Bloody Offering

The pebbles crunch underfoot as Mist pulls Rosary further into the shrine. Despite her calm exterior, Mist’s body screams out in panic, threatening to bolt from the shrine with every step. Only the feeling of Rosary’s calloused fingers intertwined with hers gives her the strength to go on. “Just a little further,” her heart says. “Just do what the Diviner says, and Momo will be all yours.”

“This will be over quickly, so long as you two cooperate,” the Diviner says, swaggering further into the shrine.

“What won’t take long?” Rosary asks, her hand tightening as if waking from a daze.

“We’re performing a ritual,” the Diviner says, voice analytical as she reaches the center of the shrine. “I won’t bore you with the trivial details; all I need is your cooperation… and some blood.” With that, the Diviner pulls a curved blade from her robes, slashing her own wrist and flinging the blood in a circle around her. The blood weaves in mid-air as if following an invisible river. It flows to the ground, painting intricate circles with fractal patterns.

Rosary and Mist stand back to back, eyes fixed on the blood that encircles them and flows underfoot. “My blood will have no part in a profane ritual!” Rosary shouts, reforming her rosary into its kusarigama form and spinning the crucifix.

“It will if you wish to save your friend,” the Diviner says, snapping her fingers. At her prompting, an imp flies from the main shrine building, holding three chalices as big as its body, one sloshing with thick red liquid that gives off a faint metallic scent. Rosary’s eyes flash toward the closing door, but she fails to identify anything.

The imp flies to the Diviner, handing off the full chalice before setting the other two at the edge of the circle, one-third of the circumference apart. The Diviner sips the liquid, then cuts the bracelet on her right wrist and drops the beads into the chalice. The imp retrieves the chalice, flying it to the far end of the circle, dividing the circle into thirds with the chalices. Energized by the liquid, the circle begins glowing faintly as the chalice bubbles and overflows. One by one, demonic figures burst from the chalice, growing in size and number until two dozen demons surround Rosary and Mist.

“Now it’s your turn,” the Diviner says, holding out the knife to them. “Offer your blood as a sacrifice, or your friend’s life is forfeit.” Rosary stands stunned, still.

“This is…” Rosary begins, but her words fail her, stunned by the sheer evil around her. It darkens her vision, burns her nostrils, and turns the saliva in her mouth to vinegar. The Diviner’s smile is beyond wicked, an act of sacrilege itself, like dedicating a brothel to Mother Mary. Rosary tightens her grip, overcome with an unrelenting urge to destroy all before her, only for Mist to move first.

She walks toward the Diviner without the slightest hint of fear or hesitation. She takes the blade, holding the grip firmly as if gathering her resolve. “Can she really do this?” Rosary wonders, holding her breath. “Is her faith strong enough to take a life? Even one so lost as to—” Mist cuts her wrist and Rosary’s thoughts with a single slash.

“Gah,” Mist grunts, dragging the blade across her own wrist. The blade stings, leaving a small red line that flashes as the cut finishes. Blood erupts like a fountain, gushing into the air.

“Offered Blood!” the demons chant as the blood swirls in mid-air, dispensing into an empty chalice. Color fades from Mist’s cheeks as a liter flows from her wrist into the chalice. When the chalice is filled to the brim, the blood stops flowing, reduced to drops on the gravel ground.

“And now the final offering,” the Diviner says, pointing at Rosary. Mist turns to her, pale cheeks nearly glowing against the Diviner’s indigo robes, and takes small, unsteady steps toward Rosary.

“Mist…” Rosary says, unable to believe her own eyes.

“She must have a plan,” Rosary thinks, scrambling to rationalize Mist’s actions. “It’s a ploy to lead the Diviner into a false sense of security, or a diversion. She must be gathering fog around to… to…” But as Rosary looks around, she sees no fog, no sign of a plan, nothing but her most trusted partner handing her the knife.

“Why?” Rosary asks, her eyes pleading for an answer to dash her doubts.

“For…” Mist begins, her voice barely audible.

“For you,” she wants to say, but knows what that’ll entail.

“Queen… Bee…” she finishes. Rosary looks into her partner’s half-dead eyes, eyes that had once been filled with joy, that burned with a passion to fight the enemy, that had inspired her to keep on living just one more day, and sees a branch of withered, rotting fruit.

“I understand,” Rosary says, taking the knife in her hand.

“Offered Blood!” the demons chant as Rosary holds her arm out. “Offered—” The chant stops as Rosary moves. She brings the knife down with all her strength, but not on her wrist. She launches it forward, past Mist, and straight toward the Diviner.

“Gah!” the old woman screams, clutching the bleeding stump where her ear once was. Rosary aims between the Diviner’s eyes, but the imp’s wing is in her path. The wing is severed, but it diverts the knife just enough to save the Diviner’s life.

“Get her!” the Diviner orders, pointing to Rosary’s throwing position, only to find it empty.

*RATTLE*

*BAM*

*SLASH*

Kusarigama rosary in hand, Rosary drives into the surrounding horde, severing limbs and torsos. By the time the Diviner points, five demons are already exorcised. She dodges and parries every counterattack with a rigorous fury, but she’s not fast enough to win outnumbered more than ten-to-one. She’s put on the defensive and surrounded.

