Chapter 1: The Invocation

It was almost midnight. The sound of heavy metal music filled the filth-ridden room of an unknown crypt. Also, the smell of stale beer that came out from the rejecting bellies of those drunk lowlifes scattered through the midnight atmosphere. But of course, they were not aware of it.

One was sitting there at one corner, still not through with vomiting, two others were on an altar.

"Get the dagger, man," Andreas, the self-proclaimed leader of the group said, pointing to the black bag which they carry their unholy possessions. Jesse, still feeling dizzy from overdrinking, stuttered towards the bag, his eyes almost closed in exasperation.

"Hey, where'd you say it was�"

***BOOOOMMMM***

Jesse's feet couldn't take too much anymore, and by the terrifying boom of thunder, he fell off balanced and knocked his head on the concrete floor.

"Shit, man�" Jesse was knocked hard, but the pathetic grin on his face still won't disappear.

"Stop wasting time, it's almost midnight," Andreas caught a glimpse of their alcohol-sick friend. "Hey, Jeff, wake the fuck up!"

Jeff could not offer more than a pitiful nod and a malicious groan.

"unhhhh�"

"C'mon, man! Get up your assess."

Jesse managed to fetch the dagger from the bag and handed it to Andreas. The dagger was gothic in appearance, and on its hand guard, were perched faces that looked like demon facing each other. Against the dark background, its blade emitted a bright purple haze that made Andreas look scared.

"Oh man this is gonna work�" Andreas let off a slight grin, but he realized that there was no use in talking to his assistants; Jesse, too was out cold now. He was now left to continue with the ceremony alone. He stared at both of his assistants coldly, as if he was going to act out revenge on them.

You'll see that this is no bullshit.

Andreas stood in front of the altar, with the Black Book in his right hand. He laid the book on the altar, and lit the two black candles in front of it. He forcefully shoved the dagger onto the concrete altar, and to his amazement, it went right through the hard marble, as if some mythical force shove it throughs. He opened the book slowly, still hesitant to let go of the dagger. He felt the dagger's strange energy and through it, he felt strong and powerful . While his eyes were still fixed on the unholy dagger, he slowly flipped the pages of the Black Book.s

The Black Book revealed that its pages were almost crisp because of its brownish color. It was old, perhaps older than that. Andreas slightly touched the book surface. Without looking at it, the surface felt like hard metal. It felt like it was alive. Then all of a sudden, his hands were forced away by some unholy wind. He looked at the pages being flipped by the invisible force, and stared deeply at the occurence with awe.

Holy shit�

He started mumbling to himself. All this was making his skin crawl, and made him want to forget about this ceremony, but there was this strong urge that made him want to continue.

***RUMBLE***

"FUCK!"

Andreas literally jumped off the floor in fright. The sudden, tremendous shudder of thunder was all that was needed to produce the pathetic effect. "Cursed weather..."

The weather tonight was pretty peculiar. Thunder booms every now and then and rain immediately came out of nowhere. Everything is clueless, as if the gods are angry. Andreas was going to proceed with the experiment, although he knew deep inside that it was against his own will.

He closed his eyes for a few moments. Behind those shut eyelids, Andreas' imagination went wild and fractious. He knew something evil was about to happen, he knew that something sinister was lurking behind those shadows, but he persisted to the cries of his soul. He proceeded with the ceremony.

Andreas took a deep breath to take off and dissolve all his fears, but it was no use. He cautiously opened his eyes.

When his eyes could already perceive, he saw a different sort of light, perhaps ultra-violet, as it was purple, which he never saw before. The light was coming from above and shone down on the altar. He gazed at the light deeply, and the mythical light caught him in its spell. He could or would not take his eyes off it, as it was so mysteriously beautiful. Neither heaven nor hell could explain it, but the light was within his grasps; he realized that it was him who summoned it.

Andreas gasped in shock and he realized that all this sorcery shit was true. He looked up at the source of the purple light, and slowly followed the immense beam that fell down to the book. Although the purple beam seemed to be coming from the ceiling at first, Andreas then realized that it was coming from a bright disk on the top of the page. On first sight, it would look like one of those holograms, but on looking closely, it looked so real, that Andreas almost touched it. The was highlighting a text, a part from the Black Book. It read Invocation of the Spirits.

He looked at the verses word by word, as if trying to analyze each of their meanings. The words were hard to spell, but he heard his mind recite them, as if practicing them unconsciously. In his head, it sounded strange, and he felt his nerve tell him to recite the strange verse. The good left in Andreas cried out for him to conceive the power that he was about to unleash, but the dark, opposing force inside him was the only matter that Andreas could realize. His mind was blocked by the idea of the immense power that was about to be his own, to do his each and every bidding. He opened his mouth and he was amazed by how fast the words came out, it was as if he was literate in this strange form of language.

"O Powerful and Mighty Spirit of Htore, grant me this dark and angry night thy great wisdom and power�"

Andreas didn't know that he was already shouting, but still he continued.

"I command you to come forth, and do my bidding� I INVOKE THEE� I INVOKE THEE! WAKE UP HTORE! BE AT MY WILL!!!"

Andreas slowly opened his eyes and fixed his gaze at the altar, as if he suddennly woke up from a trance which he, himself brought about to himself. The purple beam was still shining upon the book and slowly, cautiously, all of the supernatural's power delivered themselves into the physical plane. The marble stone in which Andreas had thrust the dagger dispersed a dark, red liquid - fresh blood. The stone was bleeding.

"Fuck�" was all he could say as he felt something hiding beneath the shadows behind him. He knew it was there, he didn't know how he knew, but he just knew.

*THUMP*

*THUMP*

He heard abominable knocking and hitting within the crypt. It was as if the dead was about to become the undead. It was just like in the movies, but only far more horrible, far more inconceivable than one could imagine. Andreas realized that he had made one great mistake, perhaps the greatest mistake that he had achieved in his lifetime. He had regretted this, oh yes, as fear subtly showed in his face. The sounds became louder and louder.

*THUMP* thud*

*THUMP* thud*

He looked at the tombs directly in front of him and he realized that the horrifying sound came from those. Then slowly, he felt the ground moving. And then the tombs, and then the whole goddamn crypt. Andreas then realized that he should not have done what he did. He looked at his assistants, Jesse and Jeff, lying as if dead cold on the ground. He could not think straight.

Soon, everything inside the crypt started making noise. Andreas could not move from where he was. He was paralyzed in fear of what he had unleashed.

creak�

creak�

He felt something behind him, sneaking up on him. Andreas still refused to move a muscle. He closed his eyes to try to ward off the fright, but it did not help. The sounds just kept getting stronger and stronger, when all of a sudden�

Nothing.

All the frightening sounds of horror were gone. Not a single sound. He opened his eyes, very slowly. He saw that the purple light was gone, without a trace. The Black Book was still there, opened on the page he had left it. But there was one thing missing, and he failed to notice it. The dagger was gone, and all that was left of it was a small cut on the marble, but blood was still pouring out. Other than that, everything was back to normal.

Andreas looked at his friends.

"Still there, fuckin sleeping�" He felt his emotions gone wild. He laughed so hard that his hideous snicker could be heard across the entire cemetery. His laughing never ceased for a moment, for he was gratefulk that he had escaped death...as if he had escaped death. But he was wrong. He didn't escape death, death was only hiding, waiting�

Without warning Andreas felt a strong wind pass through him, with the cold blade flying out of nowhere andn shoved itself through his forsaken rib cage, into hiss heart, as he did to the marble. He gasped for air, every breath ever so crucial to his survival. He felt the cold dagger in his heart bringing him a very excrutiating pain. He could not scream, although he wished it so hard, but he just could not.

Andreas was still alive, but he heavily hoped otherwise. This could all not be happening, he thought. But it was. He had regretted the horror that he had shamefully unleashed. His ignorance cost him all his humanity, but he could not escape the fate which had awaited him.

The figure revealed itself. Its head was hideous and it looked like some God-forsaken beast. On opposite sides of its head were horns as hideous as the head that was wearing it. The beast towered the room, its head almost touching the ceiling. Aside from that, nothing else was horrible, as its body was covered in a dark, purple haze.

Andreas slowly opened his eyes, trying to dispense the heat of pain inside his fractured rib cage and his diluted heart. He felt even more pain as he saw the horror that was unfolding before his very eyes.

The beast was slowly shrinking in height, and its horns were slowly growing backwards. Its horrible head, casually shifted from monster to human. It was taking on a human form, a man., and it was grinning a dark, sinister sneer. But the horror did not stop there. The monster was about to speak.

"WHO DARES INVOKE THE POWERFUL HTORE?"

The monster's voice sounded so low, and yet so high pitched. Andreas could hardly believe his ears, as well his other remaining senses. The voice was merely a pitch higher from making it a low, grumbling, hideous sound.

Htore saw Andreas in a corner, scuffling for his life, with the dagger through his chest, his dark eyes widening in excitement.

"Ahhh... my faithful hatchling, it is you that had awaken my in my prison," he said, his eyes still widening.

Htore was coming closer to Andreas, every step resonating a deep thump. Andreas doubled over to try to hide from the monster, his infested heart beating faster and faster, spitting out huge amounts of blood.

"You need not be afraid of me, young sorcerer..."

