Action/Thriller

177

Semjaza: The Apocalypse of Silence is the second book in the CURSE OF MESPHISTO’S SEED trilogy. The apocalypse chronicles the death of Elliott and the birth of Lifthrasir. It reveals the plans of Mesphisto, the trial of Mark Talbot and Josh Riley and the rise of The Cult of the Wayward Souls as the new age religion of choice. Reviewers called book one a fantastic apocalyptic thriller, a hellish battle between good and evil, a haunting journey. The journey truly begins in book two with its jinns, doppelgangers, necromancy, Roman gods and a certain devil named Michael Orcus with a penchant for beautiful women. The landscapes of hell are more brutal, the action more furious and this time only Nox, the goddess of death and her acolyte, the black cat can decide the final outcome.

 The Curse of Mesphisto’s Seed
BOOK TWO: THE APOCALYPSE OF SILENCE
By William P. Haynes


“Did you know that before the advent of man, before God showed favor to this upright beast, that the sparrow was as white as the dove?” the devil asks them. Josh looks over at Mesphisto who is adorned in a judge’s robe. He sits behind an ornate wooden bench as he speaks. “God presented the sparrow with a special task. It was to carry the souls of the newly departed to their heavenly reward.” The devil ends his speech and laughs. The sound cascades over the bleak wastelands like the snap of a bullwhip. The chains that bind him prevent him from touching her but Mark Talbot reaches out for Anne. Peggy turns from the devil and faces Mark. Her face is a mask of disbelief and horror. She trembles as the image of Mesphisto becomes her only vision.
Mark whispers within Peggy’s mind, as he stands there helpless, fighting against the bonds that hold him. Telepathy is his sole shaman’s gift of magic not stolen by the devil.
{“We are alive for a reason and that is to our advantage,” he whispers inside Peggy’s mind. “You and I have our faith; the devil has only his hatred.”} Mesphisto slams his gavel down upon the bench.
“Mark, to speak during my oratorical is rude even for a captive audience,” the devil warns him. “Where was I anyway? Yes, the sparrow was as snow but after eons of carrying men’s souls its purity was defiled by the dearth of good men!” Elliott and the wolf move from the shadows and stand by the side of the devil. “My son, would you care to finish the parable of the sparrow?” Mesphisto steps down from the bench.
“Yes father but I fear we waste our time on ones such as these,” Elliott answers.
“Still, it amuses me to do so,” Mesphisto responds, as his tongue lashes out like a great snake until it is mere inches from Peggy. Her body feels faint but it will not fall. All she can do is tremble before his decadence in fear.
“The sparrow was pure when humanity was unsullied but over time Cain slew Able and man waged war against man,” Elliott explains. “The tiny sparrow darkened and wept in its flight and God took pity on the sparrow’s tears. He sent his only son to redeem men’s souls but humanity took Jesus in name only and ignored his teachings of peace and brotherhood.” The devil steps in front of his son and points an accusing finger at Josh and the others.
“You did not heed Him when He said to turn the other cheek, you built better weapons and waged deadlier wars,” the devil says, as he continues the story for his son.
As he speaks, the magenta skies explode in flames, raining indigo blue sparks on all below. The damned shriek; Mark and his friends are driven to their knees from the pain. The raging fires burn and char. Their bodies blister from the searing heat before healing over again. Overhead, the timeless flames continue to rage until the devil waves his talon hand and the inferno ceases to exist.
“You did not listen when He told you to love your brother, you murdered under the banner of heaven, secure in the noble righteousness of your crusade,” Mesphisto roars. “That, foolish child, is how the sparrow became as dark as the pitch of infinity!” The devil walks over and frees Mark from his chains.
He stands before the fallen angel facing his judgment. The dark lord’s hand slashes out cutting him across his face. Josh struggles against his bonds but they only become tighter. He watches the blood run down Mark’s chin.
“Time now for the rebuttal,” the devil says contemptuously. He walks among them with deadly grace. “I believe we’ve met before, my dear.” The devil takes Peggy’s hand in his.
“The wars we have fought were to protect the innocent from harm!” Mark says defiantly. The devil moves back to his bench and towers over them.
“Lies,” the dark one bellows. “You live inside your lily white towers while millions die on the continent of your birth. Your prisons overflow with those who are different. You herd the poor into slums flooded with the poison of your drugs. No, your souls are mine!”
“That’s not true of all of us!” Mark screams out.
The devil steps down from the bench and stands by his son. Elliott wears the uniform of a court officer as they move over to Mark.
“Take them away, guilty as charged,” he commands. In a flash of brimstone and fire the courtroom is adjourned.
In the midst of the devil’s proud desolation, a prison stands. It is as grey and bleak as the wastelands that surround it. After being stripped of their bonds they are locked up inside its hallways by Elliott.
“This wing is special,” he proclaims, as he shuts and locks the cells. Josh throws himself at the door trying in vain to reach Elliott. His arms claw wildly through the barricade just inches from the son of the devil. “Down the hall you will meet our executioner, welcome to death row!” No spells work for Mark in this prison and so he kicks at the bars as hard as he can. His foot, crashing against the metal, echoes throughout the prison. Elliott turns smugly and walks down the dimly lit hallway.
“The women will die first,” Elliott says scornfully, as he leaves. Josh steps away and leans back, massaging his shoulder as he swears under his breath.
“Nice try,” Mark says. “We better think of something fast or we’re done for!” Peggy slumps down to the floor of the prison and weeps. Anne kneels down and places her arm around Peggy’s shoulder.
“Mark’s right, it’s going to take all of us, working together, to get out of this,” she tells her, as the older woman continues to cry. Her face is pale with fright. She looks up pleadingly to Anne for help. Slowly, Peggy rises to her feet and walks across the cage with its two cots and thick iron bars.
“I’m afraid; I don’t want to die here,” Peggy whispers softly.
“Nobody’s going to die here,” Josh says as he watches her from his cell across the narrow passageway. Two doors down, Mark Talbot sits lotus style on his cot trying to reclaim the powers the devil has stolen. Josh reaches into the inside pocket of the tuxedo jacket he has rented for Mark’s wedding. He pulls out a neatly wrapped gift.
“I hope that you and Anne don’t mind if I open this,” he says. He rips the fancy paper apart and holds an object about the size of a cigarette case in his hand. Josh moves over to the iron door and plays with the lock.
“What are you doing?” she asks, as she notices him fiddling with the door.
“He’s trying to bust us out of here,” Mark answers. “Our wedding present was a set of lock-picks!” Josh pushes the door open as quietly as he can and steps outside.
“Would you rather have gotten another toaster?” he asks her.
He frees them from their gloomy cells and they walk out into the desolate passageway. Josh leads them to a door marked simply, STAIRWELL and yanks it open. A jet stream of hot air forces them back against the wall. The power of the winds erupting is greater than that of a tornado. The oxygen is ripped from the hallway and their lungs gasp for air. While the others lie immobilized, trapped and helpless, Josh moves forward toward the aperture. {“We are the winds of the furies,”} a voice warns.
He stumbles through the gale until he reaches the doorway. Debris hurtles in, swept along by the gusts. His hand closes around the handle of the door and he pulls with all of his strength. The winds cease and he falls. It is as if an unseen hand has plucked him from where he stands.
“No!” Peggy yells out. Mark catches his breath at last, walks over to the stairwell, and looks straight ahead. There is only the complete gloom beyond that stretches out endlessly. Bits of light swirl and dance like water going through a funnel. Mark reaches out and closes the door before facing the two women.
“He’s gone,” Mark says softly, as he turns and walks off. Anne falls back up against the wall and slowly sinks to the floor. Mark reaches down for the case of lock-picks that have wedged themselves into a crack in the wall. He turns them over in his hands as Peggy steps closer to him. They look at the case and then at each other and quietly move down the now still hallway.

