Page 6 of Sinner: Before Rain (The Devil’s Society)

Chapter

Six

ELIJAH - AGE SIXTEEN

S itting in my black car with black tint, I wait.

My dark hood falls over my face. My teeth play with my lip piercing, which I got a few months ago.

I officially got my license last week, but I have been driving alone since I was fourteen.

Being associated with the infamous Blackwood cult, The Chapel means people look the other way from me.

Except for one. He has been very fucking naughty, and The Dark One conveniently gave his name to Maxton as the next sacrifice at La Notte del Diavolo; Devils Night.

Joe Gregor, he works with the local authorities. He is trying to make a name for himself. He won’t be around much longer to do so.

Street lamps line the residential area. Looking down at my watch, it’s nearly midnight.

Where is this motherfucker ?

Just as I look up, bright headlights reflect in my rearview mirror and turn into his driveway.

Go time.

Getting out of my car, I close the door quietly behind me.

Not to raise suspicion, I walk casually towards his home where his car has just now parked.

Reaching his driveway before he gets out, I walk up it and lean against his trunk.

The door opens quickly. “Hey, who are you?” There is good ol’ Joe.

The car moves behind me as he gets out and slams the door. I hear his shoes against the cement as he walks up to me.

Grabbing my shoulder, he pulls me to face him.

Which is the first of many mistakes he makes tonight.

Slowly raising my head, my eyes connect with his. They widen with realization. A sinister smile forms on my face, I fucking love this part.

“Don’t move, Joe. If you try to run, I will catch you and make your last moments on this earth un-fucking-bearable. Do you understand?”

The lie flows freely out of my mouth. Either way, I’m going to have fun with him.

His lip trembles as his chest rises with each heavy breath.

Holding my hand out, “Give me your cuffs.”

Joe’s head shakes like he has a choice.

“Hard or easy? It’s up to you how this ends.” It’s not .

Slowly moving his hand to his holster, I am aware he could grab his gun and shoot me.

But I am also very quick. I would turn it around on him before he was able to pull the trigger, resulting in him shooting himself in the head.

But it seems like he is being a good little boy for me, he unlatches his cuffs with shaking fingers.

Tired of the waiting, I rip them out of his hand.

“Turn around, place your hands behind your back.” Oh, how the tables have turned. He listens, turning slowly on weak knees. The guy is in his mid-thirties and in good shape, with no family. And acting like a complete bitch.

Reaching out, I pull his wrists together and cuff him tightly, not caring if circulation gets cut off and his hands die. I almost prefer it if that did happen, strictly for my own enjoyment.

“The CCTV has been put on a loop. The cameras here and at the other neighbor homes will be rendered useless if your station even bothers to investigate. Which they won’t. Because they are far wiser than you, Joe.” Taunting him as I push him forward towards my waiting vehicle.

Reaching into my pants pocket, I grip my keys and click the trunk button, it pops open with a dim light shining within it. Lined with clear plastic to not leave stains should this have gone another way.

As we reach it, I push him forward. Losing his balance, he falls face-forward into my trunk. I grab his legs and toss the rest of him in before slamming the trunk closed. Homeboy is in shock. He hasn’t screamed once. Perhaps he is saving them all for me later?

Pulling up to The Chapel, I park my car in front of the entrance which is an archway within a giant wall of rock. Just on the other side of this cliff is the ocean. The coast is lined with them, many of which are home to caves and alcoves.

Reaching behind me, I grab my black backpack which carries my supplies needed for this evening, and then my bat which is on my passenger seat.

As I get out, I throw the bag over my shoulders and slip the bat through a strap so it hangs off it.

Moving to the trunk, I open it. Joe has gotten brave but I expected it, standing back as his feet kick out with a monstrous roar leaving his mouth.

Rolling my eyes, I reach forward with my fist tight and punch him on the side of his head, right on the temple.

This knocks him out, making him nothing more than dead weight.

Gripping under his armpit, I drag him up and over the lip of the trunk. Dropping him to the dirt ground, I close my trunk before re-gripping him and dragging good ol’ Joe into The Chapel.

Torches line the passages, dirt and gravel crunch beneath my boots with each step. There were no other cars here, but I can always count on at least two followers being here watching over the place. Not that they would do anything if anyone did come snooping, but they like to feel tough.

As I turn, Joe’s body follows, his heels dragging, leaving a trail behind us.

Entering the main space, it’s large with unlit white candles surrounding the perimeter, lit torches are on the wall.

At the front of the space is a long, dark wood table which is my workstation today.

Just behind it is an elevated piece of stone where Maxton rules from and just beside the table is the sacred fire, which they worship.

Throwing Joe on the table, I roll his body so he is on his stomach. Tossing my bag and bat down, I reach for my bolt cutters inside of it and snap the cuffs off.

Dropping my cutter and cuffs to my feet, I roll him back over and begin securing his hands and feet with the leather restraints attached to the table.

As I latch the last one up, excitement begins to lace my veins, this fucker isn’t going anywhere.

A tiny voice comes from behind me, “Hi there, Elijah.”

Does it look like I am in the mood for small talk?

My tone is uninviting as I shout back, “Fuck off.”

I hear footsteps scurry away.

Good.

Walking back to my bag, I look at all my options, what do I pick first?

Brushing my fingers over each of my precious tools, I gravitate towards the pliers this time .

Gripping them within my hand, I pull them out, a fucking beautiful piece of steel which is multipurpose. Just how I like it.

