by S.E. Akers
A horrible sinking feeling sent my shoulders into a slump. I knew it… Though as soon as I buried my head down against Tanner’s back, all the gut-churning dread quickly subsided. At least the feeling did. My thoughts were still clear. I knew whom we were in search of and why.
We arrived at the Church of Divine Faith in Jolo in no time. Both sides of the narrow, curvy road were littered with vehicles that led all the way to the church’s crowded parking lot.
Tanner squeezed his Harley in-between two pick-ups and cut the engine. “Well, look at that. You managed to get here in one-piece,” he teased.
We were the only ones standing outside the church and judging from the muffled sounds of music and sporadic wails coming from inside, it appeared the service had already begun. But I wasn’t in any hurry to enter.
Tanner rushed me up the stairs straightaway. “See — We’re late!” he scoffed.
I shuddered and shook my head while a multitude of thoughts about what lay behind the weathered, black double-doors battered my mind.
An older woman clutching a stack of programs was greeting parishioners as we entered. She was dressed as any other female church patron would, conservatively, wearing a practically-to-the-floor length floral dress trimmed with lace. Her equally as long hair had been styled in a spiraling up-do, secured in place by numerous bobby pins and gobs of hairspray. The attentive woman quickly put on the horn-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain around her neck and hurried towards us.
“Welcome! Welcome!” the woman joyfully exclaimed and handed me a program. “I’m Flossie Mae Shrewsbury, the pastor’s wife, and you are?”
“Mr. and Mrs. McCoy,” Tanner replied without skipping a beat.
I nodded to Mrs. Shrewsbury somewhat awkwardly, only to find myself on the receiving end of an embarrassingly tight squeeze from the Amethyst Talisman. His affectionate gesture prompted a bashful smile from both the pastor’s wife and me.
“We love to see new faces around here. Please go on in. The service is about to start,” Mrs. Shrewsbury insisted with a smile.
After thanking the woman, Tanner directed me towards the Worship Hall with a nod and then proceeded to beat a path to its doors. My gait, however, was a touch more reluctant than his, what with my mind full of weighty reservations. A large cross I spied hanging on a nearby wall even prompted me into issuing the air a much-needed silent prayer.
Please don’t let there be too many snakes, I pleaded.
The congregation appeared to be a lively group. They were all singing and dancing in the pews while a small band up front played a blue-grassy style of hymn. The modest band consisted of two men, one on a keyboard and the other strumming a banjo, both standing to the left of the pulpit. We found an empty space located at the rear of the church. I stood in the aisle as I searched all around the pew (and under it too), grappling with the harry creeps crawling over my skin with the march of a thousand spider legs.
Tanner pulled me down beside him. “Shiloh, there are no snakes in the pews,” he whispered. I felt a little more at ease until he added, “ . . . Well, not yet.” I quivered and impulsively scooted closer to him. Tanner grinned at my adjusted proximity and whispered, “Do you need to sit on my lap, little girl?”
I swiftly replied with a muffled grunt and then jabbed my elbow straight into his arm.
There’s your answer…
The room had a contemporary and somewhat functional feel to it — a wide-reaching space drenched in an unfussy palette of monochrome beiges. There weren’t a lot of ornamental touches to its interior either. Aside from the typical wooden pews you would find in most any house of worship, the room looked more like a meeting hall with a clear acrylic pulpit standing front and center. Though there was one richly colored stained-glass window located on the wall in front of us. It was a depiction of Adam, along with Eve, who was being tempted by the infamous serpent.
Fitting, I thought confidently.
