Absence of Faith (21 page)

"Ah...one of the devil worshippers
told me it was the Magus' name," he said weakly.

"Don't lie to me. You went to one
of their meetings without me, didn't you? The only time his name
would be mentioned is when they are going to appoint a new high
priest. Who is the candidate?" she asked furiously.

Kyle hesitated. The fear swirled
around inside of him like a wind-blown smoke, and then it was
whisked away and replaced with anger.

"I am," he said
defiantly.

"You?" she shouted. Her eyes were
white hot. "You? What kind of person are you? I thought you and
me...I thought we had something special together. Those people are
dangerous...evil! Get out! You disgust me!"

Kyle's cold stare pierced Chantress
like a bullet. The blackness she had seen earlier intensified and
penetrated into her soul with icy precision.

"I need one more thing before I
leave," Kyle said in a tone she had never heard before.

He moved closer and she backed
away.

"I said get out!" she
screamed.

She slowly moved her hand towards
the wooden spoon on the counter. When he reached for her and she
grabbed the spoon and brought it down hard catching his
wrist.

"Ahhhhhh! You bitch!" he
screamed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to!" she yelled.

Kyle looked up at her his eyes on
fire and the muscles in his face twisted in pain and anger.
Chantress turned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She slammed
the door in his face, but his foot caught the door and he wedged
his way in. He pushed her down on her bed and slapped her face
several times. Then he grabbed her breasts and pulled her close to
him forcing his lips on to hers. She tried to push him away, but
the pain in her chest was too much. His eyes were filled with
hatred. He released his grip slightly and pulled her shirt upward.
Buttons popped off in all directions and her sore, red breasts were
exposed. She raised her hand and swung it hard hitting him on the
side of the face. His eyes widened. She pushed him off and he
rolled off the side of the bed hitting his head on wall as he fell.
She darted toward the door, but he lurched out and caught her
ankle. He moved his hands up her leg, pulling her towards him like
a hungry animal. She kicked striking him on the bridge of his nose
and he let go. She grabbed the cordless phone in the living and ran
into the kitchen towards the back door. She dialed 911. It seemed
to take hours before she heard a ring, but it was only a few
seconds. She heard Kyle leap down the stairs and then there was a
loud crash. She heard two rings, and then the phone went dead. Kyle
entered with the base of cordless phone in his hand, wires dangling
ominously. She threw the receiver at him, watching it hit him in
the forehead and bounce off as if his head were made of rubber. She
watched it all in slow motion. He grabbed her, pinned his arms
around hers, and dragged her into the living room. He threw her
down on the sofa, reached down and tore her panties off, then
pushed her legs apart. She stopped struggling for a moment as she
remembered her chances of survival were better if she didn’t
resist, but then her anger rose when he pulled his underwear off
and attempted to penetrate her. She thrashed and fought to keep
moving so that he could not get into her, but she felt him slide
partially into her vagina. She was shocked to realize that her
vagina was soaked. Maybe, it was blood; maybe she was cut there.
Maybe, he had a knife she didn’t see. Her wild thoughts vanished
like a dust cloud on a windy day when the room filled with the
chimes of the doorbell. Kyle froze for a split second and Chantress
pulled back her arm and slammed her fist into his nose with all the
anger and fury that grew from the thoughts she had just had. It was
like a great burden being released from her because she wasn’t
comfortable with those thoughts. Blood poured from his nose and
splattered on her breasts making large red sickening blotches. She
looked into his eyes and saw that the blackness had been replaced
with fear, disillusionment and mostly surprise. She pushed him off
and watched as he rolled and hit his head into the side of the
coffee table moving it a few inches. She ran to the door and
started to unlock the deadbolt, but suddenly something was holding
her back - a fear spread throughout her body like black smoke
filling a room. Kyle, still dazed, pulled her away from the door.
The doorbell rang again, and Chantress' adrenaline peaked. She used
the new energy to free one arm, swing it around landing her clawed
hand on Kyle's left cheek. She pulled down hard ripping his flesh
like paper. She could feel some of his skin bunching up under her
long nails. His grip fell off and she saw him grab his face in
agony. She ran into the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a
metal ladle. Kyle rushed in behind her and she swung it
horizontally striking him in the ear.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" he yelled. "I'll kill
you, bitch!"

