Dark Rite

by David Wood

  “I'm sure you're right. We'll get him out of this.” Grant winced internally at the inadvertent lie he had told. What chance did he have of surviving this himself, let alone saving Cassie and Elijah too? But he was not about to give up without trying.

  They moved along the ridge to get a better view and a track became clear through the trees below. The path wound down the hillside to the cave mouth, where two burly men, both armed, stood guard at either side. The Stallard cousin and his wife went into the caves after a brief friendly chat with the guards, though Grant and Amos were too far away to hear what they discussed.

  Revulsion curdled Grant's stomach as he watched these carefree people acting as if this occasion were no more grave than a family picnic. The fact that they were about to do murder seemed not to occur to them, or if it did, they didn't care.

  Grant and Amos moved further down, careful to avoid fallen branches that might give them away with a sharp crack in the still air. When they were only twenty yards or so above the guards they hunkered down again. Amos tapped Grant's shoulder, pointed. Two more people made their way along the track.

  “Howdy boys,” said one. “It's a fine evening for it, ain't it?”

  “You're late,” one of the guards said. “Cuttin' it damn close. Better get inside.”

  “Really? We the last to arrive?”

  “Pretty much. Everyone else is inside and we're only waiting on Jed and Jesse, then we start.”

  Grant's hackles rose at the mention of the Stallard brother's names. He bit down on anger and waited.

  “How long till the conjunction?” one on the track asked.

  “Half an hour, maybe? Now get inside.”

  The men looked at each other, clearly surprised, and hurried in.

  Grant turned to Amos, his eyes wide. “I thought we had until tonight,” he whispered.

  Amos shrugged. “I guess a planetary alignment don't have to wait for night to be in effect.”

  “We have to hurry!”

  Amos pointed at the guards still standing by the cave entrance. “And do what?”

  Grant fumed. He felt at once empowered by Ma Withers' ministrations, and simultaneously useless and weak. They had one bowie knife between them against a whole town with guns and a demon on their side. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. Ma Withers' words echoed in his memory. Things happen for a reason at their right time, son. You happened for a reason, Cassie did too.

  Maybe there was something beyond him on his side and this was the right time. More of Ma's words worried at the back of his mind. Ain't no justice to who prevails in things like this, evil wins out as often as good. Well, fuck it all. There was just as little justice for these evil bastards as there was for him and maybe one angry young man was all the catalyst needed to make a difference.

  “I need to get inside,” he whispered. “I've no idea what I can do in there, but I certainly can't do anything from out here.”

  Amos nodded, looked along the narrow valley trail. “I'll make you a distraction. Draw those guards away from the cave entrance. When they move, you slip in behind.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I'm a fair woodsman. I'll take my chances.”

  Grant reached out and shook Amos's hand. “Thank you, Amos, really. You've been more than good to me.”

  “You just make sure it's worth something, son.”

  “We will.”

  Amos nodded once and slipped away between the trees without another word.

  Grant sat on the dry ground and breathed deeply, trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find inside the cave. The rock of fear and doubt swelled outward, anxiety-fueled energy surging through his chest and limbs. His eyes sharpened and he felt a sense of purpose and clarity of vision unlike anything he had known before. He pulled old Josiah's finger from its tin and it danced and writhed in his grip, gesturing frantically at the cave mouth. He smiled and put it back into his pocket, not bothering with the tin. The furious squirming of it against his hip was empowering. “Come on, Josiah,” he whispered to it. “Let's see if we can't finish this thing.”

  A voice rang out from away down the trail. “Hey, you two. Help me here! Jesse's hurt!”

  Grant squinted into the trees. From his vantage point he saw Amos away down the trail, doing a passable impersonation of Jed Stallard. The two guards exchanged a surprised look. To Grant's chagrin, only one of them left his post. He saw Amos duck into the trees and hightail it up the valley side, the lone guard moving in his direction. Grant would have to finish the other man.

