by Graham Wynd
Sandra was bursting to dig through the book. She had brought her Latin dictionary to the Sigma Tau Nu house some time back as they consulted it all the time for unusual terms that hadn’t been in her high school lessons. But now she found they needed some sort of handbook for medieval abbreviations to decipher the passages. Trixie phoned LeMarchand, who promised them a volume by special delivery and chuckled that he would be keeping up with their exploits.
Indeed the theft of the book had not gone unnoticed: “Rare Volume Linked to Ritual Murders?” screamed the headlines, at least in Hartford. Books didn’t fly with the Post’s audience, they were waiting for more blood.
Sandra was eager for blood, too. But so much of the new volume was puzzling, incomplete and tantalizing. She found a slip of paper between the leaves that read:
I have a daughter Light Saturn that is my darling
The which is mother of all working
And in which have four things been hid
A golden seed, a silver seed, a mercury seed & a sulphur seed
But she had no idea what it meant. It didn’t seem to be a translation of anything on the adjacent pages. At last she found what seemed to be a whole ritual, one that promised a great deal of useful power.
“It’s called the Mirror of Lilith,” Sandra told Trixie, who tapped her on the shoulder offering a cup of tea. “I think it will give us a very important ability to see.”
“You should eat something. And maybe shower.”
Sandra shrugged off her hand. Did she not realise how close they were to real power, to true demonic realms? “I’ve almost got this written out. When I’m done with it, I swear. And tomorrow night is the new moon. It will be perfect.”
It would be, too. All the answers that Sandra had sought would be uncovered. The cold winds of the November night rattled the window, but she didn’t hear them any more than she heard Trixie’s repeated reminder of the cup of tea. It had grown cold by the time she thought to drink it, but it tasted sweet nonetheless.
In the silent sorority house, Sandra laughed quietly to herself. “This time tomorrow we will conjure such a one, the first woman who defied the first man, the mother of monsters, the creator of nightmares. And we will be the wiser for her words and she will authorize every evil we have longed to do.”
Sandra hardly recognized her own face in the black glass of the window, lit by a smile with too many teeth.
xiv
The sisters of Sigma Tau Nu gathered in their ritual space, but their attention did not seem to be completely focused. Thanksgiving was nearly upon them and their thoughts had turned to home, pumpkin pie and turkey with all the trimmings. Trixie had to admit that after the jam-packed semester she was ready to have a little break and think about nothing but food and football.
Sandra however had been up here all day, working on a project that she wanted to keep secret until the ritual. “No, no, not yet,” she had called out when Trixie hallooed up the ladder this afternoon. It was getting a bit dull. What was the use of a satanic lesbian sorority lover if she ignored you? She was far too obsessive about that necromantic book. Maybe they could work more on glamour spells after the break. It would be a change of pace.
I’m getting a little tired of washing blood out of everything! Maybe it could be spangles or glitter or something for a change of pace. And more sex, that would be really good. Sandra had been staying up ’til all hours, poring over the tricky Latin, consulting her various references to decipher some passage or other. I never really went for the Poindexter before!
With luck tonight’s ritual would be more fun, lots of sex and less on the blood. Maybe it was something to do with glamour, because Sandra had bought a bunch of mirrors from the Woolworths though she’d muttered something about the color before tromping off to the antique shop. At least she’d been happier when she came back. It was weird though: mirrors didn’t have a color, did they?
When they all gathered for the ritual, Sandra was already naked and the altar was lit with a fat red candle. “We have something special tonight.”
Trixie welcomed anything that broke the tension of the last few hours’ bickering. Agnes was getting on almost everyone’s nerves even before the cops had returned to question the girls about screams overheard on Devil’s Night. It didn’t much help when Agnes told them it was the night she got deflowered. Trixie did some fast talking, convincing them that she was mentally ‘challenged’ – not quite enough to be kept out of classes but hinting that she was a legacy and her parents were loaded.
It was not relaxing. Trixie wanted relaxing. She also wanted Agnes gone. She had the feeling that Lois and Lena and some of the other girls would side with her if it came to a vote. Maybe after the ritual (but before the orgy) they could have a vote on it.
The sisters chatted about mundane things as they disrobed, but Sandra quickly shushed them. There was something different about her tonight. Even more than there had been, Trixie thought. She’s changed. It gave her a funny feeling in her chest. She loved her so much. But suddenly Sandra seemed almost as if she had become a different person. Thirteen women brought together for magic and mayhem; that had been Trixie’s idea. Somehow she felt as if it had all gotten away from her though – and fallen into Sandra’s hands.
Oh my God, I’m envious! Trixie flushed, feeling annoyed with herself. Just because Sandra had found her own power. No reason to feel that, she should be proud of her beloved and admire her ambition.
Should, however, didn’t always mean was. I’ll just admit it and move on. Look how beautiful she is with that athame and she really has improved her leadership skills. Wasn’t that part of the original Sigma Tau Nu charter? Trixie laughed at herself. You never know what will come of the things you dash off in a moment of inspiration.
