Satan's Sorority

by Graham Wynd

  “Hail Satan!” all the girls cried in one voice.

  “We offer this sacrifice of blood to You, O Great One. Take her and do with her what You will. Let the reward be ours but the glory be Yours!”

  The girls murmured their assent. Trixie handed the athame to Sandra. “Take this knife and sacrifice to our unholy Lord. Be one of us truly now.”

  “One of us, one of us,” the sisters chanted.

  Sandra looked uncertain for a moment. She stared at the prone figure of her aunt, naked, tied and surrounded by the kabbalistic symbols of summoning. Then she raised the knife.

  “I do what I do of my own free will and I offer my soul in payment for the chance to be free forever of the chains that would bind me.”

  Down plunged the knife into the very heart of her aunt. The woman made a sort of grunt as the hilt struck her breast in the midst of the enneagram painted in her own blood. More blood poured forth from her body. Eagerly all the young women reached for the stream, bathing themselves in its flow, laughing with excitement as they covered themselves in the gore.

  “You are free!” Trixie declared, throwing her arm around Sandra.

  “You are magnificent,” Sandra murmured, feeling quite giddy with all the excitement. Her eyes shone as if filled with some hellish flame. Trixie found herself ready to worship at Sandra’s shrine. From the pretty but cowed young coed who had first appeared in that crowded lobby to the sparkling goddess that stood before her now, Sandra’s transformation was nothing short of astounding.

  That was power indeed.

  Trixie threw back her head and let forth a wild shriek of happiness. The others followed suit. She grabbed another bottle of wine, poured some as a libation on the cold flesh before them, then swallowed a generous amount herself before passing the bottle to Sandra. “Let us all celebrate the pleasures of the flesh!”

  She grabbed Sandra and began to kiss her, smearing the blood across their faces, caressing every inch of her skin. Who cared what blood flowed? She hungered for her lips, her breasts, her thighs. In no time at all the sisters all writhed together on the floor, skin to skin, blood covering them all, moans of ecstasy filling the attic space.

  Who could have looked on that sight and not marvelled at the sheer carnality?

  Their wanton bodies strove for pleasure, meeting, parting, meeting again, soft skin draped in blood’s ochre, frenzied mouths wet and open, hungry only for more, more, more. And in the midst of it all the silent flesh of the sacrifice lay in mute sufferance, climbed upon by coupling or tripling forms, its own limbs appropriated for depraved rites that made the celebrants laugh with morbid glee.

  Such pleasures filled the space with cries, moans and shrieks of delight and many hours passed, the flesh still striving on to further pleasures even when the victim had grown cold and stiff. The girl Agnes amused herself cutting further symbols of beckoning, binding and supplication into the pale exsanguinated flesh. Even in death Margaret was to know no respite, for her body provided further amusements to the girls who, not content at exploring the farthest realms of fleshy experience themselves, sought to unveil the secrets of her corporeal unity. They pried her deepest secrets out of her and left no corner dark from eyes and hands that would know too much.

  Trixie could never be sure if those were bite marks she saw on the kidney and liver as they stuffed the mangled flesh back together in preparation for its removal. Let no act forbidden by man or God be disbarred from them now. All avenues were open and they would revel in the secrets that had been hidden.

  Later as she lay with Sandra in her own little bed, skin on skin, heat coursing through them, Trixie thought there could be no price too high, no danger too much to risk, to have the glory of this woman as a gift. Four years ago she could not have imagined this night. When she arrived at the college much like Sandra had, a timid little thing, ready to be bullied by upper classmen, disdained for her unfashionable clothes and her spotty knowledge of literature and culture, Trixie felt as if an unclimbable mountain loomed before her.

  Then she discovered the lapsed charter. And more importantly it was magic, magic that ravished her. And not just any magic but the infernal arts that had been so carefully hidden away until she chanced on LeMarchand’s bookshop on that theatre class trip to the city. He had recognized a glimmering ambition in her, one that would embrace the dark arts he loved but could seldom summon any more. He welcomed the eager acolyte – and for her part she enjoyed the instruction. Even more, she felt righteously triumphant when he acknowledged her surpassing him and pointing the way to the next level.

