Some hours later, muffled sounds and slow movement indicated that the woman had begun to wake. Logan let her be, focusing on cooking dinner and taking inventory of the loot acquired from “Dead Red” as he had named the demon that Beauty had defeated. It was, he was pleased to note, a good haul.

A leather pouch of coins jingled nice and heavy in his hand. Combined with the other coins, it felt like they had gathered a significant amount of money in total. That would come in handy soon enough to buy supplies.

There was the short sword made out of the same dark metal as his dagger. It vaguely resembled a Roman gladius with a single-edged and top-heavy, equally suited to chopping or stabbing. Logan was certainly not a swordsman but another blade could not hurt at all.

Beyond that, Dead Red had worn a jeweled ring and a golden armband that would surely fetch a good price in any thriving market, and gladiator-style leather armor plates across the shoulder and down one arm. A design was stamped into the leather, a snake coiled to strike. Regarding the armor, he would have preferred something that protected his bare abs rather than shows them off but armor of any kind was still far better than being naked from the waist up. After running around bare-chested for so long, he had almost forgotten how it felt to wear a shirt.

Finally, there was a leather bladder filled with some kind of eye-watering alcohol. It smelled like peppermint flavored paint thinner, judging by the scent stinging his nostrils. Still, as desperate for supplies, any supplies, as they were, even this had value. It might do for disinfecting wounds, or stripping paint if there was any paint to strip in Hell. Regardless, he had no interest in a taste test.

Hearing movement behind him, he turned to see that she was sitting up and looking around in obvious confusion. There was clarity in her dark eyes, but also caution as she looked at Logan. Her expression was tense and wary, only a short step away from fear.

Logan offered what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Hello. How do you feel?”

“I…” She shook her head. “What happened? Where am I?”

He gestured around his head. “Both very good questions. This is our… well, “home” is a bit overly optimistic. You were attacked by a big, horny demon. We helped you. Don’t you remember?”

She was a long time answering. Confusion passed across her face like a shadow, then dawning fear. “Your Master tricked me! You are hunters!”

The word “master” struck much too close to home, given his recent suspicions. Logan made an effort to keep his own frustration in check, cautioning himself to tread carefully. Reminding himself that this woman’s fears were very real and justified.

“I don’t know what a “hunter” is, at least how you mean it, but I do know that you are a guest,” he replied in a gentle voice. “No one is holding you against your will. You are safe here.”

“Safe.” She spoke the word as if uncertain what it meant.

“Yep,” Logan replied, keeping his focus on turning the meat over the fire, making no eye contact or sudden moves. “Hungry?”

“I… remember food.”

He made an effort not to wince at the plaintive tone of loss in her voice. “That’s an… interesting response. Do you not eat? Out there?”

“When I can. I found some berries once but they made me sick.”

“I see.” Logan tried not to dwell on the horrific implications of the word “once”. “Well, there is more than enough for two. If you want.”

“Why am I here? What do you want?”

Tension thrummed in her voice. Logan feared she might bolt for the exit at any moment. He pointed at the meat cooking on a spit and dripping sizzling fat into the flames. “My name is Logan and I want to eat dinner. Would you like to come sit by the fire and join me?”

She looked around, peering into the shadows. “Where is your Master?”

“That would be Beauty,” he replied as casually as possible. “And for the record, I call no one Master. Never have. Never will. I am a free man. Beauty is my… she is… a friend.”

“Your friend,” she repeated. “A demon is your… friend.”

Logan could hear the disbelief in her voice. Her doubt was understandable and mirrored his own concerns. “It’s complicated,” he shrugged in response. “What’s your name?”

“Karen.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Karen. More than you know. You are the first human I have had the chance to speak to since waking up in this nightmare.”

“Waking up?” she muttered. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” Logan sighed. “But I want to understand, and I’m really hoping you can help me do that.” Logan smiled at her to lighten the mood. “But not on an empty stomach.”

Logan heard the sound of slow, uncertain footsteps approaching. By the time he had the meat off the spit and cooling on a rock, she had come close enough to stand in his peripheral vision. He pretended as if he was unaware of her presence, afraid to move too swiftly and accidentally startle her into flight.

One small step at a time, she drew closer, drawn to the warmth and light of the fire. Logan cut a bit of meat off, placed it on a smaller rock, and set it off to one side before tucking into his own meal. Eventually, she mustered the courage to sit by the fire. It was longer still before she reached for the food.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Karen held the small strip of meat as if struggling to remember what to do with it. She sniffed at it, then took a small bite. As she chewed, her lips trembled and a tear spilled from her eye, as if it were the finest cut of steak and not half-burnt bristle pig.

“This is meat,” she whispered.

“It is, yes,” Logan nodded but inside he fought to keep the astonishment off of his face at her over-the-top reaction to food. Did she not even remember the taste of meat? What kind of terrible zombie-like condition had she been suffering before now?

“I remember this now.” Karen offered a faint smile of gratitude and took another small bite, slowly savoring each greasy, half-burnt morsel. “So good!”

They ate in peaceful silence. After a time, he could feel her eyes on him and looked up. Confusion painted a shadow across her pretty features and in her dark, liquid eyes.

“You look like you want to ask a question,” he prodded ever so gently. “It’s ok. Feel free to ask.”

Karen chewed at her lower lip, obviously struggling to summon the courage to speak up. “I don’t understand any of this. You look human, wear the clothes and insignia of a Master, but have declared that you are free. You claim friendship… to a demon. You have carried me to this place but have not had your way with me yet or taken me prisoner. Instead, you show kindness. And you speak as if you are a new soul and yet you look as strong as any old soul I have ever met and have food and even fire! None of this makes any sense!”

