I called his name over and over again, but I could not see him now. I wanted to go with him, but I could not follow, shame locked my legs and stilled my blood. I crawled halfway across the field before I could carry myself again.
I could see the godhead now and I headed toward it carried by something other than shame and fear and regret, borne on a tide of bloodlust. I went up to it and looked it right in the eye and beat my fists against it until they bled, raining curses on its presence.
“I have made my sacrifice!” I told it over and over. “Let me go.”
When I was sure it was not humming again, I pulled myself up the stairs and into the house. It was dark, the generator had not been filled and the lights were gone. But I did not need light now. I was a creature of the darkness, a destroyer of souls.
I walked naked and dripping into Dante’s room and crawled right on top of his bloated sleeping belly, straddling him, shaking him awake.
“I’ve done it, you bastard.” I meant to shout, but my voice was diminished by the enormity of what I had done. “I’ve won the wager.”
He sneered at my naked, storm-whipped flesh, the empty triumph in my eyes, and knocked me to the floor. “You haven’t won yet. We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
I started to rise up, even to strike him, but he was on the floor faster than he should have been able to move, pinning me down, his hands around my throat. “Don’t you dare raise your hand to me or I will kill you,” he promised.
“I broke him,” I told him. “I took God from him.”
Dante's smile was carnal and merciless.
"Body and soul,” he said. “It has to be body and soul.”