CHAPTER 11

The mote of light rose off Sophia’s hands and illuminated the cosy interior of her home. “I’m back…” she whispered.

She had been gone only a week, but it felt like so much more. So much had happened, none of it good. She almost expected to find her modest cottage burned down. But everything was exactly as she had left it: the practical furniture, her bookshelf of scriptures, the neatly organised writing desk, the soft rug in front of the chimney, and the small painting of her parents set on the mantel.

“Is this your home? It’s very pretty and clean.”

Well, everything was almost as she had left it.

Sophia did not remember the house including a seven-foot-tall barbarian with skin so black she disappeared in the dark and thighs so muscular their girth surpassed that of Sophia’s abdomen.

The priestess dourly watched Sam explore her privacy without a hint of politeness or consideration. The demon had dropped her huge backpack outside the door, not seeming at all worried about it. Not that it would be at any risk inside the Temple, but ordinary outsiders would not act so casually. Sophia had to admit she was curious about its content herself.

Shaking her head, she crossed the house to her backyard. She was parched after her eulogy speech and presenting her condolences to each of the grieving families—parched and drained. Could someone get dehydrated from crying too much? She would have wrestled Sam for a cup of water.

Thankfully, while being Assistant High Priestess did not grant many housing privileges, a private well was one. High Priestess, she corrected. She was assistant no more. Though her title would remain empty until she returned to the Temple in nine months. Nine months, at the soonest… The thought was sobering.

Carrying her bucket back inside, Sophia found Sam by the chimney. The demon turned to her. “Who are they?” She had picked the small painting off the mantel.

“Don’t!” Sophia rushed to snatch it from her hands. “…Don’t touch it.” Clutching the frame, she frowned reproachfully at the demon, then lowered her gaze to the smiling couple.

Her finger longingly traced the woman’s chin.

People often compared their faces, saying Sophia was the portrait of her mother. She disagreed. Her mother was far more beautiful. But she did have her father’s blue-grey eyes. Eyes like a troubled sea, her grandma would say. Her freckles also came from her father. Her mother had been nearly as fair as their goddess—of course without matching Rachiel’s otherworldly pallor.

She set the painting back down. “They’re my parents.”

“They look kind.”

“What would you know of Kindness?” Sophia snapped, then quickly sighed. “I apologise. That was uncalled for. It’s been a tiring few days.”

“Apology accepted, milady.” That earned the demon a weird glance, to which Sam shrugged. “I did listen to Aunt Gabby’s etiquette lessons… sometimes. Okay, I copied Janik,” she quickly admitted, scratching her temple awkwardly.

Sophia could not repress a snort. How this implacable murder machine could act so much like a mischievous teenager at times was beyond her.

“Where are they?”

Sophia sighed—again. She would have to adjust to the demon’s ignorance of the word “tact”.

“They’re dead,” she said, meeting Sam’s gaze squarely. Her voice was flat. She was not usually so callous about it; but after the evening she just had, her emotions felt burned out.

Sophia at first intended to leave her response at that, but something in the demon’s amber eyes seemed to pull more out of her. “Father was a fisherman… He was lost at sea when I was two. I don’t really remember him. Mama was a priestess and a healer. She died ten years ago from overexerting her magic on a pregnant woman. The delivery was going badly. The mother and child almost died, but Mama saved them.” A chokehold of grief she did not think she had left in clamped on her throat. To cover it up, she filled a cup from the bucket and slowly drunk out of it. The cool water helped.

Unwilling to continue dwelling into bad memories, she switched the focus onto Sam. “What about you? You spoke only of your father and aunt. What about your mother?”

“I don’t know.” The demon shrugged carelessly. “Never had one.”

“You don’t?” said Sophia, then she muttered to herself, “Wait, do demons have parents?”

“I imagine they do. I have Father.”

“No, I mean…” She spun her fingers thoughtfully. “Maybe you do not need two parents as mortal do? You’re supposed to be almost spirits, physical manifestations of sin… I never truly thought about it, but I guess I imagined your kind just faded into existence? How do demons even reproduce? That must have been documented somewhere…” Sophia took her cup to her lips, frowning and losing herself in strange theological considerations.

