Ana could do nothing but watch with a sense of overwhelming dread as Jordan fell under Lilith’s demonic influence. She could feel more than see how Jordan’s mind succumbed to the ever-present resonance of demonic energy that permeated the entire town. It was shocking how quickly it had happened. Now Jordan was gone, and the resonance in her blood controlled her. As the young black woman started walking mindlessly towards its source, she was falling deeper and deeper into its gravity well like a comet.

If Ana didn’t stop her in time, she would burn up.

Ana followed close behind, her magic veil again shielding her from the eyes of mortals. She felt that her connection to the cosmic energies was nearly drained. It felt like being physically exhausted, except in the space around her body.

Jordan walked like a somnambulist, following an unseen force, never averting her gaze, never turning. Ana followed her as close as she dared, out the dorms, off campus, through the ordinary and seemingly peaceful town. For a moment it looked as if she was heading for the library, but she walked straight past it, out of the town center and towards the suburbs.

Following her was somehow worse than fighting the demons had been. On every corner, Ana suspected something to happen. Behind every hedge and tree, she expected one of the disgusting demon centipedes to pounce. The chill autumn air was beginning to bite her face, and her feet had long since gone numb—she was still in her socks.

But despite her hammering pulse and her aching feet and her prickling neck, everything went disturbingly peacefully. Jordan’s steps in front of her rustled through colorful fallen leaves, and the air smelled sweetly of earth. Again, Ana had to think about how it was all a lie—how the piece was nothing but an illusion. Where they were going, death awaited them.

It took Jordan almost forty minutes to arrive at the outskirts of a residential neighborhood. They passed some small grocery stores, a post office, and a barber shop. If they went much further, the sidewalks would end. Ana didn’t look forward to walking through a ditch without shoes. But before she had much time to add that small worry to the giant heap of problems she was facing, Jordan took a sudden turn at the corner into a side street ahead of her.

Ana felt the subtle throb around her neck increasing in intensity. The horn of a demon, possessed by a power so ancient that it preceded all known writings. She wished that she had spent more time studying it instead of avoiding the disturbing sense of evil and dread that always followed it. She had always thought of her Brothers and sisters as the ones who would have to use the Amulets if the time came. After all, she was a Scholar, not a Mage or Warrior. Surely, she wouldn’t be the one who had to face Lilith’s servants.

She silently cursed, and increased her pace to follow. Her heart was racing now. She was running head-first into the lion’s den. Where were the rest of her Order? When were they finally going to arrive to help her? She wasn’t supposed to be alone in this! It had been almost twenty hours. Where were they?!

She felt small and powerless and very afraid.

But she had faced it before—and somehow she had won the battle, if not the war; with the blade of her grandfather she had cut the demons and they had bled just like any man—before they had shrivelled and turned to dust. It seemed that even her Scholar’s blessing was enough to give her a fighting chance.

She prayed that her luck would hold.

A short way ahead of her, Jordan seemed to have arrived at a small bungalow. It had a parking lot in front and a sign that read

‘Lawrence Ericsson, M.D. PP,

Office hours: MO-FR 9am-3pm’

The amulet around her neck was whispering unmistakably now; this had to be the place. This didn’t look like it should be, however. It looked like it had been built in the seventies. In Ana’s mind, a demonic sanctum should be in a place of history—a place of significance. But now that she thought about it, she could not remember ever reading about such a requirement. This had to be it, then. A demonic sanctum in an unremarkable office building. She wondered what else she had been assuming without realizing it.

She had no time to ponder on it. Things were suddenly happening much too quickly—Jordan was already headed for the door! She was still completely under the thrall of her blood! If she joined the other Heralds, there would be no way for Ana to quell the demonic resonance in her without being attacked and overwhelmed. Ana drew her blade. She was close on Jordan’s heels. She sprinted the last few steps, and before Jordan could react, she reached out and touched her.

Jordan hissed, and her eyes rolled back behind her twitching eyelids. Her whole body tensed, and Ana could only imagine the pain she felt even as she herself felt the sickening discomfort of their connection. Sanctified power flowed through her, and into Jordan—and Ana’s body shivered and tensed as the exertion made her eyes water. She couldn’t help but be grateful that it made the young woman cramp up so much that she wasn’t able to scream.

When the discomfort in Ana’s own body passed, Jordan was awake as well. She looked at Ana with wide and panicked eyes.

“Oh God, we have to hurry!”

Sam’s mind was a turmoil of heat and lust and purpose and at the same time, she was possessed by a leaden calmness. A dense fog seemed to have descended upon her. She felt like she was standing close to a burning fire with closed eyes.

