The Healing of Eve Ch. 09

I awoke to the delicious smell of home cooked bread and looking at my watch found it was almost seven o'clock. I shook Beth awake and we put on our robes and followed our noses downstairs and into the kitchen where Martha was bent over the stove and the glorious golden-brown loaf of bread stood cooling on the table. Martha turned and greeted us with a smile.

"Here you are at last," she said, "you can help me by laying the table if you like, John will be down in a minute."

Beth and I looked at each other in astonishment. This was a different woman. Gone was the rather hostile Martha of yore, to be replaced by this smiling, cheerful apparition who seemed to treat us as members of the family, rather than unwanted interlopers. She even looked different, her hair was down and, freed from its customary pins, hung to her shoulders, rich and glossy. Rather than the dowdy working clothes she had worn since we had arrived, she was now clad in a well-fitting robe of deepest emerald green, through which the curves of her body were clearly outlined as she moved. With a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes I realised for the first time what a beauty she was. We busied ourselves laying the table, and not the kitchen table either for the table in the sitting room had been opened out and adorned with a pure-while Irish linen cloth. By the time John entered the room the table was laid, crystal wine glasses sparking in the firelight and the shine of the silverware making the table look as inviting as any I could remember. I was absolutely famished, the trauma of the previous days, the prolonged passion of the afternoon and the delicious aromas wafting through from the kitchen combined to make me feel almost faint with hunger, so I was glad that we did not linger over our aperitif but took our places at the table while Martha brought in the steaming bowls of soup that were to be our first course.

I'm afraid I made a bit of a pig of myself. In my defence the soup was delicious, the bread, still warm from the oven, was amazing, and as I have already pointed out, I was starving. So, I can't remember anything that was said for at least the first ten minutes of the meal. I finally lifted my head from my bowl to the incredulous stares of Martha and Beth.

"Er, did you enjoy that?" Martha asked as I mopped up the last remnants of soup with a chunk of bread.

"It was absolutely yummy," I said, "I don't suppose there's any more is there?"

"I'm afraid not," Martha laughed, "but there's a lamb hotpot to follow and then cheese, probably between them we'll be able to fill you up."

"I don't know what's come over Hazel," Beth apologised, "she's normally much better behaved when we're in polite company."

John laughed. "I'm sure she is," he said, "but we can forgive her this once can't we Martha? She's had quite an eventful afternoon... We all have.

"I can see that." Martha said and for a moment I thought that Grumpy Martha was going to re-instate herself. But to my surprise, she continued, "I'm afraid I owe you an apology, I had you down as two of the selfish kind that come here seeking healing without a thought of the consequences for the healer..."

"Martha," John protested, but she interrupted him.

"No John, it needs saying. Hazel, Beth, you are not the first to have found John here, although we have taken care to shut ourselves off from the world. And when they come, John cannot find it in himself to turn them away, no matter the personal cost. Even using the orgasmic ritual as he did with you this afternoon the drain on him is immense. I said to you this morning that it can take weeks for him to recover his strength. During those times he has been so low as to be close to death. So when you came, terrible state though you were in...Well, put it this way, I was less welcoming than I should have been."

"Don't mention it, your bread and soup more than make up for any previous lack of warmth on your part," I thought the situation needed lightening up. "But I don't understand, John seems full of energy, despite curing Beth in spectacular fashion." I looked at him sitting at table with us, bright eyed, the very picture of vitality. "Aren't you supposed to be exhausted?"

John smiled. "Ah," he said, "that is rather down to you and Beth. You two are rather special people as it turns out. Once Beth was healed, your uppermost thought and desire was to return pleasure to your giver -- me. That, freely offered, with love, by both of you and accepted with gratitude by me was enough to more than replenish the spiritual reserves that healing can often deplete." His eyes twinkled, "and as I discovered, you are both adept in the sensual arts. Martha now wishes she had stayed for the ritual, rather than going walking, don't you Martha?"

Martha looked contrite. "Yes, in retrospect it would have been good," she said, and then, enigmatically," but perhaps there will be another time."

