Exclusive For STEEMIT Content – Re-edit, Re-worked.

First part of this re-edited, re-vamped story HERE

Dusty followed her friend up the stairs and into her bedroom. Dusty took a step back as she crossed the threshold of the room. “Woah! It stinks in here, Ange.” The smell hit her like a physical barrier.

“What do you mean?” Ange turned to her friend, puzzled and concerned.

“I mean it’s a mixture of tom-cat pee and...” Dusty paused, she didn’t know if she should go so far as to describe exactly what she could smell, but then she decided, in for a penny... “Well, you know when someone’s had sex and they’re not exactly hygienic to begin with?” Dusty asked carefully and waited for Ange’s nod. “That horrible sharp, fishy smell?” Dusty left it at that and allowed Ange to catch her meaning.

Ange’s hand went to her mouth at the implication. “Oh God, no! My bedroom doesn’t smell that bad, does it?”

“Yeah, it does, but it won’t in a while, don’t worry.” Dusty bent to pick up the sheets and saw the sticky mess Ange had begun to clean up. Fluid had soaked through the bottom sheet, onto the bed and left a large stain like an old bloodstain that someone had made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning. The sheet was in much the same state, the stain was still wet, and cold emanated from the centre of the bundled sheets, as though a block of ice lay between the folds of the sheet.
Dusty held the sheet out to Ange and against her better judgement, she bent forward and took a sniff.
Ange jerked back at the smell in an instinctive withdrawal, eyes watering – possibly from the effect of the stench, probably from embarrassment too.

Dusty threw the bundle in the bath as Ange recovered from the overpowering stench that assailed her nostrils. She wafted one hand before her face, the other hand clutched her throat.

“Come on, we’ve got to clear the room,” Dusty said.

They worked together for the rest of the morning, taking out the mattress together and leaning it up against the banister and then moving the bed and standing it up against the bedroom wall. They were fortunate in the fact that the bed was one of those low, modern ones that didn’t take much shifting or hefting. Dusty began to lift the carpet at the corner of the room.

“What are you doing? I understand about moving the mattress and probably the bed, but the carpet too?” Ange said, watching her friend.

“I’ve got to draw a pentagram on the floor. I have to make sure that the floor is perfectly clean because if there’s any chance of dirt in the pentagram, you’ll be in a lot of danger, and so will I. Fetch the hoover will you? Don’t take the sheets please,” Dusty called as Ange went to do as she was asked.

Once the floor was cleared of the carpet and vacuumed thoroughly, Dusty fetched a tankbag from her motorcycle. She took out a large black sheet, larger than a double bedsheet, a container of salt and two candlesticks with candles. She laid the sheet down on the floor, ensuring she removed all wrinkles and folds. She took off her clothes and placed them in a pile in the corner of the room. Ange turned her head, a little embarrassed at her friend’s unexpected nudity, but tiredness and exhaustion took its toll and she shrugged off her best friend’s strange behaviour. Dusty went into the bathroom and took a very quick but thorough shower and came back all clean, with damp hair, carrying the sheets.

Ange noticed a faint outline of a circle and a star in the centre of the sheet and Dusty traced the outline in salt. She opened the container and allowed the salt to fall in a steady stream onto the sheet in a perfect circle. Just before she closed the circle, she beckoned Ange to step forward. Dusty only completed the circle once Ange stood inside it.

“Oh, I thought that was for you,” Ange said.

“I don’t need the protective circle on this trip,” Dusty said.

She drew the star-shape to complete the pentagram. Dusty told Ange to sit down in the middle of the star where there was a large clear patch, free of salt. Dusty placed the two candlesticks on either side of Ange and lit the candles. Once Ange was comfortable, Dusty stepped out of the pentagram and muttered a lot of words that Ange didn’t recognise. After a short time, Ange didn’t notice that Dusty spoke words she didn’t understand, she drifted into a very deep and restful sleep, still in the sitting position.

When Ange had dropped to sleep, Dusty picked up the tankbag again and removed a sharp knife. It would seem to be a ceremonial dagger except that the edge glinted as it Dusty inspected it.

There was nothing ceremonial about the dagger; intended as a weapon and an effective one at that, it fitted Dusty’s hand as though it had been made for her.

Dusty opened out the sheets that Ange had stripped from her bed only a few hours before. She folded them so most of the sticky wet mess lay on the inside of the fabric and she sat upon the pile of bedding, naked and exceptionally calm. She watched her friend recharge her batteries in a deep and enchanted sleep and Dusty waited.

