Dead and Horny Ch. 22

Realization finally snapped into place. What Dana was seeing on Eulalie's face was loss, plain and simple. Velvet's death had broken Eulalie, but the Arachne had worked hard to put herself back together. But now, in this moment, all of the cracks from being shattered were on full display for the world to see.

Seeing Eulalie's emotions laid bare revealed yet another truth. Dana may have fooled herself into thinking she was just doing this for Eulalie, but that wasn't actually true. She missed her friend. She wanted to do this for herself. Her emotions were a whirlwind, so she grabbed onto the first one she could. From somewhere buried deep in her stomach, a ball of rage began to unfold.

Dana locked eyes with Eulalie just as the anger boiled over, filling her with a thirst for violence.

"Dana?" asked Eulalie.

"I would like to use rage," said Dana, staring down at the table from above. Bigfoot chuckled quietly to himself and leaned back in his chair.

"I was wondering when you'd finally get around to using it," he said.

Dana smirked and picked up her mini. "The extra hit points will help me get to Eulalie, and then I can help kick some ass afterward." She moved her miniature next to Eulalie's wizard.

"Hold on." Bigfoot rolled the dice and frowned. "Oof, that didn't go as planned."

"What happened?" asked Eulalie and Velvet at the same time. Both of them were leaning over the table, their eyes shining in the lantern light.

"Critical miss on the attack of opportunity." When the sasquatch grinned, it showed all his teeth. "Looks like you got lucky!"

"Hell, yeah," Dana replied.

Charging forward, Dana felt the world slow to a crawl. Her mind was racing so fast that she had plenty of time to think about her next moves. Blood was spilled, hot and fresh, and she licked it off her lips. It gave her strength, speed, and maybe something more.

Legion seemed to realize that something was up, and she got rushed again. Though her strength was increasing, it still wasn't enough for ten thralls at once. Suddenly, Tasia was there, ripping the parishioners away. The two of them fell back together, Dana surveying their attackers. She was bleeding from multiple wounds, and her body was knitting itself back together as fast as possible.

"This is a mess," she said, her words oozing out of her like molasses. Even now, the world was starting to speed up again. If they were going to get out of this, she needed that extra edge the blood provided.

The smell of steaks sizzling on a grill splashed down on her from above, and Dana turned her head to sniff the sweet ambrosia of werewolf blood. Remembering what had happened before, she looked up into Tasia's face.

"Stop me if this goes bad." Honestly, if this didn't work, things were going to be bad anyway. She scooped up the blood on her fingers and stuck it in her mouth.

"Alright, I should be able to take a hit," Eulalie said. "Let's see here. Dana is acting as my meat shield right now, so that should keep my butt out of the fire. How are you holding up, Vee?"

Velvet arched an eyebrow. "I took three hits this round, what do you think?"

"Can you take at least one more?" Eulalie pointed at a cultist in the corner. "Because if he doesn't kill you, I can cast Haste."

"Wicked." Velvet's eyes lit up.

"What does Haste do?" asked Dana.

"Short version, let's Velvet make an extra attack with each weapon," Eulalie replied. "And since she's a ranger dual wielding katanas..."

Velvet cackled maniacally and pulled extra dice out of her bag. "The prophecy shall be fulfilled," she declared.

"Only if you hit," Bigfoot reminded her. "These aren't your favored enemies."

"Thanks for the reminder, Uncle Foot." Velvet stuck out her tongue.

"Two Weapon Fighting has its drawbacks," explained Eulalie. "Mathematically speaking, you would typically be better off trying to wield a weapon normally because your chance to hit goes up, but your damage output is much higher if you have two weapons and can actually land both hits."

Dana nodded. "Yeah, I remember we discussed this when I made this character after the last one died. I can use Power Attack to do something similar."

"You didn't explain the best part," Velvet said as she cupped her hands together around all her dice.

"What's the best part?" asked Dana.

"Hold on." Velvet targeted the cultist nearest her. "This guy," she said, then rolled her twenty-sided die several times.

Bigfoot bit his lip in thought, then nodded. "Technically, you missed once, but I'll give it to you because Rule of Cool."

