The Burning Time (36 page)

You’re a country fool, John Root!
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. As long as the fetishes were in place, no one could exit the park.

“Get a piece of wood, a stick, anything long. When you get to the main entrance, find one of the two fetishes I hid there and move it. You’ll need the stick to reach through the barrier. As soon as you break the circle, you’ll be free to leave, and so will everyone else. Hurry!”

“John...”

He nodded to her. “I know. But I still have one trick up my sleeve.” Before she could say anything else, he took off at a run, dodging tentacles and panicked townspeople.

The thing that had been Cyrus Christian stood in the same place John had last seen him, steady as a mountain while the ground quaked all around him. More than anything else, he resembled an ancient corpse magically reanimated, his white hair waving wildly in the wind, gaping wounds in his skin leaking vile fluids, and his eyes covered with cataracts so thick it seemed impossible he could see through them.

“Trickster!” John shouted.

The opaque eyes turned toward him.

“I’m coming for you now!” John held up the empty jar Mitch had used against the Asuggath.

Christian couldn’t tell the jar was empty, but he could see the effects on the Asuggath’s body. He turned and bolted away from John. As he ran, the Asuggath’s tentacles aided his escape, clearing the way before him and blocking it after he passed. John followed as best he could, dodging the snapping, whipping appendages while trying to keep his quarry in sight.

As the neared the side of the park that bordered Route 16, John caught sight of Christian’s tall, insect-like form at the bottom of the small slope that led to the road.

I’ve got him trapped!
All he needed was for Danni and Mitch to take a few moments longer before they broke the circle.

Christian saw him approaching and traced more symbols in the air. Without warning, the ground gave way in front of John, tumbling him into a shallow hole. Before he could regain his feet, the sides of the hole collapsed on him, burying him to his waist. A second later, the heavens exploded with thunder and a torrential rain began to fall. By the time John fought his way free from the muddy pit, Christian was nowhere in sight.

Looking both ways to see where he’d gone, John instead saw people running from the fair grounds and back toward town.

The circle’s broken. He was freed.

Now what do I do?

John turned and strode back to the fair.

*   *   *

John walked through a scene that resembled the aftermath of a barbarian raid. Broken and dismembered bodies lay everywhere, the heavy downpour washing blood and body parts down into the Abyss. Only a handful of booths remained, the rest either dragged away by the Asuggath or crushed beneath its tentacles.

How many dead or missing? Dozens? Hundreds?
He knew that even if he succeeded in his task, Hastings Mills might never recover from the Trickster’s visit.

Putting his shoulders down, he forced his way through the tempest, careful to place his feet on solid ground. Rainwater flowed into the crevices and craters, washing bodies and debris into oblivion. When he finally reached the main entrance, John paused.
Now what? Christian could have gone anywhere.

Barely audible over the cacophony of human cries and blaring car horns that still filled the air, the pealing of bells reached him.

The church.

Of course. It’s his center of power in the town.

John’s lips tightened as he took off at a run through the torrential rain.

Our Lady of Perpetual Hope had the appearance of a long-abandoned building when John reached it. Oddly-colored vines and funguses covered the walls and stairs and the doors hung crookedly from broken hinges. The inside was even worse. Pews lay overturned or in jumbled piles. Frescos lay broken on the floor. Strange growths hung from the ceiling, waving back and forth even though there was no breeze. Just past the entrance, the font resembled a stagnant pond, filled with green slime that bubbled and stunk of decay.

“I knew you would come.” Christian’s voice. Weaker than before, but still powerful enough to fill the cavernous church over the sounds of the storm.

John peered into the gloomy depths and saw his enemy standing behind his pulpit, as if preparing to give a final sermon.

“Enough is enough,” John said, entering the church. Beneath his feet, the once bright-red carpet was faded and slippery with mold.

“You’re quite right,” Christian said. He gripped the lectern with gnarled hands as the ground shook again, sending candles and statues to the floor. “Asuggath is almost ready to breach completely through the veil, and then I’ll be on my way. Pity you won’t be around to see it. But I suppose you can take comfort in believing you’ll be reunited with your lovely wife in the hereafter. Oh, wait. What about Ms. Anderson and her brother? Won’t they be there as well? I imagine that could be awkward. Unless heaven allows multiple partners these days.”

