The Covenant of Flesh

The rain had stopped by the time I woke, replaced by silence so complete it felt unnatural. I'd dozed off reviewing my forensic data, my neural interface still displaying the scans of the three bodies across my vision.

But something wasn't adding up.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and pulled the data back into focus. Three victims. Three catastrophic mutation failures. Except...

I pulled up the timeline Mother Celestine had provided. Five years of operation. Forty-two Sisters had taken the sacrament. Forty-two successful transformations. Perfect record.

Until three weeks ago.

Three deaths in three weeks after five years of zero casualties wasn't just statistically improbable. It was impossible.

Unless someone wanted it to look like the serum was failing.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered to the empty room. "These aren't failures. They're murders."

Someone was tampering with the doses. Someone was killing Sisters and making it look like the sacrament was to blame.

A knock at my door made me jump. I checked my interface-6:43 PM. Dinner started at seven.

"Just a minute," I called, closing my files and running a hand through my hair. I'd showered and changed into clean tactical wear-black pants, fitted shirt, my armored coat. Professional. Untouchable.

Sister Vera waited in the hallway, her gray latex habit squeaking softly as she shifted her weight. Her amber eyes were red-rimmed, like she'd been crying.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Sister Camille cornered me after prayers. She wanted to know what I'd told you. She was... aggressive." Her voice dropped. "I'm scared, Kade."

I stepped into the hallway, letting the door close behind me. "I need to ask you something. Mother Celestine said the sacrament had a perfect success rate for five years. Is that true?"

"Yes." She nodded emphatically. "Every Sister who took it transformed beautifully. Enhanced senses, stabilized mutations, spiritual clarity. It's been a blessing for all of us." Her voice cracked. "Until Sister Lucia."

"No previous deaths? No failed transformations? Not even minor complications?"

"Never. In five years, every Sister transformed successfully." She met my eyes, and in her amber gaze I saw understanding dawn. "You think someone is killing us."

"I think someone wants me to believe the sacrament is dangerous," I said carefully. "Which means either they want the experiments stopped, or they want to hide something else."

Sister Vera's breathing quickened, her breasts rising and falling beneath the latex. "But who would-"

"That's what I'm here to find out." I started walking. "Come on. Let's not be late for dinner."

The refectory was a Gothic marvel-vaulted ceilings soaring three stories high, stained glass windows depicting the Unveiled Mother in various poses of revelation, long wooden tables arranged in neat rows. Candlelight flickered from iron chandeliers, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

Forty Sisters filled the hall, their latex habits creating a symphony of squeaks and whispers as they moved. Most wore gray like Sister Vera, but I counted a dozen in black-senior Sisters, including several I recognized from glimpses in the corridors. At the head table sat Mother Celestine, flanked by two women I hadn't met yet.

Mother Celestine wore the same obscene black latex habit from earlier, her massive breasts barely contained, her midriff bare, the slits in her skirt revealing tantalizing glimpses of pale thigh and the heavy weight between her legs. She smiled when she saw me, those violet eyes glowing in the candlelight.

"Detective Kade," she purred, her voice carrying across the hall. Conversations stopped. All eyes turned to me. "Please, join us at the head table. We've been waiting."

Sister Vera guided me to a seat between her and Sister Dominique, directly across from Mother Celestine. I could feel the Mother Superior's gaze on me, could smell her from here-that intoxicating mix of perfume, musk, and chemical sweetness.

"Sisters," Mother Celestine said, rising to her feet. Her latex habit creaked, and I saw her cock shift beneath the skirt, semi-erect. "We are blessed tonight to have a guest among us. Detective Vera Kade has come to help us understand the tragedies that have befallen our beloved Sisters. Let us welcome her with open hearts."

A murmur of responses-some warm, some skeptical. I noticed Sister Camille, the red-haired woman, glaring at me from a nearby table.

Before the meal could begin, a side door opened and six young women entered the refectory.

They were completely naked except for white wimples.

The novices took positions along the walls, standing at attention, hands clasped in front of them. Their bodies were on full display-small breasts and large, pale skin and dark, slim builds and curvy. Every body type was represented, every variety of beauty. They stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone.

I felt sick.

"What is this?" I asked quietly.

Sister Vera leaned close. "The novices serve during formal meals. It's... tradition."

"They're naked."

"The body is a temple. We don't hide what the Unveiled Mother has given us." But Sister Vera's voice was tight, uncomfortable.

