by S. E. Akers
Sure enough, the man reached into the tall wicker container and started yanking out snakes, left and right. It was like watching a horrible train wreck about to happen. It was sickening, but I couldn’t turn away. Freakishly mesmerized, I gawked (and gagged) at the parishioners passing various snakes around like they were at a Saturday afternoon swap meet. The church was crawling and slithering with serpents before we knew it. A snake-wrangler approached Tanner and presented him with one of the vile, scaly critters. The Amethyst Talisman pretended like he was going to hand it to me until he noticed my “don’t EVEN think about it” look. He grinned and then tossed it to a man sitting to his right.
Tanner nudged my arm. “Come on. Let’s wait outside.” He didn’t have to tell me twice.
As we headed out into the hall, a familiar female voice called out, “Leaving so soon?”
I jumped, while Tanner remained cool and collected. Mrs. Flossie Mae Shrewsbury was following us out like a puppy dog, except her tail wasn’t wagging. She looked directly at me.
“I take it this isn’t your cup of tea?” she probed with an air of suspicion.
In a slick attempt to avoid offending the pastor’s wife, Tanner interjected, “No, Ma’am. I’ve been trying to convert my wife to the ways of the church, but I’m afraid she still hasn’t become accustom to some of its rituals.” He squeezed my hand and continued, “She’s a bit on the squeamish side.”
Mrs. Shrewsbury seemed to buy Tanner’s explanation. However, as I observed her body language and listened in on her thoughts, I realized, He doesn’t have her snowed at all…She’s just in the same disposition that Lila the waitress was in yesterday! She was totally captivated by him and was hanging on to his every word while she had “less than wholesome” thoughts.
Mrs. Shrewsbury took Tanner’s arm in hers and led him into the fellowship hall. I followed behind, shaking my head. Not again — Ugh! I felt awful for this poor, unsuspecting lady. She would be mortified if any of the church’s congregation saw her fawning all over a man who wasn’t her husband, the pastor.
Where’s an ice-cold baptismal pool when you need one?
Tanner used Mrs. Shrewsbury’s “new attitude” to his advantage. “Mrs. Shrewsbury, I was hoping you could help me find an old buddy of mine. He’s the one who first introduced me to the church. His name is Mr. Estell. Do you know him?” he asked.
Mrs. Shrewsbury leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. “I do know a Mr. Estell…a Mr. Stacie Estell. He used to be a member of the church, but he had a falling out with my husband over some of his strange beliefs,” she replied.
Upon hearing her announcement, I thought skeptically, How could they be any stranger than thinking a snakebite will test your faith and give you some kind of good favor?
“What kind of strange beliefs?” Tanner asked.
Mrs. Shrewsbury, who was now rubbing Tanner’s arm, continued, “Unnatural things…Unspeakable things really. They weren’t the church’s beliefs. They were secular and bordered on the realm of evil. He eventually severed his ties with the church…and GOOD RIDDANCE, I’ll say! He hasn’t been a member here for several years. I can’t imagine that you could ever be a friend of his?” she added dubiously.
“Do you know where I could find him?” Tanner asked.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind — he was going to find Mr. Estell tonight, one way or another.
Mrs. Shrewsbury speculated, “I think he’s still around…somewhere. When he was a member, he stayed in the small house across the road that the church owns. When we parted ways, he took his things and left. I know people still see him around, but I’m afraid I don’t know his current address.”
Abruptly, the fellowship hall’s doors opened and the masses began to huddle around the refreshment table. Tanner stepped away from Mrs. Shrewsbury and ushered me off to the side of the room.
“I’m going to ask some of the others if they may know where to find Mr. Estell. Mingle around and see if you can find out anything, Mrs. McCoy.” With that said, Tanner headed off in search of our next destination.
I was just as uncomfortable in here as I was in the worship hall. I could just picture a snake popping out of someone’s pocket. I’d had enough snake encounters in just one week to last a lifetime. My skin was crawling, especially when someone brushed my arm as they walked past. I asked a few people about Mr. Estell, but nobody knew where he lived. Frustrated and still struggling with a case of the sceevies, I wandered outside to wait for Tanner, who was currently surrounded by most of the female congregation.