“Our ritual tonight has a slightly different purpose,” Sandra announced. “You all know about the book we liberated from the Yale library. It’s about to bear fruit.” She held up a piece of black glass, that Trixie belatedly realized was a mirror. On it were three pentangles and some writing that formed a shape rather like a shield.
“In the past we summoned male demons; like brings like. I chose this ritual because it has many repercussions that will prove useful to our growing power.” The other girls seemed pleased with the idea and murmured their approval as they passed the wine and added some of their blood. Sandra put the black mirror on the altar and began the summoning.
“I conjure you, demons, that you will come and swear an oath and answer whatever question I will ask with perfect truth!” It was always tricky conjuring demons. As they’d learned with the last invoking, getting the demonic onto this plane was full of pitfalls. Without prompting, the other girls began to chant una nobiscum in an almost melodic form. Trixie again experienced the sense of the steering wheel being wrenched from her hands but she dutifully joined the chorus, curious as they all were to see what would happen.
“I conjure You, Lilith, and Your companions, by the annunciation of our infernal Lord, and by the host of demons, and by the blood we have shed for power, that in whatever hour I call You, You shall appear to me in this mirror and show me truly a response or sign of that thing which I shall wish to know.” Sandra dipper her finger in the bowl of mingled blood and drew a sigil on the mirror’s surface. Trixie recognised it from her own studies: the mark of Lilith. A ripple of energy moved through the room. Murmurs suddenly stopped. Trixie looked at Sandra’s bowed head.
“Lilith is with us,” she intoned, staring intently into the mirror. “What will you ask of Her?”
“Will I pass chemistry?” Lois squealed.
“Do not try Her patience with trivia.” Sandra’s voice seemed deeper, more resonant. Something in it made Trixie shiver.
“What do I bear?” Agnes said, her voice quiet yet ringing in the attic. Suddenly it seemed as if the whole room held its breath as they waited for an answer.
“My child.”
Sandra spoke but the voice that came from her lips was guttural a
nd rough. A couple of the young women started back, uncertain who had spoken, knowing only from which direction the sound had come. “You bear a monster within you and it will come to fruition before the usual number of fated days.”
“Hail Lilith.” Agnes collapsed on the floor, writhing as if she were in some kind of seizure or perhaps abnormal ecstasy. The others backed away from her, uncertain.
“Don’t encourage her,” Trixie hissed at Sandra. “I know you want to make it work this time but-”
“Do not speak with disrespect. Lilith is the mother of all. She lived before Adam. Some say that She lived before gods and demons, too. Though cast in the role of monster, She is a demon beyond memory.”
“But Agnes isn’t.”
Clearly the girls were divided. A few were helping Agnes to her feet again, trying to calm her frenzied movements and supporting her weakened limbs. Others were muttering with annoyance, ready to put their clothes back on and depart. Miranda said something about ‘mumbo jumbo’ while Lena argued and tried to shush her.
“We are beset by iniquity,” Sandra said in her normal voice again, “turning sister against sister. Who is the author of this betrayal?”
Trixie’s heart seemed to leap up into her mouth. Her hand flew to her throat as if to stop it on the way there, but the lump rode up and it made her silent and even as she felt it was so, her heart also seemed to be pounding in her chest like a hammer on a coffin lid, trying to get free for just one more breath.
Sandra turned and in the guttural voice said, “She is the betrayer. She must perish.” And her hand rose, the accusing finger ascending in the flickering candle light like an arrow ready to fly-
-right at Trixie.
“No.” The word was simple yet it was a struggle to get out. Her heart seemed to have lodged half way down her throat and she choked on it. Sandra’s eyes were black, as if they had taken the shine of the mirror. Or maybe the blackest pit of hell where Lilith waited had filled her eyes like the peat of a forgotten grave. “No, I never-”
But it was too late. Trixie had not realized that there were so many who had been waiting for her downfall. She thought she was popular, the perfect sorority sister. Her door was always open, her car ready to give rides, her notes shared with all her best girls. Sure, she had maybe become a little obsessed with Sandra – and maybe Sandra had been a little more ambitious than she could have guessed, but that wasn’t her fault! Yet they all clawed at her, snarling and snapping, as if they too had been possessed by some demon spirits. Even little Agnes who with a yelp latched onto her arm, biting deep enough that Trixie had to smash her face with her other hand to get her to let go.
Then both arms were gripped tightly and her legs as well. Trixie wailed. They pulled her down to the floor, growling and howling, some of them even drooling as they gnashed their teeth at her. “Stop!” she finally shouted but didn’t think the word even registered with the slavering beasts surrounding her.
The girls parted slightly and she saw Sandra by her head. Trixie could have cried with relief. Sandra loved her. She couldn’t cause her any harm, not really. She might punish her for some imagined wrong, but surely she wouldn’t really-
“The betrayer must suffer the penalty.” The bestial voice scratched through the room. Sandra’s eyes glowed black in the dim light. Trixie found herself lost in their depths. There seemed to be nothing human in them and yet her own eyes did their best to convey a mute appeal to the woman she had loved so truly, like no other in her life.
