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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 5.

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Alice, controlled by the cowardly nuns, unleashed jealous rage upon the Living God, the crime broadcasted for all mankind to witness.

—First book of Vivian 14:01

Mary Sullivan

I just stood there like an idiot when Alice pulled the gun. It was such a small gun, almost a toy, the perfect thing to hide in a purse. All I could do was ponder stupidly on what was she doing with a gun as she leveled it at Mark’s chest.

The crack of Alice’s gun drove all thoughts from my mind.

Mark grunted. My eyes widened in horror. Blood blossomed on Mark’s chest. Surprise painted his face. And then he fell back. Everything slowed like the action scene in a comic book movie.

Alice kept squeezing the trigger, her gun barking over and over. More and more blossoms of blood sprouted on Mark’s torso. Someone shouted behind me, more guns fired, then Alice was falling backwards, her own bloody blossoms opening on her breast.

Mark hit the ground with a thud. Everything was silent.

“Mark!” This couldn’t be happening.

I dropped to my knees. There was so much blood soaking crimson through the fabric of Mark’s shirt. No this couldn’t be happening. I pushed my hands down on one of the blossoms, the blood warm and sticky. I had to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, Mark,” I begged.

His face grew ashen. His blue eyes found mine. His lips moved. He was trying to tell me something.

“Please, Mark,” I pleaded. “Help! Help!”

The bodyguards swarmed over to us. 63 dropped down opposite me to help me put pressure on Mark’s wounds. Chastity stood nearby, shouting into her police radio. Mark’s blood was warm on my hands and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing, but it was so shallow.

This cannot be happening.

Thamina appeared, shoving one of the guards out of her way. The Muslim slut carried her medical bag. She opened it up and began treating Mark, barking orders that fell on my deaf ears. She was an ER nurse.

She would save Mark.

Someone shook my shoulder. A voice shouted at me.

Reality crashed into my ears.

“Ambulance is on the way, Mistress,” Chastity told me, her hand on my shoulder. “Master will be fine.”

He would be fine, I lied to myself.

Thamina took a pair of scissors, the tips blunted and covered in safety plastic, and cut open Mark’s shirt. His chest and stomach were covered in smears of bright blood. Thamina pulled out pressure bandages, ripping open the paper wrapping and patched Mark’s wounds, wrapping white medical tape over his wounds.

He had to live.

“Lift him up,” Thamina said calmly. “I need to see if there are any exit wounds.”

How could she be so calm? Mark was dying.

No! Mark would be okay.

If I kept telling myself that, maybe it would be true.

Mark would be okay.

Mark would be okay.

Oh, please, let my Mark be okay.

I stroked his pale face and bent down and kissed his forehead. Stay with me Mark, please, please, please stay with me.

A tear ran hot down my cheek and splashed on his forehead.

* * *

The Angel Ramiel – Heaven

“He still lives,” I said, watching Mark Glassner being worked on by his Arab sex slave. I floated with Gabriel in the Light, the lowest reaches of the heavenly realm, and observed the Mortal world. “What does the future look like, Gabriel?”

“He may live long enough for outside interference,” the Archangel Gabriel answered, studying the threads of fate. He stroked Mark’s black thread. The end was hazy, popping through possibilities, the future too chaotic to predict now. “Dispatch the Priestesses, Ramiel. We cannot let one of Lucifer’s creatures interfere. The human’s medical technology will keep the Warlock alive for hours. Plenty of time for our fallen brother to save Mark Glassner’s life.”

“For the future,” I whispered sadly.

I moved through the golden light and found Sister Theodora Marian waiting outside the boxy vehicle that contained her soldiers. She stood with her fellow Priestesses: Isabella and Agnes. All three wore armor, the black vests that humans donned in this age to protect against their devastating weapons. Guns. There were no limits to human violence I had learned that lesson well over the millennia.

There were also no limits on their inventiveness. Mark Glassner lived. That must change.

I touched Sister Theodora lightly. She shuddered beneath the ecstasy of my angelic touch. I leaned in and whispered into her ear: “Alice has failed. Send in your soldiers, Theodora.”

* * *

Chastity Sarah Vinter – South Hill, WA

Fear clutched at my heart. Master lay dying on the ground. His killer sprawled a few yards past him, shot by the bodyguards on duty. The bitch gasped and moaned, her blood pumping from the wounds. I didn’t have time to think about her. My heart was hammering in my chest. Master couldn’t die. He was so powerful. I felt like I was about to fall apart.

