They Always Wait

Then a streak of purpose made it into my addled brain. Maybe the answer to getting rid of the demons was in this room. But where to start? It would take years, if not decades, to go through the entire collection. And with my luck, the writings weren't in English. I walked up to a shelf to check.

Yep. If it was a language popular before the reign of Constantine the First, it was represented. The Latin and Greek I could recognize, if not read. The Egyptian hieroglyphics were simple to recognize. There was stuff that looked like Hebrew or Sanskrit, but you couldn't prove it by me. Some of it looked like Norse runes. Books, scrolls, tablets, drawings of various kinds. Rows and rows and rows of Oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into?

I needed to focus. The demonology book and my father's notes had mentioned Talismans of Protection. Generally, they'd look like amulets, like the one I was wearing. There was a long table with many marble busts, each wearing something... necklaces, crowns, circlets, earrings even. There was everything from the gaudy to the simple. Somehow, I thought I was looking for simple.

I knew that amulet-style talismans were usually made from a gemstone reputed to have the kinds of properties you wanted, then carefully prepared according to certain rituals and various incantations placed on them. The final, activating spell had to be done while the talisman was exposed to the thing you wanted it to protect you from. That had to be a harrowing experience.

I knew from the book and notes that the amulet around my neck was a large Rubellite surrounded by chips of diamonds. The Rubellite was rare and allegedly effective against devils and demons. In my experience, quite a bit more than allegedly. The diamonds were supposed to impart invulnerability against the undead -- vampires and zombies and such. I spent a couple of hours cross-referencing what I saw before me on the table with what was in the book and notes. In the end, I had settled on three that I thought I would take with me. Provided I was allowed to.

The first was a large pale green Chrysoberyl, surrounded by small bits of pink Sunstone and green Malachite. If my information was correct, its primary purpose was protection from possession, with side attributes of protection from spells, evil spirits and poisons. That seemed pretty powerful, though I didn't know if it would apply to the demons. I wasn't anywhere near as well-versed in the occult as I should have been.

The second was a fairly large cabochon of an orange-red stone I took to be Carnelian. It was supposed to provide protection against evil. The third was a pale blue translucent stone that I took to be Chalcedony, with small Topaz and Serpentine chips around its edge, which I took to mean protection from undead and evil spells, and to enhance one's wile and cunning.

I had to keep forcing my attention back to the task at hand. There was so much here to explore and wonder at... hell, it would be easy to just stand there in awe. It took me close to three hours to focus in on the three amulets I wanted to take with me. They went in my messenger bag and with a sigh of disappointment, I forced myself to start looking for the way out. Finding the Roman Numeral XI in this place was going to be like literally looking for the needle in the haystack. If you didn't stick yourself with it, you weren't going to find it.

I spent half an hour on that pursuit until I once again realized I was being stupid.

"Okay, amulet," I addressed it. "How do I get out of here?"

At the far end of the room, an inverted pentagram blazed alight, point down over a large block of black Parian marble.

Oh, that's not good, I thought, not realizing the irony. Growing up I had heard conflicting stories about a five-pointed star with one of the points oriented straight down. It was either a representation of the Star of Bethlehem, pointing to Jesus' birthplace, a representation of the five wounds of Christ, or a Satanic symbol used in all kinds of profane rituals. Given where I was standing, I wasn't betting on it pointing to Jesus.

However, the amulet was aiming me its direction and so far, the amulet hadn't screwed me over. So I approached what I took to be some sort of altar, probably evil, and took a good look at the pentagram. I couldn't tell if there was some sort of material behind the light. It was simply suspended in mid-air over the block of black stone. When I looked where it was pointing, I saw the six Roman Numerals etched into the altar -- I, III, V, VII, XI and XIII. There were a lot of other etchings in the marble, but those six were the ones I cared about. I took the amulet and presuming it would work like before, I touched it to the number "I" with predictable results.

The feeling of icy, foggy tendrils enveloping me, the disorientation as my location shifted, the unsettling nausea as I reformed wherever I was, and finally the satisfying realization that I was back in the dungeon. Now I knew that I could travel between the house and the Vault with relative impunity. Again, someday I will learn not to think like that.

