Excerpt from
"Unbeliever" from Bell, Book and Dyke

© Karin Kallmaker, 2005

No portion of this work may be reproduced by any means
without express written consent of the publisher.

From Chapter 1

“Aurora Lowell.” Kylie stretched her feet toward the fire as she picked at her dinner. “She’s hot and she’s gay.”

Kylie’s frank assessment startled me. “How would you know? Are you finally coming around to my way of thinking about sex?”

“We got her On Our Backs.” Kylie’s wan face lit with a teasing smile. “Good article about G-spot stimulation.” She took a shaky breath as a laugh threatened. “You girls aren’t shy.”

“No,” I agreed. “When it comes to pleasure and the female body, I think we dykes lead the way.”

“Pity I never tried.”

Oh, how I agreed. Our father’s attempts to indoctrinate both of us into his Temple of Righteousness had failed utterly with me, but Kylie had been attracted to something in it. The ritual, the comfort of knowing your spiritual place in the order of things, whatever it might be for her, I didn’t understand it. But I firmly believed that it had kept Kylie from exploring her sexuality fully. “Honestly, I can say there are a few high points to it, though I’ve not often experienced them.”

“You should ask her out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hayley.”

I looked up from my monitor. “What?”

She gazed at me for a minute before saying, “I won’t be here forever.”

My eyes stung with sudden tears. “I know that. I want to spend all the time with you I can.”

“I worry about you.”

“Don’t waste the energy, I’m fine.”

“When was the last time you laughed?”

“Today, reading the latest government promises to build unity between the parties.”

“Danced?”

I shrugged.

“Fucked?”

“And your point?”

“Life’s short, even if you live to be a hundred.” She set her barely touched dinner to one side. “I wish I’d tried a lot of things.”

I surreptitiously dabbed at my eyes. “Such as?”

“Xstasy—wish I’d tried it.”

“You’re not serious!”

“Just once. And I wish…I’d danced naked around a bonfire.”

“Sounds fun until the cops show up.”

“There was a woman who loved me.”

I blinked. “Really? I mean, I’m not surprised, but you never mentioned it.”

“I wish I’d said yes. I think…” She turned her head to gaze into the fire. “Wasting love is a real sin.”

“Didn’t you love what’s-his-name? In college. You wore his ring for a while.”

“I think I did. I got sick and he left.” She shrugged, or at least I thought the tiny movement of her shoulders was a shrug. Then I realized she was crying.

I held her gently against me, trying not to cry myself. One of us had to be strong, but so close to her I could feel our hearts beating in the same rhythm. Her depression echoed in me.

“I’m so scared, Hayley.”

“I know.”

“What happens afterward? Where am I going?”

I cursed my academic mind that could so easily distance me from the emotion in her plea. It was the eternal question of all societies. But this was not some theoretical discussion—this was Kylie.

And there was no comfort I could give her, no superstition or faith that she would believe from me. Kylie hadn’t been shocked when I said I’d been to bed with one of her teammates in high school, but she’d turned ashen when I’d announced I did not believe in God. There was no tale of Cloud Nine or Heaven Hereafter that I could convincingly offer. Our father would pour her full of his assurances that there was a Plan for us all, and when she surrendered to the Will she would be Healed or Taken, according to the Design.

That was why he did not know how sick Kylie was. If our mother had still been alive I’d have told her. But not him—he’d take Kylie away to pray for healing and forgiveness because only a sinner was struck down. In his world, the sicker Kylie got, the more it must be Kylie’s fault.

I held her tight until she cried herself out, then helped her to bed, feeling utterly inadequate.

It was barely nine o’clock and there was certainly work I could do. The study always seemed quiet and dark after Kylie left, as if she still cast light wherever she went. Bast made a huge show of loving me, but I knew she was really after the warmth from the computer monitor. We settled which part of the desk I’d be able to work on and she curled up, watching me with her pleased yellow eyes.

The damn mystery book took up too much space. I didn’t know how to send it back from whence it came, and I could hardly spend another long night poring over pages that only revealed themselves by firelight. The scribe had been very clever, to be sure, but it was useless to me.

I pushed it away, then decided I could at least get it off my desk. Next to the fire would be fine. I’d show Kylie the writing tomorrow night. As I set it down I saw the remnants of my ill-begun letter to my father and cast it wearily into the flames. I sank down in the chair with the book on my lap, warming my hands, and considered what to do next.

I jumped when Bast brushed past my ankles with her “I want out of this room” yowl. I had no recollection of opening the book, but it was on my lap and I was tilted awkwardly toward the firelight to make the writing visible. I shut it, annoyed with myself, and then gasped in pain as I tried to stand. My left leg was asleep and my back stiff.

Stamping to get the circulation going in my leg, I stared in amazement at the clock. It was past midnight. And yet I’d just sat down.

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Bell, Book and Dyke: New Exploits of Magical Lesbians is a collaboration between Karin Kallmaker, Barbara Johnson, Therese Szymanski and Julia Watts, comprised of lesbian erotica novellas with a variety of themes about lesbian spirtuality and lesbian magic. Part of the New Exploits series. Available from: