THE PRIEST

The church was always cold at that time of the year. So cold it was foolish to go there without a pair of gloves and a proper coat. Arthur had forgotten this when he woke up, rushing to get to the church in an exhausting panic. The sun was not out yet when he stepped inside the chapel, but the altar was well lit and someone was sitting in the front row already. It was as if the Priest always knew when Arthur was coming. The boy walked up to him, with his legs weak from running, and his nose red from the cold air.

The priest glanced up, with his big blue eyes wide open, seemingly perplexed. Perhaps he wasn’t all that knowing of Arthur and his impulsive visits to the church. His shoulders tensed up watching the boy pant.

“God be with you, Arthie. You’re here early.”

“Father,” Arthur kneeled down, in despair, taking the Priest’s warm hands. The heat spread on his skin like a disease. “Please, Father, you must help me!”

The man did not shake him off or flinch. Then again he never did. He was always calm and collected when Arthur found himself at the edge of his darkest fears. He was the strength Arthur needed. The support he craved. He was much more than that, of course. But Arthur wasn’t allowed to think of it.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“I can not take this. I can not take these dreams anymore. Please, help me. Free me from this demon, Father! I beg of you!”

Edward stood up and turned his body to Arthur, letting his thumbs reach Arthur’s face to wipe his tears away. Arthur was tall and strong. But on his knees with his eyes pouring tears, he returned to a vulnerable tender age and forgot himself.

“I have tried to help you. As you have seen, your demon is immune to me. Your perversions are stronger than any word I can say to you. I’m afraid I failed you, child.”

Arthur’s chin trembled against Father Edward’s index finger.

“Please, Father.” Arthur said, embracing the man’s legs. “There must be something you can do to unburden me. Please, don’t give up on me. You’re the only light I have.”

Edward petted his soft golden hair. Every part of Arthur was lovely, but his hair always made Edward find him in the crowd while he was giving sermons. He was a good looking young man all around. From head to toe, Arthur was an example of prime beauty. It might have been one of the reasons he was chosen to be cursed. Or maybe the sin was born with his appealing nature. 

His lips were red and filled similarly to women’s. His eyes were a warm shade of green, brighter in the summer when they walked in the woods than now, in the middle of an ugly winter which left them lifeless in the absence of sunlight. His nose was strong and tall, and his shoulders were large, proper for labour. He had the sort of structure of an ancient hero with the colouring of a prince and the smile of a saint. And even when he was sad and crying, his face was still only worthy of being looked at with the most utter devotion.

It made him a perfect trap for evil searching for a disguise.

When Arthur confessed the first time, Edward had acted quickly, trying to heal him and purify his spirit with hard work and scriptures. He thought that with time, Arthur would return to his right state of mind and forget those vile fantasies making him sick. All the efforts had no long effect on the boy. He was weaker than his urges. He was far too beautiful, too savage, too reckless for any of Edward’s tricks to work. He was lost. He was Edward’s greatest failure.

“That is your mistake. I am not the light, I am only your guide to it.”

“Will you please listen to my confession? I have to tell you,” Arthur sobbed, holding onto the Priest’s hands.

“I will listen.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Arthur gasped for air, having his face contaminated by tears. “I had strange dreams. And thoughts. I…”

Arthur exhaled with his eyes closed, having Edward’s gentle cold hand brush his hair from his face. “Tell me.”

“I dreamt with flesh. Man’s flesh. I thought of sodomy.” Arthur cried against the priest. “I touched myself, but not just for release, I– I craved those thoughts. I used my fingers inside of me.”

Edward blinked, staring at the distance instead of looking down and risking himself. Arthur was repulsive at times. In the pitts of his despair, he made Edward sick to his stomach.

“I thought of a certain man. I imagined his manhood, hard and thick, inside of me. I stained myself imagining him taking my body. I wish–” He felt his lungs run out of air. Tears rolled down his warm face. “I wished with all my heart to please this man. I wished I could strip my clothes in front of him and have his hands on my skin,”

“Desecrating your body even more?”

“Yes,” Arthur gasped. “If only I could be so happy.”

“That is not true happiness, Arthur.”

“Father. I dreamt of you,” Arthur declared, closing his fist around Edward’s hand. “And I am only happy when I’m with you. You have been my sole source of happiness in these desperate times. You– I love you.”

