Goetic Justice

She was right of course, he was a fucking mess, had been for weeks. He wasn't sleeping, he had purple rings under his eyes and his face was covered in unshaven stubble, he hadn't ironed a shirt in a month. If he was going to find a job, then he needed to get his shit together, and maybe she could help him to do that. That was why Orobas had sent her after all, the guy knew what he was doing, and he hadn't been wrong yet.

Still, the idea of allowing her to manipulate him like that bothered him. His thoughts and emotions were his alone, she had no business invading his privacy like that. What else could she see and feel? He looked over the kitchen counter, across the open-plan apartment at her as she waited on the couch, her oddly dissonant combination of womanly and animal features drawing his gaze. Those comely hips, her soft thighs, those pert breasts that would have put any mortal woman to shame...

Could she sense his confused attraction to her? Read his intrusive thoughts as he tried to suppress them? He didn't dare to ask her.

"Expand your search for a job today," she called over to him from her seat on the couch. "My master will tell me what you decide, and if you desire it, I shall return tonight."

With that she was gone, the stink of sulfur masking her pleasant, earthy scent.

CHAPTER 4: SWEET DREAMS

Ryan had finally found something, a job interview for a good position in his field that paid well and was in range of his soon-to-be new car. He scheduled an interview by email, then slumped over his keyboard, exhausted and relieved. He had a car, he had a job interview, now he just needed to nail the face-to-face, and he might actually be able to climb out of this hole.

He checked the clock on his taskbar, it was two in the morning, he needed to get some sleep. He rubbed his itchy eyes and yawned widely, the room lit only by the pale glow of his computer monitor, and stood up from his office chair to stretch. He was kind of hungry too, he had been job searching for hours, might be a good idea to get a bowl of cereal before turning in.

He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge door, crouching to retrieve the milk as it cast him in its yellow light, then fetched a bowl from the sink and a box of frosted flakes from the cupboard. He flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table and poured his meal, the cereal crunching loudly in the silent apartment as he chewed, alone in the gloom.

This bachelor lifestyle didn't suit him. He had moved here to be with Becky, and now that she was gone, the apartment was as silent and as lifeless as a grave. With nobody around to impress, he was no longer taking care of himself. He was a lousy cook, and without Becky to feed him, he was eating like shit. He had stopped exercising too, and his previously flush belly was starting to bulge over his belt line a little. He rested his face in his hand as he wolfed down the tasteless cereal, realizing that it was a little stale, but not caring enough to make himself a proper meal.

Maybe Nahash was right about his emotional turmoil, maybe he was depressed or something, and he just didn't know it. This didn't feel like something that well-adjusted people did, eating stale cereal on his own in the dark at two AM. His mind wandered away from thoughts of good meals and warm beds, back to what the familiar had shown him, her superhuman ability to lull him into a calm and untroubled sleep.

It had taken him by surprise, which was part of the reason that he had reacted so badly to it, and he still didn't know how to feel about the idea that she could manipulate his emotional state and project illusions into his mind. What was a man, if not the culmination of his mental processes? The chemistry of his brain, the integrity of his thoughts, the decisions that defined him. When you subverted that, what did you make of him? Some kind of meat puppet with no free will of his own?

So many philosophical and theological questions had been raised by this whole venture that Ryan had just stopped thinking about them as Nahash had advised, it was better to just live his life and worry about the details when he had an eternity to mull them over.

Should he call her back again? The prospect of a good night's rest was appealing, but the thought of letting someone hypnotize him made his skin crawl. Still, he was starting to trust the familiar and her demonic master. Their plan was bearing fruit already, and they had not taken advantage of any opportunities that would have allowed them to screw him over. At least not so far.

What the heck, he'd at least give it a try. If he didn't like it, then he could always forbid Nahash from doing it again. How should he contact her though, would Orobas just know because of his decision-based future-seeing powers?

As if to answer his question, the signature cold fell over the room, all the more noticeable as it was already a cool autumn night. Nahash appeared in her usual spot near the summoning circle, emerging from the swirling vapors as he plugged his nose against the smell and waited for it to dissipate.

