Follow Me to Heaven, 2/4
Title: Follow Me to Heaven, chapter two
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 5,062
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: The hours wear on, and torture and confusion abound.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Chapter Two
Scott continued to struggle as he was led away from the room where Elliott was being kept. His heart was racing, his entire being in a panic. There were sounds inside the room-horrible, pain-filled sounds. Elliott was being beaten! There was no other explanation for what he was hearing.
"Elliott!" he screamed. "Elliott!"
He kicked at Prosperus. "Let me go!" he yelled. "I have to go back to him! He hasn't done anything wrong and those creeps are hurting him anyway!"
But the taller and stronger man only held tighter to his captive, as did the others who were pulling Scott away. They kept walking, heading around the next corner as the horrific sounds began to fade from earshot.
"Master Caelius knows what he is doing," Prosperus said. "You will be grateful when you are released from the burden of that man's dishonest and blackened heart." He nodded to two of the other men, who walked ahead and opened the door of a room that was apparently right next to the dining room. As he approached with Scott, he forced the still-fighting blond inside and onto a soft bed.
"The others before you were very grateful, indeed," he remarked, lowering his voice.
Scott stopped struggling, the color draining from his face. "The others?!" he gasped. "Grateful?!"
"Yes," Prosperus said, continuing to restrain Scott by holding onto his shoulders. The same two men who had opened the door now closed and locked it before taking up positions on either side of it.
Scott could only shake his head, staring up at the man holding him down. "Who . . . who did they kill?" he choked out.
"People who had wronged them," Prosperus said, keeping his voice low and falsely comforting. "Once they were released from the devils' holds, they joined the Brotherhood-or the Sisterhood, as the case may be." He smiled at Scott-a sickening, wicked smile. "We are looking forward to welcoming you as the newest member of our Brotherhood."
"Over my dead body!" Scott spat. "I'll never lay a finger on El to hurt him! And these others you're talking about . . . they must be pretty sick, to commit murder for you!"
"But it isn't murder when we have been authorized," Prosperus said. Finally he released Scott, straightening up as he stood over the young man sprawled on the bed. "Master Caelius has all the necessary authority to expel evil men and women from this existence. The world is meant to be a beautiful place, but so many sins and vices have ruined it-greed, vanity, thievery . . . betrayal." He emphasized the last word, his features twisting in revulsion.
"Authorized," Scott repeated, gripping handfuls of quilt. "Authorized by who?!" He sat up, his hat tumbling off his blond curls and landing on the pillow. "You really think this is what any righteous God would want? God would know what really happened to me and El. He would know that this Caelius has just twisted everything in his creepy little mind and that he's trying to have an innocent person killed."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up to stand next to Prosperus. "And you know what else? If Caelius really wants one of us to die, I can't figure out why he picked El. I'm the one who pushed El through a trapdoor! I put my hands on his shoulders and . . . and I . . ." He trailed off, shaking. He could not talk about it with this wretch. The horror was growing fresh in his mind all over again.
"Elliott was trying to protect me!" he screamed. "He . . . he was only running because he was terrified of what that spirit controlling him was going to do to me! Don't you get that?!" His eyes flashed. "Elliott had no idea a car was going to come. He didn't want me to follow him! He didn't want me to . . ."
Again he let the sentence trail into nothing. He was wasting his breath. If this guy fully supported Caelius, then he was just as bad.
Scott shook his head, looking up at Prosperus. Sure enough, the retreat master's assistant was unmoved.
"I'll never do what you want me to," he said, his voice low and cold. "I don't care if you have me killed too. If El's blood ever gets on my hands-and I'm praying it never does-it won't be because I've ever hurt him in my right mind."
Prosperus sighed. "We will see how you feel when it is time for the ceremonial ritual," he said. "But if that man's foul influence still keeps you from doing what you must for your own good, then believe you me, you shall both indeed perish. And I doubt your other two friends will fare any better." With that he turned, his green robe whirling with the motion, and crossed to the door. One of the guards unlocked it just long enough for him to slip out before bolting it in place again.
Scott slumped back. He had caught a glimpse of other guards outside the door. They were determined that he would not escape.
For the first time, he let his gaze drift over the room. It was much different than the bare space where Elliott had been left. This room was lavishly furnished, with the bed and its dark green comforter, a wooden chest of drawers, and an end table. Just above the chest was a large window that looked out over the dining room table. He would be able to see everything that happened in there.
"So much for giving up material comforts," he muttered.
He could try to shatter the glass, but could he possibly heave something at it, dodge the flying particles, climb onto the chest, and dive through the space before the guards caught him?
It was worth a try. He moved to grab the end table.
Almost instantly a guard was at his side, taking hold of the object as well. From his warning eyes, he knew what Scott was planning. It would never work.
But Scott was desperate. He had to get out of here! He could not still be here when it was time for the ceremony! He had to free the others so they could all escape with their lives!
He gave a violent pull. The table fell against him, the guard thrown back to the floor. He leaped up, tossing the furniture at the window with all his might.
Glass shattered, flying in every direction. Scott threw his arm over his eyes as he charged forward at the new hole, ignoring the shards cutting into his hand as he started to pull himself onto the dresser. It was just a few cuts. They would easily heal. He took his arm away from his eyes, grasping the other side of the chest with his other hand.
What was the sweet scent filling the room? He whirled, looking back to the guards. They had fled. And he was suddenly so dizzy. . . .
"Oh no," he moaned, falling backward off the dresser to the floor.
Oblivion swept over him with a vengeance.
****
The return to consciousness was slow.
Everything hurt. That was the first realization-everything hurt . . . but especially his head.
A groan escaped his lips as a large hand came to rest on his shoulder. Was it time for another round? He and Barry had fought against their enemies all that they could. There had just been too many. He had never once dreamed that the cult had so many members. . . .