Edward took a deep breath. He always wondered if it was a mistake to take in Arthur and his problems instead of telling his parents and letting them deal with the boy. If tradition served him right, Arthur would be hanged or stoned by his foul behaviour. Then Edward would have peace and he would pray Arthur found it too. Instead, he kept the boy’s secret and opened his arms to Arthur hoping to rid him of his sins.

He had only made him worse. When he had confessed his urges for the first time it did not surprise Edward that much. Often young boys had the same confession, the same thoughts. Usually it would fade with time and proper discipline. Boys became men, men chased women, they got married and forgot their boyish troubles easily.

Arthur’s immorality, although very secretive and well kept, had only grown. Edward was to blame. He often caught Arthur staring into his lips or trying to catch Edward’s gaze in church. Most of his confessions didn’t sound as sorry as this. He seemed relieved, even amused, to speak such dirty words to the Priest, to share his visions, to make Edward know exactly what he wanted from him. The devil was alive in him, and Edward was tired of ignoring it.

“You are happy with me because I gave you my friendship. Not my body.”

Arthur looked up to his Priest, and let his hands slide away from the tight grip he previously had around Edward’s hands to Edward’s legs. His expression had changed already, despite the tears still filling his now dark eyes.

“I would be happy if you gave me both.”

“Such greed would be your end.” Edward pulled his robe back.

“I wish you could love me.”

“I do love you. As any man can love another. Purely.”

“Yes, yes, a pure love. A brotherly chaste love. But why can’t men love each other carnally?”

“You know it is a sin.”

“But why?”

“You are pushing my patience with these questions.”

“Don’t you ever question yourself, Father?” His hand moved to the Priest’s lower part, having his face grabbed. “Ever? I find that hard to believe for such a clever man. Don’t you ever think of it?”

“Stop it.” He demanded, taking grip of Arthur’s face a little harshly. “You will stop this at once!”

Arthur saw a chance and took it. With Edward’s hand so near his mouth he moved his head and licked his palm, making the man flinch and pull his hand back as if he had been cut.

“I do not wish to stop.” Arthur spoke with his lips still parted, his gaze still filled with such profanity Edward thought the church would crumble and bury them alive for it. That poisonous gaze. How could someone have such thoughts in such a holy place? How could he dare? Edward felt his blood boil. On his hands and knees, Arthur crawled towards Edward who walked back stumbling against the altar’s steps.

“You always say it’s a sin, but you never explain to me why it is so wrong to feel the way I feel. You only call it sickness and talk of demons because it is what you were taught to do. You don’t believe it though.”

Edward raised his voice. “Is that really what you think, Arthur?”

The boy pierced him with his cold gaze. “I think you pretend you know things. I think you think of me, Edward. All the time.”

“That’s enough. I have had enough of your sickness. I will talk with your parents and–”

Arthur’s hand was inside his cassock, touching him, feeling what shouldn’t be felt. He laid his head against Edward’s knee, closing his eyes, consoled like a child on a mother’s lap. Edward grabbed his shoulders, squeezing him trying his best to push him away from his shame. Arthur only laughed, having his wrists grabbed.

“You want me. The way I want you. Will you deny it when the evidence is so clear?!”

“Leave! I don’t want to throw you out of the house of God by force.”

“No, you don’t. You want me, Edward. Say it.”

Edward lifted his hand and slapped Arthur across the face as hard as he could. In all their months together, in all the nasty words, the crying sessions, the empty promises Arthur had given him, Edward had never raised his hands to the boy. Punishing him was not the way to lead him back to the light. He yearned to inspire Arthur to be good again. And yet, this seemed inevitable.

“I should have done this a long time ago.”

Arthur looked up, touching his cheek with his fingertips. He almost looked pleased, staring at the priest slightly surprised.

“Go on and strike me, Father. You think this wounds my heart? You only prove me right. You feel guilty. You feel guilty because you want me. Don’t you, Father?”

“Forgive me, Arthie.” He said quickly, in a cold tone. “I have failed you. I can not help you.”

“Are you giving up on me? On my poor lost soul? Am I not a sheep of your flock any longer?” Arthur mocked.

