14. Niklaus

Chapter fourteen

Niklaus

Early Morning Christmas Day

I sink back onto my heels; my jaw drops as I gaze at my beautiful little reaper, now lifeless and drenched in crimson. I felt that familiar tingle in my skin when I marked her, but it faded as soon as she drew her last breath. How could I let this happen to her? I vowed to protect her, to keep her by my side forever, but I couldn’t fulfill that promise. Yes, I could find her soul in Hell, but it wouldn’t be the same as if she were bound to me. My playfully murderous, candy-loving human is gone— the only human I’ve ever truly felt something for, something deep and real. I never even had the chance to tell her how I felt.

A whisper coils through my mind, a voice unmistakably belonging to one entity in all the realms.

The Devil always provides for his favored children.

What the Hell does that cryptic bullshit mean? Provide me with what, Lucifer—caged at the hands of Lionel Ashcroft and losing my human? Thanks for the gracious offer, but I’d rather impale myself on a thousand spikes and let my imps feast on my flesh.

I know it’s probably foolish to anger the Devil himself, but I’ve never known what feeling happy was like—genuine, unfiltered happiness—until I met Cherise… Sable. Her name is Sable Ashcroft. This can’t be the end of us, we were only just beginning.

“Are you ready to bow to your new master, beast?” Lionel sneers, rising to face me. He lifts the bloodstained knife, watching her blood slowly trickle down to the hilt.

“Step into my playpen and find out,” I growl, my clawed fingers twitching at my sides. All I need is for Lionel to so much as let his pinky toe cross the edge of this sigil, and I’ll tear him to shreds.

Lionel tilts his head, smirking. His stupid, weasel face makes my vision blur with rage. I want to paint the town crimson with his guts. “Luke, the preparations are complete. You may enter,” he calls out.

Three figures draped in a sea of black robes stride into the room. The leader clutches an ancient tome, its binding crumbling with age, a testament to the history it holds. Behind him, the two others chant in low, guttural tones, their voices weaving an infernal language that has been forgotten by mankind for centuries.

“Aww, how cute—the pathetic little humans found an ancient demonic text with spells you can’t even begin to comprehend. And you think you’ll control me with it? Not likely,” I taunt, my demonic laughter echoing through the room as I bare a grin full of razor-sharp teeth, my forked tongue flicking at the air in front of me.

“Isn’t it poetic?” Lionel muses, his voice dripping with contempt. “My deranged daughter was nothing but a burden to this world, and I was furious when I found out she escaped that damned asylum. But when I realized a demon was trailing her, I knew she’d bring you right to me. Life truly is beautiful. Every piece of my plan fell into place,” Lionel continues, his grin widening. “And it was all too easy once I found out The Saint had fallen in love with her wicked soul. How tragically perfect. Now, I have Sable’s blood—the key to your downfall—within reach, and you, trapped and ready to surrender,” Lionel gloats, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“I will never bow to a peasant like you,” I snarl. “I will have your soul, Lionel Ashcroft. Every fucked member of your family is marked, and once I’m free, I’ll find a way to break your contract with Lucifer and devour you all.”

Lionel snickers, a low and vile sound that grates on my nerves. The chants of the cult members grow louder, more frantic, filling the air with an unsettling rhythm. I shift my gaze to Sable, and an unfamiliar emotion floods through me as I stare at her beautiful, lifeless body sprawled on the floor. My heart feels like it’s being incinerated from the inside out by Hellfire, a blaze that will never cease. I want to reduce this entire earth to ash for taking her away from me so soon. I don’t understand why I feel this way; a demon shouldn’t care if a human dies. I can’t comprehend it, but with her, everything is different. It always has been.

I notice her fingers twitch, but it’s so subtle that it could be a trick of my imagination. She’s dead, Niklaus. She isn’t coming back. My eyes widen in shock when they twitch again. I stare, gaping at her still form as the chants around me swell to an incredulous crescendo. My body stiffens, and my head jerks back. I inhale a sharp breath, feeling the ancient magic surge through me like a powerful storm.

Fuck. Maybe they do know what they’re doing.

