The Devil’s Pact
The Tyrants’ Daughter Prologue: Opening Moves
© Copyright 2015
Story Codes: No Sex
For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Notes: Thanks to b0b for beta reading this!
Saturday, June 6th, 2054 – Astarte – Paris, Texas
Paris, Texas had been the best place to hide from Mark and Mary. They never suspected when they killed me that I went anywhere other than to the Abyss. Instead, I was raised by the Mayor’s daughter, Darleen Cummings, the idiotic girl that the Ghost had sold to me for that wondrous night of debauchery.
The vessel I inhabited had been conceived that night.
When Mark killed me, my soul had a refugee. This frail body. For nearly forty years I bided my time, slowly gathering scraps of power. I was the mayor now, inheriting the position from my vessel’s mother Darleen two years ago when she retired. I had used sex and dark magic to extend my subtle influence throughout the town beneath the Living Church’s nose.
I was sitting at my desk, my demonic guards flanking my windows. They had been men once, but I had dominated them wholly, stealing them from Mark and Mary’s control with ancient, vile magic. I savored the innocent maids screams as my knife carved out their hearts to enact the ritual. Thanks to my magic, they could become hoary, lion-like beasts.
My guards for the day of Mark and Mary’s downfall.
It approached. I could read it in the Stars. Even without my gift of prophecy—stolen from me when Mark’s golden sword slew me—the signs were apparent. The Creator would only stand for Mark and Mary’s domination for so long before Heaven acted.
But I didn’t expect it this morning.
I was reading over a dull report from the local Church, the priestess obsessed over the tiniest minutia. Happy and her cuckolded husband wanted everything perfect in the town, just the way the Living Gods commanded it, when the world changed.
One minute, a great power filled the world, and the next a vacuum.
I stirred, my leather chair creaking.
Excitement beat in my chest. I swiveled my chair, gazing out at the window. Mark and Mary were dead. Heaven had made their move. Confusion and chaos would follow. Opportunities would be found. My demons assumed their true form, pressing their spiky manes against my hips as their growling purrs echoed through the room.
I always liked lions.
I stroked their black manes, their thin, razor-sharp tails swishing back and forth as I plotted. I would need far more power if I wanted to rule once more. Out in the world, there would be a way. I just had to find it.
Saturday, May 1st, 2055 – Aoifa Coughlan – Canyonville, OR
My lungs burned. My sides ached. I wanted to stop running, but the screams of battle propelled me. My heart hammered in my breast.
I threw a look over my shoulder at the inferno consuming Canyonville. Tears ran down my dirty face. My friends and family were being slaughtered. I clutched the box and the printed pages of Isabella’s epistle to my breasts, holding them tight.
It was our only hope.
The Living Gods had to answer my summons. Their worshipers were being slaughtered. The Holy Liberation Army of Oregon had descended upon us two weeks ago demanding our repentance. We had to give up our worship and love for the Living Gods and submit to the cross.
We refused. We only wanted to live in peace, to hold onto the perfect lives we had before the Death. Mark and Mary had ascended to heaven, and mankind had failed them. We didn’t maintain the utopia they had created. Within days, man fought man. We were as evil as the Gods always preached.
And the Apostates were the worse.
I was the only priestess that made it through the enemy’s lines. Rachel, Mary, Debra, Ursula, Rosa, and Gretchen all died trying to get clear of the town. I don’t know why I made it. Perhaps the Living Gods watched out for me. Perhaps I was just lucky.
If only Isabella’s Epistle had arrived earlier. The young woman’s letter delivered the Living Gods’ new message and instructions on how to summon them. Her words were my home’s only hope.
I burst out of the brush on Grazley Bridge Road, racing north towards the South Umpqua River. Stage Coach Road crossed ahead, a quarter mile from the bridge. My heart beat faster. Soldiers shouted behind me. I had to reach the crossroads.
A loud boom erupted. Fire roared and light flared, momentarily painting the road with orange, stark light.
I reached the crossroads, pushing back my fiery-red hair as I fell to my knees at a pothole. Isabella’s Epistle instructed that the box had to be buried at a crossroads. I reached into the pothole, prying out a chunk of broken asphalt and revealing the dirt bed of the road. I had no idea how far off midnight was, I just had to hope I wasn’t too late.
The Living Gods would only appear at midnight.
I shoved the box into the hole. It contained a lock of my hair, a lavender flower, and a rabbit’s foot. I covered the box with the chunk of asphalt. Then I raced to the shoulder to scoop up gravel into my slim fingers and dumped the dusty pebbles into the hole, burying the box.
“I think she ran over here!” a man shouted.
Fear shot through me. I was barely sixteen. The first fifteen years of my life had been in the idyllic peace of the Theocracy. I never thought I could be this scared. I scurried for the brush, burying myself into the thick leaves. The branches tore at my gauzy, white robes and my fiery hair. I didn’t want to die. I’ve never even had sex.
I had been saving myself for Him. At twelve, I was deemed beautiful enough to enter the lotto. Even when They ascended last year, I maintained my purity. I wanted to be ready for Him when He returned. I would give my virginity to Him. My gift. I wanted to be His. I wanted to serve the Gods and be Theirs.