"Sean. Wake up!"
The voice was familiar . . . and commanding. Sean forced an eye open. He was laying on his side on a cold floor, his braids spread out around him. It was Barry leaning over him, concern written across his face-though Sean could barely see a thing. They had been left in the dark.
Slowly he raised a hand to rub at his head. "What happened?" he mumbled.
Barry sighed. "They weren't playing fair to begin with," he said, "but when we were occupied during the fight, a couple of them crept up and chloroformed us, I think. I saw you go down first. I tried to get to you and then I was assaulted by a sweet-smelling cloth." This he said in a complete deadpan.
"Oh well, that's just great," Sean muttered. "No wonder my head's pounding." He raised up on his hands, glancing around the room. It was large and bare, with only the outline of some kind of podium to the far left. "What is this, the meditation room?"
"Probably," Barry said. "What I'm worried about is where Scott and Elliott are. Caelius obviously has something horrible in mind for them. And when he thinks Elliott is some kind of devil, I hate to think what it is." He clenched a fist.
"He's the devil," Sean retorted. "And what kind of names are Caelius and Prosperus, anyway? It makes me feel like we've gone back to ancient Rome or something."
"I think those are Latin names," Barry sighed. "Maybe everyone in the cult is assigned one?"
"Could be." Now Sean was pushing himself up, wandering around the room and back to the closed double-doors. He grasped hold of the handles, rattling them in desperation. But they held firm. He glowered at them, then looked to Barry.
"How long do you think we've been in here, anyway?"
Barry shook his head. "I don't know. The rain's still coming down, though."
Sean pushed his hat back on his head. "We could've been in here for a couple of hours!" he said. "Or even longer! How long can chloroform last?"
"It depends on the amount they used," Barry said. "But I don't doubt that it could last for more than a couple of hours."
Sean pulled back his sleeve, glancing at his glow-in-the-dark watch. "It's almost eight," he noted. "They must be sitting down to dinner right now."
Barry looked at his own watch. "So we supposedly have four hours to sneak out of here and rescue Scott and El," he said.
"And of course, they've taken our communicators and phones," Sean grumbled. "Not that they'd work in this storm, anyway."
He placed his hands on his hips, glaring at the doors again. "Maybe if we both throw ourselves against them, they'll break loose," he said.
"But what if there's guards outside?" Barry said. "We might just end up in here another time. We need to devise some kind of strategy."
Sean pressed himself against the crack between the doors. "I don't hear anything," he said. He closed one eye and attempted to peer through the opening. "And I don't see anything, either."
"The guards could be standing to the sides," Barry said matter-of-factly.
Sean backed away, blowing out his breath in frustration. "I still say we should take a chance," he said. "Where are they even going to do this ceremony? This looks like the biggest room."
"Maybe it won't be in here," Barry said. "They could be planning to use one of the cabins. One of them looked bigger than the others."
"That's true," Sean frowned. "That patio thing leads up to each cabin, doesn't it?"
Barry nodded. "Even though they want to 'get away from it all', they apparently don't like the mud," he remarked.
Sean ran a hand into his braids in frustration. "If only there was a window in here!" he berated.
"There probably isn't so the great outdoors won't be a meditation distraction," Barry said.
Sean was wandering the length of the room another time. "Maybe there's a secret panel or something," he said. "You know, so the creep can spy on whoever's meditating? Let's look!"
Barry got up too. "It wouldn't hurt," he mused. "But would they really lock us in here if there was an alternate way out?"
Sean ran his hands over the paneled walls. "Who knows," he said. "They might think we'd never find the thing. Or maybe their leader is the only one who even knows about it."
"Maybe," Barry sighed. But he doubted it. Even so, he moved to help Sean anyway.
"I can't believe the people who start up these things," Sean grumbled. "I guess they know there's always suckers who'll fall for their scams. Maybe what I should say is that I can't believe the people who join these things."
"They're lonely," Barry said, "or looking for meaning in their lives. They don't always use their best judgment. And the people who start cults know how to manipulate those vulnerable emotions." He shook his head. "What's most disturbing is when the cult leaders are delusional, instead of actually trying to sucker people into a scam. There's no telling what they're capable of doing."
"You'd think some people would realize the truth," Sean said. "Though I guess some have here-the ones who were trying to contact outside sources." His voice was growing more angry and bitter. "They've probably been killed now, like Caelius wants to do to El. He doesn't seem like he'd let any grass grow under his feet."
From the direction of Sean's voice, as well as the vague outline Barry could see, Sean seemed to be very close by now. Barry reached out, laying a hand on Sean's shoulder.
"It doesn't seem likely that they're alive," he agreed. "But let's not give up yet."
Sean was silent. "There I go again," he said then. "It should be me saying that line."
"We're both furious, but I know this is an especially sore subject for you." Barry placed his hands on the wall as he resumed feeling for a panel.
". . . Yeah." Sean continued the search as well, weariness seeping into his voice amid the anger. "When the Chief told me about the case, I wanted to accept right then. But on the other hand, I didn't want to without talking to you and Scott and El. Even after they've been crushed so bad, they wanted to take the case. And now they're the ones being targeted here. It isn't fair."
"No, it isn't." A bit of anger was in Barry's voice as well.
"And I'm not finding any panels here."
"Ditto."
Sean crossed the room as he returned to the double-doors, throwing himself against them.
"I've had enough of this!" he cried. "Come on, Barry, help me bust the doors in!"
There really did not seem to be any other choice. Barry ran at the doors too. They groaned, weakening.
"Again!" Sean ordered. "Together!"
The two men slammed into the doors. On the other side, one of the guards who was indeed there gave an alarmed yelp.
"They're trying to break out!" exclaimed the one. "What do we do?!"
"Let them come," said the other, remaining far more calm than his companion. "We'll attack after they crash through the doors."
