The Devil's Pact Pt. 35

"Chereb," I whispered and jumped in surprise, dropping the gold blade that had appeared in my hand. The moment I released it, the blade vanished into a thousand tiny, golden motes.

"Chereb, as you have noticed, conjures a blade of Celestial Gold, the weapon of an angel. Sharp as a razor, but only capable of harming spiritual bodies," Azrael explained. "Angels, demons, spirits, monsters, and homunculi cannot withstand this blade."

"And how will that help free me?" I demanded angrily. "Hell, the son of a bitch ripped my tongue out. I can't even summon the sword if I wanted to."

"It won't," Azrael answered, a hint of steel chiming in her voice. "But, once you are free, you may need this. The second basic prayer is Choshen. This will gird you in Angelic Armor, which is proof against most spiritual attacks. But it is not invulnerable. It also serves well against mundane attacks."

I was growing more and more impatient. "Teach me something useful, dammit!"

Her scarlet eyes narrowed in annoyance. "The third basic prayer is all internal. Just imagine your body as healthy and whole as it should be, and you shall be healed. No words need to be spoken. But it takes time, a few minutes, and it will leave you vulnerable."

"And restrained," I muttered.

"So bide your time, wait for the opportunity, and seize it," Azrael hissed, the compassion vanishing in a thunderstorm of fury bursting across her face. "I give you the tools, but you still have to use them. So stop being a petulant child. You cannot afford to be one any longer."

I flinched, taking a step back. "Sorry."

"I understand your circumstances are difficult, but remember to be civil. I am your ally, Mark. Even you can be an instrument of the Creator."

I took a deep breath. I needed to be calm. I needed her help. "How can I create that opportunity?"

"There is one prayer, gifted only to Shamans," Azrael answered, calming down. "Because I am the Angel of Death, you may pull back the veil and summon help. It is very dangerous; the dead will draw on your life force. I do not know how long you could maintain the summons. A few minutes, a few seconds, but it may give you the opportunity."

"How?" I asked, frowning. Summoning the dead?

"Tsalmaveth."

Chapter Two

Fitzsimmons's lusts and cruelty gripped Tacoma. To feed his pact with the foul demon Molech, the soldiers under his domination fanned through the city, searching house-by-house for sacrifices.

--excerpt from The History of the Tyrants' Theocracy, by Tina Allard

Sunday, September 29th, 2013 - Violet Matheson - Tacoma, WA

"Violet," Loreena said, shaking me awake. "Something is happening." She spoke with a slurred, stiff accent.

I blinked bleary eyes, staring up at the deaf woman, her face fearful, her eyes wide. Yesterday, Loreena saved me. When Master had ordered us to run, and Desiree had sacrificed herself to let me escape the soldiers, I thought I was in so much trouble. So I hid behind a trash can, huddling in fear, waiting for the soldiers to find me.

Instead, Loreena had.

The woman was a saint. She took me into her house, giving me shelter, and we spent the night huddled on her bed watching TV. It was so sick watching Brandon Fitzsimmons declare himself God. I cried as I watched Master being beaten so viciously. Such guilt filled me. I was safe and sound while he suffered.

But what could I do?

And then, the President of the United States himself arrived at the courthouse. He had mounted the steps, joining Brandon, and then bowed to him. He had surrendered the country to that horrible monster. I knew all about Brandon. He did despicable things all summer, stealing women, killing their families if they objected. He was cruel.

He even murdered his own brother.

"This can't be happening," Loreena had said as she read the subtitles, watching the President surrender the United States without a fight. She was deaf, and Brandon's powers could not affect her. A person had to hear him speak, understand his words, to be controlled. "How can the President just surrender?"

"Brandon's evil," I answered, facing her so she could read my lips. "He sold his soul for dark powers."

We fell asleep on her bed--her bedroom TV muted--drawing comfort from each other as the world descended into madness. The night was full of unnatural sounds. Helicopters were constantly flying overhead, and gunshots rang out through the night, violence shattering tranquility. Every time I woke up, I would clutch Loreena, and she would hug me just as tight.

It was morning now. The rising sun filled her bedroom with soft light. She motioned me to the window as she headed back to it. I swallowed, rolling out of bed and heading to join her. What would be happening now?

What terrible thing would Brandon have done?

