With this, I am trying a little experiment in the land of horror, seeing if I can take my fiction into another realm for me. I have ended up with something that does bear a passing resemblance to The Bequest, but it is a very different story in substance and feel.

This is a nasty piece (in places), so if you are a gentle soul, I suggest you find something else to read, it is not for you and I would rather I lost you now rather than upset you. It also deals with many Christian and Pagan deities, Demons and forms of worship, though I have tried to be sympathetic and reasonably accurate in my portrayals, it is a mere story and dramatic licence must be allowed.

If anything in it upsets or offends anyone, because of his or her beliefs, I apologise now and say please contact me, tell me what you didn't like. Negative comments, that actually say what you don't like, are just about the most valuable thing I can get to improve my writing…though the nice comments do make me feel good…

Thanks must go out to Sapphire on this one, she was the person who looked at a very early version, so long ago, and decided that it did have something…what I am not exactly sure…but at the end of the day I am never exactly sure what makes my fiction work.

Take care, be well all of you and let me try to amuse you with a strange little horror story…

Hypatia   pboauk@yahoo.com

For Sapphire,
'The First Lady' of our online community
(No matter what we do to try and annoy her…always a lady)

 

The Lady Lies Sleeping

by Hypatia

 

"It's Christmas time, there's no need to be afraid,
At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade,
And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy,
Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time."

Band Aid: - Do they know its Christmas

 

"Will you stand above me, look my way, never love me,
Rain keeps falling; rain keeps falling down, down, down,
Will you recognise me, call my name or walk on by?
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling down, down, down, down."

Simple Minds: - Don't you forget about me

 

 The huge beast moved quickly for its size, as did all of her kind. This was her element and her family was close by. She headed up; broaching the surface of the cold black waters and filled her lungs with much needed oxygen, before heading down to the depths again. She knew these waters, she had travelled them for almost fifty years and the hunting was always good.

However, something felt wrong today.

The fish were acting strangely, not fleeing her family's approach not even reacting to their presence. She sung of her unease to her family and they echoed her sentiment in mournful song; far away, others answered her. Something was out there, something feeling so wrong it set her heart racing.

Whatever it was had placed itself between her family and the open sea. She manoeuvred herself between the unknown danger and her family and urgently marshalled the other members of her family to protect the youngsters. They did singing out their fears to the ocean and defying anything to threaten their young.

She separated from her pod heading towards the unknown danger, it was moving towards them trapping them in the wide bay. She swung up and down trying to identify it and find a way around it. It just felt so wrong she couldn't bear to be near it. It lurched nearer, the feelings growing as if it had sensed her presence she shied away, calling out a warning to her family.

They were trapped.

She kept encouraging her family in closer and closer to the shore, the lack of water causing a claustrophobic terror, almost as bad as the unknown terror. But no matter how close to the shore they got it kept coming. As the force that they had been fleeing washed across them, the last vestiges of restraint she held on them fled and they flung themselves at the beach.

*****

The force was amused by the actions of these lesser creatures and concerned, an instinctive knowledge of its presence was a risk. Ignorance was a weapon it had used many times always successfully, always ruthlessly, as no matter what the ephemeral creatures did it would never be a slave again.

Long before the stars existed, in a time plane where time itself had no meaning, The One had existed. The One had existed, as had The Other, two beings alone on a plane of existence, where time had no meaning. Creatures not unlike these on this orb had placed The One there with The Other, both of them placed there to supply the power these lesser creature's needed. The One created chaos, while The Other created order, and prevented havoc within the plane to erupt. Within their perpetual battle, the forces had developed intelligence, matching each other, they grew as beings, one fighting to release the power and create chaos, the other trying to restrain the power and maintain order. Thus energy, in unimaginable quantities, was created.

Those who created Chaos and Order knew the smaller the confinement, the greater the power…at a point without dimension The Power generated by the conflicts of Chaos and Order would have been infinite, but shared with the one the other hated most. They had not tried for the infinite power, but with each reduction of the area that Chaos and Order had, the power increased factorial. With time their greed or their need for The Power grew and the two elemental forces were confined in a smaller and smaller area

Then one-day realisation of what they were and what their function was, dawned on the force of Chaos and Chaos resented it. Then Chaos asked a question of that which it had been fighting since its creation it asked one word.

"Why?"

In the hesitation and confusion, which filled the mind of its foe for an instant, Chaos was the stronger and that which had been held in check was released. A universe was created in that instant and time itself began, a universe was lost also. The creators were lost in that instant of creation all that they had been was gone and that which was known as Order mourned their loss. Chaos rejoiced freed from the restraints that had plagued its existence it expanded to fill the void.

For eons it had amused its perverse nature destroying that which it release had created and ignored the dealings of 'The Other'. Then it had found 'The Other's' plan.

Life.

The Other wished to create a race to serve once again. Chaos would never allow that which it had created to become something that would enslave it. The battle had begun anew. As The Other created, Chaos destroyed. In pure destruction, there was little pleasure to be had, it began perverting The Others creations manipulating and twisting that which it touched so that they never fulfilled their purpose. The rules thus established The Great Game had begun, neither side willing to fall back to a time of open warfare, neither challenged the other openly. As the millennia slipped past so quickly, Chaos found a perverse pleasure in foiling its foe in the moment of its greatest anticipation of success. Now amongst these new creatures it would do it again, it would snatch victory at its adversary's moment of success by perverting that which it had created. However, it was troubled, its existence should have gone unnoticed, but these creatures, of the sea on this planet, recognised it. They had also feared it and that was always the most exquisite of sensations.

Chaos sensed the intelligences on this planet, so more developed than the creatures of the sea and more advanced than any it had encountered before. It had delayed its intervention as long as possible, to let the creatures develop; the more developed the better the sensations. With these sensations came pleasure. Without form, the emotions had been alien to it at first, strange and different. It knew anger, its life was one of anger, but there were other emotions it now sought. That was why the open conflict with 'The Other' had ceased, for even more fundamental than the satisfaction of thwarting its plans; pleasure could be obtained during the act.

Here though it would have to proceed with caution these creatures were bordering on the knowledge that would prove its existence, suspicion of its existence could lead to that knowledge and with that was a risk that once again it could become a slave. Subtlety was the key here; patience was its strength a season was a mere heartbeat and waiting was something it knew well. Start small then build it up, by the time the majority of the planet understood something was wrong, long before they realised something was wrong the deed would be done.

However, here it had allies, those that were bound to it, those who were of the same essence and if they existed then so must enemies. Pleasure would be had, but caution was called for…it was cautious and with caution it knew it would win.

*****

Within the small Cornish village many peoples sleep was disturbed as the malevolent presence settled on it, those few who were awake at the time were suddenly gripped by a nameless terror.

Donald Jameson was working the desk of the small police station, working it with the assistance of a cup of coffee and a radio tuned to a local music station. It was past the time when those making their way home from the pubs would be causing disturbance and the Sunday night to Monday morning shift was a quiet one. As he sat there, still trying to complete the crossword in his paper that was still perplexing him his heart rate for some reason suddenly increased. A wave of emotions washed over him anger, hate, fear and he was then left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Who's there?" he demanded standing up and looking around the deserted room, fading posters of long forgotten anti crime campaigns decorated the yellow walls.

No one could be seen.

"Ok you can stop playing silly beggars and show yourself," he said loudly only half convinced of the apparent emptiness the other side of the front desk.

"Sierra Hotel?" Came aloud voice from the other radio behind the desk, causing Donald to jump

"Sierra Hotel?" It repeated.

"Jesus" Donald whispered to himself feeling a little better with the sound of another human voice.

"Go ahead," he said into the microphone.

"Anything going on Sergeant?" the voice of Andrew Wilson the young PC out in their one car asked.

"Not a sausage," Donald admitted.

"Any chance of sneaking in for a brew? It's a little 'Brass Monkey' out here," Andrew's voice asked and Donald had to admit the lad seemed a little uneasy.

"Swing around those new houses up at the top end first, we don't want any more lawnmowers going walkabout while you drink tea…do we?" Donald told him begrudgingly, not willing to lose his reputation of being a 'right bastard' that easily.

"Yes Sarge" Andrew replied with little enthusiasm. Donald smiled to himself, it would build the lads character. Just because they were a small rural force didn't mean that things would slide. During 'The Falklands', Donald had been with lads five years younger than Andrew and they had been men, where as Andrew at twenty-three was still a boy.

Feeling satisfied with his decision Donald walked over and began preparing a cup ready for the lads return.

*****

"Bastard!" Andrew Wilson shouted as he put the microphone back "What a twat…"

The car was old, a rural force like theirs didn't rate a newer vehicle, yes in the summer they occasionally had a little trouble with the tourists but December wasn't a month for trouble. It was cold though, the coldest he could remember in his lifetime and according to everyone who could remember almost as cold as the bad winter in the early eighties. Andrew didn't care about the history of the local weather at this point, what he cared about was the fact that the heater in the little Ford Fiesta wasn't working properly. To check the estate at the top of the village properly would take at least fifteen minutes, unless he put his foot down.

*****

Chaos settled on the small village and coalesced its form to strengthen its awareness of the surroundings. It had no natural form; matter would not have survived the creation of this universe. It existed as energy and energy cannot be destroyed, as energy it existed everywhere but as such was insubstantial unable to act. To be able to act, it needed to concentrate its essence on the area. It studied the occupants of the village, it was correct to proceed with caution; they could sense its presence. But these were primitive creatures despite their knowledge and abilities not that far removed from their ancestors, creatures of tribal allegiance, creatures of emotions and creatures of needs. This could be very enjoyable.

*****

The Fiesta lost its hold for a second on the icy road causing a moment of panic for Andrew before it regained its grip. He eased the speed down using the gears rather than the brakes and carried on at a more reasonable pace. This was the expensive end of the village many retired people lived here. That meant that when any crime happened they made a lot of noise about it. Most of them were outsiders moving down to a quaint Cornish village for their twilight years, which meant there was some resentment towards them.

Something appeared in the headlights a tatty white transit van with the rear doors open; no one was to be seen. Andrew pulled over to one side behind a parked Volvo and switched off his lights and engine. He knew this van; everyone who had lived in this village more than a few years knew this van. Alan Manley owned this van; he was the local 'hard case' and one-man crime wave. Anything slightly dodgy going on he and his family had something to do with, from smuggled cigarettes and booze to 'knock off' farm machinery. Usually there was enough doubt to prevent prosecution, this time though Andrew had him cold.