Joe is still passed out.

Standing up from my crouched position, I walk over to the long table, which is now Joe’s final resting place.

His head is limp, facing me. I grip his jaw and push my thumb and forefinger on either side of his cheek, forcing his mouth open.

Shoving the pliers in his mouth, I grip one of his canines with my tool, pulling and wiggling it out of his mouth.

The tooth doesn’t follow effortlessly, some work is needed as it dislodges from the bone of his jaw and through his pink gums. He immediately starts to bleed as I slide the long root out.

A loud shriek follows.

Excellent, he’s awake.

Joe tries to move his head, but I regrip it in my hands, squeezing his jaw, holding him still as I bring his tooth out. Holding it up in front of him, I look down. “Good Morning, Joe. Glad you could join me.”

Tears stream down his face. The bitch is already showing how much of a fucking pussy he is.

“Joe, it seems like “The Dark One” gave the good leader your name! Which leads us to this moment, right now. Take it in. It will be one of your last moments.” An evil chuckle leaves me as I use the term The Dark One loosely .

I fucking love this.

Still holding onto his jaw, blood trickles down his chin onto my hand. It’s beautiful, the crimson red against my pale skin ignites a fire within me. My passion is this. I was born to hurt.

Dropping the pliers, the hard steel and his tooth smash on his face, landing directly on his nose. Another painful scream erupts from him, as his nose joins his mouth, bleeding.

Letting go of his chin, I go back to my bag of goodies, this time taking my taser out.

Switching it on, I place it against his exposed neck, just above the collar of his uniform shirt and let the sparks fly.

Joe’s body begins to convulse. The longer I keep it on him, the harder he shakes while his tongue sticks out of his mouth.

His teeth bite down on it as his muscles tighten.

His body tries to contract now his torso lifts him slightly as he is restrained.

Looking down at his body, a wet spot forms by his dick, homeboy has pissed himself.

Looking back up at his face while I keep the device running, his mouth is surrounded by thick blood.

He bit his tongue.

Stopping the electric shock flowing through him, I put the taser down. His body falls limp against the table as I reach up and grip the blood-coated appendage. It is still attached by just a tiny piece of skin and muscle, so I help him by ripping it clean off.

It takes me pushing his forehead backward while my other hand digs its fingernails into the tongue to grip it, then pulling it with everything I have. Once it’s torn clean out of his mouth, more blood follows, gushing down his chin.

Tossing the tongue behind me, I admire my work. And we are only just getting started.

The pig pussy comes in and out of consciousness the entire time I play.

Using scissors, I cut his uniform off him and remove his work belt.

His bare skin is exposed.

With the same scissors, I carve into his stomach, PIG.

Then using my hands, I spread the blood coming from the cuts over his chest, like a piece of art, my art. Rubbing it over his erect nipples, into his coarse chest hair, and up his throat.

Joe’s eyes lazily open, briefly before closing again.

Rolling my eyes, he’s one of the weakest I’ve had the pleasure of destroying.

I left his boxers on as I have no interest in seeing his small dick or being anywhere around his pissy underpants. His work trousers were bad enough.

The next toy I bring out is a miniature version of a bear trap.

I built this myself, as the regular-size one is too big for what I need it for.

Pulling it out of my bag, it’s in its closed position.

Stepping back up to the table where my new pal, Joe lies, I press down on the latch and pry the clamps open.

Each side of the clamp is decorated with sharp spikes, so when it closes, it impales whatever it captures.

I think it’s time for dear Joe to wake up.

Placing the device over his thigh muscles, I push it down. The pressure of his leg pushing into the flat metal piece in the middle triggers the clamps to close. The spikes penetrate through his skin and muscles, and a loud scream erupts, echoing in the cave.

“Welcome back, Joe!”

Whimpers and mumbles of self-pity exit his mouth. “Why? Why?” Can be faintly made out, thanks to his lack of tongue he can no longer speak properly.

Rolling my eyes, I don’t respond.

His leg trembles from the impact. Blood begins to seep out from where the spikes are embedded.

Pride radiates from my chest as I take in the sight before me.

“That’s enough, clean this up. Members are starting to arrive.” Maxton instructs from behind me.

Before I remove the device, I smile at the idea that enters my head. Reaching down, I grab my bat. Lifting it above my head, I slam it down onto the miniature trap, causing the spikes to move inside his leg and through his muscle. More screams fill the room as I continue to beat down on it.

Before stepping back, I look up at the pathetic sight and slam my bat down against his wrist once, twice, three times. Bones crack as I continue to pound into him, and my vision starts to fade to black. But I stop myself before I can become fully entranced in the moment.

Pulling back, I drop my bat, grab my scissors and pliers, and toss them into my open bag. Next, I unlatched the trap from his leg. As the spikes pull out, more blood erupts from him.

Satisfied, I close it back up and add it back to the bag, doing it up and throwing it over my shoulder. Grabbing my bat next, I turn around and head towards the arched entrance where Maxton still remains.

“Do I need to come back, or will you bleed him out?” I casually ask.

Looking at me, his voice is deep. “No dagger tonight, The Dark One requests he goes slowly. A job well done, Elijah. You can go home.”

I don’t acknowledge his words, I don’t need his praise. I need to kill. I need to torture. It’s why I humor this bullshit.

Adrenaline courses through me, I’m not going home.

I’m going to fuck.