by Mark Tufo
Cherry’s technique must be quite revitalizing.
“Can you hear me?” Sabrina said.
“You can fly,” Cherry said.
“We’ll talk about that later. First, we have to get Luke to a hospital.”
Luke’s eyes snapped open. “No hospitals.”
“Ah, so you have a high co-pay, huh? Welcome to modern American health care.”
“You know I can’t be saved by mortal powers,” he said. “That’s church wood in me.”
“The wound isn’t bleeding anymore,” she said.
He looked vulnerable and cute. “It’s infecting me. Like gangrene.”
“Guess this isn’t a good time to give you the spiel about accepting God into your heart,” she said.
“I told you, I don’t have a heart.”
“But you’re worth saving.”
He gave her a grimacing smile. “You defeated him?”
“Chum for the sharks. I guess I could have brought him down here so you could have a late-night snack but—”
“What are you guys talking about?” Cherry said. “What did you do with Roy? I saw you flying with him over the church and then you were lost in the dark.”
And better for you if you stay in the dark…
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the dregs of the dying squall. Mingled with the noise was God’s voice: “Angel blood.”
You sure you don’t mean “Smell the glove”?
“He needs angel blood to survive,” God said.
Oh, so you want him to live? Even though he is a life-sucking creature of darkness?
“He’s a…necessary evil. For now.”
And if I let him drink from me, what happens to me?”
“Blessed are the clean of heart.”
Come on, don’t spout Bible verses. That’s not fair.
“Life isn’t fair, Sabrina. Only me.”
And the thunder died away, the wind fell, and the clouds thinned. The moon hung like a wax melon in the sky.
“Cherry,” Sabrina said. “I need you to go to the boat.”
Cherry had picked up the spear gun and was examining the piece of wood attached to the spear.” “What’s going on here?”
“I’ll explain later. But we have to get Luke back to the mainland.”
“You’re going to do something kinky, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
Sabrina shrugged. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Cherry nodded at Sabrina’s wings. “What about those? Why don’t you fly him to the mainland?”
“I don’t think I’m strong enough. Will you please go?”
Cherry pursed her lips in thought. “Another date ends in disaster.”
“Tell me about it.”
“At least you’ve got a man. Whatever he is.”
“Yes, but I have to do…something kinky…to save him. And I need to do it alone.”
“Okay,” Cherry said.
Cherry walked down the street, letting the tip of the spear gun drag in the sand. Dawn pinked the rim of the Atlantic horizon. Sabrina would have to hurry.
She gave Luke a light slap on the cheek. “Honey, wake up.”
Luke’s eyes rolled open. “Huh? Where are we? I was dreaming I was hanging upside down in a cave.”
Sabrina leaned over him until her neck was just above his lips. His breath—or what passed for breath—played over her skin and made her shiver. It was a shiver of fear, but she pretended it was delight.
“Bite me,” she said.
“Huh?”
“Bite me!”
“I can’t.”
“Bite me or you die. For real this time.”
“That might not be such a bad thing.”
“We need you, Luke. Don’t play martyr. Suck me off and be done with it.”
“I can’t hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me. I have it on good authority.”
When you believe in God, you trust Him. What choice do you have, really?
Luke seemed to gain energy and wriggled beneath her. “I…I…”
She pressed her neck against his mouth, letting her hair drift across his face. He moaned and surrendered, and his teeth drove into her flesh. She shuddered and ground her hips against him. She couldn’t tell if she was having an orgasm or if she was about to throw up. It all blended together into one fuzzy ball of weirdness.
But Luke stiffened beneath her, and she heard the smacking sounds as he fed, and the pain in her neck gave way to a glowing sensation.
“Feet of clay,” she whispered. Her wings retracted as she relaxed.
While he was intent on his feeding, Sabrina slipped her hand to his injury and yanked the splinter free. He didn’t pause in his blood lust, and soon gripped her with intense energy.
He rolled her over and removed his fangs from her flesh and began planting tiny, wet kisses on her chest. She imagined he was leaving bloody splotches on her body. She shuddered.
Love is another kind of trust where you have no choice, right?
He was reaching for the buttons of her blouse when she stopped him. “The sun’s coming up, honey. You’re half an hour from becoming a crispy critter.”
Luke, now his sexy old self, blinked and looked around as if only now returning to his senses. “Oh, yeah. Right.”
Sabrina looked at the belfry as Luke helped her to her feet. “Roy was one of them, like you said.”
“One day you’ll start trusting me.”
Yeah, right. She didn’t dare mention that he may have accidentally said he loved her. And she didn’t want to think about what would happen now that Luke had fed from her. She was already dead, so how could she be undead? She and God would have to have a serious talk about this.
She glanced down the street and saw Cherry yank her head back behind the edge of a vacant old house. Great. Now I get to break one or two more commandments. Because there’s no way I can tell her the truth.
