by Tim Meyer
It was twenty to midnight and I grew nervous. I rummaged around my wallet and found Aurelia's number. I called to ask her for directions, something I probably should have done in the first place. The phone rang twice. Three times. No answer. Went to voicemail. Shit, I thought, what the hell am I supposed to do now? I waited five more minutes, hoping Olberstad's BMW would cruise by and save me.
But he didn't.
It was nearing crunch time, and I had to make a decision.
I decided to wing it, drive aimlessly down the dark road I thought the path was on, and with some luck, find it. I turned my brights on and pulled onto the highway.
I drove for five minutes, and the boring scenery to my right and left seemed vaguely familiar. Although, trees were trees, and endless stretches of them looked the same, didn't they? I kept driving, keeping in mind that the exit was to the right somewhere. I slowed down at every little path I thought I could get my car down. Unfortunately, every single one I saw was only big enough for a bicycle. It was seven minutes to midnight and the fear that I was going to miss this thing was building. It wasn't because I'd lose out on another opportunity to snap an indecent photo of my Aunt the Adulteress and her new boy toy. It was because I felt I'd be letting Aurelia down. I know we had only met a few times, but still. We hit it off pretty well, and I wanted to be there for her. I had to be there for her. It was important to her, no matter how ridiculous it appeared to be, or if I thought the whole thing was bullshit; it was important to her and that's all that mattered.
I was determined to find it.
Luckily, a glimmer of hope appeared in the near distance. It looked exactly like the path Olberstad had turned down just one week ago. I took the turn and crossed my fingers that this was the right path, that I wouldn't end up in a ditch or worse—maybe a camp full of hungry cannibals. After my experience in the woods a week ago, it wouldn't shock me. The woods are a scary place; you never know what's hiding deep within.
It was three minutes to midnight when I could make out Boone's house through the branches and shrubbery. The lights were on, but not as many as there were a week ago. I accelerated and headed for the dirt lot as fast as I could, without wrapping my car around an oak tree. I made it to the parking lot with two minutes to spare. The ceremony would commence momentarily, and I didn't want to miss a second of it. I parked my car in the closest spot and jumped out, shutting the door without wasting a single millisecond on locking it. There wasn't anything in there worthy enough to steal anyway. I trotted toward the door, running up the small flight of stairs two steps at a time. I reached for the handle and realized there was none.
I almost forgot. I rapped my knuckles on the door three times, hard so it would be heard.
It took a minute for the unhappy doorman to greet me.
“Password,” he spoke, sounding irritated.
“The Veil,” I muttered.
I saw the man shake his head through the slot in the door. I couldn't see his face, but I knew the son of a bitch was smiling. His eyes narrowed. “That was last week's password. Sorry, pal.”
I felt my face flush.
2
“Look,” I said, feeling the anger rise inside me. “I was here last week. You remember me, right?” The man behind the door said nothing. “All I want to do is watch the ceremony. This is Aurelia's night.” I know it sounded like I was begging. The door man was enjoying it, but I didn't care. I had come to see Aurelia, and I wouldn't take no for an answer.
“You're a little late,” he said. His tone was cold. “We're just getting started.”
“Then I suggest you let me in so I don't miss anything.”
“Oh really?” He chuckled heartily. “You suggest that I let you in? Who the hell do you think you are?” I felt like telling him that I was Ritchie Naughton, and I didn't appreciate his fucking attitude. But I thought that would only make matters worse. Instead, I tried a more cordial approach.
“I'm sorry. I apologize. But seriously. Just let me in, man. I'm not here looking for any problems. I just want to see the ceremony. I don't have a password. I guess I wasn't given it last week.” He stared at me. For a second I thought he was going to close the small viewing window, and disappear, keeping me locked out and in the cold. “Please,” I said one more time, as apologetic as possible.
Then he shut the window.
Motherfu—
I heard the door unlock from the inside and then it opened, slightly, inviting me in. I opened the door and stepped into the lobby. The door man was there, grumpy as usual. He seemed unhappy with his decision. “I appreciate it, man.”
