To Hell and Back Again Ch. 11

If you have read Chapter 10 then you probably know already, but for everyone else, be warned that this is not a happy chapter. This is the proverbial "darkest before the dawn" moment in every Hero's Journey that comes just before the serious ass-kicking begins.

Thanks again for all the kind words and encouragement. As always, your comments and observations are most welcome.

*****

"Karen?" Logan gathered her gently into his arms. "Karen, can you hear me?"

Her dark eyes fluttered open. "I don't feel right," she whispered. "Hurts."

"You're going to be fine."

He pressed a wad of bandage against the bullet wound in her belly. There was, of course, no blood to soak up. Mist continued to seep out around the edges. Did first aid even work on damned souls? He had no clue.

"You can't die, my girl. You know why?"

"No, why?"

"Because you are already dead, silly." Logan forced a smile onto his lips and swallowed against a rising tide of dread. "There is nowhere to go now but up. So, you just tell me what you need to start getting better, ok?"

"Cold," Karen mumbled. Her eyes drifted shut.

"Stay awake, Karen!" Logan barked at her. "Stay with me!"

Her eyes opened, but slower than the last time. As he watched, Logan could see the color and vitality draining out of her complexion, like a modern television show slowly bleeding to black and white. Karen looked up at him, then at Beauty, and smiled that lovely smile he had come to know so well.

"I love... you both."

"No." Logan watched, helpless, as the last of the color drained away. Karen's shape wavered. Mist poured from her mouth and, quite suddenly, she was gone. Logan was holding only empty clothes in his arms. "No!"

"You gave her hope and a reprieve from the misery of this place. Take some comfort in that."

Logan turned to stare at the Hell Hound that had, somehow, spoken in his head. Beauty was still facing off with the beast, claws out and snarling in anticipation of a bloody fight.

"What the fuck are you?" Logan demanded.

"There is no need to speak out loud." The voice echoed in his skull as the beast casually sat and began to scratch behind one ear with a hindfoot. "In fact, it is best that you say nothing aloud about our ability to communicate at all. Especially in front of the Succubus. For your safety and mine."

"Can you understand me?" Logan thought at the Hell Hound.

"Yes, but your thought projection is weak. It will improve with practice."

"Good," Logan silently replied. "Then piss off so I can mourn the loss of my friend."

"Of course." The beast rose, ambled past the snarling Succubus, and toward the cavern entrance to the outside world. "I will be outside whenever you wish to speak further."

Beauty watched the beast leave. She looked at her lover with confusion in her golden eyes. "Logan... weird. Fucking weird."

He offered only a weary nod in response. It could wait. It could all wait. Nothing mattered to him now except the empty clothes laying crumpled on the cavern floor. Beauty knelt beside him and plucked at the shirt. "Karen gone?"

He nodded. "Yes. Karen is... is gone." He raised the shirt to his face but the shirt was too new to even carry her scent on it. That too was forever gone. A small piece of metal fell out of the shirt to the floor.

"How?" the Succubus asked. "Beauty not... I do not understand."

Silently, Logan picked up the bullet that had taken Karen from them and showed it to her. This is on me. I failed her. Failed to keep her safe.

The adrenalin began to wear off, leaving him shaky and weak. Every cut and wound began to pulse and scream across his battered body. Blood still spattered on the ground from his many wounds. He did not remember falling.

*****

Logan woke to the pulsing agony of countless wounds. His eyes were slow to focus as he opened them to look down at Beauty's wealth of white hair and feel the soft, warm touch of her tongue licking one of his wounds. He was naked except for yards of bandage wrapped around his many injuries.

His first thought was Beauty must be hungry again but it was clear that this wasn't about feeding. There was nothing about her behavior that indicated such a need. In truth, Logan had never seen her behave this way before. He looked around to ask Karen for an explanation.

Oh my God... Karen. Memory returned with a pain deeper than flesh. Her loss was a wound that no bandage could mend. One that would never heal. Grief and guilt lay heavy on his chest, weighing against his every breath.

"Your demon is giving back some of the Essence she receives from feeding on you," the Hell Hound offered. "To speed your healing."

