Archive of Our Own ^beta

Every student had the symbol of the spiked wheel propped up on the wall of their dorm. The Holy Three-Faced God's Wheel, as it was known in every altar, served as protection to the students of this school, there to grant them a figure to pray to each night.

Before bed, Fiona always turned the wheel upside down. 'The grinning face,' she recalled, 'shall be pointed hellward.'

'That is when you will invite the devil in your room.'

She had dreams.

Sweet, sweet dreams. 

Sweeter than anything a god-fearing girl ought to have, but it was a good thing that she feared no demon, she thought. There was nothing demure about these midnight escapes. Though her memory was aimless, in these times when she slept—her human mind just couldn't take much of it into the waking world—if it were up to her….she'd never choose to forget it. 

There was always someone there, waiting for her. A beautiful being. Indeterminate. Arms holding her, voices soothing the tremors, claws stroking her hair.

Those same claws could also drag long, territorial scratches along her thighs when they wanted to. The trails they left shimmered. Gentle drops of blood. Fiona's gasps were robbed by cold lips, then a tongue, longer than a human's. It stroked hers with all the patience of an experienced lover.

"Let me stay longer," Fiona pleaded, feeling like her mind could float in these dark clouds forever. "Please."

She heard the reply, but couldn't define the voice, or the exact words. But she understood the meaning.

'Until you find me, you will forget.'

'Just as you forget a dream.'

Then a terrible mouth feasted. 

Fiona woke up. The loving marks on her skin were gone. So was the phantom feeling of a kiss, or the sensation that perhaps, some part of her dreaming soul must have been taken away.

She simply did not care. That was how humans woke in the mornings. Dreams faded, they opened their eyes to realize they’d been drooling on the surface they slept on, and then they endured their graceless return to the realm of human responsibility.

Time to face the day. It was back to school.

***

When Sister Michiko was ‘attacked’ by the mirror ghost, Fiona only felt miffed.

Like, come on. Practically everyone had been terrorized by a demon at this point. The question was: when was her turn coming up?

The infamous St. Antonio’s University was at least a few centuries old. Its architecture came complete with a sketchy history and an even sketchier forest surrounding its perimeter, so no one should’ve been surprised by anything that went down within. 

The textbook paranormal college for the average scholar. Ghost stories here were bound to get creative.

And creative they were.

Last year, forty corpses were discovered under the school. And six months ago, a rumor sprung up of the headless boy running around the Art Department after dark. When Founders’ Day rolled around, all the portraits of Joseph Desaulniers around the school were defaced. Ink-shot eyes and everything. Actually, that last one wasn’t much of a ghost story, was it? Just a case of vandalism. They caught the vandal anyway. It was the Photography teacher, who disappeared afterwards in mysterious circumstances and was never seen again, so….maybe it wasn’t just vandalism, in the end?

The stories never ended. There was always something new to find out. Sister Michiko’s attack happened in the teachers’ bathroom, wherein the aftermath of the scene was depicted as a ring of shattered mirrors surrounding the unconscious sister. Though her immaculate habit had torn, her body remained uninjured, her mind whole. That was the good news.

But there was more gossip to uncover.

“We’ll be having a substitute for Domestic Arts today because of another incident,” Galatea sighed. 

“Oh? What incident?” Fiona said, plopping on the chair next to Galatea's station. The sculpting studio, according to both of them, was one of the most peaceful rooms in the university. Sunlight streamed through the windows and bathed everything in honey gold. It was quiet too. No one wanted to hang out in this place. Probably because a senior got flayed alive here a few semesters ago.

Galatea’s fingers worked clinically, pressing clay around a wire. “I heard,” she said, “that Father Jack has to undergo exorcism after having sex with a demon.”

“Again?”

“Mhm.”

“Was it the same demon?”

“I think so.” Galatea gleefully dispensed the news. “Same claw marks on his back, same white butterflies appearing around his room.”

“He looked totally normal this morning though.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

“I suppose he just wasn’t ‘enchanted’ quite ‘violently’ enough by this demon, if he can function all fine and proper afterwards,” Fiona said, recalling the specific words that had been used to describe what happened. Many students had giggled about the pastors' choice of terminology. Violent enchantments soon took on a reputation as a euphemism among the students—one of their best ones yet.

Galatea waved her scalpel. “Oh Fiona, we should think more about who is enchanting who, really. Could it have been the demon courting the human? Or the other way around? In these kinds of scenarios, we could never know unless we were there.”

“I want to be enchanted violently,” Fiona sighed in longing.

“Keep an eye out for opportunities.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve already experienced something fun in this stupid school! You saw the haunted statues in the garden!” 

“When they trampled all over my hyacinths, sure. And nearly killed me.”

“Trampled hyacinths and a near-death experience.” Fiona tapped her fingernails, painted black with a violet sheen, against the table. It was only in the sunlight that one could see the pentagram symbols she’d traced on them. “You’re so spoiled. I can’t even get some mysterious wind blowing my papers off my desk.”

“Please. Mysterious wind is weak stuff.”

“I’d take it over nothing. I can’t graduate St. Antonio’s without getting fucked by one demon! That’s just—not allowed!”

Galatea laughed. She was very cavalier about this whole thing. “You can’t say nothing has been happening to you!” she said with a droll tone. “Don’t you remember that one time all our classmates threw up blood at the winter solstice and you didn’t? Or when we were freshmen being forced to cross the dark forest? You were the only one who came out the other end without vomiting ghost spiders. Maybe you just have this perpetual ‘virgin sacrifice’ aura around you that protects you from malignant entities. Yeah?” 

Galatea moved her fingers vaguely to encompass what a virgin shield might look like, if there was even such a thing. 

“What do you think?”

Her words weren’t flattering. Though Fiona did think being a ‘sacrifice’ at least had the cadence of excitement to it, so she could give credit there. It sounded a little romantic too. All that imagery of lambs and delicate altar maidens and torture rope. Being a sacrifice was better than suffering the role of a mere bystander in the horror movie plots that Fiona’s classmates (and teachers) were living through.

“Besides that, you’re not completely immune,” Galatea added. She’d finished caving holes to act as eye sockets into her clay, and was now attaching tiny, milky teeth to a miniature upper jaw. “You whimper in your sleep.”

“Many people whimper in their sleep.”

“Yeeees. But you sound like you’re being burned alive sometimes. Or….something else. I don’t know. You never recall the things you dream about.”

Galatea focused on her work.

“That’s not me being immune,” Fiona said. “That’s me having a whorish fantasy in the night.”

“You said you’ll ‘take what you get,’ so I’m telling you what you should be taking. Since I am your kindly roommate who never complains when you forget to clean the chalk off the floor. Someday your life will be extraordinary and you may, in fact, regret it,” Galatea warned.

Fiona sighed dreamily. “I hope I regret it.”

Galatea gave her own sigh, too used to Fiona’s behavior at this point.

The school bell rang in the speakers. Fiona got up, took her bookbag, and smoothed out the wrinkles on her white uniform so it could be as pristine as possible. Last time, she got reprimanded along the hallway because her collar (which was slightly askew) showed ‘too much neck.’ Too much neck? What did that even mean? Was it possible to have excess neck, and was there a circle in hell reserved for the people who did have it? Ugh.

Galatea, who had a free period, stayed in her seat. “Oh, before you forget,” she piped up.

She twisted some last few wires before offering up her project to Fiona. It was Fio’s favorite horned headband, the one she wore everyday. Being a fond friend of hers, Galatea liked to create figures out of clay, beads, paper, or foam—whatever she could get her hands on really—and attach them to Fiona’s horns for fun. After each day, she replaced them with something new. One time it was an ouroboros coiling around the horns. Another time, a gleaming tentacle design; and last week, it was a vine full of diamond fruits, strung around Fiona’s ears decoratively.

Today was one of Fiona’s favorites. It was a skull, nestled inside a blossoming rose. The skull was missing the lower half of its jaw. The petals, thick and lovely, closed around it like cupped hands. It looked a bit rough due to time constraints, but Fiona thought that anything Galatea could make in ten minutes was better than a sixty-hour professional’s masterpiece.

