by Lily White
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Fear the Wicked: Copyright © 2017 by Lily White
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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FEAR THE WICKED
Illusions Duet – Book Two
A Dark Thriller by Lily White
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Author Note and Disclaimer:
This book is intended for entertainment purposes solely. This novel discusses sensitive subject matters. Readers who sensitive to triggers are advised to proceed with caution.
The opinions given by the characters in this novel do not reflect those of the author. They are fictional characters with minds of their own.
Other Books by Lily White
Her Master’s Courtesan
(Book 1 of the Masters Series)
(Available on Smashwords)
Her Master’s Teacher
(Book 2 of the Masters Series)
Her Master’s Christmas
(Novella in the Masters Series)
Her Master’s Redemption
(Book 3 of the Masters Series)
Target This
Hard Roads
Asylum
Wake to Dream
Four Crows
Illusions of Evil (Illusions Duet, Book One)
ELIJAH
It would take some finesse on my part to bend the morality of the citizens of the small town I’d inherited.
Every Sunday, they showed up faithfully. And every Sunday, I eased them into the violence I knew lay just beneath their skin. It was right there, an electric current just waiting for the proper outlet to be expressed. Time would pull them all into my mind, would set them on the path of salvation that the family had already begun to walk.
Most were readily pliant, others more difficult. My twin brother, Jacob, had done an impressive job losing the trust of his parishioners. During the week he went mad, he was rude to them, he'd distanced himself from them, and he'd insulted them.
Especially the father of Annabelle Prete.
Just thinking about that poor girl had my shoulders shaking with soft laughter against the cheap, secretarial chair in Jacob’s prior office.
Richard walked in and I tracked his short journey across the room, my eyes meeting his when he dropped his weight into a chair facing my desk. I pulled the clerical collar from my neck and threw it on the wood surface.
"How much longer, boss? The family is getting antsy."
"A few minutes at most. Eve is ready. The martyr that she is." More soft laughter was a vibration over my chest.
Grinning, Richard glanced over my shoulder toward the window at my back. "Joshua may have an issue with the example being made of his sister."
"Joshua knows," I explained, little concern in my voice for how the family members would react to the show.
Three months wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough time to isolate the town. With the small farms and bevy of blue collar talents, it wasn't difficult to become a community without much need of outside assistance.
In response to my sermons, the citizens had slowly closed themselves off, had turned away from the televisions and internet, had burned whatever cultural items their children had acquired in an effort to blend in with the youth of the larger cities hundreds of miles outside our borders.
Isolation was key and to accomplish that, I'd spoken to the Diocese regarding the threat against the Mother and remaining Sisters at the convent following the discovery of Sister Joyce’s body. There wasn't much left of her. It appeared she'd been abducted by the same psychopath that stole Eunice from the convent's doors, but rather than returning her to the parish, he must have left her to the wild animals along the lonely dirt road where she was discovered.
A smile had stretched my lips during that particular phone call, but fortunately they could only hear the feigned regret and sorrow in my voice.
The Diocese agreed that the remaining nuns should be removed to another convent far from our sleepy mountain, at least until the killer was caught. They’d left me in charge of the small congregation, alone and unsupervised, and then thanked me for the foresight to see to the nuns' safety.
Oh, yes, Father Hayle, you are so wise...
I'd laughed at the compliment. They were nothing but slack-jaws, all of them.
Richard's meaty hand ran through his brown hair. Shoulder length, it framed the parts of his face that his thick, long beard didn't hide. With broad shoulders and a rotund stomach bulging over the large buckle of his belt, Richard leaned back in his chair, kicked his legs out and crossed them at the ankles.
Unlike him, I was the sleek rural priest with black hair and blue eyes, shoulders as broad as Richard’s, but a stature standing a few inches taller. Built to seduce, my body was a weapon of deception as opposed to Richard's brute strength.
It was no surprise to me that the younger female parishioners - those girls that had come to an age where childhood was far behind - batted their eyes when I looked in their direction. In truth, they were flirting with Jacob, not realizing I'd taken his place.
"Five minutes," Richard finally said, his voice as gruff as his appearance. "You should get in your robe and get out there." He paused, considering. "Not many people showed up from town."
"I didn't invite many," I explained as I pushed to my feet. "And the cassock won't be necessary. This isn't Mass or anything formal, just a gathering of the family and the men from town that I think will be ready for this little treat. Once we have them convinced that it's normal, they'll help convince the other men. Once we have the men, we'll have the women, and once we have the women, we'll have the town.” I winked at him. “Baby steps, Richard."