Once the music had stopped, the pastor sauntered over to the pulpit and began addressing the crowd of parishioners. Though I’d caught the gist of Pastor Shrewsbury’s sermon on “faith”, my mind was too preoccupied with our real reason for being here — to find Mr. Estell. We both searched the crowd relentlessly. Tanner was far more inconspicuous than I was when it came to surveillance. He squeezed my hand several times and whispered, “Not so obvious.” While my eyes continued scanning the room, I happened to notice a little girl with blonde hair woven into pigtails staring at me. I was a bit startled, though the look on her face was nothing like the evil-eye gaze Mr. Estell had shot my way the other day. The little girl eventually smiled, which put my mind at ease. Then I quickly resumed my visual search, though to no avail. Mr. Estell was nowhere to be found.
Soon the message had concluded, and the pastor was closing the service with a prayer. A wave of sheer relief washed over me like a sparkly ray of sunshine. Gratitude was practically seeping out of my pores knowing I’d reached the sermon’s finish line without seeing any slithery “ceremonial additions” that the church was notorious for.
Maybe that’s something they only do on special occasions…like communion?
I was just about to wipe the sweat from my brow when the rear doors flew open with an irksome “SLAM”. Then various members of the congregation started jumping to their feet and speaking in tongues, which sucked that sweet feeling of salvation straight out of me, leaving me gutted and wary-eyed. Apprehensively, I watched a man walk up the aisle carrying a rather large wicker basket and then began mounting my prayers that he was carrying a buttload of bread as he passed.
Sure enough and to my dismay, the man reached into the tall wicker container and started yanking out snakes, left and right. I felt like I was 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 clapping and dancing while they passed 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 the “don’t EVEN think about it” look that had hardened on my face like concrete. 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; I was good-to-go when the pastor fired off his last, “Amen”.
We had no sooner stepped into the hall when a familiar female voice called out, “Leaving so soon?”
I jumped into a chest grab, while Tanner remained cool and collected. Mrs. Flossie Mae Shrewsbury was following us out like a puppy dog, except her tail wasn’t wagging.
“I take it this isn’t your cup of tea?” the woman probed, her suspicious eyes aimed directly at me.
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 accustomed to some of its rituals.” He squeezed my hand and pulled me into another comforting hug. “Forgive her . . . She’s a bit on the squeamish side.”
Mrs. Shrewsbury’s face illuminated a gracious smile. I’d assumed it was fueled by compassion at first, thinking she’d bought Tanner’s explanation. However, the more I observed her body language and the longer I listened in on her thoughts, I realized what was really tugging the corners of her lips like a pair of puppet strings. She’s just in the same disposition that Lila the waitress was in yesterday! This woman was totally captivated by Tanner and hanging on to his every word while she had “less than wholesome thoughts”. And a few of them were downright staggering enough to send the steeple crashing to the ground.
Then with a frisky jerk, Mrs. Shrewsbury took Tanner’s arm in hers and led him into the Fellowship Hall. I followed behind t
hem shaking my head. I felt awful for this poor, unsuspecting lady. Surely she would be mortified if any of the 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 with a quiver.
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 stroking Tanner’s arm, continued, “Unnatural things. Unspeakable things really. They weren’t the church’s beliefs. Truth be told, they were more secular . . . more evil,” she added in a nervous whisper. “He eventually severed his ties with the church — and GOOD RIDDANCE, I’ll say! He hasn’t been a member here for several years.” Then the pastor’s wife looked at Tanner, her eyes batting dubiously. “I can’t imagine you could ever be a friend of his.”
“Do you know where I might find him?” Tanner asked.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Come Hell or high water, we were finding Mr. Estell tonight.
“I think he’s still around somewhere,” Mrs. Shrewsbury speculated. “He used to stay in the small house across the road that the church owns. But when we parted ways, he took his things and left. I still see him around from time to time, but I’m afraid I don’t know his current address.”
