Jonah began to page through the book. By the light from his phone, he was barely able to read the thin curved lines of Samson’s pen. The creaking and moving of the shelves had died out, leaving nothing but dark silence in the bowels of the library. He had hoped that Ashlyn had heard the creaking and had gone upstairs to fetch the librarian or the maintenance manager. His heart sank as he turned his phone over. It was twenty after seven and no one had come to see if he was down in the basement. He knew he was trapped at least until tomorrow morning but likely through the weekend. He considered leaving his dark prison and breaking down the steel door. Even if he could, he would have to deal with whatever was in the basement with him. He tried to shake the jitters off as it just being a trick of the light or an optical illusion. He turned back to the book, hoping it would calm his nerves, delving into the first line.

The Last Days of Samson Abelien: These are my final words.

To my brother Jonah,

In the next several days you are going to see and hear things I know in your heart you do not believe to be real. The world as you see can be explained away in facts and reason. I know my evangelizing to you has never been something you particularly wanted but I am pleading to you now from the depths of my heart to please listen to what I have to say.

I always considered myself a faithful man. Driven by the Word of God as spoken through the Scriptures. I knew there was sin and death, but I did not know the depths of the world and horrors it hides. Not more than three months ago I was beaten, bound, and buried in a stone casket, pushed to the bottom of an underground lake, waiting for the inevitable death that I was sure to receive. When, like Lazarus, the Lord saw fit send me an angel who broke me from my prison and lifted me back to the land of the living. I thought he was taking me to heaven, yet he said the Lord had not called me home. He instructed me that the demon would not stop until the world had been scorched. From there he told me a history long forgotten but true, nevertheless.

Since the tearing of the veil at Golgotha, there has been an overflow of hell spawn on the earth. The church and those who practice the spiritual crafts were tasked by the angels to build a clan of sorts, a first line of defense against those things that wish to drag the rest of the humanity down into the abyss. The clan took various shapes throughout the years, soldiers, knights, priests, shamans, and witch doctors. But none more than the Free Masons who built lodges in the continental United States. These lodges were fortresses designed to keep the vile creatures of hell exactly where they were. In 1921, however, something went terribly wrong. I don’t know what and the angel was not inclined to share it with me. All I know is that any of the masons who learned of the darkness and were willing to stand at the gates vanished off the earth. Whether they were dead or gone it did not matter, they no longer existed.

We are nearing the hundred-year anniversary of this bloodbath and when that day comes, I doubt even the angels can save us. That is why we must act quickly. I can feel your skepticism through the pen, but I need you to believe me. I would have seen a psychiatrist or someone if I had heard this story at any other time. Yet after the beating and the drowning, I can’t look at this as some head game my mind is playing on me. There is evil and they are growing stronger by the day.

The demon who attacked me was looking to resurrect a monster possessing the body of a Latino woman named Nevara Florentino. I left you the journal from the Mason who inevitably buried her in the earth, but he didn’t say where. That is my burden to bear, and it will likely lead me to the pearly gates. After my time with the angel I have been traveling searching for her resting place, checking graveyard after graveyard, constantly being pursued by a dark shadowy force hiding in the trees. Its eerie blue eyes follow me like a lantern wherever I go. Whether this is Saint or some hell spawn he entrusted to do his bidding it is clear to me that he intends to finish the job he started. I narrowly escaped him in Charleston, but I feel my time is nearing close to the end. I have made the trip up to Boston to leave this for you. Please brother, I need your help with one very particular situation.

In the next five months a demon from the darkest corner of hell will be looking for one person in particular, a woman named Ashlyn Bird. She was the organist for my church, and she is in great danger. I need you to take her to Annapolis, Maryland. There is convent there called the Blessing of Rahab. I was told a woman by the name of Hazel would take care of her. Hazel is aware of your arrival and will have further instructions once you are there. Please Jonah, this means more to me than I can possibly put into words.