The meal began-roasted vegetables, bread, some kind of meat I didn't recognize. The novices moved between tables, serving wine and food, their latex-free bodies squeaking softly against the wooden benches when they knelt to reach platters.

Halfway through the first course, Sister Magdalene-a severe-looking woman in black latex-called one of the novices over. The girl couldn't have been more than nineteen, petite with dark curly hair and small breasts.

"Come here, little one," Sister Magdalene said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. She glanced at me, then back at the novice. "Kneel."

The girl obeyed, sinking to her knees between Sister Magdalene's spread legs.

"Perhaps our guest would like to see how we celebrate the flesh here," Sister Magdalene continued, her hand moving to the girl's head, fingers tangling in her hair. "How we honor-"

"Sister Magdalene." Mother Celestine's voice cut through the hall like a blade. Every conversation stopped. "Are you attempting to impress our guest with a display of power you do not possess?"

Sister Magdalene's face went white. "Mother Celestine, I was merely-"

"You were attempting to assert dominance over a novice to compensate for your own insecurities." Mother Celestine's smile was glacial. "The novices are under my protection. They serve because they choose to serve, not because senior Sisters need to demonstrate their status to outsiders."

She stood, and the weight of her presence filled the room. "Novices, you are dismissed for the evening. Return to your dormitory. You have served well."

The six young women practically fled, grabbing simple gray robes from hooks near the door and disappearing into the corridors. I heard their footsteps echoing long after they'd gone.

Sister Magdalene sat frozen, her face burning with shame.

"Let that be a lesson," Mother Celestine said, settling back into her seat. Her latex squeaked, and I saw her cock was fuller now, obviously aroused by the confrontation. "We may celebrate the flesh, but we do not exploit the vulnerable. Not in my Covenant."

She met my eyes across the table, and I saw something there-not kindness exactly, but a code. Rules. Lines she wouldn't cross, even as she crossed so many others.

It should have made me feel better.

It didn't.

After the main course, Sister Beatrice rose and produced a large glass bottle filled with deep purple wine. The candlelight made it shimmer, almost glow.

"The sacrament," she announced, her voice clinical and precise. "Those who wish to commune with the Divine, drink and be transformed."

She poured for Mother Celestine first, then Sister Dominique, then moved down the table toward me.

"You should drink," Sister Vera whispered urgently. "Refusing the sacrament is... it's seen as rejection. Of the Unveiled Mother. Of all of us."

"I'm not one of you."

"They don't care. If you refuse, they'll think you judge them. Think we're sinners or monsters or-" Her voice caught. "Please, Kade. Just a sip. Don't make yourself a target."

Sister Beatrice stood before me, the bottle in her hands, her gray eyes studying me with clinical interest. "Will you commune with us, Detective?"

Every eye in the room was on me. I could feel the weight of their attention, their expectations. Sister Camille was leaning forward, waiting for me to refuse, to give her ammunition.

I thought about the bodies in the morgue. About Sister Margot, still transforming on a steel table. About whatever truth was hiding in this Gothic nightmare.

"One taste," I said. "To honor your hospitality."

Sister Beatrice's lips twitched-almost a smile. She poured a half-glass of the shimmering purple wine and handed it to me.

I brought it to my lips. The smell was overwhelming-sweet fruit and ozone and something underneath that made my hindbrain scream danger. But I sipped, just barely wetting my tongue, and swallowed.

The effect was immediate.

The world sharpened. Colors became more vivid-the purple of the wine, the black of the latex habits, the pale gold of candlelight. Sounds clarified-the squeak of rubber, the whisper of breath, the rustle of fabric. And smells... oh god, the smells. I could identify every Sister by scent now-sweat and arousal and fear and excitement and that underlying chemical sweetness that pervaded everything.

And I could feel my body responding. Heat blooming low in my belly. Nipples hardening beneath my shirt. A slickness between my legs that had nothing to do with fear.

"How does it feel?" Mother Celestine asked, her voice like honey. "To taste divinity?"

"Different," I managed, setting the glass down carefully. My hand was shaking.

Around the table, Sisters were drinking deeply, some draining their glasses, some taking measured sips. The atmosphere in the hall shifted-conversations became louder, laughter more frequent. I saw Sisters touching each other more freely, hands lingering on arms and backs and thighs.

