Ok, since you all asked so nicely...
Be warned; it's a long one.
The Sacrifice
It was a bright, sunny day at St. Stephen’s Church of the Martyr. Spring had finally arrived, accompanied by the sound of children playing outdoors after being cooped up inside during the winter.
On this particular Sunday, the children were especially energetic as they came through the doors of the church. Sunday school had been more fun than normal, as one of the other children had celebrated his seventh birthday. There was, of course, plenty of cake and ice cream, punch, and balloons for everyone.
The parents waiting outside groaned good-naturedly as their kids ran around the steps in a sugar-induced fit of hyperactivity. The balloons bobbed in the air, dancing in time with the children’s play. Screams of delight mingled with laughter kept the parents from being too surly about the whole affair. After all, this was the first day the kids had a chance to play outside. So they stood about and chatted with each other, talking about the news, the weather, and anything else that came to mind.
“So, Amy, how has your little girl been feeling lately?” asked Mrs. Morris.
“Well, she’s still feeling a little under the weather,” Amy replied, “but she’s been able to keep her food down, so she’ll probably be back to normal in no time.”
“Isn’t it amazing how kids seem to bounce right back from these things? Stephen was the same way, but no time he was running around the house and driving me crazy,” said Mrs. Morris.
Amy laughed at that, and then looked at her watch. “Well, it’s almost noon, so I guess I need to round the little monster up and feed her some lunch. It’s been nice talking to you, Genni.” Amy turned around, but the children were nowhere to be seen.
She called out to one of the other parents. “Hey Nick? Did you see where the kids went?”
“Yeah, they ran around the corner just a few seconds ago,” he said, pointing.
“Ok. Thanks.”
Amy walked toward the corner of the building, trying to decide what to make for lunch. Soup or sandwiches? she thought. What the hell. I’ll make both. She needs to eat some real food, anyway…
She rounded the corner and stopped dead. The children were gathered in a circle. They were holding hands, and their heads were bowed. She moved a little closer, and thought she heard them muttering. How cute, she thought. They’re praying together. She was about to run and get the other parents when the children’s voices grew a little louder. Her amusement turned to unease when she heard what they were saying.
“From the darkness he rises,
The Lord of All and Nothing.
The Prince of Fire on blackened wings
Spreads his shadow across the earth.”
She couldn’t believe that the children would say something like this, and on church grounds! She walked quickly towards them, intent on breaking up their little gathering.
“That’s enough of that,” she said. “This isn’t the least bit funny, and I’ll be telling your parents about this.” She reached out and grabbed her daughter by the shoulder. “As for you, little miss,” she began.
She stumbled back in shock and horror as Ashley turned around. Her eyes had turned completely red, as had the other children’s. They began chanting louder, their voices flat and devoid of humanity.
She started screaming when the children began to weep blood.
3 Days Later.
Father O’Riley was sitting in the front pew of St. Stephen’s, deep in prayer, when he heard the door open. Turning around, he watched as a man and a woman entered and began walking down the aisle. The man was tall, wide-shouldered and narrow-waisted, which spoke of time spent exercising. The woman was slight, willowy even, and moved with a grace one associated with a ballet dancer.
He stood up as the pair approached him and said, “I’m Father Timothy O’Riley. How can I help you?”
The man held out his hand and replied “Father, I’m Thomas Summers. We spoke on the phone a few days ago.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Father Tim said, shaking hands. “And who is this?”
“My name is Rachel Lewis, Father. I’m a friend of Thomas’s and here at his request.”
Father Tim looked at Thomas, who said, “She’s Magi, Father, and may know more about this then you or I.” He looked around. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Yes. We’ll go to my office.”
A short walk later, they were seated in Father Tim’s office.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” said Father Tim.
“You were reluctant to tell me over the phone exactly what had happened. Why don’t you start there?’’ Thomas said.
“All right,” said Father Tim. “It was three days ago, Sunday school had just finished and the parents were waiting outside to pick their kids up. There had been a birthday party, and the children were somewhat wound up, so the parents decided to let them run some of the energy off while they talked.”
“Everything was all right up to that point,” he continued. “One of the parents, Amy Williams, decided to collect her daughter and take her home. She found them around the side of the building, and when she first spotted them, she thought they were praying.”
“What made her think that?” asked Rachel.
