Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 15

Ceria deadpanned, "Oh, cute, he brought Garlana's Mask. Has he showed you how it works yet?"

Adze turned her head toward Tom slightly, and he assumed she was giving him a sideward glance, despite not actually being able to see him. "Nobody shows me anything," she muttered bitterly.

Ceria reached down and ran two fingers between Adze's legs, causing the succubus to shriek with something akin to fear. Adze swung her clawed hands in front of her, but Lusotan reined her in with a firm hand against her side that sent her stumbling sideways.

"I will kill you, wretch!" Adze roared, swinging her hands to fend off any would-be further attempts from Ceria to touch her.

Ceria admonished, "Now now, play nice. It's just a bit of harmless fun..."

"I will not be killed by the mask that slew Garlana!"

"Then calm yourself," Ceria said in a tone between suggesting and demanding. "I could smell you from the door."

Adze pushed herself to her feet and growled, "If your champion were not so afraid of me, we would not be standing here now."

"Afraid, huh?" Tom questioned.

Ceria grinned widely at that and knelt down to Adze's level. "Aw, is the mean ol' human just teasing your evewy pwecious desire? Is he a bad human?" She looked at Tom and wagged her finger at him. "Naughty Tom, don't tease your toys."

"I am not a goddamned plaything!" the succubus roared, lunging at Ceria.

Lusotan threw his fist against her head so hard that it reversed her trajectory and sent her skittering across the floor until the collar around her neck ran out of slack and jerked her to a halt. Lusotan grunted disapprovingly.

"Do not raise your hand against the mistress." He was motionless as Adze rolled onto her stomach and got to her feet slowly, holding her head as blood trickled out of the bottom of Garlana's Mask. She swayed a bit before regaining her balance.

"And the ever-present hand of justice returns," she muttered sardonically.

"Oh hush. You're so mouthy today; has Tom loosened up that mouth of yours?"

Adze groaned. "He wouldn't know what to do with it if he had instructions."

Ceria arched a brow at Tom and bit her bottom lip. "He's more than you think he is."

"Taking my side finally?" the agent asked rhetorically.

Her eyes diverted to his still-throbbing arousal tugging at his pants and she said in an offhanded manner, "Affirming my faith in your tool there, really."

Tom rolled his eyes. "And a nice fuck you to you too, milady." He gave her a mockingly low and exaggerated bow.

Ceria raised her eyebrows suggestively. "This special treatment from you is a nice change, but I'm afraid I have to go now, guests to entertain, wars to wage, plunder to take and all that great stuff. I'll return later to see how loose her mouth is." She returned to the door to leave, and paused with her hand on it for a moment before leaving. "Oh, and Tom?"

"What?"

"Remember what I said about toys." She gave him a snide look and then left with her entourage in tow. As his mistress left, Lusotan made to leave as well, only addressing Tom to make his displeasure known.

"Treat the mistress with more respect...please," he added begrudgingly. He watched Adze warily as he and the servant left, closing the door behind them. When Adze realized that they were alone, she licked her quicksilver lips enticingly.

"I may be unable to act upon my greater desires..." She opened her mouth, saliva coating her tongue. "But I can make it very difficult for you to resist yours."

------------ Festival Grounds, Ceria's Estate, Hell ------------

Greg clapped wholeheartedly for the couple who'd just finished with their acrobatic sex show on the stage, his applause getting lost in the cheering and calls for encore from the demons around him. His servant mimicked him for a few moments, clapping politely as her silver ornamentation swung around her arms and wrists.'

The incubus and succubus on the stage dismounted their web of rigging and quietly exited the stage after a series of thankful bows. Greg looked over at his servant and she glanced at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, master?" she asked suggestively.

Greg shrugged. "I was wondering what other events you'd be able to tell me about." He watched her lips spread in a wide smile and she gently took his left hand and put it on her thigh. She took his right hand and placed it opposite his left, turning so that she faced away from him.

"There is always the great dance hall, where we might rock our bodies to and fro..." she stepped back so that her back was to his front, swaying gently from side to side. "Or the great games held on the field, where I would believe your younger boy is now with the mistress."

"Great games, huh?" Greg said, moving back and forth with the lesser demon. She reached up and placed her hands on his head, running her long fingers through his hair.

