Chapter 2
TWO
LEVIATHAN
If I could fully articulate my emotions, I’d hate people.
I’d hate these meetings, the moments where the princes are paraded around for Master’s viewing pleasure, a reminder of the monsters he keeps on his chain, barking and chomping at the bit to be let loose. But these meetings are necessary, and I recognize that. I recognize that we’re an important part of his empire. A cult is what Mammon calls it. I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay enough attention to the intricacies the way Mammon does. I don’t question what I do, I just do .
Bark, bark.
What I do know is that Master’s followers are spineless sheeple. High and mighty members of the community that want a greater purpose for their miserable lives. I don’t know if I buy into Master’s religion, his practices, or what he preaches. Not that it matters. Nothing matters.
Chomp, chomp.
Their murmuring voices fill the large auditorium. On the outside, it looks like a clubhouse or town center found in most gated communities, but it’s been fit to match Master’s specific needs. Just like the gym is a cafeteria and the pool house is a viewing room. The places where the more… nefarious things are done are hidden in some of the houses, all sound proof, all hiding the atrocities that lurk within.
The crowd falls into hushed whispered praises as they stand, and I know that means that Master has made his appearance. I turn my head to the right, looking over Asi’s shoulder as Mammon helps Master up the steps to the podium. Nobody knows his true age, but I would guess he’s in his seventies, but a deep illness has taken him. It’s poisoned his muscles and polluted his blood, but he still holds all the authority necessary to rule over his kingdom with Mammon at his side like a faithful guard dog.
Mammon leads him to the microphone, placing both his hands on the wooden podium as he takes his cane. Master wants to appear strong when addressing his followers, not that any of them would ever dare question him. Most are here willingly, even if their families and children are terrified every day of their lives. Most are brainwashed or too weak-minded to think for themselves, even though the outsiders consider them the leaders of the town.
Bark, bark.
Master holds his palms up and lowers them, the crowd returning to their seats at his command. Only my brothers and I stay standing, lurking, our eyes darting between our Master and the people who could potentially pose a threat to him. Paranoia fills me, excitement at the possibility that today will be one of those days when Master allows me to run free.
“My faithful,” Master begins, smiling with that kind smile that lures people in. “Thank you for joining us today.”
Not that they had a choice.
Witnessing Bel and Gore skipping down the streets was enough of a sign that if they decided to stay home, bad things would follow from the lunatics who laugh at other’s pain.
“Be thy Blessed Fruit,” the crowd says, their voices mixing in an almost hypnotic sort of dazy cadence.
“Today marks the beginning of the twentieth Autumn Equinox we have gathered here. Your ancestors, your kin, they have all reveled in the delights that this momentous season brings. And with that revelry, comes our annual sainted ceremony.”
Now excitement buzzes in the air. The mad followers, driven to greed and gluttony by Master’s influence jump to the edge of their seats. The ones that dread these times receive snarls and nips from Bel and Gore, reminding them once again of their place. Most are intrigued and curious, some find it a mundane necessary part of the year.
The five Princes grow agitated and restless.
“As per our traditions, our Princes have gathered here today for the holy decision.” He turns to Asi. “Asmodeus. Reveal the bounty.”
Asi walks toward a draped box right beside Master. Without the flourish Bel or Gore would have given, he drags the cloth off the box, revealing the bounty. Tiny scrolls tied up in neat little ribbons by Master’s conduits. His conduits—the most revered of his followers—are said to contain the essence of the Master within their souls, hence why they’re given the momentous task of assembling the bounties..
“My Princes,” Master says, waving his hands with dark musicality. “Receive thy bounty.”
We go in ascending order—youngest to oldest—per the tradition. In their early twenties, Bel and Gore are first. Gore hops over to the box, excited as he plucks a scroll and hands it to Master.
“Belphegor,” he begins, undoing the scroll. “Trista Richards.”
Gore can barely contain himself as he steps back beside us.
Bel is next. He giggles madly as he roots through the box with closed eyes, like a little kid searching for his prize. When he’s satisfied, and after a grunt from Mammon, he produces a scroll and gives it to Master.
“Beelzebub. Robert Simmons.”
I know Bel wants to scream to the hells because he prefers men. Something about how satisfying it is to play with their cocks while they whine for mercy. Sick fuck.
“Asmodeus. Marta Crowley.”
After choosing his bounty, Asi—indifferent as ever—simply bows his head.
I approach the box with stealth and precision, completely forgetting the crowd around us. This is the moment I wait for. The allowed and guaranteed practice. Something in my gut clenches as my fingers glide and sift through the scrolls, a sense of deep foreboding mixed with quiet excitement filling me.
I pluck a scroll and take it to Master, almost hesitant to have the precious offering leave my hands. There’s… There’s something different about this one. Although it’s my twentieth time, I’ve never felt this kind of satisfaction, especially when the name rings through the auditorium.
“Leviathan. Aiden Walker.”
Everything else fades and I think I momentarily black out. The name means nothing to me. I don’t recognize the man, but my blood roars and my heart stutters.
Aiden Walker. Aiden Walker. Aiden Walker.
This year’s bounty. One of the five sacrifices that will purge our tainted cult for the end of days. The one chosen by fate and destiny to be my bounty.
I smile wickedly, turning to face my brothers who hold similar smirks, even Mammon. Because this is our time, our moment.
The hunt is on.
Chomp, chomp.