Ritual
Harley skimmed the unfamiliar faces under the majestic canopy of Muir Woods. Studying the other seven, she assured herself no one came up remotely recognizable. She preferred to stay incognito. All seven strangers were women, who gathered tonight for the same reason. Deep in the mighty redwood forest, Harley attended the first of twelve rituals that would alter her life forever. The other women were talking to one another. Harley stood back in silence. They were nothing more than competition in her mind. The goal was to be the one chosen out of all eight.
A silvery full moon peeked through the massive sequoias. Even in January, a rich earthy scent floated throughout the forest. The hoots of spotted owls echoed high in the treetops. The eerie vibration of sounds had everyone’s hair standing on end. Soon, the seven women will know their sole purpose. Their leader, Maggie, handed out everyone’s responsibilities.
Over the howling, lovesick cries of coyotes in the abyss, Maggie spoke.
“Ladies, ladies, thank you so much for coming. Let’s get started, shall we?”
The chatter quieted down, and the seven hopefuls started paying close attention.
“My name is Maggie, and I am your High Priestess. For the next twelve full moons, we will meet in this spot for our monthly ritual.”
Maggie adorned a floor-length red silk cape over her milky white skin. The contrast gave the appearance of a human radish. The material draped her small frame nicely, exposing an attractive thin build underneath. The hood of the cloak scooped over her wavy auburn hair. Her pouty lips flared a heavy crimson.
Alongside Maggie, sat a lion-sized, well-behaved dire wolf, conveniently named Igor. Dire wolves have been an extinct species for over ten-thousand years, yet there it sat, saliva dripping off five-inch fangs and snarling with every breath it took.
“Please step forward when I call your name. Take your cloak and form a circle around the fire.”
“Jade,” a beautiful overly skinny woman with straight long dark hair sauntered up.
“Jade you are responsible for the candles.”
Jade nodded, helped herself to a white cloak, and took her place facing the flames of the fire.
“Anthelia,” a nervous, frightened woman stumbled on a root when coming forward. Startled, she regained her composure.
“Anthelia we will give you time to get used to things, nothing for now.”
“Ruby,” a heavyset woman with dark shoulder length layered hair rushed over.
“Ruby you are in charge of the mead for the ritual.”
Ruby whispered a sultry “yes,” acknowledging her acceptance. Methodically, she lifted her cloak before settling into her place next to Anthelia.
“Sage,” this woman’s mass of long, red, curly hair cascaded down her back. Her lovely, thin build stood about 5′7.
“Sage, I expect you to bring the mineral stones.”
Sage grabbed a cape and then stood beside Ruby.
“Coco—” An African or maybe Spanish woman with flawless skin now advanced.
“Coco, you are in charge of lighting the fire.”
“Raven—” A petite woman followed suit as the others did.
“Raven, you are in charge of the offering.”
“Last, Harrrlllley!”
Maggie let the name roll off her tongue with a cynical tone.
“I would like you to retrieve the deity statue from my store and bring it here on the nights of the ritual.”
Clearing her throat, Harley agreed. The silky white cape was like liquid to the touch. She situated herself between Jade and Raven around the fire. She appreciated the warmth of the flames that let her escape the chill from outside the circle.
“Okay, ladies, now strip down to nothing and dress in your capes. Ruby, please come help me pass out the mead.”
Excitement erupted during the exchange of street clothes for silky white cloaks. The garment felt cold and sexy against bare skin. Both women handed out sterling silver jewel-encrusted goblets filled with golden mead. Ruby took her place back around the fire.
Harley gazed over the other members in their ceremonial garb. Some were spinning like little girls in pretty new party dresses. Others were admiring the silky fabric by petting themselves. Jade and Anthelia stood naked. The two appeared to be taking pleasure in one another. Breathtaking curvy bodies pranced beside the firelight.
The night went on with drinking and chanting as everyone held hands around the fire. Some of the women were intimate with one another. Between the eight women, a new coven had been born under the blood moon. They had forged the connection needed to secure a bond so tight that nothing can penetrate the circle. In the end, the women would fight to the death to carry the seed of the Nephilim, even going as far as selling their precious souls for the demon to be the chosen one.
