by Deena Remiel
“Precisely the reason for sacrifice, my dear. Make yourself comfortable while you await your preparations. I’ll be back to check on you later.”
He turned and left the room without fanfare. The snick of the lock amplified her dire situation. Before she had a chance to ponder and go insane, a woman in scrubs came in. She looked all business, but what kind of business Camille wouldn’t even try to guess.
“Hello, I’m here to prepare you for your special presentation to our Lord and Master. Your full participation is crucial to your success here today. I shall be etching your body with important symbols for the ceremony. So if you feel the need to scream while I’m working, go ahead, as it only enhances the sacrifice.”
Lord, give me strength to endure and survive despite my initial resignation to my dark fate. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to belong to Satan! I want to live to fight the evil in this world!
Glint from the instruments as the woman took them out of their plastic casings caused her eyes to blink and water. They looked so sharp and scary! Keep it together, don’t scream. Whatever she does, don’t scream.
She brought over a tray of assorted tools and picked up one that looked like a surgeon’s scalpel. A broad smile crossed her face. “Let’s begin, shall we? First, I shall etch a pentagram on your stomach. Let’s see what a good lamb you can be.”
Chapter Ten
Derek made quick work of emptying his pocket of goodies from his backpack onto his cot. He silently thanked his parents for training him to be prepared for anything. Now, to see if anything he had would help him escape. The digital recorder wouldn’t help, but the granola bar was useful. He opened the wrapper and broke off a piece to eat. A bobby pin wouldn’t help from the inside, but the sewing kit had needles that could be used as a weapon. The thread could be twined together to make a garrote of sorts.
He got down to business, not knowing how long he had before attention returned to his condition. First weaving the various needles into his waistband, he then began the tedious task of blending all the different colored thread together. With nothing else to keep his mind occupied, his thoughts returned to Camille. He could only imagine what they were doing to “purify” her for sacrifice, and was helpless at the moment to do anything about it. It made him sick.
Her demeanor as they took her concerned him, too. When they’d spoken, she seemed resigned to this imposed fate. Had he more time to talk with her, he may have been able to turn her outlook around. Instead, he could only wonder if she snapped out of it herself and chose to fight for her life.
***
Victor smiled pleasantly at the people and shook hands with a few who insisted on being seen rubbing elbows with him as he entered the library. Most were leaving at this point, as it neared closing. He needed to speak with Susan personally. It was time she moved up to the next level in her commitment to the Mission. As he drew near to the circulation desk, he caught her eye and she put down the book held in her hand. She walked out to greet him.
“Victor, hello. I’m glad to see you.” She leaned in and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’ve been worried sick about Nancy. Where is she?”
In the same quiet manner, he answered. “Susan, may we have a few moments in private together?”
“Certainly. Come into my office.” She led him behind Circulation to her back office and closed the door. “What’s going on?”
“Nancy won’t be returning to work, Susan. And you may want to find a new roommate. She won’t be returning to life, either. Her usefulness had come to an end, thanks to your keen observation of her working against me. I’m asking you to step into the High Priestess position. I think you’re ready. You’ve shown loyalty and dedication to Satan. It’s time.”
“Really? Oh, my word! I’m so honored. I’ve listened to Nancy practicing her chants, so I’m familiar with them. Oh, thank you Victor.”
She impressed him by not missing a beat. No tears shed over Nancy and joy over becoming High Priestess earned her even higher marks. “Use her handbook and practice well. We sacrifice day after tomorrow.”
“Yes, I will. I’ll make you so proud, I promise.”
“See to it. I must go. I have work piling up on my desk at home.” He shook her hand, opened the office door and proceeded out to his awaiting car. Soon, he wouldn’t have to work to keep his billions ever again. Satan had promised him.
***
There was a light rap on Victor’s study door. He looked at the clock on his desk and grew concerned. He had reason to be awake after midnight, but who else would and need to see him?