  He picked up a stone the size of his two fists, and looked down at the lone remaining guard, who gazed off in the direction his partner had gone. His pistol was holstered, his thumbs tucked into his belt. If Grant were fast, he had a chance. Hefting the rock, he crept down the slope toward the man below. The soft, loamy earth masked the sound of his approach. He was almost directly above the cave mouth when he dislodged a pebble, sending it bouncing down with a clatter that his nerves amplified into a rumble like a landslide.

  The guard turned around, more curious than alarmed. His eyes widened when he saw Grant. He fumbled for his pistol, but Grant was already flying through the air. He brought the rock crashing down on the man's head. The fellow crumpled to the ground, his limp body cushioning Grant's fall.

  The guy was too big and too heavy for Grant to do a proper job of it, but he managed to drag the unconscious guard into the nearby underbrush where did a half-assed job of covering him in leaves and pine needles. He helped himself to the man's pistol, a snub nosed .38 revolver. The cylinder was full, but the man carried no spare bullets. Obviously hadn't been expecting trouble. Grant imagined there would be a lot more than six people inside, but it was better than nothing.

  With a smile and a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Grant slipped into the cool darkness of the cave.

  Chapter 21

  The orange glow of lanterns set in carved niches cast long shadows as Grant passed from the light of one into the next. He navigated a series of twists and turns, sometimes being forced to scoot along on his belly until, finally, the pass curved slowly to the left and opened up into a huge cavern.

  Grant stifled a gasp. Lanterns and candles all around the walls and floor lit the cavern, but still it was so tall that the roof was lost in flickering shadows like squirming ink. Dozens of people stood around the uneven cavern floor, the murmur of low conversation imparting a sense of tense excitement.

  Cassie lay on a stone slab in the middle of the floor. She was naked and bound, arms and legs splayed out. Grant ground his teeth, rage boiling inside him at the sight of these sickos looking upon her with undisguised animal longing. Men and women, young and old, it seemed like half the town was here, and dressed in their Sunday best. Cassie looked petrified, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Her father stood beside her, his face a mask of zealous pride.

  Voices carried along the corridor from behind and Grant hurried behind a rock outcrop at the side of the path, before it descended into the cavern.

  “What do you mean hurt?”

  “We heard you holler out that Jesse was hurt.”

  “I did no such thing. You're hearing things.”

  “Both of us?”

  “Well, maybe not. But it don't matter now. Where’s Clay?”

  “Dunno. He was supposed to stay there, but he must’ve gone looking for me. Guess it might be that damn Shipman boy.”

  A bark of harsh laughter. “What is he gonna do?” Grant recognized Jesse Stallard’s voice. “Now stand back at your post and if anybody does come by, shoot them in the face. Get on with you, now. It's time.”

  Moments later, Jed and Jesse Stallard emerged from the passage and strode down into the cavern, passing within less than a yard of where Grant crouched, heart hammering.

  “It looks like it's about time,” Jesse called out.

  Giving her son an approving smile, Mary Ann Stallard broke away from
a group of women and moved to her husband's side. They joined hands and moved toward the middle of the cavern, along with Brunswick. Cassie's father smiled at the pastor and nodded, seemingly unbothered by the imminent demise of his only daughter.

  Edwin Stallard raised his hands and, slowly, those assembled grew quiet. Unlike the others, he wore a robe like those Grant had seen in his father’s book. “Folks, if I might have your attention please. The time of conjunction is upon us and all has been prepared as it needs to be! It's been fifty years since we last had this chance and some of us were just children then, like the next generation here to witness tonight.”

  He gestured to one side and Grant craned his neck to see, stunned to spot twenty or more children gathered in the back of the cavern, watching with wide eyes. What kind of thing was this to put in front of kids? Some of them looked as young as two or three. Even the two little girls Cassie minded were there, their faces open and expectant.

  “Some of our number were fortunate enough to be involved last time,” Edwin went on. He held out one hand to indicate a gathering of old-timers, some being supported by family and friends, too old and infirm to stand unaided. “Brother Jack there stood in my stead last time, blessed with the honor of welcoming Kaletherex into our world. We thank you, Jack.”

  The old man indicated bowed his head and smiled at the polite smattering of applause.