"Get out of my head," Logan snarled in his mind. *Now is not the time."

"Actually Cousin, while your demon lover is distracted is the perfect time for you and me to talk."

"Beauty is not the enemy here. If anyone is, it's you."

"I never claimed that she was the enemy, but allow me to offer a word of warning. Long ago, humans could not accept responsibility for the evil they did to each other. It must be, they decided, the fault of outside forces. Thus, demons came to exist to represent the many evils humans were, and continue to be, tempted and driven to commit to each other, to the planet, and even to yourselves."

The Hound paused to let that sink in.

"Of the many temptations that plague humans, none are stronger than sex, and all that comes with it including affection, validation of self through another, procreation... and even love. No emotion is more dangerous for your kind. Thus, no demon is more dangerous than the Succubus. Not for the harm she would do to you, but because of the harm you would do to yourself in the name of love."

"That's not... I don't..." Beauty looked up at him with concern. Logan smiled and struggled to control both his breathing and his rising anger.

"I am not suggesting she means you harm," the Hell Hound gently prodded. "Only that she is a demon and this is Hell. In other words, proceed with caution, Cousin."

"Why do you keep calling me Cousin? Who or what are you?"

"Grandfather Bear was worried about you but the big lug is anything but subtle. He could never sneak into this realm to find you without alerting every demon across all nine Circles of Hell. Thus, he required the services of someone a little more... sly."

It all clicked into place for Logan. All his grandfather's tribal stories and legends came rushing back. "You are the Coyote spirit, the trickster."

"The one and only." Logan could "hear" the mischievous grin in his head. "And that little secret needs to stay just between the two of us, Cousin. I am way deep into enemy territory here, so I'm relying on you to keep my true nature a secret. Discovery would lead to a terrible reckoning for us both."

"Alright, I will," Logan promised. "For now."

"Good enough," the Hell Hound that was not a Hell Hound replied. "For now. When you are done frolicking with your demon and have looted the bodies of our enemies, I will do you the courtesy of dragging the fallen out for the wildlife to feed on."

"You do that," Logan thought back.

"But know one more thing before I leave you. You did well to hide in this cavern for as long as you did. Even I could not find you... at first."

"However, when I overheard a rumor about demons vanishing in the waste, I suspected it might be your doing, so I replaced the Hell Hound in a hunting party. We found you, and if we did, eventually others will as well. The enemy knows a threat now lurks in the wastelands. Sooner or later, more will come for you."

"Just... go away and leave us alone. Please." Logan refused to think about more blood and violence as he felt Coyote's presence fade from his mind. He would have to eventually, but it could wait. For the moment, it was only him and Beauty.

Karen's absence was a painful reminder of what they had lost. She had been a friend and a lover to them both, and now she was gone. Once again, it was just him and Beauty, alone against a hostile world. Whatever happened next, he had only that one truth, that one comfort to cling to. Logan had her and she had him. Come what may, they would face it together.

Logan gathered her up into his arms, burying his face into her hair. She rested her cheek against his shoulder with a weary sigh. They lay together in the deep silence of shared grief for a long time.

In time, she leaned up to brush her lips against his. Slowly, almost timidly, Beauty began to explore his mouth with her lips and tongue. Logan reached up with his unwounded arm to brush her hair back from her face and look into her eyes.

"Are you hungry? I think I can manage..."

Beauty silenced him with a kiss. "Not hungry." She traced a fingertip over his lips as if trying to memorize the shape of them. The Succubus looked up at him with a wounded expression.

"Almost lost you. Thinking about Karen... hurts. Beauty not understand."

Logan swallowed at the lump in his throat and blinked back against the sting of tears. It was hard to speak and when he did, his voice was choked. "I hurt too. It's called grief, sweetheart."

Beauty nodded. "I make better then."

If only it were that easy, he thought.

Still, he understood that this was her nature. In her world, sex was the answer to almost everything. To deny her that would only make her feel even worse. And in truth, perhaps she had the right idea.

Logan realized that he desperately wanted her too. Not for any physical need, but simply for the soothing comfort of her touch and the welcome distraction of her immeasurable charms. A sweet pleasure to wash away the pain, if only for a brief time.

