ndeath

by AMARANTHA KNIGHT

Masquerade Books - ISBN 1563336391

Excerpt from Chapter One

I must be very careful. The Spanish Inquisitors are everywhere. Rumors abound, in the village, and from other villages not far from here. It is almost as if the walls have ears the way these interrogators proclaim misdemeanors and felonies based on the smallest, most private act. Of course, I suspect they invent many of the so-called crimes against the church in order to insure that the common people cower beneath their despotic rule. When I think this way, I wish I had more power and skill at my beck and call. But it will come, in time. Of that I have no doubt.

Before I continue with the healing spell, I take a moment for myself. I always wear Catalina's necklace with the oddly-shaped silver stone nearly buried in rock. Catalina was the first bruja with whom I studied. She was driven out of the village by the physician and into the arms of the inquisitors, who burned her at an auto-da-fé, that most horrific public ritual murder. I wear the necklace to not only remind me of Catalina, and of the power of magic, but also as a warning of what could occur if I am not careful.

I hold the necklace by the delicate chain. I speak to it as Catalina taught me. "Will I always be so lonely?" I ask it. Filipe and Hugo watch the silver glittering in the candlelight as intently as do I, the three of us mesmerized. "It is not that I do not value your company," I assure my rodent friends with a wink. "But I am lonely because of my powers. And because of this evil time of repression in which I live. Everyone is afraid of everyone. We can not travel easily because the roads have been sealed off. Perhaps I should have gone with my parents."

I shake my head. "Concentrate," I order myself. "This is my biggest problem." I take a deep breath and clear my mind. The pendulum does not move and I am nearly ready to put it back around my neck when it begins to sway gently over the pot. From a rocking motion, it soon begins a circular movement, initially just a lazy languorous swirl, almost as if a soft breeze has blown it, but the shutters of the cottage are closed. Soon the pendulum swings with determination, like the hips of a woman trying to seduce a man. It picks up momentum and I feel the pull between my fingers, along my arms, invading my chest. Soon it spins so fast I can hardly see where the stone ends on each pass before my eyes.

For a second I feel as if this is a sign, that my life will be circular, around and around, the same territory, revisited. Nothing new. No one to succor me, to inspire me, to fan the flames of my passion until I am consumed in that desirable fire. The rats stare mutely at me. "Perhaps I shall be a victim of the Inquisition..."

The pendulum has confused me. I wonder if my quest is in fact too banal for its liking, not of a high-enough level to inspire a response. It spins in one direction, then pauses and begins spinning the opposite way. The direction is significant, and yet this counter-clockwise motion is not necessarily negative. On the other hand, the former clockwise motion cannot be wholly positive... My head begins to ache from questioning. How I wish I knew more! I must find someone to ask, for I have many questions.

Even should I encounter one of The Craft, there is no guarantee that they would share their wisdom. And, of course, I might not understand, for much of The Craft is obscure and takes considerable pondering...

An image forms as I stare at the pendulum. A pit, like a black womb, hollowed into the earth. Emanating from it are sounds and smells that become more vivid as I concentrate. I see flesh of various colors, bodies of different sizes and shapes, yet all appear moist, writhing, twisting, and undulating. The sounds reaching my ears are moans and cries of ecstasy. Heat rises through my body and I lose my concentration. The image begins to evaporate.

"Is there really such a place as the Pit of Delights?" I cry out, not certain that the image which is quickly fading is real or simply my deepest desires manifesting in a hallucination.

Among those involved with The Craft, The Pit of Delights has been a shared fantasy, a tale told by moonlight, passed down through generations. A place of endless sexual fulfillment. A environ where all erotic appetites are stirred, and copulation involves more then body parts. Legend has it that an underground society of those who enjoy sensual play exists. They are given to extreme pleasures, and pains that lead to more intense pleasure. They use what many would view as implements of torture, and are prone to flogging one another and binding with ropes and chains, and indulging in even wilder pursuits, too odd to imagine. The thoughts of this place revive the vision before me. My nipples tighten and tingle with expectation, and my cunny grows hot and wet.

I hear cries. The snap of leather against flesh. Fear courses through me, but instinctively I know this is no inquisitor's palace of torture, but another type of torture, distinct, leading to erotic heights! My cunny spasms and seeps juices. Moisture bursts from the pores of my skin and the heat from the cauldron intensifies. I see the pit clearly now, and the sight of the bodies with their hardened nipples and exposed clitorises and hard cocks stirs me further.

The pendulum circles faster, the arch widening. It pauses and swings back the other way, then back again, changing direction at a furious pace now. I watch the silver twinkle like a star, like the eye of a lover, like the flash of a chain, and I am fascinated.

Would it not be grand if it were true? A place of endless delights. Who would not dream of it?

To be continued…

Titles in The Darker Passions series:

DRACULA
FRANKENSTEIN
DR. JEKYLL & MR.HYDE
THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY
CARMILLA
THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM

HOME WRITER EDITOR