“It’s all true,” he seethed suddenly, throwing a withering glower over his shoulder.
“So, let’s pretend for a second that I believe that. What are the people of Bishop?”
“Descendants of the Jersey Devil. They’re devils too, just less powerful. They’re similar to demons, the difference being that devils are more like a genetic virus passed down from people who were once human. Demons are birthed by other demons.”
I waited for him to drop the punchline, but none came. He seemed perfectly serious. In fact, he seemed pissed as fuck that he was telling me all this. It’s like he’d made up his mind before that he wasn’t going to tell me shit.
For some reason, he’d changed his mind.
“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or if you’re just crazy.”
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “We don’t want to attract them.”
“Wait, who?”
A shriek echoed through the woods, and it was like nothing I’d ever heard before. It sounded like Satan’s grandmother stubbed her toe on a hornet’s nest. It made me want to turn back immediately and run. Titus must have sensed that, though, because he quickly reached back and gripped my arm, not letting me go.
“You’re fine, little lamb. Just stay behind me, alright?” His tone was strangely soothing. I couldn’t put my finger on why at first, but I realized he was brimming with confidence. With comfort. He’d been out here before.
“A-alright,” I sputtered, heart still racing from whatever the hell I’d just heard.
“Bishop does worse than torture and kill. They create a living Hell on earth for a select few victims, all of whom are unwilling. Victims like you and your mother. Victims likemymother. Some are dragged here kicking and screaming. Others are lured with the promise of a better life. Either way, all offerings end up the same.” His voice bent with emotion. “Look.”
I turned my head to where he gestured, and it took me a long time to really see it. There was someone in the woods, just kind of… meandering. They looked lost.
It took time for my eyes to adjust to the murk of the woods, then I realized there were many figures scattered around like an aimless flock of sheep. Their faces were mostly obscured by the distance, but we were close enough to tell they were people wearing filthy clothing.
It was surreal.
What were they doing wandering around out here? What had happened to them?
“Why are they—” I began.
“The old offerings,” he answered. “Stolen from their families and sacrificed for their souls, which are harvested from their living bodies.”
“Their souls?” I gasped. “How is that even possible? How can someone have their soul harvested?”
He shook his head, sighing. “I wasn’t going to tell you this…”
I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. He seemed rigid, uncomfortable. But he didn’t pull away. “Tell me.”
“The Ritual is a gathering of Bishop’s citizens, who are all members of the Old Faith. It takes place every month on the full moon. And every month, the Elder One demands an offering in the form of a human soul. It is everyone’s duty to find a sacrifice of their own, through whatever means necessary, once every several years.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and yet, there was a part of me that did believe. “Your mother, she was once an offering?”
His expression grew rock hard and distant as he stared dead ahead into the gathering of old offerings. “Yeah. She was my father’s prisoner for more than eighteen years. The only reason she was allowed to keep her soul for so long was that she became pregnant with me. I’m sure she would have gone to Ritual the moment she gave birth had she been anyone else’s offering. But as the Keeper, my father has certain…”—He gritted his teeth—“privileges.”
I followed his line of sight back to the offerings. “They seem so mindless.”
“That’s because they are. Physically, they are perfectly healthy. Or, they were. Removing a soul robs someone of their essence. What makes them,them.Each one of these poor bastards’ souls have been offered up to our Elder, stripped away from their body. Now, their husks are discarded like old trash to wander through the Barrens until the elements claim them.”
I was almost afraid to ask the question burning on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Which one is your mom?”
His mood darkened considerably. He seemed on the verge of rage, or maybe sorrow.
“She’s not here.”
“What…what happened to her?”
