“Hello?  Chief McPhereson?  I have something to tell you.  It’s about Peter and the case.”
 “Okay, Lucy.  Let me get a pen and some paper and I’ll be right with you.  I’m ready,” said Jon as he sat down on the desk and waved to Alex Phillips as Alex went out to his truck to head to Murbrook.
 “I had the weirdest dream just now and it caused me to remember something that Peter was talking about before he died.”
 “Okay.”
 “He spent a lot of time on the teacher’s side of the school working on some sort of project.  He used to talk about mailing letters to someone that was an expert on something or other, I have no idea on what.  He never really went in depth as to what he was doing, but I did see a letter that he had to mail and it was going to a Tomas Nolond at some sort of correctional facility.  Anyway, Peter began to do a lot of research on the school, he would ask the older teachers when the school was built, local history, and other things like that.  I just put it off as some sort of project he had to do for science but then he started to spend a lot of time in the basement with Mary Jane Raulson.  I thought there was something going on behind my back but he said it was something about architecture.”
 “The basement…that’s where Edgar and Agent Christenson thought they saw Peter and that’s also where Agent Coles and my brother found those weird markings.”
 “Yeah, I know.  In my dream Peter and I were walking through the school and we came to the door to the basement and he mentioned something about being sorry and always being with me no matter what happened and then he disappeared.”
 “That is very interesting…  I’ll get Edgar and Agent Christenson and we’ll go…Lucy?  Lucy?  Lucy are you there?” asked Jon as he heard the line click and then break off.  Only a steady dial tone remained on the line.
 “Who were you talking to, Jon,” asked Edgar as he walked into the police station carrying the letters Ellen Morris had given him.  His eyes were dark and cold and his hand trembled slightly as he thought about the name on the envelopes…Tomas Nolond…the self proclaimed savior…
 “Lucy Walter,” replied Jon after a pause.
 “What was she calling about?  Is something wrong?” asked Edgar as he placed the letters on the desk beside Jon.
 “She was talking about a project that Peter was working on about the history of the school. He spent a lot of time in the basement where Damian and Shawn found those writings and where you and Roger thought you saw Peter.  He had also been in contact with a Tomas Nolond.”
 “I know.”
 “You know?”
 “Yes.  Ellen Morris called me at home tonight and I went over there to see what was up with her and the rest of the family.  She ended up finding a locked chest under Peter’s bed and there were letters from Tomas Nolond and this book about an old religion concerning a creature named Holthaa.”
 “Holthaa?”
 “That’s what it says. I haven’t read it yet, mainly because it’s in a highly stylized old version of Latin that’s probably been dead for some time; it’ll take time to translate.  You don’t look good, Jon.  What’s wrong?”
 “Shawn, Ricky, and Anna have all turned up missing.  I sent Officer Rogers down there because Anna's mom called and said she wasn’t home yet and he traced the route that Shawn would have taken.  He didn’t see the car anywhere and the Johnson driveway was covered in broken glass.  Also, when I was talking to Lucy on the phone our conversation was broken off like someone cut the phone line.”
 “I’m sure your brother is okay.”
 “Yeah, that’s what Damian said…Oh God!”
 “What? Did Damian have anything important to say?”
 “No.  He just told me to keep an eye on Lucy Walter; she might be the next victim. I was going to have Officer Rogers do it but he’s practically on Lake Claire over at Anna’s.  We have to go.”
 “Let’s go then. I’ll drive,” said Edgar as the two men ran out of the station.

 Lucy looked at her phone curiously.  She had heard the faint click and then the dial tone but she did not know what might have caused it.  Her phone had been working earlier in the day and she figured that the police station might have had a bad connection or something.  She picked her phone back up and started to dial, until she realized that her phone was dead.  Lucy glanced around her room nervously, obviously something was going on in her house.  She tried her light, but it did not turn on.  She thought about what happened to Peter and the images in her dream.  Swallowing her fear, Lucy got out of bed and opened her door a crack.  The house was abnormally dark and the creak of the old boards in her house seemed louder than they usually were.  Lucy tiptoed over to the stairway and looked down.  The nearest phone was downstairs in the kitchen and she knew that she had to get there as soon as possible.
