Hope Springs Infernal

By J.G. King

It’s just another night for Sebastian Reeves, overseeing the clientele at his invitation-only club, Bedlam. Another night that is, until Maddox Foxcourt comes knocking on his door after-hours seeking protection and safety. Sebastian, an incubus—a creature who feeds on sexual energy—has never cared for the uptight and overly prissy sin eater in the five centuries they’ve known each other. Still, nearly-immortal beings need to stick together, so he agrees to shelter Maddox, at least until he recovers.

Maddox never expected to end up on Sebastian’s doorstep. His plan to leave as quickly as possible is derailed when those that kidnapped and tortured him for his abilities come looking for him at Bedlam the following evening. His inborn talent of taking people’s sins into himself makes him a valuable asset for information gathering, and they plan to use him whether Maddox wishes it or not. When Sebastian uses his incubus powers to turn away those looking for him, Maddox is further in his debt.

As Sebastian and Maddox dig deeper into the kidnapping, the two of them discover they have more in common than they first thought. But as they hunt for clues as to who is behind it, another threat rears its head. A monstrous creature stalks the sin eater whenever he leaves the safety of Bedlam. Maddox fears his continued presence in Sebastian’s life endangers him and those closest to him.

The two near-immortals have to figure out who is after them and what, if anything, they mean to each other and time is running out. But hope springs infernal...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeanette Battista
• Release date: Jul 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780997319781

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Hope Springs Infernal

Copyright © 2020 by J.G. King

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Cover design by MM

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author or as permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Written in the United States of America.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9973197-8-1

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter One

Maddox had lost his shoe. He’d liked that shoe.

He couldn’t remember where or when, but it made running difficult. The heavy rain soaked his sock, leaving his foot icy cold and making a gross schluking sound with every step. He was already exhausted and now he had to wear what amounted to a wet, woolen anchor.

His blood thundered in his ears, a pounding cadence to every step he managed. His chest ached like someone had dug their fingers into his sternum. Drawing breath was an agony he’d grown used to over the past twenty-four hours. When he stumbled to his knees in a trash-strewn alley, he didn’t want to get back up.

Anger and sheer stubbornness drove Maddox back to his feet. He would not go back to that room. He’d be damned if he let those people catch him again. He managed an uneven jog, stopping a few minutes later to cough up black sludge. It landed on the pavement with a wet slap He staggered on, shoving through the light foot traffic. The abominable weather and the late hour meant the New York City streets were as empty as they ever got. Maddox didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried.

He glanced behind him. No sign of pursuit yet. The rain would help wash away signs of his passing to most magical trackers save for those with water affinities. As miserable as he was, the storm was a blessing.

Clutching his arms around his skinny midsection, Maddox shivered as he leaned against the rough wall of some building. He’d dropped weight during his captivity, and now his drenched clothes weighed him down, making him even slower. His guts felt like they’d been replaced with shards of glass, tearing his insides apart with every step he took. His throat burned raw from vomiting.

Maddox spun around at the sound of something moving in the alley at his back. He flinched away when he saw what was hopping among the space outside of a restaurant’s back door. A ragged looking homeless man waited for a meal.

Maddox saw through the glamour to what that homeless man truly was.

It was a jiangshi. Its skin was greenish-white, almost like mold crept over dead flesh. Long white hair spilled down its back and hung in its face. Jiangshi fed on the chi of the living, sucking them dry. The thing’s arms and legs were so stiff with rigor mortis that it could only move by a strange hopping motion, its arms stretched out wide. It was probably searching for an unfortunate homeless person to feed on before going back to its hole during daylight hours.

Maddox hacked up more black sludge, splashing the ground in front of him. The jiangshi’s head jerked in his direction. Its milk-white gaze fixed on him, and he felt waves of malevolence pour out of it. He froze as it sniffed the air. The outstretched arms twitched like it was trying to grab something.

Him.

Damn.

It moved fast. Before Maddox could do more than draw breath, the jiangshi jumped. Ducking back to the sidewalk, he ran away as fast as his unsteady legs allowed. He had no weapons, nothing that he could use to fend it off. All he could do was run.

All he could ever do was run. He was sick of it.

The vicious downpour sent rain pounding against Maddox’s exhausted body like a hail of rubber bullets. He crossed the street in a terrified daze and narrowly avoided being struck by a passing cab. He looked back again, but there was no sign of the jiangshi or anything else chasing him.

