by Jillian Rose
“The scar on your face…” I said, now feeling quite dissociated from my body.
“That thing you saw in there? Is known as a third tier lesser demon. He’s grown since I saw that son of a bitch last, which tells me our fears were right. We thought we destroyed it back during the raid, and that the town’s rampant Christian fanaticism, a sort of magic in and of itself, would keep it from growing. You see, there are forces in this world that are like Mobley, and the mad Russian from the Ural mountains. Someone out there saw what you and your boyfriend were doing, and saw a perfect opportunity to awaken a beast without having to lift a finger.” He said. He threw out his cigarette and started the car.
“I don’t understand. Are you… are you saying someone set us up? Knew this was all going to happen?” I asked.
“You’ll understand eventually. Like I said, you just opened up a literal pandora’s box. The next few weeks of your life are going to be fast paced and confusing. You’re going to undergo an identity change, you’re going to be relocated, renamed, everything. I hope you’ve always fantasized about a fresh start kid, cause you’re getting one whether you want it or not.” He said.
Chapter 12.
He was right. My name used to be Elizabeth Conover. Now it is Anne Jennings, and I live in Eugene, Oregon, working as a library assistant at the university. I am technically property of the United States government, my every move, my every bowel movement and phone call and shower are monitored by unseen eyes. They believe that those who put in motion the events that led to Jesse’s death are still out there trying to recruit me, to get me to join their side. I don’t believe them, but then again, after everything I’ve learned, I don’t know who to believe. Existence is a gray pointless blur, that is occasionally marked by intense episodes of grief for Jesse.
I wrote this manuscript not only as a way to get some closure, but also to remember the one man in my life I felt I could truly love. So I could remember all the good times me and Jesse had, the intimacy between us and all the things I’ll never get to do with him again. There is a hand gun buried inside my mattress. It’s been there for two months, so I know they don’t know about it. I told myself after I finished writing this, I would use it on myself. Despite everything they do know, we still have no idea where the human soul goes once it dies. I would be fine if it didn’t go anywhere. I am tired, and I just want to rest.
Part 2. The Blood is Love
Chapter 1.
“…Are you sure this is the right place?” Cynthia asked as she walked with Sharon, arm in arm down the sidewalk. This was the farthest she’d been from campus, and she didn’t like the part of town they were in. She knew Saint Louis was notorious for it’s crime rates, and here she was, a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet, walking with her even smaller girlfriend through a neighborhood marked with graffiti and used needles laying haphazardly about.
“Yes, this is it. Look, I know it looks sketchy, but I promise you, these people are legit. You wanted good shit? They got it.” Sharon said, pulling her along. They were walking up the cracked walk way leading to the ancient looking white house, three stories tall, the paint faded and chipped, the front yard a mess of bizarre sculptures, many of which were sexual in nature. Gargoyles fucking supple young cherubs in various poses, devil like creatures sitting regal upon a throne made of the bodies of women who’s faces looked agonized. It was all quite distasteful to Cynthia. God this acid better be out of this fucking world, she thought.
Together they walked up the steps, Sharon knocking on the gothic looking brass knocker. While they waited, Cynthia looked around, and noticed that this was the only actual house on the street. All the other buildings were shabby apartment complexes crammed together with hardly a two foot gap of alley way between them. This house had an actual yard, some breathing room. It looked wholly out of place here, to Cynthia anyway. She flinched when the door opened suddenly, and a pale faced young man answered the door. He was blonde haired, blue eyed.
“Ah, Sharon, good to see you again.” He said, and then smiled a shark like grin at Cynthia. “I see you brought your special friend. Most excellent. I’m brother Damien.” He said, extending a hand to shake, which Cynthia did so reluctantly. He moved and ushered them inside. The potent smell of cannabis and incense hit them like a physical thing as they crossed the threshold. They entered a large rectangular living room that was completely devoid of furniture or decorations. There was a TV sitting against a far back wall, on the screen was a long haired man who was talking directly into the screen. Sitting around the TV were eight people who dressed identically in black garbs. They didn’t seem to notice the women at all as they entered.
