Chapter 4
Chapter Four
My ears were ringing and my pulse was so erratic I could hardly swim back to the other side of the lake. When I’d finally pulled myself out and dressed, Bernard was barking. Even the dog knew I was behind schedule.
Water droplets trickled down my elbows and into the ground as I twisted my long hair, wringing it out and attempting to smooth it back into something my head covering could contain.
Bernard nudged at my arm, guiding me back towards the trail.
“I know, buddy, I know.” I pointed at the wolfhound and narrowed my gaze.
“Also, you didn’t see anything just now.
I was with no one; nothing happened. You saw nothing. ”
The dog cocked his head.
“Well, of course you didn’t, you’re blind… but still.”
The mystery woman would be long gone by now. Even so, I kept glancing over my shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of her. Some sign left behind in the forest to prove that she was real. Did all of those moments truly transpire? Or was it some sort of illusion, a dream, or a fantasy?
I didn’t have time to mull it over as my furry companion eagerly shoved me down the trail. “Why so bossy today, Bernard? It wouldn’t be the first time I swam too long and arrived late for lunch.” The dog only whined, urging me ahead.
When we finally broke the tree line, the sky had grown two shades darker.
Pushing through the brush, I landed on the outskirts of the field again, out and above the spindly town of Howl Moor.
The Altar Church of Lost Souls speared towards the sky in the distance.
All black and jagged, its red door a tiny beacon, a prick of blood, calling me home, demanding my attention like any wound does.
The moment I stepped forward, two sounds suddenly shook the ground at once.
The first startled me, a clap of thunder overhead.
Pandorian was right in predicting the weather yet again—this time with near pinpoint accuracy as to the time of the storm.
However, it wasn’t the clashing clouds that morphed the shock of the rumble into something deeper in my gut.
It was the howl that tore through the woods at the exact moment the storm erupted.
Bernard glanced back towards the trail, nose high and sniffing. If it weren’t for that, I could have pretended I didn’t hear it. I could have explained it away as a trick of my mind. But the dog had heard it, too.
Shaking away a chill that pricked the hairs on my arms, I hurried my pace, now resting my grip on Bernard’s collar for comfort.
My shoulder blades seemed to tingle at the eerie sensation that something watched as I walked back to the church.
Or perhaps that was guilt from the secret thing I’d just done with a woman in the woods.
Another voice within me whispered, “Maybe it’s the devil.’
“Guilt is the devil,” I countered. If that were true, then the first voice could have been right. Could it have been the devil in the woods? Was it the devil who howled, pained that I’d gotten away with a moment of naked bliss?
A priest might know.
My Reverend Mother might have the answers, too.
Though, I was neither of those. My station was that of a lowly nun, and I longed for neither priesthood or to advance my station and become a reverend mother myself someday.
No, this was the end of the aisle for me.
My roadmap to escape had ended here and here I’d remain.
When you’d promised your life to god and god alone, what more was there to dream for?
What more did I have to aspire to? My life was that of servitude, prayer, and surrender.
That’s all it would be until I died of either old age or boredom—whichever caught up with me first.
Bernard trotted off to find the garden shed and a nap, while I stumbled into the mudroom.
I kicked off Pandorian’s boots and smoothed my black tunic.
Glancing in the small mirror above the coat rack, I tucked in a few stray onyx hairs, covering them with the white band of my habit.
The only color left when I was robed was that of my green eyes.
A small piece of defiance god had afforded me, knowing my vows would forbid me to ever wear color again.
My cheeks were fuchsia from the run, or from the experience in the lake.
Memories flashed back as clear and bright as the lightning that illuminated the room.
The woman’s nipple in my mouth, her long blonde hair, the way her ass swished as she stepped out of the water… I bit the corner of my lip.
Demon lips, she’d called me.
I didn’t mind that nickname. It sounded dangerous—just like her.
The bittersweet aroma of squash wafted through the halls.
It would be roasted squash, or sautéed squash, or perhaps a squash quiche if the chickens had been laying.
Our Reverend Mother Veilentine had overplanted the crop, leading to an abundance of the mushy vegetables.
We’d been passing them out in bundles and bags to the townsfolk each trip into Howl Moor and even still, the yellow and green gourds continued to produce.
I hoped the newcomer was ready for a mundane, ordinary, bland, and unsalted life at The Altar Church of Lost Souls.
Delilyx giggled from the kitchen and the low tone of Veilentine speaking drew me around the corner and down the short hall to our modest kitchen.
Sucking in a deep breath, I wavered outside the door.
Just another visiting nun. She’s no one special.
She won’t stay. She won’t threaten your place here.
Reverend Mother and the sisters will not like her more than they like you.
They won’t cast you away. This isn’t like last time at your old church.
Altar Church is different. A visit from a boring, plain nun.
Just like any other. This is fine, I’m okay.
Stepping out and into the kitchen, I pasted on a worn smile.
All backs were turned to me and focused on the visiting nun, who I could only make out as another black and white habit in the center.
They were talking about Delilyx and Pandorian’s newest baking venture.
I cleared my throat as I neared. Reverend Mother and each sister turned, still blocking the newcomer from full view.
“Sister Jezebella!” Delilyx clapped. “You’re just in time to meet our newest friend and Sister in Christ.”
