tagRomanceDemon Night

Demon Night

byMagicaPractica©

Author's Note: This is a paranormal romance submitted for the Literotica Halloween Contest. If you enjoy it, please take a moment to vote and maybe leave a comment. Thanks!

*

Vivienne was ready, but still, she hesitated. Was there any other way? Anyone else? No, he was the only one she could think to ask for help and there wasn't time to delay. Her sister's life might depend upon it.

She took a steadying breath and pushed back the cloud of golden hair that had tumbled free as she worked. She brushed the dust off her hands on the iridescent skirt of her ball gown then looked down at the streaks she had left and grimaced. Should I change? It's been a year. He's probably moved on, started to forget all about me. She wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Need to focus. Halloween was historically the best night for summoning a demon but she had never done it. Vivienne took a deep breath, exhaled, and leaned down to touch the circle she had hastily prepared. She said a few words to put the spell she had spent the last hour preparing into motion and willed power into the circle. Then she said his name.

Smoke roiled up in a cylinder from floor to ceiling, confined by the circle. It seemed to reach a limit and rebound, shrinking in and becoming denser, taking on color and substance. It coalesced into short dark hair, broad shoulders, well defined pecs, and golden skin above sapphire blue pajama bottoms, with a white towel flung over one shoulder and white shaving foam covering half his jaw. One hand was raised to his face with a razor and his blue eyes focused on her.

"Vivienne," he breathed out.

She shivered. It was the same reverential tone he had always used when he said her name and it did something to her, just the way it always had. No one should wield that kind of power with just their voice.

His hand dropped the razor and reached out to her but an electric shock met his fingers when he reached the limits of the circle. He jerked back then looked at her reproachfully. "Viv, a summoning? Really? You could have just called. We get great cell reception over here these days."

The last time they'd spoken, she had been backing away with a knife in one hand. To be fair, she had just found out he was half demon and heard his surname was Beelzebub.

He had thrown his hands up in exasperation. "It's a family name!"

She had walked in on a conversation with his mother via mirror. His mother... who had green skin.

"Vivienne, I'd like you to meet my mother, Katya," he had said in a strained voice.

Katya had smiled, which didn't help. Those sharp teeth had a decidedly predatory look.

Jack had told Vivienne he had come over from Europe to stay with cousins while going to college, but it had been a bit farther than that. After college he'd set up shop as an information agent, calling his firm, "You Don't Know Jack." That was his sense of humor and how he had originally met Vivienne.

She cleared her throat and stared at his knees. "I need some information." Oh, God, why did he have to be half naked?

She heard a low mirthless chuckle. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?"

"My sister is missing. She was supposed to be home this weekend for Halloween but she never arrived. From what I can discern, her boyfriend is gone from the college too." She forced herself to meet his gaze. He had crossed his arms and his face was blank. Would he even help her?

He shrugged. "They probably just came over for a visit and lost track of time. It happens all the time."

Vivienne shook her head. "You don't understand. She has come home every single weekend since school started. She wouldn't miss one without calling."

Jack frowned. "It's Halloween night and everyone is partying. She's in college, things are going to change. And, not everyone is as prejudiced about demons as you."

Her head shot up. "I am not prejudiced!" she said hotly. Witches had been at odds with demons for a millennia but the trade restrictions had been suddenly lifted two years ago. She had been shocked when she found out he was a demon. She had grown up on stories that demons were evil, not to be trusted, and he had been hiding it from her!

He had called after she threw him out, tried to explain, but she had cut him off . . . and out of her life. But then her mind had gone over all the stories and she simply couldn't reconcile them with what she knew of him. She had wanted to call him a million times since then, had started to a hundred, but how could she trust him? He had hidden that he was a demon from her! But what if he had been afraid she would react exactly the way she did?

"Racist then," he ground out.

Vivienne closed her eyes and tears pricked at her eyelids. Tasha was in trouble and not only had she ruined her relationship with Jack, but she had destroyed her only chance for help in finding her sister. She really couldn't blame him. She took a deep breath and prepared to beg.

But he kept talking. "Your sister was doing fine when you kicked me out. Why should this be such a big deal?"