"Go to hell, you bastard! Get the
hell out!" Chantress screamed back, her voice like an
explosion.

Kyle smiled hauntingly. He grabbed
her, swung her down onto the kitchen table, and spread her legs
apart again. Chantress did not struggle as much this time. He held
her hands down with one hand pressing all of his weight on
them.

"What's the matter? Tired? Bitch,"
he breathed into her face. His breath was like a blackness that
swallowed her face.

The long cuts on his cheek and the
dark anger in his eyes turned him into a beast from hell. She
looked away. She let him penetrate her and waited. Then she felt
hotness inside of her and Kyle's weight on her hands eased up. She
instantly pulled one hand free and her arm swam in the air like a
wild snake with its tail caught. The wild snake coiled back and her
hand formed a fist. The snake moved forward with all of her force
and struck Kyle in his left eye. He fell backward and onto the
floor. He covered his face with his hands and rocked and moaned.
The second blow had reopened the cut in his nose and blood oozed
out between his fingers and dripped onto the white tiled
floor.

Chantress bolted for the living
room, rushed towards the fireplace, picked up the pointed
andiron.

"Now get out, you bastard!" she
screamed holding the iron in a strike position.

Kyle was silent as he moved slowly,
gathering his clothes and his pride. He put them on just as slowly.
He was dazed from Chantress' blow and his nose bled slightly. As he
walked toward the front door, he turned and looked at Chantress
still poised in the attack position by the fireplace.

"Bye, bitch," he said. The
blackness she had seen earlier had completely engulfed him and now
there was a devil in her house. She shivered at his words. When he
left, she rushed towards the door and locked it. Then she sat down
on the sofa and thought about calling the police, but it didn't
seem like a good idea since her parents would find out about Kyle
spending the night there, she thought. Besides, many date rapes are
thrown out of court since everyone sides with the accused. She
battled with the decision over and over, and then finally decided
to forget the entire horrible experience. Besides, she had her
revenge - he probably had a black eye by now, she thought, and he
was pretty beaten up, and that was good enough for her. Suddenly
and without warning, her chest heaved and tears rolled down her
face. She had gotten even with Kyle all right, but she had also
lost what she thought was a special relationship. The pain in her
chest and heart was more intense than the burning of her groin. She
cried for quite a while, and then headed upstairs to shower and
wash away her grief. In the shower, the thoughts she had during the
struggle crept back into her mind and she couldn't understand why
she would have liked any part of the ordeal. Maybe it was sexual,
maybe emotional; maybe she could not accept how Kyle was acting and
how he could treat her in such a way. Perhaps, she could not face
being deceived and knowing that Kyle was capable of violence in a
most horrendous and cruel way. She wanted to believe that whoever
it was, it was not Kyle that he was not himself, and that he would
have stopped at some point dazed and confused, and say he was
sorry, very sorry. But in her heart of hearts she knew that what
she experienced was Kyle's true self waiting just under the surface
to erupt and declare itself to the world. She watched the silvery
water run down her sore and bruised body along with her tears that
melted into the water unnoticed.

* * *

Kyle had trouble seeing out of his
blackened eye as it quickly swelled shutting out most of the light.
The pain shot across his face and into the back of his head with a
constant throbbing and pounding. When he arrived home, he wrapped a
few ice cubes in a towel and placed it on the bruised eye. He put a
large bandage on his raw cheek and fell onto the couch, closed his
eyes and thought about the following Sunday. He clearly knew what
he was going to do - his conscience no longer conflicted with his
desires. His vision was clear.

