Tempted Read Online Free Page B

the dishwasher had taken another ten minutes.
    None of it had been enough to chase the last traces of the dream from his mind. As always, the dream had been so incredibly real that Jackson could have sworn he was back in Iraq. He had awakened drenched in sweat, his skin burning as if he were still under the hot desert sun. He could still smell the acrid odor of smoke and burning flesh. He could still hear the screams of dying men.
    And so, for lack of anything else to do, Jackson turned toward the full bottle of vodka he’d stashed in the freezer. He’d done well for the last two nights without it. Tonight, the dreams were back and he knew it was only a matter of time before the voices started in. Planning to chase them away before they could even start, Jackson opened the bottle and stepped outside for some fresh air.
    He had just taken his first swallow, when he felt it. The crushing feeling of guilt and anger began to press down on him until he felt as if he would collapse from the strain. He pressed his hand against his chest and closed his eyes.
    Your fault. Your fault.
    Jackson shook his head and took another sip, determined not to succumb to the maelstrom brewing inside him.
    Those people died because of you. You are responsible. Your fault.
    Jackson’s breath quickened and his pulse began to race, as it always did when these feelings overtook him. His heart squeezed painfully and he sank to his knees, fighting for air. The disturbing thoughts had invaded and now rang out in his ears, so loud he could no longer drown it out.
    You ruin everything your hands touch. You could not even be a decent husband to Rochelle. You could not even be a good father to little Jack.
    “ No,” he moaned, clutching his bottle as if it were a lifeline. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered to the night as the bottle slipped from his fingers. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
    Your fault. Your fault.
    Jackson fell back against the fire escape railing and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the misery that these attacks always left him with. It was his fault. Everything.
    Men had died because of his decisions. They had suffered because of his inaction. His wife had left him because he couldn’t seem to pull himself together. He was alone, left to suffer the consequences of his actions in solitude.
     
     
     
     
    Sarah slowed as she neared the apartment building where Jackson Bennett lived. As she dropped to the roof and lowered her wings, she was immediately overtaken by the presence of evil. She could feel it in the atmosphere, like an electric current. She could smell it in the air like a combination of sewage and spoiled, rotting meat.
    She scanned the rooftop slowly and could not see anyone or anything that was out of place, but she knew that a demon was there. “Show yourself, demon,” she commanded as she moved across the dark roof. The stench grew stronger and she knew that she was getting closer.
    A metallic clanking sound broke through the silence of the night, and a gray shape formed against the darkened night sky. As it neared, Sarah realized that the approaching demon was riding a winged beast. The scaled animal’s flapping wings created the grating metallic sound, and it’s long, lizard-like tail added a ‘whooshing’ effect. The beast landed on the roof and its rider dismounted with a leap. Recognition flared in Sarah’s eyes as Eligos, the Great Duke of Hell, approached her.
    Although she’d never seen the dark lord of hell in person, he was well known. It was said that he was once a Seraphim, among the highest order of angels. The Evil One had tempted him with great power and position in hell, and he’d switched sides.
    The legend itself now stood in front of her, pushing back the face-guard of his metal helmet. Beneath a suit of black metal armor, his body matched his grotesque face; stretches of gaping, leathery skin pulling apart in places to reveal what appeared to be a flaming skeleton. Maggots