The HarvestbyMary Riley©
The woman sat in her chambers tapping one long nail against the table with impatience. Halariya tuned out the sound of screams as they echoed from under the door. Raising a brow to the door, she reached for the folder on the other side of the table. Taking a peek at the assignment was against the rules, but obviously if she was sitting in these chambers, it would appear that she had problems following rules to begin with.
No sooner than her slender hand had opened assignment, the sound of the door being unlocked filled the room. Jerking her hand back innocently, Halariya hoped that her curiosity had evaded the tall, darkly clad man who entered.
Looking at her with an arched brow, he picked the folder up and opened it. Licking the tips of his fingers he turned a few pages before looking up at her.
“Do you even know why you are here, Halariya?” He asked her in a sarcastic tone.
“Nope. I can’t say I do. Wait a minute . . . I’m getting a vision . . . ” The red headed woman touched her fingers to her temples mockingly “ . . . a vision of you telling me so I can get the hell out of here.”
The colossus balding man, known only as “Marru”, shot her a look of irritation.
“Keep on and we will send you up there.” He pointed upwards. “Though I doubt they are any more prepared to deal with a pestilence such as you. Now, back to business.” Marru continued with a sigh. The demon made it no secret that he wished this meeting to be over with.
“The Harvest is approaching. During the Harvest you have to prove yourself to our Master. You will be given an assignment that must be completed in the earthly realm within 12 hours. If you fail, Halariya, what is left of your pitiful soul will be first cast into the lake of fire. After we are satisfied with your suffering, your soul will be devoured.” He smiled diabolically. “Poof! No more Halariya! Understood?”
“Yes. I understand. Why do I have to do this?” She asked with utmost discontent.
“Probably because we have watched you hang around here for two hundred years now, moping, shuffling your feet, making snide remarks, and doing nothing more than, frankly, getting in our way. If you are worth a shit, you need to prove it. Do a good job, and you may even get a rank down here.” Murru threw the folder onto the table.
Halariya starred at the closed assignment in front of her, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Well! Open it and get started!” Marru yelled while growling and throwing open the door.
She jumped slightly as it slammed closed.
“What a queen. All that’s just not necessary.” Halariya muttered under her breath while retrieving the folder and opening it. With a snarl, she began to read the assignment.
“For the Harvest, Halariya needs to complete an assignment to prove herself to the society of the underworld and the Master, otherwise she will no longer be allowed to exist within our world.
The assignment must be completed in 12 Outland hours. In that time she is to find a pure soul, one untouched by evil and corrupt it. It has to be done in such a way that the soul will be guaranteed to the Master, and eventually delivered.
If completed, she will be rewarded generously. If she fails, she will be terminated to the most severe degree allowed by the code of the underworld.”
Halariya closed the folder that held her fate tightly in her hand and sighed. Deep down she doubted herself, but the thought of burning and being devoured didn’t exactly hold much appeal. Troubled, yet determined, she left the meeting room and headed to her own chambers to prepare for her mission.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, plans ran through her mind, one by one only squashed by her logic. This needed to be special. Something outrageous that would get her foot in the door. The goal was to be right by the Master’s side. That’s what every woman down here wanted.
Sure, it wouldn’t be of Holocaust proportions, but she would make sure it was something that would not be forgotten so easily.
Slipping into her humanly attire, she chose a black, fitted business suit. A black mini skirt instead of the pants made a remarkable improvement. The thigh highs and heels that Halariya added to the getup put the finishing touches on. Halariya slicked back her blood red hair, pinning it into a perfect round bun. No makeup was needed, for a touch up to her own natural beauty was only a finger snap away. One of the perks of being damned and on an assignment. You get anything you want or need, as long as the job gets done.
Most men, after looking at the image starring back at her in the mirror, would be burning in the fires of hell by the morning. That the demoness was confident of.
Smiling to herself one last time in the mirror, Halariya slipped out of her chambers. She waved and nodded cordially to the two men that ran “the rack” in the main hall.
“Is that a new one, Harvey?” She pointed a stiff finger at the guy screaming with pain while his limbs were being stretched.
