Both the director and his partner were glued to their computer screens and wouldn't acknowledge him, so he went around the desk and stood in front of them. He couldn't help noticing that the director was fooling around on E-Bay looking at lace curtains. Your tax dollars at work.

"Ah, you're not supposed to be back here," the director said. "It's employees only."

For emphasis, he pointed to a sign on the wall.

"I need to find the vertical files on local history," he said.

"Ah, those don't go out."

"I know they don't go out," Erik said, as if speaking to a child. "I don't want to take them out. I just want to look at them."

"What for?"

"What is this, twenty questions? Not that it's any of your business, but I'm doing research for a story I'm writing. I need to see the files. This is a library, isn't it?"

Erik made a silent vow to speak to someone on the town council about this idiot.

"Ah, yeah. It's just that no one ever looks at those files."

"Well I want to look at them."

The director looked at him for a moment, then decided Erik meant business and was likely to cause trouble if he didn't get what he wanted.

"Ted, could you show this guy the vertical files and open them? I'm kind of busy right now."

The dwarfish man scowled and walked off into the stacks of books at the rear of the library. Although both of these men were in their early thirties, they acted like old mena"like trolls, Erik thought, guarding their little treasures under the bridge. God forbid that anyone would actually want to use any of the library materials. They must both have political connections, he thought, or else they'd never be able to keep their jobs.

The vertical file was exactly thata"a tall, green metal filing cabinet filled with filesa"most of them misplaced. When the librarian opened the door, it kicked up a wad of dust that must have been fifty years old.

"Let me know when you're done so I can lock it back up," Ted said, then shuffled back to his computer.

The files seemed to be in random order, and most weren't even labeled. Erik pulled out a packet of old photographs of the World War I veterans' reunion filed with an old Providence Journal article about fly fishing in Western Rhode Island. None of it made any sense. It was almost as if no one wanted anything to be found.

After going through half of the top drawer, Erik was just about to give up when he came across a photograph and an article from the Chepachet Call, dated July, 1943.

"Ancient Altar Stone Found by Youth" the title of the article said. Underneath the title was a reprint of the photograph in the file.

The photo was of a huge black stone, an altar stone, set in the center of a clearing in the forest. Although the size was difficult to judge in the picture, the thing looked to be about eight feet long, three feet wide, and raised about three feet off the ground like a bed. What really troubled him, though, was that the thing was a deep, shiny black, like obsidian. It looked exactly like the rock that Todd had described.

The article went on to say that two boys had been playing in the woods and had found the rock. The boys had found George Fleming, the reporter and editor for the local newspaper, and he had accompanied them and had taken the photograph. Fleming speculated in the article that the stone might have been an ancient Viking stonea"the Vikings had visited Newport and other areas along the East Coast, so why not here?

Behind the article, though, Erik found another one from the same writer and the same paper, proclaiming the whole thing a hoax. In the article, Fleming apologized for making up the story and involving the boys. The altar didn't exist and never had existed, he said.

Erik frowned and made photocopies of both the articles and the pictures. He'd have to show this to Todda"and maybe to Dovecrest and the Sheriff as well.

-2-.

Erik stopped at Burger King on his way home and brought lunch for everyone. He found Todd in his room coloring on a loose leaf notebook.

"What ya doing, Sport?" he said.

"Nothin'," Todd replied.

"Well it looks like you're doing something."

"I'm just coloring a picture."

Todd looked over his son's shoulder at the drawing, and his heart chilled. It was a picture of the black rock in a field with a full yellow moon overhead.

"Is that the rock you saw?" he asked.

"Yeah. That's it. But nobody believes me."

"I believe you, Todd."

"No you don't. You're just saying that to make me feel good."

Erik took a deep breath, then pulled the pulled the photograph from his notebook and extended it towards his son. The boy's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

"See, it is real," he said. "I told you it was."

"Yes, it is," Erik said. "Now, come on down and let's get some lunch. I brought you back a burger and fries."

"Ok," Todd said.

"Oh, and just one more thing. Don't tell your mother about this. At least not yet. Not until I figure out what to do about it."

"Ok, Dad. Just...just don't take too long."

-3-.

Seti spent the afternoon playing with the teenage girl until he became bored with her. She was pretty and innocent, but he knew that she was a slut and must have enjoyed it. They all did, even when they cried and screamed and whimpered. They all wanted it, deep down inside. He'd done everything to her that he could imagine, and had let his followers have her as well, while he watched. But now the girl was little more than a zombie, staring at him glassy-eyed and without emotion, no longer conscious of him or of her surroundings. Like a rotten fruit, she'd spoiled much too soon, he thought.

He looked at her for a moment and almost felt sorry. She looked like she'd been in a train wreck. Her hair was tangled and plastered with dirt, blood, and other bodily fluids. Her left eye was swollen shut and her nose was battered and broken. If he could have felt any emotions, he would have felt sorrow. But instead, he just felt empty. Besides, he knew she had loved every minute of it. They all did.

"Be patient," the voice cautioned. "Wait until the sun goes down. Then you will bring her to me and I will begin the process of becoming complete."

