Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre (11 page)

his desk, pushing his glasses firmly onto his face.
“If she is protected, the demons will not let anyone get close
enough to her to find out if she is actually pregnant. They must
be used to you being around her now. They must be, because you
are still alive,” the priest says. Sarah recalls the young girl who had
warned her to leave. My father thinks you should leave, the doves
will not protect you.
“Father, do doves have anything to do with this?”
Father Johns takes a moment to ponder the question.
“Doves are the symbol of peace. It is believed that they contain
the Holy Spirit, watching over us. Does that answer your ques-
tion?”
“Yes.”
Father Johns stands once more, reaching for a small wooden
cabinet directly behind him. Opening a small drawer, he pulls out
a golden pendant. “I will give you this pendant. It is filled with
holy water blessed by the Pope himself. I had it sealed. This should
be the only protection you need, but you cannot wear it until you
absolutely need it.” He places it into Sarah’s palm.
“Why?”
“They will feel its power and after that happens, God only
knows. You must keep it near, just in case you need it. Hide it
away from your body. They will only focus on you. When you
need it you must surprise them with its power. Once you leave
here, you must try and remain calm. They will be watching. Tell
Melissa you came to the church to see a friend, be cautious; they
will eavesdrop. More importantly, you must get Melissa here. That
is the only way we can help her. We must cleanse the soul of this
unborn child, because if we do not, its soul will be forever lost.”
“How will this pendant help me?”
“Honestly, Sarah, I just have my faith. We are fighting a war
that has only been foretold. My instincts tell me this pendant will
help.”
Sarah nods, then grasps it tightly.
“Satan has to steal the soul of the human child, then replace
it with a new soul conjured by the Beast. I believe we still have
time.”
The two begin their tedious preparations for the battle that may
await them. Father Johns intensely reviews his chapters on Asy-
lum of Omen to find a weakness in Satan’s plans. As he searches,
Sarah methodically reviews the past weeks’ strange events.
“Donald said they had trashed the apartment, but when we
came back, it had been cleaned and filled with food and stuff.
Then he was killed; I had just talked to him. He said Silas and
Marty were with him, and they were killed, too--slaughtered like
animals.”
“As you can see, these demons are capable of killing. That is
why you must be extra careful when approaching Melissa. You
must not get trapped within the realm of the beast. It seems the
apartment may serve as sort of a gateway between the other realm
and our world. As for the little girl, I have no explanation, but she
does seem to be a warning from the guardian of the child.”
They continue to discuss their plans for a few more hours.
Father Johns believes that if Sarah can get Melissa out of the
apartment and close to the church, they may have a chance. If
she will not go willingly into the church, Father Johns, Sarah, and
other priests must subdue her. Sarah trembles as she listens to his
plans. Her hands are wet with sweat. She is terrified.
Father Johns reviews his plans in his mind. If we can get her
into a tub of pure holy water and submerge her body while reciting sacred verses, purifying her soul, we should be able to save
her.

few doors down from where Sarah and the priest discuss
the holy task they have accepted, a young woman is driven
mad by what she has seen.

The room still remains a dark dungeon, the kindling flame of
the thick white candles still poorly illuminating it. Jackie paces
back and forth, with her eyes wide and mouth frozen into a partial grin. The breeze of her gentle sway causes the delicate candle
lights to flutter constantly.

Her clothes remain tainted with blood, smelling of urine and
feces. Maintaining her hands in a position of evening prayer, she
begins nervously blinking away tears, speaking in a low, peculiar
tone.

“I saw your world. I know you’re watchin’ me. You in my head.
You ain’t supposed to be there. I feel weak. I gotta sleep. I ain’t
slept in days. I just wanna sleep, but I can’t.” Taking a brief pause,
she continues with a laugh. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You
want me to sleep, but I won’t, you bastards! I won’t!”

Slamming herself into a seated position, she quickly grabs a
sharp-edged rock and begins to carve another crucifix into her
scorched arm. The sound and feeling of the tearing flesh does not
hinder her act of protecting herself. Her forearm quivers violently
as she digs deeper and deeper.

