Goetic Justice

He pulled away a little, her tight hold on him loosening as she released him from her grasp, and he looked up at her face. Those amber eyes glowed in the dark, reflecting what little light penetrated the curtains from outside. It would have been frightening had he not already become acquainted with her. He was accustomed to her slightly elongated face, the blending of human and animal features that had seemed so jarring at first glance, now there was an undeniable femininity and allure to her that tugged at some forgotten facet of his psyche. Her head was framed by that mane of wool or fur or whatever the hell it was, her goat-like ears and her gnarled horns protruding from it, the latter of which had left deep furrows in the wooden headboard and had punctured the stack of pillows in places.

"You must find someone of your own kind to be with, for I cannot remain here, and if I allow you to become enamored with me, then the contract will not be fulfilled. You will not be happy when we are separated."

"I don't care about that right now," he blurted. "You told me to live in the moment, right? That's what I'm doing, living in this moment. Who cares about what happens later?"

"You will care," she replied, her tone soothing as she pulled him close again and began to stroke his hair. "You will be hurt again, it is not productive. Besides, the ways of the Seirim are wild and bestial, to have me unbridled might not suit you in the way you imagine."

"Do you really have so little free will under the command of Orobas?" Ryan asked, pushing his face into the nape of her neck as she held him.

"It is of no consequence. What you wish for cannot be, and it was not part of your contract with my master. Sate yourself with these comforts, not all interactions between men and women need be carnal in nature."

It wasn't an answer that he wanted to accept, but he couldn't change things, he was just a mortal after all. He ran his fingers over her glass-smooth skin, delving them into her velvet fur wherever he found it, feeling her soft body yield beneath his digits. He tried to dispel the lust that had been rising in him, burying his face in her ruff as if to escape it, and her gentle stroking resumed as if she could sense his turmoil and wanted to distract him from it.

"Shall I use my powers to calm you? You need only ask, Ryan."

"Yeah, go ahead. Sorry about this, by the way. I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said as she took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Your emotions are no mystery to me. No matter how well mannered you are and how deeply you bury them, I sense them just the same. If anything, I have transgressed by probing your mind without your permission. Alas, it is as natural to me as any other sense, I cannot stop it any more than I can shut off my sense of taste or touch."

"No, I like it," Ryan replied. "Makes things easier. I was never good at communicating how I feel."

"Mortals repress so many of their emotions," she muttered, "it can be frustrating to so clearly sense a desire that is then ardently denied. Part of what the Seirim used to do was expose these hidden emotions, as dark or dirty as they might be, bring them to light and then indulge them until those needs were satisfied."

"And...do I have any hidden emotions that I should be aware of?"

He felt a wave of pleasant fatigue wash over him, as if he had exerted himself to the limit, a satisfied ache permeating his muscles. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move, he just wanted to relax and let his tired body melt into Nahash's welcoming embrace. She stroked his hair, pressing his face into her soft fur, his eyelids heavy as he breathed in her wonderful scent. It was like falling asleep on a cloud, he couldn't keep his eyes open. His complete loss of control might have been alarming had he not been overcome by an incredible calm. Trying to stay awake was like crawling out of a swimming pool full of molasses, like trying to fight an anesthetic, and he chuckled weakly as he felt his demonic bedmate wrap her arms around him and drag him closer.

Those yellow eyes flashed in the darkness, her head framed by twisted horns, her clawed fingers roaming across his skin. Maybe it was just his tired imagination, but as his vision went dark, he could have sworn that he heard her whispering a melody into his ear.

CHAPTER 5: GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT

Ryan stood in front of the mirror, trying to straighten his wrinkled shirt and struggling with his tie. It was the day of the job interview, and he had but a scant hour to get himself prepared. It wasn't as if he had never worn a suit before, but it was Becky who had advised him on clothing, he didn't know the first thing about dressing snappy. She had prepared his wardrobe, helped him shop for clothes, ironed his shirts. Without her, he was a mess.

He trusted his demonic allies to help him get through this, but he hadn't seen Nahash since the previous night, and he was starting to get worried. He needed instructions, like the ones that she had given him on the day that he had won the car, where to go and what to do.