 Lucy looked around her as she walked down the stairs, her eyes flicking nervously from side-to-side.  Her house felt alien to her, as if she had never lived in it before.  There was a strange smell permeating the house and the creaking had disappeared and been replaced by a whisper of something that sounded like children crying.  Lucy gasped in pain as she stubbed her toe on the dining room table and then muttered another groan of pain as she walked into the wall.  Lucy entered the kitchen, she could feel the cool linoleum floor underneath her bare feet.  The digital clock above the stove was blinking twelve at her, its soft blue light illuminating the kitchen.  Lucy reached for the phone and then snatched her hand back quickly.
 Padding closer to the light she looked at her hand, it was slick and wet.  She raised her hand to her face and sniffed the liquid-it smelled of death.  Lucy turned around, her eyes centering on the phone and then slowly following down the wall.  Her brother, Mark lay next to the phone clutching his side, a sharp knife lay next to him.  Lucy gasped and took a step back, bumping into the refrigerator.  She heard a footstep and turned to her left to see her father pull himself up off the floor.  His face was sweating profusely as he stood up.  His left arm was sliced open and bleeding onto the floor and there was a sharp cut on his left breast.
 Joseph Walter looked at the daughter he had never wanted and then down at the son he had loved.  Mark was pulling himself up, his hand falling away from his side to reveal a thin white scar.  He looked at his father and then followed his sight of vision to where Lucy stood up against the refrigerator breathing heavily.  Mark reached down and grabbed the knife that had his father’s blood on it.  He grinned maliciously at Lucy and ran his tongue across the side of the knife.
 Joseph Walter coughed, blood spewing forth onto the kitchen table.  He then turned and faced his son, “I should have cut all your damned throats,” he said hoarsely.
 “What a thing to say, father!  Especially to your favored children!  Weren’t we supposed to be your messengers?  The new prophets of God?” mocked Mark.
 “Mark?  Father?  What…what…” gasped Lucy.
 Joseph Walter looked at his only daughter, his wife’s favorite child.  “Lucy!  Run!” he roared as he threw himself at Mark.
 Lucy turned and ran, not looking behind her as she heard Mark cursing and then a loud thump as father and son fell to the floor.  She ran toward the front door and opened it only to see Matthew, John, and Luke standing in the driveway.  “Going somewhere, sister dear?” asked John as he walked up to the front steps.
 “What the hell are you doing?” demanded Lucy.
 “We’re the new prophets, sister.  Of course we’re not the prophets of Father’s god but we’re prophets nonetheless,” said Jon cheerily.
 “What about father?”
 “He’s…an anachronism.  He should be proud, though.  He’s part of something totally new, something that will change the scope of the world and bring religion back to the people.  We are realizing father’s dream, Lucy.  It’s just too bad you won’t be able to.  Right, Mark?” said John as he looked past Lucy and watched his younger brother emerge from the shadows of the house.
 “He’s dead,” Mark shrugged as he walked out the door.  “The old man is tougher than he looks.  He hit me off the head, knocked us both out when we fell to the floor.  Thanks, Lucy.  You helped me wake up and finish off the old man.”  Mark raised his knife and glanced at his brothers suggestively.  Lucy cringed as John grinned at Mark.
 “No!  You can’t.  She hasn’t done anything wrong,” shouted Luke.
 “So?” asked Mark and John simultaneously.
 “Luke’s right,” rumbled the previously silent Matthew.  Mark and John turned to the eldest brother with shocked expressions on their faces.  “Leave the girl alone.  She hasn’t done anything…yet.  We’ll take care of her later on if we need to, if she behaves then she’ll be set free when HE arises.  HE will know what to do with her.”
 “As you say,” grumbled John submissively.
 “Your decision,” muttered Mark.
 “I’ll make a concession to the two of you.  If the girl acts up at all you have my permission to kill her.  Now, let’s handle the Reverend Walter.  Luke, take her to the car and lock her in the trunk and Luke…”
 “Yes, Matthew?”
 “Remember what I told you earlier, your dedication to our cause has been lacking lately.  Remember where your loyalty lies and the cause that you’re fighting for.”
 “I remember, Matthew.”
 “Good.  Now do it and come back here.  We’re losing time.”