Josh is conscious of who he is as he plummets through the maelstrom. The ride along the tempest ends with the voice of the furies. {“You have only to choose,”} they whisper. It is 1941 and he is home in Topeka, Kansas. Josh is ten years old and playing out in front of his house with his toy soldiers. The sky darkens overhead and the winds start to roar. Then there is only silence, deadly silence and the child recalls what his father had warned him about tornadoes. Josh leaves his toys behind and races for the safety of the storm shelter in the backyard. His young heart pounds in his chest.
He has just fastened the bolt across the thick wooden door when it touches down. A vortex of fury and malice, this whirlwind tears apart the Riley’s farmhouse. Then it moves on destroying everything in its path. This juggernaut is a nihilist of utter destruction and the young boy cowers in his safe haven.
The door rattles and shakes on the shelter but it somehow holds together. The tornado tosses debris for miles around. It rips the roof off of a nearby horse barn and spins it in the air. The crossbeams come crashing down in front of the shelter door. Josh cowers in the limited space and prays. In his fear, the child hasn’t even noticed the darkness but night has descended and now the shelter is pitch- black.
His small hands tremble as he lights the kerosene lantern. The light casts shadows across the room that flicker menacingly on the wall. The boy thinks of his dad and remembers. His job with the railroad sometimes keeps him away for days at a time. The boy gathers up his courage and steps up to the door. He pulls the bolt free and tries to force it open. The rubble piled against it holds it fast. He picks up the lantern and walks over to a small cot. The young boy cries.
On the night of the fourth day, the child kneels before a tiny table in the cramped shelter. The wavering glow of the lantern illuminates a picture of Jesus that is taped to the far wall.
“Why won’t you answer me? Where’s my dad?” he yells, as he reaches for the picture to tear it up. The child wants to make God pay for abandoning him there. It is then that he hears a voice speak, a man’s voice, but he knows it is his own voice that somehow whispers to him. He kneels down before the picture of Jesus and prays.
As he asks for forgiveness, he listens to the voice. {“Do not give up on your faith and you will be saved!” it says to him.} The child stands up and runs over to the door. He hears men talking right outside of the shelter. One of the men is his father.
“Come on Sam, just one more pull and she’s free,” a man says. The door of his tomb pulls open and sunlight floods into the room. Josh squints in the sudden brilliance, reaching up for the hand that stretches down toward him. Sam Riley bends down and picks Josh up in his arms.
“Dad, Dad, it was Jesus, He saved me,” the boy tells his father.
“Come on son, your mom’s at the Johnson’s place, she’s been crying for four days straight,” Sam says, as he turns away so Josh won’t see his tears.
As his father holds him, a whirlwind comes along and tears him from his dad’s arms. He spins through the cascading multihued rainbow like a rag doll, tumbling until the vertigo makes his mind go blank. When it ends, Josh steps forward and is back inside the prison. He stands, leaning up against the wall, as they watch him.
Anne is still sitting on the floor. Mark drops the lock-picks he is still holding when he sees him. They land without making a sound. Peggy runs over to Josh and throws her arms around him.
“My God, I was afraid that I’d lost you forever,” she says, as the tears run freely down her face. Mark and Anne walk up to him and just stare.
“What happened to you?” Anne asks.
“I don’t know exactly,” he explains, as he shakes his head slightly. “I was back in Kansas trapped in a storm shelter. I guess I must have been about ten when that happened. The only thing that was different is this time I didn’t lose my faith!”
Peggy moves closer and takes his hand in hers. They walk a little bit further down the hallway and come to a wall. There is a metal door painted yellow with a red exit sign overhead that glows brightly in the murky passageway.
“Better let me take this one Josh,” Mark tells him.
He pulls the door open and a torrent of water floods them. In his mind, Mark hears the song of the siren as she calls to him. Her voice is the song of the seafarer, the mariner, the tune that plays before a watery grave. He swims out of the doorway and the ocean ceases her flow. Josh runs to the door and calls out but there is only the dusk and stillness waiting.
“How long was I gone for before?” he asks, as he continues to look for him.
“A minute, maybe even less than that,” Peggy tells him, as she walks over. Twenty minutes pass by and Josh lets out a sigh. He stares at his watch, out the doorway, and then down the vacant hallway.
“We have to accept the fact that Mark might not make it back,” he says worriedly. “We’ve got to move, sooner or later they’re bound to come looking for us. One thing I know about Mark is that he can take care of himself!”
“I don’t want to leave Mark behind. I’m staying!” Anne informs him defiantly.
“Honey, Josh is right,” Peggy says warmly. “Mark would expect us all to go on without him. If you do stay behind, promise me that you’ll be careful and not take any foolish chances.” Josh casts a nervous look behind him as he and Peggy walk off.
The Atlantic plays with the small pleasure craft like a cat with a mouse. Tropical storm Shannon is flexing its might by taking down every boat in its path for miles around. The S.S. Montgomery is the last vessel in her sight and thirteen-year-old Mark Talbot is doing his best to secure the broken mast. His father is at the rudder trying to guide the Montgomery over the carnage of the waves and out to calmer seas. She rides up the side of the swell and it looks to Andrew Talbot like she is going to make it. The Atlantic takes the Montgomery like so much flotsam and tosses her back down on its surface. The hull cracks with a rending sound and the ocean floods the lower deck. He releases the rudder and the ocean snaps it and spits it back at the vessel. Andrew seizes hold of the becket and makes his way over to Mark. He carries his son over to the cabins as Mark’s ghost reaches his mother’s side
“Mark, I need you to be brave and wait right here while I get your mother out,” Andrew tells his son. He dives down into the shady waters that have overcome the craft, searching the cabins below deck for his wife. He finds her clutching an empty oxygen tank. Cradling his wife’s body in his arms, he swims back up and lays her across the deck. He administers CPR while Mark watches, tears streaming down both of their faces.
“Breathe, damn you breathe,” he yells over and over. Andrew lowers his head and slowly stands. He walks toward the rails, shaking his head and crying.
“Dad, don’t!” Mark screams, as he observes his father climbing overboard. His father stands with one hand on the railing and looks back at him before he leaps. “Dad, Mom, don’t leave me.” As if the sea hears and understands, it suddenly grows calm. The brigantine lilts but she does not go under. He falls to his knees on the deck and raises his eyes toward heaven. “Why Lord, why?” he asks, as he cries.
The boy hears a voice that he knows somehow to be his own voice. {“Do not give up your faith!”} He stands and walks across the deck until he reaches the bow. Mark Talbot closes his eyes and a whirlwind swirls about him. When he opens his mind to see, he is back inside the prison. The hallway is empty and he calls out Josh’s name. Anne had waited nearly an hour for him before running away to catch up with Josh. Mark’s voice echoes throughout the prison but Josh is climbing down a winding staircase and cannot hear him. Josh leans over the railing on the landing where he stands and drops a coin. He listens carefully for the sound it makes hitting the ground but instead hears only the complete and total silence. They keep descending until they reach another landing and here they stop their descent and wait.
We should turn around and go back for him,” Anne pleads. “It isn’t right to leave Mark behind! If I hadn’t caught up with you before you discovered this hallway, I never would have found you. Mark might not be so lucky.”
“He’s probably following us already and if we turn around we could miss him,” Josh warns her. “I don’t think Mark would want us to risk our lives heading back toward Mesphisto.” The devil watches from his well by the throne, his eyes beaming with malice.
“They are stronger than I had believed possible,” the devil whispers. Mesphisto pauses to stare into the pool and watch Mark search for his friends.
“I had thought that by now one of them would have broken and joined us. Still, there are the other doors,” the devil tells him with a haunting menace.
“Is it time yet to begin the hunt?” Elliott asks.
“No, I sense the young girl to be the weakest of them all and the passageway looms before her,” Mesphisto responds. The wolf by Elliott’s side howls, its cry a mixture of both pleasure and pain. “Come and watch with me my son, for their hour is soon to toll.” They kneel before the waters and stare as Anne moves toward the door on the landing. In the pool of water they see Josh standing behind her as he listens for the second coin he has dropped to strike the ground.
“How much further down do these stairs go?” Peggy wonders, as she follows behind them.
“I honestly don’t know,” Josh answers. “It looks like the only direction left to go is down until we hit bottom, if there is a bottom that is.”
“You two do what you want; I’m going back for Mark!” Anne yells out suddenly. Before either of them can stop her she reaches over and pulls open a door marked: FOURTH LEVEL: RESTRICTED ACCESS. There is a wailing like the banshee of ancient Ireland and Josh and Peggy are felled. He feels a trickle of blood run from his ear but Josh fights back the pain. Reaching through the now opened doorway, he screams out her name. It is as if he were staring into the fading twilight of time without end. The silence of the prison roars like Heimdal’s trumpet.
Josh stands helplessly on the landing as his voice echoes eerily back. Peggy reaches over and shakes him.
“She’s going to be okay, I just know it,” she says calmly. “We’ll just wait here for her awhile!”