"Yes, the field of fields within this estate. Where all manner of sport is played and game held and competition won. Or we could go to the roundhouses and watch a play or two, see a tale of starcrossed lovers, have spun before us the love of two champions brought far across the Nine Circles and Seven Rings."

"Is this you telling me poetry?" Greg mused, nipping the servant's ear. He hadn't yet learned her name, but she often slipped into some kind of lengthy, flowery speech when she talked about love or lovers. He assumed it was some kind of poetry she liked.

"Poetry? No, I...oh, you hear it as poetry, don't you master?"

"Hear what?"

The servant sighed softly and turned her head. "We do not speak the same language, master. Yet, you hear me fine and I you. It is because in Hell, there is no distinction between the language we use and the words we understand, unlike your Realm. Here, everyone understands one another. When I speak to seduce you, it must come off very verbose and long-winded."

Greg shrugged. "Poetic," he corrected. "Poetic or flowery, very nice to listen to actually. It's like being talked to from a hundred years ago."

"Shall I continue then, master?" she purred.

"If it's what you want. So what else can we go see before the next cycle closes? I can see the darkness already starting to fall."

The lesser demon shrugged and closed her eyes. "I could take you to your mortal friend, the one who has inside him bound another one of us."

"Who, Tom? I think he's got enough to worry about without me coming to put three oh one thirty in 'demean Tom mode' around him."

"I didn't mean that friend. I meant the one who nearly turned as you arrived."

Greg frowned and stopped moving with the servant. "Nearly...Harvey. Where is he?" Greg turned the lesser demon around and took her by the shoulders. "Where is Harvey?"

"Lyra said they were going to the gardens. I can show you."

They made their way quickly through the throngs of festival-goers and across a long boardwalk sitting at the waterline of a lake within the estate. Greg and his servant put hundreds of wooden planks underfoot until they reached a long island in the middle of the lake, where several demons sat along smooth, waving benches or strolled along a brick path.

Around the path bloomed hundreds of flowers, some as tall as five feet and in clusters that looked like loudspeakers mounted on green and brown poles. Vines crisscrossed the grass and sometimes stretched across the path. Sweet scents filled the air, and Greg felt like he needed to find a place to sit down the air was so cloying here.

"What the fuck is this place? It smells like aphrodisiacs," Greg said as he hurried down the path where he saw Harvey sitting on the ground with his servant nearby.

"This is the pleasure garden for demons who are not as...potent as others. This place helps them achieve the proper mood."

Great, Grag thought, it really is the aphrodisiac garden. When he reached Harvey, the agent remained motionless in the middle of a shallow pond, sitting on his knees with his fists clenched and pushed together in front of his navel just above the waterline. His naked body looked like a painted statue in the water, so still that Greg couldn't even tell if he was breathing or not from the edge of the pond.

Harvey's servant watched boredly from a bench beside the pond, legs cross and swinging one foot back and forth as she watched the agent meditating.

"Oh, another one of you. Can you tell me what he's doing?" she asked.

Greg held his hand down like he was telling a dog to sit. "Shut up!" he whispered harshly. "He's meditating."

"For what? He can't win." the lesser demon commented dryly, still swinging her foot without a care in the world.

Greg fumed, and held back a retort at full volume until he could collect himself again.

"He's done it four times before," he said finally in a low and calm tone, watching Harvey closely.

Harvey's left eye opened wide and his brow rose questioningly, like he was peeking to see if anyone was watching him. Greg's blood ran cold as he saw Harvey's iris wasn't brown like it usually was, but solid tan. The corner of Harvey's mouth turned up in a leer and then his eye closed again, squeezing shut like its twin.

"Told you," the woman said.

"He's fighting. He's always had to fight the bastard." Greg glared at the woman, but said nothing else as Harvey remained absolutely motionless. It was like this every time. Every attempt his demon made at taking control, Harvey would just drop into this state and meditate for hours on end until it was over.

He said it was like having to convince his mind to 'dreading naught the demon', and Greg had just come to terming it 'dreadnaught mode' for lack of a better description. Harvey's statuesque features hadn't always been this way. In earlier years, he would laugh and he had a set of lungs that only Tom would probably believe possible. That kid was the only agent Harvey had taken a liking to after his first time going into dreadnaught mode.

