|Bound to Love Evil
Author: eleine kruez PM
Question: What would you have to give up to find Love? Answer: Your soul. A devout Catholic and a First-Class Demon living together? Mike tries to catechize Sheridan (the harridan) while she teaches him the thrills of being a little bit evil.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Supernatural - Chapters: 3 - Words: 9,470 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 01-12-06 - Published: 12-30-05 - id: 2080009
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Bound to Love Evil
By Eleine Kruez
Rose and lavender streaked across the infinite expanse of sky, darkness and light battling for dominance. The beautiful scene was lost on Michael. It was almost sundown and this abandoned chapel was his last stop for the day.
He made the sign of the cross after finishing his litany of prayers. He sat on the old pew, unmindful of the strain his weight caused the rotting wood. He stared at the empty altar before him, the absence of the giant cross so glaringly obvious with the off-white "t" shape amid dark brown stains. The people have long abandoned this chapel in favor of the new one built three blocks from the site.
In their minds, the new chapel would be more convenient, especially since they didn't have to climb the hundred or so steps up the small hill where it was located. Mike didn't overlook the old chapel, however. It had been his quest to pray in all churches and chapels in the area. He would be by Danielle's side at sun rise and return at the evening, offering prayers for Danielle's recovery. He wished he could spend all his time next to Dani, but he felt better knowing he was doing something for her.
It was fortunate a friend of Dani's had shown up to offer being with her while he was out the whole day. Sally's visit was a surprise. He knew Dani had many friends, of course, Dani was so amiable and it wasn't hard to find a friend in her. But she never mentioned Sally, who claimed was her closest friend, best friend, even. Mike would've been suspicious of her sudden arrival if he hadn't seen the love and concern for Dani in her eyes. He was sure it would be the same had anyone looked in his.
As it happened, Sally stayed with Danielle while he made a pilgrimage of the religious institutions in the area. Even those outside the city. A week had passed since his trips, but there were still no changes. Dani was still the same, in deep comma, but not entirely out of the woods.
He was starting to lose hope. What would life be without Danielle? The wetness that dropped on his clasped hands alerted him of the tears escaping his eyes. He wiped them with one of his hands, looking pleadingly at the absent cross. He was aware that his soft sobbing was the only thing filling the silence of the chapel, the hustle and bustle of the city muffled by the chapel's distance afforded by the hill. "Please, God, don't take her. I would do anything. Take me instead. But, please, God, please let Danielle live. I would do anything you ask. Anything…"
The room's temperature suddenly dropped, then flared, filling the room with almost-blinding light as a huge fire appeared at the aisle next to him, sending him reeling back. His eyes didn't move from the fire, transfixed by its unearthly blaze.
It seemed to take hours, when in truth, it was no more than a few seconds, when the flames dimmed and slowly the flames disappeared completely to reveal a woman smiling at him in a manner that can only be described as predatory. "You, my friend, have just uttered the magic words."
"W-who are?" Mike ignored the way his voice croaked. Under the circumstance, that didn't seem to signify. "Is this some TV special?"
She seemed to be confused for a second then she shook her head. "You'll not get off easy by confusing me with modern jargon, Mortal. I've been listening to your pleas the past few hours. It's vastly amusing, I must admit. Saying the same thing to The Big Guy over and over and over at different places. You certainly get points for perseverance. Unfortunately I don't work for that company." She threw her arms to her sides and flames blazed around her. Oddly enough, the wooden pews didn't catch fire when it made contact with her fire. "Lady Sheridan of the Fiery Pit, First Class Demon, guaranteed to grant your ultimate desire."
"You're The Devil?"
She glanced at him irritably. An incensed straightening of her red robe dispelled the flames and she stalked toward him, her green eyes flashing. "I'll skip the theatrics since it's obvious they're not doing their job. Damn, what does it take to shock the modern man I ask you!" She stood before him and looked down, straight into his eyes. "I'm not The Devil, I'm A Demon. The Demon, if you want to be nitpicky about it. The best Demon in the biz. If you haven't clued in on it yet, I work for The Devil." She leaned closer to him until she was whispering into his ears. "I'm also the one who will grant you your most fervent desire."
