Naamah

"What about money? Can you make me filthy rich, but nicely, not by killing people?"

"What do you take me for?" She looked ready to stamp her foot in anger. "I'm a succubus. If I'm going to achieve anything I need energy, and for that I need sex."

"Ok, I understand, but do you have to kill the people you have sex with?"

"Not my fault if they can't keep up with me."

"But can't you just take some energy, not drain them completely? I don't want any deaths on my conscience. I didn't summon you, but it seems I'm stuck with you until you complete my task. So, come on, help me out here."

A big sigh. "I can try but you don't know how hard it is, what you're asking. When you are making love do you hold back? Or do you put everything into it? I can't help it that you humans are so weak, and if you really put everything into sex it drains the life force." Her expression became pensive as she thought for a few seconds, "You know the French call orgasm 'La Petite Mort', the little death, referring to the expenditure of life force. Well with me," and she broke into a huge smile, "It 'La Grande Mort'. Curtains. The grand bow before a celestial audience. When you cum, you go!" She twirled in a circle, and continued. "But what a way to go."

"O. K." I said slowly, "But can you tone it down. I DO NOT want any deaths, unless I specifically order it so?"

"Humans! Why did God make you so weak? Why can't you be like Hitler, Gengis Khan, Radovan Karadzic, Ayatollah Khomeini. Or even Maggie Thatcher. They had spines. Weren't scared of making decisions that killed a few people."

"Hitler? He was a fucking megalomaniac. Tried to completely wipe out the Jews. Karadzic was a psychopath. The Ayatollah was a Muslim extremist nutcase and Genghis Khan wanted to rule the world. Thatcher..." I stopped for a second, "Oh come on, she wasn't even in the same category. She was defending her country." I thought. "Did you, like, work for any of them?"

"Maybeeee." Then she wagged a chiding finger at me. "Uh Huh, a girl's got to have some secrets, hasn't she?"

She cocked her head to one side as if listening then sniffed the air. "Why don't you wait here while I go upstairs for a snack?"

"NO. I forbid it. If I'm your master, then NO."

She gazed at me. Her eyes seemed to change, becoming cold and unfriendly, losing colour until they were icy white. "You hold the book, Master." The way she said it, it sounded more like an insult rather than a title. "But you are hiding inside that pentagram and I'm out here in the open. If you're so clever, stop me. It's all there in the book. All you have to do is understand ancient Aramaic. As I looked down at the book I heard the snap of Naamah's fingers. The door flew open and she marched out.

We stood in the circle for about five minutes, until I was fairly sure Naamah wasn't hanging around to see if we would leave the pentagram. "Alice, stay here. Do not move outside the lines till I'm sure she's gone." I jumped over the lines and out of the painted design and hurried over to the open door. A quick look round the door showed an empty corridor.

"OK Alice, let's get the fuck out of here," I whispered. Then saw Jon's body. "Let's do a quick clean up as we go. Did you touch anything?"

"I don't think so. I'm still a little bit dizzy from the drinks."

I ran across the room and grabbed Jon's t-shirt, discarded on the floor. I took the paint brush I had used to draw the pentagram and wrapped it in the cloth. As we left the room I rubbed the door handle clean, then we were along the corridor, up the stairs and out. We grabbed my car and got the hell away from the Old Hall. I only started to breathe easier once we were over a mile away.

I drove back to my house, a two bedroom semi that I had bought when I started work. I had converted the second bedroom into my studio. I worked at the office two or three days a week, and the rest I spent in my studio at home, working on the illustrations I did for the publishing company I worked for. I did it all, from cartoon illustrations inside books, a comic strip that one of our writers wrote, to front covers of books. I wasn't rich, but I did enough to live comfortably.

By the time we got there Alice was just about out of it. The stress combined with the alcohol had got to her. I half carried her into the house and through to my bedroom. I laid her on the bed and took her shoes off, left her to sleep. I went through to the kitchen, put on a large pot of coffee and fired up my laptop. I had some research to do.

By six am I had read loads but was probably more confused that before. One thing I was sure of, the pentagram I had drawn had prevented the daemon from killing us. I thought I was probably very lucky to have picked the right design. Thank God for English A-level! I decided I was going to play safe.

