The Cult
: Chapter 11

Rebecca stepped into the room.

But not mine.

“Your demon awaits.”

I looked through the open doorway to see Beatrice sitting on the bed, her daughter on the floor playing with her toys.

Beatrice shifted her eyes to me, like she didn’t know what to do.

Rebecca followed her gaze, and when her sight settled on me, she instantly looked furious. She closed the panels between us, an audible lock clicking into place. “Grab your wings, Angel.”

There was silent shuffling as Beatrice got dressed.

“Mom, where are you going?”

The fact that there was a child here made this place so much more horrific.

They shouldn’t have taken her.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” Beatrice said.

I moved to the closed panel. “I’ll be here right here, Claire. Just keep playing with your toys, and your mom will be back before you know it.”

The footsteps sounded as they left the room. The door shut.

I sat at the edge of the bed and released a sigh, knowing what was in store for Beatrice. She would see her demon, and he was probably just as fucked up as mine. Laura told me some of the demons were worse than others…and she had a good one.

I hoped Beatrice had a good one too.

I guess Forneus would be classified as good…relatively good.

A couple minutes later, I heard the door open.

But it wasn’t my door.

My ears strained, listening for every little sound on the other side.

There were footsteps. Slow footsteps.

Claire was silent.

I launched myself out of the bed and moved to the closed panel. “Claire? Who’s there?”

She was quiet.

I pressed my ear to the door, listening.

More footsteps.

“Claire, answer me!”

“A…a monster…” Her sweet little voice was strained with silent tears, like she was too scared to even cry.

Malevolent.

I shoved my shoulder against the panel, trying to break it down, but it barely vibrated under the force of the collision. “Get away from her, you motherfucker!” I slammed into it again, and when that didn’t work, I tried to yank the panels apart. “Swear to fucking god…”

Claire’s voice grew weaker. “Leave…leave me alone.”

“Aghhh!” I slammed my fists into the wood, the adrenaline kicking in. I dashed to my mattress and pulled out the dagger hidden underneath. My eyes moved to the front door. The doors are always unlocked. You’re free to come and go as you please. I sprinted out the door and into the other room, seeing the Malevolent on one knee in front of her, holding a pill in his hand. He held it out like candy, pushing it toward her as she crawled away, sobbing silently.

I moved at a full sprint.

When he heard me, he looked at me over his shoulder through the holes in the skull so I could see the terror flash when he saw the dagger. His fingers immediately closed over the pill, and he lunged at me.

I didn’t think.

It was all instinct.

I had to protect her. Nothing else mattered.

I took the hit without an ounce of pain, felt the air punched from my lungs, but I felt like I didn’t miss a breath. My hands went to his antlers and dragged them down, slamming him to the floor so hard that it felt like the cabin would crack right down the middle.

Claire screamed as she ran to the corner, sobbing.

I dragged him across the floor and out the door, twisting and turning the cattle skull to snap his neck.

He was too strong, fighting me the whole way, throwing up his arm to grab my leg and yank it so I’d trip.

On the cold ground, unaware of the Malevolent that probably swarmed me from all sides, I dropped my knees to his chest, pushed the breath out of his lungs, and stabbed him right in the stomach.

Again.

And again.

He immediately gasped, his hands going limp by his sides, the air leaving his exposed intestines.

“Ahh!” I kept stabbing and stabbing, blood spraying everywhere, splashing my face with drops. Death wasn’t enough, not for what he’d just tried to do, not for the thought that crossed his mind.

When he was a gutted animal and blood had pooled on the ground underneath him, I stopped. I breathed. The adrenaline faded because the job was done. I’d murdered someone—and didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

I expected to be apprehended, grabbed by the neck and dragged away, but nothing happened.

My breaths were pants, my entire body suddenly feeling the fatigue of the fight. I lifted my chin and looked around me.

I was surrounded by the Malevolent.

They did nothing.

Only stared.

I washed off and changed before I went back to Claire.

Because all the blood on my hands, my clothes, my face…would just make it worse.

She was in the corner where she’d scurried away, her arms around her knees, crying.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I moved into the corner with her, and when I opened my arms to hold her, she rushed into my embrace. “Shh…” My hand cupped the back of her head, and I rocked her slowly, like she was a baby. “He’s gone.”

