His Maid, Her Butler

You ran down the streets of Venice, Italy as fast as you could. The next soul you were to collect was scheduled to die in the next five minutes and you needed to be on the spot before that time. The streets were narrow and full of holes and filth; covering your nose, you leapt from the street and up to a terrace. The lady lay peacefully in her bed, completely unaware as to what was about to happen. You watched the scene play out.

The door opened quietly and a man in a black mask sauntered in. He was tall, but not good looking in the least; you could smell him from where you stood, and it wasn’t pleasant. He came to a stop next to the bed, digging into his pocket he produced a knife and in one swift motion, he sank it deep into the woman’s heart. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, a river of blood flowing from the wound and now from her mouth. The assassin departed hurriedly, having fulfilled his task. Now it was your turn. Opening the door, the Cinematic Records began playing for you; the lady had been a rich one back in her youth, smart and pretty, she had married and bore two children, but from there it went downhill. Her husband became a drunkard and beat her and the children; one had died from a beating and the other of an infection. Her husband died not long after her oldest child had past, having drunk himself senseless and fumbled into a machine, thinking it a bed. She then gave herself over to abusing her body and men. She led them on, had been for years. One had recently gotten very angry after finding out the truth, having been deeply in love with her, and the death of her had become the result of his hatred.

Producing your Death Scythe, you cut the records at the end, her life over. Stamping the page as completed, you left the room and began your way back home in the dark. You could hardly see a thing as you picked your way through the alleys. There were only a few lights on, one on each corner, and you gladly accepted their luminance. You hoped to be back home before dawn, but that was not to be. As you walked down one of the alleys a chill crept up your back; you continually looked behind you but no one was there, that’s when they sprung on you. Coming out of hiding, a group of five men surrounded you.

“Hey pretty thing. What’s someone like you doing all the way out here?” one asked teasingly.

You didn’t answer and tried to push through, but they wouldn’t budge. You glanced around frantically, but found no exit; you were trapped. Another of the men came from behind and grabbed hold of your arms, grasping tight enough to make you squeal in pain.

“Aw, she hurts,” the one to your right said. He came to stand right in your face. “Want me to make it better?”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, he reeked of it; in fact, they all did. The man reached for you and began to feel you up. Opening your mouth to speak, you were gagged. You began to panic; you could do nothing, they were stronger than you. Letting your head fall, you started to cry. The man who had his disgusting fingers on you made a mocking sniffle sound; you glanced up at him, or at least where you thought he was. It was too dark to see anything, and there was no moon.

“Are you scared? It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. We just want to have…a little fun, ya see?” he said.

You shook your head fiercely, continuing to cry. You stopped abruptly, a realization hitting you; your legs. Striking out, you kicked the man who was in front of you, hoping it had hit where it hurts. The man doubled over, groaning. You struggled against the one that held you, but another man stepped in for the one you had kicked and grabbed your leg.

“Listen ‘ere missy, there’ll be none of that!” Yelling something in Italian to the one who was holding you, you were lowered to the ground and secured. “You will not be getting away tonight, deary.”

The man ran his hands beneath your shirt and you squirmed, fighting to get free. He removed the buttons from their appropriate places and ran his face against your stomach and planted a kiss on the area where your collarbones met. The feeling made you want to kill him even more, if only you could. He pulled the clothing away as far as it would go from you before he scooted back. You wriggled feverishly.

“Now for the prize.” He pressed his hands against your body, making you wince as the pressure made bruises.

He didn’t go straight for you though; he contented himself with covering the rest of your exposed body in slobbery kisses, and bruises from where he placed his hands. The only thing you could do was cry. No one was within range to save you; the buildings around you were old and falling to pieces. Now he made for you; ripping the rest of your clothing from you, the men holding you made you ready for him. You braced yourself for his impact, but it never came. A howl went up and the man fell in convulsions. The others turned this way and that, trying to figure out what was happening. The two who were standing fell next.

“What are you lot doing to the poor thing?” asked a voice.

They all looked for it, even you. The next to fall was the man holding your legs. He screamed in pain and died instantly mid scream. The man holding your arms gripped them tighter, scared. You felt him tense, then fall, something wet coating you. You laid there for a moment, wrapping your head around what had just happened. A rustling sound came from your left and you watched as a faint light came towards you. It grew until another man was standing before you. He knelt and you flinched, not having moved from your position on the ground.

“It’s alright, I came to help.” Holding his candle to where the light shined on you, he started to examine you, but turned his face in respect. “I see; here take my coat and I’ll get you to a safer place.”

You sat up as he removed his coat for you; you took it gratefully and covered yourself. He picked up your clothes that were scattered about then extended a hand to you. “Come on.”
Taking his hand, he led you to a small house hidden away a few blocks off. He let you in and had you sit before he started a fire; you watched him while he did this. He was a tall, well built man. He had pitch black hair that hid his eyes. He worked quickly, building the fire until it was blazing. He looked back at you after he was done and saw you hadn’t removed the gag from your mouth. Coming to your side, he gently removed it and ran a comforting hand along the top of your head. “Everything is fine now, you’re safe.”

