The Devil's Playthings (14 page)

Flashes of her life before
him
filled her head, her grandfather’s torture, her drug abuse, her prostituting herself. And then the last evening filled her mind, her agony at her life and her rage at God, and the needle in her vein, and the man standing over her. And then she s
aw the man.

But it wasn’t a human
, it was inhuman. The thing’s skin was ash grey and cracked like the desert. Its eyes glowed red,
its legs were like a bull’s with hoove
s, and its arms were like a dog
’s with claws instead of hands. Two horns came out of the top of its bald head, which made it at least eight feet tall. And it was big, nearly as wide as a car.

Then it unfurled its wings, thin and translucent like a fly, but were shaped like bat wings with claws at the tips and bones separating the partitions. Then it picked her up, and the wings began to flap. The sound was like a thousand bats in a cave. And he stared down at her with those bright red eyes that held so much compassion and longing and care. She’d asked God to take her that night, but God didn’t come to save her, Lucifer did.

She remembered him landing on the roof of the building. It was the jarring sensation she felt before she reached out and felt his skin change. She assumed that was when he changed from the creature to Luc. And she remembered him gently changing her clothes, and laying in the bed beside her. She remembered it all.

Maybe she’d known all along and blocked it out. Or maybe he waited until that moment to reveal himself to her. She doubled over onto the stairs, and before she touched them he was there to catch her. “I’ll never let you fall,” he said in that language she didn’t understand. “I’ll never let you die.”

The door to the basement of the shop opened, and an old woman dropped to her knees at the sight of him. “Master,” she said as she averted her eyes.

“Rise,” he said, and carried Emma inside. The door closed behind them, and her choice was made. She was his.

Three women waited for them in the basement, old witches with taut faces and thin grey hair and light grey eyes, skin pale from not seeing the sun in years. He sat in a large black throne, and they all kneeled to him. “Tomorrow,” he said, and waved them away. “Today is for the Queen.”

He was the audience as they slowly removed her clothes, carried a bucket of water to her and bathed her skin in the same musky, earthy scent of rain and moss and wood that he always smelled of.

“It
is
rain and moss gathered from Stonehenge, the first
temple created for me when I fell to the Earth. I fell to the Earth in that spot,” he informed her. “It is stored in the wood from the first altar.”

The women braided parts of her hair, then pulled it all together in a bun at the nape of her neck. They rubbed her skin with oil. “The olive oil is from Israel,” he told her, “from the true Garden of Gethsemane.” They rubbed it into her skin, then patted it dry with cotton cloth. “Egyptian cotton, the same that
Cleopatra used.” She realized he was not the audience, but the narrator.

The women pulled a green smock over her, a shapeless cotton garment the same color green as the grass. He began to sing the Greensleeves song again.

“The song has been explained many times over the years, but the true Greensleeves was a Wiccan priestess. She wore green, and remained a virgin to keep her body holy for the ceremonies. That is why she pushed him away. And green is the color of nature, the color of the Wiccans.”

The women brought out a long cord, and wrapped it around her neck, between her breasts, around her waist, then tied it in the back. “How many women have done this,” she asked him, staring deep into his bright red eyes, daring him to tell her the truth.

“Many women have taken part in the ceremony,” he shrugged. “Many women have been priestesses. How many have been my que
en?” He shook his head. “None.
You wonder about the women you’ve seen in the paintings before you. I assure you with my blood, none of them were on a pedestal like you.
”

He pulled out a knife and cut his finger, his blood did not drop to the ground, though, the women flew to his side with the soft cotton cloth, catching the few drops that fell before the hole quickly closed.

“The other women, when they discovered who I was all wanted something. They all bartered with me. They all signed a pact. Ann Boleyn wanted to be Queen, I gave her to Henry who grew to despise her for her wicked, scheming ways and had her put to death.

“You, Emma, you are so special,” he said, as he dramatically for the three women to witness, moved from the altar, fell to his knees in front of her and kissed her toes. Seeing this, the women fell to their knees as well.

“You have given me yourself freely, without asking anything in return. You know that I have power and money, and you have asked for none of it. Everyone, every person on this Earth, who says they worship me, ask for something.”

He stood and looked at the women on their knees before him. “What did you ask me for?”

“Eternal life,”
the women replied.

“And they will spend as many years as I give them in service to me,” he stated. “But not you Emma, you give yourself to me freely and without a price.”

He snapped his fingers, and the women returned to preparing her for the ceremony. They brought a moss green velvet cloak with a platinum clasp and wrapped it around her, pulling
the hood
over her face.

She stood silently. E
nveloped in the soft green fabric she felt cocooned from the world. Just as she felt when she was with him.

“Leave us,” Lucifer said, and the women scattered. “Emma, I hope I give you half as much peace as you do me.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him
. She felt more empty than ever.

The next morning she awoke in her room alone. Rosa was full of energy, bouncing into the room and pulling open the curtains, giving her the view of the city down below her. “Do you know what today is,” Emma asked in hushed tones.