She sobbed into my chest, so upset all she could do was cry and convulse.

“I won’t let them hurt you, okay? I promise.” I held her and let her cry it out, let her cry until the tears stopped, let her replace comfort in my embrace in her own time. It was wrong to tell her not to cry, to buck up and brush it off. I was a grown woman, and even I couldn’t process what just happened.

Minutes later, she calmed down enough to stop her tears and pull away. Her pretty little face was all puffy and blotchy with redness, and there was still a well of fear behind her eyes. “Where’s Mommy? Did…they get her?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be back soon.” She was a sweetheart, and knowing her mother was going through…whatever she was going through…would just break her heart. A mother shouldn’t have to go through this with her daughter in tow, and a little girl shouldn’t have to go through this…and worry about her mom.

“I want Daddy…”

My fingers moved through her hair, brushing through the strands in an attempt to make her feel better. “I know, honey. He’ll be here soon.” It was hard to lie to a child, knowing that he believed she was dead, was suffering that agony at home. He wasn’t coming. No one was coming. But she needed the lie right now—not the truth. “Claire, if someone tries to give you something again, don’t take it, okay? It’s not candy.”

“Then what is it?”

She would never understand. “Something really, really bad. Don’t ever take it, okay? If I’m not around and your mom isn’t here, just tuck it into your cheek and don’t swallow it. Whatever you do, don’t swallow it.”

“Why? What will happen…?”

“Just don’t, okay?” I whispered. “Promise me.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

I hugged her close to my side and ran my fingers over her hair, listening to her breaths as they became weaker, further apart, quiet. She eventually knocked out, slumped against me on the floor.

Even though she was out, I stroked her hair anyway.

I was determined to get out of this place, but now even more so.

I had to get this kid out of here.

Claire and I slept together on her bed, the two of us under the sheets, close together. With Beatrice gone, I didn’t want to leave Claire on her own, not just because I feared the Malevolent would return, but because she shouldn’t be alone…not after that.

I was asleep when her voice woke me up.

“Constance?”

My eyes opened at the sound of her sweet voice, and I blinked a couple times as I stared at her. My body was exhausted after the fight, after the adrenaline fatigued me, and it took concentration to focus on her face in the dark. “What is it, baby?”

“Mom still isn’t back yet.”

There were no clocks, so I didn’t know the time. All I could do was gauge the time by the light coming through the windows. It was dark outside, with a hint of sunrise. That meant she’d been gone all evening.

I already knew what they’d done to her. “She’ll be back soon.”

“But why is she still gone?”

“I’m not sure. But I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She was beside me on the other pillow, the sheets pulled to her shoulder, the cotton sleeve of her white shirt poking out a bit. Her hands were pulled to her chest underneath the blankets, her knees folded in tight, making herself as small as possible. “Do you have any kids?”

“Not yet.” And not ever, probably.

“Are there other kids here?”

“No.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Not sure. Must have been a mistake.”

“I miss my dad… I miss my friends… I miss my room.”

The amount of suffering I’d endured didn’t compare to this. It was just so wrong that a child was there, living in a nightmare that would scar her for life. She spent most of her time in the cabin or at the church with the other angels, so her mind was shielded then, but I suspected that would change if we didn’t get out of here. “You’ll be back soon enough.”

“I hope so. My dad must miss me.”

Oh, she had no idea. “He’ll be so happy to have you back. What are you guys going to do first?”

“We go to the movies a lot.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“And we play house with my dolls.”

I suppressed the smile that wanted to take up my face, because Benton did not look like a man who played house with a little girl, moving dolls around and making them talk. But clearly, he was a different man for his little girl. I remembered what Beatrice had said. There’s only one woman that man will ever love. The rest of us mean nothing to him. But that was how it should be.

“Can I play with you guys sometime?”

“Sure.” Her eyes started to light up with excitement, her thoughts on normal stuff now, not scary men with the skulls. “I have a whole collection of dolls. Ruby, Diane—” She went on, telling me about all her toys, about her classmates, about her favorite gelato they would get together.

