Wishmaster Pt. 01

Can you feel it, Kiera?

Jason's fingers hooked into her pants, slowly pulling them down her exposed legs, and Kiera nodded, her hands reaching for his head, burying themselves in his hair. In the back of her mind she knew that was happening was insane but right now she didn't really care.

Jason's palm smoothed over her leg as he brushed her underwear aside, coaxing her ankle over his shoulder. Braced as she was against James, Kiera found herself obeying, helpless to deny the request. Her body trembled as Jason's tongue met with her skin, licking and kissing slowly, delectably, up her thigh towards her now exposed sex.

James's hands squeezed her shoulders, sending a surprisingly pleasant sensation running through Kiera's body.

Close your eyes...

Kiera obeyed, her head lolling back against James as Jason's tongue reached her peak, teasing her by licking slowly and deliberately around her core, but not quite coming into contact. His fingers massaged her gently, following the path of his tongue and softening the skin from his kisses.

"Kiera," Jason breathed into her, "You're so fucking hot. Let me taste you..."

Just as his tongue collided with that most sensitive part of her, the feeling and warmth vanished immediately.

Kiera cried out and opened her eyes.

She was back in her apartment - well, her supposed apartment - fully clothed, and James was lounging on the sofa as he had been when she had first walked in, his smile now wide.

She brought a hand to her mouth.

"What the fuck," she managed, little more than a whisper, her face burning with a mix of both exhileration and embarrassment. Her entire body was flushed from the brief encounter, aching in a way it hadn't for months.

"I know it doesn't make sense, but this is a vision of a life I could give you." James got to his feet in earnest this time, and picked through a small pile of envelopes spread on the coffee table.

He lifted one, passing it to Kiera.

"Open it."

Frowning, but unable to disobey, Kiera took it. Her name was emblazoned on the front, printed in a neat, clean font. She skimmed the letter inside, her eyes widening when she saw what it was. A cheque, made out to her, for more money than she had ever thought she'd earn in a lifetime.

Lowering the letter, she eyed James over the top of the paper.

"I don't understand," she said.

"That's a sum for your involvement in the perfume you wanted to manufacture - what was it called again? Ah yes, Heaven's Desire." James gave a sardonic smile. "Very fitting."

Kiera looked to the sum of money on the page then back up to him. Then, without quite knowing why, she curled a fist around the paper, balling the sharp edges into her palm, and threw it to the floor.

This was insane.

Kiera had read enough fiction and watched enough television to recognise the potential madness that was happening to her: some ethereal being come to grant her every wish. She had always told herself, as every adult does, that magic didn't exist. How could it? The world would be so much simpler for its existence, but was so mundane and pointless in reality.

And yet... there had always been a small, tiny part of her that had hoped. Somewhere. Through the trials and tribulations of her life, it had clung to some small insanity of her own, that maybe there was more to the world than she knew or had experienced, or was documented in everyday life.

And now she found two sides within her warring with each other: the practical, realistic adult who went to work, ate take-away dinners for one and paid her bills on time; and the fantastic, imaginative adult who lived her life in a fantasy land of perfection hidden in a journal under her pillow.

James hadn't moved. Instead he watched her carefully, seemingly waiting for her reaction.

Kiera looked from the fire in the grate to the shining kitchen, to what she knew was a bedroom door despite never having set foot here before.

She took a deep breath, then looked back to James.

"Let's just say for the next ten seconds I'll believe anything you have to say," she said, keeping her palm out towards him as she might a stray animal. "What would you tell me? What is this?"

"I'm a demon," James said, his face impassive. "Better known in your world as the Wishmaster. Mortals make wishes... I grant them."

Kiera's eyes widened. "A demon? As in... eat a human's soul kind of demon?"

A burst of laughter escaped James. It was lighter than his previous chuckles, almost natural, and it surprised her. "We have a bit of a bad reputation. To allay your fears, no, I do not wish to eat your soul. Nor do I wish to chew on your flesh, kidnap you, possess you, or in any way harm you at all."

"So what do you want?"

"A good question. And not something we need to discuss right now. Also, I believe my ten seconds are up."

Kiera lowered her hand.

A demon.

A demon.

Surely not.

He looked every bit as human as the people she shared the London tube with.

"I am in my human glamour," said James, bending to pick up the paper Kiera had thrown on the floor. "It makes it easier to move in the mortal realm. Horns and a tail might make a bit of a show, don't you think?"

Horns. Tail.

Demon.

"You can read my mind then?" Kiera blurted, watching James as he began to move around the apartment with the ease of someone who lived there.

He began to open cupboards in the kitchen, fetching two glasses, a tray of ice cubes, and a decanter of an amber liquid. He poured out two generous servings, and the ice cracked loudly as it drowned in the alcohol.

"To an extent," he explained while he worked. "It depends how much I focus."

Kiera approached the counter separating the kitchen from the living room - it also served to separate the two of them, for the moment. The way he moved was almost like liquid held by a solid form. Every movement he made was smooth, precise, and carefully thought out. He was more like a dancer in his movements than anything else.

This had to be a dream, Kiera reasoned eventually realised. She had fallen asleep on the tube - god knows where she would end up - and now she was dreaming. That was really the only explanation for everything. Which meant she may as well go along with it, for now.

Carefully, she took the drink James offered her. To her surprise, the drink smelled of almonds and sugar, and she sipped on it, enjoying the warmth of the fiery alcohol and the soothing of ice mellowing the flavour.

"Why are you telling me this?"

James shrugged nonchalantly, his shoulders loose and his expression at ease. "You seemed not to calm down until you had your answers. Some mortals prefer to get lost in the fantasy immediately. Not you, it would seem. It's of no benefit to me if you're panicking." He lifted his own drink to his lips. "Cheers."

Kiera took her drink and perched against the sofa in the living room, her back to James.

James.

She glanced over her shoulder, finding him watching her.

With narrowed eyes, she swilled her drink, the ice cubes dancing off the glass and tinkling gently. "Your name isn't really 'James' is it?"

His sardonic smirk was back, his mouth kicking up at one corner. He shook his head. "No."

"Then why -?"

"My, you are a woman of endless question, aren't you?" He sounded amused more than annoyed, which at least made Kiera feel at ease. "Because what else would you have me say? 'Greetings dear stranger, my name is Nocturne, Prince of the southern Realms of the Infernal Plane, pray, allow me to fester in your mind for a while'? No, "James" is much more simple. And most of my clients don't even question it."

The amount of questions that burst into Kiera almost exploded out of her all at once, but she instead glanced down into her drink.

'James' pulled out a stool that was by the bar, and let out a langoured but good-humoured sigh.

"I see we are to be here for some time. Please, take a seat. I will tell you everything you wish to know."