— Faelyn Sylsalor, “Demons and Their Curses: Volume 2,” page 140
The kitchen of Saint Blacks Hospital and Asylum had changed significantly since Clara arrived with Arthur.
Before, it was a disgusting place filled with grease and mice. The walls were streaked with long trails of brownish-black filth. The floor was sticky, and the air reeked of burned fat and spoiled meat, and of course, the copper tinge of blood. Then again, there wasn’t anywhere in the asylum that didn’t carry the familiar smell.
As one of Draven’s personal servants, Clara was surprised at the amount of leeway she and Arthur were granted. Together, they had managed to help turn the asylum from a den of debauchery and horror to something at least more presentable. There was only so much they could do about what went on inside, though. While Arthur focused on getting the succubi in line, Clara had focused on the kitchen and utilities. It was her area of expertise, after all, and now, standing in the remodeled kitchen, she felt a swell of pride. The walls were painted smooth, the floor was well mopped and free from anything sticky or gelatinous, and the smell of blood was mostly gone. Again, there was only so much she could do about it.
Walking between the cooking stations, Clara observed the vampiric chefs at work. She had mentored a few of them to help bring the quality of food up, as well as provide more options for meals than kidneys and livers. It was the only way she and Arthur had managed to stave off the vampiric lust for human flesh, through willpower, vegetables, and also sheep's blood they had to acquire away from the asylum. All in all, her hard work was currying more favor with the lord of the asylum, and that's what she was after.
“It’s almost done, Selene,” one of the cooks said to Clara. She nodded and paid close attention to how they prepared Draven’s meal: a roasted rack of lamb. Beside it, pomegranate arils, crushed blackberries, and a chalice with a bottle of wine, fresh from the vineyards of Hardersfield. Another cook prepared platters of raw beef heart, thinly shaved and drizzled with a reduction of beet juice and crisp slivers of blackened root vegetables, all drizzled with blood fresh from one of the asylum’s patients. This kind of meal was exclusive to Draven, of course. As much as Clara wished she could provide the patients here with something more nutritious than gruel or slop, she had to keep up appearances. For the vampires and succubi, this was not a place of healing, but a house of pain.
Just then, Arthur appeared in the doorway. “Selene, there you are.”
She turned, arms crossed. “Yes?”
“Is this where you’ve been?”
“... yes? Is something the matter?”
“Oh, Selene, nothing’s the matter. Quite the opposite.” He moved closer, then gently grabbed Clara’s shoulders and pushed her up against the wall. “I’ve just been thinking about you. All day, actually.”
Her cheeks flushed. “E-Eldric, this isn’t the place. I’m overseeing Draven’s food. Can it wait?”
“I can’t help it, Selene. You’re too tempting.” Before she could react, his lips brushed her neck. Somehow, they felt softer than usual, more enticing. In an instant, her resistance melted, and she sank into his kiss, panting as her body heated up rapidly. A tingling sensation flew through Clara as his hands slid to her waist. His lips met hers, and she moaned into them. Her eyes fluttered open to see the vampiric cooks oogling the sight. They chuckled amongst themselves. Then, Arthur cupped her breast, and she jolted back to reality. She shoved him back.
“T-That’s enough.” Clara’s face burned, her voice trembling with anger and mortification. “What’s gotten into you?”
Arthur staggered back. He grinned. “My… isn’t that interesting.” He began to laugh, but slowly, his voice changed. It became higher in pitch, more feminine.
Clara narrowed her eyes as Arthur’s skin bubbled and morphed. His bones cracked and shifted as his body rearranged itself; A smaller frame, narrow hips, more voluptuous chest. His clothes became a size too big, and his hair grew long enough to drape down to his waist. “Xeliara,” Clara growled.
The succubus threw her head back with laughter. “My, my, it didn’t take much to rouse you up.” Her pale skin blossomed, and her pupils narrowed into slits.
Clara’s fists clenched. “You vile creature,” she spat. “How dare you wear his face! How dare you touch me!”
“Don’t lie to me, dear, I can smell your arousal,” she teased, then turned to the cooks. “If you boys ever get the opportunity to taste her, you’re in for a treat. Such a divine flavor, it’s a pity she’s so… resistant.”
Clara growled, her fangs and claws sliding out. She couldn’t stand the creatures. Shameless harlots parading their nudity through the halls. Arthur had managed to convince them to remain dressed for the most part, but there was no silencing their nature. They were growing in numbers by the day, drifting from room to room, slipping into patients’ beds under the guise of offering ‘comfort.’ This place was no less a brothel than it was a hospital, and every time she passed one of the succubi flaunting their bodies, she wanted to set the entire building ablaze. She wanted to burn it all, the asylum, the restricted wing, the nest, every last damn soul that made this place the hellhole that it was.