The effects were spreading through the room like wildfire.

Midway through the dessert course, Sister Camille stood abruptly, her chair scraping against stone. She swayed slightly-drunk on wine or sacrament, I couldn't tell-and pointed at me with a shaking hand.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, her voice slurring. "Who gave you the right to judge us? To investigate divine will?"

The hall went silent.

I stood slowly, keeping my movements calm. "I'm not here to judge anyone. I'm here to investigate evidence. Three women are dead. That's not divine will. That's murder."

"Murder?" Sister Camille laughed, high and brittle. "You think someone killed them? You think this is some secular crime you can solve with your scans and your logic?" She stumbled forward, and several Sisters moved to catch her. "Sister Margot was my friend. She was beautiful and brilliant and the Unveiled Mother chose her for transformation and now she's gone and you think you can-"

She broke down sobbing, collapsing into the arms of the Sisters around her.

Mother Celestine rose, her presence filling the hall. "Sister Camille, you are excused. Sister Dominique, please escort her to her quarters and ensure she rests."

Sister Dominique moved with practiced efficiency, gathering the distraught woman and guiding her toward the exit. As they passed me, Sister Camille turned, her face streaked with tears and wine.

"She spent so much time in the greenhouse," she whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear. "All three of them did. Sister Therese worked there. Sister Lucia volunteered there sometimes. And Margot... Margot loved it there. The only place she felt at peace."

Then she was gone, Sister Dominique's firm grip on her arm, and the hall erupted in whispered conversations.

The greenhouse.

That was the connection. All three victims had spent time there.

Mother Celestine's voice cut through the murmurs. "The detective is here to help us find truth, Sisters. Any who refuse to cooperate will answer to me personally." Her violet eyes swept the room, and I saw several women flinch. "Is that clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Mother Celestine" echoed through the hall.

Dinner ended shortly after. The wine had loosened tongues and inhibitions-I saw Sisters whispering intimately, hands disappearing beneath tables, lips meeting in the shadows. But they dispersed when Mother Celestine dismissed them, filing out in twos and threes, latex squeaking, leaving trails of perfume and pheromones in their wake.

Sister Beatrice approached me as I stood to leave. "Mother Celestine requests your presence in her study. Now, if you please."

It wasn't a request.

Mother Celestine's study occupied the highest room in the northern tower. Sister Beatrice and Sister Dominique flanked me as we climbed the narrow spiral stairs, their latex habits squeaking in rhythm with each step. The wine was still humming in my veins, making everything feel slightly unreal, edges too sharp and colors too bright.

The study door was heavy oak bound in iron. Sister Beatrice knocked once, then pushed it open.

"Mother Celestine, the detective."

The room beyond was unexpected-luxurious in a way the rest of the Covenant wasn't. A large purple velvet couch dominated one corner, facing a fireplace where flames crackled and popped. Bookshelves lined two walls, filled with leather-bound volumes and glass vials containing specimens I didn't want to examine too closely. A massive dark wood desk sat before a rain-streaked window that overlooked the wasteland, lightning flickering in the distance.

And Mother Celestine stood before that window, completely transformed.

She'd changed into something even more obscene than her dinner attire. The new habit-if it could still be called that-was pure black latex so thin it looked painted on. But key areas had been modified with strategic cutouts.

Her breasts were completely exposed, the large pale mounds tipped with dark nipples pierced by silver rings. A delicate silver chain connected the two piercings, and it swayed slightly with her breathing. Her midriff was bare, showing her toned stomach and a silver navel piercing. Below, what passed for a skirt was just thin strips of latex hanging from a belt at her hips, doing absolutely nothing to conceal her anatomy.

Her cock hung heavy between her legs-easily eight or nine inches even semi-erect, pale and veined, the head glistening. Below it, I could see her pussy, smooth and hairless, already glistening with arousal.

"Detective Kade." Mother Celestine turned from the window, and the firelight made her skin glow like pearl. "Thank you for joining me. Please, sit."

She gestured to the couch. I remained standing.

Sister Beatrice moved to lean against the desk, her gray eyes watching me with clinical interest. Sister Dominique positioned herself near the door-casual, but blocking the exit.

I was trapped in a room with three enhanced women, my judgment compromised by drugs, my body betraying me with every breath.

"You wanted to discuss the investigation," I said, forcing my voice steady.

