The Devil's Playthings (17 page)

Nice to be a guinea pig, she thought to herself. “I hope I live,” she remarked.

“That’s a huge improvement,” he quipped. “I hope you live too
, forever
.” She stared at the
contrast between her unblemished skin and the scar. She traced it with her
fingers. And as she watched
the scar disappeared.

He grabbed her hand and studied
it. He moved his finger over the spot where just moments before a puckered scar marred her delicate flesh
. He grabbed her other hand to exami
ne it. The scar was still on that wrist, but gone from the other
.

He laid his head
on hers as he marveled at the scar.
His eyes closed
, trying not to think about it. But she continued to
study
it.
When they arrived at the apartment she was still awake.
But as soon as they entered the apartment, and she made her way to her bedroom, she fell fast asleep in her be
d. Later he climbed
in
to
the bed beside her, and lay
quietly toying with her hair.
His attention went back to her wrist.

The Change

When she awoke she was starving. She thought about how much she’d like a steak with potatoes and
bread as she stood in the shower, and before
she
finished dressing Rosa had arrived with a tray. “Thank you, Rosa,” she squinted at the maid
, “can I have that downstairs in the pool room please?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Rosa bowed and carried the tray back down the stairs. Luc had left the room while she showered, so she quickly finished dressing and followed Rosa.

Luc joined her just as she started to eat. “Eating without me?” he quipped.

“I thought maybe you’d asked Rosa to bring it up to me,” she shrugged. “I wanted a steak and Rosa brought it to me.” In no time Rosa brought the same thing to Luc.

“Do you want to talk about what happened at the ceremony?” As usual he started the conversation.

“
It was magical
,
you turned into a ball of light with wings
” her voice was harsher than she meant it to be. “What is there to talk about?”

“You saw my true form?” His excitement was evident.

“If that is your true from, then yes I saw it,” she nodded.

Her attention turned to her wrists, one scarred and one not. She still wore the bracelets, and the anklets.
“Try to erase the other scar,” he challenged her.

“What?” She had wondered
about it, examined
it. Did she remove the scar with just her thoughts? “No.” She answered him and her own thoughts.

“Try it,” he asked again. “Please.”

“I like it. It’s a reminder of
what transpired between us
.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “What would you like to do this evening? We
can go see a play, go to a gallery
, or whatever you like.”

“Let’s go to a gallery
.” She wasn’t interested in doing much of anything
.
S
he was still trying to recover from the night before. But perhaps the best thing was to get out, do something, and forget it even happened.
She as
sumed an art show would be tame and low key.

She returned to her room and prepared herself for the evening. She wore a beautiful little black dress Rosa helped her pick out, with the gorgeous diamond choker and earrings and a diamond bracelet that matched. Gone were the platinum cuffs, replaced with diamonds. She even wore a feminine diamond anklet.

Rosa pulled her blonde hair into an intricate up do with braids and black ribbons and tendrils framing her face.
What she saw in the mirror stunned her
. The only thing she would change about herself, which she’d wished all her life, was to be taller. She’d hated being short, and petite. She wanted to be elegant like the models
in magazines
.

She wore the black fur
coat, and from the smell
she could tell it was real. For some reason that made it seem softer to her. She made her way to the elevator where he waited. He couldn’t take his
eyes off her. “You are ineffably beautiful
.” And for the first time she believed him. He wor
e a severe tuxedo and a five o’clock shadow
and h
e wore a sophisticated hat, all
of which made him appear more mature.

The art show
featured a struggling
artist whose paintings were abstract works in black and red. She scrutinized one of the paintings as Luc went to the bar to get their drinks.

“Do you like it?” A man asked from behind her. She turned to him, and knew immediately he was the artist. He was a tall, wiry man with long brown hair and beady brown eyes.
And he had a demon following closely after him. It
was small, no bigger than a bird
, but when he stopped at her side the creature landed on his shoulder.

It stared at her boldly, willing her to acknowledge it.
When she didn’t, it moved toward his ear and began to chatter. She could not understand what it said, only that it said the same thing repeatedly.
She could only imagine what was going on inside his brain.

“Yes, I do,” she responded.
And then she realized, immediately what was going on inside his brain. All he could think about was sex; he wanted to shove her against his painting and pull her dress up around her waist and unbutton and unzip his pants just enough to…

“Ahh, you speak Italian, very good,” he smiled. “Not many Americans I have met speak Italian.” She tried not to betray her emotions, something she’d thankful
ly
become very good at. “Tell me what do you like about it?”

