The Cult

by Mink, Jason

  To Annie's surprise the soup was not putrid, as all of her other food had been. Obviously it was take-out. She sipped the spicy broth, savoring it after days of going hungry. Hopefully there would be enough to feed Sandy, once she woke.

  "How is your food, Brother Pan?" Ashton asked, breaking a crust of bread in two. Zak shrugged.

  "It's good. It's soup." He was clearly deep in thought, his face a mask.

  Erica had been watching him carefully, unsure of what to make of his recent transformation. He had been healed; of that there could be no doubt. But how? By the Paq'qa, as he had claimed, or by something else? And why? Benevolence had never been one of Paq'q's great attributes. People had a way of being used up in His presence, not restored. If He was now in a position of handing out favors it was clear His power had grown significantly in their time away from the manor. No doubt much was expected in exchange for this boon. Zak obviously realized this as well, hence his heavy introspection.

  "Brother Helios?"

  Baxter looked up. He'd been staring into his bowl, spoon stalled in his hand.

  "Huh?"

  Chloe laughed, a merciless sound that was repellent to the ear. "Your soup, Brother. Eat up."

  Baxter looked at her, at the spoon in his hand. Mechanically he began to eat, now little more than an automaton. He ate and scratched, eyes downward, head swaying slowly from side to side.

  "Ugh. Do we have to eat with this guy?" Adam asked, glaring at Baxter with disgust.

  Ashton paused, spoon in mid-air. "Please, Fenris. Show a little restraint at the table. This is, after all, a special occasion."

  By now the music had grown in both volume and power. It nosed about them like a dog after scraps, seeming to circle the table in its bid to get someone's attention. The sense of presence swelled, thickening the air and dimming the candles.

  "One thing I've never understood," Zak began slowly. "If He is still on the other side then what's with all this? The music, the blood-sucking invisible vortexes, all of it. How can Paq'q be both here and there? And if He's here already, then why do we need to perform this ritual in the first place?"

  Ashton set down his spoon. "A fine question, Brother. I once asked it myself. It was explained to me in a vision. But how best to put it into words? Imagine someone slamming your foot in a door. You'd be stuck, but the other person would be stuck, too. They'd have to actively keep pressure on the door from their side to keep you from getting in, but in doing so they also keep you from leaving. A conundrum to be sure. We caught Paq'q's foot in the door, so to speak; now He is trapped between the spaces, bound here by the very spell we wove to cast him out. When this happened, an infinitesimal fraction of His essence was left on our side, stranded here without being completely severed. Unable to survive on its own this fraction separated, splitting into seven equal parts. It is these parts you now return to the Circle, having protected and nurtured them for seven long years."

  Erica grew pale. "You mean this… this thing has been piggy-backing on me for seven goddamn years?"

  "Well, in so many words, yes. These phenomena we experience - the music, the vortex, the visions - all come from Him."

  Erica's once-pale skin was quickly growing flush. "Oh, yeah? Well, what about runs of really bad luck? What about sudden addiction, blinding poverty, debilitating illness? I'm looking around this room and it's suddenly becoming very clear to me why seven perfectly healthy, intelligent young men and women all ended up damaged beyond belief."

  Ashton looked stunned by this. "Sister, you can't possibly believe…"

  "Oh, but I do, Brother. Look at these people! Look at the lives you destroyed, playing paddy-cake with your great God. Every one of us has lived under a shadow since the day we left here and now we know why. It's His shadow, grown fat on who we were, what we might have been. Can you see what's been stolen from us? Are you really so blind?"

  Ashton set his soup down, a grave look upon his face. "No. No, I am not blind. I see Zachary. I see a man just as he once was, better perhaps. The disease which robbed him of his ability to walk has been cured by one dose of the Paq'qa. One dose. That hardly seems like a coincidence. Perhaps if you'd stayed here, as you were meant to, none of your problems would have happened."

  Erica was bristling now, her cheeks an angry red. "So you're saying this has all been punishment for ditching you and your little club-house? Our lives went to shit because we didn't stick around to play? You sick, sadistic son of a bitch!"

