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Compassionate Counselling Services



 
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Author

Compassionate Counselling Services enjoyed an excellent reputation that was well-deserved.  They helped many people.The service was expanding and today they welcomed another doctor to the practice.

Dr. Author arrived promptly at nine o clock and got some appreciative looks from some ladies on his way in.  He was 6’ 2” 210 pounds and quite muscular.  His body looked younger, but he appeared worn enough in the face to justify him being old enough to be an established psychologist.  His eyes were deepest blue and very intense when he directed his gaze; he was careful only to do that at the right time.  He wore khakis, a long sleeve button down black shirt and black wingtip shoes. He passed the time with the staff and he received his schedule for the day.  Feyre Archeron at 10am was the one he was looking for and he was pleased it was there.

Author entered his new office and admired it.  He had a black leather swivel chair and desk that appeared to be mahogany, but really wasn’t.  He had a desk lamp which glared on the file in front of him.  There was a black leather couch, a simple wooden chair and some low lighting.  He hadn’t put in any art pieces yet, just his diplomas.  According to them he was a doctor of psychology from Yale with an undergraduate in World Religions from Duke and a masters in counselling from the same.  None of it was true, but he considered himself far wiser than he would have been had he actually gone to those schools. Author was a demon, with centuries of experience in tempting and nearly two millennia in the torment division.  Field work always beat academics in his opinion.

He looked up at the clock, strategically placed so he could see it and his client could not.  It was ten minutes to the hour.  She should be here filling out the idiotic paperwork required for her ‘counselling’ session.  Like mortals, he hated paperwork even if he saw the need for it.  Author steepled his fingers.  He didn’t like Feyre and they had not yet met.

It was all a rush job.  He had been sent back to earth with 12 mortals to tempt and guide on the path to hell.  But then there was a message from an arch-demon that he had to take this case as well and do it face to face.  The case was an angel who supposedly was on the verge of making a discovery that could save mankind from damnation or doom them immediately.  Possibly she didn’t know any of this, but it was foreseen by the Infernal Powers.  As usual, this constituted an emergency and Author had to drop everything and see to it.  He hated his superiors; he hated their lack of patience and unwillingness to reason.  He would take all of this out on the creature that walked through that door.  He looked again at the clock, a minute had passed and then at the door, then down at the file.

He looked at her picture. He imagined her consumed in flames and writhing under the lash.  He shook his head and cleared the image.  Tempting an angel was hard. He knew the file, he knew his job was to tempt her away from a personal discovery, the rest he would have to figure out along the way.  “She had better not be late,” he seethed, as if her being on time would have helped her situation.  He took a deep breath to try and control his rage. She would pay for his masters’ sins. She would pay and pay and pay. 

May 03, 2019 08:06 am

Feyre Archeron


Feyre (like fairy) was late, for the first time, for an appointment. She had made an appointment with a new psychologist in town. She had never been to such human things, as an angel she didn't need this. But lately, she was consumed with nightmares, for a lack of a better word for the visions, the haunting visions she had been experiencing. She would have flown herself to the appointment if it wasn't weird to the humans and it couldn't stun them into a coma.

 

She had to run to get here in time and even then it seemed to be impossible. Now she was staring at the high building in front of her. Normally she would have chosen to spread her wings and fly tot he location. Ofcourse that would have been wrong, no human was ever to know the truth about the existence of angels and demons and any other creature. Also, they would have been stunned just at the sight of the glory of her wings. The pure light would have blinded them immediately. After inquiring for which way she had to go for her appointment and receiving some information she ran up the stairs. She couldn’t get tired, no immortal creature from heaven nor hell could ever get tired because of such a human act as running up the stairs. After three floors she reached the hall where she would find the office of the new therapist. 

