~ Chapter 9 - Sacrifice ~

–A goat's head? –Ana asked after Leon fell silent for several seconds. She could've sworn she had been crying through the whole story, but it was just the chills that had completely taken hold of her–

–Yes –he replied without lifting his gaze– That's right. There were some farm animals in the backyard of the old house. Sometimes they vanished. As a child I thought they had escaped, later I imagined they were eaten... but never that...

Leon paused to collect himself. He moistened his throat with a sip of tea and resumed the tale of his conversation with Adela.

–What!? From the goats in the backyard!? –he shouted, so confused that he let go of his mother–

–How would I know where the damned goats came from!? I just saw her decapitate it!

The young man let his mother cry in silence, the kind of weeping that runs deep.

–From that day on, I stopped sending you there. I talked to your aunt so she would let you stay at her house while I went to work –Adela revealed–

Now it was Leon's eyes that filled with tears, just as silently. He had always believed his mother had forgotten him, that one day his aunt and uncle had taken pity on him. He never imagined his mother was behind it all.

–W-why didn't you tell me...

–I never knew how to bring it up. I just wanted the whole thing to be forgotten. I didn't even know how to talk to your grandmother –Adela looked toward the living room window– That was the last time I saw my mother. She died weeks later. And the pain of knowing that my final memory of her is that moment... is heartbreaking.

The silence between them stretched on. Only the sound of tissues and hands rubbing eyes could be heard.

–I never believed in those things –Adela continued– I simply assumed your grandmother had gone mad, and it broke my heart. But when I went back for the inheritance matter, I felt something different.

–What did you feel?

–I don't know how to explain it... I really don't think it was anything...

–Just say it –Leon was losing patience–

–A presence. When I walked through the rooms, I felt like someone was watching me. The shadows were strange, in places where light should have shone directly. I just signed what the notary said and never went back. And as absurd and insane as it sounds, I think your grandmother brought something that wasn't from this world...

Adela crossed herself. She was so devout that even entertaining the possibility of dark spirits or demons made her feel like she was offending the Church. But she found no other explanation for the events.

Leon, for his part, felt such a massive emptiness in his chest that he thought he might faint. He was out of breath. His heart rate had sped up. Partly because of his mother's horrifying revelation, but mostly because deep down, he knew he had to go see for himself what had happened in his grandmother's old mansion.

–You know I have to go, right?

His mother broke down in tears.

–No. Please don't. This whole thing has already caused too much pain. I couldn't bear to go through something like that again.

Her son took her by the shoulders again and looked straight into her eyes. He didn't say it out loud, but his gaze conveyed that he was even more afraid than she was.

–Mom. I have to do it. It's no longer just about our past—someone else is involved... a friend.

Adela continued weeping quietly as she paced around the house. Leon waited near the entrance.

Minutes later, his mother returned to the living room and handed him a striking titanium key. The one that opened his grandmother's front door.

–Please –his mother begged– at least promise me that if you see anything dangerous, you'll get out of there... just promise me that.

–I promise –Leon said, and took the key.

It was already three in the afternoon, but the ever-present clouds hanging over Villa Azul made it seem as though dusk was falling.

Leon grew emotional again on the walk from his mother's house to his grandmother's mansion. He had always been strong and rugged, but the wounds from his childhood still stung as if some invisible hand kept pouring salt on them every time they resurfaced.

A few minutes later, he arrived.

The house had two small towers on either side and a central dome. There were pointed arches everywhere, yet the massive windows barely let any light inside. Two gargoyle sculptures crowned the tops of the towers.

The old mansion had everything needed to be the town's architectural highlight—or the most sinister building in the city. Neglect and decay had made it the latter.

The black spiked fence wasn't welcoming. The front garden was so run-down it would take a miracle to find a living flower there. Mold had eaten away the window and baseboard edges. The walls were cracked almost everywhere, and both the paint and plaster were faded or deteriorated.

From the outside, it looked like an abandoned mansion. And it was. Yet even when his grandmother was alive, it had always looked neglected.

Now it was for sale, but almost no one had shown interest. The notary insisted on buying the property, but his mother and aunt refused. There was a rumor that his grandmother had hidden lavish jewels somewhere inside, but they were never found. Even though she had died ten years ago, almost no one had entered the mansion. Deep down, everyone was terrified.

The gate creaked so loudly Leon thought the few neighbors nearby would come out to see what was going on. But nothing could be further from the truth. The undisturbed stillness of Villa Azul's outer suburbs had become a permanent quiet.

The garden looked even more pitiful up close, during the short walk from the gate to the door. Still, Leon had no time to be depressed; he was probing the deepest layers of his trauma, and what filled his mind was a mix of determination and fear.

