It turned out that a band of bandits weren’t that big a threat after all. At least not when you were one luck incubus pushed by extreme pressure. Stress seemed to be just what his body needed to send his pheromones into overdrive, and gods know the humans loved his pheromones. They’d succumbed to it one after the other, the entire camp falling apart into a writhing mess before night fell upon them. After that it became a race of endurance, one Cain was vastly more suited for than your average mortal man.

By the time dawn arrived the bandits were no more and Cain had plenty of clothing and armor to pick from. He picked most of the leader’s set, that being the dark leather and fur. It didn’t fit his thinner frame as well as it had the lean leader, but some adjustments had it sitting just well enough to not look too ridiculous. A plain shirt pilfered from a corpse not fully eaten worked well enough to fill the chest piece out. The red stains were almost perfectly hidden by the armor. Cain was glad the man hadn’t worn the armor when things got going. Eating things not human, like armor, made him feel… not so good. His corrosive pheromones could dissolve most organic matter, but that didn’t mean absorbing it was good for him. Cain resolved to always get his victims naked before eating them in the future.

He’d also found out that he could over eat. And that opening his wings mid feeding was messy business. Without the cocoon made by his wings surrounding his victims the half dissolved body would just drip out. The nasty sludge that was their remains lost all their appeal as food the second Cain got out of his feeding trance. As a result the ruins of Raan had gotten… Messy. While he couldn’t possibly eat all of the bandits, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let any survive. He’d needed a nap after eating so much and being stabbed by a survivor once the pheromones wore off wasn’t his idea of a good time.

The sight of the sludge and the less melted corpses made him shudder in disgust. Right, he shouldn’t stay here anymore. There was nothing pleasant left to be had from this place. Once he got out of the ruins he noticed that his surroundings had changed. Perhaps lured in by the carnage of one human eating demon let loose on a band of bandits, the Pines had started creeping in to surround the fallen town. Even now he could see some shrubs slowly using their roots to crawl around. Give it an hour or less and the ruins would be fully surrounded by the forest. Cain broke into a run.

Fleeing the encroaching forest took the demon back to the road towards Harwall. His lungs burned as he pushed himself to crest a small hill. Damned spooky forests. Cain could do without them after seeing just how destructive their tempers could be. If he’d known Telrind would throw a hissy fit in the shape of a lake bound tsunami then he just might have stayed with the creature until Rowan figured out where to find a boat. Seeing the ground itself heave and roil like a frenzied beast was enough to make Cain lose his trust in anything plant or water like. His grumbling coupled with the veil of exhaustion dulling his focus made him spot the humans way too late.

He was halfway down the small hill when he noticed the road up ahead was occupied. Deja vú washed over him as he heard a horse neigh and saw the riders on their backs. The feeling passed as he noticed that these folks weren’t bandits. As startled as they were by a man suddenly come running at them out of nowhere, they didn’t react like the bandits had. There was no roar to catch him or meaningful displays of weaponry to tell hims just how fucked he was this time.

Instead a man in travel-worn but otherwise well kept metal armor rode up to him. The man looked confused, a little bit startled, and a whole lot suspicious.

“Halt! Who goes there?!” The armored man yelled. Cain waved. It felt like the right thing to do. He got a tentative wave back. Success!

“A traveler from Harwall! My name’s Cain!”

The man reached him by the time Cain made his introduction. There was still some wariness in the air, but the man seemed to have relaxed a bit once he got closer. Cain wasn’t sure what he’d expected of him.

“Greetings. I’m Anton. You headed away from Harwall? It’s dangerous to go alone.”

Cain was given a look of some kind. Concern? Suspicion? A mix of both most likely. Cain realized that traveling alone was apparently a strange thing. Appearing strange when pretending to be human was no good. He willed his pheromones to spread into the air. Not enough to arouse the man or anything like that, he wasn’t hunting. No, what he wanted was just a tiny bit of trust. To make the man relax, calm down, don’t think about things. Cain noted how the man relaxed further, no longer looking ready to turn his horse around and flee. Speaking of- the horse was reacting too… That wasn’t the plan. Cain tried his very best not to show any sign of noticing the horse’s nostrils flare. It leaned a bit closer. Cain took a step back. The rider remained oblivious.