He stumbled back, the arm holding his weight giving in. He all but crawled away from her. "I—I—I'm engaged! And—and I—I really don't think you're my type, no offense meant. You're beautiful and everything, but I love Dani…"
Sheridan laughed. "Like I would consort with a lowly mortal," she said in between chuckles. "You amuse me. I know all about 'Dani.' I gathered as much from listening to your prayers." She grew serious as she regarded her prey. She would never understand mortals.
Why would they spend so much of their time and energy in saving someone obviously doomed when they can easily find another? Another woman could easily replace this 'Dani' this man cared for very much. And he wouldn't have too hard a time either, she thought, critically eyeing his features. Light brown hair, brown eyes, nice built. More beautiful creatures have graced the planet, yes, but he was nothing to scoff at.
"Are you truly willing to do anything for your beloved Danielle?"
He stared at her. "You mean….."
"Are you willing to forsake your morality? Are you willing to live the rest of your after life in eternal suffering? Are you willing to consign yourself to an eternity of hopelessness, of unending darkness?" The words were uttered softly, like a lover's gentle whispers during love making. Yet he knew they were not promises of paradise. They were the opposite, in fact. And yet.... "Are you willing to sell your soul in exchange of Danielle's life?"
"What a brave, brave little mortal you are," she smirked, holding out a hand to him. "I require a contract in blood. Your soul will be tied to me and it will forever be mine. Are you sure you can resign yourself to an eternity of damnation?"
"For Danielle I can," he replied firmly, placing his palm on her proffered one.
She took his hand and a small flame danced at her fingertip. She used it to open a gash at the middle of his palm. She held him firm until the pain subsided and his wound was bleeding. She did the same to her own palm and looked at him in the eye. "You are mine. Tell me to whom you belong."
"You. I belong to you," he answered, his voice not even wavering. It didn't matter what happened to him. Danielle would live. They would have this life together before he faced the consequence of his actions.
"That's right, you belong to me," she smiled, her eyes blazing as she joined their bleeding palms together. Flames rose from the ground, engulfing them in its fiery hotness, before she released his wrist and, with the same fire-tipped finger from before, closed his wound. It left a faint, almost indiscernible line at the middle of his palm.
He stared at his hand. "Is it over?" he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. After all that has transpired, he was finding everything hard to believe just now. Could a demon really enter a place of worship, never mind it being abandoned? Could one sell his soul in a chapel? Didn't that make the contract void?
Her laughter indicated she read his thoughts. Then she stopped abruptly. "Do not doubt me. The deed is done. And I can assure you, the contract is unbreakable. No force in Heaven or Hell can break it. Unless I choose to, and I don't. I find you amusing, but annoying at times." She was enjoying the sight of him gaping at her. But she didn't appreciate his doubting. "You'll find your lovely Danielle alive and recovering. But first, you'll have to find your way back to the city." With that, he was engulfed in a blaze of fire that, though was hot, didn't burn. He was gone in an instant.
Ishmael appeared next to her, shaking his head. "Ah, Sherry. Where did you send the poor man?"
"The next county. I'd wager it'll take him a few hours to return. You've been watching. You know I do not take to doubts well."
"Allow him some respite, my dear mistress. He has been suffering for more than a month over his fiancée's health. Besides, no doubt you shocked him."
She shrugged. "Point taken. But too late," she erupted in chuckles. "Still, I'll arrange to have him safely returned to the city by dawn tomorrow. Can't have him dying without seeing the fruit of his sacrifice, can we?" She straightened her robe and tucked the stray strands of hair that escaped the unrelenting chignon behind her ear. "Ishmael, I trust you to care for the mortal."