 
 Edgar and Jon drove quickly up Main Street and onto Prescott Road where the Walter church and residence was located.  Neither man spoke, as each caught up with his own worries and anxieties about what was happening.  Jon focused on his younger brother.  Shawn had always outstripped his older brother in intelligence and in the Academy but Jon was not resentful.  Rather, he was proud of his brother’s accomplishments and hoped that Shawn would eventually find his way out of Danford and into the FBI, a dream that both men had had.  Their father had been FBI and he had served ten years in the Bureau before he had been killed in a routine case.  Neither brother knew why their father had been killed and any information their mother had was kept silent ever since she got the phone call.
 Edgar thought about Tomas Nolond.  It had been ten…no eleven years since he had last met Tomas Nolond and watched him go to jail for the rest of his natural life.  Tomas proclaimed himself a savior, the FBI and CIA proclaimed him a religious fanatic that was willing to kill to get his message across.  Of course no one quite knew what his message was and it was decided by the bureaucracy that a CIA agent should be sent into Nolond’s cult to find out what was really going on.  Edgar, or Edward as he was known back then, was the ideal man for the job.  Smart, intuitive, and young, Edward Jax would be the one to go, new wife be damned.  Edward had tried to fight going, saying that his wife was with child and would give birth soon but Tomas Nolond was a ‘higher priority.’
 Edward had gone reluctantly but the bureaucracy had been right, Edward Jax was the right man for the job as he was quickly inducted into Nolond’s group.  Edward was able to gather information about what Nolond was trying to do and what his goal was.  Unlike many other religious fanatics, Nolond was not striving for something but was striving against something.  According to Nolond, there was some sort of ancient dark god called Holthaa that a cult was trying to resurrect.  At the thought of Holthaa in his recollections, Edgar as he was known now, turned the car quickly to the side.
 “What are you doing?  We have to get to Lucy’s house now,” demanded Jon.
 “I just remembered something.  Holthaa, that name I told you about from the book, is the name of an ancient god that ruled a long time ago.  Tomas Nolond led a faction against the cult that was trying to resurrect Holthaa.”
 “How do you know all this?”
 Edgar’s brow furrowed as he realized that he had been talking about his former life, a life that no one but Damian knew about.  Edgar thought for a few minutes and then made a decision, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Jon.  My real name is Edward Jax and I am an ex-CIA operative.  My last case was to infiltrate Tomas Nolond’s organization and to find out everything I could.  Nolond was regarded as a major threat to American domesticity and after my reports he was placed as the highest priority.  The CIA and the FBI eventually did a bust on his group and most of his followers were killed or arrested.  Tomas, however, disappeared from his complex and a manhunt was put into effect.  We found him two days later with my wife in his custody.  He had found out who had betrayed him and had gone to my house and taken my wife.  He crucified her…” choked Edgar as all of his memories flooded back to him.
 Jon placed a hand on Edgar’s shoulder and waited as Edgar collected himself.  She was with child at the time, started Edgar again.  “I tried to get out of the mission but the CIA wouldn’t let me.  We found Tomas in a small church two towns over, my wife was on a large cross church…she was still alive.  Damian was with me at the time, he was the FBI agent assigned to the case.  He prevented Tomas from killing me by shooting Tomas as he shot me.  I was shot in the arm and Damian shot Tomas in the shoulder and restrained him.  He then took Maria off the cross and called in an ambulance.  I couldn’t do anything except hold Maria.  Maria eventually died in the hospital giving birth to our baby, she had been savagely beaten even before Tomas crucified her and our young child was delivered stillborn.  I couldn’t bear working for the CIA after what happened and I quit.  I spent two years wandering the United States, depressed.  I eventually came to Danford and applied to the open vacancy for the principal of the high school.”
 “So Tomas Nolond is connected to the case?” asked Jon.
 “I believe so and I think Damian does as well.  He was connected to Peter Morris and the incidents that have been taking place are of a supernatural nature which is right up Tomas’ alley.”
 “I’m finding this all hard to believe.  I understand what you went through and I think Tomas Nolond should be killed for what he did, but come on this is getting ridiculous.  Ancient dark gods?  Human sacrifice?  Resurrections?  This reads like a bad science fiction murder mystery.  I know you, Damian, and my brother are all into this stuff but I have a hard time believing any of this.”
 “I know it’s hard but you’ve got to trust me, Jon.  Something’s happening here and I have a feeling that all we’re seeing is just the tip of the iceberg.  Hopefully you’re right and all we’re facing is a crazed religious maniac.”
 “And if I’m wrong?” asked Jon.
