(Warning. Serious warning. Body Horror. Dead children. Implied graphic torture mixed with sexual intercourse. Again, this is a horror story.)
"Hello Fergus." Crowley blinks and looks at his mother's body as the gag evaporates in a shower of red violet. It's pupils are suddenly a red purple and the cruel veins extending from them to her skin flash, pulsing with energy.
"I allow my mother to call me that. You, are not her." Whoever is inside Rowena smiles cruelly, a sneer that speaks even more to the fact that whoever is in there, is not supposed to be. "So, who are you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Her accent is nonexistent. The new voice; hissing, guttural and unrecognized.
"I really would." Crowley snaps and the body stiffens in pain but the smile remains.
"Go ahead. Dessstroy your mother'sss body."
"I really will. As soon as I get answers. I never thought anyone would be stupid enough to mess with my mother. Not only was she one of the most powerful witches in existence...she's... my… mother. I get to torture her. Not you."
"I heard you didn't do that anymore. Got passt your family drama."
"Yes. Well what's a little torture between family." Gross. "Now. I suppose this was done for a reason. Besides the kuman thong?" What the Hell is that?
The smile grows wider, and blood trickles out of the mouth, staining lips red. The body leans forward and I see a slight flash, an earring. Nothing special, sapphires in gold...that match the purple red of Rowena's eyes. I wonder if he can hear me in here. This prison was supposed to be for souls a regular demon collected, not talking, not loud. He tried to keep me out of the one for eating. I don't really know what rules applied anymore since it seemed he could put nearly any soul in any stomach.
"Not my thing. Bonussss really. I only needed seven after all."
I am suddenly torn from that place and pushed into the one for regular food. It's sometimes hard to tell them apart in the red swirling mist unless it was the one that connected him to the line or the one that ate you. That one tended to hurt now, with all the force of him behind it. The 25 million souls plus Crowley buffeting you. When it was just me, hundreds of years ago, I guess he put me in there, not really knowing. He hadn't really used the prison before, or done anything with it. Now, he had full knowledge and control of all these prisons. I still don't understand it. But I'm human. I don't think I am supposed to.
Either way I am pulled out of that prison into another and feel myself passing Rowena, unconscious, glowing with angry red and purple that I can feel, not see. I land and find myself beside Bobby. So that's why I wasn't in the one for contracts. He wanted us to discuss. I wonder if Bobby saw the earrings.
"I did. Those earrings ain't normal." What's a kuman thong? "Kid...you don't wanna know." Not a kid. Currently spending eternity with a demon. I'm sure I'll be fine. Bobby sighs but explains. "Aborted fetuses, dried out, lacquered, painted in gold leaf, and wrapped in red holy papers. Sold as guardian spirits or good luck charms in Tibet. Yeah. It's a real thing." Ugh. Get a fucking four leaf clover, fucking Hell. "This goes a bit beyond that Bec. If the ritual is done by a real witch, they work." Oh. Gross.
Crowley looks at the person wearing his mother's body and begins to pace.
"So what is it you do want?"
"You'll find out ssssoon enough." The light fades from the body's eyes and it slumps over, the glowing earrings losing their luster.
"Bollocks!" Crowley curses and takes a breath. We watch as the veins lighten around the eyes and the aura of power lessens. He grabs the earrings, as in they appear in his hand, and throws his mother unceremoniously back into her body. He is about to pocket the earrings when they spark back to life, along with the veins. He backs up, and while Rowena doesn't awaken, the aura of power grows.
"Bollocks."
….
We are in purgatory with Rowena, who is still asleep, or unconscious. Crowley is pacing back and forth in front of her floating body, which Dragoness is examining.
"I find it amusing that you bring her to me and not your demons, King of Hell."
"They failed me, and I currently don't trust them."
"They betrayed you?"
"Actually, no. They were however, complete morons!"
Jarrod is dead and gone, killed for his stupidity. He had honestly thought he was working with Rowena, making some extra money with the kuman thong and pissing off the cooks who had banned him from the kitchen… for other reasons I don't want to think about.
"Seriously, who does that to soup?" Both Bobby and I shudder.
