by Quinn Loftis
“They really don’t deserve to live, Brudair.” The demon hissed. “You could be the instrument of justice that your Creator uses to make their wrongs right. Just think what kind of favor you would be doing the world by ridding them of this scum. The human justice system didn’t even do that. They let them live, they let them eat for free, exercise, and read books. What about their victims? Do these men really deserve to have such luxuries when their victims were raped, drowned, dismembered, and so much more? What kind of man are you if you let them live?”
His words made sense, Dair thought. Everything the demon said was true. There was no justice in these men living. There was no vindication for the people who were hurt by them. He couldn’t let them live.
He found himself back in their original cell, no longer inside the man’s mind. The demon was there, standing at the head of the small bed, stroking the man’s head like a loving parent. Dair took a step toward them and then another, and he was standing next to the man. All he had to do was reach out and touch him and tell his brain to make his heart stop beating. That was all he had to do. He had enough power to do it. Now that the demon had explained it, he knew he did. It would be so simple. And who would miss them? The world would be a safer place without them. All he had to do was touch this man, this criminal, this murderer, this scum of the earth.
“Brudair,” a new voice boomed into his mind. The demon screamed and lunged away from the man and from Dair. He continued to scream as if he were in pain.
“Brudair.” His name came again, and he knew who the speaker was.
“Creator,” he said, bowing his head and lowering himself to his knees.
“You do not decide who lives and dies. You can neither give life or take it.”
“They don’t deserve to live.”
“That is not for you to decide.”
“WHY?” he asked, his voice full of the anguish that was ripping through him as the images of Serenity being tortured and hurt in such gruesome ways repeated in his mind. “Why should these men live?”
“Because it is my will that they do.”
“THAT IS NOT JUSTICE!” His heart broke. If they lived, his love would die. There would be no way for him to know when one of them would attack. He wouldn’t be able to keep her safe. They couldn’t be allowed to live. His head fell forward until his chin was touching his chest. “I’m sorry, but in this I cannot obey.”
Chapter 13
Sexual dreams are…really self-explanatory
“You are mine.” Lucifer spoke into her mind and it sounded like a purr. Her head shook as she fought against the unnatural sleep into which he’d placed her. She was too weak. Her doubts and fears only continued to make her weaker.
Lucifer slipped into her mind and found her sitting in a field of dead things. Graves, bones, dead animals, and plants surrounded her. It was quite lovely. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.
She turned her head slowly to look at him. Tears streaked down her face, and her eyes were swollen and puffy. Her lips trembled as she stared at him. The hate for him that filled her was thick in the air. He could feel it radiating off of her like heat from a fire. Hate was good. Hate kept people from thinking rationally. He truly enjoyed irrational people.
“Go away,” she said in a small voice.
He chuckled. “I don’t think I will. I’ve grown quite fond of you.”
“You’re the devil. You aren’t capable of fondness.”
“Okay, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I have a sick fascination with you.”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed. It looked painful. He did love pain. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why not?” he asked. “You, well, frankly, you’re just too damn good. Too pure, and at the same time, influential. Those are attributes I don’t tolerate. Therefore, I have to do something about it. I can’t have you flitting about helping people and passing around warm fuzzies.”
She snorted. “Warm fuzzies? There is just something so wrong about those words coming from your mouth.”
He shrugged. “I could say I don’t want you spreading your damn, filthy goodness around because it makes me want to rip your heart out and eat it.” His voice had deepened, and the human guise he was wearing slipped just a bit. He forced it back in place. He didn’t feel like dealing with a hysterical female. He needed her to be able to think.
“What do you want from me?” she asked sounding tired.
“I want you to destroy Brudair,” he said simply.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I will destroy everyone you love. I will reign such horror down on your family that the walls in this house will run with their blood and forever be filled with their screams.”
She gasped. Yes, he finally had her attention.
Serenity was frozen with terror. Lucifer’s words reverberated in her mind, and all she could do was picture the lifeless eyes of her family and their blood on her hands. People talked about how evil the devil was; they had no idea. The sickness that surrounded him was so stifling, she felt as though she was being strangled by it. Destroy Dair? How? How on earth could she willingly destroy the man she loved? But how could she not? If she didn’t, her family would die in the most horrible way. Lucifer didn’t have to describe it. She had no doubt that he would make it as horrendous as possible. His evil creativity, no doubt, knew no bounds.
“How could I destroy him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“How are all men destroyed by their loves? Deception, unfaithfulness, disrespect, spite. Any and all of those should do.”
He said it with such nonchalance, as if he wasn’t asking her to cheat on the man she loved, to rip his heart from his chest and act like she enjoyed it. She was shaking her head before she could even answer. There was no way. It was not in her to do something so awful. She didn’t understand how anyone could do something to someone they claimed to love, even if they didn’t love them any longer.
“You don’t have a choice.” He snarled.
“There is always a choice,” she said breathlessly. “Always.”
“So you would murder your own family?”
