Friday, June 13th – slip beyond the gates of Hell!
Sly Sathariel possessed his father’s genes and, on Earth, he created all sorts of havoc for humans, though he never took a life. His father, Satan, reserved that power, yet, not even he could keep Sly from the arms of the pure and spiritual woman representing the Tree of Life. She entangled him in her roots, pulled Sly in a direction his soul dare not follow.
Waverly Malkuth had a premonition no human should be privy to -- she witnessed her own death. It was tearing her apart, filling her with anger and thoughts of vengeance that went against the grain of everything she knew. Giving in to the malevolence growing in her heart, it carried her into the arms of a man who could only hurry her journey down the deadly path she followed.
Waverly Malkuth hadn’t counted on wanting Sly, or enjoying his touch, the sound of his laughter, and how good it felt when he moved inside her. Nor did she count on feeling safe with him. How could she?
“It’s you who kills me.” Waverly wished he had proved her wrong because she wanted him more than she’d wanted any other man she’d taken to her bed. She thought he could make her forget, but not him, not Sly. The pictures of her dying were not always quite clear, but when she first laid eyes on him, Wave knew the truth. “The pictures on the wall… it’s your eyes I see glaring red right before you murder me.”
A dream, or a premonition, it didn’t matter. Sly Sathariel would kill her. Every night she spent alone in her bed, she died over and over again at his hands.
He dumped her body unceremoniously onto the bed and jumped up. “You’re out of your mind.”
The vacant smile she’d confronted the world with over the last few weeks was back. Wave felt it in the terrible twist of her lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me being crazy?”
“I’m not sure what kind of pictures you see or what the hell goes on in your apartment, but I guarantee, neither me, nor anyone else, is going to kill you.”
“God knows, I wish I could believe you.”
The room shook violently.
“Waverly, you… damn, do you need to be so blasphemous?”
Her head cocked to the side. “Someone… something doesn’t like it?” Now they could get to the point. Waverly had started to notice a month ago at the club, whenever the brothers were there, any uttered religious phrase brought about mini quakes and electrical disturbances. Her whole life she’d seen things others didn’t, had hunches or forewarnings of local disasters that came true. Until she first spied the three men, she’d never had the premonition of her own death -- with moving pictures and all the blood and gore.
“No, someone doesn’t like it.”
“Personally, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit who you need to call on as long as you say Sly when I’m fucking you.”
“Maybe you won’t be fucking me.”
“Get dressed; we’re going to your place.” He grabbed his slacks and shirt from the floor. “Hell knows, this bullshit is going to stop.”
“The premonitions, I’ve always known about… there are evil things in this world.”
He spun toward her. “What do you mean?”
She watched him stand deathly still. “You… you’re evil. I think you’re the devil.”
“No, I mean what premonitions?”
“Fires, earthquakes, I know when people are going to die.” She continued to stare at Sly. “Until something made me enter that damn club where I saw you and your brothers, I’d never seen my own death.”
“Shit. Not now.” He peered around the room as if he looked for someone.
The bed rocked and rolled, walls pulsed with life. “Goddamn it, Sly, what is going on?”
“Will you please trust me?” He gazed at her, took in every inch of her body as she sat in the middle of the mattress. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have no choice.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“Use my computer, password is satanssecondborn, look up Malkuth and every single thing you can find on it.”
“My name?” Waverly pulled the covers around her knowing they would afford no protection from whatever rattled the building. “Sly, don’t leave me, please!”
“I’m sorry.” The floor split wide-open, fire leaped around the walls, danced over the glass, and a forked tail flicked from the flames touching the ceiling. “You won’t be able to leave, but, I promise, Waverly, you’ll be safe here.” The tail dropped down, wrapped around Sly’s bare waist, and snatched him into the breach.
“Jesus! God is good, God is great…” Waverly chanted and everything stopped moving; the bed, walls, and the heat from the flames dissipated. Sly’s bedroom reverted to the way it was before the floor opened up and swallowed him. It was then Waverly figured out the odd markings on the carpet. “Holy fuck, it’s a pentagram.” Nothing she’d ever witnessed prepared her for this, yet somehow she understood; her life was irrevocably intertwined with Sly’s. “Who, what the hell are you, Sly Sathariel?
J Hali Steele
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out.-J. Hali Steele