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yaoimila · 7 years

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The Dark Prince Yaoi Web Comic

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Possession 1

The demon possessed man Jonah has fallen under the dark authority of Priest Sabaste, patron of the four gods of Rainor. Sabaste crosses boundaries that no priest should, forcing Jonah to confront the vulnerability of his condition. He’s thrust into the intrigue of the Rainor court, while at the mercy of its diabolical priest. The start of a dark sensual slow-burn series by the author of Maelstrom!

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Excerpt ~

1 The Sheriff and the Half-Sister

“You have to oversee things, brother.” Valeria twisted her apron in both her fists as she beseeched Priest Sabaste in the stable. “He’s possessed of a demon. A holy man must be present or he’ll wreak havoc.” Her body language bespoke anxiety, but Sebaste knew it wasn’t due to the disturbed man in his church aspe. His estranged half-sister fretted over asking him favors.

“I wish not to get involved in pointless pursuits.” He kept his gaze steady on her, forcing her to look at the floor to avoid the fire in his blue eyes. Valeria, wide-faced beneath dark blond curls and with lines on the corners of her kind gray eyes, shrank before him.

“But it’s for Sabina,” she said, uttering Sabaste’s twin sister’s name in a cajoling way. “She must be sick over this. Her little one’s been missing so long. If it could help—”

“I don’t believe she’s concerned.”

This made Valeria gape at him. Sheriff Edmont picked himself off the stable post he’d been leaning on behind her. The man, whose face reminded Sebaste of a weasel, planted his skinny legs wide and crossed his arms. The priest didn’t allow him the benefit of a glance.

“It was only a girl-child. Sabina’s focus is on producing heirs. She considers her a wasted pregnancy.”

“Hey, now watch it,” Edmont said. Sabaste eyed him while noting his vernacular had grown more like the peasantry. “Juelet’s a niece to you and me both, a sweet little girl. Don’t be saying her mother doesn’t love her. The only one who’s cruel enough to hate an innocent lamb like that is you.”

Beside him the priest’s black stallion bristled at the raised voice. His focus returned to the beautiful creature’s gleaming hide. He worked his brush through its mane twice, forcing both Valeria and Edmont to endure an extended silence.

“You brought a charlatan to our keep, Sheriff. Kindly engage him in his scam as your wont and then get him the hell out of my church.”

“He ain’t a charlatan, you pompous ass!”

“That’s what I was going to mention,” Valeria said. Sabaste gave her the benefit of his attention since she was by no means as despicable as the sheriff. “He didn’t come offering to help for a fee. He was kidnapped and brung here.”

“Arrested,” Edmont corrected.

“Well, brought against his will in any case. He’s truly possessed of this demon or spirit, and it sees things that none of us can.”

“You ought to let me tell it,” Edmont said, “if your brother will hear me for half a minute.”

Sabaste led his horse to its stall a few steps away. “I’m listening.” An arrested man was now worthy of his interest. What might the pathetic fellow give to earn his freedom?

“So Jonah’s his name, no surname given.” Edmont paused to clear his throat, a cue for insecurity Sabaste recognized. “He lives alone out in the moors in some wooden shack, goddess only knows how long. Apparently he sells the coal out there, has some arrangement with a sheepherder, a grocer, and a rye farmer, what have you.”

“Get to the point.”

“That’s what I’m doing! I’m saying he’s coming back late from the market one time and a man named Otho, a bootmaker well known in the county, sees that his eyes have gone red, his teeth have gone sharp, horns sprouted out of his head, claws on his fingers, and black marks about his face. Otho runs at him with his pitchfork, but the demon makes him freeze with fear. He tells him he ought to get home because his baby’s coming early and sideways. Sure enough it’s true, and Otho is able to find the midwife in time to save both his wife and child. Otho tells a few others, and they tell a few others, and so a woman goes to him about her young one who was carried off by a bird. And she learns the girl wasn’t taken by a bird like her husband said, but she’d been hauled to a brothel. She retrieves her before her virginity is sold. There’s many more stories as this. He helps some here and there, always saying never to trouble him again. He says what has him possessed is evil and wants to do harm. He tells all to stay away.”

Sabaste held back signs of his burgeoning excitement. It was likely untrue. Both Edmont and the peasants of their county were dullards.

But, oh if such a creature truly did exist.

“I asked him to help with young Juelet. He wouldn’t open his door to me—demanded I get off his property. He knew full well I was the sheriff. I had no choice but to come back with my men.” He looked at Valeria. “It was the right thing to do, taking him. If he really is a demon, we can’t have him loose in the county.”

“You’ll talk to him, won’t you, brother?” Valeria’s nerve had been reinvigorated. “The men are all scared of him.”

