Women of Supernatural, s3: Demon Tammi
HIATUS AGAIN, and so my Women of Supernatural Project resumes. :)
"Ruby Gives the Slip to the Dealmaker"
657 words.
Rated PG-13 for violence, the rack, canon character death.
Spoilers for 3.09, Malleus Maleficarum.
No pairings. Feat. the Tammi demon, Ruby, cameos by Alastair and Azazel.
The demon in Tammi was a dealmaker, and Ruby was her one that got away.
Demons grow to savor certain flavors. Some, like Alastair, favor pain, the singing nerves of excruciation like a symphony of torment to the torturer’s ear. Some, like Lilith, lean toward the appalling - the horror of a mother coming to loathe her own child, Lilith licking the tears off faces wrenched in agony as the beloved, delicate throat is throttled. Some, like the dealmakers, merely revel in the rush the mark feels when the deal seems less than airtight, the resultant panic when the net inexorably tightens.
This dealmaker knew the demon Ruby on the rack, knew her pretty well after all the time she’d spent with her. Cutting Ruby didn’t work, even though Alastair was a master with the knife: Ruby’s blood reminded her of her life, and she hung on by her fingernails, even after they were pulled off. Threatening Ruby only made her laugh. The dealmaker had put on the semblance of loved ones but Ruby never bought it. Even as Ruby’s soul was stained, her faith in the Lightbringer shone in her heart.
Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by eternal, never-ending day, Ruby still longed for the Lightbringer with every throb of her still-all-too-human heart, corrupted though it was by the rack.
Easily Ruby crawled, abased herself to the dealmaker, whimpering, Yes, my Lady-- but always her lip curled and laughter lingered in her voice. Ruby could still touch salt; she could say the name of God (though it sounded like Lucifer).
Eventually, the archlord Azazel appeared, savoring Ruby’s screams as Alastair plied his trade. Alastair leaned back, and Ruby panted for breath. With black eyes she glanced up at the powerful archdemon, pleading with him silently to pull the leather strap from between her teeth.
Azazel laughed, and bade the dealmaker do it. Grimacing, she took the bloody, bespittled thing and threw it down into the offal. Let her ask for it back when the pain ratcheted up, the dealmaker thought bitterly.
“Thank you, my lord.” The brazen thing had the nerve to speak, to meet the yellow eyes of the ancient One.
“You interest me, Ruby,” Azazel leered.
“May it please my lord,” Ruby replied, smiling slightly, lowering her eyes, black as midnight, black as she could will them now.
“You give me an idea,” the archlord said.
Ruby shuddered deliciously, and even the dealmaker had to admire her artifice. Any idea of the archfiend’s could only bode ill, but Ruby’s masochism was the stuff of Hell’s malicious, envious whispers.
Azazel raised Ruby’s tattered soul from the rack with his own hooks; as she screamed and writhed around him, he took her away. The dealmaker washed herself of Ruby’s humanity and her midnight faith - till sometime later, when the dealmaker talked her way into a body up Above. Intimations of power, money, beauty, and then one moment’s insecurity let her in, and in earnest she let her lies flow.
When Ruby showed up, the dealmaker felt a rush of hatred and triumph, imagining how she would finally bring the other demon down, the only soul she’d ever won that she’d never broken. She had sniffed Ruby out at the first whiff, still savoring of her precious humanity. Ruby, whose black eyes were lies upon lies, whose faith had never been tainted. Ruby, who could so easily abase herself while relishing every bit of it.
Ruby groveled and the dealmaker reveled in it - at last, the win! Then the jolt of a knife slammed into the body - once, twice, thrice, and weakening, she slackened in the grip of a mere man. In a surge of panic she read the blade, the cascade of energies canceling her own: shocked, she recognized Azazel’s imprint, the afterimage of his wings flaring in her mind.
As even panic faded to a fluttering tremor, Ruby’s smile hovered before her eyes. The dealmaker dealt her one last curse and fell silent.