“Oooh. Thank you, Tea. It’s gorgeous!” Fiona was appropriately dazzled.

“Of course it’s gorgeous. I made it.”

Fiona placed the horns on her head. She modeled it for Galatea, feeling like a princess with a new crown. “I think Patricia would try to kill me for this one,” she said. “She loves skulls.”

“Do tell her to see me for the commission she asked for last Friday. I’ll be done with it by tonight.”

“Not if I convince her to go demon-summoning at our sleepover again.”

“You are a demon yourself.”

“See you at the dorm!”

Fiona pranced off with her bookbag.

St. Antonio’s was a massive, sprawling complex with caramel-colored sidewalks and art noveau arches everywhere. Students in white uniforms strode around the courtyard. Like Fiona, several of them were on their way to their next classes. Others who didn’t give a fuck were sitting on the benches, pretending not to make out when the nuns were looking. As Fiona approached the library (which had honest-to-god stained glass windows), its doors swung open, ejecting sleep-deprived teacher’s assistants, priests hiding erotica in their robes, and Fiona’s classmates into the courtyard. 

“Hey, Fiona!” Annie Lester waved her hand.

“Annie! Where’s Victor?”

“He’s cutting class so he can play with his dog.”

“That is so cute.”

"I know!"

A lot of agreeable noises bubbled from their classmates as they shared polaroids of Victor’s bulldog.

On the way to the classroom, they chatted about whether Sister Michiko would actually show up to class or not. There were rumors that she was being dragged into a retreat after her encounter with the terrifying mirror ghost. To ‘cure her soul’ and whatnot, alongside Father Jack and Professor Bi’an and at least two students.

Then, surprise surprise, she did end up showing in the classroom. Sister Michiko was as refreshed and fluttery as she always was, with no signs of any violent enchantments on her person. 

Everyone was happy to see that she was alright.

“I’m so glad to see you all again! Oh, you don’t need to worry about a thing. No mirror demon is stopping me so easily,” Sister Michi gushed, the silver crucifix on her bosom clinking in appreciation. “I’ve just been so excited to give you all that big surprise quiz I was planning! Clear your desks now, my loves!”

Everyone stopped being happy.

***

“The Man in Red was rumored to have been human once,” Professor Orpheus said, fixing the (especially pompous) white jacket he wore today. “A victim of a plague, according to St. Antonio's writings. Though other sources claim that the Man himself was the plague. Either way, his physical manifestation as a 'miracle worker' enticed many cults into following him back in the eighteenth century. That was before the Church of Polun banished him back to Inferno. When that happened, his cults scattered. His influence faded, and his reign became no more.

“But you students know better than to believe that a demon stays banished forever!” Professor Orpheus raised a finger in that stately way he liked. “They will always find ways to claw back to the surface world, searching for human souls to exploit. That is the nature of demons!  Now, Edgar!”

The disgruntled boy stopped doodling on his papers.

“I see you’re one of the few who actually brought the reading to class! Very good. Man in Red, like all other demons, is capable of appearing in places with strong Infernal energy. Can you tell me some of the most telling signs of the Man in Red’s presence—say, if he were in the vicinity of this class at this very moment?”

Edgar Valden sighed and spread his hands in a ‘do I have to?’ motion. “Um, I don’t know. If you can taste his cum in your mouth?”

Annie and Ganji burst out laughing. Ganji tried to cover his with a cough.

“Don’t be so vulgar, Edgar!” Professor Orpheus admonished.

“You shouldn’t be asking me about this. You should be asking Father Jack. After all, he was the one who fucked that demon silly on his mattress.”

“I’m not asking about Father Jack or his mattress, I’m asking about the reading.”

“But we’re applying the reading to real life by asking about an encounter that someone we know has had with the entity,” argued Norton Campbell. He was very good at spouting bullshit like a politician. “If it happened to a teacher, maybe we should figure the details of the incident out, Prof. Like, does the demon fuck?”

“Does he fuck well?” Luca Balsa wondered aloud.

“And does he bottom?”

“No fair. I wanted to ask about Bloody Mary and if she bottoms,” Demi Bourbon huffed.

“I think she does,” someone said.

“I think she doesn’t,” said another.

"Not really."

"Does she?"

"But Sister Michi's nails are shorter—?"

“Here’s what I think….”

The class began to murmur to themselves amid this extremely scholarly discussion. Professor Orpheus had to clap his palms so he could regain their attention.

“Class, class. Let’s stay on topic.”

“But what about Bloody Mary?” Emma Woods complained. “We need to know!”

“If you think about it a certain way, a ghost like Mary probably has a mirror kink,” Vera Nair whispered to Eli in delight. He hid his face behind his book.

“She’s not a ghost,” Professor Orpheus clarified, his ears crimson. “Her malevolent nature classifies her as a demoness now. She attacked Sister Michiko, refused salvation, withstood the convent’s banishment attempts—indeed, she is a demon through and through!”

“Okay, so, does she?” Demi asked.

“Does she what?”

“Does she fuck?”

Professor Orpheus threw his book to the desk. “Does anyone have something real to say about the reading?” he asked in exasperation.

Fiona raised her hand.

“Yes, Fiona?”

“I have a question, Professor. So, the stuff you’ve given us has been pretty detailed on all the entities so far. History and everything,” she said. “But I’d like to ask about the demon in this section right here. Is this really all that the authors can say about her?”

She tapped her thumbnail on the shortest paragraph in the reading. Professor Orpheus walked over to check it out, almost bumping his monocle on Fiona’s horn as he leaned over the paper.

“The Dream Witch?”

“Yes.”

“If I may ask, how did you become interested in this one?”

Fiona shrugged. “She’s the oldest entity, but there’s not so much info about her. I mean, the more a demon ages, the more powerful they can get. So shouldn’t she be something of a concern to the Church if she’s been around for this long? Yet there’s nearly nothing to learn. No info on her influence or how to counter it. Just a background and general gist. Really lacking. I even checked the references cited in the reading itself, didn’t come up with anything new. Hasn’t the Church gotten any records from those mentioned cults of hers?”

“That’s the thing, Fiona. Every human who’s followed her in the past has been devoured.”

“Devoured?”

Professor Orpheus nodded his head. “A great majority of their scriptures were set alight—either by the followers themselves, or by the demoness’s own will. But what was gleaned from the remnants of them was this: their minds, their essence, were all eventually absorbed by her. She took them into her being, so they became a part of her, for all eternity.”

Since most of the class didn’t do the reading, they treated this as new information. Emma made an admiring noise. Luca raised his eyebrows in mild interest.

Demi piped up: “That sounds kinky.”

Annie spewed.

“So…..we don’t know how to summon her?” Fiona asked, her tone betraying disappointment.

“Summon? Why would you want to summon?” Professor Orpheus frowned.

I want to marvel at her presence and possibly go mad with elation. “Oh, um, actually—”

“What Fiona means, Professor,” Patricia cut in primly, “is that the authors of the reading knew the methods for summoning the other entities they wrote about, yet the Dream Witch was an exception. Bit of a curious detail there.”

“Even the Feaster could be summoned,” Edgar said, twisting his pencil in his hand.

“Oh, yes. The Feaster shows up at the school, a couple of times. All of the demons have shown up at St. Antonio’s at least once before, except for the one Fiona’s talking about,” Melly Plinius piped in. “Isn’t the Yellow King also an Infernal relative of the Dream Witch? Does a connection exist between the two of them?”

Eli, from the way he shrunk into his books and papers, had clearly been trying to ignore the discussion. He couldn’t achieve that when his blue eyes kept jumping around the room all frantic. “If we go to the lake, and if we summon him there…..we could ask him how to summon the Witch herself,” he muttered to himself. “We can get the answers to our many questions about her that way. A direct source.”

Fiona perked up. “Oh, Eli, that sounds brilliant!”

He snapped to alertness. “It does?”

“A natural you are, darling!” Luca crowed, reaching behind Vera to shake Eli's shoulder so hard he frayed the threads on his dad sweater. 

The rest of the class started buzzing in anticipation. However, the line of Professor Orpheus's mouth curved further in its downward angle. “Brilliant?” he sputtered.