Nodding, he smiled and stood to walk with me into the hall, our booted steps heavy and in no hurry against the ground.
Turning the corner, we looked across the nave toward the sanctuary. Eve sat in a single, small chair to the left of the pulpit. Covered by a hooded black robe, she angled her head down so you couldn't see her face.
Silent. Motionless. Both fearful and excited, Eve proved her worth to me every single day.
Anticipation was the tension across our shoulders.
"You think she'll scream?" Richard asked, a touch of humor in his question, his eyes darting between Eve and me.
My lips curled at the corners, desire crawling inside me as electric sparks beneath the skin.
"I know she will," I answered, "in both pain and perverse pleasure. And I can promise you, Richard, there is no other music like it."
EVE
The ceremony would b
egin in a few minutes.
I listened to the people who gathered, felt compelled to peek out from beneath the hood just to know who would stand in attendance of the first true cleansing. But no matter how badly I wanted to know who would stand in witness, I kept my head bowed and out of sight, just as I'd been instructed.
Elijah warned me that it would hurt. Not as bad as the brand I wore on my shoulder, but more than what he did to me in bed. Yet, I didn't fear what was coming. Only because I knew that what would follow would be a release of pressure like I'd never known.
Wickedness is only relieved with pain. And pain is a balm to the sinner's soul. It flays you open, settles inside, and shreds you until there is nothing left.
You're meat, pulled open and tenderized while the pain whistles across you. But once you're clean, once every last ounce of the sin you carry is lifted and banished into the ether, you’re free. A bird flying high. A dolphin gliding through water. You are lost in a moment of pure bliss that is a comforting hug in the warm morning sun.
Only Elijah could give that to me.
Created. Molded. Shaped and formed, I was what he wanted. I was what he alone knew existed inside me. But for all his power, all his wisdom and his strength, he was never able to remove the doubt I carried.
I loved him and feared him. Worshipped him and despised him. I couldn't live without him, even while knowing he would one day kill me.
The shuffling of feet quieted, the soft thud of bodies settling over the pews, and the sharp clatter of keys slapping against the wood from where the rings hung on the parishioners' belts.
Only one set of footsteps could be heard. Low and rhythmic, they approached the altar and pulpit, beats measured by a steady gait, the powerful and seductive walk of a predator.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I thank you for gathering together with me today."
Elijah's voice was a low hum across the room, a soothing melody in a rich tenor, a tone that was as soft as it was fierce. My heart sped at the sound of it.
"I'll start off this meeting with an explanation to those few who were invited. You'll notice there are no women or children in attendance, and the only people here tonight are the few men who I didn't doubt were ready to protect the serenity of their small town."
Grumbles of understanding and murmurs of approval were the harmony accompanying Elijah's words.
His manner of speaking was casual, a group of men discussing simple politics. There was no rush to the point, no emotions beyond the soothing laziness of a well-trained voice. I fell easily into the hypnotic lull of a peaceful summer afternoon just like the others.
Silence for only a moment. Broken when Elijah spoke again.
"I had a female parishioner approach me this week, gentlemen. She came to confess, came to speak in earnest about the sins she'd committed outside of town. I know this woman well, as do many of you. And it pains me to find that she's fallen for the Devil's seductive temptation."
He paused, his voice deepening. "She's possessed, it appears. Possessed by a demon that could infect your children...your wives."
More murmurs erupted, a few sharp inhalations of breath that betrayed the shock felt by a few of the men in attendance.
"We owe it to this woman to help her. More than that, we owe it to ourselves to protect our families from the threat staring us in the face." Another drawn out pause before, "May I speak frankly, Mr. Prete?"
The man's response wasn't oral, but he must have given some indication that Elijah could go on.
"We haven't always seen eye to eye have we, Mr. Prete?"
Another silent answer.
"And I think most of the people in this room know why. But for those who don't, I'll state the facts of the situation as delicately as possible. Annabelle Prete was a good girl. She was a believer in the Almighty, a young woman with a bright future ahead of her. She made her father proud and the town right alongside him. She was going somewhere."
I could hear Elijah pacing slowly to my right, his steps the only sound breaking apart the silence pregnant with trepidation and hesitant interest. It would have smothered me beneath its heavy weight if not for Elijah moving around.
"Annabelle is dead, and between what was said to me in her last confession and what was sent to me by an unknown person outside of town, I'm concerned that the spirit infecting the woman seated next to me was the same one that infected Annabelle."
His steps stopped.
