Page 38 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

“You think I have sex with dead bodies?”

“Not just any, which… I wouldn’t put that past you… just the ones you’ve killed.”

Her words are like acid. Shoving her back, she stumbles down to the ground and yells out when a stick jabs her somewhere I can’t see at the moment. Utterly disgusting, vile to think of anything of that sort. I’d never do something so callous.

Oh, but you’d do other things Lucien. Bleed people dry, stomp on their chests until they stop breathing, bash their heads against the edge of the bathtub, watch your sister get gang raped.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, asshole!” Sadie shouts back.

“Wait, no, I— Sadie, I wasn’t shouting at you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Samael.”

“Who is that?” Her words catch me off guard, more than responding to my outburst that should have been solely for the dark one inside of my head.

She says nothing, just gets back up on her feet and walks in the direction of the cabin.

I guess our game of hide and seek is over now.

Pity, I was having fun hunting her down.

I can always tie her down on the island later, get a rat to crawl across her bare skin, and force her to tell me who Samael is.

Yeah, that sounds like an excellent plan.

Seeing her fair skin scraped and nibbled on by the rats.

Bloody bites peppering along the softer corners of her young frame.

My heart is racing now; I can feel my head swimming at the notion of torturing her.

Just like when I threw her into the car the first time, every atom inside of me is vibrating and is violently alive.

There’s still no way to explain this. When we were on our way here, I thought about that moment over and over again; analyzing it minute by minute, second by second, never coming to a conclusion.

Here it is again, and I’m reeling over what the hell is happening to me.

Focused on it, my body crashes into Sadie, not realizing she stopped. Glaring, I peer at her and she’s completely still, focused ahead of her and there’s that weird tick again. She’s going somewhere else mentally, but why? Following her gaze, it hits me then, too.

We have company.

She is useless!

I gave her a specific task to do, and the tick I thought I saw in her was just plain old fear.

Where is the psychotic part of her when you fucking need her?

Two men showed up at the cabin and were slipping into the rear door when we made it back.

If we were just a smidge too early, they may have gotten the jump on us.

Too late, and who knows what would have happened, they could have come back later in the night and made off with the girl or worse, stayed around.

Well, not entirely worse. I still have one here.

Reaching out, I slap his face a few times to get him to wake up.

I originally planned to strap Sadie to the island but when an opportunity presents itself, you take it.

Only problem is, she’s squeamish, and we can’t have that—not at all.

So, I’ve been letting this one stay alive while the other is strung up from the rafters and bleeding like a stuck pig into all of the pots and pans I could find.

Of course, Sadie is off boo-hooing in her room.

She will be getting over that shit real fast; won’t have my own flesh and blood cowering and hiding away in some dark room when she could be out here, enjoying the spoils with me.

The man on the counter is difficult to rouse, but that’s fine.

He will come to quickly when we start sawing into his joints and removing his limbs. First thing’s first: I need my niece.

With an empty pot, I trade it out with a half-full one below the strung-up intruder and take it with me down the hall. Not moving fast enough where the viscous liquid sloshes around, nor making a mess. I also keep my movements quiet; the whole point of this is to take her by some sort of surprise.

Lulu, be easy with the girl.

Mother.

I say, make her cry.

The dark one adds.

“Would you two be quiet? This is going to be a bonding experience and it’s only done correctly when covered in blood.”

Rapping my left-middle knuckle on her door, I push it open and step inside. She’s curled up on the nearly-bare mattress, remnants of an abandoned child’s bed. Fitting, since she’s such a damn baby about things.

“Awe, how sweet. She cried herself to sleep.”

I laugh mutely at myself, observing the slight rise and fall of her chest and how relaxed the rest of her body is. She still has on the same damn clothes and that’s just as irritating as anything else. We’re going to have to fix that problem, starting now.

Lifting the pot, I tilt it and begin pouring the still-warm blood all over my pretty little niece.

That laugh I was muting just moments ago is now loud and unapologetic.

It feels so good to laugh this deeply, especially at the flailing young girl in a full blown panic.

Dropping the vessel, some of the blood splashes on my jeans and across the floor before it is done clattering on the hard surface.

I brace my hands on my waist, impressed with my little prank.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Sadie shouts, her hands frantically trying to wipe the blood away from her face and off her skin. Resistance is futile, though, all she’s doing is smearing it in like a macabre lotion.

