Page 39 of Chapel at Ender’s Ridge (Ender’s Calling #1)

Serpent of Evil

“ Y ou need rest. Humans aren’t meant to stay up this long.” Decker trailed Laurie back into the saloon.

“Willa and Sister Inez haven’t slept.”

“They should.”

Rest wasn’t going to be entertained by any of the three women. They’d stuffed the carcass in a flour sack and waded through drifts of locusts to see how the others fared.

Laurie took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m close, Decker.

I’ve transcribed what things we’ll need for the…

ritual,” he said, stumbling over which words to use.

“Safine should be able to get everything for us from Three Hawks or the mercantile.” His brows knitted together.

“I just—I don’t understand. The other passages talk about the nature of the curse born from such a deep, virulent hatred that it directly contradicts nature.

I wouldn’t have dreamed of it a month ago. ”

“You would have called yourself mad,” Decker supplied.

He straightened from the table. “I suppose so.” Picking up the journal, he flipped to where he left off, tracing the neat, slanting writing. “I feel like I’m still going mad. The longer I look, the more familiar it all seems. ”

Decker slotted a finger in the book and tugged it down so Laurie looked at him. “Rest,” he said. “The transcription will be useless if you make a mistake.”

Laurie snapped the journal shut. “I need to check on one thing at the chapel.” He gathered his notes and tossed over his shoulder, “Come with. I won’t be long.”

“As a neighbor?”

The pink creeping up Laurie’s neck could have been from the falling night whispering through the door. Then he smiled. “If you’d like.”

This is what I’d like, Laurie Lane. Comfort in companionship.

Decker’s lips twitched. “The way you’ve been looking at me all night, I thought you’d changed your mind.”

Laurie made an indignant sound as he breezed out of the saloon. “ You were looking at me .”

“You pressed your leg against mine when I taught you to play faro.”

The front door of the chapel groaned when Laurie pulled it open and stepped inside. Rogue locusts scattered from the disturbance. He turned and leaned in the doorframe, his attempt at confidence betrayed by his breathlessness. “Are you that undone by me, that my leg has taken your common sense?”

Decker tilted his head, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

A game of cat and mouse.

Buried under their quips was a quiet sincerity, like the comfortable silence of a friend.

“I find it difficult to not be undone by you, Laurie Lane.”

“Even as neighbors?”

“Especially as neighbors. ”

A smile touched his face but then it was gone, replaced by a focused press of his lips as he rushed headlong, spilling his thoughts.

“There’s entries about witchcraft and magic; real magic, like changing nothing into something and bending it to your will.

From what I’ve known of Whitton…” He trailed off, seeking agreement.

“He preferred more… physical applications of magic,” Decker said.

“And the handwriting doesn’t quite match…” Laurie murmured half to himself. “I have to grab a letter, I’ll be back,” he said before disappearing into the chapel.

“Laurie—” Decker started, but he was already gone. He resigned himself to leaning one shoulder against the door, listening to the preacher rattle open drawers and shuffle papers.

Pits of sunlight speared the floor through the holes in the roof, and dying locusts left drifts of red-flecked bodies in the corners. New pine boards Laurie and Cricket painstakingly laid for the floor were already weathered and rotted, like the roof had been leaking for months.

But the hail was recent. The chapel had been fixed before.

Leaky boards in the roof couldn’t have caused the circular blemish like the remains of a snuffed-out fire.

There was no reason for black rot to spread tendrils across the floor.

Decker went still as cold talons bristled at his spine.

No.

No, he’d drained him until his face was grey and cold, and he’d buried him under the gravel and rock, six feet under. Meticulous and orchestrated was how he died, the chapel swept clean of any trace of his death afterwards.

He was dead.

Elias Lane was dead.

Laurie rounded the corner in a rush, a single, crumpled letter in his hand. “ This is why the journal seemed familiar—”

“It’s Elias.” Decker’s voice came out hollow, tight, as if he’d swallowed gravel. His gaze fixed on the spreading black stain in the center of the sanctuary, crawling up the pews like mold. A sickly sweet smell filled the chapel, incense masking the decay.

Laurie stopped short. “How did you—”

The chapel shuddered.

Boards snapped, flinging splinters against the walls.

Decker’s face went ashen. “He’s under the floor.”

Elias Lane, no longer a desiccated husk of the man Decker buried three years ago, clawed his way out of the pit below the chapel.

Filth slewed off his preacher’s robes, cloth ripping on the jagged edges of rotten floorboards. Snarls of hair writhed across his face and pale blue eyes snapped with holy fire as he rose to his full stature.

“You buried him under the floor ?” Laurie shrank back against the wall, fear pitching his voice into a horrified whisper.

