by R L Delaney
"You are all very old," Amy piped up.
The Abbot smiled. "Very good, Amy. We are all very old. Very old in fact," he added, now sounding tired. "Our youngest member is Brother Perpetiël and he is 89."
Amy let out a little cry. "Brother Perpetiël is that old? I would never have guessed he's so well advanced in years."
"We've done our share of fighting, Amy," the Abbot said. "It's time to pass the torch on to a new generation. You and young Justin seem the perfect ones to pick up that torch and run with it for some time."
Now it was Amy's time to protest. "We can't Abbot. I agree with Justin… I can't do such things. And…," she hesitated, "I have no power to speak of. There's nothing we can do."
The Abbot agreed with a slight nod of his head. "You are right again, Amy. In your own power there's nothing you can do, but just as Brother Perpetiël already told you on several occasions, it's not his power. It's the power of the King of Heaven in you. And that power needs to live inside of you."
"Yes, exactly," Justin said with a sigh of relief. "And since I don't have that power, there's nothing I can do."
The Abbot had to laugh. "Well, young Justin… then it is time we help you to get that power."
Justin looked up. "What do you mean?"
Abbot Hofniel was silent for a moment and stared at the flowers in his garden. Then he spoke, "I suppose the time has come to show you the secret."
"What is the secret?"
"Come with me, both of you."
Justin raised his eyebrows and did not want to move. "But… Mr. Abbot, I-eh…we don't want to live in a monastery. We are high school students, remember?"
The Abbot chuckled. "I have not forgotten, young Justin. And remember, my name is not Mr. Abbot. Have no fear. I don't think you are meant to live in a monastery. Just come with me."
"Come where?"
"To the sanctuary." He got up with some difficulty and shuffled to the back door. Justin and Amy stared at each other. There was nothing else to do, but to follow him.
Once they were inside the main hall of the monastery, the Abbot took a few more steps and then pointed to a circular marble stairway that led down and disappeared into the dark.
"Where is it going?" Justin mumbled as he stared down.
"Into the mountain," the Abbot replied in a simple manner. "Just go down and I will follow."
* Ezekiel 22:30
Chapter Nine
Harrison woke up with a pounding headache.
Why was he so stiff and why was everything so terribly dark around him? He squinted his eyes but could not focus them properly. Everything remained black. He noticed his lips were parched, and his throat was dry. He needed water, but where could he find it?
In spite of the pain that shot through his head all the way down to his spine, he tried to sit up, but as he did, a sense of nausea welled up, and he realized he could not move properly. His hands were tied behind his back. To his relief he could still freely move his legs. If he really wanted to, he could get up.
But he had to wait until he was no longer nauseous. It was best for now to lie still.
As he stared into the dark he tried to remember what had happened. How did he get here? As he searched his brain, vague images, shreds at best, began to trickle into his mind. There was something about the Gym.
Yes… that was it. He had been at the Gym, and had been looking for Carl Billows. A picture of an insincere, plastic smile of a lady in a blue training suit with the logo of Equinox wormed its way into his mind as well. He knew that woman… but who was it again?
Ah… he knew. It was Betty Carrington. Was she not the reception lady of the local Gym? He distinctly remembered her coming into a room…
Then he remembered. He had been in the Gym to search the place. He had been in Carl Billow's office and was sitting behind the desk when Betty Carrington had come in. She had distracted him and somebody had hit him on the head… That was what had happened, and now he was here, tied up in somebody's basement.
That was bad. This was not good news.
With a shock, the detective realized his life was in real danger, although… they had not killed him yet. If they had wanted to get rid of him they surely could have done so by now. Maybe there was hope.
He wrinkled his nose. It smelled like chemicals again. The same sour, penetrating smell that had upset his stomach when he had been snooping around Sternfoot's basement and had been staring into the face of a demon, was lingering here too. The thought of that horrible vision caused his heart to beat faster. Wherever he was, he needed to get out of here… and he needed to do it fast.