The Fellowship Hall’s doors opened abruptly, and the masses began pouring into the room, all of them rushing towards 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’d felt back in the Worship Hall. I could just picture a snake popping out of someone’s pocket at any given moment, and I’d had enough up close encounters with slithery critters in just one week to last an entire lifetime. My skin kept a steady crawl, which shot into more of a rippling spasm whenever someone brushed against my arms. 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 stared up at the night sky as I waited on the steps of the church. There wasn’t a single twinkling star to be found anywhere throughout the celestial stretch of murky grays. The entire scene was a far cry from the beauty of an enchanting sunset unless “foreboding” was your thing. All of a sudden, I felt something lightly tap my shoulder. I gasped uncontrollably (at the thoughts of it being a daggone snake) and whipped around without delay.
I let out a laugh. “Oh, you startled me,” I replied when I spied the little pigtailed girl sitting by my side.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” the little girl replied contritely. “My name’s Gallia. What’s yours?”
In the midst of all the weirdness surrounding 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. Hmmm . . . 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 right out the other. “No,” I confirmed. “We just came by to see if we could find an old friend. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Gallia hummed as she fiddled with the pink ribbons tied on the ends of her pigtails. “Did you find them?”
“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 I felt compelled to humor her. “His name is Mr. Stacie Estell.”
“He’s not here,” she answered immediately.
No kidding, I smiled and nodded.
Gallia tugged on my arm. “But, I know where he lives,” she added. My eyes widened as the little pigtailed girl told me how to get to Mr. Estell’s house. Gallia pointed her finger and instructed, “Up the road and turn onto the dirt trail 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?”
I nodded proudly. “I sure did. I got his address.”
Tanner’s eyes radiated an equal mix of delight and surprise. “From who?”
“A little girl,” I answered as I turned to point out my little pigtailed helper. He followed my finger to the bottom of the steps. “Where is she?” I muttered and then scanned the entire parking lot for Gallia. “She was just here a second ago.” I abandoned my search after several fruitless sweeps. “She’s a little girl,” I shrugged. “They tend to run off.”
Tanner grabbed my arm and led me down the steps, shaking his head as we headed for his Harley. “Yeah . . . I know they do.”
I passed along the sketchy directions to Tanner as we headed down the highway. A couple of 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-covered trail lying beside the vandalized stone.
As we turned onto to the bumpy path, Tanner steered his motorcycle behind a thick cluster of secluded bushes. He hushed its noisy engine and then 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.
My head rocked with several slow and notably skeptical shakes. Well, that’s not going to stop anyone around here from stealing your precious bike. Whatever…
Our pace through the shadowy forest was markedly slow, particularly since we didn’t know what type of dwelling we were looking for or how far it was. Roughly a mile into our explorative woodsy stroll, our eyes spotted a small structure peeking through the darkness. Tanner and I kept ourselves camouflaged behind the cloak of the trees as we crept closer to what turned out to be a run-down old shack in the middle of nowhere. And just going off the way the hairs on the back of my neck were standing at attention, I knew we’d struck gold — ’cause it sure looked spooky enough!
We crouched behind a patch of bushes several feet from the shack. There wasn’t the first trace of light beaming through the windows or any of the cracks, so at least on the surface it appeared deserted.
The Amethyst Talisman sensed my hesitation and prodded me with a blunt poke. “Let’s go, Goldilocks,” he teased and then yanked me towards the old shack.
Goldilocks, my ass… Let’s just hope all we find in there is a pot of porridge. I’d even settle for
three grumpy ole bears instead of one snake-slinging psycho…
Tanner pulled open the door 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.”
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?” Tanner asked as he pointed to the golden topaz on my finger.
Only a tiny amount of light radiated from the ring. Then not a sad second later, it was completely gone. That, I feared, was the last speck of magic it held. I gave it a couple vigorous shakes, hoping I was wrong.
Tanner grabbed my wrist. “It’s not a flashlight.” 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, the eager and resourceful Amethyst Talisman 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.
With a repulsed sneer blazing a critical trail, I commenced with a thorough visual sweep. The entire space gave new meaning to the word “filthy” and reeked of a stench so rank it fell somewhere between mildew and raw sewage on the spectrum of sickening smells. Yuck… My eyes bounced all around. On one side of the room, a soiled and tattered mattress lay on top of a dirt-covered floor while a nasty-looking makeshift kitchen comprised the other. A metal washtub filled with grimy dishes and rotting food caught my eye (as well as the flare of my nostrils). I didn’t know which made me want to puke more: the gross sight or the gagging smell?
