Page 25 of Unholy

Killian’s hair is longer now, black locks reaching just past his shoulders. His lip is split open with other cuts, bruises, and dried blood marring his beautiful face. His skin is tan and peeling, as if he has been sunbathing, but his skin got a little too burnt. His hands are dirty, as if he has been doing some kind of back breaking labor.

He wears a black button up shirt and a pair of black pants that look like they’ve seen better days. Something about his body and stance is wary. He’s not as cocky and I remember him being. He’s not wearing his signature smirk or making crude comments. I glance over his body once more, trying to decide what he’s hiding. I wonder if the rest of his body is as rough looking as his face.

What happened to him?

“Then I’m hallucinating,” I say, looking at him, barely resisting the urge to go to him and touch this marred face. “Oh my god, it makes perfect sense. You’re a figment of my imagination. I’m so sleep deprived, my brain has figured out other ways to trick me. You’re right. You aren’t a dream, but you aren’t real either. I just need to get more sleep.”

“That’s not…” Killian starts.

I choose to ignore him.Ignore him, and he will go away.If I don't feed into this hallucination, it will just vanish. Yes. That makes perfect sense.

I turn my back on the vision, going to the bathroom. I turn on the water, pumping soap onto my hands and then placing them under the stream. The cuts sting, but I hold in my hiss of pain. Killian wraps his arms around me. My body stiffens because I can feel his hard body pressed against my own.Can my mind do that?

I decide to ignore it. The mind is a powerful thing, after all. I rub my hands together. Killian’s big hands trail down my arms, sending shivers down my spine. Eventually, they join mine under the water, his palms warm against the back of my hands. One of his hands rests on each of my own.

The water is tinged red with my blood and brown with the dirt that covers his hands. I find myself wondering why his hands were so dirty. Why his nails are ruined, as if he had been clawing at something. Then I remind myself that he’s not real and the reason why his hands are dirty aren’t real either. We finish washing our hands the dry them.

I do my best to keep ignoring him, even though the vision is insistent and keeps trying to touch me. I turn on my heel and head to the altar where I had left the bread. I have preparations to do, and I can’t spend all morning talking to an imaginary demon.

“Levi… don’t you have a lot of questions for me?” Killian asks, following me. I blatantly ignore him, bending behind the altar to lift the cloth. I reach onto the shelf under the altar, pulling out a large tray with small glasses and small plates. I place the tray on the altar, turning my attention to the bread I had baked.

“I’m not a hallucination,” Killian says, standing directly in front of the altar so that he’s directly in my eye line. I refuse to even look at him. Instead, I take the knife, wincing as I grip it with my damaged hand. I ignore the pain and carefully slice the bread into small, even pieces.

“Look at me.” I feel fingers touch my skin followed by pressure on my chin. I don't give up, just firmly look down, continuing my ritual.

The hallucination continues to try to communicate with me, touching me and speaking, but I steadfastly ignore it. Now that I’ve finished evenlydistributing the freshly baked bread, I turn my attention to the wine. Normally I would use wine from a large jug, but today I bought some nice wine special for the occasion.

“I’m real,” Killian says, and out of my peripheral vision, I watch around the altar. I use a corkscrew to open the wine with an audible pop, then I pick up a glass with a shaking hand, intent on ignoring the demon and pouring the wine.

“You can feel my touch.” Killian’s hand circles under the top layer of my robes, fingers dancing over my hip bone, settling under my belly button. I hiss a breath, forcing my hand to stay steady as I pour wine.

“You can hear my voice.” Killian’s lips graze over my ear, his voice deep and sultry, making the fine hair on the back of my neck stand to attention. Killian’s free hand snakes onto the altar, grabbing a small piece of bread from one of the plates.

“You can smell my body.” Killian holds the piece of bread up to my nose. I inhale the smell of flour, and a hint of sweetness touching my nostrils.

It’s not real. It’s a hallucination. Not real.

“You can taste my blood.” Killian dips his finger into the chalice of wine I was pouring, thenholds it up to my lips. I can smell the dryness of the wine on his finger. I watch a light red drip trail down Killian’s finger. He presses his finger against my lips, parting them to force me to taste the wine coating his skin.

“I’m real, Father. I have come back for you. I’ve missed you.” Killian’s voice is barely above a whisper as he looks into my eyes with an emotion I have never seen there before. There’s a twinkle of something soft and warm in those eyes. They’re almost different, yet exactly the same. Like when I saw them before, they were just a green field of grass with no stars, but this time, the stars have come to twinkle above the field.

“But… I’ve been dreaming of…” My voice trails off.

“I know… I was there.” Killian smiles, his features soft and almost fond.

“What do you mean you were there? They were just dreams…”

“Yes. In a way, they were, but that was really me in them.” Killian cups my jaw, his hand warm and sure. I barely resist the urge to nuzzle into him. “I visited you. It’s part of the demonic abilities I inherited from my father.”

“What?” I ask, my too tired brain trying to process what Killian is saying. I’m still not convinced that Killian isn’t a hallucination.

“I could never leave you completely,” Killian says softly, free hand coming up to cup the other side of my jaw tenderly.

“Is- Is that why God hasn’t visited me in them?” I ask, finally putting the pieces together. It makes perfect sense and explains everything. God’s silence. His absence.

“What?” Killian dark brows crease in confusion.

“God. He used to visit me in my dreams.” I start, taking a step back from Killian. “We would talk. Sometimes angels would as well. Now, it’s silent.” I take another step back, needing distance. “Is that why he hasn’t visited me? Because of you? Because you’ve been in my dreams?”

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