Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles)

by Joshua Grove

  “Yes, Anna, and that’s why I brought him here.”

  “Could someone please tell me what the hell this conversation is about?” she moaned.

  “Anna, the kingdom to which I am referring lies outside of what you believe to be the natural world,” Anish said.

  “You mean supernatural?” Anna asked, almost laughing at herself for saying it out loud. She shook her head.

  “Supernatural? By your cultural definition, yes,” Anish said. “But this lies far beyond simplistic rationalizations and logical explanations for things that go bump in the night.”

  “You seem like a nice man, Anish. And you seem like you don’t take any crap. So I’m going to just say it,” Anna said.

  “By all means,” Anish replied.

  “Are you trying to tell me that this is some sort of spiritual thing? That our killer is not human?”

  “As I said before, Anna, I cannot be sure. But understand that when I say that, I am not saying that a human is not involved. I am simply saying that if the killer is human, he is also nonhuman.”

  “What does that mean?” Anna asked, flustered again.

  “It simply means that our killer is conspiring with forces that are not of the physical world as you know it,” Anish said.

  “You mean you think it’s Satanism or something like that?” Anna asked, astounded.

  “Something like that,” Anish said. “I will know more once I have seen the body and have had the necessary time to investigate.”

  Anna pushed her foot down against the gas, almost doubling their speed. Although David’s office was three miles down the road, they got there in less than five minutes. When she pulled into the lot and parked, she put both hands on the wheel and squeezed it hard.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Anna said. “I’m just trying to be honest.”

  “And I appreciate your honesty and understand your skepticism,” Anish responded. “I will return your honesty with a bit of my own. Regardless of how you might feel, it does not make the situation any less real.”

  Anna couldn’t argue with him there. “I understand that.”

  “Are you a woman of faith, Anna?” Anish asked.

  “Uh, yes, I am. I am a Christian.”

  “It does not matter what your faith is, Anna. Just that you have it. And most importantly, that you keep it.”

  I’ll do my best, she thought to herself.

  “And it is most crucial that you make sure your best is good enough to maintain that faith and hope,” Anish said.

  Had I said that out loud? Anna thought to herself. She looked at Anish before stepping out of the car. “I’ll do my best,” she said out loud to him.

  “You do that,” Anish said. They walked again in silence toward the morgue and the body of Alan Brickton.

  “Anish?” Anna said as they passed through the entrance doors.

  “Yes, Anna?”

  “Do you have faith?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I live by it,” he said.

  “Faith is overrated,” David said rudely.

  “So is the reign of science over thousands of years of wisdom and ancestral knowledge,” Anish quipped.

  “We’ll see which one comes out on top,” David teased. Both men laughed.

  “Faith is already victorious,” Anish said as if it were a widely accepted truth. “You just don’t know it yet. Now, take me to the body.”

  For the third time in the brief span since they had met in her office, they walked in silence as they entered the morgue.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hidden

  1

  Michael struggled against the man feeding on his neck. The grotesque gurgling sounds of blood caused such a wretched feeling in his body he wasn’t sure he could handle it. But he knew he didn’t have any choice. He held his breath, hoping he would pass out from lack of air. It didn’t work.

  “Please just kill me, Alan. Please put me out of my misery,” he begged. He now understood what it must feel like to be raped or violated in some terrible way. He wanted nothing more than to kill him, to rip him apart limb by wicked limb. He tried to rip his hands free of the chains that bound him, but all he did was rip more skin from his wrists.

  Michael was continuously groaning, wanting to stop so the bastard didn’t get any pleasure from it. But it was just one more thing he could not control. He spit on him, tried to bite him, but nothing could keep this sociopath from licking, biting, and sucking his neck. Nothing could stop this creature from eating him alive. Michael was almost to the point where he believed that Alan might be a vampire. The thought was so absurd he shoved it away. Then again, all of this was so ridiculously unnatural that almost anything could be possible.

  Suddenly Alan stopped his insane gorging, twisting to the side as if he had heard something. Michael tried to look through his peripheral vision, afraid to turn his head. He saw a faint glow of light, almost like candles had been lit in the distance. A deep, raspy growl came from Alan and he loosened his tight grip on Michael. Jumping on the opportunity, Michael kicked Alan in the groin as hard as he could. Certainly he would feel that pain. Instead, Alan looked directly in Michael’s eye and grinned. Although it only lasted a few seconds at most, Michael could have sworn he saw Alan’s face change. His lips seemed to disappear, revealing terrible teeth and the stench of rotting meat.

  Alan let go and in a flash he was gone. Michael was not even sure which direction he had run. He was there and then he wasn’t. He figured something must have spooked him, but even with the bastard out of sight, Michael still couldn’t escape. The only thing that could save him was another person. But even then, Alan was probably lurking in the dark somewhere, waiting to add to his buffet of human flesh and blood.

  Help me! Michael tried to say, but all he could do was think it. When he tried to speak, his throat hurt so terribly that he thought he was going to pass out from the pain.

  I can’t pass out now! Not when help may be here! He was afraid to even think it was possible that he could survive this nightmare. He remembered in his training that people should cling to hope in survival situations, but at this point hope seemed to be his enemy.