That figures…
I waited on the front steps of the church and stared up at the dark night sky. It had a very eerie look about it. There were no visible stars and it appeared hazy, streaked with various shades of gray. All of a sudden, I felt something lightly tap my shoulder. I gasped uncontrollably (at the thoughts of it being a daggone snake) as I whipped around.
I let out a laugh. “Oh, you startled me,” I replied when I’d noticed that it was the little pig-tailed girl who was now sitting by my side.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” the little girl replied contritely. “My name’s Gallia. What’s yours?” she asked.
In the midst of all the weirdness that surrounded the church and its rituals, I found the little girl’s presence quite calming. Her interest in a stranger around here, I assumed, was an innocent curiosity.
“That’s a fitting name for such a pretty little girl. I’m Shyloh. Hmm…Let me guess…You look to be around nine or ten?”
Gallia giggled. “Are you going to start coming to church here?” she asked.
I put on a convincing smile as that thought went in one ear and out the other. “No,” I confirmed. “We just came by to see if we could find an old friend. That’s all.”
“Oh,” she replied. “Did you find them?” Gallia asked as she fiddled with the pink ribbons tied onto the ends of her pigtails.
“Not yet. We don’t appear to be having any luck,” I answered casually, not in any hurry to meet up with creepy old Mr. Estell.
“Maybe I can help?” she posed. “What’s your friend’s name?”
Gallia seemed like a sweet girl, so felt compelled to humor her. “Uh…his name is Mr. Stacie Estell.”
“He’s not here,” she answered immediately.
I nodded thinking, No kidding.
Gallia tugged on my arm. “But…I know where he lives,” she added. My eyes widened as the little pig-tailed girl told me how to get to Mr. Estell’s house. Gallia pointed her finger and instructed, “Down the highway and turn onto the dirt road by the orange rock.”
I sprang to my feet. “Excuse me, Gallia. I need to tell my friend. Thank you.” I ran up the steps and met Tanner just as he was coming outside, looking awfully concerned.
“I said ‘mingle’, not run off,” Tanner scolded as he shook his head and adjusted his attitude. “Did you have any luck?”
Proudly, I nodded. “I sure did. I got his address.”
“From who?”
“A little girl,” I answered as I turned to point her out to him. He followed my finger to the bottom of the steps. “Where is she?” I remarked. Gallia wasn’t there. I muttered, “She was just here a second ago.” I scanned the parking lot and sensibly replied, “She’s a little girl…They tend to run off.”
Tanner grabbed my arm and led me down the steps. As we headed for his Harley, he sneered and shook his head. “Yeah…I know they do.”
I passed along the sketchy directions to Tanner as we headed down the highway. A couple miles into our trip, we spotted a large rock by the side of the road. It wasn’t actually an “orange rock”, but it did have a lot of graffiti scribbled on it in orange paint. I tapped on the back of his leather jacket and motioned him towards the dirt road lying beside the vandalized stone.
As we turned onto to the bumpy road, Tanner pulled his motorcycle off to the side and hid it behind a thick cluster of secluded bushes. He hushed its noisy engine and instructed me
to hop off.
“We don’t want to ring any doorbells,” Tanner advised. “This is a surprise visit, remember?”
Before we headed off in search of Mr. Estell, I noticed Tanner removing the two metal grips from off the motorcycle’s handlebar. He tucked them inside his leather jacket and flashed me a sly smile.
I gave my head a quick, skeptical shake. Well, that’s not going to stop anyone around here from stealing your precious bike. Whatever…
Our pace was markedly slow. We really didn’t know how far it was or what type of dwelling we were looking for. It was more of an “explorative jog” through the dusky woods.
After about a mile, we spotted a small structure on the horizon. We kept ourselves camouflaged behind the trees as we crept closer to what turned out to be a run-down old shack in the middle of nowhere. By the way the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, I thought, Oh yeah — This is the place. It sure looks creepy enough!
We crouched behind some bushes several feet from the shack. There were no lights on, and it appeared to be deserted. Tanner sensed my hesitation. He shook his head and grabbed my arm.
“Let’s go, Goldilocks,” Tanner teased as he yanked me towards the old shack.