Now I was surprised, it had not occurred to me that Martha could have been a participant in the healing. My imagination stirred, I looked at her more carefully, wondering what her role would have been. I looked at her hands. They were well cared for, but they were the hands of a woman who knew hard work. I visualised her strong fingers exploring my body with a touch that was sure and firm. My eyes strayed to where the fabric of her robe flowed over the curve of her breasts and to where the shape of her nipples was so tantalisingly outlined beneath the fine fabric. Not erect now, but large and luscious in my imagination. Did Martha sense my thoughts? I think so because she casually leaned forward so that her robe fell open, just enough to reveal a glimpse of the soft, pale skin of her breasts and the deep shadow of her cleavage. I caught her eye, and she held my gaze as though issuing an invitation. Then the moment passed, but I somehow knew that this was a harbinger of things to come.

The rest of the meal lived up to the promise of the starter and we passed it in general conversation, neither Beth nor I feeling it right to ask the question whose answer we most needed to hear. It wasn't until the meal was over, the table cleared, and we had settled into comfortable chairs around the fire that John spoke.

"Thank you for being patient during dinner," he said, "perhaps it seems cruel to you to be kept waiting, but when you hear what we have to say I hope you will understand." Beth and I looked at each other, if John refused to help I did not know what we would do.

John continued, "Martha and I have discussed your situation at great length and it has not been an easy decision for us, but we have decided that the seriousness of Eve's situation makes it impossible for us to refuse your request for help."

The look of relief on Beth's face was almost comical, and I'm sure it mirrored mine because I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"I don't know how to thank you..." Beth began, but John cut her short with a wave of his hand.

"You had best reserve your thanks until you hear the rest of what I have to say," John's face was grave and Martha too looked far from happy. "Have you given any thought as to how it is that Eve became...let's call it 'half-pregnant' for want of a better term?"

"It seems pretty obvious that whatever occurred happened during the Great Rite," Beth replied, and John nodded. "I believe that somehow Sarah is trying to fulfil one of the deepest desires that she and I had before she became ill, to have a child." Beth's voice broke. I could only reach out to her and hold her. I had no words for the pain of her loss. John stayed silent, allowing Beth to recover herself, and then spoke gently.

"Beth, you must not let your hope blind you. Eve was possessed by a Daemon as well as by the spirit of Sarah. You must see the possibility that Eve's condition is the work of this foul spirit. In fact Martha and I are agreed that this is by far the most likely cause."

"No!" Bath cried out, "I won't believe it. Sarah would not have allowed it. She remained in Eve's body after the Daemon was expelled, she would have..."

"Sister you forget yourself," Martha spoke with anger in her voice. "Your grief... your loss, however deep has to be put aside. You must know in your heart that Sarah would be powerless against such a foe as this daemon. Eve's life is at risk, her very soul is in jeopardy. We would not be offering our help if we were not certain that this is the case."

Before Beth could respond to Martha's angry outburst, John spoke once more.

"Tell me something Beth; Was Sarah a loving person? Did she care for others, or was she self-centred?"

"She was one of the least self-centred people I ever knew," Beth said, "it was her essential nature."

"And would someone like Sarah, use Eve's body to bear a child without any possibility of her consent? That does not sound to me like the work of someone whose nature is to care for others."

Beth's face was a mask of grief. I knew John was right and fear gripped my heart. Deep inside I had considered this as a possibility but had kept silent, unable, or unwilling to trample on Beth's hopes. Now all I could do was hold Beth as she faced the cruel truth, and the sobs shook her body. John and Martha sat silently until Beth recovered herself sufficiently to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said brokenly, "I know you're right, I'm not always this foolish."

"Here, take these," Martha spoke in a voice full of compassion, handing Beth a box of tissues. The anger of a few moments ago now completely dissipated,

Beth gave a wan smile, "Thank you Martha, I wish now we hadn't finished the contents of my flask."

"We may have something that you will find almost as good," John smiled, "Martha let's have a glass of our twenty-five-year-old shall we."

Martha served the fiery spirit from tiny earthenware cups and John was right, it worked its magic, and soon Beth's composure was restored, and we sat listening intently as John began to talk.

