“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 2

It’s summer, it’s hot and I am looking for something easier to post. Seven years ago I started writing this novel. It was my second one and grew out of the characters of the first. The first one was ‘normal’ Dutch folk, set in the 1820
‘s in the rural landscape of New Jersey where I grew up. This first novel, called “Heart of the Maze” was too long and I dropped it. That it wasn’t on computer but typed out and put in a binder didn’t help in the rewrite. But I had fallen in love with some of the characters and didn’t want to leave them behind. So “Devil’s Revenge” came about, but the characters (most of them) were now devils, or ghosts, and the author, Bess, had tired of the original book and had closed it for 16 years. The main male character, Garrett Cortelyou, stepped out of the book and lay in wait, full of rage. He was now a Demon or devil, and full of mischief. He was gunning for another character in the original book, Obadiah Voorhees, now also a powerful devil, and Bess is caught up in the fight between the two of them. I am not posting the first chapter because it has a rape scene, or something that comes pretty close to it. And, I have work to do on it. So, for a while, until readers get tired of this, I am going to post chapters of “Devil’s Revenge”. Hope it fits the bill for summer reading and entertains.

Lady Nyo

Devil’s Revenge
Chapter 2

“What the hell?”

Opening my eyes, I struggled to focus. Embers had popped from the fireplace
and it sounded like the Fourth of July! One rolled to where I was sitting and stopped at my bare foot. Blinking, I snatched my foot back and took a deep breath. If materializing this way was supposed to unsettle me, it was working. My hands shook, my heart raced; I felt nauseous. A few minutes before I had control of myself. At a man’s command I appeared in this room. I shivered, a combination of fear and wonder.

The wind raced around the corners of the house, and sleet scratched at the window panes. I was glad for the good fire before me. I was chilly dressed in a linen morning gown, nothing more than a wrapper over a chemise. I had that mob cap on my head, falling over my eyes, but at least I was without stays. I could breathe again.

Placed on the tea table were two sheets of stiff paper and a lead pencil. I stared into the flames leaping about the logs, lost in thought, the sway of the fire hypnotic, the sound of the sleet beat a steady tattoo on the windows.

Was he a demon? Well, he wasn’t the Devil, or at least he didn’t seem to be. I had no idea what he was, and my knowledge of anything supernatural was poor to non-existent. But he shouldn’t exist, not if I was sane and the universe too, but here he was. What was he? My imagination couldn’t stretch that far to account for all these magical things, like the tankards of ale appearing with a snap of his fingers, or that he had materialized out of the pages of an unfinished book. But perhaps these things were small beer compared to what was possible? In any case, I was caught between two worlds, my comfortable if mundane life with a husband and this apparent ‘rip in the fabric of the universe.’

Since I had been thrown back into this book, perhaps I could write a couple of lines. I might as well use the time I given, and writing would calm my nerves. The chapter’s weather on my page imitated the weather outside my window, both gray and threatening days. I would write in a snowstorm, the two characters not able to travel, stuck in the countryside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small movement and glancing up, there sat the demon, Garrett Cortelyou. I jumped and squeaked out a scream, covering my mouth with my hands.

“Goedemorgen to you, and I am still the Devil, I see.” He sat across the table, unshaven this morning. His appearing like that and his confounded ability to read thoughts still rattled me.

“I am thinking of growing a beard, just to bedevil you.” He grinned, sitting back in his seat, stretching his legs and propping one boot upon the other.

“Why would I care if you had a beard?” I tried to sound snarky.

“It would give a turn to seducing you, something new and untried.” He grinned even broader and winked at me. “Ah, think how good it will feel with my beard brushing the soft skin in the middle of your back. I can think of other places to bury it just as fine.”

“Ah, stop it, Demon child. What business brings you here this morning except to taunt me.”

“You should form that as a question, not a statement. Again, with the bad English.”

“It is not a question of whether you will taunt me, but a fact. I already felt your sting.”

Stretching his arm out, he lay it palm up on the table, his hand out for mine. A gentle gesture. I had no reason to trust him.

“Yes, a gentle gesture, and one that I would like to follow up with more ‘stinging’ of your nether parts, my sweeting.” His eyes were languid and narrowed, and left no question his thoughts were mostly about lust this morning.

I reddened at his silly words, in spite of my determination not to.

“Oh, I don’t think that you are at all displeased, sweetheart. I think you are attempting to play a game where your feet do not touch bottom.”

I listened and thought a moment. “Tell me, then, how does this work? Does anybody in my life notice I’m gone? I don’t remember much when I’m home, and it seems the time with you is all a dream. What happens here? How do you do these things?” I looked around the room, wondering if I came down the chimney.

Garrett smiled. “Time is different in each dimension. A month here is an hour there.”

“Then my husband doesn’t know I’m gone?”

He snorted, a strange sort of laugh. “I think you could be gone a week in your time, darling, and that husband of yours wouldn’t notice.”

I didn’t want to humor him, and suppressed my own laughter. He was probably right. My husband was addicted to television and we led almost separate lives in our marriage. Little held us together, except our dogs and cats, and a comfortable routine.

“How do you bring me here?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“For Christ’s sake! You kidnap me from my bed and bring me to yours. There are laws against such behavior.”

He started to laugh. “If I told you, it would ruin all the fun.”

“For you? I have a marriage to hold together and you are interfering in my life.”

His smile disappeared. “You are quite the little hypocrite. You put a set of horns on your husband’s head fast enough and now you complain? I seem to remember you enjoying the fucking you got. Perhaps I should give some lessons to your husband.”

“You are a bastard! He’s a fine and sweet man!” I rose from my seat in my anger.
He did not seem impressed. He barely changed his posture, only crossed his arms over his chest. If he thought I would hit him, he didn’t care.

“Yet here you are with me. And curious as to what comes next. That depends on controlling your temper. You act like a spoilt child.”

Suddenly I felt drained. This show of anger was not getting me far. He was stubborn, with his own set of rules. He was right, I had set the horns upon my own husband’s head and enjoyed the fucking that set them there. Slowly I sat down in my chair, my energy gone. I didn’t have a moral leg to stand on.

“Woman.” I heard his voice through my tears. “I promise you your dear husband will not notice you gone. He will think you outside feeding your chickens or getting his ale from that cold cabinet.”

I started to laugh through my tears. He could be a fly on the wall or a ghost haunting my house!

“Sixteen years gives me the authority to do so,” he said, reading my thoughts.

Again he stretched out his hand to me across the table. It was a tender gesture, but I was having none of it. He sat back and looked at me solemnly.

“Take the mobcap off, please. It reminds me of Aunt Catherine in bed, and that’s a cock- crushing sight in the morning.”

I took the cap off. It was slipping over my eyes. Aunt Catherine was a character in the book in her eighties, almost bald and toothless.

“What have you done to your hair?” He looked intently at my now caramel streaked locks.

“Oh, summer is rough, being out in the garden, and the southern sun, you know….” My words trailed off. What in hell was I doing here? Talking to a doppelganger like he was a friend. “I put in caramel streaks.”

“Why would you put candy in your hair?” Garrett’s eyes narrowed in puzzlement.

“Does it taste sweet?”

“Oh Lord, deliver me from such fools! No, Garrett, it is just a color that women put– Oh, never mind.”

“Hey day! What’s this?” He spied my foot with the cherry red nail polish peeking from my under my gown. He reached down and grabbed my foot, almost yanking me off my seat.

“Garrett! Remember I’m attached to that foot!” He had it in his lap, where he stared at my toes.

“It’s like cherries in milk, your foot!” Looking up at me, he laughed. “From your hair to your feet, I could eat you this morning.” He looked like he was just capable of doing so. I snatched my foot back from his lap.

“You are here for a reason, now state it and leave.” I felt foolish sitting in my bathrobe talking to something not real.

“Ah, my pretty author, do I need a reason to visit you in my house? Remember that you are here at my calling. Let’s start with a name. What am I to call you?”

Oh God…I had not thought of this! After all these years, one would think he would know by now. I had three Christian names and tried not to think of them. I couldn’t fool the damn devil.

