The Cult

by Mink, Jason

  Chloe appeared beneath the archway. Clad in an elegant white silk gown, she drifted into the room like mist, her unshod feet making no sound. At the sight of her Baxter groaned. He tried to turn away but she was beside him, running her slender fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "Hello, Brother. Glad to see you could make it."

  Baxter looked down at the floor. Wordlessly she yanked his head backwards so he had to face her.

  "Now don't be rude. I'm talking to you. Are you glad to see me?"

  Baxter glared up at her and she smiled. With a handful of hair Chloe jerked his head in an up and down motion. "Yes, of course you are! You're one happy boy, aren't you Baxter? Aren't you?" She made him nod some more then viciously pushed his head sideways. His neck cracked, an ugly sound Baxter felt as much as heard. Chloe turned from him, considering her surroundings.

  "Metathias has outdone himself. The dining room looks wonderful."

  She ran her hand along the tablecloth, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle.

  "To look at it now, it hardly seems like seven years have passed, eh, Brother?"

  Baxter only glared, his dry lips curled around the leather bit. Chloe put a hand upon her hip and considered him. "Hmm. I feel like I'm talking to myself. Give me this." She yanked the gag from his mouth, loosening a tooth or two in the process. "Talk to me, Brother. Tell me one of your wonderful stories." She looked at him expectantly. Baxter tried to conjure something obnoxious or hurtful to say, but nothing came. This was odd because he could always think of something obnoxious and hurtful to say to Chloe. He searched deep within himself, once again found something missing. Unable to reply he could only grimace.

  "Enough, Sister. It's not nice to tease." Ashton strode into the room, Adam in tow. The bigger man carried an unconscious Erica in his arms. He walked over to the table, dropped her gracelessly into the chair beside Baxter. As Adam leaned forward Baxter noted a wicked lump forming on the right side of his forehead and hoped Erica had been the one to give it to him. Meanwhile, Ashton prepared himself a drink at the sidebar. "Can I get you anything, Baxter?"

  "Yeah. Get me out."

  Ashton chuckled. "It's good to see some things can't be taken from you. Don't worry, I'll let you up in a bit, after the other players are here. Hell, I'm not going to be the one who has to feed you." He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down at the head of the table.

  Baxter noted Erica wore a similar dress to Chloe's but it was somewhat askew on her, the silk wrinkled and bunched up around her shoulders. She was still unconscious, her head lolling to one side. "What did you do to her?" Baxter asked, for a moment forgetting his own discomfort.

  Ashton shrugged. "Nothing, really. She was feeling poorly; I… gave her a hand."

  Adam laughed at this.

  "You. Go get dressed." Chastened, Adam did as Ashton ordered, slinking through the archway.

  Annie passed him on the way and seemed shocked at the sight before her. "Baxter? What's happening?"

  Baxter nodded towards Ashton grimly. "Ask Brother Nacht. It's his party, after all."

  Annie turned to Ashton. "What's going on? Why is Baxter tied up? Why is Erica unconscious?"

  Ashton sighed. "All in due time, Io. Please, sit down."

  But Annie was clearly reticent. Baxter couldn't exactly blame her. He watched as she began to inch back towards the archway.

  "Annie…" Ashton began, exasperated. It was then Annie turned and ran, gaining exactly three feet before being stopped by Metathias. She shrieked as the old man grabbed her. Watching this, Ashton sighed, held his head in one hand. Baxter chuckled in spite of his misery, glad to see their captor get a little shit kicked onto his shoes for once. His mirth changed to anger as Ashton rose and cracked Annie hard across the face. Surprisingly brutal, the act had its desired effect. Annie stopped screaming, was led passively to her chair at the table. She sat, eyes down, hands trembling upon the tablecloth.

  "Sorry, Sister," Ashton said, leaning in close to her. He spoke as if to a child. "You know I abhor violence and disharmony. However, we need to behave ourselves right now. This is an honored feast, after all. And besides," he added blackly, "there will be plenty of time for screaming later."

  Erica stirred just then, eyes fluttering open. She looked around uncomprehendingly.

  "Erica? Hey. You all right?"

  She squinted at Baxter, rubbed her eyes.

