When Myrna spoke, it was with words and a dark conviction that Catherine simply didn’t recognize. Once the truth ushered forth, it came in waves that lasted so long that there was no telling how much time passed.
She spoke of a secret life, of a cult called Demon-Fire. About its goal to cleanse the world through pain and death and fire. How she had found them during her research, sought them out, pleaded with them to accept her, and then pledged her life to them willingly when they finally did. As the years passed, she secretly helped them however and whenever she could, but it became too much for her, living a hidden life smothered beneath a false one. She’d had enough.
This would be the day she shed her skin, and became the person who she truly was. Sister Saint. She would give herself to the cult, fully and without regret.
“But what about us?” Catherine asked in a small voice. As strange as all of it sounded, somehow it also made sense. But the little girl in her didn’t want to lose her mother.
They were in the living room, sitting on an elegant sofa. The distant look on Myrna’s face faded, and her eyes focused and she seemed to suddenly remember where she was. She placed her hand on her daughter’s cheek, pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“Oh baby,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Your father and sister are weak. It’s not their fault. I knew he was inferior when I met him, and he’s only become more so over the years, but I myself wasn’t strong yet, not then. Not like I am now. Thanks to Demon-Fire. And as for you…”
“Yes?” Catherine asked.
“You were always strong. I knew it from the moment you were born. You slipped out of me like a warrior, without a single tear, and you latched onto me immediately. You were hungry. Ravenous. For sustenance. For life. Not like your sister, who came mewling into this world, small and scared and needy.”
Catherine felt a rush of excitement at her mother’s words, and then shame. Amanda loved them both so much.
“I saw you,” Myrna whispered loudly.
“What?” Catherine said. “When?” Even though—deep down—she knew exactly what her mother was talking about.
“That night. When you almost choked your sister to death. I was there. In the doorway. And I was so proud of you, Catherine.”
“Proud? For… not doing it? Or—?” She couldn’t finish the sentence. For her part, Myrna only smiled. A shiver ran up Catherine’s spine.
“After you let go, I slipped away,” Myrna continued, “down to the kitchen, when she started screaming.”
At that moment, Catherine’s phone rang and she reached for it.
“No,” her mother commanded. “Not yet. After I’m gone, you will play your part until I reach out to you again.”
Catherine looked at her phone, torn, knowing how distraught her father must have been. The two of them had never been all that close. He seemed to retain most of his overt affection for Amanda, but she loved him, nonetheless.
Finally, the phone stopped ringing.
Myrna took her daughter’s face in both her hands now. “You are my truest offspring, the person most like me in the entire world, and I suspect that you will have more to offer Demon-Fire than I ever will. But first… you must learn.”
She pulled back, stood, and walked across the dark apartment to where she had left her suitcase. Unlatching it, she plunged a hand within. Catherine noticed dark red material among the clothes. A dress? she wondered. Finally, Myrna held up a large, black, leather-bound book and brought it over, placing it on the counter in front of her daughter.
“What is this?” Catherine asked.
“This is The Lesser Key of Solomon, my love,” Myrna answered, reverence in her voice. “Also known as the Lemegeton. It is an ancient grimoire, passed down in the shadows and through the ages, made up of—”
“Five books,” Catherine interrupted in wonder, running her fingers delicately across the cover. “It’s real ?”
“It’s real,” Myrna responded. “And it’s yours now.”
Catherine slowly opened the book to a random page in its middle, ignoring her mother’s soft gasp, and cut herself on the ancient paper. She yelped and pulled her hand away. The book slammed shut as if an unseen force had reacted in anger.
Myrna looked at Catherine’s bleeding finger and then grabbed it, placing it in her mouth, tasting her daughter’s freshly spilled blood. A smile wrinkled her face as she removed the finger from between her teeth.
“You must read the Lemegeton from the very beginning to the very end,” she said quietly. “There are no shortcuts.”
“I… I understand,” Catherine replied, her mind spinning.
Myrna walked over to her suitcase, latched it again, and lifted it from the floor.
“When you are finished reading… experiencing… I will send for you.”
“But how will you know?”
Myrna’s disconcerting smile faded and her eyes grew dark.
“Demon-Fire knows everything, Catherine. Everything.” She turned to leave, but then stopped and looked at her daughter again. “I almost forgot.” Myrna set down the case, reached over, and took off her wedding ring. Held it up for her daughter to see.
“I don’t understand,” Catherine said. “Do you want me to give that back to Dad?”
Myrna smiled. “Oh, my sweet naïve daughter. No. This is no ordinary ring. It was transformed during a Goetian ceremony, after I became a high priestess of Demon-Fire. It contains the fragments of demonic souls, thousands of them. They… they speak to me, but they have also told me that I am not the true Chosen One. That one of my daughters is.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Catherine,” Myrna said, her eyes ablaze. “I believe you are the Chosen One. When the time is right, when you have proven yourself worthy, I will give this ring to you and it will grant you great power. Power to heal, and to destroy.”
