Father Peterson made his way carefully down the narrow stairs to the catacombs. They were slippery and he didn't want to risk falling now that he was so close. Jeffrey followed carrying the box. He had become increasingly afraid since they had stepped through the doorway and he followed closely to stay in the circle of light from Father Peterson's flashlight.
"Father," he whispered, "I'm not so sure about this anymore."
"Quiet, boy." Father Peterson snapped, not turning around. "The day of Judgment is at hand and I am not about to back out now. Not when I have been chosen to usher in the glorious New Age."
They reached the main burial chamber and Father Peterson walked to the center of the room. His light revealed a nearly circular room with a low ceiling and a smooth stone floor. The walls glistened from trickling water which ran down them and into the burial niches carved into the walls. The air was filled with the smell of death and decay. Father Peterson looked around for a second then motioned for Jeffrey to bring the box. Jeffrey stood there shaking his head.
"It's not too late to leave." he said.
Father Peterson strode over and snatched the box from the boy's hands. "You can stay or leave as you wish," he said. "But I intend to see this thing through."
He moved to the center of the room and set the box on the floor. He then reached into his pocket and brought out the box of colored chalk. Bending over, he traced a rough circle on the floor some seven feet in diameter. He stood for a moment to ease his back then knelt down and began drawing the ancient symbols along the inner edge of the circle, some in red, some in blue. Jeffrey watched for a while then walked over and touched the priest's shoulder.
"Father."
Father Peterson stopped his drawing and looked up at Jeffrey, a strange smile on his face. The boy flinched as he saw the priest's eyes held the unmistakable glint of madness. "This has gone too far to stop now, boy," the father said. "If you're going to leave, do so now. If not, then for God's sake stay in the circle. It's our only protection."
Jeffrey looked down at the priest for a second then shrugged off his back pack. He set it down on the floor as Father Peterson went back to his drawing. "I'll stay." he said.
When the circle was complete Father Peterson turned his attention to the back pack. He withdrew its contents slowly, placing each object side by side on the floor. First the chalice then the dagger. Next came the bell and the packet of incense. Finally he turned to the box and, with utmost reverance, opened the lid and removed the scroll. He laid the scroll on the floor, weighting its top down with the bell, its bottom with the chalice.
Still on his knees he turned and grabbed the front of Jeffrey's shirt, roughly pulling the boy down beside him. Jefrey whimpered in fear.
"It's time." the priest whispered.
He picked up the packet of incense and dumped its contents into the chalice. He then picked up the dagger and softly struck either side of the bell with its blade. The ringing was unexpectedly loud in the empty chamber, seeming to echo back to them from the walls. Father Peterson then held his hand over the chalice and drew the blade of the dagger across his palm. As the blood touched the incense, smoke began to rise from the chalice. Father Peterson began to chant.
"Diabhol An cluinn thu.
Thig an so."
A wind seemed to spring up in the chamber. The flashlight flickered and went out, leaving them in almost total darkness. Then the white of the chalk circle began to glow. At first softly, then quickly becoming bright enough to illuminate the entire chamber. Father Peterson continued his chant.
"Trothad an so.
Thig an so."
Jeffrey could stand no more. "Father please." he said.
Without a break in his rhythm Father Peterson turned and slapped the boy. Jeffrey stood and ran from the circle. The instant his feet crossed the chalk line there was a bright flash, then a muted thump as his charred remains were flung against the far wall. The chamber filled with the odor of scorched flesh.
Father Peterson stopped chanting to stare at what remained of the boy. Suddenly he was aware of another presence in the room. A low laugh filled his ears and, for the first time, he began to feel fear. Slowly he turned to face the Enemy.
He had prepared his mind for any number of hideous visions, but he was totally shocked by what he saw. The shape before him was insubstantial, shifting. Running through it were colors of intense brightness and incredible beauty. The shape spoke and its voice was the high pitched tinkle of broken glass.
"well, well, Father Peterson," it said. "We were not expecting to see you for quite a few years yet."
"Silence!" roared the father, momentarily forgetting his fear. He tried to focus his eyes on the shape, to see it better, but was unable. His confusion was evident as he spoke.
"You're not the one I was expecting." he said.
"Oh but We are," the shape said in a voice now like the wind, " Satan, Lucifer, The Devil. Take your choice."
The priest felt some of his confidence returning. After all wasn't he God's chosen? "Then it's you I've come to destroy for the glory of God." he said.
"Many have tried my friend," the shape said. "Yet We are still here. How did you plan to go about it?"
Father Peterson triumphantly held up the scroll. "With this!" he cried.
The shap seemed to contract in on itself, the colors going a deep purple then coming back to crimson. "Where did you get that?" it asked. In its voice was heard all the fear in the world.
"That doesn't matter." Father Peterson said. "What does matter is that you will finally be put in your rightful place so that God may rule this world undisturbed."
"You do not understand." the shape said. " That would be the end of all. We go by many names, not only Satan and Lucifer."
It took a second for this to sink in to Father Peterson. His face grew red when he finally realized what the shape was saying. "Blasphemy!" he screamed. "How dare you try to claim the name of the most Holy! For that you go now!" He began to chant once more.
"Clasteach mi Diabhol."
"It is true, We are One!"
"Co thoir dubh lasair."
"That spell was brought to this world by a jealous faction of our underlings. They thought to usurp Our power through it."
The ground beneath them began to tremble. Father Peterson continued chanting, paying no heed to the shape's words or the sound of stones falling from the chamber's walls and ceiling.
The sahpe was now a dark blue and growing darker. Its voice could now barely be heard. "If you complete the spell, Creation itself will unravel. There will be nothing."
"Thoir ort u ifrinn."
The shape began to shrink. It was now so dark it could barely be seen. Father Peterson finished the chant.
"Am Mairekas Co Norath Anguras!"
There was the sound of Infinity screaming.
Then there was nothing.
