Page 1 of Demon's Prey
1
KURSE
It was barely daybreak when Kurse removed Flappy, his loyal and faithful vampire bat mount, from his stable. Flappy stared at his owner with concerned eyes, the light of the sun sneaking into his pen. Kurse strapped the saddle on tightly and pulled Flappy by the neck to face the morning. He knew the day would be unlike any other. Flappy grunted, disagreed, yet reluctantly gave in when his 400 pound owner mounted him and cast off into the sky.
The orange clouds parted, and Kurse looked over his dominion. The planet Kell in the Hell dimension of Kortanth was a land of blood and violence, but from up here, it almost looked…peaceful.
The Oracle would not be expecting him, but Kurse did not give a shit. As a demon king, he had waited too long to identify his mate. He was horny, strong, and capable. Why had no mate emerged for his pleasure? They had questions to answer, and Kurse was going to force it down their throat if he had to.
Kurse pulled at the reins and slightly choked Flappy, forcing him into a rough landing. They stopped at the heights of the Tower of the Oracle, which sat at the center of a gothic landscape crafted by the most ancient demon kings. At that moment, though, he did not give a shit about its historical significance. Instead, he leapt off Flappy and ordered him into the shadows.
“The sun will rise soon, so you better stay put,” Kurse grunted at his stead.
Flappy curved his mouth downward, frowning as much as a bat can frown, but descended into the dark, knowing that any other choice would be his demise.
Kurse breathed in profoundly and stroked his scales. They were as red as the blood he’d shed of his victims. And the blood he would be more than willing to shed again to find his fated mate.
Kurse tramped to an entry doorway. He used a single giant foot to plow it open. Behind it, a minor demon in an Oracle uniform stood stunned with his eyes wide.
“You can’t be in here!” The little man proclaimed.
Kurse snorted. “And you’re going to stop me?”
The man held a spear in one hand, which he glanced at briefly. Kurse watched him assess the threat and then challenge the giant demon king anyway.
He ran toward Kurse with one hand shot backward, holding the spear and ready to launch. Instead, he attempted a roar and sprinted, sounding like a lion cub rather than the dominant father. Kurse placed his hands on his hips, leaned back, exposing his sharp fangs, and launched his head forward. He caught the thin arm of the tiny demon in his mouth, then chewed down relentlessly.
The little man bellowed like a child.
“AHHHHHHHHH!”
Kurse grinned as he clenched his teeth, digging deeper into the immature scales. He felt bones crunch and relished in the sound. He shook him like a lion shakes its prey, loosening skin and muscle, then tossed him to the cold hard ground. He was still screaming when he hit the stone.
Kurse rolled his flesh around in his mouth, considered swallowing, then spat out the remnants of the pathetic being. He picked his teeth with his sharp nails. “Tastes like chicken.” He muttered to himself.
Kurse considered leaving, then decided to take one last shot at the little man writhing around on the ground. His forearm had been mangled, redness and meat hanging from the bone like mini curtains. This satisfied Kurse. He pressed a giant foot down onto the wrist that trembled, hanging onto the ligaments by a string.
“FUCK!” The man bellowed. Kurse hoped that the Oracle was hearing all of this agony being expelled.
Kurse let up, then stepped over the boy… “Never challenge a demon king, son.” Kurse boomed before entering the Oracle’s lair. He hoped it would be a lesson that the boy would never forget.
He’d have a missing limb to attest to the power and fury of Kurse.
The Oracle had her door open, and she sat on the top of the desk. The desk was tall and made of the most sought after iron of Kortanth. She leaned back, her bare, sleek legs reflecting in the candlelight. The Oracle wasn’t gendered but could appear in whatever form they saw fit. When Kurse met them, they were a thick and voluptuous red-headed human sporting a beautifully fitted charcoal black blazer and skirt.
“The Iron King, wonderful to meet you.”
Kurse clenched his claws and entered the room, noticing the decorum of iron. Kurse was agitated, knowing that Oracle had intentionally manipulated the space to appeal to his iron-bending abilities. “You’re a fucking joke. You know that, right?”
“Wow.” The Oracle exclaimed. “That’s not the way to address your fate.”
“I have no fate so far, so spit it out. Where the fuck is my mate?”
The Oracle sighed, her giant breasts heaving. She cast her hands in a circle in front of her, conjuring a dark mirror only she could peer into. She squinted her small human eyes to give him his reading. “Kurse, The Iron King, your fated mate is human. She traced your sigil with her body thirteen times in a row. She then twisted herself into your personal sigil.”
Kurse was getting excited. His irritation was melting away like ice in the fires of hell. He unclenched his jaw and let his fangs hang out the side of his lips. “A human? Are you sure?”
The Oracle flicked her blue eyes up to the king. “You know who I am, right?”
