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For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here

This is a revised version of the story that I published on Smashword starting back in 2014. It is rewritten with much-added material. However, I did have to age up some of the characters so no one is underage in this version.

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Click here for Chapter 2.

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With a heavy heart, the Living God laid to rest His earthly father. The God learned much from His father, and through grief was love tempered. The time fast approached for the Living Gods to reveal their love to the world.

—The Gospel of April 27:01-02

Mary Sullivan

Mark dressed in the dark slacks and the white, buttoned-down shirt I laid out for him. When I walked out of the bathroom, he pulled on the dark-gray suit jacket while I pulled out the most conservative dress I owned—the skirt falling to my knees and the neckline only showing off a hint of my cleavage. Since I met Mark, it was the most amount of clothing I had warn.

I had gotten used to be naked even out in public. Which was such a rush, but I wanted to be respectful to Mark.

As Mark clipped on a black tie, I donned the diamond earrings he bought me followed by the heart-shaped locket with a rose sculpted on the front. It was my favorite piece of jewelry beside my engagement ring. Mark smiled at me again.

I loved his hungry eyes.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his arms. He was avoiding thinking about his dad. They had a… complicated relationship.

We headed downstairs and found Mark’s younger sister Antsy waiting. She wore a simple, ebony dress, her black hair done up in a plain braid. “Hey, bro,” she said, a little sad. “I… Christ, I still can’t believe Dad’s dead.”

“I know,” Mark said, his demeanor changing, his face growing soft. He went to his sister and hugged her.

Antsy buried her face into his chest and her body shook as she cried. Mark soothed her and stroked her hair. Pain shone in his eyes, but I wasn’t sure if it was grief for his dead dad or grief over his sister’s. I walked up to him and stroked his back.

“God, I’m a mess,” Antsy said. “He was an abusive prick who made mom miserable, and yet…”

“I know.” Mark took a deep breath. “We should get going.”

Antsy nodded.

We left in Mark’s Mustang, Antsy sitting in the back. Mark’s mom didn’t come. But she watched us leave, her face red with tears. She had loved her husband once before he became abusive. I think she may have loved him when she pulled the trigger on the shotgun and killed him. But Sandy just hated her husband more than she loved him by then and she wanted to protect her new lover, Betty.

Mark, with our bodyguard escort, didn’t speed on the way to the funeral home in Parkland, where both our families were from. It was a quiet drive. Mark stared straight ahead while Antsy stared down at her small purse clutched in her hands.

The funeral was held in small room a few rows of pews before the plinth and a simple urn containing Mr. Glassner’s ashes. A huge photo of the man, from when he was young and still fit, set on an easel. Only a few people showed up for the funeral. Mark didn’t know them all except a few.

“Hey, Uncle Aaron,” Mark said to a man that was clearly his dad’s brother. “Hi, Aunt Dee.”

“So sorry for your loss,” Dee said, then glanced at me while Antsy hugged her Uncle and cried more.

I put on a friendly smile as Dee’s eyes lit up. I swallowed. My wish for every woman to be attracted me didn’t seem all that appropriate at the moment. But there was nothing I could do about it except not take advantage of Mark’s attractive aunt.

“This is Mary, my fiancee,” Mark said.

“I’ve seen you both on TV,” Dee said. “I still can’t believe that’s Mark causing all those problems.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I lied. “Mark hasn’t done anything wrong. Everything he does is right.”

“Of course it is. He’s a good boy.” Dee gave me a friendly hug. “Besides, a pretty girl like you wouldn’t get mixed up with a bad guy.”

“That’s right,” I nodded. Mark wasn’t bad, just horny. And so was I. So what if we used our powers to satiate our desires? The sluts were all happy, and so was every woman we enjoyed. Even Dee would be happy if I whispered the right words into her ears.

I broke the hug though. “We should take our seats,” I said. “I think it’s starting.”

A minister had appeared at the podium. Dee blinked and nodded before she let her husband lead her away. I took Mark’s arm again and we found seats with Antsy up front. I crossed my legs and swallowed.