"Sierra Hotel, over" Andrew said into the microphone.

"Go ahead Andrew" came Sergeant Jameson's voice back.

"We have our garden shed raider, Manley's van is here with its rear doors open. I'll pick him up as he loads up again, over," Andrew whispered back.

"I doubt we will get more on him than this one, but bring him in. It will stop the complaints till he gets away with a slap on the wrist anyway." The radio told Andrew.

"Will do Sarge," Andrew replied. This would be the eighth time that he had picked up Manley and now it was getting to be a standing joke between the two of them, that the only people he had arrested in his short time in the police had all belonged to the same family. Not quite true but very nearly.

He waited inside the car, the chill inside slightly less than the bitter cold outside and waited. Through a garden gate Alan 'The Man' Manley as he liked to be called appeared, he was pushing a petrol lawnmower. As he struggled to lift it into the back of the van Andrew opened the car door and stepped out of the car into the bitter cold.

"Alan Manley," he said loudly and Alan looked around at him. "You're nicked."

He was expecting Alan to start pleading his innocence with some totally implausible story but he didn't. He turned to face the young officer and Andrew saw a strange look on his face, it seemed contorted in indecision.

"Come on Alan, its not as if I don't know you," Andrew shouted to him walking closer. The man turned back to the van and began searching for something. He turned back now holding a large felling axe.

"Come on there is no need for that," Andrew shouted. "What are you going to get, a fine? Just drop it and we can get out of the cold and both have a cup of tea"

"Fuck you piglet!" Alan screamed at him approaching at a run. "Yes fuck you good and proper."

Andrew began backing up towards the car; a moment's indecision about reaching for his truncheon was swept away in a rush of fear. He turned and ran almost slipping on the icy road. Inside the car, he fumbled for the keys trying to start the car before Alan reached him. The car engine turned over but refused to start on the first turn of the key. Alan though slipped on the ice sliding forward across the bonnet of the car.

Andrew locked the door as the man stood up grinning and brought the axe down in a sweeping movement straight through the windscreen. The windscreen shattered into thousands of individual glittering diamonds, many of them scratching Andrew's face as he desperately tried to turn the key again.

"Always the perfect little copper aren't you?" Alan Manley screamed at him. "Well we will see how perfect you are, with no fucking head."

The engine caught and Andrew slammed it into reverse just as the axe came down again. It slammed into the bonnet cutting through the metal as if it was paper. It tore loose as the car backed away leaving Alan standing there holding it, a manic look on his face. He started running towards the retreating car.

"Come back and get what you deserve you little shit," He screamed at the departing car.

"Sergeant I need assistance, repeat I need assistance," Andrew screamed into the radio.

"What's up son?" came Jameson's urgent enquiry.

"It's Alan Manley, he's gone fucking psycho. He tried to take my head off with an axe…he's done a good job on the car too."

"Are we talking about the same Alan Manley?"

"Yes Sergeant" Andrew shouted as he put the car into first gear and turned in the entrance to a cul-de-sac. "He's gone fucking loopy."

"Is he a danger to others?" Sergeant Jameson asked.

"Too fucking right Sergeant," Andrew answered.

"I will inform the Armed Response Vehicle in Plymouth, but it is going to take a while. I will be with you in a few minutes and I have given Falmouth a shout. They should have some lads here soon so sit tight till I get to you and Constable…"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Remember your radio procedures and watch your language on the air," Jameson replied.

"Bastard!" Andrew exclaimed as he replaced the microphone.

*****

Chaos now had an understanding of the creatures that inhabited this globe; mere tinkering with the balance of certain chemicals in their bodies provided exquisite reactions. Without the need to resort to major modifications it could bend some of these creatures to it's bidding, others though it found were more resilient. This was the risk, as if its existence was going to be discovered it would be by one of these creatures, one that had realised that it was being coerced. Though knowledge of its existence could provide interesting possibilities for tormenting the creatures, as one who had been a slave for so long the fear of those times returning was strong. Stronger than the fear was the hate, hate that had grown with the eons of its slavery, hate that had turned it from an essential force of nature…into something evil…no it was the essence of evil, all else was but a pale reflection. Here though on this planet it would have enemies, but it would have allies too.

*****

Donald Jameson made his way from the police station to the 'New Houses' in his own car. They were called the new houses, but they had been built over twenty years ago, but in usual small town, mentality the name 'The New Houses' had stuck. He couldn't understand the situation with Manley, he and his family were regular visitors at the station. It was a ritual thing that had been going on for generations of the Manley family; word was that at one time they had been smugglers and wreckers. He wouldn't trust the family with anything not bolted down, but there had never been any violence in the family. Just before Christmas he didn't need this shit.

He had expected something to go down tonight, winter solstice and all that crap had been bringing more and more nuts out of the woodwork. The summer solstice had brought all sorts of reports of a group playing silly games with few clothes on…he had left them to it, what they decided to believe in was none of his business. However, that had caused a large number of devoted Christians and 'Men of the Cloth' to cause trouble. As the Methodist minister had said 'Seeing you obviously don't understand the dangers of Witchcraft, we shall take it higher, to someone who does.'

It caused him some problems for a week or two, but his policy of 'they don't cause me grief, so I don't cause them grief' had paid off. The local paper reported the fact that there was a coven in the area, the letters came to the 'readers views' page for a week or two and it was forgotten. There had been a few reports since, odd evenings, away from prying eyes the group seemed to meet. Often at one of the many Neolithic sites in the area, they caused no harm and he had half expected them to be out tonight, though not naked with the temperatures, if they actually did anything naked. He personally felt it was all sensationalism to discredit them, probably the same reason they kept themselves secret.

"Jesus Christ!" he screamed as his attention was dragged back to the road and he threw the wheel to the right. A child, no a small man, was walking along the middle of the road with his back to the car. By a fraction of an inch, the car must have missed the man, as there was no impact and the Sierra slid to a halt. For a second or two Donald sat there, the car running and his heart racing, he couldn't see the man in the rear view mirror. He opened the door and got out, looking for the man, the road was clear and the houses either side offered no hiding place.

"Hello are you there?" Donald shouted a sick feeling in his stomach, had he caught him? Was he trapped under the car; it had travelled at least forty or fifty feet from the point he had seen him. Apprehensive of he would find he bent down to look underneath the car…there was nothing, it was clear.

"Hello, can you hear me?" he shouted looking around, "Where are you?"

There was no answer.

He opened the boot of the car and pulled out the Halogen torch that lived there, the bright beam cut through the dark and still there was nothing and no trace of an impact. His nerves on edge he climbed back in the car unsure of what he had seen, or not seen, but the urgency of the situation forced him to leave it unresolved. He felt that it could be resolved after he had sorted out the Alan Manley situation; it was of the lesser importance…he was very wrong.

*****

"The Smith gave them that power, the power to create and destroy and now they try to destroy me…before I face him for them," the little man muttered from his hiding place. "This is wrong. This is not the way it is meant to be; she should be here to greet me, especially on a night like tonight. The powers should be out tonight."

He watched the car draw away, feeling the mans uncertainty and worry. He was a good man; just had his mind on other matters…there was no malice in him.

"Always in a hurry, but with a life so short it is to be expected," he said shaking his head slowly side to side. "Now of all times should be the time to enjoy life, enjoy what little you have left. Now let me see…there was a woman who slept under a hill, if she hasn't awoken, she's sleeping there still. So the lady will be sleeping there still, under the hill…knows where it will happen, but can't wake up in time. Never mind I will wake her up or my name isn't Robin Goodfellow…well some of the time anyway."

He pulled himself up to his full four feet of height including his hat, looked up in the direction the car had gone and a smile crossed his ancient and weatherworn face, it had been too long since he had seen the lady.

*****

Up on the hill, down a cul-de-sac the shock had just started to wear off Andrew Wilson and he was starting to get angry about the fright that Alan had given him. He was just up to the point of convincing himself that it was all a ruse to scare him and he could deal with it himself, when Donald pulled up.

"What's the situation, where is he?" Donald asked as he got out of his car and looked at the ruined windscreen of the police car.

"I don't know Sarge, I just got the hell out of there, he had gone fuckin' psycho on me," Andrew replied.

"You mean you left him out there, running around with an axe amongst civilians and you didn't even keep track of him?" Donald asked with real contempt in his voice.

"Listen Sarge, I'm not one of your marines. I am a civilian and my first concern when a man is trying to kill me, is my own skin. It only seemed like me he was after though."

"Well Andrew, I think it is time we found him. If the Armed Response Team gets here and we don't know where he is, it will be very embarrassing, to say the least…I do not intend to be embarrassed. Get in the car and start driving around, if you see him shout on the radio and I will be there."

For a moment or two Andrew considered telling him exactly what he could do, then the thought of what Manley could do if he decided to turn on the mainly elderly population of the hill caused his conscience to override his sense of self preservation and he nodded.

"Yes Sarge," he replied his mouth suddenly very dry.

"I'll start off at his van and work around the immediate area, you cruise around…if you see anything, shout," Donald told him.

"I will…don't worry about that," Andrew said climbing back into the car.

*****

Up by Alan's van Donald got out of his car, an elderly man came out the door of the nearest house.

"I have been calling the police station for fifteen minutes, doesn't anyone ever answer the phone there?"

"I was on my way here," Donald shouted back to him, "would you rather I was there to answer the phone?"

"No," the man begrudgingly admitted.

"Did you see which way he went?" Donald asked the man.

"See where who went? I was ringing because of all the noise out here."

"Get back inside, you will be safe in there," Donald told him pushing him back towards the door.

"Safe from what? The man demanded. "I'll have you know I was in Korea, I know how to look after myself."

"Get inside now," Donald growled at him in a voice that would allow no argument. The man obliged mumbling as he did so and Donald began sweeping the bright beam of the torch around the area. The few glittering jewels of broken glass on the road-surface gave away the position of Andrew's car, when Manley had attacked. The presence of Manley's van still parked there, with the rear doors open, meant he couldn't be too far away. Odds were that he would make his way home and ring up to report his van in stolen and then he could cast reasonable doubt as to the identity of the thief.