I glanced outside and saw soldiers up the street marching a woman, naked, to one of those armored tanks, the back open. They shoved her inside, joining other naked women in the back of the vehicle. At the next house, soldiers were kicking in the front door. I could hear faint shouts.

"What are they doing?" Loreena asked.

I jumped and shrieked at the loud cracks of gunshots. Loreena looked at me. "Gunfire. They just killed someone."

"At the Dawsons'?" Loreena said, her eyes growing wide.

A minute later, the soldiers dragged out a sobbing girl of eighteen or so. They ripped her clothes off. God, it looked like they were laughing at the poor girl, even groping her. They must have killed her father or boyfriend or something. Then they pushed the poor girl into the vehicle and headed for the next house on the street.

My heart froze in terror.

They were searching house to house, dragging out the women they found. And they were working their way to this house. My stomach clenched in pure fear.

"We have to hide!" I shouted.

Loreena ignored me as she stared out of the window. I blinked in shock, wondering why she didn't react... I flushed, forgetting she was deaf, as the fear spiked through me. I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face me. "We need a place to hide."

She gaped at me, her eyes full of disbelieving horror. Yesterday, US Soldiers didn't break down your door and drag you off. But that was before the world changed. She glanced out the window, then took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed my hand and led me out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

My heart thudded in terror. The shouts outside were louder. A door splintered. How much longer until they reached this house?

We reached her first floor, and she rounded her staircase. She fell to her knees and pushed on the wood paneling that ran along the side of the stairs. It opened, revealing a small cubby beneath the stairs. A place for us to hide. I nodded to her and mouthed, "This works."

We both squeezed in, crouching together, and pulled the panel closed. I shivered, wrinkling my nose. It smelled musty, but I was too scared to care about that. We sat down and leaned against the inside of the wall, a stud pressed against my shoulder.

And waited.

My heart thundered in my chest as I strained to hear what was going on outside. I wished I had a watch or something to tell how long we had been in here. It felt like an eternity as we waited in the dark, straining to hear anything.

What was taking the soldiers so long?

My stomach writhed with nauseated fear as I waited. Every beat of my heart ratcheted up the stress. It built to levels that were too high, my skin stretched so tight, like I could rupture like an overinflated balloon. I wanted them to search the house and move on. The stress was too much. I trembled, taking deep breaths. How long had it been? I tried to count my breaths, my heartbeats, anything to try and give me an idea of how much time was passing.

Maybe the soldiers weren't coming?

How long could we wait in here? Had it been minutes or hours?

I swallowed, wondering if maybe we should slip out and check. We could be real quick--pop out, peer out the window, and pop back into our hiding spot. The soldiers would never know. It was a mad idea, but the moment it popped into my head, it gnawed at me.

I had to know what was going on outside. I would be quick. Creep out, peer in a window, and scurry back into the hiding place in case I need to. It would be fine. I was quick. The panel popped into place easily.

I reached for the panel.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I jumped in surprise. Someone had knocked hard three times on the door. The soldier hammered again, paused, then hammered a third time. "Open up!" a man shouted. "Open up in the name of your God! All citizens are required to submit to searches!" He banged again. "Last chance, then we're breaking the door down and executing whoever we find!"

I squeaked, clutching Loreena.

There was a splintering crash. The front door shattered. Booted feet pounded through the house. Dust fell down into my face as they raced upstairs, tickling at my nose. My nostrils twitched, the itch spreading up my nasal passage.

I couldn't sneeze.

I clasped my hand over my nose, pinching it, trying to ignore the growing, tickling sensation.

My heart raced. One of the soldiers searched the first floor, the other the second. More dust trickled down as he moved around upstairs. The sneeze built. I couldn't sneeze. Not now. But the sensation was growing unbearable. Any second, I would sneeze and they would find us.

Kill us.

I fought it, suppressed the ticklish urge.

Achoo!

I jumped as Loreena sneezed. Fear surged coldly through my veins. Everything became deathly quiet. Were the soldiers listening? Did they hear Loreena's sneeze? They must be straining, trying to figure out where that sneeze had come from, looking for the place where we were hiding. I squeezed Loreena tightly, felt her heart thudding in her chest.

"Clear!" one soldier yelled from upstairs.

A soft moan came from Loreena. Her entire body trembled. She was deaf. She didn't know what was happening. It was too dark in here for her to see my lips, to let me tell her to be quiet, that everything was okay. Her moan grew louder. She was going to give us away. I had to silence her.

