The Bound Angel: Epilogue
Epilogue
Blood stains were so hard to clean.
Silas scrubbed himself under the faucet from forearms to fingertips. When he began, the warm water spilling into the sink was ruby red. Now it was a dull pink.
The corpse by his feet twitched. Silas froze. He stared at the body for a long moment, waiting for it to move again. If the ritual was spoiled somehow, he would need a way to cover it up. He tried to look casual as he glanced around the warehouse, searching for anyone paying too close attention to what he was doing. The robed figures, his apprentices and assistants, were still recovering from the ritual. Some leaned against the walls while they caught their breath. Others were bent at the waist, clutching their knees as they stared at the vomit they’d just expelled onto the floor. None were watching him.
He looked back to the corpse. The man’s eyes were glassy and unblinking. An unmistakable stench wafting from the body meant he’d soiled himself. It didn’t move again. Just mortal death throes. Silas sighed with relief as he turned his attention back to cleaning under his fingernails.
Before him, near to where he’d opened the summoning portal moments ago, another figure straightened to her full height. She was gorgeous. Long blonde hair shimmered in the light streaming through the warehouse’s broken windows. A thin silk robe failed to hide generous curves and flawless skin. Her soft, pouting lips looked like they would be perfect for more than kissing. She lifted her arms and stretched, arching her back and thrusting her impressive chest out. Then she stared down at her hands, turning them over as if she’d never seen them before. Which, in her defense, she very well may not have.
Silas didn’t know what form demons took in the Abyss. Perhaps, before he ushered her through to this side, she was merely a floating ball of conscience waiting to be plucked from the either. Or perhaps she was a crippled, revolting hag, a truer representation of her essence than the beauty that stood before him now. Or maybe he was overthinking it, and they looked exactly the same in both realms. Regardless, it always took them some time to get used to their flesh on this plane.
After wiping his hands, he asked her, “What is your name?”
The demon looked up as if she was surprised to see him. She tilted her head in confusion as her beautiful eyes bored into him. Then she said, “You may call me Naomi.”
Silas nodded. “Welcome, Naomi. I hope the crossing was not unpleasant.”
She didn’t say anymore. She simply continued staring at him.
He cleared his throat. “The Dark Lady has personally requested your presence.”
Naomi startled at the name, and Silas wondered again at what game was being played. The Dark Lady was systematically removing the demons from the city that were still loyal to Baltimore’s former demonic patron. She was replacing them with what Silas presumed were demons loyal to her and her master. He shivered at the thought of what type of being could command one such as… her.
As Silas was considering this, an invisible force slammed into him. He stumbled back, preparing a spell and reaching for his sword as a new presence blossomed in his mind. It felt like the shockwave from a distant explosion. He half expected to see a mushroom cloud through one of the broken windows and to feel the floor shaking beneath his feet. The presence was dark and terrible and powerful. And it was familiar.
He steadied himself.
So, she’d finally decided to come out of hiding and claim the city for herself. No more lurking in the shadows and playing games. Was she suddenly less fearful of the angels? There were whispers in the dark that the Host had been weakened in recent weeks, decimated by one of Hell’s champions. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots between the Dark Lady’s arrival and the fall of the angels. But if that’s what it was, why didn’t she reveal herself sooner? Maybe she was injured and simply needed time to recover. She’d avoided Silas for a time and didn’t quite seem herself when she returned. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on. The plans she’d shared with him mentioned a mortal.
Naomi looked shaken. Her voice quivered as she asked, “What does the Lady require of me?”
Silas took a steadying breath. “She will be coming here shortly. We must prepare for her arrival. Whatever it is she has in mind for you, I suggest you get yourself ready.”
The temptress’ eyes widened in surprise and fear. She breathed, “What do you suggest I do?”
Silas raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. “I imagine you can guess what she has in mind.” He dried his hands and discarded the blood stained towel. Then he stepped over the corpse to begin inspecting the chamber the Dark Lady asked him to build. They each had their directions. If the Dark Lady had revealed herself, her plans were already set in motion.
Silas would be ready.
Naomi moved to stand directly in front of him, blocking his way. The look in her eyes was suddenly… hungry. She peered up at him through long lashes. Her hands touched his chest as she looked into his eyes with devotion. Then she slowly sank to her knees, one at a time, holding his gaze as she lowered. Her hands followed her down, gliding along his chest, stomach, hips, before gently squeezing his upper thighs. Her mouth opened slightly as she licked her lips, leaving them moist and glistening and parted. But Silas’ eyes had already dropped to her chest, and the full cleavage on display within her robe.
“What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice steady. He knew just how… agreeable these temptresses could be.
“What I presume the Lady requires of me,” Naomi purred. She reached for the fabric holding her robe closed and slowly pulled it free. The front fell open. Silas stared down at a wide strip of bare flesh from throat to thigh, only briefly interrupted by a pair of tiny panties. Her breasts were still covered, barely, but the inner curve of each was begging to be set free. He was reminded of the other temptresses he’d brought through, and how eager they were to show their gratitude. Much as he wanted to take her up on her offer, this was not the time for that. He did not want to owe the Dark Lady anything.
As Naomi reached for his pants, he caught her wrists in each hand. He snarled, “You presume too much, whore.”
The demon’s face softened into a knowing smile. She glanced meaningfully at the tent in Silas’ pants, then back up to his eyes. “I won’t struggle,” she whispered. “Promise.” She licked her lips again. “Unless that’s what you want.” Naomi twisted her wrists and writhed from side to side in a pathetic attempt at fighting him off. The result was her robe drifting open even more, until it revealed soft, perky breasts.
Silas threw her hands aside and walked away. He would not be played for a fool. He’d had enough of the Dark Lady’s games. He was not some weak-willed mortal, eager to be led around by the nose. He wielded power these demons could only dream of. Without him, their incursion into this realm would have died on the vine. Servants of the Abyss prattled on and on about free will, and it was time he exercised his own. It was time he took his destiny into his own hands.
Temptresses and harlots could not hold a candle to a full-fledged succubus like the Dark Lady. For now, he would pretend to dance to her tune, but soon she would be the one on her knees in Naomi’s place. But nobody would give him anything. He would have to take it for himself.
The End
And that’s a wrap on Book 1 of Sacrilege Rising.
Huge thanks for reading to the very end. If you enjoyed the story, leave a comment and a rating. Book 2, The Demon’s Snare, will be posted here on Scribble Hub at some point. If you don’t want to wait, you can find advanced chapters and exclusive character artwork (SFW & NSFW) over on my Patreon, where we’re about to begin Book 4. www./kodijackson
-Kodi