She walked over to him, her cloven footsteps loud and heavy on the wood floor, wide hips rolling as she approached the table. Her nakedness was no less distracting in the dark, her pale skin and white fur seemed to glow in the cold moonlight that flowed through the blinds, the deep shadows only serving to accentuate her comely figure.

"You have decided," she announced in that husky, musical voice.

"I'll give it a try, but if I don't like it, will you stop?"

"I will."

"Okay then, that's good. So...how do we..?"

"Come to the bedroom, if it pleases you."

His heart skipped, he had assumed that they would sit on the couch again, but he guessed that it made sense to sleep in a bed. She seemed to sense his apprehension, and perhaps the twinge of arousal that shadowed it, her voice low and soft as she reassured him.

"Fear not, I do not seek to entrap you, only to help ease your sleep."

He hesitated for a moment, staring into his mostly eaten bowl of cereal, and then rose to his feet with fresh determination.

"Alright, let's do it. Follow me."

He walked across the apartment as she followed behind him, her odd gait slow so as not to outpace him on her longer legs, and they stopped before the bedroom door. The apartment was open plan, for the most part. The only rooms that were sectioned off were the bathroom and the bedroom, for obvious reasons. Ryan opened the door with a creak and was immediately hit with a wall of cold air, cursing to himself as he realized that one of the windows had blown open. He hurried over and closed it, checking that it was secure this time, then he shut the curtains against the surprisingly bright moonlight. Great, now it was freezing in here.

"Sorry, looks like the wind blew it open," he grumbled as he crossed his arms and shivered. Even the hardwood was cold enough that he could feel it through his socks. "Lemme go bump up the thermostat, and we can give it a few minutes."

"It's fine," she replied, surveying the bedroom with her amber eyes. They seemed to glow in the low light almost like those of a cat, or perhaps she was producing that glow herself. Ryan's face reddened. He was a little embarrassed by the state of the room. There was dirty laundry piled on the floor, the bed hadn't been made, and the sheets and pillows were strewn all over the place. Becky had been the clean one, she had done the laundry and made the beds while he was at work, it just wasn't part of his routine.

"Aren't you cold?" Ryan asked her.

"Cold is ideal, and if it pleases you, I would like to open the curtains. The moon is full tonight, and its light soothes me."

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, pulling them open and letting the moonlight flood in. Who knew, maybe the moon gave her power, creatures of the night and all that. She walked over to the bed, but Ryan held out a hand to stop her, hurriedly trying to straighten the blankets.

"Hang on, I gotta make the bed, it's a rat's nest."

"If that is how you prefer to sleep, then leave it."

"Well...I like my bed a little messy, but Becky-, I mean my ex-girlfriend always wanted everything clean and straightened out."

"This all reminds you of her," Nahash said, and Ryan paused to look up at her. "You lived here together for a long time, she has left her mark on this place. You cannot turn your head in this house without those memories surfacing."

"Yeah, I guess so, but it's not like I can move. I mean, maybe I could have, but I didn't ask for that in the contract. Gotta say, my first summoning was kind of poorly thought out, I could have asked for a lot more than I did."

"This is your home, Ryan, you should not have to leave. Old memories will linger, they refuse to be forgotten, but the best way to overcome a painful memory is to replace it with a happy one. You see this as the center of your relationship with her, you made love together here, you slept in each other's arms. That will always be its significance unless you move on and make new memories, give this bed a new significance."

"How do I do that?"

"I sense that you want to replace your lost love, but that can never be. You cannot regain what was lost, but you can find something new. If you should search for another partner, then you must stop clinging to what was and open yourself to what will be, new people and new experiences."

"That's easy to say, not so easy to put into practice," he grumbled as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"We can start right now. What is more significant, which memory will stand out in your mind? Sharing this bed with your scorned lover, or sharing it with a demon?"

"I guess that's true," he replied, his mood lightening somewhat. "Alright then, let's make this the demon bed."