I’d tried to dispel her fear by talking about normal things, but she was the one who made me feel better. I could picture the two of them together, sitting in a café with their gelatos on cones, a father spending time with his daughter.

It was beautiful.

The door opened.

Claire jerked at the sound. “Mom?”

I got out of bed and grabbed my dagger from the nightstand.

The Malevolent came in, Beatrice in their arms.

They dropped her on the bed, stared at me for a few heartbeats as I gripped the dagger, and then disappeared.

“Mommy?” Claire crawled over to her mom and looked down at her.

Beatrice was unresponsive, blinking her eyes a couple times but unable to focus on anything. Her breathing was quick, a direct contradiction to her sleepy appearance, and I knew the drugs were still rampant in her system.

“What’s wrong with my mom?” Claire asked.

“She took that pill I told you not to take. So, make sure you never take it.” It was hard on our bodies, but on a child… It might kill her.

Claire nodded.

I pressed my fingers to Beatrice’s head, feeling the scorching temperature. “Beatrice, it’s Constance. I’m right here, alright? Just relax and wait for it to pass. You’re in a safe place now. Just relax…”

I couldn’t tell if she could hear a word I said.

Claire grabbed her mother’s hand and held it. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes,” I said confidently. “She just needs a couple—” When I looked down, I noticed a spot of red. It was coming from Beatrice, soaking into the sheets. “Claire, come with me.” I took her hand and escorted her into my room. “Just get some sleep. I’m going to take care of your mom, okay?”

“But…I don’t want to be alone.”

“Just call my name, and I’ll be here in a few seconds, alright?” I helped her into bed and tucked her in, like I would read her a bedtime story and she’d drift right to sleep. “Get some sleep.”

I went back into the other room and turned Beatrice over.

Blood.

It came from her back.

She gave an incoherent moan.

I lifted up her shirt…and what I saw was horrific.

She’d been carved—with a knife.

Slits over her shoulder blades…where her wings would attach if they were real. “Oh shit…” I went into the bathroom and found what I could, trying to stop the bleeding from the flesh. It had mostly stopped already, but I didn’t want her to lose too much blood, and even if she didn’t, she would get an infection if this wasn’t covered.

“Beatrice…I’m so sorry.” I examined her face, seeing the sweat on her forehead, hearing her irregular breathing. She was high and in unimaginable pain. When the drug wore off, she would feel even worse if I didn’t get her some pain meds.

I was furious.

More than furious.

There wasn’t a word for it.

I grabbed my dagger off the nightstand and marched into the darkness. In white jeans and a t-shirt, I stepped into the night, the torches lit with flames, the sculptures still bright in the firelight.

The Malevolent were there—lurking in the shadows.

“Forneus!” My bare feet stung against the frozen ground, but that pain was disregarded in light of my duress. The sea of faces that stared at me were practically wallpaper. I’d killed one of them, and you bet your ass I’d do it again. “Forneus!” My scream pierced the night, made an owl hoot in response, echoed back at me against the trees. If anyone were nearby, they would hear my screams. I turned in a circle, looking at the skulls staring at me, waiting for the demon to emerge.

When they all turned in one direction, I knew he approached.

He came down the stone steps, dressed in sweatpants and nothing else. His bare feet hit the stone just as mine hit the damp soil. His muscular body swayed slightly with his movements, the cuts of muscle visible in the firelight. Demonic eyes were trained on me, his signature smile gone. He reached the earth and slowly approached me, his arms at his sides. “My an-gel.”

I’d never forget the first time I saw him in that theatre, a monster in a Stephen King novel. He looked exactly the same, maniacal and obsessed, but there was a bit more to his look now.

“Your demon has come.”

There was possessiveness now.

Even affection.

It was all disturbing. “I need bandages, gauze, alcohol. Now.”

His stare was the same, as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Please.”

“Are you hurt, An-gel?”

“No. But another angel is.”

His fair and unblemished skin reflected in the firelight, having no sign of bruises or scars, no sign of a hard day’s work. He was untouched…while Beatrice was mutilated. “I need to help her. Please.”

Nothing.

