Page 26 of The Cult

“Can’t complain.” I lurched awake, stretching and feigning a yawn. I could complain, but it wouldn’t do me any good.

“Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll meet you outside so we can get started with the day.”

I raised my thumb, nodding. “Wait up, Sterling,” I called before he left.

“Yeah?”

“Do you smoke?”

“I do. Want some?”

“If you don’t mind.” I widened the door, letting Sterling inside.

“Here.” He pulled a couple of cigarettes out of his pack, handing them to me. “Two enough?”

“More than enough,” I answered. “Do you have a light?”

Sterling handed me a silver Zippo from the pocket of his black pants. “You can’t smoke in here though,” he said before releasing his grip on the lighter.

“I’ll wait till later,” I assured him. “This is nice. May I keep it?” I asked, flicking the lighter open.

“Sure—consider it my welcome present,” Sterling answered with a smile. He was different from the rest. Nicer. Friendlier. It was a shame he was associated with Orcus and the cult.

“Thanks.” I flicked the lighter once before pocketing the silver lifesaver. It might not be much, but for me it meant survival. I’d completed an assignment once with just a lighter. I headed to the bathroom and flushed the cigarettes down the toilet.

***

“Bless us lord for this bountiful feast. We pray for you to nourish our bodies and cleanse our souls …” Orcus began. He stood with his head turned to the ceiling with his palms up in front of him.

Just when I thought this place couldn’t be any creepier, one of the guards, who I hadn’t seen before, took over the blessing. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t appear to be with the others. He wore a shirt similar to Orcus’s but less ornate. He stood next to the cult’s leader while the others kept a good five-feet distance. He kneeled, wove his fingers, and looked up at Orcus. “We are sinners who have left behind our selfish ways to serve you, God. Thank you for delivering Orcus to us, our savior.”

What the fuck?

Orcus’s expression shifted. Although his smile remained, it seemed twisted, almost mocking. He basked in the reverence directed his way. He opened his eyes briefly, gleaming with hunger for power and control. There was something unsettling about his posture, a subtle arrogance that belied the glory he received. He took pleasure in the guards’ unwitting admiration.

He reminded me of some of the men I’d “dealt with” before. What a piece of work. I tuned out their theatrical delivery and surveyed the room. The guards had their bobbing heads down, their hands joined together, while the six trainees whispered among each other. Their serious faces matched their animated hand gestures. A couple of guys shook their heads as if they disagreed about what the others said, but Abel lowered his hands slowly as if to tell them to keep their voices low. He seemed to be the one steering the conversation. He wasn’t the biggest of the group, but he appeared to be their leader. I wished I could read lips to figure out what they were saying.

Abel’s attention landed on mine and his features hardened. He narrowed his eyes.

What the hell was his problem? My irritation simmered. If he believed his feeble attempts at intimidation could faze me, he had another think coming. I leaned back in my seat, draping my arms around the back of the chair and met his stare, unflinching.

As expected, Abel’s face contorted with fury, every muscle tense and taut. His lips pressed into a thin, rigid line, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed ready to shatter. His veins pulsed visibly along his temples, stressing the intensity of his rage. Each breath heaved from his chest like a smoldering furnace, his nostrils flaring with each exhale.

The room fell silent around us. Our eyes were locked in a silent battle of wills, each of us daring the other to look away. The tension crackled in the air, thickening with each passing moment as neither of us showed any sign of backing down.

“Amen,” the man ended his prayer and everyone, including Abel, schooled their expression to neutral.

“Let me show you around,” Sterling said after breakfast.

We strolled through the corridors, passing more of the same rooms that were in dire need of repair. “Who was that guy next to Orcus?” I asked.

“The one who led the morning prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“His name is Ti, Orcus’s right-hand man.”

“What do you know about him?”

---