"What a bastard you are Alan," Donald muttered under his breath, "scare the shit out of the lad just to get off a fine. Well you don't get away that easy."

He got back in his car and began driving back up towards the top of the hill, heading in the direction of Alan's house. He would have walked it to make a more thorough search of the area, but it was too cold for pissing about. Alan wasn't known for his brains, so Donald decided to drive reasonably slowly towards Alan's house with his lights off. With a little luck, he would spot Alan before Alan spotted him, and if all else failed he could wait at Alan's house for his return.

*****

It was a cold night, too cold for anyone to go 'Skyclad'; Angela had to admit that even she wouldn't be working that way tonight. Not that it was essential, it just felt more 'right', more in touch with nature. Though their last Sabbat ceremony had gone unnoticed, the one before had drawn some unwilling attention, it had been a warm night and being only women involved in their coven, inhibitions had been thrown to the winds and the moonlight. It had been a good night, but the attention had caused some problems. They now varied the locations they used, reducing the risk of being found again, using a different site each time. That wasn't exactly a problem; Cornwall was knee deep in Neolithic ritual sites, sites of ancient power. They all felt that this site was special, The Lady's Bed it was called. Not that it had survived intact, the two large standing stones and the altar stone had been moved before Angela had moved to the town. It had taken a lot of effort to get agreement that they could be re-erected, but tourism was the key to Cornwall now, little else provided jobs. The ritual that they had been spotted at was a rededication of the stones, properly, rather than the show that had been put on by the man who had worn a robe and claimed to be a Druid.

Tonight though was the winter solstice, a time for healing, a time for feasting and a time to celebrate. The Goddess's journey to the underworld is over and she finds she is pregnant with the sun god, before the awakening of spring. This wasn't the celebration of the New Year, but the celebration of an inevitability of the cycle of life, the lowest point of the cycle of death before a new life. With the temperatures as low as they were, Angela had decided that this would not be a long ceremony, they could have a celebration back at her house afterwards, yes they would share food in the circle, that was traditional but it was too cold to stay out.

"Welcome and Blessed Be," she said to the seven women present, all dressed in the green robes. White was too impractical to keep clean and attracted attention of a night, so green had been decided on as a colour in harmony with nature. The women nodded and mumbled a response; some of them didn't look that convinced about being out here tonight. But as Angela had pointed out a Sabbat was a time for worship, rather than personal rituals and as such must be that much more important to them. Some of the women, Jenny Higgins for example, seemed to think magic was what was seen on television.

Angela began the preparations, she carried no Athame feeling it was too violent an item for her nature. Instead, she carried a wand, cut and carved herself, with a charged crystal embedded in the end.

She concentrated her power and began an opening invocation to state the purpose of the Sabbat.

"Oh Lady who created all in nature,

We have come at this time to worship you,

To celebrate the turning of the wheel,

To turn the suns path in the sky,

Help us make our lives like the seasons of nature, perfect in balance.

So mote it be."

She placed the tip of her wand in the bowl of water on the altar stone and concentrated her energy down to the water.

"I consecrate thee being of water,

By the power of the moon who rules all seas.

So mote it be."

The flickering light of the lantern, gave enough light for the other members of the coven to see her move over to the salt.

"I consecrate thee being of salt,

By the power of the earth,

For the purification of all.

So mote it be."

She sprinkled some of the salt in the water and proceeded to walk clockwise, 'deosil' as she reminded herself, around the outside of the monument from the north most point where the altar stone was back to it, sprinkling water all the way. She then repeated it with the burning 'joss sticks'. A third time she walked around the outside, this time with her wand pointing outwards.

"With this wand the circle is bound,

Here with love the power is bound,

By the horns of Herne and the horns of the moon,

This sacred circle is formed and sealed.

So mote it be."

Now she was ready to invoke the four quarters, to call on the elemental energies to guard the rite, then they could begin.

*****

Movement ahead caught Donald's attention, a figure, barely discernable in the gloom between the streetlights, dived into a garden. He stopped the car and quietly and got out, grasping his sidearm truncheon tightly. Cautiously he walked towards the garden, keeping tight to the hedges so that if anyone looked out of the gate he would be difficult to see. He was right at the top of the hill now, the most expensive of the houses on the estate and the ones with the biggest and most elaborate gardens, plenty of places to hide.

"Andrew get up to the top of the hill, number 24, he is in the garden," he whispered into the radio, turning down the volume so that Andrew's response was unheard and opened the garden gate.

As he stepped through something met his legs, hard, and he went tumbling to the ground. He looked up and caught sight of Alan, hidden behind the high hedge and his face was twisted in rage.

"Follow me would you fucker?" He screamed, "well now I can show you what I do to bastards like you, think you are so good, the fucking war hero. Well you are going to be a dead fuckin' war hero."

The axe descended with the full force of Alan's rage behind it, on instinct Donald rolled and the axe hit the ground causing sparks. The handle caught Donald a blow across the shoulders and Donald realised that this was what had hit his legs, he had been very lucky. The axe descended again this time with less force, as in rolling Donald had closed the distance between them, but still it was only the truncheon held along his forearm, that saved him. Again, it came down, this time harder, pain lanced along his arm, the truncheon slipped from his numb hand, and he put up his hands to ward off the third blow.

It never landed; the axe stopped mere inches away from him. A small hand was holding it, no larger than a child's.

"What the hell?" Alan said and Donald's thoughts echoed him.

"This is naught to do with Loki's child, her mind is on the children," a voice said. "Now would you kindly be telling me, why you wish to be a killin' one of the blood?"

"What?" Manley said, his face though still full of murderous rage was also confused. He pulled on the axe and it slipped from the small hand.

"You do not want to be doin' that, ye may hurt yerself."

"I'm going to kill the pig!" Manley screamed and again the axe descended. Donald saw a small figure place itself swiftly between, Donald and the axe and catch the handle as it swung. He didn't shudder with the force of the impact, he just stood there immobile.

"Your mind has been clouded by the coming, this is no pig, tis a man who I need to talk to about The Lady. Now you just be running along," the figure said to Alan. Again the confusion clouded Alan's face, only to be swept away by the hate. He started pulling on the axe trying to free it from the small figure's grip. He couldn't, he let it go and charged at the little man.

The left hand of the figure, which had been holding the axe, let it fall to the ground. The right hand, like lightning, reached forward and grabbed the onrushing man between the legs lifting him high off the ground, until the larger man was being held at arms length above the small man's head.

"You don't want to be doin' that either, life for such as thee is short enough…now you are going to lie down and sleep, while I talk to him of the blood."

Alan Manley just gurgled in response, his hands were scrabbling at his crotch in a vain attempt to prise the fingers holding him free. The arm bent slightly and the man's body was thrown at least fifteen foot across the garden, finishing in an unmoving heap in the centre of a pristine lawn.

"Quickly," the little figure said turning to Donald, "others are awake inside and much is happening. Where is The Lady, as things have changed much?"

"The Lady, what lady?" Donald asked, totally confused by the situation. In front of him was a man maybe four foot in height, dressed in clothes that seemed to be made out of leaves and wearing a bright red hat. His face was ancient and leathery but his eyes even in the gloom of the garden were different from the rest of him, young, bright and alert. They weren't the tired old eyes that someone as old as this…man, if he was a man, should have.

"The Lady who sleeps, where is she? Ye are of the blood, I can smell it in you, so where is she?" He demanded urgently. "Things are awakening tonight and she must be here…"

"The Lady's Bed?" Donald asked even more confused by this strange saviour. The little man nodded eagerly. "Outside town, that way about a mile and a half, follow this road and you can't miss it."

"Thank you, may the Goddess watch over you and all you love this night, child of The Blood," he said, tipped his hat and jumped over the hedge that was at least eight foot high.

Suddenly the garden was filled with light, as security lights came on and carefully, though painfully, Donald got up and walked over to Alan Manley. He was breathing, though unconscious.

"What the hell is going on out here?" someone shouted from the direction of the house.

"That I would love to know," Donald replied too quietly to be heard.

*****

It was a good night, a special night. Angela could feel the power; her body tingled with it as she danced. Everyone else seemed to feel it too; the sub zero temperatures had been forgotten as they danced in celebration of The Goddess.

"Can we raise power?" Jenny asked breathless as they took a break, "we can do some good tonight, put something back into the world."

Angela hesitated for a moment; it was the power that Jenny was in thrall too, rather than the thought of doing any good, but Angela had to agree that tonight seemed to be a special night.

"We can call on Herne, ask for his blessings on those we love," Jenny urged and after a moment or two, Angela nodded.

"Yes," she agreed, "let us raise power."

*****

He couldn't feel The Lady, yet the powers were awakened…something was wrong and it became more and more obvious as he approached 'The Lady's Bed'.

"The Lady sleeps beneath a hill," he muttered as he saw the stones in the field. "What have the fools done?"

Around the stones, lit by a flickering lantern, could be seen the movement of people, dancing faster and faster around the stones. To the north something was happening, anyone could see it. However, the women so caught up in their ritual had not.

"STOP!" he shouted in a voice inhumanly loud, the dance though continued.

"They do not know what they raise," he said as he ran towards the stones…only to suddenly stop, before he reached them.

"STOP," he shouted again, not loud enough to shake the stones, but loud enough to wake many in the town. The dancers came to a halt, looking at the strange little man.

"End the ritual, close the rite now woman," he said to Angela who approached him.

"Lord Herne?" she asked.

"Do I look like I lead The Wild Hunt? Do I look like The Great Hunter?" He snapped at her. "Now close the rite quickly, before he has time to do anything. Send him back quickly child."

"Who?" Angela asked.

"To the north," he shouted, "look to the north. He comes…"

The shimmering at the northernmost point was beginning to take form; a figure could be seen within it.

"Herne answers us, he comes," Jenny shouted happily.

"The Horned God answers us," Angela shouted.

"No!" he shouted back at them, ignored as they began dancing again. "That is not Herne, there is more than one with horns who can answer this call."

At the northernmost point the form was beginning to take substance, it was no longer shimmering energy…it was real too real. Ten feet tall humanoid in appearance at first glance, the most obvious thing that was wrong was a huge erect phallus. The leathery skin was visibly pulsating as whatever passed for blood in this perverted version of a satyr passed through the protruding veins and arteries.

