Talk:Of Demons and Blue Moons

Fae aka Crown Princess Aimee Adrianna of the Guardian Rings Rather than go through the rigmarole of reciting her name and title, followed by an explanation of who, and what, she is, the main character of the story

Characters

Fae aka Crown Princess Aimee Adrianna of the Guardian Rings (The Main Character).
'Fae' by Piero Vettori

Rather than go through the rigmarole of reciting her name and title, followed by an explanation of who, and what, she is, a Faerie (Fairy) and the next in line to the throne of the Ring Realm, she would say, "I am Fae", and it stuck.

Fae, in her signature, 1930's style, big hat and mackintosh (but little else).

There are no male Faeries but no matter the species a Faerie chooses to mate with, the offspring will, as a rule, always be pure blooded female Faeries, although pregnancy only occurs if the Faerie is willing, with the exception of 'the demon seed'. If a demon couples with a Faerie, it is attempting to create a Succubus, by one of the two known methods, seduction and impregnation. A demon's seed will insidiously turn a Faerie into a Succubus and only by killing the demon, before the seed 'takes', can this be prevented.

Fae is the exception to the 'pure blood' rule as her mother, the incredibly beautiful Princess Lilliana, had caught the devil's eye and she was kidnapped, brought to hell, and imprisoned in order to persuade her to agree to become the devil's consort (The devil prefers his partners to be willing and un-possessed.) In order to escape, Lilliana seduced her gaoler, the most handsome of demons, and elicited his aid in leading her out of hell. Lilliana arrived safely at Ring's Palace of Light, she was, however, heavily pregnant with the gaoler's child and she herself was also changing, both physically, and in terms of personality. Lilliana gave birth to a beautiful baby, but, one who did not carry the royal birthmark, a fleur di lis, on her left buttock; instead, the baby bore two paw marks of a hound on the right one. Fae also carried within her a small, black flame, the ability to conjure dark magic, in addition to Faeries own white magic powers. Fae was born part Succubus, part witch and effectively an orphan, albeit a royal one.

Back in hell, the gaoler had been caught and brought before the devil. For laying with the devil's intended, and assisting her escape, the handsome gaoler was transformed into Cerberus, a hideously ugly, giant, three-headed hound and set to guard the gates of hell for all time.
'Cerberus' by Piero Vettori
Princess Lilliana abandoned her baby and fled back to hell, going willingly to the bed of the Prince of Darkness. She was, however, now tainted and unsuitable for the position of 'consort', in the devil's eyes. Princess Lilliana sat at the devils right hand but only as his favourite concubine and an instrument of extreme corruption. No longer the kind and beautiful Faerie princess, Lilliana's beauty increased and she became the Queen of Witches and the First among Succubi and whores, Lilith.
'Lilith' by Piero Vettori

Fae the warrior:-

Bold, courageous and as daring in combat as she is beautiful Fae is no stranger to battles, large, small and monumentally epic, she is an expert with spear, bow and sword. Indeed, her name is mentioned with awe on the supernatural world as that of a fearsome warrior and champion of the commoner, not the lord.
'Fae', in Eastern, light, armour': by Piero Vettori.
The Coat-of-Arms of the Ring royal house, with Fae's paw mark faction
Sword in hand, naked and sweaty with exertion, Fae raises desire in her enemies until they look into her eyes and hurriedly reassess the fight or flight decision process.

Fae, the witch:-

“You said you are a witch,” Scott queried. “As in witch?”
She nodded.
“I thought that you just knew a spell or two?”
“Whenever one harvests a demon, or another witch, I acquire their abilities and skills, in addition to their knowledge.”
She pulled up the folded down tops of the dragon rider boots, to spare the chain mail stockings digging into her knees against the oak floor of the deck, and knelt gracefully, setting aside her sword. The short leather kilt and chain mail were immediately replaced by a very short, open sided, druid’s virginal white robe and cowl, which left little to the imagination.
“There is ‘The White Path’, which some call the ‘Right Path’,” the cowl disappeared and a skimpy, even more revealing, grey tunic replaced it.
“Cinericius Via, the Gray Road, and less wholesome than the white, owing to its close parallels with the darker side of magic and the passion that it can generate.” He nipples were jutting out, pressing against the thin linen and her eyes were bright with excitement.
He had to ask.
“And the third?”
“The Left Hand Path? Well one is not a true adept,” she stated. “To be an adept is to give yourself, body and soul, to the devil,” she smiled at him. “In your parlance, I have not done the course, even though I have acquired rather more powers along those lines than many a dark sorcerer or Lady of the Black Flame. However, should I succumb to one’s mother’s wishes…”
The light within the cabin dimmed as if a dark cloud had obscured the sun. Fae changed, and not just visually, her hair became as black as jet, blowing behind her as if some strong wind howled through the cabin, effecting only her. The air held the heavy, sexual, scent of pheromones and lust. Her skin became as tanned as that of Lilith, with her lips and nipples, hard and urgent, turning a glossy black as the tunic disappeared. Black sigils and runes, edged in gold, etched her skin, beautifully tattooed by a master artist. Her expression was both frightening and wanton.
"Terra potestatibus Album",
"Lunae lucem in Inumbro",
"Flamma vero Niger fornicatio lucem",
"ut libidine regnat."
He felt himself drawn by those eyes in a way her succubus powers did not. Fae, the succubus, had desired his body whereas as Fae the third level witch wanted his soul.
“The Earth powers the White",
"Moonlight the Gray",
"But it is fornication that lights the Black Flame, so that lust holds sway", she translated.
The light returned and Fae was again kneeling in her leather kilt and chain mail.
He extended a hand to help her to her feet.
“Did you want me, or fear me, there at the end, Mr Bennett?” her eyes looked deep into his before she shook her head in censure.
“Too much of the first and far too little of the second,” she said sternly. “Should I fall, Mr Bennett, run from me as if your very life depended upon it, as rest assured it will!”
Resisting the temptation to kiss him for his feelings for her, she continued.
“The Fae you have those feelings for will have ceased to exist and I will use you as fuel before casting aside your husk when you are spent.”
Despite himself, he shivered and changed the subject.
“When were you home last?”
“Home?” she answered as if it was a silly question. “One may be the next in line to the throne, but one is most definitely persona non grata."
“Does that bother you?”
She shook her head as if the matter was a triviality.
“No.”
But Scott could see that it hurt.

Fae is incredibly old, older than humanity but her appearance varies between 19 years and 27 years, depending upon her mood.She can alter her appearance to best suit the desires of her intended bed partners, or as a disguise. As with all Faeries, Fae is promiscuous/hedonistic but sexual energy is also very attractive to her as a source of nourishment and a way to deal with her incredible loneliness. Fae seduces multiple strangers on a daily basis, trawling gymnasiums, fitness clubs and singles bars for brief, torrid interludes in doorways and shadowy alleyways as she seeks sustenance and the company of her partners, fleetingly, to assuage that loneliness. Fae outlives those who she loves and cares for, a feature, which led her down two dark paths, the first of these was a period where she secretly joined a devil-worshipping coven in order to find some way of inducing longevity into those she loves. However, once there, she was seduced by the sexual side of the ceremonies, the mass orgies that produce the energy to conjure black magic. The second instance of straying from the path of light was the accidental discovery of the ability of the poppy seed to blank out the void of loneliness within her. Despite her incredible wisdom, the combination of her enormous libido and her addiction to opium does, at times, overrule good sense and lead her into situations, and beds, which she would have avoided had she been clear headed.

