Point Pleasant (54 page)

Astrid spluttered in horror and stumbled rearwards into Daniel.

“Run!” Ben screamed to shock the officers out of their terror-induced stupor. “Back to the factory, now!”

Daniel grabbed Astrid’s arm, and they raced from the clearing. Astrid let out another scream when a large branch fell in front of them and blocked their path.

The rushed flutter of dead leaves filled the forest. It was as if the sky had decided to rain tree limbs as heavy shapes crashed to the forest floor.

“Just fucking run!” Ben called out and leapt over an especially large bough that had just hurtled from above.

Daniel pulled Astrid through the barrage of falling branches. The loud whipcrack of a fired shotgun rang behind them. Ben scanned the area for Nicholas.

The sheriff stood exactly where he had when the little girl’s body had shifted and elongated into the grotesque form that now loomed over him. Another gunshot echoed through the forest, and Ben yelled when the dark figure in front of Nicholas morphed into a spiraling cloud of crimson-colored electricity. It shot skyward like a focused, bloody discharge from a Tesla coil and disappeared into the trees.

“Nic!”

Determination settled into the rigid line of Nicholas’ silhouette as he trained the barrel of his shotgun toward the treetops. Ben raced to Nicholas’ side, and his stomach clenched when he heard the sickening symphony of groaning, snapping wood from the branches overhead. He saw the heavy mass before he fully realized what was crashing down from where it had been positioned precariously atop the limbs of the ancient oaks.

“Nic, move!” Ben screamed and threw himself at Nicholas.

They sprawled across the forest floor as the Camaro crashed where Nicholas had just been poised. The revolting metallic clash and clatter echoed through the otherwise soundless forest.

Nicholas’ eyes were wide with shock. Ben heaved himself up and hauled Nicholas to his feet.

“Fucking run!” Ben yelled into Nicholas’ face, and the other man seemed to snap out of his daze.

He grabbed Ben’s hand, and they ran. Once again and without the aid of a DeLorean, they were like the twelve-year-old versions of themselves running from the monster in the woods.

As they approached the factory, Ben spared a look over his shoulder. The swirling current of red energy that had disappeared into the darkness was barreling after them like a bull chasing a matador. Ben pushed Nicholas to send him hurtling through the opening in the factory wall. He leapt over the thick line of salt as well, but he lost his footing and fell over Nicholas just as an inhuman roar shook the foundation of the building.

Ben pulled himself up onto his elbows and saw
red
. The strange electricity churned and funneled at the gaping hole in the wall as if trying to squeeze its way inside. The salt line remained in tact, and Ben watched with horror as a murky luminosity flickered inside the cloud of energy like glimpses of lightning through angry storm clouds, bathing the factory in a haze of scarlet.

Nicholas clambered upright and pulled Ben to his feet. He clutched Ben’s right forearm as the energy seemed to multiply and crept forward to cover all of the windows of the building.

The rest of the group had retreated to the center of the room. Stewart prayed aloud, and his mumbled words rushed off the tip of his tongue in a frenzy.

“Why the hell’d you go outside?” Tucker demanded.

Ben shook his head as the smoke disappeared upward, and the ceiling tiles above them trembled with alarming force. Some of the looser tiles crashed to the factory floor. Astrid pushed Daniel aside just as one fell where he had been standing seconds before.

“Christ!” Nicholas yelled.

“Don’t you dare blaspheme, Sheriff!” Marietta called from her place in the middle of the sigil where Ben noticed she was still bent over as she continued to draw intricate symbols on the floor in chalk rather than paint.

“What do we do?” Nicholas asked, alarm shaking his voice.

“Just give him a minute,” Marietta replied.

Him, being Raziel,
Ben thought, and he scowled as dust rained from the ceiling’s remaining tiles.

Without ceremony, the noise overhead ceased. Ben held his breath. The factory was quiet and still.

“There,” Marietta said as she stood and assessed her work with satisfaction.

The pit had been circled with red paint and surrounded by a line of salt. Around the pit, a Star of David had been painted so that its points connected with each of the six marks Marietta had laid down when she first took out the can of spray paint. Another circle of red linked the corners of the star, and the hexagonal shape Ben had observed before their trek into the forest further linked the six marks. A nonagon bordered the hexagon, and a final circle of salt enclosed the entire sigil. At the edges of the nine-sided polygon, Marietta had drawn a series of symbols that looked almost like an alphabet, but there were also strange shapes and characters that Ben did not recognize.