 

When she finally reached his door it seemed to be open already so she just knocked before walking into the office as she had been told to do. Immediately she felt chills as she entered the room. She chose to ignore it, probably an open window. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, I normally never come late.” That wasn’t a lie, angels couldn’t lie, just hide the truth. “My name is Feyre, Feyre Archeron.” She said before she looked at the therapist and closed the door like she was told to. She stepped towards him and offered him a hand as she did with everyone she met.
May 03, 2019 02:56 pm

Author

Author was very angry that Feyre was late.  All the time he waited he thought up cruel punishments to give her. Then she arrived and he saw how beautiful she was, inside and the outside, completely beautiful with no ugliness in her at all.  He had not seen anyone so lovely since before the earth existed when all the angels sang together, before the war that made heaven and hell. She was not even showing all her glory, only a small amount, so that regular humans would not fall to their knees when they saw her.

He tried to hide the fact that he saw all this.  He just took her hand and shook it as was the human way of doing things.  He told her to make herself comfortable but did not say how.  If she would choose the wooden chair near the door she was nervous, if the couch then she was not nervous, if she lay on the couch then she trusted him already.  It was a test to see how fast Author could go.  He went and sat in his chair leaning back in it to seem relaxed (though actually he was nervous), took out some yellow paper and a pen then looked at her again and asked, "Tell me Feyre, how can I help you?  Its such an interesting name Feyre Archeron, what does it mean?

Author had asked two questions at once.  Again he was trying to find out something by which question she answered first or if she only answered one question.  If she was very upset by what had brought her, he thought she would start talking about it right away.  If she wanted to talk about little things like her name, then she was not in a crisis, but more puzzled.

His pen was above his paper ready to write and he did not move or speak anymore. He waited for her.

May 03, 2019 03:37 pm

Feyre Archeron


As Feyre had been told to make herself comfortable her insides turned a little. Not only was she doing the most human thing she never saw herself doing, but this place also gave her chills down her spine from top to bottom. She wanted to be as close to the door as possible but she decided that wasn't a good start if she wanted to know what was going on with herself. 

 

She seated herself on the couch but still looked quite nervous as she kept staring at her hands which she kept folded together on her lap. "You do realize if you want an answer, asking two questions at once is not going to be having a great effect." she said as to cover up her nervousness. "Archeron stands for Archer, although I have no idea why that is my last name. The name Feyre means beautiful or fairy." she said with a soft nervous giggle. "Lately I have nightmares, I know, it's normal to have those, but they feel like they consume me lately, they scare me in a way I have never felt before." she said again not being able to lie about it, but just keeping some parts out of her story. She wasn't quite sure as to whether she could trust him or not. Okay, he was a therapist and by the look of his degrees, he had some credibility. Still, she felt off talking about the visions, not that she named them to be visions as such.
May 03, 2019 03:59 pm

Author

"You do realize if you want an answer, asking two questions at once is not going to be having a great effect."

"A couple hundred lashes would do much to improve your attitude," was what Author thought, but he said nothing only wrote on his paper and waited for her to talk more, which she did and she answered both his questions and so proved his method correct.

Author did have an idea why Archer might be her last name, as it was an army position. If she had fought in the Great War in heaven, probably she fought with a bow and arrows.  Again he said nothing when she talked only nodded and sketched an angel fighting with a bow on his paper, he gave it great wings and the same hair as Feyre.

Then she talked about the nightmares, which Arthur was sure was related to the thing he must stop her doing.

"Tell me what was happening in your life when the first dream came.  How long ago did they start and do they come each night or only sometimes?"

Again he mixed up his questions for hidden reasons. He did not ask what the dream was, which she was expecting to be asked.  This he also did on purpose.

May 03, 2019 04:26 pm

Averly Amoret


The incessant clicking of heels against hardwood filled the small kitchen as she quickly worked her way around the tea kettle. Carefully, Averly placed the porcelain plates and cups upon a silver platter. Steam drifted into her vision as she poured the rich liquid from the tea kettle, the pleasant aroma of rose filling her nostrils with each breath. The glasses hugging her pert nose clouded with the continuous rising of the steam, and a small smile curved the corners of her pink lips as she used the hem of her blouse to wipe away the mist. 

Steady hands grasped at the handles of the tray, her freshly manicured claws caught her eye as they peeked out from beneath the tray as she lifted. With her inhuman grace, Averly strutted her way to the office closest to the kitchen entrance. The other receptionists at Compassionate Counseling Services had welcomed her with kind, open arms. Their enthusiasm for another lady around the office had been heart-warming, even if their trust in her was entirely misplaced. 