“Can we go now?” I appealed. “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.
It was only a matter of seconds before my ears picked up on some sort of faint rhythmic vibration. The muffled noise led our eyes straight down to the worn-out and knotty shag rug underneath our feet. I stepped back as Tanner knelt down and whipped back the rug. To Tanner’s sheer delight and my complete dismay, we discovered that the covering on the floor was concealing a wooden trapdoor. He lifted up the secret hatch. A muted glow rising from the hole in the floor illuminated a set of wooden steps that led down into an earthy basement of sorts.
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.”
With Tanner leading the way, we started our descent down the rickety wooden stairs. I cringed every time one of my steps was met with an alarming creak from the shoddy old staircase. And Tanner shushing me wasn’t helping my nerves. Even with all of my newfound balance training from earlier today, the staircase was entirely too wobbly. I braced myself against the sidewalls of what appeared to be more of a cave than a basement, hoping it would help steady my weight and subdue some of the noise.
I instantly started feeling sluggish and kind of weak. Tanner called for me to follow once I’d reached the bottom, but I motioned for him to wait. I was leaning against one of the rough stone-covered walls 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.” Tanner’s remarks came to a halt when a curious look crept across his face. “How do you feel, exactly?” he asked, sounding more concerned.
“Not frightened, just exhausted . . . and nauseous,” I replied. Then my body fell into a slump and started sliding down the bumpy wall, headed butt-first for the ground.
Tanner pulled me swiftly into his arms. His wide-eyed stare was focusing on the walls when I looked up at him. “Shiloh, you can’t touch the walls down here,” he ordered, his tone solid and stern.
“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, reflecting what little light was down here.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That’s hematite,” Tanner declared. “It’s a source of—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted. “Iron?”
Tanner confirmed my assumption with a grim 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.
Suddenly the sounds of distant chanting turned our gazes towards a nearby doorway. The muffled groans and wailing calls were emanating from somewhere within the depths of the passageway. Tanner and I crouched down and cautiously crept inside the confined, tunnel-like corridor. A light coming from up ahead was building along with our steps. The hematite walls lining our route had been carved with strange symbols, unlike any I’d ever seen. The markings appeared crude in essence and reminded me of ancient hieroglyphics. Though one symbol was easily identifiable — a snake.
We’re definitely on the right track.
The glowing light intensified the further we crept. Tanner halted abruptly and motioned me down to the ground. We were about to enter a room where our passageway was coming to an end. As we slipped inside, I glanced up to spy a serpent that had been carved into one of the stones arching over the door. My stomach shot into a nagging roll. Well, at least his décor’s “theme” is consistent.
With Tanner’s backside blocking my view, I followed his lead 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 while the steady sound of maracas shaking rattled the air. Tanner rose up from behind the dusty old crates to get a closer look. I was too absorbed in the room’s appearance at our rear. The walls still had bizarre carvings scribbled all over its surface, but there were also odd-looking holes that had been bored into them. Their placement was erratic, and they stretched haphazardly all 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 draped in a long black cloak was standing in front of some sort of altar. Though his back was turned, the mussed up clump of wiry-looking black and white hair was a dead giveaway — Mr. Estell. His hands flailed violently in all directions, almost in a ritualistic manner, while he ranted an unsettling stream of eerie chants and moans. Mr. Estell appeared to be focusing his wild gestures on something resting on top of the altar, concealed under a red fabric drape.
