Demon King's Possession
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A. L. Smith
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Songbird
DAMIEN
My gaze landed on Ivan as a surge of anger coursed through me. A low-ranking demon was kneeling before us, imparting news I had no desire to hear.
I was seated on a lavish blood-red velvet throne embellished with elaborate gold designs, clutching the armrests of the chair so hard I was threatening to break them.
“Your king has just addressed you!” my most trusted adviser bellowed beside me.
Ivan’s tone was demanding, but I could tell he was actually pleading with our guest. He knew how uncontrolled I could become when I was angered.
“The e-entertainment is n-no longer able to p-perform, Your M-Majesty.” The old man’s voice trembled while his gaze remained on the black carpet. He clenched his hands, and sweat poured off him.
“Then what would you have me do about that?” My voice was low and coarse and sounded every bit as patronizing as I intended. It always left a bad taste in my mouth to see a demon behaving so feebly.
When the old creature didn’t say anything, I stood and made my way down the steps slowly.
“Does the celebration of our ancestors’ victory mean so little to you?”
“N…no, of course not!” He sunk his head lower.
I came to a stop next to the weakling, moving my booted foot over his fingers. “Maybe we will sacrifice you to ask for forgiveness for your faithless behavior. What do you think, Ivan?”
I pushed my foot down harder, feeling the demon’s fingers crunching, listening to the old man’s muted whimpers.
“It seems that is the only acceptable option, Your Majesty.” My right-hand man had a wicked grin on his face as he spoke.
“I know a man, Your Majesty! H-his entertainment is—ow!—unique.”
I leaned down to be closer to the demon’s ear. “You better be right; otherwise, your head will have to serve instead. It will be the first thing anyone sees when they enter the castle tonight. Understood?”
“Y…yes, u…understood.”
“I can’t just have any entertainer. Tonight, we celebrate our ancestors’ victory in the war—when we wiped out the angels and enslaved the humans. I must not be outdone or embarrassed.
“This man you know, what’s their specialty?”
“His name is Sephtis Crawford, my lord. He is said to be the master of the one they call Songbird, Your Majesty…” The trembling man started to breathe more easily the moment I removed my foot.
“Ivan, have this songbird brought here in time for the celebration.” I looked back down at the pathetic demon on the floor. “If you cannot find her, or she proves unacceptable, kill him.”
Ivan nodded and marched toward the main doorway of the throne room, dragging the frail old man out with him.
Songbird… What a peculiar name.
I hoped this entertainer would live up to her stage name. As much as I enjoyed a good execution, I had a castle’s worth of guests to entertain. And so she’d better perform.
If not, both she and her master would surely perish.
GRACE
I leaned closer to the dressing room mirror, applying the finishing touches to my silver and vermilion eyeshadow, then proceeded to apply a luscious, crimson-colored gloss to my plump lips.
I had chosen the bold colors deliberately to draw any onlooker’s attention to my best feature: my captivating crystal-gold eyes, almost glowing in the light.
As one of “Sephtis’s Remarkable Spectacles,” I couldn’t neglect my body, and I checked that all the tassels of my exquisite silver dress were hanging from the edges and beneath my breasts.
My lustrous platinum-colored hair was styled in a half-pinup style. With no one to hold a mirror up for me, I had to trust the strands cascading down my back were still curled.
All Sephtis’s entertainers had a distinctive look about them. He collected us like we were property.
Well, I suppose we were…
But it had started with me. Before he’d purchased me and my fair hair and crystal-gold eyes—the main attraction of his shows—there had been nothing special about his shows.
But the second he heard my voice, I became his “songbird,” as he liked to call me. And after my look and voice granted Sephtis his fortune, he had been able to afford only the best entertainers.
My gaze drifted down the smooth skin of my neck, over my long slender arms, guilt once again filling my stomach as though I’d swallowed a stone.
Unlike other masters, Sephtis knew better than to beat his entertainers. Keeping us unblemished meant more money in his pocket.
He was also one of the more restrained masters, knowing that so long as he protected our virginities, he could charge a great deal more.
But if we displeased him, he would take it out on one of his many slaves just to spite us.
I cursed myself for losing focus to my thoughts when I felt five chunky, greasy fingers grip my upper arm. The stench of putrid beer almost made me gag.
Looking back in the mirror, I saw the greasy man with a porky stomach behind me.
“None of that shit you pulled last time, Songbird,” Sephtis said, his tone menacing. “I mean it, or you’ll watch as I have several slaves killed in your place.”
He had told me to perform a strip tease on stage the previous night. When I said no, he beat one of his slaves almost to the point of death. I wouldn’t be doing that again—that’s for sure.
I smiled weakly at him in the reflection. “Of course, Master.”
“If you didn’t attract so many well-paying customers, I would have snatched that tongue from your throat years ago.”
With that, he lifted me out of the chair and shoved me on stage, the curtains still down.
I walked up to the microphone in the diamond-encrusted stand and got into position: a hand on my hip, one leg arched outward, and my lips curled into a sickening, sensual smirk.
The curtains drew, and multicolored, piercing eyes glared at me from all angles in the darkness.
A melody started to play, and my vocals filled the quiet.