“Oh, come now, Selene,” Xeliara said, watching the fury grow across Clara’s face. She wasn’t doing a good job at concealing it. “You want another taste, don’t you?”
The cooks had all but stopped their process to watch the display.
Clara stiffened. “You have nothing that I want.”
Xeliara’s grin widened. “Maybe not you. But Eldric…”
“You keep the hell away from him,” she barked.
Xeliara pouted. “But where’s the fun in that. I know he wants a taste, just like any other man in this room.”
Clara resisted the urge to lunge at the succubus and tear her apart.
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“Tell me, Selene, what does he taste like? Hm?”
She took a step forward. “Keep. Away. From my husband,” she snarled.
“Oooooh,” Xeliara cooed. “Is that a threat, darling? I don’t think you’re in a position to make those. The two of you may have my sisters under your control now, but don’t forget, they’re loyal to me. Might I remind you what happens to those who cross us? My sisters and I are always on the lookout for new toys. You might not have quite the equipment we desire, but…” She trailed off, pausing before she blew Clara a kiss. “We’ll make do.”
“Enough!” she snapped. “The audacity of you demons is disgusting.”
Xeliara chuckled with a laugh like silk. “Oh, please. As if you’ve got any modesty to speak of, parading around in that outfit.”
Clara looked down at herself. It wasn’t particularly revealing. The skirt was short, and her corset showed ample cleavage, but it was nothing compared to what the succubi wore.
“Honestly, darling, you might as well take it off. It wouldn’t make much of a difference.”
“Clara rolled her eyes. “And you think your attire is any better?” She eyed it, quickly realizing: “Where the hell did you get his clothes?”
“A girl never shares her secrets,” Xeliara winked.
Clara flexed her claws, growling.
“But what need have I for modesty?” she continued. “It might appease Lord Draven when I am in his presence, but I always end up undressed eventually.” Xeliara balled the fabric of Arthur’s clothes and ripped them away with ease. The cooks erupted in whistles, devouring every inch of her as she peeled away the fabrics. “Modesty is a useless human notion, one I’m not burdened with.” She cocked one hip, flaunting her physique. “Though, I suppose I am still wearing clothes when you think about it.”
“You’re disgusting. No dignity, no self-respect.”
Xeliara laughed again. “Oh, here we go,” she said, sauntering closer. “Let me guess, ‘a proper lady covers herself,’ right? Is that it? Is that what you are, Selene? A proper lady?”
“More proper than you. At least I respect myself. You strut around like that and expect anyone to see you as anything more than what you are.”
Xeliara tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder like ink. “And what am I, darling?”
“Nothing more than a lust-driven whore,” Clara growled, “You’ll never be human, not like I or anyone else in this room once was. You’re just a monster pretending to be.”
Xeliara’s smile widened. “Oh, Selene, does nudity offend you because it’s improper… or because it stirs something inside you?”
Clara bristled. “It offends me because it’s unbecoming and shameless. There’s a reason we clothe ourselves.”
“Do you know what I am? What do I feed on? Why should I restrain myself when indulgence is my nature? Restraint, my dear, is for the weak and fearful, and for those too ashamed to own what they are.”
“If the others can walk the fine line, you can as well.”
“They’re blinded by Eldric’s orders. He’s quite the smooth talker, I must say. I see why you fell for him. A man with a body like that…”
“You’ll never be human, Xeliara. You’ll never know what makes us who we are. You’ll never know the comfort and pride a true woman feels with a child in their womb. And I’m not talking about another sister that crawls out from that gaping hole between your legs. You’ll never know, and that’s what makes you a disgrace. You’ll never be more than what you are.”
Xeliara’s smile widened. “You speak as though you have one yourself. Tell me, Selene, do you?”
Clara froze, her breath hitching. She might have said too much. “No…” she murmured.
“But you did, didn’t you? Before you turned?” Xeliara tilted her head.
Clara didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
The silence only widened Xeliara’s grin beyond what was natural. Her mouth was stretching, her sharp teeth flashing. “Oh, come now, darling. What happened to her, hmm? Did she die? Or maybe she ran from you? Or maybe…” She paused, watching Clara’s expression change, despite herself. “You got her killed? Nooooo… You couldn’t protect her.”
