Mark of the Beast by Brian Ball

Author:Brian Ball [Ball, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dark fantasy, devil, horror, satan, thriller
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2011-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

A DREAMY lassitude filled Janice as she left the church. The thing inside her began to murmur, as it could sometimes, thickly and without making sense, but with a great sweetness too. She moved slowly, listening to its unformed and unborn demands. She had never felt so powerful. She laughed with pleasure at the memory of what she had done.

“That priest!”

“It was easy!” Myra exploded.

Somewhere inside what was left of Janice’s soul, a memory struggled.

“Alan—”

“What about Alan!” jeered Myra.

“Oh, my poor Alan—”

Then a raging torrent swamped her mind, and Janice began to giggle.

“I think he’s trying to save me. Save me! Me—the One has chosen! Because He comes through me!”

Janice felt the thing swell. Was it like a pregnancy? Belly full, heart leaping madly. She remembered what other women had told her. And then it became alarmed, and she had to grit her teeth against its agony that was hers too.

“Kelipoth!”

Janice felt her bones dissolve as it bayed its terror. It was the cry of the aborted.

“No!” she called back. “Wait, my darling! There is life—there is blood for you, blood!”

* * * *

Ruane had known the thing would find him. The knowledge had been with him since the night it had called out in malicious triumph across the shallow hills. And now, before him, was the first sign of its passing, this half-crazed man as lonely as death.

Ruane closed his eyes.

Why should it be him, Ruane, to take up the challenge?

“We’ll get out of the rain,” he said.

They passed a group of white-faced women huddled outside a lighted shop. Two police cars arrived and Ruane felt a nagging idea deep below the level of conscious thought, but it passed as soon as it came.

By the time they reached the transport café, Ruane was almost sober. The booze was in his bones, permeating every fibre, but he could think and reason, listen and plan. He guided Alan to a table.

“You did see it?” Alan said dully, as Ruane brought cups of tea.

“I saw it.”

“I did too, whatever the priest says!” He knew that Ruane could help him now. The knowledge that he was not alone brought a great peace. “She can make things different, though. Can’t she?”

Ruane recognized the uncertain logic of the drunk.

“Where is your wife now?” he asked, to keep the man from sliding into the inviting oblivion he himself knew so well.

“She was at the church.” Alan shuddered. “With the other one. God knows where she is now!”

Ruane saw the torment and felt doubt. A sense of dread came too. Whatever terrorized the young man could communicate itself directly to others.

“So your wife is the one? And it began about a month ago?”

Alan nodded. “Three weeks and three days. When we went to a séance.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

Alan’s eyes began to shade over.

“Listen! The name you said—when you shouted tonight. Kelipoth—the name of the Devil’s spawn! Where did you hear it? Where?” Ruane leant forward and shook Alan Charnock

Alan Charnock felt the blackness crowding in on him.

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