The Chapel

by S. T. Boston

  Sensing their imminent doom, the remainder of the coven drove forward, as they did Mike aimed at the fifteen or so remaining bodies and discharged two rounds, leaving no more than a second between each shot. Two spent cartridges flew from the gun and three more went down before the second cartridge hit the floor. In the final second the group halted, caught between the gun and the flame, but it was too late, the tapestry dropped with a beautiful yet deadly display of dancing flames onto them burying them all under a sheet of fire, which simultaneously set the wooden pews ablaze.

  Tara watched as fire engulfed the group, and as the blaze drank them in, the screams of those beneath began. From the edge of the downed tapestry, one of the group managed to break free. The burning figure ran like a flaming dervish toward them, she couldn’t tell if they were male or female, but they made it no more than ten steps before the flames overcame them and they fell to the floor, twitching and writhing.

  “Ellie and Henry,” Mike shouted, snapping her out of the moment’s transfixion on the scene of horror.

  They rushed forward together, the heat inside the room was suffocating, it mixed with smoke that stung her throat, burned her lungs and made her head spin. Mike struggled forward beside her, his limp now more pronounced and she could read the pain on his face from each step he took.

  “Device,” she heard June shout as they reached Ellie, and beside where June lay Tara saw the shadows begin to form.

  June watched the shadows take shape, like a swarm of intelligently controlled miniature bugs, each no bigger than a microbe of dust they span until they formed the shape of a man. Tara and Mike had reached the girl and as they began to cut the ropes June grabbed the half-full bottle of potion from the floor and struggled to her feet. Amulet in one hand, bottle in the other she faced it down.

  “Jam tibi impero et praecipio maligne spiritus!” she chanted, then stepping toward it she repeated in English, “I command and charge you, O evil spirit!,” and as she uttered the words the shadows came for her, seized her up and lifted her into the smoke-filled air as if she were no more than a ragdoll. “Qui immunda est - He who is unclean," June continued, the amulet held before her. She glanced down, Mike had the boy, the girl was free of the restraints and with an arm around Tara's shoulder, they were making toward the steps which led to the door and away from the fire.

  “Qui hoc non habet locum in terra - He who has no place on this Earth.” She thrust the amulet into the thing’s body, a body that still had no solidity and yet could lift her with ease. As her hand plunged into its unearthly form, she felt it burn the flesh, searing her fingers and the back of her hand. “Unde veni et mittam te abyssum irent - I send you back to the Abyss from whence you came.” And with her final words, she thrust the hand containing the bottle forward gripping it in her fist until it broke, spilling the contents over her burning fingers and through the thing’s shadows.

  Ellie’s head swam with confusion and fear. Just as she’d anticipated the blade of the dagger and a pain worse than she could imagine something happened, something went wrong. Her head was fixed in place, looking at the beams of the roof so she’d been unable to see exactly what, but she’d heard the sound of a gun followed by a WHHOOMMPPHHH, as something somewhere in the room caught fire. Things had happened fast then and she’d soon been certain that this wasn’t part of the ceremony. The whole thing played out in no more than a minute or two but laid bound to the altar and unable to do anything but listen to the screams and the shots going off around her, it had seemed much longer.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” a female voice said, just as Ellie felt certain that whilst she and her brother had escaped the horror of the ceremony, they’d now burn to death instead.

  As she watched the relentless flames dancing across the beams of the roof, she felt hands working to free her. “My brother,” she rasped, the stifling air scorching her windpipe with every struggled breath.

  “Mike has him,” the voice said. Who Mike was she had no clue, but these people were obviously here to help so that was fine by her. Suddenly Ellie felt the straps holding her head come free and she was being pulled to a sitting position where she finally saw who’d spoken. She recognised who it was immediately. Despite the bruised and swollen cheek and the skin of the woman’s face that had been reddened by the heat, she recognised Tara Gibb, or Tig as they called her on the Unexplained UK show. Ellie’s head was too far gone with the trauma of the night to even process how it was possible, why Tig was here setting her free and dressed in the same black robes as all the others. She felt Tara place her arm around her back, supporting her under the arm and lifting down off the altar.

