Devil Spawn Novels & Stories

“A favor. That 's it. I don’t have anything in mind, yet. But when I do, I’ll call for you, you’ll answer me. No matter what. Otherwise, the deal is broken and you’ll get back to this shithole.” Mia breathed heavily. A favor? Get out of there? “Are you the Devil?” she asked. She still remembered some of the things her mother had told her. Mia shook her head, avoiding thinking too deeply about her mother. “Who cares? Does it matter?” “It does! I don’t want no deal with the Devil!” “You’re too picky, for someone who is about to become a worker in a brothel. Not only you, but your little doll of a sister.”

others asked the team member, who was crying in pain. “My leg,” the person answered, and with that, everyone got a burning pungent. It was horrible. They all hold their nose and took a step ahead. Ultimately, they saw the scene which shook their core. Although they were conscious, their subconscious minds told them they were in a dream. How could skin be charred without fire? “Who are you fucker?” everyone asked in unison. “Satan!” the first word fell and resumed in the next second, “The king of hell! Father of demons. Ruler of souls.” As soon as the words ended, the figure took his actual form. With two horns and a tail, the devil was standing in front of them.

He nodded slowly, then laid the tile down next to the others. I looked at it. My unease grew, because it looked like a bullfrog crossed with a man. Oddly enough, it looked like . . . The creature from the Black Lagoon. “The ‘Other’ is Chiao, the Water Demon. According to legend he capsized boats, devoured men, and ravished women. He was . . . different from the Sacred Four.” I cleared my suddenly dry and tight throat. “How?” Mr. Trung tipped his head. “The Four exact a price for attempting to reach the Gateway, but they are sacred, honorable, bearing your essence away to be judged accordingly. Chiao is an Abomination. It consumes your very essence, making you part of it for all eternity.”

Then he pulled a letter from his desk and handed it to me. I read it, my blood running cold. The words were sharp and cruel, filled with hatred and threats. I could feel the venom dripping from every sentence. To the Devil of Vercelli, You have taken what is ours. You have built your empire on the bones of our family. But we are coming for you. We are coming for your wife. We are coming for your son. And we will take everything from you, just as you took everything from us. The Serpents of the South.

The Devil found himself wanting something he couldn't simply buy. Someone.

This is forever. “Here lies Lucian D’Argento—devil to the world, but a man who loved enough to conquer death.” [TOPE]

“I am beyond thrilled to see you are even standing with Seraphina. Are you here to make a deal or something, Devil?” “I don’t make deals with people I want to kill,” Finn coldly replied, his eyes emotionless as he surveyed Ryker. “You’ve already reserved a spot in Hell with all these spirits, so no deal for you.” With that, he incinerated a group of the female spirits from Elysium Haven right in front of Seraphina.

”Nice flowers.” Wendy commended as soon as Rebecca entered the room. Rebecca on the other hand didn’t pay attention to what was said. She was lost in a world of her own thought. She didn’t see the face of the biker, but from the sound of his voice, she could tell who it was. It was a voice she would recognize anytime, any day. The voice of the devil who haunts her in her dream. A pat on the shoulder brought her back to reality. She jerked and the flower slipped from her hands, but Wendy caught it before it could fall to the floor.

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

Leon The fucking screams still echoed in my head. Didn’t matter how many hours I had spent in the dungeon. It wasn't enough. My knuckles were raw. My shirt stained. I could still feel the steel under my palms. Still see the blood. But those bastards… they were holding out. Paid in fucking casho, no names, no faces. The same shit over and over again. It wasn’t enough. I needed more blood. More pain. I needed to rip them apart until they begged to fucking die.