Night Bound - Part 2: The Lesser of Two Evils?

by Wolfe

Chapters: 9 • 10 • 11 • Night Bound Part 1

Chapter 9

"You understand heaven? You understand hell?" The voice was smooth, silky, laden with sensuous power. The sound swam over her flesh like a thousand electrically charged ants. Her back arched in pleasure and her muscles threatened to spasm with the touch of it.

"Mmmm," was all she could reply. Her mind seemed to be floating, semi-detached from her body. But she did not want to float away. She wanted to be there for it. Be there for the sensation. The pleasure. The pain. The sensation was all she was. There were no thoughts, save those inspired by the voice. There were no memories, save for the memories of the sensation. There was no future, save for anticipation.

And she did anticipate. She wanted. She needed.

"Please," she croaked.

"What, my child? What is it you desire?"

"More. Please. I want more."

The silence was agony, though some shred of her old awareness told her that it was but a moment.

"My child. My special child."

Warm flesh met her lips then, and she was filled with an indescribable joy, for she had kissed the lips of her Queen. And they began again. And they violated her body, filled her beyond measure through every point she could offer. And then there was pain, searing delicious agony that burned to her core as her flesh was carved and violated and rendered asunder. Over and over again they violated every fiber of her being.

Then they made her whole again. And they waited, and the only sound was of the girl babbling, pleading.

"Please...please don't stop, please don't stop, oh, my Queen, don't, don't let them stop..."

The entreaty continued in a continuous stream as her small body writhed against the chains binding her to the stone altar.

"My child." She almost cried at the sound. The voice was so beautiful. It was almost unbearable. "I believe you are as ready as I can make you. It is time. It is time to let you go. For you have an important job to do, sweet Elizabeth."

"No," she denied it! It couldn't possibly be. "No, I want to stay, with you, here, forever!"

"And one day you shall. One day you will be mine for eternity." The voice was calming, mellifluous. But a great sense of loss welled up within her. The idea of being parted from her Queen was more than her soul could bear. Now Elizabeth began to cry.

"Shhh, my child." The voice said, soothing like a mother with her newborn. "I promise you will be returned to me. But first, you are going to help me destroy Wilhelmina Murray."

The blonde-haired girl tried to choke back her tears.

"Yes, my Queen," Elizabeth promised, between sobs.

*****

"Aaaah!"

Elizabeth woke. For a moment her mind was a void, empty of all thought and knowledge. For an aching moment she was a blank slate, untroubled by memories, fears or doubts. It was tranquility. It could not last. Her mind returned to her with a rushing cacophony of sensations, thoughts and recollections. Elizabeth's eyes exploded open and she sat bolt upright.

She was in her room, in her bed, under her sheets. The recognition of these warm familiar surroundings sent a wave of relief flowing through her. "Golly-what a dream!" was the first new thought she formed, as the waves of memory swirled in great tidal waves around her skull. Her thoughts were laden with relief and disappointment in about equal proportions. The dream had seemed so real, so intense. She peered suspiciously around her, staring into the dim recesses of her darkened room. Moonlight threw objects into stark relief whenever they were touched by the silvery beams, but the lunar glow served to cast shadows as dark as pitch where it did not penetrate.

As far as she could tell, this was definitely her room. Everything was so familiar, so reassuring. As Elizabeth lay there, a thought popped into her mind, and she raised the sheets and looked down.

"Why am I naked?" An interesting question. She had never gone to sleep naked before - it just wasn't the done thing for a young lady to do. She would have to get up early and put her slip on before Gwen, their maid, intruded upon her. Right now she was simply too tired.

A monstrous yawn escaped her and she rolled onto her side. Her sleep dulled brain idly tried to recall when it was she had gone to bed that evening. But everything was foggy and soon she drifted off to sleep-a contented half-smile playing upon her lips.

*****

Elizabeth realized she was awake. Light streamed through the gaps in the curtains, warming the side of her face. She blinked stupidly as she rose from the mire of unconsciousness into waking reality. A spontaneous stretch engulfed her body and, languorously, she stretched from tip to toe, then settled back down to doze. A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

"Come," she called, rolling over to bring the door into view.

Delicately the door opened. A head poked into her boudoir, a familiar grin on that familiar face.

Elizabeth gasped and sat straight up. "Golly fuck! Azrael!"

"None other, baby," he said, broadening his grin. His eyes flicked downwards slightly. "Mmmm, that is a nice welcome. I'm flattered."

She stared at him for a moment then, in a flash of comprehension, looked down at herself. She gave a yelp and pulled the bedcovers up to her throat.

"But, but..." she stammered.

I'll look at it later," he quipped cheerily, backing into room with a tray in his hands, "but first we gotta get you fed."

The tray carried breakfast upon it. Azrael sat it down upon the bed gingerly. Elizabeth regarded the contents with suspicion bred of confusion. The items seemed perfectly normal - toast, eggs, jam, rashers of bacon - and she wasn't exactly why they shouldn't be normal. It was just that the whole situation had gone from perfectly ordinary to bizarre in the blink of an eye. She returned her gaze to Azrael as her mind struggled to overcome the implications of this turn of events. Had her 'dreams' also been real?

Azrael was sitting on the side of the bed regarding her, a patient benevolent expression on his handsome features. He flicked a gesture toward the tray.

"Eat. Eat," he commanded, nodding enthusiastically with each word.

Elizabeth felt strangely not hungry, but took a piece of toast anyway and began to spread Marmalade upon it.

"Where are Ma'ma and Pa'pa?" she inquired as casually as possible.

"Not here."

"I see. Where would they be then?"

"A long way away. But closer than you think."

"Oh."

She finished preparing her toast for consumption and bit into it. It was curiously tasteless and unappetizing. Elizabeth put the food down with a slight frown and looked at Azrael-still trying to catch up with events.

"Am I to take it that last nights..." Elizabeth tried to put a positive sounding spin on things, "adventure, actually happened?" Truth be told, Elizabeth was quite pleased with her calmness.

"Yup. And a narrow escape we had too. But we made it due to your decisive action in stepping through that gate."

"Oh." Her brow furrowed as she recalled the memory of that moments. That wasn't exactly how she remembered it; vaguely she was aware of a push. Elizabeth started slightly as a thought flashed into her mind.

"Where's Wilhelmina?!" She looked pleadingly at Azrael, suddenly desperate for reassurance. Now she looked into space, her attention inward. "Wilhelmina! Wil, are you there?!"

Elizabeth paused-there was no response. Azrael looked concerned. He leaned forward and touched her shoulder reassuringly.

"There was a storm," he began. "We got separated. I managed to find you, but Wil..." He looked toward the brightness of the windows, the light shining upon him highlighting every detail of his perfect face. "Well, we'll find her soon. I have my people out looking for her." It was unclear whether who he was trying to reassure-Elizabeth or himself. Azrael looked back at her, his smile kindly as Elizabeth stuttered.

"The storm...it..."

"Shhh now," he interrupted her, "all that matters is that you're safe and Wil will be found soon. I'm sure of that."

"Oh." Elizabeth paused. "So, where are we? This looks exactly like my room, but..." she surveyed the room more closely in the sunlight, "it is not."

Azrael looked mildly curious. "How can you tell?"

"Well, for starters, there isn't a drinks cabinet in my room. Ma'ma and Pa'pa wouldn't approve."

Azrael followed her gaze to the glass cabinet, with its assorted bottles and crystal decanters.

"Fletch, you moron," Azrael muttered under his breath, scowling. He returned his attention to her. "It doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

"Nothing. Nothing really matters. What is important is that you are safe and well." He smiled once more. "Now, eat up and get dressed-when you're ready. Then I'll give you a tour of my humble abode."

"Your abode?"

He sighed quietly. "Yes, you are my honored guest now. But I have matters to attend to at this time. If you'll excuse me?"

"Oh. Of course." Elizabeth was still confused. "But, how did you recreate my room in such a short time? The similarity is amazing."

"Willpower."

"Oh." That answer did not lessen her confusion.

"Now, I really must be going." With that he bowed his head, turned upon his heel and left the room. Elizabeth flopped back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Just as things had gone back to normal, they suddenly erupt into a mess of confusion the likes of which she could never have imagined. Still, there were compensations. Azrael was real. She crossed her arms over herself under the sheets, feeling them against her breasts. Hopefully, they'd get to fuck again later, she thought wickedly. After all, she might as well-because when Ma'ma and Pa'pa found her missing her life was as good as forfeit!

Then shame lanced through her system as she remembered what Azrael had said about Wil. Poor Wil! She was lost in the err...storm, without a body and.... Come to think of it, how could Wil get separated and lost when she didn't even have a body?

*****

The door to Elizabeth's room closed with a gentle 'snick'. The pleasant smile disappeared as Azrael took a moment to compose himself. He took a couple of deep breaths. Turning on his heel, he strode down the long, torch lit corridor; his footsteps on the stone floor being surprisingly quiet for such a big man.

The corridor looked almost medieval in its construction and décor. It was broad and the ceiling was likewise high. The torches mounted in brackets on the stone walls at regular intervals gave a good, but flickering illumination, casting jittery, nervous shadows along the passageway, and indeed throughout the entire dwelling. Tapestries bearing ornate but esoteric symbology covered the intervals between the torches, mitigating the austerity of the gray, pitted walls-to a degree.

After navigating through some distance of this seemingly endless corridor, including several twists and turns, Azrael stopped in front on one of the many heavy oak doors that were set into the walls. He took a deep breath once more, jiggled a bit to relax his muscles, and put the pleasant smile back on his hitherto expressionless features. Ready to proceed, he gently turned the ornate brass door handle and stepped into the room; which was pretty much identical to the one he had just been in. Except, of course, the female inside was different.

*****

The naked woman tied to the bed snapped her head toward the door as it opened. For perhaps half a second startled surprise registered on her features, before the expression was replaced with a cold look. The change was a reflexive response, as though through long practiced habit. After a moment more she returned her gaze to the ceiling. Azrael stopped short of the large, four-poster bed and regarded her, his smile broadening into one that verged on triumphant. She was magnificent. Her hands were bound together above her head, while her ankles were spread wide, secured to the beds upright posts. Stretched out there, restrained, exposed and without a stitch of clothing, the woman should have been a picture of defenselessness. Which she was-almost. But there was something in her manner, something intangible about her that, even in this position, she was not his yet. That both frustrated and excited Azrael.