He unbuckled his belt and slid his pants off, tugging off his socks and quickly sliding beneath the sheets to escape the frigid air. He watched Nahash from under the heavy blanket as she examined the bed, perhaps it was different to what she was used to, and then she followed suit. She lifted the blanket with her clawed hand and then sat on the mattress, Ryan expecting it to sag under her weight, but again it did not. She swung one of her long, goat-like legs up onto the bed, and then the second. Before long, she was shuffling into place beside him. She had been so graceful on her feet, but she was unaccustomed to the piles of sheets, wriggling clumsily in an effort to get comfortable. Seeing her in such a mundane situation eased his tension, made her feel somehow more human and relatable.

The bed was a twin, and yet there was scarcely enough room for both of them. Her wide hips and thick thighs were pressing against his bare legs, and her exaggerated bosom was tenting the blanket, exposing him to the cold air. He tugged a little more of the blanket over to his side and shifted a little as he sealed the gap, the contrast of her smooth skin and downy wool creating a strange sensation.

Again he was surprised by how warm she was, their combined body heat was already warming the bed, and he felt her hook an arm around his shoulders as she pulled him close to her.

There was that smell again, like wet grass the morning after a rainstorm. His brain had already associated her scent with the overwhelming feeling of calm and relaxation, he was starting to become drowsy, and she hadn't even worked her magic yet.

He didn't have anywhere to put his hands, her body was so voluptuous, and he didn't know how she would respond should he touch her thigh or her breast. Just what the hell kind of relationship did they have here, anyway? She was apparently a woman, he was a man, she was nude and sharing a bed with him. Was sexual contact permitted? Did demons have sex? Did he even want that from her, goat-headed she-demon that she was? It was all so confusing.

"Relax," she whispered, her warm breath blowing his hair. "Do not think, lie still and stop fretting." Her voice was so husky, a deep contralto that resonated in his bones with an oddly synthesized quality that reminded him of a vocal track from a 1980s synth-pop song.

He tried to do as she asked, letting his face sink into that feathery ruff around her neck and chest, softer than any pillow that he could imagine. His thoughts were troubled, however, his heart beating faster as he peered down into her cleavage. The heavy sheets barely served to cover her.

"Nahash," he muttered, unable to contain himself any longer. "I gotta know...what is this, exactly? What should I-"

He felt her palm cradle his cheek, pressing his face into the nape of her neck, her skin smooth and warm. Her other hand found his and guided it around her waist, easing him into a hug and letting his fingers sink into her doughy flesh. His face reddened, feeling the pliant fat of her midriff beneath his digits, the subtle paunch of her belly and hips begging him to probe deeper. He would scarcely have been able to wrap both arms around her such was her girth, she was downright Rubenesque, her weight distributed to all of the right places. It didn't help that she had a good foot or more on him, and her proportions were massive, not at all lanky as would befit a human of her height. It had been distracting to look at, but to have her hourglass hips and her heavy breasts pressing up against him was maddening. He resisted his urges, and they lay wrapped in each other's arms, the slow beating of her massive heart and her rhythmic breathing somehow hypnotic.

"Touch me as you would a partner," she said softly, and his breath caught in his throat. "I sense that you need this comfort, but try to sleep."

They could spoon then, that's what she was saying. Touching was alright, but the goal here was to help him rest. Admittedly it was almost a struggle to stay conscious as he lay beneath the sheets with her, she was like a living body pillow that could hug back, warm and soft in all the right ways. He rubbed his cheek against the downy wool, it was deep enough that he could almost bury his face in it completely, and he squeezed himself closer to her. She responded in kind, her hold on him tightening, and he shivered as he felt her run her fingers through his hair. She stroked him like a cat, something that Becky had never done, and he melted into her inviting body as her claws tickled his scalp.

"That's...nice," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the forest of fur. Her other arm was looped around his shoulders, her hand supporting his lower back as she pressed him close, the frigid air outside the sanctuary of the bed now all but forgotten.

Skin on skin contact, the warmth of another person, the sounds and sensations of a body lying next to his. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this, how much he had needed it. He had locked himself away in his apartment for weeks, and he had been starving himself of a nutrient that he hadn't even known that his body required.

He balked as he realized that she hadn't even put the magickal moves on him yet, this was all natural, something that any other human could have provided. Well, a human of unrealistic proportions wearing a fur coat, perhaps.

