20 – i – A Cultist’s Fall
by Tower CuratorJuly 13, 2011
“We have lost something, my brothers and sisters. Society has become plagued with the Self. The Self before the community. The Self before the neighbor. The Self before God’s work on this earth.”
Father Kevin Mould stood at his podium, hands firmly gripping the lectern’s edges as he leaned over the microphones. His dark eyes sought out the regulars of his sermons—Laura Huxley, a woman recently widowed in a bout of police violence. Peter White, a man cast out from his job due to suspicions of drug use. Patience Grossman, the woman shunned for having an odd baby. He looked for signs of discontent in their eyes and found none.
“Look around you and see what this world has become,” he continued, stern voice carrying clear to the back seats of the small chapel even without the microphone amplifying his message. “While we gather here in fellowship, children go hungry mere blocks away. There are elderly folks sitting alone, forgotten by their families, forgotten by a society that worships at the altar of individual success measured in wealth and possessions rather than connections and enrichment.”
Kevin pulled back, pacing atop the dais, unable to contain his anger despite himself. “They spit on our soup kitchen meant to feed the unfortunate,” he said, trusting his voice to reach all without the microphone. “They see us welcoming all races and tear us down. They see us aiding each other when we need it most and call it un-American.
“Salvation does not come from accumulating wealth or building walls.” Kevin gripped the podium once again. “It comes from sharing what we have, it comes from building each other up. It comes from creating a community where no one is left behind.”
Kevin took a breath, calming his voice as he felt the hook set—real problems that few could disagree with. “My friends,” he said, preparing to reel them in. “We are creating that community. Together. This will be the final meeting here at the Disciples of the Divine building. Brother Anderson has procured an apartment complex that will serve as our new home. Not just a home once a week to hear me speak, but a permanent home away from the cold isolation of the suburbs and the noise of the urban sprawl. We will grow our own food, support each other as a community should, and shield our young from the harsh glares of the world.”
To most of the congregation, this did not come as a surprise. Rather, he could see the relief on their faces. For years now, the Disciples of the Divine had been collecting fees far in excess of what many members could afford, all with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
Finally, that tomorrow was here.
“It is a bit of a fixer-upper,” Brother Anderson said, walking alongside Kevin through the halls of their new home.
The dilapidated corridors would need new panels, paint, floorboards, drop tiles, lights. It would be easier to tick off what wasn’t needed. Kevin looked around, satisfied nonetheless. “Work builds character. More importantly, if our flock puts effort into making their new home theirs, they’ll be less willing to leave.”
“Not like any of them have anywhere to go,” Anderson grumbled to himself. The tall, well-dressed man looked more like he belonged in a Wall Street trading firm than inside a rundown apartment complex, but he had been among the flock since before the Disciples of the Divine even had a proper name. “Most are destitute, half were homeless, drug use—”
“They will work. We will help them get clean.” Kevin clasped Anderson’s arm with a gentle smile. “These are good people. They just need a push in the right direction.”
Anderson paused, just a beat, and nodded with a small smile. “Some of them are. But, as flowery as your speeches are, the world still runs on money. Without funds, your push will barely be a nudge, if it can even be called that.”
Kevin lightly chuckled as they stepped into a large kitchen. The appliances were thirty years old, assuming the rusted hunks of metal even worked, but the imagination of what could be filled Kevin with a bright hope. “You don’t need to worry about money, friend. You know Grossman?”
Anderson didn’t, at least not without pausing to think. Kevin well knew that Anderson wouldn’t be able to name more than a handful of their flock without putting in some deep thinking. “Woman with the disfigured baby?”
“You can’t call her disfigured,” Kevin admonished with a tut. “Say… medical condition.”
“The one with the disfiguring medical condition? What about her?”
Kevin sighed. “I was approached by a… well, a strange sort. Wealthy eccentric, you know? As long as we care for the child until the ‘time is at hand’, we won’t be hurting for money.”
“What is he? The bastard’s father or something?”
“You need to work on being a little more polite, I think. But that was my guess, yes.”