Click went the lock as it unlatched. Even though it hadn't been opened in months—maybe years—the lock was of excellent quality, untouched by time.

The heavy oak door began to open, creaking on swollen, moisture-damaged wood and rusted hinges.

To Leon, it felt like opening the gates of hell. A portal into a realm where he had no power, because he feared that fear itself would paralyze him.

But his will had always been as strong as his beliefs, so even if he didn't realize it, he was already determined to go deep.

The mansion was like a maze. Twisting hallways, hidden doors, staircases leading to dead-end rooms. Anyone else would be lost in five minutes, but Leon knew it like the back of his hand. He had snuck into every corner in constant paranoia of encountering his grandmother during her outbursts.

There were only two places he'd never entered: the backyard shed and the guest room. The latter was what disturbed him the most.

Still, he began his search in his grandmother's bedroom, the third door to the left on the second floor.

The room was massive, maybe ten meters long by eight wide—plenty of space for an enormous canopy bed. It was all quite picturesque, but Leon knew the mystery lay elsewhere—maybe the dresser. Maybe the wardrobe.

He opened the first drawer. Just clothes.

Second drawer. More clothes. Some pages with writing too blurred by moisture to read. Nothing useful.

It was the third drawer where things got interesting:

"Black Magic for Love," read the cover of a black-bound book. Leon skimmed through it, looking for anything useful. Some markings appeared in the chapter on "Red Candles." Then nothing of note.

Now he was certain. His grandmother had practiced dark rituals. But from what he'd read, they didn't involve animal sacrifice—at least nothing so violent.

The wardrobe was full of clothes too. Most eaten by moths, but once expensive silk garments. Oddly, his grandmother never wore any of them. In fact, she always looked dirty and unkempt.

He found nothing else. So he headed to a place he'd never gone before.

The shed.

From the outside, it was even more disturbing than the house. A grotesque shack, hastily built. Asymmetrical. With all the hallmarks of a building that could collapse at any moment. But it stood firm—against time, rain, and wind.

Of course, there were no animals in the yard anymore. At least no farm animals. The grass and weeds had grown nearly half a meter tall.

The breeze carried the same cold air as always. Leon began worrying about the time. It was already five; he had about an hour of daylight left. He needed to hurry.

The shed entrance was sealed with chains and padlocks. Many of them. He counted five. There was no way to get in by conventional means. The five keys were likely scattered throughout the house, but finding them all would be nearly impossible.

He chose a much simpler solution.

Crack! splinters flew from the wall. Luckily, his tools were still in the truck. And the fastest way in was by smashing the wall.

Again he felt embarrassed by the noise, but there was no other way.

After the first hole, Leon had to cover his nose with his shirt. The shed reeked of rot and confinement. He nearly threw up but held it in. He had to press on.

A few minutes later, the hole was large enough for someone to fit through. Holding his breath, he slipped inside and turned on his flashlight.

If there was ever a moment he understood his mother, it was then—when his brain processed what his eyes were seeing. The shed looked like a torture room. Rusty machetes, axes, and knives of all sizes. On each shelf, the skulls of farm animals, along with hooves and unidentifiable parts. The stench was so overwhelming Leon couldn't help but vomit.

But the most terrifying sight of all was the altar of stone rising in the center, surrounded by a red circle painted around the entire shed.

–A circle? –Ana interrupted–

–Yes. There were some symbols in the center, but they were unreadable –Leon answered– Or at least I couldn't understand them.

–What did they say? –Ana began connecting dots, recalling the circle in her basement and attic–

–I told you, I don't know. But I took a picture... figured you might understand it.

Leon pulled out his phone and showed Ana the image. She covered her mouth, shocked by the state of the shed. It looked even worse than Leon had described, but she focused on the symbols.

They were strange, no doubt. But not completely unreadable. Familiar, yet distant. She felt she'd seen them somewhere before.

–I need you to send me that photo –Ana said–

–Are you sure? What if it ends up in the wrong hands?

–What "wrong hands"? What normal person could do anything with just an image?

–Well, if we're looking into demonic rituals, I assume whoever gets the photo has some spiritual connection.

Ana shook her head in disapproval.

–Just send the photo.

The story continued for ten more minutes. No new revelations, just gruesome, grotesque details of the shed. Ana asked a few questions, but nothing new emerged.

Until finally, the message she'd been waiting for arrived.

–Oh God, Ana! That's disgusting! Don't send me that kind of stuff again, I don't know what movie it's from. The symbols in the circle are Hebrew –Lara's message explained–

END OF CHAPTER 9.