Patience, he reminded himself, it will be soon. So very soon.

He walked around the bed to the other side, his eyes never leaving her as she stared stolidly at the ceiling, as though trying to deny his existence. He stopped now, and regarded her-calmly, appreciatively-as his eyes roamed up and down the length of her flesh. Her body was long, lithe, and athletic. Muscle definition was clearly visible-her biceps, thighs, abdominal muscles were mounds of hardness under her lightly tanned skin. The tension visible in her muscle tone betrayed the nervousness she felt. More silence occupied the time as Azrael stared as his captive, while his captive stared at the roof.

It appeared that her resolve broke first. A confused melee of emotions gripped her stony face for an instance, before her former expression returned. She twitched against her silk bonds, as though reminding herself of their existence then turned her head to look at him.

"Well? Aren't you goin' to say somethin', for fuck's sake?"

"You are so beautiful."

"Liar." Having broken the ice, she returned to staring at the ceiling.

"My beloved Wil-how could you say such a thing? You know you are a goddess in my eyes."

"Yeh, an' your eyes are very fucked up, so let's cut the crap and get to the chase-what the fuck is going on?"

Azrael approached her and sat on the bed, his eyes on her face as she steadfastly refused to make eye contact.

"What the fuck is going on?" he echoed her. "You know what is going on-you're home, baby. You're where you always belonged. Here-with me."

Wil said nothing, continuing to stare upward, though it was possible that a line now creased her forehead.

Azrael leaned across the wide bed until he was close to her; the fingertips on one hand caressing along the ridged lines of her belly. She did not respond to the touch.

"Beautiful," he muttered once more, in an almost dreamy manner.

"Is there some point to all this?"

"Mmmm? Oh, just welcoming you home, my love." He continued to trace her body with his finger for a moment before continuing. "Do you know how you got here?"

"Spit it out then."

"Dear little Elizabeth delivered you here, delivered you from evil. You should thank her. Why, without her assistance I might never have got you away to safety, to this sanctuary."

There was a silence.

"Sure," Wil stated blankly. Then with a hint of urgency, "She's here then? You brought her here?"

"Of course. I couldn't leave her there in the cold now could I? Besides, you were trapped inside her body at the time. I had to bring her back here to get you free."

"Yeh, I'm enjoying my new found freedom now, thanks." She tensed against her bonds lightly. "What have you done to her?"

"Done to her? Whatever do you mean, Wil? The child has been relaxing in comfort, and soon I may show her the entertainments on offer in my humble abode." He paused. "An abode is a house."

"I knew that, asshole." Wil's voice was blank and flat still, but there was a hint of something lurking in her tone as she spoke. "There's no need to keep her here. She's nothing to you now. She can go back home and we can be alone. It'll be just you and me, like how you want it."

"Nothing to me?" He echoed her once more, faux indignation rising in his tone. "I'm shocked you could think I feel so little for my new friend. My little plaything."

"Look!" Wil exploded, rearing up against her bonds, a snarl disfiguring the fine lines of her face. For fuck's sake, send the worthless bitch back to where she came from-I don't wanna see her, gottit?"

"Wil, Wil, Wil," Azrael shook his head gently as he repeated her name as an amused smile played across his lips. "That temper of yours again! You've got to learn to control it or someone will get hurt. Oh, wait. Someone has been hurt by your temper. Many someones in fact."

"Bullshit-you're fucked in the head! An' for fucks sake send the bitch back home!"

He met her glare for a moment before he replied. "It would be poor hospitality to throw dear Miss Chalmers out into the night without thanking her properly before hand. And beside," he leaned a bit closer to her, "she is my property, isn't she? At your suggestion I seem to recall."

"Crap! I just said I couldn't stop you-not for you to do it."

"You hardly begged me not to."

"Bullshit! You're full of bullshit. You always have been. Fuck the stupid bitch then-I don't really give a shit what happens to her dumb ass. What I wanna know is why the fuck am I tied up like this, huh? You gotta point to prove here? Sure, I'm your prisoner-I accept that. Now let me the fuck up!"

"Oh, you wound me, my love! Of course you're not a prisoner. How could you be a prisoner in your own home? Soon you'll be able to come and go as you please. But first you have to recover from your ordeal. And besides, I though you might like to be reminded of the good old times."

Wil opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it, and laid back flat on the bed, flexing her wrists against her bonds.

"Let me up then?"

"As you wish. But first I ask one thing-grant me a kiss on your beautiful lips." Wil regarded the ceiling, and tried to calm her breathing. A tight, strained smile slipped onto her features. "Sure, you have permission for that."

"Thank you."

Wil pursed her lips slightly in preparation, then quickly realized something was wrong as she felt Azrael move in the wrong direction. "Hey! Wait, no! I didn't mean.... Ouuu!"

She cried out in surprise and shock as Azrael's tongue ran up the length of her nether lips, gouging it's way inside of her soft depths, his breath brushing upon modest pubic hair.

"Oh you slimy piece of shit.... Aaaahhh-hey, I said 'a kiss'. That means one, motherfucker! Stop it!!"

Azrael desisted from his ministrations and looked up at her. "Sorry, Wil. How could I have misunderstood?"

"Fuck you, an' let me up." Wil was tugging at the silk knots now with increasing vigor.

"Of course, baby. Time for you to get out of bed, you lazy thing! Get dressed in something nice-I'm sure you'll find many items to choose from in your wardrobe. Then it will be time for lunch and we can get together a have a chat with our friend Elizabeth. Won't that be nice? Allrighty-see you soon."

As Azrael walked towards the door Wil's restraints disappeared. Azrael cast her a glance and a smile. She regarded him sullenly from the bed, sitting up now and massaging her wrists. Her expression did not change until after he had left and she had heard the door close. Then her face dissolved-a strange mixture of fear, sadness and anger struggled for dominance. A thought occurred to her and she slipped off the bed hastily, giving it a backward glance of disgust. Wil stood there naked, that range of emotions playing across her. It seemed as though anger won out, as a scowl leapt across her face and her fist shot out to deliver a sharp blow to the empty air. But it was quickly replaced by a nervous, haunted look.

"Fuck it!" It was less of an exclamation and more of a whine.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Wil made her way over to the wardrobe and pulled the door open. She regarded the contents for a moment.

"Bastard," she muttered.

*****

Fletch was standing in the hallway as Azrael left the bedroom. Azrael put his finger to his lips, demanding silence, and motioned them down the hallway. Once a discreet distance had been obtained, Fletch spoke.

"And how was M'Lady?"

"Surprisingly well actually, Fletch, my faithful servant." Fletch inclined his head slightly at both the news and the compliment. He was immaculately attired in a traditional butlers uniform of black suit and white shirt. A black bow tie completed the ensemble.

"Wonderful, M'lord," he rejoiced in his restrained English accent.

"I thought so. By the way, you look perfect, this place looks perfect, and that accent is spot on."

Once again Fletch inclined his head at the compliment.

"But one thing." Azrael stepped forward as he continued.

"Yes, M'lord?" replied Fletch, stiffening subtlety as his master placed a hand on the servant's neck, cupping the back of Fletch's head.

"Young ladies in the 18th century," Azrael drove Fletch's head into the stone wall with a combination of casualness and power, "do not typically have drinks cabinets in their rooms."

Fletch staggered back, shaking his head to clear it. "No, M'Lord." He paused to press his slicked back hair into place and clear his head. "You did mention something about brandy, I seem to recall. I thought there would be other spirits on offer too."

"I brought the drink with me, fool. I needed it to...facilitate my plans."

"Ahhh. I am sorry for the misunderstanding, M'Lord." There was no significant change in Fletch's tone or demeanor from the time he had first spoken. "You said Miss Murray was well?" he said, skillfully changing the subject.

"Ah-huh. I was expecting an enraged outburst pretty quickly, but she was surprisingly calm-for most of the time. That has to be a good sign. Or a very bad one."

"Undoubtedly, M'Lord."

Azrael shot him a look.

"Undoubtedly it is a good sign, M'Lord," Fletch recovered hastily.

"Undoubtedly. Now, you may bring Wilhelmina then the other one to the dining room."

"As you wish, M'Lord." Fletch paused for a moment before broaching the next subject. "There is still the other matter to attend to."

"The other matter?" Azrael was staring off into the middle distance, obviously lost in some private vision or fantasy.

"Yes, M'Lord, the question of the...external situation. I'm afraid in your absence events have moved onward somewhat. Beyond the prospect of diplomatic reconciliation I fear."

"Oh, that? Do not bother me with such trifles-there are far greater things to attend to now. Far greater things." He gazed dreamily for a moment more, before abruptly returning his attention to Fletch. "Well? Why do you stand there? Be about your business, man!"

Azrael cuffed Fletch around the ear, spun on his heels and marched off.

Fletch's eyes burned a hole in Azrael's back until his master had disappeared around a corner. The manservant brushed his hair slowly and carefully back into place.

"Yes, M'Lord."

*****

Elizabeth almost had to run to keep up with the long-strides of her escort. She looked up at his broad shoulders as she attempted to maintain a gait that verged on a trot, while simultaneously trying to retain her dignity. The sound of their footsteps was absorbed by the thick red carpet running down the center of the passageway, over the wooden floorboards. The wooden walls were intermittently hung with paintings showing groups of odd people posed in front of a fireplace. It always seemed to be the same fireplace bit Elizabeth had no time to stop and inspect them, rushing as she was to keep up with the servant.

"I say! I say-do we have to move quite so fast?"

"We are almost there, Miss Chalmers." He replied without turning his head to look back at her, or slow his gait.

Elizabeth found his manner somewhat confusing. When he had first called upon her in her room she had, been surprised that her visitor was a stranger and not Azrael. The strange man had said nothing for several seconds, just stood there and stared at her with an odd expression on his face. Once they'd got over this awkward first phase she'd been favorably impressed with his manner. He'd seemed so dignified and refined in his presentation. The servant had introduced himself simply as Fletch, and informed her that her presence was required at dinner. But then there had been this inexplicable need for haste along the hallway. Her long, full dress-a deep satin blue in color that she was quite pleased with-was simply not designed for such rapid movements.

