It had been twelve years since the portal event. Twelve long, frenetic years. Although, Richard had been a Demon Hunter for much longer than that. He remembered when running into anything besides a minor possession was a huge deal, only the big guns were ever able to breach the boundary between Hell and Earth, but it happened every so often. Privacy was key--you never knew if some Demon followed in a bigger one’s wake and was trying to make a name by killing the Hunters.

That was how Richard earned his callsign: Ghost. Demons of all sorts could find as many paper trails of his as they wanted to, even find property he owned or businesses he ran, but it was almost like he himself didn’t exist. Plenty of people had spoken to him, but none had ever talked to him in person, and he was never on any footage as he never went anywhere. Everything was handled by third parties, all being paid more than enough to not care to ask questions. Because of this system, Richard was quick to discover when Demons had targeted him.

Those Demons would just disappear. Some would be sent back to Hell, some were systematically destroyed, and some were expertly vivisected over the period of months to learn more about them. Richard wasn’t just feared by Demons, but by people as well. Because no one knew who he really was, or even what he looked like, everyone was terrified to even say anything that could be construed as pity for the Demons. It was a zero-tolerance time, and he was a zero-tolerance man. But twelve years ago…

When the portal opened and all Hell broke loose, somewhat literally, he found himself often wading through the debris that accounted for his latest kills. He was very good at what he did, and he was very unfulfilled. He drew no pleasure from life at all, often staring down a barrel of his own gun, wondering if ‘Today was the day’. Even twelve years later he could still remember the taste of his revolver, the texture on his tongue, the absolute nothing he felt when the bullet refused to discharge. He still carried that bullet in his vest’s inside pocket as a reminder that not all things go according to plan.

Although his plan failed, he believed someone out there, some benevolent creator must have spared him for a greater purpose. Fact was, this greater purpose presented itself in the strangest of ways, mere minutes after failing to kill himself.

A frail man had stumbled down the alley that Richard had chosen as his grave, gaunt and terror-stricken gaze locked with Richards as tears poured down the man’s cheeks.

“Help me,” he had begged and choked. “Save me, please.”

Although stunned, Richard was able to notice that this man wasn’t human at all. A tail that appeared half ripped off dragged on the pavement behind him, a wing was broken in several places, another appeared to be missing entirely. Worse for wear would be an understatement--he looked like a solid jab would finish him off. A jab Richard almost gave him, too.

A bulkier figure, easily twice to three times the size of the other man, charged into view of the alley. Hot tar seemed to drip from this creature’s hooves as it walked, and it held the man’s missing wing in its clawed hand.

He had seen Demons in-fighting before, and it never bothered him. As the saying goes, Evil will oft mar Evil. Something about this was different. This didn’t feel like in-fighting, this didn’t feel like revenge from one Demon to another. Why were this Demon man’s words stuck in his head? “Save me…”

Before he knew or registered what he was doing, Richard had charged off to engage the larger Demon. The fight was quick, decisive, and one-sided. Richard tossed the Demon’s head in a trash can and left the body where it lay. Wordlessly he stared at the gaunt Demon he’d just rescued, both of them just staring for the longest time. Richard wasn’t even sure what he was going to do, prior to the gaunt Demon collapsing in the alley.

He called in many favors that night, spent an exorbitant amount of money, and even extorted to get his way, but not much longer than three hours later he had a small office building being converted into a medical trauma unit.

This was the first time he’d directly interacted with anyone in years. He could barely bring himself to say the bare minimum to everyone there, even to save this creature’s life. Richard knew they’d question his motives, probably even try to ask their bosses about it, but they’d remain respectful… or at the least, fearful. They did manage to save the Demon’s life--a good lot of the damage was healed by the time they got there--but its death was still likely without intervention. A week he waited for it to wake up, and a month more for him to say something. Both Richard and the Demon remained in this renovated building, waiting for the other to do something.

“I’m starving,” were the Demon’s first words to break the silence. “I haven’t eaten since I came here, to Earth.”

“I wasn’t aware your kind needed food.”

“I think we both know that’s not what I’m saying.” The Demon looked at his hands, flexing them gently, as if unsure of his own strength. “I need energy.”

Richard was standing across the makeshift infirmary-dormitory, his arms crossed and his face as neutral as he could manage--which was, at this point in his career, completely unreadable. He looked at the demon and analyzed what he knew. “You’re an Incubus, aren’t you? I could bring in some dirty magazines and let you take care of yourself.”

“It unfortunately doesn’t work like that. I guess… normally that would be enough to tide me over, but I haven’t eaten in a long while, so I don’t have anything in my reserves,” the Incubus grimaced at him.

Richard’s gaze drifted, and he tapped his index finger against his opposite arm as he thought. “I don’t suppose me taking a quick wank in the other room would be quite satisfactory, either?”

