King of Locusts | ✔

The Priestess & The Wizard Part 2

[Bonus chapter]

Michelle and Robert reconvened many times following that Halloween night. She amused him with stories about her mother's germophobia, particularly outlandish sermons from Pastor Evans, and passing anecdotes from her daily life. Initially, Robert shared very little, preferring to listen to Michelle divulge information. However, he opened up when it became clear that she had no harmful intentions.

She learned that he was roughly two years her senior, and that he was raised around other mages—not 'heretics,' he often corrected her—his entire life. To Michelle's surprise, Robert's parents weren't Luciferian, but Wiccan. While he appreciated the horned god's wisdom and the goddess's love, he felt stifled by the harm none aspect of the religion. While he was allowed to learn the fundamentals of baneful magic to protect himself from its effects, he was forbidden from using it, which he found to be a complete waste of knowledge.

"What drew you to doing the magical 180?" Michelle asked one day.

They were at a busy café in Stony Brook. It was about four months since their initial meeting, and she was on midwinter break.

"Not to open old wounds," he said before taking a deep draft of his hot chocolate. "But it has to do with especially devout members of your congregation."

He watched Michelle's face, frowning when her eyes dropped to her cup of Earl Grey. "Not that you have anything to be responsible for," he quickly added.

She couldn't help the pang in her heart whenever he mentioned the mistreatment he experienced from her fellow churchgoers. Robert, not seeking pity, tried to avoid mentioning those instances. Nonetheless, she would inadvertently ask questions that forced him to recall those moments.

"Right," she agreed, then added, "So what's the story?"

"It was about four years ago in early spring," he began, his smooth voice drawing Michelle in like a hypnotic spell. "My parents and I went to your town's farmers market. Winfair's and most of the neighboring areas weren't starting until the following week. My father is especially into locally-grown produce, reducing carbon emissions and all that.

"We made sure to dress inconspicuously so as to not offend, given your town's religious inclinations. But of course something went wrong. When my mom reached into her wallet to pay for a bag of onions, her sleeve pulled back and it exposed one of her devotional tattoos. The guy flipped, it was like a switch went off in his head. Fucker started yelling at the top of his lungs, calling us heretics, Satanists."

Michelle peered into her tea, blushing deeply. It wasn't long ago that she harbored similar thoughts.

"It's alright. You know better now," he assured her before continuing.

"They chased us out of the market and threw their produce at us. I remember how furious I felt at how our money wasn't good enough for them, all because of what religion we practiced. I remember the rage and desire to punish them, not because they would change their ways, but because I felt they deserved it. I never wanted to feel helpless again."

"I see," Michelle said, reeling from his story. "So that's what drew you to Luciferianism."

"Partially," he amended, smiling at her confused stare. "I went solo for about two years, still mostly practicing Wicca but also seeking counsel from mages of other faiths. My parents were upset, but they understood my need to explore. I came across Luciferian monks along my studies that attracted me with the promises of freedom and wisdom, and the power to protect my community and loved ones. It's been roughly two years..."

He trailed off, turned to the window, and narrowed his gaze. The once light and puffy clouds darkened, and a thunderclap shook the sky. Michelle hardly noticed the other customers' startled jumps. "And I don't regret my decision at all." She watched in awe as Robert waved his hand and the thick atmosphere dissipated.