The harsh hospital lights glared in the small room, reflecting off the linoleum tiles.  There were no shadows in the room-everything was bare and sterile.  Five people sat in the uncomfortable, lumpy chairs.  Anna Johnson dozed quietly, her injuries had been minor and she did not need to be supervised overnight.  Principal Edgar Jackson stared at the floor, looking at his reflection.  He found that he had aged greatly over the past few days as his face was haggard and there were lines around his eyes.  Interim Chief Jon McPhereson filled out forms and reports, trying to get as much as possible done.  Ranger Alex Phillips stood by the door, gently swinging his pocket watch.  He had been the last to arrive, going straight to Tri-County Hospital as soon as he got Jon’s message.  Lita Mansfield sat trying to read through a magazine, constantly flipping through the pages trying to calm herself in some way.
 The room was quiet, and Anna’s rhythmic breathing and the sound of Jon’s pen scratching paper emphasized the silence in the room.  Finally, a doctor came into the room.  She was of average height with short blonde hair and steel grey eyes.  She was in green medical scrubs and there were circles under her eyes.  She walked over and sat down next to Anna, gently shaking the young woman awake.  “I have some good news for most of you.”
 “They’re all okay, Mrs. Raulson?” asked Anna as she sat up.
 “Not all by most of them, Anna.  Shawn is doing fine, Lita.  He can be discharged tonight in your care if you want.”
 “I’d like that very much,” replied Lita softly.  “What’s wrong with him?”
 “Amazingly, not a whole lot, especially considering what he’s been through.  He has a separated shoulder and he’ll have to wear a sling for awhile but that’s nothing major.  He doesn’t have any broken bones or a concussion but he did need stitches for the cut on his forehead.  I’m going to give you some painkillers for his shoulder and for any residual headaches he might get.  He’s on the healing path, though, and in a few days he’ll feel perfectly normal and will be bugging you to take off his sling.”
 “What about Ricky?” asked Anna shyly.
 “Ricky’s doing well.  He has a minor concussion and we’re going to keep him overnight just to monitor him and make sure he’s doing all right.  I’ve already called his mother and told her everything that’s happened.  She said that she would come down but she told me that they just released Chief Morris today and she has her hands full with him.”
 “That’s okay,” interrupted Anna.  “I’ll watch over him…if that’s okay, I mean.”
 Lita and Edgar gave Anna an odd glance and then their eyes caught.  Lita smiled and nodded, eliciting a grin from Edgar as well.  The Doctor Raulson, to her credit, didn’t smile but rather leaned forward, “That’ll be great, Anna.  Ricky could really use the company.”
 “How’s Roger doing?” asked Edgar seriously.
 Doctor Raulson sighed, “We don’t know what’s wrong with him.  His heartbeat is erratic but his blood pressure is very low and there is virtually no brain activity.  We’re definitely going to keep him until there’s a sign of some activity in his body and mind; right now he’s a vegetable.  I’m sorry, Edgar, but the best we can do is make him comfortable.”
 “Thank you,” said Edgar as he stood up and shook the doctor’s hand.  “I have to go and make a couple of phone calls.  I’ll see all of you at the station tomorrow, Jon?”
 “I’ll be there,” promised Jon.  “Good luck.”
 “Thanks.”
 Jon watched Edgar leave the room and then turned back to the doctor.  “Elizabeth, can I talk to you alone?  I have some questions I need to ask.”
 “Sure.  Anna, you and Lita can go visit Ricky and Shawn.  They’re in room 220.  When you exit this room take a left, it’s the second door on your right.”
 “I can show it to them,” said Alex.
 “No, Alex.  I need you here,” said Jon.  “You need to hear this as well and I want your opinion on some things.”
 “Okay.  I’ll do my best then.”
 “Take care of Shawn, Lita.  Tell him that his older brother’s here if he needs him,” said Jon as Lita walked out of the room.
 “I will, Jon.”
 Doctor Elizabeth Raulson waited until Lita and Anna had left the room and then she spoke, “What did you want to talk about, Jon?”
 “I want you to do an autopsy on Reverend Walter.  I know that’s usually not your job but it would be too cruel to have Luke or Mark do it.  I also need an unbiased opinion, someone that’s not connected to the case,” explained Jon.
 “You suspect the Walters?” asked Elizabeth quizzically.