  Solitude had been necessary for a time, but the sorority made possible the rituals that needed more than one person could offer. It had taken time but she had peopled the house with girls from many ambitions and eager appetites. The crowning achievement she had sensed that day when she spotted Sandra across the crowd and knew, just knew she would be special. Though she little guessed just how special she would prove to be. Tonight they had turned a corner, ascended to a new level.

  And it would only be the beginning.

  It was almost painful to wait for the morning to come. Everything was going to be different. They would lay such plans for the Kappas – her particular fixture of hatred – but then they would turn to much more important things. Wealth, power, pleasures untold: all would be hers. Hers and Sandra’s and there would be no one to stand in their way as they rose to the top of society. Let the world bleed.

  As they both dozed in the black velvet of the night, Trixie could not help but think, “What brave new world that has such creatures in it.” And then she slept.

  ix

  Detective Walker scribbled in his little notebook as he asked Sandra, “Now what time did you say she arrived?”

  Sandra made a show of thinking about the question carefully. “It was after Psych class so it must have been half past three or later.”

  “And how long did she stay?”

  “Not a long, long time.” Sandra smiled sadly. “It was her bridge night. She didn’t want to miss it.” She sniffed as if the effort of holding back tears was too much.

  “She appeared to be in good spirits? Normal like?”

  “She was just her usual self,” Sandra said with all truthfulness. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “It’s a sad business. And when did she leave?”

  His questions were getting repetitious. Perhaps he was trying to trip her up. “Maybe half an hour later. She got here before I did. My roommate Penny let her in.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to talk to her separately. And after she left, what did you do?”

  “I went to my sorority house.”

  Walker flipped through the notebook to find a reference. “Sigma Tau Nu?” He stretched out the ‘u’ in Nu.

  “Yes, sir.” When in doubt, always agree submissively with authorities you want to please. It fooled them so easily.

  “And what did you do there?”

  Sandra shrugged a little. “You know us girls. We gossiped and traded make-up tips,” and practiced bloody ritual sacrifice. “As you do.”

  “But you stayed there all night?”

  “Yes, that happens a lot. We get to watching the late late show with popcorn and before you know it, it’s the middle of the night. I’ll probably just move into the house come spring, when there’s a room free. Then I won’t have to worry about going back and forth.” Not that I won’t just be sharing with Trixie. It was hard work not to look really happy. Sandra had to keep reminding herself that she was supposed to be sad that her aunt had been killed.

  And not only killed: what was it the newspapers said? ‘Woman’s Body Found Horribly Mutilated’: it even made the Post down in the city, but then that was the kind of lurid story they loved. She wondered if it were really true that they had once run the headline ‘Headless Body Found in Topless Bar’ or if it was just made up.

  They had dumped the body over in the woods by the lake and somebody walking a dog had
found it Sunday. It was too late for that day but the Monday morning papers had trumpeted the news in large letters. You could feel a sort of shiver go through this college town. All at once people were jumpy. Everywhere – in coffee shops and restaurants, before and after class, even in the streets – people were talking about Aunt Margaret and what had happened to her.

  When Detective Walker finally let her leave, Sandra hoofed it to English class, where that loudmouth Kappa Richard Pole and his buddy Jonathan Thomas were speaking with all the authority of know-it-alls who knew nothing. “And I understand they cut her head clean off!”

  Sandra wanted to correct them, “Actually, although we did remove a few of her organs we later returned them to the cavity and her head was entirely intact although with a few added occult symbols to strengthen our power over this mortal plane.”

  Naturally, she didn’t say that out loud.

  Sandra was anxious for class to be over so she could head back to the house. They were reading Aphra Behn’s The Rover. As much as she loved the play it was a bit of a pain because the professor had the belief that plays were meant to be performed not just read, so she made them read speeches out loud before they talked about their meaning and significance.

