Mad Monk's Priory

Tague went from sex whenever he was interested to sex less than once a week, which left him irritable and short tempered. They fought over stupid things. Karen did not understand how he could be so selfish, but It was visiting her every night, and as Tague slept she was thrashing and moaning in pleasure, eyes wide, lips whispering 'more, fuck me more,' but not out of fear Tague might wake up; only because she could not catch her breath to be louder.

Sundays she donned the simple dress, embarrassed at deceiving Tague, but not wanting him to start a fight about something else. Brenda or Judith would pick her up and she would strip naked with her Sisters and don the pink robe.

The first month she was led by Jeff at the start of each service into the short alcove from whence he would emerge. She was instructed not to go down the corridor to his chamber, but to stand and listen to the message. Brenda had been right, without her present in the Celebration chamber the women were much more vocal, dozens of voices crying out in pleasure at once, begging for more, offering thanks, promising anything. Karen had nearly cried out herself the first Sunday, because the entirety of the service It was with her, inside of her, not letting her focus on anything but pleasure.

She was dismayed when Brenda insisted on picking her up early the fifth Sunday, as she had come to anticipate the forty-minute-long coupling during the services. She was instructed to move to a small shelf at the middle of the back highest step, where they had her remove and fold her robe, kneeling on the pink fabric. Brenda explained she was to 'give the Sisterhood's kiss' to each member as they entered the chamber. Karen was too nervous to ask what that meant-- there had been no pamphlet or list in her locker. After weeks seeing the others in the locker room and aware of what was happening in the services she could not see, Karen was no longer at all self-conscious about being nude as the other women came in. Alexandra was first, and climbed the steps, holding the hem of her robe in her hands to make climbing the steps easier. She stopped in front of Karen, bent, kissing her fully on the mouth, then whispered,

"Are you ready, Noviate Karen?" Karen nodded, and prepared to whisper that she did not know what she was to do. Her question was answered unasked, though when the older woman hiked her robe, exposing her neatly trimmed pubic hair and stepped close, bringing her sex to Karen's face. Blinking in surprise, Kren nevertheless pressed her lips against the swollen bead of Alexandra's clit. After a second, she moved to stop, but found the older woman's hand gently at the back of her head, locking her in place. Only after she had begun to lick and suck at it-- after she felt Alexandra shudder briefly-- did the B&B own step back. And by then there was another Sister, an older woman Karen had never met.

Old, young, thin, fat, bald, hairy, she quickly lost count, and was embarrassed when women were still coming to her as Jeff began the service.

In fact, she realized women were coming up the stairs who had already received their 'kiss.' She dutifully continued, able to see part of the service for a change, to see women abandoning their robes to couple in pairs and threesomes and more on the wide stone floor. To see Jeff moving among them, occasionally stopping to thrust into one Sister or another, taking mouths and pussies and to her shock even practicing anal sex. Her own body was rocking steadily as It thrust into her from below where she was kneeling. When she worried she had never tried anal sex, there was a dark chuckle-- still Tague's voice-- behind her ear, and the blunt heavy head of It's massive cock dipped out of her open sex to probe at her puckered bottom. Karen whimpered, but held still.

"Soon, Mine," it whispered, and pushed into her empty vaginal vault to resume steadily fucking into her. Her robe was a sodden mess at the service's completion.

She was home after 3PM that Sunday, staggering for the bed. Tague stopped her, and they had a massive fight where he accused her of ignoring him, of putting other people ahead of him, and of ignoring their relationship. She called him a petulant selfish child and reminded him the initiation would not last much longer, but could not tell him how much longer, because she did not know. She argued she was helping her Sisters, swore that she loved him and would make it up to him, but begged him to let her nap.

He followed she and Judith the next week, and considered trying to push his way into the 'church' but winced at how Karen would react if he caused a scene. He did get out and circled the building, listening for any music or whatever else was happening before he climbed back into the Escape and went home to wait. He had barely thrown the keys into the glass bowl by the door into the garage when there was a knock at the door. He looked through the peephole, to see a man standing respectfully back from the door.

He opened it, to find a bent, dismayed graying balding man... not much older than himself.