So I kissed her.

Her lips were soft and moist. I could feel her tense in shock. She tried to pull away, but I grabbed the back of her head and gripped her tight, thrusting my tongue deep into her mouth. I felt her start to relax. Start to kiss me back.

"Clear!" the other soldier yelled back. And then the booted feet stomped down the stairs as the pair left the house.

Even though it was safe, I kept kissing Loreena, our passions growing. I didn't know why. Maybe it was the sheer exhilaration of not being found and executed that kept my lips kissing hers. We had survived. We were alive.

My heart raced. All the stress of the last twenty-four hours melted away as I kissed this beautiful, kind woman. She was so wonderful. An angel. And she deserved to be loved. And there was one way I was taught to love.

Master and Mistress would approve.

My hands found the hem of her cotton nightgown. My fingers grasped it, hiking it up her legs. She kissed me hard, not fighting, even helping. Her ass lifted up, letting me slip the nightgown up and over her hips. She moaned into the kiss, making such sweet sounds as our tongues met.

She was delicious.

My hands stroked down her naked stomach and found her panties. I caressed them. They felt plain, boring. But I didn't care. I rubbed lower, massaging between her legs. A wet heat soaked through as she shivered, kissing me harder.

Then her hands touched me, soft, delicate, exploring me. I shivered in the borrowed nightgown I wore. I helped her pull it up and over my waist, sitting my naked ass on the concrete floor. I didn't care right now.

I moaned as her fingers reached between my thighs and discovered I wore no panties.

The kiss grew hotter and hotter as her fingers caressed my bald, barely legal cunt. I moaned into her mouth, enjoying her uncertain touch as she stroked my flushed vulva. She parted my folds, exploring my silky depths.

Pleasure rippled through my body. I rubbed harder at her panties, savoring this moment. We were alive. We had survived Brandon's soldiers. They didn't capture us and take us away to suffer. We had escaped them.

My fingers hooked the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, her ass lifting to help me. She rubbed harder at my pussy, her fingers brushing my clit. I stroked her silky pussy hair and found her snatch dripping wet.

I loved her lips, both her normal ones and her pussy lips. They both were hot and wet. I caressed them with tongue and fingers. I explored her mouth and cunt while she caressed them. I groaned, my heart hammering, our bodies shifting to face each other.

I stroked her clit as I entwined my legs with hers. My pussy clenched as I scooted closer to her, savoring her fingers rubbing at my nub. We frigged each other's clits as I brought our pussies closer and closer with every shift of my body.

We pulled our hands away, and then our pussies kissed.

We moaned into our kiss, our hot pussies sliding together. I savored her furry muff tickling the lips of my pussy as we tribbed together, our legs scissoring. I humped against her, grinding my cunt into hers, the pleasure sparking and growing.

It felt so good to forget about everything that had happened and lose myself in the pleasure of this woman. This was escapism at its best. To make love. To share pleasure with another person, to remind each other of our humanity.

Her hips moved, humping me back. I broke the kiss, grinning as I leaned back on my elbows. I tribbed her for real now, grinding hard and fast on her pussy, my hips undulating as I made love to this beautiful deaf woman.

"Mmm, your cunt feels so soft on mine!" I moaned, not caring that she was deaf and couldn't hear me. I had to say what was building inside of me, my body trembling. "Fuck me! Yes, yes! I need this!"

Loreena moaned just as loud, wordlessly, pure sound untainted by language. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out her form as she writhed in pleasure. One of her hands had pushed up her nightgown and fingered her nipple.

She was so sexy. I ground on her, my clit aching and throbbing. My pussy clenched. Pleasure blossomed within me. Every time my clit rubbed against her pussy my orgasm grew and grew. It wouldn't be long before I came.

"Oh, you're so amazing, Loreena," I moaned, grinding against her hot cunt. Our eyes met in the dark, staring at each other. "Yes, yes, yes."

She only moaned, sharing out how much she loved this. Our pussies ground harder and harder together. The heat swelled inside of me. Trembles raced through my body. I leaned my head back, shuddering, my clit kissing hers.

Sparks flew at that wonderful contact. They surged through me to the depths of my core. They touched my growing orgasms. Detonated it.