Harley’s thoughts traveled back to the moment she received the sign. During Samhain, David planned a surprise trip to New Orleans. It was a gift for her thirtieth birthday. The veil between the worlds stood paper thin during this time. In old folklore, Samhain is the night when the dead are granted passage to walk alongside the living. As far back as her childhood, Harley has always been infatuated with the creepy, the spooky, and the paranormal. David had scored big points planning that trip.
Congestion on downtown Bourbon Street ranked at an all-time high. All sorts of crazy costumes paraded through the streets. Harley didn’t know where to rest her eyes first in the hopes of not missing a beat. Somehow, they had got separated from one another in the crowd. In an effort to call David on his cellphone, she slipped into a small magic shop, Madame Laveau’s House of Voodoo.
Simulating a fairy in flight, the movement of the door chimed a tinkering bell. Frankincense overpowered the tiny shop.
“Welcome, Harley, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Harley’s first response was to run for her life. Instead, she stood frozen in place. A Creole woman with a heavy French accent sat at a table with two steaming teacups. With a captivating smile, she waved her hand toward the empty chair.
“Sit.”
An invisible force took over. Harley’s body floated to the chair opposite the beautiful black woman. Resting on the woman’s head, giving it an elongated appearance, sat a traditional cloth raveled and tied just so. Harley never saw such a vibrant red. Her long, flowing dress also red draped off smooth brown shoulders exposing miles of cleavage. At least ten rows of colored beads hung around the woman’s slender neck. Voodoo dolls, bottles of potions, and strange items were in crazy disarray everywhere all over the store.
“It’s so good to see you, Harley. We have so much to go over. Here, sip your tea before it gets cold, Number Eight.”
Harley lifted the cup to her lips as if in a trance. Her hand shook uncontrollably, spilling the contents all over. Vapors from the potion traveled up her nose, throwing her equilibrium off. The aroma had the distinct scent of rotting flesh. The warm, thick brew slithered down her throat when she swallowed, causing her to gag. Uncontrollably violent coughing followed, making it hard to catch a breath. At some point, she must have completely blacked out. The only thing she could remember was aimlessly stumbling down Bourbon Street like a zombie, shivering.
Later, she found David sitting alone drunk at the hotel bar and a tattoo of the number eight etched on her inner left thigh.
During the rest of their stay, it came to her in haunted, sexual dreams. Bite and claw marks bruised her back and thighs.
When they arrived back in New York, the urges started. An unexplained need for something unknown. Harley sensed something evil had happened at Madam Laveau’s House of Voodoo. Maggie’s mysterious phone call followed soon after.
“Everyone, I would like to make a toast before we head home.” Maggie elevated her arm holding the jewel-encrusted goblet high above her head.
“To the next eleven rituals!”
Echoing Maggie, the seven repeated her chant in unison.
“To the next eleven rituals!”
“At the conclusion of our journey, may the chosen reap the benefits of carrying the seed of the Nephilim? Good luck to all you Ladies—everybody drink!”
Easing off the accelerator, Harley’s BMW shimmied up the cobblestone driveway. David must have already gone to bed. Only the hall light illuminated the inside. Harley crept into the foyer and removed her hiking boots, trying to resist making a sound. Once she was in socks, it was a mad dash for the guest bathroom. Smoke from the fire was embedded in her long dark hair and clothes. A nice hot bath should wash off the odor and bring her back to reality.
Steamy water flowed abruptly from the faucet filling the porcelain tub below. Resting against the tile, Harley took comfort in the gentle sound. Deciding to keep the lights out, she lit a candle to enhance the ambiance, then added lavender. She removed the smoke-ridden clothes and gingerly lowered her body into the hot, scented water.
