Passion

And being in the form of a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.

Philippians 2:5-8

But God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but will also make a way of escape with the temptation, so that you may endure it.

1 Corinthians 10:13

“You are not holding Mass, Sister?”

The novice’s habit rustled against her legs as she turned to face a freckle-faced young man.

“No... I... I just wanted... it’ll just be a moment.”

“Right.” The attendant turned his back on her, eyeing the shards of glass scattered across the floor. “We’re closed. You should’ve waited until tomorrow. Isn’t there some commandment about ‘Thou shalt not trespass’?”

“I’ll pay for everything. The damages as well.”

The young man grunted, scrutinizing her closely. She was pretty, even though the strict lines of her religious attire hid the curves of her body, but it was the desperation on her face that softened him. Though he took his work seriously, despite the low pay, she hadn’t stolen anything yet, and if he went easy on her, she might remember him. Next time they met, perhaps the virtue of generosity might convince her to show him a little more skin.

He beckoned with his head and left the storeroom. The young woman followed obediently a few steps behind, silent.

In front of the cash register, he scanned each item.

“Hammer... nails... wood... rope... Building a shelf at this hour?”

She didn’t answer, merely mentioned the broken window again.

“I’m not a criminal,” she added, digging through a frayed wallet.

“Relax, insurance will cover it,” he replied, winking.

She didn’t insist and kept her gaze lowered. The assistan had hoped she might lean forward a bit too far, letting her habit slip just enough for him to glimpse the curve of her breasts under her blouse. Or perhaps novices, adhering to their vows of poverty, didn’t even wear undergarments. But she wasn’t inclined to express any gratitude, so he didn’t insist and just gave her the change, watching her disappear through the entrance. “Catholics... they’re nuts,” he thought and, with a shrug, returned to the novel he’d been reading.

Outside, it was cold, but the nun didn’t feel it; a feverish frenzy burned within her. “I must hurry,” was her only thought, “now that prayers can still keep it at bay.” She strode through the labyrinthine streets with determination, weaving past the nocturnal wanderers out to smother their daytime passions, ignorant of the thread on which their souls dangled, until she stood once more in front of the old church. The building lay in an area appart from the city’s usual chaos and confusion. Even the cacophony of vehicles, cries choked from the city’s cancerous lungs and hurried footsteps echoing through nearby alleys withdrew in deference of it, giving way to a respectful silence.

The decaying building greeted her like a faithful servant waiting for the lord’s promised return, despite the changing times. Yet, the sober walls, out of place amid the city’s ostentatious urgency, loomed over her threateningly. She’d always felt like an intruder within this Romanesque relic, and the thing that had slithered up from catacombs older than man had given name and voice to the hostility with which the numerous austere carvings gazed upon her. She knew what would be unleashed upon the world if she didn’t make it in time.

She tore at her hair, angry at herself for wasting precious seconds intimidated by the old temple, and pushed open the heavy iron doors. The squeal of the rusty hinges reminded her of a groaning warning.

Her footsteps roused anxious echoes as she approached the stairs descending below. With her approaching to the steps, she felt a sense of unreality, as if what she was about to face were a macabre dream. However, when she placed her foot on the first step, a faint smell broke through the damp scents of the nave—a ghostly whiff of embers and smoke that dragged her relentlessly back to reality.

In the crypt, she breathed a sigh of relief at seeing her sisters still there, praying with frantic voices around a table filled with various objects: ancient manuscripts, a rusted knife, relics, and a crown of thorns that seemed to glow with its own light. Mother Superior, Sister Bianca, held a Bible that was beginning to smolder. Sweet, beautiful Soledad clutched her rosary as if it were a protective talisman. Valentina stood before a heavy oak door, her usually neat braid in disarray, conveying tension in every fiber of her body. And the beautiful eyes of the slender, muscular novice Leonor had begun to bleed.

“Just in time, Sister Sonia. I don’t think we could have lasted five more minutes. What kept you?”

“I wasn’t fast enough and had to...”

