Twisted Sacrament

by Zoe Blake

  Panting, he slowed his strokes and groaned, letting the last weak spurts pool at her belly button. “You are blessed, child.”

  Danielle kept her gaze glued to the ceiling, tracing the tiny cracks that made the pale ceiling imperfect. If only they would spread, widen, bring the whole of Eden crashing down on her… maybe then she’d find peace. But if God existed, he wasn’t looking at this place. Definitely not looking down at her, at the naked body that couldn’t stop shaking. There would be no miracles here, no mercies. When the man appeared beside her again, he was already put back together, clothed and smiling like the world was as good as the priests described it.

  “This is the first of many blessings,” he said. Tugging his sleeve up, he held it in place with one hand so he could smear the ejaculate across her skin without tainting his robes. Priest or not, it didn’t matter. There was no one holy within the walls of Eden, and the nightmare had to end at some point.

  Maybe they’d finally kill her.

  “Drink this, my child. It will help you rest until they’re ready for you.” He wiped his hand on a small towel, and then held a cup to her lips.

  Hollowed out, all she could do was stare as she obeyed and swallowed. It tasted like water, maybe a little sweet, and some of it spilled past her lips to the rough sheet beneath her, but there was no chastisement in his expression. Just that plastic smile carving out creases around his mouth.

  As he walked back to the tray, he leaned between her legs and prodded the tender flesh he’d violated before grinning wider. “Only a little blood, very good.”

  Returning her gaze to the ceiling, she clenched her teeth together and tried to block out the rest of his idle chatter. None of it mattered. She didn’t matter.

  If there really was a God, he’d call her home.

  Chapter 5

  She had been dozing, lost in a place between waking and dreaming where she could almost smell warm food cooking. A perfect place where kind words hovered just out of earshot, and all she wanted with every tattered piece of her soul was to stay there — but in Hell that was more than she could ask for.

  A pinch to her arm sent lightning through her veins, like a full body shock that had her heart pounding and ripped her back to reality. Danielle sat straight up, gasping and clutching her chest to try and make the traitorous organ still. Why couldn’t she just die? Why did her heart continue to beat when there was no more will to live?

  The kind priest grabbed her shoulder gently. “You must be calm, my child. Lay back down, the medicine is still working to wake you. Let it work, and it will keep you strong.”

  Turning away from his touch, Danielle frantically searched the space around her and realized she was in a normal hospital bed. There were no stirrups, no metal tray of horrors, and when she raised her wrists she saw they weren’t even marked. A thin, gray blanket lay over her, and she threw it back to find the same was true of her legs. No bruises, not even a lingering redness, but she could still feel the tender ache inside with each strange, involuntary flutter of her inner walls.

  “Pl—” she tried to plead with the priest, but her voice gave out, cracking into nothing more than an exhale of breath.

  “She will have trouble speaking for a bit longer, but the cardinals are aware of that. It’s a side effect.” The bastard who had done all of this to her stood in a gap in the white curtains, smiling directly at her. Just as fervent in his joy as he had been when he was inside her.

  Who are the cardinals?

  Swallowing, she looked into the soft brown eyes of the priest, trying to make him understand what the man had done, but he couldn’t see. Couldn’t understand, or didn’t want to. He turned away from her silent plea and shook the monster’s hand. “I will remind the cardinals if they ask. They want me to bring her soon. How long until she can walk?”

  Panic seized her chest as a terrible feeling swirled in her stomach. Something worse than death was closing in, she knew it, and the priest was going to lead her to it.

  The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

  “No, ple—” Danielle grabbed onto the priest’s robe as her voice broke, trying to make him understand, to make him see, but he ripped his sleeve away and stared aghast at her actions. She pressed her palms together to beg, or pray. Whatever he wanted if only he would stop it.

  He answered her with a slap, not anywhere near as hard as the others who had chastised her, but it still stung and shattered whatever meek flare of hope had been born at his presence. She didn’t bother touching the mark. Bowing her head, she clasped her hands together in her lap, hard enough that the tendons stood out in stark relief. Still, he tsk’d. “It would be a terrible disappointment if I had to return you to the chain room for your behavior instead of bringing you to the cardinals. The punishment would be severe.”

  It was a threat, a reminder to behave that she hadn’t needed in so long, but for once that dank room filled with old chains and manacles didn’t sound like a bad alternative. Whatever waited for her with the cardinals would be worse — and at least she knew the horrors that came after the chains.

  “Nonsense. She doesn’t need to go to the chain room, she’s been very obedient. It’s likely just the excitement of being woken up so rapidly.” The man turned to her, still wearing that sick smile. “She is blessed.”

  The priest turned to scrutinize her, his soft brown eyes moving over her face as if he wanted to read her soul, or whatever was left of it. After a moment, he spoke in the gentle tone she’d come to expect from him. “What do you want, my child?”

  There was no good left here. Maybe there was no one good left anywhere, and this was truly Hell. A place where there was no salvation, no grace, no God. Swallowing, her throat felt a little less stiff, but her voice remained quiet and scratchy as she forced out the only answer they wanted to hear. “To serve.”