“You sure that’s right?” Ben asked. “It doesn’t look very angelic.”

“And you would know?” Marietta asked, shooting Ben a glare. “You hush and get over here. We have to prepare the summoning.”

“Summoning? He’s already here!” Nicholas said as Ben joined Marietta, who was pulling small containers and bundles of herbs out of her bag.

“That wasn’t
him
,” Marietta said, eyeing Nicholas with unease.

“You mean he’s already opened the… doorway?” Nicholas asked, seeming to stumble for an appropriate word.

“It’s happening now, but it’s just the one so far,” Marietta said. “Azazel knows what we’re up to, he won’t risk exposing himself yet. Take this.” She passed a handful of strange smelling herbs to Ben. “You grind these into that bowl over there,” she said and pointed at a terra cotta dish with a matching pestle. Ben complied as Marietta offered Astrid and Daniel two bottles of what looked like oil. “You two anoint the four corners and be quick about it.”

“What can I do?” Nicholas asked, stepping forward.

Marietta gave him a small knife with an ornate wooden handle. “You draw the blood from Benjamin when he’s done with the myrrh.”

Ben spared a furtive glimpse and caught sight of Nicholas’ concerned scowl.

“What blood?” Nicholas demanded.

“Benjamin’s blood. We need it for the ceremony,” Marietta replied.

“
Why?
”

“Nic, it’s fine,” Ben said as he continued with his task of crushing the herbs. “Just come over here.”

Marietta turned her attention to the other ingredients. Stewart and Tucker stood a few feet away. Tucker twirled his Saint Christopher medal between his thumb and forefinger. He cleared his throat, and Marietta waved at him.

“You just wait there and keep doing what you’re doing, William. Praying is what we need now.”

He really has found his faith,
Ben thought.
Funny, that.

“Why does she need your blood, Ben?” Nicholas asked in a whisper when he joined Ben’s side.

“To summon him.”

“Why
your
blood?”

“Because I broke the other sigil. Apparently.”

A clap of thunder jarred the roof, and Ben jumped at the sudden burst of sound. A bolt of lightning lit up the night sky, and Ben bristled when the dark shadows of the trees around the factory windows were illuminated. The forms looked strange, but he could not place what was off about their appearance. Unsettled, he resumed crushing the herbs.

“They’re moving,” Nicholas whispered after another blast of lightning.

“What?” Ben asked. He twisted around to look when he finished with the myrrh.

“The shadows,” Nicholas replied, his voice almost inaudible. “Watch the shadows.”

Lightning struck again after another loud thunderclap, and Ben stared out one of the windows. The shadows he had first mistaken for the silhouettes of the trees around the edge of the factory were indeed moving
toward
the building.

“Sweet Jesus,” Stewart uttered.

Marietta waved her right hand at Nicholas to catch his attention. “Sheriff, the blood! Cover the myrrh with it.”

“Just do it,” Ben said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it to the floor. He held his arm to Nicholas.

“Sorry for this,” Nicholas whispered. His lips pursed into a thin line as he gripped the knife. He took Ben’s wrist in his hand and lifted it with gentle care despite what he was about to do.

Careful to avoid a major vein, Nicholas cut a deep line into Ben’s forearm. Ben hid a wince. Dark crimson trickled down his pale skin, and he held the bowl under his arm to catch the flow. Nicholas shifted uncomfortably at the sight.

Ben tilted his arm so that the blood dripped quicker and thoroughly coated the myrrh. The smell of the amalgamation was herbal and exotic with a metallic tinge from his blood.

Marietta checked on their progress. “That’s good, that’ll do,” she said and took the bowl from Ben.

Thunder rumbled above. Nicholas still held onto Ben’s wrist with his fingers laced around Ben’s hand. Ben tried to smile when Nicholas gave a reassuring squeeze. Tucker appeared and offered a small bandana from his pocket.

Nicholas released Ben’s hand to tie the fabric around his forearm. Anxiety flickered in his blue eyes as he tightened it to staunch the blood.

