Writer's Cove

The Lazarus Grey Series has been given an Award of Excellence

It was one hell of a storm; the torrential rain pummelled the car from every direction, the windscreen wipers were losing the battle, and these dark country roads didn’t help. I’d have to pull over soon or risk crashing. I wouldn’t be driving in the middle of the night in an inundation of rain had it been anyone else who’d asked. Father Ryan hadn’t come over with any details on the phone, all he’d said was for me to get there as soon as I could.

I wasn’t sure, but his tone sounded urgent, like if I didn’t get there in a hurry something dire would happen. And well, in my kind of business if you get a gut feeling like that you act immediately. I had to slow, the car was almost moving at a snails pace; I’d certainly never known rain like this before. No good, I’d have to stop. Pulling the car to the side of the road I turned off the engine.

I took out a cigar from the glove box and lit it; grabbing my mobile phone I keyed in Father Ryan’s number. “Damn it!” the strength indicator light blinked a mocking red, no reception.

Taking a deep draw on my cigar I flipped on the radio, some nondescript country music crackled from the speakers, the rain so bad it was interfering with the signal. I smoked the cigar, threw the stub out the window, quickly rolling the window closed after as not to get too drenched. I relaxed and listened to the music with the rain pelting the metal of the car interfering I turned it up slightly, and relaxed. I closed my eyes as Patsy Cline’s Crazy began, and it brought back memories of when I first met Father Ryan…

It was seven years ago now, Jooles and I had stopped at a roadside diner. You know the type of joint, a greasy spoon, cheap food with as much beer as you could down by the jug full. Walls plastered with photos of country singers with a big stars and bars confederate flag surrounding a huge mirror back of the counter. We’d just finished eating; Jooles sipped a coffee while I swigged a tall beer, and intermittently puffed on my cigar. The owner slapped on the music, Roy Orbison and Only the Lonely I stubbed out my cigar on the side plate as there was no ashtray. Jooles cast me one of those disapproving looks of hers that makes her look so cute, and had been the first thing that had attracted me to her ten years ago.

Orbison finished; Dolly and Kenny came on the radio with Island in the Stream. Taking Jooles by the hand I helped her from her seat, slipped my arms round her waist, pulled her close, and we began to slow dance. A grey-haired priest was sitting alone in a booth at the far end, he smiled as we danced; the only other person there was the owner, who wasn’t paying any mind anyway. Jooles perfume, she’s worn my favourite fragrance, teased my nostrils as I held her close, burying my face in her neck as we swayed to the music.

I had my eyes closed, engrossed in the moment when she was forcibly torn from my arms. I saw her fly backwards, the look of utter shock in her eyes. I raced forward only to be knocked aside by a force I could not see; I crashed into the counter. Then he appeared, a man six feet plus, long straggly jet black hair, dressed completely in black, but the clothes looked as if they belonged in the sixteenth century. His skin, grey yet youthful, with defined features. I clambered to my feet as he held Jooles by her auburn hair. She struggled, I charged. The man just swiped his hand without effort, caught me full in the chest and sent me tumbling.

Jooles fought to get free, but she wasn’t strong enough. The owner had disappeared, and the priest was nowhere to be seen. To my horror the man or whatever it was leaned into Jooles neck; she screamed. The top of her cream dress grew red with her blood. I again ran and leapt at the thing, grabbed hold of his hair and yanked while punching as hard as I could into his side. My efforts had little effect, it was like slamming my fist into a solid wall, my knuckles split and bled.

I was crying like a helpless baby as I watched in agony as Jooles arms trembled, her beautiful bright green eyes rolled back as this bastard sucked out her life . I kept banging away hoping to force him to break his grip, but he was too strong. I heard Jooles gurgle, and that’s when a pair of hands grabbed me, pulled me away and pushed me roughly into one of the seats.

Next thing I see the priest, he mumbles something in a language foreign to me, I later learned he used Latin. The priest held a large cross of silver with its end tapered to a point, and then he buried it right up to the cross bar into the things back. Instantly Jooles dropped to the floor, her dress now crimson. Ignoring what was happening with the thing and the priest I dived to her side and held her. Her body was limp, her breathing almost nonexistent.

Jooles died in my arms that day, I wept until I could weep no more. The priest somehow had destroyed the thing, that bastard who’d defiled my Jooles body, who’d wrenched her from my life. I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Come with me my son.”

I shrugged off the hand, not wanting to leave Jooles even though she had now left me. Next thing I know something strikes me to the back of my neck, and the last thing I hear before blacking out is the radio play Crazy.

I woke with a splitting headache, and a feeling of nausea, as I forced my heavy eyelids apart my blurred surrounding began to focus.

“Jooles,” I murmured.

I was greeted with silence. Once my vision had cleared I notice I was lying on a bed, well strapped to a bed actually. Thick leather cuffs secured my wrists and legs. I lifted my head to gain a better view of my surroundings. The room was dark, I couldn’t make out much, and only a couple of candles lit the area in a yellowish glow. The walls were stone, old stone, the furniture, what I could make out were draped in a sort of purple velvet, and there was a faint odour in the air that I couldn’t quite place. I struggled against the restraints, but to no avail.

“I’ll remove them if you will remain calm.” A voice came from the dark.

“Who are you, where’s Jooles?”

“Sorry son, she’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“I know it’s hard my son, but there was little you or I could have done.”

Then it hits me, everything comes flooding back in a rush like a bulldozer slamming into me.

“I’ve had to keep you sedated for a while,” says the voice.

“This…this isn’t a hospital!”

“No. This is God’s house.”

I watch as the figure steps into the yellow light, it is the priest, the priest from the diner where…

“Sedated? How…how long and why? Oh my god, Jooles she’s…” I fight with the restraints in anger.

“I see it is not yet time. When you have rested enough we will begin your training.”

The priest said quietly as he pulled a syringe from a drawer.

“What?” was all I had time to say before he injected me and I began to fade back into unconsciousness, the last words I heard was the priest’s voice.

“You are destined for a new life, one chosen by our Lord, my son. Rest now.”

The radio crackled and squealed, dragging me back from my reminiscing. I switched it off, the rain had slowed somewhat, enough for me to continue on my journey to meet with Father Ryan. I started the car, turned out onto the road and drove into the darkness…

 Piano Paranormal

Eight weeks, eight frigging weeks it took Dominic to recover enough to finally be left alone. Gave me time to recuperate though, and for Mona to cast her voodoo magic to re-sanctify the church, and no demon would ever be able to get her to remove it. Mona, the darling, came round everyday for those eight weeks to check on Dom and me, even prepared us some great food to make sure we didn’t starve, which would have happened if the cooking had been left to me. On the final day Mona came round to see me off.

“You take good care now, sugar,” she ordered while she wrapped her arms round me in a tight hug.

For a woman of only five foot two, she sure had some strength to her. I shook Dominic’s hand and he pulled me to him in a friendly embrace, and whispered...”Thank you Lazarus.”