Vivienne shook her head and crushed the skirt of her long gown in both hands. "You know how Tasha was after she developed the . . . drug problem. It got very bad, very fast. She would do anything to get her hands on it, she was dealing. She had a relapse after you left. She's been in counseling for the last three months and doing very well but . . . there was a time where I couldn't leave her alone at all. I had to take her to work with me. I'm afraid she could have relapsed again."

He stared at her for a minute, the expression on his face unreadable but hope flickered to life in Vivienne. He hadn't said no. Even if he thought she was overreacting, it wouldn't take him long to check into it.

"She's gone," Vivienne went on, talking fast. "She disappeared. She's been doing well, really well. She went into rehab this summer then back to school. She went out for pizza with her friends then she went to the bathroom and never came back. I did a tracking spell and it ended at that restaurant but a portal was opened to the demon home world. Please." She twisted her hands in her skirt. "You're the only person I know who might be able to help."

Finally, he sighed, pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped the shaving cream from his face.

"If, IF, mind you, I agree to help you, there are three things you need to consider. One... I didn't come because I was compelled to, I came because I wanted to. Two, don't ever summon anyone else. Someone could tear you apart." He reached out with a toe. There was a brief crackle of energy as he smudged the circle and stepped though.

Vivienne stepped back in alarm but he was already circling her, so close she could feel the heat from his body and his breath on her neck. "Lucky for you that isn't what I want."

When his fingertips grazed her bare upper arm, she jumped but they were gone so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. "We're going to be working very closely on this." His breath warmed her ear. "Very closely."

He circled to stand in front of her. He was smiling slightly. "And third, witch, when this is over, you will owe me, big time. When I name my price, I expect you to comply without hesitation."

She swallowed. "What price?"

His eyes held hers. "I haven't decided yet. Do you accept?"

All the stories about making pacts with demons came flooding back and she gulped. Tasha was all she had and she had been responsible for her ever since their parents were killed. For her sister, she would do anything. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Good." He grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards the circle, "then let's go."

"But . . . I have to come with you?" she squeaked. Images of pools of hellfire and smoking brimstone filled her head.

He stopped and looked at her. "You expected me to take care of it all on my own?"

"Well, yes."

He shook his head. "I need you there as her family to handle the authorities."

"Authorities?"

He sighed. "We're demons, not uncivilized. We have our police too." He tugged her toward the circle again.

"Wait, but, I need to . . . to change my clothes, let people know I'm going somewhere," she protested.

He grinned at her. "We'll get you clothes, of course. Otherwise you'll stick out . . . like a full-blooded human."

"Oh." She hadn't thought of that.

Before she could form a coherent thought, let alone protest again, he had pulled her into the circle. "Come on, let's go. Better not to let people know anyway." In the circle, he pulled her around to face him then paused, looking down at her dress.

"Were you out on a date?" he asked, his voice low.

"I was going to go to the Halloween Ball," she said noncommittally. She had been going with someone but she didn't want to admit that for some reason. It felt rather like she had been cheating now that she was in the same room with him again, even though they hadn't seen each other in an entire year.

When he didn't respond, she finally looked up and met his gaze. The pain in his eyes made her breath catch.

"Alastair asked me to go, we've never, I've only . . ." Why was she even explaining? It was none of his business. She straightened her spine and glared at him.

He continued to stare into her eyes, moving closer. She was mesmerized, couldn't look away, didn't want to. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers - coaxing, teasing . . . compelling. It seemed to pull her into him. She reached up to push him away but gripped his shoulders instead and gave in to the kiss.

At last, he was the one to pull back. Instantly embarrassed, she dropped her arms. Raggedly, they both drew breath.

"Not compatible, huh?" he taunted.

She flushed. Oh,Goddess! What was she doing? He was a demon and she was a witch, a good witch!

He sighed. "Viv, you are entirely too caught up in names and labels. Just because I'm a half demon doesn't make me a bad guy. You're going to need clothes that let you move easier." He reached out and snagged a robe to put on. "Stay put and I'll send my mother in with something."

She looked around and realized they weren't in her world anymore. They were in a bedroom, a man's bedroom. His? Heavy dark furniture, sumptuous cream colored carpeting under foot, an azure bedspread. His. "How did you do that?" she demanded. She had discerned no spell. He had simply taken her back to his home.

