Devil's Fire (18 page)

She patted my calf as though she’d read my thoughts. ‘You don’t mind that I’ve appointed myself your guardian angel, I hope?’

‘I may need one some day,’ I replied, wondering about my answer if Father Luc asked how I’d spent my afternoon. ‘You realise Brother Christy witnessed our pact?’

‘It’s just as well, since I can’t be your constant shadow. If you wish to remain chaste for Hyde, Christy can be trusted above the others.’ She smiled quizzically. ‘The kitchen crew sometimes speculates as to whether he’s been unmanned, or was born without all his parts. He doesn’t have the same…urges as the rest of us.’

I nodded, wondering if I had enough energy to dress. It was only mid-afternoon, so I had to account for my time with the abbot. ‘He’s shown an interest in my quilts, though,’ I remarked. ‘Gave me a good idea for my next one, and has offered to take me where they store the discarded clothing. With four more to sew, I’ll be needing a variety of fabrics and ideas.’

‘The catacombs, eh?’ Sybil glanced away, her expression furtive. ‘Be careful down there, Mary Grace. You never know what might spring out from those old crypts and crannies.’

A
lthough I still thought of Sybil more as a fallen angel than a guardian, my life at Heaven’s Gate settled into a cosy routine over the next several weeks. Whatever she’d said — whether in the form of warnings, threats, or ultimatums — I was no longer the target of every monk’s lust, nor were my times with Hyde considered opportunity for group entertainment. I sat with my room-mate and her kitchen crew during Sunday services. I completed my second quilt, as well as the splendid Noah’s Ark design Brother Christy had suggested. I was no longer an outsider, nor a woman to be tricked and ridiculed.

Best of all, because Hyde auctioned my garden quilt for five hundred dollars, and sold the second for almost as much, Father Luc allowed me to work unhindered, and to assist in the kitchen whenever I desired other company. It was the scene Hyde had sketched before bringing me here — or at least a closer match than I’d known my first week. And when Mr Fortune presented us with a cheque for three hundred and fifty dollars — half of what he’d convinced Delores Poppington to pay, to donate the Noah’s Ark quilt to Papa’s church — no one was more delighted than I! Mary Grace Michaels was becoming a recognised name about town; a respected talent whose work commanded a pretty price, and a woman who now had her own growing bank account.

When Hyde returned to town after that early-March visit, I gleefully shared my success with Brother Christy. ‘Look at this,’ I said, showing him the proceeds from my latest sale. ‘That velvet giraffe and the rainbow of brocades was an inspired idea. What should I design next?’

The monk looked at the cheque, and then wiped off his spectacles to study it again. ‘My stars,’ he breathed. ‘With what you’ve earned us so far, Heaven’s Gate could function a year or more without producing another pound cake.’

He glanced up, his expression speculative. ‘How many more quilts did you agree to make, Mary Grace?’

‘Three, by the end of May. I could use my mountain aspen quilt as one of those, but right now I’m looking for another unique idea. Something bold and colourful.’

We stood in the sunshine, near the gardens where roses and azaleas bloomed in perpetual splendour. Brother Christy’s hair shone like a halo, while his chubby cheeks took on that glow of saintly conviction I often saw there. ‘Walk with me,’ he suggested, taking my hand. ‘Nature is often our best inspiration. Heaven and Earth provide a lush palette, if we observe with open minds and eyes attuned to a higher purpose.’

I had strolled these grounds between long stints of quilting, so the gardens and the cottage yards were now quite familiar. As we continued towards the orchards, I sensed the monk beside me had an ulterior purpose; something besides ideas for illustrations.

‘Ahmad has been asking about you,’ he remarked quietly. ‘He wonders if you’ve been avoiding him, or shunning what he would teach you.’

I’d seen this mystical creature at meals, and had waved at him during my walks, but Brother Christy’s comment summed up my attitude perfectly. How did I politely tell this friar I didn’t want Ahmad’s long, ring-pierced cock rammed up my backside?

‘Often, when I need uplifting or inspiration, I come to the orchards to talk with him,’ the man beside me went on. ‘He has an innate sense of my needs. Because he’s attained a high level of spiritual understanding, we often communicate without needing to speak.’

This brought to mind a ribald picture of Ahmad humping the chubby monk. Not good material for a quilt illustration, but food for thought nonetheless. ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘Ahmad has a definite presence. A way of transcending ordinary expectations to impart his wisdom in memorable ways.’

Brother Christy flashed me a wry smile. ‘You don’t like him, do you?’

I laughed. We’d suddenly come from the cosmic to rock-solid honesty. ‘Actually, he fascinates me. But some of his…teachings involve more intrusion than inspiration.’

‘Perhaps today you’ll be more receptive. Ahmad’s a persistent sort, but once he’s achieved his aim, he moves on without belabouring his point.’