“Back to it actually.” A flash of inspiration hit Cain. “The lake and forest fought it out yesterday. I made my distance and waited it out like anyone wise ought to do. I was just making my way back now.”

“Ah, I see.” The half-lie went home smoothly. Anton waved for him to follow him back to the caravan. “Please, join us then. Was it a bad fight?”

Cain smiled and obliged, already fishing his memory of details to share that wouldn’t reveal his role in it all. He also did his best to ignore how the horse was trying to sway closer to him with every step. Pheromones worked stronger on animals, noted. Thankfully Anton keep his reigns held firmly. Any attempts to go off-course was corrected with a quick tug. He probably suspect the horse wanted to grace. There was plenty of grass surrounding the humble road.

“It was dramatic at the very least. The lake threw itself around and the forest hurled trees.” Cain waved his hands about as he described the fight.

“Which one?” Anton asked.

“Uh- Oh, I’m uh, not sure which one started it. The other one joined in as soon as the tremors started. Hard to tell which forest threw which tree at who.” Cain shrugged and smiled helplessly. Anton chuckled.

“Fair fair. It must have been a terrifying sight. Perhaps us getting delayed by that troll hill was a streak of luck after all.”

Images of large, moving hills with massive limbs hidden beneath it all like some kind of deformed turtle flashed through Cain’s mind. A memory that wasn’t his. He shuddered despite being grateful for the flash of information.

“Was it a big one?” He asked. Anton nodded seriously. They reached the rest of the riders and the few people that were on foot. Cain saw wagons with canvas roofs and insides stocked with crates and barrels. There was a faint smell of grain to the air around the travelers.

“Huge, probably a older adult. It didn’t show any interest in us but we kept our distance just to be safe. We would have made a run for it if it was any smaller.”

“How come?” Cain couldn’t help but ask. He got a odd look for it, then to his great relief, a chuckle.

“You a southerner? Troll hills are pretty common up here.”

“You could say that. I didn’t really pay attention to the details. They’re dangerous yea? I kept my distance.”

“I sense a pattern I think.” Anton chuckled again. The other travelers showed Cain some polite curiosity. He greeted a few. Anton kept going.

“Smaller ones are more dangerous than the big ones. They’re young and energic. Haven’t gathered as much dirt and stuff on their backs yet so they’re fast too. And bold. The larger adults get lazy and settled for catching anything drawn to their hills. They rarely give chase. I guess it’s something they grow out of as they get older.”

Cain listened curiously. The whispers only knew so much and as usual their input was a mess of conflicting voices all vying for attention. Anton seemed far better at explaining. He also seemed to like the attention of a curious listener. A few of the other travelers groaned, a sign that this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into lecturing about something.

“Interesting. I haven’t seen any near Harwall. How come?”

“Too far north. I don’t think guardians like them much. They tend to keep off each other’s paths.”

“Ah, so Harwall having 3 around it probably discouraged them.”

“My thought exactly.” Anton nodded.

“I can see Harwall!” Someone’s shout made the rest of the caravan look up from their own conversations.

And just as they’d said, in the distance there was sign of civilization. And activity. Even from where the caravan was Cain could see movement. The area looked rugged from the guardian fight but now the locals had gotten to cleaning the mess up. Debris was being hauled off to either discarded or used. Mostly used. The guardians’ quick tempers had seen plenty of wood and stone and other smaller things tossed back and forth. While some had crushed or broken houses, the rest simply lay around in small craters of their own, ready to be collected by people that saw better uses for them. Nature broke and damaged the town, but it also provided materials to repair with, even if unintentionally.

The topics of chatter when focused, most turning into sighs of relief that their destination was finally within reach. Despite the busy time after the fight there was still a pair of guards posted at the gate. The caravan turned out to be a welcome surprise with them bringing valuable materials and goods from the south. They were waved through eagerly without much of a inspection and got sent to the plaza.

