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eBook by Wayne Mansfield
eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
eBook Description: Didn't your mother ever tell you not to tell lies? Nathan Crosby has a problem. His gambling addiction is bad enough, but when he tries to run out on newcomer, Leroy, in a back room poker game his troubles really begin. As he hurries into the back alley behind Ruby's Bar he is certain that his lies have saved him from paying a debt he cannot afford. But Leroy is not all he appears to be. Nor does he have any intention of letting Nathan off the hook. Instead, he has a unique way of extracting what he is owed. And the payment will be larger than the debt. Excerpt: "What are we going to do with you?" Leroy asked. "Let me go," replied Nathan hopefully. "It was a rhetorical question," snapped Leroy. "I already know what I'm going to do with you." Nathan licked his lips and swallowed. "Who are you? What are you going to do with me?" The creature that had once been Leroy snickered. "I'm someone you should never have crossed. As to what I'm going to do to youâ?¦" He stepped behind Nathan and clamped the palm of his hand to the top of Nathan's head. At the point where flesh met flesh, Leroy's nails extended into talons that hooked into Nathan's scalp, locking the two men together. "Since you're so fond of telling stories, so fond of those fantasies that little brain of yours is constantly manufacturing for gain and pleasure, I suggest we get them all out in the open." From the darkness there was a scuffing sound, like dozens of tiny feet hurrying towards him. Nathan's blood froze. His eyes darted backwards and forwards across the shadows for the first sign of movement. His wait was not a long one. The tiny feet carried tiny grey bodies with distended bellies and when they drew nearer he could see a multitude of oversized eyes staring up at him from gaunt, grey faces and dozens of thin black lips displaying cruel smirks. They couldn't have been more than fifteen centimetres tall, and each of their bony, clawed hands gripped a knife with an exotic blade and a keen edge. Nathan began to struggle against the hand that held him tight, but there were other forces at work. "What are you doing to me?" he cried. There was no reply. The creatures leapt onto him, using their tools to slash through his clothing until it fell away from him in shredded ribbons. Even his shoes, of leather and rubber, were made short work of as was his dark brown hair. Locks of it swept down over his face and back, tickling before skating off his body and landing in feathery piles on the floor.
eBook Publisher: Eternal Press/Damnation Books LLC/Damnation Books, Published: 2012, 2012
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2012
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The creature crouched amongst the rotting flesh and fungal blooms of the catacombs. Tortured cries and bestial growls echoed up through the tunnels from the lower levels where horrors the human mind was incapable of comprehending were being visited upon captured souls. Xoatyl sat back on his haunches with his twin phalluses hanging down between his legs, a good third of their length lying against the ground. His senses were honed for the slightest sign of company. Dark shapes soaring just below the glistening rock of the ceiling cast great shadows that swept across the space beneath, though they couldn't break Xoatyl's concentration. He'd wait until the inferno his home was famous for to die out before he gave up his determined vigil.
A creature the size of a mouse, all scale and tooth, scurried across his feet and over one of his cocks. Xoatyl skewered him with a claw and deposited the tiny morsel into his mouth. With a single crunch it was gone. In this fashion he was able to keep hunger at bay.
A stirring in the mists swirling and eddying just above the bone-covered floor caught his attention. This was no lower-life form; this was a creature shorter in stature but larger in size, a monstrosity of festering sores and matted hair. It ambled into view with its dozen eyes directed on the way ahead.
Several subordinate creatures scampered and yapped around its bulk. As Xoatyl watched one of their number was crushed by the sheer weight of its master, leaving it no more than a smudge on the ground.
Xoatyl curled his black top lip and rumbled a low growl from the back of his throat. The sound drew the attention of the monster.
"Baaleel! I knew if I waited long enough we'd meet again."
Baaleel's entourage surged forward, hissing and snapping at Xoatyl.
Xoatyl swept the first of the ranks away with a wide lunge of his massive arm, sending them tumbling head over claw into the shadows.
"A...And what a p...pleasant surprise it is," stuttered Baaleel.
Xoatyl began to circle the heir to the throne of Hell. He made a dramatic sniffing sound and chuckled.
