The Devil's Pact Pt. 35

I felt bad for them. They didn't ask for this. They were Brandon's slaves.

"Just surrender, Brandon!" I shouted, hoping to spare any innocent lives I could. "You're trapped!"

"Fuck you cunt!" he screamed back, voice shrill with hysteria. "I am a God! I will not be defeated so easily! Not by a fucking woman!"

I put all my contempt into my laugh. "Brandon, you were outclassed from the beginning."

"Open the gate!" he bellowed. I heard a metallic ring, like someone just kicked the security gate. "I command you to open the goddamn fucking gate!"

There was no more fire coming from Brandon's soldiers, so I stepped out around the corner. Guilt filled my soul as I saw the soldiers lying dead and dying before Brandon. I shoved the guilt down. This was all Brandon's fault. The blood was on his hands, not mine.

I advanced on Brandon as he pounded on the security gate, begging for it to open. He turned back and saw the three ghosts and me walking determinedly down the hallway. "Please!" he begged, sliding down the security gate. "Please, don't hurt me!"

I backhanded him, hard. So hard my hand hurt. It was satisfying to see the blood flow from his broken nose. "Restrain him," I coldly ordered. "And pull down his pants."

Karen grasped his legs and 63 grabbed his arms. He struggled, but the ghosts had preternatural strength and easily held the blubbering man down. Tears and snot ran down his face as he struggled in their deathly grips.

"I just wanted the power," he sobbed. "Mercy, please!"

"You are pathetic," I snarled, my guilt turning into righteous anger. "You attacked us with soldiers, hunted down my husband, and beat him for three days straight! You wanted to give me to that monstrous demon you summoned! And you want mercy? Are you fucking kidding me, Brandon!" I kicked him in the side.

He grunted. The fucker deserved far more pain and suffering. I wanted to beat him bloody, to let Brandon experience the same pain he had inflicted on my husband for three days. I wanted him dead, but I couldn't kill him. Every Thrall under his control was bound to him. If he died, they died.

"You're only alive because I do not want to be responsible for the tens of thousands of deaths. Get him hard, 51."

"Yes, Ma'am," 51 answered, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. Her ebony hand stroked it a few times, then she bent down and sucked it into her mouth.

"Let me know when he's about to cum," I ordered.

* * *

Mark Glassner

With my newfound energy, I rushed at Molech. He whirled about, his sword swinging in a wide arc that unsummoned two more bodyguards as it passed through their ghostly bodies. I parried the stroke, barely, and Chasity slid under his blade and swung at his knee. He pulled his leg back, but her blade managed to bite deep into his thigh.

Molech roared in fury, weeping molten blood. "Buzzing maggots. I will roast you! I will claim your soul and you shall burn in my forest for eternity!"

"Try," I growled and swung.

His injured leg slowed him as the ghosts and I pressed our attack. His great, flaming sword was a red blur as he whipped it around in deadly arcs as he staggered. Like Azrael taught me, footing was vital in a fight. His leg wound weakened and hampered him. Ghostly blades and my golden sword slashed at the demon. More molten blood gleamed as it flew through the air from a dozen shallow cuts, sizzling and smoking on the concrete.

But Molech always managed to move his bulk to avoid the worst of the blows.

"I am Molech, God of the Ammonites, Lord of Brimstone!" the demon roared. "I am the Fiery Furnace who consumes the Prideful! Who are you, mortal, to think you can contend with a God?"

"I am Mark Glassner!" I roared back. "And you are a god no longer. All those who worshiped you are dead. Who the fuck has even heard of the Ammonites? Or Molech?"

Molech erupted wordlessly in anger. Two of the ghosts leaped at the demon's back. He whirled, cleaving through them and leaving his back exposed to me. Seeing my opening, I rushed forward, my sword raised high. Just three steps, a swing, and then my blade would part the demon's head from his body.

The first step--Molech began to turn, somehow sensing the attack, but he was slowed by all his wounds. He couldn't stop me. Triumph surged through me. I would take his head. I would triumph.

The second step--out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white figure materialize. Cursing, I threw myself to the side to avoid the shadowed hand of the last Dimme. I hit the ground hard, my knee exploding in pain as I slammed it against a metal stool bolted into the concrete.

I looked around for the monster, but she had vanished again.

Molech had recovered, no longer vulnerable to my attack.

"Dammit!" I snarled. I was so close.

