An excerpt from an unfinished novel

Father Bartholomew Kirkland – Bart for short – hung up the phone, rubbed his chubby hand through his thinning hair and adjusted the wire-rim glasses perched on his short fat nose. He’d just handed over his best hunter to the enemy. He didn’t think he wanted to, in fact, he was almost sure of it, but he had anyway. Why?

Because of her.

He didn’t know her name, though memories that flashed through his mind like a slideshow suggested he’d known her all his life – and loved her for even longer. He felt no emotional attachment to any of the fragmented images; it was like they belonged to someone else.

‘When had she first come to him here in his office?’ He pondered.

Reason told him today had been the first time he ever saw her, but a desire burned in him to encounter her flesh again like he’d done in the past.

‘If that’s the case, why can’t I remember anything about it?’ His heart asked his brain, not that it made any difference at this point – she instructed him, and he obeyed.

She sat across from his desk in a centuries-old, ornate, hand sculpted, red-leather bound chair and shook her head, “Are you going send them help?”

The words drifted from her delicate black-painted lips like a whisper along an autumn breeze, floated into his ears, and massaged the pleasure centers in his brain. Thick graying brows furrowed as his beady brown eyes followed the slow sway of the woman’s raven hair. It appeared to undulate along its length, to her ample cleavage, where the tips wiggled with a life of their own.

‘Had he noticed that before?’ He thought, ‘Did it really matter?’

“No…” Kirkland answered to himself and the woman with hesitation.

“You are correct, Father. You aren’t.”

With a bend at the waist to maximize the exposure of her breasts, she gripped the knobbed arm rests, and rose with grace. The black silkiness of her gown shimmered as it unfurled from the seat of the chair onto the floor. The dress fanned out around her legs in waves as though a breeze blew under the hem. Her stomach and breasts fit snug inside the fabric. The outfit ended in a curve half-way up her soft round bosoms where two delicate straps connected the top to separate wrist-length sleeves.

She ran her perfect wet black tongue across her lips. Eyes like dark discs shimmered in the middle of an ocean of white on her face. They stared, unblinking, from under thin black brows and feathered lashes. Her dark makeup contrasted against the chalk white skin that covered her smooth porcelain body.

Silence filled the Dragon’s Blood-scented chamber. Kirkland’s gaze locked onto her as she glided across the red Victorian rug and rounded the desk. The rest of the study, with all its replica religious artifacts, copies of ancient texts and scrolls, and lavish faux leather furniture vanished from sight. There was only her.

The woman allowed her long slender fingers to walk across Kirkland’s desk. Black fingernails tip-toed across a hand-carved humidor box full of Cuban cigars, hiked over a miniature wooden globe mounted on a brass pedestal, crawled through stacks of scattered paperwork and open books, and hopped the distance from the desk to the priest’s hand.

The dark fabric of her gown withdrew up her legs until only a knee-high black skirt remained. Where the garment had cinched her stomach and breast moments ago a black short sleeve button-down shirt hung open revealing a black bra beneath – her small soft milky midsection aroused him.

She inched her bottom onto the desk and sat spread-legged in front of him with her bare pale feet propped on the chair’s arm rests. Her skirt slid up into a pile at her waist, revealing… nothing – she had no gender, only a smooth ivory-colored mound where there should be a vagina.

Kirkland felt as though this ought to alarm him, but the seductress excited him too much. He’d only been with one woman before swearing an oath of abstinence when he became a member of The Will – that woman had not made him feel as this one did.

With a quick slap, this woman knocked his pudgy hand off one of her petite feet – he withdrew with a start.

“No, no, now. You know the rules. No touching. That would violate your oath wouldn’t it, Father?” She scolded with a stern whisper.

“Yes…” He said. The sound of her words again coiled around his brain.

“And why aren’t you going to send them help?” She asked and leaned in close enough for him to feel the cold chill of her soft voice.

“Because it’s what you want.” He said.

“Good boy, Bart.” She patted him soft on the cheek before cradling his chin in her hand. Embarrassment turned him several shades of red and pink as a bulge grew in his slacks.

“And do you always do what I want?” She asked.

“Yes…” He stuttered as she cupped either side of his face with her cold hands and brought him closer to her.

“And why is that?” She asked.

“Because you are my goddess.” He was compelled to say. He didn’t feel it was the wrong answer. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it – but he did believe it.

The seductress pulled his mouth close to hers, and whispered, “Yes, you are correct.”

The smell of Dragon’s Blood flooded his head as he inhaled her icy breath. Waves of pleasure quivered in his knees and his knuckles strained as he griped the chair arms tighter.

She tilted her head to kiss him.

“Yes…” He groaned and waited – mouth agape and eyes closed.

A black gelatinous tentacle slithered from between her parted lips, slipped across his tongue, and down his throat. His hands locked around his thick neck and clawed at the dark spindles that invaded his lungs – he struggled and choked.

The appendage leaked into every crevice of the Father’s body, filling him with her darkness. The vessels across the surface of his skin became engorged and black as the symbiotic invasion flowed outward from his heart to his fingertips and toes. A fist of darkness squeezed his heart harder with each slowing beat. Pools of black ooze filled his eye sockets and leaked down his cheeks like blackened tears; and the woman’s vile poison dripped from his nose.

The knot of darkness gripped his heart tighter while tiny tendrils tickled the sensitive sections of his brain. His body grew rigid and twitched with a sudden spasm that shook the chair – then he went limp.

The woman withdrew all of her from the priest, slid from the desk, and pushed his limp body back in the chair. His head drooped to one side and a teardrop of black ooze dribbled down from his eye. She scooped up the discharge with a single delicate finger and licked it clean with a grin.

“Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, Father Bart.” She laughed and sauntered out of the study.

Her clothes streamed around her like thunder clouds around a tornado as they metamorphosed into a nun’s habit that was to her liking. The parting clouds revealed a skin-tight gelatinous tube dress that shimmered like wet latex under the fluorescent lights, eight-inch stiletto heels, and black gloves. Her face melted away into the darkness of a hood that rose from her shoulders and draped itself over her head.

She strode down a hall full of busy priests, nuns, and acolytes. They were unaware of her presence as they scurried to finish their nightly duties before bed. No one realized they took an unconscious, but deliberate side-step to avoid her as she approached, and none of them heard the click of her heels echo on the cobblestone-tiled floor as she passed.

A nun screamed somewhere behind her. There was a flurry of commotion in the building and people raced along the corridor towards Father Kirkland’s office. She smiled and stiff-armed the front door of the monastery.

Once outside, she strolled across the porch and down the concrete steps to the end of the walkway. At a tall wrought-iron gate that led to the street she stopped and stared up at the full moon – the bright white orb reflected in the deep black pools of her eyes. Her wardrobe came to life once more and spread forth from her body. A curtain of darkness hung around her pale naked body and curled in the air like a wave preparing to crash onto the beach. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. The wave crashed onto her and she exploded into a cloud of black dust that evaporated into the night sky.