Fae is also Moon-Cursed; the exposure of her bare skin to a full moon's light induces mindless nymphomania. The most deadly Luna ray is that which is produced by the rare, Blue Moon. Only with two entities can Fae strip off beneath a full moon and indulge her cravings without draining her lovers of all life, werewolves and the devil himself. Did she, or didn't she? is a question, which will appear at intervals throughout the story? The devil is her ultimate stalker, he requires Fae in order to bring about the fall of humankind by impregnating her with powerful demons, even more deadly than those seven he produced with her mother, Lilith.
'Fae and The Devil' by Ange10

Possibly, the devil's great desire her body, and for her to become the consort he had once hoped that Lilith would be, is what has kept her alive for so long, and un-transformed into a fully-fledged succubus. Her mother is the greater threat to Fae's life. Her jealousy at the devil's desire for her daughter and anger at having been denied the title of Queen of Hell have resulted in Lilith contracting demons, over the centuries, to either seduce, kill or turn Fae into a Succubus, whilst disguised as beautiful femmes or handsome males. Previously, Fae has always recognised demons for what they were and turned the tables, harvesting their powers during the act and slaughtering them at its end. When a partner, human, demon or otherwise supernatural entity, climaxes, it releases into Fae all of its knowledge and abilities. Fae can also read the minds of her lovers, after the act, and communicate with them telepathically. If she is coupling with a demon, she also harvests its powers before it burns, like a flare, and dies. Only the seven Shadow Demons can disguise themselves and only a few humans, such as Scott Bennett, can recognise them for what they truly are.

Scott Bennett

Scott Bennett, English, human, former Royal Marine Commando and member of the elite Special Boat Service. Scott was due to leave the Royal Marines, and take up a lucrative role as the close protection specialist for an A List Hollywood actor, but this was prevented due to severe burns incurred during his final tour in Afghanistan. Being of strong character, Scott overcame an addiction to morphine and painkillers, brought about by his medical treatment. His injuries also wrecked the dreams of his lovely, young wife, Sabrina, a professional dancer, whom Scott had met when attached to the US Special Forces and based in Nevada. Forced to live in reduced circumstances and on a run down, inner city, council estate, Scott is determined to earn a better life for Sabrina and becomes a licensed London black cab driver. On top of these woes, the burns have led to impotence and this is another burden for the married couple to bear.

Scott meets Fae in the early hours of a foul, winters morning, when she appears, seemingly out of thin air (via a portal, time slipping from 1938). Having delivered Fae to Borough Market, in Southwark, Scott sees a Shadow Demon follow her into an alleyway and gives chase. The demon has already stabbed Fae by the time Scott reaches them and is trying to bite out her throat. The demon hinders Scott using magic, but Fae seduces it, distracting it and apparently enjoying both of its penises, to the extent that the demon's spell wavers, allowing Scott to plunge Fae's enchanted dagger into it. Despite the demons mortal wound, Fae continued to copulated with it until it climaxed, releasing all of its knowledge, powers and abilities into her before she herself collapses from blood loss. Scott saves her by carrying her to her home and placing her in an ornate marble bathtub. The tub contains some form of magical, animated, substance and Fae pulls Scott into the bathtub on top of her. On regaining consciousness, Scott burn scars have all disappeared, as has his impotence, which he soon discovers as Fae seduces him in order to thank him for saving her life. Lilith puts out a demonic contract on Scott's head, for killing the shadow demon, and he joins Fae as her sidekick, shadow demon spotter and bodyguard.

Cerberus 'Cerberus' by Piero Vettori

Once upon a time, Cerberus had been the most handsome of Lucifer's fallen angels but he had allowed Fae's mother to use her body and Faerie charming magic to seduce him into helping her escape from hell. As punishment, for inseminating the devil's intended and helping her escape, Cerberus is transformed into the giant, three headed hound of legend. The relationship between father and daughter is complicated. On their first meeting, Fae was frolicking naked under a full moon with a favourite lover, a werewolf. She was under the mistaken belief that the devil wanted her so badly that she was now safe. Unfortunately, the devil's lust for Lilith's daughter was seen as a weakness by his rivals and a coup attempt soon followed. To secure his position, the devil offered Cerberus the chance to redeem himself by either delivering Fae to hell as a Succubus, or by laying her head at his feet, where all would-be rivals could see it. Fae was saved by her lover's courage and a timely cloud that covered the moon. Cerberus failed but Fae's lover was slain by the hellhound.

Cerberus leaves his post to warn Fae that the time of Hölle auf Erden is approaching and her meddling in his affairs has exasperated the devil. Lilith has been ordered to send all six remaining shadow demons to hunt her down, seduce her and turn her into a Succubus. He further warns her of the contract taken out on Scott and serpent demons will track him down and turn him into a hive for their young. Cerberus also delivers to Fae an invaluable weapon, the Shisha-no-Ken, the Japanese 'Sword of the Dead', so called due to the souls of warriors, 13 in all, trapped within it. The sword is in the form of a beautiful belly chain of gold, thirteen precious jewels, and musical, golden coins that tinkle as she moves. The Shisha-no-Ken belly chain The hellhound can also change its appearance, but only into another canine form, such a small, innocuous lap dog. Fae, through the looking glass, with Cerberus. Scott and Cerberus also have an odd relationship. Initially, Cerberus holds Scott in contempt, as much for being a puny, mortal, human as for Scott's longing for Fae. The one vice that Cerberus admits to is one acquired off Sir Walter Raleigh, cigarettes, the stronger, the better. --Andy Farman (talk) 13:13, 15 August 2015 (PDT)

'Clover' 'Clover, dragon rider' by Piero Vettori

Clover is a 5'4", petite and sweet, blonde, blue eyed singer, dancer and Ninja assassin. Clover is also dead, a ghost, murdered by one of her triplet siblings four hundred years before. Before the end of her short life, Clover, and her sisters, spent an uncomfortable time in a racially intolerant Japan. Clover's mother was a beautiful geisha and one who was ordered to care for, and pleasure, a visiting, blond haired and blue eyed, Russian general, from St Petersburg. Unable to find acceptance in normal Japanese society, the three girls were willing recruits into a sect of assassins. Using a cover, that of singing and dancing entertainers, the girls, 'Rose’, ‘Poppy’ and ‘Clover’, were able to move freely about the country and became known as the Ninja Mitsugo.

At just eighteen summers, the girls were contracted, by a female client, to kill a serial seducer, one who had broken her heart before abandoning her for another. The target was a charming, handsome man and the sisters, still virgins, fell under his spell instead of killing him. In secret, he seduced them one at a time, but eventually, of course, the girls learned the truth and turned on one another. Poppy stabbed Rose, Clover strangled Poppy, and finally Clover, stood in a room with her two dead sisters, drank a glass of saki that Rose had poured....

Clover occupied the only sapphire on the belly chain, entering Fae whenever the chain was transformed into the katana, adding her knowledge, skill, advice and muscle memory. There grew an affinity between Fae and Clover, with the long dead ghost in her head becoming the friend she craved and later, the lover she needed. Fae has no idea what Clover, or any of the other warrior souls, look like, not until entering a cave used by great apes to worship likenesses of both Lilith and Fae. A satanic spell, cast by Lilith to induce vanity in her daughter, has the side effect of allowing Fae to unpeel Clover's Ninja garb and discover, by touch, the beautiful girl who resided within the fabric's folds. Clover asks Fae to 'make love' to her but Fae refuses, reminding Clover that she 'only fucks' as making love is too emotionally painful. Consequently, she uses Clover as she does those girls she picks up for one-night stands, purely for their mutual, no strings attached, pleasure. Despite this, it firms up their strange Ghost advisor/friend - Mistress/friend relationship to the extent that she later threatens Cerberus with the demon slaying dagger if he attempts to harm the girl. Clover's weapon skills, particularly with Shurikenjutsu, skill with throwing stars, which she learned at the Dojo of Master Tadamasa, the inventor of the weapon, will be greatly needed, as the hunt for the shadow demons continues. The relationship between Clover and Scott will not be easy, owing, of course, to them both being in love with Fae.

