The Dark Sacrifice: A Horror Novel

by Jay Bower

  “I asked why, maggot! Too good to answer me? You’ll learn soon enough. They all do.”

  Patrick was caught in a trance. He wanted to run, to scream, to do anything other than face this thing and listen to its evil taunts.

  “Do you want to end up like him?” it asked, pointing toward Jacob. Patrick’s eyes widened at the crushed face and empty, bloody cavern of his corpse.

  “Leave them alone,” it said, “or you end up like him. I have given my orders. You will learn, or you will face the consequences. He knows, and he will appease. It is the way,” it hissed. Patrick couldn’t distinguish its features from the dark. The strong force grabbed hold of his neck and squeezed. He gasped for air, clawing at his throat to free himself. He felt lightheaded. The force let go, dropping him to the ground, gasping.

  “You will obey me. You will do as I say, or I will take you. I promise, you don’t want that.”

  In the distance, Benny called his name. He had to warn him to stay away, but the invisible force paralyzed him. This thing would kill him.

  He felt a sharp stab at his forehead, needlelike into his skull. Suddenly, all reality around him warped. The black woods vanished, replaced by red columns of flames and molten rock. He stood on a ledge overlooking a vast expanse of flames. Around him were vile dark red and black creatures. Their disfigured bodies were grotesque with mutilated appendages. One flapped its blood red wings. Another had a face devoid of skin, its teeth chattering away in a horrible cacophony. Flames danced, seeking to devour him. They raged hot and vicious, lapping at his feet, and singeing his arms.

  Then the creatures around him disappeared and he was alone in the raging inferno. He sensed something behind him and turned quickly. Before him stood a large demon with wings extended, giving it an even larger presence. Patrick could feel the evil emanate from it. It opened its mouth and roared, exposing three sets of razor-sharp teeth. Its shriek was hideous. Patrick covered his ears, but the high-pitch pierced his hands, rendering them useless to block the sound. His soul shook.

  “Where am I?” he yelled. His voice echoed back at him. New voices repeated his cry, mocking him.

  The demon stepped forward and raised a black-nailed claw, gently placing Patrick’s head in its large hand and running its nails across Patrick’s face in a horrible caress. The hand squeezed, jerking Patrick’s head upwards to stare in his eyes. The demon’s red eyes pierced his soul, probing deep within, seeking the fear growing larger. Its mouth didn’t move, but inside his head he heard the hissing voice.

  “This is what awaits those who disobey. Do as commanded and you shall be spared. Remember and live. Forget and find torment for eternity.” Patrick’s head was wrenched to the side and he saw three prisoners tied to a rock wall. They were struck with razor-sharp rocks and whipped with leather strips. Each cry brought ecstasy to the tormentors, who only hit harder as the screams rose higher. Blood sprayed as the creatures continued the beating. The prisoners tried fervently to rip their bonds free. Blood ran down their arms, sending the creatures into an even greater frenzy.

  Patrick heard the hissing voice again in his head. “This is what awaits disobedience. Do not fail me. He has yet to forget. You will not be the first. You will do as I command.”

  Fear coursed through Patrick as he lost hope. He felt impotent. He wanted to cry out, but there was no one around to care. Doing so would only make the creatures swell with power and excitement. He raised his hands to his eyes, wanting to gouge them out and erase the vision. He wanted to pierce his eardrums to stop the screaming.

  “You wish it to end, but it never will,” the voice hissed. “Obey me and this is not your fate. I have given my promise. Follow my commands, maggot, and avoid this.”

  Patrick’s view shifted, and he found himself lying on the ground gazing at a starry night sky. The inside of his skull pounded. His forehead pulsed like he’d been struck with a sledgehammer. His hearing was muffled. He couldn’t turn his head; his stiff neck made movement impossible. His arms were sore and unresponsive. He stared up into the night.

