The Ritual

Julian pulled a syringe from his pocket.

Ezra tried to reverse, but Julian was too fast. He lunged, jamming the needle into Ezra’s neck.

Fire spread through Ezra’s veins. Within seconds, his arms went limp. His head lolled back. He was conscious, but paralyzed. A doll in a chair.

"Don't worry," Julian cooed, stroking Ezra’s hair. "It’s a paralytic. You’ll feel everything, but you won't struggle. The fear is the key. The fear calls him home."

Julian wheeled him to the edge of the pool.

He began to light black candles around the perimeter. He poured a line of salt across the threshold of the room.

"To keep the noise out," Julian explained. "The others... the failures... they get loud this time of year."

Ezra could hear them.

The speakers in the ceiling crackled with static. Beneath the white noise, there were screams. Wet, gurgling screams.

* Let us in.*
* Let us in.*

Ezra stared at the water. It was black, oily.

Julian stripped off his jacket. He lifted Ezra from the chair. He was strong, surprisingly strong. He held Ezra bridal style, carrying him into the pool.

The water was freezing. The shock hit Ezra’s skin, but he couldn't shiver. He couldn't scream.

"Come back to me, Caspian," Julian whispered, pressing his forehead against Ezra’s. "Let go of this shell. Come back."

He began to lower Ezra backward.

The water covered Ezra’s ears. Then his eyes. Then his nose.

Ezra stared up through the distorting surface of the water. He saw Julian’s face, distorted, rippling. He saw the glass roof of the Conservatory.

He saw the lightning strike.