The Bestiarum Vocabulum (TRES LIBRORUM PROHIBITUM)

by Dean M. Drinkel

  I screamed in terror, desperately swinging away as she lowered me into the flames.

  “You must be cleansed!”

  I was blinded with pain for a few moments as the flames devoured me, but I managed to wriggle free. My dress was on fire! I rolled across the floor. I tried to beat out the flames with my hands, but they kept on burning so I tore off all of my clothes.

  “Slut!” they chanted in unison. Their eyes fixed on my bareness. “Jezelbel! Harlot! Whore!”

  I fled, but they chased me through the asylum, out of the gate, and into the village.

  “Repent!” Father Braden commanded, suddenly darting into my path. I swerved away, and fled into the trees. I ran for the hills. I ran all the way back to my home, to my father, and when I reached him I dropped onto my knees and begged him for mercy, but he slapped me across the face.

  “You’re no daughter of mine!” he bellowed in revulsion, spitting at me.

  I got back onto my feet and I ran, with the mob in pursuit. It now included not only Braden and the nuns, but also my father, my mother, the priest from my village, and some of my old friends. Tears streamed from my eyes. I made my way towards the coast, but they still followed, and I experienced a feeling of dread when I saw the approaching cliff and realised I was trapped.

  “Stop fearing them,” a voice from above said. “And then they will go!”

  I looked up – it was her. She was flying above me, aided by a pair of giant, leathery wings.

  “Help me!” I implored.

  “This is your dream,” she replied. “I am just a visitor. Stop fearing them, Moyra. They can’t hurt you here.”

  She swooped down and wrapped her arms around my waist. I was lifted off the ground and pulled into the sky. I looked below and saw my father, the nuns, and Braden become smaller and smaller.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am like you,” she whispered into my neck. She was holding me to her tightly, and I could hear her wings beating as she carried us past the coast and across the ocean. “I sinned, and they told my mother that only life of toil and repentance would earn my passage to heaven. They worked me till I fainted, beat me till I was bleeding, spoke to me like I was an animal, and when I tried to escape they cut off all my hair. One day I looked in the mirror and I didn’t even recognise myself. I had nothing left.”

  There was an island up ahead, and she swooped down towards it. I felt a gust of wind flush my face as we approached dry land again. Our feet touched the ground and she released me.

  I turned to face her. With those wings and her wild, tangled hair, she looked like a demon. A defiant and unashamed woman – Lilith incarnate.

  “I want revenge,” she said. “And I need you to help me.”

  “How?” I asked, in disbelief.

  “I have gifts, Moyra, and since you came here something has changed…I think I am becoming stronger. I want revenge on Father Braden, and the Sisters, for what they did to me, but I need your help. I need your strength.”

  “How can I give you strength?” I asked. “I have nothing. Everything I have they have taken away.”

  “This is how,” she whispered, and she grabbed me, pulling me close to her and kissing me. Her tongue was long and pointed – serpentine – and it spread a trail of fire through my body. She pulled me in closer and her hands went to my breasts.

  “Pleasure makes me stronger,” she breathed to my ear. “Let me pleasure you, Moyra, and I will avenge what they’ve done to us.”

  “I don’t know how to…” I said. “I have never…been like this with a woman…I never wanted to until I met you.”

  “No one can resist me,” she stated, pinning my wrists down onto the grass as she straddled me. “Desire – that is my gift, my curse – whatever it is – it’s mine, and I am going to use it.”

  ***

  Throughout the next few weeks I acted out the part of the model Magdalene. I kept my head down, I was obedient to their every command, and opened my mouth only when I was addressed. I didn’t even look anybody in the eye unless I needed to. I carried out my duties stoically, without protest, and never complained when I was tired.

  The thought of her was what kept me going. And every night when I reached my bed and closed my eyes she was there, waiting for me. In this place I was free. We were free. And it was exquisite.

  And if any of the other girls in the dormitory ever heard the occasional sigh or saw a glowing figure floating over my bed, they were too docile and timid to say anything to the Sisters.

  ***

  “You!” Sister Cynthia screeched as she stormed into the garden. Her voice made me jump and the sheet I was pegging fell from the line.

  “Father Braden wants to see you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me as I bent over to pick it back up.

  “Me?” I croaked back in disbelief.

  “Yes! You! Come, he is waiting!”

  I felt a knot tighten in my stomach as I followed her into the building and up the stairs. I dreaded what the possible reason for this summon could be. Dreaded the thought that somehow they had discovered my secret – it was the only reason I could think of because I had been so outwardly obedient and pious.

  Sister Cynthia was unreadable, as usual. My turning over a new leaf seemed to have only made her loathe me even more. I often caught her staring at me in a way which sent chills down my neck – it felt like she desperately wanted an excuse to beat me but couldn’t find one.

  “In here!” she ordered as she opened his door. I stepped inside and then she slammed it shut behind me.

  “Moyra,” Father Braden said, looking over at me from his chair. He seemed in a good mood that day. “Sit down.”

  I walked over to the seat on the other side of his desk and sat myself opposite him.

  “Sister Cynthia said you wished to see me?” I asked, timidly.

