Hell's Detective

Chapter Thirty-six- Rescue

As it turned out, Albert had decided that on the day his sister was brought back to him alive and well, he really needed to visit an old, abandoned warehouse.

He slipped through the back door, and Follows trailed a safe distance after him. When he was sure he was out of sight, he pried the door open and peered inside.

The warehouse was empty, yards of echoing space save for a dozen or so hooded figures surrounding a stone altar. They couldn't have been older than teenagers, university kids at most. But that wasn't the only strange thing. Their black sleeves were pulled up above their forearms and symbols, similar to the ones Spicer had used on the children, were carved into their own flesh like gruesome tattoos.

All in all, Follows found this slightly suspicious.

He closed the door as softly as he could and knelt down behind a black curtain, ignoring his leg's dull moan of protest. A blonde girl with mean eyes and a permanent looking scowl stalked towards Albert, her robes trailing along behind her like waves in a stormy sea.

"Where the hell is she?" she hissed.

Albert suddenly became very interested in his feet. "It's gone," he muttered. "Mum and dad got some priest to exorcise her."

"We need that demon, Albert," she snapped, and Follows winced. It was strange seeing such a little girl so menacing. Like when a puppy turned around and attacked you. "Without it, the ritual is incomplete."

Things were starting to slowly slip into place. It was Albert. He was the one who had tied Pippin down and forced the demon into her. He was behind all this. No wonder he'd tried to drive Follows away from the house. And he was doing it for what? This cult of teenagers? Follows had faced nightmares and demons and the son of the Devil, but this...this was evil.

A robed figure stepped forward, his face disappearing into the shadows under his hood.

"Brothers, sisters," he said. His voice was loud and booming, like a priest's. It commanded the unbridled attention of everyone in the room.

Albert and the girl jumped slightly, as if his mere voice was going to reach across the room and throttle them, and scurried into the circle.

"Today marks the day we offer ourselves to higher beings," he continued. "Welcome them with gratitude and awe. Don't be afraid, for our lives don't matter, only our purpose in their glorious plans for this universe."

A sickening realization dawned on Follows. They were going to offer themselves up for possession, just like Spicer had done with the children.

He needed to do something. And fast. These kids had no idea what they were getting into.

"Zadrian," he whispered into the cross. Nothing happened. What the hell was the point of their connection if he kept being put through to answer phone?

The figures in the circle held hands. "Hail!" they called up to the Heavens. "Hail! Hail! Hail! Ha-"

"Stop." The leader's voice cut through the chants like a knife. He lowered his voice, his hood drifting to each one of the robed figure accusingly. "There is one among us who does not believe."

They shrank back under his gaze, and Follows took that as his cue to leave. He turned to the door and came face to face with a hood-clad man. The man smiled nastily, hooked an arm around Follows' elbow, and he was hauled into the dim light.

Several figures gasped as he broke through the circle. A few hissed. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him to his knees.

The leader approached him slowly, gripped his chin with cold fingers. Follows glared into the blackness under his hood, heart pounding. His leg screamed at him, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out.