Ten minutes later I was back in the driver’s seat of my beat up old Mercedes and hitting the road at sixty.

About two weeks passed, and I hadn’t received any calls from Dominic giving me any new hunts. I’d spent most of that time just driving, staying in a few towns overnight now and again. I was simply cruising the roads and enjoying the views.

It was a Sunday afternoon; the sun was beating down with a temperature approaching the hundred degrees. I pulled into a gas station with the intentions of firstly taking a leak, and secondly grabbing a coffee from the diner. I’d been driving hard and almost falling asleep at the wheel, so needed the coffee to wake me up a little. Having visited the bathroom, and performing the necessary, I strolled into the empty diner and sat myself down near the window.

I looked out to see nothing but prairie with a backdrop of far off mountains. The sky was a bright blue without being marred by a single cloud.

“What can I get ya hun?”

I looked round to see the waitress, a woman in her middle years with unkempt dark brown hair, black horn rim glasses, and smudged ruby red lipstick. She held a notepad in her hand as she chewed on the pencil impatiently.

“Huh? Oh, yeah...coffee, black no sugar.”

“Anything to eat?” she asked in between scribbling my order on the pad and then tapping the pencil on her teeth.

“No, just the coffee.”

She shrugged and walked over to the counter.

I returned my attention to the mountainous landscape. Maybe I’ll head for the mountains, could do with some new scenery.

The waitress returned and slid the cup of coffee in front of me and walked away without speaking. I took a sip, it was hot and tasted good, the aroma of the coffee beans tantalised my senses. I placed the cup down and returned my attention to the landscape. I could live in the mountains, give all this shit up and retire, sure would be good.

Well my thoughts of retirement didn’t last long as my cell brought me back to reality; it was Father Ryan. Turned out he had a hunt for me. He gave me the lowdown; apparently I was needed by some highbrow dame who was having a spot of bother with a ghoul at her mansion. As she’d promised to make a large donation to the church if I eliminated the presence, and as they are the people who make sure I have all the cash I need, I could hardly refuse. I slung back my coffee, dropped a bill on the table, and headed outside to the Merc. I punched the destination into the satnav. Hmm twenty hour’s drive...maybe stop off half way, get my head down for a few...should arrive late Monday evening.

I drove all Sunday into the early hours of Monday morning, and then pulled over for a break, and a few hours sleep before continuing. I just couldn’t get comfortable, the events of the last few weeks kept bringing back memories I didn’t want running round in my mind. I made myself comfortable on the back seat, and it came rushing back...

After the incident at the diner where I lost Jooles to that son of a bitch vampire, Father Ryan kept me restrained and sedated for something like two months, I can’t really remember just how long for sure. He said it was time needed to ‘come to terms’ with what had happened. During those weeks, every time I came out of sedation all I wanted to do was rip the priest’s heart out for keeping me prisoner.

Slowly I realised my anger and hate would not get me free. Time passed and each day Father Ryan would sedate me less and less until I was awake most of the time. He never once lost patience, never once argued back during that time. He’d told me Jooles had been provided with a good funeral, and he was sorry to have had to keep me from it. I’ll admit I cried when he told me, I never had the chance to say a final goodbye, although about a year later I did visit her grave and said farewell, but she has never left me really. I carry Jooles always, in my heart and fondest memories; that can never be taken from me.

Eventually, the pain of Jooles death eased, eased enough for me to be released from my bonds. When Father Ryan removed those bonds, the burning need for retribution didn’t come as I expected. We had in fact moved on to become friends, I no longer saw Father Ryan as the enemy. Then followed the question and answer period, a time where I asked and Father Ryan answered as best he could.

I told Father Ryan I was thankful he was at the diner and had killed that monster; his reply was that he wasn’t there for the vampire. I said well fate stepped in; his answer was the beginning of what I was to become.

“Fate had nothing to do with it, it was preordained. I was there for you Lazarus Grey.”

“For me?”

“I had been sent to collect you. Your destiny has been written by the saints.”

“Sorry Father, I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.” I replied with more than a little astonishment.

“Lazarus, there are a great many unworldly things in this world that the masses have no knowledge of, thankfully. Most only think on these things as nightmares or myths and legends, stories to frighten children. But they do exist.”

“Well I know that now Father, I saw the vampire, fought with him.”

“The vampire is not the only things that roam the earth. Evil is everywhere, it is your destiny to find this evil and destroy it.”

“My destiny...you’ve got the wrong guy Father!”

“I know you are not a believer Lazarus, I only do as instructed by those above. They told me you are the one and to prepare you for what is to come.”

“Look Father, I’m just an ordinary guy. I have no belief in heaven or hell. Only what my eyes show me. Yet you expect me to understand and believe I am some chosen one to root out evil?”

“I did not choose you, the saints did.”

“The saints, yeah right!”

“In time Lazarus you will come to believe all is possible. I will be your guide and through me you will receive your necessary training. When you are ready, the Quorum of Saints will bestow upon you their gift to aid in the quest. This they have told me.”

Firstly I thought maybe the Father had lost his mind, but as time went on he showed me things that I would have never thought possible. I learnt the ways of old, the demon names and the life of damnation along with hell’s plan. Father Ryan taught me the ways of...

My wristwatch alarm woke me as dawn broke. Time to get moving, should be there by eight tonight.

I drove through Easterville just before eight; the house was just out of town, situated along a private drive with surrounding forestry. On reaching the driveway I found my way blocked by two large black iron gates between two beige stone pillars, on the left pillar sat an intercom. Fancy!

I leaned out the car window and thumbed the intercom button.

“Yes?” came an immediate crackled response to the pinging of the intercom.

“Lazarus Grey.”

“Ah yes, Mister Grey. You made good time, come on through.” The intercom guy’s voice replied as I saw the gates slowly swing apart.

I drove  up the winding driveway and on up to the house, well more than a house really, a mansion that stank of cash. Langstrom Manor, the residence of Mrs. Amelia Langstrom; a widow whose old man had croaked a few years back, and left her with the family fortune, and one twelve year old daughter.

Halting the Merc at the main entrance, I got out and tossed my cigar stub on the gravel and ground it in firmly with my boot. Then I went to ring the doorbell only to see it open immediately. I guess the guy stood in front of me could be described as the butler type. Roughly six feet tall, aged at about sixty was my guess; greying hair, half-rim gold spectacles, immaculately dressed in a black pinstripe with matching black tie.

“Where’s the funeral?” I joked.

“Mister Lazarus Grey?” the butler type inquired with a deadpan look and what appeared to be an upper-crust English accent.

“That, I am.”

“Mrs Langstrom is busy at present. However if you would care to wait in the library, she will meet with you in due course.”

“So, what they call you?” I asked in idle chatter as he practically marched stiff-backed in front of me.

“I am Robinson, Mrs Langstrom’s personal aide.” Robinson answered coldly.

“Robinson? What no first names where you come from?”

“Robinson will suffice Mr. Grey.” He again answered with a regimental precision as he opened a door, to which I presumed, was the library.