"Rule of Cool," Velvet declared, then grabbed the stack of dice she had just set up and started shaking them in her hands. "And now for the best part!" She threw the dice on the table and let out a cackle. "Whoop whoop! I love that sound!"

Bigfoot leaned forward and scrutinized the dice. "Yeah, that will do it. You bring down your blades so fast you reduce the cultist in front of you into a bloody mess."

"Yeah!" Velvet pumped her arms.

"That's my girl," Eulalie said with a grin.

Tasia howled, then leapt off the stage, leaving her weapon behind. Caught up in the present and her memory at the same time, Dana found herself repeating Eulalie's words. Along the edges of the stage, figures swarmed her as others fled. The world had become sticky, clinging to all of its players and allowing Dana to properly think and feel for the first time in forever.

There was a hole deep inside, right next to the one that Alex had left. For the first time, Dana felt like she could run her hands along its side and properly feel its dimensions. Ever since she had died, nothing was supposed to hurt her. But right now, she felt the bitter loss of her friend. Other emotions tried to call for her attention, powered by the fresh blood in her system, but she pushed them all away. For now, she wanted to hurt. She wanted to be angry.

"I'm feeling particularly murderous," she said to nobody but herself, then took two steps to the right and picked up the blade Tasia had left behind. It was identical to her own in the ways that mattered. If she closed her eyes, she doubted she would be able to tell the difference.

Behind her, she heard someone slide a fresh clip into a gun. Stepping back and to the side, she whipped around and brought the blades down in tandem. The man who had snuck up on her froze in shock as he lost first his hands, then his life. Standing over his corpse, Dana stared down at him in contempt.

"Two Weapon Fighting," she whispered. "I'm going to roll all the dice tonight."

A pair of demons tried to flee up the aisle just as Timotei burst into the church. Tasia immediately engaged the vampyr, and the two of them tore apart the room as Dana danced between her foes, her enchanted blades singing a song of bloody destruction.

"Who are you?" one of the demons demanded as Dana pinned him to the wall.

"You killed my friend," she replied, then beheaded him. Nearby, another Legion groaned.

"Why do you all keep saying that?" Legion demanded. Dana replied to this meatsuit in a similar manner, then shredded a trio of zombies who came for the snacks. The undead ignored her, so they were easy kills. Looking up, she saw that Legion was trying to flee.

"You're not fast enough," she growled with tears streaming down her face, then threw herself at the demons once more.

Lily sprinted across the upper level of the church, keeping her eyes open for any signs of resistance. Sure enough, a small group of Legions emerged from a darkened hallway, their eyes blazing with light.

"You'll go no further," they declared, spreading out in the hopes of stopping her. Lily slid to a stop, her wings folding shut behind her. These were some of the younger vessels that Legion had claimed, each one strengthened by the demon's essence as well as the thrall bond they had with Timotei. Alone, they were no match for her. Together, they would slow her down or even stop her.

"Do you really think you can stop me?" she asked.

As a group, Legion nodded.

"Good." Lily moved forward as if to brute force her way down the hallway, hopefully moving in Deacon's direction. The men and women formed themselves into a wedge, ready to wrestle her down. Once they were lined up, Lily pulled out the Mossberg shotgun she had stolen from a mercenary and emptied three rounds into the group, causing them to cry out in dismay as they fell in on each other.

The succubus chuckled at the two Legions who stared at their counterparts dying on the floor. They gazed up at her in horror as she aimed the gun their way. "It's wabbit season," she declared, pumping it for effect and to chamber the next cartridge.

She had expected them to run, but they tried to charge her instead. Using the Mossberg as a club, she knocked one out and then stabbed the other through the neck with her tail.

"Hardly worth the ammo," she muttered as she hopped over the spreading pool of blood on the floor. "Now where did your buddy go?"

It took a little bit of sleuthing, but Lily knew she had hit the jackpot when she came across a door with an Enochian seal scratched into the ceiling that trapped her in place. She used the remaining rounds in her Mossberg to destroy the formation, then kicked open the door to reveal Deacon trying to squeeze out the window while carrying what was clearly a bug-out bag.