  Benny’s face peered over him. Patrick tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. He lost the sensation in his lips. He could see that Benny was talking, but it was like his ears were full of cotton. He tried to read Benny’s lips and made out, “all right,” and, “okay,” though nothing else. The pain in his skull superseded everything. He closed his eyes tightly. A hand pushed on his chest. His eyes flashed open to see Benny above him, trying to move him and shake him free from his stupor. Benny walked away and returned with a flashlight. For a moment, the beam blinded Patrick. When he took it away, bright white spots floated in Patrick’s vision. He tried to speak or scream to let Benny know he could feel, but nothing came out.

  He worried he might be paralyzed.

  He thought about Noah. His boy deserved better than this.

  More faces appeared in front of Patrick. Several flashlights aimed in his eyes. Slowly, as his lifeless body was loaded onto a makeshift stretcher, his hearing cleared. Bit by bit, he heard voices. Words were coherent and relief came over him. He tried to flex his hands, but they still refused to work. He saw the trees move past him and he realized they were dragging him out.

  Patrick wasn’t one for religion. He believed there was a greater force at work in the world, but he wasn’t sold on God. He didn’t voice his opinion, as it tended to only get him involved in heated debates he had no intention of arguing. But as he was brought out of the woods, he prayed to a God he didn’t know. He prayed to a God he wasn’t sure would listen. He had no other choice. He didn’t know what else to do.

  When he was out of the woods, his hearing was back completely, yet he still couldn’t control his mouth or any other motor skills. He heard them talk about admitting him and about how they found poor Jacob. Benny told the other officers and the paramedics about the bears. He heard Benny explain how they’d arrived on another scene like this not too long ago.

  Inside his head, Patrick yelled until his voice went hoarse, but not a sound came from his lips. He heard the cries from the two other kids as they pulled Jacob’s faceless body from the trees. Gasps were followed by sobs and prayers. Patrick wanted so badly to be free from whatever held him captive, trapping him in a body that ignored all attempts to move. The desperate cries of the kids pained him. He wanted to tell them what had happened, to tell them all about the visions forced on him.

  Benny’s voice grew closer until his face was in view. “Can you hear me, Patty?” he asked. Benny stood, waiting for a response. “Well, if you can, you better be ready.” He bent down close to Patrick’s ear.

  His whisper was low and menacing. “The time is coming soon, Patty. You know, and you will follow through. It’s been ordained.” He gave Patrick one last stare with his cold eyes and walked away.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SEVERAL DAYS AFTER THE demon encounter, Patrick recovered his physical abilities. Meagan talked to him, but he remained distant, especially when Benny stopped by. Patrick wanted nothing more than to be alone with his thoughts. More than once he wondered if his mind would soon completely give in to the madness. It felt like it was only a matter of time. He lay in bed for hours, Meagan commenting more than once about his foul odor from not showering. She took to the couch most nights while he lay in his desperate state. After she berated him for the third time, he had enough. Anywhere but home appealed to him.

  “Where are you going?” she asked when he finally came out of the bedroom for more than a bathroom break. He showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, the early September weather just cool enough to put away his shorts for the season.

  “I’m going out,” he muttered. He didn’t meet her eye as he put his shoes on. “I’ll be back later.”

  The morning air felt refreshing. He hadn’t been out of the house for about a week, and the stale indoor air added to his claustrophobic feelings. Standing on his porch felt like a new world. He was free and energized. Patrick stretched before he go
t in his car and started the ignition.

  Patrick didn’t know where he was going; he only knew he needed out. Meagan hounding him about getting out of bed and asking how soon he might be back to normal grated on his nerves. She blamed him for Noah acting out in school and for retreating from her. She scolded him like a nun with a schoolboy for not telling her what had happened in the woods. She repeatedly stomped out of the room when he refused to talk. But now, as the wind whipped through his open windows, he left it all behind. His cares swirled inside of his car before being abruptly and graciously escorted out the open windows. Meagan’s words were cast into nothingness, creating a wide smile on his face as he drove.

  He just needed to drive.

