Women Scorned (8 page)

She felt the spirit she hunted, the one who would bring the two worlds together, and grew alert, all of her focus in the spirit’s direction. Rubbing her hands together, swirling her tongue over her lips, she bounced into a crouched position, almost too excited to remain concealed.

“Soon,” she whispered through her grin.

As if materializing from the trees, a bloody and bruised woman with short, black hair appeared. Aludra stared at the spiky-haired girl. Her naked flesh seemed to glow in the early morning light.

“She’s beautiful,” Aludra whispered to herself.
And more so because of the spirit
, she thought. The girl lurched along as if it was difficult to move. “I’ll have you soon enough,” she whispered, waving her finger toward the meandering apparition. “In a few days, you’ll be mine.”

Aludra watched the naked woman walk downhill, waiting until she was a safe enough distance to follow. Just as she was ready to move, however, another girl emerged from the same path, a redhead with some small black animal on a rope.

“Oooh,” she said in a soft, high voice like a child’s sing song. “A new toy.” The girl seemed timid, too alert.
She follows the spirit too
, she thought.
She must be the
other
one the High Priestess told me about… the third.
“This is going to be fun,” she snickered, showing all her teeth with her fingers playing on her chin. “You’ll be mine, too.”

Once the pretty redhead went downhill a bit, Aludra followed, not too concerned with staying close since wherever the spirit went, she could follow. The pull was too strong to lose now. Before she’d been afraid she wouldn’t feel the right connection but now, it seemed everything would turn out well. Time was running short. She needed to capture the spirit, but she desired again to taste the elation she felt while throttling the road-man and cutting the Outside Woman’s neck. She felt a pull to this human, something stronger than the pull to Rory and couldn’t resist the urge to feel death. She followed the redhead while the redhead followed the spirit.

After a while she veered off course, heading towards other pleasures, always checking on her prey with her mind and body, feeling for the wandering spirit. She had to feel again, needed the elation in a way she couldn’t describe or understand. The need for slick blood on her fingertips—blood other than her own—was strong. Her stomach knotted just thinking about never having that again.

In the back of her mind she knew it was undisciplined, knew she’d be sent to the rope room for her detour, but she’d pay that price when she got back to the manor. She knew it would be painful, more torturous than she could bear. But then, maybe the High Priestess wouldn’t find out.

Who was she fooling? She knew they could see all.

As she fought with herself, she continued, blindly pulled to the human flesh. She just wanted to play one more time. And then she’d be good. She would be oh, so good.

*  *  *

The High Priestess paced, confined in the small room. Her long robes brushed the floor, and her hood hid her face. She appeared draped in blood. The room was furnished with nothing more than folded blankets in one corner and a hook on the wall next to the door. Alone, she clicked her fingernails in front of her, hands shaking. Three steps, turn, three steps, turn, three steps… She stopped, sighed, forced her hands down to her sides and straightened her back. He was here. She could feel it.

The door opened behind her and in stepped the High Priest, a looming man recognizable because of his midnight-blue robes. A silver amethyst amulet hung around his neck. The High Priestess turned to face him, pulling her hood back as she did so. He opened his hood in response.

Her facial features were much like his, her white hair as thick and long. Their eyes were the same shape, but the colors differed. Hers were deep gray, flashing like an ocean storm. She glanced away from the High Priest, swallowed, and then looked back after steadying herself. His pupils were like peppercorns in snow and they bored into her.

“You wanted to see me, Father?” She tried not to swallow again but didn’t succeed.

“You harbor doubt in your heart and mind.”

She moved as if to take a step back, but then stilled. “No. I don’t doubt.” Her strong voice rose an octave.

“I hear it in your voice.” His smile revealed pointed, straight teeth, as white as his hair and eyes.

“I am concerned. I don’t doubt.” Aludra wasn’t being drawn to Rory as it had been foretold and Rory wasn’t being drawn to her. The child strayed, distracted by fleshly pleasures. She could feel it. If she continued on this path, all they’d been working toward would be lost.