  “It’s time to go,” Tara said urgently.

  Almost unable to breathe Mike reached the stairs, he had Henry Harrison over his shoulder and the gun in his other hand. Tara was in front, supporting Ellie and helping her up the steps and toward the door. Mike looked and saw with horror that the thing of shadows had June, she was a good ten feet in the air and at the mercy of its grip. Words formed on her lips yet under the roar of the fire they were lost to him. He saw her thrust the bottle into the thing’s body, causing it to scream, but it wasn’t just one scream, it was the scream of many and they reached a crescendo that drowned out the roar of the blaze. As those screams filled the room the shadows that made it churned in turmoil, it lost its human form and she crashed back to the floor, landing in a painful crumpled heap at the foot of the sacrificial altar, the one that not a minute ago held Ellie Harrison. Above her broken body the thing that had once been Device span like water going down a plughole and as the last of its impossible form disappeared, the screaming finally stopped.

  June rolled onto her side, looked directly at Mike and smiled and he knew that she meant for him to leave her there. Before he could decide either way the sound of cracking and breaking came from the roof, Mike looked up in time to see a section of the mid-beam break away, taking with it a chunk of the stone above and the massive iron chandelier. The whole lot crashed down in a hail of sparks burying June beneath and killing her instantly. I have a part to play in this, she’d said to him, and she’d been right. She’d known she had to come, and he wondered if she’d known it would be a one-way ticket.

  Mike could feel blood running down his injured leg now, he knew the wound was open and every step was agony, yet with Henry Harrison over his shoulder and with the sight of Tara and Ellie in front he found new vigour.

  “The roof is coming down,” he called to Tara. “We need to move.”

  “June,” she said with dismay, looking back.

  Mike didn’t speak. Tara had not witnessed her death and right now there was no time to explain, instead, he just shook his head slowly, and he saw tears begin to run down her dirty face.

  Broken, burned but somehow still alive they reached the stairs that led back to the utility cupboard in The Old Chapel. Tara went first, still supporting Ellie who was struggling to walk on feet that were battered and cut from whatever had happened to her in the forest. Smoke from the blaze crept along the roof of the passage and chimneyed up the spiral stairs making it hard to breathe. Finally reaching the top, coughing and gasping for air, she pushed Ellie through and into the kitchen before Mike stumbled through with the still sleeping body of Henry over his shoulder.

  He wanted to rest, he wanted to lay down on the tiles and just take five to get himself together, but outside he could see more fire raging in the forest, and above the blackening trees the electrical storm still raged, strobing the sky in flash after flash of brilliant white light, yet no rain fell.

  “Mike, the forest,” Tara said, and as she spoke, below their feet the ground gave a tremor.

  "The – storm, there – must – have been – a lightning strike," he panted. "We, we need to – get to the – the cars." The smoke pouring up the hidden stairwell in the utility cupboard and continued to flood the kitchen and before long the air would be toxic to breath, with the hatch broken there was no way to close it a
nd stop the smoke. Mike slammed the cupboard door shut, it helped but smoke still poured out from under the door. Move, Mike thought to himself, you need to get moving or all this will have been for nothing.

  “Just a little further,” Tara said to Ellie, who nodded and looked at Mike with petrified eyes.

  “He won’t wake up,” she said to Mike. “I tried but they have done something to him.”

  “We need to worry about that later,” Mike replied, already feeling the fast building toxic smoke choke his lungs. The ground shook again, stronger this time and Mike knew that with the roof to the chapel below them collapsing that soon the whole place might come down. He put the Beretta on the side and span all six of the gas burners on the range cooker to maximum flow, before collecting the gun back up.

  “What are you doing?” Tara cried.

  “This place ends tonight, once and for all,” he said firmly and hobbled toward the central passage and the lobby, where propped against the front doors, battered and bruised they found Seth Horner, a knife in his hand. On seeing the four of them his face twisted with rage and he staggered forward, the blade slashing the air in front of him.