"Let me start by saying that the situation we face is a difficult and potentially dangerous one." He said. "Martha and I are convinced that the embryo which Eve bears is of demonic origin. This is by no means an unknown thing. While thankfully it is not common, I am sure that one can see examples of it throughout history. It manifests itself in people whose evil seems to know no bounds, one thinks of Hitler, Pol Pot, Robert Mugabe, the child killer Ian Brady and many others. These people were not simply possessed by demons, they were in fact part demon. Quintessentially evil.

Usually, the forces of darkness are wily, they corrupt the ovum of a woman who is in a regular sexual relationship with a man. A demon cannot by itself create a human baby but once the corrupted ovum is fertilised by male sperm the result is a child with a soul of incarnate evil and the human suffering caused by these creatures is incalculable. In most cases the parents will know nothing of the way their child was conceived. As the child grows, they will see that the child has tendencies that would not be considered normal, it may exhibit gratuitous cruelty to animals, be antisocial to varying degrees and certainly start to show behaviours which reveal the darkness within its soul.

Sadly, we think Eve is the host for just such a being, as yet unfertilised, but sufficient to cause the hormonal changes in her body that mimic pregnancy. This is the corrupted ovum's way to maximise its chance of survival, reducing the risk it of expulsion through the host woman's normal menstrual cycle before being fertilised.

My mind went back to Eve's first visit to our house and how the evening had unexpectedly ended in a passionate threesome. Now I suddenly remembered the word Eve had used to describe her craving for sex, 'hunger' she had called it. And I remembered her unwonted ardour, how she would have almost torn my robe off had I not slowed her down. I relayed my thoughts.

"It is entirely possible that the daemon seed would try to stimulate the libido of its host woman. Its aim is to be fertilized and an increased sex drive would improve the probability," John said. "But this is speculation. I need to tell you what Martha and I think needs to be done."

John took another sip of his drink before speaking again.

"Eve needs to be brought here for a ceremony of healing, not unlike that which we performed this afternoon but with a crucial difference. During the ceremony I will fully penetrate Eve, bring her to orgasm and ejaculate. This will, we hope, and with the help of the Goddess, destroy the corrupt embryo. In time then Eve will restart her normal menstrual cycle, and she will recover. Your first job is to prepare her emotionally for the ceremony, you will have crucial roles to play in the ceremony itself and afterwards she will need your help to come to terms with what has happened to her. It will not be easy, despite anything we may say, some part of her will undoubtedly suffer from what will be in effect an abortion."

Beth and l looked at each other. It seemed to me that the sooner we performed the ceremony the better. If Eve was being driven close to nymphomania by the corruption in her womb she might easily find someone to impregnate her, if she hadn't already. We knew that she had been a virgin at the time of the great rite and I was sure that our threesome was only her second real sexual experience, but in the time since we had last seen her, well who knew? I voiced my thoughts,

"It strikes me that we had better go home as soon as possible and get Eve to a safe place. We don't' know to what lengths she might be driven to satisfy her sexual hunger. We might already be too late."

"Yes, that would be very wise," John said. "Martha will call Johnny and have him come and pick you up in the four-wheel drive in the morning. Go home as quickly as you can and look after Eve. Prepare her as best you can and bring her here. In the meantime, Martha and I will plan the ceremony in more detail. We must take great care, the forces we are dealing with cannot be underestimated."

And so, with little appetite for small talk after the momentous events of the day, we went to bed. Exhausted, Beth and I fell asleep quickly, but my sleep was broken by dark dreams and I was glad when the grey light of dawn began to lift the shadows of the room.

Martha brought up our outdoor clothes, clean and dry, and told us that Johnny would collect us no later than 9am. We dressed for the first time in anything other than robes and had just finished a hasty breakfast when the sound of a horn outside told us that our car had arrived. There was a brief knock at the door and Johnny entered, cheerful and full of life. Martha gave him coffee and there was a brief exchange of local gossip which was conducted out of our earshot.

