Page 64 of Lovely Violent Things

Then I hear the guttural moans. The sickening, disembodied sounds echo against the walls of the cave.

The higher men.

The victims.

They move in closer to the circle of fire. Shadow and light emphasizes the grotesquely mutilated features of their faces. Eyes sewn shut, thick black stitches slash their discolored lids, the sockets concaved. Bodies unclothed, their bare skin gleams with sweat and blood. Fawn skin drapes the shoulders of many of the women. Men are clad only in armbands—and they’re aroused,erect. Their movements are disjointed, enacting a disturbing dance to the rising drumbeat, which stems from a shadowed man striking some archaic drum.

They’re not just terrifying figures, or victims, or pictures from files. Despite their marred features, I recognize Roni Elsher and Vince Lipton. Two of the victims I studied to interview their families.

These arepeople.

People who had lives. Families and careers.

Still dazed, I try to keep this thought central as a wave of sickness crashes over me at the sight of their horrifying presence. I touch the cool earth to calm myself. Before the fire, symbols have been carved into the hard-packed dirt to ring the magic circle.

And I realize, as panic rakes my insides, I’m at the center.

This is some version of hell.

And Devyn is its goddess.

Fearless, she walks through the flames unscathed to enter the circle. Adorned only in a necklace of bone, gauzy skirt, and armbands with the same sheer fabric, she holds her head high. The spiny antlers atop her head reach toward the cave ceiling. She’s a Dionysian priestess, and every wicked fantasy from the underworld come to life.

This is her replica of the Dionysian Mysteries to support her delusion.

I can reach her.

Ihaveto reach her.

Despite the heat from the perimeter fire, my skin prickles with a chill as Devyn approaches. Inhaling a steadying breath, I dig my fingers into the soil to feel the cool earth, something real and tangible to latch on to reality. “I’m here,” I whisper to myself. I close my eyes and fist the dirt. “I’m here. I’m here…”

I find the scar on my arm, trace the inked words tattooed over the ruined flesh. Recite them over and over.One must cultivate one’s own garden.

The garden is this moment in time.

And I, within it, is all I have control over.

The panic encasing my senses subsides, but only slightly. The drug coursing my system makes me feel as disembodied as the moans.

Devyn’s consuming presence draws near, and I’m forced to open my eyes. My gaze travels up her naked body. In her right hand she holds a thyrsus, the god’s staff coiled in ivy. In her left, she carries a silver chalice engraved with stars, moons, and other symbols I’m unable to discern.

She drinks from the cup, sending a rivulet of red dripping down the corner of her mouth. As her eyes fall to me, her pupils are blown. She’s not just intoxicated; she’s drugged out of her mind.

“What did you give me?” I ask, my voice hoarse, my stomach pitching in need to rid the contents.

Her backdrop of flame and disfigured herd lends to her ethereal appearance. “A little taste of ecstasy,” Devyn says, her persona fully absorbed in a frenetic state as she sways. “To reach our zenith, we have to submit toekstasis.”

Devyn snaps her fingers, and a woman with reedy antlers and her dark, naked skin decorated in red symbols walks through the fire. She’s carrying the circlet of ivy, bone, and fawn antlers—the one Kallum designed for me to wear in his ritual, the one I gave to Devyn along with the other evidence.

Staring past the woman’s shoulder, I see the same symbols on the wall that’s marked on her skin…then the lifeless stag right below.

As Devyn offers her the chalice, I realize it’s not filled with wine.

And the stag is not the main sacrifice tonight.

After handing off the staff to the woman, Devyn sinks down in front of me and, taking my face between her palms, she begins to rock us to the rhythmic drumming. “Don’t look at them,” she whispers. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Body exposed and skin blanketed in gooseflesh, I surrender to her movements, letting her sway our bodies as I try to find her through our drug induced state. “Devyn, please listen to me—”

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