The Stolen Child by MacDonald Bruce

Author:MacDonald, Bruce
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9921328-0-4
Publisher: BCI
Published: 2014-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

Broken Promises

“I can only imagine what you must think of us,” Moloch said.

He and Matthew were comfortably seated in the back of a Rolls Royce, driving through New York. There was a tinted privacy window between them and the driver. Matthew sat silently looking at the city through the tinted window.

“That’s right, you’re a country boy, aren’t you?” Moloch said.

“Yes,” Matthew said. “I lived in the woods.”

“Ever been to the city?”

“Toronto, a few ball games, one hockey game, but I’ve never slept over.”

“You’ll find sleep very difficult now.”

“I’m not the least bit tired,” Matthew said.

They passed a green road sign that said, Welcome to Westchester County.

“As I said, sleep is a part of your past now. You are the serpent mother’s heir. I thought we’d go to a ritual before lunch.”

They drove another ten minutes and then turned into a church parking lot. Moloch and Matthew got out of the car. Moloch adjusted the cuffs under his suit jacket.

“A church?” Matthew said.

Moloch smiled and put his arm around Matthew’s shoulder.

“God is the very best business a demon incarnate could be in.”

They walked into the church together, past the two suits inside of the door. There was no visible security in the parking lot or on the street.

Some of the most powerful people in the world were gathered in this small Presbyterian Church, but they were incognito, at a function that was in nobody’s public or professional calendar.

The rituals were what bonded them, these dark humans and demons.

Moloch loved the rituals. He did more of them than Belial and Mammon together. Strange, as Moloch was the most logical of the demons, the brains they called him. A red carpet had been rolled down a set of stairs to the basement of the church. Moloch and Matthew walked into the change room where the Reverend robed for service. Moloch hung his suit jacket carefully in a locker. A young change room clerk appeared.

“Ah, yes,” Moloch said. “Would it be possible to find a robe for my friend here?”

“Yes, Mr. Cohen.”

The clerk left.

“Even though you’re the new witness, it would be rude to attend in street clothes. I mean, you’re dressed like a hillbilly.”

Matthew looked himself over. He had been wearing the same jeans and red check shirt since he left Sundridge. He looked at his hands. They were clean. His hair was soft, like it had been washed that morning. His breath tasted minty, though he had not brushed his teeth in days. Even his clothes smelled like they just came out of a dryer.

“The physiology of the witness is a curious thing,” Moloch said. “Wondrous even to us, one of the few reminders of the mystery on this planet. You will find little need for grooming, washing, or any other normal human function of body. There’s really no metabolism to the witness.”

They put on their crimson robes then walked through a door and down a flight of stairs.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.