Page 102 of Body and Soul

But my hope shattered as they drew closer. Dani walked with her head bowed, heavy with child, her stomach straining against the thin fabric of her dress. She clung to Father Ezekiel's arm as he guided her, his face a mask of benevolent calm. Neither of them so much as glanced in my direction. They didn't seem to notice me at all.

Father Ezekiel raised his hands, and the chanting stopped. He surveyed his flock with a beatific smile, his grandfatherly features arranged in an expression of utter serenity.

“My children,” he said, his voice carrying across the clearing. “Like the Israelites before us, we have wandered this desert for forty long years. The time of our deliverance is nearly upon us. Soon, our Heavenly Father will deliver us unto the promised land flowing with milk and honey.”

The cultists murmured praises and lifted their hands.

“But there is one final test of faith we must endure before we can claim our reward.” Father Ezekiel turned his predatory gaze on me and I withered under the intensity of it. He stalked closer, his sandaled feet crunching against the dirt and leaves. The firelight cast his features in a hellish glow, all harsh angles and deep shadows. “The book of John says ‘Truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.’ Just as our Lord Jesus gave his body and blood to the disciples at the Last Supper, so too shall we partake of holy flesh to seal our covenant with God.”

Icy horror flooded my veins as the implication of his words sank in. Bile surged up my throat, and I swallowed convulsively against the tape covering my mouth.

“This vessel of sin shall be the sacrificial lamb,” Father Ezekiel continued, gesturing at my naked, trembling body. “Through his sacrifice, we shall all be reborn into glory.”

The cultists made noises of agreement, lifting their hands in prayer and thanking Jesus. I shook my head frantically, trying to catch Dani's eye, to plead with her silently to stop this. But she wouldn't look at me, her gaze fixed resolutely on the ground.

My mind reeled as the horrifying realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. Cannibalism. They were going to fuckingeatme.

Memories flashed through my head in disjointed fragments. Late night burials, unmarked graves dug in secret under cover of darkness. The too-light bodies wrapped in blood-soaked sheets, parts of them missing—a hand here, a leg there. Glazed, sightless eyes staring up at me from faces frozen in eternal agony.

At the time, I'd been too afraid to question it, too focused on keeping my head down and staying off the radar. But it all made nauseating sense now.

How many others had been in this same position before me? Helpless sacrifices to sate the twisted appetites of the cult’s inner circle? The thought made my head spin and my stomach heave. I felt like I was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both.

Father Ezekiel stepped closer, his fingers trailing along my jaw almost tenderly. I cringed away from his touch, a terrified whimper rising in my throat. He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his cold, pitiless gaze.

“Be not afraid, my son,” he said. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. He is the one who brought you to us. He is the one that has bestowed this high honor upon you. Your flesh and blood shall nourish us, transform us, make us one with the divine. Your suffering is temporary, but the blessings we reap shall be eternal.”

Father Ezekiel turned to address the congregation once more. “Tonight, Mother Daniella and I shall depart,” he announced. “We go ahead to prepare the way that leads to our salvation, to ready a place for all of you in the land of milk and honey. We have already taken the sacrament into our bodies. Now, we must complete our journey so that we may guide you home.”

The cultists bowed their heads in reverent silence, accepting his proclamation without question. I felt a surge of rage at their blind obedience, their willingness to commit such unspeakable acts in the name of faith.

Father Ezekiel gestured to the men holding me captive. “Take the vessel back to the trailer. He requires further purification before he can fulfill his holy purpose. We must wait for the ordained time to complete the sacrament.”

Rough hands gripped my arms, hauling me to my feet. I stumbled as they dragged me away from the bonfire, my legs cramping from kneeling for so long. The pebbles and twigs dug into my bare feet, scraping my soles raw. Behind me, I could hear the cult members chanting and singing hymns.

The interior of the RV trailer was pitch black compared to the bright firelight outside. I blinked rapidly, my eyes struggling to adjust as they shoved me back into the bedroom. The flimsy door slammed shut behind them as they left and the heavy chains and lock slid back into place.

I slumped to the floor, my body aching and shaking uncontrollably. I tugged the tape off my mouth with a wince and gulped in deep lungfuls of air. The symbols painted on my skin had dried, leaving behind a flaky residue that made me feel filthy, tainted.

I huddled against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around myself in a vain attempt at comfort. The worn carpet scratched against my bare skin. Outside, the faint music and the murmur of voices began, a macabre celebration while I awaited my grisly fate.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as the enormity of the situation crashed down on me. A choked sob tore from my raw throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, but there was no escaping the waking nightmare.

“Shepherd,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken. “Shepherd, please...”

I didn't know if he was looking for me, or if he even knew I was gone, but I clung to his name like a talisman. Shepherd was my only hope. Without him, I was as good as dead.

I steered my SUVdown the narrow brick streets of the town of Revenge, taking in the dilapidated storefronts and rotting brick houses through narrowed eyes. Beside me, Gavin sat silently, gaze flicking alertly over our bleak surroundings. The overcast sky hung oppressively low, seeming to trap the despair and hopelessness that pervaded this once bustling coal town.

Inside my mind, I could feel Keres pacing restlessly, his eagerness for violence bleeding into my own consciousness and electrifying my nerve endings. The pungent scent of rot and decay grew sharper, the muted colors more vivid, every tiny sound amplified. I gripped the steering wheel tighter and clenched my jaw, trying to block out the growing bloodlust and focus on the task at hand. We were here for backup, not annihilation. At least not yet.

Revenge had clearly seen better days, before the coal mines shut down and the opioid epidemic moved in. Now, it existed in a state of living death, with hollow-eyed addicts shambling along the overgrown sidewalks. An old church with a crooked crossloomed at the end of the street, paint peeling to reveal rotting wood underneath. Old men and women with their dogs and their mason jar tea sat out on their porches, watching us with suspicion as we drove by.

We passed a ramshackle grocery store, its faded sign missing several letters, and a boarded-up gas station with ancient rusty pumps. A skinny hound dog with jutting ribs trotted across the cracked asphalt, pausing to sniff at a discarded fast food wrapper. Overgrown lots were strewn with the rusting carcasses of abandoned vehicles, their tires long since rotted away.

I could feel Keres' rising impatience, his desire to leap from the car and sink his teeth into the wasted flesh of the half-dead town. My own anger simmered, fueled by the sight of such rampant despair and neglect. These people had been forgotten, left to wither in the shadow of progress. The injustice of it burned like acid in my veins.

Gavin remained stoic and watchful, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. I knew he sensed the prickling tension emanating from me, the barely leashed ferocity of Keres prowling beneath my skin. But he said nothing.

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