to the sky. On the altar was a sheep with its throat slit, and the woman was chanting, and she could smell incense burning, and then the image was gone. It was replaced by the sight of naked images in a field under a clear, starry sky, a clearing in the forest, with torches burning. The naked forms were dancing together, lewdly, women grabbing their breasts, men cupping their genitals with their hands; and then just as quickly this was gone, and she glimpsed a naked man chained to a wall, a whip flicking out and raising bloody welts on his back. And then a woman, chained to a stake, piles of wood at her feet; and then the wood was set ablaze by a torch, the flames spreading, and the woman opened her mouth and screamed, a scream so primal and deep, it echoed in Rachel’s soul…
Focus, Rachel; reach out to Philip’s soul.
And she forced the images from her head, conjuring up Philip’s face, his brown hair, his wide brown eyes, the smile with the even white teeth.
And then she saw—
A darkened room filled with shadows. Long white candles, burning in sconces on the walls, flickering. The scent of rose and lilac, mixed together into an almost sickening perfume. A bed covered in satin and velvet, surrounded by sheer white curtains that moved in the breeze. A man on his knees, golden curls tumbling down his naked back, his pelvis thrusting, two legs covered in curly, black hair wrapped around him, and she could see the young man on his back, sweat rolling down his face, his eyes closed in pleasure, raising up to greet the thrusts of the blond man as their bodies joined…
Philip.
Follow the trail, Rachel. You should be able to find them.
She looked at one of the candles, which seemed brighter than the others, burning stronger yet without giving off any smoke.
She focused on the flame, staring at it until it was the only thing she was aware of; there was no time or space or anything for her but the flicker of the yellow flame as it burned, melting wax flowing down the side, slight black smoke rising from it.
The room faded away from her consciousness, the colors blurring and running, the sunlight in the background melting, darkening, becoming night, eternal night, and then other shapes began to struggle to take form. It was a different room, she could tell; the breezes she was feeling against her skin were no longer warm and soft but rather cold and damp. The scent of lilac and rose was gone; she could only smell grease in the air, grease and fresh horseshit. The room began to take shape. Again there were burning white candles casting their sparse light. There was a gold-framed mirror on the wall. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, again with the satin and silk and velvet, and there were human forms on the bed. She turned her attention away from the candles and looked at them in the gloom, in the dim candlelight, and she heard a horse clip-clopping past outside.
She saw a man from behind, his buttocks clenching and unclenching as he moved his pelvis forward and back. His skin was like white marble, almost aglow in the light of the candles. She turned her attention to the other figure.
It was Philip, lying on his back, his legs spread, his eyes wide open as though in terror. His face was white, and he looked like he was gasping and trying to scream.
The man was between his legs, laughing, cooing to him like a baby in a guttural language she didn’t recognize, and then he pulled Philip’s legs up higher into the air and plunged deeper inside him.
Philip screamed.
Rachel winced as the sound exploded in her head, piercing her soul.
Go inside him, Rachel, she could hear Nigel urging her. Go inside him; find out where they are, before it’s too late.
Inside him? What the hell do you mean by that?
Through his eyes, Rachel.
She willed herself to move in closer to them. Hesitantly she took a step, not sure if she was really there or not, afraid she might make a floorboard creak or make some other kind of noise. There was nothing, no sound, except for the fading of Philip’s scream.
She took another step closer, but she still couldn’t see Philip’s eyes.
Another step.
The blond man stopped moving, cocking his head first to one side, then the other.
He senses me; oh, dear God in Heaven, he knows I’m here.
And she felt terror, beginning deep inside her mind, spreading to every part of her body, and she wanted to scream—
But even as she opened her mouth, Philip’s head turned, and their eyes locked.
And then she was looking up out of Philip’s eyes, up at the strong chest, the round, erect pink nipples, the trail of blond hairs leading from the navel to the thicker patch below, the blue eyes, the blond hair of the stranger, and she felt his enormousness inside her, ripping and tearing at her tissues, invading her, raping her; but it somehow felt so good, and she was beginning to lose herself into the rhythm, the rhythm of his entering and exiting, deepening with each thrust, each thrust going farther inside her; and she turned her head and looked out the window…
And she knew exactly where she was….
Then it was all gone.
She was back, sitting on the steps in front of her building.
Her wrist itched.
She looked down at it, watching the two tiny holes slowly close until they were just pinpricks, and then even that was gone. Her skin was smooth, undamaged, like nothing had ever happened.
She looked at Nigel. She felt like throwing up.
“Excellent work, my dear.” Nigel wiped at his mouth, keeping it hidden from her. He turned his head away from her and slowly stood up, holding on to the railing for help. “There’s still time to save your young friend.”
She grabbed him by the arm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” He wouldn’t look at her, keeping his face in the shadows. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You need me, old man.” She didn’t even question it. Only a few minutes earlier she’d thought him crazy—now she believed. She didn’t know what was different, what he had done to her, but the abilities she’d used, abilities she’d never known she’d been capable of—she wasn’t about to let go now. “I know exactly where they are.”
“It’s dangerous.” He moved out of the shadows, and she saw his teeth. The canines were longer, sharper than she remembered.
“All the more reason,” she said, “for me to come with you. I can help you; I know I can.”
He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “I can see you’re determined.”
“Either I come with you or I follow you.”
He held out his hand to her. “Then, come.”
It hurt, oh, God, how it hurt.
“You are mine for all eternity,” Gunther whispered as he continued to pound away at him. “All eternity.”
Eternity.
The word echoed in his mind.
Lilacs. Roses.
He felt himself slipping away again.
You are mine for all eternity, Gunther was saying. They were lying, bathed in sweat, on top of the covers. Philip was resting his head on Gunther’s strong chest, listening to his heartbeat through the skin and layers of muscle. The village priest had told him his feelings for the lord were sinful, but how could a sin feel so good? Surely God would not have made such pleasure possible only for it to be a sin. And the lord loved him; he knew it. Was he not wet from his kisses? Was he not covered in sweat from their love? It couldn’t be wrong; it couldn’t be sin; such happiness was surely his destiny. He was sated, with his lord’s seed inside him, and relaxed, wanting to feel Gunther inside him again.
“Are you ready to join me for all eternity?”