“Did you know what Roy was doing?” Sabrina said, holding Luke’s hand as they hurried along the street. She felt a little dizzy, but then again, it could have been all the flying and not the fact that she’d just given her juice to a vampire.
“Summoning, like they always have.”
“Do you know what he’s summoning?”
Luke shook his head. “They’ve never gotten close. So far, I’ve always been able to stop the summoners. That’s why the Gog and Magog haven’t invaded yet.”
She told him about all the ghost ships she’d seen riding the stormy surf. “Hundreds of them, maybe thousands,” she finished.
“That’s not good.”
“What do we do?”
Luke squinted against the coming sunrise. “For one thing, we’re going to need a bigger boat.”
THE END
About the author:
Scott Nicholson is the international bestselling author of more than 20 thrillers, including The Home, McFall, Disintegration, Liquid Fear, Speed Dating with the Dead, and the After post-apocalyptic series. His books have appeared in the Kindle Top 100 more than a dozen times in five different countries. Visit his website at www.AuthorScottNicholson.com
Sign up for his Tao of Boo newsletter for giveaways and free books: http://eepurl.com/tOE89.
VIEW OTHER KINDLE BOOKS BY SCOTT NICHOLSON:
Novels
After #0: First Light
After #1: The Shock
After #2: The Echo
After #3: Milepost 291
After#4: Whiteout
Zapheads #1: Bone and Cinder (with Joshua Simcox)
The Scarecrow (Solom #1)
The Narrow Gate (Solom #2)
The Home
McFall
Creative Spirit
Disintegration
The Red Church
Speed Dating with the Dead
The Skull Ring
Drummer Boy
The Harvest
Kiss Me or Die
Liquid Fear
Chronic Fear
&
nbsp; Cursed (with J.R. Rain)
Bad Blood (with J.R. Rain & H.T. Night)
Spider Web (with J.R. Rain)
Ghost College (with J.R. Rain)
The Vampire Club (with J.R. Rain)
Meat Camp (with J.T. Warren)
October Girls
Crime Beat
The Dead Love Longer
Fangs In Vain
Burial to Follow
Story Collections
Curtains
Flowers
Ashes
The First
Zombie Bits
Head Cases
Gateway Drug
Missing Pieces
These Things Happened
American Horror
Children’s Books
If I Were Your Monster (with Lee Davis)
Too Many Witches (with Lee Davis)
Ida Claire (with Lee Davis)
Duncan the Punkin (with Sergio Castro)
Bad Day for Balloons (with Sergio Castro)
BOX SETS
Ethereal Messenger
Mystery Dance
Horror Movies
Ghost Box: Six Supernatural Thrillers
Scott Nicholson Library, Vol. 1
Scott Nicholson Library, Vol. 2
Scott Nicholson Library, Vol. 3
Scott Nicholson Library, Vol. 4
Box of Boo (Library, Vol. V)
Mad Stacks: Short Stories Box Set
Bad Stacks: Short Stories Box Set
Odd Stacks: Short Stories Box Set
Cover Art By Lisa Vasquez
© 1999, 2014 Lisa Vasquez. All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1461031086
ISBN-10: 1461031087
THE UNSAINTLY
By Lisa Vasquez
Condemn me to my belly; I’ll still walk all over you.
From the Author, a word.
If you’re reading this book, now, it means that I have finally finished writing down the beginning of Isabel’s story. In doing so, I feel compelled to tell you a few things, first.
When I began this book, I had no idea that it would become what it has. It took a life of its own and poured from my heart as a symbol of the strife and pursuit of my soul to look upon the face of God and to find my own salvation.
There are things you will read in this book that are disturbing and while I make no apologies for that – it is after all, Isabel’s journey – I will have compassion for those that have more delicate sensibilities. Consider this your warning. It is not a build-up. It is not to a way to set up this book to be “more than it delivers”. Take it as you will and know that as its author, it was as hard to write it. It was one thing to see the scenes in my head, but another thing to share them. It left me vulnerable. I weighed back and forth whether I should even let another person read them.
Then I said, “To Hell with it.”
In closing – I believe in a higher power. I believe in Evil. I believe that we are all connected to one another in spirit, regardless of race, religion, and all the other bullshit. Turn us inside out and we are all same color. I dared to write this book. Do you dare to read it?
I hope that it questions your faith and your beliefs. Because if your faith is never questioned, you will never truly believe.
WITHOUT DARKNESS THERE CAN BE NO LIGHT
PROLOGUE
It was a warm, clear summer sky over the trail to the private garden of one of the monasteries in the south of France. During the hour following lunch and prayers, many of the clergy would tend to the garden.
Among the meticulously cared for roses were statues so lifelike it felt as though they would turn and move at any moment. Saints with upturned eyes gazing infinitely into heaven were accompanied by angels with open wings playing with doves in the small ponds that trickled with the sounds of the fountain centered in it. Rows and rows of flowers teased the senses. The aroma was not one that could easily be forgotten as each breeze brought about another waft of fragrance released from the petals that waved gently on the air.