Sabaste made a forthright stride past both of them. “I’ll speak to him alone.”

“I need to be there!” Edmont said.

He heard Valeria softly convincing him to let him have his way. In such situations she proved invaluable. The sheriff could yield to her without compromising his pride.

The stable connected to the manor house, which was not quite a castle, but was still the second most impressive building in the county. The thatched roof worked around windowed dormers. A balcony stood on tall piers off the second story, with rolling views of the low meadows and village. The concrete was immaculately shaped and whitewashed, with decorative shutters adorning numerous small windows.

He continued to his church beyond this, the Temple of the Four Gods, which dwarfed the manor enough to keep it enclosed in its shadow three hours of every day. His roofs were made of rounded clay slates, baked a hundred at a time in former church’s kiln. Large stones comprised the main floor, as many as the county’s meager foundry had to provide. Smaller rocks had to be used to create the walls of his spires and great tower.

He entered through doors of colored glass to the nave of his church. At the end of the central aisle he could see sheriff’s men, a half-dozen uncouth barbarians desecrating the sanctity of his apse. He noticed their muddy boot prints on the polished wood of his floor. It was peat and darkened soil from the moors.

As he drew nearer, he saw a youth among them who was damp from his left shoulder to the soles of his boots. He visualized how the arrested man must have tossed him in a desperate bid to flee. The others, twice as thick as the youth, had subdued him without succumbing to the muck.

So he may not truly be possessed of a demon. He was unable to summon its preternatural strength to escape them.

They clustered around the office of his high druid. A few who’d been seated came to their feet as he approached. They gave him questioning looks for an instance, then avoided his radiant eyes. Sabaste said nothing to them, produced a key for the door, and went in.

2 The Prisoner

Seated on a carved wooden bench before the desk of his druid was a man of thirty, his brown shock of hair tussled, his worn hemp trousers and long-tunic caked in mud. He sat huddled and holding himself like the personification of a trapped fawn. The raising and lowering of his shoulders with each breath came faster than they should, as though he were still panicked. Despite filth coating one side of his face, Sabaste saw beauty. He had a narrow cleft chin beneath a wide pleasing jaw and large soulful eyes that matched in depth what his own had in fire.

He fixed these wide eyes on Sabaste, and his breaths grew more rapid still. The priest closed the door but made no move to sit. He allowed the man to absorb him on his feet, where he could present the most intimidating impression. He wore a black linen Cossack which started at his collared neck and draped with a skirt to the floor. His thin cloak, also black as coal pitch, remained hooded over his dark locks of hair. It shadowed his eyes, but in no way inhibited their brilliance.

“You’re Jonah,” Sabaste said, while moving to his druid’s desk, “the man possessed by a demon?”

Jonah’s voice came out in the full tenor of desperation. “I’ve done nothing wrong. If my presence offends the county I’ll take my leave at once and will never return. I beg to plead before his lordship.”

Sabaste looked him over once more. He hadn’t expected a cultured tongue to match the refinement of his face. Now he was forced to wonder whom he was dealing with.

He entwined his fingers and tented his thumbs. “The earl heeds my council on all matters, particularly those involving demonic spirits. Plead before me, as you would him.”

Jonah swallowed, collecting himself before beginning once more. “I beg you to let me leave.”

“What of the earl’s missing daughter?”

Genuine bewilderment formed on his face. “His daughter is missing?”

Sabaste nodded.

“I knew nothing of this. They…didn’t tell me anything.”

Of course not, the buffoons.

“So I’ve been brought here to give aid?”

The priest leaned back his head to look down his nose at the man. “Can you find her?”

“Yes.”

His lack of hesitation made Sabaste’s brow twitch.

“He can—or he can tell you what’s become of her.”

“‘He’ being your demon?”

The man pursed his lips and nodded. “And then I may go free? Once I’ve assisted you, I can return to the moors?”

“I’ll make a determination on the matter after you produce the girl.”

“I won’t help you unless you promise to set me free.”

The bluff made Sabaste grin. “I promise you absolutely nothing. And you will help us. You’d be wise not to test me.”

Jonah bowed his head, both angry and resigned. The priest most enjoyed the anger, since it heralded an enticing conflict. Were he too complaint Sabaste would get bored.

Proceed slowly, cautiously, estimate him fully before deciding which move to make. He was so rarely at a disadvantage with his adversaries. For the first time he knew nothing of his opponent’s powers.

The priest waited half a minute before moving, to be sure the man had yielded to his control. Then he rose and tipped his chin at him.

“Come. You may cleanse yourself of this mud in my quarters. I’ll find you a fresh set of clothes.”

The soulful eyes looked upwards, absorbing the grain of kindness like succor. He climbed to his feet, still huddling his arms around his body, and followed Sabaste out.

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