Elias snarled and the mangled sound reverberated in Decker’s chest. Acrid incense flooded the room, lips spewing clouds of the suffocating smoke.

“I am the prophet, willed by God,” Elias rasped, his arms raising.

The twisted metal stands on both sides of the pulpit rattled and shook, flying together with a teeth-aching clang, the metal writhing and shimmering as white candles rolled to Laurie’s feet.

Impossible.

This was impossible. Conjuring plagues from beyond the grave, rising from the grave and looking like not a day had passed was impossible.

The candlesticks thrashed and transformed, hammered metal flashing into black scales, floor shredding as the metallic snake writhed and hissed in front of its master, the resurrected reverend Elias Lane.

As thick as a man’s waist, the serpent rose up, its jaw gaping impossibly wide, glinting with venom-tipped fangs. It towered in the sanctuary like an ancient god, red eyes slitted.

Laurie cried out, stumbling along the wall further into the chapel. Pages of notes scattered behind him like shed angel-feathers. The building shuddered as the serpent crashed into the wall, its fangs leaving a smear of milky venom across the wood after it twisted free.

Decker lunged. Sparks snapped at him and he jolted back.

His chest hollowed.

Laurie hadn’t invited him in.

The barrier born from God or more ancient practices seethed against him, crackling and gnashing at his hands, holding its breath for a blessing to enter while Decker beat against it, tearing at the invisible curtain keeping him from Laurie.

“Uncle Elias, please,” Laurie begged as he backed between pews, his hands raised in a perfect mirror of the preacher.

The serpent poised, its face twisted like its master’s before it struck again .

Laurie spun and darted away, further into the church, away from him.

Shined pews snapped under the weight of the serpent as it fell heavily, its jaws snapping at Laurie’s heels.

“Tell me to enter! You need to tell me !” Decker snarled, the boundary shuddering against his nails prying into the fabric.

Laurie cast a glance at him, wild-eyed and tight-lipped. He backed further away.

You’re not the son of God, you’re just a man. Please.

Venom dripped from the serpent's fangs and sizzled against the floor as it reared back in a poised coil. The Prophet’s arms vibrated with excitement, robes cutting through the thick fog of incense.

His voice rumbled and swelled with the tenor of an off-key choir.

“You are led astray. You will be cleansed—”

“ Stop. ” Laurie’s shaken command was little more than a whisper fallen from pale lips. “Stop all of this and you can have me. I” —his determination wavered— “I am the evil here, not them. I was led astray by my own mind.”

The sacrificial lamb, bleating lies all the way to its slaughter.

The idiot. The foolish, selfless, perfect, idiot.

“Laurie, please.” Decker’s voice didn’t sound like his own. His eyes met Laurie’s gaze, beseeching.

Begging.

His distraction was deadly.

Scales sang as the serpent struck.

Rotted wood gave way under Laurie and he lost his footing, crying out as fangs sunk into his trapped leg and dragged him back. Laurie’s hands scrabbled against slick scales as they tightened, coiling around him until his arms pinned to his sides .

Decker slammed his hands against the veil, again and again and again, invisible sparks burning through his shirt and blistering his arms.

Faith scrawled across Laurie’s face like splattered ink and Decker knew he would trade his life before letting him in. There was no plan, just pure, foolish, desperate sacrifice.

Laurie struggled against the serpent, unintelligible words crushed from him, praying and begging and pleading and yet, not a single permissive word towards him.

“Say it!” Decker’s hands shook, the barrier straining against him.

Laurie’s bones snapped. A scream ripped from him, wet and horrible.

But it was enough.

The barrier dropped with his broken permission and Decker sprang at the serpent, nails tearing and teeth snapping as he dragged it down. Rage lashed out as he did, and he was a venom-drenched blur, eyes blazing red.

Elias was gone, but the choking, enveloping incense remained like a ghost.

Laurie slumped to the side of the fray as if he was a rag doll, limp and washed out and ragged.

Fangs clattered to the floor and a rumbling hiss burst from the serpent, lashing out at him with a gaping maw of broken teeth.

Missed me.

It struck again. Catching its snapping jaw, he hissed when shattered teeth cut into his palms and pierced them through. Decker braced himself in front of Laurie’s broken body.

The serpent forced him back, forked tongue lashing against him. Venom smoked on Decker’s arms, curling and twisting into his skin. He staggered, the hiss of decaying breath hot in his face, and Decker snarled back.

This can’t be how we end.

Strength flooded him with the might of a man between pillars, and he tore his hands apart. Skin and scale and sinew stretched, resisting, snapping.

The serpent's terrible face rolled to the floor, its dangling jaw ripped in two.

Laurie’s broken fingers twitched, reaching for him.