Lady of Futures

Written by Sailor Dathomir

He pushed himself. He always had, he always would.

Correction: he always had starting last week when the demon woman purchased his life.

She said she was not a demon, but he knew better. He remembered very little of his life previous, but he remembered being told of demons in the shape of women who would steal your soul and enslave you. The only way to defeat such a demon, the storyteller had said, was to sacrifice everything to the gods to reveal a weakness.

Woodrow F. Call had known Carnelian Sing for one week and already knew that the gods themselves would be pressed to find a vunerable spot in her. The other one, now she had vunerable spots. She was one big vunerable spot.

He had met Alexandren Sing two days after Lian had bought his life. Fifteen minutes later, he knew she was not the one he had to fear.

Correction: Ren was nothing to fear like her sister, but her accompaniment was to be cautious of. While he was absent, she was toothless. When he was there, it was terrible.

Woodrow had seen the man before. He hadn't met him, he had seen him. There was a galaxy of difference in the distinction. To have met the priest was to have suffered under his ministrations. To have seen the priest was to have noticed him and crossed out of your way to avoid him while his eyes glittered your doom at his hands.

The priest was a minister of death as far as Woodrow was concered. A man to be avoided. As was Alexandren, to be fair. She was no lady demon, but she still had power.

Lian was terrible because it did not show - she was like the demon goddes Luftne', who smiled while her pets worried and ate your belly and you loved her for it.

Ren was like the Lady Luftne''s pets - terrible to behold, covered in former meals and doing all ordered of them in a messy fashion, but still less powerful than the Lady.

Of course, the 'pets' that Lady Luftne' kept were broken humans with rotten stumps where teeth had been, nailess bloody nubs where fingers had been all wrapped up in the skins of her victims, matted with blood and other frightful things.

But even with them, the Lady was far more terrible. She was the one to order her pets to stop, paving the way for more horrible events.

Woodrow fingered the small tattoo at the base of his throat. He would have to have more put on his body - just the Lady was not going to be enough protection. The mark was stark against pale skin, as stark as the difference between Lian and Ren.

"Woodrow?"

"Yes?"

"This one is off limits. Catis, the Hapan Senator," the demon woman handed him a sheaf of flimsy. "As is he," she added, gesturing to the quiet man in the small kitchen.

"But her more importantly." Lian held up a hand to forestall the snort of mock-shock that echoed from the kitchen. "Eriks, do you work in the Hapan Senate Office or the Consulate?"

Woodrow watched the man called Eriks with fascination. He dared question the demon woman? He quickly amended his previous thoughts. The one called Eriks had power as well. Strange power.

Eriks wished for a snappy comeback or even something mildly sarcastic. Unfortunately, he had to settle for a mild sting - like citrus in a papercut.

"No. They don't have the right kind of drugs."

Lian winced.

Woodrow amended his previous amendment. If he had been the type to hold his hat in his hands, said hat would be circling, possibly being chewed on. Eriks had serious power.

Like the troublesome Pircd, the halfdemon child of the Lord Rafic, brought by a cast off woman. Only...Pircd had eaten his way out of his mother's belly and bitten off the hand of the Lady.

"Eriks..." Lian searched. "Go...do something useful."

He grinned. "Like what? I'm out of paperwork, I've finished all the filing, all the groceries have been ordered, your new boogyman's detox meds are prepared for each day AND I've finished painting every single room in this apartment. Twice, then I scrubbed - "

Woodrow was in shock. His hat would have been ragged from the bitemarks.

"Give me your knife," Lian interrupted him wearily.

"What?"

"Give. Me. Your. Knife." She repeated the request slowly and with very clear enunciation.

Eriks gave her the battered little pocketknife. It had two blades and a few small tools - mostly screwdrivers and a tiny pair of pliers. She opened the largest blade and looked around thoughtfully. Lian nodded. With very quick, very deft motions, she carved a rather sloppy design into the freshly-painted wall. Deep into the wall. She paused, then began hacking away with abandon, making sure to leave plenty of marks. Very deep, very obvious marks.

Eriks closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his chair. "I suppose that's your new way of giving me something to do?"

"You suppose correctly. The plaster is in the 'fresher, and the paint is in the computer room," Lian said sweetly. She wiped the knife on her trousers and closed it, handing it back to him.

Woodrow closed his eyes and counted. He was going to die. The demon lady was going to eat his belly while the half-demon gnawed off his hands. There was no way he could survive this. He looked at her.

Lian waited until the good-naturedly grumbling Eriks was gone and then continued. "Woodrow - Oh. Eriks Chekov. Eriks is special. He does everything asked of him and in return he's a prisoner. Not very good wages for having your life ruined, I suppose." Her politic smile twisted into something bitter and cruel. "One day he will have his just reward, however. Of that I. Will. Make. Sure."

Woodrow kept his face as blank as possible, but Lian was a skilled politician.

"You're wondering what could possibly make up for being a prisoner? That, Woodrow, is simple. Merely the death of the one who ruined your life. The death of Alexandren Sing."

She smiled. It would haunt his dreams for months to come.

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