CHAPTER 8

A/N– Hello everyone! Okay, so fingers crossed and let's just hope this chapter doesn't come out too creepy. Although… why not? Ah warned ye the last time ;)


Rome – December 1544

More than a month passed, Feliciano barely making any progress towards recovery. Against the doctor's indications, he was still sleeping more than he should have, eating very little and mostly finding unfortunate solace in the opium-laced wine which swept him away from pain and present. But the opium was a double-edged sword, because it was soothing his body and tormenting his mind in the same time. Horrible nightmares plagued him almost every night, more often than not taking him back to the damp dungeons, to the executioner's table and even to an imaginary stake.

Some other times he would find himself lying in fra Carriedo'sarms and feeling the man's fingers in his hair and on his face and somehow those were the worst.

Eventually he'd been able to sit up without much difficulty and pain, but until now he'd refused to try standing and walking with the crutches. Lovino scolded him for it repeatedly, but he couldn't even look at them. Also, he wasn't used to having servants around and their presence made him feel uncomfortable most of the time, especially since he'd needed to be cared for like a small child.

His brother hadn't offered any explanations for the denunciation (not that Feliciano had imagined - for a single moment - that he would, let alone apologize for it. Lovino had never apologized for anything in his entire life) but his usual harshness had eased up somewhat. At least that was what the young priest had naively thought, before realizing that Lovino's poorly managed aggressiveness had simply shifted focus.

He'd made the discovery one night as he'd woken up brusquely, screaming and kicking at the covers, still ghost-feeling firewood under his soles and convinced his feet were soaked in oil. Lovino was lying next to him in bed and had allowed the younger sibling to curl up in his arms, sobbing, desperate for some comfort, rubbing his back with soothing hands. And then he'd begun to whisper, the tension in his fingers sending shiversthrough Feliciano's body, those words anything but soothing in turn.

How the Pope's favorite cake and the wine he took before bed would be spiced with cantarellaand the old bastard would suffer atrocious pains before death finally took him.

How the Spanish bastard would be gutted with a butcher's knife out in the street and be left to bleed out in some filthy ditch, like the rabid dog he was. Or maybe his body would be chopped into pieces and thrown into the Tiber, never to be found, the bishop seemed undecided about this.

Feliciano had shivered helplessly, tears running down his face, sobs muffled by the dread seeping into his very bones. Was this man really his brother?! It was. His brother and master. His flesh belonged to these hands and they could crush him with the same ease with which they caressed.

Thus, the thought that he needed to get rid of the grimoire without delay nestled itself in the younger Vargas's mind anew and so one night he was finally determined to attempt it.


Feliciano stared at the dancing flames, seemingly pensive, but he was actually waiting for the servants to go to bed before he would try anything, ears keen on the sounds coming from downstairs. He'd even forced himself to eat dinner, in the hopes of gaining a bit more strength for this endeavor.

Finally, quiet fell over the small parish house and the young priest took a deep breath, sitting up, away from the pillows. He tossed the covers aside and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As he did so, a sharp pang shot through the injured knee and he grit his teeth, swallowing the pain and forcing himself to breathe through it. The crutches were out of his reach and he was unsure how to use them anyway. Resting his weight on the good leg and twisting against the mattress Feliciano finally stood, supporting himself on the nightstand. The ache in his hips wasn't as bad as he'd feared, not even when he dared to take a first, shaky step. But more than anything he was dizzy from the opium and the long time spent in bed only and he moved to the window, opening it widely.

Icy winter air burst into the warm room, fine hoar frost dusting his nose and cheeks as the priest inhaled deeply, hoping to clear his head. It helped somewhat, but very soon he was chilled in the light nightshirt and had to shut out the fresh air once more in favor of the pleasantly heated bedroom.

He figured he could crawl along the wall to the small study, supporting himself on his hands only.

Fortunately, moonlight bathed the space, making everything visible enough for him not to grope blindly in search for a candle. There was one, half-melted in its brass holder in one corner of the desk and Feliciano lit it with trembling hands, hopping on one foot and burning the tip of his index finger in the process.

He eyed the hearth warily, knowing he couldn't even try to kneel without dropping to the ground and possibly making enough noise as to alert the servants that there was someone wandering around the house. One palm pressed against the cold stones, he kicked the loose stone away with the injured leg and then stooped as low as his back and joints allowed, reaching to grab the book, his body protesting at the movement.

Eventually, after much effort, the grimoire was picked up and the young priest managed to lower himself into the desk chair sighing deeply. With a tired yawn he rubbed his eyes, proceeding to examine the thick leather covers. Would they burn completely? He planned to throw it in the constantly-burning fire in his bedroom hearth, but he had to make sure there'd be no traces left of it, nothing to arouse the slightest suspicion.