 “I don’t know who to suspect but Reverend Walter was a major suspect in the case.  I know it doesn’t make much sense but…well compared to some other things I’ve been hearing about that’s the most sane thing that’s been suggested.  When you do your autopsy make sure you look for something that looks like this,” said Jon as he reached into his breast pocket and handed her the picture of the symbol.  “I don’t know where it’ll be found but it might be on his body somewhere.”
 “Actually, check under his left wrist,” interjected Alex.  “When I went over Peter Morris’ body I found the symbol under there.  It looked like it had been carved there with a knife sometime before he died.”
 “Could he have done it?” asked Elizabeth.
 “I doubt it,” replied Alex.  “The cuts are straight, usually when someone is cutting themselves, even on purpose, their aim is a little off and the cut is shaky.  That is, unless Peter had nerves of steel.”
 “Which I highly doubt,” remarked Elizabeth.  “I’ll check Reverend Walter before I get off my shift.  It usually dies down for a little while around five in the morning so I’ll have some time to do it then.”
 “Good,” said Jon.  “Anything interesting or unusual you find, no matter how benign, report to me at the station.  I’ll be there all day today.”
 “Okay, Jon.  I’ll do my best to keep all of this from the Walter boys as much as possible but I can’t guarantee anything.  Luke and Mark both have a lot of power in the medical department, especially concerning dead bodies.  By the way, what do you want me to tell them?” asked Elizabeth.
 “Just tell them that something happened to their father and he’s in critical condition right now.  Don’t let them see him under any circumstances, I can get you some officers for you to use as guards and you also have hospital security.  Tape the door down with police security tape make sure that only you have access to the body.”
 “That’s cruel, Jon,” chided Elizabeth.  “Their father is dead and you don’t want to tell them anything about it.”
 “I think it’s a good idea,” rumbled Alex as he slid a piece of paper out of a folder that he was holding.  “I went to the morgue yesterday and looked at Peter’s body.  That symbol thing was carved on his left wrist as I said and Luke wrote this down on a sheet of paper and handed it to me.”
 Jon looked at the piece of his paper, his eyes narrowing.  “Why is Luke trying to help us?”
 “I don’t know,” shrugged Alex.  “My best guess is that whatever his brother’s are doing is very wrong and someone needs to stop them.  Do you think we should follow up on it?”
 “Yes, we’ll do that on the way back from the hospital.  I’ll meet you at the school, I have to place some phone calls to make sure that Elizabeth gets some more security around here.”
 “Thank you, Jon.  Good luck, Alex,” said Elizabeth as they all stood up and left the room.

 Damian tore through the hallways of the prison.  A manila folder was under his arm and he had his cell phone pressed to his ear.  Damian was running as fast as he could, listening to Edgar Jackson’s voice explain what had happened in the past day.  “So,” gasped Damian, “Roger, Shawn, and Ricky are all in the hospital, Lucy Walter’s missing and Reverend Walter is dead?”
 “Yes.  It’s been a crazy day.  Shawn’s going to be discharged under Lita’s care, but Ricky and Roger are going to kept overnight.  The doctor told me that they’re going to keep Roger until he wakes up, unfortunately they don’t know when that is.”
 “How was Reverend Walter killed?” asked Damian as he headed towards the maximum security ward.
 “We don’t know yet.  Jon is going to have the doctor do an autopsy on the body.  I believe that it was from blood loss, though.  He was found hanging in the same position as Peter Morris but from a cross in front of their church.  His blood formed that strange symbol that we’ve been seeing on the landing of the church.”
 “Thanks for keeping me up to date, Edgar.  I have to go now, I need to talk to Tomas Nolond about this, he seems to have some sort of an idea of what’s really going on and I want to find out what his connection to Peter Morris is all about.  I’ll be in Danford by tomorrow night.”
 “I’ll see what else I can find out, Damian.  Good luck with Tomas.”
 Damian said good-bye and tucked his phone back into his pocket.  He stopped in front of the prison guard and flashed him his ID.  Damian then removed his weapons and any metallic or hard objects that he had, including his belt.  The guard relayed him the basic guidelines of what to do, which Damian knew already and then buzzed the door, unlocking it.  Damian stepped into the pristine white hallway, a gate between freedom and prison, and waited for the door to close behind him.  When the door behind him closed, the door at the end of the hall slowly opened revealing three arches much like the metal detectors at airport.  Damian slowly walked through the three detectors and waited patiently for the third door to open.
