Undefiled Sin

Chapter 1

In the dead of night, no one saw the murder take place. Although all of nature slumbered in silence, no one heard the young boy's screams. Over and over, knives stabbed into his flesh until blood soaked his clothes and dyed the stone of the courtyard a savage crimson. The poor, naive, creature had walked right into a trap. Although he possessed an incredible amount of spiritual power, he hadn't sensed the predators until it was too late. The men jumped at him like rabid bloodhounds, their teeth shining in the moonlight as they smiled with malice. At first, he tried to fight. A valiant effort for one so small. He cursed and threatened; growled and scratched; bit and kicked. Valiant, indeed - but, futile. In the end, all he could do was scream in pain.

"I'll kill you! All of you! Damn you to hell! I'll rip you apart if you touch me!"

The demon had been prepared to walk away from the scene when he felt the vengeful pulsing of the boy's spirit. Perhaps it was the particular flavor of his threats that gave the him pause. He didn't beg for mercy - didn't degrade himself by calling out for help. The frail boy that he expected to howl like a cornered animal instead chose to fight to his last breath. Such strength was uncommon in his species. Such will gave the soul a divine aroma rarely found in this century. The demon licked his lips. He could already imagine the aftertaste of such a meal and the euphoria that would follow, especially if his soul was spiced with spiritual energy. Amused at the thought, the demon jumped up on a nearby rooftop, his high-heeled boots not making a single sound even on the rough, brown, shingles. Spectacular. He could see everything clearly from this angle.

Below, the boy was subjected to things that other humans would dub horrific. He made a bet, then. If the men left at least a piece of him intact, he would go down and take a closer look. If not, then he would simply walk away and continue searching for something else to pass the time. Perhaps a lovesick maiden would sell her soul for love; then again, the ones with murder and mayhem on their minds tasted much sweeter. He pondered this as the young priest continued to fight for his life. The moon reached its peak in the sky by the time they finally finished with him. Sharp eyes watched the bloodhounds leave their prey. They continued to laugh among themselves as they disappeared around a darkened corner. Taking his time, the demon made his way towards the place where the priest's small, mangled, body lay. His ocean-blue eyes were open, staring in a vague direction. Though his pupils were dilated and his chest unmoving, the demon could hear a faint heart beat. Kneeling down, he whispered to his mind.

Are you in pain?

Silence.

Are you suffering?

No reply.

Come now, speak. Or have you given up on living?

Nothing - just the fading beating of a fragile, human, heart. How boring - he thought. And here he'd wasted all this time waiting for this opportunity. Just as he prepared to turn around and continue on his way, he heard a faltering sound.

"I'll...kill...all of them...kill them...kill..."

But, you are dying. How do you plan on killing anyone? Your body is broken.

"Kill...kill...tear them...burn..." He coughed; a few drops of blood landed on the demon's cheek. A forked tongue darted out and lapped up the fluid. The shadow hissed. The taste...oh the taste! He'd been right about this boy. His soul was ripe for the picking. Its spiritual energy alone would give him immense power. Invigorated now, he pressed on.

What if I told you that I could help you find your vengeance?

"Demon..." the young priest sputtered with obvious disgust.

Yes.

"Evil..."

Yes.

"Hurts..."

Let me ease your pain.

"Don't..." he protested when the demon tried to numb his senses. With halting movements, he raised his head and tried to look down at his ravaged body. What he saw must have terrified him, for his breathing halted. "Bas...tards...hate...them..."

Yes. That's right. Hate. Can you feel it tugging at your soul? Can you feel how it keeps you alive although you should be dead? I want that hatred, priest. I want to fulfill your desires.

Focusing on taking a more tangible form, the demon withdrew some of the shadows surrounding his body. His skin lightened from a pitch black to a pale white. A bewitching human face appeared from the swirling shade. Long-fingered and delicate hands with nails as black as soot soon followed. Slitted, ruby eyes glowed with the demon's excitement. Just a little more. The boy just needed one more push and he would be his.

I want to help you. Take me. Use me as you wish. I will not stop until your enemies are eradicated.

"How?"

The price is steep, but the rewards will be worth the suffering.

"My...soul..."

Indeed. Imagine how your enemies will tremble before you. Imagine how those who have wronged you will beg for mercy. Don't you want to see that? Don't you want to make them experience the pain they've unjustly bestowed upon you?

"Yes...kill them..."

Then call me to you and we shall have a contract. State your terms.

When the boy struggled to speak, the demon reached into his body and mended his bruised throat.

Say it.

"You will become my...sword. You will never bet...ray me, lie to me, hurt me, or leave me. You will...safeguard my life and obey my commands. Until my revenge is carried out, you will be bound to me. Afterwards, you may...do as you wish...with my immortal soul."

Very good. Let us seal our bond, then, little priest.

Shadowed fingers reached out, sinking deep into one of the boy's eye sockets. Without the demon's assistance, he didn't even have enough strength to scream in agony. Holding up his other hand, the shadow watched his true name appear on the back of his hand surrounded by the sign of binding. The same symbol burned itself into his new master's eye. Carefully - with a gentleness uncharacteristic of a monster - the demon withdrew his claws and brushed a few strands of blue-grey hair away from the priest's face. With a crooked, lustful, smile of pure anticipation, the demon leaned forward and covered the boy's lips with his own. He tasted divinely sweet - like blood, raw power, and purity combined.

"Call my name," the demon murmured heatedly against his master's lips.

"Name...?" he asked, confused.

"Name me, so that I might serve you and always hear your call." Drunk on the heady scent of hovering death and the thrill of the feast to come, the demon lapped at the edges of the young priest's wounds, healing them and heightening his own ecstasy. Whether from the pain or from the pleasure of the devil's sinister embrace, the boy moaned raggedly, a name tumbling from his trembling lips:

"Se...Sebastian..."

OOOO