The archbishop's letter needed to be burned separately. Still, Feliciano found himself taking it out of the book and going over it anew, again trying to make sense of its hidden message, even if it was futile, absurd. All the sudden, he had a morbid curiosity in it, mixed with a hint of bitter mockery.

"I am sending you this book I have found most useful over the years-" Just how exactly was it useful?

He took the grimoire and opened it at the chapter where it had opened seemingly by itself the first time – Daemones Nocturnum. An ink drawing of the she-demon Lilith decorated the yellowed page, a beautiful face framed by luscious black curls, the shapely body of an Aphrodite scantily covered by a black, flowy cloth and adorned with a mighty pair of dark-feathered wings.

In the times of old, Lilith had been a pagan goddess.

Maybe that was Gerhardt Beilschmidt's heresy, that he worshipped Lilith as a goddess? Was that supposed to be useful?

He turned a few pages with the descriptions he'd been through before. Lilith's story was one of endless, wicked seduction but above all it was a story of disobedience. A wife disobedient towards her husband. Was that the message? That he should disobey? And if so, who? Lovino? The Church? Lilith had disobeyed God by disobeying her fellow human.

A bit unfair, don't you think?

The book had to be burned, it was giving him strange ideas. Still, he went on turning the pages, until something altogether striking presented itself to his eyes, something he had entirely missed until now. After lengthily describing Lilith and her children the incubi and succubae in all their nefariousness, an entire page at the end of the chapter was dedicated to a prayer of sorts, or maybe a summoning spell.

"Lilith, please receive this offering of my soul.

I give this truthfully and willingly.

Teach me to be unafraid,
To feel power singing in my veins.

Help me to face and balance
The shadows in my nature…

May the light of this candle burn brightly

And guide your daughter/son to me.

Protect me from the shadows
And the darkness that would harm me,
And help me understand
The shadows that will not.
"

Maybe it was a protection spell?

Scowling, Feliciano went back to the beginning of the grimoire and took all chapters in order, for all types of demons described, leafing through and checking at the end of each one. Sure enough, there were no other prayers or summoning spells anywhere else and like this its inclusion made even less sense. The grimoire described the many sorts of demonic beings detailing their maleficent attributes and warned upon their trickery and the chapter on Lilith was no exception, yet the prayer was in stark contrast with all that, suggesting something entirely different.

And then he realized it – the compendium of demonology in itself was merely informative (even if the Inquisition would have clearly considered dangerous ill-intent behind possession of such material), but this was the heresy, carefully, subtly concealed in a book otherwise not against the dogmas in any way.

"Useless…"

Feliciano smiled, then burst into a hysterical laughter he muffled with both hands before it ended in tears.

Maybe Gerhardt Beilschmidt believed in Lilith's protection, maybe Nonno had believed in this sort of stuff too, but he for one didn't need to summon any incubus. His brother may not have been one – because he didn't trick, he didn't seduce – but he'd spilled Feliciano's blood for his own sick pleasure regardless and he'd already damned Feliciano's soul by taking him to bed. What more could Lilith do now?

He went back to the prayer and read it aloud, tears still running down his face at the cruel irony of it all. When he was done, he snapped the grimoire shut and buried his face in his hands.

When the young priest lifted his head again, the room had gone dark brusquely, the candle mysteriously snuffed out. He flinched and threw an alarmed look around the room, at first seeing nothing. Then, the air stirred and light footsteps resounded on the bare wooden floors, coming closer.

"W-Who's there?" Feliciano whispered, shooting from his seat as fast as his damaged body was capable of, nearly knocking off his chair in the process and sticking his back against the wall.

"My bad, forgive me."

The candle flickered back to life and suddenly signor Ludwig Beilschmidt was standing on the other side of the desk, donning the same pristine black velvet clothes and unreadable expression as usual. Actually no, there was a light smile on his face now, as if he were pleased with something.

Feliciano gasped, eyes widening in horror. "S-Signor Ludwig! What are you doing here? H-How did you get in?"

The demon tilted his head to the side, his smile not faltering. "Feliciano, stop pretending that you don't understand. Now you can tell for sure, but then… you always knew, didn't you? Ever since you first laid eyes on me, you could tell whatI was, you are one of those very few who can."

"H-He sent you… I know he sent you," the priest murmured, moving to support himself against the desk. His lower back had begun to hurt. "B-But I don't understand-"

Ludwig sighed, stepping graciously around the desk to stand in front of the Italian, then reached out to grasp the cross pendant hanging around his neck. As he did so, his blue eyes suddenly took a golden, glowing hue and a foul smell of burned flesh invaded Feliciano's nostrils as the cross burned into the other's hand.

"You summoned me!" the demon informed him, baring gleaming sharp teeth. "What is it that you don't understand, exactly?"

Terror gripped Feliciano's throat like a claw, forbidding breath and mollifying his bones. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it was a hallucination, but the horrible vision was still there when he opened them again. He shook his head slowly, fingers of one hand gripping the silver cross the other had released, the metal still hot.