Htore paused for a moment and turned into the hideous monster once again.

"...AS I AM GOING TO DELIVER A QUICK AND PAINLESS DEATH TO YOUR PITIFUL BEING!"

Htore stretched forth his gigantic arms and revealed a stinking, scaly hand that appeared to be crushing.

***CRUNCCCHHHHHH***

"AAAAggggggghhhhhhhh!!!"

Andreas' skull had been crushed like a destitute nut. He could not feel anything, less the pain which devoured his being. He screamed, but later, all was reduced to silence. All was left of his head was the bloody skin that hung on the crushed skull and two dark blue eyes that forcefully bulged out of their sockets. Red jelly-like substance slowly came out of the ears, of which appeared to be Andreas' brain.

On one corner of the room, Jesse sat like a frozen chicken. Htore sensed that something was moving, but he didn't let his prey know that he had known that already. Jesse desperately reached for the bag for the gun. He didn't take his eyes off the back of the monster, as he tried to get the gun.

Htore suddenly turned around and surprised his prey. He let out an ominous growl that made Jesse's pants wet with his own piss. He got the gun.

"DON'T MOVE, MOTHERFUCKER..."

Htore was amused by his prey's enthusiasm and fear. He raised a single finger which made Jesse a little bit too nervous...

***CLICK***

"Shit..."

***CLICK***

Jesse looked at Htore and back at his gun. Fright covered his face like a plague.

***CLICK***

***CLICK***

***CLICK***

With a swift move of the finger, Htore butchered Jesse as horrible as he did to Andreas.

***CLICK***

***CLICK***

***CLICK***

The hand still kept on pulling the trigger, even when it was already separated from its body just moments ago.

Htore gave out a monstrous howl and the entire crypt shattered in fear.

***CRASH***

The huge door flew open as he led himself outside. As he walked out of the crypt, a dark haze followed in his path. The full moon gradually turned red, as if it had been one of his. His eyes glowed sinisterly, and he looked victorious, and no man could stop him.

He stretched forth his hands commanded the nearby wolves to howl and the cats to screech, to show his power.

***RUMBLE***

Thunder had resonated loud and dark.

A woman.

A blonde, white, curvy girl, perhaps still in her teens. They showed, as her young, alabaster skin shone so delicately against the pale night moon-light. She had felt shivers as she felt something touch her back. Yeah. She liked it.

The girl graced her neck, allowing the sweet shiver slowly come up towards her craving upper neck.

"Ohhh�" her voice was as tender as an innocent child's, but as lustful as her senses would take her. She slowly raised her shapely arms towards her, and her fingers maneuvered themselves towards her own, beautifully grown breasts.

The fingers went upwards towards her luscious neck, as they were slowly about to untangle the lace of her silk night gown. Her anxious nipples slowly peered through the almost-invisible dress. She wanted more. Oh yeah, she wanted more.

"Ohhh, yesss�" she moaned. Her thighs had pulled themselves close together, to even send her senses to the extreme. She stopped unlacing her nightgown halfway through, as she had pulled her hungry hands down in between her thighs. She had bit her lips lustfully, asking for more. The finger on her back kept on arousing her sensations, and she kept on moaning for more. Her hands were between her thighs, almost tearing the silk nightgown, by doing a little exploring of her own.

"Ohhhhhhhh�"

Suddenly, the *other* fingers had stopped caressing her. The breeze was gone, and so was the shiver.

"Don't stop�"

The girl turned around and saw that it wasn't her boyfriend who was mysteriously caressing her back. It was the serial killer that everybody was talking about. The girl could do nothing but scream.

"AAAAHHGGHHHHHHHH!!!"

The scream was so high pitched, that the serial killer stabber her right through, just to stop the infernal noise. He had felt the blade go through the other side. He pulled the knife from the girl's bleeding belly.

And it was replaced by static. TV Static. And that awful *shhhhh* that followed it.

There were two,dark, frail figures. They appeared to be conversing. Drunk. And they both seem to stare at the flickering light coming from the TV. Their eyes were eternally drawn to the strange flickering light emanated from the TV. They were watching a movie. Not necessarily a good one.

The beer had almost spilled off to Johnny's pants as he heard something.

"Did you hear that, Ross?" Johnny's eyes were wide open. They darted across the small, dark living room, looking for that *something* which had caused his senses to go wild.

"Shut up, Johnny, you're drunk�"

"I'm serious man," Johnny hissed. He knew he wasn't hallucinating, and he most definitely knew that it wasn't the beer. Johnny was trying to keep his voice as low as possible. "For all we know, it could be those serial killers--"

ZZZZZZZZZZ.

Ross is asleep.

"Dammit, Ross!"

*THUD-CHUD*

"Huh--"

*THUD-CHUD*

"Ross, wake the fuck up, man�" The thud was getting louder and louder. Ross was out cold. Those bad alcohol.

*THUD-CHUD*

*THUD--*

Where's the 'chud'?

Too late.

A dark, horrible shadow came to view out from nowhere. The shadows were wild. It was almost 'glaring'. The last 'chud' had managed to rip off Johnny's stomach open. He hadn't realized that his guts were already exposed. And he didn't notice.

There were no screams.

Nothing.

He had been delivered a quick, painless death.

-----------------

Morning.

Jeff could still smell the awful stench of stale beer that surrounded him, although there was a new odor that smelled like a mix between vomit and spoiled spaghetti. He wasn't wide awake, although he could feel the swirling motion in his head caused by his being drunken. Jeff tried to cough, to try to throw up, but his belly could not figure things out by themselves. Still, his eyes were closed.

"Ohhh�" For the moment, that was all that he could say. Jeff slowly felt the strength come back to him. He gently opened his eyes. For a brief moment, he wanted them closed. He already had peeked out his eyelids, hoping to not see what he just did.

"Not Htore� oh please, not Htore�" Jeff opened his eyes, this time, a little bit more determined to find out what he thought he saw was.

But what he saw made him regret what he just did.

What he saw was beyond what his mind could describe. Not even in his gripping nightmares could he find the right descriptions to make his head believe what he just saw. All around the floor were scattered pieces of fresh, bloody meat. Crushed skulls, broken bones that were actually shattered that some of them looked like mere pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was a like he had been to hell. Only hell couldn't look this disgusting. He still had to figure what those meat were, but inside, he already knew what they were� WHO they were.

Jeff wanted to scream. But his stomach could hold on no more.

"PUWAAGHHHH!"

He threw up the rejected contents of his stomach. It only added to the horrible stench of the place. He could barely catch up with his breath, and his heart was pounding, he could hear his heartbeats from his ear. It was a bad feeling.

It was a bad feeling in the first place. If he was only not too drunk to *prevent* this from happening.

"I fuckin told you, man�" He spoke to the corpses, if only it was fit to call those butchered pieces of his friends that, as if they could still listen to him. But even if they could, it would mean nothing, as they couldn't do much rather than just lay there like a bloody feast. If only Jeff could cry right here, right now, but only he didn't know how.

Jeff slowly pulled himself together. He felt that swirling motion again, like a motion sickness. His stomach wanted to reject some more ooze out his mouth.

"Oh shit�PUWAAAAGHHH!"

More of his shit came out. It landed right on the broken skull of Andreas. His eye was settled on another corner. If Jeff wasn't this drunk, he'd swore that Andreas' eye was staring at him, saying, Don't puke on me, man�

Jeff's senses were a bit manageable now. He stared at the remains of his pathetic buddies, looking down at them in both disgust and pity.

"Fuck you, Andreas." He kicked the broken skull and it flew towards the other end of the crypt, making a disgusting *flop* on the wall. His football practices are finally paying off.

He went towards the altar and snatched the Black Book from the bleeding marble. Somehow, he knew that something was missing. The marble was horribly bleeding, and it pours out from a deep "wound" from the stone. It was a cut made from the consecrated dagger.

But where is it?

"Damn�"

The silence was broken with the sounds of cars whizzing outside. Then another noise was added.

*KNOCK*

*KNOCK*

*KNOCK*

It was voilent knocking. The wooden door flew open and there were figures outside. Jeff couldn't make out who they were, because the blazing sun disguised them. But the people seemed to be pointing some sort of object towards him. He was right.

The cops.

----------------

"Put your hands on the wall, asshole�" a voice demanded.

Ross could still trace the last scenes of his dream, but it were all shattered by someone pulling him from the couch and smashing him onto the wall. It was hard, that he felt his nose break and bleed. He could not tell why these fuckers were doing this to him, he doesn't even have the slightest idea of who they were and why there were assaulting him.

"HEY�what the--� WHAT 'cho wont?!!" Ross demanded.

"Shut your mouth, scumbag� You have the right to remain silent, and anything that comes out of that shitty mouth of yours shall be used against you in the court of law�"

Was that a cop? Ross tried to squeeze his body and turn his head around. His entire torso was pinned against the wall. He could do nothing but yell.

"HEYY! C'mon, I didn't do nothin� HEY!" Ross yelped. His hands were pulled from the wall and Ross felt the cold metal handcuffs being worn on him.

"What the FUCK?! Lemme go! I'm innocent!"

"If you call butchering your friend here as legal, then you're innocent." The words came to him like wildfire.

"Say what?!" Ross needed no further insisting. He twisted his entire body, and almost knocked out the cop that was tugging him.