"Well then, let's go home and see if Lucius is done with the sixth Harry Potter book yet. It was too bad Sirius died, don't you think?"
The druid agreed wholeheartedly. "I was hoping he'd live until the end so he and Remus could shack up and shag each other to the next full moon."
She paused and stared at him. "Promise me you'll not bring any more of your lovers with you when you clean my chamber. I don't mind that you're a…what is that term they use nowadays?"
"Gay? Homo? Fag?"
"Gay. I don't mind. I wouldn't have saved you from the fire for doing that thing with the other druid, but I really draw the line at role-playing on my bed. And howling. Have a mind to close the doors at least."
The blonde teen was blushing to the roots of his hair. "M'sorry."
"Oh, and you can kept he bed, too. I'm having another one delivered this afternoon. I'm sure you and Remy will enjoy it," she quipped before disappearing a fiery blaze. "And keep the sheets too. There were suspicious stains on it when I checked."
With a delighted chuckle of his own, he followed her, disappearing with a slow swirling of orange flames. Trust Sherry to make light of a serious sacrilege of her beloved four-poster. But only she would laugh at the incident of catching her servant and his lover on her bed. And rewarding them for the amusement of it with the very bed and sheets they were caught on. Ishmael was happy things were back to normal.
His mistress was even back on the job no more than a month and a half since Waking. Things were back to normal indeed.
The car stopped in front of the hospital and Mike turned to the young man next to him. "Thanks, man. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't offered the ride. You're a savior."
Indeed he was. Mike must've wandered to one of the shrines outside the city yesterday. Exhaustion must've caught up with him because when he woke up, he was sprawled outside St. Paul's Chapel with no recollection of how that happened. He recalled vaguely a rather bizarre dream about a lady in red promising him eternal damnation. He was just panicking at the realization that his wallet and cellphone were missing when Drew pulled over and asked him if he was lost. The kid had been driving around and had passed by him several times already. He didn't seem like the typical homeless hobo so he figured he needed help.
"Hey, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, 'kay? I can never repay you for this," he said, nodding his thanks to the blond as he stepped out of the car. "God bless."
Drew grinned at him from behind the wheel and nodded, making a peace sign. "I'm sure I'll see you around, Mikey. Sooner than you think. 'Til then, God bless."
He had a nagging feeling that Drew was making fun of him as he watched the boy speed away. Must've been the 'God bless,' he thought. Many people were teased for keeping the faith. With a teenager like Drew, he wouldn't be surprised if the blond idolized gods found in MTV. But the guy's decent anyway, to have offered a ride to a complete stranger.
ICU was his immediate destination. He knew there was a possibility that Dani's condition remained the same, but it was a 50-50 chance. She could be awake now. The hope fluttering in his chest was growing strong, matching each heartbeat. Please, Danielle….
He stood frozen at the door, his eyes fixed on bed number 6, a white sheet draped over the head. No. That can't be right. A voice was insistent in his head, telling him Danielle was alive. She should've been smiling at him upon entry.
He slowly approached the bed. He hadn't realized he stopped breathing until he reached the bed. Taking huge calming breaths, he reached to uncover the beautiful face of the woman he loved. His fingers shook but he paid it no heed.
"Mr. Simmons!" Dr. Murphy, an interne assigned to the ER and ICU, exclaimed, draping an arm around his shoulder and giving him a friendly pat on the arm. "What're you still doing here? Congratulations, by the way! Miss Langley gave us all a fright, but your prayers pulled her through!"
He stared at him. "Danielle's alive?"
"She was moved to Room 136 late last night. Miss Plythe is with her right now. A miraculous recovery, one of the rarest I've seen!" The older man smiled kindly at him. "It was your prayers, Mr. Simmons. Your prayers saved her life."
He was filled with mingled relief and jubilation. "Thank you, Doctor. Your efforts certainly helped. Helped a lot. The Lord looks over his people. I knew He would save Dani." When it was finally sinking in that he was standing by a dead stranger's bed, he shook his head and grinned. It was too bad about the patient departing, but he was with the good Lord now. In the meantime, "room 136, you say?"