“The over-exaggerated anger you express is
only eclipsed by the stark reality of the blood on the canvas.” She turned and stared at him. “It isn’t your own blood. Is it a pig’s blood?” His beady little eyes grew wide with astonishment. “No, it’s a cat. Did you kill your neighbor’s cat to make this painting? It’s very sexy though. After you killed the cat and splattered its blood on the canvas you fantasized about fucking its owner as you masturbated.
She turned you down so you got back at her by killing her cat.
”

His mouth fell open in horror. “Are you offended by what you did, or are you offended because I know?
Don’t worry, like you said, no one
else
here speaks Italian.
It’s our little secret.
”
She couldn’t resist walking toward him and placing her finger over his lips.

He scuttled off like a bug that had just been swatted. She moved to the next painting, and staring at that one she knew what he’d done with the semen after he masturbated.

“I speak Italian,” Luc stated as he snuck up behind her.

“Apparently I do too,” she shrugged and took the glass of wine he offered. “He has been dabbling in
the occult. He was
trying to conjure demons.
And from the looks of it one has found him
.”

They examined more of the paintings, until the negative energy in the room was too much for her to handle. In the car on the way back to the apartment they drove past a club with lots of people waiting outside. She’d never been inside
a real club, and she pouted at
the window. The car turned around and stopped right in front of the club.
She expected it to happen.
She could think something
now
and make it happen. It scared her and excited her at the same time, like everything about Luc.

He
removed the bow tie and open
ed the shirt at the collar. The driver
h
eld the door open for Emma, and as they approached t
he security guard at the door
waved them inside.

The music inside was so loud her heart pumped to the beat of it. Another thing she’d never done; never been in a club and never danced
like these young people did
. As they approached a table the occupants got up and cleared it for them. She couldn’t say she hated being with him.

A waitress came to take their order, and before they got their drinks Luc led her to the dance floor. A hundred inebriated young people dress
ed
in
next to
nothing in a hot bar dancing and sweating made her senses go haywire. She could smell the adrenaline and the testosterone. She could hear their heartbeats and taste their sweat. She could feel their excitement.
W
hen Luc started to move to the beat, his athletic body grinding in the middle of the packed room, everyone else started to gr
ind as well.

Soon it had
nearly melted down into a large orgy, and the desire swept her away. Her body grinded back against him without thought,
her back arched, and her head fell back onto his shoulder. And when his hand moved up her side to barely cup her breasts she lost herself in orgasm. The women in the room started to react the same way, and he realized too late that as she fed off their excitement they also fed off hers. He picked her up and carried her out the door quickly to the waiting car.

She took control before he could. She tore at his shirt until the buttons popp
ed off. Her hands shook
their way from his toned abs to his shoulder. She pushed him back onto the seat
.
H
e did nothing to
resist
her. Her mouth descended, nearly devouring his. And her hands found their way to his trousers. Her legs spread as she freed his pulsing member. She arched her back, lowering her body onto him as her hand held it up.

They made love ferociously, like tigers fighting against each other for dominance.
Until he turned her over on the seat, and mounted her from behind like an animal. She moved back against him, encouraging him, moaning and growling in a primeval way. And when she exploded around him, he did as well.

She fell forward
onto the seat, as if the spell had b
roken.
S
e gasped for breath as if
s
he was drowning. And her
head fell onto the leather seats
.
He fell against her, his face on her shoulder.

They were both exhausted when they re
turned to the apartment. Emma’s body ached from the
raw sexual experience they shared.
He lay in bed beside her, sleeping like a baby, and she
couldn’t stop wondering what he was thinking about
.

Immediately h
er subconscious took over; she could see his dream as it happened. He stood on a precipice, looking down over the ocean. He screamed up at God in the language
older than time
.
“
I surrender,
”
he called out in that language she shouldn’t understand.
“
Make me human and I will never fight you again. I will do your bidding. I will bow down to you.
”

She was right, he had been jealous of humans all along. He wanted to destroy them because he couldn’t be
one of
them.

She wondered why he wanted to destroy Father Peter in particular, and as she concentrated on him she felt his dream. He
gazed at her from the audience, watching
Emma
perform Juliet, and as Romeo took the stage he became Romeo. Was he jealous of Father Peter? Is that why he wanted to destroy him?