Hauntings (25 page)

              “It is a mystery, isn't it,” She replied. I'm going to make some hot chocolate in a bit for a night cap. Would you like some? It's my specialty.”

              “I would love a mug of cocoa. Thank you,” Oswald replied and returned to his work.

              “Do you think they sang at the sacrifice, or chanted along with the priest? Or do you think they only observed, or did some of them have to restrain the victim?  I can't imagine anyone volunteering to be the sacrifice can you? Even if someone did volunteer how could he remain still knowing the priest was about to kill them? ”

              “Maybe the sacrifice is drugged so he doesn't know what is happening to him.” Clara offered.

              “Perhaps, but what drugs did they have back then strong enough to have such a sedating effect?”

              “How would I know that? You're the expert here,” Clara said handing him a steaming hot mug of cocoa topped with a dab of whipped cream on top.

              “This looks delicious. Do I smell a hint of peppermint?” Oswald asked  accepting the hot chocolate.

              “This is my secret recipe. If I told you, everyone would expect me to tell them too. It's not going to happen. Clara replied then took a sip from her mug. “Hmm that's just what I need to end the day.”  Oswald noticed Clara's forehead appeared to glisten just a bit with perspiration.

              Clara are you feeling all right?” he asked concerned that she may be coming down with something.

              “I never felt better,”

              Oswald took a sip of his cocoa. “Oh, that is good,” he said then took another sip. “you know what would be good with this? Some butter cookies.”

              “No such luck there Ozzie. I didn't come prepared with cookies today, only cocoa.”

              Clara walked back into the kitchen and had a seat at the table and waited. Oswald remained at the desk, going over the Druid book and typing notes to himself on his laptop. He took another sip of his hot chocolate, then another.

              “Is there a chance of getting refill on the cocoa?” he called to Clara.

              “Just let me know when you're done. I'll pour you another cup.” Oswald took his mug in hand and guzzled it down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

              “I'm ready for seconds,”  he said getting up from his seat, a bit too quickly, Oswald had to reach for the back of the chair to steady himself almost tipping the chair over. Clara heard the commotion, and hurried into the living room, with the pot of cocoa in her hand.

              “Oswald, why don't you just sit down and I'll pour you that second cup.”  Oswald sat down hard on the chair.

              “Woah, I'm feeling woozy. What do you have in that cocoa?”

              “Like I said, it's a secret. Enjoy,” Clara replied refilling Oswald's mug to the brim. Then helping him bring the mug back up to his lips. He sipped  from the mug as Clara helped him by holding the mug to his lips.

              The front door opened and quietly Aleister stepped inside.

              “It is time Clara. Is he ready?”

              “As ready as anyone can be I suppose. Then to Oswald, have another sip. It will keep you warm tonight.” Oswald willingly obliged and drank a little more of the hot chocolate.

              “I don't think he can walk on his own.” Clara advised Aleister.

              “Well then we will help him.” Aleister signaled to someone outside, and Fred came in wearing a black habit. His hood was down around his shoulders exposing his grim face.

              “You know what to do. “ Aleister said pointing to Oswald. Fred walked to Oswald, grabbed him under the arms, and hoisted him to a standing position.

              “Time to go, buddy,” he said helping Oswald walk into the kitchen and then out the door.

              There were others outside lighting the way with flashlights. A second man came beside Oswald, and helped Fred lead and support Oswald down the path through the woods to the altar. Oswald thought it might be the grocer, but he couldn't be sure. He saw amber lights up ahead. Every standing stone held   what looked to be a tiki torch roughly six feet tall. Each torch was burning brightly providing more than enough light to view the festivities.

             
Oswald was sure this must be a dream.
His vision would blur and then would come back into focus. Fred and Aleister led Oswald to the altar and made him lay down. Oswald watched what was going on with intense interest. He was surrounded by people dressed in black habits. Everyone wore their hood up, except Fred, who after leaving Oswald at the altar lifted his own hood over his head. Oswald could not make out anyones face in the flickering light. Aleister left Oswald's side at the altar for a moment, but quickly returned wearing a burgundy habit, his hood lay about his shoulders like a cowl.

              Oswald lay motionless on the altar top, he could barely move his eyes, lifting a finger was out of the question.
Sleep paralysis, that must be what it is, I'm asleep,dreaming of the Druid's ritual, its sleep paralysis, thats all,
Oswald thought as he watched the proceedings.

              Aleister lifted his hands to the sky and began reciting words without any meaning Oswald could understand. It was a foreign tongue, an ancient tongue, the words rolled off of Aleister's lips as if this was his native language.

              The others stood surrounding the altar, watching intently keeping their eyes on their high priest, their Druid.

              Aleister raised his voice louder and the other's joined in chanting words, words Oswald thought he should know from the book, but knew he could never pronounce. These were words not meant for human lips.

              Oswald looked to the sky. There was a white light shining from behind the clouds.
It must be the moon,
he thought.

              The first flakes of snow falling from the sky were beautiful, glistening in the flickering torchlight. Oswald watched the sky and listened to the people chant. The clouds slowly gave way and let the moon appear in the nights sky. Oswald felt at peace.

              Small birds flew overhead, swooping first one way and then the next, and then back again. Aleister brought his arms down and took a blade from the altar and raised it in both hands above his head. It was a nasty looking piece of work. Black with age, too large to be a dagger, too small to be a sword, it looked to be sharp though.

             
That's a good thing, good to be sharp,
Oswald thought.               The sky swirled then appeared to open into a vortex of many indescribable colors. Colors swirling dancing wildly in the night's sky. Sparrows circled overhead, they appeared to fade in the dark, reappear, then fade away again. The chanting came to a crescendo and suddenly intense pain, beyond description gripped Oswald in the chest as Aleister's dagger split Oswald's sternum in two like just so much butter. It felt as if hot hot coals were  burning through his center when Aleister reached into his chest, then pulled something red, something dripping blood high in the air above the altar. Oswald gasped his last breath, releasing his spirit, following the sparrows into the nights sky silently closing the swirling window above.