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I look up at him with wide eyes. “What did you do…”
“I made you mine,” he smiles, so tenderly I find it hard to be mad at him. I knew he wasn’t wearing a condom. I didn’t tell him not to come in me. I didn’t say anything. I laid back and let him fuck me, and now I am absolutely brimming with virile seed.
“You made a baby. Idiot.”
“I absolutely did not, moron.”
I burst out laughing, mostly in shock. “What!?”
“I had a vasectomy as soon as I could. My line of work does not provide any time for rearing offspring. The Brotherhood retires any of its members who have children.”
“And if I wanted children?”
“Your single lifestyle and virginity suggest they might not be a priority.”
“Or I was saving myself for marriage, to then bear fruit.”
He looks uncomfortable as I quote bible-ish stuff at him.
“That might be something we discuss later,” he says.
“Just kidding. Look at your face!” I laugh. I don’t want kids. I can barely handle myself most of the time and being a career driven woman means knowing full well I won’t be given any promotions in my company if I go off and get pregnant. I’ve never really seriously considered a relationship, let alone a baby.
“Come,” Cosmos says, handing me my filthy clothes. “We need to get out of here.”
I do not want to put them on again, but I also don’t want to be taken out of here naked and dripping his seed, and I have a feeling that would very much be on his agenda if he could put it on the agenda. He’s a twisted soul in a beautiful body — and I just gave myself to him.
2
I am dressed again, such as you can consider this dressed. My discomfort putting my clothing on must be obvious.
“We can change your clothes at our next stop,” Cosmos says. “And have a shower. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
I have to trust him, because not trusting him means I just let someone I don’t know, or trust, take me through a marriage ceremony and take my virginity besides. This has been a night of madness, and I don’t know how I will ever become sane again.
I am sensible enough to know this is not how marriage works. You can’t trick someone into saying I do in front of a priest and call that a wedding. There’s paperwork to be done, there are forms to be signed, and…
I let out a squeal as Cosmos sweeps me up into his arms. He carries me out of our dark love chamber, back down the aisle, and tucks me back into the van.
“Lucky we got that done,” he says, putting my seatbelt on again. “That could have been dangerous.”
He’s referring to having gotten my virginity done. Or maybe the ‘marriage,’ such as it was. With the cool night air and the return to the less than comfortable van, sense is beginning to return. The post-coital afterglow is fading, and I realize that I just don’t understand what’s happening, at all.
“What is happening?” Those three words cover a multitude of questions.
“Well, dear wife, what is happening is I just saved you from an ancient Germanic cult of blood hunters who seek the angel blood that runs in your veins.”
He’s delusional. I’ve been kidnapped by a madman. I’d think he was a complete and utter liar if not for the fact I am still bleeding from the attacker who turned my world upside down not long ago.
I stare at him, wondering if I am mad too, or if it was just the trauma and relief of surviving the brutal attack that made me submit to his desire and impulsively give him the one thing I saved for so long.
In the distance, the sun is starting to rise. Reality asserts itself with the golden glow over Heidelberg Palace. I remember that I have a life, a real life, and real responsibilities. I can’t sit around in my pajamas bleeding in vans. I have to go and decant the samples I prepared yesterday.
“I’m going to be late for work!”
“You’re not going to go to work,” he says gently. “I’m taking you back to England, where I can continue to safeguard you. Your marriage to me makes you safer, but there are some who do not respect the bounds of holy matrimony.”
I look at him, this rakish madman, and I attempt to formulate some set of words that might make him realize how crazy this all really is.
“Okay. Well. First. There are no such things as angels, or demons,” I explain in the calmest tone possible. “Those are just stories people tell each other because they’re afraid of death. You have to understand, we know what the universe is made from, and it is atoms, not demons.”