We watched him remove something from a small metal box sitting on the altar to his right. He cupped the item in his hands and then slowly lifted it towards his face. Judging from the gagging and grunting sounds, Mr. Estell had to have shoved whatever it was into his mouth. A blood-curdling growl rumbled the air as he forced the object into place. When finished, Mr. Estell picked up a small dagger and began waving it
all around. What sounded like utter gibberish exploded from his mouth and the next thing we knew, the creepy drifter was driving the sharp tip of the blade deep into his hand. Blood gushed out of the wound and down his exposed arm, but he didn’t scream. The pain seemed to excite him. Then within a matter of seconds, he lifted up the red drape concealing the mystery item on the altar and tossed it onto the floor.
Tanner covered my eyes and jerked me back down behind the crates. Though I didn’t get a good enough look at the object, I got the clear impression the Amethyst Talisman 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. The mirror doesn’t just capture one’s reflection, but whoever looks into the glass will become helplessly locked in a trance. Black obsidian pulls visions from your mind, your deepest thoughts, and then 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 sways its victim into giving up their soul willingly. 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 feeds 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.”
“What kind of gift do you think he wants from the Onyx?” I whispered back, anxiously.
Tanner shook his head. “You should be more concerned about what the Onyx wants from him in return.”
There went that sinking feeling again. That wouldn’t be too hard to guess, considering how many times that bastard has already tried to kill me.
While we remained hidden behind the crates, Mr. Estell’s screams grew louder, right along with the strange sounds rattling around us. They were emanating from everywhere, like some sort of supernatural surround-sound. Mr. Estell’s wails heightened into one climactic scream and then stopped. Even the rattling sounds suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Not a second later, we heard something shatter. It had to be the mirror.
Tanner slowly rose from behind the crates to take a peek. He gestured that it was safe, so I stood up beside him. We looked at each other and then back to the center of the room. Oddly enough, Mr. Estell was gone. All that remained were fragments of the shattered black obsidian mirror and the dark cloak lying in a clump on the floor. We both crept slowly towards the wadded up garment. Tanner ran his foot along the edge of the black fabric. Then his stare drifted towards the altar. Shards of obsidian covered in blood littered its surface. As we stepped closer, I spotted the strange box from where Mr. Estell had retrieved whatever he’d shoved into his mouth. I picked up the aged metal box to get an idea as to what could have been inside it.
Tanner snatched it out of my hands. “Give me that! You don’t know what was in there.” He cautiously opened the lid and looked inside.
I leaned over to see for myself. Nothing. It was empty. Tanner swiped his fingers inside the box and raised them for a closer inspection. He was rubbing his fingers together when suddenly his eyes sparked. Then he shoved my hand down inside the box. I noticed a subtle, glittery dust smudging my fingers when I pulled it back out. The tiny specks felt rough and oddly seemed to have scratched the tip of it in a couple of places.
“Diamonds,” Tanner announced. “There were diamonds in here. I think we’d better go — Now!”
Alarmed by Tanner’s declaration, I started unconsciously walking towards the doorway backward. I turned to run but caught myself as I was about to trip on something. I looked down and gasped. A rattlesnake! My instincts took hold, and I automatically kicked my foot, sending the scaly creature hurling across the room.
I spun towards the doorway, only to stop dead in my tracks. My eyes flew open like a clown springing out of an old tin Jack-in-the-box and I jumped back in fright. Tanner was still standing at the altar with his back to me, so I yelled for him to “turn around”. Unbeknownst to us, the room had been filling up with snakes and was now crawling with tons of the vile, venomous creatures. And plenty more of them were still steadily slithering into the chamber all around us through the holes bored into its walls.
“Shiloh, just go — quickly! You won’t get bit. Their fangs can’t penetrate your flesh.”
I hesitated. “What about you? Can you heal yourself from their poison?”
The look on his dispirited face was all the answer I needed. “Not snake venom,” Tanner admitted. “I can only stave off its effects for a short time. Go! I’ll be right behind you.”
