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Ryman unlocked the door to his room and fell on to his bed, both exhausted and still terrified by his terrible ordeal over the last thirty minutes. His body was drenched in sweat, he knew that he hadn`t ever kept his body in shape but his condition was only partly down to his exhausting flight from the Satanists, it was mainly due to the terrible things that he had seen that night. The fear that had gripped him, body and soul, still affected his mind. He knew that he should shower before retiring to his bed, but his body ached so much from his flight from terror that he just didn`t have the strength. His mind was in a turmoil and he thought that maybe he should check out of his hotel room and flee back to London, but he didn`t for he knew that he simply didn`t have the energy, he would surely fall asleep at the wheel of the car and crash.
Instead, he decided to call Father Pritchard and beg his help, the priest was not too happy to receive his call.
“You little fool, I warned you not to go anywhere near that man and now you can see why. Can you drive over to my house; you will be much safer here?” Father Pritchard asked angrily.
“No Father, there is no way, I`m far too exhausted to even attempt it.” Ryman replied almost sobbing.
“Ok then, leave the door to your room unlocked, for who knows what else might visit you and stop you answering my knock, and I`ll drive straight over, I should be there in a little over an hour.”
Ryman fell into a deep troubled sleep filled with scenes that appeared to be out of Hammer horror movies, only these were much scarier. He awoke with a start and shivered, Ryman wondered why it was so cold in his room, then he realised that his hair was literally standing on end. Ryman swung his legs from his bed and sat there rubbing his eyes, when he opened them he saw before him the dim outline of a figure, and that it was forming out of thin air; it was also accompanied by an appalling smell that made him want to wretch. His fear immediately returned to him, for he realised that he was being visited by a creature from hell, he was literally frozen to the spot, unable to move even a finger, the demon now appeared more solid than gas. Ryman knew that the demon had been sent to punish him for his recent blasphemous behaviour, but he could do nothing but look at the creature. The figure stretched out a ghostly finger towards his nice new digital camera, and a bolt of unholy energy shot from the demon`s finger and enveloped the camera which now glowed an unholy shade of red. Ryman was sure that the memory card inside the camera must now be useless, that is if he ever got the chance to live through the night to connect the camera to his computer. He turned back to the apparition from hell, which now appeared satisfied with whatever it had done to the camera, and it now turned towards him. As the figure approached him fear Ryman`s body shook with fear, and tears flowed down his face for he felt sure that he would die before the night was over.
“Tell me little man who else was involved in your newspaper article, tell me now and I might not have to take you back with me to my domain, you wouldn`t like it there.” The demon asked in a loud deep voice that Ryman thought would wake his neighbours, but no one came to complain about the noise.
Ryman mouth was also frozen by his fear, which encompassed his whole being; he was unable to form a single word let alone a whole sentence. His fear began to reach even new heights as he felt something literally delving within his brain, and he knew that it must be the demon.
“Are the rogue priest, but he is no problem, for without help he is far too scared to fight me, and you certainly won`t be of any use to him in that respect, will you, little man?”
It was now that Ryman realised that it wasn`t the demon, but Bourbon who was inside of his head. Ryman then realised to his shame that he had urinated, for he could feel it running down his leg, but he could do nothing about it. The voice inside his head carried on speaking, although Ryman detected a hint of contempt that hadn`t been there before, Bourbon knew that he had wet himself.
“Your editor seems to be the only other person who is involved in your sacrilegious meddling into my affairs, but he will not be a bother to me either, for I will also pay him a little visit.”
Ryman strived to break free of the invisible bonds that held him so tight but it was useless, he might as well been encased in cement. His breathing became laboured; it felt as if Bourbon was physically pressing down on his chest, and what air he could force down into his near empty lungs tasted foul, but it gave Ryman the strength to scream out, his voice full of his despair and pain.
“God save me from this demon, please I beg of you.” The demon controlled by Bourbon looked down upon the broken figure that was once a man and laughed.
“You pathetic little creature, see not even your God is interested in your feeble pleas for help.”
It was at this precise moment that Father Pritchard burst into the room, and seeing the demon leaning over Ryman, he threw an open bottle of holy water at the apparition, and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. To the delight of Ryman, he was suddenly free of his bonds of steel, and he moved towards Father Pritchard who grabbed his arm and dragged him through the open door.
They fled down the hotel stairs, neither of them daring to look back, and then they were at the priest`s car which was parked out front of the hotel.
Father Pritchard pulled away sharply from the hotel, and with a screech of burning rubber, he headed towards the motorway. They had to pass the old Fairbrother estate to reach the motorway, and as the estate disappeared behind them, Ryman realised that he had stopped breathing all the time that it was in view. It was as they drove up the slip road and onto the motorway that he thought he heard laughter following behind him. Father Pritchard definitely exceeded the speed limit both on the way to the motorway and while driving along it, as he had done while rushing to answer Ryman`s call for help. At the speed that they were moving they soon arrived back at Father Pritchard`s house, the priest led the shattered journalist inside and set him down on the settee, he needed to speak to him urgently.
“Look Mr Ryman you are known to Bourbon now so you should think carefully as to what you are going to do, do you run away and hide or will you stay and fight. If you do decide to fight then it will be a fight to the finish, he will give us no quarter. It will end with either the death of Bourbon and his vile followers, or us, you and me, for we can expect no other help in this war. If you do decide to run then I suppose there is a chance that if you stay well away from Bourbon that he may decide to forget about you. But bear in mind that you wrecked an important celebration for him, so it’s unlikely that he will forget you anytime soon, he will probably continue to harbour a grudge against you until either you or he dies.”
“I`m sorry Father, but I`m finished, I have a little money stashed away for a rainy day and I intend to use it to take me far away from England, hopefully that will persuade Bourbon to forget about me.”
Father Pritchard felt disgusted with Ryman, for he could see that just this one short experience with evil had almost finished the journalist as a man.
“Ok Mr Ryman, I`ll give you a few things to protect you while you sleep as well as while you`re awake.” Father Pritchard said gloomily as if he also thought, for all the good they would do you. “But from now on you must be on your guard at all times, for Bourbon may decide to strike at you at any time, and if he does then it may well be the end for you.”
“You know Father; I never considered journalism to be a very dangerous occupation, not before today.” Ryman said grimly.