“I’m seeing those ringbolts everywhere,” I said with a frown. “Is there some kind of pagan sacrifices being consummated on my estate? I’ll allow no devilry here!”
“Nothing at all like you imagine,” Chalmers said with a sincere laugh. “We celebrate life, not death; and the joining of live bodies, not dead ones. The only blood sacrifices here are made to the mosquitoes, and other biting insects. Whatever poor soul is chained down on that platform, or against that pillar, will discover their number and appetite is endless.” He glanced at the now-perpetual bulge in my trousers and lay his hand on my arm, “Our practices may seem severe to you at first, but I beg you to be patient and you will share in everything that happens here.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a flask. “Thir
