Infernal Town

"In the middle of town?" Brenda Carville asked, leaning over the Mayor's desk and giving him a view of her cleavage. She had carefully undone buttons on her blouse, and her pale blue suit jacket gaped. It was one of her best moves. "Why didn't you stop them?"

Mayor Rhoden shrugged, while looking right where Brenda had intended. "What could I do? They'd sue me for discrimination."

"Eyes up here," Brenda said, hypocritically. "How about zoning!"

"You can't zone a place to not have churches, Brenda."

"Why not?"

"Freedom of Religion? I don't know. You know I'd like to make you happy if I could."

Brenda frowned. "The Ladies Auxiliary will be most upset." The Ladies Auxiliary wasn't, in fact, the auxiliary of anything. It had gotten the name in the 1930s, after prohibition had made the Women's Temperance Union so unpopular. There had been a Men's something or other, formed by a few of the WTU's husbands, but it hadn't survived the second world war, and no one remembered it.

The sweat broke out on the Mayor's forehead.

"Also," Brenda said, "I'm afraid you won't be getting your special treat this month." She buttoned up her blouse.

"But Brenda!"

"Mrs. Carville to you," Brenda corrected. "Don't think you've heard the last of this. We're going to do something about it, even if you don't have the spine. What's it called again?"

"The Church of the Infernal Angels. They have dozens of churches. Temples, I think they call them."

"And what do they call their, er, clergy?"

"Priestesses."

"No Priests?"

The Mayor shook his head. "Female empowerment, eh?"

Brenda smiled. Female empowerment, to Brenda's mind, was a very good thing. It was different from feminism, which she would tell anyone she wanted no part of. Feminism, to Brenda's mind, was the idea that women could be equal to men. Female empowerment, on the other hand, was the fact that a smart woman could twist any man around her little finger with a little sex appeal and the knowledge of when to give and when to withhold, which was far better than any equality.

She realized she might seem to be smiling about demon worshippers and quickly wiped the grin off her face. She was not a particularly religious woman, and she thought in her own way she was quite forward looking. She had embraced texting, selfies, and even AI photo editing. Did lovely things with the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. None of these were a threat to social order, an order that in Liberty County had always meant the Carvilles and the Daltons were on top. She had been born a Dalton, before marrying Sam Carville. Rhoden was a Dalton by marriage, his wife being Brenda's cousin. Carvilles and Daltons were Methodists. Whether they went to church or not. The only other religion in town, until now, was Catholicism, but that was for Hispanics and the Irish.

"Give me the address," she said.

"It's where Eileen's Fashions used to be. Before that, Jensen's Grocery."

She nodded. "I remember Jensen's. He just couldn't compete with the KingMart, could he?"

The mayor shook his head. "People like buying local, but they like buying cheap more. Shame, really. I used to drop by for something on the way home from work, but that was what, twenty years ago? Nowadays you have to drive out of town to get your groceries."

Brenda waved her hand. "Doesn't matter. Nowadays, they deliver. Haven't been in a grocery store in at least two months. Not since I ran out of -" She stopped. It was none of the mayor's business whether she ate ice cream or not. A woman needed a little treat now and then to keep her curves.

She left the mayor's office and drove her car out of the little parking lot behind city hall and out onto Main Street. She was going to check out the satanic temple for herself. It was only four blocks, but her high heels (sky blue, to match her jacket and skirt, naturally) were not made for walking. The town library was right across the street, so the lot behind it was a good place to park. You couldn't get good street parking on Main Street, which was one tight lane in each direction, and predated the motor car.

It was easiest, and more air-conditioned, to walk through the library rather than around it. The librarian, Wanda Gonzales, was a very pretty girl, if you liked brown skin and black hair. Of course Wanda could dye the hair, but blonde wouldn't look right on the librarian the way it did on Brenda.

There was no one at the desk, so Brenda strolled over.

"What do you make of your new neighbor?" Brenda asked.

"Hmm?" Wanda said.

"Across the street. The so-called Church of the Infernal Angels."

"Ah." Wanda said. "Well, I saw their priestess. She seemed friendly enough. Of course it was probably a professional smile, the way priests do."

Ah, right. Brenda had never seen Wanda in church, even on Easter, and with a name like Gonzales she was probably Catholic. "And ministers," Brenda said. And gave Wanda a smile that was much the same, even though she was not clergy.

