“Devil’s Revenge”…Chapter 23….

“The art of seduction is gaining a woman’s affections, under the pretence of being deeply enamoured, when at the same time despising the woman for her vanity and weakness.”

~~~~~~Madame Gormosy

 

(Madame Gormosy, the cross dressing (cross sex, too) Devil of Lust)

In 2006, I started a novel, only my second one, from the ashes of the first.  I fell deeply in love with some of the characters, and instead of killing them off, I made them devils.  All with varying positions close to the Royal Hoof in Hell.

It was a long novel, and I loved it, but I went a little wild with the story.  Now?  I still love it, but I don’t think it would be tolerated by most of the reading public because it employs magic and after all,……those devils.   Personally I like them, or most of them, but they certainly entertained me when I wrote this book.

It’s too long by far, but I am thinking of some sharp editing, taking a meat cleaver to it, and seeing if it holds up.  It would take months to edit but it’s finished.  Actually there are two books in there.  My favorite character is Madame Gormosy (at times M. Gormosy,) and I would love to give her a public viewing.  The old gal deserves much from what I have put her through.

“““

“La! You have not remembered a thing!” Madame Gormosy passed into the room and gave a deep curtsey to Garrett, who was just leaving.

“Good Morning to you, ‘Madame’ Gormosy.”   He knew Madame by another title. His bow to her was expressively mocking.

Madame Gormosy did not take up his challenge. She was oblivious to all except what was before her. And unluckily, I was standing in her line of vision.

What is it with devils?

“Your lady, M. Garrett, dresses again dishabille. How am I to transform her if she denies my commands? She would scare away her cicisbeo with such a face!”

She tilted her head, looking at me like a disappointed owl.

“Surely some powder and a bit of rouge before breakfast! Quel dommage!”

I caught Garrett staring at me over Madame’s head. His face is unreadable, but there was a bit of warning in his eyes. Ah! This Demon was feeling his own bit of challenge! And from what appeared to be a woman in petticoats! What a delicious bit of play!

He left, a grimace on his face, and I gave Madame my prettiest curtsey.

“Well, at least you do that well enough. Now, back into that corset, ma chérie. Hold on to the bedpost.”

Madame grabbed up the corset I begged the Demon to loosen last night. I could not breathe! After relaxing the laces, it was easy to slip down over my hips.   The Chinese bound foot has nothing over a full corset of the 18^th century. Madame this time did not use her magic to undress me, but undressed me in the usual way. That is to say, she pulled the sash of my gown, and without ceremony, dropped it to the floor. Again, I stood naked before her. (I must remember the gender of ‘Madame’ here.) If I forgot, a glance into her eyes reminded me that Madame took pleasure in my situation. And since she was such an obliging tutor, I could not deny her. Frankly, I was afraid to deny her.

Her eyes took in the fullness of my bosom and without any shame on her part, lingered upon my body. It was like being caressed with the eyes of a lover. She glanced up into mine, and for one short second, I knew: I was opposite a man. No woman could ever look at a woman’s body in such a way.

She whirled me around, and with surprising strength, pulled the lacing tight. I was more prepared this time, and remembered to fill my lungs with air. She saw me do this and pushed a knee in my back, making me exhale sharply. My horse used to do this when I pulled the cinch on the saddle, and it seemed to me a well-placed trick. Once again the petticoats and stockings. This time she procured a dress from the wardrobe. It was a heavy blue brocade, plain of decoration, fitting tightly across the bodice. The skirt was full from the hips to floor. Surely Madame clothed me in the fashion of her times.

She looked me over and decided a lace cap would do well. My hair disappeared under the ruffle, and at least she didn’t spend her time pulling it out of my head. Madame may look like a woman, but had the strength of a man.

“Let’s work on your ornamental talents today. Ah! A woman should grace the arm of her husband in public, and her lovers in private. Let us walk through the house and see what we can find to entertain ourselves.”

Madame and I walked through the downstairs hall, each fluttering a fan. She used hers as punctuation to her charming voice and very prettily she was able to use it. A flutter here, a graceful extension of the fan sideways, a coy smile hidden by the uplifting to her face, all these motions were a language. A fascinating and intriguing language foreign to me. I was reminded of the usage of zils, the small finger cymbals of Turkish and Egyptian dancers used in such expressive, emphatic ways. This, the language of the fan, was as seductive and intriguing.

Madame decided to walk into the front sitting room, a room I avoided since Obadiah’s rape. There must have been some sort of energy still present for I saw Madame’s dress rise at her groin. I would guess this was some sort of spirit challenge. Perhaps the sexual energy of what happened in that room had not completely dissipated. Though the room only gave me uneasiness, for Madame the invisible sensation was much stronger. ‘She’ looked at me sharply, as if to assess its effect, and I saw her eyes turn cruel. She was, after all, a devil. What right did I have to expect compassion from her?