“Can I bring you anything Mister Grey? A drink perhaps?”

“A scotch would be good.”

“I was referring to a tea or coffee perhaps?”

No alcohol? “Coffee, as it comes.”

Robinson went off to fetch the coffee, I took the opportunity to case this library, and a library it definitely was. Two of the walls are virtually bookcases, lined with numerous hardbacks and paperbacks; some leather bound first editions too. Over in front of the large window sat a desk made of lacquered wood, a green-shaded bankers lamp sits on one corner while an old fashioned telephone takes the other. In front of the desk is a coffee table of green onyx and in front of that, a dark brown leather couch. The last wall had double doors in the centre and either side hung portraits of someone, not sure who though, probably old man Langstrom.

Robinson came back with a tray and placed it on the coffee table, it held a pure white china cup with delicate handle and pink rose patterns, complete with saucer. I looked at it not knowing whether to drink it or frame it; I’m more of a chipped off-white mug type of guy, and not used to such refineries.

As Robinson left, Mrs Langstrom came in. She glanced at me and then at Robinson.

“Earl Grey.” She said and Robinson nodded.

“No. Lazarus, or Laz.” I said.

She smiled. Well, how was I to know she was asking Robinson to bring some tea?

“Nice to meet you Mister Grey.” She said offering her hand.

I clasped it gently and shook it.

“Please, sit down and drink your coffee.”

I sat, but didn’t touch the coffee; something told me if I did I’d break the damn thing. Robinson came back with Mrs Langstrom’s tea and made a quick exit.

“So Lazarus, I have heard of your gift throught my friends within the church. Can you tell me how you came by such a gift?”

“Long story Mrs Langstrom.”

“Amelia, please.”

It was then I notice Amelia’s dress; it had the same rose pattern as the china cup. Amelia Langstrom, I placed her age somewhere in the thirties, shoulder length auburn hair tied back, brown eyes, and a definite British accent.

“Let’s just say it wasn’t of my choosing.”

Amelia sipped on her tea with her small finger extended.

“I have heard that you were apparently graced by the Saints?”

I didn’t respond. I was here to sort out a spook not give out my life story.

“Mrs Langstrom…”

“I will of course require this background information before allowing you to see my daughter!”

“Your daughter?”

“The reason you are here.”

So something was up with the kid, maybe a possession.

“What’s the problem with your daughter?”

“Lately there have been…” she sighed before continuing, “…Lately there have been some unexplained happenings involving Olivia, happenings that are just too miraculous to be normal!”

“I’ll need to know more Mrs Langstrom.”

“You should know Lazarus that I had you investigated before inviting you to my home. There are certain people high up within the church that speak of you with some regard while others say you are somewhat of a renegade.”

“If you mean I don’t conform to the whims of the bishops and the like, you are right. I do what needs to be done Mrs Langstrom, but I do it my way or no way.”

She took another sip of her tea, and at the same time her eyes moved up to the clock on the wall, a clock that up until now I hadn’t even noticed. When she placed the cup down she said with a hint of trepidation.

“As I understand it, your gift Lazarus, your righteous hand, turns the messengers of evil to dust. So if a human is possessed do they survive the ordeal?”

Funny, the only thing I could think about at that precise minute was I could sure do with a smoke. It was then I heard the music.

“The truth is Mrs Langstrom, not many have survived so far. There have been a couple but my reckoning is they weren’t possessed too long.”

“I cannot have any harm come to Olivia!” she said with raised voice.

“There are no guarantees in this business, but if you want my help I at least need to know what the problem is.”

“You are hearing it now.”

“The piano playing?”

“Follow me.”

I followed Mrs Langstrom; we walked down the hall past several well furnished rooms. The hallway itself was all solid wood, highly polished, so much so that you could smell the odour of beeswax. The piano playing had stopped. When we reached the end of the hallway was a carved wooden door, its colour was much darker than the other doors we had passed, almost black yet still brown. Mrs Langstrom gripped the handle the deeply shining brass doorknob, and as she did so, she put her finger to her lips indicating for me to be quiet.

She turned the doorknob slowly and quietly pushed the door open as the music started once again. She's at a black grand piano, in the centre of the music room was a young girl; Olivia Langstrom,  her back was to the door as she played Beethoven’s Pathetique

We stood there just listening for several moments, the girl never turned from the piano.

“Your daughter is very talented.” I whispered.

“You would think so wouldn’t you?” Mrs Langstrom answered just as quietly.

I looked at her with some puzzlement at her reply.

“Olivia cannot play the piano Mr. Grey.”

Mrs. Langstrom’s announcement came as a bit of a surprise as Olivia was playing the piano like a professional.

We continued to watch Olivia play, she never hit a wrong note, it was as if she’s been taught by the best.

“How long has she been doing this?” I asked.

“For just over four weeks now. It began one night; I heard the piano and came to see who was playing. I do play myself but not to this standard. I found Olivia playing the same Beethoven sonata. Since then Olivia has done the same everyday at the same time. The musical pieces vary, but Olivia never has any recollection once she stops playing.”

Once finishing the piano piece, Olivia got up from the piano and walked past us; she appeared to be in a transfixed state of some sort; she didn’t even see us. Yet the Righteous Hand didn’t pick up on her being possessed or that there was any sprit or demon present. Strange! Maybe remotely possessed?

“She now goes up to her room where she will sleep until the morning, and will not remember anything.” Amelia Langstrom said as we watched Olivia walk along the corridor.

“Well Mrs. Langstrom I can assure you there was no demon present while Olivia was playing the piano.” I tried to assure her as best as possible.

“Then what could it be?”

“Well, there have been a few cases of remote demonic possession whereby the demon latches onto the targets mind, but is actually elsewhere.  The demon would have to periodically visit Olivia to renew the possession. So I guess I’ll need to spend the night in Olivia’s room.”

“I will have Roberson ready a guestroom next to Olivia’s.”

“I have to be in the same room Mrs. Langstrom.”

“Oh, I see, well I’ll have Robinson prepare a camp bed in Olivia’s room. Maybe I should stay with you too?”

“That won’t be necessary Mrs. Langstrom, and I won’t need a camp bed, I won’t be sleeping.”

Mrs. Langstrom pulled a thick knotted cord next to the door, and soon after Robinson appears.

“Robinson, see to it that a comfortable chair is placed in Olivia’s room will you?” she asked, but her voice commanded an astute authoritative tone.

Robinson scurried off to do as told while Mrs. Langstrom ushered me back to the library. Where she told me of her concerns for the safety of Olivia; you couldn’t fault her for being a concerned mother that’s for sure. But whatever was controlling Olivia, wasn’t harming her, at least not yet. I tried to assure Mrs. Langstrom, that although Olivia was going through a spiritual manipulation, if there had been any demonic influences present I would have been aware of it.

“You mean your gift?” she said while gesturing to my hand, “The righteous hand?”

I nodded; “If you can call it a gift!”

“Mr. Grey’s chair is prepared.” Robinson confirmed from the doorway.

