Illusions of Evil (Illusions Series Book 1)

by Lily White

  You're meat, pulled open and tenderized while the pain whistles across you. But once you're clean, once every last ounce of the sin you carry is lifted and banished into the ether, you’re free. A bird flying high. A dolphin gliding through water. You are lost in a moment of pure bliss that is a comforting hug in the warm morning sun.

  Only Elijah could give that to me.

  Created. Molded. Shaped and formed I was what he wanted. I was what he alone knew existed inside me. But for all his power, all his wisdom and his strength, he was never able to remove the doubt I carried.

  I loved him and feared him. Worshipped him and despised him. I couldn't live without him, even while knowing he would one day kill me.

  The shuffling of feet quieted, the soft thud of bodies settling over the pews, and the sharp clatter of keys slapping against the wood from where the rings hung on the parishioners' belts.

  Only one set of footsteps could be heard. Low and rhythmic, they approached the altar and pulpit, beats measured by a steady gait, the powerful and seductive walk of a predator.

  "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I thank you for gathering together with me today."

  Elijah's voice was a low hum across the room, a soothing melody in a rich tenor, a tone that was as soft as it was fierce. My heart sped at the sound of it.

  "I'll start off this meeting with an explanation to those few who were invited. You'll notice there are no women or children in attendance, and the only people here tonight are the few men who I didn't doubt were ready to protect the serenity of their small town."

  Grumbles of understanding and murmurs of approval were the harmony accompanying Elijah's words.

  His manner of speaking was casual, a group of men discussing simple politics. There was no rush to the point, no emotions beyond the soothing laziness of a well-trained voice. I fell easily into the hypnotic lull of a peaceful summer afternoon just like the others.

  Silence for only a moment. Broken when Elijah spoke again.

  "I had a female parishioner approach me this week, gentlemen. She came to confess, came to speak in earnest about the sins she'd committed outside of town. I know this woman well, as do many of you. And it pains me to find that she's fallen for the Devil's seductive temptation."

  He paused, his voice deepening. "She's possessed, it appears. Possessed by a demon that could infect your children...your wives."

  More murmurs erupted, a few sharp inhalations of breath that exposed the shock felt by a few of the men in attendance.

  "We owe it to this woman to help her. More than that, we owe it to ourselves to protect our families from the threat staring us in the face." Another drawn out pause before, "May I speak frankly, Mr. Prete?"

  The man's response wasn't oral, but he must have given some indication that Elijah could go on.

  "We haven't always seen eye to eye have we, Mr. Prete?"

  Another silent answer.

  "And I think most of the people in this room know why. But for those who don't, I'll state the facts of the situation as delicately as possible. Annabelle Prete was a good girl. She was a believer in the Almighty, a young woman with a bright future ahead of her. She made her father proud and the town right along beside him. She was going somewhere."

  I could hear Elijah pacing slowly to my right, his steps the only sound breaking apart the silence pregnant with trepidation and hesitant interest. It would have smothered me beneath its heavy weight if not for Elijah moving around.

  "Annabelle is dead, and between what was said to me in her last confession and what was sent to me by an unknown person outside of town, I'm concerned that the spirit infecting the woman seated next to me was the same one that infected Annabelle."

  His steps stopped.

  "I won't show the pictures, but I can tell you they were indecent, immoral, and utterly shocking. They were porn, images of a young girl who didn't know she'd lost her way. Disturbing as they were, they only verified what the young woman said to me before she died. More disturbing than that was my behavior toward Mr. Prete following the death of his daughter. I was so full of righteous fury and intolerable regret following Annabelle's death that I'd forgotten the discussion I'd had with Mr. Prete. At least until he reminded me."

  I remembered the girl's death, recalled that it changed Elijah in a way I couldn't understand. While I'd always feared the power inside him, I'd been shown a softness I never knew existed. The first few days in the parish, he'd tended to me with a gentle hand. Resisted me until I'd cried believing I'd been rejected.

  When he resumed his attentions on me, the first few times had been a caress of healing hands and sensual teeth. But after that girl died, after he witnessed a woman lost to the demons that plagued her, his attentions on me had changed.

  The pain was exquisite, yet agonizing. His fear that I'd be lost as well driving him to exhaustion as he worked his magic inside me, as he battled and fought the sin that filled me until I was practically screaming.

  Elijah had changed from one man into another. I couldn't understand why that change frightened me. Perhaps I was coming to life for once in my life, or perhaps I was being dragged back into the veil of ignorance and doubt that had always consumed me.

  "I want to apologize to you, Mr. Prete. For both my weakness and my cruelty. I'm sure having lost one of your daughters, you can understand the pain I was feeling."

  Mr. Prete wasn't much of a talker and it drove me a little mad that I couldn't see what was happening in the room.

  "I was unable to save that young woman from whatever sickness plagued her. I was unable to guide her away from whatever monster it was that stole her virtue and took pictures of the crime he committed against her - the pictures he thought necessary to send to me."

  My breath caught. I knew what was coming. Elijah's voice grew in strength as he spoke his next words.

  "I couldn't save Annabelle, but I can save this woman. However, I'll need a strong body around me, a group of men whose faith in the Lord is without doubt. I need prayers, gentlemen, while I exorcise the demon ensnaring this young woman. Can you offer that to me despite what you see? Can you bless me and this suffering child of God with your participation and understanding?"

