I was in a cult. We held our rites between the empty stacks of a long closed library.

She My Messiah was tall, with long blonde hair. I would supplicate myself to her for the fleeting chance at any recognition. I received her commands with the phrase, "Yes, My Messiah", and she would kiss the back of my head as I knelt. This is what I lived for.

Near her there was light. As I moved away, there was darkness. This is where lived the demons we worshiped. They were old and could terrify as they fascinated.

One had a pale, nude body of a beautiful woman. She had firm round breasts, and the curve of her bottom trembled with every of her footfalls. Her arms, though, each tapered into a thick tentacle with which she could rip flesh apart. Her neck ended in a cauterized headless stump.

Another: this one lived in the dark places, hunting by the light of body heat. She left a trail of mucus and sea water. When I found her, she was curled up and did not seem inclined to attack. Her body was that of a very old woman, drenched as if having just stepped out from the ocean; her skin was a slick, sickly mottled purple membrane.

She My Messiah was here as well. On her prompting, this demon took a new form, of a beautiful young woman. A pale brunette with smart eyes, still laughing glibly at the fall of Sumer. She even tasted human. These two lay before me, and I went down on them, and made them come, as my act of worship. This was novel to them.