The Cult

by Mink, Jason

  "That's enough," Adam said. He guided her down to the bed, pressed her legs apart with his and attempted to mount her.

  "Hey, hey, wait a minute. Don't you have a condom or something?"

  Adam stared down at her. "Don't worry. I'll pull out." He tried to enter her but Annie once again resisted.

  "That doesn't mean anything. I want you to wear a rubber."

  Grumbling, Adam rose to his feet. He opened his top dresser drawer and plucked something out of its recesses. "Put it on me," he said, pressing the foil packet into her hand.

  Regretfully Annie ripped it open and rolled the condom down his shaft. The experience was quickly loosing its luster as far as she was concerned. She found herself wishing she'd made another choice, had not been so eager to give herself away. But it was too late. Adam's lips were smeared against hers, in a moment had her legs spread and in the air. She felt a sharp pain as he entered her, her hymen tearing beneath his first thrust.

  "OW! Go slow, you ass!"

  "Shut up," Adam said, pinning her wrists. He forced himself deeper. The pain was immense; Annie cried out, felt as if she were being cracked in two. Adam paid her no mind. He began to pump, lasting half a minute before abruptly stopping. Eyes crossed, he buckled upon her and she shoved him off, numb. What had she done? The question flashed in her mind over and over, as she got to her feet and ran from the room.

  "What the..? Is this blood?"

  His words followed her down the hall, through the manor, into the brutal days to come.

  NOW

  "Aw, no. Not you, Zak." Baxter looked at his friend sadly, not wanting to believe the truth. Zachary Andello stood before him, transformed by the power of the Paq'qa. He had been healed, restored to the man he once was. His sunken frame had filled out, grown sturdy over a matter of hours. His formerly wasted legs were now firm, thick with new muscle. Even his face, which had grown lean and hollow over the course of his disease was now full, unlined by pain or time. Only his hair remained as it once was, a snow-white fan falling halfway down the back of his antique black tuxedo jacket.

  Baxter wanted to tell Zak he looked great. Instead he said: "You damn fool! What have you done?" Baxter would have punched him, were his hands free. As it was all he could do to struggle against the bonds, his rage a welcome distraction from the maddening itch.

  "What's happened to him?" Zak asked, turning to Ashton. "Why is he strapped to the chair like that?"

  A sad smile passed across Ashton's face. "Brother Helios has proven himself unworthy. He has thwarted this operation at every opportunity, has caused much dissent among the Circle. This could not be allowed to continue."

  "But what happened to him?" Erica demanded, anger bringing focus to her clouded mind. "He has some sort of horrible skin infection. He's torn himself to shreds!"

  Zak grew grim at this. For a moment he simply stood at the edge of the table saying nothing; then, abruptly, he ripped the front of Baxter's gown open. “My God!"

  The angry rash had spread up Baxter's lower torso, stopping just below the breastbone. The flesh was waxen, stretched taut as drum-skin across his ribs, drawn so tight it was clearly painful for Baxter to breathe.

  "Looks like you got the better deal, eh, Zak?" Even speaking had become difficult, with Baxter spitting his words through clenched teeth. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead; the pores themselves had grown red, sore, staying swollen open in an altogether unwholesome way.

  Zak turned from his friend. "Damn it Ashton, what's wrong with him?"

  Ashton shook his head. "Please don't call me that." He walked over to the liquor cabinet and made himself a drink. "As I said, Brother Helios has proven himself untrustworthy. But he is still needed; at least, a part of him still is."

  He nodded to Chloe. Now it was her turn to smile. She reached into her ample cleavage, withdrew what had hung hidden at the end of a length of silken cord. The object didn't glow so much as burn, a cool white fire that pulsed through the ornately-carved crystal vessel. The glowing substance followed an intricate circuit, suggestive of Celtic knot work. All in the room were drawn to it, entranced by the talisman that swung before them.

  "What is it?" Annie asked, trembling.

  Chloe laughed. "It's Baxter, darling; all the best he had to offer."

  She held the vessel high, so even Baxter might see. But Baxter would not look. Mouth set, eyes staring straight ahead, he continued to strain against his bonds, putting long, slow pressure against the leather bands.

