Early Friday Evening

My feet hurt from all the pacing. I padded back and forth like a caged jungle cat across the expanse of the porch, waiting for Mitchell and my Mom to return. They were gone for hours and Emily and I were both starting to worry. I looked at my friend curled up into a tight ball on the Adirondack chair at the far end of the porch. In the fading glow of the late afternoon sun, her disheveled hair and streaks of makeup had run down her face making her look like a war refuge. Pangs of guilt at seeing her so upset were eating away at my insides.

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” I said, pausing at the screen door. Emily immediately rose to her feet and walked over to me. Her eyes betrayed her fright.

“I need something to drink, but water wasn’t what I had in mind,” she said through forced laughter. I held the door open and she stepped inside. I knew that she hated being left alone and I couldn’t blame her. We were wide awake yet living a nightmare.

We hadn’t spoken much since Mom and Mitchell left for town. Both of us were wrapped up in our own thoughts, desperate to put the odd puzzle pieces together. None of this made any sense. Supernatural phenomenon was strictly for the movies, not reality. But that was the only explanation—we were experiencing something from another realm. Hopefully, some answers would be gleaned if Mom was successful in getting the nonsensical words transcribed.

I headed to the fridge and snagged a bottle of water. Emily went straight to the cabinet and grabbed a wine glass and froze in place, refusing to open the refrigerator door. Her enormous eyes pleaded with mine for help.

“Oh, sorry. Here,” I said and grabbed a bottle of Riesling. “Guess this means I’m cooking dinner as well, huh?”

“I don’t plan on eating anything. Maybe ever again. You’re on your own for food. Sorry,” Emily said, snatching the cold bottle from me and filling the glass to the rim. “I plan on just drowning my stress in booze. It always worked when my heart was broken, so I’m hoping it works just for our current situation.

“Emily, you need to eat. Let me fix you a sandwich,” I said, reaching past her to retrieve the bread. “If you drink as heavily as I suspect you plan to then you are going to have an intimate relationship with the toilet all night if you don’t put something in your stomach first.”

“Hey, at least if I’m puking, I won’t be thinking about anything else. Wish I still had a bit of smoke left. Now I’m the one that needs to relax.” She took a huge gulp of wine. “I also understand why our priest keeps wine stashed everywhere. You need to be on the sauce when dealing with evil spirits.”

Had Emily made that sort of comment any other time, I would have railed on her about the absolute absurdity of not only the priesthood, but also the consideration of evil spirits. But, after the events of the past few days, I held my tongue.

“Come on, I don’t feel like hanging out in the kitchen. Gives me the creeps.” Emily brushed past me into the living room. It looked like I wouldn’t be fixing her something to eat after all.

“Let me grab our sweaters. It’s starting to get chilly outside,” I yelled over my shoulder as I veered off toward our rooms. “Hang on.”

She stopped at the door and waited until I came back. Once outside, we settled back onto the porch swing, each instinctively scrunching closer together, just as we had done when we were little.

“Karmen?”

“Yes?”

“May I tell you something without you getting all pious and huffy?” Emily said into my shoulder. Her words were muffled since her head was buried against my skin. I sensed her apprehension and kept my sarcastic comments to myself.

“Of course. Spill.”

“I know you don’t believe the same way I do, and the thought of Heaven, Hell and an afterlife makes you cringe, but I truly believe that you are in danger. Not just physically, but spiritually. We generally don’t discuss religion, but this isn’t about one belief system over another. Sometimes, I get confused by all the differences that each sect preaches so I try to just stick with the basics. I believe in God. I believe that when we die, we live on in one or two places, the location determined by the way we lived our lives on Earth. But what I want to bring home here is the fact that all this strange activity is centered around you. And, quite frankly, I am scared for you.”

Emily sat up straight and clutched my hand, her fingers trembling as they wound around mine. I wanted to interject, but kept my lips sealed and let her ramble. Her eyes locked onto mine as she continued with renewed fervor.

“The simple facts are that you have been visited, and possibly led by, beings that don’t exist in our world. Call them ghosts, call them demons, call them whatever you like, but whatever you decide to name them doesn’t change the facts of what has happened. You said it yourself that the dreams started a little over six years ago. You were given words, no, books, in them. You experienced visions that changed your life and made you a household name. I’ll admit when you first told me I thought maybe you had been sleepwalking since you said you had no recollection of writing the stories. But then the dreams broke the plane into your reality—and then ours. The underlying question that we need to figure out is why and what this…this contact with the other side means.”

