------------- Hell’s Belles - Sorcia

Witchery, Blasphemy and Sacrilege.

There were things to be done, mass to be held, confessions to be taken, but Sister Sarah Thatcher would not see to them. The young girls lined the hall outside her door, awaiting her summons. Tonight, there were more important things for the Holy Sister to do than attend to the works of the other nuns. Sister Sarah’s quarters were far from the others, in a section of the convent long abandoned. She was the chemist, the healer, the producer of God’s unguents and poultices for the sick and the lame. Her chemicals and her herbs often had powerful scents that were not to the liking of the Mother Superior. So they gathered here, far from the other girls on these special nights.

Kiren listened carefully for her name, and when the golden tones of Sister Sarah’s voice range out, she almost giggled with joy. She was to be one of the chosen ones, one of the special girls who got to move on to higher service in the Lord’s name. Those few girls left the convent, to be seen only on odd occasion when their new duties allowed them to return. She was now to be one of the lucky ones.

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Later that night, with the haze of drugs barely beginning to clear from her head, Kiren opened her bleary eyes. She could still not speak, still not move with any strength. Fortunately, she could scarcely feel anything either. In a foggy dream she watched as Sister Sarah, dressed in an open front habit that revealed most of her bare bosom, bearing strange artifacts and jewelry, with her hair flowing out in great flapping locks behind her, blown on some diabolic wind, performed the blasphemous rituals to summon the hosts of Hell. She called upon the forbidden names, spoke the unspeakable words and showed great proficiency in all things outlawed by the Church as witchcraft.

Somewhere in the nightmare, Kiren felt strong hands upon her flesh. It was sufficient to arouse her eyes once more to eternal terror. The beast before her was huge, shaggy and vile. It had cloven hooves and the head of a ram, though its matted fur and flesh seemed to be rotting and writhing with maggots. It had three horns on its head, and its lurid intent was plain to see. Struggling as she could against the shackles that held her right side up on an upside down cross, Kiren caught sight of Sister Sarah in congress with another such beast. The sister merely smiled and winked at the poor acolyte.

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