Satan's Hunger

4

Kaitlyn stood in the middle of Satan's room, aghast.

It looked like a tornado had torn the place apart. The lizard-skin chair was standing like a burnt husk in front of the empty fireplace. Bits of furniture littered the floor: timber, shredded fabric, posts and drawers. The window was smashed, allowing the screams of the Damned to echo loudly around the room. Even some of the volcanic rock floor itself had been torn up, as though someone had gouged at it with a heavy pick. And as for the bed—there was nothing left of it but its marble frame. The mattress with its black sheets was gone, simply gone. The drapes were ripped and hanging in pieces. The candelabra had fallen down and now rested like a broken crown on the frame's slats. Along the walls the torches were lit, but only the few that remained, the rest wrenched from their brackets and lying discarded on the floor.

She spun around on the spot, unable to believe her eyes. What had happened?

She stopped at the sight of a figure standing in the corner, concealed in shadow. Kaitlyn stepped back, for a moment thinking of the demon with the long, gangly arms and backward knees. Then it stepped out of the shadows. It was only Satan. Only Satan—she could have almost laughed. Though his face was concealed by the hood of his red gown, it could only be him. She knew his figure. She knew his posture and the way he moved. Just as well as she knew Jacob.

Kaitlyn remembered how Satan had screamed after her in her last dream. She remembered the fear in his face. For the first time, he'd shown real fear. She trembled at the thought of what he could do to her now, of how he might make her pay for what she'd done. He pushed back his hood, gazing at her with his bright blue eyes. His handsome face was unreadable, though his eyes seemed to gleam more brightly than they'd ever done before. The light from the flickering torches threw his enlarged but very normal shadow against the wall.

At least there was no jackal this time.

Kaitlyn wrapped her arms around her chest but lifted her chin. 'I'm not sorry.'

He didn't move for several long moments, expressionless and silent. Then he strode towards her, walking through the broken debris in his bare feet as though he didn't notice the jagged wood and shattered glass. Kaitlyn stepped back. Her legs bumped against the frame of the bed. Her arms fell away from her chest. She lifted her chin higher. Let him do what he would. This wasn't hard, not compared with slitting her wrists. Not compared with facing death. Let him sneer and snigger over her failed plan. Over how he'd been proved right. If he was going to chase her down the hall—then so be it. If he intended to rape her again—then she would cope as she always had. Kaitlyn could handle him. She had already stood at the precipice—and survived.

He stood before her. He towered over her. Hands limp at his sides, he gazed at her with his remarkable blue eyes. Kaitlyn forced herself to look back. She would not back down. She opened her mouth, about to say something cutting, when he dropped to his knees. Wrapping his arms around her hips, he pulled her close, pressing his face into her abdomen.

It was a surprise but not unexpected. He'd always liked his games. 'Don't try it,' she said. 'I'm not in the mood.'

Satan didn't move, only tightened his embrace. Kaitlyn noticed that his arms were trembling, much like Jacob's had done when he'd held her.

Pulling away, he looked her over. His eyes were filled with hunger, though a different kind of hunger than Kaitlyn was used to. It was as though he was desperate to absorb every angle and curve and line of her body, as though fearful he never would again.

'How'd you do it?' he said.

Before she could respond, he took her arm. Even here in her dreams, it was stained pink with blood. Turning it over, he brushed his fingers over her wrist and inner forearm. 'They healed you. And yet—I can still feel it.' He was whispering. He took her other arm and did the same, brushing his fingers over her pink skin.

He folded her hand into his.

'You know I did it?' she said.

'Of course I know you did it,' he snapped.

'But I was on hallowed ground. How could you sense me?'

'Your soul left your body. You were no longer on hallowed ground.' He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. 'You were drifting in purgatory. I felt you.'

Kaitlyn recalled the swirling, grey nothing. She reached for her necklace, only to remember that it was never present in any of Satan's dreams. She clutched at her chest instead. 'That was purgatory?'

He lowered his eyes back to hers. 'Neither living nor dead.'

'But ... but ... shouldn't I have gone to heaven?'

'You killed yourself, Kaitlyn. Only God can decide where you should go. You're lucky he took his time.'

'I'm lucky?' she said, raising her eyebrows. Then she frowned. 'You mean you're lucky.' She shook her head. 'I shouldn't be here.' She tried to pull away her hand but he held it tightly.

He gave it a firm squeeze. 'I'm lucky, I admit it.' Taking her hand in both of his, he leaned his head against it. 'Don't do that again.'

'Then don't treat me like garbage. Stop taking advantage of me. Stop manipulating me.'

He looked up at her, his eyes bright. 'As you wish.'

Kaitlyn pulled her hand from his grasp. Slowly, he stood. Kaitlyn averted her eyes but Satan had other plans. Gently taking her chin, he leaned in to kiss her sweetly on the mouth.

'It's a strange thing. What I feel for you.' He touched his mouth, looking surprised.

Kaitlyn's eyes wandered around the broken room. 'What happened here?'

'When you left me here alone, when I felt your soul leave your body, what else could I do but bash fruitlessly at my cage with my fists?'

'You don't need to be in a cage if you don't want to.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Trying to turn me good, Kaitlyn?' He gave a mocking laugh. 'Just because I have feelings for you does not mean I give a damn about humanity—or ever will. No matter what, my plans have not changed.'

He walked over to the window. Someone was crying. A woman was screaming. A man was shouting "Stop!" over and over again.

He gripped onto the window ledge. 'I only want justice, Kaitlyn. I only want back what I lost. God rejected me and the rest of his angels. How Jacob and the others could ever be on His side, I'll never understand.'

'But he didn't reject you,' Kaitlyn said. 'He just—he just has more children now. And a father loves all his children.'

Satan's blue eyes were hard. 'But not equally. He will always favour one over the other. No matter how loyal a son may be, how fervently he might love his father, he will always be treated as second best.'

Kaitlyn opened her mouth.

'Shut it, Kaitlyn.'

Kaitlyn closed her mouth.

'You'll come to understand my perspective soon enough. If your misadventure has shown me anything, it's that I should be more certain than ever that the prophecy will be fulfilled.' His grip on the window ledge tightened. 'You're already mine, Kaitlyn. You just don't know it yet.'

The torchlight flickered against his face. There was nothing Kaitlyn could say.