Father Glyndwr followed his tormentor from the church seemingly unable to resist. She led him like a subdued puppy to a waiting Bentley, the faceless figure sat in the driver's seat didn't move as she guided her new pet into the rear of the large black saloon. Inside a heady mixture of scents filled the priests nostrils, the leather from the luxurious seats mixed with her perfume, a faint trace of sulphur added to the fragrance but he was aware of another aroma one that he couldn't recognise. The words of Madonna's 'Like a Prayer' drifted around the cabin, he tried to listen to the words:

When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there

I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing
I have no choice, I hear your voice
Feels like flying
I close my eyes, Oh God I think I'm falling
Out of the sky, I close my eyes
Heaven help me

Sister Mary had climbed in next to him and was stroking her nails over his thighs and stomach, the strange scent was cloying to him almost sickly sweet. Sitting still as stone he felt, rather than saw, the turn of her shoulders as she moved towards him. A flash of scarlet lip gloss passed his vision before her mouth descended towards his. He remembered the soft moist press and the slow incursion of her tongue before he was overwhelmed and passed into a dark world of unconsciousness troubled by demonic visions of biblical proportions.

It was the pain in his shoulders that roused him from his stupor, a dark stone wall filled his field of vision, rough hewn blocks tinged with green producing no heat their mere appearance causing him to shiver. His arms were above his shoulders and as he lifted his head he saw the source of his discomfort, his hands were bound with rope and he was suspended by a meat-hook from a wooden beam. The priest cast his gaze down over his naked body to where his feet were dangling inches above a slab floor. He tried hard to focus on a memory, an incident, anything that would help him remember how he had got there, but it was the strange heady scent that kept returning to haunt him.

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Strength in depth

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