“Huh?” she cries, feeling her hand stuck in place before she feels the pain. From a distance, the Diviner points her fingers at Rosary’s palms and feet, extending the nails with pinpoint accuracy. With her tendons cut, Rosary can’t grasp her beads or crucifix, sending them flying into the distance and leaving her defenseless. The surrounding demons grab hold of her, pressing down with the force of mountains.

“Hold her still!” the Diviner commands, grabbing the knife.

“No, don’t hurt her!” Mist begs, grasping the Diviner’s robes. “Isn’t there a way to do the ritual without—”

*SLAP*

Mist falls to the ground as the Diviner’s bony hand impacts her cheek. “Hold her still, too,” the Diviner commands. One of the demons obeys, cracking Mist’s spine as its massive palm holds her still. “Move the chalices and the other two sacrifices,” the Diviner commands, standing before Rosary. The demons scramble to comply; even the imp with the severed wing still carries the only empty chalice, setting it before Rosary’s face.

The double doors of the main building slam open, revealing a gruesome sight. Queen Bee sits strapped to a sinister chair, her skin drained of natural color. The only color comes from her arms, which are stained red, with blood still flowing down the chair arms like a rubber tapping groove. She’s carried to the circle and placed like Mist in front of the chalice filled with her own blood.

“Is this your handiwork, too, traitor?” Rosary asks, looking from Queen Bee to Mist.

“No!” Mist denies, shaking her head. “I couldn’t hurt her or betray you. I—”

“Liar!” Rosary screams, tearing her throat as she wrestles to get free. “I’ll give you one warning: make peace with God now, because once He frees me and I deal with the witch, I’m giving you a traitor’s death!” Her words overflow with unbridled hatred, crushing Mist more than the hand pinning her.

“NO!” Mist cries, tears of blood forming in her eyes. “I just wanted to be with you. I didn’t mean to hurt you or Queen Bee!”

“Oh, didn’t you?” the Diviner says, turning back to Mist with a giddy smile. She pulls a bloody cloth from her pocket and sniffs it. “You remember the first time you three were at this shrine? Remember leaving this cloth behind?” She holds it out in front of Mist, dangling it like a prize. “I can glimpse a person’s sins from a drop of blood, so this cloth is like an encyclopedia.” She drops to a knee, swirling a finger in Mist’s chalice as she continues. “If you didn’t mean to hurt her, then what was the point of sabotaging her Valentine’s Day chocolates?”

“That was you!” Rosary screams, still struggling against the demons.

“Oh yes, this trusted friend of yours snuck into her house and sabotaged them with vinegar. Quite devious, if you ask me, but let’s see what else you’ve been up to.” The Diviner pulls her blood-soaked finger from the chalice and sucks it, savoring it like fine chocolate, a smile stretching ear to ear. “Oh my, you’ve been busy since then, too. Lying about your guardian interactions for a whole month?” she laughs, rising to her feet.

“A whole month?” Rosary asks before connecting the dots herself.

“No!” Mist thinks, seeing her sins listed off.

“Oh yes, and we have those fake tears to start that fight between you and your brother, in a church, no less.”

“Fake tears?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Mist yells, overcoming her fear.

“SHUT UP!” The Diviner silences her with a swift kick to the jaw. Blood oozes from Mist’s mouth, which the Diviner wipes up with a finger. “Oh, and plenty of garden-variety lust and lying, though with your imagination it’s an exotic garden indeed.”

“Stop it! Just stop it.”

“Hmm, but which is most damning?” the Diviner says, skipping over to Rosary and sliding a finger down the curves of her face. “Those carnal thoughts for your best friend, or sneaking back the arch-devil pearl for me?”

“Arch-devil pearl—AH!” Rosary shrieks as the Diviner slashes a small incision into her neck. Blood pours from the wound and flows through the air into the chalice, weakening Rosary with every drop.

“Yes, the reason for her disappearance is this.” The Diviner pulls the pearl from her pocket, its violet color shining brighter than the moon. “Did quite a number on that firefighter’s family home, too; who knows how many died.” As Rosary’s chalice fills, the circle around them spins, generating a circling breeze. “With the tainted blood from these two sinners and the blood of your so-called ‘God’ from you, I can open a portal to the very depths of Hell.” The circle spins faster, rising from the ground. “Then, with you as a sacrifice, I can anchor them to this shrine as my familiar. Forget devils and arch-devils. I could bind a duke, or even a prince! Ahahaha!” The Diviner’s laugh sucks any remaining joy from the shrine. Whipping winds and scattering gravel force even Rosary to close her eyes.

“I need to stop this,” Rosary thinks, digging her nails into the gravel. “I need to get up and put a stop to this. I need—” A burning sensation cuts her thoughts short. Heat pours from the portal, burning her skin and drying her blood instantly. She forces her eyes up, just enough to glimpse Hell spilling out from the portal.

“I need help,” she murmurs, too softly for any mortal ears to hear.