Private Investidemons Ch. 01

Skye undid the dodgy buckle, allowing the bag to spill open, as though it was threatening to spew its contents everywhere as it fell over. It was empty. Instead, Skye picked it up, setting it back against the wall. She pressed both feet together before taking a jump forward.

Around her, the world spun. A hurtling, nausea-inducing experience. The first time for most people resulted in them being sick, as it had for Sam. Even as experienced as she was, it still left her queasy. Sam had described it as the world's worst roller coaster.

"Back so soon?" The voice was gravelly and coarse, yet decidedly feminine. Skye groaned, looking up at the figure looming over her. Those thick, bushy dark curls and the fur sticking out from the neckline of the shirt did little to dissuade people's concerns.

A clawed hand was stuck out, one which Skye took with gratitude, pulling her to her feet. "Wynn." Skye took a pause for a moment, taking in the figure before it. Even with all she'd witnessed, there was still something about the creature before her that took her breath. Perhaps it was the height, standing at almost seven feet. Or the thick fur covering her limbs and chest.

Skye barely had a moment to ponder before she found thick, trunk-like limbs wrapped around her back, lifting her from the ground. Her back cracked in a satisfying manner. Her face was forcibly buried in the softness of Wynn's chest fur. The scent was woody and autumnal, like the scent of fallen leaves. There was something immediately and immensely calming about Wynn's embrace.

"I missed you." Wynn gave a sigh, squeezing Skye closer in the process. In return Skye practically went limp, relaxing into the warm hug. They were somewhere between lovers and friends, in the weird grey area. Skye had been careful at first that the relationship wasn't merely a development and expression of Wynn's gratitude.

After what seemed like an eternity, Skye found herself dropped, Wynn shuffling backwards.

"Sorry." Wynn dropped her head, practically pining, the tail behind her visibly drooping.

"Don't worry about it." Skye offered up the warmest of smiles, Wynn was one of the few people in the world she felt truly at home with. There had been Sam... but he was gone. Without Wynn, the sorrow might have been too much.

Wynn knew of loss. When Skye had found her, she had been alone in the world. Even now Skye knew little of the woman's past, beyond some stories and tales she'd been told. She'd figured out early not to pry, sensing there was something there Wynn didn't want to talk about. Perhaps eventually she would, but that day was still to come.

Skye stepped by Wynn, pausing to ruffle her fingers through the woman's tail, knowing how much she loved it. Only a few steps and it was enough to turn and collapse into the mess of cushions scattered across the floor.

"You'll never guess what."

"What?" There was an excited exclamation to Wynn's tone. She didn't get out to experience the outside world as much as she would have liked. It was safer that way. People tended not to take kindly to a towering, muscled, fur-sporting beast. That was how she'd ended up with Skye in the first place.

"I got asked out for dinner." Skye stated it with an almost groan. Part of her was excited, but at the same time, she was dreading it. She spent too much time solely with magical items and magical creatures. The normal world had become almost foreign. There were those in the world of magic who looked down upon the mundane. Those people would find Ryan's attempted courting of Skye a disgusting ordeal. She tried to stay as far from that mindset as she could.

"No way!" Wynn let out a high-pitched squeal, practically bouncing on the spot. "Tell me everything!"

"What's he like? Is he hot? Is he a mage? Oh- Oh! He's something else, right? A dark, mysterious sorcerer? A tragic blood-sucking vampire?! A shadowy fortune teller?!" Every question had Wynn's voice getting louder and more high-pitched, clearly more excited than Skye was.

"You've been reading too much gothic horror." Skye groaned. She couldn't complain, one of the only ways for Wynn to pass the time was by reading. She'd come a long way since they had first become companions. It had been tough and slow going, but Skye had taught her to read.

"And that's a bad thing? Tell me everything. Or I'll pin you down and force you to."

Wynn practically flopped atop Skye, weighing a lot more than she appeared. Skye sighed happily. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the woman's waist. Her fingers dipped downwards, scratching at the base of Wynn's bushy tail. With it being clear she didn't have a choice in the matter or whether she was going to tell Wynn everything, she spilt the details of her meeting with Ryan.

Around them was a small, quaint, but cosy cottage. It was another item Skye didn't entirely understand. Yet it was perhaps among the most powerful of the magical artefacts in her possession. Planar magic was almost as difficult as chronomancy. A gateway to its own pocket dimension would have put the bag in the realms of divine magic. It would have surpassed even the creation of a reality marble the demons had promised her.

Instead, it merely connected to another plane, one Skye was unfamiliar with. Even her research had turned up nothing. It was a desolate place, the landscape predominantly marshy. There were trees and flora, all earthlike. But the place was decidedly not Earth. A distinct lack of fauna was present, Skye was yet to personally see another living being. But she had seen the distinct evidence of them, including dead, butchered beasts resembling deer, cows, or similar.

The bag had been in the possession of a medicine woman before coming into Skye's own possession. The woman had used it as a safe haven to brew her potions and conduct her business, safe from prying eyes. Though eventually, she had reached a point of desperately wanting to part with it. She had refused to entirely explain, using a word to describe it that in Skye's best attempt at translation meant something along the lines of cursed.