Her response was cut short by the heavy blows shaking the door. A supernatural light filtered through its splintered cracks, which widened with each strike. The Damned One was about to break through. There was no more time to delay.

“This is the moment we entered the Order for, Mother,” she said devotedly. “This is the trial the Lord has prepared for us.”

With determined steps, urgency overtaking her usual meekness, she stripped off her clothes and crowned herself with the thorns. She flinched as they pierced her forehead, and her eyes blinked to keep blood from blinding her.

The other women worked with almost military precision: while Valentina continued reciting Hail Marys before the door, the others hammered together the planks and nails that Sonia had brought. They tried to ignore their sister’s naked body, except for Soledad, who cast furtive glances filled with love and adoration.

At last, the cross was ready. Sonia lay along the beam, allowing her sisters to bind her against the posts. When the Mother Superior positioned the nail on her palm, Sonia met her gaze.

“Are you sure you want it to be you? We could draw lots, you know?”

She shook her head, tears mingling with the blood.

“It needs the blood of a virgin,” she merely replied.

Her superior’s lips pursed at the veiled accusation. Soledad approached and held her hand tenderly. The rosary beads had chafed her palm, leaving red marks on Sonia’s skin.

“I’m also a virgin, sister,” Soledad whispered softly, “and weaker than you. Shouldn’t I take your place? You’d do a better job protecting me than I could for you.”

“Once the Damned One enters my body, I’ll need to hold him long enough for the ritual to finish. The chains that bind him are woven from pain. You don’t endure pain well,” Sonia stroked her cheek, “and you’re far better than I am at the Holy Scriptures.”

“Let’s wait a little, please. Let’s wait for the black seagull. Then I can give you more strength.”

“Soledad,” Sonia scolded, harsher than she intended, “we don’t have time for your dreams. You speak of visions and God’s role for you, but won’t tell me how you’ll gain that strength.”

Soledad blushed, hiding her gaze under her lashes, muttering an inaudible “I don’t want you to judge me.” Sonia touched her lips with her fingertips.

“Don’t worry. Everything that could be done has been done. God will provide.”

“Let’s hope so,” a voice called from behind them. “The world’s fate depends on you holding out long enough.”

Leonor’s lament interrupted their conversation. Soledad glared, but Sonia understood. Of all the sisters, that athletic woman was the strongest and would best withstand the Damned One’s onslaught. Sonia knew Leonor felt helpless not to be the one bearing the agony on the cross. But as she had said before, the power of the blood only held if it came from a virgin, ruling Leonor out for the sacrifice. The tall novice wiped her blood-streaked cheeks and gestured at her sister on the cross.

“You must be strong—for us. For those who could do better but aren’t deemed worthy.”

Before anyone could respond, the door’s pounding grew louder. Dust and sand trickled from the ceiling as Valentina turned to them, strangled voice full of desperation. The penitent on the cross nodded to the Mother Superior, who struck with the hammer. Sonia’s cries pierced the walls. With each blow, she clutched Soledad’s hand more tightly, her screams echoing in the room.

When it was over, Sister Bianca moved to Sonia’s other hand. Soledad clung to it, eyes wide with dread, looking at her superior. The older woman gestured impatiently.

“Move aside, child, we’ve no time.” She impatiently shock her hand and beckoned to Leonor, “help me.”

Sonia forced a smile through clenched teeth. “Don’t worry, sister. All will be well,” she reassured while Leonor held her arm agains the patibolum —the wooden piece which crossed the Cross horizontaly.

To her surprise, Soledad pressed her lips softly to hers in a timid kiss. Sonia’s eyes widened, uncertain, yet she didn’t reject it. Leonor looked away while the Mother Superior, biting her lip, hammered in the other hand. Sonia’s moans were muffled in Soledad’s throat, mingling with the tears her sister shed, which slipped down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth.

When both hands were nailed to the cross, Sonia felt the tip of the third nail press against her instep and she reflexively pulled her legs up. Leonor took her by the ankles and violently stretched them out again, pressing them against the stirpes, the vertical beam of wood.

