Page 8 of Sin of the Saints

“Belle?” I whisper, scanning the room. Not a sound, no response. Just darkness and emptiness.

It’s ridiculous. If Lilith has awoken, Belle is gone. So how could her presence be stronger than ever? I close my eyes and cover my face with my other hand. I’m committing the sin of lust in the very heart of the holiest of holies. The Pope was very clear in his last speech, he left no room for doubt. We mustn’t break the most severe taboo. And yet the last thing I feel is shame or remorse.

The truth is it’s not lust I fear; what puts me in more danger than anything else is love. My love for Belle might drag me straight to Hell. And she’ll burn me, consume me, reduce me to ashes.

And when she’s done with me, she might burn the whole world too.

Chapter Five

Bellcolor

I’m locked in the room that used to belong to Lilith, just as she was locked inside three hundred years ago. My neck is bound by the metal collar, and I can’t make any sudden movements or the clapper will hit the goddamn bell. I want to rip the damned bell off me. To block the clapper so it doesn’t touch the outside of the bell, but every time I touch it, it burns me. Of course it doesn’t leave a mark on me, thanks to the blessing-curse of my invulnerability, but it still hurts like hell.

I pace across the room because I can’t find a comfortable position to lie down. These wings are foreign to me, and they hurt. I stand in front of the elliptical mirror, unable to calmly look at the figure returning my frightened gaze. The wings are large, spanning the length of my body. Black feathers gleam in the light they reflect. Black as the color of my eyes, my hair. Maybe my soul too. I rip off the torn and faded black dress, revealing my smooth, perfect skin, glowing with a foreboding crimson light. My hair rests on my full breasts, my nipples are stiff and needy as I examine my reflection. I caress myself. Myhands are hot, burning, all of me is fire and flame. All of me is sexuality and desire.

And I’m burning. Burning with need, burning from within. My head rolls back in a sharp movement as my hand reaches between my legs, and…ding.

Son of a bitch!I curse as the bell strikes. I snatch the dress off the floor and cover the mirror. My reflection managed to fool even me. My body is too powerful, even for me.

I head to the bathroom and open the cold water faucet. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames, and I have to quell the fire threatening to erupt from within me.

I wait for the bath to fill up, and I don’t dare look back at the mirror over the sink.

Come on, come on, faster.I bounce my knees impatiently. When the bath is half-full I get in.

The rush of cold only lasts a split-second, instantly replaced with a feeling of warmth until the water is roiling and boiling around me. I try to turn the cold water valve but it’s stuck. This is as strong as it gets. I put my hands under the cold stream, which all too quickly becomes hot water when it meets my touch.

“What’s going on here?!” I strike the water with my fists and they spill out of the bath.

Ding.

Cramp.

Fuck.

“Is this supposed to be a fucking joke?” “I don’t expect a response.

I pull the plug out, letting the boiling water drain away while the flow of cold water suffers a crushing defeat against my body heat. I wash my hair and clean up as quickly as I can, washing off the filth I’d gathered over three years in the castle dungeons. The water turns murky but I know in my heart there could neverbe enough water and soap to wash away the filthy stains Lilith’s memories have left on my soul, and what I myself did to Bar.

I step out of the bath, not bothering to towel off. My body heat evaporates the wetness, and I shake my wings even though their movement pains me. I open the closet, ripping one evening dress after another off the hangars and throwing them over my back. “Useless trash,” I mumble angrily.

I take the white nightgown and put it on backwards, legs first, since these wings won’t stop getting in my way. Then I snatch a pair of white cotton panties and put them on too. I check the closet for shoes, but they all have heels. Useless evening shoes for useless evening dresses. So frustrating.

I’ve got to find a way out of here. To escape before Libretto finds some way of getting his claws in me. Before he makes my nightmare come true again.

I go to the window and try to open it, but it’s locked. I jostle it in frustration…ding.

“Fuck!” I take one of the dresses I threw on the floor, tear the fabric into a long strip and wind it around my neck. “That should keep you in place.” Great, I’m talking to the damn bell. I confidently step over to the chair by the vanity, lifting it and throwing it at the window. The chair shatters on impact but the window is untouched. I approach the window, punching it and screaming as my hand meets the glass. I shake my hand, hoping it will soothe the pain. “Damn it!” It’s reinforced glass and I’m too weak. The collar around my neck keeps me that way. Weak. Just how Libretto wants me. Maybe he’s managed to lock up my powers, but he’ll never break my spirit.

“Lilith, please remove the scarf immediately.” A voice intrudes into my room and I press my back against the wall, seeking its source. “I won’t ask you again, Lilith.” The voice sneaks in again and I raise my gaze to a speaker hanging in the corner of the ceiling, next to a camera. Furious, I make fists ofmy hands, running to the camera with the intent of tearing it out of its socket, but as soon as I approach it an electric shock hits me and my whole body rocks, dropping me to the ground. “I said take off the scarf, Lilith.” It’s Greta or Beatrice. One of the two wretched sisters just electrocuted me.

“Fuck!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

I feel another shock, weaker, meant to warn me this time, and I give in, removing the strip of the dress I’d wound around my neck. A piece of fabric gets stuck in the bell, and it rings. I cramp up again and start laughing. It’s an insane laugh, savage and barbaric, that quickly fades into whines of frustration. I cover my face in my hands and stretch my skin, feeling like I’ll go mad at any moment. “Alright,” I finally declare after taking a long breath. “If that’s how you want to play, I accept the challenge!” I yell at the camera, still sprawled on the ground. “But I’m warning you, anyone who approaches me will taste my full wrath!”

“No problem, Bellcolor, you’ll learn soon enough that I’m quite fond of games,” Libretto answers on the speaker, and my stomach churns at the sound of the satisfaction in his voice.

I wave my new wings, trying to get used to the pain they cause the tendons in my back. Every time I flap them too hard, the bell rings and I have to stop until the pain fades.

---