I came close, getting in his face, unafraid of repercussion. “It’s a sin to hurt an angel. A demon has committed a sin, and it’s your obligation to fix it. Now.” I threw down my arms, desperate to get him moving.

He hadn’t blinked once since we’d come face-to-face.

I didn’t expect anything from him, but he was the one chance I had in this place. Rebecca would ignore me. The Malevolent didn’t speak. He was the only option I had to help her.

He finally gave a nod to one of the Malevolent.

It actually worked? “And pain meds too.”

Forneus returned his stare to me, looking at me with the same intensity as before.

I didn’t know what else to do but stare back and wait.

A moment later, a Malevolent walked up to him, supplies in hand.

Forneus took them while keeping his eyes trained on me, then did the handoff, extending the supplies to me.

In shock, I opened my arms and accepted everything. “Thank you.” I shouldn’t feel a morsel of gratitude, not to this man, not in this place. But this could have gone quite differently…and it didn’t.

He walked away silently and headed back to the stone steps toward the hill. “Heal her wings, An-gel.”

I cleaned her wound, wrapped her up nice and tight, and then left the pills on the nightstand so she could take them once she woke up. The sheets were soiled with blood, so I stripped them away and stuffed them into the closet. Her back would hurt the instant she woke up, so I propped her on her side, a pillow between her knees, and waited.

Sunrise turned into morning.

The light came into the cabin, blanketing the hardwood floor and making the wood give a pop in the heat.

I waited for her to wake up, but I knew she’d be out for a long time.

Claire’s little voice came through the door. “Constance?”

“I’m here, baby.” I went into the other room and fetched her, bringing her to the bed where her mother lay.

“She’s still not awake?” She lay on the bed beside Beatrice.

“No. But she’ll wake up soon.” Beatrice was still now, sleeping hard, the drug finally out of her system so she could sleep soundly.

My life felt like a nightmare.

Why did Forneus have to lie to Benton?

He might have had the means to save us all.

Hours passed. Breakfast and lunch were served. Claire and I ate but left Beatrice’s food so she would have something to eat when she woke up.

It wasn’t until dinnertime that her eyes opened.

She immediately sucked in a deep breath, wincing in pain, coming to in a fright.

My arm moved around her shoulders, and I helped her sit up. “Hey, it’s me. Constance. I’m here. We’re in your cabin. They’re gone.” I knew exactly what to say because I knew how it felt to wake up and immediately remember the torture. Only, her torture was worse than mine. I ran through a forest and found hope in the form of a river. She was carved like Christmas dinner.

She took several deep breaths, her hand moving to her chest, all of her senses igniting. Her eyes took in Claire beside her, staring at her daughter’s blue eyes and blond hair. “Claire…”

“Mommy.” The child’s hand grabbed hers.

Just like any mother, she cared about her daughter’s well-being more than her own. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Constance protected me.”

“Protected you…? Protected you from what?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “We’ll talk about it later.” I ran my fingers through her hair just the way I did with Claire. “You need to eat something and get these pills down.” I helped her to the edge of the bed before I grabbed the tray of food and the pills.

Beatrice didn’t look at the food on her lap. Her hand explored her back, stilling when she found the bandages under her shirt. She froze, eyes wide, everything coming back to her in a heartbeat.

“You’re safe now, Beatrice.” It was impossible to be pragmatic about this, to ignore how traumatic this moment really was, every moment in this place. Watching someone else go through this torture was much worse than going through it myself, and it gave me a sharper lens into the suffering. My eyes moistened, but I kept the tears back, knowing it would just make it harder if someone were to mirror her sorrow back at her.

She must have been in really serious pain, because all she cared about were the pills. She swallowed them dry and closed her eyes, like she had a migraine.

“I know you’re nauseated right now, but you’ll feel better if you eat—”

“They mutilated me…” She inhaled a deep breath, digesting the horror of the memory, her mind elsewhere while her body remained behind. “They wanted to see my wings…and cut my back to replace them…” She cupped her mouth and broke into sobs, soul-crushing, uncontrollable sobs.

I stayed in their room for the night.

Claire fell asleep on the couch, her toys around her.