My fear threatened to drown me in despair.

No. I had to keep it together. Master put me in charge of the bodyguards. I needed to stay in control. I had the command here. Mistress was too distraught to give any orders. And Master… Master needed me to be strong. It was my job. Master and Mistress were counting on me. So I wouldn’t dare give in to my weakness.

I would keep it together.

Thamina worked on Master, attaching an IV from her medical kit. Fiery-haired 63, one of the new bodyguards from Monday’s recruitment, held the bag filled with saline, squeezing it to get more fluids back into Master faster. He had lost so much blood. I glanced over at Alice. 01 and 24 were attending to the woman, securing her gun and putting pressure on her gunshots. I was tempted to let the bitch bleed out, but that wasn’t my call.

Nor was it my training as a cop.

I scanned the neighborhood, looking for other threats. My slut-sisters—Alison, Desiree, April, Violet, Xiu, Korina, Lillian, and Sam—watched anxiously from the porch, clutching each other, fear shining in their eyes. The reporter, Debra, and her cameraman were on the scene. She spoke into her microphone while the camera captured Master’s struggle to live. Jessica stood next to Debra, her eyes wide in shock.

The woman shouldn’t be filming Master like this. Anger seized me.

I started to move to the reporter when my Nextel chirped. “22 to Chastity, we have unusual activity at the entrance.”

I pulled out my Nextel and pushed the button. It chirped, connecting me to the network. “What, 22?”

“We have three SWAT vans incoming,” 22 answered.

I frowned. There was nothing on the police band about any SWAT units dispatched. Besides, no SWAT unit could respond this fast. Not ahead of any patrol unit. My stomach sank as my hammering heart surged adrenaline through my veins.

“Chastity to all units, we are under attack!”

Gunfire barked from the entrance to the street where 22 and three stood guard. A loud crash of metal. Tires screeched. The first SWAT van rounded the curve of the street, racing towards us. Gunfire erupted all down the street as the bodyguards fired at the vans. Debra and Jessica dived for cover while the cameraman knelt and kept right on filming.

I had to act.

“Mistress!” I shouted, grabbing her shoulder. I had to get her to cover. We were too far from the house and had no cover here.

The SWAT vans screeched to a stop at the cul-de-sac. I quickly scanned the area for a place to shelter. Ten feet away was a patrol car. I grabbed Mistress and dragged her with me, ignoring her commands and protests. Behind us, my slut-sisters dived back into the house.

“Let me go!” Mistress shouted, struggling in my grip. “I need to stay with him.”

“I can’t do that,” I answered. She blinked at me in shock—no one disobeyed her. Master gave me orders, gave all of the bodyguards orders. If anything ever happened to Master, we had to save Mistress, even if that meant ignoring her orders.

“Stay down, Mistress,” I shouted, pushing her down behind the rear tire and pinning her in place with my knee

I drew my 9mm handgun.

I peered over the trunk of the squad car. Black-fatigued SWAT officers poured out of the back of the van. I cursed, spotting their MP5’s and body armor. My 9mm would be useless against their heavy Kevlar So I aimed my gun at their legs or arms, and squeezed the trigger. Automatic gun fire erupted from the SWAT officers.

I ducked as bullets raked the squad car. The side windows shattered and rained tempered glass down on Mary and myself. The tire we were hiding behind hissed as it deflated. Cordite burned my nose and stung my eyes. My ears rang from the gunshots.

I glanced back at Master. Thamina still worked on him and 63 still held the IV with all the courage of a battlefield medic. Master was too hurt to be moved. The other bodyguards up and down the street were taking cover and returning fire.

I needed a heavier weapon than my handgun. Was there was an AR-15 in the patrol car I hid behind? Some officers had them. Since 9-11, it wasn’t uncommon for even a normal patrol unit to have the civilian version of the M-16 with them. I glanced inside the cop car but all I saw was a riot shotgun. Another burst of fire raked the car.

I huddled down atop Mistress.

“It will be okay, Mistress,” I told her as she lay quivering.

“What is going on?” Mistress sobbed, her arms covering her head. I wanted to huddle up into a ball and join her.

But I couldn’t. I had a job to do. Master and Mistress needed me to be brave

My heart thudded with fear and only my training kept me going. I peaked out around the cop car’s trunk and surveyed. A Black woman, wearing a vest over a gray nun’s habit, crouched behind a van. She barked orders at the SWAT officer.

I grit my teeth. The Sisters of Mary Magdalene were behind this attack.

