Rotten To The Core

"I'm pretty sure the owners placed a Portal across the corridor back in Greenbury. Kinda impressive, considering the place's reputation."

"Right. Jenna said something about 'not being able to teleport there' when she picked me up in N'Orleans due to some fluctuation thing or other. Right. Gaps in the Barrier."

"Mama Louise talking?"

"Yeah. She's trying to -- shut up please -- make me look good in your company."

"Considerate but unnecessary. I'd rather have you focused than presentable. Does she ever keep quiet?"

"Mama does take naps on occasion," Eric grumbled, heading for the curtain. A pleasant, spicy aroma wafted from it. He pulled the curtain aside.

A narrow hall awaited them. The nine-foot tall minotaur guarding the next door made it look two sizes smaller than it actually was. He wore a tailor-made suit and a pair of enormous knuckle dusters dangled from his belt.

"Welcome to the House of Unearthly Delights." He pointed to his right. "Changing rooms are over there. Before I can let you pass, we need to talk about your arsenal though."

"Hi. Order of Martinius," Laura said, pulling her holy symbol from the neck of her shirt. "I'd like to speak to your boss please."

The minotaur offered her the bovine equivalent of a wide grin. "Of course, of course. I still need to lock your implements of murder away. No one gets past this curtain clothed or armed."

"Your boss -- or one of her girls -- may be a suspect in a double murder case," Eric growled. "How are we to apprehend her if we don't have our weapons?"

"How about talking it out?" the minotaur replied calmly. "I'm pretty sure there will be no need for violence of any kind." He lowered his voice until it was a stomach-churning growl. "And if there will be violence, I'm the guy you'll have to get past."

"That's one battle I'd rather not have," Laura said, unhooking her scabbard. "Not without at least something in .357 Magnum in hand."

The minotaur tried to suppress a laugh. It almost worked.

"Are you really giving him your weapons?" Eric asked, aghast.

"It's either that or starting a fight we can't win," she said, handing off her sword and gun.

"A wise choice," the minotaur grumbled, opening a towering safe behind him. He fixed neon-green 'post it' stickers to Laura's gear and handed her a similarly colored latex wristband. "There are colored chips in the lockers. Mark your stall with one when leaving." He looked at Eric. "So, how about it? You wanna cuddle with your boomstick or one of our luscious ladies?"

"Fine, fine. Just don't break it or something," Eric grumbled, handing off the gun followed by his mace. The bouncer tacked pink stickers on them.

"The ammo," the minotaur suggested, handing out a small square tray. "All of it."

Eric obliged, counting down eight shells into the tray.

"And don't forget that boot dagger," the minotaur added.

"Which boot dagger?" Eric asked innocently.

The bouncer pointed with one of his hoofed feet. "The one on your left ankle. Has a rose pommel. Looks kinda girly, if you ask me."

Laura suppressed a giggle as Eric struggled with his jeans. With a sour face, the cleric handed off the slender blade. It did look like something a woman would have hidden in her braid.

"Okay then," the minotaur said, bowing slightly. "Go get changed."

"Can't we do this in our street clothes?" Eric asked. "We're only here to talk!"

"Come on already," Laura said, gently pulling him along.

"Why are you so eager to get naked? Earlier this morning you tried to hide your boobs from me."

"Because every moment you spend arguing is a moment wasted," Laura said, opening the door to the changing rooms. A narrow hallway with curtained cubicles stretched away forever. "Besides, I'm pretty sure they have some kind of robe or something. Sheesh, and I thought I was a prude." She ducked behind a curtain.

"Nope, you're the one with the horny dark elf-" Eric interrupted himself. There was the rustling of fabric as he claimed his own cubicle.

Inside was a small locker, a mirror and a hanger from which a sheer pink robe dangled. Golden filigree was stitched into it, turning the roomy sleeves into a semblance of wings. Laura undressed and donned the robe. The fabric caressed her skin lovingly. She shivered slightly at the unexpected sensation. When she looked up, she caught her reflection. The robe left little to the imagination while the golden stitching seemed to emphasize her curves.

It's more like an appetizing wrap than any protection of modesty, she thought.

On impulse, she pulled her phone from her jacket and snapped a shot in the mirror, to send to Vicky later. In this interdimensional space, there was no cell coverage. Humming to herself, she stashed her clothes in the locker. Inside, besides the obligatory hangers and shelving, she found a small bowl containing colorful tokens. She picked the one matching her wrist band and left the cubicle. On the left hand side of the frame, she found an indentation and slotted the token into it.