  Before long, he found himself tracing his normal patrol route. He laughed as he realized it. The path wound in and out of town, down dirt lanes and onto gravel roads. The late summer landscape was peaceful and calming. Cows enjoyed the cool air in the fields and the horses galloped inside their fences. The orchards outside of town were flush with apples on the trees about ready for picking, and he imagined fresh baked pies and tarts. Farmers tending their livestock waved back to him as he stuck his hand out the window.

  He pulled to the side of the road at one farm where Jed Smith was out cutting hay. They talked about the harvest and the weather and if Patrick liked living here better than the city. Patrick left when Jed needed to get back to his fields.

  He continued his patrol, slowing his car when he came to the spot where he and Benny had found the dead deer a while back. The car rolled to a full stop and he intended to get out, but then decided against it. Instead, he kept along the route. Eventually, he found himself back in Brownsville. The sleepy little town was charming, he had to admit.

  His stomach made an obnoxious sound. He couldn’t remember when he last ate. An early lunch sounded perfect. He pulled into the parking lot of Martha’s Cafe.

  Once inside, the familiar scent of coffee and grease greeted him. He sat at a small table near one of the large windows overlooking Main Street. The waitress, a middle-aged woman named Leann, took his order. She brought him coffee and he sat soaking up the atmosphere. He watched the people walking on the sidewalk and the passing cars.

  The scenery was so different from the beloved city where he grew up. The people walked a bit slower here, or at least he thought they did. No one seemed to be in too much of a hurry to get anywhere. Here, life was more relaxed. This was what he wanted for his family, right? He stared into his black coffee, watching the steam rise and swirl.

  His family.

  More and more, Meagan got on him for little things. When they lived in the city, he didn’t recall her ever berating him or cutting him down. She was always so supportive and kind. Now, she was a whole different woman, and he didn’t understand the change. Like Noah, he wondered if the stress of moving still held sway over her. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of her anger that made her so unlike the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  By the time the waitress brought his burger, fries, and soda, he gave up on trying to figure it out for the moment. He wanted to enjoy his lunch.

  After finishing what he could only describe as the best burger this side of the Mississippi, he asked for another cup of coffee and a slice of pie. He didn’t care what kind, just something good. Leann returned with a hearty slice of apple crumble. He took his time, savoring every bite of the delicious, sweet piece of heaven.

  When he’d finished, he saw Virgil sitting at the counter with a mug of coffee. Patrick eyed him carefully. He stopped himself twice from going over to talk to him, thinking it absurd that Virgil should know any secret information about what Patrick had experienced. Instead, he drank another cup of coffee and stared out the window.

  Virgil finished his coffee. Patrick watched the older man walk out the door and straight to the library.

  Patrick paid his bill, leaving a few dollars on the table for Leann. As he unlocked his car, he paused. Maybe Virgil did know something. Without a second thought, he turned away, clicking the lock button on his key fob, and headed toward the library.

  Patrick stood at the sidewalk in front of the library and hesitated. A large clock commanded patrons’ attention as they neared the library. Regarding the little brass sign noting it was a gift from the Boone family in 1892, he made a mental note to ask Meagan about it when he got home, not that he was in a hurry to get there. He stood outside in the early afternoon sun, contemplating and feeling foolish. He turned to walk away when a face peered at him through the door. Virgil stood with his hands cupped around his eyes to keep out the sun, staring directly at Patrick. Like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar, Patrick froze. The door swung open.

  “Patrick, come on in. The library ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Virgil called. Patrick reluctantly stepped forward and followed Virgil.

  The place smelled of musty books, making him wonder how current the selection was. On the far wall, he spotted a poster he remembered seeing as a kid at the library back home.

  “Geez Virgil, this place is old. Don’t you ever update things around here?” There was only one computer for patrons and another for the librarian.

  “Don’t you go giving me tips on how to run my library, kid. I’ve worked here nearly sixty years, and I know where everything is. It’s good enough for the money we got, which ain’t nothing. Damn government never helps us out.” He coughed a couple times and wiped his mouth with a blue handkerchief, which he folded up neatly and stuffed in his front shirt pocket.

