A Fly in the Ointment

Rich Donaldson pursues a gnawing suspicion and takes action.

Leading him to Ipswich and the Demonic Cassandra.

Can his human arsenal handle the situation?

And what of Alex, Jonah and Maggie?

Transcript

Fiction Disclaimer And Warnings

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The following podcast is a work of fiction. All characters are the creation of Peter Williams. Any resemblance to someone living or dead is purely coincidental. Thank you. A gunshot rings through the air, changing the sense of impending doom to a shot of hope. As Cassandra needs to focus not just on the defeated Jonah, but this chief Donaldson and that troublesome weapon left behind by that accursed detective. Even now. Even now, we need to remind you that this podcast may contain images of graphic founds, town endangerment, adult situations, and of course our favorite naughty, salty language. Now. Now from impending doom to pending hope, as we begin chapter 16: A Fly in the Ointment. It was about 3 42 p.m. on All Hollows Eve when Chief Donaldson closed the file Mark had given him the night before. Ugh, knuck! Rich says as he downs a mouthful of cold coffee. That's quite a story. He stands up and shakes off the aches in his joints and his desire to sleep. Marco nods. Now what? He asks. From what I'm gathering, warm is trying to prevent Silas and Cassandra from getting their hands on that Zat kid. Yes, sir, Marco acknowledges. And you've heard nothing from Alex oppresses. No. Nor have I, which means things have gone sideways. The chief replies as he takes a ring of keys off of his belt and unlocks a gun cabinet. How can you be so sure? Marco asks, a little surprised by Rich's actions. Call it gut instinct. Rich takes out a savage bolt action rifle. So are you suggesting we head to West Hollow based on your gut? Nope, Richard replies with a smile. What? Marco asks, confused. I say we check out this ancient gate Warren was worried about. In Ipswich? The exasperated Marco questions as Rich closes a rifle in its case and swings it over his shoulder. Do you have a better idea? Well, no, but look, Marco, if I'm wrong, no harm, no foul. We catch up with Warren and Alex, enjoy a meal, get scolded, and go home. If not, Marco thinks about the consequences of that ancient gate being opened. Richard Donaldson, Marco Rinecliffe pull up behind an auspicious line of cars sitting on the access path to the cemetery. I say auspicious because it meant that he and Marco were definitely in the right place. The all-black, tinted windowed Ford cargo van left haphazardly by Silas, an orange-colored RAV 4 that stuck out like a sore thumb, parked close enough to be touching the van, and a very familiar, although a little older, more beat-up, Dodds charger that even had the fading symbol of the Montgomery Police Department. That meant Warren was here. Or so he hoped. As Marco puts his Lincoln Navigator into park, Rich doesn't hesitate to bark out a few orders before jumping out to check the vehicles. Wait here. Marco gives him a woeful look as he unbuckles. But wait here. I want to check the other vehicles before we start rushing around. Rushing around was something that usually got you dead in his world, and Chief Donaldson would have none of that. Yes, sir. Marco takes a deep breath. He doesn't like sitting around waiting, and he didn't like this uneasy feeling growing in his heart. Son of the Sacred Dawn's most infamous Dr. Rheincliffe, and a skilled healer himself, preferred being on the move and taking care of his allies. Rich takes out his 9mm Luger handgun and slowly approaches each car. The first one confirms his worst suspicions, dried blood covering the driver's seat and floor, the keys still hanging in the ignition, and strewn across the passenger seat a familiar robe. Moving quickly then to the RAV4 and the black fan, he finds nothing. Only wheel markings on the floor of the van. Perhaps a gurney? Holstering the pistol, he hurries back to the charger, waving Marco over. Shit, Marco says, That's a lot of blood. Yeah, Rich agrees. Let's hope we're not too late. Grab your medical gear. Spying a gleam of silver under Jonah's robes, he moves the robes aside and frowns. A Colt 45 lies at the center of the seat, next to a couple of boxes of ammo. Things Warren wouldn't just leave for anyone to find, especially since the gun was a present from their old friend, Geraldine Hicks. He checks the revolver. The safety is on, but it's loaded and not with the typical copper-coated rounds. They look more like pure silver. Werewolf hunting? He says half-jokingly. No, they weren't meant for werewolves, but demons. He had seen them and used them before, and the fact that they lay here only heightened his concerns. Marco returns with the medical bag and rich stuffs, every extra bullet, into any empty pocket he can find. What are you doing? If these are here, Marco, then my personal arsenal won't cut it. Aren't those? Yeah. And that doesn't give me a good feeling. Ready? Marco nods in the affirmative. They turn the face of the cemetery. A dense, dark red glow is emanating at the back. See that? Holy What in his name? Nothing holy about that, Marco. Rich checks his watch. 