1Sophie panted. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her legs felt like jelly. She had been running for what seemed like an hour, and he still hadn't given up chase. That homicidal albino zealot had been pursuing her for days, and it seemed that her luck was running out. She could hear the muffled footfalls of leather sandals approaching, ever so quiet and predatory. Swallowing hard, she stepped out from behind the tree that hid her, gun cocked, and began to run. Instantly, the albino's head snapped in her direction and he took off after her, red eyes wild with hatred. Sophie began to panic as she sensed him closing in on her, the pounding of his feet on the soft forest floor drawing nearer and nearer as the seconds flew by. To her dismay, Sophie
felt herself falling- she had tripped over a root. Before she had time to curse her misfortune, her head connected with a sharp rock, and everything went black.
A shadow appeared amongst the trees and loomed over her still and silent form. As he bent down over her, a ray of moonlight slipped through the gnarled branches of the trees and illuminated his face. His skin was nearly as ghostly pale as the moon itself, though smooth and unmarked rather than pitted with craters. The same could not be said for his fit and agile form, although even scarred from years of self-mutilation is was still strangely beautiful to behold, like a Greek statue that had been vandalized. Silas' white eyelashes fluttered over his eyes as they narrowed at the now completely vulnerable Sophie. He had her exactly where he wanted her—well, not exactly. First he would have to bring her to a more controlled environment, but then he was sure she'd spill every secret she was keeping for that tweedy terrorist, Robert Langdon.
When Sophie awoke, she was shackled wrist and ankle to a cold, slimy stone wall. Her mouth had been gagged with duct tape, and her shoes and jacket had been removed. A throbbing on her temple and the drip-drip of blood on the floor reminded her of her fall, and she winced at the pain. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow move. Shivering, her eyes wild, she glanced frantically around the dimly lit cell, a muffled scream escaping her duct-taped lips. Out of the shadows and into the sulfur glow of the single sodium lightbulb stepped Silas, a razor smile playing across his pale lips. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Sophie noticed the albino pull something out of his belt as he advanced menacingly forward-a flash of silver? Was it a gun? A needle? A look of abject terror crossed her face as the realization hit her. It was a celice-and he was going to use it on her!
Sophie struggled violently as the pale man drew nearer, his sanguine eyes livid from underneath his monk's cowl. Beads of sweat began to form on her face, running down from her hairline and stinging the gash in her head. Silas' breath hissed through his teeth and brushed across her chest as he bent down close and tore the thin nylon of her skirt up to her hip. Sophie gasped. The worst was not over, however. Silas' thin pale hands worked their way slowly up her long leg, and Sophie felt that his hands lingered more than a monk's ought to. They also seemed to know how to pleasure a woman more than a monk's ought to. Lightly skimming up her leg, Sophie reluctantly allowed herself to enjoy his surprising gentle touch, eyes involuntarily fluttering shut. But all remnants of pleasure ended when she felt the cool metal of the spiked garter clamp around her leg. With alarming menace, Silas tightened it one loop. The spikes bit into Sophie's skin, and she moaned as the blood trickled down her thigh. She saw a flicker of a smile play across Silas's face, as if her grimace of pain gave him some sort of private satisfaction. As his smile grew wider, the celice tightened around her thigh, the spikes now penetrating deep into the muscle tissue. Tears were already coursing down her face as he tore off the gag, but she refused to scream. She couldn't give him the satisfaction. Sophie bit her lip as the torture continued, causing a rivulet of blood to trickle down her chin and onto her delicate collarbone. As Silas cinched the device to the final hole, Sophie could feel her consciousness begin to slip. The searing pain in her leg was gradually being replaced by an unsettling numbness as the blood ebbed out of her body and into a dark pool on the floor. Fighting the black that was slowly creeping into her vision, Sophie shot a lethal glare at the albino. " You're nothing but a bishop's puppet, Silas." She growled. " A simple-minded, blind follower with delusions of God!" She watched the albino's icy eyes widen with rage at her audacity. If she was to die by his hands, the least she could do was to put up a fight. Gathering up her last modicum of strength, Sophie lunged forward and spat. A stringy gob of blood-laced saliva hit Silas square on the cheek.. Laughing deliriously, Sophie delivered the final blow. "Your god doesn't forgive murderers, Silas. He burns them." Then she collapsed against the wall as everything went black, the last being the piercing pale eyes of Silas.
