Hell House

Lily was used to seeing the altar, but now things had changed; many new additions were here that she had never seen before, although most of them she recognized them by reputation.

She knew what they were all for—and what that meant.

"So you're going to—?" she said.

Alexandra nodded.

Sighing, Lily shook her head. "I'm not usually one to talk, but do you think maybe you're going just a little too far?"

Instead of answering, Alexandra started to disrobe. "Join me in the circle," she said.

Silent again, Lily undressed, and both women sat face to face inside the circle, communing wordlessly for a moment as candles burned and the scent of incense filled the room.

Slowly, slowly, the outline of Alexandra's ful plan become apparent to Lily, who allowed herself the luxury of being briefly shocked.

"Going too far?" Alexandra said after some time. "Oh no. I think the problem is that we've never gone far enough. This town—well, it's had its ups and it's had its downs, but sometimes things get so far down they need a little, what's the word for it?"

"Correction?" Lily said.

"That's right. We need a correction. If Van were here he'd never have let things get this far without doing something, I'm sure of that. Well, I can't be Van, and I can't make up for lost time. But I can certainly do something now."

She sprinkled a pinch of something into the burning censure, turning the smoke from the fiery incense red.

"And what about you, Lily?" she said. "Can I count on you to do something?"

"That depends—what is something?"

"Just for you to say the right things to the right people. And let me know if anyone starts asking too many questions. ...and protect me from my own bleeding heart, if need be."

"Your heart hasn't bled in 50 years at least," said Lily.

Alexandra shrugged. "Well. We'll just have to use someone else's then."

***

The warm spell didn't last.

By the time Halloween came the town was, as the saying goes, cold as a witch's tit, and many children wore extra layers underneath their costumes before they went banging out the door with plastic pumpkin buckets in hand that night.

The most effective tool for combatting the chill was excitement. The children were as happy about Halloween as ever, but this year adults felt an extra special frisson about the night as well. Nobody could quite put their finger on it, but the quiet consensus remained that there was something in the air, definite but elusive at the same time.

"Maybe it's magic," more than one person joked as the hallowed day approached. But the comment never seemed as funny once it was actually spoken out loud.

The silver sliver of a waxing crescent moon rose just before sundown Halloween night, a mute witness to the final stages of preparation on the Hell House.

Most of the structure had previously been Shilo Hutcheson's disused barn, which he donated to the church—Shilo's idea of a donation being to charge only half what he ordinarily would for use of his land, of course.

Finding contributions of timber and other building supplies from nearby towns at a surplus, church members created a temporary addition onto the structure. Mr. Fletcher, the high school's English teacher, referred to this section as the "Ante-Hell," and was disappointed when nobody else considered this a droll allusion.

The barn technically sat outside the town limits, since Ex-Pastor Bradbury had managed to use his leverage with the town council to get special permits denied on any property inside the town boundaries, one of his many efforts to block Bathsheba before the night came.

But once in the countryside the extent of his influence ended. Bradbury's hope was that forcing the Hell House so far so far out would hurt attendance, but in reality the weeks of maneuvering over the topic ended up driving a train of free publicity (much of it delivered in breathless tones by Lily Rougemont's daily column), and by Halloween night the community's curiosity was at maximum pique.

Thomas Garrett did his part with an aggressive advertising campaign that bought up nearly a quarter of the billboards in the county, covering them with promotional art depicting the black and orange portrait of a leering, horned devil over the silhouette of a house engulfed in flames, with the words "HELL HOUSE: A HALLOWEEN ODYSSEY INTO DAMNATION" in huge letters, and, in much, much, much smaller letters beneath that, the words "Get Saved Today!™"

Bathsheba objected to the art design, calling it obscene. But Garrett mollified her with assurances that a little obscenity was okay for advertising purposes as long as it ultimately served a missionary end, and eventually she relented, particularly since they'd already paid a deposit on the billboards anyway.

Vice Principal Gibbs failed in her crusade to veto giving candy to kids and teenagers visiting the Hell House, but won on a compromise that every handout be accompanied by religious tracts.

She also attempted to force a rule that no child wearing a Halloween costume be admitted, but when the volume of sales of masks at Drummond's Grocery made it clear this would leave her with essentially no audience remaining she instead recruited Pastor Usher to encourage religiously themed costumes for Halloween instead, a drive that was only partly successful.

