The Second Seal

by Sean Deville

  “I think you do,” the voice agreed. “Deep down, in the part of you that you try and ignore, I think you do know what I am.” The group of refugees turned, those in front now moving towards Vicky. Although they walked, their feet didn’t appear to be hitting the ground. This allowed them to float across the land, sparks of flame occasionally erupting within their ranks. They had suffered so much and would continue to until their bodies finally failed from the injuries inflicted.

  “What have you done to them?” Vicky implored.

  “Why would you blame me?” The voice sounded offended by the accusation. “I did not cause this. I am a pawn as you are. But only I can save you. Only I can save your beloved Emily.” That was when Vicky saw her, the small child being dragged by a man who was clearly too brutal to be in care of such a young and precious girl.

  “No. That’s not her.” Vicky said the words, but she knew they weren’t true. Even with the traumatised flesh and the red weeping wounds, there was no denying her own daughter. Vicky made to run to her, but she found her feet held fast. Looking down, hands had erupted from the ruined land to hold her legs rigid.

  “You will stand and you will watch. You will watch the plight of your daughter, a plight that could have been prevented.” The burly man dragging Emily suddenly stopped and pulled on her daughter’s hand. Emily was thrown to the ground, the dirt so hot to touch it caused Emily’s skin to sizzle.

  “Why? Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you are mine, Vicky. You will give yourself to me, or I will make you watch what is about to happen a thousand times.” Vicky tried to close her eyes, but invisible fingers forced open her eyelids. The touch was hot, the eyelids fusing open. “How long do you think your sanity can hold out against me?” The voice chuckled then.

  “I will never let you have me.” As she was forced to watch, the man began kicking the fallen figure of her daughter. Vicky felt every blow as if they rained down on her own skin.

  “But it’s the only way to save her. Would you not be willing to sacrifice everything to give her a chance?” That nearly broke her. If this future was true, then how could Vicky stand by and let it happen? Something in her mind wavered, and she almost said the words.

  “Vicky.”

  She recognised the person calling her name. It sounded far away, but it was enough of a distraction to pull her out of the despair she was hurtling towards.

  “Do not leave,” her tormentor demanded. But it was too late, the spell had been broken.

  “Vicky, wake up.”

  Vicky opened her eyes. The devastated landscape was gone, replaced by the bedroom she had slept in as a child. Her father stood over her, the bedroom light on to cancel out the night, a concerned look on his face. Her father had woken her, and just in time. She had been so close to giving herself. It had only been a dream, but in that moment of confusion when sleep is ripped apart by waking consciousness, Vicky knew it had been so much more.

  She had almost said yes. As crazy as it sounded, she had nearly let something in.

  “Dad, where’s Emily?”

  “Asleep in the other room.”

  “Can you check on her for me?” Vicky tried to hide the alarm that was growing inside her, but she didn’t do a good job of it.

  “Sure,” her father said, and he left the room. In her nostrils, Vicky thought she could still detect the faintest leftover of the scorched earth she had witnessed. It was only a moment before her father came back smiling. In his hand he clutched a piece of paper.

  “Sleeping soundly,” he said. Her father sat down on the bed next to her. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “Bad dreams.”

  “No, it’s more than that.” He looked at her with searching eyes. “You’re worried about something and you need to tell me what it is.”

  “I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

  “I’ll believe you.” And in those words, she knew he would.

  “The last few nights I’ve been having nightmares, but it’s more than that. And then last night, it felt like there was a presence in the room. Dad, do you…do you believe in demons?” She remembered the words Damien had said to her, words that she had rejected. Only now she wasn’t sure.

  A demon is trying to claim you, Vicky Ralph, and a powerful one. I can see the residue of its presence on you.

  “As it happens, yes I do.” Slowly he placed the paper on the bed beside them. It was a drawing, done by Emily. It showed a figure with a blackness all around it. “Emily did that before going to sleep. It’s what she’s been seeing.”

  I can see the residue of its presence on you.

  “Dad, I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know dear, but maybe I have a few ideas.” James was going to break one of his cardinal rules. Vicky had rejected religion at an early age, and James had accepted her choice. “What would you say to having a word with a priest?”

  36.

  Watford, UK

  Veronica had tired of her about four hours ago, but Lilith wasn’t being allowed any rest. The headphones over her ears blared the same repetitive song over and over. Not enough to do lasting damage to her hearing, but enough to stop any chance of sleep. The music was supposed to drive her towards desperation, but instead, Lilith used the music as a mantra, deliberately relishing each and every word. It wasn’t a whole song, just the worst parts of one.

  Veronica appeared to be working alone on this which Lilith considered to be a mistake. They should have used two torturers, if not three. Each would have had their own approach to breaking Lilith, and each would have come at her from a different perspective. As unpleasant as the music was, this was a mild inconvenience compared to what was coming.

