“That’s a lovely way to talk to your new master, whore daughter of Satan. You can feel it happening, can’t you? Your connection to your old master is already broken. We can fix that right now, though,” the priest said.
“I think I’ll start with you first. Harold. Troy. Spread her out on the altar.” He waited a moment, and then rolled his eyes as the other two men hesitated. He sighed. “You’ll have her when I’m done with her, of course, but it’s necessary for the spell!”
“Ooohhh,” the two men nodded. They quickly set to undoing her chains.
“You’re going to rape her?!” the blonde gasped.
“Both of you, before I’m through,” the priest grinned.
Oh, fuck that noise, Alex decided. He retreated back a bit, frantically trying to figure out what to do. Call the cops, definitely, but by the time showed up…Alex frowned. He couldn’t waste time talking to them anyway. He quickly found a phone in the foyer, picked it up off the receiver, dialed 911 and left it off the hook. The cops would get there when they got there… hopefully in time to rescue my stupid ass.
Dropping the backpack, Alex fished around in his pockets for the pepper spray he’d brought along just in case. It wasn’t enough, though. He had heard that crazy people weren’t always put down by pepper spray. What if he missed? What if the canister jammed?
He looked into the side rooms. Like most funeral chapels, this one had extra small rooms for private conversations and grieving and such, but comfortable chairs and boxes of tissues wouldn’t be of much use. He soon found a fireplace, complete with a set of fireplace tools. Alex rushed in and grabbed the long, heavy iron poker. It would have to do.
This is fucking nuts, he thought. I’m going to get caught. I’m going to die. If I hadn’t pulled this stupid stunt I wouldn’t know this was even going on…
One of the women cried out in terrible pain.
I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do something.
At the far end of the room lay an altar desecrated not only by candles and random spooky cultist ritual junk but also by the bloodied, dark-haired woman. The chains on her arms now ran around the back legs of the altar. Her captors kept her legs apart with sheets tied from her ankles to the front table legs.
The priest removed his cassock in front of her. The others stood by while the chained blonde shouted, “There’s no turning back from this, you batshit freak! You’ll be damned forever!”
“Troy, hold the cup for a second. Harold, shut her up,” the priest grumbled. The whip-wielder stepped behind the blonde, yanking her hair back hard while the priest cast aside his cassock and undid his belt buckle.
Alex couldn’t think of a better moment to ambush three guys than when their backs were turned and one had just dropped his pants.
“I’ll see you burn,” the woman on the altar snarled at the priest.
“Stop!!” the blonde screamed.
Under this distraction, Alex quickly covered the few feet between his hiding spot and Harold with the fire-poker coiled up to strike. He brought it down across the back of Harold’s head with all the torque he could muster. The curved head of the poker struck solidly across Harold’s skull, sending him reeling to the floor. The blonde’s scream ended in sharp surprise. Alex pulled the spray canister from his pocket and kept going.
“The blood anoints your master! It protects from your lies and your curses! You feel the master’s pleasure as your pleasure! You shall serve and protect the anointed one!” The priest reached out for the cup-but Troy, looking backward at the curious sound, faltered.
“Boss!” he yelled just before getting a face full of pepper spray. Reflexively, Troy lashed out with the only thing in his hand. The cup of blood splashed across Alex’s face and chest, bonking him on the cheek. Troy went down screaming.
The priest turned but stumbled with his pants still around his ankles. He narrowly avoided the second blast of spray, but even the stench of it made him choke. The priest fell backwards, bumping into the altar and then hitting the ground. Alex kicked him hard in the groin and stomped on his side.
The pepper spray ran dry. Alex dropped the canister, heaved back with the fire poker and swung it down on the priest’s head. His awkward strike hit more shoulder than skull. Alex wiped some of the spilled blood from his eyes and wound up for another blow.
That was when Harold barreled into him from the side. “Kill ya, you little fuck!” he growled, pushing Alex’s head down onto the altar and groping for his neck. Alex groped too, fumbling around for a way to hurt the man. He finally found the thug’s crotch and grabbed as viciously as he could. Harold roared in pain, giving Alex the chance to shove him off.
Alex hit Harold again with the fire poker, this time squarely in the base of the skull. The older man staggered to the ground.
“I can’t see!” Troy wailed, blindly crawling away from the action.
“Free me!” both women yelled. “No, me first!” they both yelled again when they realized they had spoken simultaneously. “Not her, me!”
“Stop!” the priest groaned, trying to get up. “Don’t know what you’re… doing…”
Not stopping to say anything witty, Alex punted the priest’s head like a football. He then turned his frantic attention to the two women. Chains ran from hooks in the ceiling to the blonde’s shackles, with too little slack for her feet to touch the floor. The other woman struggled to keep her head up to watch, allowing Alex to see her wounds. Two round gouges marred her forehead, each slightly below the scalp not far out of line from her eyes. Blood and bruises marred her face.
Alex gasped in shock at how badly the women were hurt. He rushed to the one on the altar. The manacles weren’t locked, so he tried to unlatch the one on her left wrist. The pin keeping her manacles latched did not come free easily. Without all of his adrenaline, he might not have been able to move it at all.
“Hurry,” the captive urged. “I can help you if I can just get… free…”
With one wrist finally freed, Alex looked to the men. Troy was almost to his feet, blindly, as was Harold. Not wanting to let them regroup, Alex shoved the one into the other. Both tumbled through the big pile of ashes near the hallway. Candles and sacrificial remains clattered across the floor.
“No!” Alex heard the priest gasp.
“Yesss!” the woman on the altar hissed, rising partially with one arm freed. She inhaled deeply and blew a long stream of fire from her mouth at her tormentor. The priest shrieked as he was engulfed. His burning form soon flailed about in panic.
“Holy shit!” Alex blurted. Though fatigued and injured, the woman watched with a frightening grin.
“Get me down,” said the blonde. “She-we won’t hurt you, but we have to move!”
Alex didn’t think twice. He wrapped one arm around the blonde’s waist, heaving her up a bit to create some slack. By the time he unlatched her manacles, the priest crashed into a far wall, knocking candles and bookshelves over onto the floor. Fire caught along the curtains and walls.
“I only need a moment,” the blonde gasped, slumping in Alex’s arms. “Leave me. Get her off the altar.”
Alex obeyed, allowing the blonde to sink to the floor while he rushed to the other woman. The heat and stench from the burning priest, now surely dead, were overwhelming. Alex pushed past his fear and revulsion to untie her ankles.
“My hand, mort…mas…no,” the woman groaned. Apparently breathing fire had taken the last of her strength. She couldn’t twist enough to reach her chained wrist with her free hand. Alex reached over her naked chest and fought to unlatch the iron around her wrists.
“I’ll get you out, you’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay” Alex said in a rush, trying to convince himself as much as her. With her hand freed, he pulled her upright, holding her to him and moving away from the altar. He turned straight around to see Troy and Harold on their feet, staggered but recovered enough to fight. “Oh, shit,” Alex gulped, seeing the bloody, wavy dagger in Troy’s hand.