I Do, Babe Read online

  I Do, Babe

  A Hades Hangmen Novella

  Tillie Cole

  Copyright© Tillie Cole 2017 All rights reserved

  Copyediting by Stephanie Marshall Ward

  Cover Design by Damonza at www.damonza.com

  Formatting by Stephen Jones

  Ebook Edition

  No Part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  Dedication

  To Styx and Mae.

  Thank you for inspiring this series.

  Contents Page

  Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Author Biography

  Playlist

  Follow Tillie

  Glossary

  (Not in alphabetical order)

  The Order Terminology

  The Order: Apocalyptic New Religious Movement. Beliefs based on selected Christian teachings, strongly believe the apocalypse is imminent. Previously led by Prophet David (declared himself to be a Prophet of God and a descendant of King David), the elders and the disciples. Succeeded by Prophet Cain (nephew of Prophet David).

  The members live together in a secluded commune; based on traditional and modest living, polygamy and unorthodox religious practices. Believe the ‘outside world’ is sinful and evil. Have no contact with non-members.

  Commune: Property owned by The Order and controlled by Prophet Cain. Segregated living community. Policed by disciples and elders and stocked with weapons in case of an outside world attack. Men and women kept in separate areas of the commune. The Cursed kept away from all men (except the elders) in their own private quarters. Land protected by a large perimeter fence.

  New Zion: New Commune of The Order. Created after the previous commune was destroyed in the battle against The Hades Hangmen.

  The Order’s Elders (Original Commune): Comprises four men: Gabriel (deceased), Moses (Deceased), Noah (deceased), Jacob (deceased), Charged with the day-to-day running of the commune. Second in Command to Prophet David (deceased). Responsible for schooling the Cursed.

  New Zion Council Elders: Men of elevated status in New Zion. Appointed by Prophet Cain.

  Prophet’s Hand: Position held by Brother Judah (deceased).

  Second in command to Prophet Cain. Shares in the running of New Zion and any religious, political or military decisions concerning The Order.

  Disciple Guards: Male members of The Order. Tasked with the protection of the commune lands and the members of The Order.

  Lord’s Sharing: Ritual sexual act performed between male and female members of The Order. Believed to help the male get steadily closer to the Lord. Performed in mass ceremonies. Narcotics often used for a transcendental experience. Females are forbidden from experiencing pleasure as punishment for carrying the original sin of Eve and must perform the act when required as part of their sisterly duties.

  Awakening: Rite of Passage in The Order. On a girl’s eighth birthday, she is to be sexually ‘awakened’ by a commune member or, on special occasions, an Elder.

  Sacred Circle: Religious practice exploring the notion of ‘free love’. Sexual intercourse and behavior with many partners in a public setting.

  Sacred Sister: A chosen woman of The Order, tasked with leaving the commune to spread The Order’s message by sexual means.

  The Cursed: Women/Girls in The Order deemed too naturally beautiful and inherently sinful. Live separately from the rest of commune. Seen as too tempting to men. The Cursed are believed to be significantly more likely to sway men from the righteous path.

  Original Sin: Augustine Christian doctrine that says mankind is born sinful and has an innate urge to disobey God. Original Sin is the result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience of God when they ate the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. In The Order’s doctrines (created by Prophet David), Eve is blamed for tempting Adam to sin, thus sisters of The Order are seen as born seductresses and temptresses and must therefore obey men.

  Sheol: Old Testament word meaning ‘the pit’ or ‘the grave’ or ‘the Underworld’. Place of the dead.

  Glossolalia: Incomprehensible speech displayed by religious believers during an episode of religious ecstasy. Embracing the Holy Spirit.

  Diaspora: The dispersion of people from their original homeland.

  Hill of Perdition: Hill on the outskirts of the commune. Used for seclusions of New Zion’s inhabitants and for punishments.

  Devil’s Men: Reference to the Hades Hangmen MC.

  Prophet’s Consort: Female chosen by Prophet Cain to aid him sexually. Elevated status in New Zion.

  Prophet’s Head Consort: Appointed by Prophet Cain. Elevated status in New Zion. Closest consort to the prophet. Sexual partner of choice.

  Celestial Meditation: The act of spiritual sexual intercourse. Believed in and practiced by members of The Order. Reaching a closer connection to God through sexual release.

  Repatriation: To bring back a person to his or her country or land. The Repatriation of The Order involves bringing back all the members of the faith to New Zion from foreign communes.

  First Touch: The first act of sexual intercourse with a virginal female.

  Hades Hangmen Terminology

  Hades Hangmen: One-percenter Outlaw MC. Founded in Austin, Texas, 1969.

  Hades: Lord of the Underworld in Greek mythology.