"Clergy, then. A clerical smile."

Brenda reached a decision. "I'd like all the books you have on demons," she said.

"All? That's hundreds of books. I'm afraid the check out limit is twenty."

"Hundreds? You have hundreds of books on demons?"

"Well, mostly romances," she said. "They are very hot right now. Very hot in more ways than one." Wanda mimed fanning herself. "Hotter than vampires. Although there's a few about vampire demons."

Brenda frowned. "Cananyonecheck those out?" she asked.

"Well, sure. Anyone can check anything out."

"They don't sound, well, age-appropriate."

Wanda shrugged. "Depends on the age. But don't worry, Mrs. Carville. They are a little bit spicy, but no more so than the romances we've had for years."

Brenda had checked out some of those romances herself, and wasn't entirely sure that was reassuring. She could remember masturbating while reading a Susan Johnson book when she was 18. Of course she always said she liked them for the meticulous historical research. "Anyway, just the non-fiction, then."

Wanda smiled a professional librarian smile, and nodded. "Right this way, Mrs. Carville."

There were about a dozen of them. Wanda was about to leave, when Brenda quickly handed her one of the books. "This one looks.... Well, like it's very pro-demon."

"We like to have a variety of viewpoints," Wanda said, mildly.

"Which of these is anti-demon?" Brenda asked.

"Well, none of them. There are a few that are from religious points of view, of course, in the religion section. They are sometimes more negative."

"Why don't you have negative books right here with the others, if you're into different points of view?"

"Well, there are limits. We don't have racist books right next to the books on civil rights, either."

"You have racist books?" Brenda was shocked.

"Hard to avoid it in the fiction section, if one is going to have older books especially."

"Oh. Well, I hardly think it's the same thing." She put another book on top of the one she'd given Wanda. "I'll take this one. In fact, I'll take them all." She started piling up the books, and Wanda, who hadn't expected that, had to struggle not to drop any.

"I think," Wanda said diplomatically, "That given our new neighbor, there might be an upsurge of interest in these books. Perhaps..."

"Exactly what I'm worried about," Brenda said, heading back to the desk, and leaving Wanda carrying the books behind her. When they both got to the desk and Wanda started checking them out to her, Brenda said, "Maybe one of the romances, too," she said.

Wanda waved toward the romance section. "Over there. You won't be able to miss them."

"Aren't you supposed to walk me to the shelves?"

"Not while I'm checking out your books. They are alphabetical by author."

"Any particular author you'd recommend?"

"Try one by Sister Voluptua. Under V."

Brenda found one. It had a very large red demon, with spiraling horns, bare-chested, in a clinch with a woman who, if she was let go, was about to become bare-chested herself given that there was nothing supporting the sheet that was draped around her figure. Brenda took it. "For research," Brenda told herself. "To find out what sort of thing people are reading these days." Even she had to admit the demon looked very handsome on the cover.

She had to take the books back to her car, which meant more walking. When she passed Wanda on the way back from the romance shelves, the librarian seemed very busy with paperwork, and didn't make eye contact.

Brenda kept going and walked across the street. Not much had changed, although the windows had been lined with black paper so you couldn't see in. You could still see where "Eileen's Fashions" had been painted in gold on the glass, although it was mostly scraped off. A printed sheet of letter-sized paper stuck to the door said, "Church of the Infernal Angels" in the sort of ornate font one might use for a wedding invitation. It had a picture of a large demon, not unlike the one on the romance cover, standing tall like he was Conan the Barbarian or something. To his sides were a woman and a man, kneeling and clinging to his legs. They were clothed. If Brenda hadn't had Sister Voluptua's romance to compare it to, she would have been more offended.

She tried the door. It was unlocked.

The place was pretty empty. A bunch of folding chairs, the nice kind with padded seats, were arranged in a semi-circle. More were on carts up against the wall. There was a big desk or table, made of walnut, toward the front, but no chairs around it, and a little lectern to the left of that. Otherwise, it was so bare that it seemed to Brenda that there was space for the ghosts of dresses, and perhaps apples and pears.

The walls had been painted red, with black trim.

