Divine Evil

have walked with them into the pit of Hell. Flames couldn't touch him. He was one of them. He felt it, the power, the glory, swelling inside of him.
    When they came to the circle, the others were waiting. Baphomet turned to him. “Do you believe in the might of the Dark Lord?”
    “Yes.” Ernie's eyes were glassy with the drug and harmless. Not hungry, not handsome, not shrewd, his face was slack and vulnerable. “I've worshiped Him. I've sacrificed for Him. I've waited for Him.”
    “Tonight, you will meet Him. Take off your clothes.”
    Obediently, Ernie pulled off his Nikes, his Levi's. He stripped off his Black Sabbath T-shirt until he wore only the pentagram. A robe was slipped over him.
    “You will not have a mask. Later, when you are one of the few, you will choose your own.”
    The voice came to Ernie's ears, low and stately, like a funeral march or a record played on the wrong speed. “I've studied,” he said. “I understand.”
    “You have more to learn.”
    Baphomet stepped into the circle. The others closed around it. When Ernie took his place, he saw the woman. She was beautiful, draped in a red robe, her hair loose and glossy. She was smiling at him. Even as he hardened beneath his own robe, he recognized her.
    Sarah Hewitt had participated in the ceremonies before. For two hundred dollars, all she had to do was lie naked on a slab of wood and wait until a few nut cases went through their ridiculous routine. There was a lot of chanting and calling up the devil. The devil, for Christ's sake. It was all an excuse to ball her. For two hundred, she didn't care if they wanted to wear masks and shake their naked butts at each other. 'Course, sacrificing goats was pretty sick, but boys would be boys. In any case, tonight looked like a special treat. She'd recognized Ernie and figured he might add something to the night's entertainment.
    The kid was stoned, she thought, and would probably pop off before they got to the good part. But she could bring him around again. She was good at it.
    And she had been relieved to be told to come tonight. She'd made a mistake talking to Cam. Sarah was well aware that people paid for mistakes.
    The bell was rung, the candles were lit, and the flame was set in the pit. Sarah slid a hand down the center of her robe and let it slither from her shoulders. She held the pose a moment, knowing eyes were on her. In the spotlight of the moon, she walked over to spread herself on the slab.
    The high priest raised his arms. “In the name of Satan, king and ruler, I command the Dark Forces to bestow their infernal power upon me. Open wide the gates of Hell and grant me all I ask. We rejoice in the life of the flesh. We seek and demand its pleasures. Hear the names!”
    Ernie shuddered as the names were called. He knew them, had studied them. Had prayed to them. But for the first time, he wasn't alone. And his blood was hot, melting the lingering fear in his bones, as he repeated them with the coven.
    The cup was passed. Ernie wet his dry mouth with the tainted wine. The flames from the pit seemed to tower, alive, snapping greedily. His flesh burned.
    He watched the high priest. The image of the sculpture Clare had created imposed itself over the reality. She knew, he thought, and yearned for her. She knew.
    The sword was taken up to call out the four Princes of Hell.
    The power was like a shaft of ice speared into him. The heat and cold vacillated like a sexual dance. He shook with it as he joined in the chant.
    “We bring a new brother to You tonight, Master. We offer You his heart, his soul, his loins. Youth is blessed. Youth is strong. His blood will mix with ours in Your glory.”
    “Ave
, Satan.”
    He held out a hand, gesturing Ernie into the circle. “Do you come to this place of your own will?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you embrace the Dark Lord as your Master?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you give your oath now, to hold sacred this place? To give yourself over to the Law?”
    “I swear it.”
    Ernie barely felt the prick on the index finger of his left hand. Dreamily, he set it against the parchment held in front of him. And signed his name in blood.
    “Now you have sworn. Now you have added your name to the few. If you speak of what you have seen this night, your tongue will turn black and fall from your mouth. Your heart will shrivel in your breast to a stone and stop your breath. Tonight, you accept His wrath and His pleasures.”
    “I accept them.”
    The priest set