Everyone quieted down. Eli hid his hands under his lap.

“Um,” Fiona said in a small voice. “Hypothetically, sir. It would just be a solution. A risky one.”

“Hypothetical,” Patricia agreed.

“Not like it’ll actually be done,” Norton assured.

“Mm-hm,” Vera hummed.

Professor Orpheus looked like he was very much thinking favorably of wine bottles today. “Well, it better not be done,” he said. “Because anyone who summons even one demon gets an automatic F in this course from me.”

The class’s silence was one tinged in guilt. The conscience of a sinner in church.

Then Emma asked: “But how else do we get laid?”

Professor Orpheus decided to end the class early.

***

“Eli summoned the Feaster at the lake last night.” Fiona was buzzing as she reported on the juicy gossip.

“Really?” an unimpressed Galatea said. “Is that why Edgar heard a lot of moaning from the forest yesterday?”

“Yes! And he told me what he learned about how to summon the Dream Witch!”

“Great. How?”

“I need your help.”

“What is it this time?”

Fiona passed her a paper. It had the drawing of a tangled star on it. “He said I needed to carve this symbol on my body. It’ll hurt, I know, but I found another way around it. I want you to create a doll out of clay, carve the symbol on it using this—” She held up a mirror shard, “—and then I will curse it so that the doll will be linked to me.”

“Fiona.”

“What?”

“Are you bleeding?”

“Oh.” There were splotches and stains of blood coating the mirror shard. The sharp edges didn’t dig into Fiona’s palm, since she was careful while holding it, but black blood had smudged her fingertips, drying in her nails. “It’s not mine,” she offered. “It’s the mirror’s.”

“The…..hm.” Her ‘hm’ at the end sounded like it was going to become a question, but quit midway into becoming a sigh instead.

“When I broke the mirror in the bathroom, it bled. I waited for Bloody Mary to show up. You know, ‘cuz, I’m always open for demons to show up and scream at me in their wrath or whatever. But nothing happened. The lights did flicker, and it was spooky for a while, ‘til I looked outside and saw the janitor messing with the generator a bit. He said sorry.”

“You look sorrier. For all your efforts in getting this shard, it sounded like you came across a really boring outcome, except for the fact that you broke school property.”

“Guess so.” Fiona lifted the shard. “You know, maybe this is just black slime in the end instead of blood too?” Or something else that’s painfully ordinary to see in a stupid bathroom, she thought. She began to thoroughly confuse herself. Did she see blood, or did she not see blood? Goddamn it.

“It smells like blood. Fresh-from-an-open-wound-blood.” Tea’s nose twitched, bunny-like. “It’s sharp and rusty.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s definitely blood.”

Fiona had indeed held cursed items before, but she always seemed to register them as regular things. She began to wonder if her third eye was sown shut, or her spiritual sense was just smothered so she couldn’t help but experience nothing except an average life. What if she was never meant to lay her eyes on the supernatural?

Now that would have been a lame fate.

“I’ll take your word for it then, Tea.”

Fiona wrapped the mirror shard in gauze. She handed it to Galatea, who accepted it carefully. “How will you curse it?” Galatea asked.

“Usual sympathetic curses. I’ve tweaked them so they would inflict as little harm on me as possible.” It was a myth within the school—that physical pain was important for invoking an Infernal presence. Fiona was always way too pragmatic about her rituals. Her advice about minimizing bloody sacrifices had helped her classmates plenty before, making them maneuver their way around demonic contracts like savvy salesmen. It would be a doozy if it worked for her. If it worked. “Then there’s the rest of the ritual, which I can carry out in private. Eli gave me the words I needed to specifically invoke the Witch. But they’re weird.”

“Weird how?”

“If I’m invoking the presence of only one demon, why did he give me other names to pronounce? Besides that, it mentions something about the opening of a passageway, which is just confusing. I can’t ask him what that’s about though because I just know he’s going to be sick in bed from colds for a while. That boy hangs around the lake so much.”

Fiona waved her hand through the air, not expecting a real answer from her friend. Any curiosities surrounding Eli and his actions just made her grimace at the corner of her mouth, before she pushed through with whatever he did leave, because when that boy decided to be incomprehensible there was little to be done about it.

Galatea looked at her with her big, dark eyes. “If Eli was giving you strange instructions, maybe he was lying about something.”

“Lying?”

“Yes.”

“Eli wouldn’t lie to me.”

Neither of them believed those words. Eh, Fiona gave it a mental shrug.

“Well,” Galatea said, placing the mirror shard in a box, which she locked, “if something goes wrong, if you come back all strange and hurt, I should have Eli Clark tossed into the lake to die.”

“Oh, no need for that.”

“No really. That boy is so annoying. He needs to be obliterated.”

“There ought to be a better way to get rid of him than the lake.”

“I’ll brainstorm about it while you’re gone.”

“Don’t worry.” Fiona smiled. “If it goes well, it’ll all just be a dream. I’ll wake up like I usually do.”

“Can’t count on that. It’s...it’s you, Fio. You’re always performing ritual after ritual, playing around, doing anything to attract a demon’s attention. I get it. But you’ve got to play this one right and get yourself straight into her circle before anything else happens, because those fellows down there, any chance they get to put their claws all over something, they’ll—they’ll…ugh, I don’t know, Fiona, they’re terrible! A bunch of pitiful bastards, you know, they break things, they’re indelicate, they’re unappreciative, they’re loud and hungry and unthinking and they could—ALL of them, seriously, just—” Galatea’s face contorted in an unearthly mask for a moment, shadows pulling at her face like blood dripping from a crown of thorns, and Fiona swore her friend’s throat hissed out curses so Infernal even the worst demon would gawk.

Then Tea’s face resumed its usual porcelain look, her lips pressed tight, though the flower on her head continued to quiver like it was a live thing. “So I’ll let you go through with this one, just like I let you go through with all the other risky stuff you’ve done, if I’m sure you’ll be careful. You do plan to be careful, don’t you?”

Fiona blinked and nodded. “I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” It felt kind of nostalgic to have Galatea worry about a ritual, and for her safety. She hadn’t done that since the start of the sem. “I’ll pinky promise you on that,” she offered.

“I just have one request.”

“What?”

“Wear your horns to sleep.”

Fiona opened her mouth to protest. Closed it. She had fallen asleep wearing her headband several times in the past, whether she was lying down or not. Doing it before an exam sometimes guaranteed that she’d ace it no matter how little sleep she got. Her classmates dubbed it a good luck charm. She dubbed it a great way to wake up with something poking your eye.

No matter how she forecasted the discomfort of wearing it to bed, Fiona said, “I will.”

Galatea gave a looooong sigh. Then she rolled her shoulder, popping that crick in her neck. “Will you need the room to yourself?” she asked.

“If it’s alright.”

“Oh, no problem. I can bunk with Grace.”

“Sounds fun.”

“She’s been inviting me for a sleepover so it's about time I take her up on it. Besides, I don’t want to see you having sex. You look like you’d be a virgin about it.”

Fiona sputtered and blushed. “I’m not having sex right away. I need to get to know her better!”

“Mm-hm. And if you’re lucky she’ll take you out to dinner.”

“Precisely that.”

“Your curse doll will be ready this afternoon. You’ll be making your preparations, so I should move to Grace’s now. Also, here.”

She took something from the satchel by her wheelchair, then reached up, Fiona bowing obligingly so that Galatea could crown her with her own headband. The adornments this morning were crystalline snakes wrapped around the base of the horns. They glimmered in a very pretty manner.

“Good luck,” Galatea wished upon her.

“Thank you.”

The school bell chimed, and it was time to go to class.

***

"Fiona? The bell went off. Are you walking to class with us?"

Fiona groggily roused herself. Margaretha Zelle was leaning over her, hand on her shoulder. Besides the fact that the angle allowed Fiona to peek down her shirt to a pink lacy bra, there was also that pendant of the Three-Faced God's Wheel dangling in front of Fiona's nose. Margaretha wore it everywhere like a nun in training.

"Aren't you a little out of it?" Margaretha giggled, adjusting Fiona's headband for her.

"Was I….moaning in my sleep?" Fiona asked.

