Night Of The Beast by Harry Shannon Read Free Book Online Page B

him. Even the killing had been simple; pulling slowly on the strand of barbed wire while the old man thrashed and kicked and whimpered. Doc had been too drunk to resist. At the last, his bowels had emptied. Jason had mopped the floor and then dragged the corpse, with its ghastly frozen expression, into the embalming room. He had use for it.
    He had read the books carefully, one final time. He had drawn the pentagram last night, immediately after the murder. Now Doc Tyler lay sprawled across it as an offering. His flesh had already begun to decompose in the sweltering desert heat. Some dim part of Jason's brain wondered: Did I need to do any of this? Maybe I'm just fucking psychotic and this is all in my mind. What difference does it make, either way?
    Jason unpacked his books. No, in truth, it did not matter what was true or false, not anymore. He would worship regardless. He would believe. Dog would listen in, come to him. Perhaps he would not. It had been so very long.
    Jason knelt, naked, in the center of the inverted Pentagram. He faced the Seal of Belial, drawn backwards in Doc Tyler's blood upon the dusty wooden floor.
    " Besticitium consolatio veni ad me," he cried . "Adonay, appear instanter! Eloim, Ariel, Aqua, Tagila, Varios !"
    Had the ground shook, or only his legs?
    Again:" Besticitium consolatio veni ad me!"
    The foul smell of Doc Tyler's body seemed to grow worse, although it could have been Jason's imagination. I am mad, I am truly mad . Did the room now reek of sulfur, as well as moldering meat?
    Nothing happened. Dog had refused him yet again.
    Jason continued, but sensed he had already failed. Only the usual phenomenon manifested; sudden blasts of what felt like steaming vapor, tiny insects that grouped in Doc's blood. Arcane signs, but not the puppy's master. Not the Beloved one, The Beast.
    Am I mistaken to believe?
    Jason's birthmark flared and burst into flame. He screamed as it bored into his forehead like a cattle brand. The pain seemed very, very real.
    I am your savior. Jason, seek me. The time is nearly right.
    The pain vanished. Jason knew he had come closer than ever before. The answer was near. He would call on Great Abaddon, leader of the Angels of The Bottomless Pit, for protection. He blew out the sacred candles; rose up, his knees weak. Perhaps Dog would never return. Perhaps, which was even more frightening a prospect, he had never existed.
    But no, Dog was real and he was coming soon. Jason could feel it in his bones.
    Hold fast to your faith. There is much more to do here.
    Jason dressed himself with weakened fingers. Should he leave Doc's meat where it lay, to bless the room for his next attempt? No, it was useless, now. He would feed it to the animals.
    I am so weary, so empty from waiting. What must I do, Master? Tell me. And then it came to him, all in a rush. Jason Smith grinned in the gloom. Of course. More offerings…

6 

    ROURKE
     
    The new Sour Candy album was almost finished. Peter Rourke had spent all of the previous night and morning doing what he hated most: sequencing the songs, mastering and then suffering through gut-wrenching second-thoughts about each of his decisions. Back home, he opened his laptop, checked his email and found it backed up to Cleveland.
    "Fuck this," he sighed. He deleted everything and then crashed like a 747 around three in the afternoon. It was a dreamless, exhausted sleep. When the alarm went off just after sunset, he almost cried. It's nine PM, Rourke, let's get up and at 'em. Jesus H. Christ, what a way to make a living.
    I exist in the dark, he thought suddenly; work in it, wake up to it. I don't see the daylight anymore, never feel the heat of the sun on my skin. I miss the desert, the mountains. I need to go home . None of this is what I thought it would be when I ran away from Two Trees. Careful what you pray for, as someone once said. You just might get it.
    Oh, bullshit, Uncle Jeremy said in his mind. It's your own damn fault. You've