The Devil's Pact - S01 E332

Story 13 hours ago

The Devil's Pact - S01 E332

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 332

All our friends and family paced around the hole or stood in worried knots. Mark's mother and sister looked sick with worry and the sluts all clung around Alison, encouraging the girl that Desiree was safe and she would be reunited with her wife. I saw Rachel and Jacob, our accountants, holding each other. Their wife Leah is our chauffeur and was with Mark when the attack happened. Images of our dead bodyguards were being shown on the news, along with Mark's beating. But there was no news on Leah or Violet. I hoped that meant they escaped, but I feared that they were dead.

"Are we ready," I demanded impatiently of Sam. Every minute we delayed was another minute that my husband was getting beaten.

"Yes," Sam answered. "Light it."

The hole was piled with brush and soaked in gasoline. Duncan lit a rag and tossed it into the pit. The fire had a greasy smell, and a sickly, black smoke that burned my eyes rose up into the sky. Sam closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Her plaything, Candy, sat next to her, holding Sam's olive hand. Sam was our Vizier. She understood all the magic better than anyone, even inventing a few spells and charms all on her own.

I had a plan. I was going to take a Nun's powers and exorcise Brandon. He wanted me. All of his broadcasts contained his threat to beat Mark until I turned myself in. He wanted to make me his slut, just like Mark had made his wife Desiree our slut. All I had to do was submit to his lusts and exorcise him, and then this would all be over.

But I needed to know one important fact-if Brandon had a sister, he could perform the Mowdah spell and be able to recognize my new aura. Right now my aura was red, a Warlock's aura, but after I steal the Nun's Gift of the Spirit, my aura would turn bronze. Just like Mark's had; the aura of a Shaman. The Magicks of the Witch of Endor spoke at great length on aura colors, including the Shaman's. I needed confirmation that my plan would work.

I needed necromancy.

"Spirits of the dead, I beseech you," Sam shouted out, holding her arms above the fire as she began the Naba ritual. It was supposed to be very dangerous. If you conjured the wrong spirit, one filled with violence or hatred, it could lash out and hurt the summoner, and since your life-force sustained the summoning, it placed a great strain on you. If you maintained it too long, you could even die. "Appear before me. Rise once more from the grave and clothe yourself in smoke and fire and give us your counsel!"

The ground groaned in pain and the fire surged upward with a screaming roar. The heat was so intense that it caused me to wince and slam my eyes shut in pain. My skin felt like it was about to blacken beneath the roaring inferno Sam conjured, and my heart hammered in fear. Something had gone wrong, Sam had messed up and unleashed an inferno that is consuming us. Then there was a great, moaning whoosh and the heat vanished.

Everything went still, quiet. Deathly.

The sun no longer felt warm on my back, felt a growing chill that seemed to seep up from the hole. Cold, clammy air caressed my naked body. I shivered, opening my eyes, to see a figure coalescing out of the thick, black smoke rising up from the depths of the earth. From the depths of Hell.

The smoke was swirling towards the coalescing shape, thickening it. A torso grew, sprouting arms and legs like tendrils from a vine. A dome appeared, swelling up into a head. The smoke kept swirling in and the billowy figure grew more and more solid. The lines of a body started to appear, legs grew firm and slim, hips narrowed, and the hint of a bosom formed. Wispy hair sprouted curly from the head and the features of the face grew more defined, a doll's face with plump lips.

My heart froze, knew that face.

My eyes watered in grief as Karen spoke, "Hello, Mistress." Her voice was soft, distant. Ethereal. It was like she was shouting from a thousand miles away, a million miles. Farther away than the Moon, the Sun, all the stars in the heavens. It seemed that all of existence lay between us, a vast gulf that her voice was somehow just able to cross.

"Karen," my voice broke; tears rolled wet down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Karen."

"Don't be, Mistress," Karen whispered. "It was not your fault. That vile creature tricked you."

"Are you in pain? Does it hurt where you are?"