Page 7 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

I should have been frightened. Instead, I was thunderstruck with the realization that all I felt was pity for this creature. This man called Thomas was a product of the devil, surely. But...maybe he wasn’t beyond redemption if he was able to mourn a child of God.

Every breath behind me caught at once as I raised my hand with caution to brush the man’s stubbled cheek. I was petting a feral wolf, and I’d lose a limb if I wasn’t careful. No, I was touching something far more dangerous than a wolf. And if this beast bit, I’d likely lose more than a hand.

“I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.”

I wasn’t one for reciting scripture—at least not nearly as incessantly as the other monks. However, one made exceptions when staring a blood-slathered minion of Satan dead in the eye.

The demon appeared awestruck by my gesture. His dark lashes fluttered when my fingers brushed the sharp curve of his jaw. On the next thud of my heart, his sinister grin crept back onto his roguish mien. “Redemption? For a moment there, I thought you might be more intelligent than the sheep behind you, Priest. But no, not if you think there is hope of redemption for a creature like me.”

A surge of renewed strength wound through me, fueled by my determination to subdue the demon with kindness and reason. The tension in the air was more smothering than the hand around my throat as my brothers and sisters hung behind me, watching me attempt to tame the devil on our doorstep. “I believe any creature with a soul possesses the ability to earn their place in the Kingdom of Heaven, Thomas.”

The demon released a low, gravelly chuckle. “My mate believed the same thing. She was so convinced I had a soul. She was like you, you know. Her unwavering faith in your God was admirable. Endearing, even. It was for that reason that I never turned her.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by “turned” her. Turned her toward Satan, maybe? That made the most sense, but I didn’t dare question him. I only gave as much of a nod as I could in the confines of his grip, urging him to continue.

“Had I made her like me, she would have sensed your Helsing enter our den.” Keeping his grasp firmly on my throat, he kicked the bloodied sack at his feet. “She would have been able to protect herself while I was away hunting.”

“H–Helsing?” I had never heard of the word. I dropped my attention to the potato sack, and would have gasped if I had the air. Poking from the coarse cloth was a shred of black silk. Even soaked in blood, I recognized it as the abbot’s riding cape. I was glad no one else seemed to solve the mystery of who was in the sack. I was sure this wolfish stranger could scent fear, and their panic might destroy my chance of calming the brewing storm. “W–we are but humble servants of the Lord. P–please. Spare us. We have no quarrel with you.”

I tried to drop my hand from the demon’s cheek, but he caught my wrist and held it to his face. He leaned his head into my palm, his leering grin peeking through my fingers. “Ah, sweet priest. I quarrel with your whole kind, see? I find you mortals have an inherent love affair with your self-righteousness, even though you’ve barely evolved past your knuckle-dragging, shit-throwing ancestors. You think you are the superior predator, but you see...that’s me.” His voice dropped to a slithering whisper that made the hair on my arms stand.

He turned his head to kiss my index finger. I tried to pull away, but his hold on my neck only tightened, robbing me of my last ability to speak. Falling limp against the gate, I was powerless to do anything but watch the demon take me into his mouth.

I silently winced when he nipped my flesh, and to my horror, suckled on my finger like a calf taking its mother’s milk. My eyes widened, and my pulse lurched into a gallop.

He was drinking my blood.

Everyone had been quiet before, knowing we were in the eye of the storm. Now, they were understanding the full scale of the dark force that darkened our doorstep. This man, who wore the skin of a lion, was now feasting on my blood like I was nothing more than food. We were all his food.

He’d come here for a meal.

They grasped that fact now, as they all pushed and shoved at one another, trying to flee. In the chaos, I hadn’t noticed Elijah slip away until he was back at my side with something in his hands. I wasn’t sure what it was since I couldn’t turn my head to look. Then he threw it, and water splashed on the demon’s face.

“Begone, Satan!” Elijah screamed. My apprentice pulled me away from the gate as soon as the demon dropped his guard in surprise.

I rubbed my throat and gulped for air as the demon composed himself. Another unsettling smile flitted to his mouth, and his chin dripped with blood and water. A split tongue, like that of a serpent, slipped from between his lips to taste the water. He snickered at my apprentice with murder in his eyes. “Holy water? Did you think that would work? Unless you have the sun in your pocket, boy, you’re not likely to best me.”

The demon stooped for the sack and extracted the abbot’s head, holding it high for everyone to see. At the sight of our fallen leader—or a part of him—you’d think the chorus of screams and the frantic prayers for God’s salvation were a bard’s tune from the way the demon grinned in pleasure. “Let’s play a game, shall we? Who is going to be the first to receive my gift?”

He hurled the head over the gate, and the crowd scrambled to get away as their leader’s skull fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The demon moved so fast: One minute, he was on the road, and the next, he was within our walls, standing over the decapitated head. He crouched, taking a finger and positioning it within the abbot’s line of sight. “Who’s the lucky one, Lockheart? Who’s caught your eye?” The demon lifted his crimson leer to a monk I knew well—one of my scribes.

“Looks like you’re the chosen one,” the demon cackled, thrusting to his feet and making his way to the monk.

“No!” I stumbled forward, but the monster was behind the scribe in a blink, his claws pointed at the man’s throat. I stilled, and all the blood drained from my face. “Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt any of them.”

“Hmph.” It was as if the naked demon found me amusing, with how his bloody eyes sparkled. “As much as I delight in watching an attractive mortal beg, I cannot indulge your request, Priest. But, since you remind me of my mate, I will grant you a bit of mercy in her memory.”

My hope surged. Perhaps all the prayers of my brothers and sisters were reaching the ear of Our Lord. Maybe we were saved after all. “Mercy?”

“Yes. I will give them all the opportunity to bow to me, to kneel before me as their savior. If they do, I will indeed save them from the fate I’m capable of dealing.”

My heart plummeted to my stomach.

“Oh, look at that.” The demon named Thomas smiled softly. “Finally, there’s fear in your eyes, Priest. I think you’re catching on to the fact that I’m about to tear the entirety of your paltry world to shreds.” He spun to face the crowd, raising his voice as he addressed them. “On your knees, ladies and gentleman! Renounce your God by kneeling before me. Your precious Savior doesn’t care for you. For if he did, would he allow me to do this?”

A scream caught in my chest as I watched the demon knot his fist in the monk’s hair and slowly rip his head off. The sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh, coupled with the look of horror and agony on the scribe’s face, was enough to make me vomit right there, yet I couldn’t move. I couldn’t so much as twitch. The demon stared right into me as if he held me under a dark spell with his eyes alone, forcing me to look.

When the light left the scribe’s eyes, and the demon dropped the head to join the abbot’s at his feet, I felt myself being released from the sorcery holding me. Even so, I couldn’t move as I took in this Hell-fueled nightmare.

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