by Scott Reeves
Paula stepped forward, finally agreeing with her friend. “I’d love to hear anything you could tell us.” She pointed at the parish ruins. “I’m an archeology major.” She said it proudly, as if it gave her some sort of special connection in regard to the nearby ruins.
Nigel looked at Stacy, as if speaking to her alone. “Well, then, grab what you need from your car and come to the rectory.”
Jason bristled a bit at the guy’s sudden focus on his girlfriend.
Then Nigel directed his attention to the group at large. “What say, all? I’ve got a pot of stew I can heat up for dinner.”
Stacy ran back to the car and grabbed her pack out of the rear seat. “Tally ho!”
The rest of them grabbed their packs from the car. Paula locked it up, and they followed Nigel into the woods, Stacy walking at his side, chattering away. Paula followed a few steps behind. Mike and Jason brought up the rear.
As they stepped into the woods, Jason commented, “Am I the only one hearing the banjo music from Deliverance right now?”
NIGEL LED THEM THROUGH the dense undergrowth with an ease born of intimate familiarity with the area. He followed a barely visible path. Without the path, getting through the tangled bushes and hanging vines would have been impossible. Impossible for city-bred college students, at least.
The ruins of the parish church were about a half a mile distant, further into the woods than they’d seemed from the road. Jason and his friends lost their bearings several times as the trees became denser, but Nigel held steady, following the path that only he could see with any clarity.
Without any warning, they found themselves at the base of one of the towers. Paula ran her hands along the moss-covered stone.
“This is Anglo-Saxon!” she said, delighted. Her map had merely indicated the location of a ruin without offering any detail, but she recognized the architecture of the period.
“That’s correct,” Nigel said absently. He was gazing at Stacy with an expression that Jason recognized as easily as Paula had recognized the architecture. It was the lusty expression of a nerdy guy who hadn’t been laid in a long, long time. Jason recognized it because he’d once looked at Stacy the same way, before he’d mustered up the courage to ask her out and she’d inexplicably accepted.
“What was it called?” Paula asked.
“Saint Benefried’s Chapel,” Nigel said. “Built in the 7th century, last used in the 10th. My order has owned it since 965 A.D.”
“Incredible,” Paula said, her voice filled with awe.
“Your order?” Mike asked. “What’s that mean?”
Nigel didn’t answer. He just looked at his feet.
“Are you rich, then?” Stacy asked, sounding hopeful. “Are you a lord or a duke or something?”
“No,” Nigel said, casting his eyes down. “I should hope not. Rich men have difficulty getting into Heaven.”
“So they say,” Stacy said, smirking.
“Mark 10:25,” Nigel said.
“Is that so?”
They walked among the ruins. Other than the decaying corner towers, a brick archway and three crumbling walls were all that remained of the main structure.
Mike stopped near a pile of toppled masonry. He peered down into a knee-high tangle of weeds and bushes. Bending down, he picked up a massive statue. “Hey, look, Jason,” he called out, “somebody made a statue of you a long time ago, you ugly bastard!” The statue was a gargoyle with a hideous visage, covered with moss and hanging dirt clods.
Paula, distracted from her perusal of the ruins, stared at Mike’s bulging biceps and licked her lips. He was the only thing that could distract her from her studies. She was amazed that he had the strength to lift such a massive object.
Stacy strolled by and whacked Paula’s arm. “Stop drooling, girl.” She smiled. Then she winked at Nigel, who was watching her and not being too discrete about it. “Same goes for you, English.”
Jason glared and waved his arms to catch Nigel’s attention. “Hello? Where’s this rectory thing of yours?” He didn’t really care where the rectory was, of course. At this point he just wanted to get back to the car and lose Nigel. But moving them on was the only way he could think to get Nigel to stop ogling Stacy.
“Oh!” Nigel tore his gaze away from Stacy and turned his attention to Jason, as if just realizing he wasn’t alone with her. “It’s, um, it’s just beyond the hill there.” He pointed to a tree-covered slope about a quarter mile away.
