"Welcome back, my Lord." Madame de Mons smiled.

It was the kind of smile that Cyril had seen on the old lady's face when they first met. All he wanted to do then was ask for directions. Did he know that the meeting would be fateful? Well, the lady with the dog certainly wasn't expecting such a twist.

Cyril began to approach, and the welcoming smile on her face was replaced by anticipation of passion. Madame de Mons quickly licked her dry lips and gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.

When Cyril came close to her, Madame de Mons had lost all her playfulness. She was shivering slightly, squeezing her thighs under her evening dress. Her saggy long ago breast was filled with blood, and her crotch was noticeably wet. Madame de Mons was panting and clutching the back of a chair with her other hand.

"No wonder my girls couldn't cope with you." She whispered, swallowing.

Cyril didn't say anything. He wanted to throw up at the sight of this woman. He wanted to take her gray hair in an intricate coiffure and smash her wrinkled nose against the edge of the table. Then turn, hit her mouth against the back of a chair to knock out the false teeth with the rest of the real ones. And only then to bend down and ask his question.

'Calm down, my friend.' Cyril whispered to himself, to ward off the urge.

Instead, Cyril held out his hand. Madame de Mons closed her eyes and held her breath. Did she wait for the touch of a naked man's caressing hand on her wrinkled cheeks? Cyril didn't think about it. He simply grabbed the old woman by the throat and lifted her off the floor, as he had done earlier in the basement.

Cyril acted as calmly as he could, but the desire to break the old woman's face and the feeling of his own strength did not pass without a trace. There was fire in his eyes again, and again Cyril didn't notice when he lost control.

The recently whimpering mongrel, which had grown to the size of a normal dog and was burning with the same fire as in Cyril's eyes, bared its teeth. The faithful animal wanted to protect its owner and growled. Cyril turned his head, looked the dog in the eye, and the Hellhound crouched in a corner.

"What's happening to me?" Cyril asked, turning back to the old lady.

"Don't you... understand?" Madame croaked.

Cyril held her tightly by the throat, but she could still speak.

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"My body lives on its own." Cyril whispered, trying not to get angry. "Even now it holds you, old woman, allowing me to speak. Recently, I could only growl."

"Your body... agh... It feels that I can't be killed... like other girls."

This time she spoke hoarsely, and caught the air in a choked throat. Madame de Mons could not breathe, but the trembling of her whole body, the sexual excitement, and the wild fear kept her from losing consciousness.

"What's wrong with me?" Cyril repeated, not letting Madame get up on the nearest chair.

"You..." She croaked, and her eyes widened. Her cheeks sagged, and her hands were haphazardly searching for support. "You're not human anymore…"

"Fuck you!" Cyril shouted, and squeezed his hand harder, feeling the blood pumping in the carotid artery beneath it.

'Body, calm.' He said to himself, and began to breathe evenly to loosen his grip. 'Don't kill her, she knows something.'

Cyril regained control and threw Madame against the wall. The old lady hit the back of her head and sank to the floor. Cyril exhaled as he realized that Madame de Mons was still alive.

He stared at her until she spoke again.

"You have a demon inside you." She said in a weak but confident voice. "Only our Lord had such a fire in his eyes. However... He left us a long time ago, so no one expected that he would return in such an unusual way."

Cyril threw a nearest chair to the other end of the room.

"Where the fuck are my clothes?" He shouted, his eyes flashing even more. "I'm fucking done with walking naked!"

Cyril could really think about the demon Lord later when he got dressed.

Madame de Mons followed the chair with a disdainful glance and turned to Cyril. At the mention of clothing, she involuntarily shifted her gaze from Cyril's face much lower.

He couldn't bear the thought of the old woman looking at him with lust. And although this lust was replaced by a semblance of pride, it did not make it any more pleasant.

Cyril was breathing hard, a growl in his throat. He didn't notice it, but his muscles had grown noticeably stronger over the past few days. Now he was clenching his fists and glaring at her.

"I'll get your clothes back! Calm down and listen, Cyril!" The lady shouted, still sitting on the floor. "Listen to me!"

"You shouldn't have screamed." Cyril said, and with a single bound he flew to Madame de Mons to seize her by the throat again. "I tried very hard to be calm, bitch."

He squeezed her wrinkled throat hard, watching with maniacal joy as she tried to push his hand away.

"How could this demon come into me?" Cyril hissed.

"I don't know." Madame croaked. "Agh…"

He squeezed harder and let go a little. This is how cats squeeze a mouse between their teeth.

"As long as you give in to anger and base instincts." Madame said in a husky voice. "He takes advantage on you and breaks out. He is strong... agh.. He has always been strong and he wants to completely take over your body and rule the world. That's what he always wanted."

"How do you know?" Cyril growled.

"I was his wife." Madame de Mons said. "Your wife, Amon."

"Bitch." Cyril said, and let go of her throat. He took a few steps back and sat down on a chair.

Cyril was breathing hard. His body refused to hold her throat as soon as he heard the name. Suddenly, Cyril felt a wave of fatigue, and he leaned back in his chair.

'So I did fuck this Madam.' He thought, and then laughed at the thought. It was a nervous laugh, but it proved that Cyril was still human. 'So what, body, can I call you Amon now?'

He shot a quick glance at Madame, who was massaging her throat and breathing deeply. Cyril wiggled his fingers and toes and smiled. The body was at his mercy again.

"I don't want to become a demon." He said to Madame de Mons in a calm, tired tone. "I wanna find a way to die."

"Amon will not allow it to you. He'll be looking for a way out." The woman replied.

The fire hound turned back into a dog and snuggled up to its owner. Madame stroked the dog and whispered.

"Easy, Goldie. Mom's fine, just had a quarrel with dad."

"How did I end up in this world?" Cyril called again. "Where did I get the demon inside me?"

"I don't know." She shrugged.

"Who knows?"

"I don't know."

Madame de Mons continued to rub the dog's ears and turned away from Cyril. She was sitting on the floor, and the once proud, lustful mistress was left a lonely, unhappy woman. The conversation reached a dead end.

"Get me some clothes." Cyril said, turning and grabbing a chicken leg from the table.