A woman in a little black dress was putting up a poster on the far wall. Brenda spotted a glimpse of red skin on the poster, but before it was in place the woman stopped what she was doing and turned around. She smiled a clerical smile.

Not that the woman looked like any clergy she'd ever seen. Her hair was even darker than Wanda's, and her skin was pale. There was a lot of skin on display, because her short dress had a deep V neck that nearly went to her navel, and revealed as much of the woman's large breasts as they concealed. There was some sort of tattoo on her left breast.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to the Shadow Creek Church of the Infernal Angels. I'm Devoted."

"Devoted to what, that's what I'd like to know," Brenda said.

"To our infernal masters, of course," the woman said. " She walked over to Brenda, still smiling. "Do you, too, feel the call to serve?"

"What's your name?" Brenda asked. She took a closer look at the priestess' tattoo. It was a picture of a demon, not the little demon symbol that was just a circle with horns, but something more realistic than that. The demon was naked, lounging, its male member erect and jutting improbably high. No one was that big, thought Brenda. It wouldn't fit.

"Devoted. Priestess Devoted, if you like, but we don't have to be formal."

"No one calls their child that," Brenda said. Or Voluptua.

"Nor did mine. What's your name?"

"My name is Brenda Carville."

"Welcome, Bren -"

"Mrs. Carville, to you."

The smile was freezing on Devoted's face. "Mrs. Carville. How may I help you?"

"By getting the hell out of town," Brenda told her.

Devoted quit smiling. "No, Mrs. Carville. I'm called upon to do some most infernal work here."

"Not in my town, you don't."

"Oh," Devoted said, "You're the mayor?"

Brenda got the feeling that the woman knew she wasn't. "No. I lead the Ladies' Auxiliary."

"Auxiliary of what?" Devoted asked.

"Never mind that," Brenda said shortly, with the annoyance of one confronting a familiar but irritating question. "The Auxiliary has a long and glorious history."

"Really? Tell me."

"That's not important now," Brenda said. "You won't find anyone in this town who is interested in worshipping demons."

"Well," she said. "Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? Our meetings are Saturday afternoon. Two o'clock. So as not to interfere with any other religious meetings."

"Your tattoo is obscene," Brenda said.

"I don't think bodies are obscene," Devoted said. "We are the way Sa - the way we were made."

"No one was made with such a ridiculous, unrealistically large red, red, red, phallus."

"Unrealistic phallus?" Devoted asked, looking down at her pale breasts, and the ink. "You mean his big red cock."

"You know what I mean. It's absurd."

"Oh, I assure you, It's most realistic. Demon cocks are generally about a foot long. Tasty, too. Many women orgasm merely from getting to suck on them, or tasting their pre-cum. To be penetrated by their infernal scepters is to be transported to ecstasy that no human cock can possibly provide."

Brenda stared. "You've had congress with a demon, yourself?"

"Congress?" Devoted chuckled. "You mean sex? Of course. Many times. Although not as many times as I'd like."

"You little slut. You're proud of it?"

"Absolutely," Devoted told her. "Those were the most ecstatic experiences of my life. But what I am even prouder of is that I was able to please the demons I was with and make them baptize me with their infernal seed."

Brenda shook her head. "We don't need that sort of woman here," she said firmly. They already had Melba. The town didn't need two whores.

"You needn't worry. I'm demon cock only. I have a tattoo that says so."

"Where?" Brenda asked.

"Would you like me to show you?" Devoted asked, mischievously, reaching for the hem of her black dress.

"No!" Brenda said quickly.

Devoted grinned. "It's just us girls here. I can lock the door. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I don't have a tattoo."

Devoted just arched her eyebrows.

Brenda glared and stalked out.

Brenda walked out of the "temple" feeling irritated. She was used to getting her way. She manipulated men with her body, and the women in town were eager to have the approval of the head of the Ladies' Auxiliary. The members were loyal; the non-members hoped to join. But she had not been about to dangle membership in front of that Satan-worshipping trollop with the ridiculous fake name. Probably fake tits, too, thought Brenda condescendingly, not that she herself hadn't had a little surgical help.

There was a difference, too, between arranging to display one's cleavage, accidentally-like, and strategically, and wearing clothes that just pushed one's charms right out there, obscenely tattooed charms at that. No, Devoted was no lady. Having her in the auxiliary would be like inviting Melba. Ridiculous.