Thoughts of David raced through her mind. They would be celebrating their five-year wedding anniversary next month. Still, she had failed to give him a child. He had been the love of her life since her sophomore year in college. Harley could never find a man more loving. If all went well, she should conceive this time next year. Unfortunately, there were no intentions to procreate with David. Guilt took over her emotions. She truly loved her husband. If he ever found out about her plans for the next twelve months, their marriage would be over for sure. Still tipsy from the mead, Harley leaned back against the bathroom tile and closed her eyes. Her mind bounced all over the map, rehashing the evening’s events.
The demonic sexual dreams were coming more often, always leaving behind those unexplainable bruises. David had taken her to numerous doctors. Not one of them had a diagnosis or an explanation. One doctor even went as far as to say she inflicted them on herself for attention. In private he politely handed David, the name of a great Psychologist down on fifth.
With an index finger, Harley circled the black and blues invading her thighs. In the beginning, the dreams were terrifying. Later, a strange appreciation grew for the encounters. With sexual desire, she eagerly waited for her demon lover to come rendezvous. Then there was the mysterious figure eight tattoo on her inner thigh. David never seems to ask about it. She couldn’t tell if the other girls wore a similar branding. In a matter of time, David should be asking the hard questions. Would she have the answers?
She watched all the Hollywood movies, heard all the bullshit. In her heart, the calculated risk is all going to be worth it. There would be a one in seven chance her body will carry the seed. Nothing else mattered right now. The votive burned out. Harley continued to soak in complete darkness.
“Harley, Harley!” David’s panicked voice bulldozed her unconscious mind like a Mac truck.
“The water is ice, Harl! You’re going to freeze to death!”
Her coffee brown eyes widened to a blurry haze of a silhouette knelt beside the tub.
“My God you’re shivering! How long have you been in here?”
“I, I d-don’t”
Every word trembled as it skidded off her tongue making the answer barely audible.
“Let me grab this towel and get you out of there!”
“This frigging thing is wedged between the rack and the wall. Come on will ya!”
With a massive tug, the wooden pole cried a squeaky echo as it surrendered. Stumbling back from the abrupt released David made a near escape from tumbling into the icy water.
He swaddled her in the fluffy white towel, while flipping the lever to drain the freezing water. She melted giving into the warmth, as it brought pleasure to her arrested body. The clean scent of detergent drifted into her nose.
Over the gurgling of water exiting the tub, David continued to reprimand his wife’s actions.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you catch pneumonia. What the heck is going on with you? Who does that? Who lies in cold water for hours?”
Trading the soaking tub for a dry toilet cover, Harley gazed at her beautiful husband. 6′2, with a long slender build and strong, broad shoulders. All the curls snipped away from his hair. Instead, he preferred this new cropped style he’s been sporting. The epitome of a born maverick. The ladies swarmed around him in college like bitches in heat, yet he chose Harley. She never understood why.
Adjusting the wire-framed glasses that shifted from their resting place, he paused briefly for an answer. Then began to knot his blue silk tie. The routine always started the same. Firmly spreading both legs a foot length apart as if the task required leverage. With a tight, stressed face, his chin lifted high, simulating Al Pacino in Scarface he would begin. Folding the wide end underneath the narrow, pull the wide end up. With great force the wide end dove back down through the loop. Once the shifting in and out, up and down has been performed. The whole primping of the knot began. Then the grand finale of patting down both sides of his hair and examining his freshly shaven face. First the right, then the left. The whole process stimulated Harley like a primal mating dance.
Today David completed the morning ritual while expressing grave disappointment with his wife.
“This isn’t normal behavior Harl, just isn’t. Ya gotta know that? Ever since we returned from New Orleans, you have been acting like a freak! What the hell did you do at that stupid book club meeting last night anyway? Jeeze Harl, it’s like you’ve gone mad!”
Ignoring his rant like an impatient school girl she shot in a different direction with a response.
“I’m having lunch today at the Himalayan Tea Room with my new friend Jade. Let me have the bathroom now. Okay?”
“Fine but this conversation is not over!”
He turned a menacing gaze toward her forcing eye contact between them. “I’ll see you when I get home.”
Then gave a final inspection in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance David bent down before his wife drawing their bodies close. Assaulted by the scent of a well-starched shirt and men’s cologne, she folded into his embrace.
