Commissioned [completed]

Chapter 20 - Hello Morsel

You looked in the mirror, clean, smelling like Papa's nag champa body wash and dressed in some of his old clothes. His less popey clothes. They were quality; they were dark, soft and flowy.

Your face had a heavy boot-shaped bruise on your cheek. You grimaced. Your hair was in disarray, and you found mats in places... maybe you should shave it?

A knock came as you brutalised your hair with one of Papa's combs. "I'm decent~" you called.

"I'm not, but I am coming in anyway~"

You liked his attempts at lightening your mood. You caught a smile in the mirror and promptly flipped yourself off before the door opened.

"Things are set... Pittore, you seem to require some help."

"Had this hair all my life Terzo; you'd think I could manage it at this point." You then gave up and let the comb hang from a mat.

"Ah, come out here; I have to go through some, uh, safety precautions... anyway." He stepped away from the door with a luring finger.

"There are safety precautions in summoning ghouls; who knew?" you grimaced and followed him to his lounge. The scenery had changed dramatically. The television and couches were all set to the walls. In the middle lay a pentagram in what most definitely smelt of blood. Candles flickered, salt lined the ring in the centre, and a bag of fresh takeaway ribs was set on the counter in the kitchen area.

Papa sat on the couch and motioned for you to sit on the ground before him.

"Should I ask where you got your blood from?" you furrowed your brow and cautiously approached him.

"You can," he shrugged, "our practices have changed a lot from how they were once we decided things... run more smoothly, with respect towards all free will."

"Oh, so the goats were willing to die, you asked them?" you sat in front and watched the candles dance. You felt Papa behind you, his legs on either side of you. He pulled the comb from your hair, and you felt his bare knuckles graze your neck. Goosebumps rose.

"It's human, actually."

"You going to ask me nicely for my sacrifice one day, Terzo?" you joked, feeling a little green.

"Sacrifice... Is a general term." He ran the comb the length of your hair.

You swallowed.

"Just means to give up or go without—we do blood drives...."

And you snorted. "Satanic blood drives?! Why is it kind of cute, though?"

"Cute, are we?" you heard the smile in his voice, his fingers smoothed through your wet hair, nails against your scalp. "I don't know how many people would think that."

"It's like you're polite vampires or something."

"If questioning and free will are our biggest teachings, then our rituals are only as powerful as our faith; you can do without consent and might still work. They did that for a long fucking time, and there are different churches and different beliefs, of course." He gripped your hair hard and tackled a knot. You felt him tug slightly—you bit your lips together. "But when it comes down to it, belief is incredibly powerful. Means less uhh... Fiddling on our end. Calling the wrong demon... wrong transference of power... eugh." He seemed to shoo off the idea. "And getting blood nonconsensually... just feels wrong, doesn't it?"

"Yes, that's pretty up there on the wrongness scale," you had to agree.

"I'd say so, and so yes, if you ever felt like sacrificing some of your blood for me, I'd take it willingly," his voice was ashy, "This way," he instructed and lay your head against his thigh, you meet another tangled adversary.