He smelled sulfur, and relief washed over him as Nahash's tall figure materialized in the living room, her gnarled horns scraping the ceiling. It was funny how accustomed he was getting to seeing a giant goat-demon appear out of thin air. She made her way towards him, as distractingly naked as she always was, her wide hips rolling and her heavy breasts swaying as she sidled up behind him.

"This will not do," she muttered, "raise your arms."

He did as she asked, and her claws wrapped around his neck, Ryan flinching as he felt her warm skin brush his. She removed his tie, and then tugged his shirt over his head, walking off with it to leave him bare-chested.

"What are you doing? Nahash?"

She walked over to the kitchen, her hooves clopping against the hardwood, and she pulled out an ironing board from beside the fridge. She extended the legs and set it on the floor, Ryan watching with growing embarrassment as she retrieved the iron from its place on a shelf near the washing machine. It was as if she knew where everything was, had Orobas told her?

"Come on Nahash," Ryan mumbled, "I can do that."

"You don't know how," she replied matter-of-factly. "Come, I will show you."

He walked over to stand beside her reluctantly, watching a scene that might have been comical under different circumstances, the towering she-demon plugging in the iron and filling the water reservoir as she lay his dress shirt out on the board.

"Start with the collar," she said as she popped the collar open and slowly pressed the iron from one end to the other. "Then the cuffs. Ensure that the fabric is moist, do not linger in one place for too long or you risk burning the garment. Do you see what I'm doing?"

He nodded, and she handed the iron to him.

"Now you try, iron the second cuff. Yes, that's good, remember to make use of the steam function to ensure that the clothing is moist. Apply more pressure. Good."

His mother had always been there to iron his clothes for him when he had lived at home, and when he had moved in with Becky, she had always done it for him. Now that he was alone he would have to learn to do these things on his own. He had always thought of himself as accomplished and self-sufficient. He owned an apartment in the city, he had worked a steady job, and he had lived with his girlfriend for years. But now that she was gone, he realized how dependent he still was on other people, how he had somehow avoided learning any of these mundane chores and skills even into his mid-twenties. He couldn't cook for shit, he didn't pick up after himself, he couldn't even iron a fucking shirt without help. Far be it from just finding another job, turning his life around would involve becoming self-reliant too. He had to learn how to take care of himself.

As he ironed his shirt under Nahash's tutelage, he came to a realization. This was what he had asked for. He had asked Orobas to help him turn his life around, and that was what Nahash was doing, she was acting as his damned life coach.

"You are correct," Nahash said, not even giving him a chance to ask the question. She must have sensed the realization in him or something. "Orobas has tasked me with teaching you the skills that you lack, at least where necessary for your success."

She shot him a sympathetic glance as another wave of embarrassment washed over him.

"There is no need to feel ashamed, Ryan. There was no reason for you to learn until today. Besides, your parents share equal blame in leaving you unprepared to live alone. Truth be told, this era of human history confuses me. Your relationships are more tenuous and temporary than ever before. For thousands of years, a man of your age would have had a wife and children by now, and thus would not have needed to tackle these chores as well as performing his duties. Several generations of a family would live together under one roof, but now it seems that you seek to be rid of each other as soon as possible. I cannot claim to understand these new ways."

He glared at her, a hiss of steam pouring from the iron.

"That's not really making me feel any better."

"I meant no offense, I am merely shocked by how rapidly things change in the mortal realm. Things are so static and constant in the place that I reside."

"And where is that?" Ryan asked, flipping the shirt over to iron the other side.

"You would call it Hell, but that word carries so many negative connotations in your culture. It is not a realm of eternal fire and punishment as you imagine it, but the abode of earthly spirits, the domain of those who have not aspired to lofty ideals or holy works."

"Doesn't sound so bad, I'm not exactly a Saint myself."

"It might be unimaginable to a mortal, it is a realm of raw emotion, possessing no material qualities whatsoever. There are no laws of physics, no up or down, merely oceans of sensation and currents of feeling that ebb and flow. Swirling patterns of pure thought, spirits mingling like shoals of fish. It is at once overwhelming and beautiful."