The paints used on the barn's exterior and interiors had also been donations, and the painters worked free of charge, composing scenes of hellfire and eternal torments based off of various classical works in a style guide also created by Mr. Fletcher. Their talents fell generally short of those of the great masters, but church members deemed the results sufficiently infernal all the same.

Most of the cast were drama students from the community college in James Falls. The promise of extra credit meant that the bulk of the volunteers came from those already most worried about whether they'd ultimately pass the class, but since they were all willing to pay for their own costumes and many seemed particularly cheerful about the prospect of frightening children, organizers ultimately judged their efforts sufficient too.

Ex-Pastor Bradbury and three other ministers from more forward-thinking churches in nearby towns were having a "love-in"—the phrase "protest" had been decided too confrontational—in Shilo Hutcheson's field near the barn, with the promise of a hay ride back to town for trick or treating for any kids leaving the Hell House, and additional candy for kids who skipped the Hell House entirely.

Word of the Hell House spread for miles. As sundown approached, a virtual children's crusade of curious youngsters was set to descend on the old barn, most of them ferried in caravans by parents and other older relatives who, though many would not admit it, were eager to gander at the house's content themselves.

In the midst of all of this preparation, comparably few people paid attention to the small details, like the very unusual shopping list that Alexandra said she needed for the Hell House's witchcraft sermon.

These included but were not limited to "a sash of lion's skin three inches broad," "perfumes from Cyprus, Crete, and Phoenicia" (this last one was crossed out and "Lebanon" written hastily in its place), "a sword, a kindling dish, oil to anoint the temples and the eyes," and most important of all, a live snake at least three feet in length, preferably a black-headed python or children's python.

Those tasked with procuring these did ask some questions of course, including whether a mountain lion's skin would suffice for an African lion's, and whether she meant cooking oil or engine oil.

With great patience, Alexandra explained things like the necessity of the two knives, one with a black hilt and the other with a white, "made on the day of Mercury"—a Wednesday, she said—and "tempered in the blood of a gosling and the juice of pimpernel," and the quill pen dipped in the blood of a magpie and "herb of mercury"—spurges, in other words—and the cane of hazelwood that was "cut from the tree in a single stroke."

There were questions about what some of these terms meant and where things might best be acquired. What nobody asked—or, oddly, even thought to ask— was what exactly what she needed with all of this anyway.

In the very last hour before opening, 11 members of the church board—Alexandra and Ex-Pastor Bradbury were the only one not present—gathered with Pastor Usher to make a final inspection of the Hell House and be the very first people led through it. The 12-strong assembly virtually buzzed with anticipation.

Outside, just off the main road, a junked car donated by the used car lot in Elk Lake was flipped onto its roof to simulate a fatal accident, and Deputy Harwood parked his patrol car with the red lights flashing next to it to compliment the illusion.

Lest anyone driving in for the Hell House mistake this for an actual car wreck, one of the drama students stood between the two vehicles, dressed in ominous black robes and a skull mask.

From there, a series of increasingly sinister looking scarecrows pointed the way to the house itself, each of them tied to one of Shilo's fenceposts and appearing more and more elaborately like a sinner in torment, until the last was actually covered nearly head to toe in protruding bits of sharp metal and painful restraints.

Students at the high school art class had made these, and of course Vice Principal Gibbs was obligated to allow it despite disapproving of the aesthetics.

The main entrance of the Hell House was painted to look like the mouth of a huge devil opening to swallow visitors as they passed through a black curtain beyond. Inside, a teenage actor dressed like an angel—half of her costume white and the other half black—warned, "This journey will take you through twists and turns that will ultimately cause you to ponder the reality of life beyond the grave."

And she stood amidst a makeshift cemetery of plywood tombstones and one or two vacant (but noticeably shallow) open graves, the atmosphere punctuated by the whirring engine of a fog machine. A few of the church members laughed.

The room after that was, seemingly, a funeral, complete with weeping mourners and two full-sized caskets (loaners from Beckett's funeral home). Two bloodied girls stood next to the caskets, the victims of the "car accident" out on the road—one the driver, who had been drinking, and the other the passenger, who had not.