The clock on the bedside table that had been taken out to the top of the landing ticked and Dusty could see it from where she sat. The hands crawled their way towards three a.m. and the Witching Hour. Dusty made herself ready. From the ceiling in one corner, a dark patch spread. It appeared to be damp or mould, dark grey with patches of black, the expansion of the dark patch reminded Dusty of a time-lapse video. From the patch, a figure emerged and dropped to the bedroom floor. Dusty recognised it at once.

“Impundulu, we meet again,” she said.

The figure wore his seducing image but Dusty could not be fooled by his Glamour. Her eyes were demon’s eyes and she had performed the correct rituals to enable her to see past his enchantment. She saw him in his true form, repulsive and grotesque.

“Dusty the demon hunter, what are you doing here? I do hope you’ve come to offer me a threesome?” His words dripped honey and were meant to antagonise her; he tried only in a flippant manner because he realised that she was not going to fall into his traps designed to make her angry and mentally off-balance.

“I suppose I should have realised that it was you that had come for her. You are by far the most powerful Incubus and I should have guessed that only one so powerful as you could bewitch her and toy with her for so long without killing her.” Dusty played her own game and she was far better at it than Impundulu was. She stood up as she spoke. She moved with great care and deliberation, ensuring he saw every inch of her body. He licked his lips and studied her.

He did not realise she was flattering him and making him preen and prance in his vanity. He did not realise that she had his scent on her from sitting on the bedsheets and therefore, he was attracted to her by the smell. He also did not realise that she had stood for a reason and that reason was not to give him the full view of her trim and supple body, it was to entice him into the bathroom.

Impundulu followed Dusty without a glance at Ange and he sniffed the air as he went across the landing, entranced by her swaying hips as she walked slowly and seductively before him. When he followed her through the bathroom door into the dark room, she pushed it closed and turned to face the Incubus.

“Now, Impundulu; watch,” she said.

Dusty pulled the light cord and the fluorescent lights illuminated the bathroom. Impundulu did not understand for a moment and his demon eyes were dazzled by the bright light reflecting off the gleaming tiles and the mirror facing him... and the mirror behind him on the back of the bathroom door. He was caught between two mirrors and in them; he could see his image from the front and the back views. He could also see his Glamour image and his true image and he screeched in fury.

“You have tricked me, you traitorous bitch! You have trapped me!”

“Yes I have and now, I intend to send you back to the hell-hole that spawned you.”

She pushed the demon hard in the middle of what passed for a chest and he stumbled backwards towards the mirror on the bathroom door. As he passed through the glass and into the world beyond, his claw reached out and grabbed for Dusty.

He could not get a proper grip on her because she had on no clothes. He grasped for the hand holding the knife and he managed to get purchase on her fist. He clung desperately to her hand, dragging her with him through the mirror and into his world.

He let her go as he landed on the ash floor because she twisted her wrist and the lethal blade gashed his arm to the bone.

She landed gracefully, instantly clothing herself in her usual black jeans, black boots, black t-shirt and black leather bike jacket. She was used to the Astral Plane and knew very well how her powers of self-perception worked.

The incubus realised she was not a stranger to his world, and furious, he hissed and spat at her.
Instead of attacking her, Impundulu took to his heels and fled deeper into the ravaged lands he called home. Clutching his injured arm, dripping black blood on the surface of the pathway, he ran.

She could see into the distance where Impundulu was heading and she was in no particular hurry to follow him there. Ange would be safe for a good few hours yet and so Dusty took a look around and got her bearings before making a move.

The Ash Desert stretched out interminably to her left and she would rather have followed Impundulu through that harsh and unforgiving landscape than to the Wraith Mountains where he had taken off to.

Sighing, Dusty took to the air and moved upward. Impundulu’s unaltered, usual form stood out against the dark red of the ash road; a pale and bright thing against the background. She did not understand why he had decided to run rather than fly until she heard the caw of a massive vulture above her. Impundulu had set his familiar on her and it brought some friends along too! Dusty looked above her and saw the vulture and an accompaniment of hundreds, if not thousands of smaller birds. A variation of all shapes and sizes followed her but as she watched, her fear melted away because the smaller birds flew lower than the vulture and they obscured the vulture’s view of her. As soon as Dusty could be certain that the vulture could not see her for the mass of birds between it and her, she slowed in her flight path and hovered for a while until the birds had all gone past.

