Her Alien Priest by Michele Mills
Lorelei
The next day I hear a commotion in the front courtyard.
I frown because I’m in the middle of reading another really good book. I glance over at Cabal. “What’s going on out there?” I ask rhetorically. He can’t answer me, but I still continue with the questions. I can’t help it.
He lifts his head and gives me a rueful smile. His black horns gleam in the morning light. I bite my lip because Cabal’s smiles are rare, and they cause his features to transform from terrible to heart-stoppingly handsome. He carefully places down his quill and wipes ink off his claws. He’s so strong, smart and studious, I can’t handle it. It’s strange how close we’ve become in such a short time. I desperately wish we could sleep together each night with our naked bodies entwined after sessions of sweaty sex.
But it’s not meant to be.
Last night I pushed him away when he tried to kiss me. As a result, breakfast was awkward this morning, but we soon settled into a comfortable rhythm of pretending it never happened. I think he’s just not used to living with an unmated female this long and he lost his head for a moment. But my job is to keep him on track and focused on his vows. The High Priest is a strong, virile male in his prime and I’m certain I could be switched out for any other unmated female trainee, nun or even a pilgrim and he’d be tempted. I wish the order would come and take me to the nunnery. I will be heartbroken and cry every day for probably a whole year at his loss—but this is how much I care for him. I want him to succeed, even if it means I have to leave so he can remain focused. I told him I would not defile him, and I meant it.
The fact remains that the High Priest of Westmore has taken vows of silence and celibacy. It kills me that I don’t know why or for how long.
Each morning I gaze out my bedroom window and my blood boils with unrequited lust—Cabal stands in the outdoor shower with water sluicing down his powerful, naked body, in all his red-muscled glory. I press right up against the windowpane, getting as close as possible. I lick my lips and stare hungrily at his heavy red cock that juts in front of him and bounces as he moves. His ass is utter perfection. His thighs are so very thick and strong. He looks like he was crafted to my specifications for the perfect male. The horns on his head and the tail that erupts from the base of his spine are edgy and dangerous, which serves to multiply his extreme sexiness. Whenever he turns toward my window I dart to the side, trying to avoid letting him see that I watch him without permission. Jeez, I’m a mess. No wonder I was banished. I’m starting to think I deserved it.
Yes, I dream of being his mate. But I refuse to take advantage of this proud male who’s lived in isolation for so long he probably craves touch even more than I do. I have to help him instead of being a hindrance to his goals. The lust between us is epic and I care for him greatly, but is it worth ruining his honor over? No.
Loud voices float in through the open window. Cabal and I both stand and look outside. A bus is parked in the courtyard and a large group of Green-horns disembark. Cabal lets out a deep sigh of resignation, grabs my hand and pulls me downstairs to greet our guests.
I’m not really sure what to do, so I decide to treat these pilgrims how I would want to be treated if I showed up here unexpectedly. Which, um, is exactly how I arrived, and Cabal was super welcoming. I vividly remember how good that felt. I want to give that same gift to these strangers. A pilgrimage to Salo is a fabulous once-in-a-lifetime trip. All practitioners of the multigod religion are charged with arriving here once in their lives. These beings probably saved currency their whole lives for this one moment. I have to help make it good for them.
We step outside and the bus pulls away, leaving behind a group of older, green-skinned beings with black horns, milling about. First, they see Cabal. One of the females covers her mouth, trying to smother a scream. A male places his arm protectively around her shoulder. They all look very, very nervous. Cabal does look very formidable and imposing, and I’m used to him! He tries hard to allay their fears. His fire and smoke are banked, and his tail is low and almost hidden. He smiles, without a flash of fangs or forked tongue, and walks forward slowly, gently reaching out and shaking each of their hands.
I force my nervousness away and step out from behind him and greet our visitors too. They see me and yell with delight, “Oh, thank gods! The rumors are true. There’s a human nun here who speaks through a universal translator.”
I blink. What?
“Well, yes, I have been given a translator,” I tell them, pointing at Cabal. “You’ve already met Cabal Firestone, the High Priest of Westmore. And my name is Lorelei Hastings and I’m from New Earth. I’m a human trainee who has been temporarily placed here. High Priest Firestone is my teacher and mentor. It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to the Westmore Monastery.”