“What’s a rectory?” Mike asked.
“It’s a house, honey,” Paula told him. “It’s where the priest of this church would have lived.”
Jason looked at the distant hill. “Way out there, deeper into the woods?” he grumbled. “Am I the only one that thinks this is a bad idea that keeps getting worse?”
Stacy strode past him to take Nigel’s arm. “Yes, you are, love. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Oh, I’ve got a fine sense of adventure,” Jason said. “Every single minute with you is an adventure, sweetie. But I thought you were in such an all-fired hurry to get to back to London in time for the royal wedding.”
“I am. But like you said, the situation is what it is. I’m sure Nigel and his brother have a television set. We can watch the wedding on that.”
“We don’t have television,” Nigel said.
Stacy was nonplussed. “You don’t have a television!” She shook her head. “Well, things will work out.” She tugged at Nigel, indicating the supposed direction of the rectory. “Lead on, Nigel.”
Nigel cast a feeble smile at Jason, and started off up the path that only he could see. Not a mocking smile; an apologetic smile. Jason hated him all the more for that.
Paula followed them, casting a wistful glance backward at the ruins.
Mike put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”
The two of them stared after Stacy, Nigel and Paula.
“She’s really pushing me again, Mike.”
“Don’t let her. Break it off and find someone else.”
Jason stabbed a finger after Stacy, who had by now almost been swallowed from view by the trees. “But have you seen the ass on her?”
Mike nodded. “It’s a hellacious ass, all right.”
“For guys like me, asses like that only come along once in a lifetime,” Jason said. “You think I’ll ever get another chance at an ass like that?”
Mike shook his head. “Not a chance, buddy.”
“Am I losing her?”
“To a guy like that? He’s even uglier than you. She’s just flirting. That’s what sluts do.”
“Hey! She’s no slut!”
“Trust me. She’ll fuck your brains out tonight, your dick will work its magic on her, and things will be fine in the morning. You wait and see.” Mike patted Jason on the back, then started off after Nigel and the girls.
Jason stood there a moment. “You really think my dick is magic, dude?”
“It has to be,” Mike said over his shoulder. “Why else would Stacy stay with someone like you? You’re complete opposites.”
“True.” Jason shrugged and started walking. “And thanks. Wait’ll I tell your buddies on the football team that you think my dick is magic.”
The rectory was nestled on the edge of a pasture just beyond the hill. It was a two-story mansion made from the same ancient stone as the decaying parish church. Vines and flowers crawled up the façade. Some of the windows lining the second floor were broken, and the lawn was overgrown with weeds, but for the most part the building seemed in good repair. A gravel road that had probably once led out to the narrow lane was grown over with grass and weeds, and several trees grew in the center track.
“Don’t get out much, do you?” Jason commented as they emerged from the woods, noting the impassibility of the gravel road.
“As I said, we have no car,” Nigel said. “We have no need to leave.”
They walked up the lane toward the building, looking around at t
he lush greenery.
“Where do you get food, then?” Mike asked. “Isn’t it a long walk into town without a car?”
‘The Lord provides for us,” Nigel said. “The locals supply us with food as well.”
They stepped up onto the porch of the rectory.
“Locals?” Jason said. “Maybe one of them might be able to give us a ride into town.”
Nigel shook his head. “We’re all pretty much practicing neo-Luddites around here. An insular bunch, but we look after one another.”
The front door was made of heavy oak. Christian symbols were engraved around the edges: crosses, swords, fish and such. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Nigel preceded Jason and the others. They stepped into a large vestibule with a vaulted ceiling. At the vestibule’s rear, a marble staircase with an ornate railing ascended to the second floor. To the right and left, doors led into a dining room, a kitchen and a sitting room.
Nigel spread his arms. “Make yourselves at home. My brother and I generally use only the first floor. There are plenty of bedrooms upstairs. Pick any you’d like. I’ll just pop into the kitchen and throw the leftover stew on the cooker.”
Nigel stepped into the kitchen, leaving them alone.