"No, wait," he cried, but Lily snatched him with her tail and tossed him into a nearby chair.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," she said with a grin, licking her lips seductively. Deacon shivered in fear as Lily used the last of her venom to send him spiraling into unconsciousness. As the good pastor drifted off to slumberland, Lily got up and pushed the biggest piece of furniture she could find in front of the door.

"It's dinnertime," she declared, then sat on his lap and leaned close, her consciousness sliding forward and into his. Her descent into Deacon's Dreamscape was seamless, and she found herself sliding down the interior walls of his church, unseen by the faceless congregation. It was easy enough to move among the parishioners. They were like mannequins that had been posed and were awaiting further instructions.

"What's all this about?" Lily poked one of the faceless members of the congregation, then altered her outfit and squeezed between a couple. She had to wait a few more minutes for Deacon to properly appear in his own Dreamscape, but his entrance was nothing short of ostentatious. Trumpets heralded his arrival, and he descended from above on a pair of white, feathered wings that extended far behind him. A beam of light guided him to his place on the stage, and the crowd went berserk.

"Greetings, friends!" Deacon held his hands in the air and closed his eyes, bathing in the adoration. Though the parishioners lacked faces, they certainly had pockets, because they started throwing their money onto the stage.

"I don't even need Freud for this one," Lily muttered to herself as she started slinking toward the stage. She gave a mental tug at the scenery and wasn't surprised when she couldn't alter the landscape. If she pulled too hard, it might alert Deacon to the fact that she was in his head. Typically, this wasn't something her prey would be aware of, but the man had spent years with a demon. It would be dumb to assume he didn't have some sort of mental defenses taught to him.

She meandered through the crowd, noticing that the congregation became more animated whenever he was looking at them. It was almost like his brain was a computer that simply couldn't process the details of something he wasn't looking at directly. A few more minutes of inspection revealed that the reason for this was that the dream was recurring. His mind was on autopilot, meaning that it would be much easier for him to detect her if she caused the vision to deviate.

Scowling, she moved to the edge of his vision and snuck onto the stage and then behind it. It was easy to move among the shadows, but she still took her time. Call it a hunch, but something struck her as odd about the whole vision.

While debating whether she should populate the front of the congregation with attractive women, or maybe have a sexy AV tech come on stage, Deacon stopped mid speech and turned to look over his shoulder. Lily knelt down behind a speaker and turned her thoughts inward in an attempt to avoid detection.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "Legion? Is that you?"

Lily knew better than to attempt impersonating the other demon. The fact that Deacon had slipped into lucidity suddenly meant that he had been trained for just this occasion.

"Hello?" Lights clicked on all across the stage, chasing away the shadows. Dark figures lurked at the edges of Deacon's dream, and Lily watched them with suspicion. Those weren't manifestations of hers or Deacon's. They were the ever elusive watchers, beings that lurked in the realm of dreams. She pretended she couldn't see them, knowing better than to get involved with such creatures. If they latched onto Deacon's dream, then they could startle him awake and she might not get a chance to put him back under. She was already low enough on dream juice; succubi weren't meant to stick dozens of people in a single evening.

But those things? If they got hold of her, they could keep her from leaving for long enough that Deacon would get away. Why were they even here? Though there wasn't any rhyme or reason for their presence, they did tend to hover around nightmares and people with dark tendencies. Considering Deacon had just condemned a bunch of people to eternal damnation, she figured that would count.

"Wait a second. Wasn't I at..." Deacon stepped into view, scratching the back of his head. A tiny ripple went through the dream, and Lily felt the boundaries flex. Osgrove was trying to break free using logic, but he was still pretty deep.

Ignoring the watchers, Lily stepped into view, disguising herself as a generic woman in mom jeans and a sweater. "Oh my gosh, is that you? You're Deacon Osgrove, right?"

"Um...yeah." Deacon stood up straight, a look of confusion on his face.

"Wow, I couldn't get tickets to your show. How exciting is this?" Lily ran up to him and took him by the hand. He was off guard, which was a good thing. Deacon tried to stare at one of the shadow entities when it moved in for a closer look, but she put a copy of his book in his hand.

"Sign this for me!" She held out a pen for him and he took it automatically. It was hard to say which vice was his strongest, but it was definitely a tie between greed and pride. Opening up her book, he struggled with the pen as it kept slipping out of his fingers.