"John will rest today," Martha said as she escorted us to the Land Rover, which was covered in mud but looked indestructible, "may the Goddess go with you." And that was it. Johnny talked incessantly about everything and nothing as the Land Rover lurched and ground its way over the rough terrain and after a couple of hours of torture, we found ourselves back at our car, still parked where we had left it in the real world, or so it seemed to me. My head spinning from the physical battering of the journey and the dislocation of recent days, I found the car keys and we drove the short distance to present ourselves to a disgruntled Helen and collect our luggage. Then to the airport and a tedious wait for a flight that was long delayed. Now we were anxious to return home. We made calls to Eve but they were not picked up. We did manage to contact Sister Rose and she had seen Eve two days previously but would not disclose the reason for Eve's visit, her medical ethics overriding our pleas for information.

It was after 10 pm by the time we finally unlocked the front door of our cottage. The familiarity and peace of our home was like a balm to the soul. And although it was late and we were extremely tired we decided to light a fire and have a nightcap before going to bed.

Comfortable in our robes, seated on the sofa in front of the newly kindled fire I was starting to unwind. Beth quietly massaged my toes as I sipped hot chocolate with a little something added, and for a few precious moments all was peaceful.

And then the phone rang. Loudly and insistently, shattering the peace of the evening. I knew by some instinct, even before Beth answered, that it was Eve.

"Eve, wait a moment," Beth said and took the phone from her ear to switch it into speaker mode, "Take a breath, Hazel is listening, tell us what's happened."

"I'm scared, there's a man outside my door, he's drunk and trying to get in. I don't know what he'll do to me if he gets in." Eve sounded almost hysterical.

"Is the door secure?" Beth said, her voice calm and authoritative. Only the distant sound of banging and shouting came back.

"Eve," Beth spoke again this time with urgency in her voice. "Listen to me. Is the door secure? Can he get through it quickly?"

"He's shouting horrible things, terrible things, saying things about me. He's torn my clothes." If Beth was impatient her voice did not betray it, and with icy calm she repeated her question.

"Eve, how secure is your door?"

"Strong. Yes it's a strong door," she sounded a little more rational but the commotion in the background was distinctly audible and Eve was right, "Fucking Bitch" was one of the nicer things being shouted between the bangs on the door.

"Hazel, get dressed quickly we need to get there," In my head I was thinking that a couple of burly police types would be a better bet than the likes of Beth and I, but I didn't hesitate, taking the stairs two at a time ripping off my robe as I went. It was the matter of a moment to pull on jeans and a jumper, grab my boots from the hall and drag them over my feet, no time to bother with socks.

"Eve, we're on our way," Beth said, "don't talk to him, stay quiet and if it looks like he is going to get through the door go and lock yourself in the bathroom, you need to slow him down until we get there. We'll be less than fifteen minutes." Beth put the phone down and raced towards the door, calling, "come on Hazel," as she ran down the hall towards the front door.

"Are you really going like that?" I shouted as the barefoot, robe-clad, Beth shot through the door and headed down the path towards where the car was parked outside the house.

"No time to change," she called back and with a mental shrug, I slammed the door shut and followed her, throwing myself into the passenger seat of the car as she accelerated away.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" I said, not wishing to distract the woman behind the wheel of a car which was not made for speed, but which appeared to be flying down the road. Nevertheless it was a question I felt needed asking.

"Too complicated," she replied. "We can deal with it."

I thought that our ability to deal with 'it' might depend rather a lot on how drunk 'it' was and how large and strong 'it' turned out to be, but I kept these thoughts to myself and hung on, as we rounded yet another corner on two wheels. And it turned out Beth was correct, due to a combination of minimal traffic and Beth's crazy driving we skidded to a halt outside Eve's apartment dead on ten minutes.

As soon as I opened my door I heard the banging, accompanied by a stream of the foulest invective it has ever been my misfortune to listen to, and thinking of poor Eve, defenceless inside with some thug trying to knock down her door was enough to make my blood boil. Incandescent with rage I thrust open the car door. Drunk or sober, large or small, this moron was not going to know what hit him. But Beth, barefoot as she was, beat me to it. Like a whirlwind she sprinted up the short pathway and burst through the outside door and into the corridor where Eve's apartment was. Rounding the corner only a few seconds after her I pulled up sharp. There, shoulder charging the door stood a brute of a man, sweating with the effort, obviously drunk and extremely angry.