The Devil's Disciple Book Novels & Stories

He turns the stairs wondering if Christian will run down to sit beside his now awake sister but after a few seconds he reclines more to the thought that he might be sleeping. He turns to them again and then nods to acknowledge Laurel as she gulps, nodding back…soft but acknowledging. He opts to sit beside Gabriel, now facing the family with a questionary eye. The devil and the healer. Feels like judgment day. “Hi, Laurel, do you know who I am?” he leans forward after getting a reassuring nod from Gabriel. Laurel nods.

A mistake was committed by stars to bring the two powers close. But the almighty never considered a possibility of odd angles. He searched for good even in a demon as to what other reasons he lets that abomination survive if it weren’t for redemption. He sees great in everyone and encourages them towards that golden path by throwing different schemes. He was aware that this set of spirits was highly contradictory and violent like the combination of ice and fire. So, he turned them, twisted them to fix the wounded bond until settled on one conclusion. The opposite and incompatible pair are not always vulnerable or doomed. Sometimes they could turn into the most fascinating subject. It was nev

The loud music and the smoke around here along with men having glasses in their hands and drooling over the strippers dancing on the pole give an absolute nefarious aura to this place. You guys must be wondering who am I ? so let me break the ice to you. I am Christopher Harris, another name for the devil you can say. I work in a mafia gang called Cobra which is run by Richard Scott. Richard has been running this business for the past 25 years. but now he wants to loosen up the burden from his shoulders by handing over it to someone capable of managing it as responsibly as he did. he has only one daughter, Sophia whom he doesn't want to be involved in this profession. he loves her very much.

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.

The teacher replied that this was a class about the country's history, not about Catholicism and such. "But, sir, fallen angels exist, right?" he asked. I raised my gaze since that question, for some reason, caught my interest. "Obviously, Mark, they are demons now," the somewhat exasperated teacher replied. "But are they on Earth in human form or are they spirits?" "Spirits." "How can you be so sure?" the boy insisted. "It's in the Bible, Mark, I recommend you read it; you'll find many of your questions there." "I've always thought fallen angels are like you and me, the fallen ones, of course, because the angels of light, I believe, are spirits. If the fallen ones are on Earth, why wouldn't

And then an unfamiliar house swims to the forefront, a large, boxy building sagging toward the mire on the same foundation as the one I had built. These thoughts belong to Amos, I realize. But the demon’s walked this swamp for the last time. The portal hungrily devours Amos’s soul. I don’t know if it’s dead, or if it’s just been sent back to hell. Honestly, I’d prefer that I never find out. I don’t fight as the spectral opening beckons me deeper. I’d made a deal with the devil. My soul has been forfeited since the very moment I first allowed Amos in.

Tiny things that would randomly appear within our heads while I used my time sparingly to help him as well. Each of us bouncing ideas for one of his latest projects. With a sketch pad in hand, Tony uses the afternoon to draw up sketches while I sat off towards the side of the room, my body covered by a blanket as I just read books upon my tablet. Fully immersed within my books, Deal with the Devil. My book about an Irish Enforcer who ends up falling for a Bratva Princess. A Bratva Princess who was also a ballerina and an illegitimate child of the Russian Mob Leader.

”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.

No women. “A devil with no weakness,” she murmured, the words barely louder than the crunch of the apple. Then a memory surfaced: the way he had devoured her the entire night, slow and relentless, as if her body were the only sin worth savoring. Her fingers tightened subconsciously around the book on devils she had just finished reading. Its pages had spoken of their insatiable hunger for untouched souls, pure, unchanging, untouchable. The moment a soul was altered in any way, it slipped forever from their grasp.

“Love the devil and power.” Zeddy was known as a cult member since his teenage days and with days, the loyalty in him grew into a small hut where bones and blood could be found if looked for. He knelt on his knees and uttered a final chant, “I am a disciple of the devil and I want the devil to sign my soul.” After saying this, he opened the cloth slightly on his chest and then brought the knife to his chest and carved the name Lilith there. Isabella screamed her heart out.