I sighed heavily and stood up. She was so emphatic, so sure of herself and her beliefs and I was still waffling back and forth about mine. As her friend, I accepted her views although I didn’t agree with them. But she was right about one thing. I needed to determine what I was supposed to be writing and why.

I was saved from having to formulate an answer when Mitchell’s truck horn blared as it sped up the driveway. Thank goodness, because I wasn’t sure what I would have said.

“It’s about time! Let’s hope Mom has some answers.” I jumped down the stairs and ran out to greet them, Emily right on my heels.

“May I at least exit the vehicle before you accost me, Karmen?” my mother said, her voice heavy with irritation. I could immediately tell from the furrowed lines on her forehead that she didn’t know any more than when she left.

“Hey, will ya’ll help with the groceries? Your mom damn near bought out the Piggly-Wiggly,” Mitchell said, his smile bright but his eyes full of concern as he looked at me.

Emily and I helped lug the plastic sacks from the back of Mitchell’s truck as I watched my mother walk slowly up the steps toward the house. Her posture was all wrong. She looked dejected, her carriage of a defeated woman. Never had I seen her look anything but regal and poised. I scrambled up the steps and followed her into the house, determined to find out exactly what she did today.

“Ms. Moncrille, that was ’bout the finest meal I’ve had in years! Nothin’ like some rib-stickin’ southern cookin’, I’ll tell ya. MRE’s keep ya fit, but not satisfied.”

Mitchell patted his swollen belly and smiled. At least one of us had an appetite. Emily managed three bites of mashed potatoes to go along with her nearly empty bottle of wine. I kept down one chicken leg and a few bites of green beans, but that was it. Mom had a full plate but simply pushed her food around, giving the illusion that she was eating.

I stood up and took my plate to the sink and started the job of cleaning up the enormous mess she had made while cooking.

“All right Mom, you’ve stalled for two hours now. I need to hear what you found out today.”

“We need to hear,” Emily interjected.

Mom remained seated at the table. Her amber eyes scanned ours. She nodded and brought her plate to the sink and put it down into the soapy water. Holding up a slender finger, she signaled for us to wait while she retrieved her bag.

Emily and I busied our hands with the dishes while Mitchell cleared the table. The air was thick with anticipation and worry. Mom returned with the crinkled pages clasped in her fist.

“Leave these until tomorrow. I’m going to fix a strong pot of coffee and we are all going to sit down and discuss the contents of what you wrote, Karmen. And trust me when I say it’s going to be a long night. I’ll bring the coffee out directly. Please wait for me on the porch. Bring blankets.”

“The words seem to be Latin-based, with a smidgeon of Arabic and Hebrew. Some of the symbols took a while to determine their origin, but the consensus is they are an ancient form of hieroglyphics.”

I was sandwiched between Emily and Mitchell on the swing, a long afghan covering our laps. Mom sat across from us as she poured steaming coffee then gently handed a hot mug to each of us.

“The placement of the words seems haphazard, but we believe it is some sort of coded message. It might take some time to translate after we figure out how to decode it.”

I took a sip of coffee and let those words sink in. “We? Who did you send the fax to, Mom?”

“Uncle Cy,” she said as she settled back into the chair.

I almost dropped my coffee mug. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Of course! Uncle Cy was the most intelligent man I knew, and if he couldn’t figure out the words he certainly had the contacts to for help

Unable to sit still any longer, I flung the blanked back and stood up. “So, what could he determine?”

Mom ran her hand over the paper that sat in her lap, smoothing out the wrinkled pages. She hesitated, gathering her thoughts. The woman that I had always known was cool-headed and never flustered. But the woman that sat in front of me wasn’t, and that scared me almost as much as everything else.

Mitchell and Emily saw her fear and they looked just as worried. Mitchell, the saint that he was, reached his hand over and patted my mom’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Moncrille. Tell us. Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. We’ll stand together and face whatever it is, dontcha worry none about that. This ol’ boy don’t run from anybody or anything that tries to mess with his gal.”

Mitchell turned his face toward mine for a split second and winked. I felt the love hit me right in my heart.

For the first time in my life, I saw tears in my mom’s eyes. I knew what she was about to tell us would change all of our worlds forever. I took a heavy gulp of coffee then knelt down in front of her.