It is 1975 and Anne is seven years old. She is wheeling her doll down the front steps of the house on Brower Avenue with her best friend, Mary.
“Honey, I want you to come inside now and get ready for bed. It’ll be getting dark soon,” Cathy calls out to her from the doorway. For a brief moment, Anne recalls being a grown woman and wonders how she could be there. She hears herself meekly saying, “Be right in mom.” She wheels her doll into the house and they walk upstairs to where her mother has prepared her a bubble bath. Anne gets undressed and into the tub and Cathy gently washes her hair.
“I know it isn’t the same honey since grandpa came to live with us but it’s only for a little while longer,” Cathy tells her, as she washes the soap from her eyes. She brings her in her favorite bunny pajamas and makes certain that she brushes her teeth. Cathy carries her into her bedroom and tucks her into bed.
“I love you this much,” Cathy says holding her hands wide open.
“I love you too, mommy,” she says, as she watches Cathy snap on the nightlight, close the door, and leave. She listens to the sound of Cathy’s footsteps as she descends the staircase to her bedroom on the first floor. Anne sits up and says her prayers aloud. “Please bless my mommy, God, and don’t let Grandpa into my room tonight,” the little girl prays.
It starts the way it always does, ever since her grandfather had come to live with them that summer. The old man howls at the rising moon. He is in the bedroom next to hers and as he cries out she can hear him stumbling around in the darkness. She prays again as she pulls the covers over her head and pretends to be asleep. The old man enters the hallway yelling at voices only he can hear. Anne listens to the sound of his lumbering footsteps as he marches up and down the hallway. He shakes violently as he stands outside of her door. The old man lifts his leathery face up and then howls once more. She is crying as she hides beneath her blanket.
“Please Jesus, please help me, make him go away,” she pleads.
Her small frame quivers beneath the white sheets as she lies there as still as she can. She listens to the sound of the doorknob turning and feels her heart pounding like it is about to burst. Her mouth opens and she tries to scream but she can’t get a sound to pass by her lips. Anne’s future self observes it all, as if it were only a bad dream. The old man walks in and heads straight for the child’s bed. The girl wants to scream for Cathy but can’t. Even under the covers she can smell the foul odor of his breath as he comes closer. She lies there pretending, some nights even wishing, that she were dead. She prays and prays for the old man’s visits to stop but no one hears her prayers. His dirty hands are touching the sheets and she tries desperately to scream, to wake Cathy up, and tell her but she never does find the courage to inform her mother. The ritual of the old man and his nightly visits will continue until he is sent away to a mental institution. She prays to God to make the old man die and it is on one of those nights that she hears a voice.
{“Do not lose your faith, everything will be okay!”} The voice whispers and she somehow knows that the voice is her own. Anne gets out of bed and runs to the door. She flings it open and races out. Anne is back in the prison on the landing. Josh and Peggy are gone.
“You were wrong father, she didn’t break,” Elliott says, as he stares into the well.
“She heads for yet another door, she will lose faith,” the devil warns him. The sky overhead darkens even further. It becomes the purest shade of jet. Silver streaks of lightning pummel across the wastelands and the cries of the damned arise in a horrible shriek of terror. Mesphisto is a warden without mercy and the wailing of those condemned only makes their eternal punishment all the more horrific. Rivers of fire pour over the banks to scorch all who stand helplessly in their path. Streaks of lightning strike down deformed humans who fall upon the ground to char and burn. Mesphisto transforms them to their original flesh and blood bodies and they beg for an ending from the pain. The devil walks among them, taunting and laughing at their misery. He stands before each of them holding death in his talon hands in the shape of a black snake. All those who suffer reach out to touch this death, to plead for its bite. Mesphisto crushes the snake’s skull and tosses the writhing body at their feet. Hell is the devil’s barrens and God listens not to the pleas of evil men. The devil himself is a bitter fallen angel and he has only contempt for humanity and its eternal suffering. His mercy is as stone and his heart has cast lots with the darkness for ages. He stares at Anne’s image in the well, for now the condemned can linger.
Anne feels her stomach tie up into knots as she waits on the landing and realizes that everyone has gone. She calls out one last time for them but hears only her own voice in reply. She steps down on the first iron rung of the winding stairs to begin her descent. In her mind it seems to take hours and hours before she reaches the next level. Anne holds on tight to the railing and looks over the side. The drop is unending, infinite, like a deserted stretch of highway destined to go on forever. Looking up, she notices a doorway behind her and walks over. “Josh, Peggy, Mark,” she calls out. Stepping closer to the door she sees a small window crisscrossed with wire. Anne gazes through the glass and thinks she sees Mark pass by in the hallway. Screaming out his name, she tears open the door.
A gush of wind roars and she falls through the portal. Anne is in a yard overgrown with wild bushes and shrubbery. Roses hang dead from their vines with petals clear as cut glass. A moon glows violently overhead and animals howl in packs. She forces her way through the overgrowth as thorns rip through her clothing. Not far ahead of her, a porch light burns and she runs toward the house. The wooden steps are cracked and rotted and she carefully steps over them, supporting herself by grabbing a hold of the worn railing and the splintered pillar.
There are gaps to the right and left of the porch where the wood has completely rotted away. No light shines now from inside this decayed house and the silence is graveyard still. She stands by the door as a pack of wild dogs breaks through the thicket and charges toward her. Anne pounds on the door and it slowly opens with a creeping sigh. She rushes in and slams the door shut behind her. The dogs keep scratching and yelping on the porch to be let in. {“Don’t let my pets frighten you child,”} a woman’s voice whispers coldly. Anne spins around to see who is there but the room is barren and empty. Anne leans up against the wall and cries. A chilling silence descends to grip this desolate house and all within its grasp. The baying of these hounds of hell shatters the quiet like breaking glass. The Inferno’s coldest winds start to blow against this worn and doomed structure. She steps even further into this house as the howling outside grows louder.
Flames ignite and flicker in the fireplace. When she turns from the wall there are furnishings in the room. She runs to the door and turns the doorknob but as she does, one of the animals outside flings itself against the house. Startled, she jumps back and almost falls. {“Is my home not pleasing to you, my child?”} A woman’s voice calls out from nowhere. The wraith places the specter of a hand on her shoulder.
“Josh!” Anne screams. She moves over to a dark brown sofa and sits down. The divan is pressed up against the far wall of the room. Looking around, in the dim light of the fireplace, she notices a portrait of a woman. She is garbed in a sailor’s outfit in the painting. The woman has flowing red hair and her blouse is unbuttoned to reveal a pair of huge breasts. Her green eyes glow invitingly from within the brass frame of the picture. She stares nervously at the painting as she curls up against a cushion. Light starts to flicker from candles on a table that hadn’t been there but a brief moment ago.
Anne looks over at the fireplace, her eyes drifting toward the mantle. In the dim glow she sees a picture frame. Inside of it is a photograph of an old man, bald, with very thick black-rimmed glasses on. The old man wears a scowl instead of a smile for the photographer. She recognizes the face; it is her grandfather. Anne screams and races out of the room. She smashes into a chair and trips. Reaching up from the floor, she feels the outline of a table above her. She pulls herself to her feet and as her eyes adjust to the murkiness; she looks about the room. Seven chairs are pulled away from the dining table and a bowl of fresh fruit sits at the center in a splendid crystal of cut glass. Candles hang from the ceiling in a metal chandelier of brass. It is circular and fastened from chains. Candlelight flickers in crazed patterns on the walls. Anne picks up a knife that lies next to the objects on the table.
