Black Sacrament

A Short Story by G.P. Cassara

Red juice bled across the linen, a vivid wound against the white. He set aside the silver knife and pulled the pomegranate apart with his bare hands, easing each quarter open until four plump segments glistened like freshly polished garnets. From one, he ripped a handful of seeds free and stuffed them in his mouth. Their juice burst across his tongue with the sweet sensation of sin.

Across the crimson-stained table sat an ornate obsidian bowl, etched with runes he had spent years learning. He lifted the bowl to his mouth, spat the pulped fruit and all of its juice inside, and carried it to the circle he had prepared on the stone-cold floor of the desecrated church.

Five black candles marked the points of an upturned star, a simple yet effective marker for truer purpose. In the center, he crouched and listened to the soft hum of night. 

Seeing as sight mattered little, he did his best to listen to his guides: the shadows. They spoke to him with eager waiting, the only friends he had ever known or wanted. He could not understand them yet, but he could feel their leading hands as the velvet whispers echoed in his ears like a long-lost prayer.

Their murmurings reminded him of the bedtime prayer his parents said every night. They would tuck him in under his soft, cozy blankets with their pleading hymns. The words were always the same; asking for food when there was none, water when there was little, and mercy when it had never existed. They always meant well, intending to bring him comfort when there was little solace in their cold world, but the thought of their devotion sickened him now. He wished he could scrape those words from memory, recalling just how helpless they were in the end when the plagues came. They prayed for mercy, as they always did, and died choking on it.

He wiped the blade clean on a torn strip of cloth, then tied the piece around his wrist. Raising the blade above his head, he said the words to his blasphemous prayer and brought the dagger down upon the palm of his hand, slicing deep enough that blood spattered across the floor. Warm blood pooled fast as he squeezed his hand over the black sacrament bowl. He watched as crimson ribboned over the scarlet pomegranate. The air hissed as the mixture began to steam, bubbling before his eyes.

His hand twinged with pain which only excited him. He relished the pain, finding pleasure where others would never but he could not stop yet. The ritual was only half done.

He dipped his wounded hand into the black bowl and stirred until the warm concoction thickened, giving off a scent like sweet iron.

When that was done, there was one last step.

Moving counterclockwise, he traced a circle of blood around the candles, careful to meet each pillar of wax with a continuous line. He pressed his palm to each candle in turn, leaving dark red handprints that glimmered in the faint light. At last, his seduction was complete.

The shades recoiled into the ink-black night. The floor trembled—soft at first, then a low, rising roar. The candles ignited, a crimson flame that made the shadows on the wall dance like tormented souls. A wave of heat rolled over the room, a thick layer of sweat slicking his skin. His bloodied prints shone like sigils on the candles and a wafting floral perfume told him it was working. The veil between life and death thinned, the borders between worlds tearing for a moment as the sound of hooves approached from somewhere far beyond his world. Behind the slow pace making its way to him, a chorus of whispers gathered. 

He closed his eyes and listened intently as the voices became briefly discernible. And there, behind the many screams of the damned was his family calling to Him. Even in death they yearned for a sweet release they would never get. He remembered his vow. He remembered why he had done this sadistic ritual. And all that remained was for him to exact his plan.

A raven called somewhere outside. Three hollow notes tolled the song of midnight.

When he opened his eyes, the circle of blood was glowing around him as an immense power knocked from below.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He tightened his cloth around the bleeding hand and smiled to himself.

The hour had come.

With a flash of red light and gust of hot air, the candles were extinguished. He covered his face, protecting himself from the intense heat and when he came to, an intimidating figure loomed over him. Its eyes burned fiery red in the darkness, peering into his soul with pure hatred but also a deep and loathsome pride that only enticed him. He could see a large set of horns that twisted on either side of his head and smell the faintest scent of pomegranate fading away.

He kept his eyes locked with His, not daring to take them off of Him for a single second.

The figure had skin that was human, only pale and nearly translucent so he could see the deep scarlet blood running through him. His face was handsome and clean. Horns emerged from either side of His temples, blending seamlessly with the black curls of His hair. He wore no shirt but below His toned stomach, His pale skin stood out against a pure black pair of trousers. Holding them up was a belt with a buckle of molten gold warped into tormented faces. Although the sound of hooves came from His stride, he saw nothing but the figure’s bare feet.

A low growl came from the figure as Damien stood before Him.

While His mouth did not move, Damien could still hear Him inside of his head.