Her 7AM rise had been far too early for her liking, and she had nearly growled at the pointed black stilettos as she slipped them on her feet that morning. Arriving promptly at 8AM, the ladies around the office had shown Averly around the company kitchen, instructing her what utensils she was to use when serving and assisting the doctors. Averly detested all things matronly almost as she detested the prim and proper business casual attire she had donned that morning. 

A black pencil skirt hugged her generous curves with every sway of her hips, the white chiffon blouse tucked inside billowing with her every movement. The patient, Feyre Archeron had arrived only minutes before she had put on the tea kettle. Despite how Dr. Author felt about her tardiness, this had provided Averly with the extra time to brew a fresh pot of tea for the both of them. Along with the excuse to avoid learning more about the clerical work she was supposed to be doing. As they became acquainted, she was sure to slip a little something extra into the patient’s cup. 

Hugging the tray to her hip, Averly twisted the handle and let herself into the office. The tension was so thick she could have cut it with a knife, though she had half a mind to cut something else before she began slicing at the air. Feigning a smile at both Dr. Author, and Feyre, she carefully placed the silver platter on top of the mostly empty desk. It seemed the doctor still had decorating to do. His many certifications and degrees adorned the otherwise empty walls of his new office, which was a good distraction while her nimble fingers began pouring cream, and adding sugar while she blocked out the conversation at play. 

Placing both sets before the doctor and his patient, Averly gave a curt nod and slinked away. Back towards the door, she pushed the door back into place and quietly locked it. As long as Feyre didn’t turn around, she would have no idea that the receptionist serving her tea hadn’t left. Nor would she see her pulling out a brown sack from the folds of her skirt. Having tucked it securely in the band at the small of her back, Averly loosened the ties that would go around the small females neck. Not enough to choke, only enough to blind her during their interrogation which would begin after Feyre sipped on the tea placed neatly before her. 

Practically overflowing with anticipation, the feline smile that graced Averly’s lips was anything but sweet as she waited for the fun to begin.  
May 16, 2019 09:03 pm

Author

"Thank you miss," Author said as the tea was served without lifting his gaze from his prey.  Things had not gone well so far with Feyre, as she seemed to be unable to really explain the dreams or the source of them.  He was ready to go old school on her and the rage was building up in him so much that he was afraid smoke would come out of his ears.  He smiled a benevolent smile and spoke again with no sense of urgency.

"So, Feyre, you say there is a white light and a mysterious hand gives you a scroll, and you begin to unravel it but you can't read it. What did you feel should be on the scroll?"

Feyre squinted, bit her lip and then again lapsed into silence.

Author appeared to sip the tea bringing it to his lips and tipping the cup but not really drinking.  "Why don't you drink some tea and we'll try some breathing exercises. I realize this is hard for you.  Don't worry, we'll figure this out together."

The woman on the couch leaned forward and picked up the tea and took a tiny sip and then a bigger one. 

"Now relax, close your eyes and imagine blue skies and fresh air, breathe in, count to three, breathe out slowly."  Author mimicked the breathing pattern he wanted her to use. Trusting him, she obeyed.

May 16, 2019 09:32 pm

Averly Amoret


Averly’s heart began racing as Feyre lifted the porcelain teacup to her lips. The poor girl was unawares to the curare that had been carefully mixed into the liquid she sipped on, which only excited Averly further. Being the cruel, wicked woman that she was. The young witch had started to delight in the game of cat and mouse that she was paid to take part in. 

Dr. Author’s instructions would help the poison pass through Feyre’s system, and keep her from noticing Averly creeping up from behind her. As the porcelain cup was returned to its saucer, Averly slipped the sack over the golden-brown curls cascading down her back. Tightening the strings tightly around her neck, the feeling of her victim’s shoulders sagging let her know when to release her from her grasp. 

The feral look in Averly’s thunder blue eyes had become her signature look as of late. The feline smile distorting her features was accentuated by her predatory movements as she swung around the couch to observe Feyre’s sleeping form on the couch. 

