Candles surround the altar. They are black and very tall, but what is most remarkable is that they burn with purple flames. The sober light spills over the marble and the silent participants like a glow from an unearthed volcano. The tension in the air is palpable and it is not something I would wish to touch. I sense that Landulf strives for tension in his rites.
Landulf stands and walks to the center of the pentagram.
He raises his hand with the knife.
The group begins to sing, and for a moment I am bewildered. For it sounds to me as if they are singing the Catholic Mass in Latin. But then I realize they have started at the end, and are working their way toward the beginning, moving verse by verse through the litany. And the knife Landulf holdsthe handle is shaped like a crucifix, yet he grasps it by the blade, upside down.
Everything they are doing is backward.
Landulfs grip is tight on his blade. Blood runs down his arm as his worshippers sing,but he doesn't seem to mind. In all of this, the most amazing thing is that theirvoices are quite beautiful. They remind me of Dante, who never went to sleep without reciting the Mass. Yet their motives are clearly the opposite of Dante's. He implored God for forgiveness for sins he had never committed. These creatures implore another power to accept their sins and reward them for them.
After forty minutes the twisted mass ends. A wooden cross is brought out by soldiers and laid in the center of the pentagram. Clad in a white robe, a bound female is carried out next. Her mouth is tied, she cannot cry out. But I see it is one of the girls I thought I had saved. That must mean the other two did not escape either. The girl is spread out on the cross but her white robe is left on. Finally the material stuffed in her mouth is removed and she cries out weakly. Landulf stands over her like the Grim Reaper, or worse. He has exchanged his knife for a small hammer and a bunch of nails. His intention is painfully obvious.
He is going to crucify the young woman.
I cannot watch this. I cannot let it happen.
But I have to watch. And I know I can do nothing.
Landulf holds nails and hammer up for all to see. So far the group has been fairly sedate, but now they leap to their feet and start screaming and jeering. I cannot tell if they are experiencing pain or pleasure. It seems a perverse mixture of both. Landulf kneels beside the girl and the soldiers who hold her down as the noise of the group reaches a frenzy. The very air is now vibrating. I find myself panting hard, on the verge of vomiting. I am a vampire who has killed thousands, yet I cannot bear that they should do this thing to such innocence, and enjoy it, and still remain human. It doesn't seem as if God should allow it.
I have to remind myself that God allowed it long ago.
Landulf begins to hammer in the nails.
The blood flows over the silver pentagram.
The girl's screams rend my soul.
Then I cry out, and the group falls instantly silent.
Plump, frightened Marie has stabbed a knife in my lower back. Put it in deep, cut a few arteries and important nerves. My blood seeps over the wire mesh and spills onto the altar below.Directly on to Landulf s face. He stares up and hungrily licks it as it dropsrain from hell. There is poison on the tip of Marie's blade; it mingles with the drugs already racking my system and causes havoc with my reflexes. Straining to pull it out, I feel my wound being licked by this docile servant girl. She has been told something about my blood, and thinks it will grant her immortality and great powers. She is like a giant insect sticking a needle in my vital organs. But apparently she takes the feeding ritual too far. Landulf suddenly shouts at her.
"It is for me!" he yells.
I am in such agony. Without wishing it, my weight and Marie's weight sag onto the wire mesh. It breaks. We fall like creatures cast down from heaven. Marie lands on her head and her skull explodes in a gray mass. I land on my back and the knife rams so deeply into me that it pokes through my liver and out my front. I have crashed beside the half-crucified woman, and Landulf steps over her to get to me. His face is smeared with blood, yet incredibly he appears sad, as if he wished it could have ended another way. I feel I have reached the end. My strength ebbs rapidly; I cannot get the knife out of my back, so that I may heal. The tortured girl screams at me as if I were a demon. Her mind is shattered. On the cold black altar our blood mingles and flows over the silver star as the crowd cheers. All this had been entertainment to them. Landulf puts a foot on my bloody hair and stares down at me.
"How do you feel, Sita?"he asks with feeling.
I cough blood. "Wonderful."
"You have come to where I always wanted you to be."
I try to roll on to my side, still trying for the blade.
He steps on my free arm with his other foot.
"I am happy for you," I gasp.
He grins slowly. "You are very beautiful, your body, your spirit. This agony is unnecessary. Join me, I will remove the knife and you will be better."
The pain is unbearable. "What do I have to do to join you?"
He presses hard on my arm, grinding the bone into the floor.
"A small thing," he replies. "Just finish nailing these stakes in this young woman you foolishly tried to save."
I think about it for a moment.
A long moment considering my situation.
"My lord," I say. "Go to hell."
He laughs and raises his foot and puts it over my face.
Darkness comes. It is especially dark.
13
When I come to, I feel as if I am being crucified.There is pain in my arms and chest, and I can hardlybreathe. Opening my eyes, I find myself chained in acell, deep in a black dungeon. My arms are strungabove me, spread out like the wings of a bird, pinned to a dripping stone wall with locks similar to the onesI saw on the cage. This metal is a special alloy that Iam unable to break, at least in my present condition. Istruggle with the binds and only end up exhaustingmyself further.
Naturally, I can still see in the dark. From head tofoot, I am covered with blood, but I see that it is notmy blood, but that of the girl they were sacrificing.
The knife has been removed from my spine and thatwound has healed. But there is no relief for me.
Crucifixion brings death by slow suffocation, and the position of my arms and legs mimics that of the Roman style of execution. My feet are also bound to the wall, but they are slightly above the floor so that all the pressure of the metal anklets is on my calf bones. Remnants ofL andulfs poisons continue to percolate in my system. I have to wonder if he siphoned off large amounts of my blood while I was unconscious.