“I love you, Harl. I do.” He kissed her forehead, letting the moment linger. Ran his palms up and down both sides of the towel to warm her, and then respected her privacy.
The Himalayan Tea Room resided somewhere on Ross Ally. The only Himalayan place swimming in sea of Chinese restaurants, it should have been easier to locate. With no sense of direction, Harley held great respect for GPS.
About eight months ago, David moved them out west to San Francisco from New York City. His Real Estate business grew to astronomical proportions allowing him to expand his license. Having a preference for the warmer weather, she couldn’t be happier.
“Turn left on Jackson Ave.” Harley mimicked the stale monotone robotic voice. Pulling into a municipal parking lot, she decided to walk the rest of the way.
A crippling aroma of Chinese cuisine lingered along the narrow streets. Carcasses of strange dead animals hung from makeshift storefronts. Along with herbs, smelly soups, and weird, green potions promising eternal life. The GPS on her cell phone no longer registered in these back alleys. It made no sense to ask for directions. The merchants spoke very little English. Harley wanted to give up altogether. Then she spotted a sultry woman propped up against a building. Long dark hair cascaded down an emaciated body. She puffed away on a cigarette blowing a cloud of dirty smoke into the air. As Harley approached, Jade greeted her with a smoldering smile.
“Hey, beautiful, you found me.” Bee-stung lips wafted billowing smoke with every word spoken.
“Do you mind?” Harley waved the residual smoke in the opposite direction, “To tell you the truth I almost gave up.”
After shooting a give me a break expression, Jade extinguished the cigarette ambers with the sole of her boot.
“Whatever!” Jade accompanied her response with an eye roll. “Follow me hot stuff.”
Jade’s attire consists of thigh-high boots, skin-tight leggings and a fitted leather jacket resting over a turtleneck. All of these garments were, black and hung off her boney body.
“How have you been since last night?” Okra green eyes smeared with heavy black liner glared Harley down for an answer.
With a slow shake of her head, Harley winced up her face as if fighting a hangover.
“I’m still recovering. How about you?”
“Well, I have a lot of questions, that’s for sure.”
The two strolled several streets before Jade headed down an uninhibited mysterious alley.
“This is where the Himalayan Room is?” Harley’s voice switched tone as she halted. Peering down the entrance of what resembled an escape route to another world, she started backing up.
“Will you trust me please?” Jade cast yet another give me a break expression.
“Where are we going?” The question rolled out of her mouth with inhibition behind it.
“Someplace we can receive some explanations as to why we are voluntarily willing to give up our lives to birth a demon child. Aren’t you the least bit curious Harley?”
“Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t be?”
“Then follow me.”
The two women strolled down narrow paths of masterful stonework. Nestled between towering brick buildings vivid artwork canvased the facade. The noisy street vendors were replaced by muffled murmurs that drifted away. The heels of Jade’s boots clicked in rhythm as she kept up a brisk pace.
In the distance, Harley heard the thunder of splashing water. When they approached closer ornate fountains of naked statues spewed water from their privates. The basins below housed hundreds of majestic colored goldfish. Harley stood in awe as she slowed her steps and stared. Methodically the fish glided through the placid water. Following their movements brought Harley unexplained joy and comfort.
“You can gawk on the way out!”
“Why the rush, Jade?”
“I don’t want to miss this person who may have some answers for us.”
The two women stepped over vibrant flowers, exotic foods, and shiny coins placed everywhere. A cleansing mist lingered throughout the air giving it a crisp, clean scent. For a split second, Harley thought she spotted David laying red roses near one of the fountains with his head bowed in prayer. She almost called out to him when the image vanished in an instant.
“Come on Harley; put some pep in your step!”
Shaking loose from the vision Harley swallowed hard before asking. “Jade, what is this place?”
“Shensheng De Lingham, which means, Sacred Souls.
Supposedly there’s a crazy legend connected to this place.”
After an uncomfortable silence waiting for Jade to answer, Harley buckled.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the legend ?”
