WICK£D GOD
Wicked God – Chapter 15&16
→Fu+king•With•Death←
Gods of Death Duet-Book One
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WARNING: This book is contracted, strictly under protection of NAY PUBLISHERS. Copying and stealing any part of the manuscript will attract pursuit of legal action
Copyright © 2026
©Naomi Cindy B.
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[Enigma House]
The night had turned rainy again. The rain started five minutes ago, and while others were in their rooms, cozying up to their beds or warming up with mild exercises, Bishop and Castle stayed outside.
Blade and Kent had followed after El Crow, and Lovato already returned into her room.
The silence in the balcony grew heavier, settling in the space between them till they could feel it on their calves.
“I don’t regret shouting at you,” Bishop finally ate the silence up.
“I didn’t expect you to regret it,” Castle faced him. “You’re Bishop anyways. You mightn’t talk frequently, but you’re easy to read. It’s very obvious how you feel about Vato.”
“Vato likes you!” Bishop faced him suddenly, brows pressed. “She doesn’t act like a baby around anyone but you! It’s obvious she—”
“I’m at least ten years older than Vato. What are you talking about?” Castle’s face folded into deep disgust. “I’m not a damn pedophile.”
“The least you could be is gentle with her!” Bishop snarled. “If it was me who shouted at her, she’d either shout back or hit me, but it was you, and you saw how she cried…”
“Bishop,” Castle sighed. “I’m not in the mood for this stuff right now, ok? When El is found, this talk can continue.” Castle cut in.
He was already walking down the stairs. “I’ll join Blade and Kent in the search for El. We need to bring him back without making Boss Arturo worry.” He added before leaving.
Bishop continued standing there as if unsure of what to do, but minutes later, he returned into the house.
He went to Lovato’s Suite, assured that she’s inside. He raised his hand to the doorbell to ring, but he changed his mind and dropped it.
He rested his head on the door.
“I’ll personally go to the house kitchen and make you hot milk. I know you like it to burn your tongue, and I know you like to take it with spicy chicken wings.” He whispered.
He didn’t talk more, and it looked like she wasn’t going to answer, but shortly, she opened her door with dull eyes and down mood.
“I’ll go to the kitchen with you,” she sniffled and led the way.
Bishop helped her close her door before rushing to catch up with her.
“How spicy do you want the chicken wings to be?” He smiled.
“Any level. I don’t care,” she muttered, sniffling again as they curved the hall corner.
“So I read about your Princess Charlotte,” Bishop said.
She looked at him.
“You did?”
He nodded.
“But I was right.” He tipped his head. “After the real Princess died, the King and Queen lost their abilities to reproduce because of grief, so they adopted Princess Charlotte in place of the real Princess. See? Princess Charlotte might be kind and benevolent, but she’s still not the real deal.” He shrugged.
“But she’s still addressed as Princess Charlotte,” Lovato rolled eyes. “You’re just jealous of her.” She quickened her steps towards the kitchen.
“She’s still not the real Princess!” Bishop went after her.
“I don’t want to hear it!” Lovato blocked her ears with her palms, running into the kitchen.
Bishop’s spark returned in folds as he rushed into the kitchen with her. Seeing her smiley and lively again made his mind settle.
He found her standing by the wide kitchen island with her lips puckered.
“Didn’t you promise hot milk and peppered chicken wings?”
“I’m not running away,” Bishop grinned, opening the freezer for chicken.
Lovato suddenly jumped on his back, tangling herself with him.
“I’ll stay on your back till you’re done,” she informed.
Happily, Bishop nodded.
“Whatever,” he smiled as he defrosted the chicken with her mounted heavily on his back.
—
[Enigma House]
Quincy and Renee could be seen running towards the house from the driveway, holding hands.
They had gone for workouts without umbrella, and it started raining when they were there, so they had to return on the rain while running.
They entered the balcony together, looked at each other and bursted into laughter.
“I told you to not forget the umbrella when we were leaving,” Quincy accused.
“Oh. Now it’s my fault?” Renee blinked. “You could have taken the umbrella too cos you know I don’t have a mind of my own!”
“Take responsibility, Renee.” Quincy rolled eyes. “It won’t kill you.”
Renee made faces, but they never let go of each other’s hands.
“So…ice cream?” Renee blinked.
“It’s raining,” Quincy scolded.
“I eat ice cream whenever I want,” Renee scoffed.
“So you can get sick and have me nurse you throughout the night?” Quincy scoffed too.
“Fineee!” She tried to take her hand from him, but he held it still.
She gave up and released a sigh, then they both faced the pouring rain.
