Lost Bloodlines Ch. 10

His partner jerked to her feet almost immediately upon noticing us, and her tail lashed the incubus on his outstretched leg. "Get up, ya chop. It's her."

The incubus gave her a deeply blank look for about ten seconds before understanding seemed to appear on his face. He slapped the ass of the demon in his lap, "Up you go, daddy's gonna be busy now." The imp hopped up and scampered away without sparing me a glance, her erstwhile seat lazily bringing himself to his feet.

"Lilith," Paimon began to speak, "I imagined you would want to meet these two in person. This is..."

"Saleos," the incubus proclaimed, "Duke of Hell, master of the Eighteenth Legion, bane of cucks and taker of virginities, the great...!"

"God, you're a complete embarrassment," the dragon-demon huffed, cutting off what would have surely been a grand list of titles. She turned to me in exasperation. "I'm Tiaan, and this idiot is Paul." The legionary behind her hissed disapprovingly, and the demoness rolled her eyes, correcting herself in a flat tone as she gave the most awkward curtsy I had ever seen. "Sorry. I'm Duchess Buné, Lady of the Twentieth."

Though their behavior had been initially perplexing, her outburst tipped me off on who these two really were. They were Turned, just like me, probably the only other people in this room who could actually understand something of what I had been going through. I stepped up immediately, pointing a commanding finger at the two lurking legionaries. "You two, I need some privacy with my children. Leave us."

The demons looked at each other uncertainly, "But...Lady Lilith, we..."

"Now."

At the steel in my tone, the demons were cowed, marching off to lurk in the corner until I was finished with these two.

"Okay, you can cut the shit. It's all just us humans here now," I said. Tiaan lifted an eyebrow, indicating to the silent Paimon at my side. "Other than him, but he's not like the others. And please, sit back down. No need to stand on my account."

The dragoness looked skeptically at me for a second and then shrugged, taking her seat once more. Her partner threw himself back down without a word and picked up the clump of grapes that the imp had dropped. "So, they weren't messing with us. The new boss is really one of us, huh?"

"New boss, pfff," Paul, the great taker of virginities, scoffed. "How's anyone gonna take her seriously with tits like that?" He accompanied the dismissal with a thorough examination of said tits. I was beginning to understand Tiaan's exasperation with the man.

"Yeah, I'm definitely not that," I responded, crossing my arms over my chest. "Just doing my best to survive this demonic bullshit. I go by Lilith now, though I used to be Charles."

"Oh ho," the incubus chuckled, giving Tiaan a sideways look, "Looks like you've got another freak in common with you. Good. You can bitch to him instead of me now."

I turned to the glaring dragoness with a questioning look on my face. Did he mean...

She just sighed. "Yeah, looks like we both got fucked by the magic. The name might make it hard to tell, but I was a man too. Born and raised just outside Johannesburg."

Then she could understand me in more ways than one, then. Oh, wait. "So, how would you like to be addressed? I know things can get pretty complicated mentally for transformations like ours."

Tiaan just seemed resigned, looking up at me with tired eyes. "You mean pronouns? Feminine is fine, might as well get used to it. Doesn't look like I've got much choice in the matter. Just like everything else in the god-forsaken place."

I leaned down, placing a hand on hers where it was clenched on the table. I knew that pain all too well, and while I couldn't take it away, at least I understood it. "There's always a choice," I squeezed her hand and offered her a supportive smile. Though the dismal look on her draconic features didn't shift, she at least took a deep breath and nodded.

"Don't know what you two are so moody about," Paul tossed out casually, breaking the moment. "Being a chick must suck, but this place is awesome! Sweet uniforms, magical powers, and best of all, all of the horny babes you could want. You can get in on that hot lesbian action."

"We're not all so cheery about being yanked from our families and forced into Hell, you ass." Tiaan spat. "And even when I had one, at least I didn't just think with my dick all the time."

The Turned incubus just smirked and popped another grape into his mouth.

Probably best to switch this topic before either Tiaan or myself are forced to resort to violence with the pig. With a sympathetic look, I released her hand and stepped back. "Have you two been with the other Turned since you got here? I haven't seen any of them yet, but I know they're being hosted by different Legions."