It only took another couple of tries before the doors gave way, banging into the walls on either side of the entrance. Sean and Barry ran out, glaring in defiance at the guards. Both were wearing dark green robes, the hoods pulled over their heads. One lunged at Sean, but was not quick enough. Sean delivered a knock-out punch that sent the creep flying back several feet. Barry likewise attacked the other would-be assailant, dropping him to the floor.
"We'll put them where we were," Sean smirked, dragging the first man through the open doorway. "Let's see how they like it!" He deposited the limp body on the floor and then strolled out while Barry set down the other guard. Together they pushed the doors shut before looking around for something to secure them.
A smirk came over Barry's features as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs. Sean smirked too, watching as Barry hooked the metal cuffs over each handle and snapped them closed.
"Brilliant!" Sean cackled.
But then he frowned, turning to look up and down the halls. They had been making a lot of noise. Why hadn't anyone come to see what was going on? Not that he wanted to be intercepted, but did that mean there really was not anyone else in the main building? What if they were already at the cabin?
He looked back to Barry, who was having similar thoughts. The older man was studying the vacant halls with narrowed eyes.
"Let's go to the front and see whether any of the cabins are lit up," he said.
Sean nodded, his eyes filled with worry. They had to save Scott and Elliott, no matter what it took.
But . . . what would it take?
****
Scott groaned, his eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of the wooden ceiling high above him. He was laying on his back, still on the floor. The sounds of chairs squeaking and silverware clattering were very clear from down here. Was that what had awakened him?
He felt so weak and dizzy. . . . He closed his eyes. Maybe in a moment he would have the strength to get up.
In the dining room, he could hear the clinking of a spoon against a glass. "My dear friends," Caelius's smooth voice announced.
Scott's lip curled in disgust.
"It is with the greatest joy that I tell you my vision is coming to pass."
A murmur of excitement.
"You are all aware of our honored guests by now. And you are also aware of the demon among them. He has been captured and restrained. In less than four hours, the poor man he betrayed will inflict just punishment on this beast. Then we will welcome him into the Brotherhood."
A cheer.
Scott turned his head to the side. "No," he whispered. "No, I won't do it. I'll never do it!"
"Master Caelius, what happened to the window?" one young girl asked. Was she the one they had come here looking for? Did she really believe that such a wicked plan was good?
"Ah, the window," Caelius said. "That was caused by our confused guest Scott. He still does not fully understand what is going to happen to him tonight. In a fit of panic, he broke the window and tried to escape. But we have pacified him."
"Pacified," Scott spat. "I could kick you in the face, I'm so pacified."
But then he sighed. "I've been hanging around Sean too much," he muttered.
He opened his eyes again, aiming to sit up. But he stiffened in horror. He could not move! He was telling his arms and legs to obey him, but they would not cooperate.
What was wrong with him?! His heart raced faster.
He gasped in horror. Could he have broken his back or his neck when he had tumbled off the chest?
Well . . . it could not be his neck, could it? He could move his head from one side to the other. . . .
A new panic swelled in his heart. He could not be paralyzed! But it would only have to take one little break and he would be like that for the rest of his life.
Not that his life would be very long in this place.
Wait. . . . The sweet stuff that had knocked him out. . . . Could a side-effect of it be temporary paralysis? He could not be permanently injured, not if those creeps really wanted him to . . . to . . .
He slumped back into the floor. He would have to think that was it. Otherwise he would just go crazy worrying that he would never be able to move again.
"Master Caelius. . . ." The girl was speaking once more. "What really is going to happen tonight? I don't understand."
"Of course not, my child," Caelius said. "But consider yourself privileged. Tonight you will be entrusted with all of our secrets. Instead of merely explaining, I will let you and all our other guests see for yourselves."
". . . T-thank you, Master." Was the girl just surprised . . . or not so enthusiastic? Scott frowned. He wished she would not be enthusiastic. And if she had any semblance of conscience, he did not see how she could be.
Unconsciousness was threatening to sweep over him again. Should he just let it take him? Or should he fight it? Maybe he would wake up able to move. But he might also wake up finding that it was time for the ceremony.
If he could just get up and sneak out of the room . . . !
What if the guards were back? He did not know whether they were there or not, when he could not turn and look. If they were there, however, they were being extremely quiet. And he would have thought they would come over to look at him if they saw that he was reviving.
"Prosperus, have you checked on the one called Elliott lately?" Caelius asked.
"Yes, Master," Prosperus said. "He is being closely guarded, just as you commanded. When he so much as tries to adjust his position, he is forced to be still."
Hot tears glistened in Scott's eyes. How could they treat Elliott that way?! Worst of all, how could they believe it was right?! At least V.I.L.E. knew they were committing criminal acts when they inflicted injuries. Scott was starting to think these people were worse.
"What about Sean and Barry?" Caelius wondered.
"The chloroform should be wearing off, Master," Prosperus said. "I imagine they are very confused about now."
Confused? Scott frowned. Why would they be confused? What had happened to them, besides being chloroformed?!
"Just as they should be. We shall just let them wander a while.
"After our meal, Prosperus, you are to go and make certain the blond one is properly dressed for the ceremony."
There was no time to wonder where Sean and Barry were wandering. Scott stared up at the window in horror. Prosperus would be coming in here again? And he would have to make sure Scott was dressed properly?! Scott did not want anything to do with the creep, let alone to be dressed by him! And if he still could not move, there would not be anything he could do about it.
Not that there would be anyway; now he was having visions of Prosperus bringing several of his goons and having them all restrain Scott while he was put into whatever they planned for him to wear. He shuddered.
His eyes widened. If he could shudder, then surely he must be getting some feeling back!
He looked to his left hand, fighting to curl the fingers. They moved . . . slightly. But they had moved! He was not paralyzed! He breathed a sigh of indescribable relief.