I went through into my studio to look for a permanent marker, but while I was searching, (let's face it, artists aren't the tidiest of people -- my studio had various part-done illustrations scattered over different surfaces, some of my completed paintings stacked against the walls and loads of pencils, pens, pastels, crayons and paints everywhere.) I came across the pot of henna.

Last Summer Sandi had wanted a huge henna tattoo, which started on her right shoulder, scrolled across her back and curled round her ribs to circle her navel, with branches round both tits and curving down onto her Mount of Venus. God, I had fun painting it, AND watching Sandi walk round naked for the rest of the weekend as she didn't want her clothes to rub the henna off. Watching her try to sunbathe nude that weekend without the neighbours seeing was fun too. The sunlight 'cures' the henna tattoo, darkening it. When we went on holiday the henna was a rich brown colour and she certainly drew lots of attention, which was meat and drink to Sandi. By the time the holiday was over the colour was starting to fade so it wasn't too obvious once she was back at work.

I grabbed the pot and a fine brush. Alice was still dead to the world. I pulled her top up to expose her tummy. It only took me five minutes to draw the pentagram on her lower abdomen, starting just above her panties and ending with the upper point an inch from her belly button. The sun rays radiating out from the circle were a bit trickier but when it was finished it looked just like the ones I'd seen on my research. I hoped it would be enough if we ever met the daemon again, though I was hoping more though that we never crossed paths in the future.

I'm right handed. I decided to henna tattoo the inside of my wrists. My left wrist was easy, but it was harder to do my right wrist neatly. Fortunately the coffee had woken me up enough that I was able to do a decent job, not quite as neat as the left one but not a shoddy job. I then decided to call it a night and crashed on the settee for a few hours' kip.

Saturday 1^st November.

I woke up about 9.30. Usually I'm slow to wake up, have the alarm on snooze to keep reminding me, but this morning I was immediately wide awake. I lay for a few seconds thinking about last night, then swung my legs off the settee and levered myself upright. I needed a shower and a change of clothes. Like Alice, I had slept in what I had worn to that bloody Halloween party. However I was so thankful I'd gone. If I'd refused Alice would now be dead. Not something I really wanted to contemplate.

I crept into the bedroom. Alice was still out like a light. She had rolled over onto her side through the night and was curled up. I hadn't turned the heating down last night as I was awake and doing my research, so the house had stayed warm overnight. Alice had obviously been hot so had kicked the duvet off, and lying as she was she left nothing to the imagination. I know she's my sister but Hell, I'm still a bloke, and can't help perving at an almost naked body. And while not as spectacular as the daemon from last night, still not shoddy.

Alice was a pocket rocket. Small and compact, about 5'4", but with everything a red-blooded male could want. The soft, flawless skin of her back swept down to her heart shaped bum barely covered by her tiny panties. Her pussy was highlighted clearly under the crotch of her minimal underwear.

I grabbed my jeans and a T-shirt off the chair and a clean pair of boxers out of the washing basket still waiting to be put away. (Get over it, I'm a man, not perfect at keeping house, but not a complete slob.) As Alice was non compos mentis I quickly took off my clothes and chucked them in a corner for sorting out later and with my change slipped out to the bathroom.

Showered and dressed I started breakfast. Coffee, lots of orange juice and bacon cobs. The smell must have woken Alice as I heard the shower going, then she wandered in wearing an old t-shirt of mine, barely long enough to be decent, but as she didn't seem to be bothered I didn't say anything.

I started with "How's the head? You had a skinful last night."

She groaned and said "Sore. Can I have some Brufen, please?"

I duly got the tablets and she washed them down with the OJ,

"So," I continued, "How much of last night can you remember?"

"I'm not sure, Davie, it's all a bit fuzzy. I vaguely remember dancing with someone, then he was shagging someone else, I think. I must really have had more than I should. Just as well my big bro was there to pick up the pieces." God, she had no idea how true that was.

"But," she stood up, "I certainly don't remember this." And with that she pulled up the t-shirt to expose her lower body. If she hadn't been my sister I would definitely have had very naughty thoughts. Alice however was pointing at the henna tattoo. "So, give. What's the meaning of this?"