"Saw you at the 'church,'" the bitterness the man spit into the last word struck home for Tague, and he waved the man in. "Thanks, wouldn't do either of us any good for them to see us talking." Tague offered coffee or orange juice, and seeing how thin the man was set about making bacon and eggs, asking what the man could tell him about the 'Church of the Sisterhood.'

"I'd say they've got their hooks in your wife," he paused, "Nothing good comes from that. They got my wife. And of course, that means they got my kids."

"Divorced?" Tague could guess but wanted to let the man tell his story.

"We were happy when we arrived," the man insisted, "then that bitch at the B&B started inviting us over... and then just Brenda. Then she started going to that damn church... I tell you, it's evil. She," he wiped at his eyes, "It's like she just stopped caring about me or our family. One minute she's saying 'honey, we're pregnant.' The next I'm served divorce papers and a restraining order."

"Wait, the police served you with a restraining order?"

"The Sherrif... she's one of the Sisters." Tague was clearly skeptical. "I'm not lying. I would never have hurt Brenda. I love her." Tague winced at the pain in his voice."

"Wait, Brenda?"

"Brenda Fowler." The world suddenly tilted. Tague had Kevin-- the man's name-- go through it and then again. There had been no fight, no threat, no sign. But the sheriff appeared with a restraining order and the divorce papers had been filed all before Kevin knew anything was happening. It was crazy... It was not supposed to work that way. But there were signed statements, names Tague recognized.

The bank accounts had been raided. He had lost his job. Even when he excluded that job in applications, he kept getting denied new jobs... jobs he was overqualified for. He was responsible for child support but had no visitation.

"Aaron called me last week, warned me he thought the Sisterhood was trying to ensnare your wife."

"Aaron?"

"Owns the hardware store. He hates what has happened here... remembers the time before Alexandra had all the leaders wrapped around her finger. Before they destroyed the old Catholic church to put up that monstrous eyesore... before they changed the name of the town. He didn't grow up here, but says his life is here, and he won't leave."

"So, what do I do?" Tague wondered if the man was envisioning a Schwarzenegger style rescue.

"I don't know," it was almost a sob, "They have all the levers of power. They have growing power in Seattle, man. Leave. Take your wife and get out."

"But we're building a life here." Kevin looked at him pointedly.

"That's what I said. And my wife loved me, and I loved her." He sighed. "I know, I must sound crazy. Ask Aaron. I think divorce records are public records... Fowlers. The papers were served 5 years ago last month." Tague was starting to see why the man looked so gaunt... five years without a job trying to save his family would age a man. "I don't even come up here anymore," he went on, shoulders sagging, "I gave up on ever getting Brenda back or... or meeting my kids..."

"Kids plural?"

"Twins," he was obviously proud, even if he was kept form being a part of their lives. "I don't have any suggestions but to run, man. Run now, before it's too late." He shrugged, "I'll leave so no one sees you were talking to me. I just had to come up and warn you." He kicked at the floor, "At least you're south of town, right on the highway. I've heard stories of people who tried to run and didn't make it." His words seemed to frighten him. He glanced nervously out the window. "I've been here, too long."

Tague saw the man off, watching him use a key to unlock an aging Honda Civic with mismatched doors and a badly cracked windshield. A gout of black smoke accompanied the engine turning over and did not abate as Kevin reversed and headed back down the drive to the highway. Tague locked the door, grabbed his laptop, and began making notes. Running when Karen got back would never work, even if he could convince her to go. But now Tague knew his concerns were well founded. He sat for a long time, heedless of the television, trying to work out how to save his wife from her friends.

Chapter 11

Fortunately, there were no client concerns on Monday. Making sure he was on his own time, Tague sent out inquiries both in house and across the Seattle legal community, to firms as well as the scattered court houses. He had expected a wait, but before the end of business he had several cases, and lists of others that were on the way. With or without kids, the divorce cases coming out of Pokrovska were acrimonious. Restraining orders. Claims of abuse and harassment. Claims of drug use, alcoholism, and criminal behavior. He thought the list was comprehensive by Wednesday.