“Well, Sarah is taken now. And a bit morbid for me to call you that. Remember? Sarah is killed by your friend Obadiah. I’ll call you Bess from your middle name. I like the sound of that. Nice and docile.” He threw back his head and laughed.

I well remember what I write, you stupid devil. Why was he here this morning? Or more to the point, what in hell was I doing here in this bedroom?

“I came to apologize,” he said, offhandedly. “ I was a bit rough, not that you didn’t deserve it. I could have been a lot rougher, but then, you wouldn’t have been so nice to me.” The loathsome devil grinned.

“Ah, still with the names….and you were nice to me. Even if you resisted at first.”

“Garrett, that was almost a rape. You know that.” I wondered if he could feel remorse. I didn’t know how much was human, how much devil.

“Your own fault, Bess. You refused to kiss me. Had you been sweeter to me you’d have no problem at all. Next time allow me your mouth, it will go better for you.” He paused. “I don’t know how you could call that a rape, sweetheart. You fell in my arms fast enough.”

My mouth was open with shock. What an arrogant man…demon! But he was right. I had tried hard not to respond to his ardor, but my body was not of the same resolve. Blushing, I tried not to remember his lovemaking.

My stomach was rumbling, and snapping his fingers, a tray of tea appeared on the table between us.

“Would you like a cup?” I was trying to focus on something else, yet my hands shook.
.
“Yes, make it sweet, my love.” He turned his chair to face me. Looking over his cup, he caught my eyes. He was such a silly demon and appeared right at home in this bedroom.

“Before, it was ‘demon lover’. I liked that best. Could you please say it again?”

I smiled, touched at his vanity. ‘Yes, demon lover, and all attendant titles that go with it.” Oh God! What am I saying? Where is my sense? Where is my sanity?

“Ah, that’s better. Tell me, my Bess, what happens at the end of the book?”

“You mean you don’t know?” I was surprised, I thought he would. I hadn’t written it down, but knew the outcome for a number of years. I thought he was a mind reader.

“No, I don’t know. I have tried to read your confounded writing, but until you typeset it up into a book, I can’t. Tell me- do I survive Obadiah? Do I get the girl? What is my fate?”

“Do I look like a gypsy woman? Why should I tell you anything? I think that is the only power I have.” I sat back and looked at him smugly. Two could play at his nasty game.

“Oh, my darling woman, you have more power over me and John Thomas down here than you know. And speaking of cocks, who are these other men in your life? Does your husband know of the horns you are planning to put on his head?” He looked at me, his dark eyes flashing. I wondered suddenly if he ever had a soul.

“How would you know anything like that?” I rose from my seat, again, angry and stupid. Before I could formulate an answer, he rose from his chair and yanked me to him, hurting my wrist.

“You are full of fun, with no idea of consequences,” he said almost hissing with anger, pulling me close to him. “I would call you a cocktease, but you know what you are. You think your glib tongue will hold you from harm? It will lay you down for it. You are such a little fool.”

“You are hurting my wrist. Stop it!” My words were sharp and he dropped my arm. I stood there rubbing where his fingers now marked my skin.

He was angry about something. I could see that. Shocked by the violence of his words and hurting my wrist, I was growing afraid and tried to placate him with sweet words.

“Garrett….I created you from the desire of my loins. No mortal can compete with you. You are a subject of jealously among men, my demon friend”.

“Ah, not demon lover?” He was not so easily put off. He had a fine temper.

“Garrett, as a character, created by me, you are perfection. There is nothing lacking in you. I have seen to that. No human can hold a candle to you.” I wondered why I would say such a thing! Fear had to be the larger part of my thinking. He had the strength and violence of manhood, compounded by magic. I needed to be more cautious. He had the power of a demon, after all.

“Your words are not so original, but will do for now.”

He made a mocking bow, ending the argument. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked at me with a bemused expression on his face.

“I want some changes here. I am being starved by you, and your thoughtless writing.”

“What do you mean, sweet Demon?” I hoped my voice dripped with acid.

“Ah, nice and docile, Bess! I like that. Do it more.” He laughed but it wasn’t a cheerful sound.

“For a week I have fed on bread, cheese, and ale. Jennie doesn’t cook for me, nor does Daniel. I am hungry and that doesn’t make my temper better. I want some real food written into this damn novel. I want some Zuur Tong, Head Cheese, some Gehakt, a nice Hutspot a couple of times a week. I want you to bake me some kretenbroad.”

“All right, Garrett…translate those words.” Zuur Tong turned out to be Spiced Tongue, Gehakt was sausage, Hutspot was a one-dish meal of beef, mashed potatoes, onions and carrots and Kretenbroad was currant bread.

I couldn’t resist. “Why don’t you snap your fingers for the food to appear?” I smiled sourly.

He grimaced and scowled at me. “I can’t seem to manage more than a tankard of ale, some spirits and a tray of tea. I can levitate a chamber pot, but you don’t want to see that trick.”

I laughed and told him that I would make Daniel, the caretaker, bring in his niece, Anna, to cook. These were characters from the original book I had put aside for some other life.

“Good. Settled. Now come here, lambkin. He led me to the window that looked down to the river. Placing me in front of him, he put his arm around my shoulder, holding me.

“I don’t like sitting in that library all day, I want you to write me out there hunting. I want to bag more ducks. There are geese on the river bank for the taking, can you see them from here?” He stretched a long arm towards the general direction of the river, but I saw nothing in the gray, morning light
.
“Maybe a deer or two. I need some time with my guns, and I want to get a pack of dogs. Agreed? And about your Dutch.”

He was full of demands today. I had to smile. “What about my Dutch?”

“It is rotten. You write what you don’t know. Again. You should ask me. Like the word ‘fokken’….It doesn’t mean to ‘plow’…it means to copulate. Simple, isn’t it? Now, let us get fokken.” He tried to steer me towards the bed, but I twisted out of his reach.

“Stop, Garrett. You have the seduction manners of a goat.” He stopped in surprise in the middle of the room.

“I am unworthy of your cherry, plucked though it’s been. Forgive my manners, my lady.” He gave a low and elegant bow, and coming up, picked me up over his shoulder. He threw me hard on the bed and jumped on top of me.

“I can’t breathe, you monster! Get off me, give me some air!”

“I might, if you willingly give me your mouth this time.”

“And what do you intend to stuff in it? I know you, Garrett. I may have been oblique about your ‘lesson plan’ in the novel, but I think I know something of your appetites.”

He rolled off of me, laughing. Turning back, he propped himself on an elbow, stroking the hair from my face.

“You and I, we understand each other, no? Perhaps I don’t have to read every thought of yours. But it is fun, and it gives me an advantage.”

“It’s an unfair advantage, Garrett–and you know it. I have little independence when you do so.”

“Ah, but that is some of the delights of being a woman. You submit to me, in all things, and I will fill your–mouth with sweet things. I will stroke your limbs and warm your belly, and you will grow to open to me with pleasure.”

“Now who sounds like a second-rate novel?”, I said sarcastically.

“And what kind of novel are you writing? Do you even know?”

“I don’t, just something decent. Men are critical- and my girlfriends are even more so.”

“What do the men think?” He asked, distracting himself with his hands on my breasts.

“I thought that you would know this? Don’t you read my emails?”

“No, I don’t. Not yet. Isn’t there a password involved?”

“Why would a demon need a password? Aren’t you all seeing?”

“I’m trying, my sweet woman, to seduce you. I don’t give a damn about your letters. I want to know the competition. I want to know about these men who want to stick their tongues down your throat and part your pretty thighs. Why are you talking to them about the novel? Why mention us?

“I didn’t know that there was ‘an us,’ Garrett. You forget you are all fantasy. All in my mind, and all in my book.” I snapped my fingers; he was still there.

“I think that I am all between your legs right now.” He put his hand over my crotch, and stroked me through my gown.

“You want to kiss me, why don’t you start with my mouth?”

“You can delay all you want, you sweet witch. I have eternity here.”

“Then this is Hell? Purgatory? Something like Dante’s Inferno?