 Damian walked through the third door and entered what seemed to be another world.  It was like walking into a zoo except this zoo wasn’t filled with cuddly animals, but with the most hardened criminals in America.  The cells were whitewashed monthly with a unique non-stick paint that prevented anything from being hung on the walls.  The cells were all separated by three feet preventing the inmates from any contact with each other and the entrances to each cell was from the ceiling into a small holding room and then through a door that melded perfectly with the back wall.  The cells had their own recycled air and a thick sheet of plate glass covered the front of the cell.  There were also thick metal bars made of tungsten that would barely allow a small child to slip through.
 Communication from the cell to the hall was by microphones and speakers within the cell walls to the hallway and a microphone and speaker attached to a small pedestal outside each cell.  Thus, the prison guards could control whom to talk to and who not to talk to, this kept conversations private and prevented the inmates from conversing with each other.  In each cell there was a small toilet bolted to the floor, a bed bolted to the back wall, and a school desk bolted to the floor with a small shelf bolted to the wall next to it.  This was all that each inmate had and each cell was tossed twice weekly, once every Sunday and once a surprise tossing that not even the guards knew which cell.  On the back wall of each cell, as a small concession to humanity, there was a tiny barred window with a plate glass covering that allowed the sun to spill through every now and then.  For most of the men in the cells this would be the only sun they would ever see for the rest of their natural lives.
 Damian walked to the very last cell and stood in front of the pedestal.  He pressed the button and spoke quietly into the microphone, “Tomas, it’s me Damian.”
 Tomas Nolond rolled over and stared at Damian Coles.  His eyes narrowed and he grinned at the Agent.  “Ahh, I must be popular to be getting house calls all of a sudden.  Tell me, Damian, how do you like our establishment?  I know it must rival the places that the FBI must put you up in.”
 “I think the whole bars and plate glass would be a turn off, actually.”
 “You get used to it, Damian.  I barely even see them anymore.”
 “I doubt that, Tomas.  I have some questions I’d like to ask you about the case and I have some papers here about it, the information that you requested earlier.”
 “Well then send it right over, Damian.  I would love to assist you in this case.”
 “How do I give this to you?”
 “You see that drawer over there?  Put the files in the drawer and press the button, it will convey the files to me through the ceiling.  I think the FBI has some fetish about not using doors.”
 “Okay, I’m sending the files right now.  Now, I have some questions for you.  How did you get to know Peter Morris?  I got a phone call from Danford stating that there were letters from you in a trunk under his bed.”
 “Ahh. The letters,” smiled Tomas.  “Yes, we wrote to each other.  Actually, he wrote to me first.  He wanted to know some information about religious practices that I had some knowledge in.  I trust that the letters were not the only things that were found.  There must have been a big leather book as well after all I did direct him to try and find it.”
 “There was,” replied Damian.  “What was the book about?”
 “The book is an ancient text about a past god by the name of Holthaa.  According to the legends and myths, Holthaa was imprisoned over three thousand years ago by a group of Vikings.  There is some written knowledge about Holthaa and some artifacts that were supposedly used during religious ceremonies,” said Tomas, his face turning very serious and his eyes became hard and dark.
 “Why are we hearing about him now?  Was there something about him that we need to know?”
 “You should really study your ancient religions, Damian.  I am surprised that an intelligent person like you does not know about ancient gods and their followers.  Holthaa was supposed to have immense powers, you know the usual destroy the earth type of thing.  His followers were given some of these powers, unfortunately it is not stated exactly what they received in service to him.  Even more obscure are the actual religious ceremonies that needed to be performed to awake Holthaa’s awareness and then to protect oneself against his wrath.  I know that human sacrifice was somehow involved, but only at certain times of the year and only certain marked victims.”
 “How are these victims marked?”
 “One of Holthaa’s followers is said to have certain visionary powers that can see the Scar of Holthaa on a person.  The Scar appears on the victim’s left wrist and I have been told that a marked victim has a dream about Holthaa the night that they are marked.  The Scar is an open wound that never truly heals but it also never really bleeds.  It is an irritation that is usually ignored by the victim, as it never fully appears in its true form until the death of the victim.  One of the few things I learned about the religious practices besides human sacrifices is that the victim is almost always drained of blood and then the blood is imbibed during the ceremony.”
 “How are the victims killed?”