  "Huh?"

  Baxter furrowed his brow. Whatever Ashton had done had left Erica dulled and unresponsive. She seemed drugged. Chloe watched her with scorn from the other side of the table, icy hatred flashing in her eyes. This was going to be some dinner. Time dragged agonizingly on, as the group waited for Adam and Zak to appear. In time Metathias brought forth a large pitcher of ice water, pouring a glass for each place setting. Baxter realized he was parched; sadly, his ability to drink was hampered by his bonds. "Uh, Ashton? I'm pretty thirsty. Any chance you might free one of my hands?"

  Ashton looked thoughtfully his way. "Hmm. No, I don't think so. Time and again you've proven to be untrustworthy, Brother Helios. I can't have you betraying us now, at this critical juncture. Besides, I can't bear to see you scratching at yourself like a flea-bitten dog."

  Baxter sagged in his chair, defeated. Just then Erica brought the glass to his lips. Grateful, he took little sips from the rim, careful not to choke on the icy water. Ashton nodded.

  "How touching. Now that's what I like to see. Co-operation. Let's have a little more of it in the next few hours and things will go much smoother." He finished his drink and rose to his feet. "If you'll excuse me I'm going to see what's keeping Zak."

  As he left Adam returned. The suit he wore was odd, ill-fitting upon his large frame. His wrists extended two inches past the jacket's cuffs; the stripes on his white athletic socks showed when he walked. He had attempted to comb what little hair he had left over the angry lump on his noggin, but there was no hiding it. He dropped into the chair opposite of Chloe, at Ashton's end of the table and glared down at Erica.

  Chloe was watching Baxter. Clinking the ice cubes in her glass to catch his attention she blew the steam from the rim his way, what passed for a smile twisting on her lips. Baxter paid her no mind, shifting in his chair. He no longer resisted just one itch, but thousands, and he knew each one intimately. All he wanted was to dig his fingers in, to dig and dig and dig...

  "So whatever happened to that stimulating conversation of old?" Chloe asked, swirling her water in her glass. "Say something interesting, Bax."

  "Eat shit."

  Erica burst into laughter and Baxter felt relief flood through him. If she could still laugh that meant she hadn't cracked. She was still okay. Chloe was not as amused, however. She flicked her hand forward, sending the contents of her glass into Baxter's face. Her assault had caught him off-guard. Inhaling just as the icy water struck him, Baxter inadvertently drew it into his throat and lungs, causing him to gag and retch violently.

  "Ah, now there's the witty and urbane Baxter Knowles that I know," Chloe said breezily as Baxter struggled in his chair. Erica reached forward, clapping him hard on the back. Baxter expelled a gout of clear mucus and water from his mouth and nostrils, all down the front of his gown.

  "Nice work, Sister. Now we have to look at that while we eat," Adam said, irritated.

  "Shut up, Fenris. Seven years of you is seven too much."

  "Enough!" Annie suddenly shouted, banging a small balled fist upon the tabletop. "Enough of this! Stop fighting!"

  Before anyone might respond to this a new voice spoke. "Annie is right." All eyes turned to the archway. It was Zak. "We have to stop fighting. We have to accept who it is we are." He entered the room with a slow, even stride, his head high, his eyes bright.

  Annie gasped. "You're walking."

  Zak stood beside Baxter. "Yes. It's a gift. Paq'q's gift. I've been… restored. Aside from its other remarkable attributes, Paq'qa has considerable regenerative qualities." He wiped his friend's face dry with

  a la
ce napkin. "It's time, Bax. Time to give up."

  FIFTEEN

  THEN

  The vision occurred just before three p.m. It arrived without warning or invitation, striking the seven of them simultaneously. Reaction was immediate, with Ashton running from room to room to herd the group together, quickly gathering them all in the study. Frightened, confused, exhilarated, each in turn attempted to describe their experience, but lacked the words or concepts necessary to convey what had been revealed to them. Annie was especially wrought, unable to speak above a broken whisper.

  "Sacred dark… impossibly lost. He is Nomad. The seas boil when they speak His name."

  Erica looked at Annie with concern. She reached out for the trembling woman's hand but Annie jerked away, her eyes wide.