Should he yell for help?
Not wise. If there was anybody around that was evil, they would certainly hear him scream.
He turned his head. The feeling of nausea had subsided and he lifted it slightly, while trying to peer into the darkness. His eyes were now used to it, and he could discern vague shapes. A table? A chair?
Right above his head he noticed that light trickled in through the wall. It appeared there were some air passages in the brick wall. If he could get up, at least he could get some fresh air, and maybe it would give him a clue as to where he was.
Trying to ignore the pounding pain in his head he forced himself to an upright position. But that was as far as he got.
At that very moment the light flashed on, bathing the place in harsh, blinding neon light that came from the ceiling. It hurt Harrison's eyes and he had to blink several times, but in one quick glance he also saw where he was.
He had been right about the smell. He was tied up in Richard Sternfoot's basement.
But there was no time to think, as the door at the top of the stairs opened, and two figures, clad in long, flowing robes came down the stairs. Sturdy people they were, with hoods that covered their faces, and had tiny slits for their eyes. They had black belts tied around their waists and their robes were embroidered with weird, scarlet symbols, right on their bellies.
Impressive they looked, but impressively dark.
When they came down into the basement one of them peered at Harrison, while the other was rummaging around on the lab table, the same table on which Harrison had conducted his unfortunate experiment not so long ago.
"He's awake," the one who was looking at Harrison mumbled, while clearly trying to distort his voice. Whoever was hiding behind that mask was somebody Harrison knew in person.
"No problem," the other replied in a strange high-pitched voice. "As soon as we get the Desastrotrax working, he's no longer a hindrance. He'll be one of us before he can count to ten."
Harrison broke out into a sweat. Were they going to unleash those same chemicals on him again that had caused him such terrifying fears before? And, what was Desastrotrax? Were they going to intoxicate him with it so he would lose the control over his senses? Harrison lifted his head so he could see what was going on, but it was hard to tell as the man with the high-pitched voice had his back turned to him and was blocking the view.
The other, seeing Harrison's fearful expression, laughed out loud. "I think our detective wants to see what you are doing." Then he asked the man in that strange, distorted dark voice, "Show him what you are preparing. After all, foretaste is often half the fun."
The other man turned around, revealing what he was doing, and Harrison froze. Just as he feared, the man had filled up a vial with that same weird liquid he had been messing with himself before, and was about to put it on the clamp right above the burner. He chuckled and said, "Soon you'll be jumping in line with us."
The one with the bass voice was barely able to contain the joy in his voice and cackled, "It will be a great joy seeing you dressed up like us."
"What do you mean?" Harrison asked, hoping it would gain him some time. "Why will I be dressed up like a clown? The Hilarious Circus of the Spectacle Brothers has already left town over a month ago."
"You think you are pretty clever huh," the one with the high pitched voice sneered. "But soon you
'll sing a different tune." He pointed with a bony finger to a chair standing nearby and Harrison saw a neatly folded brown robe, and a gunny sack with slits for the eyes, that would serve as a hood.
"That's right," the Shadow Walker with the dark voice said with a victorious sneer, "That will be your outfit… at least until we send you home to the Netherworld where you may rot with all your friends. The Lord of Darkness will be pleased with the sacrifice we are about to make."
Try praying Harrison.
The thought came to him; clear and demanding. With it he was reminded of the moment he was running through the woods, in pursuit of Alfred Rodeo. There too, he had called out to God and only seconds later Rodeo had been smashed down by that mysterious light in the forest. It was high time to pray again.
Without hesitation he cried out in his heart. God, please… if you are there… help me!"
At that moment the doorbell rang.
Long, loud and hard. Somebody was at the door.
For a moment both Shadow Walkers were not certain what to do and stared at each other. They were not expecting any visitor at this time.
"Don't answer," the one with the dark voice said. But at the same time the bell rang again, and it had an urgent ring to it.