The thirteen Shisha-no-Ken warrior souls

肉屋: Nikuya ‘The Butcher’	whose name said it all
船乗り: Funanori ‘Sailor’	a naval officer turned pirate.
チーフ: Chīfu ‘Chief’	headed a company of cut-throat sell-swords.
将軍: Shōgun ‘General’	lost a war but refused seppuku, the ritual suicide.
馬: Uma ‘Horse’	also gifted in ways not connected to the martial arts and his popularity with his superiors wives and daughters were his undoing.
ノーネーム: Nōnēmu ‘No Name’	a samurai who betrayed his master and bore a further curse which prevented him from uttering his name
小さい: Chīsana ‘Tiny’	a mountain of a man, food was his vice.
パイク: Paiku ‘Pike’	master horse archer, slew his own family in a fit of misguided rage.
カササギ: Kasasagi ‘Magpie’	a gifted warrior, turned master thief.
絹のような: Kinu no yōna ‘Silky’	Swordsman and con artist.
忍者トリプレット: The Ninja triplets	a trio of dancers, singers and assassins who fell in love with their final target and slew each other out of jealousy.
ローズ: Rōzu ‘Rose’
ケシ: Keshi ‘Poppy’
クローバー: Kurōbā ‘Clover’

--Andy Farman (talk) 13:17, 15 August 2015 (PDT)

Lilith : by Piero Vettori.
Lilith aka Lil'Lithe, world famous model, aka ‘Delilah’, ‘Hecate’, ‘Chedipe’, ‘Jezebel’, ‘Helen of Troy’, ‘Cleopatra’, ‘Oholibah’, ‘Aspasia’, ‘The Whore of Babylon’, ‘Phryne’, ‘Circe’ the original ‘Siren’ and 'Pandora' in addition to being both Guinevere and Morgana. The, one time, Crown Princess Lilliana of the Guardian Rings is Fae's mother, which automatically makes Fae part of Hell's royalty.

Lilliana was intended to be the Queen of Hell, Lucifer's consort but she traded her virginity for her freedom by seducing Cerberus, then a handsome demon, in order to escape. Despite returning willingly, once Fae had been born and the change into a Succubus was complete, the devil made her his concubine, not Queen.
'Fae & The Devil 2': by Ange10

It has long been suspected by Lilith that the devil desires her daughter, both in his bed and on the throne that she, Lilith, currently occupies as Queen Witch and First amongst Succubi and whores. There was once a rumour passed about, by the devil's bodyguards, that Fae had allowed him to find her at a satanic orgy, and that Fae, naked and beautiful, her body sweat glistering from the orgy, had invited him to take her on the altar.
Long after the other Satanists had departed, Fae and the devil coupled, again and again, but he did not take her head, nor her soul and neither did he lay his seed within her womb.
Violent death had silenced the bodyguards but the damage had been done and an attempted coup, in hell, had raged for a century.
Despite the devil breeding the seven, powerful, shadow demons with Lilith, she is right to feel insecure, even if the rumour was untrue.

'The Dutchman' aka Hendrick and 'Tween'

Nobody knows the true name of the Steward of Tween, although he was probably once known as Captain Hendrick Van Der Decken, the master of The Flying Dutchman. The individual known as 'Hendrick' is a shapeshifter, pimp, merchant of flesh, narcotics and anything worth trading, but he values information above all else. Tween is a bleak and barren place in time and space, sitting at the crossroads to the natural world, the supernatural realms and also hell itself. Tween is a special place, one where good and evil may not do battle. Tween offers the only safe passage between the worlds of men and that of the supernatural, firstly via ghostly paddle steamers that once plied the Mississippi, crossing a void known as 'The Flux' between Hamwic, in the realm of the Elves, and Dutchman's Ferry, a brothel and strip club on Tween. The remainder of the journey is accomplished via safe portals, ones that are not infested with soul stealing Banshees, madness dealing Horrors and acid spraying Bannacons. Neither ferry ride nor portals are free and although gold is acceptable it is secrets that are preferred.

Tween is a melting pot of denizens from many realms, but humans are a great rarity. Being the first port of call from the natural world, Tween sports high technology as well as the distinctly aged variety. All of these devices, Dutchman's Ferry and the ferries themselves, are all powered by the negative energy of unhappy souls, souls he receives as payment for services rendered to hell. Tween's dependence on this form of energy is a situation Hendrick is not happy with, he can be compelled to aid Lilith or the Devil by simple coercion, the threat of an embargo of souls can only be avoided by acquiring souls from another source, and only a Succubus, or half Succubus (Fae), can achieve that. The secret to the creation of his own Succubus is in learning the words to the spell of everlasting bondage and servitude, uttered after a Faerie, or half Faerie, is beheaded and the head is then replaced upon the stump before the heart ceases beating.

Hendrick desires Fae but he also covets her powers and abilities. If he could, somehow, compel her to work for him then the secret's of everyone she slept with would be his, for free. Faeries have no head for alcohol, they become even freer with their charms after imbibing and so it has become a ritual for Hendrick to ply Fae with expensive champagne to get her into his bed, although it always backfires and she ends up in someone else's. On Fae's previous visit, she had become drunk on a single glass of champagne and had not even bothered with a bed, nakedly, publically and uninhibitedly romping with Hendrick's, then, manager, Chebun the Minotaur, on the dance floor and tables. By way of revenge, Hendrick killed the Minotaur once Fae had departed and served him up as a barbecue. Chebun's replacement is Chaka, a werewolf from Senegal. Hendrick has also taken on a hideously ugly , shape-shifting Dwarf Satyr, Percus, to spy on both staff and guests by disguising himself as ordinary objects. Magical wards also collect information, acting in a similar fashion to CCTV.

Sabrina Bennett aka 'Sugar'

As a bright eyed teenager with a good body, ballet and dance class training, Sabrina had arrived in Las Vegas believing that she would be snapped up by one of the big dance companies that served the famous casinos. After a few auditions she had set her sights lower and sought work further down the famous strip at 'gentlemen's clubs' . Sabrina took the name ‘Sugar’ and paid her dues, starting off with bottom billing and coming onstage last when most of the customers had already tucked the bigger bills from their wallets into the other girls’ garters and boot tops. To be a dancer requires a touch of exhibitionism, whilst stripping takes quite a bit more and Sabrina found that she liked both having men looking at her body as well as wanting her. As her friend pointed out, if you could not handle being a wet dream for four score and more, you were in the wrong job.

Some of the girls were in relationships with each other but Sabrina did not even have a mildly curious bone in her body, and the other girls seemed to pick boyfriends who both leeched off them and made moves on other strippers. She avoided all of that too. She was a good girl, and the only outgoings her lover cost her were the price of new batteries. There were other pitfalls to the business and a criminal record for drugs, DUI or soliciting would bar her from ever achieving her goal. She rarely drank, she avoided drugs and she never engaged in ‘customer relations exercises’ with big tippers, after hours and off the premises. Her flatmate and some of the other girls had a different work ethic, but that was their business. As a state, Nevada had what could be viewed as the most sex-worker friendly laws in the USA, but that did not extend to the Las Vegas city limits, where the police department’s vice squad was always busy. Sabrina continued to attend auditions even though she would be earning less than if she was working the stage and private lap dance booths. She was going to be a showgirl and travel the world one day, and dance at 12 Avenue George V in Paris wearing a platinum wig.