“Rip her apart,” Sandra commanded as she plunged the knife into Trixie’s chest. Then there was nothing but the blood, the nails, the tearing and then blackness without end.
xv
Sandra surveyed the spring crowd. It was a bit thin, to be honest. Mid-year transfers and late starts: the kind of folks who were overlooked by the majority of the houses at the best of times. Not many of the Greek organizations showed up. And at a university troubled by scandal and murder – well, it was safe to say the pickings were slim.
At least no one complained about the beatniks anymore.
‘Satanic Rites in College Town’ the Courant’s headline ran with breathless coverage that occasionally tipped into wild speculation and rumor-mongering. The Post reliably departed from fact almost completely as it covered ‘Satan on Sorority Row’ with lurid post-mortem pictures they’d bribed someone in the police department for with sufficient funds to get an ample number of shots. Sandra hadn’t seen a single duplicate in their coverage yet. Probably one of their writers had already sold the columns to True Police Cases or some other pulpy magazine – or maybe even negotiated a book deal with one of those trashy paperback publishers who specialized in sensational crime. She could almost picture the lurid cover. Poor Dick, his murder had been almost forgotten. Even the police didn’t bring him up much in their increasingly clueless announcements. Women made better cover copy, especially when they were dead.
If they only knew the lesbian angle, too. Think how many more copies they’d sell!
Poor Trixie: she’d really been a disappointment. As Sandra scouted the shuffling students for a potential thirteenth, she couldn’t help missing her friend. She had style, there was no doubt about that. And she was one sexy dame. Every time she lit a cigarette with Trixie’s lighter, Sandra remembered those slim, agile fingers.
But Trixie never did have the stomach for the real work. As Sandra refined her translation of the Munich Handbook, she could see the world begin to stretch out before her like a plum ripe for the taking. All it required was the right kind of courage.
And thirteen women: speaking of which, her gaze fell upon a gal who looked like she’d been dragged to the open house against her better judgment. Her black hair shone like an oil slick and she had way too much eye makeup for the Greek crowd. A black leather jacket completed a look that suggested a chip on her shoulder the size of Long Island Sound. She might as well have been snapping her gum.
“C’mon, Agnes,” Sandra purred, cutting through the crowd with the meek secretary of Sigma Tau Nu following in her wake. It was lucky the girl wasn’t showing yet or the admin would have kicked her out of the university. The girls were pooling all their fashion skills to plan a series of outfits to hide her growing size until summer. Then the next phase of the plan could unfold.
“Hi there! Have you thought of joining a sorority?”
The girl in the leather jacket looked Sandra up and down, taking in her pearls and sweater set. “I’m just looking for the motorcycle club. Do I look like the sorority type?”
Sandra leaned in so close she could smell the leather. “You look like our type.”
The young woman stared back, startled. Then she grinned. “Is that so? Are you gals part of the sorority whose president was murdered? A real waste of a pretty girl.” Her smile had a crooked charm that came off real cocky. Agnes looked terrified of her but Sandra could tell it was a front. Still...
“We’ve suffered, there’s no doubt about that,” Sandra said, her voice soft. “Some believe we should suffer in silence. But I don’t believe in suffering. I believe in revenge.”
The leather-clad girl grinned more widely. “Yeah? Sign me up for some of that.”
“What’s your name?”
“Varla.”
“Well, Varla, we could use a girl like you. Why don’t you come by Sigma Tau Nu and have a little drink and a nibble.”
Varla chuckled. “Who’s going to nibble me?”
Sandra linked her arm through the black leather elbow, then took Agnes’ arm, too. “Maybe we’ll all take turns.”
“I think I had this sorority business all wrong.” Varla allowed herself to be led out of the student center and into the dull January sun light.
“We’re not like other girls,” Sandra said and laughed.
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About the Author
A writer of bleakly noirish tales with a bit of grim humour, Graham Wynd can be found in Dundee but would prefer you didn’t come
looking. An English professor by day, Wynd grinds out darkly noir prose between trips to the local pub. Wynd’s novella of murder and obsessive love, Extricate is out now from Fox Spirit Books; the print edition also includes the novella Throw the Bones and a dozen short stories.
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About Number Thirteen Press
Pulp
Crime
Novellas
Number Thirteen Press is building a list of 13 quality crime novellas and short novels, to be published consecutively on the 13th of each month from November 2014 to December 2015.
For all the latest info and to sign up for the newsletter, or for details about all 13 releases, go to www.numberthirteenpress.com
Don’t forget to find us on Twitter and Facebook.
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Number Thirteen Press
#1 Of Blondes and Bullets – Michael Young
#2 Down Among the Dead – Steve Finbow
#3 The Mistake – Grant Nicol
#4 When You Run with Wolves – Robert White
#5 Dark Water – Ariana D. Den Bleyker
#6 A Killing Kiss – B.R. Stateham
#7 Redbone – Matt Phillips
#8 The Pact – Turlough Delaney
#9 Dread: The Art of Serial Killing – Mark Ramsden
#10 When the Music’s Over – Aidan Thorn
#11 Satan’s Sorority – Graham Wynd
www.numberthirteenpress.com
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