Cynthia knew they were dealing with a peculiar group, and she knew she was going to have to perform for them if she was going to get the discount price she’d been promised. That was all fine by her. But she didn’t know she’d be dealing with an actual fucking cult.
“You are nothing without your brothers and sisters. You are all a part of something greater than yourselves. You are a part of the Flock of the Golden Shephard. You are the Shepherd’s disciples. You will listen when it speaks…” The man on the TV droned on in a lilting southern accent. He had long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a strong masculine jaw. He looked like every panty soaking male celebrity out there. And he had the room’s total and complete attention save for the couple and their chaperone.
“This way, please, to the ceremony room.” Damien said. They followed the man upstairs, Cynthia holding tight to Sharon’s arm. She was keenly aware that none of the faces she saw in there were black. Cynthia didn’t think these people had a racist aspect to them, her understanding of the flock is that they were a peaceful group who were a ubiquitous presence at festivals all across the country, selling their infamous home brewed hallucinogens to folks and recruiting people who wanted to be part of the new revolution, of spiritual enlightenment. She assumed (hoped, really) that that was how Sharon knew them. Never mind that Sharon was a blonde as well and they’d only been dating for six months. Cynthia thought she was good at reading people, and there was no way Sharon rolled with these weirdos. Besides, she seemed just as creeped out as Cynthia was.
The house was bigger than it appeared from the outside, and the upstairs hallway had a bizarre layout, in that there were only two doors, they were both at the end of the hall, directly across from each other. One door was red, and bore a symbol that was also emblazoned upon all their black shirts. An upside down cross that had what appeared to be an eye at the top. The other door was black, and featured several esoteric looking symbols carved into the wood. Damien ushered them through the red door, and Cynthia’s eyes widened when she saw the room.
Everything inside was all the same identical shade of deep red. Blood red. The walls were bare and painted red, the floor was hard wood, stained red like the body of Cynthia’s Gibson SG. Painted on the floor was a large geometric figure. It wasn’t quite a pentagram, it had more angles and points to it, with words in some kind of language Cynthia had never seen before encircling it. Both the symbol and the words were painted a brighter shade of red than the floor, giving it the impression of a recessed shadow.
“This is where you will be performing tonight. We are all very excited to witness it. We believe that the human orgasm is one of the most potent forms of life energy. Some call it sexual magic. We call it the language of the shepherd.” He said.
“Yeah…About that. Do we get to try a taste of this infamous Shepherd? You’re cutting us an amazing deal, and I want to make sure this stuff is as good as the hype makes it out to be.” Cynthia said. Damien smiled that awful grin again and nodded.
“Oh absolutely. In fact it is required that you ingest the body of the shepherd before you perform. You must operate at the same frequency that we do in order for the energy to be harnessed by us.” Damien said.
“…Okay.” Cynthia said, trying not to be rude at how absurd that sounded.
“I’ll be right back
.” Damien said, and walked through the red door, and directly across the hall to the black one. He knocked, and someone quickly let him in, shutting the door before Cynthia could get a glimpse inside.
“Girl, did we just step into an episode of the fucking twilight zone?” Cynthia said under her breath, laughing in awe at all of it. Sharon gave her a slightly reproachful look, and shrugged her shoulders.
“Hey come on… they’re not bad people. They’re harmless, they just want people to be in touch with their sexual selves. New age self-actualization with a tantric twist.” Sharon said. Cynthia was surprised to hear her girlfriend getting defensive about the group. Something about that struck her as not right.