As soon as I could move, I exited the dungeon and made my way to my father's hidden study off the Mechanical Room, depositing the three amulets and thanking whatever powers were responsible for the demons not finding me. I had no idea if they moved about by day, of if their sense of time was the same as mine, or if this room actually did afford protection from their scrying. I knew they came to men... and women... in dreams, but I knew precious little else about these two consorts of Samael.

Securing the room behind me, I made my way to the kitchen, where I found that my sense of time had been distorted. It was several hours later than I thought, being about 8 o'clock in the evening. I presumed it was still Sunday. I had been ignoring my stomach's protests at not being fed, and as charged up as I had been, it hadn't been difficult. Now he was complaining vociferously. I supposed they could hear his grumbling all the way in town.

I looked in the cold box and found the remains of the steak and kidney pie, which when warmed on the stove made a fine meal. Some wine to go with it and help me relax, and soon I was much calmer. Calm enough start thinking about what was going to happen when I went to bed.

Those bitches will be at me, again, I thought, though this time with a wry smile. Well, so what? As long as I have the amulet on, they can't harm me, or possess me, or do anything besides exhaust me sexually in my sleep. Abigail isn't here, so they can't hurt her, or possess her like I think they did last night. So why not let them just have a romping good time?

Someday I will learn not to think like that.

I finished up dinner and spent some time cleaning up in the kitchen. I didn't see any reason to make more work for Abby than was necessary. I took a bottle of my soporific-laced wine up with me, mostly to see if the demons could make good on their promise to keep me from getting drugged up. I was confident that with each day of learning about them, I was gaining the upper hand. I somehow forgot that my father had a decade or more of learning about them before his demise. Or whatever it was that had happened to him. I was sure that being in possession of those vibrating rods gave me some kind of power over them, or at least, diminished their power over me. The protection talismans were another source of my cockiness. I just needed to protect Abigail somehow.

I took a long, hot shower before climbing into the fresh linens Abby had put on the bed. There was a nice smell to them I hadn't noticed before. I determined to daydream about her as I drank my wine, in the hope that I would fall asleep thinking about her and drugged enough to discourage the succubae. The daydreams worked wonderfully well as I fell out, stimulating images of Abby's awesome womanhood dancing in my head, giving me what felt like a mighty roaring jack. The drugs... not so well.

He's dreaming about her, again. That was Agrab. And he seems unusually confident, given what we put him through with his lady-love last night.

"Oh, hello, bitches!" I said it aloud, if only in the dream. "Ready to play?"

And he still has that damned amulet on, Ardat pointed out. So you want to play, young man? This last was directed at me.

"Oh, yeah, I do. You are fantastic fucks and I see no reason to avoid you, since you can't possess me and you can't kill me, and Abby isn't anywhere nearby for you to fuck with her, so yeah... I'd say 'do your worst' but what I really would mean is 'do your best'."

That sounds like a challenge, Sister, Agrat commented.

Oh, yes, it does, Sister... shall we?

Sure... what is your personal best, again, before insanity sets in?

Thirty-five, Ardat pointed out. But that was with newlyweds who were already primed. Two of us, with a single victim? I think we could improve on that... and besides, I've neutralized all the narcotics, soporifics and sedatives I could find. He should taste just fine...

Neutralized the drugs? Oh, oh...

They proceeded to give me a lesson in humility. Oh, they started with their usual, one fellating me, one sitting on my face, forcing me to cunnilingate her, but I was ready for them this time. I was already primed with all the awesome thoughts of Abby and responding to these two was like falling off a log. I lost track of the number of times I came, in their mouths, cunts, asses and on their skin, around number sixteen.

The reason I lost track was because number seventeen changed my world. Agrat was fellating me when Ardat knelt between my legs and pushed them up and apart. Leaning down, her long, forked, serpent-like tongue began probing my backscuttle, tripping me over and making me spend in Agrat's mouth, hard. And before I was even done cumming, Ardat pushed up against me and the next thing I knew, she'd grown a goober and it was up my arse! I'd never been split like that, not even back at Saint Egregious where some really weird shyte went on. And the thing that really turned my reality topsy-turvy was the fact that it felt good to get buggered.