  “Good.” The gentle priest smiled, and it felt warm and genuine even though it was a lie. “We all make mistakes, child, and God forgives us in his limitless grace and love.”

  As ill as it made her, Danielle nodded.

  Chapter 6

  The walls were damp as they descended another set of stairs, although these were stone and seemed to take longer with their tight coil. Escorted in front and behind, with the gentle priest leading and the cruel one following, Danielle wondered if she slipped on the next damp step if the tumble would break her neck. It was tempting, and she even tested the slickness of a stair, but then there was firelight reflecting off the walls.

  There were no more stairs to tumble down. Her chance lost.

  Two men in large black cloaks, faces obscured by the hoods, waited at the bottom between twin torches. Beyond the reach of the flickering firelight was darkness, and if there had ever been a gateway to damnation — this had to be it.

  “I was told to bring this woman to the cardinals,” the gentle priest said, but as he stepped forward one of the men raised his hand, stopping him.

  The other pointed at her, and then turned his flat palm to the ceiling and beckoned her forward with a single bend of his fingers. She was frozen, something beyond fear snaking down her spine and gripping tight.

  “They will take her the rest of the way, father.” It was the cruel priest, and she felt his warm hand in the small of her back as he nudged her forward.

  Danielle moved robotically, taking small steps toward the dark figures, and when she risked a glance at the gentle priest, he was still staring into the darkness as if he longed to walk into it. Insane, they’re all insane.

  As soon as she was close enough to the men, they each grabbed their torch and began to move down the hall that looked to be carved directly from the rock. Large crosses outlined in shining gold thread decorated the backs of their cloaks. A robe she had never seen inside Eden, and she wondered if these large men were priests as well, or something else. Something worse.

  “Remember, my child, God honors those who serve,” the gentle priest said before he turned and followed
the other up the stairs. Danielle stayed where she was, torn between the urge to follow him up the stairs — damn the consequences — or do as she was told and pray that it earned her some form of leniency. Some respite from the pain that she knew waited for her in the black.

  The growing brightness on the walls around her made her turn, and sure enough one of the cloaked figures was returning to fetch her. Bowing her head, she clasped her hands in front and walked to meet him. When he didn’t begin walking again, she was sure he would strike her, punish her for the disobedience, but the void inside the hood only stared for a moment longer before he turned away.

  This time, Danielle followed. A little slower than their long strides, but she was close enough to see them use a key to open the thick wooden door at the end. The hum of voices coming from within pulled her forward, the brighter light teasing her curiosity until she stepped through the doorway and into a massive room.

  Black walls at least three stories tall towered above her, with beautiful pilasters carved directly from the stone. Ornate details in the walls and ceiling were highlighted by the flickering firelight from an immense fireplace at one end of the room. Even from so far away, she could feel the heat, and her feet turned toward it on instinct. Now the cloaked men followed her as she approached the oval table where men sat drinking and eating. A round of laughter rolled over them, and then they slowly fell quiet as one by one they turned to watch her approach.

  Delicious scents hit her nose, strange for a moment until she placed them. Cooked meat and fresh bread. Saliva pooled in her mouth, her stomach rumbling, all fear replaced by raw hunger.

  “Are you hungry, my child?” The first man to stand from the table was hard to see with the glare of firelight behind him, but he spoke like a priest.

  Nothing is free in this place.

  Meals were always earned through service. Mistakes and failures were punished with pain and hunger. There was no other way inside Eden, but her body was wrong. The cruel priest had done something horrible, and no matter how much she wanted to remember the taste of bread — she wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

  “Come here.” Another of the men spoke, turning in his seat to beckon her forward, but her feet wouldn’t carry her closer. They were all dressed in rich red fabrics, more vibrant than she’d ever seen outside her hazy memories.

  The cardinals.

  Her core clenched, a dull cramp that awakened the lingering ache and made her press her thighs together. As several more cardinals stood, she swallowed the saliva in her mouth and took a step back.

  “Bring her.” The cardinal at one end of the table sat in a large chair with a high back. Like a throne, it caught the firelight with glints of gold in places. His command had silenced the others, and it was the two cloaked men who followed his order.

  Each arm caught in a viselike grip, there was no fighting their strength as they hauled her forward, half-lifting her from the ground when she stumbled. They dumped her at the feet of the cardinal, knees bruising on the stone floor as she stared at his crimson slippers. Not thick boots like the men who she was called to serve, or plain black shoes like the priests, but soft-looking slippers.

  “My child, you are here to fulfill a great service to God. What do you say?”

  It was a line from the priests’ scripts, but she had no doubt this was where those words had come from. These men who ate luxuriously in fine clothes, hidden underneath the hell they had built. Long, frail fingers touched under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. A faded green in a much older face, creased by time, although he looked healthier than anyone else in these walls.

  “What do you say?” he repeated.

  “Tha—” Her weak voice cracked, and she swallowed. “Thank you, God.” It wasn’t much better, still scratchy and the fact that her voice broke on the last word felt appropriate.