“They were standing in a circle, holding hands, and their heads were bowed. Amy heard them muttering, and thought they were praying quietly, so she didn’t disturb them right away. She was on the verge of telling the other parents about it when their voices grew louder, and she could understand what they were saying.”
“What were they saying?” Thomas asked.
“When Amy told me, I wrote it down, so as not to forget.” He opened a desk drawer, then handed Thomas a slip of paper.
Thomas read the paper, and then wordlessly handed it to Rachel, whose face went pale. They were silent for a moment, and then Rachel asked, “What else happened? There’s more, I take it?”
Father Tim nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid there is, and it’s the primary reason I called you. According to Amy, the children’s eyes were blood red. They started chanting louder, and began to weep blood. When she told me this, I knew that I was dealing with something out of the ordinary.”
When neither Thomas nor Rachel said anything, Father Tim asked, “What do you think happened here?”
Thomas exchanged a surreptitious glance with Rachel, then looked at Father Tim. “I’m not quite sure yet. Tell me, where are the children now? Has there been any repeats of them chanting or weeping blood?”
“They’re at the hospital right now. They’ve gone into a catatonic state, I’ve been told. There has been no chanting or bleeding since Sunday, thankfully.”
“Well Father, I think the next step is to look in on the kids and speak to the parents. Which reminds me, have you had any new parishioners lately? Within, say, the last six months?” Thomas asked.
“No, we haven’t,” replied Father Tim. “And nothing’s happened out of the ordinary.”
“I see.” said Thomas. The three of them rose from their chairs, and handshakes were exchanged. “Thank you for your time, Father. We’ll keep you posted on our progress.”
“Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Father, Rachel and I have been serving the church for over ten years as investigators,” Thomas began. “We have a great deal of experience in these matters, so please try not to worry. We’ll find the answer.” They exchange one more handshake, and then they left.
As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Thomas turned to Rachel and said, “Ok, you’ve had some time to mull it over. What do you think?”
“It sounds like a classic case of possession, but…”
“But what?”
“The chanting. It sounds like a prophecy, as if they were foretelling a future event.”
Thomas thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah, that bothered me too. The problem is, what were they foretelling?”
Rachel looked away for a moment, and then turned back. “I believe they were foretelling the coming of a demon. A powerful one from the sound of it.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that. So now what?”
“First, we examine the children, then we talk to the parents. After that, we’ll have to transmit the prophecy back to Rome and see what they come up with.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go,”
There was a little bit of trouble at the receptionist’s desk, but a call to Father Tim cleared it up and soon they found themselves in the children’s ward. They examined the children, and talked to the attending doctors, who were perplexed at the children’s condition. They were all healthy, other than recovering from a slight cold, with no symptoms of any illness that might explain their current state. The parents were equally baffled, and understandably frightened. Thomas and Rachel conferred about their findings.
“Well, that was informative,” said Thomas.
“At least we can rule out illness as the cause of the bleeding,” replied Rachel. She was silent for a moment, and then continued. “I think we’re missing something.”
"We’ve interviewed all the parents. What more can we do?”
“We haven’t talked to all of them Amy Williams. Her husband sent her home to get some sleep. He said that she’d been here since her daughter was first brought in. We need to talk to her.”
“What are we waiting for?”
They talked to Mr. Williams and received his reluctant permission to speak to his wife. Following his directions, they arrived in short order at their house. After knocking, they had to wait only a few short moments for the door to be opened. The woman who answered the door appeared to be in her early thirties, though the stress of recent events had temporarily aged her. She looked as though she had slept little, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying.
“Yes?” she said.
Rachel stepped forward. “Amy Williams? My name is Rachel Lewis, and this is my friend Thomas Summers. We’re here at the request of Father Tim and the church. May we speak to you?”
Amy seemed to hesitate, then nodded. “Yes. Please, come in.”
She led them into the living room, and when they all had been seated, Rachel said, “Ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions. Have you noticed any strangers hanging around outside your home, anyone who might have taken an interest in your daughter?”
“No. I haven’t seen anyone strange. I drive her to school, so as far as I know no one has been around. Please, is my daughter going to be all right?” she asked, near tears.
“Mrs. Williams, we’re not quite sure yet,” Thomas began. “Right now, we’re looking for any clue to help us determine what happened Sunday. Now, the doctors told us the children were all healthy, but they had been suffering from a cold.”
“Yes. Children always seem to get sick when the weather changes. They probably caught it when they were playing out back last week.”