“Why do you lie? You know what happens with deceit. Concern is the same as doubt. You will go to the rope room when we are through here.”

“But that’s for children…” she whined. She hadn’t been to the rope room since she was a little girl.

“And you are sounding just as petulant. Lying, and now arguing.” He spoke in a calm voice which was somehow worse than if he’d yelled. “I think three turns ought to sufficiently reacquaint you with your lessons. Apparently it’s been too long. I’ve been too lenient.” His white eyes glistened with pleasure in the dim light.

The High Priestess hung her head, hair obscuring her pout.

“Do not sulk or I will make it four turns.”

“Yes, Father,” she said and looked directly at him, hatred burning in her heart as she strained to maintain a calm façade, to keep the anger from showing. Three turns would be bad enough. She couldn’t endure four. Some had died after four.

“Aludra was born for this purpose alone. Aludra will draw the chosen one. How this will happen, the Dark One has not revealed to me, but it is not for us to question. She will draw the spirit here and we will perform the ritual. That is all you need to know. It is not for you to doubt. She has been trained. She knows what she is doing, as do you. Your task is to prepare the altar room, cleanse it, protect it. When the time comes, you will be ready and so will the spirit.”

“Yes, High Priest.” She returned his glare, holding it. The ropes? How could he? After everything she’d been through for him.

“Tonight, you will perform another shielding around the half we have locked away. He grows restless and strong. It is your duty to keep him here…”

“I know this.”

“And keep him weak.”

“Yes.”

“And prepare the other containment room. The female half must not escape. We need the spirit whole.”

“Or all this preparation is for nothing. This I understand, Father.”

“I just want to be sure.” He stepped closer to her and bent down, his nose a mere inch from hers. “Do not doubt Him again. The Dark One watches all.” A hidden light danced in his pupils as he stared. She wanted to squirm under the heated gaze, wanted to shy away knowing the Dark One was there, looking at her behind the High Priest’s eyes, judging. What was he searching for?

“Yes.” She strained not to break her stare. The High Priest’s acrid breath filled her nose, the smell of a thousand deaths, but she held steady.

“Go to the rope room now. You are excused.” He stood straight again and waved her away.

The High Priestess utilized all her strength to prevent herself from slamming the door, worried the Dark One would think her defiant and exact upon her a punishment far worse than the rope room. Pulling her red hood over her head, she concealed her anger and marched down the candlelit hallway. The windowless manor swarmed around her, the shadows in the corners deep, having never been exposed to much light. Wax clumped under the sconces, small black piles on the hardwood floor. The lack of reflective surfaces added to the emptiness. She walked between the luminescent glowing pools, into shadow, out of shadow, past other hooded figures wearing the brown robes of the masochistic slaves, down the stairs, past the large black cross hanging upside down in the entryway. The cross continuously bled into a shallow pool at its base. She continued through a heavy, wooden door, never stopping.

She glided down twisting stairs to a cellar, the dirt floor dusting the hem of her robes and collecting between her toes. Normally at this point she would turn right and go through a large metal door hidden behind the stairs. This door led to the catacombs where the altar room remained hidden among other antechambers. This time, however, she turned slightly to the right and went through an opening in the rock wall, another cave entrance, but one that led away from the catacombs.

She stooped to go through the tiny slit in the wall, an opening so small she had to turn sideways to fit through. Having no room to spare for sconces, the passageway brooded in black but was surprisingly warm. The High Priestess felt her way along the tunnel, back pressed against the rocky surface, thinking about how much easier this had been when she was a child. It was like going through a birth canal in reverse. She came upon a heated area lit with only five candles stationed around a stone slab. The flickering flames revealed several heavy wooden poles. Thick rope wrapped the poles, trailing back to the stone slab in the center.

Without a word, The High Priestess untied her thin rope belt and set her curved dagger on top. She let her garment fall to her feet, pooling around her ankles like so much blood. In the dim light, she stepped naked from her clothing and moved toward the torturous bed. She rubbed old scars on her wrists as she walked. Matching badges of shame adorned her feet and neck. Thick and twisted scars, raised with age, the same width as the ropes around the poles.