“What did Uncle Cy figure out, Mom?” I whispered, my own tears appearing in response to hers.

She cleared her throat and blinked several times. Her answer was a garbled whisper, her eyes filled with pain and terror as she looked down at me. “That something evil has been unleashed by you and it’s coming to seek and destroy.”

“Why would something want to seek and destroy Karmen?” Emily asked in astonishment.

Mom looked at Emily. “Not just Karmen. All of us.”

I lost my balance and fell onto my ass on the cold hardwood. My vision started to spin and the sounds around me faded. Gone were the voices of my mother, Mitchell and Emily that I heard mere seconds before. They were replaced by the infernal chanting and the numerous voices of the dead screaming in my head…

“It is time, Karmen.”

“Time for what? I screamed before the darkness took me over.

The oddly familiar sound of meowing in the distance woke me up. My head was fuzzy and when I opened my eyes, my vision was blurred. I tried to sit up and when I moved my stiff limbs, a wave of nausea slammed me back down. I turned my head and clawed my way to the edge of the porch and wretched violently.

My throat burned like I had just swallowed a flaming sword. I remained still and gulped the cool night air into my heaving lungs and willed the cobwebs to disappear. After a few seconds, I felt the dizziness pass and sat up. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Panic already had begun to well up inside of me when I realized I was alone.

“Mom? Emily? Mitchell?”

The only thing I heard was another meow. I looked up and saw Furby sitting on the windowsill, his furry feet pawing at the glass. I rolled over onto all fours and maneuvered my wobbly legs under me. I pushed aside the urge to vomit again and stood up. Stumbling, I made my way to the railing and held on for support while I scanned the vast expanse of my yard for signs of life.

All their vehicles sat silently in the driveway. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I realized they were still here. That relief was quickly replaced by irritation. Why did they leave me on the porch alone? The last thing I could remember was eating dinner and I didn’t recall drinking any alcohol, so why was my memory so foggy?

Anger overrode everything else and I stormed inside, ready to give them all a piece of my pissed off mind. “Anyone care to explain why I was left on the porch like yesterday’s garbage?” I yelled out to no one in particular. Furby jumped off his perch and trotted over to me, his huge tail wrapping around my legs. I bent over and picked him up, hugging him tightly to my chest as I headed to Emily’s room.

“Emily, why in the hell did you…”

I snapped my mouth shut when I realized her room was empty, her bed untouched. Her purse, keys and luggage sat in the same spot as before. The green-eyed monster of jealousy reared its ugly head as the images of her in bed with Mitchell exploded inside my head.

No, stop it Karmen! There is no way that either of them would do that to you. Besides, your Mom is here. A parental figure in the next room is not exactly an aphrodisiac.

“All right, guys. This is so not funny. After everything that has happened, you want to freak me out even more? Come on, fun’s over.” I opened the door to my room and froze in my tracks when I saw it was also empty. My bags sat silently next to my mother’s, unopened. Setting Furby down, I ran into the bathroom only to find the same—nothing.

I felt the cold, icicle-like tentacles of fear race through me. The only place left was the kitchen. Please, let them be sitting there having a middle of the night snack attack or something. Maybe Emily convinced my mom and Mitchell to light up and they are all suffering a case of the munchies…

The hallway seemed miles long as I slowly walked to the kitchen. My gut roiled with fear because I knew that they wouldn’t be there. I closed my eyes and steadied my resolve as I came to the threshold that led to the kitchen.

My heart sank when I was greeted by unoccupied chairs.

Where were they?

In a last ditch effort, I dug my cell phone out of my back pocket and tried Emily’s number. It rang several times then went to voicemail. The same thing happened when I tried Mitchell’s and my mom’s phone. A sense of dread hung over me. Not only didn’t they answer the calls, I didn’t hear the phones ring inside the cabin.

I walked back into the small living room and sat down. Furby immediately jumped into my lap and began doing happy feet, pushing and prodding my legs with the pads of his paws to find a comfortable spot. At least he was here.

Absentmindedly, I stroked his soft fur while I rationally tried to determine what was going on. I needed to think things through methodically rather than jumping to wild conclusions. The vehicles were still here. Emily’s and Mitchell’s keys were still here. That meant wherever they went they went on foot. I looked at my watch, surprised it was three a.m.