“Well done, doctor.” Dragging her fingers down the length of the arm to the couch, Averly plopped down into the cushion beside Feyre’s slender form. The motion caused her body to tumble to the side, where Averly’s open arm was waiting to catch her fail. With a mother’s gentleness, Averly rested the girls head on her shoulder and patted the sack atop her head. 

“As for relocating, should we wait here for the office to clear? Or shall I throw her down the stairs to see if she wakes up?” 
May 17, 2019 09:04 pm

Author

Author was extremely relieved that Feyre had gone down without a fight.  There were so many unpredictable factors in play with an angel.  He smiled thinking of the terrible things he would do to her and how this would at least temporarily slake his unslakeable thirst for vengeance against her kind. He patted the motionless girl down, confiscating a golden cross necklace, her id and some money.   

He responded to Averly's question, "Its too dangerous to remain here, the interrogation will be loud and anyone might come in. Throwing her down three flights of stairs would pre-empt a lot of fun I have in mind. And you'd have to drag her and that's loud. So, I was thinking that if there's no one in the outer office but the receptionist, we could wait until she gets a phone call, which seems to be frequent.  You could go and distract her while I carry the package the 8 steps to the door with the stairs.  I checked the door earlier, its not locked or stuck, but it is heavy and might make a noise, so if you could rattle your teacups or sneeze or something when you see me go for it, I think that would probably do.  If anyone sees, we'll have to clean them up and that will take precious time.  If there is some kind of general alarm, I'll break her neck, my superiors would not want any chance of an escape. In such a case its every one for himself afterwards.  But assuming plan A goes well, you bring the car around and meet me at the door closest to the bottom of the stairs, blow the horn twice so I know you're out there, I won't leave the stairwell until I know you're ready, if I'm seen making that move, its too late to stop us anyway."

He fixed his eyes now on Averly.  She seemed to be taking great pleasure in this operation.  She had come highly recommended and at considerable cost, so even though the demon was not trusting by nature, there was no reason to have anything but confidence at this moment.

"If you see any flaws or have any better ideas, I'm open to hearing them, its not like I"ve done this before."

May 18, 2019 07:30 am

Averly Amoret


Chewing on her full bottom lip, Averly weighed the options over in her mind. She had no intention of actually throwing Feyre down the cement stairs in the stairwell, as that would have caused unnecessary noise and effort on her part. Too many bones would have been broken in the process, putting more of a damper on her fun than she would have allowed. 

Mrs. Jones, the office manger received and accepted frequent phone calls from her children. The snotty, homeschooled children she had birthed called her every half hour to pester their mother into bowing down to their every whim. In the short few hours Averly had known the woman, she almost pitied her for the disturbance. Where Mr. Jones was, Averly hadn’t the slightest idea. Though she suspected Mrs. Jones could have been a potential client under different circumstances. 

Their best bet was evident as Averly mulled over the social dynamics of the office. 

“Transporting her during Mrs. Jones phone call is our best bet. She should be retrieving one soon. Gather up what you need to, and I will take the tea out to the kitchenette across the hallway. When you hear three raps on the door, that’s when you know she’s receiving a phone call and I’m on the move to distract her further.” 

Considering their situation further, Averly added, her voice more hoarse than moments before. “I suggest taking the bag off of her head until you get her into the vehicle. If anyone should happen to see anything, you can say she came to the appointment inebriated and we are taking here somewhere more secure.” 

This wasn’t Averly first time, far from it. Though the circumstances shifted from job to job, some details would always stay the same. She had learned along the way how to save her own tail. Confident with her decision, she simply picked placed the porcelain wares onto the platter and exited the office with her arms full. She was sure to plaster a smile onto her pink lips and show off her straight, white teeth to the other ladies in the office. It wouldn’t be long until the majority had joined their doctors in their offices to either assist with patients or go through the details of their work that day. Averly had peeked at the schedule upon arriving that morning, to get a better sense of what she would be dealing with. 

Placing the untouched silver platter onto the marble countertop, Averly listened as a phone chimed an incoming phone call as if on cue with their devious plans. She listened as a disgruntled office manager answered the phone call with a clipped “Hello.” 

