“So how does this work?” asked Hannah.
“Last time, I just thought really hard that we needed to escape.” Damien licked at his dry lips. “This time I’m going to think really hard that we need help.”
Harry and Hannah nodded. Without being asked, they closed their eyes. It seemed like the obvious thing to do, so Damien did the same.
He gripped each of their hands tightly and strained his thoughts until his brain ached. Please send help. Whoever is out there, help us, please.
There was a moment where it seemed like nothing was happening, but he’d experienced that before. He kept on concentrating, and waiting.
Nancy’s voice piped up behind him. “Um, guys, I think you better open your eyes.”
Damien opened his eyes last because Harry and Hannah were already staring over their shoulders when he looked at them. A gate had appeared on the rooftop, shimmering in the dusky twilight. They had done it.
“You sure that wasn’t all you?” Hannah asked.
“I’m sure,” said Damien. “I’ve tried to open a gate on my own before and it never worked. For weeks, I’ve been trying. It hasn’t worked until now.”
“Okay,” said Harry. “We’ve opened another gate, but last time we needed one to escape. What’s the point of it this time?”
“We asked for help,” said Damien.
“Gates don’t bring help, Damien. They bring demons.”
As if insulted, the gate flickered and shimmered. A shadows formed in its centre, a figure wide and tall. Perhaps too tall to be human.
The thing that stepped out of the gate didn’t look like help at all, and when its back exploded into a massive span of jet-black wings, Damien was sure they had made a grave mistake. This thing could not be there to help humanity.
“W-Who are you?” Damien asked, terrified to his core.
The creature stood tall, seven-foot at least. Its wings continued unfurling, casting a deep shadow over them all. It was naked, but for a loin cloth, and obviously male.
Its swirling black eyes peered at Damien, seeming to search out his soul so that it could be devoured. It spoke in a bone rattling baritone. “I am The Defiler. Exalted of demonkind.” The creatures voice then rose towards a more human tone and a smile crossed its flawless face. “You may call me Sorrow.” Those huge black wings suddenly retracted, as if they had never even been there, and in the newly revealed space stood a short, teenaged girl. “This is my ward, Scarlet.”
The young girl grinned awkwardly and waved a hand. “Hi! We’re here to help.” She then bent slightly and clutched her midsection. “Urgh, do you have a toilet. I’m really bursting.”
Damien looked back at Nancy who seemed as lost as he was. So this was what help looked like?
Damien shrugged. I guess we’ll take it.
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Iain Rob Wright is one of the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.
His work is currently being adapted for graphic novels, audio books, and foreign audiences. He is an active member of the Horror Writer Association and a massive animal lover.
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Copyright © 2018 by Iain Rob Wright
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Artwork by Books Covered Ltd
Editing by Autumn Speckhardt
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