She began kissing her way down his neck and trailing her fingers down his torso, careful to avoid his wounds. When he reached out for her, Beauty gently pushed his arm back down to his side.

"Logan rest," she smiled. "Beauty make better."

He was not inclined to argue. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak and beat to hell. Quiet enthusiasm was the best he had to offer her.

Beauty seemed to understand this. Like so very many things, the Succubus seemed to instinctively comprehend and respond accordingly. Her touch was gentle and unhurried. Her kisses feather soft as she slowly worked down his body. Even as his shaft began to respond and rise, she paid it no attention, content to languidly explore over his torso, hips, and legs.

Logan could only lay there and marvel at this wondrous creature, this lover and friend that he had, by some miracle, been lucky enough to meet. Without a word, she knew just what to do. She understood him better than any lover he had ever known.

Eventually, she moved back up his body, sliding her breasts up his thighs in a delicious wash of silken, female flesh. Her breath was a warm whisper of anticipation along the length of his swelling desire. The tip of her tongue traced a thin line of sweet fire from the base of his shaft, all the way up to trace around the perineum.

Logan closed his eyes and let the pleasure of her touch roll over him. He gasped as her lips gently closed over the swollen head. Moaned as she began to kiss, and lick, and eventually take him deeper. Only to withdraw and start again.

How long this went on he could not say. Time lost all meaning. Dangers and grief, anger and confusion, all washed away beneath slow waves of pleasure. The very moment he would he begin to feel the need for release, Beauty would back off.

How she had changed! The horns growing longer on her head only hinted at the remarkable evolution of her boundless potential. Gone was the mute, sex-hungry, wolf-child that had attacked him so long ago.

His body was her instrument. His desire was her music, and she played it with unmatched skill, endless patience, and unmistakable joy. Beauty's every soft, blissful moan of pleasure at the taste and texture of his body sent pulses of desire through his heated flesh.

After what felt like an eternity, Beauty released him from her oral expertise. The cavern air on his wet, rigid flesh was almost chilly after the hot sheath of her throat. He opened his eyes and looked to see what else she had in mind.

Beauty stood and straddled his hips. Bending her knees, she lowered her body and reached down to align his shaft with the purple folds of her sex. He watched his length enter her body, felt the hot sheath of her sex close around him.

And there she stopped. Logan watched in amazement as she began to raise and lower her body with only the strength of her thighs. Every inch of her delightful body, and their union of flesh, was on intimate display to his hungry eyes in an astonishing display of athletic prowess.

She looked deep into his eyes, riding him slow and steady. Flexing her strong thighs above him and her tight, wet sex around him without ever touching an inch of his wounded body.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

Beauty only smiled wider and squeezed her lower body until he was writhing in helpless pleasure. When her legs began to shake she leaned forward to place her hands down on either side of his chest and redistribute her weight.

Crouched as she was, Beauty looked like the predator he knew she could be, waiting to strike. Riding him with such impressive strength and balance, she was the very image of savagery and sexuality.

It was too much. Logan began to buck his hips beneath her. She rolled her hips to meet him as she leaned in to assault his mouth with her lips and tongue. Muffled cries of mutual climax echoed on the still cavern air.

*****

Logan and Beauty sat around the fire. She watched him holding the bolt action rifle in his hands, examining its mechanism. The bullets lay in a small pile at his feet. He unscrewed a brass cylinder out of the shoulder stock and stared at it. Logan picked up one of the bullets and peered closely at it.

"Just a slug. No casing. No propellant. No gunpowder of any kind."

He held up the cylinder. "I noticed when the pistol fired that the sound was... well, wrong. Now I know why. The bullets are ejected using compressed air pressure. How strange. Gunpowder would be so much more effective."

He picked up one of the pistols. It used a similar propellant tank but, due to the smaller design, only held a single shot. The design was very similar to the flintlock pistols used on Earth in earlier centuries, before the invention of smokeless powder and modern firearms.

"Huge improvement over a blade," Logan shrugged. "But still a long way from a nice, solid Glock semi-automatic."

