Devour-short story

 

Pronunciation 

Baobhan Sith baa-van shee 

On any normal Friday night, I would be in my French Quarter apartment, relaxing after a long day of work. I would be reading a book with a warm cup of spearmint tea, my little gray kitten Smokey curled in my lap. I would take a hot bath with a lilac and vanilla candle and a bath bomb, then change into comfortable pajamas and go to bed by ten o’clock. Unfortunately, tonight was not a normal night. Stories worth telling rarely are.

Have you ever spent a night in a hot, humid Louisiana Bayou during a heat wave? The wet stick of your clothing to your skin as you move through air that feels like soup—the chorus of crickets and frogs blending with the movement of rustling plants and moving water that might be an alligator. If you’re unlucky, there will be bugs, lots and lots of annoying buzzing bugs. I was, unfortunately, very unlucky. 

I stood outside of a large tan barn with a cartoon-style caricature of two smiling alligators with a fire pit between them on the stop. The fact that my cousin had called this place “charming” when he’d told me about his wedding venue, and actually seeing it had been the only fun thing about my night. Weddings tend to make the older folks notice who is still alone. It had been a night full of constant questions and defences for why I’m still single, and why I’m not trying harder to find someone. It’s not that I wasn’t lonely, but fishing in a small pond full of people you’ve known for your entire life can be a bit tricky. It can be even worse if you are entirely plain-looking, into women, and too feminine or too much for most of the locals. 

I let out a loud breath before heading closer to the water and away from the reception. The music and the laughter of the guests finally grew softer the farther I walked. I didn’t want to be the miserable one at the event, but the reality was that tonight had been very hard, and I just wanted it to be over. 

I checked the time on my phone screen again, frustrated that it was still too early to politely leave. Suddenly, I heard the snap of a branch beside me. Looking all around, I couldn’t see anyone or anything among the dense trees and hanging moss. Then, another snap, and a soft giggle. A chill ran down my spine as I felt my adrenaline spike. 

“Who’s there?” I called, only to hear another soft giggle. I turned to head back towards the barn and the safety of other people. The barn seemed so far away from me, I didn’t remember walking as far away from it as I had. 

“Don’t leeeave,” the voice called, and I froze, whipping around. It had sounded directly behind me. The creature standing there was like nothing I had ever seen before. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. She had long, silvery-white hair and skin so pale it almost glowed. Deep green eyes in a heart-shaped face. Plump, rosy lips and soft pink cheeks. I swallowed hard. Her long, emerald green dress hugged her curves in all the right places and skimmed the ground. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. 

“Y-you scared me,” I stuttered out. 

“Did I?” she asked, smiling sweetly at me. I swallowed hard again. “I’ll just have to make it up to you,” she purred as she reached out and ran her fingers down my cheek. I was suddenly all too aware of how visible the hard peaks of my pierced nipples were under the blue silk dress I was wearing. I knew I should have worn a padded bra, I chided myself. Her smile seemed to widen even further as I thought the words.

“What’s your name?” I finally managed after what felt like too many seconds of silence and direct eye contact. She moved her thumb slowly down along my jaw before gently brushing and pulling at my bottom lip. Her eyes looked hungry. 

“My friends usually call me Jezebel,” she answered. Her voice sounded so seductive, causing a dull aching throb between my legs. She was so close to me now. She smelled like a wonderful blend of the bayou's sweet floral blooms and earthy Spanish moss. A part of my mind knew that something wasn’t right here, but a far stronger part of me wanted her even closer. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted her. It had been so long since I’d felt the touch of a woman, and one this beautiful had never shown this much interest in me. 

“You’re so–” she cut me off with her lips on mine. She tasted sweet like the powdered sugar on a fresh beignet. I wanted to taste her more. 

“Let me take your loneliness away,” she whispered as she broke the kiss.