“Enter!” His housekeeper appeared as the door opened and behind her, his second in command. “Orion, come in. What brings you here at this late hour? You should be at home, asleep.” Victor remained seated by his desk in the study.
“Sir, there’s news to report. I’m not sure if it pertains to us, but I had a feeling, and thought I should bring it to your attention personally and immediately.” He paused and seemed to be fighting for the courage to speak of it.
“Out with it, then. No good keeping it in. Whatever it is we will deal with it.”
“I just heard over the police scanner that they found a dead body, burned beyond recognition, in the forest.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“They were calling in from a forested area. Overlord, I think they found our ceremonial site.”
“Damn. I told Bart to go back and collect the bones once they cooled. All right, let me think. I left nothing there that could be linked to me. The site, however, is prepared for sacrifice. That’s not a problem. The entire police department’s under our thumb, but the station on the mainland may have heard about it, too. Get in touch with Bill Hadley and have him handle it. Now, it’s going to take them a while to figure out who the body belongs to. In the meantime, we need to move up the rituals and change where to do them. They must come first. Everything depends on them occurring.”
“You said we needed water for one of them. Doesn’t the library have a well in the back?”
“Yes, you’re right. It does. Brilliant idea. We can sacrifice the child in the basement and right out back, we can sacrifice the Marked One. It’s all open back there, though. Get one of those huge party tents. We’ll tell people that the well needs extensive repairs and the tent is to contain the construction work and keep people safely away. Rent a few generators to mask any sounds from the ritual. And let Bob and Dan know they need to park their plumbing trucks in the parking lot. Get one of those covered walkways, too, to connect the tent to the backdoor of the library. No one should see who’s walking in and out.”
“Got it. I’ll arrange everything and call Bill straight away.”
“Orion, you’ve done well. Very well.”
“Thank you, Overlord. I am most grateful and honored. I live only to serve him and the Mission.”
“It’s good to know you have the Mission’s health always on your mind. I shall speak highly of you to Satan. You may go now.”
Orion bowed to him and walked out a much taller man than he did coming in. If things didn’t go well, Victor knew his second in command could pick up the pieces and move forward without him.
He picked up the phone and called Susan. It rang only once before she picked up and answered. “Hello?”
“Susan, it’s Victor. Change of plans. Our library meeting scheduled for Sunday has been changed to tomorrow at six o’clock in the evening. Please call everyone in the morning and notify them of the change as they are all expected to be there. Thank you. Good evening.”
He hung up before she could utter a word. It was late and he had even more to do now. Visiting his sacrificial lambs would be first on his late night agenda. Bart would need to pay for his serious misstep. He’d have to think about his consequence and whether it required something of a more permanent nature or something semi-permanent. Then he’d prepare his body and mind for the rituals.
A hidden closet behind his desk contained the red rob
e he’d wear tomorrow. He put his arms through their holes and covered his head with the hood. Down to the basement he marched, eager to see the boy and the young woman. He reached the boy’s cell first.
Peering through the window slit, he saw him sleeping on the cot, a plush toy in his arms. His mother had done well to ease his worry. She would be moved up in the ranks for her ultimate sacrifice. He moved on to the reporter down the hall. He would make a nice extra sacrifice. It would show his followers that those who question the Mission or try to stop their freedom of worship were not worthy of living. He looked through the slit in the door and saw the young man sleeping while sitting up on the floor. He walked on to the other side of the basement where Camille Dutton had been moved.
He heard some muffled moans and sobs as he came to stand by her door. Looking in, he found the sacrificial rite preparer still hard at work on Camille, her canvas. Intrigued, he decided to go in and watch. Rather than knocking, he used his key to unlock and open the door. He stepped in and smiled as the preparer turned and greeted him.
“This is such an honor, you being here, Overlord. Thank you.”
“I’m fascinated with your work and wanted to see it firsthand. Don’t let me interrupt you. Please, continue.”
