Canticum Tenebris (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 2)

by John Triptych

  The creature shrieked in pain as it was horribly burned while the curtains around it began to catch fire as well. The Wendigo backed out of the window and quickly disappeared away from sight. Paul hurriedly stamped out the flaming curtains. Then he twisted a wire hanger to reinforce the latch on the window before moving a large antique dresser as an additional barricade behind it.

  “Do this to all the other windows as well,” Paul said calmly to them. Kim stopped protesting as she dutifully obeyed, while he noticed that Troy’s eyes had lit up as if he was some sort of hero to the boy. Maybe he was finally coming out of his shell, Paul thought.

  As he propped up a shower rod on the folding door to the attic to keep it from opening downwards, Paul heard a loud, grating noise coming from downstairs. At that moment, the two kids joined him in the corridor.

  It was then that he heard Clint’s voice coming from the ground floor. “No more, Donna! Please!”

  Paul ran down the stairs as the two kids followed. As he reached the foot of the stairs, he noticed Clint had somehow freed himself and had moved the barricade away from the front door. Before Paul could do anything, his neighbor unlocked the door and opened it.

  The two children screamed as the Wendigo entered the house. Paul pushed them back up the stairs before turning to head into the smoke-filled kitchen.

  As the creature that had once been his wife towered over him, Clint knelt down in front of it. He had a blank look on his bruised face. “I’m sorry, Donna,” he said softly. “It’s over now. Please, just take me and let’s finish this.”

  Paul moved towards the blazing stovetops. The olive oil had reached its burning point and it had filled the entire kitchen with smoke. He instantly took the hand towels sitting on the countertop and wrapped it around his hands before grabbing the saucepot handles.

  The creature snarled and quickly drove its snout into Clint’s neck. Its razor sharp fangs began to chew through his jugular veins and windpipe. As he choked on his own blood, Clint tried to smile and think of the good times he had with her before he died. Just as the Wendigo gorged on her husband, Paul ran into the living room holding two pots of boiling oil.

  As Paul swung his arms back to throw the oil, the creature looked at him. The Wendigo’s mouth was covered in blood and entrails while its eyes sparkled and shimmered. For a brief moment, he saw that the creature had somehow transformed into the loving wife Clint was forever faithful to. Time seemed to stand still as Paul hesitated. The Wendigo seemed to look differently now as it seemed to have shrunk in size and its features became more human. He could see that the bloodshot eyes were no more and they now resembled Donna’s deep brown pupils. It was as if Clint’s wife had somehow wrestled control of her body from the beast that was inside of her.

  But the moment soon passed and Paul could see that the creature standing in front of him had begun to transform back into a malevolent, supernatural entity once more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two kids coming down the stairs and that was when the thoughts of their dead parents filled him with a sense of reality once more. With all his remaining strength, Paul threw the contents of both saucepans at the Wendigo.

  The creature roared with pain as the smoldering oil covered most of its body. Its once pale skin glistened and began to blister as the oil burned through it. The Wendigo shrieked as it backed away into the living room. Paul followed as he dropped the pans and picked up the poker that was on the floor. As he swung the metal rod at the creature, it grabbed the side of the poker and tore it away from him. As Paul backed away, the creature tried to swing a claw at him but its eyes were still burning from the oil and it could hardly see so it missed.

  As he tried to put some distance between them, Paul kept moving to make sure that the fireplace was beside him as he frantically looked around for another weapon. Just as the creature got close to the fireplace, Kim ran into the living room carrying a small white paper sack. As Paul tried to warn her away, she tore open the top of the pack and sprayed the Wendigo with a cloud of white powder. Paul realized it was white flour she had taken from the pantry. What happened next was totally unexpected. Part of the airborne white mist had touched the burning fireplace and it instantly engulfed the creature in flames as the dusty flour had ignited like gunpowder. Within seconds, the creature was screeching in terror as the fire had spread over its entire body, making it thrash around helplessly.

  Paul grabbed the two kids by the arm as all three of them ran out of the house. Within minutes, the entire living room was on fire. Paul had taken the car keys by the front door mantelpiece as he ran out and they were now inside of the Volvo as Paul began to activate the ignition.

  When the car finally started up a few seconds later, Paul shifted to reverse as he backed the car out from the front of the burning house. As the tires screeched, Paul accelerated as he drove the Volvo to the end of the block and then towards the highway on Boylston Street.

  Kim calmly put on her seatbelt as she sat in the front passenger seat. “I saw a video about it on the internet. My science teacher in school told me the same thing. Flour dust is flammable.”

  Paul kept his eyes on the darkened street as he kept on driving. “Good to know.”

  Troy leaned forward from the backseat so that his face was in between them. “I don’t know my way home.”

  Paul glanced at him briefly and smiled. “That’s okay, I don’t either.”

