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Lorelei
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I stood at the door and listened to the two FBI agents I had kidnapped, Garcia and Marshall. I was proud of my work. I’d lured them under the ruse of a flat tire and took them away from the crowd of people who hovered around the pub. I sedated the weak one first, Marshall. Garcia had sharp instincts, and I could tell immediately as she glanced at her surroundings when they came to help me that she was on alert. I was even more excited to have them as the last two sacrifices. They were special.
Jameson, he just didn’t understand. He wanted me to put them back. Like they were an item I stole. Each day that passed he was growing distant from our cause. I couldn’t let that happen. We had to finish. Together.
I listened to Garcia and Marshall talking, their backs to me and unaware of my presence.
“Marshall? Marshall?” Garcia called out to her partner. I smiled, watching it all unfold. Garcia’s grief, her fear as I watched her head frantically search for her friend.
“Garcia, are you here?” Marshall whispered.
“Save your strength. Just stay still. Talk to me.” Garcia affirmed she was the stronger one. She took care of Marshall. Even with her own fear and her own death imminent, she still found the strength to comfort her friend.
“I’m so sorry.” Marshall sobbed. “Now look at us.” I shook my head. No one would ever expect me to do this. Jameson maybe, because he’d killed his parents and started this entire thing. Not me. I’d been a silent party until recently. Standing in the background observing and taking everything in gave me insight into human nature and what made people tick. Fear and love were always the reasons.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Garcia managed to roll herself onto her side and scoot herself into a seated position. I moved out of the way to avoid her seeing me.
“I should have told Torres I loved him. I shouldn’t have hidden our relationship. He thinks I don’t love him, and now I’m going to die before I can tell him.” Marshall cried harder. There it was: the love.
“Don’t say that. We are going to survive, and then you can tell Torres how much you love him.” Garcia’s response was met with more tears.
“Did I ever tell you that I was born in El Salvador?”
“No,” Marshall replied.
“I had two younger twin sisters, Lola and Tallie, who I loved so much.” I couldn’t see Garcia’s face but I knew she was smiling; I could hear it in her voice.
“But when the civil war got really bad, Papa decided we had to go to the United Nations and seek refuge. To come to America and have a better life.”
“And you made it,” Marshall said, the smile apparent in her voice.
“I made it. My parents made it. But not my sisters. They died in a fire that was started in our village the night before we were due to leave.”
Marshall gasped and my heart pattered in my chest. Fire. The next element. This was a sign.
“And that’s why I became an agent. I met a woman, Karen Andrews, who worked for the air force and was stationed at the UN when we immigrated in. She took me under her wing. She even got stationed in San Diego where my parents and I ended up living. She pushed me in school, showed me what a strong woman was, and now I’m here.”
“Why did you leave then?” Marshall asked.
“I wanted more. No matter how hard I pushed myself, the accomplishments I made, the scholarship to college, it just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to forget what happened in El Salvador. So, when I left for college, I never went back. Typical case of running away from your problems.”
“Why are you telling me all of this, Garcia?” she whispered.
“Because, if I can make it, you can make it.”
“You’re wrong. That’s exactly why you’ll make it and I won’t.”
And Marshall was right. She wasn’t going to make it. Well, neither of them were. The last sacrifice had to be strong, and Garcia, she was strong, albeit plagued by the loss of her sisters. I didn’t doubt she was afraid too, but she turned that fear off to try to keep Marshall going and that was what Lucifer would want as his last sacrifice, a person who could see beyond their own pain.
Jameson came behind me and put his hand on the small of my back. He gave me a sad look and I nodded. These two were all we needed.
“Shut up with those sob stories. Nothing is going to save you.” I walked over to Marshall and pulled her to her feet. Jameson gathered up Garcia and followed behind me to the car.
Jameson opened the trunk and we all stood before it. He looked at me for direction. I was in control now.
“It’s time for one of you to become beautiful.” Marshall let out a whimper as I held her ropes. “Yes, you. You’re my next beautiful sacrifice.”
“Tell Torres I love him. Tell him I’m sorry. That I was stupid to hide how I felt!” Marshall screamed to Garcia as Jameson took her from me and shoved her into the trunk. Garcia stayed quiet and let the tears roll down her face.
“You can join your friend and be there when she dies.” I breathed in. “Then it’s your turn.”
“How? How are you going to kill us?” Garcia asked as we crammed her into the trunk with Marshall.
“Fire and earth.” My lips curled into a smile as I remembered Garcia’s story of her sisters. She’d watched another person she cared about perish the way. I hoped she thought that this was God’s way of telling her that she should have died that night. I hoped that fear ate her alive. Because God, he had no place here. Only Lucifer existed in this world, and he was coming to take her home.
