by Linn Chapel
The Devil’s Dance.
“We’re in the right place,” she whispered to Albert. Leading the way, she entered the grove of trees. The loamy ground muffled their footsteps as they passed between the gray and ghostly trunks.
Soon they had arrived at the far edge of the wood. Beyond the last few trees, moonlight shone down upon a steep, grassy slope.
As Tressa slowed her pace, an uneasy ripple of awareness ran through her. Something up ahead was causing an atmosphere of danger that wasn’t physical. Alarmed, she wondered why Margot had chosen this spot.
Moving silently, she took cover behind a tree. Albert did the same. Pulling the hood of her black sweatshirt closer about her head, Tressa cautiously peered around the edge of the trunk.
At the summit of the hill stood a circle of standing stones, the same stones she had glimpsed earlier through Margot’s intentions. Tonight, moonlight traced out the stark white faces of the stones and cast fathomless black shadows at their feet.
In the center of the circle, she could just make out a group of figures standing close together. Luke! she cried inwardly. If only she could rush forward and help him.
Then the moon suddenly disappeared behind the clouds and a stiff wind surged against the edge of the woods, tossing the branches overhead.
In the sudden darkness, Tressa’s awareness of an abnormal atmosphere became so strong that her hair nearly stood on end. The barrier between the occult plane and the Earthly Realm had become very thin near the stone circle, she realized.
Leaning closer to Albert, she whispered her fears.
“What does it mean?” he hissed back in an undertone. “What could have caused it?”
“I don’t know.” She gazed worriedly up at the summit of the hill. If she approached the circle, her presence could be easily noted by a dark spirit passing through the occult region just on the other side of the thin spot.
As for Luke, he was in the very thick of the paranormal danger. Tressa winced, unable to help him.
Peter’s reaction to occult effects was so keen that he must be feeling very nauseous and frustrated right now. He’d have to stay behind in the trees while Holt went on alone in the dark.
She scanned the hilltop with its shadowed stones, searching for any sign of Holt, but her efforts were in vain. He knew how to hide himself too well.
Forming a psychic link with Holt was far too risky, for it would only slow him down. Still desperate for some reassurance, Tressa closed her eyes and sent forth her psychic ability to read intentions.
The effort to focus was more challenging than ever. Her mind moved past Albert’s intentions – a hovering wedge close at hand – and struggled onward despite the occult atmosphere that was making her inner vision ripple unsteadily. But she persisted, and finally two blurry shapes came into view up ahead in the void, with several more in the distance.
As she quested even closer, she could see that one of the shapes was a funnel that was spinning quickly, like a whirling tornado. She focused on it and absorbed the intentions within.
I’ve found Holt’s intentions. His plans involve Peter, after all. When the time is right, they will try to attack the others one by one.
Her eyes flew open again. Obviously, Peter had not stayed behind in the trees. As for the risks they were both taking – she shivered with apprehension.
Tressa leaned over to whisper the news to Albert.
“At least they have the rifle,” he murmured worriedly.
Just then, the moon emerged from behind the clouds to illuminate the stone circle. The white faces and black shadows seemed to stand like a strange and deadly chessboard at the summit of the hill.
In the center of the circle stood Luke, with his captors ranged against him. A voice rose above the wind, giving orders. Margot’s voice.
Tressa closed her eyes and quested for intentions again, repeating the difficult task as quickly as she could. She moved past the funnel that held Holt’s intentions and skirted the sphere which floated nearby, for that had to hold Peter’s intentions. Her mind moved onward toward a cluster of shapes in the distance. When she spotted a Gordian knot, she focused all her efforts on reaching it. Straining, Tressa absorbed its contents.
She’d found Margot’s intentions again. Her plans centered upon the two protégés at her side.
She’s conditioning them to kill with their hands and ignore their old instincts for blood. She intends to finish their training tonight – and eliminate Luke at the same time.
Tressa’s eyes flew open again in dismay. “Albert,” she whispered hoarsely. “I found Margot’s intentions. She’s managed to create a pair of half-turned vampires.” She quickly explained.
“Holt and Peter will never be able to save Luke,” choked Albert in response. “They’ll all be killed.”
Tressa whispered back, “If only we could do something to help!”
Then the streaming clouds swept over the moon and everything went dark.
But it wasn’t long before the cold, merciless light of the moon filtered through the clouds again and in the growing brightness, Tressa caught sight of two figures swiftly darting between the stones. Holt and Peter!
They hid themselves quickly in the shadowy region behind a tall stone, but it was already too late. Margot’s voice changed and the training ceased. Harsh and urgent orders were issued.
The moonlight dimmed and then brightened, illuminating the scene again. Tressa’s heart lurched in fear, for now there were only three figures remaining in the center of the circle. One of the altered vampires was missing.
Margot shouted out another urgent order as she ran from the center of the circle to disappear behind a massive stone. The second changeling also left the center and slipped behind one of the standing stones.
Only Luke remained in the middle of the circle, motionless and seemingly forgotten.
Tressa’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the summit of the hillside where shadowy figures were running from stone to stone around the perimeter, hiding behind the monoliths and then darting out again. She had no idea which of the shadows were Holt and Peter and which were their enemies.
