Page 4 of Unholy

“What kind of Demon are you?” I ask, perplexed.

“Worried because your little magic trick didn’t work as you had hoped?” he asks, eyes still lazy but the smirk firmly in place. I don't answer, my mouth gaping open in shock. “Maybe you’re having too many impure thoughts.”

“Excuse me?”

“Impure. Sinful. Depraved. Wicked.Unholy .” The demon lists, seemingly bored.

“I am not,” I scoff.

“Then why are you hard?” His eyes flicker down to my groin. What? I look down, too, seeing the outline of my own shaft straining against my black pants. I can feel the tight coil of pleasure behind my belly button. My balls ache.How did I ignore that?It’s been so long. Sure, I had urges since joining the priesthood, but I have been able to push those thoughts to the side and replace them with God.

“What kind of demon are you? Some kind of demon of perversion?” I ask again, trying to change the subject. Desperately willing my erection togo down. I don't have power over this. It’s the demon’s power that is making this happen. It’s gotta be.

“You keep reaching that hard for an excuse, you may touch God,” the demon chuckles darkly, and I have the sudden urge to hurt him. I’ve never met a demon so infuriating, and I have exorcised many. I take a deep breath. Then another. The demon is clearly trying to bait me, and I’m just playing into his game.

Heavenly Father, please give me the strength to defeat this monster.

I look up to the ceiling but don't feel God’s presence all around me like I normally do. I feel nothing but the demon’s presence beside me and my cock throbbing for touch. Has God abandoned me because of my impure thoughts? No. My God would never do that. He is forgiving. He has forgiven me once for those types of thoughts. Saved me from them. He can do it again. I have Faith.

“Asmodeus.” The name is released from my mouth like a prayer. That gets the demon’s attention. His eyes snap up to mine, the green replaced by black.

“My given name is Killian.”

“No. That’s the name of the poor boy you possessed.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust. I should have known.” I am disappointed in myself for taking this long to figure it out. This demon has been nothing but sexual since the moment I walked in the door. He probably has some sort of special power that tempts. It’s no wonder my body is affected in such a disgusting way.

“You know nothing.” The demon’s beautiful red lips curve into a smirk, and I almost believe him. Almost believes that he’s hiding something important from me.

“I know that you’re tied up and there is nothing you can do to stop me from expelling you from your mortal host.” My gaze rakes up and down Killian’s body, watching his chest and stomach expand with each breath he takes.

“You think these ropes can hold me?” he asks, and I don't answer. Perhaps I should have doused them in holy water for good measure. “This is all one big kinky game to me, Father.”

“One that I will win once I finish my duties here.” I level my chin with the ground, standingtall. I look down my nose at the demon, making it clear that he is beneath me in every way. He will be forced back to Hell where it belongs, and I will eventually take my spot in Heaven, alongside Jesus.

“I like a confident man.” He smiles, red lips stretched across white teeth. It shouldn’t be as pretty as it is. This thing is everything unholy. It’s everything tempting. It’s everything I was warned about. “Even if that confidence is misplaced,” he adds.

I say nothing. Just turn around to look at my array of items. I grab the Bible and holy water. I open my Bible to a bookmarked passage and begin reading in Latin. I don't always use Latin for these types of duties, but this demon seems like it’s not going to give in easily.

“And he knows Latin. Are you trying to turn me on again? ‘Cause it’s working, Father.” The demon’s voice is slow and sultry, and my words pause. He looks at me curiously, as if I am a puzzle that is missing a few key pieces for the image to come together. And the demon is about to force those pieces into place any minute now.

“Are you scared?” I ask.

“Scared of a few words in a dead language and some spicy water?” he asks, eyes devouring my body like the disciples devoured the food at the last supper. I swallow, trying to even out my breathing.

“Scared of being expelled from Earth. Sent back to the place you belong.”

“Oh… yeah. That’s not going to happen.” The demon stretches, as if bored of this conversation so he’s preparing for a long nap.

“What makes you so confident?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The demon winks, and that's an expression I haven't heard in a long time. Something about it scratches at the back of my memory. I’ve heard it before. In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard it a lot, but I can’t seem to remember where or how. A face suddenly appears in my brain.

Gabriel.

Gabriel was my best friend growing up and he used to say that all the time. He never had a plan. When he would have his newest reckless idea, I would always ask how he plans to execute it, and hewould always respond with the same phrase: We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

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