Demons End (Tremble Island) (9 page)

Lion found them an hour later. The sight of their mate straddling his brother’s face, riding his tongue, while his hands palmed her breasts and pinched the nipples in his fingers, had him hard instantly. He watched, sitting close by, until she finished grinding her soaked flesh onto Nord’s jaws, before snatching her up and over, onto her back on the soft mossy ground, and sliding his cock deep. “Hello, mate.” He grinned and began to give her the fucking that she had earned since this morning when she began teasing his cat’s sensitive furry ears.

It was deep into the night before they made it back to camp with Rane asleep in Nord’s arms.

*****

Three Days Later

They reached the coast that signified less than one more day of travel to arrive at Morlien Hall. The Hall was built on the coast, like Tremble, but was nowhere near as magnificent a place as the founding settlement of the island. Trundle came back to the Lord’s party and did something that made most within their sight gasp and hold their breath. He stood in front of Lion, plucked the Lady Rane from his back, picked the huge cat up in his trunk, and ran back the way he had come from.

Nord was overhead gliding along, when he spied what was happening and followed the huge beast. No one noticed the demon moving with lightening speed in their wake. The demon had no idea that the well-fed banshee was directly behind him.

Wensel plopped Aria next to Rane, nodded to her and walked five steps before disappearing. Following the path left by the demon was easy, a small dusting of gold showed her his path. She could not materialize and stay invisible like a demon, but she could move faster than could be detected by the normal eyesight of most creatures.

Trundle set Lion down close to the edge of the trees before the beach started. He waved his trunk forward, but Lion knew the big creature wanted him to go forward quietly. He could hear them before he saw them. Men were gathered on the beach, yelling, and animals were making enough noise to wake whatever dead there was in the vicinity. He saw the reason for Trundle’s distress. Several cages sat on the beach filled with animals. One cage held two males in human form, but if they were shifters, he was not close enough to tell what their alternate nature was. Nearer where he watched from, the stench made his belly cramp, wanting to puke. A table was set up and four humans were busy skinning a wolf shifter’s body. It had been a beautiful male, large and in its prime, before death at the hands of the vile men.

Lion crept backwards and shook his furry hide; as he shook, his sleek stripped body grew into a huge golden battle cat, the thick pads of woven hair that covered his shoulders and chest appeared to be a shield. The spikes of bone standing from his spine curved in an arc, to impale any enemy ignorant enough to attack from above.

The giant white bear coming from the trees to stand next to the cat, was fearsome with its huge paws tipped with knife length razor sharp claws. The wide mouth of the thing was filled with sharp white teeth as long as a man’s arm was deep. The two made a frightening sight. The demon came to stand with them and smiled. “Did you really think I could sit back and allow you to have all of the fun? These souls are mine once we finish with them. They will bring hours of enjoyment in the pit.”

Trundle stomped his feet and raised his trunk to trumpet his version of a battle cry. When he rushed onto the beach, the humans scattered, grabbing swords and large clubs to attack the mountainous creature that knocked them down each time he passed through their midst.

The giant cat had the attention of the leader of the band of scum, he wanted that pelt. His greed proved to be his end as the cat took his throat and crushed it into a bloody chew toy. The white bear had a man impaled on his claws, and kept swing the man in front of his body each time the man’s comrade attempted to attack the bear. It was a game to the animal and when he grew tired of it, he simply flicked the bloody body away from his paw, and roared when it landed at the feet of the demon.

Nord left the fight to Lion and Trundle, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. He went to the cages and released the captives. Of the twelve animals caged, two were natural born single natured beings. The rest were denizens of Morlien Hall and village.

Once the people and shifters had been sorted out, they sat in the sand and answered Lion’s and Nord’s questions. Koler stayed near to listen. He found no lies coming from the captives, only relief from being rescued before they had been murdered as the last three shifters had been.