“You don’t have the prerequisites for my list of ailments, young lady.”

“Jesus Christ, you derange—“

I stop her before she can finish her sentence—not because there’s an insult at the end of it, but, you know, she spoke ill of our creator.

My hand slaps over her mouth and now I’m pinning her to the crimson drenched bed.

The strength in my hold pushes her head hard into the pillow beneath her.

Platinum strands turn pink from the quick way they absorb the blood.

“What did I tell you? Need I punish you for your transgressions, Sadie? I have a myriad of ways I can do that, or do you want to earn your forgiveness for having such a foul fucking mouth?”

Snapping my free hand out, I grab hold of one of her thin wrists to stop the motion of her frantically wiping away the blood.

There’s a long pause as I stare at the contrast of red to pale skin.

Against my better judgement, I direct her to start massaging it in once more.

Sadie is hesitant at first, but she complies.

I hook a finger under the hem of her shirt and slide it up, exposing the sunken curve of her torso where blood pools in her pierced belly button.

My upper lip hooks in revulsion at the silver bar there, remembering how Nadia was pierced too, damaging the temples of their bodies.

She will answer for that, just not to me.

Keeping her pinned to the bed by her face, my other hand releases her wrist, giving her better range of motion to continue slathering the gore across her body.

Over and over, until there is nothing but a thin bright scarlet layer beginning to congeal and dry.

I’m nearly blind to the way she’s drifted out of her terrified and angry state, now in one of reverence.

Slow strokes sliding up and down her stomach, along the sides of her waist where she’s the narrowest, then over the flare of her hips.

Absolute perfection.

“Don’t stop, Sadie,” I demand, my tone not quite as sharp.

Releasing her mouth and taking a step back, my head tilts to the side, scrutinizing how she moves the gore higher under her shirt before grazing her thin hands down until she can’t reach any further on her thighs.

The adrenaline is back now. It’s suffocating, introducing a need I can’t seem to wrap my head around.

Needing to see the way the blood makes her feel, I flick my eyes up to hers and they’re black.

Deep pools of obsidian staring through me just as she lifts her knees up, bringing the heels of her filthy feet to the bottom of her behind, continuing to paint her legs and now her dirty toes with someone else’s life force.

“Who are you?” I ask, knowing Sadie is nowhere to be seen.

“Nosey boy, that is not your business.” Her voice is a bit raspier, sultry even. Like she lives a life of luxury and has no need to hurry her words.

“Answer the question. I have a gift for her, and need her complaint. Can’t do that if you’re in control.”

“Is there more blood? If so, I’ll let you have her, right after I get to play in it.”

This one— she’s like me. Me as in Lucien, not the darker one, not Mother. Me. My brand of fucked up and depraved. Good heavens, what did Nadia bring into the world?

“Name, please.” Using my manners, I’m hoping to earn a sweet prize.

“Liz Bathory.”

“As in, the Blood Countess?”

“Mmmhm, good boy.”

Her hands dip below the waistband of Sadie’s shorts, but swiftly, I knock them away.

Scowling down at the woman. I’ll be damned if I allow her to touch my niece in an inappropriate manner.

Not letting her get ahead of herself, I then pull Sadie’s body up from the bed by fisting her stained shirt.

She leans into me—Liz that is—rubbing against me, transferring the blood off Sadie’s form onto mine, and it’s taking every ounce of self control not to throw her down on the floor and put her out of her misery.

Possessions are a deviation from the path of God and I’m nowhere equipped to end it. So, I’ll make do, and harness her evil.

Curling my hand around the back of her head, fingers tangling into the messy blonde strands, I yank her head back and she grins.

All I can see is Sadie, a child, a dubious abomination, but still a child.

Soft pale skin, unmarked by the wrath of atonement, soft features who have yet to shed all of the baby weight, and a sacrifice.

Leading her in, I press a kiss to her temple.

The being inside of her snickers but doesn’t fight me.

Her curious hands wander up my sides and around to my mid-back, until they draw me close.

I’m taken aback by the motion, by her unabashedness at drawing me in.

Then she goes and does something to me that I’ve not experienced since I was a tiny boy—Sadie hugs me.

Simultaneously a filthy lie, and jubilation.