At the far end of the room, another door. This one was of a plain wood like the entrance to a shed in a neighbor’s backyard. Some of the men were entering and exiting from it, carrying black robes and silver masks and passing them around to their fellow conspirators. Megan assumed the door led to a storage area in the back, but her eyes were primarily fixed on that altar. From her position, she could see dry blood stains decorating the top and running down random areas of the side facing her. She knew immediately that her end would take place there. She knew it wouldn’t happen quickly.
“My friends,” Father Paul’s voice spoke from somewhere behind her, “let us take a moment to celebrate our success up to this point.”
The men and women had finished their preparatory tasks and gave their attention to their apparent leader.
“First,” the priest continued, “I would like to begin by saying it’s wonderful to have us all together again since our last ceremony. Everyone’s looking well. Senator, I’d say you’re looking healthy. Jennifer must be forcing that heart-healthy diet on you.”
The congregation chuckled with good humor. “She’s always worried about cholesterol,” the Senator replied with a hearty laugh. “I keep telling her the triglyceride thing’s genetic, but you know my wife. She’s even signed us up at the Y. Having me do laps in the pool every morning.”
Father Paul offered a friendly laugh in return. “Well, it’s doing wonders for you, sir. You be sure to give her my blessing when you see her.
“Judge, I take it your vacation in the Keys went well. I’m jealous of that tan you brought back with you.”
“Nice to be back, Father,” the man whom Father Paul introduced as Judge Dickson said simply.
“Everyone else,” the priest went on, “I’ve seen you about throughout the past few weeks, and I must congratulate you on all of your efforts to make tonight possible. We wouldn’t have come so far, so easily, if not for your careful and scrupulous planning. Everything is transpiring accordingly, and you all deserve a round of applause.”
The group approved with “thank you’s” and “well said’s” and brought their hands together.
Father Paul had made his way within Megan’s eyesight. She could see his delight from having taken center stage at this time. He raised his hands to quiet the rest and continued. “I would especially like to thank Stephen and Diana in the Primary Circle, and William, our dear chief of police in the Secondary Circle. Their tireless commitment to our cause has been demonstrated time and time again. Their skills in strategic planning are irreplaceable, and I would personally put them up for a hefty raise in their salaries… if they actually needed them.
The men and women all began to laugh again as their applause resumed. Megan watched as Father Paul nodded with gratitude, assumedly toward his three colleagues to whom he had just offered recognition.
The congregation quieted down again as the priest went on with his speech. “On a personal note, I have to admit that I’m feeling rather excited about tonight. My friends, this is the furthest we’ve ever come in the Cycle of a Dark Year. I know all of you have felt the effects so far. We know that Dark Years do not come often. We haven’t had the opportunity in a very long time. Now that it’s upon us again, we must double our efforts to ensure that it is completed this time. It’s easy to anticipate the end, I know. It’s likely that we are already celebrating prematurely. After all, the architect’s masterpiece becomes a reality in his own mind before his work is done. As he envisions it, he begins to build. He sees its beauty before anyone else. But he continues to exercise precision and careful attention to detail as he works. We must act as diligently during this time.”
Words of agreement followed from the group.
“But,” Father Paul began again, “it is our time. As each ceremony is completed, our power grows, thereby causing each proceeding ceremony easier to accomplish. In addition, we have obtained unlimited resources in a flawless system constructed throughout the ages. Our numbers are many. We have not yet reached the halfway point, but believe me. The end is in sight. We will all bask in the glory of this sacred series of rituals once the thirteenth sacrifice had been sealed. We will walk alongside of the master and our lord of darkness in a new world that will be ours to nurture.”
Thunderous applause complimented the priest as he raised his arms dramatically.
“We of the Primary Circle will be the first of a new order. Those of you in the Secondary Circle will take our place as administrators of our word and law. And when the time comes, you will embark on your own journey and complete your own Cycle in the following Dark Year. It may not happen for quite some time, but when it does, the journey for you will be less strenuous. For you will have us to support you with our unquenchable resources. You will have your own Secondary Circle to support you as well. You will more than likely inspire them with words similar to my own.”
He paused to allow the five members of the Secondary Circle to applaud.
“And to everyone present, I say to you: we will keep the end result in mind, but we should not dismiss the pleasure of our growth during the process itself. The architect would not complete his masterpiece, if the work he puts into it were not a passion for him. This is our time, my friends. Let us enjoy every moment of the journey as much as we shall enjoy the destination.”
Further applause was now accompanied with cheers and whistles. Megan pictured the men and women behind her side-hugging each other as they celebrated their twisted party. Had any of them regarded the fact that they were taking innocent lives? A silly question, she thought. Does a spider pity the fly it ensnares?
“So,” Father Paul concluded, “there’s something we were supposed to do tonight…” More laughter. “Oh yes. Megan, my dear.” He turned to face her with a sinister grin. “We thank you for your contribution to our cause.” Then he turned back to his audience. “Let’s say we get started, shall we?”