"Yes," Seti said. "When the sun goes down." He only had an hour or so to wait. And then his dreams would be fulfilled.

"I will go gather the others and prepare," he said, "for when the sun goes down."

Then he kicked the girl to the side of his small camper and went out to gather his followers.

-4-.

Dovecrest had planned to go and see the boy and his father, but he'd seen Erik drive by in the morning, and he never did quite find the energy to stop by in the afternoon. Now that the sun had set, he knew he had waited too long and would have to act on his own. He'd forgotten how the voice could influence youa"sometimes, the influence was just to do nothing. It seemed to tap one's strength, one's willpower and one's energy. Sometimes it caused people to do things; other times it caused people to just sit on the couch like a vegetable, and watch the world go by.

Yes, Dovecrest thought. It's been working on my mind.

He knew that tonight was something big, something important. For one thing, the entity had left him alone for the last hour or soa"he no longer felt its presence like a heavy blanket over his face. That meant it was occupied with other things. Like the girl he had taken.

It had taken the cat, and that had made it stronger. The life of a teenage girl would be most prized and would bring its strength to a new level. The girl was still alive. It had waited until the time was right. Now that the search party had left the woods and the police were concentrating on Route 102, it had the chance it was waiting for. He might not be able to stop the monster, or even stop the pawn it was using tonight, but if he could snatch the girl away, he might at least buy a little more timea"and a child's life.

This time he didn't take the rifle, but stuffed the Beretta into his waistband, just in case. It wouldn't have any effect on the entity, but a .45 caliper hollow-point could sure do some damage to its human helpers.

Dovecrest stiffened his shoulders and went out the back door. I am getting way too old for this, he thought, as he walked into the woods, relying only on his instincts to guide him. He knew where it would happena"he had always known that. And now he knew when it would happen as well, at least this first installment of horror, anyway. There would be more versions after this, new and improved versions, but he couldn't worry about that now. One thing at a time.

He picked his way through the woods as effortlessly as if he were crossing his own bedroom. He had lived here for more than a lifetime, and had made it his business to know this land. It, and the knowledge of what was about to happen, were his only advantages.

The altar stone wasn't very far away in terms of mileagea"only about a half mile as the crow fliesa"but it was centuries away in terms of time. Dovecrest could almost feel himself traveling back in time as he walked. He felt the decades, the centuries peel away as he returned to a more primitive time, a time when good and evil were stripped of their trappings and laid bare for the world to see. A world where evil existed in its most pure, unadulterated form, not camouflaged by politics or culture or religion. This was a world where it dared to show itself as it was, without shame and without excuse, a world where it did not hide or justify its existence, but challenged good men to stare it in the eye.

As Dovecrest made his journey, he felt some of the old power returning to him, and even as he did he realized that he had made one critical mistake. He had failed to purify himself properly and make peace with God. How could one do battle against evil without seeking the protection of its counterpart? It had been easier in the old times, when worship was part of the daily life. Now, not even his own people believed anymore. And the white man was not much better. Sure, he made his weekly pilgrimage to whatever church he attended. He worshipped faithfully and then returned to his everyday life of lying, cheating, stealing....

But it was too late for such thoughts now, and he felt himself weakening beneath his own doubt, even as he felt the strength of the entity growing near. He was close to the altar now, and he could feel its presence radiating throughout this place. The white man was strange, he thoughta"he equated graveyards with supernatural power. That wasn't to say there was no power in those places of death. But the truly powerful, once they were set free, preferred to infest and infect places of life and power, places where they felt strong and secure. This was such a place, and now it was cursed with this awful and awesome power, which would only grow stronger with each new death.

Dovecrest heard the sound of voices ahead and he knew he was near. He stopped and moved forward slowly to the edge of the clearing. He slipped behind the trunk of an ancient, withered oak tree and watched.

There were thirteen of them, as he had expected, carrying torches and dancing naked around the ancient stone. It would have almost looked comical if he didn't know what was happening. It was the kind of thing they would make documentaries about, and show them on cable TV, and people would laugh and say, "look at those idiots, can you imagine!" Only this was not funny, and although much of it was little more than a silly ritual to entertain the thirteen, who, of course, needed carnal pleasures for their own fulfillment, the essence of it all was very real and very serious.

The realness of it all became very clear when he saw the naked body of the teenage girl being laid out on the altar stone. Dovecrest hunkered down behind the tree and waited for his chance. If it came, the opportunity would be swift and fleeting.

-5-.

After dinner, Erik used the excuse that he was going out to the plaza to check on news of the missing girl, and then he went to see Dovecrest. He actually did stop at the plaza, which was now a makeshift command post, of sorts. But they told him what he already knewa"there were no new leads in the case. He looked for Sheriff Roy and couldn't find hima"he was going to show him the pictures of the altar stone and ask him about them. But he did find Pastor Mark, who had been offering some comfort to the missing girl's mother earlier.

"Erik, I wanted to thank you for your help last night," Mark said.

"Oh, it's nothing. It could be my kid out there."

