Order of the Nine

The sharp scent of fresh pine and wet earth crept into the back of his throat as he lay there with his face flat to the forest floor. The bush obscuring him shook as a spear thrust through it. Tom Sheffield held his breath and stayed perfectly still despite the voice in his head screaming at him to run. On his flank, feet crunched through the underbrush. Under heavy footfalls, branches crunched, and alders swayed, clawing at Tom’s back. Then stillness. The silence whistled in his ears like a panicked steam kettle.

“Must’ve been a rabbit,” a rough voice cut through the quiet. Another grunted, then whistled sharply in two short bursts. Tom listened to the sound of their boots squishing and sloshing through the stew of mud and decaying pine needles. They were moving further and further away. He exhaled audibly. It startled him, and he flinched. But the men were already too far away, and he was in the clear.

Tom pressed his hands into the ground and slowly peeled his face from the muck. In the distance, inky silhouettes of bare-chested men and women in wolf-head masks danced around a raging bonfire. With his breath steadied, he could hear them laughing and howling over the crackle of flames while someone banged on a set of drums.

Bunch of fucking weirdos, he thought, turning his back to them and crawling away.

Bushwhacking through the forest was always a fool’s errand, but here in the dark, crawling on his hands and knees, it was a gauntlet of eye pokes, cut palms, and smashed knees. At this distance, the firelight wasn’t helping. The dancing flame flickered and strobed, shifting and stretching shadows that twisted the landscape. Then, the ancient oak tree, its trunk wide and weathered, loomed before him. Desperate to escape the relentless clutch of the alders, he reached out for it.

Two hands shot out from the dark and grabbed his collar. Tom nearly screamed, but a hand slapped over his mouth.

“You asshole!” Dan hissed, pulling him behind the tree. “You nearly gave us a heart attack!”

“You?” Tom gasped, shaking off Dan’s grip. “I almost shit myself just now.”

“We told you not to get any closer, dingbat,” Sally muttered, her hands squeezing the sides of her digital audio recorder. “We’re never going to find it now.”

Before Tom could answer, the wild howling around the bonfire died. For a moment there was nothing but the crackle and snap of burning wood. Then came the hush. A soft collective whisper. It hummed through the trees like static. The hair on Tom’s neck stood on end as if something cold brushed against him.

Benedic, Domine, nos. Benedic, Domine, nos.

A heavy drumbeat began. It shook the ground. Thump… thump… thump. Benedic, Domine, nos. Thump… thump… thump. Benedic, Domine, nos. Soon the chanting and drumming thundered so loud it choked all other sound from the forest.

Across the bonfire clearing, a towering figure emerged from the treeline. Unlike the others, he didn’t wear a wolf mask. He bore an elaborate goat’s skull fitted with jagged elk antlers that branched like lightning above his head. The crowd parted as two wolf-masked men dragged a woman into the central circle. Her wrists were bound, her head hooded in a burlap sack. They forced her to her knees in front of the Horned Man.

“Oh my god,” Sally whispered, clutching Tom’s sleeve. “What is this? We have to stop them.”

“With what?” Dan grunted, aiming his camera. “There’s at least two dozen of them, and they all have spears.”

The Horned Man approached the woman. He stooped low and gently pulled the burlap sack from her head.

The drumbeat stopped, and the chanting dropped to a murmur.

Unknotting the rope around her wrists, the Horned Man stood tall. “Sister of the Flame. Do you wish to Ascend?”

“Yes!” the woman cried out, her voice shivering with ecstasy as she writhed on her hands and knees.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Tom murmured.

“Speak the words, child,” the Horned Man commanded.

“Oh Lord Baphomet,” she gasped, her face illuminated by the firelight. “Grant me your blessings, and I shall be your faithful servant for as long as I draw breath, and longer still!”

“Do you give yourself freely, child?”

“Yes, Lord Baphomet! I do not do this out of fear, but out of devotion! You are the only one I love. The only one I will ever love!”

Another cultist stepped forward, presenting an ornate ceremonial dagger on a black velvet cloth. The Horned Man presented it to her, and she grabbed it without hesitation.

“Sister of the Flame, make your oath in blood and rise anew as Sister of the Wolf.”

She slashed the blade across her palm without flinching. A cultist unrolled a parchment scroll before her, and she slammed her bloody hand against the paper.

“Rise, Sister of the Wolf. Rise!”

She stood proudly as another man fitted a wolf mask over her face. The crowd exploded into wild cheering and howls.

“Now,” the Horned Man roared, “we feast!”

The entire gathering turned and began marching off deeper into the woods, torches flickering out of sight one by one as they descended into the valley ahead. Above, storm clouds darkened the sky.

###

Sally stared, mouth agape, as Dan played back the footage. “I think… I think that was Stacey Lambert.”