  "The thousand and one steps! The heart of the Sleeper is eaten from the inside out! I can't be your bridge… what He asks is impossible! He wants it all, don't you see? There is no satiation, no way to assuage Him. I can't…I…" Annie's mouth twisted shut, her voice lost inside her disordered mind.

  Baxter looked at her grimly, unsure of what to do. She was slowly going to pieces before their eyes, that much was undeniable. After all Shea had told him, Baxter knew Annie was in great danger, but he felt powerless to do anything about it. It wasn't as if he could take her to a hospital; three words out of her mouth and any sane doctor would lock her up in a heartbeat. She was clearly in the midst of a breakdown, her mind unhinged by all she had seen. Baxter could only watch from across the room as Annie rocked back and forth, arms wrapped around her legs, her face buried beneath greasy, ragged hair.

  "It was fucking amazing!" Adam practically shouted. "Like Valhalla or something. Fucking castles in the sky! There were chariots drawn by winged horses, Gods battling in the clouds…"

  Chloe began to laugh.

  "What?" Adam asked, indignantly. "It's what I saw!"

  "Okay, I believe you. Perhaps you were given a… different vision than ours."

  "Enough, Sister," Ashton snapped. "What did you see?"

  Chloe thought carefully for a moment. "Well, I did see a castle. More of a palace, really. Paq'q's palace. It was vast, ancient. Seemed to go on for forever. But it was all frozen over. The tapestries, the feasting table, the empty throne, everything was covered in frost. He was not there, had never been, but…" Trailing off, her words fell softly, brought a chill to the stuffy room.

  "The voice. Did anyone hear the voice?"

  Attention shifted to Zak, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

  "I was working in the study - then I was somewhere else. Not a different place, really, as much as occupying a different space within the room. Within myself? It's hard to explain. It wasn't like I saw a castle or winged faeries or any of that shit. It was like watching the clouds or something, shifting images. Faces, moving pictures in the air around me. And there was a voice. I couldn't make out what it was saying but it was speaking, shouting as if to be heard from far off. It shaped the images before me, showed me… God. I just don't have the words to explain it."

  Erica was nodding in assent. "Something spoke to me, as well. Not with one voice but dozens. It kept changing, one moment young and musical, the next ancient, horrible. I felt like…it seemed as if it were telling me secrets, or that maybe I was just overhearing them. What they were now I couldn't possibly say. It's like dream to me: what made sense at the time is now just babble. But one thing my vision had in common with Zak's: at the end, right before I snapped out of it I heard three words...”

  “He is coming.” Ashton spoke before Erica could, his voice warm and even. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded into a steeple. There was a smile upon his face. "In my vision an emissary came to me. He spoke of our great work in Paq'q's service, that even greater rewards lay ahead. Once again the way is lain; at last the stars are right. Paq'q's reign shall begin here, with the seven of us. In my vision I was given… permission to perform a ritual that will channel our strength, will make our circle powerful. We must perform this ritual tonight, while His presence still lingers."

  Erica looked at Ashton, who noted her questioning nod towards Annie.

  "We must learn to support each other. There is no question that what we do here is perilous; we must be able to depend on our brothers and sisters, now more so than ever. No more petty rivalries; no more bitterness about the past. From this moment forward we must move on, be strong enough to shoulder the burden. We will eat well tonight, prepare ourselves for the task that lies ahead." Some in the circle looked unconvinced. "It'll be great," he added reassuringly. With that he rose, as did Chloe. Without another word they departed, leaving the other five behind. For long moments no one spoke.

  Adam seemed to be the most uncomfortable, unable to remain for long among them. He stood up. "See you tonight, Brothers and Sisters," he said lamely, leaving with an odd backward glance at Zak. Baxter did not notice. He sat down on the arm of Annie's chair. Tentatively he reached for her shoulder. To his surprise Annie leaned forward, reached to embrace him. For a moment Baxter felt apprehension but it was replaced by shame; Ashton was right about one thing. They did need to be there for one another. He took her in his arms, held her as she cried. Embarrassed by the intimacy of the situation Erica and Zak slipped out of the room, left the two alone in the lengthening shadow of afternoon.