  What the hell was wrong with these people? Grant felt like he'd walked in on a church picnic, not a cult's dark rite.

  “And thanks must go to Graham Brunswick,” Edwin said, laying a hand on Cassie's father's shoulder. “For it is by his faithfulness that now we have the vessel we require.” Brunswick beamed like a praised schoolboy as Edwin Stallard indicated Cassie, tied and terrified beside them. “Ain't she a picture, there,” Stallard said.

  Cassie stared up at them with terror-filled eyes. “You sick bastards!” she screamed and Grant was proud of the strength in her voice even as his heart swelled fit to crack at her predicament. “Daddy? Why are you doing this to me?” Suddenly, the little girl was so clear in her eyes, even through her terror, that Grant had to look away.

  “Now, at long last, the time of the conjunction is once again upon us!” Edwin Stallard cried, reigniting the crowd’s zeal. The murmur of voices rose and excitement filled the air again. “All is ready,” Stallard went on. “The time has come to draw the blood that shall summon Kaletherex to grace us with his presence and bestow upon us the bounty of his blessings!”

  Cheers and applause boomed in the cavern. Grant looked frantically around as the sounds pounded his ears. What could he do? How could he do anything to save Cassie against so many. Several people around the cave had guns in plain sight, rifles and shotguns hanging casually in their arms. He was sure that several more would have small arms concealed on themselves.

  “Brothers and sisters, I must now caution you to exercise restraint during this ritual. The life that Brother Brunswick has so generously provided us belongs, not to us, but to Kaletherex. We draw only her blood. He draws forth her life. Only in the desecration of the body may the soul be released to him, and once that gift is given, then shall Kaletherex reward us with his blessing. Remember, do no harm to the vessel, for she is Kaletherex's and his alone. And do not come between them, lest you be consumed.”

  Now everyone did fall silent. A few children inched closer to their parents. Grant felt no sympathy for any of them. They spared not a thought for Cassie, but feared only for themselves.

  Cliff Stallard stepped forward, holding a watch high above his head. “Conjunction!”

  “At last!” The reverend drew a large, shining knife from his belt and retrieved the tan leather book so familiar to Grant. He held the book open in one hand, his blade in the other.

  Grant almost stood from cover, his mind a whirl of indecision. He'd have to kill the pastor first, then figure it out from there.

  Wait, son. Something, somewhere, seemed to speak to him, a voice distant and ethereal. It is the demon we must fight, not the people.

  We? Grant thought, and he knew Josiah Brunswick was with him. In some manner, the spirit of the old warlock hovered nearby.

  Aye, lad, we. When Kaletherex is near, so am I.

  Edwin Stallard stood behind Cassie's head, the knife raised high. Somewhere in the depths of the cavern a deep, a sonorous drum beat began, echoing back and forth around the huge space. Every person gathered fell to their knees and began to chant, a rhythmic, repetitive sequence of ugly words. Cassie screamed, and Stallard spoke strange and broken phrases as he read from the book. He drew his knife slowly along her body, raising a line of blood from her navel up between her breasts.

  As Cassie's screams rose, the drum beat louder, the people chanted more fervently and a scouring heat swept through the cavern. The air some five yards from Cassie's feet shimmered and flexed, colors danced across each other like sunlight refracted through a lens and a stench of sulphur filled the air. With a crack like lightning and a shock wave pulse of searing wind, something huge, black and terrible stepped into the world.

  Chapter 22

  Even crouched on the cave floor, the demon Kaletherex stood taller than any man, and was a mass of corded muscle pressed through tight black skin stretched like a dark membrane across its imposing bulk. Its face was bull-like, with a wide, smoking mouth bristling with huge black fangs. Shining obsidian horns curved up from its head, their razor points almost meeting. Long claws glistened from every fingertip and cut into the cavern floor from every toe. The demon threw its head back and cried out to the heavens, the sound reverberating off the cavern walls and drilling through to Grant's terrified soul. It stretched its arms wide and roared again.