Her breasts sagged, but not much considering her years. Her long hair hid a thin, puckered mark over her left breast, the badge she’d been given when she became the High Priest’s bride—the dagger had been run through her heart. She had died, only to live again with the soul of her mother, now her soul, forever. The lower half of her belly rounded out just a bit, just enough to make the small stretch marks noticeable, just enough to show she was once pregnant

The old-woman-turned-child sighed and lay down on the hard surface. She never understood how it could be warm in here but it was. Water dripped from somewhere, a continuous, hypnotic plink-plink-plink. She closed her eyes and listened as two people entered. They came through tiny openings off to either side of the chamber, opposite the entryway. The three openings marked this room as a rough triangle.

She didn’t open her eyes as they tied her hands, wrists and neck. Once fastened, she relaxed and took a deep breath, knowing it would be the last whole breath she’d be able to take for a while. She listened as they positioned themselves behind two large stumps with one pole sticking out from each. One was at the foot, one at the head. The ropes wrapped around the five posts, back to the two poles.

“How many?” the one at her head asked.

“Three.” It never occurred to her to lie. The High Priest would know, and then it would be worse.

They grabbed the wooden levers jutting at right angles from the stumps at her foot and head, and walked in a circle, moving the stumps with them, tightening the ropes. The little bit of slack quickly lessened. One time around. She could still breathe but the pressure was there. The warning, and it continued.

They went around a second time. The five poles rotated with their movement, pulling tighter still. Her hands tingled. She could feel the fibers digging into her flesh. Pressure pushed at her eyes, making them bulge like they might explode, making it difficult to keep them shut. Air whistled through her throat as she sucked in what tiny breaths she could through her constricted windpipe. A vein popped out in her forehead.

The third time around, she couldn’t breathe. Her arms felt like they might rip from the sockets, a tearing heat spreading from her armpits. Her hips ached as they threatened to give way. Her muscles screamed with the effort of holding her body together. She tried to swallow and couldn’t. The skin on her wrists, ankles, and neck ripped and then tore, burning.

The men stepped away from the wheel. A buzzing sound filled her ears. Pain became her world as her tongue swelled in her mouth, jutting between her purple lips.

“You have been sent here to learn a lesson. Do you feel retribution, remorse? Do you now understand?” The man’s voice came from far away, echoing through the ringing in her ears and the sound of her heart. As best as she could, she nodded yes, tears streaming from her eyes. It was the tiniest of movements.

“You will not repeat the same mistake?”

Her head moved slightly back and forth. No. Never. One of her nails snapped off as she clenched her fists. She could feel her heart beating in her hands, her feet, her face. She was going to die. The strain was terrible.

“Then you are released.”

They went back to their posts and repeated the process in reverse. One turn… The breath screamed through her constricted throat as she choked in her release. Two turns, and her hands and feet tingled again as the sensation came back, the pressure abating. Three turns, and the ropes were loose enough to be removed.

When they were off, she sat up, rubbing her wrists, smearing the blood there. She looked into the blind eyes of the rope-men. They looked the same as when she was a child. She wondered again how they knew what her answer was to their questions. They must have known she would obey. They had to know somehow. Probably the same way she knew Aludra was straying from her path.

She gathered her things and left, being reborn through the dark opening, a new woman.

“He was right,” she whispered with a grin as she headed toward the heavy metal doors behind the stairs. “I will never doubt again.” Giggling, she pulled open the door and locked it behind her, ready to prepare the altar room for the inevitable moment.

*  *  *

Sparkling, tiny lights reflected the darkness. The High Priest lit a candle, illuminating a small cavern. This was his private place. He sighed and sat cross legged, back against the warm rock, head in his hands. This echoing chamber was where the dark lord revealed the truth about his religion and the mystery veiled by superstition, lies, all meant to keep anyone from understanding the meaning behind human existence. Images rolled through his mind in a flash, disconnected memories spanning the years he’d been on this earth.