Women Scorned (12 page)

When she awoke, the scene had not changed much. The water in the tub was pink with blood that ran from the man’s nose and ears. His lips were blue but he still chanted, rocking and screaming while slapping himself in the face. Several times, with a twisted grin, he made a horizontal slashing motion, his muscles tensing as if he were dragging a knife over something firm. Then he’d relax for a moment, looking like he was dying, before his strange eyes would pop open and he’d begin again.

Aludra watched him for two days. He never left the bathroom, never ate, never slept, never relieved himself.

Then finally, he died.

His breathing came in harsh rasps. Knowing the end approached, she perched herself on the toilet, waiting.

Gasp
.
Gasp
.
Gasp
. He muttered to the end, his body giving up the fight just after noontime.

She watched for the stab of light that would rip his spirit from his body. But it didn’t come. That’s when she realized what Rory had taken from him. Rory had consumed the man’s spirit, somehow pulled it out of him and then left him with one horrible, life-ending mental image. The man had died in torment but his spirit was already vanquished. She’d spent two days with a husk. How did that happen? She knew she could affect a person’s spirit but to remove the essence completely... What had Rory done with it? Had she taken it into herself? Cast it into the spirit world?

Whatever the power was, she wanted it. She had to find a way to force the spirit out before the body died. And then, if she could replicate Rory’s process somehow… The more spirits she could possess and control, the stronger she would become.  Not bothering to lock the door when she left, she headed in the same direction Rory went but then stopped about a mile into the forest. Time. She still had time before she needed to take Rory. She could sense it wasn’t far away, cavorting with its new playmate.

Aludra needed her own pleasure.

She spotted another house in the distance. She marched toward it, careful not to snap any twigs, humming as she went, stealthy as a cat. She gained access through the back door and found a woman in the kitchen stirring a large black pot on the stove.

“I’ve come to instruct you,” she announced, “in the pleasures of pain.”

The woman jumped, dropping her wooden spoon. She stood staring at Aludra, uttering no sound whatsoever.

Aludra could taste the woman’s fear as she closed the distance between them. She grabbed the trembling woman just before her hand could reach the knife in the cutting block.

*  *  *

The High Priestess sat naked in her room, rope burns livid on her throat, wrists, and ankles. They glistened with the salve she’d rubbed on them earlier.

Unable to deny her curiosity any longer, she decided to spy on Aludra. She stared into a candle flame. The only light in the room flickered shadows against the stone walls. As she chanted under her breath, she was filled with a vision.

She watched Aludra observing a man in a tub.

Still chanting an hour later, she saw Aludra leave the man’s house and walk into a forest. She took a path different from Rory, apparently choosing not to follow her.

The High Priestess blew out the candle, put on her robe in the dark and opened her door to the dimly lit hallway outside. Hood up, head down, she glided through the manor to the High Priest’s chambers and knocked on his door. He had to know.

“Enter, daughter,” he said. He sounded tired. She didn’t mention it as she pushed open his door. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, eyes closed, breathing slowly.

“Aludra has gone astray.”

“How do you know?” He didn’t open his eyes.

The High Priestess closed the door as she cleared her throat. “Because I’ve been watching her, Father.”

“You what?” His white eyes flew open. He fixated on her with his tiny black pupils.

Stealing herself for what she knew would come next, she said, “The ritual won’t work if she keeps going astray.” She didn’t flinch when he rose, hovering a foot above the ground. His eyes became as red as blood. His voice boomed throughout the room.

“How dare you doubt!” His feet touched the floor again, but only just. He floated toward her, his naked toes scraping the floorboards. “You are to wait!” His voice filled her head, though he didn’t speak.
She is the chosen one. She will lead the spirit here. DO NOT DOUBT ME AGAIN!

Bloody tears streamed down her cheeks as immense pain filled her head. A twisting sensation flowed through her body but she didn’t look away. Not yet. The Dark One’s powers were too much for her to bear, however, and at last she cowered at his feet, sobbing, retching.