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“We need to do this,” I said to Jameson as we sat in the car outside of the church.
“This is getting crazy, Lorelei. We should just pack up our stuff and go.” He sighed as his eyes took in our surroundings. Cars were all around us, the service having just started moments ago. “The FBI is involved and you just had me help you drag out two FBI agents and shove them in our trunk. It’s just a matter of time before they find us,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“I know, Jameson. But this is our calling. Our one mission in life is to worship a god worthy of our intentions. What better way to honor him than to burn the church that started this all?” My eyes ached with need as I glanced at my husband. He looked so innocent in this moment, so frightened. In the past few days, he had changed. He’d become less invested in the need to kill, in the need to fulfill our task. He shook his head vehemently at my words.
“I’m done.” Jameson leaned in closer to me, taking my hands in his. “We could be so much more than people invested in hate. Invested in death.”
“Says the guy who killed his parents.” I sat back in the seat of the car.
“I killed my parents so I could be free. I’m free now. We’re free now.” He kissed my hands. “Just come away with me. We can start a family. Live out our lives in peace.”
“What about worshipping Lucifer? We can’t just desert him. He wouldn’t be happy.” It was my turn to try to talk some sense into him. This had been our mission since day one. Worshipping Lucifer. Giving our all to someone worthy of our following. Not God. God who allowed Jameson to be beaten by his father in the name of love. God who subjected him to things no child should have been in order to save Jameson from his sins.
That was why we needed to do this. Jameson’s father ran the church. Devoted his time to a god who was a coward, just as much as Jameson’s father was a coward. He was a man who hadn’t loved his only child. So many people were lost and looking for guidance, and we had developed quite a following. They kept coming. Many had been lost in a religion that oppressed them just like ours had. But with Lucifer, our followers could be free. They could feel what they wanted. Dark thoughts could be welcomed. That darkness was human nature. And we needed to embrace our human nature.
My eyes met Jameson’s, and I knew he was close to defeat, to giving in to my words. Because he knew, deep down, I was right. We had to finish this.
“Fine,” Jameson said as he opened the car door. “But after we complete this, I’m done.”
I nodded. I watched him from the rearview mirror as he grabbed the gasoline from the backseat and the fast beating of my heart sounded in my ears. The blood flowing in my body tingled in anticipation at the thought of burning the church to the ground.
I heard singing coming from the church. “This is the day” vibrated out of the doors that seemed so daunting. I remembered being a young girl, stepping in front of this church for the first time and wondering whether these doors were meant to keep people out, or to keep people in. My dad had rushed me in, because heaven forbid we were late for church. I held my head down low like I often did, being the dutiful child that I was. Then his eyes met mine. The boy who knew and experienced so much in his twelve years on this earth. What I found in Jameson, what he taught me, was that those doors, they were meant to keep people in. Once you were inside of the realm of this church, you could never break free.
As the memory threatened my resolve, I gathered the chains from the back of the car and headed to the front of the church. The doors felt heavy in my hands and my stomach turned sour. The creaking of the door made my unease deepen but as the heads turned and looked at Jameson and me, that sour feeling turned into rage. Jameson looked at me and shook his head, willing me with that simple movement not to go any further, but I had no intention of backing down now. I was no longer that eleven-year-old girl cowering behind her father. I was in charge. I held the reins.
“Everyone sit the fuck down and listen.” Jameson scurried in front of me, pushing the preacher down on his chair. Gasps and cries ricocheted off the walls as I ran to the few exits, barricading them all.
I moved to the pulpit, all eyes on me, even Jameson’s, as I looked out on a parish that followed a man who I knew did not live a godly life. He had cheated on his wife, multiple times, drank to excess, and lied. He was a fraud, a liar.
“You all...” I gritted my teeth, my voice cracking with each syllable. “...you all worship a false god. Show up every Sunday, say a few I’m sorries and think your sins will be absolved.” I laughed. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Lucifer is the only way to be free.” I walked off the pulpit, Jameson trailing behind me, yelling some sort of directions at the people. An elderly woman fainted, and sobs pierced my ears, fueling me even further.
A younger woman ran in front of me, cutting me off. She pulled on the doors that I’d tied closed with chains, sobs racking her body.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Are you trying to escape?” I turned her around to face me.
She whimpered, closing her eyes. Everyone was quiet, all eyes on me.
