Speak Of The Devil Novels & Stories

Then they all looked at me. I paused in the middle of tying my duffel. “What?” “Where are you off to, Ice?” Delilah asked, using her annoying nickname for me. “You never said.” “Home,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Just… catching up on commissions. Sculptures. Stuff.” That was the part where I was supposed to nod and ramble about a family trip to Greece, or art camp in Italy, or something that made it sound like I had parents who even remembered I existed. Instead, I just shrugged and picked at a thread on my jeans.

His face didn’t hold any emotion like sadness or whatnot, but from his eyes, I could read it all. My lips parted at the realization. Was he really apologizing to me? Alejandro? The man whose authority could move mountains at will? The man they call IL DIAVOLO? ~The devil Was I dreaming? Yeah, maybe. That definitely had to be it. Never in a million years would Alejandro ever admit that he was wrong. No. I moved back a little to be sure I heard him correctly. “What?” I asked, and as if that snapped him back to reality, he frowned.

After a long moment, he stammered, "Y-you… you're a messenger of the Devil! Brothers and sisters, this one represents the Devil! Attack! We must kill this messenger—or the Devil will find us and kill us all!" He had always controlled people with his Devil theory. Hearing him speak now, the crowd stiffened, their eyes burning with murderous intent again. Ray smiled faintly. "Wrong… wrong… wrong. I am not the Devil's messenger. I am the Devil."

He shifted, leaned back, legs spread wider, one boot tapping the floor with lazy rhythm. “I’m sure you’ve heard of The Devil,” he said. His voice was smooth. Deep. Too calm. It wasn’t the kind of voice that threatened you. It was the kind that made promises you knew would come true, even if they were the kind to make your skin crawl. I blinked. “Only the one from the Bible.” He chuckled. Low. Warm. Wrong. “Are you religious, Luca?” He said my name. It sounded like silk being pulled tight against my throat.

“I’m going to bury myself inside of you until you collapse from exhaustion!” Inner Devil: ‘Ahhh! I want! I want!’ Inner Devil 2: ‘What? I guess it’s time to schedule my funeral. I’m dying a happy woman! Someone tell my parents, I lived a fruitful life!’

"And I said-" "I'm not your friend, Sophia. I'll use you, I'll make sure there's no bone in that body that won't do as I say and when I'm done with you, you'd regret you ever met a devil like me, cause Sophia bambina... I'm a Devil you should run away from." And the stare he gave me said everything he didn't say. He was a Devil and I should run!! TBC

she mocked “You should consider yourself lucky I'm talking to you” he said “(Laughs) I should consider myself lucky for talking to the devil? Don’t you know that to men that sounds like death” she asked “You are the first human I have spoken to personally and physically in a long time” he said “Really? Tell, me who are those you have spoken to a long time ago” she asked “very few” he said “I want to know those you have manipulated like myself” she said and he smiled

“What’s going on Legion?” “There is a problem downstairs.” “What?” “The Burning Devils President Pyro is down there looking for you Angel.” They both looked to me, but what the hell should I tell them.

The baby stirred, a calm, steady pulse. Aunt Dee watched quietly from a distance, understanding settling into her expression. The ancestors’ voices echoed one last time through the realm: “The devil’s greatest act of defiance is not destruction— It is devotion.” Far away, the hunters drew closer. But for the first time since the prophecy began, Malik knew exactly where he stood. And he would not move.

I heard the shower running and made my way there. “Can you believe that bastard?!” I almost shouted. Cara let out a scream as I barged in. I ignored her and sat on the toilet lid. “Could you at least knock?! What if I was shaving?” “Sorry. Back to my problem.” I said dismissively, and she poked her head out of the shower to look at me. “I talked to the Devil.” “What Devil?” “That Devil, Damiano.” “Ah. Why? Miss him?” She winked, but I only scowled.