Putting his head next to my neck, he breathed gently on my skin. The warmth of his breath was arousing.

“Would you stop trying to figure it out and just let it be? Look, I will lie quietly with you, and we can coo together. I promise you will rise as virginal as you are now. Just go cook me something in the kitchen. I am fading fast.”

I promised to feed him but he didn’t keep his. The afternoon was a quiet one, as he slept on my breast. I had a chance to observe my demon lover closely, and he was as beautiful in life as anything I could put on the page. He would be happy with that, but of course, he already knows what I think.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2007-2014

“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 13

I’m having a lot of fun with this book. Rewriting isn’t my favorite thing to do but it is necessary. There were 43 chapters so far, when I left off writing this book, and I would imagine there will be at least 50 by the time it is finished.

For those who are just beginning to read this story, “Devil’s Revenge” is a a bit confusing. Bess, a 21st century writer, who had closed a book she was writing 16 years ago, has been zapped into the early 19th century by a character, Garrett Cortelyou from the previous book. He is now a cranky demon, half devil and half mortal, and full of magic. Sometimes it doesn’t work, and he seems to be only able to do minor magic: he can make ale and tea appear, but he has problems levitating chamberpots when he is showing off. He’s been pursued by another Devil, Obadiah, who also came through the ley lines of the previous novel to do battle with him. This has been going on since prehistory and Bess is now in the middle of this blood feud between the characters of Hell and other places in the cosmos. The Demon needs her for a particular reason, but sex really is just one of the benefits: he needs a bard, and as she is a writer, he thinks she will do fine in this position. Bess has her own ideas about all of this. They constantly clash on just about everything. The Demon thinks by Bess finishing the original novel and killing off Obadiah, his arch rival, he can manipulate his fate. Not so easily, as he is also petarding her finishing anything with his antics. He has the annoying habit of being able to read her thoughts. She tries to insult him with her own since he is reading at will.

Lady Nyo

DEVIL’S REVENGE, CHAPTER 13

I am now restless. I believe it is born of my fear. So much has spiraled out of my control, and I am not used to this state of affairs. What started out as a lark, has now become a partial existence full of trepidation. I have gone from a simple wordsmith, cobbling words and phrases together in pleasing forms to living, at least part time, in an environment where things happen that frighten me. . At times, I have faced and felt violence where I would not suspect it to exist. What was once a paper character has now become my nemesis. He stalks, and plans more violence upon me. I have no defenses against him, but to ‘kill him off’ in my book, which I have been told, is a partial resolve. The being who tells me this, is another from the same book, my Demon Lover. I have not called him that lately, for he has taken much more control of my existence than I would sanely give over to another. But he appears the only barrier between a force that is so violent and malicious, that I am grateful for what defenses he constructs. I have become fully dependent upon his good graces, if a demon can be said to have such. I have given myself over to him for protection. The price of this will be a high one, I fear.

What seemed to be a game, one that he proposed, and I laughingly rejected, is now, I have come to understand, the only defense I have here. I was the creator of these characters. I am now subservient to their powers. I am a pawn in the middle of a game that I don’t understand. It is something a little like the book I was writing, but with supernatural characters abounding. I am only a mortal woman, and I am thrown into this cauldron of spirits, demons and war that has existed between characters since the beginning of time. My Demon Protector has tried to explain to me the pantheon of creatures that occupy his world…or worlds. He has the ability to travel between many of them, and I only call him Demon to taunt him. He is that but much more. What, I still haven’t figured out. But he has become much more to me. He has supernatural abilities that he is slowly revealing, like a dance of the seven veils.

“That’s hardly a masculine description of my talents.”

Hah! He sneaks in on cat paws and tries to surprise me. I am getting used to him now.

“Then I will change my tactics. Perhaps I will scare you more. You will fly to my arms!”

“Good Morning, Demon.” I smile as he slowly materializes in his usual place. “Have you brought me a dish of tea?”

“Your wish is my command.” He snaps his fingers and a lovely dish of tea appears on the table before me.

“Have you had your breakfast?” I ask him.

“Are you proposing to cook it for me? I like that. Admirable in a woman.” He lights his eternal pipe, and puffs lazily. He is in a good mood this morning.

“About that, Garrett. What is exactly expected of me?” He has proposed this very recently, but has not gone into much detail.

“Oh, as I think of it I will tell you.” He grins at me. I guess I am to read his mind on this.

“As long as you read it correctly, darling one.”

I drink my tea and look over the rim of my dish at him. He is in a very jolly mood today.

“That’s because you were good and tender to me. I like a woman that plays so well with John Thomas down there.”

I blush at the memory of his recent highjinks. He is a very sexual demon. Whatever I resisted before, he has made me more pliable to his wooing now. As long as I don’t contradict him. He can be the very devil if he doesn’t get his way. He grins at me, reading my mind again.

“Give me your hand, Bess. You were sad when I came in.” He’s a sensitive devil.

I extend my hand to him across the table. A usual gesture between us, when we are not fighting. It expresses a certain tenderness and trust. Most times he denies that.

“I am worried, Demon. I am worried about Obadiah and what is to come next.” I look at him seriously, and he puffs his white clay pipe thoughtfully.

“If it’s reassurance you want, I can give you little. But I can give you some knowledge about how things stand.” He slouched down in his chair, and stretched out his long legs. “It’s mostly a question of forces. Obadiah’s and mine. We share some things, and he wants to share more”. He looked at me and grinned, “but I am blocking him in his desires.”

“So I am pivotal here?” I can’t believe that.

“Well, yes and no. There’s the big picture, and the small.” He had a serious expression as he tried to form an explanation I would understand.

“The big picture is a question of territory. We both want the same slice of pie. We have been fighting over this way before you ever thought of your book. Think of the drug trade in your world.”

“I’d rather not, thank you. Bunch of thugs and hoods.”

“Well, it fits. Neither Obadiah or I are of the first water where morality comes in.” He flashed his grin again. “So we gather various forces, pulled from various worlds, and we go at each other like dogs.”

I could see how that analogy fit. Both of them.

“Where do I come in here?” I was losing the smaller picture.

“In good time I will come to that.” Frankly, I thought he was avoiding the topic. Perhaps something unpleasant in store for me.

“Well, since you have guessed at some of it, I might as well tell you a bit more.” He puffed on his pipe, but it had gone out.

“Bess”, he began. “You are a mortal woman.” Ah! Tell me something I don’t know. “You have a value in our worlds for a number of reasons. One of them is the possibility of transference.”

“Meaning?”

“You can go between worlds easier than us. You have substance. Mainly flesh and blood.” (I didn’t like the sound of this.)

“And…you would be a breeder.”

“What! What in Hell are you talking about?” I really didn’t like the sound of that!

“It’s either you consort with Obadiah or you consort with me.”

“That is the choice? That is the only choice I get? I am a broodmare for either one of you? What about my age? What about my husband and my real life?” I was getting a bit hysterical here.

“Ah, that. A bit of a complication, but that is what the glamours are for. I could work around that.”

Lovely. Within a matter of minutes he has changed my destiny, my fate singlehandedly, without even a ‘by your leave.’ Or he has attempted to.

“I can already see the fire has risen in your temper, girl. Remember your promise to submit to me? It seems like only yesterday you made a pact here with me.”

“Ah, Devil! You are a daft one if you think that I will follow any of this!”

“Have it your way. I’ll throw you out a window, and before you hit the ground Obadiah and his minions will have you fast. Would you prefer that fate because that is yours outside this house.”

So those were the terms. I would play a waiting game with him and see if things changed. But he could bite my ass if he thought I would give another foot of ground to him.

He smiled at me, though he could tell that I was upset. Beyond upset.

“Come Bess, it won’t be as bad as you think. You will have some immortality of your own. If I win the battles, you will be a very powerful woman. Plus you will be mine.”

Oh! Goody! Just the fate I have always seen for me. This cocksure demon talks in riddles and fairytales and I am to suspend my sanity and go along with the game here!

“You choose to do this by writing the book. Had you not been so good, you wouldn’t have caught the attention of a number of Old Ones.”