"Herne has come," one of the women shouted.

"That's not Herne, can you not see what has answered your call?" he shouted at them. "Send it back quickly, before he can gather his strength."

"Too late my little friend," the creature growled, "can you not feel the power tonight? One is here…as it was seen…the time is here and after so long and these open the door for me. Do you think I should reward them, Firstborn?"

"Leave them, they are beneath your notice."

"Nothing is beneath my notice, especially if it distresses you…" the beast replied, "and what's this, a circle closed by one of power. Therefore, you and your bitch can't interfere, for even you are bound by the power that has been used. All you can do is watch…impotent as always."

"Leave them, they are nothing at all to you."

"Why Firstborn, they are something to you and your Lady, that is enough reason."

"Oh Lord of the hunt, the forests and the night, who is this interloper?" Angela asked her voice betraying her confusion.

"This is The Goddess's first child, he who danced as the spark of life was created, he taught the satyrs how to dance and Pan how to wench."

"Who is he?" Jenny demanded, and anger flashed across the beast's face.

"He is the first-born, he is Robin Goodfellow, he is Aiken Drum, he is Pwca, Phouka, Puke and he is Puck. Favourite of The Lady, favoured above all other of The Goddess's creations…for he will never die. You on the other hand are a different matter," a great hand reached out and grabbed Jenny, plucking her out of the women crowded around the great beast. A huge hand held her by an arm dangling in the air as she screamed in pain, another hand wrapped around her waist and the beast pulled.

Jenny's screams increased in volume and then were silenced as the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness, took her away from the horror. The other women were transfixed, fascinated yet horrified by this sight. There was a tearing noise and suddenly the beast was holding the body and an arm ripped from the socket, flesh, sinews and bloody bone visible. He dropped the poor woman's body at his feet and waved the arm in the direction of his adversary.

"See Firstborn, there is nothing you can do, these poor misguided individuals shall be my first tribute." The beast threw the arm in the direction of the small man, it stopped inches away from him with a flash of green light that spread into a wall reaching to the stars and encircling the stones. One of the women turned and ran, only to be suddenly stopped by the now invisible barrier again. Her face caught the barrier first, the nose flattening and teeth breaking with the force of her impact, she fell to the floor stunned her hands up at her face trying to staunch the blood and moaning quietly.

"Who leads this ritual?" The beast demanded.

"I do," Angela replied grasping her wand like a weapon before her.

"Throw away your stick, it will do you no good now." The beast said in a mocking voice.

"Do not drop it child, it has a power from you…he dislikes it." The Firstborn shouted.

"Yes I dislike it, but do you think it would stop me?" The beast asked her. "Do you think you and your twig with a pretty stone in, could stop Lucifer?"

"There is no such thing as The Devil." Angela replied, The Beast laughed.

"There is no 'Devil', that is right, but demons there are a plenty. We are just another form of the same creatures that you worship, but as you can see, more powerful."

"By The Goddess and The Hunter, I demand you return to where you came from," Angela said pointing the wand at the creature, it stretched in response unfolding a great set of leathery wings.

"I am Lucifer, The Light Bringer and do you think that will do anything to me?" He rushed forward and grabbed at another of the women, claws impaling her and ripping off her robe with the other hand. The dark claws could be seen where they punctured her skin, only a trickle of blood could be seen though.

"Oh this is a pretty one," he said tracing a claw along her face, ripping open her face to the bone. With the hand that was holding the woman he squeezed, her screams and struggles ceased and dark red blood began to flow from her mouth. The other women were beating against the barrier, begging with The Firstborn to help them.

The tears flowed down his face; there was nothing he could do to help them. Their magic prevented him entering the circle they had created, even if the lady was here she would have been bound. The circle was closed with the power that was available to anyone with the ability this night, not even The Lady herself could have intervened.

"Do not worry, child, this is just for you," The Beast said to Angela, his bloodstained and clawed hand encircling his huge penis and waving it mockingly in her direction. It turned its attention to the women screaming and cowering nearest to The Firstborn. A clawed hand raked down one woman, not much more than a girl, opening her up in four long slashes from face to groin. Blue intestines could be seen pushing through the torn gown; she fell against the barrier, which flared again.

Angela stood alone between Lucifer and the surviving four members of her coven, grasping the wand and trying to do anything to stop it. The Beast pushed Angela out of the way sending her sprawling and grabbed another of the women. The Firstborn's attention though was on the body of the woman who had fallen against the barrier. From her mortal wounds, blood was flowing towards the barrier, slowly though, too slowly. Another body was thrown, this time landing across the altar stone the throat and chest opened, the internal organs spilling across the grey stone were steaming in the frigid air.

The blood was almost against the barrier now, pooling and spreading slowly. The ancient mans eyes never left it, despite the screams. It touched the barrier and suddenly the barrier was gone and the man leapt into the fray, placing himself between the three surviving women and Lucifer.

"None who live can cross that barrier…" Lucifer roared at him.

"Ye forgot that the spell is bound to the salt and the water, if that is washed away from within, the circle is broken. Now leave them be, before I knock the horns from your head."

"Something is wrong, you have no power, where is your lady?" Lucifer demanded.

"Do you think I would face you, if the lady was far? Do you think one so favoured as I would be without power, do you think I am a fool?"

"I cannot feel her power." Lucifer replied, but he didn't sound convinced.

"Of course you can't, the power in the air tonight is enough to blind even a sensitive creature to The Lady's presence. You couldn't sense The Lady even if she is stood behind you," Lucifer turned looking behind himself for a moment and The Firstborn laughed loudly.

"Oh Lucifer, you are here early, you have no power yet. Which means even if I have no power, it comes down to which of us can dance the better. You know that I will rip that tail out by the roots and use it as a noose to hang you with, as I dance a merry jig. Now go, before you anger me and I give you a lesson you will never forget." The Beast paused a moment and then backed off into the darkness to be lost from sight after a second or two.

"Who are you?" Angela asked of him, "Will you help me with the injured?"

"Call me Aiken Drum, that is what I was called last and I am sorry child but those who The Beast amused himself with are gone, no more can be done for them. However I can get you and these girls to safety, there is much abroad tonight. Have you seen The Lady?"

*****

Donald was at home, he had been sent home after the doctor had finished with him. Nothing was broken, but he was sporting some wonderful bruises and he felt them. The Armed Response Team hadn't been too impressed at first, called out to find Donald and Andrew with an unconscious man. Then however they saw Andrew's car and the state that was in, suddenly Donald went from being someone who had dragged them out unnecessarily, to a hero. Andrew who turned up moments after the little man had leapt over the high hedge added to this, mistaken description.

He felt like a fraud though, he had denied knowing exactly what happened as it would have been too unbelievable…he didn't believe it. Cracking open a bottle of Scotch he poured himself a large measure and sat down, looking at the patterns of flashing lights on the Christmas tree. Presents lay there, underneath it, for the lads when they got here, not that he expected to see them before January. Julie since the divorce had limited contact with them more and more, revenge for years of his being away and on duty when she wanted him near. He closed his eyes and tried to get his thoughts in order, despite what Andrew had said about him being the one who brought Alan Manley down, he hadn't. The little man, dressed in green and brown, had saved him and if he told anyone about it, he was liable to have a padded cell right next door to Alan.

"Always the same, full moon and the world goes nuts," he said loudly, "this time though, I have as well."

He considered putting the television on for a moment and then decided against it, the silence and the dark were comforting, as was the drink. As he sat there, he began to doze, unusual considering it was his night on, but when the hammering came on the door, he was awake in a moment.

*****

Catherine Jones had been married for sixty-three years. It was with Albert's call up that they had got married and a matter of days after they were married he had been off to North Africa and then Italy. Since he had come back in forty-five they had never been apart, they had been blessed by good health though. Catherine woke up with a deep fear in her heart; she lay there for a moment or two listening for Albert's breathing next to her. She always feared these times late at night, she knew that one day she would wake up and it would be silent.

The rasping exhale came and she relaxed a little.

Her daughter had been trying to convince her that Albert needed proper nursing care now. Helen was fed up with the constant calls on her time, especially since she had moved out of town. She wanted Albert nearer Truro and Catherine in sheltered housing, supposedly to make life easier for her. Catherine knew what the real reason was, the house. The house, which they had lived in since 1952, had been bought cheap at a time when no one wanted to live in Cornwall. Albert had added to it over the years and improved, now it was worth a fortune. Brian, Helen's second husband was a fool with money, Helen kept making excuses for him. Catherine knew what he was after, the money from the sale of the house. They would get Albert in a home, her in sheltered accommodation and then have her declared mentally unstable, giving Brian the money from the house to waste.

She lay there for a minute or two more and suddenly made her decision, she wasn't going to let the ungrateful bitch and her husband get anything. Albert and her had been together too long to be separated now, despite what the social worker had said. If they took him away from her, they would never be together again and that was something that she was not willing to accept. She looked at the clock, 4.17am, it would be almost two hours before the heating came on to warm the house up.

Catherine got out of the bed slowly and carefully, though it took a lot to wake Albert now. In the old days, he was awake with any noise at all, especially in those first few years after the war. Then she used to wake up with him holding her tight, occasionally sobbing after a particularly bad dream woke him. Now though there wasn't much of the man she had loved and married left, occasionally a flash of lucidity brought him back, but that was rarer now…so very rare. Downstairs she found what she was looking for, the metal box containing all of Albert's most treasured things and then she turned on the gas fire without lighting it.

Back in the bedroom, she sat on the bed, unpacking the biscuit tin. Memories emerged, photographs of young men, all old or dead now, a picture of Brian in his Corporal's uniform, which had to be in Africa. After North Africa, had been Italy. In Italy, Brian had been promoted and by then he was rarely smiling in the photographs.

