t possibly be happening. None of this could possibly be real. I glanced at Angela, then did a double-take. Were those… wings on her back?

Faintly, with a golden glow around them, I could see a pair of white dove wings sprouting from Angela’s back. She looked at me, then scowled slightly more than she already was, and with a bright flash, the wings became fully visible, and a long sword appeared in her hands, virtually an exact replica of her dagger from earlier aside from being several times larger. She kept the sword pointed down, though she seemed ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

“My Lord,” the silver-haired woman said, and I turned towards her. This was all insane, but if it was real…

“If what you say is true,” I said slowly, carefully choosing my words, “then I am technically your boss, right?”

The silver-haired woman glanced at her twin, then looked back at me and nodded. “Yes, My Lord,” she replied, a hint of cautious intrigue in her voice.

“So you would have to do what I say, correct?” I pressed, hoping this would work. Another confirmation. “Then, as your… er, Lord, I command that you take the… angel as a prisoner – relieve her of her weapon, but do not harm her unless there is no other choice. Understood?” I looked at Angela and almost laughed at the incredulous look she was giving me. A look mirrored by all the ‘Sins of the Ash-whatevers.’ At least, as far as I could tell; the two reptile-men’s faces were inhuman enough to be hard to read, but I think it was something like incredulity.

“My Lord,” the red-haired twin said, her voice nearly identical to her sister’s, “a Guardian Angel can summon her weapon to her at any time – we cannot prevent her from being able to hold it at her whim without the use of powerful sealing magicks, which we cannot work here and now.”

I looked at Angela. “I don’t think she has any interest in dying today. And if killing me was really her only goal at the moment, she would have done so when I was unconscious – or tried since we’ve all started talking.” After a tense moment of staring hard at me, Angela sighed and nodded, then held out her sword to the nearest of the seven surrounding us, one of the lizardmen, who took it cautiously.

I nodded, once, then looked at the twins again. “She is under my protection,” not that I really could do anything at this point but talk, “and anyone who harms her will answer to me. Am I clear?”

The twins regarded me with mixed expressions of confusion, caution, and respect. Then they nodded simultaneously, and the seven came closer together.

“I am going to Gate us to the Ashmodaen stronghold on Earth, My Lord,” the silver-haired twin said. “Assuming this will be your first experience Gating, you may feel… ill. However, the magic is harmless, and any discomfort you experience will pass quickly.”

I swallowed, then nodded. Returning my nod, she closed her eyes and started to speak silently. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight.

Suddenly, there was a wrenching across every single fibre in me, as if everything was being stirred up by a blender, and then we were standing in a bare, stone room.

I almost fell to my knees, but managed to keep my feet under me and just leaned heavily on my legs, bent over and gasping. Man that was unpleasant.

After a few moments the effect passed, and I straightened. Most of the others had moved towards the one door in the room, but the twins were still standing near me. The silver-haired one smiled softly at me. “How are you feeling, My Lord?”

I chuckled slightly. “Better than I was a moment ago. Is it always like that?”

She shook her head. “No, after the first four or five times you’ll hardly notice. In fact, the second Gate is hardly half as bad as the first.”

I smiled. “Good. I would hate to imagine going through that every time you had to be anywhere fast.” I frowned and tilted my head. “Is that how you got from Alaska to the continental States so quickly? I assume it’s only been an hour or so since I encountered Angela, but I… seem to have fallen asleep when she drove me into the forest.”

She shook her head. “Partially – the stronghold is closer to where you were in Minnesota than Alaska, but we still had a ways to go; and yes, from the moment you encountered the angel,” she spat the word, “it’s been about one hours and twenty minutes. Anyways, Gating only works between Gates or to return to a Gate you know intimately from anywhere – as I helped construct this one,” she gestured to the floor, and I then noticed the various runes and sigils and shapes that appeared painted onto it in blood-red paint, “I can return to it with no issue.”

