Page 12 of Unholy

"Fair enough." I inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill up my lungs and the questions about how Levi is feeling after everything float through my brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Levi asks, after we’ve finished the cigarette. His voice breaks me out of my inner monologue about everything so abruptly, I feel like I was snapped back intoreality.

“Of course,” I respond, rolling over to look at Levi.

“How come my holy water didn’t work on you? And the cross didn’t burn you? You seemed so sure that I couldn't rid Killian’s body of you.” Levi looks at me as if he can see me just as clearly as he could in the daylight.

I freeze, not expecting that question and completely unsure of how to answer. Finally, I sigh, laying back down and pulling Levi closer to me. It doesn’t take much effort to get him to follow my lead. He lays his head down on my chest. “Hear that?” I ask.

“Yeah. It’s Killian’s heartbeat,” Levi responds, tilting his ear away from my chest and looking up at me again.

“No. That’smyheartbeat. I was born in this body. I’m not a full demon. My father was Asmodeus.”

“That’s why you reacted to his name, but I couldn't control you with it,” Levi interjects.

“Yeah. Asmodeus had sex with my mother and created me. Ever since I was small, my demon half and my human half have been at war. When I turned 26, I was finally able to burn away myhumanity,” I explain, stroking his hair. I lean down and kiss him softly on the lips. “Well … most of it.”

Chapter three

Father Levi

Myeyespopopen,my lungs inhaling as if being pulled from water. I look around, my eyes adjusting to the dim light now filtering through a window. This isn’t my bedroom. The hard surface I’m currently laying on isn’t my bed. The mystery surface rises and falls, my head following the movement, and in that moment I realize two things: One, the surface is actually a chest. The chest of a demon. Well, half of one. And two, I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

Memories from the night before assault me, playing in a montage like some kind of sinful porno. The way the demon had taunted me. The memory of Gabriel. The prayer. The demon’s big body shuddering as he came untouched. How I fucked the demon with a cross. The way the demon fucked me. The demon’s final confession before he fell into slumber.

I force myself to rise off of the demon’s…Killian’schest. I look down at him, trying to determine if he’s awake. His hand, the one that had been resting my lower back, has now flopped over to the side, completely still… not even a twitch. I watch him a little while longer, determining that he is, in fact, still asleep.

I need to get out of here. I need to go back to my church and pray for God to forgive me. I pause, though. Killian had said something about God not being able to see. If God didn’t see my misdeeds, then does He trulyneedto know of it? I shake my head. No. I cannot allow that line of thinking. God is all knowing. He definitely saw, and I need to confess and beg for His forgiveness.

After I carefully get out of the bed, completely removing myself from Killian, I assess my body. I’m sore. Every muscle screams for me to lay back down and curl into the comfort the demon had offered. I deny the urge. Everything feels intact.

Except for my virtue and my vows.

I quietly put my clothes back on, my guilt increasing with each new item I don. My collar is last. I hold it in my hand, debating about placing it around my neck. My hand ghosts over theplace where it usually sits, finding my skin sore from the demon’s big hand when it had wrapped around my neck. I can still feel his hot come as it landed on my neck, right where the collar sits, branding me forever. I crush the collar in my hand, shoving it into my pocket as I blink back the tears that sting my eyes.

Needing a distraction, I look around for the rest of my possessions. I spot the cross first. The one that I had shoved so deep inside the demon, I don't know how it didn’t cause internal damage. Then I find the holy oils, the ones that we had used as… lubricant.Tainted. It’s all tainted.Iam tainted. Will I ever be clean?

Yes. Clean. I need to be clean again. I need to be washed in God’s grace and glory. I need to wash away this abomination. Need to rid my skin and my soul of these acts. God's forgiveness will clean me. Clean. I need to be clean.

With that thought in mind, I only gather my Bible, deciding to leave the tainted items with the tainted demon. The Bible, though, that’s not tainted. Nothing could taint God’s word. Nothing.

I look at the demon’s sleeping form one last time. His chest still rises and falls with even breaths. I have the strange urge to plunge a dagger into that chest. It’s the only way to be rid of it. But then a second, almost as prominent urge tells me I need to kiss that chest, trace the lines of the tattoos with my lips again. I shake my head.

I need to get out of this room. Whatever spell the demon had put on me the night before is obviously still at play. Leaving will be what breaks it. I force my gaze away from the naked demon and twist the knob. I silently thank God that it turned. He must still be watching over me after all. I step over the threshold away from the demon. For good.

I thought I would feel different outside of the room. Like the spell would be broken once the door was clicked shut. I thought I might be able to breathe again, as if the blanket of darkness that had draped itself over me would have been lifted. But no. That didn’t happen. Nothing feels any different. Further. I need to get further away.

I leave the house, breathing in the fresh morning air. Normally, I appreciate the sunrise, the beauty of God’s creation, but today it just feelswrong. It is just as beautiful as ever, maybe even moreso, and that angers me. It’s supposed to be different. It’s supposed to be dark and tainted just like me. The sun was never even supposed to rise. But no, the sun rose as if nothing happened.

The closer I get to home, to my church, the more my body shakes. I don't know how to preoccupy my mind. I typically don't listen to music, preferring podcasts of sermons, but something about listening to a sermon after what I just did feels wrong. As if I’m not deserving of the sermons my peers offer.

I can’t seem to stop my mind from flashing back to the night before. The demon. The way his body moved as he came. The seductive growl of his voice when he was “praying”. The smell of his pale, sweat-coated skin, tattooed and stretching perfectly over enticingly taut muscles. The taste of his lips as he whispered filth into my waiting mouth. The feel of his hard cock penetrating me so deep, God hasn’t even been there.

I am so distracted by the memories, I almost miss the turn off to my driveway. Once out of the car, I look at my church. It’s not as large or extravagant as some of the others in the area,but it’s something I’m proud of. It stands tall and firm, the morning sun rising behind it, reflecting off the stained-glass windows. The sandy stone walls that were once a safe haven to me now give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I pull my gaze away, undeserving to even look at the holy place. I move toward the side entrance; my apartment is attached to the church, but not a part of it. That’s how I’m currently feeling. Attached to the church, but no longer a part of it. That must change.

“Clean.I must get clean,” I murmur over and over to myself, repeating it like a mantra. “If I’m clean, then I will be close to Him once more.”

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