“Ross Alley is rumored to be where souls of the dead visit frequently and evil spirits are forbidden to exercise any supernatural powers. This place holds a heavy spiritual presence to the locals. The offerings we are walking over are placed here as a thank you. The fountains watch after loved ones who have passed on. It is believed the dead come to this place because it is safe from evil.”
“Really?”
“Really! Now let’s go!”
Twists and turns finally ended at a red door carved into rock. The sign out front read, Himalayan Tea Room.
A constant sound of running water conveyed the illusion of falling rain. The peaceful atmosphere should have been therapeutic. Uttering a shaky response Harley’s body tightened peering around suspicious of the scene.
“So, um, do they get much business here?”
“Stop being a smart ass.” Jade opened the door and stepped in dragging Harley along with her.“Get in here, Harley!”
“Let me go, Jade!” Both women tumbled to the Tibetan carpet locked in a heated struggle.
With a strained voice, Harley insisted, “I’m getting the hell outta here now!”
“Not until I get some answers! You hear me?”
The two whirled around on the floor wrestling but then froze in mid-struggle from hearing a deep offensive rumbling of someone clearing his throat.
“Ladies, may I help you? The word, YOU dragged with sarcasm.
Dressed in a gaudy rainbow-colored outfit stood a male hostess. Jade rose first, swiped imaginary dust from her clothes, and adjusted her long locks. Ignoring the extended hand, she regained her composure before acknowledging him.
In a calm and collected voice, she answered but never made direct eye contact:
“We have a reservation.”
“Okay then, let me check the book. Under what name is this so-called, reservation?”
“Jade. Jade Fawn.”
The male hostess exaggerated an extended leap over Harley’s body that was still sprawled on the tea-room’s floor.
In his absence, Jade locked in an evil menacing glare with Harley’s coffee-brown eyes. A threatening growl emerged from her tight, thin lips that were accented with red lipstick and clenched teeth.
“Get your-self up now, Har-ley!” The delivery pronounced every syllable. Jade’s bony thumb bounced in sync with the hostile tone.
The hostess soon resurfaced, hands folded in front of him.
“Ahhhhhh yes, you are to be joined by Mr. Tashi. Follow me.” Harley picked herself off the floor and considered bolting towards the exit. Instead, she trailed close behind Jade. The familiar low hum of murmuring was absent in the air. The hostess advanced through the dining room of staring patrons. Judging faces were suspended in silence as the trio passed.
“Here is your table. Your server should be along soon. Please refrain from any shenanigans. Shall we?”
Jade studied the menu mouthing the word W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R, followed by an eye roll.
Carved into the heart of a mountain, the cavern restaurant overlooked the Pacific Ocean on the other side. Saltwater infused with the scent of Cumin Spice floated in the air. The constant sound of waves crashing into the surf settled Harley’s nerves.
Pounding the tip of his pen onto the notepad, the server that appeared before them seemed unsettled.
“Ladies, what can I get you to drink?”
Without deviating from the menu, Jade answered for both.
“Yeah, I’ll take a Chhaang, and she will have the same.”
“What is a Chhaang? Jade, you know I have to drive home.”
“Harley, stop being such a buzzkill. She’ll have the same.”
As the server left to gather the cocktails, the girls took advantage of the time before Mr. Tashi arrived.
Jade leaned closer to Harley, waving her in to do the same. Peering around to make sure no one could overhear, she whispered.
“Okay, really quick before he gets here: Mr. Tashi studies the supernatural and mythology. He is renowned for his work in the search for the Yeti. I feel he may know about the Nephilim and the spell it has on us.”
“Okay, this sounds promising. Old guys that are fluent in supernatural mumbo-jumbo make great lunch dates. Can’t wait!”
“Shush. Here comes Mr. Personality with our drinks.”
“Ladies, your cocktails.”
“We will wait to order. Okay?”
“As you wish.” The server scampered away, attending to other tables.
“Has anyone ever told you-you're a little narcissistic, Jade?”
“Of course! Drink up.”
“The last time I heard ‘drink up,’ a Chet symbol for the number eight appeared on my inner thigh, and I developed a strange sexual attraction to demons.”