“I don’t like this at all,” he said, his voice lowered to a whisper.

“How do you think I feel? My
car
,” Ben said and gestured out to the forest the held the ruined remains of his Camaro in a limp attempt at levity.

Nicholas grimaced, and Ben understood why when he peered over at the breached wall before his gaze trailed around to all the window frames that lined the factory. Thick swirls of that same red energy—no, it was definitely
not
energy
now, Ben realized, as it was thicker and more tangible like a solid mass—had engulfed the entire building.

“All right,” Marietta called out. “Front and center.”

Astrid and Daniel had finished anointing the four corners—whatever that meant—and they joined the rest of the group in the center of the room.

Marietta doled out small bundles of dried sage and matches to everyone except Ben. “Here,” she said. “When I tell you to, you all light these and let the smoke billow out around the perimeter of the outer circle.”

Astrid seemed perplexed when she sniffed at the herb. “Sage?”

“It’s for cleansing,” Marietta replied. “Better than Lysol ‘cause it keeps the spirits out.”

“I’ll have to remember that for future housewarming gifts,” Astrid said, and her voice wavered as another slap of thunder rumbled overhead. She stole closer to Daniel, who was inspecting his own parcel.

“Okay,” he said. “So what happens, exactly?”

“Benjamin stands in the center of the hexagram. I will take the south point when the time comes,” she said. “For now, Mayor Stewart takes the southwest, Mr. Tucker the southeast,” she paused and gestured behind herself. “Deputies, you each take the northwest and northeast. Sheriff, you get the north.”

“Why a Star of David?” Ben asked.

Stewart flinched away from the group. “This ain’t even Christian!”

“You hush, Silas,” Marietta said. “No one’s got it right. It doesn’t matter what you believe so long as you keep yourself open to belief. Now, it’s important you all remain in your places. Whatever happens, don’t leave your corner. We’ll lose the channel of energy.”

Ben saw Astrid and Daniel nod, though their eyes betrayed their dread. Tucker seemed almost calm, which only added to Ben’s disquiet.
Maybe Saint Christopher was actually listening.

Nicholas appeared to be taking the situation in stride. Ben wondered if it was because the idea of acting on orders was a comfort to a man who had spent over a decade of his life following under his father’s steady command.

“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas said. “Do we need to do anything else?”

“No, just hold your corners. Is that clear?” she asked and sent a deliberate look to Stewart, who stood stiffly behind her.

Stewart took his corner. His gait was rigid with a controlled steadiness. It was like he was steeling himself to not run screaming into the cloud of crackling crimson outside.

Marietta hesitated before she spoke again. “Keep your guns close. You’ll need them.”

“You want my medallion?” Tucker asked, stepping closer to Ben. His baseball cap partially concealed the deep frown lines that creased his forehead. “Might be good luck.”

Ben tugged the leather cord out from under the collar of his t-shirt. “Got my own.”

Tucker squinted at the arrowhead, laughed, and then headed to his corner.

A quick sweep of the room showed everyone but Nicholas had taken their places with their sage bundles and shotguns. Piles of spare ammo and the iron pokers littered the room within easy reach of every point Marietta had specified.

“Just be careful,” Nicholas whispered.

“You too.”

“Sheriff, your corner,” Marietta said, clearing her throat. She had entered the sigil and taken her place by the pit. Her leather satchel rested by her feet. The two bowls of herbs, along with another one that contained something Ben could not see, had been placed at the outer edge of the innermost circle.

Nicholas’ eyes betrayed his fear, but he retreated to his position without further comment. Ben took his place in the center of the hexagram and faced Marietta, noting that the gaping hole in the floor divided them like the river over which Raziel had once perched.

“What do the corners have to do with channeling energy for summoning it?”

“Nothing,” Marietta said. “We need it for the part that comes after to return the grace.”

“He here?” Ben asked, shifting from foot to foot as his thoughts strayed to the archangel who had orchestrated the entire ritual.

Marietta nodded.

“Where?”

“Just focus on me, Benjamin,” Marietta said. “And stay calm.”

She took a bowl that she had used for crushing another set of herbs and dumped its contents into the pit. The sickly sweet scent of frankincense and soil wafted up from the depths.