When she awoke again she was surprised to see that her leg had been treated and bandaged, though t still caused her too much pain to move. It didn't matter though, because she was still shackled to the wall, and after her bold verbal tactics with Silas, she wasn't likely to be escaping anytime soon. The monk sat in a wooden chair in the corner across from Sophie, hands folded neatly as he leaned forward in his chair, muscular legs spread wide. Sophie couldn't help but think that for someone in only a rough habit, this was not a proper sitting position. Then again, none of Silas' actions fell anywhere's near the definition of "proper."
"Good, you're awake," Silas hissed from the very back of his throat, like a panther ready to pounce. "Surprisingly yes, after all of the blood I lost," she spat angrily. Torture had not taken away any of the French woman's spirit. She was still determined not to give in. Still, she couldn't help but be afraid when Silas left his chair and moved closer to her. He let one of his white hands drift close to her face. He stroked the damp skin of her cheek almost lovingly, eyes burning with temptation very unbecoming for a holy man, before pushing a sweaty, lank piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes met his and a jolt went down her spine. The thought that Silas would use any tactic possible to get information from her, even those breaking every rule of his order, made her tremble in multiple places. "So many secrets hidden in those eyes," Silas hissed. 'How many are Langdon's? And how many are you willing to die for?" He roughly cupped the woman's chin, snapping her face toward him. He needed her full attention. Sophie grimaced at the roughness of his touch, her brown eyes meeting his startling reds. Despite their fiery colour, they were as cold as death. Sophie swallowed hard. There was no way she was getting out of this one alive, she thought to herself. She could feel the icy stare of the albino boring through her, as if he was trying to see her very soul. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her thigh where the celice had been. Catching her scream between her teeth, Sophie looked up to see Silas's fingers tipped with blood, a razor-keen smile on his face. Slowly, he brought the fingers up to his mouth, licking them each clean with a torturous languor. "This is my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant, that will be shed for you and for all, so that their sins will be forgiven. Tell me, are you brave enough to be a martyr, Sophie?"
Sophie shuddered. The sight of Silas taking joy in the taste of her blood was almost too much to handle. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine that she was anywhere else. When she felt a pair of lips on hers, she almost thought she had succeeded. She relaxed slightly. But then the thin lips parted and teeth snapped out to nip at her lip. They tugged and tore at her, and blood dripped down her delicate chin. Sophie cried out. Her eyelids flew open and the sudden movement knocked Silas backwards onto the floor. He wiped the blood from his mouth and smiled, showcasing pink-stained teeth. "You almost liked that, Sophie…didn't you?"
Sophie was speechless. She didn't know what to think, what to expect, how to react. The last 30 seconds had thrown all of her preconceived notions about Silas out the window. That kiss, that menacing smile...the facade of his monkhood was crumbling, revealing the man, the human that was Silas. Swallowing hard and summoning up her courage, Sophie spoke, voice trembling with uncertainty. "Why are you really doing this to me, Silas? If you wanted Langdon, you could have found him just as easily as you found me. But I don't think you wanted him, Just as I don't think you're going to kill me. You have an ulterior motive, Silas. But what?"
Silas hesitated in his response. His lithe frame grew tense and alert. Sophie waited for his response. He answered her finally by lunging towards her. Instead of killing her, however, he kissed her with such violent passion that if it hadn't been for the chains attaching her to the wall, she would have been knocked over. His lips felt hot and feverish on her skin. Soon they left hers and began trailing heated kisses down the sweaty skin of her long white neck. His tongue trailed wet tracks down her neck like a lizard in heat. "Silas…stop….please…." she moaned, partly because the monk repulsed her with his viciousness, partly because she felt guilty that it all felt so…good. When was the last time a man had treated her this way, with this kind of riveted sexual attention? Langdon only saw her as a pretty sidekick, an inferior replacement for the Italian yoga master Vittoria. But Sophie saw only herself reflected in Silas' fiery red eyes. Then his mouth reached the open collar of her once crisp white shirt and began nibbling her collarbone, and she forgot everything else.