“I will find someone else that can get rid of this demon you have in you. I will have you exorcized and purified. I swear to you.”

“What about your demon?” Arthur reached for his hard member again. He was slapped again. And again. And the Priest only stopped when he heard Arthur whine in a soft moan.

Arthur’s cheeks were red and heated but the boy’s spirit was not broken or even damaged. He was practically gasping when Edward lifted his chin to make him look up at him. Arthur closed his lips proudly, and inhaled deeply as if victory had arrived. His lips were dry to the point that the skin ripped with the hits, leaving him bleeding. Edward did not think of doing it but his thumb scrubbed the blood clot, staining his own skin. He could barely react when Arthur’s tongue slid, licking his bottom lip. Their gazes crossed and held as the Priest took his thumb to his own mouth and cleaned his skin from Arthur’s blood and saliva, feeling his thighs grabbed by Arthur again.

“The more you hit me, the more it grows on you, doesn’t it? You want to hurt me so badly, it infects you. Boils your blood.”

“You have no idea what I want.”

“But I do! Your heart desires to hurt me. To punish me. I understand that!” Arthur declared softly, his eyes watery once again. “I know I give you more reasons to despise me than to love me. But what I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. I love you so dearly, Edward. You’re my heart. My strength.”

“Don’t say that!” Edward reached for his face, having Arthur let his head fall into the Priest’s strong hand.

“I don’t deserve to be saved by you. But if someone can save me it is you. Not God, or anyone else. You.”

“You must stop this madness. Please,” Edward gasped, having Arthur caress him. His friendly hand was so much more like a claw then. He was becoming a beast, in holy grounds, and Edward was letting him. Arthur’s weaknesses were spread. The fabric of his clothes was lifted and his shame exposed to the empty Church, making him have to hold himself to the benches. “I have no peace to give you, Art.”

“But I do, Father. I bring you peace. Accept it.”

His back was already turned to the cross, to the altar where he spoke and sang to his Lord. It was already shameful that he had been enraged at Arthur’s behaviour. It left him with no dignity to let Arthur’s urges infect his own mind when he should guide Arthur to the right path. But to allow Arthur’s demon to take control, to destroy himself with such a wicked sense of pleasure, that was unforgivable. He would never save enough souls to amend this corruption.

His face was so warm that his tears felt cool falling down his face. He looked at Arthur. His eyes were closed, but Edward could see he was crying as well. Were those the demon’s tears of joy or Arthur’s grief for the part of him that he was killing? Edward was not sure. Arthur held on to Edward’s waist, holding the fabric up, and remained on his knees as if he was praying.

The priest grabbed him by the back of head, pulling him golden hair to force his movements to be faster. Arthur moaned, making Edward feel it. His mouth was warm and it was all Edward could feel apart from the guilt burning him within. The pleasure dove into his stomach in waves until relief came in the back of Arthur’s throat. Arthur drank Edward as if he was wine, erasing evidence of what had just happened. Not that he could.

Arthur did not attend mass later that week, which was not helpful for Edward who was barely holding on to his sanity. He could not sleep, haunted by the tingling feeling of Arthur’s mouth on him. He desecrated the church he was meant to protect. He failed every soul in that town by soiling himself in a moment of weakness, not putting up a fight for his own virtue. It was all like a nightmare. In fact, he tried to convince himself it was all a nightmare. He had a filthy nightmare with Arthur, of course, that was all. But he could not lie to God, even if he could lie to himself.

And now Arthur didn’t even dare to come to church. It was better in a way. Edward didn’t trust himself to not kill Arthur with his own hands in front of the congregation. They had already committed such an atrocity together, why not another one? Their souls were beyond redemption. The demon in Arthur’s body had spread to him. No, no, That wasn’t true. That couldn’t be. He could still save Arthur. He could find an exorcist and talk to Master Linwood, letting him know Arthur was ill. 

It would lead the members of the Church to question him on his knowledge. It could ruin him. But maybe he could save Arthur. And if he saved Arthur, maybe he could save himself or at least have a clear conscience. He could rid Arthur of that deep darkness taking roots on him. After mass, he spoke with some people, and luckily Evelyn Linwood between them.

“I was wondering where Arthur is. He always escorts you.”