She sits down at the head of the table and reaches for an apple from the shining glass. Her hunger seems insatiable as she bites down into the delectable fruit. Choking, she spits out a piece of the apple as thousands of worms slither from the bite mark. They pour out of the tiny aperture and crawl toward her. Anne pulls back in her seat from revulsion and throws the fruit back down on the table. The worms continue to flow in a great mass, devouring one another as they move. She reaches over and grabs a silver candlestick holder by the base. Wielding it like a club she smashes at the creatures snaking and winding in her direction. They let out with a horrible wail of pain and she drops the holder to the floor. The phantom of fear holds fast to her heart and she lets out with a scream.
{“Is not the repast I’ve prepared pleasing to you,”} a woman’s cold voice whispers quietly. She picks up the candlestick holder from where it has fallen and hurls it against the wall. Ancient voices scream out in protest and outside of the house, the dogs return to bay wildly. The candles continue to glimmer and die as the eyes of a thousand phantoms burn their way into her soul.
“Josh, Mark, anyone please help me,” she cries out, as she shakes with fear. The howling outside the door is the only reply. Worms crawl over her forearms as she leans down against the table. The house seems to be screaming inside her mind and she slaps at the creatures to get them off of her skin. As the worms fall to the floor they crawl up the table legs toward the apple she has discarded.
The worms wind their way over the lace tablecloth toward her. Anne jumps up, knocking over the chair she sits in. Running away as fast as she can, Anne heads through the closest doorway. Behind her, the worms flow into the apple and the bite mark closes up. The fruit sits in the crystal bowl as if it has never even been touched. Looking nervously about her, she notices the room she has run to is the kitchen. Finding her way to the sink, she turns on the cold-water faucet, bends down and rinses her mouth out. There is a normal light fixture blazing overhead and she feels calm as she lets the water cascade over her face. She dries herself off with a kitchen towel hanging by the counter and walks over to the refrigerator. It contains milk, eggs, two bottles of water and numerous containers. Her sense of relief mounts as she rummages through the contents. Her curiosity satisfied she closes it up and spots a doorway leading to a small back porch. She lets herself out.
It is a screened in porch with white stucco walls and many windows. There is a large chest freezer against one wall and a picnic table set out in the center of the porch. By the far right wall, facing a vacant lot, a worn lounge chair rests. Anne relaxes on the wooden bench of the picnic table and looks out at the overgrown backyard of the deserted house. Fireflies light the gloom that hovers over the lawn like a cancer. As she watches, a sudden storm breaks the stillness of the moment.
While she sits there, small pebble size rocks begin to fly through a hole in the porch screen. Dozens of them soar into the room and bounce off of the wall. She stares into the night to see if anyone is there but it has become even darker outside and the world is sable. Even the hell-hounds have grown quiet in this Cimmerian stillness. The rains fall silently down within this maddening cloak that has shrouded this dwelling. Anne stands up and walks over to the porch door. She checks that the latch is secure and then returns to the picnic bench and sits back down. The only noise is the pounding of her own heartbeat as she stares straight ahead and listens to the oblivion outside. Anne tries to whistle but her mouth is too dry, so she takes a deep breath and sighs deeply as she lowers her head to her chest. A full moon breaks through its dark prison of clouds and she looks up and sighs once more.
A wolf tears through the window, its jaws snapping shut just inches from her throat. Anne leaps up and races back toward the kitchen doorway as the wolf jumps on top of the picnic table. She slams the kitchen door closed and bolts the locks. “Why God, why is this happening?” Anne cries out. She races away as the wolf howls and claws at the door. She finds herself back inside the living room where flames blaze brightly in the hearth. There is only one path left to try, the stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. Hesitantly, she starts her ascent as the steps creak in protest. As she reaches the top of the landing she realizes at last where she is. Anne is now standing on the stairs of her old childhood home. She hears her grandfather moan in the bedroom down the hall and she freezes with her hand wrapped around the banister. Her legs refuse her commands to move.
Anne’s adolescence swims evilly before her eyes. As she listens to the howls of her grandfather, she recalls how soon his nightly visit will begin. Anne knows her childhood double is curled up in a ball of fear in the bedroom next to her grandsire’s. She let go of the railing and suddenly feels the cold touch of a gun in her hand. Anne watches as her grandfather walks out into the hall and opens up her bedroom door. In her mind, she can hear herself praying for help, as she cries silently in her bed. She sees the old man unzip his pants and enter the child’s bedroom. Anne raises the weapon up and aims it at the back of her grandfather’s head. “God forgive me!” she cries out.
A hand reaches out and seizes her by the arm making Anne scream. The bullet slams into the wall narrowly missing the old man’s head. He turns around and glares at her. It is the same expression he wears in the photograph resting on the mantle downstairs. The hand that holds her spins her around and when she opens her mouth to scream, Mark shakes her and she falls limply into his arms.
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” he asks, as he holds her close to him.
“I tried to but I was so ashamed, so embarrassed, he was my grandfather;” she weeps. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t,” he answers, as his form becomes fainter and fainter until it vanishes entirely from her sight. Then he is gone and she is alone once more. The house becomes a web of silver madness that spins all around her. Anne reaches out and finds the handle of a door looming like a beacon in front of her. Slowly, she pulls it open. Anne is still inside the house, before another doorway.
It whispers harshly, compellingly, in her mind but she turns and walks the other way. In the deserted home, guarded by wolves, smoke billows from the fireplace. In the midst of this darkened blanket Mark Talbot staggers. He does not know how he has come to be in that place but he does know that Anne is somewhere nearby. The smoke clears and Mark stands facing the portrait of the female seafarer. As he watches, the red hair cascades within the frame. Her green eyes burn into his face and hold him spellbound.
The woman’s lips part and her voice sings the song of the siren. The sounds of a churning ocean flood the room as he moves toward the portrait. Mark can taste the salt of the waves and smell the sea breeze. He falls to his knees on the floor and when he looks up he is on the deck of the S.S. Montgomery. Andrew Talbot is at the rail and Mark knows what his father is about to do. He races to his father’s side and reaches out to grab him. Mark’s hands pass through him like the wavering grip of a ghost. The red-haired siren sings her voice with a lilt that seems to pour over the very ocean itself. She walks over the waves chanting, this green-eyed Lorelei of death. Her song is the sailor’s lament of lost love and endings. It speaks to Andrew Talbot’s heart and he leaps into the sea as Mark stands by helplessly on deck.
“Dad, no!” the young Mark Talbot cries. The man who is his ghost looks over at himself as a boy. He wants to console the youth, to let him know this is not how Andrew Talbot will die. If the soul of a man can weep, his tears would be etched in the coil of eternity forever. It is the siren’s voice alone that drowns out the crashing waves. This Lorelei is a chanteuse of mortality and her tophen elegy can touch the most hardened sailor’s heart.
“Our parents don’t die at sea, they’re still alive,” the voice of the ghost tries to say. His words are as hollow as his image and the child hears nothing of what he says. The song of the ocean’s temptress calls out to young Mark Talbot. Her stark beauty chills his bones but somehow fills his soul with a consuming desire to reach her. The boy knows that all of his pain and hurt will end if he can only reach this siren as his father has just done. Her singing strangely moves even Mark’s temporal form. The ghost and the boy stand by the rails and look out over the ocean. Her anger has calmed and the waters are nearly still. The young man places one foot over the side and Mark reaches down to hold him back. His hands pass through him like a stone skimming over the water. “God, please don’t let him die like this,” the ghost whispers. The boy climbs back onto the deck and collapses.
The blast of a ship’s horn sounds in the distance and the siren ends her lilting song of desolation. He stands on the deck, invisible to all, as the coast guard rescues the boy. Slowly the S.S. Montgomery goes to her watery grave. He looks up as she sinks and sees the siren. She laughs a cruel laugh and dives back beneath the sea. The ocean spins like a whirlpool around him and it hurls Mark from its azure surface.