If he could not make himself regain the full use of the limbs very soon, however, he really would be at Prosperus's mercy.
And from what he had seen, Prosperus had none.
****
Elliott stared blankly at the wooden floor, his left cheek still pressed against the tiles. This was unbearable! He had lost track of how long he had been laying like this. The guards were still surrounding him, kicking and hitting if he even just wanted to stretch his legs or turn onto his side. By now it felt like both feet were asleep, to say nothing of his arms.
He gritted his teeth. No one would tell him anything about the others, either. When he had tried to ask, he had been kicked again and told that he did not care, and that he would not see them until the ceremony.
At least that gave him hope that they were all alive at the moment. But Scott, poor Scott! What he must be going through, after what Caelius had said he had to do . . . ! More than anything, Elliott wanted to be there for him, to comfort him, to tell him that somehow they would get out of this mess. . . .
Even though right now he had no idea how they were going to accomplish that feat. It would take an enormous miracle.
He shifted several inches. His right leg tingled to life and abruptly cramped. He gasped, his lips parting at the sharp pain. Someone was kicking him in the ribs again, but now he could not pay attention to anything except his leg. He gritted his teeth, clutching the floor in desperation with his hands.
And then the cramp passed. He gasped again, going slack on the floor.
"You deserved every second of that pain, demon," hissed one of the guards. "And you moved again. That's another penalty." He kicked out, deliberately hitting the hurt leg.
Elliott cried out as the pain flared.
"And you used your voice," said a second. He bent down, taking hold of Elliott's jaw and squeezing tight. But before he could crush it, he slid his hand down to the hapless brunet's throat and then tightened his grip a second time.
Elliott gasped, his hands flying up to clutch at the cruel man's wrist. "Let go," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes began to water.
At last he was released. He fell back to the floor, shuddering as he gulped in the air.
Someone behind him took hold of his brunet curls, painfully pulling his head back. "Don't step out of line again," the wretch hissed. He let go of Elliott's hair, grabbing him under his arms and thrusting him into the wall.
This time Elliott shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, sliding down in silence. He trembled as he crumpled back to the wooden floor, the agony written across his features.
How would he ever be able to fight when it came time for the ceremony? He would never lay down and give in, but he doubted that anything he tried to do to defend himself and the others would make much difference. Not when he had been beaten so badly he could barely stand.
****
Sean stopped running as he arrived at the dining room. But he could only stare. It was empty, just as every other room had been that he and Barry had found. Aside from the guards they had locked up, the lodge was devoid of life.
"What's going on here?!" he burst out.
He whirled to look at the entryway, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. The door was gone! The huge window was still up there, and he could see the rain pounding down on it, but underneath it was a solid wall.
Barry came up behind him, his eyes narrowed. He had tried to look out a couple of windows that they had passed, but all he had been able to see were trees and hedges blocking the view. It was as if they had been asleep for so long that the shrubbery had grown to epic proportions.
"Are you feeling as much like Rip Van Winkle as I am?" Sean exclaimed.
"If we hadn't seen those guards, I would," Barry deadpanned.
"My next guess would be the Twilight Zone," Sean said.
"It could be Candid Camera," Barry returned.
Sean threw his hands in the air. "Not only is everyone gone, but we have no way out!" He glowered at the picture window. "Unless we want to stack up a bunch of furniture, climb up there, break the glass, and hope we don't break our necks if we try leaping out!"
Barry shook his head. "Let's look in here," he said, crossing the entrance space to the dining room.
But the banquet hall stood silent and abandoned, as if it had not been in use for years. A window at the back led to a bedroom that was also empty, the door standing open and revealing the back hallway.
Sean followed him in, pressing himself against the glass. "What's the point of this?" he frowned. "A bedroom just off the dining room? Who could sleep in there if everyone's eating out here?"
"Maybe the glass is soundproof," Barry suggested.
Sean stalked over to the back of the dining room. There were more double-doors here, leading into the hall. He stepped through, peering up and down the corridor. But there was nothing.
"Scott?!" he called in desperation. "Elliott?!"
His voice echoed along the lonely passageway.
Passageway. . . .
He whirled to look at Barry, who was just coming up behind him. "That's it!" he exclaimed.
"What's it?" Barry grunted.
"My idea about a secret passage is correct!" Sean cried. "This doesn't make much sense, Barry, but hang on. All we can see out the windows are trees and hedges. And there's no outside door. It's almost like we're at the back of the building!"
Barry raised an eyebrow. "You're right, it doesn't make much sense," he said. "Are you saying they have an exact replica of the house's layout on the other side?"
Sean nodded. "Think about it! The way the place is nestled into the woods, you can't ever see the back of it. No one would know or even suspect! Maybe they stick people in here to confuse them."
". . . And the meditation room is at the back of the house as we know it," Barry realized. "That's the only place where the two halves could connect on this floor."
"There's probably something on the higher floors too," Sean said. "But for now let's go back to where we started! I bet we'll find that the unctuous creeps we knocked out have come to and escaped through the panel!" Without waiting for Barry's reply, he took off running.
Shaking his head, Barry followed. It still did not make much sense . . . but it was more logical than anything else they had come up with.
Up ahead, Sean was undoing the key around the handcuffs and hauling the doors open. "Ha!" he called in triumph. "They're gone!" He ran into the room, standing in the middle with his hands on his hips. "Now we just have to figure out where the panel is."
Barry stepped inside next to him. "It would have to be along the back wall," he determined.
Sean nodded. "Excellent deduction!" he said. "Let's go to work!"
With that he hurried to the back wall and began again to tap it.
Barry moved to the other side. Hopefully this would not take long. They had already been wandering all over these floors more than they should have. By the time they could ever get back into the populated part of the lodge, what would be happening to Scott and Elliott?
