Page 10 of Lourdes & the Mafia
I want to reach out and strangle her for it but stop myself just before I do. That strange barrier around her prevents me from doing just that.
This woman made me weak, when no other has in a millennium.
And I want to knowwhy.
I wave a hand over her body and shadows envelop us, whisking us from the bar and into another realm entirely.
Lorenzo
Thescreamsofthedamned pound through my eardrums. My teeth grit as another wail cuts across the cackling of red-green flames.
I stare at the soul. Strung up on a wooden pole that’s fire resistant, his flesh burns and melts, dripping down like the wax off a particularly slow-burning candle.
All around me, demons claw through the ground. Dark shadows emerging from cracks in the earth, wielding whips, spikes, and other weapons that they use against equally strung up souls.
And I?
I watch it all with fucking boredom.
The Pit is one of my least favorite places to reside over. Since this is usually Kane’s domain, I don’t actually come in here that often. And when I do, I want to leave immediately.
That might be on the account of burning flesh that stinks up the skies or the wailing whines of the dying.
Like, why are you all even complaining? You fucked up in life and now you’re reaping the consequences. Don’t be a bitch and take your punishment like good little creatures.
I much prefer my domain over at the Land of Lament. While it’s filled with sorrow, the songs there are sung much more beautifully than this… whatever the fuckthisis here.
Screeches and wails.
I sigh, dusting flecks of ash from my clothes, my nose scrunching in disgust.
Gross.
“Lorenzo!”
The voice booms across the sky of The Pit.
“Lorenzo!”
“Oh, thank death.” I’m finally fucking free. “Alright, creatures, demons, and whiney bitches.” The demons stop their torturing long enough to turn and glance at me. Even the souls quiet to groans, waiting on the edge, likely for me to give them a much-needed break. Not a fucking chance. “Keep up the good work, demons! Fuck them up! I amout.”
Choruses of rage, pain, and satisfaction go up simultaneously just as I use my magic to whisk myself away from this shitty place.
My brother’s location is ingrained within my magic enough that I know where to land without even trying. We share a fingerprint of power, so interconnected that we can communicate with one another so easily. Mind to mind, power to power. While we can hear and sense one another, our magic is innately our own. That, at least, we do not have to share.
I land in front of our home. It’s a black castle eroded in metal and stone with peaks and spires that pierce the graying sky like knives. Set atop a valley of bones and high cliffs, demons crawl all over the place, trying to claw their way inside by sheer, brute force.
Sometimes a wayward one or two get inside, but we deal with the pesky things at the snap of a finger. Sometimes we let them wander, knowing they only want to catch a glimpse of the oasis that is our backyard.
Theywish.
I glide up the towering steps of the gargoyle lined doorways. The goliath-sized doors open for me, recognizing my presence.
“Lorenzo!”
I roll my eyes. My brother is an impatient son of a bitch, so instead of walking and enjoying a moment to myself, I teleport and find him in my suite.
Covered in glass and liquor.