  The pounding drum redoubled its beat, the chanting rose in pace in and volume, the voices a cacophony of stuttering rhythm. Mesmerized in the ritual, no one appeared frightened.

  A man ran forward and prostrated himself at the demon's feet. His wife, eyes wide, grabbed at him, tried to pull him away. Hunger burned in the onlookers’ eyes, their faces gleeful, as the creature lifted the man from the floor. He gibbered, frothing at the mouth in his insane zealotry as Kaletherex slid its claws into his gut, twisted slowly, and drew forth a rope of steaming entrails. His shrieks cut off as Kaletherex bit into his throat. The man's wife screamed as the demon ripped her husband to pieces and swallowed large chunks of the man whole. Suddenly aware of her, the demon clubbed her with her husband's leg, slamming her to the cave floor. She hit the ground, twitched once and lay still.

  Graham Brunswick and Edwin Stallard stepped away from Cassie as she screamed and thrashed against the chains that bound her. Kaletherex turned toward her and stepped forward. The lamplight seemed to dim as the demon rose to its full height.

  Grant, fighting against nausea from disgust and fear, forced his muscles to work. His heart pounding, blood pulsing in his temples, his stomach an icy mass of terror, he stood and yelled out, “Leave her alone!”

  The chanting faltered and eyes turned to see Grant. He stood on the rock he had hidden behind and raised his arms. From somewhere deep within, his voice rose, empowered by the presence in his mind. “I'm here to face you, Kaletherex!”

  “It's Shipman!” Reverend Stallard called. “Shoot him!”

  A few weapons swung in Grant's direction, but most were transfixed by Kaletherex and seemed aware of nothing else. Grant felt incredibly vulnerable standing so tall and, rather than face the instant death of dozens of bullet wounds, he leapt from the rock and ran for Kaletherex. He emptied the stolen revolver as he ran, unsure if he hit anything as people dove for cover.

  Gasps and shouts resounded around the cavern. The demon crouched and roared again, its voice turning Grant's stomach to water, his legs to tissue. He stared into two fiery red, bottomless eyes and his courage deserted him. He saw hell and eternity in those flaming orbs and knew himself to be irrelevant. The gun dropped from his weak fingers.

  A shot rang out and Grant winced, but from the
corner of his eye he saw Edwin Stallard stagger back, clutching at his chest.

  “You crazy ass people done gone too far!” The voice rang out from the tunnel leading to the cavern. Amos! Where had he gotten a rifle? Amos's face was bloody and bruised, his wounded arm scarlet through the dressings, but he was here and fighting.

  Grant found strength in the man's devotion and resourcefulness, and leapt to the side just as Kaletherex closed the gap between them and swiped at him with one huge, taloned hand. The pastor's death seemed to break the spell over the crowd, and confusion and panic swept the room. A press of bodies surged between Grant and the demon as people raced in every direction at once.

  “Kill them both!” Graham Brunswick screamed over the tumult.

  Amos's son, Elijah, armed with a rifle, stood guard near Cassie. As Graham Brunswick raised a pistol to shoot Amos, Elijah yelled out in alarm. “No!” He swung his weapon up and fired at point blank range into Brunswick's chest. The slug tore through Brunswick in a burst of blood and bone, sent him flying backward.

  Amos fired again and again, aiming for anyone who held a weapon, and picking off several, as he ran along one edge of the cavern. People screamed and fought, some trying to get away, others trying to take down Elijah or Amos. A scattering of shots rang out as some of the cultists finally managed to fight back, but the chaos prevented them from getting off good shots. Most went wild, ricocheting off the cavern walls, while others took down fleeing townspeople. It was utter madness and, over it all, the demon Kaletherex roared with something like glee. The creature swept a knot of townspeople aside and came at Grant again.

  Grant ducked and rolled, the enchanted bowie knife in his hand. As he came up onto his knees he slashed at the demon, missed, and rolled away again. In his peripheral vision he saw one of the Stallard boys take aim at him and, the next instant, a bullet zipped past his nose, cracking into the rock plinth behind him. Fighting a demon while being shot at? No way.