Did they go for a walk in the woods? Maybe Mom wanted to see the spot we told her about the other day. No, no way. I could see Mitchell doing that, and maybe my mom since she grew up here and probably had no apprehension of the woods. But Emily? The poor thing was already on the verge of a breakdown and I couldn’t imagine anything would convince her to hike back there again, not even in the daylight.

So, where the hell were they?

Lost in thought, I zoned while I stared out the front window. The moon illuminated the tops of the trees and bathed the front yard with its silvery rays. The stars were twinkling like bright fireflies in the distance. But there was something else that caught my eye.

A hazy shade of red.

The second I noticed the amber glow, Furby let out a deep, low growl. His ears flattened and in one swift movement, he dug in his back claws and leapt off my lap and scurried away into the darkness.

“Damn, Furby! Those things are like little daggers! What’s gotten into…” then I stopped cold. The wicked sounds of the infernal chanting enveloped me. The deep vibrations were so loud that the floor and walls started shaking. Pictures and knickknacks fell off the shelves and shattered as they crashed onto the floor. I could hear glass breaking in the kitchen. The noise grew to a fever pitch, so loud that I clamped my hands over my ears just as Emily had done. Just when I thought my eardrums would explode, the mutterings stopped. I took a deep breath and lowered my hands from my ears, my eyes open again and drawn to the pulsating glow that emanated from the trees.

“Karmen! The booming voice was Mitchell’s, and it was the most horrific sound I’d ever heard because it was full of pain. “Karmen, help us! The dual screams of my mother and Emily turned my blood into ice.

The tortured pleadings of my loved ones tore at my soul. Whatever that wanted something from me had them. Red-hot fury ripped through me. I would do whatever I needed to in order to save them.

But, I had to find them first.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a flashlight. I raced back through the house, nearly yanking the screen door from its hinges to get outside. I hit my full stride after the first fifty yards. The night was silent—too silent. Not even a bug made a blip. I concentrated on my breathing and in seconds, I was at the edge of the tree line that led to the heart of the woods.

The chanting from earlier had stopped, but I felt a strange vibration under my feet, like a small electrical current running beneath me. It pulled at me like an invisible string attached to my soul, coaxing me to continue forward.

“Mom…Mitchell…Emily…? Can you hear me?” I screamed into the darkened path ahead of me.

“Karmen, help us!”

When I heard all three voices unite as one, all worry left me and I bolted. My feet ate up the path as I ran. I ignored the small brush that poked and stabbed at me, oblivious to the scraps and cuts they were making on my exposed skin. I kept my focus on the reddish-orange glow that shimmered ahead of me, ignoring the burning pain in my lungs and legs. As I drew closer to it, the air grew hotter and the pungent scent of the forest disappeared. It was replaced with a horrendous stench.

I broke through the tree lines and found myself facing an open expanse of ground. At the center of a large circle was a massive, glowing slab of rock—the source of light that had been my guide through the woods. My heart skipped several beats when I realized there were bodies leaning against it, as well as encircling it. People wearing dark robes and swaying back and forth, their heads titled back toward the heavens, their hands reaching in the same direction.

Fear kept me frozen in place, my shaking legs firmly planted and my heaving lungs unwilling to let words escape my mouth. That was until I realized Mitchell and Emily were the ones bound and gagged against the rock. Oh God, where was my mom?

“Whatever you want from me, I won’t do it until you let them go.” I was surprised at the strength in my voice. Allowing the words to escape gave me renewed vigor so I began walking toward the enclave. “And all deals are off if you have harmed one hair on any of their heads. Now, where is my mother?”

The tallest figure standing at the head of the stone laughed. His deep, baritone voice sent shivers down my spine, but I refused to let it stop me. I was only ten feet from the circle and even if I had wanted to stop, I knew I couldn’t. It was like some otherworldly force was controlling my body.

“Such spirit you possess in the face of fear. Your father would be proud of you.”

The mention of my father stopped me in my tracks, as well as the odd familiarity of the voice. I swallowed the lump in my throat and concentrated my focus on counting the robed figures around me. There were twelve, plus the one that spoke to me. Since I was closer I could hear the light sobs coming from Emily and the labored breathing from Mitchell. My eyes swept over them briefly, noting that both were bound with rope around their hands and ankles, and that they were naked and covered in dirt. Their shredded clothes rested less than five feet away from them.

What did they do to them? To my mother?