Beneath his feet, he feels something solid and he stands up. He finds himself back inside the prison facing another door. Mark walks down a hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoing hollowly behind him. He pauses by an entrance with a sign labeling it: RESTRICTED ACCESS and removes a fireman’s axe. Mark swings the ax splintering the plaster of the wall. He smashes the shining blade over and over into the opening he has created as metal and wood rain down. When the aperture is large enough, he crawls through and discovers where the riot equipment is stored. Mark leaves to find the others carrying as much as he can. There is no sound in this prison other than that of their whispering heartbeats. This death-still edifice is the devil’s solace, his death row of souls, his tomb for all who doubt his complete and total mastery of the Inferno.

There is but one lord of darkness whose rule is greater than that of all devils. This is the one that even devils fear, the one named by the Father as Satan. And it is he who watches the outcome of events with great interest from the starkness of Dudael. Satan gazes at both Mark Talbot and the devil- Mesphisto. He stares into a mirror in a castle and sees all that may be revealed.
Satan takes the journal he was writing in and places it within the mirror. Slowly the pages of Dasairus vanish and Satan laughs. The voice of Satan whispers, it calls within the dreams of a wolf. The words reach the beast within the castle of the devil. The wolf who serves one master moves closer to a mirror in Mesphisto’s chamber. The wolf knows what lies beyond the reflection and that somehow he must bring this dark knowledge to Mesphisto. The reflection in the glass changes until all that remains of the wolf’s image is death. The beast howls but its master does not hear. The hand of death stares into the yellow tinged eyes of the wolf. Once more the wolf cries out in warning as the black cat arches its back and hisses within the mirror. Death picks up her servant and smiles down upon the wolf.
Peggy’s footsteps fall silently upon the iron grating as she and Josh climb ever downward. He whistles the gospel song, Amazing Grace, to help ease the chill he feels in his bones. As they descend the barren prison, the walls seem to close in all around them. They are painted battleship grey broken only by a yellow striping on each landing.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can stand,” Peggy says desperately, as they walk by another colorless landing. Josh reaches over and takes her into his arms. He holds her closely and gently kisses her ear lobe.
“There’s got to be some way out of this,” he tells her. “I refuse to believe that it’s over and Elliott’s won!” Peggy cries as she struggles to free herself from him. She pushes Josh away and lunges for a nearby door.
“I’m sorry,” Peggy says, as she throws it open and steps through the doorway. She is in a home for the aged, standing in the lobby. Peggy catches her reflection in a mirror and sees that she is young again, maybe eighteen or nineteen. The same age she was when she first met Josh. The memory brings with it a bitter laugh, a policewoman in love with the town’s sheriff. He was handsome, a Korean War veteran in his early thirties. Josh had swiftly swept the young girl off of her feet. In 1965 small town America they did what most folks would have done and kept their affair very private.
Peggy remembers it all very vividly as she stares at her image in the glass. Her remembrance stops when a nurse’s aide wheels a heavy-set woman toward her in a wheelchair. Before she can even move out of the way, the chair strikes her. She braces for the expected pain but there isn’t any. The mechanical device rolls straight through her like a hand passing through water. She screams involuntarily but nobody hears. Peggy tries to grab the ladies arm but falls straight ahead as if it were only air in front of her and nothing more. She lies across the rug in the lobby listening to the voices speaking all around her.
Slowly, she gets back up to her feet and follows the wheelchair. The aide wheels the elderly woman out to the solarium. It overlooks a boardwalk by a large beach. There are many people walking around outside and the sun flares in the sky. She guesses it to be late in the summer, probably on a weekend. A nurse comes over and the aide leaves after whispering something to the disabled woman who smiles up at the R.N. The old lady turns away briefly to stare out over the beach and listen to the sound of the gulls scavenging for food.
“Do you want to stay out here awhile longer?” the nurse asks, as she smiles down on the elderly resident.
“Oh my, yes,” the woman responds in a voice cut from the cloth of time. The elderly woman reaches out and with a tremendous effort clasps the R. N.’s hand.
“It’s okay Mrs. Hopkins, I’m not going to leave you,” the woman reassures her. Peggy moves closer and stands beside them. The sound of the young enjoying summer drifts in from the nearby beach. As Peggy looks on she can see the wide smile the old woman wears as her memories free her from the confinement of the chair. “I’m afraid we’ll have to go in soon, they’ll be serving lunch any minute now,” the nurse tells her, as she turns the chair around. A young man’s voice calls out.
“Nurse Flanders, may I see you for a moment?” he asks. She walks over to a doctor who is holding a chart in his hand. The young doctor has one eye on the medical information about Mrs. Hopkins and one eye on Nurse Flanders. “I’m very sorry.” He puts the medical chart down, turns, and walks away. Peggy can’t help but notice the tears as they well up in the R.N.’s eyes. She takes her to the dining area and insists on helping the old woman with her meal. The aide leaves them there alone and goes to assist other patients.
“Why do you look so sad, you’re such a pretty girl,” Mrs. Hopkins tells the woman. Nurse Flanders pats her hand and takes her back to her room on the second floor. After getting her into bed she walks over to the window and draws the blinds. “No, please don’t, I want to feel the sunlight.” Her voice sounds weak as she speaks. The R.N. sits by her side and holds her hand as the day wears on. Peggy watches them both from the corner of the room. “It’s my boy, I see my son!” For a moment the old woman’s grasp seems stronger. As Nurse Flanders holds her hand her grip weakens and her head slumps back down on her pillow. She reaches for the emergency buzzer as Mrs. Hopkins’ eyes meet hers. They plead with her to just let her die. Nurse Flanders walks out of the room. Peggy has not known either woman before that day but she feels her own emotions start to overwhelm her. She follows the woman down the floor of the nursing home unseen by all. The nurse stops by a door at the end of the hall and leans up against the wall for a moment. Tears flow down her face.
“There are others who need me,” she sobs aloud. Several minutes later she regains her composure and enters a room at the end of the hallway.