“La! There is a harpsichord in the corner. Let’s see what accomplishments you have musically.”

Madame moved gracefully to the instrument and opened the keyboard. She motioned me to sit, and I did, as gracefully as I could manage in my skirts. I had played, badly, on a piano at home, but a harpsichord! My fingers were stiff and I could only think of one piece to play, and haltingly I did so. It was “The Prince of Denmark’s March.”

Madame had little patience with my playing. “Enough. Let us see if you have anything of a voice.”

Ah! Here perhaps I would not disappoint her. I could sing, and in fact, had years of vocal training. I could sing German lieder and some 18^th century Italian art songs. The art songs perhaps she would tolerate. The German she would not. Of course, I was singing from memory, and Madame did not have the music in front of her. It was a bit of a challenge for both of us.

“Well, that went badly, n’est ce pas? Let us see how you do with the dance. M. Garrett informs me that you do dance?”

Madame moved to the little settee and plied her fan.

Ah! Madame, you will be disappointed, I fear. The dancing she had in mind and the dancing I did, were divided by cultures. 

“I do dance, Madame, but it is something that is not familiar to your elegant French culture. Are you acquainted with ‘harem’ dancing?” Madame’s face fell in shock.

“Mon Dieu!” she said with a gasp. “Mahomet’s harem” Her eyes stared a hole into my face.

“Wherever did M. Garrett find you?” She looked as if I had crawled out of a hole in the ground.

“Well, actually, I found him. I..I was writing a book. He was just a character in it.”   I grinned. “He is a product of a fertile imagination.”

Madame Gormosy looked at me curiously, her head tilted. Again, she looked like an inquisitive owl.   “How well do you know M. Garrett?”

How I should answer this question?   “Not very well, but in some parts, intimately.” I smiled coyly.

Madame Gormosy reached out and rapped my hand sharply with her fan.

“Stupid girl! I am not asking what he does under your petticoats, I am asking if you have any idea who diddles you?”

I sucked on my fingers as I looked at her in surprise.

“Do I know he is a Devil?” I said around my fingers in my mouth. “Well, I would suppose so.”

“Ah, my poor, stupid girl. He is hardly a Devil. His status is much more exalted.” She appeared agitated and fanned herself with vigor.

“M. Abigor would not notice if he was just a common devil. No, not at all.” Madame sat back on the sofa and continued to fan herself.

“M. Garrett descends from a royal bloodline. A very royal bloodline.

“You are talking about the Nephilim, no?”

Madame Gormosy looked surprised. “And how would you know about that?”

“Ah Madame!” I threw back a sting of my own. “Women of my generation research and know languages. We read about science and some of us actually read more languages than a smattering of Latin and French.” There.

I continued, though I saw the gathering thunder in Madame’s face. “And some of us have far more extensive skills than dancing or embroidery. Or pouring tea.”

“And some of us do not write ourselves into such a fine mess.”

She had me there. I nodded my head in acquiescence. She had won this round.

Lowering her voice, she stared straight into my eyes.

“I would be cautious, my dear lady, what interests and education you parade before demons. You might find yourself obligated to one or the other.”

I sat down beside her, thinking of Abigor and my upcoming meeting. I would try to appease her.

“Madame. Please guide me in the proper decorum with M. Abigor. I have never had tea with an Arch Duke of Hell. I do not want to aggravate M. Garrett’s condition by blunders of my own.”

Madame Gormosy sat back and sighed.

“Sensible woman. You appeal to what I can do for you. Bien. You should know M. Abigor is of the old school of Hell. He has been around since the earliest of days and is a bit jaded. That is why, I believe, his current interest in you.”

“I would think that M. Abigor has had his interests filled again and again. Nothing new under the sun?”

“Hah! Everything is new, in the eyes of someone you have not met before. M. Abigor is known for his gallant behavior, especially to mortal women. You know he has had many mortal wives?”

And just how did that work? Were they revived bits of charcoal in Hell?

“Don’t let your wit run away with you, ma chérie.”

(Sigh. Again with the mind-reading.)

“M. Abigor is able to visit his women as easily as the fog in the morning, and with more lasting results. M. Abigor has had his own harem on earth.”

Anticipating my thoughts, Madame continued. “And yes, my girl. If he took it into his head, he would put horns on M. Garrett’s head. You must proceed very cautiously with M. Abigor. I have known him to do much worse to a marriage.”

That was reassuring! “So, Madame, what do you suggest I do with M. Abigor? I certainly do not want to bring the wrath of M. Garrett down on my head. Nor do I want to stumble with M. Abigor. Any suggestions?”