Harvey's eye opened again, and Greg's hopes soured as his pupil shrank to reveal a tan iris. Harvey's one open eye stared intently at Greg, pulling Harvey's mouth into a shit-eating grin on one side.

"I'm back, fuckface," it rasped in an exhausted voice. Harvey's eye snapped shut and he groaned painfully, "Oscar."

"What?" Greg leaned closer to Harvey, but the stone-still agent was silent again, focusing everything he had on keeping his demon from bubbling to the fore again. Greg swallowed with worry. "I'll get Oscar. I'll be back buddy, just hold on a little longer."

He turned to his servant and she jumped in surprise. "Yes, master?"

"Where is Oscar?"

"Who?" she tilted her head to the side questioningly.

Greg clenched his jaw. "I don't have time for twenty questions. Oscar. Oscar."

She didn't look any less confused. "Which human, master?"

"The one who can use magic," Greg almost shouted in frustration, only lowering his tone to a coarse growl at the last moment.

"I can find him for you," she replied quickly. They crossed the boardwalk almost at a dead sprint and ended up back at the festival grounds in some kind of tent that provided a safe haven from the bustling adventure outside. They had some trouble getting in, but as soon as it was brought to the guards' attention that Greg was from the human kingdom, they were readily led to where Oscar was.

In his spacious accommodation, Oscar was busy screwing his servant without relent, letting her ride him reverse-cowgirl as he panted and enjoyed every moment of it. He slapped her backside and caused the girl to jolt upright in shock.

"Master!" she admonished, causing him to grin widely.

"I thought you wanted it a little rough. Was I wrong?"

"We have company," his servant explained, turning her head to the intruders on their privacy. "Yes?"

"Howdy!" Oscar called, still grinning from ear to ear.

"We have need of your assistance," Greg's servant explained before the agent himself could speak. "Come with us."

Oscar's grin faded immediately. "If you can't see, I'm a little busy." He bucked up into the girl on top of his large frame and she went ramrod straight.

"Master!"

"You will be coming with us, now," the servant said, walking across the span between her and the pair before her.

Oscar sat up and growled, "Look, bitch, I'm not going anywhere. So you can get the fuck out before I decide to split your fucking head like an apple."

She didn't look intimidated at all, despite being far small than Oscar.

"Harvey's about to get possessed if you don't do something about it," Greg stated, watching Oscar's attention turn to him and his face go slack.

"Possessed? Well fuck, why didn't you say so! Where the fuck is he?" The Thirteenth Division agent quickly removed himself from his servant and threw on his pants. He followed Greg back to where Harvey was, still on his knees with his fists pressed together in front of his navel.

Greg was relieved nothing had happened yet, but the sweat all over Harvey's body made it clear that there wasn't much time left before either Harvey or his demon gave in. He didn't want to think what it would be like to have a Harvey that couldn't show any emotion or even smile anymore. It was hard enough to think about how he'd been before the first two breakouts compared to how he was now.

Oscar examined Harvey's still body for a while before getting his servant to prick the tip of his forefinger with a clawed talon. He drew something on the back of Harvey's neck in his blood and then started chanting in a hushed, quiet tone. He clenched his teeth together and muttered through them, furrowing his brow as his body tightened up like it was bound with rope.

"Why is it so important that your friend not be possessed? Could you not always force his demon back or out altogether afterwards?"

"Because it's not that simple. When Harvey gets possessed, it...changes him."

His servant looked at Harvey with a confused expression. "How so?"

"Look, I'll explain later. Right now I just need to see if he's okay, alright?" the agent replied more impatiently than he had meant to. Even so, the lesser demon took it as he'd meant and nodded slowly.

"As you wish. In your own time then," came the obedient reply. They watched Oscar do his work, both the occultist and the Second Division agent tightening visibly in pain and exertion.

After what seemed like hours, Oscar stepped away from Harvey and went to sit down on the nearby bench next to Harvey's servant, eying her approvingly. She rolled her eyes at him and continued to watch Harvey intently.