“I know, it’s a shame. He’s very sick, Father. He’s so much like a child at times. He caught a cold.”

“Does he get sick easily?”

“Always has. When he was a boy he would scare me with his fevers. We spent some terrifying nights looking after him.” She nodded. “But he survived all of it and became stronger. Not strong enough to not catch colds.”

“Do you think those illnesses ever affected his mind?”

Evelyn pouted, considering it. “I can not say I have thought of that, Father. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. He always seems like such a happy person.”

“He is!” She smiled. “He is a bright boy.”

“Please tell him I wish him a speedy recovery.”

“He will be delighted to know that. He has a great deal of affection for you, Father. I think you inspire him into the path of faith.”

Edward blinked. “How so?”

“Well, he spends so much time in Church. And when he is home he is always praying in his room. He seems to have no interest when I speak of marriage. He simply does not care for it.” Evelyn rolled her crucifix on her hand. “It is not the life that I pictured for him but if he wants to give his life to God…”

“You would be proud of him.”

“I am proud of him. My Art is a good boy. And God knows, Springhollow could use more men of faith.”

Edward wanted to agree with her. There was much to be said about the strangeness of that cold, forgotten town. There was a mist in the air of hopelessness, as if the end was near but only in those lands. 

Three years before, the town was attacked with bad weather and some good folks had their houses ruined. Many had died. Arthur Linwood was always there, helping people fix their homes, trying to make sure the men that lost their sons wouldn’t drown themselves in sorrows and in alcohol, or that the widows and mothers did not feel lost in grief. He was a good person. 

It was easy to love Arthur since Arthur loved everyone so easily. He was the town’s prince, everyone's son. Edward wondered how much everyone’s hearts would turn if they saw the demons festering inside of Arthur and what they made him do.

“Do you mind if I pay Arthur a visit?”

Arthur was said to be in bed, sleeping, but Edward was allowed in. He had not left the bedroom in days, according to the maid. Edward walked closer and closer until he gathered courage to sit on the bed, watching the boy. He seemed at peace, finally. Edward blinked, utterly angry at the realisation. He was sick because his body was free from evil after months of possession. The evil lived in Edward now. It was his burden.

Arthur’s hair fell over his rosy cheek and with no hesitation Edward brushed it away, having Arthur’s face exposed to him. The Priest wasn’t sure if he had ever noticed how soft and blond his eyelashes were. Edward’s gaze lowered to Arthur’s bare shoulder as he pulled Arthur’s cotton shirt to cover his collarbone. He was not careful to not brush his finger against Arthur, as he should have been, feeling how feverishly warm the boy was.

The demon is in me. Edward realised, fighting the urge to press his hands on Arthur’s smooth skin. The demon wants his flesh. This was what Arthur must have felt before, whenever he tried to seduce Edward.

The priest covered his mouth, flinching away as he stood, making enough noise for Arthur to wake up, startled. He looked up at Edward and then at his bloody sleeves, trying to hide them.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Arthur asked, tugging himself under the sheet which Edward pulled down. Arthur had dirty bandages covering his arms. Edward peeled them off, holding Arthur’s arm to study the imperfect fresh cuts on his skin. The pitiful look on his face left no room for doubt.

“What did you do to yourself?!”

For a moment he thought Arthur was going to cry. Instead he just smiled weakly, looking more like an angel than the demonic figure he had been on his knees. He’s free from sin.

“Penitence. I crave your forgiveness. I must deserve it.”

“It is not my forgiveness you must crave! It is God’s!”

“I have not offended God. It was you whom I have hurt.”

“Then ask me for forgiveness.”

“Oh, Edward.” Arthur mumbled, so affectionately it felt as if he had kissed the priest by calling his name. “I can not. You’re too kind. This is better, I must suffer this way. I will hurt myself everytime I want you. Then, perhaps  the demon will leave my body. Perhaps I will kill it this way.”

“You could kill yourself, Arthur!”

“If that is the price of purity,” He shrugged. “I must endure it.”

“No. You are free from it, Arthur.” Edward held his hand. “The demon is gone from you. It made its way to my body, you can rest now. You will not be sick anymore.”

Edward frowned innocently. He was twenty-two, a man made though Edward would easily forget it. Especially when he looked like that, innocent and drowsy.