“Come now, Sister Sonia, are you really going to reject your sacred role at this point?”

That bitter reproach lit a restrained spark in Sonia’s eyes. The Mother Superior censured Leonor with a look, and Leonor had the decency to appear contrite.

“This is neither a competition nor a privilege,” Sister Bianca told her. “You are sisters, and your mission should transcend your rivalries. Who knows how the night will end, or what offenses we may regret having hurled at each other?”

The two novices looked at one another.

“You’re right, Mother. I shouldn’t have let frustration cloud my understanding. Forgive me, Sister.”

“Don’t worry, Sister Leonor,” Sonia replied, then added with a sly smile, “We all know that, if it weren’t for that slip-up years ago, you would have been the chosen one.”

A blush rose to the novice’s cheeks at Sonia’s words, and Sonia immediately regretted saying them. It was her turn to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Leonor. Pay no mind to me. It’s only fear speaking.”

Leonor would have answered, but at that moment the Mother Superior struck again, and Sonia cried out as the nail pierced both feet and sank into the stirpes. Even when no fresh blows came, the novice on the cross continued to scream.

“We mustn’t delay. Forgive me, my daughter.”

Sister Bianca fell silent, and, gesturing to the other nuns, took hold of the cross and began to raise it. Sonia whimpered with each jolt, cries that could have been either agony or ecstasy. Blood from her wounds in her hands and feet began to pool on the floor. While Sister Bianca and Leonor began to pray softly a few steps away, Soledad did the same, clutching the penitent’s knees. All three recited different prayers, a tangled desperation that held a certain beauty.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters...” chanted Sister Bianca, her voice thick with emotion.

“Of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked advance against me to devour me, my enemies and my foes…” Leonor murmured, taking a hesitant step back.

“Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way, and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea…” Soledad sobbed, looking up blindly.

Suddenly, as Valentina cried out a warning, the doors burst open, and a flame shot into the room. The force knocked all the nuns off their feet and brought the cross crashing down, pulling another groan from Sonia. The fire did not spread wildly but twisted and writhed as though it had a will of its own, as if it were searching for something very specific. Sonia opened her mouth to scream, but instead of emiting a sound at all, the flames entered her throat and vanished completely.

Then Sonia began to tense, clinging more tightly to the nails that held her to the cross. She writhed, her movements threatening to tear her flesh as she struggled to free herself from her bonds. Through gritted teeth, desperate sobs slipped out, and her increasingly violent convulsions threatened to splinter the wood.

Leonor struggled to her feet and made her way over to Valentina, who was nearby. A trail of blood ran from the novice’s forehead down to her nose.

“Quick, Valentina!” she shouted. “We have to keep the Damned One inside Sonia for as long as possible!”

“Soledad… the Mother Superior…” Valentina murmured.

On the cross, Sonia’s body seemed on the verge of levitating, with sudden jerks.

“They’re unconscious; we can’t count on them. It has to be us. Sonia looks about to lose control. We need to spill more blood to strengthen the bonds.” Leonor hurried to the side of the cross and grabbed the knife lying on the floor. “I’m sorry, Sonia. It’s nothing personal.”

Suddenly, before the blade could slice into Sonia’s skin, she opened her eyes—but they were no longer eyes. They were two pyres, burning with a fire more intense than anything Earth had ever known: they were fueled by the deepest furnaces of Hell. Leonor froze in terror, and then Sonia, or whatever she had become, tore one of her hands free with a wet, sickening sound. The nail still pierced her palm, the twisted tip protruding from the back.

“I see. Neither this is, sister.”

She spoke with a voice that was Sonia’s but also something else’s, something older than time itself. Then, she drove her fist into Leonor’s stomach—once, twice, again and again—with each punch, the nail’s point stabbed into the novice’s abdomen, drawing a choked gasp from her. Seeing Leonor being attacked, Valentina finally reacted, stifling a cry as she threw herself at the crucified one’s free arm, hoping to prevent her from continuing the assault. What had once been Sonia turned her head to look at Valentina, who stopped, transfixed by the well of promises in those fiery sockets.

