How long had this guy had to plan this thing? At least a few weeks, although she’d faced down the demon six months ago, so maybe a lot longer. All that time and still the best he could do was ‘let the Undying come back to life’. Surely the contradiction in that was obvious, even to him?
She groaned, gripping the barrier as she peered through. The four crazies with knives were stood directly behind the sacrifices, gripping their arm or shoulder to hold them steady. Lara still knelt straight-backed and staring, but her lips twitched and trembled, face threatening at any moment to crumple. Scarlet’s knuckles turned white on the iron railing.
Another of the sacrifices lost it, curling up and screaming and thrashing around and three of the crazies broke from their circle to grab her and pin her down. Scarlet turned away, unable to watch, and scrambled back across the floor to the book.
She passed Martin on the way, sword in his hand, face grim. ‘I shall be ready, in case the spell does not work quickly enough. Don’t worry about Lara.’
She was about to reply when a sound stopped her dead. It was like the THX boom that began the start of movies, only all the notes were wrong, and made her head want to leave the country and find a nice quiet beach somewhere on the coast of Mexico. It was followed by the sound of wind, rushing through narrow corridors and scraping dead leaves across bare stone.
It smelled like rot and age and her hands shook as she turned to the spell book. She picked it up and knelt among the ingredients.
A shadow filled the top of the church, dense and impenetrable. She could feel him from her vantage point, feel the disdain. It was like standing at the front of the class, every other student sat, following their successful answers, whilst you waited, hopeless, knowing you were never going to get it right.
It was like that, only with added threat of death if you got it wrong. Or maybe like, a complete weekend detention. Without internet access.
She shivered, and watched her breath emerge into the suddenly freezing air. The sound came again, a surge from beneath her feet that made her head spin and her stomach turn.
She chanted, the words coming slow to start, then flowing as the shadow and the smell and noise drifted into the background. Her voice deepened, as though someone else was speaking through her, and a face appeared, floating above the words.
He was young and hot, and looked like Lara, only with messier hair and wild eyes. She wasn’t reading anymore, the words coming from somewhere else. Her fingers tingled, the static running up and down her back, and when she put a hand to the stone it crackled.
A different sound broke her concentration for a moment, and she looked up to see the gate at the front of the chapel swing open, Martin stepping through with sword held high. Beyond, the crazies were turning to face him, knives in hand.
Beyond them she saw Lara, alive and looking straight back at her. Her girlfriend’s eyes widened as she stared, but her smile was rich and filled Scarlet. She glanced back at the book, the words still spilling from her.
The sound came again, powerful enough to rattle her chest and she gasped. With it came words.
‘I AM RETURNED. BOW, SERVANTS, AND GIVE TO ME MY BLOOD’
Two of the crazies turned away from Martin to the girls, and he shouted, charging at them with his sword before him.
Scarlet chanted, but the words were pulled from her lips as a wind blew, filling the church and whipping round and round. Her hair flew about and the ingredients slid across the floor.
She chanted quicker and closed her eyes. She pictured Elt and found him just outside the church. He was waiting, and the power surged through him, and into her. She gasped as every part of her sang and lifted. The place below her stomach grew hot and she moaned, Lara’s face filling her mind.
She panted, the fine hairs on her arms standing straight up, the words falling from her faster than she could speak. When the noise came again, there was another note to it, a dis-chord beyond the dissonance, and the voice howled.
‘SOMETHING BLOCKS ME. BRING ME MY BLOOD.’
The clash of steel sounded, but it came from far away. She could feel every single fibre in her body, speaking to her, rushing and rushing. Then the chanting ended and the ingredients that were scattered around the chapel were consumed, bursts of flame reducing them to ash.
The wind blew faster, throwing dust in her face and she opened her eyes in time to see the lanterns and torches gutter and go out, blackness descending upon the church. The sound came one final time, a scream so agonised she wrapped her arms around herself, spell book dropping to the floor, and howled.
Her voice was matched by others, a choir of utter desolation, that silenced as quickly as it had begun, and then there was nothing.
Final Instalment Wednesday 26th March 2014