"So what do you want from me King of Hell?" Crowley stops pacing and looks up at the 20 ft form in front of him that is holding his mother in the air with a thought. He takes the earrings out of his pocket and examines them. The sapphires still glow slightly with red and violet energy. The teardrop shaped gems are surrounded by gold in intricate swirls and etchings that dangle from a single golden square stud. They are beautiful, and seemingly indestructible. He had tried fire, disenchantments, salting, and more. He holds them out in his palm towards the living embodiment of fire.
"Can you destroy these?"
"Of course. But it would do no good. That is merely a psychic link, what allows the spell holder to enter and use the body of the bewitched. The spell on your mother is already cast. Besides, should you not use them to scry on your quarry?"
"They are under warding."
"As any smart witch should be." Dragoness blinks and the earrings are gone, and in her hand, between two claws. They are tossed into her mouth. Well, I suppose that was why they hoarded gold. Crowley is still furious. He has no idea who this person is, or what they are doing, or how they got to Rowena. No way she would just put on something without checking for magic, right?
"What are they doing to her? Can you stop it?"
"Oh no. As with most magic, it must be destroyed at the source. And no, King of Hell, I cannot 'write it away'. It has already happened, there are rules, remember?"
"Bollocks." He walks up and regards Rowena, his mother. His mother who was actually being a mother to him. Who he still didn't know what to think of, who he was fairly incapable of returning the emotions he sought from her, except through Other people's souls. But still, that was other people's feelings, not his own. He liked it that way, it had worked for a very very long time. Because he was fairly incapable of returning the sentiment, fairly. With 25 million souls, 100 of which were currently in states of white or pink sparks, he had started to feel, very slightly, things. Feelings. Dull, tainted, twisted, but there. And he did not know if he liked that. Sure, he was changing the souls he collected into part of himself...but what were they doing to him? When he had first done this our speech patterns had mixed a bit in the two months he spent with me. He had learned to control that quickly, thought that besides the occasional craving for a certain experience, there were few side effects he did not like.
Perhaps that was not true. Either way, he still didn't know how to feel about it, because he Felt about it. Him. Not the souls he carried. Him.
I did some math. Highly speculatory. He is 90% demon and 10% whatever dragoness did to him, because I think that's why he's red. So if each soul he added became him, but like the theory of Hawking Radiation, every soul left a bit of itself behind… an anti-particle that instead of becoming the thing that absorbed it like a black hole does, escaped, or in our case, changed it...well. I couldn't do that math, but I think he is less than 75% demon now. What that meant he was though...cuz it wasn't human, I had no clue.
And neither did he.
"Me too. But I know I don't like it."
"Bully for you both. Quiet. This isn't good." While I had been lost in my own thoughts Crowley had been examining Rowena. Apparently he had found something, something disturbing.
"She is losing power." What? "Her ability, her arcane nature, is being taken."
"Oh that ain't good."
"No, it 'ain't' Robert."
"Well, it would most definitely explain the sigils." We all stare at Dragoness, well Crowley does and we agree. She rumbles in amusement and her eyes twinkle with a mischievous red. "Dragon eyes see the world a bit differently." She grins and inhales through her teeth. She turns to Rowena… and immolates her in red fire.
Crowley backs away quickly as the flames engulf Rowena, bright and red, covering her form completely. Red smoke issues forth, similar to Crowley's, and as it lessens, the world around Rowena glitters through its thinned state, her body untouched.
Red violet sigils made of wisps of light hover around her, lines of energy flowing from them to her eyes, from the ether drawing power, and then out back again to some unknown source. The symbol in front of her is one I know, the symbol for magic, the seven pointed star. At each point a tiny light glows, and in its center is another symbol, one I don't know, but I assume it's not nice.
As the smoke spreads, sigils appear occasionally where puffs of the red float. Hundreds of lines flow from Dragoness into the ether, energy from the world flowing into her body, her will flowing out of it, affecting anything and everything she wants. The gate to Hell has hundreds of sigils around it, crackling with blood red energy. Crowley looks down and from his right side, where the prison that connected him to Hell's souls resides, a bright white line flows into the ether and disappears. Sigils float around his head where his crown sits, invisible and untouchable to the world. Dragoness picks up a toothpick, well a stick to us, and blows red fire on it. It ignites, sparking as the pine needles ignite, giving off the same red smoke.