They eagerly crowd around me and I’m shaking everyone’s hands too and learning their names. They call me “Trainee Hastings,” which is so cute. I love it. I guess I really do want to become a nun someday. I glance over at Cabal’s profile, secretly wishing I could become Lorelei Firestone, the Nun of Westmore. But I keep all those profane thoughts to myself. It isn’t happening, so why torture myself with it?
I’ll have to pray harder today, asking the gods how I can best support Cabal.
Cabal welcomes the pilgrims inside and shows them to their cells. Then he gives them a tour of the grounds and then the inside of the monastery.
Fortunately, I read all those biographies of the multigods and I’ve been reading some of the ancient text he wanted me to learn. When Cabal gives the group a tour of the monastery, I’m able to provide a commentary for our guests and answer a large amount of their questions.
He lets the group move past us up the stairs and stops and grins down at me. I love it that I seem to be the only one who coaxes this response from him. He reaches out and brushes a strand of my hair from my face and back over my ear. There’s a look on his harsh face I’ve never seen before. I’m not sure what it means.
We enter the library and end up spending hours there, giving anyone who wants a demonstration and instruction on how to write in the ancient language, on parchment, with their own quill and ink. This is a hit. And others in the group put on gloves and carefully thumb through ancient print books on the shelves to their hearts’ content.
It’s really a lovely afternoon. It’s the most fun I’ve had, ever. And the best part is I’m working alongside Cabal. And I think he’s pleased that the pilgrims are able to learn so much more with me there to “translate.”
Cabal breaks to perform absolutions with the pilgrims. I perform the hymnals. We cook for them and feed them in the refectory using our rustic methods which they find charming. They’ve brought lots of food to help out with supplies. Bread, noodles, desserts, fruits, wine, ale…an eye-popping number of delicacies. I soon begin to realize I love it when the pilgrims arrive. I end up eating until I think my stomach might burst. It’s all so good.
I end up washing dishes at the back pump with one of the females. “The High Priest is doing so good keeping his vows,” she mentions. “It must be so hard for him to remain silent when he has so many visitors, but he still manages.”
I nod and blow hair off my forehead as I tackle another dish, “I can’t believe how good he’s doing too. And I have no idea how long he’s been tackling these difficult vows or why. I wish I knew.”
“Oh, you don’t know?”
“No,” I answer. “I mean, he can’t talk or even give me written communication so… And you’re the first pilgrims I’ve met. I’ve only been on Salo for a few diurnals. I’m new.”
The Green-horn female nods, pumps more water for us, then leans in close and lowers her voice. “They told me this at the last stop. Cabal Firestone took on the ancient vows of silence and celibacy for a five-year period as a way to convince the Cardinal of Salo that the monastery of Westmore was worth saving. This place is a ruin that’s actually kind of far off the normal route and beings tend to bypass it. Each monastery has a famous patron god, but no one really knows which of the multigods created Westmore. Because there’s dispute on the origins and who the patron is, it’s been left to ruin. But I heard High Priest Firestone thinks this place is important and that there’s something the rest of us are missing. The Cardinal was charmed with Cabal Firestone’s grit and passion for this project, so she challenged him to prove his dedication with the completion of a vow of denial. No Priest or Nun has managed to complete a vow of this difficulty since ancient times, but he took the vow on the altar of Minos. We are all cheering him on. Everyone fears the Monster of Mount Westmore, but at the same time we also respect him as maybe the most pious priest on the entire route.”
I laugh, “Monster? Everyone calls him a monster?”
“Sorry, it’s true. He’s been here for four years already so I guess he’s got one year left of his vows. Despite how much he’s respected for his knowledge, he gets very few visitors here because he’s scary and took a vow of silence.” She shrugs. “It means only the truly dedicated take the time to come out here to learn from him. But we heard that a human nun was here too who had a universal translator so we decided to take a detour and add this to our route. We’re so happy we did. I just want to warn you, you might have a lot more pilgrims in the future. There was a lot of talk at the last monastery about Westmore; lots of travelers changing their schedules to add this stopover. You really do have a marvelous altar and that library is spectacular. Even though the patron god is unknown and this place is certainly a crumbling wreck, that library is worth the trip. I’ll never forget being able to spend time among such a rare collection. And your hymnals are spectacular.”
