by Lincoln Cole
He hated it. He hated being the one to run.
Not for much longer, he vowed. Soon, he would be the one doing the hunting.
He woke Megyn and the driver up early the next morning and got them back on the road before the sun came up. Their base of operations was lost to them now, but that mattered little. Right now it was important that they keep moving and keep their plans rolling. The sooner their agenda was finished the better.
They had allies in Ohio that they could call upon in a time of need, and those allies would be more than adequate for dealing with the ignorant priest and his hunter friend. He hadn’t originally planned on reaching out to The Ninth Circle for help, but now it felt like a necessity.
◆◆◆
“I don’t like it here,” Megyn whined, grabbing Jeremy by the coat as they walked up toward the junkyard entrance. She tried to pull him away, a concerned look on her face. “We should just go back.”
“We can’t,” Jeremy replied, shaking his arm loose and shoving Megyn away. “These people owed our Father for what he did for them, which means that now they owe us.”
“I’m scared.”
Jeremy glowered at her. He couldn’t stomach her constant simpering about everything, and he was annoyed that he had to bring her along. He would have left her in the car, but he had to admit that even he was a little bit afraid about meeting these people. Leopold had described them as ignorant savages, capable only of short sighted decisions.
Of course, part of him knew that he was so mad at Megyn because she was right. This place was creepy and more than a little bit intimidating. Endless piles of dead and rusty cars littered the surrounding area, stretching off in all directions. It felt like a graveyard of metal, rust, and decay.
If something went wrong, he would be glad to have Megyn at his side.
Nothing moved, and there was no sound in the area except for the wind. He expected to get rushed upon by a guard dog when they first walked up to the area — something he saw in countless movies — but the absence of even that made the place more eerie. He was starting to wonder if this was even the right place.
Still, he couldn’t back down now: they no doubt already knew he was at the junkyard. They doubtless watched him already, so he refused to show weakness or fear. That was something the Bishop taught him, and he needed to show them that he meant business.
He must show them that he was the Bishop’s rightful heir.
They walked through the graveyard of cars toward a small office building near the center. A group of three ugly men came out to meet them in front of it. They were dirty and disheveled and looked like they were probably inbred. Leopold hated working with them so many years ago, claiming that this was one of the dirtiest and weakest cells of the entire cult.
They were all underdressed for how cold it was outside. It was chilly and Jeremy saw his breath hanging in the air in front of him. One man wore overalls and a faded yellow shirt, and he seemed to be in charge of the others.
Another balding man was carrying a baseball bat and wearing overalls, and the last man was carrying a sawed off shotgun with rust on the barrel. Jeremy wasn’t even sure if it would fire.
“Who’re you?” yellow-shirt asked. He was chewing on something, and he turned and spat a wad of black tobacco juice into the dirt beside him.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “I am Jeremy Caldwell, and this is Megyn Wilford. We are the children and disciples of Bishop Leopold Glasser. Run along and tell your master that we are here.”
The man eyed him for a long moment, chewing on the tobacco like a cow chewed cud. His face was leathery and cracked and he had a painful red rash covering the exposed skin on his arms.
He turned and spat another wad into the dirt.
“I don’t know where you reckon you are at, boy, but we—”
“It wasn’t a request,” Jeremy cut in, keeping his voice steady. The man with the shotgun tensed up but Jeremy kept his focus on the leader. “I know what Leopold Glasser did for you and yours only a year ago when you murdered that man’s family. Me and my sister are owed both sanctuary and assistance in our endeavors, and we’re here to collect on our father’s debt.”
He tried to sound tough, but his voice was higher pitched and less confident than he liked. Still, he pushed through knowing that he needed to put up a strong front.
Megyn was still clutching his arm, and she shivered beside him. Fear was the way in which the strong gave up their power to the weak. Jeremy had no intention of relinquishing any of his power. He forced his back to stay straight and looked the man in the eye.
A few minutes passed as the man sized them up, thinking. Finally, the man coughed, wiped his mouth, and then turned back toward the little decrepit shop the crew had walked out of.
“Come on then.”
The other two men lowered their weapons, though they didn’t look to happy about it. The guy with the bat, a skinny man with missing teeth and a weasel face, was leering at Megyn in a way that made Jeremy’s skin crawl. He couldn’t imagine the effect it was having on Megyn and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
He was wondering if maybe they made a mistake in coming here. Maybe this was the wrong place and these weren’t the people Bishop Glasser helped with information. Or maybe they wouldn’t be willing to help and wanted to trick Megyn and Jeremy inside to try and hurt them.
If that was the case, then woe unto them for picking the wrong kids to try and fight. Still, he didn’t like the way the men were looking at them.
They were led into the main room of the shop. It, too, was littered with broken and discarded trash. It smelled like a skunk had died in a backroom a few days ago and was just left there, but he was careful not to let it show on his face.