"Oh God�"

Poor Johnny. The other night, they were just watching a movie, drinking their ass out. But now, look at him. He looks more like meat. If he didn't know what it was, he could have already served it for breakfast. Serve Johnny for breakfast. The butchery was *neatly* done, as if all of it was done in one clean cut. But surely, Ross knew he DIDN'T do it. The cops still looked at him with disgust and anger. They had the right to do so, after all, there were no evidences that would prove Ross to be other than guilty. He was the only one around during the carnage had happened. But how DID it happen. He was there all night� sort of. Well, maybe he did fall asleep. But if Johnny were being cut to pieces alive, perhaps Ross could have heard screams. It was all like a bad dream� a nightmare, except that he pretty much knew that he was not sleeping anymore.

"Now, you tell me�" said the cop, his blame on Ross still rising.

"Shut the FUCK up, man�" Ross was a centimeter near to crying. At this time, he didn't know what the hell else to do.

"Let's go�"

Ross was still looking, gawking at the bloody corpse� corpses of his buddy.

"G-gget your fingers away fr-from ME--" Ross literally stammered over his words.

"Come on�" the cop pulled him to the outside. Ross was on his ass as the cops pulled him. He was pathetic. He looked like a little boy whose paper airplane had been taken away. He was sobbing bitterly, but no tears rolled down his bloodshot eyes. He felt the hot morning sun heat his body, and the pavement was hot. But he didn't pull up, he was as pathetic as ever.

Ross wanted to say something. But the cops were too busy being disgusted to him.

I didn't do it�

8:30 am.

The rush hour. Dozens of cars whooshed by, trying to get ahead of the cars in front. The people behind the wheels yelled foully at each other, wanting to be the first to get out of this hell of a traffic. In reality, they could do nothing more than curse. It doesn't matter which words came out of their mouths, but it seemed to help them� help them ease the pressure some way or the other.

But one person could be the worst of them.

"He- what the fuck?!" Alfred, the driver yelled. "That fuckin bastard almost scratched my car!"

There was nobody to talk to, but he yelled loud enough for the other person on the other car which overtook him to hear, even though his windows were shut tight. As the other car eased on the road directly in front of him, the man on the wheel gave a finger.

Alfred swerved his head and tried to ignore the comment.

"Asshole�"

He was late for a corporate meeting, in which he was supposed to meet the boss. He was set for a promotion, but for all he knew, he may have already blew it. He was late, and all he could do was ride his car. And get pissed along the way. Things couldn't get any worse than this, he blew his chance for a promotion, and a goddamn Sunday driver almost scratched his new Diablo. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought the car anyway. But he wanted to, and he opted to. He was supposed to impress the boss.

The intersection smoothly curved to the right, and Alfred eased his car towards that direction. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a tall, dark man wearing tattered clothes made his way towards the road and almost got himself killed. It was hard to see through the glaring sunlight, and he almost could have driven over the punk. Or to put it in Alfred's situation, he almost could have killed the man. He instantly pushed the brakes, almost breaking it loose.

"HEY! Watch where you're going, asshole!"

He yelled as he irritated the man's ears with his car's annoying horn. The man returned a face towards Alfred, as if his life wasn't threatened in any way. He looked at Alfred with the utmost suspicion, staring endlessly at the features of his face, if he had some. Alfred was the regular prick, the one whom you'd get easily pissed when you're with him. The man looked strangely at him, and he looked like he was almost smiling, or grinning, or whatever you would put it.

Alfred himself returned a look. With his thick glasses, it was hard to see from the other side.

"Get off the street, punk," he hissed. But he suddenly realized that his windows were closed. How the hell could the man hear him? So he waved his hands jerkily, as if they would drive away the stranger from the middle of the road towards the other end of the street. But still, it didn't work. The man just stared emptily at him.

Alfred usually wouldn't raise down the window to strangers, especially not this kind, as he looked like he just came out of a fuckin grave. His clothes were torn and dirty and dark because of whatever oozing moist which caused it to look like it looked now. But he couldn't afford to lose his promotion over this. He pushed the power window button and stuck his head out the window. He was about to yell at the stranger, but he noticed that the man was coming towards him. He didn't know why the man was coming closer to him, but he had one idea.

The man looked crazy. A nut-case.

Alfred stuck his torso back in the car, where he'd thought it'd be safe. But he stared back at the man, as he stealthily approached him.

As the man neared him, Alfred noticed something different in the man. It was why the stranger kept staring at him in the oddest way. It was because the blacks of his eyes almost covered the sockets. There were no whites visible. Maybe the man was wearing some sort of contact lens, like the one he saw on MTV. What people would do for fashion.

But there was something else *different* in the man. Actually, there WERE plenty of things that would make this man seem abnormal. One thing was the way he walked, or limped; it was like he had missed walking for a long time, like he was crippled or something. Another was his unique stature. His body was shaped like nothing Alfred had ever seen before. The man's upper body looked like it had been in a million work-outs, but at the same time, it looked frail and lame. His face could show a lot of expressions at the same time, like the one he exhibits now. He looked confused, and at the same time, knowing.

The man approached the car, while Alfred cowered to press the button for the windows to go up. He darted his eyes across the road, but the road seemed empty now. It was as if time quickly had slipped away, and so did the cars which passed by. The road had no traffic. Alfred had realized that he had finally blew it; he blew his promotion, and if he'd known better, he blew everything � he could be jobless now. For all he knew, he could have been virtually fired already.

But he accidentally pressed the [down] button. The windows eased downwards, revealing the pathetic figure that was Alfred. The car's engine had died out. Alfred quickly turned the keys to the ignition, but the engine just whirred. It kept on whirring for moments, until it eventually died out. The stranger was standing directly outside of his car. He slowly bent downward to take a closer look at Alfred.

*creakkk*

Alfred could hear bones *cracking* as though they have never been used for a long time. He tried to ignore the man, and kept tinkering with the ignition as if he really knew how. He just bought the expensive car, and he really did not know anything about cars or how to fix them. All he knew was that it was expensive, and that was good enough for him. But the man's stare was hard to ignore.

Alfred twisted his neck to try to see the man, and who he was, and what he wanted. He figured it out, and reached for his wallet to get a dollar.

"He-here take this�" he said as he reached the crisp bill towards the man's fingers, as if it showed.

But the man just frowned. He kept staring at Alfred the same way he'd been before.

"TAKE IT, DAMMM� WHOA!"

The man suddenly yanked the cowering Alfred out of his car window. It was a great force, but Alfred almost didn't feel it. It was as if a strong wind had tugged him. Alfred found himself instantly at the outside of his car, directly facing the man. But it was odd. He felt nothing� he didn't feel any pressure or anything. It was as if� yes� he was floating.

"What the?!"

The man hadn't even lifted a finger. But somehow, he knew that the man was somehow responsible for this. And Alfred started yelping.

"HELPPPPP!!!"

But there was nobody to hear him. The road was deserted. No cars passed by. Maybe he had made a wrong turn somewhere, but it was no time to figure things out.

"HEEELPPPPP! LEMME GOOOOO!"

It was then that he realized how pathetic he was. It never really showed normally, but it definitely did now. The man *looked* at him in disgust. Of course, it never really showed, through those weird contacts, but something made him realize that those eyes weren't fake, as the man already exhibited some strange behavior that could prove that it wasn't just some get-up. The hot, blazing sunlight made Alfred's skin itch. Either it was the hot morning sun, or it was still the man's *powers* that caused it. Slowly, Alfred was rotated from his aerial horizontal position, which was so damn uncomfortable, to a slight vertical. But it was all the same. His feet couldn't reach the ground two feet below. But Alfred noticed that the man was enormously huge � tall. He was at least eight feet or so. He hadn't noticed that before. It was like the man had somehow changed when he got closer to him. Like some mutant or something.

Alfred was gasping for air as he slowly felt the oxygen being taken from him. He was choking.

"GHAACKKK�AAHKCKK�"

The man still stood there, all eight feet of him, as if waiting for Alfred to catch his last heartbeat. Alfred could feel his head being heated, as if it was burning. He was dying. Within the last few seconds of his life, he realized that he had blew it. The promotion was gone.

Alfred's body had died out. But still, Alfred felt pain. It was his soul. And he was in the mercy of Htore.

----------------------

*plipp�.plop*

*plipp�.plop*

Jeff stared at the old, rusted faucet by the sink directly in front of him. He was in a jail cell, and a definitely worn cell. He was in here for the past three hours but he couldn't tell. It was dark everywhere and the only thing he'd think worth staring was that damn faucet. Of course there was the toilet, with dirt clinging onto the sides. There was no telling that the last person who has sat there definitely had no toilet paper, and laid shit all over the place. There was nobody else around to talk to, and the cell was very dark. And it's much like that on the outside � on the prison hall. There weren't a lot of strange-ass punks in prison this time in this station, and it was awfully quiet. Another hour like this and he would really be fucked up by the annoying silence. The ringing in Jeff's ears were starting to irritate him.

But suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was a familiar noise which rattled his senses.

