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“It’s behind the back of the house near the walled garden. Would you like me to take you, Mrs. Wilson?”
The use of the title stopped me short. “No, I can manage.”
I hurried down the stairs and through the kitchen to the door I had used earlier. The mist had thickened, making it hard to see. I circled the house until I found a path leading to a small outbuilding. Stained glass windows depicting various biblical scenes were embedded into the sandstone bricks, and a narrow door sat ajar.
It had to be the chapel. I stuck my head in only to pull it back out quickly. The room was lit with candles, and six men in black robes wearing grotesque masks portraying devils, skeletons, and several horned animals were acting out some kind of macabre sacrificial reenactment. It reminded me of poor Mangus. I looked again, stifling a scream. The man with the skeleton mask lay on an altar as blood pooled across his bare chest. An empty chalice beside him. The hair stood up on my arms.
The men began to sing an incantation in an ancient language I did not recognize. The words were emotive and sacred, and while I did not understand them, I knew them to be secretive. Whatever they were saying, only they knew the meaning, converting them into symbols of emotions.
These words held power.
They were alive.
The room filled with a blue mist, and the sound of a far-off animal, soft at first, increased until it filled the room in an ear-screeching howl.
I covered my ears with my hands, hoping to block out the noise.
The chanting grew louder, and I could feel it deep in my soul, reverberating from the inside out.
Whatever was going on here was profane in nature.
Evil.
I turned to run, but the snap of a branch cracking to my left stopped me. “Who’s there?” I said into the fog. “Show yourself.”
A hooded figure appeared from a shroud of haze in the path. Faceless, the only distinguishing features were the horns dangling around its neck from a rope. Magnus’s horns.
This time I screamed and fled in the opposite direction toward the walled garden. A maze of sycamore trees soon sheltered me as I zigzagged through the dense foliage, scraping my arms and face on branches. Footsteps grew louder behind me, and I ducked into an alcove hiding behind the trunk of a two-hundred-year-old tree. The person passed, only to stop and circle back, retracing their steps. I closed my eyes and felt the prick of a blade against my neck as the smell of putrid flesh wafted toward me. The figure held the knife to my throat, moving me out of the protection of the trees.
“Let me go,” I begged.
A commotion could be heard as Keir and the other men ran up the path. “Let her go,” Keir yelled. He held the devil mask in his hand. “It’s not her you want.”
An evil laugh filled the air, and I felt the edge of the knife press into my flesh. The next thing I knew, a low, angry roar erupted from Keir as he held up his hand, and my assailant was flung backward so hard he slammed against the tree. The attacker pushed himself to his knees, pulling a gun from his waistband.
“Keir, watch out,” I shouted as the sound of a single shot being fired echoed through the night sky. The attacker fell backward. I looked back at the men. Mac stood there, lowering his own weapon. Keir ran over to me and put his arms around me.
“I thought he was going to shoot you,” I cried as he held me.
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
The other men stood there silent. Aidan came over to us. His face was clammy and pale, and concern creased the corners of his eyes. “Wh-what was that?” he said with a shaky voice as the skeleton mask dropped from his hands. “She could have been killed.”
Mac went over to the attacker and pulled the mask off his face. Brendan lay on the ground as blood bubbled from his mouth. “Why?” Mac yelled at the young man.
Brendan struggled to talk. “He- he wanted me to stop it,” he managed to say.
“Who?” Keir said, kneeling down beside him. “Who wanted you to stop it.”
His eyes traveled madly over the group of men as if he were searching for someone in particular. “He-he paid me.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“Get her out of here,” Keir yelled.
“No,” I cried. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“I’ll handle this,” Mac said to Keir. “You get her back.”
He put his arm around me as we slowly returned to the castle. When we got back to the room, I broke down in tears. “What the hell were you doing in that church?”