"Ruby Gives the Slip to the Dealmaker"
657 words.
Rated PG-13 for violence, the rack, canon character death.
Spoilers for 3.09, Malleus Maleficarum.
No pairings. Feat. the Tammi demon, Ruby, cameos by Alastair and Azazel.
The demon in Tammi was a dealmaker, and Ruby was her one that got away.
Demons grow to savor certain flavors. Some, like Alastair, favor pain, the singing nerves of excruciation like a symphony of torment to the torturer’s ear. Some, like Lilith, lean toward the appalling - the horror of a mother coming to loathe her own child, Lilith licking the tears off faces wrenched in agony as the beloved, delicate throat is throttled. Some, like the dealmakers, merely revel in the rush the mark feels when the deal seems less than airtight, the resultant panic when the net inexorably tightens.
This dealmaker knew the demon Ruby on the rack, knew her pretty well after all the time she’d spent with her. Cutting Ruby didn’t work, even though Alastair was a master with the knife: Ruby’s blood reminded her of her life, and she hung on by her fingernails, even after they were pulled off. Threatening Ruby only made her laugh. The dealmaker had put on the semblance of loved ones but Ruby never bought it. Even as Ruby’s soul was stained, her faith in the Lightbringer shone in her heart.
Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by eternal, never-ending day, Ruby still longed for the Lightbringer with every throb of her still-all-too-human heart, corrupted though it was by the rack.
Easily Ruby crawled, abased herself to the dealmaker, whimpering, Yes, my Lady-- but always her lip curled and laughter lingered in her voice. Ruby could still touch salt; she could say the name of God (though it sounded like Lucifer).
Eventually, the archlord Azazel appeared, savoring Ruby’s screams as Alastair plied his trade. Alastair leaned back, and Ruby panted for breath. With black eyes she glanced up at the powerful archdemon, pleading with him silently to pull the leather strap from between her teeth.
Azazel laughed, and bade the dealmaker do it. Grimacing, she took the bloody, bespittled thing and threw it down into the offal. Let her ask for it back when the pain ratcheted up, the dealmaker thought bitterly.
“Thank you, my lord.” The brazen thing had the nerve to speak, to meet the yellow eyes of the ancient One.
“You interest me, Ruby,” Azazel leered.
“May it please my lord,” Ruby replied, smiling slightly, lowering her eyes, black as midnight, black as she could will them now.
“You give me an idea,” the archlord said.
Ruby shuddered deliciously, and even the dealmaker had to admire her artifice. Any idea of the archfiend’s could only bode ill, but Ruby’s masochism was the stuff of Hell’s malicious, envious whispers.
Azazel raised Ruby’s tattered soul from the rack with his own hooks; as she screamed and writhed around him, he took her away. The dealmaker washed herself of Ruby’s humanity and her midnight faith - till sometime later, when the dealmaker talked her way into a body up Above. Intimations of power, money, beauty, and then one moment’s insecurity let her in, and in earnest she let her lies flow.
When Ruby showed up, the dealmaker felt a rush of hatred and triumph, imagining how she would finally bring the other demon down, the only soul she’d ever won that she’d never broken. She had sniffed Ruby out at the first whiff, still savoring of her precious humanity. Ruby, whose black eyes were lies upon lies, whose faith had never been tainted. Ruby, who could so easily abase herself while relishing every bit of it.
Ruby groveled and the dealmaker reveled in it - at last, the win! Then the jolt of a knife slammed into the body - once, twice, thrice, and weakening, she slackened in the grip of a mere man. In a surge of panic she read the blade, the cascade of energies canceling her own: shocked, she recognized Azazel’s imprint, the afterimage of his wings flaring in her mind.
As even panic faded to a fluttering tremor, Ruby’s smile hovered before her eyes. The dealmaker dealt her one last curse and fell silent.