“Thank you Robinson…that will be all.” Mrs. Langstrom dismissed.

I knew if I stayed here she’d start to dig, want to know how I gained the righteous hand, but I wasn’t in the sharing mood.

“Well in that case Mrs. Langstrom, I’ll go to Olivia’s room now if you don’t mind?”

“So soon? I was hoping to…”

“Spirits don’t run on a timetable Mrs. Langstrom.” I cut her off.

“Yes…I see. Well goodnight Mister Grey.”

“Night Mrs. Langstrom, and please…don’t worry.”

Olivia’s room was as it should be for a child of her age, although immaculately clean and tidy, but I guess when you’re as well heeled as Amelia Langstrom, you don’t need to do your own tidying. Olivia’s room wasn’t overly done, a dressing table, TV, games console, stereo, wardrobe, a toy box which has toys in bright red letters inscribed on the lid, and her bed, a pink bed and several dolls lining a shelf to the bed’s left.

Robinson had placed an armchair fairly close to the door, and so was faced at an angle into the room, giving the ideal overall view. I took a slow walk round the room just seeing what was about, and finally checked on Olivia. She was sleeping soundly, oblivious to my presence. I turned off the lights, settled into the armchair, and began the long wait.

The drive down here must have taken its toll, because before long I was drifting in a sort of half-awake, half-asleep state, and the memories came…

I’d been with Father Dominic Ryan in training for roughly five months. During that time Dominic had worked hard in giving me all the information I needed on the lower domains of damnation. I’d learnt about the levels of hell, the ranking system of the demon regime, the powers of the high demons and the minions of Satan himself. Father Ryan has shown me how to exorcise a spirit, how to send a ghoul back to the pit, how to protect myself from the mind to the body in order to be able to face what was to come.

Months of listening to him dictate from Latin scriptures on the ways of the underworld. Then one day, a Wednesday as I recall, he came to me and said I was needed in the church. I looked at him strangely, usually the church was quiet on a Wednesday, well at least until the evening, but it was ten in the morning.

“How can I be needed in the church at this time?”

“You’ll see, now go.”

When I entered the church it felt different, cold yet not an unwelcoming cold. There was something different about it, not visual, but a feeling. I walked along the lined pews up to the altar, the church was completely empty. What is Dom up too? I was about to go back to the house when the cold suddenly became icy. My walk became slow, strained as if something was holding me back.

Next all the windows in the church became dark, like something was covering the entire building. It was a strange experience, my feet became like molten glue sticking to the red pattern carpet that ran the length of the aisle. It became colder, unbelievably colder, I actually began to shiver.

Then they appeared, and with them an intense light so bright I had to shield my eyes. Slowly the brightness subsided; the church filled with a sense of well-being, warmth not of heat but of compassion and forgiving. I stop shielding my eyes, as the light is now subdued and before me stands what I thought were three spirits.

The male was flanked either side by a female; human in appearance yet not of substance. Translucent but whole. It is difficult to describe something that is so beyond the mortal. They are like wisps of energy swirling to form the appearance of mortal beings, yet not entering this earthly domain fully.

The male spoke…”

Coldness interrupted my half-sleep dream, and I knew instantly the spirit that held power over Olivia was near. I quickly opened my eyes to see a flowing smoke-like figure hovering above Olivia. The spirit just flowed above her as she slept. Smoky appendages seeped from its cloudy form to touch Olivia’s head.

I began casting the exorcism, keeping my words to a mutter, but it wasn’t enough. The spirit felt the exorcism approach, turned to glare at me with eyes of hatred and dispersed into the air before the exorcism was completed. But I knew it was near, I had felt it had come from somewhere close to this house. This place must have a mausoleum!

I checked my watch, five-thirty, the rest of the house would rise soon. Come seven Robinson was about, going through his daily routine, I caught up with him while he was polishing the family silver in the dinning room.

“Good morning Mr. Grey.”

“Robinson.”

“Breakfast will be served in an hour.”

“I don’t eat breakfast. Mrs. Langstrom up yet?”

“I believe she is in the lounge with a cup of tea.”

“Thanks.”

I immediately headed for the lounge and found Mrs. Langstrom. I told her of my views and she confirmed the house did indeed have a mausoleum. It was a distance from the house, set back in the forest but still on its grounds.

“Do you have any records of who is interned there?” I asked

“I believe we have a record of deaths somewhere in the library!” she answered as she placed her china cup down gently. “Shall we go look?”

I followed Mrs. Langstrom through the connecting door, which I might add I hadn’t notice, into the adjacent library.  She moved along the lines of books to halt on several black leather-bound folders, she pulled one from the shelf.

“Ah, here we are.”

She flicked through the pages, settled on the list of the interned and passed it to me. It was a fairly concise list of the eleven people who had passed away at the residence over the years. I ran my finger down the list, and settled on one Samuel Reins, a musician. Got ‘a be the one!

“So where’s this tomb?” I asked as I handed back the folder.

“I will have Robinson show you.”

While Mrs. Langstrom spoke with Robinson, I went to the Merc to collect a few things; holy water, salt, the usual paraphernalia I used to exorcise a corpse from coffin. On my return, Robinson was ready to lead the way. The walk didn’t take too long; Robinson led me along a narrow, overgrown path through the forest at the rear of the house. The path led up to a clearing that had been well kept over the years, and there it was the Mausoleum.

Robinson fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, fingering through them he found the right one, and opened the gate.

“Stay here.” I said.

“As you wish Mr. Grey.”

Inside there wasn’t much room before the steps led downwards, a copper oil lamp was sat on a shelf, I picked it up, lit it and made my way down. There were only twelve steps, and the oil lamp gave off enough light. There they were embedded into the wall, eleven tombs, their faceplates covered in dust; nobody had been down here in a long time.

I moved along each of the tombs wiping away the dust to read the inscription on each. I came to the forth one in, brushed away the dust and cobwebs and the inscription read…

Here lies Samuel Reins, a renowned concert pianist.
Found in his music room brutally murdered 1880 aged 44.

I ran my fingers round the plate’s edge, and used the tire iron from my car to pry it open. It took some levering but eventually began to give. The air was musty when I pulled the casket out. I quickly levered the lid off, and covered the remains with holy water.

“Please don’t.” I heard from behind. I turn and there it was…the spirit of Samuel Reins.

“I mean the girl no harm.”

I turned back to the casket and poured salt over the bones. “She belongs with the living.”

“I only want to hear the music.” Reins pleaded.

“Time for you to be at peace.” I replied and began the exorcism ritual.

It didn’t take long, there was nothing Reins could do except fade into oblivion. I stood there and watch him dematerialise, and when he’d vanished I pushed the casket back and resealed it.  I reported back to Mrs. Langstrom telling her Olivia’s piano playing should now be over.

An hour later I was hitting the highway at sixty. I turned on the radio and out came Spirit in the Sky.

The Lake.

