Page 46 of Muerte

Nicolette chimed in, her tone holding a touch of impishness.

"We worship a different kind of entity, one that isn't bound by notions of mercy or empathy and exists in the flesh.”

“Can you explain that in a way I would understand?”

“Diabolus is our Carnalis Dominus. He embodies a darkness that empowers him to lead without hesitation or restraint.”

That was more confusing than the last explanation. All I understood was that they worshipped a man with a skewed moral compass. Of course, that’s who kidnapped me, of all people.

They continued to explain portions of the doctrine and I listened intently, their words painting a vivid picture of a belief system that greatly diverged from the conventional. It was a world where power and dominance reigned supreme. Men were deemed superior in many aspects, but there was an inherent acknowledgment that they couldn’t thrive, or even exist, without their cherished women.

The duality showcased a balance between dominance and reverence. Their religion was one where the most depraved of sins were celebrated and the pursuit of carnal pleasure was paramount. It was overwhelming to comprehend, yet disturbingly fascinating.

As they continued turning the pages, the text revealed convoluted rituals, complex ceremonies, and stories that showcased the triumphs and struggles of their faith. It was all such a stark contrast to everything I had ever known, challenging the very foundation of my beliefs and morality. I wanted to rebuke and object to what they were teaching, but a part of me was deeply intrigued by all of this.

"And the Rite I experienced?" I questioned, remembering the intense night before and the brand now on my shoulder.

"That was a transitional ceremony," Esther explained gently. “It marks the journey from being an initiate to becoming a more integral part of our community.”

“Is everyone branded?”

“No,” Nicolette answered, shaking her head. “That only happens to women who have been chosen as a man’s Electi.”

“Have you gone through it?”

Her expression immediately shuttered. She was quick to cover it with a light laugh and slight smile.

“I have a brand, but it’s not quite the same. Mine marks me as a member of the Ilse and Impío, whereas yours is considered an honor, since you’re wearing the emblem of your family on your body. I won’t receive one of that degree until I’ve taken the vows that bind me to my master.”

That sounded so hollow and rehearsed, the word master still grating on my nerves. I felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Esther cleared her throat softly and continued with her explanation. “The ceremony cemented your place as Diabolus' mistress. The final ceremony will occur when he makes you his Sponsa Diaboli. His bride.”

“Wait, wait. Do you mean bride as in white dress with church bells ringing?”

They shared a look, and I could tell they were holding back laughter for my benefit.

“Well. You’ll wear a dress, but it won’t be white,” Nicolette mused.

“And the bells that ring will be from a chapel,” Esther added playfully. “Ah, I’m so excited! I can’t believe you’re finally here.”

I loathed I couldn’t despise her for being so joyful. Esther radiated a kind of happiness that was hard to hate or ignore, but it couldn’t overshadow how insane this all was. My place in their society had been decided for me against my will, long before I had ever met any of them or knew of their existence. It was a narrative I hadn’t chosen and seemed to be unfolding with dizzying speed.

I’d never been anyone’s mistress. I’d barely dated. Yet I was expected to marry my captor, a man I barely knew and who was esteemed as the devil. And I couldn’t forget the part where I carried his tiny Diabolus heirs.

Nicolette picked up where Esther had left off before I interrupted, her tone gentle and not at all mocking. "His previous bride gives her blessing during your transition from mistress to wife.”

That summoned my full attention. It was the first time her existence had been fully acknowledged. It left me feeling strangely unsettled. Alexander had never mentioned any specifics about the woman he’d married. There was no hint or trace of her anywhere in the house.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being kept in the dark about something significant.

"Where is she?" I blurted out before I could stop myself, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Esther looked at me and for a second, I didn’t think she was going to answer. “She is being housed until your wedding. Her presence is a testament to the honor and legacy of Diabolus, a final bridge between his past and present.”

I frowned, my mind whirling with questions. What was her story? Why was she no longer his wife? Something must have happened for her to lose her place in his life. I didn’t get the impression he was a promiscuous man that would randomly wed just anyone. Myself a case in point.

“What about the other branded women?” I questioned, wondering what their fates were to be.

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