“You think Long Legs would be fine? Considering the fact that Roselle went with her. I don’t trust that bitch.” Quincy muttered.
“Here you are, worrying about Skylar again,” Renee hissed.
“Long Legs is my friend, ok?” Quincy shrugged. “It won’t kill me to worry about her. Even if she doesn’t care about me for now, I believe the time is coming. We both need Skylar.”
Renee looked away.
She might not entirely agree with her brother, but the last part was nothing but plain truth.
Who’d be their shield here?
Roselle? Absolutely no.
Rosita? Another fail.
Roy? That’s just unimaginable.
Even other Middle Tiers like them don’t want to have anything to do with Quincy and Renee.
They’re like outcasts of the team. Satan and Midnight gives no fûck about them either.
“She’s Skylar,” Renee nodded. “Of course she’ll always be fine.”
Quincy smiled and rubbed her knuckles in his hand, but then loud pounds of claps rented the balcony suddenly, causing them to turn.
Roy leaned on the entrance door with his left shoulder, his deviant eyes trained on then.
Immediately the siblings saw him, they both got a rush of memories of what happened at M Sector. How Renee was on the floor and how Quincy’s face was between her legs.
Renee clenched her thighs together.
Quincy clenched his mouth, biting his tongue.
“You both look closer than before, don’t you think?” Roy came closer, flipping his lighter open and close carelessly.
“On the brighter side, what we made you do was for the greater good.” He raised his lighter to Renee’s face, aiming to burn her eyebrows, but Quincy pushed Renee behind himself and took her place, standing in front of Roy.
The rotten smile on Roy’s face disappeared, replaced by something nastier and meaner.
“Did you just…change my plans?”
“What exactly do you want from us, Roy?” Quincy questioned.
Roy’s lighter slammed against Quincy’s left eye, and with unrestrained force, Quincy staggered, palming that eye as it turned.
“Quincy!” Renee gasped, mind scattering.
“I’m…fine,” Quincy assured, though he still couldn’t take his palm away from his eyes, and his voice sounded highly painful.
“Who said you could question me?” Roy demanded, deadpanning.
“What do you think you’re doing!!!” Renee yelled at him, mad. “Because you’re Top Tier and we’re forbidden from disrespecting you, you think you have the right to do anything you wish to us? Who do you think you are, bastard!”
Roy went silent for a beat, but what followed was lethality.
He snapped his fingers. Two Low Tiers brought him kegs which he took and opened easily.
Perceiving the smell, Quincy knew what it was, so he pulled Renee out of the way quickly.
When Roy poured the content of the keg forward, it landed on Roy’s trousers in a zigzag.
Gasoline.
Roy flicked his lighter on and threw it at Roy, expecting him to catch fire with the gasoline, but nothing happened.
No fire. No smokes. Nothing.
Renee and Quincy were stunned too..They gathered themselves in the corner of the cold balcony like chickens.
Roy faced the Low Tiers who brought the keg of gasoline.
“I asked for gasoline!” He snarled hostilely.
“We bought and kept the gasoline in the kegs like you ordered!” They quickly went on their knees, shivering with the possibility of what Roy would do to them. “We really bought gasoline and kept them in these kegs!”
Roy picked the second gasoline keg and emptied it till the keg turned completely empty.
It was then he realized…
It was water, not gasoline.
He brought the keg to his nose to sniff, and it indeed smelled like gasoline.
Meaning; they really bought gasoline in these kegs, but someone had changed it to water.
“Who did this?” Roy muttered, ruminating hard.
In the inside hallway of the house, the blind cleaning woman stood by the wall like a gecko, listening to everything.
But soon, she walked away unnoticed.
“Who the fuvk switched the gasoline to water!” Roy looked at the siblings. “Was it you both? Huh?” He pointed the keg at them. “Did you both suspect that the gasoline was for your sake, then went ahead to switch it?”
“Now you’re accusing us?” Quincy scoffed. “I guess one day if you can’t take a leak, it’ll be out fault too. We did nothing wrong!”
Roy flung the keg and picked a hand broom lying by the door.
He was walking to them with it when a voice leaked in… “One more step forward, and that’ll be the last step you ever take in this life.”
Roy stopped.
He turned around swiftly, coming face-to-face with Rosita.
Rosita stood by the threshold of the house, arms folded, demeanor heated like a demoness’s.
“Naturally, entertainment comes to me, but these days, it’s been terribly scarce.” She released a breath. “I’m bored, Roy. Why don’t you entertain me?” She stepped close.