Tears filled Catherine’s eyes, but they were tears of excitement, as Myrna put the ring back on, then turned and walked toward the door. Catherine followed despite the pull she felt toward the book that sat behind her. She was desperate to start reading it, but a part of her also wondered if her mother had gone insane. If she would never see her again.
“Mommy?” she called out gently as Myrna walked down the two steps at the end of the hallway and put her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes?” her mother replied, not turning around, her figure silhouetted in the doorframe.
“I love you.”
A long moment of silence stretched out. Catherine thought she could see her mother’s entire body trembling, but she couldn’t be sure.
“There is no more space in your life for love, Catherine,” Myrna said.
And then she was gone.
Before Catherine had time to process what had just happened, her phone rang again. She ran to get it and burst into tears when she heard her father’s strained voice and what he had to say. They were genuine tears, but not for the reason James could suspect. She spoke to him for a long time, pretending she knew nothing, then talked to Amanda, continuing her feigned ignorance. She was surprised how easily lying came to her in a situation like this.
At last, they said goodbye, with promises to meet up the next day, to make plans, to find Myrna and reunite their perfect little family.
Catherine stayed up as long as she could, reading The Lesser Key of Solomon deep into the night, but only got through the first book, the “Ars Goetia,” before passing out on top of it. When she awoke the next day, several of the arcane letters had burned into her face. It was light but it was there. She was forced to use makeup to cover it.
She called in sick to work and kept reading—did the same thing the next day. And the next. After the “Ars Goetia” there was the “Ars Theurgia-Goetia,” then the “Ars Paulina.”
When her boss threatened to fire her if she didn’t start coming in to work, Catherine grudgingly capitulated and went back in, but her heart wasn’t in it. She had found her true calling. She worked
her hours and then rushed back home to continue her reading. The book seemed almost to be calling to her.
The “Ars Almadel.”
The “Ars Notoria.”
Her father and her sister called her constantly, giving her updates on their search for Myrna. She did her best to act like she was as worried as they were, and she soon found herself giving the performance of a lifetime. The fact that she was barely eating and barely sleeping helped. They assumed it was because of her concern for her mother. In reality, it was the all-consuming need to finish the book.
And then finally, she did.
The moment she closed it—a beatific smile on her face, excitement rushing across her body—there was a knock at the door. Catherine leapt to her feet, ran down the hallway, and hopped down the two steps, throwing the door open in a burst of mad exuberance.
“Mom!” she cried.
But it wasn’t her mother. It was Justin. Amanda’s boyfriend. Handsome beyond belief. A smile on his face, too, though Catherine’s faded as she stood in the doorway, her happiness morphing into confusion.
“Justin? What… what are you doing here?” she asked.
“Hello, Catherine,” he said in a smooth voice, like a strong current running over compliant rocks. “Your mother sent me.”
The smile reasserted itself. It was beginning.
She stepped aside and Justin entered. Peering past him, she looked around outside, expecting everyone in the world to know how much she had changed, how momentous an occasion this was, but the world had no idea. It kept going as if this was just another day. For Catherine, however, it was anything but.
She closed the door and followed him inside.
* * *
SHE AND Justin spent the next several days in her bed. He whispered into her ear as they lay coiled together, telling her how Myrna had planted him in their family’s life. He spoke of dark rituals and blood sacrifices and the coming of a great darkness that would save the world. She hung on every word. It wouldn’t be easy. She would have to say and do things that would hurt people, and even kill them, but that was the cost of change. It always had been.
A week later, the phone rang.
It was Amanda. Sobbing. Begging her to come over.
Silently, Catherine cursed her sister. She had picked the worst possible time to reach out so desperately. Catherine was supposed to reunite with her mother, and there was so much preparation needed, but one of the lessons Justin had taught her was that the sheep—people like her father and her sister—must never suspect. That was the cult’s true power. They were everywhere and nowhere. They were the parent, the child, the sibling. They were inescapable.
Catherine arrived at their parents’ home and Amanda threw her arms around her.
“Thank God you’re here,” Amanda said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t reach Justin.”
“Shhh,” Catherine said. “What’s the matter? Where’s Dad?”
“He’s gone. He left. He went after Mom.”
“What?” Catherine barked, panicking. Had her father found out the truth? He wasn’t the brightest man in the world but he was a top-notch researcher. She felt sweat break out all over her body. Were all her carefully laid plans falling apart already?
“He was unraveling more and more, drinking too much, desperate to find her, to save her from that coven. He didn’t even know where he was going… just said he had some clues and was going to follow them to the ends of the earth if he had to. He loves her so much, Catherine.”
“And he just… left you here?”
“He apologized, said he was torn, but he told me I should move in with you, and I think he’s right. I can’t stay here by myself. I’m dropping out of college—just for now, just until they get back. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Catherine froze. It was far from okay. How could she continue her duties for Demon-Fire with this whiny child in her way? Yet there was no way around it. Saying no would raise too many suspicions. She had no choice.
“Of course it is, Amanda,” she said. “Come on, I’ll help you pack. And don’t worry, everything will be okay.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AMANDA’S REAPPEARANCE in Catherine’s life was a surprise in more ways than one. Despite everything that was happening, Catherine found herself enjoying her younger sister’s presence. The two fell back into familiar routines, and Catherine’s life snapped into two entirely compartmentalized halves.