"Eric? You still there?" she asked.

"I am not wearing this," he croaked.

"Aw, come on. Everybody looks cute in pink."

"That thing barely covers anything!"

"I think it looks rather hot on me," Laura said. "Don't you want to see?"

"What's gotten into you? Is there some kind of sex magic at work?" Eric asked.

Good question, Laura thought. I feel... at ease. Although I probably shouldn't.

"Listen. If you're too scared to show me your pink-clad butt, I'll go in alone and you can wait out front. But I'd rather go in with a cleric by my side who can bring down a Flame Strike should things go sideways. You can cast a Flame Strike, can't you?"

"Of course I-... Okay, oh-fucking-kay. You win. But if I catch you laughing, you'll die first!" Eric pulled the curtain open. Instead of a pink robe, he wore a leaf-shaped loincloth with gold fronds dangling from it.

Laura looked him up and down. He was lean, toned and sported a trio of badly healed gunshot scars on his left shoulder and chest. A top hat wearing skull tattoo adorned his right bicep. Like Laura, he wore a silver necklace with the Order's blue-tinged cross and he refused to leave his bandana behind.

"What are you lookin' at?" he grumbled. His hands flexed, almost as if something kept them from protectively cupping his junk -- which Laura could easily spot past the leaf.

"Nice ink," she said, indicating his tattoo.

"Not my idea," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "When I woke up from my coma, with dead Mama Louise over my body, it was just... there. Like I'd been branded." He again tried to hide his privates.

"I have no idea why you're so fidgety," she calmly announced. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. I bet you made a lot of other boys rather envious in the locker room." She extended a hand. "Come. Let's have a chat with the boss lady."

Eric kept nervously checking their surroundings as they walked back to the minotaur bouncer. The bull-headed giant bowed and pulled open the curtain he was guarding. Beyond was a cavernous hall shrouded in intimate twilight. Sensual music played on unfamiliar instruments caressed their ears, the rolling drum beats inviting them to dance and shake what they had. Exotic fragrances tickled their nostrils, hints of delicious food, aromatic oils and spices. A gentle, warm breeze caused Laura's robe to flutter around her thighs. The center of the room was made up of veiled spaces, the illumination within just bright enough to see writhing shadows. Bits of hushed conversation, singing or heated moans could be heard.

"Now what?" Eric grumbled. "Do they expect us to holler for help?"

"Oh no, we wouldn't want such a crude display of impatience." The voice was a low purr. For a heartbeat, Laura wondered what the owner of such a voice could do to her. Goosebumps raced down her spine and she had to consciously stop herself from caressing her breasts. Eric didn't fare much better -- his loincloth began to tent. This time his spiritual passenger had mercy and he crossed his hands over it.

A succubus emerged from the twilight. A pair of crimson bat wings wrapped around her naked body like a regal gown and a long tail accentuated each of her steps with a graceful curl. Hair the color of midnight spilled over her breasts and down her back, seemingly moving with a will of its own. A thin strand of gold snaked past her right ear. Her lips were curled in a sensual smile but it was her eyes which caught Laura off-guard. There was a lusty sparkle, yes, but something else as well, a wisdom and gentleness she didn't expect to see anywhere near a lust demon. Something else caught her eye -- an unsightly red spot between the demon's clavicles in a familiar shape -- the five-bladed wings of Mercy.

"Welcome," the succubus said, offering a deep bow. Something golden around her navel caught an errant shaft of light. "I hope you didn't have to wait long."

"Not at all," Laura gasped, acutely aware of how aroused she was. She clasped her wrist. "We were taking in the sights. Could we speak to Lydia please?"

"You already are, Miss Stürmer. Mr. Deveraux. Or may I call you Laura and Eric?" the succubus asked. Her tail made a complicated, serpentine motion.

You may call me anything you like, Laura thought, stopping herself from rolling her hips. Eric looked like someone juggling a live grenade without a target to throw at.

Laura's insane need suddenly flatlined, leaving her much calmer -- and somehow craving more still. Eric audibly gasped for air and exhaled slowly, his loincloth slowly returning to a vertical position.

Lydia cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. What can I help you with?"

"It's a... delicate situation," Laura began then stopped. "Aren't you able to read my thoughts?"

Lydia chuckled amicably. "Yes but it is generally seen as a gross breach of privacy. So, unless you absolutely want me to, let's stick to words for now." She stepped between Laura and Eric and touched their shoulders. "This way please."