She cultivated a style that was artistic and incorporated ballet as well as classical and contemporary dance, and it seemed to work well. After a year she went from a topless dance club to a fully nude gentlemen’s club and worked hard to put money in the bank to offset that voluntary drop in earnings when her dream job eventually became a reality. She hit the gym daily and attended dance classes on her free days and it all finally paid off with Sabrina walking on air after an audition with the most famous dance company in town, she had won the feathers, heels and body glitter.

When Scott had entered her life nothing could have made her happier, but those feelings were leeched away after he was injured and her love withered with it. The last of her hard earned money had gone towards a share in the cab he drove nightly but the returns were slow in coming. She had been supportive but dreams die hard and she became embittered. Where once it had warmed her heart to see his face she now experienced contempt and a form of loathing. Sabrina went back to dancing, working for the shady Neville Dunganon, the owner of ‘Vixens’, a strip club in London. She had become quite a good actress over the last couple of years and Scott, of course, trusted her. When Scott was working from eight in the evening until eight in the morning Sabrina rarely went straight home. Whereas she had never considered selling after hours services when she was in Las Vegas ,she now let high rollers know that she available for the right price, and although that price was high there was no shortage of admirers who were willing to pay it. Neville not only knew about her out of hours activity behind her husband’s back, but he capitalised on it. When he was fêting potential investors it was Sabrina whom he paid to accompany them back to their hotel to seal the deal. Sabrina aka 'Sugar' by Ange10 In the same way that Sabrina had made a discovery about herself when she had first begun stripping, she now found it thrilling that men would pay to get her into their beds, and once there she found the illicit nature of what she was doing incredibly exciting, more than filling the void created by Scott’s impotence. Sabrina was enjoying her work and the money was her aphrodisiac. The cash she brought home was enough to prove that she was pulling her weight, but the bulk of her earnings were deposited into an account her husband knew nothing of. Despite this, Fae is guilt ridden at enthralling Sabrina but that does not stop her from becoming Sabrina's first sapphic lover. 'Fae and Sabrina' by Ange10

Neville Dunganon

Vixens owner is on the distinctly shady side of the business. He pimps his dancers and ignores the 'no touching' rules that other establishments adhere to. By having local authority, and police officers, on his payroll he is in no danger of being raided. Sabrina is an asset who brings customers into the club and who leaves with the big spenders, cutting him in on a share. Sabrina Bennett, aka 'Sugar'.

Derek Kingston

Derek is Neville's Number 2, a steroid enhanced ex-doorman from Jamaica with a rep for murder. Derek has had eyes for Sabrina for a long time but he is unaware that she plans him to be closely involved in ridding her of Scott.

Chaka

Chaka, formerly a native of French West Africa, the Senegalese manager of Dutchman's Ferry was bitten by a werewolf many years before but the circumstances of his being in Hendrick's employ are a mystery. Despite a serious case of sexual un-fulfilment running back for years, Chaka does not like Fae, despite her elegance and poise he considers her to be la poufiasse, no better than a common slut. His mood is one of being just a short step from releasing the werewolf within and giving over to uncontrolled rage. Only after Hendrick explains to her why it is that Chaka is "In more dire need of a blowjob than any werewolf alive," does Fae decide to provide him with the very thing. By being intimate with Chaka, she has of course created another source of intelligence to tap into, although Werewolves are notoriously difficult to mind read.

Percus

Dwarf Satyrs are similar to Faeries inasmuch as they have only one gender, but they are male and unlike Faeries they are two foot tall and hideously ugly. The two reasons why it is that they have not become extinct are simply that they are so well endowed that they require a tail of similar proportions to act as a counter-balance. The counterbalancing tail is hinge jointed and does do double duty. I am sure that you can work out how. 'Fae, Percus and the lipstick tally' by Piero Vettori Indeed, a very drunk Fae is able to do as many girls do and look beyond the wart bespeckled skin and furry hindquarters in order to see these two benefits. Next morning, Percus has kept used Fae's lipstick to keep score on her buttocks. Fae is shamefaced and Percus is bragging to all who will listen.

Sir William D'Rollin-Sonn

An Elvan Knight of limited financial means, Sir William married a portly spinster for money and spends as much time from home as possible, adventuring as a mercenary in medieval wars on the natural world. Charming and handsome, Sir William blatantly pursues Fae with the intention of bedding her in ways that other well bred girls would not contemplate. Fae is likewise attracted to the roguish Elf but circumstance seem determined to thwart each attempt at permitting him to realise his desires. Sir William's connection to Igrett, and his presence on the ill fated passage of 'The Kraken 100' and the Paladin 'Spears', make him a figure of mistrust, initially, but his reckless bravery and skill with his sword dispel that question mark over his character. Sir William becomes a friend, comrade-in-arms and trusted advisor to Fae.

Erik Voldargamar and Valkeria.

Prince Eric Voldargamar of Valkeria is the commander of a Free Company, (mercenaries), The Kraken 100. They do not fight for money so much as the joy of battle. The Kraken 100, motif Having once been the residents of what later became Scandinavia, it is easy to see where the legends of the Norse Gods originated. Muscular, eight feet tall and blond, the ruggedly handsome Erik is no stranger in Fae's bed, and she is no stranger in The Kraken's shield wall during wars and campaigns in both the supernatural world and the natural one, in times before the coming of gunpowder. Although his wife is fully aware of what Erik gets up to when away campaigning, she and Fae are good friends.

Erik values Fae as a friend and comrade-in-arms, and his farther, King Ulbricht, desires her as a daughter-in-law, if Erik's present wife remains barren.

Fae is believed to be no more than a beautiful Faerie princess, next in line to the throne of Ring, and a failed diplomat and peacemaker who prefers a good fight to a boring debate. Valkerians are intensely superstitious and the burners of witches, so although they accept her white magic, Fae must keep both her grey and black magical powers completely hidden. Fae's true parentage, and origins, must also remain secret.

When Fae happens upon Erik and The Kraken 100 at Dutchman's Ferry, their numbers are greatly reduced to the level that they had been forced to amalgamate with a Paladin spear company. A terrible ambush had been sprung whilst both free companies had traversed a non-Tween controlled portal. The possibility that they were betrayed, and the involvement of The Dutchman, runs high. Never before had such large numbers of warriors been attacked in a portal. The ambush sends ripples through the supernatural world, affecting commerce and industry, particularly that of gold working, which require travel between the world's of men and those of supernatural beings.

Igrett Voldargamar

Erik's sister is tall, blonde and breathtakingly beautiful. She is a skilled and courageous warrior, she is also psychotic and madly in love with her brother, in a completely incestuous, but unrequited, fashion. Fae and Igrett have been lovers, indeed Igrett seduces all of her brother's lovers in an attempt to discover what it is about them that her brother finds attractive enough to bed them. Her lust for Erik is a badly kept secret, everybody knows but no one talks about it, including Erik, who hopes that it is a phase she will one day grow out of. Princess Igrett's hatred of Fae knows no bounds and she has vowed to cut out her eyes and drag back to Valkeria in chains where she will make curtains of her skin, once her war hounds have done with her.

Igrett's involvement in the portal ambush can only be guessed at. She vouched for Sir William and the pair acted as forward scouts, navigating the portal unmolested. Only Scott, suspects a connection between Igrett and Hendrick but he rules out Sir William as an accomplice due to his bravery and frequent interventions, sword in hand, to aid Fae.

Beatrice-of-the-Vale

Paladins are a nation of mercenaries, it provides the national income, fighting for coin, not glory, unlike the Valkerians. Beatrice is a tall, beautiful, master Javelineer. She is a lesbian and falls for Fae at first glance, delaying her journey home, and the seeking of fresh employment. Beatrice joins Fae, Scott and Cerberus in their journey to the Sky Citadel, to take part in the world cup final of jousting 'The King's Sword'. Initially, Beatrice shows unveiled contempt for Scott, a puny, dim witted human male, and one undeserving of his place in Fae's affections, and bed.