 “Then we’re in some serious trouble…  Now, lets get to the Walter home,” said Edgar as he straightened up and restarted the car.
 The Walter house and church was built in the eighteen hundreds.  Joseph Walter had moved in there with his wife twenty-eight years ago and had developed a fairly loyal following in Danford and Murbrook.  He was a conservative with some fairly reactionary views on life and followed the Bible by the letter.  He was also a preacher and quickly became known for his speeches against sin on the steps of town hall every Saturday.  His house was nice and neat and there were trees lining the front of his yard.  Mary Walter had been interested in gardening and her yard was perfectly manicured.  Their church reflected the same neatness but with more sterility than the house.  Now, however, the church looked far different than it had before.  Edgar and Jon got out of the car and stared at the front of the church.  A body was crucified to the cross on the church, wrapped in leather bandages.  It looked similar to the Morris body except the face was not removed and Joseph Walter’s eyes stared blankly down at the two men.
 “Jesus Christ…” muttered Jon as he stared up at the body.
 “I don’t think he would have approved of this,” replied Edgar.  “Do you have a radio on you?”
 “Yeah.  Why?” asked Jon, his attention still captured by the body.
 “Call an ambulance, let’s see if we can get the body down before daylight.  The people know something’s up, let’s not send them into a panic with something like this.”
 “Smart thinking,” said Jon as he unhooked his radio and placed a call to an ambulance.
 Edgar’s eyes scanned the front of the church.  The perpetrators knew that they would not have as much time as they had had before, as the bandages were not as tightly wrapped as they were around Peter Morris’ body.  The body had not been drained of blood as well as Peter’s body as blood dripped down to the steps of the church.  This, thought Edgar, was a strong-arm tactic to scare people.  Whoever was behind this was trying to establish a certain ruthlessness to the authorities, stating that they would not be stopped and that anyone that stood in their way would be quickly eliminated.  Jon walked up to him and stared at the body, his eyes also following the dripping blood down the front of the church to the steps.  Jon started to walk up the stairs to get a closer look when he looked down and saw something.
 “Edgar, there’s something here,” he said excitedly.
 “What is it?” asked Edgar quizzically.
 “I don’t know but the blood’s arranged in some way and there’s a waxy substance on the landing.  I can’t make it out though…”
 Edgar came up to where Jon stood and looked down at the landing as well.  “I think we’re too close to it and that’s why we can’t see anything.  If we moved to a higher…  Stay here.  I’m going to go up to the bell tower and see if I can see what it is.”
 “Okay.”
 Edgar ran into the church being careful to avoid stepping in any blood.  He entered the dark church and smelled dried roses and incense.  The altar was decorated with roses from people who had placed them there for Peter’s soul.  Edgar’s ears pricked up as he heard a faint whisper of sound like a child crying.  The sound moved all around him and finally settled behind the door to the bell tower.  Edgar cautiously approached the door and pushed it open.  A dusty smelling darkness greeted him and rickety wooden stairs led up to the top spire of the church.  The sound floated up the stairs and then waited, beckoning Edgar to follow it.  Edgar climbed the stairs carefully, following the sound that seemed to be just beyond his hearing.  It was an insistent sound, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.  It was not loud but settled just above his sense of hearing and it sent shivers up his spine and through his body.
 The sound stopped when Edgar reached the top of the tower.  Pale moonlight streamed through the tower and reflected off the old bell.  Edgar glanced down and saw Jon looking up at the sky.  “Dear Lord,” he said softly and then yelling down to Jon.  “I can see it.  It’s the symbol, the one in the pictures that your brother and Damian took in the basement of the school.”
 “How big is it,” yelled back Jon.
 “It covers the…” Edgar paused and squinted out toward Lake Claire.  “Jon is anyone out on Lake Claire tonight?”
 “Not that I know of, why?”
 “There’s a large bonfire on one of the islands out there.  I can see its reflection on the water.  Call Officer Rogers and tell him to get a boat out there.  It’s the third island out.  I’m coming down now.”

 “Ricky?  Ricky, are you okay?”  Ricky opened his eyes slowly and stared up at Anna’s face.
 He jumped, “Wha…What’s going on?  Where am I?”
 “You’re okay,” soothed Anna as she wiped a damp cloth on his forehead.
 “You had us worried for a minute or two though,” said Shawn as he came into Ricky’s sight.