"Yeah, um, give me a second." He handed her pen back and stuck his hand in the pocket of his robe to search for one of his own. Lily used the distraction to tone down the venue, removing people and structures as he tried in vain to sign his own name. He messed up several times, but Lily always handed him a fresh new book to try again.

"Can you tell me the story about when you were in a homeless shelter?" Lily bit her lip and swayed from side to side. "It's my favorite."

"Of course." Deacon smiled, and the world behind him melted away. They were now standing inside the homeless shelter, and he led Lily over to a cot where a younger version of him sat on the edge.

She didn't care so much about the story, but his enthusiasm for the subject made it easier for her to take control of the dream. Using the tormented souls trapped inside her essence, she populated the shelter with men and women she had claimed. They obeyed her every whim, allowing her to get a stronger grasp on his dream.

If she hadn't been paying such close attention, she would have missed the enochian script hidden underneath homeless Deacon's cot. She took a step back and smirked at the runes that now glowed before her eyes. This was most likely Legion's handiwork, which meant they expected her to do something like this.

Then again, when would they have done it? No, this was something put in a long time ago, most likely as a precautionary measure. Deacon could talk a mean game about how he and Legion were equal partners, but Lily suspected it might actually be true. Legion had invested quite a bit into their partnership.

Now that she knew the script was there, she had one of her souls take on her visage as she slipped away when Deacon wasn't looking. Her souls wouldn't be affected by the script, but it would detonate like a bomb if she stepped on it. She would get flung out of Osgrove's demented little head and he would awaken.

She would have to take her time. Her original intention had been to get Deacon talking about himself and start flirting, but that was no longer going to work.

Moving carefully to the edges of Deacon's consciousness, she checked in with the real world. Only a couple minutes had passed, but the shouting and gunfire revealed that the party was still in full swing. She most likely only had another few minutes before Legion sent more puppets her way. Sure, she could just break his neck and be done with it, but she wanted his soul in the worst way possible. Already, she fantasized about strapping him down to a moving walkway covered in razor blades for a year or so.

Looking for ideas, she dug through his memories. To her surprise, Deacon had been fairly virtuous. Other than a couple of very discreet dalliances over the last few years, his main focus had been on becoming richer and expanding Legion's congregation. Typically, men in Deacon's position were very eager to abuse their power in whatever way possible, but he was too focused on his goals to worry about getting laid.

She would have to go deeper. While Deacon was distracted by her double, she walked the corridors of his mind and peered into the doorways. So many of the rooms contained Deacon preaching, it was clear that the act really did give him joy. He got to be the center of attention as well as making bank off the pious act. Naturally, she hated him even more for this.

"So what exactly are we hoping to find?" Spirit Mike manifested next to her. There was no goofy outfit this time, his serious features mimicking her own.

"I need to figure out what gets this guy off," she said. "But I have to do it in a way that he doesn't suspect anything. Things back on Earth are very tense, and I'm running up against a deadline."

"Uh huh." Mike scratched at his chin.

"But you knew that already."

"Yep." Mike opened a door and stuck his head inside. "Ugh, he's writing in his journal on the tour bus. That one is a dud."

"Damn. At this rate, I'm gonna have to dry hump him out in meatspace and hope for the best." Lily shook her head in frustration, then kicked open the door nearest to her. Deacon was baptizing a group of people in this one.

"Don't these memories strike you as a little one-dimensional?" Mike opened another door which revealed a park sermon. "I know that the guy has it bad for being America's top pastor, but this almost feels deliberate."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what about you?" Mike leaned against the nearest wall. "For centuries, you just wanted your freedom. Now that you have it, what would your hall look like? Is it all the choices you made? Is it just cherished memories you've made since then?"

"I hate when you analyze me."

He shrugged. "Technically, this is self reflection taken to an extreme. If you don't like it, send a complaint to management."

"Ass." Lily frowned at Mike. "But you're right, though. All this stuff seems so benign. And we already found a trap in here. So what are you thinking?"

"Misdirection." Mike knocked on the door nearest him. "Anyone digging around in here will only see this stuff. If you weren't a succubus, how deep could you even go?"