Then I recognized the SWAT officers. They were the same unit that raided the house two weeks ago with Noel and her partner. They were under Master’s powers. My stomach sank. And that made them vulnerable to the nuns. The same thing happened when Karen attacked us. The nuns were controlling the SWAT officers. Their magics allowed them to control people under Master’s commands.

I grabbed my Nextel. “Chastity to all units, there are nuns commanding the SWAT. Aim for any women.” Next I pulled out my police radio. “1 David 324, Officers in distress, 2932 Mountain View Court. Officers under attack from suspects posing as Pierce County SWAT. Suspects have heavy weapons and body armor. 1 David 324, 2932 Mountain View Court, over.”

“Copy that 1 David 324,” dispatch responded, a woman under Master’s control. He had all the 911 and police dispatchers under his power. And they knew how to respond in an emergency. “Sending all units to your location, 2932 Mountain View Court.”

I peaked out again, scanning for any nuns. The SWAT officers were forming a semicircle, using their vehicles for cover as they fired at my girls. One SWAT was down, clutching a bleeding leg. I spotted the nun and emptied my clip at her. Sparks glinted off the vehicle as my bullets struck around her. And then she was down, one of my rounds catching her in the neck. Several of the SWAT officers suddenly looked dazed. One stood up from his cover and took a round in the shoulder, clutching his wound as he fell to the ground.

I swapped magazines and fired at another nun with sandy-blonde hair, but she ducked behind her vehicle. I adjusted my aim and emptied the rest of my clip at a SWAT officer, he staggered as my rounds caught him in his armor, but he didn’t fall. I ducked down as he returned fire.

Mary screamed as the bullets raked the cop car. One burst through the door inches from my face. I ejected the magazine from my gun and slammed in my next clip. My last clip. I glanced over at Master. Thamina held the IV in one hand and covered Master’s body with her own. Next to them, 63 lay slumped on the ground, bleeding from her back. I scanned the neighborhood. More of the bodyguard were down, slumped behind bushes, on porches, or behind their cars.

None of us wore body armor.

Sirens howled. Our backup neared. We just had to hold out a little longer. On the police radio, I could hear all the units that were responding to our location. A TAC alert had just been issued, and all the units in the County were descending on us.

We just had to hold out a little longer.

The gunfire dwindled. I wasn’t the only one running out of ammo. I looked up to see three of the SWAT officers advancing with the sandy-haired nun behind them. The lead two officers held riot shields while the blonde nun and the other officer huddled behind them. I unloaded my last clip at them, bullets ricocheting off the riot shields, trying to hit the unprotected side of the nun. I emptied my clit but I only hit one of the shield bearers in the knee. He screamed in pain and collapsed on the ground, exposing the nun.

The others returned fire at me.

I ducked back down behind the cop car. Metallic tinks rang through the air. Their bullets slammed into the cop car. They were only a few feet away. I looked around. I was the only bodyguard still up in front of the house. I was the only one left to protect Master and Mistress.

And all I had was my TASER and my nightstick.

If I stunned the nun, maybe her control of the SWAT officers would be interrupted long enough to matter. It was a long shot. And I couldn’t hit her in the vest. I drew my TASER and released the safety. I would have to aim carefully to hit the side gap between the front and back of her vest. And I would be a sitting target.

At this range, there was no chance that they’d miss me.

I glanced at Mistress curled up on the ground, her body shaking in fear. As a cop, I swore an oath to serve and protect the innocent. Noel’s beautiful face flashed through my mind. I should have told her how I loved her last night.

I stood up and aimed, my heart pounding in my breast. I focused on the nun, ignoring the SWAT officer raising his weapon to kill me. The laser sights of the TASER glowed red on the nun’s side falling on vulnerable gap between the front and back of the body armor. I exhaled and squeezed the TASER’s trigger as the muzzle of the MP5 flash and—

* * *

Sister Theodora Mariam

The blonde cop rose from behind the squad car.

She was the one who killed Agnes. She pointed something at me, not a gun. It was too thick and boxy to be a gun, striped with yellow on the sides. I had to do something, willing my legs to jump to the side. Everything was happening too fast and my body refused to move. The blonde cop squeezed the trigger and something flew at me trailing wires.

Pain burst in my side.

Duncan fired his sub-machine gun. The blonde fell back in a spray of red. She landed heavily on her back, her body twitching as her blood poured down the front of her half-exposed breasts. Like the other women defending Mark, she was his slave.

His victim.