I nodded slowly, thinking over what she said. “Okay, so how did you get across hundreds of miles in an hour?”

A grin answered me. “Short-ranged teleportation is quite simple once you get the hang of it, and experts can string many together quickly.”

The red-haired twin grunted, forestalling any of my further questions. “We shouldn’t take any longer. Lady Irilith is expecting us.”

Her sister nodded, her expression becoming serious. “Right.” She beckoned to me, then turned towards the door. “This way, My Lord. Lady Irilith is quite… eager to meet with you.”

I took a deep breath, then followed, the others of the group falling to a rough formation around me, keeping Angela on the other side of two of my new protectors at all times. Emerging from the Gate room, I was surprised when we entered a hallway made of concrete rather than stone.

“Hey uh,” I began, then paused when I realized I didn’t know anyone’s name aside from Angela. “Er, you know, I never caught your guys’ names.”

Ahead, the silver-haired woman laughed softly. “Of course, how silly of me. I am Neida, and my sister is Naide. We are Succubi. The Naga is Atzesz, Sarn and Gadok are the Izaril, and the Cadei are Kellos and Diae.”

With the exception of Naide, everyone glanced over as they were named, so I figured out that the snake-bodied woman was Atzesz the Naga, the lizardmen were the Izaril (Sarn the gray-green one and Gadok the bluish-green), and the two with the black dove wings were the Cadei, Kellos the man and Diae the woman.

“Thanks,” I said. “I was wondering, where are we? You’re all wearing medieval-looking armor and using swords and spears and stuff, so when you asid ‘stronghold’ I thought of a castle or something. But this looks like concrete, like we’re in the basement of a modern building. And how far did we Gate?”

Neida looked over her shoulder at me, smiling. “The stronghold itself is regularly renovated to meet modern standards of appearance, as well as to install any modern technologies or comforts that require less upkeep than a magical equivalent. It originally was a castle, but over the centuries it’s been a manor, a villa, a fort, and now a mansion – magic allows a lot of flexibility in that way.

“Likewise, it’s been located in Italy, Russia, and Britain, and is currently about a two-hour drive from Minneapolis.” Despite the fantastical things she was saying, Neida’s voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact.

Oh, cool, no big deal, we only Gated four hours away in the space of a second! I thought to myself. Then, as we mounted a set of stairs, I glanced around and realized I was completely lost. I spent the rest of the walk examining the much more finely-furnished hallways and rooms of the upstairs floor. Or at least it was upstairs from where we had been; this could be the actual basement and we just came from a sublevel! The lack of any windows outside left that a mystery.

After another three minutes of walking, passing by numerous paintings and statues and potted plants and shelves of knickknacks and doodads and all sorts of other stuff, we came to a pair of double-doors, each decorated with gold designs and large ring knockers.

Neida shot a dark look at Angela. “Remember, angel, you breathe only because of My Lord’s mercy. Be sure to demonstrate your gratitude to Lady Irilith, lest she contest My Lord’s decision.”

Angela only glared back in response, and I took a deep breath. Seeing as Neida applied what I assumed was the same rank to both Irilith and I, this Lady probably had a lot of pull with everyone around here – not to mention she was certain to know a lot more than I did about… well, everything that was going on. But still, if I really was some sort of ‘heir to the throne’ or something, then wouldn’t that place me above Irilith? Unless this was a feudal setup and I was just a fief lord while she was the queen. Though, given the amount of deference Neida and the others were giving me, I doubted that last bit.

Neida stepped forward and grabbed one of the knockers, then struck three measured beats. A second passed, the doors swung open, and our group moved forward into… well. Imagine a throne room coupled with the raunchiest depiction of a Roman party you can think of. Scenes from Sparticus come to mind. Now throw in half of the creatures from the Dungeons and Dragons’ Monster Manual, and you might have a decent idea of what we walked into.

The room was a massive, domed heptagonal space, with seven pillars lined up with the corners. Another set of doors like the ones we came in through stood on the wall three faces to our right, and a raised dias took up most of the space against the wall two spaces to our left.