"I wanted to discuss the truth." Mother Celestine moved closer, her latex squeaking, her cock swaying with each step. "You've discovered something, haven't you? I can see it in your eyes."

I should have denied it. Should have maintained professional distance. But the wine was singing in my blood, and those violet eyes were pulling answers from me like prayer.

"The deaths don't match normal serum failures," I heard myself say. "The mutation patterns are wrong. Sister Lucia's crystallization progressed backward. Sister Therese had two chemical signatures-contamination. Sister Margot's transformation is too organized, too perfect." I met her gaze. "Someone is tampering with the doses. These aren't accidents. They're murders."

Mother Celestine exhaled slowly, and something like relief crossed her face. "You've confirmed what I suspected but couldn't prove."

That surprised me. "You suspected sabotage?"

"For three weeks I've watched Sisters I love die in agony, and everyone tells me it's divine will or serum failure or bad luck." Her voice was bitter. "But in five years, Detective, we've had zero casualties. Forty-two Sisters took the sacrament. Forty-two Sisters transformed beautifully. The serum is stable. The protocols are precise." She moved to the window, staring out at the wasteland. "These deaths are impossible under normal circumstances. Which means someone is making them happen."

"Why hire me?" I asked. "Why not investigate yourself?"

"Because I couldn't admit I suspected murder without causing panic. The sacrament is sacred here. If the Sisters believed it could be weaponized, turned into poison, they'd lose faith. The Covenant would fracture." She looked back at me. "I needed an outsider. Someone with no stake in our theology. Someone who could find truth without bias."

Sister Beatrice spoke from her position by the desk. "The question is who has both means and motive. Access to the wine cellar is restricted to senior Sisters. The sacrament itself is stored in blessed bottles, sealed until the ceremony. Only I handle the final preparation."

"Sister Camille mentioned the greenhouse," I said carefully. "All three victims spent time there."

"Sister Therese worked there full-time," Sister Dominique confirmed, her voice rough like she didn't speak often. "Tended the plants, maintained the soil. Sister Lucia volunteered occasionally. And Sister Margot..." She paused. "Margot liked the solitude. Used to spend hours there."

"Is it locked at night?" I asked.

"Yes," Mother Celestine said. "Only senior Sisters have keys. But during the day, any Sister can access it for prayer or meditation."

I thought about the botanical compounds in Sister Therese's tissue. About the plant mutations that had consumed her body. "Could someone have used greenhouse compounds to contaminate the doses?"

Sister Beatrice considered this. "Theoretically, yes. Several plants we cultivate have gamma-reactive properties. Combined with the sacrament, they could trigger catastrophic mutations."

"Who has botanical knowledge?"

"Sister Therese did," Sister Dominique said. "She was our expert. But she's dead."

"Sister Camille helps with cultivation," Sister Beatrice added. "And several of the senior Sisters have basic knowledge."

Sister Camille. Unstable, grief-stricken, angry at Sister Margot's transformation. Making threats at dinner. Access to both the greenhouse and, as a senior Sister, the wine cellar.

But something still didn't fit. If this was about protecting the greenhouse secret, why kill Sister Therese, who worked there? Unless-

Mother Celestine interrupted my thoughts by stepping close-too close. I could feel the heat radiating from her enhanced body, could smell her arousal mixing with expensive perfume.

"You need to understand what you're protecting," Mother Celestine said softly. Her hand came up to cup my face, and where her skin touched mine, I felt electricity. "The sacrament isn't just wine, Detective. It's transformation. Evolution. Becoming what we were always meant to be." Her thumb traced my lower lip. "Part of you already wants to join us. I can smell it on you."

I should have pulled away. Should have maintained distance. But my body was responding to her touch, to the chemicals her skin was releasing, to the wine still humming through my system.

"There's a midnight service tonight," she continued, her violet eyes holding mine. "A communion ceremony. Attend it. See what the sacrament truly creates. See what we become when we embrace the flesh fully."

"I'm here to investigate, not participate."

"Sometimes they're the same thing." Her hand slid down my neck to rest over my racing pulse. "You can't understand us from the outside, Vera. You have to feel it. Experience it. Let yourself transform, even just a little."

She leaned close, and I felt her lips brush my ear. "Say yes."

The word hovered on my tongue. My body was screaming for release, for touch, for the oblivion her presence promised. The wine had lowered my defenses, and Mother Celestine was a predator who knew exactly how to exploit weakness.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, my detective's instinct kicked in. This was too convenient. Too perfect. She was offering me exactly what the wine made me crave, at exactly the moment I was most vulnerable.