  “Yes, Moyra,” he replied. “Oh, don’t look like that – you’re not in trouble. Far from it. You have made myself and the Sisters very pleased recently. So much so that I am having a very important meeting tomorrow and I would like you to be there.”

  “Me?” I blurted in disbelief.

  “Yes, you.” he said. “Other priests from the area have shown an interest in this place and they will be paying us a visit. I have picked you and some of the other girls to be there, and I want you to be on your best behaviour. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Father,” I nodded.

  “You have come a long way towards the path of righteousness, Moyra, so don’t let me down now. Go back to your room and get some rest. I will see you tomorrow.”

  ***

  I am ready now, Moyra, she said, as I slipped into a dream and into her arms that night. I laid my head across her breast, almost in tears of joy as she stroked my hair. Tomorrow, that is when it will happen.

  ***

  The next morning I volunteered to carry out the daily duty of reading verses from the Bible while the rest of the girls ate breakfast. I stood at the head of the table and read from Romans. Many of the nuns even rewarded me with a smile as I recited. To them I was their latest success story; their proof that even the most fallen of women could see the light and crawl their way back up to godliness. Their approval was oddly comforting, and made me feel assured. It made me realise why so many of the girls who were sent here gave in and stopped fighting.

  "Return evil for evil to no one,” I read out loud. “Provide fine things in the sight of all men. If possible, as far as it depends upon you, be peaceable with all men. Do not avenge yourselves, beloved, but yield place to the wrath; for it is written: vengeance is mine; I will repay, says Jehovah. But, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by doing this you will heap fiery coals upon his head. Do not let yourself be conquered by the evil, but keep conquering the evil with the good.”

  Shortly after breakfast me and some of the other girls were collected by a group of the Sisters and escorted into the upper chamber
s. Both Fianna and Bettie were with me, which I was glad for. I strangely didn’t feel nervous at all. My body felt lighter.

  By the time we reached Father Braden he was already conversing with the other priests, and several of their eyes fixed on us as we were guided into the room. Me and the other Magdalenes obediently formed a line before them.

  “With this Magdalene institute we take a slightly different approach to the others,” Father Braden rambled on, without even introducing us. I felt like I was part of a zoo, and the way the priests looked at me made me feel sullied. My eyes went to the window, and I wondered when my secret accomplice was going to reveal herself.

  “Sister Cynthia has been doing a marvellous job in bringing these wanton women back onto a righteous path,” he said, as he ushered her over to greet them. It was the first time I had ever seen her smile, and it looked so artificial that it was an effort for me to keep my breakfast down.

  “This one here,” he said, motioning to the Magdalene girl closest to the door. “She turned up at our door with a bastard in her belly. We took care of her and the baby was given to a loving Catholic family.”

  She didn’t ask you to, you just took him from her, I thought, remembering how often she cried into her pillow at night and all those times she had begged the Sisters for news about her son until Cynthia beat it out of her.

  “And this girl,” he said, motioning to Fianna. “She tempted a man into breaking his marriage vows, and when she came here she was wearing…it would not even be godly to describe it. She looked like a whore. She had nothing. And we clothed her, fed her.”

  She earns her keep. And Yours, I finished in my head, clenching my fists behind my back, praying that something would happen soon. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take – it was all such a farce. He was speaking of us as if we were willing volunteers, as if they were performing some kind of charity, but it was all a rhetorical deception. I had seen the money which changed hands every time the trucks came to pick up the sacks of laundry we cleaned.

  “And this girl,” Braden said, prodding my shoulder. I didn’t flinch. I tried to remain calm. “Was one of the most fallen and wicked we had ever seen. She screamed at us like no woman should. She was caught by her parents with a boy...”

  “I wanted to marry him!” I exclaimed, with tears in my eyes. “We were going to get married!”

  Everyone gasped, and the eyes of all the priests watching me widened.

  “Marriage would not have undone the sin you committed,” Father Braden proclaimed, once he had recovered his composure. “Only through working your penance here will you atone in the eyes of the Lord.”

  “Only by filling your pockets, you mean!” I cried. “What would the Lord think of all that money you stash in that little box under your desk?” I turned to the other Magdalenes who were keeping their eyes glued to the floor, wanting nothing to do with my revolt. “We earned that. It is our work which keeps you all fed and clothed. How is that godly?”

  “The money goes to the Church,” one of the priests stated. Father Braden and Sister Cynthia were too gobsmacked to say anything. “It is used to run the parishes, to fund our missionary work in Africa and the East-”

  “That is important work,” Father Braden hurriedly added. “Those poor savages have the most barbaric and evil ways! They are slaves to false gods. We must spread the word of the Lord to everyone!”

  All of the priests nodded.

  “I am terribly sorry about this one,” Braden said, striding up to me. He was trying to act calm, but I could tell how angry he really was by the painfully tight way his fingers dug into my arm. “I made a grave mistake. I thought she was back on the righteous path, but I fear there is still much work to be done.”

  “Sister Cynthia, will you escort this woman back downstairs,” he asked, with gritted teeth.

  “I will,” she replied, inclining her head slightly as she came forward to collect me. She was acting the part of the calm and controlled Sister, but I could see in her eyes that her inner monster was waiting to be released as soon as we were out of sight.

