Mr. O'Reilly stood at the door, blocking his daughter's path. "Father!"
"No buts," he said sternly. He was a large, fat man who always gave a cold glare. He had a permanent frown and thick gray sideburns. He was in his late 50s.
"I heard you talking to someone from the window. Who was it?"
"Oh, Father, that was just... a friend of mine."
"Was he a man?"
"Y-yes, but..."
"Go to your room!"
"But, Father!"
"Silence! You will do as I say. No more of this blasphemy."
She went upstairs. O'Reilly took a swig of whiskey and went to her room. He locked the door and said to his daughter, "You mustn't go outside; you must stay here, do you understand? You cannot leave this house. This is a safe haven; outside is filth, and men are filthy. No man can touch my daughter but me."
He took off his coat, threw it to the floor, and walked to his daughter, who was sitting on her bed with her back facing him. He put his hands on her shoulders, leaned in, and smelled her hair. "Do you know how well you smell? I've waited for years for you to ripen, for you to be pure, and you will be obedient, not at all like your whore of a mother. That bitch left me! You will not leave me."
He pulled her hair and kissed her lips, kissing her like a desperate beast. She felt sick. His daughter bit his tongue. "AGH!" He backed away, holding his lips with his fingers. He touched his tongue and licked his upper lip; there was some blood.
He turned to face his daughter. "You have the face of an angel but the mouth of a snake!" He pulled out a whip. "You need to be disciplined more." She screamed as he did his usual routine, but screaming was always pointless; O'Reilly soundproofed the house.
After he finished, he locked the room, went downstairs, drank more whiskey, and went to the kitchen, grabbing massive chunks of cow meat. He carried them; he struggled, but once he was outside, he tossed them to the ground. The hounds sprinted and began tearing the meat.
He sat there, continuing to drink as he watched them. He always had to watch the hounds while they ate; if he decided to leave, the hounds would attack him. Only after they finished would they obey him to a fault.
He trained the hounds to attack and kill his daughter if she ever left the house.
After they had finished, he walked the cobblestone street; homeless men were on every corner, the air smelled of trash, the streets were always unclean, and there was a bar every two houses.
O'Reilly entered one of the bars. There stood a man with nicely washed brown hair on the sides but bald on top. He was taller than O'Reilly, wore women's flats, a colorful suit, red lipstick, and black eyeliner. He smiled. "I have your usual girls, Mr. O'Reilly."
"I just hope the entertainment isn't as usual, Smith."
He was led to the back door; Smith took his coat, drank a glass of wine, and sat on a sofa with a white cat, stroking it. There were five women, all naked, dancing in front of him. One woman had a python over her head; the python slithered across her body, even lightly choking her throat. The python then went between her legs. She licked the snake's body and put its head in her mouth. O'Reilly wasn't impressed.
Another woman put her foot in his mouth; O'Reilly sucked her toes. She then poured whiskey over her leg, and the alcohol dripped down her foot into O'Reilly's mouth, but even this wasn't satisfactory to O'Reilly.
Next, the women started fingering each other and kissing; they sucked their nipples, but O'Reilly sat there stroking the white cat, unimpressed. "I need something interesting, Smith."
Smith then took the women out, knelt in front of O'Reilly, unbuckled his belt, and began to suck his penis. Smith licked it and went down, gently biting at the testicles. O'Reilly never moved. "It's pointless, Smith; I'm bored. Nothing amuses me."
Smith wiped his lips with a handkerchief. "Well, I do have one proposition for you, sir, but... no, it was nothing."
"Tell me."
"Well... there's this odd fellow who comes here, and he's a devil worshipper."
For the first time, O'Reilly was intrigued; he leaned in a bit. "Continue."
"Well... he never works any job but always has decent money, and the girls are obsessed with him; they pay him—could you believe that?"
"And the devil worshipping?"