"I'll think about it," I managed, stepping back. The loss of her touch left me cold.

Mother Celestine smiled-not disappointed, but satisfied. Like I'd given exactly the answer she expected. "Of course. Take your time." She gestured to Sister Dominique. "Sister, please escort Detective Kade back to her quarters. I believe she needs rest before making any decisions."

Sister Dominique moved to my side, her scarred face impassive. As we reached the door, Mother Celestine called out:

"One more thing, Detective. When you attend the service-and you will attend-remember this: What you see cannot be unseen. What you experience cannot be unexperienced. The sacrament transforms everyone it touches." Those violet eyes glowed in the firelight. "Even those who only observe."

Sister Dominique was silent as we descended the spiral stairs, her combat boots echoing on stone. The wine was still working through my system, making the walls seem to breathe, making every sound sharp and overwhelming.

"She likes you," Sister Dominique said finally, her rough voice echoing in the stairwell. "That's dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because Mother Celestine always gets what she wants." We reached the bottom of the stairs, entering the corridor that led to the west wing. "She wanted this Covenant. She wanted the sacrament. She wanted forty-two Sisters transformed perfectly." She looked at me, her heterochromatic eyes-one green, one blue-seeming to see through me. "And now she wants you."

"I'm not interested in being wanted."

"Doesn't matter. Mother Celestine doesn't take no for an answer. She just waits until yes becomes inevitable." We stopped outside my door. "Whatever she offered you tonight-the midnight service, the sacrament, herself-she's already calculating how you'll accept. It's just a matter of time."

She left me there, her boots echoing down the corridor, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and my compromised judgment and the wine still singing promises in my blood.

I locked my door and leaned against it, breathing hard. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alive and demanding attention. The wine effects were supposed to fade, but if anything they were intensifying-or maybe that was just Mother Celestine's pheromones still clinging to my skin.

A soft knock made me jump.

"Kade? It's me. Sister Vera."

I opened the door to find her standing in the hallway, her gray latex habit disheveled, her amber eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"Can I come in?" she whispered.

I should have said no. Should have maintained professional distance. But she looked so small, so frightened, and the wine had destroyed my judgment.

I stepped aside, and she entered quickly, closing the door behind her.

"Sister Camille threatened me," she said without preamble. "After dinner, after Sister Dominique took her to her quarters, she came to mine. She said if I keep talking to you, if I keep revealing our secrets, she'll-" Her voice broke. "She said the Unveiled Mother would judge me. That I'd transform like Sister Lucia did."

I guided her to sit on the bed. "Tell me about Sister Camille. Is she unstable? Dangerous?"

"She's been different since Sister Margot's transformation. They were close, I think. Maybe more than close." Sister Vera twisted her hands together, latex squeaking. "And she spends a lot of time in the greenhouse now. She used to help Sister Therese with cultivation, and now that Therese is gone, Camille's taken over her duties."

The greenhouse again. Everything kept circling back to that location.

"Sister Vera, I need you to be completely honest with me. What's in the greenhouse? What's the secret everyone's protecting?"

She looked up at me, fear and conflict warring in her eyes. "I... I can't. Mother Celestine would-"

"Three Sisters are dead. If you know something that could prevent more deaths, you have to tell me."

She was quiet for a long moment, trembling. Then she took a shaky breath and met my eyes.

"I've taken the sacrament twice," she whispered. "Both times, my body transformed. Enhanced senses. Stabilized mutations. My feline modifications became more pronounced. I became... more." She touched her face, her sharp nails catching the light. "It's beautiful, Kade. The transformation. It's everything they promised."

"But?"

"But I also participated in Sister Lucia's death." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "It was a communion ceremony. Mother Celestine called it a blessing. Lucia was transforming, the crystals growing from her skin, and we were told to comfort her. To be with her. To help her ascend."

My stomach turned. "What does that mean?"

"It means I held her." Sister Vera's voice was barely audible. "I kissed her. I touched her. I made love to her while the crystals grew through her flesh and she screamed and begged for it to stop." She looked at her hands like they belonged to someone else. "And I told myself it was holy. That I was helping her transform. That her pain was ecstasy. But now..." She sobbed. "Now I don't know what was real. I don't know if she wanted it or if we forced her or if-"

I pulled her close, and she collapsed against me, crying into my shoulder. Her latex habit was warm against my body, squeaking softly as she shook.