“In your backyard? Could we take a look, please?” asked Rachel.
“Certainly. This way.”
The backyard was large, with several trees, a swing set and teeter-totter, a sandbox, and a weathered gazebo by the back fence.
Thomas began looking around the yard, while Rachel went straight to the gazebo. Up close, it didn’t appear weathered so much as old.
“This is a lovely gazebo, Mrs. Williams. How long have you had it?” Rachel asked.
“Only a few months. My husband gave it to me as an anniversary gift.”
Rachel leaned in for a closer look at the posts, noting that the stone had yet to chip or even crack. Then she noticed something else on the posts, and it took her a full minute to realize what she was seeing. She stood mouth agape, and then quickly examined the other posts, finding the same curiosity on each one. She looked around, and saw that Mrs. Williams was in deep conversation with Thomas. She took a digital camera from her pocket and began taking pictures. Thomas and Mrs. Williams walked up just as she was finishing the last shot.
“What did you find?” Thomas asked.
Rachel pointed to one of the posts and said, “There appear to be runes on these posts, Thomas.” Then she looked at Mrs. Williams. “Ma’am, do you know from where you’re husband purchased this gazebo?”
“No. He never told me, and I didn’t think it was important.”
“You said that the children were playing in the yard last week. Were they near the gazebo?” Thomas asked.
“Yes. I checked up on them, to make sure they were all right, and they were running around it,” she replied. “They were laughing,” she added brokenly.
“Thank you. Could you call your husband, and find out where he got the gazebo? It could be important.”
“All right.” She turned and walked back toward the house.
“Thomas, are you sensing anything?” Rachel asked.
“Nothing specific, but I think the gazebo is definitely part of this. It’s evil, whatever it is.”
“I’ll get this to Rome. Hopefully they’ll be able to tell us just what the runes mean.”
They pulled up to the Planter’s Box, a gardening shop on the outskirts of town. It was an old, weathered building that had stood for thirty years. Rachel stopped as they neared the entrance.
“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “Something about this place feels wrong. But I can’t put my finger on it.”
Thomas looked around. “I feel it too. Keep your eyes open. Be ready.” With that he opened the door and they stepped inside. Immediately, their sense of wrongness was magnified. Uneasy, they approached the counter, but no one was there. Thomas rang the bell. “Hello? Anyone here?” he called.
A voice came from the back, sending shivers up their spines. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” A few moments passed, then they heard the sound of running feet and a door slamming shut.
Thomas and Rachel sped to the back of the store, ripped open the back door and saw a man running away into a field behind the store. They gave chase, finally cornering him in an abandoned barn.
They entered warily. Thomas had called his sword to his hand, and held it in high guard. Rachel had her magic at the ready, prepared for anything.
“You might as well come out. You’ve nowhere to run.” Rachel called.
When no answer was forthcoming, they began searching the stalls, but found nothing. Thomas then climbed the ladder into the loft, while Rachel covered him from the ground. Still, they could find no trace of him. Finally, they found an open door at the back of the barn.
Thomas swore. “Now what?”
“We go back and search his business. Maybe something will turn up. In the meantime, we’ll watch for him, and keep and eye on the children. Who knows what he’s planning.”
They returned to the Planter’s Box, but found nothing. Disappointed, they returned to hospital to check on the children and warn the parents about what they had found. With that done, and no clear direction, they returned to the hotel to get some rest.
When the phone rang, Thomas was up in a flash. Rachel woke up only a moment later, in time to here the conversation.
“Hello? Yes this is he. What? When? And there’s no sign of them? Ok, have hospital security check the surveillance cameras. We’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone and began pulling his clothes on.
A feeling of dread in her stomach, Rachel asked. “Who was it? What’s wrong?”
Thomas paused only long enough to take a deep breath and answered, “That was Father Tim. The parents called him a few minutes ago. The children are missing from the hospital.” Rachel stared at him for a moment, and then began dressing hurriedly.
A short drive later, they walked into the hospital and were met by Father Tim.
“What happened, Father?” Thomas asked.
“We’re still not sure. Surveillance cameras show them leaving about half an hour ago, but nobody remembers seeing them leave.” Father Tim rubbed wearily at his eyes, and asked “Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”
Thomas gently squeezed the priest’s shoulder. “We have a couple of ideas where they might be, Father. Don’t worry. We’ll find them.” He looked at the worried priest and added, “Stay with the parents. Comfort them, do whatever you can to keep them calm. We’ll let you know what we find.” Father Tim nodded, and walked off towards the waiting room.