"Nope," Paul said. "They've got us holed up at the top of the Eighteenth Legion's tower. My tower, now. Belial said that one day, I'll get to rule the whole thing. That was probably the plan for gloomy here too, but all her kids are dead or something, so she got put with me."

"To my extreme disappointment," Tiaan completed. "When they aren't trying to brainwash us with all of this demonic legacy shit, they've mostly been forcing us to train. Magic, combat, stuff like that."

"Speak for yourself. My 'training' has been nothing but screwing demon chicks all day. Belial set me up with a dozen of them in my rooms, and they are very enthusiastic that their daddy has returned." The repeated mention of Consul Belial did not escape my notice. It seemed like he had taken a special interest in Paul since he had arrived.

"You know that's incest, right?"

"Eh. Only technically."

"And how, exactly," I bit out before the two starting going at it again, "does having too much sex count as training?"

"My wicked Jedi mind powers," Paul responded with a wide grin. "I can make chicks do whatever I tell them to. I've gotten fucking good at it too, watch." As he stared at me, the crimson ring of his pupils flared, and the back of my neck tingled as I felt magic stir. "Pinch your nipples for me." He commanded.

I could physically feel the compulsion seek me out, a wiggling suggestion that was trying to worm its way into my head. My hands unconsciously twitched, lifting slightly, but through the magical compulsion, I could feel the will and the power behind Paul's words. They were absolutely pathetic.

"You pinch your fucking nipples, prick," I shot back, enforcing my own seduction aura around the tepid connection. Unlike the slow, creeping sensation of Paul's compulsion, my reply was instantaneous and ironclad. With glazed eyes, the last of his goddamn grapes fell from his fingers, and he immediately pinched his chest through the white toga he had on.

"Yes, Mistress," he whined as he just went to town on himself, his body squirming in place in response to my command.

Tiaan stared in shock between the two of us before an incredulous giggle escaped her snout. "Oh, that's too good," she exclaimed, the corners of her mouth crinkling. "You have no idea how obnoxious and creepy he's been with that." Her moment of levity ended quickly, though. "Try not to break his brain. As annoying as he might be, he's kinda all I've got right now."

Despite my pleasure at the poetic justice of the moment, Tiaan's request was earnest, so I dropped the aura. Paul immediately yelped in pain as he released his nipples, looking suitably embarrassed by my easy display of magical dominance.

"To tell the truth, I am somewhat jealous of the idiot," Tiaan continued. She lifted a scaled hand, and a shudder went down my spine as a dark glow pulsed around her fingers. "I'd take anything instead of this curse they call magic. They've got me raising rotted corpses and skeletons like some kinda necromancer. It's completely fucked."

As the darklight danced around the dragoness's fingers, my mind forced me back to that moment in the camp barracks, my body dragged down by cloying bands of darkness and the overwhelming stench of death emanating from the black-robed magus. My hands clenched unwittingly, and I could feel the dark flame of hellfire began to spark in my palms. My sudden reverie was broken by the gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder, and I offered Paimon a strained smile of thanks for his intervention.

"I wouldn't want to be in your position," I said, shaking my head. "But now that I know you're here, maybe I can get you two a bit more freedom. At least to make the stay a bit more bearable. I do have some amount of sway with the leadership, apparently. And I'll make sure to stop by in the future, if you'd like."

"I might be the only one to take you up one that," Tiaan said, casting another glare towards her recovering companion, "But I appreciate it. And it'd be nice to see another human, well, previously human face once in a while."

"Good," I smiled. "If there's anything you need, ask the legate at the Eighteenth to send a message to Lilith, here at the Villa."

"Thanks," she replied. "It was nice to meet you." When Paul said nothing and just continued to pout, she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow, fuck. Yeah, it was good of you to drop by. I guess we'll see you around then."

"Indeed. In the meantime, Paul," I leaned forward, "Behave. I don't want to hear about you mistreating any of those girls of yours. If you do, I'll make you do far worse than give your nipples a vigorous rub." The incubus's face scrunched up petulantly, but he nodded with a huff.

