Page 59 of The Flesh Remembers
Eleanor felt tears spring to her eyes at the thought of what love had meant to her before this hellish nightmare. Love had been tender, gentle, and beautiful. Now it was a dark and frightful thing that preyed on gentleness and beauty. Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek. His touch was cold, almost lifeless, but it sent a shiver of longing and terror down her spine.
“Show me,” he murmured. “Show me how much you love me.”
The participants returned to the sanctum, their bodies bruised and bloodied but vibrating with manic energy. The Chain of Thorns was ready, its cruel harnesses in a perfect circle around the glowing apparatus. Eleanor hesitated as an attendant approached her, holding one of the thorned belts.
“Do not fear the pain,” the woman said softly. “It will bring you closer to him.”
Eleanor’s hands trembled as she took the harness, the sharp thorns biting into her palms. She slipped it over her head, the barbs digging into her skin and drawing small rivulets of blood that ran down her sides. Around her, the other participants did the same, their faces contorted in a mix of agony and arousal.
The circle formed, each person pressed against the next, their bodies swaying in rhythm as the chanting began. The pain of the thorns blended with the heat of the apparatus, creating a wave of sensation that rippled through the group. Some participants moaned, their cries growing louder as the energy intensified. Others wept openly, their tears mingling with the blood that dripped steadily onto the floor.
Eleanor felt her mind slipping, her thoughts dissolving into a haze of pleasure and pain. James appeared in the centre of the circle, his body glowing faintly as he reached out to her. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of sensation through her, making her gasp.
“You’re almost there,” he whispered. “Just one more step.”
Blackwood’s voice cut through the chaos, his tone triumphant. “It is time,” he declared. “The apparatus demands one final sacrifice.”
Nurse Marian Collins stepped forward, her face pale but determined. “Take me,” she said, her voice steady. “If it will bring him back, take me.”
“Marian, no!” Eleanor cried, her heart filling with fear as she watched Marian step closer and closer towards James.
“No, no, I won’t allow this!” Fairfax cried out from his place by the apparatus.
“Don’t worry, Eleanor, Ambrose, this is what I want. I need to do this. I need to be important in this process somehow, don’t you see? Please allow me this. I must give myself to James completely, just as you do.” Then, to Fairfax, Marian smiled sadly and said softly, “My dear Ambrose, please allow me this. Allow me to see our work completed. Please let me be an important part of this. It is all I’ve ever wanted, to be important to you.” Marian reachedout and touched Fairfax’s cheek, which was stained with freely flowing tears.
“Marian…” Fairfax whispered again, but he slumped back against the machine, his eyes lost and vacant. Fairfax seemed to accept defeat; all that remained was a husk of who he had once been.
Eleanor’s heart shattered as Marian knelt before the apparatus, her soft, white hands reached for James in supplication. He cupped her face gently, his expression soft but predatory.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
The apparatus flared to life, its light blinding as Marian screamed, her body convulsing in pure ecstatic agony as her lifeforce was drained. James held her in his arms, absorbing the life that was ripped from Marian’s now limp body. Eleanor could only watch, frozen in horror and desire, as the ritual completed and James stepped forward, fully resurrected, but no longer entirely human.
His eyes met hers as he let Marian drop to the ground, her sacrifice already forgotten, and she knew:she had created a monster.
The moon bled across the sky. Every eye in the clinic turned upward, mouths open, hearts pounding. Winds stilled to an unnatural hush, the cries of night birds choked into silence. The torches lining the hidden courtyard spat and guttered, their flames quivering as though in terror. High above, the moon split the heavens with its vermilion glare, shadows writhing across its surface as though the celestial body had begun to bleed.
Eleanor stood at the centre of it all, her bare feet pressed against the cold stone. Cultists knelt in concentric circles around her, their chants rising in unholy harmony, theundulating rhythm like a tide pulling her toward some unknown abyss. Every flicker of torchlight, every whispered verse, seemed to twist time itself. One moment, she glimpsed the cult leader raising his hands in supplication; in the next, the same figure loomed inches from her face, his breath hot and wet as he whispered, "Mother of Flesh."
Her heart pounded, but not from fear. She felt James beside her, yet his presence was distorted. Over the past days, the apparatus had pulled him deeper into its dark embrace. His form flickered between shadow and substance, his features hollowed, but his eyes burning with unearthly power. And on the dais, the apparatus loomed, a monstrous construct now of bone and metal, writhing with veins of glowing light. The air around it vibrated with an ominous hum. The cult called it their altar, but Eleanor knew it for what it was: a predator.
The apparatus beckoned her, its many mouths whispering, moaning, "Eleanor... come... join..." The cultists’ chants grew frenzied as she stepped forward, her body trembling with both dread and compulsion. She could feel the apparatus’s pull, which was not physical but deep within her soul. Her skin tingled, and then it began, her body unravelling.
It was not violent, though it felt like her flesh was being peeled away as though coaxed, revealing a lattice of glowing nerves and sinew beneath. Eleanor did not scream; she moaned, the sensation an unbearable fusion of agony and ecstasy as the energy of the single cry escaped her lips as the apparatus surged into her exposed form, every nerve alight with a narcotic euphoria. The cultists gasped in awe, crawling toward her on their hands and knees.
"Mother of the New Flesh," they chanted, their voices trembling with reverence. They pressed their lips to the blood-slick stones beneath her, licking the crimson trails that dripped from her feet. Eleanor’s legs gave out, but she did not collapse. Tendrils of energy from the apparatus cradledher, lifting her body as though offering her to the moon. Her form began to merge with the machine, the glowing web of her muscles entwining with its veins of light.
James approached, his steps slow and deliberate. His form had solidified, the shadows that once clung to him now woven into his flesh. His eyes burned as he reached for Eleanor, his touch sending waves of searing heat through her unravelling body.
"Eleanor," he murmured, his voice both tender and commanding. "We are one."
He pulled her to him, their bodies colliding in a grotesque embrace. His lips found her neck, his teeth sinking into her flesh. Eleanor gasped, her fingers clawing at his back as his mouth drank deeply. Blood pooled between them, but she felt no pain, only a consuming euphoria as her essence flowed into him. She could feel herself dissolving, her vitality feeding his resurrection. And yet, she craved it, the sensation more intoxicating than anything she had ever known.
Around them, the cultists fell upon each other in a frenzy of violent lust. Teeth tore flesh, nails raked skin, and the courtyard became a tableau of carnage. They sought to mimic the communion they witnessed, to taste the ecstasy of annihilation.
The apparatus’s mouths, which had whispered and moaned, now screamed. They opened wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth that glistened with saliva. The cultists nearest to the machine had no chance to flee. The mouths latched onto them, tongues wrapping around limbs, pulling them in piece by piece. Flesh tore in long, wet strips, their screams of pain morphing into delirious laughter as they were consumed.
The apparatus pulsed, its framework growing wetter, more organic. Veins throbbed, and its surface glistened like livingtissue. Eleanor’s arms stretched unnaturally toward the hungry mouths, her body no longer entirely hers. James caught her wrist, pulling her back.