Abruptly he halted. Caught off guard, Elizabeth had just about tripped as she staggered to a standstill.

"We are here." The announcement was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating the large double door they now stood before. It was paneled and made from some very dark wood that Elizabeth couldn't immediately identify.

"Look here, is there really all this need for haste? It is rather unseemly to practically drag a young lady to her destination-do you know nothing of proper decorum?"

His look was one of astonishment. Elizabeth found it almost hard to believe that the expression was genuine, but it appeared to be so. He recovered himself after a few seconds.

"Of course. Errr...my apologies, Miss Chalmers. I didn't think." A strange look flashed across his features. "You won't mention this to the Master, I trust?" His sudden earnestness also seemed genuine. Elizabeth was on the verge of being baffled by the servant's curious responses. "Why, no, ummm, I don't see that there would be a need for such a course of action. It was clearly a misunderstanding. Let us put it behind us." She hoped that her words had soothed the man and calmed the waters between them. They seemed to anyway.

*****

The dining room was a long, broad space with a high, vaulted ceiling that immediately brought back images of Elizabeth's church. It possessed the same sort of regal emptiness and reserved grandeur that one always felt when entering a house of worship. Three wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling beams. They looked strangely medieval and incongruous. Even more incongruous was the painting of a bowl of fruit on a table that hung above the fireplace (which was complete with roaring fire). The picture seemed oddly innocuous and out of place with the vastness and almost gothic theme of the rest of the room.

There were two people in the dining room. Two pairs of eyes were upon her. The two had stood when Elizabeth entered. They were at the long dining table that occupied the center of the room-one at the middle of the table on the opposite side to her, and the other at the head of the table. The doors behind her had been closed and the three of them were quite alone. The silence was deafening.

Elizabeth made a small "ahem" noise in the back of her throat to cover the nervousness within her, and began to walk toward the pair, her footsteps echoing off of the bare stone floor. As she neared the fireplace she was vaguely aware of the curious lack of warmth emanating from such a large blaze, but was too preoccupied with the other occupants of the room to pay it much attention.

Azrael was the one at the head of the table, and as Elizabeth looked upon him her nerves faded away. The other was female, tall, a bit thin, with short, dark hair-cut in a boyish fashion and parted to the side. Elizabeth had never seen a woman with her hair cut short before, and the incongruousness of the sight captured her attention for a moment. Her awareness was abruptly pulled back to her darling Azrael as he spoke.

"My dear Elizabeth!" He began grandiloquently. "How delightful of you to join us."

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear Azrael," Elizabeth replied with a hint of breathlessness. She suddenly felt almost girlish.

"Quite." He flashed a grin that was lacking in some unknown component that would have made it whole. Elizabeth's smile faded just slightly. Azrael swept his hand across to indicate the silent stranger and Elizabeth's eyes followed the gesture, happy to have the enigma of the stranger's presence resolved and to be distracted from her momentary disquiet.

"Allow me to introduce to you," he paused a moment for effect, "or rather reintroduce you to your dear friend, Wilhelmina Murray."

"Wil," the woman corrected, as if by robotic reflex.

Elizabeth's eyes went round with surprise-she had never heard that voice before but that one word was said in a manner that was hauntingly familiar. She took in the figure before her in more detail. The girl, or woman rather (as to Elizabeth's mind her short, boyish hair gave her a girlish air), was tall-probably the tallest female Elizabeth had ever seen. She must have been six foot tall.

Her attire is...interesting, Elizabeth thought. She was wearing a black leather top, cropped at the waist, revealing most of her flat midriff and hugging the swell of her moderate breasts. A matching pair of tight trousers complemented the top; they appeared to be sown together down the side with a cross-hatching stitch that revealed a long of flesh from hip to ankle. The tall woman moved as Elizabeth began her appraisal, crossing her arms in front of her, causing muscles to move under her lightly tanned skin.

Good Lord, the though leapt into Elizabeth's mind, she's a bloody Amazon!

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Good Lord." She said it out loud now. "Wilhelmina. How...how wonderful that you're safe. Dear Azrael," she glanced in his direction, "said that you were lost in a storm." Elizabeth hesitated a moment before finishing brightly. "I'm ever so glad that you are safe and sound."

"Yeah, I'm ever so glad to be safe and sound too." The way Wil had said that, without a trace of inflection or a smile, and echoing Elizabeth's phrasing, had given the response a mocking tone. Elizabeth was saved from further unsettling analysis by Azrael's interjection.

"Well, isn't this just grand?" he boomed, that broad, perfect grin of his upon his face. "Three friends together again." He clasped his hands together in front of him and wrung them while he looked dreamy for a moment. "A happy ending-just like in the stories." His expression was one of almost child-like happiness.

A wave of disgust rolled over Wil's features and she glanced at some corner of the room. "Oh right, and we know what kinda stories you like."

Azrael stared at her, his expression abruptly serious. "It's a quality drama. An examination of the human condition in a light and accessible format."

Wil shot him a dark look, her face equally serious, and snarled back at him through gritted teeth. "Friends," she said the word with a mocking disgust "is a lobotomy in a box!" Her voice had risen to as close to a shout as one can get while gritting one's teeth.

The two stared at each other, eyes blazing, before Azrael snapped his attention to Elizabeth. He smiled warmly at the baffled blonde. Wil turned to look at her to, the sullen air returning. Elizabeth looked rapidly between them a few times as she attempted to fathom what that last exchange had meant.

"Uhhh," she began, "perhaps we should all sit down?"

"But of course!" Azrael seemed almost thrilled by the idea. "I almost forgot my manners. Please, ladies-be seated."

All three of them did so. Azrael plopped down happily into his ornate, high-back chair. Likewise, Elizabeth positioned herself upon hers in a delicate and lady-like manner. Wil slumped down uncaringly, arms across her chest.

Elizabeth couldn't help but note disapprovingly that Wil didn't seem to care much for her posture. Instead the tall woman slid down in her chair till her head was about the same height as Elizabeth's. Wil initially stared at some spot in the middle of the table, then lifted her gaze to look Elizabeth in the eye. A flicker of something that might be called a smile appeared at the corner of Wil's mouth and disappeared as rapidly as it had arrived.

Elizabeth turned her head to look at Azrael, who hadn't said anything more since he had invited them to sit. He was, she discovered, staring at Wil with that dreamy expression as his face.

There was a curious period where each looked at the other, with Azrael staring intently at Wil, Wil staring blankly at Elizabeth and Elizabeth staring quizzically at Azrael.

It became too much. "You have a very fine residence here, Azrael." And when he did not immediately react. "Azrael!" I just remarked that you have a fine residence here!"

"Huh?! What? Oh, yes. Why thank you, my dear. I hope it is too your liking." He looked at Elizabeth when he spoke, but then returned his attention to Wil as soon as he had finished.

"Why yes, it is indeed. It is indeed. It is rather grand. Where is it situated, exactly?"

"Oh, there and thereabouts." He did not even glance at her this time.

"I see." Elizabeth flicked a glance at Wil, who was looking at some spot on the all behind her, before focusing on Azrael again. She felt a flush begin to rise within her. Azrael's expression as he looked at Wil was beginning to cause some discomfort as she realized what it was. As best she was able, Elizabeth held her emotions in check.

"I would like to notify my Ma'ma and Pa'pa that I am safe and well."

"I will put my man on to it at once." He flicked a glance at her and gave a slight smile.

"Thank you, my dear Azrael." The appellation suddenly had a hollow ring to it. "How soon will it be before we can return home?"

"It is impossible to say. We must be quite sure that it is safe for you to return." He looked at Elizabeth for a longer time, but his smile was one of condescension, as though Elizabeth was nothing more than a distraction that must be tolerated. "Until that time I hope you will enjoy my hospitality and that we can find some way of...entertaining you. Won't we, Wil?"

Wil glanced at him briefly but said nothing, returning to her blank gaze. Her eyes turned to Elizabeth and for a moment she looked as though she were about to say something, but she did not and looked away again. Elizabeth's voice was tinged with the emotion that welled up within her. This was all going wrong, horribly wrong. Far from being the romantic reunion with her beloved Azrael that she had envisaged, Azrael was instead behaving very oddly and seemed to have eyes only for Wilhelmina. She was beginning to understand that it was Wil that Azrael was interested in, not her. And probably had been all along.

"I see. I'm sure you're hospitality will be most agreeable, Azrael. But at this time I am feeling a little bit tired and would like to withdraw to my room. If that is acceptable to you two?"

"No dinner, dear Elizabeth?"

"No thank you. I'm not feeling particularly hungry."

"Well in that case then, by all means." Azrael rose from his chair graciously. "I hope you will be feeling better later. We wouldn't want you to miss the entertainments, would we?"

"Of course not, Azrael." Elizabeth rose, bowed her head slightly and moved away from the table. "Goodnight, Wilhelmina," she said, somewhat stiffly.

Wil just peered out at her from those slightly sunken eye-sockets, still slumped in the chair, arms crossed. She presented a picture of disinterest. Elizabeth turned and strode to the door. She was reaching for the latch when Wil spoke.

"Elizabeth."

"Yes, Wilhelmina?" Elizabeth turned to reply, and saw Wil looking at her, and Azrael staring at Wil. Wil's mouth moved twice, but on sound came out. The she found her voice.

"Just...just be careful, OK? I'll talk to you later. To make sure you're OK."

Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself, free of her growing feelings of betrayal and for just a moment.

"Thank you, Wilhelmina. And I would very much like to talk to you later. We have much to tell each other I suspect." And with one final glance an Azrael, who did not even look at her, Elizabeth left the dining room with as much dignity as she could muster.

*****

Fletch was waiting out in the hallway for her, and did not seem at all surprised by Elizabeth's arrival. He merely nodded to her and with a "this way, M'Lady", indicated the direction of her room. Elizabeth nodded mutely in return, the tightness at her throat making her unwilling to risk speech, and proceeded down the corridor. Fletch settled in at her side, keeping pace with her this time.

Elizabeth barely registered the journey back to her room. She walked mechanically, not even really thinking about anything-her mind was strangely numb. The unexpected arrival at her door was a mild surprise. Fletch opened the door and now indicated for her to enter, which she dutifully did. After politely inquiring whether there was anything more he could do for her, and learning that there was nothing, Fletch drew her attention to the existence of the servant's bell and withdrew, leaving her alone.