You nodded and clutched at the coat, trying to hide your bare legs. The man noticed and dashed off to the next room. He returned with a bundle. “I hope this will do for now.”

He handed you a pair of trousers and a grey long sleeve shirt. You gladly accepted them and, grabbing your undergarments from the table, you entered his room to change. “There’s a basin of water in the corner, you can use that to wash up,” he called in to you. You took his offer and washed up, but it didn’t erase the memory of what had happened. You changed into his clothes only to find out that the trousers would not stay on. Slipping out of the room, you held onto them so they wouldn’t fall off.

He turned to you as you neared him. He chuckled and ran back into his room; he came out with a belt. “Here.”

You took the belt and adhered the pants to you. The sight of you was very odd, but you were at least fairly clean and clothed. The man had pulled a chair up for you by the fire and you placed yourself in it. A large pot was hanging from the rack above it.

“I hope you do not mind, but I’ve taken the liberty to wash your clothes for you,” he said, pointing to the pot. “I was just heating up some water for it.”

You nodded. “Thank-you.”

He started at your words. “You are most welcome, my lady,” he said with a smile in his voice.

You sat watching the fire, unmoving. The man went about the house doing this or that, leaving you to some peace. You were still scared, but not as much as you were yearning for home. Pulling your knees up to you, you went over everything in your head, cringing at the end.

Coming over to you, the man interrupted your thoughts by handing you a cup of strong smelling brew. “Drink this, it will make you warmer.”

You took a sip and your nose wrinkled. “What is this?”

The man laughed. “It’s coffee.”

You stared at the dark liquid that was in your cup. It wasn’t too bad, it just wasn’t what you were use to drinking. You drank it slowly, letting the heat course through your body, warming you up. The man sat across from you, watching. Your senses returned as your body relaxed, but not for long. Instantly, you were back on high alert. Facing the man, you gave him a glare.

“Demon,” you hissed.

A devilish smile played at his lips. “How right you are.” He looked at you fully, revealing his eyes; blood red.

You got up quickly and reached into your pocket for your scythe, but you forgot it wasn’t there.

“Looking for this?” The demon pulled out a letter opener. “Well done on the disguise, I applaud you.”

You stuck out your hand, motioning for it to be returned. “Hand it back.”

He continued to play with it. “Is that any way to talk to your rescuer?” His eyes mocked you.

You frowned. “I never would have thought a demon would have the heart to save someone who wasn’t in contract with them.”

The demon laughed. “You strike my curiosity.” In an instant, he was right in front of you. “There’s something about you that makes me want to go after you. I now yearn to know what it is; why am I seeking after a Grim Reaper.”

You were backed up against the wall, nowhere to run. The demon placed his hands on each side of you on the wall, blocking any escape. “What do you want?” you asked, heart racing.

The demon leaned his face in close. “What any demon wants.” You cowered before him. His face came closer and he lowered it to your neck; he stopped. “No, I have already eaten a fill. I will save you to be my decadent dessert.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. Pressing himself firmly against you, he nipped your neck and licked at the blood that bubbled out. You winced at the pain and tried to push him off; it was no use, he wouldn’t budge. Images of what had happened not long before passed through your head and you pushed at him harder, fearing he might do the same. His lips traced their way up to yours, playfully taunting before he attacked them with his own. You pushed at him even harder as he kissed you, your head spinning. There was a feeling of aggressiveness, yet also gentleness, in his attack. Your heart raced; his hands gripped your shoulders, he clung to his prey, unrelenting to let it go. There was a voided feeling at the edge of your conscious; you wondered if that was what it felt like to have a demon eating your soul. But it wasn’t; the void only hovered on the outskirts, never touching you, only observing. You reached for it and it moved towards you; it was the demon, but something was different. He didn’t want your soul, he was marking you. You froze, realization hitting you; the demon was marking you as his mate. You pushed at him again, this time successfully pulling away.

Breathing heavily, you slapped him. “How dare you.”

He grinned. “I told you, you interest me. Now you shall be mine till life’s end.”

You broke from his grasp and walked to the other end of the room. “Why? Why me? I am not a demon; how do two complete opposites work together?”

The demon shrugged. “I have no idea, but there is a first for everything.”

He had you back in his arms before you could say any more, caressing your cheek. You pushed at him weakly. “I don’t even know your name.”

He chuckled. “Michaelis.”

“Do you have a first name?” you asked.

“I have many,” he replied, resting his head on your shoulder. “What is your name?”

“Orea Sutcliff,” you answered.

“Hmm,” he said, leading you back to his room.

Now you began to panic again. He saw your distress and stopped before the door. “I was only escorting you to the room, no need to worry.” He bowed. “Good-night.”

“Good-night.” You shut the door and sat down on the bed.

It was all coming so fast your head swam. What had just happened? One moment you were reaping souls and being attacked by drunkards, the next a demon saves you and marks you. You moaned and crawled under the covers, they were warm; closing your eyes, you fell asleep instantly.