Fear the Darkness Read Online Free PDF

either side, with light spilling out from within it through the shattered sockets of what had once been stained-glass windows. Racing closer, Anderson heard chanting drift towards her from inside the church. The ritual was underway. She could only hope she wasn't too late.
    "Anderson," Whitby said breathlessly. "We don't know what we're up against here. We should call for backup."
    Ignoring him, Anderson charged towards the entrance of the church and kicked the splintering doors open. Pushing past them with Whitby just behind her, she smelt the cloying stench of burning incense and saw a dozen hooded men standing around a desecrated altar. She saw the assorted paraphernalia of occult sacrifice: jagged-bladed knives, a silver chalice, black candles, wands and staves, the outline of a chalk pentagram drawn on the floor. Standing at the head of the group, she saw the Coven Master step forward with a knife in his hands to loom over the small form of Himmie Durand, tied spread-eagled to the altar before him.
    "Lord Satan," the Coven Master screamed, raising the knife while the chanting of his followers reached a crescendo. "We call out to you across the dark abyss. Ari Nostrum Elophim ! Accept this offering from your unworthy servants. Accept it, and let the great chasm be bridged."
    Firing two rounds in quick succession, Anderson saw the bullets take the Coven Master in the centre of the chest, his knife dropping noisily on the floor. Startled by the shots, the chant dying on their lips, for a moment the Coven Master's followers watched in stunned silence as their leader fell sprawling backwards to land in a crumpled heap in the middle of the pentagram. With a buzz of angry whispers that quickly became roars of rage, the coven members charged towards Anderson and Whitby, eager for blood.
    "Rapid Fire - Standard Execution," Anderson said, impressed at how calmly Whitby followed her lead now they were in combat. "Aim high. We don't want to hit the boy."
    Standing side-by-side, they fired in unison, Lawgivers blazing out a fusillade of shots to cut down the shrieking coven members in mid-stride. In a matter of seconds it was finished, leaving Anderson and Whitby framed in the church's doorway, looking towards the lifeless bodies of a dozen men strewn haphazardly across the floor.
    "Drokkers should've known better than to bring knives to a gunfight," Whitby said, the ruthless mask of the Street Judge restored as he reloaded his Lawgiver. "Probably figured they had nothing left to lose. Abduction. Attempted Murder. Conspiracy to Commit on both counts. Resisting Arrest. Celebrating Mass Without a Licence. They were looking at thirty years apiece, easy." He looked over his shoulder to glance out of the doorway. "Looks like the troggies didn't follow us. Either that, or all the gunfire scared them off. Guess we can pick up the kid and get back to the Meg. It's over."
    "Over?" Anderson said quietly, still looking towards the altar. "I only wish it were."
    Something was wrong. She could feel it. There was a tingling sensation at the back of her scalp, and she knew her instincts were trying to warn her. Reaching out to the psi-flux, she felt a dark current moving towards them. Something was coming. Something dark and powerful and ancient. Something bad . Anderson was confused. They had prevented the sacrifice and the coven members were dead. How could there be anything else for them to deal with here? Then she noticed something beside the altar and she had her answer.
    It was the Coven Master's body. He had fallen in the centre of the pentagram, the blood seeping out of the wounds in his chest seeming to move with a mind of its own towards the chalk lines of the symbol around it. Watching in silent horror, Anderson saw the oozing blood spread out to follow the exact lines of the pentagram like an artist inking over a pencil sketch. Soon, the chalk lines of the original symbol were no longer visible, leaving in its place a pentagram drawn in