Not that Melba didn't serve an important function. If a man had to stray, it was better he do it on a cash basis, with no emotions or anything involved.

Brenda turned her mind to a happier thought: The Jamisons. Now that was a nice couple. She walked through the library again, got in her car, and headed their way. Very few of the residents of Shadow Creek lived "in town." Most lived in detached homes with big lawns, down various windy roads that curved as the rolling hills directed them. Brenda drove down one of those roads now. Rudolph Road had memories for her, as there was once a turnoff where she had lost her virginity to Vincent Carville. She had never told Sam about the tryst with his older brother, nor about the annual repeat performance that was ostensibly a bribe to Vincent to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't being blackmailed, not really, if the payment method was so pleasurable. Besides, Vincent didn't want the secret to come out any more than she did. Brenda liked to believe she was not the kind of person who would ever give into blackmail.

Now the turn off was the lawn of another detached house. The daughter of the family that lived there, nineteen years old, was pregnant.Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

She continued on to the Jamisons'. The white picket fence formed an interesting contrast to the black and reds of the temple, she thought. She parked in front of the two-car garage, and adjusted her buttons. A little cleavage, she decided. Mark Jamison was kind of hot, and Louise Jamison didn't seem to be overly jealous. Brenda believed firmly that a little extra-curricular activity, especially if discreet, was good for a marriage. She did not know whether Sam thought she was faithful or not, but if he did, he was an idiot. Sauce for the goose, and all that. Was that a French saying, too? It seemed like it should be, but she only knew it in English. She had taken French in high school and college, although she didn't actually know any French people to talk to so she was ratherrouillé.

She got the Tupperware container of chocolate-chip cookies out of the backseat and went to knock on the Jamisons' door.

#

Wanda locked the doors of the library at six o'clock and crossed the street. Once she was across, she looked both ways even more carefully than when she crossed. Joe Brown was on the corner, sitting up against a wall, drinking some Wild Irish Rose. She would risk Joe Brown. Neither his eyesight nor his memory were that good, and people tended not to believe what he said, anyway. But Ginger and Saffy Harwell were also approaching, so Wanda turned right. She could always say she was going to the bank, that way.

Ginger was a middle-aged woman, with freckles and red hair turning gray in places. She was on the City Council. Saffy, her daughter, was strawberry-blonde, attractive, and going to the local community college. They were frequent visitors to the library. One thing about a small town, you couldn't do much without rumors being spread, and if it wasn't quite the case that everyone knew everyone, they nonetheless knew a fair percentage of everyone. One could generally play two degrees of separation, not six, with anyone.

"Hi Ginger. Hi Saffy," Wanda said. "Did you like those mysteries you got?"

"I did," Saffy said. Saffy had also checked out a few romances, but Wanda suspected that her mother would have approved of the mysteries more. Which was silly, because Ginger read romances, although not the demon variety that were so popular these days, especially with young people like Saffy.

"Mysteries are so good for young people," Ginger said. "Makes them think."

"These ones have a lot of anthropology in them too, Mom," Sally said. "Aaron Elkins. Maybe you should read them too, before I return them."

"They aren't - indecent, are they?"

"Oh, there's a married couple, and they definitely like each other, but... there's nothing at all graphic."

Ginger smiled.

Wanda kept walking. She waited for them to get a half-block away, and then pivoted, walking back the way she came, keeping an eye on the Harwell's to make sure they didn't turn around. She could always pretend she forgot something at work.

She tried the door to the Church of the Infernal Angels, but it was locked. She glanced up and down the street, decided she was still safe, and knocked.

A few long seconds later a woman in a very revealing black cocktail dress opened the door.

Devoted introduced herself, and smiled.

"I'm Wanda. I'm the librarian. We're across the street. May I come in?"

"Of course," Devoted said, and ushered Wanda inside. She looked both ways again before entering.

"I'm curious about what you're doing here," Wanda said. "And I suppose everyone is curious about, er, infernals. Do you have a moment to talk?"

#

"Mrs. Carville!" exclaimed Louise Jamison. Louise was gorgeous, a tall girl with high, firm breasts and long, flowing red hair. Thirty or so, thought Brenda. She had on a beige skirt that came nearly to her knees, and a yellow blouse that had a few buttons open just like Brenda's.