Chapter: V1

Easterville, Mrs. Langstrom, and Olivia were eight days behind me now, and for those eight days I’d simply driven to the mountains. I’d spent a few nights just sleeping under the stars, the greatness of space my only blanket. These alone nights gave me time to recoup, to reflect on my past over the last few years. It’s these times that pull everything into perspective for me and allow me to continue with what I do.

It was getting late, and I turned the Merc towards a route I knew that would lead me to a lake. I’d visited there a couple of times over the years, the last being a year ago, and thought it was about time again. There is a small log cabin beside the lake, as far as I know it is never used, not while I’ve been up there anyway. I would need to call into the local store to grab a few provisions then I could spend a few days in solitude and formulate just where I want my life to move.

The lake had always been a place of peace for me, no interruptions from the powers of evil had so far happened. It was like while at the lake, the constant battle became a truce, and I was in need of a truce so badly. My dreams had taken to visions of the Nightmare Man, and lately he had haunted my sleeping hours vengefully. Hopefully a few nights at the lake would send him on his way.

Time was getting on when I entered the store, the only supply store for miles. The guy running it had been there for as long as I can remember, he was knocking at deaths door age-wise but still had his wits about him. If one thing he could certainly notice any short change when you handed payment over; eyes of an eagle he had. He had a look about him that told you in his prime he was a force to be reckoned with should anyone cross him. Oh, and the shotgun behind the counter helps out a bit too.

I gathered up the few items I’d need. A few tins of food that could be easily heated on the old stove in the cabin, a few batteries for my torch in case the oil lamp had run dry; the cabin is so remote electricity hadn’t been put in. The old guy watched my every move as I chose my wares, and greeted me with a toothless grin as I placed them on the counter.

The store was just as I remembered it, right down to the pungent stink of kerosene that leaked from the old generator out back. A generator that threatened to give up the ghost every five minutes and caused the store lights to flicker continuously.

“I seen you before, bout a year ago I reckon,” the storekeeper said. His voice hoarse in tone, a hoarseness that told you he’d suffered some throat problems in the past.

“You have a good memory ole timer,” I responded as I pulled a ten from my wallet.

“Yep, I may be old but I aren’t dead yet. Me ole peepers are still in good working order, an’ me grey cells are still keen as ever…that’ll be six eighty.”

I tossed the ten-bill on the counter…”Oh, do you know if the lake cabin is occupied?”

“Son, isn’t no one goes up there these days, hasn’t seen any fishermen for bout oh, three maybe four months. They just keep well away from the lake since four-o-them went missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yup, four young-un’s, never been found… had the law up there dragging the lake for weeks, and came up empty handed. You ask me, they isn’t ever gon’a fined them bones!”

“Bones?”

“Yup, well they sure has got’a be fish bait by now!” he grumbled as he placed each item in a brown carry bag.

“Oh, got any stogies?

“Yeah, course, I got some Lonsdale here some where’s,” he answered while rifling below the counter.

While the old guy was crouched down looking, I saw the mirror that had been blocked by his torso.  What I saw caused me to startle for a few seconds. There in the mirror was the Nightmare Man.  I quickly looked behind me but he wasn’t there, I shot my eyes back to the mirror.  He’s there, his pallid skin wrapped in his ebony cloak. His putrid yellow eyes glare back, the black pinpoint pupils never moving. He grins, his rotting needle sharp teeth still stained red.

“There you go,” said the storekeeper as he struggled up from the crouch and placed a box of cigars on the counter.

I glanced at the box, and quickly back to the mirror. The Nightmare Man had gone.

“Err…that’ll be…how many you want?”

“Umm, four,” I replied automatically.

The old guy scooped up four cigars from the box and placed them in the bag. “That’ll be twenty bucks.”

I handed him a twenty.

“So, you're heading up to the lake?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Be dark by the time you get there.”

“Hence the batteries,” I answered and cracked a small smile.

“Well you drive carefully, the road up can be treacherous in the dark,” warned the storekeeper as I headed for the door.

“Always do.” I responded and made my exit.

I climbed into the Merc and left the store behind. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the storekeeper closing shop. He was right; the dirt track that led up the mountain through the forest was tricky in the dark. A couple of times I almost hit the side bank as the track turned sharply, something that I hadn’t noticed during my daylight trips up here.  At one particular angled bend I slammed my breaks on as a deer leaped across the track. I’m not easily frightened, but that deer scared the living shit out of me. Thirty minutes after the deer incident I turned into the clearing and drove up to the cabin.

I parked the Merc round back, put new batteries in my torch, and went in. The place was a bit sparse, a wooden cot with thin mattress, a wood table with two chairs, both had seen better days. In the corner sat an old iron stove for both heat and cooking and next to it a stack of logs to burn. On the wall next to the stove was a cupboard for food and stuff. Under the cupboard there was a wash basin with water pump; no mod-cons here.

On the table sat a rusty oil lamp, I picked it up and shook it, luckily there was still oil in it, so lit it. The lamp gave off a yellowing, somewhat eerie glow that gave the place a feeling of an old western movie. Wonder where the red Indians are?

The one saving grace was I had brought with me my old battery operated radio, so at least I wouldn't have to be in total silence for the duration. I was desperate for a pee, and as the toilet was an old shack out back, I decided to get the radio from the car as well.

I can honestly say that emptying my bladder was one of the most enjoyable moments of the drive up to the lake. The pure relief was overwhelming, even though there isn’t room to swing a cat, and pissing in the dark does have its dangers, such as missing the target and splash-back. I zipped up, collected the radio and went back inside.

I lit up a cigar and let its flavour caress my mouth before inhaling. Not bad, not bad at all. I sat at the table and tinkered with the radio; it crackled and spat as it worked to pick up a localised station. Eventually, with a little persuasion from my fist, it emitted Ghost Riders. Hmm, how apt!

I left the radio on for some company and laid out on the cot, it wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep. I tossed this way and that during my sleep; my subconscious being invaded by…him. He invades my dreams no matter what they are; he’s there somewhere, lurking in the background. He never speaks, he is just there, watching and waiting; maybe a warning of what is to come.

After a restless night I woke to beaming sunlight casting a shard of light directly through the window onto my face. I got up, the radio was dead as you’d expect. Good job I purchased extra batteries! I’d bought some eggs and a couple of cans of beans, so set about cooking some breakfast. A few logs into the stove along with some kerosene, threw a match in, and she burns ready to go. While cooking, I put on a pot of water so had coffee at hand too. It didn’t take long to cook eggs and beans, and didn’t take that long to down it either; and even if I do say so myself, they sure tasted good.

With the sun came the warmth of the day, nice day for sitting by the lake and simply relaxing. So I grabbed a blanket, from the car and went and lay down by the bank. Laying there I looked up at the cloudless pale blue sky, and just took in the moment.

“Hi there,” a voice broke the silence.

I looked up to see a guy carrying a fishing rod and wearing waders. “Hi.”

“Nice day,” he said as he un-strapped a fishing basket from his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

He crouched on his haunches, “nice day for some fishing.”

“Wasn’t aware anyone else was up here,” I remarked offhand, I don’t know why, I knew this guy wasn’t a demon because the hand hadn’t reacted.

