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“It might.” He rises to his feet and sets me on mine before leading the way back toward the pit.
My knees wobble and I’d like to find a soft bed to sink into. But as they say, there is no rest for the wicked.
I find my strength again half way down that long hall, my hazy mind clears slowly.
He draws me to a stop before the stairs that lead down to the lake-like pit of fire.
His gaze devours my body as he steps back from me, eyes narrowing a moment before shadows swirl around me, wrapping me like a long robe… as if the Devil cares for modesty.
Hand flicking that robe open to expose my left leg, he wraps one hand beneath my knee, drawing it up and studying the sharp pen lines.
“You wrote their names on your body…. But if you punish them, they’ll be forever etched into your flesh.”
“I can live with that.”
“Can you?” The back of his claws graze over my skin, and I shiver closer to him. “I suppose we shall see.”
He meets my eyes. “Select one of those names, little fool.”
I know which of the names I’ll choose without having to look down.
Because he said one.
Possibly only one.
I don’t speak it.
Taking his hand, I draw the rough pad of his finger along the top of my thigh and the first name written there.
The Devil drops my leg and takes two steps back as a scream breaks overhead.
The man in question appears between us, slammed to the dark stone floor as if thrown.
He sways and then staggers to his feet, flinching as his head jerks in every direction until it lands on the pit.
Then, “No.”
He shakes his head violently swinging to face the Devil.
“No, no, no, no, no! I was absolved.”
He turns sharply to me as if hoping for someone to stand for him against damnation, but as soon as his eyes lock on me, all the colour drains from his face.
The man clearly remembers me from the only warning I gave him when I marched into his campaign office earlier this year.
An amused smirk twitches on the Devil’s face and a small slice of victory flares inside me at that terror. He fears me more than he fears the Devil.
And he should.
I won’t allow him to hide behind righteousness to cause harm.
When he goes to open his mouth, it is slammed shut and his lips prick with red as invisible hands sew them shut. Black lines pulled tight, cutting into his flesh.
The Devil comes to stand behind me then, wrapping one arm around my waist and drawing me back to place the flat of a crooked blade against the top of my breasts
“You can have this sinner’s life, if you wish to take it.” His other hand finds mine, pulling it up to wrap around the leather-bound handle of the blade. “Cut out his heart and we will weigh it to see where he spends the rest of eternity.”
It’s tempting.