“No,” Arthur whispered. “You can’t–”

“It is my burden to carry.”

“But it shouldn’t be! You must not suffer because of me, Father! Give it back, I will take it!”

“He would kill you in time. It is best to be in my body than in yours, child.”

“I can survive him! Please,”

Edward petted his face. “The demon feeds on your suffering. You must stop feeding him. As will I.”

Arthur laid his head on his pillow with his heart broken. “It’s not possible. The demon is still here. I know it. I can still hear the voices, Father.”

“What voices, Arthie?” The priest tried to cup the boy’s face but Arthur turned away, his eyes becoming darker suddenly, as all candles burnt out and sank the room in darkness. “Arthur?”

“I can’t tell him apart from myself.” He whispered. In the shift of a breath, his voice deepened. “Maybe I am the demon.”

Edward’s thumb rubbed Arthur’s lips to erase his words.

“Don’t say that. Your heart is good and full of kindness. The demon took hold of you for too long, but you remember who you are. You are a good boy, Arthie.”

Arthur turned his neck so quick to him, Edward flinched, stepping back in pure fright. “Do you truly believe that, Edward?”

Edward raised his eyebrows. The boy smiled once again. His softness was replaced by a wicked grin.

“I know your heart is good.” Edward muttered, unsure of himself.

“My heart is yours, Edward.”

“Call me ‘Father’.”

“Do you wish you were my father, Edward?” Arthur asked with a sweet malice in his voice which Edward could not recognise. “Do you wish we could live under the same roof to slip into my bedroom at night and fuck me without vows stringing you away?”

Edward gulped, feeling his heartbeat hard against his ribs. He lifted his hand to the beads on his neck and clutched them. “I was wrong. The devil is here.”

Arthur rubbed his bare legs together, obscenely, growing breathless. His nails scratched his thighs in bloody deep lines. He lifted his torso from the mattress and sat up to watch Edward. The scratching did not cease, his bony fingers seemed more like claws, cracking up and down his pale skin.

“The devil, the devil, the devil. You blame everyone but yourself. You thought of nothing but this mouth for days and nights, didn’t you, Edward? You would exorcize the mouth that made you so happy after a life of miserable chastity. I never understood why men like you refuse what’s most natural to them.”

The priest shivered, frozen with tension in his place. Arthur removed his nightgown, tossing it on the floor to expose himself. Not Arthur, Edward tried to remember. It was a demon. A demon was kneeling on the bed, using Arthur’s body the way children used dolls to entertain themselves. The demon let Arthur’s head fall and rolled it from side to side in a slow stretch. His claw reached for Arthur’s manhood, stroking it slowly while observing the priest.

“You thought of this body. Is it the way you expected?” He tilted his blond head. “I reckon it must be better, or your eyes would be able to turn away. This boy is lovely, isn’t he?”

“Release him,” Edward whispered. The demon brushed Arthur’s hands from parted thighs up his torso, rubbing himself between sighs and more vocal sounds that poked Edward like knives. With his arms above his head, the demon bit his lip — Arthur’s filled red lip — and blinked. “Let go of such a lovely thing? For what reason? I can make such good use of him. Arthur, the golden boy. He was made with tenderness, don’t you think?”

Edward did think that. All the time. Arthur was beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Painfully mesmerising, the way the sun was. Bright and blinding. If eyes could pay tribute, Arthur would be the richest man in town. Edward knew that better than ever.

“I will kill you.” Edward announced quietly. “If you do not leave him be.”

“Will you?” The demon raised a pale eyebrow. “Tell me then. Will you kill the boy too or just me?”

Edward felt his chest shrink as his heart seemed to fade at the realisation. “If I have to, I will.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a grin. “Not very kind for a man of God to abandon a child in need. But I expect nothing less from a filthy, lying, cowardly creature such as yourself. The boy was a fool to love you. Such beauty should have devoted itself to a more satisfying fate. He could have been a king among men. If only he got on his knees to different gods.”

“Leave him alone. Have me.”

“Do you love this boy, Priest?” The demon asked, entertained. “His heart beats for you, the poor child. He truly believed you could save him.”