“And why would I be your object of entertainment?” Roy threw the hand broom away, glaring daggers.
“Because I said so.” Rosita said without blinking. “You’re going to go down on all fours right now, and start barking like a dog.”
“What!” Roy’s ears lifted.
Quincy and Renee exchanged glances of astonishment.
—
[Jethro Ortega’s House]
No unnecessary sounds.
No unnecessary humans roaming around or unnecessary lights on.
It’s as though even nature respected this house and knew when to act. The house stood on top of a hill surrounded by private lands which had been seized by Jethro as his own.
Jethro wasn’t the normal type of billionaire.
He was the type who sent other billionaires on errands.
The type who had crawled through debris and rolled through filth just to know what it felt like before he reached his present throne.
He sat in his Silent Room, relaxed on a high couch with his eyes closed.
A guard held a tray of roasted meat beside him, but Jethro hadn’t touched it. It looked like he was waiting for the perfect time to eat.
In front of him, there was a glass partition, and at the other side of the glass, there were two sleeping dogs.
Giant, black dogs.
“The dogs will wake up in one minute, sir.” The guard beside him informed carefully.
Jethro’s void eyes peered open, and his elbows went rested on his knees. His concentration landed on the glass.
In his eyes, sat a rare, thrilling devil which was starving for evil and calamity, and it looked ready to feed.
The dogs at the other side of the glass woke up, and they stood across each other, baring their teeth and stretching their furs.
Their tails raised, and their noses glared.
Their growls grew.
They looked drugged.
Jethro’s eyes went still, his fingers interlocked, and his thumb tapped the knuckle of his pointer finger.
The dogs went for each other aggressively, and Jethro’s lips lifted slightly at the corner as he watched the bloody fight.
The dogs didn’t fight to survive.
They fought to kill.
The drugs in their heads was their push. Their teeth and claws sank into each other, and their blood sprayed the glass partition generously as they tore each other apart.
One didn’t let go for the other.
The other didn’t stop tearing.
Furs carpeted the floors. Blood reddened the marble. Their ears and limbs and intestines formed a pool, so gruesome.
They tore each other to pieces till their growls died along with them.
Throughout the fight, the thrill in Jethro’s eyes kept increasing, and that curl in the corner of his lips kept sharpening till his smile formed.
So eerily destructive.
He relaxed back on the chair.
“That was one hell of a show,” he uttered, looking satisfied.
The guard lowered the tray, and he tore the carefully roasted meat with the fork.
He had a taste of it.
“Arturo’s investigator is still trying to know you you are, sir.” The guard reported.
“Investigator?” Jethro paused, but then he moved calculatedly. “Ah, you mean the one they call Senior Castle?”
The guard nodded.
“Let him continue his search till I decide if I’ll reveal myself or not,” Jethro chewed his meat slowly. “The real person I’m interested in is El Crow himself… Marisa’s son. I like that he’s as crazy as his mother. I think he’s crazier… wasn’t he once diagnosed with psychopathia?”
A knock kissed the door, and another guard entered, staying behind. “Sir, Satan from Dread House is here to see you.”
“She stepped into the devil’s home by herself?” Jethro smirked down. “I’m curious too…” He looked up. “About what’ll happen when Satan meets the devil.”
“She’s outside, in front of the gate with her underboss Midnight,” The guard further said.
“Let’s see how long she can wait.” Jethro’s voice lowered as he ate another tear from the meat. “Did my daughter leave for the birthday banquet yet?”
“Since an hour ago, sir.” The guard responded.
—
[Marisa’s Manor]
At 10PM, the party still felt fresh like it hadn’t started. No celebrant in sight, yet.
Just the orchestra who’s still playing their instruments without switching hands like they were originally made for the tunes.
And their tunes hadn’t grown weary or low.
It stayed high and moody and catastrophic just like this house.
The only change was that the cake had been wheeled out. A tall, completely black cake with no design whatsoever.
It was just there to be cake, nothing else.
Skylar sat with the wealthy girls now, and since an hour ago, they’ve been chatting with her about things she hasn’t bothered digging for.
These rich girls weren’t only rich. They were well-informed and well-versed too. They knew everything, and she used their mouths well, taking every information she could get.
“My father was one of the men who tried to woo Marisa then, but she turned him down. If she didn’t, maybe she’d be my mother now.” The Princess among them said.
The other girls laughed, but Skylar just smiled a little. She’s not familiar to the art of smiling at all. It felt stressful and mundane.
“They said Marisa never spent more than two minutes in the ring with her opponents then, and she only fought men, and she won them all. Girls, I’m in love with this woman.” Another of the girls gushed.