“Yep. Just got him in this morning. Listen to him cry like a little sissy girl!” The burly man said while jerking the lever hard once more, causing the tormented man to cry out in piercing pain.
“You’re doing a good job, keep it up.” Halariya gave him an optimistic thumbs up and strolled down through the dark passage ahead. In the darkness she could only hear the sound of her stiletto heels clicking along the damp cobblestones. Up ahead a faint light showed from underneath a rather large door. Halariya gave the big heavy obstacle a push and listened with relief as the rusty hinges squealed open.
Brushing herself off, Halariya stepped out of the rather large furnace in the steel mill. Being that this was the first time since her arrival into hell that she had ventured out into the world again, she just had to snicker aloud.
“Oh yeah, that so creative. The entrance to hell is in a furnace. Am I the only one that sees the irony and lack of originality in this?” She said between chuckles.
From the great rusted monumental furnace behind her, a far off chorus of growls echoed.
Halariya’s laughter faded.
“Alright! I’m going!” She yelled in response.
Halariya darted her way around hunks of machinery and scrap metal while searching for a way out. The place was nothing more than a vast metal-littered trap that was helping to waste what little time she had. Stopping and placing her hands on her hips, she took time to collect her thoughts.
“Now . . . if I were a door . . . where would I be?” She grumbled while her black eyes shifted from side to side. “Ha! There you are. Thought you could slow me down, did you?” Halariya’s long strides brought her to the door within seconds. One swift kick and the padlocked door flew off the hinges and landed on the grass outside the building. The sunlight made her eyes ache as she stepped out into the world, cursing the big ball of fire in the sky for all it was worth.
After walking down a small sidewalk and turning a corner, Halariya found herself walking along a busy street. Things had changed so very much since she had been in the Outlands. Of course she had heard stories of modern technology, cars, television. In fact hell had more than its share of television and radio personalities. Halariya stood looking at all the hustling people moving about around her, hurried like cattle to a slaughter. She couldn’t feel sorry for them. In the end the inconsiderate bastards bring everything on themselves.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you going to buy something or just stand there blocking my business?” the street peddler behind her asked rudely.
Harlariya spun around and leaned forward across his table to stare at him. The young black man seemed to turn a few shades pale when looking into her cold black eyes.
“Bitch! Something’s wrong with yo’ ass. Get the hell away from me!” He scampered backwards.
The demoness simply grabbed a pair of dark sunglasses out of the little stock pile that covered the table and put them on. Before leaving, Halariya tipped them down on her nose to intimidate the frightened man further.
“See you soon, bitch.” The redhead mocked threateningly with a wide smile before turning on her heel to walk off. She could hear his orchestration of footsteps echoing away from her direction and the people objecting as he clumsily bumped into one after another.
Halariya meandered along the city streets. All the while her sights were set on a target, but not just any target. There had to be something she could do that had not been done before. Something that would secure her name in hell for eternities to come.
Person after person passed, but she could feel corruption seeping from their very pores. With each passing they seemed to get worse. Something had to be done, because it was now more than obvious that in the next century, hell was going to be a very full place.
Halariya snarled a bit as she watched a little balding man topping hotdogs and handing them to the hungry people on their lunch breaks. It was then that a vision of greatness slapped her square in the face.
An enormous Catholic Church looming over the small, bent over man like God himself. It was larger than life right in front of her. Glancing over at the sign on the door, she could see there was no service going on at the moment.
Halariya strolled up the steps and walked right through the carved wooden doors. The place was beautiful, that she couldn’t deny. It was a hell of a lot fancier than what she was accustomed to these days.
From each corner a marble figure of an apostle watched the intruder with colorless, accusing eyes. Crosses with and without Jesus adorning them hung in scatter places. The same icons judged the demon from high above trapped in stained glass. The quiet in the church was a vexing contrast to the screaming and cursing of hell. Or the screaming and cursing from the world just outside the wooden doors for that matter.
There were footsteps sounding faintly from a corridor leading out toward the pews. Halariya dashed behind a large arrangement of lavender and white flowers. Parting a few of the flowers with her fingers, she watched as a young priest walked up to the altar and picked up a bible. He stopped momentarily, as if he sensed someone in the church. Shrugging one shoulder lightly, he dismissed the feeling and began to walk away.