"You think the sacrament can be weaponized," she whispered against my neck. "You think someone's using it to kill us. You're right. I know you're right. Because for five years it worked perfectly, and now suddenly it's deadly?" She pulled back, her face streaked with tears. "Someone's changing the formula. Someone wants us dead."

"Do you have any idea who?"

She shook her head. "But I know the connection. All three of them-Lucia, Therese, Margot-they all spent time in the greenhouse. That's the only link."

"What's in the greenhouse? What's so important about it?"

Sister Vera's mouth opened, then closed. Fear crossed her face. "I can't tell you. It's not my secret to share."

"Sister Vera-"

"Please don't go to the midnight service," she interrupted, her amber eyes pleading. "Mother Celestine is testing you. If you see what we become during the sacrament, if you witness the communion, you'll want to join us. The wine will make you crave it. And if you join us..." She touched my face with one clawed hand. "You'll never be the same."

She left before I could respond, slipping out the door and disappearing into the darkened corridors, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my compromised judgment and the knowledge that in three hours, something would happen that I needed to witness.

Whether I should or not.

At 11:47 PM, I heard the singing.

Latin words I didn't recognize, multiple voices in perfect harmony, rising from the courtyard below. Beautiful and eerie and compelling.

I went to my window despite knowing I shouldn't. Despite Sister Vera's warning. Despite every professional instinct screaming at me to stay away.

The courtyard had been transformed.

Hundreds of candles lined the perimeter, their flames dancing in the still air. The fountain in the center-the one with the obscene statue of the Virgin Mary-was flowing with purple wine, the liquid glowing faintly in the candlelight. And arranged in concentric circles around the fountain were the Sisters of Saint Mara's Covenant.

All forty of them.

Still wearing their latex habits-black and gray shimmering in the firelight-they swayed and sang, their voices rising and falling in hypnotic patterns. I could see their faces in the candlelight-Sister Vera, Sister Camille, Sister Beatrice, Sister Dominique, and dozens of others I didn't know.

And standing atop the fountain, completely naked, was Mother Celestine.

She was magnificent and terrible, her pale skin glowing like the moon, her enhanced anatomy on full display. As I watched, she spread her arms wide and began to speak-not Latin, but something older, something that made my hindbrain scream run.

The circles of Sisters began to rotate, moving in opposite directions, creating a mesmerizing spiral pattern. Their singing grew louder, more frenzied. And then, one by one, they began to shed their habits.

Latex peeled away to reveal enhanced flesh-pale skin and dark, slim bodies and curvy, small breasts and large. Every variety of beauty. Every modification and mutation. They were all beautiful. All perfect in their own ways.

And they were all aroused.

Mother Celestine descended from the fountain like a goddess, stepping down into the mass of naked bodies. Immediately, hands reached for her-Sisters touching her arms, her breasts, her cock. She laughed, the sound carrying up to my window, and pulled them close.

The singing dissolved into moans.

I watched as the orderly circles collapsed inward, bodies pressing together, hands roaming freely. I saw Sister touching Sister-mouths finding breasts, fingers sliding between legs, explicit lesbian sexual activity escalating rapidly. The courtyard became a writhing mass of flesh, latex habits discarded in piles, purple wine flowing from the fountain over naked skin.

Mother Celestine moved through the chaos like a shark through water, her massive cock fully erect, her hands touching and claiming. I saw her pull Sister Beatrice close, kissing her deeply while another Sister knelt to take her cock into her mouth. I saw her bend Sister Dominique over the fountain edge, her fingers working between the scarred woman's legs.

This was the sacrament. This was communion. This was what Mother Celestine had wanted me to see.

And god help me, I wanted to join them.

My hand was already on the door handle before I realized I'd moved. The wine was singing in my blood, the pheromones were overwhelming my resistance, and the sight of all that beauty, all that pleasure, was too much for my compromised judgment to fight.

But before I could open the door, I saw something that made me freeze.

Movement near the greenhouse. A figure standing apart from the ritual, watching from the shadows. Too tall to be a Sister. Too broad-shouldered.

I focused, using my enhanced vision to cut through the darkness and candlelight.

My breath stopped.

A male. A pre-gamma male. Here. Alive. At Saint Mara's Covenant.