"Holy Shit. That's just...there all the time?"
"How did you think magic worked Hunter Robert? The energy from all spells is there, I can just see it."
"She can hear me?"
"I hear what I want. Now, King of Hell, today you may call me Ariadne, and I shall call you Theseus. Use this smoke to find the thread that will lead you through the labyrinth, at the end you shall find your witch of a minotaur. Do not let the flame die, my Theseus, my King of Hell, for I shall not give you another bit of my breath. Go. I shall be watching." She holds out the stick in her claws and Crowley takes it. He rolls up his sleeves, out of reach of wayward sparks, and as he does two gold cufflinks appear with the same sapphires from before. With the smoke the red blue lines from them are visible, trailing off into the ether.
Crowley looks at Dragoness with a raised brow.
"You thought I ate them? Magic does not always impart a pleasing taste upon gold."
"You knew, this whole time, what was going on." Says Crowley, trying to control his temper. The Dragoness just grins.
"Do not let them touch your skin King of Hell." Crowley frowns and nods.
"And what do I owe you for your assistance?"
"Nothing. You ate the pizza, drank the proverbial kool aid. You are my friend King of Hell, and that means, on occasion, you get Things with no strings attached. I believe, they are called 'gifts'." Both Robert and I snort, and are shot through with pain. "I will watch over your witch as you hunt. You have three days before your mother loses her magic, and another witch compounds their power with hers. Make haste Theseus." Crowley nods, looks to the right at a pile of dead pine branches, and we are gone.
…
Every hour or so Crowley adds another branch to the rudimentary torch. I think he has hammerspace, which is fucking awesome. Either way the smoke shows the line of red violet light floating in the ether so he keeps the torch going. Now that we are one on Earth the lines of light don't disappear but lead off in one direction consistently. Even though it wiggles, twists, and turns in the air as if magnets or invisible currents move it, it still points in one direction. One we follow.
It leads us across a glade, through a forest, across an ocean. He teleports in jumps, 50 or more miles at a time, except for the ocean, trying to pinpoint the location. We travel for two days, through cities, alive and bustling, shimmering towers and cars that are smooth and shiny. Through ruins of the most recent war, and the towns that are rebuilding nearby. Wind buffets everything everywhere, but the flame seems to only be concerned with its fuel. Finally we end our journey at a town in France, one I have not seen in a very long time. We get some stares for a brief moment at the border of it, the historical town that had been declared a 'new tech' free zone. Still a torch is a bit odd. He walks behind the trees, into the forest, and he bamfs away. We stand atop a building, staring at the house on the small hill, one with white pillars, and a very large glass window on the second floor.
Anton's house.
"Who the Hell is Anton?" He was a warlock, then a contract signer, then an ally, then a betrayer, then entertainment, then-
"A dinner date." More dinner than date….
Crowley glares at the building and with a thought stands in the room we stood in what seems eons ago. The desk is still the same, the white pillars the same, the marble, the bay window, all the same.
The person sitting at the desk, is not.
"'Ello Crowley. 'Ow are you thisss fine eve?" The woman looks young, the same complexion, same hair, same facial structure as Anton. Her accent being let through now that there is no hiding behind Rowena. Her hair is short, neck length, a very japanese cut that frames her face and shows off earrings that match Crowley's cufflinks. Her dress is also of Japanese style, the embroidery of flowers outlined in gold stands out beautifully on the black silk. Crowley drops the burning branch into one of the empty marble planters to the right, filling it with more of the brush he had taken. The witch watches him, curious, but silent, patient.
"Julia. I suppose this is about Anton."
"Yesss." As she smiles I see fangs, the reason for the hiss. Crowley raises a brow.
"The fangs are new."
"I made a deal wiz a dying naga, thisss wasss ze resssult."
"Well, either way, I thought you hated Anton, with a passion, considering you tried to kill him multiple times."
"Yesss, but 'e wasss mine to kill. Not Yoursss. He wassss my brozer."
"He broke a deal with me."
"'E failed, asss 'e wasss wont to do. I want him back, bring 'is soul back from 'ell, and I will stop ze spell." Uh-oh.
