A Fiend

Mason took the cup with feigned enthusiasm so as not to arouse Mirabelle's suspicion.

"Who would reject Joy at such a blissful moment?" he laughed. Mirabelle seemed to fall for it, because she smiled too, licking her lips again and again. Mason put the cup to his lips as though to drink, and he moaned softly.

"This is heaven!"

Mirabelle dropped her cup and stared lasciviously at him. Mason spun toward the guard standing beside the door and waved his hand. "Can you leave us alone?" he said, blinking.

The guard grunted but said nothing. That's a protest, Mason assumed.

"Are you going to watch me fuck your Mistress?" he continued. That raised tension, and Mason saw the guard approaching menacingly.

"What a naughty man you are, Mason," Mirabelle laughed hysterically, her voice echoing through the room. "Leave us alone, Data."

The guard paused his advancement, his glaring eyes fixed on Mason.

Data!? Is that even a name? Mason laughed within. He turned to the guard, who was still hesitating, and continued, "Hope you're aware you're not allowed to enter even if you hear her screams?"

Data widened his eyes, his face contorted in confusion and alarm.

"Screams!?"

"Yeah, Joyful screams of course," Mason whispered, prompting Mirabelle's laughter, which had been dissipating to burst forth.

Data stormed out, perhaps annoyed at being teased by a newcomer. But Mason couldn't care less, he was just getting started with the Mistress of the drug ring.

Double sure Data was gone, Mason turned to meet Mirabelle's gaze, then his gaze captured a painting on the wall beyond her.

"What's that?" He pointed. The Mistress turned around, and Mason took advantage of that momentary distraction and switched the drinks.

"Ohh! I got that from my father," Mirabelle replied and turned back to face Mason. "That is the standard of my organization."

"An undead?" 

"It's called a lich; a person who gives up their body to become an immortal spellcaster."

"Damn, how's that concerned with your organization? Are you guys–"

"Of course not!" Mirabelle laughed. "We give up our bodies to become rich and powerful. Either by service to wealthy government officials or…" She paused and took a sip from the cup in front of her. "Why am I even telling you that? Did you bewitch me or something?"

"Well… It's not like I care about any of this," Mason said, maintaining a nonchalant demeanor.

"So tell me, Mason," Mirabelle said as she stood up from her seat and staggered toward him - perhaps the drug is taking effect on her. "Will you work for me? We'll have… fun and make money… together at the same time. You'll be the Boss, and I'll be your lady... What do you say?"

Mason watched as she threw herself on the couch beside him and leaned in, her Joy-full cup held aloft.

"And… you better not decline, otherwise I'd call my guards to make you accept," she added, her lips a few inches from his.

Of course, Mason doesn't expect her to let him go so easily. Female drug dealers are known for their obsession over the man they love. He brushed his lips against hers and leaned back.

"Bottoms up!" he cheered, raising his cup from the table and downing it all.

"No!! Don't drink it all!" Mirabelle stretched her hand to stop him, but it was too late; the cup was now empty. "That's not too bad, either. It'll be fun, anyway." 

She smiled and gulped down the contents. She dropped the cup on the rug and moved closer to Mason once more, her lips twitching forward.

Mason grinned mischievously as he watched her fight for her consciousness, shaking her head violently to get rid of the drowsiness.

"What have you done, Mason?" she said pitifully, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you switch the drink? You won't get out of here alive if my guards find out."

"They won't," Mason replied, smiling. "And I won't join your drug ring, I have a reputation to maintain."

"Huh, Mason. I… I really love you. Sincerely," Miribelle whispered. "Data!!" she suddenly called, mustering all her remaining strength before slumping. Her voice wasn't that loud for someone outside to hear; however, for some reason he couldn't fathom, Mason was worried.

"Fuck!" Mason said as he heard the door open and Data came in. As the guard saw his Mistress lying sprawled on the couch,, his eyes hardened.

"You're not supposed to hear, how did you?" 

"I heard all your conversation from the beginning, bastard!" Data said through clenched teeth and charged aggressively.