  The music rang loudly about them, falling in and out of rhythm with the conversation.

  Zak abruptly stood up. "Stop it! Both of you! I'm not going to sit here and listen to this; I no longer have to. Ashton, you've gotta realize that not everyone is going to like the idea of some... psychic leech attached to them for seven years. We all decided that summer this needed to end; we did what we thought we had to do be free of it. I've hated every second of that music since, but I refuse to blame the bad choices I've made in my life on it. Erica, we all have free will. We can't pass the buck, as tempting as it might be. I've accepted responsibility for the things I've done; I've learned to live with them. I'm pretty sure you have, too. It's already reconciled. Don't bring it back to life now."

  But Erica would not be convinced. "How can you say that? Because they fixed you up good as new? Look at Annie, at Adam. Look at Baxter. Is Paq'q going to fix them up, too? At what price? For what price will He undo the damage He caused in the first place? Complicity, that's the price!"

  Ashton nodded. "Yes. That is the price you agreed to, only minutes ago. You begged and by His good graces I honored your request. Now you would do this?"

  Erica bit her bottom lip. "I only wanted to help my friends…"

  Ashton sneered. "But you cannot help your friends."

  Erica gritted her teeth, glanced at Baxter, who nodded. wordlessly "Actually - yes I can."

  She tossed the small velvet bag high into the air. Before anyone might react Baxter was up on the long table and running. He snatched the bag on its downward arc, jerking it open with the tug of the string. Barreling through the spinning soup-bowls, Ashton could only watch, mouth agape, as Baxter came charging towards him. In the moment before he threw his hands up to protect himself Ashton could have sworn he could see Baxter's lips moving, though he did not seem to be speaking English. With desperate grace Baxter threw his hands into the air and leapt into a cloud of white powder. There was a rubbery yelp of reality bending and nothing more.

  Ashton lowered his arms; Baxter Knowles was gone, vanished through the enormous candle-lit antique mirror set into the mantle above Ashton's head.

  SIXTEEN

  THEN

  Zak followed the cloaked figure down the hall. Whoever it was moved soundlessly, flowing from shadow to shadow with a practiced ease. Zak found himself straining to stay as quiet, holding his breath as he tip-toed along. Pausing behind a tall cabinet to catch a breath he wondered again who would be creeping about so mysteriously. It was late… no, early, just before dawn. He had not been able to sleep, charged up after the ritual but unable to channel his new-found energy. He was too edgy to read but too tired to create. Music held no joy, nor did his usual post-ritual toke. In the end there was nothing for him to do but wander the halls. Obviously he wasn't the only restless one.

  He scurried after the silent figure, who was quickly vanishing down the main stair. In spite of his caution, Zak's hip bumped the outer edge of a curio-laden table, making a small but clearly-audible sound. The figure turned at his, then sped down the steps.

  Knowing the time for stealth was over, Zak hit the landing running and sprinted down the stair towards the main doors. They hung open, still swinging on their hinges. He raced outside, pausing on the top step to try and re-sight the manor's mystery guest. It was darkest here, the front of the house enshrouded in the deep gloom of the massive ancient elms along the upper ridge. Zak scanned quickly back and forth but saw nothing; it was only the sound of movement which betrayed the others loca
tion. Zak leapt down the steps, dove forward into the hedgerow. There was a brittle crash as he tore through the greenery, landing gracelessly in the dew-slicked grass. Suddenly upside-down, he found himself staring up into a familiar face.

  "ZAK! What the hell are you doing?"

  "Annie? Aw, shit… what are you doing? Why are you sneaking around like that?"

  Annie stared down at him for a moment; then, seemingly against her better judgment, she reached down and helped him up. "I'm leaving."

  Zak brushed himself off, leaning on her for support. "Leaving? Where? Why?" He straightened up, 110 volts of pain shooting through his back.

  "I have to go. I can't do this anymore." She was carrying a single tightly-packed bag, which had been hidden under the folds of her cloak.

  "Nice cloak. Where can I get one?"

  She looked away, vanishing before his eyes. "It was a gift. From Ashton. He said it belonged to his grandmother."

