“It’s time.” Francis said, clapping Adam lightly on the back.
Francis led Adam down the dark hallway, winding his way through confidently. Adam could make out little in the gloom but Francis, Esmeralda, and himself. The shadows around them whispered in a chorus of disembodied voices, speaking forbidden secrets on slithering tongues just too faintly to be understood. Adam tried to ignore them, to drown them out with the sound of his own voice.
“I’ve never been to an auction before. Not a real one, I mean.” Still the shadows slithered, giving rise to a faintly unsettling feeling which started behind his eyes. “Of course, I’ve been to ones back home. Like an estate sale. Or a garage sale.” Adam gestured down at his tuxedo. “But I’ve never been to anything formal.”
Esmeralda was regarding him, concerned.
“There is nothing to worry about.” Francis was speaking, his confident voice carrying Adam through the gloom. “New experiences are always something to look forward to.” Adam gulped and nodded.
Francis and Esmeralda took a seat in the back of a town car. Adam didn’t know when they had arrived at one, or where it had come from. A long line of identical black town cars stretched in front of and behind him. The shadows around him blocked all else from his sight. Adam followed, dutifully, not unsurprised to see Lily in the car beside him.
“Do you know where we’re going, Adam?” The vulture asked through her tight black beak.
“The Red Dragon.” Adam snorted. Francis gave a sidelong glance to Esmeralda. She met the challenge in his gaze with a toss of her red hair.
“That’s right. Why are we going there?” She cawed in response.
“It’s all in your plan.” Adam sneered at her. All three of them looked shocked at that. “You’ve been playing me from the beginning.” Francis gripped something tightly in the seat next to him, nervousness playing on his face.
“You think you’re going to bury me. That you can stay the favorite.” Francis visibly relaxed at Adam’s words.
“No Adam. We’re here because of a happy mistake.” Francis’ words quieted the whisper of the malevolent shadows, protecting and ensuring Adam’s mind at the same time.
“Lilith mentioned she told you about Three Roads Coven.”
Insane. They were all just crazy. Adam said as much.
“Maybe, Adam, maybe. But we have the history to prove it. Three Roads is special. It is a old coven, an old family, that stretches all the way back to Albion.” Adam wasn’t positive, but he was fairly certain that Albion was an oven cleaner. “We carry on our family traditions. A religion which transcends the boundary of the dawn of man. Our knowledge is old, infinitely older than the oldest mummy in the biggest museum. Our people were like the gods themselves, knew all there was to know of science, art, mathematics, and natural philosophy. But they were not perfect.”
Francis’ voice grew faint as the convoy rolled onward, outside the boundaries of downtown Slendervale. He spoke barely above a whisper, the mad chorus of the shadows around him gibbering with tongueless mouths in agreement with his words. They were all insane.
“The ancestors sought for themselves all the pleasures of the earth, for like the gods themselves, they had voracious appetites. And so our blood became thin, widespread. Our great traditions, even some of our oldest secrets, were given to the unworthy and mundane. They stole for themselves our wisdom and power, and with it they thought to make themselves gods.” Francis snorted. Esmeralda and Lily were silent, listening in rapt attention.
“Without the sacred blood, they were nothing. Like children. And like all children, they grew rebellious. Envious of our birthright, they rose up against us. They chased us from village to village, even across continents. They sought to destroy us so that only they remained. They would turn men back into apes, if only so they could rule over the apes alone.” Well, that logic made sense to Adam. He said so, to the shock and horror of those around him. Francis, however, was unperturbed.
“Indeed. And they were successful, for a time. Their power grew great, from the shell of our old empire, and after centuries they thought us bested. They were wrong. The orphans they left behind led mundane, trivial lives, worthlessly ground to dust against the wheel of time. But they lived, nonetheless. They married, and had children. Their children had children.” Adam nodded to himself. That was, indeed something that people did. “The blood grew thin, Adam, so very thin. And still they hunted us. The blood of Three Roads is more sinister than most. It hides, Adam, in cycles. Like the moon herself, it waxes and wanes across generations. And so we hid, better than most. But every other generation would give birth to one of us, each in the fullness of his power. In our foolishness, we thought this existence was safe. Skulking and hidden, we waited for our enemies to die off themselves. And so it has been across two millennia, as we squandered our gift on the mundane and let wane our very salvation. Only once before did we try to strike back, to claim the world that was our birthright. We were betrayed.”
This part was familiar to Adam. Something he had heard somewhere before. Maybe something he’d read. His mind was too fuzzy, his thoughts too dull, to focus much on what was happening.
The car came to a stop. Adam could hear the sound of doors opening and closing in the empty air. Francis remained seated.
“We’re here.” Adam stated dumbly. Anything to keep the whispering at bay.
“Do you know why we are here?” Francis’ gaze was intense. The fixed stare of the emerald eyes was hypnotizing. Adam shook his head.
“We are here because of a mistake, Adam. A weakness of my ancestors. A weakness I didn’t learn from.” Esmeralda coughed, lightly. Her face was marred with a scowl, uncharacteristically contorting her elegant visage.
