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Robed in dark red, the high priest lifted the skean-dubh
in trembling hands. Under the knife was a young woman shortly before this black
moment delivered of her virginity to the glory of the dark gods.
“Darkness called thee.” The priest smiled down
into her eyes, then, in a shout said, “Thy god of the terrible night doth call
you home.”
Blank blue eyes stared up at the priest. The drugs she
used brought a smile and a sigh, while blood ran from her womanhood over the
‘stone. The eleven men and one lone woman that used her so badly watched and
waited for their lord to speak.
“I am that I am.” It was whispered into a still,
chilling night, her voice rough and with a male timber now. “I am twin brother
of the craven Jesus. I am Lucifer, the shining star and will take this child to
paradise this night.”
With a mutter of thanksgiving on his breath, the
priest lowered the knife for the third time in the ceremony and let it bury
itself in the woman’s chest.
This part always made him pause. Savoring the moment,
Tommy Drobnicki smiled as the knife fed on her life force with a greed even Leda
Melancowski could never match.
Only a moment before her life was gone, the woman was
wrenched out of her sweet daze to shriek.
“It hurts, it hurts. Please, Tommy, help me.”
She ripped at her bonds, but the leather was too
strong. The last victim had not been quite so small, and his skin made the best
of parchments, the skin of the arms tough and resilient.
Shuddering, she opened her mouth. Something small and
black oozed from it.
Her mouth moved again. The master laughed, and the
black thing was swept away, freed to wander the valley. Still in the woman, the
Owl stared with her eyes.
“Open the grave of Carl Ivanovitch, and release my
bonded slave to hunt mine prey, Benny Wya Grey-wolf. Aye, and let his mother see
this corpse of her dead husband.”
The black mar whispered, sinking into the earth.
Tommy’s head went back in a very unpriestly howl of
laughter. As the hood fell away, the rest shivered at the sight of thin, white
scars made by Anna Grey’s knife.
The woman on the altar gave one last sigh. The body
shuddered, a small protest. Her spirit was sucked back into her body. Tormenters
came questing from the ground. The woman was to remain imprisoned till the last
Day of the Dead when the dead are raised to Judgement. Instead, Tommy saw the
tormenters seek it, driving needle claws through the woman and ripping the
spirit from the body.
Only then Tommy gestured at the coven. The master
seemed finished for now, at least with this. Knives flashed, the people taken
the flesh.
A hundred yards away on a small rise, the earth moved
under the headstone marked CARL IGNATIUS
IVANOVITCH, loving husband and father.
With a shriek of horror and pain, Carl’s spirit was
dragged out of the torment of Shambala, hell, and shoved back into the body. The
steel casket groaned, then burst open, the cheap concrete vault shattering.
The reek of burned flesh and death drifted on the
frosty night. Grass in the vicinity of the grave scorched and burned to ash. A
small rose bush gave a thin flick of black flames before crumbling to dust.
Carl was torn from the grave to sprawl on the muddy
earth. For a few minutes he lay shuddering with the heat and pain of torment
before he set blindly off to the south. Animals stopped to look. They fled the
rabbit with the fox and the deer with the hound. Bears roared in their winter
sleep only to break free and flee. Plants near Carl recoiled in horror only to
die.
Benny . . . He had to find and kill the kid. It was
Benny’s fault he went to hell, the mocking laughter of the tormenters
whispered. Kill Benny. Then the dark god would let him escape the black fires of
Hell.
Reluctant to live, reluctant to die. Kat sighed, one
finger stroking the soft black hair of Benny’s eyebrow. Stern cleared his
throat. He pushed the door open, and as he did Kat resumed a more professional
stance near the bed.
A team of aides pushed a gurney into the room on
silent feet. Only one wore shoes, and that was the oldest of the brothers.
Kat moved back. The brothers took Benny by the
shoulders and feet, lifted, and eased him onto the gurney.
Stern slid a few creds into the oldest one’s pocket.
The man scowled, reaching in, but Stern shook his head.
“Word is I’m to go work at the reeducation
camps.”
Scowling but afraid, the eldest coughed into his hand.
“Need this, you will. Ain’t no goodies there,
Doc.”
Giving the man a warm smile, Stern shrugged. “I
refused to offer the president incense.”
“Doc.” Kat gasped and began to weep.
“I won’t,” he said, his voice growing strong yet
remaining soft. “I can’t.”
“Israel –”
“Too late. They came to the house and took Myrna. So
. . . I volunteered,” he said, smiling. “We go together.” In an abrupt
move, he gestured at Benny. “You know where to go. Beat it before that
pinhead, Monte, returns.”
“Doc . . . “ The oldest brother choked and threw
his arms around Stern’s neck. “Man, jus’ a little piece o’ incense,
that’s all. We done it. Ever’body, they do it.”
Hugging the man, Stern’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“To each, his war. This is mine, bro. My grandfather died in a Warsaw ghetto.
I’ll die in a camp near a place called Hazleton, Pennsylvania. We fight not
against men, but spirits of darkness.”
They pulled apart and Stern said, “Spend those creds
well. Have a beer on me and get a good meal, each of you. Better you should take
it than some jackboot thug.”
His head jerked in the direction of the door, and the
gurney was pushed out. Nurses looked away, aides found other things to do. The
men went to the stairs, not the elevators. There were no cameras still working
in the stairs.
“’The way is long,’” Stern whispered,
“‘The road, it’s long, but my Jesus will light my way.’”
Kat raised one eyebrow, and he gave an embarrassed
cough into a trembling fist.
“Ah, kid,” he said, “He was a good Jewish boy, a
real success. What a prophet!”
She hid a smile. The door to the stairs groaned open,
and the elevator lights flashed a warning.
“Harvesters.” The elevator whispered it
again, then, in a normal tone, said, “Te
avis. Por favor, watch your step entering –” The stairwell doors shut
and, for the four men, the voice stilled.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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