Erik and Mark knocked on Dovecrest’s door, but there was no answer.
“Maybe he’s around back,” the pastor said.
The back of Dovecrest’s place butted directly against the deepest woods, and with only the light from inside his living room shining out, it was as dark as pitch. Mark took a small flashlight from his pocket and guided them around to the back.
The back door was open and swinging gently on its hinges in the breeze.
“That seems strange,” Erik said, and poked his head inside. “Why would he leave the door open?”
They called Dovecrest’s name and were debating whether or not to go inside when they heard the first gunshot. It was quickly followed by a second, a third, and more. The two men looked at each other and then towards the woods.
“This is probably the only place in the state where a cell phone won’t work,” Mark said. “We’d better take a look ourselves.”
Erik hoped that the pastor knew his way through the woods better than he did. Mark hurried to the edge of the woods and located a path leading in.
“I used to be a Boy Scout,” Mark said.
Tentatively, Erik followed.
The pastor’s flashlight was small but very powerful, lighting up the woods just enough so that they could follow the path. There were more gunshots, quick and in rapid succession, but it seemed that the pastor had already locked in on the sound and was heading towards it. They struggled forward through the woods for several minutes, then Mark stopped.
“Wait, I hear something.”
Erik pulled up beside him and listened. Someone was heading towards them.
“Who’s there?” Erik said.
Suddenly, Dovecrest crashed through the bushes, nearly knocking them both down. The pastor’s flashlight shone full in his face. His eyes were wider than saucers, and his brow was contorted with a look of outright terror. Erik didn’t think he had ever seen such a look of panic on a face before.
He locked his arms around Dovecrest and the two of them fell to the ground in a heap. Dovecrest struggled to get up, but Erik, with Mark’s help, held him down.
“Relax,” Mark said in his best soothing preacher’s voice. “What’s going on.”
Dovecrest struggled for a moment more, then looked at the two men as if seeing them for the first time.
“It’s…it’s gone now,” he said, finally. “It was so…awful, but it’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” Erik asked, and Dovecrest looked at him as if he were a complete idiot.
“Come on,” Pastor Mark said. “Let’s get you back home and then you can explain everything.”
Dovecrest nodded slowly. “I have to tell someone,” he said. “Even if you don’t believe me.”
2
Dovecrest allowed the two men to lead him back to his cabin. Nothing had gone according to plan, he thought, but at least he had saved the girl undue suffering. If only his aim had been a little better and he could have killed the leader. But he knew even that wouldn’t have mattered in the end. It would have just found another leader, and the girl still would have been sacrificed.
He trudged through the wood between the two men and wondered how he was going to explain it to them. They wouldn’t believe. Surely they wouldn’t believe. And when he tried to take them back to show them, all of the evidence would be gone. Or else they would think
Still, he had to try, though. He couldn’t win any other way. The demon was too powerful for him, even now, and it wasn’t even fully transformed yet. It would only become stronger with each new sacrifice, and he would be powerless to do anything to stop it.
The few hundred yards back seemed endless. His mind was still reeling from the shock he’d experienced when the thing had entered his mind. It had felt like a sharp, red-hot needle being thrust directly into his brain. The thing had taken him over completely, making him shoot the pistol harmlessly into the air while he watched the girl bleed to death on the slab. Then, when all of his ammo was gone and his mind was virtually writhing in agony, it had turned him loose, just as suddenly as it had taken him over. The thing had left one thought in his mind-that it was as easy as that for it to take control of him at any time. The message had been clear-you can go free for now, but I can have you back whenever I want you. And I can make every moment of your life a living hell.
Finally, he saw the lights of his cabin come into view and he knew he was home free, at least for now. Tomorrow would be another story. But he didn’t want to think that far ahead. All he could think of was a hot cup of steaming black coffee and sitting down at the table to unburden his soul to these two men, who probably thought he was either lying or insane, either a criminal or a maniac. But he no longer cared what they thought. The time had come to tell his story.
3
The first thing Dovecrest wanted to do was make coffee.
“That’s really not necessary,” Erik said. “We’ll be fine.”
But the Indian insisted, saying that he needed a strong cup of black coffee, so Erik tried to be patient as he sat at the kitchen table, exchanging worried looks with the pastor. Finally, Doverest placed a cup of coffee before each of them. Erik added cream and sugar, and waited for Dovecrest to sit down. Once he had, Erik slid the file with pictures of the altar stone and the accompanying story across the table to him.
Dovecrest looked at the pictures without showing any surprise, then nodded as he looked over the newspaper clipping.
“I think you know what this all means,” Erik said. “And I’d like to hear about it.”
Pastor Mark nodded. “I’m interested, too.”
Dovecrest looked back and forth from one to another, and Erik could tell from his expression that the man was having an internal struggle about what to say next.
“I don’t think you’ll believe me,” Dovecrest said.
“Just tell us what you know,” Erik replied. “At this point I think I’m ready to believe anything.”
“OK. First of all, let me begin by saying that I’m an old man.”
Mark nodded. “We’re all getting older.”
“No,” Dovecrest corrected. “I’m an
“That’s impossible…,” Erik said, and Dovecrest held up his hand.
“See, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
“OK, ok. I’m sorry. Go on with your story.”
“I was born about 350 years ago in this forest, and I became the medicine man for the tribe. Mostly I’d heal cuts and bruises, and give out herbs to women trying to have babies. There wasn’t much too it, really, until the Evil Ones came.”
“The evil ones?” Mark asked.
“Yes. The evil ones. You see, the founder of this place, Roger Williams, said that anyone could live here and worship whatever god they chose in whatever way they chose. So people from all beliefs and all faiths were drawn to this place. That’s why the Evil Ones came. So they could worship their evil god and his demons.
“Only worshipping the devil wasn’t exactly what Roger Williams had in mind. His idea of religious freedom didn’t go that far, so he drove the Evil Ones away from the city and into the forest. They came here, to this