"Yeah, uh-oh, don't cut it. Let's just hope for the best and that this bitch kills Crowley." Yeah, no, not gonna happen. Not likely. But a witch with her and Rowena's power… even if Crowley loses? "That does sound kinda bad, but I think I'd prefer her to Crowley."
"You have not met Julia." Crowley says quietly and Julia hisses and glares. "Pardon, I have some friends talking in my ear. Also, my greatest apologies, but I can't. He isn't there."
"Zhen Get 'Im!"
"I can't, he isn't anywhere." Crowley, not the time for dramatics. I can feel his disagreement, he is enjoying this scene too much. The smoke from the branches is filling the room, Crowley has added more fuel to the fire. Sigils, leylines, runes; magic is visible everywhere. They flicker angrily, but not as angrily as Julia's eyes.
"Zat isss not posssible. Witchesss do not go to zey Empty."
"Of course it is. Well, if he was anywhere I suppose it would be with me." Crowley looks at the desk, hands in pockets. "I'm surprised you got all his blood off the desk."
""E wasssn't 'ere when I wasss called 'ome. Zere wasss no body. I had to do a divining ssspell to find out 'e wasss dead."
"Of course there wasn't a body, I cleaned my plate like a good little demon."
"Zen you 'ave 'iss sssoul. Give it to me!" Julia's face is painted with anger, her neck stretched and the tendons showing in her rage and impatience.
"I can't darling, I said I cleaned my plate and I meant it." Oh boy.
Julia screams and throws her hands up, red light streaming from them in an instant. It arcs towards Crowley, who vanishes. This is a powerful witch, as powerful as Rowena. If she got Rowena's power too...Crowley stands behind her, angel blade thrusting down. Julia spins and dodges, a chain of energy holding the blade at bay. With the aid of the smoke, all the magic is tangible, visible, no longer just words and force moving things around. Although I have a feeling with her level of power, a lot of Julia's more intense spells would be visible without the smoke.
The chains twist around the blade and fling it out of Crowley's hands. Crowley backs up a bit in surprise, she shouldn't be that physically powerful. Julia smiles and her eyes flash to slits of pupils, snake eyes and she hisses. The naga.
With a thought another blade is in Crowley's hands and he is gone, across the room.
"Laqueum!" Red energy in the form of ropes appears and lashes out, but Crowley vanishes again, and appears to the right. Julia screams and with an angry wave the ropes turn into violently cracking whips. They quickly strike at Crowley as she uses the energy from the spell to create a new one. The whips lacerate his suit and bite the skin. It burns and weeping lash marks appear on his chest, flooding his shirt with blood. The wounds quickly start healing and Crowley frowns and throws the blade at Julia.
"Revertere ad mittensss!" Energy crackles from her through the smoke and hits the dagger which freezes in the air, and then flies back towards us, pointy end first. Crowley lets it hit him, grinning as the demon killing dagger lights up his chest, and nothing happens. Julia curses and throws her hands to the side, energy building, pressure in the room rising.
"Rowena was a friend of yours Julia."
"We've both betrayed each ozer hundredssss of timesss, ssshe'd underssstand."
"Taking her power? I doubt that darling. I believe even my mother thought that a bit far. After all, she just killed her enemies."
"Well, we were boz kicked out of ze coven. We lossst contact in ze 18th century. I wasss busy fucking around wiz zey foolish alchemissstsss in Britian." Julia circles, and Crowley returns the favor, pulling out the dagger, ready for her next move. She continues to talk, perhaps to try to distract him, a tactic he used frequently. "Ze onesss who zought zey were talking to angelsss. Poor dearsss. Zey lasssted yearsss asss my petsss, zey onesss who finally got the sssorcerer'sss ssstone to work. Ssso I wasss ssstill occupied when I 'eard zey coven wass being desstroyed. Shee ssseemed to 'ave it well in 'and. Ssso-" Crowley waves a hand to throw her against a wall, blood red energy flowing at her, but a wall of red, and now purple, flares up to Julia's left, blocking it.