"You were. What were you dreaming about?"

"I was being invited somewhere. I can't wait to go. It'll be my dreamland. A heaven made for me."

"Oooh, that does sound amazing. But you know where you should go first?"

"Where?"

A pile of books slammed on top of Fiona's table, startling her to full wakefulness. Martha Behamfil peered down at her with a smirk.

"Class. Go to class first, dream girl. Now let's move before we're late."

"Argh, fine!"

Fiona tailed behind them as they went. Seeing Margaretha admiringly lace her fingers through Martha's only fed into Fiona's impatience more and more, not helped by the fact that this was the slowest day on earth and the evening could not come any faster.

She was wanted somewhere else. A demoness sensed her intentions and was beckoning to her. Whether Fiona would escape her clutches alive or not, she knew, in her fascinated, slightly perverted mind, that it would all be worth it.

***

By the time the ripest hour arrived (finally!), Fiona was just finishing up by lighting some candles and taking her spot on her bed. The candles weren’t required, but they were good for the vibe, and the attractively sweet scent of nightshade gave a taste to the air that made Fiona’s pupils dilate upon inhalation. An old-fashioned way of setting the mood. Hopefully harmless. (?)

The clay doll lay secure in the crib of Fiona’s hands. Professor Orpheus’s scriptures were placed around her. Above her bed, the grinning face on the Holy God's Wheel was upside down.

“Wish me luck,” Fiona whispered to her clay doll.

The clay doll did not answer.

Fiona cupped it to her sternum and fell back into bed. The horns of her headband made it a bit awkward. Thankfully she'd forgone her pillow.

Keeping her hands folded over her doll, she closed her eyes and began to speak into the void.

"Fhagthn, inferna ehtgrah'se.

"Fhagthn, inferna phrg'se.

"Phugnth anh hije'eh ihgnyidt'ay shhun.

"Fhagthn, inferna ehtgrah'se."

Invoke hell.

The chant was absurdly effective. She descended further and further into sleep, eyelids molding shut so it seemed as if she would never wake again, her mind lulled into midnight, fingers going limp in rest, but her tongue continued to move. 

"Yeethorah.

"Yeethorah.

"Yeethorah."

Plunged this deeply into sleep, Fiona found it easier to imagine a nightmarish being. Someone familiar. Or not. She knew her in a dream.

It made her sigh. Her heart rose. "Cainah," she couldn't help but murmur in her affection.

'My love.'

Referring to her demoness with an endearment of evil—soft-spoken evil, sincere, wonderful—wasn't part of the ritual at all. Yet no one minded. Fiona was being sucked farther into her dreams, her soul leaving her body cold. 

The idea of coming close to meet the Dream Witch still flustered her. It made her feel as if her blood could gush in warmth, within the pink of her lips that was sealing itself shut like her eyes.

Her tongue continued to speak in Aklo.

"A hundred April winds disperse in your fragrance,

"A thousand wet Octobers scour your footprints,

"The ruthless years assail the ancient memory of your presence, yet

"Where you walk the hills do not forget.

"I will follow," Fiona's soul made an oath in her sleep. "I will follow. I will find. Find you, forever…."

She was sinking, gently.

Hands long and dark wrapped around her from below. They made her feel welcome. There was hair, coming from somewhere far down in the depths, tendrils and tendrils of them, and they flowed and floated with the grace of an ephemeral gown.

"Will I see you?" Fiona breathed out, looking far above her, to the waking world. "Will we finally meet? Oh, my dearest."

She was about to overflow with ecstasy at how near she was to what she wanted. She was almost there. She was making it.

Then she fell.

"Rude?! "

***

The dream plopped her unceremoniously in darkness, and Fiona began to see just how much Eli set her up to get fucked.

“Hello?” she asked.

There was no beautiful demon lady coming in to greet her.

Instead she dropped down with a scream, falling through a red pit where everything smelled like sulfur and everything sounded like buses of tortured civilians, racing near and far away from Fiona. Columns rose and rose all around her. Their mighty statures made Fiona feel small. Well, since this was a dream, she might as well have been the size of a thumb.

But she felt distressingly alert for a dreamer, which she understood the moment she was ripped from the depths of safe, slow, truly regular dreaming. She dropped to the ground, and splayed there. 

Now, there was no pain, though she had fallen for quite a while.  But the tiles were cold. She lay upon a stained glass floor, bright and pulsing crimson beneath her palms.

Her headpiece had stayed attached to her head, mysteriously. She checked. Yep, still there.

“Okay. Whoever I was with before is surely gone now." Fiona was disgruntled but she tried not to show it. She looked around. "Now, where am I? Ah, yes. Hell." 

Eli, as it turned out, had given her instructions not to summon the Dream Witch, but to go down into literal Inferno to meet her.

…Honestly, what was new.

Whatever. Fiona knew she was invoking hell in her chant for a reason.

She could still hear the screams of agony in the distance. It was sort of an ever-present background noise in this place, no different from wheezing in the wind. Her surroundings were dark—some blasphemous version of a chapel. Why, everything was dark. Except for the windows which glowed red. 

Inferno wasn’t as hot as Fiona thought it would be. Actually the décor was rather nice. Spooky. Nice aesthetic! But still, this was Inferno, and some feeling of horrifying dread permeated every molecule of space here, like she’d been swallowed by a monster and was biding time before digestion. 

“Just a dream. Just here as a soul,” was what she reminded herself, even as she wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

But hey, her classmates summoned demons for recreation. She could do this. Trip to hell, right? Not like any Infernal creatures could come by and flay her dreaming soul.

Then she saw the rose vines appear.

For the first time, in a long while, she thought that it would be great not to be noticed by a demon. Not this one at all. This wasn't even the demon she ordered! Fiona watched anyway as the vines snaked at the foot of the altar. They gathered into a pile of roses. Blooming crimson stuff, all so very pretty. White butterflies flickered among the petals.

“Oh, no,” Fiona said, like her simple disagreement would make the whole thing go away.

This was definitely not a sexy demon lady.

A claw stretched upwards from beneath the roses. Then something crawled out after it, pulling its body with a sound like many cracking bones. The muscles on its shoulders flexed as if it were in pain.

“Um, hi?” Fiona called. “Hi. You’re—not who I’m looking for.”

“Am I not?”

His voice had a handsome but evil aura coming off of it in thick waves. Fiona opened her mouth to respond with a blunt ‘no,’ but the demon’s head snapped back suddenly as black veins burst out of his eye socket. The tendrils coiled over his skin. They flicked around the air like a snake’s tongue tasting. 

When he focused on Fiona, the line of his lips turned up.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Man in Red asked, as calmly as a gent asking a lady if her cab had arrived.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean…..I thought I was with her one moment, but then I wasn't, and then I thought I could meet her again. I'm hoping to,” Fiona answered. She glanced around the room.

Uncomfortably, she saw more shapes moving around the darkness. She just couldn’t tell which from which.

“I can keep you company until she arrives," came Man in Red's offer.

“No thanks. Find your food somewhere else. I came to court a demon, not have my soul devoured.” She neglected to mention that with the Dream Witch, those two things were often one and the same.

A song like falling glass swam through them. A new voice flowered.

“The only thing you’re courting, my girl, is eternal torment!”

Out of broken mirrors emerged a woman wearing a queen’s gown. Once white, the fabric was now dark with blood, dripping all the way down from where her neck was haphazardly stitched to her head. She pointed an accusatory finger at Fiona, pale and black-nailed.

“This harlot! Shattering my mirrors, thinking she can get away with her schoolgirl’s prank?” Her voice boomed like there were three of her talking at once. 

“Bloody Mary! Let’s, um, talk this out,” Fiona offered.

“I’ll make you carve your own throat out and swallow it!"

Fiona stroked her braid, looking back and forth between Man in Red and Bloody Mary. "Can't we negotiate this?"

"No!"

Fiona laughed. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

“Your Majesty, perhaps it would do you well to look somewhere else,” Man in Red said, gesturing with a hand. “I arrived earlier.”

"I have a right to this girl. She has insulted me personally and I have been anticipating the chance to take her soul! I made to arrive earlier."

