Tamera the Unbeliever

"Which is what makes your mouth so remarkably talented," he grinned, as if that was explanation enough. "You have such a natural flair for this, you should research your family tree. There's no telling what demons are hiding in your closets."

"Skeletons," she corrected. "People hide skeletons in their closets."

"My mistake," Derthian agreed. "Do you suppose Duncan's Disciples taught their victims how to say those words?"

As a woman of science, Tamera easily dismissed his suggestion. "Unlikely. Aside from the challenge of teaching diction, your assumption is based on the faulty premise that magic could be real."

Derthian smiled as he shook his head, dismissing her argument. "I can see women of science remain as foolish as men of science. Might I ask how you feel right now?"

"Fine," she said, refusing to admit that she was excited to a stranger.

"It's amazing how readily you can deny evidence," he said, his eyes dropping to her chest as if he could see her stiff nipples straining against the inside of her bra. He made a gesture with his both hands, as if he were cupping her breasts. He rubbed a long fingers against his thumbs as if he had captured her nipples between his digits and were caressing them. The gesture was smooth and elegant, a flourish to make any stage magician proud. More importantly, Tamera felt the gesture as if he had applied his hands to her body. Her stiff nipples ached in response, welcoming the touch and begging for more. When he dropped his hands, the sensation ended without satisfying her ache. "But you're correct, let's set aside magic for a moment and consider facts. Have any of his Disciples complained of being raped?"

"He did have sex with each of them," Tamera confirmed.

"But did they complain about the sex? Did any of them say they were raped?"

"Imprisoned and abused people are often confused. Many of the victims are experiencing clear traits of Stockholm Syndrome." Tamera's case for what Duncan had done to his "Disciples" started with Stockholm Syndrome. His control over them had been strong, too strong to explain away by a combination of Duncan's charisma and the mental vulnerabilities of each disciple. Tamara remained determined to prove her hypothesis of brainwashing.

Derthian released a sharp and sudden bellow of laughter. "What a perfect way to explain away something that defies explanation, label it."

"It's a well documented reaction to stress," Tamera insisted, clutching to her education. "Experienced by nearly eight percent of hostages." He wasn't buying it and she gave up trying to defend her field of study. "Duncan committed many crimes."

"Duncan dared to dream of more and was smart enough to discover a way to attain it."

"All Duncan attained is a death penalty defense." She fought against an urge to squirm. Why the hell was she so aroused?

With his gloved hand, Derthian flipped another page. He pointed to a number handwritten in the bottom corner. "Have you seen how Duncan renumbered the pages? So smart. Most never realize our ability to hide knowledge. Passages were purposely published out of order. So much misinformation." He clucked as he turned pages. "This is a very dangerous book."

"Why?" Tamera asked, studying pages as quickly as she could before Derthian flipped from one to another. Without seeing the cover or title page, Tamera couldn't be sure what book Duncan had consulted.

"Duncan's notes," Derthian said, running his finger across scrawled words in a margin. "Pretenders treat the dark arts like a recipe. Eye of newt and scale of dragon, that sort of nonsense. Duncan understood the rhyme behind the reason without becoming obsessed with trivial details. It's an art, not a science." He turned another page, revealing another highlighted passage. "Might I ask you to try reciting another passage?"

"Can you translate it first?"

"As before, it does not have a literal translation."

"Yet the last, um, incantation had a purpose," Tamera said, uncomfortable suggesting the words could have real power while striving to meet her guest on his terms.

"Yes and so does this one, but does it matter to a non-believer?"

He smiled, watching her carefully and Tamera felt his trap. Refusal suggested belief. However, reciting the words meant she was being manipulated. "Merely curious," she said, smiling back at him. "I believe you could recite the words as accurately as I could."

"Shall I?" he offered.

"Please do."

He stared at her as he recited the words from his brief glance at the page. She felt his eyes studying her. She saw his bemused smirk when he finished. "You may breathe now," he said and he was right. Tamera had been holding her breath. She slowly released her pent-up lungful of air as discreetly as she could. "Isn't it interesting how much power these symbols have? Even for a professed non-believer, you hesitated, didn't you?"