“You mean you and Obadiah?” The arrogance of the man…ah, demon!

“No, Bess. There are Immortals far stronger than I. I do have my own to kowtow to, you know.”

I didn’t. This was news.

“So, Demon, tell me. What are these forces that you are gathering for battle? Fairies, Elves, garden gnomes, some trolls?”

He laughed at my words, but the laughter didn’t mount to his eyes.

“You better hope that I can gather the forces I need, or you might be a broodmare for Obadiah. I think you remember his wooing. But then again, he is known widely for his perversion and pain. Pain in the ass, more likely. But you remember it well.”

Oh! He was so cruel! To use what Obadiah had done to me as a joke!

“You best remember who you are now beholden to, dear lady. A slight imbalance of power will take us both down. It would behoove you well to make my days light.”

Well, he had me there. A bargain with the Devil…or a devil, was not one that was easy to go back on. I should have thought of that from the start of this story.

My voice sounded weak to my ears. “Will you be able to do this?”

“I should. I am more, ah, winsome than Obadiah. And so are you. You will have to use some of your mortal charms to bring them to our side. That is part of your role as consort. And you will have to be convincing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those that sit in judgement of Obadiah and I can ‘award’ the spoils of battle to either side. You would be one of those spoils. You will have to play a convincing role of devotion and loyalty to me not to be given to Obadiah.”

“As in, “The Gods are fickle?”

“Good girl! Now you are playing the game!”

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted 2007, 2013

“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 13

THANK YOU ALL WHO HAVE SENT COMMENTS, LIKES, STINK BOMBS, ETC…BUT NOTHING IS COMING THROUGH RIGHT NOW. BAD WORDPRESS! BUT THANK YOU. PERHAPS IT WILL BE FIXED TOMORROW.

At the end of 2006, I started another book, from a book. I had almost finished my first novel, “Heart Of The Maze”, and made a cardinal mistake: I didn’t want to kill off my favorite characters, so I continued the story but with a twist: the characters were now demons and devils. The author, Bess, (new to this book) had closed the original book for 16 years and one day she woke up in the bedroom of her story, in the 1820’s in the post Colonial North East. The main character, Garrett Cortelyou from the previous novel was back, this time half devil, half human. It was never clear what he was, or what part he would play in this story, but he was having his own fun. Bess, the author, was trying to make heads or tails of what was happening and try to keep her sanity. The Demon can read her mind and doesn’t believe in Free Will and tries to trip up Bess as much as he can. There is a sort of truce between them, as he is embroiled with other forces, mostly demonic and Bess trying her best to read the score card.

Lady Nyo

Devil’s Revenge, Chapter 13

I am now restless. I believe it is born of my fear. So much has spiraled out of my control, and I am not used to this state of affairs. What started out as a lark, has now become an existence full of trepidation. I have gone from a simple wordsmith, cobbling words and phrases together in pleasing forms to living, at least part time, in an environment where things happen that frighten me. . At times, I have faced and felt violence where I would not suspect it to exist. What was once a paper character has now become my nemesis. He stalks, and plans more violence upon me. I have no defenses against him, but to ‘kill him off’ in my book, which I have been told, is a partial resolve. The being who tells me this, is another from the same book, my Demon Lover. I have not called him that lately, for he has taken much more control of my existence than I would sanely give over to another. But he appears the only barrier between a force that is so violent and malicious, that I am grateful for what defenses he constructs. I have become fully dependent upon his good graces, if a demon can be said to have such. I have given myself over to him for protection. The price of this will be a high one, I fear.

What seemed to be a game, one that he proposed, and I laughingly rejected, is now, I have come to understand, the only defense I have here. I was the creator of these characters. I am now subservient to their powers. I am a pawn in the middle of a game that I don’t understand. It is something a little like the book I was writing, but with supernatural characters abounding. I am only a mortal woman, and I am thrown into this cauldron of spirits, demons and war that has existed between characters since the beginning of time. My Demon Protector has tried to explain to me the pantheon of creatures that occupy his world…or worlds. He has the ability to travel between many of them, and I only call him Demon to taunt him. He is that but much more. What, I still haven’t figured out. But he has become much more to me. He has supernatural abilities that he is slowly revealing, like a dance of the seven veils.

“That’s hardly a masculine description of my talents.”

Hah! He sneaks in on cat paws and tries to surprise me. I am getting used to him now.

“Then I will change my tactics. Perhaps I will scare you more. You will fly to my arms!”

“Good Morning, Demon.” I smile as he slowly materializes in his usual place. “Have you brought me a dish of tea?”

“Your wish is my command.” He snaps his fingers and a lovely dish of tea appears on the table before me.

“Have you had your breakfast?” I ask him.

“Are you proposing to cook it for me? I like that. Admirable in a woman.” He lights his eternal pipe, and puffs lazily. He is in a good mood this morning.

“About that, Garrett. What is exactly expected of me?” He has proposed this very recently, but has not gone into much detail.

“Oh, as I think of it I will tell you.” He grins at me. I guess I am to read his mind on this.

“As long as you read it correctly, darling one.”

I drink my tea and look over the rim of my dish at him. He is in a very jolly mood today.

“That’s because you were good and tender to me. I like a woman that plays so well with John Thomas down there.”

I blush at the memory of his recent highjinks. He is a very sexual demon. Whatever I resisted before, he has made me more pliable to his wooing now. As long as I don’t contradict him. He can be the very devil if he doesn’t get his way. He grins at me, reading my mind again.

“Give me your hand, Bess. You were sad when I came in.” He’s a sensitive one today.

I extend my hand to him across the table. A usual gesture between us, when we are not fighting. It expresses a certain tenderness and trust. Most times he denies that.

“I am worried, Demon. I am worried about Obadiah and what is to come next.” I look at him seriously, and he puffs his white clay pipe thoughtfully.

“If it’s reassurance you want, I can give you little. But I can give you some knowledge about how things stand.” He slouched down in his chair, and stretched out his long legs. “It’s mostly a question of forces. Obadiah’s and mine. We share some things, and he wants to share more”. He looked at me and grinned, “but I am blocking him in his desires.”

“So I am pivotal here?” I can’t believe that.

“Well, yes and no. There’s the big picture, and the small.” He had a serious expression as he tried to form an explanation I would understand.

“The big picture is a question of territory. We both want the same slice of pie. We have been fighting over this way before you ever thought of your book. Think of the drug trade in your world.”

“I’d rather not, thank you. Bunch of thugs and hoods.”

“Well, it fits. Neither Obadiah or I are of the first water where morality comes in.” He flashed his grin again. “So we gather various forces, pulled from various worlds, and we go at each other like dogs.”

I could see how that analogy fit. Both of them.

“Where do I come in here?” I was losing the smaller picture.

“In good time I will come to that.” Frankly, I thought he was avoiding the topic. Perhaps something unpleasant in store for me.

“Well, since you have guessed at some of it, I might as well tell you a bit more.” He puffed on his pipe, but it had gone out.

“Bess”, he began. “You are a mortal woman.”

Ah! Tell me something I don’t know.

“You have a value in our worlds for a number of reasons. One of them is the possibility of transference.”

“Meaning?”

“You can go between worlds easier than us. You have substance. Mainly flesh and blood.” (I didn’t like the sound of this.)

“And…you would be a breeder.”

“What! What in Hell are you talking about?” I really didn’t like the sound of that!

“It’s either you consort with Obadiah or you consort with me.”

“That is the choice? That is the only choice I get? I am a broodmare for either one of you? What about my age? What about my husband and my real life?” I was getting a bit hysterical here.

“Ah, that. A bit of a complication, but that is what the glamours are for. I could work around that.”

Lovely. Within a matter of minutes he has changed my destiny, my fate singlehandedly, without even a ‘by your leave.’ Or he has attempted to.

“I can already see the fire has risen in your temper, girl. Remember your promise to submit to me? It seems like only yesterday you made a pact here with me.”

“Ah, Devil! You are a daft one if you think that I will follow any of this!”

“Have it your way. I’ll throw you out a window, and before you hit the ground Obadiah and his minions will have you fast. Would you prefer that fate because that is yours outside this house.”