Elizabeth sat there in silence for some minutes, perched on her bed and staring at her toes. Then the tears came.

Chapter 10

"You bastard," Wil snarled at Azrael as soon as Elizabeth had closed the dining room door. "You did that on fuckin' purpose - you just broke her fuckin' little heart."

"Yeah," Azrael replied thoughtfully, "and it was disappointingly easy." He smiled at her broadly. "It is so sweet how you care though. I didn't know you had it in you."

"You must be shitting me. The stupid little girl means nothing to me." Wil sat up, put her hands on the table and leant slightly in Azrael's direction. "Let her go - she has nothing to do with this."

"Pathetic, Murray. I can see straight through you. I saw the way you looked at her - you wanted to see that she's all safe and sound. Being stuck inside that flesh sack with her has left all silly." It was Azrael's turn to lean forward toward Wil. "And I may be the one who broke her 'fuckin' little heart', but you're going to be the one that rips out her fuckin' little soul."

Wil stared aggressively at Azrael, a half-snarl upon her lips. It seemed to be some time before she replied. "You're fucked in the head." She shook her head slightly as she said it.

Azrael laughed warmly at her, as one might laugh at an old friend's gentle humor. The sound was cut off abruptly. "No, Wilhelmina, that's you." He tilted his head to one side slightly. "I thought we'd been through all this? I thought we'd clarified what you are?"

Wil stared at him, her face slowly beginning to twist into a dark mask of emotions. Then she relaxed, returning to her former sullen self, as though this was an argument she did not consider worth having, and looked away. "Wil," she corrected. "You know I hate that stupid name."

"True. I do know that. In fact, I'd never heard anyone call you that without you correcting them. Until dear Elizabeth did it just then." He rose from his seat; the heavy wooden chair emitted a scraping sound as it moved backwards. Azrael moved toward the seated figure. "Isn't that a coincidence?"

"Don't come near me."

Azrael continued to approach, until he was only a few feet away. "Why's that?" he said, softly, gently. "Are you afraid you won't be able to control yourself?"

Wil leapt to her feet, the chair toppling backwards with a crash. She began to back up as his large frame continued to advance. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"Oh dear, Wil. You are frightened aren't you?" He smiled wolfishly.

"Bullshit." Wil gave a startled gasp as her back met the dining room wall unexpectedly. And then Azrael was upon her.

He pressed himself along the length of her body, crushing her against the wall with his weight. His hands found her wrists and pinned her arms down by her sides. Azrael breathed her in, sniffing delicately as one might with a flower; he sampled her scent from her shoulder, up her neck, to her ear. Wil tried to twist away from his attentions unsuccessfully. Defeated, she went still, resignedly submitting to the indignity.

"Oh my beautiful girl. How I have longed for this moment - when we are together like this. And you are home. Where you belong."

"I am not beautiful. This is not my home. You are fucked."

"Yes you are. Yes it is."

"No! You're trying to mess with me again." Wil looked at him, breathing heavily through her nose and struggling ineffectually against his weight once more, like a fly would in a spider's web. "You fucked with my mind! You made me do...think..." she struggled to express herself for a moment, "things that weren't me."

"Oh no, beloved Wil. You're all confused again. Like you were when I found you. And I thought we had spent all that time clarifying your thoughts, helping you to find who you really are. And now you say these things about me? It's hurtful, baby, truly hurtful."

"Shit! You're full of shit! You messed with me then, but it won't work again - I've got my eyes wide open this time. I'm not going to let you do that to me again."

"Silly, Willy!" Azrael laughed playfully, releasing her wrists and beginning to stroke her short, dark hair. "How could I have tricked you into being what you already are? The truth is, and you know this is the truth, that you and I together just stripped away the layers of pain and self-doubt that you wrapped around your beautiful soul. And revealed what lay underneath. Together we made you powerful. And holy. And special." He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "We made you something to be feared. We made you into a god."

"No." Wil's reply was equally soft-spoken, almost plaintive, and she swallowed heavily afterward. Azrael moved back, no longer pressed against her but still very close, and looked upon Wil's face with an almost reverential expression. "I love you, Wil. I'm the only person who ever had. Remember that."

"No you don't" "Shush, my love," Azrael said gently as he continued to stroke her hair. A half-smile crept upon Wil's mouth, and her hands rose uncertainly up his sides to rest upon his shoulders.

"Can it be true, Azrael?"

"Of course, my..."

Wil's hands moved with lightning speed, her fingers stabbing toward Azrael's eyes, a twisted snarl instantly disfiguring her pretty features. Azrael moved even faster. His hands snapped to Wil's wrists with a crushing strength, stopping the attack inches from its target. He squeezed. Wil gasped, her eyes immediately beginning to water from the pain. Her jaw clenched as she refused to cry out.

"You are pathetically predictable, Murray." Azrael began, his tone hard. "Do you really think I am going to fall for your old tricks? I who know you intimately? I who have explored every fiber of your being?" A squeak escaped Wil and she fought to resist the pain. But another cry came as she felt a bone crack in her forearm. "F...f...f...fuck you." She half cried it, half spat it out. Her knees began to buckle. Azrael released his grip and Wil screamed as the blood flowed back into the constricted flesh. He held her around the throat - preventing her from falling.

"You will come to understand my love for you once more. You will rediscover your love for me in return. After all, I have an eternity to remind you."

"I...I never loved you. You were a good lay and that's it. And now I hate you, you piece of shit." Wil punctuated the rebuff by spitting in Azrael's face.

Azrael squeezed her throat and watched as she struggled - her fingers clawing weakly at his grip. He watched her impassively, the spittle running slowly down his face, as Wil began to turn first red, then traces of purple appeared in her cheeks as her eyes bulged. Now he began to lift her body up as Wil's vision began to gray around the edges from the oxygen starvation.

"It seems that we must also re-instill a sense of respect for your Master." Azrael gripped her at her waist and hoisted Wil's long body above his head with an unnatural effortlessness. She was powerless to resist his preternatural strength as he carried her across to the dining room table and slammed her down upon it with all his strength.

The table was an inch and a half of solid oak, and it cracked clean in half under the impact of Wil's body. She lay there on the floor amidst the shattered wood; inside her skull an intense white light of agony blazed that only slowly faded, and allowed the pain from her crushed, broken back and ribs to seep into her mind.

Azrael looked down upon her as she lay there, her limbs twitching slightly - whether the movement was from conscious desire or reflex action was unclear. He twisted his head from side to side as he watched her feeble movements, as though seeking to examine her suffering from every perspective. His expression was a mixture of impassiveness and curiosity - contrasting with Wil's sightless look of stunned disbelief and pain. Azrael knelt down beside his victim and scooped up her hand, kneading it gently with a concerned expression.

"Wil? Look at me, Wil."

Wil did not respond, instead continuing to stare upward, breathing laboriously. It appeared she was going into shock.

"Wil? Did you know your back is broken, Wil? I'm sorry about that, but you were being very naughty." Azrael paused as he ran his hand down her forearm. The limb seemed so tiny in his large hands. "Look at me, Wil. It's important you do." Wil's head lolled drunkenly as she turned her eyes to him.

"A...Az...Az..." she gasped, then paused to take a pained swallow. "W...why?"

Azrael smiled beneficently, as one would do to a favored child. "You will call me Master."

Wil's eyebrows rose just a fraction as her shock-numbed brain struggled to comprehend what he was saying, and in response Azrael broke her forearm with a casual pressure.

Wil's eyes went wide with horror - staring fixedly at the sharp piece of bloodied forearm bone that protruded from the ripped flesh in front of her. Blood pumped from the gaping wound and over her torso as her mouth moved to form a scream - but no sound would come.

"Ooops. Clumsy me." Azrael dropped the mangled piece of bone and flesh onto her chest and reached for the other arm. "Now, let's try again, shall we? How do you address me?"

Wil found her voice. A long ululating scream began to fill the great emptiness of the dining room.

*****

Elizabeth sat up on her bed and tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. The stream of liquid grief only slowed reluctantly, but she was tired of crying and determined to stop. She had been lying there sobbing for an age and it was enough. But the thought of that rotten, duplicitous swine Azrael and how he had.... The tears began again as she sat on her broad bed, hands over her face, and wept anew.

What a fool I am, she berated herself! She'd really believed Azrael had feelings for her, that he was the one. She had been waiting so long for a handsome stranger to come and sweep her off her feet, and then it had seemed her dream had come true, and...and...he'd turned out to be a right rotter! The wine had been after Wilhelmina the entire time. Why, oh why had she been born such a stupid girl?! Surely she should have seen that? It seemed so obvious now. Come to think of it, Wil had tried to dissuade her of the honor of the swine's attentions, but she had been so wrapped up in her childish little romantic notions she hadn't....

"Oh, bugger it all!"

With an effort Elizabeth quenched the flow of tears and sat there, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, hands in her lap and looked forlorn. The two of them probably were off somewhere now, having the most frightfully good time, and laughing at her, at how simple and easily deceived she was - just a silly child from the colonies who knows nothing about life.

Elizabeth felt numb, she felt empty. Her grief and sorrow had hollowed her out and she waited for something to fill her again - to make her feel human and alive once more. Rather than this hollow shell.

She must look appalling. That thought was enough to move her to action; she slid off of the bed and moved to her dresser while sniffing prodigiously. The news was bad indeed. The mirror revealed her red-rimmed and puffy eyes with a merciless clarity. And her hair was a mess. Oh to have it all short and boyish like Wilhelmina's.

That thought lead to thoughts about Wil. She did cut a fascinating figure - she looked exactly as she might for such a strong, take-charge personality. No wonder Azrael was so enchanted by her. Elizabeth felt a stab of jealousy. Then she remembered how subdued Wil had been - she hadn't exactly returned Azrael's amorous attentions, that was for sure. Perhaps Wil had been just too polite to carry on with her lover while Elizabeth was there? Could be, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought that something wasn't quite right there.

Elizabeth busied herself with her hair and makeup, now that her emotions were coming under control. She thought about Azrael and how he had acted since she had met him. He was a scoundrel, she decided, and she would make sure to pop in on Father O'Connel when she got back - just to make sure he was getting better.