  Soon a competition would form as to who would break first. Veronica seemed arrogantly confident she could make Lilith spill her secrets, but there was a long way before that would happen. There wasn’t anything dished out so far that Lilith hadn’t been able to withstand. This was Britain, of course, and there were still rules in this secret place. It wasn’t some backwater hell hole where the rule of law was maintained by rape and slaughter. It would be interesting to see how far Veronica would be allowed to go. If it could get away with it, the demon who possessed the Home Secretary would allow anything so long as Lilith was kept alive, but there were other people here who would act as a restraining influence.

  As long as she was here, in this room, Lilith suspected she would have a chance of holding out. If they ever decided to move her and put her on a plane, then she knew any chance of coming out the other side would be over. Lilith didn’t think that would happen though, because she detected an urgency in the situation.

  If she was moved, or if she felt her will failing, then she would be forced to take matters into her own hands. It was tempting to end it all before the real pain started. A part of her, the bit that represented the masochistic side which had been growing over the years, wanted to hang around and see how far Veronica would take this.

  Blindfolded as she was, Lilith didn’t see the door open. It was only when the music stopped that she suspected the fun was about to begin afresh. Fingers gripped the blindfold and pulled it free, the headphones also removed. Three people stood in the room, Veronica and two men wearing balaclavas. Oh, so maybe she did have some helpers. There was also a new piece of equipment in the room, a triangular device with one end of the triangle pointing upward, mounted on a saw-horse-like support.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Veronica asked.

  “Oh, immensely.”

  “Good. I’d like to introduce you to my two friends here.” The men were well built, tall. It was clear they could handle themselves. “I’m thinking of making you their plaything.”

  “Well, that will give me something to look forward to.”

  “Oh, it won’t be yet. That will come later. But both of them have a thing about ripping a woman like you open.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve
got space in my diary.”

  Veronica smiled. “You know, I don’t say this very often, but I like you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t swing that way.”

  “You see, that’s what I mean. You really don’t give a damn, do you?” Veronica sounded genuinely impressed.

  “I won’t lie. I’d rather not be here.”

  “I’ve done this to a lot of people. Some of them broke instantly, which is always a disappointment but fantastic to those paying for my services.”

  “I bet your mother’s proud.” Goad them early, try and get under their skin when you could. If things got too bad, then sometimes the torturer could be driven to such frustration and anger that they would make a mistake. Such mistakes often resulted in the death of the prisoner. Lilith had a suspicion this wouldn’t work here, but it didn’t hurt to try. Veronica was too much of a professional. She was building up to the main event, testing her victim, pushing limits so they could be stretched. Building the body up helped to cushion the blow when the bad shit arrived. That tended to make it more effective.

  “You are a woman who understands pain. You live with it daily, I can tell. That means you think you can control it. I’m suspecting that, deep in your psychology, you have some religious belief that tells you a better place awaits.”

  “Are you a mentalist or a torturer?”

  “A bit of both actually,” Veronica admitted. “Would you like to know what we next have in store for you?”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “These men are going to release you. Don’t even think of trying any foolishness. Your arms and legs have been locked in the same position for hours. They will be stiff and useless. They are going to tie you onto this devious device here. It will be humiliating and extremely uncomfortable because your own weight will be your undoing.”

  “Isn’t that a bit medieval?”

  “Oh totally. Did you know it was originally designed for women? Men were such bastards back then.”

  “Do your worst,” Lilith said. She knew what the device could do, had read about it, even experienced something similar in her training days. The latter had only been for a limited period though. Prolonged torture with this device could cause permanent injury.

  “Honey, you can’t imagine my worst. So why don’t you save yourself this?”

  “Won’t this be boring for you?” The device started as being uncomfortable, but gradually became maddening over time. The longer the victim was upon it, the worse it would become, fire digging into the pelvic floor.

  “Well once you’re on it I’m going back to bed. You will stay on it until I wake up and I’m looking at getting a good eight hours’ sleep.”

  “As I said,” Lilith answered, “do your worst.”

  “Thank you,” Veronica said. “I am looking forward to breaking you. It’s so long since I’ve been given a proper challenge.”

  37.

  Inquisitor training camp, 11 years ago

  “If we catch you, you will wish you had never been born.” Those were the words the priest had said after dropping her off the back of the truck. The road they were on was dirt, the forest surrounding them all-consuming.

  Those were the first words the priest had ever spoken to her. She believed every word. She was coming into womanhood now, and if it had been anyone but the priests chasing her, she might have feared for her sexual innocence. But she had no fear of that with these men. They would do brutal things to her if they caught her, but they wouldn’t take her virtue.

  Throughout the present month, members of her class had, one by one, been taken up into the surrounding forest. There they would be chased by four of the priests who would hunt them down through the woods. All they had to do was evade capture for twelve hours. It seemed easy enough, except it was late autumn, and she was naked. The priests were all fitted out in the most advanced survival gear available.

  Lilith also only had a thirty-minute head start. Hardly a fair contest.