"Oh shit." Yeah, that was a bit of powerful magic. Crowley frowns, that type of attack was a main tactic of his, especially when he didn't want to get in close, and he certainly wanted time to dodge here. Although, it gave her the same ability. He snaps, blood red energy going out in waves, visible in the smoke, as if the very sound carried the magic. Perhaps it did. However, the same wall appears, protecting her as they both circle each other with predatory intent. He had wanted to enjoy this fight for a bit, but it was becoming concerning. They are at a stalemate unless he gets in close.
So he does.
He appears behind her, grabbing her in a hug, knife against her throat.
"Glaccci-"
"None of that." A hand clamps over her mouth and he twists, snapping her neck. Her body goes limp, then rigid, as it falls into a pile of scales that tinkle as they hit the floor. Crowley looks at them for a moment, shining green in their splendor and then turns away in annoyance and frustration.
"Shit." I'm guessing that wasn't her real body. "Simulacrum." With a thought blood red energy arcs in an instant toward the burning branch which appears in Crowley's hand. He looks at the fire in the planter and with a thought it is filled with sage, burning slowly, cleansing the room of magic and energy, which is everywhere. Remnants crackle through the red smoke like static. The sigils and runes on the walls glow with angry light, Crowley himself is lit up with blood red energy, his anger putting out pressure and affecting the ley lines around him. I guess this might be how angels sense demons and vice versa, the low output of energy from the act of possession. Behind my soul, it hid him, but right now, against a witch, he didn't want to be human, to be behind a human soul. That was Not an asset in this fight. He straightens his suit jacket and follows the line of violet red from his cuffs out of the room.
He has 14 hours left before the ritual is complete. Before the last bit of power that had been drained from Rowena, is transferred to Julia. Before she might be a danger to, if not him, his plans.
"The whole fuckin world judgin by what she did back there."
"Probably Robert. So, let's go save the world, again."
"Yeah, so you can keep eatin souls." Bobby, haven't you figured it out yet? He does it for the scotch and 'the lulz'. I get a slight silent chuckle alongside the jolt of pain this time.
Crowley follows the glowing lines of light to the left and through a wall paved in tile with wooden walls, plants, and pretty things. The door at the end of the hall next to the window has runes glowing and dancing across it. The light leads us there and it is, of course, locked.
"Locks are just flimsy suggestions." Says Crowley as the door is blown away with a thought. The warding turns white and vanishes as soon as he walks through, an alert spell has been activated. We step down the stairs, and as we follow them wood is soon replaced with stone one flight down. We are subterranean. Natural light flows through a few small windows but most of the room is lit not by torch or natural light but by glowing arcs of energy coming from small dead bodies at each point of the seven pointed star. The energy arcs through them as they lie spent, burning on the ground, turning to ash slowly from the energy they helped gather. It is a grotesque perversion of the memories made at Pompeii and they stare in horror at the ceiling, eyeless. I am grateful Crowley is paying them no mind, for I would surely be breaking down in tears and rage if we looked at them longer. Bobby shares my sentiment.
The energy arcs, violet, towards the center of the star. The center of a magic tesla coil where Julia is hit by bolts of energy raining down from above at the meeting of all the bands of arcing light. Her naked body flashes from inside with each hit, veins showing where the shadow of her skeleton doesn't hide the light. She speaks, eyes slowly opening showing permanently altered eyes with slit irises and green pupils.
"Crowley."
"Julia, in the flesh this time I hope?"
She wastes no time and with a wave one of the pillars of lightning turns from her and reaches out to Crowley. He dodges with a step and continues walking forward at a slow deliberate pace. The energy is familiar, it feels like Rowena.
"Pedes gelida!" The spell arcs, red and violet, toward Crowley, but misses, hitting the floor in front of him. The burning torch is thrown aside, specifically into a tapestry, and forgotten, less needed now. The magic here is powerful enough to be visible, tangible, dangerous. The air sparkles and shimmers and latent sparks manifest and vanish as if the air was a dry quilt and someone was rubbing it, static electricity sparking to life seemingly at random. Of course static electricity isn't at random, and neither is this. With each pull from Julia and Crowley the fabric of reality is manipulated through the leylines and will alone; sparking with protest and the amount of energy being pulled through it. Crowley steps and his feet stick, he looks down and hex bags litter the floor. With a thought he teleports, negating the spell by sheer range to the activated hex bag. With a wave a line of purple energy arcs towards him after detaching itself from the center. It hits the floor this time, Julia's anger and desperation making her wild and reckless, she is unable to stop it. The floor cracks where Crowley's foot was moments before.