“I can see your desires, sister,” the voice purred, a sound like chiming bells, “the love you seek in your sisters and the sighs you keep for the one you’d never confess it to. I may not be Leonor”—at that moment, she tore the nail from her other hand and held Valentina’s face tenderly—“but I know you’ve thrilled to imagine me naked. Well, here I am.”

Tears ran down Valentina’s face as she kept her gaze locked with the entity’s. Beside her, Leonor had fallen to her knees, clutching her stomach. A brownish stain began to seep through the black and white tones of her habit, spreading down her hips and legs. At her feet lay the knife she had wielded, now too weak to lift it again.

“Don’t listen to her, Valentina,” she croaked, then turned to what remained of Sonia. “Fight it, you damned fool. Show me I was wrong.”

The creature let out a supernatural scream, convulsed, and for a brief moment, the flames in her eyes went out, revealing Sonia’s pupils again as she returned to humanity. The penitent looked at her trembling sister, clutching her head, and could only mutter a soft “I’m sorry” before the embers reignited in her sockets. Then she pushed with both hands, driving the spikes of the nails into either side of Valentina’s neck. Helpless, Leonor could only sob “No!” as blood began to trickle from the wounds, and from the nun’s half-open mouth and her eyes.

Valentina didn’t even groan. Her lips curved into a smile as her killer pressed her mouth to hers in a hungry kiss. While choking on her own blood, Valentina’s fingers traced the being’s body, from her neck downward, over her bare breasts, past her flat stomach, until she plunged her index and middle fingers into the Venus mound and deeper.

The being arched with the pleasure of the dying novice’s touch, and, tensing her muscles, freed the last nail that held her to the wood—the one in her feet—and finally broke free of the cross. She spread her arms and released the body, which fell to the stone floor with a dull thud. Valentina lay in the ever-growing pool of her own blood, and Leonor crawled toward her, still clutching her stomach. When she reached her, she rested her head on her lap and adjusted her braid as best she could, like she did when they were alone in the cell. Her sister tried to speak, but a bloody foam bubbled from her lips, and she couldn’t form a word.

“Hang on, silly girl,” Leonor whispered between sobs. “We’ll get through this.”

Valentina gave a faint smile, her lips stained with death, and stared at the ceiling without blinking. Gently, Leonor laid her head back on the ground, her eyes now filled with hatred as she glared at the naked figure of Sonia, who was pacing slowly around her. Blood droplets fell from the holes in her hands, and her bare feet left crimson footprints with every step.

“I knew you wouldn’t be strong enough,” Leonor spat, her voice choked with despise. “I knew it was a mistake to place all our fates on your shoulders.”

The blazing eyes seemed to smile, though the lips showed no joy.

“Poor, poor Leonor,” the entity sing-songed. “Strong and brave, yet weighed down with burdens that keep you from shining. You should be thanking me. I’ve freed you from your unrequited love, which only made you angry and bitter. How many times did you reject Valentina’s clumsy advances? For her, every word of disdain from you was like a knife to the heart. Killing her was an act of mercy; letting her wallow in sin, to love Sonia, was a gift, even if it wasn’t you.”

Those words were more than Leonor could bear. With an animalistic howl, she grabbed the knife and lunged at Sonia, who, as quick as lightning, seized her attacker by the throat with one hand. With the other, she disarmed Leonor and tore the novice’s bloody habit to shreds, baring her vigorous, exposed body.

“Sonia sometimes spied on you when you bathed, did you know that?” the being whispered in the nun’s ear. “She often fantasized about enjoying your touch. How about we make that wish come true?”

Leonor was still clutching her stomach, and with her clothing removed, one could see her intestines striving to escape the gaping wound in her abdomen, between her clawed fingers. A weak moan struggled to escape her throat, gripped by the creature’s fingers, and she nearly managed to grasp her tormentor’s face, leaving a smear of her own blood trailing from Sonia’s forehead to her chin. This time, the girl’s lips did curve into a smile.