 “What happened?” asked Ricky as he tried to sit up but Anna restrained him gently.
 “You ran off into the woods after you cleared off that altar,” said Shawn.  “We followed you but you were mumbling something about us killing you.  It didn’t really make any sense but we didn’t want you to hurt yourself.  Unfortunately we couldn’t keep you from braining yourself on a tree branch,” said Shawn with an easy smile.
 “You’ve got to stop getting hit in the head,” admonished Anna with a gentle smile.
 “I’ll try to avoid it,” replied Ricky weakly.   “I see you’ve gotten the bonfire started.  Has anyone been sent for us?”
 “Not yet, but I’m sure that someone will see it and we’ll be rescued,” said Shawn.
 “Let’s just hope it’s the right people,” Anna sighed bitterly.
 “Did you two see the altar?” asked Ricky.
 “Yeah we saw it,” said Shawn quietly.
 “Do you know what its doing out here?” asked Anna, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.
 “It’s definitely for sacrifice,” said Ricky.  “The carving on the side of the altar gave me that impression and there were holes on the sides of the altar and the top was carved into a bowl.  My best guess is that a body was split open and the blood was pooled into the basin and then came out of the holes in the sides.  I would have to say that they drank the blood, or at least that’s what the carving was showing.”
 “You should rest some more, Ricky, and stop talking so much,” said Anna.  “You can talk some more when we get off the island.”
 “Okay.”
 Shawn waited until Ricky fell asleep.  “Is he going to be okay?”
 “I have no idea, Shawn.  I’m not a doctor, as a matter of fact I don’t even know if what I’m doing is the right thing to do at all.”
 “You’re doing fine and you do have some medical training,” replied Shawn.
 “Yeah with horses, Shawn.  Horses are not the same as humans.  We still need to get him to a hospital and as fast as possible.”
 “Well, we’ve done everything that we can do all we have to do is sit here and wait.”
 “We might not have to wait that long, actually,” said Anna, her face brightening as she heard the sound of a gas motorboat.
 Shawn looked up and saw a searchlight heading towards them, a warm smile broke on his face as he saw Officer Rogers piloting the police boat towards the shore.  “Shawn?  Is that you?”
 “Yeah.  Anna and Ricky are here as well.  I’m sure happy to see you, Adam,” said Shawn as grabbed the rope that Officer Rogers threw to him.
 “How long have you been here for?” asked Adam Rogers as he jumped off the boat and waded onto shore.
 “A day or so.  I don’t know how we got here or at what time but we’ve been here all last night and all day today.  I gather you saw our signal fire.”
 “Not me personally, but Edgar Jackson saw the fire from the church bell tower.”
 “What was he doing up there?”
 “I don’t know but from what your brother was telling me, something was going on at the Walter house and church and Edgar and Jon went to check it out.  I don’t know why Edgar was in the bell tower though.”
 “Well, I’m just glad he was,” said Anna as she walked up to the two men.  “You’re going to have to help Ricky into the boat, I don’t think he’s in any condition to walk.”
 Shawn turned to Adam Rogers.  “Call an ambulance and have them meet us on shore.  We’re going to get Ricky into the boat.”
 “Okay, Shawn,” said Adam as he started the boat up.

 Ranger Phillips drove to the morgue in Murbrook at the first break of dawn.  He hadn’t heard from Roger, Jon, or Edgar at all and he figured that things must be going smoothly at Danford.  “Hello, Myra,” he said as he walked into the morgue.
 “Alex!  What brought you back here so soon?” asked the receptionist as she put down her files and smiled at Ranger Phillips.
 “I have some paperwork to do and the station in Danford is busy because of all the murder so I decided to come here to do my work.  How are you doing today?”
 “Fine.  How is the murder coming?  Luke Walter mentioned something about how tragic it is but he never talks about it.  I think it’s because of Lucy.”
 “Is Luke or Mark here today?”
 “Not that I know of.  They mentioned something about taking a day off and going to Lake Claire.  Actually, they go there a lot for some reason.  I think I overheard them talking about some cabin they were planning on buying on the lake.  It would be an improvement over their current conditions with their father.  Have you heard about their wonderful idea to educate the children?” asked Myra brightly.
 “Wonderful idea?”