Crowley is at the edge of the star, the energy flashing between the arcs of Rowena's stolen power. He reaches forward and his hand lights with purple fire that eats at the skin and turns it to ash. He can't get in.
"Mens contritum!" The spell breaks through the now smokey room, hands with claws heading towards Crowley's head, we vanish again and Julia screeches in rage at her elusive enemy. There was a pattern here. Spell, energy arc, spell, energy arc. Fuck, this was a boss fight in a video game. She couldn't use more than one arc at a time, or something, couldn't do a spell and concentrate on controlling the arc of energy. One at a time.
"That doesn't help me Chew Toy." You need to figure out the correct move… or maybe it's not a fight but a puzzle... Let the arc hit you, grab it and let it pull you inside. All of them together create a barrier, one you might be able to handle. Use it as a kind of grounding agent to let the energy pass through you instead of into you.
He pauses, it could work, or incinerate his body. He stands still and sure enough another arc of energy slams towards him. Julia screams in triumph as it hits, not realizing he has in fact, grabbed it. Energy flows around and through him. Burning us, his skin, his suit. We are aflame in a million ways, all of them most definitely suck. The clothing ignites more as he walks forward, Crowley trying to heal his body as fast as the magic eats away at it. Everything is fire.
As he steps through the outer edge of the pillars of energy the one he is holding snaps back into place. With a thought he douses the flames and continues to walk toward his foe. She screams and tries to back out of the symbol in the very center, but is stuck in place by the ritual. Her green eyes look around wildly for a moment before fixing on Crowley in a panic.
"Ligurrio!" The spell rushes red and purple towards Crowley, mouths and human hearts and hands forming from the rushing energy as he lets it hit him. The magic surges through him, not unpleasantly, and his eyes flash many shades of red; from happy pink to lustful ruby to the hungry shade of raw meat. Crowley shakes his head and tuts his disappointment.
"Bad choice darling, very hard to control the outcome of that spell. See love isn't really a thing for demons; but hunger, lust? Vibrant and entwined. So congrats, your spell was successful. In so...many...ways. "
Crowley stands above her, lit by a red violet glow, flickering energy above them playing across quickly healing skin. The ground cracks as Crowley reaches out and grabs Julia by the throat, lifting her up with one hand he covers her mouth with his, preventing her from casting more spells. He is completely complying with the enchantment, willingly and voraciously. The kiss is passionate, hungry, and violent with its need. His mouth searches for the perfect angle and when he finds it...the kiss ends abruptly. Very abruptly. He pulls back and part of her comes with.
"Oh god." Crowley ignores, no relishes in the disgust his prisoners feel as he swallows a bit of lip and tongue. He holds her by the neck, uncaring of her grasping clawing hands at his throat and the blood pooling from his mouth at her own attempts to cause him pain, to escape. His eyes are full of the type of contempt that can only be given to something, not someone.
"I had to ruin my suit to get in here."
"Oh Fuck off." Do you really want to use that terminology right now Bobby?
"I hate when people ruin my suits." The energy above fizzles and flickers and then retreats into the ether as the sigils holding it together crumble more and more. The purple energy flashes out of Julia's eyes as the spell withers slowly away. "So, I'm going to show you exactly what I did to your brother. I am going to show you very slowly. While Anton got some jollies before he realized I wasn't playing our usual game, you are already quite aware what game this is, and it isn't Monopoly." Crowley wipes the blood from his lips and tightens his grip. "So, your bed... or mine?"
…...
Crowely returns to Purgatory a week later, having finally finished with Julia, and gotten a new suit. He had done... He had made good on his words. He had shown her what he did to Anton. He had shown her slowly. Julia had gotten some pleasure out of it too. It's best to start with something nice, but one was Crowley's favorites, and almost nothing Crowley likes is 'nice.' It is the type of euphoria that happens when the reprieve from pain so sought after and longed for that it feels like ecstasy no matter what it is. After a point… Anything to stop the pain, even for a bit. And the reprieve makes the return to white hot agony so much worse. So these favorites of his happen right before a slow agonizing death becomes a joy, because you can see the end of the tunnel.
