Knock Three Times

28. White Moves First

                    A WHITE WITCH HOVERED before a freestanding door, a frame encased within a crumbled wall where part of the cement factory had collapsed long ago. Engravings carved into the archway illuminated a brilliant white in the dim red moonlight, as though sensing the presence of divinity, though many demon children guarded it. The blood-thirsty hounds of Hell barked and roared with a vicious and rabid desperation beyond the windows above, salivating with anticipation their granted permission to break free. They could smell their fear, the timid among the four intruders like an enticing pie cooling on a window sill. Harris Hangman stood to her left struggling to keep his fear in check; where Ozzy seemed quite the opposite, standing bold on her right side with a look of indifferent boredom in his eyes. The three Magi formed a guardian trinity of protection around the least experienced, a frightful Joshua Davidson trembling with an encrypted dagger shaking in his hand.

    An unsettling shroud of uneasy apprehension fell upon them as the moon's crimson hue stained the wastelands like blood, foretelling the madness to come and dyeing the storm clouds that rolled in like a lion from above. Rain fell gently as flashes of lightning ripped through the sky.

    'Spare the children if you can.' said Ms. Nicks, her demeanour calm and steady. 'The hounds will go for the jugular, so protect your neck. They are weak in the eyes, so aim straight for the kill shot if possible. One error, and none of us going home.'

    'I can't do this.' Josh trembled with fear, sweat beading on his brow, and eyes wide as he watched the sheer mass of creatures within the warehouse, moving restlessly in the shadows.

    'Then you leave the fate of your family to chance.' Ozzy reminded. 'Use it; let fight-or-flight guide your instincts. Do not think, only react.'

    The petrified father gulped, steadying his nerves as best he could.

    'Know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em, Mr. Davidson,' reminded Stevie, no doubt possessing some sort of inner sight into his own family lessons. 'Or are you too good for the Rog?' she turned and winked.

    'Yeah, I know,' he barked back in frustration. 'Fucking rock and roll legends rubbing my own shit in my face . . .' he muttered which only made her chuckle.

    Hovering through the air in a circular formation all around the gateway were the possessed children of Belleville, those who were turned simply because they were not the chosen Oracle, and not baptized in their youth. Their jaws were slacked, heads tilted like idle marionettes—their eerie, lifeless eyes striking at heart of Joshua Davidson, but there was no turning back. His family needed his help, and no matter how disturbing the circumstances his bravery was all that mattered—his willingness to endure. Though his hands were clammy and trembling as he gripped his weapon, his breath quickening by the second, the loving father would not be moved.

    'You are not permitted to enter, Sorceress Supreme.' the centered child spoke with the voice of an elderly hag. 'The blessed are not to step within the gateway, Magi or otherwise.'

    Ms. Knicks lowered her brow, a slight smirk on her face.

    'Fear not, child; there is no need to enter. The secrets of this temple are many, and I am no stranger to their design.' A thick stream of light and whirling patterns emerged from the tip of her staff, and her hooded companions stood braced in a triangle formation, at the ready for what was about happen.

    'W—what is she doing?' asked Josh, overly nervous as he could feel the earth rumble violently beneath the soles of his shoes. Screeching steel reverberated from below, as though gargantuan gears were turning deep beneath the earth.