Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(2)
EVE
The ceremony would begin in a few minutes.
I listened to the people who gathered, felt compelled to peek out from beneath the hood just to know who would stand in attendance of the first true cleansing. But no matter how badly I wanted to know who would stand in witness, I kept my head bowed and out of sight, just as I'd been instructed.
Elijah warned me that it would hurt. Not as bad as the brand I wore on my shoulder, but more than what he did to me in bed. Yet, I didn't fear what was coming. Only because I knew that what would follow would be a release of pressure like I'd never known.
Wickedness is only relieved with pain. And pain is a balm to the sinner's soul. It flays you open, settles inside, and shreds you until there is nothing left.
You're meat, pulled open and tenderized while the pain whistles across you. But once you're clean, once every last ounce of the sin you carry is lifted and banished into the ether, you’re free. A bird flying high. A dolphin gliding through water. You are lost in a moment of pure bliss that is a comforting hug in the warm morning sun.
Only Elijah could give that to me.
Created. Molded. Shaped and formed, I was what he wanted. I was what he alone knew existed inside me. But for all his power, all his wisdom and his strength, he was never able to remove the doubt I carried.
I loved him and feared him. Worshipped him and despised him. I couldn't live without him, even while knowing he would one day kill me.
The shuffling of feet quieted, the soft thud of bodies settling over the pews, and the sharp clatter of keys slapping against the wood from where the rings hung on the parishioners' belts.
Only one set of footsteps could be heard. Low and rhythmic, they approached the altar and pulpit, beats measured by a steady gait, the powerful and seductive walk of a predator.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I thank you for gathering together with me today."
Elijah's voice was a low hum across the room, a soothing melody in a rich tenor, a tone that was as soft as it was fierce. My heart sped at the sound of it.
"I'll start off this meeting with an explanation to those few who were invited. You'll notice there are no women or children in attendance, and the only people here tonight are the few men who I didn't doubt were ready to protect the serenity of their small town."
Grumbles of understanding and murmurs of approval were the harmony accompanying Elijah's words.
His manner of speaking was casual, a group of men discussing simple politics. There was no rush to the point, no emotions beyond the soothing laziness of a well-trained voice. I fell easily into the hypnotic lull of a peaceful summer afternoon just like the others.
Silence for only a moment. Broken when Elijah spoke again.
"I had a female parishioner approach me this week, gentlemen. She came to confess, came to speak in earnest about the sins she'd committed outside of town. I know this woman well, as do many of you. And it pains me to find that she's fallen for the Devil's seductive temptation."
He paused, his voice deepening. "She's possessed, it appears. Possessed by a demon that could infect your children...your wives."
More murmurs erupted, a few sharp inhalations of breath that betrayed the shock felt by a few of the men in attendance.
"We owe it to this woman to help her. More than that, we owe it to ourselves to protect our families from the threat staring us in the face." Another drawn out pause before, "May I speak frankly, Mr. Prete?"
The man's response wasn't oral, but he must have given some indication that Elijah could go on.
"We haven't always seen eye to eye have we, Mr. Prete?"
Another silent answer.
"And I think most of the people in this room know why. But for those who don't, I'll state the facts of the situation as delicately as possible. Annabelle Prete was a good girl. She was a believer in the Almighty, a young woman with a bright future ahead of her. She made her father proud and the town right alongside him. She was going somewhere."
I could hear Elijah pacing slowly to my right, his steps the only sound breaking apart the silence pregnant with trepidation and hesitant interest. It would have smothered me beneath its heavy weight if not for Elijah moving around.
"Annabelle is dead, and between what was said to me in her last confession and what was sent to me by an unknown person outside of town, I'm concerned that the spirit infecting the woman seated next to me was the same one that infected Annabelle."
His steps stopped.
"I won't show the pictures, but I can tell you they were indecent, immoral, and utterly shocking. They were porn, images of a young girl who didn't know she'd lost her way. Disturbing as they were, they only verified what the young woman said to me before she died. More disturbing than that was my behavior toward Mr. Prete following the death of his daughter. I was so full of righteous fury and intolerable regret following Annabelle's death that I'd forgotten the discussion I'd had with Mr. Prete. At least until he reminded me."
I remembered the girl's death, recalled that it changed Elijah in a way I couldn't understand. While I'd always feared the power inside him, I'd been shown a softness I never knew existed. The first few days in the parish, he'd tended to me with a gentle hand. Resisted me until I'd cried believing I'd been rejected.
When he resumed his attentions on me, the first few times had been a caress of healing hands and sensual teeth. But after that girl died, after he witnessed a woman lost to the demons that plagued her, his attentions on me had changed.