 “That is one of the many things I could not piece together.  In the book there is a mention that the body is to hang above a black altar and sliced but I could not find any mention of an altar anywhere.  After the blood is imbibed a chant is intoned and Holthaa will rise.”
 “Is there anything else about Holthaa?”
 “I have heard that there are three priests or religious figures in his control.  There is a leader who controls the real world aspects of Holthaa’s religion: the commoners and other such lowlifes.  There is a priest who knows all of the spells and incantations to gain the attention of Holthaa.  Finally, there is the dreamer who picks out the next victims for sacrifice.  According to legend the dreamer is Holthaa’s chosen follower and when HE was imprisoned he imparted some of his powers to the dreamer to break him out of the prison that was created around him.”
 “Then, that’s what’s going on at Danford.  This dreamer must have surfaced there and is trying to free Holthaa,” mused Damian.
 “Congratulations, Damian.  You are as intelligent as I have been told,” mocked Tomas.  “Know this, however, the dreamer is the most secretive of all of Holthaa’s followers.  The dreamer’s goals are far different from the rest of Holthaa’s followers their aim is to release their master not to gain his power.  I strongly believe that the rest of his followers would not follow Holthaa’s ways if they truly understood what they released.  Chaos and destruction sound great but only the dreamer truly knows the real terror that Holthaa will bring.”
 Damian thought for a minute and then looked up at Tomas who was now standing by the glass wall.  “Why did you tell me to protect Lucy Walter?”
 “Lucy Walter is unimportant.  Peter was the victim, not her, but there is something about the Walter family that I do not trust.  I wanted you to stay close to the family, the girl was a necessary cover to prevent Director Wallington and Agent MacKenzie from bungling the case as is their wont.  Peter was the one who wrote to me about the Walter family; at least once I could get him away from talking about Lucy all the time.  Be very careful, Damian, followers of Holthaa have been waiting a long time for his return and they are willing to do anything to bring about his return, even if you are not Scarred beware that they will kill at the slightest provocation.”
 “I’ll be careful and I’ll tell the others to be careful as well.  One last thing, how am I going to send you information about the case?”
 “Peter and I maintained contact through letters and newspapers.  He wrote an editorial in the Danford Daily Gazette and at the end of the editorial he wrote a simple question which he used to tell me that a letter was coming.  He would then mail me a letter with the answer to the question.  I would mail the letter back to him with a different response.  The trick that we learned however was not to write actually write anything that could be found.  The letter he mailed to me was on a unique piece of paper that was extremely thick compared to the paper that I am allowed to use.  The paper that he used was actually two sheets of paper stuck together.  I would right a response back using this,” said Tomas as he reached under the bunk of his bed and came up with a thick piece of hard plastic.
 “Instead of using a pen,” continued Tomas, “I would write using this to make an indention in two sheets of paper.  He would then use a piece of charcoal and brush over the note that I sent to see what I wrote.  It was cumbersome but it proved effective.”
 “I see.  Tomas, I hope you understand that you’re assistance on this case is your own desire.  I did not come to you for help and there is no plea bargain in the works.  You will rot here for the rest of your natural life.”
 “Oh yes, I fully understand, Damian.  But you see I will not be here much longer.”
 “You can’t escape.”
 “Who said anything about escaping.  Do you not see,” mocked Tomas as he raised his left hand. “I have been Scarred by Holthaa.  He is coming for me and there is nothing you can do to stop him.”

 Anna Johnson dozed lightly in her chair.  Lita had taken Shawn back to her home a few hours ago and Anna had been alone for the entire time.  Ricky had been given drugs to make sure that he slept through the pain and so Anna had had no one to talk to for the longest time.  She glanced up at the clock and realized that it was almost five in the morning.  ‘I must have slept longer than I realized,’ thought Anna as she stared out into the hallway.  The hospital had been fairly quiet throughout the night as was to be expected for a quiet part of the state.  Anna stood up and stretched, her lanky frame nearly touching the ceiling when she was fully extended.  She then walked over to where Ricky lay and almost unconsciously reached for his hand, caressing it.
 “Anna?!  What are you doing here?”
 Anna jumped at the familiar voice and turned around to see Mary Jane Raulson.  Mary Jane was of medium height, but was still dwarfed by Anna.  She had short brown hair and light, sparkling hazel eyes.  She had been second in the class behind Peter and had had a crush on him ever since grade school.  Peter and Mary Jane had been good friends despite Mary Jane’s feelings for him and Anna had met Peter through Mary Jane.  “Mary, what are you doing here?”