"Where are you taking us?" Eric asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. His gaze went from their host to the veiled spaces to their right to some lavishly laid out buffets to their left. Other succubi flitted to and fro, some fetching food and drink from the buffet, others slipping through the sheer curtains.

"Not everyone is having sex," Laura observed, nodding towards one of the veiled spaces. Two shadows sat upright, facing each other. While she looked, one reached for the table between them.

"Pleasure has many forms," Lydia said, her hand caressing Laura's neck. "Some are here for pure lust, the kind of sex born in their wildest dreams. Others desire more cerebral pursuits. Music, art, food or even a board game or two. Ah, an open space." She left her guests and pulled open a curtain. "This way."

Beyond was an oasis made from cushions strewn across the floor. A low table played host to a small forest of bottles and glasses, all filled with colorful liquids. Underneath it, a neat stack of towels rested. Lydia sank into the cushions, her bat wings dissipating as she sat down.

"...and you think it's safe?" Eric muttered.

Laura took his hand and pulled him inside. Behind her, the curtain rustled shut. She sat down across from Lydia. After some hesitation, Eric followed suit, placing his hands in his lap.

The lust demon looked at them expectantly. "So, what brings the Order of Martinius to me? It's been some time since one of your Order came here." Her eyes went from Laura to Eric and back.

The young cleric appeared lost in thought. Laura sighed softly. Either he was overwhelmed by Lydia's presence or he was arguing with Mama Louise. Neither situation was optimal. As the senior Order member, she had to watch out for him -- and with the naked succubus caressing her with her eyes, that was no easy task.

"You did catch our names already," she said, forcing herself to remember proper interview etiquette.

"Yes. I did allow myself the small peek." Lydia flashed a little smile. "It helps to break the ice if I can address my clients directly. Most seem to lose their tongue for the first dozen or so minutes after arrival. You seem to be rather collected though," she complimented Laura.

"Barely," Laura admitted. "I'm grateful you masked your aura for us. Even so, it's rather hard to think about anything but sex around you."

"You'll get used to it in a bit." Lydia's eyes lovingly gazed at her. "But if all else fails, we could take care of your needs then talk about the unpleasant things which brought you here afterwards. Nothing like a bit of uninhibited debauchery to clear the mind."

Laura had to muster all her willpower not to agree to Lydia's plan. Despite the heated bout of phone sex she had with Vicky the night before, her body yearned for a lover's touch and the prospect of having to wait months until she could see her dark elven friend again hurt more than she wanted to admit to herself.

She focused on Lydia. The succubus lounged back in her cushions, a long-stemmed glass of some beverage between her graceful fingers. Her whole body was a thinly veiled invitation -- slightly spread legs allowed easy glances at her sex and the lust demon's nipples were erect, begging to be licked. With some difficulty, Laura forced her gaze away from them, to the clearly visible burn mark between the demon's clavicles.

"Say, what happened to you there?" she asked, her fingers touching her own skin instead of pointing at Lydia. "Did you have a run-in with a Mercy cleric?"

Lydia gently shook her head. "Nothing that dramatic. This is where my holy symbol rests six days a week."

"Doesn't that hurt like all hell?" Eric asked breathlessly, his gaze seeking Laura's. He seemed grateful for anything to divert his attention from Lydia's body -- or his own impressive erection.

"Why would you do that?" Laura asked.

The fires of devotion lit up in Lydia's eyes. "Three simple reasons. First, when I decided to forsake the ways of the Abyss, I needed a constant reminder not to revert to my evil ways. Second, it is a visible sign to others that I might be more than your average lust demon. And third -- I am a bit of a masochist." A coy smile fluttered across her lips. "In the beginning, the pain was almost unbearable. The symbol would leave the skin beneath blackened and raw. I did persevere though. No idea if any of my actions changed me or my body simply adapted. Now, a few centuries later, it only hurts when I grow really tired."

"I've never heard of a succubus willingly wearing holy symbols. Not even our teacher in Briou does that," Laura said.

"Ah, dearest Sophia. How is she doing these days?"

"You know her?" Eric wondered.

In the space next to them, a woman's moans crescendoed as she reached a powerful orgasm.

"Of course. She was sent to the Order as a liaison and, more importantly, a show of good faith. Mr. Aulin was the one to put in a good word for her with your commanders. If a vampire could become an ally of the light, surely a lust demon could too?"