“Oh I’ve been up here a few days now. Just making my way round the lake and casting a line now and then.”

“You staying long?” he inquired.

“A few days.”

“Well, I may see you around, I’m up here for a few days more,” he states as he straightened and looked round the area. “You alone?”

“Seems like it,” I replied

“Not a fisherman then? Yeah alone is good at times.”

“No, I don’t fish.”

“Oh well…I’ll see you around,” he said and raised a hand as he walked away.

Not sure whether it was just my suspicious nature, but something nagged me about the guy. The storekeeper had said no one had been up here for a while. Hmm maybe he was wrong. I watched the guy walk off into the distance, when he’d gone I laid back, closed my eyes and soaked up the sun, trying to empty my mind of this latest interruption.

The midday sun burned hot on my face as I lay at the edge of the lake. No noise cut through the silence, the stillness of the trees, the calmness of the water, and the peace that solitude and silence brings. It wasn’t long before the relaxation allowed me to drift slowly into the dream world.

There is a room, a room shrouded in shadows. A room of darkness encompassed in evil, a cold room, a bedroom.  In the depths of night he comes, haunting, watching, and waiting. Never speaking, silent is his vigil. He is here, the Nightmare Man.

My heart quickens, threatening to burst through my chest. The beast looks at me; he knows I am watching, he knows there is nothing I can do to stop him in his dream world. Here he is king, untouchable even by the righteous hand, and he knows it.

The Nightmare Man moves like gliding air, his black cloak billows slightly as if carried on the wind. He glides effortlessly to the side of the bed. A full moon casts a haunting light through the skylight shrouding the bed in a weak pale yellow light. The Nightmare Man moves agonisingly slow as his thin decaying hand reaches out for the bed cover.

His long fingernails grip the cover, he pauses; the cover pulls back slowly to reveal…

I shot up to the sitting position, staring out across the lake, sweat dripping from my face. Again the Nightmare Man had invaded my sleep; again this beast had abused my mind. When will it stop?

I looked at my watch; I’d slept for something like three hours. I felt in my breast pocket and found a cigar; I lit it and sat there looking out over the still water. It seemed so calm, so at peace, so inviting. Hmm maybe an afternoon swim. But first some lunch.

I walked back into the cabin leaving the blanket at the waters edge waiting for my return. First thing I put on a pot of water for some coffee. Next I replaced the batteries in the radio and switched it on to find My Girl playing.  Next I rustled up some franks and beans, I didn’t bother with a plate, just ate them straight out of the pan, less washing up. I could have gone to the Merc and got my camping kit but I was just feeling too damn lazy. Once done with eating I threw the pan in the sink and left it to soak.

I drank my coffee, leaned back in the chair and lit up a cigar. While I smoked I contemplated what to do, and decided I’d take a walk round the lake before having that swim. So, I threw my gear, radio and such back into the Merc for safe keeping as the door to the cabin couldn’t be locked from outside, and set off.

There was a narrow dirt path following the bank of the lake about six feet from the edge, I kept to this track, walking at an easy pace. I wondered how long it would be before I came across the fisherman of earlier. I’d started my trek to the right side of the lake, knowing the fisherman would probably be somewhere on the left bank. I’d been walking for about an hour and almost reached the far end of the lake when I stopped. Something had caught my field of vision, something on the water, but way off over the other side.

I left the track to get closer to the bank, kicking my way through some brush, and them I saw him.  Standing at the edge of the left bank was the Nightmare Man. I screwed up my eyes and opened them again, thinking it was an illusion, but there he was in broad daylight. “He’s real!” I muttered.

I could sense my breath quickening, my heart beating faster, sweat formed on my brow. I wanted to run, but knew I couldn’t. This couldn’t be real; the Nightmare Man can’t exist outside the dream world. I stared, frozen to the spot as the Nightmare Man looked over at me. He grinned his bloodstained grin, and then stepped off the bank.

Down into the water he sank until his head was completely submerged, and then bubbles broke the surface, and swirled as the Nightmare Man rose back up to stand on the water. He took a step then another and another, closer and closer he walked across the water towards me. I was completely fixed to the spot; the bank weeds had curled round my boots and lower legs locking me into place.

The Nightmare Man quickened his pace, the water splashing where he trod.  He began running, his black as night clothing billowing as he ran. I struggled, tugging; fighting to free myself from the bank’s entwining weeds. I was beginning to panic, now was not the time to face my demon.

Pain was tearing at my heart, panic, which was an unusual feeling for me, had set in. I wasn’t thinking straight, all I could see was The Nightmare Man coming at me. I pulled my feet in a desperate attempt to break free; my fingers ripped at the weeds but more replaced them. I looked up and saw the Nightmare Man leap, his black garments forming a wing as he glided at me. I raised my arms up in defence, shielding my face. A burning appeared in my chest…

“Damnation!” I shouted as the cigar set light to my shirt, forcing me awake from the day-mare. I rapidly patted the smouldering burn mark where the cigar’s end had fallen and burned. Once the burn was extinguished, relief set in. Relief that what had just happened was just a dream, a daytime nightmare. I should have known, but the Nightmare Man had become my most feared demon, and I knew sooner or later I would have to face him to be free of his haunt.

“You got to get a grip on this Laz,” I said to myself.

I went to take a swig of my coffee, it was cold. I checked my watch, I’d only been dreaming for about ten minutes. That was too real! The problem I faced was the Nightmare Man was now invading every second of my sleep, nothing else entered my mind. I knew somewhere he would be there, waiting to terrorise, and now day or night didn’t matter.

I brushed my hand through my sweat soaked hair, and almost jumped out of my skin when my cell phone rang. I dragged it out of my pocket and hit the answer button.

“Yeah?”

“Laz, sugar, are you ok?” asked Mona La Croix.

“Mona?”

“Are you ok Laz?” she reiterated in a worried tone.

“Yeah I’m fine…why?”

“I’ve had a premonition. Laz, I believe you are in grave danger!”

“Well that’s nothing new Mona,” I light-heartedly answered.

“I’m serious Laz, so much so that Dominic is driving me up there right now.”

“Mona, tell Dom to turn round and head back home, I’m fine.”

“Laz, I’m not joking honey. The shadow dragon; that bitch is coming for you, and she isn’t alone this time! We should be there just after night…”

“Mona, I…” the cell went dead, completely drained. “Damn it!”

I didn’t bother with the swim, I spent the remainder of the day chilling and listening to the radio. I caught a glimpse of the fisherman casting a line at the far end of the lake but he soon disappeared and moved on. Time was getting on, I tried to ring Mona back but for some reason my cell had completely died, so I guess I’d be having visitors later.