In the post-gamma world where the radiation had killed ninety-eight percent of males, where the survivors were hunted by corporations for genetic material, where an unmodified male was worth literally millions in breeding rights...

There was a man standing in the shadows of the greenhouse.

As I watched, Sister Camille broke away from the orgy. Naked, her red hair wild, her body flushed with arousal, she strode directly to him. She didn't hesitate. She grabbed him, pulled him close, and kissed him with desperate passion.

He kissed her back.

Then she took his hand and led him into the greenhouse, and they disappeared inside.

My detective's mind was racing despite the wine. The connections were slamming together:

Someone was killing to protect this secret. Or to possess it. Or to destroy it.

But before I could process further, before I could decide what to do with this information, the wine and pheromones and chemical arousal overwhelmed my resistance completely.

I left my room.

The corridors were empty, the Sisters all in the courtyard. I descended the stairs in a haze, my body moving without conscious direction, pulled by need and chemical compulsion and something deeper. Something the wine had awakened.

The courtyard air was thick with incense and pheromones and the smell of sex. I could hear the wet sounds of bodies moving together, moans and gasps and whispered prayers in languages I didn't understand.

I stepped into the candlelight, and immediately Sisters turned to look at me.

"She came," someone whispered.

"The detective joined us."

"Welcome, sister."

Hands reached for me-gentle but insistent. They guided me deeper into the mass of bodies, their latex-free skin warm and soft against mine. Someone was unbuttoning my shirt. Someone else was pulling off my boots. My tactical pants were sliding down my hips.

And I let them.

I let them strip me bare, revealing my own enhanced body-smaller breasts than most, toned from years of combat training, a small tattoo on my hip, scars from old cases. They didn't care about my imperfections. They celebrated them.

"Beautiful," Sister Vera whispered, appearing before me. Her amber eyes were glazed with wine and arousal. "You're so beautiful, Kade."

She kissed me, and I kissed her back. Her mouth tasted like purple wine and something sweeter. Her small breasts pressed against mine, nipples hard, and I felt her sharp nails trace down my back.

Other hands joined hers. Mouths found my breasts-sucking, licking, biting gently. Fingers slid between my legs, finding me already wet, already ready. I gasped into Sister Vera's mouth as someone-I didn't know who-pushed two fingers inside me.

The pleasure was overwhelming. Every touch was magnified by the wine, every sensation electric. I was passed from Sister to Sister like a precious gift-each one taking time to taste me, touch me, bring me closer to the edge.

I stopped trying to count orgasms after the third.

Time became meaningless. Bodies blurred together. I found myself on my knees, my mouth on Sister Beatrice's pussy, tasting her while someone-Sister Camille, I think-worked her fingers inside me from behind. I was on my back, Sister Dominique's scarred face between my legs, her skilled tongue bringing me to another shuddering climax. I was against the fountain, purple wine flowing over my skin while Sister Vera kissed me and touched me and whispered "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" into my ear.

And then Mother Celestine was there.

She towered over me, her cock massive and fully erect, the tip glistening. She looked down at me with those violet eyes, and her smile was both tender and predatory.

"Would you like to taste divinity?" she asked softly.

I was on my knees before I realized I'd moved. The wine had stripped away all resistance, all judgment, all professional distance. There was only need.

I opened my mouth.

Mother Celestine guided her cock past my lips slowly, giving me time to adjust to her size. She was thick-almost too thick-stretching my jaw, the taste of her pre-cum coating my tongue. Sweet and chemical and intoxicating.

"That's it," she purred, one hand tangling in my hair. "Take it. All of it. Let me fill you."

She pushed deeper, and I relaxed my throat, taking her inch by inch. I could feel her pulse against my tongue, could feel the heat of her enhanced flesh. Around us, the other Sisters had stopped to watch, their faces flushed, their bodies still moving together but attention focused on us.

Mother Celestine began to move-long, slow strokes that had her cock sliding almost completely out before pushing back in. She was gentle at first, letting me find a rhythm, but as I grew more comfortable, she increased the pace.

"You were made for this," she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. "Made to serve. Made to worship. Made to transform."

I should have felt degraded. Used. But the wine had rewritten my responses, and all I felt was need. Need to please her. Need to taste more of her. Need to swallow what she would give me.

Her breathing quickened. Her grip on my hair tightened. Her cock swelled even larger in my mouth.