  He tried to speak again, but nothing came out. It was like he was in a dream where he couldn’t scream and couldn’t run. The sound of voices began drifting toward him. They faded in and out.

  I’m hallucinating, he thought to himself. No one is coming to get me. I’m going to die in this place. My God, I’m going to die.

  Michael decided that no matter how much it hurt, or how difficult it was to make sound, he needed to try to scream. After a few failed and painful attempts, he managed to let out a decent howl.

  “Help me!”

  Silence.

  * * * * * *

  2

  “It is ungodly cold in here,” Amy said as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Ungodly indeed,” Matthew agreed. They slowly followed the narrow, underground passage beneath the Brickton house. “I’m getting the feeling that we are no longer under the house.”

  “Gee, whatever gave you that impression?” Amy laughed. “Perhaps it’s because it feels like we’ve been walking for a long time?”

  “It’s amazing to think that we must be beneath the woods. I wonder how they managed to move the roots without destroying the trees.”

  “Really?” Amy asked, amazed. “That’s what you’re wondering to yourself? I would think we should be more concerned with what’s ahead of us or behind us than what’s above us. And certainly that’s more important than how they built this tunnel.”

  Matthew knew she was right, but it was simply a defense mechanism he developed when studying exorcism at the Vatican. Sometimes it’s better to let the mind work on the difficult tasks unconsciously. Meanwhile, you wonder about trees, rocks, and home décor.

  “It’s just something I do,” was all he could say to her.

  “I get that,” Amy sighed. “Honestly, I was
just thinking about whether I should get new glasses. All I ever do is push these damned things up my nose.” She paused. “That didn’t sound right.”

  Matthew laughed. “I would imagine pushing them up your nose might prove to be a difficult task. And painful.”

  “Seriously, though,” Amy began, “What do you think we’ll find ahead of us?”

  “My gut tells me that we will find some sort of sanctuary,” he mused.

  “I’m imagining a beautiful bird sanctuary,” she joked.

  “No, I’m thinking more like a sanctuary at one of our churches.”

  “So do you think it’s a place where he practices black magic?”

  Matthew thought for a moment. “No, I doubt it. Well, perhaps he has managed to cast spells. I have a feeling he is into the dark arts, perhaps even worshipping demons.”

  “You mean like Satanism?” Amy asked.

  “Well, yes and no. Not your cardboard cutout, commercialized Satanism.”

  “I’m not even sure what you mean by that,” Amy confessed.

  “I mean he probably doesn’t believe in the Christian devil. Most demons distort truth, and they’re unlikely to reveal that they have some sort of master. That makes them seem less powerful.”

  “That makes sense,” Amy agreed. “You must have had quite the experience when you studied in Rome.”

  “And then some,” he admitted. “But nothing can really prepare you for coming face to face with evil.” He scratched his head. “Come to think of it, even once you’ve been through it, I doubt you’re ever desensitized to it.”

  “That’s probably part of the lure for Alan and people like him,” Amy assumed.

  “Probably,” Matthew agreed.

  He liked Amy. Although untrained in the Roman Ritual, the history of demonology, and various practices across religions, she was highly intelligent and a fast learner. He couldn’t help but wish he had someone from Rome here to help them. If in fact they were about to encounter a supernatural presence, this would be the first time he had to fight evil alone. He was only an expert on demons, not other spiritual entities. That could prove to be more complicated – perhaps even fatal. He didn’t want to give Amy the impression that they might be walking into a very dangerous situation.

  “It keeps getting colder,” Amy observed. “I can see my breath. That can’t be natural, or good.”

  “I agree,” Matthew said. “We can turn around if you want. Bring some reinforcements.” They stopped walking as Amy turned toward him.

  “I think we should keep moving,” she said. “Even if there’s a demonic presence, I think we can handle it.”

  Matthew wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He had let his curiosity get the best of him. They were not prepared for spiritual warfare. They had no holy water, no crosses, no Roman handbook.

  Suddenly a massive pressure pushed against his chest. He found it difficult to breathe. Amy immediately noticed his struggle.

  “What’s wrong, Matthew?”

  “Can’t . . . breathe.” He had not felt such a strong presence working against him since his last exorcism. When that happened there had been four other trained, experienced priests in the room to help him. As quickly as the pressure appeared, it was gone again. He gasped for air, which was harsh and cold.

  “Are you okay?” Amy wailed.

  “Yeah, I think so,” he said. He calmed himself, taking deep breaths and trying to sense his surroundings for additional evils. “Something doesn’t want us down here.”

  “I kind of figured as much,” Amy agreed. “I think maybe we are out of our element.”

  “I don’t think it’s so much that we’re out of our element as much as we have not made the necessary preparations to encounter evil.”

  As they turned around and headed back toward the library, they heard a muffled scream behind them. Both Matthew and Amy froze.

  “Did you hear that?” Amy asked nervously.