I wrenched my eyes away from Emily and Mitchell and focused my attention back to the altar. From my peripheral vision, I watched the twelve that encircled the stone stop swaying. In unison they all shed their robes. The one closest to me turned around, her white body shimmered under the moonlight, illuminating her face. Instant recognition of the beautiful features made my throat dry and my entire body tremble.

“Karmen, do not fear, my child. I’m right here. Come, all will be revealed to you now.”

My mother stood in front of me, naked as the day she was born. Her hair spilled over her bare shoulders and glimmered in the light. She held her slender arm toward me, beckoning me to join her. Relief that she was alive had been replaced by the repulsion I felt when I noticed that her eyes and face were hard as stone.

“What…what are you doing, Mom?” I stuttered.

“She’s helping us usher in the New World, my dear,” said the man next to the altar. His voice hit me like a freight train, barreling through my soul and left a gaping hole in its wake.

“Uncle Cy?”

I couldn’t breathe. My mind was gridlocked. I watched in horror as my mother and uncle joined hands and walked over to me, a look of triumph passed between them as they appeared to float over to me. I shook uncontrollably from their touch as their naked arms encircled my shoulders, although I was unable to move away. The electrical vibrations that I had felt earlier were stronger now, almost magnetic. They held me firmly in place on the cold, damp grass beneath my feet.

“Darling, your time has come. We have waited for twenty-three years for this moment. You were chosen, don’t you see? Your gift, your talent, your destiny, was bought with a great price.”

Mother’s words were spoken in a calm, quiet voice but they still sent panic racing through me. The air froze as she spoke, her hot breath producing wisps of milky colored tendrils of smoke.

“My destiny? Bought with a price? What are you talking about?”

The thing that looked and sounded like my mother stroked my hair and purred into my ear.

“We are about to introduce you to something truly spectacular, truly magical. And no, I don’t mean the fairytales and hokum about witches, vampires, fairies and such. Those things are mere mortal escapes from reality created by the rambling minds of individuals that can’t, or won’t, accept the reality they live in. What I’m talking about is the power that will rule the world. You see, our family belongs to this ancient group of worshipers,” she said, her arm motioned toward the remaining members of the group. “Entry is by birthright and passed down from one generation to the next through the sons and daughters. Or, like in your father’s case, admission is granted through the ultimate sacrifice.”

My mind was reeling as I tried to make sense of her sick words. The subject of my father rarely ever had been broached between us. All I had ever really known was that he had died before I was born in a car accident and that my mom had left the sleepy town of Martin right after his passing to live with Uncle Cy in New York.

The knot in my stomach jerked tighter.

“He didn’t die in an accident, did he?” I whispered.

She was on the other side of me now, her cool hand pressed against my elbow as she slowly guided me toward the altar, her other hand gently stroking my knotted hair.

“No, he didn’t. Your father was gifted with words and he so desired to be the chosen one. But it wasn’t his destiny. He wasn’t from the proper lineage, you see. He even tried to sidestep the requirements by sacrificing his own parents, which did gain him entry into the fold, but nothing else. His destiny was to allow the privilege to be passed on to his child through his willingness to die. So, twenty-three years ago, this very night, he sealed your fate with his precious blood that I spilled.”

I felt my knees buckle underneath me at her words. Hot tears streamed down my face. I recalled all the childhood memories of the story about the tragic fire that killed my grandparents, how my parents met afterwards, told in a loving voice full of sad memories by the same woman that held my arm. Her strong fingers dug into the flesh on my elbow and kept me on my feet. Her voice turned hard.

“I didn’t raise you to be a weak, blubbering fool, Karmen. I didn’t watch the love of my life die in front of me, from my own hands mind you, just to listen to you cry. You are a Moncrille, Karmen. You were born to set things in the order they were meant to be. And you will do just that. Tonight.”

I looked into the eyes of the woman that had been my rock ever since I could recall. Childhood memories whizzed by in a blur and suddenly I realized that my entire existence had been a lie. The eyes that stared back at me were lifeless, dead. No love, no compassion, no soul existed behind them.

This can’t be happening.

“He killed his parents, and you killed him to be a part of this?” The simple bewilderment at the absurdity of grown adults believing in this sick, twisted fairytale suddenly made me furious. “Why?”

Uncle Cy moved closer, his strong hands cupped my face and forced my attention over to him. Normally, his eyes were the color of baby blue but tonight they were as black as the coal that Kentucky was known for.