The sun was setting and casting a myriad of rainbow colours across the mirrored lake; I sat and watched the sun gently seep below the mountainous backdrop causing the snow capped peeks to glimmer pink. I just sat there for a while looking out across the now ebony mirror lake as the moon cast shadows giving it an unnatural hue. The surrounding woodland looks just as creepy, a darkened uninviting place that could house untold terror. It was at this time, my thoughts returned to the time I gained the righteous hand…

Ah yes, there they were the three spirits. The male flanked either side by a female; human in appearance yet not of substance. Translucent but whole, wavering in and out of this human reality, breaching the space between the corporeal and immortal.

The male spoke…”Do not be afraid Lazarus.”

“I’m not afraid,” I answered, and surprisingly I wasn’t.

“We have watched you for a long time,” said the female apparition to his left.

Each spirit had appeared in gowns of brilliant white; each face held regal features as if they were above reproach, pure in all things. The air surrounding them smelt sweet like honeysuckle, and there was a sense of complete well-being over the area.

“The time has come for you to become who you are meant to be,” announced the male.

His voice was commanding yet soothing, peaceful yet strong. It wasn’t a command but more of an acknowledgement that they were here to guide and help rather than order.

The female to his right had the most stunningly beautiful bright blue eyes that shone with life as she said, “We are here to help you Lazarus, and to bring you the gift you will need for the times ahead.”

“The gift?”

“You have been chosen Lazarus, chosen by the holy quorum, for the task ahead,” said the female to the left. Her sunshine hair trailed down to her waist and glistened with a million sparkling sunbeams.

“Quorum…Task?” I reiterated like some uneducated kid.

The male stepped forward, my instincts told me to retreat but I didn’t move, whether it was voluntary or some power they held, I stayed where I was.

“We represent the Quorum of Saints. We have chosen you Lazarus, to be our champion here in the earthly domain. The powers of evil continue to oppress and deride. You Lazarus are to stand in evil's path in our name. You will be our weapon to fight the demonic horde, to hold back those that would defile and abuse the innocence of humanity…”

“I’m…I’m only a guy, not some miracle worker!” I interrupted, not really believing what I was hearing even now.

Bright eyes stepped forward and place her hand on my right arm, the sensations I felt were of utter peacefulness and calm.

“No Lazarus, you are more than just another mortal man.”

The male nods and gestures to the other female; both female’s now stand either side of me, both hold my arms. The male stands directly in front of me. Silence, total silence as if nothing else existed in the world. Light, brighter than one could perceive emits from the male’s eyes and shoots into my chest. I begin to rise up, both female’s float with me, the light continued to force me upwards. There is no pain, no feeling of entry, only a sereneness encompassing my soul.

And then it was over. I was back on the ground, both female’s had vanished and only the male remained. My body returned to normal, I felt cleansed but otherwise normal.

“You are now blessed with the gift; the Righteous Hand of the Saints. This gift will warn you when the demonic is near, and will devour the evil within. You are now on the path; follow it where it may lead. But know this Lazarus; when you need help the most, we will come but only twice.”

I went to ask questions but before they formed in my mind the male spirit had gone, and I was again alone in the church.

I finished my cigar, threw the stub down and ground it in with my boot. I stood up and a sudden dull pain struck my neck. I felt sick, my eyes flickered and I fell forward. I don’t remember hitting the ground.

When I came round; I lay on the cot staring up at the roof. My head pounded like the stampede of a hundred horses. The cabin was filled with subdued golden light from the burning oil lamp. I tired to get up and realised I was restrained, my arms and legs firmly tied to the cot, and a leather strap across my throat restricting my movement.

“Ah you’re awake, good. For a moment there I thought I’d hit you too hard, and that wouldn’t do, wouldn’t do at all,” said a not unfamiliar voice.

Then he came into my eye line, the fisherman.

“What the hell’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh you’ll see soon enough Lazarus.”

I struggled with my bonds as I realised what was happening, the fisherman was a demon slave; a human that serves their demonic master.

“Which one is your master?” I calmly inquired; there was little point struggling the bonds would not loosen.

“Oh you’ll see soon enough…soon enough.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later and the telltale signs arrived; the dimming of the oil lamp light, the temperature dropping sharply, the lethargic sensation of a depressive aura. The cabin door burst open, the fisherman steps back, retreating from his master’s approach. I hear the howling of the wind, the creaking and rustling of the trees, and then she walks in.

“Told you we would have that dance Lazarus,” she said with deadly calm.

It was her, the Queen of Hades; old horn head’s whore, the shadow dragon, the one from Dominic’s church. I guess she must have reincarnated the dead girl’s body after Dominic buried her.

“Hard to dance trussed up like this,” I replied.

“Yes, well, can’t have you destroying my friend now can we,” she remarked with a sweet smile.

“Brought some back up with you this time? My, I must have you scared.”

Her smile changed to a look of hatred. “No Lazarus, it is you who will be scared; scared of what you will face at the hands of the master. Care to see?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She stood next to me, leaned down real close so her lips were almost touching mine and blew. A stream of inky black smoke left her mouth and rolled over my face; I became unconscious immediately.

“Bind him to the chair,” she ordered her human lackey.

The fisherman did as bode and I came round just as he was binding my feet. I now had full view of the cabin. The Queen had brought a couple of damnations ogres with her, decaying living dead, grey of flesh and dry of blood, their stench defiled the air brutally. They stood in the doorway like clay statues awaiting their god’s bidding, their grotesque features insulting to the eyes. The fisherman grabbed my hair and forced my head up to face the Queen; she leaned close to my ear and whispered.

“I have someone who has wanted to meet you.”

She gestured to the ogres and they parted to reveal my demon. There he stood unwavering, silent, staring with eyes of putrid yellow; the Nightmare Man. He never entered the cabin, he stood there staring, sending a terror stricken shiver down my spine.

“He wants to watch,” laughed the queen.

“Hope he has a good show, I’d hate to disappoint,” I answered; I reckoned if it was going to end here and now, I had nothing to lose.

The queen sneered at the remark, and said, “Behold what awaits you Lazarus Grey.”

She waved her hand in an arching motion and a swirling cloud of gas formed by the iron stove, growing bigger with each turn until it formed the mouth of a tunnel.

“Time for a little trip to the soulless land of eternal degradation, ready Lazarus?”

“How about losing the running commentary and just do your worst or you’ll bore me to death,” I answered.

The cabin seemed to warp in various directions simultaneously then I was at the hell-mouth. I looked back to see the queen and nightmare man staring. I tried to move away but was held in place as the hell-mouth began its journey showing me what was in store. I knew I wasn’t really moving, it was all a mind trick, but it seemed so real.

The hellish tunnel was formed from the living bones of mankind, the damned embedded into the slime ridden tunnel walls. Poor tortured souls destined to wail pitiful greeting for all eternity to those who travel down to the depths of damnation.

I wasn’t moving it was more like the tunnel was moving, consuming me into its evil existence. Further and further down the tunnel I went, so many suffering souls cry as if they know what is to happen. Skinless greying bones reach out to touch, to grasp as a new life passes their way as they plead for redemption, but here god does not prevail.

