Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
SUNDAY MASS
The choir’s hymn echoed through the stone halls of The Altar Church of Lost Souls, punctuated by the drum beat of Lilith and my fast footsteps to the sanctuary doors. “I can’t believe we slept in.” Lilith leaned her ear against the door.
“You can’t? I can.” I winked.
Lilith elbowed me in the ribs.
We’d stayed late the previous night with the gathering of Howl Moor women under the moon. Pieces fell into place, confession and prayer were had, and when Lilith and I returned to Altar Church, worship was held in our room, as well.
I grabbed her hand. “We’ll go in the side entrance.” Lilith giggled, following after me as we turned a corner—and I slammed right into someone.
Reverend Mother grabbed my shoulders, a flash of surprise passing across her features.
“We’re sorry we’re late, we—”
Veilentine shook her head. “It’s no matter.” She glanced over my shoulder at Lilith, her mouth tensing. “They’re here. They’ve come.”
The breath from my lungs evaporated. Lilith turned white as a sheet, as if all the blood drained from her face at the words.
Lilith whispered hoarsely. “Where are they?”
“The vicar and a bishop of Silent Damnation are in Mass right now. We will have to face them afterwards.” Reverend Mother squeezed both of our arms. “I think it best you two attend Mass from the balcony today.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say, and thanked her. “May god be with us,” Veilentine said, breezing past us and through the double doors of the sanctuary. Taking Lilith’s hand and interlocking our cold fingers, I took her through a narrow stairwell up to the sanctuary’s balcony.
The choir was still singing, which was longer than normal for an average Mass.
It was then I realized that Father Benedict, likely through Reverend Mother’s guidance, had switched to an Easter Sunday style.
Longer, fuller, more theatric. It felt like too little to impress Silent Damnation’s vicar and bishop, however.
“Which ones are they?” I whispered, leaning slightly over the balcony’s smooth wooden banister.
Lilith pointed to two long-faced men with stringy grey hair, sitting stiffly in a pew in their religious garb. “It is my time to go… these are our last moments.”
“No,” I argued. “We’ll refuse them.”
“I have to go back to my family, Jezebella. I can’t leave them… and I cannot risk you and this church and town merely because I am a coward. No, I will go, and I won’t make a fuss.”
My throat tightened as the choir hummed a forlorn-sounding tune.
I cupped her jaw, memorizing the color of her eyes.
I wanted to remember every shift in hue, the exact pigment of blue that I would be left searching for in every sky, every moth, every robin’s egg and waterfall, and still come up short in finding her beauty anywhere else but her.
“Lilith, I…”
She shook her head. “Don’t say it, please. It’s too hard, I can’t take it.” Her eyes watered. “Can we please… can we just be together in the time we have left. One last… worship service.”
It took me a moment to pull myself from my grief to ascertain her meaning as we stood at the balcony. She faced me, sliding her touch down my hips. Leaning forward, she whispered into my ear, past the veil of my habit. “Please, Jezebella?”
Her breath on my skin, the softness of her touch, and the earnest plea in her voice shocked me from my sorrow. “I think you should listen to Father Benedict’s gospel reading very intently.”
Lilith looked up at me, bewildered, and then down at Father Benedict, who shuffled up to his post, nearly tripping over his elaborate white robes.
I turned her away from me, pushing her hold onto the banister and leaning forward. “If this is to be your last homily at Lost Souls, I don’t want you to miss it.” My grip glided over her rounded ass.
The corner of Lilith’s mouth lifted in awareness. “You are being guided by divine wisdom, Sister… I feel called to listen to the priest’s words, and through them I hope to be filled with the Holy Spirit.”
“Allow me to assist you,” I said, pushing my pelvis against her ass. “I believe I have the Holy Spirit right here…” I reached into where I’d carefully tucked the toy in the waistband of my underwear and pushed it teasingly forward into her. “Would you like to receive it?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Lilith bent forward on the banister and arched her back. “Yes, I would. Fill me, fill me so perfectly, Jezebella.”
I checked the crowd below us. All fixated on Father Benedict, none even knowing we were above them, holding our own telling of the gospel.
The only gospel I ever understood.
I pulled her tunic over her ass, resting it on the perfect arch of her lower back. Slowly, I pulled her undergarments down and took a moment to admire the shape of her glorious body. “You are the only thing in this place worthy of worship,” I breathed.
Lilith spared a look over her shoulder and lifted her lips in a smile. Her gaze dropped to where I held the dildo at my front, my tunic draped over it. “Well, isn’t that a sight to behold?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” I replied, grazing my hand over her ass, dragging my fingers down her wet slit. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “I want you, Jezebella. Make it so I feel you for days after.”
Stepping forward, I nudged the tip of the toy at her entrance. “Look up at the cross above our priest. Cry out to god,” I said, easing the tip in. “Will he forgive our sins, Lilith?”
Her reply was a gargled moan of a whisper. “I hope not.”
With that, I thrust inside her all the way. Lilith gripped the banister, letting out a small sound as Father Benedict recited the same tired lines of the bible we’d all heard a million times. This Sunday Mass of our own wasn’t worn and withered, though. This was divinity.
This was revelation.
I pushed in and out of her, my toy slick with her holy offering, my palm grabbing her ass and relishing her hips. The congregation below none the wiser of the angel and demon in the attic, fornicating just above their bowed and prayerful heads.
When her breathing intensified, a new desire overtook me, and I pulled out.
She turned, looking over her shoulder, flushed cheeks and panting. “Why’d you stop? I’m so close, please don’t leave.”
I pulled on her shoulders, making her face me and lean her backside against the railing. “I want to look into your beautiful eyes while you come. Can I do that?”
Lilith bit the corner of her lip and nodded. “Yes.”
Reaching down, I hooked my grip under her knee and brought her leg to wrap around me. I noted her nervous glance to the pew that held her vicar and bishop. Her face fell slightly as she took in their solemn faces.
“Hold onto my shoulders,” I instructed. “Don’t look at them, don’t close your eyes, don’t look away.
It’s just you and me here. This is our church.
” I kissed her lips. “Your body is my sanctuary. All my prayers, my whole life, have gone to you, Lilith, and they’ll continue for as long as we live.
Will you hear them? Will you accept my silent pleas? ”
“I will,” she whispered. A small gasp left her throat as I pushed the toy back into her. This position was close and intimate. Face to face, body to body, pure soul to wretched soul.
Our bodies moved together, soft and gentle, yet with passion and purpose.
This was more than I’d ever experienced before.
This was something beyond stale worship and tired gospels.
What Lilith and I shared was bigger than these stones could contain.
It was more than any crown of thorns could pierce and holier than any saint looking at us out through stained glass.
Lilith bit my shoulder, stifling her moan. Gripping me close, grinding her hips into mine, she came. Her moan shadowed by the “Amen” the crowd repeated after the priest.
Amen, indeed.