During the day, she would spend time with her sister or at work, at a job she had managed to keep despite the interruption when Justin had appeared. At night, she would descend into the depraved darkness of the cult, finally reconnecting with her mother, learning about Demon-Fire’s means and goals, and enjoying every aspect of Justin, both physically and spiritually.
Amanda and Justin continued their relationship as well, and when they would go on their “dates,” Catherine was surprised to find that she wasn’t jealous. Not like she’d been with Scott. Then again, she’d been a child then. Her eyes hadn’t yet been opened.
She didn’t love Justin, she knew. He was just part of her immersion into Demon-Fire.
On the other hand, the first human sacrifice she witnessed was difficult. Justin held her and whispered words from the Lemegeton, which soothed her and eventually led her to a deeper appreciation of what she was witnessing. The young woman’s death was necessary and, if looked at through the right lens, even beautiful.
Each sacrifice after that had gotten easier. Catherine eventually started participating, and enjoying it. The upper echelons of the cult took notice.
One day, her mother took her aside.
“I am proud of you, Catherine.”
“Thank you, Mother. I live only to serve Demon-Fire.”
Myrna held out an object and Catherine took it gingerly.
“What is this?”
“This is a promotion. You are no longer only Catherine. You are also now Poison-Lark, a name that has been passed down through the generations. A high priestess capable of great and terrible things. This veil covers your face so that you can give yourself freely. When you wear it, your past identity fades away and you represent the full depth and scope of the cult. It is an honor, my love. A great honor.”
“I am humbled,” Catherine said, tears in her eyes.
“As you should be,” her mother responded, “but with this honor comes your most difficult task yet.”
“Anything, Mother. Anything.”
Myrna’s expression changed and she looked at the floor, as if struggling with her next words. When she raised her eyes again, however, the look there was determined.
“Is your sister still a virgin?”
Catherine hesitated. Amanda? What did she have to do with…?
“Is she?” her mother snapped.
“Ye-yes,” Catherine confirmed. She knew as much from Justin, and from Amanda herself. The sad, trusting sister.
“As the virgin daughter and sister of two high priestesses, there is great power in her blood. It is time, Catherine. Deep down, you knew this day would come.”
She didn’t want to admit that it was true… but she felt in her heart that it was.
Catherine nodded.
“While we prepare for the arrival of Arachne, steps must be taken to make certain Amanda is ready for her encounter with the demon. Justin has his orders. You must continue to work with him and make sure that all goes smoothly. And you, as Poison-Lark, will supervise her kidnapping. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Myrna helped her daughter affix the veil to her face. It felt so natural, so right. Her mother also began to put her hair up into a different style than she usually wore. She realized at that moment that it had been her chosen style when she was young. She had forgotten about it. It was tighter. More controlled.
“What are you doing?” Catherine asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel something within herself changing. Hardening.
“No
one must recognize you while you are Poison-Lark—especially your sister. You will reveal yourself to her when the time is right. When her fear is at its absolute pinnacle. It won’t be easy—can we trust you to handle this responsibility?”
Catherine hesitated for only a moment.
“Yes,” she said, staring her mother in the eyes.
Myrna put her hand on her daughter’s veiled cheek, smiling. “I am so proud of you,” she repeated, and then the smile was gone. “Now go. All must be ready for the arrival of Arachne.”
* * *
THE EARLY stages of the plan went perfectly. Justin had continued to insinuate himself into Amanda’s life, and she admitted to her older sister that she was falling in love. Catherine felt bad—slightly—but for her part stayed focused on the task at hand.
Finally, the night of the kidnapping arrived. She had been given a secret space beneath Ravenwood Cemetery in which she would carry out the sacrifice. Arachne had begun to awaken from its long slumber.
Catherine arrived near her apartment, dressed as Poison-Lark, accompanied by two of her new acolytes, including a hulking brute called Diabolik. His breath smelled like death itself but luckily he would be wearing a hood, and there was no question that he would be strong enough to subdue Amanda if she put up a fight.
And then, out of nowhere, he arrived.
Morbius.
He was a nightmare come to life. Which meant that, on some level, Catherine found him incredibly attractive. Yet he immediately ruined their carefully wrought plans, saving Amanda and sending them scrambling.
Fortunately, Morbius was as much a fool as Amanda, and the two of them returned to the apartment, where Catherine was able to take further stock of the man… or whatever he was. He was enigmatic, hard to read, but for some reason he chose to take Amanda under his wing. A stab of jealousy struck Catherine—this was a man of extreme power, that much was clear. Why would he take an interest in weak Amanda when someone like Catherine—like Poison-Lark—was standing there in front of him?
No matter. Amanda’s arrival back at home made it much easier for Catherine to reclaim the advantage. Donning her Poison-Lark persona for the second time, she and her acolytes struck again later that night. This time they were successful in capturing Amanda, despite further attempts by Morbius to interfere.
Morbius Page 12