The heart of Harwall had fared a little bit better than the more crowded streets. The open stretch of ground reserved for market stalls meant that few buildings had suffered from the debris hitting it, thus making the place a lot easier to clean up. The caravan rolled in with their horses and wagons without much issue. Cain marveled at the destruction that had swept over the town, and at how much of it was already taken care of. The settlers worked fast. It was either that or to get overrun by nature after all.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

People noticed the caravan as the riders dismounted and the others started opening up the wagons. Within minutes the first stall was up and people ran back and forth moving the appropriate goods to store in it. Mostly everyday necessities that one could survive without. The things people would flock to buy. And indeed, the inhabitants of the settlement were already crowding around it, some overly eager voices rising up to claim a bundle of candles or cloth or other sought after items.

Things of a more public use like nails, timber, ore, and various other tools were left alone in a uncovered wagon, waiting for the mayor and her ilk to come pick out what was going to go where.

It was a flurry of organized chaos that Cain watched with great curiosity. Soon most of the town gravitated towards the plaza. It became the center of activity just as much as the broken buildings had been for the workers just an hour ago. Cain spotted a familiar head of dark dreadlocks making its way through the buzz of people. Rowan noticed him too after a moment, mostly because Cain allowed a bit more of his pheromones to seep into the air.

The artist’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the intoxicating scent. Cani thought he might have seen his eyes flash brightly for a moment before he reigned himself back in. Rowan spotted him near one of the wagons and made to approach, but a gnarled hand latched onto his arm before he could get very far. Cain watched as the older woman the hand belonged to spun the much larger man around to face her. Even at a distance Cain could see how Rowan paled at the sight of her.

She didn’t look like much to the demon. Just a human with grey in her dark hair and equally pale eyes. She dragged the artist off from the crowd and made for a street. Cain followed them of course. Him disappearing from the plaza went unnoticed by pretty much everyone. After all, he wasn’t part of the caravan and as such had no duties to tend to. Just another face in the crowd.

Past houses both broken and whole the pair and their follower went, until the greying lady pulled Rowan into a surprisingly intact building. Cain waited until they were fully inside before he slipped over to the one window the small house had. Just as he was about to peek inside a flash of pain hit his hands. He’d reached to put them on the windows sill, just idly resting them there, but a searing pain stinged his fingers the moment they made contact. He pulled them back with a startled hiss and stared down at the unassuming wood in bewilderment. What was that?

He saw nothing special about the windows sill. Nothing at all. He tried touching it again. Pain. It was worse than the sound of the priest’s metal coins. Hot and burning and just the worst thing ever. Cain grimaced in disgust. What was making it act like that? Hesitantly he bent down to check beneath it.

A trio of silvery metal coins with nails through their middles had been hammered into the underside of the windows sill. They seemed to distort the air around them as Cain glared, a subtle sign of warning that the demon shouldn’t touch them. The voices in his head whispered furiously about it. A ward! A barrier! A vile little curse to keep him out. Painful metal binding safety to a home. Cain bared his teeth in offense at it. How dare she!?

With a grunt he stood back up again, only to flinch as he noticed the no longer unoccupied window. Two yellow eyes glared daggers at him right behind the window’s frame. A shiver ran through Cain’s skin as he met the rooster’s stare. Something wasn’t right with it. The bird kept glaring. Cain hesitated, then wariness turned to offense. Affronted the demon glared back. What did this glorified feather duster think it had on him huh?

The rooster burred up its feathers, mostly around its neck. Cain spread his pheromones into the air to meet the challenge. He heard an oath as something fell over inside the building.

“Herman! You’re no damn cat! Don’t you dare drag whatever it is you found in here- Rowan, where are you going?”

The older woman’s yell snapped Cain out of his staring contest with the mean looking rooster. He craned his neck to see through the window but curtains kept him from seeing much past the rooster. The bird suddenly jumped down and out of sight as a irritated Margret appeared in the window. She pulled the curtains aside to look out, then glared in confusion at the equally confused demon standing outside it.

“Who’re you and why are you peeping into my home? Shoo!” Margret waved her hands at Cain.

“That’s Cain!” Rowan’s voice came from inside. Margret paused.

“The lake boy? How in the world did you get out? Get in here.”