Since Beatrice had slept all day and all night, she was wide awake, grimacing in pain from her cuts. She kept popping the pills, but over-the-counter meds weren’t enough to subdue the kind of pain she endured.

She sat in the chair at her bedside next to the harp, her eyes forever in a daze. She seemed to relive the experience over and over again, even though it was torture, but she had to in order to make sense of what she’d suffered.

But there was no sense to be made of it.

I sat at the edge of the bed, wishing there were more I could do. “We’ll replace a way out of here, Beatrice. We just gotta keep our eyes on the prize.”

Lifeless, she stared at a random spot on the other wall.

“I still have my dagger. He didn’t take it away from me.”

Nothing.

“Beatrice…talk to me.”

She finally looked at me, her eyes heavy. “What happened with Claire?”

I glanced at the sleeping child, who was out like a light, tired out from the shitty day. “A Malevolent came in here…tried to get her to take a pill.”

“A child?” She raised her voice and immediately winced in self-punishment. When she spoke again, she was quiet. “Jesus Christ, this place…” She inhaled a slow breath and dropped her gaze. “What happened?”

“I killed him.”

“You killed him?” Her voice rose again.

“Yeah…” Everything had happened so fast that I didn’t really have a chance to reflect on what had taken place.

“How?”

“My dagger.”

“They didn’t take it away from you?”

I shook my head.

“They didn’t…do anything to you?”

I shook my head again. “They just watched me do it, and that was it. They took the body at some point.”

“And they let you keep a weapon?”

I nodded.

“So, they carve me like a pumpkin…but let you keep a knife.” She looked away. “That makes a lot of sense…”

Forneus had known that it was in my hand, that I could have stabbed him in the stomach on the spot, but he didn’t seem to care. He’d known it was tucked into my sleeve when he watched me lie there, and he still didn’t care. He must have thought he was truly immortal or…that I didn’t have the balls to do it.

Well, I proved today that I did have the balls.

“Who bandaged me up?” she whispered.

“I did. I cleaned the wound, so you shouldn’t get an infection.”

“Where did you get the supplies?”

“Forneus.”

She stared at me, skeptical. “He just helped you?”

“I couldn’t believe it either.”

“Consider yourself lucky, because Amon…that would never happen.”

I wanted to ask about her demon, but that felt insensitive right now. Besides, I had all the information I needed to know. He was psychotic. He made my sneering demon look like a fucking clown.

Her expression glazed over once again, her eyes lifeless. “If he helped you with that, what else would he help you with?”

“I don’t know…haven’t considered it.” My time spent with Forneus hadn’t allowed me to understand him better. I understood him less, if anything. But it was conclusive that he was relatively harmless compared to some of the other demons. Never thought I’d be grateful for that sick, twisted smile. “Take my dagger next time…and kill him.”

“I can barely handle a butter knife at dinnertime.”

“Just aim for the heart.” I could actually give advice on this, because I’d done it. It was all instinct. All survival. All vengeance.

“He’s so big… The guy is like six four.”

I didn’t stand a chance either. Forneus wasn’t lanky and strange like the Malevolent I’d killed. And killing that man didn’t really change anything anyway. But killing Amon could stop Beatrice from being carved again.

“He doesn’t believe I’m an angel…wants me to prove myself.”

Shit.

“I was so high that I didn’t really understand what he was doing at the time, but he was searching for my wings. Apparently, he goes through his angels pretty quickly…”

Then we had to get out of there as soon as possible.

Her arms crossed over her chest, shadows on her face, her eyes down. “I don’t think I can do this.” Tears started to build. “When life gets hard, you take a break. You walk away from that toxic person, get a babysitter if you need to be alone for a while, swallow those pills to make that migraine stop. But this…there are no breaks. There’s no pause button. I wake up every morning in this stupid fucking cabin and walk out the door to see a sea of monsters staring back at me. The drugs, the cuts, they’re terrible. But the mental torture…I think that’s the worst part.”

It was easy to get swept up in her words, because truer words had never been spoken. The exact thoughts had passed through my head before, but I wouldn’t allow myself to say them aloud, to burden someone else with the realization in case they hadn’t already come to the same conclusion.

“I’m gonna be the first one in that graveyard…like all the others.”