"He insists there's not one devil but several and that they're very much real organisms that defy logic. He even wants to bring one back to life, but he needs an assistant; of course, no one wants to be near that man."
"Is he here?" O'Reilly said quickly.
Smith looked at him for a few silent seconds, his hands behind his back, before he said, "Why... yes, he is here."
"Take me to him."
Smith showed a worried look on his face, but knowing how O'Reilly was, he obliged.
In the main room of the whorehouse was the man. Smith led him directly to the young man and quickly left.
"Young man," said O'Reilly firmly.
"I do not have time for idle chit-chat."
"You are the devil worshiper, right?"
The young man told the girl to get off his lap and paid her. He then went to O'Reilly and whispered angrily, "If you are a cop, I do not care; I have done nothing."
"Fuck cops! I'm bored out of my mind! I want you to entertain me with your devil bullshit."
The young man leaned back and adjusted his tie. He was tall and had a gentlemanly haircut. He was in his 20s. "Very well then, my name is Frederick."
They shook hands.
As they walked outside, Frederick explained, "I have sought to resurrect my master for years. I've studied demonology, but of course, everything told in the Bible is not quite how it is in the real world. I won't bore you with details, but I can resurrect a devil."
O'Reilly listened with careful attention to detail. Frederick continued, "But we need the necessary parts—ah, here we are."
They entered a shop. The owner was a short, wide blonde-haired man who was overcome with anxiety once he saw Frederick. "No, please, no, sir!"
"I came for it, and now I shall have it," said Frederick, smiling arrogantly.
The owner was sweating, but he obeyed. Under the floorboards, he pulled out a metal box. He placed it on the table, took out a key, and opened it. Inside was another smaller metal box. He took another key and opened it as well. There, O'Reilly poked his head and saw it. It was a glass tube, and inside was ash, but the ash was red.
"What is this buffoonery?" he was upset.
"This is the devil's blood," said Frederick.
"It's just red powder."
"It's not, I assure you."
"You mean I should believe your word?"
"Yes!"
O'Reilly looked at the sweating owner. Frederick said, "Tell him how you found it."
The owner took a shaking breath. "I was traveling across the woods into a village when I heard loud grunts. There seemed to be a struggle. As I slowly snuck my way closer, I saw a knight stabbing this disgusting creature that was covered in blackness. It was a spring sunny day, but the creature looked like the manifestation of the darkest night. There was a bright golden light, and the creature screeched and died. It disintegrated, and its blood was black, but it slowly turned red, and what you see here is all that remained."
O'Reilly turned to Frederick. "You expect me to believe this shit?"
The owner jumped in. "I will only sell it to you for two thousand; even a quid less, I can't accept."
"And how do I know you two aren't conning me?" said O'Reilly.
Frederick pulled out a thousand and gave it to O'Reilly to check it. O'Reilly took off his gloves and felt the money in his hands. He placed it in the light and smelled it. He then gave his thousand in cash and pulled out a pistol. "I will blow both of your brains out if you are conning me."
The owner slowly took the money and backed away, "May the devil not harm you," he said as they took the glass tube.
Federick led O'Reiley to an abandoned church. There was a cemetery nearby. The fog lay low. The graves were unmarked, and wooden crosses stood on top of the ground. They were all torn and falling apart.
The old church was dirty; it was covered in fecal matter from birds. The windows were broken, and the bricks were clearly seen and decaying. Federick opened the door. It was pure black beyond it. O'Reiley held the handle of his pistol. Federick went first. He began to light the candles. Once the room could be clearly seen, he carefully stepped inside.
He looked left and right to make sure no one was hiding inside. Once fully inside the church, he relaxed his grip on the pistol. The wooden seats were filled with cobwebs, and the smell in the air was of old, dried-up, and peeling paint. The walls were filled with mold. In front was a statue of Jesus Christ; the head was missing.