“How did you come to know who these people were anyway? Do they have members on campus or something?” Cynthia asked, still keeping her voice low. But before Sharon could answer, Damien returned, and he brought with him a friend, he too of the blonde hair, blue eyed variety. The newcomer had on a pair of black gloves and a respirator, and on the finger tips of his right hand were three small paper squares, the familiar symbol printed in gold on each one of them. He held them out in invitation for the two girls to take.
“Luckily for you two, brother Dillan has just finished with the batch that you all will be buying wholesale. Go on, each of you take a tab.” Damien said.
“Just one?” Cynthia asked, plucking the tab delicately from her fingers, staring at it for a second before placing the acid on her tongue, Sharon doing the same. There was no bitter after taste or tingling, so it was clean at least.
“Trust me, one tab is all you will need. We have found ways of maximizing potency that no one else utilizes.” Damien assured them. “Faster acting too than the normal stuff. You should feel a come up here in about twenty minutes.”
“Jesus… Listen, is there anyway I can take a peak at your setup?” Cynthia asked. Damien’s face turned serious.
“No, there is not, sorry. We have a secret recipe that is closely guarded. Anyway, my group is just about ready to begin. We just have a few preparations that need to be made. I will return shortly.” He said, and he and the chemist proceeded to walk out the door, before he paused just short of the door way, and turned.
“Sharon tells us you’re a virgin. Is that really true?” Damien asks. Cynthia’s eyebrows raise and her mouth hangs open slightly, before she shoots a look at Sharon.
“What the fuck? What does that have to do with anything?” She asked the room. Sharon cleared her throat, her cheeks blushing.
“I’m sorry Cynthia, I know it’s a sensitive subject…It’s just…”
“It’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. We only inquire because…Well, our beliefs dictate that virgins are some of the purest forms of humans available. So rare…These days.” Damien said. Cynthia sighed, shaking her head.
“Yeah, okay, well, technically I am. I’ve liked girls since I was a kid. When I got older and started screwing around, I never let a woman finger me. Penetration…It scares me. So… You know, just clitoral stimulation.”
“I see…So, your hymen, it is intact?” Damien pressed on. Cynthia sighed, throwing her hands up in incredulity.
“Jesus Christ…Yes. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.” Cynthia said. Already she was starting to feel like the gravity in the room was lessening, her hands and feet beginning to tingle.
“Oh goodness. I’m sorry to pry, this is just… so wonderful. I’ll be back shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable.” He said, disappearing. When he left, Cynthia glared at her girlfriend.
“Is there something you’re not telling me Share? I wanna clear the air before this shit kicks in and makes the sex awkward.”
“No… I’m sorry, it’s just, this acid is really good. And when you told me about your plan to flip it all… That’s a lot of money, honey. Especially if we sell to those dumbasses in the fraternities. No more student loan debts.” She said, squeezing Cynthia’s hand. “I just wanted to make sure they accepted our offer, even if I had to cater to their…Peculiar interests.” She said. Then she put her arms around Cynthia, and proceeded to plant a few wet kisses on her neck, before moving on and nibbling her earlobe. Gooseflesh rippled through Cynthia’s coffee colored skin, the rapid onset of the come up making any and all tactile stimulations intense, her extremities extra sensitive.
“You’re right. This is gonna solve all our problems.” Cynthia said, sighing contentedly as she wrapped her arms around Sharon, letting herself be kissed, aroused. They looked into each other’s eyes, Cynthia becoming lost in the deep blue oceans of Sharon’s iris, which shrank as her pupils began to dilate, like a black hole opening up in the sky and devouring everything. “God you’re beautiful.” She said. They kissed, the world around them temporarily forgotten. You’re getting paid to have some mind blowing acid sex in exchange for enough acid to pay your way through five semesters of Washu, quit being so negative girl, she thought as her tongue danced with Sharon’s.
Chapter 2.
