It had been some time since Mary had last heard something from the other side of the altar and
she only hoped that meant good news. She sat with her knees bent up and her arms clasped
round them rocking back and forward. Streams of tears poured out of her eyes, yet she forced
herself to be silent. The last thing she needed was to be found, it was not the best location to
hide, but for now, it was all she had.
She brushed her finger over her wet cheek and moved her matted hair back from her eye. A
slight pain shot through her wrist, encouraging her to rub it; but it did not sooth the agony. She
closed her eyes and rested her head on the stone slab. Her thoughts were filled of Michael, of
their life before Kirkfale and why they had to come here. She felt guilt set in, it’s all my fault, I
should never have come here. She banged her head against the stone, it’s my fault, it’s my
fault.
Moments later, her wrist was grabbed and yanked almost pulling her other shoulder out of its
socket. She looked up and screamed. She saw a figure with red burning eyes pulling her to a
standing position. She tried to struggle but he was too strong. He snarled and grabbed her
other arm and thrust her on to the stone slab. She squealed in pain and tried to wriggle free,
but his grip was just too powerful for her. She shrieked, “Michael!”
“You"re love cannot help you now.” The Mayor"s lips moved, but Mary heard the words in
her mind. He smiled, “look, he lies with the rest of the dead.” His other hand extended behind
him.
Mary felt the blood drain from her face and screamed. “Michael, Michael, wake up.” She
struggled against the Mayor"s powerful grip, “Michael, you can"t be dead, I need you.” Michael
did not move. Mary wept.
“And now, Mary McFadgen, I have waited for this moment ever since your ancestor fled me
one hundred years ago.” He forcibly bound her wrists again.
“McFadgen? That"s not my name. Wh…who are you?” She struggled against the
constraints again, but they were much tighter than before. Giving in, she looked up at the
sneering face of the Mayor. For the first time she noticed his bright ruby eyes boring into her
retinas.
“Finally, it is time,” he raised the dagger, “once I have your soul, I will be free to roam my
kingdom.” She screamed and drifted out of consciousness as a deep throat-gurgling that
resembled a laugh filled her ears.
***
The darkness was restful. The quietness was peaceful. Michael just wanted to lie there for as
long as he could. He had to recover completely in order to finish off Donald and the only way to
do that was to linger in that place of total tranquillity. But, there was something not right,
something that did not sit well with him, even in that soporific environment. His thoughts were
of Mary, her need and how she could not stand up against the power of Donald. He yearned to
wake up and rush to her side and save her from death. He wanted to get up on his feet and
stab Donald in the heart, assuming he had one. He wanted to…
“What you want is not important, what He wants is all you need.” Michael opened his eyes
and saw a man walking towards him. He blinked and then blinked again, just to be sure. The
entire chamber had disappeared in favour of whiteness, no other description was apt. For the
first time he felt revitalised, his strength returned, his exhaustion gone, even his clothes were
whole again. The man took Michael"s hand and as if his eyes had suddenly been opened, he
recognised the man as his dead friend, Andrew. Michael felt relaxed as if all his troubles had
just drifted away. Am I dead? Andrew smiled. His white suit reflected the brilliance from the
surrounding whiteness. His cheek bones became more prominent as the corners of his mouth
curved up. A twinkle in his eye seemed to put him at ease, “No,” he began as if he had read
Michael"s mind, “You are not dead, I am God"s messenger.”
“His messenger?” Michael stood and looked around, just to check he had not missed
anything about the scenery. It was still white. All of it. He could not quite believe his eyes. “Is
this Heaven?”
The messenger smiled again, “No, this is not Heaven, you are not dead, you just need a
nudge and I am here to do just that.” He guided Michael forward and they walked, amongst the
vast whiteness that was like an undecorated room; a blank canvass, “My Father knew this
would all happen, it was all part of His plan.”
“You mean, us coming to Kirkfale, Donald giving me a job and then taking it away from me
and then kidnapping Mary and then bringing me here?” Andrew nodded with each example.
“It"s all part of His divine plan. You see Michael, there is a reason why your parents called
you Michael; you were named by God before you were born. You were chosen for this specific
purpose.” He stopped and turned Michael to face him, “You,” he said pointing, “must recognise
Black Donald for who he really is and stop him roaming Earth.”
“Mary?” Michael suddenly remembered.
“Is fine, as long as you reveal Black Donald"s true identity,” he said.
Michael turned and took a couple steps away from his friend. “But, who is this Black
Donald?” he uttered throwing his hands up in frustration.
“You have all that you need to fulfil His will for your life.” The voice sounded quieter.
Michael turned to find he was along again. He blinked, trying to understand what he had just
heard. This all sounded too far-fetched, like a story out of a book, but there was something
familiar about it all, something…he just could not put his finger on it. Then the darkness
engulfed him and he felt a sudden rushing sensation as though being pulled backwards at great
speed.
When Michael opened his eyes and saw the chamber again, the dimly lit candles, by
comparison to where he had just been, gave the room a darker feel than he remembered, but
he had to ignore it and move. Lifting his head he looked over to the altar and saw Donald
holding the dagger above his head again, how many times have I seen you do that already? He
stood as quickly and quietly as possible and thought about getting his sword, but then
something inside him told him it would be unnecessary. You have all that you need to fulfil His
will for your life.
As if an opaque veil had been lifted from his eyes, Michael noticed the red feet at the base of
the black robe worn by Donald. He had not seen them before, but knew exactly what they
were. It looked odd, but also fitting for whom they belonged to. Everything was now clear in his
mind and he knew exactly what to do.
He rose and stepped forward, “Black Donald, I command you to leave this place.” For a
moment there was no response, but then a gurgling sound filled the chamber, or was it
laughter? Michael assumed the latter. Donald slowly lowered the dagger to his side and turned
round, fixing his fiery red eyes firmly on Michael. Michael gasped, but held his stance.
“You, command me?” Donald"s voice was almost playful. A shiver zapped down Michael"s
spine, but he resisted the urge to shake in response. “You have no power over me, I am a god
compared to you. I should have killed you when I had the chance.” Michael noticed Donald
had brought the dagger into full view, “and now it would seem another opportunity has
presented itself.”
Michael smiled, even though he did not feel like doing it, “you are a „god" who is trapped.”
“You pathetic fool; you cannot possibly comprehend what or who you are dealing with.”
“Actually, I know more than you think, Lucifer!” Michael felt a little pride in his answer, “your
cloven feet are a dead given away…”
“WHAT?” Within moments, the entire room shook violently. Standing stone slabs, smashing
into smaller fragments and Michael almost stumbled but managed to steady himself against a
stable stone column. Donald exploded in rage and fire, “NOOOOOOOOOooooooo!” His body
erupted in red and orange embers being sent in every direction like a large firework. Michael
ducked below a flare heading towards him and as he did so, he heard a loud roar reverberating
everywhere.
It only lasted a few seconds before the roar faded and the chamber fell silent and darker. A
few embers from scraps of material were scattered about the altar. After allowing his eyes to
adjust to the lower level of light, Michael approached Mary and placed his hand on her cheek.
She slowly opened her eyes and his heart began beating faster. “Hey you,” he said as he
began loosening the straps holding her wrists.
Mary smiled, “Hey you, is it over?” She looked exhausted through her tears. Michael began
cutting through the leather straps and nodded.
“I hope so.” He leaned closer after freeing her arms. Mary put her arms round her husband
and kissed him. As their lips parted, the room began shaking again, Mary tightened her hold
and Michael looked round, “come on, we"ve got to get out here, now!”
