Frozen fear, p.27
Frozen Fear, page 27
“Hey,” began the blue-haired warlock, smirking, “I can’t use some scented candle you got from your little sister’s Wiccan tea party starter set. All I need from you are the personal effects.”
“The personal effects are in there,” said Adam.
“Yeah,” agreed Russ, sucking his gut in and trying to look tough. Josh wondered if they might beat down the robed sorcerer guy if he kept up his attitude. The robed guy rummaged through the Kroger bag contents, gave a “Hmmm!” then a “Nice,” and said, “Hair, nail clippings, and a used condom. It’s nasty as fuck, but always very effective.”
Corey opened his little suitcase, took out a shiny black bowl, and unceremoniously dumped the bag’s contents into it, shaking it out. Russ and Adam squeezed in to take a look into the bowl. Corey told them to please back up and they scooched back barely two inches. Corey said back up more and when they hesitated, Corey sternly asked if there was a problem. Russ stepped up to him, poked him in the chest, and said, “I think you’re the one with the problem!”
Billy finally stepped in between them.
“Hey, Corey, chill,” he shoved Russ backward and told him to give Corey space.
“Fuck you, Billy.” Russ retorted.
“I can’t do this.” Corey the warlock wiped his sweating forehead with his sleeve and stammered on, “I cannot work in these conditions!”
“Hey,” said Billy stepping up to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Look!” Corey pointed at Clay Brock on the other side of the clearing, sitting on the hood of his tow truck, “Look at that redneck, I think he’s one of your kin, Russ, from his looks, sitting there, guzzling beers, and you there...”
He motioned to Russ and Adam who were still holding Josh’s arms tightly.
“You are holding this little kid like you’re going to take his lunch money and beat him up. Those guys over there are just lollygagging—”
“Okay,” asked Billy. “So, what do I do for you?”
“This is a demon summoning, Billy, not a Kid Rock concert! There are important ritual prerequisites, standards to be upheld, conventions that must be followed−”
He collapsed onto his little stool and slumped his shoulders heaving while Billy fanned him. Josh saw that he was wearing orange Crocs under his robe. Billy whipped out a plastic a bottle of Aquafina from a pocket of his cargo shorts and handed it to Corey who chugged it as soon as he stopped hyperventilating. Corey complained that the water was lukewarm.
“Just chill, “said Billy. “When you are ready, then do the ritual. You benefit too, Corey.”
Corey just nodded, eyes closed, getting control of his breathing again, “I told you I needed a lime water, Billy— filtered water with a wedge of lime.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Next time, don’t forget.”
“There’s no next time. You are still going to do the ritual, right?” asked Billy.
“Yes, I will. I should just pack up and leave and normally, I would. I’m going to make an exception this time since you already paid me in full and I am a practitioner who keeps his word.”
“Thank you,” replied Billy.
“Give me a few minutes to catch my breath, ground myself, then I’ll do it.”
He did exactly that. Corey put his little altar into place. When he unsnapped the box to his sacrificial knife, Billy showed him the knife. He’d whipped it from the side pocket of his cargo pants. When he glanced at it, he almost shrugged, then his eyes lingered over the knife and he took it from Billy.
“This knife has been used!”
“Oh, yeah,” answered Billy.
Corey smiled widely, “It’s warm, it’s alive. It is best for the intention; may I use it? Do you consent?”
“Go ahead,” said Billy.
Corey smoothed a purple silk cloth over the top of his little altar and spread out his implements on it. He set up and lit small black tapers in little glass jars on each point of the pentagram he chalked. He focused, did his motions, and said his incantations. None of the ears within distance understood what he was saying. What language was it? Was it Latin?
Corey sliced his hand with the knife. Josh had an intuition there’d be gore from not just him, and there it was. Corey didn’t even wince as he sliced open his hand. He let it flow freely over the personal effects in the bowl before him. He spoke a few more strange words and flung the contents of the bowl into the center of the five-pointed star.
Josh felt electricity in the air. He saw something resembling sparks in the humid air. Zaps of light like tiny fireflies, then little squiggly lines coalesced and a burning smell rose.