“Well, first I’ll explain what I’ve done so far. The pentagram has been etched into her belly over here.” She lifted Camille’s top and pointed low on her abdomen. “Eight inverted crosses have been carved into the skin on her legs and arms, as you can plainly see. Now, I’m just about to begin the final series of markings. Please have a seat. Our lamb here has been helpful at times and not so very at others. I do believe this last bit will be just the ticket to make her offering the sweetest possible.”
“You do know your craft, don’t you, Melissa?”
“Thank you. Working in plastic surgery has its benefits, sir.” She laughed and turned her attention back to her subject on the table. “Now, Camille, these are the last markings I will be making on you. They’ll be the most painful, so feel free to scream as loud as you wish. In order to do these, however, I will need to secure your head. We wouldn’t want to ruin a perfectly good etching because you were weak and moved your head.”
Camille seemed dazed and in considerable pain. As Melissa strapped her head down and taped her eyelids closed, she pleaded to be released. She tried to talk reason to him, and he let her ramble on to placate her.
“And now I will begin the final symbols on her eyelids- the pitchfork wheel, one on each eyelid.”
Victor thought Nancy’s last breaths were music to his ears, but to hear the tortured scream come from Camille as Melissa began her handiwork, he knew this to be a truly special moment. Suddenly, a searing pain swept through his chest, and he grasped the door frame so as not to fall to his knees.
Satan’s voice echoed through his mind. “I am pleased, human. I can taste her soul as she screams. Give her to me soon. I grow impatient for what is mine.”
“Yes, my Lord and Master. Tomorrow it shall be done. She shall be yours and you may enter our world.”
“What is that, sir?”
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Satan is pleased. Continue on.”
The pain subsided. He watched Melissa dig precise symbols onto Camille’s eyelids, listened a moment longer to the sweet wailing, and then he left to check off another item on his late-night agenda. Bart. What would he do about him? He had a cell free. Maybe a few days in it would teach him a lesson.
Chapter Eleven
A screeching came from the far recesses of Derek’s mind. A falcon or hawk?
“Get up, maggot.”
No bird. A rusty cell door. He opened his eyes and found himself in the same position he’d been in before falling asleep. In front of him stood another one of Victor’s goons. Not Bart. That was fortunate. He didn’t have the bulk or the mammoth size. Shaking off the cobwebs, a plan immediately took shape.
“I said get up. And put your hands on your head.” Fortune flew out the window as the man pulled a gun out and pointed it directly at him. Nothing could be easy.
“Okay, gimme a minute.”
As he stood, he adjusted his shorts, discreetly removing a couple of needles and hiding them between his fingers. Then, he put his hands on top of his head. The man stepped toward him and Derek took his one and only chance to break free. Hands already in a high position, he slammed the needles down and into the eyes of the unsuspecting man. Shrieking madly, the man dropped his weapon. Derek took the opportunity to pick it up and run out of the cell, shutting the door and locking it behind him.
He didn’t know which way to go. He just knew he had to find the boy and Camille. Sneaking about from one room to another, he peeked inside through their window slits. There wasn’t a soul about anywhere in any of the rooms. They must’ve saved me for last. But there’s one last room to look in. Peering in sent his stomach roiling. Blood stained the patient table and floor, and he swore he could see bloody footprints smeared on the floor leading to the door.
Dear God, what have they done to you, Camille?
He had a sinking feeling plans had changed. Running down the hallway and up the stairs to the main house, he cautiously crept about, trying to locate anyone that could be persuaded to give him information. It was quiet. Too quiet. Victor had probably left the house. But to where? Where were they going to hold the ritual ceremony?
As he snuck into the kitchen area, he found an older, graying woman washing the dishes at the sink. Gun in hand, he stalked over to her and positioned the gun right at the base of her skull.
“If you shout or speak without my permission I will kill you right where you stand. Understand me? Speak only yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“Put down the rag and the dish. Is anyone besides you in the house? Speak.”