The shifter, Reil, told Lion how they ended up as sacrifices for the furriers. “Lord Borland struck a deal with these humans. They were to take the Demon Leroi from the island and drop him into the ocean far away from here. In return, he gave them fifteen of us. All shifters. We were charged with crimes we did not commit and imprisoned. There was no way to escape. Watching my friends murdered and skinned like that will give me nightmares for the rest of my days. I hope you have come to stop him from harming any more of us, Lord Tremble.”

No one paid attention to the ship belonging to the furriers as it drifted from the spot it had been anchored.

Chapter Eight

Leroi waited impatiently for his nightwing minion to reappear. It was now the afternoon of the third day, and Pudding Pants was still holed up in his rooms, complete with Flitch and two armed guards at the door. He entertained himself with causing strife between the guards by whispering into the ear of one, “Your friend likes your lips, he wonders how they might look wrapped around his cock.” He vanished for minutes only to come back and find the guards in a heated embrace. This was not what he planned. The man was supposed to be outraged, not intrigued.

He should have been expecting the attack. He of all creatures should have counted on the fact that paybacks were almost always a guarantee, and almost always worse than the crime. He had been taunting Borland for months, hoping the man would tip completely into insanity to give him an excuse to kill him and be done with him.

By the time he realized what was happening, they had him. One minute he was watching Flitch torment a human male, by his next breath, the salty seawater had doused his head, causing him to cry out. While his flesh sizzled and burned from the water, several golden chains were draped over his head and pulled taut, effectively rendering him physically helpless. Someone must have told the bastard Borland how to bind a demon.

His captors were afraid of him, and that was a good thing to his way of thinking. He might not be able to move his body, but he could manipulate their minds should one of them happen to touch him. A select few who were frightened to begin with, could be manipulated to a degree without a touch. The chains were loose around his ankles, and taut around his torso. If he could gain his feet, he would not be confined to this dank hole in the bowels of the ship. So far every one of his efforts had been in vain. When he felt a blackened soul hover near his shoulder, he quickly snagged it, and devoured the snack. The soul was not one he would normally have taken until it was a bit blacker, however it showed up for his use, he was happy for the gift.

Within an hour another soul hovered, and yet another. From his estimation, they had been sailing for at least three hours, after the fifth black orb appeared he knew something was wrong with the crew, it had not been sickness that killed these men. They had died of fright. Since he had not been the one to do the deed, he wondered what could be more frightening than a Demon Prince. If it was not for the fact their deaths might help him in his situation, he might have felt jealous of the power that being wielded.

Thunder boomed into the sound of the ocean waves, as the ship encountered rough seas. He could hear the lightning crackle, and saw the brief flashes of white light through the grate above the hull. Rain fell into the barrels strapped together below the grate for the purpose of gathering rainwater to drink and cook with, but there had been no sign of life.

He was brought from his stupor by an unearthly shriek. The noise was prolonged as if whatever made the noise was being tortured. He could not recall hearing such a sound before, and since it was not a normal sound of a storm, he concluded that someone, or something, was still living above deck. Another black blob popped near him, and he was happy to see the grizzly look of the thing. This being had been an exceptionally horrible shifter. His crimes had been many and he died unrepentant.

He again tried to get to his feet, and again failed in his attempt. What was happening above his head anyway? The question was driving him to distraction.

*****

Wensel came upon the scene of Flitch and two others tossing someone into the bottom of a rowboat, before getting into the boat themselves and rowing out toward the sailing ship anchored in the small cove. To her right, she could see the skirmish that the Lords of Tremble and Koler were engaged in and knew the only way the helpless victim on his way to the ship would be helped, would be if she swam out and did the rescuing herself.