“That would be akin to, like, half a granola bar.”

Richard considered the situation in silence for a few moments. Incubi survived off of sexual energy, the dirtier the better, sometimes literally. The adrenaline, the physical closeness, the control and loss of control, the powerful emotions and sensations rocketing through the bodies of their prey. Normally, though, they just got this by possessing and seducing people against their will. They could manipulate people’s hormones and endorphins to force them into arousal and desire. There had to be a reason this Demon wasn’t doing that now.

It could be just that he didn’t have the strength to. Over the weeks, Richard’s medical team had determined that the human host body had changed over time. They’d done all they could to repair that body, but it seemed there was only one thing that would bring the demonic parts of him back to health. And if he didn’t get it soon, he likely wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’m not going to turn any woman working for me into a prostitute,” he resolved firmly.

“There’s no need to denigrate sex work,” the Incubus pouted. “And I don’t need a woman. To be perfectly honest…if a beggar might also be a chooser, I actually wouldn’t prefer a woman.”

It took a second for his meaning to sink in, even with the tempting, wanting eyes he was looking at Richard with.

“You don’t want me,” Richard finally said, quietly.

That made the Incubus sit up just a little on his bed, turning his torso to the side so he could face Richard fully. “No?”

“No.”

“You did save my life. Not to mention, I’m a little short on options.”

“We can look into finding some options.”

“I notice you haven’t said a word about whether you want me.”

“Your kind don’t normally care about that,” Richard said sharply. “If you’re starving so bad, why don’t you just wriggle your little tendrils into my brain and make me?”

The Incubus went quiet at that, his eyes turning downward. Richard wasn’t sure if this new expression was defeat, or shame, or simple exhaustion.

“I don’t want to,” the Incubus admitted. “Leo wouldn’t want me to.”

Leonard Rifai had been the name on the I.D. found in the pockets of the shredded clothes he’d found the Incubus in. “You mean your host? The person whose soul you deleted so you could fuck around in his skin?”

“He’s not deleted. He’s still in here.” The Incubus tapped his temple. “We have…an arrangement. We’ve had it for a while. And as much as I’ve changed his body…I think he’s changed me, too.” His voice grew quieter. “I still really couldn’t care less if I starved to death…except that it’d kill Leo, too. But I’d rather do that than go back to who I was before him.”

He sounded like he really cared about his host. Not only about his life, but about his opinions and his morals. Richard had never heard a Demon talk like this before…granted, he’d never given a Demon much chance to talk this long before.

The Incubus shifted again, sitting up further, and the white sheet he’d been resting under fell from his chest. His skin was a smooth, rich shade of mahogany, just a bit redder than a human’s tone would naturally be. His physique was no longer emaciated, but slender and lean. His lithe shoulders hunched forward, almost shyly, and Richard was struck abruptly with a fact that gripped his insides like hot talons: he did want him.

He’d never been one to spend much time with other people, what with his line of work. That wasn’t to say he was a virgin by any means; he’d had his flings once or twice. But that had been before his diagnosis.

“I mean it,” Richard said flatly. “You don’t want me.”

“Richard,” the Incubus replied, just as matter-of-fact, “I need you.”

He took the sheet between a pair of nimble fingers and pulled it aside, revealing his form to be completely naked underneath. That mahogany-red continued with perfect evenness down a pair of svelte hips and long legs, darkening to a lush maroon at the center. A lovely cock the color of wine emerged from under a soft mound of curly black hair, already hard.

“Please,” the Incubus breathed.

Richard’s hand didn’t wait for a command from his brain before it was at the zipper of his trousers. But he managed to stop himself, for just a second, even as he felt his own cock hardening. “One condition.”

“Anything.”

“As soon as you’re…sated…you have to answer every single one of my questions. Fully, honestly, and unambiguously. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

The Incubus almost smirked, his eyes dilating with anticipation until they were nearly completely black. “So help me, God.”

Just a transaction. Just to get information. Just to keep him alive. Nothing more.

Richard dropped his trousers and kicked off his shoes, making his way over to the bed in his boxer-briefs and socks. The Incubus accepted him readily, pulling him into a soft open-mouthed kiss as soon as he reached him. The kiss quickly grew hungrier, and Richard found himself straddling the Demon’s waist, feeling those willowy hips grinding up against him.

“I don’t suppose you brought protection,” Richard panted, his voice low and gruff.

The Incubus chuckled sultrily. “Worried you’ll knock me up?”

“There’s other things condoms protect against.”

“You know the ‘H’ in HIV stands for human, right? If Incubi and Succubae could carry it, we’d wipe your species out in a matter of days.”

“And your host?”

