"Alex is so scared right now," Rachel said with obvious worry. She tugged the black cargo pants on over her hips, having already donned the Sisters of Mercy t-shirt thrown into the warding circle by Molly. The shirt had gone on right over and through her wings. "If you were really doing this to protect him, you could at least call him and tell him I'm okay. He's on his bike and he's so fucking freaked out that he could get in a serious accident."
"We're not going to do anything you say until we figure out for sure what you are," Onyx said quietly but firmly.
"I told you. I'm his guardian angel."
"Never heard of anyone sleeping with their guardian angel," Molly frowned.
Rachel shot her an irritated, resentful look. "Alex is kind of a special case." The angel made a point of holding her tongue. She had more than a few choice words for these two, but gaining release and returning to Alex as quickly as possible was the issue of overriding urgency. Rachel's foul mouth was certainly not a symptom of tactlessness.
"Why's that?" Onyx asked evenly.
Rachel opened her mouth, then closed it. "You obviously know a good deal of magic. You read his palm. I imagine you did other things to look him over before you made love with him, too. You recognized how special he was after your first kiss. Those were the first words out of your mouth: 'This is really special.'
You knew from that moment that you could trust him with every imaginable intimacy. And as much as you truly and deeply love your girlfriend here," Rachel noted, glancing meaningfully at Molly, "you can't deny to yourself that making love with Alex was one of the happiest, most wonderful and fulfilling experiences of your life. You never expected to open yourself to him the way you did, nor to be let into his heart as you were. Not so quickly. But you were, and you long to resume that connection."
"It's not because he's so good in bed," Rachel continued to her stunned listeners. "It's because he's a good soul, and your awareness of the universe makes you more sensitive to that than most people will ever be."
Onyx's eyes were wide. Molly looked to her with concern.
"She'll never leave you," Rachel added calmly, looking at Molly. "Whatever her feelings for Alex might become, you are first in her heart. Onyx loves you like no other. You define and embody love in her heart and her mind. She loves you and accepts you and would never, ever do anything to hurt you. Much of what made her time with Alex so special was the ever-present thought that she owed all of that happiness to you and your approval. She saw him in part as if he was a gift from you. He's not a rival. There can be no rival."
"...huh," Molly said.
Rachel looked to Onyx. "Your partner loves you every bit as much as you love her," she said. "She doesn't want you to worry about anything. She's a bit shocked right now, but she doesn't want to come between you and the intimacy you have found with my Alex. If anything, she wants to find a way to become more of a part of it herself, entirely because of her love and her desire to be close to you. What you feel for one another is beautiful beyond description.
"I am an angel. There is nothing I understand as much as I understand love."
There was a long silence. Rachel sniffed. Tears welled up in her eyes. "He's really scared for me. He's rushing home because he probably hopes to find help there, and he doesn't know what else to do."
Onyx finally drew in a long, deep breath. Her back stiffened. "Well," she breathed, "now that we've established that you were watching me with Alex on Friday without my knowing it..."
Rachel let out a frustrated breath, looking upward. "Oh, fucking hell," she groaned. "I try to say something nice to you bitches, and—"
Then she stopped. Rachel gasped, and then looked at the other two women in terrible fear. "Something's wrong," the angel declared. Her eyes darted back and forth as if she was watching something far away. "I can't see him!"
************
The moment the heavy door opened, Lorelei could smell him. The ashen scent was so unmistakable and unforgettable that it renewed every bit of crushing fear and despair within her. She didn't even need to look up at him. She didn't want to look up at him.
"Chained, collared and muzzled, and yet still killing," came his voice. It was as deep and sinister as she remembered, yet perfectly relaxed.
Shadows of multiple people moved across the bare concrete floor. Lorelei was huddled on her knees as they entered, forced into the position by the very short length of the chains that connected her wrists and her neck to the floor. A metal muzzle had been fastened around her head with heavy leather straps. The succubus was dressed only in her black nightgown, now tattered and torn and stained with dirt, ash and a great deal of her own blood.
Lorelei leaned over to sit with the side of one cut and bruised thigh against the floor. She would not kneel before him again.
Lights went on in the room of nearly featureless concrete. Beside Lorelei was a pile of ashes, along with a set of men's clothing: jeans, leather vest with a motorcycle club patch, boots and sunglasses. A foot in dress shoes attached to a leg in tailored slacks kicked the pile. "Who was the idiot who thought he could rape a succubus? Did he think she was put in this dungeon for the sake of kink?" he asked. There was mild amusement in the voice.
"My people were advised to do everything possible to break her short of maiming her," answered a calm voice with an English accent. "I'm sure it seemed like a good idea to someone."