"Go see her. I'm sure she's anxious to talk to you."
Mike all but ran to Dani's room. Outside the door, he paused and took a deep breath. What would he say to her? He didn't even think to stop by the gift shop to buy flowers. He was debating whether or not to get her some blossoms, when the door opened and Sally blinked at him.
"Oh. You're here. I've been trying to call you, but the woman who answered said you're not around to take the call."
He stared at her. Woman? What woman? "I was mugged…I think. My wallet and phone's gone." He offered her a boyish smile. "Is she awake?"
She regarded him with thinly veiled disdain. He was only then realizing Sally didn't like him very much, not even from the start. Her only concern was Dani, which was okay, but he didn't see a very bright future for the both of them getting along well, especially when she's taken to growling at him upon sight. "She is. I'll leave you some time with her. You both have a lot to talk to." Her grin was absolutely feral when she said that. She stepped aside to let him pass. "Guess this'll be the last time we'll be seeing each other. It was fun while it lasted."
"Dani?" he called out tentatively, stepping into the pristine room and closing the door behind him, the unnatural light in Sally's eyes still fresh in his mind.
She was sitting on the bed, her long honeycombed hair braided in a rope and draped over one shoulder. She smiled at him as he entered. She seemed to fragile, ready to break with the faintest touch. Her skin was too place, her head swatted in bandages. "Hello, Michael."
He was at her side in an instant, taking one of her small hands into his bigger ones. He brought it to his lips and kissed her palm. "Thank God you're all right. I prayed night and day for Him to heal you."
"Don't scare me like that again. I don't think I can live with the same kind of fear. Dani, you have no idea what the past month has been. Every single day…not knowing whether you'd wake up or sleep forever. Oh, Dani, I was so scared." He pressed her hand to his face and closed his eyes, hardly able to believe she was alright, that she was going to recover. "We'll move the wedding until you're fully recovered. Everything will be perfect, Dani. We'll be together."
She pulled her hand free and looked away. "About that. This…thing…made me realize how fleeting life is. One second you're happy and carefree, the next you're lying on a hospital bed fighting for your life. Life is too short for regrets."
"You want to move the wedding sooner?"
Danielle shook her head. "I feel so bad. You've been so good to me. All these years you've taken care of me. You loved me for so long, Mike, and I can never repay that. I know I'm being selfish, but I don't want to waste this second chance I'm given. I want to be happy." It was she who took his hands into hers this time. "I love you, but I'll never love you the way you love me. It's unfair to you. And to me. We both deserve to be happy."
"You've just woken up, Dani. You need time to think things through. I won't mention this again until you're ready. Let's not be hasty."
She shook her head. "Sally and I talked things through. It's not the meds. I'm simply being honest. For once, let me do the right thing." There was strength in her hold despite her apparent weakness. "Don't pull away, not yet. Let's part as friends."
He stared at her, shock and hurt settling deep in his gut. Was it something he did? Didn't do? Wasn't his love enough? "Is…is it me?"
She shook her head sadly and reached toward him to brush away the tears he hadn't realized that were escaping his eyelids. "No. It's me. I can never love you that way because my heart already belongs to someone else. It took me a near-brush with death to realize I can't deny my feelings. I'm so sorry, Mike."
He was in a vacuum. The glass panes shut out the sounds from down the street, the drapes barring any light from entering the dark bedroom. Mike was seated at the edge of the bed, staring unblinkingly at the silver cross on the wall. Three days had passed since Danielle broke off their engagement and after much deliberation, it still didn't make sense to him. Locked in his dark bedroom seemed to fit him perfectly, being so blind until now.
It's Sally I love, she had said.
Of course he was not ignorant of such relationships. They were against the Lord's laws, but who was he to judge them? He just didn't think his fiancée was among the deviants.
