it might be, they both knew they would be a part of it.
There was a movement in the trees beyond the altar, and a figure stepped out of the shadowed darkness. A figure clad in flowing robes of scarlet velvet, embroidered in gold and silver. The figure paused, staring out at the children, and then its arms rose, spreading wide.
Clarey Lambert’s voice rang out. But it was no longer the weak and rasping voice that outsiders heard. Now her voice rang with the pure clarity of a young woman in her prime. “Are all my children gathered?”
“We are here,” the children answered in a single voice.
Clarey turned, facing the altar, and dropped her arms to her sides. Slowly, she began lighting the candles, each of which illuminated a doll. The dolls had been made by hand, and each of the faces was different. And yet they had a certain sameness about them, just as did the children who now stood gazing raptly. The eyes of the dolls glittered brightly in the shimmering light.
Clarey Lambert stood silently before the altar for a few moments, then turned to face the gathering of children.
“He is with us,” she spoke, her words rolling from her lips in the measured cadence of a chant.
“He comes to bless us,” the children replied in a single voice.
The black-garbed figure of the Dark Man emerged from the trees, stood silent before the altar for a moment, then turned to face the assemblage outside.
The Dark Man’s face, like his body, was shrouded in black, but in the glimmering light of the fire, his eyes glowed brightly from two holes in the hood that concealed his features.
The Dark Man gazed out at the children, his eyes finally fixing on Michael and Kelly.
“My children return,” he said, his voice carrying in the hushed darkness. Striding away from the altar, he crossed the clearing, his eyes never leaving the faces of Michael and Kelly.
Neither of them moved, neither of them shrank away. Rather, they stood as if carved from stone, gazing steadily at the black-shrouded face. The Dark Man stopped a few feet from them. He held out his arms.
“Come,” he said. “I have missed you.”
Taking their hands in his, the Dark Man led them to the altar. “You have a gift to give,” he said, his words resonating in the silence that had fallen over the clearing. “Why have you withheld it?”
Unbidden, words rose in the throats of Michael and Kelly.
“We were lost,” they said. “Now we have come home again.”
Laying a hand on each of their shoulders, he turned them around to face him. He began speaking again, his voice dropping so that only they could hear, taking on a new rhythm, soft and soothing, a rhythm that reached inside their minds and put them gently into a hypnotic sleep. At last, when he saw that their last vestiges of will had been surrendered, he directed them to lie on the ground before the altar.
He approached Michael first.
From the folds of his robe he took a large syringe. As Michael unbuttoned his shirt and laid his chest bare, the Dark Man gazed down at the tiny, almost invisible scar that had been on his chest since the night he was born. He smiled with satisfaction, then shifted his attention to Michael’s glazed eyes. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
“No.”
“Will you feel pain?”
“No.”
“Do you give your gift freely?”
“I do.”
Slowly, the Dark Man lowered the needle, sinking it deep into Michael’s chest. He paused, then slowly began drawing the plunger upward.
From somewhere within Michael’s body a single drop of murky fluid seeped into the syringe’s chamber.
When he was finished, he moved to Kelly, unbuttoned her shirt, laid her chest bare and repeated the ritual. At last he stood before the altar and held the needles high.
“Youth,” he intoned. “Youth, freely given.”
Laying the syringes on the altar and covering them with a cloth, the Dark Man turned back to face the children who watched in silence from beyond the glowing fire. “Rise,” he commanded. “Rise, and join your brothers and sisters.”
Kelly and Michael rose up from the ground, recovering their bare chests, and silently returned to the semicircle.
Jonas Cox stood next to Loretta Jagger, his arm draped around her shoulders as she cradled the baby against her breast. In silence he’d watched the ceremony in which Kelly Anderson and Michael Sheffield presented their gift to the Dark Man, knowing that when it was over, it would be his turn.