She wanted this. She knew this. This was right. She had come here because it was right. She was waiting, now. Waiting for her body to be raped and corrupted, which was what she wanted. The knowledge was warm and filled her with a feeling of exhilaration. The ancient blood within her would serve the Mother. She knew that. It was correct. It was what she was meant to do. It was the purpose that filled her, the purpose that had led her here. She felt so good. Detective Park and someone else were fucking next to her. She liked that, too. She knew that they were flesh-servants; the Mother’s gifts had taken their souls and made them forever into Her willing unquestioning thralls. The same would happen to her, soon. It did not worry her at all. She wanted it. She was to be the second Herald of Her rebirth. From her body, She would be remade. Detective Mina Park had been the first, and Jordan would become the third. She would follow the Call the same way she had, and willingly offer her flesh to the Mother’s gift.

Jordan will die. Something about that thought tasted sour and she winced. But the feeling didn't last. Her clouded attention returned to the easy pleasure of listening to the moans of the flesh-servants on the floor next to her, and she let herself be swept away by the red-hot mist.

Time passed, and the world was an opaque cloud of excitement and arousal. Her mind focussed when she heard a noise, however. The flesh-servants stopped rutting. And from the bathroom crawled the thing Sam had been craving. Black and shiny, with a hundred sharp legs and wicked fangs, the demonic Gift crawled into view. Without ritual, without any further hesitation, Sam planted herself on her back and spread her legs for it. Have my soul. Have my body. What I was will die now, she thought impulsively, and it felt right to think, but it also felt like she wasn’t really the one that was thinking it. There was the sound of a door bell, but she hardly registered it. Someone was getting up somewhere, but her mind was caught in a spinning tumble of lust and fear.

Something caught in her mind. I want to live, though, she thought. She didn’t want to die, did she? Self-preservation was the most primal of instincts, and right now it was at odds with the overwhelming purpose she felt. I have to die, something insisted. No. How could that be right? It felt right, but it couldn’t be! She must have made a mistake. She—

Suddenly, pain exploded through her as something hard and cold and sharp forced itself into her vagina.

Jordan was barely even awake when the panic set in. “They’re in there, both of them! She’s in there! Sam! She’s still herself! I could feel it! We have to go in and save her, now!”

Ana looked at her with an expression that could have meant either concern or suppressed fear. She was hesitating, and in a flash of anger, Jordan realized that was considering waiting for backup. “Do you have a second weapon?” Jordan asked.

Ana hesitated, again.

“Do you?!”

“Yes...” Ana stammered and pulled out a small pocket knife. It didn’t look at all like the ornate thing she was brandishing in her right hand.

Jordan took it, and rang the doorbell—and Ana’s mouth fell open with sudden shock and anger. She looked at her as if she might cut her down right then and there. It lasted only a moment. however. Then, something in her seemed to click and her expression hardened in an entirely different way. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was righteous fury.

“Go for the legs. I will strike to kill.” she said, her voice hard as ice. “Two steps back. Throw yourself towards the enemy. Do not hesitate.”

If Jordan had ever doubted her, that doubt had gone now. Ana knew how to fight. She knew what to do—and Jordan would do exactly that.

There were five seconds of silence. It was the longest amount of time Jordan had ever experienced. It was enough time for empires to rise and fall and be forgotten.

After eons, the door was opened by a brunette woman that Jordan did not recognize. It didn’t matter. She had felt the truth in the disgusting heat of her blood: there was only evil in this place, and this woman was part of it.

Everything happened in the span of a few seconds. Jordan sprang forward, following Ana’s direction, adrenaline screaming in her veins. The woman hissed in surprise and anger, taking a half-step back—and She was quicker than Jordan had ever seen anyone move. Jordan landed painfully on her knees, and the pocket knife tumbled from her hands. But it was all the opening Ana had needed. There was quick movement, and a grunt—and Jordan heard a sickening, wet noise, and felt burning hot droplets of dark red liquid hit her forearms and the backs of her hands.

She looked up, and saw the woman—her bloodshot eyes wide with pain and fear. She had stopped moving, and for a moment nothing at all seemed to move. Ana’s fist was pressed against the woman’s chest, and it took Jordan a split second to realize that that fist still contained the sword. Ana had run the woman through, straight through her heart!

Ana twisted the blade, then pulled it out—and Jordan shut her eyes. She felt something hot and liquid spray all over her, and her stomach lurched with fear and disgust.