Well, I wasn't about to tell her that I'd done it to protect her from a beautiful, but deadly daemon who had been summoned for some unknown task, and her life had been the payment. I had to think quickly, so I chuckled. It did sound a bit forced to me but Alice didn't seem to notice, and said in a light voice, "What, you can't remember? You practically forced me to do it. You said that a real witch would have a witches mark and you 'wanted one too'. So I did that before you went to bed. You insisted that I have too, so..." and I flashed the insides of my wrists.

"O God, I must have been really sloshed." She dropped the t-shirt hem and threw her arms round my neck and pulled me into a deep hug. "I love you, Davie. Thank you for being here for me. I know that sometimes I'm a bit flaky but I know that as long as you're around I don't have to worry. I know you'll look after me, big brother," and she kissed my cheek and just held tight. My arms went round her waist and hugged her back. "Love you too, Little Sis. That's what big brother's are for isn't it? Looking after their little sisters."

After breakfast I loaned Alice a pair of joggers and told her to keep the t-shirt until she had her own clothes, then took her back to her flat.

When we got there Helen and Julie, the other flat mate, were bubbling about the news.

"What's so exciting then," asked Alice.

"The Old Hall," started Julie,

"Where we had the party last night," continued Helen,

"Burnt down!" from them both.

"What?" we chorused.

It transpired that after everyone had left a fire started and the whole building had become ablaze, collapsing in on itself and suffering severe damage. As the party was by ticket, the police were asking everyone who had been there to let them know so that they could be sure that everyone was safe. Five dead bodies had been found in the ashes.

I phoned the number the girls had taken down from the news report and spoke to the officer on the other end. I explained I had taken two people to the Hall, had left with Alice around half past midnight and gone home. Helen, who I'd also taken, had already phoned them to say she was OK.

Alice changed into her own clothes and I took her out for lunch at a local pub. I dropped her off afterwards and told her I'd speak to her during the week. I headed home to think, and do more internet surfing.

Over the weekend I found out a lot of information, most of it contradictory. Naamah was a daemon, one of the original four Queens of the Daemons, along with Lilith, Mahalath and Agrat Bat Mahlat. They became the Queens by mating with the Archangel Samael. Some suggestions were that daemons were originally humans that had been stripped of their humanity in hell. Other sources suggested that Naamah was a 'Fallen Angel', that is one that had been cast down, out of heaven, due to sinning against God. Yet more sources tell that when Cain killed Abel, Adam and Eve separated for 103 years, during which time Lilith and Naamah were his lovers and bore his daemon children, who became the Plagues of Mankind. I hoped she had gone back to her own particular hell and was gone from here.

Monday 3^rd November.

I phoned work and spoke to Esme, the boss's secretary. Actually Esme was so much more. She organised the whole office, arranged the schedules of the authors and writers on our books, organised me as to what illustrations were needed when, sent my stuff to the authors and my boss for approval, and made a mean cup of coffee. She was a small, bubbly blonde, barely five foot tall, but her huge personality made her seem to dominate the room if she chose to. Some authors can be prickly people, making ridiculous demands. Esme could read them and knew when to metaphorically cuddle up to them to make them feel good and when to knock them down and put them in their place. She'd worked there for a couple of years and I think the business would grind to a halt without her brilliance.

"Hi, Esme. It's David. Unless you desperately need me I'm going to work in my studio for two or three days, and come in for Thursday and Friday. I need to finish the illustrations for that new kid's book and have to change the cover of that spy book because the author didn't like it. I wish he'd told us exactly what he was looking for before I wasted all that time doing the originals."

"OK David, I'll tell Charles. If he wants you in before Thursday we'll ring your mobile."

I spent the morning on the kid's book, and the afternoon finishing the book cover. Fortunately I'd done several part drawings before I decided on what I thought was the best to finish. One of the partly done ones was very similar to the author's idea so I knew I could complete it quite quickly. In the evening I continued with the children's illustrations, falling into bed about 1am, but having got everything done that I needed to. I wanted to have a day with The Canon of Samael.

Tuesday 4^th November .