“Listen, little one,” he began, his voice low, melodic. “How many times have we discussed the awful state of the world? Countless hours we have conversed, lamenting the senselessness of it all. The anger we both feel at the lot in life of those who live in squalor and filth while others sleep on satin sheets and eat caviar. How many times did you share with me your own guilt of the vast wealth you have accumulated—which fueled your desire to give so much of it away to charity?”

As Uncle Cy spoke with eloquence and candor, I heard his words but felt them flow throw me at the same time. Behind him, the pulsating light began to shift colors from the previous deep orange to a vibrant crimson, its liquid movements synchronized with my pounding heart.

“Remember the disgust we shared when we heard about how despondent souls commit atrocities over their dread of losing their possessions? The wails of the orphaned, their parents lost to them forever from addiction, shootings, poverty or simply abandoning them to pursue a variety of selfish lusts? Streets are littered with human trash and the world turns a blind eye, too busy focusing their sights on their own needs.

“We have seen countries wage war with each other over the natural resources that lay under the ground. Bodies vaporized, corpses rotting in the streets from bioterrorism. Technology has advanced so far that we have weapons that are capable of destroying the entire planet—and are in the demented hands of world leaders that could snap at any time. Bloody battles have been waged for centuries over which religion interprets the mind of God correctly. We are humanity, united by the bonds of DNA, yet we seem doomed to separate and segregate each other by our outward appearances and differences. And to covet with insatiable desire what our neighbors have.”

Uncle Cy’s words flowed over me, caressing and probing deep inside my heart. As they always had, they calmed my mind and seeped into every neuron. A feeling of deep warmth spread through me as his melodic voice lulled me into a state of calming bliss.

Yes, yes. I understand.

“You can end all of that. Your words have that power, my dear. They are the culmination of all the supplication and prayers from centuries of worshippers that have awaited His coming. Once they are spoken by Him, the world will forever be changed. No more war. No more sickness. No more frivolous fighting that accomplishes nothing except to breed more hate. Poverty obliterated with us all on even, common ground. Freedom will truly reign supreme. The freedom to live as each diverse heart wishes with no limitations or restrictions attached. Imagine it, Karmen: true liberation from the bondage of guilt. The words were given to you and, once spoken, will set the captives free.”

As I stared into the limpid pools of Uncle Cy’s eyes, I felt his words pierce every part of my heart, mind and soul. While he spoke, images of all the death, destruction, famine and pain caused by man’s inhumanity to man appeared in my mind. For the first time in six years, I felt joyful exuberance overtake me. If my words could be used to rid suffering of the world, wasn’t it my duty to use them?

“There is just one caveat, dear,” Uncle Cy said, his voice tender yet authoritative. “You must be willing to step into this circle with a heart full of love for mankind and make the sacrifice that will give your words their life-force. There’s power in the shed blood of an innocent. Are you willing, my child?”

My mouth was dry and my heart seemed to have stopped beating. I felt like a spectator watching myself from a distance. I watched my head nod yes involuntarily and saw the smile that broke out across Uncle Cy’s and my mother’s faces.

“Shed your earthly encumbrances and step forth into the inner circle,” my mother whispered behind me. I never took my eyes off Uncle Cy as I did what was asked. Once I was unclothed, Uncle Cy motioned for me to come closer. In his hand he held a long, silver dagger. He extended his hand and the blade tip touched my forehead.

“Sister, do you make this offering of your own free will and enter into this blood pact with open eyes?”

“I do,” I heard myself say.

“Now, you must choose your sacrifice,” he said, his eyes darting over to Emily and Mitchell. They were terrified, their faces white from fear. I felt a twinge of sadness for them. Hadn’t they been listening to what Uncle Cy said? They were witnessing the end of tyranny!

Uncle Cy handed me the dagger.

“Sister, you must offer up the one that you love the most. Which one shall it be?”

“Him,” I said, pointing the dagger at Mitchell. Immediately, the other members of the circle converged on Mitchell and picked him up and deposited his writhing body on the altar. The smooth rock was a vibrant burgundy, throbbing in tune with my own heartbeat. Uncle Cy and my mother moved next to me in silent unison. The electrical surge under my feet spread up and through my body, warming my soul from the inside.

“Sister, offer your sacrifice as you say the words, ‘Let the truth be known.’”

I stood over Mitchell and looked into his eyes, then plunged the knife deep into his heart.

“Let the truth be known.”