So those were the terms. I would play a waiting game with him and see if things changed. But he could bite my ass if he thought I would give another foot of ground to him.

He smiled at me, though he could tell that I was upset. Beyond upset.

“Come Bess, it won’t be as bad as you think. You will have some immortality of your own. If I win the battles, you will be a very powerful woman. Plus you will be mine.”

Oh! Goody! Just the fate I have always seen for me. This cocksure demon talks in riddles and fairytales and I am to suspend my sanity and go along with the game here!

“You choose to do this by writing the book. Had you not been so good, you wouldn’t have caught the attention of a number of Old Ones.”

“You mean you and Obadiah?” The arrogance of the man…ah, demon!

“No, Bess. There are Immortals far stronger than I. I do have my own to kowtow to, you know.”

I didn’t. This was news.

“So, Demon, tell me. What are these forces that you are gathering for battle? Fairies, Elves, garden gnomes, some trolls?”

He laughed at my words, but the laughter didn’t mount to his eyes.

“You better hope that I can gather the forces I need, or you might be a broodmare for Obadiah. I think you remember his wooing. But then again, he is known widely for his perversion and pain. Pain in the ass, more likely. But you remember it well.”

Oh! He was so cruel! To use what Obadiah had done to me as a joke!

“You best remember who you are now beholden to, dear lady. A slight imbalance of power will take us both down. It would behoove you well to make my days light.”

Well, he had me there. A bargain with the Devil…or a devil, was not one that was easy to go back on. I should have thought of that from the start of this story.

My voice sounded weak to my ears. “Will you be able to do this?”

“I should. I am more, ah, winsome than Obadiah. And so are you. You will have to use some of your mortal charms to bring them to our side. That is part of your role as consort. And you will have to be convincing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those that sit in judgement of Obadiah and I can ‘award’ the spoils of battle to either side. You would be one of those spoils. You will have to play a convincing role of devotion and loyalty to me not to be given to Obadiah.”

“As in, “The Gods are fickle?”

“Good girl! Now you are playing the game!”

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted 2007, 2009

“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 3

I had no intention of every revisiting this book but since I have, it has an energy to it that still surprises me. It was only my second novel, and it got lost in the excitement of writing other books and of course, poetry. But it has a certain charm (at least to me…) and also has some inventive characters who will make an appearance later. It’s good to reread earlier work, and to see how it stacks up with work years later.

There were three years of some pretty extensive research into Celtic mythology and of the poetry from that time. I also wrote some of my very first poetry into this novel. If I post later chapters those poems will appear. Overall, this novel, though basically a work that needs a lot of rework, was a wonderful time of investigation and forming characters. There are frogs in here too with their own particular magic.Lady Nyo

Chapter 3

Stretching like a cat, I awoke slowly. Suddenly I smelled the strong scent of wood smoke and bounced upright in bed. Looking around, I saw the fireplace and realized where I was. Damn, it was happening again! The Demon was playing fast and loose with my atoms, zapping me from my own comfortable bed and century. How in hell does he do this? Hah! Like he would tell me, but at least this time I wasn’t sick to my stomach.

The Demon had a name, Garrett Cortelyou. Cocksure of his charms, arrogance fed into his seduction and he was a danger to my decorum and decency. Compounding the situation he was devilishly attractive and exuded an unearthly charisma. He was master of a particular brand of sexual magic and his appetite knew no bounds. He delighted in corrupting me, shocking me with his…. techniques. I would call him a libertine. He had little concern I was married and I forgot I was when he was near. There was a certain charm in his humor and he was an entertaining devil. Sexual encounters with him were addictive and probably dangerous. But this could not continue – I was losing control of myself. What kind of world had he pulled me into? Why was I here? This was insanity and since it happened over and over, I knew I was not dreaming.

I also knew somehow… answers to this present situation revolved around the novel. Perhaps if I kept writing until the end it would resolve. I could return to my comfortable, boring life with my husband and my chickens and this excitement and unreality would disappear. I realized the book was a key, but which door did it open?

And then this demon? Well, I really didn’t know that he was a demon, just guessing. I didn’t have anything else to call him and ‘demon’ fit for some reason. Perhaps it was the magic and the mind reading, but I needed a name for him. What part did he really play in the scope of things? He was a sharp-eyed critic and petards my writing with his presence and demands. I knew he wasn’t ‘real’, oh real enough in some physical sense, but there were other considerations. How did he materialize and why? And why me? Of course, he used the ready excuse of the book and how I thought I had brought him ‘into life’, but the power of words, my words, couldn’t upset the universe to such a remarkable extent. No, there were other forces at work, and I would just have to discover what they were.

Here I was, early morning by the light in the room, and again, in a strange bed. I had to pee, and knew from past visits where the chamber closet was. It was cold in the room, the fire was dying down and I hurried across the floor. The sound of a pee in a china pot is quite intimate, as water with our modern toilets muffles sound. Leaving the closet, I stumbled over my feet in surprise. There, sitting in a chair, was the demon.

“I thought we agreed you would refer to me as your “Demon Lover”? Garrett was eating a large slice of currant bread, the Dutch escapes me–

“Kretenbroad”, he said, dusting the crumbs off his chest as he chewed.

“Thank you, the word eluded me.”

“Anna makes good kretenbroad.. I think I will marry her.” He grinned and snapped his fingers, making a dish of tea appear on the table.

“You could do worse.” According to the first novel, Anna was the spinster niece of Daniel Griggs, the manservant who lived in this house for thirty years.

“Much more. Get your facts straight.”

“Garrett, what gives you leave to invade my bedroom at all times of the morning?”

Still chewing his bread, he gave a devilish grin. “I like celestial music in the morning.”

“What are you talking about? What music?” He could be so silly.

“The music a woman makes when she pees in a chamber pot,” he said, still grinning.

“You are a nasty demon.” I was getting impatient with his antics. He took great liberties.

“ Come drink your tea before it cools, “ he said, dusting the crumbs to the floor.

I sat down in my nightgown, and picked up the ‘dish’ of tea. It really was a bowl with two handles, but every time he conjured up tea, it was good.

“Of course it is, I made and stirred it with my –“

“Don’t tell me, Garrett, I won’t be able to drink.” He really was vile this morning, and his visits were always backed with a purpose.

“Always backed”? That’s more garbled English. Write it in Dutch.”

“All right, Demon!” I was getting irritated. “”Why are you here?” (Better I ask why I am here…) I was struggling with the book, trying to finish and every time we were together in this room, there was a setback in my writing, or a detour, or something strange and distracting.

“Oh? You see me as a distraction? I can be more dangerous than that.” He burped loudly. He had the table manners of a goat.

“Bahhh”. He grinned crazily, and for whatever reason he appeared this morning, I was heading for trouble.

“First, give me your hand, and be more tender towards me.” He extended his hand across the table, and gave me a sweet smile. For some reason, he did this each visit. I never trusted him, especially when he was extending his paw.

“Hand.” He nodded to himself. “And call me ‘Lover’. I miss that from you.”

I had to smile. He was such an insecure devil.

“I am not. It’s just that you are a bad writer.” He lunged across the table and grabbed my hand. “And still not fast on your feet.”

A current flowed from his hand to mine. I was knocked back at the intensity of his touch. He had done this before but something was different today.

“You fed me. See, Bess, I was starving, and your cooking restored my strength.” He grinned and squeezed my hand. “Anna made me stronger, too…and I thank thee for her.” Anna was a good Dutch cook, apparently.

“I don’t think I want to fokken her, though.” He couldn’t resist. “Nope, don’t want to do that at all.”

He scowled. “ I read what you wrote…and again, you should stick to what you know.” He smiled, yanking my hand towards him.

“What in hell are you talking about?” He rubbed the front of his breeches, and leered.

“Sex?” Is that the word you can’t think of? You have to use sign language?”

“Ha…funny! Especially coming from a woman who obviously doesn’t know a thing about fellatio.”

I sat up, and thought back to what I wrote. “What was wrong with it?”

“See the sentence above the last.”

