By R. Moses
Copyright 2013 by R. Moses
This is a work of fiction, and all names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As Valena feigned sleep in a stranger's bed, she swore that this was the last time she would draw a demon. The incubus she was drawing haunted one of the most respected ladies in the inner quarter, and Valena had been sent by the church to finish it off.
That is, of course, if it did not get her first.
Her muscles were tense and trembling, every one of her nerves wound tight. Demon drawing was finicky business, and the stupid old biddy who had summoned the incubus had realized too late that bringing a demon from the pit was not worth the fleeting carnal thrill. When one dealt with demons, shivers of thrill quickly became squeals of animal terror.
Valena shook, lying under covers that smelled faintly of lemons and age, preparing to risk her life to bind yet another incubus. As she fingered her vial of holy water, she cursed the idiots who had summoned this plague of fiends by opening the way to Hell. She rubbed her other palm against the worn handle of the sacred knife, reassuring herself that it was still there, sharp and deadly, the only lasting defense against an otherworldly attack. She searched both holy items for a tickle of divinity, but found nothing. She reached under the bed and rooted in her satchel, finding the hard and reassuring edge of the binding collar that was hidden there.