"I'm close," she warned. "When I come, you will swallow it all. Do you understand? Every drop. Let it transform you from the inside."

I couldn't answer with my mouth full, so I just looked up at her and nodded.

Mother Celestine threw her head back and came.

The first pulse of her cum hit the back of my throat-thick and hot and tasting like honey mixed with chemicals. I swallowed reflexively as she flooded my mouth, pulse after pulse, more than I thought possible. It overflowed my lips, running down my chin, and she pulled back slightly so the last spurts painted my face.

"Beautiful," she whispered, looking down at me covered in her cum. "Perfect. Mine."

The realization hit me like cold water.

She'd just dosed me with another concentration of the serum. Through her cum. Without warning. Without consent.

I should have been angry. Terrified. But the wine and pheromones were too strong, and all I felt was a spreading warmth through my body. A sensation of changing. Of becoming something more.

Mother Celestine helped me to my feet, her hands gentle. "Welcome to the sisterhood," she said softly. "You're one of us now."

Around us, the orgy continued, Sisters finding new partners, new pleasures. But Mother Celestine guided me away from the chaos, toward the fountain, where she sat on the edge and pulled me into her lap.

"Rest now," she whispered into my ear. "Let the transformation take hold. Tomorrow, you'll wake up different. Enhanced. More than you were. And you'll understand why we do this. Why we need the sacrament. Why we'll kill to protect it."

I tried to stay awake, tried to fight the drowsiness spreading through my limbs. But her cum was doing something to me, rewriting my chemistry, and darkness pulled me under.

My last conscious thought was the image of the male in the greenhouse.

The secret at the heart of everything.

The reason people were dying.

I woke in my own bed with no memory of how I got there.

Dawn light filtered through the window, gray and watery. My mouth tasted like honey and chemicals. My body ached in unfamiliar places.

And I was different.

I sat up slowly, my head pounding, and caught sight of myself in the small mirror above the dresser.

My eyes were different. Still gray-blue, but now they had a faint luminescence I'd never had before. My skin looked clearer, almost glowing. And when I focused, I could see more-ultraviolet spectrum opening up, infrared signatures visible in the cold room.

Mother Celestine had transformed me.

Without permission. Without consent. Just as I'd feared.

I was now part of what I was investigating. Compromised beyond recovery. Changed forever.

A soft knock on the door made me jump.

"Kade? Are you awake?"

Sister Vera.

I wrapped myself in the sheet and opened the door. She stood in the hallway in a fresh gray latex habit, her amber eyes filled with concern and guilt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have stopped you. Should have locked your door. But the wine-"

"It's not your fault." My voice sounded different to my own ears. Richer. Deeper.

"Mother Celestine dosed you." It wasn't a question. "I saw. We all saw." She looked at the floor. "She does that sometimes. When she wants someone to join us permanently. She gives them no choice."

"How long was I...?"

"About four hours. The ritual ended at three AM. Sister Dominique carried you back here." Sister Vera met my eyes. "Kade, I need to tell you something. About the greenhouse. About the secret."

Finally.

"There's a man there," I said quietly. "A pre-gamma male. I saw him during the ritual."

Sister Vera's face went white. "You saw Matthias?"

"Is that his name?"

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. "He's been here for three years. Hidden. Protected. If Argon Corp finds out about him, they'll take him. Use him for breeding experiments. He'll spend the rest of his life in a laboratory." Her voice broke. "We've been protecting him. All of us. It's our most sacred secret."

"And the three victims?"

"They all knew about him. Sister Therese worked with him in the greenhouse. Sister Lucia had... been with him. And Sister Margot-" She stopped, shaking. "Sister Margot was pregnant. With his child. The first pregnancy any of us had seen in years."

Everything clicked into place.

The murders weren't about the sacrament. They were about him. About jealousy, protection, possession, exposure.

And Sister Margot wasn't dead. She was transforming because she was carrying the most valuable child in the wasteland.

"I need to see him," I said. "Now. Before anyone else dies."

Sister Vera wiped her eyes and nodded. "I'll take you. But Kade-be careful. Matthias is... he's precious to us. If you try to take him, if you try to expose him to the authorities-"

"I just want the truth."

"The truth is, we'll kill to protect him." She met my eyes, and I saw the steel beneath her fear. "Even you."

To be continued in Chapter Three: Revelation