The door burst open and light streamed in from the lighted hallway. "God damn! You'd think someone died in here with the way you're going!"
He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, trying to make out the interloper's identity. Images of a woman engulfed by flames flashed in his mind. Vaguely he recalled a pact he made what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Are you the Devil?"
Sherry looked at him and frowned. "We've been through this before. I work for the Devil. I'm a demon…demoness, if you wanna be feminist-y about it. You sold me your soul, remember? In exchange of Danielle Langley's life?"
"It really happened?" he exclaimed, eyes widening as he stood up in renewed shock. "It wasn't a dream?"
"Okay, stop. This is doing nothing for me. Get a grip, man! Move on! The girl's a dyke and you're damned. Nothing to it. Pick up the shattered pieces of your miserable life and go on until you meet your timely end then I can collect my prize."
"What life? Danielle is—was—my life! I have nothing to live for now that she's gone!"
"Jesus Christ! You're pathetic! Next you'll beg me to kill you so you can stop angsting over that lezbo. I know, shit, right? You sell your soul for her and she leaves you for the alternative lifestyle. That's gratitude for you. Boohoo." She shook her head, letting out a disgusted sigh. "You need some sense slapped into you. Bitch-slapped, preferably. Let me get my assistant." She turned to leave, muttering to herself. "First Class Demon and I'm lowering myself to consoling a rejected mortal? What's this century coming into? Where have the good ol' barbarians gone? Give me a Visigoth over a modern man any day." She stepped into the hallway and bellowed, hands on her silk-encased hips. "ISHMAEL! Ishmael!" she called out again, frowning. "Fine time screwing Remy's brains to oblivion. Teenage hormones, God damn!"
"Don't…don't take the Lord's name in vain," he said softly, looking at her with barely-concealed apprehension.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Wouldn't want to break the Lord's commandments now, do we?" she rolled her eyes. Then she chuckled. "God, you're cute when you're stupid. Want me to hook you up with a woman? To take your mind off the dyke? Ophelia showed me this catalogue last night. The club's just teeming with virgins desperate for cash. Need to pay off debts, I'm told. So? I know you guys prize virginity; never mind they're inexperienced, ergo bo-ring. With your type, you'll definitely go for innocence and naivety. Does that get you off? Or do you like it dirty?"
Mike stared at her as if she had sprouted horns. Or maybe she has them, he just couldn't see. She was a demon after all.
"ISHMAEL! WHERE ARE YOU?" she bellowed. "He'd better not be with that sociopath. I leave you in his care and what does he do? He fornicates with the terrorist." She turned to him. "So? Virgins or tramps?" A suspicious-looking volume materialized on her upturned palm in a blaze of fire. She leafed through them with half-hearted interest. "Number 699 seems ok." she read the brief description and talents beneath the provocative picture. "Open to role-playing, experiments and doesn't mind two or more joining the fun. Sounds great, doesn't she?" she glanced at his horrified expression. "Not your type? You prefer blondes? Oh, right, Ms. Lezbo's blonde. Hmm…4334 looks great. Pretty face, long blonde hair—it's even the same color as Dani's—epic boobs." She studied the picture closely. "On second thought, she looks like Sally and Dani's lovechild. Especially that smile. Pure Sally. Don't think you're keen on that," she paused, "are you?"
"I'm not 'keen' on 'hooking up' with any of the girls you're suggesting—"
"Fine, you choose then! Just trying to be supportive and all. See if I console you next time your heart shatters into a million brittle pieces." She threw the catalogue at him and looked at him expectedly. "But, you know," she began, crossing her arms over her chest regarding him coolly, "you should go for the ones who're open to toys and role-playing. 189 and 395 are really good, I've been told."
"Why are you doing this anyway? 'Consoling' me? Aren't you supposed to mercilessly taunt me or something to that effect?"