"I won't show the pictures, but I can tell you they were indecent, immoral, and utterly shocking. They were porn, images of a young girl who didn't know she'd lost her way. Disturbing as they were, they only verified what the young woman said to me before she died. More disturbing than that was my behavior toward Mr. Prete following the death of his daughter. I was so full of righteous fury and intolerable regret following Annabelle's death that I'd forgotten the discussion I'd had with Mr. Prete. At least until he reminded me."
I remembered the girl's death, recalled that it changed Elijah in a way I couldn't understand. While I'd always feared the power inside him, I'd been shown a softness I never knew existed. The first few days in the parish, he'd tended to me with a gentle hand. Resisted me until I'd cried believing I'd been rejected.
When he resumed his attentions on me, the first few times had been a caress of healing hands and sensual teeth. But after that girl died, after he witnessed a woman lost to the demons that plagued her, his attentions on me had changed.
The pain was exquisite, yet agonizing. His fear that I'd be lost as well driving him to exhaustion as he worked his magic inside me, as he battled and fought the sin that filled me until I was practically screaming.
Elijah had changed from one man into another. I couldn't understand why that change frightened me. Perhaps I was coming to life for once in my life, or perhaps I was being dragged back into the veil of ignorance and doubt that had always consumed me.
"I want to apologize to you, Mr. Prete. For both my weakness and my cruelty. I'm sure having lost one of your daughters, you can understand the pain I was feeling."
Mr. Prete wasn't much of a talker and it drove me a little mad that I couldn't see what was happening in the room.
"I was unable to save that young woman from whatever sickness plagued her. I was unable to guide her away from whatever monster it was that stole her virtue and took pictures of the crime he committed against her - the pictures he thought necessary to send to me."
My breath caught. I knew what was coming. Elijah's voice grew in strength as he spoke his next words.
"I couldn't save Annabelle, but I can save this woman. However, I'll need a strong body around me, a group of men whose faith in the Lord is without doubt. I need prayers, gentlemen, while I exorcise the demon ensnaring this young woman. Can you offer that to me despite what you see? Can you bless me and this suffering child of God with your participation and understanding?"
The men in attendance spoke, each acknowledging that they would give Elijah whatever help he needed. Faceless voices in different pitches and tones, each one resolute in their agreement that my sin needed to be cleansed.
"We'll begin," Elijah announced. "Eve. Please walk to me."
My legs barely held me as I stood, but I managed to cross the distance between us, was able to remain on my feet at Elijah's side. I wondered if the pain would be excruciating.
"This may shock you, gentlemen, but I believe desperate times call for desperate measures. She has the demon of lust inside her. Its sharp claws are entangled in her heart, its razor sharp teeth embedded in her soul. It's stolen her virtue and sanity, her ability to think clearly in the face of temptation.”
His hand touched my shoulder. I lifted my eyes to see the men sitting in attendance. My gaze stilled when it locked on the faces of my father and brother. There was no fighting the tears that fell.
"Eve," Elijah said, "We'll need you to confess before we can drive the demon from you." His voice softened. "Can you do that for me?"
I
almost laughed. He'd never asked me that question before. Normally he demanded a confession out of me.
"Yes," I finally answered.
The fabric of the hood slid from my head as he removed it, the cloth sash tying the robe around my body loosened until the robe itself was pulled from my shoulders. When they witnessed my nudity, some murmured in surprise, while others stared at the parts of me that brought on my shame.
Fully exposed, I was the spectacle of a woman's deception.
"Calm down, gentlemen, I know this is uncomfortable. But if we are to help this woman we need to stand in witness of her shame and degradation. We need to believe in the Father who will lend us His strength in casting out the evil that holds her captive. We need to look upon her with an eye of pity rather than that of lust. It is just a naked body, one with a natural purpose that has been used to the Devil's advantage.”
The hum of conversation grew quiet and I was directed to stand between two large posts, my face turned to the stained glass window, my arms bound above my head and to the sides of my body - cuffs attached to the posts that would secure me in place.
A shudder of doubt rolled through me, most likely the demon shaking beneath the knowledge that it would be expelled.
My head fell forward.
"Confess, Eve. Tell God your sins so that your penance will cleanse them from your body."
More murmurs of surprise erupted just before the strike of a whip cut into my back. The scream that burst from me was unholy, my tears hot and steadily flowing as I forced myself to speak.
"I've had disgusting thoughts," I breathed out, trying and failing to add any strength to my voice. The burning line across my back felt like it seeped beneath my skin to set my lungs on fire. I couldn't draw in air, could barely think past the sting of purification. "Thoughts that no person should have."