I grabbed the stool, struggling to stand. My knee throbbed, my leg twisted. I groaned, rising and put weight on my leg. Pain flared up my thigh. My leg wobbled and collapsed. I fell backward, landing on my back,

"I think you are an insect," Molech growled as he marched towards me, triumph burning in his burning eyes.

01 and 78 jumped in front of the demon, trying to stop his advance, but he cut them down, the ghosts vanishing back into mist as they returned to the afterlife. Contempt burned across his molten face.

"I shall crush you beneath my foot. And then I will find your woman, and she shall know the agony of my embrace."

Molech stood over me, reeking of sulfur. The air wavered about him, rippling from the heat of his body. Between his legs was a fat, black cock, hardening with lust. Fear pounded through me. I couldn't let this monster anywhere near my Mary. His foot raised up. Chasity and the four remaining ghosts threw themselves at him. Chasity slammed into his raised leg, throwing off Molech's aim and his foot slammed down inches from my face.

Molech's hand grasped Chasity's throat. She somehow managed to spit in his face, the ghostly liquid sizzling.

His fiery eyes bulged in rage. "I will find you, spirit." he growled. "When you return to the Abyss, I shall track you down. Your suffering will be an eternity of torment for your meddling!"

His fist squeezed and crushed her throat, and Chasity's form melted into white vapor.

I screamed in rage and swung my sword at Molech's leg, the gold blade flashing as it sliced through the air. It struck the demon's right leg just above the knee. There was almost no resistance as I hit his molten flesh, cutting through the thick leg as easily as cutting a piece of tender steak.

Molech's roar of pain was satisfying as the figure stumbled. Only he had no right foot to step upon. I rolled out of the way as the demon crashed forward onto his hands and remaining knee. A pool of molten fire issued from his stump, melting the base of the metal stool. With a groan, the stool collapsed. 30 stood over me, a smile on her ghostly, Asian face as she hauled me to my feet. Molech struggled to rise, trying to use his stump for leverage, but he slipped, collapsing back onto his hands and knee as I stood over him, raising my sword.

"Mercy," he suddenly begged, staring at my blade. "I will be your most loyal servant. I can give you anything you want!"

"Is the great Molech scared?" I taunted. "Who would have thought that the Lord of Brimstone was such a coward."

A sneer appeared on Molech's features. "Lucifer will rise free of the Abyss, and you will burn in his radiance, Mortal!"

I raised my sword.

"No, wait!" His coal eyes burned yellow with fear. "You will need me to contend with Lucifer. He will destroy you without my help."

"Then you shouldn't have threatened my wife, Molech!"

I swung my sword.

Molech's protest was cut short as my blade parted his head from his body. It bounced once and rolled against a metal table, then his head and body fell apart into cooling coals. For a moment, there was nothing. And then power rushed into me.

I staggered backward as a roaring fire burned into my soul. The energy filled me. It burned through every nook and cranny of my body and then into my soul. I groaned as it filled me, my soul expanding. The energy found a path out of me. It surged towards Mary. Our souls were so connected, bound so tightly together that Molech's power spilled from me to her. Fire erupted on my sword, red flames dancing along the gold blade.

I blinked, shaking my head, struggling to understand what I had done. I had... absorbed Molech's power. Was that what he feared? I had stolen everything he had, all the strength he had accumulated through the eons.

"Fuck," I muttered.

"You did it, Master," Desiree breathed. My Latina slut rushed to me, her face bloody and bruised from Brandon's kicks, and slipped her arms about me. I leaned on her, taking the weight off my injured knee. There were tears in her eyes. "I-I submitted to him," she cried. "I betrayed you, Master."

I stroked her bruised face. "You did what you had to, Desiree. When it counted, you protected Mary."

Supported by Desiree, I limped off to find my wife.

* * *

Mary Glassner

"I won't cum!" Brandon roared as 51's ebony hand pumped on his cock. Defiance twisted his face. But I could see the fear.

I laughed, "Your cock is so hard. You wished for sexual stamina, right?"

He flushed.

"Well, it will only be a matter of..." I gasped, my eyes widening. Fiery energy rushed into me from Mark, filling my soul. I fell backward as the power overwhelmed me.

"Mistress!" Karen cried out, kneeling next to me. Her ghostly hands were cold as she grasped me.

"I'm fine," I told her, panting. What was that energy that just flowed into me?