With that thought she was immediately homesick. Strong, redolent sensations and memories flowed over her as she remembered her dear Ma'ma and Pa'pa, her warm house - and her real room, she thought as she cast an eye over the simulacrum she was in now. And of course there was dear Fluff, who would be stalking about at this time, angling to be petted then fed. And then petted, then fed.

Elizabeth felt saddened by the memories now, aware of her isolation and the artificial nature of her setting. She was consumed by this awareness and these thoughts for a time. Then a resolution came to her. If Azrael did not want her then she would leave as soon as practicable. It was the only way to retain her dignity and give Azrael and Wil the privacy they so obviously sought. Having made this resolution, Elizabeth commenced to act. She finished attending to her appearance, rose and gathered her dress about her, and made her way out of the room and down the corridor. A rumbling vibration ran through the floor as she stood wondering which way to go. Elizabeth paid it no attention as she made her decision and set off.

*****

Fletch stood respectfully as he delivered his report to Azrael. They stood in the corridor, not too far from the double doors leading into the dining room. Azrael was a mixture of attention to Fletch's words and frequent distraction as he repeatedly glanced down the corridor leading to the right. It was as though there was somewhere he really wanted to be. And indeed there was.

Fletch resumed his report after halting to pay attention to a rumbling vibration that had been easily detectable under their feet. He looked at Azrael, who shrugged dismissively, before continuing from where he had stopped. "...and Morlock's force is holding the Perathine gates with ease, and thus is in need of no reinforcement. Vlachok reports pressure from the enemy is building, with probing attacks building in intensity. However, it is impossible to discern at this stage if these are the prelude to a major offensive, or merely diversionary demonstrations. Reinforcing his position at this stage may be unwise."

"Oh, right." Azrael looked down the corridor again, appearing deep in thought. Then he looked back at Fletch. "Huh? What? Oh - that's true. They could be faking it. Yeah. Sure, no reinforcements for Vlachok. He can handle himself - if he really needed help he'd ask for it, right?"

Fletch inclined his head in agreement.

"That's what I thought," Azrael continued. "And Xerxthos? How is her command?" He immediately looked down the corridor again.

"The forces of the mighty Xerxthos are rested and reequipped after their recent glorious victory over the enemy. She is ready to be committed whenever you desire, Master. Fletch hesitated a moment. "Might I enquire as to the state of the Instrument?"

Azrael glanced at him only briefly. "She is coming along nicely - after the initial disappointment of her confused mental state. How was I to know being stuck in the body of that pathetic child would affect her so? Remind me to think of some particularly unpleasant torture for the blonde later on, Fletch."

"Of course, M'Lord."

"Anyway, I had to deliver some..." Azrael looked at Fletch and smiled slowly, "shock treatment. To snap her back to reality, as it were. I had to make it clear to the Instrument where she was, and who is in charge here. It was for her own good, you understand. Naturally I did not enjoy it in the least - unpleasant but necessary."

"Of course, M'Lord."

"Now is it just a matter of time before the Instrument is ready, and willing, and mine. With the defenses holding as well as you describe we have plenty of time for that. Why we can..."

"Azrael! Oh, Azrael!" He was interrupted by the high-pitched cry from the end of the corridor. The pair of them turned to see Elizabeth closing on them, having just rounded the corner. She approached at a fast walk, her long dress gathered in her small hands to expedite her progress.

Azrael smiled a broad grin at the petite blonde. "By all the Lords of Hades!" he muttered furiously out of the corner of his mouth at Fletch. "It is the infuriating child! I can't talk to her - or torture her - right now. Next time I am near her I need to have a red-hot poker in my hand. You take her - give her whatever she wants. I have to be there when the Instrument wakes up." He began to back up.

"Of course, M'Lord. Whatever she wants?"

"Yes, just occupy her for a time," he hissed, then louder to Elizabeth, "Elizabeth darling! So lovely to see you! Sorry but you've caught me at a bad time - I really must dash." He was backpedaling as she approached, keeping the distance between then constant. "In the meantime Fletch will take care of you, Darling. Love you! See you soon!" With that he turned and half-ran, half-walked away - soon disappearing around the corner.

"Azrael! Azrael!! Where are you...?" Elizabeth progress was brought to an abrupt halt as the broad frame of Fletch stepped into the middle of the passageway.

"Miss Chalmers. Delighted to see you. How may I be of assistance?"

*****

Elizabeth's surprise when she had rounded the corner and spied Azrael in conversation with his manservant has caused her to cry out in spite of herself. The sudden rush of pleasure that overcame her system gave lie to her earlier anger with Azrael. Perhaps she had been mistaken, perhaps he was worth forgiving for his earlier intemperate behavior - perhaps she had been too hasty with her earlier judgment? With this resolution for clemency decided upon, Elizabeth increased her gait - eager to seek confirmation of her revised opinions of Azrael.

How quickly those hopes were dashed. He was clearly avoiding her; fobbing her off onto the servant as he retreated with some alacrity.

"Azrael! Azrael!! Where are you...?" Her voice died as his immaculately dressed form disappeared from sight. "How could you...?" Elizabeth said in a quiet and disconsolate voice, almost grateful as Fletch's chest blocked her view of the painfully empty corridor behind him.

"Miss Chalmers. Delighted to see you. How may I be of assistance?" Her eyes traveled up that chest to the polite but blank expression on the man's face. The perfect expression for a servant, she thought.

"Why did Azrael leave like that?" she demanded with uncharacteristic bluntness.

"Regrettably, the Master has pressing business to attend to at this time. Doubtless he will attempt to accommodate you when he is not indisposed. In the meantime, I have been instructed to give you whatever you want. How may I be of assistance, M'Lady?"

There was something about his manner in those last two sentences that gave Elizabeth pause for a moment. There was something about this fellow that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He seemed such the perfect servant - polite, respectful and entirely proper. Not to mention rather handsome. But then he would go and do something odd or unsettling out of the blue.

Elizabeth blinked the thoughts away and smiled politely. Perhaps he was just a fraction daft in the head. Best to be gentle with him, she thought.

"My dear fellow," she began, trying to keep her emotions cool as thoughts of Azrael and his behavior returned, "I was intending to enquire of your master when would be a convenient time to return me to my home. I really don't care for this place. I don't care for it one bit. I want to go home." She hoped that hadn't sounded quite so pleading as she suspected it did.

Something flickered about Fletch's face and was gone almost as quickly. His eyes went down and up her body, pausing briefly about her chest before continuing on, as though he were appraising her.

"Unfortunately, it is impossible to speculate when the Master will be finished with you. And it is beyond my power to influence him in that regard. If you wish to escape, you will have to do it yourself."

Elizabeth's mouth was half-open now as she stared at him. He had gone from the occasionally odd, to the downright unsettling. First he had looked at her...assets, as it were, with no attempt to conceal the fact, and then he had used the word "escape" in a sentence.

"Oh. Oh, I see. And why, perchance, would I need to 'escape' this place, as opposed to leave?"

He looked at her, still blank, reserved and politely in his perfect servant manner. "Do you really want to know the answer to that question? Is that what you want?"

Elizabeth nodded, mute for a moment, a feeling of foreboding within her. Fletch leaned slightly closer and tilted his head to one side as he regarded her. "Because my Master will never let you out of here alive. You are destined to spend the rest of your existence here - suffering a myriad of agonies the likes of which you cannot begin to comprehend." Aside from his change of posture, Fletch delivered the news with the same neutral expression that he invariably possessed.

"Oh." Elizabeth stared at him blankly, utterly unable to form an effective response. Instead she pursed her lips and said "Oh" once more. She was really starting to hope she would wake from this dream soon. Because it had to be a dream. Fletch had returned to his former position, and was regarding her impassively.

"Are you mad?" It was all that Elizabeth could bring herself to say, and it wasn't profound or insightful.

"No."

Of course he would deny it. It seemed her next action preceded conscious thought, because it happened so quickly and was a much a surprise to her as it to him. Elizabeth grasped Fletch by the elbow and maneuvered him toward the doors to the dining room with a "follow me". He moved easily under her guiding pressure in spite of the relative differences in their bulk, a look of surprise crossing his face for several seconds before he regained control.

They were in the dining room in a moment - it was exactly as when she had left it earlier. Elizabeth rounded upon the large man and looked up at him with a determined set to her jaw.

"Now, errr, Fletch, isn't?"

He thought for a moment before replying. "Yes."

She ignored that strange delay and ploughed on. "What the devil do you mean by all that 'trapped in here forever' nonsense?! It is in very poor form for a servant to amuse himself with a guest like that. I could get you discharged from your duties for such conduct. What is there to stop me from walking out the door of this mansion right now, hailing a cab and returning to my home forthwith? Well, speak up, man!"

Fletched looked confused. "You are marked. You are his."

Elizabeth stopped. "I am sorry?"

The manservant bore the air of one who was attempting to explain the self-evident to an ignoramus and cannot believe they are unable to see things for themselves.

"You have accepted the brand of the Master. Surely you remember accepting the collar?"

Now Elizabeth went inexplicably cold. How had he known? "Uhhh, I remember something about a collar. I thought it was somewhat plain in appearance, but I understood that Azrael was not a rich man. In spite of this failing however, I still hold him in the highest regard. But I don't know what became of it; I seem to have lost it somewhere. Frightfully embarrassing really. I wonder if that is the reason he's been acting so.... Ooooh!"

Elizabeth had given a startled cry as, while she had been talking, her hands had unconsciously gone to her neck to where the collar had been - and felt the think leather band under her fingers.

"Oh, good Lord! I can feel it!! But it wasn't there before!"

"Hmmm, our Master has been a tad remiss in not explaining these things to you. It's traditional to sign a contract so that both parties are clear on their obligations."

"Obligations?"

"Yes, obligations. That which is owed in exchange for the soul."

"For the soul?"

"Yes, for the soul. That which you received in exchange for your soul."

"For my soul!"

There was a slight pause as Fletch took a calming breath. "Yes, for your soul. Such as illimitable riches."

"Illimitable riches?"

"Yes, illimitable riches. That means a lot of money."

"I know what it means! I didn't get any riches."

