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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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Even our Living Gods’ greatest critics saw the beauty of His words. Conversion blossomed in their hearts, and they did bend knee to the Theocracy.

—The Gospel of April 41:01

Mark Glassner – Washington D.C.

The Honorable Senator from the Great State of Texas was speaking when I walked into the Senate fresh from the assassination attempt. I was invigorated. Nothing could stop me. Not even an assassin somehow immune to my mind control powers.

The Senator from Texas fixed flinty eyes on me as a great uproar went through the room. All the senators who were not under my power pulled earplugs out of their pockets and stuffed them into their ears.

Irritation flashed through me. People were getting wise to the limitations of our powers.

But it didn’t matter. My soldiers had already surrounded the Capital Building, trapping most of the Senators and Congressmen inside. I kept marching down the center, my hand clenching, wanting to summon the flames again.

The Senator from Texas, Ronald Bybee, put in his own earplugs and kept orating, “The Great State of Texas can no longer stand by and watch as our once proud Nation kowtows to this monster!” He jabbed at me with such violence like he wanted to reach across the room and plunge his finger deep into my heart. “Governor Holt has asked me to convey his decisions. As of today, October 7th, 2013, the Great State of Texas secedes from the Union and will once again be the Republic of Texas!”

I surveyed the other senators. Half looked worshipfully at me, kneeling down to prostrate before their god, while their colleagues with their earplugs either scowled defiantly or stared fearfully at me. Up in the gallery, the C-SPAN cameras rolled.

I walked proudly.

The Legion streamed around me, fanning about the room, their boots echoing loudly. They had guns, wore their fatigues. It was an unmistakable show of force. It was the opposite of everything that the Senate stood for. I was overthrowing democracy. I felt a pang of guilt. I was betraying everything my Country stood for: Freedom, Liberty, Democracy. Our forefathers had rejected the tyranny of Kings, and here I was imposing the harsher tyranny of a God upon them.

It was all for the greater good, I told myself. I was replacing it with something better. Once we had every man, woman, and child enthralled to us, under our domination, there would be an end to violence—to the suffering that men callously inflicted on each other. Everyone would be happy and live peacefully with their neighbors. Everyone would be happy in a way no other society could create.

Mary hinted that something bad was coming. We needed to prepare the world to save it.

That was worth a little tyranny, right?

“Do not kill anyone,” I ordered. “Remove their earplugs so they can hear my words.”

I watched as my soldiers surged into the Senators. I kept hardening myself as they shouted, pleading, crying out for the soldiers to remember their oaths to the constitution, to the Republic. But they were all mine.

Thirty-three governors and eleven lieutenant governors arrived for the meeting. Six states didn’t send anyone, Mary sent as I waited for the senators to be liberated from their earplugs. She was at a meeting of state governors. We needed to get the state governments under our thumbs just as much as the Federal Government. How is it going at Congress?

I take it Texas is one of the six that didn’t send a representative?

How did you know? Surprise pulsed in her thought.

Texas just seceded from the Union.

There was a pause. Then she asked telepathically, Does the Governor of Texas know you have his National Guard under your control?

He’s about to find out the hard way. I paused, considering Mary’s news. I think we should arrest those governors who just sent their lieutenants. Let’s place their lieutenants in charge of those states in their place.

Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Bitter regret filled her reply. Are we doing the right thing?

Hopefully, Mare.

The commotion had died down; the resistant senators had been cowed and were under guard, their earplugs removed. Only a few of them had to be roughly handled. Geraldine Medley, one of Washington State’s two senators, walked up to the podium. “Senators, I’m proud to welcome our Lord and Protector, the Divine Mark Glassner!”

The loyal senators clapped and a few of the more bold, captured senators booed as I strode up to the Podium. I took my place, projecting regal power. Authority. I was the government now. Mary and I were the ultimate power. So I had to look it.

I gazed out them and spoke the speech April had written for me: “I am here today to have the Senate confirm that I am your loving god, here to protect you from the coming Darkness.”

As I spoke, my enemies became my most fervent allies. Their auras went from silver to black. Dominated.

The Senate passed a constitutional amendment declaring us the gods of America and our worship as the official state religion. Then they ratified the treaty the president had signed with me placing America beneath the auspices of our Theocracy—the first sovereign country to be brought beneath our world government.

They passed other laws, stripping all other religions of their tax exemption and further imposing a tax on all churches, synagogues, temples, mosques, shrines, and any other place of worship that didn’t follow us.

With the Senate in hand, I walked over to the House of Representatives to deal with the Congressmen and -women. My soldiers had already secured them and, after I had finished speaking, they unanimously voted for the laws and amendments that the Senate had passed. I felt dirty as I left Congress.