I sighed nervously and then headed for the doorway. I managed to dodge several of the smaller rattlesnakes and a few copperheads that were trying their best to bite my legs. Unfortunately, my luck took a turn for the worse pretty daggone quick. Before I could reach the exit, two large rattlers tripped me after swiftly winding their bodies around my legs. As soon as I landed on the ground, an 8-foot copperhead slithered beside my head and started wrapping itself around my neck. Once it had a tight enough hold, it began dragging me towards the hematite-laden walls.
While I tried using my free hands to pull the snakes off me, I noticed Tanner’s predicament was much worse. Several serpents had coiled themselves around him and kept sinking their fangs into his flesh. He attempted to transform into his vapory form several times, but the poisonous venom had already begun draining his strength. I had to break free to help him — soon. I wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
The copperhead jerked me up by my neck, and I now found myself adversely pinned against the wall. Another rattler wrapped itself around one of my wrists. It yanked my bare hand back towards the iron-rich wall, securing my skin’s contact with the energy-draining hematite. My muscles rocked with the drain of its sluggish effects immediately.
As the copperhead continued tightening its grasp, it suddenly dawned on me what to do. Since I wasn’t physically strong enough to remove them, I dug my diamond-hard fingernails into the snake and scraped them down the length of its body. A rush of wet blood and soft tissue squished against my fingers the deeper they sank into its scaly flesh. The copperhead hissed violently as it eased up on its grip. Then with one strenuous tug, I pulled the scaly creature off my neck. I removed the three other snakes keeping me immobile by ripping them open in the same fashion. Yuck! I was covered in bloody snake guts.
Just as I freed myself and started to rush to Tanner’s aid, an ominous rattle rocked the entire room, followed by a long, chilling “HISS-S-S-S-S-S”.
I froze. The noise sounded like it was coming from below. I looked down at the wadded up clump of black fabric on the floor beside Tanner. It was moving…or at least something under it sure was. Suddenly the cloak went airborne and from underneath the deceptive black veil, a gigantic and undeniably supernatural serpent began materializing before my disbelieving eyes and rose from the ground.
Oh shit… I know what happened to Mr. Estell…
The freakish serpent had to be a good twenty-five feet long and carried enough girth that your fingers wouldn’t touch if you tried wrapping both your arms around it. The supernatural snake quickly coiled around the altar and soon spied a very weakened Tanner Grey, struggling to escape from his slithery restraints.
Tanner’s eyes widened at an alarming rate when he spotted the monstrous serpent rearing back to strike him. He was defenseless. There was absolutely nothing he could do what with three huge snakes already coiled around him, binding his arms to his chest. I had to think fast. My strength had returned, so as the serpent lun
ged at Tanner, I quickly grabbed one of the heavy crates and hurled it at its head.
“HEY!” I screamed. My maneuver had successfully blocked the bloodthirsty creature’s attack on Tanner and drew its attention away from him and straight to me.
The creature hissed uncontrollably and then started forming what looked like the makings of a grin. The snake’s mouth stretched opened as wide as it could and revealed its fangs…every sparkly diamond one of them.
Tanner spotted the diamond fangs and yelled, “Get the hell out of here!”
With that said, the serpent reared back to attempt one high-speed lunge my way. I bolted out the door and down the narrow constraints of the earthy tunnel as fast as I could. The ground below me vibrated as the serpent pushed closer and the sound of its hisses grew louder by the second. Once I’d exited the passageway, I made a mad dash for the rickety old stairs and raced up the steps without even taking a breath.
I have to get out of here, but what about Tanner? I have to help him! I can’t let him die back there.
I reached the top and hopped out the trap door just as the head of the snake emerged. Straightaway, I grabbed the hinged wood cover and threw my body on top of it, forcing the fiendish serpent back down into the basement.
The snake kept banging on the trap door, trying to break through it. I looked down. There’s no lock! My body flew up and down violently as I tried to keep the serpent from bursting through the wooden door. I turned my head towards the front door of the shack. It was wide open.