Taking the sober girl by the hand, the angel guide led her away to an exit filled with holy light. The young actress had a bit of trouble emoting rapturous bliss while also trying to shield her eyes from being blinded as she stepped through to "paradise," but everyone thought she did a fair job all things considered.

The second girl also tried to follow, but with a grim expression the angel stood in her way. That was the cue for two drama students in devil masks to spring out of the caskets (a few of the board members yelped in surprise) and, as she protested, drag her towards the exit filled with billowing artificial fog and red lighting, through which everyone else was evidently expected to follow.

The church members murmured as the sound of the girl's screams echoed. One said, "It's very good, but won't all of this be scary for the children?"

"That's the point!" Garrett said, and winked.

More pageants like this played out in rooms beyond: In one, a girl did drugs at a college party and, suddenly out of her mind, committed suicide. Deputy Harwood stood behind a curtain and shot his service revolver into a watermelon to complete the effect.

In another scene, two women were married in a non-denominational ceremony, one of them apparently unable to see that her bride is actually the devil, complete with horns beneath the wedding veil. Afterwards the pair retire for a honeymoon in Hell.

The part that elicited the biggest reaction featured a blood-spattered abortion clinic, where the patient watched helplessly as a devil in a doctor's coat dropped a "baby" (actually two hog's hearts tied together with twine) into a blender despite her protests that she'd changed her mind.

There were sinners in torment, bloody scenes of devils and torture, and even the use of sizzling bacon fat to simulate the sound and smoke of the eternal hellfire. At one point Pastor Usher leaned over to Bathsheba Gibbs and whispered, "You've done a wonderful thing for our community here"—speaking over the sound of an atheist college professor being beaten with a ruler by a devil wearing a graduation gown.


In the dark, Bathsheba blushed. "Thank you, Pastor."

"Wherever did you get the idea?"

"It came to me in a dream. I think it must have been divine inspiration."

"A blessed hand truly guided this," the pastor said—speaking a little louder to be heard over the whirling sounds of the blender in the next room.

The inaugural expedition took about 40 minutes, with a minor delay when one cast member accidentally kicked over a bucket full of blood during a scene about the combined dangers of social media and socialized medicine, and everyone had to stop to clean it up.

There were only two rooms left: the slam-bang finale at the Gates of Hell at the very end, and before that, Alexandra's representation of the dangers of witchcraft.

No cast member led the way into this room; indeed, they'd all been given explicit instructions to stay away. The 12 board members and the pastor filed in, letting Shilo's creaky old barn door slap shut behind them. It was unimaginably dark inside, so much that those with claustrophobia in the group immediately broke into a sweat.

When light finally came it was a red light, as fire burst into a full blaze in the center of the room, and over it sat a black cauldron, steaming with a ghoulish red haze that smelled of strange, unnameable things. The sudden heat from the fire made several people step back.

Over the cauldron stood Alexandra, although several of the church board didn't recognize her at first. She wore a cloak all of red, with a deep red hood that covered her head, and all over it she had embroidered hex marks and warding signs—the same ones she'd begun working on the very night everyone voted on the Hell House.

Beneath that cloak she'd painted her body, her face, and even her hands the same shade of red (everyone was shocked to realize that she wore nothing beneath the cloak at all...), and with her hair tucked beneath the red hood the only break in the crimson facade were the whites of her eyes.

Someone screamed, and everyone turned at the same time as a snake nearly five feet long slipped between the legs of the frightened woman, glided across the barn's dirt floor, and, as everyone watched, coiled around one of Alexandra's bare legs and climbed her body like a tree.

Raising her voice, Alexandra recited:

"Dalmaley, lamekh, cadat, pancia, velous, merroe, lamideck, caldurech, anereton, mitraton. Impure angels, be the jailers of these instruments, for they are needed for many things."

A log on the fire hissed, popped, and split in half. More of the board members jumped. A few simply stared, round-eyed and pale-faced, unsure what was about to happen..

Grasping the hazelwood staff (cut from the tree in a single stroke), Alexandra waved it over the mouth of the cauldron and recited again:

"Impure angels, may our work be accomplished through you: Zalay, Salmay, Dalmay, Angrecton, Ledrion, Amisor, Euchey. Come, that this creature may gain a shape, and by this let our work be accomplished."