He 'worked late' each night, though Karen barely seemed to notice. And by Thursday his focus and dedication were filling in the gaps, and proving Kevin's ominous warnings were perhaps being generous to the 'Church.' He had cross-referenced husband's names, and found that despite the claims not a single ex-husband had been subsequently charged with any crime. In fact, only a handful had any prior arrests, a few had DUI's or MIP's from college days. Once had been charged with petty larceny also while in college, and five had drunk in public or other charges, some of the latter, though Tague suspected to be... staged as the charges had been levied in Pokrovska, and he knew the sheriff was a 'Sister' from other records and testimony.

He kept track of the outliers. The husband who was also a lawyer who had successfully been knocking down the flood of nuisance notions and countering the seeming lies looked like a case that might go 'the husband's way.' But the man had died in a one car crash returning from Seattle on a Friday evening. Another husband who had successfully proven he was not present on dates when he had been alleged to have been abusing his wife and doing drugs, then was found dead of an overdose a week later. Three cases had been doing well only to have lawyers drop the case, and the new team was less successful. In several cases, husbands had 'simply disappeared,' not attending court, not responding to the judge or their lawyer.

There were an average of three suicides each year, and the cases Tague was accumulating covered twenty years, with a low of five cases the first year, and a high of twenty-five cases in three separate years. Two hundred thirteen cases in 20 years. The town's population was only 3,246. Tague knew the number varied but the last measured per capita rate was 2.5 divorces per 1000 people. Even the most aggressive study he knew of had said only 14 married women in 1000 would divorce in a year. Excluding cases where the 'church' was not mentioned there were 240 divorces over 20 years. That had to be the worst divorce rate in the nation.

That still left him with no clear course of action. He left a lengthy message for Matthew, asking about expediting an idea he had broached during their work that now seemingly distant Sunday, based upon some of the other work he had been doing. Tague had a hunch it might be necessary if whatever he did was not going to leave he and Karen penniless and unemployed.

He was still back before 9pm, and drove past the house and into town. He parked around the side at the hardware store, and went inside, feigning an interest in the barbeque selection until the young clerk went into the back. Then he made a beeline for Aaron.

"What is wrong in this town?" he said without pre-amble.

"Everything," the old man countered, just as bluntly. "Leave. Take your wife. If she still loves you she'll get over your 'mid-life crisis' or whatever you want to call it. Do it now, tonight. Leave everything. Go or it will be too late."

"I'm not sure I still have a wife," Tague snarled, "I don't have a family." Aaron snorted.

"And here you won't ever have a family. You'll only have black haired drones, doing the bidding of the damn church."

"Then why are you here?" Tague truly wanted to know, "You could come along, help support my position when I try to deprogram my wife."

"Deprogramming isn't too far off," Aaron nodded, then shook his head. "But I can't leave. I should, I know. But it won't happen." He was moving toward the glass storefront, away from the backroom. Tague waited. "My daughter is... My daughter is theirs," Aaron whispered, "Has been since day one. I have no idea what happened to her husband. If the 'Church told her to, she would set me on fire and laugh as I burned, but I can't abandon her." Tague nearly shouted he was so frustrated. He shook his head.

"I'm going to find a way to stop this."

"You won't," Aaron shook his head, "You think... a hundred guys before you weren't thinking the same thing?"

"Two hundred forty," Tague answered, "Minus the guys who died or disappeared." He knew he was not going to get anything more, doubted Aaron really knew much more. He pushed back from the counter, but the old man caught his sleeve, holding fast and pulling him close.

"Don't let them know you're looking into that," he hissed, "Don't let on that you're suspicious." Just then the young clerk came in, face impassive, but his gaze fixed on them both. Tague felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Karen had once told him they always told ED docs in training never to let a patient or family member get between you and the door, and to 'listen to your body.' 'If the hair on the back of your neck stands up, it is not just because you're cold, something inside you is trying to sound an alarm and you should listen to it,' he could hear her saying. Tague closed his eyes, praying he could save his wife and marriage.

"I'm telling you man, you need to listen to me. I'm not crazy, you're in danger." Tague yanked his hand away and slammed the jar of Dot's barbecue rub on the counter.

"Don't tell me how to do my ribs, I'm doing it the way my daddy taught me and he hasn't ever been burned." Aaron blinked, then barked a laugh, looking to his employee.