Dedark-the-One-Eye

Dedark is a Valkerian, axe wielding, berserker of many summers. Grey haired and much scarred, he is nonetheless a muscular giant of a warrior. To all appearance, when stood side by side with the 5'10" Fae, the 8' berserker seems old enough to be her grandfather. Fae is intensely fond, and loyal to Dedark, who lost his eye to an arrow but refused to abandon her to a horde of Orcs' intent on rape. Dedark carries with him a set of loaded dice, ones that he uses to trick maidens into his bed. Fae knows of the loaded dice but still engages in betting with the elderly warrior on the roll of the dice. It is a small price to pay, in her eyes, for the loyalty that Dedark once showed her in a burning citadel.

Cassandra of Paladin

Cassandra, a princess of Paladin, warrior and captain of a free company, 'The Spears' or 'Cassandra's Spears' as they are sometimes called. The inverted griffin is their symbol and was once gold coloured, as golden as their leader’s hair, until it became stained with the blood of a predatory sea dragon which she slew. The odd red patch on the motif is in recognition of that event. The Inverted Griffin

Cassandra and Fae are close, indeed Cassandra’s first born girl child is named 'Fae'. Fae is distressed to learn that Cassandra commanded the rearguard in the portal battle but has thus far failed to emerge. She must be presumed dead, along with the rest of the rearguard.

Prince Hagar the Short

Hagar's title is a jocular dig at his great height, he is an experienced warrior, general of the Sky Realm armies and extremely arrogant.
When Fae enters 'The King's Sword' as a contestant she does so under her real name, Princess Aimee Adrianna, and Hagar dismisses her as being a silly little girl in pink armour who he intends to beat, bed and boast about, in that order.
He is in for a rude shock.

Abigail Corcoran

Abigail was seduced by Lilith, in the disguise of a pretty nun, when she was a pupil at an exclusive girl's boarding school. Years later, Abigail, already a talented PA and master of IT communication skills that demons and supernatural beings lack, willingly allowed a demon to possess her in order that she could better serve her mistress, the world famous fashion and photographic model, Lil' Lithe (Lilith).
The internationally famous lingerie and swimwear company, Monique’s Mystère that Lilith now owns, has been renamed 'Devil's Advocate' and is a major force in corrupting world leaders through the charms of its top models.
Although Abigail is one of Lilith's many lovers she is quick to take up an invitation from the devil to visit his bed, an action that was calculated by the devil to punish Lilith for her poor handling of Fae's capture.

--Andy Farman (talk) 02:03, 17 August 2015 (PDT)

Faeries, Succubus and Shadows.

SUCCUBUS :

Noun, plural succubi. [suhk-yuh-bahy]

1 - Any demon or evil spirit (Hebrew and Christian religious definition)

2 - A strumpet, prostitute, jezebel, trull or harlot (Common usage)

3 - A Succubusˣ is a female demon or supernatural entity in folklore that appears in naked form in order to seduce men and women, usually through sexual activity.

ˣA Succubus is created by one of two methods, either the seduction of a Faerie by a demon, usually in the guise of a lover or harmless creature, or alternatively by slaying the Faerie at her most vulnerable moment, beheading her and immediately replacing the head before the heart ceases beating whilst uttering the words of everlasting servitude and bondage.

FAERIE

Noun, plural fairies. [fare-ree]

A Faerie (also fay, fairy) is a resident of the supernatural world that exists in parallel with the natural world of mortal men. They are possessed of magical powers, longevity and great beauty. Faeries are greatly desired by other residents of the natural and supernatural worldˣˣ as well as the denizens of hellˣˣˣ.  

SHADOW

Noun, plural shadows. [shad-doh]

1 - a dark figure or image cast on the ground or some surface by a body intercepting light. 2 - a hint or faint, indistinct image. 3 – one of The Seven shadow demons created by the first Succubus, Lilith. They are endowed with great powers and cunning in order to bring about Hölle auf Erden (Hell on Earth) through the subtle possession of national figuresˣˣˣˣ.

ˣˣA word of advice to the romantic pursuers of the fair and graceful Fay; mortals may not survive the night if the object of their desires is successfully wooed to bed. The Fay’s energy and libido are legendary.

ˣˣˣA further word of advice, to those seeking to harvest the Faeries beauty and charms thereby create a Succubus, the graves of those demons who tried and failed are legion in number, whilst the ranks of the Succubus are thin indeed.

ˣˣˣˣ Not to be confused with notable possessions in history by lesser demons who revealed themselves by gratuitous rapine and blood-letting.

A few things you may not know about the planet Earth:

1 - It exists in different dimensions, the Natural realm of Man, and the Supernatural. 2 - The dimensions co-exist. 3 - Inter dimensional time travel is possible but only between the past and present. 4 - The future can be visited but it can best be described as a ‘work in progress’, it changes by the nano-second. --Andy Farman (talk) 03:04, 15 August 2015 (PDT)

Trivia

The original book cover was banned from advertising, despite hair-bra and parapet ensuring that Fae showed no more flesh than if she had worn a long skirt and bikini top.

'Fae', aka 'Aimee', is based upon a real, and unidentified, guest at a ball held at Buckingham Palace. The figure on the book cover is a close render of a pale skinned and ethereal beauty who wore a thin, wet dress. The dog's paw tattoo on the right cheek showed up through the wet material and her friend called her 'Amy'.
Some years later, and once more at Buckingham Palace, the recollection spawned the germ of a short story, The Shadows Between Moments, the basis of this story.

Copyright © 2014 Andy Farman

        All rights reserved.

The Shadows Between Moments

By Andy Farman, May 2005

No one was abroad at that time in Park Lane that February morning. A frigid arctic wind cut across the park and lowered the surface temperature of The Serpentine by two degrees closer to freezing.
It moaned around the byways and highways of north London, and whistled through a perished window seal in the only black cab still on the rank, as it sat there with a weak internal light behind steamed up windows.
The cabbie shivered in these surroundings that so matched his mood.
The Lions poor performance against the All Blacks was equally fitting as he listened to match commentator describe their lack lustre showing, live on the radio.
A fog of vapour from the cab’s exhaust hung briefly between gusts before being whipped away. The diesel engine idled in an effort to keep the icy chill at bay, but Scott Bennett, former soldier and husband to a younger and increasingly embittered wife, grew poorer with each turn of the engine.
He looked at the clock on the dash, noting the second hand sweep around to 4am, beating the BBC time tone by a second.
His cheap but functional mobile phone was plugged into the cigarette lighter to keep it fully charged and beside it, a rag was stuffed into the aperture that normally held an ashtray. He took up the rag from off the dashboard and wiped away the condensation from the screen immediately in front of himself, and again from his side window.
Burn scars on the back of his hand showed clearly, as he wiped.
Replacing the cloth to its former position he spent a moment looking at the visible scar tissue, painfully aware it extended beneath his clothing, up his arm and flank to his back and neck.

The sudden manic drumroll of hailstones on the roof and sides of the cab drowned out the BBC World Service and raised a foot high fog of shattered and pulverised ice particle where they dashed themselves to destruction against the tarmac road and the Portland stone of both buildings and pavements.
With a shake of his head, he switched off the internal light and amber ‘For Hire’ lamp, and checked his mirrors before pulling out.
He had gone only a hundred yards before the fierce drumming became that of a howling thing, as if attempting to strip the paint off the cab and reduce it to a wreck.
With the wipers going full on he could still see nothing ahead and so the cab slowed, pulling cautiously to the kerb to wait out nature’s tantrum.
That is when he saw her.