Safety. He needed to find a safe place to go to ground until he was in better shape.

He vomited up another round of black sludge, the physical manifestation of the sin he’d been forced to ingest. His vision blurred and the lights of the passing cars went smudgy. There was no way he could go home. The people who’d taken him knew where he lived. If he stayed out here much longer, he was going to pass out and then they’d find him.

Maddox walked on, his footsteps heavy and plodding. Safety. That’s all he could think about. His lungs ached and his stomach wouldn’t stop spasming. He couldn’t feel his hands and feet. He knew he should be concerned that he wasn’t shivering anymore, but his thoughts refused to coalesce into sense.

There. A pulse of magical energy flavored the air with a minty, metallic tang. Maddox lifted his head, squinting into the distance. It came from a few blocks over, so close Maddox nearly sobbed in relief. Safety sat behind the walls of somewhere heavily warded with powerful spells—and he was so close to it. All he had to do was make it there.

With the last of his fading energy, he fell into a half-stagger, half-jog. His soaking silver hair flopped into his face and he pushed it back once again so he could see where he was going. His concentration narrowed to the wash of magic in the air, the way the wards fed off the currents of power that flowed beneath the streets into the very bones of the earth, much older than the city itself. The energy reached out to Maddox, drawing him closer to its warmth.

He caught a furtive flash of movement in his periphery, almost hidden in the small space between buildings. He froze, breath caught in a throat gone tight. Had they found him? He could hear something moving in the darkness, and he peered to see if it was those who’d kidnapped him, come to claim him once more. Instead he saw a large shape padding around on four legs. Maddox’s eyes met slit-pupiled reptilian yellow, and he glimpsed scaly, leathery hide surrounding a heavy brow ridge and the long, tapering snout before his brain reacted with atavistic terror.

Drawing on reserves of stamina he didn’t know he had, Maddox pushed his exhausted body into a sprint. He pelted down the sidewalk in the direction where the warding pulsed strongest, shoving people out of his way, leaving curses and shouts in his wake. The malignant aura of whatever chased him fought to envelop him, tar-like tendrils grasping at his mind. Maddox’s heart beat against his ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. His breath sawed in and out of his chest, billowing out of him in a rasping wheeze. He didn’t feel the wet slap of the rain or the chill of the cold.

Maddox risked a sidelong glance in the window of a storefront as he passed and stumbled in fear. A shadowed form stalked him, nearly hidden. It kept pace with him. As it passed in front of the lighted windows of a bodega, Maddox saw its true form. In the reflection, it appeared a Frankestein mishmash of parts: the front third of its body that of a crocodile, the middle, a lion, the back third a hippo. It had the snout of a Nile crocodile coupled with the mane of a lion, and a crocodile’s tail protruding from a hippo’s hind end. A name came to him, sliding away before he could grasp it in his dull, terror-stricken brain. Something likely Egyptian was all he thought, what with their fondness for animal-headed gods.

Humans didn’t appear to notice the monster in their midst; its glamour was too strong. It stopped when it noticed Maddox staring at it. Then it seemed to grin—at least the leathery lips lengthened in a carnivore’s smile. Maddox shivered at the malevolent sentience in its flat yellow gaze.

It was hunting him.

Animal terror flooded his brain, making it impossible for Maddox to think. He didn’t know what this thing was, had never seen anything like it in his long life. It slavered and grinned and scrambled closer, claws clicking on the wet pavement. Maddox ran faster.

The warding’s beckon intensified as he approached the nexus of the ley lines that fed it. He could hear the beast behind him, the drag of its long tail sending sprays of water out to slap the pavement on either side of it. Maddox could practically feel its breath against his back. Move! His body got a last adrenaline burst and he surged forward.

The back of a building hove into view as Maddox slewed around a corner. Here was the center of the warding—this structure. It bristled with protective magics, a port in the storm. Maddox had no idea what it housed, but it was too late to care. He had a nightmare on his heels that likely wanted to eat him. His options were decidedly limited.

The air around him sizzled as he passed through the warding wall. His skin prickled as if pierced by thousands of tiny needles. It would have taken his breath away if he wasn’t already gasping for air. Maddox noticed a magically obscured door, likewise warded, set deep in the building’s back wall. It was as good a place as any to start.

Maddox walked backwards so he could keep an eye on the creature that followed him. It had drawn up short at the warding wall wrapped around the building. As he watched, the creature stopped its pacing and met his gaze. A long tongue flicked out, almost as if tasting the humid damp air. Then it turned and scuttled away.