 “I’m here to drive my mom home.  I don’t have my own car yet and I had some things I needed to do in Murbrook so I dropped her off last night and now I have to pick her up.  What are you doing here?  I’ve heard some stories about you being put on some island or something.”
 “We were attacked last night by some strange people.”
 “We?”
 “Oh, me, Ricky Morris, and Officer McPhereson, the young one.”
 “Lucky you,” grinned Mary Jane.
 “I know,” admitted Anna.  “Too bad the circumstances couldn’t have been better.  Hey, have you seen Lucy around?”
 “I can’t say that I have.  There’s some sort of commotion going on at the church, there’s like police tape all over the place but no one’s spilling any dirt on the subject.  I think I’ll ask my mom about what’s happening she might have an idea.”
 “Maybe,” said Anna uneasily.
 “What’s wrong?”
 “Oh, nothing.  I just had a busy night and I’m tired.  I think I just need some sleep and I’ll be okay.”
 “Do you want me to drive you home?  You’re not that far from where we live after all and I’m sure my mom wouldn’t care anyway.  I mean its not like you’re a total stranger or something.”
 “Nah, its okay.  I told Mrs. Morris that I’d keep an eye on Ricky for her and tell her when he woke up.”
 “Keeping him all for yourself, huh?” teased Mary Jane.
 “No,” protested Anna.  “I just don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up, especially considering all that’s he’s been through.”
 “If you say so,” replied an unconvinced Mary Jane.
 “Mary, that’s where you are,” said Doctor Raulson as she entered the room.
 “Hey, mom.  How was your day?”
 “Very long and very exhausting.  Are you ready to go home?  Oh, Anna, you’re still here.  How’s Ricky doing?”
 “I think he’s okay, Mrs. Raulson.  He’s been sleeping a lot.”
 “Good, that’s what he needs to most is sleep and that’s what you need to and a hospital chair is not the place to get it.  I’m also sure that you’re parents want to make sure that you’re all right.  I know you called them and told them that you’re fine but they probably still want to see you.”
 “Okay, Mrs. Raulson.  Thank you for everything,” said Anna as she put on her jacket.

 “How are you feeling, honey?” asked Lita as she walked into her living room with a cup of hot tea for Shawn.
 “Sore.  My shoulder hurts but other than that I should be fine.  This sling is a pain in the neck though.  I wish I could take it off,” complained Shawn as he took the cup of tea from Lita and drank it, only to make a face.  “This stuff is awfully bitter.”
 “Its herbal tea, dear.  It’s supposed to help you heal faster.”
 “Oh.  How was your day?  Besides picking me up at the hospital,” asked Shawn as he wrapped his right arm tightly around her.
 “I was very worried.  All day, all I could think of was you.  I must have annoyed your brother; I was calling him so much to see if they found you.  I honestly thought I’d die if you didn’t come back alive,” said Lita, sniffling.
 “Shush.  It’s okay, love.  I’m back and I’m all in one piece, more or less.  I promise I’ll never you ever again,” said Shawn.
 “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Shawn.  Just don’t do anything stupid to try and impress me, I’ve been impressed with you my entire life.”
 Shawn kissed Lita and whispered, “I love you.”
 “I love you, too, and I never want to lose you like that again,” Lita whispered back as she pulled Shawn closer to her.
 The two lay on the couch, holding each other for hours and soon they fell asleep on the couch.  Lita woke up first.  Her eyes adjusting to he dark room.  The fire that she had built earlier to keep them warm had gone out as well as the candles that she had used to light the room.  She lifted her head up from Shawn’s chest and shivered in the cool air.  She got off Shawn and quickly got dressed.  Lita then placed a blanket over Shawn’s sleeping form and wandered over to the window.  She didn’t know what had awakened her at first but now she could hear it much more clearly.  The sound was off in the distance and sounded much like it had the first time, children laughing and giggling.  Lita felt a shiver run down her spine and an uncomfortable feeling between her shoulder blades.
 She turned away from the window and stared into her living room.  A man sat in an armchair, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon.  Another man stood next to him and reached down to turn on the lamp in front of him.
 “Hello, Lita,” grinned John Walter.  “You should really lock your doors at night.  You never know what kind of people might find their way into your house.”