"Fire danced around you, Mistress," Karen said in awe. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I answered then thought to Mark, What was that energy?

Molech's dead, Mark sent back. He felt exhausted.

We have Brandon. Just follow the open security doors.

You saved us, Mare! Pride filled his thoughts.

I flushed. No I didn't. My plan failed, Mark.

You stalled long enough for me to heal. You were amazing!

I flushed even more.

A minute later, Mark came limping around the corner, supported by Desiree and flanked by four ghosts. Behind Mark walked Leah and 27. Our chauffeur looked even worse than 51. I could only imagine the horrors they had witnessed. I craned my head, trying to peer past everyone, hoping to see Violet. Where was she? Was our cute, barely legal slut dead? Or did she escape? As I strained to spot Violet, a pale form appeared behind my husband.

"Mark!" I screamed in warning.

"For Di!" the colorless Dimme screamed, her hand flashing with shadows.

Mark started to turn, swinging his flaming sword. Shadow and sword flashed. Mark reeled back, slipping out of Desiree's grip and crashing hard to the ground. The Dimme toppled backward in a spray of pink blood, her throat slashed open from Mark's cut.

Karen and the other ghosts melted into mist. Mark's armor and sword disintegrated into golden motes.

"No!" I shouted, racing to Mark.

"Shit!" 51 gasped behind me. There was a meaty sound and a wet thud.

I reached Mark, kneeling next to him. There was a blackened wound on his chest. His armor had stopped the worst of the Dimme's attack, but that wound was growing, shadowy tendrils inching across his body. I had to heal him, fast. "Tsa--"

A crushing hand about my throat choked off my healing spell. I was slammed onto my back, pinned by Brandon as he straddled my stomach, a mad look in his eyes. I couldn't breathe. My lungs burned. I clawed at his face, leaving red scratches. His grip tightened, iron crushing the life out of me.

No, I couldn't die. Not when we came so close to defeating him. Not when I was pregnant. I had to fight for my unborn child.

I grasped at the fingers squeezing my throat, trying to pry them off. Other women were leaping on Brandon, trying to force him off me. 27 was thrown back, her head slamming into the concrete wall. She slumped heavily to the floor. The world grew black at the edges of my vision. It became harder and harder to think, to fight. I wanted to give up, to relax, to let that blissful darkness take me away from all of this pain.

My hand went limp.

No. I had to keep fighting. Our child would be named Chasity if it was a girl or Albert if it was a boy. I had to keep fighting for our child. I wanted to see him or her be born. To hold our child in my arms. I would not give up. I reached inside me, trying to find the strength to keep the darkness at bay.

I found something, glowing in my soul. The power that flowed into me from Mark.

The fire of Molech.

Brandon screamed. His hand released my throat as he stumbled back, trailing greasy smoke. I coughed, gasping lungfuls of the sweetest air I had ever tasted. Fire roared about my body, dancing harmlessly on my skin. Desiree and 51 wrestled the screaming Brandon to the ground, his right hand blackened ruins. I coughed and turned to Mark. The black wound was growing, the shadows spreading, reaching for his heart.

"Tsariy!" I screamed hoarsely as I touched him, picturing him whole, hale, the shadows gone.

Red light engulfed my husband, his body convulsing beneath my hand. When it passed, his blue eyes were shining up at me. His hand reached out and caressed my face. I winced. My nose was broken and my face swollen from Brandon's blow. Mark whispered and my world turned scarlet. I could feel my nose straitening out, the swelling in my face vanishing. The pain in my throat and the bruises and scrapes on my side all melted away.

"My filly!" Mark cried out, crushing me to him.

I hugged him just as fiercely, tears rolling down my cheeks. "My stallion!"

Mark kissed me and everything seemed to stop. My husband was safe, and we were together again. I savored his muscular chest pressed against me, his hands roaming my back, and I touched him everywhere, feeling his strong muscles. My heart sang for joy. I broke the kiss, stared into his deep blue eyes, and stroked his cheek.

Then I bent over and whispered into his ear, "We've started something terrible. A darkness approaches. We have to take responsibility and fight back, Mark."

I couldn't say any more. Lucifer could be watching us right now. Only in a Matmown would it be safe to talk. I pressed my finger to his lips when he started to speak, shaking my head ever so slightly. There was confusion in his eyes, but also trust.

Then I rose. I had to deal with Brandon.