11.40 p.m. Then, as if someone released some dark malevolence, the very air darkens and both men feel an icy chill. They look over to the direction they feel it coming from, and they see what looks like a funnel of demonic energy. Let's move! We're out of time! Rich yells as he takes the safety off, and the two men hurry towards the swirling mass. Thanks to the red glow, they no longer need to carry cumbersome flashlights to make their way as the eerie glow illuminates the grounds, revealing a clear path between them and the grave markers. As they clear a brush-strewn hill, the two men hide in a caddy-cornered fashion behind a weather-worn stone cross. The ground levels out a bit, and a small road cuts between the sections along the back. Near its edge, a lone figure stands, his right hand in the air, as if marking a spot. Here was the source of the demonic whirlwind. Jonah Hollander. What are you doing, Jonah? Rich grumbles. As Jonah turns the very night pitch black upon itself, making a strange contrast to the surrounding crimson that seemed to pour over everything as if light itself had turned to blood. A row of mausoleums line the back of the cemetery, and from one comes a flash of white light. After a minute, the man drops his arm, the vortex dissipating in the air, consumed by the all-encompassing red. A blot of darkness emerges out of the mouth of the mausoleum. A walking void, a mass of tentacle-like tendrils that waved like arms in the air, reaching forth, eyes rolled upon themselves as they all came to focus on one lone man. It lifted a human-sized object high into the air. At Birch, Rich panicked, thinking it could be Alex, forcing him to hold Marco back. Wait, it's not Alex, he says to Marco. Rich realizes there's only one person that it can be. Shit! Jonah seems crushed as the body is flung across the grounds. A few feet from him, he rushes towards it. That confirms it. Maggie. Marco hears the gun trigger pull back and looks over to see the intensity on Rich's face. You head back towards Jonah and that girl, he barks. And before Marco can argue, Rich is now down the slight embankment and running directly at whoever that black mass is. He hears a demonic laugh as a tendril shoots across the field and into Jonah's back. Marco runs down towards Jonah, who is covering the woman that Marco sees slumped to the ground. Right, he thinks to himself, let them handle the monsters. It's my job to save life. Jonah stands up, tendril still running through him. That same dark glow that had turned the sky pitch was now manifesting inside him, and Jonah turned back towards the demonic void that stood in front of the mausoleum. The woman lies still on the ground, and the sound of a gun booms through the night. Jonah turns his burning, amorous eyes towards the encroaching Rich Donaldson and gives the man a half smile. Marco, meanwhile, slides down next to the fallen woman. She's cold and has lost a lot of blood. He checks her pulse. Nothing. Damn it! He opens up his shirt and starts CPR. As he compresses her chest, his hands begin to glow as he silently prays over her. Over her body. What's her name? He shouts out to the distracted Jonah. Maggie, why? The glow from Marco's hands now encompass Maggie's body. Father, Lord of all, I call back your servant Maggie. If it is thy will, let her live. A crack of thunder rolls across the cemetery, and Maggie's body jolts as if struck by lightning. Her eyes flash open and she starts to breathe. Cassandra hears the blast of the gun and ignores its sound. Human weapons have stunk. Like being hit with hot molten lava. Something tears through one of her gibbering mouths and eyes. With hot anger, she turns towards the running Rich Donaldson and immediately recognizes the gun in his hand. She knows exactly what it is. She knows who Rich Donaldson is. Maybe it would be best to retreat inside the tomb while Ekmalak takes form and she goes to move and can't. She's still attached to the demon eater. Keeping one eye focused on the approaching Chief Donaldson, she starts trying to disengage the tendril from Jonah, who seems to have a look of sadistic satisfaction on his face. What could be ah? Behind him, someone is trying to call Maggie back. Foolish idea. The world is about to end. Why? She raises several more tendrils into the air to form a defensive barrier while looking for an opportunity to strike again. Eyes roll in every direction, including behind her. What's going on in that tomb? Midnight is upon them. Why is this taking so long? Jonah re-engages Cassandra. What's wrong, Mother of Demons? He's walking forward as he talks, tendril still in his body. Nothing! She barks at him. You look worried, frustrated. Cassandra doesn't respond. Another bullet flies through the air, severing another tendril. It drops to the ground, melting away as if it never existed. Impossible! Impossible! How? A mix of conflicting lights begin to emerge from within the crypt. She could feel Ekmoloch's presence, but something else was there. Something that should be impossible. That blade! That accursed sword! Why hadn't she realized it? She had actually brought the enemy directly into contact with her master. Fine, she thought. I will overwhelm these two and allow her master to complete the process. Once again, she shoots several tendrils out first at the accursed demon eater. Trying to eat me, are you? She growls. I will give you more than you can handle, demon eater! To her surprise, Jonah doesn't dodge or try to block the tentacles as they pierce him. He coughs black blood as his eyes grow darker and deeper. Oh, I'm not just trying, Cassandra. I think it's time you join your sister. Light and life. They hang by a thread. Yet life breathes through Maggie and through Jonah. And something unexpected forms in the darkness of the tomb. What did they miss? Have we found a reason to believe in tomorrow? As we turn to chapter 17, and Spirit was today.