Sagging against the door, he breathed in deeply. It turned into a violent coughing fit. More black sin sludge spewed from his lips to paint the steps. Maddox stared as the driving rain slowly washed it away. Groaning, he wrapped one arm around his stomach and slowly climbed the concrete stairs that led to a back door, feeling every day of his five hundred odd years.

He wished he could sleep. Instead, he raised his free hand and beat on the metal door, begging for entrance.

Chapter Two

The sexual output of the evening was one of the most filling Sebastian had experienced in months. Bedlam—member’s only, exclusive—was busy with patrons dying to be titillated. Glancing over to the bar, he shared a meaningful glance with his business partner, Ashtaroth. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes sparkled. As beings that fed on sexual energy, incubi and succubi required nutrition outside the norm. Their club was easier than a drive through—their meals came to them. It was like UberEats for the preternatural set.

He and Ash had built Bedlam together several years ago, both as a labor of love and as a way to make sure they always had a source of sustenance. As an incubus, Sebastian noticed the increased difficulty to connect in the modern age of webcams and PornHub. Ashtaroth had different problems: as an asexual, she preferred not to engage in physical sex. Their kind needed physical proximity to feed. Sex wasn’t necessary, not if they had a steady stream of sexual energy to draw from. Once they’d gotten the club up and running it meant full bellies and income.

A small row at one of the tables at the front of the small stage disturbed Sebastian’s peace. A young man in dreadfully rumpled clothing stood, shouted up at the master of ceremonies for the evening’s entertainment. A few of the nearby patrons were giving him incredulous looks, while a member of his party pulled at his elbow to quiet him.

Sebastian shared a look with Ash. They both began to make their way to the table in question. I knew this feculent hobgoblin was going to cause a problem, Ash whispered with a sour expression.

He vaguely remembered the young man from his Page Six exploits: some entitled rich boy from the Upper East Side who was used to getting anything he wanted if he just threw a large and loud enough tantrum. He was at Bedlam tonight as a guest of an actual member. Said member was currently as pale as a bloodless corpse. Bedlam did not tolerate scenes; it was in the bylaws, and the punishments were positively draconian. Bedlam extended few offers and they were coveted among the elite. To be barred reflected poorly on everyone involved.

This human embodiment of feckless spending and questionable breeding was endangering his friend’s membership.

The little piece of excrement was trying to force his way onto the stage, shoving aside his friend in the process. He attempted to push past the MC on his way to the performers, but Jonsie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Don’t touch me, asshole!

Jonsie—the MC—stepped back, a neutral expression firmly in place. Sebastian caught their eye and shook his head, indicating he would take care of this walking argument for birth control.

That’s quite enough. Sebastian spoke softly, but it carried to the rude fool abusing his employee. He waved Jonsie away as the entitled idiot turned around, all blather and bluster.

We’re terribly sorry, the member—a man of perhaps twenty-five, heir to a shipping magnate—said. It won’t h—

Do be quiet, dearheart, Ashtaroth purred, murder in her eyes. She was protective of the staff and far less forgiving than Sebastian. The more saccharine her endearments, the more likely she was to eviscerate you. We’re handling this. She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture, compulsion flowing out of her. The young man snapped his mouth shut so fast it was a wonder he didn’t crack teeth.

Sebastian saw her eyes flash a brief but intense gold before returning to their normal molten brown. She was likely going to demolish this ridiculous human trash, and he couldn’t blame her. Rudeness, especially when one had every societal advantage, was stupid and tired and unforgivable.

It’s about time one of you di—

Shhhhhh. Sebastian smiled and let the force of his intent wash over the impudent ass. The young man froze, every muscle in his body locking up. His dark eyes, unfocused from all the top shelf liquor he’d been sucking down like it was gas station Red Bull on a Spring Break road trip, settled on Sebastian with a nearly audible snap.

Sebastian let the compulsion flow out of him, wrapping the man in desire. Making someone helpless with lust was an incubus’ stock-in-trade. He watched coolly as the man’s face turned red with his flush of arousal. His pupils expanded until they nearly swallowed the light brown of his iris. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the aphrodisiac scent rolling off Sebastian in waves. The hard line of the man’s dick in his wrinkled trousers provided further evidence of his desire.