There was a terrible, terrible scream—but it hadn’t been the woman Ana had just killed. It had come from further inside, from somewhere they couldn't see.

Jordan’s guts twisted into a knot. It had been Sam.

Sam screamed. A thousand knives were stabbing her in her most sensitive place, and it was pure agony. She screamed, and suddenly she was wide awake. The spell had lifted. She wished it hadn’t. “Oh God!” she shrieked. Her hands tried to grasp at the horrible thing between her legs. It was like someone had stuck a knife into her. Her hands tried to hold on, but it twisted and stung and cut into her with its claws, and she couldn’t. It was too much! She couldn't bear it! She couldn't—

Then, just as suddenly, the worst pain she had ever felt in her life flipped itself over into its complete opposite. Somehow nothing changed, but everything changed, and the pain had become the most intense pleasure she could have ever imagined. "Oh God! Oh God, what is—Aaaaaaahhhh!"

She screamed again, and this time it was because she’d just climaxed from the apocalyptic joy in her groin. Her whole body shivered and twisted uncontrollably. For a moment, her hands fell uselessly away to her sides as she flexed her body in an attempt to wiggle out of the white-hot sensation. She closed her legs, but that only seemed to push the terrible thing deeper into her. She tried to grasp it again and pull it out—but her hands were so weak now. It was suddenly so hard to even move them between her legs. She felt sluggish and unresponsive—but her sudden weakness didn’t seem to diminish the disgusting and horrifying pleasure at all. She was in a terrified haze, and it felt so good. How could it feel so good when she was so afraid at the same time?!

She dimly noticed loud noises, but their cause might as well have been on another planet. It was a pin dropping in a thunderstorm. Her heart felt like it would explode in all the fear and panic and pleasure—and she knew what was happening to her. It was corrupting her! It was going to turn her into a soulless demon!

Oh God, no! she realized desperately. I’m going to die!

Mina sprinted into the lobby and saw what had happened—and the world turned red as she wintessed Katie slump and collapse to the floor—dead. Every ounce of Mina’s being was rage and hatred. Her corrupted blood was on fire with the primal need to kill. The image of Katie’s lifeless body burned hotter than a thousand suns in her hate-filled heart. The filthy interloper had killed her! Mina would tear that whore’s flesh from her bone! She would rip out her heart! She would—

—and then she noticed Jordan at the cursed interloper’s feet, and her rage turned a deeper shade of red. This disgusting blonde cunt had dared to use the third Herald to help her!? “She is ours!” Mina screamed, and her voice was an inhuman roar.

“Not anymore, demon!” said the Interloper, and raised her sword. Mina hissed, ready to kill—but she hesitated. The foul bitch had killed Katie; she had killed the librarian; she had killed so many of the Gifts. It dawned on Mina that it was quite possible that she would not be able to defeat her. Mina looked at the interloper with death in her eyes, but didn’t pounce—even if every nerve in her body told her to kill. Behind the interloper, Jordan Wright rose to her feet. She had picked up a tiny pocket knife, and her eyes were hard and clear with her own unbound thoughts. Mina could hardly feel her blood. Her Calling must somehow have been suppressed—no doubt by the cursed woman that stood between them. But it was still there, inside of her! It would always be there! Jordan was theirs! Her blood was theirs! Her flesh was theirs!

“You must serve!” Mina screamed, and she could feel a flash of resonance within the black girl.

“No!” Jordan screamed in protest, but Mina knew she’d felt the words in her quivering cunt. She was flesh, meant to serve. She couldn’t escape that fact. Her body would always betray her; she was mere feet away from the Mother’s sanctum!

The interloper dared to take another step forward, holding her blood-stained blade between them. Mina took a cautious step back, then another—keeping her distance, slowly backing away into the Sanctum, drawing Jordan closer to the source of the resonance. She heard Samantha’s unearthly moans behind her and smiled wickedly. Even now, she felt her pussy throb with the satisfaction of hearing Sam lose her soul.

The interloper was approaching her very carefully—too carefully. She didn’t know if there were other flesh-servants waiting in an ambush. Yes! Good! All that Mina needed was time. From the corner of her eye, she could see how Jordan was beginning to sweat.

“You’re too late,” she said. “Do you hear that? The second Herald is already moaning like a whore! She’s becoming what she’s meant to be.” She was looking at the cursed interloper as she spoke, putting every bit of hatred into her taunts. But the words weren’t meant for her. They were meant for Jordan.

“I will cut all of you down,” the interloper growled, her eyes filled with fury and disgust, body tense with focus and rage. "You will not have this world! You shall never claim it!"