 “Please,” the word left my lips before I could even think. Then her lips were back on mine. She was running her fingers down my neck, the sharp tips of her nails scratching as she moved. Over my shoulders, to the thin straps of my dress, sliding them slowly down. The hunger in her eyes when they met mine was even more intense as she revealed my breasts, and continued to slide the dress down my body to the tops of my hips. “You look so delicious,” she groaned. My thin cotton panties were soaking wet. I wanted to tell her she could have me, but the words stuck in my throat. I had a moment of hesitation, something didn’t make sense about this, about her. Then she moved and took one of my nipples into her mouth. She swirled her tongue over it, then bit ever so slightly, drawing a moan of pleasure from me. The next thing I knew, my back was pressed against the wide trunk of a large bald cypress tree. Her fingers were moving again, scratching down along my sides, the top of my hips. Her fingers slid into the band of my panties, pulling them to my feet and tossing them in a heap with my dress. 

“Don’t stop,” I begged breathily. She responded by cupping my ass and slightly digging her nails in. I felt her break skin, felt the blood smear as she slightly squeezed, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I let my hands reach out for her body, and she moaned at my touch. She was a consuming thought; nothing else mattered in that moment. 

“Tell me what you want, Camille.” My brain registered that she knew my name. I didn’t remember telling her my name, but her soft lips moving down my body stopped my thoughts. “Tell me,” she demanded. 

“Taste me,” I begged. Her lips continued, sending shivers all over my body and making my legs feel like jelly. Then she was on her knees, one of my legs over her shoulder as I could feel her hot breath just above my clit. “Please, taste me!” I begged louder this time. 

“As you wish,” she purred. I bucked my hips as her tongue moved over my swollen clit. The pain of her nails digging deep into my thighs, pushing me even closer to a climax. I could feel the smirk on her face as she felt my body tensing at my approaching release. She slowly dragged her nails along my inner thigh as she applied more pressure to my clit, and the swirling circles her tongue was making spend up. My body quaked, and I felt the orgasm hit my body harder than ever before. Then, sharp, sudden, and searing pain where her hand had rested seconds ago.

I don’t know when I closed them, but my eyes flew open as I screamed and looked down at her. Her mouth was pressed into my thigh, scarlet red dripping on the ground as she licked

and sucked at the gash she had torn in my skin. Her posture had turned feral–hunched over like an animal devouring a carcass–her dress bunched around her knees during our activities, revealing inhuman cloven hooves. I was newly aware of the cuts scattered across my tan skin, the smudges of scarlet dotting almost my entire body. As the situation I was in registered, panic flooded through my bloodstream, but I couldn’t move. 

“What are you?” I demanded in a shaking voice. She paused and turned a blood-soaked, smiling face to me. Her eyes were filled with what I could only describe as a blend of glee and madness. 

“Ssshhhhh,” she lulled me. I wanted to ask what she was going to do to me, but the words wouldn’t come. Her smile widened, becoming more ferocious. “I’m going to devour you, of course,” she said as if it were obvious. “Can’t you tell, I’m starving.” She got to her feet slowly, never breaking eye contact, and kissed me again. I could taste myself on her lips now. I felt myself melting into her, then the slow, dragging feeling of her sharp nail as she sliced through my throat. Her glowing green eyes, the last thing I saw before nothingness.

***

The celebration continued without a thought for Camile Moore. It would likely be several days before anyone noticed that she had completely disappeared. There would be no body discovered in that bayou, no discarded clothing found on the damp ground. No one would see the blood stains on the bark of the tree where her throat was slit. At most, the authorities might have considered it an infrequent occurrence of an animal attack if they did, because most humans don’t like to look too closely at strange things.

I don’t tend to think of her often, the woman who died that night. She had been ideal prey; weak-willed, lonely, forgettable, and willing. She agreed to the terms of the deal, even if she hadn’t known what she was agreeing to. The creature had granted her wish, after all. As the blood drained, she was released from her hollow feeling, stagnant life.

The water rippled before me, drawing me from my nostalgic moment. I could still see parts of her in that reflection, but the dull eyes, well-trained smile, and faux confidence were all but a distant memory. The creature looking back at me now was not prey, but a wild and feral predator. 

I’m sure you’re used to the archetypal tales of the Baobhan Sith, if you’ve ever heard of our kind at all. Those stories with warnings to beware of temptations, avoid isolation, never give in to uncontrolled desire, and the like. 

None of that applies here. Instead, I leave you with what I learned: beautiful things sometimes hide deadly and transformative secrets.