"Caution is the better part of valor," she sighed with a smile. She felt foolish.

"Caution is the path to mediocrity," he suggested.

"Frank Herbert, God Emperor of Dune," Tamera said, citing the original author of that phrase. She watched Derthian flip pages, studying how he moved gracefully, with the minimal amount of movement required to make a page move.

She still felt her aching desire between her legs and against her bra. Being so aroused reminded her of an upper level class on human sexuality. How many classroom sessions had she sat through while fighting against an overwhelming desire for sex? Even more frustrating were the fifteen minutes she had between that class and her next. If she didn't find satisfaction before that next class started, she was a wet mess by the time she returned to her dorm room. The practical answer required pleasuring herself in the bathroom before the next class began. She hated doing that.

It wasn't the act of masturbation that had bothered Tamera. Without the guilt of a religion to temper her baser desires, she wasn't afraid to pleasure herself as often as her body required. She understood masturbation was healthy activity. No, what bothered her about doing it between classes was how she was forced to do it in a public bathroom. As other women visited stalls to relieve full bladders, she rubbed her pussy and bit back moans while answering a different call from nature.

Derthian reminded her of a wise professor, a fount of secret knowledge. While she didn't share his belief system, she respected what he knew. Was that part of her thrill? This strange man was clearly an expert on these matters and knowledge attracted Tamera. He picked up a small grouping of pages, moving deeper into the book as if looking for something. After a couple more page turns, he stopped and pointed. "Here," he said, pointing. "Can you read?"

"Aloud?" she asked, moving near him. She glanced at the page and realized the written words no longer appeared foreign to her. Startled, she saw where Derthian had marked the previous section with a ribbon attached to the book. Holding her place with a finger, she flipped backwards and stared at the page she had seen before. It felt as if she now wore special glasses that revealed pieces of letters she had missed before, though she was sure the letters appeared exactly as before. The letters hadn't changed, only her ability to comprehend their meaning and value.

"Drink deeply of secret knowledge," Derthian whispered in her ear. He stroked her hair. She welcomed his touch. She didn't protest when he returned the open book to the new section, marked with her finger. Her eyes skimmed eagerly across the page, filling her with promises of power in exchange for service. There remained nonsensical groupings of words and she understood those were chants or incantations. She moved to turn the page when Derthian placed his hand on top of hers, preventing the action. She looked up at him and he gave her a wise smile.

"None of this can be true," she said, her voice tentative and unsure.

"What if it is?" he asked, caressing her cheek with his long fingers. His hand felt cold. She pulled away ever so slightly. His smile grew. "There are more things in heaven and earth. . ." he said, leaving Hamlet's famous line unfinished.

"I don't believe you," Tamera said, feeling her years of education rebelling against the notion of magic or mysticism.

"You are gifted," he said, running a icy cold finger across her lips. "You were meant to speak the ancient tongue. And, you have knowledge of these matters. This is not your first summoning circle."

"I did a paper on alternative religions," Tamera revealed, distracted by his tiny caresses. Her words were both true and meant to mislead at the same time. As an undergraduate, she had done a paper on pagan religions. That felt like a safer confession than the misspent years of her youth playing with paganism in a vain effort to gain knowledge and power.

Derthian continued caressing her. He played with her hair, touched her neck, and ran his hand up and down her upper arm. Part of her being found his tiny touches repelling while another part of her welcomed his familiarity. She felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristle with a warning that felt lost beneath the sexual thrill still surging through her body. He chuckled at her lie and waited.

"As a teen, I may have read a few books," she hedged, still withholding her truth. Did it matter that she knew how to construct a perfect pentagram? She would never reveal how many failed spells and incantations she had once attempted in the quiet of her suburban bedroom. She had been a frustrated teen in search of understanding; psychiatry partially satisfied her lust for "more."

Derthian's dark eyes bore into her as if he could see the fevered fantasies Tamera once had. Her fascination with the occult had arrived with her monthly cycle and a search for understanding she had never found within her parent's religion. The hocus-pocus of water into wine had suggested magic, magic inferred spells, and spells inferred power to control the randomness of the world around her. She once imagined finding a real Coven or Cabal. As a hot-blooded young woman, she had fantasized about Wiccan orgies.

