The Devil




* Preacher's Lackey

Summary: Evalyn is assaulted by a religious zealot!

Date: December 1883

The Devil

Doctor's Office

A package was delivered to her and it sits on the desk wrapped in cloth and paper. The top is open as she looks inside with a rather mortified look. There is the head of the young lady who worked at the brothel. What was she to do with this? She glances back over her shoulder to the door where the clerk had departed and then back to the head. Her eyes close and her head bows slightly as she softly wraps it back up. Silently her lips move in a soft prayer.

"Oh heavenly father…." A deep, slightly raspy voice emenates from the doorway. "Cleanse us of our sins." The click of the door shutting is the only sound that breaks the concentration of the man. That, and his thrusting a knife into the doorframe. It justs painfully out from the splintered wood, preventing the door from opening no matter how hard a person pushed. "I see you're admirin' mah handywork."

Evalyn doesn't pay much attention to the sound of the door opening until the sound of the voice is heard. Slowly Evalyn turns about to look to the man, trailing her gaze over him studiously. Then she blinks! "Y..Y..Your handiwork? You did this?" She motions to backage still ever so neatly wrapped. "This is.. horrifying!" She exclaims. Her gaze turns back to him. "It's murder!"

"It's cleansing." The man answers with a sick sneer. At first glance, one would notice that he's unusually tall, with a commanding face and long, straggled grey hair. The hat of a preacher sits atop the monsterous head, serving only to add ominousness to his presence. A preacher's outfit adorns the rest of his long body. The most disturbing thing about the costume, though, is the belt holding two pistols and three knives around his waist. None of which look either cheap or little-used. "She was a creature of sin, Mizz Kingsley. Much like you friend. Franklin." He approaches her further, towering over the tiny form easily. "Now sit yerself down. Letz make this easy."

Evalyn turns her gaze up to him as he towers over her. As he talks, it seems the shadow of fear crosses over her eyes. Her lips part a bit, almost slack-jawed at the confessions of this silver-haired man. Sidestepping to the side, she tries to move around him as if heading to the door. But.. there is that dagger jamming the exit. Her breathing quickens as she spins about to look back at him. "The Bible states, For we have /ALL/ sinned and come short of the glory of God! He ho calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved!" She quotes back to him. "You.. you are not the Lord! This.." She motions to the head, " a sin!"

"Says the prattling speeches of a woman protect one of the worst. Gods warriors understand the difference between the work of the lord and sin itself. Now I daresay, Ma'am. Sit down, or I'll make ya." A single large, gloved hand pushes Evalyn squarely in the chest, toward the fireplace and the chairs there. The other hand produces one of the terrifying knives from the man's belt. "Not tell me. Were's Franklin hidin'? He's escaped judgement for far too long."

Evalyn is shoved backwards by the man, stepping back quickly to keep herself from toppling over. The edge of the chair meets the back of her legs and she flops back gracelessly into it! The chair even seems to rock back a bit, precariously tipping off it's front legs before settling down properly on the floor. The glint of the knife catches her attention and she looks to it then to him. "I.. I.. I do not know where he is hiding! Mister Franklinis his own man! I have not seen him in ages!"

"Ya know, I lyin's a sin, Miss Kingsley. I've got it on good authority that he and yerself are decently friendly with one anothah." The preacher comes to stand before the chair after mere seconds, his form completely covering all points of exit. "Now once 'gain. You tell me, or I'll cut it outta ya. And if you try to make it hard, I can't guarentee ah won't kill ya by mistake."

Evalyn look up to him with widened eyes. "I am friendly with everyone! It is my job!" She protests, her voice cracking into a squeak. "I swear! I swear to you, I do not know where he is hiding! I stay here, not chase gangs into the wilderness! It is simply not proper of a young lady to do so!" She begins to plead with him, "Please! I promise, I know nothing!"

His gloved hand reaches forward, wrapping around her slender neck and squeezing none-too-lightly. "You know more then yer lettin' on, Miss Kingsley…" His grip tightens. The knife's blade comes down to her arm, the tip biting easily through the flesh of her bicep and threatening to go deeper. The preacher leans slightly on her, almost sitting on her lap to hold her down. "Now ye should know, I'll do whatever it takes to find out…."