He was not sure he could bear to know.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 5,062
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: The hours wear on, and torture and confusion abound.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Chapter Two
Scott continued to struggle as he was led away from the room where Elliott was being kept. His heart was racing, his entire being in a panic. There were sounds inside the room-horrible, pain-filled sounds. Elliott was being beaten! There was no other explanation for what he was hearing.
"Elliott!" he screamed. "Elliott!"
He kicked at Prosperus. "Let me go!" he yelled. "I have to go back to him! He hasn't done anything wrong and those creeps are hurting him anyway!"
But the taller and stronger man only held tighter to his captive, as did the others who were pulling Scott away. They kept walking, heading around the next corner as the horrific sounds began to fade from earshot.
"Master Caelius knows what he is doing," Prosperus said. "You will be grateful when you are released from the burden of that man's dishonest and blackened heart." He nodded to two of the other men, who walked ahead and opened the door of a room that was apparently right next to the dining room. As he approached with Scott, he forced the still-fighting blond inside and onto a soft bed.
"The others before you were very grateful, indeed," he remarked, lowering his voice.
Scott stopped struggling, the color draining from his face. "The others?!" he gasped. "Grateful?!"
"Yes," Prosperus said, continuing to restrain Scott by holding onto his shoulders. The same two men who had opened the door now closed and locked it before taking up positions on either side of it.
Scott could only shake his head, staring up at the man holding him down. "Who . . . who did they kill?" he choked out.
"People who had wronged them," Prosperus said, keeping his voice low and falsely comforting. "Once they were released from the devils' holds, they joined the Brotherhood-or the Sisterhood, as the case may be." He smiled at Scott-a sickening, wicked smile. "We are looking forward to welcoming you as the newest member of our Brotherhood."
"Over my dead body!" Scott spat. "I'll never lay a finger on El to hurt him! And these others you're talking about . . . they must be pretty sick, to commit murder for you!"
"But it isn't murder when we have been authorized," Prosperus said. Finally he released Scott, straightening up as he stood over the young man sprawled on the bed. "Master Caelius has all the necessary authority to expel evil men and women from this existence. The world is meant to be a beautiful place, but so many sins and vices have ruined it-greed, vanity, thievery . . . betrayal." He emphasized the last word, his features twisting in revulsion.
"Authorized," Scott repeated, gripping handfuls of quilt. "Authorized by who?!" He sat up, his hat tumbling off his blond curls and landing on the pillow. "You really think this is what any righteous God would want? God would know what really happened to me and El. He would know that this Caelius has just twisted everything in his creepy little mind and that he's trying to have an innocent person killed."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up to stand next to Prosperus. "And you know what else? If Caelius really wants one of us to die, I can't figure out why he picked El. I'm the one who pushed El through a trapdoor! I put my hands on his shoulders and . . . and I . . ." He trailed off, shaking. He could not talk about it with this wretch. The horror was growing fresh in his mind all over again.
"Elliott was trying to protect me!" he screamed. "He . . . he was only running because he was terrified of what that spirit controlling him was going to do to me! Don't you get that?!" His eyes flashed. "Elliott had no idea a car was going to come. He didn't want me to follow him! He didn't want me to . . ."
Again he let the sentence trail into nothing. He was wasting his breath. If this guy fully supported Caelius, then he was just as bad.
Scott shook his head, looking up at Prosperus. Sure enough, the retreat master's assistant was unmoved.
"I'll never do what you want me to," he said, his voice low and cold. "I don't care if you have me killed too. If El's blood ever gets on my hands-and I'm praying it never does-it won't be because I've ever hurt him in my right mind."
Prosperus sighed. "We will see how you feel when it is time for the ceremonial ritual," he said. "But if that man's foul influence still keeps you from doing what you must for your own good, then believe you me, you shall both indeed perish. And I doubt your other two friends will fare any better." With that he turned, his green robe whirling with the motion, and crossed to the door. One of the guards unlocked it just long enough for him to slip out before bolting it in place again.
Scott slumped back. He had caught a glimpse of other guards outside the door. They were determined that he would not escape.
For the first time, he let his gaze drift over the room. It was much different than the bare space where Elliott had been left. This room was lavishly furnished, with the bed and its dark green comforter, a wooden chest of drawers, and an end table. Just above the chest was a large window that looked out over the dining room table. He would be able to see everything that happened in there.
"So much for giving up material comforts," he muttered.
He could try to shatter the glass, but could he possibly heave something at it, dodge the flying particles, climb onto the chest, and dive through the space before the guards caught him?
It was worth a try. He moved to grab the end table.
Almost instantly a guard was at his side, taking hold of the object as well. From his warning eyes, he knew what Scott was planning. It would never work.
But Scott was desperate. He had to get out of here! He could not still be here when it was time for the ceremony! He had to free the others so they could all escape with their lives!
He gave a violent pull. The table fell against him, the guard thrown back to the floor. He leaped up, tossing the furniture at the window with all his might.
Glass shattered, flying in every direction. Scott threw his arm over his eyes as he charged forward at the new hole, ignoring the shards cutting into his hand as he started to pull himself onto the dresser. It was just a few cuts. They would easily heal. He took his arm away from his eyes, grasping the other side of the chest with his other hand.
What was the sweet scent filling the room? He whirled, looking back to the guards. They had fled. And he was suddenly so dizzy. . . .
"Oh no," he moaned, falling backward off the dresser to the floor.
Oblivion swept over him with a vengeance.
****
The return to consciousness was slow.
Everything hurt. That was the first realization-everything hurt . . . but especially his head.
A groan escaped his lips as a large hand came to rest on his shoulder. Was it time for another round? He and Barry had fought against their enemies all that they could. There had just been too many. He had never once dreamed that the cult had so many members. . . .
"Sean. Wake up!"