“Ah! Try to divine his mood that day, and humor him. All men, or Devils, will respond to the flattering attentions of an attractive woman. I would talk philosophy, but do not try to top his knowledge here. Be ornamental to the tea table. Be submissive, and play the great art of seduction.”

I was getting confused. “Tell me, Madame. What is your definition of this word ‘seduction’?

“Ah! The art of seduction is gaining a woman’s affections, under the pretence of being deeply enamoured, when at the same time despising the woman for her vanity and weakness.” That was it in a nutshell.

Quel cynique! Of course, what else could I expect out of devils!

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2016

“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 22

 

“Letter From Madame Gormosy” makes an appearance, as does Madame….on Morgan’s blog: http://booknvolume.com

Chapter 22, where Demon Garrett seeks the advice of an Arch Duke of Hell, Lord Abigor, and where it is suggested that Mme. Gormosy is hired to be a tutor.

 

“Abigor? Are you there? I can’t see for the fog.”

“Walk to the north, Garrett. It is heavy today.”

Abigor’s voice floated on the thickened air like molasses.

Garrett walked to what he hoped was the north, the fog disorienting him. It finally cleared. Abigor was perched on a stump, smoking a long, white clay pipe in a clearing of the woods. He seemed to be alone, but one can never tell with Devils.

Garrett bowed to him, and sat upon another stump. He took his own pipe out from his coat and started to smoke.

The two devils smoked on in silence. Abigor stretched his legs out before him.   All around, except in this small clearing, the trees were dappled with a combination of fog and sunlight dancing among the limbs. It was like an “aurora borealis” flitting along the ground and trees. There were no bird calls, or rustlings of small animals on the forest floor. This place was betwixt heaven and hell, a place of neutrality among spirits. The lights sparking between trees were alien energies, for this was a magical place, inhabited by many dimensions.

“How do you fare in your present work, son?” Abigor blew a long stream of smoke in Garrett’s direction.

“It goes, father. In fits and starts.” Garrett answered him honestly, a sentiment not known among devils but appropriate in this quiet place.

“Have you procured Andras’ support to your claim?”

“Ah! That is one issue I seek your wisdom. But of the Others, I have the support of Forcas and Leraie. Forcas’ brawn and Leraie’ strength in archery.”

“A good start, but only a start.”

Abigor puffed on his pipe in contemplation of the issue.

“I would suggest Aamon.”

Aamon was the demon who reconciled problems between foes and friends. Garrett grimaced and spat on the ground.

“You could at least seek his council.”

“Father,” said Garrett slowly, “what stands between Obadiah and me has a sharp and annoying history. I would as settle it now instead of having to endure his pinpricks for eternity.”

Abigor laughed heartily. “What stands between you and Obadiah is that be-witching mortal woman.”

He chuckled, in a good mood this morning for a demon. “Get rid of her, and you and Obadiah will settle.   ‘Sharp and annoying’, indeed.”

“Ah! That is a problem. What to do with her.”

“And what do you intend?”

“Oh, to breed her, eventually.”

Garrett’s voice sounded casual to Abigor’s ears, but Abigor knew the devil opposite him a bit better than the other supposed.

“There’s much pleasure in the breeding part. It’s what comes after that is annoying.”

“Yes, but the bitter must be taken with the good.”

“Ah! You have actually learned something from my teachings! Or better, you have remembered!”

Abigor was a dispenser of herbal lore and teachings. He was powerful in the usage of medicinal magic.

Abigor smoked his pipe with a scowl on his face. “You know, even that sentiment expressed before the wrong devil could make you…ah…”

“Toast?”

“I was thinking more charcoal.”

He spat on the ground.

“You must cover your heart better, my son. Betwixt thee and me, I can well understand. I have had mortal women before, even your mother. I can remember my youth.”

“You knew my father, Abigor, what would he have done with her?” Garrett spat on the ground. It seemed to be a ritual among devils.

“Who? Your mother or your….ah…consort?”

“Bess.” Garrett blurted her name before thinking. He looked up at Abigor in surprise.

Abigor laughed  quietly.

“I forget you are half mortal. The weaker half. So, you have named her. Surely once you name a pet, you know you keep it.”

Abigor continued to chuckle to himself.   “Or, at least you don’t eat it.”

“Well, I couldn’t keep fetching her with ‘woman’.”

“Yes, well woman will have a name. Eve, Lilith, Mary, Gormory…they get stubborn and surly if you don’t name them.”

“And…they don’t put out.”

“Hah! That should be no problem for you! Just charm them still. No nonsense then.”

Garrett smiled. The sweetness in her manner made the act more wholesome. Something Abigor would not know.

“I have been thinking of a familiar to train her. She is headstrong for a mortal woman, so the spirit will have to be strong.” Garrett knew Abigor would have a suggestion for him.