There were roughly three dozen people in the throne room, a few of recently-familiar races, but many more new to me, including avians, insectoids,various aquatic-looking people, draconians, and some that just looked plain monstrous. The most numerous people, however, were those that looked largely like Neida and Naide, both women and men. I knew enough to figure they were succubi and incubi. And while there wasn’t much overtly sexual activity going on (at least, not at first glance), though there was a lot of very sensuous touching and pressing of bodies, and nearly everyone was dressed scantily and some were practically naked – if not entirely so.

The raised dias was home to a large throne, which itself was raised up even more on it’s own dias. Upon it sat a woman I assumed was another succubus, though she had some differences from my twin companions. For one, a pair of large, curled horns adorned her head. She also had cloven hooves for feet, and I could see a slender spade-tipped tail placidly waving behind her.

She was also functionally nude, wearing only jewelry and tiny strips of sheer, colorful cloth. A half-dozen people of various races, both male and female, all nude but for metal collars, were around the throne’s dias; some simply lounged, others caressed and touched the regal succubus, one held an ornate pitcher (though whether it was water, wine, or something else, I wasn’t sure), and another a platter of several finger-foods like grapes.

My escort made a beeline straight for the throne, and as we approached, I took my time to examine the woman occupying it, who could only be Lady Irilith. She was raven-haired, her straight, silky hair falling to her waist where it wasn’t elaborately braided or curled – she somehow managed to have a ton of different hairstyles going on all at once, and made each look spectacular, both individually and as a whole. Her skin was slightly oranged, as though tanned, but I somehow knew this unusual tint was her natural complexion. The skin towards her hooves slowly graduated into almost scale-like tissue below the knee, which had a black color to it. Her horns were adorned with more jewelry, including rings and chains, the latter of which hung freely, connected back to the horn, or were anchored to piercings in her ears around which the norn circled.

When we entered, the room was abuzz with conversation, and Lady Irilith herself was talking with a man who looked similar to her – wings, hooves, horns, and tail – though he was wearing fancy robes that covered most of his body. But as we passed through the room, the background conversations slowly died, and Lady Irilith and her visitor turned their attention to us.

Or, more specifically, me. I could feel the weight of every set of eyes in the room landing on me. Talk about nerve-wracking.

As we took the pair of steps to the first dias, Irilith’s visitor spoke a few words to her, then quietly back away and off the throne’s dias to stand on the same level as the rest of the crowd, though apart from it. Lady Irilith herself stood, a radiant, eager smile on her face as she descended from the dias towards us.

“Neida,” she said, in a voice like the smoothest silk, and perfectly pitched to make my heart ache and my blood surge in desire, “I assume that this is Our Lord, finally found and brought home?”

We came to a halt just as her question ended, and Neida bowed low, one hand over her heart while the other swept out to the side, her feet crossing in what was almost a curtsy. “Indeed, Lady Irilith. I present to you Our Lord, the Inheritor of the Throne of the Ashmodaen, Descendant of Ashmedai himself,” she announced before straightening.

Irilith beamed even wider. “Excellent!” she said, before her gaze slid sideways onto Angela, and her gorgeous features smoothly transitioned into a look of pure disgust, her chin raising as she looked down her nose at the police officer. “And what, pray tell, is an angel doing in Our Lord’s presence?”

Neida stiffened, then bowed again, though this time without the flourishes, and even lower. “My Lady…” she began, uncertainty clear in her voice.

“I brought her with.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

Irilith’s gaze slid back onto me, still dark, but curious now, her head chanted to one side. “If I may ask, My Lord: why?”

I swallowed, already regretting opening my mouth. But despite that regret, a response formed, alongside a friendly smile. “From what I understand, the only reason Neida and the Sins of the Ashmodaen were able to find me was because my aura was activated by her. It seems wrong, to me, to reward such a gift with death.” I had no idea where such a diplomatic answer came from – nor the strength in my voice to deliver it cleanly, without stammering – but I hoped that it would stick around for at least a while longer.