"Can you believe this guy won't listen to me about how to smoke his pork butt?" The young man looked at Tague but said nothing to either of them, his expression never changing. It was more than unsettling. Aason was ringing the rub up. "That'll be $9.26"

"That's highway robbery," Tague shook his head sadly, "It's a higher tax rate than they have in Seattle." The old man shrugged, "But look at what the city fathers... well, nowadays city mothers are doing here with all that extra tax money. Built that fancy hospital where your wife works. Rebuilt the town square... city hall was a total dump when I moved here."

Tague took the sugar garlic and pepper mix and left, wondering if there was something important in what the old man had told him. It seemed like there was, but he could not pin point what it was. At least he now had an excuse to talk to the shop owner again, asking for the 'real way' to do west coast barbeque.

***

Tague made a habit of listening to the local AM radio station, a 'tiki torch' the morning anchor would say as he relayed local news and a local take on Seattle news. Tague was almost out of range when the man's tired voice shocked him.

"And in depressing local news, Real Value Hardware store owner Aaron Greer is dead. He was found by family when he did not show up to open the shop this morning, and his clerk and grandson Dimitri went to his place south of town. He found his grandfather had fallen from the barn ladder, and was dead when Dimitri arrived. The sheriff has examined the scene, and says a rung apparently gave way. There will be a vigil..." Tague snapped the radio off. He scanned the road more aggressively acutely aware that he now felt like he was a target.

"No way the old man died accidentally," he growled, even as he knew he would never be able to prove otherwise. He shivered remembering the emotionless stare of the young man... so that was Aaron's grandson. It made sense, considering he had said his daughter was part of the sisterhood. The kid had to be 17 or 18, so Aaron had seen all of the changes to Pokrovska. Tague wondered if poking around in his home might help, but quickly discarded the idea. The 'Church' was smart enough that if there was even possibly something damning the place would be guarded. Or burned to the ground.

Aware of what Aaron had said, Tague was home in normal time Friday night. Karen initially did not want to go out when he asked if she was ready, but he pointed out if they stayed in it was her turn to fix dinner. She argued she had been 'busy helping' and agreed eating out would work. Tague was left wondering how she could have forgotten eating out Fridays was their usual unwind routine. He wondered if the Sisterhood was using drugs of some sort.

She chose Italian, then picked at an Italian salad and salmon dish. Tague realized she was getting dangerously thin, and encouraged her to eat, pointing out she needed her strength for whatever help her sisters would need that weekend. Karen shrugged and resumed eating, only to be interrupted by a woman bustling up with three black haired stair step children in tow, gushing about how helpful Karen had been while she needed to get some work done. Tague smiled politely and thanked the woman for her kind words, and agreed that his wife was one of a kind.

Karen had stopped eating again when the woman left, but shrugged and accepted Tague's suggestion of some tiramisu that they could share. He nearly choked as they worked at the too sweet confection as he suddenly realized a possible awful reason for his wife's anorexia-- was he in danger of being poisoned? He went through their order... He had ordered for both, so the cook or server would not have known who was eating what... unless they just reasonably assumed she would eat the lighter meal.

He watched his wife. Was she in on the plot? He clenched his hands and rubbed his scalp, scolding himself for being paranoid. Karen saw and asked if he was all right. Surprised, Tague shrugged.

"Well, this is the first time in... weeks we've had a quiet dinner." Karen's eyes clouded over, concerned he was going to start a fight. He raised a hand. "No, I'm glad we have some time. I know you've been impossibly busy, and I know I've behaved like a child. I just miss this, so I'm sorry. And thank you." Karen seemed to relax, a bit of the real woman he knew and loved peeking through her eyes. She caught hold of his hand.

"It was a hard day here," she said, "Had you heard about the hardware store owner?" Tague nodded.

"On the way to work. It's awful." He reached for his wine.

"I know. And poor Alexandra... Dimitri was the one who found him." Tague inhaled the wine he was drinking, then began coughing violently. More pieces fell into place. And the hair at the back of his neck was working overtime again. He managed to control the need to cough after another minute, and dropped enough to cover the bill and a tip, suggesting they get home.