“Of course I know what today is,” Rosa said with delight. “Today is the Solstice. I will be attending you today. And then we will all be at the celebration tonight. You will be Queen,” Rosa chattered. “But I knew it all along.” She shuffled around the room, waiting for Emma to get up.

“What did you ask for?” Emma wondered aloud.

“I asked for safe passage to the US,” Rosa said unashamed.
“And now I serve the Master and his Queen.
Now
,
come you need to eat
. I
t will be a long day.”

Emma looked over at her new clock on her table. Nine am it said. She thought of Father Peter fleetingly, then got out of the bed and headed down the stairs to breakfast.
She looked at the tree still filled with presents underneath. What more could he possibly give her, she wondered.

She wanted coffee, she thought, and when she entered the dining room Luc was pouring coffee.
Another box waited by her plate, this one bigger than the others. It was wrapped in silver paper with blue ribbons the color of her eyes. “Open it,” he ordered.

Inside was another black velvet box, thi
s nearly six inches thick and
bigger than the plate it sat beside. She pushed the little silver notch on the front o
f the box, and it sprung open.

Platinum vines of ivy with diamond tips created a circlet that formed an intricate diamond
pattern
at the front, and in the center, surrounded by more ivy, was a diamond the size of a bird’s egg
, the exact blue of her eyes
. “For a Queen,” he said as
he
traced the metal under his tanned fingers.

“Why me?” She murmured.

“
I heard you screaming out to God, begging him to take you,” he reminded h
er. “And when I showed you my e
arth
ly
form you didn’t scream. You didn’t cry out, you didn’t beg me to go. And just before your heart stopped you reached out your hand to me. When I picked you up you fell into my arms like no other before you. Then you closed your eyes, and your head fell against my chest like you knew you were safe with me. Even in that form you knew I wasn’t a monster.”
The lie was easier than telling her the truth: that he’d wanted her forever.

Sh
e mulled the words
over
in her mind as she stared at the crown he’d given her. Was she not afraid of him, or was she just good at hiding it?
After they ate he took her hand and led her to the tree.

“Open them,” he ordered.
She now felt sad and ashamed that he had given her so much and she had given him nothing in return. “You are giving me yourself, that is more than I could dream of.”

The first boxes he handed her were cuffs and a necklace to match the beautiful crown he’d given her, followed by boxes full of jewelry with rubies, pearls, and of course more diamonds. She felt like she sat in the middle of a jewelry store. It was all so beautiful she began to cry.

“Don’t shed a tear, beautiful,” he said as he pulled her into his lap. “Your tears are more precious than diamonds.”
He rocked her like a child, and purred in her ear. “It’s time
for you to
get ready,” he said as he led her to the beautiful sitting room with the windows that overlooked the city
.

He
placed
her
on
the soft couch with all the cushions, and when they were comfortable he called out,
“Enter
.” T
he doo
r
opened and two men and
two women entered the room
, carrying packages of their own. They each came to him, single file, and offered their gifts to him.

“My Master,” they each said. They w
ere each dressed in solid black
. The first, a pretty blonde in her mid 30s offered a box of black candles in varying sizes. When she opened it Emma noticed the candles smelled just like him, musky and earthy, with a hint of flame and ash. He nodded, and the woman began placing the candles around the rooms and lighting them.

The next, a young man in his mid 20s offered incense. A beautiful young black woman with light eyes offered oils and lotions, which Lucifer in turn handed to her. She opened them, and they smelled just like the candles.

The final gifts were presented by an older man who knelt, and offered a black box. Luc took the box and kissed the man on the forehead.

“This is for you,” Luc whispered, and handed her the elegant velvet box. “He is a jeweler, and he wants a beautiful wife like you.” She opened it, and inside found an amazing diamond necklace, the dia
monds had to be at least two carats
each, and it was so short it looked like a necklace for a little girl.

"It's another collar,” he instructed her. Unlike the diamond necklace he’d already given her, this one was smaller but the diamonds were huge.

She looked at the man, and he looked like a normal man in his 50s, maybe a grandfather. He was balding, had a paunch, and his skin was leathery and wrinkled. The poor man looked like he’d never seen a woman naked, like he’d never had any sexual pleasure in his life.

“His wife died two years ago, and he’s been lonely. Do you think we should give him a beautiful wife like you?” He brushed her cheek again. She gasped at the thought of herself making that decision.

“I think we should give him a wife, to make him happy,” she said hesitantly.

“I agree,” he said with a sm
ile and a twinkle in his blood red
. The older man looked up at his Master, also smiling.

“He will die soon, of a heart attack,” he whispered so only Emma could hear him. “And then his children will fight with his new wife over his fortune. I love strife.” He kissed her again, full on her lips
. She felt his passion.
I
t rushed through him and into her, and seemed to fill the whole apartment with a sense of urgency.