“I’m sorry, Lord. I believe. I trust. Yes, she will lead the spirit. But how?”

The door flew open behind her and an invisible force hurled her from the room to hit the hallway wall outside. As she crumpled, the Dark One’s voice filled her thoughts once more:
It is not for you to question me, wretch.

She stood, quivering. Once she’d regained her composure, she smoothed her robes and left, making her way down to the altar room. She had deserved that. Spying on Aludra. Why would she think to do that? It was stupid. Of course the Dark One knew what he was doing, even if she didn’t. She rubbed the rope burns on her wrists then wiped bloody tears on her sleeve.

“Let this be a reminder to you,” she said to herself. She passed another robed figure in her path but he did not look up at the sound of her voice. He kept walking, muttering a chant under its breath.

“Don’t question the Dark One’s ways. You’ve had to be taught a lesson twice this week. No more. Obey. That is enough. The rest will come as planned.” She repeated this to herself.

In the altar room, she cast her spell for the day to banish anything from the area that shouldn’t be near their secluded retreat.

*  *  *

When his door slammed shut, the High Priest was released from the Dark One’s grasp. He fell in a heap to the floor, gasping and clutching his chest.

He grimaced as the Dark One’s voice resonated. “Your doubt still lingers in her heart. You are not strong enough.”

His features softened, mouth drawn down in worry as he said, “But why is Aludra going astray? I thought you said she is to be tracking the spirit. We need it for the ritual.” He sat up and closed his eyes, focusing inward, focusing on the one place where he could see the Dark One when its presence eddied through him, strong like it was now.

Before him, he peered into piercing red eyes in a swirling pit of black. He couldn’t turn his gaze away from this burning aura.

“Why do you question now? For the last three hundred years you’ve been an excellent servant. Why this sudden petulance?” Each time the Dark One spoke and each time his voice became his own, his face changed. When the Dark One’s voice rose inside him, his features twisted into a grimace of disgust and his eyes seemed to burn—not quite as bright as they ignited in his mind, but to all in the manor, it was always clear when they were addressing the Dark One rather than the High Priest even though they shared one physical body.

“Dark One, I do not wish to question but the High Priestess is right. Aludra is not doing what she set out to do, what we trained her to do.”

“FOOL!” Pain twisted the High Priest’s insides, causing him to coil up and writhe on the floor, though he didn’t lose his focus. He was determined to finish the discussion before the Dark One left again. He waited for the pain to subside, for the Dark One to continue. Always, if he had patience, things would be explained.

“The chosen one
is
doing what she was made to do. How else do you think she will draw the spirit? The spirit is attracted to those who have wronged others, those who have vengeful souls seeking them. Allow Aludra her time and Rory will follow her here.”

And, just like that, the presence vanished, leaving him feeling whole again, himself, empty.
“I am a fool,” the High Priest muttered. “I must seek penance for my doubt. I must banish the thought from my heart once and for all.” He could think of only one way to accomplish this.

Robe billowing around him, he took the same path the High Priestess had taken moments before. Once past the upside down bleeding cross, through the door and to the bottom of the steps, he took the canal-like chamber through the vertical slit in the rock-face. He felt his way through the dark to the chamber where the High Priestess had gone to vanquish her own doubt.

The High Priest knew how it worked. He had set the chamber up himself so many years before to subdue his second Eve’s mind. It had been the only way. It still worked too.

He disrobed. Though ancient, his muscles held him stoutly erect, his body no more aged than it had been when he first met his master. Head held high, he submitted himself to the same torture he’d prescribed for others so many times.

The warm slab caressed his back, easing his mind as two robed figures came into the chamber. The High Priest gazed into their blind eyes and shuddered. The same men he’d set to this task nearly 300 years ago. They picked up the heavy ropes and tied them around his wrists, ankles and finally his throat. They stood at their stations, waiting to turn the wheels that would tighten the bindings.

“How many?” The one at the head asked.

“Three should be enough for now,” he said.