Averly moved silently over to the office she had excited only minutes before, tapping on the door thrice before closing in on the desk at the front of the outer office. Feigning a shy, embarrassed smile she leaned on the cherry colored wood of Mrs. Jones desk. The sweet, motherly woman held her finger up as if to say ‘one moment’ and mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” as she began arguing with the voice of a child on the other end of the phone. 

It would be in Dr. Author’s best interest to act quickly. 
May 18, 2019 09:52 pm

Author

"Got it" he nodded his assent, "Be sure to pop the trunk when you pull up the car, let's keep this operation sssmooooth."

When she exited, he pulled the bag off Feyre's head.  She had already lost a considerable amount of her exceptional beauty.  The eyes were lifeless and fixed in the middle distance, skin pallid, teeth clenched which contracted her jawline into an unflattering way, her lips starting to turn blue, sure signs of oxygen deprivation.  Her breathing was shallow, but steady.  "How the mighty have fallen," Author said to no one in particular.

When the knocks came, he was ready.  First he opened the door so he wouldn't have to fool with it.  He took a quick glance and as well to plan.  He picked up Feyre uncermoniously throwing her over his shoulder and walked with quick long strides to the stairwell door.  He caught Avery's eye, expecting she would create a distraction and then opened the door, walked through and closed it as quietly as possible.  It made a soft 'click' which inside the bare stairwell sounded loud.  He was committed, he had no idea whether he was undetected or not.  He went down the stairs in an unhurried fashion, deposited Feyre in such a way that she would be shielded by the door if it opened.   He opened the stairwell door and made sure the road was clear outside the rarely used exit.  It was. 

He went back to the cover of the stairwell and sat Feyre up on the second stair propped by the wall.

"Listen angel," he hissed at her, "you're going to sssuffer in ways mortals can't imagine, it will be the torture of the damned, I personally guarantee it.  If you tell me your sssecret, I will grant you the final mercy of death, but until then I will have you know that mercy is a concept quite foreign to my kind.  Yes, angel, I am a demon and you will pay for casting my kind to the gloomiest patch of the universe.  We lost that battle for heaven, but the war issss not over."  His tongue darted out now like a serpent as he tasted her face, her hair and her neck.  His hot breath, with a hint of sulphur, filled her nostrils.    

May 19, 2019 08:54 am

Averly Amoret


Averly’s thunderous eyes met Dr. Author’s for only a few seconds before she began covering her mouth and coughing. Tears welled up in her eyes as she feigned the fit, the office manager quickly putting down her ongoing phone call to rush to the young witch’s side. Peering through her tearfilled eyes, Averly watched as both Author and Feyre slipped through the door and down the stairs. 

Mrs. Jones was still rubbing her back and comforting her, fussing over Averly as though she were her own child. Her homely appearance and the warmth in her touch may have been comforting, if deception wasn’t already at play. 

“I’m afraid I may be coming down with something. I feel absolutely dreadful, but would it be alright if I ran to the clinic and came back to the office afterward?” She pleaded, a gleam in her eye as tears ran down her rouge tinted cheeks. 

A soft nod was all Averly needed to collect her purse and exit the office. It took only a few minutes to reach the parking garage where she climbed inside her car, popping the trunk and willing the engine to roar to life. She was sure to shoot the parking garage guard a saccharine smile as she peeled out of the exit. The road they would be meeting at was empty, as per usual but Averly was filled with relief as Author made his way out the door with Feyre in tow. Their plans had not been foiled yet, and they were right on schedule with whatever disastrous plans Author had intended for Feyre. 

“I’m afraid I may never trust therapists after this.” 
May 25, 2019 10:14 am

Author

The good doctor deposited Feyre in the trunk, closed it securely then hopped in the front seat.

"I'm afraid I may never trust threapists after this," Averly said.

Author raised his hands palm upwards then let them flop to his sides in a 'what can I do?' gesture.  

"Well," he said philosophically, "I can't please everyone."  He clicked his seatbelt and tried to look natural.  "Keep 'er at the speed limit and nothing fancy on the roads.  I'll be anxious to see what kind of torture chamber you've got set up.  It would take me weeks to put one together that I'd be proud of.  I did bring a few enhancements though."  He patted the pocket of his shirt.  It must have been something small as a casual observation would not have revealed a bump in the pocket.

