Calamity

“Remarkable.”

Ellis had a familiar expression painted on his face, one Dad had given him many times. Pride.

“Dwayne will tell you what you need to do. Don’t be afraid. You are one of God’s disciples now. The way may be dark at times, but in the darkness there is a gateway to the illumination of the soul. It can lead you to wonderful places.”

Brendan wanted to tell him he had heard that before but he kept his mouth shut. This was a serious moment, a solemn one in which he was pledging his loyalty to a cause impossible to fully comprehend.

“The time is now,” Ellis said. “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Dwayne was explaining how to burn a house down.

4

“It’s time.”

Sasha’s voice brought him out of the darkness of sleep. It took him a moment to recall where he was and realize he had to keep the charade going because his plan had not yet hit the crucial part. He had heard a phone ring. Had that been in his dreams? He had to grab the cell. Paul was waiting.

Sasha was wearing her cloak again, standing next to the bed. Chalice in one hand, knife in the other, she smiled. Shadows danced on her face from a lit candle on the nightstand.

“You’ve been out for over an hour.”

He sat up quickly. The sun had set a while ago, darkness only waiting outside her bedroom window. Paul was waiting for the signal; the cellphone was in his jeans pocket. Where were his jeans?

“My clothes?”

She picked up the black cloak draped on the bed. “You need to wear this or my mom will know something’s up.”

“You didn’t throw my jeans in the tub, did you? My sister’s cell was in there.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your clothes are fine.”

He nodded, started to bunch up the cloak to slide over his head. After the deed was done, he could hunt for his clothes. It wouldn’t be good if the police searched the house and found two sets of his clothes. He’d have a lot of difficult questions to answer.

She held out a clear glass with brownish liquid in it. Something fizzed in the water, forming a white cloud. “Here,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Aspirin,” she said. “My mother always grinds it up and puts it in apple juice for me. It’s silly, I know, but it was the only way she could get me to take pills when I was a little kid.”

He shook his head. “I’m okay.”

She smiled. “It’s just pain medication. You’ll thank me later.”

What was she going to do? Why did he need pain medicine?

She tiled her head, smiled with just one corner of her mouth. “For me. Please.”

He drank half the glass and set it down. Beneath the apple taste lingered a bitter flavor that stung his throat. What little kid would drink that?

“Now what?”

“It’s time,” she said.

“How are you going to do it?”

Sasha raised the chalice like a priest about to bless the wine. “It’s all in the presentation.”

* * *

Sasha’s mother was downstairs, kneeling before her homemade altar. The red candles on the table gave the room a sickly glow that made the walls appear swollen. Tyler stopped at the bottom of the stairs, right behind Sasha.

“She’s deep in prayer,” Sasha whispered. “Don’t do anything sudden, she’ll go nuts.”

What constituted “nuts”? This was a woman who had threatened him with a knife, forced him to get naked, burned him with a hot blade. He didn’t see a knife on her altar, so she might have it under her own cloak. If she wielded a blade, Tyler could try to push Sasha into the blade and run. He could call the police and that would take care of everything. It would actually be much more convenient if it went down that way, though a cramp of nausea twisted in his stomach at the notion.

On tip-toes, Sasha approached her mother. Tyler stayed several feet behind her. The time between her steps grew longer and longer the closer she got. Sasha’s mother did not detect them. She sat slumped forward on her knees, head to her chest, her back rising and falling with slow, easy breaths.

Tyler froze with the next step. He heard something, faint, like a whisper only not decipherable. Sasha kept walking; she was only a few feet from her mother. The sound was a steady hum barely detectable. If Sasha heard it, she thought nothing of it. The hum was really smaller vibrations strung together. Those vibrations were words and they comprised a chant.

Or a curse.

“Sasha, wait,” Tyler said in a loud whisper.

She turned toward him, started to make an “it’s okay” gesture when her mother’s head sprung up and back. Her long, black hair whipped over her head and slapped her back with the hard thwap of a punch. The hum that was a nearly silent chant erupted from the woman’s mouth like a fire alarm. The words made no sense and might have been random consonant grunts, but whatever they were they bounced off the walls and reverberated in Tyler’s ears.

… sac rice luff chide …

He had retreated several steps toward the stairs and the safety of the front door beyond, but Sasha hadn’t moved, only covered her ears. She should use the blade to silence her mother once and for all. One swipe across the throat.

Her mother’s nonsensical cry faded quickly. She dropped her head, hair settling around her shoulders, and turned to face her daughter. Sasha lowered her hands, chalice in one, knife in the other. Their movements seemed lethargic, as if in slow-motion.

“This is the moment,” her mother said. Her throat sounded like it was full of rocks.

“Yes, mother,” Sasha said. She held out the cup. “We wish to offer our blood as a sacrifice for the love child we have created.”

Sasha’s mother bowed her head to the cup and then gently took it in both hands. “The Earth Goddess will be pleased.”

Sasha motioned for Tyler to join her. He did, slowly. His previous rush of excitement and sexual energy had fizzled into cold skin and a shriveled dick upon his shrunken scrotum. His legs were heavy, his head light.

When he stopped next to her, she raised her left hand before her and brought the blade of the knife toward her palm. He wanted to tell her to stop but he was too fascinated, or shocked, to say anything. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. Who was this girl?

Her mother moved the cup beneath Sasha’s left hand. The blade sliced into Sasha’s palm. She clenched her jaw against the pain and ran the full length of the blade across her hand. She tilted her hand sideways and blood began to drip off her skin and into the chalice. Each drop plopped into the cup.

“This offering I make to you, oh, mighty Earth Goddess,” Sasha said. “This is my blood, so that you might bless me and my child.”

The blood-drip became a steady stream. Sasha made a fist, stifling the flow. Then she wrapped her injured hand in her cloak and turned her large eyes on Tyler.

His hands were clenched together at his groin. His head grew lighter and lighter and he feared he might pass out. Keep it together. Her eyes softened, pleaded with him. This was the only way, they said. Just a little cut, some blood, and it’ll all be over.

He pried his scarred hand loose and held it out. With her free hand, Sasha’s mother seized his wrist. He pulled back but her grip, and all the weight behind that grip, held him in place. He made a fist, but his fingers didn’t curl completely into his hand. His muscles had gone loose. What was going on?