So I really didn’t want to die.
I trembled in the bushes as boots crunched on asphalt. The soldiers of the Liberation Army were rough men, wearing dark clothes and carry forbidden guns. That was how my town lost. There were no guns in Canyonville. We respected the Living Gods wishes. We tried to be pacifist, to not harm our neighbors.
But the Apostates were so full of hate. They wanted to stamp out all traces of the “Tyrants.” They hated us. They all had embraced the old religions, and these men were as full of intolerance as the Christians always had been. They followed Doug and Tina Allard. Worse, they claimed the Holy Chasity as their Saint and claimed the Holy Daughter killed Her parents.
“Maybe we shouldn’t kill her,” one of the soldiers said, striding forward. “If we can convince her to repent…”
“You already have a wife,” another man growled. “We are not followers of the Tyrants. Keep your thoughts pure, brother.”
“I try, but a woman that beautiful…”
I shuddered. They would…force me. How disgusting.
“Please, come,” I whispered. It had to be midnight by now.
The soldiers drew closer to the crossroads. What if they found my box? Would it the stop the ritual?
Another explosion rocked the night.
“Damn, that was a big one,” chuckled a soldier. “These Glassnerian’s are putting up a fight. They’ve managed a fiercer resistance than Eugene.”
“Fire cleanses,” the older soldier nodded. “The world must be purified.”
“Sir!” the first soldier gasped, raising his weapon.
I blinked. Two people stood in the crossroad. I gasped in delight. It was Them. My God stood tall, blue eyes shining in the moonlight. His arm was wrapped around my Goddess’s waist, her perfect, gorgeous body pressed against His muscular frame, her dark-red shimmering. A smile crossed her heart-shaped, freckled face and green eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Where the fuck did they come from?” the first soldier shouted.
My God looked right at my hiding place. “Hello, Aoifa.”
“Get down on your knees,” the older soldier shouted, brandishing his rifle.
My Goddess flicked her hand. A wave of scintillating light swept out, crashing into the soldiers. Their bodies were consumed by inverse light, leaving behind glowing motes that drifted away on the light breeze.
“It is safe, Aoifa,” my Goddess said, her voice pure and beautiful.
“You came,” I sobbed, scrambling out of the bushes. I rushed to them, falling to my knees before Them. Tears of joy poured down my cheeks. “You will save me. You will save Canyonville.”
“Canyonville is lost,” the God said, bending down. He cupped my chin, lifting me up until he stared into my eyes. “You are such a beautiful girl. You will make them happy.”
Scarlet light flashed. A contract appeared in my Goddess’s hands. “Here is the deal we’ll make with you.” She pushed it into my hands.
I read the document, my eyes widening. “But…I don’t understand. Why do I need to sleep? Who are my spouses? And who do I need to help?”
“Are you faithful, Aoifa?” He demanded. “Will you submit to your God’s will?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Then sign,” She purred, handing me a pen. “And help us save our daughter.”
I signed my name on the bottom of the contract.
Sleep overcame me.
I fell into a pleasant dream.
I lifted Aoifa’s sleeping body. She was a gorgeous, a curvy redhead. I always did love redheads. Mary walked beside me, waving her hand and creating Aoifa’s bower. I sat her down amid the bushes on a pillow of soft moss.
Mary and I would save Chase’s soul. We would set her free from the pain and suffering we drove her to.
Pieces had to be preserved. Aoifa was the last, and in someways the least important. We had examined the future. So much death awaited mankind. Everything was breaking down. All the logistics we had set up to transport food and medicine across the world would be destroyed. Doug and Tina call us Tyrants as they preach against us in Rome, but their actions to free mankind would cause so many deaths.
Mary placed a single, white lily on Aoifa’s chest.
“You are spoiling them,” she said with a fond smile.
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But they’ll need her.”
The plants grew, covering Aoifa, protecting and hiding her while she slumbered and dreamed. The power of the summoning waned. Our brief freedom from Hell was over. I glanced back at Canyonville where our followers died.
So many new souls were falling into Hell.
I took Mary’s hand and we crossed back over into the Shadows. We stood in the top-most layer of the Abyss. So close to the real world that you could almost touch it. From here we plotted. We spied. We moved our pieces.
“She hurts, Mark,” Mary whispered. “Can you feel her pain?”
I relaxed my control, reaching out my senses and touching Chase. Our daughter’s soul was full of black vile. Guilt consumed her, devoured her. Chase had been driven to kill us to set men free. She sacrificed her soul to give them freedom. How they squandered her gift.
Free will was a double-edge sword.
Mary and I moved through the Shadows in a blink of the eye. We found our daughter sitting on the edge of a waterfall. She was still beautiful, with Mary’s heart-shaped face and freckles, framed by auburn hair. But she had my blue eyes.
Mary reached out, trying to touch our daughter.
Her hand passed through Chase.
“We’ll save you,” I whispered to my daughter. “We’ll set you free.”
To be concluded…
Click here for Chapter 1.
I have released a part 17 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!by