He placed an envelope containing $5500 in American hundred dollar bills with non-consecutive serial numbers in the glove compartment of her car.  "That's for expenses, the final payment when we dump the body... oooh! gum! my mouth is so dry."  He helped himself to the pack of chewing gum in her glove compartment and offered her a piece before shutting it.

May 26, 2019 04:21 pm

Averly Amoret


Pink painted lips pursed at his rebuttal. Casting a glance towards him from the corner of her eye, she reeled in the eye roll that was begging to be thrown. 

“No, I suppose you can’t.” 

Clearing her throat, Averly switched gears so that the car moved forward. She would follow the instructions given to her, even if being guided like she was an insolent child drove her mad. Though this was her first assisted capture, this was not her first go around. If she was being truthful to herself though,  speeding wasn’t something she was interested in doing anyway. Lest they damage Feyre in an accident, or wake her before being question. 

Though she had not noticed anything sticking or protruding out from the pocket of Author’s shirt, the sudden transfer of money into her glove compartment was noticed even with her eyes glued to the road. The compensation for her diligent work securing an interrogation room, and getting hired so quickly into the office he was to be operating out of, was well appreciated. Averly decided then that she wouldn’t mind working on a future assignment with the doctor. She was being generously compensated. To the point that some would call her grossly overpaid. 

A sharp exhale of air escaped through her nostrils as he fussed over the pack of gum he spotted. Not much of a laugh, but it was as much emotion as she would show in the presence of her client. Still, Averly accepted the gum. Unwrapping it with one hand before she placed the stick in her mouth, her tastebuds overwhelmed by the ‘winterfresh taste.’ 

“The torture chamber, as you so eloquently put it,” she said between chomps. “Is located on the west side of town. An abandoned house on the outskirt of the city. I spent all night setting it up in preparation for today. It should exceed your expectation. The closest neighbors are about a mile away so we won’t have to worry about much noise as long as it’s contained.” 

Her driving was skilled and precise, as she turned corners and obeyed all traffic laws. For all the world they would seem like a pair out for a business meeting, and in a way they were. Their malevolent plans were hidden tightly under wraps, circulating within the confines of the vehicle. 

“Poor Mrs. Jones will be so disappointed her newest hire may never return for another day of work. I’ll have to send her a card.” 
May 27, 2019 06:16 pm

Author

"Poor Mrs. Jones will be so disappointed her newest hire may never return for another day of work.  I'll have to send her a card."

"Would you deprive her of the chance to play the martyr and complain about you to everyone who would listen?"

Author now moved his voice into the upper register and did an imitation of Mrs. Jones:  "I knew there was sumthin' wrong wit dat goil the moment i laid my eyes on her!  Would you believe that on her foist day...  oh shucks,"  he looked with surprise to his right hand, "its my little monstahs, excuse me I gotta take dis ca(w)ll."

Avery did not give him the satisfaction of a laugh. A couple of tense minutes passed as they drove on. Author debated how to handle the widening divide.

"I'm former military," he confessed.  "You work solo, and I have no reason to believe that you are anything but excellent in every regard.  But when you work on a team where lives are at stake, the rules are different.  Over-communication needs to be the rule.  If you think I might do something unsafe or stupid, tell me, call me an idiot if you have to, we do not have the luxury of politeness with lives on the line. This is a very dangerous foreign agent we've captured. You don't have to like me; you don't have to listen to me if you think I'm wrong, but you do have to communicate and remain committed to the mission. We have no one to depend on but each other right now."  

They pulled up at the house and Author was about to say something about parking in the back, but she did that on her own.   The yard was overgrown, almost two feet high, it had clearly not had anyone living there for quite some time. Author found a solid fallen tree limb and prepared to smash Feyre if she came out of the trunk fighting or fleeing.  He popped the trunk and took a step back.  She was still paralyzed.  He watched her a moment then picked her up and had Avery lead him into the house.

May 27, 2019 08:56 pm
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