Three more cultists laid around inside the shop, just as dirty and disgusting as the welcoming party, and they barely even perked up when everyone came in. A fan spun lazily overhead, though it did nothing except kick the dust around.
He had no idea why the fan was running, except maybe to dissipate the smell. It was cold in the building, maybe in the fifties and barely warmer than outside, though the gathered crew barely seemed to notice.
The tobacco chewer pointed at an empty and raggedy couch in the corner of the room.
“Wait dere,” he slurred.
The couch was no doubt laced with insects, bed bugs, and other disgusting creatures he couldn’t even imagine. Jeremy’s skin crawled just thinking about it.
“I think we’d rather just wait…”
The man shot him a look that made clear this wasn’t up for debate. Jeremy took Megyn’s hand and dragged her over to the couch. He sat down, and then pulled her down next to him. She made a little moan as he did so, leaning forward and trying to touch the couch with as little of her butt as she could.
“We must be hospitable,” he murmured.
Megyn didn’t reply.
Yellow-shirt disappeared out the front door of the shop and back into the junkyard, leaving them alone with the rest of the crew of ugly and disfigured misfits. Jeremy struggled to remain calm, but he could feel them all staring at them. They were focusing on the two children like they were pieces of meat on offer.
Time passed; though it was impossible to tell how much. Maybe an hour, or it might have been only ten minutes. The place was quiet, the only sound people breathing and the occasional cough. It felt as though the two children were sitting inside a fishbowl or zoo. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like the room was getting smaller.
“You’re perty,” one man said suddenly, breaking the silence. He pointed a crooked finger at Megyn and smiled at her with a mouthful of yellow teeth. “Bet ye smell good too.”
“Jeremy…” she whispered, clutching his hand.
“We should leave,” he decided. “Stay with me.”
He began to stand up, but just then the door opened and two people came striding in. The first through the door was the yellow shirted leader who had brought them in. The second was, Jeremy fi
gured, his master.
That man wore an expensive tailored and well-cut suit, his hair was trimmed and immaculate, and he was quite handsome with piercing eyes and angular features.
He glanced around the room, spotted Jeremy and Megyn on the couch, and then broke into a huge smile. It was a warm and friendly grin, and it filled Jeremy with relief.
“You must be Jeremy,” the man exclaimed, rushing across the room. He took Jeremy’s hand in his own and shook it gently, beaming down at them. “And Megyn, I presume? I’ve heard so much about both of you from my dear friend, Leopold. This is such a treat to finally meet you.”
He said it with complete familiarity, though Jeremy was quite certain he’d never heard of this man before. He stood out, though Bishop Glasser never mentioned someone like him associated with this cell of the cult before.
“Yes. I’m Jeremy and this is my sister Megyn.”
“It’s so good to finally shake your hands. I am George Castinella. I was a dear friend of Leopold’s, and it positively broke my heart to hear what happened to him. I can’t imagine what you both must be going through. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”
“How did you hear?”
George smiled, though this time it was less pleasant. “I hear many things. The world isn’t as large as you might imagine.”
“Well, thank you for your condolences,” Jeremy muttered, standing up from the couch and brushing his clothes off. “That’s actually why we are here, though. We were hoping you would honor—”
“You both must be starving,” George cut in. He rudely snapped his fingers at one of the disgusting women off to the right to get her attention. “Fetch them some food.”
“No, no, that is quite alright. We aren’t hungry and—”
“Nonsense. It’ll only be a moment to prepare something and Bertha is quite the chef.”
Jeremy took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
“Thank you, then. Of course, we graciously accept.”
“We should talk,” George said, heading toward the exit. “Let’s go for a walk, just the two of us.”
Megyn grabbed Jeremy’s hand in fear and flashed him a look of terror.
“Don’t leave me here,” she whispered.
“Megyn should come along as well. We are in this together.”
“No,” George replied. “Just us. You have my word, though, that no harm will come to either of you while you are here. You are my guests, and we would never dare to mistreat one of our own.”
“We aren’t cultists.”
“But, you are family.”
Jeremy hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Megyn alone, but he also didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to speak to George. He needed the man’s help in dealing with the priest and hunter.
Plus, he knew Megyn could defend herself if the rest attacked her. It might even be good practice to help toughen her up a little bit.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” he said, gently freeing his hand. “Just stay here.”
“Jeremy.”
“Stay.”
Then, he turned and followed George out the door of the shop and into the sunny junkyard beyond. The cold hit him like a wall and he bundled his coat even tighter.
George was tall and regal and looked more like a businessman than a cult leader. There was something about him that just made him instantly trustworthy. Jeremy knew better than to trust that impression, though, and reminded himself that he had the upper hand here.
They walked for a few minutes through the piles of junk in silence before George finally spoke.
“I’m glad you came. I was worried that the Bishop hadn’t told you about us and that you wouldn’t seek us out after he was gone.”
“He said you were friends and that you owed him.”
“I owed Leopold a greater debt than I ever could have paid. He helped me damage and weaken our greatest enemy in ways we couldn’t have dreamed of. I would have willingly done anything for him.”