 “Well they haven’t come right and said it, but they spend a lot of time with a youth group at their church.  I think their father might have put them up to it but they are making the most of it and in the end it benefits the children and that’s really all that matters,” said Myra.
 “Yes.  Children should come first.  How’d you hear about this?”
 “Oh, they were talking about taking a group out to Lake Claire for some religious movement or something like that.  I assumed that it was their church group that they were taking out.”
 “I see,” replied Alex thoughtfully.  “Well, the world needs citizens like the Walter boys.  I’ll be on the conference room, okay?”
 “Okay, Alex,” replied Myra with a smile.
 Alex Phillips walked into the conference room and slowly closed the door behind him.  He put his folders on the table and went back to the window, looking at Myra’s desk.  He waited until Myra got up and disappeared into the women’s bathroom and then he eased out of the room and down the hallway into the morgue area.  Alex knew the location of Peter’s body because he had been one of the men to drop it off and he headed to the back corner of the morgue quickly.  Stopping to look around, he slowly opened the metal door and pulled out the body of Peter Morris.
 The face was still missing; there really was no polite way to restitch a face back on to a body and still make it presentable.  Peter’s face had also been damaged when it had been placed in the locker, there were holes in the lips where the nails had been driven through and the eye sockets had been stretched out from the glass beads placed in them.  Alex swallowed his revulsion and pulled the sheet back.  Peter Morris’ body lay in calm repose, his body had yellowed with time but there were no major markings on the body.  Alex checked Peter’s arms and legs when he felt something unnatural on the left wrist.
 Alex flipped the wrist over and found himself staring at the symbol that Shawn and Damian had found in the basement.  He ran his finger gently over the mark.  It had been carved into the wrist before Peter had died; Alex could tell from the scar tissue on the arm.  Alex finished his investigation but could not find any other marking on Peter’s body.  He turned around only to come face to face with Luke Walter.
 “Can I help you, Ranger Phillips?” asked Luke.
 Alex stared at his own reflection in Luke’s glasses.  Luke’s steel gray eyes pierced into his own eyes.  Alex cleared his throat, “Actually, yes you can.  I need you to sign off a poaching incident.”
 “Isn’t that usually the prerogative of the Fish and Game warden?”
 “Yes it is but Jack’s on vacation this week and the government has some new kids enforcing the laws so we need to get poaching violations in as soon as possible.  Something about wildlife conservation but then that’s what happens when hippies have kids.”
 “I see,” said Luke as he stared at Alex.  “And this meant that you had to come into the morgue?  You could have left a message with Myra.”
 “I asked her where you were and she didn’t know, but then you know Myra. She doesn’t pay attention to a whole hell of a lot.”
 “Yes,” replied Luke dispassionately.  “Myra can be quite absent minded at times.”
 “Is Mark here?” asked Alex, fidgeting under Luke’s cold stare even though he was twenty-three years his senior.
 “Yes, he’s around somewhere,” said Luke.  His cold demeanor slid off his face as he turned his head to look out the glass window in the door.  He came closer to Alex and grabbed the front of his shirt.  “HE’s coming Alex.  You have to stop them.  They’ve almost got all of it figured out.”
 “Who?” asked Alex urgently.
 “My brothers.  Stop them.  For the love of god…”
 “Ranger Phillips!” bellowed Mark cheerfully as he entered the morgue.  “How are you?  Wait am I interrupting something here?”
 Alex looked at Luke as he started to sweat, he mouthed “Help me” and then louder, “Yes.  Now you ruined my chance to go on a camping trip with one of the best hunters in New England.”
 “Ahh…wanted to bag the big one?” said Mark as he walked up to the two men.
 “Well, considering the rest of the family never go the big one, I figure that I’d have a better chance.  Especially considering that Ranger Phillips would be my hunting partner.”
 “Well,” stammered Alex.  “We can head out this weekend, I suppose.  What is the ‘big one’ though?  That will help in deciding where to go.”
 Luke quickly reached behind him and grabbed a piece of paper that was lying on his desk.  Behind his back he began to write a quick note and then he flipped the paper over and signed it.  “I’ll tell you about it later, Alex.  I need to see what my schedule looks like for next weekend anyway.  Here’s that paper you needed, good luck catching the poachers.”