“Contrivances.”

“A CONTRIVANCE, YOU SAY?” It was here when Bloody Mary’s temper went royally off the hook, causing her own image to break, and break, and break into pieces, forming a shattered figure that made it hard to discern where she started and where she ended. Her own face had cracked into three facsimiles of her.

As if they were under the influence of the Queen herself, the shadows in the chapel began to stir. They formed shapes. Snarling mouths, wicked claws. Some were human-looking. Others were so malformed that they were hard to look at. All of them were demons who wanted a piece of Fiona's soul.

The crowd's attention was both flattering and very, very frightening.

"I saw her falling! Sensed it, in fact!" a fanciful demon with a foxy mask and a foxier grin claimed.

"I wanted to grab hold of her, before the Man in Red did," a red-eyed angel said. "He was not the first!"

"He can't even eat her if he's already bonded to a human at present!"

"In that case, neither can Her Majesty, right? Let me have the morsel, my Queen!"

Bloody Mary's hackles rose. "I am entitled to my snacks!" she roared. 

“This all feels foolish. Surely she’s not that desirable,” hissed a silver-haired man with fangs protruding from his lower jaw. "Even if it has been days since you were barred from feeding on your holy lady, Mary."

"Do not mention that fact to my face! "

Bloody Mary and the silver-haired demon began to snarl at each other in Infernal language. Fiona wanted to attribute it to two lions growling at each other, but she was reminded of two greedy corgis fighting over a dog bone instead. She did not want to be a dog bone. She also didn't like how Bloody Mary was raring to splinter every piece of glass in the room, the more worked up she became. What would happen if she snapped completely? Fiona herself happened to be standing on stained glass. That could turn out to be bad news.

Man in Red's patience seemed to be thinning. "Can we not be civil about this?" he suggested, sounding cool, but his butterflies shriveled while more and more of his roses bloomed. The thorns that sprouted from them were like barbed wire. 

The other demons wished to inch towards Fiona, but Man in Red's thorns warded them back, threatening to crawl over them. 

"Okay, guys, we don't need to rush." Fiona held her hands up as the demons came closer and closer to the altar. Her section of the church was the only part that remained safe for her, but not for long. "I'm sure I'll be back to be tortured by everyone….some other time! How about a rescheduling? Alright? Yeah?"

Bloody Mary screeched something distorted.

"That's cool! Um—I'm just going to see someone else, so if everyone could please…..?"

Her heart was climbing to her throat. She feared that if this went on, the demons would descend and end her for good. Actually, why weren't they invading her space already? Why edge around in apprehension, snapping their teeth and pushing each other to the side instead? Fiona couldn't tell why. 

She had no time to, when the tallest, most eldritch of the demons slithered its way to the front of the crowd. The others let it pass with hunched shoulders and hisses of alarm, which brought up Infernal hierarchy in Fiona's mind, making her wonder what status this demon would have to outrank the rest of its kind within this chapel. It certainly lorded over them in terms of size. A colossal, writhing mess of eyeballs and dark matter, so oppressive it made nearby imps scramble to avoid getting absorbed into the essence of its body. As it drew nearer, it shaped itself (to what Fiona suspected to be for her own benefit) into a tall figure in a hood.

When he took to court, most of the demons quieted. Even Bloody Mary paused in her seething.

“This one,” the demon declared in a great voice, "is invited."

He pointed a clawed, bandaged finger to Fiona. 

"A guest of Inferno. She is not to be devoured. No, not yet. Let her pass."

Bloody Mary hissed. “That does not—!”

“We shall let her pass.” The demon drew himself up to an even more terrifying height. The red of the windows trembled. Demons cowered.

Mary no longer considered objecting. She huffed, pretending not to be cowed. "Fine," she said, and disappeared back into her mirror.

The Man in Red took one look at the hooded figure and did the smart thing. He bowed low in respect, before melting back into his roses. The garden wilted and dried into nothing with his absence.

The other demons retreated to the shadows hurriedly. Soon, it was just Fiona and the hooded figure in the chapel.

She wasn't going to pretend she didn't realize now who he was. The behavior of the demons and the fact that, after much squinting, the hooded figure's robe was meant to emulate the very dark color of old parchment paper, made Fiona recall something she found in Professor Orpheus's reading. Something about the King in Yellow, the Infernal entity related to the Dream Witch. Her voice came out meek as she addressed this fearsome being. 

“Thanks.”

The hooded figure did not appear moved. 

So far, Fiona wasn't as scared of what he was so much as she was apprehensive of why he'd appeared. What that could mean.

She mentally replayed the words he said. 

'Yet.' 

'We will not devour her yet.'

So when will I be devoured? Is there a specific time? And will it interfere with next week’s Lit exam?

“Can you….take me to her?”

“I will.” His voice rumbled around the chapel.

He offered his claw.

“I’ll, um, just follow. If you don’t mind.”

The King in Yellow actually chuckled at this. “This way.”

They walked in what felt like true dream-appropriate darkness until Fiona felt snow crunch under her feet. In contrast, the place seemed to become warmer. More comfortably so at least—for hell.

"Where is she?"

"She is here. She is everywhere. In this domain, you are hers. And perhaps you may not escape until she allows it."

Then he disappeared.

That was when Fiona became aware of the large shadow behind her. She looked, but immediately, the pain of the demoness's presence became an unholy gravity. It bore down on her with harshness. She should turn her head away for safety. Close her eyes.

Fiona steadied on and gazed straight before her, no matter how her very sanity protested.

The figure was too much. Fiona couldn't tell her exact size because she was just so immense that she encapsulated the entire dome. The fog vibrated around her. 

The voice that spoke rang prevalently in Fiona’s head. Her thoughts collapsed for the seconds she spent processing those words.

"Does this frighten you?"

It was a whisper. A hiss. An invitation.

It took all of Fiona's willpower to respond. "No," she said, but she wavered. The uncertainty made her vision swim.

"No? "

The air became harsh. The silhouette of the Dream Witch seemed to expand everywhere, flaring out in all directions.

Fiona's brain was boiling into mush.

A laugh of amusement. "Shall I ask again?" The hisses had magnified ten or thirty times. It was inside Fiona's skull, hollowing it whenever the Witch wanted to speak—like she was losing her identity and getting it back in intervals.

"Does this frighten you?"

"Yes," Fiona gasped. Her lungs were closing up but she persisted. "Yes!"

Then she could breathe again.

She was just a soul, here in this dream world, but she was left shaking as if she'd finished a marathon. That was terrifying. Her heart was still pounding in her ears. The way the voices had robbed her own thoughts from her had left her feeling violated. 

However….she was not exhausted. In fact, she realized with great fluster and enthrallment that she had liked the experience.

Oh dear. This must be what it really meant. This was what her dreams must have been leading to.

"We've never formally introduced ourselves. But I suppose you know me."

This time, the Witch spoke almost normally, if the ominous echoes and the unearthly tenor could pass for it (compared to her previous tactic of 'I wish to communicate one word with you = I wipe your entire mind blank for two seconds '). Fiona saw the demon descending to her level. The Dream Witch had materialized into an appearance that Fiona, as a human, could more easily perceive, though she remained undoubtedly an Infernal creature in the sense Fiona was never quite sure what the concrete details of her were. The Witch took the form of a beautiful, effeminate being, moon pale in some parts and obsidian at the others. She shifted constantly like scales under light. Perhaps there were scales on her body, which would explain how strange her motions were, since she was moving so smoothly she would have hypnotized someone with a mere approach.

Above all was the fact that she was not a separate body from her domain at all. The night, snow, raindrops, sands, darkness—just like her, they were in colors of glimmering black and silvery pale—clung to the Witch as if she remained a part of the world around them. When she moved, it moved. Sea waves crested when her hair flowed. The volcanic sand slithered too as she slithered across.

It was enchanting just to watch her.

The Dream Witch loomed in front of Fiona. It was like having an entire planet right up in your face.

"I do," Fiona said in awe. "I know you. You're the woman from my dreams."

"Those dreams are hardly anything anymore. I've devoured them. They only leave fragments of their sweetness in your soul. That is why you remember, but also, forget."