  Just her luck, she was chosen to read the part of Hellena – which was actually neat because she had terrific speeches – but the prof tapped that idiot Pole to read Willmore. It was painful to direct such glorious words to that brainless Kappa. She’d have rather traded words with Trixie. Pole pronounced every letter with equal weight, as if they were unconnected with meaning.

  At least Sandra could show him up by reading with understanding. Beside, Hellena was taunting him when she said, “Indeed no, that’s the Business of a Witch, and I am but a Gipsy yet – Yet, without looking in your Hand, I have a parlous Guess, ’tis some foolish Heart you mean, an inconstant English Heart, as little worth stealing as your Purse.”

  “Nicely done, Miss DeLites. Now class, what is the significant distinction Hellena makes between the ‘business of a witch’ and that of a gypsy?”

  “She hasn’t done a ritual killing yet,” snorted Pole. He and his buddy guffawed with laughter. Some of the people sitting near them tittered, too.

  “I know it’s a big news story for our town, but we really need to focus on the text-”

  “But isn’t it witches like in the story?” Thomas wasn’t really the sharpest bulb, but he knew how to waste time in class.

  “It’s the carnival, they’re in costume,” Sandra said, trying to disguise the contempt she felt.

  “Exactly,” said the professor, beaming. “The annual festival offered a chance to pretend to be something you’re not, just like our forthcoming Halloween holiday.”

  “But isn’t it witches that did this crime?” Pole persisted. “Like he says there, ‘Nay, then thou dost deal with the Devil, that’s certain.’”

  “Well,” the professor said, “the greater part of the witch trials focused on witches summoning demons, but there’s evidence coming out that the prosecutors went after women who were healers or on the margins of society – or who owned property the city fathers would rather they owned. Witch hunts, as the McCarthy hearings taught us...” The discussion turned to politics instead and it took forever to get back to the play. Sandra was almost relieved when the class ended because she could not bear to be near those louts from Kappa.

  It was just her luck that they too headed back to Greek Row after class. She crossed the street to avoid them, but the two picked up their pace and caught up to her. “Hey, Nu girl. Whatcha doin’ Nuuuuu girl?”

  “Would you troglodytes leave me alone?”

  “Aren’t you afraid to walk on your own? There may be killers in the neighborhood.”

  “You know that was my aunt who was killed,” Sandra said, deeply annoyed. Maybe that would shut them up.

  They did have the good grace to stop acting like a pair of baboons, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. Jonathan said, “Sorry, Sandra. I forgot that’s who it was. But aren’t you creeped out? Especially with Nu being down at the end of the lane?”

  “We could walk you home from class you know,” Pole leered. “We hear you Nu girls are lonely without a frat to pair with you.”

  “We do all right.” Sandra kept her words cold and tried to step a little faster.

  “Yeah, that’s what we hear,” Pole smirked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lonely girls find a way when they’re desperate. It’s disgusting but I wouldn’t mind watching.”

  “I’d bring the popcorn,” Jonathan added with a snicker.

  Sandra’s blood threatened to boil. She thought of all the curses she might lay upon them and how many generations they might reach. Instead she said, “But I thought you Kappas were too busy dealing with ghosts?”

  Pole looked as if he’d been struck. “Why did you say that?”

  Sandra shrugged. “Just rumors I guess.”

  The two of them looked genuinely spooked. “It’s not true,” Jonathan said with a belligerent air.

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Sandra said as she breezed away. The two of them stomped off to Kappa house with considerably less swagger in their steps. The feeling of triumph inside her threatened to explode. Her loathsome aunt was gone and now their haunting of the Kappas seemed to be paying off as well.

  What next for us? Sandra thought as she walked into the Sigma Tau Nu house. I want to make them suffer. “Hey, ladies!”

  The sisters greeted her with hugs and kisses as she waltzed into the parlour.

  “How are you?”

  “How did the interview go?”

  “Did you see all the headlines?”

  Sandra smiled as Trixie wrapped her arms around her for a special kiss. “I’m just glad you’re back. Do they seem to have any idea what happened to your aunt?”

