The Altar (16 page)

Nothing had been disturbed since the last time he’d been here, Erik noted. It was obvious that Dovecrest hadn’t been back since his arrest, and even the police had left the place alone. It was as quiet, as if nothing had happened.

“All right, where do we start?” Mark said.

“I’d say with the file cabinet and the bookshelf. He mentioned something about old manuscripts.”

“Who’s to say they’re in English?” Mark replied.

“Good point. But we have to try. I’ll start with the files.”

Erik opened the large metal file cabinet while Mark started looking through the book shelves. The files were in completely random order, mostly things about tribal laws and legal documents. None of it made any sense to him. Then he found some things on the history of the tribe, with minutes from previous tribal councils. Maybe there would be a clue in one of these documents. He spilled the file folders out onto the floor and sat down, surrounding himself with the material.

“I’ve got a couple of old books on local history,” Mark said. “Maybe some of this will help.”

“There might be something here, but there’s just so much of it.”

“Maybe we should put it all together in a big trash bag and take it back to the church.”

Someone suddenly stepped out of the shadows and into the room. His approach was as silent as a cat walking on foam.

“You won’t find anything useful in there,” he said.

Erik and Mark both jumped back, startled. It was Dovecrest.

The Indian laughed, and after an embarrassed moment, the two men rushed to embrace him.

“We thought sure you’d been killed,” Erik said.

“I figured the same about you. So we’re even.”

“So,” Pastor Mark said. “What are we dealing with? And how do we stop it?”

“We’re dealing with a real live demon,” Dovecrest said. “Not something from the fairy tale books. Not something out of someone’s imagination. This thing’s real. And it’s going to make life around here very unpleasant.”

“How far will it go?” Erik asked.

“As far as we let it. As far as it can.”

“Then we need to go to the authorities and tell them what it is so they can stop it.”

Dovecrest shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good, even if they did believe us. Conventional means just won’t work. Guns and explosives are just a joke.”

“The thing ate up the SWAT team for lunch,” Erik said.

“It was the same way at the police barracks. I don’t think even an atomic bomb would hurt this thing. It’s not from our world, remember?”

“So we need to go to its world, right?”

“That’s right,” Dovecrest said. “The portal’s in the altar stone.”

“You’ve done this before?” Mark asked.

“No. The first time we caught the leader before the demon emerged. So we trapped it behind in its own world. This time it’s already made it through.”

“And you know how to do this?”

“The information is hidden in a cave in the woods. I have to do some study and some translation.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Mark said. “And Erik can go back to the church to be with his family.”

Dovecrest nodded. “Then let’s go.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

-1-

The monster had returned to the altar and rested after wiping out the police barracks. Not that it had to rest, but it enjoyed relaxation just the same. These rest periods allowed it to gather strength, and to relive and savor the suffering it had inflicted. It also allowed it to slow down and plan the next step. And, of course, going into hiding just made the game more fun, as the mortals tried to explain away the happenings due to natural causes. Although it didn’t really mind if the world knew there was a demon on the loose, the larger purpose told it to remain more secretive. If people actually were to believe in demons, then they might realize the other end of the equation and begin believing in God as well. That wouldn’t be good. So it had to show at least a little discretion, especially in this modern world that already belonged to the dark side.

Already it was anxious to leave its lair, so to speak, and go back out into the world of men. It would begin by destroying any information that might be found that might expose its weakness, or show how it could be captured or destroyed. Although, being immortal, it couldn’t exactly be destroyed, but it might be permanently confined to the other world.

The altar stone was a comfortable resting spot, but the time had come to leave. It stood up, cool now and stone-like. As it swung its legs over the side of the huge stone, the fires began to burn once again, hotter and more fiercely than ever. The lump on its neck that had been Seti opened his eyes and looked at it, pleading to be set free.

“You have the ultimate reward,” it replied to him. “Immortality, my friend. Enjoy!”

Then the fires once again consumed the being that had been human. Seti screamed in agony again, and the demon laughed. The devil’s work was very much fun indeed.

It walked through the woods, leaving a line of burned out destruction in its wake. It reached a deserted Route 102 and followed the road into town. It knew where information was kept, and it would make sure that nothing about its past survived. It saw the library just ahead.

Unfortunately, the library was quiet when the monster burned and smashed its way through the doors and crashed inside like a molten meteor. It had hoped to find some innocents—children were most prized—but was disappointed. The public section was deserted—it seemed that no one wanted the musty old books today. Two men had been sitting behind the desk when it entered. They had backed up and were looking at the demon with bug eyes. The monster probed Seti’s brain for a moment and filed away everything the once-human had ever known about libraries and librarians. None of it was very flattering.