"Pater n-noster qui es in coelis, s-sanctificetur nomen tuum…" he murmured, staring into those inhuman orbs, the other hand finding purchase in the front of Ludwig's jacket, unaware that the demon's arms were what held him from collapsing to the ground. "…adveniat r-regnum tuum, fiat voluntas tua-…"

"I'm not going to hurt you," the blond sighed, just as the priest's eyelids fell shut and he slipped into unconsciousness. "But you're such a mess," he added, more to himself as he lifted the Italian in his arms and carried him back to the warm, fire-lit bedroom.

For some reason, this always happened. People went and summoned incubi, but then when they got their wish they were so horrified that they started to pray and wave crosses around and beg for the divine protection they'd just forfeited. What the heavens were they thinking?! Ludwig sighed again, carefully lowering Feliciano onto the bed and tucking him in. Then he leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss on the forehead of his precious prey-to-be, who had finally been tainted a second time.


The next day the manservant barely managed to wake Feliciano up very late, past noon. Still, he had slept surprisingly well, unbothered by nightmares for the first time in very long. He ate with somewhat more appetite than usual and then again managed to get out of bed to look out the window.

"I'd like to go outside for a bit," he told the man. "Can you please help me dress?"

"Father, it's very cold outside, you might catch a-"

"Only for a little bit," Feliciano asked with a small, sad smile. "I've been in this room for so long…"

When the manservant went away to fetch his clothing, the young priest took the opportunity to throw a glance into the study through the open door. But there were no signs of what had happened the night before, the stone at the base of the hearth stuck in its place and there was nothing on his desk, no sign of the grimoire. He must have dreamed the whole thing, unless the servants (who were Lovino's) had been there while he'd been asleep and had taken it. That was a dismal perspective, but it was an unlikely one.

When he was properly clad and wrapped in a thick winter cloak he was given a cane and the servant helped him down the stairs and out into the small backyard. The ground was frozen and the layer of dead leaves upon it covered in hoar frost, still Feliciano went and sat down on a small wooden bench between the now barren flowerbeds.

He sat there for a while, back hunched and hood pulled down over his eyes, crippled fingers resting clasped in his lap. It was really cold, each breath of crisp air burning his nostrils and blowing soft clouds of steam, but still, it was good to be out again. It was good to be alive.

At some point he heard the iron street gate creaking open, then the leaf-covered gravel of the small path crunching under someone's footsteps. He didn't turn to see, even if it could have only been one person and he was probably in for a scolding now.

The newcomer walked up to the bench with slow, unhurried steps, and waited for the priest to lift his head and acknowledge their presence. It was signor Ludwig.

Feliciano flinched violently, staring up at the blond in shock for a moment, then throwing a frantic look around. "S-Signor Ludwig, you can't be here!" he cried, shaking his head quickly. "My brother's men are looking for you and-"

"No one can see me if I don't want to be seen," the demon said gently, kneeling and taking the Italian's small hand in his leather-gloved one. He pressed a slow kiss to the knuckles. "And from now on I will be here to protect you and do your every bidding, you have nothing to fear anymore. I also took the grimoire last night, so no one will find it now."

The younger Vargas took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Is that what he wanted, what Gerhardt Beilschmidt wanted? For me to summon you?"

"Indeed, since you asked for his help. He ordered me to protect you, but his only request was that you summon me out of your own free will. Surely you understand why."

He understood. The price for this would be his already damned soul.

"But that's not all, is it?" Feliciano whispered, the archbishop's intentions finally taking shape in his mind clearly. "He doesn't only want you to protect me. He also hopes that I will send you to hurt my brother, so that he will finally get his revenge without it being on his hands."

"Well, master did not quite put it so, but perhaps your intuition is not mistaken," the demon replied, standing.

The priest clenched his fists, a pained grimace tightening his lips. "I won't do it! Do what you want with me, but Lovino is still my brother, I would never do anything to hurt him! Your master will be disappointed."

Signor Ludwig smiled, as if he'd expected this answer. "If he has relinquished the decision, then he has also relinquished the result." This was probably a lie. "We will speak more about this, we have plenty of time. I must leave you now, but I will come tonight."

The Italian flinched. "Wha-…. Y-You can't, my brother might-"

"Sua Eccellenza is otherwise occupied, I have seen to that," the demon reassured him with a smirk. "He has found a new, more exciting toy to spend his nights with."

Feliciano could only snort bitterly at that. He'd replaced one incubus with another.

To be continued

Reviews and comments are LOVE ;)

A/N – I take no credit for the summoning prayer, it is heavily inspired from some websites where apparently you can find actual instructions on how to summon an incubus/succubus. I'm serious, just google 'incubus summoning'. However, they have a disclaimer that they take no responsibility for any negative result of this ritual, so #donttrythisathome and actually #donttrythisatall. Feli didn't read the disclaimer and look what happened.