“Well, we fuck.”

The mouthful Sophia had just drunk was spat right out.

“Sam!”

“What? It’s true!”

“But you’re not supposed to say it like that!”

“Why?”

“B-B-B-Because!” A deep crimson blush was rapidly creeping up on Sophia’s cheek. “It’s crude! …And unwomanly!”

“It’s unwomanly to tell the truth?”

“No!” The priestess dragged a hand over her face. “You can’t say fff– can’t say fff-f– You just don’t say it!”

“But what do I say instead? It is what it is.” The demon looked utterly lost.

Meanwhile, Sophia was turning into a tomato. “Y-Y-Y-Y-You’re s-supposed to say ‘m-make l-lo-love’ if it is with someone you cherish. Or call it ‘having s-s-s-s-sex’ at least!”

“Ah. I know that one.”

“I hope you do! Who even taught you those things?!”

“My friend Dee.” Sam nodded seriously. “She knows a lot, though not as much as Aunt Gabby.”

“What else did this Dee teach you?” Sophia almost did not want to hear the answer, but a morbid curiosity compelled her.

“Well, she taught me…” The big woman then went on listing words and acts that might have successfully caused even Sophia’s grandmother to fan herself. Each new item turned the young priestess’ face a notch redder and closer to self-combustion. She had to sit down.

“That woman is a demon!” she finally interrupted, slamming her cup down.

“Yes?” Sam tilted her head.

The priestess’s face blanked. “Ah. No. Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment there.”

“Apology accepted?”

Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really can’t tell if you’re weirdly innocent or messing with me. Did you… attempt any of these… these… things?” Sam opened her mouth, but Sophia’s hand shot up.

“No! No. Don’t answer. I don’t want to know. And here I was starting to believe you had a shred of decency. I don’t know why, really. You’re a demon. What was I thinking? What were you thinking, Sophia? She’s a demon! Hah! A demon! In my house!” Her voice was beginning to sound a tad hysterical.

“Well, I guess I was deluding myself because I wanted to– Look.” She abruptly sat straighter, clasping her hands together. Her steely gaze bored into the bewildered demon. “Or rather, listen, Sam. If we are to travel together, you will have to watch out what you say and what you do. I will not tolerate any killing, raping, stealing, or any otherwise violent, unlawful, reprehensible, or wanton behaviours! Do I make myself abundantly clear?!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“No.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

The demon crouched in front of Sophia’s armchair, bringing their gazes level. She was grinning, as usual, but the smile had a malicious edge to it which was never there before. Even against the bandits, she had looked hungry, never… evil.

Sophia was suddenly reminded acutely of their difference in size and strength. Sam’s muscular bulk seemed to expand to take up Sophia’s entire field of vision, blocking off the floating light. She could see nothing else. Up close, even the demon’s throat looked packed with power. Sophia swallowed anxiously.

Not a week ago, the priestess would have felt confident nothing could harm her inside the Temple. In light of recent revelations, she was not so sure anymore.

“What would you do,” the demon said, still grinning sadistically, “if I said ‘no’? You’ve been ordering me around the entire day, and I’ve been going along with it. But.” The demon leaned forwards. Their faces were almost touching. Her deep voice dropped again, lowered to a bare murmur. “What if I said… ‘no’?”

Sophia whimpered. Pressed against the back of her armchair, she felt like a mouse in the clutches a tiger. The demon’s hot breath blew against her face. It smelled strangely of charcoal and smoke, she noticed.

“Pfff.” Then Sam burst out laughing. “Hahahahaha!”

Sophia’s world lurched, and suddenly she was sitting on the demon’s ample lap. And Sam had stolen her seat, which groaned under the strain. “Hahahaha! You’re so adorable when you make that face! I couldn’t resist.” She was hugging Sophia to her chest like a plush toy. The priestess’ face was pushed into a plump softness inconsistent with the rest of the demon’s rock-solid body.

She tried hard not to think too deeply about it—or at all.

Sophia fought vainly against the embrace that was as steady as iron locks. “No! Stop– This is exactly what I was talking about with the wanton behaviour!”

Sam only laughed more and hugged her tighter, going as far as rubbing her cheek against Sophia’s scalp while making cooing noises. The priestess’ complexion reached a level of redness until then unknown to humankind.