Josh wondered what would happen if he made a run for it. Most likely he’d get beaten up before killed. Not a winning strategy. He couldn’t believe so many kids were there. Why the hell would these maniacs want to bring this monster back from the grave? ‘They think he is going to help them. What did he promise them?’ He wondered. At least Billy had a legit reason−to stay alive. These other guys were just sick in the head, especially the celebrity Demonologist, Corey.
He had heard of Corey. He was kind of famous with the Sweetville occult crowd, i.e., Georgie and his crew. Supposedly, he was popular on social networks, did videos and shorts on magic and demonology, and posted them on his Instagram too. Josh had overheard him bragging about his five thousand YouTube subscribers when they first walked up. He wondered how Billy had talked him into doing the ritual. How much did he pay him? Billy could still afford this after his parents had paid his medical bills?
Josh saw a human stick figure forming above the pentagram. His arms looked super long; his hands were claw-like, although scant on details. Here he comes. The miniature lightning bolts creating his stick-figure skeleton thickening into red and purple cords that emerged over the pentagram, like earthworms from the soil. It was becoming a pinkish flesh tone−the purple lines were blood vessels. It wavered and floated. The ragtag group of kids previously milling around were now staring up in rapt attention. Nervous chatter. A few guys mentioned wanting to leave.
“That thing looks so evil,” someone said. “That can’t be real,” said someone else. “Looks pretty fucking real!” whispered another.
Corey’s pudgy little arms were raised to the sky, hands clenched in fists, dark blood running down his left arm. Adam whispered to Russ if it was time to sacrifice “that boy” and if not, when? Russ said he didn’t know. Adam sounded scared, then admitted maybe he didn’t want to do this. “Are you fuckin serious?’ spat Russ then called him a chicken shit.
“You really wanna go to jail for this kid?” replied Adam. Russ retorted with more profanity and names. Adam retorted with some of his own.
“Hey!” whispered Corey, angrily. “Shut up! Your quarreling is very rude to our guest!”
He slapped Russ in the chest and Josh thought Russ was going to punch him. Josh heard some murmuring behind him that several others in the audience voiced wanting to leave. A few probably did leave. Most of them stayed. Josh saw a couple teens holding up cell phones, filming the demon summoning like it was main stage at Coachella. Russ barked at Corey, asking him if he was ready to sacrifice Josh.
“A sacrifice?” Corey shook his head and shook his hands. “So, you want to kill this kid? You do know that’s called murder, right? And it’s illegal?”
“Well, that’s what Mister Yum Yum wants,” said Adam. “That’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“Sacrifice!” scoffed Corey the sorcerer, “That’s so primitive!”
Russ grabbed the knife from the altar and pulled Josh by the front of his shirt. Up until that, Josh had been wondering if they were really serious about killing him. It seemed like a lot of tough-guy posturing. As soon as Russ twisted the front of his shirt and stared into his eyes, he was a believer. Josh grabbed Russ’ wrist and tried to shake the knife loose. Russ muttered harsh words at him. Before he could back the words up, he was shoved backward, the knife falling to the ground. The next time he saw the knife, it was in Billy’s hand.
Adam grabbed him from behind as Josh made a break for it. Billy said, “I’m sorry, Josh,” and thrust the knife toward his gut. The knife fell to the ground. Billy picked up the knife and tried again. The knife fell to the ground, yet again. Corey had said, ‘It’s alive.’ Yes, it was. The knife was alive, belonged to him, and it was too loyal to pierce his skin.
“I need a different knife,” He handed Josh’s knife to Russ then, while Corey stood horrified, proceeded to dismantle the altar on top of the chest. Corey’s knife was inside. Corey protested, throwing up his soft but scar-laced hands. Russ shoved him to the ground and threatened to hit him if he stood up. Corey sat, sulking and his mouth open.
“You’re not doin’ this, Billy,” sneered Russ. “I’m taking this power. I’m gonna kill this kid. I’m going to prison and gonna get famous. I’m gonna be a king in jail! Bitches love sick-ass murderers like me. My life is gonna be fucking lit. Now move it, pussy.”
“Give me the knife, dummy,” said Billy. “I have to do it.”