The Incubus’ expression changed slightly as he understood. “You haven’t done this in a while, have you, Richard? You’ve been so scared of telling people you’re positive, that you’ve just let yourself be pent up. Haven’t you?”

“Answer me.”

“Admit that you want me.”

Richard’s cheeks burned with embarrassment that this Demon was calling him out and pushing him around so easily, but he was right about it all. His erection was so hard it was starting to hurt. “Yes.”

The Incubus grinned. “I’m all the protection he needs, Demon Hunter. Now shut up and fuck me already.”

He tugged at the waistband of Richard’s underwear and lifted his hips. Richard hurriedly pulled the fabric the rest of the way off and roughly grabbed hold of the Incubus’ ass, silently savoring the supple give of his warm flesh and the delighted moans he let out at being manhandled. Richard explored the round ass with his fingertips until he found the tight, slick skin of the Demon’s hole, twitching slightly with excitement. He prodded it gently with one finger, then two. The Incubus gasped at every touch.

“Sex Demons--self-lubricating,” Richard smirked. “That’s handy.”

“Only the best for you, darling,” the Incubus laughed breathily.

The laugh started low, and then suddenly pitched two octaves higher as Richard seized his legs and lifted them onto his shoulders, lining his aching member up with the Incubus' eager hole. He entered him slowly at first, carefully; then instinct took over, and he buried himself to the hilt with one snapping thrust.

“Ohhh, fuck,” the Incubus sighed.

Richard rolled his hips in a slow wheel, relishing in the sensation of being inside such tight, wet heat. The Incubus rocked against him, arching his spine in desperate effort to feel Richard deeper inside him. Soon he was fucking him in earnest, letting all his pent-up energy flow into him, fervid and electric and ravenous. He leaned over to take the Demon’s stiff red nipple into his mouth, just for a moment, before letting his lips trail up to his collarbone, his throat, the corner of his jaw.

When he reached his lips, he slowed his pace. He could feel himself getting close, but didn’t want to let it end just yet--not without keeping it even. Richard moved one hand from the Incubus’ hip to his wanting mahogany cock, and started stroking the hard, warm member between his fingers. The Incubus shuddered and moaned.

“Do you want to make me cum, Richard?” the Incubus keened. “You want to cum with me?”

“Yes,” Richard answered, almost involuntarily. The Demon’s dick felt so thick and full and perfect in his hand; his hole felt so hot and hungry and incredible around his cock.

But he had to keep control. He had to remember what this was for.

“You’d better be ready to keep your promise,” Richard growled, tightening his grip on the Incubus for just a moment. “Or next time you get nothing.”

The Incubus whined. “Yes, yes, I promise! Oh, yes, please--” He breathed heavily and flexed his body as close as he could into Richard’s. “Please, please, cum inside me, Demon Hunter. Fill us up! Make us yours!”

At that point, he had no choice but to oblige. He thrust in hard and tensed, his whole body going tight as a live wire as pleasure washed through him like a tidal wave. The Incubus let out a blissful cry as his own climax hit him at the exact same time, painting both their chests with spurts of white.

Richard didn’t even bother to pull out before he collapsed, burying his face in the crook of the Demon’s shoulder and neck. The Incubus sighed, then chuckled, then wrapped an arm around Richard’s back and lightly kissed his temple.

“Much better than a granola bar,” the Incubus hummed.

“Hah. How many answers would you say it’s worth?” Richard replied in a voice raspy with exhaustion.

“Mm, a lot. We’ll see. Start asking questions.”

Richard thought for a few seconds. Finally, the first question he settled on was: “What’s your name?”

“Khetlan Avill.” The Incubus introduced himself, taking a deep breath as he relaxed into the afterglow, as well as satedness.

“First and last name? I’ve never known a demon to have a first and second name, unless we’re talking about titles.” Richard said, sitting against the bedside wall.

“Oh, please don’t lump me in with the primadonnas. Eris, Malphas, even my mother Lilith. They all waltz around with the equivalent air of ‘Madonna’, as if everyone should know they are the one and only.” Khetlan said, as he propped himself up. “You may just call me Khetlan, or Khet if you’re feeling familiar.”

“So, Mr. Avill, tell me something I shouldn’t know about Demons.”

**

And that’s pretty much how it went for a while. Richard would fuck Khetlan, and then Khetlan would divulge anything and everything that Richard could ask for. Nothing was particularly ‘juicy’, as even most of the ‘forbidden’ knowledge was more just a faux-paux to tell a non-demon, and it really never amounted to much. Eventually it did become an issue of being able to have something to show for the effort, or else the family might decide to step in and… relieve Richard of his ‘Incubus Pet’.

Five months was about all he could afford, his leash was tightening fast. “You have to give me something, or else they are going to march right through those doors and they will kill you. Hell, they’ll probably try to put me down too, depending on who it is that’s getting the order. You need to give me something that actually matters.”

