The Hanging Hill

106

Reginald Grimes was on his knees, staring at the floor.

“Grandfather?”

“Stand up straight, Reginald,” the wizened old man hissed from below.

“How did you get here?”

“The Indian’s curse! It summons more demons to this spot than you or I ever could! Hurry, boy! We haven’t much time!”

“But—I’ve never met anyone in my family before!”

“And you never will if you do not complete the resurrection ritual—now!”

“Fear not, Grandfather. I will not fail you.”

“Good, because your father certainly did. Stupid, no-good sluggard. Tried to sacrifice his own daughter and son.”

“What?”

“You were both born under the full moon. My disciples were too late to save your sister. But Hakeem’s father was able to yank you out. Of course, the fire destroyed your arm.”

Grimes stared at his withered limb. “My father did this to me?”

“Yes! The imbecile. I was in jail. Heard what he was intending to do. Didn’t even have his Tophet set up in the proper place, here at the portal. Rented a warehouse in Danbury. Used toddlers too young to even speak, let alone recite the incantation.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry. He paid for his mistake.”

“My father slayed him,” said Hakeem, bowing slightly. “Your mother as well.”

“Then you people put me in that orphanage…”

“This is your one chance, Reginald!” shouted the professor. “Redeem our family name! You are the only one who can, for you are the sole surviving male heir to our royal bloodline!”

“My father … my mother …”

“Are both dead! But I can live again. Begin the sacrificial rite!”