  ~*~

  After a sumptuous meal they gathered again in the study. While Ashton had done his best to keep the mood light, the air was heavy with expectation. The intensity of their earlier visions had not faded, instead coming into greater focus with the passing of time. It was clear that all were preoccupied with what had happened, or what was about to. Conversation over drinks was minimal, unusually restrained as they waited for the main event to begin. Zak had one of his projects playing, old lounge music he'd manipulated into something else entirely. Most of the instruments were filtered out or mixed beyond recognition; what remained was reordered by a computer program as random pockets of sound, each one wondrous and unique. Bounced from one speaker to another it was a remarkable effect, clusters of notes springing out of the silence, building up and falling down into the ruins of forgotten melody.

  "What the hell is this?" Adam asked, clearly irritated.

  Zachary shrugged. "Hard to say at this point. Judging from the bird-calls I'd guess Martin Denny."

  Adam shook his head but said nothing, making sure everyone noticed he was on his best behavior. No one paid him any attention. Chloe sat reading, one slender leg draped over the other. The creamy white of her calf was striking against the antique crimson fabric of the chair, enticing in a predatory sort of way. Ashton was seated in the chair opposite of Chloe, his mouth bound in a tight smile. He was trying to appear relaxed, but his body language betrayed him. Arms folded, legs crossed, he was clearly waiting for a sign only he might hear. Conversely, Erica merely looked tired, her chin resting on a propped-up arm. She periodically glanced over at Annie, a look of concern on her face. It was a feeling Baxter shared.

  Frightened and trembling one moment, eyes burning with a kind of dogmatic fervor the next, Annie was all over the map. She was still unaware of the dramatic transformation that occurred in conjunction with her consumption of the Paq'qa. She had no way of knowing, and no one seemed willing to tell her. Baxter had tried, but the words would not come; how could he possibly explain such a bizarre and inexplicable process, when he himself did not understand it? There were no easy answers, though once again they had gathered to seek them.

  Ashton broke the silence. "Brother Pan, I think a sociable smoke is in order. Do you have anything that you'd wish to share?"

  Zak looked up and nodded. He removed a small velvet pouch from its place on his belt and tugged the draw-string open. From within he withdrew a thick, tightly-rolled joint. He offered it to Ashton, who fired it up with a smile. Inhaling deeply he offered the joint to Chloe, who looked at it with distaste. There was a moment of unspoken communication between th
e two, the end result being Chloe's sulky consent. Drawing from it with a wince she passed it on to Adam, who looked as if he'd been asked to re-inflate a flattened rat from the round end. With a sigh he did what he was expected to.

  "What a fucking martyr," Baxter thought, shaking his head. So much for the spirit of brotherhood. Once again it struck him what an unlikely group they were, held together only by this shared experience. What had happened to the previous circle, he wondered? Why had they failed? More questions for Shea. He had so many still to ask; Baxter only hoped he'd be around to ask them. The joint came his way and he hit it gladly. He needed something to help him relax. They all did and Ashton knew it. The man was no pot-head, but he understood the value of the group doing something like this together. The bastard was savvy, Baxter had to give him that.

  By now the sounds coming from the speakers had evolved. Test-pattern tones shone with subtle color, notes stretching backward, falling forward, spilling out in a shimmering flood of crystalline sound. It defied rhythm, was everything that music wasn't in a gently chaotic sort of way. The effect was entrancing, brought them to a place sublime and charged with potential.

  "It is time." Ashton rose and the others followed, rising and filing out the door behind him. Only Zak stayed behind, to change the music. Wordlessly the group made its way to the candle-lit drawing room. From the hallway they noted the change. In the hours they'd been away the space had been transformed. The room was filled with hundreds of the small circular ruby-glass candle-holders; placed by the dozen on every available space they lent the room a mysterious and sacred light. Most of the furniture had been removed, leaving the center of the room empty. The rug had been rolled back, revealing a large and remarkably intricate double circle carved into the dark wood of the floor-boards. Baxter felt as though he were gazing upon something forbidden, some long-hidden thing repressed by Nature itself. Though he did not understand the symbology or characters which adorned the circle, Baxter nonetheless recognized their power.