Right then Cabal and two Green-horn males join us and we change the subject. I act like nothing is wrong and smile at all the appropriate moments, but my mind is full of this new information. Finally, I’m able to go to bed and think about this problem.
I pace back in forth in my small cell, the voluminous robe swirling around my legs. I’m shocked at what I’ve learned. This whole time I’ve wondered why he’s taken these vows and how much longer they were going to last. For all I’d known, they could’ve been life-long vows. Now I know Cabal is doing this for the monastery and if he can keep his vows one more year, he can get this monastery restored. He’s so close to reaching his goal.
I’m starting to think my idea of leaving is the right one. But my thoughts are not clear. I need guidance, so I sneak out of my room and pad downstairs to the main altar. The vast space is lit only with moon glow filtered through arched windows. I light one solitary candle next to the statue of my personal god and bow my head in prayer.
The next morningI overhear two of our guests chatting as they pack the bus to leave. “How long do you think he’s going to hold out?”
“Not very long. I think he’s in love with her and wants her as his life mate. Did you see how he looks at her? How he sat so close in the refectory? I think he was secretly holding her hand at meals.”
I place a hand over my mouth. In love with me?
“I don’t think he’s going to reach his goal, which is too bad. This monastery really does need saving. That human is kind and I really like her, but she’s going to be the ruin of him.”
“He’s in there right now, praying for guidance!”
“Yep.”
I stagger back into the sanctuary, pause in the doorway and stand there, in shock. The bus rumbles behind me as it departs from the courtyard. Then I glance at Cabal who is on his knees before the altar, praying. He bows so low his forehead touches the stone steps. He’s been praying hard today, barely having a moment to say goodbye to our guests. He seems preoccupied. And now I know why.
My mind flashes to him spending countless hours with his quill in his red claw, restoring the library’s ancient text. The four years he’s already been here, cataloguing the needed repairs and the cost, ready to spend currency the moment his vows are complete. Just two days ago I helped Cabal position an endless number of bowls and tubs strategically around the sanctuary trying to capture all the water leaking from the roof during a sudden rainstorm.
The walls are crumbling. The murals are almost entirely covered in soot. The tapestries are worn and frayed. He’s trying to save this monastery and I have to leave so he can reach his goals. I have to protect him from me.
Otherwise, I will be the ruin of him.
I could wait for the next group of pilgrims to arrive and then leave with them, but who knows when that will be? And…and I’ve got to get out of here right now. What if I grow weak and tell him I love him too?
Tears begin to trail down my face. I’m going to miss him so much. Maybe I can return in a year? I can’t tell him that though; he can’t come after me. He needs to think I’ve left for good.
I race around in back hallways while he prays and ready for my escape. I’m ninety-nine percent certain that the next nearest monastery on the route will take me in and help me arrive at my correct placement. Because I can’t stay here another second.
I sneak into his office, sit at my desk and use the quill and ink to write a note for him on parchment. My writing isn’t as perfect as his, but he has taught me well so it’s at least legible. I carry the note with me to his room and quietly leave it on his pillow.
I will not be the reason the High Priest of Westmore does not complete his goal. I refuse to be the reason this monastery does not receive its much-needed restoration.
I double-knot my shoes, heft a pack of supplies onto my back and walk out a side door. I figure I’ve got a few hours until he truly notices I’m gone and finds the note. And by then, hopefully I will have reached the main road and caught a passing vehicle to pick me up and carry me to the next stop on the pilgrimage route. By the time he comes looking for me it will be too late. My trail will be cold.
The plan is good. Right?
I walk farther than I’ve ever walked in my entire life and my feet are killing me. I’m starting to worry that the distance from Westmore to the main road is farther than I thought.
The sun sets. Dark clouds form above, and a cold wind blows my robe up and around my legs. And then the rain starts, because of course. Nothing can ever be easy for me.