Included are my notes through my last three months of travels. I am sorry to have to drag you into this. I am sorry for a lot of things, but this is where we are now. Perhaps one day you and I will be reunited in heaven. I would very much enjoy that.

Blessings now and the years to come.

Samson

Jonah tossed the book away from him. He was growing tired of the constant looming presence of hell and demons that Samson and Ashlyn kept going on about. The events of the last few hours were strange, but they could easily be explained away by bad luck and superstition. He inhaled and checked the time on his phone again. Quarter past eight. As he looked at the phone, he noticed it was only at 25% battery life and once it died that would be the last source of light he would have. He quickly put the phone to sleep and tried to feel for the door. As he reached his hand up to the door, he herd the knob click. The slow rattling of the metal twisted and strained. Jonah shot his hand back and held himself close to the chair. The knob continued to turn and click, as if someone was pulling on the lock.

Pinning his face to the floor, he crawled on the all fours to the small opening at the base of the door. In the blackness it was impossible to see anything, but he hoped he could see the shape of a foot. Perhaps Ashlyn had gotten someone from the library staff, and they didn’t know he was down here. He thought about calling out but quickly remembered the swaying of the shelves, the rustling, creaking movement, and decided not to give away his position. He peered under the door, taking careful note not to make any sound. He couldn’t see anything the bit of shapes slowly taking form as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He was certain all he was seeing was just the shelves. He was about to pull away when the slow creaking sound returned, this time on the door itself. The door waned against some unknown pressure as if someone was leaning their shoulder into it, trying to slowly push the door open without turning the lock.

As the creaking continued, he started to hear small scratches on the wood, traveling slowly down to the base of the door. Jonah kept his eye fixated on the tiny opening hoping to see anything. He nearly let out a scream as a small bony finger with a long-jagged nail dug into the carpet, as did another until two full, long bony hands were digging deep into the carpet. He could tell from the way they were positioned that whoever was out there was doing a handstand against the door. Jonah thought about looking away, yet he felt any movement at this point would alert the person to his whereabouts. As he lay there looking, trying to pick out what decrepit person would have such mangled hand the person’s head dropped, looking right under the door with pale blue eyes.

The suddenness frightened Jonah and he let out a small scream, quickly grabbing his mouth to muffle the sound, but it was too late. The blue-eyed fiend had leapt off the door and was reaching its bony hand under the gap, attempting to grab Jonah with its long nails. Jonah scrambled away from the door, knocking over another chair whose oak frame swung and landed on the disgusting fingers, causing the thing that owned them to draw them back with a muddled hiss. Jonah held his breath, doing all he could not to cry. He began to rationalize what he had seen. Perhaps the caretaker was old and unmanicured. Diseased and sickly to account for the bony appearance, and the blue eyes were just a brand of contacts he hadn’t see before. Such as ones that help someone see in the dark. Jonah nodded his head as if all those were all very possible. Even though he told himself that it was all just a head game he could not open the door.

The rattling started up again only this time much more violent. The knob twisted and turned harshly, bending against the wood. Jonah grabbed Samson’s book and held it close to his chest, praying whoever it was would go away. After a minute the shaking stopped. Jonah wiped the sweat from his eyes just as a loud pounding started. He clutched the book even tighter. The pounding banged against the door with the loud fury of someone who was not only announcing their presence but was attempting to remove the door from its hinges. The pounding got quieter bit by bit until there was nothing but the familiar small scratches against the door. He thought about reaching for his phone, even though the slight bit of light might bring the sickly creature back.

After what seemed like an hour Jonah moved his head. He reluctantly checked his phone. It was just after nine thirty and his phone was at a mere seven percent. Holding his breath, he listened for everything, even something as simple as the smallest sound of the heater kicking on or the almost nonexistent sound of the traffic above him. There was nothing. He removed the book from his chest and began to crawl again, slowly inching his way towards the door. He made it to the gap slowly arching his head to see what was beyond; as he moved his head, he made eye contact with the pale blue eyes still hanging just above the gap. Returning its long nails to the carpet, puncturing them deep into the fibers. It did not break its gaze when Jonah’s eyes met it. With a simple click of its thumb it let out a cool breath of air.