The flawless skin of her face was almost corpse-like with a peach tinge it was so pale. However, she exuded health and vitality, which were at odds with that almost pallid appearance.
Through curiously jade eyes, she peered through the glass of his side window. There was intelligence in abundance looking into his eyes and holding his gaze boldly and he froze, held by those eyes, which now seemed flecked with grey.
She tapped on the widow with knuckles encased in bottle green leather gloves, which fit like a second skin to long slim fingers.
Her mouth moved. Her lips were peach and highlighted the whiteness of her perfect teeth.

With a start he realised he was gawping at her and hurriedly wound down his window, the icy wind instantly stealing away the warmth from within the cab.
“I do hope that I am not too late?”
He was immediately struck by her voice. Oxford English accent with clearly pronounced words, so very ‘Old School’ and proper.
“One does hope that you would indulge me by accepting my fare?”
Who on earth speaks like that anymore, he asked himself. He tried to guess her age but at first glance, she seemed perhaps nineteen, whilst in the second she was a youthful twenty-seven or eight? The light and the hour were ganging up on him, he decided.
“No, certainly, no bother Miss.”
She wore an old-fashioned wide brimmed hat, one long out of style, canted down to the left and secured with hat pins. Her hair was an unnatural red as if dyed, and rolled, bunched and pinned elegantly at the sides and back in a 1940’s style.
A silvery scarf was worn about her slim throat, and another item to add to the retro look, a mackintosh that was obviously of good quality whilst being of an old fashioned weave.
Three inch heels and a thin clutch bag, both of the same leather as her gloves finished off the look perfectly. However, he had the bizarre impression that she was naked beneath the coat, but as she did not appear to be unduly affected by the temperature that was obviously false.

She was smiling a strange little smile as if she was used to being looked at. Her eyes, now an odd aquamarine, twinkled in amusement.
Scott realised he was staring again and apologised, leaving the cab to stand in the full force of the hailstones and went to open her door for her.
She was, he realised to his surprise, just shorter than his six feet without those heels.
She smiled at him for his politeness, stepping back to allow the door to be opened and then she seated herself with graceful elegance and poise, her knees together with hands atop and back straight. As he closed the door he paused, suddenly surprised at himself for having extended that old world courtesy to this strange young woman.
As he climbed back behind the wheel the cold kiss of ice water from melting stones ran down inside his own scarf and collar, painful where it touched the burn scars. He took the cloth to mop it away and in the rear view mirror, he saw the girl/woman looking at the burn tissue revealed by that action and he self-consciously pulled the scarf up to hide them.
“Where to, Miss?”
“Bedale Street, please.” She said, and then with a gentle smile added “I trust one does venture south of the river at this hour?”
He looked at her reflection in the mirror as she sat back and removed the scarf to reveal a pale throat plunging into cleavage shadow.

She did not remove the hat, nor the gloves, but presented a profile in silhouette as she looked through steamed up side window, as if her view was unobstructed by the fogged glass, and unimpeded by the darkness.
The hail storm had abated as suddenly as it had begun, so he started the meter and put the cab into gear, indicating and pulling out once more.
Now in motion, the light from the street lamps briefly illuminated the passenger compartment and he looked again in the mirror.
It was extraordinary.
One moment that profile was of a lovely teenager, but one with a knowing air, not a maiden, and with the next passing of a street light she was a young woman of quiet wisdom and experience in all manner of things.
He braked hard, distracted by her mystery and almost running a red light at Constitution Hill and without turning her head, she smiled secretly as if aware that she had been the cause.

He followed the Embankment, turning to cross the river at Blackfriars and turning again at the other side into Southwark Street. The clouds had thinned, skittering across a full winter’s moon and the girl eased back from the silver light, pulling down the hat brim to put her face in shadow.
The roadway shone wetly in the moonlight, but it seemed that they were alone in the world as only their cab's tyres splashed through the puddles.

Scott turned left onto Bedale Street.
“Would you be so kind as to stop beneath the railway arch, please?” she asked, and Scott duly pulled over within its shadow.
She alighted and stood beside his door, opening the clutch bag and extracting a large white note with elegant flowing printed script and the note's value printed in words rather than numerals upon it. He frowned and switched on the interior light only to find that it was in fact a crisp new ₤50 note.
He reached for his wallet, knowing he had insufficient change in his cash box, but she stopped him with a hand upon his arm.
“No, please keep the change.” She said “I really am most grateful.”
She turned then, and to him she seemed to view the moonlit street beyond the shadows with some trepidation, pulling up her collar and tipping the hats brim down a little further as if about to brave a downpour.
Then she was gone, crossing the road and entering an alleyway beside the arches, walking quickly toward Borough Market.

Scott let out the handbrake and pulled away. Before him, the looming tower of Southwark Cathedral cast its moonlight shadow across the road and he glanced into the rear view mirror prior to turning into Winchester Walk.
Something, some dark shapeless mass, detached itself from the deep shadows beneath the bridge and loped into the alleyway also.
With a screech of brakes the cab stopped and then there followed the sound of gears and the high pitch whine of the cab reversing at speed.
Scott leaned to one side and steering one handed as he looked behind until back beneath the railway arch.
He braked to a halt but did not waste time taking it out of gear or setting the handbrake, and the cab juddered and stalled as he released the clutch and left the cab, stuffing the mobile phone into his coat’s breast pocket before breaking into a run as he heard her scream in both pain and mortal terror.

He carried an eight cell Maglite, all he could legally get away with as regards self-defence, but it was the equivalent of a steel alloy club.
The mouth of the alleyway was an unlit maw, but he ran across the road, his passage punctuated by the sound of his shoes splashing in the puddles left by the hail storm and that of his breath fogging in the bitter cold.

His eyes had no time to adjust to the blackness, but he did not switch on the torch. He had no idea what this aggressor was and chose instead to give as little warning of his own approach as possible. Several paces inside the alley his foot struck something that spun off to ring like a wind chime against the Victorian brickwork of the railway viaduct.
He bent, fingers finding first the clutch bag and then something sharp that raised a curse from him. It was some form of knife.
A scream of terror rent the night and he straightened, pounding onwards as he saw a faint glow ahead that marked the alleyways end, his foot connected with one of her shoes, kicking it to spin ahead of him but he did not pause again.
The alleyway cut beneath the arches and into the sleeping market place, and there on the cold stone flagstone was her discarded mackintosh, torn across the back by some sharp object and the edges of the tear were wet with blood.

Dark green wrought iron pillars held aloft the old arching glass roof, and green painted rigid mesh dividers defined the individual market traders’ plots.
Large 250 watt bulbs hung down from the roof but they gave off only a sickly yellow glow as their power was being somehow leeched away, leaving the interior in gloom and deep shadow.

She screamed again, a desperate sob of despair and he turned to locate the source.
The movement of her long pale kicking legs caught his eye. Twenty feet away she was pinned a full two feet clear of the ground, her back pressed against one of the wrought iron pillars.
Naked hip and flank, and of course her face with fear writ large upon it were all that he could see apart from the kicking legs.
Incongruously the old fashioned hat was still in place, and a silvery waist chain adorned a drum tight abdomen and slim hips.
He could not focus upon any part of whatever it was that had her in its grip, its edges were undefined and it was as if she were being eclipsed by the darkest of shadows.
Her head was rearing away from it defensively and although he could not see her arms, he imagined she was somehow attempting to push it away from her throat.