"What if it is one of us," the one with the high-pitched voice said with a groan. "I'll check. You continue here while I'll check it out. It won't take long."
His buddy nodded, causing his hood to move back and forth. The other Shadow Walker turned and ascended the stairs. When he got to the top and was about to disappear in the hallway, the Shadow Walker near Harrison called out, "Close the door. We can't be too careful."
They clearly did not want to take any risks.
Harrison's mind was now moving with lightning speed. He needed to do something… but what could he do? Anything would be better than just lie here.
The Shadow Walker with the dark, distorted voice, stood now with his back turned to him and continued the work where his buddy had left it. He was just lighting the burner. Harrison saw the flame shoot up. Soon, he would place the vial in the clamp, and Harrison knew what that would mean. That horrible red, stinky and oppressive vapor would appear again. Within seconds that stuff would mess with his brain and catapult him to dark worlds of horror and fear.
Ignoring the pounding pain in his head and with great difficulty he moved his body around so that his legs were just behind the Shadow Walker, who was now letting out joyful grunts.
He would only have one chance.
He lifted his legs, pulling them back and with a terrifying growl slammed them into the back of the Shadow Walkers legs. The man had not expected such a tremendous explosion of force and his legs made a weird snapping sound and disappeared under the lab table, while the man himself tumbled backwards and landed with a loud thud on the ground next the Harrison. As he came crashing down he landed with his head against the brick wall of the basement, while producing a weird, unnatural grunt.
Harrison stared wide-eyed at the Shadow Walker now lying beside him, having lost consciousness. He had not expected such wonderful results, but he was not yet safe. He crawled up with difficulty and while he began to pant he noticed an enormous paper cutter standing on a small table nearby that was perched up against the sidewall.
That would have to do.
He jumped forward to the paper cutter and placed his hand under the handlebar so he could push it up, thus having access to the shiny blade. While licking his lips he placed the rope that was tied around his wrists against the blade and began moving them back and forth, as fast as he could.
It would have to work.
It just had to.
Thank God that thing was as sharp as could be, and seconds later, the rope snapped in two.
As soon as his hands were free, Harrison ran over to the Shadow Walker on the floor and yanked off his hood. He shook his head in dismay. How horrible.
There, on the floor, lay the principal of Dewsbury High, Antonius Rigby himself.
Harrison had no time to waste. His mind was unusually clear and everything moved so fast that the detective almost believed some greater force was helping him. Within seconds he had stripped Rigby of his robe, and dressed the man in the brown robe that had been prepared for Harrison. When he was done he slipped the gunny sack over the man's head and dressed himself in the white robe of the Shadow Walker. Just as he had placed the smelly hood of Rigby over his own face, the door of the basement opened again, and the other Shadow Walker appeared.
"False alarm," the man cried out as he came down the stairs. "It was the Jehovah Witnesses. I told them to go to hell, but that got them rather upset. One of them placed his foot in the door and kept arguing I needed to buy his magazine. That's when I forced the door closed on his foot. You should have heard him scream." He stared at the unconscious heap in the brown robe on the floor and said, "I see you've already gotten him ready for the sacrifice. That's very good."
Harrison let out a grunt, hoping he sounded like Principal Rigby.
"Did you use enough Desastrotrax?" The Shadow Walker asked, surprise in his voice. "It doesn't smell so strong in here?"
"Hood," Harrison groaned as distorted as possible. "It's because of your hood."
"Of course." The Shadow Walker switched to his normal voice. Since Harrison was supposedly unconscious, there was no need to keep up with these strange, distorted voices. "All right. Help me to carry him up."
Harrison walked over to the body of Rigby and began to lift him by his legs. The Shadow Walker grabbed him by the arm. Minutes later, and while the sweat was streaming down Harrison's face under his hood, they dropped him on the landing.
Both men were panting, and Harrison's mind was racing. Could he make a run for the door?