"She teaches monster lore and Shadow psychology. And sex ed," Laura explained. The shadows one cubicle over moved, with the female voice issuing hushed commands to her lovers. This is not helping, she thought bitterly. Despite her best efforts, her fingers had crept under the flimsy fabric of her robe and were caressing the light fuzz on her labia. With a herculean effort, she placed her hands on her thighs. Eric looked somewhat disappointed. Laura moaned softly as his gaze lit a new rush of arousal in her nethers. She bit her lower lip. "Anyway, enough of that. Can we get down to business now?"

"You may do with me as you like, Laura," Lydia purred, caressing down her body. "The both of you, if you want." The succubus' gaze found Eric's loincloth which had by now slid to the side, leaving his rock-hard cock out in the open. He was much too occupied devouring Laura and Lydia with his eyes.

"Okay then," Laura gasped, digging her fingernail into her skin. The pain helped her focus somewhat. "We work for the Order branch in Greenbury, Massachusetts. The cops there have found two corpses drained of all life. They basically look like mummies, with parchment-like skin, no drop of liquid in their bodies. You know what I mean."

"Of course." Lydia nodded curtly. "Before I changed my ways, I drained enough unlucky... clients."

Next to them, Laura heard the unmistakable sounds of someone giving an enthusiastic blowjob. She remembered how Vicky had treated Marox and Thorin in The Flaming City, how hungrily she had gone down on them -- and now she wondered how it would compare to licking her girlfriend's most sensitive spot. She looked to the side and saw two broad-shouldered shadows towering over a curvy female kneeling between them, alternately serving their rampant cocks. She tore her eyes away from the lewd display. "Sorry," she stammered. "You said?"

"I said, before I changed my ways, I did drain my fair share of unlucky clients," Lydia patiently repeated. "Also, I can assure you that neither I nor any of my girls have recently been to Greenbury."

"And how can we trust you?" Eric asked. Laura was amazed he still was so coherent. But there he was, his eyes firmly trained on Lydia's face and his hands balled to fists on his thigh.

Maybe Mama Louise is holding the reins right now. Laura thought.

"There is little hard proof I can offer you," Lydia said. "Succubi usually are summoned. We rarely travel on our own, especially out in the Real World. Our Abyssal masters are afraid of our independence and now that I am free to go wherever I please, I'm afraid to run into an overzealous paladin."

"A cleric can ruin your day just the same," Eric grumbled, touching his skull tattoo. "Would you mind if I cast truth-finding magic on you?"

"Not one bit," Lydia purred. "There are no magic-foiling safeguards in place. A girl needs every advantage on her home turf she can get." She sat up straight, discarding the lusty facade for the moment.

Laura gasped a breath of relief.

The eye sockets in Eric's tattoo lit up with mystical flames as he chanted in French. His voice sounded different, gone was his forced tough-boy delivery, replaced by a smooth, confident tone employed by someone who has done similar things for quite a long time. He gestured towards Lydia. The succubus was enveloped in a cloud of silvery motes.

"Tell me a lie," the cleric demanded.

"Sure. I ate six babies last night," Lydia fired back, her long-fingered hand closing as if she was crushing a tiny skull.

Eric recoiled. "Did it have to be that gruesome?" he complained.

"I'm sorry. It had to be clear and unambiguous enough for your spell to register. Did I lie?"

He shuddered. "Yes. Now, let me ask again. Did you or any of your girls come to Greenbury recently?"

Lydia shook her head. "On my honor. No. Neither I nor any of my girls left this interdimensional space in the past two months or so. Usually, our clients seek us out."

The noises in the space one over intensified again. Laura had been too fixed on Eric's display of spellcraft but now the rough breathing and wet slapping of the woman and her two lovers was too loud and rowdy to ignore any more. Her gaze flicked to the curtain. The shadows had formed into one writhing whole and it was impossible to see who was doing what to whom but the sounds conjured all kinds of possibilities.

Why does it get to me like that anyway? Laura thought, angry at her lack of discipline. I mean, I sat on the same bed when Marox and Thorin double-teamed Vicky, caressed her even. Now I almost lose my shit at a few shadows and moans?

A touch to her cheek tore her from her thoughts. Her eyes snapped open. Lydia knelt in front of her, the succubus' nose almost touching her. "Eric has deemed me sufficiently innocent," she murmured, her index finger caressing down Laura's throat. "He's wondering what to do next though." Lydia's finger stopped between Laura's breasts and the succubus used her palm to topple Laura into the cushions.