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This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any matter whatsoever without the express written permission of the authors except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, business, events and places are either the product of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously.
Edited By: Helena Dautrive, BookBish Edits
Instagram handle: @book.b.ish
Website: https://beacons.ai/book.b.ish
CONTENT WARNING
The book contains explicit sex scenes, foul language, rape, physical abuse, drug abuse, mention of cannibalism, murder, violence, and religious references. Reader discretion is advised.
PROLOGUE
1972, Vailburg
My heart raced faster and faster with every passing second. Every breath I inhaled burned my lungs. Every step I took made me wish to turn back time, so I would never be born in the first place, especially in a horrific and fucked up place like this.
But I had no choice. I was bound to this darkness like an innocent victim tied in a dark cellar with no way out.
When the wooden portcullis door came into my view, I felt nearly out of breath. I halted close to the door and listened to the deep faint group of chanting from inside.
With my trembling hand raised, I held the rustic iron knocker and tapped it against the wooden surface three times. Instantly a small window snapped opened with gray eyes greeting me, followed by a suspicious look.
Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to calm down my nerves even though it felt pointless.
“We are God’s children, and He protects us from Evil,” I muttered.
His eyes narrowed for a second before he gave a firm nod and opened the door, guiding me to the pathway of my living hell.
The chanting was replaced with pin-drop silence. Every pair of eyes landed upon me, analyzing me from top to bottom with an emotionless gaze. They were all part of this darkness, and none carried an ounce of sanity to comprehend how wrong all of this was. I walked ahead, keeping my eyes cast down with fear starting to crawl back to my beating heart. I didn’t have to look around my surroundings because I had seen it a million times.
Nothing had ever changed. The brick walls had algae and black discoloration on some parts, but there used to be a script painted on the walls that still ran in my mind. The benches lined up into two rows with a black carpet in the center that led to the end of the room. There were no windows or other doors. The candelabras were the only source of light here, hanging on either side of the walls.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I kept reminding myself as I got closer to the small stage before I stopped in front of the man responsible for all of this.
“Welcome, my child,” he muttered in a deep gruff voice, sending chills down my spine. Just his voice was enough to make goosebumps form on my skin from anxiety and fear. He was dressed in all black: black shirt, black pants, and black shoes, with his folded sleeves showing off his pale, lightly bruised skin. He always wore singular-colored attire. His cross-chain necklace hung around his neck like it usually did. But today, I couldn’t see his face as it hid behind a vast animal skull, symbolizing true evil and darkness he wore like a crown. His eyes were difficult to see through the hollowed eye sockets of the head. The giant curved horns made him look like the Devil.
“Let’s not waste more time,” he announced and took a step back. “Turn around and serve them, my child.”
I turned to face everyone in the room. I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached behind for the zipper of my white dress. With one soft push, my dress cascaded down on the floor as I tilted my face to meet everyone’s cold neutral eyes while I stood naked and…vulnerable.
I felt rough ice-cold hands on my shoulders, and without seeing, I knew to whom they belonged.
“It’s time for you all to serve the Angel,” his order echoed through the room.
They all nodded in unison and started to get ready with calculative movements. All the women came towards me, forming a circle with their hands joined together and closed their eyes, tilting their heads back.
“Accept our service, Angel. Accept our service, Angel,” they chanted with a low voice as if praying from the depths of their heartless souls.
The men came forward without any clothes and had their heads covered in animal skulls.
“Accept our touch, Angel. Help us. Accept us,” they muttered.
One of the men came forward with a bowl of blood before he coated his hands with it a bit and passed it to another man. With his blood-smeared hands, he stood in front of me and glided the blood from my shoulders to my breasts before giving them a light squeeze and descending to my belly and legs.