Khetlan was fairly well dressed, refusing to wear less than a modest suit at any time, and paced the room that was his home… his cage. He looked up at Richard as he debated on telling him anything. Khetlan didn’t know what there was he could tell him at this point, nothing was relevant. He could regale Richard of tales from ten-thousand years ago and they’d be fascinating, sure, but useless. “I know your kind wants information on how to fight mine. I know you want to hear weaknesses, strengths, numbers, loyalties, vices and virtues, but we’re not some monster from your Dungeons and Dragons. We’re not so uniform. Each of us is unique, inside each of us is a city.”

“I don’t know, just anything! I need to know something useful, not necessarily actionable.” Richard said, going for a cigarette.

Khetlan stopped his pacing, turning to Richard and staring at him with a cold gaze. “Your kind has only seen the tip of the iceberg. You think Succubae or Incubae are bad? You think those rank-and-file Anubian warriors are terrifying? Hell, you think Lilith is bad? The Primordials… what you would call ArchDemons, the Originators themselves, the most ancient of evils, are unknowable.

“If even one gets loose, if ONE is allowed to roam freely, you will know a measure of fear your kind hasn’t felt in an eon. We’re talking babies' faces melting, orphans being crucified in the streets, people vomiting their hearts out of their mouths, all manner of Demons ripping their way through the barrier between worlds..”

“Sounds like some real Clive Barker shit,” Richard said, taking a thoughtful drag off his cigarette.

“You’d wish it was the Cenobites after you if the wrong ArchDemon made its way out here. Not all things terrifying happen to flesh and bone, nor do they end with your conversion or death.”

Richard listened, taking slow drags on his cigarette while he mulled over what he was hearing. As interesting as this was to hear, like everything else Khetlan had told him, it wasn’t useful. “Listen, if you even had knowledge of enemies that your kind have, would you even tell me?”

Khetlan turned to Richard, his expression serious. “Pretty much everything is an enemy to my kind, Richard, even our own. Although… perhaps I’m making the same assumptions you are.”

“What do you mean?” Richard asked, his brow knitting.

“I’ve been operating on the assumption that you’re only looking for knowledge about Demons.”

“That’s… yes, that is what I’m asking.”

“Richard,” Khetlan folded his arms before continuing, “Not everything your kind believes are Demons, are. Even those of us who are Demons, it’s a very general term. It’s like me saying Terran, but not explaining if I’m talking about animals or humans.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am a Demon, specifically an Incubus. You are a Terran, specifically Human. Even that is a broad interpretation, but it brings you closer to actually understanding us.” He sighs, thinking for a moment. “There are Spirits here that may have originated in Hell, but they migrated to Earth eons ago. They grew alongside Humanity and learned to coexist. They’re not Demons, they’re closer to a coalesced neutral thoughtform, taking on aspects throughout the ages that were given to them by the Humans who prayed to them.”

“Prayed to them? For what?” Richard asked, letting a slow plume of smoke escape his nostrils.

“Protection, guidance, abundance, healing, safe birthing, you name it. There was no one organized religion around them, each family and tribe would pray to any number of them, and that is how they wanted it.” Khetlan leaned against the wall of the room, letting his eyes drift to the beams of sunlight slipping through the glazed window.

“Where are they? Underground I’d imagine?”

“If they’re smart, yes. As I understand it, most of them were destroyed centuries ago. You know how it is, Demons and other Spirits and such want to be worshiped so they can gain power. If you have a caste of spirits that bucks the norm, it’s better to just remove the obstacle.” Khetlan sighed in thought. “Truthfully I never met one, I wasn’t around when they were plentiful. I’ve just heard stories from irritated Demons that used to contend with them in ye olden times.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Richard smothered the remnants of his cigarette in the ashtray beside him.

“Because you need to know a simple fact,” A smirk played on the edges of Khetlan’s lips, “Not all that dwells in Hell is a Demon.”

**

Richard stared at a wall while he thought, letting his eyes trace the cracks and lines in a thoughtful autopilot. “Not all that dwells in Hell is a Demon.” Richard repeated to himself, playing with the thought as if it was warm clay in his mind. “Not everything that we believe is a Demon, is.”

Richard walked over to the intercom for the room, pressing the button. Though he didn’t hear it he knew it must have rung as Danny, Ariana, and the spirit looked towards the two-way mirror. “Babel, my name is Richard Lavante, and I need you to answer me exactly one question.”

The spirit, Babel, didn’t stand, but she did nod. “I can try.”

“Are you really, truly, a Demon?” Richard asked. The silence hung between them as her eyes darted around while she thought. He could almost sense the nervous energy coming off of Babel while she thought and tried to hold onto memories.

“I don’t know.”