“You can’t even hold the fucking thing!”
Billy kicked Russ aiming between his legs, landing it somewhere close and Russ cursed. They both dropped the ritual knives into the dirt as Russ charged into Billy knocking him off his feet with a shout of triumph. Piggy Russ thought he won for a moment. Russ panted, sounding out of breath. For a second it looked like he was going to collapse but he revived quickly and jumped on Billy.
Adam shoved Josh to the ground. Adam’s dirty ball cap fell off and landed beside him. He grabbed Josh by the hair and told him to stay down.
“Run, Adam,” said Josh. “Don’t go down with this asshole. Let me go and run. Fast.”
“Shut up. You aren’t talking your way out of this.”
Behind them, grunts and fists pounding flesh. Russ Brock was beating the hell out of Billy Tolliver.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clay was nodding off from the hood of his truck, waking only when the demon started appearing where all the kids were gathered. Some guys were filming it, holding up their phones like they were at a party. Oh, well, just an evil apparition being summoned out of the air.’ It probably happened all the time these days, thought Clay, due to the Illuminati messing around with the Hadron Collider.
As soon as he saw his brother tussling with the tall kid, Clay slid off the hood and headed over to them. Family was family, and if you mess with one, you messed with all. Russ was handling himself pretty well, about to kick the tall kid’s ass. Russ had him pinned to the ground, pounding his face. Clay was surprised Russ could fight so well.
The blue-haired warlock waddled up to him, putting his hands up, motioning him to stop.
“Get out! Please respect the ceremony. We have a guest if you can’t tell.”
He extended his stubby blooded arm out, gesturing to the towering balloon-headed creature snapping its teeth at the slack-jawed onlookers.
Clay sneered at him. Corey got up in this face and poked his finger into his chest. “I’m summoning demons here, Billy-Bob! Go fuck your sister somewhere else.”
This creep was unbearable. Clay reached for the knife he kept on a sheath on his belt. He hadn’t dressed a deer in years but even after Julie, he kept it razor sharp. He buried it into Lil’ Gandalf’s round belly and twisted it good. He did not die comfortably. The fat dipshit crumpled slowly and expired into the dirt. There was no hiding this one, Clay thought to himself. Sure, he just bought himself a witnessed murder rap, but there was no way he was taking shit from that guy.
At ground zero, Russ was holding a long wavy knife; its blade had to be ten inches long giving off a violet radiance. Russ shoved Billy hard and stood up. It looked like he was holding a short sword. Clay told him to, “Hurry it up,” and before another word left his mouth, his brother lunged forward and drove the knife through Clay’s stomach. Clay released a blistering scream.
“I-I can’t control it!” squeaked Russ, his brother’s blood covering his pudgy pale hands. “My arms are locked!” It was too little and late for his sibling. Clay grunted as Russ’ knife sawed into his stomach, in and out, three times. He collapsed to the ground; entails draped over him. Clay died minutes later.
Russ flipped the knife so that the point poked into his belly. He felt invisible hands directing his own, twisting the handle or maybe it was the possessed knife doing the work. “No, no no no−” went Russ. The Japanese would call it Hari-Kari, but Russ was calling it Holy-Fuck-I’m-Stabbing-Myself. The wet sounds were fast and hard as Russ’s pathetic groans sang along in time. He fell across his dying older brother.
Immediately the pentagram lit up on the ground like someone had flicked on a switch. The additional blood was a power surge. It was like no light he had ever seen, wavering out in the nearly-fading daylight. It had a hypnotizing effect. Adam was still on top of Josh, sweaty and smelly. Josh asked, “Why don’t you let me go? You need to get the hell out of here. You’re probably next.”
“What do you mean?”
‘He’s killing off the easy ones first; the stupid ones,’ he wanted to say. “He’s using all you guys for an easy power supply. He needs you to get me. Save yourself, Adam.”
“Honestly, I would,” Adam said, “But my arms are fuckin’ pinned. They won’t move. That demon is doing it.”