I am summoned, He spoke, by a mere young man. What is your name and what is it you want with me?

“My name is Damien, Sir. And all I seek, is You.”

Ah, he sighed wistfully. I have heard your prayers from afar Damien. Damien Grey if I am not wrong? I sense the sadness deep within you even though you run from it. You have prayed for your family, but you should know they do not reside within my realm. There is nothing I can do for you.

There was a crushing feeling in his heart as he heard these words. Of course, Damien knew that his family did not go to the Hells—that’s not why he summoned Him here, but the mention of his family made him suddenly question his plan. What would they think if they could see him now? Or if they had seen everything he had to do to get here? All the sacrifices he had made. All that he had given up and all that those who helped him on this road had given for him, that he had taken from them.

Damien brushed the thoughts aside. Lucifer was playing mind games, trying to plant the seeds of doubt that would deter Damien from pursuing anything more. Damien knew he could not listen. He had to follow through.

Damien looked around the room at his scattered belongings. Photos of the loved ones he had lost to Him.

Damien reminded himself that if his family were here, there would have been no reason to tread this dark path. Yet all he had left of them were ruined photos and broken frames.

They were no longer here to see what he was doing and that, was solely His fault. Not even the Great Evil could be blamed for what happened to his family. Either way, it was not bringing back his family that he wanted.

“There is something you could do, my Lord Lucifer. I only seek your aid in my revenge.” Damien responded thoughtfully and carefully.

Ah, revenge. It is the folly of humans, I am sure you know, young man. It was revenge after all that took your family.

Damien tensed, but he knew better than to give in to the anger. Especially when Lucifer was the one testing him. He looked at the fallen angel in front of him and held his tongue. He had not come so far to fail when what he needed was so close. Damien remembered the plague, the curse that it was. Everyone had told Damien the sickness had saved them, cleansed them of their sins, but now he knew it was all a lie.

The Divine Lie.

Now, Damien knew what it meant to stray too far from being saved and for that, he would have his revenge. One way or another, his family would be avenged.

“It is,” Damien agreed. “And yet, it is what has led me all the way to you.” Damien eyed Lucifer from head to toe, showing Him that he enjoyed the view. Damien would not fall for the petty tricks of a pitiful being, but he might be able to get Him to fall for his.

I am impressed, I must admit. There was a gruff that sounded more like admiration than before. You have done something thousands of others have failed to do, passing my tests. Not only that, but you do not fear me. As I stand here before you as I have stood before so many others, you do not cower before my form nor my name.

“I know of your good, but I know even more of your evil. I know, above all else, the two things you most desire.”

Lucifer laughed and looked at him. Damien could see one of the corners of His mouth pull into a hidden smirk. And what would that be, young man?

Another test, but Damien really had studied for this.

“I know it was Adam you wanted, not Eve. And once that was taken from you, I know it was revenge you sought. So, I bring you both as an offering. Adam,” Damien gestured to himself. “And your sweet revenge.” Lucifer’s eyes went between Damien and the bleeding pomegranate on the floor. A slick, wicked smile stretched across His face.

He looked down at Damien with a curious glint in his eyes. For the first time, Lucifer spoke aloud, and Damien could hear a chorus of the damned replace the dark whispers of night. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “This would be a deal much to my liking. To have found and eaten of the fruit, you are much more willing than the others who have tried before.” He paused, eyeing Damien for Himself. “You know much more than you let on that even I cannot see within you.”

“Then let me invite you to come see,” Damien slowly unbuttoned his shirt. “And taste what you were never allowed to before. It is my honor as man to do anything for the Prince of Darkness. The One whom God fears the most.”

Damien could tell Lucifer liked this more than anything. Lucifer’s pride and the recognition of such was worth much to any man. “Look at me, Damien,” Lucifer said, pulling Damien’s chin up towards his own. Damien stopped with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, surprised at just how delicate the Devil could be. Lucifer roamed his mind freely, but Damien had been prepared and showed Him only what He wanted to see. A mischievous glint replaced Lucifer’s skeptical one. “You might not want what you’ve been praying for.”

Damien knew the game Lucifer wanted to play, but Lucifer did not know just how badly Damien needed it. “I always get what I want when I’m on my knees, though few would call it prayer.”

“Then you should know to take what you want and stop waiting around for someone to never answer your prayers.”

Damien let his hand trace the sides of Lucifer’s chest until it found the golden buckle, “Like this?”