"I see. What did you get in exchange for your soul? I if I may be so bold as to enquire." Elizabeth turned her back to him and walked away a pace, still fiddling with the collar she could plainly feel about her neck; the collar that hadn't been there before. Her brow was a furrowed mass of confused lines.

"What did I get?"

Fletch's reserves of self-control were wearing thin, and he was in danger of sighing in exasperation. It seemed that brains and beauty did not go together.

"Yes," he said calmly, proud of his professional detachment and discipline. "What did our Master gift you in exchange for your soul?"

"Aaah, well..." Elizabeth couldn't believe she was about to say this, "I seem to remember we shared a romantic liaison at the time. For one night." Her voice went up in pitch as her throat tightened with shame. "It was very special."

There was a loud snort of surprised derision from behind her and Elizabeth rounded on Fletch, eyes blazing.

"I would ask you to remain civil, sir!" she shouted, glad of something to distract her from her embarrassment.

Fletch instantly snapped back to his impassive expression. "I'm sorry, M'lady. I was just clearing my throat."

"Oh, you rotten liar!" Elizabeth spun back away from him and clamped her arms firmly across her chest.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, M'Lady. It has happened before. Others have exchanged their souls for love." He paused for a moment. "I've just never met anyone who sold their one, immortal soul for a one-night stand!" Fletch descended into peals of laughter, unable to control himself any longer.

"Oh you swine! Everyone in this house is a swine! How dare you mock me in this way?!" Elizabeth stomped to the door as she ranted. "I will report you to Azrael, and I expect he will give you a jolly good thrashing and dismiss you from his employ for your insolence and insanity!" She wrenched the doors open and shot back at the man. "And I assure you, sir, you are quite mad!"

Fletch spoke as she was about to leave, his laughter stopping abruptly. "If you do not believe me, M'Lady, I suggest you look first in your mirror, then try taking a nice deep breath of fresh air out of your bedroom window."

"Thank you for your 'advice', sir, and goodbye. I very much doubt that we will speak again.

And with that she departed, leaving Fletch alone and looking thoughtful.

Chapter 11

Azrael's gazed upon Wil's sleeping form. Wil was lying on her stomach, her hands clutching at a pillow she had half-dragged under her. He was hypnotized for a time by the serene expression on her face, and he smiled softly at her peacefulness. His eyes roamed across her body now. Delicately he dragged down the silk sheet that covered her, until he had exposed the length of her lithe frame, exposing her back down to the crack of her buttock. Azrael lay next to her on her bed; both of them were naked. She clutched at her pillow as a child would a teddy bear. It was how she always slept, Azrael reflected. Always snuggling her pillow to her - never anything alive, just a pillow. His hand began to lightly caress her shoulder and upper back. She stirred under the touch, sleeping still, and swallowed a couple of times before settling back into slumber.

"Time to wake soon, my dear," Azrael whispered. In his experience Wil had never been a morning person. She was barely recognizable in fact, until she had imbibed this magic beverage called coffee. He had actually thought it was a genuinely magical elixir when he had first seen it's transformative powers. But eventually he had accepted that it was a mundane, earthly thing.

Azrael's hand ran down her shoulder blade, over her back and disappeared under the silk sheet as he began to softly massage her ass. Wil murmured out loud under the pressure, and snuggled the pillow closer to her, pressing the soft bundle against her face and chest. She was drifting closer to consciousness - Azrael could see the change in her aura.

Azrael sometimes spent hours laying watching her sleep. He didn't actually need to sleep himself; sometimes he did, just for the sensation. But he loved to watch her aura, her soul - peaceful and still. So much potential, and he was so close to possessing it.

And then she was awake. Wil's eyelids cracked open and she squinted against the light while squeezing every muscle in her body tight to stretch herself. She had a little smile on her face as she gave a satisfied, early morning moan.

Give it a second, Azrael thought, and tried to present his most kindly, reassuring face for her.

Wil looked up at him, blinking still, and was blank for a moment. Her eyes went wide as awareness and memory came flooding back. She gave a startled yelp. Wil sat up sharply, oblivious to her nudity, and stared down at her forearms. They were unremarkable in nature, but she stared round-eyed at them as she held them out for her inspection. Then she looked up at Azrael, disbelief written all over her face. Unexpectedly, Wil gave another cry and, scrambling to pull the sheets away, exposed her long, tanned legs - running her hands over them as though looking for something. Finding no imperfection she looked up, staring at him, intense and haunted.

"You bastard!"

Azrael smiled warmly and looked mildly quizzical as Wil scrambled off the bed. The slim woman landed gracefully on her feet, and backed away till she bumped into the wall.

"You bastard," she repeated.

This reaction, Azrael thought, was worth the price of admission alone. He sat up, propping himself on one hand. "Wil, darling - what is the problem?" Now he looked bewildered.

"How could you fuckin' do that to me?! How could you?!" she snarled, mixing betrayal, hurt and anger in her voice. "How the fuck could you?"

"I'm...I'm sorry, Wil," Azrael said, the picture of innocence. "But I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. I remember we had dinner, you drank quite a lot, and then you had to have a lie down."

"I don't drink." The reply was almost a non sequitur, as though she was trying to fill up time while her mind caught up with events.

He smiled knowingly. "Of course you do, babe, and when you do, well you know how you get all silly."

She scowled at him, but didn't reply; instead she was examining her forearms while calming her breathing.

"Did you have a bad dream, my love?"

Wil just stared at her forearms, then slowly slid down the wall, till she was sitting with her back against it and her knees under her chin.

"A dream? You're tryin' to tell me that was a fuckin' dream?"

"What was a dream?"

"That thing where you beat the livin' shit outa me, you sadistic fuck!"

"Hmmm, me, assault you? Well, as you are obviously unharmed we're just going to have to assume it was a dream."

Wil just glared at him. The muscles in her jaw twitched as she bit down in an attempt to control her emotions. She wrapped her arms around her legs and squeezed the tightly closed as she regarded Azrael, saying nothing.

"Did you know that dreams are often trying to tell you something?" Azrael went on, his voice thoughtful. "Say, what do you think that dream was trying to tell you, babe?"

In the depths of her dark eyes something seemed to boil, a rolling cloud of nebulous, maleficent emotion swirled. They maintained eye contact for long seconds before the tension eased from Wil and she slumped subtly, almost undetectably.

"I think," she began with a stiff, forced smile, "that the dream was telling me that you're the boss here." "'The boss'? Are we sure that's the word we use?" His voice was still pleasant but contained a hard edge at the same time.

There was another long glaring pause before Wil replied. "I meant, you're the Master."

"Good girl. I don't think that's a dream you should forget in a hurry."

Wil gave me a final angry scowl before looking away. She stared over the tops of her knees at some spot on the ground between them. Azrael glanced casually around the room, as though inspecting the decor, then returned his attention to her.

"What are you thinking about?" he began after what he judged to be a sufficiently long gap in the conversation.

"How do you know that I'm thinkin' about anything?"

"Because that's your thinking position."

Wil's eyes flicked to her knees for a moment. "Not necessarily."

"Don't be a child."

"Fine. Maybe I was jus' tryin' to work out what the fuck is going on here."

"We're home, baby. In my dimension. Which is your dimension too."

"You're dreamin'. No wait, I'm dreamin'. At least I fuckin' better be." Her eyes were on her wrists. "This ain't my body. I can tell."

"No, Wil, it's..."

"Could you shut up for a moment?"

Wil rocked back and forth ever so slightly as she thought, while Azrael watched her patiently, smiling benignly still.

"OK." There was a pause before Wil carried on. "OK. So those bastards bounced us and you did...something to get us outa there, and shot me back to Elizabeth's time. And I got stuck in her body. Was that the plan?"

"Of course."

"Liar."

Well, it was essentially the plan. I didn't realize the original soul would still be in there with you. So it took a little bit longer to find you than I anticipated."

"Didn't realize she'd be in there with me?" Wil echoed. "What - you expected Elizabeth to go somewhere? Where?"

He shrugged and made a face. "Who knows? Who cares?"

"You were going to kill Elizabeth? You bastard!"

"Your newly acquired sense of morality is both heart-warming, and is making me feel slightly ill."

It was Wil's turn to make a face.

"And," Azrael continued, as though this would clear his name, "I had no idea where you'd end up. I had no idea that that short, blonde insect even existed! Though she may prove entertaining yet." He picked an imaginary piece of dust from the silk sheet.

"You harm one hair on her head and I'll...." The threat remained incomplete.

"Yes, my love? You'll do what?" Azrael inquired pleasantly. And when he received no response, "I thought as much. In fact, I have a feeling this little humanistic phase you're going through is not going to last when the time comes for actual action, rather than these impressive words. You always placed great value on self-preservation after all."

Wil stared at him, her face hard, before breaking eye contact and scanning the room - her eyes flitting from one thing to the other. With one final glance at Azrael she stood up, making no effort to conceal her nakedness, and marched across to where she had spied her trousers. Her clothes appeared to have been cast casually about the floor.

"You don't know me," Wil struggled into the tight breeches as she spoke. "You just think you know me."

"Is that right, Psycho?"

Wil froze, her pants half covering her ass as she stood there with glacial stillness. Then she came to life again, pulled the tight leather pants up and began securing them at her front.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"Why I pulled it from your mind while you were sleeping."

She turned and stared at him, apparently unconcerned that she was topless. Azrael took the opportunity to run his eyes over her breasts and flat, muscled torso.

"Mmmm, you're not shy are you, baby?" Azrael murmured approvingly.

"There ain't nothing here you haven't already seen. And answer the fuckin' question - where did you hear that name?"

"I told you - from your memories."

"Bullshit! You heard it somewhere - maybe I mentioned it in passing, maybe you did some snooping behind my back. Yeah, 'cause that's how it works, isn't it? You're fuckin' good at guessing games. You take a little bit of information and then make some bullshit guesses about it, and drop it in the middle of the conversation an' see what happens."

Wil had found her top and was struggling into it. "And," Wil continued on as Azrael opened his mouth to speak, "why do you have to dress me like a whore? This is not how I dress! It's embarrassing - fuck knows what Elizabeth must think of me."