 “Thanks Luke.  You two gentlemen have a good day,” said Alex as he walked out of the room with an unpleasant feeling settling between his shoulder blades.  He quickly walked to the conference room and grabbed the rest of his papers, then with a quick nod to Myra he left the morgue and drove back to Danford, his mind filled with dread.

 “Roger?  Roger where the hell are you?” said Edgar as he walked into the dark hotel room.  No one had heard from Roger Christenson for the past day.  They had tried calling his room but no one had picked up the phone and not even the hotel manger had seen him since Edgar had dropped him off the night before.  Edgar flipped on the light switch and saw Roger’s bed still made.  He walked further into the room until he tripped on something on the floor.  Looking down Edgar saw Roger lying prone on the floor.
 “Roger?  Roger?” said Edgar as he leaned down and shook the young man.
 “Ungh…”
 “Shit,” muttered Edgar as he reached for the phone to call yet another ambulance…

 Roger woke up in a small dark room.  He looked down at his stomach and breathed a sigh of relief it had been a dream.  He looked around but he couldn’t make anything out in the darkness.  Roger breathed in he could smell water and by straining his ears he could hear the lap of water against rocks.  He was laying on a wooden bench and he could feel a soft cool wind coming from somewhere to the right of him.  He felt alongside the bench and felt a wooden wall where the bench was attached.  His wrists and ankles still ached from when he had been strung up above the altar, which was odd, because it had been a dream.  Roger stood up and flinched as a blinding light filled the room.
 Roger opened his eyes and stared out into a vast sea.  He was on a rocky shore somewhere.  He turned around and saw trees extending high into the sky.  The wind carried a strange sound to his ears and he felt his curiosity rise up.  Roger began to walk into the forest, admiring the old trees but he felt a cold chill, like he did not belong in this forest.  Roger saw a break of light in the trees and hurried to it, the coolness and darkness under the trees spreading deep into his soul.
 Roger crested the small hill and gasped as he stared down into a small bowl in the middle of the clearing.  A small child was strung up between four trees.  He had been gutted just like in Roger’s dream and there were three figures in black robes surrounding a large black altar.  The altar was even larger than the one in his dream and was elaborately decorated with carvings of previous sacrifices.  Roger stared at the altar and saw two eyes carved into the altar that pierced deep into his soul.  He swallowed nervously and scanned the rest of the area, he knew that if he stared anymore at those eyes he would lose his soul.  The figures were arranged in a circle and large silvery bowls were in front of them.  Spigots came out of the altar and blood poured forth into each bowl.  All of the figures kneeled prostrate before the altar, chanting in some strange language.
 Roger suddenly heard something that did not belong in this place, sounds of children crying.  Roger looked to his left and saw a small cage where two more children were kept.  Their clothes were torn and ripped and looked different from any clothes that Roger had seen.  There were no zippers or buttonholes on their clothes and they looked to be of sturdier construction than any clothes that Roger had seen.  Roger looked back to the altar and saw one of the figures look up.  The figure wore a bone white mask with three horns that protruded up, two from the temples and one from the forehead, blood dripped down from each horn.  The eyes were a dark violet color and a symbol hung from the neck of the figure.  The figure glared at Roger and with an evil grin raised the bowl of blood to its lips.  Roger watched with revulsion as it drank the whole thing down.
 All three figures then rose and bellowed in a hollow voice, “Holthaa!”
 Roger stumbled back, rolling down the small hill until he hit a tree.  A deep rumbling from deep inside the earth shook Roger and he covered his head as branches began to fall all around him.  Just as quickly as the rumbling started, it stopped.  Roger looked up and felt the sun rays turn sickly and cold.  A shadow fell over him and he looked back down to see a large figure stand in front of him.  The sun’s rays barely pierced through him, as if he were almost insubstantial.  Blood dripped from his hands and three symbols dangled in his left fist.  Roger felt cold as the being reached down and grabbed him.  Deep within his mind he could hear his name echoing, bouncing, until it echoed into nothingness.

 Tomas Nolond stood in his cell, tapping a letter against his cheek.  It was postmarked from Peter Morris and Tomas had managed to hide it from the guards, the warden, even the FBI.  He walked over to the small narrow window high in the wall, it was the only light he got in the room.  Tomas looked up at the moon and sighed.  He needed to talk to Damian Coles, Peter was dead and now Damian was the only one who had any idea of what was going on.  Tomas sighed again and whispered softly into the night,” And so it begins again.”