They stopped and murmured to themselves. “The High Priest. It’s the High Priest. What do we do? We are to do him no harm.” Confused, they stood still, turning their heads from the slab as if to look away from something they couldn’t see anyway.

Candlelight flickered over his toned form. He closed his eyes.

“I am here on my own orders. Do it!” He took a deep breath anticipating the sound of the posts grinding in the dirt, the ropes tightening, pulling his body. They still didn’t move.

“But, High Priest…”

“You would like three turns, yourself?”

With a final second’s worth of hesitation, the wheels began to move. On the first turn, the ropes gripped, bringing a smile to his young-looking features. The pressure, so far, was bearable but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. On the second pass, he felt the pull from under his arms and in his groin. As the noose around his neck cut off the blood flow, he felt icy doubt turning to slush, melting from his heart.

Pulsing, a vein stood out on his forehead. He didn’t tighten his muscles, didn’t resist the tug but instead welcomed the pain, hoping to be rid of his doubt forever. On the third spin, he could no longer breathe. His eyes pushed at his eyelids, hands and feet feeling swollen, sinuses feeling like they were stuffed with cotton, ears ringing. He wanted to laugh, wanted to thank the men for all their work over the years, wanted to kiss the Dark One’s horny feet, wanted to dance naked with the High Priestess, with his Eve. The ritual would go as planned. Aludra would draw the spirit to them. They had no reason to doubt the Dark One, ever. He was cleansed.

“You have been sent here to learn a lesson. Do you feel retribution, remorse? Do you now understand?” The words he scripted centuries ago sank into his heart, opening his mind to his errors, his doubt. He did understand, he did feel remorse, and, best of all, he felt retribution seeping into him, enshrouding him in faith and truth and love for the Dark One who gave everything and asked so little in return.

He nodded yes, a pressured grin spreading over his purple face. Grateful tears leaked from his eyes. Why hadn’t he done this long ago?

“You will not repeat the same mistake?”

He shook his head no as best as he could. Chest burning, he longed for a lungful of the warm air around him.

“Then you are released.”

Never had the High Priest felt such relief. The moment they said the word “released,” he felt his heart completely free of doubt. He could soar as high as an eagle if he so chose.

One reverse motion. He sucked in the air and exhaled in a moan of triumph. Hands and feet tingling, underarms and groin burning, throat aching, he laughed, a choked and harsh sound in the gloom. As they turned the wheel a second time, the ropes were tight, but no longer painful. Feeling flooded through his limbs. His body burned with electricity, alive for the first time since Eve’s death. Three times around. All pressure ceased. The men untied him.

The High Priest sprung from the table and bounded to his clothes.

“Thank you,” he hollered as he ran through the canal and back into the manor. Alive. Never had he felt so alive and full of hope. He would live forever with his beloved at his side as promised. The Dark One would not fail him. The Dark One would always be there to ensure his security so long as he served, obeyed, and didn’t doubt. He would never doubt again.

Chapter Seven

“Time to play; time to play,” Aludra whispered in a girlish sing-song. A cathedral stood before her, the Romanesque spires reaching to the heavens, each tipped with a large cross. The Church of the Holy Mother was the largest building in this small town, next to the hospital. Singing and organ music filled her with awe. Never had she heard anything so ethereal, so powerful. She never knew sound could carry so much magic. It had to be magic to make her feel the way it did.

She stepped through the large front doors into a red-carpeted entryway, then through another set of double doors. These were adorned with brightly colored stained glass depicting a robed woman and her child. The image reminded her of what her mother must’ve looked like. An ache seized her chest. She gasped, feeling her eyes burn as she gazed at the image. Maybe her mother held her this way before she’d been cast out of the Order. She had not known her.

The baby in the glass looked warm curled in the crook of an arm and the folds of the robe.

With a shake of her head, Aludra turned away. This was no time for nostalgia or self-pity. She saw a group of people in long gowns standing on some sort of platform and a man in black directing them with a stick. To her left and right were altars carrying hundreds of tiny candles. At the base of each altar were wooden benches—far too small to sit on—with red pads on them. Each pad carried twin indents.