She shook her head. “No, it would be you who would be responsible for their deaths.”
“But you could stop me, Serenity. You have the ability to prevent it and you won’t. That makes you responsible.”
She ducked her head and held it in her hands. How could she choose? How could she place the value of one life above another?
“I can see that I need to persuade you.” He purred. “I’ll leave you with this for a while. And when I return, perhaps you will have come to see reason.”
Serenity found herself in a room with tables lined up in rows. They weren’t empty. Her aunt, uncle, and Glory were laid on them. Sheets were covering them up to their neck. They weren’t dead. Not yet. A man walked in. His eyes were dead, lifeless, devoid of any hint of humanity. He looked at the people she loved, and suddenly his eyes were lit with a sick interest that made her prefer the previous deadness.
Darla was shaking, but she couldn’t make any noise. That’s when Serenity realized their lips were sewn shut. Serenity’s hand flew up to her mouth as a high-pitched sound emitted from her constricting throat. She couldn’t breathe as she watched him take a needle and thread and stick it through Glory’s eyelid. She thrashed, or at least tried to, but the restraints holding her were too tight for her to really move. A strap across her forehead held her to the table and all she could do was stare up in horror at the man who was humming and tugging the thread through her skin, pulling it taught. Serenity’s back hit a wall, and she slid to the ground. It isn’t real. She kept telling herself that over and over again. She was asleep; it was a nightmare, and her family was fine. She squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself to wake up. She whispered over and over, “Wake up, Serenity, wake up, dammit!” She prayed that Dair would show up and wake her up, but the longer she sat there the
more her certainty that he would show up waned.
When she opened her eyes again, the scene had changed. Now her family was hanging by their throats. Their dead eyes seemed to stare at her, filled with accusations. She could have prevented this. They knew it was her fault. All she had to do was sacrifice Dair, and then they would be safe and alive. But she was too selfish. She chose love over her family and they knew it. Their mouths may not have been moving, but they were screaming at her. Letting her know that she couldn’t hide from them.
Serenity covered her head with her arms, ducking it down between her legs, and rocked. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to be awake in her room with her aunt Darla sitting at the end of her bed, smiling and telling her everything was going to be okay. But no matter how badly she wanted it, she remained in the nightmare, as scene after scene of her family’s deaths played out before her. Her heart felt shattered inside her chest, and she found herself dry heaving, though nothing came up. Her throat was raw from the screams. Her nails were bloody from where she’d clawed at the ground. The pain did nothing, but she felt she deserved to be in pain since her family was also suffering. Several times she even walked on her knees toward their torturer and begged him to take her instead, but he ignored her or he couldn’t see her.
She just wanted it to end. “TAKE ME INSTEAD!” she yelled, knowing that Lucifer would hear her.
“You rang,” he said, suddenly appearing in front of her.
“I said take me instead. You want to destroy Brudair, then put me in the place of my family. Have one of those men do those things to me.”
Lucifer’s brow rose as interest entered his eyes. “Well,” he murmured as he stroked his chin. “This does have purchase. It would kill Brudair to see you gutted, raped, and otherwise tortured.”
She waited, hoping he would accept her deal. There was a sick humor in the fact that she was eagerly hoping he would agree to have her dismembered. But she would. To save them all, she would. Dair would get over her eventually. He was immortal. He’d have plenty of time to mourn her and move on. And yes, her death would be gruesome and horrific, but it wouldn’t last forever, right? She’d already been dead once. It wasn’t that bad. She wiped tears from her face and swallowed down the bile rising in her throat.
“Yes,” the devil finally said. “I’ll agree to that.” Then he was gone.
She was still asleep. Why was she still asleep, she wondered?
“You didn’t think I would give you a chance to escape?” His disembodied voice asked. “Oh no, sweet Serenity. You will lie there until your executioner finds you. That way I know Brudair will know where you are and will be sure to see every single minute.”
Darla shook her niece’s shoulder again. “Serenity, wake up, honey.”
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Glory asked, as she chewed on her bottom lip and shifted her feet from side to side.
Both women were wondering if they should start panicking. “I’m not sure. Go get me a glass of cold water.”
Glory’s brow rose in question.
“Yes, Glory, I’m serious,” she said dryly. “Now, hurry up.” Once she realized that Darla was indeed serious, she jumped into motion.
Darla continued to try and wake her niece. She even smacked her face a little, not too hard, but hard enough that it should have caused even a sleeping person to flinch. But Serenity didn’t even shift. Where was Dair? She wondered for about the twentieth time.
Glory returned and held the glass out to Darla but then pulled it back. “Sorry, but I may never have this chance again.” Without pause she flung the contents of the glass toward Serenity, and it smacked her on the face. Nothing.
“What the hell?” Glory said under her breath. “That was not how I expected that to turn out. It’s not fun if she doesn’t wake up sputtering and glaring.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “I’ll be sure to let her know how put out you were when we get her awake.”
“Should I call 911?” Glory asked.