Painted portraits of people from hundreds of years earlier lined the walls of the vestibule. Several suits of armor, the metal tarnished with age, stood at intervals between the portraits. Everything had a light coating of dust, and cobwebs hung in the corners of the room.
Mike whistled appreciatively. The entire building reeked of age and history. “So a priest would have lived in this place, centuries before Columbus discovered America?”
“Columbus didn’t discover America,” Paula corrected him. “People knew about America long before him.”
Mike tsked her. “You know what I mean. It’s incredible.”
Paula nodded. She walked down the vestibule, peering at the portraits, examining the suits of armor. “History is incredible, honey. You’re finally feeling a little of the awe that drives me to study archeology.”
The stairs led to a long hallway on the second floor that ran the entire length of the building. The hallway carpet bore a pattern that had faded with age. Doors lined the hallway to the left and right.
The first two rooms they looked into were completely empty. The windowpanes were broken, and the interior was weather damaged. The third room was furnished with a bed, an oak dresser and a throne-like chair. The bed was made up with clean sheets and blankets, so it was obviously put to occasional use.
“We’ll take this one,” Stacy said. She nudged Jason in the ribs. “Hopefully the springs aren’t rusty. We’ll give them a good check later, right, sweetie?”
Jason smiled. They dropped their packs on the wooden floor.
The room directly across the hall was also a bedroom, similarly furnished and maintained. “I guess this one’s for us,” Mike said to Paula.
The smell of cooking meat wafted up the stairs. Nigel appeared moments later. “Dinner will be ready shortly,” he said.
“It smells delicious,” Stacy told him.
THE DINING HALL WAS huge. An ornate crystal chandelier hung on a golden chain from the ceiling. A sturdy oak table, very long and narrow, looked like it could seat an army. Stained glass windows in one wall shattered the fading daylight into a thousand colors, which glinted off tarnished suits of armor standing in each of the four corners. The spacious room was very cold, and smelled musty.
They all sat together at one end of the table, eating the meager stew that Nigel served them.
“Please excuse the frugality of the meal,” Nigel said. “I didn’t expect company this evening.”
“It’s fine,” Paula said.
Nigel gazed surreptitiously at Stacy as they ate
Mike gawked around as he spooned the stew into his mouth. “This place is as big as a king’s feast hall.”
Paula smiled. “Then you’ve obviously never been in a palace. You’re such a bumpkin, honey.” Mike was from a small town in the Midwest, and she often liked to tease him about his small town small-mindedness.
“Where’s your brother?” Jason asked.
Nigel shook himself, taking his attention off Stacy as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “He’s at his post.”
“At his post? What’s that mean?” Jason asked.
“He’s working. We alternate in twelve-hour shifts. He’d only just relieved me, and I was taking a short stroll through the woods, when I came across the four of you.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I go back on duty at 4 AM sharp.”
Stacy laughed. “At his post? Duty? You sound like some sort of soldier, or a guard or something.”
“We are guards,” Nigel replied. “For over a thousand years, the men of our line have been at our post here.”
In the face of Nigel’s utter seriousness, Stacy’s laughter faded.
“What are you guarding?” Jason said, smirking. He, unlike Stacy, was amused by the sudden serious tone that had descended upon Nigel.
“It’s been so long, we’ve forgotten. All that remains is the charge laid upon us by a distant ancestor: the seal must not be broken. What’s inside must not get out.”
Jason broke into a fit of derisive laughter.
“Jason! Stop it!” Stacy speared him with her eyes, glaring at him.
Jason choked back his laughter as if he’d been slapped. He ducked his head, and covered his embarrassment by taking a long draught from his glass of tea.
“Where is your post, Nigel?” Stacy asked.
“A mile beyond here, deeper into the woods.”
“I’m intrigued,” Paula said. “Would you mind if we went with you in the morning?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. You’re welcome to accompany me. It’s just my brother and I. No one to object.”
Paula looked at Stacy. “What do you say? We’ll probably miss the wedding.”