  “No, they’re clutching at straws I think. I doubt these small town coppers have ever dealt with a murder that wasn’t a clear cut wife-killing or a bar fight.” Sandra laughed and snuggled up on the couch with Trixie. “Have they interviewed all of you yet?”

  “The detective was here this morning,” Lena said, her feet propped up on Agnes’ lap while the latter painted her toenails green. “He mostly seemed to be establishing your whereabouts.”

  Agnes snorted. “He gave Lena a little extra grilling. Seems they don’t like sororities that break the color barrier.”

  Lena shrugged. “People assume I must associate with criminals, of course.”

  The girls laughed.

  “Well, you do now,” Trixie said, and they all laughed again. “I guess we should keep things quiet for the meantime, but I’d like to do something big for Halloween. Really get this town talking.”

  “I say we get the Kappas,” Sandra said. “I am so fed up with those no-neck monsters. I had to put up with two thick-headed crewcuts after English class today. They were sneering at our house, implying that we were – oh, what was it? Oh yeah: lesbians!”

  The girls all laughed and started kissing and fondling each other with exaggerated drama.

  “But seriously, that Richard Pole. He said he wanted to watch us.”

  “Ewww!” The outcry was loud and unanimous.

  “We should definitely ice him,” Trixie said thoughtfully. “And that’s how we’ll lure him in secret.”

  They started laying plans even as they waited for the initial hubbub to die down. Lois kept a nifty scrapbook of all the headlines and local news stories about Aunt Margaret’s killing. Sandra had to go home for the funeral – Margaret may have moved to Connecticut but she wanted to rest eternally in the city. Her father had been distracted; it was the busiest time of the year for him. Sandra managed to bite her tongue from remarking that relations were simply ‘a tedious pack of people, who hadn’t got the remotest knowledge of how to live, nor the smallest instinct about when to die.’

  He would not have been amused.

  Cindy came to the fune
ral. Sandra greeted her politely, but could not believe she had ever kissed that girl. Beside Trixie she looked a damp dish rag. There was nothing chic about her, despite her starting up at Barnard.

  “How’s Connecticut?” She asked once she realized that Sandra no longer had any interest in her.

  “It’s much better than I thought it would be,” Sandra said, filling her plate high with macaroni and cheese when they got back to the brownstone after the funeral. “I’m in a terrific sorority. It makes all the difference.”

  “I didn’t really see you as the sorority type,” Cindy said with evident surprise.

  “It has to be the right sorority.”

  Sandra managed a quick visit to her favorite bookstore before she had to take the train back to Connecticut. Mr LeMarchand was delighted to see her and smiled when she mentioned Trixie to him. “I will be sure to send my mail order catalog to your sorority house. Perhaps there will be other girls eager to broaden their studies.”

  x

  Halloween was almost upon them. Fragrant smoke from burning piles of leaves perfumed the crisp air and the scent of pumpkins was never far away. As the students walked to class they scuffed through the crackling leaves. Reds and oranges and yellows filled the branches of the trees and the autumn light took on a golden tinge that said winter was coming, but not yet, not yet.

  Sigma Tau Nu planned their next exploit. It helped the general mood of murderousness that all the houses along Greek Row had gone out of their way to decorate their lawns and fronts for the holiday. Cheery skeletons and a wide variety of jack-o-lanterns peered from everywhere. The Kappas had put on the biggest effort by far. Perhaps they were hoping to distract people from the rumors that were spreading of the frat being haunted, but somehow the expanse of fake tombstones didn’t do much to help. The big centerpiece was a real coffin with a fake skeleton inside it.

  In contrast the Sigma Tau Nu house had very genteel, ladylike bunting in black and orange and a few cheery pumpkins scattered around. Never mind that they formed a protective pentangle for the yard. It would have been difficult to tell unless you were flying overhead. While rumors continued to spread about the Kappa house, most people had forgotten about the Nus connection to the grisly murder in town, though details about the ‘occult symbols’ carved into Margaret’s flesh seemed to have become a very open secret.