Divine Descent

Chapter Twenty-Six

The vampire stands on an empty rooftop, looking over the city.

Speckles of snow swirl in the frigid air around him, but he isn't dressed for winter.

There is no moon, no sun. Only the outline of what used to be.

There's someone else here. He doesn't know it. He can't sense it.

Unspeakable violence hangs like an omen.

He's in danger.

I wake to the sight of hair.

Wild, untamed blonde hair.

The hair belongs to a woman. It's Donatella, I can tell, although I can't see her face. Lying beside her is a man in deep slumber, also comfortably in the nude. As my gaze reluctantly sweeps over the mattress, finding more bodies at the end of the bed, it is not lost on me what has occurred.

All is not lost on me.

I remember some of it... the pleasure, the pain, the complete loss of control.

I remember the drugs, the sex... the violence we created in animalistic abandon.

Shame melts through me as I turn onto my back. The mattress lacks a sheet, so like my companions, my sensitive flesh is kissed by the air. The nightstand contains an array of narcotics, empty glasses, stubbed out cigarettes. The candles are on their last leg, the wicks nearly burned out. I linger on the sight of cocaine and my chest instantly expands, understanding the depths to which I sunk last night.

There's a faint hint of panic now that I'm awake, awareness, although I'm not sure it belongs to me. I push my hair back, jumping out of my skin when there's a slight movement at the foot of the bed.

Seated in a chair, still fully clothed in what he was wearing yesterday, is Samael.

There's a drink against his knee, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. He regards me with an intimate smug expression, and doesn't say a goddamn word, even when I push up onto my hands.

I'm stark naked, and he's been watching me for God knows how long.

He feels triumphant, no doubt. After so much pushing, I gave into his lies.

I'm rigid. "You said this would feel good."

"In the moment, it did. When you let go, you did."

I stare at him squarely as I slide to the edge of the bed. The sheet is on the ground, but I don't care to reach down and grab it. Satan's eyes scale over my skin greedily, but he keeps his distance.

"Get out," I hiss, with rage in my heart.

I'm talking to him. I'm talking to the orgy on the bed, on the floor, in some of the chairs. Everywhere I look, they are there, reminding me of my downfall. There's been a shift inside of me, I can feel it.

It's hard to control myself. Samael doesn't move. Neither does anyone else.

I walk to the table, pouring myself a glass of wine. Water would ease my conscious, but this is within close distance. I'm beyond pretending I'm better than anyone else here.

I've been feeding my unhealthy impulses since day one.

"I said GET OUT!" I bark out in abrupt rage. Instantly, I hear gasps and rustling as the room awakens. The demons scatter for their clothes chaotically. I'm murderous, truly murderous. I scoop up the cocaine from the nightstand with my bare hands, thrusting the power into Donatella's hands messily. "Take your fucking drugs with you and get the hell out!"