“Unhand me, demon!”

“…No.”

There was that shit-eating grin again, but without the wickedness. And instead of fear, it only ignited Sophia’s righteous anger.

“I said, unhand me!”

“Nope. I’m good like this.”

“I’m not!”

“Not my problem.”

“Barbarian!”

“I like how you smell.”

Sophia’s face imploded in terminal embarrassment, and her complaints devolved into vague mumbles that only included some scarce few audible words. “…shameless brute … improper … bully … can’t … selfish fiend…”

Sam let her be for a while, content with rubbing her nose all over the catatonic priestess’ hair.

Eventually, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Uhhh?” Sophia’s consciousness returned from a place very far away, a place where the world made sense. It had been a good place.

“You said we were going to travel together. Where are we going?”

“Oh. Goddess Rachiel told me to go to Benidith for the Heavenly Synod,” Sophia answered monotonously, still somewhat in denial about… well, reality, as a whole. “She told me to make a deal with you, so that you’ll protect me.”

“Ehhh… And what do I get out of it?”

Sophia raked her mushy brain for something the demon might desire. “…you get to travel with me?”

“Deal.”

Sophia felt something like a hot wind rushing through her being, and it abruptly blew the grogginess away. Her eyes widened in horror. She leaned away from the demon and stared up at her. “W-W-WAIT!! I was supposed to word it better than that!”

Sam shook her head. “Nope. Too late. A deal’s a deal.”

Staring at that stupid grin, the priestess received another large helping of that sweet, sweet existential dread that seemed like her constant companion ever since the demon had barrelled into her life. The truth of Sam’s word nestled deep in her soul like a lump of warm coal, accompanied by an unquestionable sensation that pointed straight at the demon with the certainty of a compass pointing north.

Sophia’s face turned from beet-red to chalk-white in a millisecond.

Goddess, what have I done?!

* * *

Sophia laid in bed. Wide awake, she stared at the ceiling. She could not sleep. Too many thoughts bounced around in her brain, too many questions and too many doubts—so many she could not fathom where to start with untangling them.

Of course, her botched deal with a powerful creature from the realm of the damned laid in prominence in that mental anxiety jumble. She had not even faintest idea what the ramifications of that one might be. A very real bead of warmth in the depth of her chest told her, at least, that there would be no escaping those consequences.

With a frustrated groan, she rolled to her side… and screamed like the damned.

A pair of eyes stared at her from the darkness, floating beyond the starlight cast through Sophia’s bedroom window. Sophia’s hands quickly clasped over her mouth to stifle her shriek. Of course, she had recognised those unmistakable amber eyes right away. And her new soul compass—or whatever it might be—pointed straight at the tall, scary shadow they belonged to.

However, recognition did not mean she was okay with being stared at while she slept! …or tried to!

“Sam! How long have you been there?!” she hissed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Underneath, she was wearing a very conservative nightgown, nothing like the bawdy attire her grandmother constantly tried to force on her. It truly showed nothing—as should be. But again, this was a matter of principles and dignity.

“A little while,” Sam answered quietly.

“Well, it’s creepy! You don’t stare at people while they sleep! Especially not standing silently in the shadows like some bogeyman!”

“Sorry…”

Sophia finally calmed enough to notice how different the demon sounded from her usual confident self. Her voice was softer, smaller. Sighing, the priestess shuffled in bed to sit a little straighter. “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

That makes two of us, Sophia thought. But instead, she asked, “How come?” She had already come to realise Sam was not one to volunteer information by herself. That little teasing tirade earlier was the most she had gotten out of the demon at once. “You didn’t seem to have any issue with it during the day.”

The amber eyes contracted in a frown. “It’s not the same.”

“How so?”

“Those were naps.”

“And that’s different?”

“Yes.”

They were speaking in circles. Sophia tried another angle. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Sam avoided her gaze. “I’ve always slept with Father until now.”

“So the problem is that… you can’t sleep alone?”

That could not be. Right? Sam was the scariest thing for miles around!