Then a deep darkness fell over the land as the moon was covered by a thick band of clouds. Albert’s voice spoke up urgently, close to her ear. “Tressa! There’s something wrong with Luke or he’d have run away by now. I’m going to lead him from the circle.”
Tressa turned to him in the dark, filled with concern.
Albert went on. “I’m not handicapped by that occult business, like you. I’ll take my chances.”
Tressa heard a rustle in the underbrush as he left, but it was too dark for her to see him running up the hill.
An eerie quiet had come with the thickening clouds, for the leaves had stopped tossing overhead. Then the moon emerged from the ragged edge of the clouds and the stone circle once again became a black-and-white chessboard at the top of the hillside. It was then that Tressa spotted the silhouettes of three figures near the stark white face of a standing stone. They were facing each other, at a standstill.
One of them was Holt, she could see. But where was the rifle? His hands were empty.
The two other figures were ranged against him. One was a tall, lean accomplice. The other was Margot, and she was aiming a gun at Holt.
The light dimmed as more clouds passed over the moon and Tressa could see only the dim, hulking shapes of the stones.
In the darkness, a single gunshot rang out.
Tressa brought her fist up to her mouth and bit down on the knuckles to keep herself from screaming.
Peter stood with his back pressed against a cold stone slab. His head was aching from the effort needed to counteract the weakness and nausea he’d been feeling.
At least the elimination of the first accomplice had gone without a hitch. Peter had been able to provide a distraction by appearing in plain view with the rifle in his arms. Meanwhile, Holt had snuck up from behind one of the altered vampires and used t
he neck pinch. The unconscious body still lay in the shadows near the perimeter of the circle.
But now that the moonlight had disappeared, another visual distraction wouldn’t work on the second accomplice. The rifle would have to be fired.
He lifted the weapon and aimed at one of the standing stones. He was just about to pull the trigger when he heard the crack of gunshot from another weapon.
A woman’s voice cried out in anger and then metal clattered against stone.
Peter left his hiding place and searched for Holt, filled with trepidation. The moonlight began to filter through the clouds, brightening the scene, and he spotted Margot ahead of him, kneeling, scrabbling on the ground, searching for something. Peter raised the rifle and paused, reluctant to wound her fatally. He’d shoot at her legs and disable her the moment she stood.
But before that could happen, the rifle was wrenched out of his hands. It hit the turf with a thud and Peter’s arms were captured and roughly forced behind his back.
His captor’s grip was vice-like and unbreakable. Harsh breathing rasped in Peter’s ear.
Straining helplessly, Peter stilled when an agile shadow swept around the edge of the nearest stone.
Holt.
Margot rose swiftly to her feet as he approached her, abandoning her search for the gun. She called out to her accomplice but her words became garbled when Holt jammed a hand inside the sleeve of his jacket and wiped it across Margot’s face.
He swung her around in the moonlight and a dark smear showed on her skin. The iron hands that were holding Peter’s arms captive suddenly jerked.
Holt gave Margot a shove. As she stumbled forward, he disappeared into the shadows. Margot shouted out a shrill command, and then another, but it was too late.
Peter’s arms were released and an instant later, the vampire protégé was circling Margot.
She cried out more commands to her accomplice but his aggressive instincts had been stimulated beyond control. Peter winced as the predator grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her so that her head snapped back, exposing her throat. Margot got out a short scream, and then all was quiet.
It wasn’t long before her assailant released her body. It crumpled to the ground where it lay unmoving on the grass. Peter was sure that Margot was still alive, for the episode had been brief, but with any luck she’d be out of action for some time.
Peter hid himself in the inky shadows behind a stone slab. A moment later, Holt joined him. As they were eyeing the lone predator that stood over Margot’s body, the other accomplice suddenly appeared. He had recovered consciousness and was now lurching across the open ground.
Peter’s hands tightened on the rifle. He hoped that bullets would work.
But there was no need for Peter to take action, for the newcomer found his balance and swiftly darted toward his counterpart. A savage fight broke out between the pair.
“We’ll search for Luke while they’re busy,” whispered Holt.
He left the shadows and Peter followed him from stone to stone around the perimeter of the circle. Not far away, the two combatants snarled and fought over a plastic bag that one of them had taken from Margot’s prone body. Apparently, the contents were of even more interest than Margot herself.
A hair-raising growl of annoyance emerged from one of the combatants, causing Holt and Peter to freeze in the shadows. The plastic bag was ripped open and hands flashed, reaching for the white bottles within. The fighting ceased as the bottles were pried open and some of the contents were shaken out and swallowed.
Then two soundless shadows left the stone circle and disappeared into the night, traveling in separate directions.
Relief swept over Peter. And for some reason, his nausea had lessened. Even his strength was returning. Confused, he wondered what had happened to the occult atmosphere.
“Wherever Luke is now, he must be with someone else. Most likely it’s Albert,” said Holt shortly. “I just found two sets of tracks leaving the circle, and they were of a similar size. The two of them can’t be far away.”
“Albert? He must have followed us here!” exclaimed Peter.