“I don't see what he sees in you,” he muttered.
“Who?”
“Who the fuck do you think?”
I shrugged my shoulders and assumed he meant Carter Boone, although I don't know what the man could “see in me” considering our very brief conversation and how it ended. I nodded and thanked the door man again. He told me to hurry into the church and grab a seat quickly, the ceremony was about to commence.
“And the password changes with the new moon. New moon, new password.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” I said.
I walked down the corridor and entered the church, which had become blanketed with darkness.
3
This time around, I decided to grab a better seat. Closer. I would have been better off if I had sat in the back, like the previous Saturday night. But, that was my choice. And like all choices, I had to stick with it.
I found a cozy spot directly behind Aunt Danica and Marty Olberstad, a few pews from the altar. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I couldn't quite make out their whispers. People began hushing the clusters of chatter, and within seconds the church grew silent. A figure on the altar lit the candles. Through the shadows I saw Carter Boone—garbed in unholy attire—decorating the table in front of him. At first, he set down a wreath. He poured wine (or what I hoped was wine) into the large golden chalice before him. After he finished, he raised his arms in the air, asking the congregation to pray along with him. He started them off with uttering something in Latin, which everyone else probably understood except me. I pretended to know the words as he spoke. I opened my mouth, faking the recitation, while the rest of the audiences sung along with clarity. It was too dark to tell I wasn't really saying anything, and luckily no one seemed to care enough to notice.
After Carter and the rest of the Order of the Black Book finished their opening chant, the church became uncomfortably quiet. Boone took a minute to collect his thoughts. Then, slowly, he reached across the table and grabbed the black book, the Devil's bible, and held it against his chest. “Ladies and gentlemen, Children of the Black Book,” he welcomed. “We have gathered here tonight to see one of our sisters become one of our own. She has proven herself to be a loyal, competent servant of our Lord.”
Beneath her breath, Aunt Danica scoffed.
Boone took several minutes to lecture the audience on how worthy Aurelia was to receive the sacrament, to become initiated. Without warning, someone rapped their knuckles on the door leading to the church. The sound echoed throughout the room.
“Who seeks entry?” Boone asked the intruder.
“One who repents her past heresies, and desires acceptance into the grace of our Lord—Satan,” a woman's voice came from outside the door. It was Aurelia, playing out her part in this scripted activity.
“Then you may enter, at your own risk. Prepare to devote yourself to the one true God, our Lord Satan. Prepare to prove your gratitude.”
The door swung open. The crowd turned toward her. Surrounded in an orange glow from the candle she carried, Aurelia entered. She was wearing a white dress, eerily similar to the white dress the woman in my photograph wore. This one, however, did not have a blood stain near the crotch. Aurelia made her way down the red carpet, the eyes of the witnesses following her as she went. I caught a glimpse of my Aunt Danica looking on. She seemed unpleased. Her mouth was quivering ev
er-so slightly, and I could tell she was grinding her teeth.
A few seconds later, Aurelia stood before Boone and the black altar.
“The opportunity to forgive your past and absolve you of all your impurities has come to pass, Aurelia, most sacred servant of the Fallen One,” Boone announced. “Will you accept?”
“Yes,” Aurelia responded.
“Then come forth, and claim your seat next to our Lord Satan.”
Aurelia walked up the black altar's steps. She stood before Boone, who nodded, implying she face the congregation. She complied. Boone raised the Black Book above her head, and began to speak. “First you must prove yourself. Take this crucifix and break it. Scatter its pieces among the floor, where it belongs.”
Aurelia presented a crucifix to the gathered. She held it above her head, and snapped it in half. She threw the pieces to the floor, just as Boone commanded.
“Good,” he added. “Now, raise your right hand. Do you, Aurelia, deny Christ the deceiver and solemnly swear to abjure the Christian faith and all of its lies?”
“I swear,” Aurelia answered.