"You kinky bastard! Why didn't you say so?" she exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "Number 189 likes S&M." However, as she teased him and he continuously rebuffed her attempts, she wondered at his question. Why was she amused so much by this mortal? Normally she relegated observation-duties to Ishmael, but when she found out the woman he sold his soul for dumped him in favor of another woman, she simply had to see him and poke fun at his misfortune.
"If it's any consolation, they're both going to burn in hell for their love."
He was staring at her again. It seemed staring and blinking was all he was capable of doing. The recent events of his life seemed too bizarre. Days have already passed but none of it had fully sunk in yet. A small part of his brain was still saying the woman standing just outside his bedroom was a figment of his imagination. He was slowly going mad, Danielle's dumping turning him insane.
"It's against God's law, right? It's unnatural, their love." She could've been discussing the schedule for the hourly Assyrian skinning of prisoners; her tone couldn't be more dispassionate. "Your bible says so. Leviticus. Suuuuuch abomination."
"You really think they'll burn in the fires of Hell?" Another man might've felt better at the revelation, but not him. He still loved her, after all. If he could spare her that pain, he could.
"Yeah, sure. You'd be surprised how many people from San Fo arrive by the second. Queers, the lot of them. Though they get over it pretty soon when they realize they share space with the football players." ::1::
"It's not nice to tease someone when he's serious," he turned away from her with a snort, ignoring the catalogue she had thrown at him, resisting the temptation of even just a peek. The woman dressed as a librarian complete with gilt-frame glasses looked hot though.
"Hello? That's why it's called teasing. And nice? I'm a demon. Something's wrong when we're being nice."
"So something's wrong now?"
She was spared from answering his question by the arrival of Ishmael who just came through the front door. "This is the last time I'm walking to McDonald's!" he exclaimed, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it over the couch. "It's delivery or starvation next time, I swe…Sherry! What're you doing here?"
"Checking up on my latest acquisition. What were you doing not being here?"
"Don't get your ancient panties in a twist," he held up the bags in his hands. "I ran to McDonalds for food. I thought Mr. Dumped here," he titled his head to the bedroom's direction, "could use some food." He made his way to the kitchen and placed the goods on the table. "If I'd known you'd be here, I would've ordered more nuggets."
"That's okay, I can have your share," she replied brightly. One thing she absolutely loved about the modern world was their food though it lacked the necessary violence in acquiring it the way barbarians battled to death for a piece of meat. She had already gone through Burger King's menu last week. She was finding Ronald McD her favorite, if the number of times Ishmael orders for her was any indication. She looked at the brooding man in the darkened bedroom. "Pause from angsting and eat. Or not, I can have your big Mac then."
When Mike came to the kitchen, the picture that greeted him was a postcard of Oddity. Sheridan was dressed in her red and black silk gown, her hair in its secure chignon, few tendrils escaping to frame her face and soften her features. She was devouring a huge serving of chicken McNuggets while a familiar figure in ripped jeans and black KISS shirt placed a big-sized coke in front of her.
"I got some burger and fries for you, wasn't sure what you wanted so I got some chicken as well," the blond said, pausing to take a huge bit off his Big Mac. "Sherry's got the fries, though."
"That time at St. Paul…?"
"Word of advice, never doubt Sherry. Coke or root beer?"
"Root beer, thanks," he replied, collapsing on one of the seats of his four-placer. "I shouldn't be surprised, but how did you get in? And know where I live?"
"Took you long enough to ask that," the brunette grinned from across him, reaching for her Coke. "Secrets of the Trade, can't tell." Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata filling the air reminded Mike of Dani. It was her favorite.
Sherry took out a very familiar cellphone and answered with an irritated sigh. "Sheridan." One of her eyebrows raised and she nodded. "Uh-huh…are you sure? Alright…hey, it's not my fault incubuses can't think past orgasm! Ask Ophelia, she's the sexpert, not I!" She rolled her eyes. "I'll send one of the banshees to check—no, I do not want to go with you. Partner my ass. We've been through this before. Neither will I go with your friend Seamus. I don't care if you call me a racist, I don't date leprechauns!" She listened to the caller with ill-repressed impatience. "Just check for bodies, okay? I'll go when I'm good and ready. Unless you want the banshee to premonition your death. Good. Bye."