“Now you are going stupid. Of course I know about it, I’ve been married for years.”

“Then your husband doesn’t know much.” He had me there.

“I will teach you something useful –the devil leered again- and make you a better writer.” He grinned, and the current between us grew stronger. My hand felt like it was melting into his, the heat fusing our flesh together.

“That’s what good …(the devil burped) …sex is supposed to feel like.”

Garrett was a cock-sure devil, (“damn right”) and most of his suggestions for the novel were on target. He had lived in those years, the early part of the 19th century, and knew the social customs of the period. I could only rely on my spotty research for these things.

“Hold still. I will put something nice in your mouth, sweet woman.” Ah, God…his mind was always fixated on sex.

“It effects better parts of me too, but you keep your knees together too much. Ah, seduction of women writers is hard work.”

“You’ve used that line before, Garrett. Now, who is original.” My little joke didn’t please and he pulled me over the table and into his lap.

“Give your highwayman a kiss, sweet Bessie.” When he was in this mood, there was no denying the demon.

“Oh!” I said., sitting upright on his knee. “That’s one of my favorite poems. “The Highwayman”. I thought it the most romantic poem I ever read when I was twelve.”

“Doesn’t turn out too nice, both of them dead. That musket beneath her breast….” He shook his head and burped again. His stomach at least was all too human.

I put my head on his shoulder. He could be a sweet devil, and evoked tender emotions from me he didn’t deserve. He thought it a good time, when I was docile in his arms (“won’t last long”- I heard him think!) to pick me up and walk to the bed. He lay down besides me, and placed my head on his shoulder.

“You are rather sweet this morning, my Demon.” His temper was usually like mercury. I think we were coming to terms.

“Well, we have, my darling. I have chased away all the competition and you have me at ball and cock.”

I had to laugh. I was still married, and older by decades.

“I was born in 1790. Beat that.” (I was to find this was a lie…another one.)

I thought I was robbing the cradle. He was such a beautiful creation, but still, just a figment of my imagination.

“You really need to expand your horizons, sweeting. There are so many parts to the universe and you just occupy one. You limit yourself by what you believe.”

I never accepted the stories of ghosts, haunts or spirits, but lying by his side, I was beginning to wonder. He appeared flesh and blood enough this morning, especially as he grabbed my hand and placed it on his half mast cock swelling under his breeches.

“Good. You learn something. Am I real enough for you now? Let me show you something else.” He passed his hand quickly from the top to the bottom of my nightgown and it melted away like smoke.

“Ah! The first time I have seen you naked. You wear too many clothes. Let’s see what I’ve caught.” He pushed my hair back from my breast, and stroked a nipple.

“You have pink nipples…very pretty! And you are pink elsewhere, I see.” I lay in his arms and blushed at his words. He took my hand and placed it in his shirt, next to his heart. He always wore a heavy linen shirt and I had become enchanted by his smell of wood smoke and probably brimstone.

“Very funny, sweet woman. Now unclench those knees and let me make love to you.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me the portal to a woman’s soul is her mouth?” I thought to distract his limited mind.

He turned on his side and smiled tenderly down at me. “You use my own words against me? You show courage. You also forget I am a nasty demon.”

“Not so nasty. And getting better.” His behavior had turned my mood from irritation to tolerance. There really was no way around things, if I wanted answers. I had to play a role. Conditions were changing between us and he was softening with a gentler touch.

“I have no softness, and don’t bet on it.” He stroked my thigh and squeezed a breast. I tried the same trick on his clothes, passing my hand down the length of him, and he laughed.

“It will take many decades, sweetheart, for you to learn that trick.”

“Not even levitating a chamber pot?”

“You would have more luck just throwing it.”

He was a handful, this Demon. It was hard work keeping stride with his wit. He could have written a much better book, but then again, he likes best being the sharp-eyed critic.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2007, 2009, 2013

“Devil’s Revenge”, Chapter 5, WARNING: Sexual Content, you have been warned.

This chapter comes from a book I started at the end of 2006. The characters came from my first novel (unpublished…way too long) and finishing that novel (“Heart of the Maze”) I didn’t want to end these characters. I had grown attached and this was damn stupid. So I came up with another book, first called “Another Story” then “Devil’s Revenge”. It’s a tale of magic, demons, cosmic travel and nothing like that ponderous first book. I learned a lot from writing this book, but again, too long by far. It was the first time I used time-warping in a story. And magic.

Garrett Cortelyou is a demon, well, half human and half demon. There is a whole parade of demons in this book and it took me out of my usual comfort zone in the research. Bess is a writer, who finds herself plucked out of the 21st century to 1832. Garrett can be a chauvinist and a brute, but he has a lot of energy….

Why do we write such things, and why do we create such characters? Every writer has an answer for this…I’m still trying to figure out mine.

Lady Nyo

–
“DEVIL’S REVENGE”
Chapter 5

I had no way of telling time or sequence or anything that relates to the passage of time. I think of my society, where we grew up around various clocks: mantel clocks, hall clocks, electric clocks in the kitchen, the battery run clocks by our bedsides, and our wristwatches. In the dimension I was visiting, or found myself, there were few clocks. No one so far wore watches. Perhaps there were pocket watches, but I saw few people and couldn’t tell.

So I didn’t know what time it was of the morning, though I saw the sun had not risen. The room was colored by the timid light creeping into dawn, a blending of gray shadows. The fire had burned low during the night, and cast no glare. There before the fireplace was the Demon. He slouched in his chair, one booted foot upon the other, staring into the embers. He smoked a white, clay pipe, something I recognized as a “Dutch pipe.” He didn’t stir from his chair as I called his name, but blowing out a mouthful of smoke, he turned his face towards the bed.

“You’re finally awake.” He grinned around the stem of his pipe, his large white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the room.

“It is too early to wake, Garrett. Aren’t you cold at the fire?” I snuggled back into my pillow.

“’Ah, an invitation to your bed this early? Would do, but there is a litter of puppies around your breast.”

I opened the covers, and there under the blankets, were his four pups. Little two month old water spaniels, three boys and the girl, the runt, Sophie, snuggled between my breasts.

“Did you do this, Demon?” I laughed, for I had no memory of putting them there. The smell of puppies this close is a bit high, like sour milk.

“The fire was low when I entered the room and you looked warm enough to comfort them.”

“Have you thought what you are going to do with them, yet?”

“I aim to keep them right here, and you, my darling woman, will be nursing them for me.”

“Ah, Garrett, had you ever thought that perhaps I might be a bit too busy to care for your dogs? I am trying to finish this novel, my friend, and perhaps it would have been nicer for you to ask me first.”

“Perhaps, yes…but it still doesn’t change the outcome.” He grinned and his eyes snapped in the firelight. “The rules of the engagement are simple. You do what I want.”

“You are such an arrogant Demon! What makes you think that I will do as you demand? Have you ever heard of free will?”

“Highly overrated and doesn’t apply here.” He continued to puff and draw on his pipe and filled the room with his horrible smoke. Brimstone I believe.

“No so.” He continues to read my thoughts at will…his idea of free will, I suppose. He packed down his ‘tobacco’ with his thumb. “It’s a nice cherry and spice blend I brought from the islands… Perhaps you would prefer a pipe of opium?”

“I have never done such a thing, thank you very much.”

He turned a half-opened eye at me, and said lazily. “Perhaps before you dismiss it, you should at least try it once.”

“And why would I do such a thing? It seems a half-death to me.”

My Demon continued to puff on his pipe, the lazy whiffs of smoke spreading across the room. When I first smelled the acrid smoke, I had thought fleetingly of the pot that I used to smoke on occasion. I thought, ‘fleetingly’, but that was enough for my demon to pick up. Suddenly, the smoke was not of tobacco, but of a sweet smelling herb I recognized though I had not smelled for years.

“You bastard demon!” I laughed at him, this conjuring trick a minor one in his bag. “Do you know how hard it is to quit that stuff? That is the last thing I need to smell this morning. Way too early!”

All this ruckus awakened the dogs in my bed. They were rolling over each other, and jumping at the pink ribbons of my mobcap. Little Sophie between my breasts grunted and stretched.