A strange smell tickled my nose, but I thought nothing of it.
“Do you swear to accept the most beautiful Archangel, Lucifer the bold and brave, Prince over our world, to possess a human body and reclaim His throne as ruler of our world?”
“I swear.”
“Do you...” Whatever it was, Carter Boone smelled it too. He paused, glancing around the room. “Do you swear... to give your mind, body, and soul to our Master Satan, and serve him in this life and hereafter?”
“I... swear,” Aurelia replied, struggling with the words, as if she was unsure whether to utter them.
The smell intensified. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was. If it makes sense (and it totally doesn't), the odor resembled the old man in my dream, reminding me of him. The man in my pictures. It was a foul stink, one I wished not to smell again. I thought about the book Aurelia suggested I read. In it, the author claimed that when demons or devils are near, a sulphuric odor is usually present. I couldn't exactly remember what sulfur smelled like (since I probably haven't smelled it since a chemistry class I was forced to take during college), but I thought the church vaguely smelled like that. Some of the other members of the Order were becoming restless. The stench became more unmistakable as the minutes passed.
Demons. I chuckled just thinking about the idea, that an actual demon had come to join the ceremony. Demons were fairy-tale creatures. They only existed in books and the movies. Not in real life. The notion was downright laughable.
Any more laughable than a camera that takes pictures of other worlds? Old men who only exist in your dreams? a voice asked.
Shut up you, I responded.
Carter Boone tried to keep the ceremony moving. “Good. To finish the pact, you will need to remove your dress.” Oh, no, I thought. Here we go. “You will need to smear the goat-headed god with a small sample of your blood. Here... take... this... knife.”
Boone looked around the room. The smell was overwhelming now, drowning out my other four senses. Some people in the audience coughed. I looked toward the exit and noticed the room had become significantly hazy. A few people around me were whispering, asking each other if they thought the ceremony should stop until they knew what was going on, or if they should leave all together. I looked at Aurelia's face. She acted calm, but I could tell she was nervous. I saw her lips quiver and her shoulders shake. Once more I glanced at the exit. The haze grew thicker. Just when I had figured out what was going on and started to get up from my seat, the door man bustled into the room. A cloud of smoke followed him.
“Everyone out!” he shouted. “There's a fire! Fire in the rectory! Get out now!”
4
No one saw the flames and no one needed to. The door man's forceful entry sent a wave of panic over the members of the Order like a tsunami washing over shore villages. The two women behind me—looking like actual witches themselves, straight from the Grimm fairy tales—were the first to escape. They—like me—had sensed something dreadful coming. They were out of the church and heading toward the door that required a secret password to trespass before most of the others were on their feet. Aunt Danica rose to her feet, not looking as upset as some of the others. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was pleased about the intrusion. Marty Olberstad threw his sporty jacket around her shoulders, and followed her to the end of the pew. The two of them hustled toward the exit, but not breaking out into a full sprint, like some of the others had.
I glanced back, toward the altar. Aurelia was still standing there, her eyes beginning to water. This cannot be happening, her face said. She closed her eyes, as everything she worked for in the past few months slowly burned away. If she kept standing there, she too would burn away. Behind her, Carter Boone gathered a few items from the ceremony, stuffing various objects inside his long black robe. The last thing he grabbed was the thin black book, and tucked it underneath his arm. He didn't say a word to Aurelia as he trotted down the steps of the altar, heading toward the door. The door man, the miserable long-haired prick, waved the unholy priest on. “Come, Father,” the door man said. The door man followed not waiting for Aurelia or myself to exit before disappearing after him.
I called out Aurelia's name. She didn't answer. Her eyes remained closed, as if they had been sewn shut. I sprinted down the pew and into the main aisle where the red carpet kindly led the way to the altar. I sprinted toward her. As I reached the steps, Aurelia's eyes flashed open. I'm not sure, but I swore I heard her whisper something, something that may not have been meant for me to hear. “Welcome... to the House of Mirrors...” I thought I heard her say. As soon as the words left her lips, she spread her arms apart, as if they were the wings and she planned to take flight. Her eyes fluttered and closed again. Then she fell forward, as if she were jumping off a bridge, hoping to break her neck on the rocks below.
