Accidental Summoning Ch. 04

In contrast to Desdemona's expansive penthouse, Alichino preferred a much smaller place. Paul was still surprised that his demonic lover had suggested staying with Ali while the former was 'on assignment' for Father. The three of them were close, but he still expected Desdemona to be more possessive about him.

Des had smiled at his surprise. "Ali's a dear friend. She doesn't have anyone of her own right now and I hate to think of you sleeping all by yourself with no one to cuddle."

Paul had shrugged and gone with it. Ali had turned out to be less of a horndog than Des but more inventive in bed.

He entered the apartment's main room, which was lit by a skylight that showed Abbadon's ever-flaming sky. Paul looked around and wondered where Ali was. The main room only had space for a few couches, and held no sign of Ali. She hadn't been there that morning either. But she also hadn't left a note or any word of her being sent off by Father. Paul checked the apartment's bedroom and its small library, and still found no trace of her.

Paul had told Janelle the truth; he wasn't worried about Des. But Ali's absence was now beginning to concern him.

He looked around the library and wondered what to do next or if he should talk to somebody. His worrying was interrupted by the 'VWAP' of a demon teleporting. He sighed in relief and walked out into the main room. Alichino was there, as he'd hoped. But she was unexpectedly clad in green medical scrubs and wearing a sensible blue sweater.

"Ali! Thank goodness, I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to."

The green-skinned demon snorted and rolled her eyes. "You would not believe the fucking day I've had." She threw a binder onto one of the couches. A very familiar-looking binder. "Guess which timeline I just got yanked into?"

Paul approached the binder and flipped it open. A few pages of his alternate Sumerian translation scheme stared up at him. "Aw, shit-burgers."

__________________________________________________________

Randall dragged the knife across Hamid's neck. The bastard's own slashed trachea leered like a second mouth at the bound man. "Being dead is really cool!" gurgled Randall through his open wound. "You'll love it!"

Hamid awoke with a groan. His sheets were wound around him from his thrashing, and after taking a moment to extricate himself he wobbled into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

Detective Alberth had told Hamid that the legal process might take a couple of months. 'A couple' turned out to be more like six. The only saving grace of the whole mess was that he didn't have to testify in court. The district attorney was not about to put him on the stand, since any halfway-competent defense lawyer would be able to negate his testimony by simply bringing up the little matter of Hamid being off of his tits on psychoactive drugs at the time.

The detective was right about Wilfred Nason, however. The second 'Fuckwit Twin' was found in a ditch about twenty-four hours after Alberth had interviewed Hamid. Wilfred was in a pitiable condition and wearing nothing but one sock. He was suffering from exposure and smeared with his own excrement. He wasn't screaming like Lonnie. Instead he just twitched and mumbled about green demon women jumping out of the shadows and sticking him with needles. To no one's surprise, his blood also tested positive for the same drugs as Hamid and Lonnie.

Some searching around the ditch had then turned up Paul Haskell's notebook, or at least some of it. A lot of the pages were torn or missing, but the remaining pages were verified as Paul's handwriting. A few ancient language experts had also looked the pages over and deemed them nonsense. The missing student was clearly just trying to make Sumerian cuneiform 'look cooler' as an art project; there was no real semantic theory behind it.

After Wilfred's arrest, both he and Lonnie had competed to see who could throw whom under the proverbial bus faster. That contest ended in a tie with both of them pleading guilty to attempted murder. Hamid had shown up at the sentencing hearings, mostly because it was expected of him. Wilfred's sentencing had been more pitiful than dramatic. Randall's one-time minion was now clearly a broken man, and he spent the entire time staring at the table in front of him. He never looked even once in Hamid's direction.

Lonnie's sentencing, on the other hand, was a lot more lively. Upon seeing Hamid seated near the back, Lonnie started screaming and pointing one shaking finger at his would-be sacrificial victim. "He is MARKED!" Lonnie screamed. "Can't you SEE it? The bitch PUT HER SIGN ON HIM!" It took several policemen to hold the guy in his chair. Hamid just shrugged and allowed himself to be escorted out by an apologetic bailiff.

