"Very good." Shannon double-checked the barriers he'd raised to keep her from the refuge of insanity, then he released his other compulsions. She reacted beautifully, her expression turning from pleasure to revulsion as she retreated from him, turning to run but falling to her knees racked with convulsions of nausea.
Shannon's attention returned to his surroundings. He'd left St. Ignatius then, thoroughly satisfied with the interlude, and memories of Sister Piety had cheered him several times since. It was an interlude he dared not repeat now, though. Cortin might sense something as simple as using his power to modify his physical attributes, and now that she was personally aware of him thanks to the attack, she'd have to sense his use of it on others.
Return to main storyline: [3. Center]
4a. Shannon's Reaction
Shannon had decided to take advantage of Cortin's skill during the afternoon session. It had been some time since he'd combined his two preferences purely for pleasure instead of as an "object lesson"—since Piety, in fact—and he was overdue for some recreation. He'd told his aide he was tired and would be napping after lunch; Cortin would provide the violence, Victor the sex. Victor was homo, raised in a family that saw the Church's increased tolerance in the last two and a half centuries as abhorrent. But Victor couldn't deny his drives; the best he could do was conceal them, feeling guilt whenever they became strong enough to make him take action.
Shannon had picked him for that, perhaps more than for his administrative ability, then arranged for Victor to find him apparently asleep, naked. Since then he could count on the man sneaking into his room several times a week; it relieved some of the tension, and Victor's guilt not only added spice to the affair, it made him even more devoted to the one he thought he was victimizing. And, Shannon thought smugly, he couldn't possibly be faulted for being an innocent victim.
Stretched out, with only a sheet covering him, Shannon waited for Victor to decide he was asleep. In the meantime, he considered the two ordinations that had just taken place. He found them abhorrent, even though he was aware of their necessity. His continued existence could well depend on four humans who would, except for the approaching invaders, be major enemies—two here, one in the Terran Empire, and one currently dead. Three of the four, to his disgust, had to be priests of the Crucified One. That was galling enough, but the worst part was that he had to promote faith himself! Not necessarily in that particular deity, though it would benefit most, he thought bitterly. There were times he was tempted to rebel again, tell the Adversary to do it all, instead of having to drive people toward that one, rather than urge them away as he preferred. Existence, though, wasn't something to be given up, even if maintaining it meant doing some things he found truly repugnant.