Anderson ignored Kevin’s comment, choosing to pick at an old gas burner. The knob popped right off with only a light prod. Holding it up, he gave Kevin a significant look. “How much money are we talking? Because scrounging up enough to fix this place, even if your little flock provides all the labor, isn’t going to be cheap.”
“That’s your question?” Kevin shook his head. “Enough, trust me. But I was expecting you to ask about the ‘time is at hand’ quip. What do you suppose that is supposed to mean?”
“I’ll be honest: half your members are mentally unstable. The other half are high on drugs. There is a small portion that overlaps. Frankly, the entire world should be paying us to take these people off the street.”
“The rest of the world is out to get us. Me. They don’t like what we believe or what I teach.”
Anderson stared down at Kevin with an expression that Kevin couldn’t quite parse. It looked almost like pity, but there was no way his longest friend would pity him for anything. The expression passed back to Anderson’s flat gaze. “Let’s get an accounting of everything we’ll need for this place. Then we’ll see if your sugar daddy can actually pay up.”
“We have a problem.”
Kevin looked up from writing his latest sermon—a congratulatory one, thanking his flock for all their hard work getting this place habitable—and found Anderson in the doorway with a dour expression.
“Not the garden again, is it?” Kevin asked, heart sinking. They had been having trouble growing food indoors, despite having converted the entire second floor into one massive farm. They lacked the right lights, or the right water, or the nutrients in the meager amount of soil they had brought in. Blight stole the most promising growths last month, forcing them to trim away dozens of tomato plants before they could bear fruit.
“It’s your little moneybag girl. Her appearance disturbs the other children.”
Kevin let out a slow sigh. That certainly was another problem. He looked down at his speech, and crossed out a few of the more exaggerated claims. “I’ll speak on tolerance and understanding in the face of differences this week,” he said. “The children just don’t listen as well as the adults…”
“I doubt your flowery words will be enough this time around. Truly Potter—one of the few people with the ear of contractors we still need, if you need the reminder—just came to me in confession.”
“Anderson, you aren’t supposed to share—”
“Delilah, a child, frightens her. Her black eyes frighten her to the point that she is considering leaving. Permanently. And she is being spurred on by friends and family who have not joined us.”
Kevin sucked in a sharp breath. He knew, vaguely, that Truly had connections to the heating and air-conditioning industry through her former husband, but he didn’t care about that so much as he cared that Truly was thinking about leaving. She had been in his flock since the beginning—before the beginning, even, back when he had still been evangelizing in a more traditional Catholic manner. She shared his bed every other Tuesday… though, now that he thought about it, it had been a few months.
“Outsiders are convincing her to leave?” Kevin said, hurt, angry.
“Based on her confession, they’re not the root cause. Your girl is. They’re just helping push her. And it isn’t just her. Lukas commented on her oddity the other day. Ty mentioned to me a worry about his kid being in the same classroom. Otis said his kid had nightmares and blamed it on the girl. Shelby—”
Kevin’s countenance darkened. “We… can’t throw Delilah out. The rest of the congregation provides… not enough to support our dream. As you said all those months ago, we still need money.”
“Yeah. Obviously. So, what do you want to do? I think I’ve mollified Truly for now, but I doubt it will last, and the others…”
“I… Let’s move Delilah on her own. And her mother. There’s a whole quarter of the third floor unused still, right? Let’s put her there for now. Reduce how much contact she has with the others.”
Anderson thought for a moment, frowning. “That is not a long-term solution.”
“I know.” Kevin stood. “I’ll… see if I can contact her father. Maybe we can come to alternate arrangements?”
Anderson did not look believing, but he nodded anyway. “Fine. I’ll make the changes. Do you have an excuse for moving her, or…”
“The Lord gave me divine inspiration that she is corrupt, and needs to be cut off from all evil in the world in order for her to be saved,” Kevin said, almost believing his own words.
September 13, 2019
“I have seen the future, beloved. I have seen the future and the trials that are coming for those who stand for justice. Society has become plagued with the self, but we have lost more than our communities—we have lost our understanding of divine truth. God’s presence walks among us, yet so few of you recognize it.”
Kevin Mould stared into the mirror, tasting that last line, before he struck it from his notebook with a single swipe of his pen. It was too heavy handed. Taking a breath, he carried on practicing his speech.
