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Lorelei
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“Drown her.”
“What?” Jameson’s eyes met mine as we loaded up Clarissa in the car.
“Water. That’s the next element. Drown her,” I said as I moved closer to the car.
“Lorelei....” The hesitation in Jameson’s voice made me uneasy. He couldn’t stop this. Not now. There could be no hesitation. No second-guessing what we were doing. We were just fueling what we had promised our god we would. Using the elements to provide him with sacrifices. That was what he wanted. That was what he deserved.
“I think we need to take a break. We can just live here in peace. Keep farming off the land.” He took my hand in his. “We can have a good life. Stop the killing. Maybe have a family. And Clarissa, she’s confused. You’re such a good teacher. Teach her, mold her. Don’t kill her.”
The sentiment was cute. I’d give him that. But I didn’t want a family. I’d never desired children of my own. The vile, nasty little things sucked you dry and were ungrateful. Look at Clarissa. Seventeen years old and telling her parents that they didn’t understand her. I smiled at the thought. They hadn’t allowed her to have a sleepover with her boyfriend because they didn’t want her to have sex. I couldn’t say I blamed them. Ungrateful. Blind to what she truly had. Parents who loved her. Parents who looked out for her. Not like Jameson. Not like me. Our parents couldn’t have cared less about us. Other than how we made them look. Were we obeying? If not, we were whipped with the belt, the hand, the shoe, whatever was convenient at the time. Abuse disguised as religious normality. God’s calling to save the children and put them on a path of righteousness. I chuckled to myself as Jameson frowned at me.
Since Jameson and I had found Lucifer, the calling of the rightful god, we’d been able to embrace even the darkest parts of ourselves, and I had never felt freer or more able to be who I truly was.
“We need to finish this. Follow through with our plans.” I took Jameson into my arms and hugged him, resting my head on his shoulders as I often did. He stiffened against my touch and didn’t stroke my hair as he usually did. He was hesitating, again. I needed him. More than ever, I needed him.
“Then we can settle down. Together. Just us.” I whispered the words, and his body slowly softened against me, his hands making their way to my hair. He stroked it, our breathing becoming one. I released him and rested my forehead against his chest.
“You’re right, Jameson. You stay here with the others. I’ll take care of her.” I glanced back at the frightened girl in the backseat. Clarissa whimpered, her sobs audible through the closed doors. “I’ll take her with me and talk with her. Make her see that she should stay.” I took a breath. “That she should support our mission.”
“That’s my girl.” Jameson placed a quick peck on my cheek, the hesitation completely gone. “And what if she doesn’t obey?”
I knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted to know that I wouldn’t sacrifice her. That I would let her go home to her family. I wouldn’t. Deep down he knew that. She knew where we were; she also knew who we were. It was more than just us. It was everyone, everything we had worked so hard to achieve. She had to go. She had to be sacrificed for something bigger than this world.
“Then, of course, I’ll let her go home.” Jameson nodded and Clarissa stopped whimpering. It was quiet for a moment, an eerie calm temporarily coming over us.
I slid into the car and waved to him as I backed out of the driveway. I headed toward the wharf. Her pleas to let her go vibrated through the car, further fueling my desire to teach this girl about her true savior. Lucifer.
The wharf was empty under the mask of the night. All the fisherman, boaters and visitors had gone home to their fancy houses and loving families.
“Let’s go.” I ripped Clarissa from the backseat by her long brown hair, and she stumbled behind me.
“What are you going to do to me?” Her wide eyes glistened with tears.
“I’m going to set you free.” I brushed her hair out of her face as it tangled with her tears.
“God, please save me,” she whispered.
Fire.
Hate.
Rage.
They all coursed through me. I was ablaze. I clawed at my arms, struggling to get the feeling out of my veins. God? Save her?
“You naïve, child.” I bent her down in front of the water. “There is no god to save you.” She glanced back at me, and another squeal escaped from her lips.
“But the devil. Well, he’s here, and he’s waiting for you.” I took out a knife from my pants pocket. It was small but sharp enough to cut into flesh. I lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach. I pressed it against her abdomen and I watched as the red dripped down her skin. She struggled against me, threatening to mess up the thin red lines I was trying to form. I stopped as she continued to fight me. Her restraints were loose, and she stared at me, fear and confusion causing her eyes to widen. Anger built in my body, threatening to boil over.
“Give me your hand,” I demanded as she stared back at me. Her shaky hand reached to me as I placed the knife inside of it. Although she was scared, I had built a trust with her that she was hesitant to break from the months of my influence and guidance. Her hesitation further ignited my strength and my own confidence.
“Carve,” I demanded.
“What?” Her words came out shaky and confused.
“Carve a pentagram into your flesh.” I nodded to her stomach urging her to continue.
“I can’t,” she sobbed.
“If you don’t, I will, and I won’t be kind. I’ll make it hurt,” I hissed, trying to instill fear into this girl.
With a shaky hand, she as I asked. I smiled in victory. She required no guidance. My training had worked. Each time the knife pierced into her flesh, her teeth clenched in pain. When she was done, the knife plummeted against the earth, and I snatched it up, placing it back into my pocket. I took her shoulders and leaned her over the water.
Clarissa struggled and kicked against me as I pressed her head closer and closer to the water. I dug my heels in, and my simple, black pumps seeped into the earth. When her face finally hit the water, the fire was gone, replaced by coolness, replaced with a soothing enveloping feeling like a blanket. I felt alive as I held down her struggling form. Her limbs flailed frantically as she reached for salvation, reached out for me, reached out to claw at the earth. Just as soon as they had started moving, those smooth, young arms stopped.
I released my hold on her, and watched her float free of me. Lifeless and light as though gravity didn’t exist.
“I did it,” I whispered into the air. No one was there to hear me. But I knew he was watching me. That he accepted this girl as a sacrifice. My hands shook. Not with fear, with happiness, with control. I was more connected to Lucifer than I had ever been. Hate coursed through me, fueled me, and I knew I had to continue.
Hate was all I knew. Hate was all the world knew. And only by accepting Lucifer into their lives would we be truly happy. Would the world truly be at peace.
Kneeling on the damp, fertile earth and watching the dead girl float away, I made a vow. I would complete all the sacrifices in the name of Lucifer no matter what Jameson said or wanted. I would help my husband see that this mission was important, that we must complete it to fulfill our calling, and that we were destined to be Lucifer’s.
