Cult
Father McGinnis knelt before the altar of the church he preached for. Night had fallen and the only light in the sanctuary came from the glow of a solitary candle. Father McGinnis made this a daily ritual before he went home for the night. This one small flame gave the catholic priest of sixty years a sense of peace in a world of madness.
Once Father McGinnis finished his prayer he stood up to leave. As the rest of the dimly lit sanctuary entered his vision, he saw someone approach him from the center aisle.
“Can I help you dear child?” The figure entered the flame’s light revealing a familiar yet long seen face. “Michael Philips! I haven’t seen you in over a year.”
Michael was relatively short for a man of twenty six, standing at five foot one. He had long wavy black hair and a beard that covered just his chin. His eyes were pale blue. That’s where the familiarity ended; for his skin was much paler, dark circles surrounded his eyes, he lacked the energy he once had and he wore clothes with muted colors as opposed to the more vibrant ones he used to wear. Father McGinnis could have sworn he saw some tattoos peeking out from under the long sleeved shirt he wore. “A lot has happened Father.”
“I can see that. What happened?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if we talked in the confessional.” Father McGinnis noticed that Michael was trembling and sweating buckets.
“Yes of course.” The priest directed to the wooden booth as he turned on the lights to the rest of the sanctuary. They entered the separate compartments and Father McGinnis slid open the panel that covered the visually obstructive lattice.
Michael’s voice came through from the other side. “Forgive me Father, for it has been over a year since my last confession.”
“It is human nature to stray from the righteous path. You need not fear so long as the Lord guides you back.”
“I’m afraid it might be too late for me. I’ve seen and done too much.”
“It is never too late my son. What is it that you have done?”
No words came from Michael for a few moments. “I joined a cult.”
Father McGinnis sighed in disappointment. “I have known you for all of your life Michael. You have come to this church every Sunday, even after you moved out of your parents’ house.” Father McGinnis flashed back to the very day he had baptized the lost soul next to him. “What could possess you to join a cult?”
“This isn’t any ordinary cult. They don’t do any of that fake voodoo that they say actually does something. These people can actually use magic.”
Father McGinnis turned to try to look at Michael. “Magic?”
“Not the staged kind either. I mean real magic; as in levitation, turning invisible and shooting fire from your hand magic!”
Father McGinnis’s belief in what Michael was saying faltered. “How-however did you find these people?”
“I was met by a recruiter who was looking for young minds to enlighten. I wasn’t convinced until he made my wallet fly out of my back pocket and into his open hand. He told me where they were meeting and gave me back my wallet. I thought I may as well go and figure out how he pulled that trick, maybe even say how stupid the whole thing was.”
“What happened at the meeting?”
“Jonas Black happened.” His voice trembled as he said that name. “He’s the leader of ‘The New Druidic Order’. He claimed that his cult‘s purpose was to revive the ways of magic and bring order back to the world. He did some fancy magic to impress the newcomers. I wasn’t convinced it was real, until I did it myself.”
Father McGinnis felt the confessional get a bit warmer and he saw a glow come from Michael’s side.
“After a brief lesson there it was. A tiny ball of flame floating just above my hands, obeying my every thought.”
Father McGinnis sat in stunned silence at what little he could see of Michael’s reenactment.
“I got hooked then and there. Can you imagine it?” Michael began chuckling nervously. “Creating lightning to be independent of the electric company, no need to carry anything in your arms, winning an argument with a fireball to the face. Who in their right mind would pass that up?” The flame in the booth went out as Michael paused to keep his thoughts collected.
Father McGinnis couldn’t find any words to say, never in his years had there been anything to prepare him for this. “I-I ah, don’t. . . What else happened?”
“I was taught some more and kept getting told I was doing a great service to humanity. That is until a month ago. Jonas saw that my abilities were unlike any other and invited me into his inner circle. It was then they told me the truth of what their purpose was. They want to revive their dark god so he can reclaim his rule over the world.”
“They want to summon Satan?!”
Michael shook his head. “Not exactly, I’m vague on the details, but he’s far more proactive than the Devil.”
“How exactly are they going to resurrect their ‘dark god’?”
“They need to cross over into another world, I can’t quite remember. . . Arcadia I think. Anyway it is there where he is trapped. In order to get there they need to activate these keystones and to do that they need to have these. . . Specially breed people to activate them.”
“Breed?”
“These people are like the Free Masons, they’ve been around for a long time and have been working in the shadows. One of their projects involved getting specific family lines to propagate to get kids that have specific traits so they can unlock the keystones when they reach adult hood. Not even they know what’s going on until it’s too late.”
“What happens to the people after they’ve fulfilled their purpose?” Father McGinnis was almost too terrified to ask.
“They disappear, they’re just gone. All I know is that they’re almost done. Just one more keystone and they’re ready to resurrect the big guy. They even-”
The door to Michael’s side of the confessional flew open and Michael was pulled right out.
Father McGinnis flung his own door open to confront the intruders. “Let him go you-God almighty and all of the saints in heaven!”
Right there in front of him were three figures. They all wore regular street clothes, but that was as human as they got. Two of them had pointed ears like elves, but unlike any elf the priest had heard of they each had two goat-like horns coming out of their foreheads. The third one was an even stranger sight, for along with the pointed ears he had bat-like wings growing from his back instead of the horns his companions had.
One of the horned ones held Michael by his collar. He was middle aged, relatively good physical build, and had long ghost white hair that went past his shoulders. “What did you tell the priest Philips?”
“I-it doesn’t matter, I told him everything in confidence; he’s under oath not to say anything.”
He pulled Michael closer to his face. “That’s not the point Philips. It’s the fact you felt the need to ease your conscience. That means you’re not quite with us in our endeavors.”
He then flung Michael to the other two ‘demons’ who in turn secured him in their grip. “NO! Jonas please!”
Jonas’s horns began to glow with a blood red light. “You shall be dealt with later.” The light shifted to his left hand as he placed two fingers on Michael’s forehead.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Michael convulsed as if he was being electrocuted. After sixty seconds of agony Michael went limp, held up only by Jonas’s goons.
Jonas turned to them. “Take him to the ‘Cauldron’, I’ll handle clean up.” The horned one and winged one nodded and dragged Michael out of the church. Jonas turned to Father McGinnis and his horns began to glow once more.
Father McGinnis stared wide eyed and backed up into the confessional. He fell on the floor as Jonas came closer.
Jonas lifted his hand, palm facing McGinnis and grinned like a mad man. “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” His palm flashed.
Father McGinnis was no more than dust on the wind.
Jonas turned and walked out of the church with the only sound being the echoes of his footsteps. He turned off the lights as he left, leaving only the single candle to light the church.
After a few minutes the flame extinguished leaving the church dark and lifeless.
