Quinn wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and we huddled together. Several others around us followed suit. No one spoke above a whisper.
“Did you know this was the first Rite?” I asked Quinn.
She shook her head. “Everyone failed to mention that, and believe me, I asked about tonight. They must have meant it when they said we aren’t allowed to talk about it.”
“Probably, because they make sure we can’t.”
“You think they’re going to compel us?”
I looked around us. This place was only a step up from being a catacomb or a dungeon. Whatever was about to happen was going to be memorable. There was no way every familiar who attended the Salon would keep this secret.
Before I could tell Quinn this, Sabine descended the stairs. In her hands she carried a basket shaped like a cornucopia. Next to her, an older woman wearing a red gown stood with her hands clasped, bound together by a dark rope. Behind them in two lines, beautiful women, dressed in white, followed their lead. Each carried a small basket of their own.
We all fell into silence as Sabine stopped.
“Tonight, we pay homage to the Bona Dea,” she said in a clear, strong voice that echoed off the stone walls. “Damia–mother of us all. From you, our life springs eternal.”
“Damia–mother of us all,” the woman in red next to her repeated. “From you, our magic bears fruit.”
“What in the ever-loving shit?” Quinn whispered.
My thoughts exactly. I felt like we’d wandered into the initiation ceremony for some cult. I spotted more than a few other women glancing around. We weren’t the only ones wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into.
“We welcome your spirit among us,” Sabine continued.
“We walk in your presence,” the woman in red added. She bent, unwrapping the cord that bound her wrists, and dropped it to the ground. But it wasn’t a cord at all. It hit the stone with a hiss that made my stomach fall along with it.
“Oh hell no,” I said as the snake began to slither across the floor.
The familiars parted, lifting skirts and looking around, panicked.
But there was nowhere to go. Vampires were blocking the stairs, and there were no windows. Sabine called out in a calming voice, “Men have made the serpent your enemy with their lies. You have been taught to fear it, but it only seeks to give pleasure. All of you here know the exquisite pleasure of the flesh. Damia teaches us to embrace that pleasure. Pleasure is power. Pleasure is feminine. Pleasure is the seed that will bear beautiful fruit. The snake is her servant, and it will not harm you. It seeks only to deliver its offering.”
“We walk with it to remember that we are the power in this world,” the woman in red continued. “Our bloodlines endure. Our fruit prospers. Damia embraces us and blesses us. She ripens our wombs and prepares them to receive our protector’s seed.”
Quinn giggled breathlessly, and I elbowed her in the side. I couldn’t exactly blame her. It was a bit over the top.
“And tonight, we will offer Damia our blood in appreciation for her gifts. A single drop from each of you, that we might continue to receive her blessings.”
Despite Sabine’s reassurances about the snake, several women continued to move out of its path as Sabine spoke.
“Fear has no place in pleasure,” she cried out to them. “The serpent is a friend to all that know its embrace. Show your courage, and be found worthy. A familiar must never fear the fangs. Tonight, it will not touch the daughters of Damia. You have prepared yourself for your place at her side.”
“So the snake is a vampire? Am I getting the symbolism right?” Quinn asked.
But I barely heard her because my heart began to pound so hard that it sent blood roaring through my veins. All I could see was the snake moving through the crowd. I didn’t care what it symbolized. I cared what it was looking for.
“Thea,” Quinn said quietly, “you look terrified. You heard what she said. The snake won’t touch any of us.”
“Unless–”
Before I could finish the thought, the women behind Sabine cried out in unison: “We welcome your spirit among us. We walk in your presence.”
Raising their baskets, they emptied them, spilling more snakes onto the stairs. Sabine smiled as she lowered her cornucopia, and serpents began to spill from it. They uncoiled like black ropes, crisscrossing each other as they spread across the dank rooms.
“Damia.” Sabine lifted her head and bellowed, “We embrace you. We offer our faith without fear. Bless us in the first Rite.”
“This just got so much worse,” Quinn said, sounding completely freaked out. But she didn’t move. None of the familiars moved. This was the test.
One I wasn’t going to pass.
“Damia calls you forth.” Sabine removed her gloves and handed them to a woman behind her. Another passed her a silver chalice. “You are found worthy. Come to–”
Gasps from the crowd cut her off, and she fell silent as the snakes all began to move together, forming a thick line of writhing darkness. Serpents slithered around the feet of familiars, moving to join the others in a black parade. A few women looked like they might pass out, but it soon became clear the snakes were banding together, as if herded by some invisible force.
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered as they slithered closer and closer. The first serpent, the one the woman in red had released, reached my feet. It took every ounce of restraint I possessed not to move as it began to climb my skirt. The rest joined it, forcing Quinn to move away as the snakes encircled me like a wreath. A moment later, the first one slithered up my stomach past my breasts and slowly made its way to my neck. Its scales scraped across my bare skin, and I felt acid rise into my throat. It coiled around my neck and rested its head against my throat.
I didn’t dare move. Sabine had said the snakes wouldn’t touch the daughters of Damia. I hoped she was just talking about witches, but the sinking feeling inside me knew it was so much worse than that.
Everyone had fallen silent, but now whispers began again. If I weren’t the talk of the party before, I would be now. Sabine, who had stayed utterly still, snapped back into action. Depositing the chalice into her companion’s hands, she swept down the steps and marched toward me. The snakes that circled me parted for her. She stepped closer and plucked the snake from my throat. It unwrapped itself into her hands, and she tossed it to the ground.
“Well, well.” Her blue eyes flashed like lightning in the dark. “It seems one of us doesn’t belong here.”
We glared at each other.
“I think you already knew that,” I said.
“Quiet, vestal.” Her voice was a deadly whisper meant only for my ears. She lifted her voice and addressed the group. “The Rite will continue. Sister Agnes will accept your offerings to Damia, and then we will proceed to the upper rooms for entertainment and conversation.”