“Well, she’ll just have to settle for this.”

And then, she drove her fist into the woman’s gut again. But this time, the nail caught on her intestines so that, when the being violently yanked her arm back, they spilled out of the open cavity. The creature wrapped the viscera around her wrist and, gazing at them with almost scientific curiosity, held them before Leonor’s gaze, blurred with shock and agony.

“Look at the mess you’re making,” she mused, pursing her lips and glancing upward, as if deciding something of great importance, while Leonor’s punches against her chest grew weaker and weaker. “Think I should let Sonia see you like this? After all, you both despised each other, and it would be her last chance to see you naked. To even see your insides.”

She tilted her head back, and when she looked forward again, she was human once more—a young, terrified girl who gazed in horror at her hands, covered in blood and entrails. Realizing what she had just done, she fell to her knees and clawed at her cheeks as she howled in horror. Leonor collapsed beside her, still trying to stuff her intestines back inside.

“Sonia…” she murmured weakly. “Sonia… you have to win this fight… for us…”

Her limbs twitched in death throes. Her hand went limp, and her guts spilled out again with a wet splatter. In her last moments of awareness, Leonor felt her bladder empty, forming a pool beneath her hips. She tried to say some last words to Sonia, forgiving her for not being able to control the spirit of the Damned One, but from her parted lips came only the sighing breath of her final exhalation.

Sonia continued to sob, her crazed gaze shifting from her bloody hands to the broken body beside her. Leonor’s eyes could see nothing now, and her mouth still held the rictus of the pain she had suffered in her last moments. Her sister rested her head in her lap and cradled it tenderly, pushing her spilled intestines back into her abdomen. She gave up after a few failed attempts, crying harder as she failed to give Leonor a more dignified appearance in death.

“Oh, sister,” she muttered. “Good ridance it had to be me the one who bore this burden.” Her gaze drifted to Valentina’s body, sprawled a few steps away. She crawled over to her, but there was nothing more she could do than mourning over her corpse. “And you, Valentina… how weak I am, to be unable to stop even for you…”

“We all knew the dangers we faced, child.” Sonia turned to see Sister Bianca standing behind her, holding a crucifix. She was trembling from head to toe, though her voice was steady as she began to recite, “In the name of Almighty God, I command you to leave this plane, to return to your prison in the Fifth Circle of Hell, and to never return here again.”

Once more, Sonia’s pupils disappeared under flames that reignited in her eyes, and the novice bared her teeth, hunching forward like an animal about to strike. The Mother Superior did not flinch and continued her invocation. The entity let out a shriek that echoed with a suffering older than humanity itself and fell to her knees. Sister Bianca stepped forward decisively, towering over the Damned One. From the depths of Sonia’s throat came a guttural voice that was nothing like the novice’s.

“Don’t think a few words can banish me, bitch. I’ll kill you and your little band of whores first, and then I’ll bring my reign to this pathetic world.”

“I curse you in the thousand names by which you were chained in the first millennium, and in your true name, Altiel.”

As she uttered the last word, the nun’s eyes seemed to cloud over with a black veil, while the possessed novice let out another blood-curdling scream and covered her ears. Watching the young woman’s convulsions, the Mother Superior hesitated, but her words continued to flow as smoothly as ever. When Sonia spoke again, it was her voice that was heard through clenched teeth.

“If you destroy me, you will also destroy your favorite pupil. Look at me, naked as you always wished—don’t you want to savor the youth of her body?”

The prayer faltered for a fraction of a second, then resumed in a higher pitch.

“They despise you in Hell, where even they are ashamed of your actions; Beelzebub despises you, Lucifer despises you, Satan despises you; all the choirs of demons in the sixty-six circles despise you.”

“Because it’s clear the others are dispensable, but what about your Sonia? Won’t your nights of self-satisfaction feel a bit empty?”