With every button he unclasped, Sophie could feel the heat intensifying at her center. In fact, she nearly exploded when she felt him reach around and unclasp her bra. Tossing off the confection of white and green lace, he cupped her breast to his mouth, tasting it and teasing it with his long, slick tongue. As he moved lower, his tongue burning a hot, wet trail down Sophie's stomach, Silas could feel an irresistable swelling in his loins. The lower he went, the harder he got, and the harder Sophie was panting. He reached a slender hand down her panties, a surge of electricity coursing through him as his fingers ventured inside her. Sophie's legs began to tremble as he reached deeper, her hands clenching still in their chains. Suddenly, Silas stopped dead - he certainly hadn't expected her to be a virgin! The monk's confidence bloomed in an instant. It appeared that the intrepid Frenchwoman, someone he had deemed far beyond him in sexual exploration, was in fact as much of a mere novice as he was. Well, that would change tonight….for both of them. He tore her skirt off with one fell swoop, the fine linen ripping in his rough hands. Clad only now in her silk panties, Sophie was still chained up and as vulnerable as ever but no longer fighting the monk's advances. She had been waiting for this moment since adolescence and no longer cared that the man who had previously tried to kill her was now ravishing her body with kisses while still reaching deeper inside her with his slender fingers. Sophie panted and bucked against his hand when suddenly he pulled it out and stepped back. "No…don't…" she moaned, but stopped when she saw his intention. Silas pulled his rough habit over his head, revealing that underneath was….nothing else but muscular white flesh.
Sophie's lips parted in awe at the beautiful sight that now stood before her. His body was slender, yet toned, and an almost ethereal marble-white. Though marred by many scars or varying ages, it still seemed to glow with an alien radiance that betrayed his inescapable humanity. His humanity, Sophie thought. The humanity that had been all but lost beneath the suffocating binds of his monkhood.
Silas lowered himself onto her, much more gently this time. In their closeness, Sophie could feel his heart pounding, feel his ragged breath upon her cheek. Their lips met with a furious passion as the monk guided her panties down around her feet, her legs trembling in anticipation.
Silas was intoxicated. This was a world unto which he was forbidden, a world of sin and carnal pleasure that he had gladly cast aside, ignorant of its secrets. His head was spinning with new sensations, warm and soft, wet and sweet. It was almost to much to bear, but he had to know, had to feel what he had so brazenly disavowed for so long. His loins ached with sweet agony, begging for the release he never had.
Sophie caught her breath as he entered her, slowly caressing her insides with torturous langour. The first thrust was deep and filled her completely. His muscular thighs slapped against her own first slowly and steadily, then increasingly fast and ragged. Sophie buried her face in the hot white flesh of his neck, holding on for dear life as Silas rocked back and forth against her, slapping her back against the brick wall. The pain ran down her back like lightning and scraped her raw, but Sophie didn't care anymore. Her entire body was throbbing with both pain and pleasure, and with every moan she let out Silas's eyes narrowed in increased ecstasy. Finally it became too much to handle and he came with a start. Sophie did only seconds later, and then collapsed in her chains against the wall like a limp rag doll.
Silas stood back up and stepped away from her. Sophie couldn't read his expression. As he pulled on his habit, she thought she caught the shining of tears beneath his dark hood, but he had moved too quickly for her to be sure. Suddenly conscious of her own nudity, Sophie pulled her legs toward her, uncomfortably slick from her orgasm.
Silas padded over and knelt before her, tangling both hands in her thick, dark hair. Pulling her toward him, he lowered his lips to her ear, close enough to hear even the barest of whispers.
Something was wrong. Sophie could feel his hands becoming uncomfortably tight on her head where they had once cradled it. Pulse rising, she closed her eyes and waited in pregnant silence.
Finally, in the barest of whispers, he spoke. " Did you know, my dear rose, that my ancestor was Pontius Pilate?"
Sophie tried to scream, but it was too late. A sharp crack, a searing pain, and all was soft and white.
Disentangling himself from the dead girl, Silas reached into his habit and produced a phone. Dialing with shaking hands, he wet his lips and waited. Finally, a click..
"It is done, father. You may release Langdon now, he is no longer of consequence. The last rose has been exterminated."
Closing the phone with a satisfying click, Silas turned once more to look upon the girl. "I'm sorry, Sophie. It had to be done. Your family line has finally been laid to rest, committed to the ages. The world will never know of your existence. But me, I will remember. And by God, it will be the death of me."