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Lorelei
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The fire blazed hot. Flames danced orange and red as they kissed the faces of all who stood before it. I glanced around at those waiting in anticipation for what was to come. The brightness in their eyes appeared blissful: calm and waiting. I placed my hands to my heated cheeks. My skin burned and throbbed painfully as though it might melt right off. Hot flames embraced melted flesh, piercing my body. I welcomed the pain.
Pain made me strong. Pain was a sacrifice for living a free life; a life I lived with Jameson. We were free from an overbearing church previously shoved down our throats since before we could walk. Free from the idiotic rituals of a social culture that worshipped a god who deserted them.
Freedom was bliss.
Our black cloaks hung low to the ground as Jameson and I walked through the darkness. The quarter moon hung in the sky like a beacon to our souls. It tugged at us. Surrounded us. Guided us toward the power we needed to harness.
Our followers stared excitedly at the fire. Their satanic cries filled the woods that enclosed us. Everywhere I turned, there were trees, endless rows of trees. I watched as they swayed whenever the howling wind whipped through. Nature was our connection to the lower realm of hell—our tether between this world and the next. Mother Nature knew what we were doing, and she opened her arms to us, embraced the need to worship the almighty Lucifer.
We had found our followers over the years and every day I saw beauty in their eager eyes, their open arms. But at that moment, the beauty I saw were the flames stroking their delighted faces. They had devoted themselves fully to our cause, to our mission. We had gathered to show the world that their prior religion was a farce. To show the world that those religions were a mask pulled over our faces to shield us from reality. The reality being that the world we lived in was godless, cruel, and unforgiving.
Jameson took a step forward, placing himself closest to the fire. He removed his hood. I was struck again by his power, his command of action. I stared at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. His eyes had turned obsidian, and the light of the fire accentuated his chiseled features. Looking back at the faces of our followers, I knew they would follow him wherever he took us.
“My people.” His voice roared over the growl of the fire. “Tonight, we will offer our first human sacrifice to the Angel of Darkness.”
Cheers erupted from the crowd as I moved to the table, which sat near the fire. Three black candles were atop the table. I lit each, their blaze joining in with the flames from the large fire. Jameson had stepped away from the blaze in order to drag our sacrifice from the corner where she crouched. Silent tears fell down the sacrifice’s face, but I had no sympathy for her.
Raw emotion streamed from her body, emphasizing her beauty in the sacrificial moment. The world needed to know the power of Lucifer and the destructive nature of all other religions. We had found the sacrifice at the local college practicing dark magic. It had been easy to coerce the girl. She’d been completely ignorant of the craft she had been practicing, and without much convincing, she had joined our cult.
As Jameson dragged her across the grass, she kicked and screamed, the ropes tearing her already raw skin. She was doing a great service to our community and to the life we had built in the outskirts of Virginia. We needed to do this. We needed to sacrifice her. It would make Lucifer happy, and in turn, he would bless us. In seven short days, we would be ready to give our Lord the ultimate sacrifice, one that would merge our fate with our Lord’s forever.
I watched my love as a smile spread across his face. With so much control, he was magnificent, his presence captivating. His strong jaw and deep-set hazel eyes were highlighted by the fire. Even under the cloak, his muscular body made me want him, and I was so thankful he had chosen me to be on this journey with him. I would follow him all the way to the depths of hell. I smiled slowly, secretly, because that was exactly what I intended.
Jameson threw her body in front of the fire. She screamed, convulsing as her lungs gave voice to her frustration. Her screams fueled me; the need to be close to her and experience her pain tingled throughout my body. I knelt beside her and studied her face.
“Help me, please,” she begged. Her eyes were wide. Panic overcame her and she looked around for help. No one would save her. Especially not me. I smiled at her, caressing her cheek. I was used to this. The women looked to me for comfort and hoped that I would save them. They saw my slight frame, my long golden hair and kind eyes. I looked like an angel, but I had been fallen for quite some time.
“We are helping you. We are setting you free. Soon you will be with Lucifer. He will take care of you now.” The sacrifice’s cries became more violent, but it didn’t matter how hard the girl cried, no one would hear her. Not out here in the woods. Not anywhere. I stood when I heard Jameson chanting. It was time. The moment we would become one with our Angel of Darkness.
“Spirits of the underworld, hear my call. Lucifer, accept the blood of this innocent one as my gift for you. Bless me and my people.” He looked briefly at me, his smile a secret between the two of us and our Angel of Darkness. “Our people. Allow us to be your disciples, your loyal followers until death. We will provide you with one sacrifice in each of the elements. Death is life. Death is something we welcome and embrace. Take thine enemy, those who worship the light. Take them, smite and break him. Make their bones crush, crumble and turn to ash. From the mighty depths of hell, cast your darkness on all those who have deserted you. Lucifer, oh great beacon of darkness who guides me through the days, embrace us as yours.”
Jameson lifted the flailing girl as she kicked her feet at him. Effortlessly, my Jameson raised her and without any hesitation, he threw her into the fire. Greedy flames wrapped themselves around her, no stranger to innocent flesh. As the fire slowly peeled away the sacrifice’s skin, layer by layer, the girl screamed, yet she didn’t fight her fate. Despite her fear and hesitation earlier, she lay there, her eyes staring at me as she was burned alive. I respected her for that. A tear escaped at the beauty of the moment. Her death that was an all precious gift.
“Lucifer, my Angel of Darkness, this is for you,” Jameson declared.
I looked into the eyes of my husband, watching them change and shivered in anticipation. Darkness glistened there even with the flames of the fire reflected in his pupils. He lifted his arms, closed his eyes, and screamed into the darkened sky.
