Because of the chilly weather, they didn't expect a party. Still, they were relieved not to see a small group of locals swigging bottles of alcohol and sharing a joint.
At the far end of the clearing, Conner searched the edge of the woodland for the wide, tall old tree. Believing he spotted it, his heart thumped. He whispered, "I think that might be it."
"Looks like it," Adam said.
The tree beckoned to them like the torch of a lighthouse to a boat lost at sea. Setting out quickly through the field, they waded through the tall grass, which brushed against their jeans like stiff hay. The ground nearly frozen, it felt like walking on uneven concrete. But it was the wind Conner couldn't stand. It whipped against his face like a frigid slap of the hand.
Emerging from the field, they stopped at the edge of forest and studied the tree. The four symbols carved into the bark were barely visible. The gap at the bottom where the snake had slithered inside, seemed to mock them like parted lips. Oh, you're here again.
Conner readied his bottles of gasoline. "Let's get this over with."
"Wait," Trevor said. "I want to see what the symbols are."
Adam clicked on the flashlight and directed its beam onto the first etching. It resembled a small mountain or hill.
"The soil," Trevor said. "That's gotta be the mound of dirt. What did Stella say? Earth. Mother Nature, right?"
"Yeah," Conner replied. "The next one is"—squinting at the marking, it appeared to be a drop of water—um . . . oh! It's a drop of blood. That's the blood. She said something about spilling of blood."
The third symbol was clearly the rendering of a snake.
And the fourth . . .
Adam knelt at the base of the tree. His eyes fixed on the symbol, he muttered, "I don't know. What the hell is that?"
"Beats me," Conner said. "It looks like a snowflake to me."
"It can't be," Trevor replied, crouching next to Adam. "Why would it be a snowflake? It has to be something else."
"Does it matter?" Conner asked.
"I guess not. But it's not a snowflake."
"C'est un portail," a male voice said.
Startled, Conner wobbled off balance, dropping one of his water bottles as Adam and Trevor jumped to their feet.
It was the man responsible for Jared's torture and death.
His sudden appearance had certainly frightened Conner. But it was the gun in his hand that scared him the most.
"C'est un portail," the man repeated. "A portal."
When Adam stepped forward, the man aimed the gun. "It will only take one shot in the head to kill you." He approached the three. "I can't believe you idiots were stupid enough to come back here." He glanced around. "Where's your friend? Was he smart enough not to come?"
Conner grimaced. "Screw you."
"Why are you guys here? You wanted to see something magical happen?" He lowered the gun to his side and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Hey, Papa. What should we do with these idiots?"
So it was true. The man actually believed a ritual would resurrect his demon-father from the netherworld.
He flippantly waved the gun at the three like it was more of a prop than a weapon. "Sit down."
Conner sat his butt on the ground, exchanging worried glances with his buddies. They looked as nervous as he felt. He retuned his gaze to the man. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure." The man squatted, aiming the gun at the three one by one. "I've been checking the tree for a month or so, but I never expected to actually find you here. I would have brought some rope or something so I could tie you to the tree . . . let Papa do what he wants with you."
"Your papa?" Trevor scoffed. "You really think a demon is your father? And he's coming back because you cast some spell?"
The man grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth in the moonlight. "You don't know how these things work. You must believe it, though. You guys came back here for a reason. So why are you here?"
When no one responded, the man stood and gestured to Adam. "Get your ass over here. Or I'll shoot each one of you."
Conner gripped the sleeve of Adam's coat, but Adam stood.
"Get over here," the man ordered. Once Adam was in front of him, he calmly said, "Turn around and get on your knees."
Adam obeyed, looking at his friends with fearful, watery eyes.
The man pointed the gun at the back of Adam's head. "Okay. Now, I need a volunteer. Or do I have to pick?"
"What?" Conner asked. "What do you want us to do?"
"I want you to go to the tree."
The muscles in Conner's upper back spasmed in response, tying his nerves in an aching knot. He rose to his feet and walked to the tree while keeping his eye on Adam. "Now what?"
"Put your hand inside that hole at the bottom."
"What?"
"You heard me!" the man shouted. "You're going to see if the snake is still in there. I checked a few nights ago, and it wasn't too happy about being disturbed."
"What the hell?"
"Snakes usually hibernate during winter. Stick your hand in and see if it's still in there."
"But—" Conner flinched at the loud click of the gun being cocked. "What if it's not?"
"Just stick your hand in. If you piss it off, you better be real quick. Otherwise, you might die from a rattler bite." He tapped the gun on the crown of Adam's head. "If you're lucky, you'll pull out snakeskin."
Any fear Conner had experienced in his life paled in comparison to that moment. A terror throbbed within him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to break down in tears or vomit. His hand