"Richard is on his way," The Shadow Walker said. "I called him after I kicked out the Jehovah Witnesses. So we'll just wait. I'll get me a drink. Want some whiskey, Antonius?"
"No, thanks," Harrison mumbled as unclear as possible.
The Shadow Walker chuckled. "Come on, Antonius. We can relax. You don't need to keep up that weird voice of yours." While he said it he pulled off his hood and began to fan his head with his hands.
Harrison froze as he stared at the man before him.
There, dressed in that terrifying clown suit, stood Carl Billows. The man had given himself away, but stared with curious eyes at Harrison. "Take off your hood Antonius."
Harrison licked his lips. If he were to escape he had to do it now. The front door was unlocked and only 10 feet away. Maybe he could still get Carl Billows to go away. "S-Sure," he mumbled. "Get me whiskey too."
But Carl Billows smelled a rat. He narrowed his eyes and hissed, "Come on, Antonius… take off your hood."
With all the force he could muster, Harrison turned and jumped to the front door and threw it open. Seconds later he was down the steps in the bright afternoon sun and without taking his hood off, and not caring what he looked like, he ran as if a swarm of killer bees was on his trail.
As Justin and Amy descended, followed by Abbot Hofniel, their feet echoed on the circular, stony stairway. At first Justin had looked for a light switch, but the Abbot had called after him, that while they did have electricity in most of the monastery, they did not have it in this part.
But Justin soon spotted a torch attached to the wall that cast its mysterious light on the steps of the staircase, and from then on down, it appeared every twenty steps or so there was another torch.
Amy followed close, but soon Abbot Hofniel was quite far behind.
"Maybe we better wait," Justin suggested after they had descended at least a hundred steps, and he stopped near one of the torches. Its flickering light cast a ghostly shadow on Amy's face. "What do you think?" he whispered. "You think these monks have been drinking too much Hopscrotch?"
"Just have faith, Justin," Amy said. "Abbot Hofniel seems to be a very serious person. Let's see what he has in store for us."
Justin sighed. "I wonder
how much further down we have to go."
Right then Abbot Hofniel appeared around the bend, huffing and puffing. "Going down is not nearly as bad as going up," he said while panting, "still, at my age, even going down is quite taxing."
"How much further, Brother Hofniel? Justin asked.
"Not much," the Abbot answered. "We are almost there."
Justin nodded and went on. Abbot Hofniel had been right, for soon they came to a heavy wooden door, which was covered with patches of iron, with an enormous padlock hanging on the doorknob. Abbot Hofniel smiled and pulled out a key from under his tunic.
"Open it, young Justin," he said after he had handed the key to Justin.
Justin placed the key in the door and turned the lock. The door swung open and Justin peered inside. He now stood in a cave-like, circular room that was lit with another set of torches attached to the wall. The room was not very big, Justin figured just about the size of his own living room, and in the middle stood what appeared to be an altar. Right on top of the altar stood a wooden crucifix, about 3 feet in size. The arms of the Christ were outstretched on the cruel cross, and his eyes held a deep expression of pain and suffering. Right before the crucifix, on the altar, stood a bejeweled box.
"W-What is this place?" Justin stammered.
"It's our sanctuary," Abbot Hofniel replied from behind. "Brother Josebius comes here every day to light the torches, but other than him, only I come down here."
"How come it doesn't smell like smoke here?" Justin said as he sniffed the air.
"There are air passages here," the Abbot replied. "You can't see them, but there's a lot of fresh air coming in here."
"Actually," Amy remarked, "There's a beautiful sweet scent hanging in the air. What is it?"
The Abbot gave her a small nod. "That my dear friends is the reason you are down here. It is the secret for which I asked you to come."
"What is it," Justin could not contain his curiosity.
"It's the Elixir," Abbot Hofniel answered.
Both Justin and Amy looked up, surprise on their faces. "W-What is the Elixir?"