I hadn’t been to a lot of funerals.

* * *

Mark Glassner – Parkland, WA

The minister stepped up to the podium in his black shirt and starched white collar. He opened a thick bible and read from scripture. I didn’t hear a word he said. I was lost in memories of dad before he hurt his back. Then he had been a real father and not the drunken asshole he became. He used to smile and laugh. He and Mom were happy, like a husband and wife should be.

I glanced at Mary, studying her. She reached over and took my hand, giving me a squeeze. I would never turn into my father. I would never hurt my filly and drive her away from me. My father had turned into a terrible man.

I had to be the opposite.

Mary’s hand squeezed mine. Tears beaded in my eyes. She pressed her shoulder against mine. It was a slight movement, but I enjoyed the comfort she gave me. I squeezed her hand back and looked at my father’s urn.

He was dead. I would never see him again. I hated him for so long. I could have stopped him from ever hurting Mom again. If I had acted, she never would have to live with the guilt of pulling the trigger and putting him down.

“Would anyone like to say a few words about David Glassner?” the minister asked, his words cutting through the fog of my thoughts.

Before I knew what happened, I stood. I didn’t know why I walked to the podium. I hadn’t planned on saying anything. I reached it, resting my hands on the polished wood, and paused, trembling before the few mourners who had cared enough to attend.

Then my eyes turned to the urn. The words spilled unbidden from my lips. “Dad, you were an abusive drunk. An asshole to Mom, to me, and to Antsy. But you weren’t always like that. I remember the time I helped you replace a doorknob. It must have made the job take twice as long. My hand was almost too tiny to hold the screwdriver. I had to strain to twist the screw in.

“But you didn’t get mad. You put your hand over mine and helped me twist. We drove in the screws one by one together. When we finished…” I smiled at the memory of my dad’s hand rubbing my head when we finished. “When we finished, you told me I was good boy for helping you out. So, Dad, I forgive you. Wherever you are.”

I was close to crying as I walked from the podium. I marched down the aisle, my back straight. I couldn’t stay in here. I had to get away. I reached the double doors at the end of the small chapel. I burst through it, sucking in ragged breaths. I leaned against the wall, my fist clenching.

My father was dead.

The doors opened a moment later and Mary appeared. She threw her arms around my neck and cradled me to her breast as the tears burst from my eyes. Her fingers stroked through my hair. Tears ran down my cheeks, forming hot rivulets that cooled until the next drop flooded out of my eyes. My body shook and Mary whispered soothing whispers.

I held her tight, scared to let go.

Time faded away as I poured out my emotions. When I finished, my throat ached and my head throbbed. I looked up at Mary, both embarrassed that I had broken down before her and joyful that I had her for comfort.

I cupped her face. “Thank you.”

She kissed my cheek. Her perfume filled my nose. “You’re welcome.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. “Here.”

I wiped my face clean and took a deep breath. My bodyguards waited nearby. The two women, dressed as sexy cops, both gave me kind smiles. I kept my arm around Mary, not wanting to let go of her just yet.

The doors opened and my Uncle Aaron and his wife appeared. He had Dad’s urn held in the crook of his arm. He walked over to me. “Hey, Mark.”

I smiled. “Hey, Uncle Aaron.”

He licked his lips. “Tell your mom that I understand why she did it.”

“I will,” I told him and shook his hand.

Uncle Aaron shook my hand and Aunt Dee kissed me on both cheeks. “We have a flight to catch,” she said with an apology and then they walked out of the funeral home.

Mary and I had a flight to catch as well. I tossed Antsy my Mustang’s keys. “Don’t wreck my car,” I told her. “I stole it from this asshole, and it’s just so satisfying to drive.”

“We’ll see, big bro,” Antsy grinned then gave Mary and me warm hugs. “Don’t wreck New York.”

I laughed hard. It felt amazing.

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 4.

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I have released a part 43 of the revamped Devil’s Pact on Smashwords. Read this post for more information if you’re interested!