  “Nooooo,” he screeched. Mike still had the Beretta in his left hand, there was just one cartridge left in the chamber. As Seth struggled inanely toward them, he raised the gun and with a one-handed grip pulled the trigger. Without the stock resting on his shoulder the recoil kicked hard and cast the A400 from his hand, but not before the buckshot hit Seth Horner square in the chest, it jarred his body back with a whack that sent him to the floor where he fell upon Jason’s dead body.

  “You told me earlier,” Mike said with disgust, “that only in death are we truly free.” Seth Horner looked at him, his face battered, his body broken, and his breath coming in rattling rasps. “I guess you’re going to find out.” Mike didn’t bother picking the gun up, as the ground tremored again, he threw the door open and went outside.

  There on the shingle forecourt in the glow of the encroaching fire stood Mike’s Jeep, Scotty’s T4, June’s Yaris and behind the VW was an Audi that Mike guessed belonged to Jason. Smoke hung on the air, but compared to how it had been below ground and in the kitchen, it was still much easier to breathe.

  “Key’s,” Mike said helplessly patting the sides of his robe. “We don’t have any fucking keys, they are inside.” He looked back at The Old Chapel with frustration, it sat against the glow of the forest fire and seemed to shimmer in the heat. “I’m going to have to go back in.” He went to set Henry on the ground but as he bent there was a deep rumble from the ground and the bell tower at the back of the building gave way and came crashing to the ground. As the decommissioned bell hit the deck it sounded out what would most certainly be its last monotone BONNGGGG.

  Tara grabbed his arm, “Jason’s car,” she said and Mike saw that the driver’s door sat ajar, meaning that if he’d not closed it in his eagerness to get to them, then he might just have left the keys in the ignition, or the electronic fob thingy inside, whichever it used.

  Mike reached the Audi, the door was partially open and sure enough, in his haste to begin his murderous rampage good old Jason, who by some twist of fate had brought them the gun, had also left them their means of escape, for in the centre console sat a keyless ignition fob. Mike opened the back door and lay Henry across the rear seat, Ellie climbed in after him and cradled his head on her lap, tears streaking her reddened face.

  “Can you drive?” Tara asked as Mike dropped into the driver’s seat, just taking the weight off his leg felt like bliss. She cleared the newspaper showing the article that had led Jason here off the seat and into the footwell before getting in herself.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied as he set his right leg on the brake and hit the ignition button, the car started instantly. Mike knocked the auto-shifter to drive and launched them forward in a hail of shingle that spat up from the rear tyres.

  Ellie Harrison watched The Old Chapel sink away through the rear window. In her lap she cradled her brother's head, stroking his blonde hair affectionately and still not quite able to believe she was one, alive and two, free. The car reached the road and swung right. Behind her the night was aglow with the oranges and reds of the fire, the lightning that still flashed across the sky silhouetted the cloud of smoke that hung above the trees giving it the appearance of some great beast, maybe a dragon that lay over the village, one intent on smoting it until all that remained was ash.

  “The whole village is burning,” Tara said in amazement, and then as if on cue an explosion bloomed from where The Old Chapel had been. A great ball of fire spawned into the air, it reached high over the burning trees and into the smoke-stained sky above. Even from the road they felt the ground tremor as the below that had been the dark, hidden secret of Trellen collapsed and swallowed the building. As the ground shook, no one spoke. Each knew with their own quiet satisfaction what had happened, and each knew that this time there would be no rebuilding, The Old Chapel was gone.

  From the backseat Ellie felt the strong acceleration of the Audi, Mike redlining every gear before he clicked the paddle-shifter on the steering wheel. Near to the edge of the village the headlights briefly illuminated the now dishevelled roadside shrine that marked the very spot where Karl Banks had met the tipper some two years ago, then it was gone, swallowed up by the amber glow of the burning night. As they sped past the sign that read ‘Trellen Thanks You For Driving Carefully’, Ellie felt Henry move his head, she looked down and slowly his eyes flicked open.

  “Hen,” she cried out. “He’s awake.”

  Ellie saw his eyes looking at her with puzzlement and for a terrible second, she thought that he may have no memory of her.