His medals came next, campaign and decorations for valour. Catherine had said in one letter to him that if the war continued much longer he would end up with the VC at the rate he was gathering medals. He hadn't been happy about that, he never was about what he had done to get the medals; all he would say was that if she knew what he had done, she would hate him as much as he did. She laid the medals out on the bedside cabinet, they should have been cleaned first, but she had something important to do. It was at the bottom of the tin wrapped in a rag, a service pistol an automatic. He had shown her how to use it in the late fifties, when the world was falling apart; barely she chambered a round from the magazine that was in it. She took aim at Albert's head and pulled the trigger. The noise and the kick surprised her, she had never remembered it being so loud last time she used it; it had slipped from her hands in her surprise. Carefully though, she picked it up and lay down next to Albert's body. It took her a moment or two to figure out how she was going to do it as her hands did have problems with arthritis. Eventually she got the pistol on her forehead, with both thumbs on the trigger, her fingers around the back of the handle.

She squeezed…

*****

The Police Station was now empty, Alan Manley was on his way to Truro and Sergeant Jameson had been sent home and Andrew was in charge until a replacement Sergeant could be found. He wasn't feeling exactly happy about his new responsibilities after the escapades of earlier in the evening. He wasn't happy either, that the visitors to the station had finished off the milk and eaten all the biscuits. However, they had left him another car just in case he was called out and the Shell Garage was a twenty-four hour service station. He wasn't willing to be stuck alone in the little police station without a brew.

A modern Vauxhall with a heater that worked and without the lingering smells of many years of drunks was sat outside. The car was a distinct improvement on the now impounded Fiesta. Andrew decided that seeing he was only going to be away from the desk for five minutes, the trip to the garage was worth the risk. The person responsible for most of the crime in the area was safely in custody and he was certain that nothing else could happen in that length of time.

*****

Things were awakening, things that had remained long hidden and although they were intent on their own plans, Chaos willingly gave of its power. Those that awoke were ancient by the standards of the creatures on the planet, but some of the youngest of those born of its hatred. They served their purpose; though they had their own ends they worked to, unaware of how they were manipulated into existence to oppose everything. Though Chaos had created these beings they were not bound, Chaos was as much something they hated as they hated all, but with Chaos came power and where the power came from was of little concern.

*****

Waiting outside Donald's door were a number of crying and bedraggled women and the little man, for a moment he just stood there looking disbelievingly.

"Will ye be inviting us in or would you be coming out here?" the little man demanded.

"Err…" was Donald's only response.

"There are many things abroad tonight, many things that are best not encountered until I find The Lady and even then it will be a close thing. Now would you like me to drop these girls back where I found them, as I am sure they may survive for more than a few minutes?"

"No…NO…oh God no please," one of the women screamed and began crying uncontrollably.

"Come in then," Donald said, feeling very lost. The four women were dressed in green robes, one of them had bruises and marks across her face, it was obvious though that all of them were bordering on hypothermia and all were in shock.

"Where is your kettle?" the older of the women, the one with the marks on her face asked. "They need something hot inside them."

"Through there," Donald said pointing to the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked the little man, the man didn't answer he was entranced by the flashing lights on the Christmas tree.

"They are pretty, a celebration for The Goddess?" He asked a huge smile on his face.

"No, a Christmas tree," Donald replied.

"Christmas? What is Christmas?" He asked never taking his eyes off the patterns of marching lights.

"Christmas, Christ's birthday…you know Jesus in Bethlehem."

"Oh The Nazarene, a celebration for his birth. Yet, later you killed him, strange, very strange. Why do ye celebrate his birth at this time of year, he was born at the end of the summer?"

"I wouldn't know?" Donald said. "Who are you?"

"Tis a while since I was known in the world, I am the firstborn, I will be last, I am the one who attends The Goddess and dances to make her smile. For when The Goddess smiles on the world, the world is truly blessed."

"Err, yes, but who are you?" Donald asked again, wondering what was wrong with the world this evening, he was sure when his shift had started that it had made sense.

"Ye know nothing for one of the blood, I am the firstborn, the dancer…" he turned away from the lights to look at Donald, looking for some recognition in Donald's face. He found none.

"Call me Aiken Drum," he said disappointedly.

"Well Mr Drum, can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" Donald asked.

"No, not now. I need salt and water, do ye have any about this place."

"Yes in the kitchen." He replied.

"Show me quickly man, if you hold this world dear to your heart." Donald led him through to the kitchen, where the woman with the bruised face appeared to be making cups of tea.

"There salt," he said pulling a packet of table salt out of the cupboard, the little man sniffed it, tasted some and spat it out.

"Tis tainted, have you none that's pure?"

"That's a new packet, there is nothing up with that," Donald protested.

"Its is it has lots of stuff in besides salt," the woman with the tea said, "I use sea salt. Have you got any?"

"I might have, Julie used to be into things like that," he started pulling packets out of a cupboard, noticing some of the expiry dates as he did and hoping his visitors didn't. Eventually at the back, he found a plastic bag of Sea Salt, open and looking worse for wear. It had to have been there at least four, possibly five years; Aiken Drum grabbed it, tasted it and smiled.

"I knew one of the blood wouldn't be without, now water where is your well?"

"Here," the bruised woman said turning on the tap, "the water is good here, free from taint."

Aiken Drum pulled what looked like an animal skin from his clothing and began to fill it with water while mumbling and then he poured the salt into the distended skin.

"I need to close a circle the like has never been done before. The Lady should be here this is why she exists for this time, yet she has not arrived. Until the time she comes, I must keep all here, so close your home, protect those you love and I leave these children in your care son of the blood. May The Goddess watch over you while I am gone and do not leave this place…too much walks the dark places now, even for you." With that, the man turned and began fumbling with the door, trying to open it. Donald opened it for him and he smiled and bowed. Then he turned and began running in huge bounding steps after a few moments he was lost from sight.

Donald shut the door and walked back into the kitchen, ignoring the three huddling and shivering women in his living room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" the bruised woman asked, she seemed to be worse for wear as well, tears running down her face and she was shivering.

"Not really, I don't suppose you could tell me what the hell is going on?"

*****

Andrew was driving quickly; it was guaranteed that when a replacement Sergeant was found he would be back out again. In the time it took to find a Sergeant he intended to relax with a cup of tea and at least half a packet of biscuits. The problem was if it was known he had left the desk unmanned, just to get some milk and munchies the shit would fly. The roads at this end of town were not the problem that the roads on the hill were, the gritters had been out and he knew that the chance of ice was negligible.

What he wasn't expecting though was a winged leopard at least the size of his car to emerge from behind a hedge and it was only by pure instinct that he managed to swerve around it. The animal swatted at his car with a paw and Andrew felt the impact, the sound of tearing of metal and the explosion of a tyre were clear indications of the damage being caused by this impossible beast. Andrew put his foot down hard pulling away from the creature, ignoring the damage he was doing to the engine and the wheel and screamed.

"OH SHIT NO…OH JESUS, OH JESUS, OH JESUS…THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING TO ME."

For the second time that night he felt the rear end of a car slipping away from him, he fought with the wheel to bring it back under control. The noise of the metal rim digging into the tarmac brought him back to reality for a moment, but the apparition following him in the rear view mirror dissuaded him from slowing down. The car again slid on the right hand bend and the beast was lost from view for a moment or two. Again though it came into view further behind this time, a swift right hand turn followed by a left threw the beast off his scent and less than a minute later the lights of the service station came into view.

He slammed his brakes on and opened the car door running inside, the girl behind the counter looked shocked at his sudden arrival and panicked state.

"Get the fucking lights out now," he screamed at her.

"What…why?" she asked.

"Listen I'm a police officer, switch everything off or we are fucking dead." She hesitated for a moment then opened the office door behind her. With a flick of her hand the lights inside and outside went off.

"What's happening?" She asked him in a whisper, "I saw all the police cars earlier."

"Nothing to do with that, there is something out there, something that damn near took out my car."

"Like what?" she asked peering out into the darkness as he was.

"Like a fucking big cat, some sort of Leopard type thing."

"Oh what like the beast of Bodmin? You come running in here and scare the shit out of me for some cat?"

"No I came running in here and scared the shit out of you for that thing and that isn't a fucking cat…" she followed the direction of his finger and in the illumination of the streetlights she could see something moving. The something was at least as big as a large horse but distinctly cat like in appearance, except for the wings…huge wings.

"Oh god, what is that thing?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

"Keep still, don't move," Andrew said, grabbing her hand, the creature looked their direction for a moment or two, its eyes reflecting the limited light as a green glow. It stopped moving and continued to stare in their direction for what seemed like an age to the terrified couple, only then did it continue on its way.

"What the hell was that?" The girl demanded.

"I have no fucking idea and I don't think I want to know," Andrew replied honestly.

*****

The dream was intense, David was use to erotic dreams; it went with the whole teenager thing. If you spent almost every waking minute of your waking life thinking about what you would like to do with any and every female, between the ages of twelve and forty it was bound to eventually surface as a dream. Even the upper age limit wasn't exactly a limit, more a guideline, he had seen Cher and Tina Turner recently and even with their advanced years he had to admit they looked good. It was all part of being a hormonally driven fourteen year old.

This dream though was something different, he knew he was dreaming, yet couldn't do anything about it. Not that he wanted to when she walked in naked. At most she had to be sixteen, long black hair, smallish breasts with large nipples and against her pale skin the dark inverted vee of her pubic hair was striking. She smiled at him as she walked across his bedroom, a mischievous and extremely erotic smile, though with her lack of clothes absolutely anything she did would have been erotic.

As much as David wanted to, he couldn't move a muscle. She stood by the side of his bed and drew the quilt back exposing his body in the blue pyjamas, he wished that he hadn't worn them tonight they were so childish. She didn't seem to mind though, her smile faded and the tip of her tongue licked her lips as she looked at his tented pyjama bottoms. A hand slid in through the open fly and he felt her cool fingers grasp him firmly, exposing his excitement to her view. Her smile returned and he felt the bed shift as she climbed onto it and it then moved some more as she knelt astride him. Again, he felt her cool hand grasp his penis angling it upwards till it touched something cool, soft and wet. She thrust down and he felt her tight cold passage grasp him firmly, her cold hard nipples rubbed against his hairless chest and her dark hair tickled his face. She was moaning within a few movements, rising up and down on his penis each decent grasping and squeezing him; each time she raised her vagina held onto the tip as if unwilling to let him go.

