Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

42 :: JOHN R. MABRY
the depths of Hell. He who commands you is he who dominated
the sea, the wind, and the storms....”
The demon writhed at the touch of the water, which stung
his skin like acid and filled the air with the sick stench of
burning flesh. “You suck the cocks of anonymous men in
bathhouses!” The demon howled, and a new voice emerged,
one that sounded like the massed buzzing of a billion flies.
“Who are you to command me?!”
Richard faltered, and shame rushed in. The demon saw his
opening and pounced. “You lust after countless women each
day. Your lust is a stain upon your soul that no sacrament
can absolve! It is a sickness that ravages you, body and spirit.
You’d fuck old men and bunnies if you could! You’d fuck
anything that moves!”
Terry clapped his hands to get Richard’s attention,
“Dicky! Don’t argue! Don’t listen! Half-truths are the doorways
to the Lie! Richard! Focus!”
“The Voice. It’s the Voice....” Mikael breathed, as all color
drained from his face.
Richard’s eyes narrowed and he did not refute the demon.
He could bear all that was true, he knew, and he could let go
of the rest. He did, in fact, find bunnies oddly, even erotically
alluring. His voice, once he had cleared the phlegm born
of sudden emotion, was commanding. “Hear, therefore, and
tremble, Duunel, servant of the enemy of the Earth! Enemy
of the Faith! Enemy of the human race! Source of death!
Robber of life! Twister of justice! Root of evil!...”
Instantly every glass item in the room shattered. The windows
descended in sheets of minute, sharp shards and the
plastic IV bags exploded, showering the room in saline solution.
Mikael covered his face and dove to avoid the hail of
glass. The demon was just reacting, not thinking, Richard
thought, as the falling salt water caused it even further distress.
He set his face with grim satisfaction and raised his
voice above the din.