By the time Damien returned, Cynthia was almost full blown tripping. Which is why she simply stood there gap mouthed when the ten or so people filed in behind him, all of them naked, including Damien himself. An armada of pale bodies, each one tattooed with the symbol on their chest. They all looked to be Cynthia and Sharon’s age, mid twenties, but she didn’t recognize any of them from the university. Filing in behind them, the last one to enter, was a woman who appeared older than the rest, her body almost completely covered in tattoos. She exerted an air of superiority and seniority. She smiled when she looked upon the two women. To Cynthia she looked strikingly beautiful, her hair an almost golden sheen, her eyes somehow more dazzling and piercing in their shade of blue than the rest. Her breasts were taught and high up despite her age, perhaps mid forties if Cynthia had to guess.
She was so distracted by the woman’s intricate inkwork, that she failed to notice what was between her legs. It was a cock, normal in size and shape save for the fact that something didn’t quite look right about the head. Unlike a normal cock, the head was not a bulbous helmet with a flared rim. It instead tapered off to a thin point, giving it a slightly conical shape. There was no discernable testicular sac either. It seemed there was something else down below that wasn’t testicles.
“You are sure she is pure?” The woman asked Sharon. Sharon nodded vehemently. The woman smiled, and nodded.
“Excellent. You have done very good, Sharon, you may disrobe of your worldly threads and find a partner. You have made sister Sephora proud. After tonight you will be ready to be branded, like the rest of us.”
“Thank you sister Sephora. Thank you so much.” Sharon said, and grabbed Cynthia’s hand, turning to look at her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been totally honest with you, Cynthia. But I do love you, I really do, and we can still be together. If you join us, you won’t regret it. We have so many beautiful things the shepherd can show you.” She said, almost as if in a trance. She had disrobed quickly, taking off her WashU tank top and short shorts revealing the young, supple body, the pale flesh that Cynthia had worshipped every inch of.
Cynthia was only vaguely registering the implication of what was being said to her. She understood her girlfriend had lied to her, but this seemed inconsequential. She kept staring at that cock, at the woman and her artistic canvas of a body. She knew she must have been tripping full on now, because the tattoos appeared to move across her skin.
“Am I…Supposed to fuck you?” Cynthia asked, her eyes unable to peel away from the anatomy between the woman’s legs. Ever since she’d grown older, she’d had a mild fascination with experimenting with penetration. Except she didn’t want to break her hymen with a dildo. Something about that seemed so wrong, depraved. Yet she was not attracted to men, at all, never had been. But this? This could be an interesting loophole. The thought of having this beautiful exotic specimen have full on intercourse with her stirred something deep within her. Longings and urges she’d never had before rippling to th
e surface of her brain.
“Yes. If you want access to our product, to be a part of our group, you must undergo initiation. And god…it has been so long since I’ve been with… A pure one.” She said this last with such a reverent tone that it moved Cynthia to hear her chasteness be spoken in such a positive light. Normally she felt she would freak out in a situation like this, being in a room filled with nude strangers, who were a part of a fucking cult of all things, and being propositioned by people who call themselves brothers and sisters. But the acid was enhancing her mood, a new found euphoria she’d never experienced with LSD before. She didn’t know about joining this group of nut jobs, but she felt very good about having sex with this woman. The thought excited her, caused her loins to tingle with warmth.
“You must want it though. You are not being forced into this. You are free to leave if you do not feel comfortable.” Damien spoke up from behind.
“Yes, your pleasure, the combined forces of our shared orgasm and sexual energy is your payment to us. You must want this, for this session to be of any use to us.” The woman said. Her voice was calming, soft. It was like honey to Cynthia’s ears.
“Oh yes. I want this.” She heard herself saying, and upon her verbal agreement the woman came forward, gentle hands pulling clothes off of her. When she was totally naked, her dark skin standing out in stark contrast against all that alabaster flesh, the woman embraced her, and they kissed. Cynthia almost recoiled when she felt the two swirling appendages caress her tongue. Then she remembered seeing tattoo magazines of people who’d had their tongues split. This struck her as intoxicatingly hot.