Maybe if I can get outside, I would stand a better chance of killing it rather than being cooped up in here with no room to move? I quickly weighed all of my options. There really wasn’t any, just “fight-it-inside” or “fight-it-outside”. Maybe there’s a garden hoe out there…with a big freaking blade!
Without warning, the pounding stopped. I figured this would be my best chance to make a break for it. Just as I made a swift leap towards the open doorway, the serpent’s head came busting through the trap door. I attempted to run outside, but the serpent had coiled around my waist too quickly, wrapping itself around my body like a mummy, and then jerked me back inside the shack. I tried to push against its grasp, but I was pinned. I couldn’t even move my hands enough to slice my fingernails into its flesh. It continued to coil around me, securing its crushing grip. The serpent’s head drew closer and hovered over me while the rest of its freakish body trailed down into the basement. The snake let out a chilling “hiss-s-s-s” as its gruesome-looking, forked-tongue tapped against my cheek. I grimaced and twisted about, but I couldn’t free myself. The serpent flashed its diamond fangs at me once more. It was rearing back for one final and fatal strike. The diamond fangs could puncture my skin and would assuredly flood my body with its deadly venom. I braced myself for its inevitable attack, knowing I would soon be just a memory.
As the serpent’s head came thrusting at me, I caught the glimpse of something shining brilliantly. In one swift move, Tanner had emerged from the basement behind the serpent and severed the snake’s head slick from its body with a crosscut inflicted by two glowing amethyst swords clenched in his hands. No sooner than the serpent’s diamond-shaped head had rolled off to the side, its muscles began to relax enough for me to wiggle free. I watched him retract the amethyst blades back into the metal handle-grips from his motorcycle—which I now knew were cleverly disguised hilts—and then a badly poisoned Tanner Grey began to collapse. I sprang to my feet and grabbed the injured Talisman to drag him outside.
Tanner’s eyes were closing. “Tanner!” I yelled hysterically. “Can you hear me? Can you get rid of the poison?”
Tanner rolled over. “No,” he mumbled, struggling to speak. “The venom is very potent. Some of the snakes that bit me weren’t entirely earthly creatures . . . more supernatural.” His frail voice called out, “Look for his sardonyx. It’s black with white markings on it. It’ll tell me what kind of magic I’m up against. Just HURRY!”
I raced back inside the shack. I came to an almost tripping halt at the sight of Mr. Estell’s freshly transformed severed head that was now lying cockeyed against the metal washtub. I reluctantly inspected it for a stone necklace, but there was nothing. Hell — What was there to keep it on him anymore? I went to the trap door and looked down into the basement. The other portion of his body was lying at the bottom of the steps. Ugh! I rolled my eyes and ran down the stairs. I cringed as I felt around the headless, naked body for the stone. Nothing! Then I checked his hands, and just as Tanner had described, a ring that held a black stone with faint hatches of white was resting on one of his fingers. I tugged on it several times, but it wouldn’t budge. Since I was in a hurry (and I knew Mr. Estell couldn’t object), I just broke his finger, and the stone ring slid right off. I raced up the stairs and back outside to Tanner. He wasn’t very lucid and seemed to be slipping into an unconscious state.
I grabbed his shoulders and gave him several shakes. “I’ve got it!” I announced.
“How many white marks are on the stone? The fewer, the better.” I looked at the stone and counted. Tanner continued, “One? Two?” he asked groggily.
I hesitated. “Um . . . Five.” I could tell by Tanner’s preceding grunt that I hadn’t delivered the best of news.
He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest, directly over one of his wounds. “What the hell . . . We’re going to try this anyway.” Tanner took a deep breath and instructed, “You have to help me increase my powers . . . so I can keep the poison at bay . . . just long enough to get to Bea’s house. You need to concentrate . . . and lend me some of . . . yours.” His words were sounding more distorted with every passing second. He continued to mutter, “I know you don’t possess all the diamond’s strength yet . . . but this is our only option. Just concentrate . . . The diamond will know what to do.”