“We took in a young woman, Adam. An outsider in the Coven. The first in almost three centuries. It was my fault,” he amended, with a glance at Esmeralda. “Elizabeth Montgomery. She left us unexpectedly, vanishing in the night. We feared treachery, but no one came for us. In that fear I found solidarity. A way to restore what was ours. A way to bring back the strength in our blood.”
Adam shuddered. He had a strong feeling he knew what Francis was going to say next. The thought screamed against every instinct in his body.
“We tried, Adam, for many years. Esmeralda and I were finally able to produce an heir. A daughter.” At this Francis reached out a hand and stroked Lily’s feathered face.
“I believe there is always a way, Adam, if we are clever enough to find it. And so I searched for Elizabeth for many years.”
Adam’s stomach heaved. The whispering in the shadows of Francis’ words grew louder, threatening to tear away his sanity.
“I was right, Adam. She ran away out of fear! She rejected the gift we had given her, and sought to hide herself and her infant son.”
“No-”
“She left Slendervale. She left her old name behind. She was careful, Adam, very careful. But not perfect. By the time I found Donna Church, you had already left her. You were coming to me on your own, driven by fate.”
The chthonic whispering had driven to a crescendo, and Adam found himself sliding from the slick leather of the car. He collapsed on the ground, none of his muscles responding to his commands. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t tear his gaze away from two emerald eyes that pierced the darkness and his soul with equal intensity.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A metallic chime broke the air. Adam didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see. He knew what he would find.
The chime sounded again. Adam could feel the cold stone underneath him quiver in hungry anticipation. Thin ropes bit into his hands and his feet, hurting him. The burns on his legs throbbed painfully.
The chime sounded a third time. There was light behind his closed eyes, Adam could tell. There was something out there, in the darkness. It was an island, like he was, surrounded by vile lapping waters seeking to tear it down. The waves surged to new heights, bringing up untold terror from their fath
omless depths.
The chime sounded a fourth time. Adam opened his eyes.
Hooded figures stood in a loose circle around a low stone altar. It was familiar to Adam, a thing of his darkest nightmares. In between them he glimpsed a female form, clad in white silk, nearly bare upon the cold stone. Adam tried to call out, but the gag suffocated his cries.
“Arise O gods of the Abyss! Come forth this night and take delight in sacred congress.” Adam knew the confident, rich baritone that was speaking.
“Prometheus! Light Bearer! God of the sacred flame. You who defied the throne of heaven and brought forbidden knowledge to man, I summon thee! And I bid thee welcome.” Adam knew that voice as well. Feminine, high-pitched, and thoughtlessly arrogant. Somewhere in the darkness beyond the figures, a gong sounded.
“Loki! Frost Giant! You who stood alone, refusing to kneel before the son of the All Father. Proud son of Laufee, I summon thee! And I bid thee welcome.” The words were formed by no man or woman, but from the throat of a carrion bird.
“Belial, Twin Kings of the North! Come now in your Chariot. Great bestower of riches and title, I summon thee! And I bid thee welcome.” Adam felt each word as a slap on the cheek.
“O Great and Powerful Prince! King of the East! The Morning Star! Defiler of all Heaven, and Ruler of the Earth. You who despise the weak and give courage to the strong, I summon thee! AVE SATANAS! Arise! Arise! Arise!”
A chill crept over Adam, and he trembled against his binds. That last was the same rich baritone which he had heard many times. They were the only words to grip his heart with fear, his was the only conjuration that sent burning ice running through Adam’s veins.
“Zazas, zazas, natsatanada zazas. Open wide the Gates! Choronozon, demon of the abyss, keeper of all forbidden knowledge, come forth into this hand. Bring forth your seething basilisk, your thorny phallus. Accept this offering which I lay out before you. Take from us that which is refuse, render unto us that which is divine. Receive this soul and take form through the sacred union of your blood!” The hooded figure which was speaking brandished a knife in his hand wickedly, rising it with each breath. The air around him shimmered and twisted while the chorus of shadows reverberated the words with greater malice, power, and unnatural vim.
“Sic deum transit! Fiat. Sic scelus imperium cedit! Fiat. Sic terra nova resurgit! Fiat.”
Adam screamed, trying to drown out the sound of the howling around him. The figure plunged downward, and the sickening sound of rent flesh pierced the air. The feminine figure on the altar didn’t move again, the pure white of her dress forever marred with sanguine horror.
One of the figures approached the altar, throwing off the desiccated corpse. Rough hands grabbed Adam, forcing him down against the warm, wet stone.
“No!” He screamed. “No!”
Hoods whipped toward one another, questioning in low, vile whispers. After a moment it was evident they had decided to proceed, cutting loose the bonds which constricted him.
Adam felt the slick ichor sliding beneath him. Uncaring hands clawed at his slacks, ripping down the zipper, and pulling him out.
One of the figures moved forward, dropping the voluminous black robes from her shoulders. Emerald eyes bored into Adam as she climbed on top of him.