She placed the metallic device on the table then glared at Ishmael. "Didn't I tell you not to give my number to Tom? That creature is mad! He thinks by going out with Seamus I'll change my mind and think the world of him. Logically, he's correct, of course. Compared to the Irish Legend, he's the perfect man. Hasn't the past five hundred years taught him anything? If I wanted things to be serious, I wouldn't have broken it off at Mary's beheading!" ::1::
Placing a hand to her temple and gently massaging it, she took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. "Ooookay. Ishmael, I'm leaving to oversee the Red District. Some incubuses have been careless of late, leaving bodies conspicuously behind. It's good for causing alarm and distress and all that hoopla, but they're giving me a bad name. Sloppiness is unacceptable on my turf. I'm gonna have a talk with Ohpelia about her girls. In the meantime, prepare my room. I like the one with the big window facing the city. And you'd better not tell anyone else where I'll be except for Lucius. I'll ward off the area so we can't be traced. Tom is an accomplished stalker, that freak." She washed the meal down with Coke then stood up, grabbing the phone and smiling at the novelist.
"You can help Ishmael move things, but I think you're better off working on your revisions. Your editor called and she was rather elated when I told her Danielle dumped you. 'Maybe now Mike can focus on his work rather than on that spoiled dyke.' That was all a direct quotation. Seems like Dani's secret wasn't much of a secret after all. Though I think she knew about Dani 'cause they hang out at the same exclusive lezzie bar. Well, then, I'll be off now."
He was staring at the now-empty space before him even as the last flame put itself out. Drew, or Ishmael, as Sheridan called him, gave him a pat on the arm. "I wouldn't take it personally. Imposing isn't her only fault, I can tell you that. She can be petty, mean, cruel and all that other stuff, but Sherry has her moments. You'll just have to put up with us until she finds something new to amuse her."
"Am I a toy then?" he bit out indignantly. He wasn't having a nice life at the moment, he didn't appreciate Sherry playing with him. Not that he had any way of striking back. He didn't think fire extinguishers would be much help against the demon.
"Oh, no. You're hers, that's all there is. Sherry may be a lot of things, most of them negative, but she takes care of what is hers. Everything seems bad right now, but eventually it'll straighten out and you'll see. She will protect you."
Ishmael couldn't be more loyal to his mistress, Mike realized. He remembered her suggestions of taking a temporary bed partner to comfort him. Her methods could use some help and she could've tried to seem more concerned, but the sentiment was there. She had tried.
Then the meaning of her instructions to the blonde came back. His eyes widened. "Wait a minute. What she said just now…don't to tell me…"
"Howdy, roommate," Ishmael grinned, popping a French fry in his mouth.
::1:: it's against God's law to touch pig skin or so it says on Lev.
::2:: I'm referring to Mary Queen of Scots, beheaded by order of Elizabeth I.
Disclaimers: I'm sure I'm gonna be joining the residents of San Fo and the players of NFL, but hey, this is just a story. This isn't an attack against Christianity or anything, but if you find poking fun at Christian beliefs and practices offensive, please, there's the back button. There's no invisible force compelling you to keep on reading. Abomination and satanic rituals abound, be warned. ::grin::
Nah, I'm just messing with ya. But seriously, don't diss me for writing this story, however, that's your prerogative, just as it's mine to post this. Flames are very much welcome. They'll be used to keep the satanic pyres burning. And if anyone's wondering, I'm a non-practicing-slash-agnostic Catholic. I'll probably have to confess these unholy habits of writing about dear ol' Papa Red and stuff when I have to face the horror of confession, but I've been avoiding that for three years now. I'll just queue this sin until I have to face the priest like I always do, hmm? Please don't forget to review. It's good to know how many more souls I've corrupted with my work. ;p