Pandorian clicked her cheek as she took in my wet attire. “Told you it was going to rain.”
“You were right, as usual.” I shrugged.
Reverend Mother moved toward me then, her hazel eyes warm as she smiled. “I’m pleased to introduce our guest from The Abbey of Silent Damnation. This is Sister Lilith.”
The girls parted then, revealing the new nun, standing with her hands clutched together. Her black tunic was wrinkled and her head covering stained with droplets from the rain. “It’s a pleasure—” The words died on my tongue as I met her blue gaze.
Angel eyes.
The smallest wisp of golden hair furled from underneath her habit. Sister Lilith’s sapphire stare widened, and her bright smile faded as her gaze flitted from my eyes to my lips.
Demon lips.
My knees buckled beneath me and I held onto the kitchen table for support. Reverend Mother reached for me, helping me steady. “Are you well, Sister Jezebella?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sister Pandorian said.
Sister Delilyx hurried to the stove. “That hike into the woods had to have tired you, Sister Jezebella. Here, please eat, we made squash soup. Sister Lilith had the wonderful idea to add a dash of cinnamon. It really gives it a secret little punch.”
“Little secrets are such fun…” Sister Lilith stopped short with a cough before needlessly adjusting her collar. “Aren’t they, Sister Jezebella?”
My balmy hands clutched the table as a bowl of steaming yellow soup appeared in front of me. My convent companions encouraged me to eat, but as I brought the warm liquid to my mouth, all that rolled over my tongue was the memory of Sister Lilith’s nipples.
This couldn’t be happening.
The stranger in the lake was a well-traveled woman out for a swim before passing through town. The mysterious woman whose tits were under my palms just hours prior was an apparition. The rogue, naked being that swam with me and offered me her perfect body was an angel from heaven.
Any of those were more plausible than the reality that now stood at the stove, stirring the big metal pot and avoiding looking in my direction.
The nun.
The nun I’d just sucked on.
Sister Lilith.
Sister Lilith with perfect whimpers.
After slurping down a few gulps worth to deceptively convince my sisters I was indeed well, I stood, screeching my chair across the floor.
“Reverend Mother, I’d like to request to skip afternoon prayers today and take a rest. My head is…
” I glanced to Sister Lilith, who stared into the pot at the stove as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Dizzy… I’m a bit lightheaded.”
“It was your trip into the woods.” Pandorian crossed her arms and shook her head. “I always worry about you going out there all alone. Who knows what you could find.”
“Or what could find you,” Delilyx chimed in ominously, clearing my bowl from the table.
The ladle clanked against the pot on the stove. “Sorry,” Sister Lilith muttered, grabbing a towel to wipe up the soup she’d spilled. “I’m a bit clumsy.”
Reverend Mother Veilentine held my shoulders, giving me an assessing once-over with her stern hazel gaze. “I’d agree you look a touch pale, Sister Jezebella.” She gave my arms a gentle squeeze. “Go rest for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow morning… meet me for our morning prayers.”
A surge of heat dropped through my body.
Suddenly I was feeling a lot better.
I guessed the new visitor wouldn’t put a damper on our sessions.
“Yes.” I nodded in agreement.
Reverend Mother tilted my chin with her thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet her hazel eyes. “Yes, what?” she said lowly.
These were innocent and inconsequential actions in a room full of people… something darker hiding in plain sight—just like Sister Lilith and me. How many times had she done this same maneuver, asked this same question, gazing down at me between her ample thighs?
I swallowed before whispering, “Yes, Reverend Mother.”
Veilentine’s eyebrow quirked, which I’d learned meant she was pleased. My chest warmed at pleasing her… though my attention drifted past her to my secret angel at the stove. When I glanced over, she was already looking at me. Caught, she flushed and looked back to her stirring.
The faintest outline of her breasts showed beneath her robes. The slightest curvature the garments fought so hard to hide. They couldn’t hide her beauty, could they? It was impossible—even in this drab, avowed attire.
The memory of the prick of her hard nipple against my tongue invaded my mouth again, and I had to squint my eyes tight and shake my head in attempt to rid myself of the thoughts.
“Blessings.” I wished my Reverend Mother.
“Have a nice rest of your day, Sisters. It was… lovely meeting you, Sister Lilith.”
The girls bid me farewell and good health as I turned before risking being caught in the angel’s web of want once more.
As I walked briskly down the cold stone corridor, past wooden crucifixes and paintings of saints looking heavenward, it dawned on me that I would be faced with the temptation of her veiled body each passing day until she left.
Ours was not a dream or encounter we could leave in the lake.
Perhaps without our black and white head coverings and being shielded by the tides, we were suspended in a place hidden from god’s wrath.
However, here within the convent walls of The Altar of Lost Souls, all was beheld by the divine.
Like a mirror etched in the cobblestone walls, not even the yards of fabric that wrapped my body in its modesty could hide me from the phantom caress that remained from the pierce of Sister Lilith’s touch.
Now, I’d be faced with it daily.
In the pews at prayer.
Side by side in confession.
Lighting candles at Sunday Mass.
Singing hymns.
Serving the community.
Baking with my Sisters in Christ.
My forbidden angel would be there.
Oh, god. How would I survive her?