“Charles, you have done well.” The Father looked down at Tania. “And Captain Tania Kovitz, you have something for me.”

Tania kept her head down, nodded, and held out the Book. A priest came and took it from her, and disappeared back into the shadows. Drummond didn’t even know the man was there, and it made him wonder who or what else was lurking in those darker alcoves, watching them.

The Father held forth his hand to Tania, and she stayed still unmoving, not knowing what was expected of her.

Drummond felt his irritation rise at her inexperience, and he hoped the Father wasn’t as insulted as he was. “Kiss it, you stupid bitch. Show your obedience.”

Tania’s head came up, and she saw the hand for the first time. Drummond heard her rapid intake of breath, and he smiled. The hand was a mottled greenish-black with lumps and protrusions all over the boneless-looking fingers. Tania reached out slowly, and Drummond could see her own hand shook – the Father’s beauty was not for everyone.

Her head started to tilt upward, slowly, jerkily, her eyes rounder than he thought possible. Hold yourself with dignity, he prayed.

The woman’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream, and he saw her tongue retreat to the back of her throat. The Father leaned forward and she now looked directly into his face. The dark folds of the cowl rippled as things inside the hood coiled, writhed and twisted, like some many-legged sea creature moving in agitation.

Drummond watched from the corner of his eye, becoming tense, as it looked for a moment she might snatch her own hand away. But instead, the Father’s hand continued to reach out, those long boneless fingers extending, impossibly long, and coiling around her wrist and forearm. She looked down in horror at first, and then pain, as the sting began. Drummond saw the skin on her wrist redden.

“I…am…your servant,” Tania hissed between tight lips and gritted teeth.

“Yes, you are. And you will be forever.” The voice was watery, bubbling, made by a tongue and vocal chords not meant for surface speech. The grip tightened and the skin on her wrist began to blacken.

Tania’s resolve snapped and she began to scream, a long siren sound that rose in pitch and intensity. Before the noise became unbearable, there came explosive movement from under the cowl. Black whipping tendrils shot out to wrap around her head and neck, holding her tight, and dragging her closer.

Charles got to his feet and backed up a step. He’d never seen this before, and felt his own fear tingle his spine. The masses of rubbery strands, pipes and limbs forced themselves into her mouth, nose, ears, and ripped away her clothing to find other egress into her pale body. She seemed to swell, and angry red fissures opened all over her as if her insides were growing too large for the delicate outer sheath of her skin.

Then, to Charles’s horror, she just burst apart – she didn’t explode, exactly. It was as if her outer shell were violently cast off. The discarded bits of her face, head and body flew to the corners of the room, and then she, it, stood there, bloated, glistening black, and her once-beautiful blue eyes were still there, but now many more formed and popped open. They slid along her bulging body and its ever-sprouting multiple limbs – some human arms, some whipping tentacles or crab-like claws. Just as quickly as she had become the grotesque thing, she began to reform back into a Tania shape. A few shards of her former self still hung wetly to the new, false pink skin.