  "Does he know? That you're leaving?"

  "No. Nobody knows… but you." She paused. "Will you let me go?"

  Zak laughed uneasily. "Well, yeah. Of course. If that's what you want. I was just trying to understand why."

  She said nothing, the sky slowly growing lighter behind her. Zak attempted to untangle the branches of the crumpled hedge but they were hopelessly broken. Fingers sticky with sap he stepped away from the mess he had made and looked towards the road. "Where are you headed?"

  "Home. My folks weren't too happy with the idea of me spending my entire summer vacation up here. They thought that something... bad would happen." Annie set her bag down and opened her arms. "Goodbye, Zak.".

  "Wait, just wait a minute. Before you leave, there's something I wanna show you." Zak took Annie by the hand and lead her away from the porch. Wordlessly they made their way alongside the western wall of the manor and then past it. They skirted the woods, following the hill as it rose into an enclosed outcropping of stones. It was still dim here, in contrast to the growing brightness of the outer world. As such the shadows were deep, full, adding further mystery to the vision before her.

  "Zak…it's wonderful." Annie stared in awe at what Zak called the Rock of Faces. Countless characters looked back at her from the tumble of shale: noble kings and hoary trolls, crag-nosed wizards and moon-faced priestesses, monsters, martyrs, angry angels and laughing devils all bound together in the same dew-clad mound. Thick green mosses and taut vines overran the angled stone, creating dense beards and tangled hair. Steam rose from gaping mouths and empty sockets, giving the scene a potent, dream-like quality intensified by the lingering effects of the Paq'qa. Annie reached forward to stroke a beard, was surprised as a red and black spotted salamander scrambled for the safety of a cave-mouth. She noticed a second and a third, discovered the wall was crawling with them. Within shadowed mouths spiders spun intricate, dew-jeweled webs, catching huge colorless moths lost on their way towards the light. Beetles trundled down sloping brows and into the wrinkled recesses of wizened heads, while clouds of gnats floated breath-like above. Annie would have assumed it was all a dream, but her dreams were never so interesting.

  "I stumbled across this place the night… the night Adam beat the shit out of me."

  Annie's eyes widened. "He what?"

  Zak leaned back against the old ivy-covered shed. "It was, I dunno, two weeks ago. The night it rained and we were forced to hold the ritual inside. Things… went badly, with James getting pissed and storming out of the room. I guess Adam still had a bug up his ass about me mocking him earlier in the evening. You remember, the whole chaos thing?"

  Annie nodded, eager for him to continue.

  "Well, he was embarrassed, angry…"

  "You did make him look like a fool," Annie volunteered.

  "He made himself look like a fool. He's a poseur, a wanna-be; I've seen his kind a hundred times; glomming on to something they don't really understand because they think they can bullshit their way through it. Do you think he actually understands that book he's always lugging around?"

  "You think you do?"

  Zak waved his hand dismissively. "More so than he does."

  Annie looked unsure.

  "That doesn't matter. The point is, he'd been looking for a reason to come after me since we met. My questioning his dogmatic bullshit in front of the group was just what he'd been waiting for. Anyway, after everyone left, I got angry. I'd been left behind again. I noticed that James had left the case with the Paq'qa in the study. I decided to smoke some."

  Annie blinked, clearly surprised.

  "I know, it was a shitty thing to do. I've felt bad about it ever since. It's just… I don't know. I was so resentful. I just felt like I was the one person in the group who just didn't fit in."

  Annie laughed. "Funny. I always thought that was me."

  "The Paq'qa messed me up pretty badly. Without James to guide the experience it took me to some pretty weird places. I… found things there. Dreams I had long forgotten, memories I never had. It was overwhelming. I guess I must have passed out at some point. I woke up to someone dumping a bookshelf on top of my head. It was dark; I had no idea of what was happening. So I panicked, which was what Adam was hoping for. He proceeded to stalk me, herding me into the kitchen. Somehow he got a hood over my head, forced me over one of the big oven's burners…" He paused, touching his face delicately. "I was still tripping on the Paq'qa, so I had no idea what was actually happening. I passed out again; when I woke up I was outside, tied up and naked."