Pastor Usher found his voice first. Clearing his throat, he said, "Mrs—that is, Mrs. Updike, I don't think the board members and I quite understand—"

"I conjure thee, oh form of the instrument, by the virtue of the elements, by the virtues of the stones and herbs, and of snow-storms, winds and thunder. Deign, oh lords, to sanctify this creature that it may be a remedy for the human race:

"Astrachios, Asach, Ascala, Abedumabal, Silat, Anabotas, Jesubilin, Scingin, Geneon, Domol."

And she thrust the staff into the pastor's hand. Bewildered, he accepted it and mumbled "Erm, thank you."

The room was growing hot. Several people tried to open the door but found it locked, although they couldn't see how. One man started to beat on it, calling for help, but nobody, it seemed, could hear them.

Whirling around and around the cauldron, her red cloak flying in every direction, Alexandra poured the phials of the sacred perfumes into the steaming mass, and all the while she chanted:

"Astaroth, Ador, Cameso, Valuerituf, Mareso, Lodir, Cadomir, Aluiel, Calniso, Tely, Plorim, Viordy, Cureviorbas, Cameron, Vesturiel, Vulnavij, Benez meus Calmiron, Noard, Nisa Chenibranbo Calevodium, Brazo Tabrasol."

More people pulled at the door now, and even more beat on it, but nobody came. Alexandra's voice grew louder still:

"Beelzebuth, Madilon, Solymo, Saroy, Theu, Ameclo, Sagrael, Praredun, Adricanorom, Martino, Timo, Cameron, Phorsy, Metosite, Prumosy, Dumaso, Elivisa, Alphrois, Fubentroty."

Bathsheba seemed paralyzed with rage, white-faced, lips fixed in a snarl, fingers tied into knots; but for once in her life it seemed she had nothing at all to say.

Taking up the two knives, Alexandra cut herself, first with the white knife, then with the black. The wounds on the backs of her arms were shallow, but they bled enough so that the drops fell, hissing, into the steaming brew. And she intoned:

"Ouyar, Chameron, Aliseon, Mandousin, Premy, Oriet, Naydrus, Esmony, Eparinesont, Estiot, Dumosson, Danochar.

"I am Ank F N Khonsu, your prophet and your priest. Make all spirits subject unto me, on the Earth and under the Earth, on dry land and in the water, of whirling air and of rushing fire.

"I invoke you, the terrible and invisible god in the void. All of you hear me: This is the Lord of the Gods; this is the Lord of the Universe; this is He Whom the Winds Fear; this is He Who Having Made Voice By His Commandment Is Lord of All Things, king, ruler and helper, oh hear me now, for the Heart Girt With a Serpent is my name! Hear me!"

And round and round the fire she whirled seven times, faster and faster as she went, until she became a red whirlwind, and everyone stood, entranced with horror all of a sudden she took up a curbed sword, raised it high over her head and, with a shriek, brought it down with all of her might, splitting the side of the cauldron and releasing everything inside.

Instantly the spilled concoction burst into flames, and fire spread across the floor but, amazingly, flowed around the feet of all the assembled church members, seemingly trapping each of them where they stood but never coming close enough to burn them, nor did the dry timber of the old barn yield to the flames either.

The fire burned white hot, but at the same time it burned nothing at all, and the men and women of the church cried out at the heat but still were unharmed.

Trapped, they could only watch, helpless, as the great snake slithered among the flames, coming again to Alexandra's feet. And then it rose, stretching its scaly body nearly all the way up to its full height, its head extended toward hers.

Alexandra bent down and kissed the serpent's mouth. And all at once a change came over the creature: It grew taller, stretching out from nose to tail, and broader too, and its scales melted and smoothed over its figure, even as its face grew flat, and hair grew on its head, and arms and legs split off from the trunk of its body, and very soon a man stood in place of the snake.

No, not just a man—almost like an angel, everyone saw, beautiful and powerful. But strange too, thin and pale, and faintly androgynous, and his eyes were still the eyes of the serpent, cold and calculating as he stood amidst the white hot flames.