  She had another disadvantage. She wasn’t familiar with the area. Despite the training camp only being a fifteen-minute drive from this location, she had never been out here, never before explored the forest. She’d been given instruction in wilderness evasion, and that was what she was here to now test. The men who would follow knew these woods, had been out here countless times. Even though she was fast, her speed would be worth little here.

  Lilith would need to use her mind. So far, only Lucien had survived out in the woods the full twelve hours. There was the rivalry again, the one that went unspoken.

  Lilith took off at a steady pace, running down the asphalt path until the men were out of her sight. In her mind she counted down the seconds. They had timed this exercise well, as they always did. The sun was only just rising, so there would be no night time to aid her evasion. They had also deliberately not given Lilith any kind of timepiece. Part of the purpose of this pursuit was to learn what it felt like to be relentlessly chased without any real idea of when the exercise was over. In the deep of the forest, she wouldn’t be able to rely on the sun, for the sky was clouded.

  Trying to open up an unassailable head start would be a fool’s ploy. They wore boots, she had bare feet. They were well fed. She hadn’t been allowed to eat or drink at all yesterday or upon waking, an indication that this was her turn in the wilderness. They would have water and warm clothing. Lilith would have only her tuition which so far had gone untested. This was an assessment of cunning more than anything.

  Out of sight of the men, she walked into the forest to her right, making sure to leave as much evidence of her progress as possible. Her mind told her three minutes had already elapsed, an ever-shrinking window to try and protect herself. She knew that the level of punishment would directly correlate to the time she could evade them.

  If they caught her quickly, within the first hour, Lilith would be spending days in the infirmary. At least one broken bone would be the result of such inadequacy. Inquisitors in training had been failed for less.

  About twenty metres in, she back tracked, trying her best not to leave any evidence of her deceit. Back onto the path, and with twenty-three minutes’ left. The surrounding ground was firm, no rain for several days, meaning she would be unlikely to leave a significant trail, although off the path, she had deliberately dug her heel in on occasion to give the men something obvious to chase. Whether they would be fooled was yet to be discovered. She knew the priests were excellent trackers.

  A minute further along the path, she did her feint again. All the time she was listening, her ears searching for what she knew would be out here. Returning once again to the path in the same manner, Lilith reversed and headed back up the path the way she had come. This time she went slowly, using her time to place each foot carefully so that it wouldn’t be noticed in any accumulated debris. Half way between her two attempts at falsehood, she found what she had already spotted. To her right there was a step in the ground, the earth sharply rising to form a ledge at the level of her still-shaping breasts. This would be useless except for the tree that jutted out defiantly, its trunk free of small branches that could be damaged by her. If she was careful, she could climb the tree up onto the rise, and be away into the forest.

  This was her one and only chance. With so many directions for students to have headed in the past, Lilith wondered if she was the first to discover the tree. If she was, she might have a chance. If not, her ploy would be soon discovered. It wasn’t known to her that the priests chose a different location for every student.

  Lilith knew she would have to jump and grip the trunk tightly. Any mistake and the last fifteen minutes would be for nothing. Holding her breath, she steadied herself and leapt. Her arms caught the tree which was leaning towards her slightly, her legs wrapping around it. She felt something scratch the inside of her thigh, the bark coarse to her skin. If she left blood behind, the priests would find it.

  Thank the Lord they didn’t have dogs with them. There would be no evading them in
that case. At least this way she had a chance. Lucien had proven that.

  Shimmying up the tree she shifted her position, the inside of her feet working hard to propel her upwards. Everyday Father had made them climb ropes and tall poles to build strength and endurance. That also came in useful for this.

  A thick branch jutted out into the forest, and she pulled herself onto that, monkeying under it until she was able to drop down onto the ground. Although her skin had multiple scratches, a quick check revealed that it hadn’t been breached. No blood, that was good.

  The urge to run was strong, but she resisted. Searching the ground, she looked for rocks or large stones, things that would not leave a significant trail. She also knew not to go in a straight line. The canopy above was thick, the sky barely visible, so that worked both for and against her.

  For, because it would make the search for her presence more difficult.

  Against, because she would be less able to spot any hazards that might damage her already sore feet. An average person dragged off the street and thrown into this would already be limping and bleeding from the trauma to soft soles caused by a lifetime of wearing shoes. In the camp, with its wire, its guards and its harsh regime, most of her time was spent bare footed. That had given her some protection.

  Everything Father and the priests put her through had been for a reason. It was as if they were trying to prepare her for every eventuality.

  She walked carefully, twenty-three minutes now gone. The gap between her and her pending followers was negligible, but she wormed her way into the forest. The danger now was to go too fast, to miss a step. And as she had to zig zag, the forest would soon become disorientating, meaning if she wasn’t careful, she could backtrack and end up heading straight towards the people she needed to avoid.

  That was when the idea came to her, which was brilliant in its simplicity. Lucien had been forbidden to tell them how he had managed to escape capture, so she had to rely on her own wits.