A burning circle appears off in the distance, an opening to the horrors of Satan’s hell domain. Faster it rushes towards me, its heat burning, searing my flesh, unmarked yet the sensation is agonising.  I then stand at the fiery mouth, its flames flicking at me, but I do not burn, how I can for I am not here in reality.

The pit of hell, a burning furnace of terror and debauched evil, all around millions of pained souls scream and cry in complete agony. The diabolic scenes of which are too terrifying for words to encompass, it is beyond verbal description. The view centres on a central podium upon which he sits, the beast; the horned Saint of Darkness, Satan.

There he sat on his throne formed from the spines of the dead and covered in sinned angel wings, wings that have been ripped from fallen angels in battles with evil over the eons of time. Subservient minions cower and snivel eagerly at his cloven feet, waiting for droplets of consumed souls to drip from his impious lips.

Satan surrounded by his iniquitous realm of legion after legion of demonic servant waiting for their master’s command to wreak havoc upon the mortal world. The beast lifts his beastly horned skull and his eyes of incandescent fire fall upon me. At his side is a curled up form, a figure still preserved with its earthbound appearance, a female. The beast grips her hair, entwining his blackened talons and drags her head up to look at me.

My heart feels like it was savagely torn from my chest; my body weak when I saw the female was my Jooles. A snake like tongue slithers from the beast’s mouth and licks across Jooles’ pitiful face leaving a blackened scar. A solitary tear tumbled from my eye and in a rush faster than lightening I was returned to the cabin.

The fisherman yanked back my head; the queen saw the tear on my cheek and laughed. My couldn’t care less attitude turned to anger and loathing. If there was one demon I desperately  wanted to dispatch right now, it was the queen. All my past pent-up anger reared its obnoxious head; I struggled, struggled with my bonds in a desperate yet futile attempt to break free.

“Now you’ve seen where you are going Lazarus, do you fear me?” said the queen in a soft tone.

“For you I’m going to make your dispatch as painful as possible,” I threatened through gritted teeth.

She laughed of course. She held all the cards, the game was coming to an end, and I had lost.

The hell-mouth was still open. “So what, you just going to toss me down there…thought you wanted to dance?”

“Yes, yes, we must dance before you die,” she responded and grabbed the fisherman and threw him into the hell-mouth.

“Once open it has to be appeased,” she shrugged.

She looked at the nightmare man, who hadn’t moved or spoken; she waved him away with a flick of her hand and he vanished.

“So, I can’t dance if I’m trussed up like this.”

“No, but first.”

She came close, so close I could smell death on her breath. I thought she was actually going to release me but instead she again blew the inky smoke into my face. This time I didn’t black out; this time it had another effect on me. I felt lethargic, like the strength had been sucked from me. She forcefully ripped my shirt apart to expose my chest.

“I am going to make this dance last, the pain you will endure will have you begging for death,” she whispered.

“Well I always was one for a slow dance.”

It was then I heard the screech of car breaks; Dominic and Mona had arrived. The queen instantly dispatched the ogres to deal with them, and retuned her attention to me. She ran a finger down my chest, the fingernail cutting the flesh, smoke flowed from the cauterised wound as it passed  causing me to bite back an agonising cry.  Through the pain I hear the sounds of fighting outside; Dominic and Mona. The queen ignores the sounds and continues to scroll a pentagram into my chest.

“Ah, your voodoo friend and priest are experiencing difficulty,” she says with pleasure.

“They…shit…they can take care of…themselves.”

“Yes, that is why I have brought the four unfortunates up from the lake bed. I knew there was a reason to leave them there.”

“That’s the trouble with you demons, you always have to explain everything,” I laughed as blood spat from my lips.

“Still think you can survive Lazarus? Even now when I hold all the cards.”

She thrust her hand onto my chest in the centre of the bloodied pentagram; the pain was excruciating as the burning ripped at my flesh.  Suddenly she shot back and turned; Dominic and Mona were at the door. They rushed her, one swipe of her arm sent Dominic crashing into the cot. Mona blew some powered herb into the queen’s face muttering some indescribable voodoo magic mantra. It didn’t work, the queen grabbed Mona by the throat and lifted her up; Dominic hurried to try and remove my bonds, but when the queen realised she waved her hand and Dominic flew through the window, the glass shredding his throat, he was dead by the time he hit the dirt.

I heard the crunch of Mona’s neck as the queen snapped it and then threw her lifeless corpse into the corner. Both my closest friends gone and me soon to be spending eternity in pain at the hands of so many demons, at this precise moment I no longer cared.

“Seems there is no one left to help you Lazarus,” she scoffed.

“Don’t ya’s bank on it missy,” came a voice.

The queen spun round as the old storekeeper fired off two rounds from his pump action shotgun. She staggered backwards; he fired again and again. She collapsed in a heap by the cot.

“Son-bitch,” he remarked as he looked over at Mona, and then drew a knife and slashed my bonds away.

The queen’s magic was still affecting me, I had trouble standing, but I caught out the corner of my eye the queen rising.  The storekeeper must have known, he swung round, but the queen slapped the shotgun aside. For some reason the old storekeeper wasn’t fazed, he thrust the knife into the queen’s throat and ripped sideways.  The gash in the queen’s throat had the desired effect, the inner demon came gushing out as she took her true form; the black smoke shadow dragon.  The cabin wasn’t big enough to hold her demonic form and she headed outside to hover and wait above the lake.

“She won’t give up,” I said with a horse voice.

“Stay here,” he said and walked through the door.

“No wait!” I called, but he was already out and facing the shadow dragon.

I couldn’t stand by and let the old guy take her on alone, he may have been good with a shotgun and knife, may have not even been fazed by her true appearance, but I knew he was no match for her. How wrong could I be?

I staggered through the door just in time to see the shadow dragon swoop down on the storekeeper, and what happened then surprised even me. A brilliant blue-white light shot out from the storekeeper’s eyes, a light that punched through the shadow dragon making her writhe, and emit a harrowing scream. The light continued to assault her, disintegrating each part it touched until she dropped and dispersed into the water.

“Who are you?” I called as I staggered forward.

As the storekeeper turned from the lake his image changed, changed to the form of bright eyes, one of my guardian saints.  She walked towards me in her radiance; the lake seemed to glow from her aura.

“You!” I mumbled.

“We said one of us would come at your most dangerous time,” she answered in a voice that was so comforting.

When she was close enough to me she reached out, I suddenly felt stronger; the wounds and pentagram etched into my chest vanished.

“Is that it, she’s gone for good?” I asked.

Bright eyes shook her head, “unfortunately we cannot vanquish the demon, only you can achieve that Lazarus. I merely sent her back to the darkness, but your paths will cross again.”

“Then all this has been for nothing? Dominic, Mona?”

“Everything in life has its price Lazarus.”

“The price was too costly,” I barked in anger.

“Yes, I agree,” she replied and then gestured to behind me.

I turned round to see Dominic and Mona standing at the cabin door, both alive and smiling. I turned back to bright eyes, but she had gone.

“Well, Laz honey, I think we’re just about done here sugar,” Mona said, and added, “Let’s go home.”