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“What secrets are you trading?” I ask.
“Plenty. Devil’s Bay is where everyone is hiding something and sooner or later the demons emerge from the darkness.”
“Tell me one,” I prod.
“Since you’ve seen the lab. I suppose I can talk about it.” He pauses, glancing up at the sky.”
I gesture for him to hurry up.
“Those creatures are the souls—or whatever is left of them—of what was once a human. I’ve only heard about the lab and its experiments. I’ve never been able to actually get inside without being noticed.”
I stop mid stride. We had joined a thin line of people walking towards the old church. They swarm too close for comfort.
“Here to see the Devil, miss?” A voice croaks into my ear. I swat away their pungent odor and step into Christian’s awaiting embrace.
“Move,” Christian orders.
The lanky person scuttles away like a beetle would if it had two legs. Up ahead the church reveals itself—mold mottled and ugly. It could have likely been beautiful at one point but has fallen into disrepair. It stands at the end of the street with two roads veering off in other directions, and looming in the center of its yard is an effigy of the Devil. There’s a smattering of people, some are wearing devil masks, others are wearing angels. Christian pulls me closer. Any closer and we’d meld together.
People part as we walk through, like a god among his people.
It’s silent as we approach the effigy and our previous conversation stops. Christian’s posture goes rigid. “Stay close.”
Masked people fill in behind us pushing us closer to the effigy. It was made of bramble and hay and the base had already been lined with offerings.
Clouds pass over the sky blocking the moon, and the area descends into a hushed blanket of night. To my right a skinny woman with matted hair and a black papier-mâché mask waves at me. The mask bares an eerie resemblance to a burnt face. Ahead, a man climbs the stairs to a wooden platform. Beside him is Chloe, two other unnamed people, and Kieran.
The sight of him sends dread coasting along my spine. He looks like the human version of Death, ready to tear apart bodies and steal their souls.
“Every year, this is our sacred tradition, one that was created by our many founders of old and new.” The mayor laments across the hoard of people.
The crowd cheers.
I study Christian, his impenetrable skull mask remains grim.
“Tonight, we have someone who has willingly decided to be our bearer of the torch.” His voice is deep and carries across the few, all eager to see the Devil in flames. “Dr. Lazarus, if you will.”
Kieran retrieves a torch and stands before the effigy.
“We are happy to have the Lazarus heir involved in our traditional ceremonies.” The mayor eases out the words and a low murmur cascades across the crowd. “I ask that the Bishop come forth so we can begin with the prayer.”
A forty-something man walks across the platform wearing dark red liturgical vestments.
“Please bow your head for the blessing,” the Bishop requests. As heads bow with his command, I notice the woman is still staring at me and quickly bow my head to avoid her empty eyes.
“We pray to you,
O’ Lord From the depths of hell we ask that you quell the herd
Of snakes, of vipers, of evil men
Be our protection as we use the Devil’s own weapon against thyself
Allow this fire to purify the souls and save them from descent to the pitiless shelf
We ask this through you O’Lord
Amen.”