In fact, that bitch kept banging away at me and making me shoot over and over, so that everything got kind of fuzzy, and yes, it was a dream, allegedly, but even in the dream my body was being tormented with pleasure. In fact, I think the only difference between the dream and waking was my desire that it be a dream. Eventually, I did lose consciousness in the dream and therefore in the entirety of my reality.

* * * * *

[Monday]

"Oh, my, sir! They were back, weren't they?"

Abby's voice penetrated the fog of my sleep and brought me 'round fairly quickly. I opened my eyes and saw her in her utilitarian smock laying the tray of breakfast on the table in its usual spot. I also realized that once again I was sprawled out naked amid a disaster of bedding and sporting a bit wood. I grabbed a sheet and pulled it over my groin.

"Oh, you needn't be embarrassed, Mr. Fitzgerald, sir," she went on as she finished arranging breakfast. "I'll be down in the kitchen when you need me. Don't worry about the linens or towels, sir. I'll get them after you're up."

"Abby, look," I hurried to apologize, "I am really so sorry about Saturday night, or yesterday morning, or whatever it was..."

"Was I really that bad?" she asked, catching me off-guard. "I mean, I know it was my first time and all, but I thought we did rather well together, even if I wasn't completely in control of myself."

"Abby, I... what?"

"I think you are a very good lover, Mr. Fitzgerald. I'm glad you were my first. I'll be downstairs when you need me." She turned and walked out while my brain was still trying to find something to say.

I shook myself out of my shock and went to climb out of the bed, to head for the bath, when I realized my backside was very sore. Just moving hurt. How can a dream hurt you? I wondered as I gingerly made my way through my morning ablutions. And I wonder if the chemist has a pain ointment for my anus? And how do I go about asking him for it? Without starting all sorts of rumors...

I managed to get cleaned up and a bite to eat, then took the rest of the tray and limped down to the kitchen where Abby was washing dishes.

"You do not look good, sir," she informed me. "Are you injured? Shall I ring for the doctor?"

"Abby, we need to talk," I told her as I eased down at the kitchen table.

"I hope so, sir," she told me, then went back to her washing.

"About the other night," I fumbled along, "I never meant to force... I mean, I said I wouldn't seduce you and I meant it... I never wanted to hurt you... there's strange things in this house, and I'm just starting to understand..."

"You mean like a couple of very sexy women-spirits that invaded my dreams and compelled me to follow my desires and rape you?" she asked in turn. I was flabbergasted. "Although it really did feel more like making love. I should thank you, sir, for being the gentleman and the perfect man to rid me of my pesky maidenhead. I didn't know if it was real or dreamt until I was doing the laundry the next morning and saw the blood stains.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I should be the one apologizing to you for forcing you to have carnal relations with me. Though I was a virgin, I could not have asked for a better man to help me transition to my womanhood."

"Abby," I protested, "you were already a woman, long before we um..."

"Fucked out brains out, sir?" she asked, and I could see that irreverent smile I dearly loved.

"Yes," I told her. "And I want you to know that I won't be trying to take advantage of you, again. I've been researching ways to protect you from those demons."

"That's too bad," she answered, mostly to herself, I think.

"Excuse me?" I didn't want to mishear her.

"I mean, I know you're the Lord and Master of the Estate and all, sir," she explained. "And I'm just a serving girl. But you should know that I wouldn't be adverse to a bit of leggins now and then. More now than then, I suppose."

"You mean, you would like to, um...?"

"Yes, sir, I would. If it isn't too much of an embarrassment, being with a servant."

"An embarrassment? Uh, no, Abby, that's not an issue. There's some things I need to tell you, and show you, when you're at a stopping point. And if we're going to be intimate, I wish you would stop calling me 'sir' and 'Mr. Fitzgerald'. It seems much too formal."

"I cannot do that, sir," she told me. "Not while I'm working for you. It's one of the few proprieties I won't violate. You are the Lord of the Manor and I'm your housekeeper. Sir."

