by Matt Drabble
He looked over to the caretaker and the young PC but they seemed as blunt as he felt. The life had been sucked from the room and it seemed hard to think straight. There was a settling fog of apathy in the air and Brendon found it hard to keep focused as Tolan smiled. Ravenhill was a cocoon tucked away from the outside world and there seemed little point in fighting against it. He watched on helplessly as Donald moved towards the children with the confidence of an adult. Brendon couldn’t believe that the man was so oblivious to what was happening here, no matter how absurd.
He looked towards Tolan’s honour guards and saw that their hands were far from empty. Innocent tiny fingers were darkly stained and all held silver implements of one kind or another. Glinting blades were gripped with murderous intent under dark eyes and watchful stares.
“TOLAN!” A voice suddenly exploded from the back of the room.
All eyes turned upwards to Sarah and Stuart as they entered the dining hall and strode confidently forward.
Ah the cavalry, Brendon thought happily as his thoughts started to clear upon the new intrusion.
For the first time, he noticed that Tolan’s smile faded just a little. He laid the baby down gently on the floor and took off his thick jumper to wrap it in. He stepped between the child and Tolan and swore that the monster would not touch the infant. He joined level with Maurice as they faced the beast. Sarah and Stuart joined the semi-circle as Paterson moved next to his sergeant. There were six of them now - six, versus Tolan and his band of Lost Boys and Girls.
Tolan took a step backwards as his children formed a protective barrier. “So, the gang’s all here then,” he smiled.
“Whatever you’ve got planned, Tolan, you’re still just a body of flesh and bone and a puny one at that,” Sarah said angrily. “All you’ve got are children standing between you and us and I mean to stop you once and for all.”
“Oh really?” He grinned and now Sarah faltered. “You really think that it’s that simple?” He laughed. “Haven’t we been here before SJ? Haven’t you already tried that?”
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on around here,” Donald barked, “but I’m starting to feel like everyone’s lost their bloody minds.”
“That’s entirely possible,” Stuart admitted quietly.
“Now it seems to me like some kind of game has gotten way out of hand and it’s time to put a stop to all of this nonsense,” the sergeant said, moving forwards with Paterson in tow.
“Oh, I quite agree, Sergeant,” Tolan smiled.
“You’re through, Tolan,” Sarah snarled.
“Did you really think that I would have learned nothing from our last encounter, my dear? Did you really think that I would show all of my pawns on the board this time? If you would be so kind...” he said to someone in the room.
The gunshot was a huge explosion that shattered the silence and left everyone with ringing in their ears. When the smoke cleared, Donald slumped forwards with the front of his face having been exploded forwards by the gunshot from behind and Paterson turned to level the gun at the rest of them.
Brendon stared at the young PC, but gone was the slack jawed cowardly imbecile; his face was now full of a cruel intelligence and his aim was steady and sure.
“Well now, I think that it’s high time that we got started,” Tolan said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation. “High time indeed.”
Chapter 21
The piped music floated down Main Street and Sarah ran and danced under the baking sun. It was one of those perfect summer days where endless possibilities stretched out beyond the horizon and you hoped that this moment would just freeze in time and you never had to leave.
She spotted Dr Samuel Creed waving to her from across the street. His bushy, bearded face was lit up with joy at seeing her and she waved coyly back. The smile on her face felt unfamiliar after such a long period of misery, but it also felt right.
Michael and Emily were playing with their daughter and little Lily was having a fine time. The procession along Main Street was lined with clowns and tumblers and Lily ran in amongst the performers with glee in her eyes at the bright costumes.
Sarah looked on as Emily spotted her and favoured her with a warm smile that showered her in forgiveness. Sarah instantly knew that despite everything they would be firm friends again and it filled her heart with joy. For the first time in a decade she felt like her old self again, full of joy and happiness and life.
She ran across the road to Samuel and he swept her up into his powerful arms and smothered her in his musky embrace. She felt warm and safe and she felt at home as the music played and the sun lit up a crystal blue sky.
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Ravenhill’s chapel was a room located on the basement floor above the catacombs. During its long and varied life, the passing owners had often shared one thing in common: their unusual religious beliefs. The chapel had served as home for many different types of worship to many different gods. Voodoo offshoots, Satanism, alien worship, and supremacy groups from both sides of the racial divide had all been worshipped here. Ravenhill didn’t play favorites when it came to religion; she had seen them all come and go and nothing lasted forever.
The room was fair sized and windowless. The walls were untreated pale stonework with an arch carved ceiling. The floor was untreated and dusty and the whole room looked like it had been tunneled out of the earth. There was a stone altar at the head of the room where many different men had knelt down before it in private unobserved worship. Behind the altar was a recessed smaller arch where pictures of various deities had hung through the ages. There were two hand-carved benches on either side of the room pushed against the walls leaving a large gap down the centre.
