Satan's Vessel

11.

Kaitlyn gazed up at the ceiling, thinking of all that they'd talked about. Samuel's words were the loudest: We have to be realistic—our chances of winning are slim.

Nobody had argued, and she wondered if they all privately agreed. Even Jacob. What hope had they against the might of Satan? Where was God? Surely, the All Powerful could stop this "Reckoning" in its tracks. And yet, it wasn't the first time God had been deaf to pleas and prayers. Kaitlyn knew that all too well.

With a yawn, she closed her eyes.

It was hot down in hell.

She was standing on a balcony, leaning her elbows against its thick stone railing as she listened to the screaming and hollering of the Damned burning for their sins. Over and over again. Ceaseless. Remorseless. She felt the fury of the flames. It surrounded her. It encompassed her. It was unusual to begin her dream outside Satan's home but she knew he liked to remind her of what lay in her future when she finally stood by his side. A kingdom. An empire. A world.

It was never a doubt. Not here in her dreams.

As she gazed down into the smoking, burning vista of hell, Jacob and the other angels seemed so distant, almost another life. All their talk of keeping her safe and fighting against the inevitable seemed so small and meaningless here.

Turning, she walked towards her lover's castle. It dominated hell, even amid the spewing volcanos and blazing fires and swirling clouds of smoke. Towering, immense and jagged, broken fingers of black, volcanic rock stabbed at the swirling grey sky. Though she knew it was important to resist, though she knew she must retreat, her feet moved onwards. No matter where she was, no matter the conflict in her heart, she would always go to him.

She recognised the molten rock halls. She recognised his black "pets" as they scurried and slithered and scuttled out of the way. She recognised the big marble door ahead. As usual, it was open and beyond it the room was brightly lit. Kaitlyn ignored the window looking onto hell.

The screaming of the Damned echoed in her head—and it wasn't just here in her dreams when she heard them. Sometimes, even when she was awake, she smelled the smoke in the air. More and more it was becoming real. More and more hell was becoming her reality.

Strangely, the room was empty, the bedspread unwrinkled, the pillows stacked neatly against the headboard.

Kaitlyn was wondering where he might be, when she jumped back. A fire suddenly roared to life, lighting up a towering fireplace that appeared in the wall ahead. The flames were so bright that she lifted a hand against its blaze.

And there, sitting before the fire was a chair, large and high-backed. It was black with weaving veins of red that shimmered deep and bloody against the brightness of the flames. She couldn't know what the chair was made of, but the way it shone reminded her distinctly of reptile skin, of that of a snake or a lizard. A large white hand gripped the right armrest. She couldn't see the rest of him but Kaitlyn could feel him like a wall of heat, like a tingling that darted up her spine.

The chair turned.

He was relaxed, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other. He was naked. His blonde hair gleamed against the bright flames. The flickering light seemed to make the tattoos on his arms wriggle and writhe. His magnetic blue eyes locked onto hers. Immediately Kaitlyn felt her body respond. Invisible but powerful hands seemed to latch onto her hips, drawing her inexorably towards him.

He smiled as she stood before him.

'I've missed you,' he said. Replacing the invisible hands with his own, he pulled her closer. 'I miss you every day, waiting for our nights together.' Slowly, delicately, he smoothed his broad, warm hands up under her blouse. They made her skin tingle. Kaitlyn sucked in a breath as a little shock darted between her hipbones. He lowered his hands to her waist, gripping her briefly before moving onto her skirt. Gently but insistently, he began tugging it down.