“That is… a lot to unpack,” Logan admitted. “Just for the record, yes, I am a free man. Yes, you are also free to leave whenever you wish. And yes, Beauty is my companion. There are no Masters here. Speaking of which, when you say “Master”, who or what exactly are you referring to?

Karen stared at him before answering, as if uncertain if it was a serious question. “A Master is an older, more powerful, demon. The lowest rank of those demons known as Elder demons. The oldest and most powerful might also be a Duke or Baron. Weaker demons serve them and the damned serve them all.”

Predator and prey, Logan thought. “So, the big demon we saved you from, he was a Master… an Elder demon?”

“No.” Karen pointed at the striking snake design stamped into the leather shoulder guard Logan had taken for his own use. “But he served one. That is the emblem of a Master. Wearing it marks you as his or her servant.”

He touched the snake design on his shoulder. “Interesting. Probably some kind of military rank or mark of fealty. COme to think of it, the demon did speak of his “Mistress so you are probably right about that.” Logan shrugged. “Well, it’s mine now. Spoils of war and finder’s keepers. He wasn’t the first. Beauty and I have terminated more than a few so far including the big bastard that attacked you.”

“That’s not possible.” She looked at Logan as if he had suddenly begun to speak in a foreign language.

“Of course it’s possible.” Logan paused to gather his thoughts. “Karen, do humans not fight back? Resist the demons… er, the Masters?”

“No.”

Logan could hear the deeper truth ringing in that one word answer like a bell. He might as well have asked, “Can the humans not grow wings out of their butts and fly around upside down?” In her mind, it would have been no more ridiculous a question.

“Karen…” Logan thought carefully about how to phrase his next words. “Do you know where you are? What this place is, outside of this cavern I mean?”

She nodded and stared at her food. “Hell,” she whispered. “This is Hell, and we are damned.”

There it was. The soldier in him understood and despaired. Resistance required more than just weapons and courage. More than anything, it required hope to make it a struggle worth fighting for. In Karen’s graceful, Asian eyes Logan saw none.

He sighed, poked at the fire, and stared into the dancing flames. “I really hate this miserable, fucking place.”

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He pretended to smile. “More meat?”

A companionable silence settled between them. The crackle and pop of the flames was the only sound until the soft tread of feet drew Logan’s attention. Beauty stepped into the cave and into the radiance of the flames, holding a fat little bristle pig slung over one shoulder. Her cat eyes glowed like golden lanterns in the firelight. Dancing shadows highlighted her taut muscles and generous curves.

Logan thought she looked like an amazon, fierce and beautiful. Karen had an entirely different reaction. She stared at the Succubus, wide-eyed and frozen with fear.

“Karen, it’s ok.” Carefully, he rose to his feet and stepped toward the frightened woman. “Like I said, Beauty is a friend. No one is going to hurt you.” She gave no indication of being aware of anything or anyone except Beauty. Logan moved over to her side. “Karen, look at me. Look at me.”

The tendons in her neck stood out like steel cables as her head twitched and slowly turned to see him. Karen’s eyes were wild. He could not begin to understand her pain, but he knew trauma when he saw it. Patience and kindness were the best he could offer.

“Karen, this is Beauty. She killed the demon that attacked you. Don’t you remember?”

The woman’s eyes were drawn back to the Succubus standing at the entrance to the cave, watching them back with a tilt of her snow-crested head. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“Karen.” Logan tried speaking on a soothing voice. “You’re safe. No one will hurt you. Swear to God.”

An angry shriek nearly made Logan jump out of his skin. It had not been Karen. Logan turned to see Beauty looking at him with a shocked expression. Then, in response to the demon’s sudden outburst and already on the ragged edge of fear, Karen screamed and fled toward the back of the cavern.

“No, Logan.” The Succubus violently shook her head. “No! Weird!”

“What the hell…” He looked back and forth in complete bafflement from one female to the other. One glaring at him and the other vanishing into darkness in mindless terror. “…just happened?”

Beauty looked angry. “Not say, Logan. Weird!”

“Not say what?” He could almost hear the click as pieces fell into place. “Oh,” he muttered. “Oh!” Logan leaped to his feet and walked over to Beauty. “So, that’s what passes for foul language down here? I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Ok, no more references to the big G upstairs, I promise.”

“Weird, Logan.” Beauty chastised in a gentler voice.

“Got it.” He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose against the first dull throb of a headache, and looked around for Karen. “Now it seems that I need to go convince our guest that you are not going to enslave her. Be right back.”

Logan fished a stick from the fire and coaxed it to life as a rude torch to light his way. The back of the cavern continued on beyond the large chamber they called home, twisting and tunneling deeper into the earth. Once again, he considered exploring further but, as always, there were more important things to be done.

Navigating around twists of rock and tall stalagmites, he found Karen curled up in an alcove, shivering with fright, and wide-eyed. Eventually, time and gentle words coaxed her back into the firelight until he finally had the demon girl and the human woman facing each other across the fire pit. Logan stood between them, swallowing his frustration and reminding himself to suck it up and handle it. That this was all his bright idea and thus, his responsibility.

He walked over, slid his arm around Beauty’s waist in a gesture of solidarity, and tried not to think too much on how awkward it now felt to touch her. When he spoke, Logan’s tone was kind but firm. “One more time, this is Beauty. Yes, she is a demon. She also saved you from a bad end. Feel free to say thank you.”

“Thank you?” Karen asked.

“You're welcome,” Logan shot back. “See? All best buds now.”

The two females looked at each other. Somehow, Logan didn’t think they agreed with his assessment of the situation. This going to be a long night.