  “This the first time you been in here, Patrick?”

  Patrick nodded.

  “Back there is where we keep the kids’ books, just in case young Noah comes in.” He pointed to a section to the right with a large wooden train engine in front of the bookcases.

  “I’ll let him know. Thanks, Virgil.” He doubted Noah would want anything to do with the place, especially if they didn’t have things like Diary of a Wimpy Kid or Big Time Nate.

  Patrick realized there were no other patrons in the library. “Slow day today, Virgil?”

  “Virg. You can call me Virg if ya like; all my friends do. Nah, it’s not slow. That’s how it is most days. Anyway, I know you’re busy and all, but I want to take you back here.” He turned to a hallway next to the checkout desk and motioned for Patrick to follow him.

  “Back here is a record of Brownsville. I’ve got a lot of things you won’t find anywhere else. I’ve got records going all the way back to Nathaniel Browne himself. I’ve got journals in Nathaniel’s own hand. The entire history of this town is in this room. Patrick, this stuff here is priceless.” He led Patrick to a large, oval windowless room. An empty table with one chair dominated the center of the room. Several bookcases topped storage cabinets. Virgil walked over to one and opened it.

  “You see this?” he said, pointing to a large knife. “This here is a dagger that belonged to Nathaniel Browne. The handle was carved from deer bone. He used it several times during his life. This is a dagger of great lore. They’ve made copies of it for display on special occasions. It’s not a national treasure, but around here, it’s as close as you’re gonna get. But…” He paused, admiring the dagger, “…this here,” he said picking up a small metal tool, “this is from the first homestead built by Nathaniel himself.”

  “Virgil, this is all cool stuff,” Patrick lied, “but why are you showing me this? A while back, I thought you said I could get answers from you.” Virgil stood straight and squinted at Patrick.

  “Yes, yes I did. All the answers you need are right here.” He spread his arms wide. Patrick shook his head, laughing under his breath.

  “Yeah, well, thanks for your time, Virgil. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He sighed and turned to walk away. Virgil’s voice rose.

  “Patrick, this is important.”

  Patrick paused. “I know it is for you, Virg, but I don’t see what this has to do with me. Sorry, but thanks anyway. I’m sure this collection is valuable. I better
go.” He left to Virgil’s protestations. The last thing he heard was something about regret, and he walked out, feeling foolish for buying into the old man’s scheme.

  He thought about going home. Hearing more from Meagan didn’t appeal to him, but he knew he needed to man up. With a sigh, he walked along the sidewalk, got in his car, and drove home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MEAGAN’S ATTITUDE CHANGED dramatically over the next couple weeks. Patrick thought for sure she must have started taking meds or something, because she didn’t berate him, she didn’t scold him, she didn’t give him those looks which said so much more than any words.

  “Meg, you seem to be in much better spirits lately.” Patrick sat down at the kitchen table with his morning coffee, preparing for the day ahead. Meagan didn’t say anything as she stirred the oatmeal in the pot, getting it ready for Noah.

  “Are you and Noah ready to have some fun at the Apple Festival? I hear it’s a pretty big deal around here. Did you ever go when you were young?”

  She stirred the oatmeal again. Without looking up, she answered, “Oh yeah. We came up on a weeknight and ride those carny rides. We ate funnel cakes and drink apple cider until our stomachs hurt, and then we’d go ride again. It was always the most anticipated event of the year around here. I’m a little bummed that you can’t join us. It would mean so much to us.” She turned and gave him her puppy dog stare that she used to get him to do something he didn’t want to.

  “I’m sorry, Meagan; you know I have to work. It’s all hands on deck for this thing. From what I hear, it brings in over fifteen thousand visitors. In a town this size, that’s a lot of extra people to watch out for.” He took a sip of his coffee, savoring it a moment before continuing. “Besides, I’ll be able to catch up with you guys sometime tonight.” Meagan made a slight “humph” and went back to stirring the oatmeal.