Demonic Desires

Demonic Desires

Mandy M. Roth

 

Dedication

 

To Nick. Your insight, encouragement and words of wisdom are always appreciated.

 

Prologue

 

Donatus Manlian bit back a smile as he held the door for the elderly woman. “Mrs. Rosière, I’ve told you every day for a month and a half that I’m more than willing to pick up the things you need at the store on my way home. I can even hire someone to do it for you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d offer to do that and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last either. The elderly woman was stubborn. Almost more so than he.

Mrs. Rosière smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “You’re a good boy, Donatus. A good boy. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

If you only knew.

He kept a smile plastered on his face as she entered her home. Shifting the bag of groceries he’d taken from her when he’d found her walking home alone—again—he followed her in. The smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air and Donatus wondered how that was since she hadn’t even been home. He also wondered would it would have been like to grow up in home such as this, with a caring woman to look after him and provide a steady supply of love and baked goods. You’d not be the jaded fool you are now if you’d been pampered.

As he strolled past the endless rows of holy artifacts she had, he thanked his lucky stars that the days of bursting into flames the moment a crucifix came into play were long gone.

It had been over three hundred years since he’d had that problem. Of course, Mrs. Rosière was none the wiser. To her, Donatus was in his early thirties and an upstanding citizen. Hell, to everyone but his brethren, he was just that. It was laughable to a certain degree.

In reality, he’d spent all that time atoning for the evil he’d help reap upon the world and caging the demon that would always remain within him. Being a good boy didn’t come naturally to him. He had to work at it. Harder than most.

“Would you be a dear and put the bag on the counter for me?” she asked, going straight to the cupboard and grabbing two glasses.

They had done roughly the same thing for over a month. He would find her walking with bags that were way too heavy for her and he’d help her home, and she would give him a glass of lemonade. The additional pep talks about how much the Lord loved him were always optional. It wasn’t a topic he wanted to dwell on and she seemed to respect that, most of the time. On a few occasions she’d gone out of her way to quote scripture to him, citing various forms in which forgiveness was granted.

Some acts are unforgivable. Just like some men.

Not wanting to agonize over that which could not be changed, he went to work on unloading the bag. Mrs. Rosière shooed him away. “That will be enough of that. Sit down, relax. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Reluctantly, Donatus did as she requested. When she sat down across from him, his chest tightened. In the short time he’d known her, he’d allowed Mrs. Rosière to fill a position he’d never actually had anyone fill before—mother figure. Grandmother, even. “Mrs. Rosière, is everything okay with you? Are you sick?”

She snorted, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Oh, I’ve been dying since the day I was born. We all have. Or most of us anyways.” The glance she cast him made him wonder if she knew more about him than she was letting. “I want to talk to you about your family, Donatus.”

“I have no family. I have friends I consider brothers but that’s it.”

She pushed his glass of lemonade in front of him. “No, you have a family out there. You just haven’t taken the initiative to go find it. More to the point, you haven’t made an attempt to find her.”

“Her?” he asked, sipping his drink. He watched her carefully, doing his best to figure out where the conversation was going.

“Yes, her. Your wife. The woman you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with, Donatus.” She smiled, snow-white wisps of hair dancing around her pale face. The wrinkles nearest her eyes crinkled. “Tell me why you haven’t looked for her.”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t aware I had someone earmarked for me, Mrs. Rosière.” That wasn’t entirely true. In theory, all supernaturals had a special someone. At least that’s what people told him. He didn’t really believe it. The idea of forces greater than one could conceive granting someone like him a wife were highly suspect.

“Well, you do and you’ve wasted too many years sitting back and doing nothing. A man your age should be out living life to its fullest, trying to find that perfect someone, that match.”

Men my age are dust at best.

He held back from speaking his mind. It wasn’t like he could really tell her he’d been alive for centuries. Even if she believed him, she couldn’t have the knowledge. No one could. It would put too many lives at risk. Smiling, he tipped his head. “I’ll start looking for her right away. Want me to bring any candidates past for your approval?”

A slow, knowing smile moved over her face. “That won’t be necessary. When you find her, you won’t need anyone else to tell you it’s right. Your heart, your entire being will know.”

“As romantic as that sounds,” Donatus sighed, “I don’t think happily-ever-after is for everyone.”

Especially not men like me. Men who did unspeakable acts centuries ago and have to live with the harsh reminder daily.

“Donatus.”

“Yes?”

“Have a little faith. It’s not what a man is. It’s what a man does.”