I caught her before her body hit the floor. Rolling her onto her back, I called out her name, loud enough for anyone in the next room to hear. But there was no one around. Everyone had evacuated. The smoke had become increasingly visible. I began to cough as the thick haze surrounded us. I tapped Aurelia twice on the cheek to wake her up. Nothing. She remained lifeless. If my name were Buster Gritton, I would have punched her in the chest. However, I couldn't bring myself to punch a woman, no matter how desperate the circumstance. Instead, I scooped her off of the floor. I jogged as quickly as I could toward the bi-fold doors. Aurelia did not weigh much, maybe a little over one-hundred pounds, maybe a little more.
Feeling confident we were going to make it, I swung open the bi-fold doors as if I intended to rip them off the hinges. I felt my heart plummet as I took in the view of the long corridor. Smoke nearly blocked my vision of the exit. Looking through the clouds before me, I could barely see the lobby. It was beginning to become engulfed in fire. Orange flames flickered and danced, like an audience of waving hands at a rock concert. I felt my body tire. My knees and legs throbbed, and the strength was beginning to drain from them. I pushed myself. Further. Just a little further, I told myself. I felt the adrenaline pump through my body, giving me the endurance to continue. I looked at Aurelia in my arms, eyes closed and trapped in a state of unconsciousness. There wasn't any time to check her pulse or see if she was still breathing. I moved forward, but putting one foot in front of the other quickly became a struggle.
And then, without any warning, I started coughing uncontrollably. Breathing suddenly became unmanageable. I tried to keep going, but I lost the feeling in both legs and stumbled forward, almost dropping Aurelia's lifeless body on the floor in front of me. I faltered to the side and drove my right shoulder into the drywall. I used the wall to prop myself up. My kneecaps were rubbery balls that could no longer support the rest of my body weight. I went down. Aurelia's body left my arms and hit the ground, hard. I tried to regain my balance, but it was useless. The world around me appeared
fuzzy, like an old, grainy photograph. The smoke consumed me. I couldn't stop coughing. I felt my lungs close. I glanced over at Aurelia and was thankful that she would die in her sleep, if she hadn't already.
I made one final attempt to escape, but my body was numb and the motivation to live was nonexistent. I was at the point where I would welcome death, as long as it meant I could breath again and no longer feel numb. I crawled toward the door, with whatever little power I had left in my arms. My feeble attempt failed, and I looked ahead to the lobby where the fire raged. Giant pillars of flames ate away at the walls and ceilings.
Two creatures appeared in the dim light. Demons from Hell, I thought, coming to claim our souls and drag us to the infernal pit. They had big black eyes that reminded me of an insect's, bulbous compared to the rest of its head. They were carrying weapons, which I assumed were in case our souls were determined to stay behind. They would get no objection from me. I welcomed the afterlife, as I lay on the floor choking on the smoke that filled my lungs.
The demons marched forward as the world around me faded to black, hissing and snarling as their shadows grew closer.
5
I awoke and expected to be surrounded by fire and flames from the bottomless pit known as Hell. I felt a cool sensation on the back of my neck from the dirt on Carter Boone's front lawn. Kneeling over me were two people. They were dressed like demons, the very same ones who had come to me in—what I thought to be—my final moment of life. The demons turned out to be members of the Red River North Fire Department. They looked at me for a moment with grave concern, until I started coughing. One of them said, “Welcome back to life.” I had heard those words too many times for someone not even in their thirties.
I sat up and scanned the scenery. That moment was surreal, like one of my crazy nightmares come to life. I was expecting the firefighters to turn into old men with sickly green skin and claws for hands. Instead they helped me to my feet, told me I was going to be fine, and then walked to the next situation that required their attention. And there were several of them.