He is so light, now, she thought. He could fly up to heaven still in his own flesh.
But not yet. Please, not yet.
Somewhere, beyond the clouds, God was looking down on His suffering with approval. God had been the author of this tragedy, and Nyx hated Him for it, even more than she hated Him for her own downfall.
Light flared and she coiled in on herself, ready to strike. The soldiers had lit torches, and by their light she could see one of them readying a heavy iron club. The thief on the left started babbling, pleading for them not to use it. He tried to push himself away, tearing the flesh on His feet where they were nailed to the cross. The big soldier ignored Him, took aim and swung.
There was a horrible crunch, and blood spurted from where the studs on the club had ripped into the man’s flesh. The thief’s cries turned into high-pitched screams. A second crunch, more blood, and the screams diminished. It wasn’t because He was unconscious, Nyx knew. He simply had no breath to scream. When a crucified man’s legs were broken he could no longer support himself, and the body’s weight drove the air out of his lungs. Though the thief did not know it, the soldiers were giving him mercy. He would suffocate soon, and His suffering would be over.
The soldier stopped in front of the middle cross, but instead of swinging his club again, the soldier shoved the end of it into the stomach of the man there. The man on the cross grunted in pain.
“No broken legs for you, scum,” he said. “You must have really pissed someone off to be denied mercy.”
It was all Nyx could do not to rear up and sink her fangs into the soldier’s unprotected calf.
“She is inhabited by devils,” the man had been told. And He, believing them, had come.
Nyx had built the story well. She had shifted her shape to that of a young, beautiful woman, and sold herself as a prostitute. She had fucked her way through the men and women of the town, building a reputation for passion, eagerness to please, and a willingness to do whatever she was asked. One of the merchants, a fat, odious man with bad teeth and a great deal of money, had set her up as his concubine. He had given her grander rooms in his house than he had given his wives in exchange for her willingness to let him take her at any time, in any way that he chose.
When He and his disciples were in the area, Nyx became possessed by devils. It had not been easy for her to lure the little air spirits to her, harder still to force them into her body. They had fought her until they realized who she was, and then they had cowered and pleaded. She had pulled them in, and the pain it caused them came out of Nyx’s mouth as screams. And if the merchant thought those screams were hers, so much the better.
He had come at the merchant’s request and broken bread with the man and his family. They had eaten and drunk, and then the merchant had taken Him to see Nyx where she had been tied to her bed, her body writhing and screaming, and sores appearing where the air spirits within her desperately clawed at her flesh in their anguish.
“This is Mary Magdalene,” said the merchant. “And she is beloved to me.”
He recognized her, of course, but He had set her free anyway. It had been the first time she had felt His power, and it had taken her breath, and the spirits, away.
It was His power that intoxicated Nyx—more than his scent and the taste of his flesh. Even now, exhausted and covered in blood and dirt, His downcast eyes crying tears of pain that left clean streaks on his dirt-covered cheeks, His power radiated from Him. Nyx could feel it soaking through the scales on her body, and it drew her closer to Him.
A third crunch, then a fourth. More blood and more screams from the second thief, then gurgling, gasping cries as His legs and lungs collapsed. The soldier swaggered back to the line of men keeping the bystanders away from the crosses. The light faded into a shadow and Nyx wound her serpent’s body around the base of the cross. The air was heavy with His scent and she pushed forward, careful not to let her slithering be noticed by anyone nearby.
Her tongue flickered out again. She knew His taste, had loved his taste, and now her snake form couldn’t resist the temptation to know the flavor of His blood.
From her slatted eyes she watched the trickles of blood that rolled down the cross. It had soaked into the dry wood at first, but there was enough blood that the wood had become saturated. Now, tiny rivulets of His blood poured down from the man’s broken body to the dry desert earth below.
She again tasted the air with her tongue, the sweetness of His flesh sending shudders through her slender body. His smell drove her nearly mad..
She pushed her body up off the ground, climbing the wood in a slow spiral. Anyone glancing at the cross would not have seen her. Even those staring at the cross from the crowd would have had a hard time seeing her. Some of His blood streamed onto her flesh, the touch of it making her as close to rapturous as her form allowed. The reptile part of her wanted to strike, to rear up and sink her teeth into His flesh. But her true self held sway, and she kept her slow climb, knowing that something far better awaited her.
Before she had been Mary Magdalene, she had met Him in the desert.
That time she had appeared in her true form. He had been sitting alone, staring out at the setting desert sun, chewing on a morsel of bread and drinking from a skin of wine. She had appeared out of that setting sun, revealing herself just as it touched the horizon. As the flames of the sun slowly sank below the earth, the flames on her black, widespread wings had taken their place.
She had chosen this moment carefully. Her original thought had been to appear naked, to let Him see her beauty by itself, see if He would be swayed by it. But given His nature, it was not mere flesh that he would respond to.
It was power.