But it was all for the greater good.

Next, I visited the British, French, and German embassies, placing their ambassadors under our control. The situation with Europe was tense. All the world leaders not under our power were avoiding our phone calls, making it difficult to get them under domination. The ones that were under our power were facing considerable political turmoil. The Prime Minister of Britain, loyal to us, had been forced to resign by a motion of no confidence. Various parties were now vying for power in their Parliament.

Worse happened to the unfortunate President of Pakistan: He had been beheaded by fundamentalists rallying behind the Taliban.

* * *

Mary Glassner

I was bursting with anticipatory excitement when I arrived at Mark’s hotel in Washington, D.C. The very spot where someone had tried to kill him. If it wasn’t for the amulets Sam created, we would have all died. She was with me in the limousine, having flown down with me from New York after she and Candy had landed from completing their mission to France.

“Mark!” I cried when I spotted him in the lobby, out of the reach of prying cameras. I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck. I kissed him hard on the lips. My hands ran all over his body, making sure he was fine. “You’re not hurt, are you? You didn’t leave anything out when you were fighting with the assassin?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Mare!” he said with such boyish laughter, like it wasn’t such a big deal.

So I poked him hard in the chest. “You need to be more careful! Good PR! Really, Mark?”

“Sorry.”

Then I kissed him again and clung to him. He was safe. Our powers had protected him. We had to get the world under our control. I wasn’t losing our family. We would find a way to cheat death. We would never die and burn in Hell. Lucifer could rot in there for eternity.

Then Mark broke the kiss and asked past me, “You have it?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam answered. “Though we did run into some trouble.”

I nodded, explaining, “I had to heal Candy. She had a badly broken leg, and Sam had some cuts too.”

“What happened?” Mark blinked. I had been shocked, too, to learn they had been attacked. I thought it was a relatively safe mission.

“Lilith,” Candy spat, such anger in her tone. “One of her children followed us and attacked us.”

“An Alukah,” Sam explained. “A type of vampire. It killed two police officers and almost drained me dry of my blood.” Sam glanced fondly at Candy. “But she saved my life.”

Candy flushed. “It was nothing, Sam. You would have done the same for me.”

“She was amazing,” Sam continued. “She broke her leg jumping out of a second-story window and then dragged herself back into the Motherhouse to save me.” Sam gave her a brief kiss on the lips. “Anyway, I can start constructing the Matmown right away.”

“Good,” I smiled, then glanced at Mark. “So, you captured a man immune to your powers?”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “A Warlock?”

“No, he has a black aura,” Mark answered. “Only, there’s no red fringe indicating he’s under the Zimmah spell.”

“Interesting,” Sam smiled.

“That’s one word for it,” my husband muttered as he led us to the elevator.

I clung to him, just glad he was alive.

* * *

Mark Glassner

The elevator creaked down to the basement. The walls were undressed cinder blocks, the floor a hard slab of more concrete. Soldiers guarded a utility room and muffled heavy metal music bled through the door. Was that Cannibal Corpse? The soldiers saluted before they opened the door.

The assassin was handcuffed to a chair, a black bag over his head. A CIA interrogator leaned against the wall and straightened when I entered. He quickly turned the music off, plunging the room into ringing silence.

“What have you learned?” I asked.

The CIA interrogator shrugged. “Not much, my Lord. He’s Agent Jerrold Baxter, FBI. Thirteen years in the FBI, seven as an HRT sniper.”

I frowned at the acronym.

“Hostage Rescue Team, my Lord. A counter-terrorist unit. Highly trained. No black marks on his record, three citations for bravery and one Medal of Valor, a very prestigious award in the FBI.”

Mary pulled the mask off the man and then stuck a finger underneath her skirt. It came away wet with her juices, and she traced a symbol on the man’s head—the Mark of Qayin. It was necessary to anchor any prayers she needed to cast on the prisoner. She murmured a Nun’s prayer, then frowned, straightening.

“He’s not a Thrall,” Mary said. “The prayer didn’t work.”

I looked at my wife in confusion. “What? But his aura?”

“If he were a Thrall, he’d be staring blankly ahead,” Mary she answered.

“It is possible he’s a Warlock,” Sam suggested. “If he made the right wish, perhaps it could have camouflaged his aura. Or perhaps there is a spell that can do the same.”

Mary reached down and unzipped the prisoner’s pants, pulling out his cock. “What the fuck!” the assassin gasped. “What are you doing?”

Mary grimaced and stroked him. Then she bent down and sucked his cock into her mouth. A bewildered expression filled the assassin’s face as Mary’s head bobbed up and down. He had been ready for pain, for agony, but not for pleasure.

“She is a whore!” he growled at me.