Goldilocks, my ass — Let’s just hope all we find in there is a pot of porridge!
There was no lock on the door, so Tanner pulled it open with ease.
“We’re just going in?” I whispered uneasily.
“Yes. You have to earn your wings sometime. He obviously doesn’t care. See, no lock,” Tanner mocked as he swung the door back and forth. “If you ask me, he’s just inviting someone in,” he announced boldly.
I nervously interjected, “Maybe he doesn’t have to lock it because people know how crazy he is, and that nobody would ever dream of breaking into his place to mess with him!”
Tanner nodded. “Good point,” he acknowledged and then jerked me into the eerie old shack.
“See if you can shed some light on this situation, will you?” Tanner asked as he pointed to the golden topaz on my finger.
Only a tiny amount of light radiated from the ring, and not a sad second later, it was gone. That, I feared, was the last speck of magic it held. I gave it a couple of vigorous and hopeful shakes, just to be certain.
Tanner grabbed my wrist. “It’s not a flashlight, Shiloh.” He raised my hand for a closer inspection. “Yeah. You’ll have to wait a couple more days to restore its powers,” Tanner divulged. Even with what little light there had been temporarily, Tanner managed to locate an old kerosene lamp. Once lit, the tiny shack was more visible, but looked even creepier than it had in the dark.
The entire space was dirty and reeked of a foul stench. It smelled like something rotten with a dash of raw sewage. Yuck! I scanned all around. We were standing on a worn-out, nasty-looking shag rug. On one side of the room, a tattered mattress was lying on top of a dirt-covered floor and a filthy, makeshift kitchen was sitting on the other. A metal washtub filled with grimy dishes and rotting food caught my eye (and my nose).
I don’t know what makes me want to puke more, the sight or the smell?
“Can we go now,” I begged. “He’s obviously not home. Maybe he’s out in search of a maid.”
Tanner became extremely still and shushed me. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.
I focused intently on the sounds around me. My ears sensed some sort of faint rhythmic vibration. In unison, we looked down at the dirty old shag rug. It sounded like it was coming from underneath us. I stepped back as Tanner knelt down and whipped back the rug. To Tanner’s sheer delight and my complete dismay, we discovered a wooden trap door that had been concealed by the covering on the floor. He lifted up the secret hatch. A faint glow radiating up from under the ground illuminated a set of wooden steps that led down into some sort of basement.
Tanner tapped his hand on his chin. “I can’t remember. Is it women or children, first?”
I gruffly pointed at him. “Actually, I think it’s the elderly…Old man.” I motioned him towards the trap door and grunted. “You first.”
As silently as possible, we started our descent down the rickety wooden steps. Tanner led the way, while I trailed close behind him. I cringed as every step was met with an alarming creak from the shoddy old staircase. Tanner shushed me again. Even with all of my newfound balance training from earlier today, the steps were entirely too wobbly. I braced myself against the sidewalls of what appeared to be a cave-like basement. I held on to them the entire way down. That helped me steady my weight and also worked to subdue any additional sounds coming from the noisy, rotting wood steps.
As we reached the bottom, I started to feel sluggish and kind of weak. Tanner called for me to follow, but I motioned for him to wait. I was leaning against one of the rough, stone covered walls of the basement when Tanner placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t chicken out on me now,” he cracked.
I remained where I was, propped up against the earthy wall and mumbled, “It’s not that. I don’t feel very well.”
“Suck it up, little girl. You’re not alone down here.” A curious look appeared on his face. “How do you feel, exactly?”
“Not frightened, just exhausted…and nauseous,” I replied. My body began to slump, and I started to slide down the bumpy stone-covered wall.
Tanner noticed something. His eyes widened, and then he swiftly pulled me into his arms.
“Shiloh, you can’t touch the walls down here. Do you hear me?”
“Okay…Why?” I asked.
“Remember when I told you that iron is toxic to Talismans? Except for those who claim an earth stone?”
“Yes.”
Tanner pointed to the walls and ordered, “Look at them.”
I visually inspected the peculiar terracotta stones lining the earthy basement. Oodles of dark-gray, shiny metallic deposits were scattered sporadically all along its rugged surface and reflected what little light was down here.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That’s hematite,” Tanner declared. “It’s a source of—”
I finished his assessment, “Let me guess…Iron?”