A chorus of murmurs started up in the crowd, and Irilith’s gaze became piercing. She glanced at Angela, then back at me, a small smile growing on her face. “Do you wish to Bind her, My Lord?”

I blinked. “I…” Pausing, I glanced around the room, acutely aware of the impression me admitting my ignorance would likely form. Of course, that’s assuming that everyone here didn’t already know how clueless I was. “Perhaps, Lady Irilith, we might continue this conversation as… less of a spectacle? Any announcement that needs to be made can surely be made some other time.” Thank you mysterious diplomatic powers!

Irilith’s eyes swept across the room, then she watched me for a moment. Finally, she nodded, and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. Like magic, the crowd began to disperse, some vanishing in puffs of smoke or flashes of light, others turning towards the nearest exit and walking – or sliding, hopping, or whatever mode of ambulation was appropriate to their body – out. The last to leave was the incubus that had been talking to Irilith. He looked across all of us before nodding once, turning on his heel, and disappearing in a flash of violet, smokeless flames.

When the crowd was cleared out, all that remained was the Sins of the Ashmodaen, Irilith and her attendants, Angela, and myself. Once the doors were all shut tight – seemingly of their own accord – the bejeweled succubus approached our group, approached me, until she was barely five feet away. “Should I assume, My Lord, that you are about as knowledgeable of the realities of all this,” she gestured grandly, encompassing everything around us, “as a newborn babe?”

I smiled a small, embarrassed smile. “That would be an accurate analysis. And please, my name is Lucas. ‘My Lord’ is… well, it makes me uncomfortable.”

Irilith dipped her head gracefully in acquiescence, a sultry smile on her full lips. “Very well… Lucas.” A tiny shiver went up and down my spine when she said my name, triggered by the soft undertones of lust and the sultriness that she spoke with. “If you would prefer, Irilith would be acceptable.” She smiled. “After all, at the end of the day, I am here to serve you – as are we all.”

I swallowed heavily. “About that… Neida gave me the spark notes about what’s going on, but I can’t say I’m not confused… or that I’m totally convinced.”

Irilith laughed softly. “Of course, that is hardly surprising. While we don’t exactly have time for a history lesson right this moment, I suppose a more thorough explanation is in order.

“As you can plainly see, demons and angels and all sorts of other beings most humans consider mythical and legendary truly do exist. We hide in plain sight, behind glamours that deceive human eyes and the tools they employ, and go about our business without their interference.

“This mansion,” she gestured grandly again, “is home of the Ashmodaen – the children of Ashmedai, also known as Asmodeus, the once Demon Prince of Lust. And almost six thousand years ago, Ashmedai vanished, leaving only a message saying that his eventual heir would one day come to claim his throne.”

“And you think I’m that heir?” My voice nearly cracked with the question.

Irilith smiled. “You are the heir – one needs only sense your aura to know it without question.”

“Okay, and what, exactly, is an ‘aura?'” I recalled Angela saying something about an aura – my aura – back in the forest.

Irilith thought for a second, her lips pursing. “Auras are a sort of magical scent, a pressure, a sound beyond hearing, that magical beings can sense. They each have a unique presence to them, like a person’s voice, or their scent. And yours positively oozes of the Sin of Lust.”

I rubbed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose for a long moment. “Okay, so… what happens now?”

Irilith smiled sympathetically. “I suppose there are two options before you, Lucas: you can become the new Demon Prince of Lust – the new Ashmodai; or, you can walk away, return to your former life, and probably be found again – maybe by a demon, maybe by the host, or possibly by some other – and very likely die or be enslaved.”

I sighed. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. I’d been completely ignorant of any of this just over an hour ago, but that hadn’t stopped Angela from trying to kill me. “So my options are to become a Demon Prince or die eventually, probably sooner?” Irilith nodded. “Well, I can’t say I fancy dying anytime soon. What happens if I become this… new Demon Prince?”