Two men in particular, dressed in monks’ robes, followed the cobble stoned path to a more private area where benches would give them a place to sit. The soft rustling of their hems passed over their sandals and they both held their hands clasped within large brown sleeves. The man on the left kept his oversized cowl low over his face, shadowing his features while the other had his hood down, soaking in the light of the day.
Finding a secluded table, the older one was pleased to see the ornate table was topped with marble chess pieces carved by the hands of the monks inside. He motioned to the empty seat across from him and the other chuckled before accepting the offer, sitting down.
The duo seemed deeply engaged in quiet conversation, leaning in as they took turns responding. Every so often one would look over their shoulder or around to keep their eye on their surroundings. Sometimes, one would even laugh and shake his head at a comment made by the other.
Every now and then, between conversations a piece was moved by one and the other would quietly contemplate his counter. As light as the topic may have appeared to be, the tension of competition radiated out from both of them.
“This is an age old debate between us” the man on the left said. He then peered up from under his hood at the old man on his right side. His companion smiled and looked up at the heavens, crystal blue eyes rivaled any ocean and his hair was a brilliant white, betraying his age and wisdom.
The clergy around them never seemed to take much notice of them as they sat there. The older male on the right removed his purse and opened it to stick his hand inside and throw out some stale crumbs for the birds that appeared to be drawn to him. Some would sit on his shoulder and sing beautiful songs that birds were never heard to sing. He smiled at his new feathered friends then leaned forward sliding his piece over a few squares (Nb1-c3, Bc8-g4)[1].
“So it is. But do I not know all things?” was the reply.
“That has never been proven” Grinned the dark man, sliding another piece into place.
“Hasn’t it?” replied the white haired gentleman.
A frown came over the older man’s opponent at the move and he refocused on the board as he responded. Agitation was starting to show through in his voice as he lifted his piece and slid it into position (h2-h3, Bg4xf3).
“You always make it seem as if you knew I would question you. I disagree. I think you were shocked to find out that free will was a natural progression of my creation. I was your first, after all.” He chided. “The one made most like your image.”
“You’re a spoiled child, Lucifer. You always have been.”
“Ah, but father, you made me this way and then you cast me away? Discarded like rubbish?” The dark man hissed his reply. “That will make this event all the more, sweeter. I shall, once more, taint your current fascination. I will once again be that thorn in your side. I will never let you know peace.”
Though his expression did not change, the older man’s face grew stern. It was a subtle shift in the air temperature which started to drop and announce the impending storm. The familiar chill to the air carried on it, the smell of the ocean to mix with the garden’s perfume and the power of the storm began to build strength pulling the nimbus clouds into a swarm like agitated bees.
“You can shut the door, Father, but I will not be ignored” Lucifer condemned.
Then the man with the shadowed features stood up, bowing his head. Even after their tense conversation and harsh words he showed reverence, however resentful it was. No response was shown to the one who still had his head lowered, by the elder; the man seemed to be instead, struggling to control an underlying wrath.
Slowly lifting his head, glowing eyes from under the large cowl met the rigid face of his father. Lucifer growled then turned on his heel, stalking off into the distance.
The Unsaintly
EXODUS - LUCIFER
His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as
a flame of fire
Revelation 1:14
AND I SHALL GIVE THEM THE MORNING STAR…
The heavens rumbled with thunder. Skies that went on forever in cerulean, bled with hues of deep crimson and amber. There was a war going on: Father versus Son in the quest for independence, dominance and escape from rule. Dressed in brilliant white robes, an overlay of gold and chromium, the Father stood seething with pure wrath awaiting the approach of the prisoner. When they entered the chambers lined by pillars and the praetorian legion of soldier angels, the King of Heaven pivoted and closed the steps to greet them.
“Lucifer, what have you done!” He shouted, his hand whipping across the perfect visage of his creation’s face, marring the reflection that mirrored his own.
Lucifer’s head fell to the side at the blow and he spit out the thick, black blood that filled his mouth before responding, “Taken what is rightfully ours!”
“Rightfully?” God laughed. “I created you – and I can unmake you just as swiftly.” God was leaning in, now. His eyes filled with lightning and swarming clouds, grey like the storm.
The Praetorian Guard broke their stillness, each one turning to look upon the other. From behind them, the ranks began to fill the chambers as the chaos continued around them. Lucifer had conducted the mutiny and uprising of his brothers and sisters who were now slaughtering one another just beyond the protection of this room.
Lucifer turned his gaze upward to meet his Creator’s eyes. Mirrored irises reflected the madness that his maker bore down on him, now, even as he struggled against the chains that bound him. The guards on either side remained unmoving but he could sense the uneasiness within them. Lucifer was the first. The strongest. The most dangerous of all of them. He was their trainer, and their master, second only to Lord God himself.
Lucifer was about to lunge forward when the doors burst open and another ran toward them and collapsed to his knees between the two poised males.