The two of them remained prime suspects in the disappearance of Paul Haskell, in spite of both swearing up and down that they'd had nothing to do with his vanishing. But a thorough search of Lonnie's apartment turned up a few items of clothing that had Paul's DNA on them. That, plus the notebook, was enough for the Fuckwit Twins to get charged as accessories to his murder.

It didn't really matter in the end, since they'd both been institutionalized as criminally insane. Whenever Hamid found himself feeling sorry for them he then remembered the terror he'd felt in that abandoned basement. Those bastards had quite cheerfully participated in something that they thought would end in his death.

Paul Haskell was also pronounced dead. The late Randall Petersen had probably killed Paul, or at least that was the going theory. Afterward Hamid had run into Paul's sister a couple of times around campus. Liselle cornered him the first time and made him tell her about what the demon had said about Paul. Hamid dutifully told her that Paul was supposedly alive and happy, but made sure to stress that it was all just a figment of his drugged imagination. But from her oddly sunny demeanor he suspected that she didn't believe him.

The press had gone bug-fuck nuts, of course. The satanic-worship stuff was what really sent it over the edge. Hamid became very adept at coming up with varied ways to say 'no comment'. After one particularly obnoxious tabloid reporter camped out for a solid week in front of his apartment building, Hamid finally gave in and called Detective Alberth. The reporter was chased off and the word had gone out to leave Hamid alone.

After Lonnie's screamed declarations in court, Hamid found himself staring more carefully into mirrors on occasion. He didn't see any 'mark' in spite of Alichino's statement that she'd put a sigil on him. Sometimes, however, Hamid would walk by a reflective surface and catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that was hovering just over his head. It was hard to tell from just brief glimpses, but it looked like a glowing green tree.

That was the only thing that kept Hamid from writing Alichino off as exactly what the authorities had called her; a figment of his drugged imagination. But as the six-month mark rolled around he still hadn't heard anything from her. Maybe she had reconsidered their 'date', or maybe she was off working for that 'Father' person she'd mentioned.

Campus life was now both better and worse. It was better because he was pleased to find out that a lot of the people he called his friends really were his friends. They didn't get weirded out or go to the other extreme and get too smothering. A lot of them made sure to tell him that they were there to lend an ear if he ever needed it. Hamid's sister was studying to be a therapist, and she told him that he had 'a first-class support system," whatever that was.

What made things worse was that he was now a figure of some noteriety. Hamid would be quite happy to fade back into the background and get on with his studies. But now he was the subject of curious stares and whispering, which was irritating to his retiring nature.

The nightmares had been fading, fortunately. More than once he'd been in the grip of a really horrifying dream, reliving those moments of bound helplessness in that damned basement while Randall approached him with a knife and an evil smile. More recently those dreams tended to fade off into other, nicer dreams in which he was held gently while staring into a pair of warm and glowing yellow eyes.

The afternoon after that latest nightmare Hamid came home sweating and limping slightly from rugby practice. He grabbed the mail out of his mailbox and mounted the steps to his little apartment while sorting through it all. Most of it was junk mail with the occasional bill. There was one letter from an author who was trying to put together a true-crime book about Randall's double life. Hamid shook his head; the guy had been trying email and text with no success, and now had resorted to actual physical letters. Such effort was almost enough to make Hamid give in and talk to him. Almost.

Beneath that letter was a small envelope of pale green paper. There was nothing written on it and no return address. Hamid opened the door to his apartment and set his mail on the kitchen counter, then picked up the mystery envelope from the top of the pile. He sniffed it tentatively and was met with a spicy and floral scent that he remembered very well. Hamid took a deep breath and opened it.

Inside was a single slip of the same pale green paper, with four words written on it in a neat cursive hand.

Tonight, my gallant cutie.

Hamid took another steadying breath. Most other people would have panicked and run, or gone off to schedule an emergency session with a psychiatrist. Hamid was not most people, however. And so after round-filing all of the junk mail Hamid headed out the door again to do some shopping for dinner.