  "Look at him, still fighting. Still resisting, after losing the only thing that made him a man. Give it up, Brother!" There was gloating in Chloe's voice, but also something else. Was it... fear?

  Zak's mind raced. If what she said was true then there was nothing left to fear about Baxter. How could he still be a threat to them? Was there some way to restore him? Ashton broke his train of thought.

  "During my long convalescence I had ample opportunity to study Master Iris' notes. It would amaze you to discover how much information he had amassed in one lifetime. Sadly most of it lacks practical applications, but occasionally I stumble across something useful. Like the ritual used to steal Brother Helios's vital force. It is contained in the artifact you see before you and is quite safe. Helios, on the other hand, well… that is up to him."

  Chloe returned the vessel to its place between her breasts.

  "Baxter can either co-operate with us and have his essence restored or he can be left to die, with what we need of him safely in our hands. It is his choice." Ashton sat heavily in the chair beside Baxter. "I don't want it to be this way. We're supposed to be brothers and sisters in this sacred trust. It's the only reason why any of this works in the first place. But I could not allow Paq'q's coming to be further endangered."

  "What you've taken from Baxter - give it back," Erica said, rising. "Make him the way he used to be. If you don't, I won't co-operate."

  "Neither will I," Annie said, pushing her chair back away from the table.

  Ashton looked crestfallen. "Please. Don't do this. It doesn't have to end this way."

  Annie glanced at Erica, unsure. Erica, however, remained resolved. "You're crazy, Ashton. Absolute, one hundred percent, bat-shit crazy. Up until now we've gone along with everything you've ever asked of us. We gave you the benefit of the doubt every time. We trusted you when you said that what we did here was ultimately going to make the world a better place, that you'd never let any of us come to harm. Now look. Look at what you've done to your Sacred Circle."

  And he did. He looked at Chloe, who smoldered with a kind of malign joy, gloating over her stolen power. He looked at Adam, once the picture of health, now beaten, battered, diminished by the massive demands placed upon him over the years. Then there was Annie, unrecognizable as the sweet and delicate creature she once had been, her dark eyes flat and dull from all she had seen. Zak stood beside her, suddenly unwilling to meet Ashton's gaze; he was clearly deep in thought. Erica, on the other hand, continued to search his eyes, hoping to connect with something long gone. "Ashton, please…" she began.

  "I told you not to call me that!" Before anyone could react, Ashton seized the edge of the liquor cabinet; with a sudden heave the massive oaken object was in the air, flying sideways along the dining room wall. It landed with an ear-splitting crash, wood, liquor and shattered glass suddenly everywhere. "METATHIAS!" Ashton bellowed, his cry echoing through the manor. The old man must have been standing close by, for he appeared in short order. In his arms he carried the unconscious form of a little girl who was the spitting image of her mother.

  "Sandy!" Annie leapt from her chair. She ran for her child but Ashton was behind her. Grabbing Annie by the hair he swung her sideways, slamming her hard against the wall. She bounced and went down, but in a moment was on her feet again. With amazing swiftness she sprinted past Ashton, slipping past his grasping hands.

  "Stop her!" he shouted.

  Zak did not, only stepping aside to let Annie through. Eager for conf
rontation, Chloe dove forward; in a totally unexpected move Annie stiff-armed her like a professional linebacker, sending the taller woman sprawling. Bounding over her prone form Annie rounded the table, scooping up a pearl-handled carving-knife with her left hand. Adam, who had stepped into her path, suddenly hesitated, his eyes on the gleaming steel.

  "MOVE!" Annie demanded. She swung the blade in a wide arc and Adam stepped backwards, out of her range. With a growl Annie dove at Metathias, blade lunging; for the first time in memory an expression flashed across the ancient manservant's face. He stared in mute surprise at the steak-knife he had polished only hours before, now jutting out of his sternum. His attention diverted, Annie plucked Sandy from his arms and ran for the door.

  A single shot brought her down, dropping her and her child to the floor with a brutal thud. The small bullet had grazed her upper right thigh, just below the buttock. On top of everything else Ashton was clearly a crack shot. He leveled the .22 at Erica, who was already moving to help her friend.