John’s heart clenched at the mention of Danni and Mitch. Had they made it out alive?

Shaking his head, John continued down the center of the church. “I know what you’re trying to do, Old One. But it won’t work. I’m not falling for your tricks.”

“No tricks this time.” Christian said. “I don’t need them. You’ve already lost, just like your mother, and her mother before her. Now it’s time for you to see what they saw, right before they died.” He held a leather-bound book. “I sent my little friends to your whore’s house. Look what they found.” He opened the grimoire and began reading.

“Cthluhu, Yog-Sothoth, Hastur, Azetoth!

Th’glou n’gtam Asuggath R’lyeh osi’gah attam

B’ryal dol myrl accu’rah

Asri, Asuggath! Asri!”

Pieces of the ceiling cracked and fell as the walls groaned and the floor twisted and bucked. Windows shattered and overstressed beams splintered. Outside, the skies loosed a barrage of thunder louder than anything John had ever heard before. He dove to one side as the church floor split down the center, a gaping wound that stretched from the doors to the alter. Boiling-hot steam rose up, carrying the vile reek of brimstone and rotting flesh.

“Behold the doorway to R’lyeh! Beyond the veil lies the Sleeping God, who sleeps no more! Hear me, Asuggath! I bid you welcome!”

An unholy bellow echoed from deep within the earth, riding a blast of foul air. John got to his knees and took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. Gasping from the hellish stink, he began to read, mouthing the unfamiliar words slowly and carefully.

“X’cha n’kou ru chi Asuggath

Ama k’lyam sho-ta Cthulhu

X’cha n’kou ru chi Asuggath!”

Christian’s triumphant expression disappeared as sudden fear twisted his cadaverous features into something akin to a Halloween mask.

“No! You can’t know that spell. Only I—” He fell silent as he realized the truth.

John paused in his recitation and allowed himself a small smile. “Only you have a copy of it? That was true, until I removed it from your grimoire.”

Christian let out an inarticulate scream and charged down the altar steps, narrowly avoiding the six-foot wide crevice.

Undeterred, John returned to reciting the spell for banishing Asuggath.

“X’cha n’kou ru chi Asuggath

Ama k’lyam sho-ta Cthulhu

X’cha n’kou ru chi Asuggath!”

Christian had nearly reached John when the entire building shook and the crevice suddenly spread wider. The floor fell away beneath John, and he found himself hanging on for his life, his feet dangling over the endless blackness of the rift. Ten feet away, Christian was already pulling himself back over the edge.

John did a quick calculation in his head. His enemy would easily reach him before he could pull himself up, leaving him helpless to defend himself. There was only one way to avoid defeat.

“Trickster!” he called out in as loud a voice as he could muster. Christian paused and looked at him.

John let go of the edge with the hand that still held the banishment spell.

“If you want it back, here it is.” John let the paper fall into the abyss.

“No!” Christian jumped after it. The Stygian blackness quickly swallowed his form, and his screams faded away to nothing soon after.

Once again, the ground commenced its rumbling, only this time the edges of the crevice drew closer instead of separating. John grabbed at the wooden floor, crying out as two of his fingernails peeled back. He kicked his feet but found no purchase. Like a movie in reverse, the opening grew thinner with every second, threatening to cut him in half.

He felt himself sliding into the Abyss and he closed his eyes, waiting for the deadly crush that was only seconds away. So he never saw the two pairs of hands that gripped his arms and pulled him free just as the crevice slammed closed. The resulting vibrations shook the church to its foundation. Two of the walls buckled and collapsed, sending the far side of the building crashing down in a pile of wood and plaster.

John looked up and saw Danni and Mitch kneeling over him.

“We have to get out of here,” Danni shouted.

He held out his hands and they helped him up. Bent low and holding their arms over their heads for protection, they ran through the falling debris and out the front doors.