Good. Look at me. Only at me. I can already feel the heat rising—unlike you!

Jordan’s heart was threatening to burst. She could feel it beat against her chest like a caged animal trying to escape. Her whole body was prickling with adrenaline and fear and the knife in her hand felt foreign and wrong and way too heavy. She wasn’t meant to be in this situation. She wasn’t meant to fight for her life.

She heard another loud moan, and winced—and she wanted Ana to jump forward and kill and free Sam and end all of this horror. She wanted her to end this! Her own feet felt like lead as she stood behind Ana and watched the naked asian woman standing between them and Sam. She recognized her. It was the police detective Sam had talked to—the one they had met just last night, the one she’d felt vaguely attracted to. Now when she looked at the beautiful woman, all she could see was a dangerous animal of prey. Her eyes were pitiless and almost inhuman, and her muscles shifted under her skin in a way that seemed unnatural and wrong and Jordan was convinced that the woman would be able to rip open a normal human’s rib cage with her bare hands. The longer she looked at her however, the less important it seemed to kill her. She just wanted Sam. That was what was important. She wanted to be with her. She needed to keep her safe.

Another scream made Jordan's body tremble with terror.

“You’re too late,” the naked woman said with a sickening smile. “Do you hear that? The second Herald is already moaning like a whore! She’s becoming what she’s meant to be.”

The words made Jordan’s heart leap with fear and disgust. At least she thought so. It might have been something else. For a short moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of concern. Something she should tell Ana about. Something important.

Then, the overwhelming emotions in her chest gripped her and drove the thought from her mind.

She had to be with Sam. She wanted Sam. She wanted her.

Ana was slowly advancing. Too slowly. Sam was screaming! Sam was dying! They had to do something! Now! Before it was too late!

She hated Ana. Why wasn’t she charging? Why wasn't she fighting? Why wasn't she attacking?! Why wasn’t she saving Sam?!

...why wasn’t Jordan?

Another moan echoed through the building, and Jordan could feel a sudden heat blooming in her body. Her heart was racing fast and she felt so incredibly overwhelmed by all of this. She was so close! She was so close to saving Sam! She felt sweaty and nauseous, and very hot, and suddenly she was certain that they would succeed. She didn't know why, but she knew that they would save her. She would be with her. She would have her. She would feel her again and be with her and love her and —

Oh no, she realized too late as the blood welled up in her. She hadn’t noticed it. She had been too overwhelmed with fear and adrenaline to feel the familiar dark excitement swell within her. But she only thought of Sam now, of having her, joining her. She was so sexy. She was so hot. She would serve. She would become—

“Ana, help!” Jordan moaned—and she could see the woman’s look of terrified realization before the irresistible thrill swept away the last mite of concern, and all she could feel was the excitement and exhilaration of joining with Sam, of giving in and letting herself be consumed by the endless pleasure and lust between her legs. Yesss!!!

Ana turned, and in a single moment she knew that all hope was lost. She had failed.

It all happened at once.

She saw Jordan’s expression smooth over, and her eyes emptying as her mind was swallowed up by the demonic resonance. She hadn’t noticed it. She had been too occupied with the mortal danger in front of her, and the incessant throbbing and humming of her amulet had been so constant and strong that it had masked what had been happening behind her. The Herald hadn’t been taunting her—she had been boiling Jordan’s blood.

She realized all of this in a single heartbeat. The same heartbeat in which she heard the demon woman pounce. She turned, and raised her blade without having time to look.

The impact knocked her back, but she kept to her feet. The demon had caught the blade in her hands, and was clasping it between her fingers. The edge cut into the corrupted woman’s flesh, and for a moment Ana and her were caught in a contest of strength. Blood ran from the demon’s hands down her blade, and it screamed in rage and agony. Ana screamed with exertion and drew the sword back with a jerk, slicing deeper into the corrupted flesh. An opening! She took a half-step back, and drew her blade with her, ready to strike with a stab as the demon screamed with rage and pain.

Suddenly, pain exploded in Ana’s right foot. Before she had even realized what was happening, there was a second eruption of agony—and she hit the floor with her right shoulder, and her head whip-lashed against the linoleum. For a moment, all she knew was that she was in pain. But it was reflex, instinct. It took another moment for her conscious mind to realize that, first, her dagger was no longer in her hands, and second, where the blinding pain was in fact coming from:

Jordan had cut her achilles tendon.