Margret disappeared from the window and reappeared by the door, holding it open while waving for Cain to hurry up. She looked stressed. Cain threw a wary glance at the windows sill. Was the door warded too?

“I uh…”

Margret narrowed her eyes at Cain. “Two? Two in one day? Ilo have mercy on me. Wait there.”

Before Cain could comment she disappeared back inside the building again. This time he heard her fiddling with something close to the door then- A wave of static seemed to flutter around the entire building. Cain stepped back in alarm, feeling the fine hairs on his arms rise. Margret reappeared in the door and urged him inside once more. Despite the voices screaming at him not to follow her he did. Curiosity won over self preservation once more.

The inside of Margret’s house was cluttered but cozy. Shelves covered most walls, they themselves being covered in jars and boxes of all sorts of origin. Herbs hung on their own or as bundles from the ceiling beams, the walls, and some lay on the counter in the back of the room. A set of sofa and couches huddled in front of a dark fireplace. Rowan sat in the sofa, head in his hands and a tenseness to his shoulders that Cain vaguely recognized. Then he realized that his pheromones were probably the cause for the werewolf’s struggling. He quickly reigned them in and saw Rowan relax as a result. Margret eyed them both with suspicion.

“Not one, but two changelings in my house. At the same time. One I brought myself but the redhead is new. How did you escape the lake man?”

Cain started. She knew? No no that wasn’t good. “I’m not-”

“Save the excuses, boy. My rooster is a snitch and you’re poor at hiding your reactions. The ward shouldn’t sting that badly. Did you think this building was sound proof?”

Cain closed his mouth again. His thoughts whirled. Margret just stared at him… then she sighed.

“Forgive me for snapping. It’s been a harsh few days. Sit down why don’t you?”

She waved at the sofa vaguely then reached up to massage her forehead. She looked tired, worn. Rowan went stiff as Cain sat down next to him. The demon watched in mild amusement as the werewolf tried to both scoot away and scoot in closer to him at the same time. He probably still smelled of that magical allure, despite having stopped his body from releasing the pheromones any further. Margret blew air through her nose.

“What’s the matter with you?” She asked Rowan. The artist buried his face into his hands a bit more.

“He smells,” he said. Cain turned to scowl at him.

“I don’t smell.”

“You smell.” Rowan insisted. Margret sighed.

“Just what manner of creature did you befriend… Cain was it? What are you?”

“Human.” The answer came on pure instinct. Margret repeated her question.

“What are you, Cain?”

Silence.

“I could start tossing things at you until we see what stings and what doesn’t. I should have a stake somewhere around here…”

“Incubus.” Cain blurted out as Margret turned towards the counter to search for things to ‘test’ him with. A mirthless but victorious smirk spread on her face as she turned back to him.

“Curious. Are you part of the Sisterhood?”

Cain frowned. The voices at the back of his head whispered urgently but no solid conclusion was had. They didn’t know.

“What’s that?”

“Then you’re not. Though… Hmm, they might object if I…” Margret grew quiet as she reached out and grabbed Rowan by the back of his neck. The artist had leaned closer to Cain all of a sudden but Margret pushed him back in his seat. He had a blank look on his face. His pupils had grown too small, making the yellow iris look far too big for a human’s eye. They reverted to their normal look as Rowan blinked them several times.

“Maybe you should sit in a couch instead,” she said. Cain took one more look at the distracted werewolf and decided that yes, maybe he should sit a bit further away indeed. Rowan relaxed a bit as he did.

“So, we got a werewolf with poor self control, angry guardians, and a walking talking drug demon. My what a mess.” Margret kept hovering behind the sofa, not quite trusting Rowan to keep himself under control with the demon present. What a mess indeed.

“You both realise that being found out will get you killed, right?” Margret looked seriously at them. Both changelings sat up a bit straighter at that, worry written on their face. Mostly on Rowan’s. Memories of previous mistakes haunted him way worse than the events of Cains by far shorter time alive. The fact that he could feel guilt also added to the tip in scales. It was also Rowan that answered first.

