Pastor Jonathan, Jenni, Brent, and Tara enjoyed a relaxing lunch together after church. The Lawton kids were at home under Jenna’s attentive watch. Okay, Tara doubted that was the proper description of what was going on, but at least Jenna would keep Jamie and Amy from destroying the place.

Conversation had been pretty casual up through dessert, which had included a delicious piece of raspberry-chocolate chip cheesecake. I’ll be working overtime to keep this off my thighs, Tara thought. It was definitely the wrong setting to have forgotten her Nutrilite Carb Blocker.

As a fresh round of coffee was poured into their cups, Brent brought up what they all knew they were there for.

“Pastor, when we last talked you told me that individuals had been approaching you about out-of-the-ordinary feelings or perceptions that something bad might be on the horizon for our community. Has anything happened in the past two weeks that would seem to confirm that?

“Yes. More of the same. As you know we hold intercessory prayer meetings every Thursday evening. I wasn’t there for this one and neither was Jenni due to unfortunate obligations elsewhere, but I did call the prayer leader that night to ask how the evening went. He said that while they did pray for the needs of certain individuals that had requested it, the mood shifted after about a half hour. He said that many of the twenty-seven who were there just stopped praying and just stared, looking around at each other. Turns out that none of them wanted to sound foolish by bringing up the idea that they needed to stop praying for people at that moment and turn their attention to demons.”

Tara spoke up. “Okay, I think that we’re coming to understand that something’s going on, but did any of them have a clue that others had been approaching you about a seemingly-imminent spiritual battle?”

“Yes,” said the pastor. “One of those I had mentioned to you in my office, Brent, is a frequenter of that prayer group. But, according to John Nielsen, the prayer group leader, she hadn’t mentioned her conversation with me until after they had wrapped up for the evening.

“So there you have it. Yet another confirmation that something is approaching.”

Tara looked to Jenni. “Have you seen or heard or felt anything odd?”

Jenni gave an apologetic look and a shake of her head. “I’m afraid not. But I’ve stepped up my prayer. In fact, I was thinking about calling you to see if you had any insights, considering your background.”

Tara’s thoughts flashed back twenty-four years. While she had certainly been an open-eyed participant in the demonic realm, she had been so far-removed from it for so long that she doubted that she could offer anything of benefit, and she told Jenni so.

Pastor Jonathan rebuffed the idea. “Tara, just because you don’t recall much or haven’t been practicing the occult for a long time doesn’t mean that you lack value in this area. In fact, you have eyes that are probably better suited to perceive things than any of the rest of us. God has a tendency to use the errors of our pasts to provide answers in the future.

“If the things that people are sensing right now will have a community-wide impact, I won’t be surprised if something from your past will be used by God to help figure things out. Hopefully there won’t be the need, but start asking God to give you the opportunity to have your past be a blessing here in the present.”

A feeling of nervous excitement passed through Tara at that moment. “I’ll do just that, Pastor.”

Pastor Jonathan turned to Brent. “How about you? It’s been two weeks, anything interesting taking place on the streets?”

“Not a thing that I’ve been able to notice, and trust me, everyday I’ve been watching, with all of this in mind. Frankly, though, I haven’t a clue what I’m looking for. It certainly would be a lot easier if a group of black-robe-wearing Satanists were caught on camera spray painting occult symbols on tombstones. But all I’ve been seeing lately is a reduction in speeding tickets.”

“Well,” began the pastor again, “I’m certain that I did the right thing in bringing you into my confidence regarding all of this. I know that God wanted me to talk to you two weeks ago. It wasn’t just a whim. That said, let’s refocus our prayer and intuitive efforts to come up with some answers. The Holy Spirit is waking people up to some sort of danger, and it’s now our responsibility to keep vigil. If a dark time is coming, we are not going to be caught unaware.”

“Amen,” said Brent.

“Amen,” said Tara and Jenni.

“Another thing,” Pastor Jonathan continued, “As God has obviously specified that you were to be alerted to all of this, Brent and Tara, I want you to be careful. Our Enemy is cunning and he knows your pasts. He knows that God uses our pasts for his glory and will attempt to prevent that. I’ll say it again, be vigilant.”

All of a sudden Tara’s thoughts on weight management were tossed into the back seat. Funny how it had been her crises situation just ten minutes earlier.

She wished she could laugh at the irony.

1:39 P.M.

BRENDAN STOOD IN the garage that sat back from the farmhouse. The main garage door was open allowing a flood of natural light to invade the normally dark edifice. He looked at the piece of artwork that had been leaned up against the wall before him. The plaster form of the Key Stone had turned out perfect. It stood approximately nine feet high, and since it would never be sunk into the dirt like its concrete twin, it didn’t require an additional four feet of unmarked surface at its bottom. Every bit of the imagery from the actual stone pieces could be seen. In fact, the plaster cast revealed even more detail because the human eye wasn’t tricked by discolorations that were caused by centuries of abuse from dirt, mud, water, and mortar.

Yesterday they had taken the dried cement cast and erected it in the soil near MacKay Hill. It, too, looked great, and with the concrete having been reinforced internally with the rebar, it would stand proudly for many years to come. It appeared to do more to hallow the ceremonial grounds than all of the religious rites they had conducted. In fact, many of the Picti had been flocking to it as a place of meditation or ritual observance to the gods.

Since the real Picti Key Stone and the Key of Bridei could never be safely returned to Scotland, it would seem that this unknown little spit of a city in America would become their Mecca, at least for the time being. Brendan foresaw annual gatherings taking place on this property. That meant that a lot of work was going to have to be done to upgrade, and add to, the facilities.

Brendan knew that he didn’t need to focus attention on any of that for the time being. It could wait. During the coming evening, and the next, there would be general sessions with all of the Picti. He had contacted a company that rented out extreme numbers of chairs for events like weddings and outdoor concerts, and now several of the followers were hard at work, creating a sort of amphitheater facing one side of MacKay Hill.

At dusk he would begin explaining in detail their overall purposes and talk about recruitment efforts. Throughout the following day they would discuss techniques for proper indoctrination and the practice of true magick. They would finish the evening off with an anticipatory look ahead to Tuesday’s big event, the placement of the Key of Bridei into the Key Stone; something that hadn’t happened in over fifteen-hundred years.

Though determined to have the same self-restraint he’d used to delay translating any of the Latin and Pictish on the Key of Bridei, it was taking all of Brendan’s mental stamina to not place the key into the plaster replica of the Key Stone. He just knew that they would fit together perfectly.

He sighed and walked out of the garage. His excitement, along with his long-delayed gratification, would come to its zenith alongside all of the Picti who yearned to witness the event. He yearned for it to be a holy, reverent moment filled with awe.

What would Tuesday hold? What secrets would be unlocked? What beliefs would he become privy to that the ancient Picts had worked so hard to protect?

He and his people would know soon enough, and in the not-too-distant future the world would, as well.