So she wore her armor and her sword and her whip and her crown. She appeared with wings spread wide, and she had smiled at Him as she walked forward, her full lips the same color as her skin and glistening as if kissed by frost. Her hips rolled gently as she walked forward, drawing his eyes to her long, strong legs and the cleft between them. His gaze moved slowly up, His eyes trailing over the slight rise of her mound and the concavity of her belly, past the ripe, luscious swell of her breasts to her face. He took in her wings and her serpent eyes and her crown, and nodded.
“I had expected You earlier,” He said.
“I know,” she said. “I was watching.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That You don’t like them,” she said.
“They are vile.” He spat into the sand. “Do you know what I have seen, since I have been here?”
“Some of it.”
“I watched them beat their children for crying out in hunger,” He said. “I watched them sell each other for slaves. I have watched them rape each other—men, women, and children—their own children if they can’t find someone else’s. They kill without need, they cause pain for the fun of it.” He looked out at the desert, watching the last light of the sun slipping away. “I traveled, when I was younger. First as a boy, then as a young man. My mother was horrified when I left, but I had to see these people that God made, and see what they have become. I went further than any mortal could have, and faster, though I wear human flesh. I saw people all over this world.
“And none of them are worth saving?” asked Nyx, surprised.
“Across the oceans, men play games and the losers’ heads are cut off. They raid each other’s cities for slaves and sacrificial victims. In the North, the barbarians eat one another’s flesh in the winter, and slaughter and rape one another in the summer. In the East they sacrifice children by the dozen to their gods. In Babylon I saw women and men tortured for amusement. In Rome…” He shook his head in disgust. “In Rome, everything has a price, from the smallest child to the Emperor’s favor. And there is no act, no matter how base or vile, that is not practiced there.”
Nyx nodded. “And?”
“My Father has sent me here to judge them.”
“And You have found them wanting.”
“Yes.”
“Then judge them and be gone.”
“I cannot,” he said. “My Father would have them follow me. He would make worshipping me a reason that they should become free of sin, and He would do this so that they may achieve Heaven. And only after have I accomplished that, may I deliver my judgment.”
“And how are You supposed to accomplish that?”
“By teaching them a better way. By showing them their errors and by making a sacrifice for them that they will remember.”
“And what will You sacrifice?”
“Myself,” he said. He took some more bread and a bit of the wine. “And now you. Why have you come here?”
“To tempt You,” said Nyx. “To turn You from Your path.”
He laughed, and the sound was bitter as gall. “I have no path. I have a destiny that cannot be changed, and a short life in this realm that will end in torture and death. I am being used for His,” and here Nyx knew he meant God’s, “Aggrandizement, and then I will be released of the bounds of this mortal flesh.”
“And You are in this desert?”
“To contemplate life, and thus choose the path of life and sacrifice.”
“Which has already been chosen for You.”
“Yes.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because it is part of His plan.”
Nyx thought about it. “Then why stay alone?”
“To avoid temptation, of course.”
Nyx smiled then. “Temptation cannot be avoided,” she said. “I’m standing right here.”
He laughed. “Get behind me, Sat—”
“Nyx,” she said. “My true name is Nyx. The name these mortals gave me is unimportant.”
“And mine is Tribunal,” he said. “Though the mortals and my Father call me something else.”
“Very good, Tribunal.” Her grin grew wider. “And I could get behind You. Or in front, or under, or…”
His laugh was actually filled with humor this time, and for some reason it pleased her to see Him smile. “I think not. Not in this time, or this place.”
Nyx thought about it. “I could stay and talk. And tell You all I know of these people, both good and bad.”
Tribunal nodded. “Yes. I think I would like that.”
Nyx the snake reached Tribunal’s feet and curled around them, her body looping around the cross and the tiny platform on which He stood. She felt Him shiver and knew that He knew she was there.
Her snake jaws unhinged, and her mouth opened wide to catch His blood as it slid down His flesh. Her smooth black body began to shimmer as she swallowed more and more of Him. His life force filled her with magic, and she drank Him until she had her fill.
Looking up, her mouth wide and His blood spilling into her, she saw his other visitor.
One of Lucifer’s birds.
It had the shape of one of the many black-shouldered kites that hunted the region, but it was much smaller. Its wings and back were the color of blood, its breast scarlet. The feet and beak were the blazing orange of fire and its eyes were a brilliant red with black, black pupils. Its entire body pulsed with unfettered rage and desire. Its eye blazed with hatred and its claws dug tight into Tribunal’s shoulder.
Lucifer used the birds as messengers. They had been his particular delight in Hell. He formed them from the flesh of kites and the souls of the damned whose wickedness was so great they were given especially exquisite tortures. They were violent, vicious, and conditioned to obey only Lucifer.
He’s meddling, she thought. I’ve only been gone for a few years and already he thinks he has the right to interfere? Maybe he thinks that he is in charge of Hell now instead of me.
Lucifer had descended first, knocked out of Heaven by Archangel Michael’s blade, and thought that gave him rights to Hell. Nyx had to defeat him to prove otherwise, and then made him her second so he would never forget it.
I shall have to teach Lucifer some more lessons about who is in charge. For a moment she reveled in the thought. Lucifer had always been the most beautiful, and there would be many in the legions of Hell willing to defile and torture him. It would be sublime.