  "Sit. Down."

  Resentfully she did as she was told, sitting in a chair at the end of the table. Ashton brushed past Adam and Chloe, and stood directly over Annie's struggling form. He placed the barrel of the .22 to her temple. "Sister Io… I'm sorry."

  With his thumb he cocked the gun's hammer.

  "NO!" Erica cried, fingers gripping the arms of her chair.

  Ashton whirled to face her. "NO? NO?! Why not, Astra? Why? Tell me WHY!"

  He slammed his fist down on the dining room table, making the crystal sing.

  "Annie. Baxter. Both are expendable now. I have what I need of them."

  Erica stood. "But not of me. You still can't do it without me. Let them live and I'll cooperate."

  Ashton's eyes widened. "You are not in a position to bargain!" He advanced on her and Erica did something she had never done in her life; she fell to her knees and begged.

  "Brother Nacht, please. Let them live and I promise we will all cooperate. Please." She wrapped her hands around his, lowered her head in supplication.

  "Erica, no…," Zak whispered, trembling. For a moment Ashton looked uncertain, his anger competing with the realization he now had what he wanted.

  "Please."

  Ashton pulled his hand from hers. Placing the gun upon the table he helped Erica to her feet.

  "I accept your petition, Sister. They may live, if they serve me as you say."

  He looked at Annie, who held her bloodied leg with one hand and her unconscious child in the other.

  "Go to hell, you son of a bitch! What did you do to my baby?"

  Ashton approached her and she scooted backwards into the corner. "Sorer Io. She is only sleeping…"

  "Sleeping, my ass! She's out cold!"

  "A mild sedative, nothing more. I promise. I was forced to bring Sandy here. I needed your cooperation. It was never my intention to harm her but, know this: I could have, at any time, and there is nothing you could have done about it." He let this sink in, then continued. "Join us at the table. Re-join the Circle. All of this will be over before you know it."

  Knowing that it was pointless to resist, Annie nodded twice. "Wake her up for me. I want to see her, be sure she's okay."

  "But of course," Ashton said, suddenly genial. "Metathias?" He turned to his manservant.

  The old man seemed to be in shock, the carving-knife jutting from his sternum. His face still wore the same stunned expression.

  "Oh, for..." Ashton looked back at Annie. "Please don't stab the help." Ashton stepped forward and grasped the hilt of the knife in both hands. With a sharp tug he pulled it free. There was no blood, the blade leaving only a small vertical slit in Metathias' otherwise-immaculate shirt. The old man coughed, the sound of newspaper being rolled into a ball. He looked up at Ashton, his face once again blank.

  "Wake the child."

  Metathias nodded. Reaching into an inner jacket pocket he removed a long silver syringe.

  "Oh, wait! Wait! Keep that away from her!" Annie said, shielding Sandy protectively. "Just stay away from her! Leave her be."

  Ashton nodded. "That's fine, Sister. Just fine. She'll wake up on her own in no time. Don't worry." He considered her. "But your wound will need tended to, I'm afraid. It shouldn't be too bad; I only wanted to… slow you down.” He turned and clapped his hands three times. "Dinner will be postponed for twenty minutes while everyone freshens up. Brother Fenris, take the child…"

  "No. Not him," Annie said firmly. "Zachary."

  Ashton considered this, then nodded. "Good enough. Brother Pan, please take Miss Sandy to the couch in the other room. This way she will be close by, but far enough away not to be bothered by our revelry."

  Zak looked unsure but complied, stooping to pick up the child. As he did Annie grasped his arm.

  "Protect her," she said simply. Ashton helped her to her feet and the two of them limped off, Metathias in tow. Zak followed them through the archway, the girl light in his renewed arms. He wondered again at the choice he had made, at the man he'd become.

  ~*~

  The group re-assembled twenty minutes later. Ashton guided a limping Annie to her place at the table. She was wide-eyed, still shaken from her earlier experience: Ashton, however, was once again cool and composed. He sat down with a smile.

  "Hello, all. Sorry to keep you waiting."

  Erica tried to smile. She was committed now; they all were. All except…

  "Baxter."