“I still can! Trade places with me.” Edward tried. “He might please you but he doesn’t have my blood. I am who you want. Let the boy go. What could he offer you?”

“This body is better than yours. Stronger, younger. Prettier.” He smiled, though he searched Edward with his dark gaze. “But it’s true. Your blood might be more useful.”

“Then have me.”

“You have me.” The demon laid back. “Possess me yourself and I will pass onto you.”

“No,”

“Why fight it? You have lived in shame for so long. When will it end for you?” The demon frowned. “You have hated men for so long for their effects on you. You even had some of them killed for their nature, in the name of God. All because you couldn’t accept yourself. And now you will let your favourite die for your own pride? Where is the sanctity of that, holy Shepard?”

Edward felt his mocking tone in his own throat, as if it were a knife. The demon knew too much. Edward didn’t dare blink, afraid he would see the face of every man he refused to love and who had ended up hanged for the same sin he kept close to his heart. The same sin Arthur was paying for. Love. Impure love, according to their laws. The laws of men and God alike. Love nonetheless.

The demon reached for Edward’s pinky finger and slowly pulled. “Save your Arthur. Love truly for once. Once I have you, you will be lost forever. Your soul will never reach heaven. Stain yourself for love. It’s a pleasant thing, I swear.”

“Then let me have him.” Edward asked, leaning into the trap. “Bring him back, let it be Arthur I have. Please.”

The demon laughed, letting his head fall back as Edward laid with him. Edward almost choked, running out of air when he pressed his mouth on Arthur’s neck, earning a vulnerable sound. He felt the body under him twitch. And he knew then by the weakness in his voice that it was Arthur and nothing else. He pulled back enough to look Arthur in the eyes, witnessing how dazed and surprised the boy was before the priest pushed him into a kiss. How could such sweet lips be a trap? How could such a lovely display of affection be sinful? It could not. That was the only answer Edward seemed to find in his heart. That was not sinful, or unholy, or unnatural. It was perfectly good, it was a gift. He kissed Arthur again, this time finding his lips parted and space for their tongues to move against each other. 

Arthur felt trouble breathing, but mostly he felt his heart beat faster and his face and ears burn up from having the great realisation that he was not alone after all. The Priest thought of him. He wanted Arthur. Dreams did become reality. Arthur’s eyes watered as he smiled. Edward parted ways with Arthur’s mouth to watch the boy’s eyes open slowly, as if he was waking from a dream.

“I love you, Father.” Arthur announced.

Edward almost ripped his layers of clothing, ridding himself with Arthur’s help of everything that could separate him from Arthur’s skin. With fingers moist only by Edward’s saliva, Arthur was uncomfortable with the sudden penetration. He felt Edward’s bony calloused fingers inside of him. It wasn’t as enjoyable as he imagined it being for so long. But it made it less hurtful when Edward pulled his legs spread open in the air to push himself inside.

Edward could see every part of Arthur’s body and it was not fair how polished he looked, from his silky blond curls to his toned torso. His pale skin was only damaged by the cuts he had made in his arms. The rest of him was immaculate, completely and utterly without flaw. As if God himself had sculpted him. No wonder the devil had picked such a delightful picture.

“Father,” Arthur moved his hips along the priest. He smiled weakly with cheeks flushed. “I love you so much.”

Edward kissed his open mouth again and again, thrusting harder.

“I love you so–” Arthur gripped the mattress, feeling his legs tense. “I worship you. I pray to you at night, Father. I ask for your love, for your forgiveness,”

Edward felt him tight all around, but especially as his legs wrapped around Edward’s torso.

“I only want you, Edward.” He whispered. His breathing quivered as did his body. “Edward.”

Edward squeezed his thighs, releasing his seed inside Arthur. He felt the world tremble into darkness and numbness. Everything stopped. It was all so quiet apart from their breathing.

Edward felt a tear down his cheek. “You are carved in my heart, Arthur.”

Arthur had his eyes closed when he first felt the Priest’s hands slide through his throat, grabbing him as harshly as he could.

“Father–”

“The devil is alive in you, you must die.” Edward whispered with tears in his eyes. “It will die with you,”

“Edward!” He called in a strangled noise, struggling to get Edward’s hands off him.