The chills in Megan’s spine accumulated as the priest approached her and leaned closely to her ear. “Move to the altar now, girl. Then turn around and sit on top of it.” With no will of her own, her body complied. As she turned to face the gathering of dark worshipers, she noticed that they were busy dressing themselves in the dark robes and fearful masks. All but two men, Things One and Two, who were stationary in the two opposite corners of the back of the room, against the same wall of the large door that led to her temporary quarters. They remained there like sentries, the only two figures who were not engaged in any of the preparations like the rest of the group.
Both Father Paul and Diana approached her, the former setting a black chalice at the foot of the altar, the latter just standing before her, tracing one long fingernail up her shivering bare thigh. “I promise honey,” she whispered with a menacing smile, “this will hurt. A lot.” Father Paul gave the woman a playful glance as if to say, is that really necessary?
In a more serious tone the woman addressed the priest; “Nice speech, Paul. But I couldn’t help notice how much effort it took to subdue this one back there. Should we be concerned?”
Father Paul shook his head, waving his hand away with a carefree gesture. “Actually, I’ve no doubt it’s a blessing for us. It shows how strong her life force is. Probably because of her age.” He began to run his fingers through Megan’s long, blonde hair. “It’s uncommon these days for a girl as lovely as this one to be pure at… what is she, twenty-three?”
Diana replied with understanding; “The older the virgin, the stronger her life force.”
“And the more power we draw from that life force,” the priest continued. “Once the transfer of the sacrifice is complete tonight, our abilities will gain quite a boost. That, of course, will help us achieve the upcoming ceremonies with greater ease.”
“Perhaps we should target older candidates from this point on then,” Diana suggested. Do we have any upcoming selections that fit the bill?”
“A few. Enough for us to progress quite nicely. As a matter of fa
ct, our twelfth is well in her forties.”
Diana raised an eyebrow. “That old? Don’t you think she’ll be too difficult to hold during the sacrifice?”
The priest shook his head again. “By the time we are at that point in the Cycle, she won’t be. We’ll be much more advanced then. Besides, she won’t cause any resistance physically. In that aspect, she’s rather weak.” He then turned nonchalantly toward the group. “Dr. Matthews?” he called.
A short, pudgy, younger man of Asian descent approached the altar and joined the two. “Dr. Matthews,” Father Paul repeated, “tell us again about the twelfth whom you discovered.”
“Oh yes,” the man said fidgeting, eager to impress his superiors, “one of my patients. She’s in her early forties. Victim of a terrible house fire as a teen. Third degree burns all over her body. Her skin’s deformed like a villain in a horror flick. Quite tragic. If you ask me, we’ll be putting her out of her misery… except that the whole procedure of the ceremony is pretty miserable… for them I mean.”
“Yes, of course,” Father Paul smiled with false empathy. “Quite tragic. Quite unattractive too, unlike our honorable host here.” He ran his fingers through Megan’s hair again as he made the comparison.
“Which is probably why she’s never gotten laid,” Diana said curtly.
The priest stifled a laugh. “At any rate, her age is what’s important. It’s why she’s so fitting for us to save her for the next to last ritual. We’ll be strong enough to subdue her, and her sacrifice will feed our powers to complete our journey.” He seemed lost in thought, his words distant as he spoke. Megan could tell he was focused on his prize, as if he had already won it.
It only took a second for him to come back to the task at hand. “Well,” he resumed, “no time like the present. Megan, be a dear and lie down now.” As she did so, she saw him pull the dagger from under his robes… the dagger from her dream, the one that resembled the eerie penknife from the statue in the priest’s study. She remembered that it once fascinated her. Now that she was reminded of that statue, she understood why the face of the knight bothered her so. Its eyes gleaming with an obsession over its own triumph of the abomination beneath its feet. Now she was convinced that the werewolf was not the one of the two figures that was the true abomination. There are wolves. And there are wolves in sheep’s clothing, as Sonny had mentioned just before betraying her.
From the ceiling above her hung a chandelier designed to match the medieval style of the hundreds of candles. Megan could tell through the corners of her eyes that the altar was now surrounded by five of the robed figures, silver masks now upon their faces. The Primary Circle. She knew the members of the Secondary Circle were close at hand. She knew Things One and Two were standing guard at their posts in the corners; present, but not really bearing witness to the atrocity that she knew now to be inevitable. When she felt the cold metal of the chalice press against her inner thighs, she would have winced if she could, in fearful premonition of what was to come, the way she would brace herself as a child during a thunderstorm when she would see a flash of lightning, preparing herself for the deafening crash that would follow.
Then it happened. The pulsing throb from her innards initiating a sickening flow from her womanhood. Megan seemed to realize that they were drawing the escaping blood from her natural, monthly event. Yet it hadn’t been natural. She had been bleeding for much longer than what was natural. She had hoped it was stress related. But somehow, they had done something to her to prolong her period. If she had any control, she would have forced her bowels to shit on that demon’s goblet the priest held against her. But she was unable to force the slightest twitch. She couldn’t even let off a good fart in his direction.
The priest lifted the cup above his head, as he passed the fearsome dagger to the next robed figure to her right. Then, in a voice that was raspy, unlike the voice she heard him use during so many of his homilies at Mass, the priest spoke underneath his silver mask; “In the name of the dark lord and his minions, we draw the life force of the virgin so that we may serve him with the power that will be ours. We will use this power to carry out his message to humanity; the message that he is the one who will rule for all eternity, and only his true followers will receive his generous rewards and share his dominion over man.”