  The cardinal smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, we must always thank God for his grace and his love. Without it, we would all be lost. Without it, Eden would not exist as the last place for salvation. Here, my child, drink to ease your thirst.”

  A shining goblet was offered, filled with a red liquid to match the man’s robes. Wine. Another flickering memory, like a picture in a book, only now it was in her hands. Bowing her head, she whispered the correct prayer of thanks, almost inaudible, but she hoped it was enough to get to keep it. To taste it. When she lifted it to her lips, she waited for someone to stop her, but they just watched as she tipped it up and drank.

  “So pious, she prays before she drinks.”

  “The divine has chosen well.”

  “We are blessed for God to have sent her to us.”

  Danielle ignored their voices even as they came closer, drinking until she’d emptied the goblet. Soft laughter came from a few of them as she bowed her head and held it up where the cardinal could take it back.

  “Here, my child. Have mine.” Another large glass was offered, less ornate, but she dipped her head and began to drink it as well. Before she was done, the cardinal took it back. “Oh, not too much. It is watered wine, but in a delicate flower like you… moderation is best.”

  “Taste this instead.” A hand studded with two large golden rings moved into her vision, a shining piece of meat held in pinched fingers. The smell of it had her leaning forward to accept it, open-mouthed as the grease and salt touched her tongue. Danielle closed her eyes and moaned low, greedily sucking his fingers for just one more taste. It was a hundred times better than the warm soup. A complete kaleidoscope of flavor.

  The next offered her warm, soft bread, another something small and dark that was incredibly sweet. On her knees beside the cardinal’s throne, she let them feed her like an animal. Licking fingers, sucking them into her mouth, unabashed as her belly gradually became full for the first time since she’d awoken in Eden.

  “That’s enough, we don’t want to make her sick on so much of God’s bounty.” The head cardinal ran his thin fingers through her hair, plucking at the knots.

  Danielle almost whined but nodded instead. “Thank you, father,” she replied softly, surprised to hear her voice without the strain.

  “You sound much better, my child.” Patting her cheek, he smiled and touched her shoulder. “Stand so the council may see you fully.”

  There was a tingling warmth spreading out from her belly that ebbed the fear she’d felt when their eyes had first landed on her, and as she stood, she peeked at them through her hair. This time their smiles seemed less dangerous, but nothing good lasted long in Eden.

  “Here in our sanctuary you have been shielded from the horrors of the world, my child,” the cardinal said, but he was looking across the table at the others as he said what must have been a joke.

  Did the man have any idea what happened to women upstairs?

  “Our enemies are wicked, evil men who have given themselves over to the devil in their hunger for power. It is why Eden must be protected through whatever means God provides, for Eden is the last chance for salvation. We are the last line of defense in the holy war to ensure God wins dominion over the earth.” The speech was made in a strong voice, echoing off the ceiling as his words rang down the long room, and beneath her feet Danielle could have sworn she felt the floor rumble.

  Sounds of agreement came from each of the cardinals, many saying Amen as they made the sign of the cross. When their gazes returned to her, she bowed her head and clasped her hands, faking prayer as she avoided the stares and tried to forget the hunger she’d seen in their eyes.

  “This evening, God has provided us with Danielle. A fitting name, my child.” The head cardinal clapped his hands twice, and a string of men in the dark cloaks walked out from the shadows on the edges of the room. Platters and plates were cleared away, leaving only the large containers of wine and the cardinals’ goblets.

  “Thank you, father,” she whispered, eyes tracking the platters. Turning in place, she watched the men disappear with the food, mourning the loss as a much smaller t
able was carried out. Round, it seemed to be made of stone, and was heavy enough that it took six of the cloaked men to place it between the long table and the fireplace.

  “Do you know what your name means?” the cardinal asked.

  “No, father.”

  “I will tell you.” Another warm smile that didn’t meet his eyes, even as he stood and extended his hand to her. She stared at it for a moment, wary. No priest had ever offered her his hand, and this was a cardinal. The cardinal, which meant that refusing it would be worse than whatever would happen when she laid her hand in his.

  As soon as she laid her hand in his, he caught it in a grip much stronger than she expected and led her around his throne to the round table. The gray stone had carvings in it, symbols and words she didn’t recognize around the edge, and one large symbol carved in the center. It looked ancient, worn smooth by time, where even the edges of the carvings had a slight slope to them.

  “Danielle means God is my judge, and you have been judged, my child. Judged and chosen to be part of this world’s salvation.” The intense look in his eyes had her stepping back slightly, but his grip tightened painfully and she whimpered. “Do not be afraid. God honors those who serve him.”

  “Let us bless you, child.” Another cardinal took her other arm, pulling her toward the table, and she shook her head.

  “You must give your thanks with all of your self,” said another from behind, and then there were multiple hands on her, pushing and pulling her until even when she tried to struggle she was overpowered.

  “Please…” she whispered to the towering ceiling as they held her down to the stone. The heat of the fire was glorious on her skin, but it couldn’t reach the hollow cold settling in her belly.