He’d give his once human follower a moment of fun, he thought, and probed Seti’s mind again.

“What shall I do to them? This can be your revenge.”

He’d picked up thoughts from Seti about how the man had been disciplined by a librarian in junior high school, how the man had sodomized him and threatened to kill him if he told. He then probed the minds of these two librarians. They were disgusting creatures, even to him, rolling about in perversion like a pig rolls in mud. They were evil little men with no imagination beyond their day to day existence. But he would give them something to think about. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Hortatio, he quoted into their collective minds.

The demon probed their minds again, just for fun. The dwarfish man thought of himself as the macho type. He drove a macho car, read sports magazines, and thought he was attractive to women. The tall, skinny guy wouldn’t get his hands dirty, didn’t like to sweat, and enjoyed whining and complaining as his favorite pastime. He was sneaky and unable to take responsibility. This was fun, the demon thought. Human minds were so amusing.

Ironically enough, the macho, dwarfish man turned out to be the bigger coward. He tried hiding behind his friend, then pushed the taller man away so he could flee to the back door, all the time crying and weeping like a baby. The skinny man just dropped to his knees, shocked into silence by the sight of the molten demon standing before him.

The demon hurled a fireball at the dwarfish man’s knees, bursting his legs into flames and bringing him down just a few feet short of the back door. It would be fun to watch him burn, so it turned its attention to the other man.

“No. No. Please....”

The skinny man spoke in a pleading whisper, not even expecting to be heard, but feeling the need to beg just the same. Maybe he’d save him for later, too. It paralyzed his legs with a thought, then turned to look at the books and information.

There was something here about him and about the past. He could feel it. But there was no need to be selective. He chose a shelf of books at random and incinerated it. He was surprised by how fast the flames spread. Two centuries of human knowledge, poof, gone like that. But what was two centuries to him, who was immortal? These men thought they were so clever, but they knew nothing.

He turned to a file cabinet and heated it until it turned cherry red. The contents exploded. The magazines went next. Then he melted the computers until they dripped onto the shelves like microwaved ice cream. The flames from the different fires were joining now, consuming the entire building.

Finally, with relish, the demon turned its attention back to the librarians. The dwarf-like one was huddled in a ball now. The flames on his legs had gone out, but not before his limbs had been charred through like charcoal—they would never work again, no matter what happened. But the demon wasn’t leaving that to chance. It grabbed him by the ankle and pulled. The limb snapped off like a broken twig. The pain broke through the shock, making the librarian scream again. The demon grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the room where he landed on a red hot file cabinet, where he slowly baked like a potato.

The remaining librarian continued to whimper and plead as the demon ripped off his arms, then his legs, then left the torso and head to writhe and blister in the flames.

-2-

As Erik drove back towards the church, he heard the sound of explosions in the distance, coming from the direction of the town. Apparently, the thing was on the loose again. He needed to get back to Todd and Vickie. Though he didn’t really know what he could do to save them if the thing showed up at the church.

Vickie and Todd were anxiously waiting for him.

“Where’s Mark” Vickie asked.

“He’s with Dovecrest. He’s ok. They’re both ok.”

“What a relief. It’s destroyed the library,” Vickie said, softly, so Todd couldn’t hear. “It’s all over the news.”

“How are they explaining it?”

“It depends. Some stations are still using the terrorist thing. Others are claiming a gas leak.”

“Daddy, are we gonna be ok?” Todd said. “Is that thing in the woods gonna get us?”

“We’re gonna be ok,” Erik said. “Dovecrest is going to help us.”

“We’ve gotta kill the rock,” Todd said.

“Yeah. We’ll do that.”

Todd nodded. “I’m gonna go back and check out the computer again.”

Erik watched him go, then turned to his wife.

“Erik, I’m scared,” he said.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I started having contractions today.”

“Is it...near time?”

“I don’t know. They’re not regular.”

“I need to get you and Todd to the city.”

“No,” she said. “I think it’s too risky. We’d have to go through town. I think we’re safer here.”

He nodded. She was right, at least for now. If the thing was, indeed, at the library, he’d have to go right past it to reach the main road. For now, they would be better to stay put.

-3-

Johnny Dovecrest lit a small lantern and led the Pastor into the cave. He knew the demon was nearby. He could feel it, could sense the presence. It was stronger than ever, and not the least bit shy about being seen. It was funny, he thought. In the old times it needed to stay hidden because people believed. No one believed in demons nowadays, even if they saw one with their own eyes.