“Everyone’s in love with Ma,” another said with a cackle.
“But I heard she has bad blood with her only son though.”
Everyone turned to the girl who said that. Skylar turned to her too.
She noticed this girl hadn’t said a word since this talk started.
“Bellatrix!” A girl close to the girl cautioned. “We’re in Ma’s house. It’s not in your place to talk about her relationship with her son!”
Skylar looked at the girl again.
So she’s Bellatrix?
“But it’s true,” Bellatrix shrugged, not giving a shit. “She hates her son cos he’s a lunatic, and her son hates her. But I like the son though. I mean…he’s handsome.”
“I agree with the handsome part,” a girl confessed, and they laughed again.
“Who wouldn’t like him? The illegally buff body and the tattoos!”
Skylar sipped boringly from her champagne flute. Now that the talk was about the stitchmouth, it’s boring.
“Anyone heard about Apex and Null blood before?” She suddenly asked.
The table fell silent as if they were grieving someone, and all eyes turned to her as if she asked the abominable question.
“What?” She frowned.
“The last people with those blood types died centuries ago,” Bellatrix said. “Now in the world we only have the normal O positive and the rest of the normals.”
“But I also heard that back then, Null couldn’t do without Apex. If parents gave birth to a Null child, they bought Apex humans as blood bank for their Null child.” A girl said.
Skylar’s fists rounded tightly under the table. “They bought Apex humans?” She asked with clogged throat.
“Back then, like I heard…” Bellatrix said. “There was a Mad scientist who had a lab for creating Apex humans on petri dishes. He’d collect sperm and eggs and create Apex children just to sell them to rich Null parents.”
“What!” The girls gasped fearfully. “That’s gruesome!”
“Apex were always destined to be poor slaves. Null were always destined to be rich,” Bellatrix added.
Skylar spranged up, suddenly feeling dizzy and unwell.
“Excuse me.” she left the girls and made her way to the nearest door.
Bellatrix’s eyes followed her out.
“I guess Skylar is the next Marisa Cesar.” One of the girls said.
“Cheers to that,” Bellatrix raised her glass, and they all clinked.
Roselle who had been watching them from her lonely angle stood immediately. She rushed into the same door Skylar entered.
—
Skylar searched through the house for a minute before locating a washroom. Now, the chains of silver on her dress were begining to burn her skin. She felt dead.
Not like she had ever felt alive, but this was a deeper kind of dead.
Null were always destined to be rich and Apex poor?
Does that mean she got it all wrong from the beginning?
Her hope of locating her family one day and finding them rich, had it all been freaking fake?
Was Midnight saying the truth about the orphanage?
Was she really picked from the orphanage?
Everything formed a myriad of confusion in her head, so thick she decided to sprinkle water on her face.
She opened the tap, but that was when Roselle barged in.
“Skylar!!!” She yelled in a jezebel-like tone, storming in.
“You stole my spotlight! You stole my spot, thieving harlot!!”
“Stole your spotlight?” Skylar muttered. “You sound as ridiculous as you look in that butterfly dress with your stone-looking hip pads.”
“What!” Roselle sounded poisoned.
“I came here as VVIP. You came as a plus-one, and that’s why I didn’t carry a purse cos you are my purse!” Skylar stung hard like a queen bee.
“Shut that gutter of a mouth!” Roselle tried to grab Skylar’s hair, but the shortness was a disadvantage to her.
She couldn’t, so she slammed her purse on Skylar’s face. The purse hook gave Skylar a little cut on the lip.
“How did you feel when you were talking to those rich girls alone on that table? Did you feel like a queen?”
“More than that,” Skylar smirked. “I felt like the holder of your leash.”
Roselle threw her purse away and came for a woman-to-woman fight.
Skylar was ready to beat her mercilessly too, but Roselle suddenly stopped, sighting Skylar’s lips.
The small cut she got from the purse hook healed right in front of Roselle.
The wound closed up.
“What the…” Roselle gasped.
The door opened, and the female steward peeped inside.
“Ma is coming out now,” she informed.
Skylar gave Roselle a dry glare before following the steward away.
Roselle stood alone, wondering.
When did that sneaky bi+ch get healing ability?
—
[Main Hall]
When Skylar entered, the hall was dark. All the lights were off except one—a spotlight.
The spotlight on the piano.
The pianist was already sitting in front of the piano, ready to play.
The pianist; Marisa Cesar herself.
She wore a white dress.
As usual,no designs.
Just ordinarily white, but on her pristine skin and gorgeous body, it looked majestic.