  14. Intolerance

  Kansas

  Reverend Julius Jones adjusted his glasses before picking up the tray of plastic cups that were filled with water and fruit juice. He had been working non-stop for the past two days with hardly any rest, but he felt that this was the right thing to do. Julius made his way from the kitchen and headed for the nave. Just a few months ago, his parishioners numbered close to two thousand. As of last night, he figured there were now more than five thousand people he was giving aid and comfort to. Julius had taken over as lead pastor of this non-denominational Christian church over six years ago. He was only the second black priest in the church’s history. The moment he started giving services, Julius’s message stressed that everyone, regardless of what they did, was welcomed by God to his bosom and would be saved.

  In his younger days, Julius had been involved with gangs and his own younger brother was killed in Chicago’s south side. His father had had enough and brought the family over to Wichita a few months after that. His brother’s death shocked him and under the tutelage of his grandmother, Julius had at last found salvation in religion as he wholeheartedly pursued his new calling as a priest. Every night, he would pray for his brother’s soul and he would make a pledge to himself and to his god that he would never turn anyone away who would ask for help.

  And so it came to pass that when the ancient gods revealed themselves to modern day society, and with so many of his parishioners were thinking that the Day of Judgment had finally arrived, Julius continued to stress calmness and the forgiveness of others. He lost many of his flock when hundreds of them packed up and left for the Rock of God Church in nearby McPherson County, but he continued to gain new adherents due to the fact he was willing to accept anyone. Pretty soon, a number of people from different faiths and even a few atheists began to work with him in order to stem the growing tide of intolerance as the Rock of God Church grew and eventually took over the city.

  As he made it to the church nave, Julius noticed that the lights in the high ceiling had begun to flicker again. That meant that he might need to start the generator in order to provide auxiliary power, but he was worried they might not have enough gas left for the motor to run. Since he had converted the front of the chancel as a sort of distribution point, Julius walked over to the set of tables he had placed facing the nave and set the tray of water and juice cups on it. Julius and his volunteers had spent the past week moving the church pews to the side of the nave and that allowed the refugees to place their sleeping bags and mattresses in the center of the hallway. While some of his parishi
oners complained that the church nave was meant for services to the Eucharist and not as a sleeping area, he stressed to them that mass was not as important as sheltering the oppressed.

  Michelle Kaplan, who was one of his volunteers, came through the entryway and ran up to him. She had winter gloves on and a scarf around her neck as a cold front was starting to move in. “Reverend Julius, there seems to be a convoy of cars that’s coming down the street. I think it’s the council.”

  Julius nodded as he adjusted his clerical collar. The so-called Morality Councils were a new creation by the Rock of God Church and they had the power to arrest anyone they deemed a “sinner”. He had made sermons against their organization many times and he had a feeling that a reckoning was finally coming. “Tell all the volunteers to get ready. We need to get our people into the nave right now and hold each other’s hands,” he said softly.

  As if on cue, the other volunteers began ushering in the people that were camped outside of the church and led them into the nave. The other refugees that had been sleeping on the floor of the church were being woken up as they all started to crowd the center. Julius reassured them as he shook a few nervous hands while walking over to the front of the vestibule. As more and more people flooded through the double doors, Julius continued to smile as he maintained a calm demeanor in order to prevent a panic. When the last of the refugees were helped inside, a half dozen of his volunteers stood beside him as they waited for the inevitable.

  For a short minute, there was an absolute silence that hung over the nave, one so quiet one might hear the proverbial pin drop. But seconds later, the double doors leading to the outside were suddenly flung open as more than two dozen men dressed in tactical gear and carrying batons and transparent riot shields flooded the vestibule.

  Reverend Julius smiled as he stepped forward and extended his hand. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

  One of the men in riot gear lifted up the transparent visor of his helmet as he walked up to Julius. He was fair-haired with a mustache. “You know why we’re here, Reverend.”

  Julius just kept on smiling. “Art Davis, how nice of you to come by again. How is your family?”

  Art shook his head. “I’m in no mood for small talk, Julius. Your church was declared to be unofficial almost a week ago by a unanimous vote from the Council. We gave you plenty of leeway and it looks like you’ve just abused our charity.”

  “Charity is an interesting word,” Julius said. “It means giving help to those in need. And that is exactly what I am doing for these people. They needed help and I am giving it to them.”

  Art frowned. Just a few months ago he had been head of security for the Rock of God Church’s compound up north, but he had been unceremoniously dumped in favor of that SWAT officer from Texas. Pastor Erik Burnley offered him a job in the Wichita Morality Council as a sort of goodwill gesture and he hated it. “You know as well as I do that we are an independent country now. We have new laws in place to ensure that everybody will be going to heaven when Jesus comes back. You know this.”

  “I am a believer in our Lord Jesus Christ just like the rest of you,” Julius said softly. “But I believe that as long as people of different creeds ask for my help, I must give it to them. Our Lord would have done the same.”

  Art was starting to lose his patience. He didn’t want a confrontation but he noticed that some of his men were obviously looking for trouble. “All these other creeds have been proven false, Reverend. Either you’re with Jesus or you’re with the devil. It’s as simple as that.”

  “As I’ve told you, I am with Jesus and I am doing his work.”

  Art grimaced. “No, you’re not! You are giving aid and comfort to the enemy!”

  Julius waved his left hand to his side. “Look around you, Art. Are these people truly your enemy? They are human beings and they all deserve love and kindness.”