“It will not be instant, nor fast, Lucas,” Irilith cautioned me. “Demons gain power through Pacts and Bonds – pacts between allies, mentors, and rulers, and Bonds between a master and a thrall. Ashmedai, when he left, had over three hundred Pacts and Bonds.”

I blinked. “Wait, you mean… when you asked if I wanted to Bond Angela, you were saying… you mean make her my slave?”

Irilith nodded, smiling excitedly, though her tone was still conversational. “Binding an angel would be a wonderful start, not only for your personal power, but also to prove to your subjects that you are the rightful Heir to the Throne. Angels, while generally repressed sexually – the poor prudes – are not only motherlodes of power for you to claim, but excellent pets once properly trained to serve.” Irilith eyed Angela lustily. “This one is quite attractive, and decently powerful – above average for a Guardian Angel.” She took an exaggerated sniff in Angela’s direction, then tsked, making a slightly disappointed face. “Diligence Virtue, unfortunately. It would be so delightfully ironic if she was of Chastity – they are so much fun to tame.”

I looked at Angela, deciding to ignore the obvious implications of sexual slavery (though I wasn’t terribly surprised – we were talking about demons of lust here), who was still looking at the floor. “But… what if she doesn’t want to be my… my thrall?”

Both Angela and Irilith gave me a sharp look. “In many situations,” the succubus said slowly, her voice thoughtful, “the creation of a Bond is done without full knowledge on the part of the Thrall-to-be. Angela, being an angel, knows more than the average Thrall about Bonds, so she could prevent it from forming. However, we have enough power between myself and the Sins to force the ritual, should she refuse to cooperate. If, for whatever reason, you decide not to Bind her, the only viable alternative is death – we cannot expect to keep a Guardian angel prisoner without inciting the wrath of the Host – they may be… irritated about the Binding of an angel, but it is an… accepted consequence of our skirmishes, and likewise should the host deign to ‘purify’ a demon (though that’s rarely the case). And we cannot allow her to simply go free, not knowing what she does of you and this stronghold.”

I looked at Angela, who was watching me with a guarded expression. None of those choices were good ones – any way you sliced it, she was getting the end of a stick that had been used to stir up a bunch of shit. “It’s a crappy choice,” I eventually said to her, “but I can’t make it for you.”

She, along with everyone else, stared hard at me. Then she set her jaw. “I have no desire to die,” she said, without a waver in her voice, her chin rising slightly… in pride? “But at the same time, becoming Bonded to a future Demon Prince? That isn’t my idea of a great career choice.” With a small sigh, she turned her gaze downward, staring at nothing.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath, then looked up at me. “I’ll become your thrall. On one condition: if I ask, you will kill me, and release me from my servitude. If those are my two choices, then I want to keep that choice.”

I gulped, but nodded, setting my jaw. “If that is your wish.” Then I turned to Irilith. “So, how do we do this? Is there some sort of incantation or a ritual or…”

The succubus smiled. “Angela, first Lucas must know your real name – though I must say, I appreciate the humor of your choice in human name.”

The angel swallowed, taking another deep breath. “Alnariel.”

Irilith nodded. “And Lucas, though that is the name you have had all your life, Bonds and Pacts are only formed by Demons, and ‘Lucas’ is not the name of a demon. Since no name was bestowed upon you when you were a child, you must choose your own.”

I blinked. That was… not something I was ready for. “Okay, so… what are demon names? I assume Lucifer is taken?” I was relieved by the chuckles that got. At least I was still passably funny.

“You needn’t worry about what other demons are called,” Irilith reassured me. “Simply concentrate on what your own name could be, and it will come to you.”

