The Dark Sacrament by David Kiely

Author:David Kiely [David M. Kiely and Christina McKenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061741890
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2007-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

EDWARD AND CORNELIUS

“How did you know my uncles?” he asked in disbelief. Davage was still on the porch.

“I didn’t know them in life, but I met them in spirit. I talk to the dead. Or rather,” he continued with a chuckle, “they talk to me.” He looked up at the house. “This was their home. They never meant your father to have it, but you have it now. Perhaps that’s your mistake. Perhaps you must pay the price. It’s dangerous to meddle with the wishes of the dead.”

Shane was stunned. How could this stranger know so much? He had never met him before that day.

By now, the three women had returned to the car.

“It lives—” Davage began. The car engine started. “Sorry, I have to go now.”

“What the f*** are you talking about, ‘it’? What the f*** is ‘it’?”

Davage stepped back, wincing. “I do not care for your language Mr. Dwyer.”

“And I do not care for your brazen cheek! Now what the hell was that in the room just now?”

“A spirit, Mr. Dwyer. An evil spirit—a demon, some might say. It lives under the hearthstone in that room. That’s its pit. It goes to ground there whenever you bring clergymen in or when you’re saying prayers. But prayers are useless against it.”

Shane did not know what to make of it all. What he was hearing went beyond his comprehension. He recalled Father Dorrity mentioning the hearthstone, too.

“What does it…what does it…”

“What does it want?” Davage finished the question for him. “Oh, it wants you—or your soul, to be more exact. Pray all you want, but it won’t do any good. You are paying the price for your trespass. I came here tonight to buy you more time. But I can’t protect you much longer. It’s very simple: you sell the house and leave, or stay put and risk damnation. It’s up to you.”

With that, he was gone. The car sped off, leaving a trail of dust and a great deal of panic in its wake.

No sooner had Shane shut the door than he heard a crash. It came from the green room. Moya was there before him. She was pale. On the timber floor lay the shattered remains of the crucifix that he had hung there so many months before. He wondered about the premonition Moya had had that first day, how she could have sensed that all was not right with the house.

There came a second crash, this time accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.

In the red room, the room they had just vacated, the picture of the Sacred Heart, the focus of their prayers, lay broken and ruined on the floor.

“Jesus!” was all Shane could say.

The destruction of the images marked the beginning of a spate of such attacks. From that day on, no picture, crucifix, or other sacred object was safe. It was as though the visit of the strangers had unleashed the fury of something unholy.

The Dwyers had had enough. They could not even ensure the children’s safety in daylight.

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