Chapter Two: THE SEAGULLS SAD CHANT

Peggy’s temporal self follows behind her. Nurse Flanders picks up a chart and scans the patient’s information. After checking for any changes the doctor may have ordered, she steps over to a hospital bed below a window. An elderly woman dozes off in the single room with the drab green walls. A small television is turned on but the sound is muted in the expensive private room. Peggy can see that it is tuned into a soap opera but can’t tell which program the woman is watching. The nurse hangs the chart back up on the end of the bed.
“How are you feeling today?” the R.N. asks. Peggy’s spirit moves from the corner, invisible to all, until she stands in front of the woman. She reads the elderly woman’s chart and discovers that the ancient face is her own.
“Did Josh come by today?” she asks in a voice etched with pain. The ghost stares down at the woman and sees the lined face with sorrow painted heavily into the eyes. The ghost feels the weight of hurt attach itself to her heart. She walks away quickly from the bed. If spirits shed tears, she wept, invisible to all. The nurse takes the elderly woman’s hand in hers.
“I’m certain he’ll be by tomorrow,” the nurse lies to her.
The spirit moves over to a dresser covered with photographs and looks carefully at each one. Peggy’s temporal form is desperate to find a wedding picture of her and Josh. The pictures end with a photograph of Josh as he clears out his desk in the mayor’s office. She watches as the old woman is given an injection to help her sleep. Then she follows Nurse Flanders out into the hallway as she prepares to make her rounds.
“If I ever got my hands on that bum she waited for I’d wring his damn neck,” the woman says aloud, as she walks off. Peggy’s heart feels like it is about to break.
“No!” the ghost cries. “Josh would never have let it end like this, I know he loves me. This is all some damnable trick by the devil and God help me, I know it!” Her soul reaches out and throws open a door. Peggy steps through and is back inside of the prison. She stands on a landing all alone and cries out Josh’s name. Her voice echoes back to her without any answer. Climbing back up the spiraling stairs, time loses all substance and meaning. The hours are eternal in the Inferno.
She arrives at a doorway and is somehow certain Mark has been there. Peggy opens it and follows. There is a dark road beyond and the hum of nothingness plays in her mind. This byway is unpaved with only the imprint of a horse’s tracks to show it is ever even used.
It is night and the darkness is drawn on a canvas before her. A full moon lights the only path as black clouds cast shadows on the ground. Peggy follows a clearing that leads off from the road to an overgrown vacant lot. There are bushes nearby but they seem devoid of life. As she watches, roses bloom on vines, then shrivel and die. They leave only thorns behind to mark their passage. Amidst this blackened dimness she spies a sliver of light and makes her way toward its glow. The house is worn by time but a single window is lit and Peggy navigates the unkempt path to reach the house. The open porch is battered and in ruins. One of the floorboards gives way beneath her feet when she steps forward to clasp the door.
It swings open as she gets back up to her feet and Peggy walks inside. A knife curves out through the darkness and before she can move it slices her arm. She spins around quickly and tosses her attacker to the floor. Peggy’s hand wraps around her opponent’s wrist and the two bodies roll across the ground. The blade thrusts forward just inches from her face as she tightens her grip. Peggy forces her attacker’s arm back and pins it to the ground. She falls heavily across their chest and the knife slips from her assailant’s grasp. The fireplace suddenly roars to life and she looks down at the body that writhes below hers.
“Anne!” she exclaims. The younger woman just cries. Peggy stands and helps her to her feet. “That wasn’t the greeting I was expecting.” She moves forward and Peggy holds her in her arms as she shakes.
“I’m sorry, it seems like I’ve been trapped here forever and when I saw the door open up…,” Anne sobs. After a few minutes, they seat themselves on the sofa and talk. As the fire crackles and burns they fill each other in on what has happened.
There is no longer any table now with burning candles in the main room. The picture frame on the mantle is empty. Peggy takes her hand as the young girl trembles on the sofa. In the coldest depths of the nethermost regions of the inferno the winds start to howl. Here there is both eternal fire and cold. The dark clouds of hell descend upon them.
The winds rage with a deafening roar as the dogs’ bay.
“Don’t be afraid, I’m sure the boys will be here shortly. I’ve got a feeling that this place is where Mesphisto wants us all to be,” Peggy says to her. She receives no reply as Anne has fallen into the confines of deep slumber. The flames continue to crackle and fan up in the hearth giving the small place a touch of light. The logs burn without warmth and a chill wavers in the room. It seems to hover in the air until it spies Peggy. This cold closes around the house like a vulture of ice until it descends on the two women. The house is graveyard still with a silence as bleak as a raven’s dark eyes. Peggy shivers from the chill that has gnawed its way into her bones. She stands and walks over to the fireplace then kneels down before the flames. Peggy holds her hands out and rubs them together but quickly discovers that no heat rises from the fire. The low-cut ivory chiffon dress she wears offers no comfort. As she stands there freezing, she recalls how excited Anne was when they picked out the dress together for her wedding. The flames seem to roar and dance as she sits back down gripped by her own despair. There is not a sound to be heard anywhere in this house. Total dismal silence and cold are the sole comforts of this home set in desolation.
She tries shaking Anne to wake her up but the young girl barely moves. Then she covers her over with a worn blanket and leaves her in the comfort of her blissful sleep. Peggy gets up from the sofa and walks nearby to where the knife had fallen. She picks it up and nervously circles the small area. Perhaps it is only her imagination but she feels warmer somehow. She stops to lean up against the wall and briefly rest. It is there, as her eyes adjust fully to the gloom that she notices the mantle. The small room changes and appears to grow in size as she watches. The distance between her and the fireplace seems somehow much greater now. The cold winds of quietus cease their roar.
As she looks over at the mantle she spots a picture frame that she hasn’t noticed before. It is a finely crafted ornate frame etched in gold and silver. She can’t make out the photograph itself, so she moves closer to see it more clearly. Reaching up, she removes it from the mantle as the floorboards beneath her moan. Peggy recognizes the face within the frame. It is her dad, the father who had deserted her mother when she was only a small child. The picture in her hands comes alive and the face inside the frame turns towards her and speaks.
[“I’ve never loved you or your mother,” it says mockingly. “I didn’t want you, nobody wants you Peggy, nobody ever will!] At first she cries but then anger wells up inside of her and she throws the picture frame at the mantle. The glass breaks and the frame splinters into a million pieces.
The photograph bursts into flames and seconds later only ash remains. The cold reaches out to grip her and the fires dim in the fireplace. There is the sound of water as it rushes through pipes and outside this dread house the dogs all bay. She runs over to the sofa and pulls the blanket from her.
Peggy shakes Anne awake. “Wake up honey, wake up, we’ve got to get out of here!” she screams. Slowly the young eyes before her snap open. They glare up from the sofa with animal hatred. Peggy releases her grip as Anne rises and slowly turns to face her.
Peggy steps away from her as saliva runs from her mouth and her eyes become great yellow orbs. Her jawbone juts forward several inches as razor sharp fangs replace her teeth. Peggy freezes where she stands, helpless in the center of the room. The wolf faces her, its silver tinged fur glistening in the dim firelight. Peggy lunges for the knife she has left up on the mantle as the wolf leaps at her. Its weight knocks her to the floor but she holds on tightly to the blade in her hand and stabs at the beast. The wolf rears back, its claws extended for the kill. Peggy thrusts out with the knife and the tip of the blade finds the wolf’s heart. It opens up its jaws and lets out with a horrible piercing wail of pain. Outside, the dogs start to howl madly.
Peggy lies beneath the slain beast as silence again pervades the house. Blood pours freely over her as with the last of her strength she pushes the animal away. Slowly she gets back up to her feet and looks down. Anne lies across the floor, a knife stuck through her heart.
{“You were always jealous of the girl’s relationship with Josh! Now you have him all to yourself,”} a woman’s voice warns icily.
“That isn’t true,” Peggy says. “I never hated her, I thought of Anne like a daughter!” The house falls back into silence and Peggy shakes with fright. The unseen host lets out a bitter laugh and the flames dull even further in the hearth. There is a wind, a biting cold that clings to Peggy as she walks away from the young girl who lies dead on the floor. She makes her way to the stairs and climbs up to the first landing. Peggy’s eyes flood over with tears as she turns to look at Anne one final time. In the spot where she had lain, a wolf lies dead across the floor. The young girl is no longer in the room. Peggy walks up the winding stairs to the second floor and waits. Winds rattle the shudders on the upstairs windows and the old house seems to let out an audible sigh in protest. She listens as the house wails, expecting deep inside for Josh to come racing to her rescue. As she stands there, it scares her to realize how dependent she has become on him. Peggy passes by a mirror. Her body leaves no reflection in the glass.
The walls of the abandoned house all shimmer as the dull beige color transforms itself into the lime green shade of Peggy’s childhood home. She proceeds down the hallway and hears voices arguing from where her mother’s bedroom used to be. [“I had dinner ready for you, seven hours ago, at six when you should have been here!” a woman’s voice yells.]
