Summoning Demons

Many Years Ago... 

"Have you seen my necklace?"

"Which one?" The servant carried on her chores, dusting away at cobwebby corners of the room. The keep was in a rather... unkempt state, Their room in particular. They had a habit of strewing their things about without a care. They found it better then the bare, cold stone left unadorned. 

She didn't even look at them when they asked their rather simple question.

Rude.

"The gold one, the chain? The one I always wear around my neck?" They gestured with painted nails to their own throat, stretching it so that the servant could get a good look of just how bare it was, at present.

"No, Master."

"Think I prefer Mistress today."

"No, Mistress."

They gave the servant a squint. Doe eyes, brown hair, the same uniform as all the others, a droll black and white. Fit, tall, and almost stern faced. 

As if they were one to talk about black and white. They rarely chose any other colors for their own wardrobe either.

"Are you new?"

The servant girl finally looked over, feather duster paused mid-swish. "Yes, Mistress. Since this morning."

"Hmph." They turned away from the girl and snatched up the nearest discarded garment from the back of a chair. Oh, they liked this one; a bit lacy on the back, open front, very flowy, showed hip and midriff with the right pair of pants.

Ugh, pants.

"Well," they continued, moving on to their dresser to poke around for undergarments, "for future reference it is customary to knock before you barge in on me. Who knows that the Lord would have me be doing in here." They cast her a curious glance. "Thought the others would have filled you in, but I guess not."

"Apologies, Mistress."

They pulled out a pair of equally flowy, cinch-ankled harem pants and held them up. Oh these were the ones with the little bells on the tie! Yes, that would do nicely. As for undergarments? They scanned the room and then settled on the view outside their window.

Bleak and gray and hot. The kingdom was dirty, and poor, and it was because of this stinking, addled Lord. 

Another day on Earth, they supposed. Thus, it was too nice a day for undergarments.

"On second thought, I think I would prefer if you called me Master."

"Yes, Master."

They smiled, pulling the pants on one leg at a time. They looped the found blouse over one arm with a sigh. 

"Then again, no one calls me by any title here. I would have assumed someone would have filled you in on that, too."

They felt something cold and sharp press against the small of their back, and their spine straightened. They pulled in a long, slow breath and their eyes went wide with amused surprise. 

"Oh dear. Here to kill me then?"

"Yes." The servant girl was rather close now, dangerously close. For her, anyway.

They could feel her breath tickle the feathery hair at the back of their neck. A few black strands fluttered in their vision, catching on their long lashes as they slid their eyes to the side. Yet they did not move away.

"How many attempts does that make? Four? Five?"

"Seven." She pressed the tip of her blade a little harder against their flesh, and they let out a soft hiss as it broke the skin. "Seven. My success will make eight."

They chuckled, the smile wistful and elegant, matching the gleam in their dark left eye. "Not sure what you hope to accomplish. I'm not the one enslaving you."

"You're a loyal pet to the Lord. A powerful one. And if I kill you, he has one less pawn to use against us."

They could feel the hatred in her voice. It trembled across their skin from their bare toes to the tips of their curled horns. "Why not just kill him, hmm? Kill him and our servitude ends."

"Lies."

"I keep trying to tell you people this, and you always say the same thing. But why would I lie, exactly?"

The blade pushed further, and they arched their spine, an involuntary movement. Their head tilted back and another sigh brushed past their lips. 

"To save your own skin."

"My skin hardly needs saving."

"Enough talk."

"Then stop talking and kill me already." They snorted. 

The girl behind them edged the blade a fraction deeper, and they let out a surprised hiss. Her voice was hard, but confused as she hissed her next words. "Why aren't you fighting me? I thought you were supposed to be powerful."

"Oh I am."

"I could kill you right now."

"But you won't."

"I will."

They sighed at her persistence. And then, they started to turn around. The blouse they had been holding slipped to the floor, and they felt the tip of the blade glide across their skin, leaving a thin crimson trail. They stopped when it was aimed just above their bellybutton, eyes leveled at that frightened, doe-brown gaze.

"You won't, actually."

She stared at them. They had to give her credit - her hand didn't so much as tremble as it held the blade steady, and she blinked, but didn't look away. However, she did seem at a loss for words.

"Shall I tell you why?"

She did not respond. 

They reached up one hand and ever so gently put it over hers, the one holding the knife. And then they brought their joined hands up higher, the blade pressing just beneath their ribcage. "Because I am not the one you wish to kill, of course. You need to kill the Lord. The one who summoned me."

"I... I can't. He's too well guarded, I would never--"

They reached up their other hand and gently cupped the side of her face. "I can tell you how. It'll free us both."

She stared at him. As they held her hand, the knife clattered to the floor between them. And in the instant it took for her to take a breath to speak, they had stepped closer. The air smelled faintly of winter air, blood, and jasmine. Their lips were an inch away from hers, no more, and they spoke again.

"I hate him as much as you do. Let me help you. Free us both."

A whisper in a larger room. The faintest echo of the fallen blade, and this girl's heartbeat. She impulsively reached out to put her hand on their chest, to stop their movement, perhaps?

"I - I have nothing to give you, I cannot pay--"

"I don't like being paid." They looked over her face, a ghost of a smile playing on their lips. "I like gifts. Nothing more. And I wish for closeness. I wish for warmth. I wish for... a kiss, maybe."

"A kiss? And you will tell me how to kill him?"

They dropped their voice to something more like a purr. "Oh you know how to kill him. for a kiss, I'll tell you where. And for perhaps a second one, I'll tell you when."

They could feel her heart skip a beat as their eyes met again. They could watch as she steeled herself for this arrangement, straightening her spine and setting her jaw. 

Oh that wouldn't do. 

They brushed their thumb along her cheek, and felt some of those muscles relax. "Please. I will not harm you. And despite the... teeth I bare, I will not bite."

Please. Just this once, kindness would be so very nice.

"M-my name...?"

"Only if you wish to tell me."

"Myra. I'm Myra." Her eyes softened, and with such trepidation, her one hand slid up along their chest, over the firm ridges of their abdomen, and to their neck. Delicate fingers, worn with hard work, but slender. Soft.

"Myra." They breathed, repeating it tenderly. They shut their eyes a moment, letting the name convalesce in their mind. A name freely given. It sent a shiver down their spine. What a gift. They leaned a fraction closer. Their warmth mingled with hers, roaring softly between them, unbeckoned. 

This was where real power came from. Their power. These gifts. 

"Your... name?" Her breath was a soft whisper as she gazed at them. They opened their eyes to receive the question, tasting her shallow breath on their lips.

The time between them stretched for an eon as they listened to the cacophony of their racing hearts. And the moment before their lips met, and a delicious, forbidden passion claimed the both of them, they whispered their name in the silence between.

"Darius."