Eve To An Armageddon
Andrew R. Crow

The stars were right.
The time was right.

The carpet was pushed aside, revealing the trapdoor beneath. He motioned to Eckart, who pulled upon the rusty ring, revealing concrete steps beneath. Eckart, holding the candle, took the lead; he appeared to vanish down the steps into darkness. The dark man followed downward, leaving the door opened.

Eckart used the candle to light the braziers surrounding the cramped room.

The oily smoke rising from the surrounding flames made the air thick. The far wall was cloaked in darkness, the braziers having what looked like hooks or knobs protruding six feet from the floor, holding a pair of black gowns. Eckart donned one and passing the other to the man who had fallen to his knees. He was drawing a pentagram on the mouldy floor with white chalk, careful to stay out of its confining lines. Nearby, a body cloaked in a sheet thrashed around feebly.

He motioned to Eckart, who began chanting in low tones, a language that hurt the manís ears as he listened.

The man drew a thin blade along the throat of the unfortunate kidnapped child, spilling blood into the centre of the chalk outline. A goat stink filled the room as it feasted. Red eyes flashed and a voice spoke in the Manís mind.

The man made his request.

The creature named its price.

The man smiled and wiped sweat from his moustache. Oh yes, there were many more where this one came from. Millions, in fact.

First published: November, 2003
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