[“I don’t let no woman raise her voice to me, bitch, or tell me what to do,” a man screams back. “Now get your lazy ass downstairs and fix me something to eat!”]
[“Please Richard, you’ll wake the baby up,” she tells him.]
[“The little bastards probably not even mine!”]
Peggy just leans against the bedroom door listening, as she had done when she was six years old. She is a ghost now, forced by the devil to relive her past. Then she hears the sound she hates the most, a dull thudding noise as her father beats up her mother.
[“Please Richie, please don’t hit me again,” Peggy’s mother begs him. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do just don’t hurt me or little Peggy.”]
She watches her mother run crying from her bedroom and race downstairs to the kitchen. The ghost follows her down and stands by her side. Caroline Allison rummages through the refrigerator for something to cook for her drunken husband. Richard comes staggering through the living room and stops by the archway between the two rooms. He glares at Caroline like a madman as he curses and waves a baseball bat he has picked up. Peggy’s ghost watches in horror as little Peggy comes running in, pushing her way past her father to stand defiantly between him and her mother. [“Don’t you hit my mommy,” the little girl warns him.] Richie steps forward and with his free hand slaps his daughter across the face.
Little Peggy falls forward, smashing her head into the wall. She slumps down to the floor and lies there unmoving.
[“Richard, how could you, how could you do something like that?” Caroline screams out, as she races over to her daughter.] The sight of his young daughter crumbled up like a rag doll on the floor sobers the large man up quickly.
[“It ain’t my fault bitch, if you had supper waiting for me none of this would have ever happened,” he says, as he turns around and walks away.]
Richard Allison has opened the front door and fled before the ambulance arrives to take his daughter to the hospital. Peggy never saw her father again after that day and Caroline never remarried. The ghost walks through the back door to the porch. When Peggy looks up she is inside the prison. A short distance from where she stands she hears voices speaking. Peggy runs down the passageway and through a doorway until she comes to a row of holding cells. The prison looks different than it had earlier. The walls in this section are painted a bright paisley yellow and there is a mop and bucket just sitting in the center of the aisle where somebody has recently cleaned.
Peggy recognizes one of the voices and walks over to a jail cell and grabs the bars with both hands. Her mother is locked up inside with someone who is huddled up in a corner of the cell.
“Mom,” she cries, “I didn’t know he had taken you here too, are you okay?”
“Peggy, my God, what is this place?” Caroline asks. “I thought I had lost my mind. Please, tell me what’s going on? How do we get out of here?”
“I don’t fully understand it myself but Josh and Mark got tied up somehow with a murder case back in the sixties that involved devil worship. It’s too bizarre to explain but the devil has brought us here to face some kind of trial. Are all the others from Anne’s wedding party trapped here also?” Peggy asks her. Before she can respond, the hallway fills with the odor of brimstone and sulfur. In a flash of crimson fire the devil appears. He steps over to the bucket left out in the corridor and starts to mop the floor. Caroline screams and falls to the ground.
Mesphisto puts down the utensil and turns toward Peggy. She presses up against a cell, her body trembling with fear. Caroline gets back up to her feet and reaching between the bars places her hand on Peggy’s shoulder.
“How touching,” the devil hisses. “Perhaps you would allow me to answer your questions. You are here as my guests, I have no acrimony against any of you. It’s Mark Talbot and your boyfriend who seems to keep stumbling their way into my plans and that I cannot accept.” The devil walks back to the bucket, picks up the mop and wrings it out. He continues the job of cleaning the hallway, as Caroline and Peggy watch. Inside the cell with Peggy’s mother is Ann McKee, a childhood friend of Peggy’s who is a policewoman in Claremont. She remains curled up in a corner of the cell behind the bottom cot.
The overhead lighting casts the devil’s shadow over Peggy who still leans up against her Mother’s cell. Mesphisto appears to them in his favorite guise, not that of a man but as the devil. The skin on his face is wrinkled and scarred, his body the color of flame. His hair is dark, pulled back into a ponytail that hangs to the nape of his neck. He has gossamer wings on his back that shine silver with a blue metallic streak to them. They remind Caroline of the wings on a wasp. God had taken from the devil the gift of flight when he was cast from the heavens. At close to eight feet in height he towers over Peggy as he returns her gaze with his yellow tinged eyes.
“Peggy,” Ann McKee whispers low. “I think he’s forgotten all about the rest of us!” It is only then that Peggy notices Ann in the corner of the cell. She watches her as she reaches down and opens up her handbag. Before Peggy can shout out a warning, Ann springs forward with a small revolver in her hand. Ann McKee sticks the weapon through the bars of the door and aims it at the devil’s back as he mops. She fires four times and the sound explodes throughout the prison. The devil drops the mop and waves his talon hand in her direction.
Ann finds herself out in the hallway, her hands around the mop handle. The devil stands hunched over in the cell with Caroline. Peggy is now trapped inside of the cell also, face to face with Mesphisto. Ann hurls the mop away and turns around to run. The devil’s tongue slips out from his mouth and licks Peggy’s face. It is long and leathery like a great black snake.
“It’s so hard to find good help,” the devil laughs. Ann McKee bursts into flames, her screams filling the silence of the prison. Caroline and Peggy hold each other tightly and cry. The voices of the other captured wedding guests yell and scream from their cells. The devil steps out into the hallway and strides down the hall. He stops in front of the first cell and leans up against the bars. “You must be Mike Harris, Anne’s father,” the devil says in a voice as cold as ice. “If I recall, you are a physician, a noble profession in its day. I take it the woman with you is your current lover; Denise Richards I believe is her name. A lovely creature, doctor. I admire your taste. May I inquire as to what you do for a living, young lady?” Denise clutches Mike’s arm as she trembles with fear. Mike moves closer to the door of his cell and locks eyes with the devil. His mention of his daughter’s name raises his temper.
“I don’t care what you do to me just don’t arm my daughter,” he warns him.
“It’s a little bit late to start worrying about her now isn’t it,” the devil hisses. “You should have been more careful about whom she was dating. Your daughter has chosen her side in this, you however have yet to decide and my home is always open to strangers.”
“I don’t understand; what exactly do you mean?” Mike asks.
“I don’t suppose you do,” the devil answers, as he laughs.
The devil leans forward and blinks at Mike. Anne appears in the cell with him a few seconds later. He reaches forward to hold her and the world before him grows dark and hazy. When he can see clearly again he is on a landing of the prison stairs. His daughter has taken his place in the cell. She looks over at Mesphisto with rage in her eyes.
“What have you done to my father?” she asks angrily. The devil tilts his head sideways and stares coldly at her. Then he casts his eyes toward Denise.
“I had nearly forgotten, you were about to tell me about yourself,” the devil says. “Denise, I take it you know Anne, tell us what it is you do back home.”
“I’m a dancer in a club called the Glass House Café,” Denise tells the devil.
“May I have the honor?” the devil asks. She finds herself outside of the cell in the hallway naked. Mesphisto takes her gingerly into his arms as Strauss’ The Blue Danube starts to play. They waltz down the passageway together with beautiful grace.
She follows his every move and her eyes meet his as he dips her down gently with the crescendo of the music. Somehow Denise has no fear of this devil and her blood boils with passion at his touch. The devil bends over her and kisses her with great passion. Denise kisses him back, swept away by the music and the devil’s lust. When the music ends they are both gone and the prison resounds with the devil’s mad laughter. Caroline clutches Peggy’s hand and weeps.
“I don’t understand what you meant when you said we were here to face some kind of trial,” Caroline says to Peggy in a choked voice. “How are Josh and Mark mixed up in all of this? Surely this can’t be real. There aren’t any devils except in scripture.”
In the farthest reaches of the devil’s vast wasteland stands a castle by a river of flames. It is here, to this stone palace, that Mesphisto brings Denise. There is color here, fantastic hues of fabrics and dressings setting this edifice apart from the bleakness of hell. The devil can rest here; find peace within its walls with the silk banners and marble floors. The price extolled on him is steep for he can only walk its halls in the form he despises most, that of a man. Inside the castle’s walls Mesphisto is human, mortal. It is a secret he shares with no one. His appearance is not unlike his son, both have high cheekbones, are dark skinned and each has hair of a silky jet-black color. As a man the devil is handsome.
He carries Denise across the threshold of his castle, up to his bedchamber at the top of the winding stairs. She is tall with an athletic build and flowing red hair that reaches to the small of her back. In his room of silken sheets their passion rekindles and burns. He takes this woman as he has taken no other, with both soul and heart. They lay entwined in feverish delight thrusting wildly against one another. For Denise it seems like hours, for the devil only seconds out of infinity. Such is God’s curse upon his castle. When she awakens he is gone and the room is empty.
The devil walks the wastelands followed by the wolf. The beast has been made to forget all that Satan revealed until the proper time. Mesphisto thinks of the apocalypse and the woman who waits an eternal wait within his castle’s walls. In time he will become mortal again and appear at her side as Michael-Semjaza Orcus. The devil despises his mortality, his cursed humanity but he needs Denise for she will be the final player in his apocalypse of silence.