“You have awoken your dogs, Garrett, now you better find something to feed them.”

He snapped his fingers and a bowl appeared on the floor in front of the fire. I handed each one from the bed to him, and he placed them around the bowl. Whatever it was, they ate with growls and snarls, stepping over each other.

“What is it you’re feeding them?” Even my runt Sophie was not shying from the food.

“Deer meat was handy.”

Well, at least he was sensible enough not to put down a dish of milk. Those pups would be runny within an hour.

“Oh, I thought about you nursing them but your nipples would give out in a day. Though it would be amusing to see your milk spout when they started to howl.”

Oh, he was a nasty demon this morning!

“Well, I’m glad you decided on deer meat instead.” What a devil he was, to think of these ways of tormenting me. His temper was like mercury, and he took offense easily. Perhaps it was part of the demon culture, for he certainly was a touchy devil.

“You should know, you thought me up.”

“Oh, Demon, I think you have had a long life before you ever came to thought.”

“It used to be Demon Lover, and now it is ‘friend’? I think we go backwards.”

Opening the covers, I smiled at him sweetly, and decided to take my chances this morning. He was an entertaining fellow, and carefully handled, could be amusing.

He put down his pipe on the table, and moved to the bed, slipping in bedside me. He placed my head upon his shoulder as he was wont to do, and settled next to me.

“You know, Garrett, I have a lot of writing to do today. I am behind with the book and want to finish before the years out.”

“You can write when I’m through with you, on the morrow…I want to show you things today. First I want to show John Thomas between us a seashell of delights.”

He was amorous in the morning. Actually, he was usually ready for a romp any time of the day or night.

“Besides, you avoided me in Chapter 4 and I mean to make up for that.” He had a scent about him that enchanting, a combination of musk and sweat and probably brimstone.

“It’s the scent of an aroused man, who is about to release a lot of little demons from his loins.” I laughed at his clumsy wit, and blushed in his arms. “You modern women wash too much. You have forgotten the scent of sex and its purpose. It draws the bees to the honey.”

Perfume and soap was such a part of my life that I didn’t realize my body produced its own scent of desire. Since he had bedded me my thinking on this had changed. After our lovemaking, we lay in a nest scented with the smell of flowers, old flowers, ashes and wood.
.

“Lie still, my darling woman, and indulge my mood here.”

When my demon demanded a thing, it was wise for me to listen. He had a way of bending me to his will, and I was learning, slowly, that sometimes there was an innate wisdom in what he did. Sometimes.

I lay in his arms. He touched my forehead, on both temples with one hand extended. He passed his hand slowly down to my eyes, and as he did, they closed. I barely felt his hand descend to my midriff, where he stopped and pressed down hard. That is where I seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep, or at least a trance. Then, with something like a slow electrical shock, from the ends of my fingers and toes, I felt a gathering of energy, something warm and concentrating, moving down the passageway of my limbs to the center of my body, where he had pressed on my stomach. It seemed that all my nerve endings were coming alive, and centering in my stomach. My pelvis was flooded with a warmth that moved back and forth across my hip bones. An exquisite feeling of tingling took hold of my face, my breast, my entire body. Suddenly, it all rushed upwards, out of my body, like a current of many colored ribbons, opening upward and outward, bursting from my body like waves of liquid and spinning off like a million stars above me. I was lifted from all gravity and hurled through space like a ragdoll. I was transformed into pure energy, or something of that nature, for I had no words to describe what was happening to me. All I knew that it was an extreme pleasure, beyond anything I could imagine, and something that I didn’t want to stop. It dissolved my body into a stream of light, flowing through and around any obstacle, any fear. I felt like I was turned inside out, and my sex had blossomed like a giant orchid. My whole body, or what was left of it, pulsated with a spent desire. Slowly, I seem to have fallen to earth, to this bedroom, to this bed, and in the arms of a man who was lying there unconscious. I looked at him, and he was naked next to me, the bedclothes on the floor. The room was over heated, though the fire was still low. I felt a wetness on my side, and looking down, saw that he was bleeding from his left side, below his heart.

“Garrett!”, I called to him in a panic. “Wake up!. Oh my God! You are bleeding, you have injured yourself.” I shook him, trying to arouse him.

He came slowly out of his trance, for it seemed that he was as spent as I was. “I am fine. It’s just a little sacrifice for this pleasure.” He passed his hand over his small wound, and it disappeared. My face was contorted with alarm, my hands on his shoulders.

“What did you do? What happened to us?”

He smiled a weak smile and cleared his throat. “There are many things in this world and out of it. That is just one. It’s pretty spectacular, but there are even better things to come.” He burped loudly. “Right now, I’m starving, and am weakened with expending that energy.” Turning over, he said with a grin. “Pretty good, no?”

I stared up at the ceiling, too weak to sit up. “Pretty good, yes.”

I lay there, silent, thinking of what had just happened. . My body felt like velvet, with no structure or nerves. I was empty of everything, completely undone.

“But why do you bleed?”

“Bess, you ask too many questions. Just think of Adam’s rib and the creation of Eve.”

He grinned at his words, and sat upright. Snapping his fingers, a tray of breakfast appeared on the table. He put on his long, linen shirt, and sat himself heavily in a chair.

I didn’t think that I could rise from the bed, much less walk to the other chair. My body was without bones.

“Oh, forgive me. I forget. That first experience usually knocks the wind out of your sails. You’ll find ways around that.”

He pushed himself out of his chair, and helped me to sit up on the side of the bed, and led me to the chair. I sat there, not dizzy, but confused as to what had happened to me. Was this what is called Tantric sex?

“Nope,” I heard him mumble as he stuffed his mouth with bread and butter. “Far beyond that earthy delight, but we can play with it next if you want. Bit of a bore, though.” He drank a swallow from his tankard of ale, as he preferred this drink instead of my tea in the morning.

I could not imagine doing anything else that day or the next! He grinned at me, the lustful devil, and pushed some bread my way. He extended his hand across the table and looked at me tenderly, and I placed my hand in his. There was a little of that current still present in the air, and it melted my hand into his.

Ah, Devil, I thought to myself. You are a dangerous man or demon, whatever you be. I wondered, when I fell back to earth, if all the atoms fell back in place. I knew I had given something to him, far beyond my heart and sex, and it seemed to involve my trust. Perhaps that was the key to his heart.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2008-2013

“A Kapitany”, Chapter 34…..

…. with a little bad language, but only in Hungarian.

I am having a lot of fun with this novel. And, I have heard recently that Hungarians are also reading these few chapters on the blog and liking the story. That means a lot. I knew that since I started posting chapters of “A Kapitany” I had readers in Hungary. That was important to me. Some of them wrote and kindly corrected some of the sentences I used in Hungarian…a very difficult language. My father’s family is Hungarian and I was raised around that complex language, but it certainly was a boon for Hungarians to give me advice on the language.

I wanted to see if what I was writing struck a spark of recognition in these readers. Of course, it’s fiction, but every writer writes from fact and experience. Or tries to.

I have almost finished the book. It’s been a long haul but now the hard work: rewrite.

Some clues to readers who haven’t been following this story: Vadas Dohendy is an art thief. He works for Miklos Karkas, who is a bigger art thief. Vadas has left Miklos’ employ and gone back to his vineyard in Noszvaj, near Eger, Hungary. He wants a new life, and Elizabeth is his way out…or an excuse. Elizabeth many chapters back was kidnapped by Miklos Farkas and his hired thugs. Both men have their own hired thugs and are gunning for each other. Playing cat and mouse, but each has a reason to kill the other. So far, the Eger/Budapest police are waiting for them to kill each other. It makes their jobs a lot easier.

Farkas means ‘wolf” in Hungarian. Vadas means “hunter”. Wolves feature heavily in earlier chapters of this novel. Grey and black wolves. Vadas told Elizabeth that black wolves come from Transylvania and grey wolves are Hungarian. Miklos Farkas originated from Transylvania, or his family did. There’s a snarling black wolf head in the hall of the lodge in Noszvaj that scares Elizabeth every time she sees it. Vadas has it there for a reason.