  Annie looked at him in disbelief.

  "He did this." Zak lifted his shirt, showed her the sigil that had been carved into his chest. The wounds were still raw, having never received the needed stitches to properly close them. Angry red scar tissue traced a pattern across his pale skin.

  "Oh, my God, Zak!"

  Zak closed his shirt. "In his own brutish, literal way, Adam did show me chaos. He made me aware of the great many things beyond me, things entirely out of my hands. It was lesson I had to learn the hard way."

  Annie blanched. "You can't possibly feel what he did to you was justified…" she began.

  "No. No, of course not. But it was an experience I needed to have. Adam acted as a functionary, allowing me to see what it was I was surrounded with all along. It a bizarre way it helped me, shaped the perspective I have now."

  Annie shrugged. "I wish I could say the same."

  Unsure of what she meant, Zak took her hand. "Annie, what we do here, it's beyond anything we're ever going to find back at school or out in the 'real world.' This experience isn't something that can be bought or won. It can only be granted, by the grace of whatever God you believe in."

  Annie looked at him intently. "Do you believe this… this thing is a God?"

  Zak considered this for a long time before answering. "God has always had many faces. While there are some general points we can all pretty much agree on, the idea of God is gonna be a little different for everybody. My grandmother is hard-core Greek Orthodox, has been all her life. Her belief is unshakable, despite all of the shitty things that have happened to her in her eighty-odd years on the planet. Will she go to Heaven? I hope so. But if she does, will that mean she was right and everyone else was wrong? I don't want her to be wrong, but I don't want to end up in her Hell, either. I guess the point is… God should be whatever works for you. You know, as long as you're not some freaked out maniac running around chopping people up or something. A few extremists might disagree with me on this point but I really don't think that's why we're born. If there really is one true way, most people would agree its tenants include tolerance and a basic respect for life of all types, not just other humans." Zak paused self-consciously

  "The true way is your way, my way, whatever way someone chooses to follow, as long as there's a reverence for life, for experience. The relationship a person has with God should be personal, not moderated by some third party, and not governed by repression and fear. Any truly useful spiritual teacher will tell you that buildi
ng this relationship takes a lifetime of experiences. It is why we're here, according to THE FIRST BOOK OF PAQ'Q: "You have been cleaved from me, separated from my perfection so that I may once again live." The idea that God needs us, that each one is a valued and essential organ… that's what I believe in. There's a lot of other stuff I don't. I pick and choose, using the best of each school of thought I'm exposed to; I only keep what is true, and discard the rest."

  "Well," Annie said, considering his answer. "That all very well and good, but it isn't exactly a yes or a no, is it?"

  Zak laughed. "Yeah, you're right. I'd have to say both yes and no. No in the sense that I don't believe Paq'q is the end-all, be-all of everything, but yes in the sense I feel He is a very big part of it. I don't necessary think His is an active, thinking mind like yours or mine. All this talk of being seated on thrones and stuff, I don't take it literally. It's symbolic, you know? Metaphorical. He is with us, in the sense that the seed of potential is in is us. He is enshrined because it's this potential that lifts us up, allows us to go forward. Paq'q is just the personification of evolution, albeit a sexy and enigmatic one. It works for us because we're a bit more sophisticated than previous generations. We've been exposed to so much more, want so much more than those who came before. This school of thought was tailor-made for us."

  Annie thought about this. "We'll, if we're just getting it out of some book, isn't that contrary to us discovering these truths on our own? Aren't we just taking someone's word for it?"

  Zak faltered. "Well, no. I mean, we are… the system was designed…" He sputtered to a halt. "I, uh, I guess you got me there."

  She smiled and again took his hand. "I understand what you're getting at, Zak; I'm just playing Devil's advocate. The thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore. I've had tons of experiences here, none of which I understand. I've seen things on the Paq'qa, been shown things that are simply beyond my scope of experience. Important things I think I knew once but then forgot. I feel… a connection to something. Something far greater; I do feel as though I have been chosen for something. I know it. And it scares the shit out of me."