Erotic Desires

Demon of Lust (part 9)

My father's dream envelops me like a tomb, it's darkness oppressing and tightening around my shoulders. This is what he feels, I realise, as I watch him pace. His footsteps pound in my ears; they are deafening in the darkness. I hear his desperation as he calls out my name and feel his frustration when I do not answer.

Choking on his pain, my throat closes against my tears. I want so desperately to run into his arms and assure him of my safety, but Asmodeus holds me to his side.

"Wait," he says, "we must ease is path to you. He will not believe you are as you say you are."

"Why not?" I croak, the corners of my eyes pricking.

Asmodeus looks down at me, his face displaying a profound sadness.

"He dreams of you every night, my sweet. Every night, you return to him only to disappear when he wakes. He is beginning to lose hope."

"No!" I gasp, face crumpling in anguish.

I want my family to move on, to live their lives without me, not to mourn me so sickeningly. The reality is heart-wrenching. My knees buckle under the weight of mine and my father's pain.

Asmodeus steadies me, holding me as I attempt to regulate my breathing. I dig my nails into his biceps, letting him hold me tight as I fight off a panic attack. All the while, my father continues his frantic calls. Every echo of his voice is a knife in my heart.

"Calm yourself, my love. You may go to him when you are in control of your emotions."

Still clinging to my lover, I draw in one shuddering deep breath after another, letting the air fill my lungs completely and feeling my heart slow its frantic thumping. It takes every iota of focus I possess to relax my screaming muscles. I shut out my father's calls and completely release one final breath. My tears dry as I do so and I look up to see Asmodeus watching me approvingly.

"Yes," he says, "Very good."

"Now what?" I ask, voice shaking slightly.

"Now you turn that focus of yours into energy and will your appearance to change. Become Rowan again and speak to your father as her. Convince him."

I don't question him. For once, I let him direct me completely, without hesitation, following every instruction to the letter. I try to wrap my head around the power of will. I'd always believed it to be a powerful thing; a practice which could help the willing achieve anything they put their mind to. Listening to Asmodeus' stories and learning that his shape – along with that of all the immortals – is directly influenced by nothing but the will of the human collective, gives me a boost of confidence.

I close my eyes and focus everything I have, everything I am, into becoming a stranger again. I picture the pigment in my skin bleaching, like a shirt left too long in the sun. I focus on lightening my hair and eyes, picturing hay-bales and emeralds replacing black silk and dark coffee. I demonstrate the sheer power of my will, the near tangible thing which makes me strong. The rush of adrenaline I feel when my skin prickles with the change, brings with it a giddy pride. I open my eyes to find Asmodeus beaming me a devastating smile and for once, I feel worthy of him. I am strong, a fitting Queen to his all powerful King.

He tilts his head towards my father and I step forward without hesitation. This realisation that I am stronger than I thought has me eager to face my challenges head on, like a patriotic soldier, absolutely positive she is fighting for a just cause. I will win, not just for me but for my family too. I owe them a chance to say goodbye.

"Lena!" My father's voice cracks as he calls out for me, yet again. "Where are you, my baby?"

That question is quiet, broken, and a prickling of fear races up my spine. He's about to give up, I realise.