That so didn’t help. The demon names I knew were too varied to even have an idea where to start, if any of the ones I’d heard were accurate. You had names from theology, like Belial or Beelzebub, or from games or movies, like Sargeras or Aku. And that’s only counting the Abrahamic demons, Warcraft, and Samurai Jack! The rest of the world still had theological demons to consider, and popular media probably had demons beyond counting.

Then suddenly, despite my inner panic, my mind calmed. Imgethisoth Geith Asmedeai Celom N’thimbe Kothc Kurs. There was a certainty, a sort of knowing, as the words, the names filled my mind.

“I am Imgethisoth, Heir of Ashmedai, Demon Prince, and Lord of Lust.” As I said it, I had a much greater understanding of what it all meant, in a vague and blurred sort of way. And I knew both how to Pact and Bind – was the sudden knowledge of demon language somehow unlocking some sort of ancestral memories or something? Turning to Angela, to Alnariel, I spoke, intoned, though with slight changes: “I offer Binding Words and their Bonds to Alnariel, Guardian Angel of the Host. Serve faithfully and eagerly, and reap the rewards as a Thrall of the Ashmodaen, until released from your servitude by death.”

Alnariel gasped, a blush coloring her cheeks, but there was a tension, a resistance. She was fighting the ritual, testing her limits; it only lasted for a few moments before a satisfied look entered her eyes and she relaxed, the tension disappearing, and she offered her wrists to me as if in a trance. “I accept your Binding Words and their Bonds, and pledge to serve, faithfully and eagerly, to reap the rewards as a Thrall of the Ashmodaen, until released from your service by death.”

When she finished her part of the Binding, I took her wrists in my hands. A burning sensation, not like fire but arousal, coursed down my arms, through my fingers, and I could sense it coil around Alnariel’s wrists before coursing up her arms and through the rest of her body. She cried out as the pleasure struck her, and with a violet shimmer, a pair of manacles, smooth and golden with purple trim, formed around her wrists, and so did a collar, likewise smooth and golden with trimmings of purple, around her neck. Her Bonds each had a ring set in them – on the inside of her wrists for her manacles and at her throat on her collar – and I could see ethereal impressions of chains depending from each ring, not quite real, but needing only the slightest push from my magic to take solid form. Most shockingly, however, was the disappearance of her police uniform, which was replaced by a sheer, tissue-thin violet gown with golden trim. Her hair was also now loose, falling past her shoulders in silky golden waves.

I stared at the angel for a long moment, overwhelmed by awe at her beauty and lust for her, before it struck me. I could feel my magic! And I could sense the auras of everyone in the room! While most of the auras were muddled, all mixed together as my new sense struggled to figure out how to make heads or tails of them, Alnariel’s was almost blindingly clear, with a sense like… honey in crystal water on a spring day in a forest meadow. Irilith was right, auras were like every sense in one, but using some other sense that I simply didn’t have words for.

Blinking to try and clear the new sensations, I huffed a small laugh. “Well, that just… yeah.”

Smiling proudly, Irilith turned slightly and gestured for a pair of her attendants to approach, two succubi with vivid russet skin and blood-red hair, and crimson lips, nipples, and labia. They both had heterochromia, and while matching, were opposite: one had a left eye of flaming orange and a right eye like a ruby, while the other had a flaming right eye and a ruby left. Their collars were black leather, unlike the metal that Irilith’s other attendants had, and they had spade tails and horns which flowed back along the top of their heads from where they sprouted on their foreheads, as well as hooves and wings; the demonic parts had a dark blue tint to them, while the hard, bony material of their hooves and horns and the single talon in each wing were pitch black. Both were voluptuous and curvy, with tits nearly as big as their heads and round, plump asses. Their hair fell loose to the waist in waves and while unstyled, seemed to naturally flow in opposite ways, towards their ruby eyes. They also had a natural, but kempt, thatch of pubic hair covering their mounds. Aside from the collars, both were completely bare and unmarked, unlike all the other attendants, who had tattoos, jewelry or seductive cloths of some kind or another adorning their bodies.