Choosing a wine was the real headache. He was a complete neophyte at such things. But the rest of the dinner came together well. He had been working on duplicating his grandmother's roast chicken and had almost nailed it down. Tonight he was not going to experiment but instead use his most recent successful recipe. His only worry was not having enough time to get the chicken properly brined and marinated.

But he managed regardless, and as the sun set he arranged his one good pair of plates and utensils on his coffee table. It was the only table-like piece of furniture in his apartment, and he hoped his guest would understand.

Hamid also set out a pair of brand-new candles in brand-new holders and lit them. He headed back into the kitchen to do one final check on everything while he tried to calm his own increased heartbeat. As he stirred the reducing sauce, he had a brief moment of utter panic. What if he was insane? What if there had been no letter? It would be beyond pathetic for him to set up a romantic dinner for two while expecting some kind of demonic entity to just 'pop by'...

His momentary panic was interrupted as a pair of slim green arms came around his midsection in a gentle hug. There was a very warm pressure all along his back along with a fresh wave of that wonderful floral scent.

"So what's for dinner?" asked Alichino.

That scent of hers seemed to go right into his hindbrain, and Hamid relaxed again. "For the main course, there's roast chicken and potatoes with a mushroom reduction sauce. There's salad and baked rolls as well, since I wasn't sure if you were a pure carnivore. I have to confess that the rolls are store-bought, but they're not bad."

She kissed the back of his neck. "I am an omnivore, dear. I eat everything up to and including you." She patted his stomach. "But that last is strictly metaphorical, not literal."

He turned within her arms to stare down into her warm yellow eyes. As his own arms embraced her as well, he realized how oddly right this felt. "So how have you been?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Well enough. I've been here for a couple of days shadowing your detective friend and checking his files. It looks like the whole mess is pretty much wrapped up. Nobody else got arrested. Well, at least not on the satanic-cult front. Randall's little drug empire has suffered plenty of arrests."

Hamid realized something at that moment. He kicked himself for not getting it earlier. "That's why you didn't just kill Lonnie and Wilfred! You wanted to see if there was anybody else involved in planning your summoning."

Ali smiled. "Well, that and I try not to kill humans if I can help it. Randall was a special case, I assure you. I could read his soul and knew that if I didn't do something he would have killed somebody soon enough." She shook her head. "But let's not talk about that. How are *you* doing? Any nightmares?"

"A few, but they're getting less frequent. I remember you in a lot of them, and that helps a lot. Are you, um, doing that? Putting yourself in my dreams, I mean."

"Nope. That's all you. Now let's move to some more pleasant conversation."

Hamid laughed and agreed, and got back to setting everything up. Ali sat cross-legged next to his impromptu dining table. She wore an expectant smile as he got everything plated and brought it out. The demon was as naked as before, and her position was such that her lower lips were on full display. He suspected that was her intent, but didn't remark on it.

He managed to get the wine uncorked without making too much of a mess of it and poured them each a glass before seating himself. "I hope this vintage is acceptable. I had to rely on the store clerk to recommend something."

"I'm sure it will be fine. Good company makes any wine better." She toasted him with her glass, and he felt her tail rub along his leg under the table. He toasted her back and they fell to.

The conversation was a mixture of light and heavy. The 'heavy' portion was Alichino filling in Hamid on the true nature of reality; there were an infinite number of Earth timelines parallel to each other, and a significant chunk of those timelines were 'ruled' by her kind. Although from the sound of it that 'ruling' was with a very light hand. His own timeline was apparently considered by demon-kind to be out in the un-civilized wilderness. That was one of the reasons that her people had never appeared all that often on Hamid's version of Earth.

"Plus you now have nuclear weapons in this timeline," she said. "Which makes things even more dicey if we ever decide to show up and announce ourselves."

"But I don't understand your peoples' motivation. Why do you, er, 'domesticate' so many timelines? I would think a few would be plenty."

"We're fighting something," said Alichino. "Something that wants to destroy literally all of existence. But that's too horrible to talk about over dinner." She smiled, and the sight of that smile made Hamid's unease evaporate.

"Now, how's that adorable grandmother of yours doing?" she asked.

Hamid laughed. "As unstoppable as ever. Grandma's taken a real shine to Detective Alberth. I think it offends her personally that he's single and she's taken on the task of finding him a wife."

