The Kiss Of Death

Chapter 17

It didn't bother Frank to wander into an abandoned building with an odd yet obviously unworldly man, supposedly to meet the Devil. He considered his life over since the night he met Jacqueline. As for Lola, he'd hoped for better. Of course, he wasn't about to leave her on the sidewalk, waiting for him to return. He also knew that she'd do whatever she could to help him, and if that meant walking to her death at the hands of the Devil, then she would do it.

Walls lined either side of the stairs, dirty and covered in ripped posters. The entire space seemed narrow, Frank felt uneasy. He wouldn't admit to anyone that he was claustrophobic. It was Jacqueline's fault; she'd trapped them into a small cupboard when the marauders were breaking down doors. He screamed and begged to be free; he cried and said that he was scared of the dark. Even when Emma held him tight, he still wanted to get out. Scratching at the wood left him with bloodied fingers that were full of splinters. When Jacqueline finally freed them, she scoffed at his appearance. Her lack of empathy for Frank's fears was not what he needed, not when he was frightened. To make it worse, she insisted that all of the splinters were picked out, which made Frank howl from the pain. Naturally, because of that night, he hated small, confined spaces.

When the door closed behind them, the anxiety rose. He looked back, seeing Lola behind him but the man was not there.

"This is the door that you require."

Frank gasped, turning to the top of the stairs. The creepy man gestured to the only door on this level, his body blocking the small corridor to the next set of stairs. Without the man even touching the door, it opened slowly, creaking the entire way.

Lola looked at the sallowed features of the man as she passed him. He smiled, but there was nothing comforting about it to Lola. She thought that he was the epitome of her fears when it came to bad men, Hell, and the darkness in this world. He is a servant of the Devil, of course, he's supposed the be everything fearful, she thought. Still, she couldn't get over how well dressed he was. It was an old world view of a dapper man, just a man that happened to be closer to what a zombie might look like if they were real.

Turning to follow Frank into the room, Lola had her back to the creepy man. It might have been a mistake, given that she felt cold fingers rake over her neck. With a gasp, Lola jumped, and she looked back. He was gone.

"Forgive Mephistopheles," A deep voice offered from the darkness. "He is always intrigued by modern humanity and forgets that his actions are inappropriate."

"Sure." Lola murmured.

Light began to lift in the room; the source was a fireplace. In front of the fireplace was a leather Chesterfield lounge, empty and waiting for them. Facing the lounge was a single chair, regal in its appearance. Even though she knew it was unwise and rude to stare, Lola couldn't help herself. The chair was a throne, gilded skulls formed the legs and sides of the backrest. A view of the rich red velvet seat was almost marred by the creature that sat on it. Long, pale fingers curled over one of the skulls that sat at the end of the flat armrest. Lola was jealous of how sculpted the nails were, looking perfect and strong, sitting just over the fingertips. She couldn't get her nails to grow, let alone make them long enough to create a uniform view.

Her gaze rose to the wicked smile that knew where her eyes lingered. Beyond the perfect smile was a deadly sight. The Devil's mouth was full of razor sharp teeth. That mouth could decimate flesh with little effort. Lola wondered if the Devil ate food as humans did or if he feasted upon their souls when they strayed into his world.

The pale skin continued, a consistent view of a creature that shunned the light. Long straight black hair fell effortlessly over the Devil's shoulders, framing the ghost like beauty that was his face.

Beyond the fine suit, beyond the beauty, it was danger. He was malevolence and darkness, a creature that sinned without fear of the ramifications.

"Please,"

The creature lifted his hand, the narrow fingers gestured to the lounge.

"Sit and allow Mephistopheles to serve you something delicious."

Lola wanted to shiver at how the Devil said delicious. She thought that it was almost like he intended for it to mean more than just the food.

As they sat down, a long table began to rise through the dusty floorboards. It was close enough to the couple that they didn't have to reach far to get whatever they desired. Food began to appear, all manner of pastries, cakes, and biscuits. Mephistopheles stood at the end of the table, pouring tea into two delicate cups.

The Devil waited to ensure that his guests were happy with the offering. As always, he was patient. He'd waited for a long time for today, and there was nothing that would stop him now. He would have his revenge.