The rusted bulk of the metal ice cream truck rose and drifted over to the pentagram. The monster stood above it. As it waved its thin smoky fingers, the bent and corroded metal straightened and smoothed out. A new windshield shined and sparkled; factory new. Its round headlights blasted to life. When Josh looked at it all he thought about was Jasper Lake, and how it wobbled up to him. He envisioned the shiny little truck as a ball of paper and gave it a toss. The truck went flying as if propelled by some invisible slingshot. Josh still had a chance; his power had worked yet again. The truck splashed into the lake, loud as dynamite.
The rage from Mister Yum Yum was so explosive Josh and Adam had been lifted off the ground, dirt and dried deadfall pitched into the air. The air was hot and rushing like inside a furnace. Billy Tolliver, a looming serial killer, was still back there somehow. ‘Where are you, sicko?’ He could hear him groaning somewhere behind him. Russ had beaten him pretty badly.
Adam rolled off him. Josh acted quickly. With his foot, he pushed Russ over, so he was laying on his back, the handle of Georgie’s old ritual knife sticking out of him. He pulled it out of him. It was not pleasant. All that warm clinging blood. Russ groaned. He’s still alive?
Where was the other knife? Josh guessed it was close to where Clay and Russ Brock was laying. He could hear Billy groaning and breathing heavily.
Josh looked up. Bad idea. What he saw floating over the pentagram made his blood ice cold.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gwen Taylor felt something was wrong as soon as she pulled into her driveway. Her hackles were up before she even pulled in so, now, she hit Code Red.
“You tell your boy, Josh, to stay away from Billy Tolliver.” Ms. Gilbert had told her in a very serious tone. “Billy’s only eleven but he is sick. He killed his uncle. I’ve known his grandmother since high school. She says he’s messed up. Joyce and Kenneth are oblivious to what’s wrong with their precious Billy boy. He pushed down on the gas while his uncle was backing up the car. Ripped his head off. Glenda, his grandmother, said he was laughing about it openly the whole time. He even threatened to kill her once. He can play being a sweetie, Gwen, but he is the complete opposite. And he isn’t ever gonna be good mentally, or anything else, ever.”
Mrs. Gilbert launched into that caveat as Gwen unpacked groceries on the old woman’s kitchen counter. She happened to mention to Mrs. Gilbert that Billy Tolliver had been playing basketball at her house, after being sick for so long. Wasn’t that nice? Apparently not.
Her denial fell away as the full picture fell into place. The picture. Tyler’s last podcast. They both pointed out how sick Billy was. Yet she left Josh only alone with that kid.
Her knees felt weak when she walked out to her car. I left my son with a monster. My only son.
She hurried home, vowing to never leave her last son, her little cub by himself ever again. Sitting in her car, looking over her driveway, she felt that something was askew. All four boys had left. Josh was probably inside. That wasn’t the weird thing. Beyond where the boys had been sitting, the carport and the fence to the backyard looked subtly altered. It was like that Spot the Difference game in activity books and online that showed two seemingly identical pictures that had very subtle differences the player was supposed to find.
She got out and walked to the carport. Ah ha. The back gate. It was open. Maybe the kids had been playing back there. The metal patio chair. It was shoved at a weird angle. Not only was it at a weird angle, but it had been moved almost two feet like someone had ripped through the back gate and shoved the chair back.
‘Why would they move the chair?’ she thought. ‘Josh wouldn’t let his friends shove my yard stuff around.’ She whipped her head to the left, thinking she saw something in the bushes lining the walkway. Removing her sunglasses, she caught faint movement. ‘I saw a head. I saw a head sticking out from under the patio. If it’s not Josh’s head, we’ve got a problem.’
She was showing symptoms of the insanity that went around. So much talk about boogeymen the past weeks. Hysteria was what it was, mass hysteria. There could not be any truth to it. After Georgie’s corpse had been found in that rusty truck in the alley, the last strand of her rationality had snapped.
Was that Mister Yum Yum? Maybe he was in the bushes. Maybe on the roof, too! Monsters are everywhere! ‘Are Ed and Lorraine Warren available?’ she thought weirdly, ‘Any local paranormal investigators I can call? Is there an App for that?’
She heard a noise behind her and whipped around. Nothing was there. As she was pivoting her head back to the patio, someone ran from that direction and disappeared from her sight.