Danni paused at the top of the steps and John gave her a push forward. “Keep going!”

Only when they were half a block from the church did he stop and let them look back.

Watching the church crumble reminded John of a skyscraper being demolished. The walls and roof collapsed inwards, the bell emitting one last discordant clang as the spire disappeared into the rising dust. But the destruction didn’t end. With a groan like a prehistoric animal’s death cry, the entire structure sank into the ground. The hole grew wider, swallowing the tall cement stairs. It continued growing, sucking down the dead lawn and the big white sign that read “Town Fair this Sunday!” Only when it reached the sidewalk did the crater finally stall.

At the same moment, the ground ceased shaking and the rain came to a sudden halt. As if finally emptied of all the evil stored in them, the unnatural cloud cover seeped away, leaving behind ordinary summer thunderheads. Sitting on the wet, muddy grass, Mitch looked over at John.

“Is it over?”

Still trying to catch his breath, John nodded.

“Did we win?”

John felt a smile crawl across his face. He reached out and put his arms around Mitch and Danni, drawing them into a hug as the clouds began breaking apart and sunlight fought to peek through.

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

John placed his battered suitcase on the sidewalk and fought to keep his tears inside. He’d already shed more than any man should have to, saying his private good-byes to Danni the night before. The past two weeks had been better than any John had experienced since losing his wife and son so many years before. He’d spent his days playing with Mitch and repairing the house, and his nights lying in bed with Danni, doing all the things he’d dreamed about since he’d met her.

By unspoken agreement, they’d rarely talked about what had happened. The entire town remained convinced there’d been a freak earthquake, culminating with the ground collapsing under the church. They blamed the same hole for releasing toxic gasses that had caused rampant hallucinations and violent behavior. The day after the fair, John had gone to the crater and looked around, but had found no sign of Christian or the grimoire. He’d told Danni it was his opinion the Ancient One had met up with Asuggath after all, although not in the fashion he’d expected.

“So then he’s dead?” Mitch had asked.

Unable to lie to them, John had shaken his head. “No, the Trickster cannot die. He’s an elemental being, eternal. Like it or not, we’ll never be rid of him. But, I think it’ll be a long, long time before he’s able to cause any mischief in our world again.” That had been his last words on the subject, and neither Mitch nor Danni had brought it up again.

But he’d known their being together couldn’t last, that eventually he’d have to return to the path Fate had placed him on so many years before. So two nights ago he’d told Danni he had to go. She’d taken it badly at first, but eventually she’d accepted it, telling him she’d known he couldn’t stay forever. That night, instead of making love they’d simply held each other until they fell asleep.

Now, saying his final good-byes at the bus station, John wished he’d had the strength to deny his destiny.

“I don’t understand. Don’t you want to stay with us?” Mitch wiped the back of his hand across his cheeks, his own tears flowing freely. Rather than looking sad, his face was clenched tight in teenage anger.

Kneeling down, John placed both hands on Mitch’s shoulders. “Mitch, if I could stay here, I would. There’s nothing I’d like better. I love you and your sister like you were...my own family.”

“Then why are you leaving?” Mitch refused to meet his eyes, so John placed one hand under the boy’s chin and tilted his face up so they were staring at each other.

“Because I don’t have a choice. My calling, my life’s work, is to help people like you and Danni, and all the people in all the towns like Hastings Mills. It’s what I do, and no one else can do it. Sometimes that makes me feel bad. It’s like a curse. But it also makes me feel good, because I think about all the people I help, and I know I’ve made the world a better place.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Looking into Mitch’s eyes, John made a decision. He’d had a family once, knew the only thing keeping him from starting another had been the fear that his life would put anyone he loved in too much danger.

But Mitch and Danni knew the danger.

And they still wanted him.

“Yes, you will.” At Danni’s startled gasp from above them, he turned and stared at her, letting her know he wasn’t lying to them. “You will. I promise.” Turning back to Mitch, he said, “Whenever I’m not involved in...in taking care of a problem, we’ll figure out a way for me to either visit you or for you and Danni to come visit me.”