Angel's Curse (30 page)

“Remind me to send the preacher a fruit basket,” Satan laughed, “for placing you on the path to hell.”

His breath was hot on my face and I thought for a moment he’d try to kiss me. His eyes turned fiery red and I was sure there must be a pattern to it, no matter what he said. I’d need to pay closer attention to what mood he was in when his eyes changed from brown to red.

“You could very well have ended up here anyway, if there wasn't a contract on your head,” Satan said.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, scared that perhaps he knew something that I didn't.

“Only that many of the preacher’s cast-offs end up here. Sometimes they are auctioned to the highest bidder, or are exchanged for services rendered.”

“So that’s what happened to Shae,” I said. “She was auctioned off to the vampires, or given to them as payment for some service.”

“I do not know whom this Shae person is.”

“It doesn’t matter. She was someone I knew, what seems a lifetime ago,” I replied. “I killed her.”

Satan's cheek almost brushed mine as he pulled away and strode to the closest door.

“Are you coming or not?” he said.

I shook out the tension in my body quickly.
Why am I tense?
I thought.
Anticipation? Fear? Why?

I walked to the open door and Satan laughed. “You really need to learn to lighten up, Helena.”

As he’d said, there were more chambers and cubicles than most could keep count of, including me — row upon row, kilometre after kilometre.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“It is the
heart
of the Pleasure Dome. Here we torture souls and convert believers. It’s such a rewarding pastime. Some people may consider it work, but the pleasure that can be derived from torturing a soul, physically and spiritually, is unbelievable. And converting believers,” he laughed, and thrust his hips forward, “well that’s almost orgasmic!”

It didn’t sound like a place I’d really want to hang out.

“If I agreed to your deal — my soul for your blood — is this where I’d end up?” I whispered.

“No, Helena. Your soul is far too precious to me for it to end up here, where anyone could
have
you. There are not many souls I truly claim for my own. It has been several thousand years, give or take,”
was he breathing heavier?
“since I craved a soul as I crave yours.”

“What would you do with it?” I whispered.

He folded his arms across his chest and gave me a wry smile. “That is for me to know and
you
to find out, if you dare.”

“Pass,” I said.

At least I knew I was a hot commodity. The fact that he’d keep working on me, trying to convince me to make the deal, bought me time. If I could think of another way to get Satan’s blood, and keep my soul, it would be a win-win situation, for me at least.

We walked along the corridors of the heart. Satan showed no signs of stopping to watch what was going on in any of the rooms or cubicles.

“What did you mean by
converting believers?
”

He laughed. “I
knew
that would grab your attention eventually. Come, and I’ll show you.”

We entered one of the rooms. Satan quietly closed the door behind him, putting a finger to his lips indicating we should be silent. He sat on one of six chairs placed at the back of the room, and motioned for me to sit next to him.

Tied upside down on an upturned cross —
why did it have to be a cross?
— was a priest, pastor or vicar. Not being overly religious I didn’t know which he was.

“He’s a Catholic priest,” Satan whispered. “They, and Jewish rabbis, are highly prized conversions.”

“But they’re already believers,” I whispered, “I don’t understand.”

“Here we convert them to the one true faith — Satanism. None has ever met
their
Maker and even in death they never will, but here, they
can
meet me, and they
can
believe.”

“Are you telling me that the power of conversion boils down to
seeing is believing?
”

“Watch. This one is close now.”

Satan stood up and rose half a metre into the air. He held his arms straight out on either side of him and kept his legs and feet pressed together. His body turned in the air until he was upside down — remarkably his ponytail stayed in place — and he glided through the air, his body mirroring that of the priest on the upturned cross.

The priest’s eyes widened and he muttered something in a language I didn’t understand.

I hadn’t noticed that someone else had entered the room and sat down behind me. He’d entered just as quietly as we had.

“He’s from the Vatican, which makes him sweeter still. To steal one of the Pope’s own priests and convert him is quite a coup,” the voice from behind whispered.

I turned to look at who had spoken and saw Asmodeus.

“Don’t look at me, watch what’s happening,” he said, pointing directly ahead of me. He rested his hand lightly on my shoulder. “I thought you might be headed here. This is one I retrieved myself. I hope to snare an archbishop soon enough. I have been whispering in his ear each night for weeks now. His faith is wavering.”

I glanced down at the hand on my shoulder. He began drumming his fingers and I looked back to Satan.

“Welcome, my son,” Satan said.

The priest said something.

“He says that
He
is gone. You know who the priest refers to, don’t you?’ Asmodeus whispered.

I pointed a finger to the ceiling.

“That’s right,” he replied.

“He was never with you to begin with,” Satan purred.

The priest said something.

“All light is gone, there is only darkness,” Asmodeus translated.

“Embrace the darkness,” Satan encouraged. “You were born from it and it is the darkness to which you shall return.”

The priest said something and I held up my hand so Asmodeus would not translate for me.

“From the darkness comes hope. From the darkness comes love,” I whispered.

“I thought you could not understand him. It’s not your native tongue,” Asmodeus said.

“I’m a quick study,” I replied.