But the demon nodded, and Sophia could only sigh through her nose in disbelief. She was sighing a lot these days, to the point she almost feared she might start to deflate. She looked the demon in the eyes. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Sam only stared back at her intently.

It took a moment for understanding to dawn on the tired priestess.

“…oh, no. No you don’t.”

The demon’s eyes seemed to widen to large, begging orbs.

“I said, no! Go back to the couch!” Sophia pulled the cover to her eyes. “This is my bed, and I’m not sharing. It’s not proper! It’s not right! And it’s too small for two. I need to sleep too.”

You’re not sleeping much, though, an annoying little voice muttered in her ear.

I’m trying, okay?

And the bed was indeed too small. That was the truth.

But Sam only continued to stare at her googly-eyed.

“No.”

Sophia could have sworn the demon’s lower lip was trembling, but that must have been her imagination, making her see things in the dark.

“….no.”

“Please.”

“Oh, for the love of… Come here.” She pulled up the covers slightly.

Seeing Sam’s pearly white smile lit bloom was almost worth yielding—almost. Sophia still was unsure this was not some weird manner of demonic temptation tactic, but the large woman was simply irresistibly adorable when she had that big goofy grin on.

That gave the priestess pause. Now, where did that thought come from?

Any further reflection was blasted aside when Sam stepped into the light. Sophia’s eyes jerked tightly shut, and the covers jumped back over her head. “Oh, goddess, you’re naked. Why are you naked?”

“Clothes feel uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“You were dressed when you slept earlier!”

“Those were naps.”

“How is it any different?!”

“Because.”

“That’s not enough! Go put on clothes! Or no sharing the bed!”

“But–”

“CLOTHES!! NOW!!”

Sophia listened to Sam’s surprisingly quiet footsteps hurry out of the room before she dared pull the covers down and crack her eyelids opened. Confirming she was alone, she exhaled nervously—and then vigorously stomped the tiny evil voice in her mind that was whispering unspeakable thoughts. The evil voice struck back by providing snap memories of what Sophia had seen before closing her eyes.

Flashes of cut abdominals and toned thighs assaulted her like a waking fever dream. What is with that woman?! Sophia had seen less muscle definition in medical charts—and those were drawn without skin. Demon! She’s definitely a deceitful being of corrupting temptation! Elysium must be testing me! She swatted those evil images aside. Pure thoughts, Sophia. Pure thoughts. The Scriptures. Think of the Scriptures.

“Evade the immoral Lust. Every other Sin spreads its corruption outwards, only the Lustful sins against their own body. O mortal, do you ignore that your body is a temple to the Virtues, who are in you and blessed your soul? Now flee from youthful lusts and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, with those who call on Chastity and all the Virtues from a pure heart,” she droned out the passage from the Book of Chastity, one of the seven holy books of the Virtuous Alliance.

As they always did, the sacred words brought her a feeling of peace and belonging. They reminded Sophia that she was part of a bigger whole than her little self, and this time, they also reassured the troubled priestess that her soul was not yet lost.

“WHAAAAA!!” Her peace was shattered when she was abruptly lifted off the bed. Sam had come back without her notice. How is that huge lump of abs like a skilled assassin?! “Put me down, you big brute! What did I tell you?! Wanton behaviour! Wanton behaviour!!”

She was put down… on top of Sam. The demon had apparently decided the best way to deal with the small bed was to pile up. They now laid like a layered cake, with the bedsheets as icing.

The priestess was about to protest, but quiet snoring pre-emptively interrupted her. Stunned, she looked at the demon’s face. Sam was already fast asleep, a trickle of drool already poking out of her wheezing mouth.

A vein pulsed on Sophia’s forehead. “That… shameless… scoundrel. Ugh. Never mind.” She groaned, too tired to argue. Shuffling around on top of the large woman, she searched for a comfortable position. Eventually, she resigned herself to the inevitable. It’s just a pillow. Don’t think about it. …At least she’s clothed now. To small victories, I guess? Evil shall be vanquished in small, incremental steps.

But no matter what she told herself, it did not feel like a pillow. And the surface under her back did not feel like a lumpy mattress.

Wide awake, Sophia stared at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes.

Evade the immoral Lust. Every other Sin spreads its corruption outwards, only the Lustful…

* * * * *