The voice was familiar . . . and commanding. Sean forced an eye open. He was laying on his side on a cold floor, his braids spread out around him. It was Barry leaning over him, concern written across his face-though Sean could barely see a thing. They had been left in the dark.
Slowly he raised a hand to rub at his head. "What happened?" he mumbled.
Barry sighed. "They weren't playing fair to begin with," he said, "but when we were occupied during the fight, a couple of them crept up and chloroformed us, I think. I saw you go down first. I tried to get to you and then I was assaulted by a sweet-smelling cloth." This he said in a complete deadpan.
"Oh well, that's just great," Sean muttered. "No wonder my head's pounding." He raised up on his hands, glancing around the room. It was large and bare, with only the outline of some kind of podium to the far left. "What is this, the meditation room?"
"Probably," Barry said. "What I'm worried about is where Scott and Elliott are. Caelius obviously has something horrible in mind for them. And when he thinks Elliott is some kind of devil, I hate to think what it is." He clenched a fist.
"He's the devil," Sean retorted. "And what kind of names are Caelius and Prosperus, anyway? It makes me feel like we've gone back to ancient Rome or something."
"I think those are Latin names," Barry sighed. "Maybe everyone in the cult is assigned one?"
"Could be." Now Sean was pushing himself up, wandering around the room and back to the closed double-doors. He grasped hold of the handles, rattling them in desperation. But they held firm. He glowered at them, then looked to Barry.
"How long do you think we've been in here, anyway?"
Barry shook his head. "I don't know. The rain's still coming down, though."
Sean pushed his hat back on his head. "We could've been in here for a couple of hours!" he said. "Or even longer! How long can chloroform last?"
"It depends on the amount they used," Barry said. "But I don't doubt that it could last for more than a couple of hours."
Sean pulled back his sleeve, glancing at his glow-in-the-dark watch. "It's almost eight," he noted. "They must be sitting down to dinner right now."
Barry looked at his own watch. "So we supposedly have four hours to sneak out of here and rescue Scott and El," he said.
"And of course, they've taken our communicators and phones," Sean grumbled. "Not that they'd work in this storm, anyway."
He placed his hands on his hips, glaring at the doors again. "Maybe if we both throw ourselves against them, they'll break loose," he said.
"But what if there's guards outside?" Barry said. "We might just end up in here another time. We need to devise some kind of strategy."
Sean pressed himself against the crack between the doors. "I don't hear anything," he said. He closed one eye and attempted to peer through the opening. "And I don't see anything, either."
"The guards could be standing to the sides," Barry said matter-of-factly.
Sean backed away, blowing out his breath in frustration. "I still say we should take a chance," he said. "Where are they even going to do this ceremony? This looks like the biggest room."
"Maybe it won't be in here," Barry said. "They could be planning to use one of the cabins. One of them looked bigger than the others."
"That's true," Sean frowned. "That patio thing leads up to each cabin, doesn't it?"
Barry nodded. "Even though they want to 'get away from it all', they apparently don't like the mud," he remarked.
Sean ran a hand into his braids in frustration. "If only there was a window in here!" he berated.
"There probably isn't so the great outdoors won't be a meditation distraction," Barry said.
Sean was wandering the length of the room another time. "Maybe there's a secret panel or something," he said. "You know, so the creep can spy on whoever's meditating? Let's look!"
Barry got up too. "It wouldn't hurt," he mused. "But would they really lock us in here if there was an alternate way out?"
Sean ran his hands over the paneled walls. "Who knows," he said. "They might think we'd never find the thing. Or maybe their leader is the only one who even knows about it."
"Maybe," Barry sighed. But he doubted it. Even so, he moved to help Sean anyway.
"I can't believe the people who start up these things," Sean grumbled. "I guess they know there's always suckers who'll fall for their scams. Maybe what I should say is that I can't believe the people who join these things."
"They're lonely," Barry said, "or looking for meaning in their lives. They don't always use their best judgment. And the people who start cults know how to manipulate those vulnerable emotions." He shook his head. "What's most disturbing is when the cult leaders are delusional, instead of actually trying to sucker people into a scam. There's no telling what they're capable of doing."
"You'd think some people would realize the truth," Sean said. "Though I guess some have here-the ones who were trying to contact outside sources." His voice was growing more angry and bitter. "They've probably been killed now, like Caelius wants to do to El. He doesn't seem like he'd let any grass grow under his feet."
From the direction of Sean's voice, as well as the vague outline Barry could see, Sean seemed to be very close by now. Barry reached out, laying a hand on Sean's shoulder.
"It doesn't seem likely that they're alive," he agreed. "But let's not give up yet."
Sean was silent. "There I go again," he said then. "It should be me saying that line."
"We're both furious, but I know this is an especially sore subject for you." Barry placed his hands on the wall as he resumed feeling for a panel.
". . . Yeah." Sean continued the search as well, weariness seeping into his voice amid the anger. "When the Chief told me about the case, I wanted to accept right then. But on the other hand, I didn't want to without talking to you and Scott and El. Even after they've been crushed so bad, they wanted to take the case. And now they're the ones being targeted here. It isn't fair."
"No, it isn't." A bit of anger was in Barry's voice as well.
"And I'm not finding any panels here."
"Ditto."
Sean crossed the room as he returned to the double-doors, throwing himself against them.
"I've had enough of this!" he cried. "Come on, Barry, help me bust the doors in!"
There really did not seem to be any other choice. Barry ran at the doors too. They groaned, weakening.
"Again!" Sean ordered. "Together!"
The two men slammed into the doors. On the other side, one of the guards who was indeed there gave an alarmed yelp.
"They're trying to break out!" exclaimed the one. "What do we do?!"
"Let them come," said the other, remaining far more calm than his companion. "We'll attack after they crash through the doors."