I wasn’t surprised Brother Christy knew how I’d refused the black man’s advances, and as we approached the neat rows of apple, cherry and pear trees, his motive became clear. The two men who’d declared themselves my protectors had a plan: my afternoon would be spent pursuing that epiphany they’d mentioned. While I could choose not to accept such instruction, it would only prolong these secretive sessions designed for my enlightenment.

‘Ah — there he is, among his beloved bees.’

I followed the monk’s extended finger, looking beyond the trees to the stacked white hives. While I considered bees a necessary evil — and they were certainly a mainstay at Heaven’s Gate — I could never trust creatures with stingers. They seemed far too interested in me, even when I did my best to avoid them.

Yet as we drew near enough to observe Ahmad working the hives, I stood in awe. The tall black man, naked, was nothing short of astounding: his muscles rippled with his measured movements and, yes, that eternal erection led the way as he lifted slats fat with honeycomb.

Brother Christy grasped my hand, a signal to walk no closer. ‘He works without a smoker, so we must be careful not to disturb them,’ the monk whispered.

Ahmad replaced the flat lid of the hive, and then turned towards us with utmost grace, smiling like a benign Nubian god. He was covered with bees. The shine surrounding his onyx body was actually the sunlight reflected from thousands of tiny wings. The insects had settled in his hair and on his face, and as he raised his arms to assume the shape of a cross, I saw bees crawling on his legs and upon that rod he pointed in my direction.

‘Ah, Mary Grace, my petulant petunia,’ he crooned. The movement of his facial muscles made the bees shift around his piercing black eyes. ‘You’ve come to yourself, so you’ve come to me. You now witness the state of inner tranquillity to which you should aspire. Because I listen to the wisdom the bees impart, giving them my total devotion, they allow me to move among them unharmed, and to take the gift of their nectar. Are you ready for the next level of my instruction?’

I bit back an outburst about how I detested insects with stingers. ‘What would you have me do?’ I breathed.

The magnificent bee-covered Ahmad bowed slightly. ‘I applaud the willingness in your voice, reflected in the openness of your soul. However, I cannot expect you to tolerate the bees’ intimate attention just yet, so Brother Christy will escort you to our sacred grove. Immerse yourself in prayer as you await me, my precious pupil. Light the incense to create a holy smoke, and I will come to you, to anoint you with the wisdom of my words and the fire of my loins.’

I gladly followed Brother Christy out of the orchard, yet my insides tightened. There could be no mistaking what Ahmad intended, and my other protector would be his accomplice. To reassure myself, I whispered, ‘Have you ever let the bees cover your body that way?’

‘Oh, no!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ahmad is in charge of the apiary, and all of us rejoice in that!’

I breathed easier. At least hundreds of buzzing little bodies wouldn’t accompany my instruction. As we came to the ring of trees laden with bright, shining apples, however, it became obvious this session had been planned.

‘Now there’s a picture for a quilt!’ the monk said, gesturing towards the semicircle of green trees bearing their red fruit. ‘Reminiscent of the Garden of Eden, don’t you think?’

Or the Fall of Man, I mused, searching the grassy ground for a snake. ‘I’ll keep it in mind. I was hoping for a scene with a wider range of colours and texture.’

‘And by the time you leave here — if you comply — you will have experienced a veritable kaleidoscope, Mary Grace.’

‘And if I don’t?’ I blurted. I disliked the sharp, thin line his mouth had become.

‘We’ll try again. And again. Ahmad senses your potential, so considers it his mission to develop you to the highest level of comprehension. Anything less would be a waste of both your talents.’ With that, Brother Christy slipped a bandanna from his pocket and wrapped it around my eyes. ‘I am to prepare you for this journey. While I set the incense afire, you should remove your tunic.’

This monk had certainly seen me naked, yet I balked. ‘I don’t understand why —’

‘Yes, you do,’ he intoned from close behind me. His hands met at the juncture of my thighs, creating an awareness in my sex. ‘And when Ahmad has finished, I’ll reward you with colours and textures like you’ve only dreamed of, sweet Mary. Fabrics fit for a queen will be yours, if you keep our commandments.’

I swallowed, wishing I could watch Ahmad’s arrival. I reminded myself that these two men could allow no real harm to befall me, because I’d established myself as a source of income. Yet inside I quivered. And as I slowly peeled my tunic up over my hips, I realised my fear was feeding an excitement that now wet my sex. The memory of Ahmad’s hands massaging my arse and my inner folds made those parts of me tingle as I bared them. I stood then, awaiting further instruction. I could feel Brother Christy’s gaze upon me as I caught the first scent of smoke.

‘Assume a position of humility, Mary Grace. Prepare yourself for the man who comes to us even as I speak. He’ll expect your complete submission.’