Federick took a wine glass and poured a bit of the red powder inside it. He did the same with the other glass. He took one glass, walked to O'Reiley, and handed it to him. Federick pulled out a knife. O'Reiley was alarmed; he went for his gun, but Federick cut his own palm.
He let the blood drip into the wine glass. There was smoke coming from the red powder as if O'Reiley was holding a hot cup of coffee. The smoke ceased, but then the red powder turned to liquid. It was a red liquid that shot up and engulfed the glass. The liquid reached the top; it almost seeped out of the glass. Federick went to the other wine glass, did the same thing, and the same phenomenon happened.
Federick, with the glass in hand, looked at O'Reiley and said, "Now drink."
O'Reiley looked at it, pulled the glass to his nose, and smelled it. It was a strange odor; he couldn't put his finger on it; it smelled like nothing from this world. He couldn't decide whether the smell was good or bad; it was a pure oddity.
"Drink!" yelled Federick.
O'Reiley smelled it again and opened his lips slightly.
"Drink, damn you, drink!"
O'Reiley lowered the glass; he felt appalled by the liquid.
"Damn you!" Federick spat out. "Don't insult the master! Drink it! Drink! Drink, you spineless, pathetic coward!"
"YOU DRINK IT THEN! YOU DRINK THE FILTH!"
Federick looked down at his glass. He slowly placed the other hand over it; now he was holding it with both hands. He was hesitant before he chugged the entire liquid down his throat.
Midway through gulping it, he began choking. He screamed and sank to the floor. His mouth was filled with the red liquid, and it dripped down his chin. He crawled on the floor, gasping for air. "H..e...l..p!"
He grabbed O'Reily's pants by the knees. O'Reily was puzzled and horrified, and he kicked Frederick in the jaw, but Frederick continued to crawl toward him. O'Reily took out his gun and shot him in the head.
He ran away outside. Once inside the tows he stopped to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off. He pretended that nothing happaned.
Afterwards he took a cab home. Inside, he felt warm, but the sound the horse made annoyed him.
He reached his home and stood at the door but stopped. He heard something. He slowly walked over to the house and saw a young man. He looked up, and his daughter was at the window talking to him.
"HEY!" He pulled out his gun. "STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!"
The man ran off. It was dark, and O'Reily couldn't see him. O'Reily saw his hounds asleep. He entered the house, and his daughter came down. He slapped her face. "You have the face of an angel but the mouth of a snake, a little dirty liar you are, a betrayer! You have shamed this family!" He pulled her by the hair. "This is how you treat me!? Your creator, your god!" He slapped her again and dragged her to her room. O'Reily sealed her window with bricks. He went to his room and slept.
During the night, a deep fog settled in. A wind blew mildly, but the air was cold. O'Reily's window was opened. The breeze struck his face as he slept. It mildly annoyed him, but he was too tired to get up. He heard creaking inside his room.
His eyes opened with rapid speed. He was motionless before the creaking started again. Again in his room. He got up quickly but was slammed back into the bed, a hand covering his mouth.
He wiggled violently, but nothing fazed his attacker. O'Reily's eyes widened, and he was horrified to the point of sickness. A black hand covered his mouth. O'Reily was breathing rapidly through his nose, his chest rising and falling quickly.
The hand had long fingers with strong claws, but the face was putrid. A human-like face but devoid of any life. The face was grayish-yellow, the mouth full of sharp teeth drenched in a black liquid that oozed down like saliva. The mouth formed a small grin. The strange black liquid ran from its eyes, which were black with red pupils. The hair appeared human-like but floated in the air as if it were underwater. The ears were elongated and pointed. He saw that the chest was of pure darkness; O'Reily didn't see the rest of the body.
The creature was holding his face with its left hand. It raised its right hand and struck down. O'Reily screamed, but the left hand smothered his cries. The pain was horrible; the thing was tearing him apart. Suddenly, he felt a release, and he saw the creature holding his bloody heart in its hand. The heart was still beating.