Tense, still moments passed with no change. Greg was almost ready to ask Oscar if he'd been successful, but before he could speak Harvey's eyes opened. A sigh of relief left the agent's mouth as he saw dark brown eyes staring into the water. Harvey's attention turned to Greg after a while and he smiled faintly, sweat pouring off his body.

"I nearly lost that time," he admitted quietly, though sounding pleased that his demon wasn't out on the loose again.

Greg nodded to Oscar. "Well thank him. Whatever he did helped."

Harvey turned to Oscar and nodded thankfully. "I owe you a lot."

"Puh-lease!" Oscar waved his hand like he was dismissing everything he'd heard. "All I did was tell his bitch ass to sit the fuck down and shut up. Not that it's not one of the hardest things a mortal body can endure, but whatever, no biggie."

Even though Greg didn't like the occultist's attitude about helping Harvey, he couldn't deny that it had been a huge boon. Harvey stood up slowly and collected his clothes, turning to his servant with a frown.

"He will kill you first if he gets out. There's nothing more he hates than being admired." With nothing left to say to her, Harvey left the small island and crossed the boardwalk without so much as a glance at anyone else. His servant followed several steps behind him, out of arm's reach.

Oscar decided that it was fine to just continue what he'd been doing earlier right here with his servant, and they fell into their fucking again on the bench that looked like it was curved to fit someone lying down on their back. Greg turned away from it and started the way Harvey had gone.

As he and his servant made their way across the wooden planks to the estate proper, she asked, "Why do you not simply exorcize the demon from him?"

"Because that demon has a grudge to settle against Harvey. He threatened to kill him if we made any attempts at an exorcism. At first we thought it was a bluff, but after what he did to Harvey the first time, we didn't try again."

"What did he do?" the lesser demon pressed.

Greg stopped walking and rolled around in his mind whether or not to tell her. A memory of Harvey singing his favorite song in a drunken stupor after an unusually difficult case subject came to mind. He'd stolen that from Harvey. He'd stolen him.

"The last two times he took over Harvey's body, when he was pushed back, he took a piece of Harvey with him. That quiet, collected guy before isn't the Harvey I knew for almost ten years. He used to be loud, laugh a lot, sing when he was drunk. He used to be an inspirational speaker, actually, before he joined the Special Divisions."

"He's robbing your friend of his soul," the servant stated with realization.

"That he is," came the reply, ending the conversation. Greg continued across the boardwalk in silence, shaking the growing feeling of remorse about Harvey's predicament. He wished he could do something for him. The grim reality that someday Harvey would be a vegetable housing a demon, in the best case scenario, wasn't a pleasant one.

------------ Later, North of the Glacis River, Hell ------------

Vendr's breath came out in thick, white clouds from his open mouth, evaporating into the wet air slowly as it curled towards the darkened sky. The end of the cycle was here, and he was afforded darkness for a long time before the last cycle before the Long Night began. During these long moments of darkness, besieging mountain forts like this one was made far easier than he had grown used to.

Although surprising the enemy wasn't his strong suit due to his size, almost complete darkness afforded him that ability now. He switched his axe to his right hand and shivered in the biting cold. Above him, the thick leaves and branches obscured the snowy sky. If a signal to retreat were to be sent up, he'd be totally oblivious. Not that it mattered much if his men were found, as they could probably fight their way out of anything.

Vendr stood from the forest floor and thought how vulnerable and obvious he must look in the dim light from the torches lining the wall of the fort before him. With no armor to clink and clank him into being heard, he wore only animal hide around his waist and a strap across his back to hold his axe when he needed both his hand for other things.

As quietly as he could manage, he crept forward through the thinning trees toward the fort, offset from the gate and the two guards posted in front of it. He admired these men for their bravery, futile bravery, but bravery nonetheless. They knew they were going to die; it was only a matter of when and how.

Behind the giant of a demon, Vendr's company followed him in almost complete silence, hauling three ladders with them through the trees and thick underbrush. Clad much the same as he was, they all seemed like children playing war in comparison to how they normally looked.

Vendr watched the archers patrolling the wall, meeting their keen eyes with hope that they wouldn't see him until he was in position to strike. Each time their eyes met his, he held his breath in anticipation. And each time, they continued on their route without raising any alarm. He neared the edge of the trees' cover and crouched low, narrowing his eyes to help lessen their reflections.