“I love you, Arthur. Art. Sweet, lovely boy.” Edward tried to smile at him, crying harder than he could control. He pressed his fingers on Arthur’s throat hard, until his red eyes lost their light and his body stopped moving. There Edward remained, on top of Arthur’s naked dead body, weeping silently into his hands. He pulled Arthur’s head to his face, cradling it while it was still warm. “Oh, my love. I’ve loved you endlessly. On many nights, in silence and guilt. I will love you until my end.”

If he was a better man he would have taken Arthur away a long time ago. He would have held his hand and spoke the truth, the holy truth and confessed his admiration for Arthur, the prince among ordinary men. They would have escaped Springhollow and found shelter somewhere else where they could share a mutual love unharmed by devils. They would have laid and perhaps it would have been a sin, but it wouldn’t be this foul end to them. He wouldn’t have ruined Arthur. He wouldn’t have desecrated his body. He would have cared for his Arthur the way pilgrims cared for their saints.

Edward left the bed, feeling his spirit in ashes and his hands stained with blood despite it being non-existent. He sobbed, reaching for the door, unsure of what he could say to Arthur’s parents. He supposed the cuts in his arms could be his get away. But he would have to move Arthur’s body and dress him. And he was not willing to touch him furthermore for the moment.

A clicking sound echoed in the room. Edward froze at the notion of movement behind him though the deep sigh forced him to turn as quickly as he could. Arthur stared at the priest, viciously unimpressed. No, not Arthur, Edward thought. It couldn’t be his boy. But Edward could hope, for a moment only.

“That was very cruel.” The demon shook his head — Arthur’s head — before he smiled widely. “And very stupid. Now there is only me in this body.”

“No,”

“Oh yes.” The demon put his feet on the cold floor. “My vessel deserved better. Such a beauty. You just had to turn him into a corpse, didn’t you?”

Edward fell on his knees. The demon walked up to him, naked and pale. His legs wet with a white liquid substance streaming down to his feet. He stopped in front of Edward, looking down on the priest. He lifted his leg and pressed his foot hard on Edward’s chest, cornering him against the door.

“Men of God never learn how to love things if it is not written in a book. I’ll have to make do with this cold armour.”

“Bring him back. Please. If you can–” Edward pleaded, empty.

“You expect miracles without proper payment. You want the boy to live?”

“Yes,” Edward had his hair grabbed by the demon. “I’ll do anything. Just bring my Arthur

back.”

The demon glared at the priest. He had been entertained before, willing to trade places with Arthur just to make Edward ruin himself. Nonetheless, all smiles were gone now. Edward was worth less now and he knew it.

“You betrayed him.”

“I made a mistake. Let me undo this.” 

“You’ll betray him again.”

“No–”

“You’re a coward, Edward. A meek dishonourable product of your bloodline, too afraid of

life to let others enjoy what’s sacred to them. I was wrong too.” He tilted his head. “You are useless to me. Even as a puppet.”

Edward bowed his head to Arthur’s feet, weeping. He squeezed his ankles pointlessly, desperate for Arthur’s sweet voice to return to him, drive him back to safety.

“Bring him back. And I will give you everything you want. I’ll make an oath for Arthur’s life. My soul for his.”

The demon pushed his foot harder on Edward’s chest, forcing space so they could see each other. 

“Do you truly want the boy back?”

“It’s all I want.”

“You shouldn’t have killed him then.”

The demon gripped his claws on Edward’s scalp and pulled hard, with his foot still pressed on the torso, making it easier to separate the limbs. The head tore from the neck in an ugly, uneven incision, similarly to pulling a tree from the earth grooming it. The roots dripped of blood. The rest of Edward’s body fell to the side, growing a pool of red under Arthur’s feet. The demon held the Priest’s head to his chest, defiling Arthur’s pale body with the wastes falling from Edward’s skull. He cradled the head so much more like a babe he had grown in his womb than a prize. Though conquering and killing Edward White was a victory, the demon could still feel Arthur’s grief under his skin. It was disturbingly distracting.

“Such a dull sacrifice for nothing.”

There was a mirror to his left, on the corner of the room. He turned and admired the view. Arthur’s cadaver was not any less appealing than his alive flushed body. With the priest dead, he would eradicate Springhollow of faith and make the town crumble.