John Saul - The Right Hand of Evil

Both Jared and Ted stood before the altar now, the image of their god looming above them. The dagger vibrated in Jared's right hand, a few inches above Molly's naked breast, and as Kim drew closer, Ted's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Do it," he commanded once more. "Do it now!"

Jared's hand moved, and the dagger's point touched Molly's skin.

"DO IT!" Ted screamed. "Make your sacrifice!"

Not real!

Kim repeated the words over and over again as she moved toward the altar. She tried not to look at the terrifying being that floated above the altar, concentrating instead on forcing her feet to obey the will of her mind instead of the power of her fear.

Not real, she told herself again.

But this time she knew it was real, that what she was seeing was the very source of evil itself, and not merely an image conjured up in some underworld to frighten her away.

She could still hear Jared's voice calling to her, but it was weaker now. She was close enough to feel his mind, and she could sense him weakening as their father railed at him. In another moment or two it would be too late.

The twin serpents flicked toward her once again, their fangs bared, their slitted eyes glowing, but when she moved the cross in her left hand toward them, they veered away, hissing like water splashed on a sizzling griddle.

She moved closer, and now the evil image itself was screaming, bellowing in rage as she drew nearer, then nearer still, until she was next to Jared, standing before the altar, gazing into her brother's face in the light of the flickering candles that lit the area above the altar. The tip of the dagger still rested on Molly's breast. Molly herself was crying, and wailing for her mother.

"Do it, damn you!" she heard her father command, and saw Jared's knuckles turn white as his fingers tightened on the haft of the dagger.

He raised it, ready to plunge it deep into his little sister's chest.

Kim reached out and dropped the chain over Jared's head. The cross fell to his chest.

In the instant the cross touched him, Jared's face contorted with rage, and he lifted the dagger higher. His mouth opened and a screech of fury burst from his throat. A moment later the dagger flashed downward.

And plunged to the hilt into Ted Conway's chest.

Ted staggered, then sank to his knees. Jared, the dagger still clutched in his hand, pulled it loose. Ted gazed up at Jared, his eyes filled with shock, color draining from his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Jared thrust the dagger into his father's gaping face, ramming it through the roof of his father's mouth to sink it deep into the core of his brain.

His life already ended, blood still gurgling from his wounds, Ted crumpled to the floor in front of the altar.

"Get Molly," Jared whispered, but even though his words were barely audible, Kim heard them directly from his mind. "Get Mom. Get out. For God's sake, get out."

Lifting Molly off the altar, Kim turned and ran up the aisle, calling out to her mother to follow her. A moment later they burst through the doors.

And back into the darkness of the staircase.

As the terrible nightmare released her from its grip, Janet stopped short. "I-I don't understand-" she stammered. "What-"

But Kim, still carrying Molly, pushed her up the stairs. "Get out!" she said. "Jared says we have to get out. Now!"

Something in her daughter's voice penetrated the confusion that surrounded Janet, and, taking Molly from Kim's arms, she stumbled up the stairs, through the dining room and entry hall, and out onto the front porch.

The sun was shining brightly, and a faint breeze played in the air.

Janet was back in the perfect morning to which she had awakened.

Father MacNeill's prayers died on his lips as the front door of the house flew open. When Kim burst out onto the porch, no more than ten minutes after she'd gone into the house, he was certain she'd failed. Either she hadn't found the second cross, or, more likely, she had lost her nerve.

He didn't want even to think about the worst possibility, that somehow she had lost the cross that had been hanging around her neck.

When Janet Conway appeared with Molly in her arms, however, he released the breath he'd unconsciously been holding and took a step toward the house. But as he moved off the sidewalk and onto the Conway property itself, the chill of evil fell over him, and he knew that the terrible confrontation inside had not yet ended.

Kim, exhausted by what she'd been through, collapsed into his supporting arms. He held her for a moment, feeling her heart pounding, her body trembling. "It's all right," he told her. "You're going to be all right." Eventually, the throbbing of her heart began to slow, her trembling to ease. "Where is your brother?" he asked, then more urgently: "Where is he?"

Kim raised her face-streaked with tears she could no longer keep under control-and looked beseechingly into the priest's eyes. "He stayed," she whispered. "He told me to leave, but he stayed."

"And your father?" the priest went on.

Kim's voice wavered as she struggled against the sob that threatened to choke her. "He-He's dead," she stammered. "Jared-"

Father MacNeill pressed the forefinger of his right hand against her lips to silence her before she could finish. "Not Jared," he said quietly. "Jared did nothing." His eyes fixed on Kim's. "Do you understand that? It was never your brother. Never."

Janet, her strength ebbing away, sank onto the narrow strip of lawn between the sidewalk and the street. Hugging Molly close-as much for her own comfort as for her child's-she tried to grasp what had just happened. But she couldn't. Nothing-not one single thing since she woke up that morning-made any sense. And yet as she listened to Father MacNeill talking to Kim, it sounded as though both of them not only knew about the nightmare she'd just been through, but somehow understood it. Her eyes drifted to the house, but all she could see was the terrible image of her son, a knife-glistening with blood-gripped tightly in his hand as he stood above his father.

Above Ted -

No, not Ted.

Someone- something -else. But not Ted.

Not Jared-

No, it had to have been some kind of nightmare-it had to have been…

Certain her sanity was collapsing, she summoned the last reserves of her strength. "Tell me," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Someone, please-tell me what's happening to me…"

Father MacNeill knelt beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Hell," he said softly. "You've just been to Hell, Janet. But you're back. It's over."

But still he felt the cold of evil spreading out from the house. Still, he knew it was not over.

Not yet.

The vast space around him filled with a cacophony of rage that threatened to shatter Jared's mind. The dagger forgotten, he reflexively clamped his hands over his ears to shut out the anguished shrieks of the damned souls whose wailing agonies resounded around him.

The knife, its blade still smeared with Ted Conway's blood, had fallen only a fraction of an inch from Ted's lifeless hand. As Jared turned away from the altar, his foot touched the haft and it swung around, brushing against the fingers of its victim.

As metal touched flesh, the finger twitched as if shocked by electricity. Then, instead of relaxing back into the stillness of death, Ted's fingers closed on the dagger. The blood on its blade faded as if sucked back into the body from which it had spurted only moments before. A guttural sound spewed from Ted's throat, and he sat up, then staggered to his feet, bracing himself against the altar. His eyes burned into the retreating back of his son with such intensity that Jared, feeling the fury of his father's gaze, turned back.