Halariya arched one slender brow as she watched the young servant of God. Even under the white collar and black clothing, his physical beauty stunned her. He reminded her a lot of the Master himself. Tall, lean physique the jet-black hair that was slicked back due to needing a haircut. The only difference between the two is that the priest had eyes that were blue with all of heaven’s promises, as opposed to the Master’s two coal-black orbs.
Narrowing her eyes, she watched as he opened the door and disappeared down a flight of steps. Halariya’s mission had found a mark. Sure that the coast was clear, Halariya darted out from her hiding place. She rushed up the door and touched the knob. The priest’s scent clung to the air like a warm summer breeze. The demoness could smell his innocence stronger than the burning flesh and brimstone that she had known only hours before.
Opening the door slowing, she glanced down the flight of stairs. Not seeing him anywhere in the immediate vicinity, she descended the staircase quietly. Sniffing the air, Halariya caught his scent once more and began to follow. Through a half-opened door she could see him sitting in a chair reading his bible studiously. Smiling evilly, Halariya gathered a plan to get his attention in her head. She would play upon his good soul to get what she wanted. His saintly ways would be his downfall.
“Help! Someone help me!” the woman’s voice called out pleadingly.
Father Byron bolted out of his chair as the calls for help startled him. Placing his bible down on the mantle he rushed out of the door and looked around frantically for the woman whose voice had called out.
“Hello? Where are you? Are you hurt, miss?” He yelled back in return. When she answered, he could follow the sound of her voice.
“I’m down here . . . I’m at the bottom of the stairs. I fell . . . I think I’ve broken something. Please help me!” The woman’s pain filled voice urged.
The priest rushed down the hallway until he could see the fallen figure of a red-haired woman in a business suit lying flat on her back, one knee curled up to her chest while she massaged her ankle. A pair of broken sunglasses lay beside her. A tear ran down her cheek from her tightly closed eyes.
“Please . . . it hurts.” She whimpered.
“Why did you come down here, ma’am? You could have rang the bell upstairs or sat patiently. I’m sure one of the other fathers would have come through. This area is supposed to be restricted to the public.”
She couldn’t believe it. Playing the damsel in distress and being lectured by a fucking priest. All in a day’s work.
“I’m sorry. I saw you go down the stairs and I tried to catch you before you shut the door, I guess you didn’t hear me calling you.” Halariya felt a twinge of relief as the lie flowed off of her wicked tongue effortlessly.
“Well, I suppose we’ll worry about all of that later. Let’s get you somewhere so you can sit down and prop your leg until I can find someone to come and help us. Do you think you’ll need a paramedic?” Father Byron asked thoughtfully, his flawless dark blue eyes flashing with concern.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I should try to walk on it.”
Oh yeah, she was laying it on thick.
“Here, let me have your arm, miss.” The priest wrapped her slender arm around his neck and assisted her to her feet.
“Owwww!” Halariya howled convincingly with pain. “I need to sit down.”
“Well, just walk with me a few more steps over here and I’ll find you a chair, okay?” He assured her. The unsuspecting young man staggered with the tall redhead a few more steps until they reached a table. “Here, lean against this and I will find you a chair.”
“No, that’s okay father. I think I’ll be all right now.” She smiled at him and put her weight on the injured foot. “I’ve never felt better, but you . . . ” Halariya flipped a finger coyly under his chin “ . . . you are about to become a different story.” The woman looked him directly in the eyes for the first time.
“Excuse me?” He blinked twice as though he had not heard her correctly. Father Byron’s eyes then met Halariya’s and the grown man let out a shrill yelp of terror.
“Oh come on, I’m not that bad, Father.” She smiled wickedly as he turned to run. “Don’t make me chase you. Wasting time is not in my agenda.”
Father Byron was only allowed to take a few steps before the demoness raised one hand and pointed at him. The man froze in mid stride instantly.