“I didn’t mean to… shift, in your home. I’m sorry… Please don’t tell anyone?” The pleading look he gave Margret made her purse her lips. Of all the people to be the werewolf… She knew what she should do about it… But… Margret gave his shoulder a pat.

“I know, I know. But that’s not the biggest issue here. I can’t say this in any kinder words, Rowan. You’re a danger to everyone in this town.” She gave him another pat, as if that would somehow help. His eyes were despairing.

She knew what she should do about him. Sneak poison into the things he ate. Tell the mayor and get their most skilled hunters to sneak into his home at night. Hope he didn’t wake up. Grieve but know that nothing else could have been done.

Except that maybe it could…

Margret looked sharply at Cain. The demon startled at the look. He wrung his hands nervously as she stared, thinking. Maybe, just maybe... She could use this.

“How long have you known each other?”

Both men blinked at her question. There was an intensity to the witch’s gaze. She had an idea. Half formed, but an idea.

“A… few days? Maybe?” Rowan answered hesitantly, unsure himself. It felt like ages ago that he met the demon. Cain just shrugged. Margret went on.

“Do you know what your… smell was it? What it does to him?” Cain frowned at the question. Meanwhile Rowan’s face went red as a beet. He sputtered in an attempt to hush Cain before he could answer, but the demon refused to be shushed.

“He falls for it even more than humans do,” Cain said. Rowan made a strangled noise.

“Does he get violent?”

“Erh… Yea. But it’s not too bad. I heal quickly.”

“Hm…” Margret put a finger to her lips and thought. Rowan was staring intently at a wall, face red. Herman hopped in front of Cain’s leg before he could nudge Rowan’s foot with it. Damn demon couldn’t resist teasing the poor werewolf. This could get ugly. Neither struck Margret as people with good self control, which was a vital part of what she was planning. No, this plan would need some tweaking. Margret eyed her shelves of supplies while Cain and Herman hissed at each other.

“How long until you need to turn again, Rowan?”

The artist paused his attempt at lifting his legs up into the sofa and out of the way of the increasingly more fluffed up rooster.

“Ah- a month? I can usually go a month without… Could you stop them, please?” Rowan gave the duo staring each other down a meaningful nod. Herman was fury and feathers and had started making a rumbling sound that Rowan did not like. Cain was just staring back, eyes flashing green while he leaned forwards precariously on the edge of the couch. Margret looked at them both then raised her voice in a sharp “SHOO! Stop that!” She clapped her hands together for good measure and both idiots sunk back down with a wince. Margret cleared her throat.

“Right. Finish that toy boat for me, Rowan then I’ll get to work on some things. We’ll keep quiet about your curse for now. I might have an idea on how to limit your wolf’s rampages. And Cain, for the love of everything holy, stop picking on my rooster.”

Cain gave Margret a stunned look of offense and sputtered. Herman looked smugger than any bird had any right to ever look. Margret ignored both reactions and gave Rowan’s shoulder another friendly pat. He too was blinking at her.

“What do you-” he started. Margret interrupted him.

“It’s an idea, an idea. If you don’t trust it then I’d advise you in looking for a new place to settle in. If not then go finish that boat. We won’t last another tantrum if Telrind decides to get impatient.”

Objections were had but Margret listened to none of it. Instead she went to work shooing both men out of her house so she could start working on the real project. She’d need quite a bit of time and thinking before she set this ball rolling. Once she got both of the changelings back out into the street she went to set her demon ward back up. Cain might have been docile enough, but the witch knew from experience that there were far worse creatures of his kind out there looking for ways into a magi’s home. She would not stand for another imp infestation in her larder again. Those little gremlins could well settled for normal food instead of gnawing up her magical roots and rocks.

Once done she went over to the sofa set, laboured over the fireplace until gentle orange was licking the greyed stone work and then finally she got to sit down in peace in her favorite couch. Herman went to sit on her lap as usual, but to her dismay the rooster didn’t settle down to nap at once. Instead he stared at her face as if she’d forgotten something.

“What?”

“...”

Margret frowned. What did he want? She hadn’t- Then it dawned upon her. Herman settled down as Margret went to stare at the fireplace, a troubled frown creasing her features.

“....Fuck. Incubi eat people.”