*whiinnggg�. KLUNK*

He wasn't going to be alone after all. There was another person joining him. Shadows cast themselves onto the prison floor as the first light entered the prison hall. There were three shadows. Jeff could make out that there were two jail guards escorting someone. The shadows were becoming smaller and they were replaced by persons. The man, about twenty-something looked wasted. He looked like he'd smoked a half a dozen pound of crack. His eyes were bloodshot. And finally Jeff realized that he was better off alone.

The man was still pounding. But it was reduced to mere whispers. It was like he'd lost all his strength just wanting to make a point that he was innocent. Just like Jeff would have done three hours ago.

"Let me go�. I'm innocent�" the man's voice faded to whispers. Then back to normal. Then again reduced to whispers. There was no doubt that this man was innocent, of whatever it is that he had committed, Jeff could see that. As he has been charged wrongly too. But the cops may have had evidence that would prove otherwise. It was like that for Jeff also� back in the cemetery. But Jeff already tried all that before, the other time when he got arrested for supposedly carrying a plastic full of dope which did not belong to him and rather belonged to Andreas, and there were no results. The cops in this community were a pain in the ass. Once you try to claim that you're innocent, you'll just be charged with resisting arrest. Mindless bastards.

One guard unlocked the cage and opened it, making a loud, reeking noise because of its rust. Probably because they've never even bother to dust the place out. They said that the scum of the community deserved to live in a scum of a jail. But the only thing was that they still have not been proven guilty. The other guard, who looked a lot meaner than the other pushed the next man inside. The man stumbled down, but hesitated. He stood up, trying to get hold of his strength, but of no use.

"Hey� get me out of here� HEEEEYYYY!"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole, you know they won't listen."

"HUH?!" The man spun around and saw that there was also someone there. It was too dark to see something, and Jeff was hiding beneath the thick shadows.

"Just sit the fuck down, man�" Jeff sighed.

Jeff didn't want to talk, but he had to do something other than just stare and listen to that annoying plop of the sink and bore to death.

"So, what'cha in for?" he said.

"Murder� no, more like butchery," the man replied.

"So am I supposed to be scared?" Jeff asked sarcastically.

"Fuck you. I didn't do it asshole, especially not to my best friend."

"Then why the hell are you here?"

*plop*

"Because I was found with the body � well, what remained of it., but goddamn! I DIDN'T fuckin do it, dammit!"

"Yeah? Am I supposed to believe you?" Jeff tried to be like the cops, annoying and selfish sons of bitches.

"I didn't ask for you to believe me� What the hell do you care?"

Jeff didn't answer. Instead, he tried to mask in his emotions. Somehow he knew that the man didn't do it. Besides, he looked too wretched to even think about murder. And another thing, he already HAD a pretty good idea of WHO did it. He turned around and faced the sink again.

*plip�PLOP*

"I really don't know how to stop the son of a bitch�" Jeff finally said, realizing that he had said it out loud. "What?" the man asked in confusion.

"Nothing."

"Hey, listen," the man tried to start a conversation. Jeff stretched his arms and lied on the hard, painful jail bed. He tried to ignore him. "I've never really told anyone this, but I think what I've dreamt three days ago have got to do something with all these."

"Yeah, right."

"No, listen. That night, I dreamt about a cemetery. There were three guys, one was drunk on the floor, and almost looked dead. The other one was half-drunk and the third guy was completely sober. That means he was capable of straight-thinking. Anyway, as the third guy�. Uh.. I think his name was Andreas and �"

"Say what?!" Jeff rose from his bed at the utter of his dead friend's name.

"Yeah, you know a guy named Andreas?"

"Go ahead�." Jeff hid his surprise, to try to listen on what the kid's got to say.

"Well, anyway, there he was. He asked the other guy's assistance with something that looked like a huge Black Book and a dagger, which the other guy fetched from their bag, and in doing so, he fell to the floor."

Jeff couldn't believe what he was hearing. The kid was narrating word for word of what had happened last night. He personally didn't know of what had happened to Andreas and Jesse, since all that he could remember was that he was throwing up huge quantities of shit out his mouth. It was amazing that all this could come out in a dream, that Jeff almost thought that he had been spying on them. But Jeff remained silent and listened.

"Then the man, Andreas started mumbling some chant or something, and the marble altar in which he had stuck the dagger began to bleed. Then there was a purple light coming from the ceiling, no it looked more like it came from the seal on the book. The seal was glowing purple. And afterwards, I realized that I came into the scene. Then everything went vague. All that I could remember was that someone was being torn to pieces. And afterwards, there was a shift in the dream. Everything went black and I found myself in my couch, with Johnny. It was odd, but in that dream was exactly what had happened last night. I remember watching a movie, and that was all that had happened last night. But there was still more to this dream than what had happened last night. I saw myself sleeping, but out of it, my body, came something. It was like a glowing fog coming out of my body. And there it was. I saw Johnny being raised to the air by a dark figure, all covered by my "fog". And then there was blood � everywhere. I saw pieces of meat splatter on the walls, much like the meat I saw this morning. And that was all, everything went black and my dream faded. I never really paid attention to that dream until early this morning. I think, as crazy as it sounds, that it was a warning� a prediction. But it's a too-fucked-up idea to believe, right?"

The man looked at Jeff, who was already in an upright position on the bed, looking back at him in the oddest sort of way.

"I told you it was crazy�"

"No it isn't. As a matter of fact, I dreamt that shit too, only not that part when you were sleeping," Jeff lied.

"Yeah? Cool." The man acted as if he was relieved from his sorrow earlier this morning. "And by the way, the name's Ross."

"I didn't ask for it�"

"What?" Ross said, confused.

"I said I didn't ask for your name, so piss off�" Jeff didn't know which was more worth listening to, Ross talking, or that annoying sink. To him, both are the same. Either way, he didn't want to hear him talk.

"Don't you have a name?"

"Why?"

"I just wanna know, you crazy fuck. What are you anyway, some sort of a nut?"

"All right! It's Jeff," he tried to wipe his annoyance, but it won't budge. Why was he even having this conversation?

"There you go, I knew you could say it�"

"One more word out of that mouth of yours and I'm gonna kick your ass," Jeff said, trying to look serious.

"Go ahead, see who gets hurt�"

Ross stood up from the hard, uncomfortable prison bunk and showed off his muscles. Obviously, he's seen a lot of trouble. Jeff tried to stand up, but in one way or the other, he couldn't just do it. He could take Ross, but it wasn't just the time. He had felt something happen, something dark, somewhere else. Jeff's eyes darted across the room, he knew that something suspicious was going on, but he didn't know where they came from. His imaginations, or his being annoyed by his new found friend.

"GODDAMN! Sit your ass down, or go to sleep or something�"

"I knew it," Ross finally said, knowing that he has won this little debate.

"Just shut up."

The bunk was so hard, and the covers didn't even feel that they were there. It was as if they were situating their tired bodies on hard concrete wood, or something. Other than that, the place stank. The cell was as smelly as it was dark. Ross finally set his back on the bunk and tried to get to sleep. He closed his eyes, and gently drifted off to sleep. Jeff didn't even dare to look at him. He had things in mind. What would he do? The nightmares won't stop � the nightmares that his friends were responsible for, and all of it went to him. He couldn't do anything. He wasn't even experienced in the arts of Black Magic, and worst, he was trapped in this annoying cell with a guy he doesn't even know who's obviously some crazy kid. Thoughts rushed themselves into his mind, one by one, one after the other. He didn't know what to think first, and finally he decided to lie down.

Jeff could feel his back bones cry in agony as they slowly touched those torture devices. He couldn't feel anything except for those uncomfortable furniture, if it was fit to call those that, behind his back, and that was a good thing. It kept his mind occupied for the moment, forgetting about that bastard, Htore. His anger was directed to some other people, as he slowly drifted off towards sleep.

"Fucking cops�"

Ross was still half-awake, and he heard what Jeff had said. But he heard wrong.

"So now, you're a fag? You like fucking cops? Fine. But try not to touch me in your sleep."

"Go back to sleep, asshole�"

"Uhuh."

The prison cell was silent for now. And so was the rest of the whole goddamn world. They had lost track of the time, and felt better wasting it sleeping. Somewhere, Htore could be having fun. But they had a lot to know. STILL had a lot to know. And if they already knew it, perhaps they wouldn't even dare to close their eyes.

But off they were to sleep.

And dreams.

*plipp-plop*

"GODDAMN! Can't that cursed sink stop plopping?!"

And maybe perhaps, a little nightmare.

*plop*

-------------------------

"Ohhhhh�.baby, yeah�.. oaaahhhh�YEAH!"

Colleen wrapped her legs around David's waist. She felt David's manhood enter her, leave her, enter her again; it was fast and exciting. She tried to not gasp for air for several seconds, as she felt her orgasm coming. And she had managed to delay it. David was the least closer to his climax. She had to keep up with him. Sweat from various places in both their bodies were bathing them. Colleen's free hand reached for the fresh glass of wine on the table next to the counter, where they were fucking. She poured its remaining contents over David's back, shielding both their sweat's smell, and it gently spilled downwards as David's up-down motion intensified.