I stepped back from the table, giving a final nod of acknowledgment to the two Turned demons before leaving. My ever-present shadow, Paimon, fell back into step with me. Though I was growing used to his silent, guarding presence, I had had enough socialization for one day, and now all I wanted to do was pass out in my girlfriend's arms. Maybe get a back rub. Yeah, that'd be nice. I've earned that.

"Okay, Paimon, I don't care who else is on your list, or whether it'll hurt the feelings of a bunch of millennia-old demons, but I am done." I grumbled, heading towards the double doors.

"Mother, I understand that this must be quite a lot to handle, but at least stay another..."

"Lilith! Oh, I'm so glad I caught you in time," a familiar voice rang out behind me. I grit my teeth and forced yet another cordial smile on my face, turning to face the new obstruction to my escape. Duchess Berith, wearing a slinky cocktail dress that clung to her body like a second skin, rushed up to me with a fervent gleam in her eye. "I need to speak with you about something before you leave."

"Berith," I said neutrally. "I was wondering if I'd run into you at this thing." Despite my powerful desire to be anywhere but here, it wasn't necessarily Berith's presence that was the culprit. As both my first real introduction to Hell and my apparently expansive family, I actually didn't mind her all that much. She had seemed to be upfront and honest with me when we met, if a little too enthusiastic. I could at least humor her for a few minutes.

"I did say I'd find you at the reunion," her eyes sparkled, and her clawed hand came to rest on an out-thrust hip. "And you look absolutely ravishing in your old dress. Much more flattering than those rags you had on when we first met."

I looked down at the silken fabric I had been practically forced into. It had done an admirable job of staying in place throughout the reunion, despite its apparent desire to slip off at the slightest movement. "Probably about the same amount of skin showing, though," I deadpanned in reply. The camp uniform had been practically shredded after the fight on the highway.

"Yes, but now all the right skin is showing," she bantered back with an appreciative look. And there's the flirting that I had hope to avoid.

"Sister," Paimon acknowledged, once more coming to my rescue from having to think of an appropriate reply to that. "I believe mother was just preparing to retire for the evening. Perhaps whatever you have in mind can wait for..."

"Nonsense," Berith brushed off his deflection, stepping forward to place her hand on my upper shoulder with a smile. "Lilith walks amongst her children once more. She must celebrate with us!"

I eyed her warily, my skin prickling under her touch. "I've, ah, enjoyed spending time here with all of you, but it's been a taxing experience. What more did you want from me?"

The demoness's smile broadened in response, and she leaned in close. "So much more," she breathed. I was prepared to step away from the intimate distance, but she pulled back as quickly. "But I will settle with a short chat. There are some things you need to be made aware of."

"Like what?"

"Of who your true followers are," Berith hooked her arm into mine, steering me to look in the direction of a group of demons near a side door. They numbered about ten and were a mix of male and female. I couldn't recognize many of them, though it was hard to miss the jiggling of Asmodea's bare breasts as she laughed at something another said. "It's time you met the members of the Vexillarii."

-00000-

As quickly as she fell, Victoria's survival instincts took over, and rather than land face-first on the street, the rim of a golden shield hammered into the pavement. Within the blink of an eye, the abortive Glamour transformation had ceased, and her muscular form was locked in banded plates of golden armor. The rough impact caused another explosion of pain to erupt somewhere in her lower back, but the sensation was dulled and distant. Breathing hard, her hands clenched as her system was rocked with adrenaline. It didn't matter where she was, it didn't matter what hit her or who she was with. The only thing that was important in that moment was shoving her spear through something.

Using lip of the shield that had materialized in her left hand, she threw herself back to her feet, her wings unfurling behind her as she twisted to face her assailants. Subconsciously, her brain recognized the surprised faces of Sam and Aqua staring at her in shock, but the image was gone as soon as it came. As she came to face the interior of the alleyway, another deafening shot rang out, followed by the worrying sound of rending metal and another red-hot pain in her left shoulder.

She screamed wordlessly, and using the last of the momentum of her abrupt turn, flung the silver spear she had barely recognized she was holding in her right hand into the vague darkness of the alley. The dying light of the sun glinted off of its polished shaft in the second before it impacted something in the darkness, a muffled cry accompanying its impact.