Voices responded in unison; “We are his servants and his agents forever.”
The figure on her left, holding the dagger took hold of her right wrist and leaned down to her ear. “I only need to slice small slits in your fingers dear,” the voice of Diana Palmer whispered, “but I did promise this would hurt a lot.”
Megan’s heart raced inside her chest. She tried to focus. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He…” then her vocal chords forced out a terrible scream through an open mouth that did not move. The pain was excruciating. If she could have slid her eyeballs to her right, she would have just seen the woman jam the tip of the knife under the nail of her thumb.
Chapter XIII
His name was David Keane. Once. He no longer remembered that name. He no longer remembered anything of his past life. No longer cared. All he cared for was pleasing her. Only by serving her, by doing her bidding with absolute loyalty did he accomplish this. He never thought of himself, never wondered if he had a family who missed him. He never thought of anything other than what she demanded of him. That was all he knew. All he aspired to.
If his mind were his own, the man who was David Keane would have remembered that he was a nobody to begin with. He had had no family or friends. He was a loner, and he was fine with that. In his younger days he was a bully, getting his kicks from kicking down those weaker, both physically and psychologically. Tormenting other kids at school was fun. It got laughs from others like him. As a teen he thrived on the thrill of mischief, never taking into consideration how his selfish actions affected his victims. He would have remembered engaging in a dangerous activity known to him and his cronies as “The Knockout Game.” Walking in a group down a street or an alley, he or one of his posse would wait until a single, unsuspecting person would pass by, minding his or her own business. One of them would quickly move behind the victim and clock him, or her, hard enough in the temple to make him drop. The victim would be rendered unconscious even before hitting the ground, unable to raise his hands to brace himself from the fall.
He would have remembered taking a hefty swing at a harmless Muslim girl in a New York City subway station where there was no one nearby to witness. She had been a tiny thing. After assaulting the poor woman, he and his friends had continued strolling along, without any fear of consequences. No one had been there to witness. Had he killed the woman? He didn’t care back then any more than he remembered now.
After dropping out of high school by junior year, his violent pranks ceased and were replaced by violent robberies. Before, he had assaulted people for fun. Later, it had been for wallets, watches, purses, and necklaces. He had lost companionship with his like-minded pals and worked solo. He all but made a profession of it, never being able to hold an honest job for more than a couple months. He had been good at what he did. Until he had finally gotten caught.
Five years in the slammer before possible parole. It wasn’t granted, but his sentence henceforth was lessened under the condition that he attend therapy provided by the state. A shrink was to come to the facility and spend two one-hour sessions with him every week in order to assess his progress with rehabilitation. That was when he had first met her.
Little by little, she had worked her hypnosis on him. He was a strong man, but with a weak mind. It had taken less than a year to turn him completely.
Now, he was no longer weak-minded. Just mindless. He was one of her Erased, and his only thought was what she wanted. As of now, it was to stand guard over the wino he had been ordered to beat and abduct for whatever purpose she had for him. He had no idea what liquid was in the syringe when he was ordered to inject the bum with it. He didn’t care. He was pleasing her,
and that was all that mattered.
“Hey man,” the vagabond spoke in a dazed, woozy voice as he lay on the mattress with abnormal dizziness, “you got sumpin ta drink ‘round here? Feels like I ate fuckin’ sand.” He ignored the bum. He didn’t even notice that he was trying to speak. It wasn’t her voice, so it didn’t matter.
“An turn that goddam spot light off, will ya? Eyes burnin’ like hell. Wish everting else wuz burnin’. S’cold in here.” The bum rolled slightly left and right as if he were trying to get out of bed.
He only moved his eyeballs toward the wino when he noticed movement, but nothing that compromised his orders to watch him transpired, so he refocused his empty gaze dead ahead.
“Cold,” the homeless man repeated. Then, with a voice that would not win him any Grammies, he began to sing weakly. “Tho’ iss cold an loney inna deep darg niiight! I can see pair-a-dice by da dash bore liiiight!” The sedated man began to issue a broken laugh followed by coughing. “I ain’t no Cliff, ya dummies. I’m fuckin’ Meatloaf!”
After another short series of coughs he resumed his less than adequate musical performance. “We wuz bare-lee sev-teen an we wuz bare-lee dress!”
The singing didn’t bother him in the slightest. If he were still David Keane he would have punched him in the gut by now, maybe even cut out his tongue, but nothing penetrated his nerves, not unless she wanted something to.
Just as the singing vagabond took a breath to continue his cat-meowing, something did catch the Erased’s attention. Something that might’ve been a threat to his orders. Very slowly, the wooden door at the other end of the room opened.
“Wer gonna go all-uh way t’night, gonna go all-uh way an tonightsa night…”
He fixed his eyes on the opening but saw only darkness.
“Wer gonna go all-uh way t’night, gonna go all-uh way an tonightsa night…”
The Paladin's Message (The Keepers of White Book 2) Page 28