She does not see the redness of the blood that now races down
to the palm of her hand. Because of the faint light, all she sees is a
shimmering liquid splendidly reflecting the dancing candle flames.

The realization of her exhaustion overwhelms her. Her pain
and bruising only increase her need for rest.
She looks around at her dismal surroundings. Incomprehensible voices suddenly fill her head, a strange type of eerie whisper-
ing. Grasping her scalp, she becomes enraged. Never screaming,
she rocks back with her mouth gaping open, and her self-inflicted
wounds trickle more fervently. The alluring voices become louder
and louder, before suddenly becoming quiet. The unstable rhythm
of her heart becomes the dominant sound.
Looking around once more, she gazes at the decaying stonewall, then at the small petrified stand that serves as a base for one
of the candles. Up the wall, her eyes steadily climb, passing the
cobwebs and the dense wooden ceiling trim. Her eyes halt. With a
fixed gaze, she peers steadily at the ceiling’s sturdy beams.
The incomprehensible voices embrace her thoughts once more;
feelings of despair overcome her.

“Don’t you worry about that, you just worry about the task
at hand.” Father Johns gestures Sarah out into the night. He has
instructed her to go home as soon as possible, so as not to arouse
any suspicion. Upon closing the heavy sacred door, he turns
around, changing his expression from a reassuring smile to serious
concern. “We must get things properly prepared,” he says, speaking to a man standing silently behind him dressed in a monk’s
robe. Vincent’s face is expressionless; he stands with his hands
tightly clasped in front of him. Without uttering a word, he falls in
step directly behind the casually dressed priest.

Sarah strolls along the night streets with only her faint
shadow to keep her company. The auburn streetlights radiate
the sleeping cars waiting anxiously for the morning rush hour.
One street light seems knowledgeable of the evil in town; it
flickers violently as Sarah passes quietly. The twilight heavens
again allow the majestic crescent moon to hover steadily above.
The streets resemble the calm just before the storm--so still, so
quiet.

As Sarah peers upward, she wishes she could be on any one
of those twinkling planets. She feels her fate up there, in the
unknown. There would be better than what she may face in the
next few hours. She isn’t sure if she is being followed or if it’s just
her shadow giving her this sense of uneasiness. Her hands become
cold and clammy, and she shivers at the thought of returning to
202 L Avenue.

She remembers the huge black bird that perched on their fire
escape this morning. She remembers how arrogantly it waltzed
side to side, announcing its presence to the world. She recalls its
evil shrill breaking the morning calm.

The evening air is breezy and holds a slight chill. Brisk flashes
of cool air pass Sarah as she walks the lonely streets. Sarah, wearing only a thin shirt and jeans, crosses her arms in order to con-
serve body heat.

As she enters the Ironbound section of the city, she knows her
destination is only a few blocks away. Her armpits itch and sting
with perspiration as if she has suddenly developed a tropical rash.
Blood rushes throughout her body with the aid of a nervous, rapidly beating heart. Dabbing her palms on her jeans, she tries to
eliminate the clammy, cold feeling. Her pupils dilate; she blinks
frantically, trying to maintain composure. Her feet become drasti-
cally heavier as she gets closer to the unholy building.

Once in front of the building, she realizes she must appear as
normal as possible. Dabbing her palms once more, she grasps the
cold brass knob. Turning it ever so gently, she pushes the door
open. With a small creak of its rusty hinges, the small walkway
is revealed. Taking a deep breath, she proceeds to open the inner
door. The hall, quiet and peaceful, is well lit. As usual, the other
apartments look undisturbed; their doors remain tightly shut. One
step at a time, she quietly walks up the winding stairway, tightly
grasping the brown wooden banister.

