Ramey Sandeley is crying.
“Did you bring me to the lake to kill me?” I ask him in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m sorry if I frightened or hurt you. Please forgive me; forgive me for everything. I never meant to harm you. I only wanted to stop you from leaving me.” He lifts his head and looks at me through streams of tears.
“The first time I saw you was the first time I felt myself come alive. Your eyes pierced through mine like fucking razor blades and I saw in you all the wonders of the universe. I felt I’d found my mate, someone I could share all the crazy fantasies, ideas, and dreams. And in the darkness, every night, I wished you close to me, to stave off the monstrous evils that dogged me. It was you, only you...”
He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, takes a deep breath, and pushes himself up from the ground. His face contorts as he appears to struggle against an insurmountable force.
“Sacrifice means nothing unless you are willing to give up something you can’t live without. I brought you here for a purpose. But things have changed.”
“Is that why you left me on the island?”
“Yes.”
“What has changed?”
“I told Ruth. I confessed everything.”
“You told her you planned to kill me?”
Ramey has regained his composure, but the breakdown has washed away the rugged facade.
“Ruth wants a divorce. The contract was due to expire in a few months anyway. She asked for half my estate and joint custody.”
“Did you agree to her terms?”
“She knows my secrets. There was no choice.”
“I wish you both the best, Ramey.”
He casts me a flippant smile and gazes deeper...
“I’m leaving in a few hours.”
“That gives us time.”
“We have no future.”
“There is only the moment.”
“I’ve released you, Ramey.”
“No you haven’t.”
“It’s over.”
“It never began.”
“The torment began long ago.”
“Torment?”
“Longing. I can’t endure it any longer. It must come to an end. This phase is finished. I’ve evolved. I’m not the same woman I was when we met.”
“No. You’re not the same woman. That’s why you’re here.”
I lower my eyes and steel myself against a wave of self-pity.
“Long ago, after I first met you, I made a promise at a shrine: an unmarked face for a life of truth. I realize now that I have been a fool. I destroyed a privileged life for nothing, and there is no destiny awaiting me, only loneliness and misery.”
“Are you telling me that after having come so far you’ll depart without a taste of what you came here to experience?”
“I didn’t come here for that.”
“That’s not true.”
I am silent for a long moment and then confess: “I searched my entire life for love, but when it came unbidden it was not what I thought it would be. There was no joy, nor possibility of fulfillment or peace. I came here for resolution, to rid myself of you, not to cause myself more grief. If I give myself up, it will destroy me.”
“Why do you define making love as giving in, and why do you give up so easily? Before you can begin a new life or enter a new world, you must first seek transformation. And that can only happen by letting go of false values and embracing all aspects of yourself, especially those you find most distasteful, as they hold the greatest power. We both saw something in each other we needed, so let’s find out what that is. Likely you’ll be done with me once you’ve had me,” he says with a wry smile.
He draws off his T-shirt, unbuckles his belt and drops his jeans, then casts the clothes into a pile at the edge of the circle. He stands naked before me with arms spread wide.
“I give myself to you completely, in absolute surrender,” he says, and his plaintive voice brings me to the fine edge of tears.
“It’s a cruelty of fate that we found each other too late.”
“Fate makes no mistakes.”
With these words my resolve is shattered. Outside myself, I watch my hands move quickly to strip away clothing, piece by piece, and let the garments drop where they will. With shaking hands, I free myself from the bondage of the cloth and find a freedom in nakedness I have never known.
“You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” Ramey says, and moves to where I stand.
There is magic in this circular glen, an otherworldly current. I feel wired with billions of raw nerves sending shivers of new sensations. Waves of bliss and terror collide and give birth to a beauty, a newborn feeling, utterly nameless.
Ramey draws me to him, enfolds me in his arms and lowers me to the ground. It is the first time I have smelled it... the raw stench of the mate. His skin burns hot and his fervor is voracious yet gentle. He explores me with the assurance of a man who has known many women, while caressing with the wonder of a man who has never before seen or felt a woman. His touch holds the reverence reserved for one who is cherished, worshipped—sacred.
And I savor all of him. The taste and texture of his hair and skin, the rough parts and the smooth, every inch of his body traced and recorded. The nuance of each moment is lived fully and completely. I gather these treasures to be secreted for a lifetime and relished in the last moments. These memories will reside with me at the end of my life and guide me into eternity.
“Why are you weeping?” he asks me.
“Tell me you love me, even if you don’t mean it,” I say, peering through gray-blue windows into a world of endless possibilities.
“I love you and I mean it,” he whispers.
And with those words I open my heart, body and soul to him, and he glides inside with the ease of two who were destined to become one. Our union charges Ramey with a ferocious intensity. His thrusts are fierce, nearly brutal—there is no escape, no retreat from his ruthless passion. His crazed desire is met by a vicious urgency of my own, something I cannot control and won’t. We writhe in the filth like vile curs, humping, grinding, biting, and tearing at each other, merciless—moaning, squealing, like rabid beasts. I want to devour and be consumed by him and more, so much more.