“Don’t let them confuse you with their empty rituals and false prophets. The churches outside these walls worship a dead god, a god of segregation, an idol of the wealthy. We serve the living God, the God of the oppressed; God has chosen to work through imperfect hands to bring about perfect justice.”
Kevin paused again, hesitating with his pen hovering above the manuscript. “God has chosen to work through my hands to bring about perfect justice? Hmm…”
Turning away from the mirror, he paced back and forth through his frugal quarters at the top of the Disciples of the Divine complex. He had to be careful. He had to be cautious. The enemy was always looking for ways in.
Wasn’t the solution just to block all ways in?
He hummed in thought for a long moment, before scribbling out large sections of the sermon, rewriting them.
“They want you to doubt what you see with your own eyes. You have witnessed healings. You have witnessed miracles. You have witnessed prophecies come to pass. They want you to disbelieve! To question your eyes, your ears, and your very soul. Why? Because they fear losing their power over you. The government fears us. Traditional churches fear us. Even some of your own families fear what we represent—true freedom from their systems of oppression.”
Kevin nodded, feeling the words even as he recited them. “There will be persecution. There will be those who try to tear us apart from within and without. They will use the very love you have for each other against you. They will plant seeds of doubt, whisper lies about your leaders, try to convince you that surrender is safety.
“This is why we must be more than just a community—we must be a family bound by something stronger than blood. We must trust completely, love completely, commit completely. Half-measures will not protect us from what’s coming.
“To that end, it is time we close our doors to the outside world. No longer will they be able to spread their vile seeds of doubt. Stay close. Stay faithful. Stay together. The world outside grows more hostile each day, but in here, in this sacred space, you are protected by power they cannot comprehend.”
“I’ve got another ritual to try,” Kevin said as he lounged in his private quarters, relaxing on the cushioned leather seat. “Not something small this time. It is a ritual meant to suppress Delilah’s… otherness. I got it from her father.”
Anderson sniffed at a goblet of wine, wrinkling his nose despite the prestigious vintage, then sat before being invited. Kevin chose not to comment, waiting for Anderson’s eyes to look up from the notes.
“More hookey-Voodoo nonsense?” Anderson asked with a scoff. ”You know it doesn’t work, right? Her eyes are still black—those contacts you had me find don’t actually change her eyes.”
“Of course I know that.” Kevin spun his notebook around, showing the instructions off to Anderson. “We don’t need to believe. But this has the suitable air that others might believe—will believe. I promise miracles and miracles I deliver.”
Anderson took the notebook, looking over the instructions with a slowly deepening frown. “You want to kill live chickens in, what, ritual sacrifice?”
“We kill chickens anyway for food—”
“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that,” Anderson said, glowering. “Must we keep livestock indoors? The smell alone makes me queasy and watching the others rake the muck is worse.”
“If we want meat, we must keep livestock.” Kevin shrugged, unbothered. It wasn’t like he had to shovel manure. One word and his flock would handle everything. “I’m quite pleased with them, actually. Our gardens have been fruitful thanks to our friend’s advice,” he said with a knowing glance toward the notebook.
Anderson did not look impressed. “The bloodletting? Or the grow lamps I managed to scrounge up?”
“Both, perhaps.” Kevin didn’t much care, so long as they could live away from the vile eyes of the outside world. “What do you think? Can we play up this cleansing ritual, parade Delilah around with your contacts, and maintain the facade convincingly?”
“Forcing her to wear the contacts constantly might harm her eyes—which might anger her father,” Anderson said.
“Only in public. We keep them sequestered off in their own private corner.”
Anderson hummed, turning the page of the notebook. “There is another issue,” he said, idly, as if there wasn’t an issue at all. “Delilah mentioned—”
“Does nobody else have issues?”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
Kevin frowned, hesitating in his answer. “I suppose. It just… would be nice to discuss someone else for a change. A little variety. Very well, what is Delilah complaining about now?”
“Not a complaint, so much, just a comment. Ever since we performed the most recent ritual our wealthy friend provided, she had claimed to see a creature of sorts.”
