Monica woke to the smell of burning flesh. Her arms were tied behind her back with heavy rope and her mouth had been gagged. She was groggy, and her vision was blurry. She could hear chanting close by.
Oh, Great One, rise
Your time has come again
She could see them now, a dozen or so naked women, swaying around a fire.
We raise to you this sacrifice
Monica could see Jacob now, slumped over by the fire, being held up by two men. He had a wound on his head and blood streaked down his face.
Firstborn son on a cloudless night
Monica’s eyes drifted to the fire, where she saw Zach burning, still flailing but physically unable to scream.
This isn’t real. I’m about to wake up.
Monica heard a familiar voice then, and she saw Sydney Rawlings on the far side of the fire, stark naked like the rest of the women. She chanted:
Baphomet, we give you this rite
Monica screamed against her gag, but it was useless, Jacob couldn’t hear her. She wanted to tell him The Tall Man was standing right behind him. She wanted to warn him as the shadowy figure entered Jacob’s body.
But it was too late. She watched as the strange men let go of Jacob’s arms, and let him stand on his own. Tears ran down her face as she watched the old woman drape something all over Jacob’s body. She trembled as he stood and approached her slowly.
By the firelight, she could see as Jacob got closer to her that he had a familiar pair of enormous curled horns plastered to the top of his head. She could see the bloody goat furs draped over his shoulders. She saw nothing in his eyes to convince her that Jacob was inside his own mind at all, instead she saw a cold, dead stare.
Monica suddenly became aware of the noose around her neck as he began to slowly pull her up the tree. Her eyes bulged and her legs kicked, but the Goatman barely even grunted as he pulled the rope higher.
Her oxygen was slowly depleting as the rope closed off her windpipe forever.
“Jeb, get in there and do your job!” she heard an old man say.
“Yes sir.”
She felt the knife slice across her c-section scar, opening her like a Thanksgiving turkey. She kicked and bucked as she felt the baby get ripped from her womb. She screamed, but it didn’t matter.
“It’s a girl,” the one named Jeb said.
“You should keep her,” she heard Sydney say. “To honor this family’s sacrifice in bringing back The Great One.”
“Fine,” the old man spat.
“What are you going to name her?” Sydney asked.
Monica’s eyes rolled back in her head as she heard the baby cry for the first time.
The old man looked up at the moon and wiped the bloody knife on his pants. “How about Luna?” he said. “I reckon that’ll do.”
Luna, Monica thought. How beautiful.
I’ll have to remember that when I snap out of this.