Jade collapsed back in her chair. For a split second, she seemed to stare off into space. After taking a long swig of her drink, she cleared her throat before speaking.
“I have a Beht, the Hebrew value of two on my inner thigh. I believe Anthelia may have a Gimel, the number three. When we were naked by the fire, I noticed. It was dark, so don’t quote me.”
The two girls sat and didn’t utter a word for a moment before Harley broke the silence.
“That has to mean Maggie is Aleph, number one. Ruby no doubt is four, Dalet. Sage is Hey and Coco is Vav. That leaves Raven to be Zayin number seven. All of these numbers have meanings in Hebrew symbolism. We need to read up on them. The one who will be chosen may be as easy as finding the clue. Should we try to get in touch with the others?”
Again the girls sat without uttering a word.
An unexpected voice interrupted the deep thoughts brewing between the two.
“Ladies, Mr. Tashi.” The male hostess dragged the empty seat backward and then offered it to the new arrival.
“Hello, I’m Demetrius Tashi.”
The girls glanced up to his sleepy, slate blue eyes.
The Psychical Researcher favored the mighty Greek god Adonis. Dark, chiseled features delivered a striking image. His smooth skin was the color of caramel candy. A rebellious mass of thick charcoal hair possessed a mind of its own as it danced wild on his head. His body was a sculpted solid form. Harley could sense intense warmth travel to her cheeks, forcing her to alter her gaze.
“Um, Mr. Tashi – please, join us.” Jade stumbled on her introduction as she offered the empty seat.
“Please call me Demetrius. How can I assist you, ladies?”
For the rest of the afternoon and numerous rounds of Chhaang, the duo went into great detail explaining their situation. Both girls verified they had attended a festival honoring the souls of the dead. Harley vacationed in New Orleans during Samhain with her husband, David. Jade participated in the Hungry Ghost Festival held in China.
Sitting relaxed in his chair, Demetrius listened intently, his legs flopped open and one arm resting on the back of the seat while the other lay across the table. A complacent expression graced the beautiful man’s face.
Both women went on to say they had been served a beverage laced with a mind-altering drug that caused a lapse of time. Later, when the drug had worn off, each had found a Hebrew numeral scarred on the inside of her left thigh. Shortly after returning home, they received a mysterious call from Maggie, a woman neither of them had known before.
Most importantly, throughout the night, a savage demon lover devoured their bodies. The rape was terrifying, leaving behind bruises that lasted for weeks. Both girls conceded at the beginning to being terrorized by the experience. Soon, they began to crave the encounters and desire the demon’s seed. They were not alone. Six other women shared this fascination. They would stop at nothing to be the chosen one. They would even forfeit their lives. The eight would gather again at the next full moon deep within Muir Woods.
Listening intently, Demetrius appeared familiar with the gruesome tale. In the end, he had only one thing to say. He licked his lower lip slowly before answering.he rested both elbows on the table in front of him and paused. All time stood still. Interlacing his fingers while leaning in, he addressed the ladies.
“If you cross the bridge, you will never return.”
Jade and Harley were still recovering from their intervention with Demetrius Tashi. A month had passed since reaching out to the psychical researcher about the demon that possessed them. Time had not made the devastating information he dished out any less piercing. If Demetrius’s knowledge of this demon was accurate, there needed to be a sacrifice. One of the chosen eight had to be slaughtered by the other seven to please the beast. In the end, even the girl selected to carry its offspring would perish during the birth.
Harley caught an odd vibe during their lunch at the Himalayan Tea Room. Demetrius’s cryptic explanations left too many mysteries and too many unanswered questions.
Her sixth sense shifted into major overdrive. An unmistakable foul odor of distrust and evil permeated off the man the moment he sat down. Against Harley’s better judgment, she dismissed the uneasiness. The eerie sensation that crawled up her spine numbed after the five cocktails she put back. Now that she had time to reflect, the first impression of Demetrius crept back into her thoughts. The opinion has been festering there ever since.