Each word seemed to come out with more difficulty than the last. The novice began to add something more, but instead vomited a jet of black blood onto the floor. Sister Bianca wept as she continued her recitation. With supreme effort, what was once Sonia managed to utter one final phrase, raising her head to look her former teacher in the eyes.

“Do you think Sonia has forgotten when, at thirteen, you crept into her bed?”

The verses weaving through the psalm became erratic as the other woman stammered, and Sonia slumped as if invisible bonds had suddenly loosened. Before the Mother Superior could regain her composure, her former pupil lunged at her and, quicker than the human eye could follow, slammed her against the wall. The crucifix slipped from the nun’s fingers, but the young woman caught it in midair and forcefully drove it into her victim’s neck.

Blood poured abundantly from the wound, staining the wall and covering the figure of Christ on the cross. Sister Bianca gazed in a daze at Sonia, who displayed a fierce smile through the rivulets streaming down her face.

“If you had asked her, she would have gladly agreed to resume your touches. Did you know that?”

The nun’s lips moved, but no words came out. The Damned One stroked her breasts with sadistic lust, then lifted her habit and tore her undergarments, exposing her intimate parts.

“Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll help you atone for your sins.”

From among the young woman’s pubic hair, finer and sparser, something began to rise: An erect and steaming penis, with the tip shining from the fluids that could not be contained. Sonia’s hips struggled to separate the Superior Mother’s legs and, when the member approached her vulva, the mount of Venus hissed and crackled. At last, once that hellish dick found the entrance, the novice pushed and the scream that Sor Bianca cried sounded as if she had been stabbed with a red-hot skewer. Sonia buried her face in the neck of the dying woman in order to drown out her wild moans and grab the right sine under her garments. As she fucked her, the belly of the Mother Superior was illuminated by an impossible fire, and through the skin, it was perfectly clear how the intestines began to twist and consume themselves. While Sonia sobbed with passionate ecstasy, the other woman coughed up blood that splattered the novice’s body. At one point, the novice pulled back on her victim’s hair so that she would look at her intently.

“Hold a little more, you prostitute, hold until I’m done, hold, ho… oldddd”

The thrusts grew more violent and rapid. Blood was already sliding between the thighs of the nun in thick, dark streams, and the skin of the stomach and pubis began to steam, a dense smoke rising along the naked, glistering torsos of the two women until it veiled those eyes locked on each other—the two fiery and eternal from what had been Sonia, and those of Mother Superior, contracted in agony and horror. At last, the novice pushed her hips forward and, without breaking her gaze from Sister Bianca’s face, opened her mouth in a mute plea, her cheeks flushing as she gave a sharp pull, releasing the crucifix with an inhuman screech.

A torrent of crimson spattered around, scarlet rivulets draining from the nun, whose body collapsed, writhing in spasms that grew weaker, as the fresh jets grew fainter. Until she moved no more, and the blood began to spread with a slow, steady cadence.

Sister Bianca lay with her skirts lifted to her abdomen; her belly had blackened, and the scent of burning spread through the chamber. Her killer stood over her, letting the drops of semen still oozing from the erect member fall upon the fallen body. When they landed on the corpse’s hips and pubis, a sizzle could be heard, and a sweet, deadly fragrance joined the bitter, dense fumes of the pyre.

Sonia, however, was oblivious to what was happening around her. Still breathing heavily, she stared doubtfully at the bloodied crucifix. At last, she smashed it against the wall, breaking it into three pieces, and with a shrug, headed for the tunnel leading outside.

“Is this the end?” a small voice sounded behind her.

The Damned One turned unhurriedly, full of self-assurance, preparing to face the lone surviving woman. The latter finished adjusting Sister Bianca’s garments to cover her nudity and stood up. Standing in the middle of the room, Soledad cut a small, insignificant figure against the macabre scene of the other nuns’ corpses. The few candles still lit could barely illuminate the space around the flame, and the darkness grew thicker, swirling around the Damned One’s figure. Despite the scene, the novice raised her chin defiantly and, though her entire body trembled, held her ground firmly.