The benches were full of the 11 children and one young PC who was holding the baby wrapped in a large warm jumper. Tolan stood behind the altar and watched on patiently as the faces of his followers, his disciples, looked up at him with love and devotion. Down the centre of the aisle lay the figures of Sarah, Stuart, Maurice, and Brendon. They were arranged in a cross shape with their heads all touching in the centre and all four wore matching expressions of bliss and twitched like dogs dreaming of rabbits.
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Stuart watched the ball drift on the wind as it edged closer to the posts and he rose in jubilation as the referee blew his whistle to indicate full-time was up. He had scored the try to tie the Rugby World Cup final and his extra two points’ conversion had won the game. Nobody had given England a chance against the might of New Zealand in the final but they had prevailed where all others had fallen.
He was hoisted high on his teammates’ shoulders and carried aloft as the crowd screamed his name. He could see his beautiful pop star wife in the stands holding their daughter up to greet him as he approached and his heart was stuffed to the gills with happiness. Tears started to fall from his eyes in pure joy as the perfect moment was the culmination of a lifelong dream.
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Father Brendon Monroe looked in the mirror and flexed his sculpted body. His stomach was flat and rippled with a six pack to die for and his chest and arms were swollen with bulging muscle. He absently wiped the cream from his chest as the éclair spilt a little of its contents from his mouth.
The table behind him was full of food positively dripping with fat and cholesterol. Everything savory was deep fried and everything sweet was caked in cream and chocolate. His appetite was endless and his face was smeared with signs of his gorging. He knew that this was heaven because the more that he ate, the fitter and slimmer he got.
He finished off two whole family sized buckets of deep fried chicken and his six pack became an eight pack. He downed a liter of Coke and felt his teeth straighten and whiten. He looked back to the table and spotted the foot long hotdog selection and couldn’t help but wonder just what part of his anatomy they would improve.
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Maurice sat on his father’s lap and listened to him tell stories. Th
ese were rare and special times between them when the work was done, the sun was still warm into the light summer evenings, and a long day had drawn to a close. They sat beside the stream eating homemade sandwiches from the wicker basket on the warm grass and waited for the sun to set.
His father may not have shared his grandfather’s passion for the darker side of Ravenhill, but he was a story teller in his own right. Little Maurice would be transported to a land of castles and knights with battles to wage and dragons to slay. He would sit on his father’s knee with his thumb in his mouth and wrap himself in the man’s warm embrace. There was nowhere more special or safer than his father’s embrace.
Sleep would eventually take him on a warm tide of dreams, cased in shining armor and dressed in honour. He was a child without responsibilities and cares, a child without the pressing accountability of Ravenhill’s steely glare.
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Tolan watched over them as the four potentials slept. He needed only one more to complete his even dozen and for some reason he wasn’t yet able to decide on his own. The last was always going to be special and for some reason it had to be consensual. One of the four was going to fade away and fall into the darkness beyond, and surrender willingly. Whatever paradise they were being shown in their own private dreams would have to tempt them to walk beyond the veil and leave this world behind.
His power was still more promise than actuality and he had masters to serve. He hoped that they wouldn’t take SJ; he might aspire to be a god, but he still recognised his own petty desires for vengeance. Michael and Emily and their bastard offspring could wait, for now; it was the Eden girl that had betrayed him - she had been one of his own and she had turned and bit the hand that had fed her so lovingly.
He longed to join with Ravenhill and augment his strength, but for now he was passed between his Aztec gods who had brought him back and Ravenhill who had fuelled the engine. He had debts to pay in blood and sacrifice to the ancient ones and they wanted to choose who lived and who died. Being a puppet was a new experience to him, but he had patience on his side. He had wandered in purgatory for 10 long years with only his hate for sustenance; he could wait a little longer.
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Sarah walked arm in arm with Samuel as the day’s parade suddenly faded into a carnival night. This was the night when they had met and the world had crackled with possibilities as yet not dreamt of by her. Emily had introduced her to the dashing doctor and the night had been a magical wave of strange and confusing emotions, but it had been the start of their relationship.
They skipped through the bright lights and cheery music. The whole town had turned out tonight and every face was happy and joyous. The summer was long and Eden was prosperous and things were perfect.
Samuel won her a pink stuffed teddy bear by throwing a basketball through a hoop. The games operator had smiled as she chose her prize and the air was full of her laughter as she struggled to hold the huge bear.
Despite it only being the first date, Samuel was talking of marriage and children and a future painted in glowing shimmering neon.
He held her hand and set her prize down on the dry ground. He pulled her in closely and she knew that this would be their first kiss and the first of many. Her lips parted and she could smell his breath, warm with a hint of cotton candy.
The sticky treat had left his gums and tongue a dark pink - almost red, in fact. The redness darkened further and she saw his beautiful and kind face begin to falter. She reached out and touched his face with a trembling hand. His beard was soft to the touch and she cradled his face. His mouth started to leak with falling droplets of red and his eyes became full of shock and terror and she saw the axe in her hands. It was the axe that Tolan had placed there when he’d wanted Samuel out of the way and had used her to do it.