Follow me, Sebastian ordered in a throaty growl. He turned without waiting to see if the young man obeyed.

Two of the security guards fell into step on either side of the young man. Sebastian could hear the click of Ashtaroth’s heels as she marched behind them, escorting the rest of the rude man’s party along. Sebastian focused on the threads of the man’s lust, the hot ache of pleasure riding his groin, the stiffening of his nipples against the roughness of the fabric of his terrible shirt. Sebastian strengthened the compulsion, feeding it with his energy, stifling the man in want until he could hear the way the man’s lungs wheezed with every breath he took.

Sebastian smiled, drinking in the man’s lust. It tasted cheap on the air—mere trash to a connoisseur like Sebastian, but there was something to be said for greasy potato chips and off-brand soda when one wanted junk food. Glancing over his shoulder, Sebastian saw the man following him at a fast clip, his mouth hanging slack. His lips shone with wetness, and Sebastian watched as the young man licked them again. His eyes pleaded with Sebastian for release.

The doorman saw the procession coming and flung open the door. Sebastian stopped right at the threshold and leaned down to the man’s ear. His smile teased the shell of it, and Sebastian almost chuckled when he heard the man’s needy moan.

Please, the young man begged, hands reaching out but not daring to touch.

You beg so prettily, Sebastian drawled as he leaned in closer, delighting in the other man’s shiver. You know what you can do for me that would make me so terrifically happy? He leaned back so he could see the man’s face.

Anything. Sweat dripped down his forehead and temples.

Sebastian reeled in the incubus energy he’d been using to flood the man’s senses. The connection between them snapped like a bowstring under heavy draw. Sebastian held himself still against the backlash, feeling the damnable answering ache in his core at being denied the completion of his meal. He could bear it.

The man’s eyes cleared in the moment before Sebastian gestured for the two security guards to do their job. You can get the fuck out of my establishment. He straightened his garnet and silver tie and turned his back on the man in dismissal.

Meanwhile, Ashtaroth had plucked the black membership card from the book at the front rather than handing it back to its owner who stood at the host stand looking mortified. She handled most of the client-facing duties since she’d been the one to come up with the idea of a high-end burlesque club that offered discrete dalliances for those with similar tastes.

Probation for thirty days for that poor life choice, she said silkily, a small smirk quirking her carmine lips. She chucked the young man under the chin with his confiscated card. You can collect it in a month. The rest of the party nodded, clearly embarrassed by the scene they’d caused. That’s your free pass, gentlemen. You only get one. If there’s a next time, you won’t enjoy what comes of it. She didn’t wait to watch as security escorted them out as well.

Sebastian heard the staccato of her heels as she caught up with him. Trust fund idiots. You should have drained him dry. She put her hand on his arm and steered him over to the bar. What’s the point of having a furnace if you don’t get to use it?

Sebastian thought she was kidding, but with Ash it was sometimes hard to tell. That might lead to unwholesome people sniffing around. Like the police. Possibly Christians. They both shuddered. Or more of that one’s ilk. He waved toward the door.

They’d be relieved to be rid of him, she sniffed, signaling their bartender, Justinian. He set a bourbon and soda in front of Sebastian.

As he sipped at his drink, Sebastian could feel Ash staring at him. What? Is there something wrong with my hair? He put his hand up to his head.

Ash slapped his hand lightly. No, you ridiculous creature. Are you certain you don’t need to, ah, finish? Cutting off like that is hell on the constitution.

Which was a polite way to ask if he needed to take a patron to a private room. Sebastian shook his head. He had no shortage of willing bed partners if he was so inclined, but he wasn’t feeling up to company of that kind tonight.

I’ll be all right, he assured her. Already the constant miasma of sexual arousal perfuming the air was settling his stomach and soothing the ache inside of him. It didn’t fill the void, but it helped.

As you say, Ash said and left him to his drink to go mingle with the patrons and assure them that Bedlam was as tony as ever.

His gaze scanned the large room. Ashtaroth may have handled the bylaws and rules, but the décor was all him. He basked in the luxurious appointments of the club and the young women and men in tasteful states of undress on the stage. Sebastian created a Regency-era private club feel, combined it with the warmth of a library, and added just a splash of kink to keep it interesting. Everything was leather and velvet, richly patterned wallpaper and dark wood.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed without further incident. When the last patron had left Bedlam and he’d seen the employees out, Sebastian finally let his shoulders slump in weariness. All he wanted to do was crawl