Sable

Christmas Day: One Year Ago

My entire body goes numb as the pain that consumes every nerve ending fades. Blood shoots from my mouth, the result of the final blow that slams my face into the tile with a loud crack. I’m shaking, clutching my shirt as I writhe on the floor, my breath shallow and ragged. Any desire to get back up and fight slips away—I’m powerless against my abusers. I turn to my side and curl my knees to my chest, instinctively protecting myself in the fetal position. It’s my only defense, but I know how this ends—it’s inevitable. Jack Scryer and Thomas Branson are going to kill me.

“This is what happens to bad girls who wanna fight back!” Jack snarls, his voice dripping with malice. “You had it made here. All you had to do was shut your damn mouth and let us fill your holes with our cocks. You’re nothing! Just a crazy bitch who doesn’t know when to quit. And now, even your own family wants you dead for it.” He spits on my face, the thick mucous sliding down my cheek, adding insult to the torment.

I hear movement near my head and instinctively reach to cover my face with my hands. With a stomach-churning laugh, Branson drops to his knees and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking it cruelly. Scryer flips me onto my back, straddling my body and pinning my arms down at my sides, trapping me beneath his weight.

“Please… stop,” I rasp, the taste of blood thick on my tongue, weighing down my words and making them feel almost useless.

My eyes widen in horror as Scryer brandishes a knife, its cold steel gleaming in the dim light. He trails the tip slowly from the edge of my nose, down my neck, between my breasts, and along my abdomen. Each inch feels like a warning ofwhat’s to come, my pulse racing with dread.

“Stop? We’ve barely just begun, baby.” Jack sneers, lifting the hem of my shirt abruptly, exposing my stomach to the cold air. He drags the knife around my navel, tracing slow, torturous circles. My breath catches in my throat as the blade presses a little harder against my skin, the threat of pain hanging just beneath the surface.

“Such a pretty girl gone to waste,” Jack says with a twisted grin. “I sure will miss playing with you. Say hello to the Devil for us. Your sacrifice will finally fulfill the path you were always meant to walk.” His voice drips with cruel satisfaction; my death is just another step in their sick game.

Listen, Sable.

The whisper sounds like it came from a child, and I strain to focus on it, trying to latch onto anything other than the nightmare unfolding around me. Where is my friend? I can’t leave her all alone in this cruel world filled with people who only want to hurt her. I hope she’s okay. My heart aches with worry, desperate for her safety even as I face my impending doom.

Branson yanks my hair tighter, forcing a yelp of pain from my lips. “Watch him fill you up, baby. This is the last time this pretty body of yours is going to get penetrated. Unless we get bored afterward, your body might still have some use.”

I scream, a desperate, unending cry for help that goes unanswered as the blade slices through my flesh. Murderous laughter fills the room, and Jack drives the knife deeper, sawing and shredding my skin all the way down to my pubic bone. My skin feels like it’s on fire, the pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Warmth pools in my lap, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if I’ve pissed myself, but then I realize it’s my blood seeping out from the fresh wound.

“Yeah, baby, yeah! Scream for us!” Branson shouts in my ear.

LISTEN.

The shredding of my internal organs halts, and the laughter falls silent. The only sounds echoing in this cold, torturous room are my whimpers of pain and the unsettling giggle of a child.

“Who the fuck let a kid in here?” Branson shouts as both the men snap their heads in the direction of the laughter.

The giggling increases in pitch, and I slowly turn my head to look at it, too. I know I will feel death’s sweet embrace soon enough, but that sound is too familiar. My chest rattles when I try to speak, but no words come out. What is my friend doing here?

“Who let you in here, sweet thing? We’re just being silly and playing around here; nothing to be afraid of.” Jack says sweetly as if he wasn’t in the middle of murdering me. But since when can they see my friend? They’ve never been able to see her before.

“You’re gonna regret it,” my innocent friend sing-songs, twirling around in her red and white formal dress.

“What are we gonna regret, sweetheart? We’re just teaching this bad girl a lesson. Are you being a bad girl, too?” Scryer taunts back to a fucking child.

I muster the last ounce of strength I have left and lift my trembling hands to Jack’s, which lingers on the handle of the blade. I sink my nails into his skin, feeling one last rush of defiance. He shifts his attention back to me, a sharp hiss escaping his lips. “You stupid bitch!” he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury. He grips my cheeks in a vice-like hold, forcing my lips to pucker against my will. The overwhelming stench of stale cigarettes and beer wafts into my nostrils as he leans closer, preparing to shout more obscenities at me. But he halts when my friend giggles again, the sound coming out almost distorted, cutting through the tension in the room.