Jane

A Kapitany, Chapter 34

It was raining the next morning. It pelted the roof, drummed loud enough to be ‘white noise’ coming from a cd.
Vadas opened one eye, saw the gloom of the morning and curled himself around Elizabeth.

Elizabeth woke up, yawned and stretched. “Come on, it’s morning. It’s late. Get up.”

Vadas buried his head in her hair. “No, I want to stay in bed all day. You, too.”

“Vadas, don’t be silly. There are plenty of things to do today.”

“What? You got someone to visit? You want to go shopping?”

Elizabeth yawned. “No. I have no where to go. But we could do something.”

“You can scratch my back. Massage my shoulders. Maybe you trim my toenails.” He snuggled down in the covers and tightened his arm around her.

“I don’t trim your toenails, Vadas. Even if we marry, I don’t do that.”

“What? A wife does these things for the husband.”

“I’m not your wife, yet, remember?”

“So? You are in training, no?”

“Hah. Come on, Vadas. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Good. Bring back the pot.”

Elizabeth went downstairs and poured two mugs of coffee. On the way back she looked out the window at the top of the staircase. It was pouring outside. Perhaps Vadas was right. Perhaps it was a good day to do nothing.

Vadas was sitting up in bed, scratching his chest. Elizabeth handed him his mug and sat down in a chair by the window, sipping the hot coffee gingerly.

“It’s too wet to go visit the grapes, Elizabeth,” he said mournfully.

“Ok. Why don’t we go into Eger and see what furniture your aunts have stored in that warehouse?”

“We could do that. You could pick what you wanted for the house.” Vadas yawned. “We could also stay right here in bed.” He patted the bed beside him.

“Vadas, we don’t have a lot of time before the wedding. If you are serious about making the house livable, it’s going to take a lot of time and attention. The roofers should be coming soon, right?”

“Ah, we can go up there today and see where the rain is coming in, Elizabeth. Good idea. First, take care of your man.” Vadas grinned over his mug.

‘You are going to wear me out before we get married.”

“Yes I am. Aren’t you a lucky woman? The ló fasz is lonely.”

“You’re a maniac, Vadas. Later, sweetie, maybe this evening. I want to get some things done today.”

“As long as you remember the ‘later’, Elizabeth.”

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Good, I’ll join you.”

“Nothing doing, Vadas. You know what happens when you butt into my shower.”

Vadas smiled, finishing the last of his coffee.

“Listen, Elizabeth, before you go shower, I’ve been thinking. The reception? We need a big place. We can rent a hotel, or we can open part of the house. You want to live there, right? Well, we can fix up the roof. We can have people come in and repair some of the rooms. We can have chairs and tables rented. We can make part of the house livable. What do you think?”

Elizabeth stopped where she was. “Vadas? Can you afford to do this? You know that roof will cost a lot of money. And we have to agree we don’t touch the murals. We need a conservator to look at them. They might be of historic value. We don’t want to rush things. Is the house even wired for enough electricity? What about bathrooms? You are planning on, what? Two, three hundred people?”

“Elizabeth. I would be expected to have at least that many. This whole village and people from Budapest and Eger. It will be a crowd. For three days.”

Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “Vadas. Some people will have to be put up for that long. At least those from Budapest. Your aunties and my Aunt Irene for much longer.”

“We can put a tent on the grounds. We can have people from out of town stay here. It would be tight, but Maria and Janos will arrange. As for toilets? They can use the bushes.”

“Oh, stop it, Vadas”, said Elizabeth laughing in spite of herself. “Be practical. And the food? We need a wedding planner. We need caterers. We need someone who knows what to do.”

“Ok. Hire someone. Vadas pays.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief and went to take her shower. Vadas picked up a paper and started to read.

Vadas’ cell buzzed. It was Andor. Miklos was seen in Eger. Vadas sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“What are you saying? When? When was he seen?” Vadas stood up and paced while he was talking.

“Ok, ok. This changes plans for today. I have to get rid of Elizabeth. No, no. She wants to come into Eger, but that can’t happen. Yes, get Marcus and some of the other men here. I want at least two men here in the house, and two parked near the house. If Miklos is around, Elizabeth is in danger. No, I will meet you in half an hour, maybe a little more. Ok. I’ll unlock the gun cabinet in the hall. You know what to do.”

Vadas put the phone down on the nightstand. So, the bastard had surfaced and he was right under his nose. Now he had to convince Elizabeth to stay here, and not ask questions. But she would be alarmed with two other men in the house. She wasn’t stupid. She would know something was up.

Maria. She would help. Vadas threw on clothes and went down to find Maria. Janos and Maria were both in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“Good. I’m glad I caught both of you. Janos, Miklos was seen in Eger. I ‘m going there. There will be four men here, two in the house, and two parked nearby. Just in case. Maria? I need you to keep Elizabeth under your thumb. Perhaps she can help in the kitchen? I don’t want her alarmed, but these men here? She will know something’s afoot.” Vadas shrugged his shoulders.

Janos nodded. Maria wasn’t so easy.

“Vadas. Elizabeth will know. She will be scared. I’m afraid for you. Don’t do this, Vadas. You don’t know what Miklos is planning or how many men he has. Please, Vadas, don’t go after Miklos now. Let the police handle it.”

“If the police get involved, I will go down with Miklos.”

Janos spoke. “Maria. This is Vadas’ decision. You, woman, stay out of it. You just keep Elizabeth busy until the smoke clears.”

“Son? What are you going to do?”

Vadas turned in the doorway and looked at Janos. “I don’t know. Maybe beat him up. Maybe cut off his dick. Maybe I kill him. I don’t know, Janos. But I won’t go easy on Miklos. That’s if I find him.”

Vadas picked up Andor and Tomas, another man who knew what Miklos had done. Andor filled Tomas in about the sighting of Miklos. They got to Eger fast, Vadas driving like a maniac. They met the man saying Miklos had been seen. He had disappeared, though someone had followed. Vadas turned and punched the wall of a building, cursing his head off. Bad move, as he skinned his knuckles. Shoving his hand in his mouth, he looked at Andor.

“This seggfej is screwing with me.” Vadas lunged at the man, anger contorting his face.

Andor and Tomas grabbed Vadas by the shoulders and arms, holding him back.

“Vadas! Stop it. Don’t kill the messenger, you shit head,” hissed Andor.

The man went pale. He stepped back.

Vadas shook his head, recovering himself and held out his hand.

“Sorry. I lost my head.”

The man didn’t take his hand, his eyes flashing anger. Andor stepped in front of Vadas and put his arm around the man’s shoulder. He led him away and spoke quietly to him. Andor slipped something into his hand. The man looked back at Vadas and nodded.

“Maybe I should stay here and tail him myself.”

“No, Vadas. Miklos wanted you to know he was here. He’s playing cat and mouse. Go home and wait. He probably will do this again. We will get him. Just be patient.”

Vadas looked at Andor and Tomas and sighed. “You’re probably right. Miklos always was a tok feju. I just lost my head. I can’t afford to do that again.”

****

Elizabeth found the gun cabinet opened and guessed something was happening. Maria hadn’t said a word, but Janos was smoking in the kitchen, something Maria forbade him doing. They realized she knew something and tried to take her mind off Vadas’ absence. Elizabeth had already seen Marcus sitting in the hall in a chair. He nodded to her and Elizabeth could see he was armed. She walked to the gun cabinet and looked for a small pistol. Vadas’ guns were too big for her but she was damned if she was going to be unarmed. Marcus came to her and in bad English asked her what she was looking for. She said “gun” and he rolled his eyes. She opened the bureau next to the cabinet and rummaged around. She found a small .38 and opening it, saw it was unloaded. She found five bullets that fit. She flipped it closed and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans. Marcus winked and nodded at her and went back to his seat. Elizabeth went into the kitchen, pulling her sweater down so the gun didn’t show on her butt. Maria didn’t notice, but Janos did. He smiled to himself and puffed on his cigarette. This was no helpless, dumb American woman.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2013