“Being a servant of God constitutes being deaf to the wants and wishes of those around you, I suppose.” Halariya neared him slowly, the sound of her heels clicking with each confident step. She stopped only inches from him. The priest’s eyes shifted from side to side rapidly, though he could not speak. The look of horror on his face was enough. Halariya leaned forward with her nose only inches from his own just for added effect. Waving her hand in front of him, the man began to walk toward the table, though not of his own accord. Father Byron’s voice was muffled and caught by the prison of his own tightly closed lips as he tried to speak.
“Now what?” She growled at him as he came to a halt next to the table that he had helped her to earlier.
Suddenly the priest could speak.
“God will reprimand you for all the evil you do and send you back to hell where you belong. Scarlet whore . . . ” he babbled something more about the three headed serpent before Halariya yawned mockingly and waved her hand once more to silence him. “Don’t you people ever get tired of all that nonsense?” The demoness placed a hand on her hip. “You realize your book is nothing more than a historical document that over the years was passed down from hand to hand and corrupted with old legends and prophecy. Not to mention all the mental cases that were named Saints just because they heard voices and saw things before the discovery of Lithium.” She raised a brow curtly.
The priest’s face turned red with anger as he tried to speak, but to no avail. Halariya meandered slowly over to the priest and stopped directly in front of his rigid body. The fact that he was completely and utterly helpless began to excite her. The man was considered to ultimate forbidden fruit for her kind. The woman could smell innocence flowing from him like the sweet scent of ripe fruit. He had obviously devoted his life to God very early on.
“You have never touched a woman, have you father?” Halariya slid one of her long legs up against his suggestively.
The look of outrage the young man shot her way was all the answer she needed.
Halariya pushed the handsome priest backward onto the table. She forced his hands up above his head, one over the other where they remained held fast by some invisible force. The demoness purred in a most content manner while with her sharp nails, she began shredding the priest’s clothing.
Tears ran down the innocent man’s cheeks as he now lay on the table with only fragments of shredded clothing hanging to his lithe body. The face and natural boyish beauty of his form reminded her of a Greek sculpture.
“Don’t cry, Father. I am about to take you closer to heaven than you’ve ever known.” With that she pressed her lips against his, forcing her tongue into his mouth.
Halariya then stood up on the table, standing directly over the priest so that he could get a good glimpse of what was hidden beneath her little skirt. Smiling down at him, she rubbed her hand up her thigh and moved her panties aside with her finger. Father Byron tried to turn his head, but the hell maiden’s powers kept him right where she wanted him, which for the moment was looking at the first woman’s crotch he had ever lain eyes on. He began to feel a shameful stirring in his loins and took a couple of deep breaths. Halariya just giggled at his attempts to calm himself and slipped the panties off. Enticing him, she sat on his chest and leaned back. Looking down, only inches away he could see the moisture glistening off of the wonder that, until this day, he had deprived himself.
Still the priest tried to clear his mind and fight the urges and temptation that the demoness was presenting to him forcefully.
Halariya looked at the handsome priest and snarled with disgust. He was still, for the most part, flaccid. Maybe this was going to be a little harder than she thought. The woman simply hated effort, and time was ticking away.
Halariya reached down, wrapping her hand around his limp member. An unnatural heat emitted through her hand as she touched him. After the first passing of her hand, the massive erection was undeniable. By the forth stroke his back arched up off of the table and his muffled cries echoed throughout the basement of the church as his seed gushed from the enormous tip of his jerking manhood and soaked his stomach and the dark patch of hair around it.
“You’ve been holding back for a while haven’t you?” She smiled. “Such a good little priest that you didn’t even touch it in secret after your mind was made up to devote your life to him. Tisk, tisk.” Halariya loved the way his face turned red when he was angry. Such passion and fire this man had, only to waste it on the Clergy. “What a shame. You are delicious. I would make such a pet out of you.” The redhead pressed another kiss against his lips as he looked up at her with utter contempt and helplessness.
“Lover, don’t looks so relieved yet. I’m not finished with you by any means.” She winked at him.
Her warmed hand found him again, as he whimpered with protest. This time Halariya only touched him maybe twice, only enough for him to become erect once more. The demoness straddled him and placed the head of his massive erection close to her slippery opening.