It didn’t matter that I was forced to sing. It was the only time I felt free—when I could imagine the world as I was told it used to be, when angels existed and protected us from evil.
***
With the sound of applause still going behind me, I retreated to the dressing room, which was now busy with the other entertainers Sephtis owned.
“That was beautiful, Grace. Your best performance yet!” A tired yet ever-smiling Adalie paced toward me and put her icy hands around mine.
“It astonishes me how you can still force that smile on your face, Adalie,” Robby said from across the room.
Adalie was the closest thing I had to family, but Robby was right. We had little cause to be joyful.
But Adalie’s optimism is what attracted people to her. In a world where we were destined to be slaves, she provided a glimmer of hope and joy.
Robby was dressed in his usual tight, neon-pink latex shorts, which barely covered his manhood.
It had been his striking blond hair and charming dimples that had convinced Sephtis to bring him on board, but it was his skills as a stripper that kept the ladies coming back.
He was tall and one of the few of us with “meat on his bones.” Robby wasn’t one of Sephtis’s favorites, but our master fed him well to keep him fit, which the customers loved so much.
In the same way that I felt guilty about the lack of cuts and bruises on my arms and legs when I saw the slaves, I think Robby felt guilty that the rest of us were so skinny.
Adalie’s delicate appearance was enhanced by her small stature and vivacious brown curls that perfectly matched the color of her chocolate-brown eyes.
She was a dancer, as well, and often performed with Robby. But unlike me, Sephtis didn’t tell his patrons they couldn’t grope her in places to “keep them keen.”
Sephtis would never allow that to happen to me; I was too precious to him.
As much as I hated to admit it, I was slightly grateful to him for that.
“Those creatures will never take away my smile, Robby, and you shouldn’t let them either.” Adalie tried to sound confident, but her soft-spoken nature didn’t give the impression she was going for.
Martha walked into the room with two others behind her. Each of the three slaves was carrying trays of bland-smelling food.
As awful as it was, we were used to it, and we knew if we didn’t eat, we’d be starved for a week and then still served the same gruel.
Robby’s tray was placed on his dressing table. His bowl was filled to the brim, while the rest of ours was barely half full.
The confidence seeped out of him as he lowered his head and averted his eyes before taking a bite.
He had tried sharing once before. Several of the slaves were killed in front of him for doing so.
“What’s on the menu today, Martha?” I joked. I closed my eyes and imagined I was about to tuck into a meal fit for a queen.
The illusion cracked when I put the first spoonful in my mouth.
“Roast minted lamb with mashed potatoes and a topping of beef-dripping gravy, my dear.” Martha moved her ginger fringe off her freckly forehead and tucked the hair behind an ear.
I laughed at our ongoing joke as another two entertainers made their way into the dressing room and found empty tables.
Sephtis owned a total of twelve entertainers and eight slaves. Most of us entertainers knew each other, or at least knew of each other, from the time we were “assigned” at sixteen and then sold.
Some of them, though, I’d known in the orphanage before.
As I swallowed more of the gruel, the familiar, featureless shadows I knew to be my parents came to me again.
You can’t miss something you’ve never had, right?
Sometimes, I wondered what they looked like, but it was more out of curiosity than anything else.
I placed the empty wooden bowl on the table, wished Robby and Adalie good luck, and made my way to the corner on the far side of the dressing room.
Pulling back a sheet, I squeezed through the tightly packed bunk beds and jumped onto my mattress.
I went to bed in the corner of the large attic, where our dressing rooms were also located. But before I could hop on, a gravelly voice cut through the air.
“Nope, not done yet, Songbird,” Sephtis struggled to say with his heavy breathing. “Up.” There was a discernible satisfaction in his expression. He looked put out.
“I thought I was done for the day,” I said, squeezing my way back toward him. Please move so I don’t have to smell your stink again.
“Time to dress to impress. You’ve been summoned to the castle. You have twenty minutes.”
He turned to leave but stopped. “If you’re not ready on time or if you think about acting up”—he swept his hand in front of the dressing room—“every person in this room will suffer the consequences.”
With that, he slammed the door shut behind him.
A sensation of unease crept up on me as I felt a lump forming in my throat. Everyone in the room was looking at me with a mix of fear and sympathy on their faces.
Adalie, Robby, and a few others hurriedly approached me, but I was too shell-shocked to utter a single word.
“Just do as he says, and everything will be fine, Grace,” Robby said sternly.
“Before you know it, you’ll be back with us,” Adalie said. “It’s probably just a well-paying client who wants a private show.”
But I didn’t believe her. I don’t think she did either.
Something wasn’t right. I could feel it. I had this unwavering fear that…I wouldn’t be coming back.
It was rare for masters to hire out their entertainers. Outside the clubs, they had less control. Still, it wasn’t unheard of.
But to be requested to come to the castle?
A knot formed in my stomach, and I could feel the slop in my belly threatening to come back up. “D-do you think it’s…him?” I barely managed to get out.
Adalie shook her head. “We don’t know that. It could be anyone. Just do what you do so well, and you’ll be back before you know it.”
But even Adalie didn’t seem to trust her smile for once, and the shining tears in Robby’s eyes told me he was thinking the same thing.
The Demon King had requested me…
…and no one ever came back from the Demon King.
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