  Baxter did not respond. He'd gone slack against his bonds, leaning back in his chair. To Ashton's amazement he noted the leather straps had loosened somewhat. Not nearly enough to allow his guest to escape, but certainly more than he'd thought possible. He found himself once again impressed with the man who had been such a thorn in his side.

  "Brother Fenris. Free Brother Helios."

  Adam nearly choked on his wine. "Free him? Why?"

  Ashton's eyes narrowed. "I will ask you again, Fenris, in the event I was unclear in my wishes. Please release Brother Helios from his bonds."

  Adam shook his head in amazement, but nonetheless complied.

  "I do this as a gesture of my faith in all of you, you who willingly return to the Sacred Circle. I do this out of respect for the man Helios once was, and who he might be once again."

  Adam undid the lower straps first, releasing Baxter's legs. The leather bands had dug cruelly into his bare flesh, leaving ugly, raw abrasions upon his ankles. Next, Adam released the buckle holding the strap around Baxter's waist, freeing his upper arms. Releasing his upper arms Baxter sagged forward, falling against Adam like a drunken derelict. Shoving him back, Adam freed Baxter's wrists and walked away from the seated man with disgust. Ashton stepped forward then. Cupping Baxter's chin he lifted his head that their eyes might meet.

  "Baxter, how do you feel?"

  Baxter stared into the other man's eyes blearily. "Huh? Ashton?" He looked around the room, a confused expression on his face.

  "Yes, Baxter. How do you feel?"

  "Not so good, man."

  Ashton nodded. "You'll feel better after you eat. Then we can talk about getting you… back up to speed, if you will. I want you with us, need you to be at your best. Paq'q demands it."

  Ashton walked back to his seat at the opposite end of the table. In a moment Metathias was at his side, pouring his master a fresh glass of wine. It appeared the old man took his brutal stabbing in stride, going about his tasks with his usual degree of aplomb. What kind of man was he, that he could be stabbed and not die, not even bleed with six inches of steel plunged into his chest? There had never been any reason to suspect the manservant to be anything other than a man. Now it was clear he was... more.

  Only minutes before, he had tended Annie's wound; she had been nervous about letting him so near to her but, in the end, he'd treated her as he always had, showing a remarkable degree of emotional detachment in the face of bandaging his attacker. He poured her glass of wine with no discernible malice. To Annie this was somehow
far worse than anger, his placid sense of servitude unchanged even in the face of personal violence. She glanced at Baxter. He was already scratching at himself, his face unreadable as his fingers worked. In spite of her pity for him it was rather unpleasant to watch and Annie looked away. Ashton rose, proposing a toast.

  "Tonight we embrace our destiny. Tonight we make good on the promise made to all men and women, that true freedom lies in belief in Him. We, His avatars, have readied the way, lain the path along with those who came before us. At last all points shall be drawn together, an eternity of waiting finally come to an end…" Ashton stopped, head cocked to one side.

  For a moment no one knew what he was doing, then they all heard it, damnably-familiar music swirling quietly up about them.

  "He is with us."

  There was a edge to Ashton's words, a sense of anxiety his voice betrayed. The phantom music still clearly unnerved him, a very odd thing considering all that had occurred. Rising, falling, impossibly far off to be heard so clearly, it seemed to be sowing seeds, scattering its notes by the handful across fertile minds. Erica found it leading her, making her think thoughts not her own, insane ideas blooming in impossible hues. She did her best to block it out, but it seemed to have its hooks in her now, holding her attention in spite of herself. "So if the ritual you gave us the other day was fake…" she began.

  Ashton waved a hand dismissively. "Please, Sister. All in good time. First we feast."

  On cue the first course appeared, wheeled in by the manor's only other remaining servant. Her gaze was loathsome, the caress of a dead thing dragged across each of them in turn. Slowly she shuffled over to the table. The serving-cart doubled as a walker, the bloated old woman holding on to its brass handle with one hand while ladling out soup with the other.

  "Thank you, Estelle," Ashton said, smiling up at her. She nodded wordlessly, moving on. After an agonizing ten minutes she completed her circuit around the table; once all had been served she shuffled off, returning to whatever dark recess she'd emerged from. The group ate in silence.