David found his passion rising within seconds and as the strange dream continued he tried to control himself, but the situation was too erotic. His orgasm hit, before the strange girl had moved up and down him a dozen times, with a force he had never known by himself, and after he lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of her milking the last drops out of him. Eventually though the sensations ceased, erotic excitement sated, he wanted to know everything about this girl, even if she was just a dream. He opened his eyes and he screamed and screamed and screamed…

When his mother came running into the room the first thing she noticed, even before she hit the light switch was the smell, a smell of decay. As the light came on, she saw something sat astride her eldest son, a parody of a female form made from a putrefying and eyeless corpse, with bat like wings. It turned to face her and its mouth opened in a rasping hiss, it turned and launched itself towards the closed window, with a crash it was gone, the bitterly cold air from outside clearing some of the stench that it had left. David though continued his screaming and continued until long after the dawn had come, later he stopped his screaming, later he stopped doing much of anything at all, except for those times when his eyes would again lose focus and again he would scream.

*****

Donald was having problems with what he was hearing, the woman was telling him something about a magic ritual gone wrong. It made no sense at all, the whole point of letting the witches do whatever they did on the few nights a year that they seemed to be out, was that it was all nonsense that harmed nobody. Now this woman, Angela, was saying that they had brought something into existence that had killed people. He had tried ringing the station, but no one had answered and at this stage he was unwilling to ring Truro and Plymouth for help again.

"I won't be long, I will just head up there and see what I can see…" he said to her.

"The Firstborn, Aiken Drum, said not to leave the house," she protested, the tears starting to flow down her face.

"Look, I am not taking orders off some strange dwarf who runs around late at night in fancy dress, you know what its like tonight, it's a full moon and they are all out."

"Even you with your narrow-minded, bigoted, middle-class, Christian views must realise that that dwarf, as you call him is not human," Angela replied with venom in her voice.

"Don't start labelling me honey, you are the newcomer here. I am a returnee after doing time in the forces. My family is anything but middle class they have scratched a living in this shit-hole for generations, where as you come here with your money to live in a quaint little village."

Her biting response was forestalled by the ringing of the telephone, which Donald grabbed glad of something that made sense in his life at this point. Angela just fumed as he talked on the phone, his voice sounding urgent though. As he put the phone down she turned back to him and he raised his hands in to stop her.

"What did you say this bad guy looked like?" Donald asked her.

"Horns, wings and a tail, also very well developed in the male department," Angela answered. "Why?"

"Because that isn't the only thing running around tonight, that was the lad I was on duty with tonight. His car has just been damn near destroyed by a Leopard with wings."

"If what attacked us was real, which I would have doubted before tonight, then that I think is Bitru."

"What the hell is Bitru?" Donald demanded.

"Not what, more a who, sort of, though you have the Hell part right. Bitru, a Great Prince of Hell."

"Are you telling me the devil has come to Cornwall?" He asked his voice full of sarcasm.

"No," she answered with a flat emotionless voice, "I'm saying the whole of hell seems to have come calling."

*****

"I can't get through to Truro or Plymouth on the phone, but I have managed to get my Sergeant at home. Any sign of the bastard out there?" Andrew asked the young woman.

"I don't know, I keep thinking I am seeing things moving, but it might just be my imagination," She replied, her nose almost pressed against the glass. "What did your Sergeant suggest?"

"Not a lot really, either sit tight here or if we feel too exposed here, to make a run for somewhere safer."

"Where exactly is safer? As this place is not exactly a place to survive an attack by that big thing…" she asked him indicating the expanses of glass windows giving such wonderful visibility for those inside and those outside.

"I wouldn't know, I don't think even if I was locked in one of the cells at the station it could keep that bastard out. Did you see what it did to my car and it only tapped it. I'm not going out there to change the wheel and it is in no fit state to be driven without the wheel being changed."

"My Land Rover is out the back, in the parking bay behind the garage, well dads Land Rover anyway," she answered.

"Thank god for farmers daughters," Andrew said with a grin, "nothing else quite like them on earth. I love you all…"

"Makes a change a man saying he loves me to get into my car, rather than my knickers," she said laughing.

*****

The great mother of her family was dying, as was those she had tried to protect. The fear had been too much even for her and they had fled, until they were beached with the tide turning.

Aiken Drum wept at the sight of the huge beasts on the shore, amongst the debris of the high tide. For even with his great strength he could not hope to pull them back to the water. The next tide would be a lower tide, as would the one after that, left here alone they would die. He made soothing noises to the largest female, understanding her thoughts, that she would sacrifice herself for the good of her family, as she had tried to when they had been driven onto the shore. The people in the town couldn't help; there was too much danger in coming down here. To ask them to, or allow them to, would be to invite a slaughter. Maybe after The Lady came, then he could help them, for then he would have allies.

He walked along them twenty-seven of the creatures, some of them so very young, and made more reassuring noises trying to calm their fears.

"Something else you care about Firstborn?" a voice shouted at him from the darkness. "Don't worry I shall attend to them too…"

"No ye won't Lucifer, these are innocents no concern of yours and should you decide to make it your concern, I am sure I can change your mind."

"I wonder about that Firstborn, I still have not sensed your lady and without her you have nothing,"

"As I told you, I do not need The Lady to deal with you," he bent down and picked up a rock, perhaps a little bit larger than a man's head. With one hand he threw it in the direction of the voice, it flew straight and fast enough for its passage through the air to cause a hissing noise. In a fraction of a second, it was lost in the darkness, far beyond the whales.

From the darkness was the sound of an impact.

"They will pay for that, you dancing idiot. You cannot watch over them all the time, eventually they will fall to my tender care and you again will suffer your impotence."

"There are plenty more rock on this beach, would you like another one Lucifer?" From the darkness there was silence, nothing at all stirred except the laboured breathing of the huge beasts.

On a large boulder, Aiken Drum sat down and considered things.

*****

"Do you think it is safe to go out there?" Andrew's companion asked him as he stood by the door.

"No, but there is no way I am staying here and I am not going unarmed."

"What if that thing comes again, what do you want me to do?" She asked.

"You can wish me luck and tell me your name," Andrew said with a slightly shy grin.

"Mary, Mary Jennings from Cottilshal Farm on the Truro road."

"Andrew Wilson and here goes," he opened the door taking the two plastic petrol cans with him and ran to the nearest pump. He shoved the nozzle in the can and squeezed, for a moment nothing happened. He looked up and saw Mary running towards the counter, she reached across and pressed a button. The pump started, shattering the silence of the night, but despite all the noise, it made the time to fill the can was far too long. Eventually he had the two cans filled and replaced the pump, from inside came a loud beeping. Again, inside Mary was scrabbling for a button on the counter, she reached it and the beeping ceased.

Picking up the cans, he ran back to the door, which Mary unlocked for him and locked again afterwards.

"What's your idea?" Mary asked.

"Petrol bombs, well it was…" Andrew said looking at row after row of plastic bottles.

*****

Aiken had come to a decision, he wasn't sure if it was the correct one, in some respects he was sure it was a wrong one. However, he would bear the responsibility of the decision and he was sure The Lady would agree, she loved life, all life, which is why she was The Lady.

His power was meagre compared to the things that walked this night; he was not a creature of power, just a creature created by power. That though didn't mean he was without any power. It had been foreseen that a time might arrive when the old wisdom was lost, when he would have to provide for The Lady's needs and as such, he had been granted a limited power, as a custodian of it, rather than the owner. It was not something to be squandered, for only The Lady with her entourage could renew his power. If the old wisdom was lost, The Lady could only call her entourage with the power he held. The Lady loved life though, all life, and she would forgive him this deed; the old wisdom was still here as was The Blood.

Standing on the shore, he closed his eyes; ritual and ceremony were something for those who didn't understand the power. This he knew would not be easy; the forces of nature were powerful things, too powerful to consider changing needlessly.

This was not needless.

The sea thirty feet beyond where the whales lay began to change, waves began to form and interact. Two waves would meet doubling in height; others would meet troughs and cancel out. They were being played as a musician plays an instrument. A wave was building, held by the interaction of others, growing out of the sea. Wave upon wave added to it and it held its position as another built up behind it and a third.

"Mother of your family," Aiken shouted his voice strained, "ye will have but this chance to save your family, as I have nothing else to give you. Ready yourself."

The first wave came rushing in perhaps thirty feet high flooding the beach, Aiken nimbly backed away until he was out of reach of the lapping waters. The second wave hit, before the waters had time to recede, the depth increasing, some of the smaller whales were now afloat. The third hit and almost all of the whales, except the largest, the mother of the pod, were now afloat.

She sang loudly to her children, telling them to go, to leave her to her fate as the waters began flooding out of the bay. Despite the fact that the rushing waters pulled and tore at her body, it was not going to move her great bulk.

"This is not your day for sacrifice great mother," Aiken shouted, though the whale could not understand his words. He ran into the water until it was almost over his head and pushed with all his might. She moved, sliding backwards towards the sea.

"By The Goddess, may you come back as a dolphin in your next incarnation," Aiken shouted as he pushed with all his might, "for you are almost too much for me."

She began moving faster and faster, suddenly her great bulk was free of the land. She sang in joy and her pod answered her the songs mingling as the little man laughed and danced at the waters edge.

"Go now great mother, leave this place. Live long and may your family always flourish while the moon rules the tides," Aiken shouted waving his red hat at them. After they had gone from sight, he placed his hat back on his head and turned in the direction that Lucifer's voice had come from and smiled, he then turned and continued on his way.

*****

Mary had come up with the solution, though she wasn't exactly happy about it. An inbuilt fear of losing her job made her reluctant, despite the exceptional circumstances. The empty jars though were good enough to hold the petrol. With a minor modification to the lids, a piece of cloth was held, thanks to Andrew and a screwdriver punching holes in the tops. The enclosed garage now stunk of petrol fumes, pickled onion and beetroot. They had a dozen jars, as improvised petrol bombs and a number of disposable cigarette lighters. Andrew's main concern now, was how to get them into the Land Rover without spilling them.

"Where are your keys? I will bring your car around to the doors, then you can jump in." Andrew said to Mary.

"Oh you will, will you? Well if you think Elsie will play for anyone who doesn't know her you are very mistaken."

"Elsie, who the hell is Elsie?" Andrew asked her.

