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Nothing is Ever Easy - Lilah Morgan's Blackberry
da_lilah
da_lilah
Nothing is Ever Easy
I arranged to meet the Arcane Brotherhood of Tesk some three hours drive outside of town. Apparently they were on a retreat for the weekend, hard to reach. But I'd pulled strings and got them on the SAT phone. Seems they were all for embracing technology when it meant furthering their cause.

The cult had a fairly innocuous sounding name, unless you knew about Tesk, and his delightful penchant for disembowelling children and eating their small intestine. Not a guy to piss off. Especially if you had offspring. He was a trans-dimensional demon, flitting around worlds like a socialite, stirring up trouble, collecting tribute, doling out the arcane secrets to his powers to his most fervent followers, like Santa Claus handing out candy to all the 'good' boys and girls. Tesk also had a tendency to spout prophecies concerning apocalypses whenever he popped in for a visit. Sheesh you'd think apocalypses were dime a dozen the way he went on about them. Or so it was reported. I'd never met him personally and hoped I never would.

Still, his cult here on this world had proved to be extremely valuable as a resource for Wolfram and Hart. We'd had amicable dealings with them in the past, and once they signed a contract they *always* came through. In return we'd supplied them with whatever they'd requested. Money, sacrifices, objects of power. I'd employed their services a year ago, dealing with banishing a particulary pesky employee who'd proven unkillable. And here I was again, wanting to get them to come to the party on a hell-raising, driving out to god-knows-where to do a meet and greet at some sweat lodge. Oh well, whatever it took to get the job done, right?

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I arranged to meet the Arcane Brotherhood of Tesk some three hours drive outside of town. Apparently they were on a retreat for the weekend, hard to reach. But I'd pulled strings and got them on the SAT phone. Seems they were all for embracing technology when it meant furthering their cause.

The cult had a fairly innocuous sounding name, unless you knew about Tesk, and his delightful penchant for disembowelling children and eating their small intestine. Not a guy to piss off. Especially if you had offspring. He was a trans-dimensional demon, flitting around worlds like a socialite, stirring up trouble, collecting tribute, doling out the arcane secrets to his powers to his most fervent followers, like Santa Claus handing out candy to all the 'good' boys and girls. Tesk also had a tendency to spout prophecies concerning apocalypses whenever he popped in for a visit. Sheesh you'd think apocalypses were dime a dozen the way he went on about them. Or so it was reported. I'd never met him personally and hoped I never would.

Still, his cult here on this world had proved to be extremely valuable as a resource for Wolfram and Hart. We'd had amicable dealings with them in the past, and once they signed a contract they *always* came through. In return we'd supplied them with whatever they'd requested. Money, sacrifices, objects of power. I'd employed their services a year ago, dealing with banishing a particulary pesky employee who'd proven unkillable. And here I was again, wanting to get them to come to the party on a hell-raising, driving out to god-knows-where to do a meet and greet at some sweat lodge. Oh well, whatever it took to get the job done, right?

<lj-cut="What I did to seal the deal with the Brotherhood">

So I finally got to the end of the dirt road, parked the rental, and walked the final half mile along a dusty goat trail to the coordinates they'd given me. I sucked on my almost empty bottle of evian water like a mad thing as I trudged. By the time I got there the sun was high above me in the sky, and I was hot, sweaty and covered with grime. My silk blouse was stuck to my skin in several places because of the heat. Not a happy camper.

Peter Parker was there to greet me. Yeah, I loved the name, the thought of him wearing red lycra was a constant source of amusement. Helped me avoid thinking about the cold, almost dead look in the gaze he afforded me.

"Lilah Morgan." I began, holding out my hand and plastering on my best smile. He merely nodded and gestured for me to follow him. A real talker. Wouldn't ya know it, he lead me to a tent covered in animal skins. Just my luck.

"So, this is where I get naked, I take it?" I asked, wanting confirmation, because you never knew with these cult types what floated their boats.

"Yes, you must remove all that ties you to this plane." Swell. I shrugged and began to strip, handing him my clothes one by one, and placing my panties daintily on the top, with a smirk. He didn't seem to care, and walked off without a word.

I took a breath to gather my composure and lifted the flap to the sweatlodge, entering into the gloom. A bunch of naked, mostly middle aged men regarded me with interest and a few lustful stares. I resisted the impulse to cover myself, god was I thirteen again, get a grip girl.

"Ah, Miss Morgan. Pleased you could join us. Sit, partake." A wizened old man, who I took to be the big cheese, gestured for me to sit and passed me a bowl. I didn't even want to guess what was in it. Screwing up my courage I took a gulp. Gah, nasty. Coppery, probably had blood in it. The men nodded with satisfaction though at my actions.

"A hell-raising. That will cost you a pretty penny. Opening a hellmouth is not the usual standard fare. We will ask you for much in return." So, the negotiations had begun. The leader nodded to a small boy crouched in the corner, he come forward and handed me a scroll. I skimmed through the list, most of it was easily do-able. Several were hard but not impossible. A few things were going to really push the envelope, but I knew I could swing it if I called in a few favors. But the last thing on the list caused me to look at them with disbelief.

"You can't be serious. Anthony Sewell never asked for that when I dealt with him last time." I looked at all of them, there had to be a dozen men crowded in the tent. And they were all looking at me in a way that made my skin crawl.

"Anthony Sewell incurred our master's wrath. He is dead now. That is our asking price Miss Morgan." Ok, there was no way I was getting out of this. Shit, I should have known. I bet Lindsey was having a fine old time spreading rumors and busting a few demon heads. Me? I got to take part in a ritual with a dozen ugly old fat assed men. Goody.

"Alrighty then. Let's get started." I murmured, suppressing the urge to bolt out the door. I realised that the mixture they had had me ingest had some kind of drug in it. I was beginning to feel light headed, euphoric. I held out my hand, and a knife was placed into it, hilt first. I grabbed the boy and made him lie down in front of me. Two of the cult members pinned him down while I began to cut. I just kept telling myself I was painting a picture, on somebody's skin. Painting. Luckily someone clamped a hand on the kid before he started screaming his head off. When I was done cutting, each man dipped their fingers in the boy's blood and then daubed my body with it. I did everything in my power to not gag from the smell of the clotting blood, the open belly. Thankfully they didn't make me eat any part of the kid before they dragged his body away.

Still, I wasn't done yet.

All of the men looked at me expectantly. I obediently lay down on the reed mat and shut my eyes. Good thing they'd drugged me. With every thrust, I imagined myself plunging a stake into Angel's heart and watching him explode into dust.

Someone was fucking gonna pay for this.</lj-cut>

Current Mood: pissed off pissed off

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