I didn't feel that I could just take the book to someone and ask them what it said. I decided to make copies of a few select pages and see if I could get a translation. I contacted the language department at my local university and also at Oxford and Cambridge. Oxford actually put me through to someone knowledgeable enough to talk some sense, so I agreed to copy and fax the pages through for a Professor Mizrahi to examine. I e-mailed a couple of different pages to the ancient language department at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, with a covering letter, hopefully vague enough to allay any suspicion they may have.

I found a copy of the Aramaic alphabet on-line, so spent the day trying to translate a page myself. I picked the page that Jon had open when he summoned Naamah. I came up with rubbish in the main, with one or two recognisable words mixed in with gobbledegook. This was not going to be easy.

I phoned Alice and chatted to her for half an hour. She told me the other girls had seen her henna and thought it was cool. She also told them about the one I'd done last Summer for Sandi. If I wanted to do another two I had some willing participants. I told her I'd think about it.

Friday 7^th November.

It was close to 5pm and I'd done as much as I could in the office. I'd completed the comic strip for the next four weeks. I was now waiting for Jimmy, the writer, to send me more written work to illustrate. It was reasonably easy work, and was actually quite fun to do. Charlie and I had set up a video conference with the author of the spy book and had eventually got his approval for the cover. After telling us the original wasn't what he wanted, and giving me precise details of what he did want, he realised that the first cover looked much more professional and actually led into the book better. After lots of soul searching he decided to go with the original.

In a way I was pleased as the cover was definitely better, but I was a bit pissed that I'd had the extra work needlessly. Authors. Eh! Prima donnas the lot. I was glad that Esme normally dealt with them.

"OK Charlie, I'm going to hit the road. Some wasted time on the second cover but the first one is definitely better artwork and will be a better cover for the book."

"I know David, but we've got to keep the punters happy, haven't we?"

"You and Jackie have any plans for the weekend?"

"Yep. We're off to Wales for the weekend. Off to visit Jackie's folks. Lots of food and booze. I'm not back in till Tuesday, but Esme can run things just as well as I can."

"Have fun then. Give my love to Jackie. See you next week."

I nipped back into my room, an office cum studio, then wandered out to reception to say 'Bye' to Esme. She was deep in conversation with someone whose back was turned to me.

"David," she said brightly, "Look who's here for you. Your new girlfriend."

The woman turned round. Fuck me if it wasn't the succubus. I'd hoped we'd never meet again.

"Hello. Darling. I've just been getting all the gossip about you from Esme here. What a lovely girl."

I had to think quickly. I didn't want people to know who or what she was, so didn't want to use her name. "Enn, this is a surprise," I stammered. Understatement or what! "I certainly didn't expect to see you here." She glided across the floor towards me and leaned in for a kiss. As we touched I felt a tingle. Naamah obviously felt something a lot stronger. She grabbed my shoulders and whispered "What HAVE you done?"

I leaned forward until we were nearly touching, and whispered my reply, "Protection."

"I said you were going to be trouble right at the start. I was right, wasn't I," she whispered back.

I assume that to Esme it looked as if we were whispering little words of love to each other, at least I hoped that's what it looked like.

I looked over Naamah's shoulder at Esme and said, "We're off Esme, I'll see you Monday, God willing."

"Have a good weekend. Don't be too naughty," she replied with a smile.

Naamah linked her arm through mine. It seemed touching was Ok as long as it wasn't skin to skin. Out in the carpark I opened the car door for her, got her settled and then got in myself. "Where to?" I asked.

"Take me to your home. We've got a lot to talk about."

It was a ten minute drive, and Naamah was silent all the way. When I pulled into the drive she said her first words. "I can see why you asked about making you rich. Bit small, isn't it?"

"I'm twenty five, own my own house and car and at present I'm unattached. Why do I need a mansion?"

"Then why did you ask me to make you rich?"

"At the time it seemed better than asking you to kill someone. And you said I had to give you a task, so it was the first thing that came to mind. Why, have I suddenly got millions in the bank, or are you trying to tell me that you can't complete the task set?"

"Let's go in, shall we, and we can talk about you and me."

I chucked my jacket in the hall cupboard and went into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. "Naamah," I asked, "Do you eat and drink? I know you need sexual energy to survive but what about other things?"