To be on the safe side, Dusty dropped to the ground and changed the colour of her clothing to a more camouflaged red. Not only would the vulture not be able to spot her from a great distance, neither would Impundulu or any other demons.

As she walked, she had time to think on Impundulu and his motives, not to mention his familiar that Dusty had just avoided.

Impundulu was one of the nastiest Incubi of his ilk. Reputed that when he seduced a woman and she gave birth to one of his offspring, it would sooner or later, become a vampire. To most people that Dusty knew, that piece of mythology would have been cause for laughter, but she knew it to be very true and had had the misfortune to meet up with more than a few of Impundulu’s wretched progeny.

Fortunately, the legends surrounding vampiric beings were also true and therefore, the number of ways to kill the vampire offspring passed from folklore into common knowledge. The progeny seemed to be not as powerful as their sire, nor as powerful as they could have been as vampires. Though they were immortal, they could also be slain – and often were, sometimes by accident.

The vulture familiar proved to be a nasty piece of work; it attacked and killed any lover of the human females the Incubus seduced. Whether by instruction from its master or for the sheer joy of it didn’t matter to the victim, the results were the same, torn to shreds by the vicious beak and talons.

Dusty knew she’d have to watch out for that if she made it back to Ange in her bedroom. If she didn’t make it back, she presumed Ange would eventually wake up on her own, but that could take days – or she may never wake up without the proper incantations.

Ooh bad idea, giving herself bad thoughts in a bad place. Dusty focussed on her destination. The Wraith Mountains lay dead ahead and she could still see Impundulu running towards them.

“Why is he running and not flying? It can’t be because of his familiar, it would protect him, wouldn’t it?” She spoke out loud, if for no other reason than just to break the deathly and ancient silence.

Dusty picked up her pace too and ran. Her Demon side took over on the Astral Plane and she remained thankful for that. Human lungs would not have coped well with the sulphurous air and the constant ash clouds wafting across her path.

Sometimes the ash was so thick that she lost sight of Impundulu.

Dusty gained on the Incubus as he reached the foothills of the Wraith Mountains. She could still see him from time to time as he struggled over the loose rocks and boulders. Again, Dusty wondered why on earth he wasn’t using his ability to fly.

She reached the foothills minutes after Impundulu and followed the path he had taken. She didn’t take to the air again for fear of the vulture familiar, but she did take huge leaps over rocks when she could see clearly enough to choose her landing place.

She looked up and saw Impundulu disappearing into a cave in the side of the mountain only a few hundred feet above her and she took one more huge leap which bordered on flight and landed at the cave entrance only moments after Impundulu had gone inside.

She rushed in and realised her mistake. Impundulu waited for her on the other side of the entrance. He struck her across the shoulders with the full weight of his uninjured forearm and knocked the breath from her body. She staggered forward and dropped to her hands and knees but she moved fast enough to avoid the vicious kick from Impundulu’s clawed foot. It swung past her nose as she pulled back her head. Dusty sprang to her feet and faced him. Her knife tucked in its sheath, she didn’t have the time to take it out, she had to rely on her unarmed fighting skills, such as they were.

She also had the benefit of her demonic powers on the Astral Plane but so did Impundulu and he was full-demon, not half, like her.

The fight was not going so well for Dusty. She caught Impundulu’s fist to the side of her head and saw stars and blackness closing in on her vision. Her last thought was that she had let Ange, her best friend in the whole world, down – terminally.

When Dusty woke up she was sitting against a large rock and her head throbbed. She looked around for Impundulu but didn’t see him and wondered why he had left her alive.

She panicked and thought about Ange, still sitting in the middle of a bedsheet, surrounded by salt and burnt-out candles.

Dusty stood up too fast. Her head thumped and her vision swam. She realised Impundulu had whacked her a fair one, but she had to get back to Ange.

Again, her sight went from normal to tunnel-vision and blackness closed in. Dusty knew she was going to pass out. Shaking her head wouldn’t help but she tried anyway and stumbled to one side, landing on one knee, with a hand to the ground to steady herself.

She felt a hand under her arm, helping her up. She looked around but couldn’t quite see who or what was helping her. She mentally prepared herself in case Impundulu tried to lull her into a false sense of security.
When she stood upright again, she feigned dizziness more than was necessary in order to put Impundulu off his guard.

“The deception is not necessary. I know that you are not so badly injured as you are making out to be. You can stand up straight without fear of further injury. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it when you were unconscious.” The voice was deep and calming and she looked up in surprise.

It was not Impundulu.

It was certainly not Impundulu.