She was lacing up the figure-hugging leather top now. Azrael opened his mouth to speak again, and was immediately cut off again. "I mean, this is the most decent thing I could find in there." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the room's long wardrobe. "Most of the stuff in there is downright unwearable - it's disgusting. I don't dress like this. It aint' me!"

"Maybe, but it is how you'd like to dress. In your fantasies."

Wil shook her head at him. "You don't know me at all," she asserted once more.

"Really, baby? You know what I think?"

"Do I care?"

Azrael continued, ignoring the rebuff. "I think it's you that doesn't know yourself. I thought we proved that a while ago. Remember Carter's daughter? You had some fun there, didn't you?"

"Fuck you! That was you - not me! I barely fuckin' touched her."

Azrael laughed softly. "You are the queen of denial!"

She turned at his laugh, considered for a moment as an irritated flush came to her cheeks, then turned back again.

"Them - the bad guys." Wil changed the subject, as though unwilling to be sucked into an argument. "They can't follow us here?"

"Nope." Immediately after saying that Azrael glanced to one side and thought. "Very probably not."

"Terrific."

"Don't sweat it, my love. I'll protect you."

"Yeah, sure. Like last time, when those two bastards caught up with me and Liz. Thanks for your fuckin' protection."

"I saved you," Azrael sat up as he protested.

"Bullshit, asshole. I saved me!" Wil jerked her thumb at her chest. "I always do. You," her finger stabbed at Azrael, "were gettin' off."

"I sense there's some issue you need to work off here."

"You insensitive piece of shit bastard! You let them torture and rape me! While you watched!!" Wil's voice had risen almost to a shout. Azrael raised his hand in reply.

"No, baby. They cut off the connection before I could get a fix on your exact location. It just took a while to find you is all."

"I don't believe you - the timing of your entry was too perfect. You went in after I had done all the hard work and taken those sacks of shit down!"

"You never complained about the perfection of my timing before, baby." He went on quickly when Wil's scowl deepened. "Well, maybe I caught the last little bit of the show. And maybe I didn't want to interrupt you, as you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Wil just stared at him, her snarl back in full force. "I was not enjoying...that! I was doing what I had to do to survive."

"Why not, babe? Wasn't it as good as when I did that to you? Are you going to tell me that you were doing what you had to do to survive then too?"

"Maybe I was. And then was different - this is about loss of control, and...and a breach of trust. I can't believe you can't see that!"

"Of course I understand that, Honey. And you have to believe me that I did everything I could."

A smile spread across Azrael's face. "Hey, Wil - we're having an argument."

"We're always havin' an argument. That's why our relationship is over."

"Don't say that, babe. And I mean this is out first little argument in your new home. Isn't that sweet?" he said, his voice quiet and soft again. "And it's beginning to turn me on."

Azrael slid off the bed and stood up. His erection jutted in front of him, steadily growing and drawing Wil's eye to it. She had taken a small step back as he had moved, but immediately stopped herself and stood firm as he approached, her hand balled into fists at her sides.

"No, Azrael."

"No what?" He stopped just short of her, his rigid cock almost bridging the gap between them.

"No, I do not want to fuck. I told you it's over."

"I think you do. I know you do."

"No I don't. And you know it don't count unless I say yes."

Azrael smiled knowingly.

"Same old, Wil. Wants the best of both worlds - wants the pleasure without the commitment. Well it's not gonna happen, baby. I won't take you until you beg me to do so. Not until you crawl to me on you hands and knees and beg me to fuck you. Which you will do in the not too distant future."

"Dream on, Pal. Dream the fuck on."

Azrael's smile broadened as Wil's scowl deepened.

"Until that time, how about you do me a favor and...suck my cock?"

Wil's hands went to her hips and she looked away in disgust. She shook her head a couple of times as though debating something with herself.

"Will you leave me alone if I do?" she said, looking back at him suspiciously.

"Of course, my love. Some peace and quiet will give you a chance to think and come to your senses."

The suspicious look remained. There was a pause.

"Fine," she said. "I'll suck the stupid thing."

Wil got down on her knees.

*****

The room's familiarity was taking on a haunting aspect. To be presented with such a perfect facsimile of something that was so intimate, so familiar, yet to be aware of it's artificiality, it was.... Words failed Elizabeth for a moment. It was almost sinister. She stopped the slow circuit of the room, taking in every aspect of her setting, and faced the mirror. The words of the deranged butler flooded through her troubled mind. It was all she could do not to reach up to her neck and seek confirmation of the sensation she had experienced in the dining room - the touch of a thing that could not be there. Elizabeth fought back the growing awareness that something was very wrong here.

The mirror called her. She needed the comforting reflection of her bare neck to drive away these mental phantasms. With a deep breath the small blonde strode to her dresser and sat down in the chair.

And she looked.

And she saw nothing.

Nothing around her neck anyway - which was the first place her eyes had gone in spite of her resolution not to be so silly. Elizabeth looked into her own blue eyes and sighed.

"Oh, what are you doing, my girl? This is madness! Can't you see that?" Elizabeth's reflection told her in sync with her own voice. "This whole situation is so mad, the people here are so mad, you are letting it drive you mad too!" She clasped her bare neck and closed her eyes, the breath issuing from her in a low hiss.

Feeling calmer now,

Elizabeth stood and looked around. A thought came to her and for a time she considered acting upon it. Shrugging, Elizabeth gave in and strode across to the window. She looked out upon the moonlit scene beyond that glass barrier and reflected upon her situation. There were thoughts buzzing in the back of her mind, unpleasant truths that she did not wish to acknowledge; thoughts about the eldritch occurrences of late. There must be a rational explanation for everything that has happened here, there must...

Elizabeth stopped, cut short by an awareness that seized control of her perceptions with an urgent, breathtaking abruptness. It was not right! The scene outside that window was simply not right. At first the stillness of the scene had been calming - now it was eerie. Nothing had moved since she had been looking out there. Not even the clouds.

Perhaps it was just a very calm night? It was with a certain trepidation that Elizabeth fumbled at the catch and opened the window - needing to see out there unimpeded by the distortions of the crude pane of glass.

She leaned out as the frame swung open and took a deep breath. The air was unremarkable. Which was also wrong. The air outside tasted exactly like the same as the air inside, not sharp and cold as one would expect of night air.

A quizzical furrow marred

Elizabeth's brow and her eyebrows were raised in accompaniment to the mannerism. This really was very odd indeed. There was something she had to do now. Something that her mind was telling her was necessary. But she did not want to do it, as Elizabeth desperately wanted to stay in her comfortable world of denial. But she could not hold back the truth any longer. And so she reached her hand out into the night.

There was a dull "thunk" as her fingers met a solid object. Elizabeth gave a startled cry and snatched her hand back.

"Good gollyfuck! It's a painting!" she gasped in confirmation of her fears.

She ran her hand over that smooth, silken surface - a couple of feet outside the house. It was unbearably lifelike. Whomever had painted this must have been a master; possessing skills far beyond that of a Michelangelo or Da Vinci. She continued to gaze open-mouthed at the life-like perfection of the painting, the verisimilitude of the work clashing with its unnatural stillness.

Elizabeth wrenched herself away from the perfect horror of her bedroom window vista and staggered to the dresser again. She collapsed into the chair and stared into the mirror, her heart filled with dread. For long seconds there was nothing remarkable in her reflection, save for her wide-eyed, paler-than-usual visage. Then, under her intense gaze, a sparkling shower of orange dots began around her neck. Elizabeth gasped and resisted the impulse to touch the occurrence. The sparkling increased in intensity until the effulgent dots merged into one another to form a band encasing the smooth skin at Elizabeth's neck. Gradually the preternatural luminescence died away to leave a horrifyingly familiar vision - of an otherwise unremarkable, unadorned leather collar. Now her hands crept to her throat to feel the solidity of the vision under her fingers. It was real. It was a nightmare made real.

"Oh no!"

*****

It was her door again. Wil stood in the corridor and stared hard at the scratches she had made on her bedroom door. This was the fourth time this scene had repeated itself - Wil staring perplexedly at those marks, wondering how on earth she had managed to walk in a circle. The problem was, she reflected bitterly, that she was not on earth.

"Fuck it!"

The hissed curse echoed down the long corridor. She would never find Elizabeth's room at this rate. Wil had snuck out of her room 10 minutes after Azrael had left. But somehow she managed to find the dining room every attempt and then further exploration always lead back to here. Somehow. A grimace of angry frustration swirled across her, before she took control of herself.

"Stay cool, Murray," the instruction to herself was barely audible. "We gotta stay cool if we're gonna get outa this one."

Wil began to move again, her long loping stride taking her swiftly down the corridor. She paused briefly by each door she passed and twisted furtively at the doorknobs.

They were all locked - just like the last four times she had tried them.

Cautiously she crept down the corridor, hugging the wall while muttering something unintelligible to herself.

*****

The tall figure had stopped at a T-junction when a door some distance behind her swung open just a crack. The woman did not appear to notice that one of the portals she had so recently tested and found locked had opened, apparently of its own volition. Instead, the dark-haired woman looked left then right as she debated with herself.

The door closed, shutting with the barest snick and then, a few seconds later, the next door up the hallway opened, just a little bit, like before. The woman was facing down the left-hand corridor of the T-junction, apparently having made her choice, when this door too closed.

Without warning she impulsively spun about and marched determinedly down the right-hand corridor. The next door along, the one closest to where the woman had just been standing, crept open. There was a brief pause before the door jerked wider open - as though surprised to find the corridor empty.

Then the wooden portal shut with a quick movement.

*****

Wil crept along the corridor, still muttering to herself. She spun around, landing on the balls of her feet and facing the way she had come from. Did she just hear a door close? Wil strained her hearing, but the silence was complete and total.

"Stay. Fuckin'. Calm." The command was whispered yet harsh.

Wil checked the door on the right side of the corridor. It was locked. She crept onward until she was at the next door, on the left-hand side. It too was locked.

"Shit."

She moved on.

*****

The door the woman had found locked a few second before opened a crack. The inch of separation between the door and its frame revealed an inky darkness, an impenetrable nothingness from which a malevolent intelligence regarded the human being in the light. The door closed.

The next door along the corridor, closer still to the cautiously moving figure, opened with an unnatural silence. Then, after the briefest pause, that door too closed and another opened. The sequence of opening and closing doors was gaining upon the woman.