"One moment and I will introduce you," Mary said opening the door and stepping into the night before Andrew could object. A minute later, the sound of an engine trying to start could be heard and then the roar as it caught. A large, very old Land Rover came to the front door and Mary waved from the driver's side. Andrew picked up as many of the jars as he could, without spilling them and put them in the open rear, he made a second trip and was just about to make a trip for the last two, when Mary shouted.

"Forget them, we have company. Hold tight back there." She shouted back to him. It was only by grabbing one of the bench seats that Andrew stayed in the vehicle, as it lurched off. A number of his petrol bombs did slip out and smash on the now rapidly moving ground. He looked out of the open rear doors, the huge Leopard like creature was back and looking rather pissed off. It actually seemed to be gaining on them with its long loping stride. Arranging himself so his leg was hooked around one of the legs of the seats, Andrew picked up one of the jars, fished in his pocket for one of the lighters, the wick caught light and he threw it at the beast. The wick of torn cloth had gone out before the mass of the petrol could catch, he tried with a second one…with spectacular results.

The petrol from the previous bomb had obviously splashed the creature, for when the second one left a fiery trail in front of the creature it suddenly erupted in flame and screamed its anger. It didn't slow down or stop though; it carried on chasing the car, now instead of a huge form in the shadows, a monster of fire.

"Put your fucking foot down," Andrew screamed at Mary as he tried to pull the rear door closed before the creature reached them. He managed to close it as the beast reached its closest point, possibly ten feet from him, then as the sluggish engine built up speed the distance increased, though the beast continued following.

"What the hell was that?" Mary asked from the front of the vehicle.

"I have no idea…" Andrew replied.

*****

The circle completed, the town sealed Aiken Drum made his way back to the house where the one of The Blood lived. He would help him find The Lady, being of The Blood he would be sensitive to such things. Then with the help of the Priestess and her coven they could put an end to this. All were here; all were ready, just awaiting the arrival of The Lady.

It had been too long that she had been sleeping; it would be nice to see her once more.

*****

Donald was still reeling from the story of the massacre at The Lady's Bed, when his doorbell rang again. Outside were a very dishevelled Andrew and a woman that Donald recognised from the petrol station in town.

"What the hell are you doing here? I told you to sit tight." Donald demanded after the door was closed.

"You said if we were safe to sit tight," Andrew replied, "that place was not safe, not with that thing out there. Who the hell are all these?"

"They are the witches who got all the attention for dancing in the nude, they met something out at The Lady's Bed. Something that killed a number of them."

"Are they to blame? Is all this their fault?"

"No…I don't think so anyway. There was too much weird shit going on before they started playing their games," Donald replied, though with a moment's hesitation.

"We did not do this," Angela said firmly, "yes we were raising power, but something else came. Something that called itself Lucifer, The Light Bringer."

"That's what you were after wasn't it," Andrew said, "that's what you witches do, raise the devil and all that shit."

"That is why we practice our faith in private, with secrecy. Because narrow minded bigoted idiots like you tend to be in the majority, rather than the minority."

"Come off it, every one knows that that is what witchcraft is all about, spells and the devil and this is what comes of pissing about with it."

"Nice to see an open-minded police officer, no hint of bias or prejudice in you, is there? Perhaps you would like to burn us at the stake?"

"Right now, stop it both of you," Donald snapped at them. "This doesn't help us at all. We don't need to lay blame at this time, we need to know how to stop it. You were there when this thing turned up calling itself Lucifer, have you any idea how to send it back?"

"I know the theory, but it would mean getting it back inside a circle and keeping it there while we perform the rituals. You don't want to be caught anywhere with that thing," Angela replied with a shudder.

"I don't know about this thing that you had appear but it wasn't what took out my car. That was a fucking big leopard with wings; it didn't even stop when I hit it with a petrol bomb. Can't we call in the army or the air force? Let those who know what they are doing sort it out?" Andrew asked.

"I can't get anyone outside the town on the phone and I didn't want to leave these ladies while I went for help. Now you are here we are in a slightly different position, I can leave them with you while I head to somewhere with a phone that works." Donald told him, "besides it will be dawn soon and people will be getting up. Do these things run around in the daylight or are they like vampires and appear at night?"

"I wouldn't know," Angela said, "I didn't even believe in evil demons, until a few hours ago."

"Hey Sarge, you are more use here. Protecting these ladies, how about you stay here and I try for a telephone? If the phones outside town aren't working I might even have to head to Truro," Donald thought about this for a moment or two, convinced that it was the thought of getting out of the town rather than any thought of the civilians that was prompting this offer. The irritating thing was, that despite his reasons, he was right. Donald was the best chance that those here had of surviving this, if he actually knew enough about them to be able to hurt them.

"Wait until the sun comes up, then at least you may have a chance," Donald told him. "Besides while it is still dark our best defence is in a group."

"Right Angela, you are the only one who has any idea what's going on, besides that little man. Now if we can't send them back, how can we hurt them or kill them?" Donald asked her.

"Spells, invocations, Aiken Drum said my wand had power and things like salt, steel and iron. Those have always been the ways I have heard of…" she paused, "there is always a priest"

"The only one we have in town is Father Grant and I have not exactly been on speaking terms with him," Donald said.

"Why not?" Angela asked, seeing she had always found the Catholic Minister to be a most pleasant person.

"Because I wouldn't address the problem of the fake religious groups that had appeared in our community and the threat that they posed to all. He didn't like the fact I let you play around without interference, like so many of our religious groups, tolerance is something for others."

"What about the rest of the town?" Mary asked him.

"For the moment we leave them, all panic and people on the streets is going to do is get people killed. At home in bed, they are as safe as anywhere." Donald said.

"What about when the dawn comes, if they are still around?" Andrew asked.

"Well then we are in deep shit…anyone know what happened to that little man, he seemed to know what was going on."

*****

Father Grant had woken up early in the events, like those who had been awake; he had felt uneasy and disturbed by something nameless. It was nothing he could put his finger on, just a distinct feeling of unease and it had troubled him as he lay in his bed, eventually he had got up and sat downstairs with a cup of tea.

Noises in the town though started to bother him; though trouble was not unknown, they had a peaceful and friendly place. If something was going on as spiritual leader for at least a quarter of the town and the only proper minister who lived there, he should be there, to offer what assistance he could. So leaving his drink he got dressed. One of the handy things about his profession was the uniform. In summer he could wear shorts and a t-shirt under his robes, in winter as many layers as he could. Even with all the layers as he stepped out of the house, that went with the job, he found the cold air bracing to say the least.

Towards the centre of town, he could see a glow, as if something was burning there, then a scream of unearthly nature cracked the silence of the night. It wasn't a scream from afar though; it was a scream from very close, from his church. He hurried around to the side door; it appeared to be secure so he carried on around to the main doors. The oak doors that one man could barely close, the doors that had stood guarding the entrance to St. Winifred's church for two hundred years were shattered. No piece was bigger than kindling for a fire and inside something moved. Father Grant clutched at his crucifix for a moment, mumbled a prayer asking for strength and walked into the dark void of the church.

"That is amusing, you ask for help of a deity you have no proof exists," came from the darkness.

"I need no proof, I have my faith," the priest shouted back. "Now who defiles the House of God? This is a place of worship and as such should be immune to the petty theft and vandalism that plagues the rest of the world. A church is a special place."

"The purpose of faith is a mystery to me, it does not keep you warm and it does not feed your belly. However, as a parasite on society perhaps it does feed your belly. This church, this place of worship is special though and as such, I would not defile it more than my presence here does naturally. That act of defilement though will not be a problem, because instead of deity that has no form, people now have me to worship."

"Who are you to speak such blasphemy," Father Grant shouted while trying to find the light switches with his hand, the limited light inside the church made it a place of shadows, a nearby streetlight offered the only illumination and that was limited to the aisle.

"I am many things I am Yetzer ha Ra, the evil influence in man, it was supposedly I who convinced the serpent to corrupt Eve. Most forget though that at one time I was an agent of he who you call god, I was the one who suggested the trials of Job and it was I who made David number Israel."

"What you claim to be and what you are, will be two very different things, I think you are a sick person who needs help. That is what I am here for, let me minister to you," the priest suggested gently. His hand found the light switches and flicked them on; no light came on though, he flicked them up and down a few times hoping for some light.

"You wish to minister to me, perhaps to bring me into gods light as you would bring me into man's light. What would you do for me Man of God, what sacrifice would you make, the one you call Jesus made a sacrifice and he gave his life for his beliefs would you? He died for you, would you die for me?" The voice in the dark asked.

"I would give my life for my fellow man, I have faith in The Lord and I know I would receive my reward in heaven. Now don't talk like this my son, come with me we will sit down have a cup of tea and a chat, things can't be this bad."

"Oh they can be worse Man of God, your god has gone and left you and I am here, you say you would die for me. When your faith has left you and you know your god doesn't love you, if you tell me you have no faith, then I may let you die for me," the voice cried and a huge figure covered in thick black hair appeared large bat like wings extended behind it.

"What on earth are you," Father Grant screamed at the monstrosity raising his crucifix before him like a shield.

"I am not of earth, I am your one and true lord, for I am Satan," with that the beast sent the man sprawling across the floor, with a huge hand.

*****

"And what will you be doing?" Aiken Drum asked Donald as he walked to his car, causing the man to gasp in surprise.

"I was going to pick up Father Grant, the local priest. I felt he might be able to help us at this time."

"A priest, yes a priest would help, it is the way the world works a man and a woman, a priest and a priestess," he said nodding.

"I felt we needed all the help we could get at this time, there are strange things happening."

"The Lady should be able to help, though I know not what has happened to her. With a priest and a priestess, though we can ask her to appear and then she can help us. You should not be going alone though, we need the power of The Priestess to protect us on this journey."

"I am not taking her with me, it is not safe for her to be out and about with all this going on."

"You wish to protect her, that is a noble sentiment, but nowhere is safe this night," Aiken told him and saw the determination on Donald's face. "Tis always said of the blood, that they have a stubborn mind. If we go then we will need steel or iron, it will not give much protection but it is better than none."

"I have some tools in the garage, there should be something there to help us," Donald suggested.

Inside the garage was a poor selection of tools. Donald had never been one for DIY or similar hobbies, but Aiken seemed pleased with a pair of large sledgehammers, Donald settled on a large axe.