Ideas of good versus evil faded as a sharp young mind had embraced the idea of chaos theory and the words of great philosophers more interested in humanism. Ironically, the son of a preacher eventually taught her the secret ways of the moon in the backseat of Chevy. Magic never existed, but she had found power available uniquely to a willing woman.

Released from the burden of her innocence, virginity, and the oppression of living with her parents, an eighteen year old Tamera blossomed from a socially awkward teen to a vibrant young woman. During her freshman year she discovered the power of sex. Undoing an extra button on top of her blouse opened doors. A tight t-shirt without a bra could earn a free latte from the horny barista. A hurried blow-job delivered to a professor had excused a paper never submitted. She wasn't above using her charms to further her education or career.

When it became clear she wasn't offering more of an answer, the tall man smiled. "Are you a sinner, Tamera?"

"I'd have to be a believer to be a sinner," she smiled back.

"What if you become a believer?"

When Tamera laughed, his smile faded. She caught the glimmer of an angry micro expression before his smile returned.

"Non-believers are such fun," he said, stroking her cheek as if she were a precocious child. He took off the single glove he wore before turning away. He moved to the low bookcase and picked up the same wiggly shaped dagger Tamera had held behind her back. The dagger was as thin as a rapier's blade without the flex. Its wiggles were little waves. He held the point against his left palm. "But non-believers will never know the power of belief." He pressed the point firmly against his palm.

She watched his arms shake from the exertion of force until the blade penetrated his palm. She held back a gasp as Derthian revealed the depth of his psychosis. His smile never faded, even as the blade pushed through the opposite side of his hand. He rotated his wrist, displaying the penetration like a stage magician. She stared, ready to dart towards the door if he approached her. He remained in place with his only movement designed to display his self-inflicted wound. She noticed the lack of blood. Wearing the same smile, he removed the blade and stabbed it into the bookcase before approaching her again.

"It's okay," he softly murmured. "Nothing more than a stage illusion performed." His approach felt menacing. She fought against her fight-or-flight mechanism. "A simple magic trick," he added, extending his hand towards her. She stared at his palm. It appeared completely unmarked. He turned his hand palm down, allowing her inspection. "You can touch."

She did, feeling his cold hand without finding an indication of what had just happened. "How?" she marveled.

"Magic," Derthian grinned. "Magic I can teach a willing student."

"As you once taught Duncan?"

Derthian shook his head and gave a disapproving cluck. "As I've already said, Duncan performed his work before I was summoned."

"Very convincing," she admitted, taking off her glove before moving to the dagger. She pulled it from the bookcase, surprised with how much effort it took to free the blade. She inspected it closer. It felt genuine. The point was sharp. The blade did not flex. She pressed it against her palm, mimicking his gestures, searching for a trigger mechanism that would retract the blade into the handle. Recalling the force he had used, she pressed harder. The point penetrated the first layer of her dermis, drawing blood from the self-inflicted wound before she stopped.

"And still, she refuses to believe," Derthian said, announcing precisely how Tamera felt.

"Guess I require more than parlor tricks," she said, setting aside the blade. If nothing else, she had confirmed the blade would still work as weapon.

"Then pick up the matches you'll find on the bookcase," Derthian suggested, turning back to the open book. "Let's light some candles and perform an incantation."

Tamera looked at his partial profile as he flipped pages. She spied the box of stick matches and considered his offer. "Will it work if I'm not a believer?" she asked, tempted with the opportunity to explore a real incantation.

"Magic doesn't care if you explain away its existence with scientific labels. If what you call brainwashing others call a spell, does the outcome change?"

"The treatment does," she suggested.

"Or, you're learning why some respond to treatment and some do not." He turned and smiled. "Magic and science walked hand-in-hand for thousands of years, perhaps they still do? How does your world change if you become a believer?"

