The Power of Love

April 21, 1662
Parker-- age 18:

Parker stared at the dark house on the hillside. Lord Hemispot was still alive, so was his one servant, Adle. Parker had seen many things in his travel, done a lot, things that could not be explained away by rational explanations. Was Hemispot a warlock like Momot had said? Was he involved with sorcery? Was he really as strong as that old Arabian had claimed?
He rubbed his jaw where his father had struck him that morning. Cynicism made his lips twist in sardonic pride. He had smacked his father back, sent him onto his backside. "Don't ever hit me again, " he had told his father. "And don't you ever come into my room and force me to lay with you again. I'm not a child any longer and I won't let you touch me like that, not ever again."
"I bought your clothes! I fed you! You were a parasite. Why should you live in my home without returning something?"
"I pity you." <And, > he thought, battling the strong emotions that tried to surge upward and take over, <I hate you. God forgive me, but I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone. You're my father but I wish you were dead.>
"Ungrateful bastard!" Parker senior had snarled. "Get out of my house!"
"As you will . . . father . . . "
Parker walked slowly to the dark house, knocked on the door. Adle opened it, peering out through a thick crack. "I wish to see Lord Hemispot; I've come for a job, ' Parker said.
"Let him enter, " a harsh, accented voice said from the darkness of the house. Adle opened the door and Parker entered, spine stiff and straight. He met the thin slits of the old man's examination with a cool one of his own. Hemispot was ancient, with more wrinkles and aged flesh than anyone Parker had ever seen. "You wish to work for me?"
"I do."
"What can you do?"
Parker stopped playing around. "I studied in Arabia."
"Studied what?"
"The Misitorak."
The old man's eyes grew wide. There were strange flecks of gold in the brown orbs; There was a red rim around each pupil. "Have you?"
"That and other books."
"Who was your master?"
"I have no master. I studied with Momot Babart."
"Is he still alive?"
"He is."
"Did he talk of me?"
"He did."
"And you came to see if what he said had any basis in truth."
"I did."
Hemispot walked around the sturdy, muscular form of William Parker. "The villagers say I that I dance with the devil."
"I have heard that."
"What they say is true. Does this frighten you?"
"No."
"It should. Only a fool is unafraid of darkness." He ran his had up and down Parker's arm, felt the muscle beneath the coat. "You are strong. Perhaps, you will do. There is one test. If you pass it, you may labor beside me; If you fail, you die. Are you willing to take this test?"
"I am."
"Why?"
"I want power."
"Power is quite often deceiving; Power often controls the person who tries to claim it, if the mortal is weak."
"It will not control me."
"Power is often the brother to revenge. Is this what you truly seek?"
"Part of it." His eyes grew distant. A spark of rage sparkled in their blue depths. "Part of it, " he repeated in a strange voice.
Hemispot smiled. "I see the black strands of hatred around you. Who is it?" He watched the struggle in Parker. "Is it more than one?"
"Yes." <My father, > he thought in torment, <those two men on the ship . . . that man in Egypt . . . >
"You must learn to control that hatred, channel it. Hatred can be more powerful than love." His old eyes narrowed. "Are you willing to learn?"
"I want to learn."
"There is a price."
"There is always a price. What is yours?"
The old man smiled sleepily. "Have you ever enjoyed pain?" He watched the tightening of the other man's facial muscles. "I see you have tasted from that cup."
"Yes."
"If my payment includes that, will you pay it?"
There was a moment's hesitation, then, "Yes."
"Your desire to learn and your desire for revenge, are your masters."
"I have no masters."
"You do. Perhaps, one day, you will stand alone, but that time is not now. Come with me. Let us perform the test. If you survive, then you may move into this house with Adle and me; If you do not weather it, I shall deposit your body at your father's door."
"I understand."
"Do you accept this?"
"I do."
"Then come."
They went to the sub-basement. The stairs were damp, slippery. Adle went before them with a torch to light their way. That portion of the house smelled, not just of mildew and mold, but of other things . . . a little of brimstone and sulfur. 
Parker's stomach twisted. For one brief moment, he thought about turning, about escaping. Memories returned sharply to torment and taunt him. His spine grew rigid. Turn and leave? No. He was tired of taking orders, of having to do what others demanded simply because they were stronger than he was. He wanted to have the power to make others do what he wanted. If this was the only way to lay claim to that, then so be it.
Adle opened a side door at the bottom of the stairs and stepped through the opening. Hemispot and Parker followed him. Heat slapped them in their faces. It was a dungeon with a flame pit in the middle. The flames were bright and strong. Around the pit, a pentagram had been drawn; Around that pentagram, ancient markings had been painted onto the stone floor. Parker read each one, recognizing them from his studies in Arabia. 
This was a place of agony. Instruments of torture decorated the huge, cold room. In the corner, odd apparatuses stood, glassware, metal containers. Huge, old books graced tabletops.
"That is an eternal flame, " Hemispot said. "It will never go out. Look around, William Parker, what do you see?"
"I see a place of suffering and abuse."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Close your eyes and let your soul do the seeing."
Parker did. "I see power . . . and . . . " He shivered.
"Yes?" There was a gloating emotion in that old man's one word.
"And evil."
"Yes! Now, go look at the books, William."
Parker did, and recognized many names Momot had given him.
"I can show you the secrets of those books . . . if you pass the test . . . if . . . you agree to my terms."
"I have agreed to your terms. I am ready for the test."
"Then go to the blackened beams." 
Parker did. 
"Undress." There was a second or two of delay then Parker did as the old man had instructed. "No, face the pit." 
Parker turned and inspected the flames with dazed eyes. Thinking about doing something wasn't quite the same as actually doing it.
"Raise your arms and allow Adle to fasten you into the apparatus. Adle, pull his arms tightly upward; He must not be able to work free." Adle did. Parker grunted once or twice as the mute made extra sure the bonds were tight. "Now do his feet. William, spread your legs." 
Parker did and Adle secured his feet in metal bands. "Leave us, Adle." Without waiting, the mute vanished out of that dark, malodorous room.
Hemispot ran his hands over Parker's nude body. He cupped the firm buttocks, toyed with the man's limp penis. Sighing, the old man murmured, "I wish I could be the first with you but I fear he would not like it. He is not pleasant when he is angered." 
He went to the tables in the corner. He undressed and coated his body with putrid smelling oil. Streaks of red appeared on the ancient body. Chanting, he mixed several ingredients into a silver chalice. He moved slowly toward Parker. "Close your eyes and inhale." 
Parker did. His head swam, making him dizzy, disoriented. "Drink." 
Foul tasting fluid was forced into Parker's mouth. He swallowed, fighting back the nausea as he did so. Within moments, he felt as though he was flying, free of his body, free of the world around him. A vision of a tall, slim man, a man with chestnut curls, appeared in his mind's eye. Parker's groin reacted pleasantly. 
"Open your eyes." 
Parker obeyed. He watched the old man limp toward the fire with the cup. When he poured it into the flames, they shot up a bright purplish-black. They writhed and altered shape. A man sprang forth from the flames, a lean person with long, chestnut ringlets. Parker felt his groin react immediately, growing fuller. The creature looked around, spied the man hanging at the posts, and went toward him. It stopped in front of William Parker. Human hands caressed the nude, enslaved form. Parker's penis hardened fully. The man altered form. It became a grotesque creature, misshapen, black, scaly. Slimy saliva dripped from the huge, ugly mouth. Its odor was a scent of death and decay.
Horror shot through Parker; It grew until it almost claimed him when the creature began to make love to him.