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The clergy paid for this sick bastard’s little office space with solid wood floors, lace curtains, and a cushioned office chair, so he could jerk off watching the rape and murder of innocent women and children.
I would have taken the username and passwords from this asshole already, but the system has a record of the IP address, device, and browser the member used during registration. Access is denied if a single one of these variables changes.
It’s been thirteen hours since Amethyst left, thinking I’d subjected her to the worst possible betrayal. I didn’t understand when she asked me if I’d ever rendered her unconscious withchloroform. It was a fantasy we’d discussed on the phone, by letter, and agreed to in our sex contract.
If I had known there was a video floating about where a man impersonating me invited others to violate her body, I would have helped her track them down and handed her the knife she’d use to slice off their balls.
“There,” the reverend says, his voice breaking me out of my thoughts. “This is the main forum, where we chat with other members. Do you want me to show you the videos?”
“Is Amethyst…” I shake my head, not allowing myself to believe they’re the same person. Not until I have concrete proof. “Is Dolly in any of them?”
“No.”
“Then show me the thread where they’re discussing the next production.”
Reverend Thomas navigates a labyrinth of members-only threads, each title more disturbing than the last. I grind my teeth, seething at the glimpses of depravity lurking among the members. I want a list of their names, addresses, careers—every piece of information I can use to expose these monsters to the world.
There’s a difference between me and these men. I don’t gain sexual gratification from the suffering of women, unless they’re Amethyst and I’m making her orgasm.
“Project March Lily,” he says, and clicks on the thread. “This is where they were asking for auditions.”
“What does March Lily mean?” Jynxson asks.
“It’s usually a nickname for the victims,” the reverend explains, his voice trembling. “The last one was Jersey Lily, who was really Joanna Mazek.”
It takes a second to register that as Lizzie Bath’s real name.
Jynxson snatches the mouse and scrolls down the screen to a post where one of the members asks about auditioning.Underneath, Delta responds that he’ll select from a pool of candidates who have uploaded their auditions to the video page.
“What’s required for these auditions?” I snarl.
Reverend Thomas shivers. “Anything, really,” he replies, his voice choked. He clears his throat, then adds, “As long as it’s in line with the members’ tastes.”
I grab the back of his neck, making him flinch. “Elaborate.”
“It can be violent… She can be unconscious… Underage?—”
“Enough,” I snap, already regretting having asked. “How about murder?”
“That will earn you a speaking part,” he replies. “And the chance to fuck the actress.”
I punch him in the back of the head, the impact crashing his face into the monitor. “Victims, not actresses.”
“Any other ways to get a front row seat at the shoot?” Jynxson asks through clenched teeth, sounding already impatient that I’m breaking all the rules to terrorize a willing subject.
Reverend Thomas slumps back in his seat and groans. “Some members have too much to lose and don’t want to risk filming themselves doing anything illegal. Others don’t have the guts. Anyone willing to pay two hundred and fifty thousand to help fund the production can watch from the sidelines.”
My heart skips, and my breath hitches. Jynxson and I exchange glances. We can take advantage of this opening.
“Is that all you get for that money?” I ask, my voice quickening.
“There’s usually some kind of drinks reception before the shoot, followed by an afterparty.”
“Are plus ones allowed?” Jynxson asks.
“No.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. A lack of invitation doesn’t matter. This won’t be the first time we’ve forced our way intoa clandestine operation. All we need is the date, time, and location.