Tamera surveyed the space and felt an excited chill. If she understood Derthian's offer, he was willing to demonstrate a ceremony. "Can we try casting a spell or summoning a spirit?"

"We summon demons, not spirits," Derthian corrected. "But there is no need for that. Since you're not a believer, perhaps we should cast a binding spell. How do you feel about doing my bidding?" He smiled. His smile looked too big, broad, and filled with too many teeth.

Tamera gave him a confused look. "Define bidding," she requested.

He through back his head and laughed. "Child, haven't you guess it by now? I am not of this realm."

"Not of this world?" she asked, unable to reach the absurdity of calling him a demon.

"I am very much of this world, bound to it in ways you can't understand and have chosen not to believe." He continued his merry grin, appearing absolutely amused. "It's how I know your belief doesn't change the reality of my existence."

"So, you're asking to possess me?"

"I can possess you at any time; I believe a binding would be much more interesting. Imagine the suspension of your freewill. Imagine no longer controlling your decisions. Imagine becoming my puppet to command and control as I see fit. Doesn't that sound more interesting?"

"Is this what Duncan did to his people?"

"Similar. Duncan sought control. You seek understanding. How better to understand than by becoming my servant?"

"Servant or slave?"

"Those words mean the same to me," he replied with another toothy grin. He caressed the side of her pretty face once more before laughing. "Have we become a believer so easily?"

"Of course not," Tamera spat.

"Prove it. Repeat this line three times." He pointed to the book, to the line she had already spoken three times, the line that apparently had stiffened her nipples and dampened her panties with desire.

"What did repeating this line do for Duncan?"

"It made his prick rock hard," Derthian merrily grinned. "Magnificently swollen, erect, and needful. He enjoyed it so much; he's still prone to repeating it today. Sexual arousal leads to desire. Desire leads to lust. And lust is a powerful motivator. I believe you'd enjoy seeing Duncan so firm and needful. His disciples did."

Tamera eyed at the strange words on the page. Had uttering that phrase three times in a row truly brought about her state of hyper arousal? Her well educated mind rejected the concept. Like a master hypnotist, Derthian was planting a suggestion. While that didn't explain the first time she had recited the short passage, it would explain any sensation she felt reciting it this time. "As you point out, I'm already excited," she hedged.

"Excited enough to disrobe for me? Spell casting requires the metaphorical shedding of your worldly shell, baring yourself to all and exposing yourself whatever might happen, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Before a casting begins, robes are always removed. It's symbolic, but symbolism is everything, isn't it?"

Tamera stared at the tall man as she considered her options. She noted the amused smirk on his face and delighted fire in his dark eyes. She evaluated the risk that he was nothing more than a realtor with a mean streak, willing to prank her into getting naked. She pondered the potential that he would try raping her and accessed the risk as very low. Though he was physically larger than her, Tamera hit the gym four times a week. She was much stronger than she appeared. Finally, she flashed back to the spells she once tried to cast in the dark of her bedroom. She had always gotten naked then, too.

"Disrobe and I will instruct you of the proper way to light the candles."

"Counterclockwise, starting closest to the altar. Outer circle first and then the inner circle," she said. His big smiled showed both his upper and lower teeth. She had left her blazer in the car and began with the uppermost buttons of her blouse. She worked downward, watching Derthian as she exposed her cleavage. His eyes remained on hers, even after she shrugged off her blouse and reached between her breasts for the clasp of her bra. His gaze never faltered from remaining locked on her eyes. She continued until she was naked, oddly finding it frustrating that Derthian's gaze never faltered from her eyes. Tamera kept her body trim and fit. Her body was worthy of his lustful, eager gaze.

"Now read the words," he instructed, breaking their stare and looking at the highlighted passage in the book on the pedestal.

"Fine," Tamera sighed, rolling her eyes. Why did this matter so much to him? She stood in front of the book and blinked hard. The words had changed from Latin-esque gibberish into actual words. She flipped a couple pages, searching for the original passage.

"Acceptance brings understanding," Derthian said, laying his hand on the book and preventing her from turning away from the page he desired. "The passage is the same and shall sound the same to anyone listening except you and I."