The Cult

The cold hit me in the face the second I stepped outside and into the elements.

It was dark, moonlight shining down through the branches of the trees overhead. Stars blanketed the sky, so visible and brilliant that I had to be hundreds of miles away from Paris. The only sounds I could distinguish were the crackling flames from the fires lit throughout the area.

Small wooden buildings were spaced out throughout the clearing, small cabins nestled in the privacy of the forest. A slight breeze moved through my hair and kept it behind my shoulders. The fabric of my white dress was light and soft to the touch, made of high-quality cashmere. It was tight around my waist and flared out toward the bottom, and the same happened with the sleeves. I was barefoot, and there had been no shoes in my closet. The fabric of the dress dragged behind me as I took the steps down to the earth at the bottom. My feet immediately felt the coldness of the ground.

The dress was light—but the wings were heavy.

They stretched out far behind me, rising above my height and then curving back down again. They were made of a combination of silk and goose feathers, so intricate that they had to have been made by hand. It wasn’t a cheap Halloween costume that you bought at a party store to go trick-or-treating. This was the real deal.

The woman led the way, her hands clamped together as she glided across the earth.

It was a lot to take in at once.

In the center of the clearing was a large stone statue of a woman dressed the same way I was, with the wings on her back, with her head held high in grace. Beneath her were demons, all reaching their hands up to touch her. They were disfigured monsters with claws and tails, all depicted as pained and vicious creatures. There was a circle of torches around it to illuminate it as the centerpiece of this place.

Goose bumps formed on my arms as we drew near and saw the details up close. The angel was clearly revered—and the monsters wanted her. I stopped on the path to stare even though I wished I’d never seen it in the first place. The demons were different sizes, some small like a child, while others could perch on her shoulder.

The woman stopped when she realized I was no longer behind her—even though she didn’t turn around to look at me. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She turned her head slightly, her cheek partially visible.

I turned back to her, my eyes incredulous. “That’s an interesting way to describe it…”

We continued through the clearing and reached a cobblestone path. There was too much to take in all at once, and there was no sign to give me any indication of where I was. I was just…nowhere. My eyes turned to scan the darkness, and that was when I noticed them.

The men in the skulls.

The Malevolent.

They were posted in front of the buildings and at the edge of the clearing, standing so still, they looked like statues, and that was why I hadn’t noticed them before. Dressed in all black with the skulls covering their faces, they remained motionless, only turning their heads to watch us go.

She approached a post that had a torch in one of the slots, so she took it and raised it high as she continued to guide me, bringing me farther into the trees and the buildings, passing more statues that were illuminated by flames.

It was a long walk, one that never seemed to end. In the distance to the left, I could make out gravestones under the light from distant torches. Slabs were in the earth, in a line, marking where their dead lay.

Were they demons…or angels?

She halted in front of a building larger than the others, several stories tall, with a domed roof. There were no windows, unlike the traditionally built cabins sprinkled throughout the woods. The place had a different energy than the rest of the clearing, a gentle hum that seemed inaudible and in my head…but real, nonetheless.

She slid the torch into the post outside, the flames feeding off the gasoline soaked into the tip. She stepped to the side of the main double doors then raised her hand to direct me to go inside.

I stared at her, watched the flames dance across her face. “Who are you?” She didn’t wear a skull like the others, and the Malevolent seemed to be exclusively men, based on their height, but I couldn’t confirm that completely without actually seeing their faces. She wasn’t an angel, so what was her purpose in a place like this?

“Rebecca.”

“Okay…then, what are you?” I’d never asked another person a question like that because a distinction had never been required. People were people…with no variation. But in this world, there seemed to be a difference, a hierarchy. I wasn’t sure where angels fit on that hierarchy, but I hoped it wasn’t at the bottom.

Her clasped hands dropped to her waist, and her green eyes were bright like the fire that burned overhead. “I’m a humble servant to Hell.”

“Hell?”

“That’s what this place is called, our home.”

Oh…fuck. “Why?”

She raised her hand and indicated to the door. “Don’t keep Forneus waiting.”

“What does he want with me?”

She held her silence with her hand raised.

“Is he going to hurt me?”

Nothing.

“Rebecca, why are you doing this—”

“Don’t tempt the beast inside him. He’s like you, looking like a mortal on this plane of existence, but underneath, his true form resides. It is a sin to hurt an angel, but if provoked, he will commit those sins, and the beast will grow.”

I wanted to turn around and sprint through the trees, screaming at the top of my lungs until someone found me. But I didn’t believe it would be that simple. I believed the Malevolent were there to hunt us if we ran. What other reason would they have for being there? With no shoes and no plan, I had no options.

I had to go inside—and face my demons.

Literally.

The darkness was pierced by hundreds of white candles.

They illuminated the rows of seats that faced the rear of the building. A large statue stood in the back, various angels surrounded by a cacophony of demons, reaching for them but always too far away.

There was a white throne in the center of the room, far too large for an average person. Beside it was a black throne, made of reflective iron and with jagged edges. They faced each other, a table covered with candles between them, an iron chandelier above that contained glimmering candles as well.

I didn’t take a step forward because my senses were overwhelmed by the aesthetics. The rows of seats reminded me of a church, but the black iron made me feel as if I were in an archaic place, in a different time. There was a bad energy that absorbed into my skin, made me feel the terror all the way up to my throat.

A man stood in front of a statue, dressed in all black, his back to me.