Go for the legs, she remembered in a bitter flash of irony—and it took her another couple of seconds to realize that she was not dead. She looked up and saw the naked, bleeding demon that was holding her grandfather’s sacred dagger in its hands—and next to her stood Jordan, her eyes thoughtless and empty, her mouth agape and turned into a mild smile. They were staring down at her without a word, breathing heavily. “Do not kill her,” Jordan’s mouth said, and her toneless voice betrayed the lack of anything in those words that was truly her.

“I should, though,” the other said. “I’d really like to.”

“We have lost a flesh-servant," Jordan droned. "We need another. More importantly still, she is a servant of our enemy. Making her ours will weaken them more than killing her ever could.”

Somehow, with a primal scream of pain and exertion, Ana managed to push herself up, onto her good foot—and she threw herself forward at her own blade.

She was too slow. The demon raised the blade over her head and caught Ana by the neck. Before she could even feel the pain of being choked, more sharp pain shot through her and her right leg gave in underneath her. In a burst of shrill agony she collapsed back to the floor. No! She must not give up! Again, she tried to get to get to her feet, tried to get a hold of the sword, tried to find a way out, tried to avert the terrible turn of events that she knew was racing towards her. But to no avail. Mina Park's unnaturally strong hands gripped her and forced her to her knees.

“No,” Jordan said impassionately as the demon woman wrestled her onto her stomach and twisted her arms behind her back. “You will serve.”

From beyond the doors, another scream of Samantha Collins' dark pleasure rang through the building, and Ana started weeping for the world she had doomed.

Sam’s body was incandescent with unwanted lust as another bolt of hellish pleasure shot through her. “Noooooo,” she moaned, and it was little more than an unintelligible slur. It sounded more like a moan of pleasure than a scream for help. Please, stop! she thought, but she could feel that horrible creature burrow deeper into her—into the wall of her womb, up her spine. She could feel it scrape against her bones. It would have been sickening if it wasn’t the greatest pleasure she’d ever felt.  It was relentless. She moaned and gasped between whimpers of fear, but it never stopped, never let off. It wiggled and clawed, and pushed, deeper and deeper, and suddenly the last of the creature slipped inside her womb, and she came again. There were tears in her eyes. She couldn’t think anymore. Every thought was interrupted by the waves of disgusting sexual pleasure.

Oh God, please, no. She could feel something else grow in her now. Something uncomfortably warm. Something that seemed to saturate her blood. Something that made her limbs numb and her skin crawl. The darkness. The gift of the Mother. She knew what it was. She remembered. She sobbed uncontrollably. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want this to happen. She didn’t want to—

She came again, and the prickling under her skin seemed to spike. It wouldn’t be long now. She didn’t have any more time left. The creature was fully inside her now, melding with her flesh. Its tainted blood mixing with hers. She could feel herself getting hot. Her nipples and lips seemed to burn, and with it came a irresistable craving to have them touched, and it felt terrible how good it felt. Oh God, no. This shouldn't be the last thing she ever felt! She didn’t want this to be her final—

Suddenly, there was movement around her, and some desperate part of her was able to focus through the pleasure and look at whoever it was that was entering the room. It took all her strength to turn her head even a slight bit so that she could see it from the corners of her eyes. Please, help me! Someone! Cut it out. Kill it! Please!!!

Then, she saw the black hair, the dark skin. She was wearing the same jacket she’d worn yesterday. She was here! The woman she’d fallen in love with! Jordan! For one fleeting moment, her world turned into relief and joy and hope. It wasn’t too late! Jordan was here to save her! She had a knife! She could cut it out! She could save her! But then Jordan turned to her—and her eyes looked straight through Sam. She showed no reaction at all.

Then, after a terrible moment, Jordan smiled, and Sam’s insides turned to ice. “Yesss,” Jordan said tonelessly, “Your flesh will serve.”

No... No... No. Sam closed her eyes, and cried—but a surge of unwanted pleasure made her tremble and buck, and her moan turned into a desperate whimper. The roiling heat in her groin was too much. She groaned again, breathing heavily as waves and waves of lust rocked her and threatened to drown her. She didn’t want it to end like this. She didn’t want Jordan to see her lose. See her die. She didn’t want to—

Suddenly, it happened. Sam screamed as world-ending pleasure erupted in her like a star going supernova. Her body became a singularity, and exploded in an all-obliterating orgasm. Her heat glowed brighter than a billion suns and the blinding radiance of her pleasure swallowed up everything, scorched every cell and nerve and thought within her. Then the light faded, and became extinguished, and there was nothing left. The sun had died, and its light with it. Sam's body twitched and crumpled and went still as her lifeless eyes looked at nothing.

Samantha Collins was dead.

But not for long.