"Come now, Baaleel. I can smell your fear. You reek of it!"
Baaleel snarled. A thick string of dark-grey saliva oozed from between his cracked and jagged teeth.
Xoatyl grinned. There was a flash of burning flame in his eyes. Without warning he lunged at Baaleel, causing him to recoil. The monster's minions surged forward again, making a show of protecting their master. Alas, they were not quite up to the challenge of accomplishing the task.
Having regained his composure, Baaleel opened his mouth and emitted a deep gurgling sound.
"You'd be unwise to try anything, Xoatyl."
Xoatyl leaned in until his face was centimeters from Baaleel's. The stench from his mouth was nauseating even for one who dwelt in the pit.
"I won't be trying," Xoatyl replied. "Surely you didn't expect to double-cross me and get away with it? I don't care who your father is. Souls are hard to come by when there are so many hunting for them."
Baaleel continued gurgling as Xoatyl came full circle.
"I told you I would present your harvest to my father. Did I not do exactly that?" Baaleel asked.
"You also told him it was you who harvested them!"
"I did not!"
Xoatyl glared at Baaleel, the flame flashing in his eyes once again. "No, you didn't, nor did you tell him where you got them from. When he assumed they were yours you did nothing to amend the error. I spent centuries gathering souls, working long and hard so I could be promoted. You, you worthless shit-pile, took away any chance I had in minutes."
The army of midget creatures surged forward but this time Xoatyl meant business. He raised a foot and slammed it down with enough force to shake the ground. Whatever he didn't crush scampered into the shadows.
"I'd be very careful if I were--"
Baaleel didn't get the opportunity to finish his sentence. With one swipe of his mighty clawed hand Xoatyl opened the monster's throat. He struck again and inflicted a deeper wound. The reddish-grey tissue of Baaleel's throat spilled out over his bulk and collected on the floor by his feet in a glistening mess. A third slash severed the neck to the bone. Baaleel's head was so large and heavy that the few muscles and ligaments attaching it to the body snapped. The bloodied mass hit the ground. The scavengers immediately came scampering and slithering out of hiding to feast on the unexpected meal.
Xoatyl stepped back and allowed them passage.
Larger creatures from above swooped down to pick at the flesh of the dead royal, their lightly furred bodies soon becoming dark with spilled blood.
A fitting end to a pompous fool, thought Xoatyl.
For several minutes he watched, mesmerized, as a swarming congregation of fur, skin, and scale slowly picked clean the grey bones of Baaleel. His reverie was shattered, however, by an agonized roar tearing through the slurping, snarling, chewing sounds of feasting. Several of the creatures looked up from their meal, temporarily distracted, before continuing their feeding frenzy.
Xoatyl knew it was only a matter of time before Baaleel's body was discovered. He had no choice but to flee. He was no match for Satan's wrath and to stay would be foolish. There would not be death--nothing as pleasant as that. The Dark Prince would invent new tortures to punish him with; unceasing torments that would last the rest of eternity.
A second roar reverberated through the tunnel sending everything that could move speeding into the nearest cracks and shadowy corners. Xoatyl, determined not to be held accountable for his sin, turned on his heels and headed for the upper levels.
He ran along one corridor after another, winding his way toward the world of humans and animals. Racing through the outer circles of Hell he encountered demons of many kinds terrorizing freshly ensnared souls. He passed demons preparing for the journey to the world above, trance-like as they pinpointed those people whose religious beliefs were strong enough to attract them. Xoatyl laughed to himself as he thought about the world of humans. Their prayers to an absent God were like beacons to those who dwelt in this netherworld.
Soon the stench of the world above grew strong in his nostrils. He was close to the border. Once he was free and clear of Hell he'd be out of Satan's reach. There would be soldiers--demons from the Fallen One's own personal guard--but they were no match for Xoatyl. He knew their strength and power, but better still he knew their weaknesses. He would dispatch them just as easily as he had Baaleel.
Later, when things settled down, he'd find a quiet corner of Hell to shelter in. That would be how he'd endure his exile on the Earth plane.