He glanced at her and offered a faint smile. "You know, with all the craziness going on, I didn't even notice before." He tapped at his skull. "Your horns have grown larger."

Beauty reached up and explored the curling, black horns protruding from her mane of white hair. Her lips quirked into a semblance of a smile. "Beauty has gotten hornier, yes?"

He chuckled. "I suppose you have at that. Not good news for me. I can barely keep up with you as it is."

Beauty waved his concerns away. "Logan is all Beauty needs. Beauty is... I am content."

A silence settled between them.

"Is Logan content?"

He looked over at the pile of loot they had gathered. What had started as a meager collection of sticks and rat hides was now a large assortment of coins, clothes, armor, equipment, and a stockpile of weapons and ammunition. They now had soft bedrolls to sleep on, sturdy outdoor tents for shelter against the Hellwind, and a handful of specialty, survival tools that could make their lives infinitely easier. More than he had dared to hope for only a day ago.

And he didn't give a good damn about any of it.

"No," Logan sighed and shook his head. He smiled at her but the anger boiling in his gut made a lie of it. "With you, with us, yes. You are all any man could hope for. I just feel..."

Beauty scooted over to lean against him. "Tell me. What Logan wants, Beauty wants too."

"I'm tired of hiding," he snarled. "I won't find a way to escape from Hell huddled in this cavern and I won't sit around and just wait for the next attack. It's time we took the fight to the enemy. What they did to Karen... someone has to pay for that, Beauty."

"That someone would be the Baroness Graveek," Coyote spoke into his head from where he prowled about outside. "It was she that sent her servant, a human by the name of De Sade, to Gomorrah and to a demon Master in the business of offering hunters for hire. A damned and twisted soul by the name of Karl Denke was that hired hunter. It is his rifle that you now hold."

"Her again," Logan fumed.

"You have proven yourself to be a threat that she cannot ignore, Cousin. Hiding is no longer an option. All that remains is the choice to flee or fight."

He nodded. "Take a wild guess which option I choose."

Logan looked at the Succubus. "Beauty, have you ever heard of a Baroness Graveek?"

The Succubus perked up at the mention of the name. "Big talk in city. Bought old, strong soul for harem at castle. Warrior. Soul make good ally."

He thought about Karen. Pain squeezed at his heart. "I don't know that I want to drag anyone else into my personal crusade."

"Logan strong." She poked him in the chest." "Not strong enough to fight alone. Beauty not strong enough to protect Logan alone. Need allies that can fight."

"Who is he, this great warrior you heard rumors about?" Logan asked.

The Succubus quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is woman. Great queen in before time. Her name Boudica."

He shook his head. "Never heard of her."

"No matter," Beauty replied. "Old soul. Strong warrior. Good ally. We get, yes?"

"Maybe," Logan replied. "But there is the small matter of a castle, a small army, and an Elder demon between her and us. I think it's time we saw this place for ourselves." He grunted in pain. "After a few days of rest and recuperation."

*****

A week later, Logan had to admit it felt good to be properly dressed and suitably armed again. The hunter's black cargo pants and jacket were not a perfect fit but it was a damned sight better than running around in shredded jeans and a half-naked torso. It also had the surprise bonus of having an inner lining with protective metal plates sewn into the fabric. Denke's boots had, unfortunately, been too small for Logan's feet. However, the goggles and leather helmet he had looted from one the soldiers proved very useful for navigating outside when the Hellwind began to blow.

Even better were the pair of pistols hanging from his hips and the comforting weight of the rifle slung across his back. The short sword and dagger were just added insurance. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a proper soldier again.

Slowly but surely, he and Beauty were becoming a threat to be reckoned with. It was almost enough to make him forget the price they had paid to gain such an advantage. Almost.

Karen, he thought. I am so sorry.

Wounds still pained his flesh but he was healing much quicker than he could have hoped for, thanks to Beauty and the strange healing properties of her saliva. He still had no idea what that was all about and she had been unable to explain it beyond that doing it "felt right".

Logically, he knew he needed more time to fully recover from the last battle but the fury seething in his chest would not let him wait or rest any longer. Baroness Graveek had taken something precious from him and payment for that bill was long overdue.