Tanner confirmed my assumption with a stern nod. “You’ll feel better in a few more seconds, just whatever you do—”
“I know. Don’t touch the walls,” I repeated.
Tanner’s brow began to furrow. “You’re not as familiar with the iron’s effects as I am. Maybe you should wait for me outside?”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “If you can do it, so can I,” my competitive voice rang out.
The sounds of distant chanting pierced the air and turned our gazes towards a doorway up ahead. The muffled groans and wailing calls led us to an open passageway. Tanner and I crouched down and cautiously crept inside the confined tunnel-like corridor. A bright light coming from up ahead illuminated our path. The hematite walls that lined our route had been carved with strange symbols, unlike any I’d ever seen. The markings appeared crude in nature and reminded me of ancient hieroglyphics. Only one symbol was easily identifiable — a snake.
Oh yeah, we’re definitely on the right track.
The soft glow intensified the farther we crept. Tanner halted abruptly and motioned me down further to the ground. We were about to enter a room where our passageway was coming to an end. As we crept inside, I glanced up to spy a serpent that had been carved into one of the stones arching over the door. Repulsed by the image, I shook my head. Well, at least his décor’s “theme” is consistent.
Tanner’s backside was blocking my view, but he pulled me over to an area where several large crates had been stacked by the door. We scrunched down behind them and paused for a moment. Someone in the room was chanting, and the sound of maracas shaking rattled the air around us. Tanner rose up from behind the dusty old crates to get a closer look. I was too absorbed with the room’s appearance at our rear. The walls still had bizarre carvings scribbled all over its surface, but there were also od
d-looking holes that had been bore into them. Their placement was erratic, and they all stretched haphazardly across the back of the room.
Tanner tapped my shoulder and signaled me up for a closer look. My eyes started to swell from the spine-chilling scene. A man, who judging by the mussed, wiry black and white hair was Mr. Estell, was standing in front of some sort of alter. His back was turned to us, and he was dressed in a long, oversized black cloak. His hands were violently flailing about in an odd ritualistic manner while he continued to wail and moan uncontrollably. Despite being freakishly alarmed, I simply couldn’t turn away. Mr. Estell appeared to be focusing on something resting on top of the altar that lay concealed under a red fabric drape.
We watched him remove something from a metal box that sat on the altar to his right. He cupped the small item in his hands and placed the object up to his face. Judging by the gagging and grunting sounds, Mr. Estell appeared to have shoved whatever it was into his mouth. He let out a blood-curdling scream as he forced the object into place. Next, Mr. Estell picked up a small dagger and waved it in the air. He then began to speak in an unfamiliar gibberish and proceeded to drive the sharp tip of the blade deep into his hand. Blood flowed out of the wound and down his exposed arm, but he didn’t scream. The pain seemed to excite him. Not a second later, he lifted up the red drape covering the mystery object on the altar and threw it off to the side.
Tanner covered my eyes and jerked me back down behind the crates. Though I’d only caught a small glimpse of the object, I got the impression that he knew exactly what it was.
Tanner’s voice was rigid as he whispered, “Shiloh, this is extremely important. DO NOT LOOK at the mirror on the altar. Do you hear me? That’s a black obsidian mirror. It’s a gift to him from the Onyx. Not only does the mirror capture your reflection, but its gazer finds themselves locked in a trance. Black obsidian pulls thoughts and visions from your mind…your deepest desires…and forces your eyes to play tricks on you. There’s no psychic protection against it. The Onyx is notorious for using them. The black obsidian will spawn a dark curse. It grants a gift to the person who gazes into it, whatever they desire…but you must surrender your soul voluntarily to the one who lays claim to the mirror. That’s how it fools your free will into giving up your soul. Mr. Estell will never get it back and will have to do whatever the Onyx commands…bound to him and under his spell, inescapably. The willing soul of a human is a very powerful thing, Shiloh. The Onyx craves them because a soul without resistance heightens his dark power. We’ll stay behind here until the ceremony is complete. He’ll have to place his blood on the mirror, and then the obsidian will shatter, binding their deal.”