  “I did,” Matthew said. He knew they had to try and help whoever was trapped, but for a moment he argued with himself. Would it be better if they went back to the library and look for the materials he needed? He could certainly bless water and at least be somewhat better fortified with the right equipment. But he also knew that time might be of the essence. Could he forgive himself if they came back and a person had been killed? Then again, what if all of them died because they hadn’t taken the necessary precautions?

  “We can’t leave someone down here,” she said when Matthew remained silent.

  “It’s not like I want to do that,” Matthew admitted. “But I also don’t want to get ourselves killed, either.”

  “I think that might be overstating it a bit,” Amy said, but he noticed she immediately disagreed with herself. “Okay, so maybe that isn’t an overstatement. But still, how could we just leave them?”

  “Amy, it’s possible that the person screaming isn’t a person at all. It might be the demon trying to lure us into its lair.”

  “Oh, shit,” she said, knowing he was right. Matthew didn’t want to be right, but it was a distinct possibility that they could be walking into a trap.

  As they walked toward the large, round ring of darkness just beyond the flickering lamps, Matthew continued to sense the presence of evil. Although not pressing up against him, or trying to chase him away, he knew they were not alone. He just couldn’t figure out what, or where, the presence was. When they reached the opening to the dark room, he reached up and grabbed a lamp.

  “You ready?” he asked Amy.

  “As ready as I’m gonna be,” Amy laughed. “Let’s do it.”

  Matthew led her into the room, and immediately they smelled a foul aroma. Its pungent stench practically smacked them in the face.

  “Holy Jesus,” Amy whispered. “It smells like something has been dead in here a long time.” She paused. “It smells like death.”

  “Listen,” Matthew said curtly. “Do you hear that?” He was positive he heard the sound of water, almost like a stream.

  “Yeah, there must be water somewhere, but it’s hard to see. It’s almost like the darkness is fighting against the lamp,” Amy said.

  She’s right, he thought to himself. It’s almost as if the darkness is alive and has its hands around the flame to keep it from revealing its presence. All of a sudden he heard the sound of chains rattling to his right, followed by the sound of someone moaning. Amy grabbed Matthew’s sleeve. He lifted the lamp a bit higher and began moving to his right.

  “Jesus!” Amy said as her grip on his shoulder tightened sharply. “Something just brushed by me.”

  “What did it feel like?” Matthew asked.

  “Almost like the wind, but with force. Kind of like what it feels like when a car flies right by you at sixty miles per hour.”

  “Stay close,” Matthew said. He could sort of make out a figure ahead of them, but wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Just then he heard the chains making noise again.

  “I think there’s someone there,” Amy mumbled as they strained to look. They approached the mysterious shape slowly, unsure what might happen once they reached it. The closer they got, the more Matthew realized that someone was tied up with their hands above their head.

  God I wish I had more light, Matthew thought to himself.

  “I think that’s a cop,” Matthew whispered.

  “My God!” Amy gasped. “It’s Michael Mullins!”

  Matthew surveyed Michael’s wounds, then lifted the lamp higher to see if he could unbind his hands. “Shit, there’s a lock on them,” he grumbled. As Matthew tried to see if he could free him, Michael tried to kick him.

  “Michael, Michael, it’s Father McMillan. And Pastor Amy is here, too. You’re going to be okay,” he said, only half believing his own words.

  “Am I dead?” Michael asked in a raspy, tired voice.

  “You’re very much alive,” Matthew promised. “But we need to find a way to get you out of these chains.”

 
; “You’re not Father Matthew!” Michael said in a raspy voice. “It’s not real. I’m going to die.”

  As Michael continued to babble quietly, Matthew noticed that Amy was crawling on the floor. Her loud voice startled him. “I found a key!” She quickly stood up. “Here, give me the light. I’ll shine it on his hands.”

  “Great,” Matthew said, happy that something positive was happening. He fumbled with the key, thinking at first that the key didn’t fit the hole. When he was finally able to turn the key, both he and Amy exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

  “We’re gonna get you out of here,” Amy swore. Once out of the chains, Michael fell heavily into their arms.

  “Can you walk?” Matthew asked Michael.

  “I can sure try,” he said slowly. “There’s some kind of monster down here. I’m serious.”

  “We believe you,” Matthew assured him. “I can feel its presence.”

  “He was feeding on me. Alan was feeding on me.”

  “I don’t understand, Michael,” Matthew said. “What do you mean?”

  “Alan Brickton is alive. And he was drinking my blood like a vampire.” Although Michael was having trouble talking clearly, his voice tired and broken, Matthew thought he seemed relatively lucid. But when he saw Michael’s neck and eye, he had a feeling that Michael had been hallucinating. Judging from the wounds on his neck and face, it made sense. He had lost a lot of blood.

  “You’re lucky to be walking, my friend,” Matthew laughed. “You have a strong survival instinct. Your adrenaline is keeping you alive. Just hold on a little longer.”

  They walked back into the passageway, still lit by the lamps. Matthew was expecting another gust of wind to extinguish them, or perhaps another visit from the demon. But nothing happened.

  “Do you hear that?” Amy asked, helping Matthew carry Michael. Matthew listened again. He knew something was in front of them and moving toward them. Then he saw a small light appear in the distance, growing brighter as it closed the gap between them.