Alichino laughed as well and picked up a piece of her chicken. She bit out a big chunk of meat and bone and swallowed it whole like a snake. "Well, if she taught you how to cook this good then I say let her do her thing."

As the dinner wound down, she gave him a thoughtful look. Hamid took a nervous sip of wine and hoped that he wasn't going to regret this. She reached across the table and offered her hand to Hamid. He reached over to take it, feeling again that surprising warmth. She seemed to stare right into him as she spoke.

"I really like you, Hamid. I liked you from that first night in the basement. Most humans would have been crying or soiling themselves, but you just rolled with it and accepted what was going on. I didn't even have to calm you with my domination."

"Oh? I thought you'd settled me down with that same mind-thing that you...well, used to stop me from running."

She squeezed his hand. "No, I didn't. And then there was your resourcefulness in getting yourself loose. You impressed me, so much so that I've been thinking about you these last few months. I do want to show you a good time, but there are a few things you need to be aware of before I make good on that promise to fuck you silly."

He smiled. "As long as it doesn't involve me actually having to sign over my soul or something I'm game."

She didn't smile back and gave his hand another squeeze. "First, you have to know that we demons are wired strangely in the head. We can only get off when we're dominating our partner mentally. So I'd have to perform on you a version of that 'mind-thing', as you called it."

Hamid thought about it for a bit. "Well, I trust you not to abuse me. What else?"

She gave a sly smile. "Sex between us isn't going to be as simple as you pitching and me catching. You see, my kind are hermaphrodites. We pitch as well as catch."

Her tail slid up his side and reared up next to his face like a curious snake. Now that he was this close, he could see the darker-green bulge at the end of that tail was definitely glans-shaped, complete with a little slit in the center. Her tail-cock bobbed as if it was bowing to him, and then withdrew back under the table.

"Oh." Hamid sat stunned for a while. He had always considered himself heterosexual, and had been attracted pretty much exclusively to women. And Alichino was definitely feminine, but she also had...extra bits. Yet that knowledge didn't dull his attraction to her one bit.

Then he realized that it wasn't important. "There's only one thing I care about, and it isn't that," he said aloud. Ali's eyes widened in surprise as he continued. "You see...my mother died a couple of years ago, just as I started college. Ovarian cancer. Before she passed, she made me swear that I would look for a 'permanent thing', as she put it, and not just screw around.

"And it's been difficult. I'm as randy as the next guy, plus I've gotten lots of extra attention thanks to all of this recent nonsense. But she was my mom, you know? So I've kept my promise." He looked soberly at Alichino. "You saved my life, so if this is just a bit of fun for you I'm okay with that. But I would like this to be something more." Hamid laughed. "A girl has a reputation to uphold, after all. I can't be hopping into bed with any adorable demon that comes along."

Ali smiled back. She released his hand and stood. "Please, stand here." She pointed at the floor next to her. Hamid obeyed, wondering if this was part of her mind-control. But so far his actions felt voluntary.

She clasped his arms and stared up into his face as if searching for something long-lost. Finally she smiled. "You are a very odd and interesting human. I'm going to take ahold of your mind now. And then I will show you exactly how I feel about you. Please keep looking into my eyes."

Hamid did so, and suddenly felt as if his mind was seized in two warm and gigantic hands. Alichino's glowing eyes were bottomless, they were his whole world. He could stand here forever and gaze into those eyes. He now knew her true power, not embodied in her slender body but in her mind. There was a careful strength in that grip on Hamid's brain, a force of will that he knew could break his soul with ease. She could leave him a drooling wreck, make him her ardent slave, turn him into nothing but a plaything of flesh.

And yet also he felt the caution in that mental hold and knew that he was safe. Alichino was older than any human civilization, and she'd seen countless humans live out lifetimes that were to her like those of mayflys. And yet in spite of that incredibly long life Alichino still loved people. But that was a general kind of affection. There was something else behind that, an emotion that was coming for him like a charging elephant. It burst through that diffuse warm fog of affection and hit his mind with sledgehammer force.