I hadn’t noticed him before. It was as if he appeared out of nowhere…but that wasn’t possible.

I knew what his face looked like. I knew when he turned around, he would give me that eerie smile. I knew it would shake me down to my soul. I decided that I would rather run deep into the woods than face this psychopath, so I turned back to the door and grabbed the knob.

It wouldn’t turn.

That bitch had locked me in there.

I put all my weight down on the knob and tried to turn it before slamming my body into the wood.

“Care-ful.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it somehow traveled across the room and reached my ears. “Your wi-ng-s.” He pronounced every syllable unnecessarily, making his pattern of speech just as bizarre as his face. He also seemed to make a hiss with his s’s, as if he was trying to mimic the sound of a snake.

I rested my cheek against the wood and breathed through a mixture of exhaustion and terror. When I saw him in the audience at my show, I should have used my credit card and bought a plane ticket to anywhere. Even Antarctica would be just fine. Why was I stupid enough to believe that the police would be a match for these psychopaths? I should have followed my instincts and left Paris.

“An-gel. Come here.”

I pushed off the door then looked down the aisle where he continued to stand. “I’m not an angel. And you aren’t a demon.”

There was a long stretch of silence, his body rigid and still just like Rebecca’s. “I dis-s-a-gree.” He turned around and faced me, looking at me for the first time without that smile plastered on his face. His eyes were serious and haunted, and without his smile, he looked deeply disturbed, as if he was on the verge of a breakdown. He raised his hand and indicated to the white throne. “Please. Join me.” He moved to the black throne and slowly lowered himself into the chair, his knees apart, his hands gripping the jagged edges. His head was turned my way, and he kept that dark stare pinned on me.

I discreetly scanned the room for a weapon, like an iron bar, something I could wield to smack him down and crack his head on the stone statue behind him. Death wasn’t something I should have the right to grant to anyone, but even without knowing anything real about this guy, I knew he deserved to be buried in the graveyard I’d seen on the way here.

His stare remained.

I moved down the aisle between the rows of chairs, my dress dragging behind me, my wings shifting slightly with my movements. The chandelier above cast a glow on top of the thrones. I stopped several feet away from him, getting a better look at his face. He had deep brown hair, a cleanly shaven jawline, brown eyes, and a powerful build that told me I had no chance against him in hand-to-hand combat. I would need a weapon to defeat him. The oddest thing about him was his attractiveness. He was a handsome man when he didn’t wear that strange smile and when he didn’t speak. Why would a good-looking young man be out here, in the middle of nowhere, claiming to be a demon, when he could join the rest of society and enjoy his youth?

I looked at the white throne, which seemed to be made of birchwood, a pale, smooth color with occasional dark striations, like slices on your forearm from an old cut. The flames from the candles were silent, there was no draft of any kind, and the air felt old, like it’d been trapped inside since the place had been built—along with all the disturbing shit that happened here.

His eyes watched my movements, blinking only on the rarest of occasions. His look was deep, like his eyes were a dry sponge and I was a basin full of water. He absorbed me more the closer I came, but he was never saturated with my appearance. He constantly needed more.

I gripped the armrests and lowered myself into the chair. The large wings behind me made it impossible to lean back, and now I understood why the chair was so large—because it was made for an angel.

There didn’t seem to be any imminent danger, but that didn’t slow my frantically beating heart. It was like a hummingbird trapped in my chest, working hard to fly out of my body and to the sky. I looked at the interior of the room from a new perspective, imagining the Malevolent sitting in the rows starting at the thrones, faces hidden behind their skulls. I stared at everything but him, afraid to look at his face once more.

A part of me was convinced this entire experience was a dream…except for the fact that I never woke up.

He straightened in the chair and leaned forward slightly, his elbows moving to the edges of the armrests, his hands coming together. His eyes were on me, and slowly, that grin stretched on his face. “You are…beau-ti-ful.”

If this chair weren’t so heavy, I would have picked it up and slammed it on his head. I redirected my gaze and didn’t look at him because that smile was so fucking creepy. It was creepier than this room, than the thrones, than the statue. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”

“Touch you?” His voice turned low, only speaking loud enough for me to barely hear what he said. “An-gel, all I want is your forgiveness. All I want is to confess my sins and exhume my soul. All I want…is a chance to be human.”

My eyes shifted back to him, relieved that the smile was gone, replaced by his serious expression once more, which was far less terrifying. He looked human again. “You are human.” His smile was demonic and his soul was evil…but he was human.

“I us-s-ed to be. I am no lo-ng-er.” He bowed his head, large hands interlocked, taking a moment of quiet, as if to silently cast his regret.

I felt like a priest in a confessional—but his sins would never be absolved.

Not just because I wasn’t a qualified priest.

But because this wasn’t religion. There was no god here. This was a fucking cult.

They’d paid for the buildings and the statues with money—and they had to earn that money somehow. They were criminals, and not just because they were kidnappers and committing crimes against humanity, but because they had to be selling something to finance this freak show.

I held my silence because I was utterly powerless. He wasn’t snatching my purse on the street and would go down with a swift kick to the groin. I couldn’t scream for help and people would come running. This was much bigger than me, and I had to do whatever was necessary to survive—until I figured out a plan.

“I’ve waited a long time for you.” He lifted his chin again and looked at me. “I’ve waited a long time for a path to redemption. I need the grace of an angel to take me back to the light…and make me into a man again.”