Mark Talbot carries the riot gear he has found down the empty hallway. He continues to chop through the walls in order to avoid all doorways. The silence of the prison clings to him like a cloak as he searches for any sign of the others. Spotting a fire hose behind its glass housing, he shatters the lock and opens it up. Mark unfurls the hose to its full length and once more picks up the ax. His hands have blistered from the effort of chopping through the walls. Taking off his shirt he rips off the sleeves and wraps them around his swollen hands. With the last of his strength he tears up the floorboards and lowers the hose to the level below. Slowly, he lets himself down, the pain almost more than he can bear.

He drops quietly to the floor and falls to his knees, his hands caked with his blood. An eternity passes in the ticking of a heartbeat. Mark looks up as a shadow falls over the wall next to where he kneels. Picking up one of the riot guns he has taken with him, Mark slips inside a doorway. The shadow falls closer and he moves out into the hallway, his finger poised around the trigger of the weapon.
“Mark, Mark Talbot, don’t shoot it’s me,” Mike Harris says.
“My God, I didn’t know Mesphisto had taken all of you,” Mark responds worriedly. “I thought he was only interested in Josh and me.”
“Maybe you’d better explain what’s going on!” he says. Mark explains everything to Mike from Jim Franklyn’s murder in 1965 to Elliott and the devil in 1987. The wolf and the son of Hades watch them both from the waters of the mystic well.
“I’m a doctor, a man of science,” he says. “I haven’t believed in Gods or devils for more years than I care to remember. Now you’re asking me to believe in both and Mark that scares me. All I do know is that my daughter is locked up here by some madman and for once I’m not going to let her down! You said before you had some way of getting us all out of here, maybe I can help you to remember how.”
Mike hypnotizes him, ending the devil’s block on his white magic. Mark spins a temporal rift and looks upon the blue skies of Claremont. Then he opens his mind to Mike Harris and he sees the truth of what Mark has told him. He views lakes of fire, beasts that walk like men, Cerberus at the gates of hell and the lonely desolation of the wastelands.
It is more than a man of science can take and he runs down the passageway and throws open a door before Mark can stop him. Mike Harris has found his own way out of hell. He looks up and sees the pale green walls of an operating room. Mike moves forward and passes through a tray of sterilized instruments. He is only a ghost in this reality, a temporal being. There is a patient lying on a stretcher but Mike can’t see their face. He can tell that they are severely injured. Mike looks over at the chart on the gurney. The patient is his daughter, Anne. The doctor attending her is Arthur Gavens of Fairview Hospital. He is the physician for patients who can’t afford Mike’s outrageous fees. Mike reaches for the chart and starts shouting instructions to the nurses standing by the operating table. His hand drifts through the paper and his words cannot be heard. Doctor Mike Harris watches as Arthur Gavens tells the head nurse to prep Anne for immediate surgery.
Gavens is a competent surgeon but Mike is brilliant at what he does. As time passes he knows that Doctor Gavens won’t be able to save his daughter. Mike’s ghostly self starts whispering suggestions. He stands by Anne’s side, as the hopelessness of the situation overwhelms him. Her vital signs slip and the nurse calls out. “Code blue,” she says. “We’re losing her doctor!”
Mike sees the look of panic on the doctor’s face and falls down on his knees. He prays like he has never prayed in his lifetime for his daughter’s life to be spared.
“I swear to you Lord, if you save my little girl, I’ll change, I promise I will, just don’t let Anne die,” Mike’s ghostly image pleads.
“Doctor, I’ve got a pulse!” the nurse yells out. Mike walks through the walls of the operating room and stands in the passageway where he had left Mark Talbot.
“Mike, are you okay, what happened?” Mark asks.
“C’mon Mark, I’ve got a daughter to rescue and I’ve wasted too much time already,” he says, as he turns and walks down the hall. Mark runs to catch up with him carrying the riot gear over his shoulder.
“I hope at least one of us has a plan,” Mark says to him as he shifts his bundle to ease the weight on his hands. Mike reaches over and slips one of the rifles off of Mark’s back. He pulls the bolt back and checks the action. Mark hands him a tear gas canister and he slips it into the pocket of his coat.
Frontal assault,” he tells him. “It’s the last thing they’d be expecting from us!”
“Then you know where he’s keeping Anne and the others?” Mark asks.
“I can find it again, there was a sign on the wall that read: PROPERTY CLERK,” he informs him. “That would make the holding cells located on the first level or maybe the basement.” Mark stops walking and kneels down on the floor. He presses his palms together and lets his fingertips touch. “Ulnae zi narant,” Mark incants.
Silver, scarlet and purple bands of energy swirl before Mike’s eyes in a crescendo. His head swims as if he had far too much to drink. When he manages to open up his eyes again they are standing in a short hallway just around the corner from where the devil’s prisoners are kept.
He recognizes the area and holds his finger up to his lips to let Mike know to keep quiet. Wolves prowl the hallway, some walking on paws, some walking upright like men.
Mark leans against the wall and recites a spell. His arm moves through the solid plaster surface and pulls out a small glass bottle with a wax seal. Mark slices it open carefully and places it next to him on the floor.
“What is that?” Mike inquires. Mark takes out a pocketknife and dips the blade into the bottle. With great care he places the blade down on a handkerchief he has opened.
“It’s an arcane poison to slay the beasts we are about to encounter,” Mark informs him.
After a few minutes when the poison has cured and dried Mark picks the knife back up. He creeps up to the edge of the wall where the small hallway meets the corridor. He counts off four wolves, two that walk like men and two who pad along beside them. Mark folds up the knife and places it back into his pocket. Mike walks up to him with the rifle in his hand, takes out some shells, and hands them to Mark.
“You’d better coat these with the poison also, just in case the riot guns don’t do the job on their own,” Mike says. “I don’t want to take any chances with my daughter’s life at stake!”
“I don’t understand why but Mesphisto seems to have lost all interest in us for the moment and I sense that Elliott’s plans don’t include informing his father of what is going on,” Mark explains. “I don’t want to chance losing that advantage by blasting our way in and out of here. I can teleport behind them and use the knife quickly and quietly.”
“You expect me to just wait here and do nothing,” he says, as anger boils in his eyes. Mark motions for him to be quiet as he spins a rift in time. The area by Mark’s hands wavers in purple and silver lights. He whispers an incantation and waits. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes blaze violently as he wrenches a nine inch crimson dagger from the air. Its hilt depicts the ‘hand’ with a pair of wings. This ancient symbol of the handmaiden of death, this dagger was forged well before Babylonia, and Mark handles it with great care as he coats the blade with the arcane poison.
“Mike, yours is the most dangerous game of all,” he says. “I may be able to slay two of the beasts at most. I intend to lure them here, to where you’ll be lying in wait with the dagger to slay the ones who get by me.”
Mark lowers the shaft of the hand of death into its sheath, depicting the goddess of quietus. “No time like the present.” Mark vanishes into the quivering light before him and reappears behind the beast. The pocketknife he has flipped open finds the creatures’ throat before it can react. It drops to the floor soundlessly in death but the wolf beside it spins around to attack. Mark hurls the knife as the lupus springs and at the same time, he vanishes into the shimmering light. He appears for a brief instant by the wall near the small passageway where Mike waits. Then he is gone and the third beast and the wolf charge toward where he has been. Mike sees the blood that covers Mark’s shirt and guesses that his plan has worked. Mark reaches for the dagger in Mike’s hand but he pulls back, shaking his head in a silent, “No”. The beast lunges around the corner its claws slashing just inches from Mark’s face. It is only then that Mike realizes Mark is weaponless and fear grips his heart. The distance between bravery and cowardice can sometimes be measured in a single heartbeat. Thinking of Anne, he thrusts the dagger into the beast and it falls. The final beast is silent in its assault. Its jaw clamps down on Mike’s arm and he screams. Mark runs for the dagger that is imbedded in the chest of the third beast. Mike slams the fingers of his good arm into the eyes of the lupus and it releases its grip. He staggers back against the wall and collapses.

Cerberus answers the cries of its brothers who have been slain by Mark. Each of its three heads rear up and let out with a piercing wail that resounds through the barrens of the wasteland. The beasts that roam this cursed landscape carry the howling to the very gates of Mesphisto’s castle. The devil pulls away from Denise who stares up at him from the ornate bed they have shared. At the moment Mesphisto is human and denied even the rule of his own kingdom. The voice of Cerberus has reached the castle and while he is now flesh and blood, even Mesphisto knows he must somehow heed the warning. A raven leaves the castle and flies to the sacred waters nearby the throne of Desolation. It stares into the pool and the devil sees Mark as he is about to slay the final beast. The devil looks down upon Denise’s naked body and hungers. He curses himself for his human weakness as he sends the raven in search of his son. Then he takes the dancer again for he knows his time left is brief and his plans for this woman have yet to come to pass. A raven speaks for a devil as the gods all turn away. Elliott listens to the words of the messenger as he looks down upon the castle from the throne of desolation.
Mark drives the dagger into the heart of the wolf before it can attack again. He kneels down and looks over the damage to Mike’s right arm.
“Good God,” he says, as he tears up Mike’s coat to make a tourniquet. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to stop the bleeding!” Mark tightens the strip of cloth around his elbow and uses the rest as a makeshift bandage.
“Not bad for an amateur,” Mike says bravely, as he looks over the dressing. “Let’s go get my daughter.” Leaning heavily on Mark, they walk down the hall to the holding cells. As they pass by the first door, Peggy calls out when she sees them.
“Where’s Josh?” she asks. “Mike, your arm, are you going to be alright?”
“I’ve done more damage than this shaving,” he says casually. Mark works on the locks and in a few minutes they spring open and Peggy and Caroline are freed. He moves his way quickly down the hall, releasing Sam, Helen and Anne. She runs over and puts her arms around her father.
“Daddy, you’re hurt, we’ve got to get you out of here,” Anne says worriedly.
There is a flash of hellfire, a manic laugh and Elliott stands at the end of the passageway with the wolf by his side. This wolf is larger than any Mike has ever seen. Its eyes glare with an almost human intelligence.
Elliott’s cold laughter stops as he stares at Mark Talbot. His hand rests on the beast as he strokes its fur. He seems larger than Mark remembered with high cheekbones and a dark reddish complexion. Elliott’s appearance favored the Mayan Indian with his jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail and his manner dangerous but regal.
Mark steps forward in front of his friends and moves in Elliott’s direction. The wolf lets out a low howl and Elliott walks over to the side of the beast.
“Checking out?” he asks, as the wolf howls. Mark forges the fires of malison and bane and the passageway by the beast erupts in flames.
“Good, this won’t be as boring as I feared,” Elliott warns. He counters Mark’s wanga with an incantation of his own. The fires cease and the hallway is empty. He kneels down by the great beast and looks into its eyes.

 

Excerpt
"You remember what Death said when she used you as a medium?" Josh asks.
"How could I forget,slay the one disquised as a holy man who wears the mark of the beast," Mark answers, as he feels a coldness seize his heart.