She watched the bird hiss something into Tribunal’s ear and saw Tribunal answer. The bird hissed again, and Tribunal turned the full power of his gaze on it. The bird hopped nervously, then launched itself off His shoulder, ripping open a new bit of flesh as it took off into the darkness.
Nyx longed to know the details of their exchange, but would not waste the last of Tribunal’s moments on Earth asking for them. His remaining time would be short and filled with pain. She would not waste it with something so trivial.
Besides, getting it out of Lucifer will be fun.
She wound her way up the cross, up His flesh, until she was on the beam, directly behind the man’s shoulder. Her forked tongue flickered, frenetically skirting the edges of His ear. She forced it to slow, forced her head to extend out and her tongue to touch the man’s skin softly, just brushing the baby-soft fuzz of His neck. Like a kiss. She could taste the iron in His blood and the salt of His sweat beneath the dirt that covered Him.
He turned His head toward her, ever so slowly, and smiled. He was exhausted and in agony, and still He smiled at her. It sent vibrations through her slippery body and down her spine.
For forty days in the desert, He had resisted her.
Nyx changed her form often. Now a woman, now a girl; now a man, now a boy; now herself, naked and willing. Tribunal refused them all, even as His body, which was still that of a young man, showed its interest. Instead, He talked to her of humanity and its wickedness. Talked of watching a young shepherd, alone with his flock, descended on by a gang of thieves who raped him repeatedly before cutting out his eyes and stealing his sheep. And how the boy’s master, upon seeing what had happened, had him whipped for negligence and then stoned him for allowing other men to defile him.
He talked of the mothers who trained their daughters to be prostitutes from the moment they were old enough to talk full sentences, and of the men who used the girls for their pleasure.
He talked about the torture festivals He had seen, where criminals were slowly torn to bits with metal claws or had their limbs dislocated one joint at a time, and then were forced to crawl over coals to show their remorse. In other places, the criminals were simply suspended in the air and used for target practice by archers who made it their business not to shoot to the heart for a full day. He spoke of the rich, and how their greed and lust for power destroyed the wealth of everyone around them. He talked of how the poor fought and scrabbled amongst themselves, killed each other for food.
Nyx did not bother to correct him. She had seen into the minds of men and women at their worst. And she had taken those who thought they were the most powerful and tough and broken them again and again in the pits of Hell. She had reveled in it.
But even as she had, another part of her wondered why a creature whose life was so short should have to spend all eternity being punished for what it had done.
Still Tribunal raged against them, raged against His own life and the fate that He could not avoid. Nyx let Him talk, let His rage consume Him and, in witnessing it, found herself more and more attracted to Him until she understood why men would give up their lives to follow Him. There was power in this man, and when He spoke it radiated out of Him. Even in His human form, His power attracted her. And the more He resisted her, the more she lusted after Him.
And when Tribunal left the desert, Nyx decided that she needed to be with Him. So she followed Him, learned where He was going, and did what she needed to in order to join Him. She took mortal form and became a prostitute, a concubine, a possessed woman and finally, when the devils were released, His disciple.
The other disciples, men and women both, greeted her politely enough. There were many women traveling with Him, married to His disciples. She was the only unmarried one, but she roomed with the various families so as not to appear unchaste. She listen
ed closely at His sermons, and helped with the poor and destitute.
Nyx found within herself a surprising weak spot for the very young and innocent, be they children or animals. She held no pity for the adults she met, especially the ones she knew were destined for Hell. They had made their decisions and deserved what came from them. The children, though, were too young to exercise that free will, too young to do anything other than what they were told and taught. For them, Nyx found she had pity.
Late at night, when all the others were asleep, she listened to Tribunal swear and curse mankind and God. His body shook with rage at the injustices He had seen, and at the role He was being forced to play. And the more Nyx listened to Him, the more it seemed He was right and the humans had to be wiped from the earth to make way for something better.
And one night, when His rage seemed overwhelming, she used her own power to make the rest of the disciples sleep deeper than they should, and offered her body to His.
This time, He took her. Hard. Worn down by His wrath and the futility of His mission and the knowledge that every day of sermons and healing only brought Him closer to his own inevitable, bitter end, He resisted her no longer. Instead, He pounded his pain and rage into her as she gasped beneath and on top of him. They rutted like lions, clawing and biting at each other in their desire.
To anyone watching, it would have appeared as simple mortal desperation made into passion and poured out through the flesh, but for Nyx it was so, so much more.
Sex had always been magic. In Heaven, the joining of the angels was as much a sharing of power and spirit as it was of angelic pleasure. When Nyx joined with Tribunal, when she accepted His mortal flesh into hers, His power poured into her. It was more power than she had ever felt, more power than she had imagined possible in a single being’s body. She had lain with Angels, with mortals, and with gods no longer remembered, and none of them possessed the power that Tribunal had.
The pace of His breathing quickened, His grip tightened on her waist, and His hips pounded hard against her backside as He gave in totally to His passion. She felt His release inside her, and the power that poured into her body with it, and it brought her to one more gasping climax.