  Where are you? I thought, desperately, as I was dragged towards the door. I began to wonder if she had only been in my imagination.

  All of the priests were staring at me as if I was a madwoman, and maybe they were right. Maybe I was just crazy. Sinful. Haunted by wicked and shameful dreams.

  Maybe I really did need their help.

  Sister Cynthia hauled me towards the door, and I could hear the priests all muttering to each other as she reached for the iron handle. With a clink the bolts were open and then-

  There was a figure in the doorway.

  For a few moments everyone in the whole room went silent – even the priests who had probably never seen her and did not know who she was. I think they must have felt something about her though. I know I did. Just by her being there the entire atmosphere of the room had changed. There was a charged energy in the air.

  “It’s you…” Sister Cynthia gasped, backing away. I heard some of the Magdalenes behind me make a sharp intake of breath. Many of them had seen her before and recognised her.

  She boldly took her first step into the room. The fact that a woman had her head held high was shocking enough in this place. Her blonde hair flowed wildly down to her exposed shoulders, and the only thing which covered her body was a thin sheet of red which was wrapped loosely around her and left little to the imagination.

  “Out demon!” Father Braden roared, making everyone jump. He reached for the crucifix at his throat and held it up before him, but all it did was make her smile. “St. Michael! Defend us in our hour of conflict,” he prayed out loud. “Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil-”

  But his prayers had no consequence. All it did was make her smile turn wider as she carried on walking towards him. The other priests just stared, their eyes veering between her and Father Braden, as if they didn’t quite know what to make of the whole thing. The Sisters all huddled up together in the corner, behind the priests, clearly terrified.

  “Oh prince of the heavenly host,” Father Braden chanted louder, sounding more desperate and terrified which each syllable he uttered. “By the power of God, cast Satan into hell, and with him all the other evil spirits who wander through the world!”

  She opened her mouth, and his fruitless prayer was drowned out by a sound which came from her lips. It was like a wail, but oddly soothing. It seemed to vibrate the very air around us and almost made me tremble.

  She turned to the line of priests and directed her voice towards them, and they all began to shift uncomfortably. It was only when I noticed some of them moving their hands going to their crotches’ that I began to suspect what it was that was happening.

  They were aroused by her. Aroused by her song. Most of them were trying to resist, and their faces went red with embarrassment as they threw their hands over the evidence sticking out from the middle of their robes in a futile attempt to hide it. One gave into temptation and tore his hand into the opening of his robes to caress himself.

  All of the Magdalene girls gasped, and then two of the Sisters scrambled forward from behind one the priests, with pure intoxicating mania in their eyes. They grabbed hungrily at his vestments and began tearing them off in a frenzy. It started a shockwave, and more of the Sisters jumped upon the other priests.

  “Oh my God!” Bettie gasped, with a hand to her mouth.

  My dream-demon remained in the middle of the room, and carried on singing her song. She tilted her head to the ceiling, wailing louder and louder.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! What are they doing?”

  By now one of the priests had a nun pinned to the floor, and they were ripping away the last remaining shreds of each other’s undergarments. His hand went to opening between her legs and she moaned in pleasure. Just behind them two of the priests were against the wall, clumsily kissing and fondling each other.

  “No!” Sister Cynthia screamed, w
ith her palms pressed tightly to her ears. “No! Stop it! Don’t make me do this!” she wailed, as she fought her inner battle. She was hitting herself across the head, screaming, but this only drew more attention to her. Encouraged my demon lover to turn to her, direct her siren song at her. Make her shake and convulse.

  The next time I looked at Sister Cynthia she had stopped fighting. Her face was grim and resolute. She was excited but in a way which was disturbing.

  She was reaching for the cane hung upon the wall.

  “We need to get out of here!” I said, turning to the others, realising that I did not want to be around when the dark desires of the likes of Sister Cynthia were awakened.

  Fianna was the quickest to react, and went straight towards the door, pulling a pair of the other girls with her.

  “Move!!” I yelled, grabbing Bettie’s arm. “We’re going!”

  “But the Sisters!” Bettie cried, her lower lip trembling. “What are they doing?”

  “Leave them!” I yelled, yanking her shoulder and pulling her out of the room. Just before I slammed the door I caught sight of Sister Cynthia swinging the cane at Father Braden, with more passion in her eyes than I had ever seen.

  “We need to get the other girls and get out of here now!” I yelled to Fianna as I bolted the door.

  “Ok, follow me,” Fianna began to lead the way down the stairs. “I think they’re in the washrooms!”

  We ran down the stairs, and along the corridor. When we reached the washrooms the Sisters who were there must have noticed something about us because they backed down very quickly when we confronted them. It didn’t take long for Fianna to convince the girls to drop their work and get to feet and out of the door. We ran, checking the kitchens and the scullery before leaving the building to make sure we weren’t leaving anyone behind.

  When we broke out of the main door and into the garden I heard a loud rumbling sound occur above and looked up.

  A dark figure burst from the window. She leapt from the pane, and for a fleeting moment I could have sworn I saw her smile at me and wave.