“Jonah,” it said in an empty distant voice.

He froze, waiting for the fingers to make their way through the gap and pierce his eye. The thing blinked, still staring directly at him.

“Jonah,” it whispered again.

Jonah didn’t know what to do. He prayed he was just being paranoid, that the odd person behind the door was just trying to help.

“Yes…,” he said meekly.

Before he had time to react, the sharp nailed hand slashed under the gap, cutting deep into his forehead. He pulled back as the hands thrashed under the door, cutting into the carpet, digging frantically at Jonah. He tried to crush the hands with the spine of Samson’s book, slamming it wildly as the hands clawed at him. He knew he couldn’t stay in the room, eventually this thing would break through. Holding his breath, he jumped to his feet and unlocked the door; with a violent swing, he bolted through the door, sending the creature off its balance crashing into one of the metal shelving racks, rocking the shelf back and forth.

Jonah ran wildly through the archives, jumping and dodging trying to find the large steel door. The creature pulled itself up and jumped onto the shelving unit, digging its nails into the metal as it climbed to the top. Jonah hid behind what he thought was a shelving unit. Pinning himself to the floor. The creature jumped back and forth from the shelf to the wall, each time digging its long nail into the surface of its choice. The low husk of its breath would have made Jonah think it was a wild animal if it had not just spoken to him. As quietly as he could, he crawled to the far facing wall, slowly reaching into his pocket, he pinched the top of his phone and pulled it out. He needed to see if there was any service to make a call. Given that the steel door was likely still locked and Ashlyn was looking for help he guessed this was his only option.

He clicked the light on only to have his hopes dashed as there was no service. His battery twinkling at only one percent. In the pale glow he looked to the top of one of the shelves where a thin reptilian tail slipped out of view. He raised the light up the shelves hoping to spot what it was. As he reached the top of the shelf, he saw a gangling gray foot with the same long nails as the hands digging into the metal. He tried to lift higher to see the face when the creature released its grip on the shelf and fell to the floor. Its face was muddled in the pale light but looked as someone had wrapped the face of a toad around a human skull and grafted it with boils and bone fragments. Its body stood no higher than a small stepladder yet stretched out to feel much larger. The creature smiled, showing a neat line of sharped pin-shaped teeth stained red.

“There you are,” it hissed.

As quickly as it had leapt of the shelf it bolted for Jonah. He dropped his phone as the last sliver of light faded away, leaving nothing but the pale blue eyes of the creature bounding towards him. He dove to the side as the creature crashed into the wall, slashing into the wooden siding. He belly crawled away, trying to keep his head down as the creature thrashed through the shelves, softly screeching like a cat who vocal cords had been ripped out. Jonah patted his hand on the wall, softly begging God to save him. The creature stopped its attack and stood still. Inhaling and exhaling each breath, slowly clicking its nails against the shelves, creating an unpleasant screech of the metal.

Jonah covered his ears and continued to crawl. He waved his hand into the darkness, wildly trying to grab something. As he did, his hand met the side of the steel door with a loud clunk. He pulled himself to his feet and reached for the knob attempting to open it. The screeching sound of the metal suddenly stopped, leaving Jonah’s rattling as the only noise. He let go of the knob, but the damage was done. The creature scraped and crawled, heading in his direction again, tearing away the wood and carpet with each bound. He pinned himself to the door and closed his eyes. He could now feel the blood from his forehead slowly dripping down his temple, softly landing on his shirt in little drops. The click of the creature’s nails drew closer until he could see the pale blue eyes right above him, crawling along the wall. It again dug its finger into the metal door, slicing deep into the frame. Slowly heaving as it brought its head down just above Jonah’s shoulder. Its pale blue eyes looking directly at him as its pin-shaped teeth slowly opened around his eye.