I sighed. I knew how ingrained that deference could be. Maybe by the time we were done, she'd be more partner than domestic staff. "If you would, I could use another cup of coffee while you finish up," I told her and she had it in front of me promptly, along with the bowl of sugar cubes and a spoon.

"I have a question, sir," she told me as she was finishing up.

"Yes?"

"Can two people be an orgy, sir?"

"Can what?"

"Can two people be an orgy? I told you there were rumors of ghosts, cannibals and profane orgies. You said there weren't ghosts or cannibals. As good as you were, I'm wondering if two of us made a profane orgy?"

"I don't think the two of us could make a profane anything," I told her. "But it wasn't just two of us."

"It felt like just the two of us."

"Oh, trust me... they were there, watching. Maybe even possessing you. Especially Ardat."

"Who, sir?"

"Ardat Lili. I'll explain when you're ready to take a walk with me."

"Yes, sir," she told me, then moments later dried off her hands and said, "ready, sir."

"Then come on with me, Abby. Once we're in a particular place, I'll lay it out for you."

She was content with that and accompanied me down to the Mechanical Room, where I opened my father's secret study. She was duly impressed, but even more so when we entered. She was looking around, almost spellbound, as I closed and secured the door.

"What is this place, sir?" she asked in awe.

"A special place my father built to research the family demons without them being able to interfere. Essentially, a 'safe room' shielded from demons. Sit down, Abby... I have a lot to tell you."

She moved to one of the chairs at the central table and sat down, looking at me expectantly.

"My family is cursed, Abby," I began. I didn't see any reason to sugarcoat it. "The curse goes back centuries at least. I haven't yet found a definitive family history that would explain it all to me. You've seen the number of books in the library upstairs... and then there's all these... it is a daunting task. Regardless, we're haunted -- if that's the right word -- by a couple of succubae who target the Lord of the Manor and incidentally anyone nearby when it suits their purposes. They are ancient and they are powerful, but they are not infallible. This red amulet I wear is one of their nemeses. I'll explain about the amulets in a minute.

"I wasn't lying when I said ghosts and cannibals weren't a problem. As far as I can tell, from what little research I've been able to do, demons aren't ghosts or cannibals. There is some question as to whether they are considered undead or not, but they are definitely evil. The reason this makes a difference is because of these amulets..." I laid the three I'd brought back on the table in front of her.

"There is a vast storehouse of magical treasure in a vault accessible from this house and I brought these three talismans back from there, along with a couple of books. My hope is, they can give you protection against Agrat and Ardat, my two succubae. A huge problem for me is, most of the books I can find on the arcane are written in something other than English... usually Latin or Greek, or maybe Hebrew... I'm not very good at languages." I laid two books in front of her.

"As you can see, in some cases multiple languages have been used..." She picked up one of the books and opened it.

"Oh, this is Latin," she told me. "Spells Concerning the Invocation of Spirits and Geasing..." she read. "In order to perform the following summoning, one must prepare..."

"WHOA! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop. Stop-stop-stop..." I took the book gently from her hands, closed it and set it down. "Let's just leave that one alone for now, okay? I'm very glad you read Latin."

"You don't?" she asked. "They made us study it in school. Along with Greek and Aramaic for the Classical languages and French, Spanish and German for the modern languages. You couldn't graduate without being proficient. They had optional courses for the truly gifted, in hieroglyphics and Demotic script, and Sanskrit and Arabic. I wasn't quite that ambitious."

"Well, America doesn't work the same way, and that's where I went to school," I told her, rather defensively. "But that means you can help with this..." I slid the other book in front of her. "It has a bunch of colored drawing of various talismans and text I can't read. I know some gemstones are supposed to have particular protective qualities, which is why I picked these three, but if you could find them in this book and tell me what it says, it would go a long way to easing my mind."

"Certainly, sir!" she said brightly. She wasn't nearly as afraid as she should have been. She began paging through the book, comparing the pictures to the amulets until she got her first hit.

"This," she said, holding up the chrysoberyl necklace, "is a match for something called the Star of Ranfaing, from sometime around 1620 AD. According to the book, it was created by a priest named de Sancy, and it is supposed to protect against spiritual or demonic possession."