“Open your eyes.” She shook her head. I knew people feared me; it was something I was proud of. People did what I said because they were scared of what I would do if they didn’t. I wanted to know why she was running, what made the fear so significant that she was willing to put her life on the line. Was it survival? I wanted to survive. I longed to live a worthy life not filled with the lies I’d become accustomed to during my youth.
I brushed her long chestnut hair out of her face. “Open. Please. I won’t hurt you.” I meant it. I wasn’t going to hurt her. Her false beliefs, following the wrong god, that was hurting her. It was what would get her killed.
Slowly, her eyes opened.
“There is no escape. You are going to die today.” She whimpered. “It isn’t because of me. It’s because of you. Your choices. The god you decided to follow. It’s all wrong! It’s all a lie!” I had backed away from the girl, sobs coming from the entire congregation. The girl ran back to her seat, clutching her body, holding herself close.
“Stay here. Don’t anyone try to leave,” I demanded as I exited the church, the doors slamming behind Jameson and me. There was nowhere for them to go. Nowhere for them to hide. They were at our mercy.
“I’ll set the fire. You draw the pentagram,” Jameson said as he bypassed me.
It was time.
It was time for one of them to die.
I watched Jameson as he grabbed the gasoline from the car. He was so powerful. His muscles straining against his shirt as he covered the gasoline over the earth and church. I wanted him to embrace his power completely, not cower from it and be ashamed of what we needed to do.
I drew the pentagram on a piece of wood I found and placed it far enough away from the church where they could still find it. Drawing it was easy. I could do it fast and with detail, but it wasn’t enough anymore. After I had felt that girl’s life leave her body, simply standing, watching, talking, wasn’t enough for me.
I had to do more.
I found a large branch and shoved it in through the handle of the doorway to the church. When the church burned, they would all burn with it. I smiled as I walked back to the car and opened the trunk. I knew which of the two women I would choose. The weak one. The one who cried the most. Their eyes met mine, and I had no remorse for what I was about to do. It needed to be done. Garcia fought against her restraints, trying to prevent me from taking Marshall. She was strong, making the car move with each shake of her body. Fire burned in her eyes already. But there was something else lingering in them that almost looked like acceptance. It was strangely calming, watching her seemingly embrace her death. But that all changed when I reached for her friend, the one who whimpered and cried for her life. It was sadness I had never seen before. I had seen sadness, despair. This was more. It was regret, a pain so deep that it intrigued me. She would be the last sacrifice. So beautiful and damaged.
I dragged the weak, sniffling woman from the trunk and toward the church, using the extra rope I took from the car and tying her to the tree that stood close. I grabbed some extra gasoline from the vehicle and doused her and the tree in the liquid. Walking back to the car and buckling myself in, I waited for Jameson, contentment surging through me.
“You ready?” he asked as he slid into the driver seat.
“Oh, yes. I’m ready.”
“Are you okay?” he asked as his eyes searched my face. I knew I looked crazy. I could feel it. Everything tingled. My entire body felt like it was buzzing and floating on a high that didn’t exist except for the fact that I had built the moment up in my mind. Each surge of energy, each ping of excitement let me know that burning her alive would be epic.
“I just wondered if I could do it.... If I could be the one to set the fire?” I was tingling still, the sensation threatening to overwhelm me. I wanted this. I wanted to be the one to take the lives of these church-going people. People who were clouded by their need for a god who didn’t care about them despite the “love” that was preached about.
“Are you sure?” He shifted in his seat. My jaw ticked for a moment liking that he thought I was weak, but I knew he loved me. That he cared for me.
In my excitement, I couldn’t speak, and I just nodded as I took the lighter from Jameson’s hand and stepped away from the car. Placing the lighter to the ground, I ignited it. It caught quickly and I stood and watched as the church became enveloped in flames. Leaves, trees, people, all of it burned. Transfixed, I was unable to be torn away from the flickering flames.
I heard Jameson calling my name, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. Then I heard it: the screams and the pounding of fists on the walls of the church. I closed my eyes in bliss before glancing back at the tree. Horror wrapped around the face of the green-eyed woman who was tied there.
Jameson’s face dripped with horror as he dragged me away, his eyes transfixed on the woman burning alive, as if he were just realizing what I’d done. He opened the car door and threw me in, but all I could do was smile at him.
He knew.
He knew what I’d done to that girl. How I’d drowned her.
He knew I’d tied that other woman, the FBI agent, to the tree, leaving her there to burn alive.
And he knew I wouldn’t stop there. I couldn’t stop there.
I had to fulfil our mission.
I looked at the church again wanting to see it crumble to the ground. But all I saw was the face of Lucifer smiling at me and I knew that I was close to fulfilling my mission. To being one with the only god who had always been there for me.
