Luciens Reign: A Novel (DeSai Trilogy) Spawn of Satan

by RWK Clark

  He looked around him cautiously, as though someone might be watching. As he did he dug his free hand into the hip pocket of his jeans and pulled out his penknife, the one he had for years, and he had kept it hidden from everyone. It was his prized possession.

  For the three years that Lucien had been forced to be in the presence of the nurses he had satisfied his lust for blood with house mice. He had set up traps in the privacy of his room, but the result was an abundance of mice which ended up moving in, so to speak, and once they were discovered his mother had the entire estate fumigated. This would be his first in a very, very long time, and the thought made him warm all over.

  Lucien held the bunny up by its scruff until its face was directly across from his. “Hi, furry little bunny. You look afraid. Are you afraid?” The bunny had frozen in his hand in panic. “Yes, you are afraid, and you should be.”

  With a quick upward thrust he buried the knife in the bunny’s belly. It let out a squeal, and he twisted the knife and buried it deeper. The rabbit’s blood was dripping out of its body and running down his hand onto the sleeve of his plaid flannel shirt. Some drops landed on his jeans, but the warm feel of the blood had Lucien in such ecstasy that he didn’t even notice, much less care.

  When he was sure the bunny was dead he laid it down on the ground before him. He had already determined what he would do: he wanted to see its insides, and he wanted to keep its skin for himself. It was so soft.

  First he cut the rabbit from under its chin down the entire length of its belly. It was difficult to keep ahold of, as the blood had soaked its fur. He put his knife down and ripped its flesh open to get a good look inside. With his fingers he poked at its organs. He knew what each was. He had no interest in learning here, this was strictly for self-satisfaction.

  After about fifteen minutes of reveling in the death of the animal before him he busied himself with skinning it, then he threw its bald carcass as far into the woods as he could. Wow, this was the best day ever! Not only was he free, he had been able to play the way he wanted without any trouble at all.

  He wrapped the bloody hide in the cloth napkin and stuffed it down his pants. It was time to get back to the house.

  He would have to clean up before Isabella and her parents came. He would take the service entrance; no one would be using it because it was the weekend, and that way Mother wouldn’t see him. Before she knew it he would be spotlessly clean.

  He marched toward the house with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  Chapter 8

  “Happy birthday, Lucien!” Patrick, Rose, Isabella, and Mother were gathered around Lucien at the head of the long dining room table, a cake lit with ten bright candles before him. They had sung to him with gusto, and he knew that much of their happiness was based on the adult’s belief that the boy had ‘changed’.

  When he returned from the courtyard he had hidden his bloody clothes and showered, then made sure to don his very best outfit for Mother: black trousers, a crisp white button-down shirt, a black leather belt, and shiny leather dress shoes. When she saw him her whole face lit up; she had been very pleased. She was easier for Lucien to manipulate now than ever before. Perhaps the suffering he had endured for the last three years had been just what was needed to gain control over the situation with his mother.

  His guests were all looking at him and smiling happily, all except for his mother Rasia, that is. Lucien had noticed while they were singing that she wasn’t participating. She had a fake smile on her face, and she seemed to be… sniffing at him while she stood next to him. When the song was over and he went to blow out the candles she had moved away from him, sitting about four seats down.

  It was this particular behavior from Rasia that Lucien found most distasteful. She had done it more and more as he got older, and whether or not she thought he was aware of it was irrelevant; he was. He hated her, and he constantly felt unsafe around her, though he did not understand it.

  There was a massive load of presents just waiting for him to tear them open, and he did so eagerly. Nothing impressed him, though. He was above childish toys, but he put on a smile and acted as enthusiastically as necessary to appease the grown-ups. The best gift he received was a card, hand-made by Isabella, with a mushy poem written inside in her own pen. That he would keep forever. The other things he would eventually tear to bits for fun.

  By the time the group was done with the cake and ice cream Lucien was losing his patience with the entire affair. He had been a prisoner in his own home for the last three years. He wanted to go hang out with his friend, maybe play some video games. Didn’t they get that? But rather than complain he continued his front until the two kids were given the okay to go about their own interests.

  Lucien and Isabella took to the family room and shut the door firmly behind them. While she untangled the cords to the video game controllers Lucien watched her. He wanted to tell her about the rabbit. She would understand.

  “Guess what I did today, Isabella,” Lucien began.

  Without looking up she answered him. “What? It could be just about anything. I would have gone nuts if I was finally free.”

  He remembered the warmth of the bunny’s blood, then continued. “I visited my old spot in the woods, the one at the end of the courtyard.”

  Isabella looked up, her brow a bit creased. “What did you do there?” she asked with a light tone.

  “Well, I cleared the leaves and crap from the ground, then I found my old box trap,” he said.

  She put the controllers down on the carpet and sat down next to him, leaning her back against the sofa. “So tell me.”

  Lucien began to fiddle with a button on his shirt nervously, but he was far from nervous. He was recalling the wonderful experience in his mind so he could give his good friend all the details. He had to let it out to someone.