The right side of his mouth quirked up in a smile and he walked out, letting the door shut behind him.

She folded her arms and turned in a circle, taking in the rest of the room.

There was a bathroom door, half open, and she peeked in. Probably where he was when I summoned him. Oops.

This was clearly his bedroom. There was a four poster bed with a large dresser and a chair in one corner of the room, black leather, near a fireplace. There were a few relics of childhood over the mantel, as if the room had been changed to suit him as an adult. There was a writing desk, for when he worked late? The room was genteel, sumptuous, old-fashioned.

A knock at the door startled Vivienne out of her conjecture. "Come in?"

The door opened and Jack's mother, Katya, entered, still green skinned but stony-faced and carrying a stack of folded clothes. "Jackson said you required clothing for your visit. These might fit you. We can make some adjustments, if necessary."

"Oh, thank you." Vivienne stepped forward and took the proffered bundle.

Katya did not smile this time. If anything, the corners of her mouth pulled down further. Vivienne looked at the floor, her eyes taking in the other woman's dark turquoise suede shirt and gray wool trousers, her long dark hair pulled back. She was every bit as elegant and refined as Vivienne's own mother had been, even though her skin was tinged green.

Vivienne just stood there awkwardly for a moment. She felt like she should apologize for her presence, or at least for how she had screamed the last time they had met, but no words came to mind.

"You can try them on in the bathroom if you would be more comfortable," Katya gestured to the bathroom door.

"Oh, right, okay." Vivienne turned and bustled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She quickly divested her long gown of shimmering colors, and shook out the trousers, blouse and light weight jacket. They were a bit short and a bit loose as Katya was shorter and . . . more voluptuous.

Vivienne stepped out of the bathroom in stocking feet. Katya had seated herself in the armchair and was petting a cat with long tan and brown fur, who promptly jumped down from her lap, walked over to Vivienne, took one turn around her then twined through her ankles, purring.

Katya stood and folded her arms. She glared at the cat and muttered, "Traitor." The cat looked at her, meowed plaintively, then turned with its plumy tail in the air, and walked straight through the closed door.

Katya cast an appraising eye over Vivienne. She sniffed and snapped her fingers with a flick of her wrist.

Vivienne had the sensation of fabric sliding along her limbs, elongating in places and tightening in others. They suddenly fit . . . perfectly. Her jaw dropped open.

Katya sniffed again. "I was an accomplished seamstress before I met Jackson's father."

"Thank you," Vivienne said in awe. She herself was abysmal at doing magic without a focusing agent of some kind.

Katya paused, nodded once, and said nothing but there seemed to be a less severe downturn to her lips than before. She opened the door. "Follow me."

Vivienne hurried to catch up as Katya strode down the hallway of a house similarly decorated to the bedroom, with thick wall to wall ocean colored carpeting, past a delicate side table on which stood a porcelain vase. The walls were a light apricot color and graced with paintings or the typical family pictures at tasteful intervals. It all gave the impression of moderate, comfortable, wealth.

They went down a set of carpeted stairs and Vivienne heard the giggling of a little girl. Jack came into view at the bottom, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a button down shirt tucked in beneath a brown tweed jacket. He was carrying a little girl with dark ringlets, wearing a lacy light blue nightgown and carrying a wand with sparkles circling the star at the top. She grinned, with what looked like powdered sugar around her mouth.

The two looked so much alike that Vivienne paused on the stairs. Was she his? But she had to be at least three, and that would have meant she was born before Vivienne knew him. She found she was holding her breath.

"Jackson, you did not give that child another donut did you?" Katya scolded as she reached for the girl.

"Nope." The little girl giggled. "Uncle Jack gave me TWO!" She waved her wand at Vivienne, narrowly missing Katya. "Is this the princess you have to save, Uncle Jack?"

"No," he said dryly. "This is her sister."

"Oh." The little girl frowned. "You're not an ebil step sister, are you?"

