He looked upwards, as if inspecting the room's ornate plaster frieze.

'The Creator's ways are many and strange,' he said, as though talking to the shelf. 'We question, we think, and we question our thinking, trying to determine what is right, what is true and what is false, what is given from above and beyond and what comes from within.' I saw him shake his head, slowly. 'We cannot ever know completely, and eventually we have to stop questioning.' He fell silent.  He stood for a while, then nodded, again slowly.  His shoulders quivered, and he put his hands up to his eyes. 'Oh, Isis,' he said, his voice breaking. 'Is God always right?  I have always believed that They are, but…' His head bowed and his shoulders shook.

I stood and watched for a moment, then stepped forward, terribly aware of my nakedness, and stretched out my arms to put my hands on his shoulders.  He clamped his hands on mine, then turned quickly and faced me, pulling me closer until his full belly touched my flat one. 'We are wisps, Isis,' he hissed, taking me by the shoulders and gripping me tightly. 'We are reeds caught in the storm, pulled away by the flood; who are we to stand in Their way?'

I shook my head, hoping that my eyes weren't too wide. 'I don't know,' I said, for want of anything better.

He looked down in between us and nodded vigorously. 'Let us sit, Isis,' he said.

We sat; I in the lotus position, he on his haunches with his arms resting on his knees.  He looked me up and down, and I felt good and fine and pure and brazen at the same time, flushed with alcohol and God knows what.  He shook his head. 'Ah, Isis; you are the very vision!' he breathed.

'I am God's image, as are we all, in our own fashion,' I replied, my voice shaking.

'No, no; more than that,' he said breathlessly, still staring at my body. 'What God has said…' He looked up into my eyes and slowly spread his arms wide. 'Isis,' he said thickly, 'come to me…'

I parted from my lotus position and kneeled forward, tentatively extending my arms.  He took my hands in his and pulled me forward to him, enfolding me in his warmth and pushing my arms out above and to the side.

'Isis, Isis,' he said, burying his head between my breasts, breathing in hard.

'Grandfather,' I said into the clearing in the thicket of his hair that was his bald patch. 'What has God said?'

'Isis!' he said again, raising his head to mine and hugging me tighter so that I could feel each fold and roll of fat on his torso as I was pulled into him. 'Isis!' he said, rubbing his head from side to side between my breasts. 'We are in Their power, under Their control!  We must do as They say!'

His hands cupped my buttocks, kneading them.  He raised his head and brought his face up to mine. 'We must join our souls, child.  We must commune together!' He pushed his mouth towards mine.

'What?' I yelped, bringing my arms up to his shoulders to try and push him away. 'But, Grandfather!'

'I know!' he cried hoarsely, as his head turned this way and that, trying to bring our lips together. 'I know it seems wrong, but I hear Their voice!'

'But it's forbidden!' I said, straining at his shoulders, still trying to push him back.  He was forcing me over and down now, onto the bed beneath. 'We are two generations apart!'

'It was forbidden; it isn't any more.  That was a mistake.  The Voice was clear about that.' He pushed me down so that my back thumped onto the bed; I managed to wriggle my legs to one side so that I was half on my side to him.  He held me tightly round the waist, still trying to kiss me. 'Don't you see, Isis?  This is meant.  We are the Elect; the chosen ones.  The rules are different for us.  This is holy; this is ordained by God.'

'But you're my Grandfather!' I cried, bringing one hand up to my face to push his seeking, probing lips away.  One of his hands was trying to push down to my belly; I held it with my other hand.

'Isis!  We don't have to take any notice of the Unsaved's stupid rules!  We're marked out, we're special, we can do what we want and what God decrees!  What have their stupid rules and regulations got to do with our Holy Purpose?'

I was still wrestling with his hand as it tried to push down to my groin; his bearded face was panting and sweating above me; he kissed my lips for a moment but I twisted my head away.

'But I don't want to do this!' I wailed.

'Want?' he laughed bitterly. 'What has what either of us want got to do with this?  We do what God tells us to do!  We both have to submit to Their will, Isis!  We both have to submit!  We both have to trust; trust and believe!  You promised to trust; you promised to trust and believe, remember?'

'But not this!'

'Is your love of God conditional then, Isis?' he asked breathlessly, still trying to work his sweat-slicked hand between my legs.  His breathing was very quick and urgent now and his face was bright red. 'Do you only do what God insists you do when it suits you?  Is that it?  Is it?'

'No!' I spluttered, my own breathing becoming difficult as his weight bore down on me. 'But this must be a false signal!  God would not demand this!'

'What?  An act of love?  What is that to demand?  Did Buddha hesitate to renounce all his worldly goods?  Did Mohammed hesitate to take up arms and make war?  Did Abraham not take his son to the mountain to kill him, because God demanded it?  Would he not have done so if God had not stopped him?  All They demand here is an act of love, Isis; an act of love, to prove we are both true!  We both must submit!'  He gave a grunt and twisted his hand free of mine; it dived between my tightly clenched legs, trying to finger my sex; I heaved and wriggled out from underneath him, rolling away over the bed; he grabbed at me, catching my ankle as I tried to stand, bringing me down on all fours. 'Submit, Isis, submit!  Prove your love for God!' He tried to mount me from behind but I wrestled him off.

'This is not you!' I shouted, and scuttled away, grabbing up my clothes as I stood on the bed's unsteady surface. 'God could not ask this!'

My Grandfather kneeled on the bed, his engorged manhood poking up at the underside of his belly like a supporting strut.  His face set into an expression I had never seen before: a look of furious, seething loathing that produced a terrible feeling of emptiness and sickness in me.

'You would deny God then, Isis?' he said thickly.  I backed into a closed door; it was the one to the bathroom, not the exit to the sitting room; he was between me and it.  He spread his arms wide. 'You would deny the sacrament that is the holy joy of souls' communion.''

I leaned back against the door and pulled on one leg of my trousers. 'If God wanted this They would have spoken to me as well,' I said.

'They spoke to me!' he roared, thumping himself on his chest with one fist.  He lunged at me as I stood on one leg to put my other leg in the trousers.  I'd half expected he would, and so was ready for him.  I jumped to one side and escaped him but dropped my jacket and socks onto the bed.  I hopped across the bed, dragging on the trousers and pulling them up, my shirt wedged under one armpit.  I had a clear run at the door to the outside now.  I stood there, breathing hard and looking at him as he stood up by the bathroom door, a pale shadow in the flickering candlelight; his chest and belly heaved with every breath.  His penis had gone limp now.  He wiped his face with one hand.

'You Judas,' he breathed.

'Grandfather, please-' I began, pulling on my shirt.

'You heathen!' he rasped, a tiny fleck of spittle arcing through the air caught in the candlelight. 'Apostate!  Infidel!  Misbeliever!  You Unsaved wretch!'

'This is not fair, Grandfather,' I said, my voice almost breaking.  I tucked in my shirt tails. 'You are-'