  Mother Chapter: First branch of the club. Founding location.

  One-percenter: The American Motorbike Association (AMA) were once rumored to have said that 99% of bikers were law-abiding citizens. Bikers who do not abide by AMA rules name themselves ‘one-percenters’ (the remaining non law-abiding 1%). The vast majority of ‘one-percenters’ belong to Outlaw MC’s.

  Cut: Leather vest worn by outlaw bikers. Adorned with patches and artwork displaying the club’s unique colors.

  Patched in: When a new member is approved for full membership.

  Church: Club meetings for full patch members. Led by President of the club.

  Old Lady: Woman with wife status. Protected by her partner. Status held to be sacrosanct by club members.

  Club Slut: A woman who comes to the clubhouse to engage in casual sexual acts with the club members.

  Bitch: Woman in Biker culture. Term of endearment.

  Gone/Going to Hades: Slang. Referring to the dying/dead.

  Meeting/Gone/Going to the Boatman: Slang. Dying/dead. Referring to ‘Charon’ in Greek mythology. Charon was the ferryman of the dead, an underworld daimon (Spirit). Transported departed souls to Hades. The fee for the crossing over the rivers Styx and Acheron to Hades were coins placed on either the dead’s eyes or mouth at burial. Those who did not pay the
fee were left to wander the shores of Styx for one hundred years.

  Snow: Cocaine.

  Ice: Crystal Meth.

  Smack: Heroin

  The Organizational Structure of Hades Hangmen

  President (Prez): Leader of the club. Holder of the Gavel, which is symbolic of the absolute power that the President wields. The Gavel is used to keep order in Church. The word of the President is law within the club. He takes advice from senior club members. No one challenges the decisions of the President.

  Vice President (VP): Second-in-Command. Executes the orders of the President. Principal communicator with other chapters of the club. Assumes all responsibilities and duties of the President in his absence.

  Road Captain: Responsible for all club runs. Researches, plans and organizes club runs and ride outs. Ranking club officer, answering only to President or VP.

  Sergeant-at-Arms: Responsible for club security, policing and keeping order at club events. Reports unseemly behavior to President and VP. Responsible for the safety and protection of the club, its members and its Prospects.

  Treasurer: Keeps records of all income and expenses. Keeps records of all club patches and colors issued and taken away.

  Secretary: Responsible for making and keeping all club records. Must notify members of emergency meetings.

  Prospect: Probationary member of the MC. Goes on runs, but banned from attending Church.

  Prologue

  Styx

  Hangmen Compound, Austin, Texas

  Age Twelve

  “Fuck. Seen the tits on that?”

  I looked across the yard to see who Ky was pointing at. Some blond club slut sat on my old man’s lap.

  “That’s the type of bitch I’m gonna marry. Tall, blond, hot with massive tits.” He shrugged. “That’s if I marry. Ain’t sure I want a ball and chain tied to my ankle all my life. I want uncomplicated, no nutcases, no stage-five clingers, and a bitch that sucks my cock whenever I fucking tell her to.”

  I laughed and shook my head. He was always like this.

  “And you?” he asked with his cocky fucking smile.

  I signed, “Black hair. Pale skin and ice-blue wolf eyes.”

  Ky’s smile immediately dropped, and he threw his head back dramatically. “Argh! Not this shit again!”

  “I answered your fucking question. That’s who I’m gonna marry. The wolf-eyed bitch I met behind the fence,” I signed. I could talk to her, asshole. You know what that means to me? I wanted to add on. . . but didn’t.

  “Yeah, well good luck finding her, Styx. I’m still convinced you got bit by a snake in the long grass and fucking hallucinated the whole thing.”

  “What you two cocksuckers talkin’ ’bout?” My old man stood before us. He had fucking hickeys all over his neck and his newest slut’s red lipstick smeared all over his mouth.

  “Getting married,” Ky said.

  My old man frowned. “Better not be to each other. Fucking queers ain’t welcome in my club.”

  “Yeah,” Ky said dryly. “Can’t get enough of Styx’s chub in my mouth. Tastes like chocolate.”

  My old man slapped Ky across the head.

  “Ow!” he hissed and held up his hand when my old man came back for more. “Calm the fuck down. I was just saying I liked the club slut you were tongue deep in. Hot. Good tits. All that shit.”

  “Yeah?” My old man shrugged. “I’ll be done with her by tonight. Have at her pussy all you want after that.” He laughed. “If your dick is even big enough yet to fill her hole.”

  Ky smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Plenty big enough, Prez. And she’ll know it when I make her scream.”

  My old man’s eyes fell on me. “And you? Who the fuck did my mute-ass retard son say he’d marry?”

  I stared at the fucker with hard eyes, saying shit-all to answer his question.

  “Wolf eyes,” Ky said. I fucking glared at the prick, but the asshole just winked at me and stuck out his tongue. He knew he’d just dropped me in shit.

  “Not this again,” my pop said. “Not only do I have a retarded son, but he’s obsessed with some baby slut he dreamed up outta nowhere.” He shook his head, then leaned down. “I’ll tell you fuckers one thing: don’t ever fucking get married. Worst mistake I ever made.” He pointed to me. “His momma was a slut, and once she left with that Diablo scum and I finally killed her, I was fucking free. All the pussy I want now. The perk of being the prez of the best fucking MC this country ever saw.” He looked at me again. Then the asshole kept laughing until he walked back to Ky’s pop and his slut for the night.

  “Styx—”Before Ky could talk I was off my seat and heading toward the clubhouse. I was pissed as fuck. “Styx!” Ky shouted louder. “I was only fucking with you, brother!” But I flipped him the bird and held it up until I turned the corner and was out of sight.

  The mural of Hades and Persephone that graced our club’s wall stared back at me. I walked closer, staring at Persephone. The bitch had long black hair and ice-blue eyes . . . fucking wolf eyes like that bitch behind the fence.

  She was real.

  I knew she was.

  As I stared at Persephone—the perfect image of what Wolf Eyes would look like when she was older—I knew I hadn’t imagined shit. I had seen her—crying, pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a damn pilgrim dress. And when I looked at Persephone with Hades, the fucker looking just like me, I knew I’d find her again.

  Because I’d spoken to her.

  The bitch with the wolf eyes . . .

  Chapter One

  Styx

  Several weeks until the wedding . . .

  I threw my cut down on the kitchen table and rolled my neck. My shoulders were stiff from all the fucking weights I’d been hitting in the gym, and I was dog tired from the runs we’d had to do of late.

  Gun contracts were back, courtesy of the cult being fucking gone. Every fucker that had left us had come crawling back with their tails between their legs, practically offering to suck our cocks. So I had done what any good prez would do. I’d charged the traitorous cunts double and spat in their ugly faces.

  Money was rolling in.

  Club shit was calming down.

  Prospects were doing good.

  Life was back to normal.

  And I still couldn’t fucking speak.

  I kicked off my boots, tossed my tank over my head, and dropped it to the floor. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and made my way through the kitchen to the living room. Lying on the couch, fast asleep, was Mae. I slung back my beer and stepped toward her. Her jet-black hair was splayed out over one of the ridiculous pillows she’d put all around the cabin to make it more “homey” or some shit.

  She wore a long sleeveless black dress with my cut, my fucking name, on her back. Her mouth was slightly open, her pouting pink lips just waiting for my mouth to take them.

  But I didn’t. I let her sleep, my fucking black heart cracking some when I saw her hand cupping her pregnant stomach. Cradling our fucking kid. Unable to stay the fuck away from this bitch for a damn second, I sat down on the edge of the couch and stroked the hair back from her face.

  She shifted, a damn small smile pulling on her mouth. This time I did kiss her. But she didn’t wake. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, all she did was sleep. Out like a light, practically unable to wake during a damn storm. Even I, the miserable bastard that I was, couldn’t help but smile when she didn’t even blink.

  Fucking loved this bitch. Best thing that’d ever happened to me.

  Sipping on my Bud, I caught sight of a notepad on the side table. I picked it up and, as I scanned her perfect cursive writing, my fucking heart dropped.

  I did not know what life was until I found you. The boy who came into my life as a child. The boy with no voice who miraculously found words in my presence. The boy who kissed me on my lips, blessing me with the foreign, u
nreachable concept of hope.

  The boy I was always destined to love.

  The boy who held the sweetest music in his heart, who saved me, and showed me what it was to be home . . .

  I set down the notepad and ran my hand down my face.

  They were her vows. Her motherfucking wedding vows.

  Needing a smoke more than I needed my next breath, I walked through the kitchen and out the door. I slumped into a chair on the porch and lit up a smoke. I took a long drag and opened my mouth. Breathing deeply, I let the nicotine calm my boiling blood.

  “I . . . I . . . R-R-Riv . . . Riv . . . argh!” I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, trying to calm the fuck down. I’d tried this every day for damn weeks. And every time I thought about standing up in front of my brothers and my old lady and actually speaking, my retarded throat closed, and the stutter that had never fucked off outta my life came back to cut me off.

  I took drag after drag of my smoke and waited for my throat to relax. It didn’t. Instead Mae’s notepad came to mind, and her words taunted me like a sick joke.

  The boy with no voice who miraculously found words in my presence. The boy who kissed me on my lips, blessing me with the foreign concept of hope . . .