  “I snuck a bite of my breakfast out with me, some French toast,” he began. “When I found the box I cleaned it up a little. It was tough and rusty, but I got it to set right.”

  “Did you catch anything, or do you not know yet?” Isabella asked softly.

  He nodded. “I caught something almost right away. A bunny rabbit.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then he continued. “I took my knife with me when I went out too.”

  He looked up from his buttons then. Her face was calm, but her eyes appeared a bit anxious, and Lucien wasn’t sure why. He proceeded to fill her in on all the graphic details, and he told her how he had the rabbit’s hide upstairs in his room. As he told the story Isabella’s breathing became more and more rapid, and then Lucien figured it out: she was enjoying this.

  When he was finished Isabella let out a long sigh. She closed her eyes and lay her head against the sofa. “I wish I had been there with you.”

  “Isabella, have you ever done them? You know, the things I like to do,” he asked her.

  She got a thoughtful look on her face for a moment, then said, “No, but I want to. I want to be with you next time.”

  “Why would you want to be with me?” Lucien asked.

  Isabella simply shrugged. “Because it’s a part of you, and you are a part of me.”

  Lucien reached over and took Isabella by the hand, and they sat quietly like that for some time. Yes, he thought to himself. This is the girl I will marry someday.

  Chapter 9

  The house was dead silent.

  Rasia was resting on a bed in the spare room that she had made up for her own lustful purposes. As Lucien’s tenth birthday had approached she had decided that it would be best to have a room far away from his own in which to carry out her bloody escapades once the nurses were all gone. She had minor construction done and soundproofing added, and what appeared to be a stylish, comfortable bedroom was now a chamber for sex and murder.

  It was the only way she could satisfy her appetites, and they seemed to only be going stronger with each passing day.

  In the last six months alone she had killed a total of tw
o-hundred and forty men. Because each and every one of them had attempted to spill their disgusting seed inside of her, and she would have no part of it. The thought alone made her feel like she was covered in dirt and filth. No one would ever do that to her again, not after Cyril.

  As she lay on the bed waiting for Martin Lamb to bring her next victim she let her mind wander to Cyril and the all-too-brief love they had experienced together. Yes, she had indeed taken his life, but the emotion she had begun to feel for him had grown substantially. As she pondered his death she often wondered what motivated her to do such an act to the ruler of the world and her first lover. She had no idea, but she suspected that the joining of their bodies and the bite which he gave her which she had so longed for had turned her into something no one suspected: a monster.

  Now she missed him with a passion that burned and kept her awake at night, and not only for selfish reasons. She imagined that Lucien would be so very different had he the guidance of his father, not to mention she would not be raising him alone, blind to the facts of his nature. She often thought about drinking the boy’s blood until his body was completely drained and he went limp in her arms, but she feared the Powers far too much to ever cross that line.

  But she could smell his blood all the time, and it smelled more wonderful than a gourmet meal! She kept away from him as often as possible. She knew he likely wondered why she had erected a wall, but she didn’t think he had figured it out. She knew that Lucien simply thought she hated him, and that was a price she was willing to pay to save her own wretched life.

  She heard the light rapping of Martin at her door. She no longer bid him to enter, as he could not hear her anyway. Now he would simply knock, wait a moment, and then lead whatever random man into the room that he had chosen for her.

  She was less than impressed with his latest choice. The man who came in had mousy brown hair and a substandard body, not to mention the fact that he dressed like a hobo. It would be easy to take his life, and she would revel in slurping down his already-infected blood.

  Oh, how she missed the days when full-blooded humans roamed the Earth, but alas, they were all gone now. Oh, well, she thought, at least I have the stragglers of the Family to feed off of. The weaklings.

  Martin left them, locking the door to the room behind him as he left, and Rasia sat up, naked, on the very edge of the bed. She looked the man over, then said to him, “What are you waiting for? You don’t need clothing for what we are about to do.”

  Quickly he removed the rags he wore and made his way to her. She stopped him in his tracks.

  “On your knees before me! I am your Queen!” Her voice was filled with anger at his lack of respect.

  The man dropped to his knees in front of her on the bed, and she took his head by its hair roughly, burying his face between her legs. As he went to work on her, licking and sucking her violently, she thought, they are all only really good for one thing.

  She lay back on the bed and spread her legs wide to give him better access, and he plunged his fingers deep inside of her. She bucked against him over and over, but would not even let him up for air. Finally she was ready to feel him inside of her. She pulled him on the bed, and that was when she saw that his penis was limp. She looked at the carpet; he had came on the floor while he serviced her.

  This infuriated Rasia. “How dare you! You are here for my good pleasure, not your own! You mangled piece of crap!” She grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back hard. Then she grabbed his neck with her free hand and violently ripped his throat out, then buried her face in the ragged, gaping wound.

  Rasia remained like that until he was drained, then she licked the blood from his neck and face. It was not the best tasting she ever had, and he left her still feeling… hungry.