I wasn’t about to tell him that through Danny’s memories I was able to pick up the language, though admittedly I had to listen to a few sentences to get it right.

“Shall you feel my love?” Satan asked.

“Yes,” the priest replied eagerly.

Satan kissed him on the forehead, chest and both shoulders — the sign of the cross. His lips burned the priest, yet he cried out in joy rather than pain. Satan’s marks flared and then faded. To a mortal eye it would be as if the priest had never been marked, but to an immortal the marks pulsed with every breath he took.

Satan righted himself and lowered his body until his feet touched the ground. He dropped his arms to his sides and smiled. There was an odd glow surrounding him, almost like a sickly-looking aura. Asmodeus rushed to him and they embraced, hitting each other on the back.

“That was the best yet,” Asmodeus said.

Satan grinned. “I know.”

I sat in my seat, not paying any attention to Satan or Asmodeus. The priest’s lips were moving, though no sound came out. I stood and walked over to him, crouching down and tilting my head to see his face the right way up. He licked his lips.

“Bride of Satan,” he said, “
touch me.
”

I looked at him curiously. I was already married, in a way, but I was guessing Satan wasn’t much into monogamy. I twisted the band on my finger and looked at it. The platinum sheen was gone, replaced by blackness.
When did that happen?
I thought to myself.
What does it mean? Has Satan somehow made a claim on me?

I pulled the ring off my finger and blew on it, hoping to restore it to the colour it once was. If anything it was shinier, a glossy black. I tossed it into the air and wished it away. It wasn’t my band anymore.

“Bride of Satan,” the priest said, “take my seed and spread it far.”

“Enough,” Satan said. “Another shall spread your seed, on the surface.”

The priest licked his lips and nodded, looking at me longingly. I stood up, confused.

“You’re sending him back?” I asked.

“What better way to spread the word, and his
seed,
than to send him back,” Satan said. “Why do you think there are so many men and women of the cloth who cannot stay celibate, or who are perverted, according to mortal morality?”

“I would’ve thought you’d keep your believers close by.”

“How does that serve me ultimately, Helena?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just wouldn’t trust them if I were you.”

Both Satan and Asmodeus laughed.

“What does trust have to do with anything,” Satan said. “If I can’t trust them it means they’ve exceeded what I could have hoped to get out of them.”

“Aren’t you worried they’ll be converted back?”

Asmodeus sniggered and Satan held up his hand to stop him.

“A valid question, my friend. She doesn’t know any better. Helena, you said it yourself — seeing is believing. If that
thing
up there would come down off His high horse and show Himself, He could easily convert them back to His faith … but
He
won’t, so
I
win.”

I shivered.
Seeing is believing.
I hadn’t seen God, but Satan had, and he no longer believed. Danny had
never
met Him, yet he believed.

Have faith, Helena,
the voice said.

22.
Red Eyes

“Helena, you look a little peaked. Perhaps you need to feed?” Satan said.

“Maybe I do,” I mumbled.

I was still reeling from what I’d seen of the conversion — how the priest had been changed — and the plans to send him topside once more.
Is Satan responsible for paedophiliac clergymen as well?
I thought.

Satan came over to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me out of the chamber. I didn’t even feel his hand burning into me.

“Helena,” he said, “I only bring out what is already inside them. I don’t add anything to the mix.”

Had he known what I was thinking of? I had told him why I’d done what I’d done to the preacher — because of his predilection for children. Maybe he’d guessed. I nodded my head, yet remained silent.

Satan led me to another room, where an embodied soul was being tortured. I paid little attention to what was going on and he sensed I was elsewhere. He clicked his fingers in front of my face to bring me back to the here and now.

“You really must eat. Come along now.”

I followed him blindly back to the small dining room and stood behind the door. There was a luscious spread on the table. Satan sat down to his lunch.

“Asmodeus will be joining us for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind, why should I mind?” I asked.

“He wants to watch you eat,” Satan laughed. “He heard about your
unusual
methods and wants to see it for himself.”

I hadn’t noticed the four vamps that waited, one in each corner, even though the room reeked of them.

Asmodeus opened the door, knocking me off balance.

“You’re decidedly off today, Helena,” Satan said. “Scarnon must have affected you more than I thought.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The demon that attacked you last night.”

Asmodeus closed the door, smiled, and went to sit at Satan’s right. His eyes revealed to me a hatred that was not reflected in his smile — he was giving me a none-too-subtle message. Whether he wasn’t happy that Satan was spending so much time with me — it had
only
been twenty-four hours since I arrived — or something else —
the killing of archangels perhaps?
— I didn’t know. Satan had obviously not noticed the exchange, for he said nothing.

Fuck you!
I thought.

“Yes,” I said absently. “I’m sure a feed will do me the world of good.”

I walked past Asmodeus, smiling, and stood behind Satan’s chair, draping my arms around his neck.

I’ll bet Asmodeus would never do this,
I thought smugly.
I don’t think Satan swings that way. He wouldn’t be happy if Asmodeus tried it on.

“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear, loud enough so Asmodeus could hear, then nibbled his earlobe.

My lips didn’t burn, and while I was surprised I hid it well. Satan reached up to pat my arm — just a mild burn — and laughed.