Crouched beneath the edge, the pit his hiding place, a thin, nearly fleshless being peered over the rim and studied her. He had yearned, practically begged for death, for freedom from the bodies he inhabited, yet death brought him nothing, and he was cold. Hoping that in this state he could move unobstructed, explore without tether, he forgot what it was like in hell.
The Abbess looked comfortable, old and wrinkly like a well-used bed, and she was perspiring with heat, wonderful, consoling heat. The wounds from the torture he endured by Angelina still raw, vulnerable to the cold and agonizing, he longed for someone like her, a warm, uninjured sanctuary where for a time he could rest from his hell.
He had murdered the real Sisters Mary Benedict and Benedict Augusta and Michael; devoured their hands, faces and feet, the body parts that gave them their identity; and become them. Hoping through them he could find what his master had sent him for, he used them for access, worming his way into positions of trust.
They had been useless to him. Remembering their betrayal, the center of his yellow eyes turned red, and he glared at her. Would this old woman do the same?
He moved just enough to shift his feet beneath him. His body tensed, his long bony fingers gripped the edge of the pit, and he sprung.
Flames on the walls froze in place and all others died. Instantly, the room turned frigid.
Her breath sucked out of her, the Abbess froze, too, as she awaited his attack in terror.
“Damn!” he said, as he touched her, the warmth he sought gone.
Looking for fire, anything that still burned, to warm her, he became aware of something going on outside the room. A vault was opening. That which he was looking for was exposed.
His master was inside him warming and inciting him. The cold melted away, and while his master lured him with promise, he listened. For an instant, he was free from pain.
Evil flourished in a body already ripe with it, and he smiled as he moved away from the Abbess. Ignited by the power the evil brought him, inspired by Satan’s promise of their own version of heaven, the acids within him churned. Friction intensified, and by the powers that controlled him, he exploded in a ball of fire.
excerpt from SATAN'S SCAT, THE DESTINY'S DAMNED TRILOGY - BOOK 2
© Shawna Ryan
Author: DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
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