  Disgusted, she rose and went into the bathroom, where she showered and dressed. She then left the room to go to her own bed, making sure to lock the door behind her. Martin knew what to do; the room would look like brand new in the morning. She made a mental note to let Martin know how extremely displeased she was with his latest provision.

  As she approached her bedroom door she looked through the darkness to Lucien’s room at the end of the hall. The boy stood in his door, which was open about eight inches. He was looking straight at her, smiling a toothy grin.

  She did not smile back, she simply looked at him. He continued to smile as he gently shut his door. Rasia quickly locked herself in her room and leaned her back against the door for good measure. He knew, perhaps not specifically, but he knew.

  Soon enough her boy would figure out the truth about the world and who he really was, and Rasia dreaded the day.

  ∞

  “Mom, I want to start spending more time with Lucien during the day.” Isabella was seated at the island in the kitchen of the family home, her feet high off the ground and swinging playfully. She had been looking for the perfect opportunity to broach the subject, and that would be now, when she was alone with her mother.

  Rose turned to her daughter and studied her. “You know we are all cautious of Lucien, Isabella.”

  The girl grumbled a bit under her breath. “Lucien would never, ever hurt me, mother. You know that.”

  “What makes you think he wouldn’t?”

  Isabella shrugged. “Because we will marry one day, and he knows it. He is my friend and he loves me.”

  Rose crossed her arms over her chest and continued to look at her beautiful daughter. Yes, she knew a marriage between the two children was inevitable, but the thought brought her great anxiety. Lucien was off, and the entire world that knew him was also aware of the fact, including his own mother.

  “What do you have in mind?” Rose finally asked.

  “Well,” Isabella began, “Neither of us study anywhere but at home, and we are both done for the day by after lunch. Why can I not have two or three days a week to go play?”

  Rose turned back to her sink full of dishes. “I think that is a bit much to start, child.”

  “Okay, mom, how about one day a week. Then if you and dad relax a bit maybe more later on.”

  Rose smiled while her back was turned. Oh, the girl was smart! Bargaining, at such a young age, and the fact of the matter was that both her request and argument were reasonable and intelligent.

  She turned back to Isabella, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll tell you what. I will talk to your father tonight and see what he says. If he is okay with trying it out, and if Rasia agrees, we will allow it. Fair?”

  “Yes! Thank you, mommy!” Isabella ran to her and gave her a fierce hug, then she looked up into her mother’s face. “You’ll see. It will be okay.”

  Rose watched as her daughter ran off in excitement, and then the smile faded quickly from her face. Rasia had kept nothing from her and Patrick regarding Lucien. Probably she just needed moral support and advice, but also because she did not want to see Isabella hurt. Rasia preferred the girl to Lucien, and that was obvious.

  But Rose knew all that the boy was capable of. She had no idea that Isabella was fully aware of all of Lucien’s violent escapades and tastes. She thought her daughter to be fully innocent of the details, and as far as she was concerned, it should stay that way. What if he poisoned her mind and her thinking? What if he smelled the human in her and tried to have her blood for himself?

  The thought scared Rose Gilliam to death.

  But she had promised, and so tonight she would approach Patrick with their daughter’s request. Deep inside she knew he would oblige, for he too believed the children to be betrothed to each other by the Powers themselves, or whoever it was that really ran the show down her on Earth. Rose hoped he would not allow it, but she knew he would.

  She drew a ragged breath and turned back to her dishes, praying to the gods under her breath for guidance and mercy.

  ∞

  “Lucien, my mother is going to talk to my father tonight about me visiting alone more often,” Isabella said into the telephone receive
r. “I asked her, and it may only be one day a week at first, but I know they are going to let me!”

  Lucien was silent at first on the other end. “Really?” he finally said. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure!” Isabella had been so excited when she left the kitchen she had made a beeline for the phone. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

  Lucien said, “Well, then it is more important now than ever that we both mind our behavior and manners.” He stopped to think. “I can’t wait. I have wanted to share some of my most private secrets with you for so long!”

  Isabella heard footsteps. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” She hung the phone up gently, then turned and sat properly on the end of the loveseat. Her mother walked into the room.

  “You should get yourself ready for your bath, Isabella. You will need to be turning in for the night soon enough.” Rose took her daughter by the hand and, laughing, lifted the girl right up into the air effortlessly.

  Isabella broke into hysterical laughter, then yawned. “I love you, Mommy.”

  “I love you too, Isabella,” Rose replied. “I think you should wait to tell Lucien until I talk to Daddy. That way he doesn’t get his hopes up, okay?”

  Isabella nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

  It didn’t matter to her that she had already disobeyed and then lied about it. It was meant to be. Soon enough she would become a part of Lucien’s personal world fully and completely.

  Isabella Gilliam could hardly wait.

  ∞

  Lucien hung up the telephone and stared into space. When Isabella first visits, what should we do? He wanted to impress her beyond her imagination, so second best simply would not do.

  First he thought about setting his box trap and seeing what he could catch. No, he concluded. Too basic. If Isabella really wanted to get to know him her first time would have to involve something far better than a rabbit or a squirrel.