"They leave me yearning."

"Yearning?"

The Dream Witch circled Fiona in curiosity. The rough slide of scales brushed against bare legs, to contrast the sand and snow that were soft around Fiona's ankles. Despite recent events, for some reason Fiona felt safe in the midst of her.

"I-it was what made me decide to come here. I wanted to see you again. You told me to find you, didn't you?" Fiona asked, turning bright eyes to the Witch over her shoulder.

"I did."

"Are you surprised I made it? Hell was no walk in the park, you know."

"I'm glad you've come to me."

The Dream Witch cupped Fiona's face with both hands.

"So I can devour this dream, and your yearning, your entire heart. It will be the sweetest flavor out of everything I’ve taken from you. The sweetest, and the last."

"O-ohh, yeah—wait, hold on!"

Fiona's call came only a second before she could stop what was about to happen, which was the Dream Witch opening her mouth wide for a meal. There were sharp teeth in her maw, a long tongue, and a black, black hole, pulling at her life force.

"You can't eat me!"

Dream Witch's head reverted to its more personable facade. "Hm? Why not?"

Fiona debated with herself for a moment. 

It did sound kind of hot to be devoured by the Witch. At the same time, she wanted to wake up at the end of this and return to her room in the morning. She still had things to do.

"I have….a project due tomorrow evening. Haven't submitted it yet."

The whole domain stood still.

"A project," the Witch repeated.

"Yes."

A few seconds passed. Three. Four. Fiona was shifting with the discomfort of a date who worried she'd said the wrong thing.

Then the Witch threw back her head, and Fiona felt more than heard her laughter. It was deep and tinny at the same time and vibrated like a growl that could be felt in one's bones. The sound shook the whole domain, knocking Fiona off-balance.

She fell, but did not hit the ground. The Witch's tail caught her. Moreover it was raising itself up, elevating Fiona to a seated position that brought her into eye-level with the demoness. 

Dream Witch had mirth on her face as she gazed at Fiona. The girl actually registered dark lips forming a smile. "Hmm. It's not like I was serious about eating you, anyway," she said. Fiona didn't know whether that was a truth or a lie. If the Witch wanted honest fright from Fiona, why go for it twice when once was enough? "You're expected back on earth it seems. This visit truly will be temporary."

"And….regular? Hopefully?"

"You would be lucky." Dream Witch tilted Fiona's chin up. She read her, searching for something that Fiona couldn't figure out. "I see. Such shameless want in a human!"

"O-oh. Shameless?" Fiona flushed.

"What is the use with being shy? You came all the way down here. You wanted something."

The demoness pressed flush against her, claws on the small of Fiona's back, ocean waves of body and dress thrumming against Fiona's torso like a pulse.

The nails on the demoness's free hand trailed along Fiona's jaw. "Tell me what it is you desire," Dream Witch cooed, "my dear."

Fiona gulped. She was getting dangerously excited.

"I want you," she whispered. "Please."

"So you shall have me."

Her lips were parted and the Witch's tongue was branding itself on hers.

The Witch swallowed Fiona's gasps, more interested in snaking her long tongue down her throat and laving what Fiona thought might be symbols on her own small, pink human tongue. A demon is kissing me. I've made it in life, Fiona thought giddily as she wound her arms around her hellish lover's neck. She tasted, no, experienced the velvet curse monopolizing her breath now. Less like a taste and more like an injection of feeling. It dripped coarse into her chest. Her bosom heaved.

The Witch pulled away with a string of shimmering saliva connecting them. Fiona was left needy. She tried to chase the toxic goodness, her mouth missing the taste.

"Yi̸dhra," she moaned.

"Yes, my love." Yidhra seemed to coil more tightly around Fiona. "Call me that."

"Yidhra̵. Y̶i̸d̸hr̶a…." Fiona's eyelashes fluttered as Yidhra dipped down to drag her teeth along her neck. The Witch's hair floating behind her made Fiona feel as though she were being surrounded by serene waves.

Yidhra didn't need to bite to actually leave marks. Wherever her sharp teeth grazed even the slightest bit, pain and possessive pleasure blossomed, as if Yidhra were holding herself back from ravaging Fiona irreparably. Fiona was caught between being appreciative of the effort, and disappointed that she wasn't discovering the full extent of the Witch's power (sanity and soul notwithstanding). For now, the tantalizing pressure on her skin, the knowledge, the thought of it being almost there but not quite, was arousing enough.

If bruises formed from the demoness's teeth, Fiona did not mind.

The soft palms of Yidhra's hands, which were the parts devoid of claws, smoothed down from Fiona's shoulders and down to her chest and waist. They wrapped around the flesh in a manner akin to worship. Fiona had never paid attention to whether her dreaming self was wearing clothes or not in Inferno. It didn't matter if she was a soul.

What did matter was how Yidhra grinned at Fiona's body with all the enthusiasm of someone anticipating a good meal. "You are so sweet." As Yidhra spoke, her voice began to worm its way into Fiona's mind, seemingly reverberating in her blood. It made her shiver. "You would be so, so easy to bite, to break. And drink….what a flavor."

Yidhra gripped Fiona's back with one aggressive arm. With the other, she reached between Fiona's legs.

"Ah!" Fiona trembled as she was openly, wetly rubbed. No inhibitions. Just rough behavior.

Two long, long fingers moved up and down her clit, stimulating her.

"Won't you stay still?" Yidhra pretended displeasure at Fiona's squirming.

"My lady, y-you're moving your hand so much," Fiona gasped. She gripped where she could see Yidhra forming a wrist. It felt like heavy black scales under her palm, but the hand touching her was so soft. It gathered the precum between her folds and rubbed it all over the sensitive skin and Fiona sobbed.

"Adorable." Yidhra licked her cheek. A lazy predator. "Getting comfy, lovely one?"

Fiona tried a smile. She could only swallow and shake as those fingers continued to pleasure her. How to tell a terrifying demoness that she 'made decent love the way only a lady would know how' ? By Fiona's standards, she was having a good time, sure. Yet it wasn't really something she had not read in Pat's horror-romance books, or in Eli's personal diary. Everything was better than she expected—for an appetizer. She wondered what the main course would be like.

Yidhra seemed to read her mind.

Of course she did. Fiona was in her territory. As long as she was in her domain, even Fiona's thoughts were unsafe.

Claws dug into Fiona's waist and dragged up to her lower back. Fiona released a few stuttering breaths.

"What if I want you to stay still?" Yidhra asked directly in her brain.

The volume of the purr in her skull made Fiona go still for a moment. "S-sorry?"

"Do not move. Do not make a noise."

OR̶̛͎ EL̶̻̚SE, came a chorus of voices from the shadows of Fiona's mind. All of it Yidhra.

"Can you do that?" The Witch asked for an impossible bargain.

Before Fiona could respond, the fingers returned brutally, pressing and fondling her clit without care, making her slicker by the second. They only needed to rub all over her hole (not penetrating, just smearing all over the wetness) and then return their attention to her clit with inhuman precision. Fiona gnawed at her lower lip and did her best not to move. She had never been through such a difficult trial in her life. Her thighs shook. Her head tilted. So good, it was so good, she couldn’t breathe.

The climax approached impolitely, and impolitely Fiona received it with a crash of her body, her heart escaping. She managed the 'quiet' part with a few soundless gasps, cheeks blossoming hot. The 'staying still' bit, not as well. Her hips had to thrust up into the air as she writhed, for it was not a subpar finish, not one she'd simply finagled with her own hand in a secret room, or through a barrier of clothing—that would've made things easier to hide. This crest of pleasure was drawn forcefully out of her by a demon.

That made it ten times better and ten times worse.

She could not hide it.

"What a shame. I told you to keep still."

Yidhra had been introducing her into her power, Fiona realized. She began in a form that was sort of anthropomorphic. Recognizable to a human, Fiona guessed, with hair and a dress and two arms, but as more of her voices throbbed in Fiona's veins, the awareness that Yidhra was everywhere and not just in one place in front of her became starker and starker, until it pierced bright to the moon.