“That’s actually why I am here. I was hoping that, in that spirit, you might be willing to help us deal with a problem we’ve—”
“I think you should cancel your plans.”
Jeremy stopped midstream, confused. “What?”
“I know you are trying to live out Leopold’s mission for you. I heard about what the two of you did at the Church of Saint Thomas and I feel this is a misguided waste of your true potential.”
Jeremy frowned. “How do you know that was us?”
George smiled at him and chuckled. “Coy. I like it. Leopold always said you were smart. That’s why he trusted you so much.”
“Then you also know that he never would have wanted us to stop living out his legacy. Even after we lost him. This was to be his greatest achievement. The shining pinnacle of his years of planning.”
“Of course it was, but it was always a misguided agenda. The children he so painstakingly gathered are being rounded up all over the country even as we speak, and so far they’ve done very little to damage the Church or open the eyes of the world.”
“Then more needs to be done. With what I have planned, no one will be able to dismiss us any longer. We will open the world’s eyes.”
“Absolutely, but not like this. Bloodshed and murder solve nothing. People can willfully disregard anything, even facts that are right before them. All that will come of this is you and Megyn will be caught, or worse, killed. If you are caught, you will be handed over to the church and your lives will be over.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Leopold was wrong,” George said. He stopped walking and shifted to face Jeremy. “He thought that this was the way to get things done, but this won’t accomplish anything. This war you are trying to start…you’ve lost it before it’s even begun. Your gifts, however, could be used to accomplish so much more. You could be the answer to all of our dreams.”
Jeremy felt a burst of rage. “I won’t stand here and listen to you speak ill of my father.”
“Nor would I ever speak ill of him. Leopold was a great man, one of the greatest I’ve ever known. He was a visionary, Jeremy. What he did by gathering your family together was incredible: what he meant to do with it, however, was to waste all of your talents on a single-minded and unambitious plan. When last we spoke only a few weeks ago, I had finally convinced him of this. Alas, he died before we could finalize it.”
“You what?”
“I convinced him that what he intended to do with this grand gesture was shortsighted and that there was a better way to use you children. He was going to call off the mission and together we were going to redirect the endeavor.”
“You’re lying.”
“I would never lie. Not to you.”
“He wouldn’t have called it off. He wanted to activate all of us and start our attacks.”
“He didn’t, though, did he?”
“No, he was delaying until we gathered the next child.”
“And he would have delayed again, and again. He postponed the agenda to go and collect another child, and it cost him his army and his family. He had no intention of activating any of you, though, after we spoke. You were his family, and he wasn’t willing to take that next step and risk losing you.”
“We were building an army.”
“Of demons. That was to be your attack. We helped you build that army. We taught him the summoning rituals and gave him the names of the demons, and he knew that they were a better way. The demons were expendable, but the children were everything.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. When last we spoke we began forming new plans. He intended to gather one last child, Haatim Arison, and then together we would find a way to use all of the children to their fullest capabilities. We were ready to expand and take over the world.”
Jeremy hesitated. It was true that the Bishop passed up multiple opportunities to begin his plan. He was in final stages of planning for years, in fact, but never actually gave the go ahead
to begin.
Jeremy had known the Bishop’s activation strategies for all of the children, which was how he’d sent out the commands for them to begin their attacks, but when last he spoke with Leopold the plan had been to wait.
Some of the children had clearly defined targets that the Bishop had chosen for them to maximize damage and visibility, but many more of the children had no clear idea of what they were supposed to do. The Bishop had never given them any real idea of how to do damage.
That didn’t matter to Jeremy, though. The point was to have the children do something. They could all create some impact just by using their imaginations and powers. If nothing else, they would form a distraction to keep the Church busy until Jeremy had succeeded in his mission.
What George said about Leopold’s unwillingness to begin rang of truth, however…
No, that couldn’t have been true. If the Bishop was modifying his agenda, he would have told Jeremy. He told Jeremy everything about his plans, the mission, and what they were trying to accomplish.
Didn’t he?
“You’re lying. He had no intention of stopping. Once we had collected Haatim we were going to begin the attacks all across the country.”
“Don’t you get it, Jeremy? These attacks serve no purpose. Opening up the eyes of the public accomplishes nothing. The public can be lied to, manipulated, and trained to see things anyway we want them to. You were his chosen soldier, the one who helped him build his demonic army. You were the only one he needed.”
“That’s why it is my duty to honor his memory.”
“Then honor his memory by succeeding in ways he could only dream of. Let me help you, and together we can truly wake the world up to your power.”
“I intend to,” Jeremy replied, frustrated. “That is why I need your help.”
“Not like this. You aren’t prepared yet and you only run the risk of getting yourself killed. All you are doing is squandering the Bishop’s gifts.”
Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “I am more than prepared. You saw what I did at the church. You know what I’m capable of.”
“Are you prepared to lose everything?”
