On the far end is where all the business is done. There is a depression in the center of this space with four stone steps leading down to the grand altar made of Nero Marquina marble quarried in Spain that has been so meticulously polished, it gleams like obsidian.
The altar is on the same spatial plane as the floor so as to offer up the perfect view of what takes place on top of it for those watching from a distance, and at seven feet long and three feet wide, it’s impressive.
On either side of the altar are dozens of candelabras. Three women are lighting them now, but there are so many candles, it will probably take another ten minutes before they’re all ablaze.
Behind the altar—where one might find a crucifix if this werethatkind of holy place—there is a font of the baptismal variety. Though it’s genuine, it’s not used for baptism. Which makes it more of a crucible, I suppose.
On this end, where Kael and I are standing, is the wall of cutlery where every kind of knife you can dream up has been arranged on the wall for easy access so anyone who wants to can use the altar for an impromptu ritual or whatever. Though they don’t carve up scions, obviously. Mostly likely rabbits or… I dunno, perhaps a goat?
The middle of the room is where all the fun happens. A massive patchwork of feather beds covers the floor from edge to edge. The duvets are light blue, or off-white, or mustard yellow, or peach linen, just like the dresses of the women outside. The pillows that line the edges of the feather beds are the same color, and this whole scene gives off a vibe of whimsy.
It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely. Much,muchnicer than the clearing in the woods where we used to do these ceremonies in the early days.
Kael is studying the beds as I watch him. Then he turns to me with eyebrows raised. “How many people are you expecting?”
As if on cue, the double doors behind us open and every grown man under the age of thirty enters, already unbuttoning shirts or loosening trousers. They don’t say anything as we watch them undress.
Once they are naked, they go to the center of the room and start touching each other. Caressing each other. Kissing. And there’s a little bit of grinding as they work themselves up.
This time when Kael looks at me, he’s grinning. “You’re sick.”
I shrug. “It’s why you like me, Kael. It’s why you agreed to be my blood bitch in the first place.”
He actually laughs. “Let’s go then.” He turns to the woman, eyes narrowed, giving her the first glimpse of his deranged madness. “Undress me, whore. And lick me while you do it.”
This woman, she’s gonna get a big reward from me later. Because she doesn’t even blink. Just curtseys, like he’s her lord now, and eases his jacket off his shoulders, then pulls his shirt up over his head. She pauses for a moment, maybe admiring the lust in his eyes, then drops to her knees as her fingers begin unbuttoning his jeans. She looks up at him as she wriggles them down his hips and dutifully licks his stomach while staring him in the eyes.
I let out a breath, very,verysatisfied with what I have built up here with the coven and the kitchen witches who populate it. This is gonna be fun. And I have to be honest, it’s been all work and no play for months now and I’m looking forward to the respite.
But in Kael, I find myself slightly disappointed. Not about bringing him here, he is the perfect choice for what comes next. But about his reaction.
Usually, when I bring a scion up to meet the coven and take them inside this building they begin to panic. Not a lot, not usually. But they at least glance questioningly at the cutlery displayed artfully on the wall behind us, and they often pay more attention to the altar than Kael has. They notice things about it. Like how it’s just big enough to spread out a man. They notice the leather straps in the perfect position to tie down said man. And they notice how there are little grooves along the edges of the polished, black marble to catch his blood.
Situational awareness. Kael has none of it. And I’m disappointed. I feel like maybe, somewhere along the way, I failed him. So I let out a sigh.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kael snaps. He’s fisting the woman’s hair now, grinding his cock into her mouth.
I simply smile in response. But it’s kind of a sad smile. Then I notice that Emily has entered the building. I watch as Joshua greets her, leaning in to her ear to whisper something, spurring a chuckle out of his wife. Her eyes dart over to me and she nods, letting me know she’s ready.
In that same moment Joshua turns in my direction and starts walking towards me, pulling off his shirt as he closes the space between us. I keep my eyes on him and only him because in him, and all these people who live in the White River coven, I got it right.
I love them. And while I say I love them all, I don’t. Not like this. Ryet is the only one I ever put before these witches. The only one I ever put before myself. But the most remarkable thing about the people of White River is that they love me back.Trulylove me in a way no one else ever has, and since this is my moment of illumination in regards to my buried emotional attachments, this is also the moment when I realize that this little village is… myhome.
The Montana lodge is lovely and I like it, but mostly because Ryet built it for me. When I’m at the lodge everything around me is a memory of him and, as my first true offspring, it’s natural to be irrationally drawn to him because of what he means to me and my future.
But Ryet doesn’t love me back. Not really. He needs me, he likes me—maybe. I grew on him, I suppose. Became a fixture in his life. Something that was always there so he cannot imagine existing without me.
So it’s different.
I had intended to have my fun with Kael today. He’s attractive and he likes to do lots of nasty things with me that Ryet never would. But when Joshua reaches me, it’s him I want to spend this day with. It’s him I want to hold on to in my memories, not something disposable like Kael. So that, in a thousand years, when I think back on this day and how it all started, it will be Joshua I see. It will be Emily, and Rachel, and all the other lovely little snakes in my den of vipers.
Joshua stands before me, unafraid to meet my gaze. And why should he be afraid of me? I’ve never been anything but good to him. Yes, we sacrifice scions here to make Black magic, but he knows, with one hundred percent certainty, that he is not, and never will be, something I sacrifice.
So I place my hands on his cheeks, lean in, and kiss his mouth. I watch as his eyes close and his body gives in to me. Then I start walking backwards, still kissing him, until we’re next to the other men in the village who are already lying down, jerking on each other’s cocks.
The kiss ends and Joshua opens his eyes. They are a little glassy, like he might want to cry. “Don’t,” I tell him. “Don’t be sad.”
His smile is immediate. “Oh, I’m not sad, my lord. I’m full of happiness. So full, I’m overflowing. This is all I ever wanted. To beyours.” And then he gazes up at me with complete adoration as he drops to his knees and pops the button on my jeans.
