POSSESSION by TB's LMC RATED FRT

Belah Gaat has chased International Rescue's secrets from Day One. But there is more to this criminal than meets the eye. Witness secrets from within the walls of his temple, in a terrifying marriage of human flesh...and inhuman Evil.

"She has arrived, Master."

The man smiled faintly. The time had come. He lived for this ritual, for the pleasure it brought him each cycle, for the chance to once more unite with his beloved Ombakte. He rose from a large chair made of solid gold, lined with the finest red velvet. His legs were clad in black cloth that clung tightly to their chiseled form. His arms, chest and abdomen were bare, showing well-formed muscles.

His strong, square jaw set firmly, the man exited his rooms and walked down the hall, thick, plush carpet swathing every barefooted step. This was a man used to being in control at all times. Control of his actions, control of his thoughts, control of his emotions and control of his mind. He was in control of his destiny.

Yet these matings with the demon, they were rare times when he allowed himself to lose that control. Were he to be honest with himself, he would admit there was no allowance to it. Once Ombakte entered his body, Ombakte owned him...body, mind and soul. Only Chhaya, the Shadow, high priestess of those who dwelt like prisoners in the light of darkness, could control Ombakte and those lesser demons that would come for others this night.

The heat and humidity so typical of a night deep within the Malaysian jungle seemed to disappear as he entered a large, cavernous room. Torches lit his way, and already he could hear Chhaya's low, hypnotic voice as her prayers began. A chill permeated the air. He neared his destination, a chamber at the far side of the great hall. He gave nary a thought to the dais hidden behind a beaded curtain to his left. Great bronze and golden statues seemed to draw no interest. His sights were set on one thing and one thing only. And that lay only a few more steps ahead.

The chamber, rectangular in shape and more dimly lit than the rest of the temple, was also about twenty degrees colder. A light breeze picked up as he entered, but he knew it was not just the wind. It caressed him almost lovingly, as though greeting an old friend after a long separation. Smaller torches lined the walls of this dark place, this center of Hell when the cycle permitted. Eight naked men and women knelt before Chhaya at the head of the room. Their voices joined hers both in word and in pitch.

This sacred chant, this summons to Ombakte and her children, it was a sound rivaled by nothing in the man's world. For he knew that soon she would arrive. Her children were here, swirling through the air, wisps of smoke to most...harbingers of exquisite pleasure to him. He strode confidently to the front of the room, but remained behind the line of exposed flesh that prayed to the demons with their priestess.

In spite of the icy cold surrounding him, the man began to feel the soft touch of heat, first upon his left shoulder and arm, then circling around his back to his right shoulder and arm. It moved to his chest and seemed to slither upwards until it coiled around his neck. He closed his eyes, a wicked smile forming upon his face. For she had come. Ombakte had come.

Trembling in anticipation, he allowed his mind free of its confines, inviting her to unite with him once more. He took a deep breath and the smell of jasmine mixed with a myriad of other spices and flowers filtered through him, filling him with sweet desire. He could faintly hear delicate chimes tinkling from beyond the chamber as flickering light and shadows played across his smooth, bald head. Mouth curled into what seemed a grimace, he allowed his own bass tones to join the song of his brethren.

He was beckoning her, calling her, his forsaken soul opening wide to seduce her, to charm Ombakte into his mind, and into his magnificent body. He kept himself as a temple to her and her alone. She was here, and she was his...if only for this moment.

The voices rose in pitch, and then erupted into shrieks and wails. The man knew Ombakte's children had taken the others. Chhaya's voice remained a steady beat in his mind, lulling him into that twilight region halfway between sleep and wake, between dark and light, between here and beyond. He felt her as he felt his own pulse, his heart racing in anticipation of what he knew was soon to be forthcoming. His body cried out for the fiend and his voice followed, urgently begging her to take him.

Suddenly she entered him, the force of possession sending him staggering backward. Jolts of energy seared through his body, piercing every organ, every system, every cell with the dark energy that was her. He welcomed her, welcomed the pain, embraced her as he would a long-lost lover. A damned man, cursed to spend all of eternity roaming the bowels of Hell with her by his side, stood here and now entranced, taken by something so hideously beautiful, so forbidden in its erotic sensuality.

Every nerve was alive, every pore erupted fire. His vision blurred, and he closed his eyelids over dark, glittering onyx eyes that looked now beyond the world in which his earthly body dwelt, beyond the confines of time and space into the Great Void, a place where he could exist within and without.

Conscious thought had fled, subconscious thought barely able to record the experience as he felt her moving through his body, like fingers massaging every cell, every artery and capillary, filling empty space with her spirit, her madness, her call to obscurity. For when she possessed him, the man ceased to exist. He was no more. Now he belonged to her. He became her.

He could hear her calling to him in his mind and he responded, his sweat-soaked body swaying as the heat generated within his head poured down through his neck, down into his chest, radiating out into his arms, to the tips of his fingers. It drew further down, twisting and churning his gut in agonizing foreshadowing of that which he would forever feel when at last this plane of existence came to its shattered end.

Writhing in inexplicable ecstasy, the man moaned as silky soft air swirled around his legs. His body thus invaded, nearly ready to explode, he reached that place experienced by no one yet dreamed of by all. A blinding light flashed before his eyes as a jab of pain shot through his head. Somewhere deep within his body, an explosion occurred the likes of which felt as though it may tear him apart, bursting him from the inside out. His body shuddered helplessly as sweat poured down his head, running rivers over flawless skin.

Before he knew what was happening, the cold began to creep back to him, and he shivered as it touched the dampness of his skin. He felt her pulling away, and realized Chhaya's hand was upon his pate, ordering Ombakte to take her leave. Every cell of his being cried out. He did not want her to depart, he yearned for her to remain, but to do so would mean certain death. If she did not leave him now, she would kill him, for she had the strength and will to do it, and surely would see it made so.

With a great cry, the Mistress Demon escaped, raising the man off his feet into the air, where he levitated for mere seconds before dropping to the floor in a heap of bones and flesh, his knees, hands and head resting on its cool stone surface. Her departure left him weak and dazed, confused and alone. In his vulnerability his body shook with such force he could not bring his limbs to function, nor his mind to process thought. In this moment, this one moment in time where his guarded soul lay bare to all, the leftover one-time human being who lay buried hopelessly trapped within the steely exterior known by every living creature he encountered, could be seen at last.

For as cold and evil as he appeared in existence upon this plane, so now did he find himself at a loss to hide the viscera of his blackened soul from those who would see, torn between dimensions, struggling for dominance over the weakness he hated yet welcomed each time Ombakte filled him with her essence. Beneath it all, hidden away from reality, there existed a man. A man no one ever would...ever could...see.

As his breathing returned to normal, his eyes opened to find the chamber deserted. Chest heaving, he rose unsteadily to his feet, the glow of satisfaction exuding from his eyes. The walls began building themselves up, ready to shove the shriveled remains of his humanity back into the recesses of who he'd come to be. His mind contained only one thought as the doors snapped back into place with almost audible clicks. The strength he drew from this union would, one day, win the battle he had fought for so long...the battle to destroy International Rescue.