Darla took Serenity’s pulse. It was a little fast but not dangerously so. Her breathing was normal; her color was normal. Everything seemed okay. All except for the fact that she wouldn’t wake up.
“Yes,” she nodded. Wayne wasn’t home and Dair was MIA, and Darla was extremely grateful that Glory had decided to pop in, as if driving out to the middle of nowhere wasn’t out of her way.
Darla wrung her hands as she stared at her niece. For the second time since Serenity had been in her care, she was in harm’s way. How would her sister feel if she knew that Darla hadn’t been able to protect her only daughter? Her gut clenched, and she took Serenity’s hand in hers. “Please, Sarah Serenity, please don’t leave us.” She sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and began to sing the first thing that came to her mind. It was an old hymn her mom used to sing to her. The hymn used to frustrate Darla because the words were rarely germane to the situation at hand. Like when her mother had sat beside their father in the hospital, having to watch him waste away until he finally died. Her mother had sung “It Is Well, With My Soul,” over and over again. How could it be well with her soul when her husband was being taken from her and not in a peaceful way? He was in pain, and they could do nothing to ease it. How could that be well with her soul?
She’d asked her mom that very question, though she’d been yelling it at the time. Her mom had looked at her, her eyes filled with love, and said, “Because it is not for me to question. It is for me to trust and to be here for your father. What he needs from me is my love, my presence. Not my anger, not my regret, not my fear, none of that. He needs my love. He needs to see that it’s okay for him to go. It’s okay. I will be okay because God has always taken care of us.”
It had taken Darla awhile to understand. She’d had some maturing and growing to do, but eventually she did. As she sung the words of the old hymn, she wasn’t sure she could ever actually mean them if something happened to Serenity. So she prayed desperately that she wouldn’t have to find out.
“They’re on their way,” Glory said as she hurried back into the room. “Wayne’s on his way home too.”
Darla nodded but didn’t take her eyes off of Serenity, as if her eyes could somehow force the young woman to wake.
“She has to be okay,” Glory whispered. “She has to be.”
Emma drew an x in one of the empty places on the paper where Raphael had drawn a tic-tac-toe board. She waited for him to make his move, and then she made hers. It ended as the last ten games had, with her winning. She’d had her first day back to school since the horrible attack and Raphael had done a good job masking her injuries. What did show through was explained away as a bruise received from falling off a swing set at Mr. Jones’s house (not that he actually had a swing set, or anything that might be remotely child-friendly). Mrs. Sunder had given her a questioning look, but pushed her no further for a different explanation. By the time she got back to her current place of residence, she was very tired.
“How are you doing?” Raphael asked her. She could hear the caution in his voice. He was going to treat her like she was made of glass. She wouldn’t let him do that because it kept her the victim. She was a survivor; there’s a difference.
“Rafe,” she said, staring at him until he finally looked her in the eyes. “One day I will need to talk to someone. I know that. But that day is not today. It can’t be. This…” She motioned in the direction of the school from where they sat on the porch. “Whatever this is, is bigger than me. I know you are just trying to help, but please don’t treat me like I’m broken. I’m wounded, but I will heal.”
He gave her single nod. “As you wish.”
“Thank you.”
They spent the rest of the late afternoon and evening playing pointless games and avoiding Reginald Jones, which wasn’t hard to do considering he was passed out from being drunk or high or both.
“How is Serenity?” Emma asked.
Raphael sighed. “Dair said she’s still having nightmares, an
d the king of hell has taken an interest in her.”
“Oh, wow. That’s not good.” That was an understatement, and Emma knew it. “He hasn’t been able to do anything about the dreams?”
Raphael shook his head. “This evil that is closing in on you both is strong. It has a firm hold on the people who have managed to come in contact with you.”
“What are we going to do?”
“What we always do,” he answered. “We fight.”
“Fighting is good sometimes. Sometimes it’s necessary, but sometimes it’s necessary to retreat.”
“Yes,” Raphael agreed. “This is not a time to retreat. This is a time for us to band together and keep the evil at bay.”
Emma agreed with him. She just didn’t know what that would look like. Obviously, she wouldn’t be brandishing a sword on a battlefield, cutting down four-legged demons with teeth like razors and eyes black as night. So how would they fight it? Her mama used to say that the things that were kept in secret were often the things that were the most dangerous.
‘Emma Jean, if whatever is in a dark corner in your life makes you scared for others to find or know, then you can bet it’s something you need to shine the light on and expose. Darkness loses its power when it cannot hide.’ She could hear her mama’s voice as clearly as if the woman was sitting right there with her.
“We fight by exposing the evil,” Emma said, thinking out loud.
“Exactly,” Raphael said.
“Do we know what it is we are trying to expose?”
“No, but we have an idea. Somehow, we need to rip open the secrets that are hiding inside of your school. I have a feeling that is where it starts.”
“Principal Flannigan,” Emma said, knowing she was right.
“Yes. I believe he’s at the center of it all. We just have to be able to prove it.”
“How do we do that?” she asked.