Rachel looked at Thomas. “Do we have any idea where to look?”
He nodded. “First, we’ll check out the gazebo. Then, we’re going back to the barn. I have a feeling we’re missing something.”
They stopped by the Williams’s house, but the gazebo was unchanged. On their way to the barn, Rachel’s phone rang. “Hello?” she said. She listened for a few minutes, and then said “Thanks. We’ll keep you posted.” She was silent for another minute before saying, “That was Rome. The prophecy the children were chanting was just that – a prophecy. They found mention in the archives of ‘The Prince of Fire’ and ‘The Lord of All and Nothing’. It refers to an ancient demon that plagued the earth three thousand years ago. He was known as Abaddon.”
Thomas gripped the wheel tighter. “And the runes?”
Rachel said, “The runes indicate the gazebo is actually a thousand years old, and was used by demon worshippers for two purposes. Summoning and binding of demonic spirits, and the binding of wills.”
“Binding of wills?” Thomas asked.
“It means that whoever uses the gazebo can bind others to his will. They will do whatever he tells them to do.” Rachel remained silent for a heartbeat, and then said, “We have to find those children.”
“I know. And I think I know where to look.”
Ten minutes later, they were standing in the barn, flashlights in hand.
“We’ve already searched the stables and the loft, Thomas.” Rachel said.
“Yes, but we haven’t searched the floor,” he replied.
“The floor? You’re looking for a trap door in a barn?” she asked.
“Have you got any better ideas?”
They continued their search, and to Rachel’s surprise they found the trapdoor in the last stable on the north wall, buried beneath some moldy hay. Thomas flashed her a look, then quietly opened the door.
Thomas descended first, and then called his sword to his hand at the bottom. He kept lookout while Rachel descended, waited for her to ready her magic, then led the way down the dirt tunnel.
“How did you know?” Rachel whispered.
“I didn’t,” he answered. “I just had a hunch.”
It seemed they had walked for miles when they heard the sounds of chanting, a deep guttural voice speaking in an unknown language. They approached carefully, quietly, hoping to keep their presence hidden until they were ready to strike.
The tunnel eventually opened up into a series of chambers, lit by flickering torches. Thomas examined the floor, and then pointed.
Rachel knelt down for a closer look. In the dirt, she could make out a series of footprints, made by someone small and barefoot. She looked up to Thomas for confirmation and got an answering nod in response.
They followed the chanting until it led them into a large chamber. On the far wall, they saw a lone figure standing before an altar, his back to them. In the center of the floor was a pentagram, and at each point lay a child, their feet pointing towards the center. They took a quick look around the room, and seeing no one, began to make their way quietly across the chamber. As they passed the children, the figure spoke without turning. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”
Thomas and Rachel froze, eyeing the figure warily.
He turned around, and gave them a chilling smile. “Come now. You don’t honestly think you can stop me from completing this ritual and awakening Abaddon, do you?”
“You’re outnumbered,” Thomas began. “Surrender now and you won’t be harmed.”
“How amusing. However, I hardly think I’m outnumbered, not when I can do…this!” He thrust both hands out before him, and Thomas and Rachel found themselves hurtling through the air. They landed hard on the ground by the entrance, and spent a long moment gathering themselves.
“He’s powerful,” Rachel observed.
“True, but there’s still two of us. We can take him.”
When they got to their feet, they saw that the man was chanting again, but this time he was facing them. Before they could act, he finished his chanting and thrust one hand at the ground between them.
The ground began to writhe and tremble, and out of the disturbance rose a huge form, seemingly made of rock, but possessed of a malevolent intelligence. It looked at them once, and with a roar charged.
Thomas barely got out of the way in time. Rachel did not, and took a blow that slammed her back into the wall. She fell to the floor dazed and spitting blood. Thomas roared his defiance and caught the monster off balance with a charge of his own. His blade sang through the air and bit deep into the upraised arm of the creature. Thomas was showered with rock and dirt as the beast screamed in pain.
Dancing back from an overhand blow, Thomas circled the monster, while trying to rouse Rachel. “Rachel, get up! You have to reach him before he completes the ritual!” Rachel was still reeling from the creature’s initial blow, and was near senseless.