In his hands, he held the torch, clutch bag and what he could now see to be an ornate silver dagger of some feather light metal. It was obviously sharp, as his own blood now smeared the blade from a deep cut on the inside of his index finger.
He dropped the bag and torch, reversing the blade to point downwards in his fist, the proper grip for knife fighting.
He ran at it and he saw her eyes flick to him.
Was that hope he saw in her expression?
Whatever it was, it seemed to alert her attacker to his presence.
He was sprinting, his head down and the blade held low, closing the distance rapidly, but in the space of a heartbeat the weak glow from the bulbs dimmed further and the air seemed to thicken about him. It was as if he was in one of those dreams where you try to run but your legs fail to respond. The handle of the dagger became hot, quite painfully so.
He gasped aloud, his instinct for self-preservation telling him to drop it.
The spark of hope in her expression turned to that of despair, and he gritted his teeth, retaining hold of the silver blade even though he could feel blisters forming.
That spark returned as she saw the determination and resolve in his features, and his eyes narrow as he focused upon her attacker and not the pain in his hand.

He in turn saw something alter in her face, the terror turned to lust and then the grimace distorting her mouth relaxed. Her lips parted and a pink tongue dampened them suggestively.
Those long legs ceased their defensive strikes and opened submissively, opened wide, wrapping around the thing.
Immediately her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in surprise as she was apparently penetrated…and momentarily she emitted a slight gasp as she was also invaded elsewhere, too. Her hands appeared, clasping together as if supporting herself behind a neck he could not see. Her ankles met and linked.
She was no longer pinned immobile but rose and fell noticeably. She was no longer the prey, no more the victim, but now the eager and willing partner.
Her skin had begun to glow.
Her back hollowed, she thrust her pelvis forward and her face turned uppermost with eyes closed and mouth open, lost to coital lust, pinioned pleasurably at two points.
She gave herself over to carnality and urged the thing to greater efforts in a language almost song-like.

He almost stumbled as the air thinned once more and in ten paces, he was leaping high, bringing back the arm and looking for some clue as to where to strike.
He brought the arm forward and down, hammering the blade into the darkest part of the shadow.

Its scream made him gasp in pain, so high pitched it was agony to his eardrums, and then something swatted him away, sending him flying across the cold concrete to fetch up against the steel mesh partition of an Ostrich meat vendors rented pitch.
It screamed again, twisting as if trying to unseat the blade, but the girl hung on, retaining her grip on the thing and its appendages, which she still rode.
A fracture, for want of a better word, appeared where the blade pierced it and spread outwards. It screamed and screamed again as the dark mass which was its body began to crack, and vivid, angry green light appeared from with the fractures.

Scott lay on the icy concrete twelve feet from them and he felt a waft of heat at first, married to the light that was painful on the eyes, as if peering into a blast furnace.
The shadows within the market fled, evicted from nooks and crannies as the cracks multiplied and the light increased as a result. The girl now was completely aglow, gasping and emitting little animal sounds of pleasure.
The things screams were almost pitiable and it shook, twisted and turned as it attempted to unseat the girl but she clung on, riding it, her face taking on the pre orgasmic stare but her face was transformed by the light into something demonic and yet erotic, something of awful beauty.
With a screech it toppled backwards, screaming in agony as the light gave way to green flame. The fractures joined and chunks of shadow fellow away, replaced by searing heat and green flame. The girl rode on, illuminated in green fire and consumed with a passion that burned brighter than the flames, cowgirling the demon into the very fires of hell.

He could no longer watch; the light seared his eyeballs even when clenched shut and the heat was unbelievable. He threw a protective arm up to shield his eyes and face from the heat and light. Scott called out to her, trying to alert her to her danger but he heard himself scream as the thing burst apart, a green fire ball consuming all it touched.
And in the midst of it all, he heard her crying out in the throes of orgasm.

He blacked out, though just for a moment.
The market was in absolute darkness until slowly the lights reappeared, weakly at first but quickly growing to their normal output.
Stars danced before his eyes, the retinal ghosts, the after images imprinted by the things fiery demise, but as those faded he blinked and looked about.
No charred beams or leaping flames greeted him, just the bitter cold and the harsh electric light thrown out by 250 watt bulbs.
He sat up and looked urgently toward where the girl had surely enjoyed the final climax of her existence, and he gaped as he saw her, her skin no longer aglow, kneeling naked but for the wide brimmed hat, above a patch of cold and grubby concrete upon which the odd silver dagger lay. She reached out, grasped the dagger by its handle…and toppled face first onto the unyielding surface, her bare back coated in blood leaking from a wound.

He ran over to her and knelt, examining the wound with a battlefield medic’s eye, noting the puncture to the left side if her back was too irregular to have been caused by a blade. It was deep and had nicked the aorta; she was bleeding out internally, into the left side of her chest cavity, the weight of blood collapsing her left lung so that the slight peach tinge to her skin was now turning blue. He saw with surprise what he initially took to be the tattoos of a pair of dog’s paws on her right buttock, which was completely at odds with the person who had entered his cab, but he then saw that they were in fact bizarre birthmark.
“It’s not too bad.” He told her calmly as he removed his coat and laid her on its edge in the recovery position with the wound bottom most, and pulling the free end over her torso to add warmth and delay the onset of shock.
“I need to call an ambulance.” He reached into his jacket’s breast pocket.
“No” she said feebly. "Please don’t…”
His jaw dropped.
The battery was flat, completely drained.
He ran to retrieve the bag, and then the coat, checking its pockets but finding only a lace handkerchief and a set of rather old fashioned and heavy door keys.

Running back over he knelt, smiling reassuringly.
“No signal here, sorry.”
She was corpse pale now and cold to the touch, her voice weak.
“Please take me home, I have a phone there…”
The modern mobile phone had killed off the once abundant red street corner callboxes, and everywhere was shut so he gathered her up in his arms and stood.

“Which way?”

The pale and semi naked redhead, still wearing that hat and gripping the dagger as the battered but unbowed cab driver held her in his arms and hurried between the locked and barred market stalls.

Her directions took him across the market to another alleyway and then to a railway arch bearing a peeling sign declaring it to be ‘SJ Claydon Accident Repairs & MOT’s’.
The rust on the padlock securing the main doors was a good indication that SJ Claydon was out of the car repair business, but the small side door boasted an old, but polished, brass lock.
Scott carried her through the door and missed a step as he took in the interior.
No hoists, no inspection pits and no Page 3 Calendars depicting the lovely Tracey Elvik or Rachel Garley. They could instead have been stood in the drawing room of a private house in the late 1930s, indeed King George V’s frowning aspect held pride of place on the wall where Ms Elvik’s charms would otherwise have brightened your day.
“The back…” she said, her voice as weak as a shades.
He could see no telephone and passed through the room into a hallway far long that a building such as this should contain and there before him, next to an umbrella stand was a side table with a large antique telephone upon it.
He rolled his eyes, dismissing it and hurriedly carried her to a bathroom tiled white from floor to ceiling, and which held only an ornately carved white marble bath, apparently fashioned from a solid block, inlaid with gold and ultramarine, the goddess Gaea depicted on all four sides.
Still no phone and he turned, stepping back from the doorway.
“NO…in the bath, put me in the bath…” she pleaded in a voice all but spent.
He had to put her down somewhere anyway, and so he let the coat fall and bent with the intention of placing her there whilst he searched properly for a working telephone.
He began lowering her carefully down, still wearing that hat, and Scott only saw the liquid when it shimmered and then moved, as clear as fresh water but it held no reflection, and tendrils reaching up from its surface and grasping her.
It pulled, and he resisted, bracing his knee against the baths marble side he attempted to straighten up, determined not to lose this casualty, not as he lost the last ones.
No, not this time!
Her arm curled up and around his neck, pulling his face down to hers, her mouth finding his and locking onto to his lips, draining his strength so quickly he overbalanced and toppled forward.
He let go of her and put out both hands to arrest his forward motion but when they met the clear liquid, he tried to scream in agony.
Her mouth covered his, stifling the screams as he relived the phosphorous grenade in his webbing pouch exploding as a bullet struck it, covering in fire the wounded mother and her child he had been tending beside a road in Helmand.
She dragged him down with her, into the liquid, into oblivion.

