Angeline And The Hallowed One

Angeline shivered against the wind and pulled her heavy cloak tighter. The dry leaves seemed to whisper as they slid along the fresh dirt, the wind tossing them and dropping them with abandon. The very air seemed wild and wanton, a sizzling current that made the hairs on her neck and arms rise. She'd worn a rich violet lipstick that night, a color called "Harlot's Kiss."

She knelt on the cool earth, relishing the dampness on her skin. Setting her knapsack beside her, she pulled out a black candle, long-handled kitchen matches, and six shining garnets, thick as a man's thumb and as long as her forearm. It had taken her nearly a month to track them down, visiting every two-bit head shop and crystal shop in the county. The man who sold her the final one did so with a raised eyebrow and smirk. "Holding a seance, are you?"

"Not hardly," she'd said, miffed at how close he'd come to guessing. His shop was covered with dream catchers and tye-dye shirts, bumper stickers for the Grateful Dead. "That's for charlatans and hucksters. My plans are ... loftier." She sniffed, rubbing her nose. The shop smelled of sandalwood and far too much patchouli.

"Sure," he said, not breaking his gaze. "Well, just be careful." His expression grew serious. "These things have power, you know?" At that, she swore his eyes grew darker, cloudier. The sly warning in his voice thrilled her, sending a shudder through her core.

Of course, she knew the stones had power. It was why she'd chosen them for the Summoning. It was why she'd chosen a moonless night in October, why she'd worn the cloak with crimson lining, why she'd worn Harlot's Kiss.

And, she thought, with a wry smile, why she hadn't worn underwear.

Focusing now, she pulled a wad of black lace from her bag, and spread it out in a circle over the dirt. The garnets she placed at six even points around the circle. She laid down on her back, the cool wind teasing her bare feet. She trembled deliciously, a warm feeling trickling from her neck to down between her legs. The anticipation felt like a snake, looping its coils in her belly. She leaned over to light the candle, and a quick smell of sulfur singed her nostrils. Her fingertips were dark with soot, and she traced them up her arms, drawing along the blue rivers of her veins. Claret-colored wax dripped from the candle, running down to collect around the thick base. It was time.

Lord of Power, Hallowed One,

I pray to let thy will be done.

To thee I call, to thee I chant,

Visit I, thou supplicant.

I ask of you to come to me,

With my body, I pay thy fee.

She closed her eyes, breathless. The wind roared, making the tree limbs moan and crack. She felt herself spinning wildly, and she gripped the earth under her fingers. With a sudden flash, everything was still. The wind stopped, and she opened her eyes. The air around her was thick, hazy as brushfire smoke but a warm red. She smelled sulfur still, but something else, like sandalwood. The trickling warmth she'd felt before was an insistent throb now, like a heart beating between her legs. She twisted her thighs together.

"Stop," said a voice, throaty and sure. The Hallowed One she'd summoned was formless, but the voice sounded distinctly male. She obeyed, the command thrilling her.

"Please," she said, her voice quivering more than she intended "Hallowed One, your supplicant appears before you to honor you. What would you have me do?"

"Do?" chuckled the voice. "My dear, you summoned me. Surely you had something in mind."

She took a deep breath, feeling the raw power around her crackle. "Hallowed One," she said, stronger this time, "Take me."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and the air grew heavier. "You know I will take the form you desire," the voice said, different this time, "But from there the choice is mine."

She nodded. The haze drew into a shape, forming the outline of a male body. It concentrated here and there, becoming the sharp line of a jaw, the ridge of a brow, the thick curve of muscle on the back of the thigh. In a fluid move, he was on her, driving the breath from her. The haze had mass, weight, heft. The hands that ran down her trembling legs had heat, drawing fire from her. The lips that crushed hers were firm, forcing her to respond. The teeth that grazed her nipple gleamed. When she arched her back against him, his torso was hard, lean.

"This is what you want, then, Angeline," he said, grinning. "Half spirit, half man." With that, he pushed her legs open. He opened her slit with a careless finger, teasing the lips apart. She couldn't control the thrusting of her hips, and he held her down with a palm that had texture, callus.

He stopped suddenly, reaching to his side. He held something in his hand. A garnet from the circle, shining with a dark red light, cutting through the dense air. She gasped. "Like you've heard, these have great power," he chuckled. As she watched, the garnet grew wider, curved, a grotesque phallus. He lowered his mouth to her slit. "Let's see what happens when power meets power, Angeline."

With that, he slid the garnet into her to the hilt.

Heat, almost searing her inside. Wetness, spilling from her. His tongue, impossibly warm and lithe, playing insistent signals on her nerves. Inside she felt impossibly full. The garnet was not a phallus, not even human. But it pulsed in her, as he pulled out in a long slow stroke, teasing her just at her entrance. She angled her hips, desperate to pull it back in. He laughed at her clit, the vibrations against her sending strong spasms through her pelvis. He loomed above her, now with hair hanging down his shoulders, his eyes dark and cloudy. She craned her head to his face, needing to kiss him, and he lowered himself to her. A thrust at her lips, and she was full again. Her back arched and she gripped the dirt hard.

He was in her now. No crystal, no formed haze; him. He moved in her, with long, slow thrusts. She gripped his hair with her hand, grabbed his buttock with the other. She moved her hips quicker, trying to speed him up. He chuckled again. "My choice now, dear. You gave that up to me." She whimpered, losing her mind. Something touched her at the top of her slit, and she jolted. He smirked at her, leaning down next to her ear. "I gave up nothing to be this form. You gave up everything." A needy whine came from her, and she gripped him tighter.

He began to speed up, then, truly riding her. Tremors danced through her cunt. She was approaching quickly. She was almost there, almost there, so close, oh please please and

He stopped, pulling out. "Open your eyes," he demanded. "Behold the form you chose." When she did, his eyes were matte black, no pupil, no iris, no white. The humor in his smile was dark now. "Power," he said, his voice like gravel, "Nothing tastes so delicious, does it?" He ran his impossible tongue down her neck, biting hard as he slid back inside her. Her eyes rolled back. The assault on her clit was merciless. Her whole body thrummed, a taut bow. He moved again, impossibly long and impossibly thick. She cried out, screaming, begging, thrusting to meet his pace. He quickened, rising against her, the force of him pulling her up. She was out of her mind, tossing her head, shouting nonsense. She climbed and climbed, almost pushing him out with her need. Until all at once, she crashed in climax. Her muscles grew tense and dropped, her pussy gripping and pulsing. He collapsed against her, hot seed spilling inside.

They lay panting, sweat cooling on their bodies. She eased her legs down and closed them, the muscles in her hips complaining. He slid out of her, and she almost wept with how empty she felt. When she opened her eyes, she saw him fading, softening. "No!" she cried, reaching for his hair, his shoulder, anything to hold onto.

"That's the curse," he said, a hint of sadness to his voice, "Power, and no one to share it with."

With that, the haze lifted, and she was back on the cool earth. Tears wet her lashes, unbidden. She wiped them away with her cloak. She rested a moment, watching the stars in their turns. She folded up the lace circle, collected the garnets, all normal size now. Blowing out the candle, she was sure she smelled a whiff of sandalwood. With that, she pulled on her knapsack, fastened her cloak, and made her way home. "28 days," she thought to herself, "28 days until the next new moon."