February 26th, 1723
We near a time of conjunction, the season when goats will breed and give birth is nearly on us, and I must make ready. The true education of Atohi has gone swifter than I had hoped, her natural inclination towards lust and anger give her the truest path towards the worship of the Holy Mother. I have decided that when it is time, that she will be given to the Thousandth Child and bring the Mother’s offspring into this place, it is only fitting that I reward such slavish devotion. Of course, the changes in such a new convert are harder to hide, and I have taken to keeping her hidden from the rest of the mission as much as I am able.
With bringing Atohi into the fold as a true believer, my true mission has become much easier. Atohi is a comely young woman, able to snare the attention of the male tribesmen, and they, in turn, take what they learn in her bed to the rest of their people. I take Atohi’s presence and place within my mission as a sign that the Holy Mother is pleased, despite the absolute proof that my Goddess is real, it is rare that such clear signs of favor are bestowed upon us.
Today I had to deal with Father Paulo. With the time of mating coming fast, I can no longer abide his rousing of suspicion. He continued to speak to others of his doubts, and twice now I had caught him poking through my study. If Paulo understood how alone he was here, how many of us there were . . . I wonder if his faith in God would force him to stay the course, or if he would have run through the forests and wilderness until devoured by some earthly creature. I could not risk that he would stay of course.
Today I found him in my study reaching into my desk, while I was not there, his hands groping for the idol he had seen during our last talk. Of course, it wasn’t there, I had removed it and placed it on an altar in a more private place. As he rifled through my belongings I had a clear sense of what was needed.
“Father Paulo.” If you could have seen the way he lept, sudden fear gripping him, I am lucky he did not void his bowels in my study with how he reacted. “May I help you?” He stammered some excuse, looking for papers for another priest on communications with the church or some such. I was hardly listening, the excitement of the moment had me in its grip. I nodded, play-acting at understanding, and explained that I was happy to see him, as I actually had need of his assistance in finishing out a conversion with a native. He was suspicious I could tell, but, hopeful, he still wanted to see the good, wanted to believe that his mission was our mission.
I led him through the mission to the larder, despite being a good deal older than him, it was a simple thing to overpower him, distracted as he was by the preserved remains of Atohi’s human lovers. As he slumped down, dazed from my blow, our mission’s chef, Gilberto shuffled in, the man could hardly be called so anymore, showing such signs of the Mother’s favor that he had to wear a heavy apron and hood to hide what he was becoming.
“No Gilberto, this one is not to become food, this one will live, but silence him.” I stayed and watched as Gilberto cut Paulo’s tongue from his screaming mouth. That tongue had caused many problems when Gilberto offered it, I happily took it and bit into the thick meat, relishing the taste of his accusations as they filled my mouth. Between chews, I explained to him, that despite his constant irritations, I would bestow upon him the great honor of being involved in the rites of the Holy Mother. His further screams were such a sweet sound I shall never forget.