Chapter Seven

And the World rejoiced as the False God was laid low by our Living Gods' prowess.

--The Second Book of Vivian 2:56

Debra Horne-Dannell

"Something has happened, Forrest," I reported into my microphone, speaking with Forrest Murphy back in the Q13 Fox studios while I stared into the camera manned by Jarret. The world had changed a moment ago. I felt like I had returned to myself. "Everything is different. It's like I'm waking up from a dream."

Around me in the square before the Tacoma Courthouse were US soldiers who served the God Brandon Fitzsimmons. No, that couldn't be right? He could not be a God. Everywhere I looked, soldiers were shaking their heads, looking confused. A young soldier, no more than twenty, sat down and started sobbing into his hands.

"We felt it, too, Debra," Forrest replied through my earpiece. He was anchoring the news desk back at the Q13 Fox studio in Seattle. "Why did we ever believe Brandon was a God?"

"He cast a spell," I realized. "Led us astray from our true Gods."

It was all coming back to me. My worship and love for Mark and Mary Glassner had been suppressed by the false God's enchantment. I was free. It felt wonderful. "Our real Gods, Mark and Mary Glassner, are responsible," I continued reporting. A smile grew on my face. It was unprofessional, but I could not contain the joy I felt at being free. "I just know it! The Living Gods have triumphed. Around me, the soldiers under Brandon's control appear to have been freed as well. Many look dazed, sick even. Disgusted at what Brandon forced them to do. We have all heard the reports of the atrocities committed the last few days in Tacoma."

"I just shot that man," sobbed the young soldier, staring at his hands. "Oh, God, why did I do that?"

The doors to the jail suddenly opened and two naked women, one Black and one Hispanic, walked out carrying M16s. I recognized the Black woman as 51, the chief bodyguard of my Gods. Then Desiree and a brunette walked out, dragging a manacled man.

Brandon Fitzsimmons.

And the last to walk out were my Gods. They were naked, their arms entwined. An aura of fire danced about the pair. My breath caught in my throat. Even naked, they were magnificent. His chiseled body, as perfect a male specimen as you would find on any Greek statue, and Her womanly figure, as beautiful as any pin-up model. Power and majesty radiated out from the pair.

"I present the false god, Brandon Fitzsimmons!" my God roared.

Desiree kicked the back of Brandon's leg, and the fat, balding man fell to his knees. Whatever illusion Brandon had used to make himself look young and fit had been broken. He stared blankly at the ground, utterly defeated.

"He enslaved you with his dark magic!" my Goddess proclaimed, Her voice ringing, stirring my soul. "But we have freed you! Do not feel guilty for what you did under his control. Only Brandon bears responsibility for the murders and the rapes. Only Brandon!"

The soldiers around me looked up at the Living Gods with hope and relief. The young man who had been sobbing near me gazed at Them with such a worshipful expression. "It wasn't me," he whispered. "It wasn't me!"

"Brandon Fitzsimmons is guilty of mass murder and rape!" my Goddess proclaimed. "He sacrificed over fifty women to the demon Molech!"

My God looked down at the defeated man. "For his crimes, I condemn him to death!"

With my God's sentence, 51 aimed her M16. I felt a vicious surge of triumph in my heart as the M16 barked. Brandon fell lifeless to the ground.

"A darkness approaches!" declared my God. "Brandon was merely the first. Only Mary and I can protect you! Serve us, worship us, and we shall fight for you! Protect you! We are the only hope for the world! We are your Gods, and we love you all!"

The soldiers fell to their knees in worship. It took me a moment to realize that I knelt with them.

* * *

Brandon Fitzsimmons - The Abyss

The gun barked.

Then I was falling, falling, falling into darkness.

Then the darkness gave way to fire, to pain. To agony beyond anything I had ever felt alive. I screamed and screamed as the flames danced on my skin, igniting every nerve. Around me, thousands screamed, millions. I burned upon hot bronze, my flesh sizzling, but I would not die, and the pain would not end. My flesh was never consumed. My torment would be unceasing.

"Welcome, Brandon," Lucifer taunted. A collar of molten-red metal encircled my neck, a chain leading off to the radiant figure floating before the thousands of tormented souls bound to him in the oven. "Did you enjoy your wishes?" He savored my torment, delighted in it, drank in my agony. Malice and sadism dripped from every word he uttered. "I hope they were worth the price."

To be continued...