But the blood was on my hands. Maybe she would live. I prayed she would live.

I felt at my side and found a small, metal dart buried in my flesh. It was from a TASER. But only one of the prongs hit me, the other stuck harmlessly in my vest. I winced as I ripped it out and tossed it on the ground.

Shots whizzed past me. Duncan was struck in the back of the neck and collapsed. More of the bodyguards fired at us from behind. Some had their own machine guns. The entire attack was falling apart. Sirens screamed nearer. More cops were coming. Cops on Mark’s side.

We had to wrap this up quickly.

I ducked behind the cop car as the woman with the rifle continued firing at us. Crouched at my feet was an auburn haired woman using the wheel of the cop car as cover. Her aura was red, the aura Warlock. Mark lay dead or dying on the ground, another Thrall working on him. I stood before Mary, Mark’s lover and partner in his depraved crimes.

Another degenerate.

I glanced back at Dennis crouching behind me. My eyes caught the blonde woman who shot the TAZER at me, I almost vomited. Her black aura was gone. She was dead. Everything I had been afraid of happened. She was only a Thrall, a victim of Mark. Innocent. It had been so long since I looked at a person and not seen the aura.

And she wasn’t the only Thrall dead because of my actions. It was my duty to save Thralls, not kill them.

“This is all for the Greater Good, Theodora,” I whispered to myself. “All for the Greater Good.”

Then why did I feel so dirty?

I turned to Mary, the female Warlock. I opened my mouth to Order Dennis, my last SWAT officer still standing, to execute her before we were overrun. The Warlock looked up at me. I froze before I could utter a word as I stared into her deep-green eyes and a freckled face. She was so familiar. An image swam up in my mind of a little girl laughing as I pushed her on the swing in the backyard of my old house, her auburn hair flowing behind her.

That was in another lifetime, when I was Tiffany Sullivan, loving wife and mother of three.

A look of shock appeared on the Warlock’s face. “Mother?”

Oh my god, it was her. My Mary. How could my middle daughter be a Warlock? I didn’t know what to say. And then I saw anger burning in her emerald eyes. My daughter hated me. My thoughts were scattered. Ramiel and Gabriel must have known who she was and they kept it from me.

My daughter hated me.

My daughter sold her soul to the devil.

I was sent to kill my own daughter by Heaven.

“Mother!” Mary snarled and leaped at me, her fingernails scratching at my face.

“Grab her,” I ordered at Dennis, trying to wrestle my daughter off my face.

The SWAT officer grabbed Mary, easily pulling her off me. Dennis pulled her arms behind her back and snapped plastic cuffs about Mary’s wrists, trapping her hands behind her back. Mary struggled like a wildcat, kicking and screaming at me.

“You fucking bitch! You killed him! You fucking nun! You did something to Alice, too! I’ll kill you, Mother!”

“Back to the van,” I ordered. Several of the Thralls circled around towards us, including the one with that big, ugly rifle that took out Duncan. Guilt shuddered through me—he was another one of my victims.

We ran back to the van. The Thralls held their fire. We had their Mistress. They shouted at us, rushing to catch us. My heart thudded. My daughter was a Warlock. I was sent to kill her. What should I do?

Dennis threw Mary into the back of the SWAT van before racing along the side to the driver seat. I jumped in after Mary. Something struck me in the back, and I fell to the floor of the van. I groaned, feeling like I had been punched.

“Go, Dennis!” I screamed hoarsely as the bodyguard raced towards us.

I slipped my hand between my back and the vest. I found where I was shot. No blood, only a painful bruise. The vest stopped the round. I sighed in relief.

I held onto my struggling daughter as the van peeled out. More shots pinged off the armored vehicle. There was a shuddering crash as the van clipped a cop car, then Mary and I slid on the floor as Dennis turned the van around. Out the back of the vehicle, the open doors flapping back and forth, I spotted my fellow nuns.

Agnes lay dead in a pool of blood, and Isabella slumped against the side of a car, eyes open, unstaring. Grief threatened to overwhelm me. Guilt threatened to drown me. More bodies littered the neighborhood. More of my victims.

“I’ll kill you, Mother!” Mary shouted as she squirmed beneath me.

The sirens screamed closer. I needed to do one more thing. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the SWAT van. I drew a deep breath and uttered a single word. “Cathar.” Energy rippled out of me and into the van. A prayer of invisibility. The final Prayer Ramiel taught me.

“Drive carefully,” I ordered Dennis. “No one can see us.”

To be continued…

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