The wine traveled down towards David's neck and without further hesitation, she licked the wine, tasting his sweet sweat as well. She couldn't identify which was better, the wine or the sweat. Her tongue traveled from his neck towards David's mouth. David eagerly received her tongue, trying hard to maintain the intense motion, and keeping up the adrenaline. Both their tongues fought for a while, until they mingled inside each other's mouth. Colleen released her mouth from David's and got the melting chocolate beside herm which was left uneaten earlier. Again, with her free hand, she wiped the sweet, exotic chocolate over her breasts. David answered the call by sucking the chocolate from her breast, making Colleen rouse even more. She tossed the chocolate in her mouth, and as she felt her nipples were getting hard, she grabbed David's hair and gestured for him to keep their mouths together. David licked the melted chocolate from her lips, and again sealed both their mouths. David had tasted the chocolate inside her mouth, and his tongue fought hard with hers, trying to get the chocolate to get into his mouth.

But both their movements were further intensified as David could feel himself coming.

"Daviiid�. Ohhhhhh, fuck me�. Oooooaaahhhh�"

"Yeah�.uhhhh.."

Colleen felt that she was also nearing her orgasm. She tried to hold it still, so that they could have it together. And there it was.

"Ohhhh�" David moaned in exasperation.

Colleen had collapsed because of the sweetest orgasm she had ever had.

"Oh, God� Oh� David�"

"Shhhh�"

"That was great�"

"Yeah, we should do it again sometime�"

David slowly removed himself from Colleen, but the sweet desire was still there. But he was getting sleepy. He was tired. Beyond tired. And he dragged himself out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"I'm going to bed," he said.

"I'll just rest here�"

"Alright. That was great, Colleen�"

David hadn't even bother to put on his boxers, but he decidedly went towards the bedroom. It was so hot.

"Sweet dreams, David�" she said.

And she closed her eyes.

-------------------------

Sheriff Weiss looked at the mountainous files and folders stacked on his desk. In it were the regular, boring cases which eventually ended up in the trash � robbery, stealing, robbery, robbery, stealing. It was all the same boring old shit. He was getting fed up with the job of being a policeman on duty�in his stupid, smelly, dusty old desk. The effects of old age were finally paying off, he was stuck here in the desk with nothing to do but peruse through the different cases. Sometimes he had wished he just retired. But what was there to do at home? Bore to death? When he was a lot younger, he would go out to field work � catching those crazy ass criminals on the street, and the next day was as exciting as its predecessor. Everyday, he would risk his neck for the people who didn't even knew he existed. He opened the files one by one, trying not to breathe because of the dust that accumulated perhaps for ages on his desk. Nobody would even bother to clean in up. Not even him.

The folder was dated the 15th of April, 2001. Multiple Homicide. It could have been a lot more easier if those files were placed on a computer, but the government was far too busy to know that this county even existed.

"Multiple homicide, now that's a new one�"

He slowly opened the folder, as if it was some sort of antique, too brittle for touch. It was the first homicidal case in fifteen years, since he was a cop.

"Jeffrey Lowell, 21 years old, found with the butchered remains of two other people in a local cemetery� uhhhh�. Interesting�"

He had read a passage that mentions a Black Book with occult symbols on it. He had been a long time fan of the occult and the mystic arts. He never knew that someone else in this state was interested in the topic. There were no pictures in the files though, as the government had failed to supply even cameras and films.

"Jones, come here for a moment�"

"Sir?"

"Get me the evidence for the murder in the cemetery file�"

"Yes, sir."

With that, Jones disappeared into the evidence room at the end of the hall. Sheriff Weiss just kept reading the passage over and over again.

"Black Book�. Now just where have I read that before�"

"Sir!"

"Huh?!"

"The evidence sir, uhhh�. There's this book with weird symbols on it, and nothing else was found in the crime scene, sir�"

"Give it to me," he said, reaching for the book.

The Black Book indeed was as heavy as it looked. It's covers were like made from the bark of a black oak tree, and it looked really old. Where could the kid have gotten this book. As he felt the book in his hands, he had felt a strange sensation. It was a bad feeling. He felt the carved symbols on the cover, but his fingers weren't in contact with it. His eyes were closed, but they seemed that they were moving inside. Jones was starting to get curious.

"Sir, uhh, what are you doing?"

"Huh?!" Sheriff Weiss was interrupted from his self-imposed trance. He instantly removed his hand from the book and looked like he was hiding something. "Nothing, Jones, and that will be all," he said, dismissing the curious deputy.

"Whatever you say, sir. I'll just have a smoke outside," he said, although he wasn't quite sure whether to leave the sheriff alone, and he thinks that the sheriff was hiding something, although he really wasn't quite sure of what it was. But anyway, he realized that further hesitation would make the sheriff noxious, so he decided to leave him alone.

Sheriff Weiss continued with his *feeling* the book. It was a sensation that he had felt a long time before. Indeed, he knew that it was a bad sensation, but he could try to trace his memories for it. The Black Book was a picture in his mind, long forgotten. Perhaps he had seen it in his dreams when he was young, but it was long forgotten. It was a long time ago. He had been interested in the occult then, and made practices with it. He wouldn't dare to study Black Magic, and his interests were held in purely the supernatural. He would have nothing to do with the dark side, he knew. But the book itself could raise his imagination. He had started feeling things � dark things. Things that he never thought he'd felt.

The department also had its share with the unnatural. More than twenty years ago, when Sheriff Weiss was still with field duty, there were also murders. Much like this one. At that time, hunting down criminals were hard, as they had not yet have those new technologies in crime solving. It was very much the same as with the case of Jeffrey Lowell. There was this person, the town never paid enough attention to him and he was considered as a nut. A crazy fuck, just like Jeff. He was like some sort of a magician, only his magic went too far. Far enough to drive his ass crazy. And one morning, just like when they found Jeff, he was found in a crypt, with bloody meat surrounding him. The victims were never identified. The butcher, the one that they found in the crypt, was condemned to death. But he was sent to the higher court, the state court. Rumors had spread about him, that he wasn't dead, but had escaped. But Sheriff Weiss would have nothing to do with that. But ever since the mysterious disappearance of the crazy man, he had been interested in the occult. He had indulged himself in studying the mystic arts. Only he had long neglected it, finding that the modern era now has dissolved magic once and for all. But all just proved him wrong as the crime repeated itself. History had repeated itself, only with new persons involved. He had doubts in his mind, but he thought that the man long forgotten was also a material for this recent crime. His name was forgotten by the town that sentenced him to death, but it was still fresh in the Sheriff's mind� and on his chest. That bastard had left a scar on his chest. He would know him even if he'd been cut to several pieces, like what he did to the Sheriff's five-year-old son. The memories were hard to ignore, but Sheriff Weiss had long buried it in his mind. But the memories somehow came back to haunt him, through Jeffrey Lowell. But that wasn't his name.

It was Peter Mage.

He had used several aliases, depending on who's spirit it is that possessed him.

People had thought of this freak as some insane motherfucker. Others protested that he should be sent to the asylum, not sentenced to death. But the sheriff knew better. He could only hope that the executioners did their job.

Sheriff Weiss was still trapped in his memories when Jones appeared from the hall.

"Sir, there's another one�" he said.

"What?!"

"Another murder, sir."

"And the suspect?"

"A girl. White girl, twenty years old, and she was found in her apartment with her supposedly *boyfriend* who was found scattered all over the floor." Jones twisted his head around, and introduced the terrified girl to the Sheriff, being escorted by two hard-looking cops, Gerard and Smith. "What the hell is happening with our town, Sheriff?"

"I have definitely no idea, Smith," he said, looking closer at the girl. "Sit down, here�"

"Now, tell me, what happened?"

The girl was full with sobs and moans. Her eyes were already red and misty, yet she won't stop crying. The thug-looking guards beside her tried their best to comfort her, but only achieving otherwise. She won't stop crying.

"What's your name?"

"Goddamn you!" She screamed directly in front of the sheriff's face, almost spitting the words out.

"Now hold on there, miss, we're trying to help you�"

HELP?! HELP?!! FUCK YOU ALL!!"She screamed as she slammed the sheriff's desk and sent the stacks of papers flying in all directions. The girl was hysterical.

"Gerard�" the sheriff eyed the cold-looking deputy and signaled him to take the girl into the cell.

"Yes, sir," he said. He motioned Smith to take the girl. Smith failed to do it cautiously, and setting the girl back to hysterics again.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU CRAZY FUCKS??!!! Let GO of MEEE!!"

Gerard could take no more of the girl's insane behavior. He slapped her cheeks with his heavy hands and sent the girl's cheeks facing the opposite direction. The girl recoiled the force and turned around to face Gerard with blood-dripped lips. Her eyes were cold and angry, that Gerard could feel her hate go through him through those eyes. It sent shivers down his spine, which occurred rarely, if not never. But his slap did silence the girl.

The two guards escorted her towards the hall to her cell. Her head was faced down, looking exhausted.

Sheriff Weiss just stared at his dumbfounded deputy, looking as though he was asking Jones for an answer. Without even the sheriff lifting a finger, Jones broke the silence.

"Name's Colleen Andrews, sir. Tshey found her in her apartment with�. You know�"

"Butchered remains of someone."

"Exactly, sir." Jones took a paper cup from the nearby table, and poured some water in it from the water dispenser. He drank the water in one gulp and continued. Sheriff Weiss only stared at him. "What is happening in our town, sir?"

"Beats me, Jones. But whatever it is, it's exciting." Sheriff Weiss looked over the mess that the stack of papers and folders were. He picked one folder up from beneath his chair, and quit.