A shimmering light moves into the circle and I feel I am dissolving inside the mist. “Give yourself over completely, don’t fight it, let go. It’s time. Don’t be afraid to disappear inside me.”
“I’m afraid to let go. I am terrified I’ll go mad or die.”
“You’ll go mad or die if you don’t give in.” His eyes focus deeper. “It’s the part of you I most desire.” He slows his pace to slip his hands beneath me and draw me firmly against him. With languid strokes, he guides me to the pinnacle, the threshold, the edge of the abyss. “Let me take you there. Ride with me to another world, fly with me...”
“If I were to perish in this glen tonight, it would be worth the sacrifice, if only to have experienced this feeling once in a lifetime,” I murmur, and rise into the throes of a glorious ecstasy, to the place where time stops.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE FINAL SACRIFICE
I AWAKEN AS ONE DRUGGED, IN A FOG OF CONFUSION AND DREAD, from a supernatural dream, a hallucination so vivid and powerful I am uncertain if I was actually transported into another dimension. Flashes of the profound images fire through my mind and the burning terror grows as I hear what sound like whispers coming from the outer edges of the brush. Sprawled out next to me, Ramey looks strangely unreal. The mist of rain that fell while we slept gives his skin a dewy and luminescent sheen, like that of a newly hatched being. The tattooed symbols on his lower back appear darker and more deeply fixed, as though carved into his body.
Warm droplets from the thick mantle of branches covering the sphere fall on me as I dress myself with shaking hands. The beauty of the glen has transformed into an eerily claustrophobic prison and a sorrowful desperation has seized me. I feel somethin
g terrible is about to happen—and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
“Come back to me,” Ramey says and rises up from the ground.
“I’ll be jailed if I don’t make my flight,” I say, and move to where Faithful feeds at the edge of the circle.
“You can’t leave,” he says, and moves to re-dress himself.
“You can’t leave, because we’re not yet done with you,” Georgie growls, as he lumbers through the sludge leading into the sacred ring. Roger Sandeley follows closely behind, robed but not hooded, and carries a spear in his hand. André Labat, who appears badly beaten, limps behind them with his head bowed. Beneath a veil of dark glossy hair his face is as pallid as a corpse on ice.
“Here,” Roger says to Ramey, “take the sacred blade. Let’s finish this quickly. There is little time left before sunrise. I assume you’ve taken care of what was needed.
“Tie her to one of the trees behind the altar,” Roger instructs Georgie.
As I turn to bolt, he grabs me from behind and drags me to a spot near the altar where a smattering of elms huddle.
“This sprig of a tree will work,” Roger says. “It looks like a fine conduit.”
Georgie shoves me against the slender elm and cinches my wrists with remnants of leather strips he has taken from a trough near the fire pit. He draws my hands back until I cry out, arms nearly pulled from their sockets and tightly bound against the trunk.
“You’re quite the tree whore,” he says, and rips open my blouse to expose my bare chest.
Roger wears an expression of rapt concentration as he leads Georgie and André behind the tree.
“Let’s begin the ceremony,” he commands in a voice that echoes through the glen. He removes a pouch from a pocket inside his robe and inserts fingers to extract an oily residue to anoint me with an insignia on my forehead and chest. Chanting an invocation, a bringing forth of the disciples, he expresses disappointment for those members who cannot be present for the supreme offering.
Now he directs his poisonous tongue to my ear, his voice vibrating in the hollow of the cavity, filling me with vile words, like molten lead poured inside the delicate winding canal—a torture favored by the barbarians.
“Save your filthy sentiments for those who suck you for your riches,” I whisper back, drawing my painted toe away from the touch of his polished shoe.
“Would you defile your moment of glory?” Roger exclaims. “Let’s get this over with, Uncle,” I hear Ramey call out from a distant spot.
There is a potent pause while Roger sucks in a wad of phlegm and coughs it back up, then his ministerial voice penetrates the heavy air. “You are about to be taken by the feathered crows of destiny. They will guide you past the moons of Saturn to where the fathers reside. Our fathers who came down from the heavens and created the civilization of man, and who yet send messages of light to direct us. Chamborati, Feramoric, Simbula, in humble respect, honor, and gratitude we offer up this sacrifice.” His voice trails off in vapors, floating out and vanishing above my shoulder.
Ramey’s image appears through the faint residue of the dwindling haze. He holds aloft the weapon from the display in Roger’s vestibule, the spear wielded by conquers that is said to hold magical powers. “The mother gives life and the father takes life. I am your father. Those who give and take life live for eternity. It is a gift. Take it. Close your eyes and open your heart. The earth will be a better place with this sacrament. You will change the course of the world as I take you to another level of existence.” His voice is that of a child who has memorized a prayer, but has no connection to the content.
“Don’t be afraid, Alexandra. There is no death, only a transformation of energy. In every cell lies the memory of the evolution of the universe and through transformation shall continue through eternity. In one human being lie all the mysteries of the universe.” He observes me with the small degree of pity afforded a minor pet or other lowly creature before its flame is extinguished. I search his eyes for the memories that bind us, the sacrament of souls joined, bodies united, dreams shared—and a profound vision that portents the unveiling of a phantasmagoric future.