“A creature?”
“Fluffy, black fur, pointed ears, a long bushy tail—”
“A cat? A cat got in?”
“She has never called it a cat,” Anderson said, shaking his head. “Always creature. Thing. Nya once, though I’m not sure why. And nobody else has seen it or heard it.”
Kevin rolled his eyes, sighing. “Delusions of grandeur. We’ve given her too much attention, and now she’s trying to get more by making up a creature. If there is a cat, I want it found and chased out—it might kill our chickens. Otherwise, ignore her.”
Anderson nodded, but kept looking over the notebook, eyes scanning the page with a little more depth than expected. It wasn’t until Kevin coughed that he started and closed the book, sliding it across the table to Kevin. “Very well. I’ll handle it—and I’ll come to you if anything changes with the girl.” His hand and eyes lingered on the notebook before he finally looked up with a smile. “I’ll get everything we need for your little ritual as well—I’m rather interested in seeing how Delilah handles it.”
The girl vanished.
Kevin gnawed on the inside of his lip as he paced back and forth.
The girl vanished and killed one of his guards on the way out. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. He could have dismissed their rebellion as outside influences working their way in, and even used those seeds of violence to root out a few others who had been less than pleased with the way things had been going lately. But Delilah was required. Without her and, more importantly, the funds she brought in, Anderson couldn’t continue paying off authorities, paying utilities, and paying for the more lavish refinements allowed on the upper floors.
He had a meeting today with the girl’s father. People were out looking for her, his trusted people, but thus far, none had reported back.
If only he had more time.
“Hello there, friend.”
Kevin whirled around, heart jumping from his chest. The overly large figure of the girl’s father sat in Kevin’s recliner—he hadn’t made a noise entering despite his size.
“H-Hello,” Kevin said, shakily taking a seat in the chair Anderson normally used. For some reason, today’s meeting felt even more weighty than usual. He wondered if this was how his flock felt when meeting with him; an average human standing before a divine figure.
“Your home seems to be in an uproar today,” the man said, wrinkling the tattoos on his face in a kindly smile. “Something went wrong?”
“N… No. No, just sent out a few for supplies today,” Kevin said, slowly matching the man’s smile. “Had a bad batch of crops that we’re going to have to replace.”
“I see, that is most troubling indeed,” the man said, furrowing his brow. He looked genuinely concerned. In all the years Kevin had known him, he had always felt earnest, even when discussing the proper methods of slaughtering a goat for ritual sacrifice. “You’ve been following the directions I provided all those years ago?”
“Of course!” Kevin said, a bit too eagerly. “But… I mean, you can’t win them all, right?”
“No, I suppose not,” he said with a good-natured chuckle. “I’ve come today to inform you that the time is at hand.”
Kevin sucked in his breath at hearing that phrase. Even though he hadn’t heard those words in over ten years, they burned in his memory like he repeated them to himself every day. “D-Delilah is—”
“Gone. I’m aware—Anderson informed me. It matters little. We have an alternate solution, this cycle, and if it fails, we can always petition The Daughter next cycle.”
Kevin’s thoughts churned over his emotions, stifling the anger he felt at Anderson going over his head, the father being aware already, and the way he didn’t sound so upset—maybe things weren’t as unsalvageable as they seemed? The last of what he said confused Kevin, however. “Solution? Cycle?”
The man smiled, exhaling a small amused breath from his flared nostrils. “Anderson has already taken those I believe can be of use to me. The rest of your… flock, is it? You and your flock, I have a different task for. Consider it penance for failing to uphold our bargain.”
Penance. Kevin’s mind latched onto the word as if it were a ray of hope shining down, offering salvation from the mess Delilah had made. “Of course. Anything!”
“I’m glad you agreed so readily,” the man said, lifting a large wooden case decorated with burned-in curved and floral markings. “I have words—and more—that need to be spread.”
January 31, 2026
“We have lost something, my loyal flock.” Red dripped down Kevin Mould’s vision, blurring his view of the bodies in his pews. “Our very lives are meaningless and weak, nothing compared to the glory of The One. Free us from the overwhelming burden of thought!
“I shall instill the glory into each of you!”