Herotica 1. Kerry Greenwood
Huy, who had released a succubus only to be bitten and shredded and scattered, flesh torn from bone. The room had been splashed in blood to the ceiling. The only part she had actually eaten was his penis, which might have been expected in a succubus. It had taken three of us to encircle and banish her. Then we had gathered Huy together in a rush basket for mummification and burial. I was not, after that, going to be tempted to let any demon, however beautiful, out of containment. Ever. He read my mind, which is disconcerting.
‘She really did spoil it for the rest of us,’ he sighed. ‘Succubi. So impulsive. Well, what have you to offer, and what do you want? The most beautiful woman in the world will cost you your soul, you know.’
‘I am not asking for the most beautiful,’ I told it. ‘And I am not offering my soul. I have here a perfect star sapphire, mounted in silver. Demons value such things, I believe.’
For a moment a flash of sheer greed whipped across his face. I was pleased. He waved an elegant hand dismissively.
‘Can’t do you the second most beautiful either, not for a trinket like that.’
‘I told you, I do not value beauty above other things.’ Now we were bargaining, and I had spent a lot of time in the marketplace, acquiring goods with a very small amount of coins to sell for a larger amount of coins. Romans loved Egyptian ‘antiquities’, and I knew where to buy the very best newly made ancient tomb figures, statuettes, and beaded collars. Since they had decided to conquer Egypt, I saw no reason why they should be able to carry real pieces of our history off to Rome with them, even though tomb-robbed goods carried massive and far reaching curses with them. Even the Romans didn’t deserve the ‘snake be against him by day’ curse. Bargaining was not a new concept for me.
‘Really? That’s unusual. You are beginning to interest me,’ said Abraxas. ‘What do you value?’
‘I want someone whom I can love and who can love me,’ I told him. ‘I want kindness and humour and sweetness of nature. And intelligence. Skilful hands would be good, too.’
‘I will fulfil your desire, but only because to tarry here would be to expire in the web of your sticky emotions,’ said Abraxas disdainfully. ‘Don’t you want a small perversion, desire to be beaten, perhaps, a little blasphemy, prone to blood sacrifice, nothing serious? Just to dilute the goodness a little, so you won’t be bored to death?’
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘Healthy, skilled, intelligent, sweet, funny, loving and loved. That’s all I want. And in return I will give you this fine star sapphire – see the white fire in the centre? – and the expertly made silver mounting, and just for you I will throw in this chain so you can wear it right away. It will look very splendid on your beautiful night-black bosom.’
‘Yes, it will, won’t it,’ he noted, conjuring a mirror. ‘Deal. Throw me the trinket.’
I tossed it through the circle into his hands. He dropped the chain over his neck and the sapphire gleamed between his rounded breasts. He smiled at me, waved a hand, and demon, throne, mirror and star sapphire vanished.
I waited. In his place, a figure was forming. Same height as me, long dark hair, clothed in a Roman tunic, crowned with a wreath of flowers. A strong scent of jasmine flowed across the circle. I caught my breath. The figure turned to me and held out... his arms.
Oh, that Abraxas. A demon with a sense of humour. Had I not mentioned that I wanted a female lover? I racked my brains. No. I hadn’t. Idiot. First rule of demon summoning: never leave even a tiny loophole into which they can wedge the complete destruction of your wishes. Then again, maybe this wasn’t as bad as it might be.
My conjured lover was looking hurt and worried. I could not have that. I banished the circle, swept a bare foot through the triple lines and he walked into my embrace.
Oh, my. He was pliable and strong in my embrace, smelt bewitchingly of jasmine, and his deft hands were running down my back. I drew back a little. Bright eyes, alert, intelligent. A face full of sweetness of character. And a red mouth made for kissing.
So I kissed him and we melted down to the floor of the chamber. I had never felt such a strong response. Our bodies drew together as if magnetised. He clearly felt the same. He murmured something against my neck.
‘Abraxas,’ he said. ‘I should have asked him for a woman, but–’
‘Abraxas?’ I exclaimed, ‘You too? I forgot to specify also. Foolish of us. What did you offer him?’
‘A ruby of Ind,’ he replied. ‘You?’
‘A star sapphire,’ I confessed.
We broke down and began to giggle helplessly, sitting on the floor, entwined with each other. We kissed again until we were dizzy with desire. He felt right in my arms as no one ever had. My lover apparently agreed.
‘But this is better,’ he said. ‘You are worth many rubies of Ind. My name is Marcus.’
‘It is better,’ I agreed, never letting go of him for a second. ‘You are worth a basketful of star sapphires. My name is Khety.’
‘My love,’ he said.
‘My love,’ I replied.
From the bare remains of the circle came the furious voice of the demon Abraxas, screaming curses. Which made us laugh again. And then we made love, to the music of a demon who has, unwittingly and despite his best efforts, done good, and will suffer for it.
SALAI AND MENTZI
The first time I saw Salai, he was stark naked in a stableyard, picking maggots out of Il maestro’s hair. He caught sight of me and yelled in the roughest street dialect I had ever heard in a gentleman’s house, ‘Strip off and get yer arse over ‘ere, pretty. I could do wiv some ‘elp.’
I had just arrived. I was Leonardo Da Vinci’s new apprentice. But that was Leonardo Da Vinci standing there, covered in something which smelt appalling. So I did as I was bid. A manservant handed me a bucket of warm water with lye soap in it and a sponge.
Salai grinned. ‘You get the wrigglers on this side,’ he ordered, and I picked out maggots. I forgot to be disgusted when I noticed that around our feet were a covey of birds, beaks gaping. So I was careful to distribute my provender fairly. One thrush alone was allowed to fly onto the Maestro’s tangled head and pick up his own wrigglers.
When his head and beard were clear and the birds dispersed, we started to undress Leonardo. The apron he was wearing tied at the back, and we eased it off and laid it out on the cobbles. Thereunder was a soiled shirt, a disgraceful pair of hose, horrible soft shoes, and a loincloth which was the sole cleanish element in this ensemble. Salai removed that, also. Then he washed Leonardo down with the warm water and soap.
All this time, as we tended him, il maestro was silent. I was about to ask a question when Salai’s disinfected hand slapped across my mouth. So I shut up. The manservant gave me a bucket of plain, warm water, a linen towel and a scholar’s gown. Salai let go of me, sponged the suds from our master, dried him roughly with the towel and dropped the gown over his head. Leonardo leaned on his shoulder as he slipped his feet into common stable pattens.
Then he ran inside and I heard a door shut, hard.
‘Y’ can’t talk to ‘im when ‘e’s doing that,’ Salai told me.
‘Doing what?’
‘I’m Salai,’ he said belatedly. ‘Leave the rags, the stablemen’ll swill ‘em down. Come in, you’re Mentzi, ain’t yer? Welcome to the ‘ouse. I c’n tell you’ll like it ‘ere.’
‘You can? How?’ I asked, redressing and following him into a cavernous room, filled with fascinating half seen things which I would investigate later - surely that wasn’t a human skeleton? - and sitting down next to him on a bench near the fire.
‘E’s remembering,’ said Salai, pouring us large cups of wine. ‘E’s been to a hospital today.