“Yes, and I’m sure he wasn’t alone,” added Holt in a tight voice. “Come, Peter.”
Together they ran down the hillside and entered the footpath that wound through the trees. They hadn’t gone far before a slender figure moved forward to meet them, passing through the dappled patches of pale moonlight. It was Tressa.
Holt swore under his breath and ran forward to pull her into his arms. Peter could hear him lecturing Tressa in a fierce undertone. She murmured something back, but Holt interrupted her to resume his stern monologue.
Worriedly, Peter scanned the shadows between the trees, looking for Luke and Albert. His fearfulness increased when he felt his nausea return even though he was nowhere near the center of the stone circle.
Twigs snapped and branches rustled in the underbrush. Albert appeared, supporting Luke’s shoulders and steering his friend with effort through the trees.
As the pair came closer, Peter’s stomach churned with more nausea. Then his vision blurred.
“Something’s wrong with Luke!” called out Albert.
Peter’s voice was so weak that he couldn’t even whisper the reason.
Tressa cried out, “Lay him down on the ground, Albert. Then join us over here.”
“But Tressa, we need to help him. He’s in some kind of trance!”
“I know,” she shot back. “But we need to keep our distance while we figure out what to do. Luke is under siege by a demon. If it’s a diabolus, it could act through Luke’s body and murder all of us.”
Albert obeyed, laying Luke down on the leaf-strewn forest floor near the roots of a large tree. Then he ran to join them.
“Brendan.” Peter’s voice finally emerged, hoarse but urgent. “Or Dad.”
“Too slow!” countered Tressa. “Where’s a match – or a flashlight?”
“No,” Peter groaned, alarmed.
“I have a matchbook in my pocket,” Albert said, confused. “I picked it up as a souvenir in Bath. Whatever you’re going to do with it, Tressa, please hurry.”
Before Peter could stop her, she had taken the offered matchbook. When she ran off into the trees, Peter knew that she was removing herself to a safe distance to protect the rest of them – in case a diabolus attacked her.
Peter’s thoughts spun around and around with a sense of futility. There was nothing he could do.
No – there was something.
He motioned for Holt and Albert to follow him through the trees. As Peter loped ahead of them along the path, some of his strength slowly returned and by the time he emerged on the other side of the woods he was able to think clearly.
He explained quickly the kind of help Tressa had in mind. As her plan became clear, Holt reacted explosively.
Albert grabbed Holt’s arm and spoke to him reassuringly. “She’s very skilled,” he said. “People are fooled by Tressa because she’s so quiet and she has no ambition. But when it comes to something like this – well, she’s a pro!”
Holt muttered, “If only there were some other way.”
Peter took a deep breath. “I’m going to enter the Unseen World myself and call for Brother Brendan and my father. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. I had a run-in with a diabolus when I was younger and it left me compromised.” He turned to Albert. “Do you have any more matches?”
Albert nodded and reached a hand into his pocket.
“Light one for me and hold it very still so that I can use it to make a doorway into the other world.”
Peter knelt on the ground and a match was struck in front of his face. The flame stood up from the paper matchstick in Albert’s fingers like a tiny beacon light.
As Peter focused on the small flame, he heard Albert whispering to Holt. “I’ll never get used to the way they can leave this world whenever they want, and walk around the spirit world with their eyes open.”
“How does he enter that world?” asked Holt from nearby.
“I think he steps through a doorway of brightness that he widens with his mind, or so he once told me. Just thinking about it makes me feel strange. I’m glad I never picked up any psychic ability from him.”
Holt remained silent.
By now, Peter’s need for the match had passed and he could do the rest on his own.
Once Tressa was safely away from the others, she sank to her knees on the damp soil near the roots of a giant beech tree. She lit a match and set it firmly in a mossy cleft between the roots so that the flame stood up, bright and steady.
She closed her eyes and the woodland with its dark trees and dappled moonlight disappeared. The tiny flame alone remained. Swiftly, she made it grow larger and larger, until it formed a bright, arching doorway.
She passed into the Unseen World where the fog drifted by her in soft, pale billows. Fearfully, she waded through the blanket of mist that covered the hidden ground, looking for any sign of Luke.
Up ahead, the mist was shadowed and very still. As she moved forward, she made the sign of the cross. “Ab hoste maligno...” From evil spirits...
She never finished the petition, for she was interrupted by another voice. It vibrated in the air of the Unseen World, stirring her with its familiar timbre.
“Tressa.”
She gasped and turned around to find that Holt’s spiritual body was standing a short distance away. His black hair and clothing were swathed in pale clouds of mist.
“Holt, how did you get here?” she called back, alarmed.
“I watched as Peter made his preparations, and then I tried the passage myself.”
“Peter! I don’t see him anywhere,” she said, peering about.
“I believe he’s busy elsewhere, calling for help.” Holt asked quickly, “Where is Luke?”
“I’m looking for him right now. But Holt, you must go back to the Earthly World! It’s too dangerous here – you don’t have any experience in traveling with your eyes open.”
“Tressa, you followed me to the stone circle,” he responded in a steely voice. “Now it’s my turn to follow you.” He strode forward through the mist.