It had taken the cat, and that had made it stronger. The life of a teenage girl would be most prized and would bring its strength to a new level. The girl was still alive. It had waited until the time was right. Now that the search party had left the woods and the police were concentrating on Route 102, it had the chance it was waiting for. He might not be able to stop the monster, or even stop the pawn it was using tonight, but if he could snatch the girl away, he might at least buy a little more time-and a child’s life.
This time he didn’t take the rifle, but stuffed the Beretta into his waistband, just in case. It wouldn’t have any effect on the entity, but a.45 caliper hollow-point could sure do some damage to its human helpers.
Dovecrest stiffened his shoulders and went out the back door. I am getting way too old for this, he thought, as he walked into the woods, relying only on his instincts to guide him. He knew where it would happen-he had always known that. And now he knew when it would happen as well, at least this first installment of horror, anyway. There would be more versions after this, new and improved versions, but he couldn’t worry about that now. One thing at a time.
He picked his way through the woods as effortlessly as if he were crossing his own bedroom. He had lived here for more than a lifetime, and had made it his business to know this land. It, and the knowledge of what was about to happen, were his only advantages.
The altar stone wasn’t very far away in terms of mileage-only about a half mile as the crow flies-but it was centuries away in terms of time. Dovecrest could almost feel himself traveling back in time as he walked. He felt the decades, the centuries peel away as he returned to a more primitive time, a time when good and evil were stripped of their trappings and laid bare for the world to see. A world where evil existed in its most pure, unadulterated form, not camouflaged by politics or culture or religion. This was a world where it dared to show itself as it was, without shame and without excuse, a world where it did not hide or justify its existence, but challenged good men to stare it in the eye.
As Dovecrest made his journey, he felt some of the old power returning to him, and even as he did he realized that he had made one critical mistake. He had failed to purify himself properly and make peace with God. How could one do battle against evil without seeking the protection of its counterpart? It had been easier in the old times, when worship was part of the daily life. Now, not even his own people believed anymore. And the white man was not much better. Sure, he made his weekly pilgrimage to whatever church he attended. He worshipped faithfully and then returned to his everyday life of lying, cheating, stealing….
But it was too late for such thoughts now, and he felt himself weakening beneath his own doubt, even as he felt the strength of the entity growing near. He was close to the altar now, and he could feel its presence radiating throughout this place. The white man was strange, he thought-he equated graveyards with supernatural power. That wasn’t to say there was no power in those places of death. But the truly powerful, once they were set free, preferred to infest and infect places of life and power, places where they felt strong and secure. This was such a place, and now it was cursed with this awful and awesome power, which would only grow stronger with each new death.
Dovecrest heard the sound of voices ahead and he knew he was near. He stopped and moved forward slowly to the edge of the clearing. He slipped behind the trunk of an ancient, withered oak tree and watched.
There were thirteen of them, as he had expected, carrying torches and dancing naked around the ancient stone. It would have almost looked comical if he didn’t know what was happening. It was the kind of thing they would make documentaries about, and show them on cable TV, and people would laugh and say, “look at those idiots, can you imagine!” Only this was not funny, and although much of it was little more than a silly ritual to entertain the thirteen, who, of course, needed carnal pleasures for their own fulfillment, the essence of it all was very real and very serious.
The realness of it all became very clear when he saw the naked body of the teenage girl being laid out on the altar stone. Dovecrest hunkered down behind the tree and waited for his chance. If it came, the opportunity would be swift and fleeting.
5
After dinner, Erik used the excuse that he was going out to the plaza to check on news of the missing girl, and then he went to see Dovecrest. He actually did stop at the plaza, which was now a makeshift command post, of sorts. But they told him what he already knew-there were no new leads in the case. He looked for Sheriff Roy and couldn’t find him-he was going to show him the pictures of the altar stone and ask him about them. But he did find Pastor Mark, who had been offering some comfort to the missing girl’s mother earlier.
“Erik, I wanted to thank you for your help last night,” Mark said.
“Oh, it’s nothing. It could be my kid out there.”
“These are very sad times. Very sad times.”
Erik made some small talk as he tried to figure out how to ask the pastor about the altar stone. Finally, he decided to just jump in.
“Pastor, do you have a minute? There’s something important that I’d like to share with you?”
“Why sure, Erik. What is it?”
Erik led him over to his car and took the folder containing the picture and the article from the front seat.
“Pastor, I’ve been doing some research and I think something very strange and unsettling is going on here. I’m not sure what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, these woods…. Here. Look at this stuff I found in the library.”
Pastor Mark looked at the picture and read the article, then the retraction that followed later.
“What are you saying, Erik? That this stuff is real?”
Erik went on to explain what had happened to Todd, and what the boy had told him. Then he told him about Steve Harvey, the radio talk show host, and his story.
“I don’t know if any of these things are connected or not, or how it all adds up, but even the sheriff thinks there have been some weird goings on here. And now we have a missing girl.”
Mark rubbed his forehead for a long moment. “So you think this…thing, this rock is out there in the woods somewhere? Why hasn’t anyone found it?”
“Because I don’t think it wants us to find it. Look, I know this stuff all sounds crazy and I’m probably being paranoid because my son got lost in the woods a couple nights ago and now this teenage girl has disappeared. But I had to share this with someone. If I’m wrong you’d at least be the guy to help me out.”
“Well, I am from the old school, the conservative school….”
“And what I’m saying is ‘New Age’, right?”
“On the contrary. The Bible teaches that Satan exists and that there are demons. That was true in ancient times. Why wouldn’t it be true today?”
“So you think this is possible?”
“Possible, yes. I’ll admit that I’m not convinced yet, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just means I haven’t been convinced yet.”
“So what should we do?”
“I think we should begin by seeing if this altar stone really does exist.”
“If it does, I know one man who could lead us to it. Johnny Dovecrest. I’m sure he knows something about all this.”
Mark nodded. “Then let’s go pay him a visit.”
6
Seti watched his followers dance naked around the altar. There was Rhonda, the dark-haired one, so pregnant that she might burst open at any second. She disgusted him now, but the brat might have a use. And there was Marion and Monique, the twins. Fine young bodies and great in bed-especially together. Crissy, the blonde, with the perky, upturned breasts and the expert tongue. Shanika, the black one with the hard body. And Rosea, the brunette, plump and juicy.