It only took another couple of tries before the doors gave way, banging into the walls on either side of the entrance. Sean and Barry ran out, glaring in defiance at the guards. Both were wearing dark green robes, the hoods pulled over their heads. One lunged at Sean, but was not quick enough. Sean delivered a knock-out punch that sent the creep flying back several feet. Barry likewise attacked the other would-be assailant, dropping him to the floor.
"We'll put them where we were," Sean smirked, dragging the first man through the open doorway. "Let's see how they like it!" He deposited the limp body on the floor and then strolled out while Barry set down the other guard. Together they pushed the doors shut before looking around for something to secure them.
A smirk came over Barry's features as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs. Sean smirked too, watching as Barry hooked the metal cuffs over each handle and snapped them closed.
"Brilliant!" Sean cackled.
But then he frowned, turning to look up and down the halls. They had been making a lot of noise. Why hadn't anyone come to see what was going on? Not that he wanted to be intercepted, but did that mean there really was not anyone else in the main building? What if they were already at the cabin?
He looked back to Barry, who was having similar thoughts. The older man was studying the vacant halls with narrowed eyes.
"Let's go to the front and see whether any of the cabins are lit up," he said.
Sean nodded, his eyes filled with worry. They had to save Scott and Elliott, no matter what it took.
But . . . what would it take?
****
Scott groaned, his eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of the wooden ceiling high above him. He was laying on his back, still on the floor. The sounds of chairs squeaking and silverware clattering were very clear from down here. Was that what had awakened him?
He felt so weak and dizzy. . . . He closed his eyes. Maybe in a moment he would have the strength to get up.
In the dining room, he could hear the clinking of a spoon against a glass. "My dear friends," Caelius's smooth voice announced.
Scott's lip curled in disgust.
"It is with the greatest joy that I tell you my vision is coming to pass."
A murmur of excitement.
"You are all aware of our honored guests by now. And you are also aware of the demon among them. He has been captured and restrained. In less than four hours, the poor man he betrayed will inflict just punishment on this beast. Then we will welcome him into the Brotherhood."
A cheer.
Scott turned his head to the side. "No," he whispered. "No, I won't do it. I'll never do it!"
"Master Caelius, what happened to the window?" one young girl asked. Was she the one they had come here looking for? Did she really believe that such a wicked plan was good?
"Ah, the window," Caelius said. "That was caused by our confused guest Scott. He still does not fully understand what is going to happen to him tonight. In a fit of panic, he broke the window and tried to escape. But we have pacified him."
"Pacified," Scott spat. "I could kick you in the face, I'm so pacified."
But then he sighed. "I've been hanging around Sean too much," he muttered.
He opened his eyes again, aiming to sit up. But he stiffened in horror. He could not move! He was telling his arms and legs to obey him, but they would not cooperate.
What was wrong with him?! His heart raced faster.
He gasped in horror. Could he have broken his back or his neck when he had tumbled off the chest?
Well . . . it could not be his neck, could it? He could move his head from one side to the other. . . .
A new panic swelled in his heart. He could not be paralyzed! But it would only have to take one little break and he would be like that for the rest of his life.
Not that his life would be very long in this place.
Wait. . . . The sweet stuff that had knocked him out. . . . Could a side-effect of it be temporary paralysis? He could not be permanently injured, not if those creeps really wanted him to . . . to . . .
He slumped back into the floor. He would have to think that was it. Otherwise he would just go crazy worrying that he would never be able to move again.
"Master Caelius. . . ." The girl was speaking once more. "What really is going to happen tonight? I don't understand."
"Of course not, my child," Caelius said. "But consider yourself privileged. Tonight you will be entrusted with all of our secrets. Instead of merely explaining, I will let you and all our other guests see for yourselves."
". . . T-thank you, Master." Was the girl just surprised . . . or not so enthusiastic? Scott frowned. He wished she would not be enthusiastic. And if she had any semblance of conscience, he did not see how she could be.
Unconsciousness was threatening to sweep over him again. Should he just let it take him? Or should he fight it? Maybe he would wake up able to move. But he might also wake up finding that it was time for the ceremony.
If he could just get up and sneak out of the room . . . !
What if the guards were back? He did not know whether they were there or not, when he could not turn and look. If they were there, however, they were being extremely quiet. And he would have thought they would come over to look at him if they saw that he was reviving.
"Prosperus, have you checked on the one called Elliott lately?" Caelius asked.
"Yes, Master," Prosperus said. "He is being closely guarded, just as you commanded. When he so much as tries to adjust his position, he is forced to be still."
Hot tears glistened in Scott's eyes. How could they treat Elliott that way?! Worst of all, how could they believe it was right?! At least V.I.L.E. knew they were committing criminal acts when they inflicted injuries. Scott was starting to think these people were worse.
"What about Sean and Barry?" Caelius wondered.
"The chloroform should be wearing off, Master," Prosperus said. "I imagine they are very confused about now."
Confused? Scott frowned. Why would they be confused? What had happened to them, besides being chloroformed?!
"Just as they should be. We shall just let them wander a while.
"After our meal, Prosperus, you are to go and make certain the blond one is properly dressed for the ceremony."
There was no time to wonder where Sean and Barry were wandering. Scott stared up at the window in horror. Prosperus would be coming in here again? And he would have to make sure Scott was dressed properly?! Scott did not want anything to do with the creep, let alone to be dressed by him! And if he still could not move, there would not be anything he could do about it.
Not that there would be anyway; now he was having visions of Prosperus bringing several of his goons and having them all restrain Scott while he was put into whatever they planned for him to wear. He shuddered.
His eyes widened. If he could shudder, then surely he must be getting some feeling back!
He looked to his left hand, fighting to curl the fingers. They moved . . . slightly. But they had moved! He was not paralyzed! He breathed a sigh of indescribable relief.