“Close your eyes. Shut them or I will have you blindfolded.”
“What about the vision, Ramey? You were there with me—you saw it too! How can you kill me if I am to be—”
“Silence!” Roger commands.
Ramey shows no acknowledgement of the powerful dream, and I realize he is no longer with me. He has a more vital duty, a responsibility to the clan. And, truth be told, I would rather it be him that takes my life. The man who holds the Spear of Destiny, the godly mortal who once captured my soul, will now set me free of his bondage.
I close my eyes, surrender my spirit to the inevitable, and prepare to leave Earth and enter the eternal world. My senses are acute in this last moment of life and my mind clear, silent, at peace. The chambers of the past have been sealed.
Deep male voices chant in unison and I smell the stinking sulfur of a fire that surely burns something more than chopped wood. I am not afraid. I am prepared to take him one last time. A sacrifice for love is a beautiful thing. To die any other way is tragedy. Banished, broken, my sons taken from me, I have nothing left in this world. I hunger for release: the triumphant ending of my life dispatched by Ramey Sandeley, with one thrust deep inside my heart.
A humid stench charges the air, and an abrupt silence falls as time extends from the moment to the eternal. There is a shocked wave, a tight contraction of my heart, followed by the sound of a sharp blade ripping through skin and splintering bones, a heavy grunt, a rush of air forcing its way through a wind tunnel—and the act of savagery is complete.
There is no pain. My eyelids flutter open to see blood oozing down my chest. Roger stumbles along my side while grabbing onto my bound arm.
“Dear God. Not my father!” André cries out.
“Fucking Jesus Christ, Ramey, what have you done? What the fuck have you done, Sandeley? What in the hell have you done?” Georgie bellows.
Roger releases my arm and lurches forward, grasping his neck while gagging convulsively. With a sickening grunt, he drops to his knees and falls back onto the damp grass by my feet. Gazing down at his prostrate body, I see the ancient spearhead has been buried in his throat to the hilt, with the laced leather handle sticking out of his neck.
André drops to his knees and embraces his motionless body. “You’ve killed my father...” he cries out.
“What the fucking hell have you done. Answer me, man.” Georgie yells, then bends over the body and yanks out the blade, releasing a torrent of blood that soaks the carpet of grass.
“I’m now the Grand Master, La Pointe, not one of your drooling sycophants or your fawning groupies—so do me a favor and shut the fuck up and move your uncle’s corpse to the fire. I now rule. The Spear of Destiny is mine,” Ramey says, and grabs the sword from Georgie’s hand.
“Answer me one question. Why the hell now? Why couldn’t you have waited until the old man croaked?”
“We’re running out of time; the sun is beginning to rise. You know what needs to be done.”
Georgie kicks André aside, takes Roger’s feet and drags him toward the altar, leaving behind a sticky trail on the damp grass.
“André, help him prepare your father for sacrifice. The same rules apply; his heart goes first. And when you’re done, push his boat out into the lake. If someone asks when you last saw him, tell them it was at the men’s club meeting. You got that, Labat?”
“Move, fucking idiot,” Georgie says to André. “Get up and move your ass, you half-breed moron.”
André rises and turns to face me. His ashen face, streaked with soot and blood, is smeared with tears. “I admit I betrayed you, but your trust gave me courage,” he says, then lowers his head and moves to help drag Roger to the altar.
Georgie tosses more logs and kindling onto the bonfire, causing huge flames to fan into the sky. Faithful spooks at the combustion, pulls
his rope free, and bolts into the forest.
Ramey unties my hands and leads me through the concentric circles. Spattered with the blood of his slain uncle, he looks like a medieval warrior passed over from another dimension. I tread next to him in a numb state of bewilderment and turmoil—a chaotic stew of thoughts and feelings swirl, none of which make any sense, all contradictory, disturbing. I cannot begin to speculate, or fully understand what has taken place. I want to awaken from this bizarre dream, but I cannot wake myself.
“Why did André call Roger his father?”
“Because he is his father. He is Roger’s son with his first wife, a local native. Peter Labat is his stepfather. Georgie, André, and I are the only children of three brothers. My cousins will likely bring their part of the family line to an end.
“The light from the moon is the strongest here, and the location allows for the sun to be most clearly seen when it rises,” Ramey says as he leads me to the center of the first circle. The clouds above us swirl in a formation that resembles an entryway to another world.
“I told you I loved you, but I don’t believe love exists,” Ramey says, and stares at me with eyes like stones stuck in concrete.
“I know you don’t.”
“But you want me to.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Be honest.”
“Most women seek it.”
“Men don’t love, they replicate,” he says in a voice devoid of emotion. “They replicate their DNA in the best possible partner. The only reason one stays is to make certain his flesh survives and further reproduces. It is the law of the universe and we are no different. Life is only geometry, mathematics, atoms, molecules, and codes. When you feel love, it is a message from your body that you have found a superior match. Once the conquest is complete it doesn’t last much longer, does it?”
The House on Black Lake Page 21