"I have to get to lunch, Jones� take over for me, will you?"

Jones put the paper cup on the table, and sighed. Taking over for the Sheriff meant to clean up the mess.

"Yes, sir," he finally said.

Jones bent over and picked up the stacks of paper scattered all over the floor, starting from the one close to his feet.

Sheriff Weiss was already in his feet when Jones started picking up the papers. Jones went over to the Sheriff's desk to arrange the pieces of papers which he had picked up. The desk was clean, considering that everything in the room was messy and disorderly. And he had failed to notice that something on the desk was missing.

--------------

Sheriff Weiss walked past the door, towards the street outside. It was peaceful. Yeah right. At least nobody was around, except for those dried autumn leaves being blown constantly by the humid wind. The muscles in his arms were starting to cramp. He held the heavy book tightly between his sweaty fingers and grinned.

Chapter 5: Old Men Know Some Things

Jeff's mind was beginning to wander. It was that irritating phase when you think you're still asleep and still dreaming, although you're really awake already. It was just one of those moments that Jeff would like to get out of, and certainly he did.

He looked over at his new-found friend, still caught up with his dreams, or whatever it is he was trapped in.

His head was still blank, all memories were shielded from him like he was in a coma or something. For all he knew, it was better left that way� and memories � all he had were troublesome. He had wished for it to stay this way�vague and unrecognizable. But the memories had already become vivid. No. Not memories. Nightmares. Yes. He'd dreamt something, although he couldn't quite remember the actual details. All he felt was pain, deep inside.

And he realized that it was painful. IS painful. The bunk which they were forced to sleep in was the reason. Although there were other vague reasons.

*klunk*

"�what�"

"Hey, punk! Get off your ass� your brother's here to see you," Gerard yelled as he unlocked and unfastened the bolts of the cell.

"�brother?"

---

The beads on the small door, which served as the door itself, and as a warning for the proprietor made a tinkling sound. Someone was coming in. Someone was finally going to buy something. Or at least he thought.

Old Man Zuck, reacted to the commotion. He had a normal name once, but it was long forgotten. Nobody had ever called him his name for such a long time, and he was starting to forget how his name sounded like. Or he could have already forgotten his name.

He darted his old eyes towards every cranny in the dark, dusty store of his. But there was nothing, except for the humid wind, which kept bothering him every now and then. There wasn't much to do now, and he regretted himself for keeping this old store of his open. Nobody was buying things anymore from him, nobody was interested in this kind of stuff anymore. People were stuck with the all-alluring internet, and all those other hi-tech stuff, and people have no time for the old, enjoyable stuff like what he's selling.

Or what he had been selling anyway.

He looked at the dusty grandfather clock behind him, and its rusty hands said that it was 2:00 in the afternoon. The boring time. The past twenty years have been the greatest bore in his life. Old Man Zuck would just stay in his store, which also served a multi-purpose as his apartment. He had lose his house, well, much like an old weary shack that he had once in a fire, which he himself was responsible for. He was alone by himself, alone and fucking bored for a very long time, and a lot more long before that. He would get lucky if some crazy eleven-year-old kid would come and steal stuff from his store, at least that would make him excited. Or pissed, anyway.

He was usually asleep during this time, but he wasn't now. Probably for some weird reason. Sometimes he'd just wished that he was already dead. But he'd just better be off to sleep for now.

He patted his small couch settled behind the counter, and slowly lied down.

"Damned kids, always playing around�" he sighed.

Slowly, cautiously, he closed his eyes, as if still waiting for something. And he was right� there was something.

Footsteps.

Finally, the old man stood up, taking up even more pressure than releasing. He felt his old worn backbones creak.

"Who's there?"

Nothing.

*thud*

"I said who's there?"

And there it was. Out of the dark and gloomy atmosphere of his old store was a shadow. The room was filled with them. But there was this sudden peculiarity that came with that one. It was hard to spot at first, due to the dark situation of the room. But he could quite see it clearly now. Perhaps it was a cat. No� it couldn't be. The shadow was far too huge to be that of a cat's. A dog? Hell no. Dogs make sounds as they pant. It was more like a man. Not a boy, a kid�it was a shadow of a grown man.

Old Man Zuck squinted his eyes to have a better look of his intruder. He was nervous. Perhaps for the first time in twenty years, he was frightened. He wasn't actually scared, though, he was more excited than scared. It was during these kinds of times when he'd wished he hadn't pawned that trusty old shotgun of his. But he had other defenses. Strong, unusual armaments. His magic. Real magic. Magic that actually worked and wasn't a trick of any sort like those shows in carnivals. His was actual, live magic. Telekinesis if you would put it. But he'd prefer it in his own terms � sorcery.

People who knew him would say that he's insane. Mad even. And most probably, that could have been the reason for his isolation. Perhaps he thought that it was better this way. But most of the time, he wished otherwise.

The dark figure seemed to just stand there. Motionless. He was standing in front of a huge, dusty bookcase, which shielded him from the old man's field of vision. The bookcase was tall, reaching itself almost up towards the ceiling. The left side of the store was filled with them, and the man, or whatever it was in between two of them. Shadows was all that Old Man Zuck could see, but he lived in the shadows. He knew those shadows.

The same darkness covered the man's face.

Come out from the shadows.

The man's face lifted. It was as if the man had noticed, Old Man Zuck's thoughts. But it could be Old Man himself who enticed the man with his thoughts. But it was more like both. The dark, endless shadows that covered the man's face somehow *dissolved* themselves within his dark features. He smiled, or at least it appeared to be that way.

Didn't think you'd ever see me again, did you?

Old Man Zuck's face bore a mixture of both shock and mirth as he finally realized who the mysterious intruder was.

"Strange!"

---

"�brother�" Jeff kept repeating the words over and over. A thousand thoughts crammed themselves into his frail head all at once. Brother. "�brother?"

"That's right� you're brother. Now move!" Gerard had problems of his own, he hasn't even eaten lunch yet. The only lunch which was served to him were murderous bastards and their strange family.

Jeff's eyes were fixed into something in front of him which weren't actually there. He was staring off towards nothing, trying to figure out the situation. A brother.

"�brother�"

Gerard managed to open the cell door, and seeing Jeff like a frozen apple made him get in the cell itself. He had regretted doing that, though. But he really wanted to eat lunch already.

"Move your ass, or I'll have to move it myself� C'MON!"

His forceful arms reached for Jeff's own, and compared to Jeff's his was much bigger. And stronger. Jeff couldn't resist the pull, so he willingly got off his feet, or else that huge deputy might yank his arms off.

"� brother?" Jeff tried to search his thoughts for the right memories. But nowhere in his head could he find the right one. He couldn't find his brother in his thoughts. And afterwards, he realized something. His brother never existed. He DIDN'T even have a brother.

"�what brother�"

"A male sibling of yours, you idiot. Now move."

Jeff had realized that it was best to keep such a story hidden, and he was eager to find out who this "brother" of his was. Whoever he was, perhaps he could take him out of this rotting prison cell. And make him leave that annoying inmate behind.

---

"Strange, it's you!" Old Man Zuck was surprised to see his old friend again. His voice was rasp, probably because it has never been used in a long time. But he did get chances to use them other than call people.

The man returned the book that he was reading back to its case and went towards the old man. The shadows returned to 'shield' his face.

"I prefer the name Mortimar Weiss, if you don't mind, Norman." Then he managed to scrape up a smile. And old smile that both of them were familiar with.

"It's been a long time, Weiss! And I'm beginning to forget that name�" Old Man Zuck said. Or rather, Norman Zuck. "So, what brings you here to my store?"

"Still up with the magic things, eh, Norm?" Sheriff Weiss said, looking at the piles of junk which were more scattered than set for selling.

"Must admit, people don't buy these things no more�now, you didn't answer the question, and you seem to be shielding your thoughts�"

Sheriff Weiss didn't answer. His reply was him staring towards the door.

*thud*

The door closed, rattling the beads as it went.

"Ah� something to do with the occult, that IS something."

"Yes, old friend. Have you heard about the news recently?"

"I haven't seen a TV in more than twenty years, Mortimar."

"Well, it's about the murders." Sheriff Weiss stared deep into Norman Zuck's eyes and looked like he was trying to say something. "Murders, Norm. Butchery. Cemetery. Unexplainable. Do those words make any sense to you?"

"Peter Mage." The old man said, with a much more serious, toned down voice, like a whisper.

"I don't know. But I think that bastard's got something to do with it. Remember those rumors about him? That he's --"

"Escaped?"

There was a long pause. The both of them exchanged glances. They seemed to be communicating with each other with their eyes and thoughts.

"No, my friend," Norman finally broke the silence. "I think it's just because of your little boy that your rage is held towards Mage and that you won't let him go."

"Joey," Sheriff Weiss looked down. Those dreadful memories came back to him, to haunt him. For the moment, the tension of the murders disappeared. They were replaced by far more personal matters -- his son. "That bastard. I should have killed him myself."

"Peter Mage is dead, Mortimar. He has already paid for your son's and for many other innocent people's death. Your hating him will not bring your son back."

"No, it won't. But I know something else that will�"

Norman Zuck immediately knew what he was talking about. The forbidden arts. Black Magic.

