The Devil's Work

Perplexed, Father Mathew stared at the apparition in front of him. There stood Erika. Just as he knew her in every detail. Well, ahem, he hadn't known some of her details until now, and he tried not to stare at them too much. He didn't understand what had happened here. He was also finding it incredibly difficult to think logically at the moment. It was as if he was drunk and had fallen on his head at the same time. The undressed young woman before him occupied his entire field of vision and his complete attention.

It took him a physical effort to move his gaze upwards to look her in the eye. Well, THOSE eyes, er, darn it, upwards! He swallowed dryly.

“Mathew, do you want to hug me?” she asked in the soft, shy voice he knew so well.

As if pulled by a string, he took a step towards her and spread his arms wide. But before he could touch her, she deftly dived from under his arms and quickly scurried backwards. In the same movement, she picked up the fallen cloak from the floor and ran out of the sacristy on nimble feet. Her silvery laughter was the last thing he heard of her.

He was confused and disappointed. Why was she playing with him like that? He was about to run after her when he noticed the note. It was lying exactly where she had picked up her cloak. Perhaps it had fallen out of her pocket. Curious, he bent down and picked up the folded piece of paper. After a moment's hesitation, he opened it and read: If you want me to help the village, then you have to do something for me too. You already know what I want.

Father Mathew blinked. The longer the woman was no more around him, the clearer his mind began to work again.

“What kind of devil's work was this?” he thought to himself. But what choice did he have? Yes, he could already guess what this witch wanted from him. Nothing less than his soul. And she was using his human, or rather male, weakness to achieve this. Despite his vow never to have a wife, he was still a man under his priestly robes. A man, fallible and subject to temptation. He knew he should resist it. His faith and his will were strong enough to do so, he hoped. On the other hand, it would be selfish and to a certain extent cowardly if he put his own welfare above that of his flock. Was it not his duty as a shepherd to take this guilt upon himself in order to save the people entrusted to his care?

He slapped his hands over his face. How was he possibly supposed to decide?

Erika was still sitting in the pew after all the other churchgoers had left for home. She had these strange dreams, disturbing dreams in which Father Mathew played a central role. The images and feelings that the dreams brought her were beautiful on the one hand and frightening on the other. She didn't understand what they meant. And she couldn't talk to anyone about them.

She had tried to do so yesterday in confession. What had happened then still filled her with dismay and shame. She felt she had to apologize, but couldn't muster the courage to follow the priest into the sacristy. So she crouched in the shadows, unable to make a decision.

Then she heard footsteps approaching. The high heels made a loud clack, clack, clack, the echo of which reverberated off the walls. Erika raised her head. She recognized the lady with the curly black hair, dressed in an elegant costume, whom she had noticed several times in and outside the church. Without knowing why, she had the impression that the stranger could help her find the right way and she looked expectantly towards her. Strangely, she was wearing a dark red coat over her arm.

In the fading light, the woman's eyes glowed like cold stars. Erika thought they burned into her heart and revealed her deepest secrets. She had a shiver down her spine and shook herself.

“I've got a message for you,” her voice sounded like silk, peppered with needle-sharp shards of glass, ”he's waiting for you.”

The girl could hardly believe what she was hearing. Were her dreams really going to come true?

“Everything will be fine,” the older woman said soothingly, ”You just have to do one thing first. Take off your dress and put this on instead.”

She handed Erika the folded cloak.

“I don't understand.”

“Just do it and you'll understand.”

There was something commanding about her that the younger girl had to obey.

Father Mathew was still standing in the sacristy, his inner self deeply torn. He heard the door creak open, followed by quiet, approaching footsteps. He looked up.

There she was. She had returned and was wearing the red cloak again. And nothing underneath ...