"Do you miss it? When you're here, I mean."

"No. I have dwelled there for eons. Taking a corporeal form and experiencing only my own emotions, my own thoughts...that is a rare reprieve from the relative chaos of home."

She was probably oversimplifying it for his benefit, and so he didn't pry, instead lifting his newly ironed shirt and pulling it over his head. It was warm, and all of the creases had been ironed out of it. He might actually pass for someone who had his shit together now.

He wrapped his tie around his neck and fumbled with it, his face burning as Nahash stepped forward and took charge, deftly tying a perfect Windsor knot as he averted his eyes from the massive bust that was practically hitting him in the face.

"How the hell do you even know how to do that?" he grumbled, "do demons wear ties when then go to work in Hell?"

"My master provides me with the information that I need as it becomes necessary."

"So you're like Neo from the Matrix? Tank, I need a program for ironing shirts!"

He chuckled to himself, but she obviously didn't get the reference, stepping back to look him up and down.

"It will do. You must depart twenty minutes earlier than you had intended, there will be traffic on the road that will delay you."

"Thanks, Nahash, for...y'know. Everything."

"I merely perform my duties as they are assigned," she replied, brushing his sleeve with the back of her hand to dislodge some errant fluff.

"Uh-huh, is there anything else that I need to know? Any instructions that you can give me, like when I went to the mall and you had that big lost of do's and don'ts?"

"No, my master will be using different skills to aid you today, it is better that you remain ignorant until it becomes necessary for you to know more."

He nodded, buttoning his cuffs.

"Anything else I need to do before I leave?"

"Yes, you will need your strength if you are to remain alert and focused, and you have not yet eaten today. What were you planning on doing, going hungry?"

"I figured I'd get a bowl of cereal before I headed out."

"Sit, I will cook for you. And when we have the time, I must teach you how."

"You're making me breakfast?" Ryan asked, watching her walk over to the stove. "I can handle some fried eggs you know, I'm not that helpless."

"My master informs me that in the event that you attempt to cook, you will splash bacon grease on your only dress shirt. Sit at the table and allow me."

He pulled up a chair and leaned on the table as he watched her, her back turned to him as she worked over the stovetop, breaking eggs and frying bacon with the speed and skill of a professional chef. The smell of it filled the room, Ryan's mouth beginning to water, and not just because of the alluring scent. Her rear was like a giant peach, that groove in her spine starting between her shoulders and running all the way down the smooth curve of her back, ending between the two dimples above her round cheeks. Her waist was a perfect hourglass, thick thighs supporting her massive body, her long legs tapering into those oddly dainty hooves.

The more he looked at her, the more attractive she became, and he had to shake his head in an attempt to dispel his arousal. She could sense it after all, although he wasn't sure if she had to concentrate or whether it came easily to her. Perhaps she wouldn't notice his peeping if she was occupied with another task.

She returned to the table before long, placing a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausages in front of him. Where had she even found the sausages? Perhaps Becky had bought some before she had left and Orobas had told Nahash where to find them.

"Protein and fats. Eat, it will give you strength."

"If you say so," he muttered, picking up his cutlery and forking a piece of fried egg into his mouth. He chewed cautiously, then his face lit up, and he hurriedly took another bite.

"This is great," he mumbled through a mouthful of sausage. "Where the hell did you learn to cook this good?"

"I asked my master to use his powers of prescience to tell me what kind of food you would like, and I used whatever ingredients and seasonings were available."

"I've never eaten eggs this good," he exclaimed, breaking open one of the fried eggs and watching the yellow yolk ooze around his knife.

"Sunny side up," she replied, a rare expression of humor.

"I guess Orobas really does know everything."

"I am glad that you are enjoying the meal."

"Cooking is a skill you know," Ryan added as he bit into a bacon strip, noting that it was cooked to perfection. Not too soft, not too crunchy. "This can't be your first time cooking, there's no way. Did you guys throw banquets as part of your revelry or something?"

"We did," she replied as she watched him eat, her expression hard to read. Was she proud? Content? He couldn't tell. "One thing that hasn't changed much in five thousand years is cooking. I find that fact somehow...comforting."