The figures around him began chanting an eerie chorus, to which the shadows added as they twisted and writhed in erotic and terrible joining.
“AGIOS O SATANAS AGIOS O BAPHOMET!”
Adam felt the blood rushing to his groin despite himself, as the air cracked and split around him. He felt himself growing weaker and weaker with every motion of her hand around him. The chant grew louder, more barbarous, the disembodied voices hissing in time.
Lily De La Poer lowered herself slowly over Adam, hesitating as the chorus grew sharper and more fierce. Adam’s cock twitched in the cold, still subterranean air in spite of the revulsion he felt stirring within his stomach. There was something wrong with it. Every passing moment the engorging prick drew more and more of his mind, his conscious thought away with it. Adam felt as though he was losing himself to it.
“Vulture!” Adam thundered. Striking out with the last of his strength, he managed to catch her awkwardly across the neck. She tumbled off of him to the smooth stone below.
The chanting stopped. The shadows waited with evil intent.
Strong hands hauled Adam roughly to his feet.
“What happened?” A soft, feminine voice asked. “He should be ours.”
“That bitch. That bitch!” A deep, masculine voice cursed. All were silent for a moment, in thought. “We have some time, yet, until the sun rises. Lock him upstairs. I’ll find a way to undo this.”
Adam felt himself being shoved forward. He was herded by a tight circle of formless black robes, pale hands stretching forth to push and prod him as they directed.
They threw him in a small, cinderblock room. It was some kind of a closet by the feel of it.
“I love you.” Susan had murmured in his ear. The first time she’d said it, it wasn’t special. She didn’t plan it. They were at a grocery store, in the middle of an isle. Adam had asked her if there was really a difference between the store brand and her favorite brand of tea. His world had come crashing to a halt then, destroying itself and reforming; at its core stood one woman, standing awkwardly between hot chocolate displays.
Adam found a pipe, for water or sewage, stretched across the top of his prison.
He had asked her to marry him twice. He hadn’t had a ring the first time, hadn’t even had a plan. He ha told her he was going to start his own business. He was going to take what little savings they had and quit his job. Adam had expected her to fight him. He might have even secretly hoped she would. She hadn’t. Susan had stayed up the whole night with him, asking him questions and dreaming with him of his future success.
Adam stripped off the tuxedo pants, confident hands tying them in the pitch darkness.
The second time he had asked her to marry him she had said yes. It had been their anniversary. Adam had been able to secret away enough money from them to buy a dinky little ring. He’d felt so ashamed. He had called her from a friend’s house and said that he couldn’t make it to the day they had planned; that she should hang out with a friend instead. Then, while she and the friend had been taking photographs in the park, he had ambushed her. He had prepared small picnic with his own terrible cooking. He had told her it was to celebrate their anniversary.
Adam threw the rich tuxedo cloth over the pipe. He tested its strength with a satisfied pull.
He had surprised her with champagne, secretly smuggled away from the store under his jacket. Then, as the sun set, he had asked if they shouldn’t pose for some pictures. There, under the immortal gaze of the camera lens, Adam had done it right. He had gotten down on one knee and asked her to be with him forever.
Adam pulled himself up by the pipe, strained muscles screaming at the heavy exertion.
He had betrayed her. Lied to her. Even stolen from her, he admitted finally. He had preyed upon her good nature and used it to feed his ego and his insolence. He had done terrible things before he met her, and his dark deeds had only grown darker in her absence. But he had loved her, selfishly and destructively, like he loved everything.
With a single practiced motion, as though he had been preparing for it for years, Adam knotted his makeshift rope around his neck, and let go of the pipe. He kicked, struggling for several moments, and was still.
Epilogue
The De La Poer family squinted in the gloom. Adam’s lifeless body hung just above them, and the smell of shit filled their nostrils.
Lily cursed. Esmeralda shrieked angrily into the darkness. Only Francis was calm. He reached out and caressed his son’s hand.
“Still warm.” He muttered, more to himself than those present.
“Lilith,” Francis’ voice carved through the silence like the blade of a knife. It was empty of any human emotion, as dark as a starles
s night.
“Father?” She asked, fear in her voice.
“So are you named. It is fitting. The mother of demons, monsters. And?” He gazed up at Adam’s body as it rocked gently.
“The first wife of Adam.” She finished for him.
Francis pressed into her hand a cold, black-handled dagger. She accepted it greedily.
“We have work yet to do, child, and time enough to do it.”
“Father?” She questioned again.
Francis smiled; a wicked, blasphemous thing.
“Take his balls.”
FINIS.
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About the Author
Sean Mannette is a native of North Carolina, where he currently resides. He pursued an early passion for scary stories, mythology, and creative writing which later matured into private study of the occult, western history, and literature. These influences show heavily in his writing. Sean began writing after an initial, and brief career in finance, the subject of his study at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.
SeanMannette.com
[email protected]
Heritage (The Slendervale Series Book 2) Page 21