32. Rain

Turning around, I face the remaining petrified followers of The Chapel.

All cowards—the whole lot of them.

Pointing to the four immediately in front of me, “Pick him up and hold him down on the table like you have done with all of us in the past.”

My tone surprises me, it’s authoritative and confident. I want to smile with pride, but I resist. This isn’t the time for celebration. People have been and are dying here tonight.

The selected four don’t move.

They start elbowing each other, communicating as if to say you go first. It’s evident now why they are here as followers, none of them could be leaders.

“Did she stutter? Leading up to tonight, you all called her ‘your’ Principessa Oscura, when did that change?” Elijah’s strong voice dominates the room while calling them out on their shit.

None of them respond.

Elijah picks his bat up, steps towards the four and his tone turns eerie. “That’s what I thought. Now get the fuck over there and get this sack of shit on the table and keep him there.”

“You ungrateful children,” my father moans while still on the ground. The four I select scurry over and grab him by his arms and legs. He tries to fight it but is still groggy from being knocked out, his efforts are weak.

Elijah braces himself on the other side of the table as they lay my father’s body down.

“You can’t do this to me. I am your Master, release me at once, peasants!”

I clear my throat, “How does it feel? Being helpless, vulnerable and completely at my mercy?”

His head snaps towards me, spitting his words, “You are no child of mine.”

“Sadly and regretfully, I am. But I wish I wasn’t.”

Elijah pounds both of his fists on top of the table. It shakes from his force. Looking at him, his head moves up slowly, his eyes glare and his face is hard.

“You are all as fucked as he is if any of you try to help him.” He allows his words to sink in before continuing, “As for you Maxton, you delusional, egotistical, power-hunger con artist, by now I suspect you have guessed that I didn’t bring Rain here because of The Dark One, or you really summoned her.”

Elijah lowers his voice to a loud whisper and looks directly into my father’s eyes, “Between the two of us, I think she’s going to kill you.”

A tiny laugh escapes me, I have not seen this side of E during kills before, and the sarcastic humor is an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

“He’s right. I am. Perhaps I will have remorse after it’s done, although I cannot be sure, yet. But The Dark One told us your name next, who are we to deny him, right father?”

Elijah bangs on the table again, this time more rapidly with his closed fists. Hysterical laughter erupts from his mouth.

My father’s eyes widened in fear.

The four holding him down startle, and the pounding scares them further. The unpredictability of the situation adds to it. I fucking love it.

It’s about time they all felt how it feels to be on the other side.

As Elijah stops pounding, the room goes completely silent, waiting to see what will come next.

Gripping the blade, I put the tip on the table and begin walking, circling it. The tip scrapes alongside me, only lifting it when passing one of the four holding him down. My eyes take him in, still draped in his black robe with the gold embellishment on the breast. Black dress shoes cover his feet.

As I reach Elijah, I whisper to him while keeping my eyes on my father, “Tear it open.”

Leaning forward, E grips the middle of the robe on either side of the seam and rips it open. The buttons pop off and fly away. Throwing it open underneath, he is wearing matching black trousers and a shirt.

“Thank you.” I whisper to E while touching his arm, signaling for him to step back again, that I’ve got this.

“Your mother would be ashamed, embarrassed even. Turning on your family like this?” My father taunts.

It works.

I react.

Before I can even think, I am slamming my blade into his armpit, which is directly in my line of vision thanks to the people holding his arms up.

A loud howl of pain follows.

Pulling the blade out, blood begins to soak into his shirt.

Instead of scolding him for speaking ill of my mother, the strong female who raised me, nurtured me and loved me until her last breath, I continue around the table until I reach the foot of it. His legs are spread, just like mine were that day before Elijah saved me.

It’s time to show him how it feels.

Dragging my blade, I start just above his ankle on the inside of his leg. I apply enough pressure as I move it slowly up his leg to cut the fabric of his pants, which also leaves a shallow cut on his skin. It barely produces any blood.

Watching my movements, I am captivated. Going past his knee and up his thigh, I stop as I reach the pelvis area. Hovering the blade over his manhood, I outline a figure-eight pattern over it, skimming the thin fabric.

His hips try to shimmy to get me to stop and his breathing becomes louder. I can hear his brain racing, trying to think of what to say in order to make this stop.

Nothing will work.

His efforts would be futile.

Applying some pressure, his hips buck, “Please don’t.”

Slowly look up, my eyes move across his chest and reach his face, “Would you have stopped if I asked?”

Keeping eye contact, he doesn’t respond. Which speaks louder than words and it is exactly what I expected.

Continuing on, I push the blade into his other leg, this time harder, and he winces. The tip cuts through the fabric and this time as I move down, blood trickles alongside. I know there is a major artery in the thigh. I hope I have hit it, but I have my doubts as blood isn’t pouring out like I feel it would if I had. Which is fine, as it gives me more time to play.

As I finish with this leg, the tip of my blade is stained crimson red, and satisfaction washes over me instead of the remorse I thought I would be feeling right now.

Stepping out from between the two people holding his legs, I move around to the other side of the table.

Do I end this quickly or prolong his anguish?

Reaching the top of his head, I notice his hair is damp from where Elijah hit him with the bat, it’s blood. I smile with pride. He is getting exactly what he deserves.

Gripping the handle of my dagger with both hands, I lift it over my head, keeping my eyes on the spot where I want it to go. Taking a deep breath in, as I exhale my arms lower with all my force behind them. As it pierces through his chest and stabs into his beating heart, it appears effortless as I watch myself, my hands wrapped around the handle. Pulling the blade out, I don’t waste time slamming it back in, one after another, repeatedly.

Hearing the slice of the blade into his skin each time is calming. I feel so fucking alive.

Blood splatters from each stab decorate my face and white dress. It doesn’t stop me, I keep going back for more. Relief and satisfaction wash over me.

A light touch graces my shoulder, breaking me from my spell. I immediately let go of the dagger, the handle is sticking out of his chest. Looking down, blood is coming from his nose and mouth. I completely blocked everything out after the first stab.

If he screamed, I didn’t hear it.

If someone told me to stop or that this was enough, I have no idea.

“You did so good, little bat. I am so fucking proud of you.” E whispers in my ear as his arm wraps around my chest, pulling me closer to him, my back against his chest.

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “I am going to thoroughly fuck you later, our neighbors will hear your screams as I pound into your pussy and make you choke on my cock. When I am inside of you, I will go so deep you will feel me ramming against your cervix and you’ll bruise.”

As E makes his promises, he grinds against me, his hard cock brushing against my ass.

Raising my hand, I rub his face which is still resting on my shoulder. “Promise?” I tease.

He chuckles, letting me go and stepping back. His fingers trace the back of my thigh below my dress hem. He whispers back, his breath caressing the back of my neck, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Chills run up my spine in excitement, and my pussy is wet with desire as he continues to trace along my skin.

Although the moment is broken as fast as it started.

Loud whispers come from the room. Elijah breaks his contact with me, stepping towards them, “You’re all lucky you are in masks right now. If I knew who else was in the room while she was being cleansed, being fucking touched by him and then held down so his friends could get a taste, you would be joining him.”

He looks back at me, smiling as he continues to speak, his tone is chilling, “You are all as fucked as he is if I ever find out who they were.” Turning his head, he faces the crowd again, “If anyone is friends with the devil, it’s me.”