Dabbing her hands once more on her blue jeans, she feels an
unfamiliar knot in her side pocket.
Oh no! she screams to herself. Sarah had forgotten all about the
precious pendant she was carrying.
Father Johns said they could sense it, maybe they don’t know
I’m here. I’ll just hide it! Sarah feels her pulse beginning to race;
the anxiety she desperately has tried to suppress is out of control.
Beads of perspiration begin to form within the creases on her
forehead; her hands grow clammy once more. Even her breasts
are involved, itching. Her nervous system kicks into overdrive,
preparing her body for the unknown.
Frantically, she hides the golden pendant with its precious water
in a small crease in the wallpaper.
I’ll put it here just in case I need it, it’ll be close by. Father Johns
said if I put it around my neck, it should give me enough protection until I can get back to the church. I hope he’s right.
When she reaches the third level, she walks as lightly as possible
down the dimly lit hall. With each step, the door seems to drift
farther away.
Standing directly in front of the door, Sarah takes a series of
breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She then grasps the handle and
unlatches the lock.

ack at the Cathedral, Father Johns opens the room where
Jackie hides from the demons who have given her a terrifying offer. The candles have burned down to the furniture

on which they stand. The wet wax has dripped along the sides,
creating a beautiful, white icicle-like form. The priest peers deep
into the shadows, trying to get a glimpse of where Jackie may be.
Reaching up, he tries to ignite the bulb that normally looms just in
front of the doorway. He quickly notices it is gone. He cautiously
walks deeper into the blackened room.

“Jackie?” No response. “You can come out, it’s just me.” His
voice echoes deep within the blackness. The piercing smell of
urine stings his senses as he lifts his hand to cover his nose and
mouth. Before he is able to block the distasteful smell, something liquid drips onto his hand. As he strains to see the strange
substance, more of it drips from the ceiling, splattering onto his
small glasses. Removing his eyewear, he peers upward. Jackie’s
lifeless body dangles by electrical wire from one of the wooden
beams. Bloody saliva pours from her mouth. Her neck, flaccid and
severely stretched, is lightly torn, revealing some of her flesh. Her
body jerks as the last volumes of air release from her body. Her
blood-soaked eyes partially hide her pupils, as they appear to look
downward at the stunned priest.

Clenching his eyes shut, he quickly crosses his body with the
sign of the cross. He falls to one knee and as he prays, he holds
his fists tightly while keeping his head bowed.

Slowly standing, looking ahead above one of the candles, Father
Johns notices something scrawled into the brick. After wiping his
glasses with his handkerchief, he places them back onto his face.
Walking over to the wall, he tries to read the crooked letters, the
dim light making it almost impossible. Realizing he will need more
light, he walks over to one of the small stands and opens a small
compartment located on its side. Inside, it contains smaller versions of the thick white candles Jackie used. Walking back to the
wall, he uses an already lit candle to give flame to the new one.
Lifting the flame to the wall, he reads.

can’t get them out my head, voices… they watchin’ us, they
know your plans…they know what you gonna do wit Missy…
don’t let Sarah go, they know.

ack at the apartment, Sarah enters. She walks in, trying to
make as little noise as she can. The candles are doused,
the room is dark. One of the windows was left open, so

now the night breeze whisks around the room, tapping the walls
and ceiling. The majestic crescent moon sends one of its delicate
moonbeams through the opening, directly into the room. The
beam’s soft halo gently skips across the brilliantly polished furniture. The draperies quietly sway with the wind, continuously making their acquaintance.

Cautiously she closes the door. Walking with small gentle
strides, she steps forward toward one of the antique lamps. Peering left to right, she bends slightly, reaching for the light switch.
Without warning, a flash of bright green light ricochets through-
out the room. Bouncing from wall to wall, it seems to be teeming
with endless energy. At first, the flying orb seems careful not to
damage anything in the room, but it suddenly takes on a different demeanor. The round magical glow begins to slam against the
walls and ceiling, inflicting damage with every bounce.

This alien form of light subdues Sarah as it now ravages the
room. She stands in the middle of the apartment, wide-eyed with
astonishment and fear. Her arms flat against her body and her
mouth wrenched shut, Sarah stands motionless. The unpredictable orb flashes within inches of her, rippling her thin shirt. Sarah
feels the ice-cold nature of the orb just before her teeth begin to
chatter.

The room changes. A strange odor emerges, a burning smell.
The furniture begins to lose its beauty and luster, and filthy soot
begins to engulf it. The magnificent brown wooden floor starts to
crack and peel. The walls and ceiling don’t escape their fate, as the
soot swallows them also.