“Who?” Tom asked, brushing off the pine needles still stuck to his face.

Sally rolled her eyes hard. “Only one of the richest, most influential women in tech. Her biopharma company set a record for female-led IPOs last month! She was on the Forbes Top 10 list!”

Tom blinked. “Still not ringing any bells.”

Sally picked up a handful of damp leaves and threw them at his chest. “Of course not! But if she were some goofy YouTube bro pretending to be a boxer, you’d know.”

“Well, obviously,” Tom grumbled. “Everyone knows who those guys are.”

“You are such a dick,” she scoffed as Dan chuckled.

“Look,” Dan interrupted, lowering his camera and adjusting the telephoto lens. “We came here for the ledger, but this has already gotten way too dangerous. The weather’s turning, and I don’t feel like running into any more psychos with spears. I vote we cut and run.”

“Dude. Come on. We already hyped the next episode way too much. Unmasking Silicon Valley’s darkest cult. We are going to be laughing stocks if we don’t deliver.”

“Ugh,” Sally groaned. “I told you not to pre-hype the podcast until the episode is in the can. But again, you never fucking listen!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll, Sally Ride. The only reason we’re in this mess at all is because you just had to get into it with those assholes from The Outer Truths pod.”

Crossing her arms, she said. “In my defense, I hate those guys.”

“Yeah, everyone does,” Tom continued. “That’s their whole shtick. But you bet them a full month of running their show in our slot. You were so convinced we had it in the bag and then… Hell’s Gate happened.”

Dan muttered, tapping his screen. “He’s not wrong, Sal. People online are ruthless. If we give them another batch of grainy night shots, they’re gonna say we’re staging another hoax.”

“But it wasn’t a hoax! They were clean shots,” Sally shot back defensively. “I don’t know why everyone said those photos looked like Sasquatch sightings.”

Tom stood up, dusting off his knees, and gestured toward a set of torches in the distance, zigzagging up a cliff on the far side of the valley. “A hundred bucks says they headed down to the Grotto. And if so, that would make those the stairs leading up to the old church on the rise. That’s where the tip said we’d find the ledger.”

“No way,” Sally said, backing up a step. “The forums call that Demonfall Rise. Apparently, it’s where they throw sacrifices off the cliff. I’m not going up there.”

“Oh, come on,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “These aren’t actual demon worshippers. They’re a bunch of bored billionaires cosplaying in the woods.”

“Both of those things can be true, man,” Dan warned. “We still have no idea what happened to Terry, or why she sent us this info.”

A heavy silence fell over the three of them. Terry had been their primary rival in the conspiracy sphere. Two months ago, she’d posted a brief audio update saying she had a tip about a Nine gathering. No one had heard from her since. Not until Sally received her email.

“Terry was an idiot who probably lost her nerve. Just like she did at the haunting in Portland. She bailed and left us on our own. It’s why we created our own pod in the first place,” Tom insisted.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you believe in the Ogopogo, but won’t believe rich people would kill someone to protect a secret?”

“The only way to keep something secret is to do it alone. There are, what, maybe a hundred white-collar weirdos cosplaying down there? You really think none of them would crack if one of their pals started throwing people off a cliff? Come on, Sally. They might be some kind of monsters, but they certainly aren’t that kind.”

###

Despite their reluctance to climb the stairs to the rise, Tom had at least coaxed them into getting better footage before they called it quits. As they moved down the path, crushed stone crunched under their feet, and sheets of violent purples, blinding whites, and electric blues danced across the sky. Above them, hung from the trees, dozens of wooden charms swayed in the breeze. They twisted and rattled about and sounded like chattering teeth in the wind.

Rumbling thunder rolled overhead as they descended deeper into a thick, smoky haze that clung to the valley floor. A second fire, somewhere up ahead, blazed behind the smoke, bathing it in shades of orange and pink as dark shadows reached out like fingers. It smelled of cedar and sweet hickory, with subtle notes of seared flesh and pork rinds.

Tom’s mouth watered at the savory smell, but it was Sally who broke the silence.

“God, that smells incredible. I can’t believe you left the trail mix in the car, Dan.”

“Hey, I’m the one who had to lug the camera equipment and two tripods!” Dan snapped back. “Forgive me for not prioritizing your M&Ms.”

Tom wiped the drizzling rain from his brow. Directly in front of them was ‘The Grotto.’ Where online rumor mills say the Nine performed demonic rituals. But to Tom, it just looked like a frat party in a cave. They were drinking and dancing while they enjoyed a traditional pig roast.

“See,” Tom said. “It’s just a bush party. But they’re doing it in costume.”

“I don’t care,” Sally said. “I’m still not going up that cliff.”