Thomas cursed as the creature aimed a kick at him, spinning away just in time, and landed a blow that did little damage. He lunged, driving the point of his sword into the back of its leg, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid being caught in the creatures grasp.
His breath was driven from his lungs as the creature began to squeeze, intent on crushing his foe against his body. Thomas’s vision blackened, and he knew that he was dead.
Inexplicably, the creature released him, and he dropped limply to the ground and began to gulp down air, grateful for the reprieve. He looked up, and saw the creature burning. Rachel stood nearby, blood trickling out of her mouth and nose, arms extended as she held her flame on the monster. The creature, blinded by agony, dropped to his knees in front of Thomas. Wasting no time, he gripped his sword with both hands and drove it point first into the top of the creature’s head. With a pitiful moan, the creature dropped face down on the floor, and seemed to melt back into the dirt that spawned him.
Thomas rushed over to Rachel, who had collapsed moaning onto the floor. She coughed weakly, spattering blood onto the floor.
“Thomas, there’s no time,” she gasped. “You have to stop him before he completes the ritual.”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be ok. Don’t worry about me. Just stop the ritual.”
Thomas laid her gently down upon the ground, stood, and sprinted for the far side of the chamber. The chanting was growing louder, more intense, and he pushed himself harder, beyond the pain he felt in his body. He reached the steps and took them two at a time. When he got to the top, he used his momentum to drive his sword up to the hilts in the back of his enemy. The body stiffened, and began to tremble. He kicked the body off the blade, sending it reeling onto the altar. The demonist hung there briefly, and then slid limply to the ground, leaving the altar covered in his blood.
Breathing heavily, Thomas stood there and waited for his enemy to die.
“It’s over. You have lost. Abaddon will not return.”
The demonist laughed weakly, a wet gurgling sound. “Fool. My death has ensured his return! The blood of the servant is required to complete the ritual, blood willingly given. And in doing so, I have guaranteed my place in the Kingdom he will establish on this earth!” He laughed once more, his mouth locked into a hideous grin, and then died.
Thomas, stared at the body for a moment, then turned and ran back to where Rachel lay.
He found her sitting against the wall, on arm held tightly against her side, blood trickling more freely from her mouth. “Did you stop the ritual?” she asked.
Numb, Thomas shook his head. “No. In killing him, I completed the ritual. Abaddon will return, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” He knelt by her side, over come with grief.
“No. We can still stop it. But you have to do exactly as I say. No questions.”
Mutely, he nodded.
“Carry me over to the children, and set me down in the center of the pentagram. Then you must step back beyond the circle. You cannot re-enter the pentagram, or all is lost.”
Thomas gathered Rachel into his arms, and quickly carried her over to the pentagram, set her gently in the center, then backed away. He knelt on the floor, and waited.
Rachel lay there unmoving, her breath coming in gasps.
A light appeared on the ceiling of the chamber, a sooty red glow that began to swirl. It grew larger and larger until it was the exact size of the pentagram. Thomas stared at it in mute horror, then looked back at Rachel.
Struggling to her feet, Rachel fought to stand erect in the center of the circle. She stared defiantly up into the maelstrom, waiting.
Without warning, a shaft of red light shot from the center of the swirling energy, and engulfed Rachel in its hellish light. She stiffened, and cried out in agony. Blood began to run freely from her mouth. She raised her arms towards the ceiling, and began to pray.
Thomas leaped to his feet and would have entered the circle, but Rachel stopped him with an upraised hand and a stern look.
“As the servant was required to give his life to complete the ritual, so must I give my life to stop it. There is no other way.”
Thomas looked on, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Blood flowed like water from her mouth now, and she wept blood. Despite the pain, she continued to pray. She knew that she was dying, and yet she never faltered, never wavered from what had to be done.
Thomas watched as Rachel began rising into the air, her arms and head thrown back. It seemed to him that she grew transparent, and saw a small white spark appear within her translucent form. The spark grew, until it filled her entire being, leaving only a faint outline. Then it began pushing against the red light, forcing it upward until the light that was Rachel touched the vortex.
In a brilliant flash of light and sound, both were gone, leaving only a few motes of light.
Thomas was still gazing upwards, weeping openly, when he heard the first of the children begin to cry. He went to them as they awoke, comforting them as best he could, soothing their fears, until at last their tears had ceased.
He took a small girl into his arms, and, with the rest of them following, led them out of the chamber and took them home.
.
