Too lost in his head, when Father Murray looked down at the boy on the rack he only saw Raphael staring back at him. “I’ll break you,” he promised again.
“No,” the boy begged, but his voice was all wrong. It wasn’t the voice Father Murray needed to hear. He needed to hear that raspy voice tell him he had won. “Please!”
Father Murray shook with rage at the sound of the whiny voice. Using all his strength, he thrust the wheel of the rack forward. The boy screamed, and cracks and snaps echoed off the stone walls. Without even looking at the boy’s broken corpse, Father Murray stormed from the room and along the hallway. Seeing a trainee priest, he snapped, “The boy is dead. Get rid of the body.” Father Murray kept on walking until he reached his private quarters. He slammed the door and bolted it, then moved to his decanter of whiskey. He poured a large glass and stared at the picture he had pinned on the wall. Rage boiled inside him, threatening to wake the darkness that lay asleep in his soul. For a moment, he let that darkness free. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out his knife and charged at the wall. The blade sank in deep. Father Murray bared his teeth. The picture was almost destroyed, but the golden eyes that Father Murray hated so much stared back, mocking him.
“I’ll kill you, I promise,” he growled, the whiskey fueling his words.
Breathless at his momentary lapse of control, Father Murray backed away and stared at the school picture of Raphael he had salvaged from the archives of Holy Innocents’ vault.
Raphael had Sister Maria.
“She’s nothing, Father Murray,” Father Quinn had said when she had disappeared from the club. “She was a nun who easily shed her chastity. Like all women, she is a product of Eve. Weak and easily tempted. She was disposable. I hope he killed her slowly.” Father Quinn placed his old hand on Father Murray’s shoulder. “We will get them. Our day with the Fallen will come. The Lord will soon show us another path.”
Father Murray pulled at his hair. He didn’t care if Sister Maria was dead. He cared that Raphael had bested him again.
His skin itched with fury. His muscles twitched with the need to do something. To go after the heathen. Father Quinn had to reconsider his stance. Before Father Murray could see sense, he jumped out of his chair, the buzz from the whiskey in his blood taking the wheel. He stormed down Purgatory’s barren hallway until he arrived at Father Quinn’s door. Without even knocking, Father Murray slammed his way through the high priest’s quarters. He stopped at the desk. Father Quinn was changing his robes, his bare chest on display. Father Murray’s cock hardened as he looked at the man who had been his teenage savior. The man who had rid him of his own demon.
Father Quinn paused in his dressing. Father Murray knew the high priest must have returned from cleansing a child.
“Father Murray.” Father Quinn’s voice was neutral in tone, but Father Murray felt the shivers race down his spine at the angered expression on his face. “You weren’t invited in here.”
“We have to get Sister Maria,” he snapped. Father Quinn dropped his shirt to the floor. The zipper of his slacks were open, his underwear’s band visible underneath. “He can’t have her. He needs to be stopped. I’m sick of them winning! Sick of their sins and evil ways.”
Father Murray panted after his tirade. Father Quinn was deathly silent, until, “Come here, Francis.” Father Murray lost his breath as Father Quinn stepped back from his desk by a foot. The high priest’s cock hardened under his slacks. With Father Murray’s attention still on him, Father Quinn pulled out his length. “In front of me, demon.” Father Murray felt the demon inside him scuttling away to hide. But he ignored the rushing of his evil-tainted blood and moved to Father Quinn. Turning, Father Murray bent over his high priest’s desk, lifted his robes, and pulled down his pants. His hands lay flat on the old wooden desk before him. He felt Father Quinn take hold of hips, and he held his breath as Father Quinn pushed inside him. Father Murray’s eyes rolled back. This was what he needed. Like when he was a boy, he needed Father Quinn to rid him of his evil, keep the devil at bay. Sweat beaded on Father Murray’s forehead as pleasure began to build in his groin. He fought back a moan, but the sound slipped from his lips. Father Quinn stilled. The older man leaned over him, and Father Quinn’s mouth met his ear. “I cleanse you of the evil in your soul.” He slammed into Father Murray. Father Murray cried out, but Father Quinn didn’t stop. Instead, he pushed on, Father Murray’s cock growing impossibly hard. Then Father Murray felt it. The agonizing rush of pain in his erection. He glanced down to see Father Quinn’s hands on his cock, a fine needle being pushed into the tip. Blood poured from him, lancing the evil from his flesh. His cock quickly lost its erection, and Father Quinn released inside him, purifying him of the ever-threatening darkness that would forever dwell inside him.