"These are very sad times. Very sad times."

Erik made some small talk as he tried to figure out how to ask the pastor about the altar stone. Finally, he decided to just jump in.

"Pastor, do you have a minute? There's something important that I'd like to share with you?"

"Why sure, Erik. What is it?"

Erik led him over to his car and took the folder containing the picture and the article from the front seat.

"Pastor, I've been doing some research and I think something very strange and unsettling is going on here. I'm not sure what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, these woods.... Here. Look at this stuff I found in the library."

Pastor Mark looked at the picture and read the article, then the retraction that followed later.

"What are you saying, Erik? That this stuff is real?"

Erik went on to explain what had happened to Todd, and what the boy had told him. Then he told him about Steve Harvey, the radio talk show host, and his story.

"I don't know if any of these things are connected or not, or how it all adds up, but even the sheriff thinks there have been some weird goings on here. And now we have a missing girl."

Mark rubbed his forehead for a long moment. "So you think this...thing, this rock is out there in the woods somewhere? Why hasn't anyone found it?"

"Because I don't think it wants us to find it. Look, I know this stuff all sounds crazy and I'm probably being paranoid because my son got lost in the woods a couple nights ago and now this teenage girl has disappeared. But I had to share this with someone. If I'm wrong you'd at least be the guy to help me out."

"Well, I am from the old school, the conservative school...."

"And what I'm saying is *New Age', right?"

"On the contrary. The Bible teaches that Satan exists and that there are demons. That was true in ancient times. Why wouldn't it be true today?"

"So you think this is possible?"

"Possible, yes. I'll admit that I'm not convinced yet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It just means I haven't been convinced yet."

"So what should we do?"

"I think we should begin by seeing if this altar stone really does exist."

"If it does, I know one man who could lead us to it. Johnny Dovecrest. I'm sure he knows something about all this."

Mark nodded. "Then let's go pay him a visit."

-6-.

Seti watched his followers dance naked around the altar. There was Rhonda, the dark-haired one, so pregnant that she might burst open at any second. She disgusted him now, but the brat might have a use. And there was Marion and Monique, the twins. Fine young bodies and great in beda"especially together. Crissy, the blonde, with the perky, upturned breasts and the expert tongue. Shanika, the black one with the hard body. And Rosea, the brunette, plump and juicy.

And the men. Seti wasn't as interested in the men, though he had gone both ways. Frank, the electrician, a little rough around the edges but very easy to control. And Jack, the schoolteacher, so gay that it hurt to watch him walk. Bud, the ex-cop who had been drummed out of the force for messing with children. Tony, the ex-stripper whose life was one drama after another. That one was going to be replaced, Seti voweda"he'd had enough of his emotional outbursts and pouting. The others were easy to control, but this one was emotional and unstable. He wouldn't last much longer. Then there was Pete, just 16 and a runaway. Seti imagined this life of sex and scandal was a fantasy come true for this cast-off teen. And finally, Ryan, the cold, quiet one. Sometimes Seti worried about what might be going on in that dark mind.

They were finishing the dance now, and it was almost time. Seti felt the ceremonial knife in his hand and licked his lips in anticipation. He felt the entity quivering in his mind, almost orgasmic with anticipation.

Guided by the voice, he walked closer to the altar, past the ring of dancers, and looked at the girl. She looked back at him through one good eye with a gaze that showed no fear, only resignation. Just get it over with, she seemed to say, though her lips did not move. Ah, Little Girl, he thought. If only it were that easy. A quick, painless death would be so easy. But it was not about to happen. He had something more for her in mind. Her suffering was like food, her pain like nectar to this unseen god. And he so very much needed to feast.

Seti lifted his arms up over his head, pointing the knife up towards the moon. The dancers stopped, on cue. The time had come.

"Master," he said. "I give you this child's suffering as my gift to you. May you feast and grow strong."

He lowered the knife to her hearta"merely a tease, since he wouldn't cut deep enough to kill, but just deep enough to begin a cut that would open her up for all to see. Then he and the dancers could feed on her still-living entrails while the demon fed on her pain. He felt the knife pierce the tender skin, and the first drops of blood spill forth. He pulled a drop of blood up with his finger and licked it off.

Then he felt a sudden impact in his side, just below his shoulder. He felt the impact before he felt the pain or heard the loud crack of the gun. The sudden jolt sent the knife deep into the girl's flesh, much deeper than he intended and straight into her heart. She jolted upright, her body almost pulling the blade into her, and her eyes bubbled up in her head. Seti dropped the knife and reeled to face his attacker as another bullet flew past his left ear. A madman was dashing across the open field, shooting a semi-automatic pistol as he ran.

"Stop him!" Seti shouted, as the voice in his brain suddenly shrieked.

His followers immediately surrounded him, and he saw Tony go down, holding his chest. Good riddance, Seti thought, as he knelt down on the ground, holding his own side. His wound wasn't fatal, he knew, but it would need treatment.

He saw his followers flee; only Ryan turned to face his attacker. Even the ex-cop ran away from the onslaught.