Lucifer nodded and Damien could see the desire growing in His glowing-red eyes. As they were locked in each other’s gaze, Damien’s good hand unbuckling the belt, Lucifer pulled Damien’s other, bandaged hand into His own hands. Lucifer unwrapped the wound and looked deeply into Damien’s eyes. “Should I?”

“Please, take what you want.” Damien played up his desperation, using the Devil’s own words against him. “It was meant for you.”

The Prince of Darkness growled deep in His throat and Damien knew He was satiated at last. He loved lies so much He could not see the web which Damien had woven before Him.

He watched as Lucifer brought His head down to the open wound in his palm, taking a deep breath as He basked in the blood spilled in his favor, and licked from one end of the cut to the other. Lucifer savored the taste of Damien’s blood. Damien was filled with supernatural heat as the wound mended itself, turning into nothing but a fading scar.

Lucifer smiled sweetly at him, relishing in the look on Damien’s face who was both in awe and wanting more. He fought not to lose himself to the lust of Lucifer, but the longer Lucifer enjoyed Damien’s sacrifice the more difficult it became to ignore His own wanting. Damien thought of the power that coursed through him when Lucifer brought His tongue to his hand. That was all the reminder he needed to stay firm to his purpose here. Damien needed more. He needed Lucifer to want more.

With his healed hand, Damien pulled Lucifer into himself while his other kept Him occupied with pleasure. Mere inches separated them, and Damien let Lucifer tear the remaining buttons from his shirt. The Prince of Darkness tore the fabric off his shoulders like it was nothing. He did not stop until there was no more fabric left between them.

Lucifer took a step back to appreciate every inch of Damien’s bared body. He licked His lips greedily and the clothes He had torn off Damien burned away in His hands so that there was really nothing stopping them now.

Lucifer pulled Damien into Him this time, letting the heat of His skin blister Damien’s. Damien liked the pain. Their chests became flush with one another and yet Damien did not dare back down. Just as quickly as the sweltering pain came, so too did it pass. The suffering turned into wicked pleasure.

It was Damien who initiated it, bringing his lips to meet Lucifer’s with the same sensation as before. He felt himself crumbling into Lucifer’s arms. As the Prince of Darkness roamed with tongue and hand, Damien could feel his soul trembling, daring to be taken by their passionate embrace. He fought back with all the willpower he had and held onto his being while staying locked with Lucifer.

“You are stronger than every other man,” Lucifer said, pulling back for just a moment. “None have lasted nearly as long as you have if at all.”

“No man is like me,” Damien grinned proudly. “I should not want it to end so fast. Or ever.”

“Nor should I,” Lucifer seized Damien once more taking control.  

Like this, the pull on his soul became stronger. Damien had to fight a lot harder to not lose himself, but still he never let go. Damien needed to find a way to take the lead. The longer they stayed locked like this, the more difficult it would be for Damien to pull back. Now, it was Damien’s best chance.

He needed one last ingredient.

He leaned back just enough to let Lucifer’s drive bring them down. Together, they crashed to the floor. The Prince of Darkness did not seem to mind. If anything, He made sure they did not separate for a single moment. With the momentum of their crash and Lucifer distracted by his roaming hands, Damien used his legs to put the Dark Lord on his back before putting himself on top. Their hips were flush, and Damien could feel the intense heat beneath him. Lucifer quite enjoyed this, and Damien knew it was because no one had ever taken charge of Him before. Despite this, Lucifer let Damien lead. That was one of His many mistakes on this night.

The façade of innocence was quick to fade.

Damien now looked down at Lucifer, daring to tease Him just so he could get what he needed.

His plan was coming so close to fruition.

Damien dragged his mouth over every inch of Lucifer’s chest, trailing his kisses up the side of His neck until their lips were locked one last time. Now that he was leading, there was nothing that could stop him. Not the Devil. Not even God. Damien used his teeth to bite at Lucifer’s lower lip. It was soft at first. Lucifer groaned under his control. Damien bit, then drew Lucifer deep enough to keep His eyes closed and His head reared back in pleasure. Damien did not close his eyes. He watched the Devil closely.

While Lucifer was lost in the heat of the moment, Damien bit more viciously. Hard enough that a drop of the wet heat that was Lucifer’s blood painted his mouth and tongue.

Lucifer did not seem to care.

If anything, He seemed to enjoy the soft pain. Damien pulled at Lucifer’s lip with his mouth and let the Blood of the Devil fill his mouth. Now, Damien savored it just as Lucifer had enjoyed his own blood. The taste was like that of the pomegranate but even sweeter, even more sinful.

