“I just wanted to watch you,” she said. Camilla could hear tears in her voice.
“Don’t cry.” She was coming back to herself. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.” She stared at the stalker for a minute then asked, “Why are you following me anyway?”
“Because there are no accounts of a true-to-life zombie. I wanted to be the first.” She eased closer to Camilla showing more bravery than Camilla knew she felt.
She scoffed. “I hate to break it to you but, like I said, I’m no zombie.”
“What are you, then?”
She thought about it. Finally she said, “I don’t know.” She looked into the scared woman’s eyes.
“Shit,” the stalker said with a sigh.
“Care to help me find out?” People didn’t see her. She bled without dying. She hungered for breath. What the hell was going on here? What did that fucker cop do to me? She needed any help she could get. This woman, for some reason, could see her when no one else could. That alone was enough for Camilla to want her along. She didn’t realize until talking to the stranger how alone she’d felt. She hadn’t been acknowledged for four days.
“Okay,” the woman said, a slight tremble in her voice.
“You’ll have to keep up then. I don’t know where I’m going but I don’t want to waste any time.”
“Should we get you some clothes?” The redhead eyed Camilla.
Camilla looked down at herself. “Since no one else can really see me, since I don’t feel uncomfortable in any way, since I don’t know what the hell is going on anyway… no. I don’t think I really care about clothing right now. Besides, the last time I wore clothes I just felt dirty.” She remembered the way her pants squelched between her legs as she wandered toward the hospital. That all felt so far away, so long ago, even though it had only been about four days.
The redhead looked a bit uneasy with Camilla’s response but she went along with her anyway, not trying to sway her.
“I’m Libitina,” she said. She didn’t offer to shake hands.
“Camilla.”
Libitina laughed to herself. “That’s funny. I’d been thinking of you as Jane all this time. I didn’t think you’d have an actual name.”
They both laughed at that, but there was no mirth in it. Camilla needed another breath, and soon. Like a junkie, she trembled with desire. She didn’t know how to find more of what she needed but she knew that, like before, she would be led to the person who could satiate her craving.
Chapter Six
Aludra watched as the one she hunted emerged from the back door of the house and talked to the redheaded woman. She hid in the bushes listening to their hushed voices. Unable to hear what they were saying, she amused herself by examining their body language. She could tell the redhead feared Rory, and rightly so. If she only knew half what Aludra knew she would be terrified. The Spirit Carrier laughed in the dark, a shrill sound that rang clear, even from the distance.
Then the two women left. She could feel which direction the female half of Rory went so didn’t immediately satisfy the compelling urge to follow. Instead, she wanted to see what had been done to the man inside the house. She’d watched Rory follow him home. What drew her to him? Why did she go inside?
It had made her uneasy as well when Rory had walked through the wall. She didn’t know how they were going to keep her locked in the manor if she could walk through solid wood. She guessed there had to be safeguards. After all, they’d held the male half captive for months now.
She wouldn’t worry about it. That was for the High Priest and Priestess to figure out. Her duty was to bring the spirit half to them.
Aludra ran across the backyard and into the house.
She could hear the man muttering, crying and laughing all at the same time from what she assumed was the bathroom. Water splashed and she moved closer to the sound. The man she’d seen earlier sat in a bathtub filled with what must be cold water. His knees were drawn to his chest. He was rocking back and forth, shivering.
“Bitch had it comin’, had it comin’ all along, dress sexy, tease me like that. She wanted it, they all do, all want it.” And then he screamed, a piercing sound in the dark. Aludra flinched, then grinned as he continued ranting. “No, no, no, no, no!” He shook his head back and forth sending droplets spraying against the walls. Cupping his hands over his ears, he sobbed and said, “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me, not again, not again. No, I can’t.”
“What did she do to you?” She crouched next to him as he slammed his fists down, splashing her. She didn’t move, though her shirt now clung to her body. “Fascinating. You poor, poor dear,” she cooed and petted the top of his head. He continued ranting. “What pleasures you must be experiencing now. How rich your life must be. After going through this, you will have a better appreciation for living, I promise.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.
“Yes. Feels good. I’m strong. I can take her, can take anyone. Tight. Sweet. No! No, I can’t.”
“What do you see? What did she do to you? Oh, what I wouldn’t give to experience your pain right now. I can see it.”
He turned his head. His eyes glistened black in the moonlight coming through the bathroom window. Aludra gasped and sat down. He didn’t see her. He turned his head forward again, rocking back and forth, splashing, yelling, laughing. When she noticed her hand cupped over her gaping mouth, she pulled it away, glaring at it dumbfounded. She then looked back at the man.
“Your eyes… what’s wrong with you?” She leaned forward, her heart pounding in her ears. This unfamiliar sensation crept through her and she didn’t know what to do. For some reason, she had a hard time bringing herself to touch this man. But he was just a man. Why should it be difficult to touch him?
She forced herself to place her hand on his shoulder again. He turned, screaming, his mouth gaping wide, vacant eyes boring through her. He is not actually seeing anything, she thought. Then he shouted, “You’re not the boss of me.”
Aludra pulled her hand back as if his skin burned and scooted sideways, bunching up the bathroom rug.
The man thrust his hands in front of him and struggled with an invisible attacker, thrashing his head from side to side. Then he screamed, a high pitched panicked sound, more like what she’d expect from a woman being tortured than a man sitting in a bathtub. Aludra’s hands flew to her ears to block the invading screech.
She left the room, panting, shaking. Something—she couldn’t say what—unnerved her about him. There was something different about him compared to any other person she’d encountered, something wrong, and she didn’t like it. It bothered her that his ailment escaped her knowledge. She felt unprepared, sickened by her weakness and inability to act in this situation.
His sounds faded as she moved into the kitchen to collect herself. Separated by the short distance—the lunatic’s ongoing screams from the other room—her nerves calmed. Her stomach and shoulders relaxed.
The strange sensations in her body had haunted her as a child when the High Priest had first taught her the pleasures of pain, but not since then. Her self-control astounded all the Order. And her ability to understand her world and how things worked became a source of pride. For the first time since childhood, she feared; she did not understand the world and her place in it. For the first time, she felt alone.
I want to know what the spirit did to make him like this. She stared down the hallway. Feeling Rory was close enough, she decided she would stay with this crazy man until she understood what was happening. Time was still on her side and she knew where Rory traveled. There was no need to continue following so closely if she didn’t have to. There was plenty of time to play.
She refused to be consumed by feelings of loneliness and fear. She would instill these emotions in others, but never again allow them to enter her mind. She would find another toy and all would be better.
But first she needed some rest. Hearing the man
’s tortured screams, Aludra shivered. It didn’t take much to push a person to insanity, she knew this but still wondered about what he saw, why he continued to wail. With a heavy sigh, she lay down on his bed and fell asleep, lulled by his unending tirade.
Her white-blond hair spread over his pillow, she looked like a sleeping angel to anyone who didn’t know better. Terribly beautiful, she could seduce anyone she chose. But she held no vanity, having no concept of beauty and ugliness. People were people in her eyes, each one ripe for the teaching.
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.
Women Scorned Page 9