If he could not make himself regain the full use of the limbs very soon, however, he really would be at Prosperus's mercy.
And from what he had seen, Prosperus had none.
****
Elliott stared blankly at the wooden floor, his left cheek still pressed against the tiles. This was unbearable! He had lost track of how long he had been laying like this. The guards were still surrounding him, kicking and hitting if he even just wanted to stretch his legs or turn onto his side. By now it felt like both feet were asleep, to say nothing of his arms.
He gritted his teeth. No one would tell him anything about the others, either. When he had tried to ask, he had been kicked again and told that he did not care, and that he would not see them until the ceremony.
At least that gave him hope that they were all alive at the moment. But Scott, poor Scott! What he must be going through, after what Caelius had said he had to do . . . ! More than anything, Elliott wanted to be there for him, to comfort him, to tell him that somehow they would get out of this mess. . . .
Even though right now he had no idea how they were going to accomplish that feat. It would take an enormous miracle.
He shifted several inches. His right leg tingled to life and abruptly cramped. He gasped, his lips parting at the sharp pain. Someone was kicking him in the ribs again, but now he could not pay attention to anything except his leg. He gritted his teeth, clutching the floor in desperation with his hands.
And then the cramp passed. He gasped again, going slack on the floor.
"You deserved every second of that pain, demon," hissed one of the guards. "And you moved again. That's another penalty." He kicked out, deliberately hitting the hurt leg.
Elliott cried out as the pain flared.
"And you used your voice," said a second. He bent down, taking hold of Elliott's jaw and squeezing tight. But before he could crush it, he slid his hand down to the hapless brunet's throat and then tightened his grip a second time.
Elliott gasped, his hands flying up to clutch at the cruel man's wrist. "Let go," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes began to water.
At last he was released. He fell back to the floor, shuddering as he gulped in the air.
Someone behind him took hold of his brunet curls, painfully pulling his head back. "Don't step out of line again," the wretch hissed. He let go of Elliott's hair, grabbing him under his arms and thrusting him into the wall.
This time Elliott shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, sliding down in silence. He trembled as he crumpled back to the wooden floor, the agony written across his features.
How would he ever be able to fight when it came time for the ceremony? He would never lay down and give in, but he doubted that anything he tried to do to defend himself and the others would make much difference. Not when he had been beaten so badly he could barely stand.
****
Sean stopped running as he arrived at the dining room. But he could only stare. It was empty, just as every other room had been that he and Barry had found. Aside from the guards they had locked up, the lodge was devoid of life.
"What's going on here?!" he burst out.
He whirled to look at the entryway, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. The door was gone! The huge window was still up there, and he could see the rain pounding down on it, but underneath it was a solid wall.
Barry came up behind him, his eyes narrowed. He had tried to look out a couple of windows that they had passed, but all he had been able to see were trees and hedges blocking the view. It was as if they had been asleep for so long that the shrubbery had grown to epic proportions.
"Are you feeling as much like Rip Van Winkle as I am?" Sean exclaimed.
"If we hadn't seen those guards, I would," Barry deadpanned.
"My next guess would be the Twilight Zone," Sean said.
"It could be Candid Camera," Barry returned.
Sean threw his hands in the air. "Not only is everyone gone, but we have no way out!" He glowered at the picture window. "Unless we want to stack up a bunch of furniture, climb up there, break the glass, and hope we don't break our necks if we try leaping out!"
Barry shook his head. "Let's look in here," he said, crossing the entrance space to the dining room.
But the banquet hall stood silent and abandoned, as if it had not been in use for years. A window at the back led to a bedroom that was also empty, the door standing open and revealing the back hallway.
Sean followed him in, pressing himself against the glass. "What's the point of this?" he frowned. "A bedroom just off the dining room? Who could sleep in there if everyone's eating out here?"
"Maybe the glass is soundproof," Barry suggested.
Sean stalked over to the back of the dining room. There were more double-doors here, leading into the hall. He stepped through, peering up and down the corridor. But there was nothing.
"Scott?!" he called in desperation. "Elliott?!"
His voice echoed along the lonely passageway.
Passageway. . . .
He whirled to look at Barry, who was just coming up behind him. "That's it!" he exclaimed.
"What's it?" Barry grunted.
"My idea about a secret passage is correct!" Sean cried. "This doesn't make much sense, Barry, but hang on. All we can see out the windows are trees and hedges. And there's no outside door. It's almost like we're at the back of the building!"
Barry raised an eyebrow. "You're right, it doesn't make much sense," he said. "Are you saying they have an exact replica of the house's layout on the other side?"
Sean nodded. "Think about it! The way the place is nestled into the woods, you can't ever see the back of it. No one would know or even suspect! Maybe they stick people in here to confuse them."
". . . And the meditation room is at the back of the house as we know it," Barry realized. "That's the only place where the two halves could connect on this floor."
"There's probably something on the higher floors too," Sean said. "But for now let's go back to where we started! I bet we'll find that the unctuous creeps we knocked out have come to and escaped through the panel!" Without waiting for Barry's reply, he took off running.
Shaking his head, Barry followed. It still did not make much sense . . . but it was more logical than anything else they had come up with.
Up ahead, Sean was undoing the key around the handcuffs and hauling the doors open. "Ha!" he called in triumph. "They're gone!" He ran into the room, standing in the middle with his hands on his hips. "Now we just have to figure out where the panel is."
Barry stepped inside next to him. "It would have to be along the back wall," he determined.
Sean nodded. "Excellent deduction!" he said. "Let's go to work!"
With that he hurried to the back wall and began again to tap it.
Barry moved to the other side. Hopefully this would not take long. They had already been wandering all over these floors more than they should have. By the time they could ever get back into the populated part of the lodge, what would be happening to Scott and Elliott?
He was not sure he could bear to know.