  The men in attendance spoke, each acknowledging that they would give Elijah whatever help he needed. Faceless voices in different pitches and tones, each one resolute in their agreement that my sin needed to be cleansed.

  "We'll begin," Elijah announced. "Eve. Please walk to me."

  My legs barely held me as I stood, but I managed to cross the distance between us, was able to remain on my feet at Elijah's side. I wondered if the pain would be excruciating.

  "This may shock you, gentlemen, but I believe desperate times call for desperate measures. She has the demon of lust inside her. Its sharp claws are entangled in her heart, its razor sharp teeth embedded in her soul. It's stolen her virtue and sanity, her ability to think clearly in the face of temptation.”

  His hand touched my shoulder. I lifted my eyes to see the men sitting in attendance. My gaze stilled when it locked on the faces of my father and brother. There was no fighting the tears that fell.

  "Eve," Elijah said, "We'll need you to confess before we can drive the demon from you." His voice softened. "Can you do that for me?"

  I almost laughed. He'd never asked me that question before. Normally he demanded a confession out of me.

  "Yes," I finally answered.

  The fabric of the hood slid from my head as he removed it, the cloth sash tying the robe around my body loosened until the robe itself was pulled from my shoulders. When they witnessed my nudity, some murmured in surprise while others stared at the parts of me that brought on my shame.

  Fully exposed, I was the spectacle of a woman's deception.

  "Calm down, gentlemen, I know this is uncomfortable. But if we are to help this woman we need to stand in witness of her shame and degradation. We need to believe in the Father who will lend us his strength in casting out the evil that h
olds her captive. We need to look upon her with the eye of pity rather than that of lust. It is just a naked body, one with a natural purpose that has been used to the Devil's advantage.

  The hum of conversation grew quiet and I was directed to stand between two large posts, my face turned to the stained glass window, my arms bound above my head and to the sides of my body - cuffs attached to the posts that would secure me in place.

  A shudder of doubt rolled through me, most likely the demon shaking beneath the knowledge that it would be expelled.

  My head fell forward.

  "Confess, Eve. Tell God your sins so that your penance will cleanse them from your body."

  More murmurs of surprise erupted just before the strike of a whip cut into my back. The scream that burst out of me was unholy, my tears hot and steadily flowing as I forced myself to speak.

  "I've had disgusting thoughts," I breathed out, trying and failing to add any strength to my voice. The burning line across my back felt like it seeped beneath my skin to set my lungs on fire. I couldn't draw in air, could barely think past the sting of purification. "Thoughts that no person should have."

  Another strike and I screamed again, my throat torn by the sheer volume, my jaw aching from how wide I stretched my lips. My wrists shook in the cuffs that held them, my legs giving out until I couldn’t find the ability to push to my feet again. Tears dropped to the floor beneath me, small, wet puddles of evidence that could be used against me. Those same tears soaked into my lips, the salt flavor of my agony coating my tongue.

  Through sobs, I called out, "I've wanted immorality, craved sensuality, exposed my body and tempted men. I let one touch me. Let him press his naked body against mine." A terribly deep sob racked me. "He wasn't my husband."

  The next strike of the whip cut through the cries of surprise and grunts of disapproval from the audience. Voices picked up, prayers being repeated as the men witnessed my shame. I wasn't sure my knees would hold me much longer.

  Memory took me back to that night on the road, the night I'd willfully shown my body to a man who wasn't Elijah. For months I'd believed he'd forgiven me, but in a state of panic about my eternal soul, Elijah had remembered within the last few days, all because I'd confessed what happened that night had become a fantasy.

  Not the man. Never him. Just the way he'd controlled me.

  "I invited the man to look at me," I breathed out before the whip came down again. The snap of leather caused my body to jump. The burning strike against my skin driving the breath from my lungs. My voice cracked and splintered beneath the strain of pure torture.

  Euphoria settled in as I hung limp from the cuffs that bound me, and I felt free once again, slickness evident between my thighs.

  The whip stopped, its weight dropped to the floor at my feet.

  Elijah stood silent for only a few seconds before turning to the audience and claiming, "Gentlemen, the purge of evil has begun."

  JACOB

  Darkness doesn't settle, it consumes.

  Flames of burning onyx, smoke full of mortal dread. Talons that tear you limb from limb until you're only a shadow of what you once had been.

  I know darkness, and darkness knows me. I'd stared into its eyes and breathed its noxious poison. I'd supped on the sensual torment of every girl who'd crossed my bed. They scream until the night is cut through by the violence in their voice, but they keep coming back, one by one, begging to do it again.

  They weren't her, though - weren't Cassandra or Eve. Sure, they begged and cried like the other two, but not for me to keep going. They wanted me to stop. Fear overtook them, the pain unsettling, but I never listened, never cared, never fell for the pathetic pleas and moans.

  They knew what they were walking into when they climbed into my bed.

  My heart was absent after the loss of Eve, but I hadn't been knocked down by her death. I was brought to life. I was charged by vengeance and the patience of biding my time.

  Because if the monster inside couldn’t be glutted by the sadism in bed - if I could no longer grow hard over the trembling bodies of the weak and desirous, the temptresses who keep me enraptured - then that vengeance I needed would be the only escape, the only balm, the last wicked act that would console me.

  It was only a matter of time…

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