Stacy smiled at Nigel. “That’s all right. I’ll watch it online later.”
Jason looked darkly between her and Nigel. She’d been so eager to see the wedding. If she was willing to give it up, she must really be smitten with Nigel.
Nigel caught Jason’s dark gaze upon him. He flashed a disarming smile at Jason that failed to disarm. Nigel’s nervous gaze fell to his empty dinner plate. “Be ready to leave by 3:30 in the morning. David doesn’t like it if I’m late.”
“No problem.”
After a moment of silence, Nigel looked back up and met Jason’s eyes. “Look. I apologize for my attention upon your lady. I don’t wish to make you jealous.”
Stacy laid a hand on his arm. “No need to apologize, Nigel.”
Nigel shook his head. “I must. You should understand, I don’t often get a chance to see women. Most of the time, it’s just my brother and I here. So, when a woman does show up, God forgive me, but I find myself unable to look away. I know you’re thinking that I’m some sort of psychotic creep living alone in the in the woods, and that I’m going to murder you all in your sleep and have my way with your girl. But please believe me: you have nothing to fear from me. I’m one of the good guys.”
Jason shook his head and looked down at his plate, feeling shame and silently cursing Nigel for being so likeable.
LATER, AROUND MIDNIGHT, Jason and Stacy were in bed having sex. She was on top, grinding down on him like a woman possessed.
A floorboard outside the door creaked. Then a shadow moved across the narrow strip of light leaking in through the crack between floor and door.
Jason didn’t hear the creak, his mind overcome by Stacy’s incredible skills.
But Stacy heard. She jumped off Jason and leapt toward the door.
“Hey!” Jason said.
Stacy threw open the door and peered out into the hall. A shadowy figure was just disappearing down the stairs, too quickly for her to identify. Since cries of passion were coming from behind the door across the hall, she knew who the culprit was.
&nbs
p; As she closed the door, she looked more closely at it, noticing something for the first time. “Wouldn’t you know it,” she called back to Jason. He was now sitting up on the edge of the bed, his breathing heavy and his wild eyes glazed with unsatisfied lust. “This must be one of the few houses left in the world with an old-fashioned keyhole.” She pointed to the big opening beneath the doorknob. How she’d missed it before, she didn’t know. She peeked back out into the hallway and smiled toward the stairs. “He was watching us,” she said, amused.
“Who was?” Jason said, his mind still lust-numbed.
“Who do you think, dummy?”
Jason scratched his stomach. “And he’s one of the good guys. Yeah, right.”
She stared at the empty stairs, imagining Nigel standing somewhere in the shadows, watching her. “He is, sweetie, he is. And so are you. I’m an excellent judge of character.”
She closed the door and turned back to him. “Now, where were we, my little stud monkey?”
SHE’D BEEN LIVING IN fire for as long as she could remember. She had no concept of years. Her mind knew only pain, fear and terror.
She stood near the edge of the lake of fire, submerged up to her shoulders. Flames licked her hairless head, burning her flesh without consuming it. Below the surface, the boiling liquefied rock tried and failed to cook her alive. Her neurons felt the fire, and she screamed endlessly as they relayed the message of it to her brain, inundating her with an incessant stream of agony.
Once she had lived near the center of the lake, but over the years she’d been pushed slowly outward by the writhing of the others who shared her home. Not more than ten feet from her, the dry shore beckoned, free of flame. In fleeting snatches of sanity, she recalled that she had witnessed others try to climb onto the shore, but they were always stopped by the Lord’s minions, who beat the escapees with clawed hands and stung them with whip-like tails before tossing them back to the center of the lake.
No, she knew more than pain, fear and terror. She knew the desire for escape. And now, the chance came to her.
Unseen by her, the Beast who lived deep within the lake thrust an enormous tentacle up to the ledge where the Lord watched over them all. This caused a great and violent wave to sweep across the surface of the lake of fire. Her nearest neighbors closer to the center, battered by the wave, slammed against her. The impact sent her reeling toward the shore.