I bucked hard as my pleasure flooded through me. My pussy convulsed. Juices gushed out of my cunt, splashing against her hot flesh. Her pubic hairs tickled my sensitive lips as the rapture surged through me in hot wave after hot wave.

"Yes! I'm coming!" I howled, wanting the entire world to know we had survived. We had escaped Brandon. "Oh, Loreena! Sweet Loreena, your pussy's driving me wild!"

Loreena's moans grew shrill as she trembled. And then her hot juices flooded my pussy as she joined me in rapture. I ground hard against her as the pleasure peaked in me. I groaned, holding onto my orgasm for as long as I could.

But then it retreated. I stopped pumping my hips, breathing heavily. I sat up and seized her shoulders, pulling the trembling deaf woman to me. I captured her lips with a hot kiss and hugged her tight. I wanted to hold onto this happy, satisfied feeling.

But the fear and stress bubbled back up as my pleasure faded. Master was still captured. Brandon was still God and King of the United States. But it was nice to forget for a few minutes.

Chapter Three

To save Her husband, our Living God, our Goddess did venture to France on pilgrimage. Her devotion to Her husband and the world had to be demonstrated. Only then could She harness the strength to defeat the False God and set to right the wrongs committed in his putrid name.

--The Gospel of April 37:54-55

Mark Glassner - Tacoma, WA

Sunday passed in a haze of pain.

I woke from the dream with Azrael back into the torment of my battered body. I lay in my jail cell in the Pierce County Prison adjacent to the courthouse. The mattress was hard against my back. I stared at the stainless steel sink, my shattered teeth aching, throbbing, my throat parched. My lips were chapped.

I tried to lick them. Then I winced. I only had a stump for a tongue.

I had to drink something. With a groan, I hauled myself to my feet, ignoring the protest of my battered muscles. I staggered to the sink, manacles clinking about my wrists and ankles. I bent down and greedily drank the cool water from the tap, bringing momentary relief to the stump of my tongue while the cold stabbed pain through the ruined stump of my shattered teeth.

"Uuhhhh," I cursed, the word coming out as a long vowel sound.

My stomach rumbled. My head throbbed. I hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. That felt like a lifetime ago. I sank back onto my cot, stretching out on it, every movement bringing fresh pain to my body. I closed my eyes, remembering Mary napping naked on our bed as I quietly slipped out yesterday morning. She had been hugging a pillow, her auburn hair draped about her neck and shoulders. She looked so beautiful and peaceful.

I would give anything--and I mean anything--to see my wife again.

Morning, Mary, I sent to her. We were connected telepathically now by the Siyach spell.

How are you? Mary sent back, her thoughts full of love and concern.

I've been better. I tried to keep the pain from bleeding into my sending. The angel Azrael visited me last night. She's teaching me to use my other powers.

Good. And I have a plan, Mark, she sent excitedly.

Shoot.

I'm flying to France to steal the Mother Superior's Gift with the Ganubath ritual.

I vaguely remembered that spell. Isn't she dangerous?

I have the SWAT officers guarding our bolthole and all the bodyguards with me, she answered. We can handle her. Then I'll become a Nun and exorcise Brandon.

I groaned aloud. That sounds so risky.

I know. But I'm desperate. What choice do we have, Mark? Do you want to kill him? How many thousands of people are under his power now? You said it; he binds people with the Zimmah bond just by talking to them.

Yeah, we can't kill him, I groaned. She was right. The Zimmah spell bound a person's life force to the Warlock who cast it. We used it to keep our Thralls and family members from being turned into weapons by the Nuns or our other enemies. It made it so only our mind control powers affected them. But if we died, so would everyone bound to us.

Killing Brandon might cause half of the United States to perish. Everyone who had caught one of his broadcasts live and heard his commands would perish with him.

Good luck, I told her.

It'll work, Mary repeated. He wants to fuck me. And I'll let him and exorcise him. Then it's over. He'll be powerless. Everyone will be free. Our powers will work on the soldiers, and I'll save you, Mark. So just hold on. I love you, Mark. Just one more day.

One more day, I agreed. I love you, Mare.

Her words gave me hope when the soldiers came for me maybe an hour later. My body was too sore to fight. Resigned to my fate, I let them drag me off, my manacles clinking. The rest of the day was pain. Never-ending pain. The only thing I could cling to as they beat me was my wife.