Damn, the stroking was intoxicating, why the hell was his scalp so sensitive?

"So is this just...what you do?" Ryan asked her, mumbling and barely awake.

"Mortals have long sought the company of my kind, the Seirim possess qualities and abilities that soothe and excite your people. Why that is I cannot say."

Ryan had some guesses, but he held his tongue. He wanted this to last forever, and he realized that he didn't miss Becky, not really. He missed what she did for him. At least for the time being, this Seirim as she referred to herself, could do a hell of a lot more.

"In ages long past, we wandered the ancient deserts and forests of the world. Mortals would leave offerings and sacrifices to us. We were spirits of the wild, embodiments of nature's mystery and its forbidden passions. The music and revelry of the Seirim would ring out across the plains, our bonfires visible for miles around, and for a time we were the gods of simple folk. As mortals turned to greater deities and forgot the lesser spirits of the wilderness, we lost our power, and we faded from memory."

"Not to be rude, but...I can't really imagine you dancing around a bonfire, Nahash. You're so restrained and to the point."

Although he had to admit, seeing her dance would be quite something. That massive, feminine body gyrating and prancing beneath a pale moon, or illuminated by the flickering glow of a fire. He could scarcely picture it, how would a creature of her size and gait dance?

"I am bound to my master," she said, sounding somewhat wistful. "I am but a lesser spirit, without worshipers our power wanes and we must enter into the service of a greater entity or risk fading into nothing."

"So worshipers really are like a battery for you guys, huh?"

"Belief and faith, these are our food and our water, we only exist as long as someone worships us. Orobas took me and a few of my brethren into his legions, he grants us a share of his energy, and in exchange we serve him. The rest of us are scattered between different demons. I carry out the instructions of my master, no more and no less, my days of revelry are long past."

"That's sad," Ryan mumbled, "is this at least a kind of vacation for you?"

"In a way, I suppose that it is. Taking form and walking the Earth again reminds me of the old times, the moonlight on my skin, the warmth of a man..."

That got his attention, and she must have sensed the change in his emotional state. She had just let slip a lot more than she had intended, perhaps beyond the scope of her task here, and she quickly changed the subject.

"Are you ready to sleep yet? I can use my power to calm your mind," she whispered, halting her rhythmic stroking for a moment. "You need only ask."

"You're doing a pretty good job without it," he chuckled, pushing his face into the nape of her neck and breathing in her earthy scent. "Can we just...stay like this a while longer?"

"As you wish."

She resumed her stroking, and he felt an involuntary tremor pass through him. It felt so good that it made his limbs turn to mush. His eyelids were growing heavy, and a yawn forced his jaw wide open, Ryan breathing in the scent of her delicate fur as its strands tickled his skin. He allowed himself the liberty of draping his arm over Nahash's soft belly, shuffling closer to her.

She wrapped the blankets more tightly around them like a cocoon, lying on her side, those mammoth breasts pressing together under their own considerable weight. She drew his face into her bust, her hand still on the back of his head, her chin resting in his hair as her burnished skin rubbed against his reddening cheeks.

"So...you can sing?" he asked, and he heard her massive heart quicken. Did the prospect excite her, perhaps?

"Not for millennia, but yes, I can."

"Will you sing for me?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to hear it, and it would help me get to sleep."

"I can lull you into a deep and untroubled sleep at your request," she replied, "singing is not necessary for that."

"Well, I'd like to hear it."

She seemed hesitant, afraid of doing more than her role required perhaps. Would taking such liberties with her charge anger Orobas in some way? Then again, he must have foreseen everything. That was his job, after all, he wouldn't have sent her if this wasn't what he had intended to happen.

"I suppose it would be acceptable, if you wish it. What manner of song would you like to hear?"

"I don't know," he said, "something calming."

He waited, unsure of whether or not she would actually begin to sing, but before long he heard a low and musical tone rising in her throat. It would have been inaudible had her lips not been but an inch from his ear, an ancient hymn in a language that might not have been heard by mortals in thousands of years, a melodic chant with a timbre and rhythm that betrayed its immense age. It was like nothing he had heard before, and he listened in silence, captivated by the somehow mournful singing.