"No one can take a succubus against her will except her master. This fool probably died before he even came close to fucking her. Am I right, Lorelei?" A man's hand reached down to grab Lorelei's chin. It pulled up with enough strength that she could not effectively resist. She stared up into the smoky eyes and ashen breath of Ba'al and his current host body.
"I trust, Lord Damien," said Lydia with no small amount of sarcasm as she used his title, "that there will be no need for further examples of this?"
"None whatsoever, madam," the English voice answered.
Lydia looked off to one corner. There were other metal fixtures imbedded in the concrete where one could chain prisoners, but there was only one other occupant in the basement prison. Near one wall across from Lorelei was a woman, similarly but less restrictively chained, dressed in faded jeans, hiking boots and a flannel shirt. Her brown hair hung limply to her shoulders. The woman was perhaps pretty but for the fact that she clearly hadn't been allowed to bathe for days. "Who is that?" the succubus asked.
"A local matter," Damien answered stiffly. "It is the Lady's business. She isn't to be physically harmed. If you require us to remove her, we shall."
"No physical harm," Lydia mused, "but no reason to hide from her these unspeakable things."
"When and if she is eventually released, it will be good for her to carry back to her family her impression of how we deal with our problems in the Lady's lands."
"I see," Lydia said. She smiled at the woman, who stared back at her balefully. The prisoner seemed to be perhaps in her mid-twenties. "And clearly so does she."
Ba'al ignored all of this as he was completely focused on Lorelei. He reached out to stroke Lorelei's hair, which of course she resisted. The demon lord smiled. "Lydia told me you were in much worse shape than this," he said with feigned concern. "Well, maybe not in the immediate sense of the word," he corrected, glancing at the blood on his hand and smearing it lewdly on her nightgown. "But she said you had sustained far worse injuries than these. Clearly you've been working... but not for Belial anymore."
Lorelei glared at him, but was unable to do much more. Her eyes then turned away.
"How long has it been, Lorelei?" Ba'al asked. "Twenty-five hundred years at least? Two and a half millennia since you were on your knees for me."
"If I might be so bold," spoke up a new voice, "how does a succubus leave the service of a mighty duke such as yourself?"
"You are bold, Lord Stefan," Ba'al grinned, still looking at Lorelei. "But we've shared this much. I will indulge you with the simple answer. I was once a lesser duke than I am now. Belial stood in my way. I crushed him and ascended. Yet in the ensuing chaos, what with Belial wanting revenge and the upheaval that resulted, the other dukes... demanded a token of truce. A consolation prize, if you will. Together, they were far too powerful to deny. All saw Belial for the loser that he was, but to placate him and allow the rest of the Pit to move on, I gave him Lorelei.
"I'm sure he took those frustrations out on you, didn't he, my sweet?" Ba'al said to Lorelei, who still did not look at him. "Perhaps that's why you made such an effort to do so well here in the mortal realm. The better you did up here, the less reason to call you back to the Pit to perform directly for your master. I'll be very pleased to have you back in my service. That will allow Lydia here to remain in the mortal realm herself, where she has done so well. You can stay in my domain and keep me entertained."
Lorelei didn't bother to hide her disgust or her hate. She made no noise, but the change in her eyes was clear. She would sooner stride into the Vatican and face the wrath of the angels there.
A phone buzzed. "Yes?" Damien asked. He listened silently. "Excellent. Thank you." Then he turned to Baal. "Our people have Carlisle. They are on the way here with him. It should be roughly twenty minutes. One of Lord Stefan's associates and one of our best soldiers have remained to clean up any concerning evidence from Lorelei's recovery."
"You used to be better about hiding your emotions," Baal said to Lorelei as her eyes clamped shut. "Lord Stefan, please have your people enact the warding of these premises as soon as he arrives. How long will your specialist need?"
"Once Carlisle is here? An hour, perhaps two at the most."
"Time enough to amuse yourself, Lydia?"
"My master is too kind," Lydia answered. "Lord Blackthorne, might someone bring down a large table to this room? Something large enough to lay a man out and restrain him. Something very stable."
"This will in fact suit our needs as well," Stefan added.
"It can certainly be arranged, madam. Lord Stefan."
"Splendid," Lydia smiled. "Thank you."
"Have someone come down and clean Lorelei here up, too," Baal said. "I wouldn't want her to attend Lady Anastacia's party upstairs in such a state."
"It will be done," Blackthorne consented, stepping away to relay commands to guards near the door.
As he did, Stefan and Lydia exchanged a meaningful glance. "Do your work well," she said softly, "and we will settle the issue of whose celebration this is before Ba'al takes his leave. None will doubt who has his final favor."