Page 27 of La Petite Morte


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Jin shook his head angrily. "You're putting her in danger. Why?"

"Because she's stronger than you think, and only she can reverse the spell."

He turned to me, his eyes warm and filled with sadness. "I trust you."

It was the first time he'd ever said anything like that to me, and I ran to him, seeking shelter in his arms.

He held me for only seconds, and then pulled me away, cupping my face while he spoke.

"Your mother was a strong witch, but you can defeat them all. Just believe in yourself."

"And if he wins?"

He shook his head. "Not possible. Our succubus may be a bitch, but she knows what's good for her. She hates you because she knows you're one of the few of us who is able to satisfy her hunger. Which in turn means she'll protect you."

"She wants me dead."

He chuckled. "Didn't you know, my little necromancer? She wants us all dead."

Realization hit, and with it came a sense of conviction. He was right. This evil was just like the one that had raped my innocence so long ago. This was my chance to fight back.

A few hours later, I walked down to main tent. The moon was shining, the moans and whimpers of pleasure filled the night, and a sad howl pierced through the silence sending a shiver down my spine.

I stood on the stage alone, knowing this was what he wanted. I waited quietly feeling that more familiar demon lurking.

“You must be happy, you bitch.” I spoke out loud, feeling her surrounding me.

“Happyyyy,” she hissed in my ear.

“You got what you wanted, bloodshed and tears.”

“No,” she snapped. “Not all I wanted. You're not dead yet.”

I snapped my head towards her voice, feeling her claws scratch down my back. I jerked back, hissing at the burning sensation. I focused on the power around me, giving it a surge and hitting her with it. She gave out a sharp wail and I smiled, satisfied at the harm I could inflict on her.

"You'll never get to me."

"Nooooo, but he will." Her cackle was sharp and irritating. And when I turned around, there he was.

A metal chain was wrapped around his fists, dragging along the stairs leading up to the stage. He lifted his arm, bringing it down with a hard whack that made me jump. I cursed at myself, for showing signs of weakness.

"I knew you'd come to me," I whispered.

His face was full of anger, almost unrecognizable in its hollowness and deterioration. The evil that dwelled inside was ugly, and it had taken over completely.

"Did you see my masterpiece?"

I nodded slowly, my eyes on the chains that were piercing his skin, so cruelly. Blood dripped from the bite of the metal and he tightened his hold on them, as if in punishment. I wondered if Dean's spirit was still fighting.

"I saw it."

"Did you enjoy it?" That demonic voice crawled my spine and I fought within me not to shudder.

"It was…interesting."

"It was more than interesting. It was beautiful." He hissed, coming closer.

"It was beautiful," I whispered quietly as I reached out to touch his cold cheek.

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