In a Corner of My Soul: The Pack: Satan Worship

[dragonyphoenix]

Masterlist for In a Corner of My Soul.

After he'd interviewed Miss Page, Cecil had forgone talking with any of the old biddies she might have told her stories too. He'd had his info from the horse's mouth. Why bother talking to … other mouths? … other parts of the horse? Cecil paused to shake the image out of his head. The point was, there were more interesting avenues to investigate. Ethan Rayne had been a hard one to turn up. In the end, Cecil'd had to actually offer money to the barkeep of some sordid dive.

The address took him to Wapping. The neighborhood seemed a bit dodgy but there was a new high-rise visible down the way and parked cars lining the road. The broken windows on the side of the auto shop suggested it had been abandoned long ago, but the metal gate had been unlocked and pulled to one side. Presumably some one was in, but Cecil doubted that someone wasn't Ethan Rayne.

Thinking back to Miss Page's words, Cecil wondered if he shouldn't consider himself lucky that he hadn't found the man. “Going to look him up? Ethan will be so pleased. He just adores pretty young things. You'd better bring a gun, if you care at all about your life.” Cecil couldn't imagine he'd need the cross in his right jacket pocket. It was the middle of the afternoon after all, and nothing Miss Page had said had suggested this Rayne fellow had been Turned, not that she would have known, being a civilian and therefore ignorant of the true facts about vampires.

“He just adores pretty young things.” Miss Page's words suggested that Rayne would consider Cecil himself a pretty young thing. Granted, Cecil was no hulking bruiser, but he wasn't a doe-eyed pansy either. He could take care of himself. Patting at the cross, Cecil wondered if he shouldn't have brought a gun, but no, this Rayne, assuming Cecil had even found him, couldn't be as bad as Miss Page had suggested. As Cecil knocked at the door, the metal frame rang hollowly. No one home. Ah well, he'd tried. Time to switch to some other tack.

The door opened. “Took you long enough.” The man was both taller and slimmer than Cecil. For all that his jacket was tossed over one shoulder, the man's suit had an Italian feel. It certainly didn't belong in an abandoned auto shop in Wapping. The shirt, a maroon so dark it was almost black, had a silken sheen that suggested femininity. The man – Ethan Rayne? – couldn't hurt a kitten. Cecil was sure of it.

“I don't believe I'm the man you're waiting for.” Cecil's search had been discrete. Rayne wouldn't have known Cecil was hunting him.

The man's moue suggested disappointment. “Then you're not Cecil Ashworth? How unfortunate. You look like you'd be ever so much fun.”

Bring a gun if you want to get out with your life she'd said, but Miss Page knew nothing of Cecil's extensive training in the martial arts. Perhaps Rayne had been a threat in his younger days, when he'd been at the top of his form, but the man before Cecil just couldn't be dangerous. Still, how had the man known his name?

“Ah, I see that you are Mr. Ashworth. Uncertain how I outwitted your guerrilla tactics? I'm afraid stealth just isn't your forte. Please, do come in.”

Cecil's estimation of Rayne as a source dropped considerably. According to Miss Page, the man knew about the Watcher's Council which would suggest an esoteric knowledge of demons, but Rayne had invited him into the shop. Granted Cecil was standing in a spot of sunshine, but those in the know were in the habit of never offering verbal invites. Any black magic this man had been a part of would most likely have been drawn from that Crowley nonsense. Cecil followed Rayne into the shop.

The first room was empty, long stripped of any machinery and tools that had been put to use in its heyday. “The office, sparse as it has been left, is the most comfortable room.” Rayne led the way but then paused just outside the door. “After you.”

Cecil took one step into the office and fell to the floor. It took all his energy to turn and look up at Rayne. The man was chanting. Cecil's mind moved slow. The words … he should know these words … the words … words … were … Sumerian. A spell of binding. Ethan's chant released the fog in Cecil's mind but he couldn't seem to scramble away.

“Stand up.” Cecil rose. He couldn't help but rise to his feet, but he watched Rayne as he stood. The maroon shirt had seemed slightly feminine just minutes before but now the dark color reminded Cecil of dried blood. The slight smile gave way to a dark grin. “What ever shall we do with you?”

Rayne walked around him, staring so intently that Cecil, although still clothed, felt naked before him. “Hmm, you did come looking for Ripper.” Rayne leaned in close and whispered. “Do you know what he liked to do to pretty young things like you? I doubt you'd even believe how many young men we left torn and bleeding … but of course purely physical delights are far too unrefined for a scion of a Watcher's line. I could invoke something into you. Poor naive child, you are a virgin with men, yes? There are so many dark demons that would just eat you up. I'm afraid it would be …” Rayne paused and shrugged. “ … unpleasant for you, but the high I would get to experience. I could just float for days on it.”

Cecil found himself leaning over the desk with no idea of when he'd been moved. The room, which had been dark, was lit by dozens of candles, and Rayne was robed, holding an ancient tome, one that seemed to be bound in human skin. “What do you think of Dylylarth?”

Cecil's head jerked. He stared at the sorcerer, for Rayne most certainly had to be a dark sorcerer to know that name, but couldn't speak.

“Yes, not nearly dark enough. Granted there wouldn't be enough left of you to scrape off the pavement, but he'd leave your soul completely untouched. No, we need a demon who'll corrupt you, take over your mind and soul but still let me play with your body, and after we can let you go, running home safe to Mama but you'd hardly be safe yourself by then. Do you think your Watchers would kill you out of mercy or keep you to study?”

It wouldn't be just any Watchers. It would be Alan Wyndam-Pryce. There would be no mercy. Cecil's heart sank. Rayne would infect Cecil with a demon and Wyndam-Pryce would study him, torture him, for as long as he could keep Cecil alive.

Rayne turned a page. “Ah, Eyghon. Now that would have a certain symmetry, sort of an alpha and omega feel. I don't suppose they'd tell Rupert what demon you'd been infected with? Probably not. Unfortunate, that.”

“Please,” he wanted to say. “Please, I've done nothing to you. Please let me go.” He lips wouldn't move.

There was a sound of pounding, it seemed to be coming from inside his own head, but no. Cecil turned to listen. It was hollow, sounding much like the knock he'd made at the front door ages and ages ago.

Rayne turned to listen as well, which meant it wasn't in Cecil's head. “Backup?” Rayne asked. “I hadn't thought you smart enough, or was it you? Did Mama provide a chaperon, someone to keep you out of trouble?” He slammed the tome shut. “Ah well, so much for my fun then.”

Cecil listened to the pounding, wondering how long it would take his rescuers to get through.

“I could still kill you, you know.”

Cecil jerked his head up to stare at Rayne.

“But why bother. It's not as if you'll ever know anything. Even such a simple task as turning up Ripper's dirty secrets – and believe me, they are legion – is beyond you. Do take a word of advice. Run home to Mama. Stay safely hidden under her skirts. It really is the only thing you're good for.”

Note: This is the last scene for “The Pack”. The next chapter will be “Angel”.

Comments

[velvetwhip.livejournal.com]

Ooooh! Shivery! Do so love Ethan!!!!


Gabrielle

[dragonyphoenix.livejournal.com]

*grin* Thank you. I love writing Ethan.