Sharp teeth closed around Fiona's neck, and impossibly, at the same time, around her inner thigh, her wrist, her waist, as if Yidhra had sprouted several mouths that Fiona could not see. Fiona struggled. She feared she was going to drown in teeth. And—oh, tongues. Soft and slippery and eager to taste.

Claws dug into Fiona's hips and also gripped her ankles and wrists in place. She’d been bound. She could not move.

If you asked her what she could see, she wouldn't know what to respond. Frankly she could not see anything at all. Her eyes were dilating in eternal darkness, as if lust had poured dark poison into her pupils and she could never retrieve her sight again.

Maybe that was a mercy. If she could see, she had a feeling she would go mad for real.

She wanted to. Quite badly. She was going mad, already, so she could just be on the way to the complete opposite of salvation, as she felt more and more of Yidhra's essence pour into her like starry wine for blood.

Yidhra slithered and coiled all around her body. Fragile little Fiona was wrapped in the Witch's embrace.

She felt like she could suffocate in there.

Lips mouthed at her breasts and fondled them. A scaly limb wrapped around her throat and squeezed, the choking gentle, covetous. A tongue snaked its way between her forcibly parted legs. The Witch drank Fiona in that way, tongue reaching deep inside her, weaving within her body in an unbelievable manner. Claws that felt longer and sharper dragged lines along Fiona's hips to tug her down and offer her no escape. Fiona could not scream, because Yidhra was sucking the soul out of her from her mouth too, taking her voice, baring more of her neck. The Witch made sure she stayed helpless.

And helpless Fiona stayed, because she could not stay still once.

She was whimpering when the tongue slid out to deftly suck at her sensitive clit. Fiona tensed right away and was not allowed to cry out, not even as she trembled through another orgasm. Her hands clenched at nothing. That terrible tongue continued sucking from the fruit.

"Yidhra…." Fiona sobbed, as her legs were pushed up and then the mouth that was focusing there moved further down to her taint. "Ah! "

You can do it, Yidhra said with gleeful unconcern. The problem was that she spoke right against Fiona's ribcage, disturbingly close to her soul's beating heart, so the thrum purred inside there.

So unfair that Fiona made herself deal with the cruelest demoness in all of Inferno. Arousal returned its dark reprise for this poor human.

What sweet joy.

Yidhra accosted her from nearly every angle at this point except for her mouth. Fiona was free to whine, from all the devouring and the savoring and the general feel that her mind was about to just break from bliss.

Fiona swallowed. "Yidhra, please indulge me," she begged. Her lips felt so empty when she was allowed to speak. The rest of her, on the other hand, was so very busy that she could barely move except when she was controlled to do so.

She heard laughter in her brain and heart.

"Does the human want a kiss?" Yidhra teased, sounding mockingly normal this time.

"I'm sorry." Fiona drew in a keen when she felt Yidhra lick her neck up to her ear. Palms clutched her breasts and made her arch her back. "Is that too sentimental? I like your kisses."

"Of course you do."

A breath passed on top of Fiona's lips, but no kiss.

"You're driven insane with want for me," Yidhra crooned.

"I still want a kiss."

"Of course," Yidhra said again, and again, did not deliver—instead she clamped the pressure all around Fiona, into Fiona, forcing her way deep inside, until Fiona was crying out and then coming for the third time that night.

Inhibitions spiked from her climax, Fiona grabbed in front of her like she should grab a lover. Yidhra might not let Fiona even get a firm grip. The Witch could disappear and reappear anywhere she wanted, be everywhere except where Fiona wanted her to be—she could tease the girl for eternity, but Fiona didn't care. She wanted something and she should have it.

She did.

Shoulders. Flowing hair under her hands. Scales. Fiona took hold of the Witch who somehow became one body again under her touch. She had a feeling the both of them were surprised by this.

Fiona wasted no time and dove for the Witch's lips. It was the first kiss the human had initiated. So Fiona kissed her like a human too, smothering her, doing her own version of a devourer, before parting their lips together. Fiona's tongue could barely fill the void. She felt she was almost cute in comparison to Yidhra in this kiss. Regardless, with enthusiasm fueled by her climax, she licked those manifested rows of sharp teeth (there were more and more of them as she explored, as if a tangibly eldritch mouth was forming into existence just as Fiona willed for it) and sucked on the demonic tongue that had tasted her down below.

Then Fiona pulled back with a breath. She opened her eyes, realizing she could see now.

Yidhra's perceivable form had returned—dress and ocean waves and singular pair of claws rather than eight of them. Fiona caught her breath. Wait, she could breathe now. What was she doing before, then? Was that some simile of breathing that her near-asphyxiated mind had conjured up?

Fiona also found that she had been straddling the Dream Witch, who appeared amused by their position.

"Interesting," the Dream Witch murmured. Fiona was glad to hear her pleased.

Yidhra moved over to press a benign kiss at the base of Fiona's neck.

"Dawn will break soon," Yidhra said.

Fiona pouted. "Already?"

"Mm."

"When can I come back?"

Yidhra chuckled. "After you submit your project, I suppose."

That got Fiona laughing too. She wrapped her arms around Yidhra's shoulders for another kiss. "It's not that difficult of a project. I'm sure I'll be back very soon."

"And what if you find that more and more of your human essence shreds as you spend time here with me? Just tonight, you have lost an irretrievable part of your soul, you know. Your protection can't cover all of you always. At the very least…." Yidhra licked her lips. "It was nourishing."

Fiona blushed. She could feed Yidhra all of her soul if she could.

"What protection?" she chose to demand.

"Ah, you'll have to ask your friend. But the next time we meet, you do not have to bother with those lesser demons again. I will come and get you."

"That sounds nice," Fiona sighed as Yidhra nuzzled her.

"Now you should return," Yidhra said. "I am elated to have given you a sweet dream tonight."

"And many more nights to come?"

"That is what we hope. Goodnight, Fiona."

Yidhra kissed her again, the taste of her name between human lips and inconceivable maw, and Fiona's soul returned to where it was due.

***

"I went to hell and made love to a demon!"

"That's nice," Margaretha said. 

Then she squeaked, startling Martha where she slept on her girlfriend's lap. "Wait, what?" she exclaimed.

"I fucked the Dream Witch!"

"You did not!" Emma gasped happily.

"No!" Annie cried out in more horror.

"Yes!"

Ganji, in the background, yelled: "Stop fucking demons!" before Norton smacked him upside the head to remind him that Fiona was (had been) a virgin loser until then and thus deserved to be congratulated.

"Well?" Edgar snapped at Fiona. "You can't just say something like that without any context!"

"How did it go?" Vera piped in.

"Was she any good?" Demi asked eagerly.

"And did it hurt?" Eli asked.

"Oh, she didn't—on that part, it was…..honestly…..uh……..she sometimes did things that I, my brain……..um?"

Eli smiled, reaching out to clasp Fiona's hand in camaraderie. "As long as you returned safely," he said.

"My mind's not going to turn into soup the more she scrambles it during sexy times, right?"

"Is that not the point?"

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Should I start putting on some sort of protection on my brain the next time I make love with the Dream Witch? I don't want to tell her to stop devouring my dreams and draining me of my sanity like wine from a glass—I love it too much when she does that. At the same time, I don't want to turn into a vegetable in my late twenties if we keep going at it like this. What do you think?"

On the other side of the screen, in the same confession booth, Father Jack paused delicately before his silhouette could murmur, "Is that all for your confession, my child?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Well then, I think your soul is damned for eternity and no amount of penance will save you," the priest advised.

"Okay."

"On another note, let's discuss relationships."

"Okay?"

"This imbalance of power, it's pitying. Not ideal, no no. How about this: what if you were the one to choose the locations for your next meetings, rather than the other way around? Not everything has to happen in Inferno."

"You mean….I can bring her here?! To have sex in my world? My bed? Do you really think I could do that to a demon?"

"Yes," Father Jack said. "It will be funny."

"But dangerous. Be careful!" Sister Michiko said, shaking her head. "Make the best preparations for your dates to make sure it is safe and responsible. Oh, but the Dream Witch, really….you couldn't have picked a safer demon to woo, my girl? I could introduce you to some benign ones if you like."

"That's okay, Sister. What do you mean by 'preparations'?"