Sarah starts to choke. Her body begins to sting intensely as if
she is being burned, yet there is no flame. Her eyes tear profusely,
yet there is no smoke.

Abruptly, all sensations of being trapped in a fire stop. The orb,
however, continues to bounce recklessly throughout the room.
Sarah, wiping the last of the tears, finally feels compelled to
try to back toward the door. She realizes this is the fire the city
woman had mentioned. The room is now totally destroyed, none
of the furnishings recognizable.
“Where are you going?” A witchy green pair of eyes peers from
one of the deep, dark corners, accompanied by a deep voice. With
its body made invisible in the darkness, Sarah feels its massive
presence as it stares down at her.
From the moon-accented shadow, a huge powerful hand
reaches out as if gesturing for a handshake, then turns its palm
upward. The flying orb still flinging itself from wall to wall lands
quietly within the palm. The ball of light begins to melt like a
block of ice left upon a sweltering hot surface. The orb resounds a
fiery, steamy noise as it bubbles and boils within the massive hand.
Drooling over the sides, it is soon reduced to green ooze.
The hand slowly withdraws into the cover of darkness. The
powerful voice again introduces itself.
“Where are you going?”
Sarah, stunned out of her wits, just stares into the darkness.
Bright green eyes begin to pace around the room. As the eyes pass
a window, Sarah sees the outline of a massive monster, something
beyond anything she could ever imagine. It walks at a normal
pace, but the feet that support the weight of this colossal mass
slam against the destructed floor.
Sarah, now hyperventilating violently, reaches into her pocket,
searching for her protection. She realizes she has hidden the holy
pendant in the hall.
“Looking for something, Sarah? Is there anything I can do to
help you? You do believe I am here to help you?” The monster
steps into what used to be the kitchen and opens the fire-dam-
aged refrigerator. Sarah, still blinded by the lack of light, only
hears the creature as it moves about the apartment. Squinting
slightly, she can see the illuminated eyes as they turn to watch
her.
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but there is no food. But I think you’ll
do just--”
“Who are you?” Sarah halts the deep voice.
The loathsome voice releases a sinister chuckle as it again
begins to move about.
“Let’s just say, I’m a friend of some friends.”
Sarah sees the eyes as they, for the first time, begin to move
in her direction. Without thought, Sarah turns and runs, breaking
open the severely burned front door.
Her progress is immediately ceased. There, standing directly in
front of her, are two snow-white jackals. In their offensive stance,
they glare at Sarah, their razor-sharp teeth extending from their
pink salivating gums. Their piercing, icy blue eyes never blink but
stare with full concentration. Without one flaw, their immaculate
white coats hug their thin muscular builds. Their light pink noses
lift into the air, exploring the strange new scent of fear radiating
from Sarah. Once the scent is verified, they release their menacing
grins.
The hallway that was once quiet and dim has transformed to
icy tundra. The bright, white landscape is almost blinding. Magnificent icicles extend from the ceiling, with their bases imbedded
in a sheet of ice that now serves as the ceiling. The once-carpeted
floor is now a densely packed snow-covered oasis. The snow has
a smooth silk-like consistency, only disturbed by the tracks of the
two four-legged guardians.
Sarah slowly backs away, shutting the door. After a few backward steps, all she sees is a closed blackened door with a soft,
white light peering through its outer boundaries.
“I’m glad you have decided to stay.”
Realizing she is trapped, Sarah turns to look at the creature who
is still masked by shadow.
“Where’s Melissa?!” Sarah screams.
“Why do you ask? You cannot help her.”
“I can help her!”
“Sarah, you have too much faith in that priest. Neither he nor
that pendant can help you now.” Sarah tries to hide the look of
surprise on her face. “You wonder how I know? Once within
Jackie’s head, she belonged to us. Sure, she struggled at first, but
she listened in on you and the priest, just as we asked. Surprisingly
though, she fought until the end. We could not get her to kill you,
but that is fine, I have you now.”
“Why kill me?! I’ll leave, I swear!”
“Too late, you have already been warned. We know that you
would not leave for long, you would come back. Your love for
Melissa is strong. So you must die!”
“What could you gain by killing me?” Sarah screams out in pure
terror, praying for her life.