He slid a rock out of the way and took a metal box from a recess in the stones.

“These are the ancient manuscripts of my people,” Dovecrest said. “They were written before the white man came to this land, and have been handed down through the generations.”

“Are they in manuscript form?” Mark asked.

“They have only been written down in the last 200 years. In the past my people believed in evil spirits. Today it is not so fashionable.”

“That’s something our cultures have in common.”

“Let’s bring this back to the church,” Dovecrest said. “Then we can try to make a plan.”

“The Bible says that Jesus cast out demons. And we can cast them out in his name.”

Dovecrest nodded and led him out of the cave. “That might drive out a demon. But it won’t kill it. Only the Great Spirit can do that. Besides, this is not just an ordinary demon. It is a creature of very great evil. A resident of hell.”

“Won’t driving it out send it back?”

“Sending it back is one thing. Keeping it back is another.”

As they approached Dovecrest’s cabin they heard an explosion. A fireball erupted from ahead, and flames erupted from the windows.

“Hide!” Dovecrest said.

They dove behind a boulder and watched as the demon emerged from what had been the back door of the cabin. It carried a man’s body in its left hand, holding him upright by the hair of his head. Dovecrest couldn’t recognize the poor wretch through the flames, but it was obvious that the man was in agony, literally burning up from the inside. The demon turned its victim and held him up to his face. Then, it spoke, in a raging, steaming voice that was almost human, but definitely not from this world.

“My name is Wrath!” it said. “Look at me and feel my flames. Feel the fury of hell!”

The man screamed and his head literally exploded in the demon’s hand, blowing apart like a firework in a blaze of red, yellow, and orange. Splinters of burned flesh, bone, and brain fell like shrapnel, and the now headless body fell to the ground. The demon stood holding a handful of hair and laughing.

The growth on its neck—what was left of the cult leader—was not laughing. His clouded eyes were contorted in pain as he endured his torture. Once again, Dovecrest locked eyes with the being that had once been human, and once again he saw the man begging, pleading to be set free. The man seemed to see hope in Dovecrest, and the Indian realized how important his task was—not just for lives but for souls.

The demon—Wrath, it had called itself—seemed to sense that something was happening with it’s deformed twin, and stopped laughing. It stood tall and looked out into the woods. Dovecrest and Mark remained still as the demon seemed to search into the trees, looking for a sign of life. Dovecrest could feel his heart beating hard within his chest. He was sure the demon could hear it if it tried. He counted the seconds. The monster was silent. Only the sound of cracking flames from his cabin broke the silence.

He looked at Mark and saw the internal battle going on within the pastor. He knew that Mark wanted to confront the thing with his God and, with a word, banish it back to where it had come from. He shook his head back and forth, very slowly, and mouthed the words “no, not yet. Not now.”

He could almost see the gears turning in the pastor’s mind. He felt the man’s faith, but he also knew that the time wasn’t right. It would be suicide.

He shook his head again. Mark looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded, bowed his head and his lips began to move in silent prayer.

Still, the demon did not stir. If the thing came any closer, or discovered them, the decision would be made for them. Dovecrest held his breath and waited, expecting to die at any moment.

Then, without any apparent reason, the demon made a deep, throaty noise and turned away. Dovecrest peeked around the boulder and saw it walking away. Its flames seemed to be cooling, from cherry red to orange, to yellow. The thing on its shoulder appeared to be just a ball of flesh from the back. It flopped up and down on the monster’s shoulders as if it were sleeping or dead.

Dovecrest tapped Mark on the shoulder and motioned for him to wait as the demon turned right and down Farmington Road. He motioned Mark to follow him as he kept the boulder between them and the monster, hoping against hope that it didn’t stop and look back.

“He answered my prayer,” Mark said. “And he would have defended me.”

Dovecrest didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Perhaps,” he said finally. “But it’s heading towards the church. Does your cell phone work?”

Mark nodded.

“Then call them and warn them. Tell Erik to meet us back at his house.”

“We should have fought.”

“Doesn’t your Bible teach that there is a time for everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then now is the time for us to join forces and gather strength. The white man and the Indian. The old and the new. We must join our spirits as one. Only then can the fight begin.”

“We have joined forces.”

“But we have not yet joined spirits. Your God and mine. Come. We’ll gather our strength. Then we will know. He will tell us. But in His own time.”