  “Ells?” he said sleepily. “Is it time to go to the beach yet?”

  The beach? She thought, and then she remembered that they'd been due to go to Charlestown, and how excited he'd been about it. Henry had been asleep through the entire ordeal and to him no more than a regular night had passed.

  “I think so, Kiddo,” she sobbed, leaning down and kissing him on his dirt-smeared forehead, her tears now ones of joy and relief. “I’ll even buy you an ice-cream.”

  Part 5

  After

  Chapter 55

  Mike awoke to the smell of disinfectant and the steady beep of medical apparatus. The blinds in the private room were drawn, yet two intense shafts of deep light lanced through the dimly lit room thanks to a couple of slats that were slightly askew. They picked up otherwise invisible dust motes that span and swirled it the deep light until they passed into shade and out of view.

  Stood at the foot of his bed, dressed in grey trousers and a light blue short-sleeve shirt, collar open and wearing no tie was Mark Samuels. In his left hand, he clutched a notebook and pen, the kind of notebook Mike used to take everywhere with him when he'd been on the force.

  “What – where,” Mike croaked in confusion from his dry mouth and through dry lips. The last thing he could clearly remember had been the massive bloom of fire raising into the sky as they’d fled the village.

  “Relax,” Samuel said. “You’re in Derriford Hospital. You’ve got a gunshot wound to the leg, you’re suffering from smoke inhalation and you have some third-degree burns, nothing too serious. Plus, a mild concussion from the accident.”

  Mike tried to prop himself up in the bed, but his battered body ached and protested too much. “Accident?” he questioned, suddenly feeling panicked.

  “The Audi A4 you were driving, a car registered to a Jason Paxman from Blandford, Dorset, crashed around eight miles north of Trellen, on the Bodmin road. The ANC system on the vehicle, that's the clever bit of kit that detects an accident, automatically informed the police and ambulance when the car went off the road and into the hedge."

  Despite the pain, Mike did prop himself up now, "The others," he said. "Tara, Ellie, and Henry?"

  Samuels smiled, rounded the bed and placed a hand on the shoulder of his old colleague, “Mike,
relax. It wasn’t a bad accident, Tara thinks you passed out, maybe from blood loss, or just plain exhaustion. The vehicle was only travelling around twenty miles an hour, you were approaching a junction, you went right across it and into a hedge. The airbag on the driver’s side failed and you took a blow to the head on the steering wheel.”

  “They’re all okay?” Mike said, the moment of panic still prickling his skin.

  Samuels removed his hand and stood back, “They’re fine. In hospital, not from the accident I add, you were the only one injured. Tara has some third-degree burns, minor smoke inhalation, the same for Ellie and her brother.”

  “Oh, thank god,” he sighed and allowed his aching muscles to relax into the bed a little. “What day is it?”

  “It’s a little after six on Saturday evening July 28th,” Samuels replied, taking an automatic glance at the Casio on his wrist. “They’ve fixed your leg up, dressed your burns and given you a bit of blood.” He paused and pulled the visitor chair over. It was mint green with a high comfortable back and furnished in a wipeable PVC type material. The legs scraped over the composite tile floor with a bone-chilling screech as he dragged it. “What happened, Mike?” he asked seriously as he sat. “How the fuck did you find those kids?” Then before Mike could speak, he added, “The entire village of Trellen is gone, Mike. The fire took it all, buildings the lot. Some sort of sinkhole opened up where The Old Chapel stood, they think there must have been an old forgotten mine shaft or undergrown cavern down there. It seemed the fire caused a gas explosion in the building, that in turn fractured whatever was below it. Fire crews have been out there since someone in Culdon raised the alarm at around two on Friday morning. The forest fire is under control and all but out now, but there is no sign that anyone got out of the village other than the four of you. The whole thing is all over the news, Mike. It’s a media shit storm and no one, not even the police have an answer as to how the fuck you not only got out but got out with two persons that were the victims in a murder investigation.” He rubbed his forehead with the hand that didn’t hold the notebook and then concluded, “I tried to talk to Tara while you were out, but she said I needed to talk to you. That it wasn’t just for her to tell.”