Page 53 of Judas

Mother.

I say, make her cry.

The dark one adds.

“Would you two be quiet? This is going to be a bonding experience and it’s only done correctly when covered in blood.”

Rapping my left-middle knuckle on her door, I push it open and step inside. She’s curled up on the nearly-bare mattress, remnants of an abandoned child’s bed. Fitting, since she’s such a damn baby about things.

“Awe, how sweet. She cried herself to sleep.”

I laugh mutely at myself, observing the slight rise and fall of her chest and how relaxed the rest of her body is. She still has on the same damn clothes and that’s just as irritating as anything else. We’re going to have to fix that problem, starting now.

Lifting the pot, I tilt it and begin pouring the still-warm blood all over my pretty little niece. That laugh I was muting just moments ago is now loud and unapologetic. It feels so good to laugh this deeply, especially at the flailing young girl in a full blown panic. Dropping the vessel, some of the blood splashes on my jeans and across the floor before it is done clattering on the hard surface. I brace my hands on my waist, impressed with my little prank.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Sadie shouts, her hands frantically trying to wipe the blood away from her face and off her skin. Resistance is futile, though, all she’s doing is smearing it in like a macabre lotion.

“You don’t have the prerequisites for my list of ailments, young lady.”

“Jesus Christ, you derange—“

I stop her before she can finish her sentence—not because there’s an insult at the end of it, but, you know, she spoke ill of our creator. My hand slaps over her mouth and now I’m pinning her to the crimson drenched bed. The strength in my hold pushes her head hard into the pillow beneath her. Platinum strands turn pink from the quick way they absorb the blood.

“What did I tell you? Need I punish you for your transgressions, Sadie? I have a myriad of ways I can do that, or do you want to earn your forgiveness for having such a foul fucking mouth?”

Snapping my free hand out, I grab hold of one of her thin wrists to stop the motion of her frantically wiping away the blood. There’s a long pause as I stare at the contrast of red to pale skin. Against my better judgement, I direct her to startmassaging it in once more. Sadie is hesitant at first, but she complies. I hook a finger under the hem of her shirt and slide it up, exposing the sunken curve of her torso where blood pools in her pierced belly button. My upper lip hooks in revulsion at the silver bar there, remembering how Nadia was pierced too, damaging the temples of their bodies. She will answer for that, just not to me.

Keeping her pinned to the bed by her face, my other hand releases her wrist, giving her better range of motion to continue slathering the gore across her body. Over and over, until there is nothing but a thin bright scarlet layer beginning to congeal and dry. I’m nearly blind to the way she’s drifted out of her terrified and angry state, now in one of reverence. Slow strokes sliding up and down her stomach, along the sides of her waist where she’s the narrowest, then over the flare of her hips.

Absolute perfection.

“Don’t stop, Sadie,” I demand, my tone not quite as sharp.

Releasing her mouth and taking a step back, my head tilts to the side, scrutinizing how she moves the gore higher under her shirt before grazing her thin hands down until she can’t reach any further on her thighs.

The adrenaline is back now. It’s suffocating, introducing a need I can’t seem to wrap my head around. Needing to see the way the blood makes her feel, I flick my eyes up to hers and they’re black. Deep pools of obsidian staring through me just as she lifts her knees up, bringing the heels of her filthy feet to the bottom of her behind, continuing to paint her legs and now her dirty toes with someone else’s life force.

“Who are you?” I ask, knowing Sadie is nowhere to be seen.

“Nosey boy, that is not your business.” Her voice is a bit raspier, sultry even. Like she lives a life of luxury and has no need to hurry her words.

“Answer the question. I have a gift for her, and need her complaint. Can’t do that if you’re in control.”

“Is there more blood? If so, I’ll let you have her, right after I get to play in it.”

This one— she’s like me. Me as in Lucien, not the darker one, not Mother. Me. My brand of fucked up and depraved. Good heavens, what did Nadia bring into the world?

“Name, please.” Using my manners, I’m hoping to earn a sweet prize.

“Liz Bathory.”

“As in, the Blood Countess?”

“Mmmhm, good boy.”

Her hands dip below the waistband of Sadie’s shorts, but swiftly, I knock them away. Scowling down at the woman. I’ll be damned if I allow her to touch my niece in an inappropriate manner. Not letting her get ahead of herself, I then pull Sadie’s body up from the bed by fisting her stained shirt. She leans into me—Liz that is—rubbing against me, transferring the blood off Sadie’s form onto mine, and it’s taking every ounce of self control not to throw her down on the floor and put her out of her misery.

Possessions are a deviation from the path of God and I’m nowhere equipped to end it. So, I’ll make do, and harness her evil.

---