The carnival faded away in blackness and she found herself in the basements of Samuel’s office. Her mind rebelled and begged for the carnival to return, but she knew that this was the truth, this was the reality. The long summer days and hot sultry nights were just the lies that had fallen from Tolan’s lips.
Samuel’s face contorted in pain as the axe struck him in the face and she felt the wet spray of his warm blood splash upon her skin. She knew that she was doing this to the man that she loved and yet she could not stop.
Eventually, and mercifully, Samuel’s body became still and ceased its twitching. She stood over the broken and bloody mess and saw what she had done. She sank to her knees and scorched her throat with a heartbroken scream torn from her very soul. She wept for the man and for the future stolen from them; she wept for her shattered dreams and her bloody hands.
Suddenly, she felt a large hand rest on her shoulder and she turned. Samuel’s face was once again whole and smiling. He looked down at her with such tenderness and warmth that her tears dried. His eyes were wide and full of love for her; there was no bitterness in his heart, only forgiveness. He leaned in closely and whispered into her ear what she needed to do.
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Tolan prepared the altar ready for the sacrifice. It was unfortunate that he had lost the mother, as a pregnant woman was the most precious of gifts that he could bestow to the ancient ones. Back in Eden, the woman had to be a willing offering or at least have given some kind of consent. It was a sacrifice that blessed the land and brought bountiful crops and prosperity to the whole town. But here he needed to bless Ravenhill and corrupt the power for his own uses. Jemima had been willing so he could only hope that her baby was part of the agreement.
One of the remaining four lying dreaming on the floor would be the twelfth to fulfill his new disciples and the baby would seal his position at Ravenhill. He was a man that wanted it all; why settle for a small town when there was a whole world to conquer?
Since passing to the other side, he had learned that there was no need for such pomp and ceremony. No need for robes, rituals, and rhythmic chanting; in the end, it was only the blood that mattered - only the blood.
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Sarah felt herself floating through time and space. This was the great beyond, devoid of substance and yet solidly real. There was no structure here and no rules of physics to bind her mortal form. A weight had slightly shifted from around her heart. It wasn’t altogether gone, but at least she could breathe again.
She drifted on the winds over and through many lives of happiness and sorrow. Links of love and betrayal bound the lost souls here as they wandered hopeless and empty. It was a hollow world of shadows and flickers of light that danced tantalisingly out of reach.
There were faces here that looked hollow and gaunt as she passed; they were echoes of people long forgotten and hidden from the world that they had once known.
She knew why she was here; the others were locked in their own personal visions of heaven. Samuel had told her that it would only take one of them to decide to stay and then Tolan would be released upon an unsuspecting world. She had to find her way back before it was too late and all was lost.
She started to panic as the long tunnel seemed endlessly dark and directionless. There was no up or down or even forward and back, there was only the darkness. Disembodied voices floated past her with cries for help and wails of depression. She could feel the hopelessness thick and tangible in the air and it started to become harder and harder to move through it. The apathy of others started to drag her downwards and she began to drown under their despair. The harder she fought, the greater the suffocating weight. Her limbs began to tire and she started to fall. The airstream that had carried her on a floating breeze now started to falter under her. She flailed against the tide but she started to sink further and further. She lashed out in all directions but there was only misery and despair here for comfort.
It wasn’t so bad here, she thought, maybe if she could find her way back to…, the sound of the carnival filled her ears again as if by magic. Maybe it wasn’t really Eden or even real at all, but Samuel’s touch would feel warm and strong and
she could sleep a thousand years in his embrace. Why was she fighting anyway? She had fought on Eden’s green and pleasant land and won a victory of sorts, hadn’t she done enough? Hadn’t she suffered enough?
It was then that she thought of him, the real Samuel and the look of shock and terror in his eyes as she’d struck him down. That was real, that was pain, and whilst it may have been her hand that had swung the axe, it was Tolan that had pulled the strings. All roads led back to that monster and now here he was again with a rapidly rising body count and a new army of mind-washed followers. She couldn’t let his reign last any longer; she couldn’t let any more innocents suffer by his hand.
She kicked hard against the drowning ocean of malaise and broke for the surface. She knew that her motions and actions were all in her mind, but her arms pumped furiously fuelled now by hate. Love had brought her peace, but hate would get her home; as soon as she realised that, she was free.
She could feel Maurice’s presence up ahead and she swam hard towards him. She found him sitting under a tree with a look of happiness on his face. The grassy bank was lush and green and a babbling brook passed by beneath his feet. There was a picnic basket laid out for two people and she felt like she could smell a faint musky scent on the air.
A very human thought flashed through her mind that she should leave him here; it seemed so inhumane to drag him from such peace, but she knew that she must.
The tree wasn’t real and neither was Maurice’s form but it was a representation of him and how he saw himself inside his own paradise. Apparently, Maurice’s happiest time was as a small boy - this was where he most longed to be.
She reached out towards him with her mind rather than her voice. She probed gently around the corners of his thoughts and managed to snag a grip.