Vivienne couldn't help smiling at the imperious little voice. She revised her estimate, the child had to be four. She was clearly doted on by her grandmother and Uncle Jack, and had similar bedtime stories to those that Vivienne grew up with. She didn't know what she had imagined but it wasn't this -- elegant but simple house and family life. "No. I'm just her sister."

"Oh, well, 'kay." The little girl nodded. "Then Uncle Jack can help you."

"Oh, so kind of you to give permission, Princess Sophia." Jack dropped a kiss on the dark hair, then one on his mother's cheek.

Katya reached up and kissed his cheek then rubbed the lipstick off with her thumb. "Do be careful."

"Of course, Mother."

"And it is long past your bedtime, my dear," Katya said as she took the child into the next room.

"But it's Halloween!" the little voice cried. "What about the Great Pumkin?"

Jack opened the front door then a glass door with metal scroll work and gestured for Vivienne to precede him. "While you were changing, I made a few calls and tracked down a lead. Someone may have seen Tasha at a club in town."

Vivienne's head whipped around as she stepped past Jack onto the doorstep. "What? Where? Is she okay?"

Jack took her elbow and guided her down a gracefully curved set of stone stairs cut into a steep yard. The stairs were lined with shoulder height lamps that flickered slightly as if with firelight inside. They looked like some kind of solar cells on top.

He didn't say anything as they descended. At the bottom of the steps, he just turned her along a stone retaining wall to walk up a short driveway to the garage.

The door was already sliding up. Jack opened the passenger side door of a dark sedan and waited for her to get in before he closed it and rounded the back of the car to get into the driver's side. He started the car and a passive restraint system slid into place without Vivienne doing anything. The dashboard looked similar to a car in her world, but she didn't recognize the make or model.

Vivienne was very conscious of the fact that Jack had not answered her. Fear slithered up her spine as she glared at him, willing him to answer.

He glanced over at her and then looked away, putting the car in reverse. "He said she seemed fine but . . . " He paused at the end of the driveway before backing out into the street.

"But what?" Vivienne tried to make out his expression in the dim light from the dashboard and the intermittent illumination of street lamps.

He sighed. "I may have underestimated the nature of your sister's situation. She was with some unsavory people. The place is a known drug sales location."

Vivienne sat back, trying to make the information not mean what it probably did, that Tasha had relapsed.

"I'm sorry, Viv."

She nodded in the dark.

"We'll find her and we'll get her home." He reached out and put his hand over hers.

The old connection flared to life and she basked in the warmth it brought her. "Thank you," she whispered. She had been so stupid pushing him away without listening -- doing what she always did, reacting in fear.

Vivienne stared out at the streets as they passed. Flickering lamps lit the dark street, leaving shadows in abundance but she could still tell the lawns were carefully manicured in front of small but elegant houses.

Jack pulled his hand back as they entered city streets, dark office buildings giving way to garishly lit bars and late night businesses.

The front of the building was a version of the blighted urban understatement typical in most large cities anywhere -- flat gray cement with a simple green door and a plain placard sign in black with a brown writing and a brown border -- The Denizen Club. It might have been difficult to find, if there weren't two police cars parked right outside the door with flashing lights.

Vivienne's stomach twisted with foreboding and her fists clenched.

Jack cleared his throat, "Well, it could just be a normal rousting of the regulars."

But it seemed like too much of a coincidence to Vivienne.

Jack drove past the club, pulled into a parking garage, and found a spot.

Vivienne was at once nervous and impatient to get down to the club and find out what was going on.

Jack led Vivienne back toward the club, and along the sidewalk, which was surprisingly devoid of gawkers.

As they approached the first police car, there was a man with dark red skin in a typical police uniform learning against it. He stood up and unfolded his arms. "I'm sorry, sir, but the club is closed for the evening."

"Oh, that's okay, Officer . . . " Jack squinted at the name tag in the dim light. "Tabe?"

"Jack! Whattaya doin' down here?" The voice came from the doorway of the club and Vivienne looked up as a squat little blue man in a rumpled suit ambled out of the doorway of the club and up the sidewalk towards them. "It's okay, Tabe. This is Jack, he's a P.I. You working a case?" His words came from somewhere deep inside, almost like a growl.

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byMagicaPractica© 5 comments/ 6219 views/ 12 favorites

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