Tom Piccirilli - A Lower Deep

Better than me! Self said, grinning through his discomfort.

"I have failed the trial of Job, the test of Abraham."

I grabbed hold of the front of the man's bedclothes and shouted, "What did you do?"

"Save her, I beg you. God forgive my unworthy soul. She rides the Dragon!"

A door had been opened in heaven.

Self leaped onto my chest and nuzzled my neck, suddenly yelping and moaning and trying to turn away, but there was nowhere to hide from this. I heard distant trumpets and a vision unfolded of locusts with men's faces carrying out their hideous duties at the apocalypse. I whispered a word but did not know it. I said it again and still, for this moment, it had no shape or meaning. I stumbled out of the room, panting heavily, the agony inside me becoming something else.

And I knew what Joseph Shiya had done. Duty calls for dedication, loss, and forfeit. What the Lord God wills must be carried out by his servants, faithfully and without question. Such devotion had cost Lot his wife, Samson his eyes, Jacob his brother, John the Baptist his head-and Christ his life.

Joseph Shiya once possessed the raw fanaticism of men like Isaac, John of Patmos, and Jebediah DeLancre. He had not failed the tests and trials set before him. Angels would praise his name, and he would be blessed in the Book of Judgment. He'd given all that he had to give, as the Lord commanded.

When his God had asked him to sacrifice his daughter, Joseph turned his back too late.

Bethany was there on her bed, naked and giggling, slithery with the sheen of her own craving and desire.

Damn, she's fine , Self whispered, dropping from my shoulder. His lusts or mine carried him forward. Ribbons of saliva dripped over his fangs.

My mouth had gone dry and I could barely ask, "Who are you?"

"All that you want," she said.

"What is your name?"

"I have none."

The vertigo struck again and I toppled toward the bed, even as Self fell beside me, grimacing and whimpering and chortling. She peeled my clothes from me as my second self rolled at the foot of the bed. Her lips went to my chest and something broke deep inside me and I tried to yell, but all that came out was a groan of pleasure. It had been so long. I held my hands around her throat but I couldn't tighten them. There are dreams you never awaken from. They are as much a part of you now as ever, alive beneath your civilized skin and pretenses at humanity. I laughed, loud and revolting, drawing Bethany to me. Self licked her neck and she purred.

My love and loyalty to Danielle had remained my one pure accomplishment, and now, as I sank into this mad bliss, even that was gone.

Of red bellies and ripped knees, the taste of pale-

I couldn't do anything but exactly what Bethany wanted, except that she was no longer any Bethany. The great whore whom we've all fornicated with consumed her and consumed me. Babylon the Great, mother of harlots and abominations.

The word I had spoken was whore.

Joseph Shiya continued to rant in the other room, muttering and crying. His voice was already full of gravel from the bottom of his own grave. "I can hear them! The seven angels blowing the seven trumpets! He comes, the lamb with seven horns and seven eyes. The spirit of God has released the pale horse."

"Shut up!" I shouted.

"There shall be a hail of fire and blood, stars will go out and fall! The locusts shall be set free to torment the faithless, wearing breastplates, with tails like scorpions and faces of men." His death rattle went on and on. "And there, finally, Azreal is hovering in the corner. I die, I die! Forgive me my weaknesses, oh Lord, I beg you, do not forsake me at this hour-"

I fell onto Bethany again and her teeth sank into my shoulder. Self left long bloody welts along her thighs and back and she moaned for more. My new flesh sizzled worse than when I'd roasted in the fire. I could feel the thrust of her laughter against my throat. Self slipped between us, weaving, there and not there as his own desires moved him. I didn't know who was touching her anymore, him or me. He wagged his trembling ass, bursting with need and joy. She struck me and I dropped onto her with my fists and tongue.

Her hair draped across my belly and didn't stop. It continued falling across me and my entire life: drenched, womanly, warm, and soft. The blackness was the very depth of my fears and wants, as she brushed me again. She tossed her hair in that practiced manner reminiscent of my lost love. It was I who had failed the test and willingly entered the tender ambush.

Bethany encompassed us both. "See the smoke of my burning," she said. "Wail for me.

I did.

Lord, I did, as we were all devoured by the endlessly heaving, sweet oblivion.

When I woke in the morning I was already weeping.

It was the day before Easter. Bethany lay on the bed. Her belly was red and her knees had been torn. She was unlike the woman who had bedded me last night because she did not rouse or smile or chew.

Self sat in her viscera and screeched, Don't look at me!

I tried not to.

Instead, I stared at what was left of Bethany, lying unwrapped on the sheets and splayed across the floor.

My name had been carved into her chest, and I was covered in blood.

The raging clashes continued to escalate. Israeli troops battled several gunmen and thousands of rock-throwing Palestinians. They opened fire on the rioters, killing twelve and wounding hundreds. The bloody confrontations in the West Bank and Gaza Strip would only grow worse as activists and followers marched on Israeli army positions. Thousands of protesters chanted the Muslim battle cry "Allahu Akbar."

God is great.

Streets became littered with rocks and overturned garbage bins while plumes of smoke from blazing tires rose into the sky.

Police were forced to evacuate tourists off the streets of the OldCity. Palestinian youths hurled stones, some twirling slingshots for a longer aim. They set fire to the Israeli police station at the Lion's Gate entrance during an attempt to take it over. Many carried black flags of mourning for those killed. Others stuffed gas-soaked rags into bottles and threw them at Israeli soldiers, who fired rubber-coated steel pellets and live rounds from behind walls. Gunmen, their faces covered by checkered head scarves and ski masks, shot at troops crouching behind jeeps in protracted fire-fights.

In the heart of the desert, it began to hail.

Fragments of ice had flecks of frozen blood in them. The air had started to spasm, as if the lack of motion and its very staleness were causing it to somehow convulse. The day grew dark, but not with clouds-frigid sunlight still shined but the world simply became blacker.

What did you do to me?

What?

You healed my body but you changed me. What did you let loose?

Self stared at me sadly. You've changed me , he said.

Did you do it?

Do what?

The girl . . .

Do what!

I drew him to me until our noses touched. Did you kill the girl?

He yanked on my shirt until his claws dug into my neck and blood welled. Did you? Tell me! Did you?

Which side are you on?

On your side, like always . Then he frowned so hard that the ridge appeared between his eyes, as it did between mine, both of us looking genuinely confused. But which side are you on? Do you even know?

The land itself had grown hostile with resentment. I sat in front of a church for hours, and then moved off to a mosque and a Muslim shrine and I watched the different flags droop in the unmoving air and couldn't tell them apart. I vomited in alleyways until the bile tore up my guts. Gunshots and the sound of breaking glass echoed in all directions.