“Well, there are a number of spirits that come to mind. What is it you want her to learn? To obey? Better that come from you. These mortal women, they follow so easily. You want her to follow you. I wouldn’t introduce Leraie to a woman to learn archery. He is too winsome. Woman are easily impressed with a broad chest and handsome face.”

Abigor thought for a moment.

“Ah! I have the very devil! Gormosy would do well here. A respected Duchess of Hell.”

Abigor puffed on his pipe, his face wreathed with smoke which looked curiously like little snakes.

Abigor continued. “What else does a mortal woman need to be bound for? Procure this and the other issues follow.”

Abigor’s suggestion was good. Garrett thought Gormory could teach her things of importance. At least to him. What she was famous for in Hell would work nicely on earth.

“Thank you, Father. That is one thing resolved.” Garrett placed his hand over his heart, and bowed from his stump.

“But I have another request to tax you.” Abigor nodded. Garrett was to proceed.

“Andras. I fear to expose her to him. It is not that I can’t control her in the presence of Andras, I can put all sorts of spells upon her for that.”     (Abigor thought this hardly a show of confidence in her obedience to him.) “I know how ‘touchy’ Andras is. The woman would drive any devil to violence.”

“Perhaps the solution here, my son, is to keep them apart.”

“Knowing that Andras is brother to Bucon, Obadiah’s father, can I do that without disrespect to him?” It was a question of protocol, with deadly results if he guessed wrong.

“Andras will be looking for a fight. He is, after all, Demon of Quarrels. He doesn’t have a ‘good’ side to him at all. I would not provoke him further with a moral woman. Especially if you can’t control her.”

Those last words were meant to slash at Demon Garrett. They were, after all, devils.

“I would dangle something else in front of Obadiah than my consort. Like my sword.”

“Ah! Flesh or steel. Either the same to you young bucks.” Abigor chuckled heartily.

“So, you have given her a title? A name and then, shortly, a title? My, you stick your head in the trap fast. I would have thought, as the son of your father, you would have some of his..ah… ‘polish.’”

“About my father, Abigor. How would he approach Andras? I can make the woman disappear, or not appear, as is called for, but what right do I have to ask Obadiah’s uncle for a boon?”

“About a snowball’s life in hell.”

Abigor looked at the younger demon through a haze of smoke. As they talked, it seemed they recreated the fires of hell with their pipes.

This Young Turk, thought Abigor, part god though he be, had no standing in Hell. He was unaware of the name of his father, but he had most of his traits. And he couldn’t, as powerful as Abigor was, he couldn’t reveal the name of Garrett’s father. It was something this Young Turk would have to find out for himself.

 Abigor pulled deeply on his pipe and thought: He was tolerated by the Others because he came by his powers through royal blood. The demons had reason enough to fear him, though Devil Garrett was unaware of his breeding.

 “You answer me in riddles, Lord Abigor. If I am to be my father’s son, I need know what he would do.”

Garrett took liberty with this Arch Duke of Hell, but threw caution to the wind. It was good Abigor was feeling tender towards the young devil this day.

“Your father would do as you do. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Abigor puffed languidly at his pipe. He was enjoying his morning. Riddles were a pleasant part of eternity.

“Is your consort too fearful to have me to tea?” Abigor smiled around the stem of his pipe. He looked…well, rather devilish.

“Not fearful enough.” Garrett smiled, thinking of what her reaction would be.

“Ah! I remember the brio of some mortal women. The Latins were good for it, though they were always calling the name of Christ and their infernal Pope down upon heads. I would advise you to rip out her tongue early.”

Garrett smiled at Abigor. “I would rather work a charm on her. She can use that tongue for better things.”

Ah. These half mortal devils have such patience with their women, thought Abigor. They don’t know a minute of peace because of it, either.

“I would approach Andras with courage. And caution. It will not be easy to gauge his moods. Dangle a gift before him. A pillow of lavender for sweet dreams, an axe to chop his foot off, you figure it out. But know that Bucon will have already approached him for support. The only angle I can see is that Obadiah has been a pain in the butt before to Andras. Bucon’s son comes by his hatred through blood. Quarrels are fueled either by love or hate, and Andras has had his docket filled with Obadiah’s sins. Other than that, you could be toast with him.”

“Thank you, Father. I will remember your wise words.”

Garrett appeared and been answered. He knew not to take up Abigor’s valuable time. This Arch Duke had many activities and the docket of Hell was just one of them all.

He had secured Abigor to his side, and was glad of this. Obadiah, backed by his father Bucon, was no easy fight. There would be battles aplenty before the dust settled. He just hoped he could keep all his demons in a row here. He knew he was playing with Hell’s hottest fires.

–

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2007-2016