Clara snarled and lunged for the succubus, but Xeliara sidestepped and pinned her to the wall instead. It cracked from the impact, and pain exploded from Clara’s back. Her head spun. Blood trailed down the valley between her breasts. Xeliara’s nails were impossibly long and had sunken deep into her sternum. She could feel them inside her, shifting ever so slightly. A tail grew from the succubus’s pelvis and quickly ensnared her like a snake. Clara fought the restraints, but Xeliara pressed herself against Clara, lodging her arm between their chests. Heat radiated from her skin like fire.
Aww, what's wrong, sweetie?” Xeliara hissed. Her slitted pupils grew wide. “Strike a nerve, did I?”
Clara bit her tongue and fought the pain in her chest. She knew if she kept silent, Xeliara would be proven right, but if she spoke, she’d potentially reveal more. “No,” she finally said. “I’m just tired of your games. You need to learn manners like your sisters. This isn’t your den anymore.”
Xeliara’s smile faltered, and she twisted her hand, carving through Clara’s flesh like butter. She shrieked in agony, writhing as blood soaked her chest. The wounds healed quickly, but her tolerance for pain wasn’t any higher than when she was still human. “There she is,” Xeliara hissed into Clara’s ear. “The woman beneath the facade. All that power and you can’t handle a little pain?” Her tail unraveled, and her claw swiped through breast, pelvis, and abdomen. Clara’s body slammed against the cold, tiled floor. She writhed and convulsed as agony surged through her damaged nerves. A low, guttural moan escaped her throat as she clutched at the tiles, her nails scraping uselessly against the smooth surface. Her dress was ripped from collar to hem, baring her pale flesh as blood gushed from the massive cuts. Clara’s vision blurred, her world tilting as she fought to anchor herself against the torment.
One cook stepped over to help, but Xeliara shot him a glare so cold he stumbled back to his post. The succubus loomed over Clara, and as she slowly knelt, her skin began to slough off like wet paper to reveal patches of chitin plates. Her joints popped, arms elongated. Her jaw unhinged into a maw lined with rows of needle-like teeth. “Look at you,” Xeliara hissed with a guttural rasp that crawled from the depths of her warped throat. “A pathetic, weak, failure of a mother.” Her claws scraped the floor, sending sparks skittering across the tiles and unleashing an ear-piercing pitch. “You couldn’t protect her, could you? Your precious little girl. Did she die screaming for you? Did she beg for her mother while you stood by, helpless? Or maybe…” Xeliara smiled wider, “Maybe she’s still out there, lost, alone. My, if she ever found her way here, to this place, I’d take such pleasure in breaking her. Piece by piece. Body and soul. I’d unravel her until there was nothing left but screams. And you know why? Because that’s what I am, right? A monster. That’s what you called me. Why should I be anything more?”
Clara’s chest heaved with pained gasps. “You’re vile,” her voice trembled with rage and anguish.
“You flatter me, darling. But let’s not forget you. You’re no less a monster than I am. Just another servant to our master. A servant he could easily replace.” Her eyes began to bulge as she leaned closer. “Let me give you some advice, sweetie. Don’t try to be brave or strong or whatever ridiculous nonsense you think you’re capable of. Keep your opinions about me and my sisters to yourself. You and Eldric may think you’re in charge now, but don’t forget, my sisters are mine. They answer to me. You may not be worth the effort to drag you into our nest, but don’t think I won’t if you cross me. I can be very creative when it comes to putting a girl in her place.”
Clara shook as her wounds knitted together. She glared up at Xeliara, her fangs bared, but the succubus only laughed, her form beginning to collapse inward. Her jagged limbs snapped back to their human-like proportions, and her face smoothed to its usual flawlessness. Her skin regained its pale, luminous glow, and her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken veil. Within seconds, she was as she always appeared: radiant, untouchable, and utterly unbothered.
“Well, that was fun,” Xeliara said lightly. Her voice was smooth as honey again. She then turned on her heel and sauntered out of the kitchen. “Do try to keep your temper in check, Selene. It’s unbecoming of a lady,” her voice echoed from down the hall.
Clara remained on the floor, trembling. She took a few ragged breaths before covering her breasts with her arms and wobbling to her feet. She looked to the cooks, shaking. They were all staring.
“What?” she barked.
The head cook slid over a steel platter. “His dinner is ready.”
Clara sighed. She couldn’t serve Draven in her current state, but she knew he was waiting. Damn Xeliara, she thought. Damn her and her sister. She took a moment to calm herself, then glared at the head cook. “Your apron… give it to me.”
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