Before it could poison him anymore, Damien removed his lips from Lucifer’s. He then spit a mouthful of blood into the black ritual bowl which was now beside their position on the floor and put one of his hands on Lucifer’s neck, delicately enough that He would not realize what was happening yet.

Lucifer paused, realizing Damien had stopped enjoying their passion and watched as Damien mixed the final ingredient into the sacrament bowl. “What are you doing?” Lucifer put His hand to His mouth and saw the blood lacing His fingers. His face flushed red with anger, and he tried to push Damien off, but Damien was ready for it. Damien had Lucifer locked against the floor with his hand over His neck and His bare chest exposed.

Lucifer looked over at the table where the pomegranate lay forgotten and the bowl that was now in Damien’s hands. He looked closer at the bowl, reading its runes. Damien could see a flash of fear in the Devil’s eyes. “How did you—where did you learn this?”

Damien had nothing to hide now. He had Lucifer exactly where he needed Him, “Let’s just say you’re not my first angel.”

As the Blood of the Devil mixed finally into the bowl of pomegranate and Damien’s own blood, it began to steam. The bowl dissolved into a thorny red amalgamation, burning away slowly until the red and black melded into a sacred dagger. The hilt looked like a rose, while the blade itself was black and jagged like a stem full of thorns.

Without hesitation, Damien thrust the dagger into Lucifer’s bare chest and sank the blade deep into His heart. As Damien let go, the rose on the hilt began to bloom violently, growing with Lucifer’s blood. Damien watched with great relish, looking into the red eyes of Lucifer for the last time. There was a sickly sound of screams coming from the Earth beneath the floor. A million souls singing congratulations as Damien watched Lucifer fall to his own hand.

It had worked.

“You have no idea what you are doing,” Lucifer gagged on His own blood. “You cannot—control this—”

Damien briefly felt pity, but that was quick to dissipate as the powers of the Prince of Darkness began coursing through him as it had when Lucifer had healed his hand. As quick as he felt that pity, it was forgotten.

He pulled the dagger out of Lucifer’s chest and wielded his new blade of darkness. The thorny-rose dagger glimmered in the night, empowered by the shadows and the power of its wielder. Damien leaned over and whispered into Lucifer’s ear as He drew His last breaths, blood pouring from the now mortal’s chest. “I know exactly what I am doing.”

For good measure, Damien kissed Lucifer’s lips one last time and watched as Lucifer evaporated into shadow from the heat of his touch.

At last, Lucifer had been usurped. With His last remnant fading, Damien steeled himself for the last test.

The flow of power suddenly ceased before returning to him in an intense blast of heat. He would not kneel. No, Damien stood and challenged the shadows to overtake him but they belonged to him now.

Damien was the new Prince of Darkness.

Once the heat had subsided and the ritual was complete, Damien felt his head being torn apart by screams and prayers and pleas. He could hear the shadows now. Understand them.

Their lifeless and soulless screams were calling to him, begging him for relief, but it was not his job to listen to prayers. Damn you all, Damien whispered. I am not your savior.

The shadows hissed at him. He had once promised them a fresh start. Some part of him had meant it then, but so much had changed since. Now, he wanted his revenge. Now, Damien’s sights were set on the Heavens. With this power, he could now challenge Him.

Damien’s hands wandered towards the scars opening on either side of his head and felt two horns emerging. Unlike Lucifer’s, the horns sprouting from Damien were still young and fresh. Blood dripped down the sides of his face, but what did it matter? He had won and these were but a reminder of the price he had paid to get here.

Damien could feel the shadows coursing through him along with the perpetual pain.

Damien stood up, letting the anger and hatred of the shadows fuel him. They wove a robe of shadows around him, covering his naked body. Damien felt like he was born again. A new Adam but much darker.

He felt taller. Stronger. And more powerful than ever. The world was his for the taking, but the time for humans to suffer underneath his miasma of death was not yet near.

Damien vowed now that darkness would devour the land but there was still one more obstacle to his reunion with his family and that was the false God. Lucifer might have been too scared to ever challenge His God again, but Damien was not. Heaven was not safe.

“No one is safe,” Damien declared. “My plague will hunt You, as Yours hunted my people. It will crown even God with fever.”

He extended his arms and released the shadows from his robes to do his bidding.

“Soon,” Damien swore, “It comes for You.”