This door closed just as the tall female turned and looked back the way she had come with a quizzical expression. She moved on, pausing to try another door and finding it locked like all the others.

In view of the previously rapid sequence of activity from the doors, the lack of further movement held a tone of pregnant expectancy. It was almost as if a plan was being formulated.

*****

"I swear this fuckin' place ain't natural - but no surprise there," Wil muttered to herself as she crept along. "And it sure ain't like no house I've ever seen - it's more like a fuckin' tunnel complex. It's..."

The sentence was never completed, as the door in front of her was open, just a crack. After finding every other door in the house locked, finding one that was not only unlocked but also open was surprising to say the least.

Wil stared at the door for a moment, unsure. There was no light on in that room - there was only an utter darkness within. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run, but she did not. A combination of obstinate refusal to give into her fears and curiosity held her there.

Her foot moved to take her first step closer to the inviting doorway almost without conscious direction. And once started, the process could not be stopped, until she stood before that dark portal.

Wil reached out and grasped the edge of the door; slowly she opened it wider.

There was nothing there. Literally. The blackness was so thick - so complete - it almost felt like a wall.

"E...Elizabeth?" Wil's voice disappeared into the illimitable gloom, smothered and lost forever. "Elizabeth? Are you in there?"

She shuffled closer, until she was inches from the threshold that divided dark from light. Surely Elizabeth couldn't be sleeping in there? The darkness was suffocating. There was no reference point for the eye to latch on to - it was as though the world stopped and a void began.

Wil sighed and relaxed slightly. "Don't be stupid, Murray," she chastised herself, "It's just a fuckin' dark...woah!!"

*****

Azrael strode happily down the hallway, humming tunelessly to himself. He rounded a corner, sliding his hand down the oak paneling as he went, and pulled up abruptly at one of the doors lining the passageway. With barely a pause he opened it and stepped through.

The door proved to be an exterior one, for it revealed a drab, damp scene. Azrael - no longer human looking now, but instead a hulking, eight-foot tall, red-skinned demon - trudged along the gravel pathway that soon disappeared into a forest. There was a very light rain upon the air, barely more than a mist. Azrael gave the briefest of glances behind him at the doorway standing forlorn and alone in the middle of the field, before turning and following the path into the forest.

The forest was a gloomy, somehow disturbing collection of unnaturally twisted trees rather than a forest in the conventional sense. It was as though the trees has gathered together to form a group of malformed individuals and never gelled into a homogenous collective that could be called a forest.

Things scurried and slithered within the shadows cast by those living wooden aberrations - things that watched with greedy, fearful eyes as Azrael passed. A few hisses - low, hate-filled and threatening - sounded from the moldering undergrowth as he passed. But he returned each challenge with a savage glare and hiss of his own that proved enough to send the occupants of the foliage scurrying off in the darker depths of that malignant grove.

After about ten minutes of Azrael trudging - still humming happily in between savage glares and hisses -along the forest path, a clearing in the trees hove into view.

In the middle of this clearing sat a large wooden structure, an Inn as it turned out. Lights were visible at the building's windows, smoke drifted from the chimneys and a hubbub of voices could be heard from within.

Azrael paused at the entrance just long enough to slip the hood of his cloak over his head, then opened the door and stepped into the cavernous barroom with its thick atmosphere of drink, drugs, sweat and noise.

The patrons were a polyglot bunch - an eclectic assortment indeed. Despite the variegated nature of the clientele, they all had one thing in common - they were all demons. It was impossible to simply characterize these creatures, as they came in a bewildering array of shapes and sizes: some scaled, some not, some with wings, some with tentacles instead of limbs or tentacles growing from odd places in addition to their limbs. You name it - it was here. However, most possessed some combination of fangs, claws, spikes and such the like as to make passing through the crowd a dangerous business. One drunken stumble could get you impaled on someone's spiked back, as Azrael had just observed happen.

He slipped easily through the patrons; Azrael was not the biggest creature in the room, not by a long shot, but something about his presence and the confident way he moved caused most of the crowd to subtly make way for him.

He spied the Innkeeper engaged in conversation with a man - a big man with thinning red hair - but very human-looking nonetheless. The bartender, a long, lithe demon covered in purple scales of varying shades, nodded animatedly as the pair discussed the finer points of owning and operating a drinking establishment. Azrael glanced at the man, curious for a moment as to what a human would be doing here. Then, with a stab of unease, he saw and felt the waves of power rolling off the redhead. Whatever dimension that creature was from, he decided, it was not Earth. With a slightly hurried air, Azrael moved deeper into the crowd.

Soon, Azrael told himself, I will be the one with the power, and they will all worship me.

As he disappeared amongst the sea of bodies the demon Innkeeper and his conversation partner looked up, staring for a moment at Azrael's broad back. Then they gave each other a knowing, raised-eyebrow glance, before settling back into their conversation.

Azrael showed not the slightest sign of disquiet as he weaved through the Faustian nightmare that was the crowd. He paused briefly to join a circle of onlookers who were shouting excited support at two small creatures locked in a vicious death struggle. It was not long before one of the beasts triumphed in a spray of ichor and cries of either disappointment or triumph went through the crowd. Azrael moved on as wealth began to change hands - he had a meeting to make tonight.

The cloaked, hooded Azrael spied his man seated at one of the table and made his way to him.

Another was there, female, scantily clad, with green, scaly skin and three pendulous breasts. She was leaning over his contact, who appeared near mesmerized by those mammaries. Azrael reached the table and casually hurled the female away by the neck. She fell to the ground amidst a crowd of disturbed patrons, some of whom spilled their drinks on her - accidentally or accidentally-on-purpose. The green-skinned demoness snarled at her attacker in surprised rage.

"Who in Karg's name do you think you..."

Azrael cut her short. He snarled back at her, his powerful, eight-foot tall frame towering over the green demon on the floor as he exposed canine incisors. "Be gone, whore, before I disembowel you with your own jawbone!!"

She recovered some bluster, but disappeared into the crowd as quickly as her unsteady legs would carry her, muttering obscenities under her breath.

"Sorry about that. But I am pressed for time. She had nice tits though, didn't you think?"

Azrael grinned at his contact, still happy.

"That she did, my Lord.

Probably a few dozen diseases too. You probably saved me from myself."

He smiled back, politely rather than happily. "Can I get you a drink, my Lord?"

"No thank you, my man."

Azrael waved away his offer. His contact was a non-descript figure, relative to the other patrons of the Inn, that is. He was of average height and build by human standards, with brown hair of medium length and dark brown skin. In fact, he looked remarkably human, apart from the dark orange eyes and small, curved horns projecting from either side of his neck. His tunic and cloak were likewise brown.

Azrael kept smiling happily. There was an activity at the table behind the brown man and Azrael's eye fell on it as he sat down.

"My Lord seems particularly pleased tonight. Is he glad to be back in the demon realms?"

"What? Oh! Partially,

Zaph, partially that, but mainly because I just got some really great head from someone very special to me. I tell you Wil Murray sucks dick like nothing else in creation does. Did you know that?"

"I was not aware of that fact, my Lord. I am happy for you however," Zaph replied blankly.

"Of course you are."

There was a female tied to the next table and it appeared the rest of the Tavern's patrons were helping themselves to her. The bound woman was secured at the neck, wrist and waist to the rough wooden table, while a large demon stood between her legs and pounded into her vigorously. She could make but little protest in spite of being fucked so harshly, as there was another female sitting on her face - obviously receiving the ministrations of the victim's tongue. The table shuddered and groaned with each powerful thrust into the girl, and the demon mounted on her face whooped and pretended to be riding some sort of wild animal in response to the tables movement.

"What did that one do?" Azrael indicated the victim with a slight movement of his hand.

"Hmmm?" The brown-clad man turned. "Oh! That one dropped her bread in the fondue."

"Seems a bit much for dropping a little piece of bread."

"It was the third time she'd done it tonight."

"Ah! Well that's fair punishment then."

"He's next." Zaph jerked his thumb.

Azrael looked and saw a man being restrained by one of the Inn's bouncers. It took a couple of seconds before recognition dawned.

"Marzak!"

"Excuse me?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing - I just recognized someone. So," Azrael was thoughtful now, "I have a feeling I know who that..." He raised himself off the seat slightly, trying to get a better view of the female orgy victim. The creature sitting on the

woman's face was grinding her hips upon the girl and now gave a cry as she began to climax. No, better make that he/she, Azrael thought as the demon slid its cock out of the girl's mouth and paused to pump slime over her face. Breasts and penis means hermaphrodite. The next patron in the queue - who definitely had no male genitalia despite being prodigiously muscled - climbed onto the table and pressed herself onto the girl, urging her to work. Immediately she complied and began eating the newcomer enthusiastically. Azrael sighed and sank back into his seat.

"Problem, my Lord?"

"Nothing I can't take care of. Now, to business - tell me what you have seen. What is the state of the front lines?"

"Of course, my Lord. I first reconnoitered the forces of Lord Mort..."

"Why him first?"

"He has regular prayer meetings in your honor, my Lord. A commendable display of devotion, to be sure, but it does make his sentry changes predictable."

"Ah-huh. Apparently loyalty and brains don't mix. But then that's why he's the minion and I'm the man."

"Doubtless so, my Lord. However, it seems that..."

Zaph presented his report, answering Azrael's questions as required. Azrael himself was attentive, but occasionally was distracted by the activities at the next table. The crowd had finished with the girl - she'd been rolled off the table and lay in a heap on the beer-sodden floor. The male had taken her place; he was now tied face down on the table and was being vigorously fucked anally while being forced to give oral service. More drunken revelers cheered the scene on until it was their turn to take their pleasure - the queue never seemed to shorten. A smaller demon, an imp, had mounted the discarded female and humped her rapidly; she just lolled around under the abuse - naked, semi-conscious and helpless.

Azrael demanded of Zaph that they move to another table after a huge demon began whipping the bound man with his triple-lashed tail - the 'crack' of it made conversation too difficult and tiny flecks of blood were flying over to them.

Eventually Zaph had delivered his report and Azrael was satisfied. He bade the man goodbye. Then Azrael sat by himself for a time, deep in thought, not even paying attention to the whores who occasionally tried to engage him in conversation.