"You know I won't help you with that� Is that why you came here? Are you asking me to resurrect your son?" The old man's eyes were cold.

"No."

"Then why have you come here? Certainly it isn't just for old time's sake."

"There are three cases of the same murders, Norman. Not one of the suspects would confess. I KNOW that they were not responsible for it. I know it for one good reason�" Sheriff Weiss exhaled and placed a thick book on the counter, making everything else on that table rattle under the heavy weight of the old forsaken book.

"The Black Book!" Norman's eyes were literally bulging out of their sockets. He was actually drooling over the sight. His expressions were a mix of both fear and awe.

"The very book that caused Mage's insanity. It was together with the first case, obviously, it spawned the later murders. I haven't actually read it yet--"

"AND YOU SHOULDN'T!" The old man cut him off with the same cold, serious glare.

"Why?"

"It's the Black Book! As it came from your own lips, it caused Mage's insanity! You should never even open it!"

"Look, I know my share of sorcery, Zuck, and I know that reading a mere passage wouldn't hurt�"

"You haven't changed a bit, Weiss."

"I have to find out which spirit was invoked! It's the only way."

"You still have a lot to learn about this field, Sheriff."

---

The cell, if you would put it, where Colleen was held was far too better than that of Jeff and Ross'. She had a bed, not those torture devices in which the both spent the night in. Colleen was a girl, and her situation was different, according to the male deputies.

Colleen's head was still filled with the terror of the horrible scene in her own bedroom, where they've found David� scattered all over the floor, his bloody entrails mangled around the floor. His face was unrecognizable, if it was still fit to call it a face, for it almost looked like a mask bathed in crimson. Only the night before, they had become intimate. The memories were all hard to forget, flashes of it came back and forth, over and over in her mind. Sometimes she had to cover her ears, press her hands against her temple to somehow shield the pain. But she just couldn't.

She couldn't take anymore. She again burst into tears.

"David�" she called towards the vast emptiness which surrounded her dark confinements, still hoping that her beloved could still hear her.

But there was no answer, except for her own voice reverberating back and forth across the dark halls.

---

"�brother�"

"Would you just shut up?" Gerard was very irritated.

Jeff slowly fixed his eyes towards the dark figure standing before the window across the room. The dazed afternoon sunlight made it impossible for him to see who it was.

Jeff squinted his eyes towards the tall figure. Afterwards, he looked over towards Gerard by his side, with a confused gaze. Gerard barely noticed him, or perhaps he just wanted to ignore him. Jeff was restless. Brother or no brother, whoever it was, it was worth saying it.

"I have NO brother�listen�" he was somehow *cut-off* from his own words. He glanced over at Gerard, but it was no use.

"He's right� I lied. I'm from the FBI, specializing in unsolved crimes� here's my ID," the man handed Smith his identification. Smith looked at it for a while. His eyes tried to examine it, but he's never seen an agent before, likewise for the ID. All he could do now was believe. If only the sheriff was here, he thought.

"NO--" Jeff was somehow withheld from speaking. He wanted to, but it was *hard*. It was like someone was choking him. But he could breathe just fine.

"Do you wish to be alone with the suspect?" Smith asked, trying to sound as professional as possible.

"That will be fine, gentlemen. Thank you."

The glaring sunlight slowly settled down as the two deputies removed themselves out of the room. Slowly, Jeff could make out the figure of a man. Jeff rubbed his eyes as if he wasn't believing in what it was that he was seeing. He gulped a hard one. Either he was completely nuts, or it was only him who could see a rotting FBI agent. His clothes were tattered and dark, and his face was, well it was not normal. The blacks of his eyes covered his sockets, and it was almost as if he had no eyes. Seeing through those was like looking in a deep abyss, never expecting what might suddenly come out from its depths.

Jeff wanted to scream, but only he couldn't. He could not even talk for chrissakes. All he could do now was to watch in horror. Jeff was all alone with that creature. The creature's eyes stared emptily right through him, and Jeff felt almost as though he was probing his mind for the right thoughts, whichever they may be. Jeff felt really vulnerable. With the slightest nudge, he could cry.

Without even his rational mind to tell him, he had a pretty good clue of who it was. But he knew that he wasn't dead yet. If that monster wanted him dead, he could have butchered him by now.

And finally the man made a sound. The sound emanating from his mouth were unholy. To describe it is like attempting to describe hell itself. It was like a low-pitched hiss, accompanied by various other sounds. The vibration made Jeff want to piss in his pants.

Suddenly, a huge dark cloak appeared out of nowhere. The room became uneasily dark.

Jeff's reply was only a wide-open mouth and a curious mind, as the man's cloak enshrouded him. Then the lights went out.

---

"�uhhnn�"

Ross woke up. His mind was still blank. But he could tell fine of where he was. It was the same dark, smelly, filthy prison cell. He wasn't dreaming all these, he finally realized. He still felt the hard bunk on his back.

"�what time is it, Jeff?" he asked, still not realizing that he was all alone in his cell. "Jeff? Dude�"

Quickly, as if fire had broke out, he spun around and got up from the bed. It was then that he noticed that Jeff was gone. He was all alone in that cell. He could bore to death.

But there was a sound. He stood up and scratched his head and walked towards the iron railings.

The sound was frail, and at the same time, it was haunting. Echoes reverberated across the hallways and inside his ear. Ross wanted them to just go away.

He was starting to feel that this old prison is haunted. He felt shivers run down his back. Ross' eyes darted all across the outside of the cell, trying to look for a rational reason for that of which he had heard. But the cells in the hall were as empty as it was dark. There was no other sign of life. He grabbed the iron door, and to his surprise, it bolted free.

His nerves started twitching. Decisions. He looked for other alternatives of what it is he was about to do. But there were none. He was going to do it. Well, there wasn't much to do inside the cell anyway. He realized that he was going to be a fugitive, but hell, who cares?

*creaaannkk*

The rusty old iron made a strong, audible rusty creak as it swung open. Ross had no idea of what time it was, but he made a good bet that it was night. Perhaps later than that. It was so dark in the halls, that to him, who hasn't seen the daylight for some time, it was all the same. Night or day, he didn't care. He was getting out of that shit hole for good.

But there it was again. Ross was almost halfway through the hall when the disturbing, haunting moan caught him again. The "voice" was so close, that he could feel it behind him, but at the same time, it wasn't. He tried to look for the source, and he darted his eyes across the dark confinements. Doing this made him want to run and scream, and he felt his palms sweat uncontrollably.

Slowly, Ross sneaked out of the prison cell. Realizing that the sound was only a result of being traumatized, he made up his mind to leave. But he wasn't right. The sound was near.

Ross twisted his head towards the left and saw someone set in the dark "insides" of the cell. It was a girl. She was crying. Why was she in here? Wasn't these cells only for men? The hell with it. Ross tried to hide himself, but it was too late. The girl already had spotted him. Her entire body was enshrouded in darkness, and it made Ross felt that he was completely naked. He quivered.

"Ross� is that you�" came a familiar voice.

Ross squinted his eyes towards the haunting darkness in which the girl was at. The girl, realizing that Ross couldn't see her, came out of the shadows, and greeted Ross with tear-drenched cheeks. She was familiar to him. Ross raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"BITCH�?"

---

Sheriff Weiss was in his patrol car, heading home. This was the first time in twenty years since he'd been this excited. He'd brought home excitement. But there's more to that. He also brought with him anxiety. Fear. Sorrow. The occurrences earlier had brought back memories. The worn sheriff stared directly on the road ahead of him. He maintained his speed, and drove away the memories.

It was 7:30 in the evening, and it was time for supper. Sheriff Weiss could smell the wonderful aroma of the fried chicken which his wife was preparing for him. Elizabeth's fried chicken weren't as good as that from KFC's, but they were delicious. Finger-lickin'-good, they might say. It was his favorite. And it was also his son's.

Elizabeth placed the plate full of chicken wings and drumsticks on the table, as it made the sheriff's mouth water. But still, he had that look of sadness in his face.

"This was Joey's favorite�" he said as he slowly closed his misty eyes. He had held back the tears, and he was accustomed in doing so, as he had done it for several years now. Elizabeth remained silent. She was strong, sometimes even more stronger than her husband.

"He should have been twenty-five now� or married," he said, while trying to shield his sorrow with a fake glee. Elizabeth just stared at him as if she knows something.

"Jones called, said you were gone for the whole afternoon, while they were busy looking for a fugitive," Elizabeth said coldly, breaking the pointless sentiments.

"WHAT?!" The chicken morsel inside his mouth stayed in there motionless for several seconds, as finally Sheriff Weiss could breath, and confirmed what his wife had just said.

"A fugitive?!"

"YES, Mort. And where have you been all that time?"

Sheriff Weiss stood up from his chair, and he felt the tensions which were long gone come back to him.

"I'm going to the station�" he said. He felt his wife's stare still at him. Realizing that he's beaten, he bent forward and kissed her. "I might not come home for the night, so don't wait up for me� and LOCK the doors and windows!"

Elizabeth sat in her chair and sighed. She looked over at her husband through the window, and he was already out the door. She looked as he slowly disappeared to the garage. Elizabeth couldn't decide on whether she was to be happy for him, or to be scared for him.