Skye's first use of it hadn't been one where she found herself in the cottage. There had been nothing but the portal to return, leaving her alone without shelter in the strange, earthlike landscape. A return visit later down the line had the beginning of the makings of the cottage, it had been only one room.

Only after first bringing Sam had the cottage been present. After bringing Wynn the cottage had expanded. It was because of that they had figured out the bag seemed to provide an appropriate accommodation or a workplace for the user.

Skye had brought books, a handful of children's ones she'd bought from a second-hand store. Wynn had built a bookcase. The reality-warping nature of the cottage seemed to take that upon itself to construct a library. The books were neatly split and organised, separated roughly correlating to their difficulty to read. Skye had even found several books on the paranormal and occult, ones she'd never seen on Earth. Those had been helpful more than once.

They were safe within the cottage, even with the evidence beyond that there were predators of some variety on the same plane. Skye had tried to seek them out at first, but found no tracks nor trace, beyond the carcasses they left behind. Eventually, they had decided it was best to leave whatever it was alone, for it was choosing to leave them alone.

*****

Wynn had been excited with the details of Skye's meeting with Ryan. She had encouraged Skye pretty strongly to keep to their appointed date too. After all, as Wynn had put it, what was the worst that could happen? But it had become clear Skye had grown tired of talking, as she sometimes did. Wynn had figured sometimes it had been because of memories of Sam, other times she'd been unable to decipher the enigmatic woman.

"What's wrong?" Wynn tilted her head, allowing the end of her nose to nuzzle against Skye's own. It had taken time for Wynn to become fully comfortable with their developed relationship, as she knew it had for Skye. In their own ways, they were both broken. Wynn had been born into a world where she didn't fit, and Skye... Well, Skye was Skye.

"Nothing." Skye was stubborn. Wynn knew she had Skye's trust, but even still, at times, it was difficult to get the woman to talk.

Wynn lifted a hand, allowing her lightly furred fingers to brush over Skye's cheek. She had changed since they had first met. The years had taken their toll. Skye looked tired and worn out. It was non-stop. She constantly threw herself at problems, trying to fix them. She needed to take time for herself.

Skye dipped her head, sighing. Her eyes closed, letting out a heavier sigh. Wynn lightly pinched the woman's cheek, shifting closer.

"You work too hard."

Skye merely gave the slightest of nods. Wynn knew Skye understood. She didn't need to be told. It was a method of escape. A way to avoid facing her own problems. Wynn knew it all too well.

The people had hunted Wynn. Even as she had tried to help them. Her people were kind, jovial spirits. But the people had forgotten. When her pack still lived, the elders had told stories of when the humans and the wulver had lived together in harmony. But that was long ago. In time they'd become mistaken for werebeasts, predominantly werewolves. Over time the numbers of her pack had dwindled until she found herself alone in the world. Hunted, afraid, and alone.

That had been before Skye. The woman had not only saved her but slayed the beasts that plagued the people of the Shetland Islands. It brought peace to the people, but would not bring back her pack. She missed them dearly. Skye was a great friend and an amazing lover. But it didn't fill the hole in her soul that she felt. She was eternally grateful, yet wished for a return to when times were simpler. When her people weren't hunted.

Skye's eyes blinked open, catching Wynn's gaze. Wynn knew and tried to dip her head, a feeble attempt to hide the tears that had been forming. The memories of the past and of her pack had come flooding back as she had found herself pinching Skye's cheek as her own mother had done to her.

When Skye had found her, she'd been afraid and alone. The people hated her for being something she wasn't. She had tried to help them. At first, she had even tried to fight. As brave and as strong as she was, she hadn't been enough, sent away to lick her wounds. The werewolves had been far stronger, they were a people built to do battle. With her pack, they might have been a match, but alone she wasn't. She knew her brothers would have fought to the death for their honour, and forced the people to remember the kindness of the wulver.

Skye blinked her eyes open, gazing upwards in an attempt to catch Wynn's gaze. There was a cloudy darkness to Skye's gaze, one Wynn found herself staring into. It was almost haunting, a sure-fire symptom and result of the demons she played host to. On more than one occasion Wynn had begged her to rid herself of that burden. She didn't need them. Banish them, and be done with it.

Wynn knew the truth, even if Skye wouldn't admit it. She hadn't been strong enough to save Sam. It was after that the problem had spiralled. Before she had been keen and content to banish the demons, sending them packing and back to hell. Now she almost seemed to crave collecting more, saving their service for a rainy day. It saddened Wynn, to see her dearest friend so broken.

Beyond the magic, the demons, and everything else, she was only a woman. At first, Wynn had tried to talk about it. About Sam. It became clear quite quickly it was the one thing that was almost entirely off-limits. Skye shut down at the mention of her lost lover.

Skye tried to lift her head, and Wynn slightly tilted her own, holding eye contact with the tired figure before her. Their lips met, locking into a soft, warm embrace. Both sighed into it. Their arrangement wasn't perfect, but it was as much as they could ask for. Wynn hoped the moment would last.