Mason's eyes caught an earpiece lodged in his left ear. The guard had been eavesdropping on their conversation all along! Mason sighed in disappointment. Does he expect the drug lord to be totally unprotected?

He wouldn't stand a chance against this man, but he was not going to watch himself being beaten either; he won't go down without a fight. After all, he survived against the demonic assassins, this was a little compared to them.

He grabbed the bottles on the table and adopted a fighting pose. If Data saw the bottles he was holding, he paid no attention to them. Perhaps he assumed a dangerous weapon held by a child is just meant to inflict self-injury.

Suddenly, just as the guard was about to reach Mason, he fell to the ground and curled into a ball, convulsing. Just then, Mason heard a soft click from behind. He glanced and saw the painting of the lich on the wall shifted to the side, revealing a circular entrance.

An oddly familiar lady emerged, dressed in an almost transparent short gown that didn't reach her knees. She smiled charmingly at Mason as she hit Data, who was still writhing on the ground, with her leg, sending him into unconsciousness.

"You look cuter," she said, eyeing Mason.

"And you look the same, Nathalie," Mason replied. He'd met Nathalie two years ago at the boutique where he was first made to do a model. She'd flirted with him then when Raymond was shopping for him.

Mason wondered how the boutique employee happened to be in Washington and now in the drug ring.

"I was just a bar girl here, no need to give me such a look," Nathalie said, as though she was listening to his thoughts. She probably was. "You're such a difficult man to find, Mason."

"Are you telling me you're in Washington looking for me?" 

Nathalie snickered. She was just as beautiful as Mason had seen her two years back. She looks younger now. Strange. Her dark hair fell downward far below her shoulders.

"I've never had difficulty locating people in my life, but I spent a whole year looking for you," Nathalie said, and she laughed. "And here you are, right in front of me. Whatever hid you all these years did a great job."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Mason frowned. "Track? A whole year looking for me? You're not making sense. Are you a secret agent?"

Nathalie threw back her head and burst into another whoop of laughter.

"Secret agent? You compare me to such an amateur?" she said. "You won't believe it if I told you what I am anyway. First things first, let's get rid of that artifact of yours."

Mason furrowed his brows in confusion. She referred to herself as What rather than Who, causing Mason to start getting suspicious. 

His instincts screamed SHE'S NOT HUMAN! But he had known her two years ago. Could she have become something else within that period? She also said she's been searching for him for a year. Could she have become one of the assassins?

Nathalie moved closer to Mason, who stepped back. "What are you doing?"

"Give it to me, Mason," she demanded. 

"Give you what?"

"The artifact."

"What artifact?"

"You had something that masked your scent, give it to me."

"I have no such–" Mason paused reflectively. Could it be my necklace she was referring to?

"Something like that. Does the necklace protect you?" Nat asked.

"Did you just read my thoughts?" Mason said in terror. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm a Succubus," Nat replied. "Now give it to me."

"You mean, the mythological creatures that seduce and drain men's energy?" Mason's eyes widened.

"I'm not a creature! And don't you dare call me that again!" Nat retorted. "I'm a fiend; a demon, respectfully."

"I'm dead."

"No, you're not. Now let me have that necklace, and I'll decide what to do with you afterward."

The assassins and bat-like creature Mason had seen previously made him believe Nat. Otherwise, he would've been shocked to death. He was supposed to be extremely scared. However, the only thing he felt now was amazement and shock.

"I don't have the necklace, can you help me find it?" he asked.

"You think I'd be stupid enough to help you find something you'd use to ward me off?" Nat groaned, and she rolled her eyes. "Now you're mine." She smiled mischievously.

"I belong to no one!" Mason declared. "And I'm not going to fall for your tricks!"

"You amuse me, human," Nat laughed. "I'm a fiend capable of bewitching even the most stoned-hearted man. Of course, you have no choice but to fall for me." 

With an inexplicable swish, she was right in front of Mason. Her eyes were glowing a yellow light, as though the very essence of hell was in the eyes.

"DHA'KLEH ESTUL!"