Crowley rarely liked anything simple. And hundreds upon hundreds of years worth of experience with torture meant nothing was simple.
Bobby is quiet, having never experienced that amount of horror before. He had seen cruelty, duplicity, even evil from Crowley. He had not seen Crowley really Be a demon. I had, I can't say I'm fine, but I'm far more used to it. The fact that I'm used to it scares me far more than the torture now.
Crowley walks, hands in his pockets and a spring in his step. He had had a lovely week. The first part he spent on earth before bringing Julia to Hell. Her body, what was left of it, and soul had been dragged down by Growley. He had taken her to the room, the dual bedroom torture chamber, recently enlarged to fit his demon form. He had shed his suits and set them aside as he slowly tore away what was left of the body until just her soul remained. He hadn't done this with no tools but his double edged claws. That flesh quickly went past the razor sharp teeth in his second mouth, speared and devoured as if each piece was nothing more than a blackberry oozing juice.
They had spent the rest of the week there. Sorry. He, Julia, and I had spent the rest of the week there. Robert was in a jar after the first five minutes when it was apparent he would 'ruin the fun' with his threats, nausea, or attempts at revolt. So he was sent away.
Crowley had everything he needed for a 'good time' in that room. Food, drink, torture tools, me to shudder quietly while exuding tangled emotions, and a lovely woman he could torture and rain revenge upon in numerous ways until finally she would just be... gone. He started slow, with nice things, things that made them both happy, things to confuse her, before she finally remembered he was still under the spell. She had dispelled it only to find to her surprise that nothing changed. He was showing her what he did with Anton after all, and that included everything that led up to the sudden surprise of being tortured mid coitus by your supposed 'business partner.' Five days of pain, five minutes of taunts and horrid offers, one hour of begging and bargaining, four hours of reprieve, six hours of pain… and then... Inside the red prison next to me just long enough to rip the magic she had managed to steal clean out of her soul. Then she was nothing. A memory.
So yes, he is quite happy as he steps through the door to purgatory.
"Fergus!" He is immediately met with a hug that slightly dampens his mood. Rowena holds him, her eyes glittering with a myriad of emotions. Crowley steps back and nods.
"Rowena. I have a present for you." He takes a vial from his pocket and holds it up, shaking it once. Blue violet light fills it, flashing and twisting in circles. "I believe this is yours." Rowena grabs it.
"My...How did you even get this back?" Crowely just smiles and walks towards Dragoness who is also smiling with far too many teeth.
"I watched everything, I enjoyed the thing you did with the spoon." Both Bobby and I shudder. The spoon still gets me every time, it is horrible.
"It's always nice to have an audience." Dragoness chuckles while Bobby cringes.
"Fergus...I...I remember gettin a present from Julia...and then nothing. Dragoness said she was tryin to steal my magic, is that true?"
"Yes mother." Rowena's face turns red.
"'At wee fanny. she was aye jealoos ay mah magic! Did she gie whit was comin' tae 'er? Whit did ye dae tae 'er?"
"What would you have done mother?"
"Ah woods hae roasted 'er alife an' fed 'er tae th' dogs." Crowley pauses.
"I believe those are one of the few things I did not do." Rowena huffs and takes a breath.
"Good. Wee cunt. She still around?"
"What do you think, mother?" Rowena sighs and takes a breath, calming herself.
"I would have liked a turn Fergus."
"With what was left? I doubt it." He pauses and looks her over, his gaze cold. "From now on, any gifts you recieve, anything you buy, or steal, or obtain, will be gone over by a team of demons first. If this happens again, in any way...well it won't happen a third time. Do you understand mother?" Rowena rolls her eyes but nods.
"Fine by me Fergus, I dinnae think I have any friends left that aren't dead anyway." Crowley nods and looks at Dragoness.
"See you in a week for our hunt." Dragoness grins.
"I look forward to it. Bring your mother back sometime, I had an interesting time teaching and talking old magic. She has wonderful stories." Crowley looks at his mother, preening in the praise, and I feel a spark of an idea.
"I'm sure she does."