  Art waved an accusing finger at him. “You’re wrong. You have got atheists and homosexuals as well as Jews and Muslims staying in this church of yours. They are not Christians and do not deserve to be in this country!”

  “While I admit that we have some people of the gay persuasion here,” Julius said. “Some of them also believe in Jesus Christ and they are therefore Christians as well. Jews and Muslims also believe in the same god as Jesus did, they are considered our brothers. As for the atheists, well, I believe that they can also be saved so long as they do no harm to anyone.”

  One of the other men wearing riot gear banged his baton on the shield he was holding. “Your kind doesn’t belong in the country of Christian Kansas, you faggot loving nigger!”

  Art held his hand up to calm his men before facing Julius again. “Look, let’s be reasonable here. You were given days to vacate this church, and you could have taken all these people with you. The bottom line is you don’t belong here with the true Christians anymore so why don’t you just get going? I can give you some time, but you and all your followers must be out of here by this evening. Okay?”

  Julius took a deep breath. “I appreciate you being diplomatic in this, Art, I really do. But me and my people have a right to stay as well. We’re not bothering anyone. The fact is, we got nowhere else to go to. You know how the rest of the country is like. Just allow us to stay and I promise you, we won't cause any trouble.”

  A man stepped forward from the group of volunteers and stood beside Julius. He wore thin, steel rimmed glasses and a rumpled wool coat. “Art, you remember me don’t you? I’m Janet Clancey’s brother in law, Mike Thomas.”

  Art snorted in disgust. “I know who you are. I just can’t believe you haven’t converted yet. Where’s Janet’s sister?”

  A woman walked to the front of the crowd and stood behind Mike. “I’m right here, Art,” she said. “You can tell Janet that I’m standing here with my husband and I won’t be leaving him.”

  Art rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe this, Alice. You’re a member of the Rock of God Church for chrissakes! What are you doing here with these gays and atheists?”

  Alice held onto her husband’s arm. “I don’t want to be part of a church that discriminates against people just because they have a different religion or even if they don’t have one. Can’t you see that Erik has twisted the words of the Bible and is turning you people into animals?”

  Another of the men in riot gear lifted up his visor and spat at their general direction. “Go to hell, you traitor. If you’re not part of the One True Church then you’re going down with the rest of them!”

  Art held up his hand to his men for a second time. “Alright, everyone just calm down!”

  But several of the Council members were raring to go as a few started to curse at the crowd while three others pointed their batons at the refugees as if they were marking their targets.

  Julius held his arms up in a gesture of peace as he looked around. “Please, everyone, please! Let’s all calm down here. We don’t want any violence.”

  Art was getting agitated. The council had ordered him to either arrest the refugees or force their deportation. He was against the former but they were refusing to leave peacefully. “Julius, you need to leave and take all your people with you, this is your last warning. If you don’t file out of here in a peaceful manner, we are going to arrest you and everybody else.”

  Several of the refugees got the message as a few dozen took what little possessions they had and started to make their way to the side doors. The majority of the crowd, however, sat down in the middle of the nave and locked their arms together.

  Art’s face was flushed. “Goddamn it, Julius. You’re going to be responsible for what happens next.”

  “We have a right to be here,” Julius said softly. “You can’t force us out just because some people here have a different religion. We never even got a chance to vote if Kansas would secede or not. I’m sorry but we cannot follow a set of laws that was agreed upon by a church that promotes intolerance and bigotry.”

  Art pulled the transpare
nt visor back down on his helmet as he signaled his men. “Alright boys, let’s round them up!”

  Alice was wild eyed. “You can’t do this! No one but God can judge anybody else!”

  Julius held up his hands as he knelt down. “No!”

  Within seconds, the council troopers began pushing past the volunteers as they charged towards the sit-in at the nave. Alice and Mike Thomas attempted to hold hands with the others at the front of the crowd, but they were quickly beaten by men wielding truncheons. People began to scream as the troopers used their batons and the situation immediately descended into chaos. The side doors of the church began to open as additional troopers came in along with attack dogs that were barely controlled by their leashes. One Council member decided to just unhook the strap on his pit bull terrier. It immediately bit a screaming black woman in the arm and wouldn’t let go.

  Julius tried to get up and stop them but another trooper immediately hit him in the forehead with his baton before surging past him. The pastor fell backwards on the stone floor, blood streaming from the gash on his head. Mike attempted to protect his wife but he was beaten into a bloody pulp and he fell into a heap on the floor. Alice screamed as she tried to shield her fallen husband with her own body but was rapidly pushed aside.

  Art used his shield to separate Alice as additional troopers came rushing through the main doors of the church. They had been friends before and Art was always invited to their parties. “Alice, stay down for God’s sake!”

  But Alice was in near hysterics as she saw them continuing to beat on her husband. “Mike! Miiike! No, they’re killing him!”

  As Art turned to see what the others were doing to Mike, Alice slipped past him to try and help her husband. Another trooper saw her coming and immediately smashed his truncheon on the ridge of her nose. Alice crumpled, the back of her head thudding on the tiled floor of the vestibule.