Koler told her that he could not touch seawater, and unless one of the Lords had a nature of a fish, they would be useless too. Her swimming skills had improved from being with Aria, she had little choice in the matter. So she wadded out into the breakers and dove into the wave as it curled onto shore. Within minutes she found her rhythm and came upon the ship on the opposite side from the rowboat. Climbing the rough boards of the hull was easy. Hiding until the men unloaded their victim was not as easy. She found a crate filled with rope and slid behind it just as several men ran to assist Flitch aboard.

Listening to the conversation between the captain and Flitch made her banshee wish to come out and play. They discussed the quality of the hides they were getting from the well-fed shifters versus the hides they had gotten from natural animals. Flitch promised to make more shifters available to the furriers on their next visit as long as they had something worth trading for the hides.

Wensel ran to the ropes holding the rowboat secure to the ship and let the lines fall. She found the wheel that raised and lowered the anchor and began the task of raising the thing, not thinking of the longer term consequences, only that Flitch not be allowed to escape. She would make certain the man never harmed another soul. He caused so much misery and hurt to so many that he deserved what the banshee would offer him, and she planned to make certain he got what he deserved.

Whoever the captive was in the hold was fine for now, and probably safer there than on deck where the banshee would be, so she left him where he was. The sailor who discovered her at the anchor wheel met his death with surprise, as did the next two that came upon her struggling with the heavy object.

She felt the ship moving and grinned while she barred the captain’s door shut from the outside, locking at least three men in the room, while she explored the rest of the ship. Men appeared and thought she was a strumpet. She was not familiar with that term and asked them what it meant. One bold fellow came close and actually placed his hand on her breast and tried to kiss her. He was smelly and had three teeth. His friends thought it was good sport to harass the female and began to join in the fun. She let the banshee take over and with the exception of them urinating on themselves while they died, only one man had screamed in fright as he choked on his fear and died. Seeing a skeletal hand reaching for your face and chomping teeth under stringy curling snakes appearing to look like hair had a tendency to scare most men or women for that matter. Simple sailors were no exception.

She found the cabin boy in the kitchen area with the cook. The two were busy peeling a strange looking orange root vegetable and talking. She left them unmolested, and went to the sailors’ quarters. No one was to be found on the rest of the ship, and she remembered that some of the crew was on the beach when she first saw the rowboat and fighting going on.

It was time for her to find the prisoner. Perhaps she would find out what made him important enough for Borland and Flitch to risk so much to be rid of him.

Wensel watched from her spot behind the kegs of spirited drink and barrels of fruits. The prisoner was no ordinary being, he was manipulating five black orbs in the air above the floor. When he forced two of the things to collide in a nasty splat, he laughed. He made them bounce from the floor to the ceiling of his small space, talking to them, telling them that they should have been nicer people when they lived and he would not be tormenting them now.

“Donnel and Porter, had you not killed your father and forced your blood sister into heinous sex acts, you could have become decent hardworking men, not at all attractive to me. The same thing with you, Jib, I did not see you in life, but your soul is so withered at the age of thirty and five. I would have guessed your age to have been twice that. Not that I have any particular care for any one race of beings, but, Clude, did you have to pick only red haired men to slake your lust upon? Did the rest of you know that Clude here liked to watch you fuck yourselves, and each other? He was quite the peeper, were you not? I think tis’ a good thing that your soul has come to me before the Captain of this vessel finds out that Jib has been fucking his wife every time the ship docks. I will have you both soon enough, you know. Shall I allow his soul to rip small pieces from your leftovers?” The male laughed loudly in the dark.

“You may as well come out of your hiding spot and allow me to thank you properly for the nourishment of these blighted souls. I can feel your presence, even if I cannot spy your form. I am called Leroi, I am a Prince of Demons. Not so princely at the moment, I can admit, but it is a fact that cannot be overlooked either.”

Curses, he knew she was there, now she must…wait, Leroi? As in Koler’s Leroi? It could not be, but it must be him. She stepped out into the path between the cargo resting on planks. “You are Leroi? The Demon Prince from Morlien Hall?” She waved her hand side to side, “I mean from Demons End?”