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Twisted Sacrament by Zoe Blake

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Zoe Blake

Book Information:

Dark. Depraved. Sacrilegious.
Each shocking story from these bestselling, dark authors will deform a holy sacrament into a sensually wicked taboo.
There is no sanctuary, no light – only darkness – a deep, clawing horror.
The blood of the innocent will be shed in a twisted perversion of all you hold dear.
You will search in vain for a happy ending. This is your only warning.

Books by Author:

Zoe Blake Books

Lilith’s Revenge

By Zoe Blake

Hell hath no fury…

He will forsake heaven to taste her screams of pain

but her lips only promise the torments of hell.

Their battle of wills leads to sin and madness.

There can be only one winner.

Chapter 1

The church felt damp and cool despite the crowd. Swirls of dust and smoke danced in the streams of sunlight as the pungent, earthy scent of myrrh enwrapped him. Splashes of crimson from the colors cast by the massive stained-glass depiction of St. Anthony fighting Satan’s demons stained his white vestments. It was a gruesome sight. A pious man stood in the center of the frame while sharp-toothed demons tore at his flesh with their teeth and claws. It was a visceral reminder of both the physical and psychological tortures of evil.

With a shiver, Samael pressed his palms closer together, mastering his thoughts and focused on the Bishop’s words. After years of study and prayer, he was making the ultimate sacrifice. His brow wrinkled as the thought unfurled and slithered around his mind. How dare he on this of all days consider entering the priesthood a sacrifice? It was an honor, a calling. No longer would he be Samael Robinson. He would be Father Samael, heeding God’s call to administer to and guide his flock, fulfilling his purpose here on earth.

Chasing the treacherous thoughts away, he once more tried to concentrate on the Bishop’s solemn words as the Litany for Ordination began.

“Is it your will that Samael Robinson be ordained as a priest?” intoned the Bishop. His long mantel gleamed with gold and scarlet embroidered symbols of Christ and the Holy Spirit as he raised his hand over the congregation. The fourth finger was encircled with an ecclesiastical ring showcasing his exalted office. Samael was in awe and wanted nothing more than to prostrate himself before this spiritual embodiment of his beliefs and kiss the Bishop’s ring while confessing his darkest fear… that he was unworthy of the honor.

The congregation responded in unison, “It is.”

Their response felt heavy and monotonous to Samael’s ears.

“Will you uphold him in this ministry?”

“We will.”

Heavier still.

Samael could feel an itch between his shoulder blades as his body began to chafe and tremble from the weight of their words. Seeking reassurance, his eyes rose to the stone and wood statue of Jesus on the Cross, placed in a position of honor just behind the altar. The sight usually gave him comfort, reminding him that no sacrifice was greater than that of God’s son.

Instead of seeing the smooth stone of Jesus’ pale body frozen while enduring mortal torment with humble spiritual fortitude, there was the warm, naked flesh of a woman.

Her heavy breasts rose and fell as her body writhed and struggled against the iron nails impaling each delicate palm. Long ebony hair flowed and wrapped around her limbs, caressing her flesh as if it were alive. Meeting his gaze, her bright viridian eyes pierced him as her red lips stretched obscenely wide with a noiseless howl.

Alarmed, Samael jerked back. The rapid beating of his heart caused a rushing sound in his ears.

The Bishop paused in his prayer, frowning. Confused, Samael’s head swiveled to the left and right. Had no one seen the frightful image? Why were they not trembling in horror as he? Breathing heavily through his nose, he resolutely forced his eyes upwards again to behold the wretched sight.

They were met with the inanimate image of Jesus. Still and pious.

Samael nervously pulled on the collar of his shirt under his vestments. The once comforting chill of the nave now felt dark and oppressive.

With a shadow of annoyance still darkening his visage, the Bishop repeated his unanswered question to Samael. “My brother, do you believe that you are truly called by God and his Church to the priesthood?”

Wiping the sweat from his upper lip, Samael choked out a barely audible, “I believe I am so called.”

Feeling lightheaded, Samael numbly followed the instructions of the presbyter to kneel before the Bishop.

Was the vision a sign from God? A test of Satan’s? Samael tried to marshal his faith. He thought of Corinthians 7:5: come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control. The vision of the woman must be a judgment on his momentarily loss of self-control and focus on his duties ahead by letting the weight of those responsibilities overwhelm him.

The somber chords of the church organ filled the space as the choir shuffled into position. Soon, low baritones began the chanting rhythms of the Veni Sancte Spiritus. Closing his eyes, Samael was lifted by the heavenly message of light and salvation, allowing the dull ache in his knees to ground him back to the moment at hand. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he realized the atrocious figment was only his imagination, a tool of the Devil, trying to tempt him from God’s path in his final moments.