She pulled away, shifting back. She was sitting straddling Skye's waist, gazing down at her. It had taken a while for them to grow so comfortable with each other, and Wynn knew it was difficult for Syke. The majority of her life had been spent hunting and rooting out dangerous creatures, demons, and other occult or paranormal occurrences. But Wynn had shown she was purely benevolent.

Wynn had even tried to help the people of the village. Every morning she had left fresh fish for them. The impoverished Hamiltons and Grahams had made it through the winter because of her kindness. She hated the fact they couldn't see the truth. She wasn't their enemy. It still saddened her.

Wynn dropped her hands, the backs of them were furred while her fingers just appeared to have dense hair. Gently they grasped at Skye's waist. Gazing still into the woman's eyes she could see just how tired she looked. She had changed since they first met.

Skye closed her eyes once more, sinking back into the comfort of the pillows. Wynn knew it was difficult for Skye to relax. She had seen and experienced too much. But they were unlikely to be disturbed unless a powerful mage came across the bag. To anyone else, it was merely a battered old bag.

"You need to sleep more." Wynn's hands lifted, tugging at the collar of Skye's coat. It required slight force to tug the coat free from Skye's tired body, tossing it aside. Wynn could see the tension lifting free of the woman's body before her.

Beneath the jacket was a simple black shirt. At some point, it had been emblazoned with a band's logo on the front, but at this point was too faded to be comprehensible. The hem of it pushed up as Wynn's fingers pushed beneath, rubbing the flatness of Skye's stomach. "And eat more. And no, you don't eat plenty. You know how it works."

Skye murmured a quiet protest that had no real effort behind it. It had been Skye who had explained it to Wynn. The magical nature of the ink upon her flesh required some level of magical upkeep. Some called it mana, others vitae. Different magical cultures and societies around the world had different terminology.

"I wish you didn't have these." Wynn sighed once more, giving a slight shake of her head. She had made it quite apparent her thoughts on the demonic imprisonment Skye conducted and clung to so desperately. It was a dangerous game, and she believed Skye would be better off banishing them.

"Shhh, my wulver. Enough chat." Skye's words were soft, almost a whisper. Rarely did she speak of Wynn's true nature so clearly. Wynn had been the first and only wulver Skye had met. Wynn had told her there had once been many of them, but they'd been hunted to near extinction, mostly due to their similarities with werebeasts.

Wynn followed Skye's instruction, instead shifting her attention to action. She had pushed Skye's shirt up, allowing it to bundle and pool beneath her breasts, baring her stomach. Across it was what could only be described as a hellish landscape, a gate and a chained, winged figure at the forefront of it. Wynn knew the truth, but would still swear the figure would stare back at her. At least the ink covered the scars, those saddened her.

Lightly and slowly Wynn's dulled claws traced across Skye's flesh, getting a shiver in response.

"Droch bhrògan air bean greusaiche, droch cruidhean air each gobha, droch bhriogais air gille tàilleir, droch chart aig saor." There was an almost sombreness to Wynn's tone as she spoke the words of her mother tongue in an almost hushed whisper, knowing Skye didn't speak it. The words were for Wynn herself. One of these days Skye would act in her own interest.

Wynn shifted, bringing herself down to lay aside Skye, draping one leg over the woman, intertwining the two of them together. Leaning close enough to plant her lips against the woman's exposed throat, she began planting soft, gentle kisses. Skye merely murmured quietly in response.

Those dulled claws drifted up, pushing beneath the bundled bottom of the shirt, shifting both hands up and under a moment later. She knew Skye tended not to wear a bra. A mere moment later again and Skye's soft, less-than-handful breasts were being lightly squeezed in the embrace of the wulver's grasp.

Wynn gave pause, waiting for a response, but none came. She sighed and pulled her hands back and free, but not before pushing Skye's shirt further up. She shifted herself, draping herself over the smaller woman like a blanket. Her cheek nestled between her lover's bosom, her arms wrapped down and around. Skye was the one human she'd ever felt truly comfortable with.

Nearby the fire crackled. Wynn had tended to it and fed it with fresh logs not long before Skye's return. So, she knew it would be a while before they needed to attend to it.

She was content to merely cuddle, knowing Skye had already drifted to sleep. She needed it, and Wynn wasn't keen to disturb her. Instead, she lay there with her sleeping lover, feeling as Skye's chest rose and fell. The closeness of their embrace with Wynn's cheek upon Skye's chest was such that she could hear the slow, purposeful beating of the woman's heart. She knew it longed for Sam and hoped she could be a meaningful second.

*****

'If you made it to the end, wow! Thank you. I very much hope you enjoyed it. I look forward to reading people's comments, and would love for people to rate it too. I'm hoping at the minimum to get out a chapter a month, but would love to reach a faster pace. The more people like it, the more inclined I will be to work harder. I have a lot of fun planned for the series.

I'm also going to be looking for more beta-reader, editor type people too!'