I flung my head back and groaned. Releasing Meredith from my grasp I watched her scuttle away looking more terrified and affraid of me then ever before.
It was a strange process his feeding. The more power I wield the more hunger I feel. And with Meredith the more fear she fed me yet more will she feel. It is a vicious cycle best belonged in the pits of hell.
As always my thoughts turned to mother. She always said no good turn goes unpunished. She had been right. She was always right. It was strange how someone so right could be so wrong.
But I was no longer one permitted to stand in judgement. Not when I was as guilty. Not when I wield as much pain. Not when I derived as much pleasure from it.
I got of the soft divan I had been lounging in. It was my favourite feeding chair. For some reason it always heightened Meredith's fear of me. Hence my pleasure in it.
I paused a moments taking a deep breath of satisfaction recalling Meredith's trembling limbs held firm within my grip as I simply breathed in her fears. She was absolutely delightful. Only not enough.
Not at all enough to sustain the powers I now wield. Powers that rival none other than my own mother. She required a hellish load of fearfull tainted souls to feed on. I shuddered at the thought of how much pleasure was in her command.
As always I moved desperately to the lone feather that stood on my dresser. Grasping its crumpled and worn softness I thought back to the only pleasure that had eclipsed it all. The memory was crystal clear and the pleasures derived from it accute ... but not enough. Not enough by far.
I dropped it and grasped the edges of my dresser staring at the bold beauty reflected back at me. I shimmered... I all but glowed. The hunger still coated me. I was beyond dangerous in this state.
I thought back to the only visit mother paid me ever since I moved into the woods and built my own home, a fortress noless. One strong enough and potent enough to withstand an attack from god himself.
It was this damned fortress that bled me dry. It was this pile of bricks and mortar that reduced me to the barely controlled starving vulture that I am.
I could feast on all of hell if given the chance. My mouth watered at that very thought. That was why mother had paid me that visit. She knew I would be drained. She knew my hunger would make me verocious. Vicious with the power of the Devil to wield.
It was the reason why she visited. Not to offer me a part of hell. No. That would have been too good of her. No she offered me a possibility to entertain an alternative.
To seek my pleasure elsewhere. To take it from the act of sex.
I had stared at her then clenching my fists in an effort not to strike back. She would take from me my sole memory of such pleasure and sully it by her suggestions. I could not... would not do that to my memory with Michael.
That had been a focul point of my existence and I would not have it reduced to meaningless sex by taking on other lovers.
I would not in short become mother.
Although the temptation it sometimes produced was vast. So vast that it was with the greatest efforts that I stayed off the edge. One wrong move... and there would be no stopping me.
You have guest!
I closed my eyes to chanel my awareness beyond the gates.
William!
Damn this was all I needed. Blasted temptation.
"Let him in," I told Yiu, my fortress also molded from my memories of cloak. Only Yiu was not built from a living being. No Yiu was built from the dead.
A dead to be specific. A soul not tainted enough to be of use to mother or me and not good enough to be admitted to the heavens. Yiu had come to me with his unique plight. It was an odd situation for he was not young but old. Died at the ripe age of a hundred and two. Died only because his body could no longer survive. So Death... William brought him to me. And I put him to good use. Yiu was happy being a fortress. And that was all that really mattered.
I tossed on some clothing. While I liked to feed naked I refuse to present that form to my dear friend. That would only provoke what I would rather not start.