I let my tunic drop and knelt in the cool, thick grass. Was I facing the correct direction? Would I be able to carry through with this intrusion of my most private part? As I flattened my hands on the ground to rest my forehead upon them, I had no more time to worry about it: I could feel Ahmad’s approach. His charisma preceded him, causing a thrill of gooseflesh to cover my exposed parts, even as I heard a faint buzzing and felt an occasional flicker against my skin.

I clenched my teeth. Damn that man, to arrive with the beasts I most feared!

‘I see you are preparing yourself, my precious peony,’ came the familiar voice. ‘And you flinch, shrinking from the bees who couldn’t bear to leave my company. Be still, Mary Grace, and know that I am in control — unless your rash behaviour inspires their wrath. They only sting when provoked, you know. They will respect my presence and be lulled by the incense, as long as you accept my instruction…the affection I long to share with you, my pretty princess.’

With my head pressed to my hands and my arse in the air, I hardly felt like royalty. At the first contact of Ahmad’s hand, however, I let out the breath I’d been holding. His slender fingers slipped inside me, loosing my juices. He was kneeling behind me, his body large and warm against mine as he plied my inner passage with sure, steady strokes.

‘Tell me how much you like this,’ he murmured.

‘Ohhhhhhhh…’ The ring in his cock swept along my crevice, but made no effort to enter.

‘We’ll review our last lessons, and continue from there. My friend, if you’ll bring that censer closer,’ he instructed the monk, ‘Mary Grace may inhale deeply and let the smoke work its magic while I beguile her.’

I was then enveloped by a heavy aroma that hung in my lungs. Curiously sweet it was, to the point of being cloying, yet Ahmad’s insistent fingers coaxed me into breathing it in, several times in succession, until I experienced a heady weightlessness.

‘Yes, precious Mary, relax,’ the mysterious man behind me instructed. ‘Let me have my way. Trust me to lead you along a path of new knowledge.’

My next cry was mixed with shrill laughter, because a damp, pointed tongue had found its way between the halves of my arse. I aimed my posterior higher, moaning as Ahmad dipped into that puckery portal I’d previously refused him. A light, flickering finger circled my clit, then spread my wetness around my folds and the hole that was aching for want of attention. Next thing I knew, he was spreading something thicker, and stickier.

‘You must obey and submit,’ he instructed, ‘because the bees will be attracted to their honey — and your own. Raise yourself up, Mary Grace. Accept Brother Christy’s assistance.’

‘Or mine,’ another voice cut into the spell he was weaving. ‘Sybil sent me for apples, warning me to watch for serpents in the garden. And I see a long, black snake trying to bedevil you, Mary Grace.’

That low, hoarse voice could only belong to one woman — or man, as it were. ‘Elvira?’

‘At your service,’ came the reply, and then she squatted beside me. ‘If this isn’t the sort of attention you want from Ahmad, I’ll escort you back. Are you aware he and Christy are plying you with opium?’

I shook my head, awash in a pleasing sense of altered reality.

‘She’s come here of her own volition,’ my teacher challenged. ‘I’m relaxing her to make her more receptive, more accepting of the wisdom we’ve already prepared her for.’

‘We’re not expecting anything of Mary Grace she hasn’t given to others,’ the monk added. ‘She’s asked for colourful inspiration for her next quilt, and I’m granting her request.’

Elvira let out a sarcastic snort. Then she stroked the loose hair from my forehead. ‘It’s your choice,’ she said softly. ‘Sybil sent me to watch out for you, so your wish is my command, sweet Mary.’

I wavered for a moment, blindly reaching out — glad when a large, warm hand engulfed mine. ‘Stay with me,’ I whispered. ‘Once this initiation is complete, I can move on to my next quilt. I just want to prove — to Ahmad and myself — that I’m open to new experiences.’

I must have made myself clear, despite my muddled state, because my newest protector shifted around in front of me.

‘We will now resume,’ Ahmad said testily. ‘If you’ll bring her to a state of arousal, in a form she enjoys, you’ll divert her temporary discomfort as I raise her level of comprehension from a different direction.’

‘And by doing so,’ Brother Christy chimed in, ‘we will allow Miss Michaels to chastely honour Mr Fortune’s intentions towards matrimony.’

I smiled at the mention of Hyde’s name as Elvira’s fingers slipped into my slit. Her stroke was less confident, yet the unrhythmic attention gave me something to concentrate on as my arse was being honeyed like a bun. Up inside me Elvira ventured, with two probing digits, squatting so close her breath fell upon my half-covered face. I imagined her upswept curls, and the male features disguised by kohl and rouge; it was a secret to savour, knowing a thick, randy shaft jutted beneath her tunic. In my curious mental state, it seemed only right to share my rising excitement: reaching discreetly beneath her clothing, I grasped Elvira’s erection. The answering gasp spurred us both on, as though no one else were present.