Through the ringing in her ears, she barely managed to catch Sam's whispered "Holy shit," before a fusillade of returning fire exploded from the end of the alley. Victoria slammed the rim of her round shield into the ground and knelt behind its cover as bullets began to ricochet. Aqua immediately realized what she was doing and scampered behind her winged form, her small figure easily hidden behind the Valkyrie's bulk. Sam was a little too late, however, and as he stood there flabbergasted several shots impacted his center-mass. His yelps of pain, while distressing, at least proved that he survived their impact. The angel threw himself behind the dumpster near the alley entryway.

Over the thunder of gunfire, Victoria heard Aqua's incredulous cry, "What in the buttfucking hell is going on?"

Sam groaned from behind his cover, hands covering bloodied holes in his tight-fitting shirt. "I'd hazard a guess, ugh, to say that someone doesn't like us very much."

The punishing rain of shots eased up slightly, and Victoria used the opportunity to peek her helmeted head around the cover of her shield. Where before she could only see darkness and flashes of light, her battle-sharpened vision picked out the shrouded forms of their assailants. There were seven in total, clothed in urban camouflage, the indistinct reds, grays, and blacks breaking up their silhouettes. Despite the masks covering their face, it was difficult to miss the distinctive horns that pushed up through the fabric. Demons, then. They were gathered in a firing line perhaps a hundred feet further down the alley, though Victoria noted with some satisfaction that an eighth member was sprawled on his back, her spear lodged in his chest.

The pride in her instinctual throw quickly evaporated as she saw why the gunfire had abated. Three of the attackers had knelt on the ground, their palms pressed to the concrete while their companions provided covering fire. Victoria saw their palms flash and a deep rumbling began beneath her feet.

"Magic!" she yelled, "We can't stay here!" To put truth to her words, the pavement below her feet split open, a sinkhole forming where she was making her stand. Her wings lifted her into the air as the ground slipped out from beneath her, but she realized a second later that Aqua would not be so lucky. Twisting mid-air (and absorbing several extremely painful shots to the feathers of her wings) she was relieved to see that Sam had grabbed the flightless siren before she could fall into what looked like a sewer system dozens of feet below. Holding tightly to Aqua's wrist as she hung suspended, Sam looked up at the hovering Valkyrie.

"We need a distraction!" he yelled, hoisting Aqua back to the surface without much apparent effort and shielding her body with his own once she was topside. "I don't think Aqua can take a hit like that."

Victoria had a feeling he was correct. In terms of durability, the siren was definitely the weakest of her friends, and the last thing she ever wanted to see was her back in that awful hospital bed. She nodded, and shot into the sky with a powerful beat of her wings. It was obvious that her attackers were anticipating this, as her ascent was harried by gunfire the whole way, and as she reached the break in the building surrounding them, an unnatural gust of air from above faltered her flight.

So, escape wasn't going to be an option, even if she wanted to. The Valkyrie grimaced, her flight becoming more painful as the exertion pulled the tears in her wings wider. Though their attention was on her, she couldn't tank those shots midair forever. Her eyes darting over the forms of the gunmen below, a sudden idea appeared in her mind, the necessary maneuvers and positioning coming to her in an instant. Though her fighting experience was minimal, her experiences thus far had told her to trust these instinctual battle-strategies when they occurred.

With a powerful wingbeat and a wordless cry, she dived down from her lofty position. Lifting her shield before her face, she rocketed towards the ground, her sudden descent taking mere seconds. Though the gunmen responded, peppering her shield with bullets, it was for naught as her armored form crashed directly in the middle of their firing line at a punishing velocity. Feeling the satisfying crunch of bone through her shield, she rolled with the impact, springing her body forward from where she impacted the mysterious assailants. Finishing on one knee next to the corpse of the first fallen gunman, she ripped her spear from his body and turned to face the disordered gunmen, shield held high and spear outthrust.

Two seemed to be out for the count, their bodies bent and broken from her reckless dive, but the remaining five were far from inactive. Like a well-oiled machine, they recovered swiftly. Two immediately raising their stubby rifles and resuming fire on the Valkyrie while two of their comrades dropped their guns, pulling short black knives from their belts. And the fifth, hidden behind the squad, began chanting as grey sigils appeared around her hands.