The Devil's Pact - S01 E239

Story 3 months ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E239

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 239

"Eh, yes," I answered. Tea wasn't my thing, but didn't want to be rude. Not when I was here to ask a favor

She grabbed a porcelain tea pot, steam rising from the spout, and set two porcelain cups before us, pouring the fragrant tea. "Now. you said you were interested in a book, no?" she asked in her heavy, French accent, spooning sugar into her tea. She savored the aroma of the tea and then took a sip.

"Yes, it is called the Magicks of the Witch of Endor," I answered.

"And why would you want that book, Monsieur Fitzsimmons?"

"Academic research," I lied. "I have an interest in esoteric texts."

A dangerous smile appeared on the Mother Superior's face. "And what is the real reason, sir?"

"Like I said..." Her dark eyes stared at me, suddenly so ancient and wise, pinning me to my seat. How could you lie to a soul that old. I swallowed, trying to think but it was hard. "My wife was taken by a Warlock. A vile man named Mark Glassner."

She cocked her head, eying me, peering into my soul like a scientist peering at a germ beneath his microscope. "Yes, that is a truth, not the whole truth."

"No, just want to get back my wife," protested as her eyes bore into me. "Okay, and to get some payback against Mark. But the bastard stole my wife from me. Made her...be his whore." The surveillance photos Doug Allard took flashed through my mind of Desiree fucking Mark, Mary, the SWAT officers, and all those other women in my house.

"And if you had this book you would, what, defeat Mark and free your wife? And then what would you do? Nothing?" she asked pointedly. "No, I do not think so. I can see the ambition, the lust for power in your soul. You did not come here for Desiree, that is the lie you tell yourself. You came here for power."

"Of course I want to free my wife!" I shouted, slamming my fist.

"And I need power to do it!"

"Why?" she asked. "Your wife does not love you. Deep down you have always known it. She married you for your money and you married Desiree for her beauty. No, you want what Mark has. You are jealous of his power, lust after for, want it for your very own."

"No, I love my wife," protested. I mean, I always had lingering doubts about Desiree's motivation to marry me. But, I loved her. She was so gorgeous, so generous, how could I not love her.

"Like you loved your first wife?"

Why was she bringing up that slut. My eyebrows furrowed as I puzzled out her intentions. "I did love her," I carefully said, "until she whored around behind my back and made me look like a complete idiot."

"And is that why you beat her?"

Fuck, how could she know that. Something burned my hand and I realized my fist was shaking so badly, tea spilling onto my hand. "She didn't listen," I protested, setting down the tea cup. "If she only listened, I wouldn't have had to...correct her."

That fucking smile played on the bitch's lips and those eyes seemed to spear right through me, like I was dirt. "And how long would it have been before Desiree would need...correction?" she asked.

My anger was burning Inside me. How did this cunt know anything about Maryanne. This fucking slut was standing in the way of me and rescuing my Desiree. My fists were itching. Maybe this bitch needed some...correcting. My eyes glanced to the counter and the block of knives. That would show the bitch.

"Just let me have the book and I'll do what you fucking nuns can't seem to do!" My anger exploded out of me and my fist slammed into the table. A mocking laugh escaped her lips. Not fear, not surprise, but derision and dismissal. The gall of this bitch. She doesn't even respect the fact I could leap over this table and beat her bloody. Or grab one of those knives and really teach her a lesson.

"There is that darkness that drove Maryarine right into the arms of her lover."

"She was a whore!" I growled. "I gave her everything! Every goddamn thing the cunt wanted."

"All she wanted was a husband who didn't beat her," Maryam calmly answered, sipping her tea. "Go, Monsieur Fitzsimmons, there is nothing for you here."

The knives were just a few feet away. Let see this bitch refuse me when I have a knife at her throat, the bitch will respect me then. Just get up and grab the knife, Brandon. Don't let this cunt stand between you and your wife. Take control of your destiny! Her fucking eyes were boring into me. Maybe I'll cut those fucking eyes out. Make me feel like an insect, cunt. You can't do that without any eyes.

I bolted up, the chair falling backwards, as I reached for the knife. The bitch didn't even move, save to sip her tea. The wooden handle was cold and hard and the blade rasped as I pulled it out of the block. Her fucking eyes still bored into me, like I was some piece of filth, a fucking annoying insect. Fine, if I'm an insect, here is my stinger. I lounged forward, stabbing at the bitch.

Motion blurred from the right, pain flared in my right hand and the knife clattered to the floor. A tall man, young and fit, stood next to me, his hand iron on my arm as he squeezed. I groaned in pain, falling to my knees. I looked into the man's face, full of righteous anger. There was something familiar about his face, about his blue eyes. If he was older, maybe, and wore glasses. And if he was balding and had a fat face.

"Doug?" I moaned through gritted teeth. No, that was impossible. This man could be Doug's son, certainly, but not my P.I., Doug. I mean, Doug was in his forties and this man was at most eighteen or nineteen and easily seventy pounds lighter than Doug, with a full head of hair and a chiseled jaw.

"Brandon, I should rip your head off," the man growled, his voice sound just like Doug's. Maybe a little less gravelly. It was Doug. But how? "Did you even think for a moment what would happen to me when you sent those photos to the media."

"Wh-why would that b-be a problem?" I stammered. "Please, you're hurting me, Doug."

"Because Mark captured me," the impossibly young Doug growled. "He sent me to kill you, Brandon! Did you give one fucking thought about me. I could be dead right now, no thanks to you."

"I told you he was dangerous," squeaked in protested. "Besides, how could he find you?"

"Any idiot could figure out where those pictures were taken from!" Doug snarled, squeezing harder. Fuck, it felt like my bone was about to snap. "You put me in danger. Mark easily could have gone after my wife! But you were too selfish to even give one damned thought about me."

"I didn't think..." I started to say, gasping in pain as Doug started to twist.

"Doug, release him." Maryam calmly said.

The iron grip vanished and I got back to my feet backing away from Doug and the hatred burning in his blue eyes. "Do not come back, Brandon," Doug warned.

"Monsieur Fitzsimmons, I give you this warning," Maryam stated. "I know you plan to go to Cologne and get the copy of the book in the possession of Altgrave Bernard. Only pain and suffering lies down that road, Brandon. Forget the Warlock Mark Glassner, forget your possessive lust for Desiree and try and live your life with love. Otherwise, I'm afraid, it is the Pit for you."

What did this cunt know of anything. I would have my sweet Desiree back. And freed of Mark Glassner's control, she would love me again. And I will make Mark Glassner pay for stealing her. Then Doug would pay, he obviously told the cunt all about my first wife. And finally, the fucking cunt herself. Maryam, with her name was so close to Maryanne's, and just as much of a bitch as my ex-wife, would pay for treating me like a piece of dirt. She would pay for making me feel like a powerless Insect on her food.

Oh, she will fucking pay!

"You should have let me kill him," I growled as Brandon Fitzsimmons fled the Motherhouse.

"No, that is not the way," Maryam replied sharply. "We should not raise a hand against are fellow men unless we must."

"And if he gets that other book, if he learns its secrets?" I demanded. I understood just the level of evil Brandon could cause. He would get Mark Glassner's power but with ten times the ambition that Mark possessed. So much had been revealed to me last night after I was given the Gift. By Maryam and latter by the Angel Sophia in my dreams.

My cock stirred at the memory of the Angel. She shone like bronze as her naked body pressed against me. Her merest touch was enough to cause my cock to spurt and when her pussy embraced my dick, I kept cumming and cumming with every plunge into her tight, wet hole. The Ecstasy it was called, for the touch of an Angel was pure bliss.

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