The second gathering of the chosen eight to worship their demon lover was that night. The girls were making their way through a wet Muir forest to join the other six for February’s full moon ritual. The passing of a thunderstorm had left behind a clean, crisp scent in the air. Water puddles made it challenging not to dirty their white ceremonial dresses. Battling the muddy path, the girls heard the muffled cries of a sobbing woman further ahead.
Stars found their way out from behind angry rain clouds and twinkled above. The illumination that beamed off them helped light the way. Under a gleaming full moon, Anthelia came into view.
The girls felt confident that Anthelia had the Gimel, the Hebrew symbol for the number three, tattooed on her inner thigh. They made it a point to find it out that night. Anthelia sat alone in a state of hopelessness, shivering, perched on top of an old tree trunk.
A massive chill in the air made the evening unbearable.
“It’s a cold buck moon tonight, Anthelia.” Harley imitated a bite in her bones, swinging her torso to and fro as she addressed the trembling woman. “R-R-R-R-R-R-R.”
Jade chimed in next. “Come on, Anthelia. you don’t want to be late. Maggie will kill us.”
Her face was concealed, buried beneath elegant hands that sprouted long piano fingers. Impeccably manicured nails the color of powder puff pink shimmered. With the grace of a ballerina, the German beauty removed both hands to reveal a troubled expression. Despair and chaos of desperate times took a hefty toll on her every day impeccable appearance. Black streaks of mascara and eyeliner stained her porcelain face from continuous flowing tears. A mucus-filled nose distorted the sound of her actual feminine voice.
“If Maggie doesn’t destroy us this savage beast will. I would rather someone end my suffering so my soul may enter the gates of heaven. I wish I could destroy myself. I can’t; I’m a worthless coward. Now I’m destined to be slaughtered by a sex-crazed demon and burn forever in hell.”
Landing the spider-legs fingers across her mouth, she inhaled, then let out a cleansing breath slow and long.
Thick, blonde locks fell against a twenty-two-inch waist. Along with creamy white skin, the picturesque woman stood a stunning 5′9. No one would deny Anthelia to be breathtaking. Her generous, round breasts filled out the ceremonial dress in a way any warm-blooded man could appreciate. Even woman found her sexually alluring. Tonight, her mesmerizing robin egg blue eyes were bloodshot and sunken from a lack of sleep.
Anthelia stuttered, trying to catch her breath on every word as she spoke with a German accent.
“I can’t take it. Why am I driven to be here? Why do I come to these woods? I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I want it to stop! Ever since I came back from visiting my mother in Bouaric, it rapes me throughout the night. I’m going mad!”
Jade seized the moment. “Anthelia, tell me: When you arrived home, did you notice having a tattoo on the inside of your left thigh? A marking of some sort, maybe?”
With a face full of horror, Anthelia’s lower lip quivered before she answered,
“Yes. Yes, I do.” The German beauty clutched the hem of her dress starting from the ankle and glided the white gown upward. The silky fabric gathered in the palm of her hand as it coasted against a curvy, sensual leg. With the dress hoisted high around her waist, there it was: the Gimel, the Hebrew number of three, etched into Anthelia’s milky-white inner thigh.
“While attending the Krampus parade, I passed out at some point. When I woke up, I noticed it.” Anthelia gently brushed the tattoo with a quivering index finger. With the sound of despair, her voice cracked as she went into hysterics. Heartbroken eyes rained tears as the painful rant continued.
“Soon after, it started slithering into my bed at night. Then that phone call from Maggie. How did that witch know it was coming for me? This whole situation is so horrific and confusing. Why do I continue coming to these woods? That filthy beast has a spell on my soul. But why haunt me? Why my soul?”
Crumpling up her features in disgust, Anthelia tossed the hem of the garment to the forest floor with force. The hurled fabric landed in a mud puddle, splattering dirty water all over her dress. For a moment, it appeared she was considering wiping off the grime, but then she discarded the idea. Gazing into space as if voices were speaking inside her head, Anthelia stood silently with her anxieties.
Abandoning the mess torturing her mind, she methodically advanced toward the light of the bonfire. Harley and Jade followed. Soon they would be joined by the other chosen five.
