Demon Painter Novels & Stories

I'll just fart or something instead. I turn the faucet of hot water on the bathtub and throw in some bubble bath solution. While I wait for the bath to fill up, I strip off my shirt, vest, and pants, not to mention my boots, and step into the shower. Turning the faucet unleashes a spray of cold water on me, but it quickly heats up. The water runs through my hair and down my face and goes the rest of the way down my body. My wings that are wrapped around my torso relax and expand to their magnificent size. Being half angel and half demon automatically gives you wings too. But the wings aren't anything like the two. Angels have beautiful bird-like wings, like eagles and ospreys and hawks, whe

They shifted colors as I watched, from deep crimson to molten gold to pure black. “You’re real,” I breathed. “Very observant.” He stepped out of the circle as if it wasn’t there, moving with predatory grace. “I am Oberin. And you, little artist, have invoked a contract with a high-ranking lust demon. Do you have any idea what that means?” I scrambled backward, suddenly aware of how stupid this had been. “I—the book said—”

It was dangerous. Under the scorching sun, three formidable demonic beings stood ominously in front of the ancient pack house, emanating an aura of malevolence. Each demon possessed a unique appearance, reflecting their individual nature and power. The first demon stood tall and imposing with ebony skin and fiery crimson eyes. His long, jagged horns protruded from his forehead, and he carried a wickedly serrated sword crafted from blackened bones. The second demon was shrouded in a cloak of swirling shadows, making it difficult to discern her true form. Her skeletal fingers clutched a slender, obsidian staff topped with a glowing, pulsating orb of ethereal energy. The final demon had a hulki

“Come ou-“ before I could finish what was going to say his hands grip my hair and tilts my head so we’re face to face. Fuck. I reach my hands up as I simultaneously released a burst of power outwards. Demon powers are only at full strength in the underworld but up here it’s barely even a whisper. But the force that slammed into me and cancelled out my powers told me this Demon was on another level. He was one of the higher station hunters. “Now try not to struggle and let’s just go.” His voice was deep and low like if he was bored and I was an announce. I stay silent, shaking with rage.

“This is pristine compared to a tour bus.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to him—he didn’t speak much about his life in the band. All I really knew was that it ended badly, and that topic of conversation was completely off-limits. “Your art though . . . I knew you were a painter, but I’d never seen much of your personal work.” He looked almost awestruck by image of a demon in a state of abject agony as it melted away like candle wax—it was mixed medium, using real wax to make the demon appear to melt down the side of the canvas.

With a heart-wrenching scream, the purplish-red light in the void suddenly expanded and shook off all the golden-purple ‘Path’ characters. A brand-new supreme Demonic Body replaced the soul consciousness and the Demonic Spirit, revealing a mysterious and powerful, terrifying power emanating with vast evil. He had crimson hair, swaying without wind, dressed in a black and red python robe, with a blood-red flowing cloak draped behind him. He held a demonic spear that radiated daunting demonic energy. Thick purplish-red demonic clouds rolled above his head, and sixteen rapidly rotating skulls beneath his feet. It was like the arrival of a grim reaper, causing the world to change color.

It was then that Torelli’s red eyes betrayed him, they shone in the distance. Again, Jesse took after him in full blast. He timed his approach and fired his haunches. He flew through the air, aiming for the neck. But it was too strong to rip off. The two stared balefully at the other for a few seconds until Jake approached menacingly and stopped as well beside Jesse, snarling. ‘I shall fight, but not today’ the demon said, forming rapidly back to the priest’s form who fell flat. And then appeared on the horizon abound of black clouds drifting towards the alps. Bats!

With that, the demon walked out from the chambers, leaving behind the one thing he had always treasured the most. """""''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' With one final stroke of her finger on the wall, Skylar finally completed her art, her masterpiece. She stared at the blood-stained walls with glee, her eyes were back to the darkest shade of purple, her humanity vanishing again.

"Human... how are you..." Lucien Desrosiers, the Demon King of the dark court, took one stunned step back. The noise behind him died at once. The hall was packed with elders, guards, and newly chosen sacrificial consorts, yet everyone seemed to forget how to breathe. Someone whispered, "She is not afraid of him? The Demon King's whole body carries the lust-curse. Any woman who gets too close starts collapsing within three seconds. Why is she fine?"

I was the one to draw the circle, channel my power, and summon the demon. The piece of chalk in my hand glowed blue. Ordinary chalk, used by students everywhere, yet I put so much of my power inside it that the pentagram flashed with fire as soon as I started to draw it. I'm not sure how to put it; my necromancer's gift, my magic power, and my half-demon nature poured out of my fingers, soaking the chalk, sliding across the lines, which were coming to life right before our very eyes.