I gritted my teeth, hating to see my wife degrade herself. Memories flashed through my mind of Brandon holding her face, ramming his cock into her mouth, while she pretended to love it. I fought down the bile and anger. If I could, I would bring Brandon back from the dead just to put another bullet in his head.

Sweat broke out on the man’s face. He struggled to resist the pleasure, suspicious. He must suspect a spell. He fought against his orgasm for a while, face growing strawberry-red. But Mary never stopped sucking, one hand gently massaging his balls. She alternated between deep-throating him, and licking just the tip of his cock.

But determined will could only hold out so long against biology.

“Shit!” he grunted.

Mary quickly pulled her mouth off his cock, white cum shooting up into the air, and hissed, “Shalak.”

The Mark of Qayin blazed white on the man’s head. He spasmed as his aura became silver. A regular human’s aura. Whatever spell or wish hid his aura was broken. She had exorcised him, removing his powers. He wasn’t a Warlock any longer.

But he was still bound to the demon with whom he had made his Pact. Probably the Devil.

Mary coughed and spat out his cum. The CIA interrogator handed her a water bottle and she noisily washed her mouth out, spitting into the corner of the room as I studied the man. My mind whirled. A Warlock who looked like a Thrall. A quarter of the nation must be under our powers by now. A sea of people that a Warlock with the right wish or spell could hide in. I glanced at Sam. Her eyes were furrowed, mind churning away.

She was always thinking, always working out problems..

“Why did you try to kill me?” I finally asked.

His aura turned black as my power affected him. “For Liberty!” he spat. “Did you think that you could enslave our Great Nation and patriots would not rise up and fight you?”

“There are more of you?” Mary asked, walking back.

“Many,” he spat. “We will not rest until you two are dead!”

“What are their names?” I demanded.

He frowned, and struggled to talk. “I…can’t…say!”

I blinked at that. He was… resisting.

“Ask him what his wishes were,” Sam suggested.

I did.

“I wished to be immune from another person’s control. To make my aura appear black like a Thrall’s. And that anyone who signed our pledge could not have their names or locations revealed to the Tyrants, Mark and Mary Glassner, or any who serve them.” He laughed, an almost maniacal, unhinged sound. “You see, as long as one of us still has our Pact, no one can be forced to reveal our names or where we plot!”

“You all made a Pact?”

His grin was wild. “All the Patriots! I may have failed today, but there will be others. We shall not stop! We are everywhere! We are legion!”

* * *

General Gonzalo Olmos – Austin, TX

Governor Quincy Holt, the traitor to his Gods and Country, stood on the porch of the Governor’s Mansion of the Great State of Texas besides the massive, white Doric columns that supported the roof. Local and national media were in attendance, filming the traitor as he prepared to make his speech declaring that Texas had seceded from the Union. The lawn was full of men and women cheering and clapping, waving Texan flags.

No U.S. flag flew around the mansion, only the State Flag. The Republic of Texas’s flag.

“It is with a heavy heart that I made my decision,” the traitor said into the microphones. “But I could not let the Great State of Texas fall into the hands of a false messiah. There is only one god, and his name is not Mark Glassner!”

A great cheer went up from the crowd. Signs were waved, reading: “Jesus is my savior, not Mark,” “’Thou shalt have no gods before me.’ Exodus 20:3,” “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the exercise thereof!” and many more.

They were all traitors.

“General Olmos,” Captain Brentmeyers saluted.

I was the Adjutant General for the Texan National Guard. When Governor Holt mobilized the Guard to seceded from the Union, I had been sick to my stomach. His actions today would not pass unanswered. I would help my gods preserve this great nation and not let some disgusting politician pull it apart like a murder of crows over a carcass. There would be no second Civil War if I could help it.

All of my soldiers agreed with me.

“Everything is ready, sir,” the captain told me, his young face pale.

“It will be okay, son,” I told him, clasping his shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “For our Country and for our Gods.”

He swallowed, straightening his back. “Yes, sir!”

The traitor continued his speech as I marched along the edge of the crowd towards the porch. My soldiers were positioned around the lawn’s perimeter, supposedly a show of support for the traitorous governor. The bastard nodded to me. A jovial smile crossing his fat, ruddy face and a pleased, oily look filled his eyes as he saw me. The disgusting slug lusted for power.

I climbed the stairs to join him.

“General Olmos and I will prot—”

His oily eyes bulged in surprise as I drew my service handgun, a Colt .45 with a nickel-plated grip that I had polished until it gleamed like silver. I placed it to the traitor’s forehead, seeing the dawning realization in his eyes as he discovered the price for treason.

“For Mark and Mary!” I roared and executed him.

To be continued…

Click here for Demonic Passions, Chapter 1.

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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!