*THUD*

The sound came from the back door. Elizabeth could not know what to do. She was frozen cold. But she felt still a little safe, because she still hadn't heard the car's engine roar. Her husband could still be here. But there was another possibility. He could have been killed already. She felt her thoughts run wild. She could hear her heartbeats from her ears.

And suddenly, she felt someone approaching her back. The unknown assailant pressed his cold fingers on her shoulder.

"AAHHH!"

"DAMMIT Beth!"

Elizabeth recognized the voice immediately. It was her husband's.

"What--"

"The chicken! I haven't even started eating them yet�"

"Don't you ever scare me like that, Mortimar!" she said as she placed her hand over her heart, feeling its beats.

Sheriff Weiss leaned down and kissed his wife on the cheeks. He took the entire plate of fried chickens and went through the back door.

"Bye honey," he said.

---

"BITCH� Colleen?" Ross couldn't believe his eyes. His sister, well, his half-sister anyway was actually just in town. Colleen was his father's *responsibility*, and being the bitch that she was, like her mother, his father sent her away to college. But again, being the awful bitch that she was, she somehow manage to sneak out of college education, and somehow, one way or the other, ended up in prison, as he was too, for some strange reason.

"Missed you too, brother�"

"DON'T call me that!" he said, triggering old memories. "How'd you end up here? Dad had sent you away to college, hasn't he?"

Colleen was silent. Somehow, those awful memories came back to haunt her.

David� she thought. The name was repeated in her head over and over again, like a broken record, but she didn't mind, or care anyway. She knew that saying it would not bring him back, but there was nothing more that she could do. She was now detained in prison, and she was as helpless as nothing. She even dared to ward away the nightmares she had, just after seeing the meat that was David, but it was no use. If only the cops knew it, if only SOMEONE else knew it�

"Answer me, bitch�"

"Would you stop calling me that, you fucking bastard!"

"Who's the bastard, huh bitch?!"

"SHUT UP!"

"You do realize by now what you did to my family� MY GODDAMN FAMILY! Mom couldn't take it, and you know what she did? She wrings her neck up the fuckin ceiling fan. If it weren't for you showing up claiming you're dad's forsaken daughter, none of this would ever happened. And DAD?! That bastard doesn't even know I exist. Clear enough for you bitch?"

"You're despicable�" was all that Colleen could say, as those uncontrollable tear glands again worked themselves. Crying wouldn't help her, hell, it don't do nothing but waste precious energy.

The both of them stopped talking. Again there was that awful silence that seemed to eat away every bit of humanity that both of them had left. Ross stared deeply into Colleen's eyes, and likewise did she. Both their eyes all seemed to burn in anger and hatred, but both of them seem to hide something. It wasn't the past which bothers them, it was THIS whole thing.

Finally, Ross had summoned up the nerves to ask the question again.

"Why are you here?"

"Murder� does that shock you?" said Colleen, and she tried to laugh at the irony. She tried to shield her ever-serious head with laughter.

"Why'd you do it?"

Colleen looked deeply into her brother's eyes, and her eyes said it all.

"�you didn't do it�"

-stare-

"Then why did you end up here?" said Ross, as he somehow felt concern, for some strange reason, for this sister of his.

"I don't know, Okay? I haven't had the strangest clue, goddammit!"

"You know what, that's exactly what had happened to me," said Ross.

-stare-

"Would you stop looking at me like that?!"

"OK. So am I supposed to believe you?"

"�and I'm supposed to believe you?"

Colleen : -stare-

Ross : -stare-

*creannnkk- THUMP*

"Shit, what was that?" whispered Ross, while holding the bars of Colleen's prison cell, as if it could save his life.

"You better hide, Ross�"

Without the slightest twitch, but rather, more of an instinct, Ross headed back to his cell. Where was Jeff? Where could have those cops had taken him?

And then there were whispers. Hushes which were mixed with some sort of a sinister snicker. Then the shadows started appearing. Ross headed for his bunk, and pulled himself towards it. He rested his entire body in it, pulling back the covers as quickly as he can, and pretended to be asleep. Then the whispers slowly moved closer� became more audible. Ross opened his one eye, and tried to peek out to the dark hall, wanting to know what the hell was happening.

"Make sure that everyone's asleep�" said a voice.

"What good could they make, their IN the cells, they couldn't do nothing�" said the other voice.

Inside the covers of his bunk, Ross could hear his heart beating, pumping violently in his ears. His palms were starting to sweat.

The shadows became smaller and smaller, like some infernal giant slowly decreasing in size. The figures had approached the cell of Ross. Ross couldn't see much, as he had only one eye open and the dark halls shielding his view. He further squinted his eyes, and had managed to get a view of the people.

It were them. Those two grunts which had escorted him in this pad earlier. And they seemed to be carrying a heavy load. No, they were more like pulling it. The bigger, more meaner looking cop peeked inside Ross' cell, making sure that he's asleep. Afterwards he looked over to his partner and signaled that it was alright. Then the both of them, together with the thing which they were carrying moved onwards towards the darker regions of the prison hall.

Ross, realizing that they were already past his field of vision quickly stood up and peeked out the cell from inside. He had noticed that the floor was wet. Something which was inside that bag could have been the reason. Something� no. It was blood. It was hard to notice at first, but the stench of fresh blood entered Ross' nose like an invading plague. He finally remembered his missing buddy.

"Jeff�"

*creaaannnk-THUD*

The deputies had opened another cell, and from the looks of it, they might have stashed the body inside. Were these cops crazy?

Then they laughed. The deputies laughed like mad. He was right, they were crazy.

Ross quickly got back to his bunk, and again pretended that he was asleep. But this time, he was prepared. He wouldn't be like his dead friend Jeff. He would fight back. But with what? Without any weapons, he was fried. All he could do now was pray. Pray? The hell with prayers. Didn't even help his mother get through life. Hell, all he could do now was hope. Yeah, that's right. Somehow, those thoughts of his, if he wished hard enough, concentrate even, would help him. Yeah, that's right. Wish. Visualize.

The footsteps were getting closer to his cell. Ross had his eyes tightly closed, and his hands horribly clenched like he was about to strike. Inside his mind, there were other things going on.

*creaaaaankk-THUD*

Finally�

Ross sighed in relief. He quickly got to his feet and made his way towards his prison door.

"Aaaw, fuck!"

The bars were fastened shut, somehow. Perhaps by that motherfuckin cop. Ross relieved the pressured from his feet and suddenly found himself sitting on the floor - hopeless.

"Those cops are crazy�"

"�uhuh�" said Ross. "�WHAT THE�?"

Colleen was directly in front of him.

"How'd you get in here?" he said, dazzled, confused.

"Let's get out of here�"

Without further hesitation, and without whining his way through, he decided to get up and follow his sister. At times like these, thinking itself was irrational.

"FUCK YEAH!"

---

Sheriff Weiss entered the office. His left hand was still clinging to a chicken drumstick, half eaten. He didn't at all looked shock or excited in anyway, but rather, he looked full. Without noticing Gerard and Smith, he headed for the water dispenser and took a cup from the side. The two deputies looked at him in the oddest way.

If Weiss wasn't this *excited*, then he'd already noticed the 'peculiar' atmosphere of the room. Everyone was silent, well, the two of them anyway. Gerard stared at his partner with a blank, meaningless stare, and Smith's case was the same. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong.

Weiss gulped down his water and it made an audible glub as it carried the digested morsels of chicken.

"What happened?" Sheriff Weiss said, without even looking at anyone, but instead, filling his mouth with the drumstick.

But nobody answered. It was as if nobody was even there. Weiss finally got the urge to take a look at his two deputies.

The both of their faces looked very strange. Gerard noticed the sheriff's eyes on them. He stared back at the backing officer.

"Excuse me, sheriff...?" said Gerard.

"I said, what happened here... and why are you looking like shit?" he said, while throwing the skinned chicken drumstick to the nearby wastebasket.

"Oh... everything's quite alright here, sheriff..." Smith said with a malicious grin.

The both of these guys are acting a little strange, he thought. Sheriff Weiss felt that it was best to keep things away from Gerard and Smith's ears if they'd didn't already know. He was going to ask about Jones, but a different question replaced it.

"How're the cells?"

"Perfectly okay, sheriff..." said Gerard with that annoying, disturbing stare.

There's definitely no more need of further information that something strange was going on here. Jones called him at home some time ago, or at least that's what his wife had said... but where was Jones anyway?

"Now, what brings you here, Sheriff?" said Smith, with a strange, despicable grin.

"Just checking," Sheriff lied. "You wouldn't mind if I'd take a look in the cells, would you?"

A stupid question. Sheriff Weiss had instantly regretted that he asked that. He was acting more suspicious than the two. But Smith's reply was a lot stranger.

"No, sheriff, not at all�" he said.

The sheriff's expression suddenly changed.

"Huh - right�" said Sheriff. Somehow, he had hoped that the reply would be negative.

to be continued...

Copyright 2001 by Dominic Sanchez.

What do you think about the story? Did you like it? Tell me and others about it in the Guestbook.

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The Sorcerers is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual places, events, and people are purely coincidental. This work of fiction is copyrighted. That means it entirely belongs to MIEDO. If you wish to copy this work, e-mail me and I'll think about it.

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