T
he next
meeting of the Daimon Seclorum was held the following week and Kyle
arrived late. When he descended into the basement of the Magus'
house, the room was half-filled unlike the Black Mass he attended
weeks earlier. The Magus was at the makeshift altar waiting and
Kyle took a seat in the front row next to the thin woman with red
hair who was with the Magus when they visited his apartment. Her
hair was not tied in a ponytail, but flowed down her back like a
shimmering red waterfall. She looked at him and smiled. He
half-smiled back not sure how to interpret her
friendliness.

"Tonight my friends, we experience
a monumental event, an awakening to the power we seek, a new, more
powerful path. Tonight we will rejoice!" shouted the
Magus.

The woman with the long red hair
stood and walked around the Magus. He handed her a robe folded to
the size of a hardcover book.

"We have a new high
priest...Hermes, lord of the darkness," he said.

The Magus went over to Kyle, lifted
his arm, and turned him towards the audience.

"With this robe, I grant thee the
power, Hermes," he said. "Do you accept?"

"Yeah...yeah, sure," Kyle
said.

"Then let it be so," the Magus
replied.

"Let it be so," the audience
repeated. "Let it be so."

The Magus went back to the altar,
opened a silver box, and took out a silver cup and two plastic
hospital bags filled with blood.

"Tonight, we taste the blood of
humans to celebrate our new leader," the Magus said.

The audience watched trance-like as
the Magus poured the blood from the plastic bags into the large
silver cup and then lifted the chalice over his head.

"To the new high priest of the
Daimon Seclorum!" he yelled and brought the cup to his
lips.

He handed the cup to Kyle and Kyle
tasted the blood in a similar fashion. The group let out low sighs
and bowed before Kyle. He smiled back at the small gathering and
then handed the cup back to the Magus. He filled it again and then
gave it to a round, plump woman sitting in the first row. She
sipped from the cup and handed it to a man sitting next to her.
When the cup returned to the Magus, he nodded to the woman with the
long red hair. She took Kyle by the hand and led him to a tiny room
behind the altar. They slide past a cloth curtain into the tiny
room, lit by red and black candles. A worn, green sofa sat against
the naked cinder blocked walls like a lazy, sleeping dog. The women
untied her robe and let it drop to the floor - revealing her body.
Then she undressed Kyle and led him to the couch. Kyle was careful
not to let her place him in a vulnerable position. When they began
having sex, Kyle maneuvered so that he would be on top. The woman
didn't speak a word - she only moaned. The old green sofa growled
like an aggravated dog under their weight and Kyle was oblivious
the moldy odor that puffed out of the dogged sofa.

When they emerged from the small
room, the crowd applauded. Kyle flinched as if a swarm of bats had
attacked him. Then he smiled.

"That officially makes you our
newest high priest, Hermes. You are now one of us. Power to
Hermes!" the Magus announced.

"Power to Hermes!" the group
repeated, and then they bowed to Kyle.

"This is unbelievable!" Kyle
said.

"No it isn't. It is your destiny,"
the Magus said.

F
ather Keith
McDuffy knelt, made the sign of the cross, and went to the pulpit
to the left of the altar. He opened a large missal and read a
gospel from Saint John. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under
his eyes were larger than normal. Holy Mary's Roman Catholic Church
was packed to capacity - the ushers had to patrol the aisles
several times to make sure there were no empty spaces in the pews
taken up by someone's purse or hat. Father McDuffy cleared his
throat - the sound echoed throughout the church's public address
system like an explosive noise. The parishioners fell
silent.

"It seems rare that we have
standing room only on such a warm, beautiful day. But I know it is
last week's events at the Methodist church that has everyone
concerned. I can assure you that God has not abandoned us - those
with strong faith and beliefs in the Almighty have nothing to worry
about. God has not forsaken you if you believe," Father McDuffy
said.