“Whatever,” Tom scoffed. “You two wait here if you’re scared. I’ll go grab the ledger, and then you can both thank me later after we hit a million downloads.”

“Tom, stop!” Sally called out. “Don’t!”

“We’ll find another way. We always do. Let’s just get out of here.” Dan urged.

But Tom had already made up his mind.

###

Wind whipped across the narrow ridge as Tom reached the top of the rise. Up here, the wind and rain washed away the smoke. A narrow dirt trail snaked toward a dark stone church perched on the cliff’s edge. Behind it, cutting through the clouds, a full moon hung low in the sky. It seemed brighter and closer than usual, like some cosmic eye watching his every move.

Tom moved toward the heavy oak doors of the church. They were unlocked, creaking open just enough for him to slip inside.

Total darkness, save for the flicker of a single candle somewhere near the back of the church. He crept through the dark and stepped through a low-hanging archway that forced him to stoop.

Atop an old stone altar, he found the candle and, beside it, a thick, leather-bound book. His heart hammered against his ribs. Could this really be it? The ledger of the Nine? A list of every member, past and present, who had ever taken the oath? He reached out and flipped it open.

But it wasn’t a ledger.

It was a children’s picture book: The Three Little Pigs.

“What the fuck?” He whispered.

Lifting the book, three glossy 4x6 photographs slid out from between the pages and fell face-up on the stone altar.

The first photo showed Tom sleeping in his tent three nights ago. The second was a telephoto shot of Dan holding his camera in the woods. And the third was a close-up of Sally asleep in her car.

A shadow shifted behind him.

Thwack.

###

Tom woke up to the overpowering stench of urine and vomit. As his vision slowly pulled into focus, he realized he was staring through heavy iron bars.

He was inside a cage, locked within a subterranean stone cellar. Outside the cage, illuminated by sputtering wall torches, Dan and Sally were on their knees. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs, and thick white cloths stained with blood gagged their mouths. Two men in wolf masks stood over them with iron spears.

Tom threw himself against the iron bars. “Hey! Hey, let them go!”

The Horned Man stepped out of the shadows. “Now, Mr. Sheffield,” he said. “You are going to tell me who else knows about this place, or your friends will die.”

Tom gripped the bars, his knuckles turning white. “Fuck you, tech bro!”

The man cackled. “Tech bro? You have severely underestimated this place.” Then he casually snapped his fingers.

Dan was ripped from the floor by one of the wolf-masked guards. He dragged him by the hair, and they quickly disappeared outside.

Sally began screaming through her gag, thrashing wildly on the floor, snot and blood dripping from her face as she coughed and choked.

“Wait! Wait!” Tom screamed, shoving his arm through the cage bars, straining toward them. “Stop!”

A moment later, a booming voice echoed from the ridge outside: “Lord Baphomet, we beg you, accept this, our offering!”

A soul-shattering scream cut through the rain, ending with an abruptly heavy thud. Cheering erupted in the distance.

Sally curled into a ball, weeping uncontrollably into the stone floor.

Tom slid to his knees, tears burning his eyes. “You didn’t… you couldn’t…”

The Horned Man turned back to the cage, tilting his head. “Wouldn’t I? Couldn’t I? Before you follow a man into the shadows, Tom, you should know who that man is. Now I ask you again: Who else did you tell?”

“No one!” Tom sobbed, his voice cracking. “We didn’t tell anyone! I swear to God!” he yelled, hands shaking on the iron bars. “Who would we tell? Who would even believe us?”

The Horned Man sighed.

“You know… Terry said the exact same thing.”

Dizziness overtook him, and Tom vomited.

“She was so stubborn,” the Horned Man continued. “Swore on her life she never told a soul. But after two weeks in that cage, let’s just say everyone breaks. I’m so glad you accepted our invitation.”

He waved his hand again, and Sally was gone. Snatched by the hair and pulled outside, her legs limp and dragging behind her. Through the sobbing she whimpered. “Please don’t… please…”

“Take me instead! Leave her alone!” Tom slammed his fists against the iron.

The booming voice called out again: “May Baphomet’s bounty be plentiful!”

A high, terrified shriek echoed across the valley. Then another sickening thud.

Tom slumped against the cage, his forehead pressed against the cold iron bars, weeping silently as the cheers from the valley rang out. “Why?” he choked out. “Why did you kill them? I told you what you wanted to know?”

The Horned Man looked down at him. “Oh, Tom. There was never any chance of salvation here.”

He turned to leave, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

“What about me?!” Tom yelled after him, his voice raw. “Why did you let me live?!”

The Horned Man paused at the threshold and looked over his shoulder.

“Because, Tom… we need fresh meat for our next cookout. And nothing is more succulent than long pig.”

He stepped through the doorway. The heavy oak door slammed shut, followed by the deep screech of an ancient iron lock grinding shut.