Her body was the design.
Her long hair was left to flow seamlessly to her waist, and her back was on everybody as she began playing her favorite melody.
Skylar joined the girls.
Their silence continued as Marisa’s piano took over the whole hall.
Skylar could swear that she had never heard a sound so deathly and phantom and dangerous.
So was the other girls.
—
[Outside]
The tyres of El Crow’s car stepped directly on a snake immediately he stopped the car in front of the manor.
The snake was still wriggling as he stepped out of the car, looking like the symbol of death in his blood-soaked white clothes.
No whiteness anymore. The whole shirt and pants were red like red was the original color.
And his eyes?
Nothing to talk about.
They were two pools of undying furnace. They looked like fire and blood mixed together. He was raving, falling into lunacy and already so lost as he marched towards the house, gun in hand.
He wasn’t sane enough to know it’s his mother’s house right now.
But he knew Roselle was inside.
The male steward saw him coming like that, and his eyes popped.
He quickly left the door open, and El Crow stepped inside.
The steward got his phone, dialing the female steward.
“There’s a problem! Ma’s son is here. I didn’t even recognize him at first! He looked like he bathed with blood! Please alert Ma!”
Immediately he dropped the call, the car containing Blade and Kent stopped in front of the manor too.
Then, Castle’s car stopped right behind the car.
The three guys rushed out, and the male steward swallowed.
“What’s… wha…what’s going on?”
—
[Inside the Hall]
Marisa intended to play for ten minutes before cutting her cake, but she has been playing for twelve minutes now, unable to stop.
When she was still in her room two hours ago, she saw Skylar through the hall cameras.
Skylar cut her beautiful hair.
Why would she do that?
Why would Skylar cut her hair?
Why would her Tall Doll do that?
She was sounding that thought in her head as she played the piano, so she got lost in the keys, totally.
She played like a madwoman.
The hall shivered.
The rich girls clung to each other except Bellatrix who stayed calm.
Then Skylar who was watching Marisa interestedly.
Roselle looked disturbed on her spot just like the rest of the rich girls.
The female came in a blind rush, crossing the empty orchestra chairs and nearly knocking the cake away.
She jumped in front of the piano.
“Ma! Your son is here!”
Marisa didn’t stop.
It’s like she wasn’t hearing.
Actually, she wasn’t hearing.
“Tall Doll cut her hair.”
“Why would Tall Doll cut her hair?”
They’re the sentences playing over and over in her head.
“Ma!!!” The steward yelled.
Marisa played faster, louder, more sinister and ghostly.
The hall window opened suddenly with the wind. The glass shattered, sending shards around the hall.
El Crow entered the hall, and Roselle’s eyes stretched.
“El Crow?”
The rich girls attention shifted away from the pianist.
Their eyes went to El Crow who looked deadlier and dangerous than everything going on.
The other tiny lights in the room came on, illuminating everything.
El Crow’s eyes fell on Roselle, and he didn’t stall at all.
Their bond pulled him to her, and he aimed his gun at her as he walked to her, crazily, madly.
Roselle shifted in horror.
The rich girls all went down, covering their ears.
Except Skylar and Bellatrix.
Skylar looked intrigued.
El Crow should have shot by now, but there’s something else.
This wasn’t only because of the soul bound. He didn’t only come here cos of his soul bond with Roselle.
His mind led him here also because of the blood in Roselle’s body.
Skylar’s blood.
The remedy to the opaque poison in his system was Skylar’s blood.
Skylar’s lips stretched into a malevolent smile.
This would be Roselle’s punishment for doing that to Quincy and Renee.
Roselle can’t escape it.
El Crow would kill her and drain her blood right here.
Marisa’s haunting tune was still drifting around the hall when El Crow’s finger slipped under the trigger, ready to pull.
But he never pulled.
Yeah, Skylar’s blood in Roselle’s system was the remedy to his poison, but at the same time, Roselle was soul bond to him. If he shoots Roselle, he’s going to suffer the pain with her.
He dropped the gun.
Skylar’s smirk wiped off immediately.
Why was he not shooting Roselle?
Why would he drop the…
El Crow’s eyes shifted to the other side of the hall—Skylar’s side.
The smell of blood is stronger over there. The scent of Skylar’s blood.
He went for it.
The piano sounds went louder and faster again.
Roselle’s eyes stayed wide.
Bellatrix looked too calm.
Skylar stood her ground till the starving devil got to her.
His burning eyes rested on her lips.
The cut might have healed earlier in the washroom, but the beautiful blood was still there.
On her lips…
He leaned in at once….
TBC.