“No.”
“Where did Victor go? Speak.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You will be dead in five seconds if you answer wrong again. Tell me where he took the sacrifices. Speak.”
“To the library. He took them to the library. Please don’t kill me.”
“Open the cabinet under the sink.” She bent down and opened the door.
“Get in. Head first.” She complied, pushing cleaning products out of the way and wedging herself inside. He closed the cabinet door and ripped the sprayer hose out, using it to tie the handles together.
He scrambled to the front door, praying his car hadn’t been destroyed. He’d lost his keys at some point during his capture, but knew how to hotwire a ride. There it stood in the circular drive. His savior. His red Chevy SS. Opening the driver side door, he threw the gun on the passenger seat and ripped wires from under the steering column. In quick fashion, he connected a couple of wires and had his car running. Tearing out of the circular drive, he raced to the library, praying he’d be in time.
***
Cars filled the small library parking lot, and there were plumbing and excavating trucks parked as well. The kiosk listed a Library Board meeting today at six o’clock this evening. Great cover for cult proceedings. Derek parked his car, wedged the gun in his waistband and cautiously scoped out the lay of the land. Step by step he walked the perimeter of the building. As he turned a corner, he nearly slammed right into another man skulking around.
“Michaels? What are you doing out here?”
“Trying to save my son, Galloway. Ever since Zach’s disappearance, my wife hasn’t been acting the way I think a mother should, given her child went missing, so I cornered her today about it. She said he’s marked for greatness and a higher calling, and then she walked out. I followed her here. She’s inside the library right now. I think she’s behind his disappearance. I think she’s given him to this satanic cult you were talking about. I’m afraid she belongs to it and sacrificed my son to them.”
“I’m so sorry. After doing research, I believe he is, too. A friend of mine has been taken, too. We can work toget
her to get them both out alive.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Do you know if the front door is unlocked?”
“It’s locked.”
“All right, we’ll just have to quietly bust our way in, then. Follow me.” They walked up to the front door, as though patrons, and looked through the window. A mat lay on the floor on the other side of the door. “Okay, this is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna bust the window and unlock the door. If I do it right, the mat should dampen the sound of breaking glass falling to the floor.”
“Here, use my bandana to protect yourself.” Michaels handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He wrapped his elbow and gave the window two good jabs with it. On the second try, the glass broke, but stayed together. He gave it a third tap and the pieces fell to the mat as anticipated. Fishing his arm through the hole, Derek found the three sets of locks and opened each one. Bringing his arm back out, he then opened the door. “We’re in. Let’s go.”
“Now what do we do?” Zach’s dad whispered.
“We go down to the basement. I’ll cause a diversion while you escape with your son. Then I’ll grab my friend.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it.”
Derek led the way. He stopped at the top and listened. A group of people chanted and alternated with a single female voice. Underscoring the repetitious, monotone liturgy, came a child’s whimper. Michaels would have flown down the stairs had Derek not been in his way. He grabbed a stack of books that lay on the landing, tiptoed down a couple of steps and hurled them one at a time into the crowd, slamming them into people’s heads and bodies. Giving Michaels the nod, Zach’s father charged into the frenzied crowd.
Still in the shadows, he watched as people scurried about, some cleaning up any evidence of their thwarted sacrifice and escaping out the back door, while others threw off their robes and headed out to parts unknown. But one other, the High Priestess, dressed in a black robe and ruby encrusted crown, seemed oblivious to the chaos surrounding her, so intent on sacrificing the boy. Arms raised with Satan’s Saber grasped in both hands, she lowered it inch by inch. Michaels tackled her from the side and they tumbled to the floor. A scream reverberated through the room. When he stood once again, he held the bloodied Saber and used it to free Zachary bound to the altar. Throwing the knife aside, he grabbed him close and raced up the stairs with the child cradled in his arms. He stopped briefly before Derek.