Page 39 of A City of Hearts and Feathers (The Order of Anubis #1)

In the flooded catacombs of San Zaccaria, the Acolyte bent his head and prayed to the darkness.

" Maestro oscuro, ascolti la mia preghiera … "

He picked up a knife and cut a shallow line across his thigh. With a handful of blood, he slowly began sketching ancient and twisting glyphs across his bare chest. A ripple of power, ancient and terrible, rose up from the ground, curling around his legs and chest.

"Dark master, hear my prayer," he repeated. "I am your tool. Take me to do your will. My body is your body, flesh of my flesh."

Images flickered through his mind, thick and fast.

"A sacrifice? Yes, of course."

The Demon God replied in gentle whispers, encouragements from master to beloved servant.

"Yes, master, I understand," the Acolyte answered dutifully. "Take my body. Guide me to your chosen sacrifice."

The grounds outside of the Chiesa di San Giacomo dell'Orio had emptied for the night. The Acolyte waited patiently, strength and desire burning in his veins.

There , the voice said from deep inside of him as a woman appeared from around the corner of the church. Her slow stride and black eyes spoke of exhaustion, but she still wore a pleased smile, as if the quiet walk through the streets of Santa Croce was some guilty pleasure. Under her knit sweater her breasts were heavy, and there was a telling swell to her stomach and hips.

Can you not smell her fertility? That aroma of milk and blood and sex .

The Acolyte smiled as he approached her with an unlit cigarette in his hand. " Mi scusi, hai da accendere ?"

She returned his smile with an apologetic, " Io… No ."

He gave a disappointed shrug, waiting until she reached the shadows of the church before following her.

It was dawn when the Demon left the Acolyte naked and shivering on the floor of his apartment, his hands and clothes covered in blood and clay, his soul on fire inside of him.