Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
LEVIATHAN
I’ve surprised even myself with my self control.
It’s been a week of simply stalking Aiden, hugging the dark corners where he can’t see me, trailing behind him like his shadow come to life. I don’t think he suspects anything, but I do see when the little tickle of awareness pokes at my little lamb. It’s a subtle scrunch of his nose and a twitch of his lip. Like he can sense I’m near, sense his kindred soul waiting for him, and it fills me with a satisfaction I’ve never felt before.
Unfortunately, I’ve had to put a pause on my observation of him. Bel and Gore have grown bored of their bounties, and they’re ready to present them as sacrifices.
As per tradition, we’ve gathered all the members in the auditorium. There are only about two dozen special conduits, but every single citizen of this gated community is a member, amassing roughly two hundred residents. Despite their standing, they all wear dark navy robes, each holding a thin lit candle.
My brothers and I stand by the altar positioned in the center of the stage, each of us wearing black, signifying that we are the chosen to carry out the deed. The disciples, the princes, the ones with the utmost holiness.
Master smiles as two of his conduits bring out Bel and Gore’s bounties, tied to something akin to a dolly, both gagged and fighting against their restraints. I snicker. They should know it’s fruitless by now, especially when I can see the evidence of Bel and Gore’s deviancy written on their skin. From their broken noses that face the opposite direction and the swell of their eyes, I know that the terror twins sure had their fun.
The conduits take the bounties off the dollies, forcing them to lie on the altars that have been set up. More conduits come to help tie them up, restraining their wrists above their heads and their ankles spread as far as possible. They’re dressed in red, symbolic of what’s about to happen, and I’ve always thought it was a shame because you can never see how prettily they bleed.
Master usually addresses the crowd when we gather together, but this is a process where he doesn’t speak. No one does. There are no words that need to be shared. Everyone knows why we do this, hoping that it’ll purify our souls for when the end of days comes, and silence is mandatory.
At least from the audience.
Once the bounties are tied and gagged, Bel and Gore step up beside their respective people. They take hands and bow their heads, mumbling under their breath the prayer we all know by heart.
Please, accept this great sacrifice.
This bounty that we give you.
Find the strength and the will to keep us safe.
Honestly, it all sounds like a poorly constructed, shitty poem.
When they’re done, and they raise their heads, they’ve become different people. It’s no longer Gore and Bel, the psychos that just enjoy fucking with people and fucking each other. They’re not the ones with a sick twisted sense of humor. Gore isn’t the surprisingly soft and sweet guy. Bel isn’t the joking brat.
No, now they’re killers.
They’ve been allowed to let their psychopathy show. They’re reduced to nothing but their baser instincts. They are what Master saw in them all those years ago when he collected them from their past and brought them to this present. They are Belphegor and Beelzebub now.
With a snarl and a snapping of their jaws, they take their knives and start the slow process of cutting into their bounties from their crotches, up their stomach, to their chest. The bounties scream, and even though they’re gagged, it’s like a tidal wave of excruciating pain being unleashed.
And the crowd fucking loves it.
This is as much a sacrifice for Master as it is for his followers. Secretly, they each itch for and crave the bloodshed. They’re just as demented as the rest of us, just unwilling to do anything about it. So they relish in seeing pain inflicted on others as long as they can claim themselves innocent.
With practiced ease, Bel and Gore stick their bare hands into their bounty’s chest, rooting around as screams and whines and trembles try to stop them. They’re still alive and that’s the point.
Because they need to look at their own heart beat out of their chest.
With a roar, Gore gets his bounty’s heart out first, and it’s almost impossible that they manage to stay awake. But they do. Gore squeezes it, almost like squeezing the life out of it, before licking a long stripe up the blood dripping down his wrist. Bel does the same, then rips a chunk out of the heart, before stuffing it down his bounty’s throat.
The crowd hoots and hollers, praising Bel and Gore for their job well done. The two fuckers hold hands as they approach the edge of the stage, holding their joined hands over their heads as they revel in the attention. They’re god forsaken princes now, living up to their namesake.
Asi and Mammon are buzzing beside me, the energy in the room spurring them on. For the two with the most self control, seeing their brothers lose their fucking minds is doing something to them. Normally, it’d affect me too, but it’s just not registering tonight.
Because I’m too focused on Aiden Walker.
On the image of him tied up on the altar. The way he’d look at me with beautiful fear in his eyes. In anticipation of how satisfying it’ll feel to have his heart in my hands.
But then the fantasy merges into something else and it makes my own heart clench.
His tears don’t taste as sweet as I imagined as I lick them off his cheek. His screams… They slice through me. His hope when I hesitate with the knife raised over him.
I claw at my collar, dropping my head with a snarl as I try to fight against these thoughts. They don’t make sense. They confuse me. They… NO!
FUCK THIS!
Without being excused, I stumble out of the auditorium. I’m sure that Mammon will have something to say about this, but I don’t give a fuck. I need to see Aiden—my little lamb—why? I’m not too sure. But all I know is that I can’t control myself now.
I rush out of the auditorium like a beast. Feeling… insecure. Insecure and unsure of myself. Feeling all these emotions that don’t make sense in my head. Feeling like I need to let Aiden Walker know he’s mine— finally —or else I won’t be able to breathe.
And even the collar might not save him now.