Evalyn struggles to get away from the hand, but it grips at her tightly. A single tear comes to her eye as the blade is felt against the flesh of her arm. A small trickle of crimson flows down the ivory skin. She can't really speak with his hand on her neck, only a whispered rasp is heard. "I.. I don't know.." She looks to him, still studying his features and commiting them to memory. "Your efforts.. are.. futile… I.. don't know.."

Without a moment's hesitation, the knife drives itself about an inch and a half deeper into the woman's arm. The hand around her throat cletches to combat any sort of scream. He does settle into her lap, now, the full weight of the tall body bearing down on her hips, preventing her from moving anywhere. "What can you tell me bout him then, Miss Evalyn?" At the decreased distance, the rotten breath and brown teeth become much, much more….potent….As well as those eerily blue eyes that seem to stare into her. The knife emerges from her arm only to plunge in again, in a different spot on her bicep. "Now I'll keep causing you pain until you give me sumptin."

Evalyn's face twists up in horrid pain as the knife plunges twice into her arm. The scream she wishes to let loose is suffocated into a rasp as the fingers bruisingly clasp around her throat! "He's .. secretive…" She manages to get out. "Leader.. gang…" She of course hasn't shared anything the entire town doesn't already know. "Like.. wind.. comes and goes.." Another tear falls down her cheek, leaving a silvry trail.

"An which way does he blow from?" Those rotting teeth produce a sinister smile as he wiggles the knife around a bit in her arm. "Come on now, he isn't worth your life….Or…your virtue…" The look the preacher offers down at her suggests something more then pure physical pain, and when those eyes pass from her breasts down, down, down…Well, one would get the idea. That knife emerges from her arm at long last, leaving the long red stains of blood dripping down onto the furnature. "You're a good Christian woman….You know that his deeds deserve…." A finger begins tracing the curves of Eva's face. "Punishment."

Evalyn looks even more horrified by this notion than the notion of physical pain. Some things can heal. Now she truly begins to struggle from underneath him. Her arms flailing about wildly. With the fingers of her free hand, she claws at the face of the man. "YOU ARE THE DEVIL!" She screams out when she has the remotest chance to!

"No, darlin. I'm the devil's dispatcher." The nails rake across the old preacher's face, tearing bits of flesh and dripping decent amounts of blood. He takes the hit gracefully, smiling slightly when she strikes him. "As if I needed a reason to kill ya. You're striking a servant of god!" The blood steaking down the man's face drips precariously on Evalyn's….Though her rebellion seems to be quilled by a steady hand. The knife raises again. When it falls, it does on the woman's left shoulder, raking a slow, bloody gash all the way to her right hip. A smile cracks the face of the preacher as he carves the shallow, long gash. It ensured the woman wouldn't bleed out. But she'd certainly never forget him. "You tell Franklin that his name is up. And he is about to be judged." Finally, the blade is lifted from her flesh. Well. Sort of. It comes from that bloody, thin hip to rest against the woman's shoulder. It doesn't take much pressure to pierce all the way through that shoulder, deep into the fabric of the chair behind her. "And I'll be seeing you again."

Evalyn leaves that angry clawed mark across his face. Of course she is no fighter and no warrior. It is rather minor damage compared to what she is taking. The sounds of the fabric of her dress can be heard as the blade tears through the cotton and flesh. Crimson immediately stains the fabric deeply. With the punishment she receives, a loud cry comes from her, nearing a scream. Finally the blow is given that practically pins her to the chair she is in. The dagger protrudes from her shoulder, a ring of blood pooling slightly around the puncture. No more words come from her, only sobs. She was utterly defeated and the fight gone out of her.

It's then that the preacher releases her, climbing lightly from, he heads to the door, tipping his hat slightly as he does. "Let Franklin know he has my regards…"

Evalyn slowly turns her gaze to him. She is silent as she watches him leave as if nothing had happened. Then she just turns her gaze down to her lap as the sobs continue.


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