"If you insist on having her walk the earth…..she will need a physical host. So she can exist on this world and you can do whatever you want with her. You can put her in…..say, a mirror, or a painting, or even a body of water. Be warned: the more powerful the demon, the harder it will be to ensure she stays contained in that host, so she can even tear her vessel apart herself if she wants to get to you that badly—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know all about demons taking hosts."

"No, you do not." Galatea scowled.

"But I do," Fiona whined.

"The Witch is different. Too strong. I can't protect you if she's here."

"Oh, so you were protecting me!" Fiona joyfully held on to her horns, which she'd slept with on the night she met and became familiar with the demoness of her dreams. "You gave me an enchanted headband so my soul could be safe while getting fucked in Inferno. You're the most supportive friend ever!"

Galatea rolled her eyes. "Yes, maybe I was tired of you complaining about being a virgin. There! Now you got a demon girlfriend. But I don't want to see her here on earth. She will be too much to contain."

"I can handle it. She'll behave."

"Will she?"

"I'll make her."

Galatea pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, wow," she muttered.

"Yeah."

"Not like she might bring on a mild armageddon if she ever breaks the surface of Inferno in her true form just to grab your ass. If you turn out to be an actual apocalyptic maiden, Fiona, I will never invite you to girls' night ever again."

"Come on, Tea! I have all the resources I need. It'll be fine!"

"You are so selfish. You want to endanger humanity because you wish someone would eat you out spread-eagled on a sacrificial table?"

"She's not just someone," Fiona said dreamily. "She's the love of my life!"

"You can only remember one night with her!"

"Alright," Fiona huffed. "Then I'll get to know her better. I'll know her better than any human has ever known the Dream Witch! After that, I'll decide if I want to end the world for her."

"You've provoked her enough that I won't be surprised if she got herself a host already and took steps without telling you. You are sick. But fine! If I sense that something is up, I will go to hell with you. Literal and figurative. And you will hate having me as a chaperone on your date."

Galatea may have been a decent wingwoman, but as a chaperone? No thanks. "Is that a threat?" Fiona asked.

"It's a promise."

No use avoiding it. "Okay, okay! Just don't embarrass me."

"Now that, I won't promise."

In the end, the absurdity and successful nature of Fiona's entire plan made her blurt out, despite everything, a frustrated-slash-joyful "I love you!" to Galatea, one of the most tolerant roommates that Fiona had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"I love you too. Now shut the fuck up and let's get to class."

Fiona walked Galatea to Professor Desaulniers's class before waving goodbye and proceeding to her own section. She was in a splendid mood these days. It helped that most of the students whispered in awe (and fear) whenever she passed by. Word of ex-virgin-loser Fiona's achievements in Inferno had spread fast.

A bit too fast.

"Fiona." Professor Orpheus stopped speaking to his companion teacher the moment he saw Fiona enter the classroom. "Good that you've decided to join us today."

Fiona paused. "Sir?"

"I've been hearing many interesting things about you."

Eli, who walked through the door after Fiona, ducked past her real quick. He only offered a pat of good luck on her shoulder as he passed.

Ditto Norton, then Patricia.

Those bitches.

"You realize the gravity of your actions, right?”

Fiona faced the teacher awkwardly. “Ah….”

“These are not some light rumors to take, especially when you seem to be doing nothing about it!" Professor Orpheus barked. "Messing with the unholy goes against the principles of this school! What are you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but…."

Denial was Fiona's go-to idea. This wasn't the first time a student had been threatened with expulsion or probation or some other ominous disciplinary action that rhymed. Neither was it the first time that a whole class conspired to back a targeted student up. They could casually gaslight the teacher into disbelieving everything he knew about the case that way. That was how it went the first time a faculty member suspected Eli of going on lakeside dates with a monstrous demon.

However, before Fiona could even start with the mind games, Professor Orpheus sighed and crossed his arms, looking wearier than Fiona had ever seen him. "Infernal matters are nothing to play around with. Take it from me," he said, in the tone of someone dishing out a reprimand rather than a devastating university-appropriate penalty for sin.

"Sir?"

What do you mean 'take it from you'?!?! Hello???

"I'm afraid I can't stay long enough to properly tell you off for it. I'm overdue for the faculty ritual. You'll have to excuse me." He sounded displeased about having to be excused.

Needless to say that Fiona was dumbfounded. "Sir…?" she just repeated.

"In the meantime, I will leave this class in the hands of a substitute—Professor Yi. I've warned her to keep a specific eye on you."

All that trouble Fiona bragged about going through hell for, and the worst she got for it was a 'specific eye on her'? Fiona would have put up a fit despite her better judgment—what if the rumors were getting watered down, if Professor Orpheus thought that this dry-ass punishment would suit Fiona’s sin?—but her complaints shriveled up when she noticed Professor Orpheus’s companion teacher for the first time.

As in, really noticed her. Some powerful illusion made humans like Fiona just glance over this teacher as if she were completely ordinary and could disappear into the background. At first look, she was indeed nothing noteworthy. Until she wasn't. 

The woman stood a few inches taller than Professor Orpheus thanks to her business heels. She had dark hair, wavy and long. Her neck was slender. Her smile was simple. But Fiona realized how difficult it was to figure out the appearance of the teacher's eyes. Automatically her gaze just drifted to the teacher's mouth.

When she tried to move her stare up again, her mind strained from the effort, sanity fluttering in her heart. 

It would merely be safe for her not to look.

She looked.

Violent memories lashed at her soul, plunging her into the voids-for-skull-sockets that the woman's face bore for a brief and terrible second. The abyss should have crushed Fiona's mind on the spot.

But other memories, of pleasure and pain and dark promises, surfaced soon after.

And, eventually….

So did she.

Fiona came back to Professor Orpheus's classroom with a drumbeat thudding between her ears.

"—if you can understand?" Professor Orpheus was saying.

Fiona blinked at him repeatedly, clearing static like sand from her eyes. "Oh, sure," she replied.

Professor Orpheus huffed and turned to Professor Yi. "Best of luck then, Professor. I'll be back by the end of the week."

He did not wait for her answer before leaving.

Fiona faced Professor Yi, consumed by the sudden need to keep herself from unraveling all over the floor like an embarrassing human. "Oh. Ah. Professor. That’s what I should call you now, shouldn't I? It's...so nice to have you here," she gushed, holding her bag to her chest.

"I am glad to be here. What an adorable campus." Professor Yi sounded utterly mundane. Fiona was drawn to her like a magnet regardless.

"It sure is a nice place, if you ignore the Haunted Locations To Avoid list on some of those tabloid sites."

"Invigorating. I see why my relative likes to visit." She tilted her head, gaze focusing on Fiona wholeheartedly. "The sights are certainly something."

"W-why'd you choose to teach?" Fiona tucked hair behind her ear.

"Anyone who chooses the form of a student should simply go ahead and get to hell first. Saves one the delay before the torture."

"Hey, my best friend is a student!”

"By choice?" the professor asked.

"Oh, I never asked her that…"

"You should."

"I-if it isn't too terribly forward of me—because, well, you're my teacher and all and it could be weird, but, er, would you like to…." Fiona blushed. "Maybe get something to eat later? I want to get to know you more, if you're going to be around here often."

"Something to eat," the professor echoed in a subtle languish that had Fiona gripping her bag too tightly. 

"I know a good place just around the school. Barely anyone there. It will be a nice spot, if you would be cool with trying the tea."

"With a lady like you, that would be divine."

"Yes. Yes it would!"

"Mm. I accept. But for now, we must have class."

"Right! Yes! Sorry." Fiona bowed her head a bit but couldn't fight the smile. Neither could her substitute professor.

Fiona hurried back to her seat. Her friends were giving her odd looks (Eli had a curious smile and Vera's eyebrow was permanently arched), but she did not mind.

Oh no. Not one bit.

Professor Yi clapped her hands twice sharply, forcing silence into the room.

"Good afternoon, my dears." The teacher smiled satisfactorily at everyone as if they were morsels on her plate. The Holy Three-Faced God's Wheel above her head pointed down toward hell—toward her. "Shall we begin?"