The harshness of the light upon the sterile white tiled room intruded upon his unconscious, pulling him from comatose state to confused awareness.
He was on his back upon the tile floor beside the marble bathtub. A stunningly beautiful redhead wearing only a wide brimmed hat was sat astride his hips.
He knew her from somewhere but he could not recall where, which was ridiculous because from toned flat belly to full firm and natural breast she was not exactly forgettable.
She smiled down at him, a beautiful woman with the most intelligent, wise eyes he had ever seen. “Thank you.”
Those eyes were green and entrancing, as was the rise and fall of those perfect breasts with each breath she took.
He blushed deeply with the realisation he was both naked and becoming aroused.
Her eyes flared wide momentarily as she also became aware of that second fact, and a mischievous look hovered upon features that now seemed oddly that of a young lady no more than twenty.
She shifted her hips forward a mite and he groaned.
Her nipples hardened and she became moist.
“You aren’t helping.” he complained.
“You started it.” She said with a happy laugh, and moved again, becoming even more excited than he was. “And one merely reacts accordingly,” she finished with a wink.
She giggled girlishly at his expression, and he now looked into eyes more grey than green.
She stopped moving and held up both palms in truce.
“Firstly,” she stated. “One is indeed entirely indebted to you for venturing to my rescue…there are few who would have.”
“What, exactly happened?” he was still confused as to where he was and what brought him there.
She looked down at him for a moment; her pretty lips pursed as she considered some dilemma, but then lowered her torso onto his, her breasts flattening against his chest and once more she locked her mouth to his.
His query was still unanswered when she broke the kiss and sat up, the truce broken as he slipped into her, but she did not object, far from it.
“I’m married…” he said, but she held one finger up to her lips signaling him to be silent.
He watched her rise and fall, a look of unfeigned lust in her eyes as she rode him as she had done the demon.

^{<<She had not used her succubus powers to swamp the demon with desire, rather than she had instead circumvented its instruction to kill her and harvest her life force. She had allowed it free reign to attempt a most rare event, the slaying of a faerie at the moment of her orgasm and thereby creating a Succubus forever bound to do its bidding.
It had failed, venting its essence into her whereupon she who took ownership of its power, its abilities and most important of all, its memories, all of which had been locked away in that very seed.
Her orgasm had been incredible, as it always was on acquiring new knowledge.>>}

Now, she rode her saviour, her wounded knight mounted upon a steed jointly rented by two other cabbies beside himself.
Her name was Fae, simply that. She had given up her clan name when she had abandoned her family and titles.

Once upon a time, a lithe and lovely Faerie Princess had caught the eye of a fallen one, and that fallen one had succeeded in that rarest of all deeds. However, he had not just created a Succubus; he also begat a child.
Fae had never felt truly at home within the family clan, not truly accepted or trusted. Having Lilith as a Mother and calling Cerberus, ‘Daddy’, is after all far more baggage than most are laboured with.

Fae was a charmer in as much as she could instill in others a desired level of liking for herself, be that the unconscious act of opening a door and tipping their hat to her, or a desire that over rides reason, common sense, or even sanity.
From a humans fluids she could read them like a book. Every sight, every sound and every thought ever experienced were revealed to her at the moment of climax.
She would know that person better than they knew themselves, as she was herself unhampered by emotions that fogged their own reasoning.
Of course having been inside a person’s head it was then a simple thing to manipulate their memories, or erase them.

Fae’s orgasms always followed so quickly her lover’s climax as to be almost simultaneous. Within a heartbeat of Scott’s eyes rolling back in his head she knew all that there was to know about him, and much that he had forgotten, and some thing’s that he had failed to realise.
He was panting, flushed with exertion and awash with blissful well-being, and then his wife’s face appeared in his mind.
Guilt washed over him.
He screwed up his eyes and gritted his teeth, and when he opened them again she was looking down at him with a strangely sad little smile.
“She . is . not . worthy . of . you.” Her voice rang clearly in his head but her lips had not moved.
“Pardon?” he asked.
She ignored his query and instead reached down and picked up the silver dagger, peering at his dried blood staining its edge.
“You have taken life.” She stated, looking into his eyes. This was a fact already deduced moments before during his climax. “The blade does not harm innocents; otherwise it would not have cut you.”
She held it cradled in both palms and brought it up towards her own throat. The air shimmered, the shape of the blade losing definition and suddenly she was fastening the silver neck scarf about her throat once more. She shifted her weight to one knee and swung the other leg over to dismount from him and stand, turning to leave the room.
He admired her naked and unblemished back and his eyes followed the roll of her hips, the silver chain draped about her hips accentuated the wiggle of her buttocks as she departed, and the odd birthmarks, which seemed more erotic than unsightly. He heard her bare feet pad away down the hallway, pause, and then return.

The hat was now gone, but so was his unobstructed view of that perfect, pale and lovely body.
A man’s dress shirt covered her, albeit one that was only held closed by just the lowermost button. She held his clothes, all clean and neatly folded.
“Oh my God!” he gasped and looked at his right wrist, frowning because his wristwatch was missing and because there was something amiss here, something he could not quite put his finger on.
“Is something wrong?” she asked and he looked into blue eyes flecked with amber.
“Erm…how long have I been here, how long was I out?”
She held out his clothes for him to take.
“You were asleep for almost two hours.”

He stood and began to dress, his eyes flitting from her to the bathtub and he frowned as if some memory eluded him.
“You are welcome to stay longer if you wish?’’ she added, and he paused as if unsure what he was doing in a strange bathroom with a beautiful redhead wearing only a man’s shirt and a neck scarf.
He followed her to the door, intensely aware of the movement of her breasts and buttocks beneath the cotton.
“Well, goodbye then.” She said with a gentle smile, the type nurses reserve for those who are ill but do not yet know it.
‘‘Goodbye.” He said also, and stepped out of the door into the alleyway and without a backward glance retraced his steps.
She paused at the door, watching him and knowing what he would discover on arriving home earlier than normal.

Scott walked briskly through the empty market, passing the spot where he had driven a knife into a demon, without giving it a second glance as all memories of the events fled as if smoke in a breeze. On reaching the cab he slid behind the wheel and frowned at the steamed up windscreen.
He picked up the rag and wiped the glass, the back of his hand devoid of unsightly scar tissue but he seemed not to notice.
The cab started first time and he checked the mirror before pulling out.
Scott looked at the clock on the dash, noting the second hand sweep around to 4am, beating the BBC time tone by a second.

End.

Initially, all the illustrations were intended to be low file sized line art works, in order to allow the book to be published as an iBook, with their low, maximum file size ceiling. However, as Apple have no current interest in promoting any works outside of the current best selling list it was decided to find models for sketched works.

Britain's, Tracey Elvik, kindly agreed to be the face and body of Lilith, whereas Katya Clover, of Russia, permitted her image to be used to portray Fae in the scandalous dress, as the running warrior and also as the submissive Fae, enjoying the devil's passion.
Katya requested a sketch of herself riding a dragon in the nude as 'Clover' which ensures that Fae will look a little differently in future sketched illustrations, whereas Katya will remain as the model for 'Clover'.
Tracey, as Lilith, will be on the cover of the planned second book and Katya, as a cute pirate, will grace the third.
Due to the banning of the first book cover there will be back-up covers devised in case similar bans are put on the forthcoming covers, too. --Andy Farman (talk) 20:03, 16 August 2015 (PDT)--