Page 101 of Body and Soul

“Dani?” My voice broke. I shook my head, fighting to keep it together.

“I can't talk long.” Dani's voice was hushed and hurried, like she was whispering into the receiver, glancing over her shoulder. “But I had to warn you. The cult... they took him. They have Eli.”

The phone nearly slipped from my hand, my fingers gone numb. The world tilted on its axis and all the air seemed to vanish from my lungs. An icy chill slithered down my spine as the sickening realization sank in, settling like lead in my stomach.

“What... Where are you?” I choked out, each word scraping like broken glass in my throat. “Tell me, Dani. Please.”

“I don't know all the details. I overheard Father Ezekiel talking to some of the elders. They were saying something about Eli being an abomination, living in sin with you. That he needed to be cleansed and purified. Brought back into the light.” Her voice trembled, thick with fear. “I think they're going to hurt him, Shepherd.”

A strangled noise tore from my throat, somewhere between a sob and a scream. “Dani, please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “You have to tell me where they took him. I can't... I can't lose him.”

There was a long pause, the silence broken only by the sound of Dani's shaky breathing. When she finally spoke, her words were barely above a whisper. “They're at the old campsite, the one outside Point Pleasant. You know the one.”

I did know.

I also knew the sort of awful rituals that took place there, and about all the bodies they’d buried out there. I couldn’t let Eli become another unmarked grave in the woods.

“Dani...” I started, but she cut me off.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I'm sorry, Shepherd. For everything. I…I love you, big brother. I hope you know that.”

“Wait, Dani, don't—”

But it was too late. The line went dead.

I struggled against myrestraints, twisting my wrists until the skin chafed raw. My heart pounded in my ears as I fought, trying to get free.

They must have drugged me when they grabbed me because my head was still pounding and I didn’t remember the journey. I’d just woken up there, groggy and confused, on the filthy floor of a rundown RV.

I had no way to gauge how much time had passed. Hours, maybe days spent in there, drifting in and out of consciousness. My muscles cramped from being contorted in the same position for so long. At least I had access to the bathroom. They’d come once to drag me out of the back bedroom and shove me into the cramped space to piss. I didn’t know when or if they were ever coming back.

A rattle at the trailer door jerked me to alertness. I listened, straining against the duct tape covering my mouth, as several sets of footsteps clomped up the metal steps and into the RV. My pulse raced as three cultists filed into the cramped back room.

“Please,” I tried to say around the tape. “Please don’t.” But my words came out muffled and garbled.

The cultists paid me no mind as they cut the ropes binding my legs. I tried to stand, but my limbs were numb and shaky. Two of them grabbed me under the armpits and dragged me bodily from the trailer, my feet bumping and scraping against the steps.

Outside, the sun blinded me after so long in darkness. The fresh air tasted sweet. I blinked away tears, my eyes slowly adjusting, and took in my surroundings—a clearing in the woods, more RVs and tents forming a circle. In the center, a bonfire blazed.

More people emerged from the camp to watch as I was hauled before the flames. My shirt was cut away. I shivered as they tugged my jeans and underwear off, leaving me naked and exposed before the crowd. I hunched over, trying to cover myself.

“The vessel is ready,” one of my captors declared. “We begin the purification.”

They forced me to kneel in the dirt before the bonfire. I grunted in pain as my bare knees struck the ground. The heavy scent of incense and burning wood choked my nostrils.

I flinched as one of the cultists began painting on my exposed skin with a thick, tacky substance. The mixture of ash and oil felt cold and slimy against my flesh. I tried to pull away, but firm hands gripped my shoulders, holding me in place. The bristles of the brush tickled and scratched as it moved across my body in swirling, intricate patterns.

I couldn't see the symbols they were drawing on me, but it couldn’t be anything good. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, and a shudder of revulsion ran through me. I was an unwilling canvas for their artwork.

I renewed my struggles, but in my weakened state, it was pathetic and futile. They handled me easily, their grips like iron,pulling my limbs this way and that as they covered every inch of my skin in the arcane sigils. They worked in focused silence, ignoring my squirming and muffled protests. To them, I wasn't even human. Just a vessel, an object. A sacrifice.

When they finished painting the symbols, they dragged me closer to the bonfire. The heat seared my naked skin as they positioned me right at the edge of the pit. Flames licked hungrily at the air, sending up showers of sparks and embers that singed my flesh. The smoke burned my eyes and choked my lungs.

I was trembling violently, my heart jack-rabbiting in my chest as I knelt there completely exposed and vulnerable, helpless to resist whatever sadistic plans they had in store. The cultists formed a circle around me, their shadowed faces illuminated by the flickering light of the fire. They began to chant in low, droning voices, the ancient words reverberating through my bones.

My head swam with terror, my thoughts scattering like leaves on the wind. I prayed desperately in my mind, begging for salvation, but no divine intervention came.

Through the haze of fear, I spotted two familiar figures emerging from one of the nearby RVs—Father Ezekiel and Daniella, Shepherd’s sister. Relief surged through me at the sight of her, a tiny spark of hope kindling in my chest that maybe Dani would put a stop to this. She would save me from whatever horrors the cult intended to inflict.

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