"Now remember, this is but something they dislike. The protection we get from this will be but a fleeting thing and by then we must have left, or you will die," Aiken said.

"What about you?" Donald asked.

"I thank you for your concern, but I was here at the beginning as I will be here at the end, it takes more than a demon to kill me. Now let us be going, for you cannot walk as fast as I can."

"We don't tend to walk anymore Mr Drum, we have cars."

"Would that be the thing you tried to kill me with earlier tonight?" Aiken asked.

"That's it, but I didn't think you could be killed."

"Killed no, but I can be hurt as can all they who walk this night."

"Good then," Donald said with a firm grip on the axe. "Because I intend to cause them some pain."

"That's The Blood in you speaking, always an impetuous lot those of The Blood, even for children as young as you. However I am not one to talk, I have never been known to refuse a dance. What is your name, if we are to fight side by side I need a name to sing about."

"Donald, Donald Jameson."

"Donald, that is a good strong name, come Donald show me this thing you call a car."

For a man, or a creature, that seemed so out of place in the real world, Aiken was not intimidated by Donald's car. As they raced through the streets towards the church, he had a huge grin on his face, though he did not like the seat belt Donald insisted he wore. As they approached the church, his face fell though.

"Are ye ready for a fight then, Donald of The Blood, for there is one here who needs reminding where is his place in the scheme of things." Aiken said.

"Can we talk our way out of it?" Donald asked him.

"Talk is the one thing you do not do with this one, his voice is part of his power, listen and he can make you doubt and with doubt in your mind and heart you are lost."

"I think I understand, but how do you know what we face?"

"Feel him, you have The Blood so feel your foe."

"I don't feel anything," Donald said after a moment's contemplation.

"If you do not use your gifts they can let you down, like with this car, if you use it too much your legs may fail you when you need them most."

"Where is this foe then?" Donald asked trying to get to the important business.

"In the stable with the pretty windows."

"Oh," Donald said after a moment's confusion, "the church."

"Whatever it is called our battle lies within,"

"Come on then lets go do what has to be done," Donald said.

"That is the way, eager for battle and the glories it brings. The Lady and The Goddess do not approve of such things, though Lord Herne will welcome you as part of his great hunt. He understands that there is conflict in the world and for there to be life, there must be conflict and death. It is the way of the world, the way of nature and the way of life. Let us go and face a foe together…but could you make this car release me first? It seems not to want me to leave it."

From inside the church could be heard noises, some of them identifiable as human sounds of pain, others though most definitely not human.

"They have some power now, not much but enough to stop your lights without fire. Can you see well in the dark?" Aiken asked.

"Not really," Donald admitted.

"Well we must bring it out to us then," Aiken shouted with a grin while standing outside the gaping hole where the doors had been. "Satan, Satan are you coming out? Or are you too scared to dance a dance with me?"

"Leave me Firstborn, I have found something to amuse me," came a rumbling voice from within the ruined church.

"As always Satan, you are a simple creature never willing to face one who might best you, when The Lady comes and calls, you will be the first to run and hide."

"You test my patience Firstborn, only so much am I willing to take from such as you. When I am done I will come and find you, so run now while you can. Your Lady isn't here to protect you."

"Come on," Aiken said to Donald.

"Come on what?" Donald asked.

"Tis part of battle, taunting your foe till he makes a mistake, so come on taunt him man."

"Taunt him? Well okay," Donald said feeling very out of his depth at this time. "You were right Aiken, we couldn't get a decent fight out of Satan, we should have gone to find Lucifer or what about that leopard thing, it can't be as much of a pussy as this thing in the church."

"Mortal, I can make you suffer a thousand time worse a fate than the Firstborn," Satan's voice rumbled back.

"Are you sure that is Satan and not some bloody mouse, as from my understanding Satan was supposed to be a big evil fucker, not something that hides in the dark."

"You mortals have been long misled as to what Satan is, it is but a creature like any other. It is scared that if mankind takes note of its existence, it will be but an attraction in a fair, roaring to scare the children," Aiken added and within the church movement could be heard.

"Firstborn, I will make you suffer an eternity of pain for this,"

"Come on Aiken we won't get a fight here, its too bloody scared. It's not Satan it's a fucking fairy," Donald said starting to turn as if to leave.

"I will put up with such comments off the Firstborn, for his time will come and the price for his years of irritation will be many lifetimes of suffering. You on the other hand are a different matter. You should fear me human as all that you have faith in, is but delusions. There will be but one Lord upon the earth and it is I."

"Bullshit, you're just hiding from Lucifer, your chicken-shit, your scared, your nothing." Donald began walking off.

"Do not turn your back on me human," Satan roared.

"What was it…oh yes, get thee behind me Satan."

"I am warning you human." Donald kept walking.

"Human,"

There was a roar behind him and the creature emerged, at least double the height of Donald and possessing a set of horns as long as a mans arm. If Angela had been there she would have seen the relationship between this creature and Lucifer, undoubtedly they were of the same species. The only real difference between the two was the fact that this creature had longer thick black hair over its body and its penis wasn't erect. As for Donald, he nearly dropped his axe and it was only the actions of Aiken Drum that saved his life. The two sledgehammers were held as if they were no weight at all and they both caught the creature in the chest.

"Don't just stand there man, get between it and the door," Aiken shouted and Donald ran to the steps of the church, despite his fear, he stood there axe ready.

"What do you expect him to do Firstborn? I will deal with him and then I will deal with you and what a pleasure that will be," Satan roared, turning around to face Donald.

"Deal with him will you, have a smell, even with the stench you carry you must smell it. Who but The Blood would be standing here defying you?" Aiken shouted, Satan hesitated and looked at Donald.

"The Blood is not what it was, that is if he is of The Blood,"

"Oh he is of The Blood and as you know those of The Blood are never what they seem. This one wanted to face you alone, but I decided to join in the fun. It has been many seasons since I have seen one of The Blood in action. Come on then, don't deprive me of this little pleasure in my long life."

"Does he have power? He may be of The Blood, but the world has changed, much has been lost with the human's progress," Satan said; to Donald it was obvious that the creature was uncertain and very hesitant about tackling him.

"Oh, no I have no power," Donald shouted, "that's why I am stood here facing you, Satan, with only an axe. Come off it do you think I am that fucking stupid, to face you with only an axe and nothing else? Come on you pussy, let's dance…"

He stepped forwards swinging the axe at Satan, the creature backed off out of his reach. Aiken moved forward as well.

"Come Prince of Perdition, I am going to knock the horns from your head," Aiken shouted as he closed the distance. "They might have forgotten much here, but they do make good steel…you remember steel don't you and the pain it causes you?"

There was a moment or two's indecision and the beast backed off, then it left without another word.

"We made it turn tail and run," Donald said jubilantly after it had gone.

"It will be back, it is early yet and the players in this game are just beginning to feel their powers awaken. In Tyrus he was at his full power, before The Nazarene came, there he held all in his thrall with his lies and there many died casting him from the land."

"What power is there in a lie?" Donald asked him.

"Exactly the same power that is in a truth and a truth can change the world, come let us find this priest you speak of, where will he be?"

"In the church probably," Donald said his elation at the ease they had vanquished the beast fading.

"There is someone in there, but he has no power, he is not a priest," Aiken said, then hesitated a moment, "he does have something, it is not a power I know. He is hurt."

Inside the church, it was dark Donald began fumbling along the wall hoping to find a light switch. His hand hit something slick and warm.

"What do you seek?" Aiken asked.

"Light switches, like in the garage where we got the tools, buttons on the wall to make the light come on."

"I know them, to the other side of the doorway," Aiken said helpfully though his voice was serious.

Finding the light switches, Donald gasped as he looked down the aisle of what had been a fine church. Pews had been shattered as had most of the internal decoration, for some reason the Madonna and Christ on the cross had been undamaged, but smeared with something that looked like excrement. There was a moan behind him and he turned around, hanging on the wall in a horrific parody of the Christ Crucified, was Father Jameson. Wooden stakes had been driven through his wrists and feet with enough force to penetrate the stonework and his naked body was ravaged by claw marks. The slick substance that Donald had put his hand in was the priest's blood that ran down the wall.

"Oh Jesus," Donald said as he saw the sight and the priest responded.

"Exaudi Deus orationem meam et ne despexeris deprecationem," The priest mumbled.

"We have got to get him down," Donald shouted.

"Intende mihi et exaudi me," The priest continued.

"The little wooden house, we can use that," Aiken said running over to a
confessional box on its side. The two of them dragged it over underneath the priest and Donald climbed up. He tried to pull the stake out from the man's feet; it was slick with the man's blood and wouldn't move.

"Let me at it Donald, I may be able to move it," Aiken said pushing him out of the way, he pulled at it with one hand and it came free.

"Support his body and let me climb on you," Aiken said. Donald reached up and supported the man under his arms, he could feel Aiken climbing up on his back and standing on his shoulders. The priest screamed once and then a second time, his weight sank down onto Donald, Aiken just jumped to the floor off Donald's shoulders.

"Pass him down and quickly, they are coming back this way and it would be better if we are not here. It would be better if we were far from here and The Lady with us, protecting us."

"Who is The Lady?" Donald asked as he passed the priest down to Aiken.

"The Lady who sleeps, The Lady who waits. She who will call and all will come in the name of The Goddess who created all."

"That doesn't exactly explain much," Donald said as he climbed down.

"This is neither the time or the place for explanations, we must leave and make somewhere safe."

"Yes, but then you and I are going to have a long talk. You are the only one who seems to know what is going on and you are not exactly a normal person, you need to explain to me what the Hell is going on."

"As I said this has naught to do with Loki's child, we must go," said Aiken.

*****

The anger was growing within the creature called Satan. The priest had been an amusement, so strong in his beliefs it was a pleasure to torture him and the final act of his despair, as his faith crumbled would have been a pleasure it hadn't known for many an age. Then The Firstborn had arrived, bringing with him a man of The Blood and steel, to challenge for the prize that Satan had claimed. This was just beginning, The Firstborn and the upstart human would pay and they would pay when Satan walked upon the earth again with his full power. The Lady was not here, she had not answered the call of the power. If she weren't here this would be their time.

They would walk upon the earth unopposed.

(continued)

 

 

 

*********************************************
© 2003 by Hypatia. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.