Page 55 of The Flesh Remembers
Blackwood stepped closer, his voice silky. “Every cry feeds the field. Every moan strengthens our cause. Give yourself fully, and you may yet find absolution.”
The novice’s cries of anguish turned to something almost erotic as the energy coursed through him, his body betraying him in a grotesque display of submission. The acolytes watched, their breaths quickening as they pressed closer to one another, hands wandering, feeding off the dark energy saturating the room.
Eleanor turned away, her cheeks flushed. She hated how her body responded to the scene, the forbidden allure seeping into her veins. She felt that she was truly lost now. There would be no going back to normal life after this. No happy Sunday dinners with James and their sweet children. No more picnics in the park or sitting in the happy little back garden with the wildflower patch her father had created for her when she was just a little girl. Eleanor hoped to share that special place with her sweet little daughter one day. But she knew now, in this moment, that she had secretly beenholding onto those dreams. Hoping that an everyday, happy life would still be possible. She had to admit now that those dreams were dead. They had died with James. She would have to envision a new life with James. A different life, but it may still be a happy one.
Blackwood’s voice followed her as she fled. “Remember, Eleanor: loyalty is not merely a choice. It is a state of being.”
Eleanor found James in the clinic’s dimly lit atrium, his silhouette framed by the flickering glow of candles. He stood motionless, gazing at a grand painting of the old estate when it was first constructed, his pale hand tracing the edge of the gilded frame. When he turned to her, his eyes burned with an intensity that made her knees weak.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low and gentle. She stepped closer, her heart pounding. “And yet, here I am.”
James’s expression softened for a moment, his blue eyes gazing into her own, searching for something before the feral look of hunger returned. He reached for her, his fingers cold and unyielding as they brushed her cheek. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Eleanor. Loving me means becoming part of the darkness.”
Eleanor sighed heavily and closed her eyes. The guilt of what she had become, all in the name of reuniting with her lover, consumed her. “I already am a part of the darkness,” she whispered. Her hands found his chest, the cold, smooth texture both revolting and intoxicating. “I know now, I’d do anything for you, James. Anything.”
He pulled her against him, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both brutal and tender. She moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his as his hands explored her with an urgency that bordered on desperation. In that moment, she felt her soul tether itself irrevocably to his, their bond forged in the crucible of love and horror.
Outside, the tension reached a boiling point. The magistrate’s constables returned to their offices with troubling reports, their hushed conversations laced with fear.
“It’s a fortress,” one muttered, shaking his head. “Whatever’s happening inside those walls… It’s not natural.”
Word spread quickly, and soon the city’s streets were alive with speculation. The clergy called for intervention, urging their congregations to pray for salvation. Merchants whispered warnings to their customers, advising them to avoid the clinic at all costs. Even the brothels nearby saw a decline in business, their patrons too frightened to stray near the ominous building.
Meanwhile, Blackwood’s paranoia deepened. He convened his inner circle in the clinic’s undergroundchamber, a cavernous space lit by flickering torches and filled with the hum of galvanic energy.
“The city is against us,” he said, his voice a venomous growl. “But they cannot stop what has already begun. We must tighten our grip. Silence all dissent. And prepare for our next grand ceremony.”
The acolytes nodded, their expressions grim. Eleanor stood among them, her gaze fixed on James. She felt the weight of her choices pressing down on her, but she refused to falter. This was her path now, for better or for worse. If she stopped now, she’d have nothing to show for her descent into this madness, which was unimaginable.
As the night deepened, the clinic’s halls buzzed with frenetic energy. Blackwood issued orders with ruthless efficiency, his acolytes scrambling to prepare for the ceremony. Novices adorned with intricate runes, their bodies trembling as the galvanic field surged around them. The air itself seemed to vibrate, thick with the promise of transformation.
Eleanor found herself alone in the atrium once more, her thoughts consumed by the impending ritual. She knew the risks. She’d read the diaries, seen the horrors that came before. But none of it mattered. James was her world; she would burn for him if it meant keeping him alive.
The distant sound of footsteps pulled her from her reverie. Blackwood appeared, his expression unreadable.
“The time is near,” he said, his voice a low, resonant echo that seemed to vibrate through the walls. “Are you ready to give everything?”
Eleanor locked eyes with him, her trembling uncertainty masked by a veil of fierce resolve. “I already have.”
Blackwood’s smile widened, sharp and predatory, sending a cold shiver down her spine. “Good. Then let us begin.”
As the clock struck midnight, a distant bell tolled, its mournful clang swallowed by the night like a harbinger of doom. Outside the clinic, shadows moved in the darkness. Armed men assembled with grim determination, their whispered plans slipping through the cold air. They knew what lay within, and yet no prayer could prepare them for the horrors they would face.
Inside, the air felt thick, alive with an unnatural charge. Blackwood and his acolytes moved with chilling precision, their preparations fevered and methodical. The sigils carved into the floor glowed faintly, pulsing like the beat of some malevolent heart. The clinic groaned under the weight of unseen forces, as if recoiling from the blasphemy unfolding within.
Eleanor stood motionless, James at her side, his half-living presence a cruel contradiction. The warmth of his touch was deceptive, masking the monstrous reality lurking beneath. She felt the pull of his love, obsession, and despair, all tangled together like a rope tightening around her throat. At the centre of it all, their connection burned like a fragile flame, a light in the darkness and a spark that could ignite the world.
The grand ceremony loomed, a maelstrom waiting to swallow them whole. Its shadow stretched over the city like an oncoming storm, the air heavy with the promise of blood and ruin. The final confrontation was no longer inevitable, it was here. And as the first haunting chant rose, Eleanor’s breath hitched. This was the moment everything would change. The world would either be remade… or destroyed.
Excerpt from the journal of Lord Alastair Blackwood
That bitch, Eleanor Ashcroft, had the audacity to slap me. Even as I write the words, I cannot believe I let her walk away after that. I can’t say why I did, exactly, only that she seems quite changed in her own right. There is a power within her that I did not foresee, which makes the idea of getting rid of her much more difficult. She will not go down easily, and the bond between her and the subject remains strong. If something happens to her, I fear what the subject will do in retaliation. By her account, the subject is different from his previous self, but he is not yet the feral monster that Subject A was. Only time will tell if we can fully bring him back or if he will remain in this twilight space between life and death forever.
I have also rooted out the betrayer and made her suffer sufficiently. The Devotion Trial was conducted, and fortunately for the girl, she did pass. But she suffered greatly as she should. Her soul rejoiced at the prospect of suffering for our cause. I could see the devotion in her eyes, the sweet expectation of release to come if she endured. Brave girl. I may have to reward her.
I look forward to continuing our journey as we venture deeper and deeper into that mystical realm. Bringing back the dead was just the beginning. We will create a whole new world and bring every human being a new way of life. Those out there will be tearfully thanking me on their knees once they learn to embrace their fate fully.
ATrial of Devotion
