THE QUEST FOR LUST (|)
1036 Words
The quest to find his father, Lascivus Läwst, is not an easy one, but Brandon refuses to be deterred. Without completing this mission, he might as well not bother with his demonic heritage. How else will he survive?
He has extracted the memories of every living person who was connected to his father in any way, yet he is nowhere close to finding out who his father is. There are several gaps that are yet to be filled, but he at least knows that there is a fat chance of his father being human. From his otherworldly physical features to his quirks and strange tendencies, a lot of things point back to the truth- his father is a demon, and a high-ranking one at that.
His sojourn in all seven continents, from the ‘island continent’ of Australia to the icy regions of Antarctica, was instrumental in obtaining clues, but he still requires one final push. The search for his father required lots of time and resources, and what more does a demon who happens to be the sole heir to the business empire belonging to the famed Lascivus Läwst have than lots of time and money?
After several fortuitous encounters, he understands that a demon of his father’s caliber cannot be found if he doesn’t want to be found. Still, his desire to succeed does not falter in the slightest. This desire is what keeps him going- it makes him tick. It is the reason he has captured Llearht, a demon he summoned to Earth.
Today is not the first time he is summoning a demon, but this time, things are different. This time, he managed to summon a demon of Lust.
Whenever he summons and captures a demon, questioning them about Hell and anything related to demons never elicits an honest response. Not even if he promises them the world or tortures them to insanity. But today, he did not even need to go that far before getting answers.
Unknown to him, his identity as the offspring of sin gives him a modicum of power over demons less powerful than he is. Although that power and influence are a lot weaker than normal due to his tainted bloodline- his mother is human- he can still command lower-ranked demons of Lust.
Llearht is somehow able to sense the aura of Lust from the human who captured him. Human or half-demon? I’m not so sure. No human can exude such a pure aura, not even if they were devotees to the essence of lust. He has to be a half-demon. But how?
Demons are a heterogeneous species. Apart from the general underlying aura that identifies them as demons and their aversion to the Mors flower, they do not have much else in common. One thing, however, is common to all demons- their high intelligence, open-mindedness, and an overall dearth of inherent naiveté. No demon is naïve- they might be ignorant, but not naïve. Never naïve.
“I will answer whatever questions you have, tuakana, but you must answer one of mine first.”
“I captured you. I hold all the cards here.”
“Is that so?” Llearht smirks. Years of being a supreme messenger demon have tempered his resilience, making him immune to almost all forms of torture.
“Acting arrogant won’t help you.” Brandon refuses to be fooled by the demon’s demeanor. I’ve dealt with demons with far more spunk than him. The i***t stands no chance.
“Acting arrogant won’t help you either.”
“I have every right to act arrogant.”
“What makes you think you’re the only one with that right?”
“The fact that you’re the one in chains. Isn’t that obvious?”
Llearht nearly laughs out loud. Tuakana is stupid. How can one be so smart and yet so stupid at the same time? Reminding himself to not poke the bear too much, he settles for a smirk. One that Brandon so badly wants to wipe off his face.
“By the time I’m done with you, I doubt you’ll look so smug.”
“And what are you going to do to me?”
“Overeager now, are we? Calm yourself. We’re in for a long ride.”
“Such big talk for a small guy.”
“I’m not small.” Brandon clenches his jaw and a vein sticks out of the left side of his neck. The incarcerated demon notices this and inwardly crows. Finally, a weakness to capitalize on.
“Diminutive then. Or would you prefer abridged?”
“Would you prefer I cut off your tongue?”
“I guess those are not to your liking, tuakana. Maybe dwarf, shorty, half-pint, pygmy, puny, bantam, Lilliputian, stun-”
“Shut up!”
Llearth bursts into laughter, punctuated by random coughs. His laughing fit soon transforms into a bout of hacking coughs, incessant rattles and bloody sputters. Brandon immediately starts hitting his chest, first in an aggressive manner and then progressively reducing the intensity to a slight, barely felt pat on his chest and back. He then rushes to get a bottle of water from his refrigerator, unscrews the cap, and hands the bottle over to the minion from Hell who starts gulping greedily but soon erupts into another coughing fit. Seeing this, Brandon immediately snatches it from him.
“Are you dumb? You’re not supposed to drink it all at once.”
“C-careful there. I might actually think you care,” Llearth wheezes, his voice croaky and hoarse from all the coughing. Brandon merely snorts as he unceremoniously dumps the bottle of water on his lap and goes to seat on a nearby chair.
“There’s no need to be shy, pequeño. I understand.”
Brandon narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to unleash a slur of insults, but closes it immediately. Why am I even annoyed at him in the first place? He’s not worth losing my temper over. Reminding himself of the need for patience and self-control, he comes to a decision.
“We’ll continue this tomorrow morning. Perhaps, you’ll be more sensible by then.”
With that, Brandon tries to walk out.
- Writer