Though I was overwrought with fear, I took a deep breath to ease my worry, so I could attempt to concentrate. After all, this was the second man in less than a week to lie dying in my arms. With both my hands placed over the wounds on Tanner’s chest, I closed my eyes and focused on the diamond’s power, as well as his injuries. Soon a bright white light began forming under my hands that felt warm and unmistakably soothing. I looked over at Tanner’s face. He was still in a grave amount of pain and barely responsive.
The Amethyst Talisman was growing too weak to even raise his head. “Are you . . . concentrating?” he muttered.
“Yes!” I insisted in a panic. “Is it doing ANYTHING?”
Tanner let out a moan. “No. I think there’s too much poison . . .” His voice trailed off as his head rolled over to the side.
I shook him violently. “Tanner! Tell me what to do! WAKE UP!” I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I kept trying to revive him. I concentrated harder and tried lending him my energy again. I looked over at his pale, handsome face. Nothing! I had no idea what to do. He just couldn’t die! Not here! Not now! I was clueless as to how I could help him and found myself desperately racking my brain for some kind of supernatural CPR.
As the first tear streaked down my cheek, something grabbed hold of my hand. Startled, I whipped around to see Gallia, the little pigtailed girl from the church. She took one of my hands and placed it back on Tanner’s chest, directly over his wounds, and held my other one in hers. Then she laid her left hand on his chest, right beside mine. As I looked at our hands lying there together, I was drawn to her bracelet. I recognized the color and pattern of some of the stones dangling from it. They looked like Beatrix’s greenish-gray ring — her serpentine ring. Gallia’s eyes turned green and began sparkling passionately as she focused on Tanner. She gave my hand a tight squeeze. Apparently she wanted me to try again. I kept my eyes open this time and focused solely on the diamond’s power. The light that was now radiating under our hands was nothing like before. The green and white rays streaming from his chest started melding toge
ther magically. The blended light was shining as brilliant as the summer sun and felt just as sizzling.
Slowly but surely, Tanner’s limp body started to shift around. Whatever Gallia was doing, it appeared to be working. An instant rush of relief overcame me as he began to rouse. My heart pounded even harder when his eyes opened and locked on mine. Tanner lifted his hand to my cheek and rubbed the curve of my jaw tenderly. He soon realized we weren’t alone and shifted his gaze to the little girl sitting beside me, who happened to be grinning from ear to ear.
“How are you feeling now . . . Tanner Grey?” Gallia asked.
Tanner smiled straight back at her like he’d run into a long-lost friend. Then his head collapsed onto the ground as he let out a laugh.
“I’ll be damned,” the Amethyst Talisman grunted.
Gallia giggled, “Not yet . . . Thanks to me and your friend, Shiloh.”
Tanner propped himself up to glance back and forth between the two of us. “Imagine that. Me, on the cusp of death and then brought back to life by none other than . . . two little girls,” he cracked and started to laugh uncontrollably.
I wasn’t sure if he was happy to be alive or if it was his wisecrack that he’d found so amusing, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Not for a second.
I turned to Gallia. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, needing some reassurance. “Is all the poison gone?”
“Oh, yes,” Gallia confirmed. “Of course, he’ll be weak . . . and a little intoxicated until he regains all of his strength.”
“So basically . . . he’s just drunk?” I inquired.
Gallia smiled and nodded.
“Good,” I replied, absolutely relieved.
Though I was thankful for her help and overjoyed knowing Tanner was going to be okay, I just couldn’t pass up this perfect opportunity. My brow arched as I thought of the countless number of times he had played a little too rough & dirty, as well as the scare he’d just given me. Swiftly, I swung my right fist around and popped him smack across the jaw. Needless to say, his medley of chuckles halted immediately.
Gallia looked at me and winked. “Nice one,” she confirmed.
“Thanks,” I replied with a mischievous grin.
Chapter 19