"So what did you guys eat back in the day?" he asked as he cut a slice of sausage, "I suppose you roasted whole pigs over fires? Or was it all magical, did you conjure wine from thin air?"

"Some of it was real, and some of it was illusory. We might have been able to spear a boar in the forest and roast it over the bonfire, but wines and spirits were harder to obtain. We had no vineyards of our own, we could not distill them, and so we stole them or took them as offerings where we could. Turning water into wine was a popular trick, using our powers to influence the senses and emotions so that a goblet of water tasted like the sweetest ambrosia."

"You can do that?" he asked, pausing his chewing. "Show me!"

"I...should not," she replied hesitantly, "it is not permitted."

"Says who? Come on, what harm can it do?"

"I have pledged to only perform the functions that my master has assigned to me," she replied, looking uncomfortable as she stood beside the table.

"It's not real alcohol after all," Ryan insisted. "I want to taste your interpretation of fine wine."

She considered for a moment, then walked over to the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water. She brought it back to the table and placed it in front of him, and he lifted it to take a sip.

"Yep, that's tap water alright. So what happens now, do I need to do anything?"

He felt a sudden warmth come over him, as if he had been wrapped in a blanket, penetrating deep into his bones. He glanced at Nahash and her yellow eyes locked with his, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He felt drowsy again, not dissimilar from when she used her abilities to relax him, and he watched her gesture to the glass of water with her clawed finger. He picked it up, feeling as if some fog had fallen over his mind, his thoughts were coming slow and muddled.

"Drink," she breathed in that low, husky voice. She was standing a few feet away, and yet he could feel her breath on his skin, hear her musical tones as if her lips were an inch from his ear. He raised the glass to his mouth and took a draw.

There was an explosion of flavor on his tongue as if all of the fruits and berries of the world had been concentrated into that one mouthful, it was the most delicious thing that he had ever tasted. It was sweet and tangy like fruit punch, and yet dry like wine, it warmed him in the way that a shot of a strong liqueur would have. It was like drinking a rainbow, he could almost see the colors of the flavors in his mind's eye, his senses melding and becoming hard to distinguish as the chilled liquid slipped down his throat.

He snapped out of his trance-like state, coming to and staring at the glass of water in his hand, then he started to laugh.

"Well god damn, ambrosia indeed."

She seemed pleased with herself, her hands planted on her wide hips as she watched him with a wry smile. Every time that he convinced her to do something like this, he saw a little glimpse of her true personality beneath the surface, a glimmer of the person that she had once been and could be again. Orobas had her so restrained, so fearful of engaging in her natural behavior, but Ryan was formulating a plan that might change that.

"You should go soon," she said, "you have but a quarter hour."

He nodded, finishing off his breakfast and then heading towards the door to fetch his jacket from the coat rack. He began to walk back towards Nahash as he buttoned up, then stopped himself, his face reddening. Every day before he left for work he would kiss Becky goodbye, and he had been about to perform the same routine with Nahash. It was a reflex, he hadn't even thought about it. She cocked her head at him, and he tried to mask his embarrassment, waving to her instead.

"Thanks for breakfast Nahash, I'll see you later. Wish me luck!"

"You don't need luck," she replied, "you have magick."

***

Ryan pulled up to the office building, turning off his engine and waiting in the driver's seat for a few moments longer, his fingers gripping the wheel as he steeled himself. This was it, the big interview. If he landed this job, then his financial worries would be over. He had help from his demon cohorts, but it was a good idea to play it safe regardless, to treat this interview as any other and do his best to make a good first impression. His qualifications were all there, what had lost him his last position was his emotional turmoil as Nahash would describe it. As long as he stayed confident, maintained eye contact and gave a firm handshake, then he should be fine.

He stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him, straightening his jacket as he made his way to the lobby. He pushed on the glass door, then realized that the sign said pull, opening it and walking up to the front desk as he tried not to look as nervous as he was feeling. He was greeted by a secretary, a young woman with her dark hair tied back in a tight bob, wearing a pair of angular spectacles as she looked up from her computer monitor to greet him.