“You’re gonna regret it,” she repeats, shaking her head with a wide smile despite the gap where her two front teeth should be. “Come and catch me!” With that, she spins on her heels and dashes out of the room, knocking every item off the counters and walls, creating a cacophony of crashing sounds behind her.

“We gotta put a stop to that. You’ll probably be dead by the time we get back. Your skin is as white as a ghost, pretty girl. I hope the Devil goes easy on you in Hell,” Branson coos in my ear. Jack releases his punishing grip on my cheeks, and with one last smack, the evil men stand up and chase after my friend.

I lie alone in the empty room, the darkness closing in around me. It becomes harder to keep my eyes open as I breathe slowly, each rattling exhale taking more effort. I succumb to the pain, letting my eyes flutter and close. I can only hope she escaped; she’s too pure for this world.

I hear the door creak open, and I silently plead, dear God, just let me die before they hurt me anymore. I long for the sweet release of death, a chance to find peace in this nightmare.

I feel soft hands on my skin, a phantom touch that lingers over my fatal wound. I gasp as fingers slither up and down the length of the cut, sending shivers through my body. A feminine voice fills the room, whispering so softly that I can barely understand her words. My eyes drift open, my vision blurring as I struggle to focus on the woman kneeling over me. Dressed in white, she rocks back and forth, her head hanging low, lost in the haunting chorus she chants over and over while pressing against my wound.

As her chanting grows louder, my vision begins to clear, and my skin tingles beneath her touch. I strain to understand her words, but they all blend together into a jumbled mess. She presses harder against my skin, and I inhale deeply—gasping for oxygen as if I’m resurfacing after drowning. Strength floods back into my body, and I finally manage to move my limbs. I shoot up into a sitting position, staring in confusion at the woman before me. “Mommy?” I whisper.

She flicks her gaze to me, and the same blue eyes—resembling a summer sky—lock onto mine. Stepping back with a shuddering breath, she cups my cheeks in her bloodstained hands. “He always provides for his favored children,” she whispers, a weak smile spreading across her face as she gently strokes my hair. Tears begin to stream down her pale cheeks, each drop a testament to the relief and sorrow etched into her features.

I reach down to feel my stomach, and to my astonishment, the remnants of the gaping chasm in my flesh are gone. I trace my fingers over the new scar tissue, a shiver surging up my spine. “What does this mean? What did you do, Mommy? I thought you were dead?” A shrill cry lodges in my throat as I bombard the woman I believed to be lost to this world with rapid-fire questions. I saw her dead body in my bedroom—how can this be? I was mere seconds away from passing to the other side, and yet… she saved me.

“In death, you will find your way. But you will not die today; you aren’t ready yet. When the time comes, he will find you and set you down the right path. Listen to yourself. You must let yourself feel. And remember who you are. Search within for the festering death to bloom inside you, and let your rage reign upon your enemies. Death will be your gift, child.” She pulls away from me, and I reach out to touch her, already feeling pangs of loss from her touch.

I shake my head, my hands still outstretched, desperate to pull her closer. Panic takes root in every fiber of my being. “Mommy, what does any of that mean? I don’t understand!” I shriek in utter confusion, my voice filled with desperation. “Why is death my gift? How did you save me? Please!”

My body jerks suddenly as an image of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen flashes in my mind. His long ivory hair sways in the wind, highlighted by exquisite horns atop his head. His eyes, the most stunning shade of red—my favorite color—draw me in as he beckons me closer with claws as black as night. The image jolts away, and I stare at a pair of keys dangling in front of my face. “Who was that man?” I inquire softly, my eyes pleading with my mother.

“Not a man. A demon,” she snaps, still dangling the keys in front of me. I reach for them, and once they rest in my palm, she covers my closed fist with her hands. “Let him guide you. He can be trusted because He wills it so. You must help each other.”

Mom tugs my arms, pulling me into a tight embrace. I open my mouth to ask her again what the hell she’s talking about, but she shushes me gently. I don’t understand any of this. “Death will be your gift. I love you, baby, but I can’t stay. I have to go now, but find me when it’s over. They’re coming back, and you must hurry, Sable. These keys will get you out the back exit—be quick.”

She shoves me out of her arms, and with one last look, my mother nods her head. I take off, sprinting for my escape from the Silent Night Asylum. I never once look back.